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bitethehnd · 2 months

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softbutch!julien x highfemme!reader hcs ♡

cw : sfw, afabfem!reader, petnames, butchfemme dynamics, disustingly cute fluff, musician!reader, curly hair!reader, pre-relationship and established relationship :) heavily inspired by this fic, go read it!

a/n : i realize this isn't for everyone, i love all my gnc / non-femme babies! if this dynamic doesn't apply to you, go ahead and skip! this is very self-indulgent and i didn't really think i'd every publish this, but you guys requested it in my poll! for all my butches and femmes, ily ♡

✧ from the moment julien's eyes locked with yours, she knew she had to meet you

˖ the day you two met was around four years ago. you were a small, nashville-born artist performing with your band in a local lesbian bar. the crowd wasn't huge, and the pay wasn't great, but you loved performing to people that shared that same connection with you. the feeling of growing up different and the alienation that came with it

˖ you were on the small stage in the back of the bar, singing your heart out to the small crowd. the people around were dancing and drinking, enjoying one of the only places they felt comfortable in. julien was amongst them, but she was alone. she had come to this small bar to get inspiration for her new album. she thanked the heavens above that she made that decision. she got to see you for the first time. you were the prettiest thing she had ever seen. she knew she would kick herself for the rest of her life if she didn't talk to you after your performance

˖ the deep red dress you wore was lacy and frilly, matching the pattern of your stockings. your hair was tied half back with a bow the same shade of crimson. you bounced around on stage like you had trained your whole life for it. the flawlessness and perfection of the way you sung pulled julien in, becoming mesmerized by your siren-like voice

˖ your eyes full of excitement scanned across the room curiously, observing everyone with interest as you sung into the microphone. as soon as your eyes connected with julien's, you felt a jitter in your lungs. she stood on the side of the stage, a glass of water in hand, just silently observing you with curiosity. she was beautiful. utterly handsome. she wore a white button down tucked into a pair of baggy blue jeans, black oxfords on her feet, and simple jewelry scarcely scattered around her body. you quickly took your eyes off her and to a random point around the room, feeling your face heat up. julien smiled at the sight and immediately knew she had to know you

˖ after your band finished the small show, you all headed into the back room of the bar. you all stored away your instruments to pick up later, as you all decided to mingle about the crowd and stay for a while. you grabbed your purse, put on a fresh coat of lip gloss and made your way back to the front. you stayed close to your guitarist, daisy, at the bar, feeling a bit overwhelmed in the presence of all the people there. you ordered a simple cherry coke, not feeling like being hungover tomorrow when you had to go back to your day job

˖ soon enough, daisy left you alone to go talk to a woman that caught her eye. you took small sips of your drink as you sat at the bar, doe eyes gazing around you. in that moment, you saw the handsome woman from before. she was engaged in a simple conversation with one of the other bartenders farther down from you. she turned her head, and you locked eyes again. she seemed to have a conflicting look on her face before excusing herself from the bartender and making her way over to where you sat. your eyes widened as she walked over, not expecting her to actually come and talk to you

˖ julien strolled over and stood next to you, setting her glass of water down on the bar top. she had a small smile on her face, almost a smirk, as she looked up at you. “hi, sweetheart. can i sit?” you quickly nodded your head in confirmation. you turned your body to the side to face her as she sat, a shy smile on your face. she was even prettier up close. “i’m y/n! it’s nice to meet you,” you said gently. “i’m julien, nice to meet you too, sweetheart. your performance was wonderful,” she said softly, her confidence slowly deteriorating. she could hardly think when all she smelled was your vanilla perfume. “oh god, thank you! i’m glad someone was listening. usually, my band only plays small shows so it’s hard to get people engaged.” god, you were adorable. “of course. it would be hard not to listen, your voice is so beautiful. i’m in a band myself, actually.”

˖ thus began the meaningful conversation about music and your own bands. julien told you she was a part of boygenius. you revealed that you knew of the band’s ep released two years prior and loved the music. you even knew a couple of her solo songs and told her your favorites. this made julien smile brightly and the connection deepened

˖ eventually, your other bands members came up to you and said they were leaving after about 30 minutes of conversing with julien. you were disappointed but bid her goodbye. before you could make an exit, she grabbed your bicep gently to hold you back. "could i... get your number?" she asked with hope. you immediately nodded your head with an excited smile, typing your number in her phone, putting a little heart by your name. she grinned at your cuteness. just before you left, you pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. she touched the spot absentmindedly as she walked to her car, a red print of lips stuck to the apple of her cheek

✧ julien courting you

˖ your meeting at the bar was the first, but definitely not the last time you saw julien. the next day, she quickly texted you as she woke up. she wanted to text you as soon as you left her sight the night before but didn't want to seem too eager. she shot you a message to let you know it was her before asking how you slept, ever the gentleman. you two quickly got caught in another conversation, both smiling on separate ends of the phone. she asked all about your hobbies. she learned that you didn't just have an affinity for music, but also for art and history. she decided then and there that she had to take you to an art museum

˖ your text conversations went on like this for a few days. all you could do when chatting with her was lay on your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet and feeling your face heat up. you felt like a high schooler all over again. you constantly felt yourself biting the inside of your cheeks to stop the grin from spreading on your face every time a message from her popped up on the screen

˖ thus begun the start of your dates. julien followed through with taking you to an art museum, loving the way your face lit up with joy at all the paintings and sculptures. some frequent spots for the two of you were homey coffee shops (julien's favorite, obviously), magical gardens, taking hikes among beautiful trees, and just sitting and talking. it didn't matter what you two did, it just mattered that you were together

˖ julien adored the way you wrapped your arm around her bicep, when you let her drape her coat over your shoulders, the sweet kisses you pressed to her cheek. the smirk never fell from her face for hours after you did anything affectionate. you felt giddy every time she called you 'sweetheart' or 'pretty,' when she protectivly wrapped her arm around your waist in crowded spaces, or when brought you small gifts. she never came to get you empty handed. she always came to pick you up from your apartment complex, open the car door for you, and always had a gift waiting for you on the seat. some common ones were records you had talked about, flowers, books, or a new one of your favorite foods that changed every week. julien never missed the little things you said, always storing them into her memory for a later use

˖ you loved getting to know her. nights spent sitting on the roof of your apartment, gazing at the stars were your favorites. every little single thing about her was interesting to you, and vice versa. you loved hearing about the bands that inspired her to make music, her favorite tattoos, or funny stories from her childhood. she loved when you talked about your favorite stuffed animal you religiously slept with as a little girl, your ramblings about the pros and cons of lipgloss brands, or just how pretty the sky looked at a particular moment

˖ after about three weeks of seeing each other almost every day, she asked you to be her girlfriend. a little slow compared to most lesbian relationships, but julien wanted to find the perfect time to ask. she didn't wat this to be a whirlwind romance, she wanted seriousness and commitment. you were both willing to give it to each other. she took you to that art museum she remembered you saying you liked. you looked utterly gorgeous strolling around and gazing at all the paintings, curly hair tied with a bow swinging behind you. you two walked around for about an hour, her arm wrapped firmly around your waist. every time you commented about how pretty an art piece was, she'd reply with "not as pretty as you." it never failed to leave you more infatuated with her

˖ after the museum date, she took you to a beautiful park filled with the blooming flowers of spring. you gazed around in wonder, eyes taking in the pretty sight. julien sat you down on a park bench, turning to face you, clasping your hands into her own. you were a bit confused and the anxiety of her telling you she didn't want to see you anymore crept up. before you could voice your thoughts, she asked the question, "can i be your girlfriend?" you answered immediately with a loving kiss to her lips, which she took as a yes. after the moment of passion was over, she pulled out a small box from the pocket of her leather jacket. she handed it to you with a small, nervous smile on her face, telling you to open it. inside the red velvet box was a heart shaped necklace with the letter 'j' on it. she pulled up the sleeve of her jacket to reveal a matching bracelet, the heart having your initial on it instead

✧ when you’re dating, julien never stops falling in love with you, and you fall right with her

˖ even after you two get together, the dates never come to a stop. at least once a week, either you or julien plan something together. whether it be a cooking class, sitting in a field and sketching, or playing each other your new music

˖ after about two months of dating, she asks you to move in with her. lucy warned her it might be “too quick,” but julien wasn’t hearing any of it. she wanted to be around you all the time, completely infatuated. you weren’t much better. you joke that if she could crawl inside your skin and live there, she would. she doesn’t disagree, but she wasn’t going to tell you that

˖ now, as a butch, moving in is julien’s thing. she’s anxious and over-prepared when she shows up to your house the day of the move. she refused to hire moving men because she insisted she could “do everything a man could do and better.” she’s not wrong there, so you don’t protest. she disassembles all your furniture that you’re taking with you to her house with ease. she wasn’t lying when she said she was handy. and she refuses to even let you carry the lightest box, smirking and saying, “don’t want you to chip a nail.” you smack her on the back of the head and plop down on the ground, just watching her. you do sneak a couple boxes though…

˖ after you got all of your belongings loaded into the u-haul truck (ironic, i know), you set off to her house. during the whole drive, she rambled about where to put all the new furniture and how exciting it was going to be to live together. you just stared at her with loving eyes and a soft smile, nodding alone to whatever random thought popped in her head

˖ when you got to her apartment, she got all of your essential things in and decided she'd get the rest in the morning. while she did that, you rummaged through her cabinets to find something to cook for dinner. you picked a simple meal of spaghetti and meatballs. as she placed the last box down, you served the pasta at the dining table. she wiped the sweat from her face with the bottom of her shirt while you tried so hard to not stare at her abs, you failed. she gave you a cocky smile when she caught you but said nothing. you two sat and ate your first dinner in your shared apartment, basking in the glow of love

˖ the longer you two lived together, the more accustomed you guys got to a routine. you'd be the one to get up first in the morning, julien still snoring like a middle-aged dad, while you made breakfast. you'd gently shake her awake and lead her to the kitchen, tempting her with the aroma of coffee and bacon. she always swore you made coffee "better than dunkin,'" but you knew that was a lie. never get in the way of that woman and her dunkin' donuts. after breakfast, julien would go on a jog. while she did that, you read a favorite book of yours or plan out some new songs

˖ the list of pet names she called you lengthened every day. there was a rang of sweet ones, like baby, babe, princess, angel, sweetheart, honey, doll, etc. but she also called you ones you figured she pulled out of her ass, no idea where she even got the idea from. you knew they were all a joke and it made you laugh with disgust ever time. some are pookie (phoebe's idea, of course), snookums, the wife (your favorite), boss, the missus, sugar tits and punk. you have some for her too, but she defiantly wins in the pet name category

˖ dancing in the kitchen in the middle of the night, illuminated by the refrigerator light ♡♡♡ she puts on some records from the 50's and you slow dance until the sun comes up. she keeps a firm hand on your waist and yours on the shoulders, her twirling and dipping you just to hear you giggle in delight

˖ let me tell you, this woman cannot keep her hands off of you, especially when in public. she always has a hand on the small of your back, leading you through crowds. or her fingers interlaced with your while doing mundane things, like getting groceries or walking through the park. it intensifies even more when at your apartment. her hand acts like its glued to your thigh during movie nights or her hands around your waist, standing behind you while you're doing the dishes

˖ she loves loves lovesss watching you do your hair or makeup, even offering to help sometimes. you look so focused applying your mascara or gliding on lip gloss. she even lets you give her makeovers sometimes, but only with the premise of no pictures (you do sneak a few though). she especially loves doing your hair. she's as careful as possible, understanding your hair is hard to deal with and can be knotty at times. she knows by heart to "only brush it when it's wet!!!" she has straight hair, so she does extensive research on what products and techniques are best for your hair type. she adores putting little bows all over your curls

˖ overall, the relationship is healthy and so full of love. you and julien fit so well together, it's almost like you were crafted to be each other's soulmate

#bitethehnd #julien baker x reader #julien baker au #julien baker x you #julien baker fanfic #butch #femme4butch #femme #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #sapphism #butch4femme #boygenius x reader #julien baker headcanons #julien baker hcs #boygenius fanfic #butchfemme

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novoaa1writes · 10 months

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day 0

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pairing(s): softdark!natasha romanoff x gnc!reader, natasha romanoff & tony stark (platonic)

summary:

“I trust they were well-behaved?”

“You know they weren’t,” Stark disputed, letting out a derisive snort. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t let me fix that.”

Natasha shrugged. “Chemically-induced submission is all very well and good,” she mused, sounding vaguely preoccupied. You could still feel her gaze upon you, boring through your skull. “But I’d prefer to earn theirs.”

“Your funeral.”

Or: Natasha wants a pet. Lucky for her, she knows a guy who can help with that.

contains: non-con dynamics, pet play, dehumanization

[cross-posted on ao3]

word count: ~3,300

rating: mature

warnings: non-con dynamics, forced pet play, dehumanization, non-con bathing, referenced non-con body modification, referenced non-con medical experimentation/surgery, referenced physical and psychological abuse, discussions of administering post-op painkillers (morphine, oxycodone, anti-inflammatories, etc.)

notes: reader’s gender is not specified here, and as with every reader-insert i write, the reader is intended to be ethnically ambiguous! also, no use of y/n... i don't personally mind it much, but i understand it's typically preferred without

translation for russian terms in the end notes!

(previously named “build-a-pet”)

— —

Natasha had been on mission when she received the call.

Burner #1—professional access. A select handful of people had the means to call it. Phil, Clint, Nick, Maria. Pepper, too.

Burner #2—a separate, off-books agenda. Personal in nature. Accessible to none save for one individual.

It was the second of the two that rang to signal an incoming call.

Eyeing her target—Pavel Mikhailovich Novik, Bratyerstva head and prolific serial killer—intently through the tac scope, she brought the phone up to her ear and answered the call:

“Romanoff.”

“Gah! Always business with you, huh?” Tony Stark’s conversational—if not somewhat indignant—tone filtered through the speaker. “That’s no way to greet a friend.”

Were Natasha not otherwise occupied at the current moment, she might’ve scoffed. As it was: “A little busy, Shellhead,” she muttered, shifting her aim in time with Novik’s uneven stride as he made his way across a municipal street. “Why don’t we skip to the part where you tell me what you’ve got?”

“I’m doing just swell, thanks for asking.”

He was a short, stout man. Novik, that was. Flat-footed gait, the kind that had long since ruined the arches of his well-worn shoes. Broad shoulders; barrel-chested torso. Thick dark hair cut short on his scalp and, in the case of his square-shaped jaw, removed completely—but permitted to grow to damn near cat-whisker length everywhere else.

A wheat-link chain hung loose around his short neck; the chunky watch on his hairy wrist gleamed when it caught the light. Both solid gold.

He was dressed nicely enough in a red button-down that looked soft as satin, and charcoal black trousers with a matching blazer to boot.

Natasha had to bite back a disapproving hum as he strode into the establishment—a pub, no less—and hoisted himself up onto a barstool with little ceremony.

He was armed, of course, but only barely; a pistol in one inner coat pocket, a switchblade in the other. He also wasn’t entirely clueless, as evidenced by his company: a pair of stern-looking men who stood flanking him on either side, the material of their cheap polyester suits straining to contain their hulking figures, jackets bulging with poorly-concealed semi-automatic weapons. They watched the bartender like hawks as he set a clear bottle—Dębowa—and an empty glass in front of Novik before promptly scurrying away.

They turned their matching glowers away from their boss as he began to drink, surveying the small, dimly-lit pub with heavy-browed suspicion.

It was a clear message. A bit garish for Natasha’s tastes; but clear nonetheless.

As it was, she barely had to shift herself any further to catch him in her crosshairs through a series of high, rectangular windows lining the interior of the grimy pub.

All bark, no bite.

A far less jaded woman might have snorted.

A far less jaded woman Natasha was not.

“… Long story short, we’ve made some serious progress. I want to check in, though, if you could swing by for a quick visit. We’ve only got a short window before some of these alterations are irreversible. Plus, I figured you’d want to see them.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, her pulse thrumming wild and fast beneath her skin. “You figured right,” she managed to answer, her mouth dry. It was all she could do to keep Novik unharmed in her crosshairs, her finger from squeezing the trigger.

“So, when can we expect you?”

Natasha flit her gaze to the clock face fastened atop a tall, spindly spire on the nearest street corner, then back to Novik. “Give me six hours.”

— —

“Boss, three reports intercepted from secure, heavily-encrypted channels. All high-profile killings, all on European soil.”

Tony Stark, though intrigued, did not look up from the task at hand: himself perched adroitly along the rim of the tub, lathering your naked body in sweet-smelling soaps; you, slumped uncouthly in the cradle of the bath, glaring up at him with defiant eyes and murder in the tick of your jaw.

“Time window?” he questioned after a pause, lowering one sudsy hand to knead at your lower belly and grinning wolfishly when you couldn’t smother a quiet whine.

“Six days.”

“Locales?”

“Qormi, Malta; Kutaisi, Georgia; and Gomel, Belarus.”

Stark hummed in lieu of answer, a vaguely preoccupied look in his narrowed gaze. His large, calloused fingers didn’t cease their humiliating ministrations over your quivering belly, making you pant in an effort to hold back a low, guttural trill.

“In that order?”

“Yes, boss.”

You hated him. You fucking hated him.

“Walks like Natasha, quacks like Natasha…” he trailed off, giving your belly one last squeeze before withdrawing slightly to cup your other hip with his palm. “Probably Natasha.”

You’d only just begun regaining your strength following the latest procedure, though not nearly enough to do anything other than glare.

Stark slanted his gaze back over to you. If he was at all cowed by the force of your glower, he did well not to show it. “You’re adorable when you’re plotting my demise, y’know that?”

It took everything within you not to roll your eyes.

— —

“So, how was White Russia? Eat any draniki?” Stark questioned as he settled bodily into an armchair, gesturing for Natasha to seat herself on the settee across from him.

She did, her features calm and impassive. Her shrewd gaze flit to you once, but was quick to refocus. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“C’mon, give me something,” Stark carped, huffing petulantly. You couldn’t see his face from this angle, only the back of his head and a bit of bearded cheek, but you imagined he was probably pouting like a third grader. “For old times’ sake?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Guilty as charged,” Stark quipped. “Though, I suppose I can’t say the same for Novik. He didn’t even get a trial.”

Natasha’s placid expression did not falter. “Who?”

“You know what, I’m just gonna give you this one—”

“Generous.”

“—but only because we’ve achieved a mind-blowing amount of progress within the past couple weeks. Like, seriously: mind-blowing.”

You felt yourself shudder at the reminder. Progress, indeed.

“Oh?” Natasha queried lightly, brows raised. Once more, her gaze dipped to you… and stayed there.

You ducked your head and averted your eyes, cheeks aflame. You’d grown accustomed to being naked around Stark—mainly because you didn’t have a choice. But Natasha…

For the first time in years, you found yourself missing your long hair, the way you could cower behind it at a moment’s notice. Now, you were exposed. Vulnerable.

“I trust they were well-behaved?”

“You know they weren’t,” Stark disputed, letting out a derisive snort. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t let me fix that.”

“Your funeral.”

Natasha’s lips twitched, though she remained silent. Then, after a beat or two— “Your progress?” she prompted.

“Right, so, here’s the run-down…”

— —

You’d tuned out for the most part as Stark began his long-winded, vainglorious speech to Natasha about his—your—successes since last they’d spoken. Much as you understood it was likely prudent to listen in, acquire a little more knowledge on what exactly he’d done to you, you’d also been there long enough to know that it probably wouldn’t have made a difference anyhow.

Natasha would do with you as she pleased. Stark, too, provided Natasha was the one asking.

In the beginning, that intrigued you. Made you want to learn more about them and their dynamic; to understand why it was what it was. You didn’t get why Stark would run, jump, and heel for the likes of her—intimidation factor notwithstanding.

By this point, that intrigue had since dwindled, if not dissipated entirely. It was what it was; consequently, they were, too.

You were still angry and strong-willed and a far cry from broken, but you weren’t stupid, either. Just because they treated you like a chained-up dog didn’t mean you had to gnaw off your own limbs in a desperate bid to escape like one.

And, besides… it wasn’t often you got moments like these. Moments where you weren’t being poked and prodded and shot up with God knows what. You were collared, sure, your body riddled with all kinds of aches and pains, but none of it held a candle to the agony you’d known in days past.

Lost in your head though you were, months’ worth of training ensured you didn’t miss the moment Natasha called you over.

“Ко мне,” she spoke, pitching her voice just above appropriate speaking volume.

It was like someone lit a fire under your ass. The second you heard it, you shot up on all fours. Pain came fast on its heels, but you grit your teeth and bore it, swallowing down a cry as soreness shot through your hands—you flat-out refused to call them ‘paws’—like wildfire. Every heightened reflex stood on high alert. Your back, too, felt like it was on fire, spinal column alight with tenderness.

Still, it wasn’t nearly so bad as it’d been a week back, when you awoke in observation all bandaged up and so acutely in pain, you feared it might kill you. You also knew better than to dawdle. Clenching your jaw tight, you shuffled forth on sore palms and bruised knees. Your muscles burned.

You were grateful to feel the tip of your nose graze Natasha’s jean-clad knee, signaling a justifiable stopping point.

“Молодец,” she praised, her voice pitched an octave (or two) higher, and you felt like singing.

You even arched your poor, aching back in a shameless effort to attract… well, something, you supposed. Head pats, perhaps. An open-handed stroke down your spine, even.

Damn that animal, desire-seeking hindbrain.

Fortunately, Natasha seemed to understand. Her palm met the nape of your neck, slender fingers curling their way into the mess of hair at the back of your scalp—God, but that felt divine. A mounting hum in the back of your throat was all the warning you got before—

Fuck. Immediately, you clamped your mouth shut, and the sound—along with the pleasurable vibrations—stopped altogether.

Not again.

“Ah-ah-ah, puppy,” Natasha tutted, her free hand descending to squeeze your nose tight—effectively cutting off your air supply. And still, the other remained; combing through freshly-washed hair at the base of your skull, occasionally scritching your scalp with the tips of her blunt nails until the insides of your throat quivered and your jaw hurt from clenching it so hard. It was all you could do to keep from opening right back up and giving her a nice long purr. (Which, you’d deduced, was exactly what she wanted.) “None of that.”

She was using English now, you noticed.

And, just like that, the realization hit that she hadn’t been before.

Now, you could… you could hear her words and understand them, and from that understanding know their meaning. Before, it was like… like hearing the words and knowing what they were supposed to mean, then acting accordingly. You couldn’t take apart the syllables, the letters in your head, not like you could with English.

P-u-p-p-y. That spelled ‘puppy.’ When you tried to conjure the word she’d used to summon you over, there was just… nothing. A blank space. A short one, telling you you knew the approximate length of the word you were looking for, but… empty.

Your gaze darted to Stark, who just slouched back in his cushy armchair looking immeasurably pleased with himself. At any other time, the mere sight would’ve been enough to spark some measure of annoyance within you.

Now… Now, all you could feel was fear.

He didn’t do that, did he? He… he couldn’t’ve.

All the rest of it: the obedience, the meekness—that? That was conditioning, plain and simple. You weren’t exactly a PhD, but it didn’t take a genius to note down from the very start that some behaviors got you alone time in a small, dark room without food or water or sunlight for days on end, and others got you… well, not that. By a certain point, you would beg him to yell at you, choke you out, take you over his knee and spank your ass raw when you misbehaved; something, anything, so long as it wasn’t that. 2 times out of 10, he’d take you up on that. As for the other 8… well.

But this—implanting knowledge in your subconscious, tuning it to mimic compulsory behavioral urges, all while you remained none the wiser? That was a hell of a lot more complicated than reworking your spine, or tweaking sensory receptors, or even altering your vocal tract to make that obnoxious purr.

It was like he’d rewired your brain.

You didn’t even notice that you’d since relented: gasped out what little breath remained and began wheezing, all doubled-over, sucking in new breaths of air like a half-drowned cat. Though, you sure as hell noticed how that rattling, restless, vibrating sensation arose in your throat with every shuddering inhale; how, on every exhale came exactly what you’d feared—that pathetic, trilling purr. The one that warmed your body from head to toe while simultaneously making you wish you had never been fucking born.

God, but Natasha’s hands were like magic…

Your head still spun. Was it from the oxygen deprivation, or the realization that Stark had been inside your head? Probably both.

Terrified, dazed, and overwhelmingly confused, it took you some time to re-center; tuning back into Stark and Natasha’s conversation, if only to posture yourself accordingly. You could figure out the rest later, you reasoned.

“… The spinal alterations don’t inhibit their ability to stand upright, by any means, which is the exciting thing,” Stark was saying, damn near perched at the edge of his seat—almost vibrating with renewed vigor. Weirdo. “They just enhance their natural capacity to remain down on all fours and go about their day for extended periods of time: a day, a week… hell, indefinitely! Which, for humans, would be pretty much unthinkable. I mean, can you imagine?”

Without allowing a moment’s pause for Natasha to respond (which you’d come to understand was quite typical), Stark wasted no time in steamrolling on. “‘Course, the process of transplanting new bones was rather tricky, and we had to do a couple of them more than once. Dr. Cho estimates a week—at most—before they’ve healed enough to allow for more… strenuous physical activity.”

Natasha snorted. Her hand had long stilled its pleasant ministrations in favor of resting inert at the base of your skull, slender fingers curled loosely around your nape. You felt how they twitched and tightened their grip ever-so-slightly when Stark spoke of what he’d done to your spine. “Are they in pain?”

Funny. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought she cared.

Stark raised a brow. “Ballpark?”

Natasha must’ve nodded, or dipped her chin in confirmation, because a beat later, Stark spoke again.

“Imagine you got ripped open, rearranged, then stitched back up,” he summed up. “Twice.”

Dimly, it registered within you to be struck by his forthrightness, though you did not dare mistake it for empathy.

Natasha was quiet for a beat. “Sounds about right,” she said eventually.

“It doesn’t have to be this bad,” Stark offered, though there was a curious shift in his intonation, this time; a knowing and almost resigned look in his eye that made you wonder if he and Natasha had had this conversation before.

The way Natasha’s hand twitched, blunt nails digging into the skin of your nape, was answer enough.

“Were I their doctor, I’d be prescribing some serious pain meds,” Stark continued on dryly, making a show of tilting his head and gazing off into the distance as though he was deep in thought. “Morphine, oxycodone—“

“No.”

“—maybe a local anesthetic or two,” he mused, beginning to count them out on his fingers. “Anti-inflammatories. Anticonvulsants. Something for the anxiety, even—”

“I wanted a pet, not a vegetable.”

Stark’s lips twitched—though with exasperation or humor, you could not tell. “Do you realize how quickly even the most powerful anesthetics will metabolize through their system? They’re not human anymore, Red. At least, not entirely.”

Now, that piqued your interest.

“Neither am I.”

“It’s different for them. You know that. You got Erskine’s serum. Some unrefined bootleg variant, granted, but that man was nothing if not brilliant. Everything he touched, he turned to gold.” Stark spoke of him—this ‘Erskine’—as though he put the very stars in the sky. You wondered if he was truly brilliant, or just insane. You wondered if for Stark, there was any difference. “As for them… well.” He gestured vaguely towards you. “They got some anthropomorphic whack job’s bone marrow.”

You blinked. You got what now?

“He has a name, you know,” Natasha commented archly, the earlier indignation having dissipated from her tone.

“Point being—I’ve met the guy. He’s seriously unhinged.” He paused there, as if expecting Natasha to argue. When she didn’t, he steamrolled on: “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. scavenge some digitized medical reports and psych evals from his time at the facility, along with anything else they could piece together after he escaped. Violently, I might add.”

“I won’t say he’s devoid of empathy, or a moral compass, because we both know that that’s not true,” Stark explained, then muttered under his breath: “Even if his senses of both concepts are seriously skewed.”

“Tony,” Natasha interjected, a note of warning in her voice.

“Just listen, alright? I’m getting there.” Stark huffed out a sigh, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “My point is that he wasn’t like that, at the start. He was no saint, to be sure, but he wasn’t like that. It wasn’t until they started a particularly ill-inspired series of ‘tests’—though I’d argue a better term would be ‘torture sessions’—to assess his healing capabilities that he really started losing his marbles.”

You head was beginning to spin. Your jaw ached from clenching it so hard. Who were they talking about?

“See, because his capabilities—extraordinary as they were—weren’t superhuman. They didn’t transcend healing itself, let alone make it any less painful to endure. In fact, I think they actually concluded that it was made more painful by his body’s ability to undertake those processes at such an expeditious rate.” Stark breathed out another heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he could feel a headache brewing.

He wasn’t the only one.

“He nearly went insane, Natasha. Joking aside, it almost beggars belief that he’s as high-functioning as he is,” Stark asserted, no longer pulling his punches. “I know you don’t want that for them.”

It was silent for a beat… Then two.

“Fine.”

Stark promptly quieted, renewed interest sparking itself alight in his gaze. “What was that now?”

“I said, ‘Fine.’”

A slow grin spread across his clean-shaven features.

“No opioids,” Natasha was quick to amend. “Nothing addictive. Just… anything that’ll help more than it’ll hurt.”

Silence for a beat. Then two.

Stark squinted at her. “You sure you and that bleeding heart of yours are up for this?”

Natasha’s grip around your nape tightened even further. “Shellhead,” she gritted out, her tone hard as weathered steel. Even the sound of it was enough to send chills down your spine.

Stark, in contrast, was not at all similarly affected. He simply tilted his head to one side and made a show of continuing to appraise her with shrewd, assessing eyes. Then, finally: “You should try yoga.”

— —

end notes: L O fucking L

also the anthropomorphic whack job they’re talking about is logan (wolverine) from x-men, in case you’re wondering

edit: i’ve since written a continuation of this, linked below!

translation of russian terms (with stresses bolded):

ко мне | ko mnye | “come”

молодец | molodyets | excellent, good

sources:

“organized crime in eastern europe” | to be so clear, i just made up “bratyerstva” from the term “братство” (bratstvo) which means “brotherhood” or “fraternity” in bulgarian, macedonian, russian, and serbo-croatian dialects. it is also the name of a ukrainian political party (ukrainian: братство, romanized: bratstvo), but it is not an actual belarusian word. it also bears some resemblance to братва, a slang term used to refer to criminal gangs in russia and other ex-ussr states. honestly, the closest you’d probably get to an actual word with this would be the polish “braterstwo” (brahterstvo) which also means “brotherhood” or “fraternity.” (however, in some informal contexts, the term “братерство” has been used in ukrainian dialects to convey synonymous meanings.) anyway, this is a brief snippet (~10 pages) from an academic article about organized crime in eastern europe, if the precedent behind all that intrigues you. i thought it was pretty informative!

white russia | another name for belarus, though there’s some controversy/nuance to that (and big surprise, it’s got everything to do with russia). this links to an article from euronews talking about... all of that

draniki | an immensely popular dish in belarus. they’re basically potato pancakes. several other european countries have close equivalents.

— —

next part: come, sit, stay

link to masterlist

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x gnc!reader #dark!natasha romanoff #softdark!natasha romanoff x reader #stuff i wrote

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streamafterlaughter · 22 days

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Fundamental Differing

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nav | chapter XXI | masterlist | playlist | pin board

Chapter XXII: Blood Sugar Sex Magik

tags/warnings (spoilers below the cut!): MDNI 18+ ONLY! angst, drama, confession, tension, ALL YOUR FAVORITES! rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader, afab!gnc!reader, mentions of reader being bisexual. dual pov

a/n: buckle up people it’s a doozy. i think you’ll like it though.

cw: unprotected p in v, oral (afab receiving), graphic content not meant for people under 18. MDNI, NSFW.

a/n: haha. hey. hi guys. sorry for all that waiting… i hope it was worth it. This chapter is a little different, no prologue flashback, one scene instead of multiple. Decided this deserved its own chapter. a nice lil mindless sex scene for your reading pleasure. thanks SO SO MUCH for reading, and for your patience!

Disclaimer: i do not give permission to repost my work, please let me know if you see my writing posted anywhere else. reblogs welcome and encouraged to support the author!

—

Your POV

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You were drunk, but not too drunk to forget what you’d said last night.

The sunlight streams through the blinds, giving the room an orange glow. It’s early, but the bed next to you is empty. Understandably. Shit! You sit up, groaning as the movement makes your head throb. You’re in your underwear, and the shirt you’d worn to the bar last night. You can feel the underwire of your bra digging into your flesh. There was absolutely no reason to go that crazy last night, not if this is the aftermath.

As you’re gaining the courage to stand, the door swings open, and you catch Eddie’s eyes for a millisecond before he looks to the floor, face beet red, breakfast burrito clenched in his grip.

“Sorry, shit, I thought you would have left by now.” Eddie tries to leave the room, but you stop him before you know what you’re doing.

��Wait! Wait,” He stops, slowly stepping back into the room. “Eddie, I am so sorry.” You blurt the words out before you can chicken out. “That was so unfair to you. I was so wasted and I was celebrating, and I wanted to tell you about it but I-”

“Y/n,” Eddie’s voice is calm, firm. “Slow down.”

You take a deep breath, centering yourself. Your head has stopped spinning since Eddie’s appearance in front of you, but you try not to make too much of that. He’s dressed in his usual attire, a pair of black ripped jeans, beat up sneakers, and a well worn band t-shirt. Today’s choice just so happens to be the homemade, one of a kind Death Dance Approximately shirt you’d given to Eddie a lifetime ago. He’s since cropped it right above his navel, exposing his midriff, including a tattoo you’d forgotten existed: Your initials on his hip bone.

Shit!

“Okay,” You start, unsure of how you’re gonna dig yourself out of this one.”I want to apologize.”

Eddie’s face contorts, confusion carved into his features. He leans against the wall, still so far away from you.

“What for?”

You gesture loosely to the air. “Well, you know, everything. Last night.”

“Everything, huh?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he sounds hurt.

“It wasn’t fair. I was drunk, I shouldn’t have barged in here, put you in that position.” You trip over yourself, feeling your throat tighten. Do not fucking cry right now.

“Well,” Eddie draws the word out slowly as he pushes off the wall and towards you. “I can only accept that apology under a certain condition.” He looms over where you sit on the edge of the bed, surrounding you. He smells freshly like cigarettes and mint, clouding your brain as he fills your senses.

“And what would that condition be?” You try to sound unbothered, but your words come out meek, nervous.

“If you mean it or not.”

You gape at him, unblinking, waiting for him to crack, to say “Nah, I'm just kiddin’! We don’t have to get into this right now!” But he doesn’t. He takes another bite of his breakfast instead before tossing it on the dresser, completely unfazed by your silence.

“Do I mean that I'm sorry?” You’re playing very, very dumb right now.

Eddie isn’t willing to drop it, though. “Sweetheart, c’mon. We’re adults. I thought we were over this tiptoeing shit.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes rolling.

“I-” You huff, flustered with the way his neck flexes.. “Look. I didn’t want it to happen like that.” You look at him, determined to get through this without actually admitting anything. “I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Why not?” Eddie shrugs, like this is no big fucking deal.

–

Eddie’s POV

He really hopes you can’t tell he’s sweating. He can feel his heart in his throat, choking him with every breath. He keeps his eyes on you to focus. He can’t let you go again. Not after those words have left your mouth.

“Why not?!” You shake your head at him, frustration practically bursting out of your ears. Good, he thinks, you deserve to squirm a little. “How about, because this is what happened the first time? We moved too fast, we didn’t think, and look how that ended up! Or, how about, you’re supposed to be getting well, and the last fucking thing you need is me distracting you. Or, because if this doesn’t go well, we still have another month on the road together! And the fans, what are they gonna say when-”

“Stop.” Eddie shakes his head, kneeling on the floor in front of you. He should be pissed, but he can’t bring himself to be even a little upset. He has the upperhand now, and all he wants is to hear you say it again. Sober, this time. “Please, just tell me if you mean it.”

–

Your POV

I should lie to him. It’s not a good idea to tell him, not right now. You could take it back, this is your chance to make everything go back to that uncomfortable, tension riddled “normal” you’ve become so used to with Eddie. Things would be so much easier if you could just lie to him. But the way he’s looking at you, with a hopeful discretion, chocolate eyes wet with unfallen tears. makes every rational thought slide out of your brain, only leaving room for the way he’s pleading with you, wordlessly, as his hands grip yours tightly, hopefully.

“I mean it. Of course I fucking mean it, Eddie.” You barely get the words out before he’s climbing on top of you, hands letting go of yours to find purchase on the mattress either side of you, and you let yours fly to his hair, tangling your fingers through it like it’s second nature. You are quickly overwhelmed by him, your space completely infiltrated. The walls you’d been reinforcing to keep him out now crumble without a second thought, and he’s the one behind the wrecking ball.

“Thank fucking god.” He mumbles against your lips, and you smile into the kiss as he lays you down on the mattress.

“Eddie, wait,” You come to your senses, one final time as his mouth detaches from yours. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Eddie has moved his mouth to your jaw, and you feel him chuckle against your skin as he kisses down your throat. “Even after all these years, you still doubt that I want this? That I want you?” You can feel his hand slide up your shirt, his skin lighting yours on fire. “You are all I want. All I could ever want. In fact,” He pulls himself away from your neck to look at your face. He’s serious suddenly, all traces of sweet teasing gone. “I should be the one asking if you want this.” He moves to get off of you, but you wrap your legs around his waist, holding him down. You’re tired of pretending not to want him, of avoiding how you feel because it’s easier. “I do. I really, really do.”

Eddie groans as you pull him back to your lips, letting the kiss say everything you’ve wanted to this whole tour. You hold his face in your hands, afraid he’ll disappear if you let go. His hand finds your skin again, sliding up your back to where your bra is still clasped. You’re nodding before he can even get the question out, and you feel the relief as he unhooks the fabric. He tugs your shirt off swiftly, and you let the straps of your bra slide down your shoulders.

–

Eddie’s POV

He separates from you then, getting up to kneel in front of where you lay on the bed, mostly exposed, save for your modest pair of black cotton panties. “Fuck,” The word comes out in a heavy breath as he takes in the sight before him. Your torso is littered with tattoos he’s never seen before, including one nestled between your tits. And speaking of, he can’t help but let his eyes land on your chest, admiring how your nipples have pebbled even before he’s really touched you.

“Still beautiful as ever.” He’s mostly talking to himself, but you smile up at him, eyes crinkling around the edges, and he feels his dick throb in his too-tight pants.

“I can’t be the only one exposed here!” You exclaim through giggles, and he obliges without argument, yanking his shirt over his head before moving back towards you.

–

Your POV

He’s been shirtless in front of you a few times over the past month, but not in this context. You watch, delighted as his abdomen tightens when you run your fingers down his stomach, along his happy trail to the waistband of his pants. You rake your fingernails over his skin, trace the new ink you hadn’t yet seen up close, listening to his breath hitch when you unbutton his jeans. Before you can yank his pants down, though, Eddie grips your hand in his, moving it back to the mattress. “We’ll get to that. Let me taste you first.” If you weren’t so eager, the words would have knocked you out, but you nod again as Eddie climbs clumsily off the bed to kneel back on the floor. He takes hold of your ankles, swiftly pulling you to the end of the mattress. You feel those pesky bats in your stomach for the first time in what feels like forever, heat rushing to your face as Eddie moves further in between your legs.

He’s in no rush as he moves up your body, lingering to place soft kisses in the crevices of your knees, the plush of your thighs, the peaks of your hips. He ghosts over your clothed heat, nose grazing your mound as he watches you writhe and plead above him. He’s amused by your eagerness, you know him well enough, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You want him, need him, and you’re tired of pretending you don’t.

Eddie is about to yank your last shred of clothing from your body when there’s a knock on the door.

—

Eddie’s POV

You have got to be fucking kidding. “What?!” He shouts, irritated, relaxing only slightly when he feels you giggling underneath him.

“Have you seen Y/n?” It’s Steve, taking his morning roll call. Eddie looks to you for the answer, but you only shrug, face getting redder by the second.

He moves to get off of you, but you follow him like attracting magnets, attaching your lips to his neck as he tries to answer his friend, causing his words to get lost in the fog, only letting out a strangled “Uhh…”

“Ed?” Steve twists the doorknob, out of habit probably. You flinch, and he feels his heart crack. “Wha- yeah! Sorry, I'm a little busy right now!” He clenches his teeth to keep from moaning as you lick a stripe up the column of his throat.

“Busy? You wanna know busy?!” Eddie can picture Steve behind the door, leaning into the peephole, one hand on his hip the other gesturing wildly. As pretty as Steve may be, the image is killing Eddie’s hard-on right now.

You’re not about to let that happen, though. “Steve, go away.” A command. He shifts, dick twitching in his pants again like a fuckin’ teenager.

“I-,” Pause. “Y/n?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Then the fading of his footsteps down the hall. Eddie wills himself to look at you again, and is rewarded with your shit eating grin. “You are such a brat.” He scoffs, no actual effort behind the insult.

You have the gall to pout at him, like you’re an innocent bystander.

“Does this mean you don’t want to fuck me anymore?”

He gapes at your question, blinking rapidly as he digests it.

—

Your POV

You’d meant it to lighten the mood, but you’ve caught him off guard. Instead of his answer, you’re greeted with another interruption beyond the door. “Hey, love birds! Steve sent me over here because it is far too awkward for him to talk to you in this position, but I, frankly, am happy to relay the information.” While Robin is talking at you, Eddie is making his way closer, lowering to the floor while you bite back laughter at the mess you've gotten yourself into.

”We check out in two hours. If you plan to live out your honeymoon a little longer, it will be on your own dime!” Eddie kisses up your leg, grazing your skin with his nose, sending chills up your spine. Robin is seemingly unaware of your state, or she genuinely does not care. “We’re all going out for dinner tonight before everyone goes home, and both of you better not skip it to cuddle up in bed, you can do that for as long as you want, starting tomorrow. Also,” Eddie’s yanking at your waistband, his body shaking with giggles that you echo despite the knot in your stomach tightening with his touch. “Why are you laughing? What are you guys even doing in there? I know you’re not still asleep.”

”Robin!” Eddie calls, voice strained against his laughter. “I’m trying to eat!”

You drop your jaw, sending a backhanded slap to his shoulder.

”Did you guys get room service? Got any extra-,”

You cut her off with an involuntary moan, caused by Eddie slipping a finger past the damp cotton barricade of your underwear to slide teasingly between your folds. You smack a hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. There’s no way she didn’t hear that.

“Are you okay in th-“ It clicks. Finally. “Oh my god. Oh my god! Are you guys fucking?!” No regard for her fellow guests, or her best friend, Robin is cackling on the other side of the door. You’re in crisis, and she’s laughing!

”We’re trying!” You shriek back, feeling the frustration build as Eddie’s finger circles around your clit, causing you to grind against his hand.

“Oh my god. Wait. Is this first time?! Am I interrupting? Holy shit, I am so sorry-“

”Robin!” Eddie shouts again, this time sternly, losing his patience.

“Yeah?”

”Leave.”

”Yup, yup. See ya!” And finally, the fading of her footsteps, scurrying down the hall.

Eddie turns his face back to your center, littering kisses on your thigh as he wiggles your underwear away from your body.

You can’t help but get in one last dig. “You think she’s going to tell Gareth?”

His smile drops from his face completely, jaw tightly clenched. “I have no problem ignoring him yelling at me on the other side of that door. I think at this point he knows I don’t listen to him. And, he’d probably be relieved to find out I grew a pair.”

You scoff, ready with a wise ass remark when he shuts you up with a slow, wet lick between your folds. He glides your panties the rest of the way down your legs, and you don’t miss him pocketing them before moving his hands back to your thighs.

“Fuck,” you whine, desperately clawing at the sheets as Eddie’s tongue latches to your clit, tracing eager patterns across the bud. You drop your head back to the mattress, willing your brain to turn off. Eddie groans into your pussy, rutting against the mattress as he slips a single ringed digit into your hole. You buck your hips, aching for more and blinded by how good it all feels, how familiar. You’d had your fair share of one night stands since leaving Eddie, enough to get used to the normalcy of bad sex. Now, you’re blinded by how Eddie reads your body, like you’re written in a language only he can understand.

His tongue moves in circles over your clit, fingers curling steadily inside of you. The sounds he causes you to make are wet and absolutely filthy, but you can’t bring yourself to feel any shame. It’s Eddie, after all. You can feel your desire ripple through you, the coil in your stomach tightening with each swipe of his tongue, every stroke of his finger. He doesn’t relent, keeping an agonizing pace while you grind your pussy against his face, desperate for release. In response to your begging, Eddie groans into your core, the vibrations sending a shock of pleasure up your spine, and your vision goes white.

“Eddie, I’m gonna, fuck I’m gonna come!” It doesn’t take you long to feel your resolve snap, sending your legs shaking on either side of Eddie’s head. He holds you in place, still lapping at your juices as he claws at your hips, a response to the desperate praise you sing for him, an unintelligible string of curses and his name through breathy sighs as you attempt to slow your heart down. Eddie only pulls away when you tap the top of his head lightly, signaling your overstimulation. He releases his mouth from your core with a wet pop, and you can see his lips and chin are shiny with your arousal.

“Good as you remember?” He hovers over you, teasing smirk on his swollen lips as you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Even better, somehow.” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his body flush against yours. Your breathing is still ragged, heart still skipping around in your chest as he closes the gap between you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You take his distracted state as an opportunity, tightening your grip around him, flipping him onto the mattress, landing on top of him a little less gracefully than you’d have liked, causing Eddie to burst into laughter. You’re quick to shut him up, grinding your sensitive cunt over his clothed cock, feeling it kick up at the contact. “You wanna help me get these off?” You ask sweetly, toying with the button of his jeans.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart.” His head falls against the mass of pillows, head foggy with the heat between his legs. “Keep doin’ that and I won’t even get the tip in.” Eddie grips your hips harshly, willing you to be still. Touching you doesn’t help in centering himself, though.

“What a shame that would be,” You tease, unclasping his belt as you speak. “Guess I’ll have to move quickly.” Eddie gets the hint, tucking his thumbs into the waistband to assist in getting his stupidly tight jeans off. He’ll curse himself about it another time, though. Right now, he’s solely focused on you, yanking his pants and underwear from his body, and tossing them to the floor carelessly before straddling him again.

You’ve always been a tease, and even all of this time apart hasn’t changed that, Eddie notices. You move slowly, sliding the length of his cock between your wet folds, head lolled to the side as you close your eyes, as if focusing into the feeling between your body and his. Eddie bites back a groan as he watches your performance, awestruck by the closeness. You infiltrate his senses, and he wills himself not to close his eyes from the pleasure.

Finally, after what feels like eternity, his swollen tip catches on your entrance, jolting him into action. He takes his cock in his hand, preparing to line up to your center the way he must have hundreds of times before. Even after these years apart, the distance both emotionally and physically between you, it is a second nature to him. You’re about an inch away when he has a moment of clarity.

“Wait,”

You huff in complaint. “Seriously?”

“I don’t have a condom.”

–

Your POV

That has never stopped him before, and you can feel the panic in your throat as you ask the question. “Have you ben fucking other people?”

He stutters, “Well, I-”

“Wait. Don’t answer that. Did you wear one when you were fucking other people?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’m on the pill, you’re being safe.” You shrug. Nonchalant. Not desperate at all.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“When you fuck other people, do they… ?”

“I just said I’m on the pill.”

“Yeah, okay, but you don’t know who these guys are, what diseases-”

“Okay, Eddie, stop. First of all, how do you know what genetalia the people I’m fucking have?”

That shuts him up. “Yeah. Also, if you must know, I have made all the people with penises wear a rubber. Feel better?”

Eddie is silent, and you let your brain run with your panic again. The mood is dead, Eddie is over the spontaneous, passionate confession and he’s never going to speak to you again.

“Okay.” He shrugs, and before you can respond he grips your hips, guiding you down onto his cock as you roll your hips forward, taking him deeper. Without much effort, you take his entire length, reveling in the familiar stretch of your walls. He lets you set the pace at first, a vice grip on your hips as you gain your strength, bouncing on his cock as he bucks his hips into you. You feel him growing impatient though, his thrusts growing eager, hands migrating up to grab your tits. Though you would love to draw this out, make him beg you for it, you find you’re just as desperate, watching him beneath you, mouth slack and eyes glossy, a picture you’ve missed for so long.

He finally sits up, and you let him wrap an arm around your waist, flipping you onto the mattress. Effortlessly, Eddie gains control, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist, allowing him even deeper inside of you. The new sensation draws a guttural moan from you, unabashed and absolutely filthy.

“Fuck, I missed that sound,” Eddie speaks between grunts, seemingly hypnotized by the way his movements cause your boobs to bounce. He continues snapping his hips, prodding that spot deep inside, that only he’s ever been able to reach. “Thought about ‘em all the time. Couldn’t let myself forget those pretty noises.” All the while, you can’t form a single coherent thought, brain foggy from the heat, coil in your stomach tightening again. He looks so beautiful above you, curly bangs stuck to his face with perspiration, eyes blown out with desire.

Eddie babbles on, ever the talker. “Missed these beauties,” He holds himself up with one hand, the other squeezing your tit again teasingly, and you giggle. “And this pussy too, so much.” the same hand travels down, ghosting over your skin until he reaches between your bodies, rubbing sweet circles on your clit. “Best I ever had, only one I ever wanted. Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. You feel so fucking good.”

“I missed you too, Eddie. You make me feel so good.” It’s a whisper, all you really have the strength for. He’s panting, resting his sweaty forehead against your own as you breathe into each other’s mouths, and his smile widens with your admission. His rhythm stutters slightly, but he doesn’t relent. “Need you to say it again, baby. Wanna hear you tell me again.”

You don’t have to ask what he means. Through your haze, you can barely get the words out, but you muster enough from the way he’s looking at you. “I love you, Eddie.”

Eddie groans at your words, throwing his head into the crook of your neck, like he’s embarrassed by his sensitivity “Fuck, I love you too. I love you so much, y/n. So. Fucking. Much.” He punctuates each word with a thrust, bringing you to peak.

And he’s right behind you. “Where should I-” He lifts his head up, and he looks at you with wide, frightened eyes.

“Inside, Eddie, please come inside me.” Your breathing is ragged, legs twitching rapidly as you cry out, white knuckles gripping the mattress.

“Shit, baby, fuck!” Eddie keeps his pace until you can’t hold on, the tether finally snapping as your walls tighten around him. You throw your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin as his cock twitches. He comes with you, spilling inside of you as a shiver runs through his body. You bring your mouth to his, swallowing his whines as you both ride out your orgasms, skin sticking to skin with sweat and spit.

Reluctantly, Eddie slips himself out of you, causing you to whine at the loss. Before you can say anything, he’s rolling out of bed and into the bathroom.

—

Eddie’s POV

He needs a minute. Maybe an hour. Realistically he’s gonna need a month. Shit. Regret isn’t the right word. Ashamed, maybe, of his lack of resolve when the subject comes to you. He’s vulnerable, exposed. He tries to shake the intrusive voice from his brain yelling in his ear that he doesn’t deserve to be loved, especially not by you.

“Eds?” Your voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he takes a deep, heavy breath before returning to you with a wet cloth.

“Sorry, got a little lost.” He chuckles, suddenly unsure how to approach this. Post sex for Eddie lately had consisted of a brief wave and a paid cab at most. Something tells him that isn’t the correct approach this time.

“Where’d you go?” You tilt your head, lending your ear like nothing’s changed since yesterday.

Eddie shakes his head. He won’t let himself ruin this again. “Nowhere more important than here.” He slips the cloth between your legs, gently wiping your inner thighs as he speaks. “Just had to pinch myself a few times.”

When you smile at him, he forgets everything he’s supposed to be worried about. He can only smile back, briefly before he kisses you again. He makes a point to be gentle, to show you he means it. Nothing is more important than here, now, with you. When your hands lace into his hair again he can’t help but sigh, as if relieved to be in your arms again.

He can’t fully shake the tension, though, and you seem to sense that. “We’ll figure this out, okay? We can talk after dinner. Just float here with me a little longer.” Your soft hand caresses his stubbled cheek, tickling him slightly as he reads your features. There is so much love in your eyes, it causes his heart to race.

Eddie nods, leaning his cheek further into your palm. You lean in again, kissing him gently as if sealing your word. He pulls you into his lap, holding you as closely as he physically can. You stay like that for awhile, before migrating to the balcony, lazily draped in t shirts as you smoke your cigarettes, enjoying each other’s presence. For now, Eddie can relax. Even for a few minutes, he is grateful for the silence.

—

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @potatobeanpies @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc @veemoon | send a message to be added🫶

#eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #smut #angst #fluff #fd #afab!reader #gnc!reader #90s au #slow burn #mutual pining #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #strangerthingscentral #st4

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uhnomahlee · 2 years

Text

them seeing you for the first time // fire force headcanon

pairings: agender!hibana x black gnc plus-size reader & agender!benimaru x black gnc plus-size reader

{mdni/f}

a/n: dese my faves so most fire force imagines/headcanons gon pertain to dem…reader=oc bc i shan’t type (yn) we gotta have substance thank yewww. as always the ocs have a lil background to dem. i loveeee maki and hinawa they otw sewn. my eyes + mind don’t apply gender like det to cartoon characters seww,,,enjoy🧌might be proofread perhapn’t

hibana

ime never associated theirself with any infrastructures seeing as their ability to have so much control over individuals propped the people of tokyo up to be puppets

they knew of the white-clad and evangelist, keeping their abilities hidden. one slip-up and they would have to fight that entire factor and more

however the rapid and random appearances of infernals tested them each and every day

on a particular day while on a leisure walk, ime heard the recognizable wails of a human turning into an infernal in an alleyway, eyes flitting to the direction it came from

not even a second later, an individual behind them burst in flames as well, falling to the ground in agony as the flesh burned off

it was hell on earth—the fire, screams, souls no longer tied to an earthly vessel

ime didn’t associate with the fire force, holy sol temple, or haijima. but they did associate theirself with the people affected by the appearance and action of infernals

the accumulation of infernals in the area put ime into gear, their dark brown irises disappearing to only show the white of their eyes glowing

an infernal clamped onto ime, arms wrapping around their body.

the creature was turned to dust from the single touch

a white flame flickered inside ime’s body, growing to an unimaginable temperature

checking their surroundings, they saw most of the people had left the premises

company five made their arrival a couple seconds after the infernal was put down

the focal point of the fires were located near ime, making the vehicles turn down the street where they stood

a beam of a white flame emitted from ime’s mouth, mowing down a good portion of the internals coming their way

“and who is that?” hibana inquired, their interest piqued immediately

the lack of fireproof gear and proximity to the creatures either proved an unpowered civilian’s stupidity or posed the immense power of a pyrokinetic teetering the line between idiocy and bravery

either way, hibana wanted them cleared from the grounds immediately

“not sure captain. i’ve never seen them before,” tokuyama replied, bringing the vehicle to a halt. “what should we do?”

hibana was unresponsive, petal pupils enlarging. fascination etched itself into their features

ime finished off the rest of the infernals on the block using hand to hand combat. their hits never connected due to the overwhelming heat of their body dissipating the infernals’ vessels instantly

“captain hibana?” tokuyama repeated, concern growing. “we should act now. more infernals were reported across the town.”

blinking theirself from the trance, hibana spoke, “take the squad down the parallel streets and take out any infernals you see. make sure the civilians are evacuating correctly. don't let them get in a frenzy and make things worse.” they opened the passenger door and stepped out, heels clacking against the ground.

“captain, what about you? i know you love your research but approaching pyros you know nothing about is very different from capturing an infernal”

“lieutenant, i believe i gave you orders.” hibana shot a glare at the man. “do you need to be disciplined in the middle of an emergency?”

tokuyama diverted his gaze. “...no. sorry captain. we will secure the streets immediately.” face reddening, the soldier pulled off, leading the rest of the squad to the other roads

hibana continued their strut towards ime, confidence wafting from them with every step

sensing the approaching human energy source, ime dampened their own inner flame, reducing the heat they were emitting.

one look at the fire force garment worn and irritation swelled up

they walked past hibana without a word, searching for any more infernals wandering the area

the captain fell flush with embarrassment then quickly gathered theirself reaching out their fan and tapping ime’s shoulder

“excuse me. any particular reason you aren’t in uniform? which company do you belong to?” hibana probed, eyes shamelessly scanning the broad full-figured individual

ime turned around, making hibana’s confidence resurface for a moment before the captain set their eyes on the individual

piercings were centered in the middle of their shaven brows as well as a single stud in the center of their bottom lip. the bridge of their nose was adorned with a jewel too

a hardened expression contorted ime’s face, a small scowl and dark eyes directed at hibana

yeah….the words hibana were going to say got swept the hell away

there was this aura that flowed from ime and caressed hibana’s entire psyche and gently brought them to their knees—mentally—with no hesitation

okay bc hibana x tsundere dom byeeeeee these niggas would be too much

“i wouldn’t let myself belong to a company, that unhinged cult, or those engineering shitheads at haijiima even if my fucken life depended on it,” was ime’s response, voice modulated and low

hibana was stuck between finding the reply arousing and disrespectful, the two emotions tussling wildly as they stared at ime, trying their best to sustain their supreme demeanor

“well then…well then you-” hibana’s mind struggled to form a sentence under ime’s unwavering glare. “get out of the area. our squad can handle it. you’re just a civilian and you need to evacuate,” they demanded, proud their voice stood its ground

but that shit did not matter

ime’s browbone rose, piercing glinting

“fuck that.”

ime’s eyes flickered to white and they began hovering off the ground.

hibana blinked once and ime was taking off into the sky descending into the road nearby, ready to aid the civilians

a very disoriented hibana stood, skin hot with embarrassment and the prominent arousal churning in their abdomen

“that…motherfucker”

benimaru

“for the last time old lady, your sweets have too much damn sugar. you tryna kill me or what?” benimaru stopped walking, irked

the lady gave them a wide smile, wrinkles protruding, persistent in her attempt to offer the youngin some delicacies

a staring match ensued as always

the breeze grazed benimaru’s black tresses before they sighed, grumbling thanks as they took a hold of the basket

“have a good day benimaru-chan!” the elderly woman yelled after them

benimaru smacked their lips looking at the basket. “at least she made a bit less this time. maybe a new recipe too? hell if i know…i’ll let the twins get to it before-”

their nose twitched, a scent making their steps falter, eyes flitting to their right

the individual caught benimaru’s attention, gaze’s meeting each other’s

kayode’s fully black eyes crinkled as they gave a smile, gesturing to the pastries at their stand

“would you like to try a cup of degue? i will let you have the first cup for free,” their silvery voice spoke, black henna decorating their exposed dark brown skin

benimaru diverted their gaze, an unfamiliar thump in their chest kickstarting their heart into turmoil

they nearly ran off into the direction of their home, not giving a response

benimaru wondered why they weren’t alerted of the new resident’s presence considering their position as the town’s representatives

also yes, a part of beni needed to know who that was soon and konro would most definitely have that knowledge if not anyone else

stepping into the household, hika and hina hopped into view, ready to pounce on the snacks

“these goodies better be up to par or the grim reaper’s not letting her slip through their hands again!”

beni furrowed their brows as they set the basket down. “seriously, who the fuck teaches you to talk like this. shit.”

catching a glimpse of konro, beni left the twins to food while they called out to him

konro turned, a soft smile on his face. “back from your walk? how many times were you stopped this time?”

“do you know the new vendor?” benimaru interjected needing to get straight to the point. too forward, they thought. “why don’t i-we know about them?”

konro smiled, heading towards the entryway of the building. “you’re right. we don’t know much about them. and as protectors of the town we should find out more right?”

“why are you talking like that?”

konro shrugged. “dunno what you’re going on about.” he cleared his throat, side by side with his friend as they moseyed down the sidewalk. “so this vendor. did you taste the food?”

benimaru narrowed their eyes. “no. are you drunk or something? why are you acting like that?”

konro waved a hand dismissively. “just that you usually don’t ask about new vendors. you get told about them. ya know they don’t interest you much. but...i guess things can change with you.”

beni narrowed their eyes at konro, caught in his inquisition. they went silent until they came across the familiar vendor stand

kayode handed a customer a cup, laughing at something that was said

“i’m guessing this is it.”

beni blinked. “what? you-” their jaw clenched. “it’s just our job to know who resides in our town.”

“oh yeah, definitely.” konro crossed his arms, cocking his head slightly. “so, why don’t you go ahead and get that job done. i hear the twins fighting again.“

breaking off their stare at the new vendor for the third time, benimaru readied a rebuttal.

but the older nigga had skedaddled, figure running off into the distance before beni could speak

“fucker,” they muttered, fists clenching

kayode had turned around, fixing up some more cups of the different beverages and desserts

“that offer is still up if you want” back facing benimaru, kayode declared before pouring a thick substance into a small mug

“who are you? when did you move here?” smooth benimaru, interrogating instead of accepting a kind offer. nice start.

kayode set the cup down, turning around. they set their black eyes on benimaru, features mellow

their garments differed from that of tokyo, traditional west african garments adorned their wide frame, black and gold designs printed onto the clothing

“have you ever heard of the divine flame shinmon benimaru?”

the captain grew rigid, their name spoken with a tone that made their chest tighten.

they found theirself walking closer to kayode. “i…i haven’t.”

“it predates the very sun we live under and countless others.” they stepped out from behind the merchandise, grabbing a cup of degue, hands supporting the cup from beneath and the side. “my ancestors were born from that flame and have passed down that essence for billions of years”

speechless, beni fell into kayode’s black gaze, feeling a scorching heat envelope them in comfort

benimaru dipped into another consciousness for a moment, a darkness surrounding them, their pyrokinetics stifled

“how did it taste?” kayode pulled benimaru from their domain, a warm smile stretching across their face

beni looked down at the empty cup, the remnants of the sweet liquid on their tongue making their body tingle. then they raised their gaze to kayode, a blush creeping across their skin when they felt the desire to be entrapped in that heat again

“um…it’s…” mind blank, beni felt their face rush with more blood and only handed back the cup. “thank you.” shit, just talk, at least say something else

kayode murmured, “have a good day, shinmon benimaru”

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evankelmpp · 2 years

Text

Superman hcs !!

disclaimer!! autism is a spectrum the way i may experience is not the way we all experience it, im just going off of mine

Tags:

SFW, superman x autistic!reader, gnc!reader, fluff, alternative!reader , i am a newer superman fan so that’s it’s own warning, no pronouns used, and alt!reader, mention of allergies (reader has allergies), reader is physically smaller then superman (not like 4,5 petite or skinny, weight isn’t mentioned)

(sorry for the 50 million tags just wanted to include more diversity cause i see none)

• Due to his super senses he’s incredibly understanding of your overstimulation

• since he got used to it he’d give you his old noise cancelling headphones

•everything’s so quiet you think you went deaf the first time trying them (they were made for superpowered senses)

•he would love listening to your SI’s and would casually learn more to add to the conversation

•(he’d also bring it your super causally like he wasn’t researching it just for u)

•he would end up sneaking you to the daily planet to meet anyone involved with your SI

• for example, if you were obsessed with a show/book he would push for the creator to get interviewed just so you could meet them

•if you had trouble putting your hair up in liberty spikes he’d help

• “Y’know i used to use a whole can of hair spray when i first became superman” he‘d tell you, the first time helping you out

• “yea I know you looked like a pomade ad” you teased

• he wouldn’t laugh but for a split second you think you saw a smirk

• after months of convincing he’d let you put guyliner on him

•THE HUGS THIS MAN WOULD GIVE OMG

•if you are like me and love deep pressure he would 100% deliver

•it’d put all weighted blankets to shame

• “are you sure this isn’t too much i don’t wanna hurt you”

• “i would be so happy to die like this Kal”

• if you even slightly joke like that he would be so worried and fussy over you afterwards

• (he’d secretly use his vision to make sure there was no broken bones)

• this is the bare minimum but he would never judge your style nor you stimming around him

• your guys place would look hilarious half of the house would look all country and fall and your side would look like a haunted house

• opposites attract 100%

• he’d be a regular at all of your safe food places and hide snacks around his place (before you moved in with him) just to always make sure your able to eat at his place (made myself sob with this one)

• he didn’t want you to feel anyway abt that so he’d lie and say they just conveniently… were… at his… place

• he’s a shit lier

• he’d also carry a epipen with him just incase

• after you had a severe reaction and it’s tense because he just had to use the epipen and is still worried about you, you’d joke about how techincally he also has an allergy

• in your drowsy state you’d say “ since kyriptonite is from your home plant and it hurts you… wouldn’t that be like a grass allergy?”

• he’d just kinda look at you like :|

• You guys had planned a date night but after he kicks ass as superman and you have a long day at work/school you decided to just spend time together at home

• You have the wise idea to swap clothes

• You try and fail to not stare at his abs as he basically destroys your rob zombie t-shirt

• You have to tie back your dyed hair and wear a hat and wear a flannel that’s bigger then you so you have to also tie it back

•there’s no way you could wear his pants without rolling up the pants legs 50x so you just wear leggings underneath

• he is half naked with crappy black makeup cause you insisted that he did his own makeup

• you both look stupid but keep pictures to commemorate

• you are practically drooling, like you do not already date this man when you convince him to wear a crop top (it’s not really a crop top he just ripped your shirt trying to put it on but still)

• he is overjoyed when you give him kandi especially when you teach him what plur is and he accidentally breaks them and felt so bad (he looked like a kicked puppy)

• he either leaves them at home or secretly replaces them with stronger material (the elastic band) so he can actually wear them

• he would be confused but very supportive of raves

• we love Kal el in this household

• also you constantly accidentally text his name as Kale because of your autocorrect and it’s the only thing you found out that annoys him

• you abuse that fact

#totally not projecting #not proofread #superman #superman x reader #superman x you

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gggoldfinch · 2 years

Text

Nearly Fine

Book!Feyd-Rautha x GN!Reader

A/N as of Feb 2022: Hi hello, this is the first fic I'm publishing on this newish blog which,, Wow,, momentous occasion, woo-hoo. Anyway, I’d just like to pop in and say that this fic is based off BOOK Feyd. The casting of Dune pt2 hasn't even been released yet lmao, but I wrote this with the ever-popular/ flawless fancast of Barry Keoghan in mind. Do with that what you will. Additionally, this is set towards the end of the book, when he’s 19-20,, so An Adult™ (minors gtfo). There’s barely any x reader content for dune characters other than Paul and Leto, and ZERO for Feyd which is,,, upsetting to say the least. Anyway enjoy lol.

Warnings: MILD DUNE BOOK SPOILERS, references to sex, references to violence/ blood, mild existentialism, angst, fluff, pet names, no usage of Y/N or pronouns (but there are references to Bene Gesserit teachings/ reader being called a concubine, which are both traditionally female-oriented. It’s the super-future and Feyd himself is already gnc so who cares about gender roles anyway lmao)

Word Count: 1,374

{AO3 Link}

Summary: You’re Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s secret lover, but with unrest in the Imperium and him aiming to take Arrakis and the Golden Lion Throne, fear of the future keeps you awake at night. In a moment of intimacy, he is there to reassure you that everything will be alright...

———————————————————————

You can't quite make out the bedroom in the dark. The outline of the mirror looms here, a small sliver of outside light beams across there. You haven't been able to fall asleep for quite some time now, your mind working overtime as you jump from one thought to another, overthinking and only further knotting up the ball of worry pitted in your chest. So many things have happened in the past few standard years... death in the ranks, usurping of power, schemes, revenge. It's all rather overwhelming, and you find yourself nearly dead-center in the mess of it all. Sweat beads on your forehead and upper lip, the sheer stress of thinking about it forming knots in your muscles tight enough that no Bene Gesserit meditation could ever unwind them. The warm, bare body nuzzled up closely beside you provides little comfort as your spiral further into self-destructive anxiety.

The arm around your waist twitches, and the soft snoring gently tapers off. Feyd-Rautha stirs from his slumber, observing your waking breath sounds for a few moments before speaking.

"You're awake..." his low voice is hoarse with sleep by your ear.

You hum quietly, tired eyes still fixed onto the darkened ceiling. He noses your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair. He can feel your tense rigidity, you’re sure of it.

Sighing, he rouses, raising up on his elbow to lean over you. The silky ends of his long curling locks brush your skin, his warm breath fans your face. His auburn hair looks nearly black in the unlit room, his face an equally dark shroud. You can imagine where all his features fit like second nature; the small scars on his right cheek and above his left brow, observant hooded eyes gazing down at you, full lips fixed in a crooked pout, the light freckles dappled over his proud nose.

"Are you alright?" he asks— that warm concern in his voice something you only ever hear addressed to yourself. His warm hand on your bare waist rises from beneath the thin bedsheet to caress your jaw, guiding your shadowed face towards his.

"I'm fine... just thinking," you reply, accepting his lips as they briefly press against yours.

"What's on your mind, pet?"

You allow a long moment to pass, mulling over the worry at the forefront of your mind. I must not fear, you remind yourself weakly. Well, no turning back now. You open your mouth and let the words spill forth in an anxious declaration.

"You care for me, don't you? I'm more than just a body for you to lie with?"

Your blunt question catches him off guard. His breath against your lips stills for a moment and the only movement between you is the gently wavering curtain of his hair trailed along your chest. He inhales deeply, as though steadying himself, and slips his fingers behind your neck and into the hair at your nape.

"Of course I care for you. You know I love you," he answers quietly, sounding slightly strained. He had never been overly comfortable sharing his softer feelings, even in moments of intimacy and safety, and you suddenly feel guilty for dredging up his emotional insecurity. The question has been eating away at you, though.

"I know..."

"There's something else on your mind," he infers, shifting to sit upright, guiding your upper body onto his lap. He strokes your skin, threads his fingers through your hair. His hands, worn from years of being raised as a ruthless warrior, stained by the blood of hundreds, are nothing if not tender upon you.

"You and your uncle have your eyes set on the Imperial throne— you would have to marry Irulan, or one her sisters." He hums in the moment you pause; a confirmation. "What would then become of me?"

A long pause follows your question, and you have half the mind to stir out of his grasp.

"I would take you with me," he finally says, as though it were the most obvious conclusion in the universe. "Make you my Imperial concubine."

You note a gentle tone of pride in his voice. Whether it’s pride over you, or over the thought of being the Emperor, you’re unsure. Perhaps both.

"You would?" Your head tilts back in his lap, peering up at his shadowed face. You can just barely make out the outlines of his cheekbone, his prominent nose. His palms find their places on either side of your face and he leans down, resting his forehead on yours, thumbs tracing circles on your cheeks.

"Politics are cruel and tricky, but I certainly wouldn't care for her as I care for you. She’s stuck up... wouldn’t care for me either. I would wed you if I could." He sighs, leaning back to replace his forehead with his lips.

Another peaceful moment passes held in his lap, just the sounds of breathing to fill the silence. He would wed you? This is the first he’s spoken of such a thing. It sends a pang straight to your heart— of yearning, of melancholy. Such is the life of a secret lover, condemned to reside in his shadow and never truly be on show. Perhaps once the mess on Arrakis is dealt with the pair of you could be more public with your affections...

Arrakis...

"I'm afraid to travel to Arrakis." Your voice wavers, and you suppress the startling urge to cry at the thought of traveling to such a hellish place to do such a hellish thing. The Emperor and his entourage are already preparing to travel, so you’ve heard, to face off against the Fremen and young Atreides Duke.

"You don't have to come along with me, you know. It'll be quick. An in-and-out procedure, really. That Atreides boy seems as though he could blow away in a strong wind. He's probably only grown weaker since being lost to the desert." Feyd laughs, that cocky attitude of his seeping back into his voice. "Taking back the planet will be simple, my dear."

You're not very interested in the workings of inter-House conflicts, nor the politics of Arrakis and its inherent danger, but with so much upset within the Imperium recently, it's hard to turn a blind eye. You know the danger Feyd faces going to Arrakis to challenge the Duke, but you're also distinctly aware of the horrible nature of which the House you fall under prides itself on; you don't fool yourself that Feyd-Rautha, nephew to the Baron and heir-apparent—the same man who now lovingly pets your hair in the darkness of his bedchamber—can be just as cunning and ruthless as any of the worst Harkonnens.

"I'm more afraid of being here, alone, Feyd." You swallow, eyes squeezing shut. "This place is a living hell even when you’re with me."

He chuckles bitterly. Giedi Prime is a hell, not even he could argue against that. The very air is thick with pollution and the people are often even worse than the ruined environment. He can understand why you hate it here... it’s all he’s ever known, though.

You, his precious flower, secret lover, are an off-worlder— a healthy and beautiful transplant from Caladan, not some urchin dredged from the underworlds of Giedi Prime or Tleilax. You’ve seen the expansive waters of Caladan, the majesty of Guild Ships, yet still… you managed to end up on the second-worst planet in the Known Universe. And now you would be joining him on the first-worst, Dune itself.

"No harm will befall you while I'm around, love," he replies through a smirk, twisting you around to hold you against him.

Your chests rise and fall together, warm skin pressed against warm skin. His hands smooth over your back, fingers splayed and palms flat. You cling to him, arms clutched around his neck and shoulders, face buried in his wild hair. He lowers the pair of you back down against the bed.

"Go to sleep, now. We'll discuss this further in the waking hours," he says softly, conforming around you comfortably, petting your hair again.

It's the little moments like this, falling asleep in the arms of the one you love most, that make you nearly forget the hardships in life. Nearly.

#dune #dune fanfiction #feyd-rautha #feyd-rautha harkonnen #feyd-rautha x reader #happy Valentine’s Day lol #ps this isn't irulan slander I love her #Paul slander on the other hand... maybe #frank herbert rolling in his grave rn frfr #goldfinch writes #fic

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xenomoon · 9 months

Text

adrian chase/vigilante headcanons

x civilian/anti-hero reader + x black plus-size gnc reader

sfw and nsfw tones included

has these moments of cockiness and it either pisses you off or…

with that said he likes your hand wrapped around his neck

trans

adopts your phrases really quick

sounds like an echo of you sometimes

backs you up in any argument even if you’re losing

likes to stand close to you

^^sniffing your scent and/or playing with your clothes

when you guys spar he kinda pulls punches even though you don’t. taunting him makes him loosen up

enjoys throwing your body around//picks you up randomly

“look what i just learned how to do. are you looking? i’ll wait. ok ready?”

needy lil baby.

nuzzles into you whenever he’s close

clear frustration when he can’t get your attention

naps with his head in your lap and his face in your stomach

“i can hear your insides”

stares at you when you’re asleep and it scares the hell out of you to wake up with his wide ass eyes on you

forgets to take his meds a majority of the time. def ignores reminders/alarms to finish a story or joke he was telling at the time

puffs out his chest. not even for dominance or anything that’s just his posture

he has a really good arch 🧎🏿

likes to make you laugh + hear any variation of it

uses babe/baby a lot

sings in the shower

gets you to sit in his lap as much as possible

“let’s do it with our masks on”

you know he stalks you and just consider him a guard dog at some point

^actually did catch someone following you home while he was following you home and brought them to your front step all bloodied up and gagged :3

dad jokes

has this look in his eyes when you talk that gives you butterflies

you regret taking him to the club for the first time

^he became the center of multiple dance circles and kept pointing you out to join him

when your assignments are different during a mission, he makes sure to put to use the very long list of call and response phrases he’s forced you to learn

^knows he’s annoying but every time you respond, he smiles with relief

is very soft intimacy-wise

very low whimpers and light gasps

hesitant to grip you tightly at times,,,wants to treat you as gentle as possible

rough when riled up/has pent up emotions,,more of a power bottom then

favors backshots,,always melts in your grip

makes you food for aftercare

does his lil dancey dances with only his mask and normal clothing on,,,will perform multiple songs for you

ah…🧍🏿

#adrian chase #vigilante #adrian chase headcanons #vigilante x black reader #vigilante headcanons #adrian chase x black gnc reader #x black reader #sub!adrian chase #x black plus size reader #x black gnc reader #peacemaker headcanons #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x black gn reader #sub!vigilante #x fat reader #i wrote stuff #peacemaker

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lavienjin · 3 years

Text

thinly veiled desires: begged | jjk

gif header by the lovely sugajimin and this gifset! thanks for letting me use it!

pairing: sub!jungkook x gnc, soft dom!reader

word count: 800

rating: 18+ with themes of bdsm and dom/sub relationship. please don't read if you're uncomfortable.

genre/au: idol, bdsm au

warnings: pwp • blindfolded • swearing • fingering (anal) • handjob • aftercare • pet names • jungkook being needy because i can't stop myself

author's note: this drabble series is finally done! thank you for all the support so far and i hope you enjoyed reading through it! huge thank you again to sugajimin for letting me use their wonderful gifs as headers! please make sure you check them out!! oh and feel free to let me know your thoughts about this fic or the series as a whole.

series m.list | general m.list | ao3

immediate smut after the read more!

It's been a long fucking work week filled with photoshoots and promotions and all Jungkook wants is to lay in the comfort of your arms while you twist and bend his limber body in various positions to satisfy his desires.

He's quick to disrobe as soon as he enters your shared space, cock already hardening as he wonders what you have planned for him that day. Just as he's putting his clothes in the wardrobe, there's a note and a scrap of black fabric that catches his eye.

"Wear this and kneel," it reads simply in your neat handwriting.

Gulping, Jungkook does as he's told, knees sinking into the plush carpet as he steadies his breathing. After a few moments, the door to the room clicks open and he snaps his head at the mention of his name.

"Baby," you coo, stroking his hair gently before kneeling behind him, deft fingers checking to make sure the blindfold is secured. "You performed so well in front of that crowd. Is it finally my turn to hear you sing?"

"Y-Yes," he mutters, breath hitching when your fingers travel south to wrap around his hardened length. "Fuck!"

You glide your palm up and down his cock, humming as he writhes, coaxing him with sweet words against his ear to be louder. Jungkook obliges your request, head snapping upwards when you focus on the tip, thumb dragging gently across the slit to smear precum all over the head.

"Mmh, feels good, more," he chants while his fingernails dig into his thighs.

Jungkook whines pathetically when your warmth disappears, head whipped to your general direction as he pouts. He hears you chuckle, further away than he originally thought you'd be. "On your hands and knees for me, Kook. You've had a tough week, so let's relax, yeah?"

There's a quiet thrum of anticipation as he waits, listening to the various noises in the room until he catches the soft padding of your feet on the carpet. His mouth opens to ask you a question, but the only sound that comes out is a whimper when your warm fingers press delicately on his asshole. Goosebumps dot his skin. The muscles of his back flex as he pushes his ass backwards, grinding into your fingers impatiently.

"Kook," you warn though your voice is gentle. "Be patient."

"C-Can't… need it," he moans. "Need it so bad."

You click your tongue in disapproval, but obliged his request, plunging your digits in knuckle-deep. Jungkook's arms burn from holding himself up, trying not to crash onto the floor as you begin to thrust, gaining speed as his moans increase in pitch and volume.

"Fuck, please! More!" he grunts, sweat flooding the fabric of his blindfold. "Don't stop, shit—"

Jungkook almost bites his tongue when your empty hand wraps around his cock, working in tandem with the fingers in his ass. His vision is spotty, your name barely coming out in full syllables as his tongue magically turns into lead.

"P-Please…" he begs, though he isn't sure what for, brain too mushy to parse through words to form coherent sentences. Jungkook's muscles groan in protest and with every stroke of your hand, he's quick to approach his release, arms finally succumbing to exhaustion as he crashes on the floor.

"Fuuuck, I'm cumming-"

"Cum for me, baby," you encourage. "Make an absolute fucking mess for me."

Jungkook groans loudly into the carpet as the orgasm threatens to tear him in half, muscles locking tightly as the waves continue to collide into him as his cock paints the floor and your hand white. Gasping for air, he's scarcely aware of your fingers exiting him; at the sound of footsteps fading and water running, before he feels a cool, damp cloth on his skin.

His head is lifted to your lap, a quiet laughter filling his ears as you take off the blindfold. The room is dim and he's barely able to see your face, but he smiles anyway, dimples on his cheeks as he nuzzles close.

"Kiss," he whispers.

You find his lips immediately.

"More."

Chuckling, you kiss him as many times as he wants as your warm hand travels to rub soothing circles all over his body.

"Let's get you on the bed, hm?"

With effort, you help him lie on the soft mattress and hand him a glass of water to quench the thirst. "Good boy, Kook," you praise, settling in beside him to run your fingers through his hair. "Did it feel good?"

"Mmh," he hums, nodding approvingly as his mind stalls with exhaustion before he drifts into sleep.

It's been a long fucking week for Jungkook, but he knows that if he pleads with you hard enough, all the hardships he's endured will disappear with a flick of your hand.

all works are © bangtanhome

taglist: @missgeniality (loaf u!)

243 notes · View notes

novoaa1writes · 10 months

Text

come, sit, stay

image source

pairing(s): softdark!natasha romanoff x gnc!reader

summary:

You have to resist the urge to shrink away when she lowers herself to a crouch. All at once, she’s close, too close, close enough that you could reach through the bars and touch her if you wanted.

“Look at me, pup.”

You do. The expression on her face is neither malicious nor lustful; rather, devoid of emotionality. Utterly unreadable.

No matter. Lost though you may be, you harbor no illusions about the vulnerability of your current state. She holds your leash; she has since she caught you. You know it, and she does, too.

Or: You haven't the faintest clue what it's like to have an owner—much less someone like her.

contains: non-con dynamics, forced pet play, dehumanization

[cross-posted on ao3]

word count: ~1,400

rating: mature

warnings: non-con dynamics, forced pet play, dehumanization, referenced non-con body modification, referenced non-con medical experimentation/surgery, minor blood, power imbalance, light bondage (cage)

notes: continuation of/companion to a recent work! (link below) i’ve decided to rename the first work and file this under the series name “build-a-pet” ‘cause i mean. that’s kinda what’s happening here and all, ya dig

also, i’m not doing tag lists anymore (with the exception of the ongoing “find you again” series), because i suck at them. sorryyy

see end notes for translation of russian terms!

— —

previous part: day 0

— —

You awake to aching limbs, a dry throat, and curious smells.

Consciousness comes gradually. A rare mercy, but the pounding in your skull tells you you’ve already slept far too long to bask in it.

Prying open one eyelid, then two, you scan your surroundings with bleary eyes. You’re curled on your side, bare-ass naked, both knees folded to your chest inside… a rectangular cage. A quick glance finds its dimensions larger than you’re used to, with ample room to sit up and crawl on all fours. The bars are thinner, too, but you’ve no doubt they’re quite secure; and the door…

The door. Panic grips you.

It’s open. No lock in sight.

What kind of cage doesn’t lock?

Where the hell are you?

You’re quick to rise to all fours as your search turns frantic, adrenaline and fear eclipsing all tearing aches from inactivity and injury until it’s all you can do to keep from vibrating with the force of it. Your heartbeat thuds double-time in your chest, wide-eyed gaze darting this way and that.

You don’t see much—tall ceilings, a well-lit fireplace, twin lounge chairs complete with matching ottomans—before a pair of startling green eyes meet your own, effectively nailing you to the spot.

Natasha leans casually against the nearby wall wearing a lazy smirk that broadens when your gaze catches hers. She hasn’t changed since last you saw her; donning black jeans, a wife beater, and a well-worn leather jacket. Scarlet-red hair is pulled back and woven into twin braids that tickle her shoulders. Her face is devoid of makeup, though it does nothing to dull her beauty.

She could have been there for hours or minutes; you’ve no way of telling.

As you watch, she cocks a single, well-manicured brow.

At that, you realize you’re staring. Cheeks burning, you hasten to lower your gaze to the floor.

“Finally awake, then,” she rumbles in a low, contralto drawl. It’s not a question. “How’d you sleep?”

Her voice comes from much closer, this time, causing you to flinch like you’ve been struck.

If you strain your downcast gaze, you can just glimpse the scuffed toes of her boots in your periphery. Christ. You hadn’t even heard her move.

“Okay, thank you,” you murmur politely. The words feel like gravel in your throat.

Whatever Stark did to you, it’s made speaking a nuisance. It scrapes your throat, burns your lungs. It feels unnatural, period. Who wants a talking pet, anyhow?

You have to resist the urge to shrink away when she lowers herself to a crouch. All at once, she’s close, too close, close enough that you could reach through the bars and touch her if you wanted.

“Look at me, pup.”

You do. The expression on her face is neither malicious nor lustful; rather, devoid of emotionality. Utterly unreadable.

No matter.

Lost though you may be, you harbor no illusions about the vulnerability of your current state. She holds your leash; she has since she caught you. You know it, and she does, too.

“Does it hurt to talk?”

Your cheeks burn. Biting your lip hard, you nod.

Natasha nods, as though this answer pleases her. “Are you in any pain?”

That gives you pause. Of course you’re in pain. Is this a trick?

The tick in her jaw suggests she’s displeased by your reticence. Slowly, carefully, you chance another nod.

“Can you crawl?”

You almost huff, but think better of it at the last second. You nod once more.

Her lips twitch. With amusement or satisfaction, you can’t tell. “Молодец,” she murmurs, rising to her feet and turning on her heel. She does not spare a backwards glance as she strides over to the crackling fireplace, then settles into a cross-legged position in the center of the rug, her back to you. “Ко мне,” she calls, little more than an afterthought.

Regardless, the effect is the same.

You shoot up on all fours with a speed that makes you wince, biting your lip hard to smother the pained whimper that follows. It’s a reflex, a mistake. You should know better, but realization doesn’t hit until it’s too late, until small fangs have broken skin, and it’s all you can do to bite back a hiss. You don’t need a mirror to know you’re bleeding.

Your lapse costs you. You spring forth perhaps a bit too hastily, trading the padded floor of the crate for gleaming marble. Pain traverses your veins like wildfire.

Your knees smart as you clamber over, fingertips curled beneath knuckles in that paw-esque fashion that now comes as naturally to you as breathing. Stark and his stupid, infernal experiments.

Blood, warm and wet, wells up along your lower lip. Reflexively, your tongue flicks out to lap it up. The metallic taste is a comfort, however fleeting.

You couldn’t sneak up on her if you tried, but you don’t dare expect that to mean she’d permit being approached from behind. Circling ‘round, you give her a wide berth. The heat of the fire sears your skin, yet the carpet lining proves a welcome comfort. As you reach Natasha, the acuity of sensation fades and you slow to a wary crawl, uncertainty thumping in your chest.

You imagine her gaze boring into you—through you. Blood stains your lips anew, its coppery scent tickling your nostrils.

“Ближе,” she murmurs. You don’t understand this one, and she must know it, for she’s quick to translate: “Closer.”

Dutifully, you shuffle forth until your knuckles graze her folded legs.

“Сидеть.”

This one, evidently, you know.

You fall back on your heels at once, muscles deflating in a dizzying rush. Gnarled hands pull themselves into your lap, and your chin dips lower toward your chest—a show of deference.

When her fingers brush your jaw, you don’t dare flinch back. You hold still, perfectly still as they travel down and forth, coming to rest beneath your chin. When they urge you up, you go without protest, tilting your jaw up until you have to strain to keep your own kneecaps in sight. At this angle, you could look her in the eye if you dared.

You’re not that dumb.

“Глаза,” she murmurs. “Eyes.”

You oblige.

Her gaze burns where it meets yours.

You clench your jaw and bear it.

It’s a relief when it flickers down to your lips… and stays there.

“You’re bleeding,” she observes, sounding perhaps awed, or engrossed, or something else entirely. Her eyes are darker now, no longer such a lurid jade-green hue. A trick of the light, perhaps?

You swallow.

Gently, deliberately, she swipes at pooling copper with the pad of her thumb.

The slight touch sends a shudder down your spine, but you pay it little mind. Seconds later, the warmth of her touch leaves your chin; you hardly notice that, either.

You’re possessed, spellbound as she brings her thumb to parted lips, engulfs the tip and then some—suckles at the taste of you with slightly hollowed-out cheeks and a groan that cleaves to the marrow of your bones.

Your thighs tremble, making you clench in an effort to hold still.

She eyes you with interest when she’s finished, thumb pressed idly against pouted lips. “Sweet,” she hums.

Were your complexion about three shades lighter, you’d be blushing pink to the roots of your hair. As it is, you can’t help wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

Her next command takes you by surprise. “Лежать.” Lie down.

You hate the disappointment that blooms in your chest even as your body does not hesitate to follow. You’re in position before you understand what’s happened, all curled up and ball-shaped on the rug like a housecat settling in for an afternoon nap.

It’s as though a switch has been flipped.

Fatigue follows fast on its heels, dousing you like a tidal wave. Is it conditioning, or is it you?

Is there a difference?

It’s humiliating. It’s wonderful. Your limbs assume the position like they’re made for it. You suppose, now, they kind of are.

The crackling fire is warm along your back. You almost preen when a familiar touch parts bedraggled strands of hair, blunt nails grazing along your scalp in a soothing rhythm. The rumbling purr that follows is no surprise. Sleep tugs at you, and you are tired of fighting it. You’re tired, period.

“Sleep, котёнок. I’m here.”

It’s the last thing you hear before unconsciousness swallows you whole.

— —

end notes: right so.... me when there’s.... right. yes. you all understand, i’m sure... .....

no idea if i wanna continue this (like ideally, yes, but as always, i’m pressed for time, so this is what i’ve got right now), but uhhhh yeah. lemme know what you think?

translation for russian terms (stresses marked in bold):

молодец | molodyets | excellent, good

ко мне | ko mnye | “come” (to me)

ближе | blizhe | comparative degree of близко (adverb) and близкий (adjective) meaning “closer”

сидеть | sidyet’ | infinitive form of the verb “to sit.” used when telling a pet (a dog, specifically) to sit

глаза | glaza | eyes (nominative plural form)

лежать | lyezhat’ | infinitive form of the verb “to lie (down).” used when telling a pet (read: dog) to lie down

котёнок | kotyonok | kitten

— —

link to masterlist

#softdark!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x gnc!reader #stuff i wrote #dark!natasha romanoff #softdark!natasha romanoff

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viewwrangler · 7 years

Text

Trans character in upcoming comic

X-Men Writer's New Comic Stars a 250 Pound Black Trans Woman (Who's Also a Former NFL Player)

"Passing is for football." By Michael Rulli Thu, 2017-02-02 17:05

Queer characters have been popping up left and right in the world of comics. Following Marvel's queer latina superhero, X-Men writer Scott Lobdell is giving us all the life with his new protagonist. Lobdell's latest, “No World,” for Aspen Comics, will star a 250 pound black trans woman, who's also a former NFL player.

Though she doesn’t have a name just yet, the character does have cover art and a potential catchphrase—"Passing is for football," a play on the term, "passing," which generally refers to a trans person's ability to pass as cisgender in everyday society.

Lobdell tweeted, “She’s here. She’s Trans. She’s gonna kick evil’s ass!”

Former NFL. 6'5 250lbs. She's here. She's trans. She's gonna kick evil's ass! #gnc #nonbinary #fierceAF pic.twitter.com/gqLIro4ZAW— Scott Lobdell (@ScottyLobdell) January 31, 2017

[...]

It’s worth noting that if you follow the Twitter link to see how people are reacting ... People are noting that they did not like Lobdell’s handling of his previous trans character. In an interview with ComicMix, Lobdell notes that he’s “ comfortable depending on my close friends for their personal feelings on the matter.” Which ... on the one hand, is entirely understandable. And on the other, looks like he’s girding his loins for the ugly trench warfare to come.

He also mentions that it’s a team book, and the team is ... surprising. I’ve read the titles with those other characters (was rather fond of Dellec), and it seems like a wildly improbable team -- more so than usual in superhero comics, I mean.

When his previous trans character, Suzie Su, is brought up and the interviewer tries to give him “ the opportunity to talk about that character and address people’s caution”, he effectively ... doesn’t. He notes that nobody would have known she was trans if he hadn’t mentioned it elsewhere, and then he says: “ When I say #includeeveryone, I mean that all kinds of people should be represented in all kinds of roles in comics. Heroes, villains, sidekicks, roommates. [...] For trans people that get excited about seeing trans roommates represented there is Alysia Yeoh. For trans people who get excited about seeing trans international crime lord who can go toe to toe with Red Hood and don’t. ever. stop. there is Suzie Su.”

That said, near the end of the article, Lobdell also says

No two trans women I know are very much alike in terms of their experiences, their sense of humor, the people they date, the decisions they’ve made about their transitions, their relationships with their families, their decisions to self-identity or let their sexuality speak for itself and on and on.

Anyone who expects Aloysius Thicke to conform to your specific version of a trans woman or to represent your personal feelings about how a trans woman should act or feel should probably not read this series.

Which is fair, frankly.

It will be interesting to see how New World turns out. Regardless, Lobdell seems to be the sort of person who doesn’t care much what people think of him. Which is probably a good thing, because he’s setting himself up to get slagged off by everyone. I do hope it’s worth it -- both for him, and for myself as a reader.

#media relations #comics

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vigrxwarning · 4 years

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uhnomahlee · 2 years

Text

putting your body in harm’s way for them // aot headcanon

aot x black plus-size gnc reader

{mdni/f}

a/n: levi is trans. again cannot process the (y/n) format so i choose names to input. helps so much more :3 you can see the scenarios get shorter as i realize these aren’t full fics and i need to calm tf down. I would like to think this is proofread🧌,,,enjoy!

hange

it was the night the return of an expedition, the tavern livened with slurred singing and the smell of spilled alcohol

“another round for all my comrades and i!” hange announced to the bartender, raising their half-empty mug

the soldiers cheered on their commander, swaying along to the music playing

kayin helped hange sit down, taking a gulp of their own drink when they were sure hange was stable on the bench

“i don’t think they should be drinking anymore,” levi grumbled, narrowing their eyes at a couple of people who bumped into their back

wrapping their arm around hange’s torso, kayin gave a lopsided smile. “i’m gonna take care of them levi, don’t worry”

“you don’t need that shit either, actually,” was levi’s rebuttal. “that table over there is starting to look like they want to beat all our asses”

“the who?” hange turned around and raised a fist and shook it. “say it to my fa-”

without breaking eye contact with levi, kayin put a hand over hange’s mouth “the war’s over. i will tell them personally to unclench their assholes”

“i think it’s ‘cuz they aren’t used to seeing people like us together. what did you call it again?”

“gay”

“‘cuz we’re gay? yeah each and every one of us” hange slurred, raising a mug and nearly spilling its contents

“well-“ levi began.

hange narrowed their eye at them. “each and every one”

levi pinched the bridge of their nose. “and you’re talking entirely too loud. good lord”

after the next round of drinks were delivered to the table, the rambunctious couple took their place on the clear space in the middle of the bar boots stomping down on the wood as their bodies waltzed across the floor

the team harmonized a cheer, gleeful in their claps and single-syllable chants

the couple held their mugs in their right hands, left arms circling each other’s waists, holding on tight

laughter arose between the two when some of the beer spilled during their erratic movements

“if you’re not careful you’re going to drop that mug all over those weirdos glaring at us,” kayin warned hange, lips close to their ear

“if fate prefers it, then i shall let that happen,” hange responded, devilish

kayin gave a pointed look. “no. not tonight. we are not getting into anything”

“we never get into anything,” hange muttered, “they get into it with us! duh!”

kayin chuckled, shaking their head. “just finish your drink. i’m about to spin you”

hange smiled and then chugged down their drink, setting the cup down on a random table beside them

a hand grabbed hange’s before they could fully let go of the mug

“get your shit off of our table-”

kayin pried a single finger from the grip, not hesitating to break it

immediately the man’s hold loosened, scream of agony falling from his lips

“don’t ever think you can touch them like that,” kayin hissed, eyes darkening. they stepped in front of hange

multiple individuals rose from the table, coming forward

“one more step and i will fight until your blood vessels give out. all of you.”

there was a reason the couple had gotten into multiple fights and always came out unscathed

one thing about kayin—don’t put a finger on their partner

the group stepped back. they couldn’t deny they hadn’t heard about kayin’s encounters from town gossip

“before we get back to our wonderful night. does anyone have anything else they want to say?” kayin finished off their drink.

the men diverted their gaze

setting the mug gently on the table, kayin’s demeanor brightened, making the group flinch. “good!”

mikasa

atieno and mikasa were on their evening walk, hand intertwined with each other’s as they ambled down the trail

“…way better eyesight than you,” atieno commented, a teasing tone shadowing their voice

mikasa laughed. “when we visited that country last month you could not drive the rented car for the life of you.”

atieno furrowed their bushy brows, an incredulous look etched into their face. “that’s experience? take a look at the place where we grew up. technological advances mimicking those machines are just starting to crawl. you’re lucky we didn’t crash.”

“lucky…hmm” mikasa pondered, pursing their lips.

“would you have taken the wheel?” atieno’s opposite hand came to their right ear as they leaned towards their partner

mikasa emitted a ‘hmph’, piping down

“and hush falls over the crowd.” atieno straightened their towering stature, pleased at the lack of rebuttal. “we got from point a to point b unscathed and you dare question my abilities.” they shook their head in dismay, looking around the corner before leading mikasa into another path towards their apartment

“sasha and their partner had complaints too!”

atieno downturned their lips. “i didn’t hear anything about it.”

“because you turn into a big baby. like right now.” mikasa poked atieno’s cheek, feigning a pout

rebuttal locked and loaded, atieno put it on pause to halt their movements, making mikasa pull their hand away from their cheek

then they heard the scuffling from both alleys

mikasa got in a position ready to fight but atieno spoke

“no”

mikasa contorted their face, mildly offended. “who are you talking to?”

atieno continued walking until the two individuals rose from the darkness, guns aimed at the couple

“give us your jewelry and money, now”

mikasa’s hand tightened around atieno’s, signaling for them not to try anything

there had been attempts at robbing the couple before but those instances were hand to hand scenarios

guns weren’t exactly new but mikasa didn’t expect to see two pointing their way by the end of date night

the occasion being one of the thieves first encounters, a trembling finger over the trigger prematurely fired a bullet in mikasa’s direction

mikasa felt theirself stumble back slightly, atieno’s body coming into the view before they could process how to defend them

atieno raised a hand, maneuvering an object in their hand

the bullet crashed against a metal fan, falling to the cobble sidewalk

folding it swiftly, atieno launched theirself at the first attacker, peripheral waiting for any movement from the other robber

fear racking their body, the same person shot again

atieno unfolded the fan in front of their face blocking the bullet before swiping the device at the gun, its sharp blade cutting through the barrel of the weapon

the man’s face contorted in horror before atieno sent him down the sidewalk with a kick to the chest

“wait!” the other robber surrendered, arms up

atieno froze, the blade of their fan near the attacker’s wrist

they dropped the gun, atieno snatching the weapon mid-fall and tucking it away

hands rid of the fans, atieno formed a fist, connecting it with the person’s jaw, knocking them unconscious

atieno turned back to mikasa, smoothing out their coat as they returned to their partner

“marry me?” mikasa saw atieno with a ethereal glow around their body as the heat flourished in their lower abdomen.

“why do you say that after you see me beat someone’s ass?”

“...why not?”

sasha

“this is way different than my hometown, kagiso.” sasha followed close behind, astonished at the thickness of vegetation in this area of the island

kagiso steered the horse along an unnoticeable trail, familiarity acting as their guide. “i guess it just reminded me of here then.” they brought their horse to a stop, sasha doing the same

“we’re on foot from here”

kagiso hurried off their horse to help sasha down from theirs

face reddening, sasha put their hands over kagiso’s while they lifted them and then set sasha on the ground

“i can definitely get off a horse by myself,” sasha chided, knowing deep down they loved being carried by them

“hush. i know you like being carried”

visiting kagiso’s hometown, they offered to show sasha the terrain on a small hike

they traveled outside the clan’s barricade deep into the forest, where kagiso insisted the landscape was challenging enough for the hike

“just stay close. can’t tell you how many times my friends and i used to have our asses handed to us by this shit,” kagiso said, not even looking where they were going as they went along an unmarked oath

sasha watched with an incredulous look on their face. “is this not regular dirt? what am i missing?”

“oh it’s regular. this particular part of the island just likes to have random dips and cracks that won’t hesitate to tear a ligament, easily.”

“ah, great.” sasha hesitated to ask about the evolution of animals

half an hour in the trek, sasha had toughed out the obstacles, grunting as they climbed up a rocky incline

“you good?” kagiso called out from behind sasha, guarding any potential falls that could occur

“you lookin at my ass?”

“always.”

sasha finished their climb, letting out a breath. turning around, they faced kagiso and raised their arms in victory

“you might not want to-”

sasha began hopping up and down in glee, breathing heavily. “you owe me a fuckload of-”

their body fell backwards, arms frantically reaching out for something to magically appear and save them from the fall off the ledge

kagiso’s hands appeared, pulling sasha up so hard they stumbled backwards back down the hill

sasha prepared theirself for the shocks of pain but as their bodies suddenly came to a stop, they eyes shot open to look at their partner

“oh lord, those rocks really fucked me over”

kagiso’s bloodied face came into view, kickstarting sasha’s heartbeat

sasha tackled kagiso, enveloping them into a hug until they groaned in pain

“you can thank me all you want after we stop the bleedin’” they gave a dazed crooked smile, bloodied teeth on display

“oh my-yeah, let’s go.”

ymir

hand gripping their titan’s hair, itai looked behind them at the abnormal hopping from tree to tree speeding after them

“what the fuck is up with it?” itai hissed

ymir grunted in a questioning tone, swinging from a branch and flying through the air, planting their feet on another before speeding through foliage to evade the abnormal

the two soldiers had gotten separated from the rest of the squad, the accumulation of titans on the team creating panic and sending them off in different directions

ymir was already worried with itai’s ‘i will never die’ attitude during training, staying close to them since the beginning of the expedition, knowing a situation just like this would arise

“it’s fast. we’re gonna need to kill it soon,” itai replied. “i’ll look for an opening”

ymir wished that they could speak, because if they could, they would have denied the motion immediately and cussed itai out

instead they let out a growl, moving quicker through the trees

“the minute we stop for any reason that fucker is gonna be launching itself at us. and knowing you i would rather not be caught between that fight nor have you be at risk of getting injured so damn far in the forest.” they adjusted their hold on ymir’s hair. “i am not carrying your ass.”

itai squinted their eyes at the path in front of them, planning a strategy

“okay…” they blew out a breath, rolling back their shoulders. “don’t be mad at me.”

itai directed their hooks downward, pulling theirself towards the forest floor, watching the abnormal redirect their movement towards them

just before they hit the ground itai launched the hooks into the trunk of a tree, missing the mouth of the titan chomping down

using the moment of instability, itai sunk the device in the titan’s flesh, bringing theirself directly towards the creature

itai sliced through the titan’s right limbs, dodging its last attempt to attack, running up onto its body and dismantling its nape

ymir landed in front of itai, making their way toward them full speed

“oh fuck”

itai was snatched up and taken back into the trees

“i said don’t be mad! whoa!” itai tried to balance theirself as they were set on a branch. “instead of stopping to cuss me out, we should be trying to rendezvous with the team”

ymir perched their titan on the surface, then rose from the steaming flesh of the nape

“you fucking idiot.” their jaw was clenched, brows knitted together. “i swear when we get back-”

“i’ll get a kiss?” itai proposed with a timid smile

ymir narrowed their eyes. “not before i choke you out”

“dunno. sounds like a win-win to me”

levi

“i’m thinking of going camping outside the perimeter soon,” desta murmured, flipping through their journal as their partner laid their head in their lap

levi’s eye opened immediately, brow quirking

desta moved their journal, the burning gaze through the back catching their attention. “yes?”

“outside the perimeter? des, there are plenty of closer, safer locations to camp at,” levi proposed

desta sighed already prepared for their argument.

the first thing levi would always do when desta announced a lone adventure into the wild was to first, offer a location they could definitely follow them too and if that “failed”…

“we could also just…” the second option was to insert theirself, completely subtle or not

“levi, you don’t have to pop a vessel worrying about me. that’s my home. the environment i was born into. my first fights were with wild animals”

“i don’t give a fuck if they had raised you,” levi spoke back. “it’s entirely too dangerous”

“if i just let you come can we not have this conversation?” desta gave in.

levi frowned. “let me? there would be no trip without me.”

“please levi, i’ve snuck so many trips under your nose,” desta scoffed, then cleared their throat as their skin warmed.

“you what?”

“i wha-? you know what? i have been holding my pee in for so long. lemme go take care of that.”

the night of the trip desta couldn’t contain their excitement to travel outside the perimeter

this opposed levi’s rigidness, gaze focused on their partner as they set up the contraption in the trees, hand gripping straps of desta’s climbing gear

“don’t look at me like that. this is much safer than the ground.” desta grunted, as they tightened the rope around the trunk of a tree, sweat dripping down their face and body

“who the fuck camps in trees?” levi mumbled.

“when the hunters from our clan went out for hunts, this is how they slept.”

“i know. that question didn’t need an actual answer”

“i know. i just like getting on your nerves.” desta stuck their tongue out and then attempted to jump into the safety net set up

“oop” desta hung in levi’s grip, their gaze dark

“don’t ever try that again.”

the ladder levi had set up to reach the tent was right there

when the couple entered the tent, desta tossed aside their clothes, letting the breeze caress their dark brown skin

levi stared without a peep, a blush creeping across their cheeks

“the air is so good up here” desta clapped their hands, getting on their hands and knees beside levi

“you still have your clothes on?”

“i think i’d prefer it.”

in the middle of the night, desta felt the warmth emanating from their partner disappear pulling them from their own slumber in an instant

“levi?” desta rubbed their eyes, squinting at levi’s outline at the entryway of the tent

they looked back at desta, hearing their name and that's when they saw the look in levi’s eye

“wait, levi-”

levi dashed out of the tent, running down the ladder

desta wouldn’t dare let theirself be with levi if they couldn’t handle their partner’s episodes

they were on levi’s heel, running after them with their body in the nude. they hissed at the wood digging into their feet and small splinter, trying to ignore the pain as they reached out to grab levi before they could take one bad step

however, the step was indeed taken

levi’s foot slipped off the side of the branch, the left side of their body hitting the bark, bringing them to their senses

grunting, desta caught levi’s hand, gaze focused on the top of their head and not the forest floor so far from where levi was hanging from. they pulled them up into the branch, panting heavily

“…i should start training with no clothes on.”

“des-”

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xenomoon · 10 months

Text

adrian chase/vigilante headcanons

forgot how much of a bbg he is ugh

black plus-size gnc reader

includes sfw and nsfw situations

listens to music inside his helmet

loves to collect those aprons with bodies printed on the front—any type of body at that

neurodivergent !

rambles a whole lot about random shit and redirects the conversation at least ten times before getting back to the main topic

he’s so sassy like you really can’t be going back and forth with him and expect to have the last word

sandals w no socks + flexes his toes a lot (stimming)

so papa-coded

mask on/off sfw = heavy eye contact

if he’s flustered with his mask on/off he’s gonna look everywhere but at you and will be sneaking glances

^actually it depends. he can be very heavy eye contact being flustered tew hmmm.

he’s so feral and unhinged

likes to bite you

is a jokester mostly but can turn it off in an instant once you give him a certain look

giggles a lot

touch starved lord. when’s the last time he got a hug

^gives long tight hugs + buries his face in your neck

likes to touch but the first time y’all went out his hands only hovered near your body, his demeanor hesitant

very clingy—both as a companion and as a lil boo ting

likes pda when it’s initiated by you

a brat. kinda hard to tame lmaooo he’s a good tease.

^starts off talkative then turns into a mess of whimpers and incoherent words.

begs easily. like you really don’t gotta do much intimidation once his brat battery runs out

sleeps with his mouth open

actually purrs when y’all cuddle

good big spoon and little spoon

checks on you a lot when y’all decide to sleep separately

is a really good cook—watches the cooks at the diner he works at a lot

loves to feed you + watch you eat

easily flustered by ordinary things you do

definitely gets turned on by your bouts of aggression and moments when you take control (outside of intimate settings)

so when y’all are on missions, his adrenaline gets paired with arousal

and after he’s v unhinged have mercy

gives off stalker

that's bc he is! and he doesn't deny it when caught

ending it here but more parts are to come :3

#adrian chase #vigilante #adrian chase headcanons #black reader #fat reader #gnc reader #x black plus size reader #abinary reader #vigilante headcanons #peacemaker headcanons #adrian chase x black gnc reader #sub!vigilante #sub!adrian chase #i wrote stuff

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uhnomahlee · 2 years

Text

what happens when their partner/interest tells them to close their eyes pt. 1 // aot & fire force headcanon

pairings: aot x black plus-size gnc reader (ocs) & fire force x black plus-size gnc reader (ocs)

{mdni/f}

a/n: rushed dis out to feed yawl🤞🏿🐆benimaru, mikasa, levi, sasha coming sewn,,,enjoy🫡

hange

“okay!” they did as they were told, hands patting their lap as they waited for whatever it was itoro was preparing

they sniffed the air, trying to get a hint of the surprise—food perhaps? itaro had been on a baking high for the last week and a half, welcoming hange from work with the sweet scent of their delicacies

“what is it?” hange questioned with an innocent lilt, impatience slipping through. “i like the food you’ve been making! i like the weight i’ve been putting on!“ they chirped, searching for the presence of their lover

“if i could have just told you what it was, would there have been a reason to tell you to close your eyes and wait?” itoro’s sudden change in tone made hange bite their tongue, posture straightening

skin warming, hange squirmed around on the couch, fingers twiddling. “i…sorry.”

“it’s okay, i know you’re only curious.” itaro moved closer, gaze darting from the items in their hands to their partner

hange whipped their heads towards the direction they heard itaro approaching, heart banging against their chest as they awaited the next command

“go ahead and open your eyes, baby,” itoro spoke in a softer voice

hange raced to look at itoro, their stare dropping to the leather straps they were gripping

“i’ve just been thinking about how the version for your uniforms looked on you…” itaro felt their skin warm, fingers stroking the material. “so i made some new ones for us to use…if you want.”

“i do!” hange covered their mouth and chuckled. “sorry. I would like to.” they nudged their glasses, nearly about to jump from their seat. “so, do you want my clothes off now or…”

itaro held back a laugh. “you look like you’re about to attack me.”

“it’s just that our work has kept us away from each other for a while so i’m all revved up,” they responded. “so…we doing this right here or the bedroom?”

an idea popped into itoro’s head, making their lower abdomen churn

“take your pick.” a smile crept onto their lips

dazed by unbound horniness, hange leapt up and took off towards the bedroom, a trail of clothes left in their wake

hibana

“you’re not gonna bamboozle me and leave me sitting here alone again, are you?” hibana side-eyed ime, then looked down, measuring the distance that was between them since sitting down on the freshly cut grass

hibana just wanted a hint of affection from the newcomer and will strive until succession—no matter the embarrassment.

at least hibana could heal a bit with a dash of hangout time they were permitted before either were pulled away for a situation

she needs to stand up fr,,,but like for ime…????? we: 🛐🛐🛐. don’t ask

feigning a yawn, hibana stretched their arms upwards then out, letting them drop closer to ime, granting them a chance to scoot theirself closer

“what are you doing?” ime’s eyes were resting behind their dark glasses, body hunched over their bent knees and unmoving

hibana pursed their lips, freezing their movement. “we’re just sitting so far from each-”

“any closer and you’d be breathing on my shoulder. are you gonna close your eyes or keep that mouth running?”

“well if you’re going to just be rude and walk away, no.” hibana crossed their arms

“i won’t,” voice monotone, ime responded

hibana immediately shut their eyes, perking up at all the possible scenarios that could ensue

they’re too shy to do it with my eyes open? i didn’t know they were so timid. i was doubting myself. i am able to have that effect on them! i need to be more confident! hmph!

finding herself leaning into ime, hibana’s heart thumped as she fully immersed herself into the fantasy

“alright, open your eyes.” ime finally looked away from hibana, hiding their downturned smile while they scooted away

hibana’s lips formed a small pout. “what? are you sure?” they opened one eye, peeking at ime. “uh-you moved further away! you were going to leave me, i knew it.”

ime turned their face away from the warmth of the setting sun, adjusting their glasses with a quick nudge from their knuckle. “i wanted to know how much peaceful it would be if you were asleep instead of awake.”

*getting time to lewk at this lil cutie without them “ruining” the moment

“it’s true. i have a gorgeous resting face-”

“because you talk entirely too much when you’re conscious.”

hibana’s brows furrowed. “…were you imagining me asleep or dead?”

“don’t worry about it.”

tucking their hair behind their ear, hibana reimagined the scenario. “you were…thinking about me?”

“hibana…”

ymir

“no. why?” ymir quirked a brow, knowing they could’ve easily succumbed to the enthusiastic request

xasan rolled their eyes. “so i can smack you, obviously. just close ‘em!”

“…definitely not.”

employing their puppy eyes, xasan’s gaze feigned sorrow.

ymir fought the urge to look at their partner directly, holding their refreshment while looking in another direction

sighing ymir murmured, “i hate when you do that.”

xasan watched ymir close their eyes, sticking their tongue out in triumph while initiating a small dance in their seat

“keep doing that and watch.”

xasan pursed their lips and stopped moving, narrowing their eyes.

“or what?” they mouthed, one hundred percent sure ymir was not able to see

“you know my eyes are closed but assuming you talk back like you always love to do, i can stop playing your little game very quick.”

xasan’s grip tightened on the small package in their cardigan pocket, harboring their reaction to the tone of ymir’s threat

regathering their senses, they slipped the object out of their pocket, reaching across the table to set it in front of their partner

hearing the rustling from xasan’s movement, ymir’s impatience nearly triumphed in the battle to keep their vision blocked

“okay, you can open them now,” xasan chirped, fingers intertwining as their nerves began to set in

proceeding with their nonchalant act, ymir opened one eye, gaze darting to the gift on the table before landing on xasan

panic arose when ymir thought an anniversary or birthday had passed—but that couldn’t be true, they were usually the one to remind xasan of events they had forgotten

ymir didn’t do well with being given gifts out of nowhere—they mostly thrived on reciprocation in most aspects of their life

frozen, ymir responded, “i…didn’t get you anything.”

“that’s okay.” xasan was bright with anticipation, “look what’s inside,” they urged

“what’s inside?”

“ymir, just open it and you’ll see.”

“what kind of gift is it though,” they continued to probe, anxious

“baby…”

chest tightening, ymir put down their cup down, slender fingers skimming the wrapping paper. sitting up in the chair, they took the small package and ripped into it

ymir’s brows furrowed, jaw set as they cleared their throat. taking the small painted glass into their palms they let out a shuddery breath

xasan’s eyes widened, the unexpected reaction rendering them silent.

it was a small project only meant to mark the beginning of their art journey. at most they expected a small nod and compliment knowing a child could have done just the same, better even

but the tears?

now both of them crying

“it’s so pretty,” ymir sniffled, drying away their tears with the back of their hand. “look at our little hands holding each other. we’re just laying in a…in a field flowers.” they shook their head

“i’m glad you like it.” xasan caught their gaze and held it as a silence ensued in the presence of bountiful adoration

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