#America's Ass Getting a Piece

[lajhawkins]

Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog: America's Ass #002 { MCU }

Series: 100 Years of It's Complicated

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandoms:

Marvel Cinematic Universe

The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Relationship:

Steve Rogers/OC "Penny" Barnes

Characters:

Steve Roger

OC "Penny" Barnes

Summary: Steve takes Penny out for Christmas while Peggy is down and out with their son Steve. Having taken him up to her parents for Christmas while he has to stay behind because intelligence has received word Hydra Supersoldier Morning Glory is in the area, and he finds her alright, and ends up getting her pregnant as she hopes. 9 months later the baby is born and whisked away by Intelligence. Steve and Penny are separated for yet another time and he returns as always to his ever faithful Peggy. While his heart belongs to Penny Barnes.

No Beta As of Yet

Cross Posted to: Ao3

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

1939

It was Christmas Eve two years later. Peggy had taken little Steve up to her moms and he'd had to stay behind because once again the Morning Glory was in the area.

Penny was performing a Christmas show and he thought he'd pick her up and take her out of the city for a little sightseeing to make up for his mad dash out of the suite the last time.

Truth be told, he was head over heels for both Peggy and Penny. He'd been hoping the picture and note would be enough till he could be enough…

But, here he was at eleven o'clock waiting for that feisty woman to appear when at exactly eleven forty-five as promised the tall girl, face looked familiar but the hair was much shorter and poofy and well pink.

Penny had a white satin top hat pinned into it and she pulled out a fur stole and slid into the opposite side of the bench. She was wearing a blood red corset that barely covered her breasts.

Luckily, a white satin tails tux jacket covered those, a hint of peppermint glued to her nipples he figured he was imagining things and handed her a menu. "You know you could have changed… order our hotel suite is paid for the weekend."

"oh, okay. Thank you Steve. you know after you ditched…"

"I got called away I explained in the no…"

"I never read it…." she sighed, ordered the turkey dinner and a slice of pecan pie and a good old Coca-cola. the waitress nodded and walked off as she leaned across the table to touch his cheek and he smiled.

"I'm me Penny. I have clothes waiting for us at the cabin. its a view of the city and ocean. The weekend is for you to have what ever you want within reason. Without hurting yourself or me. Think you can handle that?"

Steve leaned back and watched her drinking his tea until he almost spit it across the table when he found a booted foot between his strong thighs and he swallowed unfastening the zipper and buckle pulling the stockinged foot out before pressing it into his right thigh and he shivered.

"Hello, Penny."

She just smiled at him as she let out a low sound as she slid it up higher until she had it rubbing at the apex of his thighs and he was straining in his trousers. She stroked him with her foot until he almost came and dinner came and she ate and he paid and they went out to his bike where he adjusted himself and they headed out of town.

They arrived and Penny gasped at the view. The cabin was small, but everything so far was perfect. He carried her sleeping form to a roaring fire, a semi private bedroom off the great room, the queen size bed was built over two rows of drawers and the bathroom was directly across. the bath was added on and huge. Penny found the lovely nightgown and she stood in the bath and took off the hat and wig she pulled out all the pins and her real tiny braids she normally saw on ethnic women in the phone pool. They looked good on her.

She smiled weakly. "I need help with the corset please." he nodded and came to stand behind her opening the corset, freeing her waist and chest. Her breasts spilling forward and he couldn't help but drop his head to kiss her shoulder and side of her neck, "just as beautiful as I remember."

"I'm just gonna go check the kitchen." he said backing up as she watched out, "Stay…"

He sat on the small dressing chair in the corner as she finished undressing and washing away the pancake performance makeup and then she pulled into the silk loose elastic lace collar top and elastic sleeves.

Penny walked toward Steve as she smiled as she reached to coax him to stand, "Captain sir you are in need of a change to bed clothes as well. Lets get you stropped."

She started popping buttons on his wool jacket and hung it up before she worked him out of his shirt and undershirt before he handed her a pillow and she dropped to her knees and popped his trouser buttons and opened his pants pulling them and his boxers then socks off before she wrapped her hand around his erection. "oh God, Jesus …,"

Penny helped him into his soft sleeping pants and pulled back the bedding as she slid in the blankets hiking the gown up and Steve sat down to talk with her as she patted the mattress, "Come on Steve, there's plenty of room."

"There's plenty of room. But if I get in that bed I may never get out of your arms and I love Peggy too and I swore before God to love her until death. Oh, please no don't I'll lay by you… okay. Just lay by you."

Penny sniffled and turned her back to him as he climbed into the bed with her, "It's a little chilly over here do you need another blanket?"

"No. I'm, okay." she mumbled to the wall. She sniffed a few times audibly so he knew she was either crying or trying to stop crying.

It was about three in the morning and he needed sleep. The whole goal of moving Penny out of the city was to try and catch the Winter Soldier without him being destroyed or maimed which was what her programming and underlying training was for.

He woke up at six to find her standing in just the cotton shift on the deck at sunrise, her cocoa cold and her lips blue staring at New York as though she knew her protocol had been broken. She knew Steve was there before he knew he put out his arm to touch her and she arm-barred him and dropped him through the railing of the cocoa. spilt out of the way silently. "How do you know?"

"Good Morning to you to Morning Glory."

"Captain American. And here I thought you were just another dancing monkey." she released the armbar and let him stand as he stepped into her bubble and she grabbed him by the neck and dropped to her back rolling them into the cabin until they landed with her on top of him and she couldn't help but the aggression had them both highly aroused. She reached for the boot Penny had been wearing last night and popped a pair of knives out of the thick heels and brought them to Cap's throat.

"Pants down monkey." Morning Glory commanded as the knife in her right hand drew blood and he winced as she smiled. "Come on…" she tapped his throat with the left knife. Steve did as she said and arched his hips and pulled his sleep pants down freeing himself.

"At least tell me they have you on an oral sterilization drug."

Morning Glory - not Penny - Morning Glory shook her head, "nope they want Penny to have a family." She mounted him and he couldn't help but moan her velvet was so tight and hot around him, "damn-it don't move or I'll cum jesus just let me get used to it."

Steve's hands went up to the tie at the front of her gown and he untied the lace bow, the material pulling free and loosening until the cotton slid down her creamy shoulders and pooled at her elbows exposing her snowy white skin, "jesus wept, your more beautiful in sunlight Morn-"

"-just call me Penny, she's the one you want like this." she stroked his blonde hair, turning a handful as he went to suckle on a dusty rose nipple. "Oh, Penny, my musical angel, sing for me." He. He held her close lifting her up enough he could begin to move in and out of her as she panted his name, her own hands finding purchase on his chest as she tried to balance. Meeting his every upward thrust with a downward of her own until the feeling in her belly grew so tight she bit him to keep from screaming and cried his name, feeling her insides warm as he dropped back on the floor.

"Buckys gonna kill me…"

Morning Glory smiled at him as she stayed atop him until he dropped out limp and she was sure and stuffed as she stole kisses, kisses Steve couldn't help but share as he finally got them up out of the floor carrying her to the bed.

"Since you are definately not Peggy and your not Penny's squirmy yet innocent mint there are so many things I'm doing too you!." Steve flipped her onto her belly and parted those well kept thighs and snatch. "Who keeps you so well trimmed you are always perfect dear." he told her not really asking her as he dipped a finger into her super wet slit and pulled it out and slowly worked it up her taut little ass.

She cried out at the intrusion it hurt at first but by the time he had two fingers up there curlingband stroking and sucking on her clit she was keening for him and Bucky as he nipped the firm globes of her arse as he pulled back.

"You think you can take three?" Steve asked as he slid his hand into his pants to stroke himself, " oh baby I'm so hard gonna fuck that tight ass," he promised her as he very carefulky slid a third finger into Penny's tight body and MG moaned and her hips rose to buck as she panted as he went all knuckles deep and his thumb hit her clit.

"yes! yes please! now! now?! oh fuck yes?!! she demanded as she pulled her knees together for friction and he slid up into bed after dropping his pants and lubing up then guided himself to her entrance, slowly he pushed himself in until she keened for him again and slammed back on him an he felt her cum around him as he stroked the small of her back before sliding back into her slick cunny to cum again. Cuming quickly before wiping up, pulling Penny's gown down and snuggling up to her till she woke without Morning Glory.

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

Penny woke several hours later her thighs sticky and she turned over. She'd gone to bed mad at Steve. Did he still get off on her?

She slid over to him and kissed his full lower lip, his mouth moved and he reached up brushing his face as she kissed him full on this time her soft non-timid, very aggressive kiss brought him awake enough he kissed her back his hand snaking into soft braids as she moaned into the kiss he tasted like wintergreen toothpaste like he'd been up and come back to bed and his lips parted aben she begged entrance she wanted to know more of this wintergreen Steve and he moaned into her kiss.

"...Peggy….the kids,,,,"

She giggled as she pulled up her skirt and slid down bis length slowly America's ass also had america's endowment and every two inches she had to stop herself to stretch until she wàs sitting amongst well maintained blonde curls and she felt him arch with excitement and she was excited and she pulled the gown off and tossed it aside as his hands cupped her tiny corset trained waist.

She started to move with his hands as she started to move he started to say encouraging things, "oh god baby ride my cock thats it! just like that!!"

Penny rode him; she was so close to one of those earth shattering orgasms only Steve could give her when heart break hit just as the damn was about to break, "oh Peggy so close…." She fought to get off of him and got dressed in the jeans he'd had had ordered for her and the thick oversized sweater she put on her thick leather boots and gloves and started tromping for the road.

"Fuck him." she threw a rock as she hit the main road and caught a ride with a morning milk truck heading into the Village to get a ride back to the city. Calling her manager, and pulling his army green knit cap down over her red hair sipping cocoa while she waited for Jack Crowe. She hoped she left him in pain. Buvky always said once a man started they had to finish or they'd be in pain for days.

Jason Crowe arrived an hour and a half later, mad about the costume but glad she was okay. Returning her to her cage for another stint as the Winter Soldier exited exodus and fled back to where his home was. Unaware his most prized possession was about to become an endangered nightingale.

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

Steve woke up to the door slamming with the worst case of blue balls. He did everything to relieve the pain. But had to give up and shower and change, returning to the village to call home base on Morning Glory. He shipped Bucky Penny's costume. More worried about his nuts right now than the next time he saw him and he turned and headed back toward Albany to be with Peggy and the kids for at least the next few days.

Once there Peggy was surprised and righted his uniform collar and kissed him, "Hey there Captain America, Glad you could make it." his kids glomped on him and the hugging began but he couldn't stop worrying about Penny. What…if?

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

Then eight months later he got the call, "Steve help we're pregnant and mom's man is taking Penny to the hospital to have the baby and wont let me co.e they said she can't keep it its dead! Steve help!"

Steve dropped the phone on his far Brooklyn office and headed for their park avenue mansion and followed the truck with Penny. Bucky was being held kicking and screaming. Two weeks later Peggt had a shaggy dark haired cornflower blue, blue eyed girl Penny was told she"d died in the womb and Steve followed the process as she was handed over to two soviet men and Winter Soldier and the three left and his heart bottomed out His daughter. HIS daughter…. He had to leave Penny and a week later he was back on the warpath and his plane vanished over the North Pole, Bucky Barnes Vanished, and so did one of the front line nightingales, 18 year old Penny Barnes.

[debtsunpaid]

gwendolyn: hrrr~ constantine: no! no — stop! do me! l-leave them out of it. clarice: you heard the man.

and WHO is doing it like clarice sackville, i ask you. WHO on planet earth is out there SERVING like this!!!

[kil9]

I wish when ppl talked about eating healthy they actually meant eating healthy, and not a roundabout way of saying "being skinny". what's considered "health food" is food that doesn't make you fat, no matter how harmful it actually is for human consumption. and what's considered "unhealthy" is what makes you fat, no matter how nourishing it is.

like. to eat healthy you have to eat.. enough. and this means also eating carbs and fats and sugars, sorry !!! this also means sometimes you will become fatter because this is what your body wants to do to store nutrients

like if a skinny person is eating handfuls of flax seeds (very toxic to humans and potentially lethal. ie not healthy) ppl will go yaay health food<3 skinny legend !!! but if I (fat) am eating a burger with cheese and tomato and lettuce and onion (has basically every food group inside, and protein, iron, calcium, vitamin c, etc. and will give me energy for a good portion of the day) ppl get disgusted because this is socially designated Fat Food :'(

like. get over it. in your perfect ideal future where everyone eats healthy, ppl will still be fat !!! get over it ! and people will also eat things that straight up ARE unhealthy because they want to ! and you still have to get over it :(

[fiendishartist2]

guys what if i want to make my own apollo justice game.

[hollowtones]

My partner and I started season 8 of "Columbo" the other night. For reference, this was the revival season after the series was off-air for around eleven years. It's interesting to see how much of this first episode feels new and different while still staying true to the show's formula. Peter Falk sounds older (and looks a little older, too). A lot of the cinematography (specifically the lighting) feels moodier, darker, in some ways the 70s run never touched on much. Lots of neon. A plot about the Cold War (and another plot about a con artist magician who changed their name and came to America after crimes in another country - this time he's also a psychic LOL). The style and length and pacing of the opening bit showing the crime & the motive.

There's a lot of little things, but the big thing for me is the music. Tonally feels very different from some of the earlier "Columbo" scores. I don't know if it was a case of "well this was the style in the 80s" or "the show staff wanted to do something different" or "different music guys" or something else. I'd have to look into it. Lots of droning, brooding synths mixed in with some jazzier stuff. It's really interesting how music & sound design can change the mood of a piece so drastically.

Very fun episode. It's interesting to see them try new things while also holding fast to what makes the show feel so strong. I know some of the later-run episodes get a little wild with the formula (sometimes in cool ways & sometimes in weird or awful ways) and I'm very excited to get to those. It's always fun to look at some years-long way too big thing and see how different times and different people shape it in different ways.

Columbo does get to wear a gnome-ass big wizard hat in this one.

[traveler-at-heart]

Across the Natashaverse

Summary: Through a small accident, you end up in another universe. What happens when you find out that your relationship with Natasha is very different here?

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Life is good.

No missions for the week, done with training and fresh off the shower, you walk down the halls of the Compound.

“Someone’s in a good mood” Wanda comments when you join her at the kitchen. “Did Natasha change her mind about the date?”

Your smile falls immediately and her eyes widen.

“Shoot, I’m sorry”

“Nah, it’s fine” you steal a cookie from her plate and shrug your shoulders. “It was two weeks ago. She doesn’t see me that way, I get it”

“I don’t think it’s that” Wanda insists and you smile.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, Maximoff” you lean forward and place a kiss on the top of her head. The brunette chuckles, going back to the book she was reading.

As you walk to your room, you try not to think of Natasha. But it’s a small world, and she’s on her way to the gym, America Chavez right behind her.

“I’m on training duty” the redhead explains. “Wanna join us?”

“I have so much paperwork” you lie, because you’re very tired and have been looking forward to a nap. “Kick some butt, America”

“I’ll try” she doesn’t sound convinced at all.

Natasha smiles at you, waiting for your signature wink that always gets her heart racing.

But there’s not even a look back as you go to your room.

She really screwed up this time.

—

You weren’t exactly lying about the paperwork, and you work on it for half an hour to feel like you’re doing something productive with your day.

With a yawn, you stand up from the desk in your room and walk towards the bed. As you’re about to plop down, there’s a shift in the room and you land on your ass, the bed on the other side of the wall.

“What the fuck?” you say, looking around.

The room looks different. It’s the same size, but none of your stuff is there. Same thing with the hallways. It’s the Compound, but at the same time… it’s not. You walk out of the room, this time on spy mode, ready to take down the imminent threat.

“Y/N?” Natasha calls behind you and you rush to her side.

“Nat, hey. There’s something wrong. Stay close” you take her hand, and she stops you with a pull.

“I’ll say”

“Huh?” you turn, only to find her face inches away from yours.

“Where’s your wedding ring?”

“My… what?” you look down at your hands, confused. Natasha moves her face closer and you can’t focus on anything else.

“Oh, I see. Are you still angry about the other day? Because I can totally make it up to you, detka” Natasha whispers seductively against your lips, leaving a trail of kisses all the way to the shell of your ear.

“Nat.. uh… I think…”

“Use your words, pretty girl” she smiles, her hand going up your shirt to caress the skin.

And suddenly, she looks down, frowning.

“Where’s your scar?”

“I don’t have a…”

Natasha turns into a whole different person, placing you in a chokehold and holding both your arms down.

“Who are you? Are you a skrull?”

“I don’t know what that is” you say, gasping for air. “Wait, are they the ones Carol works with?”

“Who is Carol?”

“Captain Marvel”

“You mean Maria Rambeau”

“Maria is Captain Marvel?” you say, finally piecing together what’s happening. When your eyes lock with Natasha’s, you speak at the same time.

“You’re from another world”

“I’m from another world”

Even if she doesn’t let go, her grip on you losens enough for you to breathe. She’s about to ask something else when a little girl walks up and pulls your hand, getting your attention.

“Mama, what are you and Mommy doing?”

—

“Walk me through what happened”

“Nothing happened! I was doing paperwork in my room and then I was here” you say for the tenth time.

“How about before?” Natasha asks, turning right. Her idea was to drive you straight to Wong, as a multiverse travel is more of his specialty.

“I ran into you. I mean, not you. My Natasha. Wait, not my. She’s not mine” you mumble, massaging your temples. “Please tell me there’s ibuprofen in this world”

“Relax” she reaches forward, placing a hand on your thigh and you swear you’ll combust. “I get the idea. Now tell me what happened”

“We just ran into the hallway. Made some small talk. And then I went to my room”

“Just small talk?” Natasha smirks. “Not some kisses? A quickie against the wall? An earth shattering, universe transcending orgasm?”

You try to open the door and jump out of the moving car but it’s locked.

“It’s not… we’re not a thing. Just friends” you say, flustered.

“Really?” Natasha finally turns to you, as she parks outside of the not so secret lair at Bleecker street.

“Wait. It was America Chavez” you remember, facepalming. Of course. “Natasha was training her. Maybe she created a portal by accident”

“And now my wife is in another universe where you’re too chicken to ask me out. Can’t imagine that will go well for her”

“Hey, it’s not like that” you snap, embarrassed. Natasha turns to you, ready to speak back, as usual. Because she’s so smart and she thinks she knows everything. “Whatever. Let’s just get this shit fixed, I don’t wanna be here”

Walking past her, you stand before the big doors, that open up without knocking

“Welcome” the man says. “I take it you’re the little glitch in our universe”

“Yes, I am. Can you fix it?”

“No. But America can. She has been at Kamar-Taj for a year now. Her powers are more developed. It should be an interesting test for her”

“Ok, so what are we waiting for?”

“There have been some security concerns lately” Natasha explains, coming closer. “Wong has to notify their council to follow protocol”

“I’ll come find you tomorrow. Remember, the longer you stay here, the bigger the threat for both worlds”

“Yes, fine. See you tomorrow” you say, looking at your feet as you leave the building. Going down the steps, you can hear Natasha calling after you. “I’m walking back to the Compound. It’s the same route. I can wait for Wong there”

“We don’t live in the Compound” Natasha explains, her voice gentle. She waits until you turn back and searches your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said before. Come with me. I’ll feel better if I know you’re safe with us”

There’s a pause, and she waits patiently while you look around. But Natasha’s presence is like a magnet, and inevitably, your eyes come back to her beautiful features.

“What’s so funny?” she says when you chuckle.

“You do the same thing. Tilt your head to the side, purse your lips… it’s cute. In every universe”

“Sweet talker. Come on. Let’s go” she offers her hand and you accept it.

It takes an enormous amount of effort to remind yourself this isn’t the Natasha you know. And that you’re not the one she loves.

You’re so caught up in these thoughts you don’t notice when she pulls over.

“Ice cream always cheers you up” she explains, getting out of the car.

“Yeah, I guess we’re not that different”

She smiles, holding the door open for you. Well, at least the flavors are the same in this universe.

“I’ll have the peanut butter with chocolate chips”

“You’re allergic” Natasha says.

“I’m not”

“You’re not?” she repeats, while the man behind the counter looks at both of you, confused.

“Nope”

Once that’s settled, you get your ice cream cones and leave the store.

“Why are you staring?” you say, mouth full of ice cream.

“I’m just waiting for the hives and the runny nose”

“I’m not allergic” you insist, showing your arms, skin completely normal.

“Fine” she concedes, shrugging her shoulders. You keep eating in silence, until she turns back. “Wanna tell me why you got so upset?”

“Because. I did ask you… her out. She said no. I wasn’t a chicken; I gave her flowers and put myself out there. But I’m obviously the problem, because in this universe, everything works out to the point of you two getting married and having a daughter”

You take a seat in a nearby bench, feeling defeated. What a cruel thing, to see the life you could have had.

“Maybe she’s not ready. I was terrified when we started dating. Thought I’d screw it up because I knew nothing of love”

That’s what Wanda probably meant earlier. It’s a possibility that crossed your mind as well, but whatever the reason, Natasha had declined the date (looking very apologetic, you might add) and you were going to respect that choice.

“Or maybe she just doesn’t want me. And that’s ok. Because no matter what happens, I love my Natasha. And I’ll always want her to be happy���

Silence settles after you say that, but Natasha looks back at you, smiling.

“You’re very noble. It’s nice to see some things are the same across worlds”

“It’s nice to know there’s a version of me that makes a version of her happy”

Natasha smiles and nods.

“Let’s get home. Anya is waiting for us”

—

“Home sweet home” Natasha says, opening the door for you. It’s a beautiful townhouse, with lots of space in the backyard. All the walls are covered in pictures, and you can’t help but stare at all the memories that belong to a different version of you.

They seem like a happy family.

“Mommy” Anya says, and it takes a second to remember that she’s talking to you.

“Hey, sweetheart” you don’t hesitate to carry her as she comes running towards you. Natasha is keeping a watchful eye on you. “What is that?”

“That’s my Miffy, silly” she says and you bounce her in your arms, while she shows you her plushie.

Yelena joins you and you can’t help but stare. Her hair is black, short and she has bangs. There are also a couple of piercings in her nose and eyebrows.

“Did you cut your hair? Looks nice” she comments, picking up her stuff and getting ready to go. You simply nod and smile. “Gotta go, see you tomorrow for dinner with Kate, ok?”

Natasha’s sisters kisses everyone goodbye, including you and then bolts out the door.

“Baby, did you bath yet?” Natasha says, approaching Anya. The girl hides her face in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t wanna”

“You’re stinky” Natasha accuses, tickling the girl; Anya gives up and goes from your arms to the redhead’s. “Come on, and then I’ll start dinner”

“I can take care of that” you offer and Natasha’s eyes widen. Anya uses Natasha’s hair as a curtain, and thinks you can’t hear what she says.

“I don’t want Mommy to cook”

“What? Why?”

“You can’t cook” Natasha says. Well, that’s just bullshit. In your world, Natasha’s always the first in line to get a good serving of whatever it is you do.

“Go, I got this” you insist when Natasha puts Anya down. The redhead looks back several times, unsure. My God, how bad could the other you be in this world to get this reaction?

Luckily, once they are done with the bath, Anya comes back, pulling her mother and commenting that the smell is incredible.

“Mommy didn’t burn the kitchen!”

“Has that actually happened?” you mumble to Natasha and she nods. “Yikes”

The redhead laughs, and nudges your shoulder with hers.

“This is really good” she admits after trying your chicken pasta bake.

“Thinking about keeping me?”

“Maybe” she jokes. “Or bring you over when I don’t feel like cooking”

Of course, Anya doesn’t understand what you’re talking about. She tells you about her day with aunt Yelena and all you have to do is listen and nod.

“I’ll do the dishes” you offer after you finish.

“Come say goodnight to her”

“Will do”

While you clean, you try not to think about what life will be like tomorrow, when you go back to a world where things are different.

“She fell asleep in the middle of a Clifford story” Natasha comes back after a few minutes. “It’s probably because she ate so much”

“I’ll leave the recipe for you” you promise. “Mind if I crash in the couch?”

“Right” the redhead smiles, and you can tell she’s nervous by the way she fidgets with her hands. You reach forward, taking them in yours.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t really sleep without… her”

“I can stay on the bedroom floor”

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering” you assure her.

By the time you’re done with cleaning the kitchen, there’s an inflatable mattress, pillows and a blanket.

“Let me know if you’re comfortable” Natasha asks, turning off the bedroom lights.

“Or what? You’ll let me sleep cuddled up? It wouldn’t be good for the space and time continuum that I kick my own butt”

“I actually think she’d find it funny” Natasha says, and you let her voice lull you in the dark. “She’s probably teasing your Natasha endlessly, trying to get her to admit some sort of feelings for you”

“She has a death wish” you groan, admittedly forgetting that the Natasha you know is having a less than pleasant time right now.

“What is she like?” Natasha says after a few moments of silence.

“She’s the smartest person in any room. Hates cooking and doing dishes. Always looking out for others, always taking on the most missions. She’s really funny too. Sometimes, Bucky will ask anyone for movie recs and Natasha will give a completely made up title. So, Barnes will go crazy looking around for it”

“Oh, I’m so doing that next time” you both laugh.

“Great ass too” you say after a beat and a pillow is thrown across the room and falls right in your face. “Hey!”

“Go to sleep”

—

Next morning, you figure it’s only fair to cook some breakfast before Wong calls you over.

Which, he does, sooner than expected.

Anya is barely finished with breakfast, when Natasha comes down the stairs and looks at you.

“It’s time”

Feeling nervous, and a bit sad, you nod. Wanda shows up a few minutes later. To your shock, in this world, she’s pregnant.

“Thank you for taking care of her, it really won’t take long” Natasha says as soon as she steps inside.

The brunette eyes you curiously, and you can tell by her magic that she knows this isn’t your world.

“You know I’m always happy to”

At the door, Natasha picks up Anya and kisses her everywhere she can. The girl giggles once her mother places her down.

“Hey, bug” you kneel on the floor. “Be good. Your moms will be back soon, ok?”

“Ok, mommy. See you soon”

“Bye, Anya” you say, letting her hug you. Once you’re out the door, Natasha reaches for your hand, and squeezes lightly.

The ride to Bleeker street is silent. Wong seems pleased when he sees you.

“Follow me, ladies” he asks, opening up a portal to Kamar Taj. You’d only been there once; the size of the place always makes you feel like you’re in another planet.

A much older version of America greets you -she’s probably in her twenties- and takes your hand for a second, closing her eyes.

“Ready to go home?” she asks.

“Wait!” Natasha calls behind you and you turn, eyes wide. To your surprise, the woman hugs you, and you wrap her in your arms as well. When she pulls away, she places a small kiss on your cheek. “Anyone would be lucky to have you. She’s an idiot if she can’t see that”

“Thanks, Nat. Not about the idiot part. Be kind to every version of yourself, yes?”

“Fine” she rolls her eyes, squeezing your hand one last time.

You’re about to step into the portal when you turn to America.

“This won’t send me into the middle of a busy road or like, free falling to my death, right?”

“Most likely not” she promises.

You don’t like the sound of that.

“Ok, but on a scale of one to ten…”

“For Agamoto’s sake” Wong sighs behind you, pushing you without warning.

The room is completely upside down and then you land in the middle of the meeting table, the Avengers around you screaming.

“Son of a bitch” Steve says as you roll to the floor, out of air.

“Language” you manage to say. Everyone’s rushing to you. Sam is the first one and he helps you up. They are all talking at the same time, Wanda inspecting the cut on your forehead from falling on the table.

Suddenly, Natasha nudges them aside, wrapping you in her arms.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s me” you say against her temple.

“We’ll leave you alone. Go to the medbay, though”

“Yes, Cap”

You’re in no hurry, Natasha safely in your arms.

—

“So, what happened while I was gone?” you casually ask as Natasha cleans the cut.

“I almost killed you… her. Twice”

“Sounds like you had fun”

“Not really. She’s a smartass. Can’t cook a damn thing, so I made her a pb&j sandwich”

“Oh, yeah. She’s allergic” you grimace. “Wait, you said you almost killed her twice. If one was with peanut butter…”

“The first thing she did when she came to this world was slap my ass”

“She does have a death wish” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t answer, turning around to put the first aid kit away.

“Is it true?” Natasha asks. You look at her, confused. “Are we married? With a daughter?”

“Oh. Yes, it’s true. They seem to be happy. It was nice”

“Was she better than me?”

“Natasha” you say, forcing her to face you. “I have no doubt in my mind that you’re awesome in every universe. But this version of you is the one I know and love. With your love of spy films, the scar in your belly, and your half smirk when you beat everyone at Uno”

“I am really good at Uno” she agrees and you both laugh.

“Damn right you are”

“I missed you. Too much, to the point where I realise I can’t keep pretending I don’t want this. I’m just scared” she says, holding on to your hands. “Will you help me? Be brave for us”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, love” you promise, kissing her hand softly. “In this, or any other universe”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Boeing’s deliberately defective fleet of flying sky-wreckage

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (May 2) in WINNIPEG, then Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!

Boeing's 787 "Dreamliner" is manufactured far from the company's Seattle facility, in a non-union shop in Charleston, South Carolina. At that shop, there is a cage full of defective parts that have been pulled from production because they are not airworthy.

Hundreds of parts from that Material Review Segregation Area (MRSA) were secretly pulled from that cage and installed on aircraft that are currently plying the world's skies. Among them, sections 47/48 of a 787 – the last four rows of the plane, along with its galley and rear toilets. As Moe Tkacik writes in her excellent piece on Boeing's lethally corrupt culture of financialization and whistleblower intimidation, this is a big ass chunk of an airplane, and there's no way it could go missing from the MRSA cage without a lot of people knowing about it:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-30-whistleblower-laws-protect-lawbreakers/

More: MRSA parts are prominently emblazoned with red marks denoting them as defective and unsafe. For a plane to escape Boeing's production line and find its way to a civilian airport near you with these defective parts installed, many people will have to see and ignore this literal red flag.

The MRSA cage was a special concern of John "Swampy" Barnett, the Boeing whistleblower who is alleged to have killed himself in March. Tkacik's earlier profile of Swampy paints a picture of a fearless, stubborn engineer who refused to go along to get along, refused to allow himself to become inured to Boeing's growing culture of profits over safety:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-03-28-suicide-mission-boeing/

Boeing is America's last aviation company and its single largest exporter. After the company was allowed to merge with its rival McDonnell-Douglas in 1997, the combined company came under MDD's notoriously financially oriented management culture. MDD CEO Harry Stonecipher became Boeing's CEO in the early 2000s. Stonecipher was a protege of Jack Welch, the man who destroyed General Electric with cuts to quality and workforce and aggressive union-busting, a classic Mafia-style "bust-out" that devoured the company's seed corn and left it a barren wasteland:

https://qz.com/1776080/how-the-mcdonnell-douglas-boeing-merger-led-to-the-737-max-crisis

Post-merger, Boeing became increasingly infected with MDD's culture. The company chased cheap, less-skilled labor to other countries and to America's great onshore-offshore sacrifice zone, the "right-to-work" American south, where bosses can fire uppity workers who balked at criminal orders, without the hassle of a union grievance.

Stonecipher was succeeded by Jim "Prince Jim" McNerney, ex-3M CEO, another Jack Welch protege (Welch spawned a botnet of sociopath looters who seized control of the country's largest, most successful firms, and drove them into the ground). McNerney had a cute name for the company's senior engineers: "phenomenally talented assholes." He created a program to help his managers force these skilled workers – everyone a Boeing who knew how to build a plane – out of the company.

McNerney's big idea was to get rid of "phenomenally talented assholes" and outsource the Dreamliner's design to Boeing's suppliers, who were utterly dependent on the company and could easily be pushed around (McNerney didn't care that most of these companies lacked engineering departments). This resulted in a $80b cost overrun, and a last-minute scramble to save the 787 by shipping a "cleanup crew" from Seattle to South Carolina, in the hopes that those "phenomenally talented assholes" could save McNerney's ass.

Swampy was part of the cleanup crew. He was terrified by what he saw there. Boeing had convinced the FAA to let them company perform its own inspections, replacing independent government inspectors with Boeing employees. The company would mark its own homework, and it swore that it wouldn't cheat.

Boeing cheated. Swampy dutifully reported the legion of safety violations he witnessed and was banished to babysit the MRSA, an assignment his managers viewed as a punishment that would isolate Swampy from the criminality he refused to stop reporting. Instead, Swampy audited the MRSA, and discovered that at least 420 defective aviation components had gone missing from the cage, presumably to be installed in planes that were behind schedule. Swampy then audited the keys to the MRSA and learned that hundreds of keys were "floating around" the Charleston facility. Virtually anyone could liberate a defective part and install it into an airplane without any paper trail.

Swampy's bosses had a plan for dealing with this. They ordered Swampy to "pencil whip" the investigations of 420 missing defective components and close the cases without actually figuring out what happened to them. Swampy refused.

Instead, Swampy took his concerns to a departmental meeting where 12 managers were present and announced that "if we can’t find them, any that we can’t find, we need to report it to the FAA." The only response came from a supervisor, who said, "We’re not going to report anything to the FAA."

The thing is, Swampy wasn't just protecting the lives of the passengers in those defective aircraft – he was also protecting Boeing employees. Under Sec 38 of the US Criminal Code, it's a 15-year felony to make any "materially false writing, entry, certification, document, record, data plate, label, or electronic communication concerning any aircraft or space vehicle part."

(When Swampy told a meeting that he took this seriously because "the paperwork is just as important as the aircraft" the room erupted in laughter.)

Swampy sent his own inspectors to the factory floor, and they discovered "dozens of red-painted defective parts installed on planes."

Swampy blew the whistle. How did the 787 – and the rest of Boeing's defective flying turkeys – escape the hangar and find their way into commercial airlines' fleets? Tkacik blames a 2000 whistleblower law called AIR21 that:

creates such byzantine procedures, locates adjudication power in such an outgunned federal agency, and gives whistleblowers such a narrow chance of success that it effectively immunizes airplane manufacturers, of which there is one in the United States, from suffering any legal repercussions from the testimony of their own workers.

By his own estimation, Swampy was ordered to commit two felonies per week for six years. Tkacik explains that this kind of operation relies on a culture of ignorance – managers must not document their orders, and workers must not be made aware of the law. Whistleblowers like Swampy, who spoke the unspeakable, were sidelined (an assessment by one of Swampy's managers called him "one of the best" and finished that "leadership would give hugs and high fives all around at his departure").

Multiple whistleblowers were singled out for retaliation and forced departure. William Hobek, a quality manager who refused to "pencil whip" the missing, massive 47-48 assembly that had wandered away from the MRSA cage, was given a "weak" performance review and fired despite an HR manager admitting that it was bogus.

Another quality manager, Cynthia Kitchens, filed an ethics complaint against manager Elton Wright who responded to her persistent reporting of defects on the line by shoving her against a wall and shouting that Boeing was "a good ol’ boys’ club and you need to get on board." Kitchens was fired in 2016. She had cancer at the time.

John Woods, yet another quality engineer, was fired after he refused to sign off on a corner-cutting process to repair a fuselage – the FAA later backed up his judgment.

Then there's Sam Salehpour, the 787 quality engineer whose tearful Congressional testimony described more corner-cutting on fuselage repairs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PP0xhIe1LFE

Salehpour's boss followed the Boeing playbook to the letter: Salehpour was constantly harangued and bullied, and he was isolated from colleagues who might concur with his assessment. When Salehpour announced that he would give Congressional testimony, his car was sabotaged under mysterious circumstances.

It's a playbook. Salehpour's experience isn't unusual at Boeing. Two other engineers, working on the 787 Organization Designation Authorization, held up production by insisting that the company fix the planes' onboard navigation computers. Their boss gave them a terrible performance review, admitting that top management was furious at the delays and had ordered him to punish the engineers. The engineers' union grievance failed, with Boeing concluding that this conduct – which they admitted to – didn't rise to the level of retaliation.

As Tkacik points out, these engineers and managers that Boeing targeted for intimidation and retaliation are the very same staff who are supposed to be performing inspections of behalf of the FAA. In other words, Boeing has spent years attacking its own regulator, with total impunity.

But it's not just the FAA who've failed to take action – it's also the DOJ, who have consistently declined to bring prosecutions in most cases, and who settled the rare case they did bring with "deferred prosecution agreements." This pattern was true under Trump's DOJ and continued under Biden's tenure. Biden's prosecutors have been so lackluster that a federal judge "publicly rebuked the DOJ for failing to take seriously the reputational damage its conduct throughout the Boeing case was inflicting on the agency."

Meanwhile, there's the AIR21 rule, a "whistleblower" rule that actually protects Boeing from whistleblowers. Under AIR21, an aviation whistleblower who is retaliated against by their employer must first try to resolve their problem internally. If that fails, the whistleblower has only one course of action: file an OSHA complaint within 90 days (if HR takes more than 90 days to resolve your internal complaint, you can no have no further recourse). If you manage to raise a complaint with OSHA, it is heard by a secret tribunal that has no subpoena power and routinely takes five years to rule on cases, and rules against whistleblowers 97% of the time.

Boeing whistleblowers who missed the 90-day cutoff have filled the South Carolina courts with last-ditch attempts to hold the company to account. When they lose these cases – as is routine, given Boeing's enormous legal muscle and AIR21's legal handcuffs – they are often ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs.

Tkacik cites Swampy's lawyer, Rob Turkewitz, who says Swampy was the only one of Boeing's whistleblowers who was "savvy, meticulous, and fast-moving enough to bring an AIR 21 case capable of jumping through all the hoops" to file an AIR21 case, which then took seven years. Turkewitz calls Boeing South Carolina "a criminal enterprise."

That's a conclusion that's hard to argue with. Take Boeing's excuse for not producing the documentation of its slapdash reinstallation of the Alaska Air door plug that fell off its plane in flight: the company says it's not criminally liable for failing to provide the paperwork, because it never documented the repair. Not documenting the repair is also a crime.

You might have heard that there's some accountability coming to the Boeing boardroom, with the ouster of CEO David Calhoun. Calhoun's likely successor is Patrick Shanahan, whom Tkacik describes as "the architect of the ethos that governed the 787 program" and whom her source called "a classic schoolyard bully."

If Shanahan's name rings a bell, it might be because he was almost Trump's Secretary of Defense, but that was derailed by the news that he had "emphatically defended" his 17 year old son after the boy nearly beat his mother to death with a baseball bat. Shanahan is presently CEO of Spirit Aerospace, who made the door-plug that fell out of the Alaska Airlines 737 Max.

Boeing is a company where senior managers only fail up and where whistleblowers are terrorized in and out of the workplace. One of Tkacik's sources noticed his car shimmying. The source, an ex-787 worker who'd been fired after raising safety complaints, had tried to bring an AIR21 complaint, but withdrew it out of fear of being bankrupted if he was ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs. When the whistleblower pulled over, he discovered that two of the lug-nuts had been removed from one of his wheels.

The whistleblower texted Tkcacik to say (not for the first time): "If anything happens, I'm not suicidal."

Boeing is a primary aerospace contractor to the US government. It's clear that its management – and investors – consider it too big to jail. It's also clear that they know it's too big to fail – after all, the company did a $43b stock buyback, then got billions in a publicly funded buyback.

Boeing is, effectively, a government agency that is run for the benefit of its investors. It performs its own safety inspections. It investigates its own criminal violations of safety rules. It loots its own coffers and then refills them at public expense.

Meanwhile, the company has filled our skies with at least 420 airplanes with defective, red-painted parts that were locked up in the MRSA cage, then snuck out and fitted to an airplane that you or someone you love could fly on the next time you take your family on vacation or fly somewhere for work.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/01/boeing-boeing/#mrsa

Image: Tom Axford 1 (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_sky_with_wisps_of_cloud_on_a_clear_summer_morning.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

--

Clemens Vasters (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:N7379E_-_Boeing_737_MAX_9.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[courtjestersanonymous]

Literally Wanda goes on a rampage on trying to use América Chavez don't remember for what i think to possess her and use America's powers to go into another universe and be with her non existent kids that actually do exist in other universes. Strange tries to stop her and that's basically it. Just curious why do u not want to watch it?

I didn't like the movie much tbh. But i like some aspects of it.

OOOOOO okay that makes more sense. It has my two least favorite avengers and thats pretty much why nothing deeper i just dont really care enough to sit and watch it. BUT wanda looks fucking unHINGED in the gifs ive seen of her from that movie and i wanted to know why she is a fucking nightmare. I also like the America Chavez character from the gifs but didnt know why she was important but that also answers that so thank you!

[3027960]

ghost coming home to fat! reader

-

he doesn't even know what time it is, as he shoulders the door open quietly and toes his sneakers off in the entranceway to your apartment. it's some time early in the morning, because the birds are singing and you're asleep. he white knuckled the steering wheel the whole way home, desperate to fall in bed and just hold you. sometimes you try to stay up if you get the text that he's headed home, but he knows you like to shower in the mornings before work which means an earlier wake up call.

he sets his duffle next to the couch, observing the black throw blanket tossed haphazardly over the back of your green velvet couch. he thought it was hideous, but you'd found it on facebook marketplace for cheap and had puppydog-eyed him about it being your dream piece of furniture. you obviously had tried to wait up, if the half drunk coffee leaving watermarks on the side table was any indication.

he slips off his balaclava, stuffing it in his jacket. he had changed back at the base - took a quick shower to get off the grime of a week long mission in south america, changed into an adidas track suit and trainers. if you could see him, you'd laugh and call him a 'chav'.

ghost padded down the hallway of the apartment, missing the creaky floorboards in front of the guest bathroom. the bedroom door was open, the twinkle of the fairy lights draped over the wall illuminating your soft form on the bed.

you slept on the left, he on the right.

you were neatly tucked into the comforter, the swell of your ass straining as you curled up under the covers. he couldn't even find it in him to be turned on at the sight, exhaustion seeping into his bones like mercury.

he slipped his pants and jacket off, tossing them over the back of your desk chair. you'd surely complain tomorrow, but for now he wanted to crawl in bed and disappear into your soft belly and wide hips. he wanted to slide his hand under your shift, pulling you into his chest.

so he did.

[skylarsblue]

✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes Nine✦

(Sexual Implication) Ghost, trying to be sexy by whispering: Gaggin’ for it, aren’t ya, love? Soap: Nope. Ghost: No? Soap: I don’t gag on anything. Ghost: *404 Error* Soap: …Ghost? Si? Simon, are you alright?

-- Y/N: Let’s play a word association game! Ghost: Why? Y/N: Because I saved your ass last mission and I’m bored, so you owe me. Ghost: *sigh* Fine. Y/N: P e r f e c t . Gaz: ?? Y/N: Cold. Ghost: Winter. Y/N: Spring. Ghost: Mattress. Y/N: Soft. Ghost: Comfortable. Y/N: Pleasant. Ghost: Sunset. Y/N, With a shit eating grin: Beautiful. Ghost, unconsciously: Johnny- Y/N: YES Gaz: OHHHHHH Ghost: Soap: *gasp* Simon!~ Ghost: I’m going to go crash in a heli. Y/N: I KNEW IT I KNEW IT-

-- Alex: Bitch do you want me to jump across this table? Because I don’t have all day for this. Norris: You feeling froggy? Leap. Alex: Okay, well here I come- Farah: Alex no, no- hOLD OFF

-- (NSFW Joke) Y/N: Oh sorry. I almost drank out of your cup. Soap: Wh-Just go ahead, it won’t matter! Y/N: Well I- Yeah no, you’re right. I’ve drank out of your cups dozens of times. Soap: We’ve sucked the same dick- Y/N: That’s a good point! Ghost: ….*sigh*

-- Gaz: What kind of girl do you like? Soap: My wife. Gaz: And you? Ghost: Johnny’s wife. Gaz: OH- Price, knowing they recently started a poly situation: Pfft-

-- (Use of the word pussy because haha) Gaz, filming: Pffft- Soap: Shhshh- Y/N in the hallway: FORTY THREE FUCKING CENTS! AHHHHH Soap: *wheeze* Y/N: I NEED A SUGAR DADDY!! Gaz: PFFFT- Soap: I can’t breathe- Y/N: At this rate I’m ready to plaster my fuckin’ pussy on the sidewalk for some sPARE CHANGE! Gaz & Soap: *doing that silent cackle thing and smack each other in the arm* Ghost, leaning into the room: What the f- Y/N: SPAARE CHANGE, SPARE CHANGE! ANYONE GOT ANY SPARE CHAAANGE?! Gaz: *coughing* Soap: Steamin’ Jesus I’m fucking crying- Y/N, passing by the room: 🎵Walkin’ in a winter wonderlaaaand🎶

-- Y/N: Would you love me? Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Would I love you if…? Y/N: nO ThAt wAs tHE QuesTiOn-

-- Y/N: Pretty boy! With me I said! Rudy: Rudy: Rudy: Oh I’m pretty boy! Y/N: Yes! Oo that came out a bit quick- (Also works with Soap & Gaz, honestly)

-- (THIS IS A CONCEPT IM TOO WHIMPY TO WRITE, SO HAVE IT HERE! THIS COULD WORK WITH SO MANY CHARACTERS Also, NSFW warning) Ghost: I don’t miss. Y/N, on his ear piece: Never? Even with distractions? Ghost: *turns his scope* Not ever. *just about to take a shot* Y/N: Hmm…what if I went… Mm Simon~ Ghost: *misses* Y/N: Ya missed. Ghost: Cheeky bitch…

-- Gaz: Alright, so, since we’re now in America and we have some time to kill, I went and I got you something. Y/N: Aww Gaz, you really didn’t have to- Gaz: *puts down their Whataburger order* Y/N: OH MY GOD Price: Really? Gaz: *shrug* Soap: *snickering as Y/N Fucking demolishes some fries* Y/N, having the time of their life: Garrick you ever need your dick sucked, a dead body buried, a beer or whatever, you call me. I got’chu Gaz: BAHA- Soap: *wheeze* Ghost: Are you fucking crying? Y/N with their mouth full: I missed it so much.

-- (Team bonding exercises) Soap: You’re a football player, it’s in ya blood! Gaz: That’s racist. Soap: Your soul? Gaz: That’s racist! Soap: …your eyes? Gaz: That’s gay- Soap: That’s homophobic. Gaz: That’s black. Soap: That’s racist!! Gaz: Damn- (this one is extra funny since Gaz is now confirmed LGBT)

-- Gaz: You overrated little twink! Soap: Hey I am a TWUNK, alright?! That is a combination, twink, and HUNK, get it?? Hunk-

-- Soap: Hey~ Fem!Y/N: You’re Gay. Soap: …oh yeah. Soap: *looks at Ghost* Soap: Hey.~ Ghost: *sigh*

-- Soap: I’m gonna have to meet men lying down. Y/N: …I thought’cha did?? Soap: OI!

-- Soap: Everyone says what a giving person I am! Y/N: He’s talking about when you’re in an upright position.

-- Graves: What if there’s a connection? Y/N: I think there’s a connection between your brain and wallpaper paste.

-- Shepard: Now you’re always ornery, rude, unpleasant, and sometimes downright mean. That’s part of your charm. Y/N: Thank you, you colluding-county-hopping-idiotic-relic. Price: *pride*

-- Alex: Oh my god, how are you such a good driver? Soap: Because there’s illegal shit in here. Alex: Soap: Because if I don’t use my turn signal, we’re both gonna do fifteen. Because I am going to lie and say yours. Alex: ….. Soap: Put your seatbelt on, sweetheart. Alex: *clicks it in places* Soap: You are not safe!

-- (Sucking dick joke) Kidnapper: You’re gonna do as I say or I will make you regret ever being born. Y/N: Oh please, I’ve sucked dicks more intimidating than you. Soap: Oh this is why Simon was the way he was after we rescued you both last time.

-- Soap, shoving marshmallows in his mouth: This isn’t very ha-*chokes* MILF!Y/N, across the fucking base: ….*mom instinct* Price: ??? Ghost: Uh- Y/N: Something just happened. Kyle: PFFT-

-- MILF!Y/N: *letting Soap & Gaz lean on her while Price and Ghost stand close behind* Untrue. I’m a mother now. It’s really changed my perspective. Graves: And do you find it hard juggling life and a career? Y/N: You can juggle these nuts.

-- Soap: *rambling* Soap: Agh, sorry, I’m just goin’ on and on- Ghost: Oi, keep talking before I kick your ass. Soap: ….. Gaz: See? This is exactly what I m-where the fuck are these flower petals coming from?? ARE THOSE SPARKLES??

[b00tyliciousbabe]

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

barbie tingz

marcus scribner x THICC male reader

summary: just marcus loving you like with his heart, soul, and FAT SCHLONG. slight feminisation - don’t kill me.

notes: LOVELIES! hope everyone is having a beautiful day. i wanted to let y’all know that i will be taking a lil break because it’s exam season. don’t be sad…because this means i have an entire summer of smutty content to write and catch up on! ps. each word in this fic is me being another squat closer to the fattest ass in the world. ENJOY!

ALSO! the met gala is tonight! my favourite event of the year, i might make a short rec…how do we feel about that?

song rec: ‘freak’ - victoria monét

marcus was well on his way to establishing a name for himself in hollywood. booking new roles, alongside his debut as a director, he was on track for a career that would rival his mentors. but if you were to ask him what his biggest achievement was, he would say being with you. the corny mf has actually reiterated his adoration multiple times during interviews, and the world is obsessed with how lovestruck he was. aside from being social media’s favourite young couple, you, yourself, had a blossoming career in fashion that meant you were styling your man to make sure he looked good for his press tours.

notoriously, you garnered a reputation for EATING UP on the carpet - zendaya being your only competition. this ain’t no exaggeration, but every time you’d step out, those fits would break the internet. thus, when the news dropped that you’d be attending the premiere with your boyfriend, all eyes would be on you - yet again. having you on his arm, instantly elevated his aesthetic. not that he ever saw you as some pawn too boost his career, you meant the world to him, but your beauty as his trophy wife made him even more palatable. usually, you’d have an entire glam team by your side cultivating your iconic, polished look. but, you and marcus had both been working so hard, to the detriment of your relationship, and so you decided to spend the night at his, agreeing to do all the glam yourself.

‘Y/N,’ Marcus bellowed from downstairs, putting on his rings, and spraying cologne onto his clothes. ‘baby, we gotta go.’

‘Y/N! over here! to the left! Y/N!’ a flurry of paparazzi screamed. ‘the body is TEA!’ one reporter exclaimed, making you laugh.

you graciously blushed. they weren’t wrong, your pear-shaped figure, defined abs, and toned arms were nothing short of a sculpted masterpiece. amidst the bbl allegations on twitter, and every tabloid claiming to have the secret to getting an ass as perfect as yours, YOU were the standard. a beautiful, androgynous mix of allure and charm. not even chris evans, america’s ass, said that you had the best glutes in the industry. it was a thing of wonder; something so many lusted for, and even more desired to have a piece of whilst having you in backshots. there were an array of wolf whistles from the public whenever you walked, swiftly followed by a gaggle of photographers snapping shots of your post-gym bawd.

marcus soon joined you on the carpet after finishing up on his interview. if the sensory overstimulation of flashes and cheers wasn’t enough, this was heightened when marcus snaked his arm around your lower back. whispering sweet nothings into your ear, spectators were foaming at the mouth by his public proclamations of love, hiding your blush from the world.

‘don’t be shy,’ he said lifting your chin to his face. ‘there’s that smile I love.’ the whole crowd was gushing, you could’ve cringed at how clingy he was being in public, but found his confidence to do so, all the more endearing.

one thing that you sly liked about marcus, was how he jealous he could get, so many of his friends and industry buffs would come up to talk to you during the interviews, coming up for hugs, and even though he trusted you, his need to protect had him riled. marcus had a great relationship with all of his co-stars and they all became such a family over the filming process. you being there made the family even stronger, embodying the role of MOTHERRR in more ways than one, and they all appreciated your kindness. always there to soften the stressful tones of your bf’s criticism.

you were particularly close with his friend from another project, and due to mutual management you spent a lot of time in the same spaces. he came up and hugged you from behind, before being whisked away to speak with another reporter. all but a few seconds, lasted an eternity, the worst kind, burned into the possessive psyche of your man.

moments passed and it was time for group pictures on the carpet. you and marc were dead center, with his large hands gripping you tighter than usual. you looked up to see he was scowling, ‘lighten up bubs.’ you giggled, to which your bf fixed his face - he could never stay mad when you were always there to calm his demons. not long after, the same face screw, that made his nose look so cute came back, as he remembered the voices of the media resounding in his head.

‘damn I’d hit that.’

‘Marcus is one lucky mf to be all up in dat pussy’

‘I bet the recoil on that thing is insane.’

it infuriated him to hear how the public spoke about you, as if you were some object, and not the kind person he grew so enamoured with. ‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you gon’ beg me for mercy.’ he whispered , breaking that veneer of respectability for a brief moment, squeezing your butt, then turning back to smile at the cameras. you’d never seen that side to him, it’d be a lie to say it didn’t turn you on.

throughout the screening, he made sure to let you know that all your teasing would soon be dealt with. the vulgar remarks were still plaguing him, and you knew you were about to be on the receiving end of it. literally.

‘upstairs.’ he said sternly,

the two of you started kissing, unbuttoning his shirt as he unbuckled your pants to free the globes of juicy flesh he loved so much. strewn across the floor, all fear of creasing the custom couture outfit you were wearing had disappeared - the overwhelming desire to make love to your boyfriend clouded your judgement.

you get down to business, kneeling to align your lips with his cock head. ‘don’t take this the wrong way.’ marcus sighed, urging you to stand up, so frail against how tall your man stood.

‘Y/N, i just wanna fuck right now.’

you knew how badly he needed this, and a part of you liked how desperate he was to be inside you. but it was bizarre, marcus loved watching you suck him off, getting him all lubed to plough your hole, almost as much as you loved gagging on his meat. nonetheless, you obliged, bending over as you had your knees on the edge of the bed, hole puckering at the chill of the air. marcus grabbed your left cheek, caressing and massaging your upper hip.

‘so fucking soft.’ he whispers against your skin, kissing at your taint. it was as if he snapped out of his love drunk trance, and was left a primal shell of himself. he practically ripped off your underwear, leaving your naked bodies to rub up on each other as he scrambled to find lube.

‘fuuuuuuuk’ he groaned.

his thick schlong fit like a glove in your inviting hole, slick from your desire and his precum.

‘damn i missed that boy pussy’ - LIES. that man combusts if he isn’t inside of you at least 4 times a week - wtf was there to miss? this sentiment made you smile at how whipped he was for you though.

his pace quickened. pulling his entire length out of you, except his bulbous tip, and spitting directly on your pussy to get you even more slick. ‘hear that baby,’ he praised the ‘mac n cheese’ sloppiness of your hole. ‘your pussy was made for me.’ he was right; most guys love skinny twinks because their petite butts made their tops’ look hung. despite the voluptuous curves you had, you were ample in both chest and derrière making average look like a micro penis inside you. all but marcus. he overpowered you in ways no other man could, his thick, girthy cock stretched you out in a way that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. not to mention his length, during your first time he could barely fit half in without it feeling like he was stabbing your insides. but after some practice, you started taking him - ALL of him.

his grunts deepened. ‘practically begging me to cum inside that hole.’ gripping your hair up fucking you in doggy. style. marcus began leaving love bites on your neck, marking you for all to see. his big hand crossed to caress your childbearing hips. whoever said men can’t get pregnant must’ve never accounted for marcus’ determination. his dick wanted to make you a mother so badly, and nothing was going to stop him trying.

‘you can take it.’ he praises. ‘all. of. it.’ slamming into you with a bold rhythm on his final three words. and that you could. your hole was heaven for him. every time he would enter, your thick meaty globes would bounce like jelly on his lower abdomen, making marcus even more inclined to give you your reward. you moaned out in ecstasy, your bodies were made for one another.

‘who’s pussy is this?’ his grip on your neck became tighter, still allowing you to moan out in response, ‘it’s yours marky, all yours.’ fuck. you were whipped, almost as much as he was. ‘that’s right baby, moan for me.’

‘scream like the little bitch you are.’ you and marcus both enjoyed the passion of rough sex, but this was something you hadn’t ever seen in him before. he was a beast and you loved it, way more than you could ever admit. there was something sweet about the high you were on as you were being impaled by his dick.

particularly, he relished in hearing your slutty cries, ‘music to my fucking ears.’ praising you ‘my pretty little slut, fuck yeah, you want my load.’

‘fuck yeah marc, give it to me please.’ you screeched, loving how hard he was clapping your cheeks.

‘shiiiiiiit, baby, fuuuuuck.’ he spouted, spilling his pearliness into your pussy. he used his thumbs to kneed the dough around your hips, losing himself in the bakery he so enjoyed visiting every morning for breakfast.

gently, he collapsed on top of you, still inside the warmth of your flesh. after a gentle make out sesh, cockwarming your boyfriend until he was soft, your bf brushed up against you. massaging your thick thighs, marcus tended to the bruises he gave, kissing them reassuringly. you ushered him to lay his head between your pecs, as he put his entire body weight onto you. he sighed deeply, feeling safe in your warm embrace. ‘marc, is everything okay?’ you stroke his face, as your fingers laced into his curls. he snickered groggily, ‘shouldn’t i be asking you the same thing?’ - a fair question because he litch just wrecked your shit. ‘real, but we both know that in a couple hours i’ll be fine.’ a silence filled the room, concern brewing in your heart. you played with his ear, knowing how he becomes putty in your hands. ‘fuuuuuck, you ain’t gon’ stop unless i talk, right?’ you kept quiet, trailing the tips of your fingers on his lobe. he sighed deeply, ‘i just get so possessive over you.’ his last words muffled by your ample bosom as he came to the realisation that the press’ words got to him more than he thought.

sitting up, marcus exhaled deeply. ‘i can’t even blame them for ogling, you’re so beautiful.’ ‘but u ain’t an object, and i hate that people treat you like that.’ you caressed his cheek with a loving care. ‘call it jealousy, possession, toxic - I don’t care. you’re all mine.’ marcus always felt the need to take care of what was his, doing better than what he had seen throughout his childhood.

you had an idea, trailing your fingers down his torso, circling his belly button, ‘why don’t you show me again?’ whispering into his ear as he breathed out in pleasure.

you kissed his cheek, before slowly massaging his dick tip, ‘how much do you love me.’

marcus turned you over. stroking and licking his ear, y’all were so intimate. he held onto the grooves of your waist, fucking into you slowly, marking your neck with his saliva.

‘you’re such a dream to me Y/N,’ he always had a way with words that made you smile like a school girl. ‘I was so selfish before, you didn’t even come.’ you always placed marcus’ pleasure above your own, but he was never satisfied with just brutalising your hole. he needed you to enjoy taking his dick, just as much as he enjoyed gaping your hole.

‘guess I’ll have to fuck another load in, to get one out of you.’ he joked, sucking on the sweet skin of your plump ass.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

[k-4-ni]

GOLDEN RETRIEVER! DICK GRAYSON X FEM! READER

WARNINGS: NSFW, MATURE THEMES, DON'T BE READING THIS IF YOUR UNDER 18 TF, P IN V, CONSENTED BEFORE, CREAMPIE, NIPPLE PLAY, GRINDING (OR CALL IT DRY-HUMPING WHATEVER TICKLES YOUR PICKLE).

This man is the most golden retriever boyfriend found in all the 50 States of America.

You think all the villains and ruthless criminals of Gotham would stop him from spoiling his precious little baby? He's been through worse.

Kisses, Kisses, Kisses, this man is all about kisses and hugs, cuddling you from dusk until dawn if he could, if he could.

Sure, his work might delay a few steamy make-out sessions or heart-warming snuggles for a few hours but nothing beats coming back home, shoulders slumped and bone-deep exhaustion seeping through him, only to find the love of his life curled up, thick and fluffy blankets hugging their tiny form, Waiting to be caressed and cradled, just begging to be touched.

Who can resist such a cute little kitten? He'd be snarky about it, maybe even daring to be taunting as he curled up against your form, fitting together so perfectly like he was the missing piece to your puzzle, the way his prominent and firm bulge would snuggle up from between your bubbly ass cheeks made his heart leap out of his tightened chest.

He had to dig his bleached teeth into the soft flesh of his bottom lip, biting back a breathy groan as his fingers would press into the fats of your hips, Thank god you were wearing such tight fucking shorts.

His brain would be foggy, thoughts of just being buried into your moist and silky walls filled his senses, mindlessly trailing his fingers lower between you and reaching out for his throbbing cock, nose scrunching with slight irritation before he could make out the reddened and swollen tip of his cock peeking out from his latex shorts —which he wore underneath his costume—.

Oh god, how much he missed you, If only you knew how many times the thought of you being curled up alone, bitter and cold air seeping into your bones and peeling away at the blissful warmth that one radiated off of you, oh how he'd wrap you up in his strong and beefy arms, heating and warming you up as he wished he could shove the tip of his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing and smelling in your refreshing lavender scent.

This man would make HIS pockets hurt, He doesn't care if you think it's daddy's money or his, he's buying you that diamond necklace you were ogling at the jewellery shop —even if it was just a simple glance—, This 200+ Ibs of a man would buy you every scent of Italian and Morrocan perfume he could find because he just loves it when he's pounding you from behind, his thick and calloused fingers digging into the fat and juicy flesh of those thick thighs of yours, watching as your pussy sucked all his meaty and girthy length in, He could feel his already throbbing mushroom tip kissing at that gooey and silky spot deep inside of you, And he could just pin your body up against his, shoving his nose deep into the crook of your neck as he smelt that earthy and tangy scent of the perfume that HE bought you.

All the sexy and small lingeries he thinks will curve and hug at you bubbly ass better, just so he could rip it off later when you two got home, occasionally squeezing the silky fat of your thighs or glancing down at you with those 'I'm going to fuck you balls-deep when we get home' eyes.

Ever seen those lingerie with the bows placed against your nipples? He goes fucking feral for them, He made you laugh once when saying you're like a kinder surprise, removing this sticky and unwanted piece of plastic, only to find your plump and hardened nipples from beneath, practically begging him to suck on them and ravish them until they were swollen and puffy just like his cock.

[alchemistc]

an: I was cleaning out my drafts and ran into this nearly-finished piece of two disasters having their first kiss. Enjoy.

the way you feel when you kiss him for the first time like fire within your bones like your soul has returned to the water like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again

Here’s the thing. So. Like.

He’s kissing Eddie Munson, tongue and everything, hands digging into his crazy fucking hair, face twisted sideways because they’d been sitting there next to each other, close enough that their hips were touching, and Eddie was gesturing with both hands thrown wide, so that every once in a while his hand smacked Steve’s chest on accident and he murmured a quick apology before going back to his story, and Steve fucking loved listening to him rant and rave about whatever he had a bug up his ass about on any given day, he loved it so much and it seemed like the thing to do when you loved something about someone so much it made your chest tight and your head a little fuzzy.

Steve twists his head and slots his tongue over Eddie’s lips and Eddie makes a noise that Steve feels down to his fucking toes and he nips, just a bit, swallows up Eddie’s gasp and curls his fingers around his neck and licks into his mouth.

First kisses are usually either tentative or chaotic, and this one is sloppy as all get out but it’s not – it’s good. It’s so fucking good Steve thinks he could happily fucking die right this second and he wouldn’t even be mad about it. Eddie’s teeth slide along Steve’s lower lip when he sucks said lower lip into his mouth and Steve hums and blows a breath out through his nose and fleetingly imagines their entire lives expanding out before them – tables that for another day when he’s done more than make out with Eddie in the woods behind his house.

Eddie pulls back, and Steve chases, a bit, blinks his eyes back open with a pout. “You. What. You?”

It’s – Steve’s done this whole song and dance with half the girls in his age group in Hawkins, rarely ever felt this buzzing under his skin. The desperate urge to claw his way into Eddie’s chest is burning him. That’s…not the usual reaction he gets when he kisses someone.

“What the hell, Harrington? What the fuck?”

And like… okay. So. He’s had crushes before. He’s been in fucking love before and he fucking knows what it feels like and he knows what it means when someone looks at you that way that Eddie looks at him and.

“Fuck, uh… Shit, sorry man. Yeah. Should have, uh…whoops?”

“Whoops?”

Eddie’s on his feet then, his limbs akimbo as he throws his arms out, gesturing vaguely in Steve’s direction, looking at Steve like he’s grown like, three extra heads. Which. Okay so maybe he could have done better at like, explaining what the fuck he was doing but Eddie was so fucking hot when he got really in the zone with some rant or other and Steve’s been like, waiting for him.

“You can’t just go around kissing people, man!”

“I thought you were gay!” Steve says, like that explains a damn fucking thing, and Eddie whirls on him, wild eyed, like Steve’s just shouted some tightly kept secret to the world and… yeah. Alright. Fair.

“I thought you were the straightest fucking dude in America, Steve, what the fuck?”

“Oh,” Steve says, because that, yeah. That tracks. Okay. So. Yeah, he can work with this. 

He runs a jittery hand through his air, glances up at Eddie through a few strands that cut loose from the hairspray. “Yeah uh, so I guess like, no? Chicks are like, great but then here you are being so fucking adorable I wanna like, put you in my fucking pocket to keep you safe and like, take you out on a date and, I don’t know, suck your cock or something. Which is.” 

He’s rambling now, doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

“Okay so like I guess I didn’t really think about the ramifications of this before I fucking went for it but I have been thinking about your lips on my lips for way longer than I have been acknowledging to myself and you weren’t fucking doing anything about it and I just thought I could. Do something about it. So um…no. Not. Not straight.” 

Steve imagines, for a moment, Hawkins High jocks fading out of the shadows to beat the shit out of him, bible thumping mothers intent on letting him know his sins will destroy the country and land him straight in hell, his own father telling him he won’t have a fag for a son. Feels really fucking shitty about it for about thirty seconds and then remembers he’s saved the world at least four times and internally tells them all to go fuck themselves. 

“Hey, is there a word for that? Liking both? Do you – fuck, is there like, a handbook? Do you even know? Did – but then you’re – I mean I definitely for sure got the feeling you and Robin have more in common than just being really great at saving the world, also you for sure kissed me back and – holy shit Robin’s gonna be pissed you found out before she did.”

Eddie stares at him in abject horror for about thirty seconds, but it’s not – it’s not judgy, at least, it’s more like Steve looks at Robin when she word vomits. “Jesus H Christ did you just speed run gay panic?” Which – Robin has explained that before and if Eddie knows about it then he probably also is not…not gay.

“I don’t think I’m strictly gay!” Steve says, his voice a little higher than he’d like but Eddie is pacing now, which. Not conducive to more kissing, and it’s literally all Steve wants to be doing right now. “It might not even be dudes in general, I haven’t gotten any further than you!”

“What the fuck, Harrington?” And pacing be damned, Steve hops up and cages Eddie in again, leans forward for a kiss because he’s not, like, saying no, he’s just confused because he didn’t think Steve was into it and kissing will definitely help him figure it out. Only he rolls his head back, away from Steve’s, shoulders and neck rolling back. The rest of him stays, though, and Steve slots his hands on Eddie’s narrow waist and stares at him. 

“I’m like, super into you, Eddie, and unless I’m suddenly really fucking bad at reading signals you’re also into me.”

Eddie leans forward, rolls his forehead against Steve’s. It’s nice. Not as nice as the kissing had been but…yeah, he’s cool with this. Eddie huffs out a breath of laughter, a self-deprecating little chortle that Steve recognizes and wants to dash away. “I’ve been trying really hard not to throw those signals. Just. Just so you know.”

“You’re really bad at it,” Steve tells him, fingers digging a bit into his side now, his left hand sliding towards Eddie’s back, and he doesn’t really think about it when he exerts a bit of force to drag Eddie a little closer. “To be like, fully clear here. I’m not… I haven’t been misreading, correct?”

“Fuck,” Eddie says, those wide dark eyes holding Steve’s. “This is insane. People don’t just wake up one day and go ‘hey I’m actually totally attracted to my own gender and I have literally zero bad feelings about that’ – people kill themselves about it.”

“Nearly died enough times to know I don’t care for it,” Steve tells him, and he really, really wants to fucking kiss him again but probably Eddie needs a second. “Listen, do you like me or not, because if not I am seriously overstepping right now and I don’t actually want to make this weird.”

“This is so fucking weird, man,” Eddie says but then he’s curling his fingers into the end of Steve’s shirt and fisting it there before Steve has a chance to draw back and respect his boundaries, like he’s holding himself back from more but not quite ready to let go. Steve follows his lead. “Did Robin say something?”

“Robin has been literally zero help,” Steve admits, because she really has been fucking useless and cagey and completely unwilling to give him any idea if this whole thing is reciprocated or just a fully fucking unrequited crush. “I am actually pretty emotionally intelligent, so I figured…” God he’s giving Steve that look. Again. “Vibes were there.”

“Vibes.” Eddie says, like he wants to bash his brains in. “You… you just threw all caution to the wind on fucking vibes.”

“Vibes are a thing!”

Eddie curls the hand not already fisting in Steve’s shirt around his waist, his long fingers catching at the stripe of skin exposed by the pull of his shirt. Every thought in Steve’s head feels like it’s centered right there, where he can feel Eddie’s rings warm against his skin.

Steve is like, 97.3 percent certain at this point that he hasn’t just ruined a decently important friendship, and he really, really does want to return to that zenith of his tongue in Eddie’s mouth, so he rolls his head again, nosing at Eddie’s cheek, reaching for his jaw.

Eddie shoves him back – slowly, regretfully almost. 

“Give me a fucking second, Harrington.”

“Sure. Yeah.” 

Even as Eddie goes back to pacing Steve feels good about this. Eddie Munson is probably a lot more accepting of things than most of the assholes in Hawkins but he has yet to tell Steve to go fuck himself and he seems more…overwhelmed than anything else. Surprised. He had just admitted he thought Steve didn’t go for that thing. Had he thought about it, beyond a passing ‘Steve the Hair Harrington digs the ladies’?

Jesus. He’s so fucking embarrassing. Even in his own goddamn brain.

Eddie whirls on him, opens his mouth. Shuts it and takes a few pointed steps further away from Steve. Steve very much hates that, but – time. Space. He can manage that. He takes the opportunity to enjoy the pull of Eddie’s jeans over his ass. 

Holy shit, Steve thinks to himself as he ogles the other man, holy shit he’s so very much not straight and it’s taking every ounce of willpower to give Eddie his fucking second. 

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Eddie says, and it’s probably aimed at Steve even though he still hasn’t actually turned back to look at him again. “You fully understand that what you just did screams absolute lunatic, right?”

“The – which part, exactly?”

“Steve, what if I wasn’t gay?”

It’s – kind of a sad question, if he’s being honest, because he’s suspected he likes dudes for maybe two weeks, even if it’s been nagging at him for literal months now, but he’s been that shitty kid who called people queer like it was the dirtiest word in the book, and he’s well aware at this point how fucking scary it is for anyone who is the least bit not ‘normal’ by societies standards. Especially if it’s actually true.

“I mean, I assume you’d probably give me a lot of shit and I would spend a good month too mortified to look at you before you let me off the hook?” But that question gets a little closer to the heart of it, the one thing Steve’s still a little worried about. “But…you are?”

“How the fuck did you even know?”

“The vibes!” He wiggles his fingers at that, widens his eyes like that will help Eddie understand. “And, you know. The general feeling every time you look at me like you’re half a second from eating me alive.”

“I do not!” Eddie says, a little scandalized, a little like he’s been caught out. 

“You totally do. You have…very expressive eyes.” This is new. Just balls to the wall flaying honesty, right off the bat, no hiding behind a slick smile and a clever little wink. What even is flirting, Steve thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I fully thought you were gonna bend me over a table at Gary’s party last weekend.”

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie says, only he’s still not denying it, and he’s turning those same round shining eyes on Steve and – yeah. That is not a platonic fucking look. “I’m gonna take, like, three steps towards you right now. Can you. Not fucking attack me when I get there?”

“Yeah. Sure. Totally.” Robin and Nancy once ganged up on him to tell him he was basically a golden retriever in human form, and he feels every inch one as Eddie takes long, measured steps towards him. If he had a tail he’d be wagging it so fucking hard his ass would be wiggling. 

“Full disclosure,” Eddie tells him at a step and a half in. “I was actually thinking about getting on my knees and sucking you off until your soul left your body, at Gary’s party, last weekend.” Steve bites his lip, doesn’t say a word, ignores the heat thrumming in his veins. “Don’t you dare kiss me right now, Harrington,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that is very fucking interesting and Steve would like to explore more.

“Yep. Hands and lips to myself. Gotcha.”

“I also had a massive panic attack about it like five minutes later because you’re the best person I know and I will be fully, absolutely destroyed if I lose you, so. Before I set myself adrift here, are you sure you have a single fucking clue what you’re getting yourself into?”

“See, that’s the thing!” Steve points, just as Eddie takes another step, so his finger ends up right in Eddie’s face and he’s eyeing it like he might just pop it into his mouth. In for a penny… “You got really mad at me when you thought I was avoiding you, and I very much, totally was because I have like, two age appropriate friends and figuring out one of them might be the love of my life threw me for a fucking loop.” Too soon, way too fucking soon, he was supposed to like, at least get Eddie in his bed before he admitted that. “So. I’ve already had that crisis and I know I lied and told you it was nothing but that’s. What that was.”

The look shifts. Eddie’s eyes were already wide, so his expression doesn’t change all that much, but his eyes get a little glassy and the dimple in his cheek twitches. 

“Whoops,” Steve repeats and Eddie gathers up the hand Steve still has between them, guiding the arm down towards Steve’s side, lacing their fingers up together as he gets close enough Steve can feel his breath on his cheek.

“You’re an actual lunatic,” Eddie tells him, but he’s leaning in close, now, curling a hand around Steve’s neck. “Whoops, he says,” and Eddie shakes his head fondly, close enough that the tip of his nose swipes across Steve’s with the movement. “How long?”

“We’re still not kissing, right?” Steve asks, just to clarify, and Eddie smiles, shakes his head. “Yep. Still good with that. Sure. How long what?”

“Don’t play dumb, princess.”

“I mean – are you asking about me? Are you asking about me knowing about you? Are you asking about attraction, or feelings, or…”

“Sure,” Eddie says, and Steve supposes he walked himself into that. He’s still – Steve could count individual lashes dashed across Eddie’s eyelids, he’s so close. 

“Yeah. Alright. Me? Been trying to sort it out for a while, I think, since Vecna. For sure? Two weeks ago, when you made me come watch your campaign finale, or whatever.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with interest, and Steve can see him searching for a specific moment, but it hadn’t been a specific moment, it had been an amalgamation of the last seven months of his life, and watching Eddie in his element, threading together a sweeping close to a tale he’s been working on for a full year, seeing the kids delighted faces, thinking about all the shit they’d been through and all the terrible things they’ve seen, it had all clicked into place. “You? I didn’t know, know. Just. Robin’s always saying there are signs, if you look for them. I hoped. I was looking for them.” 

Had to talk himself into and out of reading into signs multiple times, honestly. 

“I had some very confusing boners before I understood them, so I can’t really pinpoint that one, but a while,” and Eddie’s lips curl up, which is nice. It’s one of his favorite things to do, making Eddie smile like that. “The… I liked you from the start, is the thing, so there isn’t just a single moment but… you remember that night we got up on the roof of the van and got way too fucking high?”

“You couldn’t find the Big Dipper,” Eddie recalls fondly. 

“Yeah, well, you were right there next to me, being all freakishly smart about constellations and looking at me and when you told me about your mom I wanted to just – tear the whole fucking world apart for you. So.”

“So,” Eddie says, and his voice has gone whisper soft and his breath is fanning across Steve’s face and his eyes are big and brown and soft at the edges.

“We’re still doing the no kissing part, right?”

Eddie hums. Tilts his head to the side just a bit, and his nose stripes across Steve’s cheek. “I could probably be persuaded otherwise.”

It’s – he’s –

“If I admit the panic might be coming on now, will you change your mind?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cool. I’m very chill about this.”

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is so fucking soft, and his fingers are skittering up the side of Steve’s arm. 

“Freaking out a little bit. Don’t – you can stay here, though.”

“I’ll stay here as long as you need.”

“While we’re here, you could – I mean I know I said I clocked you pretty easily but if you wanted, I would definitely be okay hearing about – how. How that happened.”

Eddie’s eyes flit up, hold Steve’s. “You lying about anxiety to get me to tell you my dirty secrets?”

“I’m not that smart,” Steve tells him, and Eddie’s smile tilts up at the corners.

[korizzybee]

Imagine being Jake Sully’s and Neytiri’s adopted daughter, child of someone who was an old friend of Jake’s:

Info: reader’s mom’s avatar had darkskin black features (Afro hair + dark eyes + dark blue skin) so reader also has those features, reader has an Jamaican accent, reader is Navi Avatar hybrid and has 5 fingers and eyebrows, reader is 13 years old

Boom your mom was 5 years old when she moved from Jamaica to North America, she and Jake became childhood friends (more like they became soul siblings)

The same day the RDA recruited Jake, they recruited your mother too

She also spends time observing the Navi and learning their ways with Jake, but Tsu’Tey was her teacher instead

As she lives there for months, she and Tsu’Tey fall in love and mate at the tree of spirits (JAKE N NEYTIRI DUUUUPE)

She and Neytiri actually became pregnant at the same time, literally shortly after they both mate with their men at the spirit trees

Your dad dies during the war yada yada yada, they win and skip boring stuff

For some reason when Neytiri has her baby, your mother is unable to give birth to you and she remains pregnant for 2 more years

The pregnancy drains her energy, making her look even skinnier and her skin color fade as her cheeks become hollow

When she finally gives birth and before she dies she whispers a name that’s a mixture between her’s and Tsu’Tey’s

Neytiri holds your small crying form silently shushing you while Jake cries over your mom’s dead body, she was like an older sister to him

Jake adopts you and when you’re old enough he starts teaching you about your human culture as it was a big part of your mother’s life and she loved her culture more than anything

This leads him to also explaining why you’re different from all the other Omaticaya, but he also explains it’s not a bad thing

You growing up with mixing your life with both your Navi and Jamaican cultures

You are the closest to Neteyam, he’s SOOOOO protective over you (you are his favorite shhhh don’t tell Lo’ak)

Since you’re a lot shorter than your older siblings, you often get carried by them

Jake teaching you so much about humans, pop culture references, music tastes n everything!!!! (Girl you literally take inspiration from his teachings and make your own clothing style out of Navi clothes)

Neytiri making you the most beautiful song cord ever about the love story of your mom and Tsu’Tey and your birth

You and Kiri bonding over both being adopted

You and Tuk are so goofy together, always making Neytiri laugh n shi

You two also bond over being the babies of the family

You and Lo’ak always playing tag in the forest

You immediately loved spider when you all first met him as little kids, (I mean, your mom was once human so you didn’t hate them at all)

ALWAYS wearing your mother’s Na’vi and human hair pieces and your father’s necklaces

Jake teaching you how to fight the human way because your mom was better than everyone in the RDA at that

Going to the Lab with Kiri to see videos of your moms together (they also grew to be close friends and would sometimes just make videos of them being stupid together)

Jake and Neytiri are the only ones allowed to do your hair (your mom taught them how to take care of Afro hair once), they make sure your hair is always healthy

You look so much like your mom but you get your smile, eye shape, and bodily markings from Tsu’Tey

When you can’t sleep, Jake would tell you his childhood memories about your mom

You’re a very spiritual child, always talking with a calm voice, you’re a little shy and always have a good opinion on everyone (girl while Neteyam finna future clan leader, you’re the future Tsahik)

Boom Quaritch bitch ass shows back up (YALL IM SORRY BUT HIS AVATAR IS SO FINEEEEE) and y’all have to flee

You have your own Ikran and she’s named after your mother (let’s just call her Irie)

Y’all make it to the lands of the Metkayina and Ronal starts hating on y’all for being different then she points out how your hair and looks over all are different from your family’s

Neytiri hissing at her as Neteyam and puts you behind him side eyeing Ronal, Jake defending your looks (W DAD)

Y’all get to live among the clan and lowkey….Rotxo he kind of crushing on you I mean not tryna be that one writer butttt uhhh you are the prettiest member of your family (behind Neytiri no one beats her)

You and Rotxo lowkey be flirting with your eyes, giving each other shy looks and blushing like middle schoolers

BUT ANYWAYS THAT’S IT FOR PART 1 IMA DO A PART 2 (this has been marinating in my drafts for months)

[bitchesgetriches]

On poverty:

Starting from nothing

How To Start at Rock Bottom: Welfare Programs and the Social Safety Net

How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Ask the Bitches: “Is It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?“

Understanding why people are poor

It’s More Expensive to Be Poor Than to Be Rich

Why Are Poor People Poor and Rich People Rich?

On Financial Discipline, Generational Poverty, and Marshmallows

Bitchtastic Book Review: Hand to Mouth by Linda Tirado

Is Gentrification Just Artisanal, Small-Batch Displacement of the Poor?

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights

Developing compassion for poor people

The Latte Factor, Poor Shaming, and Economic Compassion

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Stop Myself from Judging Homeless People?“

The Subjectivity of Wealth, Or: Don’t Tell Me What’s Expensive

A Little Princess: Intersectional Feminist Masterpiece?

If You Can’t Afford to Tip 20%, You Can’t Afford to Dine Out

Correcting income inequality

1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

One Reason Women Make Less Money? They’re Afraid of Being Raped and Killed.

Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make All Our Lives Better

Are Unions Good or Bad?

On intersectional social issues:

Reproductive rights

On Pulling Weeds and Fighting Back: How (and Why) to Protect Abortion Rights

How To Get an Abortion

Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor

You Don’t Have to Have Kids

Gender equality

1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

The Pink Tax, Or: How I Learned to Love Smelling Like “Bearglove”

Our Single Best Piece of Advice for Women (and Men) on International Women’s Day

Bitchtastic Book Review: The Feminist Financial Handbook by Brynne Conroy

Sexual Harassment: How to Identify and Fight It in the Workplace

Queer issues

Queer Finance 101: Ten Ways That Sexual and Gender Identity Affect Finances

Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between

Racial justice

The Financial Advantages of Being White

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job

The New Jim Crow, by Michelle Alexander: A Bitchtastic Book Review

Something Is Wrong in Personal Finance. Here’s How To Make It More Inclusive.

The Biggest Threat to Black Wealth Is White Terrorism

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender Inequality

10 Rad Black Money Experts to Follow Right the Hell Now

Youth issues

What We Talk About When We Talk About Student Loans

The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships

Ask the Bitches: “I Just Turned 18 and My Parents Are Kicking Me Out. How Do I Brace Myself?”

Identifying and combatting abuse

When Money is the Weapon: Understanding Intimate Partner Financial Abuse

Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Say ‘No’ When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?”

Ask the Bitches: I Was Guilted Into Caring for a Sick, Abusive Parent. Now What?

On mental health:

Understanding mental health issues

How Mental Health Affects Your Finances

Stop Recommending Therapy Like It’s a Magic Bean That’ll Grow Me a Beanstalk to Neurotypicaltown

Bitchtastic Book Review: Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos and Your Big Brain

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

Coping with mental health issues

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Self-Care

My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

On saving the planet:

Changing the system

Don’t Boo, Vote: If You Don’t Vote, No One Can Hear You Scream

Ethical Consumption: How to Pollute the Planet and Exploit Labor Slightly Less

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

Season 1, Episode 4: “Capitalism Is Working for Me. So How Could I Hate It?”

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender Inequality

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You Deserve Cheap Toilet Paper, You Beautiful Fucking Moon Goddess

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

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You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

[z3nitsusgf]

proserpina 

homelander x reader

CW: dark!soulmate au, possesive/obsessive behavior, stalking, yandere tenancies, fem reader, angst(?), homelander needs his own warning bruh 

“You’ve seen his cynical mind, the possessive soul he bears, you know his cruelty knows no bounds. But at this moment, he is simply a broken man who craves your affection so desperately it’s almost pathetic.”

Proserpina (Roman mythology): Proserpina, daughter of Jupiter and Ceres, goddess of fertility, was kidnapped by Pluto, king of the underworld, who fell in love with her after seeing her picking flowers.

—

You remember the first time anyone, other than your parents, ever saw your soulmate mark.

You were 16, still hanging out with friends at the park like a normal kid. The new tattooed ink on your wrist was a mystifying wonder to everyone your age. The way it appears overnight, rising to the surface of your skin like a beautiful art piece. Everyone wanted to see each other’s marks and foolishly hope one of the other kids was theirs to call home.

Your parents told you not to show anyone, that it was… too much for them to handle.

“Let us see yours,” they said, crooked teeth and flushed dirty faces crowded your vision, you were all so young still. And of course, you smiled and showed them your arm, letting them crowd around and stare at your binding mark.

You remember the sliver of proudness that beamed in your chest at their awed silence. The way they gaped at the motherland eagle, the ridges of its wings, and the sharpness of its beak.

Anyone would recognize the symbol, even at your age, it was something that you could identify. Even though he was a newly formed hero, still on the brink of coming out from Vought, you all knew what it represented. Even though he was a bit older than you, even though he was a powerful fucking supe - you were proud in that moment.

You don’t exactly remember when, but sometime after that people started to look at you differently.

You weren’t you anymore, you were Homelander’s soulmate. A way to get in with their favorite superheroes, a way to get cash, a way to get attention.  

-

Of course, you’ve seen him, everyone has seen him. He’s like Santa or Jesus, an integral part of America. It only got worse as you grew up. Especially once he became number one, it was like a flashbang - you were bombarded with this new wave of emotions and feelings every time you looked at his face on a screen. It wasn’t a welling of love or adoration, but something more acrid.

People always asked you what it was like being Homelander’s soulmate despite the fact you’d never actually met the guy. They were always in your face, blabbering about how lucky you were. Prodding with their questions as if they were a part of it all.

“That must be so exciting!” Or “You must be so happy to have Homelander as your soulmate!”

It was nauseating.

You grew up with his patriotic ass plastered on every billboard and poster in New York, his movies, his comics, his interviews - always on screen. You could recount his fucking life story and you’d never even met him. You were 110% sure no one asked Homelander what he thought about his soulmate.

Not to mention your parents, god, they couldn’t get enough of it. They were so fucking happy, so fucking ecstatic that you were Homelander’s soulmate. How much rep you’d get, how much screen time, the privileges they said. His name left everyone’s mouths like he was their god.

So why didn’t you feel the rush of excitement? Why did you feel dread and damnation creeping up your spine every time you turned on the TV and he was there?

Probably because you’ve seen the horror stories. The awful dailies on the news where a supe “accidentally” killed their soulmate. Gruesome scenes of split spines, shattered bones, piles of ash and guts. Of course, people always said you had nothing to worry about. It was Homelander, he’d never do anything like that. But you always felt the fear linger when he did public speeches.

-

Unfortunately for the world, Vought had made it their mission to find every supe’s soulmate and “unite” them as one.

It’s a bunch of corporate media bullshit.

But people want to see their favorite heroes in a humble light, settled down, and cozied up with their “one true love”. Of course, Vought wouldn’t miss an opportunity to milk it, snagging supe’s soulmates left and right like they’re just stray dogs on the street.

It was only a matter of time before they found you. To be honest, you’re surprised they haven’t gotten to you sooner, that they left you alone to lead a “normal” life. After all, you’re The Homelander’s soulmate - that means a lot more than you thought it ever could.

Though you suppose you didn’t make it easy for them. You never posted about it online, you refrained from telling new people that you met, and you tried to cover it up all the time.

But all it really takes is some nosey neighbor or ex-friend from high school to rat you out.

And suddenly you’re being dragged to the the Seven tower, hounded by Vought employees and a perky assistant who won’t shut the fuck up.

Alice? Amanda? No wait- Ashley, blabbers away to you about how fortunate they are that they found you. She’s chipper as a chipmunk, asking you all kinds of questions that make your skin crawl, tapping away at her screen like you’re just another product ready to be shipped out. Are you single? Do you have any kids? What’s your medical history? Religious preference? Who should we contact in case of an emergency?

“He’s going to be so happy! I know it’s gonna be great.” She practically squeals in excitement, gripping the tablet between her fingers as you two ride the elevator up to the 99th floor, a sinking feeling pooling in your stomach.

She turns to you with a wide gummy smile,  “Just make sure not to say anything bad or to upset him, ya know?”

You nod slowly lips pursing, “Like what?”

“Oh you know, asking for pictures or calling him anything other than Homelander or sir.”

You stare at her blankly, “Why would he be upset by that?”

She blanches just a bit, you see her look away. Probably thinking about every little thing that could go wrong. Huffing out a laugh she says, “Nothing, nevermind. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

The elevator doors open and you’re ushered into a hallway, making your way in front of a big iron door. Their conference room.

The assistant turns to give you one last forced smile before the iron is sliding open, inside is all of the seven, Homelander at the end of the table. It’s all more imposing than you thought it would be. The sunlight streams in through the big glass windows, reflecting against the mirrored V-shape table. 

You see everyone in their full glory. A-train, Queen Maeve, and Starlight is to the right. To the left Black Noir, The Deep, and a pair of floating glasses - Translucent. Most of them don’t even pay you any mind, hardly even looking up at you and focusing their attention elsewhere. You feel as though you’ve interrupted something. 

“Hi, good morning sir! I’ve brought her.” Ashley is flashing a bright smile, her hand pushing your lower back so you move closer to the supe. 

Homelander gives a slow nod, rounding the edge of the table, his hands behind his back as his cape sways with each step. He’s much taller in real life, looming over you. You decide to just take the plunge, sticking out your slightly trembling hand, 

“Hi Homelander, sir, I’m-” 

He snatches your wrist, it scares you more than you’d like to admit and you have to force the shriek from your throat down. Eyes going wide as he holds your wrist between his forefingers. His gloved thumb brushes over you skin, pushing up the sleeve of your sweater to reveal your his mark, staring down at it with bright clear eyes. You feel the leather of his glove brushing over your skin, it makes a dark feeling punch your gut.

You’d think after all this time he’d be happy, that his signature bright shining smile would spread across his face, maybe he’d tell you how happy he was or how excited. Instead, his brows furrow and his jaw clenches. 

“Are you a supe?” He mumbles, eyes roaming over your body with a piqued interest that borders on perturbed fascination. You shake your head,

“N-no, sir.” He makes a sound, deep in his chest and you wince at the tightening in your hand. You try to pull back but he doesn’t let go. Panic starts to ebb up your chest, settling into your blood. You feel trapped. He’s nothing like the charismatic friendly man you’ve seen in interviews. 

Thick gloved fingers curl around the flesh of your wrist, pressing the carpal bone. He could snap your entire arm and shatter each bone with just a squeeze. Hell, he could leave you paralyzed just for fun. You feel your pulse starting to pick up, you’re entirely sure he can feel the rush of adrenaline and dopamine in your system.

You’ve seen what he’s capable of. When you had this fascination with him and you wanted to know more, you’ve seen the liveleak videos of him slaughtering people, melting them with his eyes till they were nothing but a pile of flesh and guts. You’ve read the reddit posts and forums about interactions people have had with him, his pretentious and snarky comments that made even government officials weep. It made you fucking sick.

So when he doesn’t let up, when he just stares like he wants to burn a hole though your head, you feel yourself ready to crumple and accept your fate. Maybe this was Vought’s plan all along, to bring you here to be disposed of. You let out a tiny whimper, you feel the bones starting to shift uneasily inside your wrist. 

“Homelander.“ Queen Maeve warns, the rest of the seven watching in tempt silence, more amused than anything. There’s a beat of rigid silence and you’re positive he’s going to just snap it then and there. But the supe rolls his eyes and drops your wrist like hot garbage, practically throwing it back at your chest.

You cradle your hand, massaging the soft bruising tissue as you stare wide-eyed at him. He glared down at you, the disgust prominent in his baby blues but there’s also a hint of something else, you can’t place your finger on it but it makes you want to hide away in the earth.

“Fucking pathetic.” Homelander sneers, turning on his heel and walking to the large window that overlooks the city. You gape, pushing back the tears that threaten to overflow on your waterline, head spinning as you feel everyone stare at you. In pity? In disgust? You don’t really care anymore.

Homelander is your soulmate and he’s nothing like you imagined. He’s a loaded gun in your face, waiting for the trigger to be pulled at any second and blow your brains against the concrete.

“Well, that was lovely but,” Ashley is ushering you out the sliding iron doors with a peppy smile, “The seven are extremely busy, we should let them get back to work!”

The last thing you see is the group of supe’s sitting in their seats and Homelander has his back to them all.

Ashley walks with you down the long hallway, blabbering about how, “He was just in a bad mood, he’s actually really nice.”

But you can’t help but clench your jaw, your heart pounds in your chest and you feel as though you’ll sink into the ground at any second. The way he stared, the way he gripped your wrist, he didn’t feel like how you thought he would. There were no sparks or honey-sweet emotions, shit you at least thought he’d give you a smile.

The entire elevator ride down the peppy assistant is telling you how things will be from now on. It makes you wanna claw at your face.

“Oh, it’ll be so cute! Everyone is going to love you, I’m sure of it!” She’s so damn loud and snippy you want to smash your head on the mirrored edge of the elevator.  She won’t shut up about PR, and how they’re going to manage your socials, and put you on the red carpet - right next to your soulmate. 

You get this horrible vision of you standing next to him, getting bombarded by paparazzi and having to cuddle up with him for life. You almost throw up in the elevator. 

“Can I go home?” You cut her off, not giving a damn if it’s rude or awkward.

She balks, gaping at you with wide eyes. She grips her tablet between chippy-painted fingers, you think for a moment she’ll tell you no and that you’re not allowed to leave. But she calms herself, biting the inside of your cheek and says, “Of course! A driver will take you home.” 

“Nah, it’s alright,” The doors open and you’re already making your way out to the front entrance, “I’ll walk home.” 

You live all the way in Brooklyn, but you don’t give a rats ass. You don’t give Ashley the chance to debate it, speed-walking out of Vought and onto the Manhattan sidewalk. A buzzing fills your ears, like flies droning in a bottle. You heave, clenching your fists so hard the nails dig into your palms. You have this horrible feeling you’re still being watched. 

By the time you make it to your apartment it’s nighttime and you’re exhausted. You’ve ignored every call from your parents and friends, especially the unknown ID that you know is Vought. You try not the cry in the shower, gripping the edge of the bath and willing yourself to breathe evenly. Nothing happened yet, so why are you so upset?

-

The days don’t get any easier. You have this constant feeling that you’re watched, as if you’re under a microscope. You’re surprised Vought hasn’t kicked down your door yet. You still ignore their calls, trying to return to normalcy. 

But you’re a fool to think you could ever rid yourself of him. 

You swear you catch glimpses of him, wispy mirages of him in the corner of your eye. The flash of his cape or a glowing reflection in your window, it makes you  like feel like the lining of your stomach is being lifted, pulled up and apart from your skin and peeled away from your body inside of you. It makes for something brutal - violent, punch through and shred at your gut. 

You start noticing that all your friends are suddenly pulling away. Leaving you in the wind as they look at you with sad pitiful eyes, jumping away when you get too close. Some of them go missing entirely, you can’t outright accuse Homelander of anything - but you know he’s responsible.

He follows you everywhere like a shadow. A slinking ghost, that’s imbedded so deeply within your soul you can never rid yourself of him. Manifesting into this world, through pure unadulterated rage. Born from the deep bone marrow sorrow that exists within everyone. Gliding through this plane like a dreadful curse, seeping into your skin, hollowing out what little is left of you. Clinging like a leeched bastard, rows of teeth digging into faithful necks, marred from years of trusting. 

Maybe the world is cruel. Giving you such a dangerous soulmate. 

-

You rummage around your kitchen, hair still dripping down your nape from your shower and onto your soft PJ’s. People chatter and scuttle about outside, faint car horns and the buzz of tipped streetlights are your only source of comfort. You reach for a mug in your cabinet, you swear you hear a whooshing sound behind you, but when you turn to look nothing is there. You’re too jumpy, too nerve-wrecked and scared over nothing-

“Nice place.”

You let out a scream, the mug in your hands sliding out onto the tiled floor. It shatters around your bare feet and you spin around to see who’s inside your apartment. There stands the number one superhero in all of his glory, the suit a vivid contrast to your beige-colored walls. He’s here, just meandering through your apartment like it’s a walk in the park.

He gives a muted laugh at your reaction, his hands tucked behind his back and covered by the flag. The outline of him in the fluorescent kitchen light makes him look much more demeaning, more intimidating.

Homelander can hear your heartbeat, the heavy pumping against its fleshy walls as you tremble. You can’t walk backwards without stepping on glass, so you wait with a bated breath to see what he has to say. He cocks his head to the side, narrowing his eyes and looking you up and down like you’re just a slab of meat on the deli counter, and to him you probably are. Nothing but a sack of flesh and bones, not even a supe capable enough to keep with him.

“Homelander- sir,” Always so respectful, even to a fault. 

“I- what are you doing here.” You wish you could say you weren’t absolutely terrified of him. He’s the world’s greatest hero, your soulmate after all. Aren’t you supposed to feel the most connection with him? The safest?

You don’t. There’s something not right about the way he stares, like he can’t tell if he wants to crush your head between his palms or just crumple onto your couch like he owns the place.

“Dropped your cup there,” He completely ignores your question, stepping closer to you. You can hear the crunch of porcelain under his boots.

“Spooked ya did I?” You gulp, staring at the blue and red super suit, he’s got that signature smirk on his jaw that he projects onto the public. The fake grin he plasters on when he wants to appear friendly and charming.

How did he get into your apartment? Why is he in your apartment?

You gape at him, breath hitching as you stare at him under the glow of your shitty kitchen light. The shimmer of blonde starlight strands, his eyes nearly glowing like crystal. 

“How did you-“

He steps forward, breaching your personal space and his hands unfurl from their position behind his back.

“Ya know, I think you and I got off on the wrong arm.” He says it jokingly like he didn’t subtly threaten to snap your wrist in front of the seven simply because you existed. That he didn't call you fucking pathetic when you first met.

He’s too close, almost chest to chest with you. You can smell his cologne, a woody musky scent, masculine through and through. You’re sure it’s some stupidly expensive type that the public can’t even get their hands on. The shattered shards of porcelain lay at your feet, and there’s no debate in your mind - you could never outrun him even if you tried.

“What do you want?”

His smile falters just a smidge, you could only tell if you stared hard enough at his mouth to see the edges twitch downward. He’s getting impatient with your apprehension, your refusal to see him.

"Ashley told me you refused to have a driver take you home and that you’ve been ignoring our calls.” He plasters on the fake grin like it’s nothing, like it’s an accessory. It’s meant to be disarming, but there’s a certain feral gleam to his features that makes you tense in uncertainty.  

Fucking Ashley, of course she told him. 

You swallow hard, you don’t know how to read him, you don’t know what will work with him yet. He’s untouchable and you’re a weak human. 

“Yes, I did.” 

“Why’s that?” He hums, hands coming out to glide up your biceps. It makes an unruly shiver spark up your spine. He revels in it, this power trip - it makes him want to flutter his eyes closed and inhale the scent of fear like a fucking dog. You’re not what he was expecting, you’re better. 

“I just, just thought that-” You sputter and choke on your words, how are you supposed to tell him you don’t want any of this? That all you’re life you’ve felt like this was all some big joke, a cruel prank from the universe?

Your heart pounds in your chest, so hard it makes it ache and you think you’ll pass out from the tenseness around you. 

His gloved palm comes up to cup around your jaw, thumb sweeping across your cheek. It’s meant to be comforting, sweet. But all you can think is how easy it would be for him to snap your neck. 

“I can’t have my girl being unsafe, I just won’t allow that.” 

You look up at him with wide glassy eyes, he can tell you’re petrified of him and he loves it. 

“No more of this ‘I can do it myself’ shit, yeah? You’re gonna let me take care of you.” He says it so softly you’d almost blow past his demeaning comment, the small lifting smile on his face setting it in stone. 

You nod, lip quivering as you realize the full scope of your situation. He knows you now, knows where you live, where you work - you’re never going to get away from him. He knows all of your family and friends, god. 

You choke on a sob, trying so hard to bury it before he sees. Homelander shushes you, his hand giving you a warning squeeze. There’s barely any strength, any effort, put into it. You know what it means though. He inhales deeply, a sigh escaping his parted mouth and he looks down at you. Blown pupils engulfed in swirling, sparkling azure, so magnificent as it ebbs and flows with his amusement.

“You and I, we’re going to be something special.” 

- 

There’s something wrong with your soulmate.

You’d thought that because it was America’s greatest superhero, he’d be all the glorious bullshit you’d seen throughout your life, but he’s not. Homelander, John, whatever he is - isn’t normal. And you don’t mean in the “Wow he’s a supe he’s stronger than me!” kinda way, but he’s wrong, your connection is wrong, it doesn’t feel right.

It’s not like how your parents described it to you, with bursts of passionate color and emotions, blooming with this fire of love you can’t snuff out. No, it feels off, like you’ve been dropped in a pit of vipers waiting to strike, waiting for them to ball around your neck and ankles till you suffocate. An unease runs through you, slithering up your spine when he’s around. 

He doesn’t try to appeal to you, he doesn’t try to hide it or cover it up. Why should he? You’re his soulmate.

Of course, he knows what it means. He has his own mark, annoyingly enough. The etched black ink on his wrist made him curl his lip in disgust, why did he need a soulmate? He was the fucking Homelander.

But he can’t help the flurry in his heart at the thought of this binding mark. Soulmates are more than just lovers, they’re your entire being, the people that know you to your core and still love you. Or at least, that was what Vought taught him growing up. 

Even if you don’t love him now, you will soon enough. You will because he doesn’t know how to handle it if you don’t. 

Homelander looks past the fact you’re not a supe, that can be changed. He’s enamored by you and your menial life, what did you even do before him? He wants to flood your entire existence until all you know is him. 

- 

Your life is steadily taken over, flipped, and ripped apart by your soulmate as he invades every inch of your small little being. 

You don’t have an apartment anyone, you share one with him in the tower. You don’t eat alone, dress alone, sleep alone. You’re never by yourself anymore, he’s always hovering, even when he’s not around you’re guarded in the tower like a captured princess. 

Homelander comes home to you everyday, sometimes he just talks and talks and talks. Making up for years of being apart. He asks you all types of questions, “What was your childhood like?” and “Did you ever fall in love before me?” All the while he mooches off you like some needy cat, you never thought he’d be the physical type, but you guess now it makes sense. 

-

He comes home in a mood, unsurprisingly. Ranting and raving about government officials and his “stupid teammates”, throwing his gloves onto the couch as he slips his way onto your lap.

You’ve done nothing but ponder while he’s been away. Pushing around stupid little decorations in his apartment, arranging and rearranging them till you got sick. You try to make conversation with the others but they keep their distance.

Homelander doesn’t even ask before he’s laying his head on your lap, kicking his legs up and just muttering about his day. You’ve learned to just coddle him, knowing it’s better than him taking his stress out on you in other ways.

So you do what he craves, slipping your fingers through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp, humming at his words and pretending you’re sympathetic to his worries.

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve any of it.” You mumble, so numb to the feeling in your chest you think you almost believe it.

He sighs contently, “I know, it’s just- so hard. Everyone puts this weight on my shoulders and I can’t handle it.”

You frown, smoothing your palms over his cheek. There’s a bittersweetness on your tongue, words you know you shouldn’t say.

John preens under your hands, leaning into your hesitant touch with so much depraved neediness you nearly feel bad. You’ve never seen him look so… submissive. He's fragile-looking, with pursed lips and downcast eyes that refuse to look up at you. He rests there, head in your lap like a little boy. You card your fingers through the blonde strands, they’re soft for the most part but you can still feel the hair gel that coats them.

You’ve seen his cynical mind, the possessive soul he bears, you know his cruelty knows no bounds. But at this moment, he is simply a broken man who craves your affection so desperately it’s almost pathetic.

You’ve come to realize that he can’t take care of himself.

He’s vulnerable in a way. Homelander has no capacity to help himself, he’s been taken care of his entire life. By PR, damage control, the doctors in the lab, hell even Madelyn Stilwell. They’ve all written out what he should be and say, they’ve manufactured him since the day he was born. You guess you can't fault him for not knowing how the world really works.

You’re bound to John in a way no one else on earth is, chained to his heart and mind whether you want to be or not.