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rebelfell · 4 months

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writing about going to the gym instead of actually going still counts…right? 2k 18+, MDNI

eddie munson x fem!reader (implied plus-size)

The gym at Eddie’s new apartment complex wasn’t so bad.

It had just undergone a big renovation by the time he moved in, so it still smelled faintly of paint and some of the machines had that protective plastic film over the monitors. It was on the small side, but had enough room for a row of treadmills and ellipticals that faced a big window, looking out on the grassy knoll of the courtyard behind the leasing office.

Eddie never went on them, though. He was mostly there for the weights, following the regime Steve had put him on a couple months prior. It wasn’t as rigorous as the one his friend followed, but it was demanding enough that Eddie needed an occasional break, elbows resting on his knees as he tried to catch his breath and pushed sweaty tendrils of hair from his face.

His shirt was old and ratty with the cutoff sleeves and drooping armholes stretched far beyond their natural elasticity. Truthfully, it did make him look a little douchey. But he also kind of liked the way it showed off his arms, the edges of the tattoos on his ribcage, the tops of his obliques.

Especially now that he actually has obliques.

He’s not yet worked his way up to the full-blown gym-bro attire Steve wears when he’s posting his little thirst traps all over Instagram. The videos are the worst—him planking shirtless or flexing his biceps as he curls a weight or swinging weird giant ropes with his arms.

Eddie’s only filmed himself lifting a few times now. Partly because Steve keeps demanding he send him videos so he can “check his form” but also because…he just looks good, okay?

He never dreamed he’d be the type. Aside from a (very) brief skateboarding phase, his main source of exercise when he was growing up was running from local law enforcement.

Now here he was lifting three days a week, considering adding a fourth.

He was still slacking on cardio—the smoker’s lung capacity really hindered him there. But Steve had suggested they try boxing, and a free pass to hit Harrington certainly held some appeal…

Eddie found he actually kind of liked the gym now. It was quiet and peaceful. It gave him an hour or so to turn his brain off and focus on nothing but counting sets or reps. He felt good when he walked back to his place a little sweaty and sore, feeling like he’d done something.

And he liked it especially when you showed up.

He’d seen you a few times around already, mostly walking with your dog. Or dogs, rather. By his count there were a couple different ones.

There was a Corgi who would stomp his stubby little legs like he was mad at the concrete; and a border collie you liked to take to the dog park and toss a frisbee for him to catch; and an elderly chihuahua he often saw you lift into your arms and carry for the end of his walk when he grew tired and looked up at you sadly with those big, pleading eyes. You were powerless.

Spotting you out and about whenever Eddie was going to get his mail, or taking a walk to stretch his legs after sitting at his computer too long, catching a glimpse of you from his balcony when he sat out there in the morning or evening, had started to become the highlight of his day.

He still had yet to, you know, talk to you.

If he ever had the fortune of walking past while you were out, his words immediately failed. And he couldn’t even count now the number of times he’d walked past the dog park while you were there and wished desperately he had a dog just so he had an excuse to go in and talk to you.

He wondered, regretfully, if you could tell he was a cat guy just seeing the smattering of light hairs all his black clothes attracted like a magnet.

But now you were here. Physically present in the same room as him. Close enough for him to reach out and wrap his hands around you. Looking so fucking delectable in your workout clothes.

Your shape was mostly concealed by a baggy hoodie that just barely covered the roundness of your ass and skimmed the tops of your thick thighs—both of which were only accentuated by the tightness of your black Lycra shorts.

He might have dredged up the nerve to finally say something—even a meekly muttered “hi” would have been an improvement on the nothing he’d been slinging. But your headphones were resting snugly over your ears and he generally took that as a firm sign not to bother people.

They were nice ones, he noted. Not a pair of the obscenely expensive Apple ones Steve liked to wax poetically about, but you’d probably sunk a decent amount into them for the sound quality.

Or maybe they were a gift from your boyfriend, Eddie thought bitterly.

You smiled at him as you passed, giving a little wave that almost made him drop the weight in his hand. Honestly, a broken toe would have been worth it. He tries not to ogle you, honest he does. But he can see you in the mirror as you step up onto the treadmill directly behind him, despite every single one of them being free. All he has to do is tip his head slightly to the side and his view is pristine. He won’t stare, though.

He won’t, he won’t, he won’t.

At least not anymore…

He did his best to concentrate on his workout as you got yourself situated. Absently, he wondered if you were here because you thought you needed to be, and he really hoped that wasn’t the case. Because from where he was sitting, there wasn’t a goddamn thing on your body that needed any improvement.

You don’t seem to be taking it too seriously, though. Starting out at a slow walk, flicking through your phone to choose your music as you amble along. Eventually you must settle on something and set it down before you start to hike up the incline on your machine.

He figures out pretty quickly you're doing one of those “strut” workouts he’s seen floating around, where you increase your speed with the switch of each song.

Except you’re doing more than strutting—you’re performing.

It’s subtle at first. You start out simply walking at a steady pace, but then he catches a couple motions of your arms, a few flips of your head that send your hair flying. In the reflection of your face on the window he can see you’re lip syncing along to the song, your closed fist becoming a microphone for what looks like a long belt.

He bites back his own smile as he watches you, his eyes drawn to your shape in the mirror over and over. It makes him forget what rep he’s on every time, his workout little more than a charade at this point.

As your pace increases, your breathing gets harder and sweat starts to slicken your brow. You pause just long enough to pull off your sweatshirt and drape it over the guard rail. It drags up the bottom of your shirt, revealing a flash of your bare back that sends Eddie reeling.

He can’t help but imagine himself flush behind you, kissing down the delicate curve of your spine, gripping desperately at the meat of your hips and ass, molding them with his hands as he thrusts with abandon and the fronts of his thighs slap wet against the backs of yours. He would beg you to let him go down on you just like this—breathing in the smell of your musk and sweat, tugging down those shorts to bury his face between your thighs until they were trembling like his did on leg day, brushing off your complaints about being too gross or dirty.

He’d show you what dirty really was.

Eddie jolts as the dumbbell he’s holding slips from his clammy palm and he just barely moves his foot in time. It hits the ground with a dull thud, but if you notice you don’t give any indication.

Ears buzzing now, shame radiating at the back of his neck, he set the weight back on the rack and dropped to the floor, twisting into something resembling a yoga pose he saw Nancy post once. The temptation to get on the treadmill next to you is so strong, but he’s afraid it might make you too self-conscious to keep going with your little show.

Plus, he’d probably end up tripping over his own feet and face planting on the machine. Kinda tough to put the moves on a girl when you’ve got a smashed face that’s bleeding like a faucet.

Instead, he drags out his stretching, hoping he can time it right so it won’t seem too weird if he leaves the same time you do. He’s already stayed longer than he normally does, but the promise of finally getting to talk to you is too enticing.

If he was a smarter man, he might have tried thinking of something to actually say if he got the chance, but that’s a whole other issue.

At last, the machine you’re on started to whirr as you lowered the incline to normal and slowed the speed of the belt until it stops completely. Eddie’s chest heaves as he watches, his pulse racing so fast it’s probably going to trigger the smartwatch on his wrist. You catch his eye in the mirror as you wipe down your machine with a disinfectant wipe and his head snaps forward.

Best of all, when you’re done, you tug down your headphones so they rest around your neck.

This is it, he thinks, his heart pounding harder than it ever had during a workout. Now or fucking never.

“So, uhh, how many dogs do you actually have?”

As pick-up lines go, it’s…not great. But it gets you to stop next to him on your way to the door, tilting your head and smiling as you do.

Fuck, you’re pretty.

“What was that?” you ask.

Eddie scrambled. He ran his hand across the nape of his neck, resisting the urge to smack himself in the back of his head. All of a sudden, his body is unbearably hot and he’s never been so embarrassed of his douchey shirt now that your eyes were scanning him up and down.

Wait…were you checking him out?

“I just…I’ve seen you walking them,” he chuckled. “I was wondering how many you have.”

“Oh, none,” you laughed. “It’s kind of a side gig. I walk them for some other people who live here.”

“None of them are yours then?”

“Nah,” you said, sheepishly looking down at the floor and then flicking your gaze back up to meet his, a smile curling across your lips. “I’ve got a cat, though.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson meet cute #gym!eddie #neighbors!au

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disneyprincemuke · 1 month

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just a responsible pet owner * fem!driver

she comes home after a night of drinking, suddenly concerned about what their pets are eating

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: hi ive had this fic idea in my head FOR WEEKS and i think it's so funny so here we are

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

“be careful!” logan scolds as she pushes the door open, stumbling into the door as she opens it.

she kicks her heels off as she waves logan off who’s trailing behind her, arms held out protectively in case she were to fall into one of their shelves.

“i’m fine,” she mutters, slowly walking and swaying further into their apartment. she has her hands held out on both walls of the entryway to steady herself, desperately ignoring the way the room spins and how she’s stepping on her foot every time she walks.

“i hardly believe that. you drank too much, rocky,” logan sighs, scratching his head.

this could have been easier if she’d just agreed to let him carry her back from his car to their apartment. she wouldn’t have had to struggle stumbling everywhere in her heels, knees giving in every couple of steps.

she shakes her head. “i’m fine– oh! my kids! hello, kids!”

she drops to her knees next to the black cat by his feeding bowl, meowing at her as he puts his two front paws on her thigh. “hi, kid. did you miss me?” she grabs both sides of the cat's face, hunching over and pressing kisses to the top of the cat’s head. “i missed you. what are you doing? are you eating?”

“i think he was eating,” logan mutters. he bends over and puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “we should really get you to bed — take off your makeup and drink lots of water. how does that sound?”

she turns around, eyebrows furrowed at him with a frown. “that sounds stupid.”

he lifts his eyebrows. “oh?”

“yeah,” she hums, wrapping her arms around kidnapper, who willingly gets into her lap. “i want to cuddle with my baby.” she rests her cheek on the top of the black cat’s head, then opens her eyes. “is your food even nice?”

shortly, the corgi starts trudging up to her happily, prompting the young girl to squeak and open her arms up to the pup. stubby reciprocates and cuddles into her lap, tail wagging in happiness at her affection.

“dude,” logan repeats himself in a slightly firmer tone. “you need to drink some water and get to bed. at this rate, you’ll fall asleep on the floor.”

“wait,” she mutters, dropping the animals in her hands. she tilts her entire body and rests her head on the wall. “am i even feeding you well? is your food as yummy as you make it out to be?”

logan lets out a soft cry, his arm darting out immediately to grab her wrist before she could grab a kibble from the cat bowl. “that’s cat food.”

“i know,” she says in a whisper, her other hand coming around to tear his grip off her. “i just want to taste their food and make sure they’re eating well.”

if you had told him 5 hours ago that this would be the outcome of their night out, he wouldn’t have believed you. she’d always prided herself in having control over her body when she was drunk, but it seems that she’s just in another dimension tonight. he assumes it’s the 4 cups of margaritas that she downed in 10 minutes before he dragged them out of the club.

“that’s not for you!”

“stop telling me what not to eat! you’re not noah!” she squeaks, turning around to shove him away. “it’s just cat and dog food — i won’t get sick!”

logan throws his head back. “i can’t risk that! noah will kill me if anything happens to you before the race this weekend!”

she lets out a soft scream when he grabs both of her arms, pulling her away from the pet bowls, throwing her head back and resting it on his shoulder. “let me be the pet food police! if they’re not nice, i have to change the brand we’re getting!”

“mate, if they didn’t think it was nice, they wouldn’t be eating it!” logan fights back, pulling her arms back from darting forward to get a taste of their food. “stop trying to try it!”

“fine!” she drops her arms to her side as logan finally lets go of her. she blinks blankly and pouts her bottom lip out. “can i have a glass of water please?”

he stares at her, slightly hesitant. “you’re not going to do anything stupid?”

she shakes her head and drops it slightly, her hair falling down the sides of her face. “i’m thirsty. please?”

“okay,” logan nods, slowly scrambling to get off the floor. “stay here, okay? don’t go anywhere; i’ll help you get to bed after you drink some water.”

but he should have known better than to leave her unattended at that state. he had left for 20 seconds maximum to hurriedly get her a cup of water. when he came back, she’s lying on her stomach, chin in her hand with her elbow propped up against the ground, chewing away on something.

“hey, what the fuck are you eating?” logan screams, putting the cup down on their dining table and rushing over to where she is on the ground. “mate, you’re worse than stubby when he was a puppy! what are you eating?”

she doesn’t have the same urgency. her feet are in the air and she turns to him with doe eyes. “it’s kinda bland.” she looks at kidnapper, lying down innocently next to her. “how do you eat that, mate? it’s got no taste at all.”

she doesn’t spare logan another glance, just turns away and turns to stubby’s bowl. “what about you, tubs? what does your food taste like?”

“stop eating their food! if you’re that hungry, i’ll make you a sandwich!” logan scolds, climbing on her back to pull her away from the pets’ corner. “that’s not your food. stop eating it!”

“i need to see if their food is good food!” she continues to defend herself, pushing her arm forward in hopes that logan would be the first to give up the fight. “please! i’m a concerned pet owner!” she turns her head. “you don’t care for my kids!”

logan rolls his eyes. “yes, i do! i walk stubby every morning we’re home!”

“if you cared for them more, you’d try their food so that we know what we’re feeding them!”

“that’s not the same thing!”

“yes, it is! leave me alone!”

“rocky! pet food is not human food!”

“i just wanna try it!”

“give it up! you’ve tried kidnapper’s food and that’s enough,” logan sighs, dropping himself on the floor next to her. his hands, however, are still gripping hers and tiredly pulling her away from the bowls. “please stop trying to eat their food. it’s not for you.”

“why not?” she whines, now dropping her head to rest on her arm. “i’m being a responsible pet owner, mate.”

“no, you’re just being stupid.”

“aw, take that back!”

“but you are!”

“you’re always so mean to me!” she squeaks, lifting her head to look at him. “i’m going to bed!”

logan chuckles, “if you can get up and make it to bed by yourself, i’ll let you eat stubby’s kibble.”

she sighs loudly and drops her head again, followed by an even louder whine. “fine. you got me.”

they let the silence overcome them for a moment, his hands still gripping hers tightly. he’s let his guard down too easily once tonight and there is absolutely no way that she will get the best of him again.

“can you take me to my bed now?” she starts softly. “and i’d like that glass of water now.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @clemswrld @a-disturbing-self-reflection @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

#logan sargeant x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 female driver #formula one x reader #fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #female driver #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #vettel reincarnate

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two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat · 2 years

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So I was looking through petfinder cuz I miss layla and looking at doggos makes me happy

Also theres always some with funny names

And I got a little spooked cuz

I found a dog that looks eerily similar to layla

Like theres some clear differences but on first glance? Holy shit.

#i think genesis is part dachshund instead of corgi tho #she has a long body like layla but shes got bow legs #which is a dachshund trait #her legs are also short unlike laylas #layla did not get the stubby corgi legs #15 years of trying to find a dog that looked this much like layla (not for any particular reason just wanted to)#and i just happen to find one on petfinder right after she dies #thats fuckin weird

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dirtyvulture · 8 months

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Super J - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Superpowered!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: The adventures of Jacob the super corgi continue.

Word count: 3253

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used. Short smut scene at the end. :)

Thank you for all the support on Part 1 (read here)! And special shoutout to the 🍬 anon for brainstorming this one with me.

You had never had a dog of your own before, so you are constantly showering Jacob with affection and treats to the point that Natasha worries she’s being left out of your relationship. You take Jacob with you on your daily run, surprised at how well the stubby-legged corgi can keep up with (at one point even surging ahead after a cat and managing to drag you down three blocks).

Jacob attracts a lot of attention, even more than you do, and many people stop to ask if they can pet him or take a picture of him. One time, Natasha joins you two, but becomes infuriated when girls stop under the pretense of meeting Jacob, only to then turn and flirt with you instead. But you only have eyes for your girlfriend, with enough love to spare for your corgi too, and your life moves on without hiccup.

Kate and Yelena refuse to watch Jacob after the so-called incident on his first night at the Tower, so on the days that you can’t care for him, you usually ask Thor, Steve, or Clint to help. But eventually, Kate cannot resist the charms of your adorable little corgi and begins to warm up to him again.

She plays ball with him in the garden, laughing at the way Jacob turns into a furious black blur when he chases after the tennis ball she stabbed one of her arrows through. This allows her to launch the tennis ball at greater speeds than even you can throw and to a distance where she’s certain the corgi will become tired after two or three rounds, but he seems to have limitless energy.

Jacob comes tearing out of the bushes, the shaft of the arrow gripped in his mouth, when Kate’s cellphone begins to vibrate. She slings her bow over her shoulder to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kate, it’s Agent Hill. Are you at the Tower?”

“Yeah, I’m in the back playing with Jacob.”

“Are you free for a mission? We’ll need you to be ready at the Quinjet in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, yes, of course. What’s up?”

Meanwhile, Jacob drops the arrow at Kate’s feet, sitting down and looking up at her expectantly, waiting for her to shoot it out for him to chase again. But Kate is completely ignoring him now, turning away and grabbing her quiver of arrows off the grass. Jacob watches as she starts running back towards the Tower, leaving him alone in the garden.

He looks at his tennis ball pierced by Kate’s arrow and picks it back up with a frustrated sigh, then trots into the Tower after her.

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

“Where are my Widow Bites?” Natasha groans, throwing underwear and socks across the room.

“Right here,” you respond, pointing to them sitting on her nightstand.

“Thank you,” she says, snatching them up and slipping them onto her wrists. “Are you ready?”

“Almost.” You grunt as you shove your foot into your boot, lacing it on sloppily but not having enough time to care. Maria had called while you two were busy in an intimate act, but the details of the emergency mission were enough to cause you both to untangle yourselves and dress up immediately.

“Where’s Jacob?” Natasha asks.

“I think Kate took him outside.”

“Isn’t she coming with us?”

“I’ll text Clint to watch him while we’re gone. It shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”

You grab Natasha’s hand and teleport the both of you to the roof, still barely making it on time. Kate is already there, standing outside the ramp of the Quinjet with a full quiver of arrows slung across her shoulder.

“Hi, Kate,” you greet.

“Let’s go!” Natasha snaps, having no patience for formalities. You and Kate hurry after her onto the plane, finding your places as Natasha punches in the coordinates and within seconds has the Quinjet in the air. “We’ll be there in thirty minutes. Get ready to handle business as soon as we land, we don’t have any time to waste.”

“Yes, Agent Romanoff,” Kate says, while you want to swoon at the way Natasha sounds so authoritative and demanding. But now is not the time nor the place, so you have to keep it in your pants until the mission is over.

As the three of you settle in for the flight, mentally preparing yourselves for the battlefield you’ll be depositing yourselves on, a rustling noise from the back of the Quinjet catches Kate’s attention. At first she dismisses it, thinking it is an unsecured object sliding around, but then she hears a familiar clang and gets up to investigate.

She pokes her head into the back corner of the Quinjet, seemingly finding nothing, but when she returns to her seat, she sees two brown eyes staring at her from under the row of seats in the back.

“AHHHH!” Kate screams, falling to the floor and you and Natasha turn to look at her.

Jacob the corgi bounds out of his hiding spot, dragging the arrow with the tennis ball. His stumpy tail wags happily and when he spots you and Natasha in the front, he drops his toy and runs over.

“Jacob? What are you doing here?” you ask as Jacob tries to jump into your lap.

“Kate…” Natasha growls.

“I left him in the garden!” Kate says.

“You left him?”

“No, I mean…Agent Hill called me when I was outside playing with him, so I just came back inside and…didn’t really pay attention to where he was,” Kate explains lamely.

“He must have snuck on before any of us got here,” you say, stroking the corgi behind his ears. “Maybe because he knew where we were all gonna be–”

“The dog does not understand English,” Natasha interrupts. “And now what are we supposed to do with him?”

“I’ll teleport him back to the Tower!” you say, standing and tucking Jacob under your arm like a football. He barks unhappily at the position.

“No, no, wait!” both Kate and Natasha say at the same time.

“Have you ever teleported with an animal before?” Kate asks.

“You don’t know what that could do to Jacob,” Natasha adds.

“Oh. I guess that’s true.” You look down at Jacob, who you swear is frowning at you with disappointment at the idea of threatening his life. You put him on the floor and he runs back to grab his tennis-ball-arrow-thing and bring it over. “But it’s too late for us to turn around now.”

“Kate, you’ll have to stay with him,” Natasha finally says.

“Stay? But you need me for the mission!” Kate protests.

“It’s your fault he’s here,” Natasha says. “So you’re responsible for him now.”

“But he’s your dog!”

“This is not up for discussion.”

“Fine.” Kate grumbles as she sits down in her seat. She’s already thinking of a way out of this, refusing to be left behind on a Class 1 emergency mission because of a stowaway corgi. Jacob seems to sense that he’s caused some kind of disruption, because he wiggles out of your grip and pads over to Kate, butting her leg with his nose and smiling up at her. Nobody can stay mad at that face for long, and Kate grudgingly pets him for the rest of the journey.

Natasha lands the Quinjet in an open, snowy field.

“Stay here,” she says to Kate and Jacob.

“We’ll be back soon,” you add, waiting for the ramp to lower.

“Are you sure I can’t come–”

“Yes,” both of you say in unison before disappearing out of the jet.

“Goddamn it,” Kate mutters, flopping in her seat and glaring at Jacob, who is now chewing a hole in his tennis ball. She watches him for a few minutes, torn between leaving him in the Quinjet herself and joining you two, but then her mind flashes back to her first encounter with Jacob when he grew to ten times his size and almost crushed her, Yelena, and Fanny to death. Nothing similar had happened since, and you and Natasha still didn’t believe that your dog had superpowers, but now sitting here in an enclosed space with a corgi who could activate like the Hulk, Kate realizes she might be in more danger than you and Natasha.

But she’s so busy considering all the scenarios that she doesn’t notice Jacob abandon his tennis ball, moseying over to the front of the Quinjet and pushing at the buttons on the dashboard with his nose. Suddenly, the ramp lower itself again and before Kate can figure out what’s going on, a black blur darts by her feet and leaps into the snow.

“Jacob! Get back here!” Kate shouts, running out of the plane after him.

Jacob is so short that all Kate can see of him are the black tips of his ears, but he appears and disappears in the snow, hopping around like a deer.

“Jacob!” Kate calls again, but either he can’t hear her or simply refuses to respond, bounding further and further away every second. Kate has no choice but to follow him, even more afraid of what Natasha will do to her if she finds out that she not only let her dog out in enemy territory, but left him to completely fend for himself.

Despite her longer legs, Kate is clumsy and unfamiliar with the terrain, nearly twisting her ankle multiple times as she runs after Jacob. She hears shouting and gunshots in the distance, her stomach twisting when she realizes how close you and Natasha must be, and she can’t imagine what would happen if Jacob ran into the middle of a battlefield. She does her best to keep the corgi in sight, but eventually he outpaces her and Kate doesn’t know where he is anymore.

Her heart beating in her throat, she finally considers calling you, but then she hears your voices nearby and starts running towards them until her legs are on fire.

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

It was an ambush.

The second you and Natasha broke out through a grouping of trees, gunfire rained down on you and the two of you took shelter behind a large rock.

“They wasted no time,” you comment, inserting a fresh magazine into your handgun and racking the slide.

“They were expecting us,” Natasha responds, peeking out and firing off a few shots of her own.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have left Bishop on the Quinjet. We could probably use her long distance help right about now,” you say, speaking as casually as if the two of you were on a dinner date and not being gunned down by dozens of trained soldiers.

“We can’t let them close in,” Natasha says. “I’ll create a distraction and you try to gain some ground on them.”

“Wait, Nat–” You try to stop her, not wanting her to put herself in danger, but it’s too late. She sprints across the clearing, taking the attention of gunfire with her. “NAT!” you shout, although she can’t hear you. Shaking your head, you steel your nerves and leave your spot of cover, shooting at every soldier whose helmet you see poking out from behind trees or around bushes. There seems to be a never-ending supply of them and you don’t even know if you’ll have enough bullets for all of them.

Natasha throws herself onto the ground, rolling behind a log as gunfire spits up rocks and twigs that cut her face and hands. She cusses to herself while checking her magazine. The pressure on her is relentless, and she doesn’t even think she’ll have a moment to fire back.

But just as she has that thought, the drumming of bullets halts and she pops up, firing away. She hears the first bang of return fire before she feels the heat lance across her side, causing her to double over, gasping for air. Instinctively, she reaches for her ribs, pulling her hand away sticky with blood.

“Nat!” you scream.

Natasha’s legs buckle under her and she falls to the ground, although luckily behind the cover of the log. You race towards her with no regard for your safety anymore.

“Nat! Nat!” you continue to yell.

“GRRRRRRRR!”

The ground shakes with a tremendous roar that causes you to drop to your stomach and curl up. From behind you, something gigantic leaps into the clearing. It’s a enormous black animal, with familiar pointed ears and white paws–

“Jacob?” You gape in absolute shock as your corgi, who is now the size of a house, attacks the soldiers with frightening intensity. Seconds later, Kate Bishop in her purple uniform, huffing and puffing with her quiver rattling on her back, arrives. “Is that Jacob?” you scream at her and she only nods, trying to catch her breath.

You turn back and crawl towards Natasha, throwing your body over hers as Jacob goes crazy, tearing the soldiers apart and kicking up sandstorms of dirt. Natasha clutches onto your shoulders tightly, hiding her face in your neck from the dust clouds. Kate finally summons the strength to help, her arrows flying around to take out the remaining soldiers with an efficiency that would make Clint proud. You stay over Natasha until the noise has died down and Kate runs over to you two.

“Are you guys okay?” she asks.

“Nat?” You shift off your girlfriend, who only groans in response, clutching her bleeding side.

“We need to get back to the Quinjet,” you say, your only concern now to get Natasha to safety.

“We’re kind of far…” Kate says unhelpfully.

“Where’s Jacob?” You’re not even phased that your corgi seems to have a superpower like yourself. Either that, or he swallowed a Pym Particle when no one was looking.

“Uh…”

Jacob barks, much deeper than you’ve heard before, and the ground shakes as he bounds over. If you were standing, you don’t think you would’ve even come up to his shoulder.

“We can…probably ride him back to the Quinjet,” Kate offers, which is probably the most sensible thing you’ve heard all day.

“Is that a bear?” Natasha says out of nowhere, sitting up and wincing as she holds her side.

“No, that’s Jacob,” Kate answers.

Natasha squints at you. “Did you change his kibble?”

“What? No.”

“Yelena and I told you on day one that he could grow like this!” Kate says, almost stamping her foot in frustration at both of your poor memories. “Now do you believe us?”

“I just got shot,” Natasha says, closing her eyes and laying back down. “This could all be a dream as far as I’m concerned.”

“Natasha!”

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” You scoop up your girlfriend and carry her over to Jacob, who flattens himself against the ground so you and Kate can climb on. He trots back to the Quinjet without being prompted and shrinks back to his original size when he arrives.

“That’s a good boy,” you tell him with a pat on the head before you carry Natasha onto the Quinjet.

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

It turns out, Natasha was merely grazed by the bullet, so she didn’t need to stay overnight in the medical bay. Kate offers to let Jacob stay in her room that night, which surprises you, but you can sense that her and the corgi have bonded after the day’s events, so you don’t object. You tell Jacob good night and promise to cook him the biggest steak you can find tomorrow, and he licks your hand, trotting down the hall with Kate.

You go with Natasha back to your room.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” you ask.

“Will you join me?” she asks.

“Of course.”

You walk into the master bathroom, plugging the tub and running the water at a warm but not hot temperature. You’re still sweaty and grimy yourself from the mission and you think Natasha will appreciate the non-scalding temperature of the water. You grab the soap and shampoo from the shower and put it on the edge of the tub, then call Natasha in.

The two of you undress each other carefully. Natasha has a waterproof bandage covering her side and a few other scratches and bruises from the mission. You have some of your own, but they’re nowhere near the same severity as hers. You can tell she’s tired from how slow she moves and you kiss her head before you help her into the tub. You slip in behind her, the water the perfect temperature against your skin and you lean back against the edge, Natasha sitting between your legs.

“This is nice,” she mumbles, resting against you and closing her eyes.

You soak a washcloth in the water and lather it up with soap, gently brushing it across Natasha’s shoulders and down her arms. She turns around so you can wash her front, and then she takes the cloth from you and washes you with it. You love spending time with her like this, sharing such a simple but intimate activity together. After you wash your hairs and drain the tub of all the soap and shampoo, you move to get out, but Natasha grabs onto your hand and asks you to stay for a little longer. You fill the tub again with fresh water and sit back down, facing her this time.

Her hands rests on your thighs under the water and you feel her squeeze them before trailing up to cup between your legs.

“Nat?” you ask, but she leans forward to silence you with a kiss.

“Is this okay?” she asks, stroking you softly.

“Yes,” you respond with a shuddering breath, tilting your head back against the edge of the tub. Natasha knows her way around your body better than you do at this point; she knows how to get you worked up in minutes, or how to draw out the pleasure until you’re literally putty in her hands.

“Good. Just relax for me, baby.”

“I can do that.” You close your eyes as Natasha touches you, moaning when her hands slide up and down your shaft with the perfect amount of pressure. She trails kisses down your jaw, pausing to suck on your neck as she builds you up to release.

It doesn’t take long until you’re throbbing in her hands. “Fuck, Nat. I…I’m close,” you pant. She squeezes just under your head, effectively stopping you from blowing and you open your eyes again, just in time to see her lifting herself onto your cock, slipping you into her and the combination from the water and the warmth of her walls makes you moan in satisfaction.

Natasha holds onto your shoulders as she moves her hips and water splashes out of the tub in waves. You cup her bottom, tilting your head up to silently ask for a kiss that she obliges to, sealing her lips with yours while she rides you. You love this woman so much, you feel like you’ll never be able to show her or put it in words. But when she rests her forehead against yours, you know that she knows.

Your body goes still when you finally cum, your abs flexing into a washboard and Natasha purposely tilts her hips up so she can rub her clit against them, reaching her own high seconds after yours. She rests her head against your chest and you wrap your strong arms tightly around her, a silent reminder of how much you love her and how you’ll never let anything happen to her.

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AN: Aww, I love Super J. :) And Nat and R’s relationship.

Please like, comment, and reblog! Follow for more content.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

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stubbiethecorgi · 3 months

Text

The corgis had their teeth cleaned and the meds are still going strong for Stu! 😴 ❤️

#stu #stubbie the corgi #cute #corgi #pembroke welsh corgi #dogs #animals

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mrsoharaa · 5 months

Text

Ꮺ ❥ 𝑻𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

characters: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

content warnings: slight blood/wounds, fluff

You had an excruciating, long tiring day of work. Your entire body felt like it was on the verge of violently collapsing from how many hours you were picking up at the hospital, due to the lack of staff and the consistent tirelessness engagement with the patients.

You exhale a protracted exasperated sigh, mangling your keys into the door slot of your apartment. Fumbling a bit with the keyhole, you grumbled out a frustrated grunt- already too exhausted to deal with any small inconveniences that just added to your weighted stress hauling you down.

You roll your heavy eyelids, listening to the harmonious click of your door finally opening. A more relaxed and satisfied breath slips pass your lips.

Prying your door open, you stepped into your dim lit apartment, locked the door behind you and tossed your keys onto the entry table near your door. Hearing nothing but complete, utter silence that scoured through your home.

You cocked a brow in confusion, normally your Welsh Corgi- Cheddar, would be enthusiastically welcoming you home with consistent happy barks and jumping all over your legs with eccentric tail wags the moment the doorknob twists and turns from you arrival from work.

"Cheddar? I'm home!" you call out, hearing nothing but pure, unsettled silence.

A strange, long awkward silence that almost engraved chills down the stride of your stilled body.

You tilt your head a bit, flickering on the hallway light as you made your way through your soundless loft. Searching through each room carefully for your adorable pup.

He couldn't have escaped from the house, you made sure you locked your door. And he surely couldn't climb out a window. His legs were too short and stubby.

So...where was he?

"Cheddar? come here baby! mama's home!" you exclaimed once more, emerging from your quieted bedroom, pacing your way into your lit living room. You skimmed around but still nothing.

"Huh, where the hell is that dog-- woof! woof!" your head immediately spritz around to the sound of your yelping dog, twirling on your feet you gaze down at your barking, fluffy companion "There you are silly! don't do that again! nearly gave mama a heart attack!" you exhaled a burdensome sigh of relieve, watching your small pup continue barking upward, his tail wagging wildly, fangs hardly protracting from his continuous barks.

Your brows knit together confusingly, wondering what it was, he was barking at.

Too focus on your noisy pet, you felt a drop of liquid plop onto your right shoulder. Glimpsing onto your limb, you notice a deep crimson colored dot stain into your teal scrubs.

"What the-- woof! woof!" your dog continues, his tail still wagging side to side in such a ravenous pace. You shush him, feeling another droplet of crimson liquid permeate onto your clothed shoulder. Plucking your finger onto the soften fabric of your work scrub, you leer closer to the familiar, strong scent of iron on the pad of your finger.

"Blood...?" you blinked slowly, gradually lifting your head upward to see a bulked, hovering man wearing a strange red and blue suit clinging onto the ceiling of your apartment.

Nearly jumping backwards onto your heels, you covered your gaping mouth quickly and watched the looming, crouching man stuck on your ceiling waver a finger over his mask.

"Shh, not a word, señora" his voice was deep, smooth-- velvet like, still a bit muffled behind that thin fabric, but still gentle and hoarse. It was almost comforting and reeling.

How did he get up there? How was he clinging to the ceiling the way that he was?

Your body immediately stiffens, watching the man grunt heavily, painfully almost as he tries to crawl his way off from your ceiling. But the moment he inches his way closer towards your open window, he looses his grip amongst the ceiling and clashes brutally down onto your wooden floor. Heaves out another, pitched painful grunt this time. Your widen irises skim directly to where his large hands were strictly pinned, onto his right side.

Notices a tremendous amount of pooling blood seep through the side of his suited body.

"Oh no..." you mumble under your breath, quickly kicking off your feet towards the injured, mysterious costumed man.

Kneeling down before him, you waved out your small hands to aid him, but felt his right hand abruptly clasp onto your wrist. Ceasing you from reaching out towards him, his masked face turning in your direction "I'm fine-" he gruffs with another discomforted groan, his left hand holding onto dear life onto his bleeding out torso "Please, I'm a nurse I can help" you murmur softly, gazing over his strangely suited, yet tremendously built figure.

He blankly stares at you for a long moment, sighing heavily as he carefully lays his wounded, weighted body down onto your harden floor.

୨ ♡ ୧

After a half an hour of patching up the mysterious man's side, you softly glance up from his strange outfit to the fitted mask that shielded his cryptic face. Truly, you were inquisitively curious as to what he looked like beneath that unusual mask, but you avoided to pry. No matter how much it gnawed at your curiosity.

"There, all patched up- at least, momentarily" you weave out a soft breath, finishing up stitching up the long, deepen gash that carved from his stocked torso "Though, I do highly advise that you seek proper medical treatment" you advised, putting away your little emergency stash of stitches and other medical supplies back into your little box you kept beneath your bathroom sink. You watch the man groan lowly, rolling his broaden shoulders as he hisses out a muffled, sustaining grunt. Feels a throbbing ache nag at his freshly inflicted wound "This will do, thank you" He stands up to his feet, takes a step forward only to be pushed back slightly by your giddy, curious dog jumping at the soaring man.

You could see the indent of a crooked brow within his mask glancing down at your dog with such confusion.

Strange.

Cheddar was never really too found of male guests.

So, what was it about this particular man that he liked?

"Odd, Cheddar doesn't really care much for men...but with you..." you tilt your head in curiosity, glimpsing from your surprisingly happy eccentric pup to the towering, strange man still wearing an odd costume.

"Cheddar? you named your dog after a type of cheese?" he tilts his head, watching the playful dog dart off to retrieve a toy, only to plant back down in front of the hovering man with said toy in it's mouth "It's cute! he's cute! it suits him!" you exclaimed, listening to the tall mans sleek voice chuckle in the most subtle, gentle way. Radiates a swarm of butterflies to flutter in the pits of your simulated belly.

"Right, well thank you for your care but I need to get going一" he slightly leans forward to subtly pet the top of Cheddar's head and paces over to your closed window, halts immediately when he see's a violent rush of pivoting rain pour down from the darken, shrouded skies.

Sighs in disbelief and annoyance, slugging his lengthy shoulders from the inconvenience.

"Seems like you can't go anywhere for the time being..." you called out softly, cleaning up the remaining mess of your medical supplies and the stained hand towels that drenched of his oozing blood.

"Stay, I can make you something to eat or...something" you smile, watching his slouching, hefty frame slightly turn back towards your direction "...So you're just willing to offer a random stranger, wearing strange clothing, bleeding out on your floor, and invading your home with a hot meal?" he remarks blandly, questionably, you giggle, shrugging "Why not? I'm a nurse, caring is part of the job...and for what it's worth一 I can cook a mean Lasagna" you brim your gleaming smile towards the conflicted, mysterious man.

He knew he shouldn't.

He shouldn't implore of staying. He was a busy man.

Always on the go.

But there was just something about you, your kind, gentle spirit that radiated such purity and endearment that wooed the stoic, man's soul. Plus...it didn't seem like the horrendous storm outside was stopping any time sooner.

"...I don't want to implore" he mumbles deeply, studying your skipping figure prance into your open kitchen, already preparing for your shared dinner "You're not imploring! plus, you do need to embellish in some nutrients!" you sing happily, playing some background music as your dance your way through your pantry to gather all the ingredients and supplies you needed for your dish.

He couldn't help but lift a wry, small smile beneath his mask.

୨ ♡ ୧

He gazes down at you behind his mask, watches the thin, loose strands of your hair gently fall along your peaceful, slumbering face. Hesitates at first, but carefully brushes the loose strands back upon your head that nestled ever so comfortably amongst his sturdy lap. Studies your beautiful features that leered his attention. The subtlety of your graceful radiance pulling him in.

He shouldn't feel like this.

He hardly knew you.

You were a complete stranger.

And yet...

Such a kind and compassionate soul you were. Caring and tending to his inflicted, open wounds. Cooking him a hot homemade meal and holding light, carefree conversations. Showing him such welcoming hospitality.

And you, don't even know him.

You don't even recognize him from being the infamous Spider-Man that goes around saving people and stopping bad ones from deteriorating the city and causing harm.

Which...he oddly liked about you the most.

Only a few hours of dressing his wounds, initiating small talk and having dinner with you made him feel...things.

Things he knew he shouldn't or...didn't, want to be feeling.

But he couldn't help it.

You were just so intriguing. So open and trusting.

So一 Captivating.

He tucks another loose small strand of hair behind your ear this time, watching the supple plush of your lips pucker with each silent breath you would exhale. Finds himself so gradually infatuated with them.

How full and pretty they looked. How soft and silky- awfully tempting.

He fights back the ascending urge to lean forward and press his lips against yours. To feel the velvety softness of your tender, plump lips against his. To taste the sweetness that lingered on those full, pinkish mounts of flesh permeate onto his prickling skin.

He closes his eyes and exhales heavily, gently holding you in his strong, sculpted arms and carry's you into your bedroom. Gently uses his sleek hips to creak open the door, glancing down at you to make sure you were still sound asleep.

Watches you hurdle closely into his firm chest comfortably, mumbling something softly under your silent breath with a caressing smile.

Nearly trips over his own feet from his distraction of gazing upon you, notices Cheddar prancing up next to him, now jumping onto your queen sized bed.

He grumbles under his breath, a remark of almost tripping himself over something so-- silly.

Silly...yes.

He looks down at you once again, gently nestling you into your bed and waving your soften comforter over your stilled body. Stares down at you for a long moment, watching the pure peace and tranquility dawn all over your delicate, serene face.

He stills himself.

Sighs once again, but more heavily.

"¿Qué haces, idiota?..." he reels back his mask fully from his face, his luminous, cardinal irises gently hovers over you. Giving you a last look over.

Leans in and placidly kisses the corner of your silky lips with his.

Hums deeply from how soft and warm they really were against his.

Wishes he could stay like this for a bit longer.

But he couldn't.

He had priorities to take care of.

He brushes over your head with his right hand softly one last time, gleaming eyes carefully studying your stunning, restful face.

"Thank you for everything, Hermosa..." he murmurs lightly, resurfacing his mask back upon his face, as he stands back onto his feet and waltz towards your bedroom window. Opens it and leaps onto the window seal, crooning his head over his right shoulder to steal one last glimpse at you.

Smiles beneath his mask, jumps off from your window seal, closes your window and swings off into the lightly sprinkling night.

Keeping the vivid image of your beautiful face embedded deeply into the back of his mind.

Hoping, to run into you again soon.

#I FORGOT HOW MUCH I LOVED THIS ONE #OMFG #miggyyy! 🥺💕#miguel o'hara x reader #atsv

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