#very obviously trying to get in tony's pants

[itsalmostavengers]

Do you have any plans for fics after Heavy Pleasures?

Nothing solid, but there are always tons of ideas floating around in my mind at any given point that could suddenly spark into a hyperfixation. Recently my maladaptive Stevetony daydreams have consisted mostly of one of them going into the other's timeline for Whatever Reason, and then like having them falling in love all in the wrong order. I have two completely different fics with this trope in mind: one where Tony goes into Steve's, and another where Steve goes into Tony's. I think both of those have the potential to be both incredibly fun to write and incredibly rewarding bc like. The protectiveness at the sight of this younger, less jaded version of the man they’re in love with? The longing? The falling in love in a million different ways with a million different versions of the same guy? Oof.

but also they would be Capital P Projects sooooo as to whether I would see them both through? idk.

I also have a massive project that I started working on three years ago n have since abandoned, but I did so much of it already that I'm wondering whether to just post it all anyway even though it won't be finished. I mean, better out there for a few people to read than just gathering dust in my gdocs

[ghostgirl-22]

tw somnophilia but art and patrick cuddling every night to sleep and patrick always wakes up hard with art sleepily grinding his ass against him. he’ll never admit to it out loud though and patrick has to have an intervention bc he cant control himself from grabbing his hips and grinding back :( he wants him sooo bad. of course art secretly loves it 🙂‍↕️

Oh yes anon! I chopped it up a little bit but your somnophilia is still very much present </3

CW: 18+ NSFW, Somnophilia can have a dubcon to cnc element to it so obviously don’t read if that freaks you out. No proofreading is the norm.

——

The problem starts when he mentions it to Art. That he’s kinda liking boys. That he’s sorta into their teammate Tony. He’s not great at tennis but he’s pretty. They’d been flirting with each other, teasing each other a little bit. “I kissed him once,” Patrick admits.

“Huh…that’s cool,” Art shrugs. He plays it nonchalant but it’s clear he never knew anything about it.  

“I think I might try it out this weekend.” 

”Try it out?”

”Yeah, I might hook up with him. I bought this lubricant that heats up when you put it on. It’s kinda hot.”  

“Oh,” Art says, distracted. He’s endlessly distracted by homework and tennis and whatever else he’s got going on. 

Patrick doesn’t really think about it again till that night. Art comes to him sleepy, in his boxers and a little white t-shirt rubbing his eyes, shirt riding up while he scratches his head.

”I can’t see the tv that well from my side,” he says, climbing into Patrick’s twin. They’re not even watching anything that interesting but Art settles in next to him. Lays down in front of Patrick, golden curls still damp from the shower smelling sweet  like the herbal essences conditioner he stole from his ex. Patrick swallows it down but he’s stiff right away. They used to share the bed all the time when they were kids, but they’re much bigger now. And normally they rarely sleep together unless the bed is at least full sized. 

Patrick kinda likes boys now. But he’s liked Art for longer than that. He’s gorgeous… and he looks like…well, art. Beautiful. He has the kinda body all the ancient horny artists his classics professor loves, would carve out of marble from memory Patrick knows it. Not that he’d ever admit it to him.

As gorgeous as he is, as badly as Patrick wants to just… cross the line. He doesn’t have a bunch of friends and he gets too much out of Art to risk fucking this up but… Jesus, his skin is so soft.

Art dozes off in the middle of an episode of Psych that he’d been so desperate to watch. They’re too close. There’s too much of him all over Patrick, carelessly spread out and snuggled up. Patrick is so hard he stays up late, anxious Art will feel it at some point in his sleep. 

What actually happens is so much worse. He wakes up too early and Art is still asleep, pressing up against him. All wiggly. His ass rubbing, no grinding up against Patrick’s dick. Patrick has to hold his breath, has to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep from grabbing his waist and pushing back. Pulling Arts thin boxers down, wetting his dick and slipping inside. Art stills eventually and Patrick does gymnastics to get out of the bed so he can go fucking jerk off in peace.

Art is the prettiest sleeper because of course he is. Patrick snores and drools, wakes up with his eyes all coated in sleepy stuff. Art sleeps like he’s on display. Golden curls fanned out as he grips his pillow, his perfect jawline settled and relaxed, the lean muscle of his biceps on display beneath his shirt sleeves, t-shirt riding up revealing his solid hip bones, one leg bent, his bare knee jutting out from beneath the blanket. He sleeps peacefully, cheeks hollow, lips pouted. Even in his sleep he has to tempt Patrick mercilessly. It’s his job. 

Patrick hurries to the bathroom and shuts the door. Leaning against it as he shoves his hand down his sweat pants and jerks himself furiously. Every detail of Art spread out in his bed already committed to memory. 

He thinks he’s done. But it happens again the next night. Art pads over to his bed and gets in. “No i want the outside,” Patrick says thinking it’ll make a difference if he can press his ass up against art as they watch tv rather than the other way around. Instead he wakes up with Arts leg and arm draped over his waist.  Art is half hard, breathing light and hot against Patrick’s ear as he sleeps and Patrick’s own dick is swollen and very obviously hard, pressing along Arts thigh.

It’s harder to unwrap himself. It’s harder still, not to grab at Arts dick and start jerking him in his sleep. 

He sits on the toilet lid jerking off. Wondering what he did in a past life to have to put up with this level of temptation.

Patrick flirts with Tony during practice but it’s not quite the same as it was before. For starters Art is definitely hanging around them more. it’s not like Art tries to stop it. But if Patrick didn’t know any better he’d think Art was acting a little flirty with Tony too. Laughing at Tony’s jokes or asking him for advice on a new diet regiment when he could care less about the guy before.

And again Art needs to sleep in Patrick’s bed because suddenly television is oh so important to him. Patrick wakes up again the next morning with Art squirming all over him. And he knows it’s bad. Knows it’s fucking wrong. But honestly he’s not really doing much more than using the movement. 

Yeah he’s rubbing himself off on his sleeping best friend. Yes he’s grabbing his hips, rocking his erection along the perfect swell of Arts bottom but they’re both fully clothed. Sure the fabric is paper thin. Sure he comes so hard through his boxers that a bit of the wet seeps onto Arts clothes. Sure he sneaks out of bed and hurries to the shower just as Art starts to stretch and wake up properly. But it’s not like he’s doing anything more than what could have technically happened unconsciously between them both if he was still asleep.

The following night he’s hard before Art gets into his bed. He can barely wait till morning. By then, he's pushing back as Art wiggles. Biting down on his groans. Art is reacting too in his sleep. His cock getting hard. Patrick reaches around and rubs him through his boxers. He makes little noises, wiggles his hips even more and Patrick just comes faster. Rubbing Art till he feels the wet spot spreading along his heated palm.

Art rolls over with a soft sigh and settles back into sleep. 

He’s all flushed when he wakes up later thinking maybe he had a wet dream. Patrick reassures him. “Dude it happens to everyone. Sometimes for no reason.” He knows it’s horrible and so wrong but it just feels so fucking good.

It’s Friday and Patrick’s made plans to hook up with Tony tomorrow night. He’s gonna sleep over in Tony’s dorm room while his roommate’s out of town. Figure out what he likes. He hasn’t shared anything else about it with Art since that night last weekend and Art hasn’t really brought it up. 

It’s a hot night, unseasonably warm for spring and the school isn’t about to turn on the air yet so they’ve got the windows open. It’s too hot to be all up under each other but Art comes over anyway. Half naked. Only in his boxers. He climbs in all sinewy and long. Just a living breathing work of�� yeah. 

Patrick could tell him no. Could tell him to stop doing this. Hell, he could even suggest they push the beds together for more space but he’s sick. Wants to use Arts pretty sleeping body for his cock in the morning. 

And when morning comes it’s predictable. Art rubbing up against him. Patrick does the careful balancing act of pushing back without waking him. Grinding up against him. And then something happens that he doesn’t expect.

“Oh fuck, pat?”  it’s arts groggy voice. He’s awake, still letting his hips move. 

Patrick stills, mildly panicked.

“Yeah?” He whispers pretending to just wake up too.

“Your… i feel your…cock. It’s so…”

“I know dude I’m sorry i—“

Art starts pushing back harder against it. “Mmm it feels kinda good.” He sighs. 

“Uh—uh yeah?” Patrick stammers getting a little tongue tied. His whole body thrumming all of a sudden.

“Mmhm,” Art whines, moving faster. “M-maybe I’m into guys too?”

“Shit,” Patrick breathes. He’s on a knife’s edge right and Arts is just pushing it back on him eagerly. Patrick can see he’s got his hand down his boxers. Jerking himself off. Patrick grabs his hips, his waist to provide more friction. It feels so good not to hold back, not to be gentle and they’re rocking hard, the mattress squeaking while they’re grinding into each other. Tension rising to euphoric levels and then, almost too fast, Art is panting, moaning, jerking, coming in his boxers. It’s so fucking hot. That’s all it takes for Patrick to blow it, all pressed up against Arts ass. 

“Oh fuck yes,” Patrick breathes as he comes down. 

“Mm,” Art rolls over. “What if i like boys too?” He asks softly.

“Uh shit… then uh… we should explore that.”

“Me and you?”

“Yeah…if…if you want.”

“But what about Tony?” Art asks. He almost nails the innocent tone but he’s just a little too earnest and that rings… false. 

Patrick smiles as it dawns on him. “God you’re such a fucking snake,” he laughs.

“What do you mean?” Art says, grinning. 

“Oh fuck off. Getting in my bed every night you never wanted me to sleep with him.”

“I dunno what you mean, I just wanted to see the tv.”

“Mmhm.”

“And maybe I remembered you’d always get hard when you fall asleep. It used to wake me up in the middle of the night… like you did when you were rubbing it all over me in my sleep this week you pervert.”

“Yeah that getting hard thing happens with you… when you’re in my bed. And if I’m a pervert what’s that make you? Grinding all over me every morning and giving me a complex you little freak.” Patrick says, shoving him playfully. 

Art laughs.  “It makes me more useful than Tony… at least for your little experiment. Fuck him. Or better yet, don’t.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Patrick smirks and shakes his head before rubbing Arts bare thigh. “god you’re such a manipulative little shit, aren’t you?”

“But you like me.” Art points out.

“Yeah I like you. Maybe me and you can figure out liking boys together.”

[ncis-nerd]

Don't you worry darling

theatre actor r! x stage manager!natasha romanov

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, sensory issues, panic attacks, crying.

Marvel Masterlist

a/n: not based off true events .. juliet if you see this... no u don't 😭

"Dude!! You're clothes are getting wet!!" Your castmate, Kate exclaimed. "Huh?" You looked at her confused. Your clothes were sitting perfectly on top of your bag, on the chair..Were they not?

Your eyes glanced towards the chair where your stuff resided at, and there were gone. SHIT- You rushed to pick it up from the tray of water but it was too late, the damage was done.

You were in an off Broadway play, sharing a dressing room with 13 of your cast mates, plus the guys from the other play. They kept the room so disgusting and you got the smaller room out of the two. But at least yours had a window and now had air conditioning. A downside to the air conditioning is that it would leak, so they had to get a tray to let the water fall into.

You knew it was risky putting your stuff so close to it but you just wanted to stay out of people's way. It was hard being squeezed into a tight, sweaty dressing room with 13 other people.

So of course, you didn't know how to react when you picked up your shirt, hoodie and pants, all drenched in the freezing water bin. Stupidly, you left it on top of your bag and rushed out. Keep it together, keep it together. Don't cry. You locked yourself in the bathroom, tossing cold water onto your very red face. Tears streamed down your face.

What were you suppose to do? Your clothes to change back into were wet, you can't wear your costume home and you'll get sick wearing wet clothes on a 2 hour train ride back home. Not to mention uncomfortable, due to the texture.

After a minute of attempting to calm yourself down, you exit the bathroom. As you open the door to the dressing room, you noticed members form the other cast have migrated in there as well, like Tony, Steve, Bucky, etc. "Y/N! Come join us in cards!!" Maria exclaimed. "No.. it's okay" you mumbled, as they shut the door.

It was way too crowded in there and you did not want to go in there. Instead, you looked for your director Natasha or the stage member Wanda or literally anyone that could help. But no one was there, so you stood there pacing. Don't start crying again, don't start crying. Your hand rose, taking its place on your scalp. Your fingers ran down your hair, a nervous tick of yours.

Finally, after fighting back years, you start to feel drops run down your face. "Yeah and she said- hold on I'll be right back!" You heard 2 of your cast mates, Kate and Yelena speak. You saw them when you came out of the bathroom but they went down the hall to gossip. Kate went into the bathroom and Yelena made her way back down the hall, towards you.

Dammit- she's gonna see me crying.. As Yelena starts to walk down the hall, she finds you crying in the corner. "Y/n- are you okay??" She spoke, her expressed worried. "I-i" You saw your assistant manager enter backstage.

Her eyes trailed onto yours, the brunette obviously concerned about you. "Someone knocked my clothes into the water and now it's all wet" you sniffles, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. A hitch in your breath and you could feel snot running down your face.

"Hey. Hey. It's gonna be all right, okay? We've got extra clothes, okay? Are wet clothes a texture thing for you?" Wanda, your assistant manager asked.

"No but it's gonna be uncomfortable wearing wet clothes for a 2 hour commute home" you said, wiping the tears from your face.

"I see you're an overthinker but try not to worry. We have dryers. I could put your clothes to dry?" The brunette asked.

"It's on the blue bag, close to the water tray. It's a hoodie, shirt and pants." You stuttered, trying to get your words out. "Okay, thank you, Y/n, I'll go grab it right now. Don't worry" she spoke softly.

You nodded as she entered the room, you saw her come back out with your clothes in her hand. "Luckily it's not too wet but I'll still go ahead and dry that for you." She smiled.

As the brunette left, you sat by the door. Not wanting to go back in the crowded room. You heard a loud "YEAH!!" or stomp or overall odd sound, come from the room. "That can't be good.." Wanda sighed, not bothering to go check it out.

Yelena and Kate, and a few other people from the other play whom you didn't know were chilling outside the room, so you just sat there with them. Not paying much attention to their conversations, just on your phone.

"I WIN!!" A voice screams from the room. "That sounds..." Kate trailed off. "Welcome to my world!" Wanda hummed, making her way back on stage.

--

FUCK, how could you be so stupid! You finally mastered your cues but managed to fuck up the one line you had. Everyone else did so good! "And I don't!" Mj exclaimed. Shocking everyone with how much she had improved in practing her monolouge. Your castmates went over to praise her. "You did so good!" "MJ THAT WAS AMAZING!!" you join them for a moment but then you dig your fingers into your palm. Don't you start crying. Not here, in front of them.

You made your way back to the dressing room, with the other girls. Yesterday you saw Maria sit under the dresser counter, it looked comfortable and most of all- isolated. You sat down, bumping your head in the procress. "Ouchh" you groan softly.

Your head took it place on your knees, you covered your face and began to sob quietly, you literally have the easiest job. Only 2 lines, and a few cues. It's not that hard. How could you screw that up?

"Time for notes!" Your stage manager Natasha exclaimed, entering the room. You didn't budge but no one seemed to notice you and you were greatful for that.

"Maria you really surprised us all back there, that was incredible!" Natasha smiled, praising the girl. "Yeah that was epic!" Another voice said. You recognized it, it was May, another one of the managers. You thought it was only Natasha there, is Wanda also there?

"And y/n?" Natasha paused. "Y/N? Are they asleep? Are they okay?" You heard her speak. A bunch of mumbles filled your ears, they were overly sensitive like that. Natasha took the hint to move on after no movement or words from you.

After the managers had left, they said you and your cast could change out of costumes and were dismissed. You rushed out, making a run for the bathroom before it got crowded. You had snot dripping down your shirt and needed to wash your face.

When you were done, you looked around. For someone, Natasha or Wanda. To explain what had happened and that you weren't just slacking off. But you saw no one. Kate left the dressing room, "Hey have you seen Wanda?" You mumbled, trying not to cry. You felt a big gulp in your throat. "Yeah I think she might be on stage." Kate smiled softly. "Could you get her for me, please?" You mumbled, once again fidgeting with your fingers. Kate nodded and you stood backstage, waiting. As she left, Natasha entered. "Hey! Y/N? What happened?" Natasha spoke softly, with an ounce of concern in her voice. Her face filled with sympathy. "Do you want to talk?" You nodded and thats when Wanda entered the room. They led you out of the theater and somewhere more private to speak.

You were nervous about being in there because the company that owns the theater had told you guys that you weren't allowed to hang out or be in there. But you ignored it, as they were trying to be accommodating to the best they could.

You took a seat next to Natasha, Wanda standing. "I forgot my lines, I froze and I forgot my lines but everyone else did so good." You sniffled. "Hey, it's okay. You messed up but you know that you did, you know you made a mistake so that's progress! Is there anything you need?" Natasha spoke softly, her eyes focused on your teary ones. "...Water" you mumbled, Natasha and Wanda left the room. Natasha was the first to return with a cup of water. "Wanda went to check on your clothes." Natasha said, when you noticed that Wanda was gone.

You nodded and tried to break the silence. "Do you have any notes for me?" You asked. "Are you sure you want to hear that right now?" Natasha shot you a hesitant look. You nodded, "Yeah, please?" "Alright, if that's what you want. Could you be louder in the songs? We couldn't quite hear you from the back. And then there's the note about how you froze but you know so that's pretty much it." Natasha spoke softly.

Wanda entered the room, with your clothes and a shirt. "So your clothes are mostly dried, your shirts still a little wet. We can leave that here to dry, I gave you my shirt." Wanda smiled, putting a hand on your shoulder for support, before she left. "I-im gonna go change, if that's okay?" You spoke. Natasha nodded.

..

this baby has been sitting in my drafts for months bruh. pls don't flop i know there's barely any intimacy but i wanted to try to keep it as real as possible

[pippytmi]

leah x fatin from this prompt list: "it’s like 3AM and my roommate locked me out of the house and I forgot my keys and I’m really drunk pls take pity on me and let me crash at your place for the night o’ neighbor of mine AU"

_______________________________________

“Dorothy,” Fatin groans, thumping her head against the door for the millionth time. “Please, please, let me in. Are you mad at me? Is it because I called your boyfriend a grade-A hottie? I was just trying to be supportive, I don’t really find him that hot.” She pauses. “Or is it the laundry thing? I swear I’ll stop stealing your T-shirts and actually go to the laundromat more. I’ve never touched your lesbian cargo pants! Doesn't that count for anything? Dorothyyyy.”

Still nothing but continued silence. Fatin takes a sad gulp of her beatbox and debates crying. Maybe then Dot will open the door—she hates it when Fatin cries, calls it gross and ugly. At the very least, Dot won't subject the neighbors to it.

There’s a sudden cough, and Fatin sits up, prepared to fight for her life (or at least her drink), but there’s no danger in sight; it’s just Leah, the reclusive student who lives across the hall, who sometimes comes over when Dot needs help drinking the beer Fatin refuses to touch. “I think your roommate is out,” she tells Fatin slowly. “I saw her leave like three hours ago.”

“Well fuck me,” Fatin says, stunned. “I’ve been groveling to that bitch for like twenty minutes.”

Leah shifts from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. “Yeah, I heard you,” she says. “It’s kind of distracting.”

“Distracting?” Fatin repeats, first out loud, and then several more times in her head, not sure what to make of it. Until understanding suddenly dawns, and she sits up with a renewed interest. “Holy shit, do you have company over? Are you getting some?”

“What? No!” Leah’s skin turns a bright shade of red. “I’m trying to write a paper.”

“Ugh, lame,” Fatin says, slumping right back against the floor. “Just when I thought you might be interesting.”

Leah blinks. “Okay, well,” she says after a beat. “I just wanted to let you know.” She cracks open her apartment door, lingering in the doorway only to ask, “Will you be…alright?”

“No, Leah, I will not,” Fatin scoffs. “I’m drunk as shit and I need to pee and Dot has obviously abandoned me when I need her the most. I'm probably going to die in this hallway.” She has to pause for a necessary shiver. “I think this might be the lowest I've ever been. Like, physically and emotionally.”

Two doors down, there is the distinct sound of a bang against the wall. “Shut the fuck up!”

“You shut up!” Fatin yells back at whoever it is. Toni, probably. What an asshole.

Leah doesn't move, still half-shielded by her own door, and she does not comment on Toni’s asshole-ness. “Did you try calling Dot’s phone?”

“Obviously,” Fatin says. “But now my phone’s dead, and Dot didn't answer any of my calls. I called her like fifty times, Leah. At least.”

Another bang. “It's three in the fucking morning!”

“Go to hell, Toni!”

Leah sighs. “I can try to call Dot,” she says, like this is all some big inconvenience to her, which is really very rude considering that Fatin and Dot are stellar neighbors. Plus Dot is almost Leah’s friend, so…Fatin is a friend by association. Or whatever. “Do you have anywhere you can stay in the meantime?”

“No, I live here now,” Fatin says sorrowfully, stretching out onto the horrifyingly sticky carpet floor. “Hey. Wait a second, I can just crash with you!”

“Uh,” Leah casts an uneasy glance over her shoulder. “My roommate is asleep, and the place isn't really fit for…company.”

“Are you really going to make me beg twice?” Fatin says. “Cause you know I can do it. I will cry on your doorstep. That is a threat and a promise.” She sits up, determined, as Leah continues to hesitate. “Come on! Take pity on a poor, drunk, damsel in distress. I have a stupid chem final tomorrow—are you really going to let me suffer out here all night?”

“I guess you can stay until Dot’s back,” Leah says, finally opening her door all the way. “But you have to be really quiet. Rachel will kill both of us if you wake her up.”

“Rachel loves me, don’t even worry,” Fatin says, downing the rest of her beatbox in one go. Or mostly, anyway, because some of it spills out of the corner of her mouth. Whatever, it’s not like the carpet hasn’t seen worse spills.

Leah doesn’t attempt to hide her wince. But she also does not take her invitation back, so Fatin counts it as a win.

“I’ll get you a phone charger,” Leah says. A beat. “And some water.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Fatin says, sinking onto the couch with a deep, satisfied exhale. “Any chance you have food? I would actually kill for something deep-fried.”

“We probably don’t have much, but you can look,” Leah’s voice fades out as she vanishes into the bedroom, and Fatin doesn’t need to be told twice.

Probably is too kind a word—there is absolutely nothing to eat at all, beside a stack of individual meals in tupperware that are aggressively labeled “Rachel.” Fatin abandons the fridge and rummages through the cupboards instead, finding her saving grace in the one constant of any college diet: instant ramen.

Before Fatin can even tear it open for an attempt at (drunk) cooking, Leah comes back, and she eyes Fatin up and down like she wants to say something but doesn't. Except: “I found a charger.”

Fatin hugs the ramen to her chest and can only stare. “That's not an iPhone charger,” she says. “Oh God, are you an Android girl?”

Leah frowns. “What’s wrong with having an Android?”

“I am so sorry you live in the dinosaur age,” Fatin says, crinkling her nose in disgust. “Forget it, I’ll have to borrow one from Rachel in the morning.”

“So now you’re staying the night?” Leah doesn’t even try to hide her unease at the idea.

Fatin huffs. “Oh relax, I’m not trying to sleep in your bed or anything,” she says. “Just let me crash on your couch, c’mon. Don't be a dick…please.”

“Fine, whatever,” Leah says, obviously affronted at the idea of being called a dick. “You’re not going to throw up, are you?”

“No, I will not throw up on your precious couch. Damn, you’re judgy.” Fatin goes right back to her unopened ramen in a futile attempt to open it with her nails (they’re a new set, and too expensive to break), before Leah finally sighs and takes pity on her.

“If I make you something to eat, will you be quiet?”

“Can you even cook?” Fatin snarks right back, but Leah plucks the bag from Fatin’s hands without taking the bait.

“Bathroom’s the first door down the hallway,” Leah says—an obvious dismissal—and Fatin would be offended if she didn't have to take a piss.

The bathroom mirror has seen better days, cracked right down the middle like something out of a horror movie. Fatin’s mascara-smeared face reflects back at her, and she halfheartedly scrubs at the marks until she looks more alive.

When she’s done, she re-enters the kitchen to find Leah poking the bubbling Ramen with a fork and inspiring zero confidence that this girl can even cook. The fact is only driven home when Leah asks,

“Do you want cheese?”

“Cheese?” Fatin repeats. “Am I a fucking mouse?”

Leah rolls her eyes. “On your noodles.” She waves a Kraft single between two fingers, and Fatin officially loses all respect for this girl.

“Ew, no way,” Fatin says. “That stuff's practically radioactive.”

“Then here.” Leah pours the soup into a bowl, immediately moves off to rinse out the pot and clean up the minimal mess from her efforts.

Suddenly, Fatin feels the tiniest bit guilty. Maybe she's not exactly the best house guest…or whatever. “Wait, don't you want some of this?”

Leah twists to look at Fatin, and she's noticeably perplexed at the offer. “It's three in the morning.”

“And?” Fatin waits for a better answer. Leah doesn't give one.

So that's how they end up splitting instant ramen noodles, Leah with (gross) cheese on hers and Fatin with a generous helping of Sriracha on her own. They put the TV on mute and read the subtitles for a horrible black-and-white movie on Netflix, and a thought suddenly occurs to Fatin.

“Hey, is this a date?”

Leah chokes. “What?”

“We’re having dinner and watching a movie,” Fatin says. “This is more wine and dine action than I’ve seen in years.”

“I’m just keeping you company until Dot comes home or you fall asleep,” Leah says. “God, you’re a lot more self-centered than Dot says.”

Fatin narrows her eyes. “She told you I was self-centered?”

“She said self-involved, actually.” Leah carefully drinks some soup from the rim of her bowl. “And you’re also drunk. I wouldn’t go on a date with a drunk person.”

“So you’re saying you would consider a date with me when I’m sober?” Fatin asks, and Leah turns a bright shade of red.

“No,” Leah says, and continues eating.

“That would be a lot more convincing if you didn’t keep staring at my tits,” Fatin says, unfazed as she waves her chopsticks in the air, and Leah chokes all over again.

(It’s certainly going to be something to revisit in the morning, in any case).

[eccentricgrace]

All The Small Things || IronDad

summary: this time tony is hurt, and peter's not nearly as put together as tony pretends to be while fixing him up

tags: field medicine, banter, hurt/comfort, humour, peter being a little shit, tony being a big shit, implied hostage situation (they'll be fine)

wc: 1,563

cross-posted on wattpad under the same name!

"It's not looking good, I guess we'll have to amputate," Tony said dryly.

Peter's hands flurried over the bleeding wound, panic making the tips of his fingers go cold. There was so much of it, sticky and warm as it soaked through the torn pantleg.

"Shit," he breathed. "Shit, shit, shit!"

"Wow," Tony wheezed out. He grimaced as he held a hand tightly to his calf, trying and failing to staunch the blood at its source. "That's quite the colourful vocabulary."

Peter disregarded him. He swallowed thickly, looking around his surroundings in a frantic haze. There's really nothing to use for his benefit— the cell they had escaped from was narrow, cold, empty. Each hallway since that had been the same.

A winding building in the middle of nowhere, all grey walls, no windows. Tony had nothing. He had been grabbed in his suit, but he didn't have any connection to any servers, internal or external. No Karen. No tech. No medical supplies. A perfectly normal Friday morning.

He focused back on Tony, who in the dim light, was going paler by the second. Judging by his jackrabbit heartbeat, Peter's best guess is that he's gone into shock.

He took his own steadying breath, schooling his expression. He looked Tony in the eyes, keeping his jaw set. "Mr. Stark. It's gonna be okay."

"I know," Tony said with an eyeroll. "I've survived worse. I know. Jesus, kid. Calm down."

Calming down was, believe it or not, the very last thing on Peter's mind.

No, he was wracking his brain for anything, bits from medical journals MJ had linked him on the few (read: many) occasions that she scolded him after patrols, pieces from times where he was in Tony's position; and F.R.I.D.A.Y. gave instructions at rapid speeds while he usually was limp on the floor of the med bay.

Tony pushed himself backwards weakly, sweat gathering at his temple. "Kid, I need to get my leg up."

"Yes," Peter immediately chimed. "Right. Yes."

He helped Tony get situated against the wall, and held up Tony's leg carefully. At least with super strength, his arm wouldn't get tired. He quickly apologized when Tony winced.

"Okay," Peter fidgeted, looking wildly up and down the halls. "What do we do? How do we get out of here?"

"Well, hey." Tony rapidly tapped on Peter's chin, and when he finally looked over, he kept hold of his jaw to steady him. "Stop wandering. Keep your eyes on me for a second."

Peter jutted a nod, the motion tight in Tony's grip. His wide, beseeching eyes locking onto Tony's dilated ones, ready for the man's instruction. His anxious fingers taking refuge in their cling to Tony's bloodied pant leg.

"Breathe," Tony said firmly, shaking Peter's face in emphasis. "You need to calm down. That's an order, Mr. Parker."

Meanwhile, the idiot—sorry, he didn't mean that—was starting to sound out of breath, and Peter could see the way his eyes struggled to keep focus.

"You're in shock," Peter said, bordering on a frenzy. "Sorry if I can't just 'calm down', Mr. Stark, but you're bleeding out and I don't know where we are and—"

Tony gasped for a breath, and Peter's mouth shut immediately, his teeth clacking together.

"Listen," Tony said again. "I swear to God, kid. We're not getting out of this alive unless you trust me. Do you trust me or not?"

"Yes. Of course. Obviously."

"Okay, then shut your trap." Tony shifted uncomfortably against the wall. His lips looked bluer than Peter remembered they did a few seconds ago. "I need to lay down. You need to— hey, focus."

"I'm focused! I am focusing! Shit, lay down," Peter caught him by the shoulder as he started to sway, and gently guided him down to the floor. Tony's grip on his chin finally went lax. "You okay?"

"Peachy. Tie my leg up. Use something. You're gonna tie it there," Tony gestured vaguely to the area above where he'd been sliced. "Keep pressure on it after you've done that. Hey--"

Tony grabbed at his arm, looking at him gravely. Peter went still. 

"It's going to hurt," Tony warned him. "It won't be pretty. I might scream, I might kick, or pass out. You can't worry about me if I do. Tie it tight. Understand?"

A shiver went up Peter's spine, and his body felt like he was floating. Tony's fingernails digging into his arm is the only thing that kept him grounded. He swallowed thickly and put on a brave face.

"Okay," Peter nodded quick. "Okay, yeah. I can do this. Don't worry, Mr. Stark. You're gonna be okay. I won't let you die."

"I know."

Peter looked down at his suit, its stretchy material, and immediately decided its fate. He tore the sleeve, which took a considerable amount of effort. That would be an impressive note to tell Tony if it didn't directly translate into the damage he was causing.

"So sorry about this," Peter said first. "Try not to bite your tongue."

He wrapped it just above Tony's knee, just where the muscle of his thigh started. The stretchy fabric assisting in the makeshift tourniquet, he began to tie it, using his strength to draw the torn suit's scraps taught. 

Tony yelped, thrashing his leg back instinctively. It was awful. Every discordant scratch of his voice shrill and pained, coming right from his gut, torn out from his throat. 

Peter hesitated, the sound making every nerve in his body cringe. In that split-second, he never wanted to hear Tony scream like that again. 

Still, he had a job to do-- and even though he didn't want to hear the older man's screams, it would always be better than hearing his heartbeat stop. He wrenched the fabric impossibly tighter, and tied it in a double knot. 

Tony lurched backwards, but Peter was stronger, and kept a firm grip on his leg. He pushed down the pressure on the wound and wouldn't let go. He tried not to think about the blood on his hands.

"Motherfu—" Tony tossed his head back, hitting it against the concrete with a dull thud. He gritted his teeth and hissed loudly. Another pained growl. "You son of a bitch—"

"Now whose language is colourful?"

"Kid—"

"Sorry, nervous. Sorry."

Tony heaved in deep breaths, his eyes shut tight. He was so pale, almost shivering on the floor. Unsteadily, he looked up. "Is it bleeding still?"

"Not as much," Peter told him. "But you didn't pass out, so that's good."

Tony made a disagreeable noise. He inhaled deeply, and nodded, if for nothing else than for Peter's sake. "You did good, kid. I'm okay."

"You're definitely not."

"I will be, then. Stop arguing. Little shit."

"Big shit."

"That was weak."

"You're weak," Peter fired back. The banter eased the twists in his chest, pulling them loose. He shook his head. "How do we get out of here? You can't walk."

Tony scoffed, making a limp, aborted movement with his arm, as if he had went to whack Peter upside the head, but decided he couldn't. "I can walk. It'll hurt like hell, but I can walk. We can't just sit around here."

Peter shook his head vehemently. "No. Nuh uh. Listen, we cleared out the whole place. There shouldn't be any more guys. My senses have been quiet ever since we took the last one out."

"Your point?" Tony asked, tilting his head forward. His eyes had some light back in them, though, and there was an interesting creased in his furrowed eyebrows that said he was thinking fast at Peter's words. Usually when he got that look, it meant he was figuring out the kinks of Peter's plan before he actually got to spit its steps out.

"Stay here," Peter said, as if it were obvious. He stood up, pacing back and forth in front of him. "We turned the control panel on earlier already. If the Avengers haven't already found us, they definitely will soon. If you stay in this hallway, and I can go and find a way to the upper levels of the building."

He thought it was a pretty good plan. Tony wouldn't have to move, and they'd make progress getting out, too.

Tony raised a finger to interject, and Peter's shoulders dropped like he'd been kicked.

"One thing," Tony put his hand down. "If people are already going to show up, then there's no reason for you to go walking around. Let's not get separated."

"But I--"

"What, you don't want to stay with me?" Tony frowned. "I'm not cool and hip? Do I smell? What is it?"

Peter sighed, but relented, plopping down beside Tony. He tried his best to relax, and get cozy for the long haul. If he had to be stuck with anybody, he's glad it was at least Tony. "You do smell. Is that a new cologne?"

"Yeah. Eau du Blood. Like it?"

"No."

"Me either."

They were quiet for a moment. Peter stared at the tourniquet on Tony's leg and quietly fretted, until Tony noticed and pulled him in around his shoulders. He leaned easily into his side.

"I'll be okay, kid," Tony repeated, his voice warm. "Seriously. And if nobody shows up in three hours, then we can talk about your plan again."

"Promise?"

Tony squeezed his shoulder. "Promise."

[the-firebird69]

These people instigated our son to shout now he's decided not to go there. Ken will have to do something and others it's the right thing to do.

--in addition to what we mentioned so far we are witnessing another battle. It's a world war but they're fighting in their separatist cities over ships bja was just beginning to get involved Terry cheesman is fighting like hell there are a lot of people getting into it and we are witnessing them going after each other very hard. When are the group sits fighting real hard are Trump's versus bja obviously but they are fighting at the financial centers and people did not expect bja to get into it that much it's kind of sitting around farting blasting out threats and stupid things now he's at them. It's a good thing this is terrible Trump's horrible he's a pig who's going down Satan is there a problem but each group has them. This battle is very small it's like 0.0013%, it's getting bigger but it's very important and it's a nerve center it's also at the food and water supply however Cherry cheeseman is at it and the fight in a separate cities is where and over all of it and he is causing 0.3% damage up to 1.6% per day for the morlock not including pseudo army losses. It was still about 45% of the population but in less than 2 months it can all be gone at this rate. Something else would happen in the pseudo empire would get beaten or not 75% of the deaths are from that war. There's one event that will open it up a lot that's the pseudo empire basis in the Midwest another event will open it up completely. That is the ships and actually that will happen because of those bases out there they'll take the ships and then they'll try to go to Venus that will be Trump the pseudo empire will stop them and be brief then they will because it'll draw out Tommy half the exact thing people think would stop them and it'd be a big mess but the big point would be that the warlock will lose the ships all of them we think Tommy have still has a very large formidable flert by comparison but the pseudo empire will feel cocky because they'll have death stars and ships and everything that bja and the rest of them have which is about 40 million ships with a death star compliment for each fleet and there are five fleets and it's formidable and it might be able to hold Tommy f off for a while with the pseudo empire Force but they won't win the war the pseudo empire will be defeated we feel Tommy f will call the ships off Earth because they have artifacts and people on board and will try and use them to defeat the pseudo empire fully and after that goes back to what BJ said we're going to end up going in the ground and that's how it's going to go and he probably figured it out.

--there's other things happening but this would represent another big chunk no this would come from this war with the pseudo empire which is most of the death and they're both morlock

And the power source said iron Man is using is not the same as the one that is going to make is not true he went through I didn't our son helped him design it and they're talking about making a a ride for Tony Stark and iron Man at the universal people like it the sun says is all such a cool stuff you could do really it is there are ideas and things you can do he wants to have like a laser tag game where you could have the mask and you'd wear an arm laser and you can buy them there too and they're just plastic but they're authentic looking like a cosplay and you fire up for a laser tag off your arm and you'd wear the chest piece and it would be the full chest and it would have points on it you'd have to hit and some people could get the helmet and rent it and you can buy the whole set for a laser tag people are interested they like it and they'd wear pants and stuff to match jeans are not bad they're blue this is going on now and it's going to be an interesting day

More shortly

Thor Freya

This incident with the hospital denying him ability to call them was recorded by the health department and they're looking into it and it's all the other groups and they hate these assholes what he said on the phone was nothing threatening or rude except that you call the police because she's obviously a stonewalling him too and they're investigating her and they should we know what they're going to do they're already decided today they they said they're going to arrest them and put them on trial and get them out of here they should too

Thor Freya

Not only is this a disgrace but these people are complete blasphemes and they're lame they don't do anything we need them out they're going to get out he says by force good

Stan

Olympus

[onebadwinter]

Panting, Flash frowned, he wasn't feeling like being this chatty about everything. But something felt welcoming about the other, they were at least talking to him in a way that he wasn't really familiar with. Most people just brushed him off as a guy too full of himself. But he was so much more than that, and he really felt like he could be someone great. If only he didn't have all the other stuff in his life getting in the way. The stuff he pretended weren't even an issue. Or didn't even exist for that matter.

"Apparently the only sucker punch life ever gave Parker was dead parents." Flash mumbled in response, not even at all to Jason's comment, just in general. For years now, since at least middle school, Peter was always outshining him. No. Maybe even before that, actually, Peter was always everyone's favorite. Peter was always good at pretty much everything else. Even without his parents, he had Ben, he had May, and as a kid, when Flash had been witness to this…love, that the three had for one another. It opened up a void inside him when it did dawn on him…He didn't have it. May was a good example of what mom should be, and Ben was a good example of what a dad should be. But each day he had to go back to his empty mansion, where neither existed, and exist still.

Flash pulled his head back "It's fine, dude. I've dealt with it my entire life. I'm used to it." He tried to be liked, but clearly it wasn't working. He knew that, but still, he had nothing else to offer. Becoming Peter's rival wasn't exactly what he set out to do. But time and time again, he was always pitted opposite him. There was always that, once Peter joined him in his preppy schools, and then in Midtown. Everywhere he went, Peter was there. Everything he tried to be good at, Peter was better. How was he supposed to react to that? The only thing he had to fill the void, was to be good at something. But Peter was always there, was always better. Or at the very least, was better than him, something their main friend group did not let him forget.

As Jason went on, he shifted, not really sure what he was doing "I'm not hurting myself. I'm working through it." He grinned, giving a shrug. Yeah, he worked harder than he needed to, or should have, sure. But he knew he had to. That's where the bar was set. With his poor ability to speak in public, he was made out to be stupider than he actually was. He was told constantly that if his parents weren't rich, he would be too dumb to participate. Or he wouldn't be going to Midtown at all. Which wasn't true. He had more than just a overconfident ego going on when it came to his apparent stupidity and the more it was pointed out, to him, the more he buried and hid it and tried convince himself he didn't have these issues, too.

Swallowing, Flash laughed "Well yeah, I know. I want to be like Tony Stark one day! I'm going to build, great things. Discover …new things." He revealed, he didn't really talk about this kind of thing, obviously, being told he wouldn't amount to anything really made it all sound silly to him, just as much as it sounded silly to others that he would try and compare himself to a man seemingly much more intelligent than him, when even Peter Parker was outdoing him in the most mundane of subject material "Of course, I'd also like to be more like Spider-Man…" Which was the real person he idolized overall "He has these cool web-things….Slingers! Yeah! And he sticks, he's sticky, so he can stick to walls." Posing then as if he were sticking to a wall " It would be so awesome to be like one of those two!" Or even a mix of both! He imagined.

"It kind of, hard to move away from something like that, isn't it? When your entire formative years is kinda, you know, hinged on being compared to others…" He blinked then "But you don't even know me. Why would you offer that?" Flash tilt his head a little bit. At the statement of being taken to the paramedics he held up his hands "Nah! It's all cool. I don't need any of that-" Sucking in a breath, he held it, then released "See. I'm breathing just fine." Blinking, he glances, searching, from side to side as, considering the request "Heh…Yeah. I, uh. I guess. I can-" He was good at that. Except for in these kinds of situations, even if he lacked the entirety of self preservation that others seemed to have. Maybe that wasn't the worst thing in the world to lack, either. Because he could use it, to become like the heroes he idolized, and one day wished to be, himself.

Jason's eyes remained locked on Flash, studying the younger boy's troubled expression. He understood the crushing weight of pain and the relentless struggle to prove oneself to a world that seemed indifferent. He knew what it felt like to be an outsider, searching for a purpose in a universe that often felt cruel and unyielding.

"Yeah, life can really sucker punch you sometimes," Jason replied, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "But you don't have to bear it all alone, you know? There are people who actually give a damn about you, even when it doesn't seem like it."

He hesitated briefly, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. "I get it, the desperate need to show everyone that you're more than what they expect. But hurting yourself or pushing people away won't get you there. There are other ways to prove your worth, to find your place."

Jason's lips curved into a faint, wry smile. "You've got potential, Flash. But you gotta stop seeking validation from others and start believing in yourself. And if you ever need someone to talk to or lean on, I'm here. No judgment, no strings attached."

With a subtle gesture, Jason extended his hand towards Flash, offering genuine camaraderie. "Let me take you to the paramedics, get you sorted out, and then I'll back off, alright? But promise me this—you'll start taking care of yourself, too. You damn well deserve that much."

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being an Avenger with the power of invisibility

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: not my strongest work, but it’s something

prompt:

being a very popular SHIELD agent/spy

“you might be invisible, but nat still does a better job of not being seen” -clint

“are you kidding? natasha is all anyone looks at when she walks in a room…shut up, i didn’t mean it like that” -you

“of course you didn’t. i’m telling her you said that” -clint

so you having feelings for nat was always an inside joke, no matter what or who you liked

being added to the avengers roster for obvious reasons, powers and sneakiness

whispering in peoples ears, friend and foe alike

“this is your subconscious…you need to go sleepy time” -you

“very funny, y/n. let me work please” -tony

sam has to wear his goggles inside to read for heat signatures so you stop sneaking up on him

“i can see you, y/n” -sam

“no, you cant” -you

“yes, i can” -sam

scaring enemies shitless

whether it be tossing little things nearby, knocking things off desks, brisk breeze beside them, maybe a poke or a tickle

“uh, sir? i think…i think there’s a ghost in here” -goon

“that’s pathetic, there’s no ghosts in here” -bossman

“boo!” -you, “oh my god, you should see the looks on your faces…and the stains on your pants!”

the avengers determined to prank you…desperate really

“guys, don’t you think ‘paint-bombing’ y/n is a little immature?” -steve

“psh, no. why would you say that?” -tony

“because that’s so last year,” -you, appearing out of nowhere *cue half the team screaming* “come on, guys, how many times has that one backfired on you?”

forgetting that you are invisible sometimes and running into people

“hey, watch where you’re going!” -you

“y/n?? i was!” -clint

nat’s 6th sense is knowing you are in the room

it’s actually your mission to scare her

“aww, are you watching me? that’s so cute” -nat

“are you guys still making jokes about that?!” -you

“well, you aren’t doing anything to help your case, gonna ask me on a date ever?” -nat

“natasha, you are the worst” -you

always getting a good laugh with new recruits

but after a while, most caught onto your games, so you had to get creative

like set up “traps” that made it seem like you were near, but stay nearby to shock the room

“is someone in my room?” -wanda

“don’t look at me. or wait—do look at me. im right here” -you

“why can i hear my guitar strumming, then?” -wanda

>:) you got nat on board with your schemes

making things float a ton

which always amused thor and even rhodey

“wait, hold on. put this over tony’s head” -rhodey

*cue you holding a lightbulb over tony*

you were always the “movie magic” of the team

as for missions, you were obviously always stealth

stealth and strategy

they never saw you coming

“sucker” -you

“who said that?!” -goon

they sure heard you, though

“did you just blow your cover?” -natasha

“dude, i might have” -you

disappearing for days at a time, just shuffling around the compound

they knew that meant you were upset

“y/n? y/n, where are you? we have board games and cookies” -tony

“what kind?” -you, a few rooms over

“cookies or games?” -tony

“both” -you

cheating and moving game pieces while invisible—i mean “going to the bathroom”

“son of a—they did it again!” -tony

eventually learning to control certain parts of your body

which made pranks MUCH better

“hey, wanda, could you give me a hand? i seem to have misplaced mine” -you, with an invisible hand

“out, no, absolutely not” -wanda, trying not to burst into laughter, “i’m sure steve will help you, go find him”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @lxncelot // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @popeheywardssecretgf // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @confessions-of-a-adhd-teen // @itachisdangos // @nekoannie-chan // @punk-rock-raven //

[cerealforkart]

The third round of dress up dolls take us up to date!

Design notes under the cut

[part 1] [part 2]

Lincoln

* A fun fact about Lincoln’s dinner party look is that you’re never going to see any part of it again because it got ruined by Tony Pepperoni’s blood! He threw it all out

* Lincoln has entered his depression sweatpants era. Tragic. You’ll also notice that both he and Scary stop wearing their friendship bracelets at this point

* I’ve got an extra bullet point so I’ll just talk about my general style guidelines for designing outfits for each of the teens here (excluding Papa John’s/Black Parade looks because Papa John’s they were all given uniforms and Black Parade they were all trying to fit in rather than dress in their own styles) Link’s clothes are obviously sporty, prioritizing comfort and ease of movement over style. Given the choice he would wear his soccer uniform, but he doesn’t really have that choice anymore

Scary

* Maybe the jacket or skirt for Scary’s dinner party look could come back someday, but the shirt got ruined when Link shoved her with his bloody hands so we probably won’t see it again unless she wants to upset him (which is possible lol)

* I love my Scary’s most recent outfit. I wanted to completely change her silhouette, which meant the dress and a big coat, and most notably the braid sorta reminds me of a scorpion tail, just ignore how her hair grows a couple inches to make it work

* Scary’s usual style is obviously dark colours, black, greys, purples, etc. and in the past I liked to keep to very segmented outfits, usually a sorta baggy t-shirt tucked into pants or a skirt, but as mentioned above, I wanted to completely mix up the silhouette, hence the big coat and single piece dress

Normal

* Normal’s been getting back into the Teen High spirit, he isn’t wearing the mascot suit again, but a Teen High hoodie is fair game

* Will’s mentioned Normal’s time at Summer camp a couple times now, so I thought a tie-dye camp shirt would be fitting in this time as he’s trying so hard to play councillor for his friends

* In contrast to Scary, Normal gravitates towards bright colours, and like Link, style is not a priority. I like to put Normal in clothes promoting his interests or things he cares about ie. Teen High hoodie, camp t-shirt, he’s probably got some Swallows Ice Cream merch I’ll put him in at some point

Taylor

* Didn’t Taylor lose that jacket on Earth? Yes, but like a good anime protagonist, he knows the value of iconic costume pieces and has seven of the exact same jacket

* I actually really love Taylor’s little coveralls with all the pockets. I sure would love to draw it. You might also notice that his glasses were briefly fixed upon returning home, but they broke again when Link kicked him in the face through the portal to Hell

* The jacket is a must for Taylor, both because I like it and because it’s his iconic anime protagonist costume. Keeping in line with Taylor’s survivalist thing, he usually sticks to earthy colours, with the exception being the bright yellow shoes which are so colourful to contrast with all the browns and greens. He also probably doesn’t own a shirt that doesn’t have an anime on it

Hermie

* No Hermie fit for the dinner party, he was busy

* I knew I wanted Hermie to wear the mismatched suspenders with one being Mr. Freeze’s ice theme and one being Poison Ivy’s plant theme because he got those characters at the same time in the Undergrove, the rest of the outfit fell into place around that

* Hermie’s style is overdressed nerd attire. Suits, vests, suspenders, I’ve never put him in a shirt that doesn’t have buttons, etc. tbh it’s the kind of outfit pieces that if I was back in highschool and saw a real teenage highschool boy wearing, I would start praying he doesn’t try to talk to me, but then it turns out he’s not wearing a blazer to school because he’s a wannabe business major, he’s just a Joker cosplayer! And that’s definitely worse.

[elizabethxolsenn]

Down.

Sub!Wanda x Mommy!Reader

The one where Wanda acts like a top.

Minors DNI

Warnings; G!P Wanda, Maria, Carol, Natasha, And Kate watch, Oral (W), riding, edging, cum in V, bondage, degradation, Dumbification, Mind invasion, Fluff (ig), After care.

Blackhill

Carol X Kate (let’s say carols in her late 20s.)

Wanda had her arms snaked around your waist while you were in her lap. Some of the avengers were hanging out.

“Wait- Who’s top?” Kate asked you and Wanda. Your lover straightened her back and cleared her throat. “Me obviously.” She smirked. You stood up and looked at her.

“Excuse me?” You said, anger in your eyes. “Come on babe, don’t be shy.” She said standing and pulling you by your hips. “Down.” You said stepping away from her grip. Her eyes filled with fear as she immediately went to her knees.

“If you don’t wanna see me punish the slut, I suggest you leave.” You growled through gritted teeth. “This’ll be fun.” Carol said as Tony and Steve left the room, leaving Kate, Carol, Maria, and Natasha. Kate began to get up. “You’re not leaving.” Carol growled, pulling Kate on her lap.

“Y/n please.” Wanda whispered from below you. “What did you call me?” You said bending down to her level. “Mommy. Please. I’m sorry.” She said hanging her head in embarrassment. Maria Chuckled

“Katie, baby. Would you be a dear and take off her pants?” You said, smirking. Wanda looked at Kate and the girls. “Well— uhm..” Kate Muttered.. She was a sweet girl, very innocent. “Do you not want to?” You say, in a sad, apologetic Voice.

“I want to! I’m just..yes ma’am.” She said quickly rushing to Wanda. She stood the older girl up and unbuttoned her jeans taking them off, as well as her boxers. “What do you say to Katie?” “Thank you..”

“Oh sweet thing..you’re so hard for mommy.” Natasha Whispered, assuming no one could hear her. You laughed, “you’re right natty.” She looked up, shocked that you heard her

“Lay down Wanda.” You said smiling. Wanda immediately laid down on the cold ground. “There you go..so obedient.” You whispered. You put laid between her legs as she took her shirt off. “Girls. I want you all to tell her what a dirty dumb slut she is.” You said after grabbing her hair and kissing her harshly.

“Mommy, I’m sorry.” She whispered, “shh, mommy’s gonna play with you.” She nodded and watched as you slowly licked the top of her dick, she moaned rather loudly. You went down and licked up her dick and then putting your hand on the base of it.

“You’re such a whore, look at all that pre cum…” Carol said, acting disappointed.. “S-Sorry, Carol..” “Dumb Bitch.” You whispered.

You slowly slid your mouth down her member, licking the tip every so often. You slowly bobbed your mouth up and down. “Faster, mommy please faster!” She moaned out, looking for something to grip. She knew better than to touch you during punishment.

“Don’t make demands of her!” Natasha said rubbing herself through her slacks. You went even slower, staring your girlfriend in the eyes. “ ‘m sorry Natty..” she mumbled.. you went faster, she thrusted her hips up, you pushed them down as a small warning. You bobbed your head fast, Wanda let out a loud groan as she hit the back of your throat. “Mommy! Please..fuck..”

You immediately came back up. “Watch that slutty mouth of yours.” You growled. “Yes mommy..” she mumbled trying not to buck her hips, “Mommy! I need to cum please..” she said tears forming. “Shut the fuck up.” You said, grabbing 2 handcuffs from your bag and cuffing her to the couch. “Mommy no..please..” she yelled.

“I’ll be back in a bit honey. Girls. If I find out your touched her, you’re next.” You said, walking up to your room. Kate got up and sat next to where Wanda laid. (And got laid) “Hey, It’s okay, You did so well for your mommy Wanda.” She said softly with a smile.

“T-Thank you Kate..” Wanda whispered with tears in her eyes. Kate got up and sat in Carols lap. “Baby. We’re supposed to Acknowledge her slutty behavior.” Carol said before kissing Kate’s Cheek.

“But she— Sorry Babe.” Kate said with a huff, she was very proud of Wanda, because she took it better than Kate would’ve. “Ria..Sweetie She need help..” Natasha said looking at Wanda, Maria scrunched her eyebrows. “Hm? You saw how she acted out, she doesn’t deserve it.”

“But! But she needs our help..Please..” Nat whispered, tugging at her wife’s arm. “Tasha what’s gotten into you?” Maria asked, cupping the redheads cheek. “Pretty sure Wanda has.” Carol said, drawing attention to the girl on the ground, who’s eyes were glowing red. Wanda immediately stopped. “Wanda. I’m telling y/n..” Maria Said standing up. “No! Please..I just need to cum..” She cried. Natasha looked at her.

She felt no sympathy for the girl, the only one who did was Kate.

////////////////

You came back around 30 minutes later, Kate was comforting Wanda, making sure to not touch her, Natasha and Maria were gone, and Carol was playing with Kates hair.

You looked at Wanda, who’s faced was tear stained. “Mommy..” she croaked, you immediately ran to her. “Don’t worry, mommy’s gonna fix it.” Kate said, “Right?” She asked, you nodded. You settled on her cock, and slowly bounced up and down, you didn’t want her to hurt from being sensitive.

“Mommy..cum” she whispered, barely audible. “You can cum baby” you said, wiping a tear from her face. She moaned loudly, as she came in you. “Mm, so good Wands.” You said getting up no letting the cum drop down your thighs. Kate stared, wide eyed. “Carol..” she whimpered.

“Did I pull your hair? I’m sorry Katie.” Carol said, truly concerned. “No, Carol I’m all icky.” Kate said, getting out of her girlfriends grip. “Oh sweet thing, let’s get you taken care of.” Carol said smiling.

“Let’s get you cleaned and In bed.” You said, un-cuffing your girlfriend. She nodded and immediately went limp when she was free. “Come on baby, let’s get you in the tub” you said picking her up. She nodded and buried herself in your neck.

You started her water and put her in. She immediately relaxed and sighed.Turing off the water, you grabbed her loofa and put soap I’m on it, lathering her arms.

“Mm, Ria told me what happened with Natty,” you said with a sigh, you heard her small gasp. “I’m very disappointed.” You said, staring to cover her chest area in soap. “I’m sorry mommy! I just wanted to cum.” She mumbled. You ignored her and finished bathing her body. You move to her hair.

/////////

After her bath, Wanda didn’t wanna wear clothes, which was fine. You never minded skin to skin. You laid her down and started taking your clothes off.

When you finished, you laid next to her, “hold me?” She whined out. “Of course dove.” You said after pressing a kiss to her shoulder, and before wrapping your arms around her waist. Wanda buried her head in your chest and smiled.

“I love you Y/n.”

“I love you too honey”

[refriedrambles]

Other Bos being the only one to really push back on herself destructive behaviors very tenderly. He points out her super clear hypocrisy and asks some hard questions without letting her run away from the conversation. She's just forced to sit in all these nasty feelings about herself she pretends she doesn't have and he's showing a level of concern for her she doesn't know how to navigate

Other Bos just being the voice of reason for a bunch of trainwrecks sounds fun

I was thinking about giving him my Purple hcs but I think he'd be better with Doomed Knights stuff instead

OH! OH! He's got post traumatic growth!

"You're just like him, but you're so different. Why is he so- so- UGh!" ----- chokes up with frustration.

"Stupid? Cruel? Asshole-ish."

---- nods.

Other Boston let's put a heavy sigh. "I... I used to be the exact same way... I wanna say cause I was young, but that's not true. I knew what I was doing. I felt like I couldn't help myself. Like it was the only way to have control over my life. People never act perfectly how ya want them to after all. I knew it wasn't working. That it wouldn't work, but it felt like the only thing I knew how to."

"That's pretty sad actually."

"No! No no no! (O'Bos isn't okay with that behavior being normalized or rationalized.)

----- asks how he changed

O'Bos gets really quiet but eventually says "I was forced to make a choice. (Something about seeing what he was and not liking it. Thinking about if that's how he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Looking past the glamour and power to the pain he caused to the people he actually cared about and himself blah blah blah)

"Fucker thinks he better then me with that nice guy act," Boston snarls.

"Lil' bit of an incelly thing to say there."

"Hey! I get laid!"

"Yeah, I'm painfully aware of that fact."

Boston smirks, his mood drastically improved.

"But is it an act?"

"What?"

Orville motions over to O'Bos and Toni. "All of that."

"Obviously! He's just trying to get into his pants."

She hums, not looking his way.

"I thought you'd be better than that, Orie, not falling for the same shit as Toni."

"Right. I'm just fucking swooning," sarcasm dripping from every word

There's a stretch of silence. Orville focuses on her work and Boston grows steadily more anxious and frustrated watching Toni flirt and Orville work and the fake flinch.

"What?! Just fucking say it already!" he snaps.

"You're both assholes. He's acting just like you do when you want to be sweet. Fuck, he's acting like you do when you're not pitching a fit. And I've seen him pitch fits over the same things you would. The big difference is he has fewer and doesn't make it everyone else's problem."

"So he is better than me?!" His fists shake.

"Are you gonna prove it? Right here?"

He punches a wall and hisses at the pain.

"Look, I never said that. Don't go putting words in my mouth."

"All you bitches can fuck off!"

"And you can find someone else patch up your hand."

"What?!" His angry posture shifts towards discomfort. Avoiding her eyes he lets out a straggled, "sorry."

With a sigh she gathers her things and motions him to follow.

WAIT

Bos gets a doppelganger at some point, but it's just a really nice dude. Like they clearly have similar personalities but clearly different morals and Toni is fuck swooning

Bos quickly susses this out and loses his shit, but instead of killing him as expected he blackmails him

I feel like a lot of Boston's stuff is attacks on his view of his identity as a result of how he treats others and that's pretty fun

Kinda tempted to use some of my Purple headcanon here, but I still want that to be it's own thing and I don't think Other Bos would ever really trust Bos. But like maybe despite everything they end up clicking super well? Maybe he lets down his guard cause he doesn't quite realize how much of a threat Bos is? Idk

Still haven't added his breakdown stuff to this yet, not sure who the other players would be tho

[iloveyourmommorethanyou]

ENCOUNTER~

Summary: you go out with Jisung and his friends at the club, when you make an unforgettable encounter.

TW: mention of alcohol, smoking and kissing.

10PM~

"Shit" you say, realizing that Jisung was going to come pick you up in only half an hour and that you’ve already been scrolling for two hours on tiktok..

You got up in a swift motion, rushing to your bathroom.

Before anything, you obviously turned on some tunes, because that’s the only way to put you in the right mood to go out. So you quickly turned on your hot girl music, feeling the beat of "the color violet" by Tony Lanez starting.

After rushing for about 15 minutes, you managed to get yourself looking pretty hot, at least you thought. You did your usual base, with a dark eyeliner look, which made you look fierce and mysterious, exactly the vibe you like to give off when going out, cause fuck it right? It’s so fun to be anyone you want for one night.

You quickly just gave your hair a brush, because it was already styled from the night before, but just a little tangled. You then rushed to your closet, stressing over what to wear. "Fuck, I should’ve thought about this earlier."

You throw a bunch of stuff you thought could work on your bed in a hurry. You go through everything and try to think of an outfit. You eventually just put something on: your trusty low waisted baggy jeans, with a lace tank top, a big buckled belt, high heeled black boots, a cute necklace, hoops, and finally you grabbed a leather jacket to throw on because it was getting rather cool outside at this hour.

*phone ringing

"Shit, Jisung" yo pick up your phone and answer. "Hello?" You say. "Hey I’m here." He says as you hear his loud music in the back. " shit okay ill be there in a minute." "Bitch don’t make me wait now!" He almost screams. "Hahha I’ll be right there"

You quickly spray perfume on your neck, collarbone and wrists. Then you throw the essentials into a red shoulder bag: the lipstick you currently had on, you phone, keys, wallet, cigarettes, and a lighter ofc.

You run to your fridge, and grab a Red Bull out, knowing you’ll need it before going out. Because god knows the nights tend to escalate with Jisung. You keep that in your hands, and run out the door.

…

As you walk outside your apartment building, you see Jisung, vining to music in his car, not noticing you. You laugh, then eventually knock on the window to signal him to open the door.

"Heyyy!" You both say, hugging. " damn girl you look HOTTT!" Jisung says immediately. "Oh thank you so much. " you smile. " you look hot too hannie." You say analyzing his outfit, basically the same black button down he’d often wear to go out, and black dress pants. "Okay let’s goo!!"

11:00 PM

You and Jisung eventually make it to the club after stopping a couple of times to go pick up his other friends. You didn’t know them all, but most of them.

There was Changbin, you knew him from school, him and Jisung often did music together. Then there was Felix, that you also knew, he was also your friend. But there was also a guy named Minho, you didn’t really know him, appart from the fact that Jisung was always at his place…

The girl to guy ratio in the car was highly unbalanced, but you were fine with it, since you knew almost all of them, and two of your girlfriends were already at the club anyway.

"Alright yall, we’re here." Jisung said, pulling into the parking lot. "Yeah!! Lets go " Changbin said, hyped. You all got out of the car and walked over to the club. Jisung and the others were going in already, but you were feeling a little stressed and agitated from the VERY social context you were about to go into.

"Hey guys, I’m just gonna take some air a little here before going in, I’ll meet you guys." You said, separating with them. Jisung understood what you were gonna do, and went in with the others.

You walked over to the side of the building, we’re no one was, and sighed. Leaning on the brick wall, you took out a cigarette and your lighter. This was gonna calm you right?

The light from the lighter illuminating your eyes, your brows furrowed, concentrated. You didn’t notice the man who was now also leaning on the same wall, only a meter away.

You took a drag, eyes closed, and only realized he was there, when you took the cigarette back between your fingers. He’s looking at you. Weird. You nod to say hi, then take another drag. The guy took a cigarette out from its packaging. Obviously he was also here for the same reason. He looked at you again, like you had something he wanted. "Do you have light? " he asked. Oh, you thought, of course, he just wanted something to light his cigarette. "Huh yeah." You reach in your pocket to grab your lighter and hand it to him. He thanks you politely. He places the cigarette between his full lips, and bringing his left hand out in front of it to block the wind. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. Brows furrowed just like yours were moments ago, you thought it probably looked sexier on him than it ever did on you. Once he lit it, he kept it there for a moment, between his lips, giving back the lighter. "Thanks"he repeats. You both lean back on the wall.

You were so in your head. You couldn’t help but to interiorly freak out over him. Why was he here, he could’ve gone anywhere else to smoke, and why was he so hot?!!?!

"Are you here with anyone? " the handsome guy asks, clearly bored. "Huh, yeah I came with some friends." You smile, dusting off the ash on the ground. "Cool, me too, I’m actually meeting them here." He added. "Cool" you simply say, thinking for a moment. "Wait but why aren’t you inside with them if you came here with them?" He asks, curious. "Oh well, I just wanted to have a moment for myself before putting myself into a very social environment.." you said, embarrassed, but truthfull. He giggled, dusted off the ash off his cigarette, then spoke again. " yeah, I get that, I’d say I’m doing the exact same thing. " " but you know, I’d be lying if I didn’t add the fact that I’m also just a bit of a going out smoker." You both laugh. "What do you mean by that?" You ask. "Like, I’m not the biggest smoker but, I do enjoy it a lot when I go out." He explained. "Yeah, me too." You smile. " It’s beneficial in many ways haha." You state. "Yeah? Like what?" He asks. "Like, it helps with social anxiety, plus it looks hot and mysterious." You say honestly. "Hahah, you do look hot and mysterious." He smirks, looking right at you. "Hmm, it’s also a great way to flirt, especially for you. " He laughs.

You toss your bud on the floor, crushing it with your boot. You smiled at him, getting up to head in. "Maybe I’ll see you inside", you say before leaving. "Yeah." He smirks.

"Ill just look for the hot and mysterious girl."

11:30 PM

When you went in, Jisung and the others were sitting around on a couch that circled around a table. "Heyyy!!"

They created you, clearly already under the influence. "Here, take a shot! " the encouraged.

Changbin poured some vodka into a shot glass, obviously spilling a little bit on the table. When you were about to take it. Minho shouted: "make a wish!" You laughed, what is this, a birthday cake? "Say it out loud tho" "and something for tonight!" Jisung added.

You thought to yourself for a moment. There was something you kinda wished would happen tonight.. "I wanna make out with someone!" You said loudly. Everyone laughed and watched your reaction as you took the shot.

Jisung put his arm around you. "I knew you’d say that." "That’s why I invited a friend of mine that I think you’d like." He said.

"What?! Jisung!" You were kinda pissed that he didn’t tell you beforehand. Knowing you’d be more nervous now.

"Don’t worry y/n, he’s a chill guy." "And he’s super hot." He insisted.

You sighed. "Alright."

"Oh, actually here he is." Jisung said noticing the guy coming over to the table.

When you looked back to where everyone was looking, you froze. It was him.

He seemed just as surprised as you.

"Hey Hyunjin! " "man it’s been so long." The guys got up to great him.

"Hey this is Hyunjin, the guys I was telling you about." Jisung said.

Hyunjin’s surprised expression quickly turned into a soft smirk. He held his hand out to you. "Hello"

You looked at him deeply. 'Hey" you shook hands.

You than smiled as well. "You guys know each other?" Felix asked.

"No no, I’m just surprised that Jisung is best friends with such a hot and mysterious person." He said smirking once again.

You laughed.

It was thrilling. Playing around like this. Only the two of you knew.

"Okay then. I think that the two who just arrive should take a shot." Seungmin said, handing one to each of you.

You looked up at Hyunjin, bringing your shot up to his in order to cheers. He looked back, and smiled shyly. You both tapped it down on the table, then bottoms up!

00:00

Midnight strikes. The vibe of the club suddenly shifts. It’s time for the real shit. I was never there by the weekend starts playing. "Oh shit" you couldn’t stand there anymore.

You couldn’t even think anymore. You grab Hyunjin’s wrist. He looked confused. "Come on we have to dance to this one."you drag him out of the booth and make way to the dance floor.

Hyunjin’s POV:

I was just sipping on my drink when the girl I met earlier grabbed my wrist. Why? I was so surprised. "Come on, we have to dance to this one." She said. God she was hot. I couldn’t help to let her lead me where she wanted to go. She was dragging me to the dance floor. Then she suddenly stopped and turned around. She smiled at me, swaying her hips from side to side to the rhythm.

God she looked good. The club lights hitting all the right spots, form her curves to her eyes. I was completely mesmerized.

"Come on, dance. " She had to say to get me out of my transe. I unfroze and started to match her pace.

She looked impressed. Then she inched closer to me, wrapping her arms around my head, resting them on my shoulders. "You’re good." She says.

"You’re pretty good yourself." I state, wrapping my arms around her waist. She smiled, eyes still locked with mine.

"I never got your name?" I say, desperately wanting to put a name on the girl I was currently under the spell of.

"Y/n." She says. I smile, satisfied with the sound of it. It summed you up perfectly. "I love It."

"Don’t forget it now." She states.

"I don’t think I could ever. " I couldn’t help but inch closer and closer to her, wanting her to feel everything I was in this moment.

She simply chuckles, and suddenly turns around.

I quickly understand her sudden action when she starts moving her hips again, back facing me. I place my hands on her hips, guiding her. Slowly but surely, our bodies inched closer, until I was pressed against her, head tilted in the crook of her neck.

Y/n’s POV:

My actions were clearly driven by alcohol at this point, and I knew with how blurred my vision was. But somehow I was completely in control of my body, I just simply had a lot more guts.

As I swayed from side to side, his hands on my hips, I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment. The music echoed in my ears. I could feel his slow breathing against my neck. Wow. His presence flooded me. I felt so connected. Attracted. I couldn’t let go.

We kept dancing for a while. Clearly it was a skill we both shared. Which was making people look. There’s something about two hot people looking hot together, and that’s exactly what you guys were.

Sweaty and out of breath, Hyunjin pulled you in to tell you something. " wanna go out for a smoke?" You could feel his smirk against your skin.

You pulled back and nodded.

1:00AM

Hyunjin followed you out the club, wiping away his sweat.

"Wow, that was a work out huh?" You exhaled.

He laughed, in agreement.

"You looked really good out there." He clarifies.

"Thanks. You too." You shy away and walk towards the same walk you first met.

Hyunjin pulls out a cigarette. He was in the same outfit, same position as when you first met him, but this time with slightly wet hair, and an even more lustful look in his eyes.

"Hey you want a light?" He says. You notice he has YOUR lighter.. "what?! Wait, how did you get that?!?" You ask surprised.

"Relax, i took it from your pocket while we were dancing. " he explains.

"Okay?" So you’re stealing from me now?" You asked still confused.

"No!" "I mean, yeah.. but it’s just because I thought I should light it for you." He said, before taking the cigarette he had in his hand and placing it between your lips.

You let him put it there. He then flicked the lighter open, placing the flame under the tip. You understood why he wanted to do that when you saw him staring at you.

"Thanks" you say smirking.

He smiles then does the same for himself.

"You know, I’m glad I met you tonight." He says.

"Yeah me too." You respond.

"I really feel like we’re alike in a way."

"Oh really? How so? " you ask.

"Well, we both like to smoke in social contexts, we like dancing, we’re both a bit socially anxious, and we’re super hot."

"You think I’m hot?" You say smiling.

"Well.. yeah" he shyly says.

You chuckle getting closer to him.

"What do you find hot?" You ask.

He looks down at you with poisonous eyes. "Everything." He states.

You laugh and look away. When you place you gaze back on his, you say: " can you be a bit clearer for me baby?"

He doesn’t speak for a moment. "Your lips. " he says softly.

"What about them?" You raise your eyebrows, acting like you don’t know what he wants.

"I really want them on mine." He says.

"You’d want that?" You say, inching closer.

He nods quietly. Still locking eyes with you, adding to the tension between the two of you.

"Then I should give you what you want." You continue.

Lips inches away. You stop moving for a second, to tease him.

An attempt that soon failed when Hyunjin impatiently took your face between his hands, closing the gap between you.

His lips were soft. He pecked your lips a couple of times before softly hitting at your bottom lip for permission to deepen the kiss. You slightly open your mouth, letting his tongue in. The kiss was passionate and needy. Your hands gripped on his brown locks, earning a soft moan from him. You smiled into the kiss, acknowledging the effect you had on him. But the way he grabbed your ass quickly humbled you down, when a moan escaped your lips. He had the same effect on you.

He didn’t know but,

Your wish was granted.

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

[scarlet-witxh]

Movie Night || Natasha Romanoff x wife!reader

Request: Could you do a Natasha Romanoff x Wife Reader where reader and Natasha are covered with a blanket while watching a movie with the team and during the movie Natasha has a hand down reader's pants and Natasha is dirty talking to reader while kissing up and down reader's neck with the team none the wiser

AN: 18+ only, minors, dni. mostly proofread, any mistakes are mine.

Warnings: fingering (r receiving), sex in the same room as other people, Nat calling r “slut” and “princess”

Word Count: 1K

Movie nights had become a central part of living at the Avenger compound. Steve thought it would help bring everyone closer together. You each got a turn to pick the movie/s that would be watched, every one slightly dreading tonight’s movie because it was Vision’s turn to pick. It’s not that Vision has bad taste….no it is, Vision picks the worst movie that are never enjoyable to anyone except himself and Tony. Even Wanda can’t pretend she finds his choice enjoyable.

Which leaves Natasha to find ways to distract herself from the boredom that comes with watching whatever Vision chose. Your wife never seemed to pay attention to the screen, finding you way more enjoyable. 

The blanket she brought to the living room was big enough to cover both of you and at least one other person if needed. You two always sat the furthest away from everyone normally, but tonight Natasha made sure you were away from everyone else. 

The movie had been playing for roughly 40 minutes already, and you’d be lying if you said you understood whatever was being said on screen. You always tried to watch most of the movie because always asked you for your thoughts afterward and you wanted to be able to say something relevant. 

You felt the blanket move slightly, not giving it much thought until you felt your wife’s cold hand on your thigh, right near the hem of your shorts. You gave her a quick glance but her eyes were focused on the screen but you knew she wasn’t actively watching the movie. 

You moved your hand on top of hers, holding it in place so she wouldn’t try anything. It was a silent gesture knowing some of your friends in the room had enhanced hearing and didnt wanna say anything they could possibly hear. 

Natasha shook your hand off of hers, this time moving it to the waistband of your shorts. She traced the skin right above the waistband, leaving goosebumps in her wake. Your hand gripped at her wrist, trying to get her to stop but you weren’t trying very hard because you knew she’d find a way to punish you later. 

Her fingers stopped their movements on your body, which made you think she was going to stop sp you dropped your hand from her wrist. That obviously was what she wanted because the second you let go, her hand was underneath your shorts and panties. 

Natasha leaned closer to you, and whispered, “be quiet princess, don’t want the super soldiers to hear how much of a slut you are, now do you?” 

To any of your friends it would look like she was resting her hand on your shoulder while you cuddled but in reality, her fingers were moving slowly between your folds. She brought her hand up slightly to your clit, not giving you any type of warning before she was rubbing fast circles over your clit. 

You had to bite your lip in order to stop a moan from slipping out. You could hear Natasha chuckle softly at you, enjoying how flustered you were. You were grateful the lights were out so your team couldn’t see the blush that covering your cheeks. 

Natasha suddenly stopped her movements on your clit, causing you to whine from the loss of contact which you had to cover up with a cough. Natasha waited a moment for you to compose yourself before slipping one finger into your core. One of your hands gripped onto the armrest of the chair you were sitting in, as you let out a small gasp at the feeling of her finger slowly thrusting in and out of you. 

Natasha kept her slow pace but added a second finger, this time curling them as she thrusted into you. You turned to look at her, silently begging her to go faster and hurry up so you wouldn’t risk your friends seeing you. Your wife gave you a smirk before speeding up her fingers, now three of her fingers were buried deep in you, hitting a certain spot over and over again. 

“Does that feel good, princess? Do you like when I fuck you in front of everybody,” she teased, not really looking for an answer. It’s not like you were able to give one either, you were too focused on being quiet. 

Natasha leaned more into you, moving her head down so she was level with your neck. She left kisses wherever she could reach, purposely trying to make the skin bruise. As she was marking your neck, her fingers were still thrusting into you at a fast pace. 

Both of you knew you were close, you were clenching around your wife’s fingers making it harder for her to move. 

“C’mon, slut, cum for me,” Natasha whispered quietly as she pulled away from your neck. 

You came quickly as she left more kisses on your neck. She slowed her fingers, helping you ride out your orgasm before eventually pulling out of you completely. You let out a quiet whine at the loss of contact, slightly out of breath. 

You watched as Natasha brought her hand out from under the blanket and up to her mouth, locking eyes with her as she sucked her fingers clean from the mess you made on them. A small moan fell from her lips as she tasted you, not caring if someone heard her. Luckily for you, everyone was either asleep or focused on the movie that was still playing. 

You didn’t bother trying to force yourself to watch the movie, you wouldn’t be able to focus on what was happening since your mind was elsewhere. 

You could only hope that this was just the beginning of what Natasha had planned for you after the movie was finished. She hates when she can’t hear you be loud for her, and you knew she would fuck you later and make you be as loud as possible to make up for having to be quiet now.

[im-in-love-with-pizza-bites]

Hello I love the way you write of Surprise tony x daughter reader could you do part two please. Wherein the reader is struggling to get better but it leads to worse. She's trying because of her family but deep inside she was tired and wanted to give up but she couldn't. The avengers could see it and they felt sad and guilt and so much feels especially tony. Even through that the reader is still happy and trying to hide the pain she felt so when its her father birthday, she decide to spend her time to them without knowing its her last time that the reader will spend her time. (In short she died) and also I wanted to see what happened next, what the avengers and tony felt after that. Sorry if its long request, I just want to find a very angsty fic and this one is the one I like the most. Gehehe I like angsty stuff. (Wanted to find a fanfic to cry on)

Goodbye

Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader, Avengers X Teen!Stark!Reader

Summary: The avengers and your friends find letters you wrote them before you died.

Warnings: death, death by cancer, leukemia, angst, sadness.

Reader's age: 16

A/n: Thank you for the request! We all need to cry sometimes so here we go, find part 1 Here. Enjoy.

You felt like you couldn't keep fighting. The chemo was helping last year, but still, on it, you were struggling more going in and out of the hospital. For the last few months, you just wanted to give up. The avengers were by your side through this, they were the reason you kept fighting. Even then you wanted to stop fighting. You couldn't do this anymore you hated it.

"Hey smalls." Tony smiled at you when you walked into the kitchen.

"Hey dad." You faked a smile that they all saw through.

"Uh for my birthday this year I'm not having a party it's just gonna be us and the team." Tony told you.

"Okay dad." You nodded taking a seat next to Steve. Mostly cause his shoulder made a great pillow. Leaning your head on his shoulder as you are the team looked at you sadly. Most of them watched you grow up. Knowing you were struggling this much was just something they didn't want for you.

"Feeling any better doll?" Steve spoke softly. You lied nodding. You felt worse.

"Yeah." They all saw through it.

"Here breakfast." Wanda passed you a plate.

"Thank you." You said weakly.

———

You looked down at the paper writing another note. You knew you weren't going to live long. You knew the avengers know too. You decided to write a note for each person you care about. You started with your dad, then Pepper, then happy and Rhodey, then you did one for each of the avengers and saved Peter and your friends for last. Your working on Peters now. You finished folding it up and writing his name. Looking at the stack of notes you sighed tucking them in a draw. If you did survive you didn't want them seeing these but if your weren't going to survive they find them her.

"Y/n?" You heard you turned around seeing Pepper standing there.

"Yes pepper?" You mustered a smile.

"The team is getting ready for Tony's birthday and they want to know if your going with them to buy him a present?" She asked you with a smile.

"Yeah sure." You said before falling into a coughing fit. She rushed to your side. "I'm fine I'll meet you all in the common room."

"You sure?" She watched as you nodded. "Okay sweetie. I love you." She kissed the top of your head after moving your hat slightly then tucked it back down and left.

You stood getting out of your oversized pajama pants that were definitely stolen from Steve and into sweats and a hoodie. Then you grabbed your favorite hat and left your room.

"Ready to go young stark!" Thor asked as you walked in.

"Yep!" You said.

—

"How do we shop for a guy who has everything?" Nat asked with a laugh as you guys walked into the mall getting plenty of looks.

"Well I used to just stick my hands in paint then put them on a piece of paper." You shrugged.

"That's not gonna work for us." Pietro laughed wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"Well obviously it's my move don't you steal my move you jerk." You pushed him off you. "Thooor can you gimme a piggyback ride?"

"Of course malady!" He lent down letting you jump on his back with help from Steve.

"Okay, so now what do we get him?" Bruce asked looking at you.

"Get him a Shawarma gift card." You shrugged.

"That's a pretty good idea." Pietro agreed.

"Everyone likes free stuff."

"She's got a point." Clint agreed.

"I always do." You said.

"I call getting him that." Nat declared. "You guys figure something else out."

"She spoke I can't change that." You shrugged when the team looked at you.

———

"Happy birthday dad!" You smiled when he walked into the kitchen where the avengers were waiting for him.

"Thank you, Smalls." He smiled.

"We made breakfast! Well they made it I supervised." You explained.

"You took a nap on my shoulder." Steve laughed.

"Well I was here for moral support."

"Fine." You stuck your tongue out at him.

"Whatcha make?" Tony asked sitting next to you.

"Eggs." Wanda smiled.

His birthday went smoothly, that night instead of his usually party it was spent with just the avengers, peter, happy and Rhodey. You were having a good time spending time with your family.

"Dad! I got you this." You handed him a baggy. In it was a photo album that had photos from when you were a baby up to now it had some of the avengers, some of peter some of Tony's parents it had any photos you could find in the storage room.

"I helped!" Peter said.

"Okay it's from both of us." You smiled at your dad.

"Thank you smalls, thank you kid." Tony higher you before smiling at Peter.

"Look through it." You said leaning your head on his shoulder. He gave in looking through the book.

"There's a lot of photos in here." He smiled.

"Yeah, I found them in a box in the storage room." You shrugged yawning.

Tony couldn't help but hope for many more birthdays with you falling asleep on his shoulder or laughing with the team. He leaned over placing a kiss on your forehead.

"Let's watch a movie now!" Pepper suggested.

"Happy feet!" You said smiling tiredly.

"Oka happy feet it is." Tony said.

———

You fell asleep during the movie, Tony took you too your room before turning in for the night himself. It was near 12 pm before anyone went to check on you.

"Hey Smalls wake up!" Tony said walking into your room. "Y/n?" He saw you laying still on your bed. Rushing to your side he checked your pulse before having Friday call an ambulance after barely feeling a pulse. The other avengers were also alert and came rushing into you room.

Tony and pepper were the only ones allowed to ride in the ambulance so the avengers met them there. They all had to wait in the lobby to find out if you were going to be okay.

"Doc what is it." Tony asked as he walked in.

"She's not going to make it. I'm sorry. I recommend you all go in one by one and say goodbye."

And they did. Only 5 hours after the final person said their goodbye you were gone. It broke them all.

It's that kind of thing they knew would happen but you were fighting so hard. Steve, Bruce, and Nat had a positive look on it. You weren't in pain anymore. They were still sad of course but they you were no longer in pain. Clint stayed in the vents for a while mourning. Thor went home to Asgard to mourn alone. Peter and your other friends took it hard, they all mourned your loss together. Rhodey mourned then offer support to Tony. Happy took it really hard, he acted like he hated you but didn't he loved you and the way every time he had to give you a ride you'd belt out to Disney songs just to annoy him. Pepper watched you grow up, she loved you as her own daughter and had a hard time saying goodbye. Tony was broken after you passed away he went home and locked himself in his lab he only came out for your funeral and memorial. It was a beautiful service, Tony spoke at it. Then when he broke down unable to speak during the eulogy he was giving Pepper took over.

Three months that's how long your door had been shut. No one went in. Pepper had convinced Tony to leave his lab. Tony was walking by your room to get to his own to at least take a shower. He sighed opening you door seeing it just how you left it. You dirty clothes sat in the basket, a messed up blanket, your stack of hats, your messy desk. He felt as though walking in a time machine he felt like you'd come over hug him. Your big smile as you tell him about your day. He sat on your bed rubbing a hand over his head. His hair was grown back now. He remembered when he showed you. How happy you were.

"Smalls? Can you hear me?" He asked with somber laughter. "I miss you hun." He sighed. "Uh I don't know what to say. I don't even think you can hear me. Tell me something." He wiped a tear away.

"I know I'm crazy you can't talk to me." He sighed deeply. "We kept your room the same. Nothings different.."

"I know you always said if you died you wanted us to go on with our lives, but," he stopped with a sob. "You were gone to soon." He looked down but caught his eye on your desk. Your phone was sat there.

He stood up walking over, he opened it feeling guilty about it but then he saw you had your notes app opened. The last opened not in it said: "remember to tell MJ about the notes in the draw." He furrows his brow in confusion. You never mention notes to him. Pulling the nearest draw open he saw twelve folded up pieces of paper each with a name.

"What did you do y/n?" He sighed digging through them before he came across the one labeled dad. He picked it up gently shutting the door before sitting in your desk chair. "You were prepared weren't you.." He opened the paper and began reading.

"Hey dad. If your seeing this then I am no longer alive. Or you're snooping through my things. I don't know how I'm supposed to tell you everything I'm thinking on this one peice of paper but here we go. Thank you for not turning me away when I showed up on your porch when I was 4 with nothing but a note, a teddy and the clothes on my back. I guess there's a lot I should thank you for. When I was diagnosed with cancer I was scared, now I just want it to end. I hope now that I'm gone you know that I love you. Just turn my room into something cool or I'll haunt you. I hope that you and Pepper officially get married on day, and you better save me a seat there or at least have a cardboard cut out of me with the bridesmaids. Please keep living your life dad, don't lock yourself in the lab like you do when you have a bad day. I'm sorry I couldn't keep fighting but I love you. I am thankful for everything you've given me. Bye dad - love Smalls.

Ps. Don't share embarrassing stories about me to anyone during my eulogy or I'll haunt you so hard."

He wiped a tear choking up. He couldn't believe you never told anyone you made these notes. Then again you were going to. He reread the note a few times before wiping his tears and tucking the note along with your phone in his pocket.

"Smalls... I love you." He sighed. "You got a point though... The lab isn't a good place for me to stay every day." He gave a somber laugh. "Guess I need to give these to the other right?" He looks in the draw.

"Tony? What are you doing?" Pepper asked walking in to the room.

"Uh.. What?" Tony looked at her. "Oh I got sidetracked. Come here." He urged her over. "Look what y/n left us."

"Oh my." She gave a sad smile looking in the draw. "There's a note for us all? From y/n?"

"Yep I read mine already. Find yours." Tony said holding his up. Pepper dug through the draw not finding one with the word Pepper on them but she did come across one labeled mom.

"Is this one mine you think?"

"I don't know." Tony shrugged. "Just read it babe." She unfolded it and read it in her head sitting on the edge of your bed as she did so.

"Dear Pepper Mom. Okay I know your probably wondering. Why am I calling you mom on paper but I haven't actually done it before. And that I say I'm too scared. But in this note you'll only see it after I'm gone. Uh I don't really know what to say. I guess my thoughts can run onto the paper if I would like. Well thank you for loving me as your own. Thank you for looking at my dad even when he had a 6 year old daughter and still dating him. Even though he's hard to handle. I don't think life would've been as good for me without you as my mom. I love you, and please don't let dad rot his life away in that lab. Love Y/n."

She wiped the tears away with a choked sob. She couldn't believe this is what you thought. Of course, she knew you didn't hate her but didn't think you thought of her as a mom. She looked up at tony and he gave her a sad smile.

"What did it say?" He asked, she just let out a shrugged leaning her head on her fiance's shoulder.

"Are you gonna tell the others about these?"

"Of course.. I'm going to have Peter deliver the ones to her friends, then we'll deliver these to the rest of them." Tony explained grabbing the few of the letters.

"Okay." Pepper wiped her tears then grabbed the rest of them.

"Friday call the team to the common room please." Tony requested.

———

"Mr. Stark? What's up?" Peter asked his father figure as he joined the other avengers on the couch.

"I found these... From y/n." Tony sat down the letters he grabbed then Pepper did the same. "Find your name." He finished before leaving.

"Okay... Then." Steve said leaning forward. "Uh thor." He pushed it aside since thor is in asgard. "Here nat." He passed her a letter going on until the last one. "Here pete." He passed it to him.

The avengers went their separate ways with their letter except Peter grabbed the ones for his friends. Peter swung to sit on a roof before he looked down at the letter, signed on the tope Spidey-boy. The I dotted with an heart. He unfolded it carefully.

"Dear Petey, your probably expecting to cry but this note is actually to tell you that there is a treasure chest filled with gold buried upstate at this location."

He let out a laugh before continuing to read.

"Okay I'm joking but seriously I should've done that. I guess I'm here to tell you to move on after me find new best friends to torment. I know it'll be so hard to move on from me but you'll do it. In ten years you might have kids, if so name one of them after me. Okay now I'll be serious, you're the best friend I could've ever had and I thank you for that. But I don't think I can keep fighting, so just know I love you - Love Y/n."

"I love you too."

———

Happy was confused when he too got called to the common room of the compound, especially since Tony hadn't really needed him for much. With Tony staying in his lab Happy was mostly driving around Pepper. Then he found out about the letters. He should've known though. You made a joke about it once on the ride back from chemo one day. Tony couldn't come that day because of a mission so it was just you and Happy.

"I should write letters to everyone just in case I die." You joked. "I saw it on a video once. These people were cleaning their daughters room out after she died and they found letters from her."

"Kid stop talking about death." Happy warned.

"Sorry." You mumbled. "Can we watch a movie together when we get home?"

He shook from his thoughts opening the letter. He's ready to cry.

"Dear Uncle Happy. So I see you finally realized not all of my jokes are jokes. I want to start with please keep dad out of his lab. I already asked both Pepper and Rhodey but I have to tell you for extra measure. So now I say sorry. I know I used to annoy you a bunch but you were one of the best people I know. And just between us don't tell Uncle Rhodey but you're my favorite uncle. I'm sorry I couldn't keep fighting for you and the rest of the avengers - Love Y/n." He rested his head in his hands.

"Kid." He chuckled sadly.

———

Life changed from there, Tony left the lab more often. The avengers went back to their old normal. Movie nights every Friday, seeing each other in the morning. They each did something different with their letter. Tony kept his in his pocket at all times. Steve kept it in his drawing notebook. Pepper had hers in her purse. Happy kept his in his car. Peter kept his in his bookbag. So on and so forth. But no one touched your room it is off limits. When any of them were having a bad day they'd go in there act like they could talk to you. Life was going back to normal, not in a bad way. They weren't forgetting you, they just knew from your letters you didn't want them wasting their lives away mourning you. And they didn't.

A/n: Sorry it took so long!!! But here it is I'm pretty sure this is my longest fic.

[sequentialprophet]

Fill for @wrestleprompts week 6 - You got a tattoo of WHAT? (Max Caster/MJF, NSFW)

He's been stomping all over the fucking arena look for Max goddamn Caster, who for once has managed to become a ghost, for hours.  Or what feels like hours at least. 

"Hey Max, how's it hanging?" Yuta calls at him. 

When Max looks over, Yuta is waving at him, surrounded by the rest of the Blackpool Suck Club. 

"Don't fucking talk to me," Max snarls back.

Mox wiggles his eyebrows, grinning, the absolute shithead, then opens his mouth. 

Max flips him off and keeps it moving. He definitely does not need to hear whatever that asshole was going to say. 

Worse than his coworkers waiting to make fun of him around every corner is the fucking poors Tony employs, thinking they could laugh behind their hands at him, which he had endured no less than six times in catering alone.

Max grits his teeth. He is going to tear Caster limb from limb. 

***

Frustratingly, Caster remains elusive. Max has been leered at, sneered at and catcalled more in the past hour than in his entire life. He makes the decision to retreat to his locker room and regroup. It's not running away, it's strategic.

Of fucking course Caster is there, waiting for him.

"Maxie!" he says, like Max has done something delightful just by existing in his line of sight. 

"You got a tattoo of what," Max snarls in response, immediately going for Caster's waistband, trying to rip his stupid sparkly tights off.

"Hey pal, c'mon, easy with the goods," Caster laughs, fending Max's hands off with an ease that just pisses Max off more. 

Eventually, Caster gets a hand flat on Max's chest and shoves hard. The tights rip out of Max's fingers as he staggers back a few feet.

"If you wanted me out of my pants, you could just ask," Caster says, acting coy, the absolute shithead.

Max is gonna kick his ass. He goes to step forward, but Caster winks at him and starts pushing his tights off.

While Max has never been someone to avoid hitting a man with his dick out, Caster is actually doing what he wants so he waits, teeth gritted.

"You want me to take these off too?" Caster asks, kicking his tights away and starting to pull his boxers down.

"NO!" Max yells, then follows up with, "Just go sit down," because Caster is looking entirely too predatory, standing there in his boxers and not a stitch else. 

"Oooh," Caster says, glancing over his shoulder and wiggling his butt, which Max was definitely not looking at. "You wanna see my tattoo."

"Apparently I'm the only person in the whole fucking company who hasn't seen your tattoo," Max snaps back. 

Caster drops heavily onto the bench and slides his legs wide, slumping down in a way that makes him look offensively big. His shoulders are ridiculous and his arms are -

Max drags his eyes back to Caster's, who grins the grin of a man determined to fuck up Max's whole day.

"Then come see." 

Max sidles closer. He's not afraid obviously, but he's known Caster long enough to have developed a healthy caution around him.  Especially when he looks as smug as he does right now.

"Well?" Caster says, staring intently at Max's face. 

Max glances down, then dives forward to get a better look because what the fuck.

The tattoo high on the inside of Caster's thigh is about the span of Max's hand and it's … very detailed.

And, incredibly, it does look a lot like Max's dick.

"It's life size."

"Fuck you, no it's not," Max replies automatically. 

Caster just laughs, like getting a photorealistic tattoo of your coworkers dick on your thigh is just a normal Tuesday shits and giggles.

"What the fuck," he repeats, because seriously, what the fuck.

Caster positively sparkles at him.

"I have a good memory," he grins, spreading his gigantic thighs wider so Max can get a better look at the dick.

Max moves closer, examining the tattoo critically.  It's really pretty close except for - 

"Not that good," Max says, triumphantly, pointing at where the tattoo dick curves gently to the right. "That's not how I lean." 

He goes to step back, maybe berate Caster a little for being a pervert and a degenerate, but Caster's thighs close like a bear trap, pinning him close. 

Four of Caster's fingers are immediately tucked in the waistband of his pants, tugging so Max has no choice but to move closer. 

"What are you doing," Max demands.  He'd push Caster off but he's concerned touching any part of him would just be encouraging him.

"Aren't you going to let me have a little peek?" Caster says, looking up at Max through his lashes. "To see where I went so wrong?" 

"I didn't say so wrong," Max argues, while Caster unbuttons the front of his pants. "What I meant was -" 

His words drop into a moan when Caster yanks his pants down and wastes no time getting a hand around him, big palm a shock of heat that makes Max shudder, his own hand dropping onto Caster's shoulder.

"Feels the same," Caster says, running his hand down Max's dick. 

"You've never touched my dick before," Max gasps, grunting as Caster strokes him properly, full length, just tight enough, palm twisting lazily over the head of his dick, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through his groin. 

"I touched your dick a bunch back in the day," Caster corrects, still working Max over slowly.

"Indies don't count." 

"They absolutely do, pal," Caster says, laughing against Max's mouth. 

It makes something twist in Max's stomach, thudding heavily through his hips, almost painful.  

He turns his head before Caster can kiss him properly, then regrets it when Caster redirects to his throat, sucking at the skin in hot little pulses that make Max hunch into his hand. 

"What is wrong with you." Max asks, digging his fingers into Caster's shoulder, whole world narrowed down to Caster's hand and Caster's mouth.

Caster laughs against his throat, making Max shiver, but he doesn't reply. 

In fact, he says nothing at all as Max whimpers and presses his hips closer until he spills over Caster's knuckles, orgasm punched out of him.

When Max is finally clear headed enough to pull back, Caster looks him dead in the eye and smears his wet knuckles over the tattoo. 

"Who the fuck gets a random dick tattoo just to piss off a coworker," Max says, back to mad now that his dick was taken care of.

"My boyfriend's dick," Caster corrects.

"I am not your boyfriend, and that is not my dick." 

"Are you gonna get your junk out and prove it?" Caster asks. "Because everyone here thinks it's your dick." 

Max splutters. Fuck.

"I hate you," he says, and really really means it.

Caster shrugs, then stretches in a way that draws attention to the fact that he'd really gotten into getting Max off.

The pervert.

"You wanna help?" Caster says, gesturing at his own dick, still trapped in his boxers but clearly hard.

"No," Max snaps, turning on his heel. "Be gone when I get out of the shower." 

"Sure thing sweetpea," Caster calls at his retreating back. 

***

When he does get out of the shower, miracle of miracles, Caster's actually gone.  So is a very expensive pair of Max's boxers, but he's going to chalk that up to necessary expense and move on.  All in all, despite the day he's had, he feels pretty good. 

That feeling takes a slight knock when he sees the mess Caster made of his neck, but luckily Max has just the scarf for the occasion.  Once it's wrapped around his throat, no bruises to see here, Max's good mood bounces right back. 

And it lasts all the way until he steps through his own front door and his twitter notifications start going nuts, phone buzzing merrily in his hand.

He stares at the tweet Caster tagged him in with growing horror.

Max should have known Caster would pull something like this. 

Caster is splayed on the bench in Max's locker room, clearly naked, Max's burberry scarf piled in his lap the only thing standing between him and another call with HR. The caption says 'Boyfie liked my tattoo' with a bunch of emojis Max would rather not interpret.

Max snatches the scarf from around his neck and throws it on the ground, narrowly stopping himself stomping on it in rage.

He hears the voices of a hundred trainers he's worked with in his head, "do not react to him", and promptly ignores them all as he stabs retweet and adds DELETE THIS for good measure. 

His phone rings six seconds later.

"Caster," he snarls into the handset.

"Oooh, you sound maaaaad," Caster taunts. "Have I been a bad boy?"

"I hate you," Max snarls. "I….I…"

He stalls, unable to think of a strong enough insult to encapsulate how furious he is. 

"Oooh, I have been bad," Caster says, sounding absolutely delighted at the prospect, the fucking reprobate. "Why don't you come over and punish me." 

There's a pause where Max can only hear Caster's breathing in his ear, and feel his own blood boiling under his skin.

"I'm on my way," he grits, ignoring Caster's "yay!" and grabbing his keys. 

"Maxie?" Caster says, right as Max is about to hang up.

"What?" 

"Bring the scarf."