#another addition to the mcu

[lostinthewoods-kristoff]

the spy who loved me 2: electric boogaloo || mistoff || valentines au

In Kristoff and Mitte get sent on another mission which, after Mitte becomes jealous of Kristoff being used as a honeypot to get more intel on their mark, quickly becomes more about their relationship than the mission...

Notes: first of all this is NSFW so read at ur own discretion. second of all i know valentines was 3 months ago but i don't want to hear it. third of all this is a sequel to an old valentine's au which i now dont know if we ever posted bc i cant find it but the tldr is that childhood besties and super spy duo kristoff and mitte got sent on a mission, tensions were high, things got steamy... and they never spoke of it again. and that's waht you missed on glee!

@mighty-mitte

KRISTOFF

It had been a little while since he and Mitte had last worked together – not too long, not long enough for him to have forgotten the… events of that last mission, but long enough for things to feel disjointed. Like they were out of sync. It was a strange feeling. The two of them had never been out of sync before, things had never been strange between them. Kristoff kept wondering if maybe they should talk; maybe they should have a conversation about what happened. But he sat through the briefing, silent. And he sat in the car on the way to the hotel, silent. Only now that he was standing in front of the mirror, debating whether he should undo another button at the top of his shirt or not, that he was considering saying something.

Because presumably when you’d accomplished a mission and then slept with your partner/childhood friend it was normal to discuss things? Even if it was just a line or two, something about seeing where things go or letting things drop or…. Anything. Kristoff would take literally anything if it would help him figure out how he was supposed to act around Mitte. For the most part he was just trying to keep his mind off of memories of a similar hotel room with a similar non-descript bed and a similar Mitte, with her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and–

Kristoff shook his head at himself, skin flushing pale pink. He had to get himself under control. Maybe talking about things would help. At this point, it couldn’t make them any worse.

He turned, looking at Mitte. “Feels kind of dumb that I’m the one that has to flirt, right? Kind of more your forte. I don’t even think I know how.”

Hm. That wasn’t what he meant to say at all.

But it was a genuine concern. Their mark for this evening, or his mark, anyways, was Eliza Goodfellow, the wife of an up-and-coming businessman who was quickly making a name for himself and definitely bringing weapons and stolen goods into the country and risking national security. Kristoff’s job, as given to him by his handler, was to try and charm Mrs. Goodfellow (who was apparently known for not being exactly faithful, which Kristoff thought made sense, ‘cause her husband didn’t seem like a nice guy at all) into giving them information on her husband’s whereabouts. By charming, they meant flirting, and Kristoff wasn’t good at flirting.

“I might scare her off,” He commented, head tilting as he considered the button situation again. He didn’t want to come on too strong. “Any tips?”

MITTE

Mitte could not believe they were here again. Arms dealer, hotel- a nicer one this time at least- and one goddamn bed. At least there was a refreshing twist; Kristoff all dressed up, ready to flirt for the information they needed. It was actually kind of nice to not be the honey pot for once. 

She was bugging Eliza's hotel room whilst Kristoff got the update on her husband, so Mitte got to wear jeans and think about security, instead of worrying about whether her dress was the right length, or if her hair was falling right. Almost every other guy they put her with suggested dangling her like pretty bait before they bothered to come up with anything smart. That was why she preferred being partnered with Kristoff, who didn’t look at her through the lens of how best he could use her, but how best he could work with her. Because they were friends. Best friends. Who had seen eachother naked. And hardly talked since. Well, hardly talked for how much usually talked, and frankly Mitte was surprised Kristoff's head hadn't exploded with the need to discuss their little tryst. Perhaps she should've taken mercy on him and brought it up, but she didn't want to upset the balance of their friendship any further, and she knew if the organization heard about what had happened they'd never work together again. 

But Mitte wasn't thinking about that right now, because the mission was what mattered, and Kristoff was nervous about his part. "If we had any indication she played for the right team, I'm sure I'd be the one getting all dolled up." She offered Kristoff a sympathetic smile over the top of the magazine she was pretending to read and let her eyes wander his appearance, assessing as much as appreciating. 

"You won't scare her off." She told him, stern but warm as she slipped off the bed to walk over and adjust his shirt collar, close enough to realize he'd put on cologne. He smelled good. "Tips… Tips…" Mitte cleared her throat and paid attention to his hair a moment, tussling it a bit with her fingers. "Don't let your words run away from you. Don't gesture too crazily, but don't stay too still. Smile. Hold eye contact." Which she had not done since she walked over here. Honestly she was tempted to ask if he'd rather a demonstration than an explanation, but that probably wouldn't end well. 

Finally, she looked up at Kristoff as she took a step back, considering that shirt button he'd been toying with. She thought he'd look better with it undone, but he wasn't trying to seduce her. Sadly. "You're better at this kind of thing when you don't think too much. Just let her do most of the talking while you try to steer the conversation. Keep your voice soft so she has to lean in, and a hand on her arm will work wonders." Mitte said, turning to rifle through their briefcase for earpieces. "if it sounds like you're really floundering I should be able to talk you through it, but I think you'll be fine.”

KRISTOFF

It wasn’t often that he was the one tasked with being the honeypot. To be honest he wasn’t sure he had ever been given that job before, not in all of his time as an agent– it was always Mitte. She was the one who went out there and batted her eyelashes and bit her lip and got all of the intel they needed, whilst Kristoff bugged hotel rooms and hacked into computers or tailed a mark. And it was no surprise as to why; Mitte was gorgeous. It was all too easy for an unsuspecting man to fall under her spell. Kristoff, on the other hand…

He swallowed thickly as Mitte’s hands reached for his collar, the brush of her knuckles against his neck enough to make him look up, focus on the sconce on the wall as he ran through the information he’d been given. Infiltration was nothing; he had done that before. Pretending to be a new hire at the office, or an international billionaire looking to do business, whatever it was, he had done it. He knew that you had to go in with as full a picture as you could, and then give absolutely nothing away. He was just worried, that was all. What if he slipped up? Screwed the whole thing over entirely?

He took a deep breath, looking down at her. Her eyes didn’t meet his, and he thought he was glad of it. He wasn’t really sure what he would do if they met. When she stepped away, heading for the case, he dropped his gaze to the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, and then glanced hastily in the mirror. He had made it look a little more tousled than he meant to, but never mind. Maybe that was a good thing?

“Well, I’m glad someone’s confident,” He said, taking the earpiece when it was offered to him. It was small, high tech; he slipped it into place with practiced ease, and checked once again in the mirror. It was invisible, unless you were really looking for it; no one but himself would know. “If anything happens, though, if you need any help… I mean, I’m sure you won’t, but.” He paused, blinking at her for a moment. “Just in case. I’ve got your back.”

MITTE 

She still knew all his twitches and tells so well, even with the distance that had stretched out between them. Kristoff wasn't the guy who reached out first to shake your hand, or bumped his knee against yours under the table. Being touched always surprised him, even when it was Mitte, who was probably more consistently hands on with him than most people.

(Once, way more hands on. Hands all over; pulling his hair, digging nails into his shoulders, running down the muscles of his chest. Christ, it had felt so good to see him lost to her touch like that. Even better to lose herself in his.) 

"You're always nervous right about now." Mitte pointed out to him, still going through the case for the bugs she would need and hoping her face hadn't turned beet red. If her voice came out a little strangled at least she could chalk that much up to her own nerves. God, what was wrong with her? It was just sex. They'd both had plenty of it. Hell, Mitte was more than familiar with the fine art of hooking up with a friend. 

Kristoff was more than that though. He was her partner, the guy in the chair watching the room and keeping her safe while she flirted for information, the only person she had a codeword with incase one of them was compromised, the only person who knew where to find her if everyone else thought she'd vanished. Kristoff was the one guy she’d always trusted, and it was an immense relief their slip up didn’t seem to have stopped them working together well, at least, but she could feel the tension of words unsaid. The question was whether it’d be better to air things out or lock the door tight on it all and hope for the best. “...And I know. I’ve got your back, too.” 

It was a friendship she couldn't afford to fuck up, which meant despite how good the sex had been, she was just going to have to stop thinking about it. Mitte leaned across enough to catch her face in the mirror and put the earpiece in, then turned properly to face Kristoff again. "They could've partnered me with someone else." She reminded him, "the chief knows you can handle this, Kristoff. You've got more game than you think." Mitte patted his arm and then moved past him to find her shoes, "worked on me, didn't it?" She cackled, even though the quip drove a bus right through her intention to not think about that night. Oh yeah, it worked alright. Thought if she remembered correctly- and how could she not, with how often it had played over in her head- she’d kissed him first. To be fair, she’d always been the first one to take the leap when they were involved in anything risky. 

Once Mitte had her trainers on and a backpack full of bugs slung over her shoulder she felt a lot more ready, bouncing on the balls of her feet and giving Kristoff’s seduction suit one last lookover. Honestly? She liked him a hell of a lot more in his post workout look, with his sweat making his already tight t-shirt cling to his abs while he poured half his water bottle over his head to cool off, but this was a nice look too. “Ready to turn on the charm?”

KRISTOFF

Kristoff almost choked on nothing at the comment, thrown out there like they had been regularly joking about the ending of their last mission since it had happened rather than furtively avoiding any mention of it at all. Once again he blushed, the link spreading right up to his ears this time and Kristoff loosened that button he’d been debating on, if only so he didn’t feel so claustrophobic. 

It was a good thing, right? That she was joking about it? That was what he and mitte did, they joked about things — they were friends. Best friends. Being with Mitte, whether it was hanging out or working or whatever, had always been as easy as breathing. And knowing Kristoff, knowing his track record, he was gonna ruin that eventually. He was very good at putting his foot in his mouth.

He knew he couldn’t go downstairs looking all flustered so he took a deep breath, ran a hand nervously through his hair which thankfully made it look kind of tousled and teased rather than messy, and gave Mitte a crooked half-smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

He headed for the door, sparing her one last glance before he was gone, heading to the elevators and then down to the ground floor, and into the bar.

The hotel was fancy, the type of place an arms dealer’s cheating wife would be spending the night. There was the low hum of chatter, tables of women in dresses more expensive than the suite they were staying in, men in suits so starched it looked like they could barely move. It was sort of depressing, honestly, but not the first glitzy affair he and Mitte had attended in the line of duty. He spotted their target across the room, sitting at the bar— he hadn’t expected her there, but he supposed it was a good spot to meet someone, if you were looking to.

“I’ve got eyes on Eliza,” he said in a low voice, enough for Mitte to hear in her earpiece, but no one else. “Heading over there now. Wish me luck.”

And with that he headed across the floor to the bar.

MITTE

On a scale of devious to diabolical, where would Mitte fall if she was to just… Skip talking about it, and start joking about it? Kristoff would play along. He’d splutter and he’d huff and then one day he’d crack a joke of his own and it’d become another chapter in the book of shit that happens when you’ve had the same best friend since you were ten and had done so much together now it was hard to tell exactly where the boundary was. Sometimes they made out when they got drunk, sometimes they stole food off each others’ plates, they spent Christmas together, they lived and breathed a job that required nothing less than absolute trust. 

So yeah, the boundary was… Well, flexible. They weren’t even drunk that night, but Kristoff had done a much better job of taking the edge off than whatever cheap little bottles of booze that minibar would’ve stocked. Thankgod there was an actual bar at this place. Still, sweeping what had happened under the rug felt a bit selfish, and Mitte was trying to be better about that, so she should at least ask if Kristoff wanted to discuss it. After the mission, obviously. Neither of them needed that kind of distraction right now. Once the Goodfellow’s were handled, there would be time.

They went their separate ways, and Mitte’s first objective was to find a maids cart, and a master key. This much at least was incredibly routine, even for her, and she could pick the lock of a utility closet in her sleep. “Go get ‘em tiger.” She said softly to Kristoff, glancing both ways down the corridor before slipping back out with the necessary key card and heading towards Eliza’s room.

The work she had to do was quiet, quick, and didn’t require more than one person. Still, she missed Kristoff’s presence, the way they’d silently orbited around each other, him effortlessly reaching for all the high up places she found it tricky to get to while she worked on the more fiddly hiding spots. As it was, this time around there was a lot of dragging the desk chair around the room and climbing on things that shouldn’t be climbed on. At least the furnishings were more structurally sound than the last hotel. (They’d have to go at it really hard to cause any damage here. Which they weren’t going to do. At all.)

“I’ll say this, these guys really know how to secure a clock to the wall.” Mitte huffed, mostly to fill the lonely quiet, “how’s things your end- is she swooning yet?” 

KRISTOFF

He did his best not to laugh. He had been there, done that. Trying to slip bugs inside of lampshades and into the soles of high heels and behind mirrors fixed to the wall. He knew it was, at the best of times, a ball ache. But he thought he would maybe rather be up there doing that than down here launching into… whatever this was.

This being walking up to the bar, striding across the room with as much nonchalance and casual grace that Kristoff could muster, which was a surprising amount. He didn’t seem like the type of person who could be graceful, but spy academy beat any clumsiness right out of you. He approached the bar, only one seat left — conveniently, right next to his mark.

“This seat taken?” He asked, drawing her attention from the drink in her hand.

Without any shame at all she looked him up, down, and over once more, and then smiled coyly. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He took a deep breath, looking up at the ornately painted ceiling for a moment. It was the type of thing Mitte would say; if it were Mitte he’d already have some kind of comeback. “Leave, I suppose,” he said after a moment. Eliza looked back at him, gaze curious, assessing. “Very disappointed.”

She smiled, a small, tucked-away sort of smile. Coy, honestly vaguely threatening. “Good thing it isn’t, then.” She nodded for him to sit; Kristoff took his cue. When the barman came over he ordered a martini, slipping the cash out of the inner pocket over his jacket over the bar. Eliza followed the movement of his hand with her eyes, and Kristoff pretended not to notice, mostly because he had no idea what to do about it just yet.

“And what brings a good looking guy on his own to this kind of bar on a Friday night?” She asked, leaning her head on her hand, elbow propped on the bar.

“Business,” Kristoff replied, smiling simply, hoping he looked as earnest as he could be. Not exactly a lie. He just couldn’t tell her what business.

She hummed, eyebrows arching. “So not pleasure, then?”

He really had not expected things to go this way this fast. He felt like he fumbled, reaching for his drink when the bartender slid the glass towards him. “Well, I…” 

MITTE

It was quite nice to feel like a real spy instead of a pretty doll put on display to distract the bad guy, honestly. Not that it felt that way every time, but the circuits her mind had to run to make sure she was sitting up straight and smiling and pushing her tits up just enough, and the way those guys could leer– god, the things they could say that she just had to giggle at, the way their fingers could dig in when they grabbed at her– well, she was always grateful for whatever quips Kristoff could make down the line to help stop her snapping them like a twig.

Thinking about all that did get her blood going enough that Mitte was finally able to wrench the clock free of its setting to slip a bug in the back before replacing it, and she snickered quietly at Eliza’s forward approach. It did sound like the way Mitte might challenge a man, though coming from Miss Goodfellow it just sounded like a woman not interested in wasting her time. That worked in their favor in the long run; she knew what she wanted and she’d answer slightly strange questions without too much forethought to get it. Kristoff was probably going to need some help, though. Upfront women tended to intimidate him- she would know.

Mitte resisted the urge to rib him about the drink choice- she could call him James Bond later, when he could afford to be distracted- and just listened, whistling through her teeth at Eliza’s continued no nonsense approach. “Stay cool, Casanova.” She hummed, “...Smile at her like you smile at me when you’ve caught me in a stupid lie, and tell her you’re a busy guy and pleasure wasn’t part of the plan, but since you’ve found her you might just have to make time for it.” At least, that was what Mitte would like to hear, that she was worth ruining plans for, so Eliza would probably be all over an ego boost like that.

She wasn’t going to think about whether or not it was a bad idea to imply to Kristoff that she thought the smug little smirk he sometimes threw her way when he won was sexy as all hell. It would be fine, he wasn’t the type to use his powers for evil. (He didn’t even know he had powers. Maybe after Eliza he’d realize.) “Tilt your head a bit… Check her out. And then ask her why she’s all alone, too. But pitch your voice kinda low, like when you’re doing your quiet and angry cop routine.” Secretly, she called it the Sexy and Pissed off cop routine, but absolutely no need to tell him that.

Hey Mitte, what’d you do with your Friday night? Ah, I talked my best friend through seducing an arms dealer's wife. God, she loved her job. She slipped a bug into the tissue box in the bathroom, “I shouldn’t be much longer.” 

KRISTOFF

There was no outward sign of him listening to Mitte’s chatter in his ear, he was too well trained for that, but he took in everything she said without questioning it for a second. Mitte wouldn’t get him into trouble, nor would she jeopardise the mission, and honestly? She was way better at this than he was, so if she had advice, he was going to take it. It was just a case of assembling all the information he’d been given and using it correctly, and he was good at that.

Quiet and angry cop routine– he was good at that, too. Or at least, it had never failed him yet. It also had never been used for seduction before but hey, there was a first time for everything. He gave a soft laugh, like it was amusing, just how forward she was, and directed that smile at his drink. The dumb part was, he played different characters all the time. Quiet angry cop, new guy who just started at the firm, bartender with a shoulder to cry on; being a spy was also a part-time acting job, and he had never worried about it before now. It was just like those other jobs – he just had to keep telling himself that. 

He looked up at Eliza, glad to find her still looking at him, waiting for an answer. That smile was still in place, a little crooked, amused, almost disbelieving, but hopefully charming. “I’m a very busy guy,” He said, parroting Mitte’s words back at Eliza. “Pleasure wasn’t exactly the plan, but..” He pursed his lips and tilted his head, just as directed. He thought he should maybe feel embarrassed, having Mitte in his ear, no doubt making fun of him up there whilst she bugged the room, but honestly? It was good to know he had back up. He made a deliberate show of looking her over, which served not only to make her smile, small and pleased with herself, but to give him more information, too. If she did a runner, he had a pretty good description of her. “I might just have to make time for it.”

He turned to his drink again – for the record, he hated martinis, but he was hoping the vodka might make him feel a little less self conscious. “But what about you?” He asked, looking back up at her again, turning a little to show she had his full attention. “What’s a woman like you doing here all alone?”

“A woman like me?” She asked, one eyebrow arching. Not offended, no – fishing for something, Kristoff assumed.

“C’mon,” He said, earning another smile from her, like they were old friends, having a laugh. “You don’t need me to tell you what you are.”

“It would still be nice to hear it,” She countered, sipping from the glass in her hand. 

“Alright,” He acquiesced, “What brings a good looking woman like you on her own to this kind of bar on a Friday night?”

She laughed, amused, so he did as well. She turned a little towards him in her seat, her own head tilting as she looked at him. She sighed deeply, dramatically, and said, “Looking for company, I suppose. A knight in shining armour, maybe.”

MITTE Quite suddenly, while listening to her sweet talk and imagining her batting her lashes at Kristoff, Mitte decided she hated Eliza Goodfellow. They dealt with a lot of terrible people every day, real nasty criminals who had done unimaginable shit– but Eliza Goodfellow was just a woman who didn’t care how her husband made his money as long as he had a lot of it, and didn’t care where he went as long as it gave her time to flirt with hot strangers at bars!

She shouldn’t be here, flirting with Kristoff. If she just wasn’t here, then it could be– well… It wouldn’t be anyone. If Eliza wasn’t here, then they wouldn’t be here either. Beyond that, getting too emotional over a target was a terrible idea, even if that emotion was hatred, so Mitte had to swallow it all down, but she could not suppress her displeased huff in response to Eliza’s fawning. She was about as subtle as a brick. “Tell her…” Actually, this wasn’t fun at all. But it was her job, so she could do it. “Tell her you don’t own a sword but you do know how to ride a horse.” Mitte frowned, listening to the two of them carry on whilst she did one final sweep of the room to make sure she hadn’t missed any good hiding spots. “And ask why her husband hasn’t swept her up to ride off with her into the sunset, if you think working him into the conversation so early would be okay.” Kristoff seemed to find his groove, which was good for the mission and Mitte refused to think about it beyond that, ignoring her own grimace as she passed the wardrobe mirror on her way back out.

Initially, she’d planned on just heading straight down to the bar to drag Kristoff out of whatever mess his flirting got him into, but something drove her back to their hotel room- two beds this time, because Mitte had personally promised violence if they pulled the same shit again- to dig through her suitcase, and pull out a nicer top. The one with the ditzy kind of floral print she liked, and a sweetheart neckline that always made Kristoff’s eyes drop for just a second. It was a nice bar, so looking like she’d thrown on whatever old thing was going to draw attention that she didn’t want to have. She was just trying to blend in a bit. “I’m on my way down.” Mitte told Kristoff as she stepped into the lift, “you get what we need yet?” 

KRISTOFF

“Well, I don’t have a sword, but I do know how to ride a horse. That good enough?”

It earned a laugh from Eliza, all breathy and coy and maybe she was acting, too. Or maybe she wasn’t — maybe Mitte’s advice was just that good. He couldn’t be sure, but he tried not to act surprised when Eliza leaned a little bit closer, reaching again for her drink. “Close enough.”

He chuckled, shuffling just a little closer himself, almost imperceptibly, but enough for the conversation to feel a little more intimate. Hopefully, anyways. He kept his voice low and soft, hoping he wasn’t about to ruin the entire thing when he said, “So, what? There’s no dashing husband coming to sweep you off your feet and carry you into the sunset?”

“Who said anything about a husband?” Eliza asked, her voice low and sultry, a small smirk on her lips.

Kristoff nodded to the hand she was leaning her head on. “Your ring.”

“Ah,” Eliza murmured. She shifted to set her hand on the bar, looking at the ring. It was a pretty sizeable rock — the guy was definitely rich. “Well, my husband would rather do business deals in Shanghai than take a vacation with his wife.” She tapped her fingers against the bar, looking at the ring for a long moment. Kristoff waited, not wanting to spook her. When she looked up again, she asked, “Does it bother you?”

He hoped Mitte was taking notes. Shanghai— they could look into his dealings, see who he’d done business with there, who might be looking to collaborate. They could be on a flight in a matter of hours. 

Eliza was still waiting for an answer. “No,” Kristoff said, shaking his head. 

Eliza smiled, her other hand shifting, settling on his thigh. “Good.” 

MITTE 

She wondered if Kristoff hated it too, hearing her flirt and giggle with targets. Maybe it was just that, no one really liked hearing lies. Yeah. But seriously, she knew it was useful for their mission and all, but was a stupid rich husband who hardly bothered you not enough? Call Mitte crazy, but it sounded like a decent set up, what did she have to go crawling all over guys like Kristoff for? 

And Mitte meant crawling in the most literal sense, when she walked into the bar and saw them sitting so close together, her hand on his thigh like they'd been flirting all night and not for five minutes. Still, they got Shanghai out of her, and that meant Eliza Goodfellow had fulfilled her purpose. 

She swiped a half finished cosmopolitan- shame she didn't have the patience to order her own and enjoy a few sips- and flagged down a passing waitress, who already had a few half empty glasses on her tray. Mitte pulled a couple of fifties from her purse- would she ever be so used to having money she stopped spending it stupidly?- and set one of them down on the tray, along with the glass. "See that blonde guy over there?" She asked quietly, head tipping towards Kristoff and the vile woman still leaning closer. (He wouldn't know how to stop her, how to end their interaction without a fuss. She had to do it.) "That's my boyfriend. If you happen to trip on your way past and spill these over the woman trying to sit in his lap, I'll give you the other fifty on my way out." 

Now see, Mitte knew hospitality staff. Even in a place like this they didn't make enough for how mad the job drove them. She'd happily pay £100 quid to watch Eliza suffer, and the waitress only had to make a simple mistake. 

So Mitte sat back to watch the scene play out, Eliza and Kristoff so close to each other, and then; Eliza rearing back in horror, screeching like a banshee about whatever stupid designer made her stupid dress. She sidled over, surreptitiously slipping the waitress that second fifty, and grabbing Kristoff's hand to pull him away before he could start fussing over her with napkins. Miss Goodfellow, so consumed with misplaced rage, barely noticed him leaving.

Mitte didn't speak until they were in the elevator again, alone, her tone the epitome of innocence. "I think that went well. Shame about Eliza's dress." 

KRISTOFF

Oh yeah, he had no idea how to extricate himself out of this one. He could do the classic, excuse himself and climb through the air vent in the bathroom, or maybe say he had to take a call and pull the fire alarm on his way out. He had options, he just had very little time to think about them, because Eliza’s hand was at his knee and then his thigh and inching ever higher—

And then it was gone, and he was leaning back, Eliza screaming about useless staff and dry cleaning bills. Kristoff looked down and realised he had faired a bit better, but not by much. His shirt was wet, sticking to his abdomen as Mitte grabbed his hand.

At first Kristoff looked up, wondering if he’d been made — but then he saw Mitte, or rather the back of her head as she made a beeline for the elevator — and felt an overwhelming wave of relief. He was fine and she was fine and they had their intel, and they were going. No shots fired, no covers blown.

He leaned back when the elevator door closed, back to the wall. “Never mind, I guess. Not like she can’t afford another one.” He paused, looking at Mitte for a moment. “You couldn’t think of another way to get me out of there?”

MITTE

She had not thought about Kristoff being in the splash zone. Now, Mitte had seen him in just about every state of undress, distress, and duress a person could be in, so this should not be a problem. And it wasn’t. Except she kept sneaking glances at his abs, and remembering how the muscles had twitched under her hands. Mitte swallowed thickly and turned to look in the mirror instead, fussing with her hair for no reason apart from needing something else to focus on. 

The truth was, yeah, there were plenty of ways to get Kristoff out of the bar, most of them cleaner and cheaper, things they’d done dozens of times before when she’d played the honeypot part. She shrugged, feigning indifference. “It was the first idea that came to me.” At least, she wasn’t lying, but Mitte knew that wasn’t really why she’d gone that route. Subtlety had never really been her style, anyway, so as far as she was concerned this was all very typical behavior, regardless of motive.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, and Mitte made for their room without waiting or looking back. “So, Shanghai.” She said once they were back in their own space, flopping down onto one of the beds and staring at the ceiling. “Makes sense. A little predictable, but that works for us, I guess, means we stand a chance of finding…” 

Mitte made the mistake of glancing over at Kristoff, who had shucked the suit jacket and was unbuttoning the wet shirt, her sentence trailing off. “Um-” She blinked, and quickly wrenched her gaze back to the ceiling, clearing her throat. “Well, we stand a chance of him working with one of our old informants, right? Not super likely, but I could send out a few messages, see if anyone is down to talk to us.”

KRISTOFF

She was lying, he knew it. Her nonchalance was too forced, not quite right, and it caused a small crease to form between his brows as he frowned. They had much more efficient, much quieter ways of getting each other out of tricky spots like that. They were trained to do it — extraction and destruction were key parts of spy training. Getting yourself out of a situation with as minimal fuss as possible was just what they did, and yet Mitte had chosen to bribe a waitress. Presumably, anyways. Kristoff couldn’t see any waitress working in a place as fancy as that just tripping over nothing.

The doors opened and he stepped out after her, still frowning softly as he watched her walk back to the room. He looked both ways before he slipped inside, making sure no one was watching, and he locked the door once he was in.

He flung his jacket on the bed, untucking his shirt and working on the buttons. He’d have to get changed if they were going to get on a flight. Couldn’t go to the airport looking like he’d spent all of last night and today in a bar (and smelling like it, too). 

He let his shirt flop on a heap on the floor and reached for his duffel, looking for something to wear. “Why’d you do it?” He asked, ignoring her completely. He looked up at her, pausing his search for a clean shirt. “You don’t do the first thing that comes to you — you want to, but you’re trained better.” He knew her, too well. Mitte was impulsive but not dumb. “So why the tray of champagne?”

MITTE 

Yeah, alright. Kristoff's insight shouldn't have surprised her. The fact that he hadn't cottoned on to her reasoning was likely because he couldn't see his nose for his face. The day Kristoff Bjorgman realized he was as hot as he was smart would be a dangerous day for women everywhere. 

Even now he somehow managed to be oblivious, shirtless and huffing at her like he wasn't insanely distracting. It wasn't like she had any right to feel this way. Kristoff was just doing his job, and even if he hadn't been he was allowed to flirt with whoever he wanted. 

Just… Not while Mitte was listening. "Jeez, Kristoff. Allow a lady to have a little fun." She stood back up to get out her laptop, to see about starting to put out feelers in Shanghai, and to have something to hide her face behind. "We both know it would've taken you forever to get yourself out of there, and it's not like she didn't deserve a little karma." 

KRISTOFF

He snagged a t-shirt, plain black and nondescript, a spy’s best friend; they were going to need to blend in. He paused with it in his hand, watching as she went to the laptop. Evasive. And like he said, he knew Mitte to be impulsive, but he didn’t know her to be sloppy. And maybe she was right, it would have taken a while for him to get himself out of there, but he could’ve done it. Or Mitte could’ve done it, just in a subtler way. He frowned softly, wishing she would just talk to him, and then remembering that talking about important things wasn’t really something they did nowadays. If they talked about whatever this was then they might have to talk about their last mission and Kristoff didn’t even know where to begin with that–

He pulled the shirt over his head, crouching down again to begin shoving things into his duffel. Might as well get ready to leave – they would be gone sooner rather than later. He paused, looking up at Mitte, still focused on her laptop. It wasn’t– the two things couldn’t be related. Could they? If Mitte was hiding something then that was strange, but it wasn’t strange if she was hiding something because it was something they weren’t talking about…

Kristoff, having confused himself, shook his head. “I guess.” He said eventually, watching Mitte for a moment. “Though, y’know, I don’t appreciate you doubting my skills. I was starting to get the hang of it.” 

He was only joking – he was waiting for her to look up, grinning just a little.

MITTE 

To say her face felt hot wouldn't be accurate, rather, there was some fiery thing pulsing behind her eyes that she didn't really understand. Mitte liked being friends with Kristoff. It was easy, it almost always had been, so whatever silly ideas her brain was conjuring up now it could just bloody well stop. The last thing they needed was complications. 

Things were fine. Nothing needed to change, she just had to get a grip. (But things were already changing, weren't they? If she noticed him tugging on a t-shirt out of the corner of her eye and wanted to tell him to take it off again.) It wasn't like it mattered that she was feeling so nuts anyway, maybe Kristoff could fool the rest of the world but he couldn't fool her, and if he's ever felt this way watching her flirt with targets she would know about it. 

So, he dropped it, but then he picked up something just as bad. Mitte huffed, still hiding behind her screen. Work. She was meant to be working. Shanghai contacts. "...You did great, Kristoff." She told him, honest, if a touch bitter about admitting it. "Pat yourself on the back. Top notch flirting, she was eating out of your hand." Mitte reached for her hoodie and zipped it all the way up, feeling stupid she'd even bothered to change her top. What did she want from Kristoff, anyway? "Well we got her room bugged, so if he moves on from Shanghai we'll probably hear about it. It'll probably take our contacts a while to get back to us. We should just pack up and get going." 

KRISTOFF

She was teasing him, which was a good sign, but she wasn’t looking at him, which made him frown again. He hated feeling like things were off, like there was something standing in the middle of them. He hated to think that he had ruined his and Mitte’s friendship, that he continued to ruin it by not being able to talk about it, and risked ruining it further by keep thinking about it. It being the urge to kiss her, to throw that laptop out the window and ask if she remembered what they did last time they were in a hotel room together—

He pursed his lips, nodded. Right. They had a job to do. He had a job to do, he was a professional. He took a breath and then cast his gaze around the room, reaching for the last few bits and pieces that he needed. He swapped his dress shoes out for his boots and grabbed his jacket, ready to go. He didn’t exactly want to — he wanted to know why Mitte was so sullen. Was she regretting this? Working with him again? If she was, he wished she’d just tell him. If she left after this and never spoke to him again… he didn’t know what he’d do.

“I’ll call us a cab,” he said, lingering by the door. “You can check us out — I’ll meet you outside.”

MITTE 

What would he say? If Mitte came out with the ugly truth of it, her unreasonable possessiveness, would Kristoff even believe her? Would he care? Would he think she was being ridiculous? Just another of Mitte’s silly mood swings, another this is how it is and you just have to go with it. Kristoff had taken a lot of her absurdities in stride over the course of their friendship, every stupid whim and bit of self sabotage. Something would have to break the damn eventually, and Mitte would hate for it to be something she couldn’t even pin down a reasonable explanation for. 

So she kept her mouth shut, packed up her stuff, and checked them out of the hotel. 

They’d been on countless plane journeys, and depending on their individual moods their interactions ranged from driving each other up the wall, keeping each other entertained, and companionable silence. This… Was none of that. This was stony and awkward and Mitte nearly jumped out of her damn skin every time their elbows brushed on the shared armrest. 

She called their boss when they landed to get hotel details and give him a rundown of their plan, chattering away as Kristoff navigated the streets- still so busy, even at this time of night- to get them safely to where they were staying. Even annoyed at her as he must be- and she could practically feel it radiating off him- he directed her without comment, making sure she didn’t run into anyone or turn down the wrong street.

Being the booming center of business it was, their room here was even more upscale than the last place, all sleek and shiny, and Mitte wondered how many of the little liquor bottles she could snatch from the fridge before Kristoff said anything. “Okay… It’s pretty late, so, boss said we can just hole up in our room tonight doing research and hit the ground running with our search properly tomorrow.” 

KRISTOFF

Kristoff wasn’t quiet because he was annoyed or mad or anything like that — Kristoff was quiet because he was thinking. 

Alright so maybe he was overthinking, or maybe he was reading too hard between the lines but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Mitte was hiding something from him. And they never hid anything from each other, at least not until all this. Besides, he didn’t feel like he was really hiding anything. The way he had to look away sometimes when she was all dressed up ready for the mission, the way he had blushed when her hand had brushed his neck. He was a spy, he was good with secrets, but not when it came to Mitte.

She had seemed… normal, before they’d gone their separate ways. They’d had the same kind of banter they always did and then out of nowhere she was sullen and closed off and Kristoff didn’t know what had happened. Something, he supposed, between Mitte going to bug the room and coming down to join him in the bar. He could’ve gotten more intel probably, if he’d been left to it for a minute longer. Shanghai was a big place, maybe he could’ve narrowed it down, or gotten an idea of where he might be headed to next, but Mitte had swooped in pretty quickly and had shut everything down before—

Oh.

The lightbulb flicked on above Kristoff’s head somewhere over Russia. He glanced at Mitte out of the corner of his eye and said nothing, staring resolutely at the airplane seat in front of himself.

He was being stupid. He’d added two and two and gotten five. There was no way that Mitte— that she— he couldn’t even really articulate it. He pushed it to one side; he got them to their hotel and checked them into their room and was so decided that he wasn’t going to say anything at all until he was stood there, watching Mitte eye the mini bar.

He wanted to say okay, sounds good, but instead he said, “Were you— were you mad at her? Eliza?”

MITTE

She hated this. She was a talker! Especially to Kristoff, who she’d seen curled into himself in a corner in highschool and decided, yeah, I can probably fuck with that guy. Then he looked up, and he smiled at her, and for whatever reason Mitte decided to just… Talk to him. And he listened, and then suddenly they were friends. 

Before now she’d always known what to say to him. But now there was a stupid little voice in Mitte’s head, telling her to ruin some lady’s dress just because she put her hand on his leg, or to run her hand over his abs, or kiss him just to wipe the frown off his face. God, this was why friends didn’t sleep together, it didn’t just blur the line, it put all sorts of experiences in your head that you shouldn’t have. How was she supposed to be indifferent to someone else leaning in to kiss Kristoff, when she knew how good kissing him felt? 

Mad. Mitte sat with the word for a moment, eyes narrowed a bit at Kristoff, thinking. Was she mad? No, no, mad wasn’t the right word. Eliza was just doing what she probably did every night, cheating on her husband. Mitte didn’t care about any of those other guys. It bothered her because Kristoff was part of the equation.

…Ah. Oh god. Jealous? No. Maybe. That was ridiculous, she had no right. Kristoff was just doing his job. This worked. This was good, they worked better together than with other partners.  "No." Mitte said after a few beats of quiet, going about getting her laptop and shoving her bag under one of the beds, "no, I wasn't mad at her. You wanna listen to her room recording a while and see if she's said anything useful? I'll see if anyone got back in touch with us about her husband."

KRISTOFF

No, he didn’t want to listen to the room recording. He doubted Eliza was going to say anything too useful except for a lot of swearing and angry ranting about useless waitstaff, so he figured it could wait. They had time, and besides, it wasn’t like he’d be able to focus. Mitte wasn’t mad, fine. Which meant that there was really only one other thing it could be, as far fetched and ludicrous as the idea was.

“You were jealous of her.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that he almost startled himself. Listen, he could only work with the intel he had, and what he had was Mitte instructing him on how to flirt and then coming downstairs and seeing her good advice out to work and sending a waitress to ruin the mark’s dress. She wasn’t mad, and Kristoff honestly thought he might be kind of upset if she really doubted his ability to get himself out of a tricky situation that much—

“Right?” He asked, immediately doubting himself. But then, no— he couldn’t leave any room for doubt, or Mitte wouldn’t admit to anything. Stronger, he said, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

MITTE

Unfortunately, for as hapless as he could come across, Kristoff was really the brains behind the partnership. Mitte wasn't surprised when he figured it out so fast, and she tried not to react, but she could feel her face heating up. 

She couldn't say nothing. That was as good as admitting it anyway, and Kristoff sounded too adamant to be distracted. Mitte closed her eyes for a moment and heaved a soft sigh before looking at him over the top of the laptop, "...You don't have to tell me I'm being ridiculous. I already know." She glanced again at the minibar, and wondered what he was thinking. 

Alright, so the reason they'd never talked about what happened at the last hotel was because Mitte had never brought it up, and she knew that, but Kristoff… He'd never shown that kind of interest in her. Before or since. And even if he had, they both knew what a terrible idea it was. Messy and dangerous and easy to take advantage of. "You were doing your job. I just… didn't like hearing it. Or seeing it. I should've gotten you out of there quieter, I wasn't thinking. It won't happen again." It was stupid and dangerous and he'd have every right to decide to work with someone who wasn't going to cause that kind of fuss. Still, selfishly, Mitte wished he wouldn't. 

KRISTOFF

He looked at her for a long moment, watching Mitte as she looked everywhere but him. His gaze didn’t shift, and though he was listening to her it took him a second to actually register what it was she was saying. She hadn’t come out and said yes, but she wasn’t saying no — Mitte was stubborn enough that Kristoff knew she would never come out and say it outright so this was probably as good as it was going to get.

It won’t happen again. Why did she think he would be upset about it? She had to know how he felt about her. It wasn’t like he could hide it, though he tried his best to. His opinion most of the time was that Mitte was the smarter of the two of them but right now? 

He should just nod and say okay and let it go. They had a mission to complete, intel to gather. They knew their mark was in Shanghai but Shanghai was a big place, and they needed to try and narrow that down. 

He didn’t do that, though. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and took Mitte’s face in his hands, kissing her like it might be the last chance he got. More like making up for lost time, he supposed. How much could they have been doing this since the last mission they’d gone on?

He pulled away after a moment, one hand falling to her waist. He didn’t go too far, keeping her close as he looked down at her. “You’re an idiot.”

MITTE

She wanted to kick herself. Or jump out the window. Or run across the room and put her hand over Kristoff’s mouth before he could say anything that made this worse, tell him to just forget she’d even talked. How long would they be able to keep it up this time? If Mitte shut this down before it started and they returned to their own homes and their own lives with her uncertainty creating a rift all over again, would they find their way back to each-other a second time? The truth was, Mitte was pretty uninterested in life without Kristoff, and she’d take whatever he wanted to offer her. It might not be easy, but she’d be able to keep the jealousy under wraps, even if the feeling of it had settled in her gut like a lead weight.. She’d do practically anything to keep him. 

But then he was grabbing her and kissing her and kissing him back was easy. Like breathing. Mitte made a small noise of surprise, and all the tension she’d been carrying since before they even left for Shanghai melted off her shoulders. Her hands crept up Kristoff’s abs until her palms could settle on his chest, and she resisted the urge to twist the material of his shirt in her fists until it could be ripped off. 

For a moment after he pulled away, Mitte stared up at him with no clue what they were supposed to do next. They’d crossed this line before and they knew how it ended. But then her brain caught up to what he’d said, and she huffed. “I’m the idiot? Tch, it took you all the way to Shanghai to figure out what the issue was!” Nevermind that it had taken her just as long to name it. “And, may I point out, a smart man wouldn’t have called me an idiot right after kissing me, if he was hoping he’d get to do it again.” Though, she barely made a move to get out of Kristoff’s grip, only gently pushing her hands against his chest. 

KRISTOFF

“It was a calculated risk,” he argued with a grin, leaning down to kiss her again, a little softer this time but just as heated, the same desperation behind it. He knew she would let him— because she had been jealous. Because she didn’t want anyone else flirting with him, because she wanted him. The thought alone was enough to make him giddy. “You’re the idiot because I’ve liked you since— I don’t even know since when. And I suck at hiding it.” 

He did. He was obvious, at least he thought he was. Blushing when she touched him and finding excuses to be with her and a million other little things that gave away just how obsessed with her he was. He dropped his other hand to her waist, both hands sliding round to the small of her back so he could pull her closer again, even with her hands on his chest, pushing back a little. “We could listen to the room recording,” he said, looking down at her. “Or we could make up for lost time?”

MITTE

He kissed her again and Mitte didn’t move or protest, all but melting against him. She’d never had a lot of friends. Mitte’s temperament wasn’t exactly easy to handle, and she was picky to boot. Kristoff was the only person in her life who she had let stick around for so long. So when Kristoff said they were best friends, well, she took that and ran with it. She didn’t care if other people said they were too close, or they did things best friends didn’t do- Kristoff was the one she trusted, and he’d never kicked up a fuss that they were doing this or that wrong. But apparently he’d liked her for who knew how long, so of course he wouldn’t have an issue with that stuff! Stuff Mitte had never had an issue with either, admittedly. All the touching and the secrets between just them and how boring it was to do anything at all if they weren’t doing it together. 

Her blood hummed with satisfaction at having him so close, and really, her possessiveness wasn’t new. Whenever Kristoff worked well with another agent she managed to find at least some small and silly thing wrong with them, so that she could point it out to him, and maybe he wouldn’t work with them again. This of course was all under the guise of looking out for him, but maybe… Yeah, it was possible she’d been jealous this whole time. 

“Okay.” Mitte said softly, conceding to perhaps the only person she was happy to lose an argument against, her arms sliding further and up around his shoulders, bringing him closer. “Your poker face is better than you think. But…I’m the idiot.” And then they were kissing again, Mitte popping up on her tiptoes to be closer, to press their bodies together better, as her hands carded through Kristoff’s hair. 

KRISTOFF

He didn’t think it was just her, for the record. He was pretty stupid too. It had taken him a very long flight to figure out what was going on and even then he hadn’t been too sure of himself. But he was too busy kissing her to really think about telling her that — in fact, as her fingers ran through his hair he stopped thinking about anything, everything falling away except for Mitte’s hands and the heat of her body, pressing up against his own.

He reached down, hands slipping over the swell of her ass to grip the backs of her thighs, pulling her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He thought that was going to be easier than trying to stumble backwards towards the bed. He twisted, stepped towards it until he could lay her down onto it, kissing over her jaw and her neck as he shifted to hover over her. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, pausing once again to look at her. Wanting to be sure, before they took things too far, and did something else they couldn’t talk about in the morning.

MITTE

He liked her. He liked her, and he was kissing her, and Mitte’s head was spinning with ‘what if this’ ‘what if that’ scenarios. Things she didn’t want to think about right now– things that could wait. The present felt far more urgent than any of that, especially as Kristoff was scooping her up, and she was so familiar with the calluses of his palms she could practically feel them through her jeans. 

The pent up frustration that had driven their last encounter- at least, it had driven Mitte and she’d thought they were on the same page at the time, but now she was curious to know from Kristoff’s perspective- was missing, replaced with a desperation that felt more real. She’d barely registered they were going anywhere until the plush mattress was against her back, all her limbs tangled around Kristoff’s body, head tipping to the side to offer him more of her neck.

Is this okay. Mitte turned her head back to look at him, already a bit out of breath. She could say no. It would be a lie, but she could say it and Kristoff would stop and they could get back to work and this might never happen again. Maybe that was what should’ve happened last time. Once was an accident. Twice was a decision. “Actually, no.” Mitte’s brows furrowed, but the rest of her face couldn’t stay so composed, a smile already stealing her mouth as she gripped at the material of his shirt where it bunched a little around his shoulders, “this thing is really throwing me off. It’s gotta go.” 

KRISTOFF

For a second his brow creased, a small frown appearing. Of course if she meant it, if she didn’t want to do this that was fine, he would understand. They had to work together, and if this was going to complicate things, or it was going to ruin their friendship… he didn't want to make things difficult. Even though it felt easy — as easy as breathing, with Mitte.

But then she was tugging at his shirt and Kristoff rolled his eyes, breaking into a grin. He leaned down to press another kiss to her lips, feeling already like he’d gone too long without it before he sat back until he was kneeling, pulling his shirt up and over his head and away to one side. “This better?” He asked, eyebrows arched. He didn’t move back to lean over her, looking down at her instead, committing the sight of her beneath him to memory just in case.

MITTE

She was cackling at Kristoff’s response until he silenced her with his mouth, and her hands came up to cup his face for just a brief moment- a thankyou, for his sweetness, or for taking her seriously- before he was pulling away to take off the t-shirt. God, the things she’d thought about doing to those abs. Seriously, how did she miss it? How many people get distracted fantasising about their best friends’ abs? “Much better.” Mitte’s smile was satisfied as she reached out, though her arms weren’t quite long enough to touch him where he’d settled, so she surged up to kiss him again, her hands skating down his chest and over his abs. 

“I didn’t tell the waitress to spill the drinks on you, too.” She thought Kristoff might like her candidness, so she made the confession between little kisses peppered along his jaw, her arms circling his waist to map the muscles of his back. “I only told her to get Eliza. I think you looked better when the suit was wet, though.” Maybe that was just Mitte; she liked her men a bit dishevelled. 

KRISTOFF

He was glad when she rose up to meet him, kissing her hard enough to take his breath away when she pulled back. His stomach twitched under her touch, muscles tensing for a second before he relaxed, pushing her hair over her shoulder. 

“Yeah, I figured,” he murmured, bringing her close for another kiss, one hand on her neck, the other at the hem of her shirt, fiddling with the fabric between his fingers. He had figured both that she hadn’t meant for it to happen and that she had preferred it — she hadn’t been able to look at him, after all. He kissed her again, slipping his hand fully under her shirt, skirting over the soft skin of her stomach to the small of her back.

MITTE 

Kristoff was so reactive. It was unsurprising, because he always was, and yeah, she'd missed it. How? She spotted liars for a living! 

It was at this point Mitte remembered the bra she was wearing. Nothing wrong with it, yknow, definitely clean. But she'd been in work mode, so it was also definitely function over style, plain white, boring. Obviously the same had been true last time, and Kristoff would not care less. Still, it was a shame she wasn't wearing something sexier. Maybe next time. 

(Next time?) 

Mitte nipped at his bottom lip, "got me all figured out now, huh?" She hummed against Kristoff’s mouth, pushing gently on his shoulders so she could shift to straddle his lap. She leaned back enough to tug off her top and toss it away, then pressed into him again to kiss down his neck. 

KRISTOFF

He wished that was the truth. Mitte was the type that seemed all mysterious and aloof but she wasn’t, not really, not in the way everyone assumed she was. No, Mitte was a mystery in other ways. The intricacies of her heart were still something Kristoff couldn’t quite figure out, only chipping away at the first little bit of them today, and he’d needed a long haul flight and a taxi ride through Shanghai to get there. He didn’t have Mitte figured out at all.

“Trying to,” He replied, muffled against the newly exposed skin of her collarbone. He sucked a mark into the skin there, not one that would last for too long, fading by morning, probably, but long enough for him to feel proud of his work. He pressed a kiss over it, tilting his head up to catch her lips again, hands skirting over her ribs to grip onto her hips.

MITTE 

A soft moan escaped when he sucked at her skin, and for a moment Mitte thought of their training together, the smug look that would flash across Kristoff's face whenever he managed to leave a mark. She muffled a small laugh in his neck, then he was kissing her again and it stopped being funny, her hips rocking into his as he grabbed her. 

"I gave you the clues already.." Mitte reminded him, her fingers trailing lightly down his stomach  they hit the waistband of his jeans, "or did you think I'd somehow done research into how she liked to be flirted with?" 

KRISTOFF

Okay, Kristoff hadn’t actually thought of it that way.

At the time he was just working under the assumption that Mitte was being a good friend, and giving him the tools he needed to get the job done. Plus, he’d been so nervous he wouldn’t have even realised if she’d spelled it out for him. He wished he could say it was because he was focused on the job, but… no. Definitely nerves.

Now he tried to think about what she’d told him, and he tilted his head, eyes roaming over her slowly. When he spoke he did his best not to sound too strangled (difficult, with her hand in the waistband of his jeans), keeping his voice low and firm, that Sexy Pissed Off Cop voice — and yeah, he knew she called it that. Angela in Tech had told him once. “And here I thought you were just helping out a friend.”

MITTE

This wasn’t like last time. For Mitte, at least, it had been like scratching an itch. A way to deal with all her energy while they were stuck in that hotel room. What had it been for Kristoff? Had he been into her already back then, or did it start that night? She supposed it didn’t really matter, since they seemed to be on the same wavelength now. 

A little thrill chased down her spine when Kristoff dropped his voice, and Mitte found herself sitting up a bit straighter. Nothing called her to attention faster than that tone. Obviously most of the time when he used it there was an interrogation or the like going on, but now it was directed at her… Well, hopefully Kristoff would only use the power for good. “I was helping.” she promised, her face projecting a picture of perfect innocence, like she wasn’t toying with the button of his jeans. 

“I didn’t realise I’d hate hearing it until you’d already started flirting.” Mitte pouted and shook her head, “I don’t know how you do it, listen to me sweet talk targets all the time. You’ve never bribed a waitress to spill drinks on me.” 

KRISTOFF

Yeah alright so he couldn’t keep it up for long, the way she sat to attention making him smile against her skin, nose skimming her collarbone as his head dipped lower, kisses pressed over the curve of her breast. He huffed softly, trying to look as unamused as he could when he was met with her best innocent act, though that didn’t last long either. Couldn’t, not with her hands skirting around the waistband of his jeans.

He didn’t really know what to say to that, though. He would be a liar if he said it didn’t affect him. The slight pang of jealousy that he had for so long mistook for protectiveness, curdling in his stomach whilst some creep ran a hand over Mitte’s thigh or leaned in a little too close. He shifted to run his hands over her hips, dipping his head again. “You get used to it.” He said finally, his right hand lingering at her waist whilst the left ran up the length of her body, fingers skirting up and over her ribs to cup her breast, thumb rubbing over her nipple through the thin fabric. “Probably ruined that now, though. Maybe next time I’ll bribe the maitre d’ to pull the fire alarm.”

MITTE 

She was quite quickly becoming frustrated with how many clothes they both had on. Maybe it was her fault– she was always the leader when they did something reckless, Kristoff was probably letting her set the pace. Especially in this arena where he’d been waiting, she didn’t know how long, for her feelings to catch up with his. Had their feelings caught up? Mitte- she hadn’t really had time to think about hers too much, except to realise that they existed. Though he’d probably been denying them as much as he could, Kristoff must have a better idea of just how deep his feelings ran. All Mitte could say for sure right now was that she wanted more.

As much as she loathed the idea of getting used to seeing him in these situations- and she did very much, giving a displeased huff as he voiced it-  she knew Kristoff was right. They were going to have to get used to a lot. Seeing him get hurt– god, it had always been awful, but now? Mitte didn’t even want to think about it, actually, certainly not right now. Her body arched into the touch of his hand, head falling back as she hummed in pleasure. “Fuck, I’d like to see that.” She said, her voice a breathless laugh, picturing Kristoff all wound up over someone putting their hands on her. Mitte slid her hands up into his hair and got real close, until their mouths were almost touching, a coy smirk on her lips. “I bet it would be hot.” And then she kissed him, leaning back and pulling Kristoff with her until she’d collapsed back against the mattress, him hovering over her, so she could finally get at the zipper of his jeans properly and start pushing them down. “Off.” She demanded against his mouth when she’d moved them as far as she could reach, taking her hands off Kristoff long enough to start removing her own jeans. 

KRISTOFF

He went easily, more than happy to situate himself over her, too busy kissing her to even notice the change in position at first. He wasn’t going to argue — he shifted only so that he could get his jeans off and throw them blindly onto the floor, crumpled in a heap somewhere, probably. He wasn’t really thinking about that either, too focused on getting back to Mitte so he could help to wrangle her jeans down her legs, tossing them to one side as well once they were out the way. 

He settled again between her thighs, running his hands over the soft skin of them, up and over until he came to a stop at her hips, thumbs rubbing over the fabric of her panties. “It would be stupid,” he informed her in the same low voice, leaning down to kiss her again, slow and deep. He pulled back, kissing across her jaw, down her neck, a trail of kisses and gentle nips until his lips met the same material that his thumbs were still toying with. “We’d get in trouble.” He added, speaking the words into her skin.

MITTE 

They were going to have to play catch up in the morning, and Mitte didn’t care one bit. She hoped none of her contacts got back to her and Mr Goodfellow was the most impossible to find man in the world, so they had plenty of excuses to stay cooped up in a hotel in Shanghai, far away from their boss and their real lives. The two things that would put the biggest strain on this. Whatever this was. But of course, they were too good at their jobs, and they’d probably find the bloke by tomorrow afternoon. 

So, Mitte was just going to have to soak all this in right now, and it was easy to focus up, especially when Kristoff dropped his voice again. A shiver ran through her whole body when he spoke and Mitte opened her mouth, intent on saying something cheeky, but he stole her mouth first and her want to antagonise him crumbled under the intensity of their kiss. 

As he made his way down her body the only sounds Mitte managed to make were those of pleasure, soft little moans and catches of breath. Eventually though, her voice did come back. “Are you trying to discourage me?” She asked, voice a touch strangled, as one of her hands found its way into Kristoff’s hair again, "you know how I feel about trouble…"  Her hips shifted of their own accord, impatient for whatever he had in mind to do next, “wouldn’t you like to see me punished?” Mitte pushed up onto her elbows to look down at him, one brow arched. 

KRISTOFF

Yeah, he had expected exactly that reaction from her. He hid a smile in the skin of her stomach, looking up at her when she sat up a little. He could go for the innocent act, he supposed — he was good at playing dumb, usually because he was, in fact, pretty dumb — but it was so much more fun to see the way she reacted to that voice. It was meant to be gruff, intimidating. It was gruff and intimidating. She just liked that, he supposed.

“Sure,” he answered, shifting up a little so that he wasn’t resting on his elbows, hooking his fingers under the fabric of her panties so he could begin to tug them down her legs and out the way. “If I can do the punishing.”

Now that might have been his best performance yet— he didn’t even know where it had come from. Mildly embarrassed, mostly rolling with it, he kept his eyes down, hands running over the inside of her thighs until he could run his thumb along her slit, just brushing over her clit. “And anyways, I’d get in trouble too.” 

Mitte 

Yeah, Mitte did like gruff and intimidating. Kinda funny that she had ended up as one of the good guys, honestly. It was Kristoff that made all the difference. One of the only constants in her life, and one of the good guys through and through. Mitte’s moral compass had a polarity problem, Kristoff was the magnet that brought her back to true north every time she strayed. 

Hey, she didn’t need real bad guys if he could put on the voice and make her feel like she was melting into a puddle on their hotel bed. Mitte lifted her hips a little to help him with her underwear, her eyes going wide at what he said. Oh, yes please. She stared down at him, all hunger and anticipation, but her head lolled back when he finally touched her, pleasure shooting up her spine. 

"If this is how you punish me I'm gonna do something bad every day." Mitte moaned, one of her hands already twisted in the sheets. "Fine." Though she would have enjoyed him being jealous enough to cause a scene, she never liked getting Kristoff in trouble. "No more bribing waitstaff." She sighed, trying to wriggle closer to his teasing hands. 

KRISTOFF

This was so different to last time. Last time had been a flurry of clothes flying off, hands and mouths everywhere, no time for talking cause they were far too preoccupied— this was different. More intimate somehow, and Kristoff wanted to draw it out. He wanted to take his time. The way she moaned, her white knuckle grip on the sheets. He wanted to drink all of it in and commit it to memory, just in case.

He stifled a laugh against the inside of her thigh, the pad of his thumb rubbing slow, teasing circles over her clit, wanting to take his time but desperate to hear her make those sounds again. “I don’t think you mean that.” He said, if only because he knew her — Mitte had a habit of getting herself into trouble.

Deciding he had no more argument to make, he shifted, bringing his mouth down to replace his thumb, humming softly at the taste of her.

MITTE

He was so pretty. Mitte was staring down at Kristoff between her legs, his mouth pressed into her thigh, his blond hair falling into his eyes… And thought he was so pretty. She'd noticed before, obviously, but in this context it made something in the pit of her stomach feel funny. When had this happened? When had how she cared about him become this, and with such ease she hadn't even realised?

She was going to protest- to be surely or seductive, something about being a good girl, that might have tripped him up, but as she was watching him Kristoff dipped his head and the only noise Mitte managed to make was a strangled gasp.

"Kristoff." She moaned, needy and soft as she fell back into the mattress fully again, writhing and rocking her hips up into the pleasure of his mouth. One of Mitte’s hands slid down her body to tangle in his hair and she pulled gently, gauging how he'd like the encouragement.

KRISTOFF

The way she said his name was one thing, the kind of her voice making heat pool in his stomach, but he groaned as her hand slipped into his hair. The grip on her hips tightened just a little, not wanting to hold on too hard but wanting her to know that yeah, she could do more of that. Maybe things were a little less slapdash than they had been last time but that didn’t mean they had to be gentle, either. Not as far as he was concerned, anyways.

He lapped at her clit, tongue stroking small circles around it before he shifted a little, dipping his tongue inside of her just enough to properly taste her, humming low in his throat when he did. He didn’t linger, though, moving his mouth back to her clit so he could slip a finger inside of her instead, looking up so he could watch her as he did his best to make her moan like that again.

MITTE

Oh yeah, Kristoff liked that. Good to know that it hadn’t been an anomaly that first time. (Something that crossed her mind far more often than it should: the way he’d scooped Mitte up and slammed her back against the wall, like he just couldn’t contain himself.) Mitte’s fingers slid against his scalp and she pulled more firmly at his hair. 

Her toes curled as Kristoff pushed a finger inside her, and Mitte tried to be conscious of keeping her noise to a reasonable level, but they’d just have to hope that a classy joint like this had decent soundproofing. “More more more.” She asked- pleaded, maybe, perhaps whined- her hips grinding into his hand and mouth. 

While he teased, Mitte reached around her back with her free hand to unclasp her bra finally, letting go of Kristoff’s hair only long enough to pull the straps off both arms and toss it to the side. 

KRISTOFF

As nice as it was to hear her asking for it, he wasn’t going to make her beg. He slid a second finger inside of her alongside the first, crooking them just a little so he could find the spot that would make her forget all about how well soundproofed the room may or may not be. He couldn’t have cared less, really — if anything, it was good for their cover story.

He looked up again when her hand slid from his hair, already missing the feeling of her nails scratching across his scalp. He was easily distracted, though, his gaze following her bra as it was tossed across the room. Somehow, in his haste to get to where he was now, he had forgotten all about it. Stupid of him, really. Next time (because there would be a next time, there had to be, he was sure of it), he wouldn’t be so careless.

Especially not now, knowing what he had been missing. The urge to shift, to kiss his way back up her body until he could run his tongue over her breasts, take the sensitive flesh of her nipple into his mouth and roll his tongue over it just to see her reaction was kind of overwhelming. He did pull back just a little, though, when he saw the light glinting off the jewellery there. “Are those—“ he was a little breathless, and just a little bit at a loss for words, hair falling into his eyes. The rhythm of his fingers slowed but didn’t stop, pressing into her almost leisurely. “Yknow those piercings have gotta be a safety hazard.”

MITTE

She didn’t have the focus needed to stop the sharp, open mouthed cry of pleasure that Kristoff teased out of her so easily with his fingers, her hips bucking up into the sensation, chasing the feeling that was starting to make the muscles of her thighs shake. God, if he kept this up she’d be a boneless mess before they even fucked. 

Since getting them, she had experienced a range of reactions to the nipple piercings. Kristoff, out to break the mould as always, was the first person to call them a safety hazard.

Mitte managed to gather enough of her wits to huff, hauling herself back up onto her elbows. “If you can’t find something better to do with your mouth than talk about my tits being a safety hazard, I’m putting my clothes back on.” Mitte warned, though the threat was lacking any bite, breathless and wanton as she still was, her hips still rocking into Kristoff’s fingers, all the more maddening for the pace he had slowed to. She cocks a brow at him, a challenge. “Be normal, and tell me they’re sexy, or shut up.” It’s a facade which lasts all of a few seconds before the push of his hand has her head rolling back again. 

KRISTOFF

He knew that was an empty threat; there was no way she was putting her clothes back on, and no way he would let her do it anyhow. Alright, so he hasn’t really meant for that to be his only comment — but excuse him for having his brain short circuit when he learned about the piercings. Had she always had those? Surely not, cause he would’ve noticed, so when—?

His brain was still sparking out trying to comprehend it all so in the finish he gave up, focusing instead on the way her hips rolled into his hand, movements synchronising. 

“They’re sexy,” he informed her, because it was true, they were sexy, enough to hold his attention completely for a few seconds longer before his mouth found its way between her legs again.

MITTE

Now, she was rarely happy to admit defeat, but in this one instance, Mitte gladly conceded to Kristoff. His mouth, his hands, the way he gave her what she wanted. He could win every day of the week if this was her consolation prize. She gave up on the idea of coherent sentences, the warmth that had started to stir in her gut way back when Kristoff had kissed her bubbling all the way up until it was boiling, making her whole body arch and twist in whatever direction brought the most pleasure. Mitte’s hand reached down into his hair again, pulling and desperate as sensations built, her moans reaching a crescendo as she came undone, going very still for just a moment before collapsing back into the mattress, all but boneless and satisfied and panting.

Well, satisfied? Maybe not the right word. Sated temporarily, perhaps. Certainly not finished. The rush of adrenaline made her hands a little shaky, but Mitte pulled at Kristoff’s hair again with what strength she could gather, trying to drag him back up. “C’mere.” She said softly, a bit dazed and blinking up at the ceiling. “Kiss me.” 

KRISTOFF

The hand in his hair and the feeling of her clenching around him, coming undone around his fingers and under his tongue was almost too much. Another thing to try and commit to memory, though; he watched her as she fell apart and then waited for to come back again, pressing soft kisses to the inside of her thighs until he felt the tug on his hair.

He didn’t need to be told twice — he shifted up onto his knees so that he could hover over her, shelter her in with one hand by her head and the other skirting over the soft skin of her ribs. He was already hard and aching with wanting her but when he kissed her it was slow, deep, deliberately taking his time.

MITTE

She had a renewed appreciation for Kristoff’s ability to follow orders so well. Sometimes it was kind of a buzzkill, but she might never complain about it again after tonight. (Or if she did, he’d have to remind her how much she really liked it.) 

Mitte’s hands splayed out on his chest as they kissed, then slid around to his back, where her nails scratched lightly up and down. She hummed her pleasure against his mouth as the kiss slowed for both of them to take a breath, and smiled up at Kristoff, something soft and dreamy that became far cheekier as she spoke. “Can you guess what I want you to do to me next?” She asked, trying to pull him down more firmly on top of her while her hips arched up to grind against his, the hard length of him such a tease against her oversensitive skin that it made Mitte whimper. Her hands roamed down to his boxers, to start pushing them down.

KRISTOFF

The scratch of her nails over his skin made him shiver, the muscles of his back twitching, shifting under his skin. It was enough for him to catch his breath every now and again, pulling away for just a second before he would find himself being pulled back in again, drawn towards her, her lips. He kissed her slowly, almost lazily, as if they had all the time in the world.

They didn’t, of course, but the mission was the last thing on his mind right now. He gave a soft, strangled sounding moan when she rolled her hips up against his, letting her pull him close, firmer as he hovered over her. He knew exactly what she was wanting, and though he didn’t bat her hands away from the waistband of his boxers he didn’t help her either, nipping at her jawline instead. “I’ve got an idea,” he admitted, “but I’d still like it if you told me.”

MITTE

He kissed her and he kissed her and he kissed her and Mitte felt almost dizzy off of it. What would happen in the morning? She didn’t think she’d want to slip quietly out of bed to get dressed and start on their day’s work like last time. She didn’t think Kristoff would let her, either. Not after what had been admitted tonight. Her jealousy, his long held fondness. At least, he’d admitted it, and Mitte had danced around her own emotions as close to the words as she’d been able to get.

Kristoff’s desire to draw things out clearly extended beyond his kisses. Mitte made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, already so thoroughly wound up and writhing. Maybe she had drawn things out long enough, herself. “I was jealous of her.” She said, all of it coming out in one rush of breath, one hand sliding all the way up to Kristoff’s chin to angle his face up to look at her, the smile she wore expectant, “and I want you to fuck me.” 

KRISTOFF

He liked the little frustrated sound that she made, grinning against her skin as he found a new spot to sink his teeth into. He knew he wouldn’t let it, he wouldn’t let this be the last time this happened, not after he had admitted to Mitte how he felt about it, but just in case it was the last time, he wanted to hear her say it. Another thing to commit to memory, just to be on the safe side. 

He went easily when she tilted his chin, his eyes finding that gentle smile and softening. He looked at her for a moment, just a few seconds though it felt like longer, before he leaned down to kiss her again, deep and slow. “Okay,” Was all he said, because it was all he could really manage, shifting backwards until he could pull his boxers off and throw them to one side, taking his hard cock in hand with a low hum.

MITTE

He was her person. That was what came to mind as Kristoff looked up at her. If that was selfish or possessive or over dramatic Mitte didn’t really care, because it was the truth, and they both spent so much of their time dealing in lies. No room for those here, with Kristoff finally shedding the last layer between them.

Mitte stared across at him, her gaze hungry. “Okay?” She repeated, shaking her head as she hauled herself up to reach for him, her arms winding around his neck, “if I didn’t have hard proof I’d be starting to think you weren’t too enthusiastic about the idea.” Mitte was smiling all coy as she shifted back onto the mattress, pulling Kristoff down with her again. It was a good thing she didn’t really want him to be good with other women.  

She kissed him, and in the brief gaps where their mouths parted, “actually- wait.” Mitte put her hands on his chest to push gently, rolling them over ‘till Kristoff’s back hit the mattress softly and she could straddle him. “Perfect.” That was a nice view, for sure, Kristoff with his pretty blonde hair framing his face so nicely, his whole focus on her. She sat up after trailing a few more kisses down his neck, her hands bracing on his chest so she could sink down slowly onto his cock, her head rolling back as she did. When their hips were flush again Mitte was still for a moment before starting to move, nails digging into his skin.

KRISTOFF

He wanted to say something funny about actions and how they speak larger than words, or maybe something about reading between the lines or maybe just anything at all that would make it seem like he wasn’t totally at a loss for words. The truth of it was, though, that Mitte was looking at him with those big, soft eyes, and for a second the desperate ache in his groin was secondary to the ache in his chest, his ribs feeling too tight against the beating of his heart.

He didn’t say anything in the end, only rolled his eyes and smiled like he couldn’t believe her bullshit and then, when she pulled him closer, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His lips found the pulse point there, thrumming over his tongue, about to suck another mark into her pale skin when she pushed back.

Kristoff frowned, momentarily confused at why she was pushing back and not pulling closer but he went anyways, letting her manoeuvre them. As soon as he was on his back his hands found her waist, one reaching up higher, taking her breast in his hand and squeezing momentarily before he gave a soft, strangled sound. The feeling of her, warm, tight, and wet around him was enough for him to see stars for a moment. “Fuck, Mitte—“ he groaned, breath catching as she rolled her hips.

MITTE

It seemed impossible that she would have forgotten how good he felt, considering how often it had crossed her mind since the first time this happened, but memory really didn’t have the same impact. If Mitte ever really believed that just knowing what this felt like would be enough, being so desperate for him all over again- maybe moreso, even if it wasn’t quite as frantic- sure killed that delusion. She wanted to do this over and over until she knew every contented sound, every muscle twitch, everything about Kristoff in these moments, as well as she knew him in every other. 

“That’s more like it.” She panted when he spoke up again, every breath cut through with soft little whimpers. Mitte moved slowly at first to enjoy the sight of him underneath her, and study the ways pleasure washed over his  features when she tipped her hips just so at a certain angle, let her nails bite into his skin a little harder, trailed her hands up and down her own body. After a while she shifted to lean more of her weight against her hands, palms flat against Kristoff’s chest again, so she could move faster. “Tell me-” Mitte said soft and breathless, leaning down enough to kiss him, interrupting herself because he looked too damn good, “tell me you get jealous. Tell me what you want.”

(Her, obviously, and if he was too pleasure drunk to say anything else it would do, but she wanted to hear whatever would tumble out of his mouth when he wasn’t thinking.) 

KRISTOFF

For a second he didn’t say anything, caught off guard by the change of pace so much that it was all he could do to tip his head back against the cushions beneath him and groan, jaw slack. His hands gripped her hips, her sides, keeping her close to him as he kissed her back clumsily.

“Of course I— I’m always jealous.” He managed to get out, his voice sounding harsh and rasping even to his own ears. He couldn’t quite catch his breath, not with her nails digging into the skin of his chest and her walls clenching down around him as she ground her hips down against his. He wasn’t much of a talker, not really, but Mitte had a way of drawing it out of him.

“Want you,” he managed, reaching up so he could kiss her again, catching her mouth with his own. “Always you.”

MITTE 

Whatever problems came of this, it was worth it. The sight of Kristoff underneath her right now, the feeling of his fingers digging into her hips and his cock throbbing inside her, god, she’d betray everyone and everything she knew for this. Well. Not for the sex alone. But for him, yes. Which was exactly why romances between spies were very much discouraged, but Mitte had never been a stickler for the rules, official or unspoken.

Always he said, and for once she wasn’t terrified of that, of the unending expanse of always laid out ahead of them. “You’ve got me.” Mitte promised against his mouth, breathless as she trailed more kisses down Kristoff’s neck to leave a mark of her own against his collarbone. 

“Oh fuck, Kristoff, I’m…” Words were quickly abandoned as the steady rhythm of her hips started to stutter, and Mitte could do nothing but moan, her face buried in the crook of his neck as she came apart with a shudder. Her motions slowed while she caught her breath but she didn’t stop, pushing gently on Kristoff’s shoulders ‘till he was flat against the mattress again. She let her body melt into his and then she kissed him softly, hips still rocking as her hands slid into his hair. 

KRISTOFF

He looked up at her, his gaze a little hazy, to be honest. Still, he saw the look on her face, the expression she wore. Mitte was an incredibly good liar — they had to be, both of them, in their profession — but he could see through it. He had always seen her for who she really was, and right now she was genuine. She meant it; he had her. She was his. A moan escaped him when he felt her lips against his collarbone, knowing somewhere in the bad of his mind that she’d left a mark there, that he was hers just as much as she was his.

He held her tightly as she tipped over the edge again, coming with a shudder, tightening around his cock in a way that had him seeing stars for a moment. He was so close, about to tell her so but she had come back to him, catching his lips in a kiss so that all he could do was let out a strangle groan. He pulled back just a little way, not far at all, really, feeling her breath against his cheek as he panted into her jaw. His hands found her hips, fingers pressing tight into her skin as he held her close to him. The scratch of her fingernails against her scalp, the incessant rhythm of her hips— he came with her name on his lips, panted into her skin, the feel of her around him, on top of him, the scent of her, the only things he was aware of.

His hands slipped from her hips as he came back to himself, sliding up her sides, over her arms, her neck, to cradle her face. He kissed her again, slowly, tenderly, and pulled back to look at her. “You mean that.” It wasn’t a question. Just a statement; letting her know that he knew she meant it. “I’ve got you.”

MITTE She was boneless and breathless and warm, one forearm pressed heavily into the mattress by Kristoff’s head, doing just enough to hold her up so she could look down at him, all of her muscles burning and her head spinning. It was akin to the feeling after a good sparring match. Only if it had been with Kristoff, of course. No one else had ever matched her quite so well. 

It had been true for a long time, one of those things Mitte couldn’t dispute but had refused to acknowledge. He had her. She had said it without pausing to think, yes, but Mitte didn’t feel any less certain as the two of them finally stilled, sated. Kristoff had always been the one to inspire her most honest reactions, the waitress debacle was proof enough of that. The only concerns she had were centred around the agency, and what the reaction would be when this got out. Because it would, even if the two of them did everything in their power to keep a lid on it, and then what? Would they be split up? They did their best work together, neither of them would’ve even taken the job in the first place without the other. 

Kristoff was kissing her again, and Mitte decided it wasn’t worth worrying about. “Who else could ever?” She pointed out softly, relieved her face would already be too beet red for any blush to show through. That too, was true, though it did make the enormity of this whole thing harder to ignore. There was nobody else. “I suppose I don’t have to ask what you intend to do with me.” Her mouth tipped up in one corner in a lazy smirk, and she dipped her head to press a kiss at the base of Kristoff’s throat, settling with her head against his chest.

KRISTOFF

He ran his fingertips over her side as she looked down at him, feeling the racing over her heart as his hand brushed over her ribs. He smiled softly, maybe just a little bit smug. Who else could ever, she said, and maybe he had known it all along but it really was nice to hear her say it out loud.

When she settled against him he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her just a little bit closer. He kissed the top of her head, settling back so that his gaze was tipped up at the ceiling. It would be complicated. The agency would throw a fit, probably. They’d have to fight to go on missions together. But they could make it work; he was sure of that, at least.

“I have a few ideas,” he admitted, smiling to himself, since she couldn’t see it. “We should probably stop the bad guy first, though. Then at least we can say we’re still capable of doing our jobs.” 

MITTE

Bad guy. Right. They had a bad guy to catch, so they were gonna have to do that before they could do this again. Ugh. “Work sucks.” Mitte mumbled into his chest. Were they crazy for doing this? Were they crazy for not doing it sooner? Sometimes, these things really did have to hit you like a grand piano falling out of the sky in a cartoon. A glimpse of how she would feel if he chose someone else. 

“But you’re right.” She sighed, “that’s the first line in the book they’ll throw at us, so if we can handle this quickly it’ll be harder to stop us.” She frowned against Kristoff’s skin, her hands curling a bit tighter around him. “Not that they won’t keep trying.” Mitte wondered what the play was here, if they should out themselves immediately upon return or try to keep things under wraps until it inevitably spilled out. The latter afforded them the chance to sneak around which was fun, but the likelihood of a punishment- and not the sexy kind Kristoff had already claimed an interest in- was high. 

Mitte just… Didn’t want the outside world muscling in on whatever this was before they’d even had a chance to settle into it. But she supposed that was the sensible way to go about things, the proper way. Everyone would figure them out no matter what they did of course, and then it would begin, the comments and questions and bothersome nudges that Mitte truly hated. “...What are we gonna do?” She asked softly, not sure he’d have an answer but searching for something anyway, about more than the next couple of days.

KRISTOFF

Kristoff took a deep breath, casting his gaze to the ceiling for a moment as he thought, his thumb brushing backwards and forwards over Mitte’s skin gently. Of course the agency would hate it – they would never let the two of them work together again. There weren’t very many couples at the agency, mostly because it was a stupid, terrible idea. And Kristoff knew that it was; getting involved with your partner was the best way to make sure that you would eventually slip up, get emotional, give the enemy some leverage over you. And yet, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

“We review the audio you got from Goodfellow’s room,” He said, knowing it wasn’t what she meant. Still, in terms of next steps, that was what they had to do. “Figure out where exactly he is – he must have some kind of meeting set up out here. We intercept, we take him in. And we keep this,” He looked down at her, kissing the top of her head again. “To ourselves. Just for now. Everyone thinks we act like an old married couple anyways,” He added, smiling ruefully. “They probably won’t know anything’s different. We’ll tell them eventually, just… on our terms.”

MITTE

It was strange, how not strange this was. Even last time, when the frenzy had ended and the two of them had stayed tangled together, and Kristoff had been overthinking it so hard that Mitte had practically seen the steam coming out of his ears, she had not for a moment felt uncomfortable in his arms. Every soft brush of his hand now just helped work out the lingering tension in her muscles, and she could feel her eyelids starting to droop. 

“They’re going to have a field day when we eventually tell them…” Mitte sighed, leaning up enough to kiss him again, because there probably wouldn’t be a lot of time to do so tomorrow. Her thumb brushed gently across Kristoff’s cheek as she looked down at him, trying not to picture the teasing. It only meant she’d suffer twice, and she knew he’d be right by her side when it did all eventually have to come out. For Kristoff, she’d endure it. Hopefully without killing anyone. “We should get some sleep.” She said, pouting and surly, shifting some of her weight off Kristoff to snuggle into his side. “Promise I’ll still be in bed when you wake up this time.” Mitte pulled the duvet up around them, and gave him another last kiss, and then another for good measure. “Goodnight.” She murmured against his skin, tucking in real close before closing her eyes and finally letting sleep take her.

KRISTOFF

Yeah, they would have a field day, and it wasn’t just teasing and jokes that he was worried about. Kristoff and Mitte always worked together, and they were some of the best. If anyone could begin to doubt them they were going to do it, try to throw a spanner in the works to get the two of them stuck in an office or chasing petting criminals rather than taking the big jobs. The two of them had worked too hard to get to where they were for that to happen, which was part of the reason why Kristoff wanted to wait. So that they could make sure this was done on their own terms, to prove that it wasn’t going to change anything. They were a team, same as they always had been, just… even more so, now.

He smiled softly at the promise she gave him. He didn’t doubt her, either. He held her close, listening to her breathing go slow and even before he let sleep pull him under as well – they were going to need an early start in the morning.

[hannieehaee]

BAD HABIT

18+ / mdi

summary: hiding his secret crush on you was already hard enough for jungkook, and after getting bit by a spider, he'd now have the grueling task of hiding his brand-new superhero identity from you.

content: spiderman!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, based on mcu's spiderman and is supposed to take place during/after civil war but with an aged up spiderman, college-aged Jungkook and reader, picture tattoo-less 2019 jungkook, pining, slow burn-ish, afab reader, smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 9.4k

a/n: despite the spiderman aspect of it, this is just a cute little love story between two besties there's no angst or action here lol sorry</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Oh my God, did you see what he did last night?", you excitedly shoved your phone in Jungkook's direction, showing him yet another news article detailing Spiderman's newest act of bravery.

"What, did he stop another bank robbery?", Jungkook showed disinterest in your interruption, continuing to pay attention to what was playing on the TV.

"Okay, booo! Why are you so lame about him? He's so cool," you complained, setting your back against the couch again with a frown.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Just don't see what the big deal is about him. There's cooler superheroes out there."

With the light from the TV shinning on the two of you, you allowed the content from the movie to consume you for a bit before arguing back. You always argued back when it came to Spiderman. This was practically routine to Jungkook by now.

"Like Iron Man? Sure, Tony Stark's cool, but think about it — Spiderman's probably just a regular person like you and me. Can you imagine doing all he does while keeping it all undercover?", you rambled on, "Also his body's crazy," you added as an afterthought, almost whispering it to yourself.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at this, inadvertently looking down at his own abdomen before responding, "How do you know he's got a nice body under that suit?"

"You can literally see his abs through the suit! Duh!", you tutted at him as if he were an idiot to question you.

"Ah, right. My bad," he chuckled, "Okay, whatever. Just pay attention to the movie. You can ramble about him all you want after we finish, okay?," he held up his pinky towards you in a childish fashion, grinning when you giggled at him and intertwined your pinky with him, grumbling a 'fine' in mock annoyance.

Now with you both putting your focus on the movie, — Jungkook's all-time favorite, Back to the Future — Jungkook had the opportunity to lose himself to his own head, thinking about your recent obsession with Spiderman — New York's newest hero.

After Spiderman's recent appearance at an encounter with the Avengers in Germany, followed by a more prominent presence in the streets of New York with a revamped suit, you had instantly formed an intense interest in the masked man. Prior to that, the hero was mostly a man hidden in the shadows — a myth to all those in Queens. Almost immediately upon his return to New York he became a sensation across the world, but specially around the area in which he'd serve the people and fight all evil around.

Among all those fans stood you, maybe the biggest of them all.

It didn't take you long to develop a liking to the masked man upon his sudden resurgence. Jungkook had known you to get overly invested in your interests (there had been a few instances throughout your friendship where you'd demonstrated as such), but he never thought you'd be the type to develop such a blatant crush on someone you virtually knew nothing about. Past the fact that he was the youngest addition to the Avengers, there was not much information about Spiderman out to the general public, yet you were quite loud about your crush on him to everyone you knew — especially to Jungkook, who just so happened to be your best friend.

Unfortunately to Jungkook, you were entirely unaware that the man you were actually crushing on was your best friend in disguise.

And even more unfortunate to him, you were even more unaware of Jungkook's own crush on you.

Did this count? Were you technically crushing on Jungkook?

He chose to go for the most pesimistic answer and assume that your interest in Spiderman would immediately die upon finding out his real identity. Throughout your many years of knowing each other — all through the ups and downs of middle school and high school all the way to university — you'd never once shown anything but platonic interest in him.

To be fair, Jungkook also never gave you any clear indication of his feelings for you. He liked to think that he was discrete about it; that you had no idea of the embarrassing crush he'd been cultivating since freshman year of high school. Fortunately, you appeared to be far too oblivious to it, leaving Jungkook to hold not one but two life-altering secrets, never once considering letting you in on either of them.

For now, all Jungkook could do was make up lame excuses for his sudden absences and to grumble any time Spiderman's name was brought up. Part of him held disdain for Spiderman due to having to keep him a secret from you, but most of his dislike was born out of jealousy over your interest in him. What did he have that Jungkook didn't? Nothing! But he could never tell you that, leading him to a never-ending dilema that he could entrust in no one.

The movie left his mind for the next of the night, much more so when you seemed to become disinterested again, cuddling against him as you prepared to let yourself fall asleep. This was common in your relationship, though it was always strictly platonic. It always left Jungkook wanting more, but still content at having you by his side.

The next time you brought up Spiderman was the morning after. That night, you'd fallen asleep soon before the Back to the Future marathon ended, which was coincidentally the same time in which he usually went out to patrol the city looking for crime nearby. Leaving you comfy on his couch and cuddled against some of his plushies, he made his way out to check in on the city. That night was particularly calm, as he only prevented two street burglaries before making his way back to a still-sleeping you.

Naturally, he fell asleep next to you, only waking up the following morning when you'd woken him up by shaking his side, exclaiming something about some news you'd just seen online. Before even coming to his senses, he could already tell what you were so excited about. It was a conflicting feeling really, consisting of half cockiness and half annoyance. He felt pride at how impressed you were at his actions (despite not having knowledge that they were his), though he also felt annoyed that it was his secret identity who took credit for it.

With a yawn, he finally turned to you in order to entertain your insistence on raving about the masked man who'd been spotted once again last night.

"Oh my God! Jungkook, look! He stopped some burglars just a few streets over! Do you think he passed by here? — What if he climbed on our walls? That's so crazy," you went a mile a minute, "Fuck, I can't believe I slept through it," you pouted by the end of your rambles, practically huffing and puffing.

Once more, he couldn't help but chuckle at your antics. Despite his internal annoyance at the mere existence of Spiderman, he was also thankful his presence gave him a first row seat to how adorably infatuated you could get.

"Not like you could've met him anyways," but then he burst your bubble anyways.

"Stop! I could never meet him, I'd embarrass myself too badly. He's too cool for me anyways," you laughed to yourself, beginning to get up and taking some clothes from one of the drawers nearby, — Jungkook's apartment housed some of your clothes specifically for nights like these — heading over to the bathroom and presumably beginning to get dressed as soon as you were outside of his line of sight, not even bothering to close the door.

"Really? He could just be a loser under that costume," he commented, knowing it'd get under your skin.

Leaning back against the couch with his arms behind his head in a relaxed manner, he didn't even need his spidey reflexes to predict the shirt you threw his way in defiance due to his comment. He simply let it land on his chest, chuckling at your cute childishness.

"C'mon! You don't have to defend him from every little comment I make. He's a superhero, right? He's got tough skin," he whined at you, crumpling the shirt into a ball and tossing it into the clothes bin nearby with an expert precision.

Finally coming out of the restroom fully dressed, you grumbled at him as you ransacked his living room in search for your makeup bag, "You're just jealous of him," you hummed, disinterested in his complaints.

"Jealous? Of what? Not having to risk my life on a daily basis?"

Oh, how he wished that was the case sometimes.

"Spiderman must have so much game. Meanwhile, when was the last time you had a girlfriend?", you mocked him, finally spotting your makeup and sitting on the floor in front of his full length mirror in order to do your makeup.

Getting up, he sat on a beanbag nearby, watching you through the reflection with a scowl.

"M-me? Without game? You're the one crushing on a nameless man who probably doesn't even have a place to live! At least I have my bachelor pad — which, by the way, you stay at free of charge!", he rebutted, somewhat offended but not really. He just really needed to win this fight against himself.

"Please, I could totally pull him if we were in the same room for five minutes," you smirked at him through the reflection, somehow grooming your eyebrows to absolute perfection despite the current argument going on.

"You literally just said he was too cool for you," he recalled back.

"Under that suit, he's just a man. And I could pull any man."

Pull me, please! a desperate gremlin in his head practically whined as soon as you said the words.

With a shake of his head, he cleared his mind of that thought, "Okay, valid. So, you mean to tell me that you're just waiting for the chance to catch him alone? Is that why you haven't dated in months?", he genuinely wondered.

"Maybe," you mumbled, now moving onto your blush, one of Jungkook's favorite touches in your makeup regimen, "How about you? How come you haven't seriously dated a girl in years? Any secret crush I need to know about? I'm very open about mine," you dug in, unknowingly making Jungkook break a sweat at the questioning glare you sent him through the mirror before refocusing your gaze on yourself.

Facing Captain America and the Winter Soldier had made him less nervous than this very moment.

He squirmed in his seat a bit before managing to let out a credible response, "Just- just not into anyone these days," he lamely responded.

"Boo," you boo'd him, "That's lame. Maybe if you wingman me with Spidey I could help you out with some girl," you suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," and that was that for that subject.

After that, the subject wasn't brought up again for the rest of the day. You and Jungkook followed your usual plans, walking over to uni side by side as soon as you finished getting ready and spending any of your down time together. Unlike last night, you opted to head back to your own apartment for the night, leaving Jungkook to freely roam the city in disguise while you probably daydreamed about the guy he wasn't. He kept you in his mind for the rest of the day, sighing any time he remembered how easy it was for you to want to pair him off to another girl, knowing his feelings surely would never be mutual.

Unfortunately for Jungkook, it was extremely difficult for him to ignore your intense interest in Spiderman. His supersonic hearing would not allow him to do so anyway.

He wasn't really in the habit of getting into your private business. Despite his superhuman abilities, he had sworn to himself that he would never spy on you or use any of his newfound skills to ever insert himself in places of your life where he wasn't openly invited.

However ...

Okay, it's not like he meant to be so quiet when he came into your apartment. And it's not like you hadn't invited him beforehand. It was very likely that you wouldn't have minded him hearing the conversation you were currently having with your friend on the phone since it technically did not concern him, but he still couldn't help but feel guilty at being made privy of the details of it.

And the details were harsh to listen to — but not in a bad way.

His nails dug into the edge of the wall as he began making sense of what you were saying — of who you were talking about. His eyebrows furrowed, not sure if in annoyance or if in frustration. Your commentary simply had an unexpected effect on him.

"Oh my God, don't ask me that!," you giggled, scandalized at your phone, "I can't think of him that way, I like him too much. It feels almost disrespectful," you whispered the last bit, as if ashamed yet still giddy.

Without any context, the hopeless romantic side of Jungkook's brain might've allowed him to think you were talking about him. His bionic hearing could make out your friend's words on the other side of the phone perfectly, however, which proved to him that you were in fact speaking of someone else — kind of.

"What, you're talking about him all the time but you tell me you've never had any thoughts of fucking him?", your friend teased on the other aide of the call, causing you to whine in response.

"Of course I have!," you argued back, making Jungkook mentally wince at the thought, "Everyone and their mom knows I'm into him, of course it's not just some elementary school crush, dude. I want him," you put extra emphasis on your last statement.

"Tell me more," your friend pushed.

Jungkook could hear you shuffling in the sheets, likely kicking your feet around due to the giddy emotions thinking about your crush caused within you.

"There's nothing to tell ..." you murmured, avoidant.

"There is, c'mon! It's not like you can talk about this with Jungkook. He hates him," she reminded you, causing Jungkook to nod to himself from the other side of the wall.

"He doesn't hate him. I think he just finds my crush ... dumb," you responded. You were right. Well, kind of.

"Okay, I don't care about that. I wanna hear more about him. You said you were going to try and see him. Have you?", your friend continued to push.

This made Jungkook pause.

Would you actually go as far as to try and seek out Spiderman? How would you even find him?

"Well," you started, dragging out the vowel, "I caught a peak of him the other day — don't say anything!," you interrupted yourself, "Jungkook doesn't know, it just happened the other day. And he'll call me reckless or something."

"What'd you see?", your friend was clearly excited at the news, ecstatic to heat more. Jungkook was more so anxious to hear more. How had he not spotted you?

"I caught him in the middle of changing out of his suit ..." you whispered, as if someone could possibly be listening in — if only you knew.

"What?!," if your friend was excited, she was over the moon now.

"I saw him making his way through the city with his little webs and he stopped by near me. It was total luck, but I recognized the alley where he stopped and ran there," you recounted, "All I could see by the time I got there was a guy speed walking away from the alley while adjusting a black sweatshirt — it was obviously him! Even speed walking he was too fast for me," you finished with an intake of breath.

"So you're saying you saw his abs, basically," was all your friend responded.

"Stop!," you whined, "But yeah ... I might've gotten to see his happy trail ... He had a mask and beanie on, so I didn't catch his face at all," he could hear the pout on your face, "Not that I wanted to! I'd never wanna find him out without his permission. I just wanted to see him up close."

Jungkook believed this. He knew that you'd respect anyone's privacy, specially someone who you had grown certain affection for.

He was still shocked by this information, though. You'd spotted him? How had he not noticed you? And on top of it all, you'd almost caught him suit-less. A tiny, and frankly stupid, part of him felt a little cocky at knowing you'd seen him in action — at knowing you'd seen part of his body and liked it. His regular self was quite modest around you, not wanting to cross any boundaries nor cause you to feel liberal enough to walk around bare near his vicinity (his brain would just not he able to handle that). It was already hard enough for him to see you in those tiny little shorts and tank tops you'd wear to sleep during the summer. He hoped he had a similar effect on you, and knowing he somewhat had it made him feel like he was on top of the world.

And then your conversation continued.

"You should've followed him, you dumbass! Don't you wanna know where that happy trail leads?," your friend encouraged.

"As much as I'd love to get him in bed, I can't just stalk him! Iron Man's secret identity didn't last too long, we'll probably know who Spidey is within a few years and I'll be first in line to get to him," you giggled.

"What are you gonna do once you get to him?"

"Not to get nasty, but the first thing I'd do would be–"

That's when Jungkook stomped his feet and made his presence to you known, acting as if he'd just arrived. There was no way he'd be able to hear your thoughts and still be able to look you in the eye afterward.

"Y/N? You home?", he stealthily made his way back to the front door before calling out to you, surely interrupting your conversation.

"Shit, never mind, Kook's here. Gotta go," you said a quick goodbye to your friend before making your way to the living room and welcoming Jungkook.

"Kookie! I forgot you were coming," you walked over to him to give him a quick hug; your usual greeting.

"You should just assume I'm coming at any time," he mumbled into the hug, pulling away and immediately finding his rightful place on your couch, soon joined by you.

"So, what's new?", he turned to you with interest.

You cocked your head to the side in a questioning manner, "Nothing? You just saw me yesterday," you scoff.

"Nothing new with your spider boy?", he feigned disinterest.

"You never wanna hear about him. Why do you ask?"

"Maybe I want to be more supportive," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

From his peripheral he could tell you were looking at him with curiosity in your eyes, likely pondering about his change of heart. It took you a few seconds of silence before shrugging off his unusual interest and continuing the conversation.

"I might've spotted him the other day ...", now you were the one to mumble, looking down to avoid what you likely believed would be a judgmental reaction from him.

"R-really?", he scratched the back of his head, "Where? What'd you see?"

"Y'know, just him swinging around. Saw him heading home, I think. Then I lost track of him," you told him once you'd realized this wasn't some ruse to scold you for your interest again.

"What would you do if you actually met him someday?", he asked nonchalantly. Or at least as nonchalantly as he could manage while recalling the prior response he'd interrupted when you'd been talking to your friend.

Shrugging, you pressed your lips into a line as you pondered it for a bit, "I'd just tell him I'm his fan, I guess. I'd probably be too shy to even speak to him. It's like talking to your high school crush; you just avoid them as much as you can til it goes away," you chuckled to yourself.

He hummed, "Well, if the day ever comes, I think it'd be worth a try to talk to him. Maybe he'll like what he hears."

You nodded along, seemingly mulling over it inwardly, but saying nothing more regarding the matter. Jungkook joined you in dropping the subject, moving on to your usual movie night whilst also thinking over your sudden spotting of his masked self. It was odd to him how you'd somehow spotted him, but that was really the last thing on his mind. What concerned him the most was the sudden desire he felt to fulfill that need to see you while he was in his suit. He craved for you to return his feelings and there was a thoughtless side of him that wanted to get that reaction out of you, even if it meant you'd be reciprocating it to someone else.

Jungkook knew this was a stupid and reckless thing to do.

If Tony Stark were here in this moment, he'd probably take away the brand new suit he'd recently made for him. However, Jungkook was only 21, his hormones were still going crazy; crazy enough for him to make dumb and uncontrolled decisions just based off his feelings.

This was how he came to find himself pacing back and forth on the terrace of your apartment building whilst suited up. Muttering out loud to himself, he fought against himself as to whether or not he should go through with what had been bugging at him since speaking to you about your almost-encounter last week.

After mulling over it for a bit, he came to realize that there was no true harm to actually granting your wish of meeting Spiderman. He knew you to be a reasonable person (despite your claims of wanting to fuck Spiderman — who was a complete stranger to you) and felt reassured that you wouldn't put his identity at risk. On top of that, you had claimed that you probably wouldn't be able to even speak to him if you were to meet him.

The biggest issue was to come up with a reason as to why he'd be paying you a visit in particular. Maybe you were completely clueless as to your best friend's secret identity, but you weren't an idiot. His motives and identity would be immediately suspicious to you due to the strange nature of his apparition. Sure, he could hide his face and voice and even demeanor, but you'd be able to piece the pieces together too easily, anyone would.

Unluckily for him, this was not something he had to worry about for too long, as his plans did not go as smoothly as he had hoped. Just in between his nonsensical rambles to himself, there was an interruption orchestrated by you, with your sudden presence in the terrace throwing him completely off guard. Thank God he hadn't had a chance to take off his mask before you showed up.

"Oh my God," were your only words as you slowly made your way through the door leading to the terrace, choosing not to make your presence unknown.

"Shit," was his sole response, wincing from behind the mask.

"What- what are you doing here? Is it really you?", you asked, slowly making your way closer to his frozen self.

Attempting to switch over to his usual confident demeanor, Jungkook stood up straighter, hands on his hips as he waved over at you. The eyes displayed on his mask replicated his actual facial expression, squinting at you in a friendly manner as he tried to introduce himself in the least awkward way he could muster whilst deepening his voice in order to mask it.

"Hello! I- Yes, it's me! I- uh, was not expecting anyone to be here," he managed, walking over to you and giving you a handshake — something quite out of character for Spiderman, which he hoped you didn't pick up on.

Unfortunately, you did pick up on it, tilting your head to the side in curiosity before returning his handshake. From Jungkook's perspective, you seemed like a mixture of nerves, excitement and genuine curiosity. He couldn't blame you. Your idol/crush had suddenly showed up on the roof of your apartment and was nonchalantly trying to make acquaintances with you.

"I'm so sorry!," you suddenly chirped, letting go of his hand mid handshake, "I wasn't following you, I swear! I live downstairs and sometimes I come up here for air and I saw you and I thought it was you — and it is you! Wow, I- Fuck, hi. I'm Y/N, it's so nice to meet you," you rambled on and on, inflicting pain in Jungkook's heart at how adorable you were.

"Hi, again," he smiled under the mask, "It's fine, uh, this happens more than you may think," he lied, attempting to cover his tracks.

"Really? Do you get spotted a lot?", you wondered.

"It's not super rare, but it's usually while I'm on the run, not like, uh, like this. I was just resting for a bit," he went to casually lean against the railing next to him but pathetically slipping a bit and having to readjust his standing.

He cleared his throat, "So, I take it you're a fan?", he attempted to make conversation.

"I'm literally obsessed with you. I keep up with every article that comes out about you and any sighting of yours," you beamed before cringing to yourself, "Shit, I'm not playing it cool at all, am I?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, "No, you're good, trust me. Most people just scream and run away or ask me to do a backflip — which I can totally do, but it gets repetitive. Others attack me sometimes. It's rare to actually start conversation with me."

"Oh, so am I special, then?", you giggled, taking a few steps forward as you moved to lean on the railing next to him.

And just like that, you took the upper hand in the conversation. The mood shifted the moment you decided to start a flirtation with him, and Jungkook knew he was completely doomed.

Yes, you were absolutely special. Sure, he would occasionally interact with regular citizens of Queens, but he had never actually sought them out for conversation nor even entertained any fanatics of his. For you, however, he was willing to make an exception. God, he had been itching to do this from the moment he found out you had an infatuation with the superhero.

"Y- you- yeah," he cleared his throat, trying again, "You're the only person who hasn't alerted everyone around me of my presence," he regained his suave vibe by the end of the sentence.

"Why would I ever do that?", you pondered out loud, using a flirtatious tone Jungkook had never been on the receiving end of, "Then I wouldn't get to have you all for myself."

Were you closer? Had you moved closer in proximity? He could swear that the distance had lessened from just a few moments ago. This wasn't good, but it was also great.

"O-oh? That's ... Yes, hah, thank you for not exposing me," was all he managed to say. Fuck, his usual wit and ability to banter under the guise of being Spiderman seemingly dissipated when it came to interacting with you.

You giggled at him, likely taking note of how easy it was to fluster him. Jungkook knew you were aware of how attractive you were, also having the ability you turn up the charm whenever you so wished — except he had never dealt with it firsthand. It was both exhilarating and nerve wracking at the same time. He had truly not prepared for this.

"It's no problem," you smiled at him with a hint of something else in your eye, "Since you're such a good guy, y'know, maybe you'd like to return the favor?", you tilted your head at him, lifting your eyebrows suggestively.

"R-repay? How would you suggest?", he managed to regain some of his confidence, now leaning his body a bit more towards your own, smiling under his mask as he attempted to keep his heart rate normal.

"I'm sure you're super busy saving the world and all that, but maybe you'd like to visit again? No one ever comes up here, so it'd just be the two of us," you suggested, biting your lip in anticipation. Despite your confidence, Jungkook could still hear the rapid thumping of your heart — you were nervous about shooting your shot with a certain superhero; understandably so.

He decided to take advantage of the newfound realization that you might've been just as nervous as he was, clearing his throat and ensuring he didn't stutter this time around, "That'd be unfair, though, wouldn't it? To show you favoritism over all my other fans?", he said in flirtatious jest, hoping you caught on.

A pout far too enticing for Jungkook made its way to your lips, "But you just said I was special?", your hand went up to his chest, finger tracing the spider symbol on it.

"I never said that, you did," you couldn't see the teasing grin on his face, but it was there to stay.

"Oh?", you feigned offense, "So you don't think I'm special? Wow, now you really do owe me."

"You're right. Wouldn't want any unhappy citizens in Queens when I can help it," he agreed, taking hold of your wrist and tracing the back of it.

You smiled to yourself then, letting air out through your nose before looking back up at him, "I really do mean it. If you ever need a place to lay low, you can always come," you paused, "And ... If you ever want company, I'm just downstairs," you suggested.

Biting his lips from behind the mask, he nodded, letting go of your hand, "Yeah, I'll take that in mind," he checked his wrist despite there being no watch there, pulling a chuckle from you, "Unfortunately, I have to get back to patrolling now, but I'll see you around?", he asked as he climbed up the ledge of your building, ready to swing away.

"That's up to you, Spiderman," were the last words you said, though they were spoken with a confidence that told him you knew he'd be coming back.

Within just a month, Jungkook had lost count of the times he'd coincidentally found himself on your roof, always showing up at a similar time as that of your first encounter.

At first he played it off as a coincidence, cheekily claiming that he was just passing by and needed some rest. Other times, he'd show up due to legitimate exhaustion as he sought you out for comfort. It was very quick that you began a genuine friendship with one another, having an unspoken agreement of seeing each other there a few times a week late into the afternoon.

The flirtation was still present, but a friendship between you overtook that. This made Jungkook glad in a sense, as he knew he would've felt guilty if anything romantic ever came up without you knowing his real identity. He already felt badly about befriending you without your knowledge, but he felt like he was too late to back out now.

Today was yet another day in which he decided to show up, though this time a little later. Since you lived at the highest floor of your building, his mere presence on the roof was enough to alert you of his arrival, causing you to walk through the door leading to the staircase just moments later.

You were in your pajamas — just some small shorts and a tank top, but it was enough for his eyes to bug out of his head (figuratively, of course). Any time he'd stay over with you, you'd usually opt for a shirt long enough to cover halfway through your thighs, but since Jungkook wasn't present tonight it seemed like you'd chosen a tank top tight enough it'd give him the perfect view of your nipples peaking through the fabric. It bugged him to think you were doing this for Spiderman and not Jungkook, but he was too distracted by the sight of you to mind it too much.

"Hey," you greeted him as you headed his way, "A little late today, huh?"

"Yeah, uh, I was busy with a robbery," he explained, leaning against the veranda as you joined next to him.

"Oh? That sounds dangerous? Are you hurt? Maybe I should take a look?", your hand went up to his chest, pretending to check for injuries.

He laughed and you joined him, biting his lip under the mask, "You're even more dangerous than any bad guy out there, you know that?", he grabbed your wrist and took your hand off his chest, opting to shyly hold onto it instead.

"Me? I'm not the masked man showing up at an unsuspecting girl's apartment in the middle of the night," you teased, hand playing with his own.

"I thought I wouldn't be a stranger by now. We've been meeting for what, a month now? I'd say that's enough to get to know a person," he reasoned.

"Hmm," you pretended to mull over it, "Does that mean there's no chance you'll let me see what's under that mask?", you pouted at him.

This was not the first time you teased him about his secret identity, often bugging him (in a way far too entertaining for him to be actually bugged by it) to let you in on his secret. You swore up and down you'd never tell, offering up your pinky to intertwine with his. Jungkook liked you so much that there were various instances in which he had to catch himself before he ended up agreeing with your request.

"You know I can't do that, gorgeous," it was his turn to flirt. To be fair, as Spiderman, he did have a flirtatious streak to his personality. You weren't the only one on the receiving end of it, but you sure were the only one he meant it with. You also always giggled or blushed when he turned up the charm, which always instigated him into doing it more and more.

"But you said I was special," you reminded him with a smile, "And! We've been meeting for a while. Don't you wanna trust at least one person with your identity? Y'know, if something were to happen to you," even Jungkook could tell you were pulling your reasoning out of your ass, but he couldn't help but feel endeared by you.

Before he could fire back with an equally cheeky response, you interrupted him again, "How about you let me see you some other way?"

He cocked his head to the side with curiosity, unknowing of what you meant.

Hesitantly, your hand let go of his, now engulfing it with both of your hands. Your fingers traced his hands through his gloves, looking up at him for a moment to seek permission for what you were going to go next. Silently, he offered you a nod, allowing you to take off his gloves.

Jungkook couldn't help but feel slightly scared that you might recognize his hands, but finding no reaction in your eyes or heart rate (which he could hear perfectly any time he neared you), he felt calm. Your hands traced his own bare ones, eventually holding them in your own. The entirety of the interaction was soft and intimate in a way Jungkook had never experienced.

"Can I see more?", you asked after a while, voice almost a whisper.

"What- what would you like to see?", he whispered back, gulping at how close to you he suddenly felt.

Once more, your hand silently went up to touch him, but this time it reached his chest, laying flat against it before slowly finding the opening in the middle, allowing you to peek at a sliver of his bare chest. Without hesitation, Jungkook grabbed onto your hands on his chest and helped you open his body suit a little more, just enough to reveal his chest.

Your hands softly traced at a few cuts and bruises found there, pouting to yourself as you stared at the firm muscle under your hands. Silence engulfed you for a few moments as he enjoyed your affections.

"Well, this seems kinda unfair," he started with a quiet voice, "You're getting me naked, feeling me up. Making me feel like a piece of meat," he joked.

You stifled a chuckle, "Don't think I didn't notice you looking at my boobs when I got here, you perv. I'm just getting my payback," your hands went back to his hands, taking them in your own.

He gaped at you from under his mask, "I- I would never!", he rasped out, "The fact that you would even accuse me of that- I- I am appalled, Y/N Y/L/N," he gave you an exaggerated gasp.

"Okay, whatever," you rolled your eyes, "Can I keep going now?", you asked as you went back to tracing his suit with your hands, this time reaching up to his neck.

You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as you stared up at him. He knew that all you could see was the comically large eyes featured on his mask, but he was still affected by the look on your face. Your mouth was agape and your eyes kept going down to where you knew his lips would be. Without being able to help himself, his hands wrapped around your waist, feeling the sliver of skin between your shorts and your tank top. In all your years of friendship, Jungkook had never been able to hold you like this. It was exhilarating.

There was no need for any words as your hands found his mask, lifting it up to uncover his lips and lay right below his nose. Jungkook knew he should've been more careful in letting anyone — even you — even make contact with his mask, but his eyes had been trained on your lips from the moment you got your hands on him. His mind was in another planet at the moment.

There was, again, no reaction from you that could've led Jungkook to believe you had recognized him. Was the shape of his lips not obvious enough? Were you too distracted to notice? It truly made no sense to him, but the proximity of your lips had him too distracted to think about it too much.

That was when the moment Jungkook had been waiting for for years finally came to fruition. Your lips made contact with his own, very tentative and shy in their movements. Mere seconds happened until he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss as he held you against him.

It was a bit awkward due to the obstacle the mask proved itself to be, but Jungkook didn't care. He was far too drunk in you to consider anything around him, specially when the kiss grew heated within moments. Pressing you up against the veranda, Jungkook let out all pent up need against tour mouth, hoping in the back of his mind that you wouldn't realize it was him you were kissing.

Sadly, it all ended before Jungkook could really lose himself in it. You pulled away with a giggle at the way his body insisted on following yours, attempting to trap you in another kiss. He couldn't help but chuckle back, still not letting go of you.

"Hmm, ever let any of your other fans go that far?", you hummed when he buried his face on the crook of your neck, pressing shy kisses on the bare skin.

"N-no, just you," he muttered, pulling back to readjust his suit, now covering himself back up.

"Boo," you complained once he was completely covered up again, crossing your arms petulantly, "What, time for you to go?"

"Sadly, yes. I'm a busy man, pretty. Need to get back out there to ensure pretty girls like you remain safe," he coo'd at you jokingly, pinching your nose adoringly before beginning to climb the veranda in order to leave.

"You know this isn't a one-time thing, right?", you called from below him.

"Oh, I'll make sure it's not, baby," he chuckled before saluting you as he jumped down, disappearing from your view almost immediately.

He arrived home soon after that, too giddy to even consider patrolling that night. The smile wouldn't leave his face, and his skin was covered in goosebumps. He felt like such a teenager at the excitement cruising through him, but the remnants of the feeling of your mouth on his simply wouldn't leave him.

He knew that sooner or later he'd have to tell you about who he was, but he wanted to enjoy your newfound relationship as much as he could. So far, you hadn't told him about your frequent encounters with Spiderman, which led him to believe you felt the same way. Clearly you wanted to keep him as your own little secret, which only made him the giddier about it all.

There were occasions in which Jungkook simply didn't plan things out to well. Today was one of those days.

Having no one aware of his identity proved to be more bothersome than he had first assumed. Sure, he could lie about his location to his friends and family with ease, keep any troubling encounters with criminals to himself, but it was the aftermath of these encounters that sometimes came to be too much for him to handle.

He had been reckless tonight, somehow miscalculating every single one of his moves when taking down a crew of armed robbers. He hadn't even meant to come across them nor fight them on his own (Tony Stark had warned him about this before), but it's not like he could've walked away without at least attempting to deal with the situation.

In the end, he was victorious, and his current state proved as much. It was not a simple fight, resulting in his suit getting mangled all over, with many of the injuries penetrating into his actual skin.

Battered and covered in bruises and scratches all over, Jungkook had no idea where to go. This was one of the first times in which Jungkook found himself limping and unknowing of how to patch himself up before the sun rose. His plan had been poor, which only reminded him what a stupid decision it was to try and handle the situation on his own rather than to leave it up to the police.

But his terrible planning skills did not stop there. They evolved into finding himself standing on the fire escape that led directly to your apartment. With his arms holding onto his sides to try and alleviate the pain, he reached out to knock on your window, hoping 2AM wasn't too late for you to come find him.

It was only moments when you showed up in your pajamas, a shocked yet worried look on your face as you opened up your fire escape entrance to him.

"Oh my God, what happened?", you asked whilst ushering him in, providing him with support so he could make it over to your room and lay on your bed.

"You should see the other guy," he rasped, coughing out.

"Stop! Fuck, how can I help you? What do you need?", you frantically went over to your restroom, returning with a makeshift first aid kit.

You sat next to him on the bed, helping him sit up so you could check out his injuries. His suit had multiple scratches that revealed slivers of his skin, but there was nothing you hadn't seen the previous time he had been over.

"It was just a robbery gone wrong. Nothing to worry about," he finally said, wincing when you began to open up his suit to better check his injuries. Your hands immediately went to try and take care of the cuts on his stomach, moving anything out of the way in order to reach them.

"You idiot," you muttered, "This is gonna hurt, okay? Just breathe deep," you warned before moving on to dab on his injuries with some ointment. Hissing at the burn, his stomach hardened, causing him to recoil a bit.

"Jungkook, be still," you hissed back at him, scoffing when he suddenly stilled at the mention of his name.

"W-what? What did you just say?",

You paid him no mind, still putting all your focus in his injuries, "Do you think I'm dumb, Jungkook? You show up to hang out with me and let me feel you up and you think I won't recognize you? You really are an idiot," you chuckled by the end.

"You- you knew?! This whole time?", he gaped at you, throwing off his mask as he groaned at the way you blatantly laughed at his shock, "God, you suck."

"C'mon, Jungkook. You're a horrible liar. And I'm your best friend, you can't hide anything from me."

"Whatever," he huffs, followed by a wince from your manhandling of his injuries, "You could've told me," he muttered petulantly.

You finally looked back at him, with a stern look in your eyes Jungkook only ever saw whenever you were about to tell him off, "Oh, like you told me? Dude, you were more than fine pretending not to know me," you jabbed at him, "Dickhead," you muttered once you were done.

It was his time to chuckle, jabbing at your leg with his own and smirking when you pushed back.

"So, is this you admitting you've wanted to fuck me all this years?"

You scoffed, "Me? I wanted to fuck Spiderman. Not my fault it turned out to be you," you argued as you wrapped some bandages on the cuts found alonh his torso, "You're the one who came after me cause you wanted to fuck me."

"Okay, fine," he relented, patting at the wraps you'd just secured on him, "What's the verdict now? Still want to fuck me?", he leaned in with a smirk, smirk growing even bigger at your playful scowl.

"Shut up and come here," you practically growled at him, pulling him to you by his shoulders and catching him in a kiss.

It was almost effortless the way in which Jungkook pushed you back on the bed, easily climbing on top of you as he kissed you. His hand was on your back as he lowered your body to lay flat on the bed, ignoring any injury he may have had. Everything left his mind as he kissed you — the burglary, the secret he thought he had been keeping from you, the relief you now knew; everything.

"Kook," you sighed when his lips reached the length of your neck, softly nibbling at your skin every so often.

"You're so bad," he murmured, "Lying to me this whole time ... Making me look like an idiot while I tried to keep my secret from you," he reprimanded with a love bite.

"You're the idiot who- oh," your complaint was interrupted by the sudden presence of his hands on your breasts, feeling at your nipples through the thin barrier of your tank top.

"Shh, baby. You may have had the upper hand all these years, but now I'm in charge," he shushed you, "Never looked my way, but kept tryna get in my pants as Spidey? Bad, bad girl," he murmured as his lips came closer and closer to your chest, eventually reaching your nipples and wrapping his mouth around the clothed skin, engulfing the cloth with his saliva as he abused your nipple with his teeth.

You writhed under him, both frustrated at the barrier and affected by the stimulation, "Hmm, and you're good at dealing with the bad guys, right, Kookie?", you murmured, already delirious with his touch.

In the meantime, his hands went up to your breasts, lifting up the shirt and smoothly managing to throw it off before his hands went right back to playing with your tits.

"Oh, yeah. Gonna take care of you, baby. Gonna fuck all the bad out of you," he sighed at the sight of your nude torso, hips unable to help themselves in beginning to grind against you.

He trapped you under him, using you for his own pleasure. However, if your moans were anything to go by, he had a great idea of his current effect on you. Holding you down, he kissed you up and down, going from your breasts to your lips all while his hips danced with your own. At some point his hands snuck down to help you pull off your shorts and panties low enough to give him access to you. By now, you were basically completely nude while he remained in his scratched up suit. Seemed unfair, but it worked for Jungkook.

With curious hands, he reached down to your bare cunt, beginning to finger his way to your clit. His thumb found it with a swiftness you could only expect from a man like Jungkook. Synchronizing his hand and hips, he ground down on you while thumbing at the puffy pearl between your legs.

"Right there, huh?", he murmured at your increasingly high-pitched sighs, "That's where you need it, huh, baby?"

Warm eyes stared down at yours, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he worked you all the way to your peak. Not a single part of him was occupied with anything but you — his lips tended to your own, his hand to your clit, his hips to your cunt, he was consumed by you whilst consuming you himself.

All his senses were heightened. His superhuman hearing allowed him to take in every noise of wetness coming south and every cry coming north. He could smell you perfectly, which only added to the delirious feeling you always provoked in him.

"I- Kookie, I'm gonna cum ... Keep going, I'm almost there, fuck," you cried as his movements sped up. Unbeknownst to you, he let out a sigh of relief at realizing your orgasm would come before his own. He was bursting inside his suit, almost ready to pounce you.

"Yeah? Cum for me, pretty. Need you to cum for me, okay? Promise I'll ... I'll fuck the bad out of you right after," he swore, lips finding their way to your ear as he whispered words of encouragement to you.

With a desperate nod, you continued to cry out his name, hands finding his bicep for support as you let yourself go. Jungkook took in every sound, every move, every single reaction coming from you. He memorized every bit of your orgasm and let himself be ruined by it.

Upon the crescendo of your orgasm, wet sounds filled up the room once more as his lips made their rightful way to yours once again. He sighed praise into your lips, calling you his good girl and his dream, claiming you to be the greatest reward he could ever receive.

"Thought I was bad, Kook? What happened to that?", you teased him, beginning to slowly rip off his suit in order to get him equally as nude as yourself.

"Baby, shut up. Just let me fuck you," he scolded, annoyed your words were interrupting his kisses.

"Hmm, do superheroes need condoms, or are you going in raw?", you asked so casually it made Jungkook's grip on you tighten involuntarily.

"Don't talk like that, fuck, I'll cum," he winced before backtracking with wide eyes, "Shit, wait. You'd let me do it raw?", he gaped at you, interrupting the kiss.

You laughed at him, giving him a single peck, "Course, Kook. Trust you more than anyone," you said, sharing the first moment of pure softness of the night.

Jungkook loved how easy it was for you to share friendly banter and bug at each other even under this context, but he couldn't lie when he said he adored those moments of unadulterated adoration you'd share any time you looked up at him while he was Spiderman. This was reminiscent of those moments, but so much better — especially being now aware that every single one of those looks had been directed at Jungkook, not Spiderman.

"Yeah?," he smiled at you, intertwining your fingers above your head, "Trust you too, beautiful," he let go of one of your hands to line himself up, groaning as he traced his tip up and down your folds before finally entering you.

"God, Kook," you sighed, arching your back at the feeling.

"I know, fuck," he matched your tone, burying his face in your neck while he gave you some time to get used to him, "Let me know when I can move, okay, baby? Feel so fucking good already."

You nodded wordlessly, using your free hand to dig your nails on the skin of his back. After about a minute you gave him the green light to move, dragging your nails down his back when he began to thrust, slowly building up his speed snd intensity.

"That feel good, pretty?", he murmured into your ear.

"Mhm!", you practically whined, attempting to move your hips to his rhythm, "D-don't stop."

Unburying himself from the crook of your neck, his hands went to your face to make you look into his eyes. He looked at you silently for a few moments with softness in his eyes, proceeding to locking your lips in a kiss as he continued to fuck into you. It was all very intense yet it carried an air of intimacy Jungkook knew he would never be able to replicate.

"Tell me you're almost there, shit. 'm gonna cum soon, pretty," he warned, thrusts accelerating in both speed and intensity.

"Yes! Almost there, just- keep going," you whined, hands reaching his hips to further encourage his movements. Wrapping your legs tighter around him, your body took control and did its best to follow his movements, making Jungkook's orgasm even more imminent.

"Think I can count you down?" he grumbled, eyebrows furrowed and demonstrating the amount of restraint in him at the moment.

"Yes, c-count me down," you nodded aggressively.

"Kay, pretty. Cum with me, yeah? In three," his hand went to toy at your clit once more, making you hiss in pleasure, "two ..." his hips readjusted to hit at that one spongey spot he'd been ramming at, but now harder, "one," he groaned the last word, almost falling limp against you as his movements stilled.

He could feel himself emptying inside you, kissing at your skin endlessly at how intimate the act felt. Meanwhile, you mewled nonstop under him, not helping his situation at all. He felt as if life halted for a moment, with everything aligning perfectly as he enjoyed both his and your orgasm.

"God ... Fuck, I can't believe it took us this long to do that," he sighed when it was all said and done.

You pushed at him, making him remove his weight off you and lay beside you, staring up at the ceiling just like you, "You're the dumbass who wouldn't tell me you liked me," you huffed.

"Well, if I'm that much of a dumbass, why did you never tell me you knew who I was- Which, by the way! How long have you known?", he was still fairly breathless, but entirely too curious.

You took a pause to laugh at him for a moment, only stopping when he gave you a menacing stare, "Since the first day you came to see me," you started, "You moved and talked just like Jungkook, and it made no sense for you to come see me out of all people," you revealed.

His body turned to its side, arm reaching out to make you cuddle against him, "Why didn't you say anything?", he pouted.

"I don't know," you shrugged, "Wanted you to tell me about your identity on your own. Not my fault you're too dumb," you murmured that last part."

"Okay, whatever. You're my Spidey girlfriend now anyway, so it doesn't matter anymore," he huffed.

"Oh? I don't recall anyone asking me to be their 'Spidey girlfriend,' do you?"

"Fine," he groaned, "Give me ten minutes and I'll give you a full-on confession of love, okay?"

"Can't wait," you laughed.

to read short 1.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, dry humping, teasing, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 212 (teaser); 1308 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"You're the vain of my existence, you know that, right?", you groaned at Jungkook's sudden presence on your fire escape.

"Is that how you talk to your boyfriend? I spend all day fighting evil and come back to nothing but disrespect," he complained jokingly, making his way into your room as if he owned the place.

"Boyfriend? Last I remember, I'm dating Spiderman, not Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook never asked me out," you trailed behind him, guiding him to take a seat in your couch.

"That joke's getting so old," he boo'd at you, "Plus, I literally have the suit on. Should I put on the mask? Is my face that ugly?" he continued his complaints, taking a seat on your couch and pulling you towards him, his inhuman strength managing to get you straddling him with minimal effort.

"No," you coo'd, "I like Jungkook's face just fine," your hands went to play with his hair, kissing at his cheek softly, "So, who were the bad guys today? Robbers? Bullies?"

"Nothing much today, just some guy stealing a bike and then a lost cat," he mumbled, "Still spent most of the day patrolling, though," he said as he buried his face in your chest, allowing you complete access to playing with his hair.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[buckets-and-trees]

"You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself."

👀👀👀

Well... as you know, this escalated quickly.

Title: Sacrificial Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Minotaur!Bucky x Botanist!Female!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: If it seems too good to be true, it always is. Always. Too bad you had to go to the remote jungles of South America to learn that lesson.

Content/Concept Warnings: DARK, lulled into a trap, human sacrifice, dubious consent/fuck or die, public sex/exhibitionism, size kink, monster fucking, face fucking/oral male receiving, vaginal fingering/fisting, breast worship, rough fucking, possessive/pet, praise kink, dirty talk, cum play, marking, cream pie, choking

Additional Notes: Thoty time with @rookthorne... she's only responsible for enabling me when my monster thirst reared its head. Wicked entry for @buckybarnesevents WEEK ONE of Hot Bucky Summer: "What Should I Wear?" and my third square of @buckybarnesbingo K1 "Fuck or Die."

When you told your friends, family, and former colleagues about the research grant and fellowship you had been awarded in the weeks leading up to your departure that it was too perfect, clearly somewhere deep in your bones you had known.

Eighty thousand dollars a year for three years, travel covered, visa approved, fully furnished accommodations provided, and a book deal for the discoveries and research studying flora in a largely undocumented and remote part of the jungle on another continent.

No scientist got a deal like that.

The only downside was the isolation of the location. They had electricity and running water, but you would only be able to go into town for internet every few weeks.

But the part of you that had grown up watching Indiana Jones, Jurassic Park, LOST, and the deep space missions of Star Trek who had far too many plants in your apartment and in your tiny office at the university had beat back that downside. It was only three years, and after living through the strange isolation of the pandemic, you knew you could manage this where you wouldn’t be isolated from people, just for short stints from your old life.

And though you had good pieces and good people in your life, you were desperate to get away from the suffocating societal expectations you felt like you weren’t living up to while so many others around you were – marriage, kids, white picket fences, career accomplishments, tenured professorships, promotions, raises, overnight influencers, travel vloggers.

This was something no one you knew had ever done.

Everyone raved about the adventure ahead of you.

Everyone had been impressed.

You had conquered in the accomplishments department with this for the year, no question. Your older sister with her third child on the way and your younger brother and his Premiere League football contract could wallow in your shadow.

This was a golden opportunity for a research botanist still in the early years of their career.

Kneeling on the ground in the middle of the jungle with your hands folded in your lap, head bowed, surrounded by a village of people who all should have known better than to follow ancient superstitions, with a dozen or more guns trained on you in nothing more than lingerie, you were living a nightmare.

All of it had been a baited trap.

No one would even question you falling off the grid before it was too late, and even if they did, these villagers could say one day you never came back from the jungle.

And it would be true.

One afternoon and evening, a good dinner, a sleep you’d yearned for thinking it was the jet lag, and then you’d awoken screaming as the first strip of wax had been ripped from your skin to discover you were naked with a half dozen people attending to all aspects of your grooming, preparing you to be their human sacrifice for the beast that lived in the jungle.

You were past the crying and pleading.

The no WIFI had been a lie, too.

Everyone in this small village looked and acted like they lived in the present day except for this one thing.

The belief that if they did not provide the beast his human sacrifice that they would not survive his terror.

“Then why don’t you just leave?” you had implored.

“This is our home, our loved ones are here, our ancestors are part of this place, and,” their leader and the head of the research foundation paused – almost faltered before continuing to explain, “the sacrifice of one stranger will guarantee us safety for many, many years.”

Everyone else had been instructed not to speak or listen to you from that point on in the preparations.

Nails trimmed, buffed, shined. Luxurious oil that smelled delicate and heavenly rubbed over every inch of your skin from the neck down. Hair partially braided to stay out of your face with the rest left natural. Color applied to your lips. They didn’t bother with eye makeup. No jewelry.

You had been wrapped up in a linen garment that was not quite a robe but not quite a coat to be transported to the ruins of an old stone dais in the thick of the jungle but deprived of it and then pushed onto the sacrificial area, left only in the sapphire silk of a bra and panties delicately lined with lace.

After hours being poked, prodded, and prepared by strangers in a strange land in a state of dread and disbelief, you thought you were numb.

You had endured too much to think you were hallucinating, but that you now all waited illuminated by literal torches with fire made this seem almost like a season of Survivor gone horribly wrong.

But then you heard the hushed wave of whispers at the rustle and rumble of something approaching through the thick vegetation of the jungle and adrenaline shot through your veins. It didn’t inspire fight or flight. You were frozen, fixated on the beast that would finally appear and seal your fate any moment now.

It made no attempt at arriving quietly, and when it finally appeared, there were collective gasps and cries from the people gathered to watch the sacrifice, though no sound fell from your lips.

The reaction was more than warranted, and a whisper of a thought flashed through your head that you were surprised no one had screamed. Maybe they were too terrified to scream, worried they would draw the beast’s attention. You wanted to scream, but your chest was gripped in fear.

The thick, furry legs of a bull, down to the cloven hooves, and a girthy tail with a tuft of dark hair at the end, swishing slightly as he walked. There was a loincloth tied at his waist that – rather than providing modesty – inspired anyone whose gaze lingered there to imagine the bulge nudging conspicuously beneath. Not that anyone’s gaze would linger there for long, for the rest of him was altogether imposing. Only the tallest of the villagers might hope to measure up to the base of his sternum – the sternum that anchored the torso of a man with shoulders more than twice the width of a human. Skin golden from the sun stretched over muscles that burst and rippled over his chest and shoulders, extending down his arms. You could see a litany of angry scars littered up and down his left arm.

Great bull’s horns rose and curled out of his head, possibly longer than your own arms. He had a mane of long, glossy but mostly unruly brown hair, with a couple of braids, that fell past his shoulders. Though the rest of his physique inspired fear, the true terror was perhaps the face of this man beast – it was terrifyingly handsome. Strong jaw, stubbled beard, a crease between his brows, and piercing blue eyes. His expression was drawn into an ominous grin.

He was in no rush as he walked into the ring of the villagers.

“Weapons down,” he growled.

There was almost no hesitation – their purpose had been to keep you in place anyway. Though the fear in the air was palpable, the tone of it seemed to be turning to some sort of reverent fear now for everyone else.

What inspired this unquestioned obedience from an entire people? People you’d seen with smart phones as abundantly among them as any other place on earth, though you’d been advised to shut yours down and leave it behind since it would be of next to no use to you in the jungle. They were right – but had left out the true reason and made it even more believable for you to seem only cut off to those back home, not lost and gone forever.

His enormous legs took the step easily up onto the dais, and his eyes were now fixed only on you. He stopped at the foot of the altar where you were presented for him.

“Well done,” this was meant for the people and their leader.

Then he reached out and the fingers of his large hands traced the strap over your left shoulder, then along your jaw, tilting your chin to look straight up at him. “And your choice is set?”

“My – my choice?” your voice cracked, but you felt it was a miracle you even found it.

Your confusion must have been evident, as his eyes flashed with anger and her rounded on the man who had facilitated all of this. “You did not tell her anything, did you?”

“I thought it best if –“

“It is not your job to think. The thoughtlessness of your people is why we’re here at all,” he snarled. Then he turned back to you.

“No time for stories now. I’m a minotaur called Bucky; a lost soldier cursed long ago to this state. Suffice it to say II must be satiated or the village will be subjected to bloodshed and desolation in the face of my wrath. They’ve chosen you, but you can choose your fate: fuck or die. I’ll take your throat, or I’ll cut it and drink your blood in front of everyone.”

Your chest heaved in trepidation. “How is that a choice?”

“Is it not clear to you?”

“Have others chosen death?”

He nodded. “Or they refused to choose.”

You opened your mouth then closed it again.

“Do you wish to die?”

You thought your tears were spent, but you could feel them welling in your eyes. “No.”

“Then claim your choice.”

You took a shaky breath.

“Say it!” he barked.

You flinched, but managed to spit out, “Fuck.”

“Perfect. Open up.”

“In front of everyone?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “They will remember and mark this sacrifice. It will be the reason they continue to breathe.”

You spread your knees a part so you were still kneeling and sitting back on your heels but his to take like this.

“That’s nice but not what I meant.” He tugged his loincloth and dropped it to the ground. You whimpered, afraid of the enormous size of his cock and ashamed at the lick of heat that flared in your core at the sight of him. He leaned down closer, put a hand at the back of your neck, and slapped the side of your face with his rigid length. “You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself.”

This drew a handful of muted gasps from the onlookers. You saw a spark of something new in his eyes at this reaction.

He was pleased at their reaction.

You dropped your mouth open for him, nervous knowing you could not take all of him, embarrassed to be on such display in front of these strangers, but wanting to please him.

Wait, you thought, wanting to please him?

He shoved his cock into your wet mouth, shoving any other thoughts immediately out.

“Suck.”

You did.

“Just like that,” he said. The hand on your neck moved up to cradle and command the back of your head. He slowly began to fuck your mouth but with only a small motion, encouraging you to continue sucking just that first bit of cock as it was in your mouth. He still was in no rush. It felt like a power play – not wanting to show impatience or lack of restraint in the onset of this sacrificial claiming.

As he continued to speak now, his voice was low, intended for you. “Get ready for more.”

You looked up at him and tried to nod your head ever so slightly. He smirked, then he brought his other hand up under your jaw and to your throat, wanting to feel himself using you. He groaned and briefly closed his eyes. His tip hit the back of your mouth, and you spluttered. He pulled out slightly, giving you half a moment to recover, then forced the point again, holding himself there while you adjusted. He opened his eyes again, locking back onto yours, and a thrill of terror shot through you again. That was only the preliminary.

Now he would truly begin.

That look was all you got. Keeping the one hand at your throat, the provided the anchor to begin truly fucking your throat, not in a rush, but he picked up the pace. You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself. Your muscles initially gagged in protest, but he persisted, stroking your throat with his fingers as well, coaxing you to relax. Tears spilled down your cheeks. You concentrated on breathing through your nose and the steady gaze he kept trained on you. Soon you were taking more of him than you thought you could. He quickened his thrusts into your mouth. Your fingers stretched into the fur on his hips, mewling as he continued to use your mouth.

A few short grunts with the last thrusts were the only hint before he came, shooting his hot spend in your mouth with an unrestrained howl that shook the crowd to their core. There was no way for you to swallow everything, but, if anything, seeing his cum spilling down your chin made him grin.

Then he raised his head to address the villagers. “Remember that you gave this human to me. I will do with her as I please, and you will never see her again. Hope that you never see me again in your lifetime,” his voice carried, his power unquestioned in the clearing. “If you are lucky, the children you left home today will not see me in their lifetimes either. All of you go now. What happens next is not for your eyes.”

They followed his instructions without hesitation, all of them eager to be gone from this cursed place and their collective and ignored shame.

They left the torches – no desire for a souvenir.

And now you were alone with him, the light of the flames flickering over every inch of your exposed skin – which was almost all your skin, the lingerie only for show.

With the hand that was still anchored at the back of your head, he roughly angled you up sharply to look directly up at him, and tipping his own head forward he loomed in all his height above you, a truly searing heat in this look. “I meant what I said: you are mine, and I will never allow those vile villagers to see you again. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

He stooped down to claim your mouth in a kiss. His large thumb brushed the remaining spend from your chin and then moved down your throat to brush it over your collar bone, rubbing it in. He pushed his tongue between your lips, and you opened your mouth for him again. His tongue was too big for your mouth, too, but the more he subjected your body to the largeness of his being, the more you seemed to seep into him. He used his tongue to wrap around and tangle with yours, stroking it with his, now and then slipping it further down your throat, teasing, choking, mimicking the actions of his cock not long before.

When you were truly gasping, he chuckled darkly and pulled away, you leaned forward, lips chasing his, and then you shook your head, trying to restore some logic.

Failing.

Bucky easily tore away your bra with his brute strength. “Lay back for me, lamb.”

You shifted, legs aching from resting on them in that kneeling position for far too long. He noted the care you took in moving your limbs and rubbed the muscles up and down a few times. Then he pulled your hips to the end of the alter, flush against his cock, which was already semi-hard again. You hummed as he pushed against your still-clothed core.

His hands moved from your thighs up your sides, stoking the desire surging through your body, moving up your waist, thumbs brushing up against the underswell of your breasts, then flicking over the nipples, bringing them to little peaks before diving down to lave one of them with his tongue and suck, rolling, twisting, and pinching the other with his hand. Then he moved his mouth, and as he latched on to the other nipple, his hands worked the lace and silk panties off your hips and down your legs before tossing them away. He rutted up against you again, slow but persistent pressure against your core again, but now with no barrier he felt your arousal slicking up your entrance. When you began working your hips against him, seeking more friction, fisting your hands into his hair, he moved a hand between your legs, stroking over your labia and pushing one of his fingers right into your cunt, making you keen immediately from the force and fullness.

“Going to ruin you, lamb, but don’t want to hurt you.” He was brutal, but only because he was a monster by nature, not because he was heartless. “Gotta work your tiny pussy open so you can take me like you were meant to.”

As before, he was patient, making up for the impatience mounting inside you as he worked his fingers into you, circling, questing, stretching, twisting. When he pushed three fingers in he could tell it was a lot, but he knew he needed you to easily receive four if he was going to get to fuck you on his cock the way he wanted. All through it, he was relentless in overwhelming you in other ways, continuing to worship your breasts, but also murmuring praises against your skin, and threatening and promising filthy things that you couldn’t even respond to.

When you were thoroughly primed, aching for him, a mess with tears and begging for him, he finally realigned his hips between your legs, forcing your thighs wide to accommodate him. He bumped the head of his cock against your throbbing clit a couple of times, making your whimper repeatedly. You were lost as you lay splayed out above him, eyes tightly shut, hands reaching for him, desperately pleading his name over and over. He bent down to you again, relishing the feel of your breasts brushing against his chest for one more moment before sinking his cock into your cunt with a brutal thrust, pushing clear to the hilt, making you scream. It was wicked, and he knew it, but also knew how much he had worked up your body and your mind, and he was rewarded as you arched beneath him, and wrapped your arms around his neck, adjusted your hips, and then rocked against him, clearly seeking more.

Holding you at the precipice of pleasure for so long meant you crashed into your first orgasm very quickly as he pushed his cock in and out of your, “tight heat, little lamb, taking me so well,” he cooed. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, shuddering as he fucked your through it, groaning at the feel of your walls around him. “No one else will ever have this cunt now,” he vowed. “You’re mine.”

“Mine,” you echoed without thinking, not knowing it was exactly how he wanted his pet to feel about him. He pushed you over the edge into another orgasm and then spilled his hot seed inside you not long after. You were beyond spent, at that point, and less than a minute after he scooped you up, tucking your legs around his waist, you dropped out of consciousness, and went totally limp. He kissed the top of your head, then shifted you to sling you over his shoulder for the trek to his lair – your home. He’d secure you there, then go back to the get the wooden crate of the belongings you had shipped ahead of you and the bag you had traveled with – both were supposed to be deposited and waiting in a cave, the final part of his negotiations for acquiring his new human from that village and their foolish leader. Humans were delicate creatures with peculiar needs, after all, and he was determined to keep you content and fucked out until you were devoted to staying with him until the end of your days.

But the last hour had exceeded even his own expectations. He suspected he wouldn’t have to try very hard to keep his little lamb.

NEXT PART: Do You Remember

"haunting thoughts" on Sacrificial for the Dark Forest Fest

brief insight into what reader's life is like now

physical appearance of Minotaur!Bucky

easy and challenging parts of writing the fic

the writing of the story from concept to completion in one night

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[gunsandspaceships]

Recruiting Peter in Civil War: a War Crime?

Today we are going to review this statement:

Tony “blackmailed a teenager to help fight his battles for him (Civil War) (which for the record, constitutes as a fucking war crime)”.

Part 1. Not a war crime: check my post about war crimes here. War crime is a crime committed during a war, by a party of the conflict.

MCU's “Civil War” was not a war. It was a conflict between a few people, that included one fight and a chase. The fight at the end of the movie between Tony and Steve with Bucky was not a part of this particular conflict, but a conflict on its own. From the government’s side, this situation was a law enforcement operation to capture a group of fugitives, where Tony’s side represented the law enforcement group under U.N. authority, not a nation’s armed forces.

The definition of Armed Forces: “the combined military, naval, and air forces of a nation”.

Source

In comics (Earth 616) it was indeed a war, but not in the MCU. That’s first.

Second, “Under the Statute of the International Criminal Court, conscripting or enlisting children into armed forces or groups constitutes a war crime in both international and non-international armed conflicts (ICC Statute, Article 8(2)(b)(xxvi) and (e)(vii)).”

Tony did not enlist Peter in the armed forces or the Avengers.

And third, “The bans on recruitment of children below the age of 15 enshrined in Article 77 of  Additional Protocol I, and in Article 4 of Additional Protocol II are also considered to prohibit accepting voluntary enlistment (P I, Art. 77 (2); P II, Art. 4(3)(c)).”

“2. The Parties to the conflict shall take all feasible measures in order that children who have not attained the age of fifteen years do not take a direct part in hostilities and, in particular, they shall refrain from recruiting them into their armed forces. In recruiting among those persons who have attained the age of fifteen years but who have not attained the age of eighteen years, the Parties to the conflict shall endeavour to give priority to those who are oldest.” (Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, Art. 77 (2)).

Here we got to an actual error from the SMFFH filmmakers’ side. Before SMFFH Peter’s age at the time of Civil War was planned to be 15 (see directors’ and screenwriters’ commentaries). In SMFFH Peter’s birthday was set to Aug 10, 2001, making him 14 years old at the time of Civil War. We cannot use random date placements made by SMFFH creators to define serious stuff, and also use another movie’s filmmakers’ decisions that were made after Civil War. So we must go with the fact that at the time of Civil War Peter was 15 years old, as was stated by the creators of CA:CW.

Conclusion: Peter was 15 years old, and if he were recruited to participate in a war, it would not be a war crime. But, he also was not enlisted in the armed forces. And Civil War was not an actual war, but a law enforcement operation under UN jurisdiction. So, yes, Tony is not a war criminal. Again. Very disappointing.

If you guys have any other ideas of how to accuse him of war crimes – go ahead. I’ll check them all.

[chaoticsoulsword]

*sigh*

Let's do this again.

The most harmful and irreparable damage the MCU has ever done is definitely Wanda's characterization and how the "fandom" perceives her even when non-cb readers migrate to the 616 side.

(This is screenshot depicting a fan reacting to Russell Dauterman's redesign of Lore, an evil Wanda variant who first debuted in 1993 in Scarlet Witch #1. She will return in the new Scarlet Witch series this year)

In addition to all the "she's always been white" constant, toxic and racist comments, which only reinforces their lack of ability to recognize issues such as colorism, Rromani representation (when they actually know the difference between Rromani and Romanian, that is) and straight-up whitewashing, they also fail to identify a most essential trait of her entire characterization: her desire to do good and become a symbol of heroism.

Wanda despises doing harm to others. Her first iteration is legitimately a depiction in which she and Pietro are being forced by Magneto to work for him and his brotherhood of evil mutants, all thanks to emotional manipulation. She never means to hurt the original X-Men except when Pietro is hurt and/or in danger. It's her protective side, not her "evil" side.

(Uncanny X-Men v1 #4; #11)

It's also fundamental to be aware that Wanda and Pietro come from a place where there's trauma for being abused by Magneto when it comes to their powers. This is why they are hesitant to join the Avengers, and yet their sense of responsibility is stronger.

(Avengers v1 #16)

Now, when it comes to Chthon, it's another rabbit hole of struggling with independence, power and agency. Being controlled by an evil force is as an old trope as any other in comic books. Still, I can't help but notice that her relationship with Chthon is never truly solved as other magic characters' issues, so why does it stick to Wanda the hardest?

Allow me illustrate with other examples:

1. Magik and the Darkchylde.

For those who don't know, the Darkchylde is "an evil side" of Illyana Rasputin, result of her captor and abuser's tampering with her soul.

The Darkchylde has several interpretations, from abuse to struggling with self-worth, and it has been established for decades as a side of Illyana that she despises, fears and suppresses.

(New Mutants v1 #71)

Illyana took years to make peace with her inner self and even had an arc to leave her reigning place of power in Limbo to Madelyne, another character who was villanized by the narrative for the very same reasons. Which begs the question.... why would a fan root for the Darkchylde to be her standard self when this is precisely what she hates the most? When it's precisely what causes her pain and leads her to a process of isolation and unhealthy behavior?

2. Doctor Strange and dark magic

Throughout sixty years of stories, there are a few moments in which the Sorcerer Supreme is faced with the old dilemma if he should use dark magic or not. And yet, from everything he went through, even in his darkest moments, he still chooses to do good. This is an intrinsic part of him. Yes, we've seen alternate evil iterations, but the main version is still a recognized, praised character for all the good deeds he performs on a daily basis.

(New Avengers v3 Annual #1)

3. Loki against fate

(Immortal Thor #2)

Loki's most recent and important journey throughout the years is precisely changing their fate, from the god of mischief and lies to the god of stories. They know they also have antagonistic roles to play as such, and yet they look forward to building a better relationship with Thor and the Asgardians. They're as complex as they come, but never back to their first and oldest iteration.

--

There are others, of course, like Nico Minoru and the Staff of One, Daimon Hellstrom and his will to deny his father's desires etc etc. I can even point a famous non-magical one: THE HULK. Yep, the guy who has spent his entire existence struggling with said dichotomy.

So you see, this is not a situation where "women can't be villains, god forbid women do anything" like some of them love to claim. You have Amora, Morgan Le Fey, Umar, even Lore now. The fact is, the MCU pushed the main version of its Wanda to be an irremediable character. Fans may or not defend her actions, but the truth is, they went too far for a role of opposition/antagonism justified by mental issues, which is yet another problematic, hellish rabbit role that we discussed so many times, over and over and over.

House of M is by itself such a harmful event in Wanda's entire characterization that, even now in the 616 universe, she still struggles to be (re)accepted by the hero community. She's still demonized by mutants, she's still depicted as mentally unstable.

(X-Men #7 - 2019)

Meanwhile, few writers are doing their hardest to give her some independence and agency (praised be Orlando and McKay). She has finally showcased her resolve to deal with Chthon by absorbing the Darkhold. She finally built a place to help people in a small community. She's an avenger yet again.

(Darkhold: Omega #1)

However, despite all that, she's still being patronized and lectured on (for instance, Agatha trying to take the Darkhold from her).

(Scarlet Witch v3 Annual #1)

The fact that she hasn't given up on the role of super hero only showcases how fundamental, intrinsic, unshakeable is her desire to do good. The fact that she's a nexus being and that the Scarlet Witch is a role passed down through generations are enough reasons to reiterate how important she is as a defender of the universe, same importance we often see in the role of the Sorcerer Supreme.

No fan has ever advocated for readers to be feared by a Sorcerer Supreme. Those are roles of heroes.

So yeah, "evil mother" and "serving cunt" will not do it for me. Because being evil means embracing everything Wanda hates the most and fights the hardest. So you come here and tell me that Wanda was supposed to be evil incarnate, to the point of comparing her to Voldemort, is plainly offensive and shows how little you understand her. You have other mothers to kneel to if you so desperately need one. Wanda is not one of them. Leave her alone.

TL;DR: Saying Wanda should be evil is stupid and harmful.

[jenoutof10]

🐔🐔 rise and shine sae smoochers

sae lovers i have come to offer black widow! sae

(another addition to jen n timmy's mcu x bllk brain baby 🐔)

[4stormfly]

Why Chester and Norris are probably more than just Jon and Martin’s voices

The ramblings of a madman who really wants his silly little guys back

Spoilers for up to tmagp episode 4

First of all, just because tmagp can be enjoyed without listening to tma, that doesn’t mean none of the characters from tma will come back. All sequels are designed to be enjoyable on their own, it would be bad writing otherwise. You never know where a new listener/viewer/reader will start, so everything needs to be able to be enjoyed by itself so that they continue to consume your content, but that doesn’t stop writers from including characters from the original work. Just look at Marvel movies. You don’t need to have watched every single movie that came before to enjoy Infinity War (I hadn’t, and I still loved Infinity War), but it’s still able to reference things from those previous movies without explaining the entire MCU at the time. Characters can come back from tma and tmagp can still be enjoyable for new listeners. These two things aren’t mutually exclusive.

One of the major theories is that the fears are just using their voices from the tapes. This doesn’t explain Augustus’ voice, though. His voice isn’t anywhere on the tma tapes, unless you want to say he’s a recast for Leitner, which doesn’t really make sense for any other reason than they sound similar. It’s much more likely that Augustus is og Jonah, since he was the only one in the panopticon with Jon and Martin (plus there’s no implication that Elias’s body in the rubble in MAG200, so Jonah could have been sent wherever Jon and Martin went).

As pointed out very often, even though we only have four cases read out by the text to speech voices, they all line up pretty well with the characters they would be. Chester reads the case about the dangers of the Magnus Institute, serving as a warning for what’s to come. Norris reads the cases about love and how easily it is to lose yourself to these fears. Finally, Augustus reads the case from the 18th century about a selfish man willing to use the fears to harm other people in order to get what he wants.

Another thing I don’t see mentioned a lot is the censorship around who Jonny, Alex, and Tim Fearon are playing. When the official cast was revealed, the characters they were playing were censored. On top of that, at the end of each episode, when listing the cast members and who they play, Jonny, Alex, and Tim Fearon are always listed as “additional voices” rather than as Chester/Norris/Augustus. It just seems like a weird thing to do if they end up being just text to speech programs.

Finally, the first case with “some of” Arthur coming back and Jonny’s statement on it about being careful for what you wish to come back because it’ll come back wrong just parallel the situation too well. It could be a coincidence, but it could also be some great foreshadowing.

[stormiclown]

What I truly love most about the DC universe is how stupidly large it is. There are so many different Earths and timelines that you can merge it with another pic of media, and you can justify it by saying it's an entirely different timeline. The DCU is so diverse and wide that its compatible with literally everything.

The MCU? Bruce and Tony know each other due to being billionaire playboys with genius intellect and using their skills to become formidable heroes. Thor and Diana know each other, the League of Assassins is aware of Hydra and the Red Room, etc.

Miraculous Ladybug? Diana and Queen Hyppolita (a former ladybug) know all about the Miraculous and Marinette goes to the Justice League for assistance with Hawkmoth. Given the people they've been up against before, Hawkmoth would fit right in. The addition of the miraculous would be very natural to the DCU.

Danny Phantom? A teenaged boy with ghost powers from another realm ends up in Gotham and starts trolling people is something that would definitely happen in Gotham at some point. It was only a matter of time.

I swear the next DCU & Batman crossover fandom is going to be Avatar the Last Airbender or something. With the Justice League adopting these gremlin children. Bruce "I adopt strays every other week" Wayne would see Katara, Aang, Toph, Zuko, Sokka, and Suki and go "Mine." Sokka cracking jokes with Dick, Zuko and Damian getting on each other's nerves, Katara and Alfred bonding over how they have to keep feral children in check, Toph and Jason trying to declare dominance over each other every other second. Aang going around Gotham and following Bruce while he does Batman things, and surprisingly getting along great with Damian over their love for animals (Damian refuses to admit he got excited when Aang allowed him to ride Appa). The spirits in the atla world won't be so far off base in a world where there are aliens, demons, and demigods walking the earth.

Gothamite criminals everywhere would be getting their asses kicked. Soon Gotham has six more vigilantes, four of which have terrifying elemental abilities and the other two can throw hands. Blue Spirit Zuko throwing hands, Painted Lady Katara thrashing people with water and healing innocents, Blind Bandit Toph crushing people into the dirt, Kyoshi Warrior Suki striking fear in the hearts of hundreds, Boomerang Sokka coming up with these crazy but effective plans that give Batman a whiplash, Avatar Aang greasing anyone who hurts his friends.

And the rest of the Justice League are terrified.

Actually you know what?

alta x dc anyone?

[mxmajor]

Cool things i learned abt the Dora Milaje from the dora milaje training manual

this is canon to the 616 and comics, not the MCU, but it was cool to learn about and definitely impacts my canon compliant AU fic. So it might be useful to others. Its not the full book, not even a chapters worth of info, but if you were considering getting it, do so. It made me look at wakanda forever differently, too.

Joining

they accept women from all 5 tribes (17 in the comics) between the ages of 15-20 to become Dora

They have to bring a gift and be accepted by Bast to begin training

If accepted they are called Kanwata and the process takes 4 years to complete.

Upon initiation they go through an ori ceremony where their heads are shaved and they received their first ritual tattoo. They receive another tattoo each year, an ink with vibranium, until the second and final ori ceremony where they receive the final tattoo after their acceptance from Bast.

Training

They have to learn 7 of 10 languages: Wakandan, Xhosa, Hausa, Arabic, Yoruba, English, Igbo, Mandarin, Swahili, and Korean. They have 9 additional elective languages they can learn, especially to connect to the diaspora and blend in: cantonese, Hebrew, Japanese, French, Farsi, Spanish, Amharic, and Portuguese. They get to conversation and translation in the following years.

In the first year they must learn hand to hand combat in the forms of Ngolo, Laamb, Silat, Muay Thai, Musangwe, and Krav Maga. Once the required mastery has been met they add weapons in the second year. The Dora are considered "living weapons".

In the comic verse, they have a mystical and supernatural combat section. The kanwata training is in 3 pillars: physical, mental, and spiritual/herbal. They study vibranium application and properties as well as herbal practices like identifying plants for food and medicinal purposes.

Essentially, Dora are super smart and well trained so it takes a unique situation for them to be unprepared lol. There is even more that goes into what was listed above.

Structure

The DM have 3 major units: Guard Units, Airborne Units, and Support Staff Units. This includes Domestic, international, and Off world teams in the comics.

Dora can be broken into units, squads, or teams (helpful when trying to name group that they might be on a mission in)

They are all trained in combat and munitions (weapons) but some units are researchers, mechanics, pilots, healers, or apart of a secret division (like the cia) but no one knows who is in that secret division

Kanwata are the trainees, the 3rd and 4th years apprentice with Iya Dora and/or train younger Kanwata.

Ile Dora Milaje is what the group of active, graduated, and fully initiated Dora are called.

Iya Dora is the council that confers with wakandan leadership (Taifa Ngao, the council of elders), determines the graduation passage of kanwata, and governs the active duty, dismissal or removal from Dora ranks. There are Dora that have been re-instated after dismissal.

There are some cool excerpts if you clicked the link below. I am tired of typing lol.

[jeonstellate]

timestamp: stark

it’s 11:33 am when you make chan an offer he can’t refuse.

๑彡 bang chan x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 slice of life!au, stranger!au — little fluff(?)

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.9K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 oh? what’s this? a kpop-related post after two months? unbelievable. (in all seriousness, i’ll try to get back to this side as soon as i get my muse back here o7 for now, please enjoy!)

๑彡 if there are any stay-mcu/iron man enthusiasts out there, this one’s for y’all *insert dancing emoji*

You were having the time of your life.

It was not your first time visiting Disney California Adventure nor Disneyland, but the excitement you felt was still as intense as the first time. Perhaps it was because there were huge gaps between your visits. Or because there was really just something in the Disney air that never failed to make you giddy.

Whatever the case was, you always looked forward to your Disney trips. And this was no different.

Since your visits were far apart, there was always something new in the parks whenever you visit again. Regardless of your attachment to the media that inspired the new attractions, you were always excited to explore the new additions.

For this visit in particular, you were extra hyped. Not only was there a new land of attractions, the area in question was also inspired by a media that you were very familiar with.

Avengers Campus.

You wouldn’t call yourself a Marvel fan — nor a Marvel Cinematic Universe fanatic. If anything, you were just someone who watched enough of their releases to develop attachments to their characters.

Most people head straight to Radiator Springs Racers once the rope dropped. But you? You were dead-set on spending your early hours exploring Avengers Campus. So you did.

Two rides in, your feet brought you back in front of the Avengers Headquarters.

And there, right in front of the Avengers’ logo on the wall, was Iron Man — taking photos with visitors.

Frankly, you had no plans on paying Disney photographers to take your photos. For one, you didn’t research how much their services were. Second, you figured you would succumb to capitalism in other ways (read: churros and Dole whip), so it’d be best if you’d only spend your money there.

Yet, still, you found yourself lining up to take photos with Iron Man.

The line wasn’t terribly long, but you knew it’d be a thirty-minute wait at least. After all, it wasn’t just a photo-op — it was also a quick meet-and-greet. Thankfully, you were in no rush, so you didn’t mind the wait.

You let your mind wander to pass time. You observed different people interact with Iron Man as their turn came and passed. You scrolled through your phone, switching applications mindlessly.

Amidst your thoughts about which continuity Disneyland’s Iron Man existed in, you caught the cast member beside you talking to another guest. "—Mr. Stark has a meeting to attend to soon, but he’d be back after."

It didn’t take you that long to piece what that in-character response must’ve meant, especially if the other guest walked away upon hearing them.

"Excuse me," you turned the cast member’s attention toward you, "can you hold my place for a second?" As an afterthought, you quickly added: "I’ll be back. I promise."

You jogged after the other guest before you could change your mind.

Really, there was absolutely no need for you to do this. As you heard the cast member say, there would be other opportunities to meet Iron Man throughout the day.

Yet, somehow, you felt strongly compelled to. Like you were supposed to.

"Excuse me," you called your fellow guest’s attention. You flashed him a small smile, "Hi."

"Hello," he greeted back after halting to hear you out. He reciprocated your gesture with one that almost blinded you, "Can I help you?"

"Are you still interested in taking a picture with Iron Man?"

"I am," he affirmed.

"Do you wanna take it with me?" You blurted out your objective for coming to him, before he could say anything else. "I mean," you backtracked as soon as you processed how strange you must’ve sounded, "I saw some people take group photos and then solo ones; so you’re up for it, we can split the cost or something."

Frankly, you didn’t exactly thought this whole thing through. You were operating on impulse. You were going with the flow — even if you weren’t exactly sure where it was leading you to.

"That’s actually not a bad idea." You didn’t even know where that proposition came from. It just spilled out your mouth without going through your brain first. Nevertheless, it seemed to have done its job. "I’d actually take you up on that, if you don’t mind."

You smiled wider, "Great!" You turned back and started leading him to where you came. "I’m [first name], by the way."

"Nice to meet you, [first name]. I’m Chan."

You and Chan waited out the rest of the line chatting. You conversed about the most trivial things — from the other attractions you were planning on visiting to your theories on how Disneyland’s Iron Man’s voice actually sounded similar to Robert Downey, Jr.’s. You even talked about how you spent the earlier part of the morning. And what you thought of what Marvel did to their cinematic characters.

By the end, when everything had been said and done, you and Chan parted ways with a way to keep in touch and a picture of each other saved in your respective camera rolls.

Albeit you were initially reluctant to succumb to another bait of capitalism, you didn’t mind the price you paid for the set of photos that included a cute candid of you and Chan with Iron Man.

(Years later, when your fates have entwined more permanently, you saw that same picture framed in Chan’s apartment. “It’s my favorite,” he told you after claiming your waist in a back hug.)

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

The Descend

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56214715 by aggayppang "What have you done to Peter? What did you do to my boy?!" No person in the room, not even the strongest Avenger nor the impassive SHIELD agents, was able to calm the rage of May Parker. Tony stood shocked of her continuing words, slowly feeling dread crawl up his spine. What have they done? or; if only Tony told May of what truly happened. I DO NOT OWN ANY MCU CHARACTER HERE EXCEPT FOR THE ORIGINAL ONES. This is also inspired by another fic. Words: 2302, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Categories: Other Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Avengers Team Members (Marvel), Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, Vision (Marvel), Nick Fury, Original SHIELD Agents, Happy Hogan, Sam Wilson (Marvel), mentioned Skip Westcott - Character, Helen Cho (Marvel), Original Characters, Maria Hill Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Aunt May Parker & Peter Parker, Avengers Team & Peter Parker, mentioned Peter Parker & Skip Westcott Additional Tags: Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Tony Stark, Protective Aunt May Parker (Marvel), BAMF Aunt May Parker (Marvel), May Parker is mad MAD, Parent Tony Stark, Good Parent Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Protective Avengers, Everyone is protective of peter, Protective Nick Fury, but was it enough?, i love peter parker pls dont come for me, he's my baby and whoever hurts him will face my wrath, prolly tony's and may's too, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, author is drunk from drinking a liter of coffee, this is an intrusive thought, Author Is Sleep Deprived, The Author Regrets Nothing, why did i write this? coz i wanna share the pain, Inspired by Fanfiction, Medical Inaccuracies, Legal Inaccuracies, author doesn't know what she'd been typing the whole time, skip could chew on glass i hate him read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/56214715

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 6: The Hathor Effect

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake (she's the real MVP)

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary:

You and Steven spend even more time together. Steven takes you somewhere special.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu, talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded.

Word Count: 4.2k

Now that you’d both had a taste, it was all the two of you could think about. On the nights you were alone, you were thinking about Steven, which was no different than before, but now you had a reference for comparison. Now, you knew what his finger felt like gliding along your walls, you knew what his lips tasted like when he was in the throes of passion. Your own hands couldn’t compare to the way his felt, trailing all over your body like it belonged to him, mapping it to memory.

On the nights that Steven was alone, he was gripping his cock in hand and chasing his own release. Constantly thinking about the way you swiped his cum from your inner thigh and brought it to your lips so innocently. He couldn’t believe you liked the taste. He thought about how small your hand was when you finally touched him, unable to wrap around his entire girth.

When it wasn’t night time though, and there was no one around, you found yourselves in a tight embrace. Mouths melting into one another, breathing heavily while grinding on each other against a wall in the hallway and quickly separating before someone caught you.

You were sneaking into his office in the evening for additional ‘tutoring’ sessions that ultimately led to you further exploring each other’s bodies. Steven loved to hear every little noise your mouth had to offer. His favorite sound so far was the one you made Thursday afternoon, the week following your first rendezvous, when you’d finished your classes and you were on his desk, legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you breathless.

“I want to try something, if you're up for it, love.” He said with his face buried in your neck.

“I’m not ready for-”

He pulled back and looked in your eyes. You’d come to love that hooded look of arousal he had on his face every time things got heated between you.

“Not that, somethin’ else.” He knelt down and tugged your pants to your ankles before tossing them aside.

He put a large hand on your chest to push you back to lay on the desk, and grabbed your hips to pull your soaking mound closer to his face.

“I’d like just a little taste, s’that alright?” He used the pad of his forefinger to rub in between your folds idly while he waited for your response, spreading your slick over your lips.

“Y-yeah.” You said breathlessly from above, “yeah, of course.”

He didn’t waste any time in pressing his lips to your cunt, flicking over your clit with his masterful tongue. That sound, that high pitched whine mixed with a gasping moan that left you grabbing the edge of the desk desperately, was the one he loved the most. He made you do that.

Steven reached up, placing his palm on your lower abdomen to keep you from sliding forward in your excitement and knocking him over. His other hand was pushing your thigh open to grant him access.

You squirmed under Steven’s mouth, never having felt anything like it. You always thought guys didn’t like doing this sort of thing, but you would’ve thought from the sounds he was making that Steven enjoyed this more than he enjoyed the vegan burrito he got all over his shirt last week. Pretty soon, you were grabbing onto his dark curls, pushing your hips upward into his mouth and throwing your head back.

He loved how into this you were. He wasn’t sure if by asking he would be pushing you too far, but there was nothing Steven wanted more than to make you feel good. While he continued his assault on your pussy, he freed his cock and started to work himself over. Listening to your noises alone felt so good, he was aching with need and had to do something about it.

“Steven that feels, ahh, never felt anything like it.” You whined into the room.

He hummed into your cunt, continuing to slurp your juices while his tongue swirled over your sensitive clit. Your body twitched in response as you kept your eyes tightly shut. Steven’s movements as he jerked became more frantic as he approached his orgasm. You were already there, at the edge for him.

“S-Steven, Steven I’m gonna…”

You clasped both of your hands over your mouth to keep yourself from alerting the entire school to your secret affair. Your cunt was contracting wildly, body convulsing on the desk while you experienced your euphoria. Steven was there, too, seconds from losing himself.

“Where do you want this, love? Hm? Your chest, your face, I can even-”

“My mouth, please.” 

In a swift movement, you were kneeling on the floor and Steven stood up, placing just the tip at your lips. He grabbed the side of your head and jerked himself into your open mouth. He shuddered and groaned, voice rough and wrecked while he coated your tongue in his spend. You felt accomplished as he sighed heavily and dropped down into the chair behind him, utterly spent. You gulped down every last bit with a hopeful smile on your face, feeling optimistic that he might be a little impressed with you.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He let out a sharp breath in relief. “You’re just full of surprises.”

“Thanks.” You couldn’t stop the stupid smile that dragged across your face.

“No darling,” he leaned forward, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, “thank you.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at his words. Steven was far too sweet. Your eyes trailed to the clock above the door and you gasped.

“Shit, I’m late for my next class.” You stood up, collected your pants and pulled them back over your legs.

“Here.” Steven handed you your bag. “Oh and…” He reached behind himself on the desk and handed you a small ticket for the art gallery exhibit that you were eyeing.

“Steven…” You said breathlessly, “you got me a ticket? You shouldn’t have.”

“I got two.” He held up another. “One f’you and one f’me.”

The look on your face made Steven’s heart melt. You were so happy, so excited. That’s all he ever wanted from you, was your smile and the way you were looking at him right now.

“You like it?” He asked, raising his brows in anticipation.

“Of course I do! Steven, you didn’t have to do that.” You moved closer to him and softly kissed his still smiling lips.

You looked back at the tickets…Saturday. You and Steven would be going on your first real date. The sad realization hit you though, that you weren’t going to be able to go to the gallery together, not on the off chance that someone from your school might show up and see you. The expression shift was all too obvious, and Steven felt his stomach drop at the sight of it.

“What’s wrong?” He asked immediately.

“We can’t go together.” Begrudgingly, you offered the ticket back to him. “If we’re seen together in public-”

He pushed your hand back, “we can’t be seen kissing or holding hands, ‘course not, but how would it be strange that your history professor and you happened to be at the gallery at the same time on the same night?”

Steven was crafty, if nothing else. He was right. As long as you kept the public displays to a minimum, no one would suspect a thing. No hand holding, no kissing, just no touching. How hard could it be?

When he dressed like that, black pressed pants, a dark blue shirt with a nice tie to match, and sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, you knew it was going to be nearly impossible to keep your hands to yourself. It looked like he even combed his usually unruly hair. Steven could say the same for you though. Where did you get that dress? He wondered, jaw slack open while he stared at you from the entrance of the art gallery. 

Breathtaking didn’t begin to describe what you looked like. Your makeup, not that you needed any, was done in such a way that complimented your already beautiful features. The dress you’d chosen to wear rested casually just above your knees and the neckline dropped down just enough to let a line of cleavage peek through. Steven couldn’t believe that someone that looked like you, would even have given someone like him the time of day.

“W-wow.” He gulped so hard you saw his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you tried to keep yourself from smiling embarrassingly wide. Steven held out his arm but then remembered that this wasn’t a normal date, despite the attire you both had chosen to wear.

“Oh, right, sorry.” He put his arm back down and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Erm, after you.”

He gestured toward the door, allowing you in front of him. He did reach out and grab the door before you had a chance to. You weren’t necessarily insistent on keeping with traditional norms, but you appreciated the thought nonetheless.

“Thanks.” You gave him a shy smile before making your way inside.

As far as awkward first dates go, this was up there. Sure enough, you recognized a couple of students from around campus. You weren’t in classes with them, so you weren’t sure if they knew who you were, but a few of them noticed Steven and said hi to him. It was like you were dancing, the way you two would move through the gallery together. He would stop to look at one display, and when he was done, he would move over to the next, and you would follow, the corner of your eye glued to his frame.

You tried to focus on the art, the real reason you were there, the reason you’d wanted to go to the gallery in the first place before Steven had become such a big part of your life. The pieces were beautiful, some done by local artists and others had been brought in from other states or imported. One work in particular caught your eye.

“Oh wow, look at you.” Steven said, seeming to look right at you.

You felt flush again. Did he forget that you were in a place where he couldn’t speak to you like that? When he walked closer you realized he wasn’t looking at you at all, he was looking at a painting just behind you. Though you were relieved that he wasn’t being so bold in public, you were somewhat baffled to think he wasn’t talking about you like that.

“Um, what is it?” You asked, trying to clear your mind from the brain fog that Steven tended to give you.

You looked at the painting he appeared to be enamored with. It appeared to be a stylized painting of some Egyptian goddess with hieroglyphs behind her. Steven was just smiling from ear to ear.

“That is Hathor, the Egyptian goddess of love, beauty and…” Steven looked over at you, “pleasure.”

You shook your head and kept your voice low, “stop.” You spoke playfully. 

He looked back at the painting, “she’s also the goddess of music. What kind of music do you like?”

“Um, I listen to pretty much anything.” You shrugged, “I’m not very picky. What about you?”

“I like instrumentals mostly, hard to read and listen to lyrics and all that.” He kept his eyes on the painting. “Something nice and acoustic is really just…it’s nice.”

This really was like a real date, just not as intimate. You learned that Steven actually did have a pet goldfish named Gus, and that he was a vegan. You shared some details about your life and preferences, too, and as the gallery became empty, you found yourselves talking more and more, and getting closer and closer until you were standing in front of the same painting you’d started at.

It had already been a couple of hours, but it only felt like minutes. You sighed and looked outside. The time you’d spent with Steven had been too short, you didn’t want it to be over so soon.

“I had a lovely time.” Steven softly spoke on your way outside.

You turned to look at him, “I did, too, thank you so much for-”

Time seemed to slow down as you tripped on the heels that you had no business wearing. You were going to fall, hit the concrete, probably break at least one bone and maybe get a concussion, but two arms stopped you. They grabbed you by your upper arms, pulling you in close to a warm chest. Steven’s brows were furrowed, eyes darker than you’d seen them before. He’d never looked at you that sharp, so watchful in his gaze. His jaw seemed set a little harder too, almost like he was clenching his teeth. Is…is his back straighter? You thought, also noticing that his chest seemed to be puffed a little more than usual.

He shook his head and his face relaxed, brows turned up in concern. His whole body seemed to take an exhale as well.

“Oh no, love…” He helped you get oriented, “what happened, are you alright?”

You realized how close you were standing to him, chest to chest, so you backed up quickly, not wanting anyone to see you together. You were still trying to catch your breath. You noticed your legs shaking a little from having nearly fallen down the short flight of concrete steps.

“I tripped on my heel and…” You chuckled, “you were so quick, thank you for catching me.”

Steven nodded. He realized he must’ve reacted out of pure instinct. He smirked, and looked you up and down affectionately. You were so beautiful, especially when you looked flustered, despite having nearly fallen. He watched you pull out your phone and realized he’d been so wrapped up in his own head that he didn’t realize you were talking.

“-call a cab.” He heard you say to him.

“I could drive you.” He blurted out without a second thought.

“Steven, I can’t just get in your car, what if someone sees?” You looked around, the street was fairly empty, save for a few people that you didn’t recognize.

“It’s dark, and if we’re quick, I’m sure no one will notice. I can drop you off at the coffee shop.” He suggested in a soft tone so no one would overhear.

You felt excited by the prospect of being alone with Steven again, so you all too eagerly nodded before, carefully, walking down the steps toward the only car left parked by the curb. Steven clicked the door open on his keys and you slid inside.

Steven knew he shouldn’t be letting you in his car, but he couldn’t help it. You’d clearly spent a lot of time getting dressed up, and he wanted to spend just a little more time with you before everything had to go back to normal. He still felt unsure how he managed to get a girl like you to even look at him. He was thirty-eight, a lot of the time a stuttering mess, and certainly not the best at picking up women, but somehow he’d managed to catch your interest.

What he didn’t know is that you were wondering the same on your side of the car. How did you catch the attention of someone like Steven? He was attractive, smart, and the most kind and caring person you’d ever met. Even then as he got in the car, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that he ever cared about. He looked like he was going to kiss you, but you shook your head.

“Not here.” You reminded him, catching the look.

The longer you lingered there, the more nervous you became until Steven started the car and began driving. You were hand in hand within seconds, and you found yourself idly rubbing his fingers with your thumb.

It was impossible to stop the growing desire between your legs. You and Steven hadn’t had time together, not alone anyway, since Thursday afternoon, and you wanted to feel his lips on yours again. You tried to be coy, to not seem too needy or desperate as you trailed your hand from his and landed it gently by his knee.

Steven’s breath caught in his throat at your sudden touch. He looked over at you wide-eyed, but your gaze remained out the window as though you were unaware of what you were doing. A smirk quirked at the side of his mouth, what a naughty little thing, he thought to himself. He didn’t push you to do more, he wanted to see where you took this on your own.

The journey from Steven’s knee to his inner thigh was a slow one. You moved one painstaking inch at a time. An unmistakable groan escaped his lips the closer you got to his cock.

“You really like to tease, don’t you love?”

You looked over at him fully now. Of course you weren’t as sly as you thought you were. You unbuckled your seatbelt. Steven made a sound in protest but it was quickly replaced with soft panting breaths as you turned in your seat, got up on your knees, leaned over the center console and pressed your lips to his neck.

“Oh, darling, I’m trying to…”

Your right hand wasn’t as gentle as your left had been and you reached between his legs to find his impressive bulge waiting there. He let out a murmur but you couldn’t tell what it was he was saying. There was no hiding how desperate you were, you wanted to feel his lips on yours, and his big hands all over your body.

“Steven,” you whispered, “is there somewhere we can go?”

“Y-yeah yeah, course.” His neck was tense under your lips.

You continued rubbing your hand along his clothed shaft while you kissed his neck in wet, needy kisses. He turned into the nearest place he could think of, a secluded parking lot of a department store where he parked quickly, undid his seatbelt and then hungrily turned his face to yours. Your lips collided as though they had been kept apart for too long, and to you, they had been. Steven reached his hand behind you and pulled you over the center console and into his lap where you straddled him, knees on either side of his legs.

“Mm, Steven, I missed you.” You grabbed his cheeks and sat back, just taking a moment to admire the hooded gaze you were coming to recognize as Steven painfully aroused.

“I missed you, too, darling, missed you.” He said in between kisses as he grabbed the hem of your dress and started rolling it up over your thighs.

His hands went back to your rear before he stopped. Steven realized that you weren’t wearing panties. His eyes were wide when he looked at you in surprise.

“Love, you’re not wearing…did you forget to…” for someone who hadn’t done a lot in the sex department, you were full of surprises.

“Wanted to be ready for you, just in case.” You brought your mouth to his neck again.

Your hands went to his belt and you started tugging, struggling to kiss him more while also fumbling with his pants.

“Off, please take them off.” You put your hands in his hair instead.

Steven was more successful than you were, pulling them down to his thighs. His hands went right back to your body, one grabbing the thick of your hip and the other against your spine to press you closer.

“I just wanna…slide myself over it, like on the outside.” You explained feebly, to which he nodded eagerly.

“Whatever you want darling, just do it, whatever you need.”

You reached between your legs and positioned his smooth and hard length so you could slide your folds over it. Steven moaned at the feeling of having your cunt over his cock like that. He wanted nothing more than to plunge himself deep into your heated core, but he wouldn’t, he’d take whatever you’d give him, and he’d love every second of it.

“Fuuuuuck.” Steven said for the first time since you’d known him.

As you rose up, you reveled in the way the ridge at the head of his cock felt against your clit before sliding it back down over the length. Steven tugged at the strap of your dress, pulling it down your arm and then bringing the neckline underneath your breasts.

“Oh, love…” He stuck his mouth over your nipple, sucking and teething at it.

He was ravenous in the way he mouthed over your peak. You were nearly screaming in his car, grateful that no one was around to hear your constant cries. If they were, it’s not like you would notice them anyhow, the windows were completely fogged over at that point. You gasped when he bit a little too hard.

“You make such pretty noises, you know that?” He grabbed your hips and stopped you from riding him. “Here, let me darling.”

Steven was faster than you, fucking upward against your crevices. When you looked down you could see his cock peeking out from between your legs. He was watching you, seeing the grin across your face at the sight.

“You like that, like the way I look sliding out from underneath you?” He threw his head back as he continued grinding faster against you.

“Yes, yes I…ohhh I like it a lot, Steven.” You leaned down, getting close to his lips while he kept his fingers squeezing tightly into your sides. “Love the way your cock looks.”

“Y-yeah? You do? F-fuck, can you say that again?”

“It’s so big Steven, it feels so good, and it looks…mm, it looks so good slipping between my legs like that.” You spoke in a breathless tone while you approached your orgasm.

Your words must’ve hit the spot because his cock hardened underneath you and started shooting hot spurts against his shirt. The hardness gave you all you needed to achieve your own release in just a few more thrusts. You were throwing your head back and you felt Steven’s mouth over your nipple again while you came.

Neither of you moved right away. Steven just stayed breathing heavily over the wet mess he’d made around your peak, his forehead reading against your heart. You rested both of your hands on his shoulders, trying to decide when you were going to let go. In truth, you didn’t want to let go. You could live in this parking lot if it meant staying with Steven all night held close to him like this.

He felt the same, but neither of you dared to voice it. He looked up at you finally, pulling you down and slotting his lips against yours. He wished he could take you to his apartment and keep you there as his. Steven wondered what it would be like to have you curled up against his chest while he read you to sleep, what it would be like to see your sparkling eyes first thing in the morning.

Despite his desires, he couldn’t do it. The risk that you two might get caught was too great, Steven didn’t live far from campus afterall. Not to mention the chance that Marc or Jake might sneak in and say something to you on his behalf, causing even more problems. He pulled back from the kiss with a heavy sigh.

“I’d better get you home.”

You nodded, “yeah sure.”

It was all too obvious based on your tone that you didn’t want to go back to your dorm, but you knew you had to.

The drive home was short, too short for the both of you, and Steven was left feeling alone again as he drove away from the coffee shop after having dropped you off. He knew Marc was just simmering just below the surface, and it was only a matter of time before he popped up again to rain on his parade. Steven was tired, sated from his orgasm still, and it was making it harder for him to keep Marc at bay.

“Steven.” He said coldly, “this has gone way too far. You need to stop it now before you really screw everything up.”

“Marc, I’m not doin’ this. You and Jake had the body for years, you put me through hell, now you leave me alone.” Steven always got emotional when Marc started interfering with his life, because when that happened, it didn’t usually end well for Steven.

“I want to leave you alone, Steven, I really do, but you’re making it impossible. Do you know what’s going to happen if you get caught? Huh?”

Steven pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building. If he ignored Marc, he’d have no choice but to go away. Steven knew that he could maintain control of the body, so now it was just a matter of mentally tuning Marc out again.

“You’re going to get us killed!”

AO3 LINK

Previous Chapter - Next Chaper

TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame@thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @ninebluehearts, @outmodead, @sleepyamaya, @pimosworld, @ababynova, @flordelalunas, @360iris, @momo-mochiball, @missdragon-1, @lunar-ghoulie, @liquorlaughslove, @kiwibaekie, @wordacadabra, @deezisnotreal, @onzayhe, @romanarose, @mt2sssss, @justmaragudytha, @strawb3rry-gal

[hannieehaee]

BAD HABIT (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: hiding his secret crush on you was already hard enough for jungkook, and after getting bit by a spider, he'd now have the grueling task of hiding his brand-new superhero identity from you.

content: spiderman!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, based on mcu's spiderman and is supposed to take place during/after civil war but with an aged up spiderman, college-aged Jungkook and reader, picture tattoo-less 2019 jungkook, pining, slow burn-ish, afab reader, smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 878 (teaser); 9.4k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: august 6th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: writing a spideykook fic is a right of passage for every jk fanfic writer

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Oh my God, did you see what he did last night?", you excitedly shoved your phone in Jungkook's direction, showing him yet another news article detailing Spiderman's newest act of bravery.

"What, did he stop another bank robbery?", Jungkook showed disinterest in your interruption, continuing to pay attention to what was playing on the TV.

"Okay, booo! Why are you so lame about him? He's so cool," you complained, setting your back against the couch again with a frown.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Just don't see what the big deal is about him. There's cooler superheroes out there."

With the light from the TV shinning on the two of you, you allowed the content from the movie to consume you for a bit before arguing back. You always argued back when it came to Spiderman. This was practically routine to Jungkook by now.

"Like Iron Man? Sure, Tony Stark's cool, but think about it — Spiderman's probably just a regular person like you and me. Can you imagine doing all he does while keeping it all undercover?", you rambled on, "Also his body's crazy," you added as an afterthought, almost whispering it to yourself.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at this, inadvertently looking down at his own abdomen before responding, "How do you know he's got a nice body under that suit?"

"You can literally see his abs through the suit! Duh!", you tutted at him as if he were an idiot to question you.

"Ah, right. My bad," he chuckled, "Okay, whatever. Just pay attention to the movie. You can ramble about him all you want after we finish, okay?," he held up his pinky towards you in a childish fashion, grinning when you giggled at him and intertwined your pinky with him, grumbling a 'fine' in mock annoyance.

Now with you both putting your focus on the movie, — Jungkook's all-time favorite, Back to the Future — Jungkook had the opportunity to lose himself to his own head, thinking about your recent obsession with Spiderman — New York's newest hero.

After Spiderman's recent appearance at an encounter with the Avengers in Germany, followed by a more prominent presence in the streets of New York with a revamped suit, you had instantly formed an intense interest in the masked man. Prior to that, the hero was mostly a man hidden in the shadows — a myth to all those in Queens. Almost immediately upon his return to New York he became a sensation across the world, but specially around the area in which he'd serve the people and fight all evil around.

Among all those fans stood you, maybe the biggest of them all.

It didn't take you long to develop a liking to the masked man upon his sudden resurgence. Jungkook had known you to get overly invested in your interests (there had been a few instances throughout your friendship where you'd demonstrated as such), but he never thought you'd be the type to develop such a blatant crush on someone you virtually knew nothing about. Past the fact that he was the youngest addition to the Avengers, there was not much information about Spiderman out to the general public, yet you were quite loud about your crush on him to everyone you knew — especially to Jungkook, who just so happened to be your best friend.

Unfortunately to Jungkook, you were entirely unaware that the man you were actually crushing on was your best friend in disguise.

And even more unfortunate to him, you were even more unaware of Jungkook's own crush on you.

Did this count? Were you technically crushing on Jungkook?

He chose to go for the most pesimistic answer and assume that your interest in Spiderman would immediately die upon finding out his real identity. Throughout your many years of knowing each other — all through the ups and downs of middle school and high school all the way to university — you'd never once shown anything but platonic interest in him.

To be fair, Jungkook also never gave you any clear indication of his feelings for you. He liked to think that he was discrete about it; that you had no idea of the embarrassing crush he'd been cultivating since freshman year of high school. Fortunately, you appeared to be far too oblivious to it, leaving Jungkook to hold not one but two life-altering secrets, never once considering letting you in on either of them.

For now, all Jungkook could do was make up lame excuses for his sudden absences and to grumble any time Spiderman's name was brought up. Part of him held disdain for Spiderman due to having to keep him a secret from you, but most of his dislike was born out of jealousy over your interest in him. What did he have that Jungkook didn't? Nothing! But he could never tell you that, leading him to a never-ending dilema that he could entrust in no one.

The movie left his mind for the next of the night, much more so when you seemed to become disinterested again, cuddling against him as you prepared to let yourself fall asleep. This was common in your relationship, though it was always strictly platonic. It always left Jungkook wanting more, but still content at having you by his side.

...

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[buckets-and-trees]

SALT (Bucky x Reader)

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: 2.8k  Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You've risen through the ranks, and when your mentor retires, you're rightly given the mantle of executive chef at Devour. On your night of ascension, the dining room is packed, and among the guests is someone equally as relentless to get what he wants.

Content Warnings: imbalanced power dynamics, bribery, workplace manipulation, NON/DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit language, risk of being caught, food play, knife play, nipple/breast play, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, edging, unprotected vaginal intercourse, non-graphic cream pie (not the food kind)

Additional Notes: Written for @the-slumberparty's April Mob AU challenge. Using dark prompt #23 (bolded in the dialogue).

tagging some peeps who showed interest in the preview for this little thing: @sidepartskinnyjeans @vonalyn @winterslove1917

“You’re not serious, Stanley.”

“I am.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Sure. Whatever. I don’t have time for customer meet and greets during a normal service, let alone tonight of all nights.”

“You will do it,” Stanley insisted, “because it’s James Barnes and he’s got more money and influence than any god. He owns the mob scene in this town.”

When your maître d’ didn’t say anything more, you turned to truly look at him. 

You frowned but set down your pan with a huff. “Fine. Charlie, take over while I apparently go make an appearance.”

“Table twenty-seven,” Stanley said, handing you a clean dish towel, which you pressed against your forehead, cheeks, and neck as you headed for the door that led from kitchen to dining area, tossing the towel in the laundry bin under one of the counters. 

You pushed past the kitchen doors and walked through the dining room towards table twenty-seven, one of the handful booths and tables nestled in small alcoves that offered a little more privacy for VIP reservations, set off on a small dais with walls of green plants strategically placed to create ambience while sectioning off the area from curious eyes and a plethora of potential phone cameras. 

There were five individuals seated around the table, but he drew your attention first as you approached. He clocked your progress before any of his companions, and when he looked up, his stare fixed on you with such intensity that you took a brief pause before your next step, which he clearly noted, and the corner of his mouth ticked up in the slightest smirk. It made your blood heat with irritation, but you focused on remaining calm and professional as you stepped up to the table. 

“This was an exquisite meal, Chef,” he said, drawing the attention of his companions to you immediately.

“Thank you,” you replied. 

“Sam here hasn’t been able to shut up about it since the first course came out,” a blonde man sitting to his right said. 

“And you haven’t left even a crumb on your plate through any course, Steve,” he chided back good naturedly. 

Each of them had a girl tucked in next to them, but not the man with dark hair and steel blue eyes you still found it difficult to look away from who had to be the infamous James. His friends and their companions continued to rave for another minute or two about different parts of the meal’s courses. You expected them to be closer to the age of your parents, not much nearer yours. 

“Well, thank you again,” you finally said. “We’re pleased to have you dining at our restaurant tonight. Devour is a dream for all of us on the staff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen to oversee final preparations for the dessert course.”

“I’m eager for what’s to come next, Chef,” he said, looking you up and down, his eyes darkening. You’d delivered the overture for your exit, but he somehow made it clear it was only with his approval that you would leave in that moment. 

Twenty minutes later, you sprinkled a touch of flaky salt over the ribbon of whiskey-laced caramel drizzled over the chocolate mousse, Charlie adorned it with a perfect rosette of the Chantilly cream, and you slid the final plate across to Stanley, who put it on the final tray and sent the waiter on his way. 

“That’s service, everyone!” you announced, and some of the staff clapped and whooped. 

You smiled, truly satisfied. Charlie bumped elbows with you, and when you turned your head to look at him, you couldn’t help the genuine smile bursting across your face. 

“Truly a triumph for you taking over,” Stanley said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’ve more than earned your new title as the executive chef of Devour and this kitch–“

He was cut off as there was a burst of activity at the doors coming in from the dining room. “Everyone, clear the kitchen! Out the back, please,” came a booming voice that you’d heard speak much more congenially earlier in the dining room. It was clear this man was used to giving orders and having them followed without question. 

“Excuse me,” Stanley turned to look, but on seeing who was sweeping in and ushering his staff out before him, but his tone shifted when he saw who was giving the orders – now guarded but polite, “Oh, Mr. Rogers.”

“And if I could have a word with you in particular,” Steve said, addressing Stanley and nodding towards the back. 

“Of course,” he responded.

You and Stanley exchanged a glance, and you began clearing out with the rest, but Steve put a hand on your shoulder. “Not you,” he said a little more quietly. “You stay here.”

You frowned and tilted your head as you looked up at him. He only smirked at you. 

“The rest of you, keep it moving, let’s go!”

You chewed on your bottom lip and let your hand drop to the silver surface of the counter where your fingers immediately began to drum impatiently. After a moment you turned to look over at the door to the dining room, and your breath hitched. 

He was there, leaning up against the door frame, blue eyes fixed on you. 

His face was unreadable, and so you tried to keep your face blank as well as he stalked toward you, coming around the plating area and to your side of the counter. 

“What is this, Mr. Barnes?”

“I’m buying this restaurant. Steve’s arranging everything with Stanley right now.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I own this kitchen, and I own you, Chef.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he put two fingers to your lips. 

“I’m tripling your salary,” he said as he stepped right into your space, backing you up against the counter, only a breath of space between you. 

Your heart was racing for too many reasons – anger, incredulity, but also a thrill of arousal. You wanted to refuse him, but he also drew you in, and you could not deny that. You knew he was dangerous, you were infuriated by his audacity, and yet…

“You can’t turn down an offer like that,” he continued, “especially not after the years of hard work I know you put in for the executive chef apron in this kitchen. Our stories are not so different in that way. You earned this. You won’t walk away.” 

“I can–“

“But you won’t,” he cut over you. You glowered, but he ignored your slow burning anger and instead reached around behind your back to tug at the ties of your apron. Then his voice dropped down an octave as he spoke again, “Don’t fight me. You will give yourself to me.”

“I won’t.” You cocked your chin up.

“You will,” he insisted. He pulled the black apron away from your body and tossed it onto the counter behind you.

“You will give yourself to me now.” He pushed forward, pinning you to the counter with his pelvis. You tried to suppress a shaky exhale, feeling his erection pressing into you.  “Soon you will warm my bed,” he bent his head down to ghost a kiss at your temple, then another on your cheek, before he moved his mouth further down and murmured his next threat down the column of your throat, “and I promise it won’t be long until you will beg for me to take you apart without any coercion.”

When his tongue darted out over the sensitive spot just under your jaw, a whimper escaped from your chest before you could stop it, and you felt him smile against your skin. 

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Please, anyone could catch us.”

He chuckled. “Sam and Steve are preventing that,” he said, pulling away just enough to start unbuttoning your black chef’s jacket. “But,” he continued, “if you make too much noise, you’ll confirm that we’re doing anything more than talking.” 

Once he had finished with all the buttons, he pushed the coat open. Your eyes were still closed until you felt the cool edge of a knife on your sternum, and your eyes burst open again, fear and adrenaline rushing through your body, but luckily he wasn’t looking at your face, focused instead on your chest where his metal fingers skimmed lightly over the bared skin for just a moment before they gripped the fabric of your black camisole and bra while his other hand tore his knife down in a swift movement, splitting your undergarments down the middle, putting your chest on full display for his hungry eyes. He pushed the clothing out of the way fully only over your left shoulder. 

He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes again. “Dessert was exquisite, but it didn’t satisfy what I wanted.”

He reached for a nearby saucepan, which still had a ladle in it, and smiled as he gave it a stir. You watched as he took a scoop of the caramel sauce and poured a little over the round swell of your breast. It was warm, and started to slowly spread, but not enough to drip and make a mess. You imagined in his line of work, he knew how to be precise, not leave anything extra to clean up. He set the pan back down on the counter, and then reached for something else, returning with a pinch of the flaky salt that he then sprinkled over the caramel. 

For a moment he merely admired his handiwork. then his warm hand came up to cup the underside of your breast, and then his mouth descended to lap up the salted caramel from your tender flesh. Heat bloomed across your chest and straight to your head and your core, his ministrations eliciting a low moan from you. He hummed in approval, then took your nipple into his mouth. Your nipples were always very sensitive, and he was not careful with his attention there, sucking, nipping, and licking until you whimpered and tried to push him away. He kept mouthing painfully at your nipple another moment longer. 

He leaned back for a moment to look own at you, scrutinizing your face. You were not sure what he saw there, truthfully you didn’t know how to feel and what front to put up, but whatever he assessed didn’t deter him. 

He lifted one hand to your neck and then trailed the back of his fingers down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach, a light touch that wasn’t rushed, knowing he could draw a shiver of anticipation from you with the purposeful action. He unbuttoned your pants, and as he slipped his hand into your panties and cupped your mound, he leaned in close to your ear and softly said, “You earned this, too, Chef.”

His fingers sought your folds. “And you are wet for me.” You didn’t need to see his face to imagine the satisfaction that must be there – it was evident in his tone. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear. “Close like this,” he whispered, “I’ll still hear even the small pretty noises I’m going to draw from you with my fingers in your cunt.”

And even though you were expecting it – dreading it? – you gasped when he quickly thrust two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, and moved them expertly in and out of your tight heat, questing and quickly finding the sensitive spongy spot on the front of your pelvic wall. You bit your lip to keep keening as quiet as you could, and your arms gripped his biceps, looking for an anchor to reality. He played your pussy quickly, nimble and knowing fingers familiarizing themselves too easily with your body for your comfort. 

His thumb went to work expertly drawing tight circles over your clit, still thrusting his fingers inside you, and the additional stimulation forced you into an intense orgasm you didn’t want to give him, burrowing your face into his neck to smother your small cry of ecstasy. 

You didn’t want to see his face – undoubtedly haughty knowing he’s pleased you despite you wanting to refuse him the satisfaction – and in this you are spared at least for the moment as without pretense he abruptly spins you around and tugs your pants and underwear down your thighs. You heard the quick unbuckling of his belt and unzipping of his pants as he freed his hard length. You had only a second to brace yourself against the countertop as he gripped your hip with one hand and used his other to guide his tip to your thoroughly slick and ready opening. One full and quick thrust had him fully sheathed inside you, punching the air from your lungs. He leaned forward against your back, his mouth close to your ear again. “Feel me in there? Stretching you to the limit.” 

He rolled his hips ever so slightly, slowly, and your head fell back against his shoulder.

“Yes, Chef. Just like that.”

He pulled his hips back, then gave another slow and powerful drive into your cunt. “Feel as smooth and velvety around my cock as that caramel sauce was on my tongue.” While one hand remained on your hip, as he began to pick up the pace with his thrusts his other hand brushed up your spine, then moved around to grasp your breast, the one he’d overstimulated just a few minutes before. You whimpered and tried to jerk away, but you’re met with his strong chest up against your back. He chuckled and then began to tweak and roll the nipple between his fingers. 

You tried to pull his hand away, still whimpering. 

“I intend to leave you feeling me for days from this, Chef,” he growls in your ear. His thrusts become rougher, faster, slamming into you over and over again. Your hands pulled at his wrist torturing your nipple, but your strength was nothing to his, and soon tears were spilling down your cheeks. When an audible sob escaped your throat, he finally relented and released your breast, but then he gripped your hips with both hands, showing no mercy for your pussy as he chased his own pleasure. 

Without the pain, your body focused only on the pleasure mounting in your core now. This felt good. He felt good. His cock filled you exquisitely. You tried to rock your hips just slightly to where you know he’d hit that pleasurable spot in you again, but he controlled the movement and forced you to stay at the angle he wanted. 

“This one is for me, Chef, not you,” he grunted. 

Still, you pant together, lungs heaving, and you’re hurtling toward another orgasm. His hips stutter for a moment, and with a groan he releases his spend inside you, slowing his movements. 

You couldn’t hold back a needy whine as he pulled out of you. You looked over your shoulder at him incredulously, edged to the very moment before but then denied your second release. 

He paused after tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs and gripped your chin, demanding an abrasive kiss from your lips. “When you come apart on my cock, I want to watch your beautiful face and hear you beg for me.”

Years in the kitchen have taught you to hold back your words when there’s even a shade of uncertainty, and you are uncertain if you will give him what he wants or not, because you can’t deny that your body absolutely wants him, and part of your spirit does, too. Relentless power recognizing another like its own, and you hate that you’re more than a little intrigued. You don’t want to just give him what he wants, but a tiny sliver of you whispers that you shouldn’t cut off your nose just to spite him. 

You pulled up your pants while you heard him zip and buckle his own pants again. One he had tucked in his shirt, again with swift precision, he turned you back around to face him. He reached for your apron, wiped his hands, then set it back on the counter. He didn’t mess with your torn shirt and bra other than to adjust them well enough so he could close your chef coat and button that back up over your chest. 

He gazed right into your eyes again, brushing his thumb over your lips, parting them slightly, then pushing them closed again. 

“I’ll be back for more soon,” he finally said, then walked away without another word. 

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

LINK TO PART TWO: FAT

[gunsandspaceships]

Many degrees of Doctor Stark

It is widely known that 616 Tony has several doctorates. The number varies from 3 to 7, but it doesn't really matter whether he is 300 or 700% Doctor. He is one. And he doesn’t use his title 99.999% of the time.

Ok, but what about the MCU?

It is never mentioned whether Tony has a PhD or even a master's degree. Kinda weird. Both the absence of mentions and lack of degrees, since Tony is so smart and productive.

Let’s check, maybe he actually has some.

Here we have a file from a deleted scene from The Avengers (2012):

As we can see, the work is sloppy – there are inaccuracies in his hair color (it’s not black, it’s brown), and the fact that he speaks French was not included. Can we rely on this paper? Let’s not 100%, but we can still use things that don't contradict the movies.

The fact that he received his BS in Engineering from MIT does not contradict this, so we can mark it as valid. He started in 1984 when he was 14 years old and graduated in 1987 when he was 17.

We see no further education in the file. But we know something that this file doesn’t. We watched the movies.

Remember, in Civil War at 0:13:25, in the scene where Tony sees his parents for the last time, Maria tells Howard, “Be nice, dear, he’s been studying abroad”. Tony is 21 here, this is December 16, 1991. Looks like he is on winter break.

But wait… Didn’t he graduate in 1987 and stop then? Well, Maria tells us he continued.

Between 17 and 21 there are 4 years. What could he have done in these 4 years? A lot, right? He is smart and productive, we know that. A master’s degree usually takes 2 years. Tony could earn it in 1. 1 or 2, we still have 2-3 years that we need to fill with some kind of studying. I doubt he just went back and got another bachelor's or master's. That said, he was working on his PhD.

We don't know where. “Abroad” is a very broad concept. Maybe he went to Europe to study at Oxford? We do not know. Perhaps he stayed at MIT and just went somewhere else for the fall semester. We do not know. But he did go somewhere for (most probably) a PhD.

The question is: did he finish it?

Well, his parents died in Dec 1991, and we know from the first Iron Man (0:04:50) that Stane was the interim president of Stark Industries from that date until 1992. Most likely, Tony became CEO before his birthday, that is, May 29, which corresponds to the stated age of 21. He had a few months between.

We don’t know where he was in his degree at that time. But we know he is smart and productive. He doesn’t need 4 years to write a dissertation.

So, there are 2 options:

1) He did not complete his doctorate and devoted himself entirely to the company;

2) He completed it in the few months he had and then took over the company.

Here’s the evidence for the second option:

“Confusing matters more, a recently deleted LinkedIn profile for Tony Stark indicated he received doctorates in engineering physics and artificial intelligence.”

Source: https://alum.mit.edu/slice/who-iron-man

Given all the information and analysis we have, as well as a little logic, we can conclude that Tony has a Ph.D. Even two. He had time to do them. Why doesn't he use his title? Well, maybe for the same reason 616 Tony doesn’t? He doesn’t usually brag. Check out this post if you have any doubts about my statement.

Here are some additional hints:

He gave lectures at scientific conferences (IM1 and IM3 - Bern 1999).

His scientific expertise was not limited to engineering and his company's affairs (all the movies, but specifically I can point you to IM3– the scene with Maya Hansen and her Extremis-enhanced plants in Bern).

“He must have graduated after 1990, because the '90 Brass rat was the first one with the skyline on the edge.” MIT alumni commentary https://alum.mit.edu/slice/who-iron-man

Conclusion (actual): call him Doctor Stark, guys, he deserves it. Despite his modesty about his scientific achievements, Dr Stark has a couple of master's degrees and at least two PhD degrees in the MCU - in engineering physics and artificial intelligence.

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

With a few days to go before Deadpool and Wolverine is released, here’s my final theory going into the movie:

The mission that the TVA sends Wade and Logan on is to try to save the Fox X-Men universe. For some reason, the Fox-verse is collapsing, possibly due to an incursion with another universe. This is bad since we’re not talking about a timeline getting deleted, we’re talking about EVERY possible X-Men timeline being erased.

(Universes are the main threads, alternate timelines are branches that sprout out from those universes. So think of the MCU and the Fox-verse as their own separate threads with their own branching timelines. And the Fox-tree is being cut down somehow)

The thing is, no matter what Wade and Logan do, they can’t stop the incursion. Thus, they come to accept that the Fox-verse is going to die (which feels symbolic to what happened to the X-Men movie series in real life)

But that’s when Wade comes up with an idea. Maybe they can’t save the Fox-verse. But…what if they can save the people and the stories in it? Instead of letting all the Fox-verse characters disappear into oblivion, Wade asks if it’s possible that the Fox characters can migrate to another universe.

The TVA says it’s possible, but in order to do that, they’d have to find a universe where the Fox characters don’t exist. In addition, there’ll be a cost. The merger will result in the Fox characters being “reborn” in the new universe, but without any memory of their life in the Fox-verse. This is to ensure a smooth transition in the merger, make it so that no one notices there was a HUGE change in the universe.

Side note: Maybe as a sign that the merger was successful, we get a callback to when Kamala Khan was implied to be a mutant.

Wade then looks into the camera and says something along the lines of, “Hmm…I wonder which universe I’m picking to merge with-MCU, let’s be for real here. Fuck, I should’ve stretched that out more!”

So the merger happens, resulting in the X-Men characters/mutants now being part of the MCU, but no one noticing the change. Everyone acts as if they were there the whole time.