remember when we were all speculating pre 4.0 after the livestream that neuvillette would be some kind of mastermind controlling everything behind the scenes, but in reality hes just a gentle soul trying to navigate the ways of being human and protecting fontaine
like
okay. sign these papers for our marriage ig.🧍♀️
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Irondad fic ideas #154
CW: this one's pretty gruesome. read at your own risk
Peter is a young child who's been kidnapped. His parents and/or his aunt and uncle were killed and he was taken. Along with a bunch of other little kids, he's been held captive and experimented on.
When the Avengers suddenly bust the kidnapping operation, the kidnappers try at the last second to destroy their research. They gas the small room where the kids are being held.
It's Iron Man who ends up blasting through. What he finds is horrifying. All but one of the children are dead.
The one who's left is just sitting among the bodies, crying, shocked, terrified. Iron Man carries him out of there, then once they're safe from the gas Tony steps out of the suit to comfort the kid while he's given oxygen.
Little 5-year-old Peter Parker imprints on his savior hard.
He just went through an unimaginable amount of trauma, then Iron Man burst through like an avenging angel. This is the first time he's ever felt protected in his memory. Tony holds the crying kid, and the kid can tolerate no one else near him.
This becomes a slight problem when they get back to base. But Tony can't find it in him to let SHIELD take the kid away, let them strip him of this one tiny bit of comfort. He keeps seeing all those other kids when he closes his eyes.
This one needs him right now. And if "right now" eventually becomes "this is my son," well. Who could've predicted that.
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modern au where dazai is a frequent flyer at the hospital you work at, constantly getting into street fights or falling off his motorcycle, just anything that could warrant a quick ER visit so he can see his favorite nurse (you). he’s come in enough times to get a general vibe of your schedule and only comes in on the weekdays he knows you work. you roll your eyes each time, whispering to your coworkers that dazai’s back yet again, but you couldn’t quite help the lingering gazes and fight a smile any time he winked or smirked at you.
dazai wasn’t shy about showing very preferential treatment for you - you were the only one he’d ever let unwrap his bandages and treat the new wounds, also running your delicate fingers over the old scars. he never took his eyes off you as you wiped away the blood and spotted antibiotic cream onto his marred fists and glued together his busted lip after a fight, even memorized the same tune you’d hum each time you got ultra focused on the task at hand - patching him back up yet again.
one night when dazai comes in to the hospital shitfaced drunk and is acting extra belligerent and threatens staff, he’s assigned a sitter for the night - you. you’re the one he likes, and is the least likely to get decked in the face if you get on his nerves. he takes advantage of the fact that you’re stuck with him for the next 12 hours. he slowly pulls you apart, asking way too many personal questions about your relationships and love life, until he has climbed his way all the way to the top.
what began as a somewhat innocent “you’re gorgeous, ya know” turns into “i bet your pussy feels fucking amazing.” and you can reprimand him all you want, deny deny deny all you want, but dazai notices the way you have to cross your legs even tighter in the chair you’re sat in. dazai always notices.
it takes approximately 6 hours, dazai can barely remember how it even unfolded, but now you’re on top of him, blinds shut and a chair shoved under the doorknob of his room, hands wrapped tight around the bedrails as you fuck yourself on his cock over and over and over. scrub pants thrown to the floor and panties pulled to the side, dazai clamps a hand over his mouth to keep from moaning out at how fucking good you feel, what a little slut you are to let your favorite patient have his way with your cunt!
and if you’re walking funny for the rest of the shift, constantly checking the crotch of your pants to see if the cum dripping out of you has finally soaked through the fabric, none of your coworkers say a word. and neither does dazai. until next time :)
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You, flirting with The Master/Missy as a distraction: So, is there, like, anyone else in the picture, or...?
The Doctor, whispering furiously from where they'd been trying to sneak past: What the hell are you doing? You're supposed the be distracting them, not flirting with them!
You, whispering back, making no attempt to hide your annoyance: Can't I do both?!
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