#sorry i didn't post revelations or vampire nat fic

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Perks of the Job

(A/N) One unfortunate part of my immortality is that when I get a thought of something I simply cannot live on without expelling it from my body into the ether. happy late valentines day sorry i work at a candy store uwu so anyway this is long and so i might be able to break it up into 3 or 4 good size parts, if you would like to endure some carol smut with me. Most of u want natasha smut and that’s also coming soon but i am very sleepy bc i forgot i already ate those melatonin gummies so i ate more and then i forgot i ate those so i ate two more and anyway we’re gonna see what happens i guess (future me spoiler alert: bad idea. tasty gummies tho)

 Rating: Explicit (18+ holy shit i cannot stress this enough)

Warnings: porn without plot basically; smut; slight daddy kink; ceo carol danvers au; also tony stark shits on dongal trumpet (not literally i just realized how bad that seems after everything else. i meant verbally); oral (reader receiving); Carol being a cocky little shit; ooc wanda probably

Pairing: CEO!Carol Danvers x F!Stark!Reader

Word Count: 5,682

Synopsis: You’re expected to take the mantle as CEO of Stark Industries, being not only the daughter of Tony himself, but also one of the top employees. You work your ass off all day for the company, and how does your father repay you? By cutting off your bank accounts, to ‘teach you a lesson’, and practically giving you away to the CEO of a rival company until a proper deal is made between the two. Out of your annoyance blooms a scandalous affair.

From the moment you stormed out of the elevator, the atmosphere of the otherwise bustling office changed drastically. There’s a lull in conversation, bodies tensing as all eyes are on you. You don’t break your furious stride to your father’s office, bursting through the door viciously.

“What the hell, dad?!”

Tony Stark, a smart man by all means but far from a patient one, looks up with a calm expression that only serves to fuel your anger. “Ah, you’re later than I’d thought you’d be.”

“I had to take a bus. A. Bus.” You shudder at the memory. “Do you have any idea what the New York Public Transportation System is like-”

“That’s exactly,” he leans back, propping his feet on his desk with that goddamn smirk of his, “what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What, Stark Industries moves from insane technology to insane public transport?” You scoff, sitting down with a huff in the chair across from him. “That requires putting my accounts on hold?!”

“No. You are spoiled.”

You gape at him. “I went to college-”

“To get a job here, and, one day, run the place. I know.” He clears his throat, pulling his feet down so that he can stand up. “Your brain isn’t what I’m disappointed in.” What the fuck is happening? “It’s your attitude.”

“You raised me-”

“Exactly. That’s exactly my point.” He sighs, looking out at the New York skyline. “You’re smart, but you’re stubborn. Like me. You can’t keep focusing on partying, you have to actually work for my position. Start pulling your weight.”

“‘Pulling my weight’? I just landed us a deal with-”

“Small investors that only say yes because you’re an attractive young lady.”

You groan in disgust. “Gross, dad-”

“But you rely on my wealth and name to get what you want, and that- we can’t do that. That’s not what you’re going to turn out like.”

You sink into the chair defeatedly. “You’ve been watching The Apprentice, haven’t you?”

“I just goddamn hate Trump so much, sweetie,” he hums, looking back at you with a smile. “I want what’s best for you. So, I’m giving you a real challenge this time.”

This piques your interest. You sit up once again. “A real challenge?”

He nods, claps his hands together. “You’re gonna get us a partnership with Vers Industries.”

“Your… leading rival in aircraft designs?” Your eyebrows pinch inward. “I thought you hated their ‘cocky, bull-headed’ CEO?”

“I don’t hate her,” he clears his throat. “She just has a tendency to elicit strong feelings of dislike from deep within my soul, on occasion.”

“Because she calls you out.”

“Because- no, because she’s young money and I’m-”

“An old man?”

“Keep this up and I’ll keep your accounts turned off,” he warns. You chuckle, but stay quiet. “She keeps refusing my offers, so, I’m sending you to persuade her.”

You stare at him blankly for a long, long moment, letting the pieces click into place. “What’s the catch?”

“Catch? There’s no catch!”

“That sounds suspiciously like there’s a catch.”

“Well, part of the offer is having a personal Stark Industries rep to assist in a few daily-”

“You’re whoring me out?!” It comes out louder than intended. 

Your father cringes. “No! Not like that! Jesus, kid,” he runs his hands through his hair and pauses. “Well, she’s not exactly straight, but-”

Another groan escapes you. “You’re gonna marry me off like this is Game of Thrones.”

“You’re goddamn dramatic, you know that?”

“Gee, wonder where I get it from.”

Tony exhales slowly. “Well, anyway, I think with you at the helm, you might learn a bit of responsibility for goddamn once. Earn your pay.”

You roll your eyes. “And get us a good, lasting partnership.”

He grins. “You’ll do it?”

“You act as though I’ve got a choice.”

He claps his hands and lets out a ‘whoop!’

You really hate when he tries to prove a point.

- - - - 

Vers Industries’ office feels like a world away from your father’s. While your father favors eccentricity and extravagance over comfort, Vers Industries seems to manage the combination well. There are a few interesting decorations that one could label as ‘questionable’ in terms of art, but there’s also a homely feeling in the wooden walls and plush carpets. Even the furniture is bearable in the reception area.

It’s kind of annoying how friendly everyone is. You’re sure everyone is equally nice at Stark Industries, but most of the employees there sort of fear you for your ‘hotheaded tendencies’ and ‘temper’. At least, that’s what HR says.

Whatever.

“Ms. Danvers will see you now,” the receptionist is a sweet looking boy, probably fresh out of high school, who’s wearing a smile that’s deceptively kind. 

You nod curtly, standing and following him to the CEO’s office. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting, but you’re somewhat pleasantly surprised by the interior of the office. It’s a bit chaotic - Danvers must not be the neatest person, but there appears to be some sort of order to everything. The chairs are a deep maroon, save for the navy blue of the chair in which a blonde sits confidently behind a black, shiny desk.

You approach with a sway to your hips, holding your head high. Sure, you’ve played the seduction game plenty of times - it was usually easy, seeing as men are pigs - but you’ve never pulled this on a woman. At least, not successfully for work. (There have been some terrifying mishaps.) You’re a bit hesitant, because Danvers is watching you with burning intent as you hold your hand out in greeting.

She stands, slowly, and shakes your hand. “So you’re the infamous (Y/N) Stark.”

“You’ve heard of me?” You blink in surprise, dropping your hand and sitting primly in one of the plush maroon chairs across from her.

“Everyone’s heard of Stark’s troublesome little girl.” Danvers returns to her seat as well, placing her hands overtop her desk and folding them. “You aren’t exactly the type to stay out of the spotlight.”

“Well,” you clear your throat, blushing despite yourself. “Stark Industries is always headline news.”

“And there it is,” she grins easily, “the segway into why you’re here.”

You squirm a little under her gaze. It’s not menacing or uncomfortable, exactly, but something about her has you feeling on edge. Like you’re waiting for something to happen in some odd, thrilling way. “Mr. Stark has asked you to reconsider his offer,” you search your bag for the file your father had given you and slide it across the desk. “And has added a few small benefits for your sake.”

Danvers arches an eyebrow before opening the file, reading it in silence before looking back at you with a smirk. “He’s offering you to be my personal assistant?”

“He’s offering me as a repres- wait, what?” You wheeze. 

“For eight months, while we discuss the terms of our agreement.” Danvers chuckles at your reaction. “I take it you were not aware of this?”

“He definitely did not word it that way,” you say through gritted teeth, forcing your features back into a smile. Your nails are digging into your palms. “But, yes, I will be… your personal… assistant… for eight months.”

Eight months around this woman. Probably constantly. You can’t even gather your thoughts right now and it’s barely been ten minutes!

“Well, that is a lovely offer.” She closes the file. “But I’m not interested in partnering with a man who would use an employee-”

“Before you finish that sentence,” you interrupt, “the deal wouldn’t be finalized for eight months. Eight months for you to reconsider.”

She hums, examining you closely. You try not to squirm again, trying hard to match her gaze without flinching. It’s surprisingly difficult; she really shouldn’t be so intimidating. “Okay.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding when she looks down at the file. “Really? Just like that?”

“Something about making a rich white guy’s daughter be at my beck and call is pleasing to me.” She remarks, making your mind go to several places unrelated to work. “And your daddy must know my weaknesses, sending a cute thing like you to sweet-talk me.”

Daddy. Daddy. Oh Jesus what was she talking about? “My- oh.” You force an awkward laugh, standing up abruptly. “Yeah- he’s, y’know,” you point to your own head stupidly, “a genius. Stark trait, and all.”

“Uh-huh,” Danvers’ smirk widens. 

“Thank you, Ms. Danvers, my father will contact you about- about the- arrangement, and I suppose I’ll be working for you soon.”

“You can call me Carol,” the blonde says as you back away towards the door.

“Right. I’ll- ah, sorry, I just- have important things to… I’ve gotta gay. Go. I’ve gotta go.” Your cheeks are burning by the time you slip away, ignoring Carol’s laughter from within the office.

What the hell am I getting myself into?

- - - -

“-tell me that I’d be her personal assistant! I looked like an idiot in there!” You’ve been yelling at your father for the better part of fifteen minutes. The employees outside of the office have avoided the door like the plague. 

“But you got the deal, didn’t you?” Tony’s grinning proudly, like you’ve won the lottery in his name.

“Well, kind of. I said the eight months I’d be working for her would be a trial period, that she could tap out whenever she wanted.”

“You what-”

“You literally gave me away like some common employee, I think I have some leeway here.”

The door opens, giving both of you pause as your father’s fiance, Pepper, struts in. “I take it you found out?”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the heads-up, stepmonster.”

She scoffs. “As if I’d risk you breaking another computer.”

“She got the deal, though,” your dad offers with a grin.

“She could change her mind,” you point out.

“She won’t.” His grin only widens. “Because you’ll be there the whole way telling her how great Stark Industries is.”

“So this is corporate espionage?”

“No, it’s corporate… encouragement.”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “she’s a bit… intimidating.”

Pepper looks at you with a smirk. “She’s a bit of a womanizer, I hear.”

You blush. “I- well, I don’t know about that.”

“That could be-” Tony starts, but stops as soon as Pepper gives him a side-eye. “Well, who knows? We’ll have to invite her to our Charity Gala next week. Keep up appearances. Make sure the press is there, catch her interacting with you, (Y/N) and myself, and boom.” He snaps his fingers. “We got a deal!”

“Your confidence is stifling,” you grumble. Pepper laughs lightly. “It won’t be so bad. She’s nice to her employees, at least,” she adds with a sidelong glare towards your dad.

Tony doesn’t respond. Instead, he launches into what he considers to be the best gameplan to keep Carol on your team. You zone out more than once, admittedly, your mind preoccupied with the blonde that’s going to be your boss for the next eight months. Was she always so… is it considered flirting if it’s just stupid banter that flusters you? Maybe you’re overthinking this. She was obviously just teasing you because you’re the spoiled rich kid and she started her own company.

Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

(Right?)

- - - -

It took you an embarrassingly long time to get ready this morning. You’d woken up early because you couldn’t sleep, and spent hours thinking of what to wear, how to look, how to act. You’re twisted in knots overthinking everything about Carol Danvers.

Now, you’re fidgeting in Carol’s office as she lists off the duties she expects you to perform outside of the ones involving the partnership.

You’ve zoned in and out because she keeps moving around, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her tie loosened around her neck. She looks, by all means, casual as if you were talking about the weather. Her intense gaze occasionally finds yours, immediately making you lose focus each and every time.

After a while, she sighs, tapping her desk absentmindedly. “... but, you aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”

“Uh,” you blink rapidly, snapping back to the matter at hand. “The, um- the Gala. You wanted to go together.”

A cocky smirk pulls at the edges of her lips. “It’ll be good press coverage, at least.”

“That’s what my dad says.”

“And do you always do what daddy says?” She asks it like it’s a challenge, making you lose your breath momentarily.

“I-I do what’s best for the company.” You sputter dumbly, heat rising to your cheeks. God, nobody has ever flustered you this much before. It makes you sort of angry, how easily she’s able to pull these emotions out of you.

She hums thoughtfully, resting her chin on her palm. “That isn’t what I asked.”

Your mouth feels incredibly dry, all moisture in your body apparently deciding to relocate further south. “I do whatever I want, especially when our interests align.”

Carol throws her head back in a delighted laugh. “What a cute, well-practiced line. Have you used it in interviews?”

You let out a huff of annoyance. “It isn’t a ‘line’, it’s the truth.”

“Sure thing, princess.”

Feeling a little bold, you counter, “You sure seem to enjoy rubbing in the fact that I-”

“Had the world handed to you on a silver platter wrapped in a trust fund ribbon?”

“I-”

“I worked my way from the bottom to the top,” she straightens her back, squares her shoulders in a proud way. “I had nothing, until I got to where I am. You got a throne right next to daddy, an heiress who doesn’t understand the value of a dollar.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. Nobody has EVER talked to you like that. It has you reeling for a long moment. Your stupid thoughts are racing so much, so scrambled, that the only thing you manage to spit out is: “Can you- stop calling him my daddy?”

Carol’s smirk widens. “Why, is that position filled by someone else?”

“No!” You avert your gaze stubbornly. “It’s just- it’s- he’s just my dad. And for your information, I’ve worked damn hard, too. Some of us don’t flaunt our success.”

“You’re right, some only flaunt their daddy’s-”

“Jesus you’re incorrigible.”

“There’s that Ivy League vocabulary.” Carol bites her lip, an action you’re unabashedly drawn to. “Starting today, cutie, you’re going to be working real hard.”

For some reason, the way she says that makes your legs feel weak. You’re pretty certain this job is going to kill you before the eight months are up.

- - - -

Carol was not joking when she said you’d be working harder. You spend most of your first days doing bitch work you remember forcing others to do at your father’s company, and the irony of it doesn’t escape you. You almost wonder if she and Tony are in kahoots, trying to torment you out of your ‘trust fund baby’ ways.

She’s also relentless in her teasing. She’d give your father a run for his money when he first hired Pepper. She just knows your weaknesses, like it’s an instinct embedded deep in her brain, and exploits them so easily that, by the time the day is over, you go home all hot and bothered and flustered beyond belief.

The worst of it happens today.

You were neck-deep in your usual banter with the blonde, firing back as much as you could when Carol is wearing a short-sleeved button-up that beyond proves what you’d assumed before about her being absolutely ripped.

Your thoughts keep trailing off to other worlds where she’s using those muscles to throttle you into the next century, your comebacks becoming less and less coherent the more Carol sorts through her paperwork, deft fingers becoming your sole focus after a few pathetic minutes.

Finally, she stops and says your name. You snap out of your trance to glare at her.

“You’re pretty obvious, you know,” she says.

“Obvious?” You repeat, arching an eyebrow challengingly.

“Y’know, checking me out.” Carol leans back in her chair, causing it to squeak slightly. You cringe at the sound and the accusation.

“How narcissistic of you to believe I’m checking you out.”

“So, you weren’t just thinking about me?”

“Bold to assume I think about you at all.”

“It’s not so bold when you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

“I wasn’t undressing.” You scoff, rolling your eyes to avoid her gaze. Not a total lie. She had a tie on.

“But you admit you were thinking of me?” She grins cockily.

“You seem to want me to think of you,” you note skeptically.

To your amazement, Carol is the one who’s bashful. She clears her throat, looking away for a moment. “I enjoy being thought of.”

Interesting.

“Really?” You take on a tone you’ve used on plenty of potential clients before, planting your elbows on her desk and leaning forward slightly. Finally, a chance to turn the tables. Carol’s eyes dart downard before meeting yours again. “Well, Ms. Danvers, I can assure you, I think of you often.”

Her eyes darken considerably, lips parting to say something probably irritating, but there’s a knock at the door that interrupts her. You exhale softly, standing with forcibly relaxed shoulders to greet Peter - the sweet receptionist boy. 

A plan slowly begins to piece together in your mind. You’re far from the most patient person, much like your father, but you surprise yourself sometimes when you’re really focused on something you want. It’s about time the odd game of cat-and-mouse you and Carol have been playing turns in your favor.

- - - -

“Jesus- shit,” Wanda exclaims over Facetime, gaping at your choice of attire for the Gala. 

“A good pick, I take it?” You ask with a chuckle, examining yourself in the mirror. The dress is long and flowing, a slit on your left leg up to your thigh and a dangerously low neckline. It’s definitely way too showy for any average charity event, but, then again, most people equated you with being a bit over-the-top much like your father.

That being said, you’ve outdone yourself this time.

“I thought you said you weren’t trying to fuck your new boss?”

“I’m not, I’m trying to make her so flustered she stops teasing me for the rest of the time we work together.” You huff.

Wanda snorts. “It’s a top-bottom thing. She’s clearly caught onto the fact that you’re a pillow princess.”

“I will eat your bones,” you warn, to which she cackles.

“You’re so non-threatening, I can’t take you seriously.” She laughs. “Honestly, though, (Y/N). You’ll drive her crazy in that dress, and you don’t exactly have the best willpower.”

“I have loads of willpower.” You cross your arms defiantly. “Oodles of it. What, you think I’m just gonna give in the moment she tries to drag me away? IF she’s brave enough to risk getting caught fucking Stark Industries’ CEO’s daughter at their own charity event?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

- - - -

Fifty two minutes and twenty seconds.

That’s how long it takes for you to cave. Honestly, it’s probably more than Wanda would have guessed, but not by enough that you can boast about it.

Though you came to the Gala with Carol, you spent the first half hour chatting up as many women as possible. Some of it flirtatious, most of it just friendly as you knew most of the guests, but Carol’s eyes were on you all the while. Then, you started butting into her conversations - not rudely, of course, but staying by the side of your ‘date’ and politely interjecting just enough to remind her that, here you are, being the perfect little assistant. 

Flirting with the guys is what does it, you think. You were mostly doing it to coerce them into donating more money, but the reaction you received from Carol was much, much better. She came up behind you with a single dangerous purr, “Where’s your office?” 

And, well, that was just about it for you.

Carol drags her tongue over your clit slowly, teasingly. “I don’t like wasting my time, princess.”

She has you on your own desk, your panties thrown God knows where and her head right between your thighs. One of her hands draws mindless, teasing patterns into your thigh, making you shiver in more ways than one. Your poor dress had been bunched up so aggressively, you think you heard a tear.

You let out a wanton moan as Carol prods your entrance with her fingers. “Yet you love wasting mine.”

She enters you roughly, curling her fingers to press on a spot that makes another whimper spill from your lips. “Mm, I think we should put that mouth of yours to good use.” She withdraws her fingers, offering them to you with a daring smirk. “C’mon, don’t be shy. You’ve been teasing me all night.”

You narrow your eyes before engulfing her fingers in your mouth, smoothing your tongue over them to lap at the juices she’d gathered. A quiet noise escapes her, something like a moan, before her lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard enough for your hips to buck.

She withdraws her fingers, slipping them back inside of you with embarrassing ease. “So wet for me,” she purrs, the vibration making you whimper. “And so, so good.” Her tongue runs over your clit, around your entrance. “I love the way you taste.”

“Carol-” your whine of her name becomes a silent cry of pleasure when her fingers start moving, finding that spot inside of you and drawing inhuman noises out of your throat.

“That’s it, baby,” Carol hums, “say my name.”

One of your hands curls into blonde locks, the other clutching at your desk so hard your knuckles are white. The place hasn’t been used since you went to work with Carol, so it was pretty much still a mess, but most of the objects you’d once had on top of your desk had either been tossed aside by Carol or are dangerously close to toppling over on their own. 

“God- fuck, Carol,” you shudder, struggling to keep your breathing even as she sucks insistantly on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

She’s eating you out like it’s a game for her; one she’ll always win, her tongue occasionally replacing her fingers to drive you just on the precipice of a climax before stopping and watching you writhe and squirm.

“You look so pretty, all desperate for me,” Carol croons. “You’d look even prettier begging for me.”

“In- your- dreams- Danvers-” you rasp out between harsh breaths. Your whole body is shaking, caked in sweat as you struggle to breathe.

This is the least amount of control you’ve ever had in any situation. It’s alarming how willing you are to give into Carol, as if this were simply always meant to happen. It feels so fucking good, you can’t believe you didn’t just jump her bones the second you walked into her office. How can sex with Carol feel like the absolute best sex in your fucking life?

“Often, actually,” she replaces her fingers with her tongue again, tasting you in a lazy swipe of the muscle. You whimper brokenly, making her breathe a laugh against you. “All you have to do is beg, baby.”

“Carol-” you growl “-the-the Gala-”

“Right, the Gala,” Carol purrs in a mocking tone, biting at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and causing you to squeak. “I wonder what the odds are of a guest exploring Stark Industries?” You shudder at the idea, though not out of repulsion. Carol grins against you. “What would daddy say about his sweet little girl fraternizing with his business partner?”

“What happened to ‘troublesome’?” You groan when she adds a third finger.

“You aren’t so troublesome when you’re begging me to let you cum,” she proves her point by circling your clit skillfully. “Which you are going to do.”

“And- I thought I said to stop calling him-” the word gets caught around a loud moan as Carol plunges further into you by moving back up your body and using her hips for momentum. 

“Daddy?” She asks teasingly in your ear, pulling your lobe between her lips with her teeth. 

You let out a harsh breath, feeling yourself flutter around her fingers. Carol’s mouth falls to your neck to place a very, very obvious mark that you’ll never be able to hide. When she pulls back, her lips find yours in a searing kiss.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed her for this entire escapade, and it’s nearly enough to make you cum right then and there. She keeps you on that edge though, going slow and deep enough to keep you making quiet noises of frustration into her mouth.

“All you have to do,” Carol murmurs against your lips, “is beg for me, babygirl, and you can cum.”

Your eyes are brimming with tears, it’s so difficult to articulate or think. You want to scream, but the idea of being caught is terrifying. Your resolve crumbles to dust in the wind when Carol finds a spot deep inside of you that draws an inhuman noise from your throat.

“P-please,” you whisper.

“What was that?” Carol presses harder into you.

“P-please, let me cum,” you whine pathetically. “Please, Carol, please, I need- I need to come so badly. I’ll do anything! Please, d-” you’re cut off when Carol smooths over your clit once more, throwing you right off the edge and into an abyss of pleasure you’ve never experienced before.

Your throat is raw with the noises she pulls from you, body numb and tingly as it twitches and bucks beneath hers. 

“Good girl,” she says softly in your ear as you slowly come down from the high. “You did so good, baby.”

You slump into her, all of your muscles becoming jelly as she slowly pulls her fingers out and sucks obscenely on them. Carol, thankfully, keeps you steady while pressing gentle kisses against your neck and smoothing back your hair.

When you can sort of feel your legs again, you pull back slightly from her. “I’d return the favor, but- I think you broke my body.”

“Don’t worry about it, princess,” Carol winks, “you can return the favor next time.”

“Next time?”

“You think I’m not gonna fuck Tony Stark’s daughter more than once?” She scoffs, then pauses. “Uh, unless you don’t want to?”

“No, I want to.” You say a little too quickly. Her smirk is back, cocky as ever. Before she can say anything, you add, “Get that shit-eating smirk off your face, Danvers.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she doesn’t, though, “but I can’t get the thought of you screaming my name out of my head.”

“Save it for another day, stud,” you snort. “I seriously don’t know if I can stand right now.”

“Wait ‘til I show you my toys.” She fixes her tie, which, at some point, you’d loosened so that you could shove the collar aside and press heated kisses along her neck.

“Is this included in my pay?” You smooth down the front of your dress, hoping to all high hell that nobody will see that Carol’s torn the side up a bit higher.

“I’d say ask your old man, but,” her smirk only widens, “I don’t recommend it.”

She helps you off the desk, keeping you from toppling over as your body slowly adjusts to not getting your brains fucked out. She offers you your panties, but honestly they’re probably ruined beyond repair.

“We can’t just throw them out,” you huff, realizing that not only were they completely ruined, but they’d also definitely show, with how high the slit in your dress is now. “And this dress was expensive!”

“Aw, did daddy buy it for you?”

“How ‘bout daddy repairs the damn Versace?” 

“So I’m daddy now?”

You push Carol’s shoulder with a scoff. “Shut up, Danvers.”

“No, no, I’m genuinely curious now,” she advances quickly, mercilessly, until you’re pressed against the desk again. Her arm slides around your waist, her free hand moving to brush your hair behind your ear. “Do you, (Y/N) Stark, have a daddy kink?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out next time,” you respond huskily.

Carol hums, pressing a lasting kiss to your cheek. “That’s my good girl.”

Wanda is gonna be so goddamn smug.

The rest of the Gala isn’t nearly as eventful. Carol keeps her half-lidded gaze on you the whole time, a proud sort of look in her eyes when she sees the tear in your dress. While you’d love to leave and take care of the fact that you’re still soaked and you have no underwear, it’s simply not plausible for at least another forty minutes.

At last, Carol offers to drive you home and you gratefully accept. The ride is surprisingly easy, not awkward at all. No weird small-talk. Just companionable silence or the occasional friendly jab, like nothing had happened at all.

“Nice place,” the blonde remarks, pulling up to the massive structure after passing the security check.

“My dad got it for me after I graduated-” you stop yourself as soon as you see the stupid grin on Carol’s face. “What the hell is that look for?”

“You didn’t even buy your own first apartment?”

You roll your eyes, avoiding that dumb look in her eyes. “I get it, I get it. I’m spoiled. Geez, between you and my dad I’m basically reminded of it everyday.”

“Tony? Reminding you that you’re a trustfund baby?” Carol snorts, parking her car. 

“The hypocrisy, I know,” you roll your eyes. “He cut me off ‘til I can prove myself to him or whatever.”

“Wait, like, your bank accounts?”

“Yup.”

Carol laughs, to your complete and utter shock. She’s cackling, practically. She even makes a show of wiping an invisible tear from her eye. “That’s great. Maybe I was wrong about him.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you huff. “I had to take a bus the other day. Unbelievable.”

This only makes her laugh harder. She’s grinning at you, eyes sparkling with mirth. “You’re kinda cute when you talk about normal people things.”

“I-” you gape at her. “I am not-” you cross your arms stubbornly. “I’m not cute. I’m a badass, sexy woman, dammit.”

“Yeah,” Carol leans in to whisper, “but you’re also adorable,” before blowing a raspberry on your cheek.

You yelp, but can’t contain your laughter once Carol’s starts. This is a different side to her that you often saw with some of her personal friends (at least, the few that you’ve seen). You like when it’s directed at you, for whatever reason.

“You’re the worst,” you mutter once your laughter dies down. 

“Not what you were saying earlier, princess,” she winks. 

You open the car door with a scoff. “Now who’s being cute?”

“You think I’m cute?” She bats her eyelashes.

Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. “See you Monday, Boss.”

“I believe we agreed on, ‘Dad-” she doesn’t get a chance to finish before you close the door. You swear you hear her laughing, even as you flip her the bird.

Sex with Carol is one thing, but whatever the hell that was? That’s far more dangerous to fall into.

- - - -

“I fucking knew it.” Wanda announces as she, quite rudely, bursts into your loft the following morning. You look up from the television sleepily, stifling a yawn as your best friend approaches. “I knew you fucked.”

“You have no proof,” you respond flatly, your voice cracking. Yeah, you woke up without a voice. Go figure.

“Oh really?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “So, you’re clearly on that post-great-sex-buzz that you get because otherwise you’d be tearing my head off for not knocking. You haven’t even gotten up since I walked in. And,” she leans down, examining you so closely you have to avoid her gaze. “Is that a hickey on your neck?”

Your hand flies up to the spot under scrutiny, blushing furiously. “Okay, okay, fine! I admit it! I’m guilty!”

“I knew it!” She repeats, pumping her fist in the air victoriously before plopping down next to you. “So. What was it like?”

“I don’t have a voice, I can’t feel my legs, and I feel like my third eye opened.”

“Wow.” Wanda whistles. “That good?”

“Jesus Christ, Wanda, I’m a walking jellyfish right now.”

She laughs heartily. “So, are you gonna… y’know, have some kinky office-hours sex?”

You nearly choke. “I- fuck, I don’t know! I think at this point I’m just going with the flow.”

“Because you’re a bottom.”

“Because, technically, she’s my boss and my dad’s business partner.”

“So, yes, kinky office sex.”

“You act like we didn’t fuck in my office.”

“You fucked in your office?!” The dark haired girl gasps. “You dirty little devil! Doesn’t your dad usually go to his in the middle of those events to sneak the hard stuff?”

“I want to make a joke so badly, but I won’t,” you clear your throat. “He does, usually, yes.”

“How do you know he didn’t catch you?”

“Like my dad wouldn’t be up my ass about it if he did.” You roll your eyes. “Tony Stark is a gossiping teenage girl on his best days.”

She hums, nodding her head once. “You have a point there.”

“But, uh, there will be a next time. Carol sort of made it a point that there would be, at least.”

“That’s so exciting! Wow, secret office sex with daddy’s business partner-”

“Why the hell does everyone keep fucking calling him my daddy?!”

“Oh, sorry, is that what you’re calling Carol now?”

“You know, sometimes, I really want to punch you in the face.”

“But you won’t, because you’re a jellyfish and you love me.”

“Mmhm.”

- - - -

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