#toni deserves a tag of his own

[steakout-05]

i've kinda had an idea floating around in my head that Toni (the scientist who was confirmed to be the guy in Robot Bird in a random short Halfbrick's channel uploaded) is actually Craig after regaining his memories and rediscovering who he was after finding his original profile in the deep offices of Legitimate Research, and after discovering his real name and all his original memories, he gets so mad at Barry for fucking his shit up that he completely rejects everything he had with Barry including his given name. and they'd have this super messy breakup where Barry tries to explain himself to him, and Toni gets pissed and directly challenges Barry on his morals. like, Barry tries to explain that before he met Toni, he was just some random scientist to him and he had absolutely no idea it was his boyfriend he stole from and ruined the career of, but that obviously doesn't change anything and in fact just hurts Toni even more, and he lashes out and attacks him. Barry is genuinely remorseful for his actions after the fact, but Toni is pretty reasonably angered about it and feels betrayed that someone who meant so much to him was the reason for his downfall, and he becomes a part of Really Bad Corp's team of villains (i cannot take this seriously with that name XD) out of revenge. gay angst ensues!

i kinda want them to be on good terms by the end of everything, but their relationship is too fractured to go on and they end up just being mere acquaintances and going their own separate paths. maybe Toni would consider possibly getting back together with Barry after he's had some time alone to relearn who he is, but that's going to take a very long time. as for Barry, he's gonna be preeetty upset about the whole thing. on one hand he gets why Toni is upset at him, but on the other hand, he just lost someone very important to him and he doesn't even have anyone else but himself to blame for it. he'll be ok though. he's got Flash as a moral support, and he'll find other friends. and maybe, one day, he might get to introduce them all to Toni again.

[thestarkinternship]

Under the Table

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: One Shot (Smut)

Summary: During a team meeting, you decide to have a little out of sight fun with Bucky. The kind that leaves both his mind and body the kind of mess that only you can clear up.

Word Count: 1.5k (no mention of Y/N)

Warnings: profanity, dirty thoughts, exhibitionism (other people unaware in the room), handjob (kinda?), mentions of sex and oral (male receiving). 18+, MINORS DNI

-

Bucky tried to focus. Really, he did. But with the feeling of your hand delicately trailing up and down his thigh underneath the table, his attention was starting to slip.

The sensation was so light at first that Bucky had almost dismissed it entirely. A quick glance at your face showed nothing unusual, and so he tried to refocus on the meeting and the details about the upcoming mission. Tony and the others carried on, none the wiser to Bucky’s confusion at the far end of the table.

But then there it was again. Slightly more pressure, and an inch further up his jeans. No, there was definitely something going on. He looked over at you again, tilting his head in curiosity. Studying you for a moment, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder. You were unusually still, your brows knitted together in keen focus. That wasn’t like you at all. Any other time, you’d be tapping a pen, bouncing your knee, drumming your fingertips on the wooden table. The constant need to fidget or shuffle around in your seat – no matter how much he loved you – drove him crazy. So what was going on? He couldn’t quite work it out.

The longer he looked at you, the more Bucky noticed the mischievous gleam in your eyes. It was the kind that you reserved for when you were alone together. But yet here you were, sat next to him in a meeting with some mysterious scheme running through your mind.

And then the next touch came. This time, a gentle squeeze on his crotch that was unmistakeable. That’s when Bucky realised that your hands were hidden, tucked out of sight.

He swallowed nervously. Oh God. It was you.

You noticed the change in his demeanour from confusion to surprise, as a small smirk played on your lips. You were brave, he had to give you that. He had to hold himself back from laughing at the idea of it all. Bucky was in disbelief at the audacity you had, but he was definitely not in a position to stop you. Keeping your eyes on Tony at the front of the room, you let your hand wander his lower body.  

His cheeks warmed as he felt himself begin to react beneath your touch. Cock stiffening more and more, he strained against the tight fabric of his boxers. Bucky squirmed, adjusting himself in his seat. The tiny movement pushed your hand further up, lingering right on his clothed shaft. Even beneath the thick denim of his jeans, the effect you had on him was becoming a growing problem. One that he couldn’t do a damn thing about. The smirk on your face grew, a fact that didn’t go amiss to Bucky. You were enjoying the control that you had in this situation. His jaw clenched tight at the realisation.

Any other time, you’d be underneath him, whining and whimpering whilst he loomed over you. His dog tags would be dangling in front of your face as he took his sweet time. He’d slip them between your lips, forcing you to be quiet as he teased your aching cunt for as long as he could stand before finally ravishing your body in the way that it deserved.

But now, Bucky was powerless. You knew his body like it was your own by now, and you didn’t need to look to know the way his cock would sit in his jeans. It didn’t take you long to find it, and as you did so your touch increased. You cupped your palm, cradling and squeezing as much of him as you possibly could. He sucked in a sharp breath. The chair legs squeaked whilst Bucky’s hips rutted, pushing his cock further  into your touch. You swiped over the spot where you knew his tip would be, and he mentally cursed at the drop of pre-cum that leaked out. The wet bead dampened his boxers as you spread it around with another gentle rub.

It was taking all of his restraint not to visibly react to what was going on. With darkening eyes, Bucky shot you a warning glare. If you carried on like this, he’d have no choice but to drag you out of your seat and bend you over the table so he could fuck you right here in front of everyone for daring to play with him. The image of him pinning your hands behind your back whilst he kept you in place to keep you from protesting flashed through his mind. These dirty thoughts sent Bucky into a hot spiral.

You slid your hand up and down his lap, squeezing in just the right places. His cock throbbed with a life of its own, yearning for more. Fuck. You weren’t even touching him and yet here he was, silently pleading with you to make him come.

Bucky rutted up into your hand, the head of his cock slipping through your grasp as you maintained steady contact. He wanted nothing more than to feel your soft hand wrapped around him, working up and down in careful strokes. To admire the sight of your pretty red lips parting before taking him deep in your throat. He’d hold your hair back, giving your wet tongue uninterrupted access to him in his most vulnerable state.

The current topic of the meeting was long forgotten as his thoughts revolved around you and only you. His heartbeat sped up, and Bucky could hear it ringing in his ears as the blood rushed from his head to his stiff length. He didn’t know it was possible to be this hard. Just from this small amount of teasing, it was nearly shameful how rock solid he was. Thin veins protruded up and down his swollen cock, rubbing against the cotton of his boxers. You were pushing his body to its limits in the best way.

Running your fingers up and down, his come swelled below the bulging tip. Bucky was so close. One more gentle squeeze of your hand was all that it would take to tip him over that edge you had brought him to.

He looked over at you, eyes glazed over, bottom lip trembling. The tension in his jaw eased as you urged him on to the release that he so desperately needed.

Please. Please let me come, doll.

You understood that pleading look in his eye right away. A subtle nod of your head was all the permission that Bucky needed. His teeth dug into his bottom lip to stifle a moan as he let go. You felt his thighs tense under the table. His hand flew to yours, the tight grip preventing you from overstimulating him in the moment. Bucky held your hand there still, and you felt the warmth of his come as it soaked through the layers of his clothing. And there was just so much of it. Streams of hot, sticky fluid coated his throbbing cock as he came down from the intimate high. For a moment, his eyelids fluttered shut as he revelled in the bliss of his emptied balls.

Finally, he released your hand and you pulled away. Whilst his boxers had caught most of the mess, a few stray beads had seeped through the material and onto your thumb. It shone under the harsh lighting, and Bucky’s eyes fell upon it at the same time that yours did. You looked up at him and without missing a beat, brought your thumb to your lips and sucked it off. The gesture happened too quickly for anyone else to notice, but it was all Bucky could focus on. How your cheeks hollowed out as you cleaned off his come. How wet your lips were as you licked over them. He chuckled softly at the whole ordeal. You were amazing.

His flushed cheeks returned to their normal colour as he relaxed. Letting out a slow breath, his shoulders fell back down, and his quick heart rate steadied. Sitting there in the mess you created, he couldn’t wait for to get you out of this room.

Not soon enough for Bucky’s liking, the meeting came to an end. Everyone began to gather up their things and clear out, but Bucky stayed there. Leaning back in his seat, he watched you talk mindlessly to Natasha like you hadn’t just gotten him off under the entire team’s nose. You said goodbye to Natasha as she left the two of you alone.

“So, what are we doing for the rest of today?” You asked casually, absentmindedly getting ready to leave yourself.

After a quiet moment, Bucky stood up. His hands slid over your hips and pulled you back into him. You gasped a little as he spun you around, keeping one arm tight around you. Lifting his other hand, he cupped your cheek, tearing your focus away from your bag on the table. Tension built in the quiet room at the small gesture. A cool metal finger traced over your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Well, you’re coming with me, and you’re going to clean up the mess you made.”

[angelltheninth]

Marvel Characters + Angst

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Kate Bishop, Carol Danvers, Tony Stark, Peter Parker x Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, injury, protectiveness, kissing, tears, cuddles

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I'm feelings angsty today and now you will too.

Steve has a hard time adjusting to a time of peace when he's known battle and wars for more time than most people. You can see he's always high strung, tense, like he's waiting for something to go wrong. Because of this you can't relax either, despite him telling you that you should. He can't take his own advice. No matter what activity you do together there's that voice at the back of his head that's telling him he has to be ready for action at any moment, he needs to protect you at all times.

Bucky often has nightmares of the things he was forced to do under Hydra's command. When you're not there he can have several sleepless nights but he claims that he's used to getting little to no sleep so there's no need for you to worry about him. Usually he has to be convinced to sleep without his prosthetic arm since he can experience phantom pain without it but he's also more likely to have nightmares with it on. He likes you comforting him when he keeps his head on your lap and you gently run your fingers through his hair.

Sam has had a lot on his plate lately, being the new Captain America and trying to balance that new life with dating you. Sometimes you overhear him talking on the phone, frustrated with whoever is on the other end, and himself for not being with you more. This could lead to a break up if he isn't careful, he doesn't think you'd leave hum but at the same time he thinks you deserve a boyfriend who is always there for you. All these doubts creep into his head even when you tell him you love him more than anyone, he just has to believe those words.

Natasha often hides her feelings of sadness and doubt from you, to a Black Widow it's not a hard task at all. Except you know your girlfriend well enough by now to be able to tell when she's keeping things from you. She doesn't want to, she really doesn't, usually she's happy to share things from her past with you, even the bad, because she wants you to know what you're getting into. Still when she thinks you might get hurt because of her old enemies she makes sure to work extra hard to be able to protect you from any threat.

Clint was a much cockier man when you first started dating, but the years of superhero work and the years you spent apart changed him. There were still parts of him that were the same, parts of the man you fell in love with but there was also the darker parts that he insisted on keeping from you. He always keeps you close at night, his grip tight, scared that you might slip from his fingers if he lets go. The last thing he wants is to give you a reason to leave him again, he wouldn't be able to handle another life without you in it.

Kate was really excited to tell you about her new role as an Avenger, sort of, she's a protégé of her favorite Avenger so close enough. You were happy to see her happy but of course you reminded her that she needed to be careful when she was going on patrol or missions. Of course you expected that she would get a few bruises and injuries here and there, what you didn't expect is for her to turn up at your doorstep barely able to stand on her own. She kept telling you it's not that bad but when she can't even kiss without wincing it's pretty bad.

Carol doesn't really date, she never has, all she had were on and off relationships, some who lasted longer some who were pretty short. With her constant moving around space that was what she figured was best for her emotions and anyone she gets with, no expectations, just honesty. She really hated that she started to like you as much as she did. It complicated everything, she wanted to spend all her free time with you, and you with her, you managed to tear down all the walls she put around herself.

Tony is well known for being a playboy but when he started dating you it was obvious that he was getting more than a little emotionally invested. He started calling you whenever he was free, flirting, telling you he missed the sound of your voice. The first thing he'd do when he was done with work was visit you, showering you with affection, kisses, gifts, anything you want. No matter what the press say he is fully enamored with you, he only hopes you take him seriously and don't feel like he's playing with you for the fun of it.

Peter got a lot more protective of you when you started dating. On the surface he was still the happy, bubbly guy that charmed his way into your heart but underneath he was getting more and more anxious. Torn between telling you his identity and keeping it a secret since he knew how bad that could end, and he certainly didn't want to put you in danger by knowing his secret. However keeping a secret began to take a tole on him, he began making mistakes, getting hurt, and eventually getting caught by you.

[two-white-butterflies]

do i wanna know? | m33

Description: Max Verstappen begins dating Tony Stark's daughter.

Pairing: max verstappen/nepo-baby!reader

y/n_stark: happy father's day, so much to be thankful for ✨ tagged: tony

192 comments 182,390 likes

tonystarkisasigma: #1 alpha male

maxverstappen1: Happy Father's Day - f1forzaferrari: ariana what r u doing here 💀

schecoperez: ¡Feliz Día del Padre! - ilikesmootheis19: BYEE WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE

danielricciardo: pls tell ur dad to give me a seat 😇 - y/n_stark: will do!

yukitsunoda0511: happy birthday

alonsohamiltonworld: friendly reminder that tony stark owns redbull and alpha tauri, that's why the drivers are kissing his @ss

Y/N STARK ALLEGEDLY DATING AN F1 DRIVER. by deuxmoi (podcast)

Deuxmoi: So allegedly a famous billionaire superhero nepo-baby is dating an F1 racer. My bets are on Y/N Stark, because her dad is the only superhero with kids. As for the F1 racer, we're not sure - some people in my dms say that it's Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc or Max Verstappen.

y/n_stark: first time in the redbull garage, totally in awe ✨

928 comments 128,349 likes

maxverstappen1: 💙🧡 #OrangeArmy

landonorris: aww missing you here - ynfans: YA'LL BE SAYING IT'S CHARLES, DANIEL AND MAX BUT IT'S OBVIOUSLY LANDO BYEE

tony: ❤️🔥

ynfans: a thread on how y/n stark is dating lando norris

Y/N was in England the same time Lando was in England. (picture proof: she's the one who took the photo)

2. Lando commented "aww missing you here" to her post 3. They would make a cute couple. I rest my case.

9 comments 100 likes

carlandoisbae: bitch bffr

grimes49r: "(shes the one who took the photo)" girl just kys 😭 they're obviously not dating

y/nfans: ok, if she's not dating lando then she's dating charles ya'll stfu because idgaf

avengersassembleconspirancy: I'm praying for the driver that manages to date iron-man's daughter.

10 comments 1,293 likes 12 retweets

peterparker1001: praying for max verstappen 😁 - ynismymommy: I CHECKED HIS PROFILE? HE INTERNS FOR TONY STARK, AND THEY'RE LIKE CLOSE CLOSE 😭 - ilovecaptainamerica: someone is getting fired 💀🤣

y/n_stark: since the cat is out of the basket 🤷🏻‍♀️💕 tagged: maxverstappen1

2911 comments 292,201 likes

maxverstappen1: 🧡💙

peterparker1001: really sorry mr verstappen 😕

starkfashion: how did ur dad react? - y/n_stark: we'll know in a few minutes 💗💕

tony: I feel sorry, - peonysandsuid: me too, she deserves better -- tony: for Max

maxverstappen1: Cheers to more laughter ✨ my lucky charm ❤️ tagged: y/n_stark, tony, redbullracing

819 comments 912,384 likes

carlandolover: bro tagged his entire family 🥶

verstappenleclercbonus: bro isn't scared of tony stark 🥶

y/n_stark: handsome and spectacular 💕

danielricciardo: aww cheers mate 🥂

lokiandthorareinnocent: bro said, i'm the boss now 🥶

AITA FOR ACCIDENTALLY EXPOSING MY BEST FRIEND'S RELATIONSHIP?

I, student, M have a friend - 23, F, and she's been in a relationship with a very famous guy for over a year now. She's very private and lowkey with all the things that she does. Now, instead of using my alternate account in commenting something - I used my real account and their relationship got exposed. She tells me that it's perfectly fine and that she doesn't blame me but I feel really bad. AITA?

3 upvotes

aragornofmirkwood: nta divorce the alternate account

benelopecruz: if she says that she doesn't blaim you, nta

maxverstappenisnomber1 max verstappen after pulling tony stark's daughter

starkfamily99 tony stark after a broke man *worth $60 million* dates his daughter

starkfamilyisworld how i imagine tony talking to max: "100 Million, stay away from my daughter"

y/n_stark: SMASH. WAIT WHAT WAS THE GAME?

193 comments 293,129 likes

y.nbutterflyworld: this is how i know tony stark is a good dad 😭 his daughter's type is SO far away from what he looks like. Sis has no daddy issues fr 😭

next part

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Mile High Club

Pairing ⇒ Boyfriend!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Avenger!Fem!Reader

Word count ⇒ 2.5K

Summary ⇒ You and Tony have been in a secret relationship for the past seven months, and you're being sent on the first mission for just the two of you since you've become an Avenger. Seeing how the two of you will have nothing but time during the long flight to the other side of the world, he wants nothing more than to make you a part of the Mile High Club.

Rating ⇒ Explicit (E)

Warnings/Tags ⇒ Established relationship, age gap (~ 10 years), secret relationship, use of nicknames (Gorgeous, Babygirl)

Smut ⇒ Dirty talk, daddy kink, hair pulling, nipple play, fingering, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), belly bulge, spanking, squirting, creampie, cockwarming

A/n ⇒ This fic is a little gift from the heart for my bestie @ccbsrmsf1. I'm very proud of you for everything you're going through, and you deserve a delicious treat with our man! I love you so much and want to thank you for everything you do for me. You're the most fantastic person I know, and I'm blessed to know someone like you! 💙

A/n 2.0 ⇒ This isn't proofread. Any and all mistakes are my own. My requests are open again! Please feel free to send them for each person or character I write for, and I can't wait to see what amazing ideas you'll all come up with! 💙

Events Masterlist ⇒ @flufftober Flufftober '23 ⇒ Love of my life Masterlist ⇒ @buckys-wintersoldier ⇒ ''Is it okay if I fall asleep here?" Masterlist ⇒ @anyfandomkinkbingo ⇒ Secret relationship

Banners: Yours truly ⇒ Divider: @firefly-graphics ⇒ GIF: Source

Main Masterlist ⇒ Tony Stark Masterlist

Ever since moving to New York, you've dreamt of becoming an Avenger and worked hard to reach that goal. Now, almost three years later, you're also in a relationship with the man you've been crushing on since you became aware of his existence, Tony Stark. The two of you have been together for over seven months, but you have kept it a secret.

''Are you ready to go, Gorgeous?" Tony practically purrs in your ear as you strap the last knife to your tactical suit, ready for everything that could come your way. A broad smile spreads across your features, and Tony can't help but smile right along with you. The way your eyes sparkle when you look back at him doesn't go unnoticed by him, and he leans in for a kiss when the door suddenly swings open. You both pull away quickly and act nonchalant, hoping whoever opened the door didn't see the two of you almost lock lips.

You're relieved when you see it's just Steve, and you sigh before saying hi to Steve and leaving the weapons room to get the Quinjet ready for your mission. He wishes you good luck during the mission, and with that, you're off to do your job, shortly followed by Tony. While waiting for the elevator, he catches up with you, slightly out of breath.

"Really? Are you already out of breath? You need to work on that, old man!" you joke teasingly, though it only earns you a glare that has you laughing loudly. When Tony hears it, he can't help but smile, his heart skipping a beat as he lets the thought go through his mind that you're his. He feels like the luckiest man on earth, and he can't wait to put a beautiful ring on your finger and call you his wife.

The elevator dings before the doors slide open smoothly, allowing you both to enter. As soon as the doors close, Tony gently pushes you against the wall before capturing your lips with his, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip to ask for entrance. You gladly open your mouth, letting your tongues fight for dominance, which he ultimately wins.

When he finally pulls away, you're left breathless, and he can't help but make a teasing remark on it.

"Really? Are you already out of breath?" he asks, and you give him a smack against his upper arm, though you don't mind it when he teases you.

"You're lucky you're cute, Stark," is all you say before getting off the elevator when you reach your destination. The butterflies in both your stomachs are going crazy. You and Tony are also in great moods more often, which hasn't gone unnoticed by your teammates. They all secretly have a bet about how long it will take for the two of you to come out with your secret, but despite that, they're all happy for you two, even if they can't show it. Yet.

Not even twenty minutes later, the Quinjet is in the air, and you're quietly sitting in your chair next to Tony as he controls the enormous aircraft with expert skills. While he's focused on what's happening outside, you're buried with your nose in the book you brought while holding Tony's hand. Now that it's just the two of you, a comfortable silence has fallen on the jet, and you're happy to be in each other's company, not having to worry about anything or anyone seeing you.

That is until Tony suddenly breaks the silence, accidentally scaring you just when the story of your book gets interesting.

''Shall we make this flight more interesting?" he asks, and you jump at the interruption, making him laugh loudly. It wasn't his intention to scare you, but now that it happened, he can't help but laugh.

"Sorry, Gorgeous, I didn't mean to scare you,'' he tells you as he brings your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles that has you blushing deeply within seconds and your panties flooding with arousal all at the same time. He always has this effect on you, though you're never one to complain.

"You were saying something about making this flight more interesting?" a brow quirked as you looked at him curiously.

"Have you ever heard of the Mile High Club?" Tony asks with a serious expression as he looks at you. Even though you've heard of it, you never even thought about actually doing it - until now. The thought of having sex with Tony in the flying Quinjet is highly appealing, and you nod in response. Before you know it, the plane is on autopilot, and Tony is turning his chair, inviting you onto his lap.

''C'mere Gorgeous," he says, and you happily get up to straddle his thighs. The chair is wide enough to fit both of you, and his hands are lying on your hips as you put your arms over his shoulders, your fingers gently running through the hair on the nape of his neck. As you look into his deep, dark brown eyes, you can't help but smile, thinking how fortunate you are to be here with the man you love and who you can't wait to grow old with.

You lean forward to press your lips against his, and the kiss turns heated and passionate soon, leaving you both breathless when you pull away. Your eyes are half-lidded when you look at him, the arousal you're feeling now making you feel like you're not even in your own body anymore. You give yourself entirely to Tony and his intoxicating touches and taste, never getting enough of them.

Tony's cock is straining painfully against the zipper of his pants right now, and all he wants is to be freed from the confinements of the denim, ready to be worshipped by you. Whether it is with your mouth or pussy is something he isn't picky about; all he knows is that he wants to be enveloped by the warmth he loves so much.

"Let's get out of these clothes, Gorgeous; it'll be a lot more comfortable that way," he tells you, and you get up, ready to strip off every last piece of tactical gear you're wearing. When you're left in just your sports bra and panties, Tony stops you, wanting to help you take the last two pieces of fabric off your body.

His hands glide up from your waist to the back of your bra, unhooking it before letting it fall to the floor and exposing your breasts. Your nipples instantly pebble at the chilliness as they're met with the cool air, but Tony's lips wrap around one of them, sucking and biting ever so gently, his other hand tugging and rolling the other as slight moans escape your lips.

Your mouth goes slack with pleasure as he switches between your two sensitive buds, and you gasp when you feel two of his thick, strong fingers rubbing your clit over your soaked panties, spreading your legs on instinct to give him more room.

"D-Daddy!" you exclaim, and Tony looks up at you as a wicked grin spreads over his features, knowing he has you exactly where he wants you. A moan slips out as he puts slight pressure on your clit, a gush of arousal ruining your panties even further.

''Such a good girl for Daddy right now, but you want more, don't you? You want Daddy's fingers inside your delicious, tight, warm pussy, isn't that right?" he asks you, and all you can do is nod and whine when you feel his fingers leave your clit, and you're clenching around nothing. It doesn't take long for Tony to rip off the fabric of your underwear and shove it into his back pocket.

You look up at him with curiosity about his next move, but he doesn't say a single word as he turns the two of you around and pushes you into the chair he sat in not too long ago.

''Spread those beautiful legs for me, Gorgeous; let Daddy have his feast," he orders, and you do as Tony gets onto his knees, his hands resting on your inner thighs as he moves closer to your dripping pussy. You clench around nothing as he lets out a deep breath, the warmth having you arch your back as it makes contact with your sensitive heat.

''Look at that, Gorgeous, such a beautiful, delicious pussy for me," he says as he hooks both your legs over his shoulders, creating the perfect space for him to be buried between your thighs. He eyes your pussy hungrily as your hands glide into his hair, pulling him towards your needy, dripping pussy. When his tongue makes contact with your flesh, you let out an almost obscene moan as you pull his hair hard.

He groans against your pussy as he starts eating you out vigorously, your combined moans and groans filling up the room at the jet, which is still flying without a single problem. Tony alternates between fucking your entrance with his tongue and sucking on your clit, building up your high, until he suddenly plunges two fingers into your pussy at a fast pace.

''Oh fuck, Daddy! 'M cumming!" you let him know, pulling him even closer with a loud moan as he works you up to your orgasm, which washes over you not long after, your legs trembling and your back arching as he works you through it until you're nearing overstimulation, but he stops right on time.

''I can't believe you're such a good girl for me today, though I don't think I'll ever want to get used to you being such a submissive girl for me,'' he says with a wink, referencing the fact that he is more than happy to have you take the lead in the bedroom too.

'''s your turn, Daddy!" you tell him with a soft, whiny voice as you look at how hard he's straining against his jeans, wanting to taste him.

''Another time, Babygirl, right now Daddy wants to be buried deep inside this pussy of yours,'' he tells you before quickly undressing and helping you up to have you sit on his lap again, his cock trapped between your stomachs. He's so long that he reaches a good few inches above your belly button, and you love how deep he goes when he fucks you, though you rarely take him like this as it has been a challenge in the past.

"I want to stretch your pussy so badly, Gorgeous; I want you to be wrapped around my cock as I split you open, filling you up with cum until it drips out of you before fucking it all right back in with my fingers. How does that sound?" he asks in a low, rumbling voice, and you instantly nod yes, wanting all that and more.

You lift yourself as you brace yourself on his shoulders, allowing him to line himself up with your pussy before lowering your body onto him. A deep, long moan escapes you when you feel the stretch of his long, thick, and veiny cock you love so much. His hands on your hips carefully glide you down as you sink, and before you know it, you're taking him completely.

''Fuck! Look at that, Gorgeous; I'm so fucking deep inside this pussy that we can see me in your belly," he says with a wicked smile on his lips before taking his hand and pushing slightly on your belly, making you moan loudly at the pleasure coursing through your body.

The hands that were previously on your hips have slid back to your ass, which is exposed perfectly now that you're straddling his lap, and he lands a spank on both cheeks simultaneously, only adding to your arousal. You jerk forward, making a rolling move with your hips that has both you and Tony moaning as you sink again.

His hands help guide you as you slowly start to move up and down, the slight burn quickly subsiding as your hips meet his thighs before going up again, repeating the motion over and over again. The pleasure is building up fast, and the fact that you know you're miles high in the air together only adds to your enjoyment.

"We should go on missions together more often, don't you think? God, I would love to rail my pussy all over the world and high in the sky. Can never get enough of you, Gorgeous; I love you and your pussy so much," he purrs into your ear, your head leaning against his shoulder.

Suddenly, he picks up the pace, your pleasure intensifying immensely. Moans, groans, and the sounds of skin slapping against the skin are all that can be heard as you lift your head to kiss Tony, but it's nothing more than a sloppy kiss as you're nearing your orgasm that's building up at a rapid pace.

''Daddy, want to cum! Please, may I cum?" you ask, bordering on begging at this point. He groans out his permission as he fucks up into you, his cock completely slick from all your juices, making a squelching sound that has you grinning widely. The pleasure only Tony knows how to give you is intoxicating, and you want more of it until it comes to a high, and you squeeze his cock when you cum.

With a scream of his name, you cum on his cock, your juices squirting out during a prolonged orgasm while Tony keeps fucking into you. Not long after, Tony cums, too, with a groan of your name, spilling every last drop of his cum inside your pussy, until his balls are empty.

You're both coming down from your highs as you're panting, catching your breaths after the exercise you've just gotten. Sex with Tony always feels nothing short of amazing, but when you're this high in the air with the man you love, your pleasure is multiplied tenfold, and you want to do it again.

You lean forward to capture his lips in a soft, gentle kiss, your nails scratching his facial hair. When a few more pecks have been exchanged, you pull back to look at him through half-lidded eyes. You always knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, but this moment made it official. The look of love on Tony's face is one you will never get enough of, and just when you want to tell him that, a yawn escapes.

''Is it okay if I fall asleep here?" you ask sheepishly, his cock still buried deep inside you after you've both cum down from your shared orgasms. With a soft hum, he lets you know it's okay, and he turns his chair, taking the jet off autopilot and back to steering it himself. There are still over seven hours of the flight left, and he's more than happy to spend a big part of him with you cockwarming him.

''I love you, Gorgeous," he whispers against your hair when you're almost asleep, and all you do is smile in response before letting the sleep take over. Sleeping in his arms is one of your favorite things to do, as you know you'll be safe in the arms of the love of your life.

[missvelvetsstuff]

No Benefits

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.

Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.

Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon

Chapter 11

Warnings: swearing, angst

Notes: this chapter came out shorter than I'd like but this updates only a few days late. Hope y'all enjoy.

Life at the compound went on but with the 'punishments' Fury and Hill assigned everyone was too busy to do much else. Training, chores, therapy and sleep were all Bucky had the time or energy for but he made sure to write to Cookie every day, even though some days there wasn't much to say.

Two weeks after the meeting with Fury, Bucky was eating lunch with Sam, who nagged him more than Steve, so he had learned to tune him out. One of the admins walked by with Avengers mail and Bucky was shocked to get something. He wasn't the most popular Avenger so rarely had any fan mail. He took the envelope from the admin and looked at it with wide eyes. He gasped when he saw who it was from and felt his heart racing. It was kinda lumpy, like there was more than just a letter. His stomach dropped when he assumed she was returning his dog tags and he set it down on the table, afraid to open it.

Sam looked over "You might as well tear off that bandaid and get it over with. How much worse could it be?"

Bucky looked at him with sad eyes. "She could be telling me she never wants anything to do with me. Not that I don't deserve it but right now I still have hope. Like Schroedingers cat, right now our friendship is alive and dead at the same time but once I open it, it'll be one or the other."

Sam chuckled "You're not wrong but you can't pretend forever. Maybe she's asking for something from you but if you don't read it you won't give it to her and she'll think you don't really care."

Bucky nodded "Yeah, I guess. I'll open it tonight."

Bucky spent the rest of the day acutely aware of the envelope in his back pocket, reaching back to touch it and make sure it was still there, like a talisman helping him through the day.

Once the work for the day was done he went to his room, locked the door and stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers to get comfortable on his bed. He picked up the envelope and examined it thoroughly, he could just barely catch the scent of her lavender hand lotion on it.

After 20 minutes he decided he had gleaned all the info he could without opening the envelope and with shaking hands, carefully opened it. He pulled the paper out and when he unfolded it, something fell into his lap. The special dog tags that Sam had given him as a joke and a picture.

He picked up the picture and felt like his heart stopped when he realized it was Cookie, smirking at him with his own dog tags nestled in her cleavage. Not a scrap of clothing in sight. His mouth went dry and he felt hot. He took a drink of water before looking at the paper.

Dear Bucky,

Let me know what you think of the picture. I think the enclosed tags would look good on you, if you want to wear them. I wouldn't mind a picture.

XO,

Cookie

Bucky fumbled to take his shirt off and put the tags on before taking a blurry picture. He looked at his phone, dissatisfied with his selfie skills, or lack of, and spent an hour before he was happy with the results. Now he had to figure out how to print it without asking for help, or find someone who could help and keep a secret from Sam. Steve was worse with tech than he was and he knew Nat or Sharon would make a big deal. As he went down the list in his head he wondered if Cookie would mind if he attached it to an email.

Bucky sighed and opened up his laptop to search for directions on how to print something from his phone and looked at Starks intranet to find the closest color printer to his room.

It took half the night but he finally had a clear, color picture to send to Cookie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks rolled by quickly as Cookie whipped the Boston office into shape, much to Dylan's chagrin. She spent the days working closely with Annie, evaluating the rest of the team to see where there were weaknesses so they could work on training them all up to where they needed to be. The fact that Dylan resented her aside, he had enjoyed his "management" of this office by doing nothing but lording over the rest of the team and overusing his expense account, without paying attention to their skills or lack thereof.

Cookie made herself a note to bring up Dylan's uselessness with Nick Fury and recommend cutting him loose or transferring him to a position with less authority and responsibility. She planned to push for Annie to run this office when she left.

She was working on a full report on the office and was very glad she had moved here to see in person how things ran because she never would have known how badly Dylan was slacking off.

In her conclusions she pondered spending the next couple of years hopping from office to office, to do the same. It would take longer to get back to the compound than she wanted but she felt it would be the best for SHIELD/SWORD's intel apparatus, which was her job.

In the evenings she went back to her townhouse to eat alone, watch the news and read Bucky's letters. He was ever so slowly wearing her down. It wasn't hard, she missed her best friend and never stopped loving him.

Dear Cookie,

I hope you are good and haven't gotten tired of hearing from me. I haven't heard anything back so I don't know if you're reading them or just tossing them in the fire.

Life is mostly back to normal. Fury yelled at us for 3 hours about you this morning, he's not happy you're gone. Everyone misses you. Maybe not Nat and Sharon but at least they are finally leaving me alone.

Tony keeps bitching about his favorite cookies but I know he misses you.

Steve is in his element, being the disapproving dad to all us difficult kids. If he doesn't get over himself I might have to kick his ass.

Sam misses you. I know he talks to you on the phone a lot and he's irritating as hell, making sure to let me know it's my fault you left, like I didn't already know that. I wish I knew how to fix things and make you want to come home but I'm not that bright, obviously, so I'll keep writing until you tell me to stop.

Fury is being even more of an impossible prick than usual. He cancelled all leave and has us doing extra training and chores around the compound like we're grounded teenagers. It's exhausting but it keeps me busy between missions. Doesn't stop me from thinking about you every day.

I understand that you might not want to wear my dog tags but if you don't want them could you send them back? They're all I have left of my past.

I hope to hear from you soon.

All my love,

JBB

Like every night since she started reading Bucky's letters, Cookie fell asleep clutching his dog tags and that nights letter to her chest.

@erelierraceala @capswife @ozwriterchick @cjand10 @wintrsoldrluvr @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @browneyedgrli @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hhiggs @dontworryboutitsweetheart-blog @behindmygreyeyes @pattiemac1 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @calwitch @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @ordelixx @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scott-loki-barnes @selella @hiireadstuff @winterschildren8

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M, M/M Fandoms: X-Men - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Avengers (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel (Comics) Relationships: Logan & Scott Summers, Logan/Scott Summers Characters: Logan (X-Men), Scott Summers, Bruce Banner, Bobby Drake, Kitty Pryde, Ororo Munroe, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Tony Stark, Emma Frost, Steve Rogers, Helen Cho (Marvel), Jarvis (Iron Man movies) Additional Tags: Trans Kitty Pryde, Gay Bobby Drake, Minor Bobby Drake/Kitty Pryde, Minor Emma Frost/Tony Stark, Not Charles Xavier Friendly, Not Jean Grey Friendly, Charles Xavier Being an Asshole, Jean Grey Being an Asshole, Transphobic Charles Xavier, Transphobic Jean Grey, Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, Hurt Scott Summers, Scott Summers Needs A Hug, Bisexual Scott Summers, Bisexual Logan (X-Men), Protective Logan (X-Men), Protective Tony Stark, BAMF Emma Frost, Aftermath of Violence, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Protective Avengers, Hugs, Protective Bruce Banner, Sleepy Cuddles, BAMF Logan (X-Men), Swearing, Touch-Starved, Scars, Logan Has a Heart (X-Men) Language: English Collections: Scogan Bingo Collections Published: 2024-08-14 Words: 8,498 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Logan gathers a small team to help Scott tackle a problem in the Bronx, but when they find Scott, he's all cut up and bruised and left damn near for dead. With Emma's and the Avengers' help, they take him to the Avengers Tower for medical care and recovery, and Logan doesn't leave Scott's side for most of it. It's during this time that he realizes he can't hide his feelings anymore for his teammate and sometimes-rival.

Notes:

For @scottxlogan and for @scoganbingo

Scogan Bingo R1, Square I1: Touch-Starved “I need to remember what hugs feel like,” and B4: Traces a scar on lover’s body

From Prompts for couples that aren’t together yet: Pick your duos: Taking on more responsibility so their love interest can rest (Scottxlogan)

Title from The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel

Video.

[seikkoi]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ [2, 3] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 13k for parts 1+2 a/n: two weeks of brainrot later

The reflection in the tall store mirror looks like a mirage—an almost tangible fantasy. It’s you—enough, your eyes, nose, skin and hair. But the fabric wrapped around your body, a breath-taking sanguine hue, it distorts your perception. 

You stood in silence, captivated by your own self-reflection. A delicate diamond necklace adorned your neck, its shimmer accentuating the sparkle in your eyes. You touch it delicately, trying to make the woman in the mirror feel real. 

In a fleeting moment, you try not to think about the price tag on either item. Below you, the dress slits at your right thigh, stopping perfectly just before your ankles. You typically abhor dresses, frustrated by how they sit on your hips or pull on your shoulders. Yet this one felt different, as was crafted just for you, hugging your short frame.

“Do you not like it?” Tony's firm voice interrupted your reverie, seated in a plush armchair nestled in the corner of the dressing area. 

His own reflection caught your eye in the mirror. He too was impeccably dressed in expense— a midnight suit that mirrored the shadowy desire in his eyes. It was only then that you noticed the crimson tie around his neck, perfectly matched to your dress. A forgotten pit in your stomach sinks further at the realization.

You weren’t here exactly by choice. You’d met Tony a few weeks ago while bartending and since then, he hadn’t left you alone. Initially, he had left his phone number scrawled on a napkin, which you promptly ignored. Such advances from inebriated, lonesome men were all too familiar— their attempts at wooing the bartender often aimed at securing complimentary drinks or borne from relationship troubles that had led them to the bar in the first place.

They all normally moved on after one night, but not Tony. 

Tony came back three nights in a row after, making pass after pass, calling you doll and honey through whiskey-tinted lips. You had been polite in declining him, partly because you had googled him after a $300 tip on the second night and realized who he was (some hot-shot CEO with a few legal issues you chose not to look into). But also because, against your better judgment, a small, insignificant part of you didn't want to decline. His appearance in the bar made your night infinitely more enjoyable. Funny enough, you’re certain his charisma was so enigmatic it spread the room and raised everyone’s mood. 

Unlike your typical patrons, Tony possessed an undeniable allure, an allure that kept you talking and pouring drinks—well past closing time. Perhaps because your usual patrons didn't leave extravagant tips or wear thousand-dollar watches. More likely, was how easy it was to talk to him about anything . Local politics, the nature of friendship, European art- it didn’t matter. 

On top of it all, there was no denying how attractive he was—towering over you with silk ties and shiny grins. Despite whatever attraction you held, you knew better than to get involved with him. Something told you he wasn’t worth the trouble, not to mention he was almost 20 years your senior. 

Still, every night ended the same, with Tony insisting he take you on just one date. You’d give a kind smile, flip the sign to closed , and craft a polite but convoluted (and reluctant) excuse. This passive resistance only seemed to encourage him, possibly because he saw through you, recognizing that tiny part of you that longed to say yes.

Maybe it’s what gave him carte blanche to wait outside on the fourth night until you closed the bar—alone. 

As you stepped into the cool night air, a sleek black car glided to a halt beside you. You thought nothing of it, locking the door behind you and starting your usual, albeit long, trek home. You glanced back at the sound of the passenger window rolling down, revealing Tony leaning over the center console, a playful smile on his face. Quieting the alarm bells in your head, you offered a curt wave and resumed your stride.

As you do, Tony calls out your name, gesturing you over. At the time, you hoped all he wanted to do was exchange some small talk or maybe he left something in the bar yesterday. You couldn't fathom why you obeyed, heading towards the open window instead of heading home. Just like now, Tony's true intentions were unknown. You convinced yourself that the worst he could do was ask you out again and make things awkward.

“Miss me?” he asks with that same flashy grin. His gaze roams over your simple jeans and t-shirt, heavy enough to make you feel exposed.

“Everything okay?” You choose to ignore his question to hopefully get to the reason he’s here after hours. 

Under the parking lot’s harsh fluorescent lights, Tony's disappointment shines. 

"Everything's fine," he replied in a sing-song tone, reaching across to open the passenger door. "Come on, let me give you a ride home."

The alarm bells grow louder, leaving you to stammer over your words.

“That’s generous, thank you, but I enjoy the walk.” A good lie holds a little truth to it, right?

Tony does a disapproving, almost condescending tsk , patting the empty leather seat. 

“Now, what kind of guy would I be if I let a pretty girl like you walk home all alone?”

Despite the rhetorical nature of his question, you struggled to resist the urge to retort, to point out that allowing you to walk home alone would make him appear rather ordinary—a quality he clearly sought to avoid.

“Really, I’m fine, thank you.” You try to sound more assertive this time, but your voice still wavers under his gaze.

Tony continues to insist, using every persuasion tactic in the book. Your mind whirled with a flurry of thoughts and possibilities. After all, he was a familiar face, a regular patron who had never made you necessarily afraid (normally quite the opposite). And a highly respected businessman. Plus, eight hours of tending bar left your feet aching. You did like the solemnity of the long walk, but tonight you were dreading it a bit more than usual.

What was the worst that could happen?

So, you inevitably gave in, watching his smirk stretch into another toothy grin as you opened the passenger door. Tony’s cologne saturated the plush leather interior, filling every corner of your nostrils with bergamot. In the dim car, you grant him a meek smile.

“That’s my girl,”

There’s an edge in his words, suddenly forcing you to wonder if you were better off walking. You tell yourself he’s a handsome billionaire doing his charitable act for the week-nothing more. 

Tony reaches for the gearshift, rolling your window up and muffling the sounds of the city. 

“Let’s get you home.”

The worst turned out to be not so bad—still stunned by your own beauty in the mirror. 

At first, you were nearly mortified when you noticed Tony’s route doesn’t quite follow the directions you gave. With a dry throat and skipping heart, you struggled to find the right words. Tony had remained unusually silent, not making witty quips or heavy-handed compliments. It worsened your unease. One he must have sensed, glancing over at you.

“Don’t worry,” he draws out, making yet another unknown turn. “I’m taking you home— just have a surprise for you first, dear.” he finishes, winking. 

The vulnerability you knew you had—getting in this car alone with him—it swelled in your throat.

Now, you stared at that same throat, adorned with shimmering diamonds. 

Tony’s surprise turned out to be a private fitting at some lavish boutique you never knew existed. 

You tried to protest as the car pulled into the storefront, noticing a lack of light inside and still cautious about what he had planned. Tony simply gave you a stern shush, and pointed your attention back to the building. Then, to your astonishment, the windows filled with orange and white hue. Out of the ornate glass doors, a tall, blonde-haired woman peered, and a wave of fear suddenly ebbed away from your body, only to be replaced by a flood of bewildering confusion.

The blonde woman, whose name you can’t pronounce, devotes a half hour measuring every aspect of your body. She swatched an array of dark hues and fabrics against your skin, contorted and posed you in every conceivable manner. Despite the weird, yet so far, non-hazardous situation you were in, a cloud of confusion still clung to your thoughts, while Tony remained outside the dressing room. 

Even still, you felt entirely too exposed, waiting anxiously. Your only recourse was to gaze at the marble ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell Tony was playing at. He wasn’t particularly eccentric all those nights at your bar, you figured he had to be more level-headed and reasonable than this. 

The woman eventually reappeared, holding the tight red dress on a satin hanger.

Leading to your mesmerized trance, still engulfed in the mirage before you.

“Hey, talking to you there.” 

Startled, you had forgotten he'd even asked you a question. Hell, you had forgotten he brought you here at all. Worse, you didn’t know what to say. The honest answer was an unequivocal yes – you adored the dress, but you knew alone it cost more than you ever made bartending, not to mention the necklace. 

The pit in your stomach churned at the reminder of Tony’s presence. The beauty you saw in the mirror suddenly felt ill-gotten- like a bill you hadn’t paid. Technically, you were brought here against your will by a man who you, although reluctantly, rejected. An unforeseen product of his infectious smile and your polite demeanor. 

You reluctantly turn slightly to face him, trying to find the words to get out of this without escalation. A shiver ran down your spine as his molten gaze traversed your form, causing your face to warm.

“I think you look stunning.” he says, gaze still fixed on your body. It wasn’t unusual for Tony to compliment you, as he often did at the bar regardless of whatever tired, stained state you were in. This time though, with the way he’s staring, it does something else to you.

“Thank you, but,” you trail off, stealing a quick glance back in the mirror. “I–It’s a bit out of my price range.”

Tony scoffs playfully, giving a dismissive wave as he rises from the armchair.

“It’s on me.” he declared, slow and deliberate as your nerves spike.

“Really, thank you, but I can’t accept this. I should be getting home.” you stammered, attempting to keep a level voice.

Your words tumbled out in a rush, but Tony continued, making your heartbeat escalate with each passing moment. 

To your surprise, he stops his advance to sigh at your anxious form. 

“ You are worth a million times that dress and more.” 

You avert your eyes to the floor, left again without the right words to maneuver out of this awkward conversation and trying to ignore the heat on your skin.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, doll.” Tony’s voice shifts to an unfamiliar tone, one that forces your head up.

“What’s with the whole ‘ uninterested ’ act?” he hums, resuming his walk towards you.

You stammer, trying to deny his accusation, knowing wholeheartedly he was right. Tony came to a stop in front of you, reaching out to caress your shoulder. As you instinctively recoil from his sudden touch, his calloused hand stiffened to hold you in place. 

“I’m not acting .” you finally manage with a wavering voice valiantly ignoring the want and fear his touch stirred in you.

“Oh, is that so?” he taunts sourly, bringing his free hand to your waist. “Why’d you get in the car then? Why are you letting me touch you?”

You don’t have an excuse for that one, staring back at Tony in silence. You could try and hate his arrogance, but that hasn't worked so far, so no point trying now. 

“Just take me home, okay?” you whisper, eyes flickering between Tony’s hand and his slightly parted lips.

He makes a face at your words, eyebrows scrunching and mouth turning into frown. 

“You think I’d hurt you?” Tony sighs, offended. He releases your arm out of his grasp and steps back from you. Still, he maintains the closeness between you, still locked on your eyes.

Instantly, you feel terrible for assuming the worst. Sure, you didn’t exactly ask for any of this, and maybe he was persistent, but all he had done was give you a dress and a ride home. Tony had ample opportunity to do whatever he wanted, and you were fine. And nothing he’d said had been wrong . So what exactly were you worried about?

“No, no,” you quickly scramble, shaking your head. “I just—what do you want from me?”

Tony sighs again, this time deeply, shoving his hands into his suit pockets. “Told you—a date, that’s all.”

“Really? You’re really doing all this just to take me out?” You asked in confusion. 

“You keep saying no even though I can tell you want to. ‘Figured you could use a little push.” He chuckles and a hand leaves his pockets to rake through his brown locks.

“I-I, why all this, really, come on-what are you playing at here?” You gesture to your outfit, still in disbelief.

“What can I say, I’m all about presentation and you deserve the best.” Tony grins, making his second attempt to stroke your cheek. This time, you let him, even if you're not sure why. Maybe persistence did work best on you. 

Regardless, you roll your eyes at the honeyed words. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s still waiting for a yes , and you’re running out of logical reasons to decline. God knows the idea of a date with Tony Stark was something any other woman would jump at. So why not you?

“I work nights , Tony—”

“How much?” He cuts you off sharply, the hand on your face tenses ever so slightly.

“What, I don’t—”

“How much do you make in a night? Hourly, tips, everything—how much?” 

You’re starting to think he enjoys confusing you. “I don’t know, it varies. Maybe $200 on a good night?” 

With that, Tony turns back to the armchair his jacket rests on, and you have to ignore the way the loss of his touch makes you feel. He fiddles with the garment for a moment, rummaging through the pockets until he produces a thin leather wallet. As five crisp hundred dollar bills emerge, he struts back to you.

“Here, now you can call in tomorrow night.” He says matter-of-factly, holding out the bills. 

You scoff at his audacity, feeling a bit offended at his demeanor. “I’m not some product you can just buy.”

“Oh, doll, don’t think so low of yourself,” he chuckles, “Your time is valuable, I’m just hoping this makes it easier for you to spend it with me.” 

The paper is folded between his fingers, before he takes your hand and places them inside. When in doubt, fall back to basics. Money normally fixes most problems. You could have said any number and he would’ve made it happen. He was nothing short of infatuated with you- so no cost was too high. 

“Fine.” You respond indignantly, staring at what’s easily half of your rent before glaring back up at him. If a date was all he wanted— fine . If he turned out to be a huge dick you’re expecting, you could leave and never speak to him again. You're certain he at least wouldn’t keep showing up at your workplace after. 

“We’ll see how much longer you can keep up this act.” He smirks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

Just as you're preparing to tell (lie) him again that you weren’t pretending, he walks back to the chair and takes a seat, pulling his phone from his pants pocket.

“Go ahead and change, I’ll have everything wrapped up for you to take home tonight. You can be ready by 7 tonight, yes?” Tony doesn’t look at you when he speaks, fingers typing away on the electronic screen.

He misses the eye roll you give walking back to the dressing room. 

Sure enough, you make it home without any bodily injuries or traumatic experiences. Tony kisses your hand when you go to exit the car, dress and jewelry in tow. He reminds you to be ready on time tomorrow, and you enter your apartment feeling like you just walked out of a movie. 

This felt entirely too insane. You found yourself more than lucky all those nights he flirted with you, but this took the cake. 

It’s nearly 5 in the morning when you toss the dress onto your green couch. The half-finished canvas and paintbrushes in the corner of your living room go abandoned for another night. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to do anything, replaying every detail in your head. Instead, you find yourself sat on the worn cushions, staring at the lilac bag, adorned with the boutique’s fancy name in silver lettering. Next to it, sits a smaller version, possessing a white box. You’re fixated on the bags, mentally picturing your reflection from earlier. 

Contrary to what might Tony believe, you didn’t think of yourself as ‘low’, just maybe not genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist levels. Self-confidence wasn’t something you were lacking, but it wasn't in extreme surplus either. You didn’t know his type, but you figured odds are you weren’t it. You could imagine the kinds of girls Tony could get, with a lot less hassle, too. So, why you ? 

Eventually, the sounds of your roommate waking fills the apartment, forcing you to realize it’s around 6:30 and your mind’s been taken over with purple and red hues for too long. You give a short good morning and abandon the couch for the comfort of your bedroom, deciding to save the shower for later and get some sort of rest. 

You don’t answer when she asks about the bags, convinced you’ll wake up in a few hours and find this was all a weird dream.

The train rushing by your window wakes you before your alarm gets the chance, blaring its incessant tune throughout the small space. The afternoon sun diffuses through the sheer curtains, covering the room in golden light. It gives you a peaceful few minutes where you’re groggy enough to forget about Tony.

Then, the memories pour in. 

The night plays back in resplendence. You don’t know he managed to get you to agree after all that. A tinge of excitement filled you alongside the dread. 

You hoped last night for it to all turn out as fiction, but lo behold, the shiny bags sit atop your dresser like a bad omen. Poking out from your purse are the crisp bills. A cursory glance at your phone reveals two things— one, it’s almost 4 pm and two, a text from an unsaved number.

[ hope you didn’t forget. see u soon. ]

You wondered where on Earth he got your number. 

As much as you hated feeling you owed him something, a part of you was glad you did. Although you didn’t plan on admitting it, you were into him. You were just convinced his behavior was too good to be true, a precursor to something worse. Plus it bugged you that it was apparently impossible for you to hide it from him.

Nonetheless, you rise from your bed, heading for the shower you skipped earlier and thinking of a response.

[ 9 pm right? ] 

The bathroom door creaked as it opened, drowned out by the traffic on the street below. 

[ are you this difficult with everyone? ]

Water spouts from the shower head as a dry chuckle echoes in the chamber at his response. You hadn’t actively dated in a while, but it was a common complaint. Normally they would say stubborn or strong-headed, but difficult worked too. 

You work through several different waves of nerves and anticipation as the clock ticks down to 7. Your boss, ever an asshole, wasn’t thrilled about you calling off. It almost made you reconsider, tell Tony you couldn’t. Something told you he wouldn’t appreciate that, though, so you stood your ground with your boss instead of him and got the night off. 

When the time came to slip the red dress on again, you felt off. At the store, the lighting and lavish background only added to your beauty. In the dim, run-down atmosphere of your apartment, you’re out of place, like a fraud. The browns and greens drown the shimmer on your neckline, reminding you that you had no business dating someone like Stark. 

Your mind’s saving grace is the buzz of your phone, a text from the punctual Tony, arriving right at 6:58. 

You expected the veil to be pulled from your eyes. Tony’s true nature, whatever that may be, would be revealed and all his charm would fade away. Clearly, something was wrong with him to go after some bartender, to go after you. The date would go sour, he would move on, and your life could continue as planned.

Instead, you end up having one of the best nights of your life. 

The restaurant is indescribably out of your depth. It’s clearly a popular romantic site for A-listers, with mostly couples filling the warmly lit dining area. Everything seemed meticulously prearranged— the host leading you two towards a tucked away booth just at the sight of Tony. You're worried he’d be overly touchy and make you uncomfortable, but instead his hand rests against the small of your back as you navigate to your table. 

He was nothing short of a perfect gentleman, pulling out your chair and pouring your wine. Conversation flowed just as it did at work, at least once you got your nerves out of the way. You learned a bit more about Stark Industries, even though he was clearly skipping some details for reasons you were too enamored to think about. 

Occasionally during the dinner, people would come up and exchange a few words with Tony, and he always introduced you. There was something about the level of attention that just pulled you in. You had started to think you were overthinking this whole thing, that maybe something nice could come out of this. If wooing you was the goal, he was well on his way to success. 

As the final bites of dessert lingered on your plate, a subtle disappointment crept in, acknowledging the inevitable conclusion of the evening. It had been an embarrassingly long time since you'd gone out for a night like this, and you wished you’d agreed sooner. 

The idea of shedding the vibrant sanguine dress and returning to the routine of crafting dry martinis the next night sounded more dreadful than ever.

Yet, that’s exactly what you did. 

When Tony drives back and walks you to your apartment door, you half-hope he’ll ask you on another date, and half-fear he’ll try and make a move. To your surprise and disappointment he does neither, opting instead to tell you what a wonderful time he had before departing. 

You feel a bit foolish for expecting anything more, closing your door with a heavy sigh. Your roommate seems to read your emotions on your face, deciding it best not to ask why you were dressed like that. 

The remaining hours of the night pass with you getting ready for bed and staving off sleep to not wake too early for work. Every so often, the urge overwhelms you to see if Tony texted. Teeth brushed— no text, shower—nothing, late night popcorn snack—nope. Every time you look, you grow more annoyed, feeling like some sort of teenage schoolgirl.  

By the time your head hits the pillow, you’re close to desperation. 

When you wake, it doesn’t take a few minutes for Tony to come to mind. He’s the first thing you think of. You groan in frustration when your notifications disappoint you again. Two texts from your roommate about her night out, a missed call from a friend, and a few emails, but no Tony.

You really do try to make it through the afternoon without thinking about him. You fail regardless, spending every second of the day consumed by bergamot and red. The one thing that keeps you from reaching out first is the certainty you’ll see him this evening. He’ll saunter in, order a single malt and overpay. The script unfolds in your mind—engaging conversations that span the night, and it’ll end with another pass made your way. This time, you won’t hesitate to say yes. 

The hours at work tick by painfully as you wait for him to show up. For the first time, you’re doing terribly at work. Wrong servings are poured as your eyes bounce between the bar's entrance and the mocking hands of the clock. 

Inevitably, you switch the sign to closed . A sliver of hope remains, hinged on the small chance he could appear outside as he did before. And still, he doesn’t.

Self-doubt starts to overtake you. Maybe you said the wrong thing, or did something abnormal that made him suddenly change course.

Once you're home, your resolve breaks, and you open the messages app in an act of desperation. 

[ thanks again for the other night  ] 

As soon as you hit send, you’re convinced it’s single-handedly the stupidest text ever sent. Before you can think of what to add on to repair it, your phone buzzes.

[ not a problem ]

[ i had a good time, nice place ]

[ miss me already huh ]

[ who said anything about that? ] 

[ thought you weren’t interested, but look whos texting me ]

[ yeah, to say thx ]

[ you said that when i dropped you off. gonna have to try harder doll ]

How did someone so arrogant manage to have you swooned?

[ fine. maybe i did. ]

[ see, was that so hard? ]

With a huff, you crawl into bed. You weren’t the romantic type by any measure. Your romantic philosophy entailed waiting for the right person to come into your life. Naturally, you assumed what everyone said was true—that’d you know the one when you saw it. In the case of Tony, it wasn't a lightning-strike love at first sight, but rather a rapid realization that there was an intangible something about him. Excluding the early worries over his intentions, he spread this sense of ease throughout you whenever he was around. 

On Tony’s side, it was more akin to obsession at first sight. He’d had decades of escapades under his belt, all incomparable to you. A limited edition, one of a kind, breathtaking woman he knew he couldn’t let slip away. 

You were a fresh breath of air in his world of tragedy. People in his sphere were usually tainted by it, but not you. You didn’t have some preconceived, inflated notion of him.  He was happy to recognize the mutual attraction. Unfortunately for him, you being from outside of his world meant losing you if you found the wrong information at the wrong time. 

He felt you deserved a life without the grime and troubles of everyone else. He just knew that’d only be possible with him . He just had to keep a few things from you for a little while. Long enough for you to be too committed to leave.

Tony learned at a young age that planning is the key to everything, so that’s precisely what he does. 

The lack of interaction was a purposeful step on his part, only partially. There was little fun in biting back the urge to talk to you again, to kiss you goodbye at the door, but he knew it was the best method to have you hooked. Originally, he meant to visit the bar once more tonight, see if your face brightened up when he walked in. That plan is foiled by an unmovable meeting, which keeps him occupied until close. You just happened to beat him to the text. 

For you, the date served as a testament that he wasn't some idealized, too-good-to-be-true fantasy. It wasn't a dream; it was a tangible reality and you found yourself unwilling to let it slip away. The initial worries had given way to what you prayed was something genuine.

[ so do u often take people on one date then ghost or is it just me? ]

[ doll, i don’t bore myself or waste my time with people i don’t enjoy. ]

[ i’m sure there’s better options for you ]

[ not better than you ]

[ hows that?  ]

[ i’ll tell you if you agree to see me again ]

In the dark of your room, the message illuminates your face, stirring the anticipation in your gut. This is what you wanted, the perfect opportunity. 

[ deal . ]

From then on, you and Tony find yourselves going out a few times each week. Whether it's another intimate dinner or museum, Tony consistently showers you in gifts—ranging from exquisite jewelry to coveted concert tickets. He makes jokes about making even more grandiose gestures, like moving you to a better neighborhood or getting you a car so you don’t have to walk home at night. Despite the overwhelming generosity, you can't help but feel weird at the unfamiliarity of it all, lamenting that they aren’t necessary (though you never admit how much you were beginning to love it). 

Nonetheless, Tony remains steadfast in reassuring you, emphasizing that the smile on your face is worth any amount. There’s little doubt to this, given he hasn’t made a move beyond kissing your cheek a few times. You’d like to think someone with ill-intentions would move a bit faster. 

His charismatic nature continues, enveloping you in a world of affection and companionship beyond your wildest expectations. He treats better than you could ever fathom, and asks for seldom in return. Stark handles every detail, every direction providing you with much needed mental relief. 

The thing you’re most grateful for is the ease of it all. It’s easy to indulge in him, to agree to his few, but necessary stipulations ( don’t spend my money poorly , answer when I call , be honest with me , etc. etc.) They were much milder, and more enjoyable, than ones you had in past relationships. Your most recent ex? He’d ask for a photo of your timecard from work, paranoid you were sleeping around. 

However, it takes a while for you to shake off the nagging suspicion that he’s just playing the long game. Your relationships had often ended in emotional horror for at least one side, and you dreaded a repeated end. Gradually, though, you feel more secure, even as he pulls you more and more out of your comfort zone. 

Although it didn’t really help you understand where his money came from, he brought you along to company dinners and fundraisers. These outings, while a testament to the serious nature of his work, become less enjoyable for you. Mostly because Tony’s line of work seemingly employs nothing but the most annoying of the 1%. 

He has a terrible habit for making you feel like (and dress you like) fine art. Yet, amid a room of stunning women with envious glares directed at you and Tony, you feel like second-rate trash, despite the arm draped on his meant to signify your belonging. It didn’t help that at the end of the day you and Tony never put a name to what you were, and you had no idea who he was with when you were apart. 

It doesn’t harm the connection too much for you, but it does lead to your first argument after a blissful first month. 

Truthfully, it’s mostly your fault. You’d gotten a bit more than jealous at some socialites' snide remarks about Tony being with someone so young and ‘rudimentary’, as she deemed. You blame the alcohol for tossing your drink in her face. Tony had warned you before about keeping positive appearances, but oh well. Vodka has a tendency to do nefarious things. 

The entire car ride back, Tony gets a number of phone calls, leaving you the sinking feeling you’ve angered the wrong person. There’s something semi-terrifying on every inch of his face as he talks in terms you don’t understand. The calls don’t stop until long after you make it back to the tower. You’re seated on a leather couch in his office, anxiously preparing your explanation for what happened. 

At the end of what he hopes is the last call, he turns to you. The look in his eye disintegrates whatever words you had mustered together. 

“What were you thinking?” he asks harshly, but with a low tone as if he’s trying not to sound as pissed as he truly was. 

“Tony, I didn’t think it would-”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, holding his hand up in a quieting manner. There’s a few beats of silence, where you’re wretched with guilt, not even knowing fully what you did wrong. 

“My associates are not people to mess with, honey. You need to be able to control yourself. Your little show almost ruined a deal I’ve been working on for months.”

“My little show ? You didn’t hear what she was saying and how was I supposed to know-”

“That’s my mistake for expecting you to have thicker skin than that.” Tony reprimands, his eyes reflecting an anger that leaves a mixed feeling in your gut. .

“You’re right, next time a woman starts talking about how better off you’d be with someone else, I’ll go ahead and give them your number. God knows you live for the fucking attention.” you retort, tears of frustration burning in the back of your eyes as you stand to head for the elevator. 

Tony moves from his spot in the middle of the room to cut you off, blocking your path out. 

“If you’re gonna act like a jealous brat, at least have the guts to admit it. Don’t try and make it about me.” His voice keeps its edge, standing close enough to force you to look up to meet his eyes. 

He’d never been so much as annoyed by you, and the anger in his dark irises was unbearable. Behind the darkness is something else, a heat that trails down your lips. Still, the sourness in the room is enough to make you repentant. 

“I,” you sigh, averting his eyes to stare at your heels. “I’m sorry, okay?” Your voice is small and shameful under his gaze. 

Tony’s hand meets the bottom of your chin, tugging your head back up. 

“Look at me.” he says sternly, and you’re reminded of the boutique that feels lightyears in the past. The touch twists your shame cruelly into a tight knot. 

At the sight of your watering eyes, his expression softens. A flared temper had been a life-long condition, but his last wish was letting it off on you. There was something about the way you underestimate your value to him, it makes him want to stop holding back—show you just how badly he needed you. He’d done a piss poor job of keeping you isolated from this side of his life, but it couldn’t be undone, and you needed to be able to handle it. And a sobering part of you knew you were overreacting, at least a little bit.

“You can never do something like this again, are we clear?” 

You nod, taking a deep breath. A calloused thumb strokes your face, rendering every word he said null. 

“That’s my girl.”

It reassured you that this had to be a one-off situation-a unique, heat of the moment event that caused everyone to act out of character, not just him.

In the morning, the full weight of his words hits you like a brick wall. You do a bit of mental gymnastics on yourself, flipping between blaming yourself for Tony’s reaction and blaming him for behavior. Ultimately, at the battle’s end, you let the blame reside with you. 

The next few weeks are a return to your new normalcy, turning any thoughts of ending things unnecessary. Aside from that night, Tony’s allure didn't stop, and it became safe to say you were falling, rapidly. You texted and called nearly constantly whenever you weren’t together, not that Tony seemed to mind at all (it helped that he was never far from his phone). It was clear Tony did all he could to make your outings last longer, but eventually one of you (typically Tony) absolutely has to head home. 

You’re left with a somber emptiness every time, waiting to see Tony to feel whole again. The level of care you were showered in was, well, addictive. There was enough to ignore the ambiguity surrounding whatever your relationship was, and what his life was like outside of you. Trust wasn’t exactly your strong suit, so an occasional strife happens whenever you think about it too long. It still tested his patience, and resolve, irately wishing you’d take him at his word just once. 

Something poetic could be said about rose-colored glasses and red flags.

One spring night, the rain grows far beyond what Tony’s outdoor plans can accommodate. Not wanting to cancel, he moves the date to an art gallery. There’s no hiding your excitement, and Tony expected as much. He was saving this location for another time, but you sound far too happy on the phone to regret it. 

Unsurprisingly, the night goes just as fantastic as any other with Tony. You loved art in nearly any form, and dreamed of creating pieces worthy of hanging in a gallery. This one though, is unlike any you’ve ever seen, a high-ceiling bright open space, with prices starting in the six figures. 

They’re all worth the price to you, elaborate shapes and colors sitting in huge antique frames. Like any other night, he occasionally slips away for a phone call, or you’ll turn to see him typing away another email or memo. It’s not frequent enough to bother you, and either way you accept it as an occupational hazard of seeing someone like him. Besides, you were too busy enjoying the art to care. 

Tonight though, you feel bold enough to dig into it. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Tony pocket his phone for the fourth time in a half hour, striding back over to you with a grin. You were transfixed by the painting in front you, having stared at it for the last fifteen minutes. It was a mirage of playful colors, swirling and fading down to a dusky abyss. Two faint abstract shapes floated in the gradient, seemingly intertwined and bursting outwards. You’re certain Tony will give you grief for fawning over what probably looked like kindergarten work. 

“I could just buy it for you, then you could stare at it all day.” he taunts once he’s in ear shot, looping his arm through yours. 

You laugh back at him, resuming your slow stride through the rest of the quiet gallery. 

“It’s like eight feet tall, no way it’s making it up my stairs in one piece.” you laugh, “You absolutely have to buy something for yourself, though. Something that, y’know, inspires you.” you say playfully, stopping to get a better look at another piece. 

“You are the only muse I need.” 

He plants a kiss on your forehead when you roll your eyes at his saccharinity, letting you slip away. You really were all the motivation he needed, especially if you kept wearing tight black skirts like the one you're wearing now. When you finally turn back to him, his hands are occupied again, typing away incessantly.

“What kind of company do you run that they can’t survive without you for a few hours?” you taunted playfully. You’d idly clicked your heels on the dark stone floor, studying the machinations of his face, trying to get a sense of what transpired in his head. 

The phone is switched off in his hands, abandoned in his pocket before beaming at you.

“A very important one.” he drawls, circling the soft skin behind your exposed collarbone with his fingertips. The padded digits trail around in random shapes, inkling up your neck slowly.

“But I have recently taken on a new,” Tony pauses, still drawing northward to caress your face. “-endeavor, that’s requiring a lot of attention right now.”

“A new endeavor?” You really try to act interested, but his touch sends shivers down your back. A subtle graze on the soft corner of your mouth becomes the most sensual touch in the past two months (and you weren’t expecting it here of all places). You, permanently apprehensive of scaring him off, never made a move to progress things physically, no matter how much you thought about it.

He says something else your brain can’t be bothered to process, giving a final circle on your cheek before meeting your eyes. “But, my attention should be on you, honey.”

Your mouth is suddenly painfully dry, clearing your throat before responding with a forced laugh.

“You’re fine, I was just prying.” 

Tony reassures you softly, “Nothing wrong with that.” giving you one of those toothy smiles that makes your head a bit light, especially with his closeness. “But only if you listen when I answer.”

You chuckle at being discovered, shaking your head slightly. 

“Sorry, zoned out for a second.”

“Well, doll, you missed an invitation to Los Angeles, gonna have to pass that on to someone else I’m afraid.” 

He shrugs his shoulders defeatedly when you scoff and swat his shoulder.

“Had you been listening , you would have heard that I’ve just been made partner in new company, and there’s supposedly a very nice celebration happening this weekend.”

It takes a beat for you to fully process the short time frame. 

“So, you should definitely come.” The matter-of-fact tone he uses breaks your stunned state with a laugh. 

“Unlike you I cannot just go to California for a weekend-”

“Aht!” He intercepts, smiling. “I recall two hours ago, a certain someone told me she was off Friday and Saturday, therefore, you can just go to L.A., this one weekend.”

Now, that was very true, and put you in quite the predicament, stammering at his growing smile until you finally found an excuse.

“I don’t have a valid ID.” you say proudly, crossing your arms.

“I have a private plane.” he responds pointedly.

“I’m terrified of airplanes.” 

“That’s a lie.” he laughed, resting his hands on your hips. “What is the problem with taking a trip with me? Is it LA? Cause I can just ask for it to be moved—”

“No, no,” you gave a disheartened laugh and sighed, “It’s just, I don’t know, a lot?”

“California’s pretty normal these days-”

“Okay, okay. Just what is your end goal here? With all this?” The incessant question in the back of your head, which you hoped didn’t cause another instant implosion.

“What do you mean?” Unbeknownst to you, Tony knew precisely what you meant, from the countless conversations, and had a very concrete answer, but there was some enjoyment in stonewalling you. 

“I mean you’re always trying to do insane things like trying to fly me across the country but you haven’t even so much as kissed me getting kind of confused-” 

“Would kissing you get you to go to L.A. with me?” Tony cuts off your exasperated tangent, laughing softly.

You roll your eyes, bracing your arms by your side, preparing to walk away. Tony senses he might benefit from a moment of seriousness and stops you with a hand on your wrist and quick spoken apologies.

“Having you on my arm is more than enough for me, doll. If you want more, that’s up to you.” This was by no means new information to you. He’d given similar reassurances to you, none which seemed to ease you for long. 

“So, answer the question, would that get you to go?” Tony pushes, leaning towards you.

“Probably.” You wish he didn’t have this effect on you so easily, but the words barely manage to register above a whisper. 

For your admission, you're rewarded with the taste of bourbon on your lips as his hand abandons your arm to rest under your chin. His teeth graze the skin of your bottom lip, stubble tickling your chin.  When he pulls away, he can’t help smirking at your dazed look. Really, Tony dreamed of doing a lot with you, but saw no need to rush. Especially since every light touch so far left you a flustered mess.

“We’ll leave early Friday morning, you can sleep on the plane, sound good?”

You don’t have a reason to protest anymore.

 After Tony drops you off, he decides to get something for future you. The colorful painting finds a new home, wrapped in an empty room at the tower, shelves lined with blank canvases and paint. 

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 28 – HISTORICAL FICS

In Amore Veritas by FestiveFerret

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 3,903 Tags: Truth Serum, Class Difference, Reconnecting

Summary: Prince Tony creeps down to the stables one night to meet with his best friend, Steve, one of the stable boys. It's something they do often, but this time, Tony has something special hidden in the wraps of his cloak.

Reasons why I love it: Oh, you poor, silly boys. I'm so glad they cleared up their misunderstanding in the end, because those two idiots deserve each other. This fic is super sweet and fluffy, and I bet you'll love it just as much as I do!

as you have honored them by Areiton

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 1,734 Tags: Fantasy AU, Forced Marriage, Protective Steve

Summary: He sits in his chambers, silent as the three serving automans paint his body, gold and crimson. There are the sigils of the Crown that is his birthright, and the ones of Stone’s own kingdom. There are, too, the traditional sigils, of a bride, of the nine gods and the six kingdoms.

Reasons why I love it: Don't mind me, I'm just over here, screaming incoherently into the void. This fic is SO GOOD, oh my god! I love all of the symbolism and the blessings and the ENDING, fuck yes! I really hope you go and read this one if you haven't, because it's phenomenal!

Tribute Given, Treasure Gained by sphagnum

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 12,051 Tags: A/B/O, Power Imbalance, Tribute Tony

Summary: “Steve,” the Captain said, hand over his chest. Tony licked his lips. Was he supposed to give his name, or remain silent until he was asked a direct question? The Captain--Steve, apparently--already knew his name, he had to, it had been included on the settlement he and Stane had signed. Was this a test? Time was passing and Steve was still waiting with his hand on his chest but Tony had to figure out the right answer fast or when Steve moved he might-- “Tony,” he blurted. “Tony,” Steve repeated. He hadn’t come any closer. He said something short that might have been pleased to meet you or you look good on your knees. Tony had no way of knowing and he wasn’t going to risk echoing it. He kept quiet. See, Howard? I do know how to shut up when my life depends on it.

Reasons why I love it: The language barrier gives this story so much tension and intrigue, it's amazing! I love how gentle Steve is with Tony, mindful of his nerves to the very end, and Tony's musings about whether or not he can trust Steve are perfect. I love this fic so much, and you should definitely read it!

a myth to many by nanasekei

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: NR Words: 8,660 Tags: Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Medieval AU, Angst

Summary: “What I’m about to ask you has no relation to our alliance,” Rogers continues, his voice a lot steadier now. “I come here only in behalf of myself, and what I’m about to ask, I ask as a man, not as a soldier.” Howard feels as if he can see the anticipation growing in the room, almost as a cloud forming over them. The guards don’t bother hiding the shock in their expressions, and even Jarvis can’t fully disguise the curiosity, his eyebrows quirked. Rogers takes one short breath before locking his eyes with Howard’s. His blue gaze is almost peaceful in its resoluteness, as if there’s an element of inevitability in what he’s about to say. “I’m here to ask for your son’s hand.”

Reasons why I love it: Aaaah, the ending is so ominous, I love it! The choice to tell this story from Howard's perspective is brilliant. His inner monologue is fascinating, and it reveals so much about Tony's life as his son. And the last few paragraphs are an absolute gut-punch. I adore this one, and I hope you give it a shot for yourself!

Clan (of the Stranger and the Outcast) by greymantledlady

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 5,778 Tags: Stone Age AU, Hurt Tony, Protective Steve

Summary: The Stranger holds out his huge hand towards Tony, palm outwards and upwards. Tony watches him warily, baring his teeth a little, not yet a snarl but a warning. But the Stranger simply holds his hand there, waiting, waiting; and his knife is lying on the ground between them, and there is no threat in the lines of his body. Tony lets out a little breath he’s been holding. And he’s trembling, but he slowly reaches his own hand out, tentative and uncertain, and brushes the fingertips against the Stranger’s calloused palm. And the Stranger smiles a little, his eyes soft, and wraps his fingers around Tony’s. (The one where Neanderthal!Steve and Homo Sapiens!Tony imprint on each other like baby ducklings.)

Reasons why I love it: The way they communicate with each other in this one is so precious to me. I love the whole setting and how their culural differences come into play, it's super intriguing. Definitely check this one out, it's wonderful!

[airas-story]

A Matter of Value

“One of these days, I’m going to just take you out and be done with it,” Stephen snapped. The frustration of the situation felt like it had his patience in a stranglehold and Stephen was in no hurry to save it. Let him be frustrated, Tony deserved it.

Tony gave him a lazy smile. “Great. It’s a date.”

That was the problem with Tony. There was no point in being frustrated with him, because Tony simply didn’t care.

“That wasn’t an invitation, Tony, that was a threat.”

Tony just waltzed toward him, lazy and seductive. “See you at five.” 

He pressed a kiss against the corner of Stephen’s mouth before stepping back. His suit swarmed out of the reactor on his chest and immediately covered him as Tony shot out into the sky.

“By the Vishanti do I hate him.” Stephen shook his head, turning back to Wong who was watching him with exasperated amusement. He considered following after Tony to double check on his health, but if Tony had left without an invitation it was with the implicit request that Stephen not follow.

“If you hate him, you should really stop sleeping with him,” Wong said dryly, even as he opened a portal. Stephen followed him through, still annoyed.

Stephen wasn’t going to stop sleeping with Tony any time soon. Because he didn't hate Tony, couldn't hate him. It was Tony’s sheer lack of self-preservation that drove him insane.

That was today’s problem; Tony had been attacked. The spells that Tony had let Stephen put on him for protection had broken, catching Stephen’s attention in time for Stephen to get there before Tony could be overwhelmed. Wong had been with him and tagged along, though he had been more overkill than anything. 

And that had been fine enough—well, not fine, but it hadn’t been what had gotten Stephen frustrated—it was hardly Tony’s fault he’d been attacked. It was the sheer dismissal to the fact that he’d almost been killed that got to Stephen.

He just wanted Tony to value his life the way Stephen did. Was that too much to ask?

He sighed, exhausted. Wong sent him an almost amused look. “You know, you could stop being a hypocrite about it, at least.”

Stephen blinked at him. “How am I being a hypocrite? What am I supposedly being a hypocrite about?”

“You wish Tony valued his life, right?” Given that Wong had literally heard Stephen arguing with Tony about that very thing, it wasn’t a particularly difficult guess. “Well, maybe you should start valuing your own. Set a good example.”

“I value my life.”

Wong stared at him for a long moment, expression a mix of unimpressed and skeptical. “Right. You should ask Tony what he thinks about that when you have your date tonight.”

“I don’t have a date tonight.”

Wong snorted. “Last I checked, you’re taking him out tonight at five.”

That was how that conversation had gone. Stephen should say no just because he was still annoyed with Tony.

He also knew he wasn’t going to say no.

He and Tony needed to talk.

Stephen needed Tony to value his own life.

Wong’s words nudged at him, that maybe Tony needed Stephen to value his own life as well. 

The two of them really were disasters, weren’t they?

They probably deserved each other.

[babybatscreationsv2]

Off Camera

Marvel | Starker

Peter really wants Tony's attention while he's working. He does his best to ignore him, but Peter is just too tempting.

Rating: Explicit

For H<3

Warnings/tags below

Warnings/tags: daddy kink, semi-public sex, teasing, orgasm denial, cock warming, face fucking, rough sex

Tony ignored the sight of Peter's pouting face around the side of his monitor. The faces on his screen discussed their current project back and forth, updating him on the status, always asking for more time and more funding. Which Tony was happy enough to provide. Peter was happy about none of it. They'd slept in and there was no time for a morning quickie before Tony's meeting. Hence the pouting.

"Daddy..." he whined quietly. Tony flicked his eyes at him in a silent warning. Peter blew air from his pouting lips and flopped back in the chair.

Tony kept his eyes on the screen. It was all the usual stuff. His staff were skilled and well compensated and it was rare anything of concern came up in these meetings, but the shareholders liked it when he was hands-on.

"Ahh..." A little gasp came from across the desk. Tony looked at Peter to see his legs were spread over the arms of the chair. He'd rucked up his stolen t-shirt and tucked it under his arms so Tony had a clear view of his gorgeous body and the hand that was rubbing his cock through his underwear.

He ignored him still. Peter's frustrated glare almost made him laugh. He tried to focus on the meeting, but every now and then Peter made a soft sound that pulled him away. Tony muted his mic to be on the safe side. He wouldn't put it past the little brat to start moaning directly into the mic.

It was an impressive few minutes before Peter pulled his cock out and started stroking himself. He was louder now and Tony could tell by the sound which whining little moans were forced and which were very much real. His near exhibition was turning him on probably almost as much as being as absolute pain in the ass was.

He let him go, watching from the corner of his eye. Tony could feel his control slipping bit by bit. He just had to hold out until his meeting ended, let the boy think he was unaffected, and then he'd punish the brat like he deserved. But he sounded so sweet. And the way he spread his legs wide, showing off that pretty cock and that tight little hole. His eyes darted away from the screen to get a better look and finally he snapped.

Tony grabbed the webcam from above his monitor and yanked the cable out. It clattered against the floor or maybe the wall he didn't care to look. He moved around the desk so fast Peter hardly had time to react and when he reached him there was fear in his big doe eyes. One hand closed around his throat and the other grabbed his forearm, pulling his hand off of his cock.

"Who told you to touch yourself, huh? Because it sure as shit wasn't daddy." He didn't waste time waiting for an answer, but he enjoyed Peter's fearful little mewl of 'please daddy, I'm sorry' while he unhooked his belt with one hand and pulled out his cock. For a second, a pleased little smile crossed Peter's lips, but he wiped it away. Not fast enough to avoid daddy's wrath.

Tony dragged him out of the chair to sit down in his own and shoved him down to his knees. Peter's mouth opened without question as he pulled him in and stuffed his cock down his throat all at once. He slapped his cheek as he struggled to take it.

"There. Now shut up and let daddy work." He looked at Peter and his pleading eyes. His mouth looked so pretty stuffed full like that. He let him take a breath before he turned his attention back to his confused subordinates.

"Sorry about that. Something's wrong with my webcam," he said with a laugh.

"Should we take a break?" someone suggested.

"No, no. Who needs to see my handsome face anyway, right?" The group all laughed. "Please continue."

Tony muted his mic and stared down at Peter's wide wet eyes. "Does it hurt baby? Too big for your little throat?"

Peter nodded his head, cock stuffed back his mouth.

"Good. It's what you deserve you impatient fucking brat."

Peter whined and Tony let him up to catch his breath. "Yes, daddy," he gasped. "I'm sorry." He took Tony's cock back in his mouth without being told.

Tony pet his hair. "You can't help yourself can you? You're only a cock hole. Must be terrible for you to sit there all empty."

Peter whined in what Tony could only assume was agreement. He hadn't thought through exactly what he intended for the little slut, but his mouth suckling on his cock like that was driving him crazy. And well, the camera was already gone.

Tony pulled him up from the floor. He turned him and pushed him down over the desk. Peter spread his legs before he could even ask. He rubbed a fistful of lube along his cock while he checked in on the meeting. He wasn't needed at the moment, but he still had a job to do. Two jobs really. Keeping Peter satisfied was a career in its own right.

As he pushed inside him, Peter gripped the desk, moaning and pushing up on his toes. Tony sighed happily. "We should have just done this from the beginning. My meetings would be much more interesting."

He moved his hips as Peter tried to speak and grinned when he whined instead. "You got what you wanted, sweetheart. Now keep quiet." Tony pushed his head down onto the desk and covered his mouth with one hand so he could unmute his mic.

The meeting was just wrapping up and there were a few questions for him to go over, opinions to give, before he could call it done. It was no trouble at all to fuck the boy deep and slow while he talked. When a few lingered in the call for some post meeting pleasantries, he stayed and chatted with the group about plans for the afternoon. Peter made tiny noises under his hand, but he kept perfectly still.

The call ended and Tony turned his attention to the pleading face beneath him. "Getting uncomfortable, baby? Need some attention?"

"Please, daddy," Peter begged, fluttering innocent eyes.

"You were a very good boy being so quiet, but I want to hear you now." Tony grabbed the back of Peter's knee and lifted his leg up onto the deck. He fucked him like he meant it now, all teasing done. Peter panted beneath him, moaning and whining, little whimpers escaping when he went too deep. He looked up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, brain melted from being denied for too long.

It was impossible to last when he looked like that. All too quickly, he was cumming inside him.

Tony pulled Peter against him, keeping his cock inside his warm little hole as he sat back down. Peter twisted his head, searching for kisses that made him moan and his wet cock jump against his belly. A hand wrapped around it and Tony pulled it away.

"Daddy please! I need to cum," Peter said so innocently as if he didn't already know.

"What makes you think you get to cum after you acted like that?"

"Please daddy, please daddy-" Peter begged. His eyes squeezed shut in frustration.

"Shh," Tony trailed his fingers around Peter's open mouth. "You wanted to be played with so badly. I'll decide how I use you."

Peter whimpered.

"You just keep my cock warm until I'm ready for more. If you're quiet while I make some phone calls, I'll let you cum."

[gerec]

hi!! how are you? do you know any cherik with a secret or forbidden relationship?

Here are some of my favourite secret or forbidden relationship fics! Please remember to check the tags before you read :D

By Faint Indirections by kianspo

Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Fool me once, fool me twice by musical_emjay 

Charles Xavier is sixteen years old the day his mother dies, leaving him parentless, temporarily penniless, and at the mercy of an inexplicable will. Shortly thereafter, his life takes a very drastic, entirely unexpected turn.

Sent to live with his estranged father — a man named Erik Lehnsherr whom he’s never met, and knows next to nothing about — Charles soon finds himself completely out of his depth. What follows is a bitter, obsessive, destructive battle of wills that sends both Charles and Erik sliding dangerously into something neither of them are prepared for, and may not be able to stop.

As to whether they want to, that’s another matter entirely.

 Make a list of everything that’s ever been on fire by cm (mumblemutter)

We're brothers, you and I. We want the same thing.

Give me your stars to hold by pearl_o 

Charles returns home from college and figures out why Erik has been so distant since he’s been away. 

Beneath Me by Magnetism_bind (Unfinished)

Charles is a young lord staying at his family’s estate for the summer. Erik is his family’s stable-hand.

Ritual Self-Torture by Turtletotem 

Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can’t find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn’t know Erik and Charles are in love.

Your Heart Just Couldn’t Wait by Pookaseraph

Charles and his BFF Tony Stark have the life - they’re co-valedictorians at the most prestigious high school in the city, they have their own condo in Manhattan, and they get to go to all the awesome parties. Charles just wished he understood relationships and sex as well as Tony does. His theoretical bisexuality starts to feel a lot less theoretical when he and Tony end up in Professor Lehnsherr’s Physics III course at Columbia University, but Charles’ decision to take their relationship further leaves both student and professor with more than they bargained for.

I’m a bullet by Isolee 

Since mother - since the house - since Cain - He’s adapted. He can do anything. Now he wants something, and he suspects he might even deserve it.

Or - Charles is sort-of a sex addict, and Erik is his married-with-family supervisor at Uni.

The Weight of a Crown by sebastian2017 (series)

Erik is second in line to the throne of Genosha. He’s also gay. The two don’t always work together very well.

[darsynia]

Um if it sounds fun to you could you write a reader (character of your choice but I think Tony works for this, maybe Stephen or Steve) where reader is a professional and has been so focused on work they don’t feel sexy or desirable anymore? New or established I guess but fluffy/cheeky and uplifting. Only if it inspires you, LOVE YOUR WRITING!

-🤓

This was fun as hell, and thank you! I chose Tony Stark/F!Reader.

Summary: Tony wakes you up in the early morning after staying up working on his cars. He knows your job is stressing you out, and if he can't make things better at work, he can at least make you associate certain work things with him…

Warnings: Minors DNI! Oral sex (f receiving) and PiV sex.

Length: 2,288

Tags (if you'd like to be tagged for Tony posts or other characters please let me know!): @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @fyreball66 @themaradaniels @starksbf @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne

Liquidity (Or, Well Deserved)

You’re dreaming, and it’s a really good one. In the dream, you’re on your stomach draped over a cloud, and a warm, loving hand is stroking your back. The hand slides up into your hair to scrape fingernails along your scalp before moving back along your neck and over your shoulder blades, pushing your wide-necked nightgown out of the way.

The realism of the dream is wonderful. You can even feel the way the front of your nightgown presses against your nipples in tension as the man drags the fabric down and out of the way. He starts dropping kisses along your spine, and you shiver, mmm-ing in your sleep at the tingling way his comfort is turning erotic.

The dream-cloud shakes a little, and you can picture the whole scene. You are sleeping in Tony's bed when he comes up grease-stained and horny after taking advantage of your late hours at work. Once he’s scrubbed his hands, he gives up on the shower, hoping you’ll join him if he can manage to be persuasive enough. 

That thought sends half-asleep you into a spiral of dirty thoughts, but you aren’t quite sure if you’re actually dreaming or if the confident, sensual kisses on your back are real. Tony’s usually not quiet-- but he can be, if there’s motivation enough.

The word ‘motivation’ reminds you of everything that’s stressed you out at work lately. It derails the heated scrape of beard hair that trail after each open-mouthed kiss, and, fuck, what time is it? It’s not Friday, is it? It’s Saturday, right? If it’s Friday, you’ll have to rush to--

“You just tensed up,” Tony whispers, and he’s right, you did.

“I’m sorry, I was up in my own head again,” you groan, sliding your knees up underneath you in a vain attempt to hide your disappointment. You’re a compact package of overworked misery. “It’s Saturday, right? My boss would totally invent a time machine just for the glee of demanding an extra workday.”

“If I wasn’t pretty sure you’d roll off the bed in frustration at my inability to shut up about it, I’d order you to quit your job. Again,” Tony says, grabbing a handful of your nightgown and throwing himself onto the mattress beside you. 

With him anchoring you, you can’t roll over or move away, and he knows it. Tony moves his head near to where yours is, reaching over with his free hand to move your hair out of the way so he can see your face. 

“It would serve you right if I rolled off anyway,” you tease.

“Do it. I’ve always wanted to rip this thing off of you,” he grins.

“Tony!” you groan in frustration, but suddenly he’s pulling you over on top of him. He’s hot as a furnace, clearly hard, and the clock on the nightstand reads 4 AM. “Don’t,” you whisper, suddenly shy. “I didn’t have time to do anything but fall into bed. No shower, no teeth, and the bags under my eyes--”

He stops you with a kiss that’s filthy and enthusiastic, sliding his big hand up to the back of your head to hold you steady as he symbolically chases all of your objections away with swipes of his tongue against yours. “Good,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. “Be dirty with me. I probably got grease swipes on your back, I was too impatient.”

That word sends you into another anxiety spiral, no matter how hard you try to fight against it. Tony’s impatient because it’s been days. The project at work isn’t finished, and you have a feeling you’ll get a call sometime today from your boss promising a bonus that won’t actually materialize if you pop into the office for a few hours.

“There you go again. Hon, if you can fuss about work, I’m clearly not on my A game,” Tony says from beneath you. In a move that takes your breath away and coincidentally presses his barely-clothed cock right where you want it, he expertly reverses your positions. You end up on your back with your nightgown hopelessly twisted up out of the way, and Tony’s sliding down.

You want that, but fuck… Tony Stark may be your boyfriend now, but before that he was known for his women, clean women, women who spent their whole lives hoping that he might look sideways at--

Tony interrupts your spiraling thoughts by yanking you toward the foot of the bed, and you lift your head to see that he’s actually dry humping the mattress as he grins up toward you, barely visible in the dim light of his bedroom. Every line of his body is painted with desire, desire for you, and as soon as he sees that you’re watching, he slides his bent knuckle along your core. Just to ensure you’re well and truly wrecked, he pulls his hand back to lick it.

“You’re going to relax, and if you don’t, I’m going to make you associate work stress with this,” Tony says, hooking your knees in his hands and pulling you down just within reach. He leans his head down to kiss you right above your mound, nuzzling you with his nose as though that soft part of your body makes him wild with desire. Hell, Tony doesn’t seem to enjoy faking things much, so maybe it does.

While you’re reckoning with that, Tony settles in, groaning low and deep as he caresses you on the way to resting his hand on your stomach. There’s something about being known like that; he has to anchor you, you’re always like a wildcat when he tastes you.

Does he know that the warmth and pressure of his possessive hand on you while he takes you apart is half the reason you’re so responsive?

“Fuck,” Tony says. “One sec.” He lifts up and you watch as he tears his sweatpants off, unable to resist pumping himself once as he glares at you as though you’re completely to blame. “Waistband was going to chafe, and I need to be able to focus,” he says.

You laugh and take the opportunity to pull off your nightgown, too. Tony is nothing if not controlled chaos in bed. His hands are usually everywhere; he’s always swearing and praising under his breath, hips always moving, but sure, his waistband will derail him.

“Oh, that’s it,” he says, crawling up to look sternly down at you with one hand on either side of your head. “You’re going to tell me your morning routine while I do this. If you stop talking, I’ll stop.”

“Tony, I do not want to mix--”

His mouth takes yours, one hand cupping your face tenderly even as he nips your bottom lip and soothes it with his tongue. “Neither do I. You started this, I’m going to finish it.”

With that he drags his cock right against you, following that with beard hair on your nipple to make you cry out from the overstimulation and smack him.

“Well?”

“Oh my god, it’s not like you’ll get up and walk away if I don’t--”

Tony interrupts you by reaching down to jack himself, his knuckles brushing against your heated core incidentally, nowhere near enough.

“Goddamnit Tony!”

“That’s my girl,” he purrs. “Go on.” Another hand movement, and you’re desperate.

You grab two handfuls of sheet to anchor yourself and start speaking, using an annoyed, disapproving tone. “I walk in and say hi to whoever is working reception.”

Tony swirls his tongue to soothe your nipple and runs his nose along your stomach on his way back down. There’s no time to be self conscious, because he’ll just make you watch him instead, probably while teasing you with useless, sexy touching.

“I head upstairs, usually on the stairs, because you never know who will be lurking near the elevators,” you continue, maintaining your tone of disinterest right till you reach the word ‘elevators,’ because that’s when Tony spreads you with both thumbs. “Oh my God, if you make me think about this while I have a meeting with my boss, I’ll have to quit my job!” you whine, hating the way he just stops.

“They’d have to hire three people to replace you,” Tony says, his lips brushing the thin skin of your inner thigh. “I’m sure I could come up with something for you to do.”

“Just don’t hire three women to do this,” you mutter under your breath. 

Tony says your name, and you bite your lip and look at him. As soon as you do, he slides two fingers inside you, slowly and gently, his gaze intense. It’s an effort to keep yours open, it feels so good. Then, because he’s making a point, he pulls back out and strokes his cock, using your arousal as lubrication.

“Keep going, love.”

The ‘love’ just slays you. The man is inexorable in everything, and the promise of a mind-blowing but agonizing orgasm (not to mention an exciting life together) forces you to capitulate, begrudgingly.

“I sit down at my desk,” you whisper, eyes caught by the way the uneven shadows cast by the dim lamps heighten Tony’s sensuality as he allows himself one last swirl of his fist. “I turn on my-- ahhh, my computer,” you whimper at the first swipe of Tony’s tongue. The next minutes are a fight for coherence as you rock your hips against the steady pressure of his hand holding you still, gasping out mostly nonsense syllables that barely resemble your log-in tasks. Tony clearly relishes what he’s doing, drawing reward words with the tip of his tongue after each completed sentence.

Your orgasm takes both of you by surprise in the most delightful way; one second you’re swearing because Tony’s challenged you to remember all the headings in your most-used Excel spreadsheet, the next second he’s pulling his glorious fingers out of you and lifting his head, tutting at your inability to focus. You’re so frustrated that you put all your strength into bucking your hips up to chase him, and for once, you overcome Tony’s strength. His hand slips on your stomach, sliding up to crash into your breast, and he falls face-forward onto you.

His throaty chuckle and opportunistic nipple tweak send you, and as you shudder and moan, Tony recovers enough to thrust in.

“Oh fuck, that’s--” he gasps, hand desperately grabbing for yours. You wrap your legs around him and pull him down for an open-mouthed, gasping kiss that’s more about sharing breath than anything else. Tony’s hand is bigger than yours, and his finger-threaded grip is just this side of painful, but he’s driving into you like his life depends on it, anchored by the places you’re joined. It’s emotional, sexy, and affirming as hell.

Your orgasm lengthens, spurred into extra ecstasy with Tony’s fervor. Once you’re in that post-bliss intensity, the final column header he’d been demanding comes to you, even as Tony gives up trying to kiss you and just presses his forehead onto the pillow. He’s swearing again, praising the friction, the feel of your smooth legs against his sides, and a number of things you’d blush to even think to yourself in the privacy of your own mind.

“Tony, I remembered the last column,” you whisper against his ear, capturing the lobe in your lips. His hips stutter against you, and you scrape him with your teeth gently before he groans and moves in for a greedy kiss. You lose focus for a few heady seconds, but you can tell Tony’s close, so you pull back. “The column,” you remind him. “Aren’t you going to punish me for stopping?”

Tony lets go of your hand so he can grab your hips, holding on with an iron grip. He’s glaring at you, looking joyful but frustrated.

“I deserve this, don’t I?” he groans, but manages to hold still inside you. “Well?”

You arch your back and run your hands along the corded muscles of his arms, letting out a sigh that you know for a fact drives him crazy. When you lift your head again, he’s trembling against you, so you take pity on him and make direct eye contact. Tightening your inner muscles around his cock, you say a single word on a breathy sigh, sliding your fingers around your nipple just to enhance the effect.

“Liquidity.”

“Oh, I’ll give you liquidity,” he growls at you, grinning.

“Are you saying you’ll show me your assets, Mr. Stark?” you blink up at him innocently, holding completely still but for another pulsing squeeze of your inner walls. 

Ever since you started dating, Tony’s joked about Accountant/client roleplay, and even though you knew he wasn’t serious, you’ve always teased that you couldn’t possibly. Now you’ve turned the tables on him, and the litany of swear words Tony lets out in utter amazed, erotic frustration is only balanced by the power of his renewed thrusts. He basically drives your body back up the bed, and it’s so fantastic you feel another peak rising. Tony does too, and he slips a hand between you, capturing your lips and fucking you with cock, fingers, and tongue into a devastating orgasm that leaves you both breathless.

When Tony finally rolls off of you onto the bed, reaching to twine your fingers together in silent satiation, you can’t stop smiling.

“You asshole, you woke me up at four o’clock in the morning after I worked all day and I’m not even mad at you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the one in trouble here,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“Oh?”

“I have an appointment with my financial advisor today.”

Note: I'll be honest, after 20+ years of marriage I often forget about protection, because it's just not part of my life anymore. Definitely protect yourself and protect your partner, but also please forgive me for letting that slip my mind. It's important, but this is also fantasy.

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

Truth or Dare (6)

Summary: What started off as an innocent game of truth or dare between two noble born sisters, Y/N and Margaret “Peggy” Carter, quickly turns south when Y/N meets Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes. 10 years later Peggy is getting married reuniting the bunch, tensions rise as the sisters engage in truth or dare one more time before Peggy is married.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not Beta'd. Sorry for the long wait. If you want to be added to the tag list, please leave a comment saying so below. Let me know if I missed anyone.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

Each thud of the horse’s hooves hitting the dirt below reverberated in the open meadow. The sound was a stark contrast to the duke’s usual return. Typically, when returning, Bucky didn’t care about drawing attention to himself. No one paid him any attention anyway. This time was different.

Beyond the cloud of dirt, Bucky could make out the shadow of a man leaning against one of the horse stalls. Gently pulling the reins, his sleek black horse slowed into a trot. The cloud of dirt faded behind them. Drawing closer, Bucky could make out the honey locks and strong jaw beyond the rich fabrics clinging to the man. Steve. Bucky wasn’t sure if he recognized the man because he wore the face of his old best friend or because of the status that came with the clothes he now wore, the clothes Bucky once wore.

When he arrived at the stalls, neither man said a word as Bucky dismounted the horse. Bucky made quick work unfastening the saddle while stealing a glance at the new prince over the horse’s back. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him, putting Bucky on edge. He didn’t know why Steve had been waiting for him, watching him.

Sensing the silent judgment radiating off Steve in waves, Bucky’s control burst. Stomping around the front of the horse, he snarled, “If you have something to say, just say it.” His words were hard, but his hands were gentle as he removed the horse’s bridle. The horse blinked back at Bucky, unfazed by his loud outburst.

Steve kept mute, wondering if Bucky would confess something if he remained silent long enough. In return, all he got was a lot more stomping and grunts as he closed the wooden door, sealing the horse behind it.

Lifting a hand to block the sunlight from his eyes, Steve asked. “Where’d you go?”

Bucky shrugged, wiping the dirt from his leather-clad palms. “You came all this way just to ask me that?”

Steve frowned, folding his arms across his chest. ”Just answer the question, Buck.”

“What are you doin’ here?” Bucky countered.

“Can a guy just check in on his pal?”

While Bucky’s mouth remained frozen, his eyes scanned Steve from head to toe, searching for a tell. Growing impatient, Steve pushed himself off the wall, taking a step forward. “Where’d you go?” He asked again.

Bucky ran a gloved hand along the stubble on his chin. “Out for a ride.” It wasn’t a lie, but Bucky knew that didn’t answer Steve’s question. Bucky stalked away from the horse stall and headed straight for the castle.

Bucky got three feet before a hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Bucky, stop.” The brunette spun around, knocking Steve’s hand off his shoulder in the process. “I know.” Bucky stilled, his eyes cold enough to make Steve freeze. Ignoring his chilling gaze, Steve sighed. “Tony sent word that you’ve been lurking outside of his house. It’s bad enough he lost Pepper in the war. You have to stop this obsession with him and Gail.”

The duke straightened his shoulders, clenching his fists. His mind pressing rewind on the moment Tony took a flail to the arm of his last statue. The moment Gail looked at him like he was the bogeyman. They deserved each other.

“I know you, Buck. You’re going down the wrong path all on your own this time. Whatever you’re plotting has to stop. Now.”

I do. I do. I do.

The two words ghosted on Peggy’s lips in a silent prayer. Cast back at her through her wine glass, her scarlet-stained lips wrenched into a grimace. Had the youngest Carter been marrying a gentleman without status or of equal status she would have been fine. Instead, she was marrying the forthcoming king. As a countess, Peggy was already under the spotlight, but her engagement added more pressure. Like sand descending to the base of an hourglass, every wedding planning event taunted her, a countdown until she would lose her privacy and be expected to produce an heir. She needed a proper send-off to her youth, to up the stakes of truth or dare.

Steve would never approve of such a risky game, not when the fate of their kingdom relied on him. Peggy didn’t want to sneak around Steve, but her need for an adventure was too great. If she couldn't find the excitement she craved, settling for living through others would suffice. The countess’s grimace turned into a mischievous grin. Clink. She tapped her wine glass against the glass bottle. Cheers.

A sea of green and pink swarmed Y/N’s vision as she entered the queen’s garden. The orchids were in full bloom this time of year, but the queen’s statue in the center remained the main focus. The carefully etched marble eyes followed Y/N throughout the garden. It didn’t matter that Y/N wasn’t alone. As soon as she caught a glimpse of the queen's icy stare, she realized she was under scrutiny. The silent judging eyes and pressed lips were an expression Y/N had become familiar with. It was a mask Amanda Carter wore around her daughter. It was the same expression Peggy or Steve had adopted at the mention of Bucky. Like everyone else, Y/N was sure the late queen would side with the majority on an introduction to her son; it was a bad idea. Despite the warnings attached to the former prince's name, Y/N wasn’t worthy of an official introduction to her son.

Walking through the queen’s garden with another man hadn’t been on her to-do list, but the prince insisted. T’Challa’s presence the past few days had been welcoming. His kindness had been a slap in the face. It was genuine, not a front in the public eye like her parents often reverted to. Given time, she could envision herself falling in love with the prince. If only Bucky would stop invading her thoughts.

“She’s beautiful.”

The comment caught Y/N off guard. Her eyes sliced toward the prince standing beside her. She scanned him from head to toe. His eyes remained trained on the statue, his face contorted in admiration. The back of his right hand rested in his left, clasped behind his back. T’Challa was a tall man, but between his rigid posture and monochrome black outfit, he grew a few inches with one glance.

“A marvelous queen,” he continued.

“Was,” Y/N corrected.

T’Challa’s lips curved into a tender smile. “In my culture, death is not the end. It’s more of a stepping off point.”

“That’s a nice way to look at it,” Y/N hummed. Making eye contact with the statue once more she wondered if that was true. Did Bucky have anyone in his corner, looking out for him?

Making eye contact with the guard pursuing them, T’Challa extended his elbow. Accepting the silent gesture, Y/N latched onto the prince’s arm. His gait turned brisk, creating a massive distance between the guard and them.

“I am not foolish enough to think you love me,” T’Challa began. Y/N's eyebrows skyrocketed. Before she could open her mouth to protest, the prince continued, “Nor do I love you.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N asked, but part of her was relieved. Sure, her mother would be disappointed she wouldn't marry a prince like Peggy, but it wasn’t what Y/N truly wanted, who she wanted.

T’Challa chuckled. “The king’s son, you fancy him.”

Her attempt at ripping her hand from the prince’s arm failed. Wakanda’s prince held his other hand firmly over hers, maintaining the appearance of a couple. He could hear the faint sound of metal rattling behind the pair. With enough distance between them and the guard, T’Challa reassured her. “Don’t fret. Your secret is safe with me.”

Y/N's shoulders dropped, her eyes trained on the cobblestone beneath her feet. “How did you know?’

“The way the two of you evade one another in public. It’s the same way my friend Nakia and I perform in public.”

A gasp tumbled beyond the woman's lips. The lighthearted way he spoke, as if there were no consequences for their actions, had her head spinning.

“Why are you telling me this?” Y/N whispered.

T’Challa glanced at the woman beside him. “I like you, Y/N. A marriage between us would be profitable to both kingdoms. Between you and your sister, the alliance between our kingdoms would be powerful. An alliance by blood. Since we are in identical situations, I figured we could have our own partnership.”

Y/N's heart thrummed beneath her bodice. She tentatively opened her mouth to speak, her shaky voice betraying her, “What do you propose?”

T’Challa smirked at her choice of words. “We wed. We honor the marriage when it comes to politics and the eyes of the public.”

“And the rest of the time?”

“We are free to see whoever or do whatever we want.”

Mulling over the idea, she frowned as the castle came into view along with other lively bodies. So many things could go wrong, but her focus remained wholly on what could go right. This might be her only opportunity to have something with Bucky. If her parents married her off to anyone else, she was confident they wouldn’t offer her the same arrangement.

After gnawing at her bottom lip, Y/N asked, “Is that a formal proposal?”

Y/N stood motionless at her bedroom window. The imaginary rock on her finger weighed her down more than she had anticipated. As a child, the idea of wearing a ring from the love of her life excited her, but now, when she imagined a ring on her finger, she saw nothing but a shackle. One her status would trap her in. Forever stuck in a loveless marriage. It would be the performance of a lifetime, for a lifetime. 

An image of the dark-haired duke flashed through her mind. Would Bucky accept the terms of this new relationship? He didn’t seem to mind Natasha’s career choice, although her performance was exceptional. He had snuck backstage to fuck her. Was that what Y/N had condemned herself to? A life of sneaking around?

A knock at the door had Y/N stepping away from the window. She had only taken a few steps when the door swung open.

“Y/N!” Peggy shouted, racing toward her. The costly fabric of Peggy’s skirt bunched between her fingers.

Bracing herself for the impact, Y/N was able to keep the two of them upright when her younger sister collided with her. Y/N gasped for air crushed between Peggy’s arms.

When Peggy finally pulled away, her hands trailed from Y/N’s biceps to her hands. Pulling both Y/N hands toward her chest, Peggy squealed, “Congratulations! Mother just told me the good news. Steve and I are so thrilled! T’Challa is a great choice.”

Y/N froze. She knew? “What?” Y/N asked exasperated.

Peggy tipped her head, staring at her sister through her eyelashes. “T’Challa asked Father for your hand. Father accepted.”

Y/N gulped. “And Steve knows?”

Peggy rolled her eyes, “Of course! Mother has become the town crier, alerting everyone that not one but two of her daughters will be queens one day.”

Y/N’s stomach churned. It was idiotic of her to think she would have a chance to break the news to Bucky when she couldn’t talk to the man in public. If her mother hadn’t told him, she was sure Steve would.

“The kings are going to sit down soon and discuss the terms of the alliance. Steve and T’Challa will modify it when they are kings.” Noticing the faraway look on Y/N’s face, Peggy squeezed her hands. “None of that matters. I’m just glad you’re going to be taken care of.”

Y/N wanted to ask Peggy if she and Steve had the same arrangement, but she couldn’t without giving her and T’Challa away.

Wide-eyed, Y/N replied, “T’Challa hasn’t even asked me yet. I haven’t said yes.” Y/N knew it was a pointless argument. Her father had accepted the proposal on her behalf. She would be engaged to T’Challa by the end of the week.

Peggy led Y/N to the bed decorated in rich fabrics. When her sister sat beside her, Peggy sighed, crossing her legs. “I know it’s a lot of pressure, but it will be worth it. Trust me. You need a distraction, and I know just the thing.”

Y/N stared blankly back at the younger Carter.

Peggy inched forward. “Truth or dare?”

Y/N huffed a laugh. If there was one thing that could keep Y/N distracted, it was a dare from Peggy. Without missing a beat, she replied, “Dare.”

Peggy licked her lips before a devilish grin overshadowed her angelic features. “I dare you to visit the pleasure house.”

Dumbfounded, Y/N hissed, “The whore house?! Margaret Carter, have you lost your mind?”

The brunette shrugged and then collapsed the rest of her weight on the mattress. She gazed at the ceiling, kicking her dangling feet like a schoolgirl disclosing a secret at a sleepover. Then she rolled onto her side, propping her head into her hand.

The older Carter resembled a fire-breathing dragon. Peggy swore she could see the steam seeping from her sister’s ears.

“Not as yourself, of course.” Peggy rolled her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing. “Look,” she narrowed her eyes. “I overheard the help discussing that the prince will be there.”

“T’Challa?”

Peggy squeezed her lips in a thin line. “Steve.”

Squeezing the bridge of her nose, Y/N moaned. “You want me to spy on your fiance?”

“Some of the guard’s garments are in the washroom. I’m sure something will fit you.”

Y/N scowled. “You’ve gone mad. Why don’t you spy on Steve yourself?”

Peggy pushed herself into a sitting position, twiddling her thumbs. “He’ll recognize me. We’ve spent too much time together. He’ll never expect you, let alone recognize you.” A coy smile graced her lips, “Unless you surrender.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @supraveng @kandis-mom @xycnsstuff @mcu21lover19 @saltedcoffeescotch @unaxv @raven1234321

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Life is better with music

PAIRING | Husband!Dad!Young!Tony Stark x Wife!Mom!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.3K

SUMMARY | Music is something that has always been rooted deep into both your and Tony's families. From playing instruments since you were little to sing to your heart's content, it always brought you together. Now that you have your own family with your wonderful husband, you cannot wait to teach the same values to your own children, too.

RATING | General (G)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Established relationship, use of nicknames (Sunshine, Love/My Love, Munchkins, Babygirl)

A/N | Is this one of the cutest, most sweet things I have ever written for this AU? Probably, yes. I love this family so much, and they have a special place in my heart, so I can't wait to expand on their love story! This is proofread by my biggest supporter and the person I cherish daily, @ccbsrmsf1. Your support for this au keeps me going, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for our favorite family! I love you, and thank you for everything 💜

EVENTS Masterlist | @fluffbruary Fluffbruary '24 | Piano Masterlist | @anyfandomfluffbingo | Musician!Reader

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | Photo: Source

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | AU Masterlist

The first time Tony discovered your musical side caught him off guard. Not in a wrong way, but in a way that made him only love you more and more, which seemed impossible at the time.

"We'll just go to the store, Sunshine. Are you okay to stay home with the Munchkins for a while? You deserve the rest," Tony says as you're sitting on his lap, all of you just finished eating breakfast together. You nod before giving him a soft peck on the lips and getting up, and you need some baby love.

"Of course, My Love," you tell him before picking up little Hudson and holding him close to you; he was getting a little fussy during breakfast, so you put him in the baby carrier. Orion was somewhere between the land of the living and sleeping some more, so you decide to let her be.

"I love you so much, you know that? I'm so lucky to have you in my life and to have these wonderful twins with you. Honestly, they are the cherry on top," Tony whispers to you as he stands behind you, Hudson strapped comfortably on your belly. A broad smile spreads as you lean into your boyfriend's hold, melting into his warmth.

"You should go now. Otherwise, you will never get those groceries," you joke, and with one last kiss, Tony, Howard, and Maria go out the door, ready to do a big grocery haul for the barbecue they'll be hosting for friends and family.

"Shall we get some cleaning done while your Sister is asleep?" you ask Hudson, who has also managed to fall asleep, and you chuckle softly. He's always a quick sleeper when you're carrying him. The dishes are done quickly, and you decide to clean the kitchen, too, now that you have the time.

Once everything is finished, you realize you have some time left before everyone returns, so you sit at the piano that stands proudly in the living room. Hudson and Orion are sharing a play mat. They're happily kicking their feet and making cute noises as if they are talking in their unique language.

Your fingers glide over the keys effortlessly, playing some songs that come to mind before deciding to sing, as you quickly discover your twins enjoy it when you do that. You play the opening notes of ''Make You Feel My Love" by Adele, but as you're singing along, you don't notice Tony, Howard, and Maria returning from their shopping trip.

As soon as Tony sets foot in the house, he hears the piano going, in combination with your beautiful singing voice, and instead of walking to the kitchen, he follows your voice. Standing in the doorway with the groceries still in hand, he listens to you, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he takes in the sight before him.

He didn't know you had a musical side, but discovering you could play piano and sing was something he would never forget. When he looks from you to Hudson and Orion on the play mat, his heart skips a beat, and he feels like he could burst into flames with how much he loves all three of you.

You finally look up when the song ends, only to meet Tony's tear-filled eyes.

"How did I not know you have such a beautiful singing voice, Sunshine? And the fact that you play piano too makes you even more special," Tony tells you as he walks over, the groceries he held earlier long forgotten. He sits down by the piano before capturing your lips with a gentle, love-filled kiss, and you have rarely felt this loved by him.

"I don't know; I often sing for our Munchkins, so how you didn't know is a surprise to me as well!" you joke, and after that, the two of you play the piano together for a while. Howard and Maria decide to let you two be as they're putting everything away. However, their hearts are overflowing with the love clearly visible between you two.

"They're made for each other," Maria tells Howard as they're now standing in the doorway, and Howard agrees.

"They found their soulmate, just like you and me. And they deserve everything this world has to offer them," Howard whispers before grabbing his phone and filming the two of you playing piano, laughing loudly, and having a carefree moment. You couldn't be happier than you are now, and it is still one of your most cherished memories.

Now, you like to take the chance to gather together around the piano and sing for some quality time with everyone. Now that Hudson and Orion are teenagers and Paxton is learning to walk, life seems to fly too fast. But that will never stop you, Tony, Howard, and Maria from gathering together and making music.

"How about we all come together by the piano and sing something? Maybe Tony and Hudson can play guitar, Orion and myself can sing, and Maria can play the piano," you offer, now that Howard has gone to nap after getting caught in a bad migraine flare-up.

Over the years, Hudson has learned to play the guitar from Tony, and Orion can play piano and sing beautifully, so you're curious as to what Paxton will enjoy when he grows up.

"I just need to grab my guitar," Hudson says before going to his room and grabbing it while you and Tony arrange everything around the piano, ready to sing and play music.

"C'mere, little troublemaker! We don't want you going anywhere now that we can't run after you!" Tony says to Paxton, who is already crawling in the opposite direction, and you can't stop laughing at the sight. Your husband running after your toddler, who is surprisingly fast, has you laughing so hard your stomach hurts, yet you can never get enough.

"There we go! You can cuddle with Mommy after I make you a milk bottle; how does that sound?" Tony asks Paxton, and he babbles something in response you can't quite make out. While he's gone to the kitchen with his youngest, Hudson returned with his guitar, getting ready to play.

Not long after, Paxton is on your lap, Orion on your right side, Hudson on your left with Tony beside him, and Maria behind the piano.

"Alright, I'm going to play something, and as soon as you figure out what it is, you can sing and play along!" Maria says enthusiastically, and not long after, the first notes drift through the room. Hudson is the first to play along with his guitar, quickly followed by Tony. Orion is the first to sing along, and you listen for a moment before joining in.

The combination of your voices and different instruments makes Paxton fall asleep in your arms as he drinks. He takes after his older siblings, as they always did the same; the music seemed to lull them to sleep when they were babies.

"Mommy, Daddy? Can you two play and sing together for us?" Orion asks as she looks at both of you, and you give Tony a look of 'why not'?

"Of course, we can, Babygirl," you tell her, and before you even have to say a single word to him, he starts the first chords for 'Make You Feel My Love' by Adele, which has, over the years, become your song. It's one of the songs you danced to during the evening you got together, the night Tony proposed, and your wedding. It has a special place in your heart, and you will happily sing it daily.

As soon as the first words leave your lips, you can feel a few tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, but you're determined to get through it without crying, even if it's just this once. Every memory comes flooding back for you both, and as soon as you hit the higher notes, Tony can feel goosebumps appearing on his arms.

Once the last notes float away in the air, you finally wipe away the tears that escaped. You look at Tony with so much love and appreciation, and there's nothing you wouldn't do to make him feel your love.

[davosmymaster]

The Saddest Part of Me

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, no smut (yet) but mentions of sex/sexual themes, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, mention of past abusive/violent relationship, canon-typical violence, breaking-up, Jake is the fist of Khonshu, Marc and Steven don’t have the suit anymore, post-MoonKnight, my non-native English is a warning itself, no beta

PAIRINGS - Jake Lockley x fem!reader ; Marc Spector x fem!reader ; Steven Grant x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 4.6k

SUMMARY - Tired of Jake’s missions turning deadly, Steven and Marc ask you for help. It backfires.

A/N - This started as first person pov, dont know exactly why but i liked it and went with it. Then it changed after one of the pauses and I was too tired to change it (also i like it as it is) so I didn’t. Don’t read if you are easily triggered. Credits to whoever made the gif. Part two will be up when it’s up.

THE SADDEST PART OF ME

 Toni Morrison once wrote that "love is never any better than the lover". And as if that wasn't a horrible enough claim on its own, she followed with "wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly, stupid people love stupidly."

 I found myself called to those lines and, trapped by the words of a book that had me crying for most of it, I discovered I was more moved by that sentence than I had been for the rest of the novel. Trapped as I was, my mind rushed to find meaning beyond the words. I remembered past flings and failed relationships, abusive exes, and even friendships that hadn't worked. Finally, at last, my eye caught the shape of one of my boyfriends watching a cricket game on tv; as if I hadn't been aware that he was there, as if it was the first time I saw him. Truly, saw him.

 Steven noticed, of course he did. He was always hyperaware of his surroundings and, unlike Marc, he didn't know how to be subtle about it. He leaned back on the sofa, almost melting against it, and looked in my direction with the most relaxed expression he had in weeks. There was one cute smile on his lips; eyes gleaming with comfort after a long week of work. He was finally spending time with his girlfriend, and the time felt valuable for both of us even if each was doing our own thing.

 He must have seen something on my face, something buried and hurt perhaps, something I'm still not very sure of what it was; but something regardless, because his eyes switched off their glow as if someone had thrown a handful of sand over them. His smile trembled slightly, without him ever finding out, as if his body was understanding something he was not. A presage.

 "You feeling alright, love?" he asked.

 Even though I heard him loud and clear, felt his worry as my own in the way he looked at me; my brain did not seem to register. My mind was long gone, far away from there. I was looking at Steven but I had no problem with him. I was looking at his body. No, I was not, either. I was looking at the shell that contained the three men I was in love with. And I just happened to be looking at Steven because he was there —the wrong place at the wrong time— but who I was really looking for in those eyes, the person that deserved to be there at that moment, it wasn't Steven. It wasn't Marc, either.

 It was Jake.

 We'd just had the most terrible month in our relationship. Even though I'd like to say it only concerned Jake and I, it truly did not. Marc and Steven had their role in the problem too, even if it was well-intentioned in the end. Our argument seemed to be over, at least for now. But neither of us had apologized nor had we found a peaceful way out of our trouble.

 No. Not at all.

 It was over because we had both decided we loved each other more than the problem hurt us. Now we were ignoring both the problem still unresolved and the gap his lies had created between us.

 Yes, Jake had lied to me. Repeteadly and over a long period of time. Problem was he didn't regret it at all. My mind had been trying not to think more about the matter, ignoring it, living happily in naivety. In my coping mechanism I was blind to the elephant in the room: Jake didn't regret his actions at all. He didn't regret killing those people and he sure as hell didn't regret lying to me about it.

 That meant only one thing: he would kill again. That is, if he hadn't already.

 As if he could read my mind Steven's frown deepened. He got closer, his hand closing the space that separated us. His thumb very slowly touched my cheek. It was so slow, so gentle, as if he was frightened himself of my stupor. Or even scared of me.

 The slowness did not restrain my soul from shooting back into my body. The jump it caused could only be described as the sensation of falling from an imaginary abyss just as you are about to fall asleep.

 It was right then when I realized Jake wasn't hidden there, in those eyes. It was just Steven. Only sweet and sincere Steven.

 "You alright?" he asked, a worried chuckle dancing on his lips. "I lost you for a moment there, uh. In the land of the dreaming?"

 I smiled, even if I couldn't quite remember how.

 "Yeah, yeah... Sorry I scared you," I said, but still took his hands and put them away from me. All I could think about was those hands unfortunately being a part of Jake. Those pretty hands that belonged to Steven and Marc too, but which had been smeared with thick blood clotting around the nails. All I could see was them holding the gun Jake had been so reluctant to throw away, the small pocket knife he always wore as a key chain.

 "Can I ask you something..." I said then, my words so fast my mind had barely registered them, my tone so devoid of life it sounded as if I was going to ask him to kill me. Maybe I was. "...Steven?"

 I pronounced his name trying to breathe a bit of life into the sentence, but I could already tell by the way his breathing was caught in his lungs that he did not believe my facade for one split second.

 He took my hand in his, the heat warming them but freezing my body at the same time. Those hands...

 "Of course! Of course you can. Bloody hell, why do you even ask it like that?"

 I smiled and, with my thumb, I massaged the deep frown between his eyebrows. He relaxed the muscles there, suddenly aware of his expression.

 Half of me did it for him, because I was starting to feel guilty for worrying him. Half of me did it because my hands felt trapped under his.

 Steven relaxed, smiling once again. Partially relieved.

 "Are Marc or Jake listening?"

 Steven seemed confused at the question at first. He fixed his eyes on my own, but at the same time very far away from there. Then he looked around: at the tv, at any nearby mirrors, even his mug and the tea in it.

 "No, they aren't," he said. "But I can look for them, wake them up, if you want me to."

 "No, no. I just wanted to talk to you for a second."

 Steven tilted his head to one side slightly, confused.

 "Oh, oh. Sure, love."

 That's when my turn of taking his hands in mine came. It was the only way in which I could feel safe in both my question and his answer, in the truth of them, actually. I had never once before questioned Steven. I had blind faith in him, I always had. But as I said, what should have stayed as a Jake and me problem, had somehow tainted Steven and Marc too. Up until this point I had firmly believed I distinguished every single one of them from the others, and treated them accordingly; but now my body was showing me that, in fact, a part of me saw all of them as the same man.

 "If Jake hurt anyone again, you would tell me right away. Right?"

 His eyes shot open. From where I was seating in front of him I could almost hear his heartbeats.

 "Of course! Of course I would. Marc would too. We did it before, right?"

 "Eventually, yeah. After hiding it for months," the tinge of disgust in my voice did not go unnoticed.

 His hands were now trembling.

 "We didn't know what to do! At first we didn't even notice it was something that would affect us. Then I told them. And neither of them listened. We did tell you about Khonshu and we thought it was... implied. But Jake never wanted to kill...!"

 "Okay, okay. Steven. Steven look at me," I said, as he kept talking and talking in a panicked state. "Look at me, okay? You said sorry. Marc, you and I talked about this. It's okay. You said sorry. You're forgiven."

 He stopped talking, pressed his cheek against my hand when I tried to comfort him. He nodded as if trying to absorb my words. But his pupils still jumped slightly, here and there. Restless, unsafe.

 "I would tell you," he finally said with a tiny voice. His eyes welled with tears. "I promise. I promise I would. Please don't go."

 He made me cry too. Almost jumping over him, I hugged him, pretty much estranged him with my arms. I clung to the sweater he was wearing as if holding on for dear life. Steven followed with no less force. He crushed me against his chest, breathing hard into my hair, silently crying. With hands wide open over my whole back, it felt as if he was both trying to memorize the feeling of me in his arms and, holding me in place so I wouldn't abandon him.

 "Why do I feel like you're gonna leave?" he whispered.

 Steven had very little power of the matter, and that fact terrified him beyond reason. He couldn't stop Jake from killing again. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing your disgusted, disappointed, crying face again. But if there was something he could not even think about, that was you breaking up with them, leaving them, hating them. He could not conceive the world without you being the first thing he saw in the morning. He could not go back to be and feel as lonely as he did before. He couldn't.

 Being in this impossible situation, anxiety rising up to the clouds, the only comforting thought he could get was that, if he behaved, if he was good, despite what Jake could do, if he was good and behaved like you wanted him to, then you wouldn't abandon him. You might abandon Jake for being a murderer, but if he proved himself... then you wouldnt —couldn't— leave him.

 In his mind, he is ten years old and doing the dishes at two in the morning so mom will kiss him goodnight.

 Stupid people love stupidly

 Regaining someone's trust is not an easy task, everyone says that, but no one talks about how complicated it is to regain intimacy with the other person.

 It's not about sexual intimacy. That's easy, perhaps too easy. And Jake makes it even easier; he knows what buttons to push, where and when to touch you so you're left wanting more, pursuing him yourself against your own judgement. It's the other intimacy that is difficult to get back, the type in which you start talking about life and don't finish until dawn. It's about the cuddles, the feeling of being comfortable around each other, planning stuff to do together because you don't want to —not even think about— doing it with anyone else. Before Marc and Steven told you what Jake had done, asking you to help him stop, it wasn't uncommon for you and Jake to dance around the kitchen while cooking; both slow and quick Latin songs playing through the speakers. He loved to dance bachata, you loved to see him happy.

 Now your home is silent, the closeness complicated. The kitchen doesn't smell like spices anymore, and even the flat seems to have become darker. Maybe London has become darker, maybe the entire world has shunned the sun.

 Jake promises one day that he will never do it again. He waits for you to be in bed and slides under the covers. For a long time, he says nothing; he's still hesitating. Jake isn't sure he can keep this promise he is about to make. After all, he doesn't kill people because he likes it; he does it because they are necessary.

 Eventually, when he feels your breathing evening out, he knows if he doesn't do it you will never trust him again. And so he does it; unsure and scared, but is anyone ever not unsure and scared? he asks himself.

 You hug him tight then. It's the closest he's felt to you in a month. He's missed you more than he dares to admit. So he buries his hands in you, in your hair, your back, your shoulders, the back of your thighs. He doesn't want to let go. All he wants is for time to stop. If he could choose where to live for the rest of his life, he would live in the exact spot between your jaw and neck that his nose is caressing just now. He would die there, too.

 You're the only good thing in his life. Everyone knows that.

 Suddenly a month has passed, a more than reasonable amount of time for you to start letting your guard down. Jake has been so patient and careful that you start to feel like a fool for creating this awkward space between the two of you; although the truth is, it's not your fault.

 There are only fifteen days to your anniversary, or at least the start of it, as each of the boys takes an entire day to celebrate it with you. That makes your anniversary a weekend-long thing. With your anniversary so close, you feel an overwhelming sensation of hopelessness. And in the midst of your nostalgia for what you were, and loathing what you've become, you ask Jake to forget anything ever happened. He complies.

 The following is your day off, but Jake has work in the evening. Still, that doesn't stop him from scheduling a date. He takes you out for brunch to the most beautiful restaurant you've ever seen. You are seated on the inner patio. There is a fountain there, and the decoration is Bukowski books on small shelves and flowering vines on the walls.

 You sit on a pallet drilled into the wall. It has beautiful rainbow-coloured cushions to sit on. Jake takes the chair in front of you, but he's too far away for your liking. Instead, you take his arm and ask him to sit a bit closer. Jake takes the seat next to you, not even his flat cap concealing the happiness glowing in his eyes. As he sits down, as if by a reflex, he puts one of his hands on your thigh. He caresses your knee for a few seconds before taking the menu and placing it in front of you to decide what you both will be having, together.

 Two hours later both of you are taking a walk in Hyde Park. It's January, but the sun is shining over your heads anyway. Jake has never been one to be affectionate in public, but now he has his arm around your shoulders as you walk. Your face hurts from laughing and smiling. This is exactly what you missed, just what you needed. It all gets worse when, just before you leave, a squirrel chases Jake across the parking lot.

 Jake drives you home, he drives slowly through London because he doesn't want to let you go. He doesn't want today to end. He stops the car at the beginning of the street because there's a street market today and he can't get through. He stops the car there, double-parked because it is impossible to park anywhere else in the city. He gets out of his limousine at the same time you do. With a quick, determined step he circles the limousine, and you wonder what the hell he's doing. Then, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. His lips brush yours, it's barely a caress until it's not. All you feel is him, his love, his warmth, the fabric of his driving gloves on your cheeks.

 "Thank you," he whispers.

 It feels like an I love you, so you take it that way.

 Unfortunately, the honeymoon phase lasted just one more day.

 He had no other choice, he wouldn't have ever risked another fight with you if he had the option not to. In fact, it was an accident. The fault wasn't entirely his. Yet Jake was so scared that you could see what he had done in his eyes, through his soul, that he drove to the other end of London and fell asleep in the back of the limo, on the plain floor.

 Steven had panicked so much that his consciousness disconnected. He was nowhere to be found. Marc, on the other hand, was going through all five stages of grief. He had gone from calling him every single insult in the English language to denying that Jake had done anything. By the time Jake decided to get back home, Marc was in full depression stage. Thinking of the worst.

 Even if he wanted to shut down the way his alters were doing, he couldn't. Jake cared for the others to an obsessive extent. All his life, he had taken the hard punches. He had killed so the others wouldn't have to, he had taken his mother's beatings with not a single tear shed, he took insults and humilliations; he took Elias' calls begging Marc to come back home when he ran away, he took the hardest parts of military training and most life-or-death situations that followed.

 He took Khonshu. He was still taking Khonshu.

 Marc and Steven had enough of the god, but someone had to do the work anyways. After all, the pigeon had only freed the other two. And if Moon Knight and Mr Knight wouldn't fight, then Jake Lockley would have to do. Someone had to protect the travellers of the night, that's what Khonshu had said when Jake asked him to free him as well.

 He was still debating what to do, whether to keep it from you or not, when Steven made the decision for him.

 "Jake," he spoke, appearing out of nowhere. "If you don't tell her yourself, I will."

 He grabbed the steering wheel tight. He saw red for a split second, then focused on the road ahead.

 "What?" he almost barked.

 "You heard me."

 "Si será hijueputa- Who do you think you are?"

 Steven said nothing else despite Jake's attempts to provoke him. His silence only made him even more nervous. He insulted him for twenty minutes, called him things he didn't really mean, until eventually, he stopped.

 "Okay, Steven, have it your way," he said. "Just give me some time to think how."

 "You have an hour."

 The image Jake formed on his mind was nowhere close to the moments following his confession. Yet it was somehow even worse. The smile from your face vanished quickly into a thin line, your eye became dull, absorbed by something far away from there. Whatever you were thinking, whatever images were playing inside your brain, he just hoped it wasn't him covered in blood.

 Your sight was lost somewhere on the small dots that covered the kitchen table, round wounds in the wood like gunshots. Your index flew to one of them, rubbing your fingertips against it for a few seconds, then giving up and lifting your head to look at him again. Crossing your arms over your chest as if you were cold.

 "What do you expect me to do now?" you asked. If death had a voice, Jake was certain it would sound like yours. "You promis-."

 "I know," he said. He inhaled oxygen, but seemed to exhale despair. He moved quickly from where he was standing at the other end of the table. With a squeak he took the chair right next to you and sat down. "I don't expect you to forgive me, but I had to-"

 "You had to." you spat. "Was someone pointing a gun to your head?"

 "Actually, yeah..." he responded, lips pressed as not to laugh. He forgot to mention he was also caught by the throat, until the other guy pulled the trigger and Jake moved his attacker's head in the trajectory of the bullet. "But I don't think that changes anything, does it?"

 He saw what he thought was doubt in your eyes. Although he could have easily have mistaken it for the misery drowning your pupils. Deep down —perhaps not so deep— Jake couldn't understand why you cared so much for these people. Sure, he didn't like to have other people's blood on his hands, but at the end of the day many of them deserved to be dead. Jake wasn't getting why there was so much fuss about the matter. All he cared about was you, though. And if you cared, that made the matter grow in importance. He didn't care about hurting his enemies the same way he didn't care if he found a wallet on the street and didn't return it; sure, it wasn't ideal, but it was their loss, not his.

 He took your hand the same way you had once done with Steven. He tried to comfort you somehow. Jake wasn't good with words. In fact, he didn't think he were any good with anything except his job, his work for Khonshu, and fucking your brains out. He had never had the need to protec anyone who didn't already live in his body; but he cared about you too much, and didn't want you to suffer.

 Then, you took your eyes out of his fingers warming your cold ones. With the same expression and voice but dry eyes, you spoke

 "I think we need to break up."

 Jake blinked a few times, nodded, too; but his mind had not caught up on the words. He looked at your eyes again, confused by your pitied expression.

 Then he chuckled, lips tightly closed.

 "What?"

 "I said..." a shaky breath came out of your mouth. "I said I... we need to break up."

 Jake felt his chest and throat close up, the bile still rising to his mouth somehow. He coughed once, when he felt the acid burning its path, then rose up from the chair, swallowed. When he got to the window, he realized he was shaking. A hand tugged from the roots of his hair.

 "¿Qué dijiste?" he asked, turning around to look at you. He looked at his reflexion in a mirror right next to his face, found his own face, not a trace of the others, but asked them anyway. "¿Qué dijo la pendejita esta?"

 Rage was quickly starting to burn up in his veins. Slowly, as not to scare him further, you walked closer.

 "I'm sorry, Jake," you told him, now your own eyes welling with tears. His arms wanted to take you, hold you, tell you everything is going to be fine; but you were only crying because you were hurting him. And you know it. And you know it. And he hates it.

 "Don't fucking-" he said, although he doesn't even know where the sentence is going. His body was not reacting to his command, not even breathing properly. He doesn't understand why his mouth tastes bitter, or why you're trying to hurt him saying that.

 He touched his face because there was something there bothering him. Dust, maybe a particle of something, an eyelash stuck in his eye, whatever. But when he touches it, his finger are wet.

 Oh, a tear.

 Before your body could make contact with his he held both your arms to stop you, his fingers curled around your forearms, your eyes filled with tears only half shed.

 "You can't," he said, then chuckled again like a madman. "You could never."

 He was so sure, too sure, there was not an ounce of doubt in his mind. He seemed so certain that his back straightened, his breathing evened out. He seemed calmed and it confused you. Were you driving him mad?

 "You can't," he repeated, halfway to a chuckle again. "You could never break up with the others, you love them way too much."

 His claim broke your own heart. The only reason Jake had for believing you would stay with him through thick and thin, was because he believed you wanted the others too much. The pieces of your heart crashed, splinters flew away, you could no longer feel it beating. You ached for him, but that didn't change anything.

 "Jake I'm not breaking up with the others," you said, and regretted there was not a kinder way of doing it. "I'm breaking up with you."

 He thought he heard a relieved breath then, and he lost it, completely lost it. It could have been the air coming in through the partially opened window, it could have been the tv still on, or even the kettle still complaining as the water cooled off. But he lost it all the same, not even knowing if the sound had come from Steven and Marc in the headspace or something entirely different. He took the mirror next to him and punched it, hard. The splinters covered his knuckles, blood rushed through the wounds to the to the rhythm of his heart.

 Violent people love violently.

 "Putos cabrones," he insulted them, but his tone was softer that he meant, breathy even.

 "Jake, baby... don't."

 He let you touch him this time. You kept still crying and he hated it. As his concern for you grew, so did his hatred. Your cold hands held both his cheeks, your lips pressed against his forehead just once. The blood staining his white shirt, his whole uniform. He had never gotten it ripped or even stained in a fight, and he was partially embarrassed that the first time he got it stained was because of his own blood, his own wounds.

 You kept saying things, words that he supposed should sound comforting. But he was not listening, not at all.

 "Why are you doing this to me?" he whispered, then his knees gave up under him. "I trusted you. I trusted you."

 "I can't." you told him, begging him to understand. "I had a relationship before, one where he would tell me he was going to change, promise me, and then go back to treating me the same, and I forgave him. And he would do the same thing to me again. And I forgave him. I can't go through that again, baby. Not again. Not with you."

 Jake wanted to scream. He wanted to ask you why you could be patient with others but had not the same patience for him. But he didn't. He stayed silent. He knew such a question would hurt you. Countless times had he hold you while you cried for your past, for how others had mistreated you. The thought that he had done the same was burying him alive. He wanted to melt, pass through the wooden planks on the floor, fall until he reached the barren land, then be swallowed by dirt itself; become nothing.

 He wiped the tears from his face, leaving a bloody trail wherever his fingers touched. You blinked in front of him a few times, shaky lips he wanted to kiss saying goodbye gave him, instead, a bit of hope.

 "Violence is easy, Jake, it's the easy path," you told him. "I can't- I won't be with another violent man. If you show me you can change, I promise you'll have me forever."

 He nodded. He had a mission now.

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