#very correct tony stark

[marvel-lous-guy]

*Tony walks into the kitchen to see Peter taped to lots of frying pans with a sieve on his head*

Tony: What are you doing?

Harley: Making our Halloween costumes

Tony: And what exactly are you going as?

Peter: Peter Pan!

Tony: ...

Harley: *tapes another frying pan to Peters torso*

[kayvsworld]

every time i see someone trying to label specifically what tony’s mental health situation is or isn’t i pour one out for natasha romanoff who entered the ring at the worst possible moment (he’s dying he’s got heavy metal poisoning he’s actively lying to everyone around him he’s very recently traumatized) under orders from her boss to decide, definitely, on paper what mentally is going on with this man. like girl you are not qualified

[flumet]

Okay so I have conflicted feelings about the whole rdj doctor doom announcement

But does this mean we could get a movie where Peter fights a doctor doom (potentially from another universe) and then doom's mask comes off and Peter has to stare into the face of Tony Stark again?

[magnusmodig]

||. finally going to bed thinking about lore - keeper asgardians . thinking about how intelligence and wisdom are one of their favored traits. thinking about how thor is the best of every asgardian ideal . thinking about how he is wise . thinking about his street - smarts . thinking about how he is also knowledgeable in legends , lore , and folktale. he is adaptable . he takes this knowledge , adapts to it , and crafts himself into something stronger. he is ever growing , and one of those ways is how he seeks out knowledge , and knows well to keep a sharp mind on the tales told by word of mouth or written on a page.

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #47

[hurtspideyparker]

One night in the lab Peter finds an old prototype of the EDITH glasses and puts them on.

"Look Mr. Stark! I am Iron Man," he says with a deep voice.

"C'mon kid, that's the best impression you got?" Tony says before looking up.

He sees Peter with those rectangular frames and big grin. For a moment he thinks he's looking at old publicity photos of himself. A confident Tony Stark, tinted glasses and cocky smile, hair fluffed up and oozing manly charm.

Tony's easy smile drops a bit at the thought of Peter being anything like who he used to be.

"Oh sorry for talking over you Ms. Potts I just like the sound of my own voice more than hearing about the safety of our company. I'm too cool to apologize so I'll buy you a zoo for endangered species later honey," Peter tries again with the mocking deep voice.

Tony is quick to recover from the odd deja-vu feeling of seeing the teenager in the frame of a mirror, focusing back on his hologram.

"Yeah because I call the love of my life by her last name. And for your information it was an alpaca sanctuary, and she loved it." Tony corrects, pointing a pen at Peter in rebuke without looking up from his work.

"I chose to be respectful over accurate. Also I saw those alpaca photos and one of them was trying to chew on her skirt, she didn't look very impressed." Peter replies with a matter of fact press of his lips.

Tony glances back at the boy only to find himself unable to look away. He can't help but hear echoes of "I just wanted to be like you!" when he sees the boy wearing frames reminiscent of Tony's classic fashion sense.

Tony thinks about Howard, how he used to run laps to prove he was good enough, better than, worthy of being his son.

He was never enough for Howard.

"You're always better at remembering that kind of stuff than me anyways kid."

Peter is taken back by the earnest tone the older man suddenly possesses. His mouth opens but no words come out in reply, Tony looking at him as if he can see right through the spiderling.

"Now stop playing with my old crap and c'mere, we have some important decisions to make," Tony waves him over to look at something on his phone.

When Peter gets close enough he sees that it's a food delivery app, Tony's fingers hovering between an Indian and Thai restaurant.

Peter shoots him another grin, "I vote for samosas!"

Tony rolls his eyes but clicks on the Indian restaurant anyways.

Peter notices in the reflection of the phone that he still has the glasses on, reaching up to remove them before Tony puts a hand on his wrist to stop him.

"Keep em on, it's the first time you've ever looked cool enough to hang out with me. The tech in those is useless anyways, they're just a pair of sunglasses now."

Peter looks up at his mentor with such awe and admiration that Tony nearly melts like butter under the sun.

Tony may not do many things right when it comes to people, but he knows that even when he was still young and naive he'd known better than to ever look at Howard like that.

So maybe there's one thing he hasn't screwed up.

[traveler-at-heart]

Across the Natashaverse - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Summary: After you're sent to another world, Natasha has to deal with yourself, from another universe, and a very different life.

Other POV from this fic.

“Put more weight on your left foot” Natasha says, barely checking America’s movements.

Of course she knows this is important. Maria asked her to train Chavez in the basics of hand to hand combat. Her mind is elsewhere, though.

Especifically, you.

Natasha thought she was doing you a favor, she really did. Someone as kind as you could do much better than her. Agreeing to a date would only give you false hope, so she rejected the invitation.

It was foolish of her to think that things would be the same after that. You weren’t distant or rude, though that might have been easier.

Every morning, you’d still have breakfast with her, show her funny videos or tell her about your latest discoveries in the lab with Stark, which in the end, were related to her work as well.

You simply stopped sharing your interests, or going out of your way to seek her company. Long gone were the days of sitting together at the Met while you talked about your favorite paintings. Or the grocery shopping that turned into strolls through Central Park and ended in your favorite bookshop.

All that was left now were pleasantries.

“Am I doing it right?” America asks. She sure as hell isn’t, so Natasha shakes her head, hoping she can manage to focus on the task at hand.

“Stop” she says, stepping on the sparring mat.

“Please don’t tell me you want me to fight you”

“You’re punching the air, Chavez. The only way to learn is by doing. It will be fine”

The girl doesn’t seem too convinced, but Natasha starts with slow movements and corrects America as they go. When the intensity of the training increases, the girl’s powers begin to stir. A yellow flash on the ceiling distracts Natasha, and the next thing she feels is America’s fist colliding with her cheek.

“Crap! Agent Romanoff, I’m so sorry”

But there’s another loud thud, not far from the gym.

“Did you hear that?” Natasha asks, trying to figure what the noise is.

“Maybe”

“Take a break” Natasha instructs, looking around the room to check if everything’s alright. The team is still figuring out the extent of her powers and Natasha worries the girl just unleashed a demonic creature or something.

The redhead is so focused on the room, she doesn’t notice someone approaching.

That is, until she feels a hard slap on her ass, and a sultry voice against her ear.

“There’s my favorite ass-assin”

Five seconds later, she has the intruder upside down, back against the floor, gasping for air.

“Baby, I know you don’t like my jokes but this is a little too much, don’t you think?”

It takes her a second to process what’s happening.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, love” you smirk, all smug despite being knocked down by Natasha. “The weirdest thing just happened, I was going to get a snack because Anya was moody and then fell on my ass right outside the gym”

Natasha stares at you, as if you’re speaking a foreign language. And then it all clicks. The slightly longer hair, how you smell and feel different.

She let’s go of you and starts pulling your shirt by the collar.

“Hell yeah, let’s get naked”

“Where’s your birthmark?”

“I don’t have a…”

“You’re from another world”

“Ah, that’s so sweet…” you try to lean forward and kiss her, but she pushes you away. “Babe, I’m getting mixed signals here”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., call for an emergency meeting”

—

“I’m sorry, she’s what?” Sam points at you, and Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

“She’s from another universe. America must have opened up a portal when we were training”

“Alright, so she just opens it back and we correct the mistake”

“It’s not that simple” Tony walks in.

“Uhm, guys. This meeting should be for Avengers only” you lower your voice, eyeing the man suspiciously.

“Hello? That table you’re sitting in so carelessly. Mahogany. Paid by me”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen this man before”

“A world without Tony Stark” Steve says, amused.

“Must be really quiet in your Compound” Sam says and you smirk.

“Why, no thanks to you. Not with all those super models you’re always bringing back to your room” you raise your eyebrows and Sam’s eyes widen.

“I date super models? I wanna go to her world”

Steve and Tony begin to argue about how that will make the multiverse collapse, when Natasha interrupts them.

“She’s messing with you, idiots”

Tony and Sam look at each other and then at you. You almost fall to the ground as you laugh. Since you’re not helpful, the team ignores you as they keep discussing the best way to identify your reality and correct the glitch.

“Y/N 2.0, we need more information about your… where did she go?” Tony grumbles.

“I got this” Natasha sighs, stomping to the kitchen. Sure enough, you’re rummaging through the fridge, complaining at every item of food you find.

“Don’t you have anything with sugar here?”

“You’re free to prepare anything for yourself”

“Not unless you want the kitchen to explode, Nat”

The redhead pushes you aside, while you look around the living room, inspecting the pictures on every place you can find.

“No wedding? Or Anya?”

“Nope” Natasha says, her voice shaking lightly.

“Why?”

“None of your business” she says, handing you a plate with a sanwich.

“Thanks. How did you know I was lying about Stark and Wilson?”

“Your voice gets all high pitched when you tell a lie” she answers, refusing to look at you.

“Huh” you mumble, taking a bite out of the sandwich. “Um. Is this peanut butter?”

“Would her Highness prefer caviar?” Natasha teases, but turns around and finds you covered in hives. “Shit!”

“That’s fine” you say, struggling to breathe. “Nothing an epi can’t fix, love”

You pass out in the middle of the kitchen, wondering if you’ll leave this foreign universe in one piece.

—

After leaving you at the medbay, Natasha goes back to the meeting room. She’s examining all the reports and missions that are related to multiverses. It’s a lot to digest, including all the quantum physics.

Alone for the first time since this whole thing started, she finally allows herself the chance to miss you. Right around this time, you’d be making dinner, and she’d be in the kitchen, pretending to help just to be close to you.

What if she never gets you back?

“Hello, there” a voice says. You approach slowly, knowing it’s best not to surprise her.

“How are you feeling? I’m really sorry…”

“There’s no way you could have known. It honestly never occurred to me that things like allergies were different” you say, patting her leg. “Interested in string theory?”

“Yeah, it’s a great ice breaker” Natasha says, and you chuckle. “You don’t seem too worried”

“The America Chavez of my world has had a bit more training. I’m sure I’ll be back home for lunch tomorrow”

“You could have said something!” Natasha feels the need to kick your ass again.

“Hey, I was gonna! And then I almost died”

“Jerk”

“What are you so worried about? She’s in a safe world”

“What if your Natasha gave Y/N a similar welcome?”

“Oh, I’m sure she had her pinned to a wall, only for very different reasons”

Natasha turns to you, alarmed. Her jealousy is so obvious that all you can do is laugh.

“There it is. I wasn’t sure you had any feelings towards her. Wanna tell me what happened?” you nudge her chair with your foot and she looks at you, annoyed.

“She asked me out, gave me flowers, I said no”

“Flowers, huh? Well, she’s more romantic than me. Natasha and I were pretending to be a couple for a mission and then I just blurted out I wouldn’t mind doing it again under different circumstances” you explain, laughing at the memory.  “But hey, if flowers and chocolates aren’t your thing, I respect it”

“It’s not like that”

“Then, what is it like?”

She thinks back to all the times you’ve made her feel safe, cared for, loved. You make it look so easy, but for the life of her, Natasha can’t figure out how to reciprocate.

What you make her feel, is too good and beautiful for someone like her.

“I haven’t earned her love” is all she manages to say.

“Natasha” you call, softly, and only speak when she finally turns to you. “You don’t have to do anything to be deserving of love”

There is silence, and then you take her hand in yours.

“Come on, I’m starving. Let’s grab some Chinese”

“Fine. No more peanut butter, though. I don’t want to fight myself if something happens to you”

“Now that would be entertaining”

—

Next morning, everyone is back in the meeting room. Apparently, due to some bad experiences, they’ve decided you should come back to your world immediately, before the universes collapse.

“I promise you, it will be fine” you insist. Natasha is the only one that seems to believe you, so you save yourself the trouble and spin around in the office chair.

“Can you stop?” Steve says, irritated.

“I’m trying to create a vortex that is powerful enough to send me back to my reality, Steve” but he still glares and you stand up. “Fine. I’m getting a snack”

As you exit the room, Natasha comes running behind you.

“Wait. I wanted to apologize”

“Steve is an old grumpy man, don’t sweat it”

“No, not about that. I’m sorry for… being so hard on you when you first got here”

“We deal with aliens and all kinds of threats.  It’s not so crazy to think that an intruder is dangerous. It’s all good, Nat” you shrug your shoulders.

“I just wouldn’t be ok if your Natasha had acted that way with my Y/N”

“Your Y/N?” you repeat, pleased as Natasha blushes. “Good for you, Romanoff. Get the girl. Trust me when I say, she’ll make it worth it” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“Such a flirt”

“We can’t help ourselves around you, no matter the universe”

You wink, and walk to the kitchen, leaving Natasha in the hallway.

Inevitably, she thinks about you. The one that belongs here, with her. Are you enjoying your time in that other universe? Will you resent her for bringing you back? Maybe that Natasha is more loving and sweet, and you’ll finally realise that she can’t actually make you happy…

Her thoughts begin to spiral again, until the commotion in the room breaks her train of thought.

“Damn, you fell from the ceiling” Sam says, looking up. A yellow portal closes just as Natasha opens up the door. Everyone’s around you, and when your face comes to view, Natasha’s heart almost stops.

There’s a little cut and bruising from the fall, but you’re back.

She pushes everyone, and wraps you in her arms. You return the gesture.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s me”

She hugs you closer, smiling against your neck.

Natasha’s never letting go again.

—

“So, tell me everything!” you say, sitting next to Natasha as you drive back home. “Did I tell you I almost died to peanut exposure?”

“Looks like someone had fun” your wife comments and you smile.

“What about you, my love? Did you do anything dirty with my other self?”

“Well, there might have been some kissing and touching before I noticed…”

“Not to brag, but the other Natasha was on top of me” you say, trying to pretend like it’s no big deal your wife kissed another you.

“You pissed her off and she threw you to the ground, didn’t she?” Natasha smirks.

Damn it.

“Maybe”

Seeing your daughter brings you back to reality. Fun as it was to be in another universe, your life is perfect here.

“Mommy, are you cooking dinner again tonight?” the girl says as you carry her to the kitchen.

“Uh… let’s have lunch first, yes? Go wash your hands”

Natasha hands you a plate of what the other Y/N made and you gasp.

“Holy crap, this is delicious! Babe, not gonna lie, I wouldn’t have judged you if you fucked her against a wall after tasting her food”

“You’re such an idiot” Natasha rolls her eyes, sitting on your lap and stealing a bite of the pasta. “But you are my idiot”

“Always and in every universe, baby”

You kiss her softly, happy to be home.

[ronearoundblindly]

Drabble Birthday Ask!

Reader finally 'catches' the thing Steve's been hiding... it's that he's tired. He's tired, and he thinks it's non-inspiring or embarrassing or a burden, and he has been acting weird to cover for that.

Steeeeeeb!!!! Yes of course some TLC for Stevie. Excellent. Would recommend. 11 out of 10. Always give him the peace and safety! (Don't hate me though; it's just a bit of established relationship fluff!)

I am uncharacteristically skipping the part where you confront Steve about this. Yes, that's right. Remain calm. Ro has passed up the opportunity to write an argument. Hold your applause. WC idk but probably 2k or less (bit of a surprise at the end, too 🤭)

It's so easy.

It's just so damn easy to lose track, to keep going, to repeat. One more conversation. One more chore. One more hour. One more day. One more.

More. Constantly more.

Steve is very good at giving more. He is consistent, constant, incessant, but you can see now that despite his unending strength, your husband can't hide that drawn, fragile look behind his eyes any longer.

Sometimes, that's life.

"Actually, scratch that shit," Tony says with a flagrant point to your face as you chat. "Life is always like that. I know what Big Guy needs, don't you worry. Consider it sorted."

This speed-date style convo tumbles through a ten-second-savoring of tea. You got one cryptic sentence about 'how you're doing' in before Tony perfectly translates your meaning.

For once, more is unnecessary. He knows.

Stark, however, doesn't even have a moment to finish the turn up of his lips in a smile before his watch is pinged.

His eyes focus to the inside of his glasses. "Go for the World's Most Fashionable Hero," he deadpans, wandering off with his mug clasped like a lifeline in his hands.

Yeah, you know that feeling. Wit's End must be as contagious as pinkeye 'round these parts.

Steve's been silent for the last hour of the car ride. He checks the address. He checks the map. He checks the road. That's it.

Music he usually hates has been playing for fifty-one minutes and counting. No reaction.

Clearly, you were right to ask Stark for help.

The gravel drive up to the cabin is bumpy, and Steve apologizes for having to go so slowly.

"Almost there. I think it's--yeah, there. Okay, we're here." Your husband flips the key back and out of the ignition, a stunted sigh forcing it's way past his tight shoulders, immediately opening the door and heading for the trunk. "I'll get the bags. You get the--"

"Steve? Will you come with me for a sec?"

He looks at you--really sets his eyes on you--for the first time since loading the car.

"What's wrong?"

You crunch up to the short staircase to the long porch. "Just come up here, please."

It takes another wave of your hand in encouragement before Steve abandons the small duffels and totes. He's not used to leaving a man behind. He's got a mission. He's supposed to finish the job. Always one more thing.

More. Constantly more. That's Steve's life, and he does it without complaint. Never, ever complaining, even when he should.

His heavy, tired feet fall hollowly on the wood.

"We're starting now," you chirp, excited to surprise him.

Steve tips his bodyweight to lean on the banister, crossing his ankles before crossing his arms, his head down while sneaking a squint-and-blink to try and bounce his energy back.

"Sure, what's first on the list?"

"Oh, no," you correct. "The list is mine. Those are my activities for the weekend. You are here."

His brow furrows. "What? You're gonna--"

"Steve." You gently hold onto his arms. "I mean, you have nothing to do. Not a single thing. And I don't care where you do it, but you will be doing nothing all weekend. Sleep in the bed, on the couch, on the dingy over there, hell, right here on the porch swing. It doesn't matter. It's your rest, but you must rest."

"What about--"

"Nope."

"Or if--"

"Uh-uh, definitely not."

Steve looks slightly panicked. "Dinner?" he tries in a last-ditch effort to be useful every minute of every day.

"There is a bag of stuff that I will be dumping into a crockpot and walking away from, so, no, you can't do that either."

He's still not sure, eyes glassy and flickering about.

"There's fruit for breakfast, veggies and dip for snacks, and we don't have to even turn on the stove unless we want to. Now--" you release him "--I'm putting stuff away and--"

Steve opens his mouth to argue.

"--and not one word out of you. Not one, sweets. Go. Be free. Sleep. Stare at the water, or a wall, or the ceiling for all I care, but you have nothing else to do today. Okay?"

His eye twitches, a half-hearted glare melting into a challenge in his tight jaw.

"Okay???" you prod.

His hands fling out in defeat. "You told me not to say a word," he whines, automatically making his way back down the stairs.

"No bags," you scold.

He whips around, almost muttering.

"No bags." You rush down and past him toward the car. "And I will bring you looser clothes to sleep in."

"You--"

"AH!"

"But--"

"What did I just say, Rogers?"

Now he just looks petulant, a familiar mood in your household.

You stubbornly point to the cabin. "Go on. Git!"

He watches you bring in the mindfully-light bags you packed up for the trip, pouting and scowling in equal measure.

Steve has to show off at least once by snatching up a bit of potato that rolled across the counter in the transfer of dinner.

Instead of thanking him, you shove a t-shirt and thin sweats at his chest.

He fakes an oof of surprise and traps you for a quick kiss before going to change. He does leave you alone for the rest of setting up.

Steve is dead asleep on the deep, two-seater porch swing when you head to the little work shed, his knees bent so he faces in, his forehead buried in cushion to block out daylight, already snoring softly.

You have to hold your hands to your chest so as not to touch him. Tears of joy prick your eyes seeing him relax so quickly.

Steve can follow orders when he wants to, you think with a smile.

In the garden shed, Pepper has all the cool crafting things, and you putz around with some wood pieces and paints for a couple of hours. You walk the perimeter of the cabin to find some nice wildflowers for a table centerpiece, mixing delicate stems of blue buds with expansive wisps of white and little pops of yellow. You attempt to figure out the dingy but decide against going on the water alone yet. Maybe tomorrow.

At no point does Steve move.

When you walk up to the house, fist full of flowers, he's out cold, softly swaying in the breeze as the gusts pick up in the afternoon.

You snack and listen to music in your headphones, doze in the bed after the sun warmed you a little too much, and then wake to the smell of stew.

The beep of the crockpot wakes him.

Bedhead and pillow mishmarks on his cheek look great on Steve Rogers.

Without argument, he washes his hands and sits at the reclaimed wood table.

Steve says only two things:

"Thank you" when you set a large bowl in front of him, and "can you pass the salt?" after he taste-tests the meal.

He reads a book until falling asleep for the night with you, curled with his knees bent again.

He does well.

He keeps resting, multiple times with his book open on his chest, barely to halfway after hours and hours of holding on to the browning paperback pages.

He rests in the bed. He rests on the couch. He rests (again) on the porch swing. Finally, he rests in your lap while you both float on the lake in the dingy.

He rests with you by his side. He rests with you in his arms. He rests even when you leave to do something else. It's exactly what you wanted, what he needed, and how it should be.

Steve mumbles a fair few things, but the most important thing is that none of it is important enough to articulate. He doesn't have to talk. He doesn't have to be heard. He doesn't have to be understood.

He only has to rest, and he's following orders well. He's completing his mission.

It is truly fascinating how close you can feel without words--okay, so you two aren't completely non-verbal for the weekend, but there are no long conversations. After being married for a while, those are not entirely necessary. You know each other too well for all that; Steve simply feels the stigma of being weak and tired from his youth.

He holds himself to a different, impossible standard. He thinks of it as pushing the limits of his serum, as offering everything he has to others, as respecting those he cares for by shouldering burdens. You think it's stupid.

It is the only stupid thing Steve Rogers does.

Now, after days of resting, you're pretty sure Steve knows he was being stupid.

You hope he knows he can ask for help or a break whenever he wants, before he needs it this badly.

To your great delight, Steve gathers up his things that were left around the house, but he leaves the actual packing to you. This is very helpful in keeping the final surprise.

He's watching the water, sitting up in the porch swing for once with an arm thrown over the back, an easy, calm smile stretched across his face, the first you've seen in months if you're being honest.

Steve gestures for you to join him, but you bite your lip and check the gravel drive.

Exactly on schedule, an engine revs and wheels crackle over the gravel.

You wink at your husband just as excited shouts ring out from Tony's fancy car.

"Papa! Papa! Look what Morgan and I found at the beach!"

"I made you a seashell necklace, Momma. You, too, Pops."

Your children race up the porch steps and jump into the space below Steve's arm.

His smile is still easy, but perhaps a little more excited than calm.

More. Constantly more.

But it's not all tiring...

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay

@rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Devil Wears Armani 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re the CEO’s new PA and you find the work too much to handle. (short!reader)

Characters: Tony Stark, this reader is known as Georgie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

—posting to the correct blog lol—

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

The appletini at girls' night does little to ease you through a restless night. You’re not a traveller. You’ve never flown before. The only reason you have a passport is it was required for the job. You didn’t expect to actually use it. 

You give into consciousness around 3am and double check your bag for everything you need. You forego your usual coffee as you fear an anxious bladder adding to your addled state. You still can’t figure out why Mr. Stark told you to come along. You don’t have anything blocked into his calendar. He’s had weekend meetings before but you usually pop into zoom to take notes and nothing else. 

You spare the fare for a cab as the streetcar isn’t in service yet and you don’t feel like venturing into the underground at this hour. The ride is swift in the dead streets of the city. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them so empty. 

You arrive at the airport and realise you’re missing a very important piece. A boarding pass? Terminal information? Any sort of direction to find where you need to be. Well, it never hurts to ask for help even if you don’t get it. 

You enter and go to the counter. The woman behind it looks tired as dark rings stain her sockets and she fixes her smile to greet you. You nervously clench your jaw and exhale through your nose. 

“Hi, I... I’m supposed to be flying, er, private? I work for Tony Stark?” You creak out through your dry throat. You need water. 

“Mr. Stark?” She lowers her brow, “do you have proof of employment?” 

“Erm, yeah,” you unhook your keyring from your purse and shove it towards her. Your company ID is hooked onto the cluster of novelty attachments and keys. 

“I need to make a call,” she says as she examines your identification. 

Great. 

You bob nervously on the other side of the counter as the attendant speaks quietly into the speaker. Your phone buzzes and you jingle the keys as you find it. Stark has sent you a simple message; ‘Terminal 1, tarmac. Now.’ 

As you peek up over the counter, the woman hangs up. “You need to head up to Terminal 1. Find an employee there, in a white shirt like mine, and show them this.” She kits a few keys and her printer grinds with great effort. She hands you a boarding pass but most of it is empty. There’s only a code at the bottom. 

You thank her and head off. You scramble through security, walking through the scanner as your bag rides the conveyor through and x-ray. You retrieve your things on the other side and run off to reach Mr. Stark before he gets too impatient. He’s probably already agitated. 

You check your watch. It’s only 5:01am. You’re on time, right? 

You follow the signs to terminal one and find a large man standing by a ramp entrance. You approach him and show him the pass. He points you to another employee at the far end as he talks over his walkie talkie to them. You cross the tiled floor to meet the man and he beckons you towards another ramp. 

You’re led down to the tarmac and left to shuffle across it on your own. You’re only told to approach big jet waiting by a tower set of stairs. There’s an attendant at the bottom who greets your brightly and you show the pass again.  

“Mr. Stark is expecting you. May I take your bag?” She offers. 

“No thank, I can handle it,” you nod and lift the bag off its wheels. 

You climb a stair at a time and pass another attendant at the top. She directs you to leave your bag in the front carriage and you roll it behind the wall of webbing there. You turn to the ivory curtain and peek through tentatively. The movement of fabric draws Mr. Stark’s gaze from his phone. 

“Get in here,” he demands, “about time, George. I was about to fall asleep.” 

You push through and near him, “sir, did you need coffee?” 

“They got the long-legged ones for that,” he waves away your offer with his lecherous allusion to the pretty, tall attendants. “Sit.” 

You look at the chair on the other side of the table, across from him, and you hesitate. You lower yourself into the cushy seat and cross one leg over the other, your foot bouncing anxiously. You clutch your hands together and stare at Mr. Stark. 

“You look tired as hell,” he cackles. 

“Sir, it’s early.” 

“Ah, don’t let that ruin an all-inclusive. Tell me, Georgie, a girl like you, are you jet-setting every weekend? You got billionaires flying you to the Caribbean on the reg? Didn’t think you were the popular type.” 

“No, sir, I--” you try not to wince at his insinuation. You are all too aware that you’re on the bottom rung of the ladder he sits atop of. “Thank you for this. It’s very nice of you to bring me along.” 

“You are very welcome,” he says smugly, “move.” 

He points to the seat next to him. 

“Oh, uh,” you pull your hands apart and push yourself up with the armrests, “sorry.” 

He grunts, irritated, and signals with two fingers. As an attendant approaches, you sidle around the table and in front of Stark to get to the other seat. You feel a brush on your thigh but ignore it. It’s a tight squeeze.  

He asks for an espresso as you lower yourself down. He reaches over and pinches the fabric of your pants, just at the top of your knee. He sniffs. 

“This isn’t very Caribbean-friendly. You’re gonna sweat your tits off,” he derides. 

You try not to show your embarrassment, ignoring the urge to cover your chest at his comment. Out of habit, you put on your usual attire. A cardigan, a tidy blouse, and slacks. He huffs again and tugs at the sleeve of your cardigan. 

“Get rid of this,” he demands. 

“Oh, uh...” You sit forward as you undo the single button and you shrug out of the wool. He swipes it away and tosses it on the floor.  

The attendant returns with his espresso and gathers up your cardigan as you send her an apologetic look. Stark takes his coffee and tastes it before setting it on the table. He turns to you and clucks again. You let out a squeak as he reaches to pop the top button of your blouse, then the next. You flatten yourself to the seat helplessly. 

“Better, gotta let those things breathe,” he winks and sits back with a smirk. 

[jemilyswhor3]

Shared Bedroom

A/N: This has been in my drafts for too long

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Warning: smut, oral (r receiving), fingering, nipple playing, mommy kink, dom!wanda, sub!reader, use of pet names, light praise kink, reader in college, R (20-22), Wanda (25-27), reader is daughter of tony stark

Summary: You've just finished your training. You went to your room to study, only to be left doing something else, or rather, someone else doing you.

Word Count: 2.1K

Your training with Nat had just finished and it was already 8:27 PM. You have an early class tomorrow, so you head towards your shared bedroom with Wanda. You opened the door, and to your shock, she was nowhere to be found. She was always the early bird- sleeping in at 8:00 PM and waking up at 5:00 AM kinda gal, so it had you wondering where she could be at this state of time. You shrugged it off, took some shorts and a camisole out of your closet for later to change in, and headed to the bathroom. You took a nice warm shower and did your night routine. After your self-care, you opened the door, ready to head to your study table to do what's left of your thesis.

''Wanda!'' You exclaimed, surprisingly seeing the woman in her robe, sitting in bed while on her phone. ''Oh, hey, Y/N'' She looked up and back down at her phone again. ''Where were you?'' You asked while taking a seat at your table. ''I was helping Clint with carrying some stuff, why?'' She puts her phone down and focuses her attention on you. ''Nothing'' You pout, ''It's just that you usually sleep in early''. ''Yeah, I- I kinda couldn't sleep without your company'' She awkwardly stated. ''Oh,'' Your cheeks flushed. You draw your attention to your table while taking out your laptop from your bag. She stands up and walked toward you. ''What's that?'' She pointed out to your laptop screen.''My thesis. I'm practically done, just have to proofread it'' You replied, pointing at the screen. ''Long day with Nat?'' She circles your back. ''Yeah. Started training at 4:30 today'' You focus your attention on the screen, avoiding staring at her figure in the mirror's reflection. ''I remember my training days with her. Your father said it's 'mandatory' '' She mocked Tony. ''You must feel very tired'' She slowly puts both her hands on your shoulders and slowly started massaging them. ''Don't bother'' You place your left hand on top of her right, that's on your shoulder, removing it from you. ''I insist'' She flutters her eyes while she carefully places your hand back on your keyboard and hers on your shoulders. "Whatever you say" You start to open the document on your screen. She continues to gently massage your shoulders while you type in corrections. You feel her hand slowly nudging the sleeve off your right shoulder. She gently places your hair on your left side, which gave shivers down your spine. She starts to lean down to your neck and you feel her cold breath hit your skin. Barely maintaining focus on your screen, trying to process what's happening in the present, your eyes fluttering, and your body slightly trembling. She starts to kiss your neck, leaving soft gentle kisses all over it. You both still don't utter a word to each other. You gave in and fully closed your eyes for a couple of seconds, trying your best for her to not notice. She starts getting aggressive and starts sucking your neck, possibly leaving hickeys. You let out a soft low moan, which she liked, given the smile you felt on your neck.

''You like that, baby? Or am I being too aggressive?'' She converses. ''No, no. You're doing perfectly fine'' You whispered to her, unable to properly let out words,  being held back by her kisses. She snuck her hand under your shirt, unclipping your bra. Once she successfully did, she slowly removed your bra straps, letting her slender fingers roam around your arms, making you feel goosebumps all over your body. She fully removed your bra and tossed it someplace else. Your hands and posture are still in front of your desk, mouth wide open, whilst your eyes are closed.

She looks at your reflection in the mirror, laughing at the sight of you being submissive. Soft moans escaped from your mouth, giving her a signal that you want more. She continues to assault your neck with kisses, as she slips her right hand under your shirt since her left is the one that's holding your hair back. She cups one of your tits and started to slowly massage them, making them hard. You create friction between your legs, as you feel that you're getting wetter by the second. She takes her hand off your chest as she slowly tries to slip into your pants. As she was getting closer, you stop her hand and say, "No, not yet" While you gasp for air. Her eyes widen and stopped kissing your neck as she removed her hands from you and walked away.

You opened your eyes and looked at her. "Wh- what are you doing?" You rattled. "You said 'No'" She raised her brow. "I said not yet. I never told you to stop" You furrowed your eyebrows. She stands up and walked toward you. "So, do you want more?" She smirked. You desperately nodded as you gulped. "Stand up" She demanded. You delightfully obliged her demand and looked at her with desperation. She closes your laptop, moved it aside, grabbed you by the waist, lifted you to the table, and aggressively pressed your lips together. She pushed you against the wall, almost breaking the mirror. "Sorry" She apologized, breaking the kiss. "No need to say sorry, Mommy" You smirk at her and pushed your lips against hers. You feel her smirk while you make out. "Mommy. I like it" "I knew you would" Your hands start to travel all over her body, removing her robe, only to reveal her in a short black silk dress. "Like what you see?" "Did you lock the doors?" You asked. "I did. Why?" She pulled your lips together before you could respond. You backed away from the kiss, making her annoyed, only to be delighted at what you have to say, "Take me to bed" You gasp for air. She looked at you from head to toe and let out a wide smile. She lifts you up while still maintaining the kiss you both are sharing.

She slams you in the middle of the bed still maintaining the kiss while your legs was wrapped around her. You relax your legs while she stabilizes herself on top of you. She starts to move her hand down your shorts, gripping your thigh. She places her hand in the middle of your legs and teased your clothed cunt, moving her index finger up and down. ''Oh, please just fuck me already'' You let out while humping on her finger. ''Not just yet'' She whispers to your ear. She moves down to your neck, placing kisses and sucking it roughly. You gasp for air and moan in awe at her movements all over your body. ''Is now the time?'' You asked in desperation. ''No, not yet'' She said in between kisses, mocking you.

''Please, Mommy'' You begged. ''You want me that bad inside of you? You think calling me Mommy will get you that?'' She looked up at you and smirked. "Yes, please" You nod in anticipation. ''Why the rush, baby?'' She continues her movements on your neck. ''I've been waiting for this for so long'' You let out. She replied in a sinister tone, ''Really?'' She replaces her index with her thumb rubbing against your clit. ''Mhm,'' You eagerly nod. ''Are you sure? What about your fa-'' You place your hand over her mouth stopping her from continuing her sentence. "Don't worry about him. He'll never know" Wanda can see the desperation in your eyes. She smirks at you and gently makes her way down to your chest, stomach, your lower belly while placing soft kisses all around your body.

She looked up at you for confirmation if you wanna go through this before going down. You give her the fastest nod you could, and to that, she made her way down. While under the covers, she slowly removes your shorts, leaving her a sight of your wet panties. "So wet, just for me" You hear her whisper. You felt the vibration from her voice teasing you. "Please. Just please fuck me already" You pant.  "What's my name" She reveals her head from under the covers. "What?" You asked, not quite comprehending the words she said earlier. "You didn't say my name" She trails her fingers along your stomach, making little swirls here and there. "Mommy. Please fuck me, Mommy" You said while you bite your lip at the last word."That's what I want" She slides her finger inside your underwear, plunging in her index finger. You gasp at her sudden movement, while you held back your moans as she thrust her finger in and out. "Was that so hard to say?" She mockingly said. "Please, one more" You begged while gripping on the sheets and biting your lower lip. "See, honey. You keep forgetting my name" She pulls her finger out.

You, desperate for her touch, released your grip from the sheets and cupped her face. "Pl- Please, Mommy. I want you inside of me- all of you" You begged with puppy dog eyes. She smirks at your request and slowly slid her fingers down again. This time, she added two fingers making your eyes roll and back arch. "Mhm, you like that, huh? Does my baby like Mommy's fingers inside of her?" She softly asked. You give her an eager nod whilst your eyes are closed, unable to utter words. "Mhm," She hums as she uses her thumb to make circles on your clit.

All of it was so much- too much. You're so close to climaxing, you're already at the edge. "Mommy," You whimper. "What is it, baby?" She responded, concerned. "I- I'm gonna cum" You replied while you thrust your body into her fingers. "Oh, no you aren't. You can cum when I tell you so" She demanded. Your eyes closed, back-arching, toe-curling, hands gripping the sheets, and lip biting, unable to keep it in you. "Please- Please let me cum- Mommy" You added, almost forgetting to say her name. "Almost, sweetheart" She teased while she slowly goes down on you.

She took her fingers off and replaced them with her tongue, flicking it all across from your entrance to your clit. She slowly started the pace, and as time went by, she started going faster. You moan your heart out while your back arched. "Come on, baby. Cum on Mommy's tongue so she can taste your sweet juices" She eagerly demanded, somehow gasping for air. You gave in and came on her tongue as she tries to catch it all by lapping her tongue all over you. "Mhm," She moans. "You taste so fucking good, malyshka" Your cheeks turned bright red, giving up from trying to hide it, just enjoying the moment you two are sharing.

She moves up beside you and lays down. "Wow. That was-" "Amazing. You were so good for Mommy" She compliments you whilst she turns to look at you. "I was gonna say magical, but amazing is also what it is" You smile at her. You grab her by the chin and pushed your lips together, sharing a passionate kiss. "I don't wanna lose you," You said, breaking the kiss. She sits up properly and cups your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby. I'll always be right here. I'm never leaving your side" She rubs your cheeks. You smile at her as you take her hand off and start to kiss her knuckles, up to her arms, and eventually to her neck.

"Oh, you want to go for round two?" She chuckles as she makes her way under you again. You stop her hands before she could go down, and look her in the eyes. "No. You've already done so much for me. It's time I return the favor" You smirk at her. You went down under the covers and started to plant kisses along your way down.

And for the rest of the night, you two made passionate love to each other until sunrise. You regret nothing of it all. Although, you remembered your thesis that you need to pass today. You mentioned it to Wanda, and just like that, she used her magic to fix your thesis and messed with the weather so you don't have to go to class later in the morning. "You should've told me you could do that before" You laughed, amazed at what she had just done. "If I did, then maybe we wouldn't be kissing and cuddling right now" She pulls you in for a soft peck on the lips that turned into a full-on make-out. After your make-out session with Wanda, you both snuggled up and went to sleep like babies.

________________________________ A/N: Omg! This is my first time writing smut and I think that I didn't do that bad for the first time. I was not at all planning on writing a full smut story, but kinda like an angsty tease and leave the rest to your imagination, cause I feel uncomfortable when it comes to writing smut with fictional characters- or just in general, but I guess I got carried away lmao.

I also wanted to write something like this to widen my writing skills and, also cause I want to try to write in all genres to see which one I'm best at.

Please don't be harsh💀 This might feel rushed, cause I kinda did, cause I felt uncomfy.

I also uploaded this on ao3, @wandaswitch

[aurumacadicus]

This is more AA than MCU but I can't imagine AA Tony doing this lmao.

--

"Mr. Stark," Peter said, looking up from his phone.

"I'm not doing another TikTok," Tony answered immediately, not looking up from his tablet.

Peter scoffed, as if he wasn't going to suggest just that. "I was just going to ask if you ever wondered what Captain America sees when he looks at you."

Tony lifted his head, preemptively exhausted. "His name is Steve."

"It feels illegal to call him that," Peter said defensively. "Do you know how many times I've had to watch his school specials? 'So. You got detention.'"

Tony turned to look over the couch at him. "Would it make you feel better if I told you that it took him six takes because the first five, he followed it up with 'you fucked up' instead of 'you messed up?'"

"Yes," Peter answered. He began tapping frantically at his phone. Probably trying not to look suspicious as he asked JARVIS for access to the blooper reels. "You didn't answer my question."

Tony sighed, closing his eyes, then turned to look at him again. "I know what Steve sees when he looks at me. I'm out of the bathroom and ready for work by the time he gets back from his runs."

Peter blinked back at him, probably going for innocent and failing, because Tony knew him. "No, I mean how you look from his height. You're five-seven--"

"Five foot eight," Tony cut in. "And Steve's six feet tall. It's not like he's a giant and I'm an oompa loompa."

"Steve's six-foot-three," Peter told him gently.

"Steve is not two thirds of a foot taller than me," Tony sputtered, offended. He was a perfectly respectable five-eight and Steve was a frustrating six-foot brick. He was not three inches taller than that. Tony would not allow it.

"He is," Peter assured him, with that same gentle tone. "JARVIS?"

Tony whipped his head around to glare at one of JARVIS's cameras. There was a long pause, as if he was considering his answer. Finally, though, he replied, "From current measurements, Mr. Parker seems correct in his assertions."

"Not if I take him out at the knees," Tony hissed.

Peter stared at him for a very long time, looking unsure of whether he wanted to continue the conversation. Finally, though, he rallied. "I think we should see what Steve sees."

"My beautiful face," Tony answered sternly, looking back down at his tablet. He poked at some measurements for the engine he was designing for a moment, then turned to scowl at him. "And how do you suggest we do that?"

Peter finally hopped off his stool and walked over to the nearest wall, crawling up so he could fix his phone to it at the proper height with some webbing. He tapped at the camera for a moment, then hopped back down onto the ground and waved up at it. "Ta-da! This should be about the height of Steve's eyes."

Reluctantly, Tony set his tablet aside and got up off the couch. He already didn't like what he was seeing in the camera from a distance.

"Why is there a camera on the wall?" Natasha asked, stepping out of the elevator. She began moving toward the kitchen, circling the camera's main view.

"We're checking to see what we look like to Steve," Peter offered.

Tony grimaced as he looked up into the camera. "Oh my god. Natasha, come here."

"No," Natasha answered. "I'm hungry."

"I look like I should be," Tony began, covering his mouth in horror as he moved from side to side. "Oh my god." He turned back to the camera and lifted his hands up like he would to wrap them around the back of Steve's neck. "I look like I should be saying 'up,'" he finished tearfully.

Natasha appeared beside him a second later, looking horrified in the camera's reflection. "This is what he sees when he looks at me?"

"You're even smaller than I am, what the fu--" Tony covered his mouth again, dropping his gaze down to his feet so he couldn't see the video anymore. He tipped his head up to look through his lashes, unable to help wondering what that looked like to Steve, and let out a howl of dismay. No wonder Steve always teased him about pouting when he was in a sulk or mad.

Natasha took a step closer and looked like she instantly regretted it. She pulled a knife. It didn't look threatening, even to her, and she knew she'd follow through on a stab. "Oh," she said, and then her hands flew to her head, turning away from the camera. "Oh my god Tony."

"This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," Tony whispered, reaching up to grab the phone down.

"Thor's taller," Natasha choked out.

Tony froze, hand halfway toward the phone, then let out a scream and crumpled to the ground as if he'd been shot.

Peter grabbed his phone while Tony and Natasha were recovering and bolted for the elevator. He didn't want them blaming him for this revelation. He passed Steve, Thor, and Clint as he was rushing out of the lobby and managed a short but sincere, "I'm sorry for what's about to happen to you."

"What?" Steve called after him, aghast, but Peter didn't turn.

[thefallennightmare]

Envy-one shot

Pairings: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1119

Warnings: angst, swearing, drug/drinking references, fluff, and a bit of implied smut.

Summary: There's a new bartender at Bucky's club which almost spells disaster for reader and Bucky's relationship.

Authors Note: Someone requested this like over a month ago and I'm finally finding a few minutes to write something up, so whoever requested it I hope you like it! Sorry for yet again making Natasha the bad guy.

The music was loud, echoing off of the brick walls of the club as I maneuvered my tiny frame through the sea of bodies that were pressed against one another. It was a typical Saturday night, everyone in Brooklyn had shown up for either drinking their sorrows away or hoping to get a glimpse of him knowing that he would be the answer to whatever problems they needed help with. I knew that it was a long shot because he rarely was seen out on the main floor of his club. He strictly stayed in the back, watching everything from afar. 

“Hey, Y.N. Where’s Barnes?” 

I came to a halt while crossing my arms over my chest and raised a brow at the man that sat in the usual stool. 

“Tony Stark. I thought you said that your standards were too high for Buchanans?” I reminded him. 

Tony shrugged while taking a large swig of his beer. “Your boyfriend has a great place, what can I say?” 

“Fiancé,” I corrected him. 

The large diamond from my ring shined bright underneath the lights that were being projected from the DJ booth. 

“So,” Tony set the beer on the bar behind him. “Can I get a few minutes to sit with him? I’ve got a great business idea that would be perfect for his mob group. 

I shook my head. “Bucky doesn’t like walk-ins. Call Sam to make an appointment.” 

Ignoring his protest, I walked to the other end of the bar and gave a small smile to the new bartender who looked a bit flustered. I knew that anyone's first night at a new job would be nerve wrecking especially here at Buchanan’s. It was known as THE hot spot in Brooklyn, everyone wanted to come here but spent the majority of the night waiting in line, hoping it would be their moment. There was a very strict guest list here and Bucky would never deter from it.

“Hey, can I get Mr. Barnes drink please?” I gave her another smile. 

The bartender, Natasha, raised a brow at me while halting making the current drink. 

“I didn’t receive Bucky’s order,” she said with a hint of attitude. 

I bit the inside of my cheek to do my best to keep my own attitude at bay. 

“Mr. Barnes,” I corrected her. 

There were only a select few that could call him Bucky; me and Steve. 

Natasha rolled her eyes before popping open a beer bottle and sliding it over to me. 

“$7,” she said flatly as I was about to walk away. 

I scoffed. “Put it on his tab.” 

“I was told that whoever picks up Mr. Barnes drink needs to pay,” Natahsa stressed out his name. 

“This isn’t worth it,” I mumbled to myself and went to walk away yet again. 

It was when I felt her hand on my wrist that I stared at it with pure anger flashing in my eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I seethed and yanked my hand away. 

Nataha’s eyes sliced into me. “Who do you think you are that you can walk away without paying?” 

I held up my left hand, the large diamond glimmering in her eyes. “I’ll let this one-time slide but if you question who I am or touch me again, I’ll make sure you never work anywhere in Brooklyn again.” 

There was a small group of people staring at us, wondering if a fight was about to break out, but there were a certain set of eyes that I felt burning at the back of my head that made my entire body tingle. 

I peeked over my shoulder and saw Bucky leaning into our booth, the sight of him being seen out for the first time in a while. No doubt he received word about my and Natasha’s exchange of words. And with the way his eyes dropped away from me, a deep breath falling from his lips I knew that he was disappointed. 

With a snap decision to drop this conversation, I turned my back to Natasha and made my way towards Bucky. 

“Don’t even say it,” I warned while sitting next to him. 

Bucky sighed. “How many bartenders are we going to have to rehire because of you?” 

I snorted a laugh. “Maybe if they learned their place then I wouldn’t have to show it to them.” 

The fast-paced beats of the music pounded hard against my chest as I leaned deeper into the cloth booth, the heat radiating off of him. With his arm wrapped around me, I stared up at the soft features of his face, the freshly buzzed haircut of his suiting him just right. 

I pressed my lips onto his, Bucky’s tongue not wasting any time in exploring every crevice of my mouth. My moan was muffled by him as his fingers slid underneath my skirt and ghosted over the slit between my legs. 

“So wet for me already, doll,” Bucky groaned while burying his face into the crook of my neck. 

Our actions went unbothered by anyone in the club, they all were too busy with drinking or snorting whatever drug had been smuggled inside.

“Excuse me, Bucky?” 

Rage boiled when I heard her scratchy voice and Bucky reluctantly pulled away, eyes landing on Natasha who was leaning on the table in front of us. Her breasts were exposed by her low-cut shirt. 

“It’s Mr. Barnes.” 

I chuckled silently at him correcting her. 

She mocked sorrow by nodding. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. But there’s someone at the bar asking for you.”  

We noticed Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers leaning up against the bar which only meant one thing; Bucky was needed somewhere pronto. 

“I could walk you over there if you’d like,” Natasha said. “I know how crazy it can get in here when people see you.” 

Bucky ignored her and placed a deep, loving kiss upon my lips. “Don’t wait up for me, Y/N.” 

I scratched at the back of his neck, his sweet spot, and saw his eyes flutter shut at my touch. 

“We both know that I always do,” I said. 

“Mr. Barnes?” Natasha tried again while pushing her breast together. “Would you like me to walk you over there?” 

The low rumble of annoyance in his chest was only heard by me as Bucky stood from our booth. “Get back to the bar, Romanoff and don’t leave unless I say it’s alright.” 

With her tail tucked between her legs, she scurried back to the bar. 

Bucky went to walk away but I linked my fingers with his vibranium ones. “Be careful.” 

With a few peppered kisses over my palm, he nodded. “Always, doll.”

[agere-fics]

Doctor Papa

dni: k!nk, anti-agere, agepl4y, or ddlg-esque blogs 🍄 this blog is a safe space for age regressors and age dreamers 🍄

pairing: caregiver!papa!bruce banner x regressor!little!reader

characters: uncle thor, bruce banner, reader, mentions of: steve, bucky, sam, and tony stark.

summary: you have to get MRIs done but you're nervous. thank goodness, papa knows how to cheer you up.

word count: 1,751

content warnings: MRIs, hospital gown, reader is written like they're a child's height, no mention of a particular chronic illness, please tell me if i'm missing anything

author's note: tadaa!! all done! this is the most i've written for a one shot! very proud of myself. also, this is inspired by me having to get MRIs done recently ajfhs

♡

Sometimes stuff we've done lots of times can still seem scary; which is annoying because who wants to feel anxious about the same exact thing over and over again?

You have to get these scans done by tomorrow. With every heart of your being, you wished that wasn't true but your previous scans were too old.

UGH!

Luckily, your papa had a trick up his sleeve.

He told you to stay here, in this gigantic, empty, white walled room. It was utterly boring, there were no paintings or statues or anything. Not even toys! Well, okay, you had your Mr. Rainy Day Bear but still... At least there were floor to ceiling windows- OH, and a skylight, too. Those were always nice.

While you waited for Bruce to come back, you watched what went on outside. There was Tony using his latest invention to attempt to lift Uncle Thor’s hammer. Tony still had no idea that it couldn't possibly work! How silly of him.

Bucky, Sam, and Steve stood in a far apart triangle. They were tossing around the Captain America shield like a Frisbee, guffawing, and yelling things that were joyously incomprehensible. It looked like lots of fun. Definitely more fun than MRIs. Maybe, they would let you join in later.

The double doors of the empty room swung open and papa’s humongous green form entered.

“Okayyy, love bug, I've grabbed all the cardboard pieces from recycling that weren't gross.” He grimaced thinking about the black, moldy gunk that spoiled some previously useful parts. He shrunk back down to Bruce Banner size after dumping the cardboard into a large pile. “We should have enough for our little art project.”

“Art project?” You looked at him expectantly. Your eyes were lit up with stars of joy this time, instead of meteor shower anxiety.

The idea was to make a cardboard MRI machine. Having an art project to focus on would comfort and reassure you about the process you would go through tomorrow. If he could make it fun, your anxiety wouldn't be so bad.

“I’ve seen the machine before, papa, I can make the bestest one yet!” You hopped on your toes, giddy with tight, flapping fists.

“I grabbed your sticker books and some paint, too-”

“OH YAY, THANK YOU PAPA, THIS IS SO EXCITING!!”

Mission accomplished. Anxiety gone, replaced with magical cure Art Project™. Bruce smirked to himself.

You laid down on a tall, square cardboard piece. Bruce traced your form with a sharpie as you giggled. Once you had the correct length, you both began cutting a rectangular piece and put that piece on a metal cart with wheels.

Then, you cut out half circle pieces and hot glued them all together until it made one large 4D sphere with a hole in the middle like a donut.

At one point, the glue burned you but Papa Bruce fixed it right up and stopped the booboo pain with a cure-all kiss.

Your cardboard MRI machine may look done to outsiders but it wasn't even close. It was missing the most important part of all: the stickers! There were heart stickers, stickers with dolphins, rainbow stickers, puppy stickers, stickers that had Mr. Hulk and Papa on them, too! There were even stickers of Stevey, Bucky, Iron Man, and Uncle Thor! Papa said for your birthday he'd make stickers with you on them, too.

You also painted squiggles, polka dots, lines, circles, triangles, kitty cats, and zig zags. All of them in your most favoritest color.

“There!” You stood proudly, hands on your hips. “Now, it's very, very pretty, papa.”

Papa gave you a minute and then asked, “Are you ready to practice?”

You blinked and sighed. Defeat warping your mood. “Yeah...”

Papa spun away, put a doctor's coat on, and then turned back, holding a clipboard. “Alright, are you the caregiver for Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

“Yeah, papa.” You lightened up a little bit.

“Papa? No, I'm Doctor Doctor. Who's papa?”

“You're papaaa!” You pointed at him.

“Okay, okay I'm Doctor Papa.” He repeated, “Are you the caregiver of Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

You tilted your chin up and did a faux British accent. “Why, yes, sir. He's feeling very, very bad and needs a scan.”

“Ah, yes, I see that on his chart, Caregiver.” He flipped through the scribbled pages on the clipboard. “Let's have. Mr. Bear lay down on the table with his head on the pillow.” Bruce gestured with his hand.

You laid your stuffie down on the pretend bed, placing Mr. Bear’s head gently on the pillow. You patted his hand for good measure.

Doctor Papa put ear plugs into the bear's ears and placed cushy pink headphones on him. The headphones had cat ears on them. Papa raised his voice a little, “Mr. Rainy Day Bear, what kind of music do you like to listen to?”

“Doctor Papa, Mr. Bear is nonverbal.” you said matter of factly. You raised your pointer finger to the sky. “I’ll answer for him. He likes The Wiggles, Papa- I mean Doctor Papa.”

“Alrighty then, The Wiggles album coming right up.” Bruce pulled out his phone, scrolling until he found the right music. “Wiggles rave?”

You nodded, then kissed the tippity top of Rainy Day’s head. “You'll be okay, Mr. Bear.”

Bruce began to push the cardboard bed into the donut sphere. You took a big, big deep breath in.

“BRRRR BEEEP AGHHHH RRRRR DNNNN-”

That breath was immediately released back into the atmosphere. “PAPAAA!” You clutched your chest, laughing so hard your legs felt weak.

Doctor Papa continued, “DRRRRR EEEEEE EHHHHHH MRRRRRR!”

You were rolling on the floor, tears leaving your eyes. How silly of your papa!

“BRRRRRrrrrrr….” Papa rolled the cardboard bed out of the donut. “How are you feeling Mr. Bear?”

“Papa, he can't hear you!”

Bruce laughed. “Oh, yeah, right.” He removed the headphones and then the earplugs. “How is the fantastic Mr. Bear?”

You lifted Mr. Bear’s paws and had him sign to Bruce, ‘I am okay.’

“Perfect! Let's take a look at your scans here…” Papa turned around and scribbled quickly on the paper. When he faced you again, he showed you the scan. It was a poorly constructed scribble of Mr. Rainy Day Bear with a big, biiiiiiiig, heart right in the middle. “I knew it, Lots-Of-Love-itis.”

You unburied the British accent. “Quite good, sir. Well done, Mr. Bear.” You placed a hulk sticker on his paw and hugged him tightly.

Papa kneeled down and asked, “Do you want to practice with you this time?”

You gave it a thought, looking this way and that. “Hmmm, will you make the funny noises again?”

“BEEEEP BRRR-”

“Not right now, Papa!” You shouted with a smile.

“Oh, during the practice?” He waited for you to finish rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay…” You breathed in, out, in, and out slowly. “Let's practice, Doctor Papa.”

♡

“Big day, lille venn.” Uncle Thor said as he helped tie the back of your hospital gown. He double knotted the strings behind your neck and then the ones by your hip. “There you are. All set.”

You frowned at that, looking at Thor with big, watery eyes. “Not all set.”

“It'll be okay.” His hands (placed on your shoulders) turned you to face him. “Remember your breathing?”

“Mhm.”

“Let's do it together.” He raised his left hand as you did the same. “Climb Yggdrasil, breathe in.”

You traced up your pointer finger.

“Let's sit at the very top, hold your breath.”

You paused at the tip of your finger.

“Slide down the Yggdrasil branches, breathe out.”

You traced down your pointer finger.

Uncle Thor had you repeat that four more times, until the tears dried and the anxiety flowed further away.

“Very good, great job. Let's go see Papa.” He held your hand as he walked you towards the scary room. Worse than the boring room from yesterday.

You turned the corner and there was Papa at the computer. “Hey there! The computer’s prepped and waiting for you, little one.”

You looked at Papa, then Uncle Thor, and then Papa again. “Okay… I'm ready.”

Papa led you to the metal bed. It was rectangular and thin. A sheet was laid out on it so you wouldn't get super cold. There was a thick pillow on the end that had your favorite kitty cat pillowcase on it, which made the corners of your lips turn upwards.

Papa pressed an arrow down bottom next to the donut sphere that brought the bed down to your level. He held your hand as you hopped on and then helped position you onto the center. He guided you through a big, deep breath so that your body was as comfortable on the table as can be instead of tense.

Next came pink headphones with cutesy kitty ears on them and plain boring ear plugs so that your hearing wasn't hurt from the loud noises. Papa already set up your favorite kind of music so when the headphones were placed on you, it was already playing. Bruce furrowed his brow in question, moving his thumb up and down. You replied with a thumbs up. You were ready.

Bruce handed you a panic button to hold just in case and laid a blanket over you to keep you warm. Papa kissed the top of your head and left the room.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

BBRRRRRRR

‘It's okay. I'm okay.’

BEEEEEEPPP

‘Woohoo, I'm doing awesome!’

REEEEHHHHHH

‘This is boring, it's got to have been a bajillion minutes by now.’

After ten years (minutes), the machine stopped and Papa walked back into the room. He gave you a high five and bunches of praises that you only heard some of because of all the ear protectors. But you could tell by his facial expressions that he was so very proud of you.

He pressed the arrow down button again and the bed began moving to an easier height. You removed the headphones and earplugs yourself, you felt like such a big kid (in the best way)!

You stretched this way and that while making funny noises which made you abrupt into hearty giggles.

Bruce held your hand as you jumped down. Next thing you knew, he was hugging you tightly, picking you up, and spinning you around and around!

“I'm so very, very proud of you, bumble bee!”

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

♡

[meidui]

stevetony sex pollen fic recs

for @fluffystevefest day 5: aphrodisiac 💕

Aphrodisiac by @kandisheek

Steve gets hit with some sort of sex pollen. It must be the universe's idea of a joke to let Captain America die from horniness and make Tony his only chance at survival.

Simple Biology by @stark---contrast

“God, I'm sweating bullets in this thing,” Tony said, already unzipping his undersuit. “It’s not just me, right? It feels like a sauna in here.” And Steve's resolve crumbled by each inch of sweat-slick skin that was revealed.

Or, Tony gets hit by sex pollen. Fortunately, Steve is there to help him out.

the thorn in his side by @fohatic (or @moon-language-0 until justice is served)

It had been there from the beginning. There was no end to it, that mutual wanting between them—forever unresolved—that had grown so terribly soft and unbearably romantic with age...

But there was an unspoken rule between them, as well: an understanding that they could never act on it.

That is, until an alien parasite's brood nest gets violently dislodged from its Chitauri Leviathan host during the Battle of New York, dispersing its contents directly over two time-jumping tourists who are very much in the wrong place and the wrong timeline.

All the Love You Hold and Hide by Mireille

On a mission, Steve triggers a booby trap that turns out to be a skeevy sex curse, of the "fuck or die" variety.

Tony volunteers as tribute.

Exposed by @festiveferret @sirsapling

Of all the people Steve could be stuck with while this agonizing drug surged through him, of course, it had to be Tony Stark.

I Want to Hurt You by @festiveferret

How could Steve ever look Tony in the eye again? He loved Tony, so desperately, but he didn't know how to come back from this. He didn't know how many apologies would be enough to make up for what he'd done.

He could still feel Tony's soft skin giving to dark bruises under his fingers.

Side Effects by @elimymoons

"So what I'd like to propose," Tony continued on, "is for you to let me help you out a little, yeah? We'll work off some of this energy, some of this adrenaline, and you don't have to worry about hurting yourself anymore, okay?"

Steve's in a bit of trouble. Tony wants to help him out. Sexily.

Emergency Contact by @valdomarx

Steve has been exposed to sex pollen, and for some reason Tony is the person who's been called in to assist him.

Tony knows that he can't take advantage of Steve in this desperate state, but it's awfully hard to remember that when Steve is rubbing up against him and describing all of his deepest fantasies in excruciating detail.

Double Blind by @loftyperch

Steve signs up for a drug trial. Naughty side effects ensue.

Long Distance Relationship by @cookinguptales

So what do you do when your boyfriend gets sex pollened and you're thousands of miles away? The correct answer here is Extremis sex. Obviously.

Messes We Make by @navaan

Commander Rogers locks himself in his office with a sex-pollend Tony, he's not exactly back on speaking terms with. Things get out of hand.

calling (screaming) your name by orphan_account

in which the whole team gets vapored during battle and it affects everyone differently. Tony finds out, first-hand, how it affects Steve.

Dishonest John's Special Rates by @meh-guh

Steve runs afoul of sex pollen and Tony reaps the benefit

honey from your hive by @meidui

"Steve, stop that," Tony says, sounding strangled as his grip tightens and Steve stops, letting Tony grab his face and tilt him up. "You're kind of scaring the crap out of me. What is it? What's going on with you?"

"We blew up the lab," Steve manages, and something dawns on Tony's face. "Everyone had a reaction 'cept me. Think 'm having it now."

[widowsistersandfriends]

Sore Loser

Request: Could you write a story where the reader challenges wanda to a ping pong game best of 3. The two agree that the lower should be tickled as a punishment. Each person wins one game but wanda wins the third. Rather than accept their fate, the reader runs around the compound with wanda (who is a bit slower) chasing after her. The reader escapes. Wanda recruits Yelena and Kate to go help chase the reader in like a hide and go seek type of way. Eventually the reader is caught wanda sits on the readers hips while the other two sit at either side of the readers head. They focus purely on upperbody tickling with an immense focus on the ribs and sides. Eventually they stop the tickling, the reader gets up and challenges Kate to a round of 5 in pingpong... (ler!wanda, ler! yelena, ler!kate x lee!reader)

Note: Thank you so much for this request! I had so much fun writing it and it was a very creative idea! Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1810

-----------------------------------------------------------

Today there were no missions and you all had a day off at the compound. Given that Tony Stark was a rich man, there were rooms for any activity that you could think of. Today, you decided to challenge Wanda at a game of ping pong. You two had been in a long series of games, keeping track of who won what. You were both competitive and refused to lose without a fight.

“Ready to lose again?” Wanda asked, as you picked up  your paddle. 

“If I recall correctly, I beat you in basketball yesterday, so I’m actually ready to win again,” you corrected her cheekily.

“Wow, someone’s cocky,” Wanda tsked, sending some magic over to tickle your side.

“Ah! Wahahanda! That’s cheheheating!” You giggled, squirming around and trying your best not to fall.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do that during the game,” Wanda smirked.

“Fine, let’s make a deal. We’ll play best of 3, all games to 11 points, and whoever loses gets tickled,” you said confidently.

“Deal,” Wanda said, sticking her hand out to shake on it.

Each one of you had won one game already, and it was down to the third game. The score was currently 10-9, and it was match point for you.

Wanda served the ball, and you returned it with ease, feeling a grin form on your face. Wanda turned her body, fooling you and thinking she would hit it in the direction she was facing. However, with a quick flick of her wrist, she shot the ball across her body, catching you off guard. 

“Tie game!” Wanda cheered, having a trick up her sleeve.

You gritted your teeth, feeling the pressure now. Before the game, you both agreed that it was first to 11, and you would not go into a deuce to save time.

“Nervous?” Wanda asked, grinning evilly at you.

You shook your head, feeling your stomach turn with excitement and nervousness. 

Wanda was one to take a risk to win, so she pulled out a trick serve to try and seal the game. She let the ball bounce on the table, before hitting underneath it, sending it super high in the air. The key was to not hit it too far.

You eyed the ball carefully, unsure if it was gonna go out or not. It was super close, and you swung your paddle as the ball came down. However, the ball just nicked the edge of the table before falling off, causing you to whiff and hit nothing but air.

“HA! I WIN!” Wanda cheered. However, you knew you were gonna get wrecked and couldn’t accept the fact that you lost, so you took off running in the compound. Where you were going, you didn’t know. But you knew that you would not give her the reward she had earned.

Wanda knew she could easily fly and catch you, but she decided to build up the suspense by participating in the chase. You had stellar speed, so you were able to escape her. 

The witch ran into Kate and Yelena playing Go-Fish on the couch.

“What happened to you?” Yelena questioned, as the witch was clearly out of breath.

“I beat Y/N in ping pong, and we agreed that the loser gets tickled. However, she lost and was being a brat and ran off. Can you guys help me catch her?” Wanda asked the two girls.

They smirked at each other, both accepting the opportunity to chase and tickle you.

The three women took off, looking in places they thought you were hiding. You were currently in Natasha’s closet with the lights off. You heard Yelena enter the room, calling out your name.

“Oh Y/N! Come out, come out wherever you are!” Yelena said, adding a teasing tone to her voice. 

You peeked through the small crack of the door, watching as Yelena ventured further into the room. As soon as she got in enough, you threw the door open and bolted out of the room.

“Come back here Y/N!” Yelena shouted, while also yelling out to Wanda and Kate that she had found you.

You sprinted at full speed, ducking into a bathroom and closing the door.

You giggled with glee, knowing that you had an advantage speed wise. You positioned yourself to where you would be behind the door when it opened, meaning they wouldn’t see you. Or so you hoped.

Kate opened the door to the bathroom and turned the lights on. If it were somebody else, you probably would have been caught. However, Kate was a bit clumsy and not thorough in her search, as she took a quick peek inside and left. 

You sighed in relief, but were starting to get a bit thirsty from all the running. You knew it was risky, but you decided to venture to the kitchen to get a drink.

You tiptoed slowly out of the bathroom, taking quiet steps through the compound. You found it weird that you hadn’t seen Wanda in a while, given that she was the one who was mainly trying to find you.

You finally made it to the kitchen, as you did a quiet fist pump. However, you were startled and jumped when you heard a voice from above.

“I knew I’d find you eventually,” Wanda said, smirking down at you. Wanda was flying above, as she used her flying abilities to scout around the compound where you were.

You quickly downed a cup of water and tried to take off. However, this time, Wanda was not letting you escape. She flew down and grabbed you, as you kicked and shouted for her to put you down.

“Kate! Yelena! I found her! Meet me in Y/N’s room!” Wanda called out, as she flew with you in her arms to your bedroom.

“Put me down! You insisted, squirming in her grasp.

“You think you can mess with me?” Wanda asked, gently tossing you on the bed.

“Well clearly I did,” you said with an eye roll.

Just then, Kate and Yelena entered the room, to your surprise.

“What are they doing here?” You asked Wanda.

“They’re here to help me tickle a brat to tears,” Wanda explained with a grin. 

“W-What?” You stuttered.

“You heard me,” Wanda said.

“But that’s not fair! It’ll be 3 vs 1!” You cried, now sitting up quickly to bolt. However, Wanda tackled you and sat on your hips to prevent you from going anywhere.

“Better luck next time. Maybe you should work on your ping pong skills and you won’t be in this predicament,” Wanda teased.

“Girls, why don’t you go ahead and hold Y/N’s arms above her head?” Wanda asked, as you quickly wrapped your arms around your torso.

Yelena and Kate tried to grab your arms away from your torso, but you were stubborn and used all your strength to not allow it.

Wanda began to scratch at your sides, making you burst into giggles, weakening you by the second.

“Wahanada stahahap!” You giggled, as your strength was depleting.

Eventually, Kate and Yelena tickled your neck, which made you even weaker. They grabbed your arms and pinned them above your head, leaving your entire upper body open.

“This is your punishment for losing…and for running from me,” Wanda said, as she reached down and began to claw at your ribs, making you gasp in ticklish surprise.

“WAHAHAIT PLEHEHEASE!” You laughed, arching your back as much as you could. 

“What's wrong Y/N, does that tickle?” Wanda cooed, as she dug in between your ribs.

You screamed with laughter, begging for her to stop.

“Stop? We’re just getting started,” Wanda teased, as she signaled to the girls to join in.

Kate and Yelena both used one hand to hold your arms and the other to now wiggle into your armpits, causing you to squeal.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES,” you shrieked, shutting your eyes tightly in despair. 

Wanda moved her hands back down to your sides, making you snort and pull desperately at your arms. You tried to buck against her, but this only made her bend down and blow a raspberry on your tummy.

“OHOHO MY GOHOHOD STAHAHAP IHITS SOHOHO BAHAHAD,” you laughed and shouted.

Kate and Yelena stopped tickling your armpits, as Wanda now raked her nails over your soft stomach.

You sucked in your stomach, trying to avoid the tickles and hold in your laugh. Wanda caught on to this, and stuck her finger in your belly button to make you bark out with laughter.

“Are you gonna stop being a sore loser?” Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Are you?” You responded back, immediately regretting it when Wanda went full force, spidering and squeezing up and down your sides, and scratching her sharp nails over your delicate exposed ribs.

“OHOHOKAHAHAY WAHAHANDA STAHAHAHAP ENOHOUGH IHIHI CAHAHANT,” you pleaded, as Wanda stopped to give you a break to see if you were being serious.

“Say you lost and this will all be over,” Wanda warned you.

You laid there for a bit catching your breath. Kate and Yelena began to lightly drag their nails over your arms, stopping just before the armpit to make you freak out in anticipation. Over and over they did this, as you struggled against them.

Wanda felt you squirm and buck slightly under her, but she knew it wasn’t from the tickling. You were trying to escape. 

Wanda moved down slightly before giving you a look of warning.

“Are you gonna say it?” She asked.

You shook your head firmly, bracing yourself for the next attack.

“Your funeral,” Wanda sighed, as she began to squeeze and dig into your hips. Kate and Yelena also resumed their armpit tickle attack, which sent you over the edge.

You screamed and gasped for them to stop, eventually breaking out of their grip and tapping out on the bed as Wanda continued her hip tickle assault.

Wanda ceased her tickling, as you muttered out that you lost.

“What was that?” Wanda asked.

“Yeah we couldn’t hear you,” Kate and Yelena both chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, before jumping as Yelena poked your ribs.

“Okay stop!! I said I lost!” You said desperately, now curling up to protect all of your ticklish spots.

“Atta girl,” Wanda said, ruffling your hair as you swatted at her in annoyance. 

“I may not be able to beat you at ping pong, but I can definitely beat Kate,” you huffed in annoyance.

“Hey! Why am I getting dragged into this!” Kate exclaimed. 

“Sounds like Y/N is challenging you,” Yelena said.

“Loser gets tickled?” You suggested again, knowing that Kate had no ping pong experience.

“I didn’t agree to that!” Kate shouted, now getting worried.

“Too late!” You said, taking off for the ping pong table for a best of 5 match.

[rainbowsuitcase]

I love all the fics about Steve dealing with the misconceptions people have about him, but I don't think I've read one yet focused on the fact that Steve wouldn't really know.

Like, if everyone assumes this is just who he is, they wouldn't tell him. Why would they explain his own personality to him?

Sure, he could piece together the public imagine of Captain America, from the comics and the propaganda and everything, but maybe he wouldn't really connect that to himself. Because sure, Steve Rogers is Captain America, but Captain America is not Steve Rogers.

Captain America didn't exist before 1943 and Steve Rogers had already gone through a lot by that time.

Captain America was not the guy who hated hospitals because he spent too much time in them. He was not the guy who got into fights he could never win. He was not the immigrant raised by a single mother. He was not even a person, not really.

For Steve and all of the friends he had, that distinction was very clear, and so maybe he wouldn't realize how non-existent it is for everyone now.

Not until he does something so "out of character" that someone finally feels the need to point it out to him.

It's probably over something dumb. Like one early morning in the tower when Steve thinks he's finally figured out Tony's stupidly complicated coffee machine and confidently takes a sip, only to realize that Oh no, this tastes more like poison than coffee.

He swear up a storm spitting it out and pouring it into the sink and Tony looks at him like he grew a second head. "Oh my god, my coffee machine just broke Captain America."

"Captain America is unbreakable. But Steve Rogers might break this fucking thing."

"How do you even know half these words?"

And that's how Steve Rogers finds out what everyone - and by everyone we mean the whole fucking world - thinks about him. And that's how Tony Stark unleashes hell on America, because Steve sets out on a path to correct these misconceptions.

It's really only 12% his fault.