#iron man x yn

[little-angel-oc]

THIS IS THE SWEETEST THING EVER 😭🥹🥰🤍

I can't believe that I didn't see this before

Also, I want Moon noooow! 😭

A night to never forget

PAIRING || Boyfriend!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || 5.3K

SUMMARY || Tony has been busier than ever with his combined duties as Iron Man and the CEO of Stark Industries, and it’s starting to take it’s toll on him. Because of this, you have decided that he will be the one to be spoiled for an entire weekend, starting with a movie night with the two of you and your little kitten, Moon.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Sugar Daddy AU. Everyone lives AU. Semi-canon compliant. Established relationship. CEO!Tony Stark. Sugar Daddy!Tony Stark. Sugar Baby!Reader.

WARNINGS || Large age gap. Talk about loss of a parent. Talk about pregnancy and conceiving. Explicit sexual content.

SMUT || Teasing. Discipline. Begging. Oral (M receiving). Deepthroating. Gagging. Cum swallowing. Praise. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). Cream pie. Cockwarming.

A/N || This story is written as a little treat to celebrate my 26th birthday today! I couldn't let my birthday go by without writing a story for one of my favorite AU's, so I hope you will all enjoy this. I want to give all my love and thanks to @ccbsrmsf1 because this story wouldn't have existed without your support! I love you, bestie, and thank you for making my life so special! 🩷

EVENTS Masterlist || @kinky-things-happen || Deepthroating Masterlist || @multifandom-flash 1st Birthday Celebration || You Said You Couldn't Dance

GIF: @ccbsrmsf1 || All other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark Masterlist || AU Masterlist

For the last few weeks, Tony has been busier than ever. Between his work as CEO of Stark Industries and his duties as Iron Man, he's been away a lot, and it's taking its toll on him. Because of this, you have discussed with Pepper about having him go home early on Friday, giving the two of you a long, relaxing weekend together.

You have been planning several things for the past few days, starting with a much-deserved movie night. While you usually have movie nights with all the other Avengers, you now opt to have one at home with Tony and your black kitten, Moon, for ultimate relaxation. The excitement in your body is building with every passing second.

Now, it's only a matter of getting the last few things ready, starting with baking Tony's favorite cookies while you're waiting for a package to arrive because you have ordered a matching set of pajamas that still has to get here, and then everything is all set.

As you gather all the ingredients to make the cookies, you're being watched by your now four-month-old black kitten, Moon, as he's seated on the kitchen counter in the little bed you put there. He prefers to be close to you both wherever you are, and this way, you can also keep a close eye on him while you're there.

"Aren't you the cutest little thing today, Moon?" you say as you look at him in his usual rolled-up sleeping position, though his bright blue eyes are looking at you with a curious look as he meows at you. A smile forms on your face as you scratch him behind his ears, and he purrs in enjoyment.

"Alright, let's make some cookies before Daddy's home!" you tell Moon before telling JARVIS to play some of your favorite music, which fills the penthouse as you're practically floating through the kitchen, dancing and singing along to the music as you keep working.

It doesn't take long for you to be ready to put the cookies in the oven. When you straighten back up, you're scared by a sudden presence in the kitchen with you that definitely wasn't there earlier. You're now wondering how long they have been standing there and looking at you while holding Moon, the package you were expecting tucked under his arm.

"Tony? What are you doing home already?" you ask as you walk towards your boyfriend, who's scratching Moon while smiling at you. Tiredness is visible on his face, and you feel a bit of a lump forming in your throat at the sight, your brows knitting together in worry.

"Well, it turns out someone didn't put the right address on the package they ordered, so it was sent straight to my office instead of here," Tony tells you with a mischievous smirk and a raised brow, instantly making you feel a little more relaxed.

"And I figured since my agenda was already empty for most of the day, I'd cancel the last few meetings I had left as well to go and spend some much-needed quality time with my girl," your boyfriend tells you before putting Moon down on the counter together with the package.

Tony gently cups your face without saying another word before capturing your lips in a loving, slow kiss. Your eyes slip shut as you let the feeling of Tony take over your entire being, the scent of him filling your senses as your hands slide into his cropped, dark brown hair. A soft moan escapes your lips as he slips his tongue into your mouth, stepping impossibly closer as he does so.

The taste of coffee still lingers on his tongue as he takes his time to explore your mouth with his before he allows one of his hands to glide down your neck and towards your waist, pulling your soft curves to his firm, muscled body until they move in sync with one another.

Much too soon for your liking, he pulls back and smiles down at you, his chocolate brown eyes looking into yours with a fond look. "I love you, Sugar," Tony whispers when the music changes from the kind you were listening to earlier to Heaven by Bryan Adams, so you take the opportunity to dance with him.

Slowly swaying from left to right, your hands are lying on his neck, his hands gently squeezing your hips as you two move effortlessly throughout the kitchen.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance," you ask with a raised brow, and Tony chuckles at your remark as he shakes his head.

"I meant that I can't dance at parties, Sugar. And I much prefer dancing here with you, in the privacy of our home," your boyfriend says, making your heartbeat rise at the words' our home.' Ever since you moved in, he hasn't been able to stop telling you how happy he is that you two have permanently moved in with him.

You lean in to lay your head against Tony's shoulder, and he happily envelops you in a hug as you two sway back and forth in place. The words flowing out of the speakers ring more true than ever.

And love is all that I need

And I found it there in your heart

It isn't too hard to see

We're in heaven

The moment the song ends, you hear a meow coming from the kitchen counter, and your attention is immediately pulled towards Moon, who's sitting there looking at you both while asking for some attention.

"It looks like our Baby wants some attention too, Angel," you tell Tony as you let go of him and walk towards Moon, allowing him to jump in your arms.

"Do you want to dance with Mommy and Daddy?" you ask. Moon answers with another meow before getting comfortable. You feel Tony pressing against your back and looking over your shoulder at the little black kitten you're raising.

Now it's time for all three of you to dance together, and you're feeling nothing but pure love for the two of them. The man who's holding you, who has saved you from a horrible situation, and the kitten you're carrying, who you, in turn, saved from a potential early death if you hadn't found him that day.

"What do you think of having babies of our own one day, Sugar? Like, human babies?" Tony asks, catching you off-guard as you step away and turn around. You scan his face for signs that he's joking, but when you find none, you immediately get a huge smile.

"Really, Tony? You want to have babies with me?" you ask excitedly, and he can't help but smile at your enthusiasm as he nods.

"Did you hear that, Moon? Daddy wants to give you a little human brother or sister! Would you like that, too?" you ask Moon, who looks up at you, his bright blue eyes beaming as he does. Your heart melts at the sight.

"I- It's been my dream to become a Mom for as long as I can remember, Tony. But especially since I lost my own Mom, it's been on my mind even more. Even though she won't be around to see them grow up, I know she would love seeing me raise my babies, too," you say to him, and the tears are already brimming on your waterline at the thought of your Mom.

"And I know she would have been the proudest Mom there is, Sugar. Seeing you when you graduate and start your career, when you get pregnant and give birth, I'm sure she would have been front and center for all of it," Tony says as he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away the tears that have escaped.

"Oh, you bet she would have been," you tell Tony through the tears, a laugh escaping too at the thought of your Mom being in the same room as you when giving birth. No one would've been prouder of you than her, that's for sure.

"Thank you for being by my side through it all, Tony. Now that it's just you and me, I know it isn't easy, but I wouldn't be able to do it without you," you whisper to him while clutching Moon carefully to your chest at the same time.

His thumbs caress your cheeks again before he kisses you lovingly, and he can't help but let a few tears of his escape at your words.

"There's nowhere else I would rather be than right here by your side, my sweet Sugar. Because by your side is the only place I want to be."

However, before you can answer him, the oven timer goes off, and you both laugh at its horrible timing. Despite this, you give him one more peck on his lips before putting Moon on the counter and pulling out the cookies, filling the entire penthouse with a delicious smell.

You've been seated on the couch with Tony as you're getting some schoolwork done, and he's cuddling with Moon while watching TV until the boredom kicks in for him, and he suddenly gets an entirely different idea as he puts Moon down and gets up from the couch.

"I've been thinking of having some fun before dinner, Sugar," Tony tells you with a raised brow and a mischievous smirk, leaving you wondering what he could be planning this close to dinner time. He's never disappointed you with his ideas, so you're eager to learn.

You put your laptop down on the couch when Tony extends his hand for you to take, and you do so, only to find him leading you to the large bathroom attached to the main bedroom.

"We might need to get some dinner before you fuck my brains out, Tony," you say jokingly, but he just chuckles before turning around, halting you in your place. The height difference between you is noticeable when you're barefoot in front of him, and you have to crane your neck to meet his gaze, which only spurs your boyfriend on more.

"Believe me, my sweet Sugar, when I say I will definitely do that later, but that's not the plan I have right now," he says in a low tone, his voice almost dropping an octave near the end. Goosebumps appear on your skin as your breath hitches at his words, your thighs clenching at his words.

"I'm planning on having a shower together, and I was hoping to see you on your knees for me like a good girl. You are a good girl for me, right?" Tony asks, and it's like you're nailed to the floor, your mouth suddenly becoming dry as the words sink in, but you're unable to respond. You want nothing more than to do what he asks, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat as you nod.

"Words, Sugar. Big girls use their words to get what they want," Tony orders as he steps even closer, and you can feel his rapidly hardening cock pressing against the soft flesh of your stomach, your underwear now completely ruined as your arousal is threatening to drip down your thighs.

"Y-yes, Daddy," you manage to say, and he smiles approvingly.

"There she is, there's my good girl," Tony says as he softly kisses your cheek, your eyes slipping shut at the feeling of his lips against the heated skin. Tony's lips curl into a smile as he pulls back, his hands wandering over your body to shed the layers of clothing you're wearing. Before you know it, you're entirely bare in front of your boyfriend, who's still fully clothed.

He doesn't need to tell you what to do, as you already know he wants you to undress him, which is precisely what you do. From swiftly untying his tie to opening up every button on his shirt before slipping it off his shoulders and then sinking on your knees to open his pants, which are already tented from the erection he's gotten from the thought of what's about to happen.

"So big, Daddy, wanna have a taste," you say as you nuzzle his cock through his pants, but he laces his fingers in your hair before pulling back softly.

"Later, Sugar. Your job is to free it so we can shower," he says with a wink, and you whine softly in disapproval. The fact that the treat you've been longing for is right in front of you, yet you can't have a taste, is unfair in your opinion. Despite this, you do as he says, moaning as you clench around nothing when his giant, veiny cock springs free from his pants - not a single scrap of underwear in sight.

Your gaze drags over the large, fleshy member as you look at the adorning veins. They lead to the pink tip you want to wrap your lips around and suckle on, a bead of pre-cum already escaping. Before you can stop yourself, you lick it up as you hum at the salty taste of him, and Tony hisses at the feeling of his sensitive cock being licked like that.

"No." he suddenly says, and you look up at him with a shocked expression despite knowing you did something against his orders.

"And here I thought you were a good girl," Tony tells you, and you nod, but he shakes his head.

"Good girls don't disobey orders from their Daddy, do they? Maybe I should go shower alone and leave you here to think about what you did," he says, but that doesn't sound like a good idea.

"N-No, Daddy! Please, let me come with you! I'm sorry; I promise I will be a good girl! Want to be Daddy's good girl," you beg your boyfriend, and he raises his eyebrow, but he's not entirely convinced yet. He wants you to beg just a bit more.

"Please, Daddy, I want to make you feel good! I swear to make you feel so good and listen to you. Please-" is all you say before he gives in, hauling you up by your arms before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. There's only so much he can take before giving in to you when you're begging him so sweetly.

"Alright, Babygirl, let's go shower," he says as he pulls away, and you practically run into the large bathroom, earning yourself a chuckle from Tony at your eagerness. While the water heats up, Tony sets you down on the counter so you're at the perfect height to drape your arms around his neck, pulling him close as your lips collide in another kiss.

His thick fingers are digging into your hips as he pulls you to the edge of it, the tip of his cock teasing your dripping pussy as he ruts his hips forward, and you moan into his mouth. However, you know better than to go against what he wants, and you let him tease you as much as he needs; you don't want to be left outside the shower.

"I think the water's warm enough, so let's go in, hmm?" Tony asks, and you nod eagerly before getting off the counter and following him into the large shower, ready for what's to come. Lucky for you, you don't have to wait long because Tony guides you onto your knees as soon as the water cascades down on you both.

"Are you comfortable, Sugar?" he asks softly, and you smile.

"Yes, Daddy. 'M very comfortable," you answer him as you follow the water droplets down his body, over his arc reactor, and down the planes of muscle to your goal: Tony's large, hard and enticing cock.

"Good," he says as he wraps his hand around the bottom of his cock, and you lean in before opening your mouth, earning yourself an approving hum from your boyfriend. He slowly feeds his cock to you, and you happily wrap your lips around every single inch he's feeding you, your mind quieting down immediately as he does.

Your hands are lying on his thighs while his hands are now both laced into your hair, not to set the pace but so he can ground himself as he's looking at you, expertly swallowing down his cock into your throat. A groan escapes as your nose presses against his pelvic bone while you gag around him, and it makes you feel like you're floating.

"That's it, taking Daddy's cock so fucking well," Tony groans through gritted teeth as he throws his head back, trying his hardest not to fuck into your throat, knowing full well he won't last long if he does. Meanwhile, you pull back to suckle on his tip, your hand working the parts of him that are now uncovered while looking up at him.

The mascara you were wearing is running down your face as the shower's water rains down on you, but that doesn't stop you from going in again, tears trickling down your cheeks as you swallow him down again without warning, which is Tony's undoing. Without warning, he cums into your throat and moan, forcing you to swallow every last drop as your eyes are locked on his.

"Fuckin' fuck! Jesus- Oh god, Sugar!" is all he can say as he fucks your mouth while working himself through his orgasm, and you let him go with a pop when he's becoming too sensitive. With Tony's help, you get up again, and he immediately pulls you against him for a kiss, moaning at the taste of himself on your tongue.

"How did I get so lucky, hm? To have such a good girl like you?" Tony asks you, and your cheeks heat up, making him smile as his heart beats faster.

"I'm the lucky one, Daddy," you whisper before tucking your face into his neck, and Tony wraps his arms around you to pull you against his body, needing you close to him as you're both enjoying the warmth of the shower before it's time to get ready for dinner.

You're standing in the bedroom in nothing more than a pair of panties when you suddenly remember the package left on the kitchen counter, so without saying a word, you run out there, and Tony looks at you with wide eyes as he tries his hardest not to drool over the way your body looks as you run.

You quickly grab it before walking back to Tony, who's still speechless at your sudden departure, and you laugh as you show him the package he brought home.

"I got something for us to wear tonight! To make it even more special, I bought a matching pair of pajamas, but if you don't like it, we don't-"

"You did... what? Oh my god, I've never had anyone do that for me before!" Tony says before you can finish your sentence, and his enthusiasm works wonders for you. You put them on when they're out of the package, and Tony can't stop smiling.

"Why did you think I wouldn't like them, Sugar? They're perfect and comfortable, too! And I love that you're now officially wearing your title of the Queen, too," he says before kissing you, leaving you flustered.

"I- Sorry," you whisper before looking away from him, suddenly feeling insecure. However, he doesn't allow you to get too far into your thoughts because he lifts your face with his index finger until his soft gaze meets yours.

"Don't apologize, my sweet girl. There's nothing you need to apologize for. I was just surprised because no one has ever considered getting me a matching pair of pajamas, but I love that you did. Because it seems nothing short of fitting," he tells you before gently grabbing and squeezing your hands.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you look up at him before nodding. Then, you grab your phone from the bed to look at the time, and you are immediately greeted by a photo of Moon wearing batwings as you unlock your phone.

"Shall I tell Happy to get some dinner for us while you set up our movie night?" Tony asks when he sees the time as well, and you nod.

"I think Moon might enjoy getting a bottle while we're waiting for dinner, too; that way, he doesn't have to wait as long for his last feeding tonight," you tell your boyfriend, who agrees as he follows you into the large living room.

It doesn't take long before the oversized couch is prepared with your favorite blankets and many pillows, so you happily let yourself sink into it as you look at Tony holding Moon as he drinks his bottle. Even though he technically doesn't need it anymore, he still enjoys it, and it has become a part of your routine, so you'll happily do it as long as he accepts his bottles.

"How's he doing today?" you ask Tony as he sits down, and you coo over Moon with your head lying on your boyfriend's shoulder. Tony tells you how he's doing before starting the first Harry Potter movie because you have decided to watch all of them during your weekend together.

Dinner arrives shortly after the first part of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, and you find out that Tony has ordered your favorite: Italian. It doesn't take long for every last bit of pasta and tiramisu to be gone, and now, you can relax for the rest of the evening.

During the movie, you grab the cookies you made for Tony before breaking off a piece and feeding it to him, earning yourself an approving moan at the taste.

"How did I ever get so lucky with you, Sugar? You're taking amazing care of me, and you make me feel so loved, too," he tells you as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. A warm feeling spreads through your belly as the butterflies go wild, and he makes you feel just as love as you make him feel.

Without saying anything, you lean in for a few small, soft kisses, which he happily reciprocates, and you pull away with a giant smile adorning your face.

"I love you, Tony," you tell him when you're getting comfortable with Moon in your lap, who's quickly sleeping as you pet him during the rest of the first movie.

By the time the first Harry Potter movie is finished, you are already starting to get a little sleepy from all the food you've had. Still, you're determined to watch one more movie, and when you stretch out for a moment, Moon wakes up before going over to Tony and getting comfortable on his arc reactor - one of his favorite places to sleep.

"Look at that, you two are so cute together!" you say before snapping a few photos of them, and Tony can't stop smiling as you show them to him. Right now, he's feeling more loved than ever, and he cannot thank you enough for that.

All three of you stay like that for almost the entire duration of the second movie, and when that one's finished, you're curled into his side while Moon is sleeping on his cat tree, and Tony's arm is wrapped around your shoulders to pull you closer.

"I love you so much, Sugar, more than I could ever explain to you," he tells you before kissing the crown of your head, and you lay your hand over his arc reactor, which always calms your mind and body down. Before you know it, the second movie is over, too, and it's time to go to bed.

"Do you want to walk to the bedroom, or does my Queen prefer to be carried there?" Tony asks with a smirk, and you tell him you want to be carried there, just as he suspected. Once you're in the bedroom, your boyfriend carefully places you on the bed.

"God, you're so beautiful, Sugar. I doubt I'll ever get enough of you," Tony says as he crawls over you once you're comfortable and your hair splayed out over the pillows like a halo. Once he hovers over you, he leans down to kiss your lips softly, and you drape your arms over his neck to pull him closer.

You will never get enough of the way he feels when he's this close, but you also know it would feel even better when you're both completely bare. As if he can read your mind, Tony slowly undresses before peeling off your layers of clothing, too, not wanting anything to be between you.

"So beautiful," he whispers again as his gaze wanders over your body, and a blush creeps onto your cheeks as he does. However, You don't get to think about it for too long because Tony has never been known for his patience.

"God, I missed this sweet, tight pussy so much, Sugar," he says in a breathy voice as he pushes in, your legs wrapped around his hips as he does. The moment he bottoms out, he makes eye contact with you, which causes him to almost cum on the spot.

"We will have such beautiful babies, Sugar. I just know it," Tony whispers in your ear as he sets a slow, comfortable pace. You moan softly at his words, which only spurred him on more.

"Having little versions of you running around, it would be perfect," he tells you as he makes love to you while telling you all about his fantasies about having your babies. And you carrying them, too.

"Can you imagine it, Sugar? This beautiful belly all round with my babies, these beautiful breasts swelling with milk for me," Tony says as he increases his pace, his cock twitching inside you as you clench at the thought of him drinking from you.

"Yeah? You want to drink my milk?" you ask him, and he nods. There's nothing else he'd rather want than to drink from you when you're producing it, the thought turning him into a moaning mess as his pace starts to falter.

"God, 'm so close, Sugar, cum with me," he pleads, and you nod.

"I'm there, Tony, 'm there with you," you tell him, and with a few more strokes, both you and Tony cum at the same time. The way you milk him has him quickly becoming sensitive, but he doesn't dare pull out, not when you're making him feel this good.

"Wanna stay inside you, fuck! Never want to leave this sweet pussy," he groans, and you caress his face before telling him you don't want him to leave, either. With those words, Tony carefully turns both of you over until you're lying on top of him, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Sleep well, my beautiful Sugar. I love you," Tony whispers when your face is tucked against his neck, the comforter lying over you both as you drift off to sleep.

"I love you" is all you whisper before sleep officially pulls you under. The warmth of your boyfriend combined with the soft hum of his arc reactor and the way he just tuckered you out has you falling asleep in no time, and you already know you want to fall asleep like this way more often if you get the chance.

The next morning, you're awake as soon as the sun starts to rise, a golden hue cast over Tony's bedroom as you're pulled out of your dreamy state. For a moment, you revel in your boyfriend's closeness as he pulls you against his chest, a soft rumble leaving his chest.

"Hmmm... few more minutes, Sugar," he says in a deep morning voice, and you couldn't resist him even if you wanted to. Your eyes slip shut again as you revel in the soft feeling of Tony's lips placing soft kisses on your neck, and a soft moan slips out his fingers trail over your stomach.

"So responsive for me today, Sugar," he whispers. You can practically hear him smirk as he says it, which gives goosebumps all over your body. Your body's response to him will never fail to make him amazing.

You two stay like this for a few more minutes before you really have to get up. Your full bladder is now starting to make its presence known, so you turn around to face him, immediately greeted by his lips on yours as you do.

"How about this? You can stay in bed this morning while I make you breakfast. This weekend is all about you, my Angel, and you can do nothing but relax," you tell him, and he smiles at the idea of you bringing him breakfast in bed.

"I think that's the perfect way to start my morning," Tony tells you, and you give him a few more kisses before making your way out of the bed, still bare and a little sore from the intimacy you two shared last night. As soon as you spot Tony's shirt he wore to the office yesterday on the floor, you bend down to pick it up, giving Tony a perfect view of your butt and pussy as you do.

"Don't fuckin' tease me like that, Sugar," he growls, and you quickly run out of the bedroom as you laugh, putting on his shirt as you do. After a quick stop in the bathroom, you get ready to make Tony the perfect breakfast, but not without giving some love to Moon first.

"Good morning, sweet baby, how did you sleep?" you ask your kitten as he's headbutting your hand for love, meowing in response to your question.

"Do you want to come with me to the kitchen and help make breakfast for Daddy? I think you do!" you coo to him before scooping him up, and he happily purrs as he gets comfortable in your hand.

Once you're in the kitchen, you're once again dancing around to the music as you prepare scrambled eggs, French toast with extra cinnamon, and Tony's favorite coffee. However, you're quickly halted when you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and you smile as you melt into the touch.

"I thought I told you to stay in bed, my Angel," you say as you sway in place, but he chuckles at your words.

"I had every intention to, but even geniuses like myself have to use the bathroom every now and again. And besides, you know I can't stay away from you for too long, especially when you're dancing around in nothing but my shirt," he says as he squeezes your hips lovingly.

"Well... I think you should still go to bed. Otherwise, I made breakfast in bed for nothing," you say with a pout as you turn to face him, and he swiftly kisses it away, making the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

"Okay, but only because you asked nicely," he says with a wink, and it's when he lets you go and walks towards the bedroom that you see he's also completely bare, making you gasp softly.

"Don't stare for too long, Sugar!" he jokes before turning the corner and leaving you alone with your thoughts. After that, breakfast is quickly finished, and you set Moon down on your shoulder before grabbing the large tray, ready to bring your boyfriend his much-deserved breakfast.

"Hmm, it's looking delicious today, Sugar. And I don't mean the food," Tony says with a wink as you set the food down, and Moon jumps onto the bed from your shoulder, ready to settle on your lap once you're seated on the bed again.

"Thank you for everything, Sugar. I don't know what I would do without you or Moon," Tony tells you as he caresses your cheek with his thumb and leans in for one more kiss before diving into the food you've made.

You can get used to sharing your Saturday mornings like this and having a little one running around one day would ultimately finish the dream for you both, but for now, you will happily cuddle with Moon until that dream becomes a reality.

[theycallmeinterstellar]

[amethystarachnid]

I absolutely adore your Tony Stark fics and I love the fluff they usually have but I was hoping to request some angst. preferably where Tony and reader have been fighting lately cause he’s always down in the lab and won’t come to bed, then reader comes down late one night and he confesses to having nightmare’s and about being afraid, there’s a lot of reassurance and tears: maybe some yelling at the beginning and ofc fluff at the end ;3 Tysm, <3

STARK REALITIES

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: angst, angst, some more angst and some fluff / romance at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): tony spending tooo much time in the lab but in the end he makes up for it <3

ᯓ★ oh I love the angst!

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You sit on the edge of the couch, arms folded tightly across your chest as you glare at the muted television. The flickering images do little to distract you from the simmering anger boiling just beneath your skin. It's late—too late for you to be awake, and certainly too late for Tony to still be in his lab. Yet, here you are, alone in the penthouse again, waiting for a man who’s made promises he doesn’t seem to care to keep anymore.

The silence of the apartment is oppressive. It stretches out, thin and brittle, like glass about to shatter. Even JARVIS, with his ever-present butler-like demeanor, seems to sense the tension and keeps his usual comments to himself. Your foot bounces restlessly against the floor, each tap echoing in the empty space like a metronome ticking away at your patience.

The elevator dings faintly, the sound nearly lost in the expansive living room, and you straighten instinctively. The doors slide open with their familiar hiss, and Tony strides out, his steps unhurried, his focus glued to the holographic projection on the tablet in his hand. He’s still wearing his grease-streaked tank top and the same pair of sweatpants he’s had on for three days straight, looking every bit like the genius billionaire inventor the world reveres but nothing like the man you fell in love with.

“You’re finally done playing God in your lab?” you say, voice laced with sarcasm sharp enough to cut steel. It’s not the greeting he deserves, but it’s the only one you’re capable of mustering right now.

Tony glances up, his brow furrowing briefly before the mask of indifference slides into place. “Nice to see you too, sweetheart,” he replies, his tone dismissive as he sets the tablet down on the kitchen counter and pours himself a glass of water.

You scoff, leaning back against the couch as your arms tighten around yourself. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s not like I’ve been waiting up for you or anything.”

“I told you I’d be working late,” he says without looking at you, his voice calm in that maddeningly detached way that makes you feel like you’re shouting into the void.

“You always work late,” you snap, your voice rising despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “Do you even remember the last time we had a normal conversation? Or… hell, even a meal together that didn’t involve you shoving takeout boxes aside so you could get back to tinkering with one of your precious suits?”

Tony sighs, finally turning to face you. His face is tired, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, but there’s a flicker of irritation there too, a spark that ignites your own fury. “You knew what you were signing up for,” he says, his voice edging toward defensive. “This is who I am, Y/N. It’s not like any of this is new.”

“No, it’s not new,” you agree, standing now, unable to keep still under the weight of your emotions. “But it’s worse. You’re worse. You barely look at me anymore, Tony. Half the time, I don’t even know if you’re listening when I talk to you. It’s like you’ve replaced me with… with your damn lab.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the gesture so practiced it’s almost automatic. “You’re overreacting.”

The words hit you like a slap, and your chest tightens as a bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Overreacting?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. “God, you really don’t get it, do you?”

Tony crosses his arms, leaning back against the counter as he regards you with a mixture of exasperation and something that looks suspiciously like guilt. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I’m sorry? Fine. I’m sorry. But I have responsibilities. You think I’m down there because I enjoy ignoring you?”

“I don’t know, Tony,” you shoot back. “Do you?”

He flinches, the question hitting closer to home than either of you expected. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the silence between you heavy and suffocating. You can feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of him.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you say finally, your voice quieter but no less firm. “You can’t keep shutting me out, Tony. I… I love you. But I can’t keep waiting for you to decide that I’m worth your time.”

His expression softens, the irritation fading to reveal the vulnerability he tries so hard to hide. He takes a step toward you, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” you say, your voice breaking. “Don’t say anything unless you actually mean it.”

Tony stops, his hand falling to his side. He looks at you, really looks at you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you see a flicker of the man you fell in love with. But it’s not enough. Not this time.

Without another word, you turn and walk toward the bedroom, your heart heavy in your chest. You don’t slam the door behind you—you don’t have the energy for it. Instead, you close it softly, leaning against it as the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over.

In the silence of the room, you hear Tony’s footsteps retreating back toward the elevator. Of course he’s going back to the lab. You don’t know why you expected anything different.

Sliding down to the floor, you bury your face in your hands and let yourself cry, the weight of your frustration and heartbreak washing over you in waves. You love him. God, you love him so much it hurts. But love isn’t enough to bridge the growing chasm between you. Not when he’s so determined to keep building walls.

And for the first time, you wonder if you’ll ever be enough to tear them down.

The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed, the sheets cold on Tony’s side. You expected it. He didn’t come to bed last night, just like he hasn’t for weeks. Still, the sight of the undisturbed pillow and blanket twists something sharp and painful in your chest.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you go through the motions of your morning routine, pretending it doesn’t bother you. Pretending it isn’t slowly eating you alive. By the time you make it to the kitchen, you find evidence of Tony’s presence—an empty mug in the sink, a crumpled napkin on the counter—but he’s nowhere to be found.

He’s in the lab. Of course.

Despite the ache in your chest, you decide to try again. Maybe today will be different. Maybe he’ll look at you like he used to, with warmth and affection instead of that distracted, faraway gaze he’s perfected over the past few months.

You make coffee, brewing it just the way he likes. It’s a small thing, but it feels like an offering, a token of the love you’re struggling to keep alive. Balancing the steaming mug in your hand, you head toward the lab, your heart heavy but hopeful.

When you step inside, the familiar hum of machinery greets you, along with the sight of Tony hunched over his workbench. His hair is a mess, his eyes glued to the glowing hologram in front of him. He doesn’t even look up when you enter.

“Morning,” you say, forcing cheerfulness into your voice.

“Morning,” he mumbles, not bothering to glance your way.

You place the coffee beside him, lingering for a moment in case he acknowledges you. But he doesn’t. He keeps tinkering, muttering under his breath about calibrations and power outputs.

“Thought we could have breakfast together,” you try, your voice softer now, hesitant.

“Can’t. Busy,” he replies curtly, tapping at the hologram with quick, precise movements.

Your heart sinks. “You’re always busy, Tony.”

“Yeah, because someone has to be,” he snaps, finally looking at you but only to shoot you a brief, irritated glare.

The words sting, and you bite your lip to keep the tears at bay. “Right. Of course. Sorry for interrupting.”

You turn and walk away before he can see how much his dismissal hurts. The coffee sits untouched on the table, a silent reminder of your failed attempt to connect with him.

Later, you sit in a café with your closest friends, picking at the edges of a croissant you have no intention of eating. The conversation around you is lighthearted, but you’re too distracted to participate. Eventually, one of them notices your silence.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

They don’t buy it. They never do. “Come on, what’s going on? Is it Tony?”

The mention of his name is enough to make your carefully constructed façade crumble. You sigh, leaning back in your chair as you stare out the window. “It’s… it’s like he’s not even there anymore. I try to talk to him, to spend time with him, but it’s like I don’t exist. He’s always in his lab, and when he does talk to me, it’s just… nothing. He doesn’t see me. Not really.”

Your friends exchange glances, their concern evident. “Maybe you need to stop trying so hard,” one of them suggests gently. “Let him come to you for a change. See if he notices.”

The idea lodges itself in your mind, and though it feels counterintuitive, you decide to try. Maybe they’re right. Maybe you’re smothering him. Maybe giving him space will make him realize what he’s missing.

The next few days are agony.

You stop going to the lab. You stop leaving coffee by his workstation. You stop waiting up for him at night. You don’t even text him anymore. It’s excruciating, every second of silence stretching longer and heavier than the last.

Tony doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t come to bed. He doesn’t ask where you are. He doesn’t even look for you. Days turn into nights and then into more days, and the distance between you grows until it feels insurmountable.

You start to feel like a ghost in your own home, haunting the spaces you used to share. The living room, the kitchen, the bedroom—all of them feel emptier than ever. Even when Tony is there, it’s like he isn’t.

You try to distract yourself. You throw yourself into work, into hobbies, into anything that might fill the gaping void in your chest. But it’s no use. You miss him. God, you miss him so much it’s unbearable.

One night, you find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the empty hallway that leads to the lab. Your chest is tight, your hands trembling as you fight the urge to go to him. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. You promised yourself you’d wait for him to come to you.

But he hasn’t.

And deep down, you know he won’t.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and you curl in on yourself, pressing your face into your hands as sobs wrack your body. You’ve never felt so lonely, so unloved, so utterly invisible.

This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like.

A week passes before you finally see Tony again. He emerges from the lab late one night, his face pale and drawn with exhaustion. You’re sitting on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background, but you don’t acknowledge him.

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering toward you. For a second, you think he’s going to say something, but then he turns and heads to the kitchen without a word.

It’s the final straw.

You stand, your hands clenched at your sides as you follow him. He’s pouring himself a glass of water when you speak, your voice trembling with barely contained emotion.

“Do you even care anymore?”

Tony freezes, the glass halfway to his lips. Slowly, he sets it down and turns to face you. “What are you talking about?”

“You!” you shout, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’ve been holding in. “Us! This… whatever this is! Do you even care? Because it doesn’t feel like it, Tony. It hasn’t felt like it for a long time.”

His brow furrows, confusion and defensiveness warring on his face. “Of course I care. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then show me!” you plead, your voice breaking. “God, Tony, I’ve been trying so hard, and you don’t even notice. I’ve given you space, I’ve stopped bothering you, I’ve waited for you to come to me, and you haven’t. Not once.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy,” you repeat bitterly. “Right. Busy. Always busy. Too busy to talk to me, to spend time with me, to even look at me. Is that all I am to you? A distraction?”

Tony’s silence is deafening, and it cuts deeper than any words ever could.

You feel your heart shatter as you take a shaky step back. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, the weight of your heartbreak threatening to crush you with every step. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stay here. Not like this.

Not when it feels like you’re already gone.

Tony's p.o.v.

I don’t hear the bedroom door shut behind her, but I feel it. That silence—the kind that wraps around your chest like a steel vice—settles over the room, and I just stand there, staring at the glass of water in my hand like it holds the answers I need. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

Her words ring in my ears long after she’s gone. Do you even care anymore? Of course I care. God, of course I care. She knows that, doesn’t she?

Doesn’t she?

I don’t follow her. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know what the hell to say if I do. Every time we talk lately, it’s a minefield. One wrong step, and everything blows up.

So, I stay put. Like a coward.

I drain the glass in one gulp and set it down harder than I mean to, the sharp clink echoing in the empty kitchen. My hands are shaking. My hands never shake.

I retreat to the lab because it’s the only place that feels safe anymore. It’s easier down there—quiet, predictable, full of problems I can solve with equations and torque adjustments. Not the kind of problems that have your girlfriend looking at you like she doesn’t recognize you anymore.

The elevator ride feels longer than usual. Or maybe that’s just my guilt stretching out the seconds. When I step into the lab, the familiar hum of machinery greets me, and for a moment, I can almost pretend everything’s fine.

But it’s not.

I drop into the chair by my workstation and rub a hand over my face. The holograms I left running earlier flicker back to life, but I can’t focus on them. All I can see is the way she looked at me—her eyes red-rimmed, her voice cracking. She’s been crying. Again.

I hate that I’m the reason.

The worst part? I don’t even know when it got this bad. It didn’t happen overnight. It crept in, slow and insidious, until one day we were strangers living under the same roof.

I’ve been here before. Not with her, but with people I’ve cared about. Pepper. Rhodey. Hell, even my parents. I’m great at pushing people away—gold medal level, actually—but this? This is different. This is her.

And I’m screwing it up.

Days blur together. I bury myself in work because it’s what I do best. There’s always something to fix, always some new crisis to prepare for, always another project to distract me from the sinking feeling in my gut.

But no amount of work can distract me from the emptiness in the penthouse. She’s still here—I hear her moving around sometimes, quiet as a ghost—but we don’t see each other. She doesn’t come to the lab anymore, and I don’t go looking for her.

I tell myself it’s for the best. Give her space. Let things cool down. That’s what people do, right? They take time to figure things out.

But the days stretch on, and the silence between us grows louder.

One night, I sit in the lab staring at the half-finished schematics for a new suit, and my mind won’t stop replaying her voice. I can’t do this anymore.

It’s not the first time she’s said something like that, but this time it sounded different. Final.

The thought sends a jolt of panic through me. What if she meant it? What if she’s done?

My hands tighten into fists, and I shove back from the desk, pacing the length of the lab like a caged animal. I’ve been here before, too—standing on the edge of losing someone who matters. Every time, I tell myself I’ll do better, and every time, I fall back into the same damn patterns.

But this time… this time feels worse. Because I don’t just care about her. I need her.

I grab the tablet off the desk and scroll through the security feeds until I find her. She’s in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket pulled tightly around her. The TV is on, but she’s not watching it. She’s staring at the floor, her expression blank, like she’s not even there.

The sight punches me in the gut.

I want to go to her. I want to tell her I’m sorry, that I’ll do better, that she means more to me than any suit or project ever could. But the words catch in my throat, trapped behind years of bad habits and emotional walls.

Instead, I turn off the tablet and pour myself another drink.

A week goes by, and I start to wonder if this is it. If this is how we end—not with a fight, but with silence.

The thought terrifies me.

I sit in the lab one night, staring at the arc reactor glowing in my chest. It’s supposed to keep me alive, this thing I built with my own two hands. But right now, it feels like it’s killing me. Because what’s the point of staying alive if I’m driving away the one person who makes it worth it?

I think about going upstairs, about finding her and saying everything I’ve been too afraid to say. But what if she doesn’t want to hear it? What if I’m too late?

The thought paralyzes me. So, I stay in the lab, surrounded by machines that can’t fix this.

Y/n's p.o.v.

You don’t even remember falling asleep. One moment, you’re staring at the ceiling, trying to will yourself into calm, and the next, you’re dreaming. At first, it’s nothing—a blur of memories and emotions—until suddenly, it’s not.

You’re in the penthouse, calling out Tony’s name. The rooms are dark, unfamiliar, like you’re walking through a house you no longer belong to. You call again, but there’s no answer. Panic builds in your chest, clawing at your ribs.

When you finally find him, he’s standing in the middle of the lab, surrounded by blue holograms and the hum of machinery. Relief floods you, and you step toward him, but something’s wrong. He won’t look at you.

“Tony,” you say, your voice trembling. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, his voice cold and detached.

The words hit you like a slap. “What are you talking about?”

He finally turns to face you, and the look in his eyes is like ice. “This. Us. It’s too much. I’m better off alone.”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “You don’t mean that.”

But he does. You can see it in the way he turns away, in the finality of his movements as he walks out of the lab, out of the house, out of your life. You try to follow him, but your feet won’t move, like you’re rooted to the spot. You scream his name, over and over, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back.

And then you wake up.

Your chest heaves as you sit up, your heart pounding like it’s trying to escape your ribs. The room is dark, the sheets twisted around you, damp with sweat. For a moment, you can’t breathe.

It was just a dream.

But the panic doesn’t ease.

You reach out instinctively, your hand searching for him in the dark, but his side of the bed is empty. The sheets are cold.

“Tony?” you call out, your voice hoarse.

Silence.

The panic surges again, a tidal wave crashing over you. You throw off the covers and stumble out of bed, your legs trembling as you make your way to the door. The penthouse is quiet—too quiet—and every shadow feels like it’s mocking you.

You know where he is.

Your feet carry you toward the lab, your breath hitching with every step. Tears blur your vision, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

By the time you reach the lab, you’re sobbing, your chest heaving with a mix of fear and relief as you see him sitting at his workbench. He’s hunched over, focused on something in his hands, the glow of the arc reactor casting soft blue light across the room.

“Tony,” you choke out, your voice breaking.

He startles, turning toward you, and the moment he sees you, his expression shifts from confusion to concern. “Y/N? What—what’s wrong?”

You can’t get the words out. You take a shaky step forward, then another, until you’re standing in front of him, tears streaming down your face.

“I thought you—” You can’t finish the sentence. The dream is still too fresh, the fear too real.

Tony stands immediately, his hands reaching for you. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

The moment his arms wrap around you, the dam breaks. You cling to him, sobbing into his chest, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt like he might disappear if you let go.

“I thought you left,” you whisper between sobs. “I dreamed you left, and I couldn’t find you, and I—”

He pulls you closer, his hand cradling the back of your head as he presses his lips to your temple. “I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice steady and soothing. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“But you’re always here,” you cry, gesturing weakly toward the lab. “You’re always in the lab, and I—I feel like I’ve already lost you, Tony. And then the dream—”

“Shh,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. He cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up so you can see the sincerity in his eyes. “Listen to me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately, and I hate that I’ve made you feel like this.”

Your lip trembles as you try to speak, but he shakes his head, cutting you off gently.

“You’re the most important thing in my life, Y/N,” he says, his voice breaking. “Not this lab, not the suits, not any of it. You. And I know I’ve been taking you for granted, and I hate myself for it. But I swear to you, I’m going to do better. I’m going to make this right.”

His words are like a balm on your heart, but the fear still lingers. “What if you don’t?” you whisper.

“I will,” he says, his hands framing your face like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world. “I swear to you, I will. I’m going to spend less time in the lab. Hell, I’ll shut it down for a week if that’s what it takes. I’ll take you out, we’ll go somewhere—anywhere you want. Just say the word, and I’ll do it.”

You search his eyes, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all you see is the raw, unfiltered love you’ve been missing for so long.

“I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

The tears start again, but this time they’re different. They’re not from fear or sadness but from relief, from the overwhelming weight of his words sinking in.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you wrap your arms around him.

He holds you tight, his lips brushing against your hair as he murmurs reassurances over and over, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he stops.

For the first time in months, the knot in your chest starts to loosen. It’s not perfect—it’s not fixed—but it’s a start.

And as you stand there in his arms, the steady hum of the arc reactor filling the room, you let yourself believe that maybe everything will be okay.

Tony doesn’t let go of you, not even for a second. He holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, his arms wrapped so tightly around you that it’s almost as if he’s afraid you might disappear if he loosens his grip. His hand strokes your back in slow, comforting circles as your breathing starts to even out, the weight of your nightmare slowly ebbing away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers against your hair, his voice softer than you’ve heard it in weeks. “I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go.”

You press your face into his chest, the steady hum of the arc reactor soothing in a way you didn’t think it could be anymore. His warmth, his scent, his presence—they’re everything you’ve been aching for, and now that you have them, you’re terrified of losing them all over again.

“Come on,” Tony says gently, his lips brushing against your temple. “Let’s get out of here. You need rest, and I’m not letting you wake up alone again.”

You nod, too drained to argue, and he shifts just enough to pick you up, cradling you against him like you weigh nothing. He’s always been strong, but this feels different—like he’s carrying you not just physically but emotionally, too.

When he lays you down in bed, he doesn’t hesitate to climb in beside you. He pulls you close, tangling his legs with yours and wrapping his arms around you like he’s determined to make up for every night he’s spent away. You feel his lips press softly against your forehead, then your cheek, and finally, he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve been an idiot, and I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t my everything. Because you are, Y/N. You’re everything to me.”

You don’t say anything. You just bury your face in his chest and let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in months.

When you wake up the next morning, he’s still there.

True to his word, Tony doesn’t let himself get sucked back into the lab. The very next day, he shuts down half his projects, instructing JARVIS to notify him only in case of emergencies. You don’t realize how serious he is until he emerges from the lab with a packed suitcase in one hand and a mischievous grin on his face.

“You,” he says, pointing at you like he’s just cracked the code to the universe, “and me. Anywhere you want to go. Name it.”

You laugh, thinking he’s joking, but when you realize he’s not, your heart skips a beat. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it,” he says, pulling you into his arms. “You’ve been stuck with the brooding, workaholic version of me for too long. It’s time you got the fun one again. Now, come on—where to? Paris? Rome? That weird island with the bioluminescent plankton?”

You can’t help but laugh at the way he lists the options like a kid flipping through a catalog. “Tony, we don’t have to go anywhere fancy—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips warm and soft against yours. “This isn’t about fancy. This is about you and me, getting out of here and seeing the world. So pick a place, any place.”

You do, and before you know it, you’re on a plane to Italy, watching the sun set over the Mediterranean with a glass of wine in your hand and Tony’s arm draped casually around your shoulders. It’s the first of many trips—each one more magical than the last.

In Paris, he takes you to a quiet little bistro tucked away in a cobblestone alley, where the two of you share a bottle of wine and laugh until your sides hurt. He even attempts to speak French to the waiter, which ends in spectacular failure and has you both in stitches.

In Tokyo, he gets you lost in a maze of neon-lit streets, insisting he doesn’t need a map because “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, remember?” You end up finding a tiny ramen shop that serves the best bowl of noodles you’ve ever had, and Tony spends the rest of the night bragging about his “impeccable sense of direction.”

In Egypt, he arranges for a private tour of the pyramids at sunrise. You watch the sky turn shades of pink and gold as he wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Beautiful,” he says, but when you glance at him, he’s not looking at the pyramids—he’s looking at you.

It’s not just the grand gestures, though. It’s the little things that make your heart ache in the best way. The way he holds your hand on crowded streets, the way he carries your bags even when you insist you can manage, the way he sneaks kisses when he thinks no one’s looking.

One night in Santorini, he surprises you with a candlelit dinner on the balcony of your villa. The view is breathtaking—the whitewashed buildings glowing against the deep blue of the sea—but it’s nothing compared to the way Tony looks at you across the table.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says out of nowhere, his voice quiet but earnest.

You reach across the table to take his hand. “You’re wrong. We deserve each other.”

He smiles, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” you counter, leaning forward to press a kiss to his hand.

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm—one that feels like the way things used to be, before the fights and the distance. He’s not perfect—there are days when he slips back into his old habits, disappearing into the lab for hours—but he always makes up for it.

He surprises you with breakfast in bed, takes you on spontaneous dates, and even sits through a rom-com marathon with you, groaning dramatically every time a character makes a clichéd speech.

“I can’t believe people watch this stuff voluntarily,” he grumbles during one particularly cheesy scene, but the way he keeps sneaking glances at you suggests he’s enjoying it more than he lets on.

It’s not just about making up for lost time—it’s about creating new memories, new traditions, new reasons to fall in love with each other all over again.

And every time he holds your hand or whispers something ridiculous in your ear to make you laugh, you’re reminded of why you fell in love with him in the first place.

He’s Tony Stark—brilliant, infuriating, impossible Tony Stark. And as much as he drives you crazy sometimes, he’s also the man who loves you with every fiber of his being, the man who would move heaven and earth to make you happy.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[lokilaufeysonslove]

𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐟𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜!𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

// Summary // you are Tony and Pepper’s troublemaker daughter and ask a certain god of mischief for help to get out of trouble.

// Warnings // none

// Author’s Note // divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics / gif by @sophiestrashcann

MASTERLIST

You were standing in front of your school building, waiting for your father to pick you up. The day was very shitty. You were in trouble. Again. But you didn’t want your parents to find out, because they would freak out and forbid you to go to a concert of your favorite singer that was in just a week.

Well, your mother would. It’s not that you weren’t close to your father, quite the opposite, really, but he was more of a chill person. Your mother on the other hand was always freaking out and panicking.

A roar of a sports car pulled you out of your train of thoughts. You smiled at your father and headed towards his car. The car was gorgeous, brand new matte black Lamborghini Aventador. But it’s Tony Stark we’re talking about, of course he would have a car like that.

“Hey dad.” You kissed his cheek as you sat down in the passenger seat and clasped the seatbelt, throwing your bag in the back seat.

“Hey kid, how was your day?” He asked.

You panicked slightly, trying not to show it, and let’s be honest, you were doing excellent job. “As always. Study, sleep, then study again, then sleep.” You shrugged and leaned your head on the headboard.

Tony nodded understandingly, “When I was around your age, I couldn’t stand school as well. To be honest, I was very lazy and had very bad grades. My teachers were always telling me that I would never achieve anything if I kept going like that. Guess what? They were wrong!” He said, momentarily throwing his hands up at the last sentence, “Look at what a famous, talented, handsome, successful and great father you have.”

You scoffed at that playfully, still smiling and letting out a small laugh.

“What?! Am I wrong?” He asked with fake offense.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless, “No, not at all.”

After about ten minutes, you were finally home. You entered Stark Tower with your father and took the elevator to the top floor. You went up to your room, quickly changed and headed down to the living room.

You were thinking of what happened that morning at school. Some would say you were feeling guilty, but in reality, you were not. You just wanted to get out of this trouble. But who could help? You couldn’t ask Steve for help, because he would just lecture you and maybe even would tell your parents, Nat was on a mission, Thor was no help at all. If you would tell him, the whole tower would know by the end of the day. Others were not in the tower, only Loki- BOOM! Loki! Of course, how could you be so stupid?

You changed the course and started speed walking towards Loki’s room.

You got there in less than two minutes and knocked on his bedroom door. You could hear him groan from the other side of the door and you assumed that you interrupted his reading.

“What?” He stated coldly when he opened the door, but the coldness faded away as soon as he saw you. You walked past him and straight into his bedroom and started pacing around.

Loki closed the door and leaned against its frame, looking at you with amused expression, not saying a word.

You finally stopped walking and faced him, “Loki, I need your help.” You said very seriously.

“And may I ask what made you think that I would help you?” He said, one eyebrow raised.

“The fact that I’m just great, amazing, wonderful, and only human being you like?”

Loki sighed and tried his best to hide a small smile that started forming on his lips, but he wasn’t doing a good job. “What do you need my help with?” He asked.

“Okay, so, if i punched a boy from my school and my teacher called my dad and called him to school, hypothetically of course, would you help me get out of this whole shit?”

“Hypothetically?” Loki asked suspiciously. One, because your ‘hypothetically’ was never actually hypothetical, and two, because you would punch someone without hesitation. So, it didn’t sound like a truth to the god of lies at all.

You looked at him dead in the eye, and when he raised his eyebrow once again, you sighed. “Well, no, not hypothetically.”

“So, you punched a guy at your school, then your teacher called your father and called him to school. How do you expect me to help you, if your father already knows?”

You were quiet for a moment and then you spoke up, “I may, or may not, have given my teacher my number and faked my father’s voice.”

He looked at you as if you were delusional, “How in the nine realms did you fake your father’s voice?”

You smirked, “Technologies are very useful, you know.” When Loki didn’t say anything, you started whining, “Please, Loki, I can’t tell others.”

He sighed and looked at you again, “And what do you want me to do?”

Your eyes lit up with hope, “You are a shape shifter, aren’t you?”

“Ah, so you want me to turn into your father and come to your school instead of him?”

“Exactly!” You answered excitedly.

“Absolutely not.” Loki turned around and walked out of the living room, leaving you standing there.

You rolled your eyes, “By the way, I know where Thor keeps his secret stash of Pop-Tarts you couldn’t find the other day.” You said loudly, so Loki could hear.

At that, he walked back into his living room and looked at you dead in the eye. “You will tell me?”

“Only if you’ll help me.” You said with a serious tone.

“Deal.” He said, sticking his hand out for you to shake.

You smirked and shook his hand, “Deal.”

[paradiseinternet]

I Hate Tony Stark: Chapter One

pairing: Tony Stark x Soulmate!Reader

word count: 4.4k

triggers: war (hinted at), death (mentioned, not detailed), childhood trauma, poverty, out-of-body-experience.

author's note: Ayo, waz up. If you see this fic pop up in ao3 at some point it'll probably be me. I've got three chapters done so far but not gonna post them all right away. If you don't like world building, slow burns, and a touch of enemies to lovers, then this fic isn't for you. If you like soulmate au's, somewhat realistic character interactions (not "omgomg y/n I love you!!! <3"), and heavy main character setup, then this is for you. Seriously, I'm afraid of commitment so that slow burn gonna come in h a r d .

Enjoy luvs. --Missy

Chapter One: Merely a Suggestion

            Although it is a controversial topic, you are one of the few who believe soulmates are only really a suggestion. This naturally wasn’t your original hot take on soulmates; in fact, you swore to marry your soulmate the moment you found them. However, the world is sweeter to a five-year-old and reality doesn’t really daunt on the youth until at least eight. Marriage is a beautiful thing and by the time you were six you’d concluded that although you and your soulmate would get married, it didn’t have to be immediately. When you were seven and outside during recess, you would tell your schoolmates that you couldn’t wait for the day you could meet your soulmate. Don’t get it twisted, you weren’t entirely ignorant—your mother and father had told you that many people got a soulmate, but few met them. This didn’t damper your optimism and everything was sunshine and rainbows until you turned eight. It was at this point that you became more self-aware and less self-absorbed.

            Your mother, bless her heart, was a kindred soul who worked two jobs: one as a waitress at a restaurant down the street in the evenings, and the other as a childcare worker for a local pre-K daycare. On the other hand, your father worked only one job as a mechanic for his own business (of which was slowly going bankrupt). They are soulmates and you love them just as much as they love you. However, love doesn’t mend all holes. When you turned eight, the entire world seemed to flip on its head. Quickly you became aware that living in a single-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of California wasn’t typical for a family of three, never going out to eat isn’t necessarily common, and working more than one job in a two-income household isn’t normal. It was at this point that when your birthday came, you’d ask for fewer, less expensive things in hopes of being less of a financial burden. Your family was not rich, well off, or even content. Instead, this loving family was so poor that your father would need to occasionally go to food pantries sponsored by local churches to even put sustenance on the table.

            Even with such a financial burden, you’d made sure to do your best in school in hopes that one day you can be successful and care for your own parents when they reach retirement. And so, by the time you became eight, your fantasy of marrying your soulmate went onto a backburner as more pressing matters took stage.

            By the time you were almost ten years old you’d accepted that maybe you were part of the 40% of the population that didn’t have a soulmate; or more dauntingly, the 27% that would never meet their other half. Not that the former number is necessarily terrible, it’s certainly better than the other side of the 27% that typically results in death.

In reality (and taking historical facts into consideration), only 6% of the 60% who are supposed to find their soulmate actually do—and live. So, when your tenth birthday came and no new soulmate identification aid popped up on your skin, in your mind, or with your vision, you’d thrown in the towel with grace and accepted your placement in society.

            In this universe, an unknown power assigns one person with another and declares them soulmates. The most common pairing is between a man and a woman; however, it isn’t uncommon for there to be a same-sex bond, a bond with multiple people, or a bond that is simply platonic. Something more consistent are the Soul Identification Aids (SIAs for short). These are the aids given to each soulmate as a sort of guide on how to find the other. Not all SIAs are immediately noticeable, but they tend to be on the more obvious side. Additionally, a new SIA is given to the person when they turn ten. Typically, the old SIA will be replaced by the new SIA (since many aids are not compatible). In the event both identifications can work smoothly together, the soulmates keep all pre-existing SIAs. Everyone is given an SIA at birth as many doctors and nurses exclaim with joy when a baby is born and they are first to witness the name, phrase, etc. of a lifelong future partner. There is however a small caveat to identification aids-- if your soulmate has yet to be born, you are stuck with your initial SIA from birth until your destined person comes into the world. In which case, the younger soulmate will receive two new SIAs (if compatible) and the older soulmate will gain one new aid on the day of birth of their soulmate. Many scientific investigations have also speculated that if your soulmate is not born by the time you turn ten, you do not receive a new SIA until your soulmate enters the world.

            So, when you were born late into the night and there was no physical sign of a SIA, this didn’t worry your parents. Afterall, not all SIAs are visible, and non-visible marks tend to run in the family. Your mark would eventually show up, and even if it didn’t, there was always a new one that would come when you turn ten. Thus, when you turned ten, your parents began to worry. You had woken up excited to see in what way you were going to find your soulmate, only to see not an inkling of a sign. The rest of the day was spent with your parents testing, prodding, and scanning for any sign of a new SIA. When nothing came to a head and you began to feel low, your parents told you everything was going to be fine and that they loved you no matter what. Then, with a little hope, your mother reminded you that you were an evening baby, so perhaps the new marks wouldn’t kick in until you were officially ten.

            That night, emotionally exhausted, you’d slept like a rock. There was only one point where you were rustled awake by the feeling of falling. Like your room, everything was dark; so, when you opened your eyes and couldn’t see a thing, you reminded yourself that you were in fact not falling, but instead sleeping in your twin-sized bed. Attempting to go back to sleep, you resituated yourself and cozied up with a pillow and cuddled up to the person beside you.

            What?

            You bolted into an upright position, trying to see what was going on. Stumbling out of bed, you turned on the lamp light to see no one in your vicinity other than your mother and father on the other side of the room cuddling each other on their full bed. At your hasty and loud movements, your father raised his head to look at you.

            “What is it?” He mumbled, still half-asleep.

            Looking around again, you decided to brush off the odd event as a physical hallucination and yawned, “Nothing, just felt like I was falling.”

            He nodded his head before going back to sleep, only for you to turn off the light and do the same.

            Christmas Day came, and the holiday was slowly losing its charm the older you got. With the new information that there isn’t a Santa Claus, you’d fell into a world of horror—not at the idea that there wasn’t a large man sneaking into the apartment every year, but that your parents, without fail, have been paying for your extensive wish-list every year. That was a bandage that was ripped off the same year that it was determined you didn’t have a soulmate. You were twelve now and had come to terms with becoming unnecessarily excited with gifts you felt so-so on. So long as your parents believed you were happy with the inexpensive present, you were truly gifted with the joy of relief in knowing you’d saved them a few bucks. This, to you, was enough.

            Although this year was a little different. In recent news, your father came home a few months ago saying that his business will go bankrupt soon and so he’s looking for other jobs. With the new financial stress, you’d done everything you could to cut down on costs. Shorter showers, walking home instead of being picked up, finding little things you could do to lessen their burden. So, when this Christmas came around and your father made the announcement, you were overjoyed.

            “I have found a job!” He declared joyously.

            Not only had he found a job, but it would pay more than what he was initially doing at the auto shop. The catch however was that it was a job with the military, and he was required to go into basic training for a few weeks, away from home.

            Your mother, the strong-willed woman that she is, held down the fort as you both gave your goodbye’s as he left for training. In the weeks that he was gone, time was a little strained and schedules were jumbled. The apartment was becoming more of a mess as there was now only one parent in the house. However, you both pushed through and welcomed your father back with open arms when he was finished.

            He wasn’t stationed immediately; in fact, it wasn’t until you were 15 years old that he had gotten a call. The army had found a placement for him somewhere in Afghanistan and he was to be deployed for about nine months. This time around your mother was a bit more hesitant. Afghanistan? At his age? He was already close to the max age of deployment, and they had limitations for a reason. It took a few days, but with the hope of giving you a better means of living and perhaps putting some more money in the already lack-luster college fund, she reluctantly confided.

            Unfortunately for you, when your father was expected to be deployed it would mean he would miss your birthday—the sweet sixteen. But with promises of trinkets and memorability, you smiled with tears in your eyes and waved goodbye once more. The two of you would have a father-daughter date when he came back to make up for the lost time.

            The day had arrived, the day that you’d never forget. Your 16th birthday. There were no big parties and no equally big plans. Just you and mom having a nice at-home dinner with a small gift ceremony. In the morning you were treated to sleeping-in and then given breakfast in bed with your favorite breakfast items. A small lunch came later in the day with plenty of sweet snacks to accompany you throughout the special event. Time was spent watching movie marathons, panting nails, writing letters to your father, and a variety of other activities you enjoyed. As the memorable day came to an end it was topped off with a Skype call with your father, having him wishing you a wonderful birthday, and an even better year. You’d hadn’t even gone into the bedroom until after eight in the evening, and so you began your nightly routine. Shower, pajamas, brushed teeth, water on the bedside, along with some extra routine things you do. By the time you had gotten done with preparing for bed, your mother had already dozed off, having put on an eye mask and earbuds in to allow you ease of movement as you got ready for slumber. The day was certainly memorable.

            But it didn’t end there.

            Almost as soon as you laid your head down onto the pillow, you felt the sensation of falling. Except this time, you were awake opposed to sleeping, and your eyes hadn’t even closed yet. Light had filled your vision so fast that it was as if the sun decided to take a detour back into the sky, pushing the night away. This wasn’t the only sensory overload however, as the audio of the quaint bedroom seemed to be blasted with dozens of voices—voices that did not match the tone of your mother. Next you had realized that you were no longer laying down, but instead standing up straight with a hand tucked into your dress pant pocket.

Dress pants?

            It was then that your eyes focused, not looking at something, but more everything in hopes that some sense can be made. Your heart was beginning to beat rapidly, and your brain took laps within your skull. Confusion molded your facial features, your brain having not a clue as to what was going on, but somehow something inside of you understood. “Understood what?” is a good question, a question you were about to come to the answer of.

            “—are you okay?” Asked a voice to your left. You twisted your head to track the voice, only to see multiple mouths.

            Another person spoke, this time possessing a higher pitched tone, “Mr. Stark, do you need a glass of water?”

            ‘What?” Was the thought that passed through your mind.

            Someone tapped your shoulder, and you looked towards the direction of the touch.

            “Sir, are you alright?” A man was in your face. You looked up at him, he was only slightly taller which would make him rather short for a male. He was pudgy with brown eyes and slicked back hair that was a little longer than what would be typical for a man.

            You breathed and formulated some form of a word out of your lips, “Where . . .”

            Then you stopped without even continuing the sentence, a look of surprise cased along your features as you were startled by your own voice. Except it wasn’t your voice. This voice was a lot deeper in comparison. Had you not felt it come out of your throat, you’d have assumed someone was right next to your person and said the word instead.

            You licked your lips as a strange look passed through the features of the man in front of you as he tried to make sense of what was going on. When your tongue exited your mouth, however, you felt little hairs move on your face. Now that you think about it, your mouth doesn’t taste how it did a moment ago. It felt drier and there was a linger of something that had a potent after-taste. Something was different, a lot of things were different. As the few seconds ticked by, a dawn of realization casted across the man’s face.

            It was at this moment that you’d come to the realization that the room was a bit quieter than it was a few moments ago. You had turned your head to where the initial parade of noise was coming from only to find some faces. Correction, many faces. Each one showcasing a similar expression to the one the man beside you displayed a few moments ago. Then, as if following a script, the faces started to change into the same form of realization the man had given you.

            That’s when the room roared to life with questions ranging from “Who are you?”, “How old are you?”, “Where are you from?”, and so on. There seemed to be a never-ending assault of words pointed in your direction that came so quick you could feel the exhales of the people warm you up slightly as it touched your skin.

            Then it dawned on you, a realization that could be titled ‘Better Late Then Never.’ This situation, this body, these people, this is not your setting. Not your room, not your mom, and certainly not your body. That man beside you is not short but instead you happen to be taller. The only thing that you knew in this situation was that this is the body of your soulmate. A man, standing on a slightly elevated stage with a minimalistic microphone in front of him, addressing dozens of people in what can only be assumed to be a press conference. A man you thought didn’t exist, a soulmate you previously believed you were not destined for.

            You glanced back at the man beside you as he hastily grabbed and dragged you into a particular direction. Where you were being taken off too was unbeknownst to your knowledge as you blink and find yourself back in the apartment standing in the middle of the kitchen.

            The time could not have been more than five minutes since your initial, unexpected bodily switch, and yet your entire world has changed. Focusing your eyes again and feeling the cold vinyl below your feet, you took a shallow breath. This felt like your body. Your mouth tasted familiar, and your fingers felt leaner than the ones you had just moments before.

            Looking down at the counter you faced, a torn piece of paper and a well-used pencil was before you, as were a combination of letters and numbers that filled the off-white sheet. Gently grabbing the paper, in fear of tainting its viability, you slowly read the note as you process what it says.

            10880 Malibu Point, California, USA

            An address. Your soulmate gave his address.

            Suddenly your mind swirled with the next course of action as your heart started to speed up again in excitement. However, you stopped the trail of thought as a smile crept onto your face.

            ‘I have a soulmate,’  you’d thought in endearment.

            Had it not been for your sleeping mother you would’ve squealed. That thought was quickly swept away as worry settled in.

            You don’t have a phone book with adresses, so you’d have to go to the library and use the computers there. Additionally, you’re 16. If he has his own address and is a speaker at a conference, he’s probably an adult. The Global Soulmate Registry Association (GSRA) isn’t particularly favorable towards the joining of an adult and minor soulmate after breaching the threshold of a particular age gap. Additionally, if he had immediately left the room to look for something to write on, he probably doesn’t realize how old you are.

            ‘A letter it is then,’ you had concluded.

            A letter is the most viable step. You wouldn’t need to go to the library in that case to see how long it would take to get to his home, you’d just need to get a letter and a stamp. A letter would be able to inform him that the two of you would need to be separated for the time being until you’re a legal adult. A letter is a harmless form of communication that can keep the two of you in contact without actually seeing each other. This way, you get to know this “Mr. Stark” without breaking any rules set in by the GSRA. And to be completely honest, you were very interested in learning about this man and why his name sounded so familiar.

            The news had been on fire for at least a week. Talk was going around about the recent happenings of the “2003 Tokyo-Stark Conference” and how world-renowned Tony Stark does in fact have a soulmate. Video footage had been released of the entire ordeal staring you and your awed expression. While watching the news you couldn’t help but flush in embarrassment as your eyes darted everywhere within the video and facial features contorted constantly—most being a sign of confusion and disorientation.

            You’d yet to get ahold of the letter and stamp—still frazzled by the whole ordeal. If the press is this attentive to a single man, how would they react to the news of who you are? Nerves shook your body as doubt laid on your mind. Perhaps this letter needed to be re-thought.

            Another week went by, and you’d finally calmed down your nerves. Regardless of the repercussions, you would let your soulmate know that you got his message. A smile made its way on your face once again at the thought of having a soulmate.

            Sitting beside your mother, the two of you were chatting away with the TV on in the background. You have yet to tell her the exciting news, but tonight that was going to change. The most recent broadcasting was still on the “Soul-Stark” mystery; however, now it was highlighting the many women who have come forward claiming to be Tony Stark’s soulmate. Initially you were worried that he would believe them, and that your soulmate would be ripped away from you; but, after Tony released a press statement, your worries melted.

            “She knows how to find me. Figured she’d find me sooner, but hey, patience isn’t my strong suit,” he had stated with a sly smirk on his lips.

            That’s right, he gave his address to you. No one has his address other than the ones he trusts. No one can prove their reliability unless they possess the note that you have. That’s why a letter is perfect. It’s effective, reliable, and prevents any bundles of nerves from forming if you two were to meet in person. Because to be honest, you’re not entirely sure if you could meet him face-to-face right now. The very thought makes something in the back of your brain twitch. It wasn’t anything bad, just that this person who has all the fame and fortune anyone could want, was your soulmate. You. Acne-infested, poverty-stricken, popularity-lacking, you. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would take you at face-value, but considering your face is one big zit, that’s a hard pass. Perhaps after some time you can accept the man the universe has given to you, and you expect that time will come in about two years when the GSRA won’t breathe down your neck.

            Suddenly, your mother grasped her chest in pain.

            “Ahh!” She groaned.

            Your eyes widened in shock, unsure how she could be in pain without anything physical around her to be threatened. Swiftly you held the hand that was on her chest and put the other on her back, rubbing small circles.

            “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You asked in worry.

            She shook her head, seemingly unable to speak. This carried on for a minute or two as she caught her breath.

            Releasing some air she huffed, “I don’t know, it just felt like something stabbed my heart.”

            In that moment she looked at you in the eyes and your own widened in shock.

            “Mother!” You yelled, unintentionally recoiling from what you looked at.

            Her features molded into that of confusion as black tears rolled down her cheek. Almost simultaneously she seemed to be aware of the liquid feeling on her cheek as she went to wipe the tears away, only to see the gunk that came out of her sockets. The two of you stood still not saying a word, trying to understand what was happening.

            It was during this moment that the TV flashed blue and red as it had the words “Breaking News” on the screen. Then a woman’s face appeared as she began to give the people the latest scoop.

            Without a breath the newswoman began, “Break news: We have just received reports of an airstrike in Afghanistan. The attack, carried out by opposing forces, targeted a U.S. military base. Details are still emerging, and we will continue to monitor the situation closely. Stay tuned for further updates.”

            That’s when it occurred—the realization.

Your father is stationed in Afghanistan. Your mother is crying black tears. There was an attack on a U.S. military base. Those tears weren’t bizarre, they were signs of a soul break. Your father is dead.

Unsurprisingly, your mother derived the same conclusion but was not willing to accept it without proof. She quickly got off the couch and ran to get the home phone, dialing a number you didn’t know. The next few moments were spent with her waiting as she got past the operator who connected her call only for the other end to speak out:

“Sorry, but all available representatives are currently on the line. Please wait as—.”

She fell to her knees, no longer able to take the strain on her brain and on her heart. It was when she fell you heard a sound you’d never forget, as the most soul-sucking sob left her lips. Mothers have a tendency to take all the weight of any situation, standing strong so that their little ones have something to look up to and aspire to be. Therefore, when the very woman who has raised you with an iron fist and soft heart completely fell apart, you were confused. You were worried. You were devasted. How does one fix a hole that is too big to mend?

Taking tentative steps to the corner your sob-filled mother fell, you were about to get down with her when the TV made an announcement.

“This just in: Our latest sources have confirmed that the weaponry used in the attack on the U.S. military base in Afghanistan was manufactured by the domestic company, Stark Industries. More details to follow as we learn more,” the woman said in haste.

A far-taken picture was displayed on the screen detailing a missile on course to the base with the logo of Stark Industries plastered to the side.

The only thing close to a representation of your thoughts after the announcement was the word “numb.” Your mind drew blank as your breathing stopped. Any movement made to aid your mother was quickly drawn to a halt. A few seconds passed by as the sound of your mother’s sobs only increased with the new information—having the attack being worse coming from your own country. As for you, your mind began to piece it all together.

Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries and the mind behind the weapons, killed your father. Your soulmate killed your father. Fuck the idea of indirect actions—one man is dead because of another. The man you have loved your entire life was killed by the one you’re destined to be with for the rest of eternity.

At this revelation you have made your decision. One that you will argue was not made as an act of emotion-clouded judgment, nor a means of revenge. It is simply because of the bad taste that enters your mouth when you say his name.

And here it is, the moment that defined everything:

“I hate Tony Stark.”

So yes, even though it is a taboo perspective, your opinion remains stagnant.

To you, soulmates are only really a suggestion.

[my-status-single]

The One Where Peter Parker Has a Baby Chapter 2

He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. They won’t let him run to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. He can’t go to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s safe with Happy. He’s safe. His name is Ben. He’s four. He’s Peter’s.

She had been pregnant.  It had been early.  So early that it had been months before she even realised. Half of the universe disappeared, Peter included. And months later she had given birth to their son. Their son. Ben.

Fic Summary: Mostly canon compliant fic that centres around the relationship of Tony Stark's daughter and Peter Parker.

Fic Summary: Mostly canon compliant fic that centres around the relationship of Tony Stark's daughter and Peter Parker.

Notes: This is a Peter Parker/Reader fic. It jumps back and forth between the "present" (after the blip is reversed) and the past (pre blip reversal). The main focus is Peter and our girl Y/N, but there will be exploration into other relationships as well. These include but are not limited to Tony/Steve Peter/Harley Harley/Harry Peter/Harley/Harry Steve/Bucky Tony/Stephen.

Each chapter will have content warnings listed that are specific to the chapter just for added security, there will also be a summary of the chapter if the content is something you don't want to engage with but would like to continue to the next chapter. There will also be a comprehensive list of warnings. The severity of these topics varies from very intense to simply implied. Be sure to check the individual chapters for more detailed descriptions of how these themes are used.

Fic Content Warning: Underage sex, unplanned pregnancy, teen pregnancy, polyamoury, child abuse/neglect, parental death, suicide, self harm, Tony Stark in Endgame

Please, if there is ever something in this or any of my fics that you feel needs a content warning, feel free to message me and I will make sure to add it.

I want this to be a safe place for everyone.

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From the author: Taglist is OPEN, just leave a comment or send me a dm xxx

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Chapter Notes: First major canon divergence. Tony and Steve meet in early 2001 as Tony had taken over for Howard in SHIELD after his death. Let’s not think about it too hard. By the end of 2001 they are established in a relationship. And early 2002 they find out about the pregnancy. Reader is born in August of 2002.

It might be a bit annoying to have the reader be so flushed out as that can distract and make it harder to insert yourself into the story but…the timeline bro.

Word count: 1114

Chapter Content Warnings: Child neglect-Mentions of Howard Stark who is a bad dad. Reader's mother is very uninterested in the reader after the birth homophobia-Steve talks about being with a man in the 40s and it is lightly implied that it was not safe pregnancy-Tony gets a woman pregnant alcohol-Steve and Tony drink beer Stony-Steve and Tony are a couple

Chapter Summary: This chapter establishes the relationship between Tony and Steve and explains how the reader came to be. Reader is the product of a one night stand from Tony prior to becoming exclusive with Steve. Reader’s mother, Katherine, is a scientist working to recreate the super serum. She is described as cold and unattached.

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Chapter 1

Tony really tried to hate Steve when they first met. Truly. For reasons he found completely justified.

His dad was an ass.

And as far as he was concerned, that was Steve’s fault.

It ended up being impossible to hate him though. Because he was just so damn nice.

Which made Tony irrationally angry.

Steve wasn’t all that impressed by Tony. He hadn’t been all that impressed with Howard either though.

He didn’t really have any particularly strong thoughts or emotions about Tony.

He was mostly baffled Howard had had a kid.

He never seemed like the type.

Regardless

They both had a strange pull toward the other.

Like the other was a connection to something long past.

Steve is someone who knew Tony’s father, who he had grown up hearing about.

Tony was Howard’s son. And though he was rarely on the same page as him, he had still been a friend. And Tony was the closest thing to something from home.

They somehow ended up as something akin to friends.

Neither were great at the whole sleeping, or self care in general, thing, so there were lots of late nights, lots of long talks, lots of secrets shared. They spoke of Tony’s dating life, Steve wanted to know just how similar Tony was to his father. And during one of those talks, after some light teasing about what Steve must have gotten up to back in the day, Steve admitted that he and Bucky had been in a relationship.

Tony wasn’t exactly surprised.

“So, you’re gay then?” He asks him. They are sat on the floor of Tony’s lab, a half eaten box of pizza between them, and beers in their hands.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever really needed to label it.” Steve admits. “I just knew Bucky was my person.” He shrugs.

Tony understands this at some level. The not needing a label, not the other thing.

“You don’t have to label it.” He says, possibly trying to put Steve at ease. “I never have. I just like…the people I like.” He says. “I’ve never committed myself to someone the way you have though.

Steve nods slowly and sips his drink. “Don’t you get lonely?”

This causes Tony to pause. 

He’s never really alone. He never really allows himself to be. Like he needs a buffer between him and his head. There are plenty of people, both in and outside of his bed. He’s popular. He’s desired, wanted, sought after. He’s never lacking in people who want to give him their time.

He finishes off his drink.

“Yeah.” He says finally.

Things change between them after that night. Like there was a newfound understanding between them. Both were tired of being lonely.

It starts out as just sex. Which was new ground for Steve, and he struggled with it for a while. Until he realised that his struggles weren’t from it being casual sex, but that he was developing feelings for Tony and didn’t want it to be casual sex.

Steve had always been pretty straightforward, but he still struggled a lot with the thought of confessing. He wanted to keep Tony in his life and was worried he’d run at the mention of commitment.

But its been over a year since they met. And months since they started sleeping together.

So he just…tells him one night.

He lacked some elegance in it if he was honest with himself.

Blurting out “I want you to be my boyfriend” while you’re balls deep in someone isn’t exactly tactful.

But it worked out okay for him in the end.

The universe is a bit fucked up though.

Because just months later Tony comes to him with life altering news that neither of them had been prepared for.

And with that news Tony brought an out.

“You didn’t sign up for this.” Tony says quietly.

“No, but neither did you.” Steve responds. He’s never seen Tony so…sullen. So conflicted.

“I knew the risks of fucking someone without a condom.” Tony says bluntly. “This was always a possibility.” He lets out a breath. “I…I’m gonna step up. I’m gonna be this baby’s dad. But you don’t have to be.” He says quietly. “I’ll understand if you go.”

Steve lets out a breath and takes both of Tony’s hands. “I was in love with a man in the 40s. Tony, I gave up on the idea of having children before I was even old enough to consider them in the first place. They were never an option.” Tony goes a bit pale. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want them.” He continues. “I knew who I was getting involved with, Tony. And if having you means having this baby then I guess we’re going to be parents.”

And it’s as simple as that.

In August of that year their daughter was born.

Their daughter’s mother was someone Steve had never met, prior to going to the hospital when she went into labour. But he knew her name. He’d learned her name, read about her. Read about a lot of people like her when he had looked himself up. He learned that there were a distressing number of people trying to recreate Erskine’s original serum. This woman, Katherine, was one of them.

She was a tall, slender woman. Stereotypically beautiful but almost hollow looking. Like there was something missing inside of her.

He doesn’t remember her ever holding the baby. She hardly looked at her. Something told him she had no interest in being a mother but somehow went through with the pregnancy anyway.

But he didn’t dwell on it. He didn’t care.

Because if this precious, tiny, perfect baby girl wasn’t reason enough…the way Tony looked when he held his baby was enough to make him ignore the slight concern he felt over the way Katherine was responding to motherhood.

Tony was built to be a father.

He was so perfect with her. And Steve had never been so fond of another person.

All his outward, arrogant facade broke down the second he was with their girl. She had him wrapped around his finger.

And Steve was no better.

He knew he was in trouble the first time they’d ever made eye contact.

How could he ever say no to this tiny girl?

Katherine was clearly not interested in being a mother to her daughter. She made no fuss when Tony asked if the baby could live with him. She wasn’t breastfeeding, and the baby was clearly more attached to Tony. But despite their request, she wouldn’t sign over her parental rights. Therefore, physical custody was shared between Katherine and Tony.

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Taglist: @bitchy-bi-trash

[callmissrogers]

That's My Girl | Part 2

Summary: After the failed mission and death of the Bons, the team searches for an explanation and discovers that this is a much larger game than they first thought it to be. What will this do to y/n?

Word count: 4,919

Part 1

Warnings: Some fluffy fluff to begin with. I tried to insert some humor here and there. Annnddd some angst. Expect the next chapter to much more angsty, tho. Also, I only proofread once, and my head is like a cotton ball due to being sick, so apologies for any mistakes.

Note: Hey everyone! I'm sorry this has been delayed. I've been down and out with the flu and haven't been able to think striaght enough to write this out. But the last couple of days, albeit still being pretty down with it, I've been able to piece this together. Tell me what you think!

The sun was beginning to shine through the compound windows, casting long golden lights across the floor.

Y/n was sitting on a stoll in the kitchen, trying to take deep breaths to steady herself.

Looking down at her hands, which, thanks to her little workout, were cut up, bloody, and bruised.

Steve slowly walked back into the kitchen, holding a little white box, which y/n assumed was a first aid kit. He pulled out the stoll next to hers and eased himself down.

"Hand," He said, holding out his own. Y/n swallowed, slowly placing her hand in his.

He furrowed his brow as he examined it, "Y'know, you're supposed to wrap your hands before you do stuff like this." He said, clicking his tongue.

Y/n didn't say anything but gasped and tried to pull her hand away. Only for Steve gently tightens his grip, glancing at her with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry - I know it stings." He whispered.

Y/n nodded, still flinching some ad he dabbed away at the cuts. Then he treated them with salve and bandaged them as best he could.

Looking down at her hands, y/n sighed. "I'm sorry." She mumbled, making him pause in his efforts to tidy away the materials. "Y/n..." She knew he was about to say something along the lines of "youwereupsetanddonthavetobesorryforanythingbecauseIcareaboutyou"

"No, Steve. You. . . You were trying to be there for me, and I was a jerk. Don't excuse it just to be nice." She said, dropping her head when her voice broke.

He sighed, staring at her a moment before she felt his calloused thumb and index finger tuck under her chin, and then gently tugging to make her look at him."You know, one of the things I think I like most about you is how sensitive you are to everyones feelings." He said quietly. "But, believe me when I say, my feelings weren't hurt. Do you know how many times you've stood by and saw through me to understand why I've said or done something? I can do the same. All I cared about was that my girl was hurting." He said, leaning down to peck her on the cheek and then pulling away.

So she sat sat frozen for a second. The ach from what had happened still sat on her chest, but Steve Rogers had managed to create a warm pool in her stomach. Never failing to make her feel loved, safe, and seen whenever she was with him. How did she end up so lucky to be the girl that caught his eye?

Suddenly, it occurred to her that he was cooking behind her. Twisting around, she asked, "What are you doing?" "You haven't eaten anything in ages." He replied, tossing some bacon into a hot pan and cracking eggs into a glass bowl. It felt good to just allow herself to be taken care of now.

By the time he finished, they had eggs, bacon, sourdough toast smuttered in butter and applebutter, with tall glasses of orange juice and coffee.

For the time being, she allowed herself to be distracted, pushing the heavy dark feeling to the back of her mind.

He sat with her and made her laugh with some stories he hadn't yet told her about some mischief Bucky had gotten him into in high school. Obviously, it was never his fault.

They had just finished eating when Nat walked into the room. Fixing herself a large mug of coffee, she said, "Steve, when you're done here, I need to talk to you." Natasha had a determined look in her eye that told Steve she had found something. "I'll be right there." He replied.

"We need to talk," Nat said, yanking Steve by the arm and into her office. "What is it?" He was used to Natasha's unorthodox methods, so he really wasn't too taken aback by this.

"I was looking into things like you asked. We already know the reason the doctor was taken - Hydra wanted him for his skillset. However, we still don't know what they want to use that skill set for. They have to have the formula and whatever else they need. Otherwise, he wouldn't be dead." She muttered along.

She never realized just how fast she spoke when talking about mission work. It was a brain workout to keep up with her.

"We better off finding out who exactly is in charge of this operation as that will give us an idea of their game plan. "So I reviewed things like call logs, internet searches, and swips on metro cards, three days before the kidnapping." "I'm going to take a guess and say you didn't actually get any legal permission to do any of this?" "Do you really wanna know? I don't really wanna think about the fact that you're breaking the law just to do some -" "Then I won't tell you how I got my information. " She interrupted before bringing up a few files on the TV screen mounted to her wall. She used this like a murder board in crime shows.

"All of the information proved helpful. . . Y/n really shouldn't feel bad - this Doctor's soul was pitch black. " "Nat" "Apologies, almost forgot I was talking to golden boy. Anyway, some of the most relevant information now is the call logs."

"Why?" "Well, Steve. . . ." She said hesitating as he sat down on her desk with a sigh. "The caller tried to mask where the signals came from. They did a decent job of it too, not good enough to trick my guy, but good." "Nat, stop avoiding the point and just tell me," Steve knew full well that Natasha's method of distracting someone from something was to confuse them with irrelevant facts.

She sighed and then clicked something on her keyboard, which brought up a map, a map of their city. . . It was focusing on the compound. Steve's jaw tightened, and his hands clinged into fists.

"Nat..." "The calls to the Doctor originated here, Steve. We have a mole."

He saw red. It took everything in him to keep himself from punching out the monitor.

"Steve. Steve!" Natasha said, bringing him back to reality. "Who?" He spat, turning back to face her. Steve could turn into cold stone when he got angry. A force to be reckoned with that none of the other Avengers wanted to mess with. But Natasha knew enough to know that he wasn't angry with her. 

So with a deep breath and her most reassuring look she could muster, she said, "we don't know that yet. The fact that they haven't raised any red flags until now tells me they're pretty good at covering their tracks." "Well I won't just stand by idle while they have a free ride to do as they please." Steve said, strutting towards the door.

"You won't have to. Now that we know that they're here. They won't be able to hide." Natasha said all playfulness gone, her tone the sort that would make anyone's blood run cold.

"Call a meeting," He ordered. "I already did." She said, grabbing her tablet and exciting the office before he did. "I just figured I should clue you in first." She finished heading to the counsel room. That would mean he wouldn't have time to give y/n a heads up and that she'd hear it at the same time as everyone else. Knowing just how hard the last day or so had been for her, he wished he could somehow make things easier for her. 

In the counsel room, the others were already deep in conversation. Debating how to go about rooting out the Mole.

"I say, we start tapping phone calls. Put something on their Starkcell that will give us what we need." Tony said, spinning his pen on the table. "You can't do that, and you know why." Sam protested, leaning back in his chair. "They're technically my phones." "Which you technically gave to them, so it's literally still against the law to riffle through their private information." Sam answered angrily.

"What about undercover work? Send someone in to kinda get a feel for things?" Wanda asked. "Send them in where? We have like a million departments." Bucky retorted.

"Ok!" Steve said singally for them to be silent. "We need a course of action. A legal course of action. " He finished as he took a seat. "Natasha. "

"Ok. The way to run out a mole is to make them think they're ahead of the game. Let them believe they're in control of the situation." She said, leaning back and propping her feet up on the table.

"Last time I checked, they are in control. Since, again, we have no idea who they are." Bucky retorted before smacking her foot to make her move.

"Yeah, sure, we don't have names. Yet. But may I remind you we're the same people that stopped a literal alien invasion. I think we can manage a spy ring or whatever this may be. We know they're here, and we're going to make their lives a living hell when we find them."  Nat said, ignoring him.

Steve kept glancing at y/n. Who was sitting hunched over in her chair, hands clasped together, the same expressionless face she puts on any time she really wants to pretend to be fine.

"How is this any different from what I suggested? The way I see it is the only way to their life a living hell is to make everyone's life a living hell." Tony snarked, taking a bite out of an apple. Why did he always have to eat during important meetings?

"Tony." Steve warned, setting his jaw. Normally, Tony would continue to push the issue and see just how far he could push the Star Spangled Man (as he liked to call him), but given the situation, he backed down.

"Now. . . Before they just sorta came out of the woodwork when they wanted to get rid of me," Steve said, taking on his leadership voice. "What we gotta do is work backward. Our starting point is-" He glanced at y/n again before continuing, wishing she hadn't come to the meeting or that he could somehow leave the failed mission out of this, but he pressed on despite his feelings. "Our starting point is the doctor. Go back six months if you have to. Go over his coworkers, legally go over his finances and see if we can't trace anything back. They aren't stupid enough to leave such a glaring trail, so look for the less obvious stuff. See if he's gone on vacation. Possible visitors to his residence. I think they'd probably have someone do all of the in person stuff for them. Being seen could jeopardize their cover here. Check anything and everything you can think of. Call a meeting as soon as anything sticks out." He finished closing his tablet.

Everyone looked around and then pushed themselves back from the table, beginning to file out.

Steve just stood back watching them, y/n stopped in the doorway to give him a small smile of reassurance. Reassurance that she was ok with this.

He knew he couldn't just follow her around and make everything ok. They were both Avengers. She knew what she signed up for when she joined this team, and he wouldn't treat her like a child that needs constant supervision.

He gathered his things and headed into his office. Pulling up the file on the Doctor. This man had been in bad dealings his entire career. Before he figured out this "Foutain of Youth" as they called it, he worked for the mafia. Changing faces so they could leave the country unseen and avoid jail time. He had leaved in nearly every state at one point or another before finally settling in Hawaii two years ago. Steve knew that this all started six months ago with the creation of the serum... What made him decide to attempt this? Was it his own humanity wanting to cling onto life as long as possible, or was he put up to it?

He had to spread the word of it via the black market?

Hydra probably had buyers on the market to alert them of things like this... maybe they could somehow track that to their mole?

By the time Steve looked at the time, his vision blurry from staring at his screen for too long, he realized that nearly six hours had passed. Cracking his knuckles, he pushed himself away from the desk. He'd allow himself to check on y/n just to see how she was doing in her own research.  Her office was at the end of the hallway, ramping on the door with his knuckles and he heard a small "in" before he pushed the door open.

She had documents splayed across her desk, a digital board with information crowding it, and a whiteboard filled with her own notes.

"Did you find anything?" She asked, drinking from what had to have been her fifth or sixth mug of coffee. "We already knew he worked for the mafia in his younger days... But what we didn't find in our cursory research on him before the mission was that he didn't only work sell on the black market. He ran an entire business on it." Steve answered, leaning against her doorframe. Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, "How did we miss that? We should have known that before the mission."

She responded, her voice frustrated and tired. "It's not like we had a lot of time before the drop. We got the most important information and didn't waste time before the attempted rescue. " He said, bitting his lip and instantly regretting the fact that he said "attempted".

Y/n dropped her head and stared down at her mug, "Yeah. I guess we could have gotten this information easier if we had them here to interrogate." "Y/n... I didn't mean -" "I found some information too," She said, deliberately cutting him off. "His wife would disappear every Monday and Friday. Over night. She'd go to an airport in the morning, fly out to LA, and be back by the next day."Where was she going?" "I don't know. She was picked by an SUV, and the plates were fake government plates that can't be tracked. But I know it has to be related." She said, pulling her hair into a frizzy messy bun. This was all beginning to sound much more organized than it had seemed in the beginning. Just what had they walked into?

"What do you know about the wife?" Steve asked, realizing that he knew little about her. Perhaps they had been foolish to assume that he was the only one involved here.

"So far, all I know is that her family had lots of secret political ties. Making backroom deals to get votes or lobbying for things that would benefit companies they had controlling stocks in. I'm going to dig into her personal life some more. Just give me time."I thought we were just going back six months." Steve commented, looking at the years posted on the board. "I think we need a total background to make any of this make sense." She replied, sitting back down to work. "Why don't we eat something and then get back to work?" Steve suggested. "I ate a protein bar, thanks." She answered dismissively.

Steve could see it in her eyes. She wasn't the cheerful and somewhat corky girl he loved to sing to the oldies with at the moment. She was slipping into the darkness with this and didn't want him by her side.

So he quietly slipped out of her office and made for the kitchen. He had to eat something before going back to the harsh glare of his screen. Why couldn't they do things like they did in his day? Radios, typewriters, maps, and chalkboards rarely gave people headaches.

In the kitchen, he found Bucky chowing down on what looked like canned spaghetti. That was one thing that never changed about his old friend. He was a terrible cook.

Bucky stopped, his fork halfway to his mouth, and looked at him, "What?" Steve didn't know why, but the expression and his ruffled appearance made him laugh. "Did you come down here just to laugh at me, or are you here for a reason?" Buck asked, giving his usual cocky grin. "I came down for food. Laughing at you is just a bonus." Steve replied, heading over to the fridge to grab the fixings for a sub sandwhich.

A moment later, he was settling in across from Bucky, sliding his friend a beer.

"I hate computers." Steve grunted. "I think the issue is that computers know that we're actually dinosaurs, and they hate us."  Bucky scoffed jokingly.

After a moment of comfortable silence only broken by the sounds of them chewing and drinking, Steve asked, "Have you found anything?" "Well, my Forte isn't looking at papers and reports. You know this." "Is it because you can't read?" Steve asked with a smile. Buck looked at him, mouth agap and then said, "May I remind you what you thought fondue was?"

Bucky was seriously the only person on earth with whom Steve could make light of a serious situation. It helped with the stress and surprisingly made tough situations easier.

"*anways* I decided instead to review surveillance tapes. Before we only looked at the ones the day of at his office. I checked everything I could check. Home security footage, his office, found out his wife has an office down town don't know what for tho... A lot of it was just rich dolls coming in to make themselves look plumper." Bucky said allowing himself to become his old self again. "And?" Steve asked seriously hopping that six hours of Bucky's research hadn't resulted in how many women got "work" done. "And. I made note of repeated visitors. " "I may be a dinosaur but I do know that people get more than one thing done at these places. How do you know they weren't just coming in for different procedures?" "Because I couldn't tell that they were actually getting work done. Sure they'd come in with a different hairstyle or something else to make them look different but they were the same people. Lawyer types." "Suspicious but they could have been lawyers for former unhappy clients." "Then why did they repeated show up at his wife's office too?" "They did?" "And their home. Tho they only did that in the last three weeks before they vanished, and they'd only leave things in the backyard." "They didn't know the Bons had a camera back there?" "Oh the Bons didn't." "Then how -?" "Oh... Their neighbors might have a camera that might have been able to catch a few glimpses of them."That's not legal -" "technically. Going through the Von's cameras wasn't either, but I don't see you complaining about that." "We need to have a talk about ethics." "Fine. Fine. I guess you didn't want to know that I gave the footage to Natasha and that she's running it as we speak. "  Steve sat back in his chair. This could be the break they needed, but he hated it when they allowed the line to become blury just to justify a means to an end.

Back in her office, y/n's head began to hurt with the familiar ach she got when she worked for too long. A five minute break. Just to make the rounds and find out what some of the others knew, then it would be back to work for the rest of the night.

Tony walked out of his office just as she did. "Y/n you look a little worse for wear." He commented in his usual slightly oblivious fashion. "Thanks... I guess. What have you found?" "Well. I found out our mister Von's business is on the dark web. We figured that. But he's not alone in this business. He had partners." "Partners?" "Yep. Which could mean that they're in the same spot he was in and might be next on the Hydra kidnap list. Or will simply be working with em'. Don't know that yet. Heck, I don't know what they are yet. My big wigs don't get that far into things... But I'm gonna keep digging. Right now a cold shower and a red bull are call my name." He said swaggering down the hall. How that man could be so chill about everything was beyond her.

As more information piled in, this was becoming a very tangled spider's web. Wanda had found out that Mrs Von had traveled to Russa three times in the last six months. Doctor Bon had gone to China twice. Again, privately owned companies that kept everything low-key. They only found out because, unfortunately, you couldn't keep a passport check secret due to 9/11. Someone was pulling a lot of strings to keep this all a secret. Which told them that there was a bigger end game involved.

A few hours later.

Everyone was tired.

Due to the nature of discovering the Mole is meant that they had to keep this low key. They couldn't just pass out the information and put all of their agents at SHEILD to work.

But there were some things that they couldn't do themselves without rasing suspicion.

"Friday," Steve said, he was hunched over, face resting in his hands in the counsel room. "Privatly request that agent Shannon Charter come up here please." He mumbled, fumbled for the handle of his 12th coffee cup. He didn't know why he was drinking it. Coffee had little to no affect on him. The others who had slowly found their way in here for the update meeting, were practically already asleep.

Nearly ten minutes later, Agent Charter stepped into the room. "Friday said you wanted me, Sir?" She asked. "Yes. Please sit down" He instructed.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, seeming puzzled by the fact that she was addressing all of the Avengers.

"Depends on how you look at it." Sam commented. He was the only one of them that wasn't half dead at the moment. He flourished in situations where most would be dead from exhaustion. And he wasn't even a super soldier.

Seeing as he was the one who was most with it at the present moment, he took lead on this meeting.

"Agent Charter, we have a situation." He said standing up and coming round the table to stand by the large monitor. "What sort of situation?" She asked. "There seems to be a mole here at shield." "A mole? How is that even possible? We have one of the highest security systems in the entire world." "We're not sure about the how yet. All we know is that there is. We don't want the good guys here to worry, we also don't want y'all to be completely in the dark. But at the moment, choosing who to entrust with this information is difficult. So it's boiled down to you and Colson. Obviously he's not here, so you'll be handling a sorta undercover investigation here within the ranks. We know it's a lot to ask." "No, no. To serve and protect is what I signed up for when I joined up. That applies to the organization that I serve." She said, her eyes quickly darting to Steve and then back. Most likely didn't even notice it.

Everyone had suspected that Shannon and Steve would end up together. Afterall, she was the great niece of the woman he was in love with back in the 40s. They all figured they'd just fall in sync with each other. But it turns out that having things in common, worked more to sway the Captain's heart far more than being related to Peggy.

Wanda, who was friends with Shannon, seemed to believe that the lady was fine with the fact that Golden Boy hadn't fallen for her. Sam and Bucky weren't so certain. Claiming that it was impossible for someone who had the "hots" for Steve Rogers to get over it so easily.

"Alright. Here is your file containing what we know so far. Read it and commit it to memory. We want a daily appraisal of anything you find. You will give these appraisals in person just to be safe." "Will do." She answered, grabbing the file and then excusing herself.

There would be no sleeping for the team tonight. At least no proper sleep. They all found themselves dozing at their desks or chosen perches for their work at one point or another. All of the rearsearch began melding together as they shared it onto their private starkspace (they had given up trying to make Tony not name all of his tech after himself a long time ago. Humble would never be one of his attributes.)

Finally, at 3:30 in the morning, Natasha came storming into Steve's office, making him jump. "With all of your abilities, how is it possible to startle you?" She asked striaghtfaced. "I'm imagining since you're being sarcastic you've found something?" Steve asked, stretching his back. "I did. Buck's videos paid off. I only got partial faces, which is why it took so long, but I was able to figure out who they are." She said, casting her tablet's screen onto his monitors. "They're a group out of Russia. They're for hire for the right people. Not you're typical hitmen. These people are total blackops. Just the sort you'd want if you're trying to keep your name out of things." "If they're so good, how'd you even find them?" "Rogers you should know by now that not all of my friends are nessiarly good people." "Right. Well. Go on." "I was only able to track them to their last known hideout, which is an abandoned school about four hours from here by jet. It's a long shot. We may or may not get anything out of these guys. But one thing is for sure, they're prepared. We're walking into one hell of a fight."

"Nat. Tell the team to assemble." Steve ordered, standing up and leaving his office before she had a chance to answer him.

Seeing the state y/n had fallen into earlier concerned him. The only time she had left her office was for the end of day meeting. Eyes glazed over and an expression that told him she was present in body only, her mind gone somewhere else.

Checking with Friday the few times he did (doing do at all made him feel terrible. Was he spying? Didn't he trust her? But his concern for her pushed such thoughts aside. Besides, he only checked once or twice) told him that she had only repeatedly refilled her coffee mug, refusing Friday's requests that she hydrate and only consuming protein bars.

Wanda had popped in to tell him that Y/n had also refused to eat dinner. Wanda had such a motherly nature even tho she was younger than everyone else here.

All of this told him that their little moment this morning or yesterday morning rather, was really just the calm before the storm.

This rabbit hole was consuming her. He had been told when she joined the Avengers that due to her powers, she had heightened emotions and felt things on a level that was different from your average person.

However, in his mind, it hadn't been an issue before (of anything it made her more endearing). Not until this short little rescue mission blew up into a James Bond level spy thriller. Now, as he made a very slow walk to her office, he had a hole burning in his stomach.

He had been mulling this over since he saw her in her office this morning and became certain it was the right thing to do during the meeting.

He'd have to act as Captain America and not as Steve Rogers.

Knocking on the door, all he got was a grunt, which he supposed meant "come in," so he went in. She sat in the middle of the floor, completely surrounded on all sides by papers.

It was like a fairy ring but with research papers instead of mushrooms.

Her laptop was in her lap, tablet laying next to her, and another smaller white board sat in front of her. He knew her method was to write everything out so she could "see her thoughts," but this seemed extreme. 

How could she be in so deep after such a short amount of time?

"Y/n? We need to talk. Nat found something." "What?" She asked, not looking up from her own work. "A location. Seems that some Russian agents for hire were some sort of go-between or something. We're not really sure what their involvement is yet." "Where are they?" She gasped, standing up and dropping her laptop in the process.

This frantic behavior only cemented in Steve's mind that he was right in doing what he was about to do. She was in a very bad headspace at the moment.

"I can't tell you that." He said, dropping her gaze for a moment. " "What? Why can't you tell me?" She asked genuinely, confused. Steve sighed and then looked her in the eye, trying to convey his reasoning before answering. "Because you're not coming."

((Feel free to request to be tagged for future updates to the story))

Tags: @nekoannie-chan

[charlotte1253]

Christmas: With The Avengers!

MasterList

- For Christmas I think Tony would decorate and throw a Christmas party for all the avengers and his friends, he gets help from Pepper.

- For Christmas I think Natasha would give to some charities. Probably ones for children or woman.

- For Christmas I think Steve would bring old Christmas traditions. Probably does traditions from the 1900s.

- For Christmas I think Thor would tell old Christmas stories that he was told when he was younger. Or he would tell old Christmas theories.

- For Christmas I think Bruce would want to spend it alone but would go for Christmas dinner and give out presents with the others.

- For Christmas I think Clint would celebrate with his family and the avengers, I think he wouldn’t like Christmas that much but act like he does for everyone else.

[multi-fandoms-posts]

I love this song😍❤️

Tiktok: charles.xavier_logan

[harryxmarvel]

Harryxmarvel's

MASTERLIST

Sebastian stan /

Bucky barnes

Harry styles

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Last updated ~ April 25

[girlygguk]

CRAZY | JJK (Part 1)

summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst

genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship

word count 15.5k

content jk 29 | yn 26, very jealous controlling and possessive jk, same for oc, spirited & bratty oc, jk is rich and spoils his girl, pet names, toxic relo, jk is a red flag, oc is a red flag, they’re obsessed w each other, bonnie n clyde ride or die type shit, soft yandere, drama, mc arguments, cursing, they get angry quick and over it quicker, bar fighting, jk punches a guy.. or two, blood, oc is roughly grabbed on arm by a male w/o consent, canon couple

warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system, daddy kink, consensual degradation, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), dirty talk, breeding kink, condomless p in v sex, oc has a birth control implant, multiple orgasms, creampie, kinda rough(?) sex but i think it ends quite softly, theyre dirty and in love!

a/n pls read all the warnings first & only proceed if ur comfortable!! these two are superr obsessively codependent and possessive so tread lightly baby 🙂‍↕️!! im kinda self conscious abt the smut but i like the fic part and i hope u do too <<3 lemme know if i missed any tags 🖤 mwah

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There was something dangerous about him. Something you couldn’t help but be drawn to, no matter how much you knew you shouldn’t. It was like playing with fire—intoxicating, thrilling… stupid.

You knew it complicated things, maybe even made life harder, but you never had been one to back down from a challenge. And when someone like Jeon Jungkook—the kind of man who looked like pure trouble but made you feel more alive than you ever had—walked into your life, resisting him was never even an option.

It hadn’t always been like this. You used to date Park Hyungwon, after all.

Hyungwon was perfectly fine. Kind, sweet, thoughtful in all the ways that made him a good guy. The type who held open doors and asked if you wanted to split dessert. You’d met him through his cousin, Jimin—your colleague and an absolute angel on Earth. In fact, you ended up closer to Jimin than you ever were with Hyungwon.

Because Hyungwon? He was just… ordinary.

There was nothing wrong with ordinary. Some people needed that. They craved stability, predictability. But you? You realized a long time ago that you needed more. You craved intensity. You needed to feel like someone’s whole world. And when your boyfriend didn’t care who you were with, what you were doing, when he didn’t even notice if you went days without texting… well, you started to feel invisible.

You knew it sounded twisted. That most people would see Hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. Healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. But that’s when you realized... you weren’t like most people.

And then he entered the picture.

Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Jeon Corp, son of the late Jeon Jun-seo.

You’d been at Jeon Corp for three years now, starting as a temp and moving into a more permanent role. Everyone knew him—the young, ruthless leader who took over seamlessly and ran things with an iron grip after his father's passing. People admired him, respected him. Feared him.

It had been two years since you made it official with the man you knew was the epic love of your life. Before that, you were friends with benefits for—what, a week? Maybe less. You both knew right from the start that there was no going back to being just colleagues or fuck-buddies. He consumed you, and you reveled in every second of it.

In the early days of your relationship, you couldn’t help but worry. Maybe your promotion had less to do with your work ethic and more to do with Jungkook lusting for you. It was hard not to question it, especially when he was your boss, and you knew exactly how intense his desire for you was. But Jungkook shut that shit down fast.

He had hundreds of employees under him, most of whom he hadn’t even had a proper conversation with. He’d approached you solely because of your performance—your results catching his attention long before he even knew what you looked like. Jimin had confirmed it.

Still, you loved teasing him about it—how he’d basically been eye-fucking you the entire time during your first real meeting. Jungkook never denied it. He would just give you that cheeky, devilish grin of his, reminding you just how that meeting had concluded—with you, bent right over his desk.

Now, sitting at Lumi’s bar with the soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses fading into background noise, your phone buzzed with a new message. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, heat spreading through your veins as you read his words.

My Love 10:43 PM Why is your location off? Sent with Siri

10:43 PM Turn it on. Now. Sent with Siri

You bit your lip, already imagining the storm brewing inside him. He was driving, and now probably wasn’t the best time to mess with him. But you were still pissed. And the brat in you couldn’t resist poking him just a little more.

You 10:47 PM i'm out, my love.

His reply was immediate, almost before you even hit send.

My Love 10:47 PM Not in the mood baby. Turn it on

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you took another sip of your drink. You could picture him now, pulling the car over, typing furiously with that adorable, frustrated frown. Oh, he was pissed—but that only made it more fun. You let him stew for a few minutes longer.

You 10:52 PM bad day at work? :(

His next texts came in a flurry, and you could almost feel the heat in them.

My Love 10:52 PM Why the fuck are you taking so long to respond? Who are you with?

10:53 PM You didnt tell me you were going out tonight and I just went all the way to your fucking house to find out you’re not even there? And your car’s gone? You drove to go out??? Are you fucking crazy?

His jealousy stoked a fire inside you. You knew better than to test his patience... but you just couldn’t help yourself.

You pulled up your camera and hit record. It started with your legs—crossed elegantly on the stool, the hem of your little black dress riding up just enough to tease. You let your foot swing, the glossy polish on your toes catching the dim light. The clip was short, but you knew Jungkook would recognize the bar in an instant.

Then, you flipped the camera. Your face came into view, framed by a pout and the neckline of your dress—the replacement for the one he’d ripped clean off you the last time some idiot tried to touch you. Jungkook had beaten the guy to a pulp, of course, which was why you were both banned from JaeJae's nightclub downtown. But you hadn’t cared then, and you certainly didn’t now.

Just before you stopped recording, you made sure the camera caught a glimpse of the arm next to you—the arm belonging to the guy who had been sulking since you brushed off his lame advances. You had been ignoring him ever since you walked in, but apparently, he was as clueless as he was underwhelming.

You hadn’t expected to be at this bar alone. In fact, you were supposed to be home with Jungkook tonight. He’d promised an early finish—four o’clock, to be exact—and you’d planned a cute pamper night for the two of you. Face masks, cheesy rom-coms. You even baked cookies.

But then, three o’clock rolled around, and your phone rang. His voice on the other end was apologetic, practically rehearsed at this point. He had to stay late. Again. Not even just a little late—ten-fucking-thirty late. Two hours past his usual finishing time.

You were livid. He promised you tonight.

You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence before hanging up, ignoring the rapid flood of missed calls and texts as you angrily dumped the chocolate chip cookies in the trash.

You were so pissed you might’ve even made his assistant, Hoseok, cry when Jungkook sent him over to check on you. Poor guy. You’d apologize later. Maybe.

By the time 10:32 hit and your phone was still silent, that pit of anger in your stomach twisted into something much sharper. You pulled up the security cameras at his office—and, of course, the room was empty. His briefcase, his keys… all gone.

He had left work without even telling you.

He always texted you when he was leaving the office. You knew there wasn’t a chance in hell it was infidelity; that wasn’t even a possibility. Cheating wasn’t something either of you entertained. But the silence? The lack of communication? That cut.

Sure, you’d been ignoring his calls ever since he canceled on you… but you were allowed to be pissed right now. He? Was not.

When your doorbell camera alert went off at 10:42, right before you were about to check his location, you felt a mix of relief and annoyance rise in your chest. You pulled up the feed to see him standing there—frustrated, fist clenched around his phone, clearly ready for a confrontation.

But you weren’t home.

You were here, at this grimy, sticky bar. Waiting.

The guy next to you shifted in his seat again, breaking you out of your thoughts. He was still there, lingering, despite your obvious disinterest. But honestly, you were kind of glad he hadn’t left.

Because the response you got from Jungkook when you hit send on that video?

Absolutely fucking perfect.

My Love 10:55 PM I'll be there in five minutes.

10:56 PM And if there is anyone sitting next to you who doesn't have a cunt or the name Park Jimin, theyre fucking dead Y/N

10:56 PM And you’re fucking walking home

You suppressed a laugh as you wiped the sugary remnants of your drink from your lips, knowing better than anyone just how serious he was.

As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way Jungkook loved you. His possessiveness didn’t bother you. In fact, it drove you wild. That definitely made you as much of a red flag as him. But did you care?

A few minutes passed as you took some selfies and uploaded them to your Instagram story, twirling the straw in your glass absentmindedly. Then you remembered the idiot next to you.

"Oh," you said, clearing your throat. He perked up immediately, pulling his beer away from his lips as he turned toward you, eyes lighting up in anticipation. Gross. "You might want to leave."

His smile faltered, confusion knitting his brow. "What?"

You blinked, tilting your head slightly as if he hadn’t just heard you. Leaning in closer, you repeated yourself. "I said, you might want to leave."

He chuckled, leaning in way too close, his breath hot and stale. “Why would I do that? Sitting next to a pretty thing like you? You look a little bored, baby… I can keep you entertained.”

You suppressed a gag. "Hard pass." You shuddered, pulling back. “But really, my boyfriend’s on his way, and he’s pissed. You might want to move down a seat or two.”

He just laughed, lifting his beer again and taking a long gulp, his eyes creepily never leaving yours. "I can handle myself just fine, sweetheart. It’s hot that you’re worried about me, though."

God. You’d never been drier in your entire life.

"Your funeral," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your phone.

A few more minutes passed in silence, and just when you thought the idiot might’ve finally left you alone, you felt him shift again, turning toward you like he was about to start up another conversation. You sighed, not actually wanting to watch another guy get the shit beaten out of him. So, you grabbed your purse and your half-empty glass, ready to leave.

But just as you slid off the stool, his hand wrapped around your arm.

"Where are you going, baby?” His voice dripped with sleaze. “This playing hard-to-get thing was sexy at first, but now it’s getting kinda boring.”

Your stomach turned, and you yanked your arm from his grip, disgust curling your lip. "Eugh, could you be any more of a stereotypical douche? Get a fucking life."

You took a step to leave, but his hand clamped down on your arm again, harder this time.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, huh?” His voice dropped, and a sickening grin spread across his face as his fingers dug deeper into your skin. “That’s okay. I like ’em that way.”

Rage flared in your chest, hot and immediate. Without thinking, your hand swung forward, and the rest of your drink splashed across his smug face. His eyes widened in shock, the liquid dripping off his chin, but you weren’t finished.

Your free hand darted into the outer pocket of your purse, fingers wrapping around the pink pepper spray canister Jungkook bought for you. You whipped it out, aiming the nozzle directly at his face and pressed down hard.

“Fuck!” he screamed, stumbling back, hands flying to his eyes. But you didn’t let up. The adrenaline thrummed in your veins as you kept spraying, ignoring the yelps and curses spilling from his lips as he clawed at his burning face.

“You crazy fucking bitch! Stop!”

“God, you piece of shit!” you yelled, uncaring of the stares now fixed on you. “Don’t ever touch anyone when they don’t want you to! Fucking pig!”

The can felt significantly lighter by the time you finally stopped, and the guy was practically on his knees, whimpering. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the bartender waving security in your direction and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Typical. He’d been close enough to hear everything, but now he wanted to intervene?

“Cunt,” you muttered under your breath, slamming your empty glass on the bar before turning to leave.

“I’m going, I’m going,” you scoffed as the guard approached, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and smoothing down the hem of your dress. As you turned to walk away, you pulled out your phone, thumb hovering over Jungkook’s contact.

But before you could make it far, a heavy hand pressed into your back, shoving you toward the exit.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you snapped, stumbling as the security guard forced you forward. “I said I’m leaving. I’m just calling my boyfriend. Let go of me, freak—”

“Ma’am, don’t speak to me like that,” the guard growled, his voice deep and commanding. “Get outside, now.”

“I'm going, you big loof. Can you at least let me wait in the bathroom? If my boyfriend sees me standing outside alone, he’s gonna—”

"I don’t care what he’s gonna do to you, ma’am. Keep moving."

You almost laughed. "Do to me?" You were about to tell him how wrong he had it—that he should be the one worried—when suddenly, the hand on your back vanished. You stopped, brushing yourself off, ready to turn and gloat.

But it wasn’t your words that made him let go. It was Jungkook.

Your very angry boyfriend had shoved the guard—who was easily twice his size—backwards so hard the guy stumbled, nearly falling over.

Jungkook’s eyes were wild, flicking between you and the security guard, a dangerous mix of concern and pure rage.

"Oh, hi, baby—"

“Get in the car,” he growled, his voice low and deadly as he handed you his keys. “And lock the fucking doors. Now.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you bit back the urge to argue. Instead, you took the keys and turned toward the door, but the security guard wasn’t backing down.

"You and your bitch need to leave now," the guard snapped. "You’re banned from this bar."

Another one? You almost pouted, but he kept going.

"We have you on CCTV. If the victim presses charges, you’ll be contacted."

“What victim?” You laughed, taking a step toward the guy. “You’re gonna let that pig press charges?”

Jungkook’s head snapped toward you, jaw clenched, staying firmly between you and the goon. “What is he talking about? Who’s pressing charges?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you gestured toward the guy still rubbing his eyes with a bar towel, water dripping down his face. “That idiot. But it’s fine, baby. I finally got to use the pepper spray you gave me,” you added, poking Jungkook’s stomach with a giddy smile.

His lips twitched, but his expression stayed serious. “Why’d you have to use it?”

You shrugged, tilting your head, giving him that innocent look you knew drove him crazy. "He kept trying to touch me, but don’t worry, I handled it. Let’s go now, please."

But Jungkook’s gaze was already darkening, his eyes now fixed on the pathetic excuse of a man across the room. You could see the anger rising, feel the tension radiating off him, and you knew he was seconds away from losing his shit.

“Let’s just go, love,” you urged, voice rushing as you eyed the situation. “It’s over now.”

The security guard had disappeared to fetch backup, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. The fact that he needed help dealing with Jungkook was almost laughable. Your man might not have been the biggest guy in the room, but you knew that shove must have rattled him, seeing as though the sidekick he'd now acquired was even bigger than he was.

And they were both stomping toward you.

You turned to warn Jungkook, “Baby—” but as your eyes shifted back to him, he was no longer at your side.

Your gaze snapped to the bar. There he was—storming up to the sleazebag still nursing his wet eyes with a towel, completely unaware that your furious boyfriend was closing in behind him. Ugh, he was like an angry, sexy bunny.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, pushing past a couple of people and hurrying over as quick as you could in your three-thousand-dollar stilettos.

As turned on as you were by the sight of him right now, you really didn’t need him missing work tomorrow because he'd been locked up for the night.

And then you, of course, also missing work because you had to sleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to his cell, since the officers wouldn’t accept bail again until he had completed his twelve-hour minimum hold.

You were almost there when you saw it—Jungkook’s hand gripping the back of the guy’s collar, yanking him back with so much force that the idiot’s eyes flew open in shock, panic flooding his face as he realized what was happening.

You bit your lip, trying to shove away the image that popped into your head of Jungkook’s hand tangled in your hair, pulling you up in that exact same way when he had you beneath him, forcing your eyes on his as he drove into you from behind.

God, not now, Y/N.

“Koo, baby, wait—” you called, but it was too late. He was gone.

Before the guy could even think about pushing Jungkook off, your boyfriend slammed his head down onto the bar with a sickening crack that echoed through the room. You winced, feeling the pain in your own skull just by watching it.

“Fuckkkk,” you hissed, finally reaching him and grabbing his arm. His muscles were rigid, vibrating with barely controlled rage. “Baby, come on. Security is coming—let’s go—”

But your words didn’t register. Jungkook was in another world, eyes burning with an almost feral intensity as he jerked the guy back up.

Without hesitation, he reeled back and delivered a brutal punch to the guy’s face, the thud of knuckles against bone filled the space as the man’s head snapped to the side, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

You sucked your teeth in frustration. You couldn’t care less if the guy sat there on the ground and bled out, truly. What you did care about was the thought of Jimin covering your shift tomorrow because you had to spend the night bailing Jungkook out of jail again.

“Okay, my love, that’s good. Now let’s go—”

“Baby, go and—” Jungkook growled, his voice dangerous and low, as he lifted the guy again. His fist swung forward, colliding with the man’s nose, and you winced at the sharp crunch that followed. The guy collapsed again, shaky hands cradling his face as blood spurted from his mouth.

Jungkook’s head whipped around, his dark gaze locking onto you with a ferocity that sent a chill down your spine. “Go and get in the fucking car,” he snapped.

“No, you fucking idiot, come with me—”

Before you could finish your sentence, your feet were suddenly off the ground, the world spinning as you were slung over a massive shoulder. It took you a second to process what the fuck was happening.

"What the fuck!" you screamed, pounding your fists against the back of the goliath security guard who was carrying you like a sack of potatoes. Your purse fell to the ground as the guy just kept walking toward the exit like you were nothing. "Put me down, you fucking freak!"

Through your distorted, lopsided vision, you caught sight of the other, even bigger, guard heading for Jungkook while you were being dragged away.

The second your boyfriend saw what was happening to you, the loser he had been beating on was forgotten. His eyes locked on the guard manhandling you, and fury ignited in his expression.

The guard approaching barely had time to take a step before Jungkook threw him to the ground like he weighed nothing. His unbuttoned dress shirt sleeves exposed the veins in his arms, rippling as he stormed toward you with a look that promised murder. Yummy.

You were still smacking the back of the giant guard carrying you, panic creeping in as the door got closer and closer. "Baby, my purse!" you whined, halting your attack for a second and pointing to the ground. Jungkook was already stalking past it. "Pick it up!"

He grunted in frustration, turning on his heel to grab the fallen Prada before charging back after you. 

The guard reached the door just as Jungkook caught up, and you braced yourself for the moment you’d be tossed out like trash. But in one quick motion, Jungkook grabbed your outstretched hand and used his other hand to grab you by the bum, pulling you off the guard’s shoulder.

You beamed as he set you back on your feet, happily taking your purse from him while he just rolled his eyes. Then, he turned and sent his fist straight to the giant’s jaw. The guard actually stumbled backward, clearly feeling the weight of the hit, and for a brief moment, you thought it was over.

But then the bastard straightened up, cracked his neck like a fucking terminator, and stepped forward again, completely unfazed.

"What. The. Fuck," you seethed, your eyes widening in disbelief. You grabbed Jungkook’s hand, tugging him back, but he was already mirroring the guard’s steps, ready to go again.

"Nope," you muttered, wrapping your arms around his bicep and using every ounce of strength to drag him toward the door.

You knew he could easily overpower you, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he debated it. But after a beat, he scoffed, shooting a final glare at the guard, who had stopped in place, phone in hand as he watched you haul Jungkook outside.

Probably calling the cops, taking down your registration—whatever the fuck. You could already imagine the panic on Jeon Co.’s PR team’s faces when they caught wind of this fuck fest of a night.

You finally let go of Jungkook’s arm when you got outside, your hand diving into your purse for his car keys. He followed close behind, silent but simmering with rage, as you both made your way to his car. It was parked right next to the entrance—definitely not in an actual spot—but he clearly didn’t care. He’d probably left it there to get to you faster.

As soon as the cold air hit your face and you and Jungkook were away from everyone, it’s like all your anger from earlier flooded right back.

You marched straight toward the driver’s seat, just wanting to get the hell out of there, but before you could reach for the door handle, Jungkook’s bruised hand snaked around your waist and pulled you back against him. He plucked the keys from your hand with ease, scoffing under his breath as he ushered you toward the passenger side.

"Give me the fucking keys, Jungkook—"

He let out a dark, humorless laugh. "First of all, you’ve been drinking. Don’t be fucking stupid. Second of all, why do you sound like you’re mad at me? I’m mad at you!"

"I had a fucking lemonade, I didn’t drink, you psycho!" you snapped, spinning on your heel to face him. "And, I’m sorry, mad at me?" You shoved his hand off your stomach and made a grab for the keys, but he slipped them into his pocket, resting his hand right over them like he was daring you to try.

"You’re the one who just went ape-shit and beat half the bar to a fucking pulp!"

"Don’t be dramatic," he rolled his eyes, leaning casually against the car like he hadn’t just trashed multiple people inside.

"You just fucking—"

He narrowed his eyes dangerously. "And why am I here in the first place, Y/N?"

"Oh, I don’t know," you snapped back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because you’re a—"

You cut yourself off this time, catching the slight arch of his brows—just a fraction.

His head tilted, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

"I’m a what, baby?" His voice was low, amused, taunting.

You squinted at him, but he just waited, utterly patient, like he had all the time in the world.

"I’m a what?"

Your eyes rolled to the sky in frustration, and you turned your back on him, yanking on the door handle in frustration. But of course, it was locked. You didn’t even bother looking back at him.

"Open the door, Jungkook."

"Sure," he jingled the keys in his pocket with infuriating calmness, "When you finish your sentence. I’m a what?"

You glared over your shoulder at him, biting back a snarl as your eyes raked down his stupidly gorgeous frame. Tousled hair, the top two buttons of his dress shirt sluttily popped open, bruised and bloody hands casually tucked into the pockets of his designer slacks. So fucking annoying.

"You," you started, eyes narrowing as you stepped back. "Are sleeping alone tonight." You punctuated it with a sarcastic smile before pushing off the car and storming down the street toward your own.

The second you started walking, you heard his footsteps trailing after you like a shadow. You just shook your head, your tone clipped as you bit out, "Go home, Jungkook. Your home. I’m sleeping at my own place tonight."

"Mm, and how do you plan on getting there?" His voice followed, calm—too calm.

"Hmm, take a wild fucking guess, genius," you snapped, diving back into your purse to grab your keys. But your hand came up empty.

"Mother fucker," you hissed, spinning around to find yourself face-to-face with his broad chest. You took a breath, glaring up at him. "Give me my keys."

"When you finish what you were saying," he replied lowly.

You scoffed, incredulous. "You’ll give me my keys and let me drive home if I finish my sentence?" You almost laughed in his face, knowing damn well he was full of shit.

"No," he shrugged, his honesty almost infuriating, "but I still want you to say it."

You groaned, exasperated. "Why is it so important to you—"

"Everything you say is important to me." His tone was unflinchingly direct. "And I want to know what you think of me."

For a split second, your heart tugged at his words, even as the anger bubbling in your chest fought to take over.

You weren’t mad at him for going in there and smashing that dirty sleaze’s head into the counter. You weren’t mad that he had taken on the Goliath twins like a reckless maniac with no concern for his own well-being.

You were mad because he lied to you.

"A liar." The words slipped from your lips, quiet but cutting, your eyes locking with his.

The flicker of pain that flashed across his gaze was immediate. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had braced himself for you to call him a possessive jerk, a jealous asshole, even a fucking loser. But not that.

"Baby," Jungkook swallowed, his beaten hands slowly gliding down to caress the sides of the dress he both loved and hated seeing you in. "I’m so sorry."

"Yeah," you nodded, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away just as he tried to lean down for a kiss. "Always are, huh?"

"Please, don’t," he sighed softly, his breath warm against your neck as his nose nuzzled into your skin. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had buried his fist into a guy’s jaw just five minutes ago. “I would never leave your side if I didn’t have to. You know that. You have to know that.”

"And you just had to stay back tonight of all nights?" Your words were sharp, cutting. "Couldn’t get one of your two fucking assistants to carry some of the workload? Or maybe that slut from level 7 who’s always begging to take some stress off her ‘big, hunky, hardworking boss?’"

Jungkook let out a low chuckle, nipping at your neck in amusement when you imitated Heejin’s voice. She hadn’t ever said anything quite that bold—obviously. You would’ve had him fire her on the spot if she had. But her lingering glances, the way she was always offering herself up for extra tasks, the way she hovered around… yeah, her actions spoke louder than words, and it made your blood fucking boil.

"Our board meeting ran way overtime, and they sprung last-minute critical amendments on us for the Cypher Project, baby," he mumbled into your skin, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck. "You know no one else could’ve handled it, or I would’ve been out of there."

"Okay." You nodded, lips pressing together as you let him kiss your neck for a while, but your mind was still racing.

"Okay?" he echoed in a hum, his mouth moving lower, pressing another soft kiss just above your collarbone. He sounded almost suspicious at how easily you seemed to be dropping the argument.

"Okay," you repeated, still letting him kiss you, your body slightly relaxing under his touch.

He hummed again, but then something clicked. No. This was too easy. You were never this quick to drop an argument. There wasn’t nearly enough groveling.

"Baby—"

Before he could finish, your hand shot into his left pocket, snatching the keys and shoving him you off with your other hand. He stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise as he barely caught his balance. You didn’t wait around to see him recover; you just turned and headed straight for your car.

Of course, he followed.

"Baby, come on—"

You didn’t stop, your pace quickening as you adjusted your handbag on your shoulder. "Nope. Don’t care."

"Baby, I'm fucking sorry."

"Uh-huh," you muttered, clicking the button to unlock your car before yanking the door open. He was right behind you, still trying.

“You’re not seriously leaving me right now, are you?”

You shot him a cold glance, leaning on the car door. “Yep. Maybe you should call Heejin—see if she’s free tonight. She can keep my side of the bed warm,” you spat, sliding into the driver’s seat.

His jaw ticked, tongue poking at the side of his cheek as he leaned back, letting you slam the door in his face. The engine roared to life, filling the thick silence between you two, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he nodded, something dark flashing in his eyes as his teeth toyed with his lip ring.

“You know I’m just gonna follow you, right?” His low voice carried through the glass, calm as ever.

You rolled your eyes, throwing the car into gear and pulling out of the lot.

But you weren’t the least bit surprised when, just a few moments later, you caught sight of his car pulling out right behind you.

He was home before you.

Not that you were surprised. You had gotten the doorbell alert two streets over, and it only made you scoff, your foot easing off the gas as you slowed down even more, wanting to make him wait. You had briefly considered going to Jimin’s for the night, but you knew better. Even though Jungkook had a soft spot for his assistant, there was no way in hell he’d let you sleep over at another guy’s house, and you weren't about to drag Jimin into that.

Sliding out of your car, you said nothing, grabbing your coat and purse from the passenger seat before locking it. Jungkook was already perched on your front doorstep, his head snapping up the second your tires crunched against the driveway.

“Baby, I need you to turn your location back on. I get it. You made your point—”

“Don’t start, Jungkook.” You sighed, your heels clicking against the stone steps as you brushed past him to unlock the front door.

You didn’t even bother closing the door behind you as you walked in, knowing he was right behind, the sound of it clicking shut as he locked it for you. Your purse and coat landed carelessly on the hallway table, and your fingers instinctively massaged the soreness creeping up the side of your neck. Without a word, Jungkook crouched down and slipped off your heels, lining them up neatly next to his shoes.

It was late, and the exhaustion that had been chasing you all night was finally sinking in. Your body ached, your mind was running on fumes, and all you really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. But something in the air told you that wasn’t happening any time soon. Whether it would be another argument, angry makeup sex, or another night of kicking Jungkook to the couch—only to lie sleepless for an hour before dragging his ass back to your bed—you weren’t sure yet.

Your steps were slow as you made your way to the bathroom, flicking the light on before leaning heavily against the sink. You cracked your neck, your eyes closing for a brief moment as the exhaustion took over.

You didn’t even flinch when Jungkook’s chest pressed against your back, his strong arms slipping around you as he reached for the faucet to wash his hands. The water ran pinkish, swirling down the drain as it cleared the blood and dirt from his knuckles, but you weren’t concerned. He knew how to throw a punch safely—years of boxing and training made sure of that. This was very mild compared to the damage he’d done in the early days of your relationship. Back then, you’d spent more time getting him unbanned from clubs than actually enjoying them.

He dried his hands slowly, taking his time before reaching for one of your hair ties on the counter. His fingers worked through your hair, gathering it into a loose ponytail.

You were far too drained to even consider pushing him away—not that you would’ve, even if you weren’t. Upset? Sure. But truly mad? Not really.

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you fell for a wildly successful, young CEO. Long nights, last-minute cancellations, missed plans—it was the nature of his world. Normally, you accepted it. But tonight had been different. Tonight was supposed to be one of the rare, precious evenings you finally had time to spend together after months of clashing schedules. You’d planned for it, gotten excited about it, and then… it was ruined. So, yeah, you were pissed.

But at the same time, you understood. The Cypher Project was monumental for Jeon Corp. Jungkook had poured nearly a year of blood, sweat, and no sleep into it. It was his baby, and only a handful of people were allowed anywhere near it—his assistants, his CCO, and you. This project mattered. But god, you missed him.

This, though? This was just typical Jeon Jungkook groveling. He’d pamper you, apologize at least a thousand times, buy you another bag or three, and then fuck you until you couldn’t remember why you were mad in the first place. The order of events varied; the bags sometimes took a day or two to arrive.

Once your hair was up, he gently spun you around and lifted you onto the bathroom counter. Your eyes remained shut as he moved between your legs, his long arms reaching for your skincare products. You didn’t have to tell him anything—he knew your routine better than you did at this point.

Before he got started, you cracked one eye open, just for a moment, grabbing his right hand and holding it softly in your lap. Your thumb traced over his knuckles, following the tiny splits. One was still bleeding slightly, while the other looked like it would be bruising by morning.

“Getting better, baby. Barely any blood this time,” you hummed, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before closing your eyes again, waiting.

He smiled at that, though you couldn’t see it. The weight of the towel settled on your lap, and his hand left yours, resting lightly on your chest as he leaned you down, cupping warm water from the sink to wet your face. You stayed still, letting him move through the motions, only shifting when he needed you to. His touch was precise but gentle as he massaged the cleanser into your skin.

Your toes wiggled absentmindedly on either side of his thighs, tapping softly against him while he moved through your products, handling each one with practiced ease.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke.

"I want to move in with you."

You didn’t open your eyes—mostly because your face was covered in toner—but the way your feet stopped swinging and your eyebrows shot up said everything.

“Well, that’s one way to grovel,” you muttered under your breath, leaning down blindly to rinse your face. Jungkook cupped his hand, helping you wash off the spots you missed before gently wiping your face dry with the towel. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips through the fabric.

Cute, you thought.

“Gross,” you mumbled, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.

He didn’t respond, just slipped his hands down your bare legs, wrapping them securely around his waist. You tugged the towel down and blinked up at his pretty face. He just stood there, quiet, watching you. Waiting.

"Are you waiting for something?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He bit his lip, barely concealing a smile. “Hmm. Is that how you’re going to be?”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“So your answer is no, then.” He hummed.

“My answer is nothing because you didn’t ask me a question,” you retorted, brattily swatting his bum with your foot, the light tap making him smirk.

“It’s going to happen eventually,” he said, his tone certain, almost mocking, as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours. His hand caught your ankle, stopping your wandering toe from getting too close to the no-go zone. Well, except that one ti—

“May as well get it out of the way, baby.”

“Oh,” you laughed, amusement coloring your voice as you unwrapped your legs from his waist, resting them on the counter. “Glad you consider the next step in our relationship something we should just get out of the way.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled your legs back down, positioning himself firmly between them again, his hands settling possessively on your thighs. “You know what I mean,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a low growl.

“You already know I’d do anything with you, baby,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as your feet lifted back up to drum lightly against his bum. “But I’m annoyed that you asked me this right after an argument. You’re just doing what you think will make me happy—”

The cold, metallic sensation on your thigh interrupted your sentence. Frowning, you glanced down to see his tattooed hand resting on your skin, something small and cool pressed beneath his palm.

Your brows furrowed. “Move your hand, Kookie.”

He didn’t move, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were serious—more serious than you’d seen in a long while. And that was saying something. Jungkook was always confident, always certain about your relationship, but this… this was different.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his tongue flicking at his lip ring.

“Yes?” you asked, your voice softening as your finger reached up to gently swat his tongue away before you adjusted his lip ring back into place.

“You know how much I love you, right? Like, really know how in love with you I am?” His voice was so genuine, his eyes searching yours intently.

Your head tilted slightly as you swallowed the urge to tease him. The feeling of that little cool object under his palm had your mind racing. You already knew exactly what it was, and if you’d been wearing underwear right now, they’d be fucking soaked.

“I do,” you nodded just as seriously, your hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs as you leaned forward, waiting for his pouty lips to meet yours. He didn’t make you wait long, leaning down immediately, humming as you gently suckled on his tongue and over his lip ring before pulling back.

“I know, baby. I feel it every day." You spoke against his lips, giving them a soft peck before pulling back a little, "I’m so lucky to have you all to myself. I love you just as much, my darling. I hope you know that.”

“I do, baby.” He nodded, leaning down to brush his pretty nose against yours. “You’re it for me, angel. There’s no one after you. That, I know.”

“Mmh,” you grunted in delight, your nose scrunching as your hand snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him down to your lips, hard.

Jungkook melted into you instantly, his hands finding their way up your body as he kissed you with the kind of need that made your entire body hum. His fingers curled into the back of your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and you moaned softly against his mouth, just as his hands moved lower.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, breaking the kiss suddenly as your eyes dropped to the now-uncovered little piece of metal resting on your thigh.

Tears welled up in your eyes the moment you saw it. Your hand darted down, snatching up the now-warm key like it was made of glass, your fingers trembling as you inspected it. This wasn’t a key to his penthouse—you already had one of those.

This was new. Bigger. And turning you the fuck on.

Jungkook's bunny teeth grazed his lip ring, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his face as he watched you silently. Jeon Jungkook didn’t get nervous. He was rich, successful, gorgeous, and had the hottest girl he had ever seen in his life all to himself. But even he couldn’t deny that his heart was beating a little fast, or whatever.

“Baby, fuck," you choked out, your brows furrowing as the tears threatened to spill over. You looked up at him, still clutching the key. "You fucking... ugh!"

Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt, yanking him back down to you. You kissed him again, deep and needy, your lips crashing against his with a desperation you couldn’t quite name.

"Love me that much, hm?" you mumbled between kisses, your voice husky, body arching into him as his tattooed hands slid down your sides, long fingers squeezing around the soft flesh. "Bought me a fucking house, huh, baby?"

Jungkook’s smirk brushed against your lips, so cocky, so him. “Well, I’m not fucking renting it.”

A loud laugh bubbled out of you, muffled by his mouth still pressed against yours. It was cut short when his tongue slipped past your parted lips, hot and familiar, moving with practiced ease.

His tongue... fuck, with the number of times and places you’d had it in your body, you were sure you could pick it out from a lineup blindfolded. Skilled, wet, with that lingering touch of cigarette. Fucking perfect.

You grunted against his mouth, your hand blindly reaching to set the key on the counter without pulling away. “Told you to stop smoking.”

“Told you to get fucked,” he hummed back, his words vibrating on your tongue as his hands slid from your hips to your ass, gripping hard enough to make you gasp before pulling you flush against his growing bulge.

“Cunt,” you giggled, your fingers tangling around the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper, your tongue chasing that smoky flavor as heat pulsed between your legs. The softest whine escaped your lips as you swallowed his taste.

“Bitch,” he mumbled lowly, tattooed fingers giving a dirty squeeze to your ass, brows furrowing in delight as his hips ground into yours, the thick, hard length of him pressing between your thighs. Even through the layers of fabric, the friction sent a needy throb straight to your clit.

Your nails scratched lightly against the nape of his neck, and just as you were about to bite down on his tongue, he suddenly pulled back, leaving your lips parted in a confused pout.

“What?” you whined, trying to tug him back down to your mouth, but he wasn’t budging. His eyes were locked in place.

On your crotch.

Oh.

“Y/N.” His voice dropped, deeper, more dangerous.

“Yes, my love?” you blinked innocently, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He didn’t move.

“Are you not wearing fucking panties?”

“Um,” you pursed your lips, pretending to think. “Would you believe me if I said I was?”

Your boyfriend scoffed sorely, giving a bitter nod before peeling himself from you completely and walking out of the bathroom.

You sat there for a second, blinking, frowning at the sight of him walking away, watching how the thick muscles in his back rippled beneath his shirt. God, you just wanted to run your tongue over every inch of that perfect, sinful skin, remembering all the times you had gotten off just by riding that big fucking back—

Shit.

“Baby!” you called after him with a pout, hopping off the counter and ignoring the sticky feeling between your thighs as your feet hit the floor. You wobbled slightly, legs stiff from sitting too long. With a quick kiss to the key resting beside the sink, you dropped it into your jewelry case and scurried after your angry boyfriend.

“Kookie, hold on…” The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway, needy and impatient.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were really pissed when he canceled, okay, and so you did the one thing you knew would get under his skin... going commando in public when he wasn’t around.

You fully expected him to find out at the bar or during some angry foreplay at home. Then, he’d get all sexy, possessive, and you’d end up screaming his name so loud your neighbors would complain again.

But not like this. Not after he’d been so gentle, taking your makeup off with soft, careful touches. Not after he’d just given you the key to the fucking house he bought for the two of you! He was probably feeling all soft and vulnerable, having just taken such a big step in your relationship...

You know, people didn’t really get it—but deep down, your boyfriend was just a big, cuddly teddy bear. Sure, a teddy bear with like three assault charges, but that’s besides the point.

God. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Jungkook didn’t stop. He rounded the corner into your bedroom, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched.

You followed him in, flicking on the light just in time to see him unbuttoning his shirt, quietly tugging it free from where it had been tucked into his slacks. His back was to you, standing near your vanity, jaw tight with restraint, anger radiating off him in waves.

The muscles in his broad shoulders flexed as you stepped closer, your palms sliding up the expanse of his back.

"Baby, I'm—"

"Don't." His voice was low, firm—a quiet command cutting off any apology on the tip of your tongue. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it over the chair beside him before his hand moved to his belt, the metallic clink sounding sharper in the silence of the room.

You sighed softly, pressing a kiss to his warm, bare shoulder, the skin still taut with tension. Your forehead rested against his back as your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close. “Are you mad at me?”

"Mhm." He scoffed, pulling his belt through the loops and throwing it onto the growing pile of clothes.

Without a word, he shrugged off your hold, his back stiff as he walked over to your dresser. Opening the middle drawer, he pulled out one of his shirts, and without even looking back at you, he held it out.

You didn’t hesitate, taking it from his hand. He didn’t need to say anything—Jungkook never wore shirts to bed. Your fingers slipped behind your back, tugging down the zipper of your dress before you let the fabric fall in a pool at your feet.

His eyes caught your movement in the mirror, and he scoffed softly, watching as you unclasped your bra. The bra slipped down, the absence of panties now glaringly obvious. His expression tightened as you slid his shirt over your head, the oversized fabric falling to mid-thigh.

Jungkook unbuttoned his slacks in silence, shoving them off until he stood in just his briefs. He bent down, gathering both of your discarded clothes before disappearing into the bathroom to toss them into the hamper.

You heard the water running as you pulled the band from your hair and padded toward the bathroom, wanting to brush your teeth too. But before you could enter, he stepped out, his tall frame blocking the doorway.

"Get in bed," he said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

You pouted but turned around, dragging your feet toward the bed. From the way he flicked off the light behind you, it was clear you weren’t getting dicked down tonight. Jungkook always kept the lights on when he was fucking you—he liked to see everything properly. You frowned as you crawled under the covers.

"My love," you started softly, watching his back as he climbed into bed, turning to face the window. He didn’t respond. "Baby, please—"

"I’m so fucking angry," he finally spoke, his voice low, thick with frustration. Your hand raked over the tattoos covering his tense arm as you scooted closer, your fingertips tracing the ink in the way you always did to calm him down.

"Turn around and go to sleep," he grumbled, laced with warning.

"Can’t sleep when you’re mad at me. You know that," you whined softly, shuffling closer until you were pressed against his back, your leg draping over his waist, pulling yourself into his space.

He tensed under your touch but didn’t push you away.

You nuzzled into him, your cheek resting on his shoulder, hand tracing gentle patterns along his side. "Talk to me, baby," you whispered, your voice soft, pleading. "Please."

"You knew it would piss me off. I don’t know why you’re surprised—"

"Yeah, but I thought it would be like sexy, possessive, fuck me into the mattress mad…" Your words were muffled as your lips brushed against the warmth of his back, speaking directly into his skin. “I didn’t expect you to ask me to move in with you, baby—”

"So, if I didn’t," he interrupted, tugging the blanket over his shoulder, brushing you off in the process. "You wouldn’t be sorry at all?"

You frowned, pulling the blanket back down and reclaiming your spot, pressing yourself against him again.

“Not really,” you admitted, lips finding the little heart tattoo on his shoulder blade that he’d let you needle into him. You pressed a gentle kiss to it, your voice softening into a playful coo. “Was really mad at you. But then you were all stupidly cute and you bought us a fucking houseee, baby.”

Your fingers curled around his bare side, your kisses turning into quick, playful pecks across the tattoo. "And now I am very..." You pressed another kiss to his skin, “sorry.” Kiss. “My love.” Kiss.

He shifted slightly, his body tense but responsive to your touch. You knew you were getting to him, your lips soft against his inked skin, your tone low and slow. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop you, not entirely immune to the way your kisses trailed over his back, or the way your fingers skimmed down his side.

“You think you can just kiss me and make it better?” His voice was still low, but there was something softer creeping into it, the edges of his anger starting to blur under your touch.

You gazed affectionately at your softie's back, a smile playing on your lips as you rubbed your nose over the tattoo. “Maybe,” you hummed. “But I can do a little more than kiss you, if that's not enough…” you whispered, your hand trailing lower, brushing just above the waistband of his briefs.

He let out a small, frustrated sigh, but his body betrayed him—muscles relaxing slightly under your touch.

“Brat,” he muttered under his breath, shifting his position to lie on his back, allowing the blanket to slide down his body and reveal his broad, toned chest.

A soft, approving grunt left your lips as you shamelessly drank in the view, your eyes lingering on your favorite tattoo, scribbled prettily across his chest.

You’ve always been vocal about your love for Jungkook’s tattoos—they’re one of your favorite things about him. Some hold more meaning than others, but they're all breathtakingly beautiful. Honestly, with the number of times your nails have raked down his skin while he takes you like an untamed force, you’d think the ink would’ve rubbed off by now.

But your favorite? The tattoo nestled right below his left, perfectly pink nipple.

Your name.

You’ve never been one for tattoos on yourself, and you know people have all sorts of opinions about getting your partner’s name etched into your skin—a curse, they say. But when Jungkook told you, not asked, told you that he was going to get your name tattooed on him, you'd never dropped to your knees so fast in your life.

You were both lounging lazily on his couch, enjoying one of those rare days off, when he told you the news. The next twelve hours were spent on his lap, with the couch left in a state that required professional cleaning. Jungkook was very upset when you had it cleaned while he was at work, but you made it up to him.

By telling him you wanted one too.

You could already picture your sweet Christian mother rolling in her grave at the thought of you getting a tattoo, let alone your boyfriend’s name—the same boyfriend who’s done things to you no amount of repentance could ever erase. But it’s okay. You planned to get it in a place she wouldn’t see, wherever she’s watching from.

When you told Jungkook about your plan to get matching ink, it led to the second most tender and passionate sex you’d ever had—the first being the day you both said “I love you” for the first time. He's a sap like that.

You were supposed to get "Jungkook" etched onto your inner thigh, but the moment the needle touched your skin, you knew there was no way in hell you were sitting through all eight letters. So, you settled for "JK." Still adorable, and you loved it. So did he.

He’s obsessed with it, sometimes spending hours suckling on the ink. He’ll fall asleep with his head in your lap, the tattooed skin nestled in his mouth like a pacifier. His hand gravitates there when you're out to dinner with friends, resting directly on the spot if you're wearing a skirt, over your jeans if you're not.

Jungkook, of course, got your entire first name and let you pick where it would go. He only had one condition: it had to be on the front of his body—somewhere on his chest or maybe his thigh. When you asked why, he simply said he wasn’t getting any other tattoos there. That space was only for you.

You immediately picked the spot under your favorite nipple of his, and rode him into the sunset right after.

Angel isn’t a word most people—well, any people—would use to describe Jeon Jungkook. But for you, it’s that simple.

He’s your angel. Your short-tempered, jealous, possessive, fiery-fisted angel. For forever and then some.

Despite your boyfriend's irritated expression, you could sense the familiar heat building up in him, causing his eyes to darken and his teeth to tug on his lip rings unconsciously. You felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight.

God, you were down so bad.

A sly grin tugged at your lips as you shifted, sliding your leg over his waist to straddle him, your bare heat pressing flush against the hard bulge straining beneath his briefs. A soft, satisfied hum escaped your throat as you leaned down, letting your lips graze along the sharp line of his jaw.

“Thought you liked your bitches bratty,” you murmured, the words brushing against his lip rings. You kissed your way slowly, deliberately down his neck. “Heard Heejin can get real mouthy.”

“Hm, she’s not usually that bad around me,” he said, his tone casual, almost playful. His tattooed fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing lazily along your sides. “Then again, her mouth is usually otherwise occupied.”

Your lips froze mid-kiss against his neck, the heat in the room shifting as a bubbling wave of jealousy swirled low in your stomach. You knew he was only matching your teasing with his own, but it didn’t stop the image from forming—Heejin, beneath you, as you straddled her in this exact position. Only this time, you weren’t smirking. This time, your hands gripped a pillow, pressing it down firmly until her frantic kicks finally stilled.

You recovered quickly, trailing your kisses lower down his chest. “Yeah?” you bit, voice tight as you continued kissing along his skin. “She suck your cock just the way you like it, baby?”

Jungkook swallowed a shiver as you slid down his body, your mouth hovering over his chest. The tension between you thickened as your teeth grazed his nipple, your tongue darting out just enough to tease.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice strained as he felt your hot breath fan over him. “She’s real sloppy with it. Bit surprising, considering she acts like a fucking church girl in the office—”

You waited until his nipple hardened from the sensation of your breath before biting down, hard, sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin.

His reaction was instant—a sharp hiss slipping through his clenched teeth as his fingers dug into your sides on instinct, gripping you hard enough to leave marks.

His hips jerked up against you, the friction sending a spark through your core as he tried to suppress the groan building in his throat at your obvious stake to claim. His restraint was fading, and you couldn't fucking wait.

You followed up with a soft lick, soothing the now-red nub before lowering your mouth to press a wet, possessive kiss over your tattoo on his chest.

“Sorry,” you mumbled insincerely, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him.

Jungkook’s gaze was fiery, narrowed as he looked up at you, but you could see the way his breath quickened, his stomach contracting deliciously beneath your bare heat that he was affected.

The grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down harder as he let out a low warning. "Careful, baby."

You smiled small, dragging your nails lightly over his abdomen as you trailed back up his body. “Sorry, baby. Hyungwon used to love it when I did that—"

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Jungkook was flipping you onto your back, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. The look in his eyes was dark, jaw clenched tight as he loomed over you.

If there was one thing that drove Jungkook over the edge, it was when you mentioned your ex.

"Think you're so funny, hm?" His voice dropped low, a dangerous edge creeping in as his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his gaze darkening as it scanned your face. You could feel the shift—he was serious now.

You pouted up at him, a small smile still playing on your lips. “Just being honest, love. Hyungwon’s left nipple was really sensitive—”

A deep scoff reverberated from Jungkook’s chest, his fingers tightening their hold just enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leaned down, his nose brushing yours as his jaw clenched.

"If you ever comp—" he stopped abruptly, his breath unsteady, voice shaking with barely-contained rage at being compared to the guy he’d nearly put into a coma the last time he laid eyes on him. His jaw clenched, tongue sliding over the inside of his cheek as he glared down at you. "Say his name again, Y/N. I fucking dare you."

You don't know why you did it.

Maybe you lacked survival instincts. Or maybe it was because you were wetter than the fucking Atlantic.

Oh well. Too late now.

"Hyungw—"

You barely got through the first syllable before you were flipped onto your stomach, your cheek pressed into the mattress, the sudden force of the movement knocking the air from your lungs.

A grunt escaped your lips, your head tilting just enough to catch your breath. You could barely contain the smile threatening to spread across your face, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as a thrill of excitement raced through your veins.

Fucking finally.

Jungkook’s weight vanished from the bed, and though every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, you knew better. You had been here before, too many times to count. Sitting up to look at him would earn you more than just punishment—it would leave you edged and begging for release until you were a writhing, pathetic mess. Normally, you’d relish every second of that torture, but right now you were too fucking soaked and too fucking needy to drag this out any longer. You haven't had his cock inside you since before he left your place for work this morning.

And that was like… seventeen fucking hours ago!

Your body thrummed with anticipation, the ache between your thighs pulsing as you stayed perfectly still, hands flat at your sides. You nuzzled deeper into the pillow with a pleased hum, toes wiggling in eager impatience.

Then came the sound you were waiting for.

He was back behind you, the loud click of the belt buckle confirming it. "'M getting too soft on you, baby." His voice was low, dark.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you felt the cold brush of the belt against your bare thighs, the sensation jolting straight to your core.

You bit down harder on your lip, resisting the urge to respond. You knew that would only make it worse. And better.

"Let you ignore my texts," he hummed, the belt dragging slowly up the curve of your legs, making you squirm involuntarily under his touch.

"Let you walk around with no fucking panties," he growled, his hands pulling up the hem of his shirt so your body was fully exposed to him. You immediately gripped the fabric, holding it tight so it stayed in place, eager to feel the weight of his eyes on your bare skin.

"Bought you a fucking house."

He rested the belt on your waist, a promise of what was to come, then his fingers trailed lower, sliding exactly where you wanted them. He gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks just enough to let you feel the warm brush of his fingers against your slick heat.

"This what you wanted, baby?" His voice was a low, mocking drawl, dripping with condescension. "You want me to fuck you like the needy little slut you are?"

A helpless whimper escaped your lips, your thighs parting instinctively at his words, betraying the desperation that throbbed through every inch of your body.

It was fucked, really—how easily he could lead you into this hazy, trance-like state with just a few words. In everyday life, you were lippy, hot-headed, the kind of person who would never let anyone walk all over you without a fight.

But with Jungkook? When he controlled you, when he degraded you, it never left you feeling small, not like other inferior men from your past who only managed to make you feel amused or bored.

With Jungkook, it was different. The way he commanded you, as twisted as it was, it made you feel seen. Wanted. Like you were exactly where you needed to be—in his hands, under his control. All you desired was to surrender completely, to let him take and take until there was nothing left.

Maybe you were biased, considering you loved the man currently smirking wickedly above you with every fiber of your being, but who cared? He owned you, and god, did you love every second of it.

Jungkook hummed, his fingers sliding through your wetness, gathering it slowly. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "So wet just from running that fucking mouth of yours, huh?"

Your breath hitched, every nerve firing as he lifted a hand to press lightly on the buckle resting on your back, the pressure sending a delicious ache radiating through you. You could already imagine the sting it would leave, the thought alone making you drip.

Then, his hand trailed back down your side, leaving the belt untouched and useless on your back. You bit back a disappointed grunt.

"All leaky and achy just from imagining Heejin-ah with my cock in her mouth, baby?" His taunt was biting, and you couldn’t stop the irritated noise that bubbled from your throat. He deliberately added the friendly honorific to get a rise out of you. And it worked.

"Oh?" Jungkook's laughter was filled with malice as he lightly traced his thumb over your folds for the briefest of seconds, not enough to satisfy, not even close.

"You don’t like it when I talk about other girls having me like you have me, huh? Not so fun is it, baby?"

His thumb brushed against your clit, fleeting, fast, gone before you could even register the sensation. Your hips bucked, chasing after the contact you craved, but he was already pulling away.

"Funny that," he mused before his tone turned menacingly low. "Because you sure as hell like talking about that boring fucking cuck a bit too much for my liking."

With the last remnants of your composure, you opened your mouth, ready to fire back one last bratty comment. Maybe the lord was on your side, though, because before you could get a word out, Jungkook cut you off.

"Color."

The retort died on your tongue, and before you even processed it, the response was out.

"Bright fucking green."

Jungkook’s mouth came down hot and harsh, his evil tongue licking a fat stripe right down your soaking slit. He took one of your ass cheeks in each hand, parting them effortlessly. You felt more than heard the deep inhale and exhale over your cunt as he dipped his nose into it like a dog would do to their water bowl on a hot fucking day.

Your breathing turned erratic, and your hands curled into fists to stop yourself from grabbing his head and forcing him deeper into your pussy. The way his tongue moved so deliberately, so lazily, only heightened the tension coiling tight in your core. When he had his fill of dragging his nose up and down your slit, his mouth latched onto your clit, slurping it up like it was his last fucking meal.

Your back arched, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your fingers clawed at your sheets, trying to clutch onto any last thread of sanity. The grip on your ass tightened, keeping you wide open as he went at you with a brutal pace. Your thighs trembled around his head, your hole fluttering at the pleasure he was delivering to your clit. He was relentless, taking out all his anger and frustration on your poor little pussy.

Your cunt couldn’t keep up with him. It was dripping, soaking your boyfriend's face faster than he could lap it up, coating his chin and dripping down to the sheets beneath you. He groaned into your pussy, a low, dirty sound that vibrated right through your core.

"Ah! Fuck baby," you sobbed, burying your face further into the mattress. "Ngh-fuckkk!"

He didn't stop, tongue noisily sucking and flicking at your clit. Then his hand lifted and came down hard on your right ass cheek, the sharp slap sending a jolt straight through you. It ripped a moan from your throat and you forced yourself not to ask for another one.

"Not my name right now," he pulled back enough to scoff.

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s hands were already on you, shifting your body until you were holding yourself up on your hands and knees, your weight settled into doggy position.

He let out a low hum in approval before wasting no time and burying his mouth back into your heat, tongue sliding up and down viciously through your sopping folds.

“Ah-uhhh! Yes, daddy, oh my godddd,” you cried out, your eyes rolling back, hips bucking as his nose pressed deeper into your pussy.

He moaned into you, the vibration rippling through you as his tongue trailed slowly toward the entrance of your weepy hole.

Your evil fucking boyfriend hovered there for a moment, pretending to tease the tight muscle before his lips gave a big, harsh suck. The sound echoed in your ears as he slurped up as much of your slick as he could, coating his tongue before shoving it right into your clenching hole.

“Ah!” Your scream tore raw from your throat, your nails digging sorely into the mattress. His free hand slid up your body, four fingers pressing into the top of your ass cheeks, gripping you with possessive strength, while his thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing it in big, messy circles.

"Daddy -ah! Oh my fuckkk yes, eat your fucking pussy daddy, goddd."

Jungkook groaned lowly into you, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in the taste of the sweetest pussy he's ever had and will ever have in his life. He was manic as he drank from it, slurped at it, rubbed it all over his dirty fucking face. The wet sounds of his tongue pistoning into your hole, his finger sliding over your soppy clit, your fucked-out whimpers while you screamed for your Daddy.

Music to his fucking ears.

Your legs shook, elbows digging into the mattress as you forced yourself to keep form. If it weren't for your boyfriend's firm hand pressed against your stomach, holding you up, you both know you'd be face down on the mattress again.

Jungkook felt the tension in your belly beneath his palm and he knew you were getting close. He let you writhe for a few more seconds before slowing his movements, slipping his tongue from your hole and pressing a kiss to the pretty, puffed outer lips. He gave a wet suckle to your pebbled clit on his way out and finally pulled back with a loud smacking sound.

As much as the whiny cry you let out when he pulled away made his already aching cock throb harder in his briefs, he needed both hands for what he was about to do to you. And you knew it.

His bunny teeth poked out to graze against your inner left thigh, pussy-coated lips puckering to press a soft kiss over the ink that bore his name. Then, his hand pulled back and landed a quick smack on your right thigh, the light sting spreading instantly across your skin.

You understood immediately, a strained groan slipping from your lips as you rolled onto your back, head sinking into the pillow.

The belt buckle had been digging into your skin, so you quickly pulled it from beneath you, tossing it beside you on the bed. Your feet pressed into the mattress, knees bending as your legs spread open once more, leaving your glistening pussy on full display—just the way he taught you.

"Mm," Jungkook hummed approvingly, his eyes raking over your body with that look of dark satisfaction. His hand drifted to his cock, now uncomfortably hard, and gave it a rough palm through the fabric.

When his gaze paused at your chest, where his shirt had slipped back down to cover your breasts, you knew what to do. 

But you didn't want to take it off… it was your favorite.

Instead, you tugged the fabric higher, pulling it up over your tits, shuddering as the material grazed over your sensitive nipples. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you bit down lightly on the hem, holding it in place between your teeth.

Jungkook let out a low, dirty groan, his fingers trailing up your thighs, giving the soft flesh a possessive squeeze. "Good girl, baby."

"Thank you, daddy," you keened at the praise, though your response came out muffled with the shirt wedged between your teeth.

You gave a little impatient wiggle of your hips, feeling the mixture of slick and saliva begin to drip out of your pussy the longer it was left unattended.

Jungkook's eyes hooded at the sight, watching as a glob of his spit dripped down from your pussy and disappeared right between your crack. He swallowed hard, hands itching to spread the fat cheeks and watch the liquid pool around your tight, puckered hole. He'd grab your phone and make you bring up Park Hyungwon's contact, force you to Facetime the pathetic fuck, and make him watch as he let more of his spit trail from his mouth right over your greedy ass. Then he'd use his big tongue to shove it deeper and deeper into your winking little hole .

Of course, the Hyungwon part was purely theoretical because you no longer had his number or any contact with that cunt anymore. Jungkook saw to that three days into your relationship. But the other parts—

"Daddy?"

His gaze slowly drifted up to your pretty face when your muffled voice broke him from his thoughts. "Yes, my baby?"

"Wha's da bel' for?" you mumbled, your speech slurred by the fabric of his shirt still caught between your teeth.

Jungkook’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip, eyes darkening at the sight of you struggling to speak, and he wasn’t surprised when his cock twitched in response, pressing harder against his stomach.

He glanced at the belt lying next to you. “Was gonna punish you, angel,” he admitted softly.

His hand trailed down, freeing his throbbing shaft from its restraints and kicking the briefs aside. The (non-sexual related) clean freak in him made a mental note to tidy up later.

Climbing onto the bed, he settled between your legs, his weight pressing down on you as his chest melded into your soft, warm skin. A quiet, content sigh slipped from his lips as he let himself sink into you.

“But 'm still very sorry about earlier,” he murmured, his words a gentle apology as his hand brushed along your side, his nose nuzzling against your boob. “And I wanna be a little gentler with you tonight. Is that okay?”

A warmth swirled in your stomach, sending soft flutters through your body. Your hand lifted to thread through his silky, messy hair, your nails grazing his scalp just the way he loved.

“Of cour-kkhm,” His eyes flicked up to meet yours from where his head rested on your chest, and with a bunny smile, his fingers carefully tugged his shirt from your mouth, freeing your lips so you could speak more clearly.

Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his tattooed fingers, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. “You can have me any way you want, baby,” you whispered softly, your words full of affection. “You know that.”

“Never getting rid of me, you know that, right?” he murmured against the soft skin of your sideboob, his lips puckering to suck a delicate mark into the flesh.

“Would never try,” you sighed, your hand trailing down to rest on his warm, solid back as he licked tenderly over the mark he’d left. “Would fucking castrate you if you even tried to leave me.”

A low, deep laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he shifted up, his naked form pressing closer until his mouth found its place in the crook of your neck. He mumbled softly, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Would let you.”

You giggled, your head tilting to meet your other half. “Slut,” you mumbled sweetly before connecting your mouth with his. Your lips moved together in perfect sync, tongues lazily lapping against each other, unrushed and full of love.

The taste of you in his mouth had you clenching around nothing as the memory of his filthy tongue buried between your thighs minutes ago resurfaced. Your hips rocked up lightly, exhaling through your nose when the tip of his cock just barely brushed against your sticky clit, the sound loud in contrast to the soft click of your tongues.

Jungkook was no less affected, groaning into your mouth as his fingers tightened around the sides of your waist. His hips shifted down so the full length of his shaft could slip between your slick folds, and he reveled in the loud, squishy noise of your heat enveloping him as he slid back and forth.

“Mmmmhh,” you broke away from his mouth with a sigh of relief, your head lolling back as your body ignited at the feeling of his cock finally returning home. He didn’t make a move to push inside just yet, continuing his deep thrusts, coating his length and balls in your slick as he rutted back and forth. "Shit, baby."

Jungkook’s groan was strained as his hand trailed from your side, slipping between the two of you without moving his head. He reluctantly pulled his cock from your slick folds before two of his fingers were there to replace it, sinking into your heat without hesitation.

"F-fuck," you choked, your chest heaving at the sudden stretch, your body reacting instantly to the familiar intrusion. It was the first time something stiff had been inside you all night, and the relief was overwhelming.

Jungkook groaned low in your ear, letting you adjust for a second before his hunger took over. He pushed his fingers in deeper into your hole, sinking them in fully until his palm slapped loudly against your clit. Then he pulled them out and drove them back in, harder.

"Oh god, b-baby, shitttt." Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, jaw slacking when his long fingers easily reached that spongey part deep inside of you.

He nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing the hot skin there as his fingers continued their relentless pace, a soft groan escaping his throat. The way your walls squeezed tightly around his fingers like you didn't want him to pull out, the loud sqsch-sqsch-sqsch of your pussy echoing in his ears as he thrusted his hand in and out of your dirty little hole.

God, he was going to cum untouched like a fucking teenager.

“Need to put it in, please, baby,” he begged softly, voice strained with need, his breath hot against your neck. “Need you."

Your hand cupped his face, fingers brushing lightly over his jawline as your eyes fluttered shut. “Take it,” you mewled, breath catching as his fingers slowed. His hips shifted back over you, his heavy balls pressed snugly against your clit. “Take it all, baby. It’s yours.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers, his wet hand wrapping around his throbbing cock. He exhaled into your neck before slipping back into your folds and you choked out a loud sigh of relief as he finally began to fill you up.

“Shittttt,” he slurred against your neck, his forehead pressing into your jaw as he sank all the way in until his hips were flush with yours. “God, baby... so fucking good.”

His body stayed pressed against yours, his chest melting into your own, every inch of his skin needing to feel yours. His lips ghosted over your collarbone, up your neck, and to your jawline, pressing gentle kisses as he moved inside you with deep, unhurried thrusts.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, your hands sliding up his back, pulling him impossibly closer. You buried your face into his neck, the scent of Bvlgari and tobacco making your head spin. It was so good. So fucking him.

The warmth of his heavy body on top of you made you feel so safe, so completely his. It fueled the burning ache in your stomach, the pressure in your core building with each deep stroke.

Your brows furrowed, overwhelmed, and your eyes pooled with tears, both from pleasure and emotion. "God, I love you so much, Jungkook. You make me feel so safe a-and loved," you choked out, voice trembling.

Jungkook’s hips stilled slightly, but you felt the way his cock twitched inside you at your words. He pulled his head back, looking down at your tear-streaked face, eyes softening.

"My baby," he mumbled softly, his clean(er) hand lifting to brush away your tears before leaning down to press soft kisses over your flushed skin.

"As long as I’m alive, nothing and nobody will ever hurt a hair on your pretty little head, Y/N." He kissed over the fresh tears, licking the salty liquid off his lips before placing a soft kiss onto your pouty lips. "Besides me, of course, when you ask me to."

A watery chuckle escaped your lips as he added, "I love you more than I love myself, baby. You're my world. I would kill for you," another kiss to the corner of your mouth before he cheekily added, "almost have."

You giggled, shaking your head and leaning up to press a grateful kiss against his lips. You followed it with another, longer one, brushing softly over the cool metal of his lip rings. "Can't wait to live with you, baby."

"Mmm," he groaned in satisfaction, his hips instinctively picking up their slow, deep rhythm at your words. "Yeah? Can’t wait to be trapped in my house, nowhere to run when you’re being a little brat?"

You laughed, breathy from the way he was rolling his hips into you. "Like I get far as it is? You just follow me like a dirty stalker."

His smile turned dark and playful as his thrusts became a little sharper. "Uh-huh, and you think that would stop when we sign some stupid joint tenancy papers?"

You couldn't help the way you clenched around him at that, big eyes blinking up at him in shock. "You're letting me sign the papers with you?"

Jungkook's brows furrowed as if confused. "Baby, it's our house; why wouldn’t you?"

A grunt rumbled from your throat as you pulled him down, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Jungkook groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, his thrusts growing rougher in response to the bite.

The sounds that echoed around your bedroom were wet, needy, the slick squelching with every push and pull as he kept his pace, deep and steady. Your breaths mingled, his lips hovering over yours as he rocked into you.

Jungkook groaned lowly, his hips pressing harder, more urgent. “You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped, his lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw, up to your ear. “Give it to me every day, and it's still so wet and tight for me, fucking hellll.”

You keened at his praise, biting your lip harshly as his pace quickened. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, thighs squeezing as you pulled him deeper inside you until you were so close you were getting shoved into the headboard with each thrust.

“Ah, bab-uh! Right theree,” you whined, back arching as he hit that spot with precision, his thick head shoving against your g-spot like it was second nature. He knew your body inside out, and still, every time felt like a new fucking discovery.

Jungkook grunted lowly, his lips hovering by your ear as he thrust deeper, harder. “Right there, baby? That’s my spot, isn’t it? Feels so good when I fuck into it like that, huh?”

Your nails dug into his back as you whimpered, completely at his mercy. The slamming of the headboard against the wall was so loud but you couldn't care less. “Yes, yes, fuck, baby, that's yooourr fucking spot, uuh! Fucking take it, baby, godd!"

Jungkook groaned, his hips snapping faster, rougher, each thrust more desperate as he pounded into you. “I will,” he promised, possessiveness dripping from every word. “And you’re gonna give it to me, right, baby? Gonna beg me for it?”

“Please, baby, take it,” you cried out, your legs tightening around his waist. “Take it all, it’s yours. Just fucking take it.”

His hand gripped your hip hard, anchoring you in place as he slammed into you over and over again. He shifted you down a little so your head wasn't slamming into the headboard and his free hand slid down to rub over your slippery clit.

"Whose is it, huh? Who does this dirty fucking pussy belong to? Tell me.”

“You,” you sobbed, your body trembling beneath him, the pressure building in your core so quickly you could barely think. “It’s yours, baby. All y-yours.”

“Say my fucking name when you come,” he demanded, “and you’re gonna take everything I give you, right, baby? Greedy little pussy’s gonna suck up every drop of my fucking load. And you’re gonna hold it in there until I’m ready to turn you into a mama.”

You came so fucking hard.

It hit you all at once—your release crashing through you, your body shaking violently as a broken scream ripped from your throat, nails digging so deep into his skin you knew you’d leave marks.

“Jung—” your breath hitched in a sob “Jungkooookkkk!”

Your body arched into him, every wave of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you limp and trembling beneath him as he kept pounding into you, chasing his own release. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed in your ears, barely drowning out the breathless thank yous tumbling from your lips.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, his voice strained as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing as he used you as a fleshlight.

“Gonna be the best daddy,” you cried, legs shaking as you let him abuse your whimpering cunt. “Can’t wait to have your fucking babies. Give you, uh, g-give you as many as you want daddy.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, head thrown back in bliss. “Yeah? Gonna keep popping out babies for daddy until he says you’re done? Gonna let me fuck you so full until it sticks... 'til your belly’s so big you can barely fucking walk, baby?”

You could hear the slick, wet sloshing noise every time he pulled out and slammed back into your pussy, and you swore it was the prettiest sound you’d ever heard.

“Yesss, daddyyy,” you cried out, voice high and desperate. “Please make me a mommy. P-please.”

“Nghhh, fuck!”

With one final deep thrust, he spilled into you, hot and thick, his body trembling as he filled you completely. Your name fell from his lips again as your greedy walls fluttered and clenched around him, eager to milk every last drop of cum from his cock.

But he didn’t stop.

Jungkook’s hips kept rolling into yours, adjusting for a moment at the sensitivity before he sped up, dragging his softening cock against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb was cruel, chasing your swollen clit even as it tried to hide from him.

It was too much, too intense, but you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted—back arching, nails back digging back into his big shoulders, a broken wail spilling from your lips.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, head falling back as the overstimulation consumed you. “I c-can'tttt—”

“Another one," Jungkook growled, his lips brushing over your jaw, kissing you through every ragged breath. “C'mon, my love, you can do it. One more. One more, then you're done, baby.”

And just like that, it hit you—your second orgasm crashing through your body, leaving your toes curling and vision blurring. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking beneath him as he kept grinding, coaxing you through every wave of pleasure until you were trembling, thighs quivering around his waist.

“God, fuck!” you sobbed, clinging to him as the last of your release pulsed through you, squeezing his soft cock tight as he groaned into your neck. You were limp, shaking, but he stayed right there.

You both knew the chance of actually getting pregnant was very slim, thanks to the implant your arm, and you weren’t ready for that. You think.

But the breeding talk always turned you both the fuck on, and that 1% chance set something dangerous ablaze inside you. The risk, however small, just made it so much hotter.

You let out a content sigh as you crashed back to earth, shaky arms looping around his neck, pulling him down, craving the weight of his body on yours. Jungkook collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, still buried inside you

“Did so good, my baby. Always so good for me,” he cooed, his voice low and soft, as his nose nuzzled gently against your skin, brushing over your collarbone.

A breathy giggle escaped your lips as your fingers threaded through his slightly damp hair. “Thought you said you wanted to be gentle tonight.”

Jungkook hummed lazily against your neck, his lips trailing over your skin with a soft chuckle. “That was gentle,” he murmured, sinking deeper into your warm skin.

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “You’re not wrong,” you replied, your chest still heaving slightly as your hand slid soothingly up and down his back. You felt him smile against your neck, his arms tightening around you, his cock still nestled deep, clearly in no rush to pull out anytime soon.

For a moment, it was peaceful—the sound of your mingled breaths the only noise in the room. Then, Jungkook lifted his head slightly, glancing at the soft glow of your Mac screen. His eyes caught the time, and he let out an annoyed groan, burying his face deeper into your skin.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” you asked, your fingers still threading through his hair as you glanced toward the screen yourself. Your heart dropped when you saw the time.

“You’ve got to be up in, like, three hours,” you mumbled, running your hand down his back, your feet sliding up and down the back of his thighs in an attempt to soothe him.

Jungkook’s body tensed slightly at the reminder, his lips still pressed to your neck. You could feel the irritation in his silence, and your heart sank at the thought of him leaving before you even woke up.

“I’ll make your lunch before I come into work at eight, baby,” you offered softly, your voice gentle as you tried to ease his frustration. “I can bring it up to y—”

“I’m not going,” he interrupted, his voice firm but soft against your skin.

Your heart stilled at his words, and you pulled back slightly, trying to see his face. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”

“I’m not going in tomorrow,” he repeated, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “And you’re not either. We’re staying right here until we both get some real sleep.”

You blinked in surprise. “But—”

“And then,” he cut you off again, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, “we’re gonna wake up, pack your shit, and move into our house.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation.

Jungkook nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile as he leaned down to kiss you pouty lips, his hands brushing back your hair. “Told you, you can’t run from me anymore, baby.”

You grinned against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him deeply, your heart swelling with love.

“I love you so much, my dirty stalker,” you cooed against his mouth, your fingers drifting to trace over your name inked across his chest.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkled as his lips pressed softly against yours again, his body relaxing as he breathed you in. “I love you more, my crazy girl."

WOW what a ride!! let me know what you think?? love you 🖤

[little-angel-oc]

THE FLUFF 🥹

THE PHOTO 🥹

Purring with love

PAIRING || Sugar Daddy!Tony Stark x Sugar Baby!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || 4.5K

SUMMARY || As you're walking to your car through the pouring rain, you suddenly spot a completely drenched cardboard box in the bushes. As you peek in, you find an abandoned little kitten who is only a few weeks old at most, so you decide to nurse it back to health, creating a strong bond between you two in the process.

RATING || Mature (M)

TAGS || Sugar Daddy AU. Sugar Daddy!Tony Stark. Sugar Baby!Reader.

WARNINGS || Unspecified age gap. Use of nicknames (Sugar). Mutual pining. Idiots in love. Overheard love confession. Animal abandonment. Animal rescue. Light sexual tension. Sexual content.

A/N || This amazing story has been brought to life with love and support from my bestie @ccbsrmsf1, for which I'll forever be grateful! Thank you for proofreading, loving, and supporting me because this wouldn't have existed without your help! Eu te amo 3000 💙

EVENTS Masterlist || @avengersbingo || Clothes sharing Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Wild || 'Hoping for more good days'

Banners: @nicoline1998enilocin || Divider: @rookthornesartistry || Photo: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark Masterlist || AU Masterlist

You sigh as you look outside from your place in the library, where you have been holed up all day to finish a few assignments. As soon as your alarm goes off, notifying you that it's time to go home, you quickly pack up your stuff to get to your car before the rain worsens.

Seeing how the clock is already creeping closer to 7 p.m., it is relatively quiet on Campus, except for the few evening classes that are still being taught. As you go to the door, you adjust your jacket and put the hood on, hoping to shield you from the rain for as long as possible.

With a last deep breath, you swing open the doors leading to the parking lot while inwardly scolding yourself for parking your car so far away today. With a bit of a jog, you make your way to the entrance of the lot, and you can already see your trusty car when your attention is suddenly pulled away.

Right next to the parking lot entrance is a small box that is half open. The rain is steadily pouring inside as you go over to see what is in it and throw it away if it's nothing important. When you crouch next to it, you forget all about the rain as you see a tiny, pitch-black kitten lying in a rapidly growing puddle.

The first thing you do is take off your jacket, rain be damned, and pick up the kitten to keep it warm inside. It's clear that it's still alive as their chest moves with every breath, but as you run to your car, you can't stop the tears from flowing, thinking about how anyone could even begin to think about doing something cruel like this.

As soon as you're dry in your car, you look for something to keep it warmer, suddenly remembering the blanket you have in your backseat. You wrap up the kitten safely, and it doesn't take long to stop shivering in the warmth.

Meanwhile, you find your phone at the bottom of your bag, and with tears streaming down your face steadily, you call the first person who comes to mind: Tony.

It only takes him two rings to pick up, and the worry on his face is immediately visible when he sees and hears how distraught you are.

"Who do I need to hunt down, Sugar?" Tony asks, worry laced in his voice as he sits down. He is technically in the middle of a meeting, but when he sees you calling, he drops everything and answers immediately.

"I-I don't k-know," you stammer out between sobs, tears constantly wetting your cheeks the second you try and wipe them away. "I-I found a-a kitten in a b-box in the p-pouring rain." More sobs make their way through your body as you look down at the kitten on your lap, your camera now aimed at them as well.

"Oh, poor Sugar," Tony whispers, his brows knitted together in concern.

"Are they still alive? Can you take them to a nearby vet?" he asks, and you nod, finally calming down a bit now that you're talking to Tony. His voice always manages to calm you during moments like these, and you wish he were there with you now, but the FaceTime call would have to suffice right now.

"Y-yeah, they're still breathing. Do you think I can keep them if they're okay? I can't abandon them in a shelter, and maybe I won't be as lonely in my apartment if they're around as well," you ask, your tears and sobs having reduced to sniffles now.

"Absolutely, you can, Sugar. Please keep me updated about their well-being, okay? I will ensure they have the best medical care and at-home care," he says, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly at his words.

"Thank you, Tony. And I'm sorry for interrupting your meeting," you whisper, guilt creeping into your gut.

"Please, there's no need to apologize, Sugar. You know you can call me no matter what, and I'll be there for you, alright?" he asks, and you nod. After your last goodbyes, he returns to his meeting as if nothing happened, and you look up the directions to the closest emergency vet.

Luckily, it's only a 15-minute drive, and as soon as you're there, the vet will immediately see you and the little kitten.

"So, what happened to them?" the vet asks, but you shrug.

"I found them in a box near the college, so I figured I'd give them a fair shot at life and bring them here," you say, tears welling up in your eyes again as you swallow away the lump forming in your throat.

"Alright, I'll check them out, and you can wait in here for now. I'll be back within 20 minutes or so," the kind man says. You nod before turning around and sitting down, ready to update Tony. When you unlock your phone, you get his incoming call and pick up on the first ring.

"Hi, Sugar," Tony says as he sees your face, this time with fewer tears. Warmth spreads through his chest as you smile at him and greet him back. For a moment, everything is right with the world again.

"How's the kitten doing?"

"We found out it's a he. The vet took him for some exams, and he should be back in about 20 minutes, so... All I can do now is wait," you say with a shrug and an unconvincing smile. At this moment, Tony decides to stop everything he's doing, as he needs to be with you tonight. You may not ask for it outright, but he can tell you shouldn't be alone, at least not on the first night.

"Do you have a name for him?" he asks, and you nod.

"I'm thinking of calling him Moon. He's a beautiful pitch-black cat with the most stunning blue eyes, and the name really seems to fit him well," you say, a smile now tugging at the corners of your lips as you think about the little kitten.

"I can't wait to meet little Moon," Tony replies as he allows himself to sink back into his office chair. There's a comfortable silence between you two for a short moment, and neither of you feels the need to fill it. Eventually, you two make some small talk until the vet returns, and you have to say your goodbyes.

"How is he?" you ask as you quickly get up from your seat, your heart going a mile a minute right now. You reach out to the kitten, petting his head gently with the tip of your finger, and he feels so soft.

"He's surprisingly doing well. I think you found him not long after he was left, so apart from his hunger, there's nothing wrong with him. Over the next few weeks, you will need to bottle-feed him until he can start eating regular food, and I would like to see him once a week for the next three or four weeks to keep an eye on him," the vet says, and you nod in understanding.

"For now, I'll give you enough supplies to last you a day or two, but you need to get more soon," he says. With that, he shows you how to feed little Moon, and you're on your way home quickly. With Moon sitting comfortably in a carrying case in one hand and the supplies in your other hand, you go out the door and back to your car.

"It's time to go home, Little Moon. Are you excited?" you ask him, and he lets out a squeaky noise that resembles somewhat of a meow, making your heart race as you hear it. As you take off, you can't stop thinking that you have officially adopted a kitten and won't be as lonely anymore in your apartment.

"Welcome home, Moon!" you tell the little kitten as your front door swings open. The first thing you do after closing it again is put the carrier and supplies down on your dining room table so you can put on something a bit warmer. It's a good thing he's asleep in there right now, so you quickly grab one of Tony's old shirts and a pair of sweatpants, changing with lightning speed.

Your hair is put up in a messy bun, and you decide to trade your contacts for your glasses, which makes you feel even more comfortable, especially since you have quite a long night ahead of you.

The moment you're back in your dining room, you look inside the carrier, and he's awake again, which is perfect timing for feeding him. His bottle is prepared within no time, and you wrap him up in the softest blanket you could find, which has pink and yellow flowers on it.

Moon latches on to the bottle without a problem, his eyes curiously looking around as you feed him. Just before you have the chance to sit down, you hear a few knocks on your door, and you make your way over to see who's on the other side. As soon as you peek through the little peephole, you see it's Tony, so you take a step back to call out that it's open.

"Tony, what are you doing here?" you ask, surprised as he's holding a duffle bag in one hand and some food in the other. He made the educated guess you still needed to eat dinner, and he was right.

"I figured my Sugar could use some extra help now that you have a baby to take care of," he winks, and your cheeks warm at his words. He leans forward to place a soft peck on your lips, and you happily accept it as you smile into the kiss.

"Thank you for coming over; I cannot even begin to explain how much I appreciate it," you sigh, and he nods.

"So, this is Moon, huh?" Tony asks after putting down the bags he is holding, and you nod.

"It is. I have enough supplies to take care of him for a day or two, so I have to go out and buy more tomorrow. Luckily, the vet gave me a list of everything I could possibly need to make sure he's happy and healthy," you tell Tony, who's now carefully petting Moon between his ears.

"He's beautiful," Tony whispers, and you agree.

"How about this: You sit on the couch and continue feeding and loving the little guy, and I get you a plate of food? I have a hunch you haven't had dinner yet, and I could use some food as well," he says, to which you happily agree.

"That would be amazing right about now. Thank you, Tony," you say, sitting on the couch with your legs crossed, looking down at Moon with a broad smile.

Tony can't stop smiling as he prepares a plate for you both. As he takes in the way you look in a pair of sweatpants and his shirt, combined with your glasses and your hair up like this, he can't help but fall in love with you just a little more, and he knows he can't hide it much longer. But for now, he will have to keep to himself, as there are other priorities to take care of.

"Who's ready for some food?" Tony asks as he walks into the living room with two plates of food, and the smell immediately invades your senses. He got Chinese take-out, and it smells divine.

"I'll just go put him down for a bit in his carrier; he just fell asleep again after finishing his bottle, so I'll be right back," you tell Tony. Before you know it, he's in the carrying case you brought him home in, but you decide to take off the top so you can keep an eye on him.

"Alright, I believe it's time for dinner!" you say excitedly as you walk back into the living room. As you stand before the couch, Tony extends his hand, and you take it, only to be pulled onto his lap with a soft shriek.

"Now I can finally say a proper hello to you," he whispers before leaning in to kiss you, his hands lying on your hips while your hands are gliding through the hair on the nape of his neck, your nails softly scratching over his scalp.

Your lips glide against his effortlessly, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Your hearts match each other's rhythm as they speed up, and the moment is perfect. You're held by the man you love, and even though neither of you wants to admit it, you're both entirely sure about it.

You're both head over heels in love with one another.

During dinner, you and Tony watched a cheesy romantic comedy that happened to be on; even though neither of you paid too much attention to it—you were too busy teasing one another to even care about the movie—there were still a lot of laughs shared between you two over it.

"I can't believe people enjoy these movies, and even more so that people think a happily ever after like that exists," you sigh, thinking back to your awful past and why you moved to the other side of the country.

"I don't know, I quite like the idea of having a happily ever after with someone. To love someone so deeply that you would go to the end of the earth for them without a second thought. I guess I like the idea of having someone to grow old with and someone to come home to after a long day of work," he says, though his eyes are trained on the coffee table instead of looking at you.

"I mean, when you put it like that, I think I might want it as well, as long as it's with the right person," you say softly. You look at him from the corner of your eye, trying to see his reaction. His cheeks are turning a familiar pink tint, making you smile at his cuteness.

Without saying a word, Tony grabs your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, squeezing softly as his gaze is now focused on the TV again. You cuddle into his side more, your head leaning on his shoulder as you sigh softly.

Just as Tony has finally gathered the courage to tell you what's on his mind, your next alarm goes off, letting you know it's time to give Moon some medicine. It has to be given a few hours before he's fed again, so it's a good thing he's nearby. You can easily take care of him this way.

Reluctantly, you untangle your lips from Tony's and give him an apologetic smile as you get up. He also smiles at you, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes this time, and he's left with an empty feeling in his chest.

Moon is taking the medicine like an absolute champ, and before you know it, you're back on the couch with Tony, who has now wrapped his arm around you to pull you against his side, and your hand is tracing figures on his thigh as you're both watching another movie.

A shiver runs down your spine, and Tony pulls you closer to him, but to no avail.

"Tony? Can I maybe borrow your sweatshirt? I'm starting to get a little chilly over here," you ask, but he has a better plan.

"I brought you something even better," Tony says as he grabs a hoodie from his duffle bag. He wore it yesterday while working in his lab, so even though it's gotten a bit dirty, it smells like him, which you can never get enough of.

"Oh my god, thank you!" you say as you immediately slip it on. You pull Tony in for a hug, which he happily reciprocates. It feels good to be held by one another, and you two stay like that for a few minutes as you bury your nose in his neck.

"Thank you for being here, Tony. You didn't have to be, but I'm grateful you did," you tell him after you pull away. Your eyes look at his deep brown ones, and you can see a shimmer of happiness in them as he smiles.

"I know I didn't have to be, but I couldn't leave my girl alone after what happened," he tells you, and a deep red blush covers your cheeks. The thought of you being his girl makes you feel excited, but before you can say something stupid, you pull him into a kiss.

It started slowly at first, but when you moaned softly as he pulled you against him, Tony immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth. As you two explored each other's mouths for a while, you could feel yourself clenching around nothing, and he was also definitely getting aroused as well.

Just as Tony's hands wandered down your body and to the hem of the hoodie you were wearing, another alarm went off, but this time, it caught you both off-guard as you jumped apart.

"It's time for another feeding. Do you want to do the honors this time?" you ask, and he agrees after you give him a few more pecks.

"Alright," you say, and you get his bottle ready while Tony gets Moon ready, and he's all wrapped up in his little blanket. While Tony is feeding him, you take your time to snap some photos of Tony taking care of the black kitten, as it melts your heart, and you want to remember this moment for many years to come.

"Do you mind if I go take a shower? Now that you're here, I might as well make the most of the situation, especially after the rain earlier," you ask Tony after you've snapped enough photos to fill a few books.

"Course not, Sugar. You go take care of yourself, and I'll take care of him, okay?" Tony says softly, and you smile before turning around and heading towards your bathroom. As soon as you're in there, you grab a tight hold of the sink and suppress the scream that wants to leave your body.

Tony showing up for you like that and being so loving and sweet has the butterflies in your stomach in complete disarray, and you can't believe you have gotten so lucky as to have met someone like him. You thought you would never find love again after moving away, but he has shown you it's possible, and you're more than grateful for it.

The shower is quick but very refreshing as you finally get to wash away every last worry that has crept its way into your mind and body, making you refreshed and a little tired at the same time. The amount of relaxation you feel now is something you haven't felt in a long time, and you breathe a sigh of relief as a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

Once you're done, you slip into a comfortable pair of underwear, sweatpants, and Tony's hoodie, which you bring up to your nose as you take a whiff of his scent. It envelops you completely, and it feels like coming home after a long day.

As you walk back to the living room, you hear Tony talking to Moon, and you can't help but wait on the other side of the door, partially because you're curious about what he's saying and partially because you don't want to interrupt their conversation.

"You're very lucky to have an amazing Mommy like Sugar, you know that? She'll take amazing care of you and love you so much. And maybe one day I will be your Daddy as well, making us a big, happy family," Tony says with a soft sigh, the idea of you two being together forming more and more in his head.

"I'm already so in love with you, you know that? And with Sugar, too, but I don't want to admit it just yet—I don't even know if she likes me like that as well," he tells Moon, his voice trailing off near the end. If only he knew you had fallen head over heels for him as well.

After a few more moments, you swing open the door, and you see Tony cuddling with Moon in the blanket and his bottle empty on the table.

"How did he do?" you ask as you sit beside Tony. You both look at a sleepy Moon as he's curled up in the blanket's warmth combined with the heat of Tony's body.

"He ate like a champ, just finished his bottle, so I figured I'd cuddle with him for a bit so you could see him too. He's so cute when he's sleepy," Tony says as he looks at you with a fond expression.

"You're cute when you're sleepy, too," Tony says as a yawn escapes, and you can no longer hide your tiredness. It's already been a long day, and now that you have little Moon to take care of, staying awake is only getting more challenging, as it's all taking up so much of your energy.

"Do you want me to stay tonight, Sugar? I can help take care of Moon, so you won't have to get up every time," Tony offers.

"Oh no, that's okay, I don't mind," you quickly respond, but he shakes his head.

"I think it's best if I stay; you need your rest tonight as well,'' he tries again, and this time, you agree. Once Moon is done feeding, you carefully put him in his bed again before taking him to your bedroom so you can keep an eye on him if needed.

After you and Tony have gotten ready to sleep, he sits on his side of the bed, his legs spread and arm held out. Both of you are fully clothed, but that won't be for long if it's up to Tony.

"Let's get you out of these clothes, hmm?" he asks with a raised brow, and you agree. With a few swift motions, you're left in nothing but your bra and panties, and Tony can't help but place a few soft kisses on the exposed skin of your belly.

"So beautiful," he whispers as his hands glide over your thighs and the flesh of your butt, where he squeezes as well. A giggle escapes your lips as he does, and it doesn't take long for him to be left in nothing but his boxer briefs as well.

As you crawl into bed, you're quickly followed by Tony, who, instead of lying next to you, crawls over your body to cage you in with his large frame. His broad shoulders and thick thighs cover quite a large portion of your body, and you can't help but bite your lip at the thought.

"What's going on in that brain of yours, Sugar?" Tony asks as he noses along your jaw and neck before placing soft kisses over the column of your throat that have you moaning ever so softly.

"You."

"And what are you thinking about exactly?" he asks, and a deep red blush spreads over your cheeks again.

"How good it feels when you slide that thick, delicious monster of a cock inside my tight, warm pussy," you whisper, and his eyes go wide at your words. With those words, Tony doesn't take long to do just that.

Your legs are spread perfectly for him as he gets comfortable between them, his bare cock resting on your thigh as he takes his time with your nipples first. Tugging and suckling on them to pull soft moans from you is one of his favorite activities, and he can spend hours doing just that.

When he's had his fill, and he's happy with how red and perky they are, he lets his hand glide to his cock, which he pumps up and down a few times before lining up with your entrance and pushing in every so slowly.

Your breaths mingle with every soft and careful thrust, your moans becoming one as he bottoms out, and your bodies working in a perfect rhythm together as you both roll your hips together. Your hands are linked above your head while Tony kisses you softly, and this moment feels nothing short of perfect.

Making love to the man you love is the best feeling in the world, and falling over the edge at the same time while your foreheads are connected has never felt more intimate. The way your pussy clenches around his cock, milking him for everything he's worth, has never felt this good, and neither of you ever wants to stop.

Neither of you wants this moment to end while you're wrapped in your little bubble. There is not a single care in the world, just you, him, and your love. Once Tony's finished inside you, he pulls out to clean both of you up, grabs some fruit from your fridge, and comes back to bed to be close to you again.

"Here, eat this so you can regain some of your strength again," he whispers, followed by a kiss on your forehead. You happily munch on the sweet fruits as you're cuddled against his side.

"I still can't believe you adopted a little kitten today," he suddenly says with a chuckle, making you laugh, too. This was not part of your plan at the start of your day, but at the same time, you wouldn't want it any other way.

"Neither can I, but despite finding him in a little box, it has been a good day. Meeting Moon has been the highlight of my day, and all we can do now is hope for more good days," you say, to which Tony agrees.

"As long as all three of us have each other, I think every day is great, Sugar. And maybe, some of them may even turn into perfect days if we're really lucky," Tony tells you, and you nod in agreement.

After that, it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep, and the first time your alarm goes off to give Moon his medicine, Tony gets up so you can get some more sleep.

"It's okay, Sugar. I got him," he whispers as he kisses your forehead.

"Thank you, Tony, for everything," you tell him, and he smiles at you in response. After another soft kiss, he gets up to help Moon, who is still asleep in the blanket he was wrapped up in. The medicine is administered quickly, and Tony's back in bed with you before you know it.

Your head is on his chest, your hand covers his arc reactor, and your leg is draped over his. This is something you can get used to and something you will look forward to in the future as well.

[imtryingbuck]

fluff - △ angst - ◯ Dividers by me🤍

➳ I’m sorry ◯

➳ He doesn’t know ◯

➳ Home △

[ghostfacd]

IN A WORLD FULL OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. despite being in a world filled of childish boys, your boyfriend was definitely a gentleman, always putting you before him

AUTHORS NOTE. the third installment because we love tom blyth and yn avocot. I recommend reading part 1 and 2 for more context!

tomblyth “babe, do you think we’re together in every universe?” is that even a question?

tagged @/ynuser

view all comments

ynuser stoppp i didn’t know youd actually take the question seriously

user1 get you a man like tom blyth bc oh my god

user2 idk what yn did to manifest him but i need her ways

user3 ugh idk what he’s doing with her lol he could do so much better

➥ user4 well someone had to say it..

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

You didn’t understand how some people on the internet can be so . . . mean. Although there have been countless of fans cheering you and Tom on, it didn’t make it any less hurtful that there were still a ton who weren’t scared to be open about how much your boyfriend could do better.

It’s ironic; you think. They’re claiming they’re looking out for Tom, yet totally disregarding him and his girlfriend as human beings? Those weren’t real fans.

The reason for them hating you so much? Just for simply being with Tom. Everybody wanted him, that was your crime.

Everytime you got lost in your thoughts about this topic, Tom knew. Boyfriend instincts, he called them, but really, he was just a caring and observant person.

You tried not to break down over it, you really did, but a girl could only go on for so long before it all bursts out. Luckily, Tom pulls you right in, telling you to let it all out.

Although the world was filled with childish and hurtful beings, Tom Blyth was still who he was, a gentleman, attending to your every needs.

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

tomblyth really dgaf if you like my girlfriend or not cause i do and that’s all that matters

view all comments

user5 im cryinf the polaroid he has of her

user6 YES REAL MEN STAND UP FOR THEIR GFS

user7 ALL THE PICS HE HAS OF HER 🥹🥹

tomblythswife oh to be yn avocot and be loved by tom blyth

rachelzegler tell ‘em 🙊

user8 she doesn’t even comment on the posts he makes abt her, so self centered lol

➥ ynuser I’m right next to him rn?? cant say the same thing about you “lol”

➥ user9 OH SHE ATE YOU UP @/user8

tomblyth_daily here are some clips of tom talking about his relationship in his new interview! GET YOU A MAN THATS LIKE TOM BLYTH 🗣️🗣️🗣️

view all comments

user10 the way he’s so passionate when talking about her and being a good boyfriend, God I hate being single

user11 “they’re not even that cute” STFU AND GO WATCH THIS INTERVIEW CAUSE ??

user12 tom blyth said put aside your nonchalant attitudes, im looking at YOU MEN 🫵🫵

ilovetomblyth he’s so boyfriend it actually hurts

user13 yn must’ve saved a continent in her past life to be dating tom blyth omg

ynuser girls, before you have a meltdown over a boy: think of what balleona laurent would do. kiss and manipulate coriolanus!

view all comments

tomblyth you kiss and manipulate me too

➥ ynuser you’re gonna get me CANCELLED

user14 literal unbothered icon i love her

user15 if i were her id post a tiktok with that audio “he chose me he don’t want you”

iloveyn SHES SO FUNNY

lionsgate us when behind the scenes photo of balleona 😻

➥ user16 lmao stop who’s the admin of lionsgate

user17 balleona is such a bad person but oh is she hot

tomblyth she was like a shot of espresso

tagged @/ynuser

view all comments

ynuser i love u more than words can describe blyth

user18 ok who’s cutting onions

user19 GIRLS, GUYS, THEY THEMS, STOP SETTLING FOR BARE MINIMUM WHEN TOM BLYTH LITERALLY CALLED HIS GF A SHOT OF ESPRESSO, GIVES HER FLOWERS EVERYDAY, AND TALKS ABT HER ALL THE TIME IN HIS INTERVIEWS

➥ user20 YELL IT HARDER SISTER 👐👐👐

user21 this is so dark academica im inlove with u guys

user22 parentssss

rachelzegler my favorites

ynuser SNOW LANDS ON TOP LOSERS

view all comments

tomblyth yn, i love you but

➥ user23 LMFAOO when he doesn’t finish his sentence

user24 the second pic thank u yn

joshandresrivera on top of u maybe

➥ user25 IM DYING OML

user26 thank you to lionsgate for casting the most hottest villain couple ever

[lokilaufeysonslove]

Tony: *dramatically* I am Iron Man

Y/n: Actually, you’re more like aluminum foil.

Tony: Why do you always have to make me feel so small?

Y/n: Because you're the one who's always trying to save the world, while I'm just trying to save my sanity.

[paradiseinternet]

I Hate Tony Stark: Chapter Two

pairing: Tony Stark x Soulmate!Reader

word count: 4.5k

triggers: death (mentioned, not detailed), childhood trauma, poverty, out-of-body-experience, swearing.

author's note: hope ya enjoy the update.

also posted on ->

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/158293111?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_860724604

Chapter Two: Not the Best Birthday Ever

Naturally you were seething with anger. However, this anger only got worse as a second later had you spat out his name, did the very words ink into your skin. There, on the inner part of your left wrist, was the name Tony Stark. Taunting. Laughing. Pointing. You can’t recall if the tattoo had hurt, your boiling hatred was enough of a numbing agent. Something you noticed later was the way it was written. It was not a typical print but instead seemed to follow the characteristics of (what you presumed to be) his handwriting.

            Immediately following the print of his name on your wrist had you felt a light shock of electricity. The kind that told you that it came from the inside, and somehow communicated that the same feeling was sent to him. However, if this is anything like the SIA that you’re familiar with, a name is only printed onto the skin of the one who said the name. As in, he doesn’t know your name because he hasn’t said it, but he knows you know who he is.

            Nevertheless, these events are in the past and when you turned 18 you had a few things that needed to be done. First, you needed to arrange your mother’s funeral because she had recently passed away. Unknown to you, after a soul break the average lifespan of the surviving soulmate is decreased significantly and the survivor only lives for about two more years. Because of this, her health had been deteriorating rapidly resulting in you needing to get a job to help pay for the costs she was no longer able to afford. The government gave your mother a tax-free stipend of $100,000 as reimbursement for the death of your father, but that money was quickly put towards medical bills as your mother started to frequent the hospital as time went on. As bills began to increase, so did the number of hours you put in. It got to the point that you dropped out of high school at 17 to get another job just to afford everything.

            The second thing on your list was to find new accommodation. You had decided that it was necessary to move as far away from Tony Stark as you could; so, New York was going to become your new home. Without a mother or father, nor any social life to speak of, it was high time to change your life and try to start anew.

            Finally, you made a promise to yourself to become better off than what your parents were. If you were to have any children to take care of in the future, you’d make sure they’d never ask for less on any holiday because of a financial burden.

            Your goals were obtainable and within reach, it would just take a bit of time.

            A few months after burying your mother you found yourself stepping out of the airport into New York. Coming prepared, you had already found a small studio apartment that would be called home until something more fitting was found. In the meantime, and one taxi later, you held the keys as you stepped into one of the cheapest rooms you could get your hands on. The floorboards squeaked almost as much as your neighbor’s bed every day late in the evening. The paint was peeling at the edges and bloated in some areas holding what you hoped to be runoff water. As for the ceiling, it was marked with occasional water damage and off-white splotches. This place was not nice, but you came from a life of not-nice things.

            It only took about a week to find a job, then another few days for an additional job. Many occupations required a high school diploma, so a GED was put onto your list of things you needed to do. For now, you were at the bottom of the barrel working as a barista full-time and pizza delivery driver part-time. Again, not ideal but at least you’re alive.

            You’d gotten into a groove of working and sleeping while somehow making time for studying for your GED. Getting the certificate didn’t take much time considering you were already good at school, the long part was just refreshing your memory and dealing with the New York state government. It was when you were about 19 years old had you received your GED, and in the meantime, you also managed to move into a nicer studio apartment in Queens (previously you had been living on the outskirts of New York City, which isn’t exactly known for being the safest). This new location at least didn’t have peeling paint, and no frisky neighbors were an added bonus. Also, since you now had a GED, your employer at the barista job was willing to pay more with the possibility of becoming manager. So now you only need to work one job. Things were looking up! You hadn’t even really thought about your mistake of a soulmate, at least not until you turned 22.

            Being 22 was apparently lucky, at least that was according to your coworker Trish. She was a bit superstitious and tended to become erratic, but otherwise she seemed sane. One day after asking for your age and replying with how you were almost 22, she had a grin grow on her freckled face as her hazel eyes seemed to shine under the coffeehouse ceiling light. Allegedly the numbers 2 and 2 together are incredible special and signify that big dreams were about to come true. Considering you didn’t really have any big dreams, other than hoping for the miracle of sleeping in, you brushed her off.

            Trish’s superstition, however, almost seemed viable when the news station began to release another round of new information. The little box TV was situated in the corner of the coffee bar so that both customers and employees could indulge in the latest information heap. This latest spill seemed to be about, you guessed it, none other than Tony Stark. Your mouth turned sour at the thought of such an evil man. So, he recognized his wrongs and changed his company entirely, so what? Your father is still dead, and no amount of philanthropy (or “hero” work) will change that. But the TV wasn’t discussing the latest scandalous acts of the billionaire, instead announcing his decision to re-instate something called a “Stark Expo” which would begin in roughly a month.

            What made you begin to believe Trish was how the playboy held himself. To the average person he looked fine, but something inside you said he was in pain. He was dying. And so, unsure whether to be uninterested or worried, you chose to ignore the footage they were playing from his announcement. Afterall, if we was dying, that means your days are numbered. You can’t do anything about his soon-to-be demise, and you weren’t planning on trying. Afterall, you ha—

            Wait, what did the news just say?

            “Hey, uh, Trish?” You called out to your sporadic coworker, anxiously adjusting the watch covering the fated soulmate name on your left wrist.

            There wasn’t a response which resulted in you looking towards a customer instead. There in front of you was a man who could’ve been mistaken for Kris Kringle, looking half-attentively at the TV.

            “Excuse me, sir,” you directed at Santa.

            He turned his attention to you and nodded his head in acknowledgment.

            “Do you recall where exactly the Stark Expo will be held?” You asked. “They just said, but I missed it.”

            “Flushing Meadows,” he said softly—perhaps this was old saint nick.

            You nodded in thanks as your mouth went dry.

‘Flushing Medows is in Queens,’ you reminded yourself. Even living in the state for about four years now, it still took time to remember all the subdivisions and boroughs inside New York City.

            No need to panic, this isn’t something you can’t handle. Sure, you live in Queens; but Queens is still large and if you take the day off you should be fine. Besides, when was the last time you stayed home and did nothing? Sounded relaxing to be honest.

            To clarify, this system you’ve worked out isn’t new. If you had gotten wind that the playboy was visiting Queens specifically, you’d effectively take the time off. However, he would typically spend his time in the heart of New York city and Manhattan. So, since he frequented the location so much, it would be expensive for you to take so much time off. Granted, if you had known that the billionaire came to New York so much you would’ve picked a different state, but nothing has happened so far. It’s more cost effective to stay put than move again.

            Typically your boss desired a reason for taking time off, and with your birthday coming up in a month, why not celebrate it this year? Granted, you couldn’t throw a party because you had no one (other than coworkers) to invite. But sometimes the best things are enjoyed individually.

            With the plan formulated, you informed your boss of your actions as everything moved into place.

            Finally, your birthday. As a present to yourself (and an expensive one at that), you had decided to take the whole week off. Might as well, right?

            The actual expo would last the entire year, but you had a hinting suspicion that the man himself would show up some time during the first week of launch—very typical for any orchestrator of events. Even if it was just a hunch, you were not willing to take the risk. Instead, you were huddled up in some blankets and eating ice cream on your second-hand bed/mattress while watching your favorite TV show. Your TV wasn’t anything special, just something you found on the side of the road with the word “FREE” on it. Maybe it was laced with cocaine or had human remains splattered on it, but free is free. Actually, a lot of your possessions were free. Since you rented a studio apartment the living room and bedroom became one, so you had to get creative with decorating. In the center of the room was a small coffee table that was given to you by another coworker who just didn’t want it anymore. Majority of your pots and pans come from the dumpster of a restaurant you pass by every day (that was a good day). Your bed (which currently lacked sheets) was bought from a local thrift shop and pillows from a nearby donation center (technically those are donations to the thrift shop, but it was just out in the open begging to be snatched). Your form of warmth came in the variety of blankets and hoodies gifted to you for holidays and previous birthdays. To save money you keep the apartment at a brisk 60 degrees Fahrenheit, so having many ways to warm yourself up was necessary. Thankfully you lived on the sixth floor, so as heat rises, so does your happiness.

Suddenly in the distance you heard some fireworks go off, most likely a signal to the rest of the city that the expo is live. Uninterested, you continued to binge your show for at least another hour, content with the discounted ice cream you found in the store earlier that day. That was until you heard sirens go by your apartment. This wasn’t unusual . . . except for when several other emergency services were following quickly behind.

Was there a fire nearby?

Glancing out the window you looked to take a glance at any orange light nearby, only to notice there was a lot of noise coming from the direction of the open building that the Stark expo was supposed to be held at. Outside there is what seemed to be tiny, self-driving fireworks almost circling the area of the event. Unable to properly make out what was going on, you deciding to pick up the remote and change channels until you find the news station. When finally getting onto what seemed to be a news report, you quickly discover that the expo was hijacked, rouge military robots were attacking everything (which was not the self-driving fireworks you initially thought), and somehow Iron Man was at the heart of it all.

            “Yeah, fuck that,” you mumbled while getting out of bed.

            Grabbing a backpack, you made the executive decision that you were a little too close to the chaos that followed Tony Stark and perhaps a motel a few miles out would be more suffice.

            Only packing the essentials one would need for a single night, you then made your way outside of the studio and towards the bus stop right across from your apartment. It was already dark outside and so it wasn’t exactly the smartest to be going out, but when facing a possible bump-in with a crook or an encounter with Loverboy, you decided to press your luck.

After hoping on the mostly empty bus, you paid for your fare then rode it for twenty-two stops (the irony). The entire time you tried not to touch anything because who knows what this bus has gone through.

Soon you arrived at something like a Best Western Hotel but if it was a secret brothel. When walking inside you were met with an interior that wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be. When looking up motels nearby in a catalog, this one was cheap but only had two stars. Deep inside you found some humor because your brain formulated the idea of discolored carpet and orange-floral wallpaper, but the lobby wasn’t anything close to that. Instead, there was hard-wood flooring, painted walls, and the occasional house plant.

In front of you was a woman who seemed to not of noticed your entrance. Her hair was frizzly and blonde while her face looked to mirror the makeup style of the 80s. As you walked closer you saw a cigarette between her red lipstick-stained lips. Smoking indoors is most certainly not allowed, but you didn’t exactly look for a 5-star hotel, did you?

After making your presence known you then purchased the cheapest room of the night. The woman was completely uninterested but could at least do her job. In her eyes, she kind of reminded you of yourself—tired and barely getting by. Then again, isn’t that most of the citizens in New York City?

She handed you your key (which was suspiciously sticky) and you made your way up the stairs. Many places have elevators nowadays, but that doesn’t mean these older buildings have the same pleasure. So you made your way up nine stories and by the time you reached the top you were ready to fall over.

Jiggling the key into the keyhole you grasped the handle and pulled back like the lady instructed. Apparently, some of the locks get jammed and this was the only remedy. Like magic the key twisted, and the door opened.

That’s when you laughed. Sure, the lobby didn’t look retro, but this room sure did. The exact thought of discolored carpet and orange-floral wallpaper came to fruition inside this room. In fact, it even smelled ancient. If a chain-smoker had been living here for the past decade you’d believe it.

The bed looked innocent enough (even though you were skeptical of bedbugs), so you laid your backpack on it and pulled out your pajamas. Soon after you found yourself in the bathroom that looked to come straight out of The Shinning. Seriously, it was like a miniature version of the film’s bathing room—which made you uneasy. Spending as little time as possible inside the off-putting room, you took a shower and got your nightgown on. The nightgown was modest and was the color of baby blue. It hugged the cuffs of your wrist and ended mid-calve. Thankfully, you expected the floor to be a little suspicious, so you pulled out the fluffy socks from your backpack and put them on.

At the end of your nightly routine you found yourself sitting at the windowsill of the hotel room, gazing at the general direction of the expo. Your mind was running particularly fast. About what, you hadn’t a clue; it was like your brain was on steroids and you could think of a million better things to do than sleep.

            All things considered; this is actually not the worst birthday you’ve had. Sure, running from your soulmate isn’t exactly a pleasant pastime, but it sure does beat turning 16 only for two weeks later your father to die because of your soulmate . . . then your mother to die because your soulmate killed your father. In the grand scheme of things, life isn’t great but at least you’re not dead. At least, you question how long that’ll last when suddenly multiple large-scale bombs detonated and created an expansion of fire near the Stark expo.

Your view from the ninth story of a non-brothel made your jaw hit the floor in shock. Perhaps your slightly erratic choice of moving further away wasn’t insane, but your intuition.

He’s not dead, you know this for certain because your heart doesn’t ache from a soul break. Instead, you believe your increased heartbeat was due to being so close to something so dangerous. Unsure of what else to do other than gawk, you made your move away from the window. Perhaps the less you knew, the better. Everything that this night has given you can be re-thought in the morning after a night of restful sleep.

            Moving to bed you begin to feel your wrist burn—the one with his name on it.

            His name being on your wrist is rather strange; after all, it signifies that you have not one, but two SIAs. Anyone having more than one isn’t common. The first would be the SIA dubbed “In My Shoes” (not your choice in title, that’s just what the GSRA calls it) and the other is “Say My Name.” The second isn’t too harmful (at least in terms of your purpose of never meeting the man) and was most likely the one given to you at birth or one you inherited from him, but the first one is a reason for concern. You haven’t been living in anxiety because of it, however it does loom in the back of your mind. “In My Shoes” is often systematic but how often it occurs isn’t known until it happens a second time. It’s been six years and there’s a good chance that it is a one-off soul aid, which isn’t unhear of.

            Back on task you began to rub your wrist in hopes of soothing it. It wasn’t even a few seconds of trying to remedy the burn, when suddenly you felt like you were falling. Your eyes closed in an attempt to not only ground yourself, but to get rid of the feeling. Then, as quickly as it would be to blink your eyes, you opened them to something that wasn’t there a moment ago.

It was a woman with blonde hair and a well-matched lipstick to her black pencil dress. She had bangs that stuck slightly to the sweat of her forehead as she used both hands to convey a stress you didn’t understand. By the looks of it, she was talking, but her words only began to have meaning when you decided to tune in.

“—kill yourself or-or-or wreck the whole company!” She had yelled in frustration, continuing her rant with little mind to what you were doing.

Confusion laced your features at the odd word choice as you attempted to figure out what was going on. Did you know this woman? Did she know you?

You felt exhausted, sweaty, and out of breath. You’ve never run a marathon (never had the time), but this must’ve been what it felt like.

Taking in your surroundings you noticed you were on top of a roof. Not just any roof, but one that was a lot closer to the Stark Expo than you were a moment ago. Now you’re even more confused; how can this be possi—oh yeah, right.

Looking down you saw your body covered in a roughed-up red and yellow piece of metal. It certainly didn’t take a genius to figure out that the “In My Shoes” aid had taken affect. Definitely not at a good time, but was there ever a good time?

‘Fuck my life, man,’ you tiredly thought to yourself.

Trying to gather your thoughts you decided it was best too—did she stop talking? Opening your eyes after subconsciously closing them, you saw her looking at you.

Something in your brain shifted in place as you paused then tentatively asked, “Did I say that out loud?”

She nodded.

Yep, not the worst birthday ever, but it might just make it to spot number three.

A moment of silence passed both of you as words were exchanged between the intense eye contact. Then, before she could say anything, a voice to the left of you said, “You’re not Tony.”

The lady seemed to jump in her skin, equally surprised by the new voice on the roof. Looking towards the source of the statement you saw a man wearing a similar iron body of armor sitting on top of something metal. He seemed to look as tired as you felt.

“Uhh . . .” you quietly muttered, trying to formulate some type of a response.

The woman beside you seemed to almost snicker in realization, “Definitely not Tony.”

“He would’ve had something sarcastic to say by now,” the man added, seeming to continue the woman’s train of thought.

Baffled by the ease of flow in conversation between the two people, you tried to rack your brain to figure out who these individuals are. The one sitting down you may’ve seen on the news, but this other lady was only vaguely familiar.

“My name is Pepper Pots, but Pepper is just fine,” the woman introduced herself, seemingly reading your mind.

Ah, there we go, she was that chick who was almost always by Tony’s side (apart from the models that hung on his arms). There was skepticism that she was his secret lover, but other than that bit of gossip, you hadn’t paid much attention. After all, why keep track of someone’s love life when you have no intent in being a part of it?

Out of instinct you reached out your hand to shake hers and replied, “My name is—”

You stopped before you said anything revealing; then, before you could recoil your metal-covered hand, she took it while saying, “Don’t worry about it. You haven’t come for him after all these years, so I think I get the idea.”

A small smile appeared on your face in appreciation for at least one person to understand without knowing the full story. One time someone asked if you had a soulmate. At the time you decided to be truthful and answer with a simple ‘yes’. Then they started to ask more questions, and by that time you were already in deep, so you had to explain that you willingly chose to stay away from him. They got frustrated and almost mad at your choice. Again, you do not hold a popular perspective on how to approach soulmates. It got particularly scary one time when someone caught a vague glimpse of the “Say My Name” aid and felt inclined to ask about it. At this point you had learned from previous encounters, so you would just tell them it was a ‘trick of the light’ and that you don’t have a soulmate.

Early on you learned that convincing others of a lie is easier than admitting the truth.

“I’m curious,” pried the man on the side. He was sarcastically raising his hand (if that analogy was even possible). “Why haven’t you made contact? Tony said he’d given you his address.”

Here it is, the questions. Except this time it’s not going to be as simple as ‘I don’t have a soulmate.’ These people know who Tony is and you are the only one who can do this body exchange.

Pepper chimed in, “I’m also curious. He was so excited about finding out you existed that by the time he got his mind straight, the only thing he could do was write down an address.”

How innocent, this line of questioning. These people seemed so kind, completely contrasting the allies you’d think Tony would’ve made. It almost implored you to give them the whole story, but something inside you said it would be best to just keep it short. The truth didn’t work well in the past, and the less they know, the harder it is to find you.

Licking your lips, you tasted that strong flavor on his tongue again, just like last time. Similarly, it wasn’t great and reminded you of a bad aftertaste that wouldn’t go away. However, now as an adult, you recognized that aftertaste to be some form of liquor. Alcohol never really tickled your fancy, the substance not tasting too great and being an unnecessary cost was enough of an incentive to ward you away.

How depressing, you’ll need to give these two intrigued individuals a condensed version of your store. And if they are his friends, as you suspect they are, they’re going to turn around and tell him the moment you get back into your body. Then again, maybe this is for the best. Perhaps he will get the hint. So, looking up at these people and trying your best to keep a steady tone, you said without a batted breath, “To be honest, I hate Tony Stark.”

Just like that, the water gates have been busted open. You haven’t ever told anyone your opinions of the man, and certainly not with this kind of context. However, without even seeing their reaction, you blinked, and the scenery changed again. This time you stood in the lobby of the motel with the hardwood floor beneath your fuzzy socks. How did he get down all nine flights of stairs so quickly? If he was trying to get outside, he obviously failed, which did comfort you knowing he was unable to spot any street signs. The only downside will be the journey back up.

Glancing around, you saw the frizzy-haired receptionist from before in front of you looking mildly curious about your antics.

“So, is that everything you needed?” She asked with a lack-luster tone.

Confused, you looked at her for a sign as to what she was talking about, only to feel one of your hands holding onto something. Looking down, you saw a rectangular piece of paper which you held up to your face and analyzed.

It was a business card from the motel. The front displayed the company name, phone number, and address. It was then that the printer in your brain began to print out a new message:

This business card has an address and 22 is not a lucky number.