Prompt Post #1

[mcumod]

Welcome to the brand spanking new MCU Kink Meme!


Rules in brief:

- All comments must be anonymous.
- Post with a subject line indicating character or pairing and prompt content (eg. Character/Character; prompt keyword). Mark your fills.
- This kink meme is Choose Not to Warn. You're not required to warn for content or spoilers, but may do so at your own discretion.
- RPF is allowed.
- Crossovers are welcome.
- No embeds, prompt-hijacking, or negative comments. Mod retains the right to freeze or delete unfunny and unrelated business.

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Have fun prompting and filling!

Comments

Scott Lang (gen or /Luis); anorexia

[(Anonymous)]

Scott has battled with anorexia most of his life. Sometimes he has it under control, sometimes it has control of him. When trying to earn some money for child support and working as Ant Man at the same time he has a flare up. Would love Cassie being a badass when everyone is trying to hide it from her.

Post-Thanos finger snap / DCU crossover

[(Anonymous)]

The snap did not kill off half the MCU, but dumped our heroes into the DC universe instead. Some may be looking for a way back home. Others may be trying to make a new home at this new place.

Pepper/Tony mpreg

[(Anonymous)]

The reality stone knocks Tony up with Pepper's baby. Or honestly any other wacky science you can think of that results in Tony pregnant with Pepper's baby. I can just see Tony alternating between angsting the hell out and being proud as a peacock of his growing bump.

Thor/Loki/Valkyrie/Bruce sedoretu

[(Anonymous)]

The crew decides the best way to protect Loki from Earth justice is to get him married to an(other) Asgardian, but Earth has sedoretus, so Loki, Thor, Val, and Bruce end up getting married.

Bruce is the one Earther trying to explain how this group marriage thing is supposed to work. Thor and Loki are bad at not violating the inter-moeity taboo. Val secretly loves having people again, even if she's not always sure she wanted THESE people. Or whatever you want, honestly, I just want this premise.

Nebula/Gamora, their first time is post-GotG1 or later

[(Anonymous)]

First-time sex, GotG or later, hot and maybe angsty and definitely full of ambiguously sisterly feelings! :D

Peter/Gamora/Drax

[(Anonymous)]

Maybe dancing isn't as total a turnoff as Drax says it is.

FILL: Peter/Gamora/Drax

[(Anonymous)]

So I've hit a wall writing the actual Peter/Gamora/Drax scene, but here's a fun bit I got for Drax realizing that he wants to dance. Anyone that wants to add to this is welcome!

-

Woken by a disturbing dream, Drax seeks out Mantis in the living areas of their ship. Though he normally considers her tiny and repulsive, he thinks her antennas may be useful in dispelling his night visions. When he does not find her waiting he growls and goes instead to her bunk. She sleeps curled in a ball like a slimy larvae, and were he not a tough and resilient man he doubts he could have withstood the horror of her appearance. But fortune smiles on him this night, and he is able to swallow his vomit without expelling all over her.

He does however make a grotesque noise, and Mantis startles awake.

"Drax?" Mantis gasps, her ugly mouth squishing into an unappealing pout. Her unsettling large eyes look down his substantial, handsome body. "Do you need something?"

"My brain has been poisoned with impure thoughts. I need you to cure me."

Mantis sits up, her antennas drooping.

"Cure? You wish me to banish your thoughts?"

"Oh yes, that would be most helpful." Drax says, sitting beside her.

"Which thoughts?"

Drax clenches his jaw and readies himself to speak the awful truth. He knew it would come to this, but it is a brave task to admit it. Fortunately he is might and fear is not in his nature.

"For three nights I have awoken with my nethers engorged." he says earnestly. "And when I recall my dream I see myself dancing. Wiggling and gyrating in a most repugnant display."

"Oh." Mantis says, leaning away from him. As she should. He is diseased.

"So you see, I must be cured before this affliction spreads." Drax says, dropping his voice into a scandalized whisper. "The effects would be devastating on a weaker man such as Quill. I am certain he would not survive."

"That does sound serious." Mantis nods, wide eyes. She holds out her hand as if to touch. “May I?”

There are few things in the universe which make Drax’s skin crawl. Mind control. Unripe fruit. The thought of how much sperm must be invisible but present in any inhabited body of water. Mantis’ disturbingly soft hand touching his voluminous bicep is one of them. But needs must, this is a matter of great importance. He steels himself against the roll of his stomach and sits still for the bug woman.

Her face turns impossibly more pale.

“Oh dear.” she says with her eyes closed in concentration. Her antennae glow in the dim room, and she retracts her hand.

Thinking himself cured, Drax tries to remember the cursed dream and shudders when his brain retrieves the images with even more clarity and eagerness.

He can hear it, the beating rhythm of Quill’s Earth music and the hypnotic sway of Gamora’s womanly flank. She is worthy of admiration, her shapely rump as suited to gore and bloodshed as it is to impassioned rutting. He can see her in his mind’s eye, bouncing and shaking, her belt heavy with ammunition and poison gas cartridges. His member is almost half as intrigued by her as it was by his late wife and that is a great feat indeed.

“What is wrong? Why do I still see the visions?”

Mantis’s face pinches into something he thinks more befitting of an injured pet than him.

“This is no curse, Drax, it is only your repressed sexual desires.”

It takes a moment for him to understand. “Repressed” is not a word in his people’s tongue. Only cowards hide from the truth and he is no coward. Once he reminds himself of the meaning, he barks out a wolfish laugh.

“That is ridiculous!” he bellows, deeply amused by the foolish girl’s erroneous conclusion. “I would never wish to dance of my own volition.”

“You do not wish to dance...but you are aroused by your dreams?” Mantis asks. Even as he crosses his arms and opens his mouth to deny it, the images assault him again.

Gamora in the galley of the ship, swaying to the simpering melody and rubbing herself indecently on Quills’ weak, pathetic form. His blood boils, for surely he would be a more pleasing post to hump. His muscles are thick and manly, his skin a rougher texture that would give more friction. He is an ideal specimen, so much so that he would understand if Quill wanted to join them. How better to improve his sad and ineffectual lovemaking than by studying under a tutor—or perhaps over. Drax would not want to squish him with his superior physique.

“You are!” Mantis says, her touch drawing forcefully from his fantasy with a shudder of revulsion.

“Stop that!”

“You are like Master Ego–” Mantis continues, her eyes wide as a bemused smile craws over her face.

“Like what?”

“You have a fetish!” she declares, pointing at his face and laughing freely. “You want to be a filthy, pathetic dancer like Quill!”

“Do not mock me.” Drax stands, affronted, and Mantis sobers. With deep breaths she contains her laugher and gives him the injured pet look again.

“There is nothing wrong with having a fetish! Many people do. Many, many people. Whips, feet, double penetration, bondage. Master Ego wished to urinate on his lovers.” Mantis says, sitting on her knees. “I do not understand these things well, but dancing does not seem so crude.”

She says it like a question, and he surmises that she is trying to lessen the blow. Her deference scorns him, but it is unkind to harm someone for delivering bad news. He refrains, instead clenching his fists and stomping to the door.

“My people commonly urinate on one another as a display of ownership. Is this not usual?” Drax blinks, then shakes his head. “Do not answer that. I do not think I want to know.”

“I’m sorry I cannot take the thoughts away. I tried for Ego, but the mind will only replace them with others.”

Gritting his teeth, he stops in the door hatch and forces himself to turn back.

“There is nothing to be sorry about. You related to me all the information your insubstantial powers can glean. Since there is no way to improve your smell or appearance, you have done all you can.”

“Okay.” Mantis nods, crawling back under her covers. “Good night, Drax.”

“Good night.” he replies.

The door closes, and he sighs. He will just have to practice being invisible as he had during his youth. It was been a long while, but perhaps if he reclaims the skill he can indulge the urges without revealing his true perversity. Yes, that is an excellent plan. Once he has given his confused manhood what it wants, he will surely be back to normal and no one need know a thing about it.

Quill and Gamora are not shy about dancing, he surely will not have to wait long. And when he does he will stroke himself to completion and that will be that.

Heimdall/Thor

[(Anonymous)]

Heimdall takes care of his king. Feelsy sex involving whatever kinks you like!

Valkyrie/any, genital piercings

[(Anonymous)]

Something that didn't make it into the old murals was that the Valkyrie were big on genital piercings. Someone is very appreciative of Val's. :D

Re: Valkyrie/any, genital piercings--FILL Valkyrie/f!Loki

[(Anonymous)]

“I can see why the Einherjar did not continue the tradition,” Loki comments, her breath puffing warm-cool over the bare skin of Valkyrie’s inner thigh. “The nine rings are to symbolize the Nine Realms?” she asks, as she scrutinizes the twin rows of four small, golden rings on each side of Valkyrie’s labia, crowned by a larger torque-like ring above them threaded horizontally across her clitoral hood. “No, I do not see the runes for all nine of the Realms represented.”

“Originally they were to represent a battle fought bravely on each of the Nine,” Valkyrie says, tilting her head back against the headboard. The ceiling of the refugee ship was bland enough to not bring back unnecessary memories. “But seeing as Bor had already slaughtered Svartalfheim before I was born, by the time I joined the ranks, the rings simply stood for nine great battles fought and valor won. Every Valkyrie was given her first piercing after she finished training and was initiated into the ranks; the rest had to be earned.”

“And the first piercing was Asgard, to rule over the rest,” Loki reasons correctly, voice wry. There’s only a faint rustle of the sheets in warning as Loki scoots closer and takes the first ring between her lips, tugging gently.

“Hey!” Valkyrie protests, as Loki’s clever mouth closes over her clit and sucks, a long, steady pressure that ends with the tip of Loki’s tongue pressing firmly up against the underside of her clitoris, while the ring, trapped somewhere against Loki’s teeth and the roof of her mouth, presses just as firmly down. It makes a deep ache throb higher between her legs, lower than Loki’s mouth, and she hisses in both disappointment and relief when Loki pulls back. “Do you want to hear about this or not?”

“I’ve been tasked with recording and preserving Asgard’s history,” Loki says, peering up at Valkyrie through dark lashes with her best innocent expression. Her hair is loose and mussed about her shoulders, and the way she’s half crouched, half kneeling, fully, gloriously bare between Valkyrie’s spread thighs only makes the ache of arousal increase in intensity. “I must examine it thoroughly from all angles to make an accurate record.”

“Brat,” Valkyrie says almost fondly, tangling a hand loosely through Loki’s hair as the other woman traces around each of the piercings with a curious finger.

“And what is this one?” Loki asks, running a finger lightly over the elaborate scar on her mons, where the two circular scars through which an enchanted rune bar had once been affixed under her skin had been incorporated into the larger rune that now occupies the area. Valkyrie’s hand tightens and twists reflexively in its grip on Loki’s hair, and Loki freezes, startled. Valkyrie yanks her hand away quickly as if burned and grips the sheet instead, looking away.

“That was my wedding band,” she explains gruffly, looking away. “I left the band with her when I burned her body and sent her soul to Valhalla, and carved her name in its place instead.”

“May she rest well, ever glorious,” Loki says softly, and Valkyrie turns back just in time to see Loki dip her head in a respectful bow that reminds Valkyrie that Loki was and still is a Prince of Asgard, that Odin’s younger heirs are surprising in ways different from his first, and presses a gentle, chaste kiss to the scar. Before Valkyrie can manage to find her voice around the lump in her throat again, Loki presses the tip of a finger to one of the rings in her labia instead. “You’ve fought on Jotunheim?”

“Oh. Yes.” Valkyrie might want a subject change as much as Loki does, but Loki is obviously doing a better job at pivoting. And bargaining. A truth offered for a memory gained. “I earned that one in the battle that helped to put Laufey on the throne of Jotunheim, and Odin used that unrequested…aid…to dictate the terms of the relationship between Asgard and Jotunheim for centuries after.”

“Asgard put Laufey on the throne? No wonder there was such resentment later, which likely also led into the last great war. And no wonder this is the first I’ve heard of it, as Asgard would not want to admit the puppet king they had originally installed was now rebelling.” Lokl gives a self-deprecating smile with too much behind it, then sighs and flops down dramatically on the bed. “I tire of history for now.”

“I agree.” Valkyrie reaches out with a foot and prods at Loki’s delightfully perky ass with her toes. “Why don’t you come up here and do something about this like you promised?” she says, gesturing to her own spread legs with a smirk.

“Oh, and what happens if I don’t?” Loki asks, squirming away from her foot.

“I’ll punish you.”

“Ah. And what happens if I do?”

“I’ll punish you thoroughly.”

Loki’s eyes go dark and she shivers in anticipation. “Oh, yes. My mistress.” Quickly, she crawls into position, yanking Valkyrie’s legs over her pale shoulders. Leaning forward, she eagerly greets Valkyrie’s cunt with a messy, open-mouthed kiss, like enthusiastically greeting a returning lover after a long battle, before she turns to using her silver tongue to catch Valkyrie up with what has happened in each of the Nine Realms and beyond since the war.

Bucky/OMCs, Bucky has a type

[(Anonymous)]

Bucky keeps bringing different guys all home, and they're all opinionated, blond twinks. Maybe Bucky doesn't even realize what he's doing, but Steve does.

End on Steve/Bucky or not, up to you. Just want to see Bucky with a bunch of guys who maybe might remind him of a what could have been.

Mantis, pregnancy

[(Anonymous)]

Mantis surprises the rest of the Guardians by announcing that she's pregnant. Her species is able to reproduce asexually, and she's now in the early stages of her pregnancy. The rest of the team do what they can to make sure Mantis has what she needs and try to prepare for the newest member of the team.

I'm not really looking for any overt pairings here, except for Quill/Gamora. I just think it'd be an interesting and cute idea to explore.

fill, gen

[(Anonymous)]

Gamora's reaction is to leap over the table and put a knife to Drax's throat as Mantis wails and Peter starts waving his hands.

"Whoa! Whoa and whoa some more. Gamora, put that down."

"I have never engaged in sexual intercourse with Mantis. She is my friend but she is physically repulsive!" Drax snarls at Gamora.

"Hey! We talked about how we talk to people!," snaps Peter. "I mean it, Gamora. Put the knife down and let us continue with dinner. Mantis was clearly still talking."

"I mean, what else is there to say? She's gonna hatch an egg," growls Rocket amusedly, while righting the single sauce bottle Gamora had knocked. Groot merely takes advantage of the distraction to pull his game console back out.

"Do not hurt my friend or I will put you to sleep and then put Quill to sleep and then take odd pictures!"

"Low, Mantis. Low. Now, that explanation?" Gamora grumbles as she returns to her seat beside Rocket.

"My people only have sexual relations for the hormonal rushes it provides. Reproduction is asexual and if an adult is in a safe environment then we shall produce an offspring once every five years or so for our fertile span."

She receives a combination of looks in response but she is learning to read her strange group. Groot does not care. Rocket is gazing around as if he disagrees this ship is anything resembling safe. Peter is working on the asexual reproduction aspect and Drax looks confused in general. Gamora just seems miffed that she cannot castrate someone.

"Well, um, congratulations? You let us know if you need anything, different foods or I don't know, foot rubs. Do aliens need foot rubs? We can shift things about to give you more space and stuff," Peter rambles, a grin slowly pulling across his face.

"I will defend your child as if were my own. To the death," Drax declares with a thump of the table.

"Groot!"

"Yeah yeah, we all will but can we get on with dinner now? Mantis especially. She's growing an egg here!"

"You don't know that it is an egg. And don't ask her and be rude, you damn squirrel!"

"Listen Quill!"

Mantis smiles. Her family is odd but it is hers and it makes her feel safe. Perhaps she will wait until tomorrow to inform them the gestation period is only six weeks.

Jessica Jones/Bucky Barnes

[(Anonymous)]

Super powered sex between people who aren't great at emotions- let's break something! Break a heart, break a bed, break a table, break anything!

Shuri/female character, d/s

[(Anonymous)]

Shuri in a dom/sub relationship with any female character. Any side of it, any female character.

Re: Shuri/female character, d/s

[(Anonymous)]

I have something that might work, it's pretty gen with some dom elements but I can post it if you're interested.

Sam/Steve: time travel

[(Anonymous)]

Sam time travels to ww2 era and meets pre-ice (skinny or buff) Steve, and he's so different before. He hasn't lost Everyone He's Ever Had. He fits here, in a way Sam's never seen.

And also he seems to be crushing on Sam!

Historically accurate racial problems for a black man in the 30s optional, but could be interesting?

Bucky/Steve, pre-serum, cross-dressing

[(Anonymous)]

It's not that Steve is trans or anything, but there was something thrilling about dressing as a girl and going out with Bucky, and being free to hold hands and dance and share an ice cream together, without anyone judging them.

(And maybe he misses it a bit, post-serum, because he could never pass for an average girl now)

FILL: Bucky/Steve, pre-serum, cross-dressing (part 1/3)

[(Anonymous)]

Title: Maybe, Maybe Not
Pairing: Pre-serum Steve/Bucky
Rating: M
Length:6173
Unedited, sorry if there are distracting errors.

Steve doesn’t want to be a girl. However it might look (and at times it looks pretty damning) it’s not like that. Which isn’t to say that he isn’t messed up in the head, because surely most guys don’t go around wearing their mother’s old dresses and hanging off their best friend’s arm at Coney Island. So he’s definitely not normal, but he’s not one of those third gender types either.

If someone held a gun up to his head and gave him the option between oblivion and a reason, he’s not sure what he would say. He just likes it. The fabric feels nice, and the air on his legs is refreshing, novel. The way the wind makes a skirt play around his knees sends bubbles of happiness up his belly that are unlike anything else. He loves the way the fibers the wig curl around his ears and cover the sharp lines of his cheeks.

It takes all the shame and discomfort of his size and turns it into something rare and desirable. And of course he burns for the way it makes Bucky look at him, like he’s the Rosetta Stone and the lost city of Atlantis and the great Hope diamond all in one. Precious, unusual, fascinating. He thinks they might be in trouble.

And yes, it does have the characteristic thrill of deviance. Like spending the nickel that was meant for the newspaper on a soda at the fountain, or eating the last cookie in the jar. But that’s only a sliver of it, a sour cherry on top of a sweet, innocent thing. Because it is innocent. It’s not a sex thing for him, and it never has been.

Sighing, he sits on the dented mattress in his bedroom and slips on the thick heeled Oxfords Bucky bought him on their last excursion. Which is still another uncomfortable part of it—they both know they don’t have the money for this, and yet they can’t seem to stop. Every Sunday they wake up and stare at each other over dry, crumbly bread and hot cereal and try to talk each other out of window shopping. Until one of them loses their nerve and starts talking the other one into it.

Today is was Bucky. He wanted to see the new heels. Steve stares at them, gut churning in the usual heady mix of excitement, elation, and dread. For some reason he’s desperate for Bucky to see them. He picked this outfit specifically to compliment the shoes, to appeal to his friend and show him his money wasn’t wasted.

The heels are nothing fancy, but nothing fancy is an extravagant luxury for them. They’re modest working girl’s lace ups, made of heavy canvas with brogue toe caps. Dainty. Cute. He’s never dared to wear anything with open toes or heels for fear that his ugly man’s feet would give him away. But now he has these, and even in their modesty they are lovely. They make his chest flutter like Bucky’s smile.

Speak of the devil, Bucky knocks on his door. He jumps, feeling silly for daydreaming.

“Y-yeah?” he says, and stutters when he realizes he forgot to pitch his voice higher. He tries again. “Come in.”

“You decent?” Bucky jokes, leaning his head through the door and playfully averting his eyes.

“Strictly speaking, yes.” Steve murmurs. He can’t manage anything louder than a whisper in his falsetto. The door creaks softly as Bucky steps inside.

“Aw, look at you. All cleaned up.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll be going out on your own.” Steve rolls his eyes, and makes himself lay his hands over his lap instead of crossing them like he normally would.

“Oh, ho. The rose has thorns!”

“And a sweet tooth.”

Bucky grins, and puts his hands in his pockets. He’s handsome. Always is, but it’s different when they go out. The first time he didn’t make a big deal of it, he was just humoring Steve’s scheme. But then those soldiers came and tried to tempt him from Bucky’s arm and curiously the next week his friend showed up in a three-piece. One day of parading around town like they had money and they were both hooked. It’s amazing how much better clerks treat supposedly rich customers.

“Was that a hint?” Bucky raises his eyebrows, and just the sight of him standing in the doorway in his Sunday best has Steve slipping into character.

His eyes flick down and a shy smile spreads on his face without him even meaning to. It’s not hard to act demure standing beside someone that collected and genial. He stands and fusses with the blue patterned dress, watches it swish around his legs and checks the buttons to makes sure their all done up correctly.

“It was a statement.” Steve says demurely. He fusses with the felt hat that he’s still not sold on and hopes like hell they aren’t caught. They’ve gotten away with this so far, but lucky always runs out eventually.

“The soda fountain it is.” Bucky grins. Stepping closer, he cups Steve’s cheek and tucks a strand of fake hair behind his ear. “You want a malt again?”

“Just a soda.” Steve says quietly as heat crawls up his neck. They’re still so new at this, to indulging the desire that’s grown between them since their ages hit double digits and hair started showing up on their faces and chests. It doesn’t seem right, how strongly his body reacts to every tiny thing Bucky does, but Steve is powerless to his wise-ass jokes and his soft, strong muscles that seem to get bigger by the day.

Steve’s own growth has disappointed him, but since they’ve stopped running from this simmering attraction it’s become a blessing in disguise. A bigger man couldn’t wear these clothes and walk arm in arm with another man down the pier. He couldn’t go from store to store letting his fella dress him up in flouncy dresses or share a soda out of two straws. And he certainly couldn’t melt when his date calls him doll and dame and gorgeous like Steve always does.

Shaking off his nerves, he slips his hand in the crook of Bucky’s elbow and kisses his shoulder.

“Lead the way, Jimmy.” he says, and grins when Bucky rolls his eyes. He hates his fake name, although by all accounts anything beats Stephanie which Bucky stuck him with out of revenge. Regrettably there are only so many places they can afford to go, so the staff of the various establishments started to remember them pretty quickly. Names once given in jest got stuck, and there’s nothing either of them can do about it now.

When the arrive the soda fountain is buzzing with energy. Boys and girls their age cluster around the bar, asking the mixer rapid fire questions and talking loudly. Families fresh out from church service sit around the front tables while their children chatter and laugh. Steve loves coming here on Sundays, even on days like this where the most they can afford is one bottle between them. It’s so alive, so sunny and full of color.

Georgie the cashier is stuck on him, and that always makes for a fun time. So of course Bucky detests the guy, even though his weakness for Steve’s eyes gets them five cents off every drink. It’s no different today.

“Hey, you two, welcome in.” Georgie greets cheerfully as he pours two sodas at once. “My, you look swell today, Miss Stephanie.”

He doesn’t trust his voice much in public, so Steve nods and smiles. Bucky grumbles under his breath.

“Just a soda today, Georgia. And light on the ice this time. I don’t want Stephie to get a brain freeze.”

A stab of frustration shoots up at that abominable abbreviation, but he tries not to let it show. Instead, he hops up on the stool and crosses his legs, and again admires his new shoes. It really was nice of Bucky to buy them, he hadn’t even dared to ask. But in the store he’d been mesmerized, sitting on the bench for far too long admiring the way they made his feet look so slender and nice. And Bucky had fished out his pocket book. Two weeks later he’s still smitten.

And that’s really what it’s about, now that Steve thinks about. His sits up straighter on the stool when Georgia returns with their usual bottle of cherry cola with two straws.

“After you, angel.” Bucky says. He really can’t resist playing the prince, and Steve likes it too much to bust his chops. Saccharine stuff like that should sound cheesy, but the way he says it anyone would believe him. He’s just so sincere.

Steve worries, during times like these. Times when they’re leaning close on the bar and their straws are only a few inches apart. Times when Bucky’s eyes seem to glimmer in the afternoon sun and he thinks he might get lost in them. Is any of this real? Is he in love with an illusion, some idealized man created in Bucky’s head to parallel Steve’s blushing ingenue?

Although he knows he’s dropping the ball, he can’t make himself answer. His mouth won’t open. Even if it is all a fiction, would that be such a bad thing? The stab of hurt in his gut has his hands shaking in his lap. Yes, yes it would be bad. Real bad. Because then it would go both ways, and he’d have to choose between being Stephanie and Jimmy or Steve, alone.

Bucky holds both his hands in one of his big ones and tips a straw in his direction.

“Go on, doll, no need to be shy.”

Steve drinks, just to avoid talking. Not for all the money in the world could he explain how the hell they got here, or how it somehow became their weekly routine. It’s perverse is what it is. He’s a guy old enough to go to war instead he’s sitting in a cafe in a wig and pantyhoes. There are places for guys like him, they call them asylums.

They never should have let it go this far, but they did and now he’s stuck. He’s in love with his best friend, or maybe Jimmy who the hell knows. The man with the winning smile could be Bucky or it could be a fantasy, and he’s increasingly sure he doesn’t want to know which.

Blissfully unaware, Georgie wipes the counter with a terrycloth and flips it over his shoulder.

“Lordy, you two are something else. The heck did you find a dame like her?”

Bucky sets his hand on the back of Steve’s chair and his heart flies into his throat. It’s a miracle he doesn’t shoot bubbles into the soda and send it foaming all over the counter. He gives him another one of the prince charming looks and does the sort of one-shoulder shrug that all the gumshoes do in the talkies.

“Girl next door. Just got lucky, I guess.” Bucky winks. It ought to look fake, but Steve’s face heats up all the same.

“I’ll say.” Georgie huffs. “You want anything else? My shift’s about over.”

“Nah, I think we’ll take our time with this one.” Bucky says, smoothly dodging the money issue. His foot brushes Steve’s leg under the counter, and surprised grunt leaves his mouth before he can stop it, too deep for ‘Stephanie.’ Georgie stops in his tracks, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

Raising his fist to his mouth, Bucky clears his throat loudly.

“Excuse me!” he says easily, so easily, how is it that he always knows just what to do? “Went down wrong way.”

Suspicious eyes track between the two of them, and Steve sucks on the stray like his life depends on it. Georgie’s mouth slacks a bit, but he nods.

“Y-yeah. Hate it when that happens.”

Bucky fakes a minor coughing fit and Steve reluctantly rubs his back.

“Alright, sweetheart?” he whispers, terrified now of his own voice and cringing internally as the pet name slips out in his distraction. Sweetheart. Next it will be sugar or sweetie pie or baby and he will have to sew his lips shut for his own good.

“M’fine.” Bucky mock chokes, making a show of getting a grip.

“You sure?”

“Nothin’ to worry about.” Bucky squeezes his hand and straightens up.

“Maybe we should go home anyway.” Steve says, stiff from his shoulders to his toes. He’s not sure he’s ever said that many words at once, dressed like he is. Their eyes meet as Bucky undoubtedly comes to the same realization.

“Not yet.” Bucky’s eyes widen. “We just got here.”

Georgie wipes his hands on his apron.

“My brother’s band is playing down the road at Richie’s.”

“A band?”

“Yup, a big band. Here.” he pulls out a pen and scratches a message on a napkin. “This ought to get you in. If you want to.”

For better or worse, Bucky wants to. His face lights up, and Steve’s mind gets away from as he watches Bucky’s lips spread over his perfect teeth. Bouncing music and beaming lights, a big parquet dance floor full of swaying couples. The room spinning while he gets a face full of Bucky’s wide grin. If he hadn’t already drank more than half the bottle he would chug the rest right then, but it wouldn’t be fair. He slides the bottle to Bucky’s chest and makes a hurry up gesture.

“I take it that’s a yes.” Bucky laughs.

Steve smiles until he’s afraid he might get lipstick on his teeth.

Folding the napkin in his suit pocket, Bucky sucks until the straws rattle and drops two nickels on the counter.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

-

The hall isn’t quite what he imagined, but the napkin gets them inside and Steve is grateful just for that. Neither of them have ever been to a place like this. Billiard tables fill most of the establishment, but there is a low stage full of musicians playing a chipper melody and a handful of patrons dancing along.

All at once, he’s glad they never thought to do this before because he only recently got the hang of heels and the ladies on the floor are stomping and spinning around like clydesdales. Despite himself he swallows, daunted.

Bucky raises his hand to clap him on the back, and catches himself. Instead he trails his fingers down Steve’s spine and rests his hand at the small of his back. A feeling almost like an itch spreads from the contact, a tight pressure that yearns for more, closer, lower. His breath catches.

Scott/Bucky, Scott is great

[(Anonymous)]

Scott has a way of making stuff so mundane and simple, and stating the obvious, and even on his worse days, he makes Bucky laugh, reminds him that real life exists outside of trauma and war, and Bucky adores him. Luckily, Scott is totally swayed by Bucky's pretty eyes and goofy smile and dry humour. Score.

Bonus: Bucky is also super petty, though, and willing to fuck Scott where he knows Sam will hear, just to annoy him. Scott may or may not know about that part.

("OH MY GOD AGAIN??? THAT'S THE THIRD TIME TODAY, GET OFF HIM BARNES!")

Bucky/Clint, Clint’s Cult Following

[(Anonymous)]

Clint is the Average Joe of the team, a real human with no insane powers or armour, and he isn’t in the spotlight often, but the team has gotten used to his extremely dedicated fan following, who write letters and send dumb gifts (pizza shirts, handmade purple mugs, knitted hats and stuffed versions of himself...) and he adores them, rambles about them on social media.

So he starts dating Bucky, which of course gets out, and Bucky is shocked to find the gifts start being matched sets, the fans taking to him so fast it makes his head spin, and he’s just so happy???

Just... Clint’s fans appreciate his choice in boyfriends and want the best for both of them.

FILL: Bucky/Clint, Clint’s Cult Following

[(Anonymous)]

"Alright, is my feed good?" Clint asks the webcam.

Messages explode in the chat, too fast to read. The consensus seems to be yes. He sets his camera on the stand and sits cross legged on the big communal couch. Jarvis helpfully displays his chat feed nice and big on the screen and the speakers ding for a solid thirty seconds with the usual donations and subscriptions.

"Aw, thanks guys, damn look at all those givers. For you newbies to the channel, I donate all the money I get from this stream to worthy causes. This month's charity is Child Find of America. They look for lost kids, abducted kids, and runaways like yours truly. Really great charity, I've met them a couple times. So thanks, thank you Hawkguy007, Clints_girl, JuaquimSym, liannata, MoolaMan, hot4hawk, ahhh I think that's pronounced Neera?...Sorry if I'm butchering these names."

A wave of his channel's special arrow in the heart emotes whip over the TV, and he smiles.

"Anyway, let's get to it shall we?" using his handheld remote he widens the camera lens to show the whole room instead of just his torso. The expansive sectional is covered in black trash bags full of fan mail. Thor's doofy grin fills the stream, his highest tier emote lovingly christened "godchamp."

"Happy Clint-mas, guys! Geez, I dunno where to start." he laughs, ripping open the nearest bag and dumping out a big pile of boxes and envelopes.

Most of his streams are just him talking about nothing while he fucks around in Minecraft, he honestly doesn't why people even watch. He doesn't think he's all that witty. But the fan letters say he's inspiring, fighting big monsters with nothing but a bow and arrow. Some focus on his looks, but others talk about debilitating illnesses and cite his hearing aids as a point of admiration. He doesn't see why they think his hearing holds him back, but if it helps them get through their own treatments and therapies then he's happy to let sleeping dogs lie.

All the attention and gifts used to make him uncomfortable, so many people pinning their hopes and dreams on this idealized image of him. He'd maybe gone off the deep end one day, throwing teddy bears and balling up crappy crayon portraits. Can't these crazies see he's just an imposter following the real heroes around? Steve can literally scale a cliff with his pinkies, why should anyone admire Clint? All he has are a plucky attitude and a weakness for maple bacon donuts, he's not a fucking idol.

Then Bucky dragged him to the nearest dive bar and pointed at the signed photos of sports players and the lovingly framed jerseys. Told him how he'd sneak into the neighborhood bar and hide under the tables as a kid so he could listen to the baseball commentators on the radio. With rapt fascination Clint listened as Bucky reminisced about the good ole days when he would drag Steve to the vacant lot down the street to practice his swing and dream of being an All-Star with a huge house in the suburbs. When the world lets them down, people need someone to believe in.

Since then Clint's been happy to encourage the fanaticism, if only so he can turn their adoration towards more worthy causes. With a pair of dull scissors he awkwardly opens the first several boxes and shows off the gifts. A hand knitted beanie with a target on the front, a slightly misshapen purple mug, and a shirt that says 'I just came for the pizza.'

"You guys are so creative, look at this!" He pulls the hat on with only slightly exaggerated delight. "I mean how awesome is this? You've got a talent. And this mug, definitely gotta use this for our next 24 hour stream. I bet I can get four shots in here."

It goes on like that as he steadily works through two more trash bags. His fans really are insanely generous. One of them sent honest to god kevlar armor that fit him like a glove. Obviously it has nothing on Stark's gear, but the note references the bullet he caught in their last fight with Doom and it's really hits him in the gut how much these people care about him.

He's ready to label the stream another successful Clint-mas when he slices open the last box and instead of the usual cross-stitch pillows and poorly rendered fanart it's a pair of little stuffed toys with big, cute eyes. One is clearly supposed to be him, blonde yarn hair cut short with his signature shit eating grin. But the other...the other is Bucky.

Hit so suddenly by surprise and gratitude, he just stares into the box with his mouth open like an idiot. The messages on the TV fly by in a torrent of "What's in the box?" "Are you okay?" "What is it, what is it?"

Speechless, he looks up at the camera and back down at the handsome little bastards. Whoever sent them made a cozy nest in the bottom of the box out of purple flannel and tiny stuffed pillows. There's a note.

"Dear Clint," he reads, clearing his throat when his voice starts to sound weepy. "I work at a restaurant in Manhattan. Last week you came in with your boyfriend and I was so nervous I had to trade your table to someone else. You two were so cute together, so smitten all the waitstaff was gossiping about you in the kitchen. I could barely focus on my own tables! You should keep him, you looked like you were really into each other. Will you tell us his name? Signed Emily."

Blinking fast, he swallows down a wave of feelings he couldn't possibly name and lifts the adorable little dolls out of the box. They are expertly made, big heads and skinny noodle like arms stitched together in neat, straight seams.

"Oh my god, I love them." he says, knowing he's getting way too emotional over a couple of dolls. He hugs them, a big smile breaking over his face. "Thank you Emily, these are rad as fuck."

If the chat was a fast moving stream before, it's a white water rapid after he reads the letter. Nothing more than a blur of emotes and all-caps reactions. He sits the dolls on either side of his crossed legs and scratches the back of his neck in belated embarrassment.

"Well his name is Bucky. Yes, that Bucky. And yes, we technically met in prison." Clint laughs, enjoying the flood of suggestive emotes. "But only cause he was breakin' me out. Water under the bridge now, as you all know."

With the remote he scans up the chat log so he can actually read it, and he's stunned to find unanimous support. Not a troll in the bunch. It's just a wall of well wishes and fangirls squealing. His chest feels tight.

"Wow, you really like him? I thought you all might be jealous and chase him with sticks."

A wall of no. Clint laughs, doesn't feel like he can possible explain how their support makes him feel. Fortunately he doesn't have to. Back in the atrium the elevator dings and Bucky calls out a hello.

"Well, thanks for tuning in everyone, but I think we're out of packages." he says regretfully. "Let's see how much you all raised this month."

Pulling up his donation page, Clint checks the total amount.

"Hot damn, you guys, you out did yourselves this month. That's eleven million. Million with an M. Six zeroes. Holy cow."

Bucky calls again, and the chat lights up with godchamps.

"In here! Fair warning, I'm live right now." Clint answers, looking over the back of the couch. His boyfriend sets a shopping bag on the counter and kicks off his boots.

"Oh." Bucky says, eloquent as ever.

"Look what I've got." he says, holding the dolls up. Bucky's face is priceless, eyebrows high and lips parted in surprise.

"Wow."

"I know, right?" Clint chuckles, knowing that the camera will only capture Bucky from the waist down. A fine view, in his opinion. "Welp, good night all. I'm gonna grab some grub with my number one fan. Peace!"

He flicks off the stream, and spends a couple seconds reveling in the affronted messages and pleas for him to put Bucky on cam. Maybe he will, if Bucky wants to, but not right now.

"Did they take it well?" Bucky asks, leaning down for a quick kiss.

"I'm afraid they're gonna leave me for you." Clint jokes, kissing back and fumbling to kneel on the sofa so he can get a better angle. His boyfriend hums and withdraws, laying his arms around Clint and inspecting the plushies in his lap.

"Sorry for outing you." Clint says with an apologetic tilt of his head. He hooks his fingers into Bucky's beltloops and scratches at the coarse denim. "It just kind of happened and I rolled with it."

"It's alright." Bucky says. With his past flings he wouldn't have believed that, would have spent days picking apart their face and their tone of voice looking for the truth. But Bucky is nothing but unflinching honesty and patient smiles. Clint grapples with how to thank him for that, but Bucky talks first.

"I brought pizza." he says.

"I fucking love you." Clint grins. "Tell me you got wings."

"I also got wings." Bucky nods, returning his smile. "And lava cakes."

Clint climbs over the sofa and dashes for the counter, pulling Bucky behind him. Maybe he's not a super soldier or a god or a genius, but fuck all of them. None of them have an amazing, sexy boyfriend who likes junk food and garbage television.

Tony can keep the wannabe activists and Steve can have the horny teen girls. He has the real fans, the ones who struggle to get out of bed, who are drowning in medical bills and still find five bucks to give to charity. He loves every single one of them, even the creepy ones and the ones who obviously don't understand social ques. The world needs average joes. It needs plumbers and electricians and nurses.

And thanks to Bucky he's starting to value that in himself too. He's a normal dude, but he's just as capable of defending Earth. He's an Avenger, goddammit, and he pulls his weight. Still holding the dolls to his chest, he swipes up a steaming slice of four cheese and salivates over the beautiful, shiny strings of cheese that drip off like liquid gold.

"Happy Clint-mas." Bucky quips, biting into his own slice.

"To me." Clint replies, raising his slice like a toast. So ridiculously happy.

"To you." Bucky agrees.

AoU but Wild West

[(Anonymous)]

I just kind of want to see a twist on Age of Ultron where it's set in a western AU.

HYDRA as a criminal posse riding from town to town, kidnapping new recruits and holding stick-ups.

Steve as the sheriff. Tony as mayor. Clint as the town's top marksman. Natasha as a brothel showgirl they picked up along the way. Et.cetera.

Bonus points if Clint lasoes one or both of the twins and tosses them over his horse like a sack of potatoes for the ride back to base.

Bonus points for a wild west shootout.

Natasha accidentally adopts Wanda

[(Anonymous)]

Natasha can't have kids of her own - she had that option taken from her by force at the Red Room, and never really got over that.

When Steve assigns her to train Wanda Maximoff, Natasha rather expected to dislike the girl, especially following the events from Age of Ultron.

But when she goes to officially introduce herself to the little witch, Wanda is an absolute mess. She's curled in a corner of her assigned room, sobbing her heart out over her dead twin, and her powers are going haywire. She's terrified, and hurting, and all alone in the world...and the second that Natasha feels that protective urge start up, she knows that this girl is absolutely going to be her daughter.

Re: Natasha accidentally adopts Wanda

[(Anonymous)]

Seconded like a silver metal, yes pls

Sugar Daddy T'Challa

[(Anonymous)]

T'Challa finds himself as the very lucky sugar daddy to the rogue Avengers, who are all very eager to show him just how grateful they are for him helping them out.

Dark Scott shrinks someone for him to keep as a mini sex doll, non-con

[(Anonymous)]

Basically what it says on the tin. Dark!Scott shrinks someone down and keeps them trapped at that size so he can have a living sex doll that really can't fight back.

Would prefer it be one of the girls. Exact shrink size is up to filler - can be as big as an American girl doll or as tiny as a poly pocket.

Bonus for lots of size play, epically using appropriately sized objects like ball point pens or cotton swabs to fuck them with. Big bonus for using tape to hold them down while he has his fun.

No guro plz. I prefer the shrunk one be stretchy, not injured.

Re: Dark Scott shrinks someone for him to keep as a mini sex doll, non-con

[(Anonymous)]

OP, I feel like you read Tabitha King’s Small World recently?

Dom!Gamora/Sub!Loki Strength Kink, facesitting, rough pussy eating

[(Anonymous)]

I just wanna read Gamora throwing Loki around like a sack of potatoes and him getting off on how much stronger she is than him.

Add whatever kinks you want, listed activities are just suggestions. My only request is no scat/watersports/bloodplay. Everything else is on the table, so long as we get to see Gamora overpower everyone's favorite whiny little bitch boy without breaking a sweat. ^___^

AoU AU

[(Anonymous)]

I want an Avengers AU where Bruce wasn't portrayed as being so spineless, and actually stands up for himself when Tony tries to coerce him into helping create Ultron behind everyone's backs. I want him to put his foot down, say no, and bring the scepter right back to Thor. I want him to stop Ultron's creation cold, whether or not Tony agrees.

I want them to spend the movie hunting down Hydra and figuring out how to deal with the twins - preferably with Steve slowly coaxing them over to the Avenger's side. I would like to see them all facing their demons together, not trying to scramble their composure back together before they have to start another fight. I want someone to stop Wanda before she sets off the hulk - warn her that she's about to release a killing machine, not just render Bruce comatose.

I want Pietro to survive the end of the damn move.

I don't care if this is done as an AU or a post-snap attempt to fix the past, but I want to see AoU without Ultron.

I'm fond of Clint's family, so feel free to keep them, and if you can work Vision in then he's welcome too.

Re: AoU AU

[(Anonymous)]

I would love to read this. +1

ABO verse - Alpha Steve, Steve/Sam, Steve/Clint, Steve/Scott, Steve/Wanda

[(Anonymous)]

I want a super sweet, super heartfelt sex scene where Steve takes each of his imprisoned teammates and claims them back following their rescue from the Raft. Location is up to filler.

Bonus points for Steve meticulously kissing each of their injuries

Double bonus if some of them are skittish and hesitant to be touched because of abuse at the Raft

Re: ABO verse - Alpha Steve, Steve/Sam, Steve/Clint, Steve/Scott, Steve/Wanda

[(Anonymous)]

Ffffffffuck yes + a million!!

any/any, stuffing at an Asgardian feast

[(Anonymous)]

Nothing can match an Asgardian feast, but somebody really enjoys trying. Afterwards, when they are extremely proud of themselves and almost too full to move, their partner gives them belly rubs.

Re: any/any, stuffing at an Asgardian feast

[(Anonymous)]

I'm taking a stab at this, probably will be done tomorrow.

Fandral/Hogun, voyeurism

[(Anonymous)]

The two warriors either come upon or are trapped while Thor and Loki are having sex. The sights and sounds are too inspiring that despite the fact that they've not admitted to their feelings for each other they end up distracted having sex with each other.

While Thor doesn't notice anything, Loki sure does and he even does something magical after to let them know he knew they were watching and what they were doing. ;)