banan!- ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

Living in the middle of nowhere left you with little to nothing to do.

There wasn’t a grocery store for miles, except for the small gas station up the road–you had already exhausted the magazine section, eyes scanning over the pages, until the worker kicked you out, something about ‘this ain't a library, sweetheart’, and a few bats of your eyelashes weren't doing the trick like they usually did.

You’ve wandered the trailer park more times than you can imagine; you’ve talked to an older woman addicted to cigarettes and wine enough times that you can count this week, every story being an account of a failed relationship back in her ‘prime’, and you had to laugh it off, as if you didn’t have a man a few years older waiting for you back at the trailer, and she’d tell you that ‘no man ain’t good enough for a girl like you’, and you’d take a drag of her cigarette before you went to the next house.

Needless to say, you were bored, and have been bored.

The living room is all laughs and grunts, your boyfriend struggling to hold you back as you sit on top of him; your thighs straddle his hips, and he’s holding your forearms, trying to keep you from acting up even more–this is what happens when you’re bored, and watching reruns of television isn’t satisfying the itch.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he laughs, his head against the soft carpet, his back pressing into the floor. “You really think you’re gonna win?”

“Yes,” you grin and nod quickly, laughing louder when you try to lean forward, and he lightly pushes you back, keeping you restrained. “You’re gonna lose!”

“Yeah,” he laughs and shakes his head, his hands sliding down your forearms, and he grabs your waist, pinching it, tickling it.

“Stop!” you cry out, shaking your head, squirming around against him, his cowboy hat almost falling off your head.

The whole situation is an amusing one; you’re fighting back, squirming around, struggling, and he’s doing everything he can to keep you from completely winning, despite the fact that there is no winning–it’s a meaningless game of touches and light jabs, giggles, and him letting you think you have the upper hand for the first time in your entire life.

This was a game that the two of you played more than you’d like to admit; he’d try to knock you off, and you’d hang on for dear life, acting like he was a bull beneath you. It was all the fun you could have living in a rural area like this, and wearing his cowboy hat was the funnest part about it.

He’d tell you about it when he was one at your age; all worn hands and herding cattle, away for months at a time, the only thing he had was his horse, and now he has you.

“Just–let me win,” you whine out, but he finds watching your face contort and your voice strain as he holds your back more entertaining.

His eyes are focused on you above him; that smile curled into your lips, your eyes practically lit up, and the way your shirt tips off your shoulder, your shorts riding up, and he’s suddenly realizing where his thoughts are going. 

“Gotta try harder, baby,” he teases, squeezing your waist again, and you burst out laughing, eyes closing and your head tipped back.

“Is this… what riding a horse is like?” You giggle, squirming against his lap, and he rests his hands on your hips.

“Eh, not really,” he shakes his head, fingers casually hooking into your shorts belt loops. “More… tricky, you’d be fallin’ all over the place.”

He gives your hip a firm smack, and you laugh louder, almost tipping forward and onto his chest, still wearing his stupid cowboy hat. She looks up at you, clicking his tongue.

“Can… you show me?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Mhm,” he smiles, nodding slowly, nodding towards his thigh. “How bout’ you sit on my thigh, yeah?”

You quickly nod and crawl off of him, and he’s already sinking into the leather couch, and you’re lowering yourself onto his thigh, straddling the thick muscle.

His hands find your hips, and he looks up at you, gently rubbing your body through your shorts.

“Ridin’ a horse is bumpy,” he starts quietly, and you nod in understanding. “They go over terrain, yeah? N’ you gotta have good balance, baby.”

You nod. “I do!”

“Do you?” He questions, tilting his head to the side as he starts bouncing his leg slightly. “You gonna balance on this?”

The sudden bouncing of his leg makes your eyebrows furrow, and you look away from him, shyly laughing at the movement; you’re moving around a little, feeling a constant pressure between your legs, and you swallow hard.

“Stop—stop… I…. I can’t balance,” you shake your head, still wearing his silly cowboy hat, and he’s smiling at you.

“Oh, well, this is great practice then, hm?” He asks, his hand squeezing your hips. “Keep balancin’, could be a pro cowgirl.”

“I… I don’t wanna be,” you shake your head, lifting your hand to hold the oversized hat down, and it’s an unfortunate tingle between your thighs, and he’s watching in amusement. 

“Aww, what kinda attitude is that?” He teases, keeping that steady balance with his leg, perfectly stimulating you. “C’mon, cowgirl,” he teases, and you whine.

“I just—please,” you whine quietly, and he knows that you’re enjoying it a little too much, and it’s not a challenge—well, not in the way he thinks it is.

“C’mon, doll,” he encourages, patting your hip, and he keeps rocking his thigh up and down. “Ridin’ my thigh ain’t that easy, huh?”

The feeling is making your head tip back, and you’re giving into it completely now, succumbing to the pleasure that he’s purposely giving you. He grins and makes a clicking sound with his mouth, similar to the ones people use to get their horses’ attention, and you groan at the slight humiliation.

“Back n’ forth, baby,” he encourages, gently guiding your hips now, helping you grind against his leg. “Atta girl, keepin’ your balance n’ all.”

Your eyes flutter, and your head tips back further, and you reach out to grab something—his hand, shoulder, anything, but he lightly pushes your hand away.

“Ain’t that against the rules, sweet girl?” He quips, tilting his head to the side. “No holdin’ to nothin’, gotta balance that pretty body on its own.”

He watches your face contort out of frustration, and your nose scrunches, feeling home encouraging your hips more and more. You clench around his jeans, thighs squeezing together, and he glances down, raising his brows.

“My lil’ girl, not gettin’ enough friction, yeah?” He teases, blinking, his hand sliding forward to the button of your shorts. “How bout’ we take em’ off, give you a lil’ bit more?”

You nod quickly and stop, and he’s helping you take off your shorts, and yeah, he takes your underwear off too. It leaves your bare core against that rough, worn-out denim, a damp spot immediately forming, and he gazes at your little blouse too—he wants that off as well.

There’s something entertaining about you being completely naked, all while he’s dressed head to toe, and he’s watching you return to grinding, completely bare all over.

“Makin’ my jeans all wet,” he smirks, glancing down; when your core lifts for a brief second, he can see the darker blue, stained for your slick. “Poor baby, my sweetheart.”

You’re whining and whimpering, your hips mercilessly rocking back and forth, and the room feels hotter than normal, sweat glistening on your body.

His hand slides up from your hip, and he cups your breast in his hand, feels the firm weight, and his thumb brushes over your nipple. He smiles when it stiffens, his other hand guiding you still.

“Ain’t these the cutest,” he comments on your breasts, more specifically your nipples. “Sensitive lil’ things, can feel you gettin’ wetter.”

And he’s right, you’re getting wetter, and it’s spreading over his thigh even more. You’re picking up speed, urgently rocking back and forth, and the sounds are getting caught in the back of your throat, the cowboy hat still resting on your head. He thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

“C’mon, cowgirl,” he teases some more, and lightly slaps your hip, earning a whimper. “Show me how good it feels, doll.”

You do when you finish all over his thigh, leaving the denim jeans a soaking-wet mess, all slick and sticky, your body limo and your chest heaving. When you lean a bit forward, the hat knocks over your eyes, and he smiles.

“Dean, we aren’t showering together.” You rolled your eyes.

“Please.” He huffed like he was a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“Not a chance.” You brushed him off and headed to the bathroom, but he stepped in front of the doorway.

“Pretty please? With sprinkles and a side of pie?” He asked, clasping his hands together.

“That’s not how the saying goes.”

“What’s better than pie? Oh, I know, me joining you while you shower.” He replied sarcastically.

“It’s a shame it’s not happening. Guess you’ll have to settle for pie.” You smirked.

“There’s literally a water drought in South Dakota. It would be wrong to not preserve the water.” He crossed his arms, shrugging as if he wasn’t saying a blatant lie.

“Oh really? And where did you hear about this supposed drought?” You crossed your arms, mirroring his stance.

“I got an alert for it on my phone, see?” He held up his phone, but every time you tried to focus on it he suddenly moved it to keep you from seeing it.

“Dean, hand me the phone.”

“What phone?” He threw his phone across the room, and posed in front of the door, his elbow resting on the wall.

“You are unbelievable.” You laughed at him.

“I’m even more unbelievable in the shower.” He winked at you, and you shoved past him and into the hallway.

Or at least tried to before Dean grabbed your wrist and dragged you back into the bedroom.

“Dean!” You squealed.

You looked down to see your boyfriend dropping to his knees and gripping your thighs and pawing like a needy dog.

“Please would you let me shower with you? I won’t even do anything. I swear.” His green eyes looked up at you with such hope that you had no choice but to relent.

“Okay. Fine. But don’t try anything funny. I mean it.” You walked to the bathroom and Dean happily trailed behind you like a kid in a candy store.

“Thank you angel, you’re the sweetest girlfriend I could ever ask for.”

“Uh huh, shut up and get in.”

–

“So so good, angel, thankyouthankyouthankyou” Dean groaned into you as he sloppily kissed your mouth.

“You are such a dick for this, y’know that?” You huffed as you dug your nails into his back. He shuddered at the feeling.

“I’ll make it up to you all night baby, I swear. Fuckfuckfuck–oh shit–” He buried his head into your shoulder and bit down.

“Hate you so so much.” You rolled your eyes as he gripped your thighs, sure to leave bruises tomorrow.

“So mean to me.” He grinned at you, and you took one look at him and knew he was gone.

“You love it.” You said, a smug grin on your face.

“I do. Love it s’much angel. I do, I do, I do.” He whimpered, head going limp into your neck.

“So pathetic for me, huh Deanie?” You taunted.

He just whined in response and you pulled at his hair, winding him up even further. You two were so captivated by each other that you didn’t care who heard how loud you both got. You drove each other crazy, spurring the other one further until you both eventually snapped.

–

The next morning Sam stared at the both of you with a look of pure disgust.

“Wow Sammy, who spit in your coffee?” Dean asked as he sat down next to you.

“Yeah what ruined your morning?” You asked, completely forgetting what you did last night.

“Oh uh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I couldn’t sleep at all last night.” His eye twitched and it finally set in for you two.

“Ohhh, that. Sorry Sam.” You grimaced.

“Yeah, because that fixes everything.” He rolled his eyes.

“We really did try to be quiet.” Dean lied, his lips twitching.

“Right. So that’s why I heard you whining like a damn dog for the next few hours.” He bit back.

Dean’s jaw dropped and you let out a loud cackle, which just led to making Sam even more pissed. Poor poor Sammy.

You step into Stark Tower, the high-tech doors sliding open with a soft whoosh, revealing the sleek, modern interior. It’s your first time visiting Bruce here, and although you’ve been to labs and research centers your whole life, this place feels… different. It’s buzzing with an energy that’s almost alive, a sense of invention, chaos, and genius wrapped together in steel and glass.

Bruce greets you at the entrance with that warm, shy smile you’ve known all your life. He wraps you in a hug, a bit more tightly than usual. You can feel the tension in his shoulders, as if he’s not fully relaxed even now.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” he says softly, but you see the gratitude in his eyes. “It’s not exactly the safest place.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a look. “I think I can handle a bunch of scientists, Bruce. Besides, I wanted to see your new lab. Heard a lot about it.” You grin mischievously, “Plus, someone has to make sure you’re eating more than just coffee and anxiety.”

Bruce laughs, a rare sound, but it’s short-lived as his eyes dart to the side, toward the glass elevator in the corner. You follow his gaze, and that’s when you see him.

Tony Stark.

He’s standing there, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing an expensive-looking suit that screams "I know I’m good-looking." His eyes, hidden behind those signature shades, are locked onto you as if he’s already figured out who you are—or at least is very interested in finding out.

“Banner didn’t mention he had a sister,” Tony says, pushing himself off the wall with a smooth motion and walking toward you. There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he takes off his sunglasses, revealing those sharp brown eyes that have probably charmed half the world.

Bruce tenses beside you, and you can practically hear his internal groan. “Tony…” Bruce warns, stepping slightly in front of you as if that’s going to stop the man known for his lack of boundaries.

“Relax, Big Guy,” Tony replies with a smirk, eyes flicking from Bruce to you. “I’m just being friendly. You must be the famous Dr. Banner’s sister. I can see the resemblance—brains and beauty. A rare combination.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “You must be Tony Stark. I’ve heard about you. A lot.”

Bruce shoots you a look as if to say don’t encourage him, but you ignore it. Tony grins wider, and suddenly, you understand why people say he’s hard to resist. There’s an effortless charm about him that feels like it could pull you into his orbit without even trying.

“All good things, I hope,” Tony quips, stepping a little closer. He looks at you, his gaze more intense now, as if he’s trying to figure you out, and you feel a spark, something electric between the two of you.

Bruce, sensing the shift, clears his throat and steps firmly between the two of you. “Tony, she’s just visiting. Don’t… start.”

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender. “Who, me? Start what? I’m just being a gracious host. Isn’t that right, uh…” He pauses, clearly fishing for your name.

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Y/N.”

Tony smiles, repeating your name as if testing how it feels. “Y/N. Lovely name. So, Y/N, how do you feel about guided tours? I happen to know a guy who gives the best ones around here.”

Bruce groans. “She’s not here for a tour. She’s here to see me.”

Tony shoots Bruce a sidelong glance, pretending to look hurt. “Oh, come on, don’t be so overprotective. She’s a grown woman. She can decide who she wants to spend time with.”

You raise an eyebrow, finding the banter between the two amusing. “You two bicker like an old married couple,” you comment, laughing softly.

Bruce shoots you a look that says, not helping, while Tony laughs, clearly delighted. “See? She’s got a sense of humor. I like her already.” He gives you another one of those smiles that could probably melt steel.

Bruce sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Y/N, seriously, he’s… trouble.”

You grin, stepping closer to your brother and nudging him with your elbow. “Relax, Bruce. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

Before Bruce can protest further, Tony steps in with a dramatic flair. “How about this, we have dinner. You, me, Banner over here, though he might just sulk in the corner, what do you say?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can tell Tony’s not exactly asking as a casual invitation. There’s something more there, something sparking between the two of you that’s undeniable. You glance at Bruce, who looks ready to protest again, but before he can say anything, you smile and look back at Tony.

“I’d like that.”

Bruce stares at you like you’ve just betrayed him, but Tony’s smile turns into something a little softer, something real beneath the playful mask. “Great. How’s tonight?”

Later that evening, you’re standing in front of the full-length mirror in your temporary room at Stark Tower, second-guessing your outfit for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s simple but elegant—a sleek black dress that’s casual enough for dinner but makes you feel confident. You inhale deeply, trying to steady your nerves. You’ve been on dates before, but this is Tony Stark, and there’s something about him that has you on edge, in a good way.

A knock at the door interrupts your thoughts, and you open it to find Bruce standing there, arms crossed, looking as anxious as you feel.

“You’re really doing this?” he asks, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and disbelief.

You shrug, trying to play it off, though your heart is racing. “It’s just dinner, Bruce.”

“With Tony?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, his expression all too knowing. “He’s not exactly… subtle. And he doesn’t just ‘do’ dinner.”

You roll your eyes, stepping past him into the hallway. “I’m a grown woman, remember? You don’t have to worry.”

Bruce follows you, lowering his voice as you both head toward the elevator. “I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about him.” He presses the elevator button a little too hard. “Tony’s got a reputation. You know that.”

You stop, turning to face him, your expression softening. “Bruce, I appreciate you looking out for me, really. But I know what I’m doing. I’m not some starry-eyed girl.”

Bruce sighs, clearly unconvinced but unable to argue. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You give him a reassuring smile and squeeze his arm. “I’ll be fine. And besides, it’s just one dinner. If it goes badly, I can always punch him in the face.”

Bruce chuckles at that, though you can see he’s still tense. “Just… be careful, okay? He’s charming, but he’s not always as easy to handle as he seems.”

Before you can respond, the elevator doors open with a soft ding, and there’s Tony, leaning against the wall inside like he’s in some kind of movie. His suit is gone, replaced by dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket—still effortlessly stylish but much more relaxed. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he gives a low whistle, clearly impressed.

“Well, don’t you look stunning,” he says, that smooth, playful tone back in full force.

Bruce glares at him immediately. “Tony—”

“Relax, Banner,” Tony cuts him off, straightening and stepping out of the elevator to offer you his arm. “I promise to have her back in one piece. Maybe two, if we get into any trouble, but that’s half the fun, right?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you loop your arm through Tony’s, ignoring the death glare Bruce is sending his way. “I’ll text you if I need backup,” you say over your shoulder to Bruce, who mutters something about regretting this decision.

As you and Tony step into the elevator, you can’t help but feel the electric charge between you again, stronger this time. The doors close, and for a moment, there’s a silence that feels almost intimate. Tony glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

The restaurant Tony chooses is, of course, one of the most exclusive in the city. It’s the kind of place with mood lighting, impossibly polite waitstaff, and a menu without prices. As you both walk in, it’s clear everyone knows exactly who Tony is, and they give you both a wide berth as you’re led to a private table in the back.

The moment you sit down, Tony leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head as he studies you with that same intensity from earlier. “So, tell me about yourself, Y/N. What’s it like growing up with Banner as a brother? I imagine it’s all science fairs and controlled explosions?”

You chuckle, relaxing a little as you lean forward. “It’s a lot of science, yeah. And explosions. But Bruce is… different now. He used to be more carefree, even a little reckless, before everything happened with the Hulk.”

Tony’s expression softens, a flicker of something more serious passing through his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen how much he carries around with him. He doesn’t talk about it, but… I get it. The weight of it.”

You nod, surprised by the empathy in Tony’s voice. “He’s still my big brother, though. He’s always been protective, even when I didn’t need it.”

Tony smirks, leaning forward slightly. “Yeah, I noticed that. He looked like he wanted to murder me earlier.”

You grin. “That’s his default mode when it comes to guys showing any interest in me.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “So you’re saying there’s interest?”

You give him a playful look. “I think it’s obvious, don’t you?”

He laughs, the sound rich and genuine. “Yeah, I’m not exactly subtle.”

The banter between you flows easily, and as the evening goes on, you find yourself more and more drawn to him. Despite his reputation, Tony is surprisingly attentive, his jokes never crossing the line into arrogance, and the way he looks at you—it’s like you’re the only person in the room.

By the time dessert arrives, you’re leaning in close, the conversation growing quieter, more intimate. There’s a pause, the kind where you know something is about to shift.

“So,” Tony says, his voice soft but teasing, “what do you think Bruce is doing right now? Pacin’ around the lab, making some kind of anti-Stark protocol?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Probably. You’re lucky he didn’t plant a tracking device on me.”

Tony grins. “I wouldn’t put it past him. But don’t worry, I’d still find a way to steal you away.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, everything else fades. It’s just you and him, the electricity sparking again. You can feel it, the inevitable pull, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel the need to resist it.

The night goes on, and by the time Tony walks you back to Stark Tower, there’s no denying the connection between you. As you stand outside your door, Tony hesitates for a moment, then flashes you that signature smile.

“So, when’s round two?”

You smile back, heart racing. “Soon.”

And with that, he leans in, just close enough that you feel the heat of him, before he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says softly, before turning and walking down the hall, leaving you with a smile you can’t quite wipe off your face.

Days pass, and you find yourself seeing Tony more often than you expected. It’s not like you’re seeking him out—he just happens to pop up every time you visit Bruce’s lab, or when you’re wandering Stark Tower. And each time, you can’t help but feel the magnetic pull between you growing stronger.

After a few more flirtatious encounters and subtle touches, Tony finally convinces you to go out on a proper date. You’re not sure what to expect—especially considering how not subtle he is—but Tony surprises you by choosing something… quiet.

The date begins with Tony picking you up in one of his sleek cars, of course. He’s dressed down again, but still looks effortlessly good in dark jeans and a leather jacket, while you opted for something comfortable but cute—a simple dress with a jacket that flutters in the wind as you step out.

“You ready?” he asks, opening the door for you. You nod, stepping in and giving him a curious look.

“Where exactly are we going this time?”

Tony smirks, but there’s a softness to it. “I figured we could skip the fancy restaurant scene tonight. I’ve got something a little more… low-key in mind.”

Low-key? From Tony Stark? You’re intrigued.

He drives you out of the city, and you find yourself staring at the skyline as it slowly fades into the distance. Before long, you arrive at a secluded spot overlooking the water, the city lights shimmering in the distance. Tony pulls up to a small, private dock where a sleek boat is waiting.

You raise an eyebrow. “This is your idea of low-key?”

Tony grins, holding out his hand to help you onto the boat. “I never said I wasn’t going to impress you.”

The boat glides smoothly across the water, the sound of the waves creating a peaceful backdrop. The night is clear, stars twinkling above, and the city skyline looks like a sea of jewels in the distance. Tony has arranged for a picnic—laid out perfectly on the boat’s deck, complete with a bottle of wine and an array of food that’s surprisingly simple but delicious.

As you sit together, talking and laughing, you realize how easy it is to be with him. There’s no awkwardness, no pressure. Just the two of you, sharing stories about your pasts, your work, and even your hopes for the future. Tony opens up more than you expected, letting his usual sarcasm and wit drop in moments to reveal the man behind the genius.

“So,” he says after a long silence, his voice soft but with that signature playful edge, “do you think Bruce would kill me if I kissed you right now?”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze on you, your heart pounding in your chest. You’ve been waiting for this moment, the tension between you having built up over the last few days. Without hesitation, you lean in, closing the distance between you.

“I think Bruce will get over it,” you whisper, just before your lips meet his.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, and everything you didn’t know you were waiting for. There’s something about it—something that feels real, like the start of something more. Tony’s hands gently cup your face, his touch soft but confident, and you can feel the heat of his skin as he pulls you closer.

When you finally pull away, breathless, Tony’s lips curve into a smile. “Okay, well, now I’m officially dead when we tell him.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “You might be, but at least you’ll go out with a bang.”

A week later, you and Tony decide it’s time to break the news to Bruce. You’ve kept it quiet long enough, and besides, Tony is itching to “gloat,” as he puts it, in front of Bruce. You, on the other hand, are more concerned about Bruce’s reaction—because no matter how old you are, telling your big brother that you’re dating Tony Stark feels like walking into a minefield.

The three of you are in the lab—well, technically, you and Bruce are going over some research notes, while Tony is just hanging around, making sarcastic comments and tinkering with some new tech he’s building. The tension between you and Tony has been pretty noticeable, though, and you know Bruce isn’t an idiot. He’s probably already suspicious.

Finally, Tony clears his throat dramatically, stepping between you and Bruce. “Banner, there’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Bruce looks up from his computer, pushing his glasses up on his nose, already frowning. “What did you do now?”

Tony grins. “Oh, it’s not what I did. It’s more about what we—” he gestures between you and himself—“are doing. Together.”

Bruce freezes, blinking in confusion as he looks between you and Tony. “Together? Like… working on a project?”

Tony tilts his head, trying to suppress a laugh. “Well, you could say that. More like a long-term, hands-on collaboration. You know, with kissing.”

You shoot Tony a look, and he just shrugs, clearly enjoying himself.

Bruce’s eyes widen as he processes this, and then his gaze locks onto you, completely baffled. “Wait. Are you saying… you and Tony…?” His voice is rising, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

You bite your lip, stepping forward. “Bruce, I know this is probably a shock, but—”

“A shock?” Bruce cuts in, standing up from his chair, his voice going an octave higher. “You’re dating Tony Stark? My Tony Stark? The same guy who blew up half a city block because he was ‘experimenting with mini rockets’?”

Tony looks offended. “Okay, first of all, it was only a quarter of a block, and it was mostly contained. Second, this is about us, Bruce, not my tech adventures.”

Bruce looks between the two of you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tries to form words. Finally, he throws his hands up in the air, pacing back and forth. “I can’t believe this. I leave you alone for five minutes, and you start dating the most reckless genius on the planet!”

Tony folds his arms, looking proud. “Reckless? Genius? You flatter me, Banner.”

Bruce turns to you, shaking his head. “Are you sure about this? I mean, this is Tony. He’s—”

You step forward, putting a hand on your brother’s arm. “I’m sure, Bruce. Tony makes me happy. And believe me, I know what I’m getting into.”

Bruce groans, covering his face with his hand. “I need to sit down. Or maybe lie down.”

Tony claps Bruce on the back, grinning. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll take good care of her. Besides, I’m not that bad. You could’ve ended up with someone way worse, like—”

“Tony,” you cut him off, giving him a pointed look.

Bruce sinks into his chair, staring at the ceiling like he’s having an existential crisis. “I just… I can’t believe this. I thought it was bad when you started hanging out with him. Now you’re dating him?”

Tony shrugs, looking smug. “Love works in mysterious ways, Banner. Even for geniuses like us.”

Bruce groans louder, shaking his head. “This is a nightmare. I need a lab break. Or maybe a tranquilizer.”

You and Tony exchange amused glances as Bruce continues to mutter to himself, clearly still processing the news. Finally, Tony leans in, whispering in your ear, “Well, that went better than expected. I’d say we’re off to a great start.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you watch Bruce pace the lab, still muttering about “impending disasters” and “Tony Stark of all people.” Maybe Bruce will need a little more time to come around, but deep down, you know he’ll accept it—eventually.

Dating Tony Stark comes with a lot of perks. Stark Tower itself is like a futuristic playground—fully automated, filled with high-tech gadgets, and with the best view of the New York skyline. It’s also full of surprises, many of which involve Tony pushing the boundaries of propriety. Especially when it comes to public displays of affection. And especially when Bruce is within a ten-foot radius.

Since you and Tony officially got together, life at Stark Tower has been anything but boring. Mornings usually involve you trying to grab breakfast in peace while Tony insists on inventing new ways to make coffee (most of which end in small explosions). Afternoons might be spent in his lab—where you’re technically helping him, though he tends to get distracted by the fact that you’re there, which leads to less science and more stolen kisses.

And then there’s Bruce, poor Bruce, who is constantly trying to ignore the fact that his best friend is now dating his sister. Tony, of course, makes it his personal mission to remind him at every possible opportunity.

One afternoon, you’re in the lab with Bruce, going over some research notes. The air is filled with the quiet hum of machinery, and you’re both deep in concentration. At least, until the door swings open and Tony strolls in, whistling as if he owns the place (which, to be fair, he does).

“Hey, Banner! How’s my favorite big green guy today?” Tony calls out, already making a beeline for you.

Bruce looks up from his computer with a wary expression. “Tony, please. Not now. We’re working.”

Tony waves him off as if this is a minor inconvenience. “Yeah, yeah, science and all that.” He slides right up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Hey, gorgeous. How’s your day going?”

You smile, shaking your head but leaning back into him. “It was peaceful. Until now.”

Bruce lets out an exaggerated sigh, clearly trying to focus on his screen. “Seriously, Tony. Do you have to do that? Here?”

Tony grins, clearly enjoying how easily he gets under Bruce’s skin. “What, this?” He leans down further and plants a dramatic kiss on your cheek, making a point to linger there.

You laugh, nudging him gently. “Tony…”

Bruce groans, rubbing his temples like he’s developing a stress headache. “Do you really have to kiss her in front of me? Can’t you just—wait until I’m not around?”

Tony straightens up, looking completely innocent. “Oh, come on, Banner. We’re in a relationship. It’s perfectly normal. Besides, we could be doing much worse things in front of you.”

“Tony!” You elbow him in the side, though you can’t help but laugh at the horrified look on Bruce’s face.

Bruce looks like he’s about to keel over. “I’m begging you. No details.”

Tony leans in again, this time whispering just loud enough for Bruce to hear, “Don’t worry. I’ll spare you the juicy stuff.”

Bruce groans louder, closing his laptop with a snap and standing up. “You two are impossible. I’m going to the roof. At least the air up there is free of… whatever this is.”

As Bruce marches toward the door, Tony throws his arm around your shoulders, looking as smug as ever. “Come on, Bruce! You’ve got to get used to it eventually. I mean, what’s a little affection between friends? And family. And soulmates.” He winks at you, and you shake your head, laughing at his antics.

Bruce doesn’t even turn around, just waves a hand dismissively as he walks out. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Enjoy your soulmate time.”

The door slides shut behind him, leaving you and Tony alone in the lab. Tony turns to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I think he’s starting to come around. He only looks half as horrified as he did last week.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Guilty as charged.” Tony leans in and kisses you again, this time properly—slow, warm, and completely distracting.

You pull back just enough to speak. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you? Making him squirm?”

Tony grins, brushing his nose against yours. “It’s one of life’s simple pleasures. Right up there with inventing new things and kissing you.”

Of course, this isn’t the only time Tony manages to fluster Bruce. Over the next few weeks, he finds increasingly creative ways to engage in PDA whenever Bruce is nearby. Like the time Bruce is trying to explain gamma radiation theory, and Tony, who claims he’s listening, suddenly pulls you into his lap in the middle of the lab.

“Tony, what are you doing?” you hiss, laughing despite yourself as he casually wraps an arm around your waist.

“What? I’m just getting comfortable,” Tony says innocently. “Keep going, Bruce. This is fascinating.”

Bruce stares at him, completely bewildered. “You’re not listening. You’re… distracting her.”

“I’m a multitasker,” Tony quips, giving you a wink. “I can listen and hold my girlfriend at the same time. It’s a gift.”

Bruce throws his hands up in the air, clearly at his limit. “I’m done. You two deserve each other.” He grabs his tablet and stalks out of the room, muttering under his breath about “public decency.”

Tony chuckles, watching Bruce leave, then turns back to you. “What do you think? Too much?”

You shake your head, laughing. “He’s going to have a meltdown at some point, and it’s going to be entirely your fault.”

Tony shrugs, leaning back in his chair and pulling you closer. “Eh, he’ll get over it. Eventually. Probably. Besides, it’s good for him. Builds character.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling. Life with Tony may be chaotic, but it’s never dull. And there’s something oddly comforting about the way he teases Bruce—it’s like the three of you are caught up in this weird little family dynamic, where you’re the calm center and Tony and Bruce are constantly bickering, but in a way that somehow works.

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch in the common area, curled up with Tony, watching a movie. Bruce walks in, clearly intending to grab something from the kitchen, but the moment he sees you both snuggled up, he pauses in the doorway like he’s reconsidering his life choices.

Tony, ever the opportunist, notices immediately. “Hey, Bruce! Wanna join us?” He pats the space next to him on the couch. “There’s plenty of room.”

Bruce stares at him, deadpan. “I’m not sitting next to you while you’re doing… that.”

You blink, glancing between them. “Doing what? We’re just watching a movie.”

Bruce narrows his eyes, pointing at you two. “You’re snuggling. It’s unnatural.”

Tony grins. “Oh, come on. It’s perfectly natural for two people in love to cuddle on the couch. Don’t be so repressed, Banner. You’re going to make yourself even grayer.”

Bruce sighs, looking exhausted just by the sight of you both. “You know what? I’ll just—” He gestures vaguely toward the kitchen, like he’s going to hide in there for a while.

Tony watches Bruce retreat to the kitchen with the kind of smug satisfaction that only comes from knowing you’ve successfully pushed your best friend’s buttons. He leans back into the couch, pulling you closer as the movie continues to play in the background.

“You think we should go easy on him?” you ask, glancing toward the kitchen where Bruce is clearly pretending to be busy with something, probably plotting ways to avoid you and Tony for the foreseeable future.

Tony shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Go easy? Nah. He needs this. It’s good for him. Keeps him on his toes.”

You chuckle, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re going to give him an ulcer one of these days, you know that, right?”

Tony grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Eh, it’s character-building. Besides, deep down, he loves us. He’ll come around. Eventually.”

Just then, Bruce reemerges from the kitchen, holding a bottle of water and clearly trying to act like he’s not noticing you two wrapped up in each other. You swear you see him wince when Tony casually starts tracing circles on your arm with his fingers.

Bruce takes a long, exaggerated sip from the bottle, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “You guys, uh… planning on going to bed soon?” His tone is hopeful, like maybe you’ll take the hint and give him some peace.

Tony looks at him, perfectly deadpan. “Oh, we’re definitely going to bed. Just… probably not to sleep. You know how it is, Banner.”

Your jaw drops, and you elbow Tony sharply in the ribs, stifling your laughter as Bruce’s face goes through several stages of sheer horror.

“Tony!” you whisper-shout, trying to keep it together.

Bruce lets out a strangled groan, covering his face with one hand. “Oh my God. No. No, no, no. I did not need to hear that.” He points at Tony with a glare. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

Tony tilts his head, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re just being affectionate. Perfectly normal, right, sweetheart?” He gives you a sly smile, completely enjoying this little game.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh as you turn to Bruce. “We’re just teasing. You know that.”

Bruce glares at Tony, who’s still smirking, clearly enjoying the whole situation far too much. “You know what? I’m just going to go up to the lab. Where there’s no… whatever this is.”

“You sure?” Tony asks, stretching out lazily on the couch. “You could hang with us. Watch a rom-com, talk about feelings, maybe even join in for a group hug—”

“NO.” Bruce cuts him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “Just… no. I’m going upstairs. Goodnight.”

With that, Bruce practically bolts for the stairs, his water bottle clutched in a death grip as he escapes the scene, muttering something about “emotional trauma.”

Once Bruce is safely out of earshot, you burst out laughing, burying your face in Tony’s chest. “You’re terrible.”

Tony just grins, looking completely unbothered. “I know. But admit it—you love me this way.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop smiling. “I do. Even if you’re a menace.”

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and when you pull back, you catch that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes again. “What do you say we make Bruce’s nightmares come true and really give him something to complain about tomorrow?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Tempting. But I think we’ve tortured him enough for one day.”

Tony sighs dramatically. “Fine. For now. But I reserve the right to increase the PDA by 20% the next time he annoys me.”

“Deal,” you say, grinning as you snuggle closer to him on the couch.

The next morning, you’re sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping on coffee and flipping through a magazine, when Bruce walks in looking surprisingly calm. He glances at you, then at the empty chair where Tony usually sits, clearly expecting another ambush.

“Where’s Stark?” Bruce asks, sounding both cautious and curious.

You smirk. “Still sleeping. He stayed up late tinkering with some new invention.”

Bruce visibly relaxes, sitting down across from you. “Good. Maybe I’ll get a few hours of peace today.”

You raise an eyebrow, pretending to be innocent. “I don’t know, Bruce. Tony might have something special planned for you today. Maybe a surprise PDA session in the lab.”

Bruce groans, rubbing his temples. “Please. I’ve been through enough. I’m getting second-hand trauma from all the smooching.”

Just then, Tony enters the kitchen, hair messy from sleep and wearing his usual loungewear, looking completely unbothered. He walks over to you and, without saying a word, plants a quick kiss on your lips. “Morning, gorgeous.”

You smile, greeting him back, while Bruce groans audibly from across the table.

“Seriously?” Bruce mutters, rolling his eyes. “It’s not even 9 a.m. and you two are already at it?”

Tony glances at Bruce, completely straight-faced. “What? A little kiss in the morning? It’s called affection, Bruce. Maybe you should try it sometime. I hear it’s great for stress reduction. You’d stop Hulking out so much.”

Bruce sighs, clearly fighting the urge to respond with anything more than an eye roll, but you can see his fingers twitching like he’s thinking about throwing his coffee mug at Tony. He takes a deep breath instead, rubbing his temples. “Tony, I know what affection is. I just don’t need to witness it at every possible moment, especially in my own kitchen.”

Tony grins, as if this was exactly the reaction he wanted. He leans down, dramatically kissing you on the cheek before turning back to Bruce. “Come on, buddy, it’s not like we’re—”

“STOP.” Bruce holds up a hand, eyes closed, clearly trying to block out whatever is about to come out of Tony’s mouth. “Just… don’t say it. I don’t need any mental images. I’m trying to not need therapy.”

You laugh into your coffee, biting your lip as you try to rein in the amusement bubbling up inside you. Tony, however, is in full-on playful mode now. He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms and grinning at Bruce like he’s enjoying this way too much.

“All I’m saying,” Tony continues, unfazed by Bruce’s growing horror, “is that you shouldn’t knock PDA until you’ve tried it. It’s very healthy, emotionally and physically. We’re setting an example for the tower. A beacon of love.”

Bruce snorts, looking at Tony like he’s lost his mind. “A beacon of something, sure.”

Tony shrugs, grabbing a piece of toast from the counter and taking a bite. “We’re adorable, and you’re just jealous.”

Bruce glares at him over his mug. “Jealous? Of what? Watching you two practically make out every time I turn around? Pass.”

You lean over, nudging Tony in the side with a grin. “I think he’s just upset because he can’t escape us. Maybe we should tone it down. Give him a break.”

Tony glances down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Tone it down? You mean, stop being ourselves? I can’t do that. It’s against my code.”

You roll your eyes, smiling as you sip your coffee. “Of course it is.”

Bruce, now finished with his coffee, stands up, clearly ready to flee the kitchen. “For the record, I’m happy for you two. Really. Just… try to keep the beacon of love at a safe distance from my workspace.”

Tony watches him head toward the door, then looks back at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, we’re definitely kissing in front of him in the lab later.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You really have a death wish, don’t you?”

Tony grins, leaning down to kiss you again, this time slower and more deliberate. “Totally worth it.”

Later that day, as you predicted, Tony finds the perfect opportunity to annoy Bruce once more. You’re both in the lab—well, you’re working, and Tony’s pretending to work while glancing at you every five minutes. Bruce is furiously typing away at his computer, clearly trying to stay in the zone and ignore whatever Tony might be planning.

As if on cue, Tony sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chin to your shoulder. “Hey,” he whispers, loud enough for Bruce to hear, “I think it’s time for a break.”

You glance over at Bruce, who is visibly tensing, fingers pausing over his keyboard as he waits for whatever Tony’s about to do. “Tony…” you warn softly, though you’re already fighting a smile.

But Tony’s already leaning in, brushing a kiss to your temple, then down to your cheek. “Come on, we’ve been working hard. We deserve a little… affection.”

Bruce makes a strangled noise, pushing away from his computer. “Please. Please don’t do this.”

Tony grins against your skin. “What? Just showing some love in the lab. Totally professional.”

Bruce stands up, throwing his hands in the air. “You know what? Fine. Make out. Hug. Whatever. I’ll just be somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away.”

Tony watches him walk to the door, calling out after him, “We’ll miss you, Banner! Try not to get too lonely!”

Bruce doesn’t even turn around, just waves a hand over his shoulder as he storms out. You watch him disappear, laughing as you turn to Tony, who is looking entirely too proud of himself.

“You know, one day, Bruce might actually snap. And it’s going to be your fault,” you tease, shaking your head.

Tony pulls you closer, his arms snug around your waist. “Nah, he loves me. Deep down. Very, very deep down.”

You roll your eyes but smile up at him. “You’re impossible.”

Tony was talking about testing some new tactics, but you thought he was talking about his armor. He wanted to see how you could handle his fingers.

You wanted to try mutual masturbation. You could tell that Tony was loving it.

Tony couldn't resist once he saw you in bed with the nightgown he had just bought you.

Fucking you while on his break.

Tony feeling you through your dress on the way to a party.

Part 2 (Both videos) - You kept teasing Tony at the party once you arrived, resting your hand on his thigh beneath the table and lowering your hand below the hem of your dress. Once you two got home, Tony would fuck your teasing adittude out of you.

Tony fucking you with a custom made dildo of his cock, just for you. He loved driving his palm to the hilt, your sensitive clit grinding against his skin with ease.

You had both planned a beach day, but you two decided there was time for a quick detour.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Ben fucking you doggy style so he can see how far he stretched your poor hole :( the stretching in question….

⋆.𐙚 ̊ “yeah? you like it when i choke you, darlin’? no? but honey, your pussy’s dripping…”

⋆.𐙚 ̊ he loves to fuck your cunt but will only cum in your ass </3

⋆.𐙚 ̊ with the amount of stamina Ben has (and the lack of protection you use), you’d be covered in his cum an hour in…

⋆.𐙚 ̊ ben fills you up just so he can watch it pour out

⋆.𐙚 ̊ sometimes, you can’t be bothered with what Ben’s doing to you

⋆.𐙚 ̊ there’s times when Ben refuses to fuck your pussy…

⋆.𐙚 ̊ he’ll stuff your ass with anything… including his piss

⋆.𐙚 ̊ “god you’re so messy when i eat your pretty pussy, sweetheart…”

⋆.𐙚 ̊ he’s used you so much, he can almost put his whole hand in your cunt

⋆.𐙚 ̊ Ben who likes to spank you just for the hell of it

⋆.𐙚 ̊ he likes the taste of his own cum. he would never admit it though..

i hope these are good.. but anyway dean version of my sam drabble out soon then maybe another short fanfic as well ;3 mwah love u guys

The party is loud beneath you, a blend of loud music and singing, young adults from your shitty college shouting and drinking. You’re absolutely drunk, and whining softly as your boyfriend rocks back and forth, his hips rolling forward, doing little to provide you with any sort of relief.

It’s a random bedroom that you’re in, a random bed that you’re being fucked on, and your boyfriend is grunting and whining into your neck, sloppily kissing at it, his hips moving with little to no rhythm. You’re whining, your own hips shifting, poorly trying to adjust the way you’re positioned so maybe he’ll hit the correct spot. He isn’t.

You’re glad that you’re drunk right now, doped up on something else too, anything to make the painfully unsatisfying sex worth it—you know it won’t be; you’ve never orgasmed in your life because of your boyfriend.

He was the one who dragged you to this party, told you it would be a fun way to spend your Saturday now; drugs, alcohol, sex on a random person’s bed, and now the cops busting down the door.

Your boyfriend immediately stops the second the door swings open, and two tall men stand there, wearing their uniforms and holding flashlights; they’re staring at the two of you, eyebrows knotted in concern at what they had just walked into. Two people having sex.

The music must’ve been too loud, and you were too in your head to realize that the cops were busting the joint—probably a noise complaint, and the fact that some people were drinking, mostly the teens who snuck in from high school, and were now being shoved in the back of police cruisers.

“C’mon, get outta here, kids,” the voice drawls, and it sounds a bit too familiar. “Not in trouble… just be on your way, and you’ll be fine.”

As your boyfriend crawls off of you and you’re scrambling for your shirt, you realize who is currently standing there; it’s Beau Arlen, the head sheriff, and your dad’s best friend. Your eyes widen, your mouth agape, and you hesitantly slide on your flimsy shirt.

“Don’t look at me like that, punk,” Beau murmurs when your boyfriend nudges him, bumping the Sheriff’s shoulder, and his eyes narrow as the kid leaves. “Hurry up, c’mon, darlin’.”

Beau seems not to realize that it’s you, currently hunched over, trying to casually slide on your denim skirt, purposely bowing your head to make sure your hair falls in front of your face. You stand up and out of the random bed, and begin to walk towards him shyly. He grabs your upper arm.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, stopping you. “You okay? What’re you doin’ here?” Beau suddenly asks, his hand lifting to cup your cheek.

He gazes down at you, and all he sees are those wide, innocent eyes staring up at him, all glossed over and hazy, and he knows that you’re clearly drunk. He glances over his shoulder at the other sheriff, and sighs.

“What’re you thinkin’?” He whispers, setting his lips. “Why’re you at a party like this?” He continues, his thumb swiping beneath your eye, before he rests it against your shoulder, gently rubbing.

“Please… please don’t tell my dad,” you plead, and Beau is currently looking over his shoulder as another sheriff begins walking towards the scene. “Please…”

“Hey… hey, I won’t, darlin’,” he shakes his head and looks back at you, carefully pulling you into a hug, his hand resting against the back of your head. “I’ll let you ride back with me, okay? Ain’t gotta worry about me tellin’ on you.”

Beau holds you close to him, and you feel like you’re seventeen again; your face pressed into his shoulder, crying because of your parents' divorce, and he was reassuring you, telling you that he’d be the one to take care of you if he had to—you stayed with your dad instead, making it easier for Beau to visit every day.

“Hands behind your back,” he mumbles as she pulls away from the hug, and your eyebrows furrow. “Can’t walk past the others and have them seein’ you like this, and not handcuffed,” she explains, rubbing his scruff.

You let out a drunken groan and barely turn around, stumbling over your own feet as you lazily put your hands behind your back. Beau takes the cuffs off his belt, carefully wraps them around your wrists, and pushes them against your lower back. His eyes flick to you, watching your back arch and your head tip back.

It’s a shameful walk back to the cruiser. A few people you know are on the steps of the porch, being questioned as to why they’re smoking pot at two in the morning, a few others being caught for public indecency—yeah, you should be on that list too, and Beau is letting you off the hook, for some reason.

“You got her?” Another sheriff calls to Beau, and he nods, giving him a thumbs up, all while he leads you to the car.

“Where’s my boyfriend?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder at Beau, and he sucks in through his teeth.

“Probably gettin’ a new one ripped by another Sheriff,” he says plainly with a shrug, reaching over to open the backseat. “You’ll see him in the mornin’, sweetheart,” he reassures, his hand lightly pushing your head down, helping you into the vehicle. 

The back of the car is spinning, and you whine softly, your wrists shifting in the tight cuffs, and you lean your head against the window. You can see Beau telling others about you, gesturing to the drunken girl in the backseat, and how he can handle it all—he’s covering for you, of course.

“Alright, darlin’,” Beau groans as he opens the driver’s seat, huffing as he takes a seat. “You doin’ good back there, kid?”

“Please… don’t tell my dad,” you whine again and shake your head, gazing at Beau in the rear view. “He’ll kill me… and… and he thinks I’m studying… and, oh my god, he thinks I’m a virgin… he still thinks… my boyfriend is my best friend,” you drunkenly babble, and Beau sits there, soaking it in.

Beau’s used to picking up drunk teens and young adults, easily negotiating with them, but also giving them the punishment they deserve for whatever the hell they did, but of course, he’s going easier on you, and there’s a pressure in his chest when you bring it. Virginity.

He’s not sure why he grips the steering wheel a bit harder when you mention it; he saw it with his own eyes: the girl he used to push on a swing, now being caught in a frat house, while her boyfriend fucks her in a random bedroom. It was the worst-case scenario for him, and he was trying to play off the sickness. 

“Told you I wouldn’t say anythin’,” Beau reassures, pulling onto the road, the tires rumbling against it. “Secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you… thank you, daddy,” you sigh softly, leaning your head against the window, and you don’t realize the word that fell out of your mouth.

You meant to say his name, but too many thoughts were swirling in your brain; the fact he’s your dad’s best friend, the way he’s acted like your dad far too many times, and how horny you are from your boyfriend’s inability to fuck you right. And it all led to one, painfully awkward thing: calling him daddy. 

“Yeah… yeah, you’re welcome, baby,” he says, his Texan accent thick and low, and he awkwardly adjusts his hips against his seat. He swallows hard and reaches over, turning up the radio to end the silence. 

You lift your head. “Beau… I don’t wanna go home.”

“Yeah?” He mumbles, looking at you in the rear view mirror. “Where you wanna go? Your boyfriend’s?”

“Your place…” You mumble, staring at his green eyes, biting your lip. “I… I’ll get in trouble at mine… don’t even know where my boyfriend is…”

Beau grips the steering wheel tighter and swallows hard. “Yeah… that’s fine, kid, my place it is.”

Beau’s eyes glance in the rearview mirror as he drives down the road, peeking at you in the back; you’re quiet, handcuffed, and drunk, and he’s not used to that; you’re usually a laughing mess, even when you were just a girl. 

The cruiser ends up in front of his small trailer, on the outskirts of the town, and he sighs, getting out and going around, and opening the car door for you. You would, but you’re currently handcuffed, and a bit too drunk to hold your head up.

“C’mon, kid,” Beau mumbles softly, grabbing you and carefully taking you out of the vehicle. “Watch your step.”

He takes you towards the house, watching your feet trip over themselves, your heels making it a bit harder to walk, and he smiles at your giggles, shaking his head. He thinks it’s a bit cute, how drunk you are.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” you tell Beau when you walk into the small house, your eyes gazing around his space. “Let’s… let’s watch a movie, let’s… yeah, let’s do something!”

“No way, darlin’,” Beau laughs and shakes his head, still gripping your hands behind your back, guiding you towards the couch. “You’re drunk and need to sleep off this mess.”

“No…” You whine and shake your head, feeling him carefully undo the cuffs. “Movie… we should watch one.”

“I said no, kid,” he shoots back, and you whine again, slumping over and sitting onto the couch.

Beau stands before you; his hands are on his hips, and he’s in uniform; his holster filled with weapons, his eyes slightly narrowed at the drunk girl before him, and his badge glints in the orange lighting in the small house. You tip your head back.

“Okay… no movie,” you agree, and shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “What… what about cuddles? Cuddles… we should cuddle.”

Beau laughs. “No… no, sweetheart, the only thing we’ll be doin’ is gettin’ you to sleep.”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut, your nose scrunching in slight defiance at his words. He feels bad, a flicker of guilt in his stomach, and he sighs, taking a seat beside you on the couch instead.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, his arm stretching behind the couch, and takes your shoulders. 

Beau is big and filling up half the couch, and your eyes immediately glance down, shamelessly looking at the way he manspreads, how his thick thighs look right now, and how his belt presses against his waist. You swallow hard and lazily reach over, your hand on his badge.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” you drawl lazily, giggling as you rub your thumb over it. “Makes you sound like… like a scary man, like you’ll… do bad things to me.”

Beau watches your eyes flick up in the moment, and he wets his lips, blaming that look in your eyes on the drugs and alcohol in your system. He scoffs and adjusts his hips.

“I deal with dangerous people,” he says calmly and nods, looking back at you. “I need to be a scary man.”

“You don’t scare me,” you slur out and shake your head. “I don’t think you could ever scare me…”

“Scared a few of those kids at that party,” Beau smiles, biting his lip too. “Maybe you’re just a tough girl?”

You giggle. “No… I just know you.”

“Ah,” he nods, wetting his lips again and looking around his house. “Smart girl, then.”

“Smartest girl you know,” you mumble, biting your lip and moving to rest your head against his broad chest. “Mmm… am I the smartest girl you know, Mr. Arlen?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods, gently rubbing your shoulder.

“Prettiest girl you know?” You add, nuzzling your face into the fabric of his shirt.

He pauses. “Sure thing.”

You lift your head, grinning at him, and your eyes flash down to his lips; they’re slightly parted and soft, his scruff being a bit overgrown, and he notices the way you’re ogling him. He lifts his hand and gently cups the back of your head, pulling your hair out of your face.

“Beau,” you mumble, biting your lip, inching your body a bit closer to his. “You’re not gonna tell my dad I’m having sex, right?”

He pauses and swallows hard. He hesitantly nods, a bit caught off guard by how close you are, and by the way you’re looking at his lips, and biting your own. He’s already reassured you a few times.

“The sex… wasn’t even worth it,” you babble and shake your head, resting your chin on his chest. “So… so bad, Beau, my boyfriend can’t fuck.”

Beau raises his eyebrows and awkwardly looks around the room, still running his fingers through your hair. 

“Ain’t my… business, sweetheart,” he shakes his head and sighs, hoping you don’t notice the bulge in his pants and how it’ll push against you if you shift a bit.

“How much did you see?” You ask curiously, smiling.

“Enough of it,” he replies, shaking his head.

“Enough to know… he can’t fuck,” you add on, and Beau inhales. He nods.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbles, sliding his hand down to gently rub your upper back.

You blink slowly and swallow hard, and you carefully drag your hand up his thigh, and then you do it, you cup the bulge in his pants. His eyes widen, and his jaw goes slack, and you can’t help but grin—he’s so hard.

“Darlin’—“ Beau starts, trying to explain, but you help him out and press your lips against his.

Beau goes against every moral he has; he’s kissing back, his lips moving slowly against yours, tasting the alcohol on your mouth, and your tongue lazily slides into his mouth. You’re fully making out now, and his hand finds your hip, helping you onto his lap. You grin.

It’s a strange thing between you, how easily you’re making out, how simple it feels, and how naturally it is for the both of you. There’s an immediate rhythm, your saliva mixing, and his lips chasing yours, your tongues colliding and locking, his hands gently holding your hips. He’s always been a gentle man.

“Ain’t right,” Beau mumbles as he pulls back, but he’s kissing your neck now, and your eyes are closing again. “This ain’t right, sweetheart…”

“Don’t care… I don’t care,” you breathe out, and you’re already rocking your hips, letting your skirt ride up, giving your body direct access to the bulge in his pants.

“Can tell you don’t… always been fuckin’ reckless,” he breathes out, his lips moving over your neck still, and his hands encourage you to move back and forth. “Not bein’ a good girl…”

There’s a pause, and Beau is already reaching down, unbuckling his belt, and you’re smiling, giggling as he fumbles with it. It’s urgent, like his hands are moving quicker than his mind, and if he can outrun his thoughts, it’ll be easier to fuck you.

You shift back, and you watch Beau pull his hardened cock out of his pants. He watches your drunk eyes widen in real time; now your jaw is going slack; he’s big, bigger than anything you’ve seen with your two eyes, and he’s trying not to get cocky.

“Oh, my gosh,” you breathe out, the drink words spilling out of your mouth. “That’s… that’s not fitting,” you mumble, shaking your head.

“Told you that you were a tough girl,” he mumbles, his eyes finding yours, and his hand is sliding up your skirt. “Prove me right.”

Your lips part, and you can feel Beau pushing your underwear aside, just a swipe of his two thick fingers, and your hands find his shoulder. You grip them tightly as your hips lift, and he’s aligning himself, already knowing you’re wetter than you should be.

You feel the thick tip, his head prodding against your entrance, and you breathe out, taking a deep breath as he begins guiding you, helping you—he almost feels bad that he’s so big, and that your face is contorting in ways that reveal only pain.

“You’re okay, baby,” Beau breathes out, holding onto your hips, helping you fully sink. “You’re… yeah, you’re okay.”

There are helpless, drunk sounds leaving your mouth; all whines and mewls as you try to adjust to his thick cock that’s somehow fitting inside of you right now. You can feel it all in your stomach, that steady pressure, and his own head tips back against the couch cushion.

“So tight, sweetheart,” he breathes out again, and now he’s guiding you to rock. “C’mon, you’re a brave girl,” he eggs on, helping you move your hips.

Your movements are silly and hesitant, barely there drunken shifts, and he’s almost smiling—yeah, your boyfriend clearly can’t fuck you properly, and your vague inexperience is shining through you.

“God, you’ve never… done this before,” he observes, and the loud whine is a confession that, no, you’ve been on top of your boyfriend. “Poor thing, Christ…”

Beau is helping you move back and forth, his thick fingers pressing against your hips, finding the fact that your skirt is just pushed up to be oddly sexy—the urgency was sexy; this whole desperate act is sexy.

“Atta girl, look at you,” he nods, looking up at you, watching your head tip back in awe, finding more pleasure in these seconds. “Keep goin’, doin’ real good for me, baby…”

He’s assisting your hips, helping you grind, all while including that little bounce that helps Beau get off too. It’s a perfect tango that neither of you want to stop, even if it’s with your dad’s best friend. 

“Mmm… good girl, perfect,” he praises some more, words you usually don’t hear. “Takin’ my cock so well… that pretty body of yours… learns quickly, smart girl,” he goes on, and you’re drunk off the praises. 

Beau is gazing up at you; your lips hanging open, hopeless moans leaving your mouth, all urgent and bleeding into whines, high-pitched noisss he loves more than anything. He keeps you going, keeps you rocking.

“C’mon, sweet thing… you’re doin’ so well, stretchin’ around me so good,” he adds on, lightly patting your hip. “So… so well, god, c’mon…”

It almost makes Beau mad, knowing your boyfriend has access to this all of the damn time, and gives you the lousiest, worst sex of all time. He clenches his teeth, feeling himself getting close, and he knows that you are too.

“Fillin’ you up… how does that sound, darlin’?” Beau asks, panting softly, not grunting. “Sound good? Lettin’ me fill you up?”

“Mhm—mhm,” you mumble out, quickly nodding, feeling his cock consistently hitting this one stupid spot, a spot your boyfriend couldn’t hit if his life depended on it.

“Yeah… yeah, atta girl,” he breathes out, knowing it’s coming. “Want you to feel all of me… wanna feel all of you, too.”

Beau’s eyes widen the second that you finish; zero warning, just a loud whine from you, your head bowing forward, your hips suffering, and god, the way you clench—it makes him cum, the sudden grip you have on him, and how it hugs every vein, and ridge. He groans, and tips his head back.

You’re both sitting there, spent. You’re practically collapsed against him, and he’s rubbing your lower back, panting, his eyes wide and gazing at the ceiling, his stray hairs sweaty and fraying against his forehead, his green eyes blown out. And you’re just out of it, absolutely drunk and high on Beau.

“Good… good girl,” he breathes out, not even sure of what to say, and he’s still rubbing your back. “You’re… god, I’m deep,” he groans, just realizing how deep inside of you he is right now. You’re just taking him all right now.

“I… I know, I know,” you babble, nodding, your face buried in his neck. “I… I make my boyfriend wear a condom.”

Beau’s eyes widen, realizing that you really let him do it raw, let him cum inside of you, zero hesitant, and your poor boyfriend is forced into wearing protection every time. It doesn’t matter you never cum, anyways.

There’s a soft sound of static, and Beau’s eyes narrow, and he sits up a bit, being careful—you’re still stuffed, and whining with each tick. 

“Arlen?” A man’s voice drones over the walkie, and his eyes widen slightly. “Pick up—more kids are fuckin’ around at a party… been gone for too long.”

Beau isn’t sure how to explain that he currently has a drunk girl, his best friend’s daughter, full of cum, and whining every time he tries to pull away.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Beau is so sweet and gentle afterwards <33. He’s right there, kissing your face, reassuring you that he loves you, that you did well. In that moment, he only wants to comfort you and make sure that you’re okay; he knows how vulnerable you get during it, and the last thing he wants is you leaving uncomfortable, sad, upset, or guilty for something that happened during it. Depending on how rough it was, he’s helping you into the bathroom, bathing you, clothing you, making sure you feel safe!!!

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Beau lovesss his hands, but absolutely adores your thighs <3 His hands are the things that get to touch you, feel you, go inside of you–they can hold your hand, and cup your face, do your hair, and also finger you, and make you suck on his fingers. He knows he has big hands and that they kindaa engulf certain parts of ur body :’) And he loves it. But omggg ur thighs!!! When they’re wrapped around his waist, or around his neck <3333 he just loves them. He loves when you wear shorts and dresses, even if u feel a lil insecure. He’ll rub them and pat them, kiss them, leaving a reallyyy nice red mark with his beard.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Beau loves when you swallow for him, but he also doesn’t mind it all over your face :( He’s a patient man, and sometimesss, swallowing isn't the easiest, but that’s okay!! He’ll cum all over your face; dripping down your cheeks and chin, onto your thighs. He thinks it's so pretty; he loves it. And your cum??? He loves it when it’s in his mouthhh, on his fingers, on his thigh. When it’s on his fingers, he’s usually the one licking it off, or forcing you to when he’s being a bit unfair :((

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Beau is taking your panties <33 I’m so sorry. But the pair of underwear that’s missing?? It’s in his pocket :/ It’s in his locked drawer at work :/ It’s in his car :/ It’s his now :/ He loves stealing them so much because it’s you. Bonus if they’re dirtyyyy because he’s a dirty man!!

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Beau is kindaaa old, so he is def experienced!! Young adult years… he was going around bars, partying, def sleeping with girls, and learning everything he can <33 that’s why he’s so good at it!! He knows it makes you insecure sometimes; he’s seen a lot, been with a lot, but he’s with you now, and probably will be forever!! And plus, he’s like… the biggest eater on earth. ever.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Beau wants you on top; he wants you riding him <33 bonus if you’re wearing his cowboy hat when you’re feeling silly and a bit stupid, because it pisses him off a tad ;) He loves watching you. So much. He also loves guiding you?? His big hands on your hips, and your thighs, helping you grind and bounce. He likes watching you get frustrated when you’re getting tired and just want him to take over :(( But he encourages you and praises you, and keeps you going. All for him!!

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Beau is a bit of both. Most of the time he’s pretty serious; wants to keep you satisfied, wants you to cum for him, but then again… if he’s a few beers in, he’s laughing into your neck, teasing you, taunting you. Sometimes the sex is all giggles and moans, and sometimes he’s rough and groaning, andddd just going at it!!

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Beau has a bush, but he keeps it maintained!! He’ll trim it from time to time, but most of the time… yeah, it’s a bush <33 and he lovesss when you’re sucking him off, and ur nose kinda nuzzles into it. Oh my gosssh <333 he’ll come out of the shower, and his towel is around his waist, wayyy too low, and yes. Yes, there it is. Just a peek of his bush. omg.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Beau would def be romantic during it!! He’d hold your hand, kiss your forehead, whisper to you, reassure you. Yes, he’s fucking your brains out, but sooo much love is going into it <33 he might degrade you, but there’s praise right after it because he kinda likes when you’re a bit confused, and dumbed out, and just a mess for him :( It’s so sweet to him. The sweetest thing ever.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Beau tends to not jerk off (he likes saving himself for u ^^)… but I’d say during his longer shifts, the ones that go on aaaalll night, and all he wants to see is his girl.. he’ll do it :( Maybe on the way home, pulled off to the side of the road, staring at pictures you sent him throughout the day. He’d want you sooo bad, but he knows you’re at home sleeping, and he doesn’t wanna wake you up.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Beau has a daddy kink <333 he lovessss when you’re calling him ‘daddy’, but he also has such a dilemma over it too!! He knows you shouldn’t be doing it, especially when you’re in public… but you slip up. He’d be all shy and embarrassed, and would scold you quietly in the car, just to punish you when you get back. This leads me toooo… spanking!! Beau wants you over his knee; he wants to spank you, and he’d do it hardddd :( Too hard, and he’d love the faces you make and the way you whine and squirm. But don't forget… he’s right there afterwards, kissing you and holding you, praising you.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Beau loves the bed. He loves his own place, familiar sheets and scents. But he finds it particularly sexy when you’re on a road trip, and you’re forced to either fuck in the car… or in a dingy hotel <33 the bed springs squeaking because your bed at home is actually nice, or the car rocking slightly because he’s such a bigggg man, and he can’t help but shift it with each thrust.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Beau loves SKIRTS <33 when you are dressed in a skirt, he’s thinking one thing: easy access. Bea wants to have his hand up your skirt; he wants to be touching you, lifting it up. He thinks you’re doing it on purpose!! Also.. when you’re twirling your hair. Just your finger caught in it, twisting it while you’re talking to him, he loves it soooo much.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Beau would do anything for you, but I think he’d be against anything when you’re under the influence :( When you’re all drunk and whiny, I think his first instinct would be to take care of you; he’s not thinking of you being more pliable or vulnerable; he’s thinking of taking you home and caring for you. I also think Beau wouldn’t be into anything that involves more than one person; he wants you all to himself, he doesn’t want to share you, doesn’t want any man seeing his girl <3

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Beau has absolutely mastered oral sex, and prefers giving it! This isn’t to say he doesn’t like you sucking his dick, not at all, but I think he’d be all for giving everythinggg to you <33 he lets you suck him off, yes, but I also think he’s the type to hold back groans and moans :( He never wants you to hear them, so when he’s the one receiving, or fucking you, he can’t really hold them back. But when it’s just you, and he’s doing everything, he’s in heaven :’) 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

I think Beau is more slow and sensual <3 Deep, long thrusts; he wants to take his time, and he wants you to feel everyyyy damn inch oh my goshhhh. He knows that you like being full, and when he goes rough and fast, that feeling just isn’t the same!! When he’s nestled, all buried in you, kissing you, panting and breathing heavier, just taking his time :( That’s his favourite on earth + maybe a lil cock warming too.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Beau is definitely a proper sex type of guy, but if he’s reeeally desperate, a little something in his backseat isn’t bad :’) Maybe in the bathroom at a get-together??? He loves being able to have all of you, and sometimes, when it’s a quick, discreet thing, that part feels a bit lost on him. But if you give him those wide, pretty eyes… he doesn’t mind taking your hand and dragging you away <3

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Beau isn’t that much of a risk taker, and it’s because he just values it sooooo much!! The only risks he’ll probably take are when you’re sleeping over at your parents’ house, and he still wants to fuck you, so he has his hand over your mouth, knowing your parents are riiight in the other room!! Any car sex you may have would be in a desolate area; maybe a field, side of the road, an empty parking lot. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Beau can last long… and he can finish fast too :’) a long day at work?? He might cum fast, but that doesn’t mean it’s over, not at all—he’ll just keep going!! Did he already cum? He’ll do it again inside of you, even after you’ve already finished too. He honestly gets drunk on the feeling, and can keep going, and going and goingggg <3

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Beau owns a vibrator.. for you!! He has no issue with helping you at all; he literally just sees it as another way to make you feel good, and he adores it. So much. It’s always so fucking hot when you’re squirming and whining, and he has one pressed against you, probably through your underwear to make it worse :(( He’d also def use a remote-controlled one too… just in your underwearrrr, maybe when you’re wandering around the house, and he wants to see you suddenly drop to your knees, or if he’s reeeally feeling it, he’ll take a risk (for once) and take you to dinner with it in <3

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Beau is the most unfair man EVER </3 He just teases and teases. Hand on your thigh, lightly tugging your hair, making such sly comments. All he does is tease and tease, and doesn’t do a thing about it :(( Not until you’re home alone with him. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Beau is a grunter and groaner; deep, low sounds that he tries sooo hard to keep back :( He doesn’t like how good you make him feel (yes, he does), and this poor man just can’t help it. He’ll start grunting and groaning, almost out of frustration, and then he’ll just… <333 it would be so fucking hot.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Beau has such a thing for picking out your outfits, and you don’t know why </3 He loves when you do fashion shows for him, and he loves it even more when he’s the one who gets to pick out what you’re wearing. He even likes picking out your bra and underwear too, letting it be a little secret between the two of you :’) The both of you at work, but you know that he knows you have on those cotton underwear he loves, and that bra that’s a light pink. Beau knows!!!

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Beau is big… like, he is packing oh my god </3 a solid 8 inches, and the girth… he just fills you up so much, and the stretch.. the stretch is such an overwhelming feeling, just the pressure :( And he knows he’s big; he almost feels bad when you’re whining and shaking your head because he’s just aaaaa </3 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Beau has a pretty normal/average sex drive! He’s older... he’s already done quite a bit, but you definitely work him up a bit more than he needs :( But he loves it so much :( He’s usually the one initiating it because, even if you are constantlyyyy filled with energy n wanting him, you’re just too shy to say anything. So he will <3

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)