the-knightmare asked:

Prompt: One speaking in another language to seduce the other.

Bruce always had a fondness for Tony speaking French to him; he thought it was a little silly because he only spoke a little of it and often didn’t know what Tony was saying or took a long time to piece it together, but Tony loved it and always humored him.

This evening, they were sitting on the couch sharing a bottle of wine after a nice, home-cooked dinner, and Tony, who had been drinking most of the wine, leaned over with a seductive smile to whisper into Bruce’s ear, “Sont ceux l’espace pantalons, parce que ton cul est hors de ce monde.”

Bruce smiled quickly, just listening to Tony’s accent and feeling himself start to blush a little, but then his brain connected the dots to the words, and…. “Did you just… are you… Tony Stark, you’re the biggest dork I’ve ever met,” he said, shoving Tony away from him as they both broke up laughing.

((Translation: “Are those space pants, because your ass is out of this world.))

anonymous asked:

This is a bit of a vague prompt, but if you feel like it, could you do anything with genderbend Bruce/Tony? I really love your writing style and creativity and I'm curious what you'll come up with :)

[(thank you!) I gave it a shot? Two drabbles, one featuring Bruce/Toni, and one featuring Bryce/Tony. I have no idea, but I hope you like them!]





  • Bruce/Toni - “Breathe”

The material is soft against the pads of his fingers – unlike cotton, more than the caress of silk – like touching the solid manifestation of water that isn’t ice, a sensation not meant to be experienced by human hands.

Bruce meets Toni’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror, resting his chin tentatively on her shoulder in the way that always makes her melt, watches the flickers of wonderment and relief and longing that dance across her face, stuck on repeat.

“Can you breathe?” He asks quietly, dragging his finger along its edge. He can feel the lift of her body, expanding just a little wider than they usually do beneath his touch, and he looks back down to see the material moves seamlessly with her, not digging into her skin, not pushing in.

“Fuck,” she breathes out on the exhale, and doesn’t flinch as she sucks in another breath. “Fuck.”

“Easy,” he warns, carefully moving his hands down to frame along her ribs, though he’s not exactly sure if he’s trying to steady her or just experience the wondrous ability she’s regained. “How’s the pain?”

The light of the arc reactor is enhanced by the material rather than muted, beaming its clean, electric blue through the deep purple; it still projects its comforting gleam in Toni’s eyes. “Well, it’s still there, because, you know, the reactor and its lovely casing are still in my chest and the shrapnel is ever-present-“ his fingers twitch against her skin at the thought “-but it’s … lighter? Less, uh, heavy, I think?”

Bruce ducks his face into her neck to hide the smile that forms on his lips. “You think?” He teases gently, and relishes as she draws another breath. Still shallow, by normal standards, but it must feel like Heaven to her.

“Five years,” she responds. There’s a considering frown on her face as she needlessly adjusts the strap on her right shoulder. “I didn’t know it wasn’t just the bras until now. I just … I thought all the extra weight was from the chest piece.”

He kisses her shoulder, and she grabs at one of his hands, crushing it tightly as he lifts his head, and their eyes meet again.

“Thank you.” It’s unusually serious for Antonia Stark. It’s unusually serious for Toni.

He swallows. “You’re the one who invented it,” he points out in quiet objection, and her eyes roll dramatically.

“Shut up and take the gratitude, Banner. I wouldn’t have even had the idea for the material if I hadn’t been making your stretchy pants, let alone thought of the possibility of using it to make the world’s best sports bra.” (She says it so casually, like it’s throwaway, unremarkable – like it hasn’t relieved a bite of her chronic pain. Sports bra. Five years).

He fights back a growl, instead drawing her in closer. He can’t tell her she’s welcome – the gratitude he feels at her relief is too overwhelming. “I love you,” he murmurs as he feels another breath. “I love you, I love you.”

“… I love you, too,” she gives back softly. And then her elbow digs into his stomach. “Sap.”




  • Bryce/Tony - “Armor”

Tony had once told her, on a night near the beginning of their acquaintance that had involved too many drinks and not enough food, that he actually didn’t like the color red.

(“I had to break up the gold somehow, though. And not all of us can make green look good.”)

He’d laughed about it, then.

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” Bryce chanted, her hands shaking and tinged with growing green as they moved back and forth between his rapidly paling face and the crumpled dips of his beaten armor, hovering, but not touching. She couldn’t.

He was covered in red now, on his back on the floor of this Godforsaken room Ross had trapped her in.

“I’m … I’m the knight,” he slurred at her in response. His eyes were dazed, sharp enough to lock onto her face, but spinning with an obvious confusion that made her want to vomit. “I’m the knight. Sh-shining armor. I’m … s’posed to rescue you.”

The laughter that escaped her throat was edged with dangerous hysteria. “Sorry to tell you this, Stark, but your armor isn’t that shiny right now.” Except where the blood was. God, there was so much of it. “You’re more damsel in distress at the moment.”

“…Oh.” He looked confused. “…Yer the knight?”

Inside of her body, the Hulk was silent, deadened by the drugs that had been pumped into her system. Her own blood trailed in tiny rivers down her hands from the tears of ripped-out IV needles – she couldn’t touch him. Hers was so insignificant to his, his wounds so much more grievous – he needed help, he needed to be moved, but if she touched him-

“No,” she choked out. “I … Tony, I can’t … I can’t-.”

(Later, Bryce would wake up on the floor of the quinjet, her back braced against its side, her body resonating with transformation ache. Later, her body would itch with drying blood that wasn’t hers, that flecked and crumbled with each minute movement of her muscles. Later, Bryce would watch security feed of herself in that room, hovering over Tony’s broken and bleeding body while she slammed her fist into the ground over and over and over again until her bones audibly cracked, and her body ripped apart to let loose the Hulk. Later, she would watch her monster grab and tear and crush anyone near, blood-stained armor cradled protectively in one arm. Later, Steve Rogers would stand in front of a committee filled with government officials from three different powerful countries and defend the actions of the Hulk with such vehemence that they would all back down for fear of gaining the Avengers as enemies instead of allies. Later, while Steve would be arguing for her freedom, Bryce would be rolling her eyes and giving in to Tony’s silently begging eyes, carefully arranging them both so that she could slot herself between his uninjured side and the railing of the hospital bed. Later, and for months later than that, she would tease Tony about being a damsel in distress who lived in the top of a Tower, and feel relief that he would be able to pout back at her).

But now, inside of the armor, Tony’s body sagged lifelessly in the room that existed solely for the purpose of breaking her apart.

And Bryce screamed.

youtube

((Thanks to Kastiakbc for showing me this episode of Two Best Friends Play and giving me the idea to animate it !! :D ))

squad assemble or something

Oh look, more OTP prompts

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hello random person that is staring at me, yes i am wearing a pair of butterfly wings and a tutu over my jeans but you can suck my ass because im doing it for this really sweet kid i’m babysitting to show him that anyone can wear whatever they want regardless of gender and wait you want a pair of wings too? AU

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