I recently came across a discussion on Tony Stark as a queer-coded character in the comics (which I’m not going to link to because many of the threads were already deleted, ergo I’m assuming that the participants didn’t want the conversation to be spread), and I found it very interesting. For years I have read Tony Stark as subtextually bisexual in the comics, which hasn’t really translated to the films – at least not to the extent that the character of Captain America has been coded as bisexual in them. There has always been a borderline homoerotic relationship between Tony and his armor especially. But adjacent to this conversation, there was also an interesting thread in which Tony Stark asthe most female-coded superhero was discussed that I found fascinating.
Someone commented on the concept stating that while it may be true for the comics, movie-verse Tony Stark is certainly not female-coded.
But isn’t he, though?
We’ve discussed before how hypermasculinity sometimes seems to go so over-the-top that it does a full 360, coming out the other side seeming rather feminized, the hypermasculine male presented as a sexual object with assets on display (slim waist, thick thighs, full chest) for the consumption of the male gaze. But that’s not the case with Tony Stark; it isn’t his hypermasculinity that makes him seem female-coded, it’s the question of agency.
Tony does seem to possess many traits that we consider culturally feminine, female cliches, such as talking a lot and talking fast, using a rich vocabulary, a short and petite stature as compared to other superheroes, the narrative passing jugement on his promiscuity, the narrative passing judgement on his desire for junk-food, his passive demeanor, his self-consciousness about his body and having to wear underarmor in public to manage his chest, his avoidance of interpersonal conflict, looking for daddy’s love and approval, the way in which he conceals much of his intelligence because he knows that if people saw him for how he really is, they would be off-put by it ie. giving the appearance of being smart-but-not-too-smart, the eroticizing of his appearance in the narrative, the focus on what he’s wearing, his obsessive-compulsive behavior, meticulous grooming habits, delicate features, dressing to impress professionally, carrying conversations, his weakness being his heart, the fact that he has to dress into a suit that conceals his identity, his true self, to interact with the world, a hard outer shell that conceals his soft inside. There are aspects to Tony Stark in the films that are female-coded.
I think that some people might find these aspects difficult to see because there are three distinct personas to the character: there’s the Tony Stark that he projects to the outside world to hide who he really is that is his true armor, there’s Iron Man that is a prosthetic, an armor that shields him and allows him the protection of being who he really is, and then there’s Tony Stark, the person he is in his heart of hearts that we see only when’s alone with the artificial intelligences he created for himself, as his friends, the only friends that really, truly get to see him, because he knows that they won’t judge him (outside of him being alone, we see glimpses of the ‘real’ Tony Stark in Afganistan, in his interactions with Natasha and in two scenes with Steve: while they’re cutting wood and Tony asking Steve whether he knew).
These are the three sides to Tony Stark, and I see a lot of fans confuse his Tony Stark armor, his protective persona, with who he is because that is, by design, the loudest, most visible side to him.
There are many sides to him that are female-coded, but it’s the limited agency that he is given in the narrative that is the most telling. Most of his stories seem to revolve around the stripping of his agency and his struggle to regain it. This character – a genius, billionaire, playboy, philantropist – who ought to be the ultimate male power fantasy has all of his stories constructed around his lack of agency and his need of a prosthetic to claim agency for himself. It’s easy to assume that an able-bodied, rich, good-looking, well-educated, white CEO of the American upper crust has all the power and control in the world, but the narrative begins disabusing the viewer of this notion right off the bat. The narrative deconstructs his agency.
What I appreciated about the Iron Man films was how they subverted the role of the damsel in distress in Pepper Potts. Especially the end of the first film in which Pepper marched through broken glass in her stiletto shoes to save Tony Stark was something that made me stop and think for days afterwards. The third film basically recreated this subversion of the trope louder for those in the back that hadn’t caught it the first time. It was Pepper Potts that was the knight in shining armor, not the title character.
And it is Tony that we see as the damsel in distress, particularly again in the first and the third films. The first film contains the iconic scene of Obadiah Stane literally removing Tony’s agency in a scene that is filmed like a sexual violation, a none-too-subtle air of erotic violence in the air as he uses his date rape technology to incapacitate Tony. This is a turning point in the film. The third film contains a scene in which Tony Stark is zip-tied to a bed frame with the villain taunting him. It is implied that Tony is similarly submissive in bed. The main villain in the scene acts like a spurned lover, a definite air of seduction to his conduct toward the tied-up hero.
That is two cases of villains making eroticized advances toward a physically incapacitated Tony Stark. And it isn’t the violence or the incapacitation that makes the scenes female-coded, it is the eroticization of it. It is female characters that are subject to eroticized violence, generally speaking. The second film does not follow the pattern, but it could be interepreted as an obsessive, spurned man making unwanted advances toward our hero.
I wrote about the interaction between Natasha and Tony previously, on how she allows us to see a side of him that we usually don’t get to see. Some people have described Tony’s hiring of her as sexist, undoubtedly influenced by Pepper’s interpretation of his behaviour as he tried to figure her out (“And she is potentially a very expensive sexual harassment lawsuit if you keep ogling her like that.”), but his interest in her was never that kind of interest. His eyes don’t track her sexual assets. Tony saw something of himself in her, especially in the way she was playing a role, but even more than that, I think Tony saw in Natasha Romanoff something that he wanted desperately to be. In control.
Natasha Romanoff gives the air of being in control even when she gives up control, and in this she is the opposite of Tony Stark.
With this in mind, and I don’t remember whether I wrote about this before, I was quite disturbed by the way the climax of Civil War was shot not unlike a pornographic sex scene, Tony Stark being double-teamed by the super soldiers. The ending of the scene especially, with Steve straddling Tony, pounding on him, grunting, finishing it off with breathing heavily as he falls off Tony having penetrated his arc reactor with his shield, having incapacitated Tony’s prosthetic. Tony spits out blood as the super soldiers walk away from him. It’s rather symbolic, the implications of the scene very uncomfortable.
While Bucky Barnes is another character whose storyline heavily features the stripping down of agency, the female-coding of the strong, stoic silent-type is largely absent. Bucky Barnes and Tony Stark share similarities, and in this he offers a contrast to Tony.
So, yes. I do see Tony Stark of the movie-verse as a female-coded superhero because his story revolves around desperately grasping for agency. Among these hypermasculine heroes, the genius-billionaire-playboy-philantropist is at a disadvantage, so Tony Stark invented, constructed, and put on a suit that hides his true identity in order to have a measure of agency in a hypermasculine world, that allows him to assert himself. And in Civil War he was willing to sign off on his self-created agency because the establishment had managed to convince him that as a person with near unlimited resources, he was a danger to the world that he had risked his life and the lives of his loved ones to protect.
I think one of the most telling aspects of his character vis-à-vis Civil War is that, convinced that it is too dangerous for him to attempt to influence the outside world and other people in it, Tony Stark instead turned within and attempted to modify his own internal world, to (literally) influence his own internal state instead – to accept what he can’t change. This is a classic strategy of the disenfranchised.
Tony Stark is the most female-coded of the male superheroes.
It’s my first time writing preferences, sorry if this sucks.
Gifs are not mine
Steve Rogers: Well, Steve is such a gentleman and rarely loses his temper, but whenever a guy flirts, or basically talks to you he can’t help being furiously jealous. He never leaves your side and holds your waist with his strong arms, staring at his poor victim until he decides to leave.
Bruce Banner: Bruce is really a quiet person, he always tries to contol his emotions since he absolutely doesn’t want to turn green, so even if he is jealous, he simply hides it at that very moment and waits for you two to be alone so that he can talk to you.
Thor: He’s Thor, he is worthy and everyone else just isn’t, so whenever a guy tries to flirt with you, he doesn’t lose his temper introducing himself as your boyfriend, and gladly watches the guy’s self-esteem going to pieces.
Clint Barton: He’s a bastard, and this is one of the reasons why you love him, so when a guy goes too far with you he shoots an arrow right above his head, pretending it was a mistake and says things like “You should go away, next time you might not be this lucky."
Tony Stark: Tony is a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, pretty jealous man you would add. When he gets jealous there’s no way to stop his sarcasm, he practically destroys with words the guy in question and does it keeping his usual smirk on his face.
James "Bucky” Barnes: Bucky is quite insecure, he thinks you deserve the best in life and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to give it to you. For this reason, whenever a guy flirts with you, he becomes quiet and withdrawn, so you immediately notice something’s wrong with him and forget about the other boy, going straight to him to make sure he knows how much you love him.
Pietro Maximoff: Pietro is quite possessive when it comes to you, he doesn’t want anyone to look or talk to you in a non-proper way, so whenever another guy flirts with you, he runs straight to you and threatens him using some strange Russian words that you yourself don’t understand, but they do sound pretty intimidating.
Wanda Maximoff: Wanda always knows if someone is having malicious thoughts about you, so she wastes no time and walks up to you, wrapping her arms around you in order to make it clear that you’re taken.
Natasha Romanoff: Natasha is, well, Natasha. She can’t help telling things the way they are, so whenever someone flirts with you, she just tells him/her not to bother you and when you two are left alone she hungrily kisses you, whispering things like “Remember that you’re mine”
Loki: Loki becomes dangerous whenever a guy flirts with you, he uses his magic tricks to make the boy drop in his own feet or to set his clothes on fire; obviously he never means to kill, he only means to maim, or seriously injure*.
*This is sort of a quote from Harry Potter, I do love Dobby!
Summary: After returning to New York, Tony is greeted with surprising news that has potential to change his life.
A/N: another one from draft-purgatory. lol i’ve never written for tony stark, and i i struggle to capture his swaggering tone. however, but i thought it would be fun to write for a slightly softer tony stark.
His elbows resting on the metal railing surrounding the large helicopter landing pad, Tony Stark skims his eyes over the beautiful aerial view of Manhattan. A relaxed smile perks onto his lips as the familiar clamor of the concrete jungle sinks in. “It’s good to be back,” he hums to himself, taking in the majestic view carved around the Avengers Tower.
After rapping his knuckles against the metal railing, Tony saunters down the glass walkway leading into the tower, the eery silence reminding him that everyone is on a mission. He’s about to greet F.R.I.D.A.Y. when a smile enters his view, one that he isn’t expecting.
She sits on the counter of the bar, her legs elegantly crossed despite the restrictive nature of her pencil skirt. The sunlight streams into the room through the glass windows, creating a natural glow about her. A coy smile perks onto her lips as Tony’s drinks her in, his lower lip getting caught between his teeth as his eyes dance up her legs and body. She’s the most alluring girl he’d ever seen -he’d thought so two years ago when they first met, and he still thinks so now- and it’s one of the many reasons why he’s infatuated with her.
“I thought I told you not to wait for me,” He grins, glad that she ignored his request.
“I couldn’t wait until dinner, and I wanted to be here when you arrived. Is that such a crime?” (Y/N) hops off the counter and saunters towards him. She cups his cheek in a way that makes Tony feel like he’s the only person in the world.
“Well, counselor, I recommend -” His words are cut off as (Y/N) yanks the lapels of his jacket to bring his face towards her for a kiss. Tony laughs against her lips, but the laugh quickly gets drowned out by a rough growl as she lightly bites his lower lip. A smile creeps in around the edges of her kiss as she slides her hands down his muscular back. A nip of teeth, a glide of tongue, and she easily has him under her spell.
It’s only a matter of time when the need for oxygen brings the kiss to an end. Tony gently knocks his forehead against (Y/N)’s. “Remind me to always bring up a counterargument, because baby, I could get used to that,” he drawls.
(Y/N) laughs, a devilish glint lighting up her eyes. “Welcome back to New York, Mr. Stark. It’s been a while.” Her hand dangerously inch south as she brings his ear to her lips. “That was a little preview of what’s going to happen tonight.”
He feigns exasperation as (Y/N) playfully smacks his ass but twirls out of his arms before he can do anything. A low noise escapes his throat as she shoots him a sexy smile over her shoulder while kicking off her “ball-busting stilettos”, as she calls them.
Tony leans against the wall and watches (Y/N)’s shadow dance in the glow of the sun. Two years into the relationship, and he still gets butterflies. His fun, beautiful girlfriend, the skyline of the most magical city in America, wonderful weather - his life is perfect and Tony wishes it would stay this way for a long time.
“As much as I love pencil skirts, I need to change,” (Y/N) announces. “I have workout pants in my bag, but could I borrow a shirt or sweater?”
“Baby, at this point, you’ve stolen over half of my comfortable clothes. Why do you even bother asking?”
(Y/N) smirks and plants a kiss on his cheek before sashaying towards the door of Tony’s private apartment. Before she opens the door, she turns to him. “T, I have something to tell you.“
"Mmhmm,” Tony hums, pulling out his phone from his pocket.
“I probably should have told you, but I was kind of scared of how you would react. I thought it would be wise to tell you when you were back in New York.” She hesitates for a bit, her fingertips drumming against the doorframe. “Promise not to freak?” she asks, a slightly icy look glazing her eyes.
A small alarm rings in his head, but Tony maintains a calm expression. “I promise. Did you max out my credit card?” he jokes.
(Y/N) rolls her eyes but relaxes a bit, which pleases Tony. “No, and I never will.”
“My wallet thanks you, baby. But what’s up?”
“Tony.” She swallows. “How do you feel about becoming a dad?”
Although, to be totally fair I’m pretty sure anyone with half a brain cell knew. Jan told me no one ever said anything because they were all trying to respect my privacy. Whatever privacy a billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist has anyway.
There is a gala, and ridiculous playboy billionaire Brucie Wayne grabs little Dickie Grayson by the hands and swings him around in a circle, Dickie laughing all the way. Bruce grins from ear to ear and the media whispers, wonders if this will be the end of Brucie’s shenanigans.
There’s a gala, and irresponsible playboy billionaire Brucie Wayne grabs young Jason Todd by the hands, and Jason stands on his toes and they dance around in a circle, bumping into the socialites and not really caring. Jason is giggling, that high pitched giggle that comes when your voice hasn’t quite changed yet, and Bruce chuckles. The media whispers, wonders if he’ll do better with Jason then he did with Dick.
There’s a gala, and tired playboy billionaire Brucie Wayne sighs as 14-year-old Tim Drake throws mini marshmallows at him. Tim hides behind his father and Bruce flirts with empty-headed girls in sparkly dresses, and nobody sees the secret smile on Bruce’s face whenever he makes eye contact with Tim from across the hall. The media whispers, wonders if Brucie will ever adopt again, he looks like he’s doing better. They don’t see Tim.
There’s a gala, and a softly-smiling playboy billionaire Brucie Wayne grabs Cassie Cain by the hands, and he dances with her around the room. She smiles and he smiles back, and the media whispers, says that Cassandra Cain is so beautiful, and that Bruce is a lucky guy to have her for a daughter.
There’s a gala, and an oblivious playboy billionaire Brucie Wayne stands and flirts with too many girls. Dick Grayson stands to the side, and he grabs Damian Wayne by the hands, spinning him around in a huge circle. Damian suppresses a smile and Dick laughs loudly. Cass Cain and Tim Drake chuck mini marshmallows at them and they don’t look at the shadow posing as Bruce Wayne, but the media does.
There’s a gala, and playboy billionare Brucie Wayne is nowhere to be seen. The media whispers, wonders, thinks of overly scandalous things he could be up to. Bruce Wayne sits in his sitting room, and Dick Grayson is curled against his side, and Damian Wayne is curled against Dick’s, and Cass Cain’s head is in Bruce’s lap, and her feet are on Tim’s, and Duke Thomas sits on the floor in front of them, Dick’s hand loosely draped on his shoulder. A window creaks and Bruce looks up. Jason Todd stands there, looking petrified, and Bruce gestures him over. He does, careful not to wake his siblings.
In which you have the first sentence your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your shoulder, Jimin’s being “Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh”.
Even though Jungkook doesn’t have as bad luck as Jimin does, he isn’t completely satisfied with his “Fuck you” tattoo either.
Jimin had been only three when his mother had told him about soulmates for the first time. He could remember it like it happened just yesterday. That was how clear the memory was.
“Jimin,” she’d said, sitting him down on his bed with an intense look in her eyes. “In your life, you will meet one person who is unlike anyone else. You’ll feel a pull towards them - the first time you lock eyes, you will feel like you’re suddenly whole again, after feeling like you’ve been missing something, no, someone your whole life.
You’ll know them when you meet, but if you ever doubt yourself, a tattoo will appear on your shoulder when you turn five. The first words they’ll ever say to you will be carved into your skin until the day your soulmate says them to you, the very day you’ll first talk to each other.”
Here, she smiled. Like she was remembering something amazing, something special. “And when you meet them, Jimin, don’t you ever let them go. If you lose them, you will feel broken again, and you will lose your will to live and die. Don’t you ever let them go.”
Jimin had thought that the first words his soulmate would say to him would be beautiful and poetic, that the words he would get would be something he could treasure.
Boy, was he wrong.
On his fifth birthday, his whole family gathered around the little boy. On the precise time he’d been born, his shoulder had started to bloom with a numbing pain, just like he’d been told multiple times before.
It took ten minutes - twenty, tops - until the feeling had finally started to fade. That was when he got the courage to glance at the tattoo resting on his collarbone.
“Mom, what’s a boner?” He had asked, as innocent as a lamb, after reading the sentence. She’d gasped harshly, as had most of his relatives, then took a look at his shoulder.
Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh.
At the time, he had no idea what a ‘morning boner’ was, but as the seasons changed and the years passed, he found out exactly what it meant.
And Jimin started to wish that soulmates didn’t exist, so badly that he almost believed it.
Because no matter how hard he tried to lie to himself, the truth was that he had the tattoo on his shoulder, and it would never change. And honestly, Jimin couldn’t help hating his soulmate just a bit for it.
Jimin pulled the oversized black and white striped shirt over his head and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The shirt left quite a bit of shoulder exposed, and he sighed as he traced a finger over the words. The black letters looked harsh on Jimin’s tan skin, and it made him cringe.
He’d gotten used to the tattoo over the years, but his friends hadn’t. Because of his (stupid) soulmate, he’d become the butt of fifty too many jokes, and, whenever his friends laughed, he wanted to break the nose of whoever would be brash enough to say this.
Jimin had sworn, when he’d been seventeen and incredibly annoyed after a particularly harsh (but slightly funny) joke, that the first thing he’d say to his soulmate when he met them, no matter who they were, would be a big “fuck you”.
That was what he thought about as he squeezed a generous amount of thick foundation on his fingers and started to spread it on his tattoo. His friends were bad enough; he didn’t need any strangers seeing it at today’s party, which was being hosted but the richest and most arrogant brat on the whole campus. Probably the whole freaking world.
Jimin didn’t know the guy - hell, he hadn’t even talked to him - but he already didn’t like him. He was handsome and rich, and he definitely knew it. Jimin only had agreed to go to the stupid thing because his best friend, Hoseok, had convinced him to. In fact, Hoseok wanted Jimin to go with him so he could hook him up with Yoongi, Jimin’s other best friend. Not an exciting prospect, honestly.
“Jimin, come on! We’re going to be late!” Hoseok yelled through the bathroom door, banging on the wood with heavy fists. It was ten o’clock in the evening, and Hoseok was eager to meet with Yoongi, who would (hopefully) be his date for the night.
“Shut up, I’m coming,” Jimin mumbled, putting the foundation away when his tattoo was covered up the way it was supposed to be. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, glaring. Hoseok knew he hated being rushed, and his roommate gave him an innocent smile.
Hoseok was dressed in black skinny jeans and a plain white top, a blazer and sneakers thrown on for good measure. Very billionaire-playboy-chilling-with-a-glass-of-scotch.
“Woah, you look good”, he complimented him, and Jimin’s glare turned into a smile. He’d parted his hair to reveal his forehead, and even though he wasn’t the most confident person, he felt good about the way he looked for once.
“Now, can we go?” Hoseok pleaded, with big doe eyes for effect, and Jimin sighed.
“Fine, let’s get this over with,” he mumbled, grabbing a pair of black boots. Hoseok watched him pull them on, and Jimin muttered, “Calm down,” just when he was pulled out the door.
“Oh my God, I’m so nervous, I think I’m going to puke. I think I look green, do I look green?”
Jimin rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. Hoseok had been rambling for the past half hour, while they walked to the mansion where the party was supposed to be.
“You’ll be just fine, don’t worry. He might seem a bit cold, but I swear he’s all rainbows and unicorns inside,” Jimin said, doing his best to pry his best friend’s claws off his shirt (it was a gift, after all). He snickered when Hoseok kept muttering, ‘oh my God,’ as they arrived. The house was a mansion, almost as grand as Gatsby’s. What else would you expect from a rich brat?
As they made their way to the front door, Jimin started to look around. Yoongi had promised to be here; he owed Jimin a favor, which was why he had agreed to be Hoseok’s date for tonight. Otherwise he probably would’ve just stayed home, writing music in the almost-dark as usual (Yoongi’s dream was to be a famous rapper).
When Jimin finally spotted him, lounging near a wall with a stereotypical red solo cup in his hand, he grabbed Hoseok’s hand and started making his way towards the dark-haired man. Hopefully, he wouldn’t move before they got there.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, that’s Yoongi right there, oh my God, he looks so good”, Hoseok repeated the words like they were the only thing keeping him alive. It was a good thing the music was so loud, otherwise Yoongi would’ve heard. Hoseok was right, Jimin admitted to himself. Yoongi was dressed in all black, with a snapback pulled over his eyes, like in all of his rap videos.
Jimin pushed Hoseok towards Yoongi, who had noticed them and was now standing up straight. Jimin winked and gave Hoseok a thumbs up before he melted into the crowd.
He didn’t need to be a third wheel for the whole night. No, he’d much rather spend his time with some good ol’ shots of strong, liver-killing alcohol. Jimin wasn’t someone who drank often, but his choices were a) be sober and painfully alone or b) be alone and roaring drunk.
Not a hard choice, really.
He found his way to the alcohol and poured himself six shots with a smile on his face. Now that’s what we are talking about. He downed his first shot after he found himself a place to sit (he wasn’t planning on being in any condition to stand for much longer). From his spot, he could see almost everyone in the giant room. His eyes skipped over people until he saw someone he really didn’t want to.
The host of the party. None other than Jeon Jungkook himself.
Jimin scoffed. He was leaning back on the couch, girls and guys surrounding him with a girl in a silvery-blue dress on his lap. Jeon threw his head back in laughter.
He downed the second shot the moment he saw that stupid rich brat sucking faces with another student (wasn’t he Namjoon?). He was nowhere near drunk enough to see that. Another shot disappeared, burning its way down his throat.
A weird feeling bubbled in his chest as he watched the two suck each other’s souls out. He couldn’t quite give the emotion a name, but it felt a lot like… jealousy? No fucking way. Jimin almost laughed out loud at his thoughts, downing a fourth shot. They didn’t even know each other.
The rest of the night was a blur, but he was fairly certain he had ended up drinking way more than six shots. It resulted in some awkward interactions with other students, who were nearly as drunk as him, and of course, he had blacked out on the mansion’s floor before the party had even finished. He could’ve sworn he had seen Yoongi and Hoseok get along well. Of course, if your definition of getting along was kissing rather shyly in a secret corner.
Jungkook saw the boy in the striped shirt the moment he’d walked in.
His silver hair that reflected the light perfectly, his plump lips that he bit when he tried not to laugh - every single thing about him seemed to draw him in. He’d come with someone who looked incredibly nervous, was that his boyfriend? His eyebrows furrowed, ever so slightly, and he shook his head. Why did he care? It was none of his business.
Still, his gaze followed him (wasn’t his name Park Jimin, or something?) intently as he navigated his way through the people in the party, until they reached a guy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere than here. The silver-haired male pushed his friend - something Jungkook had just realized - towards the guy who had been leaning on the wall. He was short, like Jimin.
Jungkook watched Jimin slip into the crowd, the two boys left looking awkwardly at each other. He rolled his eyes. The two clearly liked each other; what was so hard about talking to each other and actually sharing a conversation instead of awkward, yearning glances?
Jungkook tried to find Jimin, but it was like he’d disappeared into thin air. Had he left? A weird feeling of desperation flushed through the Jungkook as he moved to sit on the couch, people crowding to sit around him. He spotted Jimin a few minutes after, sitting alone with a tray of shots in front of him. Jungkook watched him drink shot after shot, and grinned at the cute way he scrunched up his nose after every single one.
Time to move on.
Jungkook turned towards the group he was sitting with, mostly to Namjoon, who sat right next to him. Namjoon was good-looking, he couldn’t deny that, but why didn’t his dimples make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Why didn’t his smile make his stomach flip like Jimin’s smile did? Would Namjoon’s lips make Jungkook feel the way he felt when he saw Jimin?
That was what went through his mind as he leaned towards the platinum-haired male and captured their lips in a kiss that Jungkook found anything but passionate. He could taste alcohol in Namjoon’s mouth, and it most definitely didn’t make butterflies fly around his insides.
He felt like throwing up when he finally pulled away. That was their first and last kiss, Jungkook decided right then and there.
He bolted up from his seat and headed towards the bar - because alcohol was exactly what he needed to drown his feelings.
All Jungkook could remember after that was downing way too much whiskey, keeping his hands to himself way too little, and getting way, way too drunk.
Jimin let out a groan as he forced his eyes open, then let out another when he screwed them shut again. The sun was high up already, and the room was annoyingly, incredibly bright.
There was an ogre in his head, kicking his brain and making everything tremble as revenge for last night. He almost wished he’d stayed at the dorms, cuddling into a fuzzy blanket while reading a good book. But the feeling of being carefree, being completely weightless, was worth the headache. And the nausea.
Jimin shifted to his side. There was something warm and soft, and he burrowed into that soft something, letting out a content sigh. That soft something smelled really nice, pine and cologne and something else, and he breathed in deeply. After a few minutes of being comfortable, he heard a rumbly voice rasp entirely too close to his ear.
“Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh,” the person groaned. The way his voice scraped around the edges made heat flood in his chest, like slipping into a warm blanket.
Jimin whined and nuzzled his face into the soft material, mumbling a small “fuck you,” as he did. A few seconds later, the soft something, or someone disappeared, and he hit his head on the cold, hard floor.
His headache split his head in half.
“Ow! What the fuck?” He yelped, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the tiniest hint of a pout on his lips. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he jumped, nearly six feet in the air.
Jeon Jungkook was sitting in front of him, all messy dark hair and eyes that sparkled in the sun. Jimin’s heart jumped into overdrive.
“What did you just say to me?” Jungkook questioned, leaning forward ever so slightly, which made Jimin lean backward ever so slightly.
“Um, ‘fuck you’?” Jimin suggested carefully, playing with his hands and looking at his lap.
“Oh my God,” Jungkook mumbled. Jimin’s eyes turned into saucers when he started to take his shirt off.
“W-What do you think you’re doing?” he stuttered, failing miserably at trying to sound annoyed. Moments later, a sigh slipped past his lips at the image of Jungkook shirtless, the sun hitting his skin like he was a god.
And no, it wasn’t because of Jungkook’s toned chest or abs, not even his arms or beautiful golden skin, but because of the tattoo on his shoulder. Exactly where Jimin’s was. Exactly where the soulmate tattoo was supposed to be.
“Are you kidding me?” Jimin snickered, his nervousness vanishing. He traced a finger over the words, curling black on golden skin, and nearly smiled when he felt Jungkook shiver. “Does that mean you actually just said ‘excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh’?”
Jungkook’s cheeks turned rosy, the prettiest shade of pink Jimin had ever seen, and he looked down on his lap when he nodded. For once, not the arrogant, spoilt brat. “Sorry about that,” he said, “it must’ve not been a very nice thing to have on your shoulder.”
But Jimin didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about any of that, anymore.
He had finally found his soulmate, his missing piece, and my God, was he beautiful.
“You stupid, rich brat,” Jimin smiled, carefully leaning towards Jungkook. His lips curved into a soft smile, headache long forgotten.
“You stupid shortie,” Jungkook muttered just before their lips met. It was like Sunday afternoons, warm and comforting, but there was a layer of passion, just underneath.
And Jimin felt a hole he never knew he had disappear.
(A/N) Ahhhhh the end! Such a fluffy oneshot i LOVE JIKOOK OK
ALSO special thanks to my babe @yoongsigh for the amazing writing prompt and to the lovely bb @quill-ink for editing this and making it 2356293859857 times better <333 ily guys <3 <3
I love how in the first Avengers, Steve basically asks Tony what would he be without ‘suit’. Tony’s response is, of course, “Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist.”
Essentially, under the armor, he had more armor. Things to hide behind long before he was ever trapped in a cave with a box of scraps. He hid behind his intellect, his money, his intimacy issues, and his need to be useful to hide that broken little boy from the big bad world.
Since I have no shame, yet another smutty story (it’s been a while). It’s not just smut though, there’s a plot, and there’s lots of fluff. @whovianayeshahope you’ll like it and don’t think it’s total shite, because as usual, I feel like it’s pretty bad…maybe I rushed things a bit too much ? I mean, actions gos by too fast and don’t make sense ? EEEEEH I’M ALWAYS SO STRESSED YOU GUYS WON’T LIKE MY WRITING WHENEVER I POST SOMETHING, sorry for being such an annoying angsty woman, I just hope you’ll like :
WARNING NSFW (smut, don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable, go read my other very safe for work stories instead ;)), LANGUAGE. It’s long, sorry.
If someone would have told you a few weeks ago that you’d save the goddamn Batman, you’d probably would have laughed in their faces. It seemed so ridiculous, that a rookie such as you, who literally joined the forces not even a month before, would ever save a man like the Dark Knight.
And yet, it happened. And it was wicked awesome.
He was fighting a bunch of thugs in a back alley, when you came by. You weren’t even gonna intervene, you knew the man, you already saw him roaming Gotham City before you became a cop, he could definitely handle himself…But then, you noticed one of the guy he was fighting take a few steps back, and draw a gun. It was pointed right at the bat’s head and he was going to pull the trigger in a matter of seconds !
You didn’t think, you acted. You jumped in the alley, surprising all of them, and with an expertly done high kick, you got the gun out of the man’s hand, knocking him down with a mean left hook. Damn, you turned into a total badass under the adrenaline !
Batman quickly got rid of the las few thugs, and turned to you. Suddenly, you didn’t feel that excited anymore, the man was impressive. So tall. Large. Muscular. Yeah ok, he was totally sexy.
He turned his weird glowy white gaze on you, and, with a voice too rough and low to be human, asked you :
-Are you alright ? This was very foolish to jump in like that, I didn’t need your help. You could have been very hurt.
-Yeah I’m alright, and like Hell you didn’t need my help, I totally saved your life dude, be more thankful ! Jeez louiiise.
-Wow. Ok. So you’re an ass.
-The ass can give you a ride to the nearest hospital, you’re bleeding.
He pointed to your arm, and…oh. Yeah. You got shot. Damn.
-I didn’t even feel it…
-Must be the rush of epinephrine in your blood. Come on, follow me.
-Wow wait, you’re gonna give me a ride…in the batmobile ?!
-Do you see any other car ? Climb in, and do not touch anything.
You tried to keep your cool. To act like it was no big deal…but the adrenaline in your veins doubled in volume as you sat in the car you so often dreamt of riding when you were a child. Fuck this was great !
He drove you to the nearest hospital, without saying a word, and almost threw you out of the car. Ass.
Your wound wasn’t deep, a bullet just grazed you and you only needed a few stitches, you were out two hours later. You went home by foot, because walking always cleared your mind, and damn it needed to be clear right now. Anyway, you weren’t living too far away.
You just saved the Batman ! YOU JUST SAVE THE BATMAN !!