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Tony knows pretty quickly after he and Peter start dating that he wants to marry Peter. Probably within the first three months of dating. Tony actually starts going ring shopping. He’s never been in love before and the fact that he’s fallen for Peter so hard and fast tells Tony that Peter is the one.

He tells Rhodey about how he plans to propose to Peter, and Rhodey doesn’t smile or look excited. In fact, he frowns. Tony hadn’t expected that. For the first time in his life he was happy and in love, and his best friend was frowning??

The first thing Rhodey says is “isn’t he too young?”

Too young? Well clearly he’s too young for Tony, but they were already past that. Both Tony and Peter had come to terms with their age difference and it was a non-issue. But then Rhodey added, “to get married. Isn’t he too young to be thinking of marriage?”

And Tony hadn’t actually thought of that. Peter had just turned eighteen. Was Tony thinking of marriage at eighteen? He’d have run for the hills if someone had gotten down on one knee and pulled out a ring for him. So what if it was the same for Peter? What if proposing would scare him off? Tony suddenly felt uncertain. He’d be absolutely crushed if Peter said no.

So Tony locks away the beautiful diamond ring he’d picked out for Peter. He decides it’s best to wait. Wait for a sign, at least, that Peter is actually open to getting married.

He doesn’t have to wait long because Tony walks in on him one day playing The Sims on his computer and before Peter can hide the screen, Tony sees that Peter’s conducting a wedding between Sim Tony and Sim Peter, and they’re in the middle of kissing after being made husbands.

Peter is super embarrassed but Tony just lets out a relieved laugh and grabs the boy, pulling him in for a warm embrace.

“You want that in real life?” he asks softly.

“More than anything,” Peter mumbles shyly into Tony’s chest. Tony feels a warmth spread through his entire body at Peter’s words, and he decides that the proposal is back on. Tonight.

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i think they should fuck nasty until their beards are wet and sticky

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borky gettin ate.jpeg

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Art inspired by “Slow Like Honey,” a gift for lickerish-button as part of the Summer Lovin’ 2015 Stucky D/s Exchange.

That story doesn’t include rimming; but since it ends with Bucky promising to show his girl a good time, I can’t imagine the evening wouldn’t include that.

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15 min STUCKY sketch break after work is done

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another version

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I just can't stop thinking about Steve, with his gold-tinted propaganda image kept neat and tidy even after all these years, breaking from the mold in the most predictable way.

'Cause he isn't the perfect soldier everyone has been taught to see him as through careful textbook writing. He isn't the censored, corners-tucked-in, blindly nationalistic pawn the government wants its citizens to believe in. He was a goddamn fairy in Brookyln circa 1930, born of an immigrant and bullied from the moment he set foot on a schoolyard. He's been known he's filthy and impure for a while. Everyone else just needs to keep up. C'mon, some laws are bullshit meant to be broken anyhow; some laws are meant to be broken repeatedly, day after day, multiple times a day if he's got the time and energy 👀

But--

The one thing the history books did get right is that Steve does have a moral compass that's unbreakable and unflinching. So, of course, when he gets jokingly challenged, he also gets seriously roped into some charity wet fucking t-shirt contest.

He could never dream of saying no.

What's a little filth for a guy like Steve? And when it's doing a service? Shit. There ain't nothing he can do but let it rain down on him 😏

When the footage is finally released on Cap's official social media pages, the public would be freaking out way worse over their national icon making an irresistible thirst-trap of himself if it weren't for a good cause. 'Cause, okay, of course, Cap had to do that.

That.

Standing there. On some New York City roof with the sunset just beginning over his big, broad shoulders, coating everything in thick, honey-colored light. He's in nothing but grey S.H.I.E.L.D-issue sweatpants and a tiny, little white t-shirt shirt. Already obscene, but then--

When he's dunked, flipping a whole cooler full of ice water on his own head, shit, he's blushing so hard you can see his fever-hot blush painting his pale skin through his thin, sinfully tight, white t-shirt that really didn't need to be wet in the first place to leave nothing to the imagination. But, now that it is wet... it just makes it easier to see the pretty pink points of his achingly hard nipples and the fast-fading bitemarks circling the mounds of his rounded, thickly-muscled tits.

His fucking body.

Goddamn.

Dripping wet, soaked, Steve's chest heaves, reacting almost too sensually to the cooler of freezing water thrown down onto him by his own capable hands.

Little do the millions and millions of viewers who watch and rewatch the clip know, Steve isn't blushing from being suddenly indecently exposed to the public. His sensible, good-guy shyness kicking in. Nah. He's blushing like fuckin' crazy because Bucky's the one filming it. Bucky. Bucky with his teeth being the ones that left the marks in Steve's freckled, unblemished skin.

And, damn, Bucky's hand not holding the phone in place is already on his bulge, palming his cock teasingly to the wet-dream sight of his fucking boyfriend shoving himself off. No one gets to touch him like Bucky touches him but everyone gets to see what Bucky gets to sink his fucking teeth into.

Look, but don't touch. Don't you fucking dare touch.

The abrupt end-cut of the video isn't a mistake. It's to keep Bucky's low, lust-thick growl between just the two of them.

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Stucky

+ sketches, maybe I'll finish them someday

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You taste like every dark thought I’ve ever had

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Imagine Bucky craving touch like oxygen. He’s always been a very physical person, showing his affection through pats on the back and grabbing and nudging and rough one-armed hugs that used to jar Steve’s fragile ribs. Now, after decades of being handled like a live grenade and touched only to restrain or hurt, his hands-on approach to friendship has been all but burned out of him. He’s twitchy and jumpy, all too aware of the brute strength in his own hands and the implicit danger in other people’s. He does not touch. He positions himself at a cautious distance from everyone around him, and when close quarters are required he shrinks in on himself like all his limbs are dangerous weapons that might lash out unexpectedly if he doesn’t keep them locked against his body.

And the others all assume that the distance is what he wants, until the day Steve finds him slumped against the bathroom cabinet after an incident Bucky has made it clear he doesn’t want to talk about, trying to strap his bruised and battered right hand with a bandage held taut between his teeth. “Let me,” Steve says, and Bucky cedes the task without a word of protest; Steve wraps his hand as gently as he can, aware that it’s probably sore as hell, and when he’s done Bucky doesn’t pull away. Just sits there, staring with a kind of wistful fixation at Steve’s hands cradling his.

So Steve tests the waters. Slowly, respectfully, mindful of the many reasons Bucky has to be wary of intrusions on his personal space. But everywhere he touches, all Bucky’s careful boundaries seem to melt like ice beneath his fingers: he rests his hand on Bucky’s forearm when they talk, and Bucky actually sways in closer, until the standing distance between them just barely rides the edge of social comfort. He sits right next to Bucky on the couch and lets his arm go numb from the weight of Bucky leaning in against him, cushioning his head on Steve’s shoulder with a comfortable sigh. He rests a hand on the back of Bucky’s neck and rubs the tense knots of muscle he finds there, and Bucky - there’s no other word for it - purrs, mouth slack and eyes wide with possibly the most disproportionate gratitude Steve has ever seen from him.

And it doesn’t cap out. The more Steve offers, the more Bucky drinks it all in. Steve commits every detail and every preference to memory: the arch of Bucky’s spine when Steve knuckles the knot between his shoulder blades; the quiet, radiating contentment when he sits beside Bucky on the couch and laces their fingers together; the shaky little exhalation when Steve combs his hands through his hair and scrapes his scalp with blunted nails.

Later, he will learn more again: the way Bucky melts into Steve’s kisses, eyes wide open like he doesn’t quite trust the experience to last if he closes them. The way they do scrunch closed when Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist; the tiny shivers as Steve mouths his way down the curve of Bucky’s throat. He maps every inch of Bucky’s body with his hands and mouth until Bucky is squirming beneath him, eyes glassy and unfocused, breath coming in shaky gasps.

(When it’s over, Bucky does not let go of him for a very long time. Steve, unsurprisingly, doesn’t mind.)

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if “but you’re keeping the outfit, right” segued into something else

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💦

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Wip/ sketches

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Peter and Tony having different dominant hands so whenever they’re working next to each other they can hold hands

(Actually they technically have the same dominant hand but Tony can work equally well with both his hands so he just switches to hold Peter’s hand)

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Sometimes before big plans Tony and Peter made are coming up, Tony makes sure to takes a day to wrench orgasm after orgasm out of Peter because he knows that if he doesn’t utterly exhaust Peter a day in advance Peter will have a point where he will absolutely loose himself and beg Tony no matter where they are or what they’re doing

And sometimes it’s nice to slip away from the gala to fuck Peter breathless for a while but sometimes they also need to socialize and that’s only possible if Tony utterly exhausted Peter a day in advance