#team is good and the window is open for a good bit longer — petey and sebastian a.ho would be among the best one two punches down the middle

[larsnicklas]

can i say something controversial.

[andilovetowrite]

Controlled Freakiness (P.P x Reader)

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

This can be read as a continuation of Initial Shyness, or as a stand-alone.

Summary: Confessions are cute, right? Especially when you have been waiting for years to say it out loud. But what happens when the initial shyness wears off? And we all know Peter isn’t as innocent as he seems ;)

Warnings: Mention of blood and knives. Also some suggestiveness and making out. Nothing too graphic though. A couple of bad words here and there as well.

Word Count: 3.4k

Based on a request, you can find it here!

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to find more of my work :)

If someone told you that one day, you and Peter Parker would be caught making out in your bedroom, you would’ve laughed at them. But...as it turns out, they wouldn’t have been too wrong about that.

Let’s go back to about five months ago, on the rooftop of Peter’s apartment, where he had met you with a bouquet of red roses and an even redder face …

5 months ago

“Why-why would yo-is this-u” you tried to speak, with little success. You could feel your face heat up in embarrassment, so you just stared at the flowers in Peter’s hands.

“I-uh really, um like you Y/N. Like more than an a-a friend. And much more than a best friend. I know yo-you may not like me back, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer-”

You know it’s rude to interrupt someone when they are speaking. But you couldn’t hear any other word come out of his mouth because otherwise, you would’ve melted. So you did the next best thing. You kissed him. Hard.

His words got caught in his throat as his lips met yours. And for a second, you were worried you went too far, pulling back. But as soon as he felt you doing that, his hands went to your hair, pulling you flush against him, kissing you back with fervour.

You wish you could’ve stopped time. Right there. During a beautiful sunset, on the roof surrounded by rose petals, and with Peter in your arms. And in your mouth. But sadly, you needed air to breathe, so you pulled away, probably looking like a fish straight out of the water. Opening your eyes, you could see Peter’s face. His pupils were dilated, and his entire face was a pink hue. His lips were plump and red but pulled up in a lovesick smile.

You knew you had the same expression on your face. Smiling softly, you looked at Peter, and at the same time, you both said.

“I really like you.”

“I really like you.”

Anyway, so that was probably one of the highlights of your day, but possibly one of the happiest days in your dad’s life. His little apprentice/almost son kissed and confessed to his only daughter. It couldn’t have worked out better. No boy would ever be good enough for you, and no ordinary girl would be good enough for Peter. So naturally, he was thrilled to hear that you two were now a couple.

And that’s why you wished he didn’t have to be the first one to walk in on you and Peter. So that brought you to the infamous Saturday that was now known as the Satisfying Saturday...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Friday, 8:00 pm, Avenger’s Compound

“Hey Y/N”, Peter called out, walking through the open window. His Spidey suit was cut loose in different places, and the minute he stepped in, his mask disappeared, showing his tired and bruised face.

“What the heck Pete?”, you shouted, jumping up from your bed. “What happened? How did I not get an alert?”

Peter looked down sheepishly, which then made you realise that he was still standing on the roof.

“Peter! Get down, and tell me what happened?!” You pointed down sternly, letting him jump on the floor, wincing as he hit his leg. Running to the first aid kit you kept in your room for times like these, you picked up some hydrogen peroxide and cotton pads, letting Peter sit down on your bed.

“So, tell me, Peter? What was it this time? You asked, dabbing the disinfectant on his face first. He flinched as you pressed it, hissing softly as the pad made contact with his skin. Shushing softly, you focused on cleaning his wounds, moving your thumb over them to soothe them.

“Y/N, you know, it wasn’t as bad-”

“Really Pete? You are bleeding like a fire hydrant. Why didn’t Karen update my dad or the tower? Or me?”

“Yeah um, about that, I disabled the Careless Boyfriend command”, he said, looking at you expectantly. You scratched your head, scoffing.

“It was a great device! Plus, who do you think makes the suits with Mr Stark?” Leaning back, you grabbed some antiseptic cream, putting it over his face. “So, you still have to tell me whose ass to kick when I go out on patrol..”

“Actually, it was-”

“Wait, let me guess...old lady with a ferocious cat, both of whom thought you were a creepy Comic-Con freak!” Laughing slightly at the pout on his face, you pressed the tiny spider on his chest, watching as the suit untightened, falling from his body effortlessly. Now, usually, his abs and glowing skin would distract you for a bit, but it was different this time. Dark red blood oozed out from deep cuts on his abdomen, falling on the bed around him. Your eyes widened as they roamed over his injuries.

“Peter! Wha- what did they use? A normal knife wouldn’t cut you like this!” Peter’s face scrunched up in pain as he remembered it, but seeing the look on your face, he grabbed your hand, nodding at you.

“It-it’s fine Y/N. Um, actually, they were using some suspicious-looking gadgets, so yo-you have to tell Mr Stark about it so-”

“No Pete, I mean, I’ll tell dad about this, but first I gotta get you to the infirmary. Holy crap…” you rambled, pulling his suit off.

“Baby, if you wanted my clothes off, you could have just said”, Peter said, smirking at you. Hitting his arm, you glared at him playfully.

“Watch it Parker. I could leave you here!”, you said, throwing the suit into the wash, mentally reminding yourself to make him a more durable suit. Grabbing him, you made him hobble out of your room. In the light of the tower, you can see how fagged out he was looking.

“Hey princes- what the heck happened to you Peter?!”, you dad asked, walking over to the two of you. Taking some of Peter’s weight, he called out to F.R.I.D.A.Y, asking her to call the nearest medics. “How did this happen, Pete?”

“Well, I think it wassss-”, Peter began, but slumped down after a couple of seconds, falling in your arms.

“Dad! What do I do?”

“It’s fine, he’ll be okay, lets just get him to the clinic, um- Steve! Help us out with Spiderboy here”

Carrying him, you got him to the doctors, watching as his wounds already started to patch themselves up. Metal gadgets ran over his body as your dad spoke to the head medic, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“What happened to him?”, you asked. It wasn’t the worst Peter had seen, but you had never seen him pass out before due to a cut.

“Um, so we are detecting some slight substances in his bloodstream, but we are working on removing it.”

“What substances?”, Tony asked, inhaling sharply.

“We aren’t sure yet, but the results should come in about a day.”, the doctor said, looking back at Peter, “As for Spiderman, he should take a couple days off.” He then looked at you. “Did Peter say anything at all about the weapons?”

You shook your head, thinking back. “Nothing much, except for that they were looking suspicious. Maybe the team can go and track back where Peter was patrolling, you know? To see if they can catch the guys who hurt him?”

Tony nodded, as he went back to the living room, probably to call all the Avengers. Trailing after him, you ran to get your suit, but was stopped halfway. “Hey, Tiny Stark, why don’t you stay with Spiderboy. To make sure he is fine?” Natasha asked, glancing at Tony as he slightly nodded his head.

“But you might need help?”

“We’ll be fine. Plus, if these are as dangerous as Peter said, then we wouldn’t want you getting injured. Best you stay here” Dejectedly saying yes, you bid them goodbye.

“Oh, and have fun with the kid. He is pretty hot, and I know you can hit that”, Nat said, winking at you.

Smiling shakily, you stepped back, watching as they left the tower, leaving only you and Peter back.

Fast forward to about 3 long hours later, Peter finally woke up, looking much better. “Y/N? What happened, where’s Mr-”

“Gone out to track down those guys, and they won’t be back till tomorrow”, you said, glancing at your comms. “Said that they were following them to the base”

Peter nodded, looking drowsy. “Can-can I please get some food?”

Smiling at him, you quickly checked if he was ready to be discharged before you got him up. A bit unsteady on his feet, Peter followed you to the living room, falling on the couch. “Whatcha want Pete? A sandwich, or some pasta?”

“Popcorn...caramel please.”

You laughed, grabbing some from the cupboard marked Movie Nights. “Really? You need protein!” Peter didn’t say anything, instead of looking at you with his famous puppy eyes as he pouted. “Fine fine! You win”

Smiling at you, he opened his arms. Hesitantly, you crawled into them, making sure not to apply pressure on his stomach. Times like these were rare. Sure, you and Peter were a couple, but PDA was little at the towers and you two were some of the shyest people when it came to displaying affection in front of people. So you relished times like these when you could just be close to Peter.

“So Peter, what movi-”

*Snore*

*Snore*

Amused, you peered back at him, your heart-melting when you saw Peter fast asleep, his arms wrapped around you and his head lolled back against the cushions. Shrugging to yourself, you quietly switched off the lights, getting up carefully, but almost immediately being pulled back.

“Petey, I gotta get up”, you whispered softly.

“Nuh uh, nope”, he said, his chocolate brown eyes sleepily staring at you, “stay here”

So you stayed. And it was one of the best nights of sleep you had ever had. Little did you know though, tomorrow would be one of the most interesting days of your life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Good morning Y/N Stark and Peter Parker. I just wanted to inform you that the furniture replacement dudes are on their way up. For Mr Parker’s identity to be kept secret, I would advise you to make your way to the individual rooms or the medbay.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s automated voice floated through the air, waking you up.

Peter began stirring lightly from under you, making you sit up. His light brown curls sat on his forehead, falling into his eyes. He started mumbling words under his breath as he sat up, rubbing his eyes roughly.

“Ugh drool”, he muttered, wiping his mouth.

Leaning towards him, you brushed his hair out of his face. “Well, good morning to you too Mr Parker”

“Ms Stark, good morning”, Peter said, pulling you into his arms once more. Smiling, you hoped he wouldn’t see your face, as you push your face onto the couch. Pulling back just enough to see him, you leaned down to brush your lips against his, softly at first. Peter sighed into your mouth, and met back up with fevor, his hands tangling themselves in your hair. You could’ve stayed there, but Peter let go, his head still leaning against yours.

“As much as I would love to spend the rest of my day like this, w-we have to get up”, you said, hearing the guys come up the elevator, “like right now Peter!”

Jumping up, you both ran, laughing at F.R.I.D.A.Y as she tried to slow down the elevator without breaking it. “Oh and by the way, how did F.R.I.D.A.Y. learn to say, dudes?”

“Who do you think works with Mr Stark on Friday?”, Peter asked, referring to what you said yesterday to him. Which made you remember his wound.

“How’s your stomach?”, you asked, wanting to pull his shirt up and find out, but way too awkward to do it.

“It’s perfectly fine. Kinda bruised by the feels of it, but the cuts have gone..”, he said, walking back to your room. “When’s the team heading back?”

“Uh, I’m not sure actually, let me just-”, you said, calling Tony up. “Hey Dad, how’s the mission? Find anything yet?”

“Oh, hey sweetheart, uh, can’t talk right now”, Tony grunted as gunshots were heard from behind him, “but we’ll be home by tonight. How’s ugh, um Peter?”

“Oh yeah, Peter’s fine. We’ll probably just watch some movies or something. Do you need anything? Food, rations, help?”

“Esteemed Daughter, who are you talking to? I’m Iron Man, I don’t need any helppppp”, your dad yelled as the sound of metal was his before the line got cut. Peter looked at you with wide eyes, his face shocked.

“Will Mr Stark be okay?”

“Yeah, he will...probably. Nat will call in a bit anyway, so let’s just wait”, you said, jumping on your bed. Patting the place next to you, you watched as Peter shed his shirt, walking over to your bed in his grey sweatpants. Inhaling sharply, you pushed away any thoughts that were coming into your mind as Peter laid down, his arm going around you as he kissed your cheek.

God, you wish he would kiss you somewhere else.

Shaking your head, you asked, “So, which movie should we watch?”

“Um, how about...Hunger Games?”, he asked, slyly grinning at you. Damn him, he knew it was your favourite “nerd” movie. Nodding at him with a grin, you switched it on, falling back onto Peter as the movie started.

Sadly, you weren’t able to focus on the movie too much. Because you were too focused on your boyfriend next to you. Due to the fact that he was an Avenger like you, the timings for the two of you were cramped. With college, and patrolling, there were very different lifestyles the two of you led. As best friends you used to be inseparable but as a couple? Oh, it was a completely different story.

Whenever you two were alone, someone would always interrupt you. Whether it was May at Peter’s place or Ned at school, there was not a single minute the two of you could just hang out. So naturally, you two hadn’t gone to second base. Or even 1.5th place. But today, with the tower absolutely empty, you couldn’t say that your mind didn’t wander. And the clip of Katniss and Peeta making on the screen didn’t help either. So you said something you weren’t too happy about…

“Peter, I wanna jump your bones right now”

“Wha-uh, huh? Y-you wanna do wh-um, jump m-my bones...Uh, I don’t- uh what?!” Peter stuttered, his face bright red. But you were too far down that lane so you just nodded.

“Yeah dude” Peter didn’t say anything again, his eyes glassing over as he stared at you. “Fine...but couldIkissyouabitmorethanusualplease?”

“Uh ye-yeah, if if you want to?”, Peter said, his face flushed pink as he stared at you, adoration in his eyes. Smiling at him with what you hoped with an “I-wanna-make-out-with-you” look, you moved next to him, your face hovering about his. Kissing him lightly at first, it grew deep as Peter grunted softly under you, capturing your lips between his teeth. Suddenly, he grabbed you, pulling you down under him. Now he was the one over you, and when your hand went to his hair, he let out the softest of sounds. But you heard it...and god did it get a reaction out of you.

Now, if you were in your right mind, you would go and put a sock in the door, or tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to disable the elevator to your level. But you were too preoccupied with a certain someone to even bother about that. That is how this entire whole thing started.

Coming back to you and Peter making on your bed, your legs were thrown over his waist as he pulled you to him, your back hovering off the bed. Oh, the joys of having a superhero boyfriend. Anyway, just as he was about to leave your lips to trail kisses down your neck...the door opened.

You didn’t hear the door open though. What you did hear was the multitude of voices, and your dad’s one the loudest.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!”

You couldn’t blame him. It did look bad. With Peter not wearing his shirt and his back bare, it looked like he wasn’t wearing any clothes since our lower bodies were under your cover. Peter also covered you the minute he heard your dad’s voice, which further implied that you both were very very naked.

“DAD!”

“MR STARK!”

You stared at your dad, noticing now that the entire team was standing outside the door, their breaths held and eyes peering. “It-it’s not what it looks like! I promise…”

“Peter, get the hell out of my daughter”, your dad said calmly, his eyes looking everywhere else but at us.

“Dad, he isn’t i-in me. Look!”, you said, pulling the cover’s off you two to show your very covered legs.

“Fine, at least I won’t become a grandfather tonight. But why were you on my daughter Mr Parker?”

Poor Peter, he looked like he was about to faint. “Uh, Mr Stark w-we were just um, hugging? Tightly-”

“With what? Your mouths?”, Sam called out, laughing with Bucky.

“Not now Sam!” you yelled, shooting them a glare.

“Now, I don’t care what you do...but don’t you dare touch my daughter in a harmful way. Got it Parker?”

“Y-yes Mr St-Stark. I won’t, I love your daughter t-too much”

Looking at Peter, your eyes filled with love as you hugged him, kissing him softly. “Aw, I love you too Pete...even if you tried to fuck me right now!”

“WHAT?!”

“Kidding kidding. Anyway, let’s get outta here...please!”

Tony scoffed, turning around but then glanced at Peter. “Take care of your “little” problem before you come downstairs, Peter.”

“Huh? Oh…”, Peter said, hurriedly covering up himself. Giggling, you tried to go closer but were pulled back by your dad.

“Nuh-uh. He’s gonna take care of it. By. Him. Self.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked out, winking at Peter before you walked out. Catching up with the rest of the group, they all grinned at you, making you worried. “What?”, you asked, backing away slightly.

“I think we can all call this day a…”

“Satisfying Saturday!”, they all yelled out, with Natasha bumping shoulders with you and Steve shaking his head behind her.

You sighed, copying Steve. “This isn’t gonna go away, is it?”

“Nope”, Thor said, laughing loudly.

And it didn’t. But thank god they only caught you making out. The next time Peter and you were caught, it was much much worse. But that’s a story for another time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ooh, that was the longest fic I’ve ever written, but boy, was it a fun one to write. Thanks so much for reading it, and if you liked this one, you can be added to the Taglist for the Caught By Them series. My requests are also open if you have any ideas, but if not, then see you next time!

BTW: Spent about 20 min trying to figure out the type of disinfectant used to treat stab wounds. That’s 20 minutes I’ll never get back, but if I ever do get into a fight, at least I’ll know what treatment to use…

Tagging some people from my last series in case they would enjoy this one :)

@idkatee @eternalscribblesforthesoul @loudbluepancake @poisondevotion @scram1326 @t-hollanderr @305weasley @starknik22 @marvelfansworld @lou-la-lou @lomlparker @marvelfansworld @wowitsel @vanteguccir @fullcheesecakeengineer @ladykxxx08 @allegras-sunflower @ifyouknewhowmiserylovedme

[generallybarzy]

under twinkling lights.

an: christmas in april? sorry this took so long.. but here’s a little bit of established relationship and soft cute Christmas smut! Its been too long since we had something so sweet and smutty about our fav cute ass couple. It’s all sweet and soft and cute and then it gets filthy... the perfect dynamic, i want what they have. i was only inspired to finish this because of barzys hatty tonight haha, he deserves everything. I didn’t really spell check this yet, just needed to post finally!! Personally, I think its the hottest thing I've ever wrote. Lemme know!!! 💕

tagging: @softboybarzal​ @fallinallincurls​ @matbaerzal​ @npatrickz​ @canadianheaters​ @selenophileangel​ @deleausvp​ @colecaufields​ @hockeyhughes11​ @nazdaddy​ @barzysreputation​ @comphybiscuit​ @aboveaveragehockeyboys​ @ifiwasshawnmendesidslapmyself​ @petey-patty​ @starswin​ @heatherawoowoo​ ​

word count: 6.5k

You never believed you’d find someone to spend your life with. If anyone told you your holidays would one day be spent cuddling up with your boyfriend of almost two years in the apartment that you had just moved into together earlier that month, you would have told them they were wrong. Flat out wrong. Things as beautiful and destined as that only happened in movies, and you certainly weren’t lucky enough to get something like that. But, now, here you were.

And here was Mat.

Even after two years with Mat, there was still nothing better than spending the evening cuddled up with him on the couch. No matter how many fancy, expensive dinner dates he took you on at upscale restaurants in the city or how many helicopter rides you took together out in B.C. when he was showing you his home, or how much you loved hanging out with his friends and his family and his teammates, nothing was better than cuddles at home. As much time you spent together, you still felt as giddy and comfortable and safe and at-peace as that first time with him. Things didn't simmer down, that spark didn't fade away after a bit like you feared they would. But they became more subtle. You no longer had to ask him to come to the couch to cuddle, you no longer worried that maybe he wouldn't want to. It was a habit, at this point, to fall into his arms at the end of the day just the same as he did with you. You were each other’s safe havens, the place you laid your head to rest. You loved each other, and there was no place you’d rather be than together.

You’d spent the evening baking cookies, decorating the new tree, and wrapping his family member's Christmas gifts- a book his mom had been wanting, along with some of the cookies you'd made and various at-home spa items; hockey memorabilia and classic jerseys for his dad; and some new pieces of technology and the latest eye shadow palette that his sister had been wanting, along with some stupid jokes gifts that he wrapped in duct tape like the annoying older brother he was. Now, after the sunset bared its last light over the horizon and through your window, you lay together in bliss, with the tree twinkling its colorful lights across the room as you and Mat snuggled on the couch under a fluffy blanket, and everything felt right. 

"I don't know why we went through all that work to decorate the tree if we're not even spending Christmas here." Mat grumbled playfully, his head on your chest, partially hidden under the blanket. 

"Well," your face glowed in a smile as you remembered the flight out to Vancouver you had in a few days. Spending holidays with his family was always your favorite. Your family wasn’t the best, and it wasn’t too healthy to spend your holidays with them, but you always had Mat and his family. They were so welcoming, so kind, and for as many years now as you’d gone as Mat’s girlfriend, they had accepted you like family. "Because this is our home, Mat. It'd be wrong not to decorate it for the first time." 

"I don't need a tree for this to feel like home." 

“Aww, baby.”

“It’s true.” He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees above you on the couch, bringing his face level with yours. His warm breath hit your lips as he brushed his nose against yours, eyes slipping shut and grinning. “I love you. Always.”

“I love you always too.” 

"I'm so glad you're here. I'm so happy we live together, finally." 

"I'm glad we live together, too." 

Mat snuggled down into your neck, the locks of dark hair that had been growing out lately tickling your face. You reached up to brush them aside and curl your hand around the back of his head, cupping his head against you tenderly . His hair was getting so nice and long, and you knew he’d have to cut it soon, per the team's guidelines, but god, you were gonna cherish it now. 

"I actually have something for you, Maty."

"A Christmas present?" 

"Well, an early Christmas present." You smiled at the excited look on his boyish face as he leaned back, the lights from the tree highlighting the sparkle in his eye. "You can't open it at your parent's house, so we're gonna do it here instead."

"What is it?" 

"Try to figure it out." 

He sat up then, his eyes scanning the room for anything that might seem out of the ordinary, anything that might be hidden. He was looking for his present, and you had to hold back a laugh at the sight. 

"Maty…" 

"No, no, I'll find it."

"Babe…"

"I got this."

"Let me give you a hint, at least." You sat up with him and took his hand in yours and cupped it against your cheek, turning your head to the side to kiss his fingers. He smiled at the touch, melting back into you and tracing his thumb across your skin. 

"Alright, gimme the hint."

You pushed his hand down the smooth skin of your neck, the swell of your breasts, down the curve of your waist, and to the hem of his hoodie that swallowed you up. "It's right in front of you, baby." 

"For real?" The joy in his eyes was the same you saw the first time you told him you were ready to take that step, almost two years ago now. No matter how many times you were together, he was always just as excited.

“You say that as if we’ve never done this before.”

“It always feels like the first time.” 

You glowed and let go of his hand to reach up and cup his face between both of you. His words came so simply and without hesitation that you knew he was sincere. “Aw, Mat…”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re so sweet tonight.”

“Maybe I just really want to lay some love on you.” He hitched his hands under your thighs and tugged you close, lying you back against the couch once again. His hands slid up the soft skin of your tummy and waist, dipping under your shirt momentarily, and causing your breath to hitch in your throat- his hands always managed to do that to you- as you breathed out the words against his lips. 

“Maybe I’m gonna let you.” 

With one last grin, his face dipped down to yours, locking your lips together in a familiar, electric dance. Soft, gentle lips moving against yours had never felt as good as with any other boyfriends as they do with Mat. His touch was intoxicating, made your mind wander and your heart race flushed your skin and shocked you to the core. Ever since the very first time his hand grazed against yours when he reached out to hold it for the first time, to the first time your bodies connected in passion under the covers, it felt the same. Like fire. Even two years later, he drove you insane, and all you wanted, and frequently achieved, was to drive him insane as well. In the best way possible. Mat broke apart from your lips momentarily to slip the hoodie over your head, revealing his gift. “Fuck…”

Right there, in front of his eyes, your breasts were covered only by a lacy crimson fabric, held together behind a pretty red bow. With each heavy breath of anticipation, your chest was heaving softly before his eyes, and he found himself hypnotized by the gentle rise and fall. 

“You like it?"

“Holy shit, you’re hot.” 

“So are you.” 

His eyes were wide, warm, and gentle, looking over you. He dragged his gaze away from your chest even though you could tell how hard it was, and shook his head. “Not as much as you.”

"Mmm", you took the liberty of taking his hands from where they had frozen beside you and placing them, big and warm, over your chest. "Go ahead, baby." 

"No, no, I wanna savor this first."

His mouth dipped down, soft hair tickling your neck as he nibbled at your chest, laying little love bites and kisses along the tender skin. He cupped your boobs and squeezed them around his face, humming in content. You couldn’t help but laugh as he buried his face against you, and you could feel his grin break out against your skin. “Having fun, baby?”

“Oh my god, yes. You’re gorgeous. So soft.” 

“Mmhm.” You sighed into his touch as he kissed his way back up your chest.

“Baby.” He spoke softly to get your attention, and your eyes opened lazily to see him, biting his lip and holding the delicate ribbon between two fingers. “Can I?”

“Please.” He gave a gentle tug, and with one last heave of your chest, the lacy bralette fell open, revealing one of Mat’s favorite parts of your body. 

“Fucking Christ.” 

“Bub, you can’t be swearing like that so close to Christmas.” 

“How do you expect me not to when you’re…. God, just so perfect…” You saw the way his eyes glazed over mid-sentence in the colorful lights of the tree, the way his jaw went slack as you arched your chest up towards him. He reached out, slowly, as if worried you were going to disappear if he moved too quickly, and when the large, rough hands curled around the side of your waist and slid up and down, you felt goosebumps pop up along your skin. 

“Your fingers are cold.”  

“But you love it.” He ran the pad of his thumb over your nipples, watching as they pebbled under his touch in the cold air. “So do I.” 

“Warm me up?”

“Always.”

He dipped his head down, his mouth hot and wet along the peaks and valleys of your chest, down your stomach.

His fingers traveled over the familiar layout of your body, colored in soft golden and red and green in the dancing Christmas lights, tracing each recognizable landmark with specific care- every memorized freckle and birthmark he had kissed since your first night together and every dimple in your skin that he cherished, every spot that had his fingerprints imprinted onto like memory foam after so many nights spent holding you tight with everything in him, as if you'd slip away. As if you'd want to. With each inch his hands followed, he found more, there was always more territory to be marked down, jotted down in his brain for future reference. He was always finding something new. Something more to use against you, to use against you in the best way possible, to push you further and further to that blissful end goal.

He made his way down, down, down, until his breath was hot over your lace-covered core, his hand gripping your hips tightly. Mat smiled as your hands found his hair, curling your fingers through a fistful of the dark locks before releasing and smoothing it back into place again. Mat's favorite thing about going down on you, besides the way it pleasured you, was the way your hands felt on his head, massaging and grabbing and twisting and pulling. It was heaven to him, letting you guide him around like that. 

“Can I take them off?” 

“Hmm.” As much as you wanted him to ravage you right there, with those soft, sultry eyes he was giving you, he was wearing far too many clothes. “You first.” 

Mat didn't say anything else before stripping out of his dark crew neck sweater and jumping up off the couch to kick his gray sweats down. His smile was contagious as your gaze dropped from his face, down his bare chest and the little chain you’d gotten him for your anniversary, down towards the tent in his boxers with a silly, excited grin. He laughed. "Not tired of seeing me yet?" 

"Never."

"You sure you’re not getting bored of my dick yet?"

"No, baby. Definitely not.” You grinned, the thought of spending the rest of your life with him bouncing around your mind. “Why? Are you getting bored of me?"

"No way." Mat leaned down to lace your fingers together and lock lips. "How could I?"

"How could I get tired of you, Maty?"

Mat hummed. He loved this little play, the little banter, the back and forth. He'd loved it since you first started dating, and he always would. He knew you loved him endlessly, but he played along. "I'm just a hockey player."

"No, you're my hockey player. My boyfriend. My pretty, pretty baby."

Mat settled back down between your legs with a warm smile. "Yeah, I am. So can I take these off now?" He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties. "C'mon, I know how much you love my tongue."

Your thighs squeezed around him at the words. “Fuck, please.”

“Anything for my baby.” 

You lifted your hips for him as he tugged the lacy fabric down your thighs with nimble fingers, stopping momentarily after they were off to just look at you. He let out a sigh, his eyes finding yours again with a soft look as you squirmed a bit beneath him- not because you were shy, no, you were long past that point in your relationship, but because you just needed him to do anything to you. Mat had spent the past two years helping you love and appreciate your body, and this, right here in this moment, was the perfect showcase of how much he helped- as he was gazing down at your naked body and the only thing you felt was just the absolute need and desire for his body to move against yours and his warmth to cover you up. No nerves. Only love, and need. 

“Shit, you’re gorgeous.” 

“I know.” 

The lack of hesitation in your reply had Mat bending over you and laughing. “That’s your response?”

“Yeah! I mean, you let me know. You make me feel so confident.”

“Mmhm, good, babygirl.” He scooted back down to lay his head against the soft, naked inside of your thigh gazing up at you through his eyelashes. “I always wanna make you feel good. Physically and mentally.” He turned to lay open-mouthed kisses against your thighs, and any thought of response you may have had dissolved completely as you leaned back and waited for him to do his magic. His hand reached up to cup your heat, just feeling you against his palm for a moment before swiping a long finger through your fold, smiling and raising his eyebrows at you. “Oh? Already so wet for me?” 

“Always, baby. You should know this by now.”

“Yeah?” He dipped his fingers at your opening teasingly and his head dipped down to connect his lips with your clit, kissing it gently and watching you squirm. “Ugh, I could fuck you right now if I was in a rush. But you know the foreplay is my favorite part.”

“I know. And you’re so good.” 

“Good.” 

He went silent then, his tongue wide and wet, licking a long stripe along your slick and gathering the wetness at your clit, giving it soft, kitten licks and wet kisses. He listened intently for every soft sigh that left your lips- music to his ears- and felt every tug on his hair when he flicked his tongue in small circles around that spot like he knew you loved. And the best part was that he knew. You didn’t understand how couples could get tired of each other after years. You didn’t understand how the excitement could flicker away or how they could get tired of each other’s bodies or minds. Never in your relationship with Mat have you felt as excited as now, two years in. The thought that he knew your body inside and out, maybe even better than you did, was just so overwhelming in the best possible way, and the longer you lay there, with Mat’s mouth on you, you couldn’t stop thinking that this is your man.   

Mat was lying flat against the long couch, his face between your thighs and his hands holding your legs open for him. His dark hair was a wild mess, and you could see the gentle movements of his lower back and ass and the back of his thighs illuminated golden in the lights, rolling lazily against the couch cushion- covered by a blanket, of course- to provide any friction for his sadly untouched cock. 

You hadn’t even noticed the noises dripping from your lips until Mat pulled back, and the lack of feeling his mouth against your core had you whining for him.

“Fuck, I’ll never get over you.” 

“Mmmmat.” You hummed his name, dragging out the “M” in the way you knew he loved.  

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Please keep touching me.” 

He sat up, between your thighs, knees digging into the couch, and his bare thighs and torso on display for you. You loved him, all of him, and all of his body. His legs, his abdomen, his chest, his arms… all of it was amazing. Perfect to look at and perfect to touch, to grab, to dig your nails into as he railed you. To ground yourself with. “Baby, you know I love eating you out. But I just gotta see you right now. And talk to you.” His big hand slid up the inside of your thigh, and your breath caught in your throat when he started rubbing soft, small circles against your clit. “So this position will have to do, okay? I promise I’ll spend all day before our flight eating your pussy.”

“I’ll remember that.” 

“I hope so. God, this fucking thing. Could eat it for days.” He pushed a single finger inside you, slow and steady, but enough to make you clench around him. His fingers were so much better than yours, just a little longer and a little thicker in a way that had you squirming for more. “So fucking tight and wet. So hot. I’m so lucky to have you.” His free hand left your hip, leaving nothing but cold, empty fingerprints on your skin, and rubbed against the bulge in his dark boxers. You could see how much he was aching, and you were determined to make it better. 

“Mat, c’mere.” 

“I’m knuckles deep in your pussy, babe, how much closer do you want me?” You laughed at him, rolling your hip down against said finger. How he could be so funny and sexy at the same time was beyond you.

“Lie down with me. I wanna touch you.” You held your arms out for him and scooted to the side, and he obliged quickly, lying on his side between you and the back of the couch and hooking your left leg over his right thigh. His hand dipped back down between your thighs, pressing into you before you could even catch your breath, feeling exhilarated at the much more intimate position. “Oh, fuck, Mat.” You reached out to him, willing and eager to reciprocate the feeling. He drew in a sharp breath at the way your hand rubbed over the thick bulge in his boxers, pulling the waistband down just enough to release him from his cotton prison.  

His cock jumped up against his lower belly, stiff and pink and needy for you and only you. Your hand, your mouth, and you could tell by the way Mat’s fingers paused inside you that he was anticipating the moment your fingers wrapped around his length. “Oh, that feels so good. Always does, baby.” And then, as you worked your hand against him, he pumped his long fingers inside you, bringing his other thumb to rub mercilessly at your clit. But still, even with the way he was fucking you on his hand, the most intense part of this moment was the way he held your gaze; the lust, the need, the twinkle of amusement in his hazel eyes at the sheer amazement that he got to do this with you; and the love- the pure, unadulterated love that soaked from his skin to yours, in every touch, in ever moment spent together, every kiss, and every time you laid together, bare and vulnerable, in the heat of passion, under the twinkling lights or in the dark, safe haven of your home to show each other how much you loved each other. His warm eyes glittered in the light, reflecting the gold and green and red lights from the Christmas tree that illuminated the room, and the city lights outside the window of your apartment lit up his body and highlighted every muscle. Your apartment, the one you own together, and the one you knew you were going to make countless memories in. His eyes glittered with love, with the question of “can you believe we still make each other feel so good?” and with the statement “I want to kiss you so bad right now”. Your hand pumped his length, pulling a soft moan from his lips, one that you had used to have to work so hard to hear. “I want to hear you, baby” You had used to say, practically begging him to let himself go as he bit his lip to hold back the moans. It had taken a bit of encouragement, but now he never held back with the sounds that left his pretty mouth. You lay there, vulnerable and exposed to each other, staring into each other’s eyes as with hands between each other's thighs, cheeks pink and hearts full of love as you helped each other climb to that climax. 

You broke eye contact first, laughing breathlessly and feeling your cheeks go hot under his gaze. Despite the lack of shame you felt in front of him, he could still get you so flustered and giggly. 

“What’s so funny, beautiful?” He asked between shaky breaths. 

“You’re so beautiful, Mat. Those moans are so pretty. I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah?” He smiled with another laugh. “I can feel how wet you are. It’s crazy.” He slipped the tip of a third finger into you, your hole aching and pulsing around them already. “Oh, fuck, I love your moans too.” And you could tell he did, as his hips jerked helplessly up into your hand. “Faster, baby.” 

“Only if you kiss me.” 

Without hesitation, he leaned over and his lips locked onto yours, needy and begging but oh, so willing to go slow and passionate. The hand that had been teasing your clit came up to grab at you face, squeezing a tit on the way up, and you reached a free hand out to tangle in his dark hair as you leaned in and continued to jerk him in your hand- up and down, and up and down, twisting around the head just like he liked. “I love you.” He whispered against your lips, breaking apart for only a moment to look down at you one more time in awe. “I love you so fucking much.” 

“I love you, Mat.” 

“Fuck, I love you.” His lips crashed back against yours again, his fingers plunging deeper inside you as he kissed his promise into your lips, the promise that he was there and he’d always be there. He was yours. And you were his. Simply that. The heel of his palm rubbed against your clit as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting that wonderful spot and making fireworks twinkle behind your eyes. He groaned into your mouth as your hand curved over the head of his cock, palms getting slick with his pre-cum, and stroked back down to cup his balls gently. He let out a breathy laugh at the tender feeling. 

“Baby, look at me.” You cupped his cheeks between your hands and pulled him back when you began to feel your peak rising. He whined when your hand left his cock, aching and hard, and his fingers halted inside of you, cupping his palm against your heat.

“Oh, baby,” His eyes locked on you, making a show of how they were scanning up and down your body. “I’m looking.”

“I need you inside, right now.”

His bottom lip was sucked between his teeth and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the words. Even after so long, he still couldn’t handle hearing those words. His eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck, say less.” He rolled over you to sit upright on the couch, finally pushing his boxers all the way down his thighs and onto the floor. He gripped his cock in his hands and slid between your thighs, bending down over you to kiss your lips. “How do you want it?”

“Just like this.” Your hands fell to his hips and pulled him close. 

“Yeah?”

“Wanna see your face. Maybe it’s basic, but I love this position.”

“Yeah. It’s simple, but so intimate. I like it too.” He paused and leaned back for a moment, looking down at his sweatpants on the floor for something. “Shit, ugh, I don’t have a condom here, hold on-” 

“No, no, no.” Before Mat could run off to the bedside drawer, you grabbed his hands in yours, pulling him back to you. His eyes went soft and cautious for a few moments. 

“No? Babe, shouldn’t we…” 

“We’ve had conversations about this, right? About doing it without?” Mat nodded, a little smile beginning to pull on his lips. “I’m still on the pill, and I know I remembered to take all of them recently, so we’re still pretty safe, if you want.” 

“Fuck, I want.” He settled back down between your knees. “Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent.” 

“Alright.” Mat chuckled in boyish excitement. He reached a hand down between your bodies to adjust himself, nudging the blunt head of his cock against your clit and rubbing his pre-cum along your slit, lining up with your tight entrance and sending sparks through your body. “God, my God, I can’t wait to come inside you. Feel you around me completely. See my cum on you.” One last time, he bent his body down over yours, his weight warm and heavy, the metal of his chain cool between your chests, and pressed his mouth to yours, breathing in your warmth. One of your hands curled around his waist, slid to the small of his back, just like he always did to you, and the other cupped the back of his neck, fingers curling into the hairs and playing with the chain around his neck and pulling him in closer to your face. He broke away slightly with a sigh against your lips, his forehead bumping against yours and his nose nudging yours in a familiar gesture. He didn’t need to say the words anymore, because his quiet affections were ones that you’ve known for a long time. 

His question was loud and clear, and your answer was just as obvious. 

Mat brought a forearm down next to your head to steady himself, stroking the pad of his thumb against your warm cheek as his hips finally pushed against yours. Hands tightened their grips on each other’s bodies, sliding across hot skin slicked with sweat, and a euphony of moans mingled together in the air at the initial feeling of finally being connected in such a primal way again. His hips were flush against your own, and the weight of his thick cock inside of you was heavy and intoxicating; you could feel his tight abdomen expanding and contracting with every heavy breath and shudder through his body. He let out a long string of moans, his head dipping down to nibble at your throat, and fuck, did you know what he meant. You were connected, everywhere- heart, skin, and mind. “Fuck, oh my God, baby, hot as ever.” 

“Oh, Maty…” 

“I’m gonna give you so much love, beautiful.”

“Please.” 

The first withdrawal of his hips from yours was painstakingly slow, and all you wanted was for him to plunge back in again and again and again. And he intended to do that, in time. Mat loved to take his time, but it didn’t take him long to fulfill his promise, sliding back against you, his cock hard and aching inside your wet cunt. He found a steady, easy pace rolling his hips into yours, each stroke like electricity through your body, long and languid, taking his time to draw your pleasure out, taking the time to feel your body around him. His knee dug into the couch hard, steadying himself and getting more traction so he could pull closer to your body, snapping his hips against yours with slaps that had you both gasping for air. 

“Oh fuck…” 

“Feels so good, Mat.”

“You’re fucking amazing.” He let out another high-pitched whine and arched your leg over his hip. “More?”

“More, faster, please baby.” 

His hips slapped against yours with a groan, his big hands holding behind your knees and opening you wide for him. He leaned back to take a good look at you, at the scene in front of him, trying to take in every image he possibly could. Because these were the best moments. Not only the sex- god, but the sex was good- but just being together, being close, being intimate and so so close, yet only craving to become closer and closer. “God, you’re so hot, babe. So tight, so wet, all for me, right?” When you couldn’t answer, too overwhelmed with the way he was pounding against you, he took it as a sign to keep running his mouth. God, you loved to listen to him talk. “So wet, all for me. Getting all turned on over this big cock inside you, yeah?” You nodded your head enthusiastically, pulling his body closer to yours. He followed without hesitation, down and down until your bodies were glued together and he was just pushing against you, his hips driving yours into the couch cushions. “All fucked up for my cock, are you? Fucking beautiful.” 

“It’s so good, Maty, baby, so big, fills me up so good.”

“I love you. I love you, (Y/N).”

“Oh my God, Maty, I love you.” 

His mouth locked onto yours, sealing your lips together and swallowing your moans down. Dark locks of his hair shielded your face and tickled your cheeks, and as soon as he inched away to take a deep, shaky breath, your eyes opened up. He steadied himself on strong arms, framing your face, his veins prominent, and you curled a small hand as far around his thick bicep as you could, watching in awe as his head jerked back, throwing his long hair off his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrated on pounding against your dripping cunt. 

Slowly, his body peeled back off of yours, away, away, and he brought himself up to his knees in front of you. You let your eyes roll slip the long length of his torso, decorated with glittering reflections of gold and red and green, shining off the sheen of his sweat, and you looked from his thick neck, covered in your love-bites, down his chest, down the hard muscles of his abdomen and tummy, and down the V of his hips to the small patch of prickles that rubbed against your clit with every thrust. His thighs were spread open with your legs wrapped ever so gently around his hips, and his cock was stilled, aching inside of you. He shifted around on the couch momentarily, readjusting his knees on the cushions. “Ya know, we’d be a lot more comfortable in our bed than out here.” 

“But it’s so pretty out here. All the pretty twinkly lights on you…” 

“On me?” He laughed, “Look at yourself, babe. I’m fucking lucky.” 

His big hands traced down your cheeks, squeezed down your chest, curled down the curve of your waist and hips, before finally wrapping around the backs of your thighs and pulling you closer, hoisting your legs up, up, and over his shoulders and spreading you wide open in front of him. 

“Ooh, Mat…” You giggled a bit as he easily positioned you in the way he wanted, smirking down at you wickedly and rubbing his thumbs up and down the wet slick of your pussy. 

“Gonna make you fuckin’ come, babe, my god… you want that?”

“Yeah, yeah, please, Maty.” 

“Just a little bit longer, ‘kay?” He rolled his hips against yours again, starting up that steady pace again. His hands held your thighs open, lifting your legs up the length of his torso and locking them over his shoulders, and he never failed to make you seem tiny compared to him. You watched, mesmerized, as his abdomen tensed and hardened and spasmed as he tried to keep himself under control. 

“Please.”

“Little… longer.” 

With one more low moan, your boyfriend bent closer to you, his chain dangling in your face tauntingly as he got back to pounding away at you, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every erratic movement, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier and his breaths getting deeper. He was so goddamn close to that edge. He could tell you were getting there, too. You’d been on the edge ever since he started pounding you, but now, you were only a few feather light touches away from falling over that edge. And Mat was ready for it, he could barely hold his own seems together, he could barely think about anything except how rock hard he was and how your tits were bouncing so perfectly in rhythm with his hips, the way your eyes were rolling back and the way his cock felt inside you, fully covered in your slick, both your lower halves sticky messes. He was ready to fall apart completely, and ready to help you reach your own. “You look so fucking good taking my dick like this, babygirl. It’s so big, isn’t it? But you just take it so good, yeah? My good, good girl with her perfect fucking pussy, taking that cock so well.” He reached his fingers down to roll his thumb lazily against your clit, ever so gently, but enough to make you fall apart. Your eyes rolled back as you gasped out for him. 

“Please, M- Maaaat…” 

“Oh, you- you want it, don’t you?” Mat’s words were getting shaky, his sentences choppy. He was so close, so close his mind couldn’t comprehend anything beyond just fucking letting go. “Want your boyfriend’s hot cum filling you up, just flooding that- ugh, that tight little cunt, yeah? My balls emptied inside you? You want that nut so bad, you’re so desperate for it, huh? Tell me, baby. Tell me how you want the love of your life to just… fucking f- flood your pussy.”

“I want it, Mat, I want you to cum, baby.” 

His thrusts became erratic, his hand leaving bruises on your thigh and his thumb absolutely torturing your swollen, sensitive clit. He was getting desperate, too. “Where? Where do you want my big fucking load?”

“Cum inside, fuck, fuck, please, Maty-”

“Ohh, gonna fucking nut inside you, babygirl-”  

“I’m gonna cuuuum, Mat…” 

“Ohhhh, fuuuuuck, oh, oh (Y/N)...!” Mat let out a long, strangled moan, his voice shaking and whiny and breathless in exasperation. His hips stuttered and his thighs trembled beneath him as he nearly collapsed onto you, absolutely flooding your aching, spasming hole with his cum. Your mind went fuzzy and white when you finally felt his stitches come loose, and he finally emptied all of himself- all his hot, gooey warmth- inside of your throbbing cunt. And flood, he did. It felt like the thick ropes of cum were never ending, filling you to the brim, until finally, he was done, his eyes squeezed shut and hair falling into his eyes above you.

Forming sentences would be a miracle at this point, but you reached up to curl a finger around Mat’s chain and yank him down to your face, ushering him to collapse against your body. And he did, eyes glancing open for a moment and lips locking with yours, always thankful to be able to fall onto you after a hard day, after absolutely spending himself. He groaned against your lips and buried his face against your neck, panting against your skin and kissing your neck and breathing in your scent as your hand found it’s rightful place at the back of his neck.  After a few moments of stillness, he reached down lazily and let his cock slip out of you, both of you whining and the loss of contact, and you felt a familiar wetness on your tummy as his cum dribbled down the head of his spent cock to fall on your warm skin. 

You were silent, panting for a few minutes, just letting your heartbeats steady back to normal and your heads to recover from the dizzying orgasms. Then, a breathless chuckle vibrated through Mat’s chest and into you. “Merry fucking Christmas to us, right?” 

“I think that was the hottest thing we’ve ever done, Mat.” Mat hummed in agreement, squeezing you between his arms. “Now you see why we couldn’t do this at your parent’s place?”

“I mean… what’s stopping us?” 

“Mat, I know for a fact you can’t keep quiet enough to fuck in your parent’s house.”

“Says the one who was just screaming my name.”

“As if you weren’t moaning mine just as loud.”

“Hmm.” Mat laughed again at the banter, the playful back and forth, and rolled to the side, his back to the back of the couch, and pulled you against his side. “How do you feel, anyway? About… me coming inside? Still feel good about it? Wasn’t too much?”

“No way. I really… really enjoyed that. Everything about that. A lot.” 

“Mm, that’s good. So did I.” 

“But… I kiiiiiinda feel like we should clean up. It’s starting to feel… sticky, like, everywhere. And not a good sticky.” 

“Yeah, how about we take a bath together? A nice warm bath in the lights of the pretty Christmas lights you love so much? How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like heaven, Mat.”

So Mat scooped you up in his arms, his own legs weak and shaky after an unbelievable orgasm, and he pressed kisses against your cheeks as he carried you through your brand new home, lit in the pretty pinks and gold of the Christmas lights, stopping before the bathroom door only momentarily to ponder on the beginning of the rest of his forever with you. This truly might be the beginning of the best years of his life. The beginning of an even more serious relationship with you. He felt your fingers playing with the chain that still hung around his neck, the one the guys teased him about the charm on the end, but the one he always wore for you, and he glanced down, his eyes warm and contemplative as he searched yours. This. This was eternal love.

“I love you, babe. Always.” His heart felt dipped in syrup when you smiled up at him with that soul melting look. Yep. You’re it for me.

“I love you, bubs. Always.”

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker - No more fondue on my watch

This got a little out of hand... Hope you like it @peterwandaparker​​!

Plot: Peter and you have been together for a while now, but nothing can go past Captain America eagle’s eyes.

Warnings (or notes): SMUT or nearly smut, but there is a dick. And this is Peter Parker x Rogers!reader. Let’s be honest, there is a bit of Stony

You bit your lip, uncrossing your legs and doing it again just by pure nervousness. Or boredom, that worked too. There was a ray of sun that had moved since you had arrived the length of the table. If you fixed your eyes there for a long time, just like you had been doing, you could see it moving; and it was the most entertaining thing you had done since you had woken up. And you had woken up really, really early.

But that’s what you got when you lived in another district, you wanted to look presentable for him, and your father was Captain America, who could have a heart attack if you were late once more. Who wasn’t as punctual as your father was Tony, the engineer who still was in his lab for sure.

You weren’t uncomfortable in the tower, but you had places to be instead of the living room. Like, your boyfriend’s room.

“Hey dad” you tried.

Steve was wearing what you called ‘I’m gonna meet my crush’ attire. Tight grey shirt, black jeans and a fairly big amount of hair gel. He was reading a book of his list of ‘things I missed under ice’, which in your opinion was too long and boring. But he insisted in completing it, maybe just for the sake of Tony, who wrote it.

He raised a brow at you, his eyes not leaving the book but letting you know that he was aware. You coughed to make you sound as casual as possible, because sneaking out on Captain America wasn’t easy.

“How… much longer?”

“I don’t know” he gave you the same answer for the fifth time. “Whenever Tony finishes what he’s doing. It’s not like you have anything better to do, Y/N”

You bit your remark about your plans; any plan, actually, was better than waiting in the compound in silence since seven in the morning.

“But I’m hungry” you said, and Steve raised his head finally. You contained the proud smirk.

“Didn’t you have breakfast at your mother’s?”

Steve Rogers was a man of a diet. He didn’t have chocolate, sweets, fried stuff or anything that could be bad for health, and he forced anyone who lived with him to have 5 meals per day. The thing was that you were still a minor, and you didn’t always live with him.

Your mother and Steve didn’t have the perfect relationship, you could say. They were both wonderful people, but too stubborn to get along. So it pained you to lie about her, but that was the only way to get around your dad.

“Not really, since you woke me up at five” you almost barked, still hurt that he had blasted your phone away. “But mom wasn’t awake and there was no milk”

“I can’t believe that’s how she raise a child” Steve tightened his jaw. “What’s next? Telling me you had pizza for dinner?”

With extra cheese, actually

“No, dad” you lied again, salivating at the thought of pizza. “Can I eat something or should I starve to death?”

Steve was quiet for a while. He was against every type of snack; and if he ever pardoned one, was that tasteless rice pancake without fats, sugar or salt. It felt like eating cotton. He looked at the clock of his wrist, and sighed, going back to reading the book.

“Try not to raze Tony’s pantry, please” he gave up. “And don’t eat anything that has … just try to avoid eating Nutella from the jar”

You chuckled and hoped off the sofa, speeding to the kitchen. Closing the door behind you, you marvelled at the huge space in front of you. It was probably bigger than your father’s and mother’s apartment. Without wasting another beat, you walked to the fridge and enjoyed the opportunity of the free card of food.

The fridge was full of things that you couldn’t even name, but you were more than aware that that’s who Tony was. You contented yourself with a ham and turkey sandwich. Knowing you weren’t going to go back to your father, you made another one and reached for the bag of chips in the top counter.  

You were just putting everything in the tray along with two juices when your phone sounded.

Petey-pie [9:39]: i’m getting up early 4 u

Petey-pie [9:39]: hurt not to wake up by u smashing a pillow on my head

Petey-pie [9:39]: where are u

You sent a quick reply, telling him to stop being so needy and that you would be there in a minute. His room was on the other side of the compound, so you weren’t worried about running into your father; besides, luck seemed to smile at you, because you heard Tony’s voice from the living room greeting him.

And you knew that Tony was enough to keep your father busy for a few hours; after all, he didn’t put the ‘I’m gonna meet my crush’ attire for nothing.

You picked up the tray and tiptoed toward the other end of the kitchen, where the door for the main hallway was. You ran past your ‘room’, the one you used when Steve went on a mission with the Avengers and didn’t want you to stay alone, or with your mother. That he wasn’t living there anymore didn’t mean he wasn’t a part of the team, much to your mother dislike.

There weren’t many things there, but you quickly changed from your boots to soft padded socks with small cute bears decorating. Once you were comfortable enough to spend the whole morning there, you closed the door of your room and skipped to his.

Peter wasn’t facing you when you opened the door, but rather looking out of the window daydreaming. He turned around once you were in, and gave you the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. He still had his eyes swollen by sleep, and his pyjamas were on. But he seemed awake enough to pick up the tray from your hands and set it aside, cornering you in the bathroom’s door and locking your lips.

You smiled into the kiss and raised your hand behind his neck. Peter’s room smelt a lot like Axe, a bad habit in your opinion that he had gotten from his dad mentor. The window was half open and his bed was still undone, which gave you a sense of home that you hadn’t felt in a while.

Peter’s lips against yours weren’t nice, but demanding. He pressed himself against your body and cradled your head with his hand, tilting it so that he had better access. When you ran out of air, he teared away and looked at you with a lovestruck gaze.

“Hi” you managed to say, out of breath. It came out a little high-pitched.

“I missed you” he whined, and pouted like a puppy. Your heard literally broke with his look, so you leaned forward and kissed him again.

The spring break was hard for everyone. There was no highschool, and even if it was good news for every teenager, for you wasn’t. It meant you couldn’t see Peter every day, that you lived with your mother during the week, and that you could only sneak around your father some weekends. Peter was probably who felt it the worse, since he was a rather clingy boy, and had made it known in the three months you had been together.

Peter broke away to keep pressing kissing on your cheek, nose and forehead. They were light kisses, so fast that you ended up giggling and tossing between his arms. When he felt like he could let you go, he gave you a final peck and stepped back.

“Breakfast in bed” he said, giving a side glance to the trail of food. “Is it any special service?”

“Only for the best” you chuckled, and walked to the bed.

Peter’s bed was probably the softest one. When him and May had moved over, Tony had made sure he spoiled Peter rotten. With May’s help, they bought him the comfiest cushion, the nerdiest stuff and the best computer. He didn’t accept half of it, but the bed was different. You let yourself be drowned in it, pale blue sheets surrounding you and making you feel like in a cloud. You closed your eyes and rested your head on his pillow, that smelt like him and made it ten times better.

He followed you close, and you felt the bed dipping under his weight. Slowly, he crawled until his head was resting in the space between your neck and shoulder, and you could caress his hair. His body was covering yours, and when Peter threw the covers over the both if you, it felt like you were in your own perfect little world.

The tray laid forgotten on the desk as Peter curled into a ball by your side, hugging your body as if it was his personal pillow. He tangled your legs together and intertwined his fingers with yours. When he was comfortable enough, he talked, and his hot breath hit the side of your face.

“I missed you” he repeated.

“I missed you too” you answered, turning your head so that your noses were touching.

“You know what I missed the most?” Peter asked, and by the smirk on his face, you knew that shy-Peter wasn’t making an appearance. “This”

Peter’s hand rested on your bare belly, and from there he kept going down. He was met with the hem of your trousers, a baggy sweaters that you had snitched from your mom before leaving that morning. Peter’s skilled fingers started undoing the knot of the front, and his body rocked against yours slowly.

“I hope you know what you’re doing” you teased.

By any answer, Peter shifted so that he was hovering over you, his hand still placed between your bodies and his eyes boring into you with burning love. He gave you a lazy, lopsided smirk and finished with the knot of your trousers.

He didn’t bother in tugging them down, but sneaked his hand down and his thumb touched the lace of your panties. He didn’t have to look to know they were the purple one, because he knew your wardrobe by heart; and because with the spider bite, came a constant flood of teenager’s hormones.

Your skin was soft and warm against his finger’s pad, and he gifted you with a soft grunt that made you clench your thighs and trap his hand in between. Peter chuckled.

“I don’t think I can stand another two weeks without seeing you” Peter said.

“Let’s just enjoy the moment”

And that’s exactly what you did.

Peter kicked off the covers and let his lips be lost against your neck. They nipped, kissed, licked and bit your whole neck, never leaving any mark but testing your limits. He knew where to touch you to make those noise, and he spent his time there. His hot breath hoovering over you was enough to make you come on your panties.

But he didn’t have enough, so he ended up tugging your pants down and off the bed and letting his hand be lost in your pussy. He ran one lazy finger up and down your lips, parting them and creating a delicious friction against your clit.

“Peter – Peter, oh – wait – stop, Peter!” you cried out an pushed his hand away.

Peter’s eyes almost got out of their socket and you saw panic filling his features. He was off you in a second, and what a sight. His hair was messy from tugging too much, t-shirt gone and pyjamas pants holding a tent of its own. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes, begging to yourself to last a big longer.

“Get inside” you moaned, opening your legs again. “Please – please, I need – I need –“

You hadn’t seen Peter move so fast in his life. He was standing in front of you when you blinked, fighting with his pants and boxers at the same time. His erection bobbed up and down until it almost touched his stomach, and you were sure he was as turned on as you.

You were about to take off your t-shirt and mount him yourself when the door was kicked open and both Peter and you screamed.

“Y/N!”

“Peter!”

“Dad!”

“Mr. Stark!”

You didn’t think the mood after not seeing your boyfriend for two weeks could go down so fast, but it did when a very flushed Tony Stark and a totally mortified Steve Rogers opened the door of Peter’s room. You covered yourself the best that you could with Peter’s sheets, and he took the pillow to hide his dick.

“What the hell were you doing?!” Steve screamed, and you had to remind yourself that it wasn’t a good moment to say ‘language’. “What – why are you – Y/N Rogers, you’re so grounded!”

Your father’s face was as red as his shield, only discerning from an apple by the blue and white of his eyes. Tony’s shock seemed to be wearing off, and he was simply leaning against a the wall with a hand covering his evident smile.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking, dad?” you asked, your voice still too high for your liking. “You can’t just burst into someone’s room”

“I can’t – I can’t?!” wrong answer, you guessed. “You can’t do… that! And with him!”

“Mr. Rogers, I – “ Peter tried to talk.

“Shut up” Steve growled, and Peter’s Adam apple bobbed up and down. “Listen to me, you end this right now. And don’t ever expect to see him again.”

“What?!” you let the sheets fall to your lap, exposing your thankfully still covered front. “You can’t do that!”

“You don’t get to say what I can and can’t do!”

“Steve –“ Tony tried.

“I can! You only see me on weekends, I live with mom! You can’t say who I can and I can’t see!”

“Then maybe you will come and live with me” Steve said, and your jaw dropped. “Get dressed. I’ll – “

“Just because mom and you don’t love each other anymore doesn’t mean I can’t love someone!” you screamed out.

The room got silent, and Steve actually paled. The thing about him was that he wasn’t a bad father at all. Your mother had thrown you at him when you were younger, and even if she loved you, you knew that most of the arguments came because she loved to make his life impossible. Steve was patient, loving, funny and cared for you like no one.

But he was also afraid. Afraid of you going to parties, afraid of you getting a sleepover, and afraid of you having a boyfriend. The man had lost so much, that it terrified him that he could lose you too.

For the first time since he had heard the noises in Peter’s room, he got to finally look at you. You had tears in your eyes, your cheeks red and your lips pursed as if when you were going to cry. He knew what a bratty teenager was, and what he saw in your eyes wasn’t the tantrum you throw sometimes when he didn’t let you go somewhere.

He looked at Peter, then. The boy looked even more devastated than you. With just a pillow covering his lower half, Peter was chewing on his lip and looking at Steve lacking all the respect he always had. There was only desperation, and Steve felt bad.

“It’s not about that” Steve whispered, and sighed. Even if he didn’t age like normal people, he felt like greys hair coming out. “How… for how long, you know? This?”

“Three months” you whispered back, and a tear rolled down your cheek. You quickly caught it with your finger, and rubbed a furious fist against your eye.

Steve slumped against the wall, and closed his eyes tightly. There was a headache coming his way, and at full speed. His daughter with Tony’s son protegee, his daughter doing… that with Peter, and his daughter growing up and him being left behind.

“Just – just be careful” Steve made a small grimace and coughed it away. “Say goodbye, we’re leaving. And please… next time lock the door, Parker”

You knew you had to talk about it with your father, that he wasn’t done, but for the moment, he muttered a quick goodbye and left the room. You felt like your heart was beating again. Tony had a smug smile on his face, and rose up from his leaning position too.

“And here I thought you didn’t bring girls home because you were a shy boy” Tony teased, and Peter felt like dying. “We’re talking about this later too, Pete”

With that, Tony left and the door was left ajar behind him. It was silent for a while, until Peter’s knees gave away and he sat beside you in the bed. The pillow fell to the ground and he put his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands. The decision of not saying anything was for the sake of your father, because you wanted to wait until he had everything figured with his feelings for Tony in case he felt obligated to stay away for you.

You raised a hand and placed it on Peter’s shoulder, and you swore he gave a small relief sob. Your suspicious were proven when he finally said something.

“I can’t believe that just happened” he whispered. “I thought I was gonna die”

“We’re not off the hook yet” you joked, and kneeling in bed, pressed a small kiss to his neck. “But for now we’re okay”

“Yeah”

Peter gripped your hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He looked at you sideways, and attempted to smile. It was shaky and hesitant, but it was enough for you. Even if you hadn’t been dating for long, you had known the boy for your whole life, and you didn’t want to think what to do without him.

“I should get going” you muttered, and crawled out of bed. “I don’t want him any angrier”

Peter stood up too, and even if the mood had been killed and felt more like throwing himself off a window, he pressed his lips against yours one last time. Not a second after you had moved your hand to cradle his cheek, a barking voice came from the hallway.

“No more fondue when I’m around!”

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[issa-me-addy]

It Still Hurts (Peter Parker x Reader)

okay so i saw this gifset here and the quote from the movie [Happy: I thought you had super strength. // Peter: It still hurts. ] and INSPIRATION STRUCK, again i bet this concept has been done before but i cannot hold back i must write about this so here is my sad petey x reader one shot please enjoy 

WARNINGS: angst?, cursing, talk of blood/stitching, crying and generally just a really sad piece i have no reason for this i just couldn’t get the concept out my mind 

Word count: 1725

It was getting late. Very late, even for Peter and you were growing very concerned. He told May that he was going to stay at the Tower with Happy after a simple arms deal bust he was assigned to do with Sam and Bucky out at the shipyard. So of course, the two of you arranged that he’d come in through your fire escape to spend the night instead. To your disbelief though, he was late. 

In general, when the two of you made these kinds of plans he would be in your window at three the latest but it was pushing near four in the morning and you were growing more and more anxious by the second. 

As the clock hit 4:30, Peter’s hand hit your window. 

You opened it up quickly, the dim light of your TV the only thing illuminating your room. He shuffled in, leaning heavily on you, panting and wincing with every rough step towards your bed. 

“What the fuck happened Peter?” You asked, genuinely curious, releasing your hold on his elbow as he sat down on the corner of your bed. His body fell forward as he leaned his forearms onto his knees and allowed his head to swing between his shoulders. 

“I was wearing the old suit. I left the new one in the lab because I coded some new stuff for it and I’ve been putting off this last update. I thought I would be fine since it was an easy mission, plus Wanda came out with us but these guys had some punch to ‘em.” Peter explained as you stood in front of him, slowly moving his head and arms around to check for anything that needed special attention. When you lifted his right arm he winced. 

You nodded, allowing him to continue explaining what went down at the docks. You shuffled through your closet until you found your old med kit, humming softly every now and then to let him know you were still listening. 

The kit had some dust from sitting at the very back of the shelf and not being touched for over a year since Peter had joined forces with the Avengers. With the major suit upgrade and the med team at the tower, he never had to sneak in through your window at night to get patched up anymore, which begged the question that you could no longer hold back. 

“Pete, why didn’t you go back to the tower to get patched up?” You asked. 

“I didn’t want to go to the tower, they would have made me stay there,” he explained. “And I really wanted to see you. I got my ass handed to me, babe. It sucked.” 

You turned on the lamp that sat atop the small table by your bed and sat to Pete’s right, examining the cut just above his right shoulder blade. He was going to need a few stitches. 

“I can see that,” You joked, opening up the kit and prepping your needle. “Take the suit off, I need to clean this up. It’s gonna be at least four stitches.” 

He obliged, hissing as he peeled off the top and letting it drop into his lap. “I always hated stitches.” 

“I know, but it’s gotta happen,” you explained, gently wiping the gash with alcohol and wincing alongside his reactions. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for the blood, for making you do this.” 

You shake your head despite the fact that he has his back to you. “It’s fine,” you reply. “I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t wanna get patched up by the nurse at the tower. She even gives lollipops afterwards.” 

He lets out a sharp chuckle. “Yeah Nurse Katherine’s great at fixing me up, sure, but I really didn’t want to sleep alone tonight.” 

You hum in reply as you prep your needle. “Okay, Pete, I’m gonna start the stitches.” 

Peter nods his head and remembers not to talk while you do these stitches. 

Up until high school, the only stitches you knew were the kind you did to patch up the pits of your t-shirts and to put little flowers in your denim jacket. Then, in your freshman year, your cousin had busted his forearm open at the skatepark and you were the only person in the entire family with a steady hand. That night you learned how to stitch a man up. After you told Peter that story though, he started showing up on your fire escape with cuts, scrapes and bruises galore. 

Although it had been over a year since you’d last done this though, Peter had given you a lot of practice and you were back in your groove very quickly. 

Despite this, you heard soft cries coming from the broad body in front of you. 

“I thought you had super strength,” you attempted to make fun, pulling through your third stitch. 

“It still hurts,” he replied, his voice raspy and low. 

In your heart you knew he wasn’t talking about the stitches. You’ve stitched up a gouge much worse on his calf after he got caught up with a girl who really loved her knives, and he didn’t even complain. That night it was eight stitches and not a peep from him.

You finished the rest of the stitches in silence. After wiping up the rest of the blood smeared on his body, you cleaned up the skin around the suture and placed a large cotton pad atop it, securing that in place and hoping that he didn’t get blood on your bed sheets again. 

You packed away your med pack and grabbed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from the collection of clothes you’d stolen from Peter in the last year or so that you guys have been together. 

“Thank you,” he said, pulling his suit off and climbing into his sweats. 

His eyes were still red and puffy, the only sounds filling the room were random sniffles and the sound of you sorting out the bed for the two of you to sleep. 

“Are you okay, Pete?” You asked, sitting up on the left side of the bed, the comforter pulled up in your lap. 

He pulled the shirt on over his head and pulled the blanket off your lap and settled himself in between your legs, his back pressed up against you, and pulling your arms around his shoulders. 

Before you could piece words together to react, soft sobs filled the room. 

A minute passed and you pulled him closer to you, pressing soft kisses to the crown of his head and running your thumb up and down his forearm. 

His breathing finally slowed. “I miss him so much.” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek thinking of something to say. 

You knew well enough he was talking about Tony. Ever since Tony died, Peter’s been off his game. Even with the Stark tech, he was getting pretty hurt at every single mission. He wasn’t sleeping as much and if you managed to catch him in between tasks, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. 

“I know,” you reply. “I’m sorry, Peter.” 

You can’t think of anything else to do but squeeze him a little tighter. 

“I just-- it still hurts. It’s been months and it still hurts. I miss him. I don’t like the world without Tony Stark. It’s scarier. Even I’m scared all the time. I can’t focus on missions, and that means I’m putting people in danger,” he stops to breathe, pulling your arms a little closer to his chest. “and I’m just so tired of watching good men die at the hands of selfish people.” 

You sit and listen and feel your heart ache at the sight and sound of nothing but a boy in pain, mourning the loss of someone he loved so dearly, and there’s not much else you can do but hold him close, listen and be there for him.

“I know. It’s not fair. There’s nothing fair about it.” 

“I want Tony back.” 

The two of you sit there for a while longer, Pete’s sniffles filling the air. Eventually they stop and he unwraps your arms from around him and the two of you lie down. 

You end up on your back with Peter’s head resting on your chest, slowly breathing in your scent. His arms snake around your middle and you know he’s going to be insistent on holding you like this for the rest of the night, so you try to get comfy. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you rake through them over and over and over again, hoping that he’ll fall asleep soon. 

He doesn’t. 

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” he asked, his voice soft and quiet. 

“I think New York can only be so bad with a guy like Spiderman defending it,” you mutter back, pressing another kiss to his forehead. 

“I don’t think I can fill Mr. Stark’s shoes, y/n.” 

“I think you can. He picked you, Peter.” 

“But he was Iron Man, he was always there when the world needed saving.” 

“I don’t think he would have done what he did if he didn’t think that you could help take care of the world for him.” 

He didn’t respond, but you felt him hold his breath, so you continued. 

“And you’re not alone Pete. He gave you a family with the Avengers and he believed in you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I believe in you.” 

You smoothed his hair back before tangling your fingers with the bunch at the nape of his neck. The two of you lied awake for nearly another hour, not speaking, just holding each other. 

You held this boy in your arms, desperate to protect him from anymore loss and grief. This boy who had a huge heart and nothing but a yearn to protect the ones around him. This boy who was one of the people responsible for saving the universe. 

And Peter held his number one reason for continuing to fight the good fight. That night, as you held him and his chest filled with an ache only you could soothe, he made a promise to himself that he would protect the world with every bit of him, so long as you were in it. 

[toledoendo]

Resetting the Bone - Part Five

A/N: trigger warning: self harm

Tony left the wheelbarrow by the fire pit. His back was nagging at him. Time to act old, now that nobody was looking. There was only so much physical therapy could restore after the Reversal. Tony sighed, but wasn’t unhappy. Peter had picked up more than his side of the yard and both pretended not to notice. Such a gracious kid, Tony thought with an affection that ached.

No matter how much he grew, how much he stood like a man, or how his face matured, Tony continued to think of Peter as his kid. Small frame, nervous tics, an exuberance that no one could keep up with— the whole deal. He wasn’t trying to discredit Peter’s adulthood or anything... He guessed it was just natural.

Tony thought about being young. He thought about himself as a young man, Peter’s age. He saw himself walking around wearing any old t-shirt from the thrift shop. It was his favorite way to piss off his father. Howard was so scared of losing control over Tony.

Ratty clothes and drinking canned soda, for whatever reason, irked Howard. Tony remembered getting a burning nostril full of Pepsi-Cola one visit home. He’d said some smart ass thing along the lines of: “dress for the job you want” and Howard knocked the can he was drinking into his nose.

Control. Tony scoffed. He had fallen into that trap. 

When he first learned Peter was cutting, back when Peter was truly a kid, just fifteen, Tony’s entire nervous system had seized up and then threw itself into overdrive. Embarrassment twinged in his stomach at the thought of how overreactive he’d been with Peter; he was pretty sure some of his first words were, “You can’t do that!” 

He removed all tools with sharp edges from the Compound. The Spider-Drone was coded with a new protocol to log the presence of unsafe objects in Peter’s possession. Meanwhile, Peter withdrew and agonized in hiding more. May had to teach him how to respond calmly— instead of, you know, like the human equivalent of a shaken beer can, erupting at the slightest increase in pressure.

May was incredible. Parent of the Year, no contest. Tony didn’t realize parents like her existed. He remembered watching her kiss Peter’s hair while the boy shook in her arms; he was impressed and even inspired. How did she learn to convert her concern into affection? His only resembled anger.

The kid had shrieked at Tony, begged him not to tell May. “Please— Please! You don’t understand!— I won’t do it anymore!” Peter had clutched at the air around him, the large sleeves of the sweatshirt he was wearing practically flapping around his body as he gestured his desperation. “I promise—“ he gasped, “Please, I promise.”

There was a knot in Tony’s throat as he watched Peter plead. Rhodey had to step in, speaking lowly and gingerly. “Pete,” Rhodey said, “your aunt loves you and I think she needs to know.”

Peter crumbled. “Colonel Rhodes… Mr. Stark…” he whimpered. His hands gripped his skull. Tony had never seen him like this. Rhodey gently stopped Tony from grabbing Peter’s hands, which were tearing at his hair. “You can’t tell her… she’ll… you don’t understand.”

“Everything’s going to be okay, kid.” Rhodey said. “We all just want to do our jobs to keep you safe.”

Rhodey had claimed he wasn’t an expert, but he was in a hell of a different league than Tony, who at that moment, was obsessing over the image of Peter, dead in a closet or a bathtub, like the films always depicted. 

He was stricken with helplessness. He just could not comprehend what Peter was doing. It scared the shit out of him. It would always scare him to think about a knife held to his kid’s skin. Even more frightening was that he had no clue how to deflect the hand that held it, because it was Peter’s hand.

Tony reached the lemonade stand and decided to move it more toward the driveway. Got to keep up the illusion that anybody might stroll by and ask for a glass. Tony braced his knees and hefted the stand, resting half on his abdomen, balancing the other half on his legs. Awkwardly, he sidled around the corner of the house.

Tap, tap, tap. Tony turned to the kitchen window, where Peter was rapping from inside. Peter tilted the pane open and called out to him.

“Are you kidding me? I could have moved that.” Peter’s admonishing tone was playful. But, Tony knew he was serious. He had a long-handled spoon in his right hand, sleeve pushed to his biceps, apparently on mixing duty. The cuff of his left sleeve was still dangling on the wrist. The contrast of exposed and non-exposed arms was noticeable; Tony didn’t mean to stare. “Put it down and I’ll take care of it.”

“I tell you what, young buck...” Tony shouted back. He quickly shuffled toward his goal, wheezing a little. “If I’m still here by the time you make it out, you can carry it to the—“

Peter jumped from the porch railing before he could finish, having dashed through the kitchen. From his landing point, he sprinted a few steps and was standing in front of Tony in a second. He took the lemonade stand firmly from both sides. His laugh was like a breeze, light and breathy. Tony’s entire chest lifted at the sound; it had been so long. 

“You’re ridiculous.” Peter said.

“Excuse me, who just turned my kitchen into the 30 Meter Hurdles?” Tony watched Peter walk away with the stand. He placed his hands on his mid back and stretched it backwards.

From the kitchen window came another voice. “Petey’s so fast!” Morgan’s little face was pressed against the screen.

Tony grinned at her in answer. Pepper appeared and shot a disapproving look. She mouthed the words: “Are you okay?” He straightened and returned a thumbs up, to which Pepper twisted her lips and moved away from the window.

“Where would you like this, Tony?” Peter asked. He had set the lemonade stand in front of the porch.

“That’s good, that’s good.” Tony walked to him. “Thanks, bud.”

Peter stood looking at Tony, words in his mouth, but not speaking. Carrying the stand had pushed up his left sleeve onto his forearm. Tony saw the little Hello Kitty Band-Aid planted on his wrist. He was struck by the amount of love that Peter held for Morgan. For others in general. The kid wrung himself out for everybody else; it scared Tony how exhausted he must be. If he’d just let anyone love him back… But who was he to talk?

Peter spoke then. It was a simple phrase, but Tony knew the significance. “Thank you for having me.”

“This is your home, anytime.” Tony said. He reached out and put an arm around Peter’s shoulders. They walked together up the porch steps. “I mean, it’s not like you haven't eaten my food and worn my clothes and fallen asleep on my furniture for years.”

Peter grinned. He opened the front door, turning to Tony. “Pepper offered to make lemon bars as a treat. Morgan is convinced that we don’t have enough lemons for anything but lemonade. We could sure use another player on Team Dessert.”

“Be right there.” Tony chuckled. Peter went inside. Slowly, Tony lowered himself into one of the porch chairs. His back thanked him instantly.

Tony thought of Peter’s face, fifteen, haloed in digital light. His curls blended into the color of his cheeks. His eyelashes were softened with sleep. The 1 a.m. television glow was unusual at the Avengers Compound and Tony had strode into the living area to investigate. Peter was asleep on one of the couches. 

He’d been sent from the lab an hour ago to go to bed. “If you want May to let you do this from time to time, I have to look like a responsible guardian” had been Tony’s argument. This wasn’t what he had meant. 

Rhodey sat reading on the chair next Peter.

“Why are you watching Jurassic Park on mute?” Tony asked.

Rhodey shrugged and closed his book, keeping a finger on the page. “Was watching it with the kid, but he fell asleep.”

Tony stepped around the couch for a better look. Peter was folded up so that he looked very small. His curled hands were laying limply in front of his face. The sweatshirt he was wearing puffed up around his neck and shoulder. Before, Tony may have joked offhandedly, but he stood a moment longer and looked at him. 

At some point, as he’d spent more time with the boy, his admiration of Peter’s ingenuity had turned into fondness. His commitment to Peter’s success and safety had become affection. Not that he admitted it to himself. He just shook his head and smirked.

Turning his attention back to Rhodey, he made a show of cocking his head. “Why is he wearing my shirt?”

“I gave it to him.” Rhodey deadpanned. When Tony gestured dramatically, he added: “He said he was cold.”

“Kind of you, Mother Rhodes.”

“Wake him up and take it. I dare you.”

Tony snorted a bit, recalling that exchange. Never could fool Rhodey, even when he could fool himself. He swiveled his watch face and absently texted a message to his friend. It read:  “Remember when you taught me how to tie a necktie?”

No, there was no fooling Rhodey.

That night in the Compound, as Peter slept on the couch and computer-generated dinosaurs roared silently on the screen before him, Rhodey leaned forward and said, “Tony, I wanted to talk to you.” He instantly commanded Tony’s attention.

“You know I live for the smokey sound of your voice.” Tony said.

“It’s about Peter.”

Then Rhodes hesitated and Tony’s stomach fell.

Tony, true to his insecurity, deflected. “Don’t worry, he sleeps like he’s in cryostasis. Back in Berlin, he fell asleep in the car, right? Traffic was murder— Happy was cursing at other drivers, in German— our car got rear-ended... kid didn’t stir.”

Rhodey relented. “I think he’s hurting himself.”

Tony was silent. He attempted flippancy one last time. “Sounds like him. Pretty clumsy for having superhuman reflexes.”

“Earlier, I noticed some cuts on his side.” Rhodey persisted. “When he was pulling on your sweatshirt, he somehow got it twisted up and his t-shirt rose. They’re pretty bad.”

Tony’s voice drained away. He’d noticed the kid was having a hard time focusing. He was more inward, too. Shit, Happy had even said that the kid seemed off. 

That was what this weekend at the Compound was about. Tony thought if he could let Peter geek out around the the lab, or wander star-struck through the Compound, it would cheer up the moody teen. Nobody would have trusted him with Pete if they’d thought anything was actually wrong. And, he didn’t seem depressed exactly, just more... uncoordinated than usual.

He remembered pushing back at Rhodey’s concern. “Couldn’t they be from patrol?” But, Rhodey’s expression had no give. He wore his concern in such a dignified way. Tony admired it, even as he prepared to bolt from his chair, pace the floor, and possibly dismantle any machinery nearby.

Tony’s watch buzzed; he was pulled from his memories. The text read: “Are you serious, texting me with this right now? I’m busy.” Tony scoffed softly.

He sniffed and answered: “Sorry, Mr. President. Or, Secret Service Agent managing Honey Bear's phone. Never can tell these days…”

Tony thought of himself as a twenty-year-old again. He thought about all the ways he had tried to shape his pain until it looked like something else— something acceptable, easier to take. Drinking, partying, sex, manic spending, deliberately pissing off any authoritative male who looked at him... Maladaptive was the word Rhodey liked to invoke when he was preaching at Tony. His responses to stress, anger, or whatever, were maladaptive. Rhodey was such a pill sometimes.

Tony’s watch lit up again. Rhodey texted: “I remember when you lied and said you didn’t know how to tie one and I showed you. Then found out you’d been tying ties since you were seven.”

But Rhodey was right. It had taken Tony a hell of a long time to “adapt.” A long time before he didn’t feel the black eye Howard had given him when he was seventeen. Before he realized that he didn’t need to try to match his voice to anyone else’s to be heard. If anything, he was screaming at people. A long time before he trusted himself to make healthy decisions.

“It helped me get to my father’s funeral.” Tony sent back and relaxed a little in the chair.

Peter had chosen a different shape for his pain. And he wore it on his body. It was hard to look at, because Tony loved Peter, but somehow Tony learned to trust Peter with his own sadness while somehow supporting his self-care. Funny enough, as Tony became more secure, less reactive toward Peter, the kid began to open up. Peter told him little things every now and then. He asked for help with breathing or mindfulness exercises. He let Tony know when he was alone and felt the urge to harm. Whenever Tony saw that look of reliance, fear would grip him again. But he swallowed it and pushed forward for the kid’s sake.

Rhodey had told him that night: “Peter trusts you. There is no perfect speech that’s going to fix this-- but there sure the hell is a wrong tone of voice.” Rhodey held his gaze. “Just from experience, don’t corner him, okay?”

Rhodey‘s text message came through: “What’s got you thinking about that?” Then, immediately: “How’s the kid? Is he there this weekend?”

Tony answered: “Yeah. He’s putting in the hours. You know how it is.”

There was a pause before Rhodey answered. It said: “Peter is a great kid. He’ll be the best of us all one day. I’ve always said that.”

Tony smiled to himself. There was no doubt about that. Peter was a force to be reckoned with and Tony was so proud. Even when Peter couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel it in himself, he was a resilient, loving young man.

Rhodey: “Call me anytime. Really.”

Tony: “Will do, Boo. Kiss the Chief Justice for me.”

Tony stood and entered the lakehouse door. It was time to lend his support to Team Dessert. The sound of his family reminded him of his own recovery. Everyone was going to be okay.

[spongeekat]

The 6 Times Peter Wanted To Reveal his Identity (And the 1 Time He Did) Chapter 5

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Day 5 - Thursday

From the moment Peter opened his eyes something felt quite off.

The day had started rather normally; his vintage alarm clock blared obnoxiously on his nightstand, the sound muted by a blanket of dust that had accumulated on the speaker. His curtains were drawn, giving the room a bluish tint as they did a terrible job at filtering the sun out, and he had eventually rolled out of bed once he couldn’t stand the way the volume of New York traffic attacked his eardrums any longer.

 From there he’d gone to get dressed, realized he had nothing clean, and threw his pile of dirty clothes in the washer, then proceeded to clear out piles of take-out containers and dishes from the sink to make the apartment look somewhat tidy for when Aunt May returned. Wade had texted him the night before, promising to pick him up around 10 AM. Peter felt uneasy about accepting the invitation, but he’d eventually come around to the idea once Ellie started leaving voicemails on his phone demanding he come. He couldn’t exactly deny her, especially when the child was threatening to blackmail him. It may have been intended as a joke, but he wouldn’t put it past any offspring of Deadpool to do.

Despite his attempt at being productive, he had been unable to shake the heavy ball of dread parked in his stomach. There were a number of issues that could be the source, from the issue of Aunt May coming home to a messy apartment, to his secret that he was withholding from Wade, to the anticipation of their local news channels ripping him apart for what had occured in the city, yet it didn’t seem like any of that was causing the anxiety he had woken up with. It felt more like an instinct warning him that he should just go back to bed for the day. But he decided he couldn’t blow Wade off again , so he pushed the fear down and shoved his suit and web shooters into the backpack that he slung over his shoulders.

He hoped he wouldn’t need them, but they were just in case something actually did go wrong.

There was a noisy, insistent banging on the front door by the time Peter’s clothes were dry and he was shoving a sweater over his head. He might have ignored the unnecessarily loud volume, but it was followed up with the unmistakably shrill voice of a young girl calling out to him.

“Peter!” Ellie screamed on the other side, tiny fists repeatedly rapping on his door in a manner that made his heart leap into his throat. “ HELP !”

Peter had torn himself out of the laundry room, skirted the couch, and sprung over the back less than a second later. When he ripped open the door Ellie was in the midst of banging again on the wood, her eyes echoing her surprise as they widened and she slowly looked up at Peter.

“What’s wrong?” Peter crouched and ushered her towards the living room. “Are you okay?”

Ellie didn’t budge, stammering out an apology. Behind her, Wade was cracking up in laughter.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed, I-” She stammered out a  guilty apology, and Peter soon realized it was just a prank to make him run for the door.

Wade really was a jerk sometimes.

“Oh. Did he put you up to this?” Peter asked, lowering his eyes into a heavy frown at Wade. This didn’t deter the mercenary from his giggle-fit, who apparently thought making Peter have a heart-attack was the funniest joke in the world.

Ellie took a breath and dejectedly nodded, hanging her arms and bowing her head. “Daddy said it would be funny.”

“I didn’t know you could move so fast, Petey!” Wade grinned. Ellie peeled out under Wade’s arms and took off down the hallway, running off to God-knows-where. “I heard you Usain Bolt’ing it from out here! Have you ever thought of becoming a runner?”

“Hilarious, Deadpool.” Peter drug himself to his feet, though he was admittedly still on edge. He attributed the anxiety he’d woken up with to Wade’s stunt, but the feeling of anticipation still refused to dissipate.  “I dropped my bag inside when I felt my soul leave my body. Let me grab that, then I’m ready to go.”

“Sounds like a plan, Petey! Be quick. We’re on a time crunch.” Wade briefly turned his head down the hallway, where Ellie had presumably gone. “El-Belle, you can’t pull on the fire alarm when people are walking by! Wait until they’re not looking. They jump higher when they don’t expect it.”

Peter took that as his cue to be quick before he received a lengthy scolding from their landlord, and he shouldered his backpack once more before he joined Wade in the hall. Ellie scrambled down from the window sill she had been perched on, and shoved her fingers repeatedly onto the ‘down’ button on the elevator as they waited for it to arrive.

“Where are we going?” Peter finally mustered the courage to ask, as he scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor. Hanging around them still made him a bit jumpy, but from what he could tell Ellie hadn’t disclosed his secret to Wade yet. He wasn’t sure how long the child could withhold his identity, however.

“The park.” Wade declared as the elevator doors slipped open with a soft ‘ding.’ The trio stepped in, and Ellie took on the task of pressing the button for the ground level floor. “Fresh air, plenty of pollen to aggravate the allergies and…” Wade quietly leaned in, and his pinky finger tickled Peter’s ear as he shielded his mouth. “Ellie has a crush on a boy from her school. His tyke football team practices there on Thursday afternoons so I wanted to take her to watch.”

“Secrets don’t make friends!” Ellie declared loudly from the floor, stomping her foot. A light dusting of pink covered her cheeks, as she must have guessed what Wade was discussing out of earshot. “What did he tell you?”

Wade withdrew his lips as they spread into a crooked grin, and Peter simply shrugged in response. “Nothing important.”

“Peteeeeeeer.” Ellie groaned in disappointment and crossed her arms. “I don’t wanna hear a peep outta both of you.”

“Yes ma’am.” Wade saluted, and Peter held up his hands in surrender. She had leverage over him, after all, and she knew it.

----

The park Wade chose ended up being rather populated, so he, unsurprisingly, shoved his mask over his face when the taxi dropped them off and tugged his hoodie back over his head. Neither Ellie or Peter commented on this, which seemed to help him relax as they climbed out. Ellie took an immediate interest in a golden retriever trotting around in the grass, leaving Peter and Wade to meander awkwardly down the sidewalk behind her.

“So, Petey, how ‘bout that fresh air.” Wade finally punched through the silence, taking in a dramatic sniff to accentuate his point. “Totally clears your mind, right?”

“Sure, except all I can smell is your mask.” Peter cringed, stepping a foot away from him. “Seriously, dude, do you ever wash that thing?”

“On the weekends…. In December. If I have company over. Otherwise I just let my body oils cleanse it. Au naturale. ”

“Gross.”

“I never said I had good hygiene.”

Peter shook his head but a relaxed smile had taken over his lips. He really had been quite nervous about spending the day with the two of them, but despite the stares Wade earned because of his disguise, everything felt pretty...normal. The conversation between them during the taxi ride came easy, and was primarily dominated by Ellie chattering about school, her parents, and any other random facts that popped to mind. Even now that she was running off on her own, Peter didn’t feel half as awkward walking alone with Wade as he had expected to.

“Your aunt’s coming back today, right?” Wade asked, and stretched his arms above his head. His muscles pulsed under the hoodie, and Peter forced his eyes to focus on the cracks in the side-walk passing by every so often. “Does that mean you don’t need me anymore?”

“What? No.” Peter immediately answered. The way that Wade peeked over at him had his face flushing, and he tilted his head to hide his cheeks behind his hair just a bit more. “I-I mean, I obviously… still wanna be friends with you. Everything’s been weird. Really weird. But spending these past couple days with you…” He bit his lip. “I’ve really appreciated having you as a friend, Deadpool. Not a babysitter. Not a guardian angel. A friend.”

Wade released an audible breath, and Peter was surprised he could hear it over his heart hammering in his ears. The mercenary took a bit to respond, but when he had, his voice was much lower than the playful tone he usually donned. “I like having you as a friend, too, Petey. Ellie also thinks you’re super awesome. She talked about you all night.” He paused. “None of my other friends have met her. I know I didn’t introduce you, but she’s the love of my life. I’m glad you know her.”

The child in question looked back at them and pointed her finger at the fence. Just behind it was the football team they had come to see. Wade waved her off, and she sprinted at the fence at full speed to shout a greeting at the boy with long black hair.

“She’s a really cute kid.” Peter smiled.

“Listen.” Wade finally halted their progress once they’d nearly made a full loop around the park, cars passing by them and traffic nearly drowning him out. He stood his ground silently until Peter relented and faced him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know what you’re feeling. I know how heavy everything is, but I promise this isn’t the end of your journey. You have so much more fucked up shit to live through, but you’re gonna love it in the end. You’ll be proud of it. Some of your mistakes can lead you to the best parts of your life.” He turned his head, ever so slightly, to glance over at Ellie clinging to the fence of the football field, still chattering with her male friend on the other side. “I’ve done a lot of messy things, and had a lot of messy things done to me. I’ve been on the ledge and taken that fall. More times than I could tell you, baby boy. But I’ll tell you one thing- you’ll find something worth surviving for. I want to help you find something to survive for.”

Peter sucked in a breath through his teeth. If there was ever a time to tell him, he knew it was now. He couldn’t let Wade pour his heart out and not return the favor. But he couldn’t quite form the words. “D-Deadpool, I actually…needed to tell you something.” He mumbled, drawing his eyes towards the sidewalk.

“I did, too.” Wade interrupted, on a roll, and apparently not willing to let that end. “Pete… these past few days have been crazy good. I know for you it might have felt like you were being stalked by a psycho in a suit, but for me… It was unbelievably fun. I feel like I’ve known you for years, not just a week. You didn’t freak out on me that night on the roof. You’ve never once questioned my suit, commented on my freak skin, asked me about my Avengers life... I know this might make me sound more batshit, pumpkin, I-”

A shock ran up Peter’s spin so violent his body jerked immediately in response to look behind him. The next few seconds happened in a blur.

A puppy ran into the street, leash free-flying and paws tripping over themselves as it chased its freedom. Behind it was a little girl in a red hat, arms outstretched, rain boots pounding against the asphalt. And just feet from her was a car barreling towards them down the one way going 15 over the speed limit.

Peter didn’t even think before he shot forward. The rain-heavy air left dew on his cheeks and his breath puffed thickly in his lungs. He tore his hood down over his face, and dropped his backpack against the grass to give himself full use of his arms, allowing him to leap, grab hold of a tree branch, and swing over  group of onlookers just now turning to gape at the girl heading towards her death. The tips of his sneakers caught against the ground and sent his body springing forwards, past the girl between her and the oncoming vehicle. The horn blared, Peter threw his arms out, and to his right a man screamed in horror.

Peter’s shoulders locked hard into place, ball clinking into socket, when the front of the car slammed into his palms. Yet he wasn’t the one to flip,as the car lurched up vertically and the woman driving opened her lips to shriek. He held his ground, moved only a foot by the time the car slammed back into the street and the windows shattered from the force. He only made eye contact with the woman a second longer, before her airbags deployed and she was lost behind them.

He withdrew his arms and checked over his shoulder that the girl was alright, her lips drawn open in utter shock. Behind her people were gathering, staring, and pointing. Among them was Wade, frozen in place, who looked as if he’d just seen a ghost.

But then Peter realized what truly had them frozen, and his fingertips shakily rose to touch his bare cheeks. A scrawny boy had just stopped a car with his bare hands, and his Spider-Man mask was nowhere to be found.

Peter was stupid. He’d made a lot of mistakes in his life, but never this big. Never this public. Never in front of Wade.

His instincts told him to flee. So he did.

His legs tucked under him and he took off down the one-way, towards the onslaught of cars heading in their direction. He lept over one, rolled over the hood of another, and made it across the busy road before anyone could properly react. The familiar feeling of panic had settled in his chest from the night before, and he finally was able to recognize why he had woken up with the lump of dread clutching his heart. His chance at revealing his identity had been ripped away from him not only in front of Wade, but dozens of others who had witnessed him grab the hood of the speeding vehicle. After years of hiding his identity from the police and the Avengers, he was sure he was about to be outed to the world.

The park wasn’t far off from his own neighborhood, but he knew he couldn’t go home in case anyone came looking for him. He couldn’t explain the anxiety attack to Aunt May, or see her face when the first news she saw when she came home was her nephew plastered on New York’s Most Wanted. He slowed his sprint to a brisk walk when he reached the more lively parts of Queens. He veered off his road and made his way towards the arrangement of houses in the more high-end area he definitely didn’t blend in with. Eventually he made his way into a cul-de-sac and hopped the fence of a white home. Peter didn’t bother with the front door, throwing himself halfway up the side-wall of house in one fluid jump, sticking to the brick. He climbed briskly up the  incline, and when he reached the second story bedroom with the pink curtains he tapped lightly on the glass. He didn’t wait for a reply before peeling open the window and tumbling inside.

Mary Jane leapt off her computer chair with a surprised yelp when Peter’s body stopped its rolling and he ended up with his hands and knees digging into the carpet.

“P-Peter?!” She gasped, a hand on her chest to calm the fear. The redhead pushed her bedroom door shut and flipped the lock, turning back to stare at the man who refused to return the look. “What’s going on? Are you crying?”

Peter shook his head pathetically and stifled a wounded noise, dropping himself back onto his heels as he fisted the front of his hoodie. “I m-messed up big time, MJ.” He shuddered, his breathing feeling scorching hot through spasming lungs. “I ran into the street, the girl sh was gonna be hit. Everyone was watching. Wade was watching. There’s no way they didn’t see my face. My mask was in my bag-” Shit. He was going to be sick.“Fuck, I-I left my backpack at the park!”

“Okay, okay, Pete, just breathe.” Mary Jane was doing her best to comfort him through her own confusion, but she was just as startled as Peter. “I’ll call Harry, okay? He can go try to find your backpack. Things will be fine. You’ll be fine.”

“Everything is ruined. Everyone’s gonna know. I shouldn’t have stopped the car. I should have just helped her. I’m gonna be sick.”

He didn’t notice the pressure of her hand on his back leave until the rim of a trash can appeared in front of his face, and his stomach lurched in the next instant. The adrenaline forced every last piece of food he’d eaten that morning out of his throat, until he was left dry heaving over the can. His throat burned and his head was pounding, but his panic seemed to quell after that, leaving him with drying tears on his cheeks but a clearer mind. Now that he could properly think he dropped himself back to sit against her bed, clutching his temples with shaky fingers. MJ placed the trash can next to her bedroom door and took the spot next to him, pulling his head until it rested against the bones of her shoulder.

After she had called Harry and he promised to go search for the bag, they basked in the silence of her secluded neighborhood, only broken occasionally by Peter’s sniffling or either of the pair shifting to get in a more comfortable position. Her thumb found his shoulder and rubbed firm circles along it, coaxing him to relax until the tears had stopped and he was able to sit up on his own.

“So..” Mary Jane finally spoke, chewing on her lower lip. “The guy you’ve been talking to… it was Wade, wasn’t it? You guys went out today?”

Peter breathed calculatedly, before deciding on a proper response. “Yeah. It was.” He muttered, his tone defeated. “It’s a long story. This whole week has been kind of crazy.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Peter swallowed, his throat constricting. Still, after having to keep in all of the emotions he had been experiencing alone, he wouldn’t pass up the chance to get some of the pressure off his chest.

“I guess all the insanity started on Sunday. I was gonna finally tell Wade who I was, and things just kinda got out of hand…”