*mission goes mildly awry*
any member of the parker-stark-rogers family:
*mission goes mildly awry*
any member of the parker-stark-rogers family:
Yes I do!! It’s on the wip pile at the moment lol right now I’m writing a winteriron bdsm/canon au series with @riotwritesthings so most of my writing energy goes to that, however I do have a two and a half/three week break from grad school coming up and I plan on using it to get my chapters pre written for that series and then poke at some WIP’s!
To be honest it’s a little low on my wip list—I have an a/b/o stony thing that will get finished first—I’m hoping to finish that over break as well, but it needs about 20k more words before it’s done so lol who knows if that will happen.
Long story short; yes! It exists! And I do plan to finish and post it….someday lol keep poking me about it and it will happen much sooner lol
[at a SHIELD meeting]
peter: [gently taps table]
tony: [taps back]
clint: what the hell are they doing?
steve, exasperated: morse code.
peter: [aggressively taps table]
steve: PeTER ParKER STarK
Peter always hated the sound of crumbling metal.
It wasn’t one he got to hear often and when he did… well… his gut curled remembering the sound of buildings collapsing, bridges falling, a plane on a beach being torn apart by a certain supervillain whose daughter he’d taken to homecoming. He hated the way metal-tinged and tinged and tinged and then crackled as it crushed under the weight of something or another. He had that sound. Even the sound of metal moving against itself- like the Iron Man suits walking, or Harley scraping their initials on their shared work bench, or any number of things that he found himself loving as an afterthought- made him cringe. It was probably the super hearing.
He hated the sound of crumbling metal, but right now, right here, in this battle, he would give anything to hear the familiar scrapes and crumbles of the Iron Lad armor.
“HARLEY!” His voice was going to give out as he screamed. “HARLEY! NO! NO!”
It was supposed to be a simple fight, his mind screamed at him, everything in him fighting to rush to the pile of ashes that now made up his mate. Everything in his body was screaming, everything was so loud, and Harley was- Harley was- his mate- his omega- his everything-
Something in him snapped and he saw red. Letting out a raw scream, he jerked forward, throwing off the bots from where they were trying to pin him down. They broke under his touch, and for a moment, for a vague moment, Peter felt like he was watching Achilles tear through the sea of Trojans. Harley had called that act of slaughter more monster than man. And then hot tears flooded his vision and rage flooded his veins and he kept screaming. No robots were able to even touch him as he continued his rampage. Maybe his team was trying to get his attention but he didn’t care- he didn’t care- not when this stupid fucking villian had just disintegrated the only thing Peter had to live for.
The world was quiet. There was no scraping of metal. There was no crumbling of the suit. There was nothing but a pile of ash where the love of his life was and this creature was the cause of it. His hands didn’t tremble, even as part of the mask was blasted off, even as something shot through his gut, even as the slowly dawning reality of his mate jumped into his bones.
Peter was going to kill this man.
ask and you shall receive
A fill for the Steve-Tony-Bucky Bingo, for my ‘First snowfall’ square. Also know as 2500w of Christmasy fluff and idiots in love.
Steve was looking out the window at the passersby and as much of the night sky as he could see from street level. The soft ding of the elevator sounded, making Steve smile – JARVIS only deemed it necessary when one of them was meeting someone else in the lobby after too many unintentional instances of sneaking up on each other, which had caused Bruce to almost Hulk-out one too many times.
He turned and saw Tony walk out of the elevator, looking handsome as ever, even with his more relaxed jeans and short wool jacket, with a high collared sweater peeking out. Steve barely lifted his hand in a wave, feeling that happy warmth bubbling inside him like it always did when he saw Tony these days.
“Hey there, handsome,” Tony sing-songed playfully. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Steve laughed softly. “Almost like we planned it or something.”
“R U MAD STEEB? Y R U NAD STEEEBE”
hello yes put New York by Snow Patrol in your stevetony playlists cowards
“are you okay” girl i am on ao3 looking for fanfiction from my comfort ship when i was 12 what do you think
[on a recon mission]
tony: oh my god. did you see who that was?
steve, still mad tony canceled their lunch plans: it’s hard to see anything with someone’s shield in your face.
tony: it’s your own shield !
There are times – though few and far between they are – that Steve finishes first. It’s usually after a mission or after one of Tony’s narrow escapes, and he needs the intimacy just as much as he needs the release.
His mother raised a gentlemen, damn it, and his partner must always come first. But when that doesn’t happen, when Steve is unable to control himself, he follows another lesson he had learned years ago.
Clean up your own mess.
With his own lust sated, he’s able to worship Tony’s ass and lick him clean. To shove his tongue inside that pliant hole and fuck into him, to suck on the loosened rim, and lave away the mess of come he left inside of Tony and outside of him as well. Normally, Tony isn’t allowed to touch himself – that’s Steve’s job – but when this happens, when Steve can’t control himself, he allows it.
His tongue, wet and covered in his own come, flicks back from Tony’s hole. He brings it into his mouth and swallows, nose nuzzling Tony’s rim. With a lick of his lips, he dives back in, his hand gripping Tony’s thick thighs, working him until Tony is panting and moaning and Steve’s cock is once again heavy in between his legs.
He’s got another chance.
Ready for round two.
“…Where are you sneaking off to?”
Tony’s voice stops Steve in his tracks, and he turns just enough to flick a small, nonchalant smile over his shoulder. “Just upstairs… I wanted to uh…shower,” Steve says.
Steve watches Tony narrow his eyes in confusion. “What, again? How sweaty did you get on a coffee run? And speaking of caffeine deprivation… where is the coffee?”
He’d been on his way to to the coffeeshop when he’d been derailed by a small gray and white cat scampering across his path. Steve almost thought he’d imagined it, until he took a few more steps and it happened again. That time, it had circled around his feet afterwards, rubbing up against his calves and looking up at him, bright green eyes studying him curiously.
Steve was pretty much a goner after that.
“I forgot. I got you a Christmas present? So I wanted to come home and hide it.” Steve’s improvising, the lie clear as day in his voice. He knows it, and based on Tony’s smirk, his husband knows it, too.
Steve nods, looking briefly down at the cat bundled against his chest, tucked halfway in his jacket. It’s not like he’d let her freeze on the walk back, after all; who knew how long she’d been outside.
Before Steve can agree though, the cat makes a soft chirping sound, and Steve’s face heats. He hadn’t thought through how he would explain this to Tony, whether he’d want to keep her, if they were even fit to be cat parents, but none of it seemed to matter in the moment. The little thing seemed to trust him almost immediately, and Steve couldn’t just leave her there with winter settling over the city in earnest.
“You were saying something about a present?” Tony smirks. “Can you turn around please, dear?”
Steve hesitates. “Well, I have the gift here with me, and I didn’t want to ruin it…”
“Steve,” Tony says again, laughing now.
Slowly, Steve turns around, feels the cat poke her head out to look up at Tony, no doubt charming him with the same green eyes that won him over.
“Uh,” Steve starts. “I found her on my way to the coffee place. I think she likes me,” Steve can’t help but add, smiling.
“It’s a cat,” Tony says.
“It is,” Steve nods. “Merry Christmas?”
She chirps again, peering out at Tony, who leans over to get a better look before reaching a hand out for her to smell.
“Have you ever even had a cat?” Tony asks, stroking her between the ears.
“Not quite,” Steve admits. “I was allergic to them before the serum.”
Tony makes a quiet ah sound. “Me either. Never had any pets, actually. Unless you count DUM-E, which…” He trails off with a roll of his eyes.
“He’s a good boy, Tony,” Steve says, earning him an eye roll.
“He’s got you wrapped around his little claw,” Tony teases, though Steve can see the fond smile working its way over his lips.
“Your jealousy is showing, sweetheart.” Steve looks from Tony back to the cat still in his arms. “So…”
Tony smiles, clearly already taken with the cat. “Are you asking me to be a father, Steven?”
“Giving you a present,” Steve replies quickly, sticking to his story.
“Right, of course.”
The cat chooses then to nudge her face against Tony’s hand, looking for affection. Tony softens, then gives her chin a little rub, and Steve knows he has him.
“Well,” Tony says, “who am I to turn down a present from my husband?”
They’ll spend the rest of the afternoon googling vets and pet names and places to buy toys, but the cat doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, curling up between them on the couch and falling asleep without a moment’s hesitation.
Also using this as a fill for the “surprise” square on our @stb-bingo ! Team soft stuckyony ❤️
Me, reading another Tony-centric stuckony soulmate au with Howard Stark’s A+ parenting as one of the tags: I’m ready to be hurt again.