Nottellingofname - Archive Of My Own

Marked

Summary: Your secret relationship is nearly exposed when Natasha spots Bucky's neck covered in hickeys.

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected rough sex, lots of hickeys, swearing, pet names, fluffy feels, very minor angst, protective natasha, avengers tower au, beefy!bucky (he needs a warning).

Word Count: 1.3k

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

“Hey babe, I’m really sorry,” Nat sat down beside you on the couch, looking at you with a sad smile.

You furrowed your brows, trying to process her words. What did she have to be sorry for?

“Um, why?”

“Because of you-know-who,” she subtly nodded her head towards Bucky chatting with Sam in the kitchen. He was laughing at something Sam had said, and despite the fact that he was wearing a hoodie, the hickeys on his neck were still visible. She knew you couldn’t miss those prominent love bites.

Nat was well aware of the giant crush you had on the dark-haired supersoldier, and she also thought that those feelings were requited. Bucky had seemed entirely enamored by you ever since you joined the team. She couldn’t believe he would do that, especially because everyone including him knew how you felt. You must have felt terrible about the whole situation.

“Oh,” biting your lip, you willed yourself not to react. Nat could read you like a book and you didn’t want her to know about the sordid details of this chapter. Not yet at least. “He’s a grown up, and he can do whatever he wants,” you stood up in haste, giving her a nod before walking back to your room.

She missed the wink Bucky shot you, and the way you smiled at the ground as you left.

Bucky assured you that the marks would heal fast, giving you free rein to do whatever you wanted to him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough.

“What the hell?” Nat muttered under her breath. She figured his actions must have hurt you so much that you couldn’t even properly react to it. Deciding to confront the man himself, she stormed into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting next to Sam.

She glared at Bucky as he finished up his story, catching the eyes of both men. Sam exchanged a look with Bucky, neither having any idea why she was staring like that.

Bucky grinned at Nat cautiously, “What’s up?”

“She was literally in the room, and you couldn’t think to maybe pull your hood on, or wear a scarf?”

“Nat,” he tried to think of an explanation, but the truth wasn’t his to tell. You asked him not to. “It’s no big deal,” he lied.

His time with you was everything, and he couldn’t fight the flashback his brain had of you in his lap the night before sucking and biting his neck as you rode him. If only Nat could see the state of your chest and the marks that you had thanks to him, she’d know there were no hurt feelings.

Sam watched on, trying to keep his face neutral because he already knew about the two of you. He’d seen Bucky slip out of your room a few mornings ago, however he respected your privacy and kept your secret. Although, he had no problem teasing Bucky about it when you weren’t around.

“Live your life, but you could be more respectful of her feelings,” she said before standing up and leaving.

Bucky pursed his lips as he looked at Sam.

“Should’ve covered it up, man,” Sam smirked.

Nodding his head, “Yeah, for her sake.”

“What are you guys waiting for?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m letting her set the pace, it’s up to her.”

┈┈┈┈┈・・

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cried out as his powerful hips snapped into you at a relentless pace. The sheer look of pleasure and determination on his face made you shudder as you watched him take you apart. Your legs wrapped around his waist, an impulse for more; to be closer, to be consumed.

Metal fingers began to circle your clit, making your body contract beneath him.

“Oh baby,” you whimpered. He fucked you like a god, a self-assured divine being.

Bucky smirked, “Do you like that?” His fingers continued their sweet torture as he took what he needed. With each fierce thrust he brought you closer, to your end, to his soul.

Unable to speak, you watched your perfect man lose himself inside of you.

It hit like lightning striking your body, electrifying every nerve with blissful euphoria. You threw your head back as you heard your pulse ring in your ears, wet walls squeezing tight around his cock.

Unable to think, simply feeling the sensory overload.

He groaned out your name as his hips stuttered erratically. Pushing impossibly deeper, he came hard. Shuddering his release, pumping himself empty inside his favorite place.

Collapsing on top of you, he kissed you softly before turning you on your side as he stayed nestled inside of you.

Dark blue eyes connected with yours, his thumb dusting over your bottom lip.

Tangling your hands into his hair, you pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his. Tongue sliding between his parted lips, chest pressed against his, close.

This was where you were supposed to be.

Bucky pulled back and playfully started peppering your face with kisses. Down your jawline, all over your cheeks, on your nose, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Bucky!” you tried to grab his face. But he wouldn’t relent, gripping the back of your neck, kissing you until you were squealing in laughter.

He loved that sound, he adored seeing you so happy. How Nat could ever think that he’d go for any other girl was not something he could comprehend. Bucky only had eyes for you.

“Doll,” he kissed your lips before letting you catch your breath. He couldn’t wait any longer, he had to know. “What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?” you whispered.

“Why are we hiding this?”

You sighed. “Because I want this to be our thing for a while longer, we’re having fun aren’t we?” you grinned, not understanding his concern.

“Of course we are, but… this is more than just fun for me,” his eyes searched yours.

Oh this sweet, soft man.

“Then we’ll tell the team, we can tell anyone you want.”

“Really?” he beamed.

“Yes, really. It’s more for me too, I don’t want you to think for a moment that it isn’t. I didn’t want anyone casting doubts on us – but I’m sure about you, so it’s okay.”

“Thank you, I can only take so much mad-dogging from Nat,” he breathed a sigh of relief. Although, his true solace came from the knowledge that the feeling in his heart was reciprocated – he was damn well certain about you too.

“Right, because that’s your thing, isn’t it tough guy?” you teased. His penchant for staring often intimidated others, but you knew the kind-hearted man under the hard exterior.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, rolling you on top of him in one swift movement. His hardened length still inside of you told you that the time for talking had ended. Your hands fell onto his strong, broad chest as you held yourself up, ready to take him for a ride.

His fiery gaze landed on your breasts, the heat from his stare capable of scorching the earth. He ran his warm fingers over the fading marks he’d left from the night before, admiring them.

Desire flooded your body and when your eyes locked, an idea came to your mind. “Why don’t you bite my neck?” you raised an eyebrow.

He sat up, the offer one he wasn’t willing to pass. Bucky trailed his lips along your jaw, nibbling his way down until he whispered, “Only if you promise to bite me back,” he licked up your neck.

With a racing heart, you circled your hips before grinding down on him. “Deal.”

There was no point in concealing this connection that meant so much to the both of you. And as his teeth bit down on your skin, a rush of arousal ran through you. The sting of his possession, the way he felt so deep inside you; this was it.

The two of you would likely tell your friends the following day about your relationship – or they could just take a look at the matching marks on your necks that let them know exactly who you belonged to.

8K notes View Post

nottellingofname

9 months ago

every nanami headcannons post i see is like “nanami is a provider, nanami is a breadwinner...”

ARE YOU KIDDING. NANAMI NEEDS A WOMAN WHO MAKES BAG SO HE CAN QUIT HIS JOB AND BE A HOUSEHUSBAND.

this man HATES work and you’re telling me that he wants to be the sole provider? PLEASE be real for a second. nanami was built for domesticity. he needs a girl who can buy a cute little house by the sea where all he has to worry about is reading his books and loving his woman.

like this man will make sure you come home every night to a clean house and a warm dinner and then eat ur pussy like a champ. his girl takes care of him so he’s gonna take care of her and he’s gonna take care of her good.

service dom to end all service doms. you want dick after a long day of work? he’s gonna make you see stars and then take care of you like a princess. you want to be slapped around? sure. he’ll tie you up and use you, but best believe your cumming at least 4 times. you want it soft and gentle? that’s what you’ll get. anything for his hard working baby.

and once you're nice and worn out and sleeping comfortably in bed, he's going to the kitchen to make ur lunch for tomorrow. complete with a little note on the napkin reminding you how much he loves you.

nanami deserves a life as a malewife. keep that man barefoot and in the kitchen.

this is the correct opinion and i will not be arguing my point any further at this time. thank you for listening.

10K notes View Post

nottellingofname

5 months ago

God, he's so cute.

my beautiful princess with a disorder

2K notes View Post

nottellingofname

9 months ago

Part ?? of mermaid au 😭

115 notes View Post

nottellingofname

2 years ago

Fantasy right here

unsubtle ✩ peter parker

word count ✎ 5.4k

tropes ✎ avenger!reader / enemies to lovers / smut

warnings ✎ masturbation, dom/sub, nipple play, overstimulation, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, peter parker doesn’t just have bde he has a big dick, handjob, voice kink, grinding, cowgirl, multiple orgasms

summary ✎ on a mission with the avengers, the team unexpectedly crashes at a motel and you get stuck sharing a bed with peter, who you can’t stand. to make matters worse, you’re ovulating and can’t sleep without touching yourself.

a/n ✎ hey besties, i’m reposting because it didn’t show up in the tags yesterday :(( like i said yesterday, i’ve been dying to write and post fics for a long time but i was too insecure and scared to try. part of the reason why i was inspired to make a new blog and give it a try is because of the great writers i followed so i want to thank @duskholland @worldoftom @venomsilk @vendettaparker @userholland @t-lostinworlds for their beautiful writings that motivated me so much when i need it. you’re all icons ♡

You were in hell.

No, really. You weren’t much of a religious woman but right now, you felt like there was some deity out there who had decided to curse you with the worst luck possible. Here you were, doing a good deed by helping free people being held hostage by a Hydra subdivision, and you were rewarded by Tong making you share a room in a dusty, cramped motel with another Avenger you couldn’t stand. Just your luck, there was only one bed and, after almost killing each other to see who would take the floor, you both gave in.

And now you were lying next to the guy, sharing his body heat, whilst your own body was thrumming with arousal, at the height of ovulation. And Peter, deep asleep as he was, smelt fucking heavenly, like your very own personal temptation.

There was no chance of you sleeping. None. Not with your thighs rubbing together as you lay on your side. Not with the way Peter was shifting behind you. You closed your eyes and prayed. Whatever you had done, you would undo it. You didn’t care. You would do whatever it took. Just take away the need, and you would serve soup at a homeless shelter for a month if it meant being able to get some rest.

You squeezed your eyes shut, taking deep breaths. A minute passed. Then another. Another. You listened to your heartbeat and Peter’s even breathing.

Cursing silently, you shuffled away from him. “Peter,” you whispered.

No response.

Spider boy was dead to the world.

You carefully slipped one hand down to unbutton your jeans, and made as little movement as possible to work your fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. Pausing, waiting. No response from your companion, so you pushed a little further, stretching your underwear. The noise of the slick between your thighs was audible and you winced, waiting for something, anything. Peter was still asleep, so you swiped your fingers up your slit. Shaking at the abrupt touch, you forced down a gasp, and drew your hand up just a little to stroke in minute circles against your clit.

Trying to keep yourself still was difficult. You needed more friction, more speed, but your arm shook and so did your hip, tugging at the blanket thrown over the both of you. Your other hand slipped over your mouth, pressing down hard to muffle the soft whining that tried to escape you. And when Peter shifted behind you with a soft noise, you ripped your hand out of your pants, swallowing.

You paused, listening, waiting, wondering if he was going to stir and catch you in the act. The sound of his breathing as it evened out seemed so loud in the otherwise silent room. It must have been several minutes before you dared to slip your fingers back to where they were. You bit down on your lip, rubbing gently again, keeping your arm so tight to your body that your muscles started to ache. But it was worth it – the pleasure was slowly growing between your thighs, and the fabric of your panties muffled what must have been an impressive wet noise.

Peter arched, groaning, and rolled onto his back. Freezing, you yanked your hand out again, placing it on your stomach. Other than a long, deep exhale, he didn’t move, but now his arm was braced against your back, the warmth of his skin bleeding through your thin t-shirt. You pressed your lips together, and then you shuffled a little further away. The blanket slid up, just about covering part of you, and cool air wafted against you. Gritting your teeth against the sudden cold, you took a deep breath, then slid your hand back down once more. Just one orgasm. Just one. Then you could sleep.

You wriggled your panties down into your pants, fingers going straight to your clit. You needed to make this quick and quiet. So you moved in fast little circles, your hand over your mouth again as you tried to stop your hips riding your hand they way they seemed to be trying to. The wet noise was almost audible now, and your cheeks burnt with embarrassment. If Peter woke up right now—

Oh god, he was a fucking coworker you didn’t like, and here you were touching yourself whilst he slept beside you. And yet you didn’t stop, pressing your head into one of the pillows beneath you that Peter had brought along for the mission. Bad idea. He had apparently used it before, and it smelt of him, masculine and arousing. The scent seemed to drop straight to where your fingers were stroking, and you whimpered.

Peter stirred.

You froze. Fuck, fuck—

Nothing.

You almost growled. It was like he was unwittingly edging you like this, interrupting you before you could reach that edge. God. What you wouldn’t give for him to just fucking slide into you, right now. His fingers, his dick, whatever he was willing to spare for you. You needed it.

Wetting your fingers with your slick again, you returned to touching yourself, panting softly into your hand. You couldn’t keep doing this. You were going to go insane. The need throbbed beneath your fingers, like an ache that wouldn’t go away, and you moved your hand to bury your face in the pillow, sneaking your fingers up to play with your nipple. Anything for more stimulation, for more touch, for more.

Your thighs trembled, and you fought to keep them from moving too much, to give yourself just enough space to touch without broadcasting to your sleeping companion that you were trying to cum with him lying next to you like this. Your breathing came sharply into the pillow as the heat coiled beneath your fingers and began to grow.

Peter rolled onto his side once more, chest towards your back, and you bit down a whimpered curse as you stilled. A shiver rushed through you, and you wanted to scream.

A low chuckle filled the air, curving down your spine like a warm touch. Your eyes shot wide open.

“You’re the least subtle person I know, Y/N,” Peter murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

That heat between your thighs throbbed again. “You were awake,” you panted.

“Yeah sweetheart, I was awake the moment you said my name,” he told you. “But you didn’t say it again, so I thought I’d wait and see what you wanted. And let me tell you, I wasn’t disappointed in the slightest to find out.”

You stilled. “I—I’m sorry,” you stammered. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—“

“I’m not mad, Y/N,” he said softly. “Hell, I was waiting for you to ask me for a hand.”

Your mouth went dry and you immediately found yourself wondering what Peter’s big fingers would feel like between your thighs, working your through that urge. “You,” you swallowed, “you’re…ok with…me…”

“Y/N,” his voice was breathy, “Just tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You felt hot. “I just…I need…something.”

“How about we get your clothes off and I start you off with my fingers?” Peter suggested gently. “Then maybe after that you might be able to think clearer.”

Warm fingers wrapped around your wrist, and you watched as Peter eased your fingers out of your pants. Warm golden light filled the space when he switched on his lamp, and he let go of your wrist to hook his fingers into one of the belt loops on your jeans, tugging you back under the blanket so that your back was pressed against the firm slope of his chest. Your ass met his hips, and oh, ok, ok.

Peter tugged at your pants, working them down to your knees. Your thighs were wet, and you bit your lip as he pulled them up to slide your jeans over your feet. There was a soft sound as they were tossed with their bags, and then Peter’s hands were at the hem of your shirt, stripping that off. You were quickly left in just your bra.

“I’m going to pull the blanket down, ok?” Peter asked.

You nodded. “Sure.”

Peter folded the blanket over, baring your torso, and you arched to let him unhook your bra and slide it off you. Your nipples were immediately obvious, but you didn’t have time to cover yourself before one hand was cupping a breast, the other tossing your bra to join the growing pile of clothes. The big, warm hands groped at you gently, thumbs pebbling the stiff nipples, and your hips bucked. Your ass rocked against his erection.

Peter rolled you onto your back, and knelt up over you. His head immediately dipped to your breast, and his now free hand slipped between your thighs. You almost choked on your moan. His fingers were big, and rough, and they rubbed gently against your clit with just enough friction to have you almost sobbing at the touch.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, and ran his tongue over your nipple.

You squeaked, grabbing hold of the blanket, and Peter reached down to guide your hand to his shoulders gently as he stroked a little faster.

“You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart,” he added. “Must hurt where my fingers are, huh?”

“God,” you gasped, “yeah, it hurts…”

Peter gently probed at your slit with a finger. “I can fix that.”

“Please,” was the only thing you said.

If this were any other time, you would be more coherent, more sexy, more verbal, but Peter slipped a finger into you and you threw your head back and moaned. His thumb came to rest on your clit and began to rub, hard and fast. Tremors rocked your body at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, and Peter leaned over you, his mouth on your nipple, one hand resting on your head as his finger fucked you. The wet noise of that combined with the wet noise of his tongue, and you gripped his t-shirt tight, your hips bucking desperately into his hand.

Peter brushed another finger along your slit, and slowed his hand down, gently working it into you. You whined, another tremor rocking you, and you tried to relax. Peter’s thumb kept rubbing at your nub. Your nails dug into him. Peter grunted softly, and when he had gently spread you open for him, he sped his hand up once more, angling his fingers to—

You came with a cry, clamping down on his fingers and wriggling your hips desperately as the sudden orgasm washed over you. Holy shit. Holy shit. You weren’t the most experienced woman in the Avengers, sure, but coming that quick, that hard—? You could hear yourself whining as Peter worked you through it, all the while his lips sucked at your nipple and his thumb rubbed at your clit until your muscles felt like water.

Your hips quivered as he kept stroking, the sudden electric overstimulation pulling a groan from you. Peter nodded wordlessly and slipped his fingers out of you. Laying back, you watched as he raised his hand to his mouth and began to lick his fingers clean. Oh fuck. Oh, fuck. He kept those big brown eyes on yours as he did so.

“Is,” you swallowed, your lips trembling, “this your wicked plan to have your way with me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter teased, leaning over you. “I’m just doing you a favour while you’re suffering.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, sure, you’re totally,” your words caught in your throat as his hips slotted between your thighs, “free of ulterior motives.”

Two strong arms came down either side of your head as Peter leaned closer, the warmth of his defined abs separated from your own by the old white t shirt he wore. Fuck, he was broad. You had always wondered what the hell that spider bite did to him to make him that big. And yet he didn’t scare you. Sure, you’d seen superheroes and mutants and super soldiers before, but a boy like Peter who’s your age, a boy as powerful and relentless as him, there should’ve been something stressing you about him. Especially since neither of you like the other and are always fighting even during missions, driving Tony and Steve crazy. Though you had to admit, you probably would have been just as turned on by him if he was scary.

So you had a thing for putting yourself in danger…

“Well, that depends,” he murmured. “Are you feeling better?”

“…what happens if I say no?” You asked.

Peter grinned. “I have a couple ways of dealing with that.”

You blinked. “…yeah? Does one of them involve needing protection?”

“Probably.” Peter looked at his bag, then at you. “But if it helps, I’m clean, and since my spider-bite, I don’t even know if I have a chance of knocking anyone up.”

Still, you watched him reach over into his bag, and he pulled a little foil packet out of one of the pockets, handing it to you. His hips pressed against yours as he did so, and if he was trying to hint at something or if it was a genuine mistake, well – you neither knew nor cared, because you could feel his cock pulsing through his jeans. You couldn’t believe Peter Parker had a big dick.

“Your call,” he said gently.

You blinked. “…what’s the thing that doesn’t involve needing protection? Just…so I know.” Jesus, there was no way that thing was gonna fit in you.

“I mean you might have noticed I’m a pretty talkative guy and I like to run my mouth,” Peter said.

Your brow arched. “Are you being delicate with me? Right now?”

Peter gazed at you. “Not a fan of delicate? How about I just offer to eat you out then.”

You swallowed, nodding as your breathing wavered a little. “That…that works,” you agreed.

“Glad to hear it.”

Peter’s head immediately ducked, and you watched, squirming a little, as his lips pressed to your ribcage. The slide of his skin tickled yours as he slowly kissed your stomach, then your hipbones, and then two fingers were spreading your thighs wider, and his tongue licked a long, broad stripe up from the base of your slit to your nub.

“Ohmyfuckinggod,” You gasped out as his nose was pressed directly against your clit. His lips surrounded it, sucking.

“Hard and fast or do you want a bit more to build you up?” Peter asked, his voice muffled.

“Whatever means you don’t fucking stoP!” You yelped. “Oh fuck, don’t—don’t be a dick about this!”

“Yes ma’am,” Peter chuckled.

One hand slung over your belly, holding you against his mouth, as the other cupped your breast, gently squeezing, playing with the nipple. Your hands clung to Peter’s head, your nails digging into the scalp. Peter purred pleasantly, the vibrations hitting your clit and jolting your hips into his mouth.

You abandoned holding his hair, rocking desperately against his mouth as the man between your thighs—oh god what was he doing with his tongue, fuck yes—ate you out like you were his last meal. You slung your thighs over his shoulders, your heels digging into his muscular back as you thumped your fists against the lumpy mattress beneath you, sucking in heavy breaths.

Your back arched as he abandoned pinning you down to grab both breasts, his thumbs teasing and tugging at your nipples. You watched him play whenever your eyes could meet his, looking at the mouth and the pink flash of tongue and always those big brown irises, looking at you like he could give you head blindfolded.

Oh my god maybe he could.

Nails dragged over your ribs, down your belly, before fingertips ran over the scratches and back up to play with your breasts again.

“Peter,” you felt your stomach swoop, “Peter, fuck, oh my god, fuckfuckfuckfuck—”

Both your hands clapped over your mouth as he pinched gently at the stiff peaks of your breasts, and you came with a muffled scream, your hips riding his mouth frantically. He just pulled you closer, let his lips rub against the sensitive nub of your clit, of your folds, and shook his head to work that friction until you were sobbing beneath his tongue.

You twitched beneath him, your skin oversensitive to even the gentlest brush, and Peter let your whimper under him like that for a good few seconds as his tongue lapped gently to bring you down from your orgasm. Slumping limp against the bedding, you panted sharply, whining when the bastard kissed at your thigh, scratching you. A thumb teased your nipple. You slapped his hand away, and all he did was chuckle.

“God you’re cute when you’re coming,” Peter murmured, and damn him if that didn’t make you throb. You’d barely recovered from your last orgasm, you didn’t need to want another one.

“Shut up,” you panted.

He was watching you the whole time as he wiped your slick off his chin, somehow managing to look innocent like he hadn’t just had you screaming into your own hand, and slid down onto the mattress to lie next to you. He didn’t speak, just waited.

That throbbing didn’t go away.

You looked at the little foil packet. Then you looked over at Peter, and one hand reached for the button on his jeans. He didn’t help or hinder you, just let you unzip him, tug down the hem of his jeans and push your fingers past his black boxers.

Yeah, he was about as big as you thought he was.

You felt yourself throb again. Well, if all else failed…

“Is that gonna fit?” you heard yourself ask.

Peter threw back his head and laughed. “Fuck, that’s a question I like hearing,” he admitted. “It should do, never had a problem with it before.”

You swallowed, and Peter arched up to let you pull his jeans down until his boxers were visible. Reaching in, you freed his cock from his boxers, and ran your fingers over it. Peter moaned softly.

“You often get asked if it’ll fit?” You asked.

Peter reached over, his fingers slipping beneath your chin. “Y/N. You don’t have to.”

Your brow furrowed. “I never back down from a challenge. You know this.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself because you’ve got something to prove,” Peter said softly.

You shot him a grin. “Worried you won’t last, Spider-Man?”

You barely saw his hand grab your waist before you were being tugged into his lap and Peter was sitting up, shucking his shirt off. “My dick is a one and done offer, but remember what I just did to you with my mouth and hands,” he purred. “You’re practically in heat so I need to make sure you’re completely satisfied. And I’ll take as long as I need.”

You exhaled heavily. “You always this talkative?” you croaked.

Peter kicked off his jeans and moved you to straddle his waist as he tugged his boxers down. You felt his cock just about pressing against your clit, still erect enough to be able to do so.

“So,” Peter’s voice cut through your thoughts, “you want the condom?”

You shook your head. “Nah.”

He nodded. “Ok. So, what’s your favourite position?”

“Uh,” you paused, “I—I don’t know, I haven’t exactly done all that much.”

Peter nodded. “Stay in my lap then, it’ll make it easier for you to control things like that.”

How could he say this in such a blasé way? It was like he was discussing the weather. You just nodded, watching as he sat back, and then you clambered onto him. Your eyes found his cock, and then your hands, wrapping around him and rubbing gently. The man beneath you moaned, brown eyes disappearing briefly as they shut.

“Move at your own pace,” he said softly, and lay down, his hands running up your belly to cup your breasts.

Your lashes fluttered as your wrist jerked, moving slowly up and down his cock. Shuffling forward a little, you braced the tip of him against your folds, wetting him. His tongue flicked out to lick his lip, and his thumbs gently circled your nipples as you lowered yourself. The slightly burn of the stretch was more from your lack of action than lack of preparation, and you kept it slow, letting yourself adjust as the first inch filled you. A soft moan filled the room, and you shut your eyes.

“You ok?”

He was watching you when you opened your eyes, hips dropping a little further. “Yeah,” you breathed, grasping his forearms as the next inch slipped in. Another moan, louder this time, escaped you. His eyes were fixed on you, gauging your every reaction, checking for pain, for nervousness. You let a little more of him fill you. “You gone all shy, Parker?” you added.

His brow rose. “You’ve got half of my dick in you and you think I’m shy all of a sudden?”

You spluttered, pausing. “You’re not talking,” you pointed out.

Peter grinned at that. “You want me to talk?”

Fuck. You’d been caught. “It’s just weird you’re not running your mouth, that’s all.”

Peter’s eyes were fixed on where you were slowly slipping more of him into you. “That’s what you’re telling yourself, huh? Whilst you’re naked and sinking down into my lap? After I just made you cum twice?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and Peter reached up to drag your head forward so that his mouth pressed against yours. Heat surged through your body, and you returned the kiss eagerly as your ass met his lap, legs draped either side of him. Both hands came back to your breasts, palms rubbing against your nipples, and you braced your hands on his chest as your back arched. Your hips rolled a little, working gently back and forth on him. A low groan buzzed against your lips.

“All yours, Y/N,” Peter murmured softly, and nipped at your lower lip.

“You’re not gonna help?” you teased.

His eyes glinted. “Later. When you ask me to.”

As you used his chest to lean up and start to rock, you had to wonder what he meant by that. But it didn’t take you long to stop caring about that once you began moving your hips.

Your eyes closed, and you began to roll, back and forth, the pressure of him filling you sating some of that irritating need that had been plaguing you all damn day. And for all the thickness of him, you were wet, and there was no trouble letting him work in and out of you. The rough pads of his thumbs on your nipples sent little flecks of heat to your core as you rode him, and he seemed content to let you do what you liked without much other than a few soft groans.

“S-so.” You opened your eyes and your mouth went dry at the sight of the pale grey eyes gazing up at you in curiosity. “W-what? What’s the look for?”

“You’re cute,” Peter told you casually, and his thumb slid down between your thighs.

You bowed as he began to rub at your clit, and now his hips started to oh so slowly thrust up into you. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he kept it languid and casual, like it was no big deal that there was a woman on top of him with his dick in her.

Fuck. Maybe this was no big deal.

“Penny for your thoughts, Y/N,” Peter drawled. “You ok?”

You nodded. “Been a while.”

His thumb pressed a little harder and you whined. Licking your lips, you arched and started to move a little faster in his lap, breath catching.

“You’re quiet,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Peter grinned, sounding genuinely amused, “are you saying you like the sound of my voice?”

Your cheeks burnt. “I’ve heard worse,” you muttered.

Peter snorted, and bucked his hips a little harder, his large hand palming your breast. “So you want me to talk to you while you ride me, is that it?”

“Mmm, maybe,” you whispered.

He smirked. “Sure. I can do that.”

Bracing yourself on his chest again, you sat up and began to bounce on him, a soft gasp escaping you. Peter’s breath came gentle but sharper, and the smirk wavered just a little.

“How long have you wanted to fuck me, Y/N?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes even as a soft wave of heat rolled over you. “Not answering that!”

“That,” he exhaled, “is code for ‘since I met you’ isn’t it?”

Groaning, you nevertheless sped up as the touch of his thumb started to work you slowly up, pleasure building gently. “Shhh and let me, mm, do this,” you complained.

Peter just laughed, the sound breathless and punctuated by sharp pants. “Hey, you asked me to talk,” he reminded you.

“Regretting it,” you panted.

There was a wet noise coming from between your thighs, and Peter’s hips rocked a little as your nails dug into his skin, the wiry hairs that covered his chest brushing against your fingers. Your eyes met his for a moment, and when he ran his tongue over his teeth, all you could think of was how he had reduced you to a mess with just his tongue. Shivering, your eyes closed, a bolt of heat pulsing around where he filled your.

“So should I shut up?” he breathed.

You groaned as you sped up, chasing that coiling heat. “F-fuck, just d-don’t stop!”

“No?”

His thumb slowed down just a little, enough to be noticeable, and you keened, your body moving frantically against his to make up for the loss of sensation.

“Fuck you,” you groaned. It wouldn’t be long. Your body was tensing, expectant of the relief.

“That what you’re into?” Peter’s thumb pressed harder all of a sudden, moving faster. “You like thinking, fuck, thinking ahh- about me taking- taking it away, Y/N? Leaving you hanging?”

A frustrated noise ripped out of your throat. “Don’t you dare!”

Almost—

There was a soft chuckle below you as you closed your eyes. “C’mon, Y/N.” His thumb—

You let out a sharp cry as you came around him, nails raking down his chest and pulling a sharp gasp from his lips before his moans curled along your skin with each clench of your walls around his cock. Your lips parted, heat flushing your body, and you shook in his lap. His name escaped you, filling the room, and finally you sagged against him, breathless and hot.

“Better?” Peter asked cheerfully.

“Yeah,” you gasped, slumping down onto his chest. “Yeah, I’m, I’m good.”

“Glad to be of service.” His hands gently grasped your shoulders, gently stroking, and you felt him twitching inside you.

“You—right, you didn’t,” you managed.

“Nope,” he agreed. “I can take care of it, though.”

You sat up, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine. You can—I’m good. Just give me a second and you can—yeah, go ahead.”

You were on your back before you even realised it, the man kneeling above you, arms caging you in. You gasped as he gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“This ok?” he asked casually.

“Yeah.” You wriggled your hips. “Should’ve known you mutant types were into this.”

Peter just chuckled. “You think a radioctive spider made me kinkier?”

Your thighs slid around his hips. “I’m just saying. You all get worked up so easily and that radioactivity combined with your skintight suit can’t be helping your temper.”

“My deepest,” his hips slid forward to meet yours with a gentle slap, “apologies, Ms. Y/N. Here was me thinking you enjoyed the skintight flight suit and mask.”

You moaned gently. “…all right, maybe it’s not the worst.”

“I knew you secretly liked it.”

And then he was fucking you, driving down into you fast and hard. Your head fell back as you arched up into the movements, heels digging into his back. The sound of them was noisier now after you’d gotten what you needed from him, and you felt less desperate now. You damn well hoped so, after three orgasms.

Possibly four, if he was determined.

His breathing was heavy, and when you looked up, gazing into the brown eyes, you found them lidded and hazy. It was a good look on him. You’d seen the full spectrum of his emotions, and here and now, with him leaned over you, it was the first time there hadn’t been a hint of sadness in there. You bit your lip, wanting to kiss him all of a sudden.

“Feel better?” Peter panted, his large hand spanning your hip, thumb rolling over your clit again.

“Oh fuck,” you whined, eyes fluttering shut, toes curling. “A-again?!”

“Can’t, god, can’t have you waking up in the—the night just to—mmm—get yourself off,” Peter teased with a wavering smirk that was undermined by his breathlessness.

“Much—much appreciated!” You managed to shoot back, but the way he was drilling you like this was rubbing up against your sweet spot, and you were starting to feel that heat coil between your thighs again even though you weren’t certain you’d get there before he did. Still, you cracked your eyes open to look at him, green meeting silver.

“Glad to be of service.”

His eyes shut tightly, and he trembled, his nails digging into your hip as his lips curled back over his teeth. A growl rumbled in his chest and his muscles tensed. It was—god, it was something to watch. You had never had sex with a guy who was as ripped as him before. In the dim light, the cuts and ripples of his muscular chest shone even before. Not to mention the freckles on his nose and that tongue.

“This—fuck—it’s ridiculous,” you complained, the frustration in your words as tattered by the moans that escaped you as his smirk had been. “H-how are you, fuck, this attractive?”

The brown eyes opened, meeting yours. “Keep talking.”

“Nnfuck.” You strained against his hands as took him in. “A-aren’t you d-done yet?”

“No.” It was firm. His thumb moved faster. “Talk.”

“Too good for the d-damn Avengers,” you gasped out, as your toes curled. “Way too good!”

“Yeah?” His voice was ragged all of a sudden.

“Seriously,” you moaned, “you’re all like this- and- god- th-they’ve got sticks- up their-!”

Peter’s thrusting was growing uneven, and you weren’t going to last much longer either. His fingers flexed around your wrists, reminding you of all that power coiled under his touch, capable of pinning you down, of hurting you, but you knew he never would.

His teeth flashed in a grin. “C’mon. Cum.”

You obeyed, tipping over that edge and clamping down on him for the second time this evening as he fucked you through your fourth orgasm. Thumbing at your clit, he was shaking, but he didn’t stop, not until you were groaning from the sudden sensation of too much. Then his hips were sliding away from yours, and the hand on your wrists gripped his cock and stroked rapidly. Twitching, he spilled onto your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed, slumping onto his knees.

You were still panting from your own orgasm, the strings of his cum hot and wet on your belly as you lay back. Arms still above your head, your eyes closed, and you let your legs relax, swinging wide open against the floor below you. After a moment, Peter fell to his side next to you, raking his nails through his chestnut curls. Slowly, the sweat began to cool on your skin, and you shivered.

“Let me.”

Peter moved around to your right, and a few moments later, you felt a cloth wiping the mess from your skin. You rubbed your eyes, exhaling heavily.

“That was good,” you murmured.

“Good?” he repeated. “Fuck, I’m losing my edge.”

The cloth left your belly. you rolled over, looking at him. “Fine, fine. I’ll stroke your ego. That was perfect. I needed that.” Your brow arched. “Better?”

Peter grinned. “Absolutely. I enjoyed myself too, in case you were wondering.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Your ego.”

“Almost as big as my dick.” Peter reached for his clothes. “You wanna dress, or sleep naked?”

“Naked,” You replied, pushing yours above your head. “We can just snuggle up.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Peter pulled the blankets back, and shuffled closer to you, rolling you into his arms and tucking you beneath the covers. You curled into the warmth, relaxing.

“Next time you feel the urge, you’re welcome to ask for it whenever,” Peter murmured in your ear.

Your cheeks flushed.

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