#infinitypeggys

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let Bones call Spock a greenblooded shitbrained hobgoblin fuckwaffle dick, there is no other use for the R-rating in Star Trek, I will not accept explicit sex or gore

She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, tilting his head back, and he shudders, his eyes closing involuntarily. The suit is a bit like a sensory deprivation tank: after being in it for so long, his skin is hypersensitive to even the lightest touch.

“You’re hot,” she tells him.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he quips.

When she musses his hair, it’s too much to stand, thousands of tiny needles piercing every nerve ending simultaneously—yet his body craves it, in that way that Tony has always instinctively wanted more than he can handle.

He hooks his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans and pulls her towards him, pressing his cheek to the front of her sweatshirt. It’s so completely against the rules, breaking all of her carefully-defined circles of engagement, and there’s a moment where he thinks she might pull away—but then she rubs her palms over his shoulder blades and halfway down his back, embracing, caressing. Everything is very still, and the only sounds in the entire house are the slow slide of skin against skin and her deep, even breathing.

Being held by her feels good, but it’s still not enough, and Tony pushes his hands up under the sweatshirt. She isn’t wearing anything underneath. He’s shivering uncontrollably; her warmth only makes him realize how cold he is in all the places where they aren’t touching.

“Hey,” she says—but it’s not a protest, exactly; more an inquiry.

He holds onto her hips as he rises to his feet, moving his hands up her body as if he’s climbing her in stages. He tugs at the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it up, up, over her head and off. He feels so raw that the brushed cotton is like sandpaper, but Pepper’s skin is like silk, and he fills his hands with it, over and over again. It’s as though he’s trying to memorize her—even though his kinetic memory is absolutely perfect, and always has been.

“Tony—”

He kisses her open mouth, hard, swallowing whatever comment she was about to make. He can feel her heart hammering wildly, a tiny fluttering bird in a cage of muscle and bone. He’s never thought of Pepper as fragile, until now, but she is. They both are.

“Please,” he says roughly. What he means to say next is, I need this, but what comes out instead is, “I need you.”

-- “Drive”

I missed this last night???

But oh god. I think they’d just be so easy. Cause they’ve already lived though the hard stuff. So coming home at the end of the day to each other is a joy they don’t take for granted.

And like he worries about her so much??? but he’s unwaveringly there for her despite his fear because he recognizes that it’s just how he feels however unwarranted it may be, because she can take care of herself. But when she comes home bloody? Steve’s busting out the first aid kit even though she’ll heal just fine without it (she bought it for him). And he doesn’t put on a good face when she tells him she’ll be alright, he already knows she will.

He lets her fight her own battles (the real kind) but he’s happy to fight a long side her too. She makes him feel needed, even if he knows she could do it alone. They get super excited when they get to go on missions together.

And it’s Diana that likes to sleep in. Steve is always up early, busy with whatever needs to be done around the house and she has to coerce him back under the covers some mornings. But they have coffee eventually and hold hands when they walk to the market.

also they’re in love.