#starker ncc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Note

If you are okay with it, I was wondering if you could do a body switch soulmate au. When you first make eye contact with your soulmate you switch bodies. You stay in each other's bodies for 24 hours. I feel like this could cause some shenanigans on both sides. Tony hasn't had to be taught anything in awhile and Peter doesn't know how to run a company.

I was a little apprehensive about this idea at first but honestly? I adore it. I am afraid, however, I took this away from the ‘humor’ pathway and plopped it straight down into ‘light angst’. Please accept my apologies for that - And I’d be happy to write something more lighthearted if this doesn’t hit the spot. Keeping your own emotions and mindset out of what you write is hard sometimes.

Slight AU in that they meet differently to CW.

TW: Light angst | Slight hurt

He was going to lose his fucking mind. He could feel each one of his IQ points disintegrating as he stared at the board (an actual digital board, what fucking year were they in? 2015?) and tapped his pen restlessly on the desk. He hadn’t been to school since he was eighteen. The last time he’d been in a classroom was January, giving a motivational speech to Princeton graduates.

He felt too small and too stifled and if this woman pronounced Epinephrine wrong one more time, he was going to launch his desk at her and snap that stupid board in half.

Because he could do that, now. Displays of sheer power. Because Peter Parker had been bitten by a genetically modified spider and Tony was currently occupying Peter’s body.

Soulmates were so, so overrated.

“Hey, wonder kid. Tap that pen one more time” the girl to his left whispered, and Tony shot her a cool side-eye. MJ quirked a brow at him, equally unimpressed, and nodded to the board. Tony scowled but knew the effect was ruined by the soft, pretty baby-face he currently wore. Curse Peter and his lopsided brows and his huge eyes. Curse soulmates for existing.

MJ was thus far the only one who’d noticed The Switch. It was only sheer coincidence that Peter and Tony both had brown eyes of a similar enough shade that the telling switch of eye colour between soulmates hadn’t given them away. MJ, however, was astoundingly attuned into her best friend, and it had only taken three minutes in her presence for her scowl at him and ask who the fuck was wearing her friend’s meatsuit. Tony had to begrudgingly admit that he could see why her and Peter were good friends. She’d looked unimpressed at his claim until he’d pulled out his (Peter’s) phone to show the frantic texts from that morning, and then she’d huffed, rolled her eyes, and dragged him to first period.

He thought lunch would be a reprieve when it came, but instead he found himself staring with growing dismay at a tray of food that he’d refuse even if he was a prisoner, blanching in disgust when a sloppy excuse for a mac’n’cheese was dumped into one of the slots. “I’m going to die” he complained, ushered along by an unsympathetic MJ. “This is cruel. This is inhumane. Dogs don’t even get fed this”.

“Yeah, well. You’re a billionaire, so. Put up or shut up. I have no sympathy for capitalist elitists”. And, wow, rude. But understandable. He sank down onto one of the bench seats and tried to stop his stomach from rolling at the way the meal wobbled when it was set down. He’d been poking at it for several moments, largely ignored by MJ, when a shadow fell over his table. He looked up and stared with disinterest at the sneering figure above him, before he sighed.

“Which one are you, then? Neb? Flake?”

“Flash” the form above him frowned, and Tony waved a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, whatever. Class killed off half my IQ points and I’m not wasting the rest on you. Off you pop”. He turned back to his pitiful excuse of a meal, prodding the macaroni distrustfully with his fork. The boy besides him gaped, flustered, before turning on his heel and stomping off. When Tony glanced up, the girl was looking appraisingly over her book at him.

“Maybe you should leave your balls behind. Peter could do with them” she noted, before dropping her gaze again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“How much money does he actually have?”

“Sir’s total net worth including assets, liabilities and investments are currently estimated at just short of a trillion, Mr. Parker. In terms of ‘real time currently’ Sir has £515,268,385,012 as of the current hour”.

Peter was gonna pass out. He was wearing the body of a man with five-hundred billion in the bank. He’d known Tony Stark was rich, obscenely and un-necessarily so, but that was a whole other level. Vaguely unsteady, he sank down on the plush couch, feeling a little green. It had already been a few hours since waking, but he had yet to get used to the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, Tony Stark.

“Does that bother you?” The artificial voice asked after a moment, sounding impossibly curious. Peter hadn’t thought AI of this level possible, but here he was, talking to a voice that was more realistic than some of the living people he knew.

“Its...A shock, I guess. I mean, it does bother me, I suppose. Nobody needs that much money. That much cold cash alone could eradicate homelessness in America. But...I don’t know. Its his money, he earns it. He saves the world and stuff. I don’t know how you could put a value on some of the things he’s done”.

The AI was quiet for a moment, pensive. “Sir’s ‘profession’ is high cost also, Mr. Parker. The worth of the Mark IVII alone is £6,000,500,000”. Peter thought about it for a moment, then gave in, humming softly. He supposed in that sense, having that much money kind of didn’t matter, then, when a huge chunk of it was consumed by saving the world. He’d seen how often that suit got dinged up, and had no doubt repairs and replacing parts was costly.

“Am I allowed to get something to eat?” He asked after a moment, stomach rumbling a little. He’d spent so much time this morning freaking out and being consoled by JARVIS that he’d missed breakfast and lunch had slipped him by.

“Of course, Mr. Parker. Several components of the kitchen are automated, but I am capable of guiding through any recipes or devices you are unfamiliar with”.

JARVIS had apparently activated something called ‘Romeo and Juliet Protocol’ when it had been revealed that Tony had been Switched, and a large majority of the Tower was closed off and protected. Peter couldn’t leave the penthouse and JARVIS had strict control of everything, even down to the doors. Peter was happy enough to just sit there and wait it out, though. As amazing as being here was, snooping was rude, especially when what he could find could potentially compromise the entire world.

He chose to make a simple, small sandwich which involved nothing more than a single knife and plate, marvelling at the giant fridge and the ridiculous amount of food within. Apparently Mr. Stark had a chef that stopped by once every other day with prepared meals, and was on-call for whenever he required a fresh meal without having to cook it. The produce was organic and far different to the sad, wilting lettuce that could be found at the local Cheap Fresh.

Technically, if it was plausible, when you Switched you were supposed to follow a specific protocol set up by the Government, but Mr. Stark had ultimately lost his entire mind at discovering his soulmate was fourteen and had immediately demanded Peter stay locked up like Rapunzel while he pretended to be him for the day to throw off suspicion. Peter couldn’t deny that had hurt a little, but he understood it. Soulmates or not it would be the scandal of the century - Tony would be called all sorts of things at best and investigated at worst, and the nature of their age difference meant a lifetime of interference and monitoring by the Government and protective services. He knew it was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened, to hide it from the world. Tony had suggested a private agreement, a ridiculous sum of money in exchange for Peter’s silence.

He realised he’d been staring morosely at his plate when JARVIS prompted him softly, and he sighed, taking a bite. There was no physical remote for the TV but JARVIS helped him to access a cache of movies and he settled on Inception, his weakness for Tom Hardy and Leonardo DiCaprio soothing the ache of his new reality.

“Am I allowed to ask what running a business is like?” He asked after a while, head balanced on his palm.

“In what regard, Mr. Parker?”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, I’m fifteen. I don’t know how to run a company, let alone run a company and be a superhero. What kinda stuff does he do? Does he attend meetings? Does he fly around the world on company retreats like in the movies?”

JARVIS sounded lightly amused when he replied. “Sir has delegated much of the daily company operation amongst several trusted employees, but he is still the namesake, owner and CEO of Stark Industries. He does attend frequent meetings, but most of Sir’s ‘flying around the world’ is done for leisure or Iron Man related activity”.

“Sir spends most of his time in the lab, conducting important work for both his priorities. Sir also does a respectable amount of charity work, investment work and supportive work. I believe his latest venture is funding the entirety of MIT’s PhD graduate projects”.

Wow. That was...That would be a lot of money. And being supported by someone like Tony Stark was bound to be something to boast about, something that would fluff up your resume a little.

“Does he enjoy it?” Peter asked after a moment, fingertips raising absently to the arc reactor in his chest. It ached constantly, a low-level background pain that never quite faded out of touch, the odd sensation of a gaping maw in his chest something that had made him heave earlier that morning. Mr. Stark was tired, burnt out, but still going. It made Peter want to spend his twenty-four hours just sleeping, to try and soothe the man’s headache.

“Sir finds great gratification in his duties” JARVIS replied quietly, though he did not specify which. Peter gave a hum and succumbed to the desire to nap, curled up on the corner of the couch with Inception fading quietly into the background.

He ate again when he woke up, and blinked when he saw the time. Mr. Stark’s phone had been heavily locked down, but he could still access the message channel between this number and his own. The messages there were disheartening.

Told your hot Aunt I’m staying at that Nate kids house tonight. I’ll be coming to the Tower, but you won’t see me. I’ll stay on the level below.

Sorry, kid. Seeing someone else wearing me like a Givenchy suit is just too head-spinning.

JARVIS will keep you safe up there. We switch back at midnight, so try and get some sleep. You’ll wake up as yourself and I’ll get the plan in motion.

“JARVIS, when was the last time Mr. Stark cried?” He asked timidly, and the AI was silent for a moment.

“Four years ago, Mr. Parker”.

“Oh,” he breathed out, vision blurring. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m about to ruin that” and he let the teardrops fall.

206 notes · View notes

starkerisendgame · 4 years

Note

Hi! This is weird to ask but can you make a starker fic with Peter being a camboy and he doesn't know that his idol is watching his shows. Eventually when Tony figures out that Peter is Spider-Man, he goes to Peters apartment like in the movie and they chat. After the whole civil war is over, Tony proposes to be Peters Sugar daddy. P.s. Love your fics 😘❤

I hope this is what you wanted! I’m so sorry WIPs are taking me a long time, I’m working across three accounts and I’m finishing up in college for the semester. Thank you sm for such an invigorating, exciting prompt!

[P.2]

Struggling financially sucked in general. Being a struggling student was even worse; because supplies weren’t cheap and textbook price tags made him whimper and there was only so much ramen a guy could eat before looking at the packets made him want to headbutt a metal spork.

Arguably worse, though, was being a struggling student who spent most of his nights running around as Spiderman, using expensive chemicals for his web formula (there was only so much he could steal from the school) and constantly having to repair his suit. Not to mention the eye-watering medical bills on the very rare times he actually dragged himself to hospital.

All in all, whilst he enjoyed his life; he also spent most of it envying the people who didn’t have to choose between their water bill and a new winter coat. Or patching up their secret superhero suit and eating something other than instant noodles for the rest of the month. When he’d received a message on his Instagram account from a supposed ‘director of entertainment’, alongside a link to what had turned out to be sexual camshow website, well. He’d almost immediately marked it as spam and moved on.

Except.

Peter had always been complimented on his looks. His ‘pretty face’ and the lithe way his body had developed, trim little waist and strong arms. His plush mouth and his wide eyes. At first it was as a young child, doe-eyed and chubby-cheeked. How cute other parents would coo, prodding at his long lashes and his tight little curls.

As a young teen, there had been some negatives thrown in. Sneers at his slightly feminine looks. Though it hadn’t stopped him from brawling about on the football field or going through that horrible phase where he didn’t give two genuine fucks about his clothing. Girls had asked if he wore mascara, if he curled his hair, had giggled over how pretty he was.

As a young adult, Peter’s looks were both a bane and a privilege. He had endless compliments, advances, all the sex he could want (and didn’t accept). People bought him drinks or let him buy the last of something at a bat of his lashes. And in turn, people sneered at him and called him gay. Told him he needed to ‘man up’ and that a face like that didn’t belong on a boy. He got carded for everything and the time the delivery guy for his dildo asked him for ID would forever be the single worst moment of his life.

And the sexual remarks…Well. Peter stared at his phone, at the site address typed into the search bar but unpressed, biting nervously at his lip. He’d been told before he’d be good at porn. That he was good looking enough to do things like sell nudes, or model. And it brought in a lot of money, even for basic stuff, right?

He hit send.

And that was how Tony found SpiderTwink2001. Not very creative on Peter’s part, but then again, the boy hadn’t actually expected his profile to go anywhere. At first it was filled with meh quality shots from his phone. Awkward playing the camera and fumbled editing as he learned.

But then he taught himself and used what spare money he could find doing odd-jobs and as thank yous from the people he saved as Spiderman and bought himself a pretty basic DSLR recording camera. Some mid-quality editing software and his videos became clearer. Smoother. He learned how to talk as though the camera was his partner and learned what angles worked.

By the end of the year, SpiderTwink2001 was the 55th most popular blog on the entire site, and Tony Stark was invested.

He hadn’t meant to find it. Not at first. Well. He’d been looking for porn, obviously, but he’d stumbled across Peter’s blog after searching for close up videos, full on scotch and overcome with the sudden desire to watch a cute little ass stretch open around a cock.

He was barely on page three by the time he found the video, apparently one of the guy’s most popular shoots. It begun with a shot of his lower back and the fat, round swell of his ass, sitting above one of the largest dildos Tony had seen in a while. A little bubble in the lower hand corner of the video informed him the toy was almost four inches in circumference, and almost eight inches in length. His own cock, of similar measurement, immediately made its presence known.

The boy begun to sink down in a controlled, slow movement, the camera at just the perfect angle to catch the toy’s shimmery blue body disappearing slowly, so slowly into the welcome embrace. The softest, sweetest moan Tony had ever heard drifted from the holo-screen, high and keening as the boy just kept sinking down, swallowing the toy inch by inch. The camera zoomed in as the boy then begun to lean forwards, bending the dildo and giving the camera a HD view of where it was hidden in the plush depths of his ass.

“Kid’s good” Tony grunted, digging a heel into the bulge of his cock. Knew how to perform. The kid was breathy but not the overly fake every-second-of-the-video moan/scream sounds that most porn contained. Just the odd sound at suitable intervals that had Tony sinking lower in his bed, thighs parting as he kneaded lazily at his arousal.

The boy rode the toy at a torturous pace, so much so that even Tony was impatient in his pleasure, intent on watching the video until it ended, but not wanting to cum too quickly into it. The boy’s raw little rim stretched around the toy, rosy and tight as he bounced and ground in turn. Greedily clinging to the toy on each upwards motion, swallowing it down with ease on each downward. He was a pretty thing, shaved and clean with tight, round little balls. Strong thighs when the video panned out a little.

About mid-way through Tony let his head fall back, lifted his hips to let his cock flop free of his boxers and against his hip, his own pre-cum hot on his skin as he reached down, wrapped long fingers around a longer length and squeezed just enough to stave the ache. On the screen the face-less boy had sunk deep onto the dildo and was rocking on it, no doubt grinding his prostate as just visible between his legs, he pumped his cock in time to his movements.

The boy was letting out desperate little unfs with each motion, quiet, almost like he was not home alone. Tony stroked himself firm and slow, more feeling the length than doing anything about the way it drooled over his stomach. The video still had a way to go, and he wanted to be there for the end of it.

Tony breathed out as he watched the boy, who was riding his sweet spot like he’d die if he didn’t. Tony found himself responding each time a sweet, high little moan or whimper came from his speakers, stripping his cock in time to the way the boy’s hips began to twist and grind faster.

And then the boy was slowing, staving off his pleasure, and rising to his knees. Tony was about to spit a curse - because how cruel was this? - When the camera cut, and the scene stole his breath away, fingers locking around the base of his cock.

Now, the boy’s front was to the camera, hips pushed forwards, low on his haunches so the dildo was bent backwards into his pert little body, the boy’s round, small balls resting on its base. His cock was a true thing of beauty, petite and slender, cut neatly. The tip was dusky pink and sheened with slick.

His hips rolled sensually five more times, and that pretty, pink dick jerked against a taut stomach and prominent hips, a cracked cry filling Tony’s ears and pearly globs of cum splattered against that slender stomach and began to dribble down the muscles slowly. Tony spat a curse and his hips hips lifted in response, barely managing to lift his shirt out of the way of his own cum.

It got worse from there. He followed SpiderTwink2001, and found it was his go-to blog. When he was tense and full of adrenaline after missions. When he came home from Galas in need of stress relief. When some little shit riled him up with no intentions of following through.

That pert little ass and pretty little cock almost became akin to an addiction. Tony set up a software that would send him an alert on any new videos, found that he’d more or less abandoned any and all other porn in favour of watching the boy, who never showed his face but was still the body behind all of Tony’s wet dreams.

He was in a meeting when his phone vibrated softly, just enough to draw his attention, in the specific three-beat pattern that he’d designated to SpiderTwink2001′s alerts. He sucked in a sharp breath and risked a glance across the room, making sure that Pepper was watching the slides and not him before he risked sneaking his phone from his pocket, just enough to see the top portion of the screen.

SpiderTwink2001: Face Reveal.

Tony nearly dropped his phone, leg jerking up and knee banging into the underside of the table. He spat a curse, cringing as he looked up to find the rest of the room eyeing him warily.

Except for Pepper. She eyed him like she was mentally throttling him with great sincerity.

“Lab stuff. Continue” he dismissed, waving a hand. The poor marketing employee was only three words into her sentence when he abruptly stood. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Continue, I just won’t be here”.

“Tony fucking Stark, sit down or I-”

“Will be receiving a very big gift basket very soon. Do enjoy the lunch!” Tony hastened to cut her off, darting passed before Pepper’s manicured nails could snag his arm. He could feel the irritation radiating off her, and vowed to upgrade her gift basket from ‘very big’ to ‘the biggest’.

He was barely in the safety of his own penthouse when he was waving up the holo screen, hands already unbuckling his suit pants as he moved towards the expensive couch. As an afterthought he asked JARVIS to lock down his floor, sinking onto the plush seat with a groan as he set SpiderTwink’s video to the screen.

It began with just a body shot, the boy naked save for a pair of sleek black shorts, like he’d been at the gym or in bed before deciding to make this. And then he began to talk. SpiderTwink’s voice was soft and lilted, a little higher than most men’s, but delicious to Tony’s ears. He’d heard that voice mewling out ‘Daddy, please!’ More times than he could count.

“Okay. Uh. So I mean this is kinda two things? At once. Two reveals, I guess. Firstly, I’ve decided to branch out into camming, and doing live shows. Which is kinda why I’m doing this video”.

Tony’s fingers stilled over his buckle, both invested and mildly disappointed. Clearly this wasn’t going to be a porny kind of face reveal, but it still meant getting to see the visage that belonged to every wet fantasy from the past four months. He let his hands fall away and shifted to get comfortable instead, listening intently.

“And, uh. I mean, I can’t really stop any of you trying to like, stalk me on Facebook and stuff, really. But…Please don’t? Its kinda weird, and-”

The talking continued for a little while, endless, cute rambling that bounced from topic to topic. Tony increased the volume and went to get himself a scotch, buckling his belt again as he went. He was back on the couch when the boy sucked in a sharp breath, stomach muscles flexing, and reached for the camera.

Tony brought the scotch to his lips for a slow pull, and inhaled the burning amber liquid when the single prettiest boy he’d ever seen blinked owlishly at the camera, nervous and shy.

He had a slender face, with a strong jaw and prominent cheeks. That was about as much as Tony could notice behind the blurring of his eyes, waving for the video to pause as he hacked a series of coughs, thumping at his chest.

“Sir, do you need-”

“No! No” Tony wheezed, shaking his head. Several more moments of feeling like someone had dropped a petrol bomb into his lungs, and he sank back against the couch, wiping his eyes and motioning for the video to continue. SpiderTwink gave him a sheepish, meek smile, like apologising for the incident.

“So. Uh. Hi”.

Hi indeed.

The boy had slightly mismatched eyebrows, one ticking upwards midway through, but it gave him a sweet, inquisitive look. He had a wide mouth and even wider eyes, dark brown and framed by thick lashes. He screamed pretty as much as strong, as Tony knew from his lithe, toned figure. Tony paused the video just to stare at him a little longer, transfixed.

Somehow, knowing he was so invested in someone so attractive only served to make it even better. The kid almost seemed too good to be true, such a perfect little body and a pretty face to boot. His fingers itched to type the command, to find out everything he could on the boy, but whilst he was somewhat of a pervert, he wasn’t a creep. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against his whiskey tumbler.

“JARVIS. I want to be notified the instant this kid goes live. Every single time. I don’t care if I’m mid-battle or mid-meeting” Tony instructed, then he paused, and raised his free hand to rub at his jaw. “And hide any financial connections to this from Pep. And Rhodey. In fact…Make another ghost account. I don’t want another lecture”.

“Of course, Sir” JARVIS responded diplomatically, and Tony shifted, clicking off the video and onto one of his personal favourites. His cock had immediately perked up at the kid’s face, and wasn’t going anywhere soon. Besides, now that he could imagine that pretty little mouth and those gorgeous eyes while watching the kid fuck himself stupid, the videos were just so much better.

“Lock down all communications. I don’t want any interruptions for the next 60 minutes” Tony commanded as he began to open his belt buckle, tongue sliding across his lower lip in anticipation.

426 notes · View notes

starkerficlibrary · 4 years

Note

I was wondering if there were any priest/altar boy fics out there for starker? It could be darker or more light, but I prefer dark

Hello ❤

I haven’t been able to find any that are specifically Priest x Altar Boy but here are some darker Religious/Priest/Catholic works that I found in order of ‘darkness’: A Sinner’s Prayer I’m Not God Song of Songs

You may also be interested in this worship/God AU rec list.

-J

#recommendations #recommendation #fic recs #starker #ironspider #starker fanfiction #ironspider fanfiction #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #starker: alternate universe #starker: au #starker: worship #starker: priests #starker: religion #starker: ncc #stark: ncu

28 notes · View notes

prettyboy-parker · 4 years

Text

camboy!peter who has a private snapchat where he frequently puts videos of tony fucking him on his story.

it’s never a full body shot, usually just peter’s blissed out (and cum-covered) face as tony pounds into him from behind.

“oh, ngh, daddy, it’s so big! your-ah, cock fills me up so-oh good”

and all the camera picks up is the slap of skin on skin and tony’s grunts and moans.

#okay now i really want to write a camboy au #because it’s so peter #ughhhh #tw: daddy kink #starker #ncc #camboy!peter au #my shit #nff

333 notes · View notes

cherriontop · 4 years

Text

A New Years Kiss

Here’s a random thought that just popped up into my head regarding the holidays. Drink responsibly and stay safe!

Warnings: Peter’s age is not specified, possible underage, implied drinking, mentions of abuse

King Tony waits anxiously on the balcony for the boy he wants his new years kiss from.

There’s a hand on his back, and Tony doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Pepper. The hand rubs gently at his back, then moves to his shoulder as she stands at his side. She doesn’t say anything, laying his head almost on top of her hand, letting the silence settle comfortably over them. Tony’s eyes wander the dark landscape, searching for the figure he was becoming familiar with. His mask had long been taken off, set off to the side on the balcony railing. When he finally turns to Pepper, he sees that her’s has been loosened enough to be pulled to the top of her head.

“People are starting to ask where you are,” Pepper informed, giving him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “You should be in there with them, not out here. After all, you did throw this party and invited everyone in the kingdom.”

Tony let his eyes wander back to the gates, which remained open and empty. “He promised he’d be here,” Tony answers, voice nearly carried away in the wind. Pepper smiles in sympathy, giving him another squeeze.

“Well, then I’ll let you be.” She leans up to press a lingering kiss to Tony’s cheek, patting lightly at his back before she heads back inside. Tony sighs, then leans against the balcony, letting his eyes fall back to the gates. There’s still no movement, and Tony feels his heart sink. He knows the thing he and Peter have is far from official, and they’ve barely been together. They’ve only talked and met three times, and Tony hadn’t even seen Peter’s face yet.

They’d come across each other at every masquerade party Tony had thrown in the last year, and as much as he liked getting to know Peter before seeing what he looked like, he was dying to see him. To actually see him behind the mask. But Peter had promised he’d be at every masquerade party Tony would ever have, and so far he hadn’t failed.

But tonight was New Years Eve, and Tony had foolishly been hoping he’d share his first kiss with Peter as the time ran out.

With another sigh, Tony grabbed his mask, turning from the balcony to head back into the party. It would be rude, after all, to avoid the guests he’d invited to his castle.

“Leaving so soon, your highness?” A voice called behind him. Tony spun around, his eyes going wide with surprise as his mouth spreads into a smile. Peter is there, his chest heaving a little as he perched across the railing, one leg dangling down towards the balcony. He’s dressed in a simple white suit that’s streaked with dirt and age, and small feathered wings sprouting from behind his back. There’s a golden halo above his head, and a white mask obscuring his face.

“Peter,” Tony breathes, letting his mask fall from his fingers and stepping towards Peter. The boy crushes easily against his chest, but he makes no complaint, hugging Tony tightly around the waist. “You came. I was so worried that you wouldn’t show up.”

Peter presses closer to Tony, hands fisting lightly in the expensive silk of Tony’s shirt. Had it been anyone else, Tony would have scolded them, but he was just happy to see the boy. “She wouldn’t let me go. I had such a hard time sneaking out.” Tony catches sight of a bruise under the collar of Peter’s shirt, and anger stirs in his gut.

“You know I could have her charged for abuse. You could be safe here with me, and you would never have to see her again,” Tony insisted, one hand coming up to cup the back of Peter’s neck, fingers burying in Peter’s hair.

“I couldn’t do that to her,” Peter whispers, only loud enough for Tony to hear. “She took me in when I lost everything. She needs me, and I know she treats me horribly, but she needs someone.” Tony’s eyes burn with tears, and he presses a hard kiss to the crown of Peter’s head.

“When you’re ready, I’ll be here,” he promised, pulling back just enough to give them space to breathe. Peter’s lips are a soft pink, and his eyes are endless pools of chocolate. Despite the mask covering most of his face, he’s more beautiful than anything Tony had ever seen, and he’d traveled many kingdoms.

Shyly, Peter leans up on his toes, his palms braced on Tony’s chest, and his lips brush almost innocently against the king’s. Tony doesn’t hesitate to rest his hands on Peter’s slim waist, crushing his lips against the peasant boy’s. He moans quietly, backing Peter up until he’s against the balcony railing, the stone pressed into his back.

Their hands wander, pressing against every curve of one another’s bodies, exploring every inch of skin showing. Peter tugs at Tony’s overcoat, and without a thought, Tony sheds it. Pepper will have a fit cleaning it later, but Tony’s too focused on the way Peter’s hands move to care.

When the need for air is more desperate than their kisses, Tony parts enough to see Peter’s eyes again. “Your mask,” he gasps, two fingers coming up to the edge of the mask. “Take it off. Please. Let me see your face.” Peter seems to consider it, but a small, sad smile crosses his face.

“Not tonight, my king,” he answers, taking Tony’s hand to kiss his fingers. “I just want to be with you.” Tony doesn’t press more, holding Peter close to his chest. Inside the castle, the people get louder, and Peter turns his head up to look at the other man. “Sounds like it’s getting close to the new year.”

Tony hums softly, kissing the wild curls on top of the boy’s head. “Indeed. You going to stick around long enough for a new years kiss?”

“Depends. Do I get to start the new year in your arms?”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather us be,” Tony insisted, picking up the beginning of the countdown from the chanting inside.

“This might be too early, but I-” Peter looked away shyly, and Tony can almost imagine him blushing under the mask. “I think I love you.”

Tony’s heart beats frantically in his chest, and when he tries to swallow, it goes down weird. “I love you, too, and I don’t care if it’s too early. I can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop throwing these goddamn parties hoping just to see you again.”

Peter giggles, and it only makes Tony go weak in the knees. “My mother can’t stop coming to these parties with hopes to woo you, and it gives me the perfect opportunity to sneak away and come see you.”

“I hope that you’ll realize soon that you deserve better than her and you’ll come here to stay,” Tony whispers, hearing the crowd count down from five. When they hit one, he cupped Peter’s face and pressed his lips to Peter’s, feeling the boy melt into his arms. There’s hands against his chest again, and then the space between them disappears. Tony pours his love and passion into the kiss with hopes that Peter will realize that he’s loved and wanted right here in the castle--right here in Tony’s open arms.

The breath they share is warm when they pull apart, and Peter’s eyes are glazed over and unfocused, a dopey smile on his face. Tony can’t help but kiss the boy, speaking against his lips. “When you’re ready to come home, I’ll be waiting.”

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long.

#mcu #marvel #tony stark #peter parker #starker #tony x peter #tony/peter #king tony #peasant peter #masquerade #tw:abuse #ncc #non canon #medival au #au #pepper potts

78 notes · View notes

starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Note

Do you take prompts? Because I would love to read something about prof!tony or prof!peter giving an online lecture while the other one sucks his dick under the table 🥺

This was a hella *chefs kiss* prompt and honestly, thank you so much for bringing this to me. I loved writing this and I had so many ideas! Big love to the Discorders or listened to me ramble and brainstorm. Prof!Tony railing his twinky little husband's throat? Sign me up. The POV varies throughout.

TW: Choking | Hair pulling | Exhibitionism/Voyeurism | Mild Daddy kink

Watching Peter sleep was one of Tony's favourite parts of being married. Peter looked so soft and so young, peaceful and golden in the morning light. He was a pillow hog, but that was fine by Tony. It encouraged him to actually get out of bed. He still wanted to shake his younger self for agreeing to morning lectures.

Peter looked serene and unbearably soft as he lay there, nose pushed up a little against the rich blue pillowcase, legs wrapped loosely around Tony’s own as he blinked away the sleepiness. He’d woken up a few minutes before his alarm and had turned it off before it woke his partner. His engineering students had an upcoming online test, and he’d agreed to host a lecture over Zoom while the University was closed for extermination after a bunch of insects and rats from the Biology lab escaped.

Tony shuffled a little closer, sliding across the bed to press their cheeks together, tipping his head so he could brush a soft kiss to the smooth roundness of Peter’s cheek. Sometimes he envied the boy his age - All soft skin and lithe muscle, not a laugher line or grey hair to be found in comparison to Tony’s crinkled eyes and the grey that streaked from temple to temple.

He kissed him again, just on the slope of his brow, then the corner of his little mouth, where it was lax and parted. He let his fingertips trail Peter’s arm gently, loathe to wake him up but knowing that the moment he’d try to get up, he’d be roused anyway. He kissed him again, a little firmer, hand skimming Peter’s side and flank and the boy breathed in a little deeper, shifting to nuzzle closer.

“Good morning” Tony murmured into his cheek, scraping the rasp of his stubble along Peter’s jaw as the boy’s lashes fluttered, then lifted.

“Ugh, no. I can already sense its too early” Peter grumbled, but his eyes were shining as he turned his head, catching Tony’s mouth in a languid, slow kiss. It was as deep as it was sleepy, and Tony sucked Peter’s bottom lip briefly, skimming it with his teeth before he pulled away. If he let the boy sink his claws in now, he’d never make it to the lecture. Peter’s hand slid from the pillow to cup his jaw, thumb stroking over the edge of his stubble before it moved up, sliding into Tony’s messy bed-head and gripping, pulling him back down with a smirk.

Vixen, Tony thought, but he let the boy manhandle him into another kiss, biting his tongue in retaliation for being so sly before he pulled away again. “I only have fifteen minutes before the lecture” he reminded his husband softly, and Peter’s gaze was devilish.

“Aren’t old men supposed to cum quickly?” He teased, and Tony growled at him, raising a hand to land a swat to a pert, round asscheek.

“Brat” he informed his husband sternly, though he was smiling as he took his hand, pressing a soft kiss to the diamond ring that glittered below his knuckle. The boy alternated between wearing it on his hand and on a necklace, and it still made Tony feel warm all over to see it. To know Peter was his. He moved to rise, and Peter came after him again, pressing him down into the mattress by the chest, slinging a leg over him and crawling atop his body.

“Daddy’s brat” Peter reminded him, hips rolling in a lazy, gentle thrust. The boy was almost always hard in the morning, and his slender length nudged at Tony’s bare hip, riding the jut of the muscle before he settled his hands on Peter’s hips, stilling him with a squeeze and a gentle kiss to the cheek, before he threw the boy aside like throwing off the covers.

“Brats are always in need of an exercise in patience. Consider this one” he offered, flashing his husband a smile and a wink as he darted to his feet and out of reach. He lamented it, but he knew it was the only way he’d be presentable and ready in time for his lecture. He shuffled through making a coffee and brushing his teeth, scarfing down an apple and a peach for a quick breakfast before he roamed back into the bedroom.

Peter was sprawled atop the sheets when he walked for the closet, scrolling through his phone and looking a little more awake. He’d brushed his teeth judging by the white smear on his shirt collar, and Tony shook his head fondly as he pulled on a loose pair of slacks and a white shirt. He wasn’t going to make too much of an effort, but he also wasn’t going to make the mistake of thinking nobody could tell he wasn’t wearing any pants.

“It should only be an hour, sweetheart. Try not to die of boredom while I’m gone” he teased his husband, leaning down to press a soft, fond kiss to his forehead. He didn’t trust Peter with a kiss to the mouth, and he hurried from the room before the boy could make any pitiful protests, moving to the office space they’d converted the empty second bedroom into. He’d actually made good time, and he was settled and ready by the time the first few students popped into the Zoon call. None had made the same effort - Rumpled and sleepy and several still clearly in bed.

They talked idly as more students began to file in, and when Tony had done a count and had his full fifteen, he settled them down and loaded up the shared files, delving straight in. They went through various topics one by one, covering what each student felt insecure on. Half an hour passed quicker than he’d expected, and he looked up to find Peter in the doorway, brandishing a fresh coffee and motioning for him to take a pause.

“Alright, guys. We’ve done well so far. Lets take a quick break. Everyone come back in five minutes, okay?” He told them, and disconnected his camera and audio. He double-checked it, then pushed his chair back from the desk a little, curling an arm around Peter’s hips as he accepted the coffee held out for him with an appreciative groan. “Ugh, thank you, honey. I needed this” he admitted, leaning his head into Peter’s soft tummy, breathing in their mixed scent from his shirt.

“Mm, do you have to go back to them?” Peter asked, voice husked and low as he set Tony’s fresh mug aside and cradled his head, tugging teasingly at the hair near his nape. Tony groaned and tipped his head back, ready to tell his little slut to be patient, when Peter stooped and kissed the words from his mouth, like he knew what Tony was about to do. Tony sighed into his mouth, but accepted it, grunting when Peter shuffled to stand between his knees, hands braced on his thighs as he coaxed his mouth open.

“You - Shit. I only - Gave them - Five minutes” Tony managed between kisses, pulling away when Peter’s need to breathe gave him the opportunity. He risked a glance at the clock. Three minutes. And then Peter’s mouth was on his neck, suckling, licking, and his hand found its way into Peter’s hair unbidden, threading through the dark curls as he tipped his head. “No marks” he warned, trailing a hand up and down Peter’s side.

“Mm, I know” Peter responded against his skin, moving down to push aside his shirt collar to get at the sculped bone beneath, teeth sinking in just enough to slightly redden the flesh before he moved, sinking to his knees.

“Uh, uh. Come on, darling. I’ve gotta help them, they have a test. I can’t do the old ‘dropped connection’ this time” Tony sighed, hands moving to Peter’s shoulders to try and coax him back to his feet as their time rapidly ran out. It would probably look suspicious as it was, and his gaze was on the clock when Peter's mouth closed over his cock through his slacks, wet and warm as he laved his tongue from balls to tip. He heaved a breath, felt his traitor of s cock twitch in interest.

"Peter" he warned, because he knew instantaneously where this was going. Peter had always had a thing for Tony’s profession, and he’d lost count of how many times it had made its way into the bedroom with them. Roleplaying, Tony using Peter as stress relief after classes, the way that Peter whimpered Professor Stark between mewls.

Peter simply tipped his head to blink up at him, demure and sultry both as he settled under the desk on his knees, arms wrapping around Tony’s thighs firmly as an indication he wasn’t going anywhere as he closed his lips over where Tony’s sensitive tip lay against his thigh, suckling until the fabric of his slacks was sopping. Tony hissed a breath, looking up at his computer screen/ Most of his students were back.

Objectively, he knew this was wrong. Morally and legally both; and yet…

“Do not give me any regrets about this, Pete” he warned, voice low and promising, both as part of the ‘game’ and a subtle reminder of the very heavy real-life implications this could have. Peter’s only response was to slid his fingers up Tony’s thighs and to the zipper, dragging it down. Tony took a deep, steeling breath, adjusted himself in his seat, smoothed his hair, and hit the buttons for his audio and camera.

“Alright, munchkins. We all here? Where’s Alex? Someone text him. Okay, let’s begin from where we left off” Tony greeted them, putting careful energy into making his smile relaxed and normal as Peter shuffled between his thighs and reached into his slacks, slender fingers wrapping around his hardening cock to draw it out into the open. The cool air made him stiffen, and his gaze raked his screen for any hint of exposure. But all he saw was himself from the upper torso and onwards, staring back at himself.

As Tony kept talking, Peter ducked down under the desk, closing his pursed lips around the flared, soft tip of Tony’s cock to suckle there, tongue curling around it before dipping briefly into the slit. His mouth was soft and wet and warm and Tony knew it wouldn’t be long before his cock was truly into it, hard and flushed and leaking under Peter’s skilled touch. He shifted a little, easing his hips forwards as Peter lapped at him and let his teeth just barely scrape the skin there.

“Yes, Sheena?” He asked tersely, when one of the girls waggled her hand at the camera in a signal for his attention. As she spoke, he could feel Peter hollow his cheeks, sliding down on his length. Inch by inch he was enveloped into sloppy, warm suction and he ground his teeth, shifting on his seat again. Peter’s hand moved to press down on his thigh, a signal to sit still, and the other hand curled back around the base of his cock, thumb rubbing at the sensitive groove between his length and his balls.

Peter gave a gentle huff against him as he talked, relaxing his throat as he swallowed Tony right down until his lower lip was pressed against his balls, tongue firm and soft against the underside. He didn't suck or hollow his cheeks, just let Tony's cock rest there in the plush warmth of his throat. Tony did his best to focus on his student, clicking through several files to help answer her question.

After a short while, Peter began to slowly slide off his cock, up to the tip where he suckled softly, laving his tongue in flat, firm strokes around the spongy tip. He licked into the slit and closed his lips over the head, massaging it with his lips and bobbing his head almost like sucking on a popsicle. He made faint sounds, but they were hopefully too quiet for anyone to pick up on. Nobody looked suspicious or asked, regardless.

And then Peter was sucking him down again, cheeks hollowed and swallowing him like he was trying to suck Tony's soul out through his cock. Tony moved his hands to grip the edge of the desk, nails biting into the pine. Peter could suck dick like a top-grade pornstar when he wanted to, and today was one of those days, cheeks soft and tight against his cock, tongue flexing in little strokes, swallowing so his throat caressed and squeezed the tip of his cock. Tony ground his teeth and shifted, slipping one hand slowly from the desk top to reach under it.

Peter grasped his wrist as he searched blindly, guiding his fingertips to the corner of his mouth where Tony's cock disappeared into his throat. It was were either drool there and Tony rubbed at it gently before sliding his hand up, fisting Peter's curls and gripping tight, forcing the boy down another inch until his little body hitched with a gag.

"Mr. Stark?" Tony blinked, and realised he'd been staring intently at the screen, but not actually listening. He let go of Peter's hair, itched his side as an excuse for his lowered arm, and offered the student who'd spoken an apologetic smile as Peter began to Bob his head vigorously.

"Sorry, I just realised I forgot to pick up milk the other day. My husband will be fuming when he wakes up. Again, my apologies. Where was I?" The lie came easy and sweet through his teeth, layered with a sweet smile that made the girl quirk her lips in return, before she began to read out the practise question she was struggling with. Tony did his best to ignore the pooling warmth and pleasure in his gut, listening closely.

Peter, not to be forgotten, dragged his nails down the insides of Tony's thighs before he moved one hand to his balls, smearing the drool pooled there before he cupped them, kneading as he slid himself up and down Tony's cock. Tony could feel the slow warmth of more drool dripping down his cock as Peter swallowed and gagged a little, throat impaled. Tony sucked in a breath, the corner of his mouth twitching as he reached up, rubbed at his jaw, muffled a moan on a cough. He slouched a little in his seat so he could nudge his hips up, fucking shallowly, carefully into Peter’s mouth.

His husband let his jaw go slack around his cock, keeping just enough suction for it to be a welcoming hole to fuck into. Tony kept careful attention on his students, focused hard on his voice so it would come out sedate and even as he reached down, grasping a quick handful of soft hair and dragging Peter down as far as he could go onto his cock, holding him there as he writhed. Peter whimpered just loud enough that Tony winced and braced himself, but his students were none the wiser.

It was almost too hard to ignore it now - The steady, hot pleasure that had his thighs tense, his cock hard and flushed. Peter gave a soft gurgle around his cock as he raised his hips and pulled him down, forcing his cock as deep into that soft hole as he could, before he relented and let his husband go. He risked a glance downwards, and regretted it instantly. Peter’s cheeks were flushed, from one across his nose to the other, his eyes were a little glossy and his lips were dark and swollen, drool dripping from the lower one to the carpet.

Tony gave a low groan then masked it with another cough, forcing himself to look back up as Peter drove down on his cock, sucking like he was trying to pull a golfball through a garden hose. Tony let his hips buck carefully up into the wet heat, eyes unfocusing a little as he tensed his legs and bit his lip in order to fight the urge to fuck until he emptied his load into Peter’s willing mouth.He bit his tongue, hard, let himself fuck slowly, inch by inch into Peter’s mouth. He could feel his balls tight and heavy, knew it wouldn’t be too long. He risked another glance down, watched his cock sliding in and out, watching a little bead of pre-cum and drool slip from the corner of Peter’s mouth.

He looked up at his screen, finding the digital numbers of the clock. Peter had been on his knees for almost twenty minutes, drooling and gagging himself on Tony’s cock. The older Professor inhaled sharply as Peter closed his lips tight again, sucking Tony’s dick almost furiously, and he gave his students a brittle smile, waving a hand.

“Alright! Okay. I think we’re gonna - Yep. We’re gonna call it here. Now. You’ve all done well and I-I’m...Pleased. Email me if you have any more questions. Spend the next 48 hours studying, please” and with a final wave, he cut the connection before any of them could argue. He could feel the vibrations around his cock as Peter giggled, could hear the wet slurp as he began to pull off and he spread his thighs, reaching down to grab the boy forcefully by the hair, to dragging him down and stuffing his cock deep into his throat.

“You greedy little whore” he breathed, watching as Peter scrabbled at his thighs, lashes fluttering as he choked on Tony’s length. “Look at you, couldn’t even wait. Had to risk it all for a cock in your mouth” he softened it to fondness as he spoke, letting up on Peter’s hair so his husband could pull off enough to suck in a breath through his nose. Tony didn’t allow him much reprieve, nudging his hips up and down in shallow thrusts.

Tony let himself moan freely now, uttering a deep, guttural one as Peter swallowed and whimpered around him, making a wet noise as Tony jerked his hips up, felt Peter’s throat forced open around his cock. He let his head fall back, threading his fingers gently through Peter’s hair before he tightened his grip again, holding the boy steady as he fucked up into his throat. Peter made a punched, breathy sound and gripped at his thighs for purchase, head tilting for better access.

He used Peter’s mouth as little more than a warm fleshlight, teeth grinding as he fucked up into it, cutting off Peter’s mewls with a wet sound. The loaded spring of his orgasm was tight and heavy in his gut, building steadily, and he looked down at Peter, sliding one hand gently around his throat to feel the muscles bulge and flex as he hauled the boy onto his cock, thrusting deep into his throat, growling as his balls pulled tight against Peter’s lip, his cock twitched hard, and then he could feel himself cum, could feel the pulse of his cock against Peter’s mouth as creamy cum spilled down the back of his tongue.

It was a well stoked orgasm, a smooth wave of pleasure that rolled through him, made his eyes roll slightly as he ground into Peter’s open mouth, fucked his cum deeper until the boy convulsed a little, snorting a strained breath. When his cock had stopped pulsing and the pleasure had died to a gentle lull he relaxed his grip, let his cock slide out of Peter’s mouth. It was soaked wet with drool, smearing against his shirt when it flopped from between his lips, but Tony couldn’t find it in himself to care, looking down at his flushed, thoroughly fucked husband. Peter blinked up at him with smug demureness, lips shiny and dark like cherries, cheeks flushed, pupils blown. He made a pretty picture that way, wrecked between Tony’s legs.

“You’re gonna lick me clean, sweetheart, and then you’re gonna get to the bed, face down and ass up” he instructed him sweetly, reaching down to cup Peter’s cheek and stroke it tenderly. “And the next time I have an online class, you’re gonna sit right back there and keep my cock wet until I’m ready to use you again”.

309 notes · View notes

starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Note

I would love to read something about peter accidentally stealing a piece of Tony’s clothing without either of them noticing, but it’s something extremely valuable and everyone else (like maybe peters friends from collage or something) notice and are very confused. Would you write something like this? (It’s totally fine if not)

This was the actual cutest idea, and I loved writing this! I hope this is the kind of cute-awkward you were going for. Thank you sm for sending me this, honey! I’m an absolute sucker for clothes sharing. This begins as unest and is AU from AOU+. Peter is 18+

The first time it happened, it was a slate grey shirt with silver-leaf decor, the front brazenly depicting a boy with a wolf’s muzzle face. There was an oil stain on the right sleeve where it fluttered about his bicep, and a charred hole on the hem where Tony had skewered it with a soldering iron. Peter had just lost his own shirt to a grinding machine, and had accepted the shirt that Tony had offered him thoughtlessly, promising to bring it back on his next visit.

Tony had waved him off and told him not to worry - The shirt was old and he had plenty others. Peter had thought nothing of it, not bothering to change as he collapsed into his bed. He had an early lecture in the coming morning, and he’d overstayed at Tony’s. Again.

He still lacked any thought on it when he awoke to his final alarm shrieking at him insistently, and he scrambled out of bed, nearly swallowing his toothbrush as he floundered to get ready. He skid to a halt in front of his bedroom mirror, eyed what he’d gone to sleep in, and deemed it acceptable. The shirt was clean - He’d only worn it to bed that night, and his jeans surprisingly matched it well.

It was like any other morning, until he’d been in line at the lunch hall for a coffee, and the girl walking past had stuttered to a halt, eyes wide. “Oh, my, God. Is that a Yohji Yamamoto?!” She’d squealed, eyes wide and round, and Peter had blinked across at her, sleep-dead and at a loss. “That thing is like, a thousand dollars! Its limited edition!” She continued, and Peter glanced down, ready to defend his piece of shit shirt.

Except.

It wasn’t just a piece of shit, ratty old shirt, was it? No, because it had come from billionaire Tony Stark’s closet. He cringed, lip curling as he stared at the shimmering silver pattern. Ah, fuck. How could he explain this? Several people had noticed her loud speech and were staring, curiosity piqued. And, why wouldn’t they? Scruffy Peter Parker in a thousand dollar shirt.

“I don’t think so” he barked nervously, before his brain had even come up with a plausible explanation. “I got this at a thrift store! Yeah. A thrift store, so. I mean, if it looks like some fancy shirt, its definitely a knock off” he laughed nervously, clamouring desperately for his coffee before he cast her an awkward smile and shuffled off, fleeing the lunch hall.

Luckily, he had an old zip-up in his bag, and he tugged it on over the shirt. It meant he boiled in his last classes, but nobody else asked him about his thousand dollar shirt. He drove home with the windows down and the AC on, and when he pulled up outside his apartment, he paused, and rummaged for his phone. It took almost ten minutes to find the shirt he was wearing, but when he did, he sucked in air through his teeth and shoved his phone away. Yikes. A thousand? Closer to two thousand.

The second time it happened, Peter had been to breakfast with Tony before classes. The older man had presented him with a beautiful custom Rolex, complete with deep, red rubies and rich blue kyanite. An early birthday present Tony had said, clasping it around his wrist with a warm, satisfied smirk. Peter’s birthday was months away, but Tony wouldn’t hear anything of it.

He’d grown so used to the weight of it in between eating and talking that he’d completely forgotten about it by the time he arrived at his morning study session, sinking down at the library table and pulling out his books. MJ was already there, and Peter offered her a shy smile as he kicked his bag under the table. They were tentative friends after getting to know each other near the end of their final year, and though Peter had outgrown his initial crush, he was still glad she’d gone to the same college as him and Ned.

He was just pulling out a pen from his case when MJ shifted. “Hey, nerd. What’s on your wrist?” And Peter’s heart seized then skipped when he cast a careless glance aside and watched the sharp halogen lights glint off the brand new gold and precious stones. His first thought was ‘aw, fuck. Not again’ and then his second was ‘how the fuck can I explain a Rolex that costs more than this building?’

“Fake!” He yelped, and ducked his head when a sprightly girl two tables across leaned forwards to glare at him. “I mean, y’know. My Aunt...Bought it for me. Thought she’d found a real Rolex on Ebay for $40, y’know? Ha. Some people” he coughed to clear his throat and to hide the fact that his voice had risen several pitches before he reached for his wrist, tugging his sleeve down over it.

When he looked up, she levelled him with a flat, unimpressed look that clearly stated she thought he was a few marbles short. He spent the rest of the study session twitchy and tense, and she spent the rest of it reading and glancing at him now and then like she was afraid he might start frothing at the mouth. When the hour was finally over, Peter ran back to his car, wrapped the watch in several soft tissues from the restroom and hid it in the glove compartment.

MJ didn’t mention the lack of watch, but she did pointedly stare at his arm for the rest of the day. It made him prickly and jumpy; a thousand worst-case scenarios running through his mind. Nobody knew he was Spiderman, and since joining college he’d done his best to keep the ‘Stark Industries Internship’ thing on the down-low. That was relatively easy, since most people hadn’t believed it in the first place. As for Spiderman - The only people who knew were May and Ned. He kind of intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.

He was vigilant then, for the next few weeks. He inspected himself carefully before getting out of his car at college, and he always made sure to remind Ned to remind him any time he wore anything that a struggling college student wouldn’t. All in all, after three months had passed with only a few close calls, he felt pretty secure.

That was, naturally, his doom.

But! In his defence, Tony Stark had kissed him. On the mouth. And not by accident, either. One moment Peter was talking about his Chemistry class and how the next Tony Stark was kissing him, lips warm and a little chapped, stubble pricking at the corners of his mouth.

They'd kissed for almost an hour after that, gripping onto each other, learning what made the other twitch and moan. Tony liked his lip sucked and Peter liked his hair pulled and it had led to eager grinding and groping. Peter had never been more loathe to leave, but he had dinner plans with Aunt May that night.

Their first kiss had evolved into kissing every time they were together, chaste and shy or filthy and wet like teenagers. Groping turned into Mr. Stark jacking him off and sucking him down, to Peter sucking him in return and to slowly working their way towards Peter getting done up the ass for the first time (four times, actually. Peter was insatiable and Tony had been more than happy to oblige).

It had been a Thursday night, though, and Peter had a mid-day lecture on Friday. His own shirt had been used as a rag from the first and third rounds, so he shyly accepted when Tony offered him an old, soft black one. It was ratty and stained and he thought nothing of wearing it to his lecture, scribbling notes furiously and paying attention because they had a test in two weeks time.

Towards the end of the lecture, he felt something brush at itch at the back of his neck, and he twisted to find the girl from the lunch hall sat directly behind him, her arm retreating. He blinked in surprise; he hadn't even recognised that she was in his class at the time.

"You had fluff caught on your shirt" she noted casually, though her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. Peter gave her a weak smile, mouthed 'thanks' and turned back around.

It was relatively forgotten until he was done for the day, paused near the doors to try and find his power bank. Footsteps echoed through the hall, and he looked up they stopped near him. Standing there was the girl from his class, and he offered her a warm but puzzled smile. "Hi?" He asked after a pause where she simply stared at him with folded arms.

"I know your secret" she announced, and he nearly dropped his bag, grumbling to catch it as his heart ticked up. That could mean anything - Tony? Spiderman? Even just the spider bite could be disastrous. He'd have scientists experimenting on him and then they'd know and-

"Secret?" He barked out a little hysterically, straightening. "What secret? I don't have any. Not any worth exploiting, anyway. I mean, I peed in the pool once, but I was six and I-"

"I know how you're getting such expensive clothes" she interrupted, arching a brow at him, though the corner of her mouth had ticked up into a smile.

"What? Oh, the shirt the other month? I told you, it was a knockoff" Peter stuttered nervously, and she gestured.

"You're wearing a Gucci shirt right now".

"What? No I'm not. Have you seen this thing?" He asked, plucking at the hem, even as he died a little inside. Was it too much to ask for Tony to shop at Target once in a while?

"Well, it's in horrible condition, but I looked at the tag in class. I know how you're getting all this expensive stuff" she repeated, and Peter twitched a little, glancing around the hall before shuffling out of the way a little.

"I want in" she added, following him, and he paused, blinking across at her while his coherent thoughts stuttered to a stop.

"Uh."

"I want you to teach me".

"...Uh…"

She rolled her eyes at him and stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I know you're a Sugar Baby, Parker. There's no other way you could afford all this stuff, and nobody puts Gucci in a thrift store. I want you to teach me how to do it. Show me what website you used or whatever".

Peter stared at the wall over her shoulder, his thoughts effectively flat-lined. Sugar Baby? Website? Teach her?

"Listen, I don't know who your guy is or how you did it, but clearly, he's minted. And sharing. I'm only able to work part-time around my studies, and I want in. I'm not gonna tell anyone, I'm not a bitch, I just want to be able to afford stuff" her voice softened at the end, and Peter shuffled uncomfortably, trying to kick his brain into gear.

On one hand, she thought he was fucking an old guy for ratty Gucci shirts. On the other, this was the perfect out for all his mishaps. He considered it, head tilting as the corners of his mouth dipped down, and then he nodded.

"Sure, why not".

#fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #starker fic #starker cu #starker ncc #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #ironspider fic #ironspider au #starker au #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #sie fics

220 notes · View notes

starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Text

Where is the AU of Famous Porn Star!Tony where Peter, an up and rising porn star films himself jacking off/fingering himself/getting fucked watching Tony's videos so one day Tony uploads a video and its directed at Peter and it's like 'If you want the real thing, hit me up'

#fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker prompt #starker prompts #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #tony stark/peter parker #tonyxpeter #tony stark x peter parker #starker au #starker ncc #starker ncu

283 notes · View notes

starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Text

Six Days

Just a little Mafia AU drabble with Mafia Leader!Tony and BAMF!Peter because I’m feeling pitiful and that image of Tony in a white suit does things. Power bottom Peter, if you squint.

The boy strapped to the chair in the middle of the dungeon-esque room looks pissed. Anyone else being rescued from a six-day kidnapping would be kneeling at his feet and kissing his black LouBoutins.

Peter spits blood on them and scowls up at him like if his arms weren’t painstakingly tied down, he’d have done much worse. “Its been six days,” the boy hissed, voice rasped and a little thick, no doubt indicating a broken nose.

Tony tucked his gun into the holster at his hip and knelt down before his precious, reaching for him.

“I know, tesoro. They launched two attacks on our main locations. Perdonami, baby. I haven’t stopped looking for you."

The boy looked flatly unimpressed, staring Tony down as he grazed his thumb over his split lip, tracing where the blood had gone dry and flaky.

“They broke my arm ” Peter deadpanned, eyes narrowing at him. Tony cringed, rising a little to lean around the boy. He struck gold on the first side, Peter’s arm bruised and dark. It had been set, though, and Tony gave a sharp whistle.

It takes all of ten seconds for a figure to step up behind him, and Tony rose, threading a hand through Peter’s hair, mindful of the fact the boy was like to bite his fingers off in a mood like this.

“Kudos to whoever tied you, bambino,” Tony remarked, and the boy side-eyed him with a savage sound, low in his throat. Tony paid careful attention to freeing Peter’s injured arm, fingers featherlight and mindful of his knife, and he carefully rubbed at Peter’s shoulder and upper arm for a moment to stimulate blood flow before helping him move his arms back to a normal, frontward position.

“I want Strange at my quarters before we get back,” he warned the man who’d come running, watching him nod and dutifully move away before he turned back to Peter, hunkering down and getting to work on the various binds that kept the boy down.

They’d been smart and used a metal chair, one that wouldn’t break if the boy tried to flip himself over. His ankles had been double-bound and his wrists tied not only to the back of the chair, but threaded around to his legs, too.

“Six days, Daddy. Six days you left me here with them,” Peter growled, darkened gaze fixed on his own.

Tony reached down, wrapping his arms carefully around his battered baby boy and helping him gingerly to his feet. No sooner than Peter was upright and leaning against his chest, Tony felt a brush against his side, and then the bite of his knife under his jaw.

Peter was still scowling, but now he was beginning to look tired. He had clearly been given the bare minimum in terms of food and water, and they’d taken great liberty in using him for their frustrations.

“Careful with that, bambino. Its sharp.” Tony warned softly, letting go of Peter with one hand to reach up, wrapping it around the boy’s slender throat. He squeezed, only enough to feel the breath trapped there, before he let go, watching Peter’s gaze soften as he slid his fingertips down his arm, circled his wrist and pulled the blade away.

Peter let him take it without a fight, holding onto Tony’s suit jacket for stability as Tony tucked the blade away again and half-carried him towards the door.

As they passed the crumpled body of the man left to guard Peter, the boy stopped long enough to glare at it, and land a vicious kick to the ribs of the limp form.

Tony laughed and ducked his head, pressing a soft kiss to the boy’s temple. His two best men, Barnes and Barton, were waiting for them a pace down the hallway and they helped Tony to settle Peter into the car, tucked against Tony’s side with his broken arm mindfully cradled over Peter’s thighs. Peter was smearing dirt and blood all over his suit, but Tony couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Back in the safety of the heavily garden mansion nestled on the outskirts of New York, Peter was declared dehydrated, under-fed, exhausted and reasonably battered, but nothing that two weeks’ rest (six, in the case of the broken arm) wouldn’t soothe.

Bathed, fed and hooked up to an IV line for fluids, the boy crawled into Tony’s lap, thighs spread and one hand sliding along the back of Tony’s head as he ducked his own, leaning down for a kiss that he denied Tony at the last seconds, fingers twisting tight and unforgiving in his hair, holding him in place, soft, marked mouth just an inch from Tony’s.

“Six days. You don’t get to cum. You’re gonna spend six days right on the edge, buried inside me, begging to cum,” Peter informed him, grinding down over where Tony was now straining hard,

“You left me there for six days, Daddy,” Peter murmured, sitting heavy over his cock, knees tight against his thighs. Tony said nothing, knowing better, and Peter soothed a thumb along the side of his head, still holding him with a tight fist.

“Six days of torture. So that’s what you’re gonna get too, Daddy,” Peter promised, leaning down to give him a deceptively gentle kiss, coaxing Tony to lick into his mouth so he could catch his tongue between his teeth, giving it a brief but sharp nip that had Tony hissing.

“You didn’t beg,” Tony pointed out. Because Peter wouldn’t have. They could’ve broken every bone in his body and Tony’s precious boy would’ve have spat in their faces and asked what was next.

“Mm, but you will, Daddy. You’re gonna spend the next six days regretting not getting to me sooner,” Peter shrugged, grinding down over Tony’s cock slow and hard before slowly dipping his cast hand down between them. “Starting now."

277 notes · View notes

starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Text

Just a little drabble for @darkerstarker who is feeling a lil down today so please send all the love ❤ Inspired by this Instagram post.

A very soft meet cute AU 💕

Contrary to popular belief; Tony did enjoy 'living normally' once in a while. Stepping out amongst the general public and blending in as good as he was capable of. The signature facial hair was hard to hide, but so many had attempted to copy his likeness these days that as long as he kept all other identifiers hidden, people would eye him with hopeful suspicion long enough that he could usually get his coffee and get out before they plucked up the courage to come over and ask.

And that was why he was here, the coffee. The best mid-grade coffee in New York, if he were to admit it. The store was small, housed only eight tables, and was typically generous with being a place that recognised him only two out of ten times. All the girls behind the counter knew him, but were kind enough to keep their excitement to a minimum. It helped that he left large tips, he supposed.

It had taken him half an hour to shake the paparazzi lurking outside the Tower, still hungry for morsels of information after last weeks missions. They'd linger for several more days still, but they weren't the smartest Tony had faced, and several alleyways and a change of clothes had done the trick. The sweater he wore was thick and powder blue and the long trench coat with its collar upturned to his calves helped hide the glow and shape of the reactor in his chest. The dark shades hid enough of his face that most dismissed him as a wanna-be.

The coffee is worth it, he told himself. The normalcy is worth it.

The queue wasn't long, four people obviously needing their caffeine fix before heading to their 9-5's or their morning classes, if the boy in front of him was anything to go by. The kid couldn't be more than a hundred and thirty pounds wet, with a thick flop of curls that erred wildly towards his right temple and stuck up at the back where he might well have just rolled out of bed and walked out of the door.

A backpack hung heavy on one shoulder, stuffed full of books with the zipper straining in one corner, and he wore a baggy shirt that reminded Tony of his own 'lab comfies', too loose around the neck and hanging off the kid's frame like a blanket. Something dark had stained the kid's slender fingers where he flipped his phone over and over, and it made Tony's own hands twitch against his thighs, reminded of the motor oil and grease that had become practically a second skin.

When the kid stopped flipping the phone and thumbed the screen on, he ought to have looked away. It was only polite, after-all, but he really couldn't, because the lock-screen that flared to life was his own face. It was from a magazine shoot he distantly remembered, lounging in a throne-like chair in an expensive Giovanni suit, laughing at something the photographer had said. The kid seemed to stare at it for a moment before keying in his passcode, and tapping straight onto Google.

Tony should have looked away. Social convention said it was only the proper thing to do. But then...He was a billionaire with a hole in his chest and a flying gold alloy suit. Social convention didn't really apply to him anymore. So he kept staring as the kid typed in a single letter, just a T, and breathed out in bemusement at the drop-down list.

Tony Stark. Tony Stark photoshoot. Tony Stark news. Tony Stark Iron Man. Tony Stark smiling. Tony Stark 2020.

He raised a brow as the kid thumbed the 'Tony Stark smiling' option and adjusted his phone, secretive to those around him but heedless of whoever was standing behind.

"Ah, yes. The good stuff" the kid murmured to himself, and Tony couldn't have stopped the grin if he tried. Watched as the kid spent the rest of the line scrolling through hundreds of images of Tony, pausing here and there to save one that particularly caught his eye. The line shuffled onwards without the kid so much as glancing away from the screen, but when it came to his turn he locked his phone and shoved it into his pocket, looking up.

"Hey, Lolly. Can I get my usual, please?" The boy asked, in quite possibly the sweetest voice Tony had ever heard. A little high, a little quick, like he was in a permanent state of excited. Behind the counter, Lolly's gaze had already latched onto Tony, and she flashed him a flushed, secretive smile as she tapped in the kid's order. Tony tipped his head, then raised his hand a little to catch her attention.

"And mine onto that, please" he instructed her smoothly, reaching past the kid to slide his card down onto the table. Part of enjoying normalcy meant he carried a debit card around with him, forsaking contactless methods and hacking. He'd even gone and paid extra to have a customised image on it, and a beaming dog dressed as Iron Man lolled its tongue happily at every cashier.

The kid turned abruptly, clearly ready to start an argument, and his brain visibly stalled, jarring to a halt much the same as Tony's did. Because the kid was gorgeous. A babyish face belayed by a strong jaw, round cheeks and dark eyes framed by long lashes. Pretty was the word Tony wanted to bring forth. Pretty, like a painting. Like a sculpture.

Tony reached up and slowly slid off his shades, fixing the kid with the most dazzling, I'm your hero smile he owned. "The least I can do, to say thank you for being a fan" he purred, laying the charm on thick as Lolly handed him back his card. The kid's brain seemingly hadn't come online again yet, gaping at him with flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

The kid's order turned out to be a fruit smoothie, which was done by the time the kid managed to stutter out "Holy shit, you're Tony Stark" and the billionaire reached into his pocket, uncapping the Sharpie he carried around before reaching past the kid to take his cup. Careful not to spill any, he scrawled his number across the plastic, signed it, and pressed it into the kid's lax grip.

"You should call me when you're done with classes for the day. You're going to be late" he noted softly, eyes sparkling, and the kid glanced down at the pink plastic watch around his wrist, spitting a curse.

"I'm- You're- But you just- Fuck, I'm gonna be late" the kid rushed out, tugging his bag strap tighter and taking a step, before looking across at Tony, down at his cup, back at Tony. His mouth opened and closed and then he spun on his heel, practically fleeing for the door. When Tony turned back to the counter for his own, Lolly was grinning at him.

"His name is Peter" she informed him cheerfully, holding out his dark roast. "And he has a shirt that says Mrs. Tony Stark".

Tony raised a brow. Does he now? He flashed Lolly a charming smile.

"I might ask him to see it sometime".

#fanfic #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #starker au #starker ncc #starker cu #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #tony stark/peter parker #tonyxpeter #tony stark x peter parker

176 notes · View notes

starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Note

Prompt tony giving peter a wedgie just to be a little shit and finds peter wearing iron man boxers

Whelp, I guess I’m back and writing :’) Thank you sm for this prompt! This is kind of an IM1/2 era prompt, where Peter is basically Pepper and is Tony’s long-suffering but doting assistant. No trigger warnings for this, unless you’ve had a series wedgie-related trauma in the past.

“Mr. Stark, you can’t just-"

"I’m sorry, what? What did you just say? I don’t understand the word that didn’t just come out of your mouth, because nobody tells me I can’t do anything. I’m Tony Stark, I can do whatever I want,” the self-mentioned genius spun on his heel as he backed into the room, arms spread and a lopsided, friendly smirk on his mouth as he tossed his apple from one hand to the other.

He spun back around as he crunched into it, free hand flying in all sorts of gestures that pulled holograms from one corner of the room to the other.

“Yes, congratulations, you know your own name,” Peter responded wryly, stepping inside after him and through each hologram that his boss tossed in his direction in a valiant attempt to keep him at bay. “But you absolutely can’t-"

"Ah? What was that? That word? Began with a ‘c’, I’m pretty sure. Doesn’t apply to me. Like, ever. Unless its in the context of eating olives. In which case, I can’t. shan’t, and won’t.”

A slender hand stretched through a scaled-down hologram of the Tower and gripped the front of the genius’ shirt in a tight first, dragging him forwards until he was staring into a pair of stormy, dark eyes.

“Anthony Edward Stark. You are not going to make a cast of your own penis and market it as the 'Iron Rod’,” his personal assistant growled, and it was truly the eighth wonder of the world that he said it was a completely straight face.

“Ah, but you didn’t say I couldn’t make one and market it at all,” Tony countered, and he could feel the threat of bodily harm radiating from the younger man. In fact if he looked close enough into his eyes, he could see a tiny reflection of himself getting beaten to death with his own suit.

He wriggled free of the vice-like grip Peter had on his shirt and darted out of reach, stretching for a hologram of his aforementioned body part. Peter emerged from the hologram behind him, mouth open and ready to argue before he snapped it shut and slapped his hand over his eyes, spinning away with a sound of disgust.

“This violates so many workplace laws,” the younger man muttered, and Tony gave a low hum. Was he agreeing? Probably. Tony hadn’t read a Stark Industries contract since Pepper had finalised them all for official use. Frankly, he wouldn’t have even read them then, but she’d physically sat down next to him to make sure he read every. Single. Word.

It had been tedious and boring and to top it off, she’d even confiscated his glasses on the off-chance he’d fitted them with software again to play Angry Birds. (He had.)

“Do you think the body should be red and the tip be gold? Or the other way around?” Tony asked thoughtfully, and made an affronted noise when the hologram splintered out of existence before him. He’d been intending to work on that, thank you. But then gentle fingertips were brushing his jaw, turning his head with careful tenderness until he was blinking back into those whiskey eyes. Peter had such long, lovely lashes. Tony wanted to count every single one.

“Tony. When was the last time you ate?” Peter asked, voice impossibly soft, and Tony made another quiet sound, shrugging lightly as he looked away, off into the distance. That was a nice wall. The perfect wall. Had that wall always been there?

“That depends. What day is it?” he answered, nose scrunching, and he could feel Peter’s gentle exhale across his cheek.

“Friday,” Peter responded flatly, and those featherlight fingers were sliding from his jaw, down to his arm where the smaller man took hold and began to steer him straight back towards the door he’d only just walked through.

“Which means I’m making you a sandwich and then you’re going to bed.”

“How does not eating equate to being banished to bed like a toddler?” Tony argued, but he went willingly anyway, because he was a sucker for a pretty face and a pout. Honestly, hiring Peter Parker was the worst thing he could have ever done to himself.

He’d essentially hired the one person that could actually make him do anything. Besides Pepper, of course, but then she’d gone and gotten pregnant and now she worked in Public Relations, a much calmer department that meant she could largely work from home and keep an eye on her little… Spawn.

“When you’re a grown ass man that needs to be treated like one,” Peter fired back, nudging him into the elevator. Tony opened his mouth, but the younger man rounded on him. “And don’t even think about trying to weasel out of it through JARVIS. He’ll just agree with me,” Peter warned.

“In this instance, Sir, I’m inclined to agree with Mr. Parker,” his treacherous, disloyal AI remarked from around them, and Tony closed his mouth slowly with a scowl. That’s what you got for giving an AI the gift of free will, he supposed. It bit you on the ass and agreed with your spitfire of a personal assistant/colleague.

“This sandwich better have salami in it,” he muttered darkly. Peter simply cast him a sideways, softly amused glance, and pushed him out of the elevator when they arrived at the penthouse. It had apparently been cleaned since Tony was last here, and it was also apparently overcast today, which meant either the New York weather had turned in the last ten minutes, or it truly had been a considerable amount of time since he’d last looked out of the windows.

Guiltily, he noted it was more likely to be the latter. Someone (Peter) had tidied away all of the tools and random bits of tech scattered around, and someone (Peter) had cleared up from his last round of coffees and his poor attempt at making himself a snack some days (?) prior.

He let himself be prodded into a chair at the kitchen island, and crossed his ankles as he swung his lungs, leaning on the bar and doing his best to look cute as Peter rounded it and made for the fridge. Looking cute helped kids and animals get out of trouble, why not attractive billionaires with supersuits?

He watched curiously as Peter pulled a variety of items from the fridge, and the sauce rack at its side. Burger sauce, mustard, sliced roast beef, pepperoni slices, mixed salad lettuce, American cheese and a crusty, round loaf of Italian bread. Tony’s brows raised. That was… Quite the combination.

“I could make a plug and call it the Arse Reactor,” he suggested after a short while had passed, and Peter pressed down so hard on the knife it almost bit into the cutting board. The petite man cast him a glare over his shoulder and Tony raised his hands in surrender, biting back a shit-eating grin as he watched the flex of Peter’s arms and shoulders. When did Peter ever find the time to work out?

“Eat,” Peter’s gentle voice interrupted his distracted thoughts, and Tony blinked down in surprise at the plate that was pushed gently between his propped elbows. He could have sworn it was only two seconds ago Peter was cutting up the ingredients… But, he had to admit, the sandwich looked mouthwatering.

He picked it up dutifully and took a bite as Peter turned away, reaching for the fridge once more. An explosion of flavour hit his tongue and he moaned, chewing his mouthful like it was an act of worship. Across the island, Peter cracked a small, almost shy smile, and poured a cracked the tab on a can of soda.

“I’m marrying this sandwich” Tony announced when Peter came close enough to slide him the drink, and the other man rolled his eyes, but looked suitably bashful. That one initial taste had suddenly altered Tony to just how hungry he actually was, and he shamelessly scarfed the beast of a meal down, aware of the fact that Peter watched him the entire time, leaning against the kitchen island with this impossible soft expression on his face. When Tony had licked his lips clean of crumbs, Peter took the plate, heading over to the sink where he began to run the hot water.

“I have a dish washer for that,” Tony remarked, and he couldn’t see it, but he knew the man had rolled his eyes. Peter did it whenever Tony said anything that pertained to his 'rich, white man privilege.’ It didn’t earn a verbal response, though, and Tony managed another nine seconds before the silence had him twitching and squirming in place, sniffing as he adjusted his seating position and arm placement.

“I bet you’d buy one, if I did. Or even better, I could just send you an Iron Rod fresh from the factory,” Tony remarked, and his mouth was still open enough at the end of the sentence to catch the soap sud that Peter flicked at him.

“I am not going to own a cast of my boss’ dick, you pervert,” Peter huffed in response, and Tony sucked air between his teeth in the universal signal of ouch.

“Why not? Its just a casting. I highly doubt there’s anything about that written in any contract-” knowing Pepper, there absolutely would be, “-and who knows? It could be the best ride of your life,” he tossed out, intently watching the way that Peter’s spine curved as he focused on the task at hand. His assistant squeaked a laugh and shook his head.

“Oh, I doubt it. You’re probably unremarkably average,” Peter shot back, and oh. Game on, Parker. Tony moved silently from the chair, padding one step at a time like a predator on the prowl.

“We both know I’m not,” he hummed, keeping his voice level and quiet so it wouldn’t give away the fact that he was moving closer. Peter hesitated for a moment in his scrubbing, and deflated slightly. Tony was right, and they both knew it. Peter had seen him naked far too many times to have any other conception.

“Okay, you’re not. But I’m still not buying one.”

“I think you want to. And you’re afraid I know you want to,” Tony purred into Peter’s ear, shameless teasing and victory in his voice at the way the boy locked up like he’d just stepped on a landmine.

“What makes you say that?” Peter asked after a moment, voice faux-light and cheery as he scrubbed at a non-existent mark on the plate.

“Because you’ve been scrubbing the same plate for the past five minutes, and all I ate was a sandwich,” Tony pointed out, reaching over to take the sponge away from Peter. Peter made a sound vaguely like he was dying, and turned the water off, shoving the plate almost violently into the drying rack.

“Its called good hygiene, maybe if you did the dishes now and then you’d know it,” Peter responded smartly, turning to face him as he spoke. His assistant raised his arm, pointing past him and towards the steps that led to Tony’s room.

“Bed. Now,” he instructed, and it was purely because Tony was feeling generous (honestly) that he complied, turning on his heel to stroll off towards his room.

“I wouldn’t think any less of you, y'know. I’d be quite flattered,” he remarked casually, and jolted when a magazine hit him on the back of the head. “That’s assault. Pretty sure you’re in violation of the workplace law” he teased, and relished in the soft, despaired groan that sounded from behind him as he bounded up the steps like a puppy.

Once inside his luxurious room, he tugged his shirt over his head and threw it onto his sheets, disappearing into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He ought to shower, but he figured he could do that when he woke up.

“Don’t forget eye drops,” Peter’s voice rang out from his room when he’d rinsed his toothbrush and his mouth, and Tony paused mid-way to the door, stepping backwards to peer into the massive mirror wall. He prodded at one of his eyes thoughtfully, blinking. Huh. They did look a little dry, and feel a little raw.

So purely of his own accord, he dripped a few drops in each one and waved off the light in the bathroom, peering cautiously around the corner to find Peter stood opposite his walk-in closet, carefully reorganising all the clothes Tony had skewed around.

He was eccentric, not gross, thank you very much. Just because he was awake for 82 hours at a time, didn’t mean he didn’t change his clothes and brush his teeth.

“Now that I-”

“If this has anything to do with your dildo, I swear to God,” Peter threatened, pointing at him with a clothes clip before sliding the powder blue shirt into it carefully. Tony couldn’t even remember buying that shirt, let alone removing it from its place. His hands went to his belt to unbuckle it as he padded closer.

“Now that I think about it, I can understand why you don’t want one,” he offered gently, voice sincere and soft. Peter paused dubiously, fingers stilling over the soft sweater he was hanging, and then relaxed, slotting it back onto the bar where it dangled with the rest of its garment family.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter noted quietly.

“Its because there’s so much up your ass already, there wouldn’t be any room,” Tony tacked on casually, fingers curling expertly around the band of gold he could see peeking out from atop the boy’s tight jeans, where his shirt had ridden up as he stretched.

There was enough time for him to note how soft his skin was where he brushed it, for Peter’s breath to hitch on the beginning of a protest, and then Tony’s arm flexed as he yanked the band upwards, driving the material of Peter’s boxers right up between his asscheeks. It actually lifted the boy up onto his toes, hands flying out to brace himself on the wall and -

“Huh,” Tony voiced aloud, over the whimper-whelp that leapt from Peter’s throat.

Peter Parker was wearing a pair of very eye-catching, rather bold Iron Man boxers. The waistband was gold, edged with red, and Tony could see the tips of what he presumed were gauntleted handprints on each round, plump cheek.

“Anthony fucking Edwar-!” Peter seethed, and Tony twisted the material in his grip, hitching it even further against the younger man. It had to be right against his sensitive little hole by now, uncomfortable and rubbing.

“I didn’t realise I was already up your ass, darling,” Tony grinned, brow lifting as he stepped closer, closer, until Peter was pressed against the wall, held there by Tony’s grip and the teasing proximity of his body. He could feel the way Peter started to tremble, and he might have felt bad if he wasn’t pretty clued on to the fact that Peter wasn’t actually offended. Well. Not as offended as he was trying to make out.

“Though of course, that statement isn’t quite as accurate as I think we’d both like it to be,” he noted, gaze falling down, down to where his own brand stretched around a fat, plump set of asscheeks. He praised himself for how long he’d gone without doing anything; even Pepper had taken one look at Peter during his interview and immediately demanded Tony keep his hands to himself.

“You’re an asshole and a fiend,” Peter grumbled, though Tony knew him well enough to know there was a smile on his mouth as he spoke, head turning against the wall slightly to make it more comfortable. He hadn’t moved from his position, even though he could quite well have pushed Tony’s hand aside and moved away. Yet he stayed pinned, like a good little trapped prey.

“I could be worse,” Tony drawled, letting go of Peter’s underwear so that it snapped back against his hips with a satisfying sound that had the smaller man’s hips jolting forwards against the wall with a hiss. Tony didn’t back away, though.

He pressed in closer, slotting their bodies together gently. And oh, what a perfect fit it was. Peter’s smaller frame, blanketed and pressed against by his own, his hips perfect for gripping where Tony’s large hands came to rest on them.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Tony murmured, lowering his head to nuzzle at the slope of Peter’s shoulder. He did nothing more, just lazily nuzzled at the muscle there, the delicate curve of his neck, breathing in the boy’s scent and relishing in the chance to finally, finally touch. Peter breathed out heavily, lowering himself back onto the flat of his feet and leaning just slightly back into Tony’s careful hold.

“If you don’t tell me stop, I’m going to strip you of everything except for the those boxers, and I’m gonna push them aside to eat you out through them,” he added, quiet, promising.

Peter twitched underneath him, a choked off sound cracking on his tongue as he reached back, digging his fingers into Tony’s hip to drag him forwards, coaxing him into rolling his hips, dragging his cock along the groove of Peter’s ass, where his underwear was still hiked up between those tempting globes of muscle.

“If you stop, I'll resign,” Peter demanded, reaching for Tony’s hair so he could drag him down and kiss that stupid, smug smirk off his face.

#fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #starker fic #starker au #starker cu #starker ncc #ironspider #ironspider tanfiction #ironspider fanfic #ironspider fic #ironspider au #ironspider cu #ironspider ncc #tony stark/peter parker #sie fics

235 notes · View notes

starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Text

Starker Valentine

Firstly, I want to start by wishing @softstarkerstuff a wonderful Happy Valentine’s, and also every other wonderful noodle that may see this! This is my second time participating in a challenge and I am beyond excited! Softstarker requested a High School AU where childhood best friends drift apart after Tony rejects Peter’s feelings for him. Naturally, Peter has the mother of all glow-ups over summer and Tony is quickly forced to reconsider.

I didn’t wanna go absolutely crazy on the word count for this, so I haven’t actually written out the majority of the backplot. This fic takes place after said rejection and focuses on the requested act of Tony developing his character in order to deserve Peter’s affections.

(I said that and this ended up being over 4,000 words!)

@starker-valentines

TW: Light Angst | (Not) Unrequited Love

“Tony. Get up,” Natasha hissed above him, and ordinarily the glint in her eye would have been enough for Tony to hop to, but the situation outweighed whatever horrible consequence she could bestow him, and he shook his head.

“We live here now,” Clint shrugged happily, popping another nacho into his mouth from the bowl he’d swiped before joining Tony in an act of solidarity on the floor, hiding behind a countertop in the kitchen. Natasha arched a dangerous eyebrow at the other boy, and even Tony twisted to look at Clint.

“Why are you down here?” Tony asked, risking leaning over Clint’s thighs to peek around the corner. Fuck. He couldn’t see him anymore, but that didn’t mean it was safe to move. He blew out a harsh breath and curled back up against the counter, scowling.

“Barnes has that leather jacket on again,” Clint announced simply, as though that explained anything at all. Above them, Natasha heaved a put-upon sigh, settling for kicking Tony in the shin with an unimpressed frown.

“Him I can understand,” she begun, motioning to Clint, who paused like he didn’t actually know if he ought to be offended or not. “But you. I had higher expectations of,” she sniffed, eyes scanning the room behind them before she reached down, grasping a fist of their shirts and hauling them to their feet despite their yowls of protest and clamours to hide behind her.

Heart in his throat, Tony cast a quick glance around, but couldn’t find the object of his fears. Or... The person. He relaxed a fraction, mindlessly pawing at Natasha’s iron grip with the dull awareness that his shirt would likely be crumpled.

“Idiots. The both of you. If I were less of a friend I’d complain about you ruining my night,” Natasha sniffed as she begun to drag them out of the kitchen, Clint still desperately clinging to his snacks and having no qualms about stealing a bowl. Tony kept himself alert as they walked, fugitively scanning the rooms as they made their way towards the door.

He couldn’t exactly say he lamented leaving - Contrary to every single clichè American film, high school house parties were often measly affairs, more pizza than booze and always with that one weirdo pretending they were absolutely wasted off alco-pops and mixers.

This party was largely no different, thumping music that made it hard to talk, pizza that had long gone cold and Tony would rather starve than touch, shitty drinks with a 4% content.

Mm, but no. What made this party truly, utterly horrific, was the fact that Peter Parker had shown up. And really, that sounded meaner than it was intended. Tony didn’t hate Peter - Not even close. Wasn’t disgusted by his presence but terrified of it.

Peter was - Or rather, had been, his best friend. This is where Tony’s sort kind of did realise the typical ‘teen film’ plot.

Boy meets boy. Boys grow up as childhood best friends, joined at the hip and vowing during recess to never, never, ever break friends. Boys navigate pre-teenhood together. Boy gets crush.

Apparently, other boy also gets crush. Boy admits crush. Other boy is too emotionally repressed and terrified to admit crush. Boy rejects boy. Summer comes. Boy gets glow up. Other boy now doubly regrets rejection and is left to wallow in pitiful regret and jealousy.

Yeah. Tony liked it about as much as he liked Marmite, which was to say, not at all. When Peter had rolled over on their bed, eyes imploring and voice soft as he admitted his feelings, something within Tony had died.

Because Peter was this perfect, pretty thing he was destined to never have. The flower that Tony was too scared to pick because he didn’t want to see it wither and die.

“He’s gone all thinky and melancholy again,” Clint complained at his side, and Tony thumped him on the shoulder, tripping over the welcome mat as Natasha lugged them along like reluctant suitcases.

Tony would have given a smart quip in response, something scathing about how Clint was also running away from someone, but a soft voice interrupted the quiet of the front yard just as they reached Tony’s car.

“Tony?”

Fuck. Fuck. Don’t turn around. It was easy to pretend he hadn’t heard, grabbing Clint by the scruff to stop the moron from turning and waving as they hauled into the car. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t face it. Him.

They were barely even in the car before Tony begun to pull away, Clint and his nachos rolling around in the back as the teen struggled to buckle himself in. From her seat up front, Natasha eyed him.

“Coward,” she announced, and Tony immediately agreed without shame. He was, of course. He was a coward. Had been from the start, from the moment he was old enough to let his feelings morph from the love of a friend to just...Love. He drove with a grim expression and an ache in his chest that felt like drowning.

He lay in bed for the remainder of the night, nose filled with chamomile and flora and heart aching with every memory that encompassed all that he had left of Peter. He had run away that night, recoiling from the prospect of ruining something he loved, and knowing he was ruining it by running. A vicious circle; a rat maze he was destined to run forever.

The torture of it had only increased upon their return, when cheeks round with baby-fat had slimmed and sharpened, when Peter’s unruly curls had smoothed into rolling, silky waves. He’d worked out over summer a little too, no longer just slim but lean. Summer glow-ups were nothing new, but Peter’s had hit hard.

Peter’s new looks had only succeeded in turning him from a neutral, friendly nerd to the newfound adoration of Queen’s Public High School, the boy suddenly inundated with attention and propositions. Peter seemed to have taken it in stride, not exchanging his personality for popularity, and still sat with the same two friends at lunch, still studied hard and ignored the feral social ladder.

It only made Tony love him all the more.

His sleep was restless and by Monday he was tired and grouchy, stalking through the halls towards his locker with a pair of deep shades covering his stinging eyes. Natasha cast him a glance as sympathetic as she could offer when she had made her opinion of his torment clear, and steered him towards first period.

Peter was already there when they arrived, slouched over his desk and engaged in an enigmatic conversation with Ned. Tony allowed his gaze to linger for exactly six seconds before he slumped in his own desk, decidedly across the room from Peter and slightly in front, so he wouldn’t have to spend any of his lessons watching the other boy and lamenting the loss of his warmth.

A shadow fell over his desk and Tony slowly lifted his head from where he had been staring at the floor, willing his migraine to jump ship. The shadow belonged to one Steve Rogers, who’s summer glow up had happened over the previous year, and who had gone from your average joe with pretty eyes and a jawline to a six foot tall, broad-shouldered, lean hunk of very biteable meat. If Tony wasn’t fairly (entirely) certain one Bucky Barnes would knock all his teeth out, he’d have tried a taste.

“Can I help you?” he asked blearily, tipping his head so his glasses dipped and he could see Steve without a vignette of black. Steve merely raised an eyebrow, and Tony narrowed his eyes suspiciously in response.

“Hm.” And then Steve turned away, striding towards his own desk. Tony blinked dazedly at the now empty space, cast a sideways glance at Steve who sat down and begun to talk to Clint without a peek in return, and sighed. Ah. So Peter’s presumable warning about not going after Tony for breaking his heart must be nearing its end, then.

Wonderful.

At lunch, Tony snuck off campus and drove to the nearest Starbucks, returning to Natasha’s side with a coffee that was more espresso than water. He slouched in his seat and gave a pathetic whine, rubbing at his temples, and she slid a manicured hand through his hair, deliberately catching the tips of her nails on his scalp.

“If you weren’t such an emotionally repressed baby, you wouldn’t be like this,” she ‘soothed’ gently, and he cast her a sideways scowl.

“Yes, thank you for that. Nothing compares to your compassion and support,” Tony grumbled, scowling at her from behind his glasses. He needn’t remove them - she knew him well enough by now. Across the table Clint leaned forwards, petting idly at Tony’s forearm whilst his gaze remained steadily on Bucky from across the hall.

“Thighs like that should be illegal,” he sighed dreamily, and Tony and Natasha raised a brow in unison. Tony wasn’t the only one afflicted with love-interest related drama; Clint had gone and fallen in utter besottment with Bucky Barnes, also known as the second side of Steve Rogers’ coin.

Unlike Steve; Bucky had always been tall and broad, with a slick haircut and a face that was already breaking hearts across the school.

Tony’s gaze drifted, away from Barnes’ denim clad thighs and instead to the sweater-clad form besides him. Peter was sprawled in his chair, sipping absently at a Cola and paying delighted attention to whatever conversation was happening. He looked...

Soft. Soft in a way that Tony knew was huggable, touchable. His sweater was a deep blue to match the unlaced Doc Martins on his feet and his hair was askew like he’d been running his hands through it all morning.

“Stark!”

Fuck.

“What can I do for you?” he ground his teeth, voice faux sweet as he turned to eye Ms. Hill, who arched a brow at him and leaned down, plucking his coffee cup from his grasp.

“Please, correct me if I’m wrong, but last time I checked, the campus lunch hall didn’t stock Starbucks,” she announced, voice steely as she stared him down. Tony only offered her a short smile and an easy shrug.

“Correct.”

“Well then. I hope you’re sufficiently fuelled for a long day - you have detention. Immediately after last period.”

Tony simply cast her a serene, unbothered smile, taking his cup back before she could throw it in the trash. Tony’s grades more than made up for any mishaps he might incur, but Howard would still be displeased with him. Even more so at the triviality of why he was facing detention.

Neither of his friends deigned to say anything about the instance, though Clint had given a dramatic wince at his punishment and had tossed a scowl at Hill’s retreating back - ever the supportive friend.

Natasha disappeared shortly before the end of lunch, though Tony had long since learned not to question her. He’d once found her lounging behind the bleachers, making a scalpel out of a piece of plastic card, some gum and a pencil.

Since then he hadn’t dared to think too hard about what she might be doing whenever she wasn’t sitting in view and judging everyone.

She was back by the time last period rolled around, sitting primly in her seat with her book open, interest lost in a magazine she had apparently pulled out of nowhere. A glance at the cover showed it was a rifle magazine and Tony was not, at all, surprised.

Last period was history, and their tutor was a decidedly crabby old man who was never pleased with the efforts of his students. He was a fair grader - Never shorting them of their achievements, but he sung little praise and always had something to say about improvements.

They'd been given homework that no amount of groaning would rescind, and Tony pulled his from his bag with a sigh, rooting in his bag for a pen. In this class, he sat at the back, and it gave him a full vantage of where Peter was practically sitting in the lap of the pretty girl that had transferred here not too long ago. He had a vague notion of her name, but he knew for a fact that Peter always called her 'MJ'.

"Students! I should hope your weekend was spent wisely. Anyone not in possession of their homework will receive a detention," Mr. Ardell announced, hands clapping together. Tony breathed through his nose at the sound, pressing at his temple.

"Stark. This is not a nightclub nor a fashion show. Take the glasses off, and keep them off," he added in a snipe, and Tony forced a brittle smile, steadfastly ignoring the way that soft, honeyed eyes turned to him as he slid his glasses off And set them on his desk.

Even the typical 'bad type' student or the dumbest of them all listened to Mr. Ardell. The man had a booming voice and no hesitation about dealing punishments.

At a glance, Tony could see that every student had their homework on their desk. Every student except Peter, who was rummaging around in his bag with a growing sense of urgency. Tony perked.

That was unusual. Peter often had his homework out before the teachers even got a chance to ask. Tony’s gaze remained fixed on the boy, who was now frantic as he dug around, mindlessly passing Mr. Ardell his homework as the man roamed the room, collecting sheets, right up until he stood opposite Peter, who floundered.

“I... I did it! I packed it this morning. It was right in my folder and now it’s gone!” Peter breathed, panic blossoming in his eyes. Mr. Ardell was quite clearly having none of it as Peter rambled and rifled through his bag, until Mr. Ardell finally held up a hand. Despite himself, Tony sucked in a breath, wincing in sympathy.

“Detention, Mr. Parker. And such a shame. You’re one of the few that don’t frequently make me wish I had the money to retire sooner,” Mr. Ardell sighed, and Peter crumpled.

It made Tony’s heart clench in his chest, sympathy surging through his veins. He had no doubt Peter had done the homework - But perhaps he’d simply forgotten to pack it.

He was sitting there, chin on his palm as he watched MJ comfort Peter, when he sat bolt upright.

Detention.

Tony had detention.

That meant -

“Aw, fuck.”

“Mr. Stark!”

As Tony packed his bag at the end of class, Clint came sidling over, nudging him with a meek smile. “Hey, man. It’s not that bad. Just put some earbuds in. I bet he hates your guts too much to talks to you anyway!” he added cheerfully as they strode from the room, and Tony cast him a flat look.

“Gee, thanks.”

“No problem! Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow. I gotta dash if I wanna make it home to walk Lucky before food!”

And then, there was just Tony and the rapidly emptying hallway. He heaved a sigh, ground his teeth, and strode towards the detention room. It was only half an hour.

That was nothing. He could make it. The wild notion of fleeing and dealing with a double detention tomorrow crossed his mind, but Tony could only stand being in school for as long as he had to, and with a duck of his head he strode down the hallway at a faster pace. The sooner he got there, the sooner it was over with.

He reached the door and was about to push it open when the sheet of paper caught his eye.

Detention students - Room 3A12.

Tony frowned, but turned on his heel, making his way towards the other room. Perhaps that one was being cleaned or something. He was putting his earbuds in when he pushed into 3A12, Guns’n’Roses already filling his ears when a yelp of; “don’t let the door shut!” filtered through, followed by the soft slam of the door behind him.

He blinked across at Peter, who had stopped mid-stride, arm outstretched, looking pained. “Fuck! It locks from the outside. Now neither of us can get out,” Peter whined, and Tony scoffed.

“None of the doors in this place lock only from the outside.” to prove his point he turned, grabbed the handle, and slammed shoulder-first into it when it did not move as he did. Tony frowned, lips thinning as he jiggled the knob, tried again.

It wouldn’t open.

“Who the fuck installs a door that doesn’t open from one side!” Tony exploded, panic beginning to seep like cold water through his veins as the reality of the situation hit him. He was stuck alone in a room with Peter. Opposite him, Peter groaned and sank back down onto the -

“Son of a bitch.” They weren’t even a proper classroom. There were barely ten tables in here, a tiny whiteboard and a miniscule teacher’s desk. They couldn’t have been put in a smaller room if they tried. But speaking of the teacher's desk…

“Where’s the teacher?” he asked, nose crinkling. Opposite, Peter heaved a sigh, fidgeting on the edge of his seat and tugging at the ends of his sleeves.

“I don’t know. I’ve been in here for ten minutes, nobody has come in,” Peter sounded quiet, miserable, and Tony’s heart squeezed uncomfortably within his chest as he sunk down into a chair, frowning.

Maybe the teacher was just held up with a student. They’d arrive soon enough, and Tony could be out of here and far away from that plush mouth, those dark eyes.

The minutes ticked by, with nothing but the sound of the clock on the wall. Tony tried texting Natasha and Clint, but they were both home already. If Peter had text anyone, he’d had similar luck, because ten more minutes passed and still not a soul even passed the door.

Tony blew out a breath and tossed his phone down, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his chair. From the corner of his eye, he could see Peter watching.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“There’s not a lot in this room to look at.”

Tony gave a soft sound, eyes closing behind his shades as he settled. This wasn’t so bad. He could do this. They just had to wait and hope that a caretaker came around, or that someone called the reception to report that they had not come home. More minutes ticked by.

“You’re still staring.”

“I can’t help it. I haven’t...I haven’t seen you in a while,”

Tony sucked in a breath, eyes closing and fingers beginning a tempo against the table. No. He couldn’t do this. If he did this; he’d crumble. He’d get to his knees and beg for all he’d lost, and he couldn’t do that. Not as a Stark, and not to Peter. Couldn’t lead Peter to a reckless end.

“We’re in all the same classes,” he noted roughly, and Peter made a soft, frustrated sound besides him. Tony winced but said nothing more, steeling himself. Peter deserved better than him - especially now, when it would look like Tony only cared because he’d changed. Except... Peter hadn’t changed all that much. He’d just filled out a little, gained some confidence.

“You’ve been avoiding me and ignoring me.”

“So have you,” he replied evenly, relenting to the fact that Peter wasn’t going to drop the issue. He let his head loll to the side, almost startled when he found Peter leaning forwards, arms around himself, staring at Tony with shining eyes.

“I haven’t wanted to. You pushed me away, disappeared, came back and won’t even look at me”.

Tony ground his teeth, chewing his tongue. “It’s not like I wanted to either, Peter, but I couldn’t…” Couldn’t be around you, knowing that, and not taking advantage of it. Couldn’t see you hurt. Couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t.

“What, you were so disgusted with me you couldn’t even bear to be around me?” Peter sounded defensive now, voice hardening slightly, and part of Tony was thankful. Yes. He could do barbed. He could fight. He could take Peter hating him. At least he wasn’t hurting him further, that way.

“I’m not disgusted at you,” he replied quietly, turning his gaze away. He couldn't bring himself to say anything else, throat tight and hands gripping his desk to stop them from shaking. He thought about ringing Clint, bribing him to come open the door, but Peter spoke again.

"I get it if you don't like me that way but... It's not fair. Treating me this way. Being so... Awful about it.”

"I'm not being awful. I'm…"

"Running away from your feelings? Yeah. That's kind of your MO.”

And Peter said it so bitterly that Tony flinched, teeth clipping the edge of his tongue as he sucked in a breath. Low blow. An emotionally neglectful childhood was bound to leave it's scars.

Peter seemed to regret his words immediately, because he actually stood, taking a few steps to reach for Tony. Despite himself Tony leaned away from the reaching arm, mindless of how much he longed for the contact.

"I didn't mean…"

"Words said in anger are still words with intent.”

"Tony…"

"I can't do this. I can't pretend to hate you and I can't be around you without wanting what I can't have!" he didn't explode, but it was said with some degree of passion, standing to round on Peter, who sank into a chair, looking up at him sorrowfully.

"You can have me!”

If only.

"You said it yourself. I run from my feelings. I can't have you because I'll fuck it up, and I’d rather lose you without hurting you and without attaching myself. I'm a fucki-"

The rest of Tony's emotional rant was cut off sharply as Peter reached up, grasping him by the front of his shirt and hauling him down, so he had to brace himself with one hand on Peter's chair back and the other on the table as Peter's plush mouth met his own, clumsy and a little too forceful.

A man with a stronger will would have pulled back. Would have stuck to his cause and not been selfish.

Tony was not that man.

He let his lips part, opportunistic of the way Peter gasped against him, licking into his mouth and moving his hands to cradle Peter's jaw, relishing in what he knew would be the only time he could indulge his festering love.

There was a click, and then -

"I told you it would work.”

They jerked apart, mouths red and eyes wild, Tony twisting to find none other than a prim looking Natasha and a dubious looking Steve taking up the doorway.

"What." Tony managed, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Obviously this was a set up. A good one, too. It took forever to sneak around and replace the door lock. You two were disgusting and all... Pining. It had to be stopped," she announced, like a mad plot was nothing unordinary.

But turning, looking at the flushed grin on Peter's mouth and the sparkle in his eyes... Well. It was worth getting another detention for missing the first, and it was worth the hours of agonising emotional talk with Peter, tears and sloppy kissing and the jeers from their friends when they came into school on the Wednesday, hand in hand.

"How come I wasn't in on the whole plot?" Clint whined at their table during lunch, casting a mulish glance around them. Natasha gave a sigh and pet at him with faux pity.

"Because you're an idiot with a big mouth," she informed him, twirling a lock of hair around a finger. Overnight she'd gone from fiery copper to a blue-black. It suited her well. Some black lipstick, and she'd be every boy's wanna-be-goth-girlfriend.

"Only we get to insult the idiot and his big mouth," came from above them, and none other than one Bucky Barnes ducked down, pressing a kiss to Clint's cheek, before moving on to Steve.

"That's... New," Tony managed, glancing across at Peter, who looked equally perplexed. Clint had the decency to look sheepish.

"At least I didn't need to get locked in a room to sort my shit out," he grumbled, and Peter giggled, before kissing the affronted look off Tony's face.

Tony wasn't good at feelings. And he'd never been in love before. But Peter was worth it. Peter was worth trying, learning for.

#StarkerXOXO-2020 #Fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #starker fic #starker valentine #starker valentines #starker theme #starker nco #starker ncc #starker au #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #ironspider fic #ironspider au #ironspider valentine #sie fics

174 notes · View notes