#Mob Boss Tony Stark

[winterspiderpurrs]

Prompt:

Where Tony and Peter meet because Peter runs the Maria Stark Foundation

Peter was reviewing the books, and the numbers just don't look right.

Peter was so focused on the good this foundation does he never realized the ties to the crime family.

But when it gets brought up to Tony. Well Tony gets mad.

1) His mother's organization was never supposed to be touched by his group - keep it clean

2) How come no one told him this cutie took over running it?

#writting prompt #starker #starker prompt #mob boss tony stark #mafia tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #winterspiderpurrs

[starkwub]

(Tw: Starkercest)

Mob boss! Tony and his son, Peter (super out of the blue idea (considering I usually never write mob Au's), but figured I'd write it down ha!)

Just thought of Mob boss Tony allowing Peter, his prized possession son, go out on his own to live life since the boy had been harping about it for ages. Peter wanted to feel like all the other kids in his class. He didn't want body guards or exuberant allowances--nothing.

Tony of course couldn't say no after having done so for years-but that didn't mean he wouldn't be tricky about it.

Peter didn't have to know that he hired people to go to his house and be sketchy--knocking on the door at strange hours of the night or tampering with his window. Perhaps even telling the men to make creeping sounds within the home, just so Peter might feel more afraid of being on his own. He'd get people to stare at him on the streets, or following him after a late night shift at work in a dark hoodie with a jangling set of keys in their pockets so the boy would know they were there.

At first Peter wasn't all too fazed--thinking that it was just another one of 'dad's undercover body guards', but after a while--with his Dad denying the accusations and having not recognized any of the gruff and uneasy looking faced that met his gaze, the paranoia started to set in.

When it got to the point where Peter couldn't sleep for hardly a wink before startling at a creak in the floorboards or a brushing knock at his door--he did the only thing he possibly could think to do in that instance.

Call his Dad.

Sniffling, Peter grappled for his phone in the dark and clicked on his dad's profile, hearing the dial on the other end and then the un-familar beeping.

Why wasn't he picking up?. He always picked up.

It had been nearly 15 seconds before the beeping stoped and then came a sleep-laden voice on the other end.

"What is it baby? It's late, you should be asleep by now."

Peter shivered at the comforting voice and huddled a bit in the bed, pulling the blankets up and over top of his knees.

"Dad I.." He sniffled, looking worryingly at his bedroom door,

"I wanna come home. Just to visit--of course."

When his dad pressed on the topic, wonder why such a sudden thought had crossed his mind at three am, Peter just pouted and wrapped an arm around his knees tightly.

"Haven't seen you in a while s'all.." and suddenly his tone turned sour, "Why? You don't want me there?"

Tony coo'd and seemed to ruffle his bedding on the other side of the phone before speaking in a tone that Peter knew all too well.

"Of course I want to see you baby. Wish you where here right now so all you had to do was knock on my door, crawl into bed, and tell Daddy what's wrong instead of calling from a state that's a million miles away."

Daddy. Peter's heart thumped in his chest wildly at the honorific. It'd been so long..too long, since he'd heard it.

"It's not a million, jeez.." Peter retorted, suddenly remembering back to what it felt like to be with his Dad. His room somehow was always so much warmer than his own, and as he flexed his fingers to feel them stiffen from the chill, he sighed.

"I'll see you tomorrow then? I'm off with this weekend so I'll let them know I can't do any overtime."

"Mm.." Tony hummed, shuffling a bit more, "Alright sweetheart."

They stayed on the line for a few moments longer, and as Peter yawned, now letting his body slip back down to the crappy mattress, he breathed out against his phone.

"Want me to stay on the line?"

Peter nodded sleepily, knowing that his Dad couldn't see it, nor hear it, so he let out a muffled hum of his own, enjoying the subtle deep chuckle that came from his father's throat in response.

-- -- --

There can always be more, but I'm going to stop it here and count it as a win that I've finally written and posted something on here again XD I've been so enamored by the Harry Potter fandom as of late so my mind has taken to straying away from Starker more than usual

Hope everyone is doing okay! :)

#Starker #starkercest #Ironman x spiderman #tony stark x peter parker #starker au #mob boss tony stark

[authoressofdarkness]

Fill: Mafia AU for @starkerfestivals Summer Bingo 2023

Mind the tags y'all! Pretty typical mafia AU bs below but I just want everyone to be safe. Read on AO3.

Peter can’t see anything when he wakes up. 

Of course he can’t; what do you expect when you get hit over the head and abducted? He should know better. It’s not the first time someone has tried to use him against Ben, although it would be the first time they’ve gotten this far. Ben doesn’t mess around with his and May’s safety. 

This time is different, though, and not just because of the fact they’d successfully abducted him and taken him to God only knows where. He can’t put his finger on why until a voice speaks from somewhere that sounds alarmingly distant, but the concussion he likely has is the least of his worries when he hears it. 

“Oh, look. Sleeping beauty awakens.”

Peter tenses. It’s Tony Stark. He’s in deep fucking trouble.

It certainly explains how they got past the security that’s been not-so-secretly tailing him since the last incident, and also the fact that his arms are tied so tightly that they’ve gone numb. These are professionals. The mafia. Ben has been looking into Tony’s case for years, but Tony has never seemed to care before. Why now?

“Aw, look at that. He’s well educated, this one. You knew who I was as soon as I spoke. Your body says it all.” A hand brushes down his jawline, and he jolts a little. “You can talk. If I didn’t want you to, I’d have gagged you,” he continues nonchalantly.

Maybe it’s the fog or the dull throbbing he feels in his head, but it takes a minute for that to register and for him to realize that no, he isn’t gagged. He licks his lips, considering what to say. 

“If you’re hoping I’ll beg, you’re wrong,” he says at last. “Ben will come for me like always.”

“You think so?” Tony sounds amused. It throws him off more than he wants to admit, but he presses on.

“I know so.” Even if he sounds more unsteady than he did a minute ago.

“That’s cute, sweetheart. Such confidence. But I have to say, I think Ben’s a little busy at the moment, doll. You might be stuck with me for a while.”

It’s the cool confidence in those words more than anything that makes him nervous. Tony has done something, and whatever it is, he’s sure it worked. 

Peter’s heartbeat picks up. “What did you do to him?” he blurts before he can think better of it.

“Nothing, silly boy. Then he can’t do what I want him to. Just left him a little warning of what might happen to you if he doesn't clean up.” A finger brushes his cheek again. 

The shiver goes down his spine before he can help it. Both at the touch, and at the threat. It’s obviously a thinly veiled threat. “I’m not afraid of you,” he tells him, trying for strong and confident, but that’s not how it comes out. More uncertain and wobbly.

Tony just chuckles. “You shouldn’t be. Not for that, anyway. If I have to kill you, I’ll just be supervising. My men are much more creative with making it painful and drawn out than I am.” He pauses, and the gentle touch on his jawline turns to a firm grip on his jaw. “Now, in between... that’s what you should be afraid of, because that’s all me, sweetheart.”

Peter gulps involuntarily. Okay, that’s scarier than he cares to admit. Tony has quite the reputation himself, and it takes a physical effort not to run through every story he’s ever heard. And there’s a lot; good, bad, scary, and of course downright hot. 

He pushes the thoughts away. “Got special plans for me, do you?” He’s going for sarcastic, but then it also falls short. 

Tony chuckles. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea.”

The threat in the words is, again, barely bothered to be concealed. It’s dangerous and scary and yet somehow thrilling in the implication. 

Peter flushes when he starts to indeed think of some ideas, and Tony’s chuckle only makes him turn a deeper shade of red. Then he releases his chin and steps away. Peter almost mourns the absence of his heat. 

“Take him to a room and lock him up. I have to make some calls before anything else. Besides, I gave his uncle a day to respond before I show him how serious I am.”

They throw him in a room, cutting the rope on his arms and leaving him there. 

Eventually the feeling comes back to his arms, even if it takes several minutes of shaking on the floor from the intense pins and needles sensation running through them. Then he pulls off the blindfold. 

He’s just in a bedroom, he sees, when his eyes finally return to normal. It’s a surprisingly normal room — not an obvious cell, although there are no windows.

He climbs unsteadily into bed. There’s not much else to do. Even if he really thought he could make it out of this impenetrable house — which he honestly doesn’t — he’s fairly sure he’s concussed. His head is pounding so hard that standing is uncomfortable. If he’s going to try to escape, now isn’t the time to waste that opportunity.

Despite the conflict raging in every inch of his body, he falls asleep. 

When he wakes up, he can sense immediately that he’s in a different place. Not only because of the difference he can feel in the sheets — rougher, obviously meant to be disposed of, not to be comfortable — but because of exactly how much difference he can feel. He’s been stripped down to his boxers. Fuck.

Once again, the first thing he hears is Tony Stark's voice. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living, sweetheart.” 

Peter ignores him, testing his bonds. His ankles are bound and spread wide. His arms, oddly enough, are not. He pushes himself into a sitting position and pulls off the blindfold, looking around and spotting Tony for the first time. 

He’s shorter than he realized, he thinks, but still gives off the tall, dark, intimidating appearance. He radiates a charisma and sense of control that makes Peter’s hair stand on end because he knows it’s not the good kind. Yet it’s still damn attractive. 

And alarming, because every other time he’s seen Tony Stark, while from a distance or on surveillance, he’s been impeccably dressed, the pure channel of that control. Now he’s dressed casually, in ripped blue jeans and a ratty band tee shirt that looks like it’s seen more years than Peter has lived. 

The choice isn’t lost on him. The disposable room they are in, hella less expensive clothes than what Tony normally wears... It's obvious what’s happening next. His stomach clenches with fear that he swallows down. Panicking won’t help.

Tony must read the immediate panic on his face, because his expression softens, just a fraction. “Relax. We still have time. That’s why I let you wake up first.”

Let him wake up. They'd drugged him.

“How long was I out?” He needs to know. 

Tony presses his lips together as if considering how much to tell him. “A while,” he says at last. “Long enough for your uncle to think he was going to get away with something.”

Peter swallows hard. He’d known that Ben wouldn’t give into whatever demands Tony had sent him, not right away, but the words still send a spike of fear through his gut. “What are you going to do to me?”

Tony shrugs, standing up. He grabs something off the table he’s been sitting at, and Peter realizes it’s a tray of... food? 

“Right now, I’m going to make you eat, because you’re going to need it. Then we’ll get started.” He sets the tray on his lap. 

Peter tenses, both at the closeness and his words. “Is it drugged again?”

“After, it might be,” Tony tells him, with a flippant honesty that takes him by surprise. “But no, not this time. I need you awake to film.”

“Film what?” Peter presses. He doesn’t want to know, but he needs to. 

Tony takes a step away from him and heaves a sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets. Despite the severity of his words, the elder man's demeanor is a lot more casual than before. “Don’t worry about it right now. I’m not going to mutilate you. Not if I don’t have to. Hurting kids is hardly fun, you know. I’m not a psychopath, believe it or not.”

Peter frowns, not sure if he should believe that, nor why Tony would tell him that. He just nods and starts eating. Tony probably isn’t going to tell him anymore right now, and he's not sure he would like it even if he did.

He eats as much as he thinks he can stomach, then stops, pushing the tray away. Tony gets up immediately from where he'd settled in a metal chair in the corner to retrieve it. 

Peter waits until he’s close, then lays a hand on his arm when he reaches for the tray. He feels Tony stiffen, but he’s not immediately batted off. “What?”

“Please tell me what you’re going to do to me.” He’s not going to beg, he’s better than that, but he will ask. It’s obvious how badly it’s getting to him, but when he looks up at Tony, the mobster doesn’t look amused like he did earlier. Just tired, maybe a little wary. 

“Are you sure you want me to tell you?”

Peter hesitates. No. But he feels like he needs to know. 

Tony just shakes his head. The hesitation is answer enough for him. “Then don’t ask.” He takes the tray and leaves.

Tony doesn’t return for a half hour or so. By the time he does, Peter has tried every thing to get out of his bonds unsuccessfully. He can’t even reach them, nor does he know what he’d do if he could. These are real cuffs, sized to him. Not ropes or a cheap pair of handcuffs. 

If Tony was alerted to any of his attempts, he doesn’t seem to care. He walks right over and pushes against his shoulder. “Lay down.”

Peter makes a feeble attempt at resisting. “Why?”

“You know why. Lay. Down.” The words leave no room for argument.  Then Tony adds, softer, “If I have to force you, this will be worse than it has to be.” 

That much Peter knows is true, and he knows struggling will be futile, at least this time. So he lays down. Whatever he can do to make this as easy to get through as possible... 

Tony cuffs his arms in and pulls the blindfold back over his eyes. Peter hears his footsteps move away, and the faint sounds of him messing with something from far away before he mutters, “Alright. Showtime.”

The seconds tick away as Tony returns to the bed, and Peter immediately tenses. He’s seen enough and heard enough about Tony to know how much this is going to hurt. He can sense the change in the man’s demeanor without him even opening his mouth. The casual clothes don't make him any less terrifying when he slips back into his more terrifying persona. Any warmth seems to seep out of the room. 

Despite Peter's expectations, pain isn’t what comes next. A hand touches his chest, humming a little as it travels down, and then he feels the edge of his boxers being lifted. In the second it takes him to register exactly what’s going on, they’ve been cut straight down each leg.

Peter swallows hard. Fuck. He honestly doesn’t know if this is better or worse than the immense amount of pain he’d been expecting. 

Tony chuckles, and it’s a cold, emotionless sound, so unlike how he’d spoken to him a few minutes ago. 

“Such a pretty boy. You’d have made someone very happy someday. It’s a shame I have to do this. But you can thank your uncle for that.” 

A hand runs down his chest again, fingers drawing slowly from his collarbone down to his nipple, rubbing a tight circle around it. 

A gasp leaves Peter's mouth before he can help it. He can almost hear the way Tony smirks at the sound. “Easy, darling. We’ve barely started.”

Peter cinches his eyes shut, glad for the blindfold to hide it. Tony’s hand travels lower, nails gently scraping down his stomach, light enough to tickle but also leave barely-there marks. He squirms under the touch, eliciting another chuckle from the mobster. 

"There there. I’ll get there eventually, sweetheart. Although I don’t know if you’ll like it when I do.” The fingers trailing between his hips pause in their descent. “Anything you’d like to say to your uncle before we get started?”

Peter licks his lips. “You’re not getting anything from me, Mr. Stark. Go to hell.” 

Tony chuckles. “Fair enough.” He presses something hard and leathery into Peter’s mouth, and the younger man bites it automatically, wishing he didn’t feel grateful for it. At least he doesn’t have to worry about what he says now. 

The mobster climbs on the bed and settles between his legs. His hands run up Peter's bare thighs, the motion soft but his palms rough and calloused against his skin. He’s surprisingly gentle, thumbs rubbing little circles against his hip bones as if to try to soothe him for just a second before one presses down, the other moving to wrap around his cock. 

And fuck, he’s hard and he definitely should not be. By all definitions, he was hurt and abducted, and there’s no denying that this is rape. Or at least Tony intends it to be, but for some reason Peter isn’t entirely sure he doesn’t like it. 

Okay, to say he’d always been fascinated by the mob boss would be an understatement. It was hard not to be, with Ben having spent so many years telling him about him, pouring over case files and trying his damndest to implicate him in something, somehow. And maybe Peter had started to join him with the intention to help. Up until now, he's convinced himself that was all his interest was about.

Now his own body was ousting him. 

Ben wouldn’t see anything besides what Tony was doing to him. But both of them could feel it even before Tony starts stroking him with one of those calloused hands, and a nearly pornographic moan tears from his throat, barely muffled at all by the gag.

Tony strokes him agonizingly slowly, making him feel things that he absolutely shouldn’t. To Peter's credit, he really tries to keep from giving into the feeling, and it actually takes several minutes before his body really begins to betray him. When the pleasure starts to build and he feels the hand that splays over his stomach as if wanting to feel when his abdomen started to seize, he suddenly realizes what’s happening. 

Tony is teasing him. He has no intention of letting him come. And this is Ben’s punishment, watching him be edged on camera. 

So why the fuck does it feel so good? Why isn’t he terrified out of his mind?

He should be terrified. But instead, the only fear he feels right now is fear of Tony stopping. All he can focus on is the feeling of the hand on his dick and the nails tickling his stomach, muscles clenching, the pressure building until he’s so close, desperately trying to fight the hand that presses firmly down over his stomach when he starts trying to chase the pleasure himself and then-

He lets out a choked cry when Tony pulls away, despite knowing it was coming. Fuck, it was only one and he’s so hard it hurts. 

Tony chuckles dryly, though this time he doesn’t sound very amused. “Easy, sweetheart," he murmurs, and then louder, for the camera, "We’re only getting started."

Peter groans, unable to help himself. He tilts his head back, squeezing his eyes tight under the blindfold. It can’t get worse than this, can it? But he knows it can. 

It gets a lot worse, apparently, because Tony apparently has no intention of keeping things informal. Maybe he’s just not too worried since he doesn’t intend to let Peter come, but Peter still doesn’t expect it when he feels something warm and wet wrap around the tip of his cock. 

Tony Stark is sucking his dick. His first blowjob, and he won’t even get to come.

Tony’s mouth slides down his cock, and Peter groans again, writhing under him. The mob boss’s hands press into his hips firmly, keeping him flat against the bed as he hollows his cheeks out and sucks. 

It just feels so good and so bad at the same time. He doesn’t know how to handle it. He writhes and moans and tries to arch, and the man above him makes sure he gets absolutely nowhere. 

He hardly realizes how overwhelmed he really is until Tony pulls away and a choked sob tears itself from his throat. Tony makes a low, almost intrigued hum at the sound. 

“There, there, precious. Don’t cry.”

He jumps a little when he feels those rough fingers brush his cheek, and realizes suddenly the blindfold is wet. He hadn’t even noticed. 

“Just one more, this time,” Tony promises, voice low and throaty. “Then you can tell uncle all about it and we’ll call it a day.”

Peter's groan is his only attempt at a response. Tony runs his hands down his chest again, teasing his nipple for a few sparse seconds, just enough to make him whine a little, before moving all the way back to his hips. 

“If you breathe, it’s easier,” Tony reminds, sounding almost pitying. “You should hope your uncle doesn’t go too long. Too much of this and you’ll be used to it. I could turn you into such a pretty little slut.” 

Peter whimpers, tilting his head back. He wishes his cock didn’t throb at the words, the idea of it, but it does.

Tony chuckles quietly, apparently feeling it as he starts stroking him again. “You like that, baby boy? Does that turn you on? The idea of being mine? Being a slut for me?” 

Peter groans, trying to squirm again. “Please,” he tries to say, but the gag doesn’t allow him to. 

Tony gets the gist, though. “Please what, darling? Want me to keep you? Want me to do this to you all the time?” His voice is dark, dangerous, and accompanied by a gentle squeeze on his cock.

Peter moans, unable to help himself. Fuck, it’s hot and scary and intriguing and he should be so fucking scared, but then the elder man’s hot mouth is sucking at his balls and any thoughts of the threat melt away immediately, replaced by the feel of his impending orgasm, the blood rushing in his ears, and the sound of his own choked moans. 

Tony pulls away again, leaving him straining against his bonds and moaning. Peter isn't even sure how long it takes him to settle down, but when he does, Tony leans over again, pulling whatever he’d shoved into his mouth as a makeshift gag out of his mouth.

“Last chance, sweetheart. Anything you want to say to the camera?” 

Peter sucks in a greedy, unhindered breath. It takes a moment to register what Tony’s asking, but he manages to pant out, “Go to hell.” Only this time he doesn’t know who he’s directing it towards.

Tony just sighs dramatically, getting up and shutting off the camera. A moment later, he returns to the bed. It creaks as he crawls on the other side and settles beside Peter.

The blindfold slips up onto his forehead, and Peter blinks a few times. The world goes in and out of focus for a minute as his eyes readjust. 

Tony is beside him. He presses something against his lips, and Peter opens automatically. He probably shouldn’t, especially considering what just happened, but he does. 

As it turns out, it’s just a straw. Peter greedily sucks down a few drinks until his senses return enough, he turns his head away. “I don’t want you to drug me again,” he mumbles. If it is drugged, it's far too late now, but... 

“It’s just water. Not drugged. Drink,” Tony orders.

Peter complies. He doesn’t know that he entirely trusts that, but he’s dying of thirst. He drinks the rest of the glass in a few swallows.

The automatic movement and the cold water calm him, as it’s probably supposed to. Tony releases the cuffs while he’s preoccupied, and takes Peter by surprise when he keeps a hold of his wrists and begins to rub the circulation back into them. “Tell me how you feel.”

“Does it matter?” Peter drops his eyes to Tony's hands, unable to look him in the eyes.

Tony releases one wrist to grab his chin, tapping his head up. The elder man's eyes are dark and serious. “Yes. It does.” 

Peter closes his eyes. “It hurts,” he admits. 

He hears Tony sigh. “Hurts less than what the guys thought I should do.” What he would have done to an adult, he didn’t have to say. 

Peter understands it anyway. “I know,” he mutters. Is it odd that he feels grateful, in that respect? Probably not as odd as him being unable to decide whether he had actually liked any of it. 

“If it means anything, I apologize. And if you want me to... I won’t make you suffer another day.”

Peter’s head snaps up, eyes wide as saucers. “What?” He knows he should think logically about it, that Tony can’t possibly actually mean that he would kill him, not with Ben’s job still hanging in the balance, but panic overrules his better senses for a moment. 

Tony realizes instantly, gripping his shoulder. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean I’d kill you. Christ. I was offering to let you come.”

Peter stares at him for a second. The hand on his shoulder feels unnaturally heavy. He slowly leans away, unsure. “You’re messing with me.”

Tony catches his chin, making him meet his eyes. “No. There’s no point. I’m not going to say I won’t have to tease you again if I have to do another, because I very well may. But I won’t make you sit like this all night.” 

Peter wets his lips. His mouth still feels impossibly dry. “I... would appreciate that,” he whispers, lowering his eyes again. The offer is more than kind, all things considered. He can't fathom why Tony would actually do it, and he's still on the fence as to whether to believe him, despite the little seed of hope it gives him.

Something in Tony's face softens, just a little, at the quiet admission. “Ask me, then. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” 

“I assume we’re still talking about sexually.”

The elder man smiles, but it’s dry and humorless. He anticipates what Peter is thinking without missing a beat. “I’ll let you go when Ben does what he’s supposed to. That’s it. Unless you have a reasonable request in the meantime...”

“Clothes, maybe?” 

Tony tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Maybe I can give you something. After. If you still want to come.”

Peter presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, all things considered. Maybe it only is because it’s a fantasy taken to a whole different level than what he ever could have anticipated. But it’s hard not to flush when he murmurs, “Yes, please, sir.” 

At least it seems to affect Tony, too. He inhales a sharp breath. “It’s a shame. You would be such a pretty, trainable little slut too,” the mobster murmurs, and Peter jumps a little when he trails a finger down the line of his jaw. “I know I was teasing you earlier, but... you are very turned on. You really did enjoy that, didn't you?” 

Peter turns even deeper scarlet at the question, if that’s even possible. “No. Yes. I mean– I don’t know." He may as well admit that much. Tony has already seen right through him. 

Tony hums as if considering this. He pulls Peter's hands away from his face, his grip firm but not harsh. Peter's eyes are bloodshot when he looks up at him again. “But you want to come?”

“Please.” It’s okay to beg now that the camera is off, right?

Tony’s face flickers with bemusement, but if he’s thinking the same thing, he doesn’t say it. “How?”

“I get a choice?” Peter asks, wary.

Tony just shrugs. “Considering what I just put you through and likely will do again? Why not.”

Peter nods once, licking his lips. There’s an immediate answer that comes to his head, of course, but does he want to ask for it? Is he even capable of asking for it? He honestly doesn’t know if he can get the words out. 

And should he? What if the camera really isn’t turned off? What if Tony is messing with him to hurt him more? But then, why would he? He has total control already. There’s not much point. Breaking Peter too much won’t do anything for him if he intends to let him go, after all. Ben could easily take back whatever it is Tony is making him say or do for him if he damages Peter too much. 

Tony’s quiet chuckle is what jolts him out of his thoughts. “If that’s what you want, all you had to do is say so, sweetheart,” he says, and Peter’s blush colors his cheeks anew as he realizes he’d drifted off in thought staring at Tony’s mouth.

Well. At least he doesn’t have to ask now. Tony flashes him what can only be described as a wicked grin and moves to settle between his legs.

Tony runs his hands over Peter’s thighs again. The motion is light and gentle, this time, and Peter rests his head back, taking a breath. 

But Tony isn’t going to just do this and let him forget exactly who it is between his legs and why. He presses a kiss to Peter’s hipbone, catching him off guard. “Was this your first?”

Peter watches him with cautious eyes, still unsure. “Yes.” If Tony's words during the video were anything to go by, he doubts it will surprise him.

Tony doesn't seem surprised, but he is quiet for a long moment. “Let me make it up to you, then. I just need something from you, first."

There it is. The catch he’d been expecting. He’s already cursing himself for being so gullible, wondering if he can really hold out another day for Ben when this one has already been a mixture of every fantasy he's ever had and also literal hell, and then-

“A kiss.” 

That’s the last thing Peter was expecting to hear. "What?"

“You heard me. I want you to bring your pretty self over here and kiss me. Or let me kiss you. I’ll take either.” 

“Why?” Peter can’t help asking. If he was confused before, he's even more so now. Tony must know that he doesn't have much to give him in return, sure, but a kiss was not the kind of extortion that he'd been expecting. 

“Because I don’t want to take the choice away from you to do it, and I might have to later if you don’t. Besides, if I’m going to ruin you, I may as well do it completely.” Tony smirks, nails trailing, ticklishly light, down his stomach and onto his thighs. 

Peter's muscles clench under the touch, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. It’s not as if it isn’t true. Tony just doesn’t know exactly how much he’s already ruined him, and the reality is that he's barely done anything compared to what Peter knows he's capable of. Hell, that just might be the problem.

“By that logic, are you going to fuck me, too?” The words come out before he can really think through what he’s asking.

Tony straightens a little, taken aback by the question for a moment before his expression smooths out again. “I… No. It would take a lot for me to get to that point,” he tells him, though the words come slowly, as if he is weighing their truth while he says them. “A wide variety of torture would come first, especially in your case. The assignment I gave your uncle isn’t that big of an ask. I’m not anticipating that happening.”

Peter lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, not sure if he feels relieved or disappointed by the words. “Right.” He hesitates to ask, given Tony has already given him more than he was expecting, but… the elder man has hinted at it too many times for him to not feel the need to ask. “What are you anticipating, then?”

Tony's expression darkens. The bite of his nails suddenly seems to be a bit firmer on his skin, toeing the previously unnoticed line between teasing and pinching. 

“More denials, probably. Ben will have responded to what happened by morning. I’m sure he’ll try to negotiate. I may or may not accept, depending on how what he says holds up to what my intelligence says.” 

“What if he still refuses?”

“Don't worry about that right now." It's not a reassuring answer. 

“But–" 

“I said we’ll worry about it then,” Tony responds, cutting him off. His tone is sharp, and Peter is still struck with a sudden fear that maybe he’d pushed his kindness just a little too far, overstepping the boundaries that were never defined but had to be there. "I don't like to repeat myself Peter. If you're looking for promises, I can't make any. Situations like this can change with the snap of my fingers." The implication isn't missed on Peter, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it when the other man continues. 

"Now–" Tony grips his cock suddenly, making him jolt a little at the pleasant-painful touch. “Do you want me to suck your dick or not?”

The words, combined with the touch, make his cock throb. It's a distraction tactic, but an effective one, throwing him completely off the topic. “Yes, please.” Peter's words are barely a whimper.

“Then shut up before I fill your babbling mouth with mine,” Tony mutters, but before Peter can respond or even apologize, Tony's lips are wrapping around the head of his cock again and everything he might have been going to say is lost.

Tony’s mouth is hot and wet and frankly more amazing than he imagined, even after the half-assed first blowjob. His tongue slides against the underside of Peter’s length, pressing gently in all the right places to make him cry out and convulse under him. The addition of being able to see him do it is almost enough to make Peter blow his load immediately, but he tried to hold off. This is not an opportunity that he wants to waste, after all. If this isn't enough to satisfy him… well, he's going to be hurting for it tomorrow, that's for certain. 

Between his newness and his hyper arousal, it still doesn't take very long for Tony to make him come. Tony’s mouth moves from his cock to attend to his balls, one hand still stroking him repeatedly, and even with his eyes squeezed closed, that’s all it takes for him to come with a strangled yell, spilling all over Tony's hand and his own stomach.

He’s vaguely aware of Tony dropping his cock, the feeling of the mob boss’s calloused hands smoothing from his hips down to his knees, straightening his cramping legs from where he'd been pulling on the ankle bonds unwittingly. Then he’s leaning forward, and Peter exhales the little air he has left in a soft moan as Tony’s hot tongue smooths against his skin, licking the expanse of his stomach clean.

Their eyes meet again for a second, and Tony licks his lips. 

“It really is a shame I have to give you back." The mobster's voice is deliciously throaty, an unwelcome reminder of what they've just done. His eyes are nearly glowing with what Peter can only describe as malicious intent. "You’re such a delicious little thing. I’ve been needing a new slut for a while now, and you’re just my type.”

Peter's stomach clenches at the words, more than a small dose of fear and something he doesn't want to name twisting inside his gut, but there’s no mistaking the way he’s growing half hard again between them. 

“But Ben would really have to fuck up for me to do that,” Tony continues, almost thoughtfully, as he gets to his feet and moves to fix Peter’s bonds. Peter lets him, almost in a daze from this surreal experience. Or maybe dissociated is the better word.

"Who knows. Maybe God will smile upon us, hm?” And with that, Tony flashes him a wicked grin and leaves him alone in the room.

~~~

It’s the next day before he sees Tony himself again.

Someone comes in and shoves a tray of food in his lap, untying one of his hands so that he can eat, and then disappears again. 

Despite the crazy way this has gone suggesting otherwise, this isn’t the first bad situation he’s been in. It’s never been this severe, of course, but he’s certainly been tied up before, and Ben has made sure he can get out of most bonds, given proper time. It's all too easy, once he's left unattended, for him to get his other wrist and then his ankles free. 

Well, maybe not all too easy. His food is cold by the time he gets completely free, and the room is barren and cold and the only exit is locked from the outside, but... well, he doesn’t have to spend the night in that uncomfortable position. No one else comes in, and whether they know he’s free from his bonds or not, he doesn’t know, but they leave him alone. 

Until the next day. The door to his weirdly big cell bursts open suddenly, startling him awake, and Tony Stark stalks in, gun in hand and eyes glowing with ire.

Peter is on his feet almost before Tony orders him to get up, and he barely makes it a step back—his self-preservation instincts kicking in far too late—before Tony has reached him, grabbing his arm and dragging him out with a grip that verges on dislocating his shoulder if he pulls against it. He's still completely naked from the night before.

Now that the door is open, Peter can hear the commotion outside. Fighting. Yelling. Gunshots. And they’re heading right for it. 

“Mr. Stark-“ he starts, uncertainly, but a look from Tony silences him. This is not the same man that was patiently taking care of him last night. That is long gone now.

Peter isn't sure which version of Tony Stark was the facade, but he's smart enough to know that now isn't the time to try to find out. His mouth snaps closed as soon as Tony looks at him. 

“Shut up and do exactly as I tell you, or someone who doesn’t have to is going to die." 

Peter doesn't need any more convincing.

He lets himself be dragged into a deserted meeting room– not far from the gun fight that's happening elsewhere in the house, judging by the echoes that are still bouncing around the hall, but in a space it hasn't reached yet. Tony shoves him onto his knees on the floor, settling in a chair. 

“What are we-“ Peter tries, earning another cold side eye from the mobster. 

“Waiting.” Tony sheaths the one gun he was holding in his belt and grabs another seemingly from nowhere, rubbing the barrel with his shirt for a moment before appearing satisfied. “Any more questions?”

Peter shakes his head mutely, leaning his head against the front of the chair and waiting.

The first time the door opens, it’s just two of Tony’s men. Peter startles so much that he almost jumps to his feet, but Tony's hand clamps on the back of his head, keeping him down. It’s obvious based on the way they’re dressed and the weapons they carry — and the lack of them being pointed at Tony — that they work for him, and that they knew he was in here. 

“How many are alive?” is the first thing Tony asks.

“Most of them. There’s always a stray bullet or two, but I don’t think any of them are definitely dead. Not if we vacate in the next fifteen minutes, anyway.”

“Well, he better get his ass in here soon, then,” Tony says, mildly, as if the lives of the men outside are of no consequence to him. Of course they aren't. What were you expecting, Peter?

Peter swallows down his rising questions. He wants to ask who they’re talking about, what’s going on, but he knows it won’t be taken well if he does. He has a feeling even if the mild version of Tony Stark he was treated to yesterday actually exists, he would never show it in front of his men. He has a sinking feeling he knows exactly what's about to happen, anyway.

The men take up their places, and while he doesn’t exactly relax, Peter lowers his head again. He was told to wait, so that's what he does, steadying himself as best he can with deep, meticulously counted breaths.

Tony's grip relaxes on his head, but the hand stays in his hair, toying with his curls. Though it's almost calming, it also feels downright possessive. 

The next time the door opens, he never gets to lift his head. Tony’s hand, which had drifted down, stroking long lines along the back of Peter's neck, fists into the fine hair at the base of it, keeping his head firmly down. Peter can see the gun on Tony's knee in his peripheral. That alone is enough to keep him from moving.

“I was beginning to think they’d killed you, despite my orders,” Tony says, fingers drumming almost lazily on the barrel of the weapon right across from Peter's head. 

“You knew we were coming.” Ben’s voice pierces something in his chest. He’d suspected, of course, but hearing and knowing were two different things. “How?” 

“That’s for me to know and you to never find out. Although I have to say, it was ridiculously predictable, especially for an officer of your caliber.” A backhanded compliment, Peter recognizes, but one that does nothing to diffuse the situation, nor does he think Tony intended it to.

“So." Tony's tone is too casual for their situation as he carries on. "Your men are nearly all injured, most of them probably close to dead, or at least equal in uselessness. You’re here. What you’re looking for is right here.” He tugs Peter's hair, yanking his head back hard enough to make him hiss. A tap on Peter's cheek with the barrel of the gun is enough to keep his eyes on him instead of drifting, like they'd started to, towards Ben. He finds Tony's dark eyes are alight with amusement and something much more dangerous. “Unfortunately I’m not very inclined to give him back to you now.”

“Let him go, Stark,” Ben snaps, and he knows from experience the way Ben looks right now, even with his gaze locked on Tony's; the way the muscle in his jaw is jumping with anger, body tense, a coil ready to spring from his place across the room. “It’s over.”

Tony laughs. It's nothing like the teasing laughs at Peter's expense last night. No, this sound makes every hair on his body stand up. “Is it? Really? If it’s over for anyone, it’s you, Parker. We had a deal. You broke it. This is what you get. Speaking of,” he adds suddenly, looking down at Peter again with those too-dark eyes, “We also had a deal, that I so kindly let you off of last night because you were too wrecked to hold to it. I think now would be a good time for you to own up to it.” The barrel of the gun he’s brandishing idly brushes his cheek again. “Don’t you think?”

Peter gulps, mind immediately set to racing. Fuck. What deal did they make? Had he said something last night in all his horny haste? Or maybe there was a conversation that had happened while he was drugged and he didn’t remember it? 

Tony grins a little at his confusion. Ben tries to step forward, an argument ready to leave his open mouth, but Peter seems a dark haired man behind Tony step forward and cock a gun at him, freezing him in place. 

“A kiss, Bambi,” Tony reminds, voice quiet and yet still carrying that dangerous edge. “You owe me a kiss.”

Oh. That. He can’t believe Tony let him forget, but then... did he really forget? If Tony remembered and knew about this, was he just waiting for this moment to collect? Or was he really just now remembering? 

It didn’t matter. The comment on the way here about people dying made sense now, as it was obviously meant to. If he didn’t cooperate, Ben would die. Simple as that. 

He starts to raise himself up, only to be pushed back to his knees by Tony.

“Oh, I changed my mind, sweetheart,” Tony drawls, an absolutely feral grin turning up his lips. “You’re going to kiss me, yes. But not on the lips.”

The innuendo sends a thrill down his spine, a mix of terror and nerves and something that could have been excitement or something else he was better off not naming- 

“Move,” Tony orders, his voice cutting into Peter’s thoughts. 

“Haven’t you already hurt him enough?” Ben snaps, and Peter risks a glance over to see him being held back by one of Tony’s men, nearly frantic in trying to get to him. “Leave him alone. I told you, it’s over. Even if you somehow make it out of here, they’ve got you for felony kidnapping charges at the least. You’ll be hunted-“

“What else is new,” Tony mutters, dismissive. He uses his grip on Peter's hair to make the boy drag his mouth along the inside of his thigh, clear up and over the bulge in his pants, then holds his head there. “Make a decent effort, Bambi, or next time it will be the gun,” he whispers for only Peter to hear.

Peter can barely nod against the grip on his hair. He feels like everyone in the room is watching as he slowly opens his mouth, tongue moving from the button of his pants all the way down the line of the zipper. He nips at the zipper piece, tugging it as hard as he dared with his teeth and looking up at Tony. 

Tony just smirks back at him, eyes wicked and almost consumed by black pupils. Without taking his eyes off Peter, he says, “You might be right, Parker. But there’s one thing you’re wrong about. It’s not just over for me.” He lets go of Peter’s hair and shoves him back. “Up. Let's go.” 

“No!” Peter looks toward the cry to see both men holding Ben back. “Peter! Stark, you can’t-“

Ben never gets to finish. One of the men takes out a gun, and before Peter even has time to panic, whips him across the face with the butt of it. Ben drops to the floor like a stone. 

Tony turns to Peter with that feral grin, hooking an arm around his waist and pulling him in, kissing him for real. His tongue traces over Peter’s lips, which part automatically, then dips into his mouth, tasting and claiming. 

He kisses him until Peter is panting and weak at the knees, and Tony’s arm is about the only thing keeping him on his feet. Then he finally pulls away, grinning, and tugs him toward the door. “Let's go, Bambi.”

~~~

Peter doesn’t get a chance to resist. 

Tony has a firm grip around his waist and is tugging him out of the room before he’s even had a chance to recover his breath. He manages to get one last good look at Ben — breathing, he’s sure of that much, at least — and then he’s being dragged out. 

Out of the room, out the back door, and into a car. Tony shoves him in the backseat and slides in beside him. Almost before the door has completely closed, the mobster has taken his wrists and cuffed them behind his back. He barely has time to wonder where in the world the cuffs came from before Tony has slid off his tie and is wrapping that around his eyes.

“What-“ He tries, but Tony cuts him off.

“Until we get to the jet, you can’t see anything. Secrets to be kept and all that. And no, don’t bother bombarding me with questions, because I either don’t have or won’t give you the answers right now.” 

Peter frowns. Considering everything that just happened, he’s fairly sure asking a few questions should be justified. “Why do I have to be bound, at least?” It comes out much shakier than he intended. 

Tony chuckles, pulling him against his seat. The sound isn't as hair raising as it was a few minutes before, but its still tinged with a manic, dangerous sort of joy. “Oh. Those are partially because you’re a flight risk, and partially just for fun.”

“For fun?” Peter repeats. He doesn’t bother to acknowledge the flight risk comment. It seems stupid to. Even if he was inclined to try anything right now — which he isn’t; he needs way more information to try anything than what he has — he’s...naked and cuffed up in the back seat of a mobster’s car, with no idea what state he’s even in. What would he even do if he made it out?

“Yes. Fun. As cute as I’m sure you would be writhing around and hanging on me would be, I much prefer it when you’re still for me.” The mobster’s hand lands on his thigh, making him jump. “You being restrained and squirming for me has to be the cutest thing I’ve seen in a while. I think I’ll quite enjoy having you as a pet.” A hand wraps around his still exposed cock. 

Peter stiffens, feeling his body start to respond to the touch almost instantly.

“Mr. Stark...” 

What can only be the elder man’s mouth touches his shoulder, hot and wet, pressing kisses along and up it until he reaches his pulse point, sucking at it. Peter tamps down on a groan.

“Can’t wait to mark you all up,” Tony purrs. “As soon as we get to the safe house... fuck, baby, I can’t wait to make you scream.” 

It’s hard to think with the elder man’s hand stroking his cock slowly and deliberately, the hot words and his mouth moving along his body. He tilts his head, baring his throat to him almost automatically, unable to help himself. 

On one hand, the idea terrifies him. Being permanently separated from Ben and May, being Tony’s permanent... plaything. But on the other hand, Tony’s hands and mouth are warm and sending electricity along his body, and he can’t help thinking that maybe it won’t be so bad. Especially if there's any of the Tony that had visited him last night buried under this terrifying exterior.

“You’re hard as a rock, pretty boy,” Tony whispers against his skin. “Did you like being dragged around naked for everyone to see? Being forced to kneel, to use your mouth just for me, right in front of your uncle? When we get on the jet, you’re going to do it for real while I have my meeting. Suck me off nice and sloppy and loud, the whole time we’re there, in front of everyone. What do you think of that?”

That sends a shiver coursing through his body. The degradation and the absolute ownership in every word and touch is straight out of his deepest fears and his darkest desires. 

“What if I say no?” His voice is weak and hoarse, even to his own ears. As the words leave his mouth, his hips squirm against the elder man’s touches.

“What if you say no?” Tony chuckles again, right by his ear. “Who told you that you get to say no, baby boy? You could try. And I suppose I could rape you until you couldn’t walk or talk and you’re so broken you don’t resist anymore. Or, if you really irritate me or I really don’t feel like fighting with you, I could sell you to someone who really doesn’t give a shit what you say. Or let the men use you for torture or target practice. Your uncle would be plenty horrified at that, I’m sure. Or...” Something cold and metallic touches his thigh, then trails up his body, pressing just insistently enough against his lips that he opens his mouth before he could think better of it. And he does think better of it, but not before he hears the safety click off and realizes that he just let Tony Stark slide the barrel of his gun into his mouth. 

“I could just kill you,” Tony finishes, his lips brushing hotly against Peter’s ear. “Whenever or wherever I feel like. I could kill you right here, but-“ he’s still stroking the boy’s cock, and Peter’s hips twitch and buck against him now. “It’d be a shame when you’re just so close to changing your mind, isn’t it?”

Peter had frozen against him sometime after he’d heard the safety click off, and even the dull pleasure of the man stroking his cock can’t quite overrule the spike of fear and clarity that hit him when he realizes Tony’s handgun is nudging the back of his throat. 

Tony nuzzles his throat, turning the gun to create gentle friction inside his mouth. “I’m going to let you think about it until we get to the jet,” the mobster whispers against his ear. “Why don’t you come sit in Daddy’s lap now-“ the hand drops his cock and wraps around his waist, tugging his back firmly against Tony’s chest. "-and you can just hold my gun for me while you think about it, hm?  But in the meantime, naughty little pets don’t get to come, so... may as well close your legs for now, sweetheart. I’ll have them wide open when we get there either way.”

The gun presses insistently at the back of his throat as Peter curls up in the man’s lap, head lolling back against his shoulder. The words may as well have been burned into him. None of this is about Peter; it’s about hurting Ben. Revenge. Tony wants what will burn Ben most, and he’s inclined to agree that escaping the country with him and knowing that he’s being kept as Tony’s personal plaything is probably what will upset Ben most. At this point, killing him would be a reprieve, and they all know it. Whether it’s one any of them want for him... well, he really doesn’t want to die, even if he knows it might be better for him. 

So Peter stews over the words and doesn’t try to resist, knowing that in itself would be taken as a decision. And when Tony nuzzles his neck and orders him to suck, to practice for giving him head as if his life depends on it, because it just might, he does.

He sucks and licks at the barrel of the gun in his mouth, tongue circling the barrel and tickling the underside with the tip of it. He can taste the metal and gunpowder and idly wonders if that’s even safe for him to consume, but it’s too late now. 

Tony continues toying with and turning the gun in his mouth until they arrive at their stop. By the time they do, drool has started running out of the corners of his mouth, and his jaw aches from both the tension and the position of having sat there the whole time.

Tony pulls the gun free of his mouth and holsters it without even wiping it off, and then scoops him up. Peter doesn't try to wipe his face but closes his mouth immediately, trying to work the stiffness out of his jaw before Tony makes him follow through on his threats. 

The air is cold when they step outside. In all reality the temperature really isn’t all that bad, but, well, he’s still completely naked, so... it feels very cold.

Tony carries him for an indeterminate amount of time before he’s hit with a blast of warm air and, shortly thereafter, set on his knees. Soft murmuring around him alerts him to the presence of Tony’s men surrounding them, and the realization of exactly how public his degradation is sends a shudder through him. 

He feels the light press of Tony’s knees against his shoulders and knows the mobster is getting comfortable above him. He sits there for several minutes, waiting, when he hears the click of the safety on the gun again. He jumps when the still-slick metal brushes his cheek. 

“Time to make a choice, Bambi." Tony's voice is soft, the closest thing to gentle it's been all day. “You can rest here on your knees and keep quiet with my cock until daddy can get you somewhere and spread you out, or you can call your aunt and say goodbye and take a short trip outside with one of the men. Choose wisely.”

Peter gulps. He isn’t stupid; he knows exactly what the second option means. 

He doesn’t want to die. He isn’t anywhere near desperate enough to say he does, not yet. And if he really becomes that desperate later... well, the men will all still be carrying guns later on, and there’s plenty of ways he could act out to end up getting killed, should he really decide he prefers that. 

So he swallows, trying to wet his throat that already feels like sandpaper, and opens his mouth after only a moment of hesitation. He hears Tony chuckle quietly, feels the gun brush across his bottom lip as if considering it anyway before the mobster draws it away. 

“Excellent choice,” Tony purrs, sliding the gun into his holster and gripping his hair. He lets himself be guided up on his knees, the cold press of Tony’s zipper against his cheek before he’s unzipping it and something hot and firm slides between his open lips. 

“Someone get me earplugs for the boy. I don’t want him listening in while we talk business just yet.”

There’s some quiet muttering, and a moment later, something soft presses against one ear, then the other. 

Silence prevails as his mouth is guided further onto Tony’s cock, and there’s literally nothing else for him to focus on besides the task set before him.

Peter closes his eyes under the blindfold and tries to make himself relax. It’s hard, impossible, even, to push the situation itself to the back of his mind, but at least it’s easier to pretend it’s just him and Tony again when he can’t see or hear anyone else. He can feel the mobster's hand still tangled in his hair, holding him there, firm and unyielding. Right now it’s still, simply keeping him there, not allowing him to pull off but not forcing him to do anything more than be. 

That's where he stays for the next several hours, nothing but the endless dark and silence, and the hot, overwhelming presence of Tony Stark – the prospect of life with him, at least for the considerable near future, making everything feel so much heavier – lingering over him, leaving him to stew in his own thoughts. 

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #my writing #sfsummerbingo23 #bingo fill #mafia au #mob boss tony stark #stockholm syndrome #tw: kidnapping #police officer ben parker #tw: dubcon #dubious consent

[kur0t0-s1m]

I like the idea of bonded/mated omega Peter generally being sweet as pie and friendly to most people until someone decides to talk shit about the pups and all bets are off.

If its he's bonded/mated to Mob boss Tony or SIM Tony all it takes is one word to Tony (or Bucky if he's Peter's personal bodyguard) to make sure that the offender never thinks to speak poorly of his children again, he may handle it himself if it feels right, either my knocking the living daylights out of them or by reading them for filth, he'll make them regret opening their mouths to begin with

The first few times they're made examples of to make sure no one else makes the same mistake. Anything after that depends on what mood Tony or Peter are in, maybe their in a good mood and decide to have you beat up and thrown out, you're injured, but alive. Maybe they'll torture you for a while and have a bit of fun, you're pretty fucked up, but once again the fact they let you go alive is a blessing. If they have Bucky or another one of Tony's men deal you, then what you said was particularly egregious to Tony and/or Peter. You can consider yourself on pack watch since they don't plan on letting you out alive.

In cases where he's still fairly timid (even if he has no shame whatsoever in letting Tony use him whenever and wherever he pleases) he tries to ignore it, but eventually he breaks, and after Tony comforts him the offender is swiftly and brutally dealt with, even if Peter tried to plead their case despite their slight Tony makes sure that everyone knows what awaits them if they upset his mate. It's a well known secret that if you want to remain unharmed and alive that you watch what you say about the Boss's/Superior's family, unless you really feel like being taken off the census.

#starker #peter parker #sim!tony #tony stark #tony x peter #omegaverse #mafia tony stark #mob boss tony stark

[starker-sorbet]

Mob boss Tony watching from above as his lover, and loyal enforcer, Peter infiltrates a gathering of his enemies. Posing as one of the many waiters at the casino before slaughtering them all

#starker #moodboard #my moodboard #mob boss tony stark #tw:blood #tw: knife

[irondadfics]

Hi there! I have been looking for this one fic for MONTHS but can't find it, basically tony is a mob boss, and Peter is a mail carrier to make money (I think???) Because his family is dead, and Tony gets attached and adopts him, I know at one point they go to dinner and peter gets kidnapped, if you can find this fic I'd appreciate it a bunch 🙏🙏

Heyyyy!! You've been waiting for a damn long time but thanks to a very kind helper, we finally found your fic. Happy reading!

#foundfic #irondad #mob boss tony stark

[shona22]

mob boss!Tony x Escort!Peter

Part 3 || Here is Part 2 and 1 || ao3 link to first chap

a/n: the full chapter will be posted this...monday? on ao3. Because I am kinda invested in this so uwu

He doesn't pick his black gossamer suit this time around, the dark utterly riveting under the gloss of Peter's cheap LEDs, the ones they provide freely on the 45th and 7th's thrift sales, something about being climate conscious. Which, really, Peter's jam but it had inked in tiny alphabets certain words most animal right activists scorn at. So Peter's not sure if he should be relieved about them, really. 

The suit was given to him by Mr. Osborn, the last week of highschool. As a farewell gift, from both places. It's still the single best thing Peter owned, notwithstanding the other suits the agency had provided him with. But tonight, the rule was no formals. 

He shifts through his work closet again, chewing his lips but careful enough not to draw blood. Don't overdress, don't under-dress. What does that mean, anyway? There would be people-- he assumes there would be, otherwise the instructions would be very different. But then again, this is the first time Peter had heard such raw fear in his boss's voice and then the man didn't leave any messages with more instruction. Something casual but not overly so. 

Ah. 

He looked himself in the mirror, patting down the snug jeans, feeling for any lint over the baby pink shirt and then gave himself a rough shake. He looked nice. The pink shirt was a good highlight for this creamy pale skin, reflecting a blush-y effect over the highest part of his neck and face. It stretched minutely over his biceps when he moved but thankfully it was loose enough to still give him a slimmer visage. The pants were snug on his thighs, and a quick twirl proved it did wonders for his butt. A chuckle left Peter when he remembered Mj's word about the jeans being too obscene for a family dinner at Apple Bee's. 

His phone vibrated critically as he touched a bit of a high-lighter on his brow bone. Peter frowned as he saw the unknown number but accepted the call regardless, what’s the worst that can happen now? Well, many things but you get his drill. 

“Your ride is waiting downstairs,” A discombobulated voice droned from the other side. It appeared so mechanical that Peter paused, pulled the phone from his ears to look at it skeptically. 

“H-hello? Um, who–” 

“Boss prepared a car for you, Mr. Parker,” The voice, distinctly femine yet so out of reach from human familiarity. “As a gesture of goodwill I hope you won't be late.” 

“Right.” Peter gulped, “Your boss. I’ll…I’ll be right there.” 

“Good,” The voice said again. “Mr. Stark isn’t a patient man. Call dismissed.” 

When the call ended, Peter felt his hands were sweaty from the anxiety, the very casual name drop. The fact that his own name had dropped like a whip on Peter’s bare back, all icy and nothing homely. He took in a very shuddering breath, still clutching onto his phone with a death grip and sat down on his bed. Just for a moment. 

So…It was Anthony E. Stark. 

Stark. 

Fuck, No wonder Quentin was pissing his pants.

#tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #starker #tony x peter #mob boss tony stark #mob boss au #escort! peter parker #mcu fic #mcu au #starker fic #starker fanfiction

[darthbloodorange]

Steve can't help but fall for the allure of New York's most dangerous criminal and his collection of knives. But there is no one else that makes him feel so alive.

It's a good thing he heals fast with the serum, otherwise hiding what was going on would be a whole lot harder.

For the: ✦ @stevetonygames - Fuck|Marry|Kill; prompt “Superhealing” [O5] (Team: Fuck 🍆) Challenge: Time Runs Out (21m:34s)

Word count: N/a - Moodboard Title: Sharp Edge of Clarity Rating: Mature Universe: Marvel 616 Pairings: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Warnings: Blood, BDSM, Knives Major Tags: Knifeplay, Mob AU, Mob Boss Tony Stark, Captain America Steve Rogers, Dom Tony Stark, Sub Steve Rogers, Handcuffs, Collars ~ Summery: Steve can't help but fall for the allure of New York's most dangerous criminal and his collection of knives. But there is no one else that makes him feel so alive.

It's a good thing he heals fast with the serum, otherwise hiding what was going on would be a whole lot harder.

#SteveTonyGames #Lemon #Stony #Steve Rogers #Captain America #Iron Man #Tony Stark #Marvel #Marvel 616 #Blood. #BDSM. #Knives. #Mob AU #Mob Boss Tony Stark #Dom Tony Stark #Sub Steve Rogers #Collars #DarthBloodOrange #DBO Moodboards #Moodboards

[tonysslut]

hear me out, mob boss Tony Stark smoking a cigar while you sit on his lap and he gently plays with your pussy!!!! and in the meantime the two of you also share a glass of his best whiskey... I bet that would be his favorite way to unwind after a hard day

i wanna kiss your brain for sending this 😩

minors dni, pls don't copy or repost my work

warnings: teasing, fingering, overstimulation, italian mob boss tony 😏

tony stark masterlist

You were sitting on Tony's lap with your white lacey panties pushed to the side while he buried his knuckles in your cunt. His other hand held a cigar. The smell invades your senses as you try your best to keep still and not spill the amber liquid that was in the glass you were holding. 

“Such a pretty little pussy, squeezing my fingers so tight.” He groans, slowly thrusting in and out of your heat. “Don’t spill my whiskey, amore mio.” a warning as you start to squirm. 

 You weren’t sure how many orgasms he’d pulled from you. You could barely feel your legs, and Tony’s pants were soaked with your arousal, permanently marking them with your scent.  

“I won’t, daddy.” You whine, trying to focus on the glass instead of how good his fingers feel. 

Tony came home stressed from all his meetings, texting you to wait in his office with a glass of whiskey and his favorite lingerie set. You expected him to down his drink and fuck you senseless, but instead, he patted his lap and insisted on just playing with your pussy, calling you his “stress reliever." 

How could you deny him that? 

You watched as he pulled his fingers out of your cunt, your arousal glistening in the light as he sucked them into his mouth, moaning at your sweet taste. “You want a taste?” He asked, and you eagerly nodded as you parted your lips. 

A mixture of whiskey and your arousal hit your tongue, you moaned as your tongue swirled around his fingers to get every last drop. He watched, almost hypnotized, as you sucked on his finger, big doe eyes staring back up at him. 

He set his cigar on the holder and took the whiskey glass from your hands, taking a swig, then placing the glass on his desk. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he trailed them down your sternum and stomach before pressing against your swollen and oversensitive clit. 

At the same time, he presses his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp as he drags you closer to your orgasm. His tongue slips past your parted lips, roaming your mouth as he draws you closer to your orgasm. You dig your nails into his arm when he thrusts his fingers into your cunt, almost instantly hitting a spot that has your eyes rolling back into your head. 

“Feels good, huh?” He groans, putting his palm flushed against your clit to stimulate it while he curls his fingers inside you. 

“S’good.” You whine, back arching as he uses his free hand to grab you hips, keeping you seated on his lap. “Gonna cum!” 

Your legs shake as your release washes over you, muscles stiff and vision blurry. Tony’s movements don’t stop, he makes sure to drag it out for as long as possible, loving how you turn into putty afterwards. 

“Good girl, you’ve made such a mess.” He whispers in your ear. 

You look up at him with glazed eyes, barely registering his words, only attempting to jerk away when he pulls his fingers out only to place them on your clit once again. 

“Can’t. S’too much.” You slurred but give into the painful pleasure.  “Just give me one more, amore mio. Then I’m going to need you to clean up the mess you’ve made.”

likes, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated! ੈ♡˳

#tony stark #tony stark smut #smut #tony stark drabble #tony stark oneshot #tony stark one shot #tony stark imagine #tony stark fanfic #tony stark fanfics #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #tony stark x reader #tony stark x female reader #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #x reader #imagine #mob boss!tony stark #fanfic #relationship

[winterspiderpurrs]

Peter just casually mentioning how he thinks he has a stalker like it's a perfectly normal thing.

Maybe he sorta knows who it is. But he had never talked to them. But he knows he is being watched.

The bar tender freezes, and he glances toward the back corner table before he continues making Peter's drink. Plopping a decorative umbrella in the drink before sliding it over Peter.

" Compliments from the Boss"

#writing prompt #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #starker #ironspider #winterspiderpurrs #mob tony stark #mob boss tony stark #mob au

[monster-cock69]

peter on the run from an abusive ex and desperately needing an unregistered gun only to fall straight into mob boss tony's hands when he tries to buy one off of his guys

#starker #mob au #anyways #mob boss tony #peter parker #tony stark #avengers #marvel #mafia au #someone please write this #prompt

[sunnysideprincess]

The thing about gaining Captain's privilege was Nat's idea. Apparently, Pepper's wife had run circles with old Captain before the man croaked in his sleep. The Black Widow had been the next suitable candidate for the throne. But then Natasha Romanoff disappeared off the face of the planet and somewhere else, Natalie Rushman popped up engaged to the newest CEO of Stark Industries. So Captain Sam Wilson had lasted three or four years, grieving his partner's death and ever so vigilant against Hydra or the Flag Smashers. Except some sassy twink working for his sister stole his heart and the next thing, there's Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes sitting on the throne as if it always belonged to him.

When Howard died, leaving behind a legacy of blood, carnage and betrayal, all Tony knew was that the ticker in his heart won't be ticking for too long (though he was the only one who knew that apart from Bruce) and that the blood on his hand won't ever wash off. The whole world had been shocked when he shut down the weapons division. His most secret contacts foamed in their mouth. Shield was sitting like a gaggle of spoiled children denied their toys for Christmas. And Thaddeus Ross had all but threatened to kick Rhodey to the curb if his boys weren't given the Merchant's special rewards. Though joke was on him, when his Rhodeybear got his ass for illegal experiments that exploded a part of new Harlem.

Cheers to the stars, Tony Stark had pulled through in the nick of time and presented the world with SI's only saving grace: house hold appliances, defense utility for the army and now, green energy.

But the thing is—though the name dies, the enemy doesn't. And Tony Stark had a whole list of people who wanted him dead. (Not that they'd need to do much, if Bruce's warning went by anything.) Pepper had been crying the whole day when her new PA, Maya Hansen tried to kill him with a kitchen knife on the word of Aldrich. So Natalie-Natasha, whatever just took his hand and dragged him off to her old hangout.

It was there Tony came face to face with his biggest problem.

Of all things, Tony fucking Stark was no inexperienced twink living off the dime of his father. He wasn't some blushing virgin in the sheets. But he swears to god, his whole face had gone up to flames when Barnes looked him up and down like some graveyard judge and then grinned like a shark.

"I was wondering when I'd have the privilege of knowing you, Mister Stark," he recalls being purred over the spill of an expensive bottle of wine.

If his memory serves correct, Natalie had exploded in a world of Russian expletives and lectured Barnes about proper client etiquette. He doesn't remember much after that. But there might have been an obvious display of that gorgeous arm and the promise of a hefty fee for Barnes' personal time ", well I wouldn't call it being wasted, not when I'd be reaping up all the benefits, hmm?"

#mob boss bucky #mob au #tony stark #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #winteriron #buckytony #starbucks #deb writes in between #ficlets #ficlet #mcu #avengers #natasha romanov #pepper potts #blackpepper #peppernat #the plot bunny that didn't die

[sayahs-corner]

You Live Like This?

Rating: E

Pairing: STONY

Summary:

Mob-AU in which Steve Rogers in the head of the organized crime ring known as the Avengers. They rule New York with an iron fist and a take-no-prisoners attitude. Howard Stark has been getting in his way, bungling his deals, and selling SI weapons on the black market to the Avenger's enemies. Not to mention he is actively helping the police track down and capture his people. Steve can't let that stand. What better way to get back at man then to capture his only son? Tony is out of the frying pan and into the fire. Living under an alias in a rundown apartment in Brooklyn, it's been a little over a month since he escaped out from beneath the press of his father's thumb. Disowned for the crime of being gay, Tony has been flying under the radar and trying to keep a low profile. That is, until he is captured by his father's enemies. They want their money back, and someone is going to pay. Tony knows it won't be Howard.

Tags/Warnings: Rape/Non-con Elements, Mob Boss Steve Rogers, Twink Tony Stark, Angst, Whump, Beating, Non-Consensual Bondage, Blackmail, Humiliation, Face-Fucking, Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia

 @stonyauniverse

Chapter 1: Chapter One

Chapter Text

Tony stood in the doorway to his new apartment, tired whiskey eyes drinking in the sight of the amber afternoon light streaming in through the windows and dancing across the well worn parquet floors. It cast dancing shadows against the white, pock-marked, walls and across the freshly painted white kitchen cabinets. It was a studio apartment, small by most standards - Tony was actually sure one of his old closets had been bigger than this place - but it was solely his. Or, rather, it was Anton Valentino’s apartment. His new and improved alias. He shifted the small box on his hip with one hand, fingertips indenting the warped cardboard, while the other hand curled protectively around a small and rather sad looking potted fern whom Tony had named Geoff. It looked like Geoff had definitely seen better days, but then to be fair, so had Tony. 

The last couple of weeks had been nothing but a series of rather unfortunate events, starting with his father catching him in flagrante delicto with Chuck, the pool boy. Well, considering that Chuck was actually thirty six to Tony’s mere twenty two, he supposed it was safe to say that his father had caught him fucking the pool man. And if he wanted to go a step further he’d suppose that, technically, he had gotten caught getting fucked by the pool man. Semantics. What could he say? He had some pretty severe Daddy issues that he was doing his damndest to work through. With sex. 

Sex with older men. 

Okay, so he wasn't doing jack-all to work through any perceived traumas. Daddy or otherwise. Old, young, it didn't matter. Tony just liked men.

Which, you know, was kind of a major faux pas in the Stark household. He had been able to see the vein in his father’s forehead pulsing clearly enough that he was able to gauge the old man’s heart rate. So when dear-old-dad had exploded in a fit of rage, Tony had not been surprised. His tongue darted out to wet his still sore lower lip from the backhand that had sent him sprawling to the floor. Howard had stood there, murder in his eyes, and called him all sorts of homophobic slurs before disowning his only child.  

Tony rolled his eyes. How trite. Being disowned over his choice of bedpartners? Gag. 

How pedestrian. 

Someone call the 90’s and tell them they’re missing their textbook homophobic father-figure. The old man had even dragged out the whole “No son of mine” speech before throwing his ass out of the house with nothing but the clothes on his back. 

As a teenager, and then later as a young adult, Tony had run the gamut of rebellious behavior aimed toward getting Howard to do just that. With all the underage drinking, drugs, and generalized assholery, Tony had not once ever considered that it would be his sexuality that would be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He wasn’t complaining. 

Not by a long shot. 

His mother’s death ten years ago had changed his father irrevocably, turned him into some sort of control freak. Only, this particular control freak was in charge of a multi-million dollar company with endless power and money at his fingertips. Especially when he was using Tony’s original designs and formulas to turn more of a profit. Tony had been working, under the table, for his father since the time he was knee high. There weren't many pies at Stark Industries that Tony had not dipped his finger into at one point or another. Howard had been fine with that once, encouraged it even, as one day the company would fall to Tony. The heir. The golden goose who just kept laying. So Tony’s every minute of every day had been micromanaged to the nth degree.

If he had known that all it would take for his father to loosen the leash he had wrapped around Tony’s neck like a noose was to be caught in the act of sexual congress with another man then…

Well…

It didn't matter. Tony shook the thought away, lips compressing into a thin line before he stepped fully into his new home. He pinched off that spark of hurt, ground it out, refused to feel it or acknowledge it. He had a new lease on life, a chance to actually do what he wanted, to prove that he didn't need dear-old-dad or his wealth to make it in this world.  How many nights had he sat up, staring at his vaulted ceiling, and dreamed of having the opportunity to do just that?

He was going to win, prove them all wrong. He didn't need his father’s name, or his vast wealth, to make it in this world on his own. He was freakishly smart, with a photographic memory and an eye for detail. His ideas were good ones, no matter what Howard said to the contrary. He was so sick of people telling him who and what he could be. Telling him his worth.

For the first time in his life he was going to be allowed to determine that on his own. He was excited at the prospect. He knew his father thought that Tony would come back eventually, tail tucked between his legs, begging for his chance to be welcomed back into the family fold.

That was never, ever, going to happen. There was no forcing the rainbow colored skeleton back into the proverbial closet.  Tony wasn't going to give up who he was to pander to his father. He was done with all of that, and free for the very first time in his entire life. 

Sort of. 

Certified genius that he was, Tony was going to have to pump the brakes on the whole tech-savant thing. He knew that once his father calmed down he was going to realize just how much Stark Industries depended on Tony. He was, afterall, most of the R&D department. Once that happened it was going to be a matter of time before the old man started to keep tabs on him. Tried to manage him again. The last thing he needed to do was start making waves.

Hell, it had only been three days after Howard had kicked him out that Jarvis had pinged him, letting him know that the old man was looking for him - not with any real urgency, not yet. But the old man was putting feelers out there to see what cropped up. Jarvis was his new personal AI, named after the family butler who was more a father figure to him than his actual father, and although it was still a work in progress, he was far more advanced than any other AI that Stark Industries had to offer. Or anyone else, for that matter.

It was a matter of a few swift keystrokes to send his father looking westward, toward California to be exact. With the help of his AI he was able to plant a trail of false breadcrumbs, pointing Howard’s security team toward the opposite side of the country. If they ever did go looking for him, it would take weeks before they figured out that Tony wasn't where he was supposed to be. 

No, he was right under his father’s nose. He had never left New York, and he had no plans to either. It was the last place Howard would come looking for him. Most people would run, if given the chance, to try to put as much distance between themselves and Howard Stark’s empire. Tony wasn't so naive. He knew exactly just how far his father’s reach extended and Oceans apart wouldn't be far enough to escape that megalomaniac’s grasp. No, it was better to hide where he’d least expect it. 

Instead he had taken on an alias, Anton Valentino, and over the past couple of weeks had managed to beg barter and steal enough cash to get him a deposit on the cheapest apartment he could find. It hadn’t been easy.  He already had an interview lined up at the cafe three blocks over. His plan, for now, was to keep his head low and just… live his life.

Talk to strangers. Make mistakes. Have fun. Maybe, hopefully, make some friends. 

He was finally going to get to live life on his own terms. He couldn't wait. 

Nudging the door closed with his foot, Tony took a deep breath before a broad, unadulterated, smile broke out across his face.

This…this was going to be great.

________________________________

One Month Later…

This fucking sucked.

Tony fought off another jaw cracking yawn, his hands automatically going through the motions of wiping down the front counter of Bea’s Beanz. It was nearing eight o’clock at night, and Tony had arrived bright eyed and bushy tailed at about five am that morning to help open. The closer had never showed up, leaving Tony to pick up the slack.  Again. Taylor was officially on his shit list. No sob story was going to cut it this time. Tony had barely been there for a month and he’d already had to cover for Taylor at least three times this week alone. Not that he couldn't use the extra hours, if he was being honest. Making a living in New York was exhausting when his options were so limited. The first week he had sold plasma twice so that he could actually afford to feed himself. Right now his diet consisted of ramen noodles, rice and beans, and free espresso which was miles away from the caviar and steak dinners he was used to.

But he liked his new job. Loved the smell of fresh ground beans, the scent of espresso wafting in the air. He liked that he was busy, that it was one face after the other, all perfectly unique in their own way. He liked making small talk, getting to know the people in his neighborhood, and making his customer’s laugh and blush. Especially the old ladies. Tony was a hopeless flirt, a natural born charmer, and often used that to his advantage. Even Bert, the owner, had mentioned that the tip cup seemed to fill up faster when Tony was working the register. 

Working with Bert was great. Tony got to manage the counter, flirt shamelessly, and make money while doing it. At the end of his shift he got to keep all the tips - Bert never took any. With anyone else he’d have to split those tips, and potentially lose face time with some of the hot college boys and blue collar workers that rolled through the cafe.

He even had a couple of dates set up for later this week. Not that he was actually interested in the sex. If he were being honest, Tony was just looking for a meal that wasn’t rice and beans or maruchan beef ramen. If that made him a bit of a user? Well, color him shamelessly guilty then. It was well worth it, in Tony’s opinion. And  it wasn’t as if he was going to dine and dash. Tony was a great conversationalist. People enjoyed talking to him as much as they enjoyed his flirtatious banter. There was no way anyone was going to leave a date with him and say they had a terrible time. 

Not possible.

 Making people feel good made him feel good. And hey, it just so happened that he made a mean cup of coffee. It had not taken him very long at all to master the art of coffee making. He was, afterall, a genius with a photographic memory. His latte art was, admittedly,  going to take some practice though. 

All and all he seemed to be doing okay. Except, right now, there was nowhere he’d rather be than at home, slurping down some noodles and munching through the three day old pastries that had been slated to be thrown out. Working at a cafe did have its perks. Bert didn't mind if he took home the pastries, happy that at least someone would get to enjoy them. 

His gaze flitted over to the clock on the far wall, watching the seconds tick by with a sort of agonizing slowness. He’d already wiped down the tables, swept the floors, cleaned the machines, and restocked for the opening shift. Tomorrow would be his first day off this week, and Tony was planning on spending the majority of it sleeping. 

Being poor was exhausting .

He’d have to wake up at some point though, and get ready for his date with Craig, the very nice personal trainer that had asked him out on his first day at the cafe. Big bulky muscles, broad shoulders, and a receding hairline. They were going to meet at the pizza place about a twenty minute walk from Tony’s apartment. It was Craig’s second choice of restaurant, Tony had to veto the nicer Italian place Craig had wanted to go to originally. Too close to his old haunts, and too far to walk. Tony wasn't paying money to uber anywhere. If he couldn't get there by foot, he wasn't going. His lips quirked upward at the thought. He’d become a bit of a stingy penny pincher. 

He really didn't have a choice in the matter, though.

He’d gotten an air mattress a few days ago which had sadly depleted most of his funds. It would be a long time before Tony forgot the way his hands had trembled a bit as he counted out the bills. A few months ago he wouldn't even have sneezed at that amount. But he had been able to stumble across a dented, slightly wobbly, folding chair out by the dumpster. He’d get around to fixing the wobble sooner or later, and he’d also  been able to slap together a table using broken wood pallets. 

Was it pretty? Not by a long shot. Did he have to eat his ramen sitting on the floor? Also, no.

The rest, like a real mattress and dresser, a couch and tv… that would all come in time. There was a second hand shop that he’d stumbled across a few blocks from here that looked promising. Next paycheck Tony would see if he could find something to make his home… more home-ish. Cuz right now? It was actually rather home-ly.

But it didn't matter. Because it was his. Soon he’d fill it with things that sparked his passion, that spoke to him. Books and projects, art and tchotchkes. He didn't exactly have a five year plan lined up right now, but he liked to imagine that he wouldn’t always be in the little flat in Brooklyn. That eventually he’d find his way out from beneath the firm press of his father’s thumb. He wondered what that freedom would look like. What he would do then, completely unfettered, able to pursue whatever dream struck his fancy. He knew whatever it was, it would change the world.

He was Tony Stark, after all.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sharp chime of the door. His eyes flicked again to the clock on the far well. 7:58pm. Tony managed to stifle the sigh that wanted to escape him. It wasn't too long ago that he would have been the type of person to just waltz into an establishment that was mere minutes from closing. He wouldn't have thought anything of it. Just smile, charm, and flash his palladium credit card. Oh, he had always been generous, leaving big tips and big smiles, but for the first time in his life Tony was realizing that he had also been kind of an asshole too. 

Perspective was crazy like that. 

So he did what countless other service people had done for him over the years. He simply put on a bright smile that didn't quite meet his eyes and a chipper “Good evening gentlemen, what can I get started for you?”

The gentlemen in question did not seem impressed by his cheery customer service if the scowls that marred their faces was anything to go by. There were three of them, all kind of broad of shoulder and a little rangy, dressed mostly in black. Tony wondered if that was an accident, or if they had coordinated their outfits - like some sort of grumpy looking boy band. The thought brought a smirk to his face. One of them hung back by the door, arms crossed over his chest with an irritated look on his face, as if he would rather be anywhere than right here right now. Tony felt his pain. 

The two men approaching his counter moved at a steady pace, their faces unsmiling. One was blonde, with short, spiky hair and bright blue eyes. The other had deep brown eyes, and close cropped jet black hair. 

“Yeah, I’ll take a salted caramel Latte.” His friend turned to stare at him, rather pointedly, to which blondie simply shrugged.

“I need coffee. I was up all night last night.Judge not lest ye be judged.” 

Tony shook his head, his hands already going through the motions of preparing the latte as he listened to the two of them bicker in furtive whispers.

“Can I get anything else started for you guys?”

“No.” Stocky, dark, and handsome spoke up - his voice colored with irritation. “That’s gonna be it.” 

“Though, I wouldn't mind a blueberry danish - if you’ve got one left.”

Tony slid the latte across the counter, a smile twitching at his lips. “One blueberry danish, coming up. Looks like you got the last one.”

“Shit this is some real good coffee.”

“For fucks, sake, Clint. What is wrong with you - we have a job to do.”

It was as Tony was bending down in the display case to grab the last blueberry danish that he saw, through the frosted glass of the display case, that which he had missed earlier. He’d blame it on a lot of things. The first being that he was so goddamn tired his eyes were starting to cross. The second that it had been almost two months, and he’d been given no warning of people looking for him through Jarvis. He usually prided himself on his attention to detail, both large and small. He had definitely missed the mark here, though. Both of these guys were packing heat. And the angry one actually had his fingers wrapped around the gun, safety off. It was an SI weapon. One he had designed himself five years ago. 

Fuck.

It was him. Tony was the job. Were these his father’s men? They didn't strike him as the type of goons dear old dad usually hired. They weren't starchy enough, for one, and certainly not professional by any stretch of the imagination. 

It was a monumental effort to keep a smile on his face as he took the danish out of the case with one hand, and reached for the full carafe of decaf coffee he had brewed only an hour prior. As the two turned away from their bickering, Tony threw the carafe in an arc. He didn't stay to watch as that scalding hot coffee splattered both of them. Nor to see if the danish that he had thrown at the blonde met its target. He was already bolting toward the back room.

You Live Like This? - Chapter 1 - sayah1112 - Marvel [Archive of Our Own]

#stony #tony stark #steve rogers #AU mob #mob boss steve rogers #twink tony stark #stony fanfiction #r1stonyauniverse

[every-marveler-ever]

Fairness of Lego Distribution

Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Round 2 | 📪 @marvelrarepairbingo | Crime/Mob AU

All Caps Bingo Round 1 | 🤷 @allcapsbingo | Washington D.C.

Stony AUinverse Round 1 | 😝 @stonyauniverse | Surprise Facetime

2023 masterlist :: (ao3 link)

RATING: Teen WARNING: Mob Boss AU, Tony Stark can be mean, Sam Wilson doesn't care, Peter Parker is adorable, "LANGUAGE!"

Nobody knows why there is a shipment coming from Washington DC or what it includes. They just know Tony didn't make it, and Tony doesn't love when people do things without telling him. | Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

rpb 📪 round 2 | acb 🤷 round 1 | saub 😝 round 1

“Why the fuck would we be agreeing on shipment from Washington DC?” Tony asks in frustration across the room, sitting at a large table with those he trusts sitting around him. People who definitely shouldn’t have let this large of a shipment go underneath the radar until now. Sometimes it felt like Tony needed to do all the work between them. 

While everyone else looks around to weather scared of the outcome if they don’t find out, Sam Wilson plays with the gun on his waistband, unfazed. “Steve brought them, thought you knew about it,” he shrugs and as Steve’s best friend it is times like this that Tony is regretful to let him into the inner circle, “I think he mentioned about it being for Peter.” 

That is not as shocking as one might expect for it to be in a mob boss’ home. Peter had quickly taken over the home once moving in and Tony wouldn’t have it any other way. He loved Steve and he loved Peter even more because Peter was half of Steve with even chubbier cheeks and more quick wit than the adults knew what to do with. 

His brain was also incredible and Tony was proud that he could be trusted to nourish it. 

Tony bites his lip not sure how to respond. He was never good at holding his tongue, “what the hell is in that shipment?” Because he expects and hopes that it is not what their normal shipments consist of, drugs and weapons. 

Clint flips through pages and pages of shipping information and location details looking for details disclosing what is in the container stuck in Washington DC. If it is for Peter it could be anything. In the first few months (the first year even) of Peter and Steve living with Tony Steve didn’t feel comfortable spending the ludicrous amounts of money Tony had, but that has slowly changed in the last six months with Peter starting school. Some may blame Tony for always spoiling the younger boy (and Steve) which eventually would rub off on his partner. 

“I think it’s Lego?” Clint finally comes to the conclusion which makes Tony sigh. Lego is huge in their household, Peter, as most six-year-olds are, is obsessed and Tony is happy to indulge and help him build the large sets that his money can afford. It gives them bonding time in the lab which doesn’t give Steve a heart attack thinking the environment is unsafe. 

It isn’t like Tony to just shrug off a large shipment, but for this, it seemed okay. 

Sam rolls his eyes, “we are just letting one of our trucks ship 200 pounds of Lego from Washinton DC to Manhattan because Steve okayed it?” This is the reason that Tony lets Sam sit on the board because he sees through the bullshit that Tony often doesn’t when it comes to his partner. 

Holding his hand up Tony takes to his phone, quieting everybody in the room. The phone displays a Facetime screen, ringing until the person on the other side picks up. 

“Hey babe, is everything okay?” Tony smiles at just the voice of his partner. Steve displayed on the screen doesn’t seem to be bothered by the interference with his sunbathing time if his background of the mansions pool and sun chair is anything to notice. “Yeah everything is fine, I am just wondering what Lego is in the shipment from Washington? Something we can’t get here?” Tony asks with no malicious intent and it makes Sam think that they should let him speak to Steve more often in meetings if this is the reaction. 

Steve on the screen tilts his head from side to side, “I was talking to Natasha and she said that the white house used to get exclusive US Lego, which I thought was unfair, so I asked, politely. They agreed to send some for Peter, said he was so adorable the last time he was there, he deserves an award.” The proud look on both Steve's and Tony’s faces is alike in different ways, Steve is for Peter, and Tony’s is for Steve. 

It is just like Steve to think of the fairness in the world, even when it just comes to Lego distribution. 

Tony pausing gives Steve time to keep adding to his story and reasoning, “And I thought any of the spare Lego because I am sure there will be double ups with how much you buy him, we could donate them,” Tony, while offended, is also extremely proud, “or sell them off at an auction dinner if you think that’s a better idea.” Steve is right, there probably will be multiples of sets and there may be sets that Peter might not want, considering them too easy, and both ideas are great ones. It really shows that Steve is fitting more and more into their world. 

This life is much better with Steve, and Peter, in it. Tony smiles politely talking to the phone again, “I have to go, but we should definitely discuss your ideas later, maybe over a nice dinner.” The smile on Steve’s face is bright enough to light the entire room and maybe the one over as well, “love you, babe,” he responds to Tony mimicking the phrase before hanging up the call. 

The atmosphere shifts and Tony’s smile fades and becomes the stern look that he leads with. 

“What’s next,” he asks waiting for a quick response. Sam thinks to himself that they need Steve more often in these meetings because whoever is going next is not going to get the same type of treatment that Clint just got for his update. 

But he will just sit and wait knowing he’s okay, smiling even. 

“Why the fuck did you think talking to, fucking Hammer was a good idea!”

Yeah, he can just sit back and watch.

Cards: (📪 3/25) (🤷 6/25) (😝1/25)

#marvel rare pairs #marvel rare pairs bingo #mrpbingo #marvelrarepairsbingo #AllCapsBingo2023 #r1stonyauniverse #tony stark #steve rogers #tony stark x steve rogers #tony x steve #steve rogers x tony stark #bingo fill #marvel #mob boss au #marvel mob boss au #every-marveler-ever #every marveler ever #marvel au

[macadoodlewrites]

The Devil Doesn’t Bargain - Prologue (Peter Parker Mob AU)

Summary: Peter Parker is well on his way to taking over his adoptive father’s business – but with new threats emerging, Peter and Tony Stark decide that a deal between rivals needs to be brokered. A marriage proposal between enemies brings Hallie straight into the arms of Peter, and it won’t take her long to realise that escape will not be easy.

Warnings: kidnapping, drugging, dub-con behaviour, torture, smut, swearing

Ships: Peter Parker x OC

Main Masterlist

The Devil Doesn’t Bargain Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2k

Being woken up by a banging on his door was not how Peter Parker wanted to start his Saturday morning; it wasn’t how he wanted to start any morning. Perhaps if the knocking had come from a woman - preferably naked - or someone holding a wad of cash for him, then he may have been less angry. But as he knew that the only people with access to the house were Ned Leeds, Harry Osborn or MJ Watson, he felt perfectly justified in yelling, “What the fuck do you want?”

It was Harry knocking. “Get your ass up, Tony wants you.”

“Well Tony can go fuck himself and come and see me if he wants me.”

��Don’t shoot the messenger, Pete,” Harry hollered back. “Just check your damn phone.”

Peter could hear Harry’s footsteps echoing in the hallway as he walked away, probably back to his own bedroom with MJ. If Tony had contacted Harry, it must be important - Tony was the leader of the Stark Mob, one of the most feared gangs in Northern America, and Peter was being groomed to take over the empire. He already had a name for himself as it was - a name that struck fear when mentioned - but he wanted Tony’s title.

Which meant for now, he answered Tony’s calls and messages when required.

Not that Peter didn’t respect Tony - quite the opposite. His parents and Uncle had died when he was ten, and since that day twelve years ago, Tony had inserted himself into his life as a surrogate father, and helped his Aunt May out with tuition, contacts, and practically raised him alongside her. May had been killed two years ago, and since then, Tony had adopted Peter only months before his twenty-first birthday, securing Peter’s place in his dynasty. 

He turned over, reaching across his king-sized bed for his phone. Four missed calls from Tony, and even one from Pepper. There was a text above all of the calls. 

Meet me at base. Now.

Within an hour, Peter was dressed in his usual attire - white dress shirt, black blazer, black trousers, an extremely overpriced watch, and cufflinks with his initials etched into them - and walking into the Stark base. No one bothered him as he went by, he was only given the occasional nod from some of the higher-ups. He didn’t return them. This was business, and his image as the cold, unapproachable, son of the boss was something that he had carefully crafted and wanted to keep. 

Tony’s office was to the back of the base, and Peter knocked as a courtesy before walking in. Tony was sat behind his large black granite desk in his cream leather chair , a stack of files in front of him. There was a large glass of brandy in his hand, and his hair was mussed-up, as if he had been running a hand through it. He barely glanced up as Peter walked in. 

“Sit.”

Peter walked towards the side table next to the cream leather sofa, poured himself a glass of brandy from the glass tumbler, and then took a seat in front of Tony’s desk. 

“It’s nine in the morning, Tony. Little early to be drinking?”

Tony placed his own glass down on his desk and stared Peter down, his eyes tired behind his glasses. “I could say the same to you.”

Peter raised his glass in a mock-cheers. “Careful there, you almost sound like my father.” 

“I’m the closest thing you’ve got to one, kid,” replied Tony, but there was affection underlying his tone. “I have a job for you - a long term one. And you’ll need the boys and their skills to help you.” Peter, Harry and Ned were the perfect team, and Tony knew it. 

“Alright. Why the urgency?”

Peter watched as Tony downed the amber liquid in his glass and took in his appearance. Asides from his tired eyes and rumpled hair, his shirt was creased, the top button undone, and his tie was loose. This was not Tony Stark, leader of the most successful mob in Northern America, the commanding billionaire that the public feared. No, this was the rare Tony that only his family - including Peter - saw. 

“My house was broken into last night,” Tony said, and stood up to get himself another drink. Years of keeping control of his emotions was the only thing that stopped Peter from dropping his drink. “They nearly made it to mine and Pepper’s bedroom. Both Pepper and Morgan are fine, and in one of our other houses. I fired fifteen men this morning for incompetency and have had to check over every one of our cameras and security systems. We caught the men who broke in and they’re currently in interrogation.” Peter couldn’t help but snort. Interrogation meant that the intruders were dead men walking.

“How did they find your address? It’s not on any of our records,” Peter replied, leaning forwards. “The same as mine.”

“It looks like we may have a mole,” Tony explained, his glass nearly full. “But that’s not what concerns me. It’s the who.”

“And who were they?”

“Whittingham men. That was all of the information that we could find on them. They swallowed pills as soon as they were captured, so I have no idea if they were there to harm Pepper, kidnap my daughter, or kill me, but it won’t happen again.”

Gears were turning in Peter’s head. There weren’t many families that would dare put themselves in the same category as the Starks, but the Whittingham’s were one of them. Dominic Whittingham, the leader of their organisation had been locked in a rivalry with Tony for the better part of a decade. They were influential and powerful - clearly more powerful than Peter had estimated as they’d somehow broken into Tony’s house.

“What’s the job?” Peter asked. 

For the first time since entering the office, Tony smiled. He sipped from his drink and placed himself back at the desk, then slid three files over to Peter. 

He opened them. One was the file on Dominic Whittingham - Peter had read through it many times. Know thy enemy, and all that. Dominic was known for his wealth, his charitable contributions to society, and presented himself as a good man. To anyone on the flip side, in the depths of illegal activity as Peter and Tony were, Dominic was as crooked as they came.

The next was on Aiden Whittingham, the heir to the family legacy. He was essentially Peter’s twin, on the other side of the game, the one groomed to take over eventually. Peter had also read through this file many times.

And the final one was on the daughter. Halston Whittingham. 

He knew this file well. It was much smaller than her father’s and brother’s. As far as anyone was aware, she had no dealings in the family business, no hand in any illegal activity. She was a socialite, she attended events for charities, cut ribbons at ceremonies, appeared in magazine covers for her style and family name, and had a reputation as innocent as her father’s was blackened. 

Peter had also done his own separate research on her before, pitched ideas to Tony...

“Tony,” Peter started, staring down at the picture attached to the file. A pretty blonde, smiling widely into the camera. “Why am I looking at her file? What is the job?”

Tony leaned forwards; hands clasped as he leaned on his desk. “It involves Miss Whittingham, Peter...”

NEXT PART

Let me know if you would like to be tagged for updates!

#peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #dark!peter parker #mob!peter parker #mafia!peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman imagine #dark!spiderman #marvel imagine #tony stark imagine #tom holland imagine #mafia boss au #Peter Parker x reader #peter parker x oc

[starkermoods]

Starker Sick little Peter

I know this is a lot like my other moodboard but it’s so hard to find images because I never know what to search

#starker #starker moodboard #tony x peter #peter parker #tony stark #mob boss au #mob #little space #little!peter #daddy!tony