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Eee, so this is definitely not as smutty as you probably hoped it would be, but thank you so much, I had a tonne of fun writing this and imagining different ways it could go 🥰 We so need more pet play in this fandom ❤
If you enjoyed this please consider giving it a reblog!

Lightly NSFW.

“Sit”. The word was accompanied by a downward hand gesture and Peter, who’d been mid-way through talking about his day, sat immediately, still happily chatting. “Stay” Tony added when he paused for breath, and Peter powered on through his tale as Tony began to move around, working on his latest big project. 

“He’s not a dog, Tony” Steve Rogers (and, seriously, how cool was that?!) frowned from the doorway, and Tony scoffed where he leaned over a rotary converter. 

“You think I don’t know that? A dog wouldn’t talk half as much” but he winked at Peter as he said it, and the teen flushed and grinned before he switched to telling them about winning top mark in the physics test. 

He didn’t really think about it until much later in the evening when Tony scoured his workbench for a tool he needed, spotted it on a rack across the lab and gestured to Peter then the tool, an idle and thoughtless go fetch passing over his tongue. 

He was halfway across the lab when he realised  the connotation the words had; the tingle they sent down his spine, and he was struggling to analyse it as he took hold of the tool and brought it dutifully to Tony, sitting on the stool besides him and studying him as he worked. 

Sit. Stay. Fetch.

He’s not a dog, Tony. 

The sudden mental image of being collared and leashed in Tony’s grasp, on his knees and wriggling in delight as Tony murmured good boy in his ear shot through him like a bolt of electricity and he gripped the edge of the table so hard it creaked threateningly, garnering a raised brow from his mentor (and sort-of-secret-boyfriend!!).

He wasn’t sure what to do with the realisation or idea, didn’t know how to deal with the surge of heat that went through him each time Tony uttered the relevant phrases, be it in the lab or the bedroom. 

Tony was less forthcoming with the specifics outside of the lab or in the presence of others, but here and there it slipped through like water, cracks he couldn’t plug fast enough. They were at a press gathering for the domineering tech brands of that years when Peter lagged behind in the crowd, distracted by a toddler who’d dressed like Tony, fake beard and all. 

Tony was midway through talking when he noticed the lack of chatter at his side and he turned, heart in his mouth for a moment before he caught sight of Peter. 

“Hey, shortstack! Come, heel!” He motioned for Peter to join them, a two-fingered beckoning somewhat like one would do to bring a dog to their side. Peter scampered after him without a second thought but Happy frowned as they stepped through the security, looking between them. 

“A little less Lassie and a little more official intern, boss” he suggested gruffly as they took their panel passes from the table. 

Tony cast him an unreadable glance from behind his shades and continued wordlessly into the panel room, a hand low on Peter’s spine. 

“Does it bother you?” Tony rumbled in his ear later, midway through an admittedly intense making out session in the penthouse, Peter perched atop his thighs and shuddering in his grasp when he rasped his stubble along his jaw. Peter paused in where he’d been moaning in his ear. 

“Does what?” 

“When I talk to you like that. When I tell you you’re a good boy or to do something”. Even as he said the words Peter twitched in his grip, and then the kid rearranged himself, slinking down until he was sat on Tony’s thighs before he ground forwards, dragging their hard cocks together.


Well then. 

“That’s something we should explore more of, sweet thing” he purred with a smile, nipping at Peter’s ear and relishing in the soft whine that followed.

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Eeee, hiii M! Thank you so much for this. I was secretly hoping someone would give me an excuse to write something based off this 😂 Although now it makes me want to write that super sketchy Starkercest version I had in mind…
This is short and sweet, but I hope you like it anyway! 
Prompt based off this gifset post ❤
Please consider reblogging this if you enjoyed it! 


Peter agrees to go without question. In truth; Tony doesn’t even have to ask. One look into eyes that are a little too wild around the edges and the teen understands well the look of a trapped animal desperate for freedom. 

Aunt May is still on her honeymoon, the Avengers have re-building the Compound handled from here, and in less than two hours they’re packed into the non-sportiest car Tony owns, chewing tarmac in a random direction, bags in the trunk and 70’s Rock filtering through the radio. 

Tony looks tired. Always, yes, but more so these days. Older, too, though no less handsome. Idly Peter thinks that anyone who didn’t know them would presume they’re father and son or even grandfather and grandson and the idea makes him twitch in his seat, cheeks heating in a curious mix of thrill and shame. 

He doesn’t ask where they’re going. 

He doubts Tony would have an answer for him even if he did. 

The close-knit bustle of New York begins to smooth out gradually, like a pen running out of ink. Skyscrapers and chunky brownstones become detached houses and office blocks, parks and green spaces between each building. 

As the distance between civilisation grows, so too does Tony’s relaxation, shoulders dropping and breathing evening until he’s leaning back in his seat, gaze on the road ahead but no longer like he’s attempting to overtake the horizon. 

Peter decides that by the time they’re ready to come back; he’ll have made sure Tony doesn’t want to chase the horizon at all. 

Tony’s thigh is warm under his palm, solid flesh with just the right amount of give when he squeezes. Habit has his hand a little higher than strictly appropriate when someone’s behind the wheel, but.

“Everything will be okay, Tony” he assured, the most words either of them have spoken since Peter asked if he needed to pack a coat, shorts or both. He can’t help staring; watching the way the golden sunlight falls over Tony’s face and illuminates it ivory with the streaks of grey in his hair and beard. 

Wonders idly if Tony had been dyeing his hair before, or if there was truth to the saying that stress gave you more grey hairs. 

Tony glances at him briefly, somewhere between amused and like he might argue, so Peter tightens his grip just a little, slides his hand another inch higher until one of Tony’s hands drops from the wheel to snag it, interlocking their fingers and squeezing gently. 

“Let’s not risk that sentiment by letting that hand get higher while I’m driving” Tony allows eventually. Peter’s sorely tempted to say then find a place to pull over, but they have all the time in the world for that (he doesn’t know that, can’t after the likes of Thanos, but he hopes, he hopeshopeshopes) and so for now he turns back to the sunset stretching out in front of them and thinks about all the places they could go.

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I loved this one! Gosh, there were so many ways I wanted to take this. Thank you so much for the prompt, Non! I hope that this satisfies you. I was so tempted to make this a two parter 😅
If you enjoyed this, please consider giving it a reblog! 

TW: Mentions of grief | Grief processing | Allude to depression 

This time of the year always rolls around quicker than he can prepare for it. Her birthday is hard. Their wedding anniversary is harder. But this…The death date…It hits like a freight train, an unstoppable force of grief and nostalgia that if not for Morgan would render him useless. As it is, dates outside of Halloween, Christmas and her own birthday don’t really mean much to her at this age, so where he wakes up immediately wanting to go back to sleep for the next week, she wakes up and begins bouncing on his head, shrieking about cereal and flowers. 

“Wh’was ‘ah ‘bout flowers?” He grumbled, rolling away out of the danger zone of her spindly little legs. This was a day of shit-pot luck, though, and no sooner had he settled on his side away from her did a flailing elbow strike him across the temple. 

Flowers! You left a note on the fridge that said we needed flowers today” she chirped, planting her tiny hands on his bare shoulder and shaking him with strength no six year old should possess. When his brain had stopped rattling around like a marble in a bean can he grumped and groused his way into sitting upright, rubbing at his temples. 

After Morgan had gone to bed he’d stayed up, drinking the whiskey he’d promised himself he wouldn’t buy and looking at the photographs he’d promised he’d never unbox. It was the same every October 11th, a habit harder to break than being addicted to crack. It left him worse for wear each time, doubling his misery. 

“Alright, bug. Go make yourself cereal. Daddy’s gonna shower and get dressed”. Her bony little heel caught him in the kidney as she scrambled off the bed and he wheezed as he pulled himself upright, staggering into the bathroom. Not for the first time, he considered enrolling her in a martial arts class. She could be a champion by the time she was ten, if not just for the fact that all her opponents would be in the accident and emergency room.

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Against my better judgement, my prompts are never closed! Thank you so much for this super sweet/angsty prompt, Nonnie! I realised after finishing this that I never directly included Peter asking for forgiveness, but I hope this feeds you just the same! ❤

TW: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Self-worth issues | Jealousy | Alcohol mention


Harley Keener is two years Peter’s senior and nicer than Peter could have ever imagined. When Tony had first started to talk about the ‘the first one he pseudo-adopted’ and how Harley had grown into more of a ‘mini me’ than he could’ve imagined, Peter had felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut. 

What if Harley was better than him?

What if Tony liked Harley more?

What if, with Harley around, Tony didn’t want Peter around anymore?

He needn’t have worried, though. Harley wasn’t as ‘outwardly’ nerdy as he was, but he was more than happy to gush over the latest Star Wars LEGO offerings, and Tony snarked them both in equal measure. It was surprisingly like having another Ned around, and it took less than a week for Peter to feel stupid for having worried about his place besides the two of them. 

Tony even joked that Harley was the ‘prototype’ and Peter was the ‘updated model’, to which Harley had just rolled his eyes, knocked Tony’s spanner off the table like a cat and gone straight back to talking to Peter about ComicCon.

They became fast friends, and Peter supposed that was somewhat why he tended to forget there was a second person in the lab with them here and there, starkly (heh) reminded of it when Harley flopped down next to him on the penthouse couch one evening and said “so how long have you been in love with Tony?” 

He could have cried. The Avengers he was around almost every other day for the past two years brushed off his doting as a hero complex and ‘mentor crush’ and it had taken Harley Keener less than three weeks to call him out on its true nature. 

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I’m gonna go ahead and rec this new little snippet by one of my faves. It deserves so many more notes. 
Also, I now run the @starkerficlibrary for these kinda requests ❤

I’m Sorry, Mr. Stark | @spidercakes

And bc this fic is literally one of my fave ‘classics’ for this,
Last-Name Basis

10/10 good shit, 100% recommend

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  • Peter Parker, adopted by Ben & May Parker aged 3 with no known other siblings going out to a bar because his parents have just discovered he might have a sibling and he’s Not Ready For That and meets a handsome stranger who just introduces himself as ‘Tony’. 
  • They hit it off so well, and Peter knows he shouldn’t but Tony is just so nice and so handsome so he goes home with him. And its the best fuck of his life so far. Tony’s mouth could give a nun a heart attack. 
  • And X amount of days later (or Hell, even the very next day after he woke up to a note from Tony saying he had something to do, he’s welcome to coffee and to see himself out) he comes home and there’s this stranger on the couch. 
  • And its Tony, who looks appalled for all of 0.2 seconds before giving him this blatant once over and lazy, salacious smirk. 
  • May is fretting by the doorway saying “I’m sorry Peter, I just…I couldn’t not get in touch”.
  • And Tony winks at him and licks his lips, stands up and holds out his hand and says “nice to meet you, little brother.”
  • Alternatively, hello, son 👁👅👁
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The text comes at 5:15pm, unexpected and ominous as he scrolled idly through Tumblr.

[The King] Report to couch. [17:15]

Peter’s brows furrowed as he aat bolt upright, re-reading the message. Report to couch? He mouthed to himself, head tilting. Tony had never used the word ‘report’ before. Even when they were actually reporting back.

“JARVIS?” He asked the room.

“Yes, Mr. Parker?”

“Where is Mr. Stark now?”

“The penthouse common area, Sir”.

Hm. Ergo; the couch. Peter shuffled out of bed and slipped on a pair of Vans, padding out of his room and down the hallway to the indoor balcony that surveyed the lower portion of the penthouse. He could see the couch from there and he could see Tony and…Steve?

Peter’s heart plummeted. He tried to turn on his heel and creep back to his room. He could pretend he was asleep; ask JARVIS to lie for him. Tony was facing the opposite way and his hearing probably wasn’t that good at 46.

“I know you’re there, Parker” Tony called out, and Peter cursed softly. Far below, Steve snorted and promptly swallowed the sound. Peter turned on his heel and made his way down the sweeping staircase.

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Only one thing ever made Tony Stark think twice about fulfilling his full potential.
Two little words on the inside of his wrist, where his soulmark sits, ghostly, waiting for him to recognize his soulmate in some unredeemable way.
He always knew he’d hurt them. But when he discovers his soulmate is none other than the feisty little Spiderling swinging around his streets, he realizes things are a lot worse than he ever could have thought.

Notes: So this just hit me in the middle of the night while reading fanfiction and avoiding hw the other night. I’ve got several ideas for it going forward, so this isn’t a one shot, but with midterms right around the corner I can promise nothing. Sorry. But I love you all and I’m hoping to get the next part out soon. <3 Enjoy, and I’d love to hear what you think!

This is unbetaed, so sorry for any mistakes.

Also, if anyone is interested, I realized while titling this that the song I took inspiration from is actually a lot more relevant to this story than I thought, and even more so the play itself. You can consider it the theme song for this story. The song is called “All That Matters,” from the Broadway cast of Finding Neverland. If you ever get the chance to see it, you most definitely should, or at least listen to the soundtrack. So listen to that if y’all get a chance, and do with that what you will.Okay, now enjoy! 💙

Only one thing in the world had made Tony think twice about fulfilling his full potential.

It wasn’t his friends. Or family — not that he really had any to speak of. Not his position at SI, not fear for his life, his work, his legacy, or anything of the sort.

It was the last thing someone would expect, honestly. Even for a man like Tony, an alpha with such power, who commanded such respect, had to have a soulmate. One he was expected to love, cherish, and yes, even a man like him craved that. He hadn’t met them yet, though, his soulmate, but the two words branding him, marking him with the words from his soulmate that will seal their bond, are there, have always been there, carefully hidden away from the public eye… and terrifying him in a deeper way than anything else could.

Please don’t.

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Oh, honey 😔 I’m so sorry for your loss. I can absolutely put together a list of fanfiction for you and I hope it helps to soothe your mind a little. My inbox is also always open for whatever you need ❤

To Build A Road (That Leads to Your Heart) | @starkerscoop
Velvet Elvis 
Leftovers | @
Take Me (Off Speaker) | @starkerisendgame

I tried to keep them sweet and fluffy for you, I hope these help sweet Non. If anyone has any other fluffy, sweet fics to share please don’t hesitate. 

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One night, when everyone is at the Compound, the Avengers play a game of truth or dare. Things spiral out of control from there.

Notes: So… hi! I’m new-ish to the Starker fandom (been creeping for a while, not gonna lie, but I finally got the courage to make my own blog to post some of the crap I’ve been working on). This is my first attempt at anything Starker, so if it’s not as good as you’re hoping for, sorry. I’ve had this posted on AO3 for a while now; it was my first fill for Starker Bingo, and I haven’t done another fill yet, and I’m not sure I will at the moment. But I am working on some other stuff! 

Anyway, I hope people enjoy this! It ends rather abruptly, I know, and I’ve toyed with continuing it, but so far I haven’t yet. The only trigger warning I have here is that Peter is still a teen, but he’s above the age of consent. So yeah. Story below the cut! Enjoy!

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Hey there, honey!

You are correct in that the work is called ‘The Thirsty Stenographer’. It was written and uploaded to AO3 by the user StarkRavingSpiders, however it and the parent account have unfortunately been deleted. 


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Kinktober Prompt Fills #5: Sexting in Public

Click here to learn more about our kinktober prompts list!

Notes: This is a Fake text messaging fic to begin with! The last short bit is written 🥰🥰🥰

Warnings: Nff, sexting in public, daddy kink, light bdsm, dirty talk

Summary: In which Peter and Tony met through FetLife and have an… Interesting moment together.




Tony gasps as he bumps into someone. He curses under his breath. He knows very well that it’s fault to run into someone while texting, but that doesn’t mean the other person couldn’t have paid attention. He- Oh God.

“Mr… Mr. Stark?”

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So you probably didn’t mean this as a prompt but my lizard brain sort of glued itself to cock worship and I kinda ran with it.

TW: Daddy kink | Breathplay if you squint.

Peter had many things he adored about Tony. An almost endless list, in fact. There was very little he disliked, aside from Tony’s blatant lack of self care, love and respect.

If asked, he’d wax poetic about Tony’s selfless heroism, the way he laughed and the way he looked in a tux. His frighteningly intelligent mind and his sassy jokes.

But they were all, to some extent, a lie.

Or at the least, a half-truth.

No. Peter’s true favourite thing about Tony - Not to sound shallow - Was his cock.

When Tony’s sex tapes were leaked; Peter nearly wanked himself into exhaustion. Took the day off sick to stare slack-jawed and drooling at the shaky videos. Not even the shame of finding out they weren’t consensually recorded wasn’t enough to drive him to delete them.

And meeting the man in person, well. Seeing the way that cock stretched his slacks, the slight jut in thr armour to encompass its mass comfortably…

Even Captain America had resorted to the odd polite cough to bring Peter’s eyes back up to an appropriate level.

The first time Peter had actually gotten up close and personal with it, he’d cried. Literally. Genuine tears had streamed down his cheeks. Tony had been horrified.

Of course, the horror had quickly vanished when Peter had forced himself down on it, inch by underprepared inch, too eager to wait any longer. Too desperate to get a feel of it.

It was a need that had never waned. Not even five months later, when they had tentatively and unspokenly gone from just sexual to something a little more…More.

“Je-esus, kid! Take a breath” Tony hissed above him, practically curling over Peter’s head as the boy hollowed his cheeks, putting a Dyson to shame.

“You are literally-” Peter let his teeth skim the smooth, slick tip. “-The only person who’d complain during a blowjob”. He punctuated it by letting his tongue press firmly into the leaking slit, tasting the pre-cum there.

“I can, when you won’t let me cum” Tony grumbled back, relaxing against the headboard, threading his fingers through Peter’s hair tenderly.

Peter supposed he had a point. Tony had been on the edge of cumming earlier, hips shoving his cock deep into Peter’s throat, right up until Peter had pinned them down, let the suction drop, wrapped his fingers tight around Tony’s base.

Peter couldn’t help it. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. Wanted Tony’s cock in his mouth for hours to follow. Wanted it choking him until Tony was desperate to cum, until he took matters into his own hands.

He licked a fat, wet stripe up the side, then the underside; the other side, laving the hard, hot skin like a cold ice-cream on a hot day. Kitten-licked his way up to the tip and sealed his lips over it, sucked hard until his throat ached with it.

“Peter - Peter, fuck. Fuck. That’s it, baby” Tony groaned, using the handful of hair he held in a tight fist to try and pull Peter down. Peter braced himself on his elbows, resisted.

He wasn’t ready to let Tony cum. Not yet.

The night had started off slow, lazy. Peter had kissed and licked his way down Tony’s stomach, had spent almost twenty minutes simply mouthing at Tony’s cock through his jeans.

Had crawled his way up Tony’s body, ground against him in slow, circular rocks until Tony’s grip went tighter, until he tried to fuck up against Peter’s ass.

And that had landed them here. With Tony so hard his cock was red, verging on purple, so strung out and high on the dragged out pleasure he was rosy cheeked and glossy eyed, chest heaving as he panted.

He suckled his way back down the underside, to the sensitive dip where cock base became balls, suckled here as he used his thumb to abuse the slit, felt Tony writhing beneath him. Coiled like a spring.

“God, that mouth. That fucking mouth. Daddy can’t look at it without thinking about those pretty little lips all stretched around his cock” Tony breathed, and Peter whined even though he saw through the attempt to get him to sweeten up.

Relatiating, Peter steadied himself and sunk down on Tony’s cock, felt the thick stretch of it forcing his throat open, cutting off his air. Suckled and gurgled around Tony’s dick as his breath became short and Tony’s hips bucked in aborted little jumps.

“You’re gonna kill me” Tony whined above him, eyes round and revered as he watched Peter’s cheeks go ruddy. The boy hadn’t even had his cock touched in an hour, but he looked as wrecked as Tony felt.

Peter truly seemed to intend on sending him to an early grave, because some gentle bullying found Tony standing by the edge of the bed, watching in rapt wonder as Peter’s throat bulged around his cock.

“Daddy’s little slut” he cooed affectionately, went to pull out when Peter’s body begun to convulse slightly. But hands found his asscheeks, gripped the meat hard and pinned him in place as Peter squirmed.

“Shit, baby. Baby, let me go. You gotta breathe. You ca-an’t” Tony’s words broke as Peter choked around him, swallowed, finally let him go as the boy gasped for air, hanging off the edge of the bed.

Peter didn’t really give either of them time to recover, drooling as he painted for breath, wrestling Tony back down onto the bed and diving straight back onto his cock with sloppy, loose sucks, more a wet space for Tony to thrust up into.

“You’d swear my cock was a drug and you’re an addict” Tony huffed, gripping Peter’s jaw to pull him off, fingers flexing at the pathetic whine Peter let loose at being denied.

“Can’t help it” the boy drawled in response, wrapping both hands around Tony’s cock and pumping him in slow, twisting strokes. “It’s so perfect. So big. It’s yours”. Fought his way back down to suck the tip like it was oxygen.

Tony could have cum. With his cock twitching a drooling pre-cum over Peter’s tongue, with his hands in the boys hair and pleasure now a raging inferno in his gut.

He was denied.

“Baby. Please. Daddy’s begging you” Tony whimpered, voice rough as Peter kept him teetering on the edge, grip flexing and tongue curling around his cock, breath hot over Tony’s hip.

“Mm” Peter mumbled around him, vibrations making Tony’s whole body seize. He felt like a live wire, electric and ready to explode, fingers twisting harshly in Peter’s dark curls. Peter swallowed him down again, not choking himself but constricting his throat around Tony’s cock, tongue pressed flat and warm, an extra friction on each thrust.

Tony could feel it. Building. Raging. Consuming. Tried desperately not to show it in case Peter stole it from him for a third time, bit his lip and let his head fall back as he rocked up in the slick embrace of Peter’s throat.

Peter must’ve known, though, because as Tony cried out and buried himself down Peter’s throat, the boy swallowed him easily, cheeks hollowed and eyes closed, squeezed Tony tight as cum flooded the back of his throat.

He was sloppy and sticky when he pulled out, slapped his cock a few times against Peter’s swollen, plum-shade lips with a lazy, worn out smile. “Daddy’s perfect little boy” Tony praised, cupped Peter’s cheek.

He let out a rough sound when Peter’s tongue licked up his cock, oversensitive and done for, but the boy was only cleaning up, licking and suckling gently until Tony was cleaner and softening against his jaw.

“You suck dick like you’ll die if you dont” Tony mused, hauling Peter up, over his body to snuggle, the press of the boy’s hard cock digging into his hip, though Peter seemed content just to curl against him.

“A dick like that deserved worship” Peter rasped, looking up at him with a dopey grin.

And worship Peter did. Every blowjob was like a prayer, leaving Tony almost too far gone to bury himself in the boy’s ass. Sucking him down until he was glazing over from oxygen loss; until the ache of his jaw was visible in the way he ground his teeth.

But Tony had never felt more loved or more worshipped than when he was two hours into needing to cum, helpless beneath his boy as Peter licked and sucked.

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