#starker bingo

[shivanessa]

My second entry for the @starker-bingo 2022: Dragon AU. Thanks a thousand times to @king-of-kaoss for betaing and support, you're amazing sweety! 🥰💜

A dragon's tale

Stomping of hooves echoed through the grove.

The horse panted with the high speed it was forced to maintain, jumping between small birch trees. The young man who held fast on the saddle prayed to the Almighty that his ride would not trip on the uneven ground. His locks hit against the sides of his head when he turned around to take a quick look over his shoulder. Prince Peter rode as fast as he could.

It had not been supposed to become this way!

The young prince had been traveling back to the kingdom of his father, riding in a convoy of ten soldiers who were supposed to shield him on the way.

But they had not.

Betrayed he was, alone and without friends, fleeing for his dear life. He bowed low over the horse’s neck and continued his prayers, giving his life into the hands of the Almighty.

***

Peter’s existence had been a slow and peaceful one for the last four years, living in a secluded cloister in the care of his uncle Benjamin, a man of the church, in order to exist only for his faith. As a third son this was meant to be his way since his oldest brother was to be king after his father and his second the advisor of battle and war. Peter had been content with it, thankful for the time he was allowed to spend with his family before they sent him away to learn the ways and rites of the faith in a small and quaint place.

The cloister was located at the border of the kingdom at the foot of the mountains that separated the land from its neighbors. But this - to live the life of a monk and become a man of faith the future king could confide with - was apparently not what destiny had in store for him!

One day the message had arrived that his parents and his older brothers alike had been fallen to murder by poison! All of them had vanished from god’s earth with one strike of a ruthless traitor that had not been found yet. And he, Peter, at the age of barely seventeen was to be the heir and new king.

Silence had fallen over the small cloister with the shock. Father Benjamin decided to send Peter on his way as fast as possible, to prevent a usurper to get a grip on the throne in the heir’s absence. All fear that might have been rising had to be pushed down and Peter had made preparations for the journey into a new life. His last visit at court had been three years ago, but he had spent his whole childhood there and was confident to settle back in soon. The responsibility to be a proper ruler however, was something he tried to not think about.

A delegation arrived shortly after the messenger to guard him on the way back.

In the aftermath it had been naïve to just follow along while his family had fallen to murder. But his uncle and himself, used to a peaceful and honest lifestyle in the eye of the Almighty, had trusted the royal banner and the leader with the kind and polite attitude.

A bad decision that could have ended even worse for the young prince.

Somehow he caught on the strange atmosphere that rose between the men on the second day of the journey and thus stayed alert. So it was only a shock but not a surprise when half of the warriors suddenly stepped up against the others.

It had been early in the morning, even before sunrise and Peter had been up and out of the tent to pee – this was a usual time to get up at the cloister. His full bladder had been a heaven sent because on his way back to the tent he saw the traitors murder the good men in their sleep, to enter the royal sleeping place with ropes and cuffs, looking for him.

Without thinking at all he got on a horse and rode as fast as possible, unknowing the direction, without food and water and no friends at all, right into the forest, ready to give his life and safety into god’s hands.

***

Peter rode fast as long as the horse was able, only slowing down when he feared to injure the poor creature. It was quiet around him, the woods deep and full of shadows. He looked around, trying desperately to confine his labored breathing, his eyes darting back and forth between the barks, but there was nothing. Slowly he continued, keeping as quiet as possible and listening to the sound of the birds to be warned when a group was coming.

He paused by a small stream that murmured through the grove, letting the horse drink and looked around. He had no idea where he was or which direction he had to go. On top of that he knew only a few people at court and had no idea who the traitor might even be. Only that he, Peter, was the next on his list was obvious.

The boy sat down, exhausted, frightened and hungry, pondering on what to do. He had no chance than to move on, trying to reach a village to somehow make it to the capitol city from there. He pondered how he should do this without money or supplies but he had no other chance than to try. Better to not talk about his heritage he thought when he drank some of the water and then led the exhausted horse alongside the stream through the wood.

Somehow he had made the escape from the clutches of the thugs it seemed, because he didn’t meet a single soul on his way through. The thicket was almost impenetrable and he stayed close to the water to find his way.

In the early evening the trees grew lighter and then he stepped out of the woods and found himself between fields and meadows on the foot of the mountains. The tall and blueish structure of the towering rock caught the setting sun between the peaks, making it seem like molten gold that dripped on the country below.

It seemed that his flight had brought him far away from the right path since the kingdom enfolded to the other side but maybe that was what had saved him. The thugs had chosen the opposite direction for their search and lost him.

In a slow pace Peter rode down a small path between the fields, following along to a tiny village that laid secluded between trees and hills. It appeared tiny and somewhat rundown to the eye. This was apparently not a place where the mountains could be passed, so that no merchants and travelers came through. A perfect place to stay the night and make plans if the young prince found a way to get food and shelter without money and without showing his true identity.

Surprisingly the villagers welcomed him warmly in their midst. Peter presented himself as a merchant’s son who had been ambushed while on the road with his family and goods, and barely made it out alive. In fact, the villagers seemed not really to care about his made up story, which relieved him. The less questions, the better.

They asked to tell some stories from the roads since for a long time no traveler had found his way to them and that they were more than happy to exchange some simple food and a place to rest for some news from afar. Peter gladly complied and told them that the king was dead and the youngest son on his way to the castle to be crowned and rule over them all, more he had not to share since his own life had been so secluded. But that was enough apparently, the settlers satisfied and his belly filled with earthen food.

Peter went to bed in a barn, sleeping on the hay. Exhausted as he was, his eyes closed as soon as his head rested on the rough wool of the blanket he had been given, hope for the future in his heart.

***

Peter woke suddenly, in the middle of the night, to people grabbing him on wrists and ankles.

‘The thieves, the traitors! They found me!’ was his first thought but when he fought the relentless grips and glared at the pursuers he saw the townspeople surrounding him. Their faces were stern and the atmosphere tight but with purpose and Peter knew that their agreement to let him rest in their midst had been a pretense to get him into their grasp. But why?!

“What do you want? I have no money and no goods! Take my horse if you must, but let me go!”

But no one answered to his demands and pleas. They dragged him out of the barn and to the village’s border, onto a meadow that was crowned by a large rock in the middle.

Peter’s eyes went wide and his limbs shaking when he saw the ropes that were prepared, to bind him to hooks that were screwed into the rock’s surface. Dark blotches on the rough surface indicated that this stone had seen helpless bodies before and what had happened to them. His blood ran cold and he fought against the hands that pulled him nearer but it was to no avail. Without further ado they bound him to the rock, his hands above his head, his feet together, ignoring his desperate curses and pleas and questions.

Peter felt cold sweat run down his back at the sight of the villagers. Their faces showed no triumph or madness, but determined focus. They didn’t do this because they liked it, they didn’t want to hurt him, but apparently they were dead serious in what they were trying to accomplish.

Somewhere a bell banged loudly for a couple of minutes but then it became quiet. The villagers had left him here for good. The frantic beating of his heart was all Peter could hear.

Dawn started to roll over the fields, painting the sky in bright pink and orange, while Peter was tightly secured to the rock, helpless and alone. The villagers had left without any explanation. Was he to be eaten by wolves or bears? But why lure them to the village like this? It made no sense! He pulled at the ropes, wriggled as much as it was possible but he was not able to free himself and all that he accomplished was to raw up his wrists. His breath was quick and in panic when he watched the sky turn silvery and then blue with the slowly rising sun.

The village was quiet behind him, but it was not the only thing that held its breath. No bird, no insect – nothing stirred. The people had retracted into their houses and except for Peter’s breathing it was quiet.

And then… he heard it.

A rushing and flapping like leather that was thrashing in the wind. It was quiet at first and he only noticed because his senses were pulled tight to a breaking point. But it soon grew more prominent! The sound neared from the mountains and when he looked up he felt his blood run cold as if someone was pouring ice on him.

From the mountains a creature neared the village. A long and slender body, covered in gleaming red scales with strong legs that ended in claws, leathery wings flapping with loud thudding sounds, the head of the beast crowned by majestic horns and glowing golden eyes.

A dragon!

Peter started to pull on the ropes, now aware that this was indeed an altar of sorts to sacrifice people to the beast that was coming nearer with each second. But he could as much free himself as before, doomed to watch his fate closing in on him while his whole body was gripped tight by fear. If he had not been scared out of his mind, he might have found it in him to admire the beauty of the creature. The dark red scales reflecting the sun, speckled with golden dust that made the beast almost look like clad in noble armor. In the middle of its chest rested a blue diamond that shone in the morning sun. But despite power and beauty, to be confronted with such a beast was a nightmare and all Peter could do was hold on tight to his consciousness.

The dragon arrived in front of the bound prince. It landed with a loud thud, his wings flapped one more time to regain balance. The strong wind pressed Peter to the rock but even if not, he would have not moved an inch, he was frozen in place by the pure sight of the majestic beast.

The dragon moved on four legs, his claws gripping into the earth. He slowly neared the rock and his prey. Large nostrils twitched when he took in the scents, while he looked around for a possible threat with his big golden eyes. Deciding the situation to be safe, he came closer, his large and strong body moving with an elegance such a massive beast should not be able to possess. His tail lashed from one side to the other while he sniffed some more.

Peter felt tears well up in his eyes. This was to be his end. Not to be king of his father’s land, or even falling to the hands of the same traitors that had murdered his family, but to please a cruel beast in this godforsaken place. His body trembled in place in the face of death, but he did not move an inch and did not look away for a second. If he was to die here, bound to this damned sacrifice rock, he at least would end his life upright and with the eye to the nemesis ahead.

The dragon tilted its head and blinked. He sniffed again and came closer, now towering above the helpless boy that was tied up like a present. He bowed low and moved his muzzle over the trembling form, inhaling the human’s scent. Then he lifted his head again, looking around for a moment as if he was thinking why this person was presented to him.

Peter felt the body heat of the dragon, saw every gilded dot on the beast’s head while it came even closer, sniffing him all over. The gleaming eyes held not the gaze of a beast however. The young prince saw intelligence there and an old soul.

Maybe… there was hope?

“Please…” he whispered with trembling lips, begging for his life but also for his lineage’s future and his kingdom’s destiny.

The dragon straightened up. The eyes of the boy followed his movement and become so very wide when the beast raised his clawed paw.

The sharp talon cut through the air, aiming for the bound form. Peter closed his eyes, preparing for his death…

… that did not come.

The claw cut through the ropes on his ankles and then on his wrists, freeing him from the stone. Peter sagged forward but was caught by the paw that closed around his torso with no difficulties.

The dragon pulled back before he launched himself into the air, dragging Peter with him like he was nothing more than a puppet. The young prince however, felt his body hauled upward in a tight grip, his legs dangling helplessly beneath him. Flapping sound around him grew stronger with the powerful movements of the dragon’s wings, pulling him and his prey away from the village, leaving into the light blue morning sky.

Frozen with shock Peter stared at the creature that had decided to not murder him on the spot but to take him away to an unknown future.

To be continued...

#starker #dragon au #starker bingo

[eiilleen]

Heeey. I’m partaking in the Starker Summer bingo and excited to see what content I can bring to this ship. I am ridiculously obsessed with these two atm to the point of insanity.

I’ll be updating this post as prompts are filled. Here’s hoping I can score five in a row yeee.

EDIT: for those who have asked, here is my AO3 account <3

EDIT: filled prompts below.

*PROMPT 1 - frottage

*PROMPT 2 - jealousy

*PROMPT 3 - handcuffs

*PROMPT 4: mistaken for a couple

#starker #starker bingo #starker fanfictioin

[thegreenmetblue]

StarkerFestival 2023 : Summer Bingo

Size Kink

Peter tried really hard. The patrols weren’t enough, he needed to do more exercices. See, Peter Parker had a problem. He wanted his older boyfriend to stop seeing him as a kid. So for that, he needed to have a man body. A body that looked like Tony’s.

But trying hard is something not enough, because no matter what he did, his body was still nothing compared to Tony’s. Still looking like a ridiculous kid.

Little did Peter know that Tony was crazy about that size different about their bodies. The fact Peter had still such a young body, he didn’t dare say a kid body, turned him on so much more than it should.

The idea of his large hands covering so much of that body, of his cock going into that tight ass, of holding Peter just like his body was made to hold him like that… It drove Tony crazy.

God forbids him but the day Peter asked him to fuck him with the Iron Man suit on, he went completely feral. Such a fragile boy body in the manhandling arms of that strong and big suit.

Yeah. Tony hoped Peter’s body would never change. Because that size difference was enough to make him hard fast as a teenager.

for @starkerfestivals 💖

#starker #starker moodboard #leah tries moodboards #nff #size kink #sfsummerbingo23 #starker summer bingo #iron man kink if you squint

[truebluedreamer]

For @pparkerbingo square B5: Meet Cute “Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the 'girl is pretty enough to warrant a flower theft' and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard” AU or Aunt May's favorite scent had been lavender. So when Peter passes by the Stark Estate on his usual walk to the family gravesite, he stops to pull together a small bouquet. Until Tony Stark catches him in the act.

Card below cut:

#starker #ironspider #tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #marvel #peter parker #mcu #pparkerbingo23 #peter parker bingo #woohoo #tnpt

[starksvinyls]

Peter stared out at the New York skyline as he waited at the roof top restaurant he was told his date had picked. He had no idea who he was meeting, only that he'd "know him when he saw him." Whatever that meant. He had worn his class ring, the signal to his date who he was, and Peter nervously spun it around his finger as he waited, hoping he hadn't been stood up. At least he had a nice view of Avengers Tower from here.

A throat cleared behind him, and the maître d' smiled as Peter turned around. "Your guest has arrived, he's asked me to bring you over."

He was led to a secluded table near the corner of the roof, hidden behind a small row of foliage, and Peter nearly tripped when he came face to face with Tony Stark.

The man looked up from his phone, eyes scanning up Peter's body as he did, scrutinizing the young man. Mister Stark smiled, then, and gestured to the seat opposite him.

Two hours later, with full bellies and tipsy on wine, they laughed at a joke Tony told, and Peter didn't even remember why he had been nervous in the first place.

for @pparkerbingo square N3 'free space' and; for @starkerfestivals Summer Bingo square O5 'blind date' (cards below the cut)

#pparkerbingo23 #sfsummerbingo23 #starker #starker moodboard #starksvinyls creates #aaand with this i have my first bingo for ppb!!!!!

[trashystarker]

pictures don't lie - a starker one shot

Title: Pictures Don't Lie Fandom: MCU Pairing: Starker (Tony Stark x Peter Parker) Rating: Mature (Modern Day AU - Angst and Feels - Angst with a Happy Ending - Mild NSFW) Word Count: 2,300 Summary: Tony gets caught doing something harmless, and suffers the repercussions of it.

A/N: Here's my next offering for @starkerfestivals summer bingo event! Please enjoy!

---

Red wine dripped off of Tony’s face, his shirt saturated with the beverage that had just been thrown on him. He watched Peter’s retreating form, his lover in clear distress, waving his hands around as he grabbed his keys off the table in the foyer of their shared apartment. He heard Peter yell a loud “Fuck you, Tony!” before storming out of their penthouse, slamming the door shut behind him. 

He reached for a napkin, taking a moment to wipe off the Merlot that had made his face sticky. It was fine. He knew that Peter was going to have a strong reaction to what he’d just told him, but it was better if he heard from him first, right? Tony sighed. Maybe not. Maybe it would have been better another way. 

“Friday - keep an eye on Peter tonight, okay?” He spoke to his AI, who he knew could hear him as he’d programmed the penthouse to always have her on hand. 

“Of course, boss. Did something happen?” Friday’s voice came through the speaker. 

“No.” He lied. Of course something had happened. Another fuck up of his in a long life of fuck ups. And here he’d thought that things had been going pretty well for both him and Peter.

Clearly, that was a mistake. 

The sun was setting on the isle of Manhattan, painting it in the beautiful colors of pink and orange, the skyline lighting up with nature’s beautiful symphony on full display. He left the dining room table and walked towards the balcony, pulling off his wine soaked shirt as he got closer to an escape. He dropped the shirt on the floor and went outside, needing to put space between him and the mess that had happened only twenty minutes ago. 

Things had gone well. Peter had come home after working a bit later in the office. That’s where he’d met him. Tony had hired the best to come out of MIT, and Peter had been the star graduate last year. He put him on a special project that had the two of them working side by side, and through daily interactions it became quite clear to Tony that he’d found his equal. His partner. The person he could trust his life with. 

Thankfully, Peter Parker had felt the same way, and two months after they began to work close together, he moved into Tony’s penthouse apartment. 

A soft sigh left Tony’s mouth as he gripped the railing of the balcony. His heart hurt. His head ached. His shoulders were too tight, and his stomach felt like it was going to regurgitate everything he’d eaten at dinner. Had it been in bad taste to save the important bits of conversation until the end of the meal? In hindsight, he knew that the answer was yes. 

The picture that had caused such a stir in his lover was still on the table, looking like a mocking portrait that could only cause harm to him and his own. Tony hated that there had been a miscommunication between the both of them. Peter had told him that all he wanted from him was honesty. And here Tony was, being as honest as he could be, and was getting screwed because of it. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Letting go of the cool railing, he pulled it out and felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. “I won’t be coming home tonight. Don’t ask me when I’m coming back. I don’t know. I won’t be at work tomorrow. Leave me be for a bit, Tony. Please.” 

Of course he was going to give Peter the space that he deserved. That was needed right now. But, Tony was stubborn. He didn’t want Peter to run away. Not when they could talk about this, and discuss what had happened. “Take care.” It was all he could muster up the courage to say to him, when everything inside of him was breaking apart. 

Walking back inside, he took a look at the photograph and the anger returned. He had done nothing wrong. He’d gone to see his ex, and while the photograph looked more incriminating than it truly was, a picture was worth a thousand words. And it was clear what those words were. 

Cheater. 

Liar. 

Destroyer of happiness. 

Tony had gone to see his ex after a text had been sent to him, requesting for a friendly meeting. Tony didn’t think it was going to turn into this big production, but once he saw this photograph he knew that it was going to ruin everything. One simple act of kindness - two old friends sharing what was only a friendly laugh but could be seen as something more - had taken away the one person he’d cared about the most and pushed him away. 

"I need to show you something.” Tony had said, as they were finishing up their pasta. “And you’re not going to like it.” 

“Why do you think that?” His young lover - younger by about twenty years - looked up at him, the smile he loved to see so much present on his face. “I can’t be mad at you, Tony. You know I love you.” 

“I know, sweetheart. But trust me, this is going to hurt. And please, believe me when I say that I had no intention of hurting you like this.” 

The smile started to slip off of Peter’s face. “Tony, you’re scaring me now. What’s going on?” 

He picked up the manila envelope that had been sitting on the table this entire time, and took the photograph out of it. He put it on the table, and saw Peter’s face begin to grow pale. “It isn’t how it looks.” 

“Bullshit.” Peter pointed at the picture. “That’s Pepper Potts, isn’t it?” 

“It is.” Tony had been open with Peter about his previous partners. Pepper had been someone he’d intended on making a life with, but things never worked out that way. Tony was actually glad that had happened, as it wouldn’t have brought Peter into his life. “But it’s like I said, it isn’t how it looks.” 

“She’s got her arms around you.” Peter kept staring at the image. “You’re laughing.” 

“I know.” 

“You never laugh like that.” 

He felt his stomach twist. “You know that isn’t true, Peter. I laugh with you like that often.” 

“Did you sleep with her?” 

“No.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

The chair Peter was sitting on scraped against the floor as he hastily stood up. Tony was about to say something when Peter picked up his glass of wine, and threw it on him. “Fuck you, Tony.” He heard the tears in Peter’s voice, whether they were from anger or sadness, Tony didn’t know. He watched him leave, and heard him grab his keys off the table. Another loud ‘fuck you’, and his lover was gone.

All because of one stupid moment captured on film, making it look like two old flames rekindling something that was no longer there. Tony knew that Peter had every right to have reacted the way he had. If he'd come across a picture of Peter with MJ like this, well….Tony knew how he would respond, and how Peter reacted was with more dignity than he was physically capable of. 

He went to his shared bedroom with Peter and went into their bathroom. He got into the shower, peeling off the rest of his clothes before doing so, needing to wash both the wine and his sadness off of his body. If this was the end between him and Peter, then fine. He’d make sure that Peter found a place to work at that could utilize both his talent and his charm to be a direct competitor to Stark Industries. He never meant to hurt him by spending time with his ex. It was a misunderstanding. 

But aren’t all break ups caused by a misunderstanding? At least, to one person they might be. To the other, it might be as plain as day why the relationship was coming to an end. Tonight, it seemed that Tony was aware of both sides, and had to accept it. 

Sleep was impossible. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling like utter death as the person that should be next to him was no longer there. He was tempted to ask Friday where he was, but decided that that might not be the wisest idea. For all he knew, Peter was getting revenge on him by sleeping with someone from his past. Wanting to even the score, even though there was no score to settle. 

The front door of the penthouse opened at close to three in the morning. Tony held his breath as he saw a shadow walk into the room. The air smelled like booze. Peter had gone drinking. He could smell the whisky on his breath from twenty feet away. He heard him sniffle, and then saw his shadow begin to take off his clothes. Tony kept his breath quiet, as he didn’t want Peter to know he was awake. But, it seemed his younger lover knew because as soon as he hit the bed, he crawled into Tony’s space and put his arms around him. 

Tony didn’t hesitate. He pulled Peter into a hug, letting him cry against his shoulder. “I didn’t cheat on you.” Tony whispered into his ear, as he heard Peter cry harder. “You’re the only person I want, Peter. No one else. Pepper is a distant memory. She’s a friend. Nothing more.” 

“Do you promise?” Peter’s voice cracked, as he pulled his head away from Tony’s shoulder and stared into his eyes. “I can’t do this again, Tony. I don’t like how this feels. I feel awful. I feel sick.” 

“That’s because you drank too much.” Tony tried to lighten the mood, his lip curled up in a half-smirk. “Did you get a fifth on sale?” 

“I went and hung out with Ned.” Peter returned his head to his shoulder, and exhaled a long sigh. “I need you to promise me what you’re saying is the truth.” 

He brought his hand up to Peter’s face, and wiped away a few tears from his cheek. “I promise, Peter. There is no one else. Only you.” 

“How do I know that?” 

“You have to trust me.” Tony knew that was a tall ask. “I trust you.” 

“I want to trust you, but I’m scared.” 

“Of what?” 

“You hurting me. Again.” A broken whisper came out of Peter’s mouth.

Lowering himself down to be face to face with Peter, he looked into his eyes and could see the tears still there. “I will probably hurt you, but not because it’s my intention. I’m human, Peter. I expect you to hurt me too, but what makes us stronger is when we talk about it. When we don’t run away from each other.” 

“I’m sorry.” Peter bit his lip. 

“Don’t be. You had every right to leave.” He brought his forehead to Peter’s, and took a deep breath. “You came home.” 

“I wanted to be with you. I needed to know that I was wrong.” 

“Be patient with me, Peter. You’re going to see things you may not want to see, but always know that you are the only person who has this.” He brought Peter’s hand to his chest. “No one else gets this. Only you. You’re the only person I’m in love with.” 

“Tony…” 

Peter kissed him first, Tony willingly letting him take control of the kiss with a deep groan. His arms slid around Peter’s naked body, pulling him to lay on top of him as their kiss continued to deepen. Peter’s tongue filled his mouth, making parts of his body sing for joy, while it healed the ache in both his head and his heart. He felt Peter roll his hips, pushing himself against his body, Tony welcoming the touch with another deep groan. 

“I love you.” He whispered into Peter’s ear, as his cock slid deep into his body, Peter’s soft moans now filling his ears. “I love you so much, Peter.” 

“I l-love you, Tony!” Peter cried out, his moans becoming louder. “Oh, God…” 

“Yes, sweetheart…” Tony knew that his lover was close. He reached between their bodies and began to pump his cock with his fist, his hips moving in an erratic pattern. 

“Tony!!” 

It was all he needed to hear. All he ever wanted to hear. Peter fell from his high as Tony brought him to an orgasm, the warmth of his hot seed flowing between his fingers as he pumped his cock through the bliss. Tony’s hips stuttered as a deep moan left his own mouth, thrusting deep inside for one final time as his own cock exploded, pouring his essence into Peter’s warm channel. 

After a quick clean up, Peter secured himself back in Tony’s arms. “I vote tomorrow be a do nothing day.” Peter yawned, as Tony’s fingers began to play with the curls on the back of Peter’s neck. 

“I think that’s an excellent plan.” Tony brushed his lips against Peter’s temple. “I’m sorry, Peter. Truly.” 

“I know, Tony. I’m sorry too.” Peter lifted his head, and kissed him on the lips. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

He waited for Peter to fall asleep before he allowed himself to drift off. He knew that this wouldn’t be the last time something like this happened, but he was for sure going to try to make sure it didn’t happen again. But he was only human, and sometimes made bad choices. Luckily, though, his lover had been the right choice. Peter Parker was his better half; always had been and always would be. That made Tony Stark the luckiest man on the planet. 

#starker #my writing #fanfic #starkerfestivals #summer bingo 2k23

[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

[starker-sorbet]

Tony planning on playing up his flirting with his personal assistant Pepper in order to inflame Peter's jealousy. And to then all he has to do to take advantage of that jealousy and Peter's naturally possessive nature is to make sure they have plenty of time alone with no interruptions. Also he needs to make sure he has enough concealer to cover up the resulting hickeys his lover would no doubt leave to mark his territory no matter how it annoyed Peter to have him cover them up.

After they wouldn't want anyone asking why Tony had gained some fresh hickeys after a night in with his son

@starkerfestivals Starkercest Winter Bingo fill: B5 - Jealousy

card below

#starker #SFStarkercest23 #jealousy #starkercest #father and son tony and peter #tony flirting with pepper #but he doesn't mean it #and pepper knows it too #moodboard #my moodboard #tw:incest #and that is bingo

[aes-pbp]

The @starkerfestivals Summer bingo prompt was car sex and I really needed a laugh 😂

TS as an Audi R8

PP as a Renault Sport Spider

#tw: pixars cars #starker #mine #my art #yes this is a joke #i have never drawn anthro cars before and i won’t be doing it again lmao #but it was a bit of fun #this is NOT SERIOUS #this is so unserious #please dont reblog and take this seriously XD #i just needed a laugh and didn’t feel like drawing a car sex scene in order to get bingo

[sinditia]

For the drabble thing 37 for Starker if you can make it fit?

thank you for the prompt!

37 - "Will you say something or just keep staring at me?"

StarkerFestivals Summer Bingo 2022 - Chair Sex

Summary: A training mishap at the Avengers compound between Iron Man and Spider-man has the spidey-suit ripped at a very... unfortunate and intimate part. Tony can't help but make use of the sudden accessibility he has to certain part of Peter's anatomy.

Based on the insanely talented @anonoite 's nsfw art found here (private acct)

Word count: 2.6k

--

“Can’t I just change?”

“Hang on, Peter, I’ll just take a second.”

Tony does not just take a second. It’s excruciating, prolonged minutes of Peter seated on a counter in Tony’s lab at the Avengers compound with the older man himself on a chair in front of him in between Peter’s spread knees, face uncomfortably close and attention laser-focused onto the younger man’s crotch area.

It’s so embarrassing. It didn’t even happen in an actual combat situation. He was in the middle of sparring with Iron Man out on the compound’s training field, having a grand old time, totally not being distracted by how insanely hot Iron Man looks flying around in the suit. Then one of his webs got seared off by a repulsor blast and Peter hits the ground hard, skidding on the gravel, taking off a good chunk of his brand-new spidey-suit in a very unfortunate part.

A massive tear, starting from just under his balls all the way up to where his ass crack begins on his lower back. Most of the hole is concealed from view with Peter sitting on the counter. But the hole reaches forward just enough that there is a bared sliver of skin high up on his inner thigh, the visibility – and current proximity – of which to a certain inventor-engineer Peter is very hyperaware.

Tony pokes and prods at the edges of the ripped fabric, examining the nature of the tear with scientific inquisition. “I get the concept of having multiple suits. My basement will tell you that. But I already made you the nanotech one. Upgrades are supposed to go up, kid. It’s in the name. What was the point of making this suit?”

Peter huffs. “It was an emergency situation. I was in Europe. I didn’t have the nanosuit handy and all I had to make a new suit was an airplane lab. Your airplane lab, based on materials you designed. So if anything, it’s kind of your fault that I’m-”

Tony looks up at him, eyebrow raised.

Peter’s gut warms at the older man’s expression. It takes all his willpower to stop his cock from twitching right under Tony’s chin. “Nope, yeah. My fault. It’s all my fault,” Peter says weakly, turning his gaze up to the ceiling to avoid combusting alive under that eye-contact. Fuck, why did he make his suit so skin-tight that any kind of… swelling would be immediately noticeable? And why did he decide to wear this suit instead of the nanosuit today? Fuck his life.

Tony sighs, putting his hands on Peter’s knees. The man must have inched even closer to Peter’s spread open legs because he can feel the rush of warm breath on the skin bared from the suit’s rip. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” he says, “I’m just concerned. Good thing this happened during training and we can fix it. If this had happened in a real battle…”

Peter shrugs. “I’d probably be fine. Super-healing, remember? I don’t need a suit to protect me.”

Tony chuckles. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that not-so-subtle jab at me.” Peter was about to quickly insist that’s not what he meant, but Tony continues, “but I was more talking about how I don’t want any supervillains seeing you like this, ass out all on display. Them or any of the other Avengers who’d happen to be there. Or anyone, really. I’d gouge all their eyes out.”

Peter’s heart thuds and he chances a glance down at Tony. The older man still seems to be closely inspecting the rips in his suit. And he said that last bit so casually, like the idea of someone else’s eyes on Peter’s… intimate parts was a violently punishable crime. Peter doesn’t know why it makes it feel so hot under the neckline of his suit, but he likes how possessive Tony sounds. 

Because there’s eyes on him right now. Dark eyes that seem to be focused on the tear in the suit, but could just as easily be fixated on the bare skin the tear is revealing.

“You’re seeing me like this,” Peter points out quietly.

Those dark-brown eyes flick up to meet his. “Only ‘cause you’re letting me.” Tony’s hands on Peter’s knees increase in pressure. “You could easily overpower me. Why don’t you?”

“I-” Peter feels himself yield readily, legs opening further under Tony’s touch. The man is right. Peter has held up the weight of a collapsed warehouse on his shoulders but he can’t resist the gentle pressure of Tony’s hands. Peter has jumped, swung, free-fallen at unimaginable heights but he’s never been as breathless as he is now, with Tony so close, looking up at him, unmistakeable desire in his eyes.

“Will you say something or just keep staring at me?” Tony smiles, thumbs rubbing circles on Peter’s knees. “What are you thinking?”

“I want you to see me like this. I want-” his breath hitches and Tony finally moves his fingers to touch his skin directly, “-want only you to see me like this.”

Tony’s smile widens. “Good boy.”

Peter gasps when he feels Tony’s mouth on him through the thin fabric of the spidey-suit, kissing softly, gently. That mouth Peter’s been obsessed with for so long, so full of snark and genius, now stokes his obsession even more as it makes its way up his legs, as clever and unstoppable as the man’s incredible brain, until-

“Unh, Mr. Stark…” Peter gasps, squirming on the counter as soft lips and prickly facial hair finally touch directly onto the bare skin revealed by the suit’s tear.

Tony tilts his face to look up at him, head turned just so that its resting on Peter’s thighs. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No! I… I just-” Peter’s heart stutters at the sight of Tony’s eyes from this angle, wide and framed with thick lashes. How can a man look so sexy and so endearing at the same time? Peter is fully, achingly hard now, unmistakeable at this proximity. “I want it. I want you. You can do whatever you want to me.”

If possible, Tony’s eyes darken even further. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs before descending right between Peter’s legs, mouthing, kissing, licking at where his balls meet his perineum.

Peter shudders with a gasp, the sudden onslaught of pleasure on his sensitive skin taking hold of his body. His cock twitches helplessly where it’s still flimsily covered by the ripped edge of his suit. As Tony slips his fingers under the torn fabric, tugging it upwards, his mouth follows the course. And when a warm tongue swirls a wet path up Peter’s shaft, the younger man comes with a surprised cry.

Tony pulls away as Peter sits there panting. They both glance at the wet spot growing on the spidey-suit.

“Whoops,” Peter chuckles weakly, embarrassed.

Tony grins. “And just when I thought you couldn’t ruin this suit any further.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Peter grumbles. He hops off the counter and climbs onto Tony’s lap, straddling him. Their lips meet in a hungry kiss. Peter can feel the older man’s hard-on beneath him and he instinctively rolls his hips, grinding against it, taking satisfaction in the way Tony groans at the stimulation.

Tony kneads Peter’s ass, his kiss growing hungrier. His hands grip the frayed edges of the suit’s tear over Peter’s backside and pulls, widening the rips with the sound of rending fabric.

“Oh fuck,” Peter moans, exceedingly aroused at the strength of Tony’s desire for him. It’s the most powerful he’s ever felt, knowing that he’s making someone like Tony Stark feel this way.

“Can’t wait anymore, baby,” Tony growls. “Come on, get that ass on me.”

Peter sits up on his knees, both hands on the older man’s broad shoulders. Face flushed warm, he watches Tony lift his hips just enough to yank the bottom half of his under-armour suit down his legs. The movement makes Tony’s triceps flex attractively under the skin-tight fabric of his shirt and Peter, with no small amount of arousal, admires just how powerfully built Tony is. Peter wants to see all of him. All that skin over that all that chest, the scars where the arc reactor used to sit, the trail of hair that leads down to-

Peter lets out an involuntary whimper at the sight of Tony’s cock, hard and ready for him. He reaches for it on instinct, giving it a few gentle strokes.

“Oh fuck, kid, you’re killing me here,” Tony groans. “Need to feel you.” He starts looking around, a little frantic.

“What is it?” Peter asks, placing nipping kisses on Tony’s jaw as he continues to jack him off slowly.

“Need lube. I have some in my bag but it’s-”

Peter spots Tony’s duffle bag at the far corner of the lab and activates the web-shooter on his free hand, pulling the bag towards them by the web’s strand until it skids to a stop at their feet.

“God, you’re amazing,” Tony laughs, kissing Peter once more.

They grind together as they make out, with Peter’s hand still moving on Tony’s cock. There’s a bit of rummaging, then thick, slicked up fingers find Peter’s ass, sliding in with delicious ease.

“Oh God, Mr. Stark,” Peter breathes heavily, feeling himself clench and unclench at the intrusion.

Tony hums, fingering him. “You have no idea what you calling me that does to me. Lots of people call me ‘Mr. Stark’, but when you do it…,” Tony crooks his fingers against a spot that makes Peter moan, “it drives me fucking crazy. Makes me think things I’m not supposed to. We’d be in an Avengers meeting and you’d call me that in front of everyone and all I’m thinking is how gorgeous you’d sound calling me that in bed.” Another finger finds its way into Peter’s hole, stretching him out even further.

“Mmm, Mr. Stark…”

“Yeah, like that. Exactly like that.”

Peter grips the back of Tony’s neck, staring straight into the man’s eyes. “Mr. Stark,” he says breathily, loving the way Tony’s pupils visibly dilate at that. “I want you to fuck me.”

An animalistic growl reverberates from deep in Tony’s chest and he slips his fingers out of Peter’s hole, batting the younger man’s hand off his cock so he can direct it right up against Peter’s sloppy wet rim.

Peter gasps his way through that first push, feeling stretched so open then full, so full. His eyes almost roll back with it, the way Tony turns him out so good.

“You alright?” Tony asks, sounding almost as breathless as Peter feels.

“Yeah,” Peter pants, closing his eyes, forehead pressed to Tony’s. He rolls his hips experimentally, seating himself more comfortably on that stretch.

“You take me so well,” Tony murmurs, hands caressing down the younger man’s back to massage the globes of his ass. “Always knew you would.

Overcome with desire, Peter starts bouncing desperately on Tony’s cock, moaning, wanting it closer, deeper, but the older man grips his waist and stills the movements.

“Slow down, baby, let me enjoy this snug little ass.”

Peter lets out a breathless whine. “Please, Mr. Stark, I can’t- let me-”

Tony makes soft shushing noises, spreading Peter’s ass cheeks, grinding himself deeper between them. “Take pity on an old man, baby. Ride me nice and slow.”

“You’re not old,” Peter scowls, but he tries to do as the man says, lifting himself up slowly, feeling that infuriating slick drag Tony’s girth leaves on his sensitive insides before sliding back down.

Riding Tony’s cock is definitely Peter’s number one favourite activity now. He quickly sinks into a nice rhythm, mind growing blissfully fuzzy as his body instinctively takes over like it knows what to do, like it’s always known how to take pleasure from riding Tony Stark’s cock.

Tony grips Peter’s hips and adjusts his angle slightly, so that his cock grinds right up against his prostate with every thrust.

“Feel that? That’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” Peter moans, rolling his hips just there, right there. One hand on Tony’s chest and the other gripping the back of his neck, Peter nuzzles into the older man’s cheek, wanting closeness, wanting to kiss though he’s too breathless to do so.

Tony makes low, grunting, pleased noises. “That’s it. You’re doing great, kid. Just like that.”

Peter can hear the smirk in Tony’s voice and he moves his hips faster, harder, as hungry for his mentor’s approval as he is for the white-hot pleasure he gets from his mentor’s cock buried deep inside him.

Both Tony’s hands are on Peter’s ass, guiding his movements, digging himself deeper each time he pulls Peter down on him. Peter can’t help the small moans and high-pitched whimpers leaving his body, but each sound seems to spur Tony on even more.

“Love the little noises you make with my cock inside you, baby. Like a needy little slut.” Tony grunts at the clench Peter gives him from being called that. “Hmm, You like being a slut, baby? You gotta know the way you look running around in this suit. This thing perks your ass up like you wouldn’t believe. Bet everyone who looks at you has the same dirty thoughts as I do. Bet they all want a piece of this sweet ass,” Tony squeezes his cheeks, slamming inside hard, “get all the way up in you the way I am right now.”

Peter shakes his head with a desperate whine, so horny at the thought that anyone else would find him desirable, but- “I only want you,” he pleads. “Want only you,  Mr. Stark. Only ever wanted you. Ever since I-“ he whimpers at a particularly hard thrust. “I had pictures of you. Had my first orgasm thinking of you.”

“Fuck, kid,” Tony throws his head back with a loud groan. “Ruined you long before I even met you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Peter pants, pulling Tony back so they can kiss as he rides him faster. “God, Mr. Stark, it’s so good. Want this all the time.”

“Maybe I should update the nanosuit’s program, huh?” Tony murmurs between kisses. “Make it retract a nice, accessible hole so I can take you whenever I want.”

“Yeah,” Peter moans, lost in lust, dizzy at the thought of being Tony Stark’s little fucktoy. “Yeah…” He cries out when Tony slips a hand between them to stroke Peter’s aching cock.

“God, you’re such a good boy for me,” Tony growls in his ear and Peter is gone.

“Ohh, Mr. Stark-,” No orgasm Peter’s had before ever felt as good as the one he’s having wrapped around Tony’s cock, the pressure in him intensifying every twitch and clench of his pleasure-wracked hole.

“Oh, fuck-” Tony grunts at the tightness around him, climax finding him quickly. The man looks so handsome when he comes, eyes dark and jaws clenched in pleasure. He grinds Peter on him roughly, spilling inside, shoving his load as deep as it can go.

The tension leaves Tony’s body with a rush of breath and the man slumps with his back against the chair, eyes closed, breathing heavily as he comes down.

“Shit, that was incredible,” Peter sighs, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. “When can we do that again?” he giggles, the endorphins rushing through his veins makes him feel high and giddy. He pokes Tony’s stomach to get his attention.

Through lidded eyes, Tony watches, transfixed, as Peter uses a finger to scoop up some of the cum seeping out past the older man’s softening cock still buried inside him, then sticks it in his mouth.

“Well?” Peter grins, “Will you say something or just keep staring at me?”

--

@starkerfestivals

#starker #marsha writes #nff #starkerfestivalsevents #SFSummerBingo22 #chair sex #mouth kisses to the mods for extending the bingo so i can squeeze this out #also to the amazing anon for their amazing inspiring art

[shivanessa]

#made a scetch in my new grey notebook #starker #slow dancing #starker summer bingo 2022 #shivanessadraws

[spider-mancan]

would anyone be interested in a little fantasy based bingo? there’s so much interesting lore in marvel canon, but I can’t help myself — i love a little magic.

it would be low stress, I’d generate the cards myself, and there would be no limits on concept or format as long as there are fantasy elements.

#starker #but also other ships #probably just a general marvel bingo #but is that something people would enjoy?

[eiilleen]

Less than two weeks to submit three more prompts for the bingo? Ok, but, how ‘bout another WIP because it’s ‘fuck or die’ and Peter is a bunny?

Excerpt:

He didn’t understand. He had taken his medicine as prescribed. One tablet three times a day like clock work, and Peter knew he hadn’t missed a dose. So why? 

Oh, no 

His heart stilled. He brought the container closer and read the fine print of the pharmacist's label. It read: MAY S PARKER. His mind was reeling, thinking back to that morning when he had left the apartment. There on the kitchen bench, he had absentmindedly grabbed the orange vial as he left, not thinking to check whose medication he had taken. It was with the sickening realisation that his medication was most likely in his bedroom where he had left it the night before.

“It’s my Aunt’s,” he whispered. “I’ve-- I’ve missed three doses.” 

“Shit.” Peter heard Tony curse. “You know what? This is fine. Easy fix. We just need to get you to a doctor or pharmacist—“

Peter shook his head.

“It’s not that simple. My dose is specifically tailored to my hormone balance, and no one other than my specialist can dispense the medicine without blood tests first. That’ll take a day at least and by then…” he swallowed thickly

It was amazing how fast the heats potency developed. He could already feel the sickly weakness coursing throughout his body. He felt prickling sweat form on his brow, on the back of his neck, under his arms. He felt the stirrings of need, a long-repressed ache, awaken in his belly. 

Peter had always thought the ‘fuck or die’ nature of his species was dramatised so they’d be good little bunnies who remembered to take their medicine and not be inconvenienced by the need to fuck like, well, like rabbits all day long. He didn’t think it was– he didn’t think he’d have to…

He lets the reality of his circumstance sink in. Here he was about to enter his first heat at 41,000 ft on Tony Stark’s private plane with no immediate remedy to his situation. Well, none that didn’t involve inviting Mr. Stark to fuck his brains out so he didn’t die and before he can access his medicine again.

#inspired by Anon's recent art #the brainrot is real #i really need to focus on my bingo prompts #starker #my trash

[thegreenmetblue]

StarkerFestival 2023 : Summer Bingo

Best Friend’s Dad

Everyday after school, Peter comes to Harley’s house. Is he doing it because Harley is his best friend ? 20% yes. Is he doing it because Harley’s dad has been Peter’s crush since he was 6 years old ? 80% yes.

But Peter noticed that this past year, Tony started to look at him a bit more, a bit differently.

As the little shit he is, Peter can’t miss this opportunity. What ? He’s been waiting way too long for this.

So he start dressing a little slutty, he starts lounging a bit their touches, he lets himself blush under Tony’s gaze a bit more. He even writes small unsigned notes but Tony will know.

Tony slowly becomes crazy, Peter senses than the man won’t resist long.

Peter’s little sadist game last three weeks. Until a saturday morning where Harley still was asleep, and where Peter is almost thrown on the kitchen counter.

“Took you long enough. Thought you’d never do it.”, Peter says, breathless, cheeks red.

“Oh you tested me long enough you little shit. Now it’s my turn to test you. C’mon, shirt off.”

for @starkerfestivals 💖

#starker #starker moodboard #leah tries moodboards #best friend’s dad #tony’s harley dad #harley’s peter bestfriend #sfsummerbingo23 #starker summer bingo

[truebluedreamer]

I thought we were friends

Rating: E (very mildly, there's just a short mention of cocks at the end, really) Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Fandom: Marvel Tags: Fluff, mutual pining, friends with benefits (the loosest definition) Summary: Peter has never really thought about it before: how other people see them.

He's thinking about it now, though.

*

Peter Parker Bingo 2023 B1 square fill: Friends With Benefits Finished Bingo below cut:

#pparkerbingo23 #tony stark x peter parker #starker #ironspider #tony stark #mcu #marvel #peter parker #prompt fill #peter parker bingo #peter parker x tony stark #tony x peter #tnpt #starker prompt

[starksvinyls]

Title: Playing With Girls Rating: Explicit Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Tags/Warnings: Trans Peter Parker, Female Terms for Peter's Genitals, Feminization, Breeding Bench, Restraints, Paddles, Spanking, Barebacking, Daddy Kink, Under-negotiated kink, (nothing too serious, there's some minor changes of plans during the scene but they check in), BDSM, Dom/sub Summary: Peter has a fantasy he wants to try, and Tony is always willing to give Peter what he wants. Notes: this fills square B4 ‘breeding bench’ on my @starkerfestivals Summer Bingo card! And gets me my first bingo for this round! Title is from the AC/DC song of the same name. AO3 Link

Peter looked gorgeous, splayed across the breeding bench, wrists and ankles secured in cuffs attached to the legs. The soft glow of their playroom’s track lighting illuminating the soft, pale, naked expanse of his his back.  

“How are the cuffs?” Tony asked. 

“Good. No pinching, not too tight.” Peter dutifully replied, knowing what Tony wanted to know. 

“Good boy.”  

Tony stood up and circled around the back of the bench, grinning when he could see a peak of Peter’s folds, already glistening. He picked up a small leather paddle, then “What’s your safeword?” 

“Yellow to pause, red to stop.” 

That was Tony’s cue to begin. He rubbed circles with the paddle over the globes of Peter’s ass, warming him up. Then, he pulled back and swatted across the center of the younger’s ass, not nearly as hard as he knew Peter could take; this was just a nice little appetizer, after all. The chains of the cuffs rattled as Peter wiggled around, and Tony swatted him again, quickly, in reprimand, making Peter still. Four more swats, two on each cheek, and then Tony set the paddle back down on the table set up next to them. Peter’s skin was warm as Tony rubbed over the skin, soothing any residual sting. 

“Such a good girl.” It felt wrong coming out of his mouth, but the way Peter moaned would be seared into Tony’s brain forever. 

There had been plans, ideas of what to do with Peter once he had him at his mercy, but the anticipation was too great. Tony needed to be buried balls deep in his boy’s pussy, and he knew Peter wouldn’t mind a little change in plans. His shorts were hastily pushed down, the fabric pooling around his ankles, and then kicked off out of the way. Tony brought his hand down to Peter’s pussy and ran one finger through his folds. 

“So wet already, baby, this pussy is practically begging for my cock, huh?” 

Peter moaned again, and nodded. “Please, Sir.” 

Tony grinned and pressed his finger into Peter’s hole, still so tight, and quickly added a second. It was a stretch for Peter, but Tony knew he liked it. Peter had spent fifteen minutes, once, describing how incredible the stretch felt while he was sitting on Tony’s cock. Growing impatient, and letting his dick do the thinking, Tony made quick work of stretching Peter out, filthy promises falling from his lips. 

“Gonna fill this pussy up, gonna fuck you so good. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna take everything I give you and thank me for it, aren’t you?” He demanded. 

“Yes!” Peter wailed. “Thank you, Sir, thank you. Oh, god, just your fingers feel so big inside of me.” 

Tony’s mouth started to run away from him, thoughts tumbling from him faster than he could process. “Just you wait, baby, Daddy’s cock is going to stretch out your little girl parts and ruin you for anyone else.” 

“Oh, fuck, Tony.” Peter panted.

He paused, leaning forward to see where Peter was peaking at him over his shoulder. “Too much?” They had never played around much with daddy kink, but apparently it went hand in hand with feminizing Peter and his pussy for Tony. 

A shake of his head. “No, god, just give me a sec.” 

Tony nodded, still paused with his fingers inside of Peter. When given the go ahead, Tony began to finger fuck Peter again, adding a third finger. 

“Oh, Daddy! It’s- it’s too much.” Peter whined. 

Tony’s other hand flew down to grab the base of his cock. Jesus, this was hot. He grunted and forced his fingers in again, his knuckles soaked with Peter’s juices. There was no way he could wait until Peter was comfortable with four fingers, and Tony knew Peter could take it. He decided to go for it. Pulling his fingers free, Tony grabbed his cock with his wet fingers and brought it up to Peter’s pussy, rubbing the head up and down the slit. 

“Daddy’s gonna put his dick inside your little girl hole and mold you to the shape of my cock, baby.”

Peter just moaned in response. 

Tony lined himself up and began to push in, working against the resistance of the tightness still clinging to Peter’s pussy. He groaned as Peter’s walls squeezed around his cock, pushing through the velvety heat. Fully seated, he waited a moment to let Peter breathe through it, and then pulled back and slammed back in. His rhythm was punishing, forcing little noises out of Peter with each thrust. 

“Fuck, you feel so good around Daddy’s cock, baby girl, I’m not going to be able to stay away from your little hole now.” 

Peter was making a constant stream of noise, unable to hold any of it in. “Daddy, it’s too big, it hurts.” 

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re making Daddy feel so good, princess, you’re being so good.” Tony gave a hard thrust. “Don’t you want to be good?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” Peter replied, sounding meek. 

God, his boyfriend was a fantastic actor. No matter what they roleplayed, Peter always managed to make it all seem so real, always pulled Tony into the scene with just a few artful looks and crafted words, and was able to improv and play off of Tony. Tony really felt like the dirty old man he was playing at.  

Tony had his reservations, when Peter first brought up his fantasy, how could he not? He had never once thought of Peter as anything other than a boy - a man, and he hadn’t been sure he would be able to degrade Peter the way he was asking for. After hours of discussion and reassurances on both sides, though, Tony could say this was the hottest thing they’ve done together. To know that Peter, his boy, trusted him that much, knew that Tony didn’t actually think those things, but was willing to indulge Peter, it ratcheted up the intensity of the actual fucking by about a thousand. 

His balls slapped against Peter’s cock as he fucked in and out of the boy’s stretched hole, his grip on Peter’s hips no doubt making little finger shaped bruises that would fade before they were even out of their after scene bath. 

“Daddy’s gonna come inside you, gonna fill up your womb, princess.” Tony moaned. 

Peter tried to push himself up, but was held down by the cuffs. “No! Daddy, don’t! You can’t come inside!” 

Tony grunted and fucked into Peter’s pussy just a bit harder. “Daddy can do whatever he wants, baby, and Daddy doesn’t pull out. So you’re going to take it all like a big girl, understood?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” Peter choked out. 

He was close, he hadn’t been this close this fast in a long time. It took him by surprise, but Tony really shouldn’t be surprised by anything else during this scene; nothing had gone as he expected in the best ways. His balls tightened, making Tony thrust that much harder into Peter. If the bench wasn’t bolted down, it would be scraping across the floor with Tony’s movements, he was sure. 

Peter was making the most delicious sounds and Tony groaned as he started coming. Rope after rope of come pulsed into Peter’s womb, just as promised. When Tony pulled out, a gush of come followed, dripping down to the floor. Peter was limp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, draped over the bench. 

“You wanna come, baby?” Tony murmured, gently rubbing Peter’s lower back. 

Sometimes Peter was too sensitive just from the fucking, especially if Tony took him from behind. Having Tony’s balls slap against his cock could be quite stimulating, according to Peter, and an orgasm would send him into an overload. Other times, he was damn near insatiable and Tony had to break out the vibrator. 

“Y-yeah,” The younger man panted. “Just your fingers.” 

Tony wasted no time in bringing his hand back down to Peter’s pussy, running two fingers through the mess of Peter’s juices and Tony’s semen, down to his cock. He used the pads of his fingers to gently massage the length, knowing just how Peter liked to be touched. A tremor ran through Peter’s body and he moaned as he came quickly, hips trying their hardest to buck despite the restraints. 

Tony rubbed soothing circles on Peter’s back as he calmed down, and then knelt down to undo the restraints. Peter brought his arms up and crossed them on the main body of the bench, giving himself a pillow. His head was turned to the side, watching Tony as he began doing a  quick, rudimentary clean up - the rest could wait til later. 

“Ready for a bath?” The older man asked, squatting down to be at eye level with Peter. 

Peter smiled. “Can we have the cactus lily salts?” Those were his favorite scented bath salts. 

“Absolutely,” Tony stood, wincing as his knees popped, and held out his hand to help Peter up. “Anything for you, baby.” 

#sfsummerbingo23 #starker #starker fic #starksvinyls fic #booya!! first bingo for this round babeeyyy