Summary: Peter wants to learn how to do blowjobs just like his boyfriend does and makes a suggestion Tony can’t refuse.
Warnings: Dom/Sub, Major Corruption Kink (Tony), Humiliation, Praise Kink, 69, NFF
I whipped this out while suffering from major exhaustion, so I’m sorry if there are any errors in here 🙈🙈🙈🙈
notes: decided to post day 9 because i’m not sure i’ll finish day 12, and i’d like to produce some content. this content is arguably filthy, and the breeding isn’t abo related in the slightest. peter is a sick little don, and he makes tony his dogs’ plaything. it gets into the filth straight away, so be aware of the warnings! heed them.
warning(s): bestiality, humiliation, voyeurism, rape/noncon, gunplay (a little bit), bottom!tony (because i guess that needs to be a warning? lol)
How many knots had he taken?
His hole was sore and aching. He felt it, every time the one behind him humped forward, the gush of cum between his thighs. There were so many of them. He’d lost count after the seventh.
Peter said that this was his punishment for lying to him. He said that if Tony’s opinion of Peter was that he was a lowly bitch, then the little Don would show him the meaning of the word. Someone had hit him from behind, knocked him out. Tony remembered that because he had woken up in the middle of the first knot to feel blood dripping down the side of his head. The room had spun. Still, he was able to make out Peter’s form, lounging in an oversized leather chair.
They were upstairs for this event, not down. It meant that Peter’s capos were watching him, leering behind him somewhere as the dog fucked his ass. He was dripping cum all over Peter’s nice, thirty thousand-dollar rug that the boy had gone on about one day. He’d killed a man who he promised he’d spare because he’d had the audacity to drip blood from his broken nose onto this rug. Tony wasn’t sure what the next punishment would be. Would they kill him?
notes: i want everyone to know that i do have day 9 ready to go, but i forgot to post it because i’m dumb. so! here’s the prompt for day 11, and i had great ideas for the other days that hopefully i actually, you know, finish. yikes. this is an alpha turning fic! that’s the only sort of “modification” — there’s no mutilation or anything like that, i promise. daddy tony is just sick of his son’s bad attitude.
warning(s): abo dynamics, dirty talk, humiliation, incest, rape/noncon, somnophilia, non-consensual drug use
The sound of music blaring overhead made Tony frown. He raised his eyes towards the ceiling, bringing a mug of coffee to his lips. It was Halloween night, and there was a big bowl of candy sitting by the door. He’d asked Peter to pass it out with him and had received a wave of the boy’s hand and a, “Whatever, Dad,” in response.
Peter had never been like this before his presentation as an alpha.
Before, he and Tony were almost joined at the hip. He was a polite boy. Always asked for permission before going out, and he got excited about stupid, arbitrary things like passing out candy and watching old horror movies with his Dad on Halloween. He’d never been much of a partier, but all that was changing this year. As soon as he’d presented as an alpha over the summer, Peter had copped an attitude with Tony every chance he got. Tony’s therapist told him that maybe Peter was testing boundaries, and it was healthy.
Tony didn’t give a damn if it was healthy. It pissed him off.
we did it
He gasped, the air around him choking the soul that has crumpled beneath him
we did it
he whispered to the love of his heart that thumped weakly against his rib cage
the once glimmering eyes dulled in silence
how, he wonders
can i live after seeing the life drain from the golden sea of which i found home?
flashes of mechanical beeping entered his mind
the whisper of maybe and almost drowning his sorrow
the scent of oil and faint whiskey engulfing him in a hug
his love would say,
Parker, you’ve been staring at me for far too long
Parker, your eyes are gleaming with mischief
Parker, hold my hand
Peter, dance with me
Baby, i love you
these moments were distant
far away in the memory of aching bones
he could not remember how it felt to be gifted pleasure
all he knew,
in this moment,
was the unbearable pain of loss
We did it
notes: ow, this hurt to write. there isn’t enough omega!tony in this fandom ( in my humble opinion ) so i’m taking this time as an opportunity to add to it. sorry this one is so painful, and that peter’s a dick.
warning(s): stillbirth, asshole!peter, bottom!tony stark, omega!tony stark, alpha!peter parker, abo dynamics
There were many days in his life where Tony had cursed his secondary gender and his age, though perhaps not in that order. He was used to it, had seen it all: alphas trying to talk over him in meetings, alphas cornering him, some of them turning their noses up when they realized how old he was. Unmated, pushing fifty, and no use to them when it came to having a family.
In Tony’s experience, most alphas didn’t want a family anyway. They wanted a bitch to stick their knot into, so he preferred to spend his time with his machines, hidden away from the world. He didn’t have to soak in the alpha drivel that way.
Peter changed it. Peter was a ray of sunshine, the least stereotypical alpha in every possible way.
At least, that was what Tony had imagined, until he’d gotten pregnant.
So what? It was an accident. The kid had lost track of his rut cycle and they found themselves tangled in the lab, Peter’s knot stuffed into Tony’s soaked hole, and that was how they spent the next several days. Coaxing Peter out of the lab and upstairs to the bedroom, into something that at least resembled a nest and wouldn’t be such a damn pain on the older man’s back, had been a challenge, but Peter went.
Even during his rut, Peter was good to Tony. He licked at the marks he made, he apologized for how sore the omega was after. He touched Tony’s hole and cooed over it when it was puffy and aching (though it didn’t stop Peter from knotting him, that was damn sure). Tony had to admit that it was nice. He liked it. He’d had plenty of alphas in the past who made him feel like the next toy to toss aside, but in the weeks after his rut, Peter hadn’t done that.
He’d been there, ready to hand Tony a tool in the lab. He’d been there with a warm mug of coffee and a small smile, begging him not to stay up too late.
Somehow, the kid had wormed his way into Tony’s bed, too. He didn’t sleep in his own anymore. Tony hadn’t known what to do when he found a pair of Peter’s boxers tucked into his drawer.
All that aside, Tony thought that maybe this time it would work. He could let himself relax. Maybe he’d let Peter mate him, if he still wanted to after the alpha’s fiftieth birthday. Tony didn’t know why, but that was the important benchmark. He kept putting it off, kept telling Peter that the kid would change his mind when he realized how he was pining after some old, dried up omega.
Peter had stubbornly insisted that wouldn’t be the case.
Whether it would or wouldn’t be, Tony didn’t think they’d get to find out anymore. He was a month shy of his fiftieth, and he was sitting upright in his bed, staring down at his belly. It was swollen, still.
It was his fault that it had happened. He’d been reading articles over and over since he’d gotten back from the hospital. Not enough rest, his age causing poor vasculature. All Peter needed to do was provide the sperm, and it was his job to do the rest of it. Tony kept going over it in his head. Had his late nights in the lab killed their baby? Prevented her from growing as big as she was supposed to?
When he’d had her and she hadn’t cried out, his heart had stopped. Icy dread sank in as Peter’s face went from relieved to panicked. The alpha had lost his mind, trying to push his way through the doctors, and they’d had to escort him out of the room.
Tony hadn’t seen him since, and he wasn’t sure what to do about that.
He figured Peter would be the type of person to stick by his side, to coddle him a little too much. Enough so that Tony would find it sickening, and one day he’d snap and tell the young alpha to fuck off.
That was what he’d expected. He’d prepared himself for the fight already, in his hospital bed, while they’d let him recover and then shipped him off home the next day with a tiny pamphlet about services for babies.
It hadn’t happened.
He wasn’t sure if Peter’s absence was a relief or if it hurt him more. Being alone in his grief felt like the punishment he deserved.
After all, he was the one who had killed their baby.
notes: first kinktober prompt! tony thought he’d already given peter enough lessons about how he was supposed to behave. what’s a man to do when his perfect boy disobeys and gets an attitude about it? also nobody is proofing these ( including me ) so sorry if things don’t make sense or there are typos. peter might not be bratty enough but it’s fine i did my best.
warning(s): daddy kink, spanking
Somewhere near his feet, his boy was whimpering. Staring up at him with wide, imploring eyes. Peter had such beautiful eyes. A deep brown that reminded him of a nice, dark oak, which so happened to be what his dining room table was made out of.
Unfortunately, the boy’s behavior today earned him a seat beneath the table instead of at it. Peter typically perched himself in the seat next to Tony and ate with dainty bites and a raised chin. He’d settled into his newfound life of lavish riches well, thanks to the older man. He’d found the boy on the streets, dirty with less than a dollar to his name. He’d clung to Tony’s jacket asking after food, and the man had smirked at him.
“I think I’ve got something better I could give you.”
He made Peter blow him in the backseat of his Rolls Royce. The partition was up, as it often was when these things occurred, but Tony was certain that Happy could still hear the loud suckling sounds the boy had made. He was like an overeager dog that first time, slobbering everywhere, not quite sure what to do without Tony’s hand to guide him.
Peter had gotten better, naturally. Tony had taught him. He’d introduced the boy to a plethora of new toys: gags and whips, swings and dildos the likes of which he’d never seen. Peter’s favorite toy had been a pink plug with a diamond stud on the end of it for quite some time. He’d cried when he grew out of it and no longer found the girth comfortable inside of him. Most of the time, he spent his days yearning after the older man’s cock, as he’d been trained to.
Perhaps trained wasn’t the correct term for it, Tony mused to himself. He took a swig of his scotch, already on his second pour though he’d yet to finish so much as a third of his roast duck. He heard Peter whimpering from where he sat, and felt the telltale rut of the boy’s hips against his leg.
Tony scowled. “No.” He hissed the word like he was talking to a disobedient dog.
But tonight, that was what Peter was. He had deliberately disobeyed Tony when he’d told him that he’d be home late, and under no circumstances was he allowed to touch himself. Peter had done it anyway, thinking he could cum beneath the pillowcase and hide it, or have the maids clean it before Tony got home. The boy had yet to realize that Tony had a nanny cam on him at all times, and that he could see when Peter was up to no good.
He played nice when he walked in the door, petting Peter’s hair and cooing at him, telling him he needed to shower before dinner. There were specks of blood on the sleeves of his shirt, and he wasn’t the sort of man to go to dinner soiled. But then, as Peter chirped at him so sweetly and said he’d wait for him to finish, Tony had yanked the boy by his hair and shoved his nose into the pillow that he’d humped to climax, snarling at him for doing so, asking him if he thought he could get away with it.
Instead of remorse, which was what he expected from his boy by now (Peter knew better, Tony had taught him better), Peter had huffed, “You made me wait all day, Daddy! It’s been hours.”
The whiney tone hadn’t earned him any favors with the older man. Tony had slapped his ass for it and promptly put that little cock of his in a cute cage. This, like his favorite plug had been, was baby pink and accentuated with a little, condescending bow at the front. It saved him from the unsightly image of Peter’s cock leaking all down his thighs. To double the punishment, he’d forced the boy to stay naked through the duration of dinner.
Naturally, rutting wasn’t allowed. He didn’t want precum smeared on his slacks.
“Daddy,” Peter said, whining as he settled his chin atop Tony’s leg. He felt the boy shuffling against him, his hips pressing tentatively into the expensive fabric of Tony’s slacks. Again. The older man’s scowl deepened. “You’ve barely had any food,” Peter said, his lips curving into a pout. “You’re not even hungry. You’re being mean!”
“And you’ve lost sight of your manners tonight.”
Peter looked startled when Tony pushed back from his seat to give himself more room. He grabbed the boy by his curls, which the older man so often cherished, and hauled him up so he was bent over the table, his hips pressing right into the edge of it. One of the maids, who had been bringing in another scotch for Tony, froze at the sight and then averted her eyes as she backed out of the room.
They knew better than to interrupt when he had a lesson to teach his boy.
“I’m sorry!” Peter was quick to say, realizing that his Daddy wasn’t in a generous mood tonight. It should’ve dawned on him hours ago, but the truth was that Tony spoiled him rotten (the man knew it, too) and he hadn’t had a punishment in weeks.
Not since the incident where Tony had caught him fucking himself out by the pool, where anyone could’ve seen. Oh, he’d been furious about that.
“I don’t think you are sorry,” Tony growled. “I think you’re getting a little too comfortable. All these fancy things that you have now, I could take them away in a heartbeat. I could send you right back out on the streets where I found you.”
“Y-yes,” Peter said.
“Yes, sir!” His voice hitched higher, into a faint squeak. Peter felt a hand, big and calloused, caressing his ass.
“I’ll be good, Daddy. I just wanted to cum,” he said quickly, hoping to stave off a worse punishment before it could start. “Just so horny for you, Daddy. Wanted to — wanted to ride you tonight real good. Yeah. Give you a blowjob, too.”
Tony chuckled, squeezing the meat of Peter’s ass, watching the skin redden with the imprint of his fingers. “That right?” he asked, playing into the boy’s desperate little game.
“Yes, sir! Wanted to let you cum on my face like you like. Remember? Or on my — my tits.”
Tony didn’t have to look at Peter to know he was blushing. He’d never been comfortable calling them that, and he’d always whine and turn away whenever Tony did it. The man smirked. His little brat was being so obvious. “You know what I think?”
“What do you think, Daddy?” Peter whispered.
“I think that you’re a conniving little shit who needs to be taught a lesson.”
Peter let out a squeal when that rough hand came down across his ass. The slap was so hard that it left him reeling, his poor, caged cock dribbling out precum all between his thighs.
He wet his lips, “O-one, Daddy.”
Pairing: Peter Parker x Tony Stark
Word count: 500
Warnings: age regression, daddy kink, sexting
Peter’s eyes widened for a second before he got his calm posture back.
“Baby, I don’t have your pacifier in me,” he said, “Why don’t we go back to the hotel, get you changed in something comfortable?”
“Okay” Tony whispered, eyes teary.
He clung to Peter’s hand as they walked back to the hotel, to his displeasure taking over than an hour.
When they finally got back, Tony sat right on the couch, legs crossed and hands resting in his lap.
“Daddy, can I put on my onesie, please?” he looked at Peter with pleading eyes.
“Of course Tones. Do you want your stuffy as well?”
Peter went to the bedroom, Tony following right behind. The little started pulling on his clothes, wanting to take them off.
“You need any help there, baby?” Peter looked at him with a small smile and loving eyes. The frantic nodding made him walk closer to Tony, helping him undress.
“Thank you” the little whispered and sat on the edge of the bed. He crawled over to the other side of it and took the stuffed red and yellow dragon in his hands, hugging it close to his chest.
Peter took the onesie out of Tony’s suitcase and spread it on the bed. He unbuttoned the front. Tony wiggled in it himself, Peter just buttoning it back up. The little took the pacifier connected to his onesie in his mouth and suckled on it softly. He opened his arms, dragon still held tight in one hand, showing his caregiver he wants cuddles. And what caregiver is Peter if he doesn’t obey? He lied down, back pressed against the headboard. Tony crawled in his arms and curled against his chest. Peter started brushing his fingers through Tony’s hair, knowing it brings him comfort like nothing else, and kissed his forehead.
The day after, Tony had to go out in the city alone. Peter decided to stay in the hotel and just relax. He laid in bed until early noon. With one of Tony’s big shirts on, he walked around the apartment dancing to some music until he got a text. Peter looked at his phone and his face turned red, the blush spreading over his ears and down his chest.
‘I really wanna fuck you into the mattress rn’ the text read.
'Well daddy, if you were here I would’ve let you’ Peter sent back.
'God Peter. Send some nudes?’
'Gimme a minute’
A few minutes later Peter sent a text with a photo attached to it.
'I hope you like it daddy’ *insert photo here*
'Hell yeah I like it. Can you give me more?’
'Mm, okay’ *insert photos here*
'You make me so hard it’s unbelievable’
'Can’t wait for you to come back daddy, so I can help you’
'It’s good that I’m on my way then’
'I’ll be on the bed’
idk. Last weekend was hard, I process through writing. Here we are 😅😅
Summary: Tony is hospitalised, Peter has to sit in the waiting room.
Word Count: ~1000
Other Inspiration: Below My Feet by Mumford and Sons | What If This Is All The Love You Ever Get? by Snow Patrol
Warnings: Major grief and angst, mention of hospitals/critical medical condition, hurt with a tiny bit of comfort, ambiguous ending
Peter’s heart had been broken before.
Whether it was the disappointing shudder from what-could-have-been with Liz, or the reeling betrayal from Quentin Beck, or even the mind-numbing world-shattering grief from the passing of his parents and Uncle Ben, he was always left with the same feeling afterward.
The feeling that there was a blunt cleaver in the middle of his chest. A knife that just sat there, festering and heavy. Occasionally someone would grab it, promising to pull it out, only to push it around more with an unpracticed hand.
This fic is for @twokinkybeans 600 follower line prompt challenge!
My prompt was: “If you sass me one more time, I’m just gonna have to find something else to occupy your mouth with.”
Tony had been busy recently. SI business had been taking up all of Tony’s attention all this week. On Monday Tony had to clean up after a PR fiasco when a tabloid published blatant lies over the weekend. There was no doubt Tony would win the lawsuit, it was a clear case of libel and Tony has world class lawyers to boot. But the situation still monopolized all of the man’s time for the beginning of the week.
Directly after that, Tony had nearly back to back meetings with business partners, both current and prospective. Tony barely got meals in between all the phone calls, conferences, meetings, and press releases. He even had a meeting at three in the morning because some investors from China wouldn’t budge on their time schedule.
All of this left Peter feeling rather neglected. Of course, he knew Tony couldn’t help it, it wasn’t his fault and he wasn’t ignoring Peter on purpose. Tony was an important man with important business to attend to. But that didn’t change the fact that Peter had hardly gotten to spend any quality time with his boyfriend for days and no sex for nearly a week.
Tony had promised Peter that Saturday would be just the two of them. No calls, no meetings, all of his attention would be for Peter. Which is why when Saturday morning rolled around and Tony’s business phone rang, interrupting their sleepy make out session before it even really began, Peter was extremely irritable.
So Peter Parker. Spoiled princess. Always got his nose buried in a phone or a computer too interested in his OnlyFans and his many boy toys. Aunt May has enough of him being a brat and is like: “You know what we’re sending you to your Uncle for the summer.” And his uncle is Tony Stark. A ranch hand. Farm owner. Labor guy. So Peters complaining and whining cause “There’s no WiFi our there! What am I gonna do!” And drops Peter in the farm. He’s obviously not prepared cause he has like three luggage’s of just clothes and electronics and what he wasn’t expecting is his uncle being a fucking STUD.
I honestly could’ve taken this and written a whole multi-chaptered work, but I tried super hard to condense it. I hope that you like this, and thank you so much for the interesting prompt!
TW: Non-descriptive pretend injury.
He’d never quite felt at home with the high society. He’d always felt too home grown, too lanky or too fast-spoken. An Eggsy Unwin surrounded by the likes of Harry Hart and worse. He tugged at his tie again and stepped out of the way of a woman breezing past, her eyes laser-focused on where her husband was flirting with another socialite.
Parker Exploratory was on its fourth year of being a million dollar company, and Peter was on his fourth year of feeling like a tiny little worm on a big fucking hook, writhing in the crashing tide and desperately trying to avoid being eaten. He’d dodged a lot of competition, betrayal and trial and error to get where he was, and though he was proud of his achievements, sometimes he wished he was still a nerdy little kid sat in his dorm room, accidentally dissolving his bedsheets with tensile acid.
He’d been here long enough, right? Of course he had. He set his champagne flute down, fixed his gaze on the exit and was four steps towards it when a hand slipped into his own and he was swept off course, twirled around until he found himself nose to nose with a smirk wearing dark, red shades. “Running away at midnight, Cinderella?”
Tony Stark, looking absolutely devastating in an Armani three-piece, rich black with a gold waistcoat that would look tacky on anyone else. Peter huffed out a breath but allowed the older man to glide them across the dancefloor, letting go of Tony’s hand to reach out and slide those shades up his face and into his hair. Rich, dark eyes blinked across at him, one of which was outlined in smudged purple.
“Nice bruise” he remarked. He knew what it was from, of course. The maniac fool who’d last tried to take over New York had also put a tender bruise on Peter’s jaw a few days prior. And, like Tony was reading his mind, his gaze dropped down to where Peter had carefully layered concealer over the reddened mark. It was fading fast with his healing ability, but not fast enough to have been gone by the time the Gala came around.
Tony smelt like expensive aftershave and whiskey, and this close Peter could count the barest hint of freckles that dusted his nose. Tony Stark had always been handsome, and the object of Peter’s heart since he’d first seen the man’s face on a Forbes magazine aged ten. Tony’s smile grew, baring one little canine as he man leaned in closer, enough that on their next step the man’s artful stubble scraped along his jaw.
“Likewise, darling. A word of advice; if you’re going to use makeup to cover a bruise, you should apply it to the rest of your face, too. It rather stands out otherwise, to those who know what to look for”.
Character A : Would you still love me if I were a worm?
B: We… we’re in the middle of an assignment!!!
A : Answer the question goddamnit!!
just watched zodiac and now all i can think about is the bar scene but starker. like:
peter is newly 21 and tony wants to take him to a bar to celebrate, even lets him choose. tony had expected him to pick some fancy, expensive club where they’d get bottle service and peter would dance, out on the floor by himself, while tony sat at their table, getting a headache from the loud music while he pretended not to stare.
but no, peter surprised him by picking an absolute dive bar in chinatown, a place with dim lights and sticky floors where they could sit right at the bar and nobody would even take a second glance at the fact that tony stark was sitting right there, in the flesh.
so tony starts a tab, orders their best single malt whiskey, and watches as peter orders something called an “aqua velva”, happily pulling out his I.D. as he does.
they’re catching up, talking easily about peter’s senior year and tony’s recent projects when their drinks are set down in front of them. peter’s is bright blue in a hurricane glass, complete with pineapple and cherries, a pink umbrella, and a straw.
tony gets about two more sentences out before he finally succumbs and says, “ok, are we going to talk about that?”
peter, who was mid-sip, takes the straw out of his mouth to blink up at tony. (and if tony takes a mental snapshot of that image to save for later, nobody has to know).
“you wouldn’t be judging me if you tasted it, mr. stark.” he replies, holding the drink out for him to take. tony raises his eyebrows, staring at peter incredulously, but those big, brown eyes show no signs of embarrassment. instead he sees a challenge in them, teasing him, bold and daring in a way tony likes a little too much. so, he takes the glass.
next thing he knows, two hours have passed. they’ve moved from the bar to a little round booth in the back, and the table is covered with at least ten empty glasses of what were those ridiculous blue drinks that taste too good to be true. each round of drinks had them both unconsciously moving towards each other until they got to where they are now: pressed against each other’s sides in the middle of the booth, peter leaning his head on tony’s shoulder with tony’s arm wrapped around his waist. they’re both just the right shade of drunk, happy and smiling and open, telling stupid stories just to try to make the other laugh.
when peter giggles at something tony says and takes a sip of his aqua velva only to hear the slurping sounds of an empty drink, tony realizes they need a new round. he shifts, moving to get up, but stills when peter looks up at him. he’s got his puppy dog eyes aimed at tony, as if he’s upset at the mere thought of tony moving from their current position. that look, coupled with the flush of his cheeks from the alcohol and the straw that’s still wrapped between his lips, sends a bright flare of want throughout tony’s entire body. he realizes he has to get up immediately, or else he might give into temptation and do something wholly inappropriate
he doesn’t realize, though, how drunk he really is. in his hurry to get away, he accidentally says, “pete, as much as i like you practically in my lap like this, you need to get up for a second so i can get us more drinks.”
tony watches his reaction in what feels like slow motion. his puppy dog eyes widen, the pink flush darkens to a bright red, and his jaw drops just enough to have the straw slipping from his now-parted lips. tony is frozen, staring, waiting for peter to do something, say something. he plays through a dozen scenarios of what could happen next in his mind, but none are as good as what actually happens.
peter sets down his drink, stands up awkwardly in the small space between the booth and the table, and then sits himself down square on tony’s lap. tony instictively moves to wrap his arms around his waist, and peter hums appreciateively at the gesture. he meets tony’s eyes again, and that daring look from before is back as he says, “if you wanted me in your lap, mr. stark, all you had to do was ask.”
“We’re going to be late."
"And?” Tony mutters, a little breathless already.
“We’re going to be late to our own halloween party… ” Peter barely manages to say, whimpering when Tony drags his mouth down to press a flutter of kisses along the line of his jaw.
Words: 452, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
- Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe
- Rating: Explicit
- Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
- Categories: M/M
- Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark
- Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
- Additional Tags: Halloween Costumes, Fanart, Armor Kink
Tony doesn’t sound at all repentant.
Words: 1355, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
- Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
- Rating: General Audiences
- Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
- Categories: M/M
- Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark
- Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
- Additional Tags: Autumn, Halloween, Storms, Sharing a Bed, Coffee, Caretaking, Touching, Slice of Life, Mutual Pining, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies