Starker Fic - Tumblr Posts
From that convo about Dom!Peter being younger than Tony...
I wasn’t kidding @ironspiidey, it’s over here. But if anyone wants a quick fix (out of context) on the scene in question, here’s a bit:
“You would never,” Peter assures him, “/You/ would never. Let me treat you, show you what you’ve been missing. And, if you don’t want to risk it in the end, it’s our secret and it stays that way.”
Tony's eyes have an unfamiliar ache in them, slowly breaking in front of Peter, redness, tears. He can’t say anything, he just nods.
“Oh, baby,” Peter leans up, hands moving over Tony’s stomach and chest as he crowds in close enough to kiss Tony. Their lips meet and it’s so much like the last time. Something Tony never loses is his /fire/, that same fire for doing the right thing is always twisted into each and every kiss they’ve shared. Even the small ones.
Peter pushes his hands under Tony’s shirt, caressing the scars he finds, putting his palm over the one at the center of Tony’s chest as he slides his tongue in and takes over.
The older man lets out a broken whimper and Peter takes a quick opportunity to pull off his shirt.
He kisses Tony’s chest right there in the center, and then scoops him into his lap, standing up as their lips slide together once more.
Tony panics, surprised and confused as he breaks off the kiss, but only for a second before wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck, hands in his hair as his legs hook around. Peter can feel the squeeze of muscle from his thighs, the press of his half-hard cock.
Peter walks to the exit door of the lab, pushing Tony against the wall and working to pull off his own shirt before moving them along.
They make it to Tony’s bed before they’re fully naked, but not for lack of effort. Peter steps up to the edge of the bed and sets Tony down, standing back upright to push down the last of his pants, stepping out with his left leg first and then his right.
Tony stares up at him, those wide eyes taking in all of him before he mutters, “Not a single scar…”
“Mhm,” Peter climbs over him, taking off Tony’s pants as well, “You wouldn’t /believe/ how difficult it makes things. But in your favorite ways.”
“What do you mean?” Tony presses.
“Well,” Peter considers telling him, then decides against it, “Your Peter will have to tell you all about it. I think it’s a learning experience, and maybe motivation to do the right thing and give the poor kid a break.”
“You realize you’re calling yourself a kid, right?”
Peter smiles wickedly, “Oh, yes, Mr. Stark,” he says as he sits up on his knees, not missing the dark look that comes over Tony - the one that makes his cock finally go from semi-erect to fully erect in a split second.
“I feel like I’m going to regret this.”
“You’ll beg me for more,” Peter says confidently, running hands down before grabbing his cock and pumping it a few times, “But you don’t get to suck my cock. I’ll keep that first time luxury for your Peter.”
“Not gonna happen,” Tony insists, mouth dropping open when Peter rolls his palm.
He turns to the bedside, reaching under for the bottom drawer where they normally hide the toys and various other things. He’s slightly disappointed that the only thing he finds is the lube he was aiming for. Shame, this Tony doesn’t even give himself that little bit of pleasure in the privacy of his own bedroom.
“You don’t…” he twists his lips, stopping himself from pointing it out, choosing instead to slap Tony’s ass, “Turn over.”
Tony doesn’t object or argue, but dutifully turns over as Peter warms the lube between his fingers.
“What’s the most you’ve done?”
Tony glances back at him, “I don’t really talk about-” he stops when their eyes meet, “Fingers, barely, I’m-”
Peter wraps his hand around, using the lube he has in his palm already to jerk Tony as he presses their bodies together, “Not even a woman-?”
“No.”
“Not even-”
“/Nothing/,” Tony responds, “I don’t do that, I haven’t done anything. Nothing like that. Nothing gay-”
Peter bites his shoulder, /hard/, enough to probably break skin and Tony’s cock jumps in his hand, words choking off in his throat.
He moves down, taking his hand away so that he can spread Tony’s cheeks, running his tongue from his perineum of the ripple of virgin muscle above. He takes his time working Tony into a comfortable, relaxed state before finally adding not one, but two fingers.
Tony moans, spine arching as Peter scissors and spreads and coaxes him to the point where he can take a third. His other hand wraps back around, pumping the drizzling cum from his cock and pulling him into each thrust of his fingers.
It isn’t until he curls and starts rubbing at his prostate that Tony really loses it.
“Oh…” Peter watches Tony’s mouth drop open again, his hands tight and white on the sheets, body rocking back on Peter’s hand, “Please.”
“Mm, not yet,” Peter teases, letting go of his cock, “Touch yourself for me, baby.”
Tony does, he does so good.
Peter bites the skin just above the crack of his ass, then shifts over him, the first three fingers of his right hand buried knuckle deep and rubbing his prostate with every thrust, his left reaching up to grab a handful of silver-foxed wild hair just at the crown of his head.
His lips press to Tony’s ear, “Come on, baby. Come on,” he says, glancing down and changing his tone, “Cum for me, Mr. Stark.”
Sure enough, right on cue, like a tune played a million times, Tony blows his load and Peter pulls his fingers back. His hand returns to Tony’s cock to milk him for every last drop.
“Not so bad, was it?”
Tony chuckles, the sound miserable and deliriously happy at the same time. Peter takes it as a win.
He slicks his cock up with lube, adding more to Tony as well. The man loves it when it’s slick and squelchy. Something about the feel and the sound that makes it so much dirtier than it has any right to be.
“On your knees, baby, I know you can do that much still.”
Tony listens, back arching as he keeps his upper half low and Peter groans.
“God, you always look fucking beautiful like this,” he says as he positions himself. He grabs Tony’s hair again and pulls him back on him, lips to the older man’s ear once more, “Fuck yourself, Mr. Stark, show me how bad you want it.”
Tony shudders in his arms, but starts moving immediately, not even giving himself time to acclimate to the stretch.
Peter knows him too well to question it, he can all but /hear/ the questions and exclamations and dense content Tony is trying to sort through about what all of this says about himself. But it’s not stopping him from /doing/ it, and, as a result, vice-versa.
He coos and babys Tony vocally, praising him as he holds his hair tight.
Tony’s half out of it when Peter pushes him down, holding him in place as he starts drilling into him so fast that it takes Tony’s breath away.
He sobs and clutches back, grabbing Peter’s hand as their eyes meet.
“God, you’re so fucking tight, Mr. Stark,” Peter says in just the way he used to, that awed voice, his hips pistoning hard enough to make the bed groan.
Tony’s toes curl, his face red, his hand gripped tight in Peter’s as he cums more, Peter following right after him.
They collapse together, Peter being mindful to clean them up and put the lube back before pulling Tony into his arms.
Tony’s always been a cuddler. The intimacy after sex is his favorite part and this Tony is no different, clinging to him and burying his face in Peter’s neck.
He’s silent and trembling for so long that Peter’s convinced he’ll fall asleep before he finally says something.
But he does, at last, speak up.
His voice is wrecked and low, “I… didn’t know it could be like that,” he admits, chuckling and shaking his head, “I’ve been with every kind of woman, but I’ve never let someone… do /that/ to me.”
Peter nods silently, running his hand up and down Tony’s back, “We’re not always like that,” he says, keeping his voice light and open, “Sometimes it’s sweet and slow, sometimes it’s half-dressed against a wall at the front of the lab, sometimes it’s in the shower because we can’t get enough.”
“Mmm.”
“But you love nothing more than when I lay you out.”
Tony chuckles again, “I knew I… I had a theory, I mean. I assumed… that… but I just…”
“You were afraid,” Peter says and Tony pulls back to look at him. Peter stares up at him, “You thought I wouldn’t respect you after, that I’d think of you differently. And I /did/ think of you differently,” he says honestly, smiling, “I loved you /so/ much more for allowing yourself to let me give you what you needed.”
Tony shakes his head slowly, “I don’t see how that kid turns into this.”
Peter finally laughs, “You’d be surprised.”
“I /am/ already. I’m mostly surprised that I just came twice in… less than fifteen minutes.”
“It’s not always possible,” Peter shares more, “When you’re gone for a long time, though? When we’re separated? When we haven’t been as wild… sometimes.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t pulled that off myself since I was about twenty-seven, not in a normal fashion, at least.”
Peter shrugs, “Practice.”
“I see.”
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Starker!Makeup drabbles for Peter’s return to the MCU... it’s a teeeny bit meta.
Part 1 and 2
He finishes shaving the perfect lines of his beard, clearing away the shaving cream and shutting out the bathroom light as he heads back through the house, joining Peter in the kitchen.
“FRI, you can’t take advice from a twelve-year-old magazine article,” Peter says as he flips the grilled sandwich, turning and smiling wide when he sees Tony, “Hey daddy-oh…” he stops when Tony presses his entire body to the back of Peter, sliding his hands up the backs of Peter’s thighs, over his ass.
“Let me guess,” Tony says lowly, pushing Peter’s sweats down, “Baby woke up with a sweet tooth?”
“Yeah,” Peter says shakily.
“Grilled peanut butter and grape jam?”
Peter arches back when Tony presses two slick fingers into him, “M-… hm… yeah.”
Tony nods to himself, glancing to make sure Peter doesn’t burn his food, “Careful,” he warns, and just as Peter’s turning down the heat, he pushes the hem of his pajamas down enough to free his own dick, guiding Peter back.
“Tony-”
“Mr. Stark,” Tony corrects him, smirking as he runs his fingers over Peter’s stomach.
Peter looks back to his face and a visible tremor runs through the kid, “M-... Mr. Stark,” he corrects himself, voice intentionally higher, “S-sorry, sir.”
“Don’t apologize, just do better.”
“Fuck,” Peter closes his eyes, rocking back as Tony keeps the pace slow and agonizing, drawing it out.
He reaches around to shove his fingers in Peter’s open mouth, “Glad you’re back home where you belong, kiddo. It didn’t feel the same without you.”
“Mm?” Peter asks around his fingers, licking and sucking at them eagerly.
“You know it wasn’t,” Tony says, kissing his neck and shoulder, “You don’t need me to tell you how hard it was for me. How hard it was on all of us, but especially me.”
He pulls his fingers back, wrapping them around Peter’s dick and pumping him in time with the thrusts.
“I know,” Peter gasps, finally pulling the pan from the burner and focusing on Tony, “I’m sorry, M-Mr. Stark.”
“I know you are, baby, I know.”
He pulls Peter back from the counter, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around his mouth, dragging him down into quick, rushed thrusts.
Peter reaches back, with nowhere else to grab, holding the back of Tony’s neck as he gasps and moans into the palm pressed firmly to his lips. There’s the sharp exhale of breath from his nose each time Tony pushes back in, the drop of his head onto Tony’s shoulder as he cums.
He kisses Peter’s neck, running the tip of his nose along Peter’s jaw, “God, I missed this. I’m not letting you leave again.”
“T-Mr. Stark,” Peter clutches at him.
“So beautiful,” he says and traces his fingers down Peter’s throat, “You should always look like this. Fucked out of your mind and desperate for more.”
All Peter can do is nod, words beyond him at this point.
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@ironspiidey
Starker!Makeup drabbles for Peter’s return to the MCU… it’s a teeeny bit meta.
Part 1 and 2, Part 3
“You can unpack things later,” Tony says, tugging Peter from the dressing room and pulling him in.
“I mean, I can,” Peter smiles and sways with him, “I’d like to get it done, though.”
“Later,” Tony insists, kissing him, “Later, when I’m not here or something. Right now I want to spend all of the time I have with you.”
Peter stares at him and leans in to rest their heads together, “Can’t believe I was gone for over a month,” he says, melting into Tony’s arms.
“I know,” Tony sighs, his hand moving to Peter’s lower back, “Felt like an eternity to me. Every day… just made it that much worse.”
Peter pulls back to look at him, frowning, “You weren’t reading the articles, were you?”
“Every single one I could get my hands on,” Tony says shamelessly.
“Tony.”
“I know, I know,” Tony shrugs helplessly, chuckling, “I’m a glutton for punishment, what can I say? The memes alone were absolute torture. But I… I couldn’t help looking for those small glimmers of hope.”
Peter rolls his eyes, “People are so dramatic, /you’re/ so dramatic.”
“I live for the drama.”
Peter leans in and kisses him, “You know that if I had any choice in the matter, I’d stay here with you for the rest of my life.”
“I know,” Tony says, but there’ll always be a part of his heart that fears how unrealistic it really would be, for them to continue on without at least a few more hiccups on down the line.
“I love you.”
Tony smiles and kisses him, “I love you too, you know I do. I’ll always love you.”
Peter shakes his head, glancing away but then laying his head on Tony’s shoulder, “Maybe if you hold me hard enough, I won’t go anywhere.”
“We both know that doesn’t always work.”
“Try.”
“Alright.”
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Whumptober - 1. Shaky Hands
Working on Whump-tober
Peter reaches out and pulls the soldering iron from Tony’s hand, “I can do it.”
“Peter,” Tony sighs, reaching to take it back.
“I can do it,” Peter insists and butts in against the workbench, smiling at the older man, “Really, don’t worry about it.”
Tony backs off and leans on the side of the bench to watch him, curling his right hand into a fist. Fortunately, Peter’s been patient with him over the past few months, but it’s been seventy-five days since the snap, he should be able to use his arm by now.
Peter glances at him and their gazes catch.
“Relax,” the kid tells him, “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“It /is/ that big of a deal,” Tony says, turning away from him and slamming his fist down on the metal surface, feeling it bend under his hand, “I’m a mechanic, this is my life. If I can’t do this-”
“There are plenty of other things you can do, if this is the end of the line here,” Peter says from behind him and Tony tenses when the hand touches his waist, guiding him back around, “You almost died, you’re lucky to be alive. Come on, your physical recovery has been practically unheard of-”
“It’s not enough.”
Peter sighs and takes Tony’s hand in his, “You’ve just gotta be patient.”
“Yeah?” Tony tests, brows narrowing, “And what if they’re always like this?”
“Then you’ll find a way to fix it,” Peter says confidently, smiling, “You always do. You’ll fix it, Mr. Stark. And if you can’t? You’ll find a way around it.”
Tony has a hard time believing it, but the kid’s optimism is a bit contagious.
“Why do you gotta be so damn positive all the time, kid?” he growls in annoyance, “Anyone ever tell you how /dangerous/ hope is?”
Peter shrugs, “No,” he motions back, “Now can you let me do this? You’re slowing down a process here,” he complains, mimicking Tony’s chiding dad-tone perfectly.
“Fine, fine, solder away,” he flits his hands out, “Don’t let me stop you.”
“I don’t plan to.”
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Whumptober - 3. Delirium
1, 2
Cleaning up after the explosion was easy.
The lab was back up and operating within a couple days and Peter was fully healed long before then.
But the effect it had on Tony was unprecedented. He did his best to keep it from Peter and the rest of the Avengers, drowning his panic in the middle of the night or leaving the room for a drink whenever the topic started steering in that direction.
Eventually, the lack of sleep caught up with him.
He woke at some point after passing out, tucked in his bed with the lights out, still fully dressed.
Once he watched the footage back, he realized that it was Peter that had found him and carried him off to his bedroom about an hour ago. It was a little embarrassing, but he’s been carried by women before, so maybe not really. Or maybe the reason why he felt bad about it was because, between him and his mentee, one of them was the mature one, and it wasn’t Tony.
He left his bedroom that night and grabbed a nice, aged whiskey from the collection with full plans of drowning his sorrows, but it wasn’t long before those silent feet carried Peter into the room at just the wrong time.
Tony peers up over his glass and smiles, leaning hard on the counter, “Hey, Pete.”
“I knew it,” Peter says and Tony can’t tell for sure, but the kid sounds kind of annoyed at him.
He might be a little delirious from sleep deprivation and the alcohol already working its way into his brain by the time Peter joins him, but he can still tell that something is eating at his little spider.
“The only thing that’s eating at me is you.”
Oh, he said that aloud.
Peter lifts his brows, looking unimpressed.
“Mmm, I don’t mind eating at you,” Tony mutters, taking another sip of his glass before he realizes it’s empty. He sets it down to pour more but Peter pulls the whiskey and the glass out of his reach, “Come on, Peter. Stop messing around.”
“What’s your problem?” Peter asks, brows narrowed, “I thought you were sober.”
“And I thought you were /safe/,” Tony says back, reaching out for the bottle, but Peter moves away fast enough that he plants his arm on the counter instead and nearly falls over completely.
Peter puts the bottle back behind him and turns to Tony, “This is about the lab explosion?”
“Peter… how many times do I have to see you die?”
“What?” Peter asks, startled by his change of tone.
Tony moves closer, reaching out and touching his face, “I just want you to be safe, that’s all I want… is that so much to ask? Really?”
“I’m a superhero, you need to respect that.”
“I respect-”
“I can heal, I have super strength,” Peter tells him, speaking too fast for Tony to keep up, “Why is it such a problem with you? Because I’m a kid? I’m not a kid, I haven’t been a kid for a /long/ time, and you can’t hover over my shoulder every hour of the day. I’m not your responsibility.”
Tony frowns, “You /are/ my responsibility.”
“No, I’m not!” Peter raises his voice, “I’m /my/ responsibility. I’ve been doing this since before you came along, and I’d be doing it even now, if you never had. I’m not your son. You can’t keep worrying about me-”
“Oh yes I can-”
“Why?!” Peter throws his arms out, “Why? You don’t act like this with Thor, or with… with Captain America. You don’t act like this with the Scarlet Witch or Natasha or Clint or-”
“Because I’m not in love with them!”
Peter stops and blinks in shock and Tony groans miserably, pushing Peter out of the way and leaving the room.
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Whumptober - 4. Human Shield
1, 2, 3
(Flashback)
“Why don’t we ever get /creative/ enemies?”
Tony lifts a brow, “Are you seriously complaining that they came with real weapons and not… what? Magic?”
“I just mean that I’d like to see them do something different,” Peter says, panting loudly into Tony’s ear as he jumps and leaps around wildly, dodging bullets left and right.
“Sorry to disappoint, kid, but this is it most of the time,” Tony tells him, ducking a spray of fire and returning it.
Peter sighs, “That’s disappointing.”
“Want me to unlock your iron suit?”
“No, no,” Peter says, “I’d like to actually do this /without/ cheating.”
“How is it cheating to use everything you’ve got, kid?” Tony asks rhetorically, “They are. You shouldn’t be ashamed of using nanotech to deflect these kinds of things.”
He says that, but he’s been watching Peter from a distance and the kid is phenomenal at avoiding fire.
“Feels like… cheating because I’m not you,” Peter tells him, pulling a gun from one of the men and shattering it in his fist, slamming it over the thug’s head and knocking him out, “No offense, sir. But everyone has their own thing and that’s not mine.”
“Right, right.”
Peter chuckles, but stops when one of the men pulls out a minigun and aims it directly at him, “Oh shit!”
“Pete, get down!” Tony bursts after him, flinging himself into the line of fire and turning his back to cover Peter, wrapping his arms around him and holding him down to keep him safe.
“Mr. Stark!” Peter shouts, reaching up and watching him helplessly as the bullets barrel down, the armor quickly replacing and repairing itself in an attempt to stop any of them from breaking through. It can’t last forever, but it buys him some time to think of an exit plan.
Tony grits his teeth, “It’s okay, just stay put.”
“Yeah, yeah… yes… sir,” Peter nods, his hands on the armor just around the arc reactor as Tony lights up, plates of nanotech separating from him and blasting the gunman.
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Whumptober - 6. Dragged away
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
(Flash back, cont’d from last)
Tony gasps when Peter’s thrown into his lap, the both of them flying back and hitting the wall, but not hard enough to break the wood of the chair Tony’s still tied up to.
“Augh, sorry, sir,” Peter groans, gasping and pushing the blade away just in time for it to stick in the wall at Tony’s ear. Peter pulls the man in, kicking him between the legs and twisting his arm as his body presses firmly against Tony, digging him harder into the wall.
It’s a little painful, but Tony’s too turned on by everything that’s happening to care.
Peter reaches down to rip one of the legs off the chair, hitting the man in the head as his large fingers fly forward and wrap around Peter’s throat, slamming him back, the kid’s head just next to Tony’s and close enough to brush their cheeks together.
“I think you’re doing great, kid,” Tony says, smiling, “I’d love to help, but you’re squishing me.”
“Sorry, sir,” Peter pants in his face as he reaches down between them (Tony’s breath catches for a second there), fumbling at Tony’s belt, “Mind if I take this?”
“No, no, go right ahead-” Tony groans as Peter rips the leather from his slacks, “Glad to be of service.”
Peter snaps the belt out, hitting the man in the face and throwing him off enough that he can leap up, feet going over their heads and sticking on the wall. He stands horizontally, toes just above Tony as he pushes the guard back and wards him off, but then a second one joins them.
“Get my hands, would you?” Tony asks, trying to be helpful and leaning forward.
“Right,” Peter reaches down, snapping the ropes and ducking to miss the blade when one of the men tries to stab him, “Oh my god, why does he have a knife?” he asks, tone mocking (there’s probably a reference there, but Tony doesn’t get it), flipping out and kicking the man in the face, “Don’t you guys have /any/ manners?”
Tony groans as his arms are finally back in their rightful place, rolling his shoulders and standing to help Peter.
He grabs the first guy, pulling him around by the collar and slamming an elbow across his jaw, reaching out to grab the knife from where it was embedded in the wall.
Peter guides him along, guiding him back through the hall, “We’re almost out, we just gotta-” before he can finish speaking, something slams into them from an attached hallway and knocks both of them off their feet.
Unfortunately, Peter takes the brunt of it, flying back and hitting the ground hard.
Tony recovers first, lifting his upper half from the ground just in time to block the short sword coming down at him. He hits the man in the stomach, the jaw, and is about to take the blade from his hands when something wraps around his neck and yanks him off his feet.
His back hits the ground hard, air flying out of his lungs as he chokes, hands reaching up.
He looks down to see the lines of dirt his legs are leaving behind, Peter still out cold on the floor as he’s dragged away.
Whumptober - 7. Isolation
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
(Flash back, cont’d from last)
Tony’s been captured before, this isn’t his first rodeo.
In hindsight, it’s actually easier this time. Probably because he’s less of a civilian and has been working with the Avengers for some time now.
And probably also because he’s technically been captured twice at this point.
His biggest concern is for Peter.
Last he saw him, the kid was out cold on the floor and didn’t show any sign of waking up. Did they capture him too? Or did they leave him there?
If it was the latter, Tony tried to assure himself that Peter would be fine.
Peter’s strong and smart and resourceful. If he woke up alone, he would find his way out and he would survive. He didn’t need Tony to make sure of that. He would be fine on his own.
But if he was captured as well…
Best not to think about that.
They leave him alone most of the day, letting him spend his time slowly going mad with all the ‘what if’ scenarios he can think of.
He spends the time pacing the cell they’ve put him in, checking the walls, checking the floor, checking the bed in the corner and anything else he can get his hands on.
The problem always comes down to this.
Without the housing unit, he’s not much. He’s just a human that is too smart for his own good.
If he doesn’t have his armor, even if he still had the arc reactor in his chest, he would not be able to do much at all with it.
He needs the armor.
Meanwhile, Peter without his suit is /everything/ he is in the suit and more.
So all he can do is wait. Wait, and hope. And maybe plot some kind of escape, if they ever let him out of this damn cage.
Whumptober - 8. Stab Wound
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
(Flash back, cont’d from last)
The questioning comes, and then being shoved into ice-cold water when he doesn’t comply. See? It’s just like the first time.
The fourth time they shove him down, they don’t pull him back up.
Instead, he feels the hand let go of him and he’s tentative to come back up on his own, but he can only hold his breath so long.
Something sharp digs in at his back and he tries to fight the person off, but they back away and out of his reach.
His fingers slip back to the edge of the tub to push himself up out of the water.
Just as he starts to, he feels hands return to his neck and shoulder and he turns to shove them away as well, to attack, to do something. Maybe to make his escape, he hasn’t exactly planned it out just yet, but now seems like the best time to try something.
He throws out his fist, but his hand hits the shadowed figure as though he’s made of rock and the man doesn’t even have the decency to back away.
Tony reels in pain, still spluttering and coughing as he blinks to clear his eyes.
He first looks at his hand, then back up and he smiles in disbelief, “Peter?”
Peter’s arms wrap around him and Tony collapses against him, clutching at his skintight suit and still trying to catch his breath.
“Oh god, kid, you had me there for a moment.”
“I’m so sorry, sir, I came as fast as I could.”
“Nah, you did great,” Tony assures him, leaning on Peter as his vision starts to go black, his legs giving out under him.
Peter catches him, and Tony barely hears his panicked voice when he realizes that Tony’s been stabbed.
Earth 23 Expansion - AO3 Series
Apparently he has just that amount of restraint when around a nice pair of… legs, and a big, sexy brain. Male or not.
Whumptober - 9. Shackled
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
(Flash back, cont’d from last but not same memory)
They’ve been captured and tortured since too many times to count.
Tony’s always with him or determined to follow it through that most of the time they’re together. And any time they’re not, it’s the other that finds them eventually.
When they’re taken by aliens, they’re at a slight disadvantage.
Even the containment cell they’re put in is completely unusual and foreign tech that Tony ponders at, moving over to check how the bars of energy flow through from the ceiling, down into the ground.
He tests his restraints but they’re nothing like handcuffs on Earth, which is a weird sentence to consider and makes his gut churn.
Still, he tries breaking them with his feet - his bare feet. He tries to break them with his teeth, on the little cot, on the energy bars, on the toilet (or that’s what he’s assuming the thing in the back corner is, he’s still kind of unsure).
“Come on,” he groans when one of the guards passes by his cell, “What’s the point of being in a cell /and/ being handcuffed? Isn’t it all a little redundant? I’m not going-”
He backs away quickly, pressing to the wall when the bars vanish and the guards drag in someone else, throwing them down on the ground before him and Tony recognizes Peter immediately, still wearing his red and blue suit, but not his mask.
Tony runs to the kid to check his pulse, turning him over and his blood runs cold.
“What did you do to him!?” he shouts, standing up and running at the guard, but the guy shoves him away effortlessly and leaves them, the bars coming back down in place, “Hey! What did you do!?”
Whumptober - 10. Unconscious
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
(Flash back, cont’d from last)
Tony moves Peter to the only cot in the cell, mindful of how he lays the kid down. There’s no pillow provided, so he takes off his jacket and rolls it up, putting it under Peter’s head to give his neck some support.
He checks him over afterward, but even as he’s checking Peter, he can see the wounds healing and closing up.
For the millionth time, he reminds himself that he worries far too much for Peter. But it can’t be helped. It’s a burden he willingly takes on.
He combs the hair from Peter’s face and takes a seat near the end of the bed.
It’s been over an hour, and sitting on the ground to give Peter room to breathe is nice and all, but his back can only handle so much these days.
Unfortunately, he’s at the mercy of considering his future self.
No one comes back into the cell but the slide a couple of trays of food in. Tony moves everything over to one tray and immediately spends the time while Peter’s unconscious, testing the bars to see if the tray can separate the beams of energy.
It doesn’t work.
Instead, he ends up melting the tray along the edge he tests.
Peter eventually wakes up and Tony offers him the tray of food without another word, having not touched any of it himself.
He watches and waits as the kid eats every last thing on it, tossing it down with Tony’s tray and sitting back against the wall of the cell. A little color returns to his face, that fast metabolism kicking in and changing Peter’s entire demeanor before Tony’s very eyes.
“We getting out of here, sir?”
Tony smiles and nods, motioning to the wall behind Peter, “If you think you can do it, go ahead.”
Peter turns his attention to it and tests it, sliding his fingers over the surface before bracing himself. He reaches out, grabbing Tony and moving him behind Peter so that he’s properly guarded against any debris.
He slams his fist hard into the wall, punching through in one hit before he turns and grabs Tony, leaping out into the daylight beyond.
Whumptober - 11. Stitches
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
(Flash back, cont’d from last)
“Do I /want/ to know why you’re good at this?”
“Probably not, sir.”
Tony shivers at the brush of fingers on the back of his shoulder before Peter grips his arm to hold him in place.
“Not any more,” Tony says defiantly, narrowing his brows, “You get bad like this, you come to me, is that clear?”
“Crystal, sir.”
Tony feels his cheeks heat and balls his fist.
“I’m sorry,” Peter apologizes suddenly, “Did I hurt you? I’m trying to be as gentle as-”
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Tony says, his voice coming out hoarse and ragged, “You’re fine, just… keep doing what you’re doing, it’s okay, Pete.”
Imagine, /he’s/ the one comforting Peter when the kid is the one with the curved needle, jabbing it into him repeatedly, granted he is certainly trying to be careful about /where/ he jabs that thing.
“A-are you sure? You just tensed up like a lot,” Peter explains, “If I’m doing something wrong-”
“You’re not doing anything wrong, christ, kid,” Tony growls out, looking back at him, “Keep going, okay? You’re doing a stellar job. Don’t worry about me.”
Peter presses his lips together and nods, determination set on his face as he gets back to it and finishes in less than ten more minutes, cleaning the stitching and wrapping it with gauze. Tony tenses once more here when the kid just barely ghosts his fingers over Tony’s right nipple.
He turns, taking the fabric from Peter’s hands and finishing it himself.
“Sorry, s-sir-I-!”
Tony stands up and pulls him in, holding him and wrapping his better arm around Peter’s waist, “Stop apologizing so much. You saved my life.”
Peter finally hugs him back, those tentative fingers gripping his shirt and holding onto him like a lifeline.
“We’ll get out of this, I promise,” Tony says, lips just next to his ear, “I’ll get you out of here if it’s the last thing I do, you have my word.”
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Whumptober
Aaaand, I gotta duck out. My ADD is all over the place, I’ve got like 15 things I want to write, but here’s the last of what I had written.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11
12. “Don’t Move” (Flash back, cont’d from last)
Sneaking through the alien base unnoticed is easier said than done.
The damn place is like a fortress, filled to the teeth with armed guards and soldiers stationed around at posts every few feet. But Peter manages to climb along the walls high enough that they disappear in the darkness above, with Tony wrapped around him in the front like some kind of baby monkey.
It was a horrendous debate that did not end in Tony’s favor, but Peter was right in the end.
This position was best for his stitches, even though that meant that his dick was pressed firmly and rubbing against Peter’s abs - and it took all of his willpower not to think about it like that.
Instead, he focused on a science-y side of it, observing how effortlessly Peter climbed even with a full grown man in his lap, legs around his waist, arms around his torso. Peter handled it like Tony weighed nothing at all. Okay, maybe it wasn’t good to think of it like that either.
They got out of the compound with little effort on Tony’s part and Peter finally let him down once they reached an area that was not so densely populated.
Tony rolls his shoulders and stretches them to try and get the feeling back, “Not a bad idea, k-” he nearly shouts when Peter pulls him in, back behind some foliage and covers his mouth to keep him from making any more sounds than he already has.
“Don’t move,” Peter whispers, then drags him back even further, pulling him down and covering Tony with his body.
It’s a little weird for a solid moment there.
Tony feels the heat rising to his cheeks but keeps quiet and keeps down as, quite suddenly, a group of guards run past them at full speed. Tony feels Peter press even harder into him, keeping him tight to the ground and out of sight.
13. Adrenaline (Flash back, cont’d from last)
Once they’re gone, Tony starts to get up again but Peter slams him right back down and another group of guards pass along the road.
Tony’s at the end of his willpower, too, and he winces when he feels Peter shift against his erection.
The kid looks at him with wide eyes. There’s nothing accusing in them, but Peter’s definitely surprised by this outcome. Well, hey, so is he. This was the last place he expected to get aroused in.
“Sorry,” he mutters, smirking, “I can’t help it when people do things like hold me down against my will and show me that they’re stronger than me with such little effort.”
Peter blushes, but smiles sheepishly, “Sorry, sir.”
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s not appropriate at all, but we’re all human.”
“It doesn’t bother me, Mr. Stark,” Peter tries to assure him, it’s a valiant effort from the kid and it’s flattering, but Tony doesn’t respond.
He stands back up and takes Peter’s wrist, “Let’s-” he stops when Peter flips their hands, yanking Tony in and lifting him in his arms, “What… what are you doing?” he asks as the kid starts running.
“I don’t know, sir, my spidey-sense is tingling,” Peter tells him and Tony starts laughing, “Stop, quiet. Listen, okay, I know it sounds weird but something’s wrong. I just… I stopped asking questions-”
“No, I know what it is. I know what you’re talking about,” Tony responds, still laughing, “Happy told me all about it, but it’s called your Peter Tingle, right? That’s what it is?”
Peter groans, “Sir, please don’t call it that.”
“What, and ‘spidey-sense’ is any better?”
“Yes,” Peter says firmly and shudders, “Oh god,” he leaps just in time to miss the large blade that passes through where they just were, holding onto Tony firmly and leaping through the trees instead.
“They’re onto us?”
“I think so.”
Tony curses lowly, “We were so careful getting out.”
“Someone must’ve noticed…”
“To be fair, we weren’t exactly quiet.”
Peter frowns, “I’m sorry-”
“Don’t apologize, don’t regret. Just get us out of here alive, kid.”
“Yes sir.”
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Oct 20: Candy and Sweets
Peter’s doing some last-minute sweeping when the bell at the door rings as it’s opened. He closes his eyes and mutters a low curse to himself. It was already so late, he probably should’ve flipped the sign or something, but he didn’t really expect anyone to come in after nine.
He turns and forces on the smile, surprised to see none other than Morgan Stark running up to the front display and pressing her fingers to the glass.
“Oh, hey Morgan,” he says and stops what he’s doing, setting the broom aside, “Just here to look?”
Morgan sighs out a low ‘yeah’, but then smiles widely when she sees some of the Halloween ones that Peter set out for the occasion, “You made bats!”
Peter nods, “Uh, yeah. Aunt May doesn’t like them, she thinks they’re rodents. But-”
“I love bats,” Morgan says just as he does and they share a look, “Daddy took me to see baby bats last year.”
“Really?” Peter asks, leaning over the counter, “Fruit bats?”
“Yes, I-”
He glances up when the bell goes off again and then feels his toes curl in his shoes when he sees Mr. Stark standing there just inside the door.
Oh god.
Morgan is one thing. She’s still kind of up on that celebrity level, but she’s still just a child - she’s only seven, but Mr. Stark on the other hand? He is it, he’s a celebrity’s celebrity, he’s Iron Man himself in the flesh. And so much more to Peter, so maybe he holds his breath.
“You in here, slugger? Ah,” Mr. Stark stops when he sees Peter and smiles that billion-dollar smile, “Wow, you’re really cute. You work here?”
Peter blinks and numbly motions to himself, “Uh, me?”
“Yeah, you,” Mr. Stark says and winks, “You work here?”
“I do.”
Mr. Stark offers his hand, “Tony,” he introduces himself, taking Peter’s hand in his and covering it with his left, glancing him over.
“Peter,” Peter responds, barely able to feel his mouth, “And I know who you are, Mr. Stark, everyone does.”
“Yeah, well,” Mr. Stark shrugs, “I try not to make that assumption. Damn, you are painfully attractive- sorry, that’s not appropriate,” he says and giggles, raising his hands, “I don’t do that, I promise. I haven’t been like that since the early aughts.”
Peter blushes furiously, “No, uh… no, it’s… it’s okay. Surprising? Yes. But… definitely okay.”
Mr. Stark clears his throat and points towards Morgan, “This is my daughter, of course, Morguna Stark, say ‘hello’, kiddo.”
“Oh, we’re well acquainted,” Peter assures him, grinning, “Morgan comes here at /least/ once a week.”
“/Does/ she?” Mr. Stark asks, turning to look at his daughter, then he leans in and speaks lowly, “She doesn’t order anything, does she?”
Peter shakes his head, “Nope, she just comes to look at the pretty designs of the pastries.”
“Good,” Mr. Stark watches his daughter then, “She’s as bad as me,” he supplies, still keeping his voice low, “Sweet tooth from hell and a bad sense of self-control.”
Peter chuckles, “I guess that explains the donut thing.”
“Ah,” Mr. Stark snaps his fingers, pointing at Peter, “My trademark. God, it’s like people associate me more with donuts than they do with science. I have one named after me now and everything.”
“I know,” Peter leans on the cash register, “On National Donut Day, it’s a staple in our shop.”
Mr. Stark throws out his hands helplessly, “Well, I’ve gotta-oh, bats,” he says when he finally notices the Halloween display, moving over and leaning down to look, “These are really cute. Normally you just see the generic ones, you know? But… these really are super cute,” his voice gets lower the more he says, taking a picture of the display and turning back to Peter, “Mind if I try one?”
Peter blinks for a moment, thrown off guard once again.
“Like I said,” Mr. Stark shrugs, “No self-control.”
Peter grins and grabs a tissue to get one of the cookies, snagging a second just in case.
“Oh, you’re an angel, you read my mind,” Mr. Stark takes them, offering one to his daughter as he bites into his own, humming in approval, “Cinnamon, was not expecting that, nice touch.”
“They’re actually assorted, I believe Morgan’s is just chocolate,” Peter says as he watches her, then looks back to Mr. Stark, “I knew you liked cinnamon, so uh…”
“You knew?”
Peter tenses and looks away, “Uh, yeah, yeah, uh… I mean I’ve-yeah-”
“Tell you what,” Mr. Stark leans on the counter and smiles at him, “I don’t normally do this, but if you can tell me what my /favorite/ flavor of ice cream is, I’ll give you something nice.”
Peter feels the blood start rising up again, “Uhm, uh… it’s super fudge brownie, right?”
Mr. Stark looks impressed, then motions with a nudge of his head for Peter to lean in, “That was good, you didn’t even really hesitate with your answer.”
“Oh come on, everyone knows-” Peter stills when Mr. Stark cups his cheeks and presses a kiss to his lips.
Peter responds, albeit a little late, kissing him back and grinning.
“I’m sorry, I don’t really do this, I’m a little rusty,” Mr. Stark says and pulls back, “Pretty sure I’m reading you right, though. Any chance you’re available to-”
“Yes,” Peter responds before Mr. Stark can finish what he’s saying.
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Oct 21: Paranormal
TW: Endgame follow-up, with alt Happy Ending for those that NEED it. E>
Tony had never given the afterlife much of a thought.
He was a realist, a scientist, so he approached it like many of his peers did.
People are made of stardust, they’re mass and they’re energy. And when they die, that energy /must/ go somewhere. Whether it was in the walls, the plants, the power lines around them… it went /somewhere/.
But when he gets up from his body, leaving it behind, and turns around to watch his loved ones mourn him, he thinks that he probably should’ve given it more of a proper look at - maybe then he would’ve been prepared for what he’s experiencing now.
He tries to go home with Pepper but his body gravitates further away from her until he realizes what’s pulling him.
Peter.
Of course it’s Peter that draws him away from his wife and child, like he always had over the last five years.
So maybe he goes… a little willingly.
But watching what Peter goes through in the following weeks is hard.
Watching him being taken advantage of and hurt and abused by Mysterio is even harder, but he accepts that this is his fate.
Where he had the ability to influence and affect everything around him in his life, he’s now being shown how little he can really control. And maybe how little he really controlled when he was alive. It’s hard to watch Peter cry and not wrap his arms around the kid.
He’s young and he’s had the fate of the world put on him.
More than once, Tony ponders just why the hell he was left in the afterlife, unable to move on.
Somehow, his spirit had latched onto Peter. And try as he might, he can’t be more than a few feet away from the kid, even with real effort.
Any time he tries to leave, he starts to hurt, starts to lose breath, and then Peter will move and tug him back.
But he can’t actually /do/ anything. So what’s the point of all of it?
Tony floats along with him as he swings through Queens, stopping at one of the many little vigils set out and folding his legs as he puts down a candle of his own.
It’s about that time, isn’t it?
A year has passed by like no time at all and Tony’s still here, completely incapable of moving on.
Tony sighs and sits down as well, looking up at the spray-painted image of himself - not Iron Man, but Tony specifically. He can only guess that that’s why Peter picked this one out of all of the others.
“I miss you,” Peter says, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat.
Tony blinks and looks over to him.
“This whole year… I’ve felt so lost,” Peter continues, voice trembling, “I made a lot of mistakes, had to deal with a lot of shit. If it wasn’t for the Avengers - or what’s left of them… and-and Matt Murdock - I’d probably be sitting in a prison cell right now, doing time for something I never even did.”
He narrows his eyes, remembering the painstaking hours he had to sit through in court, watching Peter and not being able to do a damn thing about it.
“I never stop thinking about you,” Peter takes a long, deep, shaky breath, “There were so many things I wanted to tell you. So much I wanted to say, but it never felt like the right time.”
Tony swallows tightly, “I’m still here, kid,” he knows Peter can’t hear him, but he says it anyway.
Peter blushes, staring up at the Tony Stark on the wall, at his eyes, then looking away, “Some of it I wonder how you’d feel. If you’d be upset or disappointed. You’d probably pick on me, make jokes.”
“Never,” Tony insists, clutching his fists.
“I’ve… never even said it aloud,” Peter clears his throat, wiping away more tears, “I couldn’t even say it to MJ in person so I just broke up with her over text.”
Ah, he’d /assumed/ as much. But Tony had decided early on that he wouldn’t snoop over Peter’s shoulders. He was already seeing /far/ more than he should, so reading his personal conversations with people seemed like a bit too much.
He still wasn’t sure if it was fortunate or unfortunate that Peter had trouble masturbating after Tony died, and had pretty much given up trying altogether.
Or that Peter and MJ stopped making out on the couch and eventually had just decided to be friends.
“MJ apparently knew before I told her,” Peter shrugs, then looks back up at the painting, “But I loved you, I always loved you. I knew it was stupid and hopeless and pointless, but I’ve loved you since I was a little kid. I never told you, but you saved my life. I was like six years old, and all I knew was that I wanted to marry you one day.”
Peter chuckles and Tony feels his heart clench in his chest as he wipes away more tears.
“It’s been a year,” Peter says, his voice really hoarse now, “And I keep waiting for it to get easier, and it’s not. And you’re everywhere I look, everywhere I go. I don’t think it’s ever going to get easier for me, like they all keep saying. And I feel like if I had just… been better, if I had done something more, or if /I/ had used the gauntlet instead-”
“No!” Tony shakes his head, gritting his teeth, “Don’t say that, don’t you dare even think it!”
Peter jumps back from him, turning with wide, wild eyes.
Tony blinks, still sitting there, feeling the rage burning in his blood, but it simmers quickly when he realizes that Peter is… looking at him.
“M-Mr. Stark?” he asks in disbelief.
“You… can see me?” Tony asks back, trying not to get his hopes up.
“Oh god, no no no no no,” Peter gets up from the concrete and runs.
Tony sighs and can’t help but be yanked along with him, following Peter all of the way back to his apartment, through the window (or, well, for Tony it’s through the wall).
Peter curls into a corner, shaking his head and covering his ears, “Oh god, he’s still alive, he found me. This isn’t real, it’s-” he looks up towards Tony and then throws himself flat against the wall, “Go away! Leave, I-”
“It’s really me,” Tony motions to himself, “It’s me, Peter. Look, I… I can prove it. I don’t have like a fun story about finding out you watched porn in a hotel room or anything like that (which is fine, by the way). But we’ve… had a few personal moments, I like to think. Granted, most of them I was angry at you, or distant. I really tried in the end, kid, I tried. But I /do/ have proof.”
Peter stares at him silently, those big brown eyes wide with fear and confusion.
“When you were snapped, when you died in my arms,” Tony says, moving closer, “You kept telling me that you didn’t want to go, but right before you vanished, you told me you were sorry. And that apology, that one, kid, that has /haunted/ me ever since. You didn’t need to apologize to me, Pete, it should’ve been the other way around - I failed you. I failed horribly.”
“M-... Mr. Stark?” Peter asks tentatively.
“It’s me,” Tony kneels down to level their eyes, “It’s me, I’ve been here the whole time. I just… you couldn’t see me. And I don’t know why or how you can now, but I’m not gonna question it, even if it doesn’t make any sense at all. But don’t you /ever/, ever - not even for a second - wish that our situations had been reversed on that battlefield. I took the gauntlet, it was my burden to bear.”
Peter shakes his head.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Tony sighs, reaching out to brush his cheek, “Don’t you know I would’ve died anyway, if it had been you?”
Peter’s bottom lip trembles and he leans into the touch, squeezing his eyes shut.
“You’ve gotta go on for the both of us, Peter.”
“I can’t, I-”
“Yes you can,” Tony says confidently, “You’re stronger than me, you always were. You’re the strongest Avenger, and you’ll get through this. Just never stop letting people into that beautiful heart of yours. Because, trust me, there’s a lot of lost and broken people out there that you’ll find, and they need someone like you to be that light for them.”
Peter stares up at him and the look on his face is absolutely heartbreaking.
Tony leans in and presses his lips to Peter’s, pulling back to gauge whether or not it was okay to do, but Peter just stares at him blankly, “I love you, Peter,” he says and starts to add something else to fill the silence when Peter launches himself up into Tony’s arms.
Honestly? He’s touched Peter, he’s kissed Peter, but he still thinks the kid is about to barrel through him and fall out the other end.
But he doesn’t.
They kiss and clutch at one another until they’re breathless. And that’s just it… for the first time in a year, he’s breathless.
“Stay with me,” Peter pleads with him, “Stay with me tonight.”
Tony smiles and shrugs, “I think I can swing that.”
Alt, happy end if you don’t want bittersweet one I gave:
Tony cracks an eye open and smiles slowly when he sees Peter staring up at him.
“I’m still here?” he asks, voice hoarse from sleep.
Peter nods, “I thought… for sure you-”
“Right, I did too,” Tony says honestly, searching Peter’s face, “How do I feel?”
Peter smiles finally, reaching up to trace his fingers over Tony’s chest, “Real,” he tells him, “Warm. Your heart is beating. And… you’ve been snoring a little.”
“Mhm, one of my many flaws.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Peter says, leaning in and kissing him, “I liked it.”
“You’ll get tired of it really fast.”
Peter hums and shifts their legs together, “Looking forward to it.”
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Oct 22: Halloween Party - Masquerade
(literally listened to Ghost’s ‘Dance Macabre’ while writing this)
Mmm, Tony is wearing something like what Jareth wore in Labyrinth, in the ballroom scene ‘As The World Falls Down’, could also listen to that as an alternative. His mask tho is more like this, and this would be Peter’s (oh, what Peter’s wearing)
Peter rears his head back from the man wrapped around him, eyes narrowed and nose scrunched in disgust, “Uh, I’m gonna go get a drink. Sorry, I’m… I’m not interested in… any-any of that…”
He moves away as quickly as his legs can take him, making a beeline for the refreshments and pouring a glass of pink lemonade. One glance around the room and his shoulders relax when he realizes that the man he was with has moved onto another unsuspecting victim.
Peter wasn’t averse to most of the things the man had whispered in his ear, but to be told like /that/ kinda skeeved him out a bit. Some of it could be nice in the right setting, with the right person.
Someone moves up beside him, taking the glass from his lips and Peter turns to ask just who the hell the guy thinks he is when he stops, eyes wide.
“Come dance with me.”
Peter’s eyes drop to the unmistakable beard and he tries to say something but just nods numbly and takes the hand offered to him.
“A young buck like you, out here in the hunting grounds,” Mr. Stark says, pulling him in close, “It’s dangerous to walk such a setting alone, anyone could snatch you up and eat you before you had the time to realize you were ever in danger in the first place.”
“Like you?” Peter guesses, his voice higher than he wants it to be.
“Oh, absolutely,” Mr. Stark says, smirking and moving his palm to Peter’s lower back, “It’s what I’m famous for, is it not?”
Peter lifts a brow, keeping his own arms up at Mr. Stark’s shoulders, tracing his fingers over the jewels on his jacket, “I thought you were famous for your advances in cold fusion, the arc reactor, and the advantageous endeavor to make the United States fully dependant on clean energy by 2025.”
“Mm, so my beard gave me away,” Mr. Stark tuts, “You know, I’d shave it off if it wasn’t the most expensive thing on me tonight. But it is.”
“Maybe you should’ve gone with a full mask.”
“That’s my side gig,” the older man shrugs and smiles, “Really didn’t want to spend yet another night as Iron Man. Plus, that’s also probably a dead giveaway.”
Peter chuckles and shrugs, “Can’t blame a gal for trying.”
“You like the suit?” Mr. Stark asks him. Peter can tell by the tone that he’s actually curious, so Peter gives it to him.
“Doesn’t everyone?” he asks back, then smirks, “Yeah, it’s not a bad look on you, neither is this.”
“Nothing’s a bad look on me, young buck, I could wear a garbage bag and still at /least/ come off as charming.”
He’s probably right.
“You don’t need a garbage bag to impress me, Mr. Stark.”
“Damn, it really is disappointing that you know who I am,” Mr. Stark says in a huff, even though he’s smiling, “Now I can’t take you from the party and surprise you in the car.”
Peter feels his blood start pumping faster, “Oh?” he asks, trying to remain calm.
“Would’ve been /really/ funny, getting on my knees and taking my mask off - would’ve been hilarious.”
On his knees? Is he implying…?
“I could /pretend/ to be surprised,” Peter suggests hopefully.
“Mm, it wouldn’t be as genuine,” Mr. Stark moves in closer as they continue to dance around the room in time with everyone else, speaking low into Peter’s ear, “What I really want to do is take you home with me and fuck you so hard that the shape of you stays imprinted in my mattress for at least a week.”
Peter lets out a shaky breath and has to swallow and resist the urge to wipe the sweat from his brow with his mask still in place, “Are you planning on eating me, Mr. Stark?”
Mr. Stark chuckles and responds honestly, voice getting even lower as his breath warms Peter’s skin, “Absolutely,” his hand moves lower, “I bet you here and now I could spend hours on just your cute little ass alone. I’ll eat you out until you can’t even spell your own name.”
Peter turned the last guy away for talking to him like this, but this time he probably couldn’t be paid to turn down the man pressed against him, looking like everything Peter’s ever wanted, even if it’s just this once.
“Okay, I-I’m willing to accept that challenge, sir.”
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Oct 23: Pumpkins
(this is a continued plot from day 1, Oct 20th, the bakery au but can be read without it)
Somehow, Tony managed to rope this gorgeous kid into carving pumpkins with Morgan and him.
What he /wasn’t/ expecting, was to be bombarded by the other Avengers on a day off. But things rarely ever go his way, least of all when he wants some very rare ‘me time’.
Peter’s eyes go comically wide when Thor himself strolls in and takes a seat at the counter.
“Ah, good,” he says, setting Mjolnir down on the counter, “Natasha /said/ you would be here, I am delighted to see that she was not mistaken. Have you got plans for All Hallows Eve, Man of Iron?”
“You mean tomorrow?” Tony glances up from where he’s helping Morgan, “Yeah? I’m taking my daughter trick-or-treating,” his brows narrow, “What-”
“Stark.”
Tony turns to the door as more of them come in, Clint and Dr. Banner, Rhodey, Cap, Bucky, and lastly Sam.
“Uncle Bruce!” Morgan shouts in glee, running around the counter to jump into his arms.
“We need your help.”
Tony stands up from his stool, smiling tightly at them all, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m retired.”
“Tony,” Steve says, tone low and serious, “We can’t do it without you.”
Peter stares at all of them in wonder, but gravitates towards Tony as he moves from the counter.
“Nope, don’t ‘Tony’ me,” he says firmly, “You can’t butter up this old man. Last time I joined you on some stupid mission, I lost my left arm… temporarily. I almost lost my life. I’m way too old for this, and, you know… /I’m retired/. So no.”
Clint lifts his brows, “If I’m here, you’re going.”
“Except that I’m not,” Tony waves at him dismissively, “You wanna break a hip, you wanna embarrass yourself in front of the cool kids, that’s on you. But if I go out there and I don’t come back to my little girl, that’s on me. And I’m not doing that to her, so uh… leave, please? Unless /any/ of you are here to actually carve some pumpkins…”
“Or not…”
Tony glances around to Peter.
“Maybe you should go. They need you,” he says tentatively, “I can take Morgan trick-or-treating for you. If it’s just her not being able to go out that you’re worried about. Without Iron Man? I don’t like their odds.”
Tony smiles slowly and leans on the counter, “Yeah, what makes you think I’ve still got what it takes?”
Peter shrugs, “You haven’t been out of the game long,” he reasons, “You look better than ever, I think your comments about age might be an exaggeration.”
“Mm, words like that will get you /everywhere/ with me,” Tony says lowly, moving closer to Peter and resting a hand on his waist, “Where were you when I needed a cheerleader in my corner during Ultron?”
“In diapers, probably,” Clint says in disgust, looking away from them, “Why are you interested in a dinosaur?”
“I only look young because I was blipped,” Peter responds, smiling, “But yeah, I’m young. And you’re not wrong, I /am/ interested,” he says as he turns back to Tony, wetting his lips, “Very interested.”
Tony’s brows lift and Sam makes an ‘ooo, shit, kid’s got attitude’ comment that makes his smile grow wider, “You sure you won’t take it personally if I have to duck out now?”
Peter glances up towards the ceiling, considering it, “Only if don’t you come back and make it up to me.”
“Make it up? How?” Tony asks eagerly, picking his tea up off the counter and giving it a last stir, “Dinner? Movie? We could watch something scary. You could curl up against my side and hide your face when you get too spooked or grossed out.”
“That’s not a /bad/ idea. But I was actually thinking something more along the lines of…” Peter says slowly, then leans up on his toes to whisper in Tony’s ear.
Tony spits out some of his drink, coughing and spluttering and smacking his chest with his fist, “Jesus, kid, you’re going to kill me before I even head back onto the battlefield, then who’s gonna save these losers?”
Peter pulls back to smile up at him, “I also have like… one more condition.”
“Oh?”
“I wanna see you suit up.”
Tony clears his throat, “It’s not that slow. It’s not like stripping-”
“I know,” Peter shrugs, “I’ve watched compilations.”
“Tony, where did you /find/ this kid?” Rhodey asks curiously, somehow managing to sound both disgusted and intrigued.
Tony stares down at Peter, feeling ravenous for something that’ll have to wait, for an indeterminable amount of time, “It really doesn’t bother you that I have to go? Even though I’m retired? Even though it shouldn’t be my job? That doesn’t bother you?”
Peter chuckles, confused, “Why would it bother me? I know who you are.”
“Fair enough, but-”
“Do you /want/ it to bother me?”
Tony shakes his head hurriedly, “God no, I’ve been there. It’s exhausting. You’re not going to say-” he imitates his ex with his next lines, “‘I hate the suits, you should have shirts’ or… ‘There are better people, more qualified people’ or… ‘I can’t take this anymore, I never know if you’re gonna kill yourself or wreck the whole company’? Nothing like that?”
Peter blinks and then blushes, “I, yeah, no… definitely not. First of all, Mr. Stark,” a few of the Avengers chuckle, Sam actually /giggles/, “The suits are a part of you and they have been for a while. And you’re the /most/ qualified person. Also, I can take anything you can dish out, so, you know… try. You’re welcome to.”
Tony drags him in, kissing him and wrapping his arms around Peter, he pulls back just for a breath, “You sure?”
“Mhm,” Peter says and kisses him again.
He pulls back after a third and fourth, stepping away and tapping his chest twice to activate the bleeding edge armor, watching with delight as Peter’s eyes light up.
Tony leaves the helmet up as he turns to take Morgan from Bruce’s arms, “You okay with this too, kiddo?”
“Yes,” she says, smacking his chest, “Go be a superhero, Daddy.”
Tony brushes their noses together, “Well, I can’t say ‘no’ to the demands of Princess Morguna H. Stark, now, can I?”
She giggles and kisses his cheek, “Be careful.”
“Always.”
The room grows tense suddenly and Tony looks over from his daughter in the direction they’re all looking, stilling when he sees Peter at the counter, checking out Mjolnir in his hands.
Tony watches as he turns it this way and that way, looking at the design of the handle last.
“This thing is so awesome,” he says, impressed, and then he offers it over to Thor, “Cool hammer, I see why you use it all the time.”
Thor stares at him, eyes wide as he slowly takes it from Peter, “... Thank you… tiny one.”
Peter blushes when he realizes that everyone around them is staring at him, “Sorry, was I not supposed to touch it? Is touching it bad? Is it cursed?”
Rhodey turns to Tony, glaring, “You need to let this one go.”
“What?” Tony asks, looking at him and motioning to himself, “Me? I… what did I do? He’s the one that picked it up, I didn’t do-”
“He’s way too good for you, Tones, you’re just gonna hurt him,” Rhodey insists, “I would say that you don’t deserve him-”, (“Right,” Tony mutters.), “-but that’s a low blow and I’m sure you already know that, especially now.”
Sam adds a little insult to injury, “You gotta cut him loose before you clip his wings, man.”
“They’re not wrong,” Steve cuts in, brows drawn tight together.
Tony crosses his arms over his chest, nodding, trying not to feel so defensive, “Right,” he says again, frowning.
As focused on it as he is on trying not to lash out, he doesn’t miss Peter rolling his eyes, “I’d like to think I get a say in any and all of this,” Peter motions to them, “And I’m putting my foot down.”
Tony blinks in surprise, “Oh?”
Peter smiles at the others in the room, “Can all of you… please leave? Go wait in the car or something, I’d like to talk to /Mr. Stark/ alone.”
Bucky and Bruce chuckle, the rest of them slightly taken aback, but the Avengers themselves just… leave the house, without another question, not even a complaint. Maybe it has something to do with Peter literally lifting the unliftable, but, well…
Peter looks at Tony, walking around the counter and grabbing the bin of cookies and offering it to Morgan, “How about you show the team your awesome new bat cookies, I bet they’d like to try some.”
Morgan turns to him with hopeful eyes, “Can I?”
“Yeah, go ahead, slugger,” Tony winks at her, “Bruce’s favorite is vanilla.”
He waits until she’s out the door to turn to Peter, “I’m so sorry about all of this, honestly, kid. You don’t have to deal with any of it, they’re kind of right, you-”
Peter presses their lips together, kissing him hard and fast, one hand tugging his armor and him down by the collar, the other cupping his face in his helmet.
Tony moans, wrapping his arm around Peter and pulling him close, recovering from the brief, disarming kiss as he parts his lips and brushes his tongue over Peter’s, then pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. They’ve only really been at this for a few days, but Tony can already feel it settling in.
Peter kisses him a few more times, dropping his hands to Tony’s chest and staring up at him, “Your friends are jerks, don’t listen to them.”
“Yeah, I know,” Tony shrugs and winks.
“I mean it,” Peter says firmly, “I’m not ‘too good for you’, you’re too good for me. But do I care? No. I came today because I wanna be here. Fuck anyone who thinks either one of us is too good or deserves better.”
Tony hums lowly, “You really /are/ too good for me.”
Peter rolls his eyes, “Dinner, movie, and everything I said before?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe a little something-something with the suit on,” Peter suggests, running his hands down the metal plates of his ribcage.
Tony shifts only slightly, but God what he’d do to this kid if he had the time, “Yes, okay. If… that’s what you want.”
Honestly? The suit was always kind of his kink, never really Pepper’s. She didn’t even like kissing him while he was in it.
The thought of exploring such a thing at long last seems like a pipe dream he let go of back when he was young and spry enough to think of the /really/ creative things they could get up to with it. An almost forgotten desire that rises back up suddenly.
“Finish my pumpkin for me,” Tony kisses Peter’s lips and then his forehead, “I gotta go save the world… again.”
Peter grins, “Do it, and… you know, come back.”
“Promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“Please do.”
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Oct 24: Movies
(this is continued from day 1, Oct 20th, and Day 4, Oct 23rd, the bakery au)
“I like this more than the night in,” Peter says as he lays down in the back of the truck, curling against Tony (that’s right, over the last few days Mr. Stark turned into Tony and now that’s a thing).
“Mm, me too,” Tony mutters, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him closer as the previews play.
He brushes his fingers under the hem of Tony’s shirt, over the bandaging on his side, “Still sore?” he asks as he tries to touch as gently as he can.
“A little,” Tony’s lips brush Peter’s hair and he turns, tilts his head up, and meets his mouth.
Kissing Tony is always like taking a breath of fresh air. It’s somehow exhilarating and calming at the same time.
They haven’t had the chance to be close, not really. They were both kind of busy most of the time, or in the company of others.
Between the shop and Tony’s house, they’ve only had spare minutes to share in privacy.
It’s difficult to form any kind of relationship around that, but Tony seems very patient. Thankfully, because Peter is kind of going a little insane Who would’ve thought /he/ would be the one that would be tested, when he complained that his peers were always moving too fast.
He and Tony have already kind of, sort of, talked about this being something serious - although their hand was forced prematurely by the Avengers before even having a chance to consider it themselves (or, well, Peter’s considered it… since he was like 6).
And Peter wants it, honestly - of course he does. He’s ready for something serious.
He doesn’t doubt that Tony is too, but… it’s hard to gather who’s on what page when he’s still trying to figure out if Tony can stand him or not. Or if he’ll eventually get on the man’s nerves.
Peter’s heard the horror stories of meeting your heroes. And Tony was, and still is, his hero.
But he’s been nothing but an actual /angel/ in comparison to what he’s been portrayed as by the media.
“You’re thinking a little loud there, champ,” Tony says suddenly, startling him from his thoughts, “Wanna share with the rest of the class?”
Peter smiles sheepishly, “That obvious?”
“A little. But I’m also painfully perceptive.”
“Sorry.”
Tony shrugs, “Don’t be. Any chance those thoughts have to do with me leaving during our pumpkin carving?”
Peter looks at him, confused, “Uh, no, why?”
The older man smiles then, but Peter can /tell/ it’s forced, and that bothers him.
“No reason,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but Peter’s not buying it, “Just wondering if you’ve gotten tired of me yet.”
Peter huffs a laugh, “Honeymoon phases typically last six months to a year,” he turns into Tony, resting his chin on his chest and then moving to sit up on his elbow to try and convey the seriousness of what he’s about to say, “Actually, what I was thinking was, uhm… am I… are we moving too fast?”
“Sorry, kid, I know one speed and one speed only,” Tony apologizes, “And that’s full speed ahead. Is it too fast? I can try to tone it down if it’s making you uncomfortable.”
“No, no, I’m not uncomfortable at all,” Peter blushes, “I was… actually worried I’d make /you/ uncomfortable by moving so fast that you might… start running in the opposite direction.”
Tony makes a sound like Peter’s brought up a good point, “No, you’re right. I suddenly feel less attracted to you.”
Peter punches him lightly, smirking when he lets out a weak huff and chuckles, pulling Peter in closer to him, as tight to him as probably possible.
“Don’t hit me, I’m all mushy right now.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re mushy /all/ the time,” Peter responds, but presses a few kisses to his neck, “You’re such a bleeding heart, Tony Stark.”
Tony hums lowly and Peter shivers when he feels the press of fingers in his hair.
“You still haven’t told me what movie we’re watching.”
“You’ve probably never heard of it.”
Peter rolls his eyes, “Please, I’ve watched all the classics. I doubt you could surprise me. Is it… Dead Alive?”
“No.”
“The Thing?”
“No.”
“The Frighteners? The Evil Dead? Friday the 13th?”
“All really good movies, but no, no, and no.”
Peter makes a motion like zipping his mouth as the movie finally starts, watching in silence until the title finally shows and he looks at Tony, brows lifting, “Cooties? What /is/ this?”
“Zombie movie, shh.”
“Okay, okay, shh-ing,” Peter agrees and settles back down, smiling when he feels the warm fingers touch his, lacing together.
They’re huddled there in the back of the truck together until the movie finishes and then Tony drives Peter back home while Peter asks him anything and everything he can think of about the movie - the logistics of zombies and how they became what they did in the movie, how it was spread, how they each would likely handle something similar.
It was nearly midnight by the time they reached Peter’s house and Tony parked the car in the driveway and turned to smile at him in that way that made Peter’s stomach flip.
Tony started to open his mouth when Peter spoke before him.
“Do you… maybe… wanna come inside?”
Tony’s mouth closes again and he smiles, “Sure.”
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Oct 25: Costumes
Tony is shameless when it comes to his daughter.
He can’t help it.
At this point, he would do or give anything to Morgan to make her happy. So, when she says she wants to dress as Little Red Riding Hood and that she wants him to be the big bad wolf, he agrees.
He dresses the part, he chaperones her trick-or-treating experience and even joins a group of mothers out with their own children when Morgan learns that some of them are friends she knows from school.
Tony gets a lot of laughs for his costume, but he humors them and makes the appropriate comments about people with eyes too big or noses to big, or things that are all the better to do whatever with. It’s a fun little back and forth and Morgan delights any time he says something of the sort.
She’s having a good time, and that’s what matters.
What he doesn’t expect is, halfway around the block, they’re joined by a few rambunctious teenagers. And one of them… is-
“Mr. Parker,” Tony says in delight and smiles when Peter turns those big brown eyes on him.
The kid’s outfit is actually killing him.
Peter joins him as the rest of the kids run up to knock on the door of a house, smiling widely, “Mr. Stark,” he responds, looking Tony over, “You look good.”
“I look like a joke,” Tony chuckles, lifting a brow, “What the hell are you wearing?”
Peter holds his arms out, looking down at himself, “What… you don’t like it?”
Does he?
Tony looks Peter up and down and lets out a slow breath, he /does/ like it. He likes it too much.
“It’s… not bad, kid,” he says and forces a tight smile on his face.
Peter grins, “I worked pretty hard on it,” he poses, putting his hand out like Tony does, “Even lights up and everything.”
“It’s safe though?” Tony asks, eyeing the repulsor as it lights up.
“Oh yeah, it’s completely safe.”
“Cool beans,” Tony talks around him, “Yeah, it’s not bad.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, sir.”
Tony lifts a brow, “Oh? That so?”
Peter’s eyes drop over him and, oh lordy, he actually feels nervous with the way the kid’s eyes come back up to his.
“Yes, sir.”
Not sure where I was going with this, but I kinda got... stuck. Enjoy? You can buy me a ko-fi or join my Patreon for lots more Starker stuff early and some exclusives, live writing etc…