endgame-ironspider - Tumblr blog

[endgame-ironspider]

caught (after party)

[endgame-ironspider]

𝐿𝒶𝒹𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃, 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝑒, 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓊𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓌𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 🔥🔥🔥

[endgame-ironspider]

Please wrote a story with Peter meeting Tony in one if his dad's meeting for work and the Tony becoming Peter’s daddy ...Thank you

I changed this slightly by making aunt May a badass businesswoman instead of Peter’s dad :) (all characters are 18+)

“It’ll do you some good, Peter.” May said firmly as she tapped away on her tablet. “You need to know how to win over the competition if you want any hope of running this business with a semblance of success.”

“But they’re so boring,” Peter pouted, “full of dusty old men and statistics.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the real world.”

Peter huffed, sliding down in the soft leather car seat, folding his arms with a pout for extra effect. May didn’t look up, but chuckled, and Peter rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Who are you meeting with?”

“Tony Stark. Well, Stark Industries. It’s normally Pepper Potts, but apparently she’s on her honeymoon, and these contracts really can’t wait for her to get back.”

Which was how Peter found himself sitting on a chair in the corner of the boardroom, trying to feign interest as May made her presentation to Stark Industries, when really all he could think about was how delicious Tony Stark looked in his suit. Everything about him just oozed power and confidence, and it made Peter want to drop to his knees and beg.

“I adore hearing you talk business, miss Parker.” Tony drawled, grin etched onto his face as May raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and Peter felt himself practically salivate. “There’s nothing like a woman who knows what she’s doing in the boardroom.”

“As much as I adore your unending flattery, mister Stark,” May deadpanned, “do we have a feasible deal, here?”

“Of course,” Tony nodded, “if you could send the drafts over to my lawyers, I’ll get them back to you as soon as possible.”

Peter stood with the rest of the room as May and Tony shook hands, and was preparing to leave, until he heard Tony speak again. 

“Is that your nephew?”

“Indeed it is. It does him good to sit in on meetings occasionally, get a feel for how the business works.”

Tony hummed in agreement, and Peter felt himself suddenly weak at the knees as Tony pinned him with an unwavering stare, assessing him like he was a piece of meat. If it were anyone else, Peter would have bristled, pulled himself up and stared right back, but there was something domineering in the older man’s gaze that made him just want to bow his head and obey. 

“You in college, kid?”

“Yes, sir.”

“First year?”

“Second.”

“Business studies?”

“No sir. Biomechanical engineering.”

“Interesting. MIT? Princeton? Yale?”

“MIT, sir.”

“Oh, truly the best of the best, mister Parker.” Tony grinned, and levelled Peter with a playful look. “Perhaps you’d like to hop over to Stark Industries at some point, come and take a look at the R&D floors? With the permission of your scarily efficient aunt, of course.”

“That’s- um- that’s-” An encouraging look in the form of a raised eyebrow and a half smile from May had Peter nodding, making better eye contact with his shoes than with the man in front of him. “That’d be great, mister Stark, thank you.”

“Great! I’ll have my people get in contact with your people. I look forward to seeing you again, Parker.”

With a dazzling grin and a clap on Peter’s shoulder that lingered fractionally longer than it should have done, Tony was gone, followed quickly and silently by his entourage. 

“Well that was interesting.” May mused, making a point of keeping her eyes on her phone screen as they left the boardroom, saving Peter’s blushing face some dignity. “He certainly took a shine to you.”

“I’m sure he’s like that with everyone.”

“Yes, I’m sure he is. Anything you feel like sharing with the class?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re red as a fire truck and didn’t look Stark in the eye the whole time we were in there.”

“He was just intimidating, I guess. He’s a celebrity.”

“You’ve met more celebrities than one can shake a stick at, Peter Parker. You don’t get intimidated.”

“Well, there’s an exception to every rule.”

“Just be safe, Peter.” May sighed finally, a fond smile on her face as she stroked briefly over her nephew’s shoulder. “You know that’s all I want for you.”

A week later saw Peter shuffling into the lobby of Stark Industries to be met by an enthusiastic Tony Stark who smelled like coffee and engine oil, and then shown to what could only amount to an R&D candyland. 

Three months later saw Peter appearing at Stark tower regularly, with his own personal access to the research floors, his own desk and workstation. 

Six months later saw Peter with access to Tony’s personal workshop, which was also incidentally where Tony first kissed him whilst he was elbow deep in the engine of a car, and Peter felt months of untapped frustration and desire leak out of him at the soft press of lips. 

“Tony,” Peter breathed, “oh god, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

“I wanted you the minute I first saw you in that meeting.” Tony whispered against Peter’s lips, hands fisting in the young man’s brown curls. “You’re delectable.”

“Please, Tony.” Peter murmured, sliding oil-stained hands under the man’s t-shirt. “I need you, god, I want you.”

“I’m going to fuck you up against this car,” Tony assured, voice gravelly, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name, and then I’m going to fuck you some more.”

“Yes.”

[endgame-ironspider]

WAIT I HAVE A FIC ALMOST EXACTLY LIKE THIS

summary: Alternatively: thank the lord for those spider senses, huh?

In which Peter has superhumanly good hearing, Tony is fifty-going-on-fifteen, complete with his heart ‘skipping a beat’ and butterflies in his stomach and an over active case of The Hormones, and it’s generally chaotic all around. Fluff and feels only in this household.

Okay but Peter looking up confused sometimes because Tony’s heart is making weird jumps and speeding up like other hearts do when someone’s in love. But there’s no one in the room with them?

Peter is confused for a few months before finally bringing it up to Tony like „I think there might be something wrong with your heart because sometimes it sounds like you’re looking at someone you love but nobody’s there with us and I think you should go to the med bay. Because what if something’s wrong and that’s why it makes these little jumps?“ and Tony is just confused for a second, trying to process what Peter unloaded on him, before his heart does the jumpy thing again and then he just goes „Jesus kid. How are you this oblivious?“

[endgame-ironspider]

fuck.

op, pls tell me this prompt is up for grabs? (with credit, of course)

It takes until Morgan is 3 years old for shit to hit the fan. Scandal of the century they are calling it.

Morgan needed blood donated because of an accident. And Tony said that Pepper could do it since she has the same blood type as their baby.

But she doesn't. News blasted the scandal. Pepper didn't want to be pregnant, she found a surrogate and pretended to be pregnant. Tony never questioned it cause they didn't live together til after Morgan was born. She kept that secret from him. He wouldn't have cared but how she went about it broke his trust.

Now Tony is on the hunt for the omega who carried his pup.

Que

Adorable, smart, MIT student Omega Peter Parker.

He never knew who he carried for, but he needed the money for school and whoever had his contract paided a hefty sun.

Now almost 4 years later Peter gets a knock at the door.

[endgame-ironspider]

Tamed

Reposting this *finally* after it’s sudden and inexplicable disappearance off my blog :(

Read here on AO3

About this: same age Starker, high school AU. Bad boy Tony and goody two shoes Peter. Features: breathplay, daddy kink, smoking, mentions of drugs and alcohol, violence (not between Tony and Peter), and a homophobic slur. 8.9k.

-

MJ stops talking in the middle of her sentence. 

Ned, who has been dozing by her side for the last ten minutes of their lunch break, notices the silence and perks up, blinking sleepily. 

“What is it?” Peter asks. 

“Tony Stark,” she says. “He’s looking at us.” 

All the breath gets sucked from Peter’s lungs. Suddenly his heart pounds. Is this what a heart attack feels like? He might be having a heart attack. The nurse who occupies a tiny room beside the counselor’s office isn’t going to be able to handle this cardiac episode. “What kind of look?” Peter asks. “Assess his look MJ. Does it say, ‘I want to pound your guts’? Wait, should I look? No—you should stop looking—” 

“It’s a look Peter,” she says. “See for yourself.” 

Anxiety wars with curiosity. Somehow, curiosity wins, and Peter (be cool, Pete, be cool and casual) glances over his shoulder. There’s nothing casual about the expression on Tony’s face. It’s apathetic, that’s true, but it is fixed and unflinching even as Peter’s entire lunch table stares back at him across the grassy quad. Around him are his friends—other seniors who have reputations for delinquency—and they laugh and joke raucously but Tony isn’t joining them at all. At the edge of his lips, a cigarette rests. 

Peter swallows. Smoking on school grounds is forbidden. 

MJ throws up both of her hands, mouthing What? She’s the only one with the balls to do that. Peter’s never heard of Tony Stark hitting a woman, but the true depths of the older senior’s depravity are unknown. Unfortunately. 

Tony takes his cigarette out of his mouth and points with it. 

“Oh my god,” Peter says. 

MJ points at herself. Tony shakes his head, points again. MJ points to Ned. Tony’s eyes roll noticeably even from this distance. He points one last time. “He wants you, Petey,” MJ mutters. 

Peter turns to her, glad Tony can’t see the expression on his face. He hopes it’s terrified—because terror is explicable at least. But god forbid the other boy see the pounding of Peter’s heart in his throat, the way his palms have started sweating, the nervous-anxious-excited energy that makes his stomach feel like it’s twisting inside out. “What does he want with me?” 

“Maybe he wants to pound you,” she says flatly. 

Keep reading

[endgame-ironspider]

Peter and Tony have a date planned, and sure Peter was at least 15 minutes early, but Tony is already 10 minutes late. And Peter knows that Tony’s late most of the time, and he knows that he doesn’t really have to worry until he’s at least 45 minutes late, but it feels really awkward. Sitting here, getting looks from other costumers and the waitresses, assuring them that his date „is gonna be here any minute“ and getting pitying looks in return. It makes him feel fidgety and so, so awkward. He feels like everybody is staring.

As soon as Tony rushes into the restaurant, sweeping Peter up in a kiss and apologizing breathlessly, they have other reasons to stare of course

[endgame-ironspider]

Don’t Buy Dildos Where You Buy Your Socks

Rating: Mature Warnings: N/A Tags: Crack | Unestablished relationship | Dialogue heavy | Sex Toys | Birthdays | Ambiguous canon. Tony sees something he shouldn’t when pestering Peter about his birthday present and it might just lead to the best present of all.

The kid was infuriating to buy for, verging on impossible. In the weeks leading up to his birthday Tony’s blood pressure rose exponentially and any attempts to garner even the smallest request for a present was met with ditherings of oh gosh, Mr. Stark, I don’t need anything and you really don’t have to, Mr. Stark!

“Kid, come on. You’ve gotta work with me here,” Tony complained, almost hanging upside down off the arm of the couch, rubbing at his temples. “You’ve gotta give me something. Anything. And so help me god if you say one of those stupid bobble-head figures or a new school notebook I’m actually going to beat you to death with the Mark L.”

“Funko-Pops,” Peter muttered, cheeks blazing pink. He was silent for several long moments. “Well,” he began hesitantly. “There is one thing…”

“Sweet shit!” Tony barked, throwing his arms up in the air and sitting upright. “Finally! C’mon, spit it out, kid. I don’t care if its the Queen of England’s crown, lay it on Daddy.”

The term slipped out, force of habit from too much time around the bots and too many self-deprecating Daddy Warbucks jokes, and while Tony ignored it Peter squirmed on his seat, spluttering for a moment.

“Its just a jacket,” the kid defended, pulling out his phone. “Why would I want the Queen’s crown, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Room decoration? Pawn it off for a Game Boy? This is the first time in four years you’ve ever asked me for anything, kid. I don’t know what goes on in that little pea-brain of yours.”

“This pea-brain just got into MIT,” Peter grumbled but he was smiling as he shuffled across the couch, tilting his phone towards Tony.

Keep reading

[endgame-ironspider]

scoop does it again huh?

poolside kisses

I’m so happy to gift @monster-cock69 with a fic for the @starkerfestivals Spring Fever event! I hope you enjoy <3

Prompt: “He’s just a kid.” “Does that look like a kid to you?” 

also on ao3

-

The pardoning of the Rogue Avengers could not have come at a worse time. 

Tony knew that they needed a united front to be ready for any future attacks. He was all too aware. He just wished that they’d returned after he managed to get his man. He didn’t need anyone or anything getting in the way of his wooing. 

With all of the Avengers under one roof once more, the only time Tony could get dibs on Peter was during their one-on-one sessions in the lab. Everywhere else they went was teeming with superheroes or employees, and Tony was sick of it. He missed having Peter to himself. 

Keep reading

[endgame-ironspider]

ahhhhhhhhh!!!!

Sunflower Blessings

Summary: Sunflower fairy Peter is different from the other fairies in a lot of ways. He was born from an unusual flower, at the height of summer, and like all sunflowers, he only has eyes for Sun God Stark. Unfortunately, he draws the attention of the capricious Wind God Beck, who makes his life difficult.

Read on AO3

Tags: Fairies and Gods Au, Sunflower Fairy Peter, Sun God Tony Stark, Fluff, For Pro

Thanks to @the-mad-starker for your help betaing and I hope you like it @endgame-ironspider

Peter is an oddball for a fairy in more ways than one. He was born from a sunflower at the height of summer instead of from the more delicate flowers in the spring. He was also unfailingly curious, always wanting to know why and how instead of just tending his flowers per tradition. But the oddest thing about Peter was his devotion to the sun. Being a sunflower fairy, Peter personally thought it made sense, but the others never understood how he could worship the sun god Stark with such fervor while only paying minor attention to the earth or water gods that provided them succor, or the wind god who’s fickle nature played havoc with their meadows.

Regardless of their speculation and commentary, Peter rose every morning to perform a salutation to the sun, wishing the god a joyful day before going to tend his meadow. Peter’s home was farthest up the mountain compared to his fellow fairies, away from the taller trees that so often blocked the sun. It could be a bit lonely, but it was better than never getting to feel the sun’s rays on his face or dealing with half the fairies swooning over the mischievous water god Loki or the arrogant wind god Beck. At least the earth god Fury was a solid reliable source, if a bit too serious.

Not that Stark was perfect either if Peter was honest. The sun god rarely showed his face where Peter could see him, not bothering to burn away Beck's clouds most days. Peter had only seen the god himself twice, and both had left an impression. He was handsome and strong, able to burn away all that stood in his path, which made him dangerous. But Peter had seen his softer side when the god had greeted his sister the moon goddess Pepper, and when he had played with the sun dogs that spread the rays throughout the sky.

Peter wished that some day the god would take note of his devotion and grant him and his meadow a bit more of his attention. Peter had sunflowers he wished to see bloom after all, seedlings grown from the one that had birthed him, and they could only grow strong if the sun shone upon them. It would be nice to not be the only sunflower fairy in their clan.

“One day,” he whispered to his heart flowers as he gently strengthened them with his blessings. “One day, you’ll get his blessing and you’ll grow so tall and strong, it will be like a forest instead of a meadow.”

************************

Seasons passed and Peter didn't lose hope so much as resign himself to being the only sunflower fairy. New fairies could only be born from flowers that were blessed by at least one god after all, and Peter never tried to gain the others' favor. He was a sunflower fairy, thus only Stark's blessing would do, and if the god did not see fit to grant his wishes, then it was not Peter's place to argue.

“What do you guys think?” He asked his heart flowers one day, lying among the nasturtiums and marigolds that carpeted the field. It was a rare day where the sun broke through, and all of them had turned to face the sun. “Am I crazy?”

They couldn’t talk but Peter would swear he could hear their murmuring and laughter like a faraway conversation you could just barely hear carried by the wind. He got the feeling he was being laughed at, and he smiled.

“You’re right. We’re sunflowers. Of course we’d only seek the sun,” Peter said. “I just wish he’d spend a little more time with us. His rays always feel so good but it’s not enough for you to grow properly.”

The murmuring returns, this time a little sadder.

“I know. And I promise to replant you every year, just as I always have,” Peter said, tears filling his eyes. Most fairies could keep their heart flowers alive year round, but Peter was still young, and without the blessing of a god, he didn’t have the power to sustain them. Instead, his heart flowers would go to seed each year and he would replant them with the seasons, continuing the bloodline of the flower that birthed him. It was the way of the natural world though, so Peter couldn’t complain. Even if it meant the winter months got extra lonely sometimes.

******************

One quiet summer night though, as he gazed at the full moon, Peter whispered a quiet prayer to the moon goddess. He knew it was a long shot. She was a busy goddess and fairies typically did not fall under her domain, but maybe, just maybe, she would be willing to put a good word in with her brother. Maybe he would grant Peter the strength to keep them alive this year.

When still the sun hid behind the clouds and fall started closing in, Peter sighed sadly but continued his devotionals, basking in the little sun that broke through, and tending his sad looking sunflowers. He tried to cheer them up, but they were too closely tied to him, and his sorrow caused them to droop.

“I’m sorry, my friends,” he told them, gently petting their leaves. “Next year will be better though. I’ll work harder and we’ll have the grandest meadow.”

*********************

Each day, the sun rose and set and each day, Peter tracked Stark's journey across the sky. It wasn't as happy an existence as some of the other fairies had, but Peter made do as best as he could until one day he drew the attention of the god Beck. Peter disliked the god, as he was careless with his powers and often ruined meadows as often as his breezes tended them. The few times a fairy had said something, Beck claimed it all an accident, but those same fairies all suffered damaged meadows during the stormy season. Peter couldn't prove anything, but it seemed pretty damning when none of Beck's devotees had such issues despite having meadows near the others. Thus Peter was determined to not get involved with the capricious god.

Only the god had decided that would not do.

"Come now, little fairy, why do you ignore me in your devotions?" Beck asked one fall day as Peter tended his meadow.

"I am a sunflower fairy, sir. Like the flower I am born from, my face will always look towards the sun," Peter replied as he continued to work.

"Your sun hardly shines even here at the top of the mountain," Beck said.

"My meadow gets enough," Peter replied, still refusing to fully acknowledge the god.

"I could fix it, you know," Beck said, the arrogance in his voice grating on Peter's nerves. "It would be a simple thing to blow away the clouds for the light to shine down."

Peter didn't respond at first. Sure, the extra light would do his meadow good, but it wasn't just the rays he wanted to bask in. He wanted Stark's blessing.

"I appreciate the offer, sir, but my devotion is to the sun god, as a sunflower fairy should be," Peter said firmly.

"Have it your way, little fairy," Beck said with a scowl. "But don't come begging to me when your precious flowers don't get what they need."

Peter swallowed hard but didn't say anything as the god left. He'd weathered storms before, he could do it again. But just in case, he made sure to pull extra seeds from his heart flowers, protecting them by buying them deep at a hidden spot near the edge of his field. Then he set about trying to lay as many protections around the small meadow as he could.

*****************

The rest of fall passed quietly, and Peter thought maybe the wind god had forgotten him, though he continued to build up his protections for his field against the coming winter storms.

When winter hit, he realized he had been wrong. Beck had not forgotten him. Rather, the god had been saving up his ire and vengeance, unleashing storm after storm with Peter's meadow directly in his path.

Peter was forced to retreat into the forest, unable to even try to endure with his poor plants. As he fled, he whispered soft farewells, caressing their leaves and petals one last time. Then he hid, tucked away with a wood sprite named Ned for the winter, venturing out again only when spring had come and the storms were truly gone.

The devastation to his home and his heart flowers nearly broke him. Peter fell to the dirt and simply cried, unable to even appreciate the brilliant warm sun that shone down in his meadow that day.

He was so distraught he didn't even notice when another joined him in the meadow.

"Gotta say when Pepper said I needed to come meet the fairy here, I wasn't expecting to be on emotional comfort duty," a voice said dryly. "I'm afraid it's not my strong suit."

Peter's head whipped up in disbelief, eyes going wide at the sight of Stark standing before him. For a brief moment, Peter's heart leapt because his message had gotten through and his god was here. The elation crumbled to shame just as quickly as Peter took in his ruined meadow.

"I'm sorry, sire," Peter whispered, eyes firmly back on the ground, unable to face his god like this. "My offerings to you were destroyed."

"Offerings?" Stark asked curiously.

"I'm a sunflower fairy, and I was trying to grow more in my meadow as offerings to you," Peter explained. "Bu- but they were destroyed. My heart plants were destroyed."

Peter couldn't stop the sobs that shook his body as he knelt in the barren plot. If only his message had gotten through sooner, or if hadn't drawn the attention of Beck, then he could have finally asked for Stark's blessing. Could have finally not been the only one.

"What happened to them, little one?" Stark asked. Peter hesitated briefly before he decided he could hardly look more foolish at this point. So he told Stark about his meadow and how it never got quite enough sun and how Beck had offered to fix things.

"When winter came, my meadow didn't stand a chance," Peter said quietly. "I tried, I really did, sire, but there were too many storms."

"This wasn't your fault, little one," Stark said gently, putting a finger under Peter's chin and forcing him to look up. "Devotion cannot be forced or it is false and worth nothing. Your devotion is a pure gift that he was jealous of and I'm sorry I did not make time to come sooner. But I will make time now, little one. Replant your heart seeds, and I will make sure your sunflowers reach the very skies."

"But what about Beck, sire?" Peter couldn't help but ask nervously. However, Stark just smiled and laid a kiss on Peter's head in benediction.

"I will take care of him, my little one."

Stark disappeared in a flash of brilliant light, and Peter wondered if he had imagined the whole thing, however, he did what Stark said. He dug up his seeds and diligently replanted them.

Later, as he was gathering water for his troughs, he caught sight of his reflection. Where Stark had placed his blessing, his hair was no longer nut brown, but was instead a sunkissed gold. Peter stared in shock for a few minutes before gathering himself and getting back to work with more enthusiasm. The other fairies could say what they would when they saw the mark, but Peter was a sunflower fairy, and he belonged to Stark.

Epilogue

Peter didn't see Stark again all Spring or the beginning of summer but he saw proof of his presence and proof the god was keeping his promise. The earth under his meadow was the most fertile it had ever been and in a true act of god- specifically the earth god- Peter's meadow had even been given natural protections against the winds and storms. Windbreaks and ledges that hadn't been there before now sheltered his heart flowers without blocking their sun.

Water also bubbled up naturally in a nearby spring that Peter knew had never existed before. He encased it in stone, creating a shallow pool to draw water from as he needed. Given their gifts, Peter made sure to leave thank yous for Fury and Loki, though he had a feeling Stark had called in a favor for such a large gift to be given to such a young and obscure fairy like him.

The best part, though, was the extra sun. Stark burned the clouds away every day, showering Peter's meadow in warm sunlight. Peter felt like a cat with how much he curled up in the warm rays, basking in his god's second hand presence.

His flowers murmured happily in the back of his mind, their faces always turned towards the sun as they grew taller and taller. For once, his flowers grew taller than him, and Peter couldn’t help telling them again and again how proud he was of them. How beautiful they were.

********************

As summer was nearing its height, Stark came to visit again. This time, Peter was proud to show off his meadow and sunflowers that reached as tall as 5 year trees.

"It's beautiful, little one," Stark said, admiring the tallest flowers.

"Peter. My name is Peter, and if I've pleased you with my offerings, perhaps you'd leave your blessings on my heart flowers as well," Peter said, his heart beating out of his chest. "So that there might be more sunflower fairies."

"Peter, huh," Tony said, giving the fairy a brilliant smile. "It would be my pleasure. Let's start with just two though. I hear you were quite the handful as a budling and I doubt anyone else will know how to handle a sunflower fairy quite so well as you."

Peter flushed but still smiled brightly back, making Tony chuckle. The fairy watched with bated breath as Tony approached the biggest of his heart flowers and placed a gentle kiss on the first.

"Take good care of him for me, little bud. He needs a good, strong friend that will understand him," Tony whispered before moving to the next.

"Bring him joy and sun when the clouds cover my rays. Like a piece of the sun itself, shine brilliantly and never be dimmed," Tony charged the second.

Then he stepped back and turned to Peter again.

"I will come visit in the spring, my Peter. I look forward to meeting the budlings then," Tony said. He cupped Peter's face gently and placed another kiss on the fairy's hair. It was tempting to leave a second mark but Pepper had scolded him enough about the first, so he behaved.

Then he lifted Peter's face until their noses touched.

"Be well, my little sun, and be happy until I see you again."

Peter flushed a bright red, looking nearly sunburnt, which Tony supposed was rather fitting. As he was about to pull back and leave, his little fairy surprised him with a soft kiss of his own.

"My face will always be turned towards you. Be happy and well, sire," Peter said.

"Tony, you can call me Tony," he said in response. Then he stole one last kiss before slipping away on the nearest ray of sun.

[endgame-ironspider]

oh my god starkly this is perfect??? how did each panel end up getting consistently better!?! also the last one where tony has the kid in his arms like ‘plop’ is so precious omg 🥺🥺

@starker-sorbet for the @starkerfestivals Spring Fever Exchange!

The prompt was "New parents Tony and Peter going on a date, with Avengers babysitting the kid. Maybe come home to chaos."

[endgame-ironspider]

oh my god please….i am begging on my knees 🙏🙏🙏

Peter and Tony doing one of these house tour interviews. They’re showing the interviewers their house and talk about their daily routine and everywhere in the house are just so many tiny things that speak of an absolute intimacy and trust between them

[endgame-ironspider]

so, so massively proud of u for getting through this, nika 💜💜 ur precious and i’m so glad the server got us in the same place lol (don’t worry about the 4am explosions, they’re part of the ~charm)

And that closes the book on the single most hellish year I have ever had.

[endgame-ironspider]

Okay how would u feel about tony having a feminization kink and calling peter his “Baby girl” and uses femme words for his genitalia so instead of “cock” he says “pussy” or “clit”

((this ties in with a headcanon stuck in my head all day so I added it in, hope u don’t mind?))

Okay, so Peter sounds like a girl in bed and you can’t convince me otherwise; there’s no doubt about it. We all know how his prepubescent voice sounds, so adorably squeaky and rising in pitch whenever he gets excited, especially with the voice cracks at the end of practically every sentence of his– but nothing compares to how the boy sounds like when he’s on the cusp of orgasm.

And that’s the thing; nobody knows about… that. Peter’s extremely embarrassed about this particular feature about him, so he tries his his hardest to make sure no one ever finds out; and that includes Tony. Hiding his girly moans and whimpers when he’s riding the older man while calloused engineer-hands wrap around his leaking cock is certainly no easy feat, and the dark filthy words Tony mutters to him while doing so definitely doesn’t help either. Sometimes Peter can’t help it– a soft whine or high pitched gasp will fall from his parted lips, punched out of his chest at a particularly well aimed thrust at the sensitive bundle of nerves in him from the bulbous head of Tony’s cock, but he’ll cut himself off abruptly, biting down at his bottom lip so harshly he tastes coppery blood, chest quivering with the immense effort it takes to stifle the noises swelling within him and threatening to spill out. Instead Peter will just squeeze his eyes shut, fingers clenching so hard as he drags them down across Tony’s back; focusing solely on suppressing a scream. Because what will Tony think, when he hears how Peter really sounds like in bed? High pitched like a little girl’s, breathy cries like those women in a cheap porno. He’s afraid the older man to tease him about it, or worse judge him; so most of the time he’s quiet save for the little moans here and there, and Tony just thinks that his baby boy is just not a vocal person during sex.

That is, until one day when Tony arrives home late at night from a business trip overseas, the tower still with silence as he walks to his room– and then when he’s metres away from the door he hears an indistinct sound, the telltale squeaking of a mattress; and then a gasping moan that can only be described as girly. For several long moments Tony honest to god thinks that an intruder had broken into his penthouse, because judging from the noises emanating from his bedroom there can be no other possible scenario other than some strange lady being fucked within an inch of her life in there– all high pitched squeals only rising in fervour with every passing second. Steeling himself, Tony readies a finger over the activating button on his gauntlet as he strides toward the half-ajar door, guard up and ready for a fight–

So imagine his complete surprise when he swings open the door to take in the scene in his room: his young lover in bed, completely bare with miles of porcelain skin exposed, coltish legs high in the air and a hand in between his thighs as he fingers himself senseless. Peter’s little chest is trembling, heaving with exertion as he jerks his hard pink cock in his other hand, head thrown back in pleasure and the pale column of his neck tantalizingly arched; utterly unaware of Tony’s sudden presence in the room.

Until the older man slides closer, gears in his head whirring as he listens to the delightful wails from the teen, high and desperate and definitely new to him, struggling to keep his strides steady instead of just pouncing on the feast laid out right in front of him. By the time he reaches the edge of his bed he’s already fattening in his slacks, so unbelievably turned on as he watches those skinny fingers slide sloppily in and out, the wet sounds from it mixing with the noises from Peter himself into something indecent. His voice comes out so husky and gravelly he surprises even himself as he leans down towards Peter’s sweat-slicked shoulder, purring “what do we have here, baby? Have you been depriving daddy of these pretty sounds all this time?” and the boy’s reaction would have been almost comical if he weren’t so painfully aroused at the moment, Peter nearly jumping out of his skin and tearing his hands away to slap his palm over his open mouth, glazed doe eyes wide with shock. The look on his face is one of clear mortification, cheeks flushing a rosy red as he frantically tries to defend himself; denying that the sounds weren’t from him but Tony cuts the rambling off by kissing Peter roughly, slamming their mouths together viciously, nipping on a swollen bottom lip to demand entry into the wet confines of the boy’s mouth, tongue-fucking him rough and passionate. Peter goes lax beneath him, not resisting as Tony falls bodily atop him, caging him in with his buff arms on either side of his head.

“Good girls dont lie, Pete,” is all the older man whispers hotly in his ear; is all the warning he gets before his daddy is fucking him without abandon, wild and animalistic. lt’s the roughest sex they’ve ever had, the bed rocking beneath their joined bodies as Tony flips him over, shoving his face into the mattress and forcing his ass high up in the air as he slides his rock hard cock into him, so thick and long that Peter hiccups with the fullness of it all. Tony loses all control, grabbing his wrists with one hand to twist them behind his back, the other one reaching out to grip at the boy’s messy mussled hair, gathering a fistful of curls before yanking his head back until his chest is taut with a barely suppressed scream. “Don’t you fucking dare keep those moans from me, baby girl… let it all out, let daddy hear you properly,” Tony snarls, punctuating his command with a brutal thrust into that tight little hole around him.

And Peter loses it, screaming at the top of his lungs and finally, finally letting go. He wails, whimpers high and needy, crying out as Tony sinks impossibly deeper into him again and again, the vicious snaps of his daddy’s hips rocking him forward up the bed. He begs shamelessly, voice lilting high; looses himself in the overwhelming pleasure instead of focusing on keeping all his noises in as he did before– feeling utterly, hopelessly claimed by the older man above him. By now Tony’s is almost delirious off the beautiful sounds from Peter, so pretty and desperate, drinking in the mewls he gets in response to his dark utterings of “such a sweet little girl for me” and “feel so good around my cock, your tight pussy is made just for me, isn’t it princess?”

Peter comes while sobbing, breathless and quivering with exertion as he squeals “all yours daddy, only yours-!”

[endgame-ironspider]

trying - to be more active on tumblr by posting a fic i speed-wrote in discord & then cleaned up later. full credit to @starkerhowlter for the amazing prompt 💜

summary- tony and peter are in a relationship, but the others don’t know. one day, peter slaps tony’s ass playfully with a hand covered in paint and the bright pink handprint on his chinos is what forces their reveal.

You can also read this on AO3!

Tony walks into the kitchen, humming a slightly off tone version of ‘Toxic’ under his breath. He hadn't initially wanted to listen to Britney Spears in his lab--it threw the whole vibe off--but Peter wouldn’t listen, even going so far as to rope FRIDAY, the traitor, into playing his playlist. The end result being Tony having songs stuck in his mind against his will. The other day, to his eternal horror, he was mumbling One Direction’s ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ and it was only his good fortune that prevented anyone, especially Peter, from being around him. He would’ve never heard the end of it otherwise. All alleged footage was immediately wiped, of course.

He nods in greeting to the various occupants of the Tower who were gathered around. Natasha was sitting on the counter with her legs pulled up to her chest while Barnes was rummaging through the fridge. The others--Steve, Rhodey, Sam--were sitting around the island, talking about something related to the military. He had no interest taking part in that conversation. He’s still a bit, maybe 35%, persona non grata with those people.

Instead, Tony makes a beeline straight for the coffee machine, needing a cup in his hands like, yesterday. It’s as he’s got his hand outstretched to grab his favorite mug--red and blue like another favorite something--that he hears a voice from behind him.

“Tony….”

”Yes, Freezer Burn?” He grabs the mug, pours himself some fresh brew, and turns around to face the island.

Steve ignores the name. “What’s that on your, uh, your-” He points a finger in the general direction of Tony’s chinos.

“It’s the 21st century, you can say ass, Steve,” Sam snarks.

Tony’s brows raise in surprise that he hides behind a large gulp. “What’s that on my what?”

“There’s, um, a handprint? Like, a bright pink one.” Steve’s cheeks are slightly flushed, and his eyes are darting everywhere except Tony. Who apparently has something on his derriere.

H can feel his brows raise higher and was that-

Yep. There was a slight flush rising Tony’s neck. Damn. He curses his body while someone--Natasha?--mutters “Must’ve been some hand to make the great Tony Stark blush.”

“It’s not like that! That’s- that was Dum-E. He recently discovered finger painting, Terrible Twos and all, you understand,” he tries to wave the topic away with a wave of his hand, but of course, the hounds had scented blood. They weren’t letting it go now.

“Terrible Twos,” Rhodey scoffs. “Two decades maybe. I was there when you built that thing, Tones, and besides, it’s a handprint, not a claw mark. So ‘fess up.”

Tony’s eyes darted between the assembled Avengers and the exit but just as he was contemplating the best form of distraction so he could dart away, the worst thing that could’ve happened happens.

Peter walks in.

Well, Tony amends mentally, Peter walking in isn’t the worst thing to happen. Tony's happy to see him at any given point of time, the sight of Peter’s bright smile, fluffy curls and that ridiculous bounce in his step was enough to shave a decade off his age with how light it made him feel. Even now, knowing what lay in wait for them, he could feel the way his face had softened into one of those helplessly fond smiles Peter liked to make fun of.

No, what was bad was the incriminating hot pink palms he was scrubbing at, head down and oblivious to the reactions his entrance had triggered. Sam’s brows had shot up into his hair, Rhodey had his patented ‘Tony No’ look (the one that consistently made Tony do the exact opposite, it was important to note), Steve, who hadn’t made the connection yet, was oblivious as ever - Did spankings even exist in his time? - and Natasha was silently sliding over a twenty to a triumphant Bucky. Tony's mouth falls open a little at that. Damn spies.

“God, I forgot how tedious working with acrylics was,” Peter comments while still not looking up. Tony has half a mind to take his arm and march him right back out of the room. He would’ve too, if he wasn’t living in the same building as this sorry lot that double up as spies and/or exceptionally nosy. He quickly runs the numbers in his head and the result - expected but still unwelcome - makes him sigh. There was no running away from this.

So he leans back against the kitchen counter, crosses his arms across his chest and sorely wishes he had his sunglasses on, waiting for the first person to break.

To his endless amusement, it’s Steve.

“Peter?”

“Hm?”

“Funny thing, did you know the paint on your hands is the same…color…as…” And there it was. The slow descent of realisation as Steve trails off, head bouncing rapidly between Peter's hands and Tony's backside. He was a little impressed, to be honest. He didn’t realise Cap had it in him to stare so intensely at another man’s…assets.

“Same color as?” That’s when Peter looks up, finally, and sees the myriad of expressions lining everyone’s faces. Brows furrowed in confusion, he follows Steve's gaze right to the back of Tony's light brown chinos. (God, he knew those was a bad idea. There was a reason he hadn’t worn these godforsaken things in over a decade and it was because the last time he did, the events of the evening were so thoroughly documented they still followed him around like an annoying ghost. Talk shows hosts loved bringing up 2004 for a reason.)

Peter’s eyes widen, stuck on Tony’s lower half. In any other scenario, he would’ve been very happy at this turn of events but well, he might not have seen exactly what the others had but he knew very well what it would look like. After all, Tony vividly remembered the events that led to this moment.

x

Peter was working on his painting in the sun room, some combination of acrylics and flowers and glitter that he wasn’t allowed to see until it was fully complete. Tony had thus been banished to the lab until that happened. An hour in, however, he had grown antsy- he didn’t do too well with instructions, after all - and had wandered down to see Peter, maybe sneak in a little something. As he’d entered the room, though, something on the low shelf to his left caught his eye and he turned around to see what it was, forgetting to call out for Peter in his haste.

Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a mini Iron Man model, freshly sculpted, left to dry and he was too busy imagining Peter's lean fingers, deftly manipulating clay to form this little guy to notice the man himself sneaking up on him until it was too late.

It was the loud smack - and feel - of a palm against his accidentally-pushed-out ass (he was leaning forward, okay? It was inevitable) that brought him out of his daydream with a start. He whirled around, ready to summon his gauntlet on whoever had the audacity until he saw the mischievous smile on Peter's face.

“You-” he spluttered.

“Me,” Peter agreed happily before stepping forward to close the gap between them with a sweet kiss that Tony melted into. ‘You looked so- so cute, I couldn’t resist.”

“Cute?” Tony’s mouth fell open. He wasn’t cute. He was Iron Man--destroyer of supervillains and terrifying all around.

“Yep,” Peter smirked and kissed his protests away. It was only FRIDAY’s announcement that dinner was ready that broke them apart.

“I've got to get this cleaned up first,” Peter said, pointing to his workspace with a hooked thumb. Tony looked over his shoulder to see open boxes spread out on the table, and a paint board with drying colors on it. “Save me a plate?”

“Of course, I will. Can’t have our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man starving,” he said with a wink and with one final kiss, Tony slipped out of the room.

Neither of them noticed the wet paint on Peter’s hands.

x

Which brings them to now.

Tony, affecting nonchalance and Peter, steadily turning red. Although, if Tony knew him - and he did, there was no doubt about that - then it was less to do with their unexpected reveal and more to do with, quite literally, being caught red (pink?) handed. Funny, he still had some shame that Tony hadn’t gotten rid of yet.

“You- he- when- wha-” Steve stutters, eyes wide as saucers and that, more than anything, soothes Tony's frayed nerves. Because Cap's conservative sensibilities were familiar ground.

“We use complete sentences in this household, Steve-o,” Tony smirks. Steve straightens up, back straight and voice stern. Ah. Steve Rogers is out and Captain America is in.

“Tony. What is the meaning of this?”

The rest of their teammates perk up, wisely staying away but not far enough to miss the drama. Bunch of vultures, the lot of them, Tony thinks fondly.

“The meaning of what, Steve?” he asks, blinking innocently.

“You know what I mean,”

“I’m sure I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out for me?” Tony challenges with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Why was Peter's hand on your- on your body?”

”Oh my god,’ Peter mutters from the side. “I never thought this would be how we get caught.”

“And to think it was you!’ Tony crows triumphantly, pointing a finger towards him. “Take that, FRIDAY!’ He points a finger at her nearest camera. If she thinks he’d forgotten how easily she took Peter's side the one time they’d discussed going public, she had another thing coming. Both of them were convinced it would be Tony doing something that would give them away but this was a twist neither had seen coming and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

“I- no one could have seen this coming, Tony!’ Peter argues. “It’s so stupid.”

“Which is what makes it so much better.”

“Okay, no, wait a second,” Steve cuts in again. Truly, patience personified, that man. “What is going on here?”

Peter sighs, half rolling his eyes in frustration. “I’d have thought it was obvious, Cap. Tony and I are dating. Hence, the-” He waves his hand in the general direction of Tony's lower half.

The confirmation, to no one’s surprise, doesn’t actually take the wind out of Steve's sails. If anything, it only fires him up some more.

“But you’re- you’re so young, practically a child! Tony’s…he’s—”

“Capsicle, please tell me that you, of all people, are not about to call me old right now,’ Tony warns. This entire debacle was amusing, much more than if they’d come out the normal way, but he was not willing to put up with any slights, and definitely not from the frozen relic of all people.

“That's not the same thing!” Steve slams his hand down on the counter, and Tony's flinch is what spurs Peter into protective action. He steps in front of the man, arms crossed.

“I'm not in the mood for moral judgement from a man that had to trick his way into the army,’ he says, coldly. “I’m sure you understand.” The others, who were used to the happy-go-lucky Peter and never so much as seen him annoyed, were startled by the sudden change. But Tony wasn't. He'd seen, firsthand, how protective Peter was when it came to his loved ones. It was beyond his unending privilege that he was now part of that list.

“Besides,” Rhodey steps in when the silence stretches a little too long, clearly trying to diffuse the tension, “Peter can throw a bus with his bare hands, Steve. You really think he can be forced into anything?”

Steve clearly disagreed because Tony could see his mouth opening, no doubt another rebuttal, something something age and power and reputation. Before he could, though, Peter - who was clearly done with the conversation - clapped a hand on his shoulder. Tony winced slightly at the loud sound, wondering how much that must’ve hurt.

“Besides, Steve,” Peter says slyly, “Look at that ass and tell me you wouldn’t if you had half the chance.”

The blush on Tony's neck deepened and Sam bursts out in laughter, effectively cutting through the tense moment. Steve looks at Peter, the ‘You really wanna try me?’ look on his face, then over at Tony who was standing loose limbed and extremely unconcerned before sighing in defeat. This was not a fight he’d win.

Peter pats Steve's shoulder with a triumphant smile before walking over to Tony, and immediately aiming a light smack on the exact same place as before.

“At least we don’t have to hide it now,” he winks.

“No, please do,” Rhodey leans forward- tony no- a note of desperation in his voice. “None of us want to see this.”

Tony’s answering laughter is swallowed by Peter's lips descending on him. Distantly, he thinks--someone else doing what Rhodey expressly said not to—he didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky.

[endgame-ironspider]

Cock drunk tony prompt please

One cock drunk Tony to try and break my writer’s block coming up!

—————————————————————————

Peter has never seen Tony like this before.

It’s fascinating.

He has his head tilted back into Peter’s hand, eyes hooded and mouth open, the head of Peter’s cock still resting on the tongue Tony has laid against his lower lip. There’s a small tear in the corner of Tony’s left eye, and down the side of the right there is a damp trail, a small reminder of how his eyes had just been brimming with tears moments before. He’s panting, and yet while he could push Peter away with his grip on the younger man’s thighs, he doesn’t. He’s still waiting for Peter to slide his cock back into his mouth.

“Such a good boy,” Peter breathes, and shifts his foot to press his toes up against the neglected bulge in Tony’s underwear. Tony immediately shivers and lets out a choked sound – but still he keeps his mouth open and waiting.

Peter’s heart surges with a possessive kind of pride.

“Do you want more, baby?” he asks sweetly.

Tony nods his head as much as he can, as eagerly as he can, with Peter’s fingers still twisted roughly into his hair. His tongue poked out a little farther, as if he’s trying to coax Peter’s cock into his mouth again, right where he wants it.

Peter would be lying if he said he doesn’t want the exact same thing.

He’s recently found out just how wonderfully Tony reacts to having his throat fucked, gently first, but with increasing roughness and firmness and speed.

Peter loves the way Tony drools around him, the way his eyes go glassy moments before he shuts them, and how his tears roll down the side of his face as he throat constricts helplessly around what’s pushing deeper and farther than anything or anyone else ever has.

“Open wide, big boy,” Peter breathes, and watches in awe how his cock disappears down Tony’s throat again, until the older man’s body convulses with a sharp gag.

Peter would be deterred by that.

He would be, if he didn’t know just how much Tony is enjoying it.

And if the growing damp spot on Tony’s underwear is anything to go by, or the delirious look on his face, he’s enjoying it, alright.

He’s always been such a good boy.

[endgame-ironspider]

edits for @sluttystarker’s fucking fabulous porn star au (pts. one, two, three) psa the quiz is real and you can take it right here!