#creature tony stark

[pandagirl45]

Bucky seeing Tony being partial eldritch horror then going "Oh good God damn, I'm harder than diamond."

Tony fearing he is going to he outed by bucky because he saw him. Also the little weirdo saw him and his mom but didn't lose his mind. (Hint bucky mind is already messy). Tony freaking out about the government and magical government finding him out and coming for his ass.

Tony and Bucky unintentionally start dating. Tony momma says "you found a life partner now let him breed you."

Tony horrified and even more confused. He just found out he was a little different person age 8 when he got slimy and all tentacle. Jarvis is the true MVP.

Bucky questioning if he can get Tony a bouquet of fishes drenched in mercury because tony is into that. Squids especially. Bucky didn't pay sam to let him use his boat to get the pretty space god interest.

Bucky definitely isn't having questionable thoughts about what those teeth do.

[ultravioletlightwaves]

Another battle in my ongoing personal war: love Iron Man, hate drawing armor.

[dc-tournaments]

Why do they deserve to win?

Iron Man

The Flash

[duchessonfire]

Halloween Stuckony 🎃

Happy belated Halloween! Have some Stuckony! 🎃🦇👻

Greek Nights Got Me Howlin'

“We should throw a party for Halloween!” Tony says excitedly.

We should throw YOU out for Halloween, Steve thinks bitterly

OR:

When Bucky asks if Tony can move in with them, the first thing that comes to Steve’s mind is Over my cold dead werewolf body.

Except he can’t say that, because Bucky and Tony have been dating for three months and all their other housemates have already agreed to the phoenix staying with them. On top of that, Tony’s just been cut off by his father for insulting a senator on live TV and is basically homeless, so either Steve lets him move in or Bucky moves out.

Doesn’t matter that Steve and Tony can’t stand each other, or that Tony has stolen his fraternity brother, best friend, and, incidentally, the fellow werewolf Steve has been secretly in love with since he was nine.

So instead what he says is, “Sure, that sounds fun.”

Bingosquares/Events: For the @stuckyhalloween, for the @steverogersbingo square C2 Suck & Blow Game, and for the @cabottombingo square A1 Creature: Phoenix.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark

Rating: T

Chapters: 2/2

Tags: College AU, Magical creatures AU, Werewolf AU, Phoenix AU, Werewolves Steve & Bucky, Phoenix Tony, Mutual Pining, Halloween

[tratshka]

I’m not inmune to be lured by the mermaids on my tl

[comicwaren]

From Wasp #003

Art by Kasia Nie and KJ Díaz

Written by Al Ewing

[vaguekiwi]

Hello! 3 of diamonds please! Peter is an Angel or some kind of winged creature! A wingfic! I love your work!

♦️3 of Tiles / Diamonds: “Alternate Universe — Magical Creature"

Send me a prompt!

-

Tony had been a hunter a long time.

He’d run nearly the entire gamut of the supernatural. He’d staked vampires to their beds, exorcised demons from misshapen bodies, and ripped the heart from a werewolf. He’d sold griffins to wealthy bidders, wrangled chimeras for invaluable pelts, and pinched pixies between his fingers to delicately extract their dust. He’d soared on the backs of flailing dragons, ushered unicorns into paddocks for dubious breeders, and tangled mermaids in titanium mesh, carting them off for meat or marriage or whatever-the-latest-merpeople-fad was.

Few creatures had avoided Tony in his storied career, and most of those were intentional.

Sirens, for example, were a challenge Tony wanted nothing to do with. A good hunter knew their own weaknesses, and Tony’s penchant for heavy drink and beautiful trysts was exactly the type of mind sirens most liked to prey on. Tony was no spring chicken, but he was never quite sure that he’d come out of a siren’s nest alive. So he made it a point to avoid them. Leave them to younger hearts with stronger willpower.

Phoenixes were tricky too. They were utterly beautiful — nearly as gorgeous as ever-coveted angels — with traces of red and orange and gold baked into their skin and hair and eyes.

But phoenixes were better left alone. Not because they were fearsome — in fact they were some of the most peaceful creatures in the world — but because they were, in Tony’s opinion, melodramatic. The slightest disturbance sent phoenixes fluttering to nests on rocky crags, limbs erupting into wings of flame. If they didn’t set everything around them ablaze, and if a hunter did manage to find them tucked within their aerie, phoenixes had a tendency to immediately dissolve into tears, wailing and screeching in fear, and then melt to ash. They always cursed their enemy when they did it — which Tony guessed made sense. He’d be very disgruntled if he constantly had to go through the process of hatching and growing and learning to walk and talk again with every new threat that came about.

Regardless, within a month of facing a phoenix, hunters and breeders and researchers and kings alike had a funny habit of dying under unusual circumstances.

So Tony avoided phoenixes. He’d pick up the odd feather here or there — he’d do the same for a siren — but he had no intention of facing the real thing.

There were a few other exceptions: an adolescent accident with a cyclops, a limp courtesy of a centaur’s arrow. But for the most part Tony considered himself an accomplished hunter, one of the best. He was happy to accept most offers that came his way, and he always had a referral for those he passed on. In nearly fifty years of hunting, he’d assembled a collection emperors would envy, and every day proved another exciting opportunity for adventure and laughter and exercise and cold beer.

Only one creature had ever eluded Tony’s record. But that was okay. Angels were something seen once in a lifetime, so he had no intention of wasting his opportunity when it came.

They were echelons of divinity incarnate, soaked in the purity of light and the raw strength of the sun’s heat. Free of scars, wrinkles, and blemishes; it could be hard to spot an angel, because they might look like any other person walking down the street. But their demeanour was friendlier, their eyes swam in crystalline iridescence, their skin was smooth to the touch, unharmed by age nor wind nor sun.

 To say nothing of their wings.

He’d held an angel’s feather once, marveling at a silk so soft that it healed years of cracked age in his palm. He’d breathed in clear oxygen fluttering off its wind, and felt the ache of decades shear off his shoulders.

All from a single white feather.

Everyone knew the legends were true: angels granted eternal life. Charles the Great with his captured prize and centuries of oversight of the Roman Empire was proof. But angels were exceedingly rare to encounter, let alone capture. They needed to be grounded and smuggled and chained, lest they fly off at the barest hint of opportunity.

Charlegmagne’s angel had rather infamously flung itself from a balcony only to discover that years without flying meant her wings were useless and could carry her nowhere. Her spine broke on the streets of Rome, and only a scant few angels had been captured since.

A politician in the 1700s, one of the Rockefellers who’d the world discovered to be changing his identity over the years, plus a few individuals who led long, quiet lives and kept themselves and their angels out of the spotlight.

In all his years and all his expertise, Tony had never faced an angel. That’s how he was so certain there was now one before him.

It was male, with skin bronzed from summer sun and brown eyes flickering with strands of golden sunlight, undoubtedly able to pierce through dark shrouds of night when the need arose. Its smile was bright and demure, nails filed so neatly — not unlike talons — and even the edges of its hair seemed red with sun when the dappled light struck it.

It lit up the entire boutique, the sales clerk clearly charmed speechless and unable to tell why. Across the store, an older man was glaring at them and he adjusted a gaelic knot sewed onto his  jacket — as if making it more visible would make it work better.

But the man was wrong, and that’s why it wasn’t working. The creature in the chic little store in SoHo wasn’t a fairy beguiling with spells and charms. The old magic ward was useless.

No… this was an angel. It had to be.

Tony had waited too long for it not to be.

“I am not really a fan of black,” The angel blushed, pushing the offered clothes away. The clerk nodded along and it continued, “Maybe yellow? Or light blue?”

The colours of dawn and sky.

Fitting, given the angel’s pale yellow Converse and light denim jacket. Its jeans were ripped and white, snug against a lithe, avian frame.

Tony flicked through two more band tees on the rack and then shuffled around the store, trying to get a better view of the angel’s back. The jacket was baggy, suitably so since it was trying to hide its wings. Tony imagined slipping his hand underneath the hem, twisting in the flowy white shirt and grabbing tight to the delicate feathers buried beneath. Angels were sensitive on the wings and the spine — more so where the two spaces met.

Tony certainly didn’t want to kill the poor thing, or even maim it — lest that ruin its beauty or propensity to get along with him ever after. But a little pain could be forgiven. Especially since it was bound to take a while — a decade or two — for the angel to not hate Tony anymore once it was grounded. 

But what was twenty or even a hundred years in a lifetime of millenia? Tony wouldn’t torture the poor thing; he’d take care of it, take what he needed from it, and otherwise let it be. It could watch birds from the garden, one shackle around its ankle just in case.

He licked his lips. The sales clerk hummed along and threaded more options into the angel’s hands. It was a polite little thing, thanking her for every coat hanger she passed. Its jaw was soft and when it turned its lips and eyes shimmered crimson and amber. Like fire catching.

Clarity.

Divinity.

Tony had to wrench his gaze away, the world ever dimmer without the angel in it. But he reassured himself that it wouldn’t be for long. He bought a keychain from the checkout line while he waited, musing that maybe he’d keep the key to his angel’s chains on it.

He didn’t want to cause a scene in the store, much less in Manhattan. Angels were rare enough as it was, he’d attract the attention of every hunter and dealer in the Northern Hemisphere if it was caught on camera. But possibly worse than that was the new movement in New York and San Francisco and fellow ‘blue’ cities toward creature rights.

Don’t attack them. Don’t hurt them. Don’t kill them. Don’t imprison them. Myths are people too. The foolish campaign signs and stupid slogans made Tony choke back bile. At least in other parts of the world people still saw magical creatures for what they were — fearsome, dangerous, lucrative, exploitable if not avoided out of deference for their strength. The closest Tony had ever come to believing that vitriol was in regards to a talented witch he used to trade with. She holed herself up inside, minding her own business, tending to her garden, and hawking off potions and talismans. Tony had decided she was relatively harmless, and maybe if all magical beings were like her then he’d be out of a job.

Of course, that was before he and a posse had been tipped off about the experiments in her basement.

Those memories of a new moon and burning flesh peeling off bone still made Tony’s top lip curl.

He lit a cigarette while waiting for the angel to finish shopping. He didn’t mind standing out on the sidewalk and watching the city go by. After all, if today went to plan then Tony had an untold amount of time ahead.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Tony turned, immediately tucking the cigarette into his right hand. He hadn’t expected the angel to approach him — had thought he’d need to tail it for a few hours — but that voice exhaled in a calming warmth, with all the comfort of hot chocolate and warmed honey.

“May I have one?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, not realising what the angel meant until it pointed to his hand. He dumbly held up the cigarette and spluttered,

“You want a light?”

Its formality didn’t break — too pure for something so crass as I’m asking if I can bum one.

“If it is okay, may I have one? I do not want to inconvenience you, though, sir. Apologies.”

Christ. It was adorable. It was enticing. Its smile was shy as its long eyelashes turned to the ground. It was clutching a dainty little paper bag in one hand and had started to turn away.

“Hey, of course, don’t worry about it.”

Tony produced a cigarette and his lighter. The angel’s lips closed easily around his first inhale, and Tony wondered if angels were not as pure and clean as he’d once thought. Cigarettes weren’t angelic, but there was something enthralling about the sight nonetheless.

Maybe it would spread its legs more readily than aversion to sin might imply.

“What’s your name?”

“Peter.”

Saint. Apostle. Disciple.

“I’m Tony.”

“It is nice to meet you. Thank you, Tony.”

Tony cleared his throat. The angel bobbed on its feet, a blush of colour still on its cheeks. Maybe it was always flushed like that? Always running hot in its perfection, always warmed with humility — that was a virtue, wasn’t it?

Could it cancel out Tony’s vices?

“On the hunt for anything in particular?” Tony had to clear his throat to get the question out. The angel followed his gaze down to its shopping bag — the boutique had a little save the bees logo in the corner of its bag.

“I am just looking.” Peter said, “It is a beautiful day.”

Indeed it was. Not too hot, though the angel seemed to radiate warmth. It lifted the cigarette to its lips again, as if breathing in the fire. Could it cleanse the tobacco and nicotine and tar? Leave nothing but flame and clean air and white smoke behind?

“Gonna be looking all day?” Tony tilted his head. He smiled down at the angel, “Surely a young man like you has friends to meet or appointments to keep.”

The blush traveled to its forehead and down its chest. Tony’s fingers prickled. His lips parted, but he held himself in check.

Not here. Not in the middle of the day on a crowded sidewalk.

“I do — I, umm, do not…” The angel fidgeted and twisted its head away. “I should go now, though, sir — Mr. Tony — sir…”

“At least let me take you where you’re going?” Tony suggested. He dipped his hand into his pocket for his car keys. The black Audi on the street hummed to life in a flash of blue and white light. It drew Peter’s attention. The angel’s eyebrows lifted and its lips formed a circle of wonder.

“Home?” Tony suggested, “Lunch? A friend’s place?”

Some creatures found cars fascinating. Flying was mundane to an angel, but driving? Hitting such high speeds so close to the ground? Tony almost pitied the thing for never having a human mother to warn it against such an obvious manipulation.

If he’d stopped any girl on this street and offered to drive her home? He’d be very sore between the legs and would probably need to explain himself to a cop or two.

“It is your car?” Peter breathed. It fluttered forward, lifted onto its toes with delight. As if this close to taking flight. If not for the shirt and jacket, perhaps it would. The angel circled around to the front and put its hand on the hood, a smile brightening the daylight around them as it took in the hum of the engine.

It sensed Tony’s gaze, and the blush came back with a nervous look away.

“I am sorry.” It uttered. “I must appear odd—”

“No.” Tony reassured it immediately, “It’s okay. Nice to meet someone who appreciates the finer things in life.” He tilted his head to the car again, “You wanna get in?”

He fought to keep the purr from his voice — a few young people were looking their way and whispering. He’d be damned if he let a bunch of liberal college students ruin his chance at eternal life.

“Oh, may I?” The angel nearly leapt off its feet and hurried to the passenger side door. It jumped inside the car. Tony breathed a sigh of relief and walked around to the driver’s seat.

What next? Luring the angel was one challenge. Containing it would be quite another, especially once it realised that Tony had no intention of letting it out of the car without a rope around its neck.

Peter’s fingers skimmed along the leather interior of the car. It giggled and its eyes glimmered when it looked at Tony,

“It is cold!” It gushed, and reached for the climate control.

Tony’s tongue curled when the angel blasted the heat and sighed in relief — it was July, after all. But its tiny frame and thin bone structure kept it cooler, and as long as it looked content with its fingers splayed toward the vents then Tony decided he could put up with it.

He put the car into drive and pulled into the road. Immediately ahead of them, cars were honking at each other or pedestrians — it was Manhattan — and it made the angel jump in its seat.

“You like it?” Tony glanced acros the console. Peter was still basking in the heat it had turned on, but it kept gawking at the steering wheel and glancing toward Tony’s feet on the pedals.

“It is wonderful, Tony, sir, thank you. I am — I am very grateful.” It ducked its head. Tony imagined birds hiding their faces inside their wings to sleep. A slim smile hovered along his lips.

Peter seemed to have forgotten the original invitation to go home. It didn’t direct Tony as he took a left turn and meandered west. It kept turning its head left to right, perhaps surprised they couldn’t feel the wind outside the car rushing past them. Its hand fluttered at the window controls but didn’t touch them. Tony watched closely, sweat glistening on his palms and sliding along the back of his neck. Hot as it was in the car, he wasn’t going to risk lowering the window for the little thing. 

Peter caught Tony’s gaze and flashed a placating smile, dazzling and bright and perfect. The paper bag from the boutique crinkled in its hands.

“Turned the heat all the way up, you can take your jacket off if you’d be more comfortable.” Tony suggested  mildly. A mortal would clock this as disconcerting, and Tony wondered if he’d misplayed when the angel just folded its hands in its lap and toyed with the cuffs of the denim jacket.

“I am okay, thank you.”

Well, it had to have some survival instincts, right? Protecting its wings would be at the top of the list.

Tony rolled his shoulders, breathing in the acrid roll of sweat and thick summer heat. He glanced in his rearview mirrors and then turned into an alley with a yellow No Outlet sign.

Peter’s chin jerked up when the sunlight faded behind tall and cramped the buildings. It craned its neck to try and see the sky and swallowed hard when Tony put the car in park at the end of the street.

“Th- thank you for the drive, Tony, sir… I will… your car is very nice.” The angel’s voice wavered and it fiddled with the door handle. But the car was locked and Peter didn’t know how to unlock it. When it realised this, it shifted in its seat and tried to look less like it had been scrambling to get out and more like it had just been fidgeting.

“I’ll always take pretty boys for a joy ride,” Tony smiled and he reached across the console, grasping Peter’s thigh. His hand almost completely covered the little thing’s leg, and he admired the flushed heat radiating through those snug white jeans.

And then the angel knew something was wrong. Peter’s eyes shyly lifted from its lap to look at Tony. Fear made Peter’s throat bob when it swallowed. Its own hand clutched delicately around Tony’s on its leg. It tightened its grip, fingernails digging tight but frail against Tony’s skin.

“Tony, may I leave… sir?”

Its breath misted in front of them, making Tony raise an eyebrow. Somehow its inner temperature was warmer than the hot air it had already released inside the car? God there was so much to learn from this delightful creature. So much information to extract and sell.

And he was about to have all the time in the world to do it.

“Not yet, Peter.”

Tony shifted closer, he moved his hand from Peter’s thigh to the collar of its jacket. He tugged, pulling the denim down.

“Go on,” Tony cooed, “Take it off.”

When Peter didn’t move, just continued to stare at him, Tony crossed his arms to open the glove box.

Peter elicited a squeak at the sight of the pistol and handcuffs. Tony dangled the golden cuffs from one finger as he unlatched the safety of the gun.

“Gold alloy and silver bullets, baby.” Tony smiled, “You gonna put these on yourself or do I get to see what colour you bleed?”

Peter blinked rapidly, its tears misted away before they could fall. It sniffed sharply.

“Sir, p-please…”

“This doesn’t have to get ugly. I don’t want to hurt you.”

It squeaked out, “You are hurting me.”

Tony tugged on the jacket again and Peter jerked. It yanked away, the jacket half coming off, and reached for the car door again. Its blush had climbed bright and hot to its face, beads of sweat trickled in the heat between them.

“Let me out!” Peter demanded. It tried to twist from Tony’s grip but Tony reached with his other hand and grabbed its arm, dragging it back.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Tony hissed, aware that he was probably bruising the delicates skin under those clothes. But bruises could heal.

“I’ve waited my whole damn life for this!” Tony growled, and he reached awkwardly to grab the angel’s other hand and wrest them both into its lap. Peter thrashed and cried as Tony clicked the handcuffs into place and then folded the angel over itself, baring its back to him. He pulled a knife from his pocket, too impatient now to see his prize.

“What are you d-doing!” Peter sniffed as Tony cut into the jacket.

Tony smirked, “Getting a look at those wings, angel.”

Peter twisted its face to the side, peering up at Tony through dark lashes, its tears glistened like liquid gold on the edge of its cheeks.

Peter’s voice trembled, “B-but I’m not an angel!”

It lifted one palm upward, heat and red skin now burning in the small space. Tony hesitated and pulled his hands away. They both watched the handcuffs melt. The denim jacket and white t-shirt smouldered away with it, drifting to ash on the passenger seat.

Peter’s eyes turned to Tony, liquid gold now burning with fire. Its arm flexed and a pattern of red and orange feathers erupted along its arm — its wings weren’t on its back, they were emerging from its own body.

Tony met Peter’s eyes.  He thought of the cigarette and car heater and the threads of fire and ember woven through every inch of Peter’s skin.

Not an angel.

Tony’s greatest fears spiralled to life and he whispered, “A phoenix.” 

He realised his mistake only a moment before Peter’s flame engulfed them.

[mildlyinterestedcreature]

Tony: Natasha has only knocked me out three time this week. Our friendship is really developing.

[purplefeathersandblackleather]

If any of you want to gift me for Christmas, just send links to TikToks or videos of Tony/Robert. And pictures or gifs as well.

I'm a simple bastard, what can I say?

[pandagirl45]

The love I have for aus about creature Tony or bucky. Tony a little weird, a little uncanny if you will. I was talking to my fiance and just Tony thriving in the backrooms. Made a pet with a dimensional cat that eats other creatures in the darkroom.

Made a wire creature part of his backrooms lab. He stole a bed from the hotel floor and avoided the creature. Tony is a little weirdo. The best little weirdo.

Then Bucky and his messed DNA, bucky maybe having a hell creature dna. Maybe even attracting some kind of demon or mythological creature. He ends up finding a baba yaga somewhere before throwing a handler into its path. Bucky would be the one who had something attached itself to him. He would have something coming our of him. If bucky had a symbiote.

They are little uncanny weirdos

[cowboyhorsegirl]

I can see every universes’ Tony attempt to become a vegan at some point, he’s a flexitarian/pescatarian in my head most of the time (even MCU Tony tries to cut out dairy (but let’s be real he often caves and gets a burger when he’s down)) but EMH Tony especially I can see him trying to be. and EMHSteve is SUCH a carnivore.

Please picture EMH Tony making that Steve brush his teeth before they kiss after breakfast due to EGG BREATH and general “what do you mean you are 20 strips of bacon???”

fjkslafjkdjsf;lajf no bc tony would literally be gagging saying "Steve? Beloved? My heart and soul? My better half? Love of my life? If you EVER kiss me with egg white slime on your lips again i will divorce your ass so fucking fast you'll get whiplash"

but also yes amazing headcanon!! def feel like part of tony deciding he doesn't want to waste this second chance at making his life mean something good would be him deliberately choosing to take care of his health so he can keep helping others and showing up for his team for as long as possible <3 <3

[destroyedparadise234]

I adore how when I tried to gently tug my cat’s bed away from the edge of my bed so she could be comfier / would be less likely to fall off, her head stayed in the same place while the rest of her body extended like a tiny furry slinky

[daydreamerdrew]

Tales of Suspense (1959) #40

[hurtspideyparker]

Thinking about restless spirit Tony Stark who just can't move on to the after life.

The first thing he does once he realizes he's an apparition is check on Pepper and Morgan. True to their word, they're okay. He watches them for a bit but feels this deep unrest pulling him away from the quaint home he yearns for.

There's a deep wrongness within him, some unfinished business that draws him back to New York.

He fears for a moment that it's Peter- but no, it can't be him. He'll be in Massachusetts right now, attending MIT as a freshman. There isn't a doubt in Tony's mind that his little genius is already making his mark.

Still, he follows the pull of his spirit to some dingy Queens' apartment he's never been to before.

It's deep in the night yet the apartment is empty. He looks around a bit, his body phasing through anything he attempts to touch.

It's small and dirty. There's old coffee cups on the desk, alongside a couple GED manuals. Great, the universe thinks he has unfinished business with some broke high school dropout.

He's pondering how he must have screwed up this kid's life; was it the Avengers, Stark Industries? Maybe his old playboy lifestyle is finally coming to bite him in the ass.

His contemplation is cut short by the sound of the window cracking open.

It strikes Tony for a moment that maybe he's stuck on Earth to be a guardian angel, Iron Man living on as some invisible protector against whatever creep is sneaking into people's windows. It doesn't make much sense considering the whole non-corporeal thing, but he still stiffens like he's ready for a fight.

He sees a man- no, a thing? A creature maybe, or an alien. Even in death Tony can't escape being one of Earth's mightiest heroes.

The creature is shrouded in darkness, something slick and bald crawling inside the room with terrifying grace and silence. It shuts the window with a soft kssssh as the seal is formed.

And then it pulls off its mask.

There, with the click of a table lamp, glows the face of Peter Parker.

He's definitely older now; sturdier shoulders, a rugged set of his jaw, hair tamed to something semi-professional. Still present, though, are those gentle brown eyes.

Nothing makes sense right now. Why is his kid here, in this apartment? Surely May wouldn't allow this. How many tenant laws does this place break? Where are his little sidekick friends? And on what planet would Peter Parker ever need a GED?

Tony's getting angry now, watching Peter move around the tiny space. He changes out of his costume and into pajamas. That spider suit isn't Tony's suit, it looks like cheap craft store fabric.

The kid opens a small freezer and pulls out the singular bag of peas that reside in there, pressing it against his ribs while he goes to pop some bread into a toaster.

Tony takes note of every glimpse he gains into Peter's life. Empty cabinets when he reaches for a jar of peanut butter. A fridge housing nothing but condiments and energy drinks when he goes to grab jam. A drawer with two spoons, no forks, and a paring knife which he pulls out and sticks into the strawberry jam jar just as the toast pops.

This is all so wrong.

Tony's outrage is coming to a rolling boil. Peter deserves the world- he was gonna give him the world. He couldn't wait to send Peter to MIT and show him off as his protégé. Tony was gonna fund his projects, tease him about pretty girls, maybe even see him step back from Spider-Man and act like a normal college kid. He wanted to see him flourish and grow up. It was all he could think about when Peter turned to dust between his fingers; he should be goofing off with his friends at a mathletes meeting, or building Legos, not fighting an intergalactic war.

Tony couldn't even conceive how much went wrong to end up here.

Alone. Broke. No school. He didn't even have his Stark suit to protect him. Everything that made him him has been stripped, leaving him in this shallow box with scuffed paint and hollow cabinets.

Tony can feel the violent rage burn deep in his spirit as he thinks about it.

This is why he's here. He can't let his boy live like this, wasting his potential to be some villain's punching bag. Where is everyone? Does no one care enough to stop this? The fury that builds in Tony is dangerous, wondering why a dead man is the only one who cares about the teen's life right now.

Without thinking Tony's hand reaches for the GED textbook, a mocking piece of work that laughs in his face, and throws it at the stupid little kitchenette that's mere feet from the bed.

It sails across the room with surprising speed before it's met with a thunk against Peter's palm, hand reaching out to catch it from the air before it collided with the toaster.

Oh.

Peter sets the book down and immediately picks up his web shooters, eyes darting furiously to every corner of the tiny apartment.

"Who's there?"

Tony steps a little closer but Peter's eyes just look right past him.

"C'mon Pete, c'mon. I'm here, I'm right here."

Tony looks for something else to grab. He swats at a hopefully empty coffee cup on the wooden desk, but his hand just passes right through it.

"Shit," the hope Tony felt waivers slightly and he tries again.

Nothing.

Peter is searching his apartment now, making sure the window is secure and feeling around every crevice, bookshelves, under the bed, in the top corners of the room. Searching for something nefarious, tech maybe.

Tony hits the cup, again and again, frustration building up and up and up till-

The cup flies across the room, Tony and Peter's eyes track its movements as it bounces against the ground and rolls to a stop.

"Shit," Peter breathes out.

Tony walks up to Peter now, standing before him.

"Figure it out. Think kid, you've met aliens, gods, magicians, surely ghosts aren't too far fetched."

Peter closes his eyes. His posture straightens, Tony watches him take a deep breath in as the hairs on his bare arms stand on end.

Peter's eyes blink open, and they're looking directly at Tony.

Tony smirks, "that's it."

Peter turns around and picks the cup off the ground, running to his desk with it and ripping a piece of lined paper out of a notebook and scribbling furiously on it.

Tony walks over as Peter places the cup in the center of the paper.

On the left is the word YES in bold print, NO on the right.

"Okay, okay okay. So, move the cup if, if you wanna talk. Um, is there someone in the room right now?"

Tony reaches for the cup, an intense glare as his fingertips graze it gently. It shifts minutely towards the YES.

"Shit! Shit. Sorry, whew. Okay. Are you friendly?"

Tony moves it to YES again.

"Are you a, um. Person? Like not an alien?"

YES.

"Are you wearing tech, invisibility suit or your molecules are uncalibrated or maybe it's a portal thing like, multiverse shit is happening again, a mirror universe! Oh, maybe a..."

Tony let's a frustrated sign. The kid is too practical, logical. He needs to think like a non-genius.

"... could be. Or, or maybe you're just a ghost-"

Tony perks up and immediately swats the cup, causing it to fly off the desk towards the YES.

"Oh. Oh that's... kinda normal. Or maybe really weird? I mean... I certainly have some ghosts in my past."

Peter picks the cup up and puts it back on the desk.

"Do I know you?"

YES.

"You said you were friendly, and I'm not getting any danger tingles from you. I'm gonna start with people I know are dead, cuz I just really hope you're not a... new ghost. Um. M-May?"

The boy's voice cracks on the word and Tony freezes. May is dead? Tony starts to fear that things are a lot more wrong than he previously thought.

Peter's breath catches and Tony realizes he's waiting, dying for an answer, and quickly pokes the cup towards NO.

Peter's shoulders sag.

"Uncle Ben?"

NO.

"T- Mr. Stark?"

Tony grins, "now we're getting somewhere!"

YES.

Tony is going to have his work cut out for him, but being here with Peter just feels right.

Peter breaks out into a matching smile.

"Wow, okay. I think I'm gonna need more paper," he says as the boy gets to work making a more complex system than YES and NO.

Tony watches on proudly, reminiscing about all the great Peter was and all the great he still is, despite his situation. Whatever this is, they'll figure it out.

Together.

[traveler-at-heart]

Across the Natashaverse - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Summary: After you're sent to another world, Natasha has to deal with yourself, from another universe, and a very different life.

Other POV from this fic.

“Put more weight on your left foot” Natasha says, barely checking America’s movements.

Of course she knows this is important. Maria asked her to train Chavez in the basics of hand to hand combat. Her mind is elsewhere, though.

Especifically, you.

Natasha thought she was doing you a favor, she really did. Someone as kind as you could do much better than her. Agreeing to a date would only give you false hope, so she rejected the invitation.

It was foolish of her to think that things would be the same after that. You weren’t distant or rude, though that might have been easier.

Every morning, you’d still have breakfast with her, show her funny videos or tell her about your latest discoveries in the lab with Stark, which in the end, were related to her work as well.

You simply stopped sharing your interests, or going out of your way to seek her company. Long gone were the days of sitting together at the Met while you talked about your favorite paintings. Or the grocery shopping that turned into strolls through Central Park and ended in your favorite bookshop.

All that was left now were pleasantries.

“Am I doing it right?” America asks. She sure as hell isn’t, so Natasha shakes her head, hoping she can manage to focus on the task at hand.

“Stop” she says, stepping on the sparring mat.

“Please don’t tell me you want me to fight you”

“You’re punching the air, Chavez. The only way to learn is by doing. It will be fine”

The girl doesn’t seem too convinced, but Natasha starts with slow movements and corrects America as they go. When the intensity of the training increases, the girl’s powers begin to stir. A yellow flash on the ceiling distracts Natasha, and the next thing she feels is America’s fist colliding with her cheek.

“Crap! Agent Romanoff, I’m so sorry”

But there’s another loud thud, not far from the gym.

“Did you hear that?” Natasha asks, trying to figure what the noise is.

“Maybe”

“Take a break” Natasha instructs, looking around the room to check if everything’s alright. The team is still figuring out the extent of her powers and Natasha worries the girl just unleashed a demonic creature or something.

The redhead is so focused on the room, she doesn’t notice someone approaching.

That is, until she feels a hard slap on her ass, and a sultry voice against her ear.

“There’s my favorite ass-assin”

Five seconds later, she has the intruder upside down, back against the floor, gasping for air.

“Baby, I know you don’t like my jokes but this is a little too much, don’t you think?”

It takes her a second to process what’s happening.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, love” you smirk, all smug despite being knocked down by Natasha. “The weirdest thing just happened, I was going to get a snack because Anya was moody and then fell on my ass right outside the gym”

Natasha stares at you, as if you’re speaking a foreign language. And then it all clicks. The slightly longer hair, how you smell and feel different.

She let’s go of you and starts pulling your shirt by the collar.

“Hell yeah, let’s get naked”

“Where’s your birthmark?”

“I don’t have a…”

“You’re from another world”

“Ah, that’s so sweet…” you try to lean forward and kiss her, but she pushes you away. “Babe, I’m getting mixed signals here”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., call for an emergency meeting”

—

“I’m sorry, she’s what?” Sam points at you, and Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

“She’s from another universe. America must have opened up a portal when we were training”

“Alright, so she just opens it back and we correct the mistake”

“It’s not that simple” Tony walks in.

“Uhm, guys. This meeting should be for Avengers only” you lower your voice, eyeing the man suspiciously.

“Hello? That table you’re sitting in so carelessly. Mahogany. Paid by me”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen this man before”

“A world without Tony Stark” Steve says, amused.

“Must be really quiet in your Compound” Sam says and you smirk.

“Why, no thanks to you. Not with all those super models you’re always bringing back to your room” you raise your eyebrows and Sam’s eyes widen.

“I date super models? I wanna go to her world”

Steve and Tony begin to argue about how that will make the multiverse collapse, when Natasha interrupts them.

“She’s messing with you, idiots”

Tony and Sam look at each other and then at you. You almost fall to the ground as you laugh. Since you’re not helpful, the team ignores you as they keep discussing the best way to identify your reality and correct the glitch.

“Y/N 2.0, we need more information about your… where did she go?” Tony grumbles.

“I got this” Natasha sighs, stomping to the kitchen. Sure enough, you’re rummaging through the fridge, complaining at every item of food you find.

“Don’t you have anything with sugar here?”

“You’re free to prepare anything for yourself”

“Not unless you want the kitchen to explode, Nat”

The redhead pushes you aside, while you look around the living room, inspecting the pictures on every place you can find.

“No wedding? Or Anya?”

“Nope” Natasha says, her voice shaking lightly.

“Why?”

“None of your business” she says, handing you a plate with a sanwich.

“Thanks. How did you know I was lying about Stark and Wilson?”

“Your voice gets all high pitched when you tell a lie” she answers, refusing to look at you.

“Huh” you mumble, taking a bite out of the sandwich. “Um. Is this peanut butter?”

“Would her Highness prefer caviar?” Natasha teases, but turns around and finds you covered in hives. “Shit!”

“That’s fine” you say, struggling to breathe. “Nothing an epi can’t fix, love”

You pass out in the middle of the kitchen, wondering if you’ll leave this foreign universe in one piece.

—

After leaving you at the medbay, Natasha goes back to the meeting room. She’s examining all the reports and missions that are related to multiverses. It’s a lot to digest, including all the quantum physics.

Alone for the first time since this whole thing started, she finally allows herself the chance to miss you. Right around this time, you’d be making dinner, and she’d be in the kitchen, pretending to help just to be close to you.

What if she never gets you back?

“Hello, there” a voice says. You approach slowly, knowing it’s best not to surprise her.

“How are you feeling? I’m really sorry…”

“There’s no way you could have known. It honestly never occurred to me that things like allergies were different” you say, patting her leg. “Interested in string theory?”

“Yeah, it’s a great ice breaker” Natasha says, and you chuckle. “You don’t seem too worried”

“The America Chavez of my world has had a bit more training. I’m sure I’ll be back home for lunch tomorrow”

“You could have said something!” Natasha feels the need to kick your ass again.

“Hey, I was gonna! And then I almost died”

“Jerk”

“What are you so worried about? She’s in a safe world”

“What if your Natasha gave Y/N a similar welcome?”

“Oh, I’m sure she had her pinned to a wall, only for very different reasons”

Natasha turns to you, alarmed. Her jealousy is so obvious that all you can do is laugh.

“There it is. I wasn’t sure you had any feelings towards her. Wanna tell me what happened?” you nudge her chair with your foot and she looks at you, annoyed.

“She asked me out, gave me flowers, I said no”

“Flowers, huh? Well, she’s more romantic than me. Natasha and I were pretending to be a couple for a mission and then I just blurted out I wouldn’t mind doing it again under different circumstances” you explain, laughing at the memory.  “But hey, if flowers and chocolates aren’t your thing, I respect it”

“It’s not like that”

“Then, what is it like?”

She thinks back to all the times you’ve made her feel safe, cared for, loved. You make it look so easy, but for the life of her, Natasha can’t figure out how to reciprocate.

What you make her feel, is too good and beautiful for someone like her.

“I haven’t earned her love” is all she manages to say.

“Natasha” you call, softly, and only speak when she finally turns to you. “You don’t have to do anything to be deserving of love”

There is silence, and then you take her hand in yours.

“Come on, I’m starving. Let’s grab some Chinese”

“Fine. No more peanut butter, though. I don’t want to fight myself if something happens to you”

“Now that would be entertaining”

—

Next morning, everyone is back in the meeting room. Apparently, due to some bad experiences, they’ve decided you should come back to your world immediately, before the universes collapse.

“I promise you, it will be fine” you insist. Natasha is the only one that seems to believe you, so you save yourself the trouble and spin around in the office chair.

“Can you stop?” Steve says, irritated.

“I’m trying to create a vortex that is powerful enough to send me back to my reality, Steve” but he still glares and you stand up. “Fine. I’m getting a snack”

As you exit the room, Natasha comes running behind you.

“Wait. I wanted to apologize”

“Steve is an old grumpy man, don’t sweat it”

“No, not about that. I’m sorry for… being so hard on you when you first got here”

“We deal with aliens and all kinds of threats.  It’s not so crazy to think that an intruder is dangerous. It’s all good, Nat” you shrug your shoulders.

“I just wouldn’t be ok if your Natasha had acted that way with my Y/N”

“Your Y/N?” you repeat, pleased as Natasha blushes. “Good for you, Romanoff. Get the girl. Trust me when I say, she’ll make it worth it” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“Such a flirt”

“We can’t help ourselves around you, no matter the universe”

You wink, and walk to the kitchen, leaving Natasha in the hallway.

Inevitably, she thinks about you. The one that belongs here, with her. Are you enjoying your time in that other universe? Will you resent her for bringing you back? Maybe that Natasha is more loving and sweet, and you’ll finally realise that she can’t actually make you happy…

Her thoughts begin to spiral again, until the commotion in the room breaks her train of thought.

“Damn, you fell from the ceiling” Sam says, looking up. A yellow portal closes just as Natasha opens up the door. Everyone’s around you, and when your face comes to view, Natasha’s heart almost stops.

There’s a little cut and bruising from the fall, but you’re back.

She pushes everyone, and wraps you in her arms. You return the gesture.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s me”

She hugs you closer, smiling against your neck.

Natasha’s never letting go again.

—

“So, tell me everything!” you say, sitting next to Natasha as you drive back home. “Did I tell you I almost died to peanut exposure?”

“Looks like someone had fun” your wife comments and you smile.

“What about you, my love? Did you do anything dirty with my other self?”

“Well, there might have been some kissing and touching before I noticed…”

“Not to brag, but the other Natasha was on top of me” you say, trying to pretend like it’s no big deal your wife kissed another you.

“You pissed her off and she threw you to the ground, didn’t she?” Natasha smirks.

Damn it.

“Maybe”

Seeing your daughter brings you back to reality. Fun as it was to be in another universe, your life is perfect here.

“Mommy, are you cooking dinner again tonight?” the girl says as you carry her to the kitchen.

“Uh… let’s have lunch first, yes? Go wash your hands”

Natasha hands you a plate of what the other Y/N made and you gasp.

“Holy crap, this is delicious! Babe, not gonna lie, I wouldn’t have judged you if you fucked her against a wall after tasting her food”

“You’re such an idiot” Natasha rolls her eyes, sitting on your lap and stealing a bite of the pasta. “But you are my idiot”

“Always and in every universe, baby”

You kiss her softly, happy to be home.

[croimilis]

private show

title: private show

characters: peter parker x stark!avenger!reader

rating: 18+

words: 8k

theme: smut, porn with minor plot, a little sweet moment between reader, shang-chi and america

warning: smut, filthy smut, alcohol. titty job, oral (m and f receiving),hair pulling, praise, thigh riding, fingering, nipple play, reader has nipple piercings, p in v sex, unprotected sex (please assume some type of other contraception is used), multiple orgasms (both m and f), cum swallowing, peters a bit of  perv, mentions of birth control, creampie, dom!peter, confident!peter, cum eating, cum play, peter calls reader ‘princess’ maybe a little too much, soft!peter, aftercare, a little bit of subdrop

summary:  “turn down the lights and watch my private show”

you notice peter has an obsession with your tits, so you offer to give him a private show

tags: @xoxabs88xox​

a/n: all characters are 18+ (specifically 21 as there is drinking mentioned), this was meant to be short and sweet, but i’m slowly learning i cannot do anything in moderation and it is most definitely the most filthy smut i have ever written

He was staring again, his eyes following you throughout the room from the moment you entered. You could feel them burning into your skin as you walked, greeting various benefactors and members of the Avengers with you arm wrapped around Tony’s, to be specific you could feel them burning into the skin of the cleavage you had exposed in your deep cut dress where the ‘v’ almost reached your belly button.

It wasn’t the first time you had noticed Peter staring at your boobs, it was one of many over the last couple of months and you were sure he was staring long before it came to your attention and you don’t know how you didn’t notice sooner. After all, Peter Parker was not discreet in any way shape or form outside of his role as Spiderman.

When you first noticed it was soon after you had gotten your nipples pierced, much to your fathers horror and everyone else's amusement as Tony freaked out about his ‘sweet innocent little angel falling into temptations’ despite knowing you had not been innocent since the age of 16 when you asked him to go on birth control specifying why (he looked like he was ready to drop dead at that very second while Peper just looked on with an amused smile).

Given the pain of the piercings, you were reluctant to wear a bra for the first few days and instead floated about in loose tank tops and camis that were just tight enough to show your new piercings but not enough that it would hurt. This particular day, you were sitting at the kitchen island of the compound just scrolling on your phone as you waited for Tony and Bruce to be finished in the lab because you were supposed to be heading out to lunch with your dad.

As Peter walks into the kitchen, you flash him a smile and give a small “”hey” in greeting before turning your eyes back to your phone. Peter on the other hand could not keep his eyes off you no matter how hard he tried. In general, Peter thought you were stunning, this complete otherworldly creature that he could only describe as heavenly and he was completely and utterly infatuated from the moment he saw you all those years ago when he first joined the Avengers at the young of age of 16, that was 5 years ago now and he was still completely enamoured with you. Probably even more so now that he actually knew you as a person.

But recently Peter has become completely obsessed with a particular part of your body, he just couldn’t help himself. It seemed that every time you were around his eyes would drift towards your chest and stay there for much longer than was deemed polite, though he was sure that by even looking he was way past the point of politeness, and today was no different.

Especially with the way the bars of your new piercings were pushing against the fabric of your shirt, as if inviting him to have a look and he couldn���t look away, not as you greeted him, not as he leaned against the kitchen counter while eating the apple he had lifted, not as you tell him about the newest article about Spiderman and (hero name) and how there’s rumours the two are sleeping together or romantically involved and snort at some of the comments being made about the two of you, and not as Tony walks into the room to take you for your lunch. He prays to every god that could exist, including Thor and Loki, that you don’t notice the way his eyes suddenly snap up to your face as you give him a goodbye, like all the other times he stares he hopes you don’t notice.

But unlike all the other times before, you notice this time. You had actually looked up from your phone for a split second to try and read Peter’s expression as you tell him about the news article you were reading and had noticed that while he was listening, he was focused on something other than your voice and he was not being discreet about it with the way his eyes lingered and a light flush dusted his cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

Instead of questioning him, you simply smirk and look back down to your phone, a small blush spreading across your cheeks at the attention. After all, similar to Peter, you harboured an attraction to him from the first time you met at 16 years old but never thought it was reciprocated in any way but now you knew you were going to have fun with it.

After that you started noticing him staring more often.Like that one time after training with Natasha when you were in nothing but a sports bra and pair of athletic shorts, he seemed to be watching the way the sweat that had gathered on your body was dripping down between your cleavage with such intensity you could almost feel his gaze burning into our skin. That day you had to suppress a smirk and pretend like you were just getting a headache as Nat turned to you with a weird look and asked what was up, after all just because you knew didn’t mean everyone else had to know.

Or that time you were at an Avengers themed Halloween party some fraternity at your college was throwing and you had gone as Black Widow, taking one of Nats old cat suits and adjusting it to your body measurements to do so. Still, even with adjustments the suit was tight around your chest and squeezed your breasts together in a way that made sure they would be hard to miss. You had meet up with Peter (obviously dressed as Spiderman) and MJ (who refused to participate but still wore an Avengers t-shirt) at the party and immediately noticed how Peter’s eyes drifted to your chest before they bounced back to your eyes, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he stuttered out a greeting and practically choked on his own spit causing MJ to turn to him with a ‘wtf’ look and a “dude are you okay?”

You simply batted your eyelashes at him, inwardly grinning to yourself, and asked in your most innocent voice, “Yeah, Pete. You okay?” Peter swore he was going to die that very second had it not been for Flash (who was dressed up as Spiderman as well, though he claimed his looked more authentic despite the fact that Peter was simply wearing one of his old costumes) coming up and stealing your attention from Peter with a “(Y/N)! You’re looking great.”

---

There were moments like that scattered throughout the few months since you had noticed him staring for the first time, all of them leading up to this night and your choice of dress. Natasha and Wanda had helped you pick it out, a gorgeous black that hugged close to your figure and showed off all your curves beautifully with a deep deep ‘v’ neckline that showed of your tits like they were pieces of art to be shown off, Tony had nearly had heart failure when he had seen you in it for the first time a week earlier as he walked in on Pepper adjusting the length for you. Which to you, meant it was absolutely perfect for what you wanted it for.

Your eyes roam  around the room for a bit, your arms wrapped around Tonys as talks to another benefactor and Admiral Simpson or something like that, you had stopped caring three Admirals ago, looking for Peter. When your eyes finally meet his, you smile and excuse yourself from the conversation to go and join him at the large window showing off the lights of New York below.

Peter is standing by himself, occasionally bringing the beer in his hand to his mouth to take a sip. These events weren’t really his scene, while Peter loved a good party he hated the formality around the Avengers events and so he usually kept to himself and relegated himself to a corner of the room where he could nurse a beer the whole night and just watch as the party slipped by him. Sometimes you joined him in his corner, bringing cheesy jokes and conversations that kept his mind busy, other times the two of you would escape and he would take you swinging around the city and you would end up sitting on some random rooftop his suit jacket wrapped around your shoulders to fight of the cold as you ate some of the best pizza greasy New York had to offer.

It seemed this night you decided to just join him, lifting a champagne flute from the tray of a waiter as they passed you by and downing its contents in second leaving a red residue behind from your lipstick. You stand in front of him, a small smile on your face as you do so and greet him with a gentle “hey” that he reciprocated, though you have to stop your smile from turning into a smirk as his eyes moved down your face and across your body, fully taking you in, lingering a little too long on your chest.

As Peter greets you, eyes quickly snapping up to meet yours, you let out a small chuckle and reach a hand out, wrapping it gently around his wrist and slowly moving it up her arm as you lean close to his ear, your chest pressing against his lightly as you do so.

“If you like staring at my tits so much, why don’t I give you a private show?” You smirk to yourself and bite down on your bottom lip, you were so close you could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks as the blush spread across his face rapidly.

You remove your hand from his bicep, slowly trailing it up his shoulder as you walk behind Peter, your chest now very flush with his back, you keep going your hand now gently wrapped around Peter’s neck as you tilt his head upwards so he’s looking at ceiling and you lips are right beside his ear, “Meet me in my room in 30 minutes”

You would go now, but the party had only started and as the daughter of the host it would be rude of you to not make the rounds, have at least 1 drink and socialise a bit with the other avengers, and maybe just maybe you wanted to torment the poor soul just a little. You remove your hand from Peter's neck and fully turn away from him, instead facing the bar and you smile at Natasha, who was behind the bar as usual much preferring to work at these events than have to socialise and who was already preparing a (preferred drink) for you.

As you approach, she cocks and eyebrow and gives you a sly but questioning look as if she knew exactly what you were up to., placing the drink down on the counter in front of you. “What are you doing that poor boy?”

You simply roll your eyes and lift the drinking, bringing it to your lips, eyes ghosting over to where Peter now stood in shock with a bright blush spreading across his cheeks and his head whipping from side to side to make sure no one else had seen what had happened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about Nat.”

“Uh-uh, as if you couldn’t cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a butterknife.” You snort at her comment, leaning your back against the bar and placing your elbows on it as well for extra stability in your heels as Nat leans on the bar at your side, arms crossed over the counter and her head tilted towards you, “Just make safe choices, we don’t need any little Iron Spiderlings running around.”

This time you roll your eyes at her comment and down the rest of your drink, your eyes finding a very nervous looking Shang-chi and America being hounded by a bunch of benefactors who want to know simply everything about the pair, well more specifically about what they could do. You push yourself of the bar and turn to Nat to place a kiss to her cheek, “I always make safe choices Nat,” Natasha rolls her eyes at you as she leans into the kiss and you give her a cheeky smile as you make your way over to the nervous pair and the five or six benefactors surrounding them.

“Okay, why don’t we give them some space to breathe?” The benefactors all turn to look at you at the sound of your voice, your eyes are narrowed into a glare, your face hardened and arms crossed over your chest, even if they didn’t know what exactly you were capable off and the fact that you could kill them all twice over in just a few seconds they would still be intimidated from your look alone, after all your glare could rival Medusas and turned most people into living statues as they stared at you in fear, a skill you have to thank Natasha for. They all gulp down their fear, shuffling away from Shang-Chi and America with nervous looks on their face and all muttering some form of “of course Miss. Stark” or “sorry Miss.Stark.”, preferring to use your real name over your hero name as if refusing to address you as your hero name gave them some sort of power over you.

You kept the glare on your face until the last of them disappeared out of your sight, instead going to bother some other members of the Avengers (probably Sam and Bucky) who would have no problem either entertaining them or telling them to fuck right off. As the last one disappears, you drop the glare and turn to Shang-Chi and America with a soft smile and nothing but kindness in your eyes. “You guys okay?”

America says nothing and just nods her head as she wrings her hands together nervously and Shang-chi gulps down his nerves and answers you, “Yeah..we’re…we’re good.” With a chuckle you realise they were scared of you and you reach out a hand to take Americas, rubbing soft circles against her skin as you do so to try and ease her nerves, “Relax, that look is reserved for those vultures and the press.”

Shang-Chi nods his head and you can see the tension leave his shoulders slightly, though not completely, and you can feel some of the tension leave America as she winds her fingers in with yours as a form of comfort. “Other then those guys, how are you guys?”

A shaky breath leaves Shang-Chi lips, “Nervous,” you nod along to him and hum softly in response, “Your first event is always the hardest, but you get used to them after a while and you learn how to tell those dicks to fuck off without feeling guilty about it.” America lets out a giggle at your words and you smile at her, she’s a sweet girl and being around the age you were when you first joined the Avengers you felt a sisterly need to look after her.

You spend the next 20 minutes just talking to the pair, calming their nerves and reassuring them that they were going to be fine. Every Avenger in the room had their backs and all it would take is one word and they would handle anyone giving them bother, especially Stephen Strange who had formed an attachment to America.

Once their nerves were calmed she started to get to know each other a little more, you talked about your mothers and how much you adored and missed them, Shang-Chi told you about Ta Lo and America told you about the Utopian parallel universe she was from and you spoke about the small cottage in the middle of nowhere your mother raised you in, surrounded by nothing but woods and nature, it was your perfect little corner of the world untouched by anyone else until she got sick. It was nice to talk about, most people you spoke to about your mother always showed sympathy and seemed to focus on the the loss rather than who she was as a person, but Shang-Chi and America wanted to know about her, about your life with her, not the grief, not the loss, but the good moments, the memories you shared with her and the love.

The conversation shifts quickly as Shang-Chi and America start to discuss some movie they had both seen that weekend, and you take that moment to excuse yourself from the pair as you notice Peter slip out of the room. You make your way towards the back of the room, skirting the edges and disappearing into the shadows as you do making it easy for you to slip out of the room without being noticed by most people, the only ones that do are Natasha and Bucky and they share a knowing look and small smirk before they turn back to their conversation.

---

As quickly as you slip into your room, you’re slammed against the cool metal of the door as it slides closed behind you with a hand roughly grabbing at your hips and another slamming against the door at the side of your face effectively trapping you against it. Your eyes instantly snap up to meet with Peter’s, his pupils blown wide and full of lust, you simply smirk up at him and bite down on your lip.

He’s so close, pressing his body against yours and you can feel the bulge that is barely contained by his dress pants pressing against you, can feel the rippling muscles of his abdomen as they press against your chest and his hot breath against your face as he leans in towards yu, yet still you want him impossibly closer to you. The desire that has been boiling away inside you these past few months finally bubbling over and igniting every nerve ending in your body, leaving you consumed by want, by need.

Your own breath starts to come out heavy and laboured as the desire begins to pull in your stomach, especially as Peter squeezes at your hips and slowly starts to move his hand upwards, ghosting over your torso and going higher and higher until his palm is barely touching the side of your breast while his fingers gently dug into your rips.

“I believe you owe me a show princess.”

You were used to the term ‘princess’ being thrown around when discussing you, usually by the press or by the people who thought you got everything handed to you by Tony since you were introduced to the world as his daughter at your 18 birthday. The people who called you princess used the word like a knife in an attempt to cut into you and see you bleed so they could inject their venom directly into your blood and turn you into the bitchy socialite they wanted you to be, that way they would be justified in their horribleness towards you.

But Peter’s tone did not hold any venom it, his voice had not be sharpened into a knife edge meant to dig into your skin, Instead it was honey rich and smooth and slipped off his tongue almost like a prayer, warming you from the inside and sending another pang of desire rolling through your bones.

Peter steps back from you, his arms moving from your side and waist but despite the absence you can still feel their lingering warmth through the fabric of your dress, and he sits himself down on the edge of your bed with his forearms against his thighs as he leans forward slightly and regards you with an intense, almost predatory gaze.

It sends a shiver down your spines and warmth to your core and the intensity of the look causes your hands to shake as you reach to the back of your dress and slowly pull down the zipper. You were deliberate with your speed, wanting to tease Peter just a little while longer and maybe a part of you was hoping he would jump to his feet and rip the zipper down himself. But he doesn’t.

Instead, as the slipper slowly moves down your back,you notice the vein in his jaw jump as he clenches it tighter and tighter. As the zip finally reaches the bottom, just above your ass, you let the sleeves of the dress fall from your arms which allows the fabric to pool at your feet, leaving you in only your heels. You stand there for a second, watching as Peter’s eyes widen at your bare form, after all the tightness of your dress did not leave room for panties or bra lines. His reaction causes a smirk to rise on your lips.

“You’re fucking stunning princess.”

You step out of the fabric at your feet, your heels clicking against the ground as you stalk towards him. As you reach him, his hands wrap around your bare thighs and he gives them a gentle squeeze as he stares up at you before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss against your hip. You cup your hands around his jaw, rubbing your thumb against his cheek as you bend down to place a gentle kiss against his lips.

The kiss starts soft but quickly turns heated as Peter grips at your thigh and causes a small gasp to leave your lips, which Peter uses to shove his tongue into your mouth. You moan into Peter’s mouth as he twirls his tongue around yours before pulling it back and biting down gently on your lip, one of his hands moves from your thigh and trails ever closer to where you need him most and he smirks into the kiss as he feels your wetness seeping down your  thigh, the effect he has on you fueling his ego.

Peter pulls away from the kiss and pulls his hand away from your thigh, a light residue from the wetness on your thigh coating his fingers, “This all for me baby?”

You nod, not knowing where this confident side of Peter had come from but loving it all the same, “Yes Peter, all for you.” He lets out a hum and sucks his fingers into his mouth, savouring the lingering taste of you as he looks up at your flushed cheeks through his long lashes. You gulp at the sight, moving your hands from his jaw line and down onto his shoulders, trailing down his arms as you lower yourself down onto your knees in front of him.

You rest your hands over his clothed thigh and look up at Peter with lightly veiled innocence, your big doe eyes lust blown to the point that the [colour] of your irises were almost completely gone, eclipsed by the blackness of your pupils, and slightly parted lips now imprinted in Peter's mind and locked away somewhere safe for those lonely nights in the future where he will most definitely be touching himself thinking about this night.  “Let me take care of you Peter, please?”

When you look at him like that and ask in that almost begging tone, who was he to tell you no, “Go ahead baby.”

With his permission, you’re moving your hand from his thigh and to the zipper of his pants pulling it down and then pulling down both his pants and boxers in on go, Peter lifting his hips slightly to make it easier for you, letting them pool around his ankles and you lick your lips at the sight of his cock bouncing against his stomach once its released from his boxers.

You keep your hands on high thighs and lean forward, your tongue making contact with the base of Peter’s cock and causing a groan to fall from Peter’s lip that only amplifies as you lick up to the tip and suck the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The moan Peter lets out is like music to your ears and encourages you to do it again, running your tongue over the slit as you do, before starting to bob up and down on his length.

You do your best to take him all in your mouth, but you struggle to do so, gagging as he hits the back of your throat. Your inability to take all of him in your mouth sparks an idea in your mind, one you're sure Peter is going to love. Pushing yourself up on your knees so you’re just that little bit higher, you lean forward and slot Peter’s cock into the valley of your breasts and Peter nearly faints at the sight.

Your pretty lips all swollen from the kiss and from sucking his cock, your pretty little boobs wrapped around his cock, its another image seared into his mind and stored away for later use. As you press your hands into the side of your boobs, tightening their hold on his cock, and start moving them up and down, the moan Peter lets out can only be described as unholy and it adds fuel to the already raging fire inside you as you clench and unclench around nothing and rub your thighs together for just a little bit of friction or relief, though it offers none.

You continue your ministrations with your tits, watching through heavy lashes as Peter’s face contorts in pleasure and he struggles to hold in the moans and groans that are falling intermittently from his lips, between words of praise about how good you’re making him feel and being such a good girl for him, you would admit it to no one (not even Peter) but his words went straight to your core and caused you to clench even harder around nothing.

You reach your tongue out, giving kitten licks to the mushroom tip and over his slit as often as you could between the thrust of yours boobs, causing Peter to throw his head back and pleasure and reach a hand out to grab at the hair at the back of your head, “Shit , princess… you’re killing me here.”

That’s all the encouragement you need to keep going, darting your tongue out and swiping across Peters head almost every time it gets close to your mouth, licking up the precum leaking out of the tip, and squeezing your boobs even tighter around his cock as you do so, another groan forces itself out of Peters mouth as his hand tightens in your hair, causing a moan to fall from your own lips. “I’m so close, you gonna let me cum all over those pretty tits of yours princess?”

“Yes Peter, please cum all over my tits”

The desperation in your voice, the almost begging tone lacing it causes Peter to lose his composure and control as he shoots rope after rope of cum over your chest as you continue to move your boobs over him, the cum spreading down the valley and up onto your chest with some even landing in your mouth on your waiting tongue that you had stuck out when he started to cum.

Peter pants as you let go of your boobs and sit back, his hand leaves your hair and instead cups your jaw gently in a stark contrast with how hard he had been gripping at the roots where he runs a finger across your chin to swipe up the cum that had hit against it. He taps his thumb against your lips and you open, sucking his thumb into your mouth and moaning at the sensuality of it. It’s another image Peter will have seared in the back of his brain for the rest of his life.

As Peter focuses on the image of you, on your knees sucking on his thumb covered in his cum, you swipe some of the cum of your chest letting it cover your fingers before you pull back of his thumb and instead suck your own fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them to get as much cum off them as you can. Your eyes are staring up at Peter’s through your eyelashes, watching as the irises almost completely disappear, existing as the smallest rings around the pitch blackness of the blown out pupil, when you pull your fingers from your mouth with a ‘pop’ Peter is quick to pull you into a rough kiss, instantly shoving his tongue into your mouth.

You moan at the sensation of his tongue massaging yours, reaching your hands up and wrapping them around his neck, rising back up so Peter’s not having to bend over as much, tangling your hands a little bit less than gently in his hair and giving it a gentle tug, which causes Peter to let put a deep almost animalistic growl that has you clenching your thighs together even tighter, the movement of which Peter notices and he’s pulls away from you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“You took such good care of me princess…” His hand ghosts across your thigh until he’s hovering over your core, so close you can feel the heat emanating from it, and then ever so slowly he runs a finger through your folds, pressing against your clit with the slightest pressure as he does so and causing a whine to fall from your lips because god was it the most heavenly thing you’ve felt recently but it just was not enough, “Now let me take care of you.”

He takes your arms in his hands, guiding you to standing before he strips himself of his blazer and dress shirt, throwing them to the ground somewhere in your room. He lets you go and sits back down on the bed, patting his thigh as an invitation for you to sit. It's one you take almost immediately, throwing on leg over and lowering yourself down so that the fabric of his trousers make contact with your bare cunt and rubbing so deliciously on your clit as you do, ripping a moan from your throat as you do. "You have such pretty moans, pretty girl."

Peter grips onto your hips, fingers digging in a way that was painful to the point you were sure they were going to leave bruises but also amplified the pleasure coursing through your veins. Peter starts to move you up and down his thigh, the friction of the fabric rubbing on your clit at a brutal pace sending shockwaves through you and causing you to throw your head back as moans continually fall from your lips.

“Does that feel good?” You nod your head and Peter tenses his thigh underneath you, bouncing his knee alongside it pulling another loud moan from your lips at pleasure overwhelms your senses, “Come on princess, you gotta use your words.”

You let out a whine at the sensation, the motion of the bounce putting delicious pressure and friction against your clit that has you almost seeing stars, “Fe-feels s’good Peter.” Your words slur together as pleasure overwhelms your senses. Peter’s grip tightens at your words as he moves you even quicker against his thigh, the coil in your stomach that had already been wound tight, tightens even further and can feel the cliff edge of your orgasm approaching so very quickly.

“Yeah baby? You gonna cum all over my thigh?” You nod your head, reaching your hand up to grip at Peter’s shoulders so tightly that you're sure you’ll leave behind crescent shapes from your nails or even draw blood. Peter groans at the sensation, his cock already semi-hard again from watching you unravel on his thigh, he never thought he would be in pain (he experience enough of it on a daily basis) but yet here you are proving him wrong with the way your hands had previously tugged at his hair and the way your nails are currently biting into his skin and causing his cock to twitch at the sensations.

“Go on then princess, cum for me.” There he goes again with that stupid pet name that you should hate but instead has you melting into him even further, your clit throbbing as it rolls of his tongue like liquid gold honey that seeps deep into your bones. Peter tenses his thigh once again and you feel every ridge of hard muscle under the cloth of his trousers and it sends you spiralling off the cliff edge you had been teetering on as your orgasm sends shockwaves through your body.

Peter watches your face as it contorts in pleasure from your orgasm wracking through your body, ignoring the wetness that had now gone through his pants and was coating his thigh, and he swears you’ve never looked more beautiful and another image is forever ingrained in his mind. His cock was now fully hard once again and twitching against his stomach begging for some kind of attention or friction, which he grants it by removing his hand from it and giving it a few pumps but it wasn’t enough, no, Peter was feeling greedy now. He already felt the bliss of your mouth and tits wrapped around him and now he wanted more, no he needed more. Needed to feel your pretty little pussy wrapped around him and squeezing him.

Peter makes a quick decision while you’re still coming down from your orgasm and wraps the hand still holding onto you around your waist and twists you both around so that you were now lying on the bed with your legs hanging of bed with your butt just on the edge and he was now kneeling down in front of you with both hands on your knees, holding your legs apart as he eyes up your soaking wet cunt.

It almost makes you feel self-conscious, almost has you trying to squeeze your legs closed but Peter's firm grip and his superhuman strength stops you no matter how hard you strain against him, you simply cannot win against Peter in a battle of pure strength. The self consciousness erodes away and the words of discontent that were forming on your tongue are replaced by a porn-staresque moan as Peter dives in and licks a stripe up your cunt and latches his mouth onto your clit. `The sound causes Peters dick to twitch against his abdomen.

He hums against your clit, the vibrations adding to the immense pleasure you were feeling, and slowly pushes a single digit into your weeping hole to start prepping you to take his cock. He pumps in and out of you, finger curling in and pressing against your gummy walls as he does, you moan at the combined movement and sensation of Peter sucking on your clit and feel the coil in your stomach already start to tighten once again.

Peters free hand trails up your abdomen with a featherlight touch that you barely feel over the pressure of him fucking his finger into you, you really only become aware of his other hand when he pinches at your nipple and pulls at the metal of the piercing, the pain melding in with the pleasure in such a way that your eyes are rolling to the back of your skull and you miss the way Peter stretched you out by entering a second and third finger into you.

The coil in your stomach is impossibly tight, tighter that it ever has been and yet you doesn’t snap as Peter releases your clit with a ‘pop’ but he continues the ministrations with his fingers, rubbing against your most sensitive spot with every thrust, “God princess, you taste absolutely amazing and feel so amazing clenching down on my fingers, I can’t wait to feel you clenching on my cock.”

The praise falling from Peter’s lips goes straight to your head and causes you to clench around his fingers even harder, he presses harder into your g-spot and pulls on your nipples once again causing a wanton moan to fall from your lips, the coil in your stomach starting to reach it’s breaking point. “You gonna cum again baby? Go on, cum all over my fingers and face.” Suddenly Peter’s sucking on your clit once again and your eyes are rolling back in pleasure as it overwhelms you and you see nothing but stars as your orgasm overwhelms your senses.

As you cum all over him, your juices squirting over his fingers and rolling down to his wrist, he removes his fingers and instead starts to lap up everything you have to give him, moving the hand on your nipple down to hold your waist against the bed as you begin to write in overstimulation of Peter tonguing your entrance.

The sound of a whine finally pulls Peter away from your pussy and he stands from where he was kneeling, your juices now coating his mouth from your explosive organism, you look angelic with your hair spread out in a halo around you and a blissed out expression on your face, eyes wide and chest rising up and down rapidly as you try and catch your breath. In between your breaths, you reach out to Peter and he gladly leans in, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down into a passionate kiss that is all teeth and tongue as you try and get as much of Peter as you can.

Peter is the first to pull away from the kiss and starts to trail kisses down your neck, stopping occasionally to bite and suck on your skin leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake. The sensations have you whining, desperate for more as your needy cunt clenches around nothing, “Peter…” Peter smirks into your skin and places a gentle kiss on your collarbone before he rises and stares down at you with a raised eyebrow, “Need you…”

“Need me where princess? Come on baby use your words, tell me what you want”

“Please Peter…I need to feel you inside of me… please please fuck me” Your tone is begging, a whine falling from your lips at the end of the sentence, and who was Peter to deny you when you sounded so pretty begging for him inside you. Peter grips the base of his cock and rubs himself along your fold, coating himself in all your wonderful wetness as a lubricant, as the tip of his cock catches on your clit you let out another whine and Peter smirks at the sound. “Peter…please…enough teasing.”

Peter lines himself up with your entrance and looks up at you for confirmation and as you nod your head he slowly slides himself in, letting out a low groan at the sensation of you stretching and clenching around his cock. It's a groan that is drowned out completely by the moan you let out. Peter moves so slowly you can feel every part of his cock as it rubs inside of you, all the veins and ridges all piling onto the pleasure you’re experiencing and as he bottoms out inside you you let out a small, pleasurable whine.

You have never felt so full before in your life, no other partner you had filled you up just as much as Peter does, and it felt absolutely amazing. With Peter spending time prepping you to take him, you barely feel any pain and it takes only a second of Peter being fully sheathed inside you before you start beginning him to move, it’s a request he’s glad to fulfil as he slowly pulls out before slamming back into you and starting an almost brutal pace.

As Peter thrusts in and out of you at a rapid pace, you wrap your arms around his shoulder and dig your nails into the flesh, the pain of which combines with the pleasure of your cunt squeezing his cock and pulls a deep moan from Peter that has you dragging your nails down his back leaving red marks in your wake to hear it again and again. Your own moans join in with Peters as his cock hits against either your g-spot or your cervix with every thrust, driving you absolutely insane with pleasure to the point that black dots began to gather in your vision as another orgasm rocks through you unexpectedly, a result of combining the after effects of your previous orgasm and the pleasure currently coursing through every nerve in your body.

Peter lets out a deep groan as you clench around him, eyes moving to watch his cock piston in and out of you and at the white ring of your cum that had gathered around the base, “Fuck princess you feel so fucking amazing on my cock, squeezing me so good.” You try and form words, anything to show Peter just how amazing he’s making you feel, but you can’t. The words die in the back of your throat and are instead replaced simply by whines and moans but they’re still sounds that make Peter’s cock twitch inside of you.

Peter continues his assault on your pussy, chasing his own high, the pattern of his thrusts becoming irregular and scattered as he rapidly approaches his own orgasm. “Fuck…princes I’m going to cum” He was going to pull out and cum on your pussy and stomach, never had any intention of cumming inside of you until your soft voice quietly calls out an “inside.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours and something feral reflected in them, “You want me to cum inside you princess? Want me to fill you up?” You nod your head as best you can and Peter slows down his thrust

“Oh God, yes Peter…please fill me with your cum.”

Peter speeds up his thrusts once again, hips slamming hard against your pelvis and balls slamming against your ass, the squelching sound of your pussy and the slapping of skin fills the air and joins the erotic symphony of your combined moans as Peter chases his high, the only thought in his head being how pretty you’re going to look with his cum dripping out of your pussy. It doesn’t take long until Peter trusts become sloppy and he sheathes himself completely inside you, tip of his cock pressed right against your cervix as he shoots rope after rope of hot cum inside of you with a loud groan.

Peter almost collapses on top of you, but he stops himself by placing his forearms by your head and using them to support his weight as his eyes move over your face, watching intently as you catch your breath and slowly come back to reality after three orgasms. He gently brushes one hand across your face in an attempt to ground you and as he cups your cheek to rub a thumb across the skin, you reach for his hand and cup your own around it. “You okay?”

You nod and turn your head to place gentle kisses on the palm of Peter’s hand, which has him smiling down at you gently and placing his own soft kisses against your forehead, “I’m going to pull out, okay?” You nod again, eyelids fluttering slightly and a small whine leaving your lips as Peter removes his cock from inside you, the stimulation a little too much. Peter whispers a gentle “sorry” and places more comforting kisses against your face and shoulders, the hand on your cheek continuing to rub against your skin to try and comfort you.

Peter places a gentle and loving kiss against your lips, the tenderness acting as such a juxtaposition to how deeply and roughly he had been fucking you moments before. You smile into the kiss, hand curling around the back of Peter’s neck to play with the baby hairs at the base. Peter pulls back from the kiss with a smile and pecks your nose gently, the cloudiness that had previously been in your eyes fading slightly as the skin to skin contact you have with him grounds you back to earth.

“Do you need anything? A shower, a bath, snacks?” You take a deep breath, pulling Peter down so he’s even closer and nuzzling into his neck, inhaling his scent as deep as you can and placing a light kiss against the skin, “A bath would be nice.” Your voice comes out soft and just above a whisper, had Peter not been deliberately paying attention he would have missed it.

“Okay princess, let’s run you a bath.” Peter goes to lift of you, but you keep him tight in your grip and wrap your legs around his waist, further restricting him from moving and going to draw you a bath. You let out a noise of discontent as he tries to pull away once again and Peter chuckles slightly at the sound. If you weren’t willing to let him go, then he was just going to have to carry you, which he did as he wrapped and arm around your waist for extra support and stood with you in his arms.

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll take good care of you”

---

Tony approaches Natasha at the bar, wanting a drink but also a little curious as to where you had disappeared too. You were on his arm when you both entered the party, though you quickly separated from him to go and socialise with people your own age after you had greeted all the necessary benefactors and he remembers seeing you with Parker briefly and then with America and Shang-Chi, it was their first Avengers formal event so he assumed you were reassuring them, but he hadn’t seen you since and he was getting just a little worried.

Nat, having seen Tony on his way towards her, places a glass of scotch, neat, on the bar top and smirks to herself as he grabs the glass and downs it in on go before he starts questioning her. “Have you seen my daughter?”

Natasha lets out a small hum and leans forward on the bar, using her forearms to support her weight as she does so, “I might have.” Tony rolls his eyes at the Widow and lets out a huff of air, placing his empty glass down with a little more force than necessary.  Natahsa’s smirk grows into a knowing smile as she glances to the door that both you and a certain spiderling had disappeared out of about 2 hours earlier and had yet to return from. Tony follows her gaze and he feels his heart tightening at the thought you had left with someone, “She left with someone?”

Natasha nods her head, “‘Bout 2 hours ago.” Horror slowly fills Tony, you would only be away for that long for one reason and one reason only and it was not one he was ready to consider for you. Despite being 21 years old, you were still hes sweet, little girl and the thought of you being sexually active was horrifying. Not only that, most people here that weren’t members of the Avengers were his age and older and he did not want you mixed up with them and there were very few members of the Avengers around your age, well specifically one and as the thought crossed his mind Tony started to glare at nothing, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he did so, “Parker”

Natasha laughed at Tony, a full belly laugh that had her throwing her head back as she did. After she settled down her laughter enough, she was able to grab onto Tony's shoulder to stop him from storming into your bedroom and seeing something he really did not want to see, “Oh come on. They’re young, let them have their fun.” Tony huffed out once again, as Pepper's voice filled his ears. He hadn’t even noticed her coming up beside him and taking his hand in hers to calm him down, though his temper flares again as Natasha speaks up once again.

“At least it’s not Barnes she’s running off with.”