starker and horny shit and incest and filth here. if you got something negative to say just do me a favor and don't lol :: king-of-kaoss.tumblr.com is my main :: and i make things at forged-in-kaoss.tumblr.com :: for starker content ive written check the 'fic' tag off my pinned post, also feel free to send me prompts
A scene from chapter 5 of You're Not Yet Done by @ursafootprints [i.e. my absolute favorite starker fic]
"It wasn't your fault," he snapped. "You didn't do anything wrong. It would have happened anyway, okay, because it was him and not you, but you act like-- you still act like I don't want you around or something, or like I'm afraid of you or whatever, like you can't get close or I'll freak out which is so stupid because I'm the one that keeps pushing--"
"You flinched," Tony said in the pause between one word and the next, and then he flinched himself, like his own words came as a shock.
Peter went still, a beat behind in processing the abrupt change of gears, the tidal wave of anger in him warring with an opposing gale of confusion.
"What?" He said, finally, when even after a few moments of heavy silence he still couldn't pin down what Mr. Stark meant.
Mr. Stark closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face, but his voice wasn't muffled at all when he said, "The day after. When you found me in the hallway after I ran out at breakfast, I was going to touch your shoulder and you flinched."
Peter's mind picked out the memory and played it back-- standing in front of Mr. Stark with Westcott's voice in his head and seeing Mr. Stark reach for him, and wanting that touch so badly that he gasped--
All of his anger drained away in a dizzying swoop of mortification instead, and Peter retreated a step, cheeks burning.
"That-- that wasn't. A flinch," he said, because he had to, because he couldn't keep letting Mr. Stark beat himself up over scaring him or whatever he was thinking, but he kind of wanted to sink through the floor as he said it.
Mr. Stark stopped short of rolling his eyes, but he raised his eyebrows sardonically with a disbelieving frown in that way that screamed stop bullshitting me without him ever saying a word.
Peter raised his chin automatically with a reflexive stubbornness, and somehow forced himself to say, "It wasn't! It was, like."
He paused, and swallowed hard, the tingling burn in his cheeks creeping all the way up to his ears. It felt so fucking embarrassing to admit, but, like-- Mr. Stark had to know, right? He'd heard Peter invite him to bed. He'd seen-- he'd felt-- the way Peter had reacted to him, in the cell. He had to already know. He just wasn't connecting the dots for this particular situation, but he had to know.
"Anticipation," Peter finally admitted, mumbling it towards the ground.
Tony was quiet for long enough that Peter risked a glance, crossing his arms for the limited strength that could give him, but Tony looked so sincerely lost even with that explanation that Peter realized with a jolt-- maybe he hadn't known.
"It just," Peter started to explain, unfolding his arms. "It just, it was. It was, like, a-- a good sound. I thought-- you wouldn't--"
Once he got started, the rest of the words came bursting out of him, and Peter wrung his hands and retreated another two strides until he was pressed back against the table again as he blurted, "I thought you wouldn't even want to look at me, forget anything else, after I'd been-- such a weird clingy freak-- I thought you'd be embarrassed of me, so when you--"
"No," Tony said, strained, "no, no, Peter," and he crossed the space between them before Peter could process it and reached to gather up one of Peter's hands in both of his.
Peter felt his tension drop away at the warm press of Mr. Stark's hands enveloping his, even as his eyes prickled with tears at that shameful confession, and he took a shaky breath as he looked up into Mr. Stark's pain-creased face.
"No, Peter, never, why would I-- you're perfect," and Peter saw it hit Mr. Stark at the same time it went through him like lightning, the memory of the last time Mr. Stark had said those words to him. Mr. Stark took his own unsteady breath though, and rallied, pressing on, "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm not-- at you-- I'm who you should be--"
"Oh my god," Peter growled, abruptly furious, and he clutched Mr. Stark's hands to his chest as he surged to his feet, so they were only inches apart. "Why are you so hard on yourself-- you're not listening to me, you're so caught up in your weird guilt thing that you're not even-- I don't care if you touch me."
Mr. Stark's expression was a picture of perfect shock.
"I want you to touch me," Peter said, something heavy and relentless in his chest desperate to come out.
Mr. Stark's heartbeat was fast, fast, fast.
"I'd let you do way more than touch my shoulder or ruffle my hair," Peter said, quieter.
He should stop. He knew he should stop. But--
There wasn't any anger left in him when Peter admitted, whisper-soft, "I wish you would."
Mr. Stark was utterly still. He didn't step away, and he didn't loosen his hands around Peter's, and he didn't part his lips to tell Peter what a creepy spoiled brat he was being. He just stared at Peter in helpless shock while his heart banged in his ribcage.
I feel like we as starker fans underestimate the power of a sir kink. like 9/10 times iâll be reading a smut fic and itâll nearly always have a daddy kink in it, but what about a sir kink!
think of peter who has always called tony mr stark ever since he was a kid, but now heâs in tonyâs bed it just slips out out of habit, him moaning at the peak of his orgasm âSir!â and doesnât that just throw tony off the edge as well.
âitâs 6:30, weâre gonna-ah-gonna be late!â dennis exclaimed.
michael kept moving his hand up and down, but brought his head out from dennisâs neck. âitâs fine, jack can clock in for you.â
dennis panted and squirmed, always so sensitive. he woke up to robby jerking him off after his alarm didnât sound. stupid apple.
âhow-oh shit!â dennis couldnât think straight when robby picked up the pace. he was leaking enough to where it was all wet and slick. âhow-how will jack know to do that?â
dennis didnât want to get written up for going past the seven minute grace period. thatâs what he was whining at, surely. not the overwhelming sensation of robbyâs big hand on him.
âiâll call him.â robby let go to roll over and reach for his phone. dennis took the opportunity to catch his breath. he clicked on abbotâs contact and dennis could hear the phone trilling. âhey, brother, howâs it going?â
then robby did something evil, he put his hand back on dennis while abbot answered.
dennis shoved a hand over his mouth to contain his noises while robby listened to jack describe his night. dennis whispered, âstop, oh my god,â through his fingers, hoping the microphone didnât pick it up.
âyeah, i was wondering if you could do me a favorâŠâ robby squeezed dennisâs dick a little and he gasped through his nose.
a tinny voice was heard saying, âdepends.â
âjust light time theft,â robby joked and then pressed a silent kiss to dennis jaw. âim gonna be like thirty,â he looked at dennis who was humping into his hand, âhonestly, probably just fifteen minutes late. could you clock in the kid for me to. donât ask.â
jack chuckled, âi donât think i wanna know anyway.â
dennis writhed at the diminutive tones. he couldnât believe this was doing it for him. well, he could, but this was crazy.
robby kept his punishing pace, looking dennis in the eyes while he asked his friend, â you coming over for the game tonight?â
âwouldnât miss it,â jack replied. dennis started hitting robbyâs arm, urging him to hang up. he was close. âfocus on the task at hand though. see you soon.â
âyup, see ya.â he threw the phone down on the covers. âsuch a good boy, letting me talk on the phone like that.â
dennis huffed out, âyouâre evil.â
âyouâre close. cum.â and dennis did. it was like all those desperate noises he was holding back came out. oh my godâs and oh oh ohâs and even daddy, all drawn out and wet sounding. robby checked the time as he licked his hand. âonly 6:38. if we get dressed quick, we might be on time.â
then, the phone that robby kept on max volume all the time had a faint voice come from it, âdo i get a turn during halftime? or are you both just teases?â
this is my little way of celebrating 2000 followers on here. crazy! giving each and every one of you smooches.
Tony suddenly sees a lot of people shipping him with Peter
He never thought about it and itâs not like he has a moment and is suddenly in love with him or like he suddenly canât live without him anymore
But he is intrigued
So he decides to got to Peter and just start the conversation with âso a lot of people are shipping us⊠wanna try and see if theyâre onto something?â
nobility au were tony is prince and peter is a servant, often tending to the stark's for meals. king Howard is a drunkard, and overly concerned with tony's image ahead of an arranged marriage. he knows Tony is spending time in brothels, and is concerned about the repercussions. he tells Tony to just take a concubine. "Come here, boy," he says, and again, more terse, when Peter freezes like a deer while pouring wine for the queen. he grabs Peter by the chin. "This is the one you're making eyes at all the time, isn't it?" howard asks Tony, and Tony doesn't say anything, for once. "Bathe and dress him, send him to my sons room. Done. No more brothels."
So they bathe and dress him, and peter is shaking like a leaf, and they guide him to the prince's chambers and tony is at his writing desk and looks up, spooked, like he hadn't thought Peter would actually be brought to him. Peter doesn't look at him, even as the guards leave, and he clutches his robe around himself until Tony stands up and peter has to think about Tony doing it for him. And he shoves the robe down like ripping the bandage. And it's just as quiet as it had been at dinner.
tony tells Peter to sleep in the bed as he has work to finish. peter doesn't sleep, but he pretends, and tony doesn't sleep either, at work at his bench until the sun rises.
peter thinks, blessedly, that's the end of it, but Howard finds out that Tony didn't take peter and has peter sent in again, shaking, AGAIN, and the guards note they're required to observe and confirm.
and, well, they don't have a choice. peter thought maybe princes would have more choices, but Tony's face is horrified, and peter can barely hold himself together. "It'll be okay," tony whispers, after offering to pay the guards a handsome sum and being denied. peter doesn't blame them -- gold can't be spent once you've been beheaded. "I'll take care of you."
Peter is at his very first college party. Heâs mostly sitting around with his friends so he doesnât think much about it when this guy he barely knows asks if anyone wants something to drink
Peter asks for a glass of water and the dude goes to get his water and a few other drinks for other friends
But then when Peter takes the first sip of his water it tastes kind of weird and bitter
He doesnât want to be impolite so he occasionally sips from his water and continues talking with his friends
But then he starts feeling weird and woozy and when he goes to the bathroom to splash some water in his face the dude follows him and asks if everything is alright and suddenly Peter feels paranoid and sure this guy put something in his drink
So he does the only thing he can think of: text Tony
Of course he hoped Tony would come to help him but he didnât expect him to come in barely 10 minutes later, blasting through a window in his iron man armor and immediately threatening everyone to step back from Peter
Itâs even worse when it turns out that the reason for the weird taste and Peterâs feelings were that the host of the party, in an effort to seems fancy, put some mint leaves in the water and Peter was simply having a spider-mint reaction
Peter doesnât know if he wants to swoon out of admiration of Tony immediately saving him or die of embarrassment
Peterâs fever makes the world feel underwaterâsounds muffled, edges blurred. He vaguely registers Tonyâs hand on his forehead, cool and steady.
âHey,â Tony murmurs. âYou with me, sweetheart?â
Peter hums something that might be yes. Heâs twenty-three, an Avenger, technically very capable. Right now, heâs wrapped in three blankets and losing a fight with the flu.
Tony presses a mug to his lips. âSlow. Itâs just tea. No nanites. Promise.â
Peter manages a weak smile and sips, then immediately leans into Tonyâs side like itâs muscle memory. Tony freezes for half a secondâthen relaxes, arm coming around him without thinking.
âYou should be in the lab,â Peter mumbles.
âI am,â Tony says. âThis is advanced field research on stubborn superhumans who refuse to rest.â
Peter laughs, which turns into a cough. Tony rubs slow circles between his shoulder blades until it passes.
âStay?â Peter asks, quiet, vulnerable in a way he rarely lets himself be.
Tony kisses his hair, careful, reverent. âIâm not going anywhere.â
Peterâs breathing evens out soon after, warm and solid against Tonyâs chest. Tony stays still, watching the rise and fall, thinkingâabsentlyâthat saving the world can wait a few hours.
Peter is a virgin and heâs absolutely terrified that getting fucked will hurt
He doesnât want it to hurt and he doesnât think heâd be able to handle it
Luckily he has Tony whoâs always empathetic and patient with him. Even when Peter once again made him all hot and bothered only to back out at the last second
Tonyâs never pressured him and always accepts every single ânoâ immediately. Heâs always careful and soft, making sure not to do anything that might ever hurt Peter
And then comes the day Peter finally dares to see this all the way through
And itâs good. It really is but thereâs a second there, when Tony looses his grip and goes just a little bit too fast and causes this tiny sharp pain to spike in Peter
Tony immediately draws back and apologizes, continuing more careful when Peter gives the go
But Peter just lies there and is suddenly completely distracted
Because that pain felt good. Like really good. And maybe he was imagining this whole thing completely wrong
