I'm always thinking about tony cupping peter's cheek, rubbing his thumb over those sharp cheekbones and smooth skin, lifting his chin up so that he can those baby brown eyes look up at him all wide and lovely and just murmuring, "god, you're so pretty"
Does anyone else think Peter was trying to spare Tony's feelings, when he asked "This was a test right?"
He knew what a big moment that was, and probably realised that he might have hurt Tony's feelings. Because to me, it seemed to become more personal when Tony said,"You turning me down?" Him specifically. Not the opportunity, but him. And I think that the fact Tony removed his glasses, made it more personal, especially when he then followed it up by "Look at me."
They'd just had that awkward moment of Tony fumbling physical affection and explaining the 'tough love' of taking away Peter's suit. And most of that conversation was Tony trying to reassure himself that he'd done the right thing. He's trying to establish a more personal connection between them. And I think Tony finds that daunting. So when Tony then metaphorically put his heart out there in the form of a new suit and position, only to have Peter decline the offer, I imagine he felt a little rejected.
So yeah, I think Peter realised that Tony had put himself on the line, and worried that he might have knocked the older man a little when he refused to become an avenger. So he gives Tony an out. "It was just a test."
And of course Tony takes it, and is like, "Yep! A test. Good job on passing."
awh man starker is SOOOO gross you lil sucker (IM SORRY I JUST WANT A DRABBLE)
Peter accidentally on purpose sends Tony a nude. Not super vulgar, a tasteful nude, one that Peter took of himself sat back on his haunches and hiding his cock behind his arm. Nearly 10 minutes go by after the text is sent, and Peter starts to freak out, texting Tony, “I’m so sorry that was for someone else.” Tony responds within seconds. “Who?” Peter panics for an answer before receiving another message. He looks at the picture, his mouth falling open at the view of Tony’s hard cock, held up out of the zipper by his hand. Peter is quick to respond, snapping a picture of his cock lying against his stomach, precum dribbling onto his skin. A few minutes go by before Peter gets another message, a selfie of Tony with white stripes over the front of his silk shirt, sending the camera a smoldering stare. Peter can’t take his eyes off of it, stroking himself fervently. He comes with a whine, only giving himself a few seconds to recover before he sends Tony a selfie back, all red faced and covered with come.
Teen alpha Tony is jealous of his baby brother Harley, because mommy omega Peter is breastfeeding him with his tiny pink tits which are lightly swollen and leaking with hot, sweet milk. So he just walks over his mama, and wraps his lips around the free nipple with a deep grunt to assert his possession and territory - and also to get a taste of his mommy. Then Peter pets his older son's hair, humming a lullaby, as Tony closes his eyes and moans in delight, hands on the omega's waist in a firm hold.
You can wash your eyes with holy water now :)
I… 😳
How on earth did you know I’ve been in the mood for Teenkercest? (Or at least Tony x Peter x Harley)
With a dash of age swap and omegaverse— oh my gosh. Mommy!Peter is really really the good stuff. Especially with Alpha!Tony oh wow
I’m pretty sure a mother’s milk lasts as long as someone is there to nurse. So I can imagine Tony nursing off of mommy!Peter far longer than Harley actually needs, unaware of how deeply he’s drawn to the omega, how bonded they actually are.
LINK TO AO3 // for @starkerfestivals | fill: love note
In which Tony realizes that Peter’s not as innocent as he seems. He doesn’t have an angel on his hands—he has a needy little slut.
Tony leaves love notes on Peter’s body.
He could use a marker if he wanted to. But why would he do that when he has his mouth?
Peter marks up so easily, it’s always so gratifying to hear his little mewls and see the red marks left on his skin when Tony pulls back after applying himself to his craftsmanship.
Peter always begs Tony for more, more, more.
Tony remembers a time when Peter was shy. When Peter couldn’t even look him in the eye, couldn’t even whisper, “Daddy,” while Tony pressed him into the mattress, slow and hot, hips rolling, skin on skin.
Tony remembers a time when he thought Peter was a sweet, soft little thing, when he thought Peter was so innocent that he was a fucking angel from heaven, one that he could corrupt and mould into whatever he wanted.
And Peter was that, Peter was all of those things, made for him, practically, but he wasn’t innocent, and he wasn’t an angel.
Tony remembers a time when his hands were roaming, exploring, claiming, remembers how he’d stroked over Peter’s hips and ribs and shoulders ever so gently, bending down to mouth at his shoulder until he nipped, possessively, unable to help himself, only encouraged when Peter let out the prettiest noise he’d ever heard. And Peter had— he had begged, had wanted more, so Tony had provided.
Tony remembers flipping him over, rougher than he’d intended to in the heat of the moment, hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, remembers seeing the dazed expression on Peter’s face, remembers jerking back from him like he’d been burned, lips parting to utter an apology, and remembers hearing Peter gasp, “Please!”
And that was when Tony had realized that he didn’t have an angel on his hands. Quite the opposite, really.
And Peter had nodded, eyes wide and blown, and Tony had felt something awaken inside him at the realization that Peter was— that he liked things rough, that his soft exterior didn’t mean he was just a poor little lamb for slaughter.
Tony remembers a time when he’d treated Peter like glass, not wanting to hurt him, not wanting to be bad for him.
And he can’t remember the last time he’d done that.
Because now, he’s more than willing to manhandle Peter. Now, he grips his hips hard enough to bruise while snapping his hips forward, jostling his entire body and making him let out small, “Ungh, ungh, ungh’s,” making him beg, making him cry, making him come. Now, Tony lets a hand crack down on his ass, admires his handprint, rakes his nails down over the mark to create four white rivers against the red, snakes a hand up to his hair to grip and tug, ripping hoarse pants from Peter’s throat.
Now, Tony knows that he doesn’t have an angel on his hands.
Now, when Peter begs, Tony croons, “Oh, you sweet poor thing, you need it that badly?” He fists a hand in Peter’s curls, making it burn, guides him close enough so that his lips barely graze his cock, just enough so that he can get what he wants without really getting anything, and takes in the way the boy pants desperately, lips parting, like he’s nothing but a cock-stupid toy, made for Tony’s amusement.
It makes Peter’s face twist in frustration, in agony, in need, and Tony likes that. Likes making him cry, likes cooing, “That’s okay, sweetheart, you can cry those rivers for them crocodiles, little crocodile tears, give ‘em something to swim in, Daddy’s so mean to you, isn’t he?” before pounding into his sweet, tight hole hard enough to make him sob all over again. He likes feeling Peter shudder and clench around his cock when he reaches down to jerk him off, brushing a thumb over his sensitive slit, likes teasing him for hours and hours, gives him a smack of two and watches in admiration as his cock drools pre-come in response.
And when Peter finally shoots strings of white and collapses onto the bed, body limp from exhaustion, Tony will press flush against him and nip and bite and suck and mark his pretty skin up, makes it hurt in all the right ways.
Tony leaves all sorts of love notes on Peter’s skin.
Peter, before his first time with Tony: wait! okay so I just wanna let you know that I’m like, pretty much silent? in bed, I mean. like I don’t moan or swear or talk dirty or anything I just kinda breathe heavy?? so I’m sorry if that’s not what you want or what you’re used to and I can totally try to do it if you want me to, it’s just—
Tony, smiling: Shhh Peter, kid, it’s okay, it’s okay. More than okay. The only thing I need to know is that you’re havin’ a good time, alright? As long as you let me know that, we’re golden. And don’t you dare fake anything in here. I want the real deal and nothing else. Got it?
Peter, blushing: Y-yes, Mr. Stark. Got it.
————————
Rhodey, exhausted, nursing his morning coffee: Soundproof walls, Tones. You’re installing soundproof walls by tonight, or so help me—
Peter, mortified: ohmygod Colonel Rhodes I’m SO sorry—
Tony, cocky: I’m not.
Natasha, not looking up from her magazine: honestly, it was kind of impressive
“Uhm- Mr Stark- I think... there’s someone with you.” A student points out, interrupting Tony in the middle of explanation the model on his third PowerPoint page. However, Tony doesn’t hear them at first, so other students start exclaiming.
“Oh my God!”
“Uhm...”
“Is that... Mr Parker?!”
There, in all his naked glory, Peter’s stood in the middle of the hallway, right outside Tony’s open office door. Of course, the bastard has got his AirPods in and can’t hear anything.
“Peter! Peter, get-”
Without hearing Tony, Peter carries on down the hall, but the damage is done already. Thank fuck at least that Tony doesn’t allow recordings of his classes. Still, Tony turns to his class, stunned. They look just as stunned as he does.
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