The Starker group chat is the best worst influence so hereâs some size kink âNot completely canon in that thereâs no Civil War, Tony just wants to keep this crazy kid safe. It doesnât quite go how he expected it to.Â
Dedicated to the trash can that is the Starker chat, all the dumbass antis watching it like a Jeffree Star palette release and all the funky little fellow trash bags below that got my fanfic urges raging harder than a puberty morning boner.Â
I high-key hate this so expect more size kink in the future to make me feel better.Â
TW: Mild choking | Size kink | Slight D/s | Under-negotiated kink (but consensual) | Breathplay if you squint
@lesbianstarker @cherrypeter @the-mad-starker @lover-starker @starkerintheparker @sunnystarkerr @chi-the-queen @salmonmander
Iron Man was sat on his couch. Eating walnut loaf. Chatting to his Aunt, like he was an Uncle or family friend swung by in their way home.
Peter nearly dropped the DVD player, jaw dropping as he screeched to a halt on the hideous green carpet. He could feel his stomach twisting, his braincells running around and screaming and his heart thumping at his ribs like a racehorse.
He couldnât throw up in front of Iron Man.
âUh⌠What? I mean, hey? Hi. Um-â He cut himself off with a huff, blinking at the way the corner of Tonyâs mouth curled up into a sly, well hidden smirk.
âOh, Mr. Parker,â he greeted smoothly, as though only just noticing the fact that Peter had arrived. Tonyâs head lifted and tipped, eyeing him across the room with an amused, knowing gaze. Peter had to force himself to relax his grip on the player when it gave the faintest of creaks.
âHey! Iâm - Iâm - Hi. Mr. Stark. Peter. Iâm - What are youâŚWhy are you here?â he staggered out, arms falling as he tried to compute the fact that Iron Man was sat on his couch.
And Iron Man looked good.
He was wearing a sharp cut, fitted suit the colour of charcoal and his fluffy, dark hair swept across his head. His voice was a silken purr and the only thing out of place was the angry, black eye when Tony turned his head fully.
â"I was just waiting for you, actually. Youâre late. Thankfully, your gorgeous Aunt here had some delicious walnut loaf to keep me occupied,â Tony drawled, fingers dipping the slice of loaf in his grasp. It was almost enough to make Peter laugh.
Tony was either an amazing actor, or his life experiences had burnt off his tastebuds. Aunt Mayâs walnut loaf tasted like if youâd scraped the burnt oil off a pan, ground some walnuts into it, spat on it, fried it a little, then rubbed it in dirt. Regardless, Aunt May giggled like she was 12 and nursing a crush, waving a hand to dismiss the lie.
âUh, Mr- Mr. Stark. What are you doing here?â he managed to wheeze out, still unable to tear his gaze from the way the man eyed him. Cocky. Amused. Daring.
He knew there was only one legitimate reason that Tony Stark would be sat on his couch.
Was he in trouble? Was this a threat? A cease and desist? Had he accidentally hurt someone? Oh my god.
âI figured it was about time we met,â Tony replied evenly, and Peterâs heart plummeted. Oh god. He was right. They were gonna take him away. Aunt May would know. Peter was going to jail and -
âYouâve been getting my emails, right? Iâve been signing them personally. And writing them. Y'know, about that grant you applied for?â
Tony winked once with his left eye, then with his right, out of sight of his Aunt, who twisted to Peter with a star-struck expression.
âYou never told me you applied for a grant!â she beamed, and Peter balked. He didnât even know heâd applied for a grant. How could he tell her about something he didnât even know heâd done?
âThe grant,â he replied weakly, trying to prod his brain into functioning. âRight. Yeah.â
âLook at him. So star struck heâs forgotten why Iâm here. The September Foundation, darling. You applied. I approved,â he announced, like it was a thing Peter should have known, like heâd forgotten his keys on his way out the door.
âThe - the Foundation. Of course, yeah. I applied for that,â he agreed easily, folding his arms. Was this code? A cipher for hey, I know youâre Spiderman. Iâm here to lock you up forever.
âHow come you never told me you applied for a grant? Are you entering the âkeeping secretsâ phase?â Aunt May huffed at him, but she didnât seem angry. How could she be, sat next to the richest and hottest man in America?
âI - I just⌠Surprises! I know you love surprises. And I wanted toâŚI figured youâd be proud⌠So what exactly did I get approved for?â he quizzed, turning his gaze back to Tony, who was watching him the way a lion might watch a trapped antelope.
âWell, Mr. Parker. Thatâs why Iâm here. You applied. I approved. Thatâs means weâre in business. Together,â Tony said pointedly, eyeing him over the rim of what was probably the ugliest coffee mug in history.
Yeah. This was definitely not about a grant that Peter never applied for.
âThis date loaf is something else,â Tony remarked, waggling the slice that had exactly one bite taken out of it. âI canât decide if itâs the baking, or the fact it was made by an insanely hot woman.â
Aunt May went scarlet and grinned at him, and Peter had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and blanch. He couldnât decide what was worse, his hero and crush lying about date loaf, or his hero and crush calling his Aunt hot.
âMrs. Parker, do you mind if I have some time with Mr. Parker, to discuss the finer details?â Tony remarked, glancing across at May with a sweet look.
âItâs just Ms. Iâm not married,â Aunt May corrected, but he suspected Tony knew that, and he was assured when Tony gave her a wicked smile.Â
âWell, my day just keeps getting luckierâ he purred, rising to his feet.
Peterâs disgust at the blatant flirting was almost enough to distract him from following the unfolding rise of Tonyâs body.
And not nearly enough to have his breath hitching when his gaze trailed past a long, trim torso to land on an unmistakable bulge. Peter nearly went a little cross-eyed, caught between horror at the thought that Tony Stark was hard over his Aunt, and the low spike in his gut at the sight of the impressive bulk.
âMr. Parker,â Tony crawled with slow, knowing amusement. Peter forced his gaze upwards, swallowing thickly at the way Tony quirked a brow at him. âPerhaps somewhere more⌠Private?â he suggested, and Peterâs knees almost buckled.
