Just a little fic inspired the winter weather here in Wisconsin
Peter x Tony, A little NFF. Enjoy!
———
A mug appeared in front of Tony as he stared at his phone. He glanced up at Peter, who was smiling softly, and took the cup. It was nice and warm in his hand, steaming too. “Thanks,” he said. “Coffee?”
“Hot chocolate,” Peter replied. He had his own mug in both hands, little marshmallows floating on the top on his. “I needed something hot in my hands.” He settled on the sofa and stared at the fireplace across from it. Peter sipped his hot chocolate and hummed happily.
Tony held his mug in one hand and scrolled through his phone. “They’re cancelling flights for the next few days,” he said.
Peter hummed again. He tucked his feet up on the couch and tugged a blanket over himself. He was still watching the fire roaring, eyes half-lidded.
“It’s apparently going to keep snowing for the next day at least...” Tony added.
Peter sipped at his drink again. Tony tore his eyes away from the phone to take the boy in. He was curled up in his blanket, cozy and holding his hot chocolate in hands. “You’re not even listening,” Tony said.
“I am...” Peter insisted. His eyes drifted over to Tony.
“But you’re not worried?” Tony asked. “We’re going to be trapped in this cabin for at least a week.”
“Oh no,” Peter monotoned, eyeing Tony with a little smirk, “Trapped in a cabin with nothing to keep me warm but my boyfriend. Absolutely terrible.”
Tony frowned at him and put his cup down. “I had plans to be back in New York,” he grumbled.
Peter finally set his mug down on the coffee table and turned toward Tony. “Poor you,” he said softly. “Plans ruined.”
Tony rolled his eyes. He switched back to the radar on his phone, watching the snow moving across the screen. He didn’t notice Peter moving from his place on the sofa toward the fire. He refreshed the flight cancellations and then began reading the news. Power outages, roadway backups... it was bad out there.
“Tony...” Peter called him. It looked like the whole east coast was getting hit by this blizzard. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to dig themselves out of here. So much for Northwoods weekend... they might be here all month.
“Tony,” Peter called to him again.
“Hm?” Tony replied.
“Put the phone down and look at me,” the boy said.
Tony glanced his direction. He nearly dropped his phone as he saw Peter lying in front of the fireplace. The boy had removed almost all of his layers, stripped down to just a long sweater and his fuzzy socks. He was resting back on the rug, propped up on his elbows, long legs on display. He shifted just slightly, showing the man he was lacking boxer briefs as well. Tony’s eyes roamed over Peter’s body easily, and was beginning to forget why he needed to leave the cabin to get home.
His soft skinned boyfriend lying out in front of him, ready and willing. He was glowing under the light of the fireplace, displayed like a feast. Peter smirked when Tony’s eyes met his again.
But then pursed his lips into his trademark bratty, little pout. “What’s so bad about being trapped here?” He teased. “I’m not complaining. I’ve got you… so come keep me warm,” he said softly, his legs spreading open just a bit.
Tony set his phone down and nodded, a little speechless and dumfounded. He joined Peter on the floor, happy to put his arms around the boy. He kissed Peter eagerly, grinning as he moaned against Tonys lips. He felt Peter tug at his shirt and began grinding their hips together. He stripped himself quickly and sucked at Peter’s throat. Snowed in really wasn’t so bad, Tony decided.
Prompt: every time tony and peter work on improving peter’s web fluid, they test it out by tying Peter up :)
Sorry for the wait, nonny. This ended up being a bit long and I lowkey want to make a part two because this doesn’t feel steamy enough. Idk, you let me know if I need to crank up the steam levels.
-
On the Edge of Discovery
“Mr. Stark!” Peter called through the thick glass of the Tower’s lab, tapping rhythmically with one hand and clinging to the pane with the other. He tugged off his mask, letting the wind wisp through his slightly sweat-damp curls. Only a few moments ago, he was out on patrol but after stopping a bank robbery and keeping a train from careening off its tracks, the city had gone mostly silent. On days like this, he liked to visit his mentor. “Mr. Stark, are you there?” He started knocking again. “Hey! Mr. Stark!” Without warning, the glass shifted, slowly rotating inward and locking into place with a resonating click! Inside, Tony was hunched over his desk, tinkering with the Iron Man helmet. “Mr. Stark!” Peter joyously called out once again, pleased to be let inside as he climbed across the ceiling and lowered himself upside-down by a rope of web fluid. “Mr. Stark-”
Tony glanced up, face-to-face with the spider kid’s inverted visage. “Getting someone to scream my name that many times usually requires a bit more effort.”
Peter laughed as he flipped sideways off of the web, landing gracefully in the lab stool across from his mentor. “Sorry, sorry, I actually came here because I have a question for you.”
“Okay,” Tony raised a single brow, putting his screwdriver down and relegating his full attention to the kid. “Shoot.”
“So today,” Peter began, hands already gesturing wildly as he spoke. “There was this huge train – very fast, extremely heavy, tons of people on it—“
“Sounds like most trains,” Tony jested.
“—exactly! But this train malfunctioned. Controls? Useless. People? In danger. Train? It was flying off the rails, literally and figuratively.”
“This is some riveting narration, kid.”
“Thanks, I try,” Peter quipped, smiling when Tony smiled. “Anyway, I tried using my web fluid to slow down the train, which it should and kind of did, but the strands started snapping and I needed to use like half a cartridge to stop one train,” He stressed his point, dramatically holding up his index finger. “What if more trains need stopping? What if the sky opens up and aliens rain down from the great beyond on the same day? What if a cat is stuck in a tree, Mr. Stark? I’ll be out of web fluid before I know it!”
Tony snorted, reaching for his neglected screwdriver and easing back into his tinkering. “And I suppose you have a solution to this problem you’ve fabricated.”
“That’s rich coming from the king of fabricating problems,” Peter teased, leaning forward to observe his mentor’s skilled hands as they worked. “Exactly how many suits have you built now? Hundred? Thousand? Ten thousand? Stop me when I get near the right significant figures.”
“Watch it, kid,” Tony retorted, the subtle threat hidden just beyond his grin.
Peter gave a grin of his own, causally reaching inside the toolbox on the desk and handing Tony a wireless soldering iron, knowing from his observations that his mentor would need that next. “I need you to help me perfect the web fluid formula.”
“Perfect it?” Tony asked, taking the soldering iron with an impressed expression. “Alright, exactly how much perfecting does it need? It can stop a train. I’ve seen you pin Barnes and Capsicle with the stuff… hm, what about you? Can it stop you?”
Peter paused, brow furrowing, “No, I don’t think so.”
“Well,” Tony nodded as he concluded his soldering. “Then let’s get to work.”
*~*~*
“What’s wrong, kid?” Tony asked, raising his eyebrow but not bothering to glance in Peter’s direction. Instead, he kept his focus on the beaker, carefully mixing the viscous fluid so that it didn’t expand.
“I can’t move,” Peter whispered, more desperately than Tony would have imagined but he chalked it up to a general surprise. After all, this was the first iteration of their test fluid that actually managed to restrain him. “Mr. Stark...” The kid whined this time – definitely not just surprise. “I can’t move.”
“Well, that was the desired outcome,” Tony pointed out as he carefully condensed the fluid into a cartridge, focusing on keeping his movements steady so the lab wasn’t coated with webbing.
“No, Mr. Stark, I- this is...a lot...I’m- I can’t-” Peter was squirming, the webbing locked around his arms and torso shaking with each jerked motion. “Dissolve it, please.”
“Sure, kid, but why—” Tony sealed the cartridge and grabbed the solvent off the desk, finally giving Peter his attention. “–Oh.” He hummed, his gaze traveling from Peter’s wet eyes to his struggling torso to his svelte waist. “Are we talking about this?” He asked as he sprayed the solvent against the binding webs. “Or is this one of those things we ignore?”
Peter responded instantly with some frantic amalgamation of yes and no before settling for a defeated, “I don’t know.” His face started turning red, or redder, considering the tomato hue flushing his cheeks. “This doesn’t usually happen. I don’t know why I’m- ugh, I’m sorry, I- I should go.” He tucked his head in shame, covering his tenting groin with one hand and hiding his shameful expression with the other.
“Hold on, kid,” Tony reached out, gently grabbing Peter’s arm. “You don’t have to be sorry for popping a boner at eighteen,” He explained, attempting to be as comforting as possible. “It’s natural and all that.”
Peter shook his head, shyly lifting his blushing face. “It’s not that...I think I- what I mean is that I- with the web fluid being stronger than me, it’s weird...it makes me feel weird.”
“So you discovered your kink in an awkward situation?” Tony casually asked. “Happens to the best of us.”
“M-My kink?” Peter’s eyes went wide. “Mr. Stark, I don’t... do I... have a kink?”
“Getting tied up is a common one,” Tony let his mouth run, probably more than he should have. “Power imbalance, submission, sensory deprivation. There’s a world of things you don’t know about, kid. I would say use the internet but the very responsible adult-thing to say would be to talk to someone about it.”
Peter nodded, flashing his mentor vulnerable eyes, “Can I talk to you?”
“No,” Tony immediately answered, stepping back towards the work desk to finish loading the cartridges. “I meant a counselor or something. I’m disqualified because I’m your-”
“Mentor?” Peter interrupted. “You’re always teaching me stuff so why not this?”
“And what exactly do you expect me to do?” Tony stressed. “In case you weren’t following, I’m not the best person to explain sex, kid. Ask your aunt, ask your friends – hell, ask Cap, he did those PSAs back in the day – just not me.”
“Maybe you can tie me up again,” Peter offered. “O-Or I could do it myself! I just need someone to let me out that won’t judge me or...I don’t know. Am I being weird? It’s just because I would break through normal ropes. Oh god, I am being weird, aren’t I? Fuck, something’s wrong with me. I’m sick, I- I’m asking you to-” Peter gave a horrified expression as he dropped his face into his hand. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I-”
“Alright, alright, stop with the teenage insecurities. You’re going to give me a headache.” Tony capped off another cartridge before turning towards Peter. “I’ll help web you up but this is a strictly clothes on, lights on, solely educational kind of ordeal, understand?”
Peter lifted his face, brandishing a hopeful grin so sweet that Tony thought it should be illegal. “Yes, Mr. Stark!”
“Then come to the lab tomorrow after school. We’ll do it then.”
*~*~*
“Is this too tight?” Tony asked as he checked the webs at Peter’s wrists, watching the subtle struggling movements the kid made as he tested the binds.
“No, but I can’t move,” Peter concluded, his face already burning with a soft red hue. “Like before...”
“That’s good,” Tony remarked, his expression twitching as he held back a smirk. He didn’t want to admit it but the kid looked good like this; bound, flushed, a bit frantic, so clearly horny, and already sporting an erection. “I adjusted the formula a bit more so it sticks to hard surfaces better. Though it’s still nearly the same. Your original formula was genius, Pete.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter gasped, his gaze bouncing between his mentor’s eyes and the floor. “That’s…” He paused, biting his lip and breathing out a short whine.
“What?” Tony squinted, curiously staring at the kid’s face. “You felt good?” He guessed, the tone of his voice unintentionally revealing his amusement. “From what? The compliment?” He smiled, “I probably should’ve predicted a praise thing with you.”
“A praise thing?” Peter’s voice cracked, eyes flickering upward and body squirming in the mere millimetres of give in the binds. “W-What do you mean?”
“It’s just another kink,” Tony explained. “You get off on being praised, complimented, told you’re a good boy, among other things.”
“Other things? Fuck-” Peter let out a groan that turned high-pitched when he glanced down, glaring at the zipper on his jeans like it was hurting him. “Can you tell me, Mr. Stark?”
“Tell you?” Tony repeated, uncertain about the trajectory of this situation but deciding against his better judgment. “Sure, kid, it can sometimes just be pet names like honey, sweetheart, princess or prince – baby’s a popular one – baby girl, baby boy. You got options.”
“That’s nice,” The kid practically moaned. “Yeah, I might be like that, I don’t know...it’s weird. You’re not even calling me those things directly but my whole body feels hot, Mr. Stark. Is that normal?”
“Yeah, b-” Tony swallowed hard, mentally at war with himself for almost slipping up. “Yes, kid, perfectly normal. You’re not weird.” He let out a deep breath and stepped closer to check the binds once more. “Are you still okay? Still got all the feeling in your limbs? No tingling, right?”
“Just my c-” Peter paused, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
“No, it’s just m-my...um,” Peter sighed, his expression falling shameful. “I can’t say it around you.”
“Say what around me?” Tony repeated, his mind already speculating on words the kid would be too embarrassed to say. “You’re tied up in my lab having a discussion about kinks but you’re still being shy?” He teased. “Say it or I’ll stop, Peter.”
“But Mr. Stark-!” Peter’s eyes went wide, frantically needy and almost desperate. “I-I don’t want you to stop,” His voice trembled. “I just- please don’t.”
Tony audibly tsked, stepping toward the lab desk and grabbing the can of solvent. “Hold still,” He ordered, his hand inches away, threatening to spray the webs.
“Wait!” Peter interrupted, letting out a low whine before finally admitting, “I was going to say that just my cock is tingling.” His words came out slow and embarrassed, maybe even more so than Tony thought they would be. “I’m really hard right now, Mr. Stark. I’ve never been like this. I feel strange and- you, you’re watching me and it’s making me feel good and that makes me feel dirty and like I’m a bad person.”
“You’re not a bad person, kid,” Tony eased, abandoning the solvent can against the table and dragging a lab stool closer to Peter, sitting only a couple of feet away. “You just have kinks and, like I said before, they’re normal. Everyone has something, whether it’s vanilla or—“ He gestured up and down Peter’s frame. “—not.”
“What kinks do you have?” Peter asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
“Me?” Tony grinned, his mind flying through the plethora of sexual tendencies he enjoyed. “You want an honest answer?” He remarked, instantly regretting how into this he had become. He shook his head, “Never mind.”
“No fair!” Peter whined. “You made me talk but you get to be quiet?”
“As the one with the web solvent, I make the rules,” Tony quipped but knew deep down he was tip-toeing on a dangerous line.
“But Mr. Stark!” Peter defied, struggling in his binds and full of frustration. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take a single step over the line, Tony rationalized.
“My lab, my rules. So be a good boy and behave.” Tony kept his tone firm, dropping his grin for emphasis and reveling in the way it made the kid flinch.
“O-Okay,” Peter muttered over a shallow breath, nodding slowly and relaxing against the webs with red-tinted cheeks and obedient eyes. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”
Tony couldn’t fight off the smirk that worked its way onto his face. “Add subbing to the list.”
“What?”
“What do you think about the way I spoke to you?” Tony asked as he leaned forward, elbows connecting to knees, eyes catching a glimpse of a tiny wet spot just beside the kid’s zipper.
“I wasn’t paying attention to the exact way,” Peter lazily confessed, his hips shaking and his breaths getting heavier, looking like he was getting off against the fabric of his jeans.
And Tony watched intently as Peter desperately sought out any ounce of pleasure he could get from that barely-there friction. The kid was losing himself in it. Too horny for embarrassment, Tony guessed. The sight was mouth-watering and the sound, even more so. Those sporadic little breaths that ended on moans and whines. The overwhelmed expression keeping his brow tense as he squirmed. The cute way his peach lips would part and close in repetition or the way his soft curls clung to his forehead. It was all so tantalizing that Tony couldn’t stop himself from pushing beyond that line.
“You come in here, asking me to tie you up, near begging,” Tony stood up, approaching Peter slow and methodically. “And you’re not even paying attention to me?” He accused, grabbing the underside of Peter’s chin and forcing his gaze upward. “Look at you, happily getting off on nothing but words and you’re this hard—“ He clutched Peter’s erection with his free hand, a gentle but firm grip that made the kid gasp and flinch. “—but you can’t even focus on the person that got you there? Where’s the gratitude, baby?”
Peter’s lips parted and, at first, it was for words but the sounds that came out were strained and pleasured. All heady moans and breathy whines as his eyes glassed over and his hips jumped forward and, suddenly, that tiny wet spot on the front of his jeans was not so tiny. “Oh no,” Peter muttered with a panicky post-orgasmic clarity, and the disbelief and humiliation in his tone were clear as day. “I’m- I just- Mr. Stark, I’m sorry, I-”
Tony took a step back, smugly appreciation his handiwork, “Did you just-?”
“It’s my senses!” Peter interrupted, hectically attempting to explain himself. “My nerves sometimes have a mind of their own! I didn’t mean to-!”
“Did you just come in your jeans, Peter Parker?” Tony grinned.
“I-” Peter struggled on his words. “Mr. Stark, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- It was just- I-”
“The next word out of your mouth better be an answer to my question.”
“Yes,” Peter whispered, ducking his head in shame. “Yes, I just... came... in my jeans.”
“Maybe I should be impressed with myself then?” Tony stepped forward, tenderly running his fingers through the kid’s curls. “Practically no effort and you’re making a mess.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Peter’s head. “How cute.”
“Um...Mr. Stark?” Peter glanced up with demure eyes.
“Yeah, kid?”
“I think the web fluid still needs work. Can I come back tomorrow to do more tests?”
Hi, and welcome to part two of my Thirst™ Series: Let’s Give Everyone An Undercut ft. Tony Stark. Also known as the Tattoo AU, where Tony survives Endgame and everything is fine.
+ I cannot thank @kayytx enough for the invaluable input that helped me work out what I wanted for Tony’s tattoos and all of the amazing ideas she gave me! Also special thanks to @gigacat, @teeveemuveefreek, and @spideypoolmymoonandstars for their terrific suggestions as well!
Others in the Tattoo AU:
Steve Rogers | Bucky Barnes | Sam Wilson | Thor | Natasha Romanov | Loki
prints are now available in my shop ⚡ pineapplebread.bigcartel.com
Priest! Tony and church boy Peter have so much blasphemous possibilities holy fuck like y'all know this bitch is an unrepentant sinner, I have absolutely no qualms thinking about:
- angelic little Peter Parker never failing to show up at Mass every Sunday with his parents, always sitting on the few front rows, honey-syrup eyes always so bright and attentive as he listens to the sermons
- no doubt, he’s one of the most devout members of the church; other parents can’t help but have a liking for this good christian boy, always so polite to everyone and respectful to the men of the cloth, a shining example for their own unruly teenagers. So really, who can blame all the ministers and preachers for having an obvious soft spot for Peter?
- of course, what they’re all unaware of is just how much one priest in particular is interested in the boy– the truth of the matter was that Father Stark is noxiously obsessed with him, has been ever since he had first laid eyes on that halo of silken hair framing the boy’s face, sunlight colouring it a celestial gold that stole his breath away. Peter is utterly captivating, yes, but he’s also the epitome of forbidden desire: only sixteen- and by not only the rules of the law but also the word of god- out of limits.
- and yet Tony goes against his own morals and virtues every single time, lusting unabashedly over the sweet young thing seated on the front row with his small hands clasped atop his lap and those lasciviously pink lips mumbling around the hymn of the day. He’s always been terrible at resisting temptation, and Peter is a walking sinful fantasy. And oh, he understands that he should know better, choose to do the right thing; which certainly isn’t cornering the boy against the walls of the confessional and kissing him urgently, pinning those bony shoulders down as he finally tastes his raw desire– and oh, is it sweet.
- that is not to say, of course, that the priest does not feel even a sliver of remorse. The guilt is awful, burning through his veins and sinking heavy in his gut as he finally pulls back for breath and takes in Peter’s wrecked state, those soft pink lips of his now swollen and red-bitten, parting around harsh exhales of breath. Tony goes home that day to recite the act of contrition all through the night, Hail Mary’s echoing chillingly around his dark room.
- so imagine his surprise when he goes back to church the next day not to a restraining order and law enforcement authorities but instead a hopeful looking Peter seated, as always, in his usual spot right in the middle of the front row, cheeks flushing red whenever their gazes meet over the altar. The sermon barely reaches an end before the boy is slipping off his seat with a meaningful look thrown over his shoulder for Tony to follow him– and just minutes later the priest’s got his tongue shoved down Peter’s throat, bathroom of the church filled with the indecent sloppy sounds leaking past their joined mouths, the younger boy’s fingers desperately fisting into his robes to support himself. By the time Tony breaks their kiss there’s a thin tendril of spittle connecting their spit-slick lips and the bulges of both their crotches are much more noticeable
- tufts of hair falling messily into his glassy eyes, Peter grins up at him before dropping down to his knees in one fluid movement, and it’s only when he’s tugging purposefully at the priest’s robes that Tony finally registers that the boy has wanted this all along. That behind that innocuous little facade of his hides something wild and desperate and definitely not saintly, and the revelation of it all tears a guttural groan from the priest’s chest.
- “Father Stark,” Peter asks much too sweetly for someone down on his knees on the floor of a church bathroom, hands resting on the thighs of his Pastor and mouth level with the obscene bulge tenting the front of the other’s robes. “May I please suck your cock? Pretty please?”
- and damn it all, in that very moment Tony shoves all possible repercussions of this sin away from his mind, would have signed his soul away to hell without a second thought; who needs heaven anyway, when there’s an angel so willingly pleading for your cock? With a dark shudder and a blasphemous curse, Tony winds his fingers into those mussed curls as he shoves the throbbing length of his cock deep into Peter’s throat, fucking into that divine heat pulsing around him as he keeps the boy’s head in place, giving what the baby whore was begging for.
- if there’s one thing Tony’s learnt from this, it’s that looks can be deceiving– the boy might even possibly be hell sent, unholy in his ways. By the sixth night Tony’s already had him bent over the altar while he fucks into him from behind, the priest shuddering from the blissful wet heat clenched tightly around his cock and the lewd sounds from Peter; pleading cries of “oh Father!” and “more, fuck me harder, fill up my slutty little hole Father please, h-harder-!”
So he had a dream. It meant nothing, absolutely nothing. Because the whole ‘if you dream about somebody, then that means they thought about you before going to bed’ wasn’t real.
Yet Peter was invested.
When he woke up in the middle of the night with a raging boner, and pieces of scenes where Tony was picking him up from the floor and squeezing his ass, while they were making out, he knew he was fucked. He knew that the next day he was gonna get flustered before even entering the classroom.
But it was also his fault, because he knew how weak he was for the man, yet he kept finding excuses to try and talk to him. Homework, a test, a question about a project. Whatever he could think of.
And when the next day he was finally in front of the man, the pulsations that he could feel in his pants weren’t normal. His own dick was so hard he could hear his heartbeat from his fucking boner.
“Mr. Parker, are you alright?”
Peter realized he was standing in front of the class, while everyone was seated, and he rushed to his seat with his notebook carefully and strategically placed on top of his boner.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, you can start”
“Why thank you” answered the teacher, then winked at the big. Everyone laughed. It looked like Peter wanted to give permission to Tony, as if he was his boss.
Peter knew he wasn’t, and if he was honest with himself, he would let Tony be the boss any day.
While the man was preaching something about how important space was, Peter was lost on his profile. He was so perfect it almost seemed surreal, like he wasn’t there, but still on the dream.
The painful hardon he still couldn’t shake off confirmated that he wasn’t in one.
“Mr. Parker?” He heard a second time that day, and when his mind finally came back to earth, he realized the bell had rang and everyone had ran out, Peter being the only one left. “You’re extremely zoned out today. Rough night?”
The way Tony said ‘rough’ made Peter tingle all over. He wanted Tony to do another rough things to him.
“I-I… um, yeah… I had a dream”
“A dream?” Repeated Tony, almost shocked at the vague answer the student had given him. “Why would a dream be something bad?”
The words made Peter’s brain wonder back to the scenes and suddenly, he let go of his book and it hit the floor, revealing the extreme situation on his pants, making Tony’s gaze immediately be distracted by the scene displayed there for him.
The man wasn’t stupid. He knew -he noticed- how Peter looked at him. And by the unusual and very bad timing boner, the dream had probably been about him.
“Was it… a special kind of dream, Mr. Parker?” Asked tony as he impulsed himself from the table and started to walk towards the boy, his face darker than usual, something along the lines of desire running through the teacher’s veins as he spotted the innocence, neediness and vulnerability of the boy.
Peter couldn’t help but gulp. How could he not when everything he had ever wish for was happening?
“Was it… dirty?”
Peter blinked several times. Why did Mr. Stark just said that word in that specific way? It made every single hair on his body stand.
The lack of answers made the teacher kneel, and before Peter could protest or say anything; really, Tony’s hand was in Peter’s crotch, squeezing lightly. Peter could barely breathe.
“What- what are you…” He started, but the minute Tony’s hand somehow undid his belt and it slid down his pants, grabbing something sacred, Peter didn’t care anymore.
Peter wouldn’t been more annoyed by the fact that Tony seemed unbothered and uninterested if he wasn’t so turned on.
“I thought you were a good boy. Good grades, good behavior, and now… you’re having wet dreams?” He muttered, giving Peter a particular hard squeeze.
Peter was going to come just from that. He had come several times for far less just thinking about the man talking to him, let alone touching him.
“I don’t- I don’t control my dreams… ah, ah, sir” Peter moaned, throwing his head back slightky, not knowing how to physically react to the weird thing that was happening with the door unlocked.
“Well, you better start doing that, or else I’ll have to punish you”
Was this a dream? This was everything Peter ya ever wanted. Everything.
“Sir, please, I-“
“What even are you asking for, sweetheart?”
Peter shrugged, too sensitive already to answer such a complicated question. The pressure was building strong and firey in his belly and right when he felt like he was going to explode, Tony stopped.
“No! No, no, please…” begged Peter, taking Tony’s hand and moving it towards his crotch, desperate for some friction, for some release, for having a release by Tony’s hands.
Tony leaned in and whispered slowly: “You wanna come, baby?”
Peter felt like he could come just by the pet name, but he held it in for his own sake, then he nodded, a huge bump of saliva trying to go down his throat but it being too dry.
He was desperate.
“Then pay attention to my fucking class, Peter”
And the man kissed Peter’s cheek, then stood up, took his things and left, leaving Peter alone there, fly open and boxers stained with precum, as the bell rang strong in his ears.
I wrote this on vacation, which is really when I get the majority of my writing done. Please enjoy.
Warnings: NFF, Demon!Tony, religious elements, slight mind control/manipulation
The Haunt
Peter hated haunted houses. He hated running through them, the confined space, the jump scares... and he always managed to get separated from his friends. This place was massive - an attraction in an abandoned church called Hell House. They lost Flash and Bette early on. But then Ned and MJ abandoned him completely when they were running through a section being chased by a guy with a chainsaw. Peter must’ve taken a wrong turn then too, because he hasn’t seen anyone...
No monsters, no other patrons. But he can hear people screaming. The hallway he’s wandering, very carefully, it’s lit by candles, but has no real decorations. He’s scared to call for help - What if someone’s waiting for him to speak so they can scare him? Peter stayed against the wall, still following the hall. There’s a door at the end, it’s got to be an exit. Peter focused on the door and his steps picked up. Soon he was turning the handle, pushing.
Locked. No. It can’t be. Peter turned the handle again and pulled. The door didn’t budge. Peter banged on the door with his fist. “Come on,” he pleaded. “I just want to go home!”
Suddenly the lock clicked and the door opened slightly, creaking on its hinges. Peter stepped back, startled. A man appeared behind the open door, wearing priest robes and looking confused. He must be part of the performers crew, Peter thought. Maybe this was a break room or something.
“H-hey...” he said, “I lost my friends. I wanna go home....” He blushed a little, embarrassed to be a scared little kid in front of this man.
The priest looked him over, his dark his considering. “Come in,” he finally said. “I can help you.”
Peter kept his eyes on the floor as he stepped into the room. “Thanks...” he said. “I know it’s kind of dumb to be scared of these things. It’s not real.”
“Fear is very real,” the priest said. He smiled at Peter though, warm and welcoming. He was older... usually scare performers were young adults... but this guy had gray in his hair. He was also attractive; maybe he wasn’t in any makeup yet.
Peter looked around them, trying to distract himself. This room was also lit by candles, and looked more like a church than dressing room. “Is... is this part of the haunted house?” He asked. There were pews, and an altar. Except... it wasn’t a Christian altar. The cross had been tipped upside down and strange, blood red patterns were everywhere.
“Haunted house?” The priest asked. “No, no... this is... something else. Come, sit. I’ll get you something to drink.” The man moved across the room to a curtain. “My name is Father Tony Stark,” he said as Peter stared rooted to his spot.
Maybe this was an unopened part of the haunt. People could get private shows here apparently. Father Stark brought Peter a small glass of water. “What’s your name?”
“Peter,” the boy replied. He sipped at the water, not really thirsty. He still just wanted to leave.
Tony nodded. “I’m sorry that you’ve had such a scare tonight Peter,” the man said. He put an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Don’t worry though. It’s almost over.”
He led Peter toward the altar.
“Is there an exit here?” Peter asked a little confused. The candles seemed to burn brighter as they approached.
“Mmhm,” Father Stark said. “Of sorts.”
Peter looked at the man, hesitant to take another step. Tony gave the boy another warm smile and Peter felt his head spin a little. Were priests supposed to be so handsome? Peter stumbled a little, feeling faint. “Oh...”
Tony caught him, a steady arm around his waist. “Are you feeling well?” He asked. He took Peter’s barely touched water glass before the boy could drop it.
“I’m... dizzy,” Peter said. “Just all of a sudden.”
“Come, sit,” the priest said. He guided Peter forward toward the altar again. Peter stared down at the floor - it was glowing... had there always been a pattern carved into it?
Peter stopped his feet again, feeling Tony pressed firmly to his back. “You’re so close,” he whispered. “Keep going.”
“I-I can’t...” Peter replied. “This isn’t...”
“You will,” the priest’s voice deepened. “You came to me by no accident.”
Peter’s head spun more and his feet moved on their own. He stepped into the ritual circle. The words, “Good boy,” bolted through him and Peter nearly fell to the floor. But Tony lifted the boy into his arms and laid him across the altar surface. Peter shook his head, trying to clear the fog. He looked over at Tony, who stood next to him. The man’s eyes were glowing red. “Please...” Peter whimpered.
“Hush,” Tony said. He leaned forward and kissed Peter. Heat shot through the boy; he’d never been kissed like this before. “You will be obedient,” Tony said. “You’re already craving my touch.”
Peter nodded, his body still aflame. He squeezed his thighs together, trying to create some friction between them.
“Good,” Tony said. He cupped Peter’s cheek. “Now, Peter...”
His name on the demons tongue caught his full attention. Peter’s eyes snapped to the red glow of Tony’s. “Don’t move.” Tony held up a wickedly jagged knife. He cut through Peter’s clothing, exposing him fully.
Peter blushed and attempted to cover his hard-on. But Tony easily caught both of his wrists. He raised them above Peter’s head. “Stay,” he ordered. And Peter was locked in place.
“Spread your legs.” The boy obeyed.
“F-Father Stark...” Peter whined.
“Patience,” the man replied. “Sacrificing your virginity is a delicate process, pet. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Peter nodded, though he didn’t fully understand what Tony had said. He raised his hips a little, his body on fire. “T-touch me,” he begged.
Tony chuckled. “You’re such a perfect gift.” He stepped between Peter’s legs, his robes seemingly melting away. He lowered himself between the boy’s thighs and dragged his tongue over them. Peter watched, fascinated by the long, forked organ slithering so near to his length and hole.
Tony’s tongue eventually pressed into Peter’s hole, sending the boy arching his back and keening. The demon priest worked him open, thrusting his tongue in and out Peter. He watched the boy’s reaction carefully. Peter squirmed, Though he was still locked in place by invisible bonds. He panted heavily, moaning and whimpering. He could feel it deep inside of his body, hot and exploring him thoroughly.
Then the tongue was withdrawn, leaving him empty. “N-no...” Peter managed. He stared at Tony, confused, wounded.
The demon only grinned. He pressed his own cock to Peter’s swollen, pink little hole. “Don’t fear,” he said. “I’m going to ruin you thoroughly.”
Tony thrust his hips forward, the head of his dick forcing its way inside the boy. Peter gasped, his toes curling. It was huge, but he felt no pain. Only fire, searing pleasure. His arms flexed as he tried to break free from his restraints again.
Tony’s cock sank deeper into Peter, forcing more delicious moans out of the boy.
Peter thrashed as the demon bottomed out. He was so incredibly full, he could feel every inch of the man inside. Then the demon began to move, snapping his hips hard and relentless against Peter. His legs locked around Tony’s waist. “Good boy,” the man praised. “You’re mine now.”
Peter gasped and nodded. He belonged to Tony, body and soul. Finally, Peter’s arms were released and he could hold himself against Tony’s body. He rolled his hips, earning a satisfied grunt from the man. They moved together, faster, Tony thrusting deeper. Peter couldn’t last. He was too full, too hot, too close to bursting. Tony kissed him again, demonic tongue slithering into his mouth. Peter saw stars as he came, groaning against the man’s lips and falling limp.
He clung to Tony. The demon continued to fuck him. He whined again, still feeling the heat. Peter knew his place though. It was clear. He was Tony’s, a doll, a toy for pleasure. So Peter held on, moving his hips to make them both feel good.
Peter came to outside the haunted house, his head clearing finally. He glanced around. He was standing at the entrance gate, fully clothed and only a little sore. Had he passed out? It wasn’t a dream... was it? “Pete!”
Peter glanced up at his name. Ned and MJ were coming out of the Haunt. “We’re Sorry,” Ned said, as he came up to Peter. “We lost you.”
Peter shrugged. “It’s okay,” he said. “I found my way out.”
“You didn’t get too scared, did you?” MJ asked, teasing him softly.
Peter shook his head. “No... one of the performers helped me... I think.”
His friends glanced at him as they made their way back to the parking lot. “Well, you missed a lot of good scares,” MJ said. “Too bad.”
Peter looked back to the haunted house, feeling an ache in his belly. He got a brief flash of memories. “Yeah...” he said softly. “You know, the pamphlet said that every night is a different scare...”
He stared up at the old stained glass window of the abandoned church, a red eyed figure stared back. He grinned. “Let’s just come back tomorrow night. I wanna do it again.”
This boy doesn’t even need dog ears to be a literal puppy. Bless him. 🐾
Should I be doing homework? Absolutely. Am I doing it? Absolutely not. I’m drawing adorable twinks in dog ears instead. There’s a bright future ahead of me.
