Read all my stuff on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1262336 /she/her. Leave a prompt in the ask box and I’ll write it on here!! I'm just slow sometimes :( I like anything with peter. All kinks welcome! PS This is a side blog, but I'm probably already following you on my main if you post starker
Someone has been taking pictures up Peter's skirt when he's not looking and poor Peter has found their blog.
Part 1 (yes there will be more parts)
Warnings and tags below
Warnings/tags: romnoncon, public sex, teacher/student, upskirt pics, femboy!Peter, degrading/humiliating language
Peter sat at his desk and stared straight ahead at the projector screen. He could feel Mr. Stark's eyes on him every couple of minutes. He didn't dare look. Did he know that he knew?
Peter didn't absorb a damn thing on the screen. His hand was in his lap, tucked under his skirt, hidden in the dark. His fingers ran up and down his cock. The lace of his panties was too rough. He wanted Mr. Stark to tear them off with his teeth.
He licked his dry lips and put his hands up on the desk. He had to stop before he got himself in trouble, but he was so sure it was Mr. Stark who had taken those pictures of him... those videos... groped his ass and played with his hole. If he took his cock out on the subway and stuck it inside him he'd let him. In fact he'd moan like a whore and push back on it.
Mr. Stark stood from the desk and turned off the projector. Peter didn't look at him. He couldn't.
"Alright, class. You heard the bell," Mr. Stark announced. "I'll see you all tomorrow."
Someone hit the light switch and everyone blinked at the sudden brightness. The class stood and made their way towards the door. No one paid attention to Peter, lingering at his desk. He waited until the room was empty.
"Let me help you clean up, Mr. Stark," Peter said.
The man's back was to him as he cleaned up the projector. He looked over his shoulder and a smile grew on his face.
"Sure, Peter. I would appreciate that."
Peter smiled and nodded. He crossed the room and together they tucked the projector cart into the corner. There was absolutely no need for two people to do it just like there was absolutely no need for Mr. Stark's hand to cover his as they pushed the cart aside.
"Thanks, Pete. You better get going before you're late." He smiled and walked back to his desk.
Peter stood, staring. It was him wasn't it? It had to be. He knew the smell of that cologne.
"Do you think I could borrow a pen?"
Mr. Stark sat down in his chair. "Sure, kid. Take which ever one you like." He gestured to a pen holder at the front of the desk. Peter could feel his skin heating as he crossed the floor. He walked to the back of the desk, his leg bumped against Mr. Stark's. He leaned forward a little more than he needed to as he grabbed for a pen. His fingers curled around the plastic. He hesitated only for a second, before letting it roll from his fingers and onto the floor. He chased after it, pressing up on his toes and bending all the way across the desk.
"Oops! I'm so clumsy lately," Peter laughed. The desk dug uncomfortably into his stomach. He hung down toward the floor. The pen was very much in reach but he didn't pick it up.
"H-happens to the best of us," Mr. Stark swallowed hard.
Peter could feel how his panties how his ass was exposed, panties riding up. His cock was hard and definitely visible. A hand touched the back of his thigh and didn't move. Peter grabbed the pen and straightened up leaning into his hand as he straightened back up, letting that hand slip up to his ass. His heart raced. He slowly turned around and met his teacher's eye.
He licked his lips once again. "Thank you, sir."
Mr. Stark stared back at him. His eyes were dark, his cheeks were flushed. "Anytime, sweetheart."
Peter bit his lip and turned away. He hurried away from his teacher's desk and grabbed his things. He didn't go to class. He couldn't. The pressure against his cock was too much. Tear burned in his eyes with the effort of holding back. He ran into the bathroom and slammed the stall door shut. He dropped his things on the floor and stuffed his mouth with his fist.
As the bell rang for class to start, the bathroom cleared out. Peter clung to the door as he rocked his hips. He didn't even get the chance to slip his hand between his legs before he was cumming, crying his teacher's name from behind his hands.
It wasn't even enough. He was ready to cum again almost instantly. He stood, leaning against the door until he was calm. He looked down at crotch.
There was a wet spot on the front of his skirt. Underneath was so much worse. His cum was dripping through the lace of his panties and the fabric was wet all the way back to his ass. He wiped up as much of it as he could with some toilet paper. There wasn't anything he could do for the skirt. He held his books in front of it as he made his way down the hall. At least he only had one class left.
He didn't take in much of what he was supposed to learn in this class either. The feeling of his cum drying between his legs was too distracting. So was the fantasy that Mr. Stark might have pushed him down on his desk and fucked him right there. Just like the fantasy on his blog. He could have sent him from the room with cum drying on his face instead.
He was so busy daydreaming about Mr. Stark that he forgot they rode the subway home together, but when he got home and checked the site there was a new post.
Someone likes the attention... maybe too much.
The picture was another upskirt shot. His soaked panties were clearly visible. A little bit of dried cum stuck to the lace. Peter moaned. He had to find some way to get Mr. Stark to do more than grope him in passing. He'd be putting so much on the line fucking a student, but he'd already gone so far. Just maybe he could be persuaded.
Hello gorgeous people. Im eager to get cracking on a new one-shot and I’ve cut it down to two ideas. Let me know which you’d like to see and any ideas/scenes you'd like to see in it!
1) Peter is a 25 year old TA happily dating the much older, but very dapper: Howard Stark. When Howard invites Peter to spend the summer with him, enter Howard’s 18 year old son: Tony, who has his sights set on seducing his dad's new boyfriend.
2) Peter (20) and Tony (40) had a very steamy friends-with-benefits relationship which Peter ended after wanting something more serious. Now, Peter’s dating Harley and is very happy - only for Harley to bring him over for the summer to meet his dad: a Tony Stark who is very much not over Peter Parker.
Blame Multiverse of Madness and the House of the Dragon
TW: Uncle/Nephew incest, age difference, mentions of violence, major character death (not Stephen/Peter)
He does not come to the palace for meetings, though he sits on the council, though his brother is King, though he is commander of the armies.
He prefers to lead his soldiers into glorious, victorious, bloody battles, emblazoned with their red cloaks, the eyes of those that see him full of terror and respect.
But sometimes matters cannot be helped and when King Richard Parker demands an emergency council hearing (with all members present says the wax paper) Stephen releases his soldiers from their training, straddles his great, hulking black horse and heads for the capital.
His silhouette, that of the greatest, cruellest soldier atop a beast, is renowned and children cringe onto the dirt to watch him pass, women flutter their eyelashes and criminals steer clear. He smiles under his helmet.
Once he reaches the palace, attendants rush to him and it's not possible to forget a lifetime of being seen to, so he lets them take his horse and strides inside. The castle smells like stone and ash, and he remembers sword-fighting with Richard in the courtyard when they were just boys. Richard's five years older, but a terrible swordsman, all soft lines and gentleness. Naturally, Stephen, a loyal and devoted brother, had picked up all those qualities that Richard lacked (of which there are many) and become a brilliant swordsmen, ruthless and hard.
He does not wait to be introduced, though he knows he's late, but walks into the council room where the meeting is already underway, where wine has already been served, and where his seat is empty, dusty and unexpectant.
His brother is the only friendly face at the table. It's been months since they've seen each other, and Stephen takes in all the ways his brother has aged: silver in his hair under the deep, gold crown, lines in his face, but the glittering blue eyes that only those with Parker blood have, are strong as ever.
Stephen removes his helmet to reveal his own blue eyes, and his face. Members of the council turn away with disgust.
"Christ, Stephen. You didn't have time to bathe?" Banner retches, repugnant, and Stephen wipes brain off his cheek and skull fragments from his chin, leaving behind trails of blood, and he walks around the table, bows to his brother, and takes a seat.
"I assumed the letter was urgent." He says simply, aware how his black armour glimmers in the firelight, ebony speckled with blood and how all other men are dressed in cotton, vulnerable, weaponless.
"It is, Stephen, thank you," Richard says warmly, "it is a gift to see you again, brother. You avoid the castle too much. We are family." Richard reaches over to touch Stephen's hand.
Members of the council are clearly unhappy with the King's love for his brother. Stephen knows they see him as unpredictable, envious for the throne, cruel on all accounts - and Stephen is those things, but he is first and foremost a Parker, and loyal always to the King, even if he knows the throne would suit himself better. He does not lean forward or even smile as he pulls his hand away, but he meets his brother's eye and says:
"I am here if you need me, my King."
Richard, of course, understands the love, loyalty and devotion. He has nothing to fear from Stephen, but he's never been able to convince the other council members of that. They are unable to read Stephen at all.
The matter at hand is a political one and Stephen cares little for those. It's about trade routes and canals being blocked by rebels, food struggling to reach the fringes of the Kingdom.
Rogers suggests peace talks, Banner suggests alternate food sources, Stark suggests money, Stephen of course, suggests bloodshed.
"A little...demonstration of force." He smirks, "Fear is a tremendous motivator."
Stark sneers at him, eyes dull and brown and hideously impure. "Fear is a temporary state of mind. It's not a permanent solution to the issue."
Richard sighs. "Tony's right, Stephen. Besides, slaughtering those soldiers? Most are untrained, barely eighteen, or so I've heard. It would be seen as excessive." He doesn't say that he could hardly stand the thought of boys so young dying, not when they might be like Peter.
Stephen smiles. "We wouldn't need to kill any of them. Just the sight of my men, in their red cloaks, will do enough. Just the sight of us is fear enough. They will scatter like ants, I can promise that."
The men at the table know that enough is true. None of them can deny that Stephen is the greatest warrior and strongest Commander of the Armies the Parker line has ever had in its entire dynastic history. When Stephen was eighteen he was a cutthroat fighter and placing him as Commander had been a natural move (the council had not minded either, for it kept him from the palace). The army then had been full of boys, scared young men poorly trained and poorly equipped. Stephen had changed that. He is an excellent teacher with a sharp eye and a sharper tongue, and now he has the largest army of warriors, the best fighters in the world, fashioned with the strongest horses, the toughest armour, the deadliest blades. And all 5000 are loyal not to the crown, not to the Parker bloodline, but to him.
That last part is known around the Kingdom, whispered in the streets by peasants and nobles alike. He could cause a mutiny with a glance.
Richard must have heard of it, though he shows no indication that he minds at all.
Stephen supposes it doesn't matter if the army isn't loyal to Richard, so long as Stephen is.
Richard decides that he must ruminate further on the matter, must read more in old history books, so the council adjourns and Stephen stalks through the castle in shadow, taking in all the changes, listening to hushed conversations through closed doors, reaching all those secret passages he's known about since-
Darkness.
Stephen freezes, then immediately whips around, pinning his attacker to the wall of the hidden passage, knife against their throat, poised and ready to-
Peter grins at him, bright blue eyes twinkling in the dark, steel against his soft, delicate neck, arms rested at his side. "Uncle, a visit to the castle and no letter to your very favourite nephew?"
Stephen cannot help his smile, as he sheaths his sword and takes in Peter Parker, Prince of Kingdoms, barely eighteen and beautiful as ever. There is not a mark on him, not an inch changed since last time Stephen was here except perhaps- his brown curls longer, his long legs longer too. He is narrow, and wily, an unassuming gladiator that Stephen is very proud to have trained. It is the most appealing creature, after all, the most colourful and attractive, that delivers the deadliest sting.
"Peter," he murmurs, reaching down to kiss Peter's forehead - the most affection he will show until he knows there are no prying eyes.
"Are you so old now, Uncle?" Peter teases, glinting and lovely, "to not have heard my most stealthy attack?"
"You are quiet as the breeze," Stephen bestows, "but I did not come empty-handed. Come, let us go somewhere private so that I may give you your present."
As they walk to private chambers, Stephen can feel Peter's gaze on his face: hungry, eager, excited. He and Peter are the same: the lust for blood and triumph. Peter, however, hides his exceptionally well. Stephen has never been able to contain his own appetite for war.
When they're alone, Peter reminds him why he didn't visit a single whore-house in all his time away. Nothing can compare to his lithe body twisted against Stephen's, their eyes and skin just the same- almost mirrors, mouth as sweet as when he left, and as talented. Just the sounds of him are enough to have Stephen half way there, pulling at his britches, and it's rough and clumsy- Stephen too long in the presence of only warrior comforts and Peter too long without touches so intimate- but they find their balance, reaching climax.
In the come down, sticky with sweat, Stephen helps Peter up off the table. Stephen is still fully clothed, but Peter pulls his trousers up, his shirt long gone and Stephen admires the tight muscle there. In turn, Peter unbuttons his Uncle's shirt and places his small hand on Stephen's broad chest, tracing new scars and remembering old ones.
Stephen indulgences himself, he always does with Peter, and he tips Peter's chin up and kisses him very softly on the mouth.
It's a kiss that would betray him to the world if anyone but Peter saw it. Stephen's kiss is full of love and devotion (weakness and softness) and Peter smiles beautifully up at him, content to have his love back in his arms.
"How long are you here?" Peer whispers, barely above the crackle of the fire.
Stephen doesn't answer, and Peter's blue eyes shine wet with understanding. "Dear prince," Stephen cups Peter's jaw in his large hands and looks down at his face. "Soon your father will choose you a partner."
Peter's lashes flutter against Stephen's thumb. "You have been away too long, Uncle. Father has promised me freedom." Here Peter smiles, like he knows the pleasure his next words will bring. "He wants to rule only for a few years more, and you, his heir, will be King. I will take your place as Commander of Armies."
Stephen is still as he takes it in. He has always been his brother's heir - he was named as such before Peter was born, and then once the young Prince came, the advisors and the councils met. Stephen remembers sitting in that room as a young man, he remembers Peter, only eight years old, sitting very serious beside his father. It was tradition that they both be part of the conversation, though Peter understood so little of it.
Most members of the council had urged Richard to instil Peter as heir. As son of the King, they insisted, the Kingdom would know more stability. And, Stephen knows, the men had thought that Peter could be moulded, malleable, would be gentler, easier to sway and take direction. In truth, Stephen had not minded. Even across the table all those years ago, Peter had adored him and he knew, if he'd wished, Peter would become King only to give it all to Stephen if Stephen had asked.
But Richard knew the weight of the throne and the crown and he knew his brother's strength. Were Stephen's eyes not as blue as Peters? The bloodline as pure?
During the heir-naming ceremony, Stephen had stood before subjects not yet his - received the title from his brother, and then had the pleasure of watching every member of the council, and every person of nobility come and kneel before him and pledge their fealty to the future King. Seeing Stark on his knees had been very satisfying.
Peter too, only a cherub-faced child, had knelt before Stephen and recited words he did not understand.
Stephen had worried that perhaps, Peter and he were too alike. That as Peter grew, and their relationship grew closer, closer, and closer, Peter would desire the throne for himself- resent the pledge he'd made to his Uncle and urge his father and the council to change their minds.
Stephen is a persuasive man, but there are few who can deny Prince Peter anything. He did not want to fight Peter, uncertain of who the winner would be, uncertain he would want to fight someone he cared for.
As it was, Peter seemed only delighted in having more time to play and study things that interested him rather than the old policies of the ancient Kingdom. And as Peter grew, more perceptive and more beautiful, he saw how Stephen longed for the throne, and was happy that he would someday inherit it.
The councillors, however, had insisted that if Peter were not to be heir, he should at least marry a noble in case (Stephen is sure they hoped) something were to happen to the King's brother in battle.
This had been the heaviest cross Peter bore, to marry not for love, and Richard had agreed only reluctantly, to protect the Kingdom.
But now- since he has been away - it is clear that Richard has grown stubborn in old age and more fond than ever of his only son. Peter is free from the burden of marriage and Stephen will be inheriting the throne sooner than he ever thought.
And Peter will be- Commander of Armies.
Stephen smiles. The role will suit the boy perfectly. His men will no longer be his, but Peter's. Stephen earned their loyalty and allegiance, but Peter will be given it eagerly by every soldier for there is no one who does not adore Prince Parker, the prince who would never be King.
"Speak," Peter urges, shaking Stephen from his thoughts.
"I was thinking on how well the post will suit you."
Peter smiles, tugging at Stephen's red cloak. "This will suit me fine."
They look at one another.
"If there is to be no marriage," Peter murmurs, "and I am free..."
Stephen sighs. "If I am King, I will have to marry. They will want an heir." He grimaces. The thought of someone on his arm that isn't Peter is abhorrent. "There must be options for the crown. I will name you heir, of course, but there must be failsafes in case the worst should happen."
"So you will marry," Peter says quietly, pulling out from Stephen's hands and retrieving his shirt. Stephen watches him carefully.
"I will marry to sire a child. I will never love her."
"So you say." Peter scoffs, not looking at him.
Stephen grabs his arm and holds him firmly. Peter still does not look at him, so Stephen stares into the fire as he says: "I have room in my heart for only one, Peter Parker. You claimed it as your own some time ago."
***
As mortals plan, god laughs.
God must be laughing when he strikes down Richard Parker.
Stephen is in the midst of a small battle to gain territory the council do not think they need but Stephen knows better- when he feels something shift.
It is said the Parker bloodline sings to one another, that alongside the distinctive ocean eyes, there is a connection between all those who share the blood.
A feeling of loss across veins when a member is struck down.
His feeling is confirmed hours later when one of his men, head bowed in honour, brings him the letter.
When he leaves his tent, all his men bow to him.
He rides home but there is a plot at play. Richard was killed by a soldier in a red cloak, it's what all the reports say. It's what Stark takes no small delight in pointing out during the council meeting.
Stephen is on time to this meeting, early even, fresh from the funeral in black armour, face free from blood, and Peter is there too, though he does not sit in Richard's place. By all accounts, Stephen should take his brother's seat, but he does not out of respect.
It is the first time he has seen Peter - who's face was hidden at the funeral - but the boy is stone-faced and his eyes are angry. Stephen hopes that Peter knows, the boy must know - Stephen's men would never have done this.
"You cannot know that," Stark says flippantly. "You cannot control and speak for the action of 5000 men-"
"You have never commanded an army," Stephen says evenly. "I speak for the actions of every one of my men. Someone donned a red cloak and committed treason."
Someone, Stephen suspects, Tony paid. The truth must have come out on Richard's plan to abdicate and others must not have liked it. "If you speak for their actions," Tony says, smiling, "and we cannot rule them out- it is unquestioned that you cannot be named in as King. The controversy alone."
Bruce takes a gulp of wine. "You are the rightful heir, Stephen, no one is questioning Richard's wishes, but in light of the situation- the King supposedly killed by a member of your army, it makes it look as though we are a Kingdom without trust, without loyalty. But-"
"If Peter were made King," Tony beams, looking over at Peter as though just noticing him- "Peter, if you were made King instead and Stephen made a show of pledging his loyalty to you at your coronation, all doubts would be waylaid."
For the first time, Peter makes eye contact with Stephen.
An entire world amasses between them in an instant.
Stephen swells with relief and vindication.
They are the same.
"Lord Stark," Peter says, drawing up out of his seat. "You will address me as Prince Parker."
The councillors fall silent, and Tony blinks in surprise, dropping gently into his seat. Peter's tone is cold and distant, like mountain winds and revenge.
"I would agree with you," Peter continues, moving towards his father's empty chair and touching the metal detailing there. "Except I know that my Uncle's army are not responsible for this. Everyone knows their loyalty to Commander Stephen, everyone knows his army are an extension of himself, another hand. And I know my Uncle's loyalty was to my father. These are things that I know, Lord Stark."
Nobody says a word.
"However," here, Peter closes his eyes, and for only a moment grieves everything he has lost, a future that is never to be. "The army must stay in Stephen's control. For him to abandon them now, after they were suspected of such treason..." Peter looks at Stephen, apology in his gaze, "it could never be. Stephen will remain as Commander of the Armies."
He continues: "I will be crowned King, and you, Tony Stark, will be executed for treason."
***
The execution of Tony Stark rallies the Kingdom further behind Stephen. He is more respected than ever, revered for his control of his army, for their strength, he is known as a Protector of the Kingdom and his soldiers are treated like nobility (where Stephen will allow it).
King Peter is crowned, his father's crown set on his curls, lines of nobles and soldiers waiting to bend their knee. Stephen has every one of his army kneel for Peter and the message is seen by all.
When it comes to Stephen's turn, the Kingdom watches with baited breath. Two Parkers with blue eyes, one destined to be King and not, one never to be King and crowned.
Stephen looks at his nephew, in finery and responsibility, beautiful as ever. He gets down on his knee, reaches out for Peter's hand and kisses it lingeringly.
The crowd breaks into murmuring and Peter looks down at him with wide eyes, surprised and delighted, and Stephen grins wickedly.
He'd like to see anyone try and accuse him of disloyalty now.
***
For a King-never-to-be, the crown suits Peter tremendously.
He is fair and just, like his father.
He is protective and punishing, like his Uncle.
Peter marries a friend and she delivers him a blue-eyed set of twins: boy and girl.
Stephen very much wants to kill the Queen, now that she has served her purpose, but Peter cares for her like a sister, so Stephen lets her be. Perhaps one day, Peter will change his mind.
Stephen comes back to the castle more often now, to see his beloved and to train the children in the ways of battle. He and Peter kiss in open spaces.
For his birthday, Peter requests a public execution and has a front row seat to Stephen cutting the head and hands off a murderer.
Their love is bloody, that night.
"I love you," Peter whispers in their bed, for they have their own. The children are sleeping and though it's Stephen's first night back in the palace in weeks, their rhythm has not faltered, their dance is not forgotten.
"I love you." Stephen promises.
***
Peter names Stephen his heir, to no one's surprise, but Stephen knows he will never inherit it. He would take his own life to ensure King Peter outlived him, and so the crown will never pass to his own head.
It is a shame, in some respects, as he thought it would have suited him nicely. The role is, always it seems, just out of reach.
It surprises him, that he does not seem to mind.
***
In private chambers, some time ago, Stephen grabs Peter's arm and holds him firmly. Peter still does not look at him, so Stephen stares into the fire as he says: "I have room in my heart for only one, Peter Parker. You claimed it as your own some time ago."
Prince Peter Parker, eighteen years old and hoping to be Commander of Armies says to the maybe-one-day-future-King "Claimed it? Uncle, you are mistaken. You gave it to me years ago."
Stephen smiles, drawing him close, and allows himself to ask the question only once: "Where is your heart, sweet prince?"
Help me darlings, I want to do an Austen-esque starker story but keep getting stuck. Please let me know suggestions/ideas
Somethings I’ve thought:
- pride and prejudice but it’s Darcy - Georgiana as Tony Peter (step siblings or cousins or full siblings?) Tony likes to spoil his little brother, very protective over wickham (beck?) Peter upset people just want him for money
- pride and prejudice classic - enemies to lovers? Following the story fairly faithfully? Peter as an unruly unconventional omega of lower class
- Emma , knightly and Emma, as Tony and Peter, protectiveness jealousy (Tony knowing Peter is destined for Strange/Churchill) more wholesome vibes? Alpha omega dynamics?
Let me knowwwwww either dm me or comment or send an anon 🥰❤️
After Tony’s death, Peter starts to notice Stephen.
Strange notices Peter.
He always notices Peter. This hasn't changed from the moment he met him, and even after everything, his interest remains the same. A bright, burning thing, as he glimpses- as sparingly as he can- at brown curls falling into brown eyes full of science and questions and brilliance. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches that pink tongue and those pink lips, and under the pretence of studying ancient books, he admires the sharp cheek bones and the delicate curve of Peter's delicate neck.
Noticing Peter is unchanging. It is as frustrating and irresistible as it always was.
What has changed, however, is that for the first time, Peter seems to notice him.
***
Stephen doesn't understand it at first. When he opens the door to the Sanctum, opens the door onto the cold, white snow of New York, and Peter stands there with dark circles around his eyes, and his backpack over his shoulder.
"Peter." He says, stepping aside and letting him in.
The boy swallows hard, his cheeks red with cold. "I uh...May doesn't...I need someone who understands." His voice breaks, brittle and croaky, and Stephen nods because Tony Stark is dead, and though the world feels its loss, only a few are actually grieving.
He doesn't really think about it, then. Who else could Peter go to? It was the three of them on that ship, and now there's only two of them- and Stephen was already in New York. So he makes some tea, and gives Peter a mug, and they go down to the inner-Sanctum's library and sit quietly. Strange pretends to read ancient books, and Peter pretends he's okay.
***
He suspects Peter cries in private because he never cries in front of Stephen. But he must be crying. Crying is the only way to heal. Or it's part of it, at least. But time moves and it's summer, and Wong is somewhere doing something (Stephen wasn't really listening) and they've fallen into a little routine. Peter comes to the Sanctum after college classes, and on days he doesn't have any classes, and he leaves in the evening. Strange makes tea and orders take out, and Peter does the dishes, and opens the windows to let in the sunshine.
The cloak nuzzles Peter like a cat, and Peter smiles, a smile free of burden, uncomplicated and easy as the warm air, and Stephen tries not to notice so obviously.
But then he meets Peter's eyes, and Peter smiles again, and Stephen, for the first time, feels seen.
***
He's not sure what to do with that information. It's just there, burning in his brain, and he opens his mouth to speak, and then he closes it again, and Peter looks up from where he was trying (and failing) to summon a portal. Stephen's sure he'll be able to do it soon, and then who knows what Spiderman will be able to accomplish.
"I have to tell you something." Peter says abruptly, brown eyes meeting Stephen's, and Stephen nods tightly. Peter hunches his shoulders, twiddles his pencil, and is silent for so long Stephen can hardly bear it. And then Peter says: "I was sleeping with Tony."
Stephen blinks. He drinks his coffee. He blinks again. "Yes?" He says, waiting.
Peter makes a face, and then lets out a little laugh. It sounds like relief. "You- you knew?"
Stephen waves him off, and the Cloak copies the dismissive hand motion. "Of course I knew, Peter. I'm surprised you thought it was well-hidden. You had a very close relationship, and well...we're both aware of Tony's reputation with beautiful young men and women."
It isn't until Peter's cheeks blossom, like a rose unfurling, that Stephen realises what he's said, and he clears his throat, tightening his grip on his mug.
"Why do you bring it up?" He asks, trying to push past it.
"I just..." Peter cocks his head, examining him like he's an old spell he just hasn't mastered yet. "It's gonna sound bad, but you remind me of him, sometimes."
It's something Stephen has thought about a lot, so he strides over, and as delicately as he dares, touches Peter's chin and lifts that beautiful face to meet his gaze. "To be likened to someone whom you held so dear, could never sound bad. I take it as the sincerest of compliments."
Peter leans into him briefly, before pulling away. "Okay then," he says, "teach me this spell."
"If you call it a spell one more time-"
***
He knew it in the early days of their acquaintance after Tony had passed. He knew it, deep down, when Peter had shown up on his door. It was not because the three of them were on Titan. Not because the three of them were on that ship. Not because he lived in New York. But because Stephen is clever, and biting, and tall, and older, and in the right light, to a tired mind-
He could remind someone of their dead lover.
It doesn't bother him, though he knows it might bother some people. Peter is healing and he needs a crutch, and Stephen remembers the pins in his hands and the horror he felt- how sick in his throat, knowing he needed them, but feeling the pain- and if Peter needs a crutch, then Stephen will be that crutch until Peter pushes him away.
It's a soft soft of self-flagellation, a type of torture he inflicts on himself, of knowing that Peter notices him now because Peter always noticed Tony. But Stephen doesn't mind second place for a prize so dear.
For all he doesn't mind, and how much it hurts (an ache, an interesting, deep kind of pain) he doesn't lean into the role of being Tony. He remains himself, and lets Peter discover similarities that might exist naturally, not artificially. There are lines he will not cross. It's why he does not make a move, or push his authority, or reveal his softer side when Peter simpers and tries to reach it the way he tried with Tony.
Stephen is not Tony, no matter how the light might trick you.
***
Peter manages to open a portal, and, against the rules, darts to Italy and comes back with a bottle full of sand.
"For MJ," he says, sunburnt in the cloudy New York fall, when he stumbles back out onto the right side and sees Stephen waiting there angrily. Peter falters, "she's a friend in my class..."
"There are rules in this Sanctum for a reason." Stephen snaps, "we do not make portals without proper testing and without proper runes." He points to the rocks Peter has assembled in a less-than-perfect circle. "The mystic arts are for more than that. They deserve more than that."
"I'm sorry," Peter says, "but I did it exactly how you taught me-"
"You broke the rules. You violated the Sanctum-"
Peter scoffs.
Stephen clenches his jaw. Arches an eyebrow.
"You break the rules all the time!" Peter insists, setting down the bottle of sand. "And you do it for yourself- whenever Wong isn't here, I do it once, for a friend- and you're acting like you're in charge. You can't teach me magic and then tell me I can't use it-"
"Magic has rules-"
"That don't apply to you?"
Stephen's shackles rise. He hates the challenge. He looms over Peter, who puffs out his chest and then-
Peter kisses him.
He tastes of sea-salt and Stephen's hand is obscenely large on the small of his back, and something clatters, falls off the table- and Stephen's got Peter on the counter, crowded between his legs, and Peter's whimpering, whining, voice high, and Stephen can't think straight, feels intoxicated with it-
***
When Stephen wakes up, Peter's wearing his Cloak and nothing else.
"Hi," Peter whispers, eyes bright with merriment, and Stephen claims him in a kiss and thinks, dangerously, I'd let him break every rule.
***
They have dinner at a sushi restaurant, and Peter is surprisingly adept with chopsticks, and this thing between them is still new, and delicate, but Stephen protects it fiercely.
"I don't think you're Tony, you know," Peter says softly, "I'm not...using you."
Stephen smiles, and reaches over to touch his hand. "I know that, Peter."
But the boy barrels on: "I wasn't sure myself, at first, and I know you'll never admit it, and that you see yourself as second place, but it isn't like that. I love you as you are. You did remind me of Tony, at first, superficially, and that helped, but the mirage gave way, Stephen. You are unfriendly and anti-social and just terrible, really, with people. You are completely unique. I'm only sorry it took me so long to see you." And then he stuffs a giant California roll into his mouth, and the beauty of the sentiment is almost lost behind rice.
Stephen feels it all the same. And the thread between them lines with gold, precious and tougher, and they're still grieving, both of them for different things, but finally, Stephen stops noticing, and starts to believe.
I ADORE ADORE ADORE your writing! You’re a genius! Holy shit ily! Your writing made me read over 300k in the last 4days. 4 DAYS! You’re a genius. A genius!
We gonna talk about last night?
WinterSpider (Bucky x Peter) Friends to Lovers
“Childhood Best-friend” for @peterparkerbingo
Tag list (because i like to be judged, apparently??): @snowstark @femmeparker @starkeristheendgame @lemonpeter @peterrparrkerr @vaguekiwi @starkentrprises @thegreenmetblue@moodystark
Transcript:
Bucky: Alright, Pete. We gonna talk about last night?
Peter: What was last night? Oh. Oh god. Did we really...
Bucky: Hell yeah
Peter: You sure it wasn’t...
Bucky: Nope
Peter: And the two of us...
Bucky: So you regret it then?
Peter: I could never regret you, Bucky.
Bucky: Maybe we should refresh your memory?
Peter: Maybe we should. Why don’t you, uh... eat and then we can...
Bucky: Or we could do it now?
Peter: ... Okay.
money heist au where a group of adventurers using the names of cities as code names captures the U.S. mint. their plan is to print money for eleven days and resist the elite police forces at the same time. meanwhile, they have to take care of 67 hostages, including schoolchildren who were captured in the middle of the tour.
among them is peter, who is of particular value to robbers. peter parker is the son of the ambassador of great britain. he is separated from the other hostages and placed under the personal protection of the gang leader nicknamed ‘washington’
Hi! I’ve just binged through every single one of your stories on AO3 and I was wondering if you had any other writings planned? Ofc I completely understand you having a life outside of writing! I’m just curious if there’s anything in particular we can keep our eye out for!
I have to say my favorite story of yours is your Mafia! AU !! I absolutely adore the writing style and they way you capture each of the characters so perfectly! I’m actually on my way to reread the 5 chapters you’ve posted! It would be amazing to see Stephen’s eventual integration into the group and everyone falling back into a familiar groove with one another but ofc those are just my thoughts! 💕
I’m so excited to see what you make! Take care of yourself!💖
Oh 🥺🥺🥺 what a message to make my day. Im so sorry Angel, new job and new home are lame but genuine excuses. But I do want to write the 5th chapter of Stephen back in the fold 👀
@awesomestarker dropped an angsty starker prompt and it put this silly seed in my head....
High school starker. To get May off his back about not dating, Peter has been talking up his ~boyfriend~, only now May is set on having the non-existent boy over for the holidays. Tony and Peter have had a flirtationship for a while (Peter wants more, Tony is a classic commitment-phobe). Peter gets it in his head that he’ll ask Tony to be his pretend boyfriend for the holidays, but it’s as bad as if Peter had asked him to go steady for real: Tony freaks and refuses. Despondent and panicking, Peter asks Harry, and determined to be the best friend he can be, Harry agrees and takes on the role whole-heartedly.
Which is why Peter is so shocked when there’s a knock on the door just as he, May, and Harry are sitting down to eat and it’s Tony with flowers and a bottle of wine for May. He pecks Peter on the cheek, saying loudly, “Sorry I’m late, Pete.”
May whisper-shouts at him when he helps her carve the turkey: “TWO boyfriends, Peter Benjamin?? After all the lovely things you’ve said about Harry???”
And in the dining room you have Tony who has wisened up about his feelings for Peter glaring at Harry who is still trying to hold up the charade by pretending to be devastated at Tony’s appearance.
Dinner is the most awkward affair ever with Peter mumbling “Could you pass the potatoes, honey?” and both Tony and Harry reach for the bowl, neither willing to give it up to the other. May shaking her head at the sight, whispering to the ceiling, “Mary forgive me.” Peter slinking lower and lower in his chair with every snide remark his ‘boyfriends’ make at each other.
Some holiday drama!not drama with mutual pining, genuine good-guy Harry, and May wondering how overnight her shy nerdy nephew managed to become such a playboy. 😂
Please enjoy Chapter One of my newest fic, an A/B/O work inspired by @starkerforlife6969′s “howard buys Tony an omega” series on ao3! (Highly, HIGHLY recommend you go read that!)
I’ve also gifted this to @snowstark as a thank you for encouraging me to write it, for coming up with the title, and for generally being an incredibly loving and supportive friend and fellow writer.
read it on ao3!
—
It wasn’t that Peter was ungrateful, he was just lonely.
He and Tony had been bonded for a few weeks now, and at first, everything was perfect. Tony was the perfect, doting alpha that saw to Peter’s every need and even coaxed a few of his wants out of him. Peter was the ideal omega, soft and sweet, rounding out all of Tony’s rough edges in the best ways.
It went beyond biology – beyond the fact that omegas needed someone to take care of them and beyond an alpha needing to answer that call.
They loved each other, it was that simple. Tony encouraged Peter to be himself purely and unashamedly, never called him dumb or treated him like he was, even though omegas were so sweet and innocent they were often mistaken for dumber creatures than alphas. Peter encouraged Tony to take breaks and allow someone else to take care of him for a while, assuring him that it didn’t make him weaker or a bad alpha. Everyone needed to be taken care of. They were partners.
That’s why it hurt so terribly when Tony slowly stopped acting like one.
It’s a little too hot,and a little too loud. A little too much of everything, but that’s the way it always is at Wanda’s parties. It’s too dark, and sticky and Peter squints past the strobe lighting, tries to pierce the throbbing mass of dancing bodies to find-
“Let me save you the trouble: I’m right here.”
Peter sighs.
He turns, only to be brought up a little short, because Tony’s closer than he thought he’d be- all tall, dark lines and darker eyes, and mussed hair, that stupid, cocky-ass smirk on his face. Peter doesn’t like being this close to Tony, it’s dangerous.
He takes a precautionary, safety step back. “Have you seen Beck?”
“Sure haven’t,” Tony grins, eyes stuck firm on Peter’s abs and Peter- he should feel self-conscious, but it’s not like he’s exactly surprised. He sans-shirt on purpose. It’s a body-glitter party, after all. Like he said- Wanda’s a little much. “That boyfriend of yours sure is slippery. I know where I’d be if I’d come here tonight with you.”
Peter pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to breathe deeply. Tony laughs.
“You’re wound up, sweetheart,” Tony croons, arm around Peter’s shoulders, steering him smoothly away from the crowd. “Beck’ll show up, he always does, after all.”
Peter doesn’t know where they are- someone’s bedroom, but it’s dark, and quiet, and he’s against the wall and Tony is dangerously close to him, towering over him, one arm braced against the wall above him and Peter-
“Already monogamous at nineteen,” Tony tuts, nosing at Peter’s neck, “it’s a waste. You’re too pretty to pass up, Parker.”
It’s hard to get his wits about him with Tony’s cologne smelling as good as it does (of course it does, the jerk) but he manages it. “I’m sorry we can’t all sleep with half the student body.”
“No apology necessary. I know how you can make it up to me.”
And then Tony’s very close. Danger. Danger. Warning. The alarm bells are ringing, and Peter can see those pink lips, that smirk- feel the warmth of Tony’s body against his own and who knows where Beck even is? And Tony smells good, and they’ve always had this- this thing between them, this heat, this wanting-
And then he sees the little white pill Tony’s offering on the tip of his tongue.
Peter scoffs in disgust, and pushes away. His cheeks feel flushed, he feels flushed- god, he would’ve- “No thank you. I have to find Beck.”
“Thought about it, huh, gorgeous?” Tony asks, swallowing the pill himself, waggling his eyebrows. “Too much too fast, I get that. I’m happy with just a make out session. I know, I’m too generous.”
Peter refuses to let his knees wobble as he heads for the door. “Monogamous, remember?” He says sweetly over his shoulder.
“Ugh, I remember every time I see that ass walking away from me, Pete. It’s torture.”
He should leave, but he looks back at Tony, meets his eyes in the darkness and can’t help but admit: “You are dangerous, Tony Stark.”
Tony leans off the wall a little, eyebrows raised, intrigued. “Dangerous?” He repeats, looking like he’d eat Peter up here and now.
“You’re my brand of poison.” Peter admits, heart pounding, “you’d be bad for me.”
Tony’s face breaks into the most delighted, wicked grin, He opens his mouth to say something, god knows what- when the door opens, and the moment is gone.
***
Peter does find Beck that night. Pants around his ankles, someone kneeling before him.
It says a lot, Peter thinks, that he just sighs when he sees it. He doesn’t stay to hear the excuses, he just heads outside into the crisp night air, smiles politely at the weed-smokers and relishes the quiet.
God, what a day.
The gravel crunches behind him, and there’s a pause.
“I swear I’m not stalking you.”
Peter huffs a laugh, and then Tony is behind him, and they’re both craning their necks back to look up at the sky.
“You find Beck?” Tony asks up at the stars.
“Unfortunately.”
They both look at each other from the corners of their eyes. They grin.
“I was thinking about what you said.” Tony hums, sidling up closer beside him, “about poison.”
There’s a cold breeze, it fans over Peter’s bare chest, and he leans into Tony a little. Just for warmth. “Oh?”
“The way I see it is to build up an immunity, right? Little bit of me everyday, till you’re able to take it all.”
“Very clever, Tony.”
“Oh, compliment me more.”
Peter snorts, shoves Tony gently. But he sobers, and his touch lingers, and he shakes his head as he thinks about it. “I’m too vanilla for you, Tony.”
“Well, we can change that-”
“I don’t want to change that. I like it. I like you. But I’m not going to take drugs, or have threesomes with you. You be bubblegum and sprinkles, it’s delicious, but I’m vanilla.”
Tony cups Peter’s jaw in his hand, surprisingly tender, “You think I don’t like vanilla?”
“I think you probably like every flavour, Tony. But vanilla won’t keep you around for very long.”
At the prospect of something long term, Peter can feel Tony stiffen a little, feel his shutters go up, (but to his credit) just a bit. “Listen, gorgeous, you are exactly my type, but….monogamy.” He winces, “It’s really not my vibe.”
Peter takes a small step back. “The idea of just having a part of you, Tony, it’s…” he shakes his head, “it’s not enough.”
“You’re a possessive little thing, huh?”
Peter thinks of how Beck would go days at a time without so much as a text and how little it bothered him. “Only when it comes to you, I think.” He says thoughtfully.
The taller boy softens. “Well, I like being an exception. And I’d like to make you one too, to my whole anti-relationship schtick. So, I can’t promise I’ll be any good as a boyfriend, can’t promise anything really, Peter, but I’d treat you right. And I won’t cheat, I’d do you the courtesy of dumping you first.”
Peter laughs, a little shocked and plenty delighted, “as a thank you, I promise I won’t even yell when you dump me.” He makes another promise to himself: to treasure each day with Tony Stark as his, because it won’t last forever.
Tony pulls him in for a kiss, and then the rest of their life comes- but Tony never dumps him, never even wavers, not even once, and Peter keeps his own promise, and treasures every single day.
alpha frat boy tony at a party seeing omega peter like grinding on some guy in his frat and he comes up on the other side of peter and they get into like a staring match and have some weird alpha silent fight to see who gets to take peter up to their room in the frat and eventually peter wraps his arms around tony’s neck and they dance for like a little longer before going to his room to hook up and tony’s like super loud ab it and is just like super possessive and in the morning peter asks where the bathroom is so he can get ready yk and tony “accidentally” sends him to the guy from last night’s room just so he can see peter in what is clearly tony’s shirt with his neck and thighs all completely covered in hickies
