YOU ARE THE REASON
todays bird
Andulka
Misplaced Lens Cap
trying on a metaphor
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if i look back, i am lost
dirt enthusiast
Not today Justin
Discoholic 🪩
tannertan36
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Mike Driver
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ojovivo
titsay
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roma★
i don't do bad sauce passes
Cosimo Galluzzi
seen from Malaysia
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Maldives
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Mexico
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@starkersgalore
Would people be interested in this fic?
Peter having a purity ring and taking it off to hook up with tony in secret and put it back after.But the idea of one day Tony taking it after a particularly spicy scene and putting it on his keyring as a trophy. Cuz peter would be shocked at him taking the band. And tony would be like "I think I earned it"
Is starker really in ao3's list of top 100 ships? I can't find the official one but that's crazy😱
From what I can find its been named #34 and #68 most popular ship of 2020 but either way- holy fucking shit
Oh, to be a fly on the wall of all the antis clicking onto the list to see Starker in the top 50 and top 100 of the Archive’s official statistics.
I wonder if we could get it into the top 20 and top 50 this year? 🤔
God imagine if we could even possibly get ahead of Stony.
Imagine
I'm still a Tom Holland fan, because he's cool, but I'm not going to be writing for him, or being part of his fandom. Partially because I don't feel like writing for him anymore, just because I don't vibe with it anymore, but also for the following reason:
You "fans" are sick, and the behaviour is unnacceptable. Under no circumstances should you reveal someone's address, especially a celebrity. You should never send hate because they didn't do something you wanted them to, or in general.
I feel for Tom so hard right now, because the majority of his followers have absolutely no respect for him, or anyone else.
In saying that, don't attack other fans for speaking out! Don't attack people because you dont agree with then. Be a good person, an actual good person.
Peter: *pulls the emergeny stop on the elevator* you must all be wondering why I've gathered you here today...
Tony:
Stephen:
Harley:
Tony: kid-
Peter: now tell me who the fuck ate my pudding cups
Harley: Maybe it was Bill Cosby?
Peter, zooming into Harley's face, and very softly: listen here you piece of shit
"These two clearly have a father-son coded relationship"
That's your interpretation. My interpretation is that these bitches gay.
Let it be known
That it is not Pepper Potts that I hate but Gwenyth Paltrow, who cannot act her way into a pair of pants. XXL, wide waist, sweatpants.
honestly i just cant look at her the same way ever since she started her 'Goop' MLM bullshit.
things that are valid:
- incest ships
- ships with big age gaps
- self ships with “““problematic”““ characters
things that aren’t valid:
- antis
Peter has two hands and two shoulders, he can hold all four spiders 🥺 -des ps this almost makes me wanna get a pet tarantula
You bet he does, though, Droney doesn’t mind flying.
@starkersgalore @sticky-starker @reniisbooks
Bonus
I'm going to cry this is beautiful 😭❤️
@c6h12o6-work do you think Peter just chills with a tarantula on his head to freak Tony out?
I actually have a headcanon that Peter built himself a little mechanical spider that's as big as his hand. She's a little twitchy at times, and needs constant repairs, but Peter loves her dearly.
because of your tags i'm thinking of naming her, 'Twitch.e'
ngl I kind of miss the days of old when rpers would post screenshots of their Omegle sessions in ship tags. Those were fun to read.
@c6h12o6-work do you think Peter just chills with a tarantula on his head to freak Tony out?
I actually have a headcanon that Peter built himself a little mechanical spider that's as big as his hand. She's a little twitchy at times, and needs constant repairs, but Peter loves her dearly.
hrmmmm.... a ‘sex doll au’ where every citizen is assigned a random 16-character code the day they turn 17. And every year a percentage of the population is randomly chosen to immediately give up their freedom to be transformed into fuck toys. Not literally turned into dolls, but they go through surgeries and lobotomies to have their minds altered to the point where they have no thoughts of their own other than their newfound responsibilities as a sex doll. Once the procedure is complete, they’ll be fitted and placed on an auction block - mostly for the rich.
Virgins obviously go for much more than non-virgins.
Upper middle class and middle class buyers can “rent to buy” so long as they put out collateral of equal or lesser value.
Anyone lower on the caste basically can only buy second-hand. Unless they’re given a ‘sex doll’ as a gift.
each ‘sex doll’ is fitted with a chip in their brain, and a collar around their neck. In the past, remotes were also handed out, but nowadays an app has been created where you can take full control of your ‘doll’ directly from your smartphone.
the chip acts as a computer that makes the ‘doll’ comply with demands. whether they’re verbal or typed (for mute buyers)
the collar seconds as a shock collar should any ‘doll’ defect from it’s owner. In the case of constant disobedience, one may schedule for a memory wipe of their ‘doll’.
Now, imagine Peter’s “Parker Luck” pulling a 180 fuck you on him, and he’s being hauled away from his apartment with a defeated may being held back by authorities, and someone in professional clothing coldly lets her know that she’ll be seeing a “severence pay check” in the mail shortly.
Who ends up buying him? (I have Tony in mind, but really it could be anyone.)
(Also still a WIP. Feel free to add more to this, or if you choose to write your own fic/ficlet, I’d like to be tagged)
can we have tony getting kisses from peter 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 he has such a kissable face. i was watching the scene in im3 where he has that nightmare and i have never wanted to kiss someone more in my life
you are absolutely right, anon. he has the most kissable face, and he deserves them too! Hold on tight, because this might rot your teeth.
*** ***
Tony was used to people trying to kiss him. Lovers, potential lovers, fans stopping him for pictures, people the Avengers had saved from certain doom. Everyone wanted to get their lips on Tony Stark.
It was no different when he started dating Peter. Except, it was different. Partly because Tony actually wanted those kisses. Every day. All the time. He wanted to snag Peter every time they were in the same room and press kisses anywhere he could reach.
The other difference was the way Peter kissed him. Without rhyme or reason, and with no expectation of anything more. Most of the time, there didn’t even seem to be any heat behind the kiss. Sure, there were times when Peter would climb into his lap or roll into him in bed or press him against a wall, and Tony would be able to feel the evidence of the younger man’s desire.
But more often than not, Peter would appear at his side, press a kiss to a random spot on his face, and then disappear just as quickly. His cheek, his temple if Tony was sitting down, his chin if he was standing and Peter didn’t feel like lifting up onto his toes to reach higher. Sometimes his nose if Peter wanted to make him go cross-eyed. And when they were cuddled up together on the couch, Tony tucked up against Peter’s chest with Peter’s arms around his shoulders, sometimes the younger man would just sit with his lips pressed against Tony’s forehead for hours.
It was.. god, it was sweet. It made Tony feel loved and cared for like he never had been before. But because this was a whole new experience, and Tony was Tony, he couldn’t resist questioning why.
“Oh, do.. do you want me to stop? Because if it’s making you uncomfortable, I can stop or at least try to do it less or-”
“No, Pete, please please don’t stop. I love it, I’m just.. curious.”
He could see the soft blush spreading across Peter’s face as the kid shrugged. “I dunno, I just.. like to. Sometimes I look at you, or I see you across the room and my brain just says ‘kiss him, right now.’ So I just.. do. Has anyone every told you that you have a very kissable face, Tony?”
It was Tony’s turn to blush, though he couldn’t stop the small smile that popped up as he ducked his head. “No. No, that’s a new one.”
Before he could look up again, there were arms around his waist and soft lips pressed against his jawline. “Well, you do. And you deserve to be kissed all the time. And I deserve to kiss you all the time. So if it’s alright with you, I’m just gonna keep doing it.”
That made Tony chuckle, soft warmth pooling in his belly as he tipped his head down to capture Peter’s lips in a sweet kiss.
“You won’t hear any complaints from me, sweetheart.”
im 🥺🥺🥺
Awww how beautiful 🥰
Like There’s No Tomorrow (Starker)
I’ve had this scene in my head forever and finally got around to writing it. It’s not my best but hope you guys like it.
Synopsis: On an alien spaceship headed to Titan, Peter decides to tell Mr Stark how he feels because, heck, they’ll both be dead tomorrow.
Cw: Peter is 16
Mr Stark was stressed out, Peter could tell. And he’d seen him and been around him while he was stressed before, but this was on another level. He felt partly responsible, but at the end of the day, his new Iron Spider suit was extremely advanced – Mr Stark’s fault entirely - and he’d ended up getting stuck to the spaceship whether he wanted to be there or not. So now he was somewhere in the middle of outer space on an alien ship with his stressed-out mentor and a kinda irritating wizard-dude they’d just met, called Dr Strange.
They were en-route to Thanos’s planet, Titan, which the Voldemort-looking alien had set in place before they’d sucked him out the side of the ship like in the movie ‘Alien’ – it had actually been pretty awesome. They had no idea how long it would take to get to Titan, only that they were inevitably going to end up there. All they had to do until they got there was to wait. And argue.
Keep reading
You’re so cute when you’re scared
Abusive Spiderio
There is always a limerence period in all relationships, and while I would love to read a 10-chapter romance between the sexy-eyed Mysterio with the sweetly smiling Spiderman, THIS is what it would have to come to no matter what. Ultimately Spiderio must result in this.
OH and an epic battle over the skies of New York. (And Peter is NOT RESCUED by Tony, no. Peter rescues himself. But when the battles is over and he needs to talk it out, well we know who he turns to...
ok i need this
yes i need this too
Soulmate AU where Peter's soul words are like, "How you doin'" and Tony's words are "Not interested". Peter's in a bar and Tony walks up to him and says "How you doin'" and Peter throws back his shot of whiskey and just says, "Not interested," and then it just clicks at the same time for both of them. Peter looks at Tony and Tony looks at him and Peter says, "Well, maybe I am interested."
I received a second ask which is I think the beginning of this one, so I’m going to answer the two as this post and pray I’m not shorting someone!
Set around the A1 era but Peter is a spritely young lad seasoned with his powers and sick of soulmates and Tony is a thirty-something superhero equally unimpressed by the whole shtick. I hope I did this justice!
TW: Daddy kink | Grinding | Dynamic imbalance | Undernegotiated but consensual kink
Tony Stark was a man who had everything. Who had always had everything. A luxurious home, more money than he knew what to do with, expensive cars, expensive girls. A family name worth the Earth. All he had to do was speak his name or snap his fingers and people would bend over backwards to please him.
Which made his soul-mark all the more utterly infuriating
Not interested.
It was written in an inelegant scrawl, the r lopsided and the N curled on the tips. It lay like a brand on the inside of his bicep, taunting him every time he looked at it. And he looked at it often, especially as he grew up and got better looking; especially when people begun to play at being his soulmate in the desperate hope he would fall for them.
He had all that, and presumably, his soulmate had not even a spark of interest in him. It had gnawed at him like a starving wolf throughout his teens, wary of anyone who opened their mouth in his direction. And when he became an attractive, wealthy older man, and when he became an attractive superhero to boot. Iron Man. Someone wasn’t even remotely interested in Iron Man.
Steve had given him an amused and sort of smug look when Tony had revealed the white mark on a drunken team bonding night. No doubt the man knew how such a line would mess with Tony. Tony only wished he could give the man the same shit, but Steve’s soul-mark was a dark black, the colour it turned to when you met your soulmate. One James “Bucky” Barnes, who was so sickeningly in love with Steve that it often warranted fake gagging until they toned down the puppy eyes and kissing.
Being Iron Man didn’t exactly help the whole soulmate thing, either. Not that the soulmate issue wasn’t a smooth sea to begin with. They were a bit of a shit-luck-dip, really. You could be born in the entire wrong lifetime. You could be ninety by the time your soulmate is born. You could meet your soulmate in just enough time to watch them wither away.
Soul-marks were a pale, lifted white until you met your soulmate and spoke their words. Then, it would burn and slowly darken to black to signify you’d met The One.
At cresting thirty-two, Tony knew his soulmate was alive. Somewhere. The other delightful thing about soulmates is the Universe didn’t exactly plop you down in the same house. The majority of people died having never met their soulmate. Tony knew his soulmate was alive because he had a mark. Those too late got the job of watching their soul-mark fade from their skin.
And there Tony’s sat, pink-white and mocking him with every passing day.
Not interested.
It’s what he wished he could say, when his phone rang with Director Fury’s number and the sky begun to rain aliens. Looking up at the giant alien-crocodile-snake thing, all he wanted to do was throw in the armour and become a sheep herder or something.
Half of New York has been unceremoniously remodelled by the time Loki is a wheezing half-corpse two foot down in his kitchenette floor, and Schwarma turns out to be vaguely disappointing.
All in all, he needs a whiskey. And a strong one. In an unfortunate trend that seems to be set on denying him all his wants - The Tower is officially on lockdown while SHIELD begins the frantic clean-up attempt. This apparently extends to even him, the man who’s name is literally emblazoned across the building.
Or, was.
Looking up at it now, all that remains is a slightly jagged A.
Huh. He has to remodel now anyway; maybe a logo change might not be so bad. But that can wait, because between the aliens and Steve fucking Rogers and the aliens, a strong whiskey was the only solution. So Tony tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks and turned on his heel, picking way along the rubble-littered streets. Still deserted, now that SHIELD had taken over.
Some four blocks down, a SHIELD agent comes striding past, clutching a tiny Yorkie to his chest. The Agent side-eyed him as they passed each other, as though unsure if he should be letting an Avenger just stroll away, but Tony waved a hand at him. “Double the animal rescue efforts and put my name on the bill. If you happen to find a particularly vicious dog - Or even a cat, really, do be sure to stuff it in Captain America’s mailbox” he hummed, whistling cheerfully as he continued on.
The first bar he came across was a total dud, half-caved in and void of any signs of life. Unperturbed, Tony continued onwards and soon found a second, only slightly scathed. Entering the building it became clear he was not the only one who had settled on the notion of a stiff drink.
Sat at the bar, was a smaller male, with a mess of dark curls and a flannel overshirt that had been torn open, bloodied at one side. Skinny jeans once black were now a brown-grey with dust. The guy didn’t turn around the check him out, just knocked back a shot and poured another from the bottle at his side. Next to that was an empty tumbler, with what looked to be a $20 inside.
Tony gave a soft huff, but he supposed that for once, he didn’t exactly have a choice in going somewhere else. So he smoothed down his hair and sauntered up to the bar, leaning one elbow against the murky wood. A glimpse of the guys face nearly had him sliding straight off it in surprise.
A little battered or not, Bar Guy was attractive. He had a little button nose and a sharp jaw contradicted by slightly round cheeks. From the side his lashes seemed endless. A little disarmed but not deterred, Tony flashed a wry grin and in best Joey Tribbiani accent, greeted him with “Hey. How you doin’?”
And he honestly wasn’t flirting. At least, not with any real intent. Pepper often said that Tony would flirt with a potted plant if he thought it would gain him anything; and he supposed she wasn’t wrong. Bar Guy stiffened a little, shoulders hunching, and he poured a generous slug of whiskey into his glass before he knocked it back with a grimace, not even looking at Tony.
“Not interested” the boy replied blandly, though not cruelly, turning away from Tony to slide off his stool. Tony opened his mouth to crack a joke, or make a witty remark, but he never got that far. His arm begun to tingle, and then it burned slightly, and his gasp was mirrored by the guy opposite, who staggered and clutched at his thigh.
The burn abated back to a tingle, and then to nothing, as though it had never happened. Tony didn’t need to check his arm to know that the mark would be a deep, semi-sheen black.
The guy whipped around, and his already wide eyes went near cartoon comical when he realised exactly who was stood opposite him; exactly who the Universe had plucked out of a hat for him. Tony could only offer a wry, grim smile in response. He felt sick. He wanted to run away. This was it. God, he couldn’t do this.
“Mr. Stark” the boy honest to god squeaked, and it was enough to have Tony’s mouth curving with a little more sincerity. The boy straightened, gaze sweeping him without an ounce of subtlety, and then he coughed. “Okay. Uh. Maybe a little interested” the boy murmured, one hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.
“Only a little?” Tony asked, but it was teasing as he slid into a stool, took a $20 from his pocket and added it to the tumbler before he took the whiskey and the boy’s glass, pouring himself two fingers. What a story. He saved the world from aliens, flew a nuke into space and found his soulmate on the hunt for whiskey.
“So. Aliens” he huffed, knocking back his drink. The boy slid back onto the stool besides him and took the glass and bottle, knocking back a shot of his own.
“Aliens” he agreed sombrely.
An hour later and Tony learned his soulmate was called Peter Parker and he loved strawberries but was allergic to almonds and he went to community college because he couldn’t afford MIT and he stared at Tony’s mouth for the entire time he spoke. Peter asked to see his soul-mark, shy and a little tipsy from the half-bottle he’d sumped, and Tony unbuttoned his shirt enough to wriggle around, presenting the inside of his bicep to Peter, who leaned forwards like he was honest to god going to lick it.
“Now yours” he managed, after Peter’s eyes had trailed it (and his chest) for the ninth time. Peter blinked up at him, slow and half-cocked, before he nodded slowly, sliding off the stool to knuckle his belt. He squirmed his jeans down taut, milky thighs that Tony wanted to bite, before hopping effortlessly onto the bar, spreading his thighs enough that Tony could see his own messy scripture down the inside of his right thigh.
Tony shifted off his stool, leaning forwards and between Peter’s legs as much as his bunched up jeans would allow, staring at it. He loved it as much as he ached over it; because how cruel was it, to throw him at a boy like this? He leaned closer though, breathed hot air over it and was absolutely aware of the way Peter’s boxers lifted a fraction.
“Tony” the boy croaked, voice strangled as his hand fell to Tony’s shoulder. Tony was leaning closer, closer, until he could press a firm kiss over the dark ink. He didn’t know why, he just…Wanted to. Wanted to drink in the way Peter’s breath hitched and his hips jerked. Tony pulled back.
They’d just met. Hell, the kid might even have a partner waiting for him at home. Soulmates were never the end all of your life. Howard and Maria had never been soulmates but they’d lived and loved together until Howard had driven his Bughatti into a tree in the dark of a winter night.
Peter’s whimper had him glancing up, taking in blown pupils and flushed cheeks. The boy bit his lip before heaving a breath, fingers digging into Tony’s shoulder. “Fuck. You’re - You’re so hot. You can’t do that. You can’t make me want you like that” the boy mumbled, head shaking even as he tugged Tony closer.
And, well. Tony had never been the golden boy. Rules were meant to be broken.
Peter tasted like wet and whiskey and something a little sweet, like he’d been eating candy. His hands fell to Peter’s hips, digging into the skin above the waistline of his boxers as he kissed him, licked into his mouth and swallowed a muffled moan. Peter’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck, drawing him closer until Tony couldn’t go any further because Peter’s tangled legs stopped him.
“Fucking Hell” the boy grunted, leaving Tony long enough to kick off his sneakers and to simply shed his jeans, right there on a bartop in the middle of Manhattan. Tony cursed as slender, long legs spread for him, until their half-hard cocks squeezed together and punched a whine from both of them. Peter was the first to grind forwards, sloppy and without finesse as they kissed again, a slick slide of tongue that ended in a help as Tony bit down on Peter’s bottom lip, dragging him closer by the waist.
“If you - If you stop now I’ll kill you” Peter panted against his mouth, rocking forwards against Tony’s Gucci slacks. Tony couldn’t resist a cruel smirk, drawing his head back to gaze down at the debauched boy.
“I thought you said you weren’t interested?” He asked, arching a brow. The demeanour slipped when Peter drove a hand between them, grasping Tony’s cock through his trousers and squeezing enough to have his hips stuttering forwards. “Daddy doesn’t like to be teased” he growled, surging forwards to cup Peter’s jaw, to kiss him bruisingly as one hand went to the boys wrist, coaxing him into stroking Tony through the fabric.
Peter mewled beneath him, fingers curling and stroking around the shape of him as he rut forwards against his own forearm, nipping at Tony’s tongue gently. “Anything, fuck. Just - Don’t stop. Don’t stop Daddy, please. Please don’t stop” he begged, brainless except for the pleasure. It was a look Tony liked; a lot.
Tony pushed Peter’s arm aside and grasped him by the asscheeks, hauling him against his hips as he ground forwards, fingers dipping between those plump cheeks and straining the fabric to brush against the rose of muscle between them. Peter moaned blatantly into his mouth, hips jerking forwards. “Please” the boy begged again, grinding against him with desperation.
Tony obliged, kissing him with renewed effort and keeping their cocks flush together through their fabrics, a heavy grind that lasted only minutes before Peter was crying out, arching into his body as he came with a half-scream of “Daddy!”
His thighs squeezing Tony’s hips and their cocks squeezed tight together pushed Tony over the edge, cum flooding his silk boxers as he muffled his own pleasure into Peter’s shoulder. Fuck. They’d just done that. Right there.
He begun to laugh. Against his chest Peter made a questioning sound, hands petting at his shoulders.
“So,” Tony drawled, lifting his head to gaze into Peter’s eyes with amusement. “Are we leaving that bit out of the ‘how we met story?”
Peter smacked his shoulder with the empty whiskey bottle.
