I would really adore some meet cute starker where Peter is a bumbling temp hire for a catering company at a Stark Industries gala. He can't quite keep up with the demands and stress of catering but he is still the genius we all know and love.
Maybe after dropping far too many plates, he gets yelled at and sent on break. He sulks out of view behind the main stage and overhears the emcee struggling to get the science portion of Mr. Stark's introduction speech correct. Peter does the Peter thing and wants to help. He tries to coach the emcee through it because he truly gets the science and global impact of Tony's recent inventions and it's a real scientific breakthrough and Peter is fully a Tony Stark fanboy.
Maybe the emcee says "fuck it, why don't you explain it for me, kid?" And suddenly, Peter's being dragged on stage to introduce Tony Stark and his achievements, and he's awkward and wearing his catering uniform and doesn't quite know where to look or what to do with his hands in front of all these people and cameras, but he still gushes about every detail of the science.
And Tony is secretly falling head over heels for this random awkward kid that just gets it.
Soulmates can be overwritten if one of the partners die. Young Tony, next in line to become head of the Stark crime syndicate, has felt the burn of a soulmarked name on his wrist too many times to count. He starts to feel nothing as his father deems each new name unworthy to sit beside his son.
After each overwritten name, his father asks him to send a photo of the new name to be appraised. The wording of it used to make his skin crawl. It doesn't anymore. He spends his time studying robotics and he ignores the monthly, sometimes weekly, burn.
But Tony’s world changes when he meets Peter Parker, a quiet doe-eyed nerd that works the front desk of the lab space he goes to rent. The kid manages to make him laugh in under two minutes, with the way he fumbles the sign-in process and all his silly quips.
Then a moment passes where Tony feels something familiar and Peter is screaming, clinging to his wrist in a panic. Tony knows his soulmark has been overwritten, apparently, so has Peter's.
Tony glances at his wrist, and his panic hits him in a aftershock. Peter Parker, his new soulmate was standing right in front of him, bawling out his eyes for a Quentin that Tony could only guess was his old soulmate's name.
Tony’s never met a soulmate before. He wonders if it's the only reason he ignores his father's text for the new name this time around.
Ok, so... I've been obsessed with this idea of Peter's teeth slowly growing sharper, like as a late onset symptom of the spiderbite, because he's suddenly developing the ability to produce and spit venom. But there are growing pains with his changing teeth and he starts to build an oral fixation. He's chewing on pens, pencils, straws – anything to soothe the discomfort in his mouth. He starts to get restless if there's nothing to chew on.
One day, Peter is in the lab with Tony, and they are running tests on his new venom to determine how dangerous it is, which certainly involves a lot of Tony's hands in Peter's mouth for extracting the sample of venom.
Peter is tempted to bite down but he just lets his lips close around Tony's fingers instead; not wanting to hurt Tony with untested venom but also not being able to control himself with something his mouth. His eyes slip closed and he sucking on Tony's gloved fingers, gently easing his molars across them.
It feels good, calming in a way that lets Peter forget how embarrassing the situation should be.
Tony clears his throat.
It catches Peter off guard, has him pulling away with a flushed face, but Tony handles the awkward air with a laugh and a joke about buying the kid a teething ring while his teeth come in.
And that...? That's not a bad idea. So Peter blurts out a can you? A little too quick and a little too earnest, and so fucking embarrassing and Peter wants to coil up into a ball and disappear.
Tony gently laughs it off, gets them back on track, venom science, testing, no need to feel awkward about it, Pete.
But the next day, there's a small box with a soft plastic teething ring inside sitting at Peter's workstation. It's so perfect too. Peter chews on it all day as he works, finally able to focus on something other than his spider-like growing pains.
He only ever chews on it at home or in the lab, his safe spaces, because he feels weird about people seeing him chew on a teething ring made for babies. Tony never says anything about it though.
If anything, Tony seems happier when Peter uses it.
Billy Hargrove being too shy to ask to be hit during sex, so he just says vile shit that he thinks would make Steve want to hit him.
But Steve is too nice for that.
He stays real sweet, calling Billy a good boy, even when Billy's cursing at him and calling him the meanest fucking things imaginable.
Oblivious™!Steve doesn't realize it until one night where Billy just spells it out for him.
A night when Steve's got Billy over-sensitive, dripping out orgasm number three, when Billy's crying, lust-drunk and overwhelmed, asking, begging, pleading Steve to fucking hit me Steve, fuck, please, god, I just want you to hurt me, please...
Suddenly, Steve isn't so nice.
Steve's a fucking menace; all hair pulling and slaps to the face and spanking and choking and anything, anything Billy wants from him...
Anything to get Billy clenching around him like that. Anything to get Billy crying that he loves him like that, all breathy and desperate and needy.
Yeah, Steve would give up being nice for that any day.
Peter spilled his drink. It was a common reflex to that familiar burn in his arm; the one that scorched the name of his soul match into his inner wrist the moment they met eyes.
The problem is that it was familiar.
Because Peter already felt that burn with Tony Stark – already had Tony’s name etched into his skin – already thought his forever was spoken for.
So if you asked Peter to explain why Steve Rogers and James Barnes were suddenly accompanying Tony's name, he would have no clue how to respond. He’s heard of rare cases before; they always made the news because the likelihood of finding one soul match was low, so finding more than one? Well, that was downright inconceivable.
But at least he wasn't alone in his surprise. James and Steve looked just as confused, staring at him with stunned eyes as his name burned into their wrists too.
And as Tony came around the bar, worried about why his lover had dropped his glass, he felt his wrists burning as well.
The sounds of the woodland floor grate his eardrums, the chill of wind is biting, and the once-comforting scent of a home-cooked meal wafting from the kitchen window makes him grimace. There are small wooden blocks sitting on the porch steps, colorful letters and shapes, haphazardly abandoned in a precarious stack. He kicks them over as he steps up onto the porch, a wave of guilt stirs deep in his chest from hoping those pristine blocks would stain with mud.
He doesn’t want to be here. The world as he knew it is gone – a blip, they call it – such an innocent name for catastrophe. The front door is menacing, with a slight patina on the knob from hands big and unfortunately, small, opening and closing it over time – over years.
It felt like an instant to him.
“Wait up, Peter!” Happy calls from the car, parked at a diagonal in the leaf-littered driveway. He steps out with a big gift box tucked under his arm and a brown paper bag clinking with bottles of wine. They picked them up at a small shop on the way here. The store owner knew Happy well, so he asked about the Starks, asked about Morgan.
It wasn’t fair.
“I asked if you needed help, Hap,” Peter puts on his best grin – he has been practicing it for days in his mirror, ever since he knew this dinner was happening. “Here,” He shuffles back down the porch steps, arms outstretched, “Let me carry the-” Before he can finish, Happy is handing him the gift box. He resists the urge to drop it.
“Thanks, kid,” Happy nods, beeping the car lock and stuffing the keys into his jacket pocket. “Now let’s get inside. Pepper said they have appetizers for us. We're getting the Mrs. Stark three-course specialty.”
Mrs. Stark.
That sounds wrong, so wrong that Peter stalls out for a moment, standing in the driveway with a mile-long stare, beyond the trees and into the autumn fog. His breath is caught in his throat and his lips feel dry. Seconds blink past and for a moment, he wants to get back in the car. He can't do this. He couldn't do it in the aftermath of saving the world. Couldn't do it as he resuscitated Tony on the battlefield after the snap. He couldn't do it when they were portalling to the hospital, and he can't do it here. He can't acknowledge Mrs. Stark.
"Hey Pete, you coming?" Happy interrupts Peter's spiral like flipping a breaker switch back on. It's sudden and a bit frantic, like Peter was caught red-handed with all his lights out.
He blinks.
"Uh… yeah!" He hurries forward, fake smile and obnoxious gift in tow, following Happy up the steps.
"Everything alright, kid?" Happy is concerned; Peter sees it in every wrinkle of his face.
"Yeah, yes, absolutely!" Peter wonders if that sounds convincing enough, so he continues for good measure. "I was just looking around. It's nice out here, with the lake and all. It's quiet. Homey."
"Oh! Right, right, I keep forgetting this is your first time here with all of the—" Happy pauses and gestures conically with his free hand like it would somehow summon the right words, but he shrugs at the end of it. "— the everything." He gives a dejected chuckle, "Wouldn't have pegged Tony as a cabin-in-the-woods guy but Morgan and Pepper love it… the calm, you know. First year after the snap was hard but this worked for them, and now, I mean—" Another pause, he pairs with a hefty sigh and two raised brows. "—time travel! He cracked time travel to get you all back. Everyone fought so hard, and Nat, she… I'm sure she's celebrating like the rest of us are."
Celebrating. Peter wants to stop him there. Anger rips into a boil in his gut and he wants to throw the stupid gift box as far as he can and scream, but he can't. He knows the world is saved – he knows Natasha would be happy about it – so he takes a deep breath, smiles in that practiced way and he nods. He lies. "You're right, Hap. Everything really worked out."
Happy smiles and the conversation ends but before he can knock, the door swings open.
Eye-level is painful; an immediate picture of domestic bliss in the form of wine mom department store decor and color-coordinated throws and pillows. The scene makes Peter’s skin crawl but below eye-level hits him even worse.
“Happy!”
A little girl shorter than where the doorknob sits is clutching a bear and bouncing on her heels, giggling as she jumps forward to hug Happy. She’s wearing Spider-Man pajamas.
Great. Just great.
Happy returns the hug with a belted-out laugh and the familiarity of someone lucky enough to be spared from Thanos’ culling. “Well hi, little missy! How are you?”
Morgan looks like him – like Tony. She’s all smiles and brown hair, and Peter swears that the upturned corner of her mouth is a Tony Stark smirk. Even the way she sasses Happy about calling her little rings with Tony’s flare. She’s his – undoubtedly and unfortunately his.
“Hi, I'm Morgan, I'm four and three-quarters, and I like cheeseburgers! What’s your name?”
Morgan’s innocence makes Peter’s stomach turn with another wave of guilt. He glances back towards the car – it’s quick and overrun with thoughts of escaping this dinner – but then his eyes travel back to her. He smiles again and settles into a squat that puts him eye-to-eye with her. An answer rolls off his tongue, like an autopilot programmed by his years of being a friendly neighborhood superhero. “Hi Morgan, my name’s Peter. Seventeen and a half, plus five years or something? Um… I really like your pajamas. Spider-Man, right?”
Her face lights up like Christmas had come a month early and her hair bounces wildly from her enthusiastic nods. “Yeah! He saved my dad’s life! So he’s my favorite superhero but don’t tell my dad that I said that,” She leans in, whispering with a mischievous glint in her eye. “He gets jealous.”
Peter doesn’t hold back his snort or the belly laugh that follows. It’s genuine and if he wasn’t so well-practiced at keeping his emotions at bay, it probably would have devolved into tears. Morgan is so much like Tony that it hurts. He fixes his fake smile back on and replies, “Your secret’s safe with me, Morg.”
“I like him!” Morgan exclaims toward Happy, all matter-of-fact with hands at her hips like she picked a puppy at a pet store. She gives a silly giggle, turning back to Peter with an outstretched hand, “Let’s be friends, Peter.”
Peter has to hold his breath as he shakes her tiny hand. It’s too small and too big all at once. A tiny innocence that grew in seconds, as far as Peter’s concerned, but he swallows his guilt. Literally and figuratively, clearing his throat before flashing his most honest expression yet: a solemn stare with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a tense close-mouthed smile, “Let’s be best friends, Morg.”
“Please don’t let Morg become a thing.” It's Pepper. Pepper Stark. “Happy, didn’t I tell you and Tony that we are not letting Morg become a thing.”
Happy’s shoulders jump up and down with laughter as he’s ushered into the house with a wave of Pepper’s hand. She doesn’t look that different; same hair, same gait, same style, just motherly in the way she reaches for Morgan’s hand, gently guiding her aside to make room for Happy as he steps into the house.
“Come on, give us a break, Pep! It’s cute!” Happy argues.
“It’s morbid,” Pepper shoots back with a grin of her own but then she pauses, her silent stare trailing to Peter. There’s nothing but concern in her eyes. “Are you coming in, Peter?”
Peter has to take another breath – it’s more obvious, abrupt, deep – it raises some brows but he can’t help this one as it punches out of him like a war-torn trauma response. He shuffles forward, clinging to his composure as he places the gift box just inside the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah, give me a second, left something in the car.” He knows the excuse isn’t bought but it’s enough to get him back down those porch steps, facing nothing but an abyss of trees that he wishes he could disappear in.
Would it be better if I was never brought back?
The thought comes and goes like a lightning strike on the horizon. It startles like one too. Loud and fractalling and burning in his mind as his better judgment stumbles forward and overtakes it. He runs a hand through his curls, frustration in his brow and tension in his shoulders, blinking and huffing out heavy breaths to hold back tears. It’s messy and confusing, but all he’s thinking about is pulling himself together before he ruins something.
“Pete?” It’s Pepper’s voice that comes after him – he cringes at the wave of disappointment that rolls through him.
Peter doesn’t say a word. He just looks at her, standing there in her cardigan with the lakeside home as her backdrop and that ring on her finger.
Nausea and self-pity and burning eyes and clenched teeth.
“What?” He’s rude.
“I know how you must be feeling, Peter,” She starts in the exact way she shouldn’t.
“No, you don’t!” Peter snaps, louder than intended, the echo across the lake makes him flinch. “Sorry, but… you don’t.”
Peter doesn’t know what to expect from her. Anger, maybe? A few lines drawn in the sand to keep him in check around her family. Condescension would be surprising but at least it wouldn’t be whatever she’s doing right now, with all that apologetic sympathy flooding her face. Peter’s guilt gives him another quick jab to his gut.
“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I only came out here to thank you and hope that you’ll come inside to eat.”
Peter squints, “Thank me?”
“For doing what I couldn’t,” Pepper takes a step forward and Peter steps back, bumping against the car.
“What are you talking about?”
“For saving Tony,” She explains, her hands clasped together over her heart. “You know, when Tony built me that suit, Morgan always said that she felt so happy to know that when daddy’s in trouble, mommy will rescue him.” Her hands fall, her eyes squeeze shut, and her voice stutters. “But I froze, Peter.”
He has the urge to yell at her again but he also wants to comfort her and tell her that it's okay. “Pepper, you didn-”
“No, let me finish,” She interrupts, hand held up to stop him from saying what they were both thinking. “I froze. When Tony took his last breath, I couldn’t move or think but you—” She inhales and looks up like she's seconds from losing a fight with her own tears. “—Peter, you didn’t give up on him. You tried everything out there, you got everyone moving to save him even when he wasn’t breathing, and I just stared. I’m so glad you were there, I don’t want to think about what would have happened if… if you weren’t there, Peter.” She lets out a shaky exhale. “So thank you.”
Peter is stunned for a moment, eyes flickering between her and the ground and the trees and the lake and that fucking house. “I didn’t do it for you.”
Pepper nods without an ounce of denial, “I know.”
“Do you? Do you really?” Peter feels himself losing control. How can everyone be so calm when his reality has turned upside down? It would have been better if Pepper was angry. He could deal with angry – not this. “Has Tony even told you about-!”
“Yes,” Pepper answers before Peter can finish. “He told me about you and him – about your relationship.”
“And you don’t care? You’re not angry? Shocked? Nothing? Is what Tony and I had so insignificant that you just don't care about it at all?”
Pepper goes quiet for a moment, long enough to hear the leaves rustle. Her arms cross, clutching around her torso, self-soothing. There is tension in her face as she says it. “He told me about it five years ago, Peter.”
Peter bites his lip and turns around, his vision is clouded with tears and he contemplates running away, web-swinging through the trees until he is far enough away for no one to hear him cry. “That’s not fair,” He breathes out, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. "None of this is fair!"
“It’s not, Pete," Pepper sighs, approaching him carefully and placing a gentle hand against his shoulder. "I’m sorry.”
“I want to hate you so much,” Peter whispers, shrugging her hand off of him. “I want to hate Morgan so much, but…” He sighs, dropping his face against his palms, body falling into a squat as his breaths stutter and tears stream out the corners of his eyes.
He sobs, “I can’t fucking do this.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, kid.”
Fuck. It’s Tony.
Peter thought he was more prepared than this but his entire body flinches upright and recoils a few steps down the driveway before he can stop himself. His mind catches up with his body just in time to see the concern in Tony’s eyes.
He looks better. The bandages that used to be on his neck are gone now and the scarring is setting in, likely all over his shoulder and down his arm. His bruises have yellowed on his jaw and cheekbone, and his hair has grown back everywhere except a few scarred areas above his ear. His arm is in a sling but his hand is in a suit gauntlet, probably to keep it locked in a single position.
Peter sighs and swipes away another round of tears, seeing Tony's recovery – seeing Tony – it helps him find his calm again but his heart still quakes with rage. "Why did you want me to come over today, Tony? I said no so many times but you just couldn't resist, could you?” He scoffs, “What? Did you just want to rub all of this in my face?"
His words are harsh, more than the wind that picks up for a moment and bites at his ears with a chill. Tony looks hurt – good, be hurt, Peter thinks, and his guilt doesn't attack him in the same way as it did for Morgan and Pepper.
Tony sighs, “I pushed for you to come over because I missed you, Pete – selfish as always, I know – but you’re the only one I haven’t seen yet and you saved me after the snap, and I-”
“Don't you dare say that you missed me!” Peter draws the line in the sand first.
“Kid, I did miss you! I thought about you every day,” Tony says but as he does, his eyes blink over to Pepper. It's brief, a stray glance so easily misinterpreted.
“Says the man with the wife and kid,” Peter taunts, spiteful yet shaky. “You didn’t think about me at all! You thought about wedding plans and changing diapers. If you thought about me, you would’ve figured this out in year one! But you waited! For five fucking years, Tony! You waited. Some genius you are!”
Pepper gasps, stepping backward and looking at Tony with tears in her eyes. It's not anger or resentment – it's more concern like Peter was steamrolling over progress and scorching the earth in his wake.
Tony takes a deep breath and steps closer, only an arms-length away. “You know that’s not how that works, Pete.” He inhales, slow and shaky, puffing it all at once, his eyes watering. “ I tried but the science didn’t add up until we had the quantum tunnel and the tests were never repeatable and-”
“Don’t patronize me, Tony,” Peter rolls his eyes but he can feel the tears still sliding down the contours of his cheeks and chilling in the wind. “I know how science works but I also know you gave up!”
"You think I gave up on you?!" Tony raises his voice, "Peter, I tore myself apart trying to get you back!"
"So why the fuck is Morgan four?!" Peter yells just as loud. "Don't lie to me, Tony! Just say it! Say you never loved me! Say you never wanted to be with me!" He reaches into the collar of his shirt, pulling out his necklace, a small chain with a silver-banded ring hanging from it. “Tell me!” He holds it up between their gazes. "Tell me that this never mattered to you!"
Tony gasps and looks away, lifting his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose in frustration. He sighs, “Peter, I don’t want to argue with you.”
“Right,” Peter’s breath is wet from all his sobbing. “You just want me to smile and be a nice house guest. You want me to forget about everything we had.”
“Peter, it was five years ago, you couldn’t expect me to-”
“It was last month!” Peter screams – it echoes over the lake just like before but he doesn’t flinch this time “It’s been one month! I hate that everyone keeps saying five years! You gave me this ring two months ago. We went on that trip together three months ago!” He reaches for Tony’s hand, clasping it, trembling. “Please stop making me feel like you don’t care.”
“Peter, it’s not that I don’t care, but… my feelings have changed." Tony sighs again. "It's been a long time for me. I care for you and I have love for you, but not like I did when I gave you that ring. I'm sorry.” He looks down at their hands, "I was too selfish for wanting to see you now. I just wanted to thank you for saving me. I wanted you to meet my daughter, Pete. I wanted to work in the lab with you again, but… I was wrong. I understand now, okay?" He looks up, locking his gaze with Peter’s. "You deserve time too. I'm sorry for pushing you."
Peter desperately shakes his head, "Tony, I don't want time. I want you!"
"No, Peter," Tony pulls his hand away. "I don't want to hurt your feelings but you have to understand, I-"
"No Tony,” Peter sobs, pleading. “Please don't say it."
We all know that Steve doesn't know what kinks are. Not really anyways. He's spanked a girl before. That’s kinky, right? Oh yeah, and that one time he used that girl’s shirt as a blindfold.
That’s gotta count, right Munson?
He’s asking because Eddie is staring at him with unimpressed eyes, a proverbial that’s really all you’ve done? And yeah, that is all Steve Harrington has done. He was as vanilla as they come.
Eddie was the opposite, of course.
But when they started dating, he was so caught up in disbelief because his crush – his crush for years – was finally looking at him and only him. (All it took was surviving a few hundred rabid bats in Hell, no big deal.) So if he had to be a little tame in the sheets, he would. Steve was worth it.
But there are moments where Eddie pushes his luck.
Like the time he found Steve’s old Scoops Ahoy uniform tucked under the bed and convinced him to wear it because come on, just show me what you looked like in it, Harrington, I bet you were a real stunner! He only wished that it came with a matching skirt instead.
Or any time he can manage to hold Steve down by his neck in bed. Even if he doesn’t put any pressure in his grip, the thought of choking him is enough, right? And if Steve asked about it, the heat of the moment was Eddie’s best excuse.
It was his excuse that time he tied Steve’s hands to the headboard with his guitar’s strap. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but Steve was laughing about it, so he took his chance. Pretending like it was just a silly thing to do, and that it wasn’t making his heart race uncontrollably.
But he may have pushed his luck way beyond the boundary last night, when he spit in Steve’s mouth and called him a good boy. And by ‘may have’, he meant definitely, because Steve’s been avoiding him for a few days and the panic was starting to set in.
And that’s why Eddie is at Steve’s door now; to apologize, to explain, to beg for forgiveness...
But Steve’s not upset at him. He apologizes for the radio silence but it wasn’t because of you, Eddie. He’s pacing around his room, explaining how no one’s ever called me that before and I’m kind of losing it over here, because why do I like it? It feels wrong, and I’m not trying to freak you out or anything, but I really fucking liked it.
And Eddie just smiles at him, eyes lighting up because he can see it.
Steve may not know what kinks are, but he can learn. Like a good boy.
He and Tony had discussed it at length; he would go into the lab, sit at the big desk, the one closest to the door, and work through his matrices like usual. He didn’t need to respond or react – in fact, Tony told him to try his best to not say anything.
Just ignore it, baby boy. They’ll like it better that way.
And they were somewhere down the hall, in another room of the Tower, waiting exactly where Tony discussed they would be. It was endearing, really. All the careful planning Tony did for him. The weeks of agreements and consents and preparation. It made sitting at that desk so much easier, so much safer. More than his collar alone made him feel. He had begged Tony to let him wear it today – the thin diamond studded leather – and he reluctantly allowed it, knowing the mess it would be facing but being swayed by Peter’s soft pleads and big brown eyes.
But Peter was so thankful for it, thankful for the way Tony gently tugged against the back of it, bringing him back to the present, back to the desk, back to his math homework and everything that would be happening as he completed it.
“Are you ready, princess?” His voice sent a chill down Peter’s spine.
“Yes, daddy.”
It was quiet for a minute after that; Tony moved out of view to another lab desk, tinkering with something, as Peter scribbled an answer down for question number one. It only served to make the sound of the door sliding open more jarring. The sound of shoes squeaking against the floor were more thunderous as they approached him from behind. The sound of a step stool being unfolded and placed directly next to him rang in his ear. It was all so loud to him in the calm of the lab but Peter was good, so he focused on his homework.
“Hey Tony, mind if I use this?” Steve called out, one of his feet already stepping up onto the stool, his hands already undoing his belt right next to Peter’s face.
“Yeah, I don’t care, use it however you want,” Tony called back, not bothering to even peek around the corner.
Not that Peter wanted him to.
No, Peter wanted to feel like a this; like an it. He wanted to sit there, trying to solve math problems while Steve, or whoever else Tony had come through that door, masturbated against his face. It was a better feeling than he imagined it being.
Steve was soft with him. He kept one hand in Peter’s curls and the other at his own cock, pumping tirelessly with the head pressed into the plump of Peter’s cheek, already oozing precum and not being shy about smearing it down the line of Peter’s jaw. All the while petting gentle fingers through Peter’s curls.
And Peter was trying to focus on question number two, but his pencil had stopped moving and his face was starting to go hot as his brain was absorbed by the lewd blend of Steve’s groans and that eager stroking so near his ear. He was so caught up in the experience that he didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Steve was finishing. Peter exhaled heavy, feeling goosebumps light up his skin as cum erupted against his face, three strong pumps against his cheek and forehead and in his hair.
“Thanks, Tony!” Steve was so casual about it, shouting out his thanks to Tony like Peter was nothing more than an object to use and ignore. It had him fighting off a whine that sat at the back of his throat as Steve stepped down, buckling his belt as he left the lab.
Peter had to erase everything he wrote for question two; it was all wrong.
After Steve, it was only seconds before the lab door opened again. This time it was Sam and Bucky.
“Tony, Steve said you don’t care if we use this, is that right?”
Sam asked but Bucky was already on Peter, already standing on the stool with his cock out, fisting at it like he was seconds away from orgasm. His free hand was gripped in Peter's hair, forcing his lips against his cock.
“Yeah, whatever,” Tony called back, almost like he was annoyed by the question. His indifference made Peter slip up, made him moan against Bucky’s cock as it pulsated and shot a thick white in and all around his mouth.
And he was so enraptured by Bucky’s hold that Peter didn’t notice Sam was already close to his climax too; trading places with Bucky just in time to spew more cum against his face.
Bucky and Sam were gone before Peter could even contemplate a better answer for question two. The cum on his face was thick in some places, and runny in others, dripping down his chin and neck, pooling against the seam of his collar and beyond, soaking into his t-shirt. He was starting to feel quite heady in his arousal with each wicked thought that buzzed through his mind being about how filthily he was used. Needless to say, it was becoming difficult to think about math, though he still played his part. Keeping his pencil in hand, eyes fixed on the page, regardless of how hard he was getting in his jeans.
The door opened for a third time. It was Thor, and from the sound of it, he was already pumping at his cock as he walked in.
“Don’t mind me, Stark, just going to use this right quick then I’ll be out of your hair!”
Tony didn’t even use words this time; all he spared was a short hum of agreement like Thor was asking to borrow a spare pen. Peter felt his breath hitch as Thor pulled the stool to Peter’s other side and wasted no time in caking his face in cum.
Peter guessed that the god of thunder would be more potent than others, but he didn’t think it would feel like a cup of liquid syrup gushing against his hair and nose and cheeks. Weighing down his curls and trickling against his shoulder, seeping into his t-shirt and dripping down his arm. The wet and sticky sensation left him feeling positively debased, and aching for his own release.
But they weren’t done.
As soon as Thor left, Bruce walked in. Peter knew it was him without needing to look; professor Hulk’s footsteps weren’t exactly light and he also didn’t need the step stool. He pushed the fucking step stool away like it was a joke as he approached, and just like everyone else, he was already sporting an erection.
Peter knew he wasn’t supposed to look, but who wouldn’t steal a quick glance at the Hulk’s cock? He almost broke character at the sight of it – the size of it – but the sound of Tony clearing his throat stole his attention. Peter looked up and then quickly snapped his eyes back down toward his homework.
Tony was finally back in view, watching as Bruce rubbed the head of his cock against Peter’s face and shoulder. He seemed tense, and Peter knew why; this part was over-negotiated. Bruce wasn’t allowed to touch Peter with his hands. Tony didn’t want his baby boy getting hurt. So Tony wasn’t just watching – no, Tony was enforcing – like he would step in and interrupt if the Hulk stepped out of line. And the thought of that alone made Peter’s brain feel like mush, like he was high, like he could float up from his seat from the ecstasy of it all.
Yet one groan from Bruce brought Peter down to earth because the next moment left him feeling undeniably defiled and so positively delirious. The amount of cum that hit his face made Thor’s seem like a light spritz. The initial pump surprised him so much that he broke his pencil in two and found himself reactively holding his breath and closing his eyes. It was like a torrent of honey down his back, a flood of hot and creamy liquid that pooled in between his thighs and trickled down his legs and left his shirt feeling soggy.
And there were two more spurts just like that before Bruce was finished, tucking himself back into his pants as he left the lab.
Peter had to swipe away cum that was threatening to drip in his eyes but it almost felt pointless with how much was clinging to his palms. He felt another whine bubble up as he looked down at his very incomplete homework and how wet the bottom of the page was. His next desperate little whine was motivated by how tight his wet jeans felt on his touch-starved cock.
“Stand up, princess.” Tony was suddenly right next to Peter. “We’re not done.”
Peter had no willpower to do anything but pliantly obey, moving to his feet slowly so he didn’t slip, moaning at the sensation of cum dripping everywhere down his body. He took one step towards Tony before he was being folded onto the lab desk, a guiding hand gripping like a threat against the back of his neck and the other yanking his jeans down past his ankles. Peter’s skin and t-shirt clung coldly to the surface of the desk, making him shiver as he was held there.
“Look at you,” Tony hummed, bringing his hand down to spank against the plump of Peter’s ass before pressing at the plug that was fitted so loosely in his hole. “Such a sloppy thing. You like being covered in other men’s cum, baby boy?”
“Yes, daddy,” Peter dragged it out, forced to by the way Tony pressed at the plug before quickly pulling it out. The sensation made Peter’s legs go weak beneath him, made him appreciate that the desk was there to help him stay on his feet. Even more so as Tony reached forward, gathering cum that was sticky on Peter’s face, letting it coat his palm, using it to slick his fingers into Peter’s ass.
Peter gasped, his back arching slightly as Tony’s fingers went as deep as they could, slathering his insides with that sinful mixture of semen. “Daddy, please!” He felt like he was burning and freezing all at once, and the wound up desire coiling in his stomach only made it worse.
“Please, what?” Tony laughed at him, keeping his fingering and his hold on the back of Peter’s neck steady. “Did all that cock in your face make you forget how to use your words, princess? Couldn’t even finish your homework. What a stupid little cum dump.”
That ripped a moan from somewhere deep in Peter, sending a wave of pleasure through his body, threatening to make him come. Though he fought against it, breathing through the throbbing fervor like his life depended on it. “Please, I want your cock inside me, daddy, please, please-”
What happened after that had Peter seeing stars. In one breath, Tony was pulling his fingers out. On the next, he was burying his cock as deep as it would go and pressing his weight into it, pinning Peter against the desk with the force of his cock.
It left Peter writhing beneath him, screaming from the burn of being filled so quickly, and shaking from the orgasm it so mercilessly triggered. The volatile bliss hit him so hard that his vision went white for a blink and his head drooped against the desk as his cock released spurts of cum in waves of ruthless pleasure that he was drowning in.
So when Tony began thrusting and Peter had nowhere to run, he sobbed, his vision going blurry with tears. “Daddy, t-too much! I came-!”
“I don’t care, baby,” Tony was grinning, Peter could hear it in that arrogant tone of his voice. “Ask for permission next time or this is what you get.”
Peter instantly regretted saying anything because without warning, Tony was grabbing at his spent cock and pumping at it in time with each thrust of his hips. It was the most decadent agony. A pleasure that had his body flexing and spasming uncontrollably. It felt so intense that he couldn’t string together a sentence, even to beg for Tony to come inside of him. He had no choice but to lay there, trapped by the force of Tony’s hold for seconds that felt like minutes of sweet torture, struggling to breathe between the fast paced in and out of Tony’s cock.
At the end of those drawn out seconds, Tony was coming. Buried to the hilt and groaning as his cum warmed Peter’s insides. He kept himself there, still pumping at Peter’s cock as he leaned down to whisper, all sweet and encouraging, “C’mon, princess. You can do it. Show daddy how good you are.”
Peter was addicted to that; being good for Tony. His body was hardwired for it. Those words were all it took for a second orgasm to ripple throughout his exhausted frame and pull clear squirts from the tip of his cock.
“Daddy,” Peter’s voice was hoarse and his muscles had all given up, and his head was spacey and light as he laid against the desk, feeling every inch of sensation in his body when Tony pulled out. Warm cum leaking out to join the cooled cum that stuck to his legs. The gentle hold Tony had on him to keep him from sliding off the desk.
“You did so good, baby boy,” Tony’s praise made Peter’s already spacey head feel more airy.
