the whole city feared anthony edward stark, mafia mob boss. at least normal people did. some crazy ones were desperately trying to find what was the man’s weak spot. but none of them were able to find it and they all ended up thinking he really was unstoppable.
tony had a weak spot. a big one. a precious one. and he kept it hidden from everybody, safe.
Peter was led back to his chambers, wrapped in his Lord’s cloak and smiling bright as his eyes fell upon Tony once the guard had opened his door. Peter ran into the room, giggling as Tony turned and opened his arms to welcome him. Peter pulled the the string that kept the coat secure on his neck and let it fall to floor before jumping into his Lord’s arms.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you, my Dove,” Tony gushed, peppering kisses all over Peter’s face as his fingers dug into his ass. “In so many ways—” Peter giggled and silenced him with an enthusiastic kiss; rolling his tongue and drinking Tony down as if it would be the last he’d be able to. “I have a gift,” Tony whispered against Peter’s lips.
Peter gasped dramatically and kicked his legs until Tony dropped him. Peter laughed with a wild smile, teeth on show as he clapped his hands and jumped a little as Tony unlocked a large, gold plated chest and revealed three large eggs. Peter approached them carefully— hesitant incase what he was seeing was nothing more than an hallucination; a dream. This can’t be real.
Peter knelt down on the floor, fingers creeping over the gold and fussing with the hay that kept the eggs secure and warm and gazed upon them. This had to be a dream. Peter looked up at Tony hesitantly, finding him nodding for Peter to reach out and touch. Peter studied shades of red, gold, emerald and matte black. It looked as if the eggs were smouldering underneath each scale. Peter reached in slowly and picked up the middle egg as if it was glass and brought it to lay on his knees, thumbs rubbing the scales daintily.
“Tend to them. Keep them warm. Mother them. They’re due to hatch any day. These are my gift to you, my Dove. I do not know if they’ll live— We haven’t had a successful hatch in—“
“Almost thirty years,” Peter finished, eyes tearing up slightly at the sight of the thickly scaled emerald egg in his hands, eyes darting between Tony and the other eggs. “The last dragon that lived was almost thirty years ago. It was your fathers. My father told me stories of when baby dragons would roam the skies and snatch meat from tables and if you were gentle enough, you could pet them. He loved the green ones. I’ve always wanted to see a green dragon—“
Peter realised he was rambling as his fingers trailed up and down the scales as he cradled the egg in his arms and looked up at Tony timidly. He found his Lord staring down at him with adoring eyes, smiling softly.
@starkerscoop @staticwhispersinthedark and @jordanparker , this is for you 🥺💞💕
---
Rival/Soulmate
Mafia AU
Mafia Boss Tony and Mafia Boss Peter (referring to this)
Popstar AU
Peter the Popstar likes dresses, what can I say? 🙈
Royalty/Supernatural AU
Prince or King Tony spots someone outside his window.. a very unfamiliar looking person.
..
Is that person even a person?
Teacher/Serial Killer-Detective AU
Teacher Tony and Student Peter.
Tony, who was a detective back in the day- one of the greatest, actually, and has now left the force to teach.
Peter, who has a hidden but extremely unhealthy obsession over his teacher- who he stalks and follows. He has killed men and women of all ages that even dare try to get close to Tony, someone who they don't fcking deserve except him. Him and only him.
(Extended part of this story):
So for Tony to get a call from one of his friends from the force, Rhodey, asking him for his help to solve a case of a serial killer (With Tony saying "No" because he doesn't work for the force anymore, but does say yes after Rhodey explains that a lot of people has been killed in Tony's town and they haven't even gotten at least a hint from this killer.
Somehow, this sends a chill down Tony's spine. Not because of the lack of hints or the bodies, but rather as Rhodey tells Tony all of the victims' names, Tony realizes that he has met these people one way or another. Not one, not two, but all of them.
There's a killer up ahead, and they're obsessed with the ex-detective.
TW: GORE
Canon Divergence
After Endgame. Tony has left EDITH for Peter, as well as an arc reactor shaped projector, that projects an AI version of Tony. A hologram designed to help and assist Peter while Tony's not there. T.O.N.Y.
T.O.N.Y. has romantically loved Peter, or at least, that's what Peter wished-
But at the end of the day, Peter has to accept the fact that Tony won't come back, and all that's left is his hologram.
---
Sorry this took a while to post!!! 🙈💀 Some stuff came up and I had to refine (?) the sketches so you can see em clearly 💀🥺💞
Hope this was alright!!! And tysm for everyone, tysm for everything 🥺💓 ty for your support and encouragement 🥺🥺 and I hope you have/had a wonderful day!! 🙈💕💞💓
“ Mr Stark? This is Peter. Parker. I saved this kitten from a tree today, but I just couldn’t find the owner and Aunt May said we couldn’t keep her, but she’s adorable, Mr Stark.
(it's still April somewhere in the world right? lol)
-
Through Your Eyes
Peter’s agent didn’t tell him much about this new project the photographer is working on. She just said that Tony’s working on his first book, something that’s been highly anticipated in the industry, and agencies everywhere are offering up their models to be featured in it. It’s no surprise, really. Tony has been known to catapult more than one aspiring model into stardom with just one well-composed photograph.
It should be right up Peter’s alley. He’s got tons of experience doing boudoir stuff, though never with a photographer as acclaimed as Tony Stark. A lot of them were just sleazeballs with a camera looking for excuses to take pictures of naked models and maybe sleep with them after. Peter’s always turned down such propositions which is why he often finds himself excluded from the final selection of photographs that make it to the galleries.
Peter’s greeted at the apartment building’s lobby by a beautiful slim woman with neatly-tied auburn hair and a septum piercing.
“Peter, right?” she says, shaking his hand. “I’m Friday. Come on up.”
Peter follows her to the elevator where she presses the button for the penthouse. It’s a long ride up and Peter drums his fingers on his thighs as he watches the numbers go up.
“Nervous?” Friday asks. At Peter’s bashful nod, she continues, “don’t be. He doesn’t bite. Unless you want him to.” She smirks at that.
Upon entry, she leads him straight to the dining room which has been transformed into something like a staging area. There are bright lights all over the place, various makeup tools strewn all over the table, racks of clothing and boards of polaroids along the walls.
“Talent’s here,” Friday calls out as she directs Peter to sit in front of the large mirror with the vanity lights.
If Peter’s heart was racing before because of his nerves, it completely stuttered to a stop now at the sight of Tony Stark walking in. The photographer could be a model himself with how devastatingly handsome he is. He’s dressed casually, in dark jeans and a t-shirt sporting the logo of a band Peter doesn’t recognize, but he fills them beautifully, the thin fabric draping snugly over his solid body. He’s got his signature thick-framed glasses, lenses slightly tinted red. He lifts them until they’re perched on his dark hair and he approaches Peter to scrutinize him. He’s got dark, soulful eyes under strong brows, and a sharp jawline carved with a neat bit of stubble.
Peter’s heart shudders back to life with a painful thud at the sight of Tony’s bright, brown eyes up close. “H-hi, I’m Peter,” he stammers.
The older man smirks. “Tony,” he says. He takes Peter’s chin to lift his face up gently, tilting it ever so slightly to the side.
Peter feels his face warm at the attention. He looks away, feeling like he might actually catch fire if he keeps eye contact with the other man.
Tony hums. “Pretty. Don’t bother with pigments, I wanna see that blush. Just give him some strobe cream, a little highlight. Brush out those lashes and brows. Leave his hair as is.”
“You got it, boss,” Friday says, and Peter realizes Tony was talking to her.
As suddenly as Tony walked in the room and took all the air out of it, he breezes right out, leaving Peter breathless and star-struck.
“Well, that makes my job a lot easier,” Friday says, smiling at him. “I love the cute ones.”
Friday does as she’s instructed and it doesn’t take long at all until she’s done and directing him to the rack of delicate looking lingerie in a myriad of styles and colours.
Peter stares at them blankly. “Um, which one am I supposed to wear?”
“Hm?” Friday looks up from tidying up her kit. “Oh, you can just pick which one or two you like best.” Peter must look as perplexed as he feels because she continues, “it’s a thing he’s doing. He wants the subjects’ preferences to shine through the photographs. Something about the true self being revealed through the freedom of choice or whatever, I don’t know, you can ask him if you want. But he’d prefer if you pick one yourself.”
Peter looks back at the options, running his fingers through the fine lace and soft satins. They’re all so beautiful and expensive looking, but Peter finds himself drawn to the powdery white ones, sheer delicate things like finely spun gossamer.
Friday helps him step into the finicky straps and adjust the tiny slips of fabric around his body. Peter turns slowly in front of the mirror, surveying his reflection. The pure white of the material brings out the colour in his complexion and makes his skin look extra soft and smooth under the see-through fabric. There’s something chaste and bridal about all that lace and white, but it’s still ridiculously sexy, leaving nothing to the imagination, just adding an extra bit of sensual whimsy to his appearance.
“You ready?” Friday asks.
Peter nods and lets her lead him to the living room where Tony is waiting.
The older man looks up from adjusting the standing lights he’s got strewn around the room. He smiles when he sees them walk in and Peter blushes again. It’s ridiculous. Peter’s done so many of these kinds of shoots before, often wearing nothing at all. But there’s something about the way Tony looks at him. It’s not the gross sort of hunger he’s used to getting. There’s something soft in Tony’s gaze. He makes Peter feel… beautiful.
“How’s the temperature? Comfortable enough?” Tony asks after Friday takes her leave.
“It’s fine,” Peter replies, fidgeting with the hem of his babydoll. “Um, where should I go?”
Tony picks up his camera. “Let’s just do a bit of warm-ups first. Make yourself at home. Walk around, whatever’s comfortable for you. I’ll let you know if I want you somewhere specific.”
Peter nods like he understands, even though he doesn’t. Not really. Most photographers are very particular about how they want him. Lie down like that, legs open, arch your back, ass out, there you go, look this way.
Peter steps further into the room tentatively, wondering how to look sexy just by walking. He looks around, trying to find a nice piece of furniture he can attractively drape himself over. But then his eyes fall onto the ornament on the centre of the coffee table. It’s a set of polished quartz spheres in various vibrant colours, placed in an indented pattern on a round wooden tray. It’s a peg solitaire board, but a really fancy, expensive-looking one.
Peter walks over to it to get a closer look, crouching slightly to pick up one of the spherical quartz pieces. He sees Tony out of the corner of his eye and the sounds of the camera shutter going off as Peter studies ornament. It’s smooth and hefty, each exquisitely crafted piece like a little round galaxy. It’s more of a work of art than a puzzle game.
As Peter sets the quartz piece back onto its place, he spots the framed picture next to the solitaire board. It’s a photograph of a group of friends with their arms around each other, smiling and laughing. Tony is one of them.
“Is this your apartment?” Peter asks, turning to look at the other man.
Tony looks up from behind his camera.
“Sorry,” Peter mumbles, looking down.
“No, we can chat if you want. Just pretend the camera’s not here.” Tony lifts up the camera and starts taking pictures again, even though Peter’s just standing there. “Yeah, this is my place. The book I’m working on is basically just subjects in this one setting. It’s partly an exercise on my part, seeing how much I can pull from a limited space. But it’s also capturing how subjects interact with it, how different people respond when given the same set of stimuli.”
Peter chances a sly smile. “All while wearing lingerie?”
Tony returns it with a smirk. “Bare in the body, bare in the soul, is what I always say.”
“And this setting is how youbare yourself, right?” Peter guesses. “We take off our clothes to invite you to look at our bodies while you invite us to your home to look into you. It’s almost like an indirect self-portrait in a way.”
Tony’s smile widens, looking equal parts pleased and impressed. “See, you get it! Maybe you can talk to my editor and convince her this is a good idea. Beauty and brains. I’m in love with you already.” He lifts up his camera and quickly captures Peter’s blush at the remark. “Must be why you were drawn to the puzzle, huh? Wanna play? Show me what you can do.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Sit down and I’ll just adjust the lights.” Tony directs Peter to sit in front of the coffee table and moves some of the standing lights around.
Peter feels the heat of the lights on him as he studies the puzzle. “You’re not gonna time me, right? It’s been so long since I played this.” He takes out the centre piece to begin the game and looks up at the other man who’s got his camera up and ready. “Should I play for a pattern or just the usual one left over?”
Tony looks amused. “Whatever tickles your fancy, sweetheart. I’m just here to take photos.”
Peter flushes. “Heh, right. Sorry. Um, okay.”
He starts moving the quartz pieces, jumping over adjacent ones and removing each jumped pieces as he goes. It’s easy at first, but as he moves away from the centre of the puzzle, his movements require more thought. As he thinks about his next steps, Peter hears the shutter of Tony’s camera continuing to click in the background. So engrossed he was in the game, Peter almost forgot that he was sitting there practically naked, being photographed.
Unable to resist, Peter looks up at the camera and Tony quickly captures the moment he locks eyes with the lens. Peter can’t help but smile at that and Tony takes a picture of that too.
As Peter returns his attention to the game, he vaguely registers Tony moving around, snapping photos of him at various angles. He doesn’t give Peter much direction other than to move his shoulders back out of the light, or his arm ever so slightly to the side. For the most part, he lets Peter work on his puzzle. It’s probably one of the most comfortable and most fun shoots Peter has ever done.
“Ha-hah!” Peter exclaims, removing the last piece with a flourish and setting it down with the others on the rim of the tray. “I did it! It’s not at the centre, but there’s just the one left!”
“Well done,” Tony praises.
Peter does a cheesy little victory pose next to his empty puzzle tray, making a peace sign and sticking his tongue out playfully with a wink. Tony obliges him with snap of his camera, laughing as he looks at the result on the monitor.
“That was fun,” Peter sighs, stretching out to lean back on the legs of the sofa behind him. He smiles lazily as Tony continues to take pictures of him. The game may be over but it doesn’t seem like the session is.
"Are you comfortable? Tony asks, face still hidden behind the camera. "You can get up on the couch if you want."
Peter lifts himself up off the floor as gracefully as he can to recline on the sofa's soft cushions with his head resting on the arm rest, one leg bent and leaning on the back pillows, sheer babydoll rucked up to reveal his panties. He watches Tony adjust the angles of the standing lights, then swap out the lens on his camera's body. The older man has large but dexterous hands, his movements deft and quick as he tinkers with his equipment.
Tony climbs onto the sofa to kneel in front of Peter, eyeing him for a few analytical seconds before lifting his camera up and begins snapping pictures.
As fun as it was to get to play the puzzle, this is what's familiar to Peter, spread out underneath the gaping maw of a photographer's 50mm lens, looking up at them with wide, inviting eyes. He falls into the motions easily, giving Tony all his best angles and poses.
"You have such beautiful skin," Tony comments. He rests on his haunches and considers Peter with his brown, thoughtful eyes. "May I?" he asks, one hand hovering over the babydoll on Peter's stomach.
Peter nods. He watches as Tony gently lifts the material up, arranging them artfully so it billows up beside him. He can feel the warmth of Tony's hand, the ghost-touch of it like a light kiss of a breeze, and he tries to hold himself back from arching up to it.
"Don't wanna hide those lovely freckles," Tony says, referring to the light speckles around Peter's bellybutton. He goes back behind his camera and starts taking photos from a lower angle. "Why did you choose this particular piece to wear?"
Peter shrugs. "I don't know. I like the colour. And it's soft. I like that."
Tony chuckles. "You have a good eye. You know how to play to your strengths. Soft." He shuffles closer and Peter spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate him. "Innocent." He leans forward, drops a bit lower so that the picture he's taking must look like what someone would see if they're situated between Peter's legs, eating him out. "Pretty." The sounds of the camera's shutter coincides with the beating of Peter's quickening heart.
"I'm sure you've had a lot of pretty models," Peter says, squirming a little. Having Tony so close to his crotch is starting to make him a little hard.
Tony smirks from behind his camera. "Had them to photograph? Sure."
"Have you had them anywhere else?"
"You mean in my bed?" Tony continues to take pictures of him, seemingly unbothered by this line of questioning. "No. Never."
"You've never wanted to?"
Tony pauses to look up at him. "No. Not until now."
"Oh," Peter breathes.
"Does that bother you?" Tony's expression is open and genuine, like if Peter were to get up and leave, he would simply let him go. Tony's not the first photographer who's admitted that they wanted to sleep with him, but he's the first one to ever make Peter feel safe, to not make him feel dirty for it.
"No," Peter replies honestly.
Tony continues to take photos of him like nothing happened and Peter continues to watch him do so, a little perplexed at this enigma of a photographer.
Peter trails a finger down his chest, picking lightly at the sheer fabric that barely covers his nipples. He sees Tony twisting the lens to zoom in on the movement, shutter going off rapidly.
"Is it because I made such good time on that puzzle?" Peter asks teasingly.
"Hmm?" Tony hums absently, still engrossed behind his camera.
Peter lifts one foot and trails it up Tony's thigh. "You've never wanted to sleep with your models before. What changed? Did I beat everyone's record on the solitaire board?"
Tony finally puts down his camera, but he's smiling, hand curling up to cup Peter's calf, thumb rubbing at the smooth skin. "You're the first one to even know what that thing was, let alone play and solve it."
Peter grins, pleased. He grows bolder, foot trailing further up until it reaches Tony's jeans-clad crotch. He grins wider in delight, feeling the older man's hardness through the fabric. He presses his toes into it, massaging the erection. "I'm good at other things too."
Tony groans softly, grabbing at Peter’s ankle but not pushing him away. “I’m sure you are, sweetheart.” His hand caresses slowly up Peter’s leg, up over his slender thighs to reach the sheer fabric of his panties, skimming feather light over his lace-wrapped cock. "Pretty all over too. You're very good at making people want you. I don't know if I can hold back much longer."
"Then why are you?" Peter murmurs, shifting his hips, pushing up to Tony's touch.
Tony looks him in the eyes, his expression strangely vulnerable even as he's rubbing Peter gently through his panties. "Peter, the moment I saw you I already decided that I was going to put you on the cover of my book. You already got it. You don't have to-"
Peter leans up on his elbows, slightly incredulous. "I know I don't have to. I want to. Tony, I wasn't even thinking about that. Did you think I was just trying to get favours out of you or something?"
Tony lifts up the camera and takes pictures of Peter in this new position.
Peter sits up until he's kneeling in front of Tony, hand covering the lens of the camera and pushing it away gently. "You're hiding," he says.
"That's why I'm behind the camera, not in front of it," Tony says. Gosh, his eyes. Peter doesn't think he's ever seen eyes like that. Peter's the one who's barely wearing anything but Tony's eyes look more open and naked than he is. It's the kind of eyes that can see the beauty in things and capture them, but it's also the kind of eyes that hide nothing behind them.
Peter leans up and kisses him, soft and slow. "I want you."
Tony sets the camera aside and kisses him back.
--
Peter wakes in a king bed under a fluff of blankets, the morning light streaming in through the windows of the penthouse. The other side of the bed is empty but still warm to the touch.
“Tony?” he calls.
“Out here, baby,” Tony’s voice rings out through the open bedroom door.
Peter swings his legs out of the bed and grabs what looks to be Tony’s shirt, discarded on the floor. He pulls it on, smiling at the picture on Tony’s bedside. It’s the photo of Peter being silly after solving that puzzle game during the photo shoot where they first met nine months ago. It didn’t make the book but Tony loved it so much he had it printed and framed.
Peter walks out to the dining room, the hem of Tony’s shirt swaying over the tops of his thighs. He spots Tony opening a large cardboard box that’s been set on the dining table, taking out a hardcover book from inside it.
“It’s here?” Peter asks, approaching his boyfriend, sliding an arm around his waist and kissing his scruffy cheek.
“Yep.” Tony grins, turning the book to show him the cover. It’s Peter, sitting on the carpet in their living room, leaning over the solitaire board puzzle, looking up at the camera with a playful grin. He’s wearing lingerie but that’s not the focus of the image, it’s the look on his face, the twinkle in his eyes as he watched Tony watching him.
Peter picks up one of the books and skims through the contents. It’s a collection of people photographed in Tony’s living room in various states of undress but it’s intimate in a way that’s not overtly erotic. There’s some models Peter recognizes from other agencies, beautiful young men and women whose boudoir work he’s seen before. But here, while they’re scantily clad in racy lingerie, they look like they’re just hanging out with a friend, sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine, or laughing at something Tony must have said during the shoot. It’s a testament to Tony’s skill as a photographer that he’s created an environment so casual and comfortable to capture these moments in just this one room with an artistic eye.
And then there’s Peter’s spread. Tony’s included the shots of him playing the peg solitaire puzzle, but there’s also the shots of him spread out on the sofa looking up at him. Peter’s always been a little vain, he’s a model after all. But he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so beautiful as to when it’s Tony’s camera taking his picture. Maybe because it’s Tony behind the camera that Peter even looks like that. It seems like Tony’s the only one who could pull something so raw yet so soft from him, to bring out a part of himself he was never comfortable enough to show anyone else.
“Do you like it?” Tony asks, a little nervously.
“It’s amazing,” Peter says truthfully, smiling up at him. “You’re amazing.”
“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re on the cover,” Tony says playfully.
“Well, yes,” Peter laughs. “But seriously. This truly is amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
Tony takes the book Peter’s holding and opens it to the dedication page.
For Peter,
my muse, my angel, my love
“Couldn’t have done it without you, sweetheart,” Tony says softly.
A warmth spreads over Peter’s body as he smiles up at him. “You could. But I’m so glad you took me on this ride anyway.”
Tony pulls him close and kisses him. “I love you.”
Peter is sent by SHIELD to infiltrate the empire of Tony Stark, one of the most dangerous mafia bosses in New York. And after a few weeks of playing the shy, innocent boy he indeed manages to become Tony's lover and most trusted person. What SHIELD didn't take into account though, is that Peter might get in too deep and actually fall for the powerful man who would do anything to keep him safe.
“Who would’ve thought we were gonna use the mirror like this, hm, sweetheart?” Tony grinned when he got a whimper in response.
They had the mirror propped up against the wall in its usual spot, only this time, they weren’t using it to check out their outfit of the day. This time, Tony had his hand wrapped around Peter’s neck, gently but firmly, with Peter’s back to his chest, pressed flush against his body, and his hand pumping Peter’s cock in large, lazy strokes, painstakingly slow—for now. “Mirror mirror on the wall,” Tony crooned, “who’s the prettiest of them all?”
Silence, punctuated with Peter’s little gasps. Tony shook him a bit with the hand around his neck to get his attention. “C’mon, baby. Daddy wants an answer. Who’s my pretty boy?”
Peter blinked his heavy eyelids, and tried to formulate a response. He was already so far gone, and they had barely started. What was the question again? The hand around his neck tightened slightly as Tony waited for him to answer.
"I— I am—" Peter finally gasped out, twitching when Tony twisted his wrist over the head of Peter's cock. Gently, Tony ran his fingertips along the side of Peter's neck, following his hammering pulse.
"Good," Tony murmured, kissing his jaw lightly as a reward, and gripped the base of his cock firmly. "And what are we doing here, hm? Why is Daddy making you stand in front of a mirror while he jerks you off, needy thing?"
Peter panted again, and Tony nipped where he'd kissed. "It's because I want you to see how pretty you are too, isn't it? Say yes."
Helplessly, Peter nodded, eyes squeezed shut tightly. He couldn’t really do anything against his Daddy’s wishes, even if he didn’t agree with Tony’s insistence of how pretty he was.
Tony seemed to notice his hesitance, even if Peter did say yes, and pulled his hand completely away from Peter’s cock. Peter’s hips jerked up, trying to follow, but Tony’s hand around his neck tightened in warning.
"Lying now?" Tony tilted his head, then turned it, meeting Peter's gaze in the mirror. He made a noise in the back of his throat when Peter tried to drop his eyes, his meaning clear—eyes up. He shifted, pulling back a bit, and then twined the hand that had been wrapped around Peter's cock in his hair, coaxing his head back. "Eyes on the mirror," he murmured, grinning like a shark when Peter struggled with the order. "Look at you. I said look, baby. What do you see? Because all I see is a filthy little liar. Am I wrong?"
Peter whined, unsure. If he said no, Tony would be upset that he didn’t think he was pretty. But if he said yes, Tony would be upset with him lying, again.
Tony waited a few more beats—taking mercy on him; Daddy was always so sweet—before he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Cock-stupid, too." He huffed a small laugh, clearly amused by the state Peter was in. "You always get like this, honey. Non-verbal." He tightened his fist in his hair, hard enough for Peter to feel the burn. "Needy." He yanked his head back again, eliciting a moan from Peter. "Perfect."
Peter shivered against him, and he let his head fall back down to a more comfortable position. "Tell me what you want," Tony murmured, letting his hand snake down again until his fingers were ghosting over his thigh. "Tell Daddy what his cock-stupid boy needs."
“Touch me,” Peter whispered.
"Yeah?" Tony made a noise at the back of his throat, letting his hand sneak a bit closer. "Do you deserve it?"
“I—” Embarrassingly, Peter felt tears start to burn the backs of his eyes.
“C’mon, baby,” Tony murmured. He loosened his grip, then turned Peter’s head to kiss him, hard. He drowned Peter’s gasp in his tears, and only pulled back when Peter’s chest was heaving for air. “You deserve it, don’t you?” he breathed. “Say yes for Daddy, darling.”
"Yes," he gasped, back arching when Tony finally wrapped his hands around his cock again. The strokes were still long and slow, but no longer lazy. No, Tony was stroking Peter's cock with a purpose now, and Peter, for the life of him, couldn't figure out what that purpose was. His breath began to catch, because even if Tony was jerking him off torturously slowly, he felt his orgasm begin to build, burning hot in his gut. The muscles in his lower back began to tense, and pleasure ran like sparks down his thighs.
Letting out a high, plaintive moan, Peter started to beg. He wasn't even sure what he was begging for, at this point, for Tony to let him come or for Tony to stop so he wouldn't. "Tony, please, I'm gonna—"
Tony growled, grip around his neck tightening the slightest bit, just enough for Peter to feel the change in pressure. Peter keened. “Please, what? Hm? You always seem to think you know what you want, baby, so come on, out with it. Please, what?”
Peter sobbed. "Please, Daddy, please Daddy, I'm gonna--"
Tony let go of Peter's cock. Tears finally started running down Peter's cheeks, blurring his vision. With the hand that was no longer bringing Peter pleasure, Tony thumbed the tears away.
“Shh, there you go,” Tony crooned. “So pretty, baby. Even when you cry. Especially when you cry.” He brushed his thumb against Peter’s bottom lip, and huffed a laugh again when Peter’s tongue poked out tentatively. “Tell Daddy what you want again.”
“I want—” Peter stopped when he saw the look Tony gave him in the mirror. “Please touch me, Daddy? I wanna come!” His lower lip was wobbling now.
"Yeah? Oh, you poor thing." Tony's lips twitched in amusement as he tilted his head, resting his chin on Peter's shoulder, making him squirm. "Baby boy," he drawled, letting his hand slip down again to wrap around his cock, and grinned when Peter arched into the touch. "All you had to do was ask."
His hand began to stroke Peter again, briskly, with a snap to his wrist, smirking at the little gasps he elicited in response. "Tell Daddy how good it feels. Tell Daddy how good it makes you feel."
“Oh…!” Peter gasped. “It feels so good Daddy, you make me feel so good…!”
Heat was pooling like embers in his pelvis. The pleasure that had dissipated when Tony took away his hand was roaring back now. Pre-come was leaking from his cock, making everything slick and wet and sloppy.
"Oh, I know," Tony purred. "I know. You tell me when you need to come, got it? You tell me, and you don't get to come a single drop without my fucking permission. You hear me? Say yes."
“Yes, Daddy...!” Peter was trying to keep his eyes on the mirror, on Tony’s strong, tan, slightly scarred hands wrapped around his pale neck and flushed cock, but his vision was blurring both with unshed tears and pleasure.
“I’m close,” he cried, whining when Tony didn’t take away his hand. “Please, please stop, oh my god, I’m gonna come, Daddy, please...!”
Despite the fact that Peter was begging for Tony to stop, his knees buckled when Tony didn’t let go. When he let out a miserable, low-pitched moan, Tony murmured into his ear, “Okay, baby, you can come,” dragging his lips along the shell of it.
Peter sagged, with Tony’s hand around his throat the only thing holding him up, the growing pressure constricting his breathing making his eyes roll back. Pleasure raced up his spine, turning his limbs to jelly, turning his gasps into throaty moans.
“Yeah, there you go.” Tony twisted and kissed Peter’s jaw, still stroking him relentlessly, coaxing him through his orgasm, and watched in the mirror as Peter released strings of white over his hand and on the floor, hips bucking involuntarily. “Look at you,” he breathed, watching as Peter shuddered through the afterglow of his orgasm. “So fucking pretty, baby. Fuck.”
He didn’t pull back when Peter started to whine, gasping from oversensitivity, and finally relented when Peter practically collapsed on him. Chuckling, he pulled his hand back. “Okay, baby. No more.” For now.
Peter whimpered.
Tony lifted his hand to Peter’s mouth. “You made Daddy so messy, baby,” he drawled. “What should we do about that, hm?”
“I can clean you up, Daddy?” Peter asked in a small, breathy voice, making eye contact through his eyelashes with Tony in the mirror. He was still leaning heavily on Tony, his pulse thudding against the fingers wrapped around his neck.
When he saw Tony’s eyes darken, he kept eye contact as he leaned forward, cleaning his own come off of Tony’s hand with little kitten licks, tracing the creases and calluses on his hand with his tongue. He watched as Tony shivered at the feeling, saw Tony lower his gaze to watch Peter’s mouth. When Tony’s hand was clean, Peter leaned back against Tony’s chest again.
“Ah-ah, that’s not everything, is it, baby?” Tony pointedly looked at the ground in front of them.
When Peter stared at him, eyes wide, Tony rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. “C’mon. Daddy didn’t ask you to make this mess; you did it yourself; hell, you asked for it. I’m waiting, baby boy.”
Peter bit his lip to keep in a whimper, and Tony took the hand that was around his throat and thumbed at Peter’s bottom lip, releasing it from his teeth. With his other hand, Tony gave Peter’s hip a little slap, and Peter slowly turned around and knelt in front of Tony. Looking up at Tony from on his knees, he saw Tony’s pupils dilate. Carefully, Peter broke eye contact, leaned forward, and licked the hardwood floor between Tony’s feet clean.
“Good boy,” Tony purred, watching him from above, smirking. He shamelessly pressed the palm of his hand to his dick, eyes dark with hunger. He waited until Peter straightened to add, “Very good.”
Peter’s eyes flickered over to the hand he had over the tent in his pants, and Tony chuckled, making him startle and look back up. “Thinking of round two already, sweetheart?” he murmured, pushing a hand through his hair. When Peter made a little mewling noise at the back of his throat, he grinned. “Go on, then. Time to show Daddy how grateful you are. And make it good.”
So I’m looking for this fic where Tony has to prove himself worthy of being in charge of Stark industries by 1.) become successful in another industry by himself and 2.) having a relationship last longer than a year. There might have been more on the list but I can’t remember. So anyway Tony lives in a cabin and to pursue writing and being an author. And he buys Peter to be in a relationship with him for a year. I read it on AO3 ages ago and it was incomplete at the time. Thanks!
Hi, Anon! I’ve got your fic. You’re welcome!
Freedom, Fairytales, and Other Fun Lies by OchibaKonpeki
Peter knew what the document on the desk in front of him said, in so many words. It could be boiled down to I, Peter Benjamin Parker, uncoerced and of sound mind, do hereby sign away my legal rights as a person. He would lose the right to vote, to choose where he lived, to receive government-funded scholarships and other forms of aid, to own property, to make decisions about non-elective medical procedures, to be employed... the list went on. He would be, effectively, property.