#starker community

[90minsofscreentime]

Superior Iron Man thinks you’re cool no matter what you celebrate 😌

[my-starker-sideblog]

Happy new year everyone!!

Long may you and our tiny lovely corner of the fandom thrive!

[3xamenace]

what's the policy in writing fics inspired by moodboards?

[90minsofscreentime]

🐇🐈

[siblingskissing]

I need more starker fics where Peter finds old photos of Tony because these are so slutty I-

[whumpsterswriteblr]

traumatized whumpee who likes to be on caretaker's lap for safety and warmth x traumatized caretaker who likes whumpee in their lap for comfort and to be sure they're safe and sound

[starkersblog]

I don’t know what this is but it’s cute !!! 🩵🧸

[lanyakea-universe]

Alright, dear starker community. Make a 5000k out of it, please 💜

HIgh school au request where badboy! tony decided to skip school for a day and brings his nerdy boyfriend! peter for a date

"But what if we get caught?!" Peter asked nervously as they sneaked out of the school together.

"Calm down, doll, you're with me. Nothing bad is gonna happen" Tony smirked, kissing the top of Peter's head.

Peter blushed softly, with his heart racing he followed Tony out of the school and into a nearby park.

They sat together under the shadow of a large tree.

"I've never done this before, you're taking me to the bad ways" Peter whispered in Tony's ear, giggling.

"Oh, baby boy, there's so many bad things I can do to you" he smirked, kissing along Peter's neck, sucking soft hickeys here and there.

Peter moaned softly, blushing furiously "We are in public Tony!" He whisper-yelled.

"So?" He asked continuing to kiss his neck "I know you love to put on a show... You just have that angel face... But your mind is a naughty one, Parker"

[readysetstarker]

all right, it's been a minute since i've been on this hellsite. who's who to follow in the starker community these days? i'm out of the loop

[babybatscreationsv2]

Say It

Marvel | Starker

Sometimes Peter needs a safe space to process his feelings about his body. Tony just enjoys watching him squirm.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings and tags below

This is a cnc misgendering role play in which trans guy Peter is consensually misgendered by Tony with prior consent and communication.

If you're uncomfortable with feminine or female language being applied to trans men for any reason, this is not a fic for you.

Otherwise, this is a safe space. All trans people are valid. Trans men are not women.

Warnings/tags: misgendering kink, trans!Peter, feminine words for male body parts, CNC, degradation, age kink, light misogyny, breeding kink

"I love these tits," Tony purred. His hands squeezed the tissue of Peter's chest. His thumbs teased his nipples.

Peter whimpered in answer. Then he found his voice beneath the anxiety. "They're not tits..."

"Oh yeah?" Tony smirked. He wrapped his lips around one nipple and sucked. He dragged his teeth over it, nipping and sucking while Peter squirmed in pain and pleasure. When he drew his head back, he let his lips pop against it.

"Feels like tits to me. We could get you some nice implants. I think you'd look good with DDs. Then you can tell me how they're not tits."

Peter shuddered. "They're not..."

"And what's this down here?" Tony's hand slipped between his legs.

"My dick," Peter said. He tried to sound firm, but he was shaking too much.

Tony laughed. "Must be tiny. Feels like a pussy to me."

Peter moaned. He squeezed his thighs together and turned his head away. Tony just took advantage of his bared neck, sucking on his tender skin.

"Tony," Peter whined.

"Yes, princess?"

"Stop it," Peter pouted.

"What are you complaining about?" Tony rubbed his crotch through his underwear. "Your panties are getting all wet. You love it when I suck on your tits don't you?"

Peter whined and Tony smirked. He tucked his leg in between Peter's and forced them apart so he could give him a small smack there. He gasped, looking at Tony with wide eyes.

"That's a good girl."

"I'm not a girl."

"Don't be silly, baby. How could anyone with such a pretty pussy not be a girl?" He slipped his fingers into Peter's underwear, coating them in his wetness. He brought them up between their faces.

"Look at that. Boys don't make messes like that. That's pussy juice." He pushed his fingers into Peter's mouth without resistance. Peter sucked them clean while Tony watched, grinning down at him. "Good girl."

Peter couldn't speak around the fingers in his mouth. It was only more humiliating that he couldn't even argue. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked harder.

"That's my girl. Good little cock sucker, just like I taught you. All your wet little holes need cock in them don't they?" Tony smirked. "You're rubbing your pussy against my thigh, you know. I can feel how soaked you are."

Tony palmed his chest again. "You can dress however you want, but you know you're just a little girl aren't you? You want your pussy stretched out on my cock, don't you?"

Peter moaned. Tony pulled his fingers from his mouth and grabbed hold of his hair. "Say it."

"Fuck you," Peter spat, but the venom wasn't there.

"Tell me you want me to fuck your pussy or I'll jack off on your tits and leave you wet."

Peter whined. "It's not-"

Tony slapped him. "Don't lie to me, baby girl." He reached down between Peter's legs where he was wet and pushed his panties aside before pushing a finger into him. "This is a fucking pussy. Because you're a girl. I know little girls get confused, that's why you need an older man to explain it to you, huh?"

Peter nodded his head, biting down on his lip.

"So tell me what you want then."

"Please..." he squeezed his eyes shut. "Please fuck my pussy."

"I'm sorry?"

"Please fuck my pussy!" he said quickly.

"Good girl." Tony rubbed his clit, his finger stroking inside him. "I'm gonna fill up this little pussy aren't I? Just like it's made for."

He took his cock in his hand and slapped it between Peter's legs. "See, sweetheart. That's what a cock looks like. Touch it."

Peter took Tony's cock in his hand, stroking it lightly. "It's so much bigger than your little clit isn't it?"

"It's a cock," Peter argued.

"Sure, baby," Tony said with condescension. "I know anatomy is really hard."

"Fuck you," Peter said again.

"Do you want this cock in you?"

"Yes, please."

"Play with your tits then."

"No, fuck you. I don't have tits!"

Tony stroked his cock in his fist. He hovered just over him, the warmth of his body against Peter's. "Go on, sweetheart. I love watching a girl play with her titties. Convince me to fuck you."

Peter whined and turned his head away. Hesitantly, he brought his hands up to his chest. He gasped at his own touch against his nipples.

"See it feels good doesn't it, baby? You gotta touch those tits more. They're so pretty. You look so pretty touching yourself for me."

"They're not-" Peter's words were caught in a primal moan. Tony slowly pushed his cock inside. In the hole they both ignored more often than not, then came moments like this, when Peter wanted to be misgendered, and it was like the first time all over again but better. He was so tight and so tense. Tony didn't say a word as the boy ran his thumbs over his nipples in an effort to pleasure himself into relaxing, to let him in.

Peter reached for Tony as his cock filled him up. He pulled him down and Tony kissed him while Peter squeezed around him. Should have grabbed himself a cock ring.

"You okay?" Tony asked as he settled.

Peter nodded. "Please keep going."

Tony grinned. "Good girl."

Peter moaned. "Fuck me, please."

"I told you, you were just confused. You just needed a nice big cock in your little pussy." He moved his hips, grateful for just how soaked Peter was because he hardly had it in him to go slow. It felt so good. He held his hips, fucking him deep, bumping against his cervix to little whimpers of pain and pleasure.

"Please please," Peter begged mindlessly. His legs wrapped around him. His hands held on to back of his neck.

"That's my good girl, gonna fucking breed you."

Peter moaned, pulling him like he could get him deeper. Tony gave him what he needed, fucking him with quick deep thrusts, feeling his hole squeeze the whole length of his cock. He leaned into, letting his weight press Peter into the bed.

"Gonna bruise your fucking insides so you know what this fucking hole is for. What this pussy is for."

"It's a pussy," Peter agreed. "A pussy for your cock. Breed me please. Knock me up."

"Yeah," Tony moaned. He groped Peter's chest, kneading and squeezing him. "Gonna knock my girl up. Watch your tits swell."

"Oh my god, Tony, please. I need to cum."

"I know I can fucking feel it," Tony panted. He was right there, practically bursting. "Your pussy's milking my dick, practically begging for it."

Peter whimpered.

"Go ahead, baby. Show me how a girl cums."

Peter gasped. His nails dug into Tony's back. His eyes squeezed shut and mouth fell open, silent at first then moaning as his body shivered. His legs trembled against Tony's waist.

Tony came, pushing himself up against his cervix, pouring his cum straight into his womb and fucking him still as if it could fill him up again. He stopped only when his body forced him to. He looked at Peter, beautiful and red faced and panting. His hole was swollen and sore and gorgeous with his lacy boyshorts stretched to one side.

"We'll just fix these." Tony adjusted his underwear back into place. "Your pretty panties can help keep all my cum in your pussy. Make sure it takes."

Peter moaned. He was still shaking. His grip was weak as he tried to bring Tony to him for a kiss. Tony leaned in for him and gave him a soft kiss.

"You okay, Pete?"

He nodded his head. "Feels so good." His hand slipped down between his legs, rubbing the front of his soaked underwear.

Tony chuckled softly. "You'll have to give me a minute."

Peter smiled. "I'm too sore for..."

"That's okay."

"And I don't think I want... that again for a bit."

"That's okay, too." Tony ran his hand down Peter's thigh. He looked at where he was soaked, their cum mixed together making the most enticing mess.

"You want to eat me out so bad don't you?" Peter grinned.

"Fuck yeah. Can I please?"

Peter laughed. "Well, now I know how to get you begging."

Tony pulled him into his arms and gave him a sweet kiss. “Let’s have a break first, my handsome boy.”

Peter laughed again. “I’m okay, I promise. I trust you. And you’re gonna suck my dick to make it up to me.”

[starkerfestivals]

StarkerFestival's Extended AUpril!!

Hello everyone! Thank you to all the participants that joined us for our Valentine's Day exchange! We still have a few posts we're waiting on to close the event and once we have everything collected, we'll have a master post for the gifts.

Meanwhile– Us mods are extremely excited to announce our newest event! We are calling it Extended AUpril, and I believe we may have done something similar in the past.

For AUpril, we have made 2 community 4x4 bingos. The bingos will last all three months, and are light and dark themed. (Note: The prompts are themed this way. You do not have to do angst for dark prompts and fluff for light prompts. Feel free to be as creative as you want!)

Duration: This event will start today and last until the end of May.

Reminder: There is no obligation for these community bingos. Do them all, do exactly one prompt--it's completely up to you! Just make sure to tag properly.

Other Events:

March - There will be a list of 7 prompts dedicated to Omegaverse week (info post will be tomorrow). While it is a 'week,' this event will last the entire month of March.

Edit: This event is now live Here!

May - Mer-May week to be posted in May! Again, although it is a week's worth of themed prompts, it will last the entire month of May.

Below the cut are the written versions of the prompts.

Extra rules:

In order to get it reblogged, please @ us here, and feel free to use these hashtags! #StarkerFestivalsEvents , #SFAUpril24.

Crossovers are allowed and welcome for all prompts! Some of the prompts themselves are cross over prompts, please feel free to do so!

Edit: 1 prompt per content created. Multichapter fics can claim 1 prompt/chapter. Ex: One shot and moodboard = may claim up to 2 prompts)

You only have to complete one card to get a 'bingo.' We only separated the light and dark prompts for people who prefer to avoid angst! A bingo is four in a row for this event, meaning horizontal, vertical, or diagonal.

Tag every trigger appropriately, as always.

Have fun with it! This is to encourage AUs, not any specific prompts. Feel free to take it in any direction you want to.

Happy AUpril everyone!

Light Bingo AUs:

Royal

No Powers/Modern

Coffee shop

Education (Teacher, High School, College, etc.)

Celebrity (Actor, Singer, Streamer, etc.)

Artist/Author

Fix-it

Librarian

Star Wars

Magic (HP, Realism, Fantasy etc.)

Aged Up/Down

Angel/Demon

Lesbian Starker

Decorator

Soulmates

Cottage/Countryside

Dark Bingo AUs:

War/Military

YA Distopia (Hunger Games, Divergent, etc.)

Criminal

Superior Iron Man  

Supernatural (Ghost, Vamp, Alien, Were, etc.)

Firefighter

Game of Thrones

Detective 

Apocalypse

Break Up/Make Up

Blood

Lovers to Enemies

Stockholm Syndrome/Kidnapping

Historical

Hospital (Staff, Setting, Sick, Diagnosis, CI, etc.)

Mafia

[paperstorm]

I love the way tk always has to know how long carlos has loved him. I love that everytime carlos tells him something new about the beginning of their relationship he has to know when it was and just be floored by how early on carlos thought he deserved love. THEY’RE GETTING MARRIED NEXT WEEK!!!!

I just love how much Carlos has stepped up this season in terms of being so vulnerable when TK needs assurance. (Not that he didn’t do that before, he did, but it’s been starker this year). He still has the tendency to try to diffuse with a joke because that’s who he is but when TK communicates “no I’m really upset about this and I need you to meet me here”, Carlos hits him with the cow eyes and “I stopped thinking I was broken when I found you” and “I brought you a lizard baby” and “I would tell you our love story every single day” and “we’re soulmates baby and I’ve thought that since the week we met”. Being open and vulnerable which is hard for him but giving that to TK so bravely

[spiderlinging]

I think people in the Starker community need to post more fic rec lists. It's for the greater good.

[siblingskissing]

I wanna write a thing so

also if you have any prompt ideas let me know

[preromantics]

(had to google common kinks because my brain is dead lol sorry)

But

Starker + voyeurism?

Or

Starker + anonymous sex

Oooh let’s try anonymous (errr kinda I took it to a glory hole place)!

-

It started as a joke. It was definitely a joke.

Someone — Peter can’t even remember, because Thor and Bruce had reverse engineered some long lost Asgardian hard liquor and gotten every person in the compound, enhanced metabolism to Actual God to regular human totally shitfaced — someone had complained about the lack of sexual partner options available to bonafide superheroes.

Peter is 97% sure he did not make the original complaint, but less sure if he privately or verbally agreed with the overall sentiment.

Anyway, someone had complained.

Tony, who fell on the human spectrum of easily-shitfaced-from-Asgardian-jet-fuel but also on the unfortunately superhuman liver side, had indulged his one social drink and promptly disappeared to the lab.

A few hours later, the assorted and still standing heroes of Earth had been led on a little drunken excursion by Tony to the compound sublevels. The group arranged a wobbly and cheerful single-file line ordered by height and wove through the gym and past the boxing rings to the locker room style communal showers.

Peter, who did not have the advantage of height compared to the collection of his coworkers (friends?) who were still standing, had been one of the last to see what all the parading had been about.

The last shower stall had been partitioned into two, with shiny new floor to ceiling doors.

The new middle partition — proudly gestured to by Tony in his best Vanna White impression — sported a single hole in the wall.

“This dial here can adjust the size to your… needs,” Tony was saying, giving a practical demonstration of the lever that opened and closed the hole like the aperture function of a camera lens.

Peter would’ve taken notes, but the rush of the alcohol and the implications and the Tony of it all caught up and deafened him with white noise.

—

So, it was a joke. 30 or so assorted superheroes, Avengers and otherwise, knew that a gloryhole existed in the communal showers on level B8 of the compound.

Theoretically, any of them could use it.

Peter wondered obsessively if anyone had tried it, joke or not.

He found himself lingering after a hard workout or training session, eyes closed under the spray of one of the normal shower stalls, and senses on high alert for the echoey pad of footsteps to the end of the room.

Eventually his curiosity graduated and he found himself walking down to the partitioned and private stalls, too. Ostensively just to look. Just to see if one door was closed and not the other. Just to see if anyone might be paying attention and follow him down.

Not that Peter would use the hole with anyone. Probably.

He wasn’t even sure what side he’d pick, or what he’d do — again, not that he was thinking about it.

He absolutely, definitely did not let his exploration take him into the farthest side, the door shutting with a final-sounding soft close clink, the lighting going dim in the stall.

A small green light, unobtrusive but obvious once you knew where to look, had startled him. Occupied.

(He definitely did not enter the little stall five more days in a row until on the fifth he gathered the courage to drop to his knees to asses the height of the hole relative to his mouth and fiddle with the adjustment knob.

Tony was, if nothing else, always the perfect engineer.)

-

Peter was hyper-aware when he was sharing a workout with anyone else. Waited to see if they’d follow him into the locker room.

Sometimes they did and he showered knowing someone else was a stall away. But no footsteps ever wandered to the end of the line of shower stalls.

He wasn’t disappointed, exactly. It was just. Whoever had complained that superheroes couldn’t get laid easily was speaking the truth.

Occasionally he would be working with Tony in the labs, on the rare occasion they were at the compound at the same time, and find himself wondering if Tony remembered the superhero glory hole he’d created several floors below him.

He’d wonder if Tony ever tried it.

He’d wonder if Tony ever thought about Peter trying it. If he’d seen Peter stumble away from the drunken group field trip presentation with blotchy red on his cheeks.

He’d wonder if Tony knew the height was perfect for the distance from Peter’s knees to his mouth.

He’d wonder if he was going a little crazy about the whole Glory Hole Joke.

-

“If I sit in this chair for another minute my back is going to spontaneously throw itself out,” Tony announces from his lab bench.

Peter smirks at him, sparing a glance up from his pipette and beaker. A quip is on his tongue, the perfect time for an old man joke, but the words die in his throat.

Tony is stretching slowly from a sit to a stand, arms over his head, faded t-shirt scrunching up under his armpits to reveal a few inches of soft belly skin dusted with hair.

“Gonna go get a workout in before lunch. Dinner? Midnight snack? Honesty no idea where we’re falling in the meal spectrum right now.”

Peter swallows around his dry throat. “Dinner,” he says, though he also has no clue what time it is. “Probably.”

Tony jerks his thumb toward the elevator across the room. “Maybe I’ll see you down there,” he says.

It sounds so casual. Maybe he will. Peter wants to die a little with how much he wants to see Tony on Floor B8. A little further past the gym than Tony has in mind.

“Maybe,” Peter agrees, turning back to his pipette, which he’s pretty sure has been steadily dropping too much of the base into his reactive acid this entire time.

-

Peter spends 10 minutes cleaning up his lab bench and another 5 staring blankly at the elevator doors.

The cheerful and non-descript elevator AI asks him what floor he wants three separate times. Peter is glad it isn’t FRI or KAREN. They’d have called him out by now.

“B8,” he says.

He walks out of the elevator with purpose, resolved to head to the rowing machine and get a pre-dinner workout in with Mr. Stark, shake off his nervous and pent-up energy until it’s sweat out of his system.

There’s a small snag in his plan. Tony is running on the omni-directional treadmill, back to Peter. He has Starkphones in, completely sound proof.

Peter licks his lips at the sight of the sweat on Tony’s back, the way it causes his shirt to cling to his spine.

He makes a split second decision, borne maybe of too many late night fantasy scenarios to count. It’s easy to walk past the treadmill and cross to the other end of the facility, past the boxing rings.

It’s easy to walk down the line of shower stalls, the overhead lights pinging on instantly as he walks further and further, steps getting quicker.

It’s — it’s not perfectly easy, he has to stop and take a breath before he walks into the farthest partitioned side of the glory hole. But then it is done: the door softly closes, the little green LED flicking on, and all Peter has to do is sink down to his knees.

All Peter did was walk across a room but his heart is beating wildly like he just went stealth mode on a dangerous stake out.

The reality is Tony didn’t notice Peter even enter the gym. He might finish his workout and go up to his own expansive compound rooms to shower. He might shower here, the echo of water driving Peter insane with mental images, and never even glance down to see the subtle green light.

He might see the green light, know that Peter is there, and leave anyway.

Peter bangs his head softly against the wall, nose catching the human-sized opening awkwardly, and resigns himself to letting his legs go numb from the knees down while he waits with all his hope in his throat, anyway.

-

A soft noise, the woosh of the main locker room door, makes every hair on Peter’s arms stand up.

He swallows, pitching forward in his enclosed stall as if that will bring him closer to the source of the noise.

It could be someone else, though Peter has no idea who could be on the weekend roster.

There’s a rustle of clothing he barely needs to strain to hear. The soft thump of something hitting the ground. The hiss of the pipes, not on a human frequency, before the spray of the water gushes out of a distant shower head.

The shower is over quickly, Peter notes, though time has gone soft and slippy. He closes his eyes.

Footsteps. Toward him. The slight air sound of a door opening. The well-known click of the private stall door shutting.

Oh, god. There is someone across from him. Peter forgets to breathe for a second entirely and has to fight from making a sound as he chokes between two inhales.

He can no longer distinguish the small noises from the rushing in his own ears.

The first movement in the hole nearly startles him; just a play of shadows as someone gets ready on the other side.

Then: a cock. It slides through, half-hard, resting thick and plump along the bottom edge of the hole as it passes through. The owner of the cock feeds it all the way, the fat head bending downward and then bobbing up. Toward Peter.

Peter inhales; the scent is clean and his lungs struggle to fill all the way. He rocks forward, drawn to the half-comical, half-arousing reality of the anonymous cock through the hole.

Is it really anonymous? Statistically, Peter thinks it should be Tony. He was in the gym. Would he know it was Peter on the other side? Tony invited Peter down to workout, so the odds were decent the other way around.

Tentatively, Peter darts his tongue out to lick across the head of the cock. It’s flushed darker than the root, and the salty sweet of it blooms on Peter’s tongue.

He may have just licked Tony Stark’s fat cock head for the first time. The idea of it thrills Peter to his bones, his own cock throbbing against the zip of his jeans.

There’s a chance it isn’t Tony.

Peter licks a bolder stripe across the head, swirling around the ridge. His saliva glands are over active, he’s practically drooling already at the idea of this.

There’s a chance it’s someone else. Peter may never even find out.

His cock twitches at that, too. Fuck. He wraps his lips around the entire head, drenching it with his own slick excitement as he opens his mouth up further and slides down several inches in his eagerness.

He gags, pulls back, and returns immediately.

The man on the other side of the wall is silent, but a slight bang against the wall — the slap of someone’s hand to the partition, as if Peter’s already doing such a good job they can’t help it — makes Peter shove more of the warm cock between his lips to muffle any of his own noises.

If he moaned, he’s sure someone could pick out the octave of his voice and just know. They’d know Peter is twenty seconds into this and already drooling for it.

Tony would know for sure. The thought makes Peter palm his own cock, wishing he’d thought to unzip his jeans while he waited, but not wanting to stop to focus enough to do so now.

He would’ve felt so pathetic, waiting alone, pants undone and cock half-hard with anticipation. Now, he’s stuck curling his fingers against the denim of his fly and worrying he might leak precome through his briefs and jeans by the end of this.

He tongues along the bottom vein of the cock in front of him, marveling at the weight of it and at the stretch of his lips around it as they drag slickly up and down. The angle is decent, but still strange, his neck stiff as he tries to bob back and forth to take the entire thing.

The cock in his mouth is definitely fully hard now, pulsing and flexing against Peter’s tongue, the tip bursting an addictive drop of precome every few passes. The taste is such a contrast to the soap-clean skin of the length that every taste forces Peter to swallow back a moan.

His nose mashes slightly against the wall when he focuses enough to take as much as he can down his throat. It feels deliriously good, a sense of terribly slutty pride coursing through him every time his nose hits the partition over the hole.

He’s slid all the way down when the owner of the cock abruptly slides back out.

Peter’s mouth opens around an unvoiced protest, barely catching a whine from spilling out before the cock slides back in, fucking back between Peter’s parted swollen lips and down his open throat.

He does moan at that, deep and hopefully muffled by his mouth full of cock.

Peter catches on quickly: he can keep his mouth open, his forehead and nose pressed hard against the wall, and the stranger on the other end can simply fuck his mouth.

It’s so simple to stay still, dragging his tongue back and forth and dragging his hand over his own trapped cock while he gets efficiently face fucked. It’s almost dream-like, two pinpoints of focus — the stranger’s pleasure and Peter’s pleasure — taking up all the space in his brain.

A hand slaps the wall on the other side again, harder this time, the cock in Peter’s mouth tensing and pulsing before his throat is coated with come.

Peter comes in his own pants, hips frantically bucking as he swallows down several continuous seconds of anonymous come. He bangs his head on the wall, hard, trying to balance and keep his position at the same time.

When the cock slides out from between hips lips, dragging and lingering on Peter’s bottom lip for a moment before disappearing, Peter falls back against the tile and inhales sharply.

He waits for the click of the door on the other side of the wall and for the padding of the feet to disappear. He doesn’t even have the mental energy to try and figure out if he recognizes the sound and weight of the softly echoing feet.

He forgets about dinner, peeling himself off the floor eventually and floating all the way to his room.

-

In the morning, Peter is slow to rise, feeling heavy-limbed and not awake enough to revisit the previous night.

When he finally manages to roll out of bed and head to the communal kitchens, the line of Tony’s back at the breakfast bar greets him first.

Peter flashes to the sweat-soaked gym shirt from the night before and swallows around a suddenly dry mouth once again.

“Hey shortstack,” Rhodes calls from the other side of the counter.

Peter gives him a tired salute, covering for his slight startle, and heads for the fridge behind Tony.

“You two see any ghosts while you were rattling around this place all by your lonesomes last night?” Rhody asks.

Peter just catches himself from overpouring his orange juice onto the counter as the dots connect in his head. He never did look at the weekend security roster.

Surely Rhody can’t mean he and Tony were the only—

“Ghosts? No, just me and Pete, who ghosted me for dinner.”

Tony turns and grabs the freshly poured orange juice glass from Peter’s hands, catching his finger tips as he pulls it free and sparking heat up Peter’s fingers in return.

“For me? You didn’t have to,” Tony says, catching Peter’s startled glance with a too-wide smile.

He takes a wide gulp, only breaking eye contact to turn around and set the glass down.

Tony slaps the counter with a small, satisfied groan. “Delicious,” he says brightly.

Rhody rolls his eyes and turns back to his phone and eggs.

Peter stands still. The slap echos over and over again in Peter’s head as he flushes. Oh.

——-

WELL I said I was going to answer these on my phone and I did. Oops. Will edit and whatever on my computer tomorrow hahaha.

[starkersblog]

Little Peter and his daddy on a cute walk🥰🧸