#starker first time

[spiderlinging]

I should probably be writing instead, but I couldn't help but try making Starker nails now that I have the material

[kenztheweirdmf]

[papermacherainbow]

tell me 'bout the first time

Tony was known for fixating on things. New hobbies, problems, people. His mind would narrow in on one thing and only that thing until it had run its course. His latest obsession was Peter’s lips, and he doesn’t think he’ll get tired of it ever. When new boyfriends, Tony and Peter, decide to take things to the next level, Peter has to reveal a small secret. Tony takes it in stride and discovers a few things about himself along the way. A prequel to touch me while your bros play grand theft auto

You can read tell me 'bout the first time [here]

For: @papermacherainbow Kinktober | First Time @pparkerbingo SFW G1 | No Powers

[sandrasoapbox]

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...

...

has anyone listen to the angry version of Taylor Swift's "illicit affairs" (from her Eras Tour live shows) and get some Starker vibes?

Especially this bridge:

And you wanna scream Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby" Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby" Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

Even if it's not the angry Eras Tour version, still same vibes.

[burial-at--sea]

I'm neew here! What does TN-PT mean? I know it's Starker something but that's it.

hi, I'm also basically new here

TNPT is an abbreviation of TonyPeter, which is just another variation of their ship name

i had to put the dash in my username because the "tnpt" username had been taken

[garaks-padded-bra]

I only close this skylight that is directly over my bed so that I don't float out of it and into the maw of a ufo, sort of like what happened to Linda Napolitano except for the fact that she is a liar and I'm not. Also, another difference is the aliens liked me for my vibe and didn't do experiments on me - I just don't want to go up there again cuz the first time it happened I freeballed my way into the sky and mooned the city of Paris cuz they didn't warn me and I was starkers and also my ex gleebo is up there and like we ended it on good terms but she keeps asking to probe me "casually" and "as a friend" but we all know how those kind of relationships end up loll

[totallynotashieldagent]

Kinktober - Hate Fucking

Pairing: Hal Jordan/Reader

The slap that cracked across his face shocked his system.

“You almost got us killed with your showboating!” You screamed. “I’m reporting you to Batman- I’ve HAD it with your absolute bullshit!” 

“You did not just fucking slap me, princess-” Hal growled, twisting your wrist back. “I saved your sorry ass.”

“I had it under control!” You snapped at him.

“Like hell you did!” He pushed back, crowding your space until he was pressed against you.

“Fuck you, Jordan.” You glared venomously, taking steps back until you tumbled backwards into a random empty room.

“You know what, pretty? Why don’t you fuck me yourself?” He spun you around, your face against the wall. Punching the door button to lock you both in, engulfing you in darkness.

“The fuck are you doing, Jordan?!” You hissed, trying to push him away but it just ended up you grinding against his bulge.

“You heard me, princess.” He growled against your ear. “Fuck. Me. Yourself.” His ring glowed and you found yourself pinned against the wall with his constructs. 

“Let go!” You gasped, hating how his stupid ring made everything so powerless. 

“Ah- ah- ah-” He laughed, his uniform disappearing, leaving him starkers. “Behave or that mouth will go to good use-” 

“You put your dick near my mouth and I’ll bite it off.” You warned, masking how your underwear was already soaked through. The bound wrists were to your liking. You did that usually with partners. But he didn’t need to know that shit. 

You could feel his constructs undoing your uniform slowly. Your thighs were squished together to keep some form of dignity intact. You were not going to let this asshole know that you- 

“Fuck you!!” You snapped again. 

“I’m getting to it, darling.” Hal chuckled, his palms groping and kneading at your ass. “You, since the day you joined the League, I’ve wanted to fuck that attitude out of you-” 

“Ever since I joined the League, I’ve wanted to cut your throat-” You struggle against the construct.

“Stop fighting it, sweetheart. They don’t call me the greatest for nothing. My constructs aren’t-” He boasted and you grinded against him, his concentration breaking for a moment, the constructs faltering. You used it to your advantage, breaking free and elbowing his nose as hard as you could. 

He dodged the strike, grabbing your arm with a snarl. “Playing dirty, are we?” He twisted your arm behind you and instead of a pained gasp, you moaned. “Well, well, well- I knew you liked it rough.” He laughed against your ear. “You’re such a brat because no one’s ever fucked you right, hm?” 

You jerked your head back to headbutt him but he dodged it too. It wasn’t riling him up anymore. It was just turning him on. And not that you’d ever admit it, you were enjoying it too. For the first time, you were fighting and the other person was able to keep up. 

“I’ll give it to you like you need it, princess.” Hal licked your neck. “I’ll give it just how you need it.” The empty room glowed in green hues as a table breathed into life and he pushed you over onto it. “Last chance, honey-” His hand was skillfully undoing the zippers and buttons, hovering now on your underwear’s waistband. You knew you could stay stop and it would stop. Hal wasn’t the guy who would push after he was denied but-

“What? You a coward too now?” You goaded him. 

“You’re such a fucking bitch-” The smack that came down made your body shiver and your thighs clench. His hand was large and calloused and he hit hard enough that you felt the recoil across your body. You felt the breath get knocked out of you and shudder when he kneaded the tender flesh. “Now, will you behave, pretty thing?” 

“Fuck. You.” You bit out. In hindsight, not the smartest thing to say. Because the second spank that came down was harder. You yelped, trying to push away but his other hand held your wrists tightly at the small of your back. 

“As you wish-” Hal laughed, a pair of green scissors cutting away at your underwear. “Oh- So wet? All for me? I’m flattered-” His fingers teased at your folds roughly. 

“H-Hal-” You choked out but his middle finger was already knuckle deep.

“What was that, princess?” He leaned over your body. His hard cock against your ass. “You have to use your words.” He mocked. 

You clenched your jaw. No way in hell were you going to tell him that his finger felt good. That he was curling it the right way. You breathed through your nose, your forehead against the table, concentrating to not- to not- to not- 

“Oh god-” Oops- It slipped out. You were on your toes, legs were shaking, his thumb was brushing ever so slightly at your clit and you hated that you wanted more. 

“No, no, no, no-” Hal laughed, removing his finger and sucking it off. “You’re gonna hold it until I say you can cum. Got it?” 

“I’ll cum when I feel like it!!” You argued, trying to pull away from his tight grip. 

“Keep squirming.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your dripping cunt. Slowly, teasingly, almost mocking you. The head just almost at the entrance but not quiet. “It makes me want to fuck you harder.” 

“Big words for a man who won’t ev- AH!!” The words get lost in your throat in a cry of pain and pleasure as he plunges in fully. A string of curses left him and you. He stretches you to the brim, no longer holding your wrists, just the flesh of your ass. So tight, you know it’ll bruise later but god he felt so good. 

“Jesus, princess-” He groaned, “If I knew your pussy was this heavenly, I would’ve pushed your buttons sooner.” He started to move. But soon enough, his slow, measured thrusts turned harder, rougher and more erratic. His blunt nails dug into your ass as he moved faster, and all you could do was hold onto the table with desperate needy moans, trying to catch your breath. 

“Hal- I’m-” You tried, your legs were shaking so much. You were sure your toes would be blue with how long you’d been on them. 

“Not fucking yet-” He growled, another harsh smack! connecting to your ass followed with a massage. It just made you wetter. 

“Go to hell.” You moaned, holding the table so hard your knuckles were losing blood flow.

“Yeah? I’ll meet you there-” He laughed, rutting into you with a merciless pace, holding tightly to you. The recoil against your hips was harsh and you gasped every time his cock hit your g-spot so perfectly.

You were biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. Trying to control your noises as much as possible. The man did not need a bigger ego. He did not need to know that he could really back up all his bravado and ego with-

“Fuck- You’re squeezing me up, sweetheart. Gonna cum for me already?” He pistoned harder and you finally couldn’t help it. The sound that escaped you could’ve put a pornstar to shame. Hal groaned, his grip tightening, more curses falling from his lips. 

You knew you were close. You were trying so desperately to hold off. To not give him that satisfaction. To make him live with the fact that he didn’t make you cum but it was getting harder and harder to do. Especially when a construct glowing green hand snaked around and started to rub at your clit. You cried out in pleasure again, the coil in your stomach so taut, you knew it was going to snap soon. 

“Come on, pretty thing- I wanna hear what you sound like when you let go-” He groaned, his pace starting to falter just a bit. He wanted to cum, so badly, but heavens above he’d rather throw himself into the sun than finish first. 

“Fuck you, Jordan!!” You screamed and came hard. Squeezing everything he was worth, your thighs shaking, your back arching as the pleasure cut through you like never before. You hated it, you hated how fucking good he felt and how amazing he made you feel. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” He whimpered as his pace became erratic, shooting thick ropes, filling you so much that your needy, swollen cunt dripped to the floor.

He slumped on top of you, both of you breathless and boneless. 

“So, still wanna report me, sweetheart?” He asked after a few beats of silence. 

“Yes.” You mumbled, your pussy still throbbing around his cock.

Kinktober 2024.

[cutestarkersworld]

Peter wants a cat but Tony told him no, they were too busy with super heroing to take care of another living being. Peter was upset but understood, maybe in a couple years they could adopt a senior cat from the shelter. Still, for a little while he walked around with a sag in his shoulders and a frown on his face.

Everytime he'd pass by a stray it was the same thing, him turning to Tony with a hopeful smile and the man only shaking his head and telling Peter that the most they could do is take them to a shelter and donating so they knew the kitten would be taken care for.

Peter would give the man big puppy eyes to try and beg him but it never worked, Tony knew they couldn't handle a cat right now but that didn't mean that Peter's looks were any less effective. Tony had to fight back the urge more often than not, it was too soon.

Maybe a part of Tony was scared to take care of something with Peter, taking care of a being with someone was a commitment. What if everything went to hell? What if something happened and now they had to decided where the cat goes, with him or Peter--not that he ever had a plan on breaking up with the boy. It was just, owning a living being together was a commitment and Tony always had issues with that.

But then he sees the way Peter cooes each time they pass by a pet and the way his eyes soften and well, maybe it wouldn't be too bad right? So when they pass by an old, sad looking cat that sat near an alleyway on their morning walk and Peter looked at him with those eyes, Tony finally said yes. Peter would be so surprised and thrilled. He immediately tell Tony to wait there and watch the cat as he runs to the nearest pet store to buy cat food, water, a crate, and Churu treats so they could bribe the kitty.

Tony would obviously stay put and tries his best to earn the cats trust but it doesn't work, if anything he probably scares the poor thing more by accident. Peter would show up with an armful of bags, ready to set up their house when they get there. They would spend the entire evening sitting on the dirty pavement feeding the cat and gaining it's trust before luring it into the crate with food.

Tony who grows to love the cat more than almost anything in the planet, aside from Peter obviously. He is the definition of the person who doesn't want the pet at first but falls in love with them in a couple of weeks, who buys them everything he thinks the kitty would like.

just starker adopting a stray, senior cat and loving it as if it was their actual child.

[sky-is-the-limit]

'I make guarantees.'

Phillip Graves x F!Reader

Summary: As a member of the TF141, it comes naturally to be aggravated by Phillip Graves. Pair that with every fiber of your body, mind and soul desiring him, and you have a ticking bomb ready to explode. Basically, porn without plot.

CW: Angry sex, jealousy, possessiveness, degradation, violent/explicit language, mention of blood (minor), unprotected sex.

WC: 4,712 words (oops)

Notes: I'm not a writer!

Phillip Graves was no ordinary man. He was the sort to blaze through your soul like a wildfire, allow you to feel the kind of passion and intensity you only find between the lines of a fantasy tale and then leave ashes behind, forever engraved in your skin.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned to look at Phillip. You only spared him a passing glance though, smirking just before turning back to laugh at a joke Johnny told, too crest for the other man's tastes.

This was the second mission where you had to collaborate with the Shadow Company for a more effective outcome, meaning you had to be in his overwhelming presence once more. Someone outside watching in would think that you hated each other, whenever you'd interact. You always tested his limits, toed every line that you could cross with every action, with every takedown.

Perhaps you did, deep inside. Hated him for igniting feelings in you so intense that would only resonate to you either banging your head against a wall or let him fuck you against one.

Phillip showed his interest straight away, from the very first interaction the two of you had during your first mission, his arrogance and cockiness oozing out of him as though he had no ordinary blood running through his veins. Pair that with the way he was talking to Johnny, the closest squad member to you, you had to turn down his advances, which unsurprisingly, hurt his fragile ego and ever since, all remarks exchanged between the two of you were like bullets destined to kill.

Once more, you found yourself in the common area of your temporary base, left alone to face him. Your leisure time of listening to Soap's silly dad jokes and good conversation over coffee was cut short when Phillip walked in.

Johnny did not have the patience to ignore him and his snarky comments that he had to physically get away from him, and you did not blame him one bit. Was it your pride or something else forbidding you from exiting right after?

''It's pathetic really.'' His posture was starker than usual, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips tight as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Though you had your back turned on him, you could feel his gaze devouring you whole.

The abruptness startled you, but keeping your composure, you set your coffee down on the table and turned to look at him.

''Your entire existence? I know.'' The words came out in a furious rush and you felt a bead of sweat drip down your back under your black shirt. It was a nasty habit, at that point. You couldn't even finish one argument without starting another and the one brewing was the second one that day.

''How you flirt with him to get my attention, Y/N.'' Phillip's voice was low and irritated, and it set your emotions ablaze, a roaring inferno within your mind. 

“Of course, because it's always about you. I definitely talk to my squad member specifically to get your attention, silly me.'' The minute he walked in, you prepared yourself for this. It would be abnormal for an interaction between the two of you to not turn into an argument.

''He's so boringly predictable that I caught you looking at me at least 50 times. Go on though, I do enjoy the show.'' Arrogance was dripping off his tongue like second nature, along with that all familiar smirk that made your insides hurt.

''Don't you ever get tired of hearing your own voice, Graves? Or do you get off of ticking every box in the 'how to be a perfect narcissist' list?'' You shrieked, hating the way your voice came out your throat but the way in which he threw his shoulders back and laughed in a cruel tone made you see red.

Suddenly he was much closer, leering down at you. It wasn't clear to know who moved first, or who would next.

''Me? A narcissist? You're the one who wants every man's attention on you.'' He growled lowly and stood to full height, his demeanor making you swallow thickly as he loomed closer and stared you down. Out of habit you straightened your spine, lips curling back into a scowl.

''Shut your fucking mouth, Graves-" The blood running through your veins was pumping hot, you wanted to pour it out and paint everything around you red, so it matched the fury riding you with every word he threw in your way. Phillip's response didn’t ease you any.

''Is that what you did to earn your spot hm? Fuck your way to the top?'' His tone dripped with scorn as he responded to you, his words carrying an edge sharper than a sword.

''Say that again, Graves. I fucking dare you.'' Spitting the words with teeth bared, and fists clenched as you circled each other, you poked at his chest firmly, the muscles twitching beneath your fingertips.

Your gaze met his with stubborn defiance, nearly ready to just explode and punch him. Maybe that would make you feel better, knocking some sense into his enormous ego.

There was nothing you despised more than another man undermining your career and progress, belittling you as if you were not greater than all of them combined when holding a sniper riffle in your hands.

What made it worse, was that you knew Graves was doing that to get a reaction out of you, to push your buttons without meaning a single word pouring out of his mouth. It was a facade, you knew that. The first thing he ever said to you, was to compliment your skills, which made his intention even more infuriating.

''You could try that with the Shadow Company next, I promise to give you a higher rank if you use that mouth-'' It was as though your hand had a brain of it's own, moving automatically with force to meet with his cheek and the corner of his mouth, leaving the tender skin red to the touch and the corner of his bottom lip reddening with drops of blood.

''Is that all you got?'' He mocked, his voice gravelly as his fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly, preventing you from moving an inch. Your anger dissipated in the favor of fear the very second you saw his expression.

You were volatile and explosive, but that's how you craved it, and even then, your desire to be fucked by him had trumped all your wrath, in fact, your rage had just heightened it. It was pure madness and the was no rational explanation to it nor that you cared to find one.

Glowering, hands itching to hit him once more, you turned on your heel, aiming for the door and intending to get black-out drunk with Simon as you assumed that he was downing his fifth beer by then, when he grabbed you by the back of your neck and hauled you against him.

You struggled, clawing and scratching his arms as they banded around you and held you trapped. He was chuckling in your ear, you could feel how turned on he was, and your inner voice was crooning that you got just what you wanted, but you ignored it. You wanted to fight yet your body had something entirely different in mind while a flow of slick started to soak up your panties as Graves pressed his manhood into you.

''You fucking-'' The thoughts running wild through your mind interrupted your own words, the ebb and flow of your gazes intensifying by the second though it felt like an eternity of his blue eyes piercing through your soul like he could sense every filthy fantasy hiding behind them. You didn't dare to move and in the end, you didn't have to.

You were both breathing heavily, tension wrought to the extreme as you were staring at each other, not really fathoming how you ended up like this. It was pure excitement, trepidation, like you were desperately waiting for something to happen.

This was the culmination of whatever instinctive, subconscious game the two of you had been playing from the very first mission you'd embarked on collaborating with him, a game of push and push between the two of you until the breaking point.

Graves pushed forward, his lips brutally meeting your own. He bit down on them, hard and cruel, loving the cry you whimpered out as he savored you whole. His hand moved from the side of your head to the back of it, tugging the hair there to tilt your head to his.

The agony was a pleasure as you reciprocated his intoxicating kiss, angry and violent as you teared at his lips. Your sharp teeth aggravated the wound on his lip, and you tasted blood on your tongue.

''Fucking brat-'' He instantly pulled back, his fingers grasping your jaw to keep you in place.

You shivered at his words, a new heat blooming over every surface of your body. Your cheeks tingled and you squirmed in his grip, squeezing your thighs together as you calculated your next move carefully.

"You're such a bastard!" You quirked your head as you breathlessly yelped, almost fearlessly before sliding your arms free of his hold and threaded them into his hair before pulling him in to capture another kiss, hotter and even more passionate than the last.

Phillip responded in an instant, letting his tongue slide against yours, hungrily whilst he tangled his free hand in your hair, gripping painfully, deepening the kiss, like it could be the last thing he ever does.

Your body seemed to burst into a flame of mingled rage and lust, and you knew he felt the same from the desperate, almost angry growl he made the sensation overwhelmed you both. 

Sinking your nails into his scalp, you pressed your hips hard against his erection, feeling him gasp into your mouth before lifting his head to take another look at you, his fingertips never leaving your jaw.

Phillip licked his lips unconsciously as he stared down at you, but before you could say anything, he had brought his face once more closer to yours, his eyes half-lidded and full of desire.

''And you're a fucking slut.'' Once more your hand was lifted in the air, intending to slap him for a second time, but he caught it as it swung for his face and took hold of your other before you could attempt it again. With one swift move, he maneuvered your body around and pinned both of your wrists in a firm grip behind your back before your brain could catch up to what was happening.

Head shaking, arms straining as you tried to break out of his hold, huffing and giving in when he only held onto you tighter, walking both of you closer to the wall, pressing your front hard against it. Panting, furious, your heartbeat thundered somewhere in your throat. The Commander's form was a solid taut weight caging you in, imposing, all muscle, a hard line of his desire against your lower back.

''Someone needs to fuck that attitude out of you, Y/N.'' The words made your toes curl and your hips arch, betraying how desperate you looked, splayed out on his command center for his pleasure. The side of his face was so close to yours that you could feel him breathing down on you, his lips at the shell of your ear.

The other hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around your wrists moved to hold your jaw, squeezing tightly to the point of discomfort.

Briskly, he released your arms, spinning around to pounce on the man before you and quickly pressed your back against the wall once more so you can be chest to chest.

''And that's gonna be you, Graves?'' You met his fire with your own, staring unflinchingly into the heated pools of stormy sea. The question was as close to begging as your pride would allow.

''No one else can. No one else can fuck you the way you deserve but me, soldier.'' He stated, face lowering to yours and his tone low and menacing, the promise of retribution sent shivers down your spine.

The grotesque snarl of words should have made you put him in his place, despise of the outcome. Any other day you would have, but instead, your body had different plans.

''Is that a threat, Commander?'' You croaked out, a smirk settling on your face. How you managed to still be coy in a situation where you knew you had no power was insane and the look on his face confirmed it as his fingers around your jaw grew tighter and you winced in pain. 

''Oh, I don't make threats, Sergeant. I make guarantees.'' There was that deep chuckle again. The one that vibrated up his throat until it bubbled out to bless your ears and slither goosebumps down your spine.

Darkly, he challenged your moral compass that was screaming for you to get away from his intoxicating presence. The smirk formed on his lips was wicked, provocative. The prey was finally caught.

''Let's see how far your arrogance can take you then, Commander.'' With a hint of sarcasm, you challenged him back, deliberately imbuing his title with a sensual cadence. His skin was flushing to you calling him by his rank, a blotchy red slowly encroaching from his throat to his cheeks. It was an interesting kind of power to have over someone. 

For a few seconds he just stared you down, eyes adapting the darkest shade of blue. The sensation simmering down in your abdomen was quickening the pace of your heartbeat trying to burst out of your ribcage in a mingle of fear and arousal. It was taking over every single nerve in your body and there was no way of stopping it, not that you desired to.

With a quick use of his brute strength he hoisted you up, having you scrambled to wrap your legs around his waist while his hands moved to your ass to hold you up.

''You won't even comment on the fact that someone could walk in right now and see you in such a mess, Y/N?'' Phillip murmured gravelly, his lips biting the soft skin of your throat intending to break the skin as he was backing you closer to the table behind you, quickly hoisting you to sit on it. He settled between your legs, hands gripping just above your knees.

''God, you must be so fucking desperate for it, huh?'' He was right, of course. The possibility of someone walking in was more than enough to let shame start creeping in your system and yet all it took was one look at his face. The way the moonlight was shining through the window to define his cheekbones even more, experience visible through the wrinkles decorating the corners of his eyes as they stared into your soul.

''You're taking your sweet time with this, Graves. I'm starting to think that you're all bark and no bite.'' You can’t help the smug smile that spread across your lips as you saw the flare of anger flash in his eyes, finding the way he was so quick to be irritated, quite fascinating.

That little defiant glint still sat in your eyes, and he was absolutely determined to remind you who was in charge by the end of the night.

"Oh, I'll show you how I bite.'' He growled, thrusting his clothed erection against your center, a loud whimper escaping your lips to the friction. 

Gasping, you felt his lips leaving a wet trail down the length of your jaw before he settled in the hollow beneath your ear, an erogenous zone he’d discovered, devoting his attentions there. All your body could do in response was cling to him, mewls and sighs falling haphazardly from your lips.

“I dream about your cunt,” He stated, lifting his head up, smoldering eyes locked on yours as your elbows struggled to keep your balance against the wooden surface.

"How it feels.  How it looks.  How it tastes. I dream of fucking ruining you till you can't move to save your life." Every filthy word out of his mouth was a direct attack to your throbbing core as he maneuvered your hips upwards to yank the fabric of your jeans down to your ankles, legs exposed to the cool air of the stone room.  Your gaze followed his, eyes glued hungrily on the obvious wet spots in your panties.

''Fuck- Do it then.'' Clearly, you weren't thinking when your mouth formed the words, "Fucking do it, already-" But it was spoken harshly between the ragged breaths of your desire, and it was all the invitation he needed.

"You're not the one who gets to make commands here," He growled, taking a sinful pride in the drawn out whimper that he had dug out from you.

''Pathetic.'' And so he lifted one of those large hands to your face and pressed his thumb into your mouth, the pad of it resting on your bottom row of teeth as he dragged your jaw down, forcing your mouth wide open.

Trembling with a sudden onslaught of unexpected arousal at having someone else's fingers between your lips, feeling the flutter in your soaked cunt again only this time it was more intense, fiercely with your legs shaking to the sensation.

Your hands moved on their own as Graves' thumbs pressed deeper into your mouth, gliding and pressing at your tongue as you slid them down the length of his body, feeling every defined muscle underneath his blue shirt, going lower and lower, until you were curving one palm around the shape of the Commander's cock confined within his dark shaded jeans.

Impatience took over you, lifting the hem of your shirt, hastily tugging the fabric up and throwing it to the side and before you could touch him again, his hands were at your sides, sliding over the mounds of your breasts and then there was another tug and a louder ripping sound as he teared your bra at the front.

His own pupils, now blown with a heated desire, locked into your glazed expression. Having his fingers toy with your mouth earlier had already caused a small string of saliva to run down your chin and he couldn't help the smirk starting to flicker onto his lips. He had barely started to touch you and you already looked all sorts of fucked up. 

Your outrage couldn't even register before his warm mouth was on your skin, sucking at your nipples, pinching and biting and rubbing the soothing pad of his thumb over each one after any rough treatment. The chill of the night air was an electrifying contrast to the warmth of his mouth and hands as you were openly moaning and writhing to the way he massaged and teased every inch of nakedness before him.

''Me or you?'' You hum innocently to his previous remark as you pressed your palm against him, stroking the long line of heat firmly, and he hissed as his hips bucked forward just as desperately, his hands suddenly coming up to catch both of your wrists, bringing them down to your sides, the grip just tight enough to sting.

Indignation flashed in those midnight blue eyes. There was something off from his normal heated gaze. This look he was giving you was more than just argumentative, more than just fired up. It was absolutely primal. The heat had shifted. While usually he was more reminiscent of a volcano during an eruption, now he seemed to be the moments before, it was a slow heat. Dangerous. 

"I'm not in the mood for games.'' Graves breathed heavily, bending over you to nip at your lips before hearing the sound of his belt touching the ground to finish what you started, freeing himself.

You couldn't tear off your eyes from the obscene sight in front of you as he took himself in one hand while the other came to rest high on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your core, tantalizingly close. He stroked himself once, twice, pressing himself against you and pausing for a moment, just long enough for you to grow restless.

He sighed, the sound more like a growl than anything, steam escaping from his nose.

''I should've done this a long time ago.'' He ripped your legs apart, tugging onto your dripping underwear until it was on the ground, grunting as your slick coated his fingers before he rubbed his cock against your entrance. Every part of your body tightened, a bare spark of pleasure almost exciting you when his cockhead scraped your clit.

You couldn't believe that someone you absolutely despised was giving you some of the best pleasure you'd ever felt. Wanton moans fell from your lips as he jackhammered your cunt. His hand tangled in your hair and yanked your head back.

''You like that hm? You like being treated as a little slut?'' His voice was raspy and full of lust before he pushed forward, drawing all air from your lungs with a loud yelp as he buried himself deep inside you.

''Commander-'' Despite your efforts, the call was loud, urgent. He didn’t start slowly. He was rough, punishing, desperate, taking you with everything he had, as though he was claiming you right where anyone could walk in to see it.

Phillip sped up his pace exponentially, sweat breaking out across his forehead. ''Answer me-'' You became a boneless mess under the power of his ruthless thrusting, slamming into you with such force that you were sure there would be bruises where his hip bones met yours tomorrow.

''Fuck- Yes, damn you!'' You mewled loudly, then covered your mouth with one hand, fearful of passersby. He pulled your hand away, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up into his eyes as he took you against the shaking table.

''I can tell by the look on your face." He said gruffly. ''You can’t get enough of me can you?'' You placed your forehead on his shoulder, embarrassed to look at him.

''Look at me, Y/N.'' He said in response to this. You slowly looked back at him. ''Good girl.'' He muttered, grabbing your hips and pounding into you.

His hips bucked slowly, riding his twitching length inside your warm folds as he withheld his own noises. ''Beg for it, go on." He gave a firm, sharp smack to your ass, gripping on it tightly whilst using the sound to hide the low groan he released.

He didn't want to hold back any longer, but he refused to let you have your way, especially when you were already so close to come undone under his touch. Your dripping cunt was leaking onto him with every deliberate thrust, letting him glide in and out with ease.

He hunched back over you , pressing his chest down onto you as much as he could without breaking his hold on your arms. "Fucking beg-" He gave a feral groan before sliding out of you without the intention of going back in. A strangled whine escaped you, once again, jerking your hips back against him, trying to provoke him, to get him inside, get him to continue, anything. He refused to relent.

"Whimpering doesn't count, doll." He whispered against your ear. His tone is hard, unyielding. Prick.

His stubbornness was torturous for the both of you. It was a battle to see who could break their composure first and he was about to go fucking berserk. Eventually, you lost it. It wasn't until he had pulled back and dragged his tip to the entrance of your sopping cunt once more that he finally heard you gasping a loud breath as he slowly prodded against the heat.

"Please- Fuck, just- please!'' Your desperate response seemed to please him enough, the sudden build-up of pressure and heat in your body was allowed to be released as his length was quick to plunge into your body, sending the entire table to lurch backwards slightly.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were obscene, not really caring that the two of you were doing such a private thing in a place that anyone could walk into at any moment.

He was not gentle, or tender but you hadn’t expected Phillip fucking Graves to be that. His thrusts came fast and hard as he took his pleasure cause that was what he thrived in. Take and take and take, though you gave gladly, growling out praise in ragged whispers that you couldn't barely grasp.

You grabbed tightly onto his shoulders, screaming out in delight as he fucked you into you in a brutal. You felt your legs tingle and your mind go numb. All you could focus on was the warm feeling in your stomach, the bundle of nerves within you going crazy.

The hot tears continued to pour down your cheeks with each merciless thrust ripping through your body as your teeth pierced the soft skin of your lip, the taste of iron touching your taste buds whilst the wet slaps of his body against yours filled the room, accompanying the pain shooting through your core.

''Crying? Is this too much for you, baby?'' There was sarcastic, mock-disappointment in his tone, the repetitive press into you and the wonderfully satisfying stretch of his cock only deepening the catharsis of the intimacy you were sharing with him.

He grabbed your hips and started pounding you with newfound vigor. You could feel yourself clenching around him. It wouldn't be long before you peaked. You dipped a hand between your legs and started rubbing your clit, willing the moment to come faster. You closed your eyes and sighed, both in pleasure and exasperation.

''Too good- Commander-'' This time, you needed no further prompting and there wasn’t a single hint of brattiness in your tone as you submitted to his request fully, whining for him. Waves of ecstasy pulsed through your body, overwhelming you. Noises you didn't recognize poured out of your lips as your body began to spasm and convulse around him.

''That's my fucking girl.'' His last words came out in a rough growl as he pulled out of you again, before thrusting back in, so hard that you started seeing stars and shriek with pleasure.

The room was filled with your sounds, no longer able to control the moans and whimpers that left you as pounded into you, white dots clouding your vision to your orgasm overwhelming your body hard, shattering as he thrusted and swirled, setting off a wild pulsing in your clit that triggered your insides, and you came all over his cock with a scream followed by a shudder of shaky breath.

Graves kept his ever-the-rougher pace, holding you tighter and tighter, but you felt the slight stutter in his hips that suggested that he was close to his own climax. He started gasping out sentences, heavy statements that surmounted to desperation. ''You're mine, fuck- all mine-''

You could feel yourself growing light-headed in the best way as his embrace restricted your breathing to a further degree, and you gasped sharply as he said your name, the syllables transforming into a vicious growl just as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, deep enough to draw blood and deep enough to make you cry out in pain. 

Cleansing, freeing pain, the kind that purged every transgression you knew you’d enacted against him, and him against you.

He followed shortly after as he began to shake subtly, his movements sporadic and wild as he lost control of his body. You surrendered yourself to his control as he pumped aggressively into you, dictating what he needed from your body as he arrived upon completion whilst tightening the grip on your hair almost painfully as he emptied himself inside you.

The weight of his body collapsing against you felt almost comforting in that moment, gasping and absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles into your scalp where he’d just been tugging your hair by the roots.

''So..'' he started, his voice strained and weak. ''Learned your lesson yet?'' Cocky bastard.

You chuckled quietly, and you could feel him smile against your skin.

''Think I might need a few more lessons, Commander.'' Shamelessly, you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up as he lifted his head to take another look at you.

''I might have to thank the fucking Scot after all.''

[rainghosted]

Just some physical touch with Starker

Peter never really noticed how much he craved touch until Tony came into his life, not as Iron Man, not as the genius-billionaire Avenger, but as the man who reached for his hand first without hesitation.

It started small, fingers brushing in the lab as they handed each other tools. The way Tony would gently knock his shoulder into Peter’s when he made him laugh. Casual, effortless, simple. But over time, it grew.

In Public

Tony Stark was a man who didn’t shy away from attention, but when it came to Peter, his touches were softer, more grounded.

They’d be walking through the Tower or a crowded gala, and Tony’s fingers would instinctively find Peter’s.

Sometimes, Tony would rest a possessive hand on Peter’s lower back while guiding him through reporters or agents. Other times, when Peter looked a little tired or anxious, Tony would slip an arm around his waist, keeping him close, steadying his steps without saying a word.

Once, at a fundraiser, Peter had been overwhelmed by the press attention and flashing lights. Tony had leaned over, whispered, “Deep breath, babyboy,” and slid his hand into Peter’s, squeezing just enough to ground him. Peter held on like it was a lifeline.

In Private

That’s where the touches bloomed into something richer.

Peter loved how Tony’s hands always found him, whether it was a lazy Saturday or a post-mission wind-down. Tony would come up behind him at the kitchen counter, arms snaking around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder.

“You’re warm,” Tony would mumble, and Peter would lean back into him with a soft smile.

At night, Peter fell asleep best with his head on Tony’s chest, the gentle beat of his arc reactor humming beneath his cheek. Tony’s hand would play in his curls, sometimes trailing up and down his back.

On couch nights, Peter often found himself stretched out with his legs tangled in Tony’s, his back against Tony’s chest. They’d watch movies, half-paying attention, more focused on each other’s touch than the plot.

And Tony?

He always touched with purpose. A hand over Peter’s as they worked in the lab. A soft brush of knuckles against his jaw after an argument. Fingertips dancing along Peter’s thigh when they sat too close during team meetings.

Peter would blush. Tony would smirk. And neither would move away.

After a Bad Mission

Peter had come back with bruises. Nothing serious, but enough to have Tony pacing.

When Peter finally returned to the Tower, sore and exhausted, Tony didn’t speak. He just pulled him close, arms tight around his shoulders. Hand buried in Peter’s hair. Foreheads pressed together.

They didn’t need words. Peter’s slight tremble and Tony’s steady grip said everything.

“You always hold me like I’m going to break,” Peter murmured.

“No,” Tony whispered back. “I hold you like you’re the only thing I can’t afford to lose.”

And When the World Went Quiet.

It was late. Rain tapped at the windows, the city muffled in a dreamy hush. Peter stood at the glass, watching the skyline in Tony’s oversized hoodie, hair messy from sleep.

Tony came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist, burying his nose in his neck. They swayed gently, no music needed.

“I missed you today,” Peter whispered.

Tony held him tighter. “I missed you every minute.”

From hand-holding in public to chest-to-back hugs in the privacy of their room, Tony and Peter didn’t need grand gestures to prove anything.

And the way their hands always found their way back, whether lost in a crowd or lying in silence—said more than words ever could.

They had each other.

[kimberbohwrites]

Can I request a drabble where Rolan overheard that gn Tav genuinely thought Rolan still hates them but just learnt to tolerate them? When in reality, he's been in denial about his crush on them for the longest time but accepted it recently 🤣

First of all— I am sorry that this took so long for me to get to. I rarely find time for asks and it took me awhile to get to this one— some of these I just needed more practice for tbh. I am striving to be better, however I am incredibly busy at work so I cannot promise you I always will be. Instead I promise you that I will always try to make your ask worth the wait.

Words Yet Unsaid

Rolan x Reader, SFW, only lightly edited

Word Count: 1214

Tags: Misunderstandings, fluff, and love confessions

Rolan sits down in front of you with a huff. There is a flush about his face that is so… him. The color on his cheeks paints a starker backdrop for the freckles that dot his face. Despite your so-called nerves of steel you cannot help but quickly glance away from the sight as your heart began to race in your chest.

The silence stretches and you look back across to find him nervously studying the wood grain of the table between you.

Sensing your gaze, he straightens up and clears his throat. He smoothes the simple but well-made dark blue tunic he’d worn with the tight leather breeches you could not help but notice as he’d joined you.

The color he’d chosen suited him well. Distracting you almost as much as the way his bottom and thighs had looked, no longer hidden behind the wizard robes. This was the first time you had ever seen him in at the tavern in casual clothes — sharp as these were.

The Elfsong Tavern was usually a good place to identify oneself as a great and powerful archwizard. But instead, he’d chosen to dress up and blend in with you. But why?

You tried not to let the racing of your heart, and the flush of your cheeks hide you from the cold truth that Rolan had never liked you. You were certain that this meeting he had arranged through Lia, was some sort of attempt at arbitration of your longstanding feud for the sake of his siblings.

Truth be told you had never wanted to fight with Rolan. It just happened every time you two had interacted since the very first time you’d crossed paths in the Druid’s Grove. That ire had only grown through the experiences that followed in the Shadow Cursed Lands and even when you’d slain his corrupt master and ended his apprenticeship abruptly.

So much pressure had instantly been thrust upon him, becoming master of the tower and archwizard of Baldur’s Gate so suddenly. Of course he’d be frustrated further by you.

Despite your best attempts to avoid him, your friendship with his siblings had caused you to repeatedly cross paths. It had been months now since the restoration of the city was considered complete, after you had ended the crisis. You’d attempted to returned to a normal life.

It was simple and gratifying, but something was missing.

“Thank you for joining me here this evening, you look lovely”

His tone cut through your thoughts; it sounded warm but a quick glance to his face revealed that warmth didn’t reach past his words. He looked… uncomfortable. Like your presence somehow pained him.

Tears sting in your eyes as you clear your throat and quickly stand.

“This was a bad idea.”

He opens his mouth, and his hand moves across the table like he’s reaching for you. Before he can form a word you continue.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, I can tell this isn’t something you want to be doing”

You turn quickly to leave before he can say anything and before the tears you feel welling up are too much to hide. Your stride is quick and sure across the familiar boards of the tavern and out on to the streets that raised you.

The cool night air of the city was an immediate balm for the panic that had caused you to flee the tavern. All you needed to do was avoid Rolan for the rest of your life now, great.

You groan as you continued down the dark and empty streets. All of this weighs heavy on you but it becomes unbearable when the low roofs of the houses and shops fall away. As the street spills out into the open area which reveals Sorceress Sundries and the large structure which you knew was the point of travel for Ramazith Tower — the massive and beautiful wizard tower Rolan now called home.

It is as if the weight of the massive structure itself is on you now and you are stopped in your tracks. It’s then you hear your name called and the sound of someone running after you in the dark.

“Tav, wait! Please!”

You turn quickly to see Rolan sprint after you, still somehow looking perfect in his nice clothes despite the struggle of catching up to you. You glower momentarily at the thought that he will apparently always be gorgeous. Typical.

He catches up to you, huffing and puffing as his tail lashes out to steady him while he catches his breath.

“Why would you run after me?” You say with a whisper and you take a step closer to him, unsure if you’re needed to render aid for the struggling man.

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t hate… you… Tav….” He puffs out the words as he catches his breath.

Your blood runs cold at the words. It’s like you can feel the night breeze itself move through you.

“Rolan…”

You don’t know how to continue, and it gives him the opportunity to catch his breath and explain himself further.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have tried something so public to talk, Lia warned me, she didn’t say you’d run but…”

He sensed he was rambling and shook his head as if to clear it and start over. Your breath caught when his jaw tensed, the perfect bone structure always so eye catching, so hard to resist.

“I needed to tell you Tav, I don’t hate you. I… I overhead you talking to Cal and Lia about why you keep your distance when they invite you for dinner. I.. I should have apologized better — after all we had gone through—“

“We should have found time to talk…” You add

He takes a step closer to you, as if drawn to you and this time you don’t run.

“Why… Why would you run after me Rolan?” You ask

“Tav…”

“Why do you even care now?”

You can’t help it. The tears that had threatened you earlier, now spill down your cheeks as you pepper Rolan with questions.

He closes the distance to you quickly, his hands on your cheeks. You barely register the softness of the pads of his thumbs as they brush the tears away from your cheeks before you are swept away by the feeling of his lips, crashing into yours.

Your breath catches in your throat. You can’t help but moan into the kiss as his body presses firmly to yours.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours and you feel his tail coil around your thigh. Keeping you flush with him as he speaks.

“Because, Tav… I love you. I think I have always…” He gasped as if the realization fully dawned on him as he spoke, “I think I have always loved you.”

You kiss him now, no words on your tongue could be sweeter than to feel his lips against yours once more.

There would be time for words but for right now you wanted to keep kissing the wizard and so you do.

Under the open skies and the stars that shine each night over the city of Baldur’s Gate, wrapped in the strong arms of the man you loved, you kissed him with all the passion of the words in your heart yet unsaid.

[awesomelly]

There is something I need to get off my chest in the Nimona fandom:

I dislike the depiction of Ballister being a subservient, emotional and fragile man, especially when in comparison to Ambrosius who is often pictured as the manly protector and voice of reason in their relationship - both in pre-canon and post-canon fanfics.

This isn't correct. I have to state it that way.

Let me explain:

The basic principle of a good narrative is to have people/characters act opposite to their nature. That means to put those characters in situations where they are forced to adapt and overcome obstacles, otherwise situations wouldn't be obstacles if it was easy.

And this is true for both Ambrosius and Ballister in the movie as well.

As you can see even in this tiny glimpse of the scene before the knighting ceremony (where everything was still sorted and their lives were still adjusted to their characters), you can see how Ambrosius is the one fuming at Todd's teasing. And Ballister is the one who stops him with a simple gesture and a slight headshake no. In the lair scene and the innocent's wall Ballister even corrects himself for repeating Nimona that Todd needs a good punching, so that scene above must have happened more than once beforehand during their time as squires - Ballister is the one with a straight determination, a cool head and a reasonable attitude while Ambrosius is righteously emotional at the provocation of his boyfriend.

Ambrosius proves his righteous and emotional character trait by forcing Ballister out of his brooding and trying to lighten him up by goofing around. Don't get me wrong, I love this trait of Ambrosius, and it gives us a perfect insight how the relationship works; apparently very well in their different ways of calming their nerves:

Another proof is the way Ballister ascends the steps during the knighting ceremony. He is determined despite his nerves whereas Ambrosius whoo-hooed at the spectators and then at Ballister after he is knighted. Again, a perfect opposite of reason (Ballister) and emotional outlet (Ambrosius):

And then everything goes to shit. This is where the story begins - can begin in the first place, actually.

Ballister's and Ambrosius' controlled lives crumble to dust and they are faced with exact opposites: Ambrosius is forced to take the role as a leader and a cool-minded persecutor of the man that he loves. A starker contrast is nearly impossible. And we can see an exposure of his true nature during the scene in the carriage with the Director, where he loses it in his mind but has to (and succeeds!) in suppressing his true emotions.

He even succeeds while he is facing Ballister but the struggle in his face is visible:

Ballister, on the other hand, loses his focus and goal in life in one single strike (literally). He is badly injured and still manages to hide, take care of his wound, and build himself a functioning prosthetic. He is on edge, worsened by the fact that a kid rampages in his life that has an overflow of emotions and attitudes. Ballister is forced to accept his new role and has to cope with a variety of very difficult and deep emotions. This is hilarious and fun, of course, but why is it that way? Because it is the exact opposite to his nature.

During the movie, depths of his character get exposed that would normally never come to the surface. That does not mean that Ballister isn't per se emotional or sometimes silly but the large mimics and gestures of him during the movie are a sign of his absolute overextension:

Both their characters are developing in this movie. Ambrosius becomes responsible without losing his sunny nature while Ballister breaks old habits of keeping to himself to become more expressive without losing his autonomy and his integrity. He is strong because of his fears and pushing through it with bravery, he is independent because he develops a deep connection to Nimona and ultimately saves her from herself, and he is manly because he shows his emotions with such intensity during the movie.

In summary: You need characters to face difficult situations because that's how character development is possible at all! It's the same thing in real life.

So, please understand that a superficial view on the pairing just does not suffice. Especially considering Ballister. And no, a simple hand placement, the crook of an eyebrow, or a slight difference in height does not depict who is top or bottom in a relationship!

I want you to know that every headcannon and alternation of the original canon is absolutely fine bc everyone deserves to build their own headspace, but please don't project anything ooc on these characters when it is a dysfunctional power play or a degradation of one character.

Thank you for reading! I am open for discussion!

[babybatscreationsv2]

Hot Couture

Marvel | Starker

It's been a long hard day and Tony can't think of anything better than eating his baby out until it all fades away. Peter's been waiting all day for Tony to present him with the bag he's been asking for and now here the man is asking for sex. That man has a lot to answer for coming home empty handed, or so Peter thinks.

Rating: Explicit

For my H <3

Inspired by this fic

Warnings/tags: mafia au, brat!Peter, degrading language, rimming, feminine terms for male parts, rough sex, money kink?, daddy kink, cum facial

Tony stepped through the door and shrugged his jacket from his shoulders to be dropped carelessly on the coat rack where it barely clung to the wood. He let out a breath and with it went the stress of the day, or at least tiny bits of it. Then his eyes landed on Peter. Beautiful as ever. He'd spent the day being pampered just as he deserved. His hair was professionally styled and his nails were buffed and manicured. He liked the way they clicked against the glass of his phone's screen.

Peter looked up at him. His gaze was warm and affectionate, further stripping away the day's stress. Tony rolled up his sleeves as he took his first steps across the office.

"Hi, daddy! How was your day?" Peter greeted. He didn't put his phone down and his feet were still propped up on the desk. He was the picture of luxury in one of his pretty robes, sheer with nothing underneath.

"Awful," Tony huffed. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, daddy. And also, I missed your credit card. You won't believe what just happened-"

"Not now, baby. I missed you," Tony tried again.

Peter's eyes narrowed. "Not now? Not now?!" He took his feet off the desk to sit up straight.

"It's been a long day, baby. I just want to relax. Let me have you first." Tony reached the desk and dropped to his knees, looking no less than a man in a drought, kneeling before a fresh water spring. The heel of Peter's foot connected with his forehead, holding him back.

"This is important. The bag I wanted just sold out. The one I told you about this morning? You said you'd get it for me when you got back."

"Things ran late today, baby. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?!"

Tony ignored him, taking him by the calf to press kisses to his ankle. He moaned at the taste of his skin. The day melted away. He kissed his way up Peter's calf, savoring each one. He was so soft. His skin was so salty, sweet, so warm and inviting.

"You're not even listening to me. Is this a joke to you?"

"No, baby, of course not," Tony mumbled against his skin. "You'll have whatever you want."

"Get me that bag."

Tony nodded, pulling the tie on his robe. "Of course, sweetheart. You'll have it." Peter grabbed him by the hair. Tony looked up into his glaring face.

"How are you gonna do that, daddy? Didn't you hear what I said?" His pretty boy glared at him with nothing short of malice. He couldn't stand for him to be so upset. Maybe he should have made time to deal with that today.

"It's sold out, I know," Tony assured him. "I'll track one down for you. I'll take it off a corpse if I have to."

"I want it by morning."

"By morning, I swear. Just let me have you. Please baby, it's been such a long day."

A slow smirk spread across Peter's lips. The displeasure on his face vanished. "I want diamonds."

"You have diamonds-" he gasped as Peter, still holding him by his hair, tugged at his roots.

"Better ones. Bigger."

"Of course. Anything you want."

"See, you keep saying that, but I'm not seeing any results."

"Please, baby. I need you. Need to taste your pretty pussy." His hands slid up Peter's thighs. Peter let go of his hair to tap his cheek with his fingers.

"Of course you do. You always need this pussy, don't you daddy?"

"Yes, baby." He leaned his head down, but Peter pushed him back with a foot on his shoulder.

"Well you don't deserve it."

"Baby-"

"Nope. I want diamonds, daddy. And my bag. And I want a new Lamborghini. A red one. And I'll need new boots to match."

"All of that, I swear."

"I'm not convinced." Peter licked two of his fingers and reached down between his legs. Tony shivered, watching those fingers trace his hole. He licked his lips, mouth gushing with saliva, his whole body burned with need.

"Please, Pete, sweetheart. I'll buy you anything you want, anything. Just let me have you, please baby."

Peter hummed. "First thing in the morning?"

Tony nodded his head. "First thing. Before coffee and everything. Please please," he panted.

"Well," he drew the sound out, tongue against his teeth. "Okay then."

Tony didn't wait for Peter to try to stop him again. He wrapped his arms around Peter's hips and buried his face between his legs. His tongue swiped over Peter's hole in a long slow stroke.

"Daddy," Peter mewled. His fingers curled in his hair. Tony licked him with long, savoring strokes of his tongue. He pulled his leg up over his shoulder, then did the same with the other, folding him in half. One of Peter's hands trailed down his neck and across his shoulders, searching for something to hold on to just to end up gripping the edge of the seat.

"I want-" he gasped. Tony's eyes flicked up to his face, annoyed that he was still speaking. His tongue slipped inside him, flicking against his insides. "I want a vacation," Peter continued even as his legs shook. "Want to see Europe. All of it. And a cruise."

Tony's hands spread him open, letting him sink his tongue inside just a little bit more. Peter moaned and Tony's eyes closed again as he enjoyed his treat.

"No, a yacht. I want a yacht- want to sail around Europe in a yacht- and news clothes for the trip-"

Tony grabbed both his legs and shoved him backward. He stood and pulled him from the chair to throw him over the desk.

"Hey!" Peter protested. Tony grabbed him by the hair, his other hand on his lower back, pressing him into the desktop.

"You're a spoiled fucking brat, do you know that?" Tony hissed.

"Whose fault is that?" Peter snapped, but there was strain in his voice where Tony bent his neck back. Tony took his hand off his back to grab the lube from the desk drawer where it sat next to all sorts of toys. They didn't miss an opportunity to enjoy each other. He barely squeezed it out onto his cock before he was stuffing himself inside.

Peter made a noise somewhere between moaning and choking. Tony grinned and shoved his face down onto the desk.

"That's more like it, huh sweetheart?" He moaned as his hips met Peter's plump ass. Peter tried to pull himself up the desk, too brain dead to even tell him how he was too deep, but Tony already knew he was hurting him. He leaned down over him. He dragged his teeth over his neck and bit into his shoulder. Peter only whimpered.

"Not so talkative now. Are you sure you don't have any more demands?" Tony purred.

"Fuck me," Peter gasped.

Tony chuckled. "That's my boy." He kissed his slack lips, tongue flicking against his teeth. Then he straightened his back. He hiked up one of Peter's legs onto the desk and thrust his hips forward. Peter moaned. There was a moment where Tony used him like a toy before he recovered enough to participate.

He grabbed the edge of the desk and pulled himself back. His moans were just as spoiled and greedy as he was.

"And I want-" he panted.

"You're still going?" He grabbed him around the neck and pulled him back on it. Peter grinned.

"Don't I deserve new things, daddy?"

"Whatever you want, baby. Now, be good for me."

"You'll be good for me won't you?" Peter teased. "You'll give me whatever I want."

"I always do, don't I?"

"You're such a good dog."

Tony scowled, feigning irritation despite the thrill it gave him to be so wrapped around Peter's finger. He was his dog, but if he said out loud what that made Peter, he'd spend the rest of his life in an actual dog house.

He reached into the back pocket of his pants that were hanging off his ass. He pulled a credit card from one of the pockets and stuffed it between his smiling lips. He startled, smile disappearing in shock. Peter melted again, into a pliant mess, moaning around the plastic.

"Who's a good boy?" Tony teased him. Peter didn't answer, though he knew he wanted to. Instead, he obediently left the card in his mouth while Tony fucked him and he looked all the more like a dog for it. He tried his damnedest not to bite down on the plastic, but the cock stretching out his hole made it impossible. It wasn't like Tony didn't have more.

Tony pressed him down against the desk, taking out the day's stress on Peter's perfect little pussy. He sighed heavily as it all melted away amid the sound of Peter's whimpering moans and the wet, squeeze around his cock. He listened to know when Peter was close, when he whimpers more than moans, unable to get off and teetering on the edge. He always preferred to cum untouched and so his hands still gripped the edge of the desk, waiting for Tony to take care of him.

Holding his hips, he adjusted his stance until he was grinding the head of his cock against Peter's sweet spot. His whining became frantic and squirm on his cock, trying to make himself cum even with his legs bent up in the least helpful position.

"Such a slut for me," Tony praised. "Let's see you cum for me, baby. You can do it."

Peter moaned, muscles tightening before his whole body went limp against the desk. Tony rolled him over. His legs dangled off one side, one foot on the floor. His robe hung open to either side of him. Cum was smeared across the fabric and clinging to his belly. He watched the boy pant as he touched himself, slowly walking around the desk to stand where his head hung off the other side.

He looked at him, soft and spoiled, teeth clamped around a hundred-grand. Peter opened his eyes and looked up at him. That tipped him over the edge. He stroked himself hard, letting his cum paint that pretty face, splattering against the credit card in his mouth, his cheeks, his long lashes. He looked at him and only wished he could cum again.

Peter rolled over and smiled at him, card still between his teeth, one eye too sticky to open. Tony took off his shirt and wiped his face with it. Then he tried to take the card from him and Peter growled like a dog. They both laughed and Peter let it go.

"Thank you, daddy."

Tony's hand cupped his face, sliding back to slip his fingers into his hair. "Finally tamed?"

"Never."

Tony gave him a kiss. A hand grabbed his softening cock and he gasped. "So damn greedy." He looked the boy in his eyes.

"Please, daddy. I wanna blow you." Peter fluttered his eyelashes.

"I'm spent, baby. Let's go to bed."

Peter's pressed his lips into a pout. "Are you saying I can't have anything I want?"

Tony scowled, but it fell quickly into a smile. Peter was just too damn precious.

"Let's take it upstairs, at least." Tony picked him up from the desk. Peter's arms wrapped around him.

"Good boy," Peter giggled and he kissed his cheek as he was carried to bed.

[starkerfestivals]

May is coming to an end! Thank you to everyone who participated in our little Mer-may event. And now... it's that time again!!

StarkerFestivals Summer Bingo– No wait! It's now:

StarkerFestivals Bingo 2025

We've decided to make some changes to how we do bingo and here they are!

This SF Bingo will run from June 1, 2025 to December 31, 2025

Because this is no longer strictly during the summer, we're just now calling it StarkerFestivals Bingo 💗

Cards will have a theme and maybe a few theme related prompts for fun. (You can always request a prompt change if any of the prompts aren't to your liking)

This year's theme is travel/resort vibes. 🌍✈️

What else has changed? Not much else tbh!

For anyone new or just needing a refresher, here are the basics:

StarkerFestivals Bingo 2025 is an event where participants will receive a personalized card with a 5x5 bingo of prompts. To fulfill a prompt, participants create content using the prompt.

Sign Up Opens: May 25, 2025 Cards will be sent out by June 1st. Anyone signing up after June 1 will receive cards within 1-3 days. Duration: June 1 - Dec 31 2025 What is allowed: Anything! Fics, art, moodboards, gif sets, anything Starker related and fills the prompt, we'll accept it Minimums: No minimums Exceptions: Only one prompt per fill, or one prompt per chapter for multi-chapter works Tags: #SFBingo2025 and on AO3

We're excited to welcome everyone, new and old, back to SF Bingo!

Sign up here!

If you have any questions, feel free to send an ask to the blog or dm @the-mad-starker or @starkersparks

More info and FAQ under the cut

How Do You Play?

As a participant, fulfilling prompts can be done at your leisure. We want everyone to have fun, so whether you fulfill 1 or do the entire card, it's up to you! There is no obligation to "win" bingo, but for those who want to go for it:

To "win," you will need to get five in a row via horizontal, vertical, or diagonal means. You can also win by getting the free space and all four corners. Finally, you can get a blackout by completing every square on the board. Visual examples:

Free space is free prompt choice. You can write or draw anything you like as a fill. Just please make sure it follows the rest of our rules as they apply.

Please elaborate on the "one prompt per fill"/multi-chapters?

The only rule is that it is one prompt per fill. The exception would be multi-chapter fics (ex: the prompt "falling in love" can be claimed for chapter 1 and then a 2nd prompt, first kiss, can be claimed for chapter 2. Or you create an accompanying moodboard with the prompt "Falling in love" and the fic is used to fulfill "first kiss".)

Is there an age restriction to join?

All ages are welcome! The sign-up form will ask if you would like SFW, NSFW, or both. Only 18+ participants may receive a card with NSFW prompts.

Filling out the Sign Up form– What are the different sections?

Username: Where we'll send the card (can be tumblr or email)

Card section: where you select the type of prompts you want (SFW, NSFW, Both)

Likes: This will give us a general idea of what prompts to give you.

Triggers/DNWs (Do Not Wants): Please let us know any triggers or DNWs and these will not show up on your card.

Prompts section: is an area where you'd like to submit prompts to our prompt generator.

Additional comments: Anything you wanna tell us that isn't included in any of the previous questions.

Can I post outside Tumblr?

Yes! While StarkerFestivals is based on tumblr, participants are free to post anywhere they want- we only ask that it's not behind a pay wall.

Can I sign up for multiple cards?

You can only have one card active at any time. You may ask for another card after you have won your old one. As for a new card, you should receive it within 1-3 days.

Do fills have to be strictly Starker?

They do not have to be strictly starker, but we ask that the focus is Starker since this is a Starker bingo.

Can I use a work to fill both my Starker bingo prompt and another event's?

Yup! We're cool with that, just make sure the other event is also fine with it.

[burial-at--sea]

the fact that he still has the stupid shirt tony gave him after taking his suit is one the most underrated starker moments.

he obviously wears it often, seeing how it was the first thing he pulled out of his closet, and you just know he thinks about tony every time he puts it on.

if only tony could see how amazing he looks in it.

[lixy-u]

Daily does of Starker #1

Hear me out, what about something like...?

Sick&Widowed!Peter x Superior IronMan! Tony

The first time they've met is when SI is hosting a funeral (more like public humiliation) for all the Avengers that died while trying to fight him.

Is it ironic that god-like Tony Stark ever cared ? Yes. Does he enjoy the attention while giving out small mercies for peasants? Also yes. It helps out his reputation while also pick-pocketing a few hateful glares here and there from the former Avengers. (They weren't there at the funeral but he knew they would be pissed off, mad even) and also gain more loyal dogs who willingly beg for a drop of his Extremis.

There caught his eyes in a corner, a young, lean frame dressing in a black suit with a black veil, his face is covered but Superior knows that's a hella pretty face, the kind he wanted to see cry out in pleasure on his bed. He's sure of. His hands clutching a worn out handkerchief, there, Superior saw it, the golden ring on his finger. His right fingers brushed against the golden band, his action is slow, like he's lost in thought, his hand is small delicate, kind of hand could never wield a gun, it makes Tony itch to take the hands and bite it.

The young figure caught his stares, his body shook as if he was stunned and didn't know what to do next facing Tony, he quickly averted his eyes.

Later on when it was time to bury all his opponents, that same figure stepped up and placed flowers on a certain coffin. Tony doesn't recognize the face or rather he didn't bother to, no one is important really.

"Here lies a son, a friend,"

How funny, Tony thought.

"...and a husband"

That young figure gets on his knees.

Ah, a widow.

---

Tony is drawn to Peter like a moth to the flame.

It all started out with the funeral, is it fucked up that he's interested in a widow the day their husband died by his hands ? Probably but that doesn't stop him from approaching the scary smart widow.

Peter is a pain in HIS ass. He carried out his late husband's plan to fight him to his last breath, many times Tony almost fell into his traps only to come back with the growing hunger he carries towards the widow. The pained, hatred eyes that never ceased to leave him with a face full of tears half hidden behind the veil, it's just another pest, he thought, oh how wrong was he ?

If patience is a virtue then Peter must be a saint, he lies low, plays weak, smiles pretty, lures his prey (Tony's men) causing him endless trouble.

He knows Peter's body is fucked up, a total mess and the only thing that can keeps Peter's alive is ...his Extremis. How ironic must it be huh ? The only way he can live long enough to kill his husband's murderer is to take up the same murderer's mercy. He can see the way his body trembles slightly when taking action, how his left foot can barely hold his body straight, his breath became erratic after a few minutes, the coughed up blood here and there. He's dying but also not. The hatred flames in his eyes grew strong, it drew Tony in it. Burn him alive.

They've each other countless times. But there were only 1 times where Peter managed to take him down. It was a genius plan, Tony admitted.

Still having the same black veil covered his face, Peter approached Tony with caution, but Tony could see how his legs were shaky.

Knife in hand,

"Boss, system reboots in 30 secs" FRIDAY said in his ear pieces.

Peter sits on top of him.

"25 secs"

Veil took off and revealed a pretty face with messy brown curls hugging his cheeks, glassy brown eyes staring at him with a pained expression.

"15 secs"

His hands raised high up.

"10 secs"

And down he goes, knife pressed against his throat.

"5 secs"

Peter's body trembled uncontrollably, tears had started to run down his face and fell on Tony's armour.

"3,2,1. Ready boss"

Tony quickly regained the control of the situation, now having Peter pinned down, he could see his face better.

He brought Peter back to his tower, there began their push and pull story. Tony is an irresistible man but Peter was more than Tony thought, he was smart, pretty, loyal, thoughtful,... All and all but not for Tony, it was for his late husband, the one Tony killed. It's like his affection gaze will never be Tony's, nor will his late night caress on his cheeks, neither could be the kiss on his arc reactor or the ring on his finger.

Peter's a widow.

And Tony killed his husband.

-------

Tony has never bargained in his life. Maybe his old self did (for the love he could never have) but Superior didn't because why bargain when he could have everything spread out perfectly on a silver plate for him ?

He never believed in god because again he has never bargained for something, he has never prayed for anyone. He is THE god himself.

He has never begged. Never on his knees in desperation, tears ran wild on his cheeks, wet his shirt collar leaving him disheveled like ever.

But right now, Tony wanted to bargain with death.

He wanted to bargain with Peter.

Tony Stark - Superior Iron Man, on his knees beside Peter's bed. The figure lay there, short breaths, dry laugh, his skeleton hand held firmly onto Tony's, another cough went by taking almost all his remaining life force out.

"You lost..."

Superior didn't respond, his eyes glued onto the monitor on Peter's left where a dozen bags of Extremis hung low trying to get injected into the younger male's body but the monitor keeps on repeating the same message "injection failed, body is incompatible with Extremis"

"Just like I did back then..."

"You lost"

"Why ?" Tony brought Peter's hand to his arc reactor, the blue light flickers.

"I thought I had abandoned my husband's plan, were you ? Fight you was never on the plan, the plan is to get people out of Extremis. This is the result," he pointed at himself.

"As for your other question...Why didn't I kill you before you capture me" He locked his eyes with Peter's, the hatred was still there buried deep down in those brown eyes, but the flame is gone, it's replaced by something triumphant.

"Spiderman doesn't kill"

"Death isn't the only penalty"

The frail body collapsed into his embrace, the warmth on his skin quickly turned cold and the breath slowly decreased by how long his chest took to go up and down.

"Boss ?" FRIDAY - still carefully monitor the vital chart.

"Increase the Extremis dose"

Injection failed, body incompatible.

"Increase"

Injection failed, body incompatible.

"Again"

Injection failed, body incompatible.

"More"

Injection failed...

----

It turned out Tony has never successfully escaped Peter's trap. He's too slow to comprehend how, was it the time where Peter first interrupted one of his plans ? Was it the time where Spiderman - despite being deeply wounded somehow managed to rip his one piece out of his armour? Was it the time where he saw his face covered by a veil ?

The second funeral Tony attended after becoming the Superior Iron Man.

He stood where Peter did years ago.

"Here lies, a son, a friend, a hero"

Spiderman doesn't kill.

Death isn't the only penalty.

Those words ring in his ears loud and clear.

"...and a husband"

Tony's finger brushed against the made up tin ring on his finger, the kind of ring made out of scraps that can be found anywhere in his labs.

He's right. Death isn't the only penalty, Peter knew.

The day they met, Peter knew what the perfect plan of revenge was.

Now dressed in black suit, a veil covered his face and a ring made out of scraps.

Tony Stark is a weeping widow.

----

Don't know tf I'm doing...