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seyenna · 3 years

Text

Philza and/or Techno and/or Ranboo fic recs

just some of my fav dsmp fics, mainly phil, techno or ranboo bc i’m biased but also a bunch of sbi and others

this one goes out mainly to zablr discord my beloved

pls tell me if the links don’t work

all of these are on ao3

rating\status(complete/ongoing)\warnings\word count\misc tags

ichor flows free amongst the iron by summer_rising

T\o\violence\13k\series\gods AU

Summary:

A gods and goddesses AU of the Dream SMP, dramatized for all our benefits.

First work:

"Two gods meeting on a mountaintop overlooking the stormy sea? Very classy, Dream, I appreciate your taste."

Dream didn't turn to look at him, but the faint shake of his shoulders let Techno know he had heard.

"Scar's healing up nicely, I see," Techno mumbled with a light nod of his head.

"Mhm. Cut nice and clean. Not that I expected any less from you, of course."

The god of power and the god of luck meet on a mountaintop to discuss Luck's standing in the ongoing political disaster.

We're Only Young by ImperialKatwala

G\o\-\66k\series\Dream & Technoblade

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

And when the sun comes up, you'll find a brand new god. by SkyboxZoo

M\o\violence\19k\gods AU

Summary:

The wounds from the fight had healed nigh instantly, but the golden blood still soaked Techno’s shirt. His cloak had gotten torn off and his hair had fallen out of its pony-tail. Ichor pooled in his boots. The man left a trail of golden, bloody footprints in his wake.

old gods (new gods) by WriterWinged

T\o\-\9k\series\gods AU

Summary of first work:

Survival, Blood, Madness. Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot. Three gods who have never cared for mortal life, who play with them when they want to, who kill their toys just as easily. How, then, did a mortal end up in their hands?

This House Is A Fucking Nightmare by SilverWing15

T\c\-\17k\series\sbi

Summary:

AU Where Phil isn't quite as willing to stand by while his sons drop like flies

Summary of third part (my fav):

Does lingering too long in the shadow of a god make you a god? The voices in his head seem to think so.

His brothers know he's older than them but they don't know how much

OR: Technoblade doesn't think his brothers realize how different they are from ordinary men. After all, ordinary men may fight the gods, but they don't win.

It's been a long day. by BecausePlot

G\c\-\3k\Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

Sides are bad: he knows that much. He’s seen it tear people apart time and time again, so when he decided to separate himself from Tubbo and keep his distance, he knew he was in the right.

Well. He thought he was in the right, at the time. Sitting all by himself on the steps to the Prime Path, he’s not so sure anymore.

Yes, the sides might have torn the others apart, might have made them so weak that they have no choice but to fold under Dream’s hand, but at least they aren’t lonely.

So are sides bad?

‘I don’t know.’

~*~

Or, Ranboo looks out at the ruins of L'Manburg, feeling more lost and lonely than he ever has.

But, as he soon finds, he's not as alone as he thinks.

the voices in my head, they say a lot of things by rosyasteria

-\c\violence\1k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

Some days the voices didn’t listen. They didn’t let up. They screamed instead of whispered, relentless, assaulting his ears until they bled.

tell them i was the warmest place you knew and you turned me cold by rosyasteria

-\c\-\2k\Techonblade-centric

Summary:

Technoblade cared. But in the end it just fucked him over.

For the majority of his life, Techno felt like less of a companion, less of a family member, and more like a weapon to be wielded. 'The Blade' they called him; never 'friend'.

It Leaves Little Time for Anything Else by mirandible

M\c\-\1k\part of series\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

A young man aims for the top, but fate has other plans for him. So does Technoblade, apparently.

(Or: answering the question of “Why does Techno hide his scars if they’re supposed to be some sort of trophy? Why keep your point of pride a secret?”)

the best requiem is a bar of silence (and I'll sing it, even if I must hold back my tears) by jello12451

T\o\-\10k\Philza & Technoblade

Summary:

He can’t help the noise of celebration that escapes him. Techno- this means that Techno’s free, and he got his horse back, and everything is alright-

Tubbo, filled with rage at Phil’s cheers, turns and impulsively shoots an arrow.

He doesn’t expect to hit his target.

---

Alternatively: What if Phil didn't have a bucket of water when Tubbo shot him?

Change fate by being aggressively kind by sircantus

T\o\-\13k\sbi, Philza-centric

Summary:

“You do understand that you’re caring for the thing meant to bring destruction and chaos to our world, right?” The woman asks, Phil looking behind him fondly as Techno grabs at the ends of his wings.

“He’s just a child.” Phil answers distractedly, humming as his wings get gently yanked at.

“He’s the first of three to destroy life as we know it! Shouldn’t we, well, get rid of him?!”

“Oh, no.” Phil raises his eyes with a sharp glare. “Believe me, I have my own way of preventing the apocalypse.”

---

Or, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are basically chaotic forces of nature, destined from birth to end the world and bring destruction. Most who hear of the tale of them are trying their best to track them down, and to end the monsters while they’re still young, still just children.

Phil has a different plan.

(In which Phil raises the minecraft equivalents of the anti-christ with love and support, so much so to the point where the world ending is really just a funny thought, and Phil has three kids who casually have powers that are bit more extreme than anything else in the world)

I promised you that everything would be fine by findingkairos

G\c\-\6k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

manifestation: (n.)

1. an event, action, or object that clearly shows or embodies something abstract or theoretical;

2. a version or incarnation of something or someone;

3. an appearance of a ghost or spirit;

4. the Blood God.

When he's young and still alone, still establishing his reputation as the immortal warrior, Technoblade makes up an imaginary friend.

Years later, the blood god is very real and very much a god: one that is prepared to do anything for their first and only friend.

the inner mechanism of a black box by Bee_4

T\c\violence, self-harm\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

Technoblade lets himself get imprisoned for Philza’s sake. He doesn’t plan on being there long. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Pandora’s Vault.

There are things that will make even the Blade fall apart in due time, as it turns out.

carry all my sins by BananasofThorns

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo-centric

Summary:

Ranboo swallows. “All my armor and weapons and stuff are missing. Fundy and I were gonna go looking for them after the festival, I think.”

“I see.” Tubbo smiles again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s just a festival. We could probably find someone to lend you a sword or an axe or something.”

He starts towards the stage, waving at people when they call his name, and Ranboo follows. The original panic has dulled to a cold buzz in his chest, but apprehension still wraps itself around his body like chains. He doesn’t like being without his armor and tools; he feels too exposed, and if something happens, he’ll be helpless.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo calls, glancing back.

Ranboo shakes his head and hurries to catch up. “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Everything’s gonna be fine."

Tubbo grins. “That’s the spirit.”

Rule 5: be loyal. L'manberg doesn't do well with supposed traitors. Ranboo deals with the consequences.

Sojourn by Lacy_Star

T\o\-\13k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

“Well…” Ranboo started slowly, “You see, uh… I kinda… don’t have a house anymore, obviously. Um… Phil found me in—“ He paused, cutting himself off and squinting at the floorboards— very discreet, “Phil… found me. And… um… He said I could stay by you guys. Like, um, by the dog house he wants to build?” He paused, then began to ramble, “But, uh, if you don’t want me here, I understand— and I’m sorry for coming in your house when you weren’t here, I swear I didn’t touch anything— it was just cold outside and—“

Techno just stared at him. And how, how was this the second time this had happened to him? How was this the second time he returned home after battle to discover an injured teenage boy waiting for him, seeking assistance with nowhere to go? And how badly had that ended last time, in nothing but betrayal and insults?

---

AKA: Phil drags a half-enderman home after Doomsday, and Techno decides that they can keep it. For now.

can an axe count as rent? by aboutfivebees

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

Ranboo’s struggling to settle into his new life on the Arctic Anarchist Commune, but at least he’s got bread.

or the struggles of an enderman hybrid to come up with a housewarming gift to give to his friends, who are just trying to adopt him

The Caged Bird Sings of Freedom by StarPrince_Punk

T\o\-\25k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

The Blade's stance was still tense, his body prepared to fight at a moment’s notice if need be. “What’s your name?” Phil asked “My… name?” The Blade asked. “Yeah. Your name isn’t actually The Blade, right? That’s like a stage name?” Phil tried to keep his tone light. “What’s your real name?” The Blade hesitated. “No one… No one’s called me by my name in a long time.” ------- When Phil comes across Ranboo in his panic room after L'Manberg's destruction, it reminds him of when he first met Technoblade. And just like when he met Techno, Phil's first instinct is that he has to help this kid. While living together, Techno and Ranboo learn that they're much more similar than they had previously thought, and Phil learns that it's not too late for him to be a better dad.

This already feels like more of a home by H3118ENDER

T\o\violence, death\18k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

As the ashes of L'Manberg settle the conflict continues to come to life setting the stage for a new wave of blood shed. Stuck slam in the middle of past and present friends Ranboo is coming to learn that even without nations to their names feelings and feuds don't die but people, people do.

A Shadow of a Shadow by unappetizingegg

T\c\-\4k\ Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

There were a few beats of silence, and then- “What are your plans, now? Do you need a place to stay?”

That caught him off guard. Surely he’d heard incorrectly. Phil was offering him a home, right after he’d orchestrated the destruction of his past one? It didn’t make any sense, none of it did. Why would Phil say that?

Then he remembered, he remembered Techno stopping him in the fight. He remembered being handed his book, the question in Techno’s gaze. He swore, in that moment, Technoblade, the Technoblade, had been worried about him. He remembered that he had been told to leave, to run, to get away and preserve himself. He had spared him, he remembered that Techno had spared him.

Techno had helped him. Phil had tried to protect him, to get him away from the danger.

They were there for him.

---

alternatively:

Ranboo is alone. But he really isn't.

Meritocracy by oddsbodkins

G\o\-\18k\Dream & Technoblade, sbi, medieval AU

Summary:

Dream is more successful than he'd ever imagined - but there's one thing that's been bothering him. Technoblade, his biggest rival, the Acolyte of the Blood God and King of the Arena, went missing last spring, just before Dream got the chance to duel him. Without that one achievement to pave his way, all the following victories have felt cheap.

So, Dream hired some goons to dig Technoblade up and pester him into coming back to the Capitol, for one last showdown. Easy enough, right?

Interlude I: "Promises to Keep" by Ozzyyy

T\c\-\1k\part of a series\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

These woods are lovely, dark, and deep But I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep.

Techno has a plan. It's crazy. It's insane, it's actually just batshit bonkers. But if chaos cannot be enjoyed together, then what's it worth, yeah? There's a certain beauty in watching the world burn from the center of the flames. Phil intends to be there.

I Don't Want To Start A Fight (wouldn't you rather start a riot?) by KryOnBlock

T\c\violence, death\15k\Technoblade & Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

An universal ping rang out from behind him, the third and final he knew, and Phil sobbed, clutching the body tighter.

Techno didn’t move.

It always has been Technoblade and Philza, Philza and Technoblade. Take on half, and you shall never go back.

Sheltered by Lulatic

G\c\-\6k\Ranboo & Technoblade

Summary:

It was cold outside. But Techno never heard Ranboo complain.

That was the best excuse he could muster to keep him out.

Antarctic Princes 'verse by BirchWrites

T\o\-\15k\series\sbi

Summary:

Loosely-connected one shots set in an AU where the Antarctic Empire and the Dream SMP are in the same world. Ordered chronologically, but each fic can be read as a standalone thing

Summary of first part:

Oh shit. Forget arrested; Dream’s going to have to tell Wilbur that he watched Tommy get stabbed for being terminally stupid.

May we cross paths again by QueenLunaFreed

G\c\-\1k\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

“Even if tomorrow it’s just us versus the entire server, Dream, I’m telling you right now - I have confidence.”

---

Dream couldn’t comprehend the pacing contradiction in front of him, the weakness he could clearly see, but would never comment on. Because this man has been defying Dream's expectations since they first met, because despite them not being friends and having no reason to trust each other, Dream knew that Technoblade is the only person who he’d trust to do this right. To destroy L'Manberg alongside him yet again, this time for real.

leave me your starlight by findingkairos

T\o\-\18k\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

For you the world, Phil.

Once upon a time, Philza Minecraft is the only person who does not shy away from the bloody teen that regularly turns the tide of war.

This cements a friendship that will last wars, empires, worlds, and lifetimes.

---

(Featuring: Back to Back Badasses, healthy relationships, accidental deification, intentional world domination, and Phil's past coming back to haunt his best friend.)

#fanfic #dsmp #technoblade #philza #ranboo #zablr #fic recs

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hysteriium · 4 years

Note

Ledger!Joker x JP!Joker headcanons 👀 ??

(Edit isn’t mine, made by Anarchy Graphics! They have really cool edits you should check them out!)

(A/n): 👀 HEY THERE DEAR ANON! Your wish is my command ;)) sorry I kinda added some smut hope that’s okie! HEHEH also @pennyship and I are writing a massive fucking one-shot about the duo! We’re thinking of turning this into a series if anyone’s interested?

Pairing: JP! Joker x reader x Heath!Joker

Warnings: NSFW, BDSM themes, swearing.

////

Together

Okay first things first, they will have a hard time ‘sharing’ you. They’re both really assertive characters and their personalities would for sure clash.

They’re very competitive.

What’s probably even weirder is how they resolve their arguments. If you expect them to sit down and shake it out b o i you’re dead wrong.

Honestly, if you catch them in the middle of doing some stupid shit, don’t be surprised.

More often than not, you feel like the mediator between them. You kind of keep them balanced – stop them from going overboard, though admittedly, it’s rare when they reach such a point.

Their unspoken contest keeps them on their toes and that’s just how they like it.

They also really appreciate how you spare them the psychoanalysis – they get enough of it when they’re thrown into Arkham and treated like odd spectacles.

They’re really possessive/protective. If someone even so much as thinks of threatening you, or, even more idiotic, makes it known they ARE, best believe they’re bringing out the big guns. They’ll rain hellfire upon them. This is perhaps the only time where the dynamic duo can work together.

NSFW

A lot of the times they take their frustration out in other activities. If something doesn’t go as ‘planned,’ you’re gonna have a hard time walking tomorrow.

(Coming back to their ‘rivalry’), they’ll leave hickeys on your neck – VISIBLE ONES MIGHT I ADD – just so the other can see. This often leads to more hickeys from the other.

Threesomes. Sorry, not sorry. (Will go into detail in an upcoming fic hehe).

Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker

This. Man. Is. Touch-starved.

You heard me, folks. He loves touching you. This isn’t exclusive to sex either, honestly, he’s happy with even the smallest displays of affection.

He’s also much kinder than Heath’s Joker AND WHAT I MEAN BY THAT is that he’s more open with his affections (see Heath’s section for deetz).

Loves loves loves your smile and your laugh! Every time he snatches a laugh roused by one of his puns or jokes, he’s ecstatic! “You should laugh more,” “you have a pretty smile.” His compliments aren’t always worded the greatest, but you know he means well, his sincerity shining through.

Coupled with the soft smile which almost always follows your joy, it’s enough on its own to convey his thoughts.

The man is incredibly playful and is a relentless flirt. He doesn’t CARE who’s around, he will make it known what nasty things he’s thinking about AND what nasty things he wants to do to you. If it wasn’t for your own protests which are occasionally worn down, he’d take you in front of others. He literally does not care.

Example: when you least expect it, you’ll feel a firm slap against your ass, or sometimes less overt, a grab. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

To reiterate, he absolutely has no shame.

Arthur is big on aftercare. He’ll make sure you know how much he loves you. He gets really attached, and his actions communicate this more than his words. Aftercare manifests itself in many forms: cuddling, bubble baths, making sure he hasn’t harmed you in any way, offering sweets.

Nicknames

“Angel.”

“Darling.”

“Doll.” (Heath’s Joker also uses this).

“Sugar.” He often uses this when he’s mad, for example, “okay, listen, sugar.”

“Sweetheart.”

NSFW

Depending on how Arthur’s feeling, funky time can either be really rough or, if he’s feeling a lil extra sentimental, very you-oriented.

He’s a passionate man and seeing how his touch leads to your unravelling is truly one of the highlights for him.

Above all, Arthur’s favourite thing is hearing the way his name spills from your lips – feeling the way you cling onto him as he plunges into you. Your expression of euphoria’s something that’s etched into his brain, like fine glass.

An added bonus for him is thinking about how antsy your loud moans make Heath’s Joker.

Gunplay → Arthur’s slender fingers indent your thighs as he spreads them apart, a sudden metallic chill brushing up against the flesh. Prodding at your entrance with the barrel and slowly pushing in, his slow teasing thrusts morph into a steady pace when you’re practically pleading him to let you cum.

Orgasm Denial → Arthur, being the mischievous boi he is, will damn well make sure he drags everything out. He loves to hear you beg, every time you do it fills him with swirling bursts of pride.

Body worship → sort of ties in with orgasm denial. Arthur will take his sweet ass time caressing your skin, planting kisses against your stomach – against your hips. Honestly anywhere he has access to he will make it known how much he appreciates your body. This can sometimes appear during sex – he’ll slow his pace and utter sweet whispers of praise against you, rendering you even more of a flustered mess.

Hair pulling → works both ways. This would mainly be exhibited during oral than anything else. If he’s going down on you and your trembling fingers jerk his green curls, the vibrations of his moans would tip you over the edge.

He’s more flexible than Heath’s Joker, meaning if you want to top, he’ll let you do so, though he still maintains a cocky air. Giving you one of his killer smirks, his eyebrows flicking in amusement, he’ll relinquish his hold on your hips and recline back into the couch. The way he leans back and places his hands behind his head screams ‘go ahead,’ ‘impress me.’ You always do.

Heath Ledger’s Joker

Will do shit just to spite Arthur; this isn’t because he has a personal vendetta against him, it’s just because of the person he is (a little shit).

Takes a bit longer to open up than Arthur, emotionally. He’s very closed off and is used to his little bubble. It takes patience but eventually you’ll get there.

Acts like the biggest hardass → he likes to portray there’s nothing more to his image other than the ‘agent of chaos,’ but you come to realise this is definitely not the case.

In the dead of night, when he returns from whatever havoc he’s stirred, he crawls into your bed and pulls you against him, arms embracing you loosely.

This is when he’s at his most affectionate. His exhaustion most likely adds to those falling walls.

Most of the time he thinks you’re asleep when this occurs but, spoiler, you’re not; the gentle upturn of your lips the only indication of such. You don’t think you’d ever give the fact away either, fearful of him receding back into his shell to the point where affection is null. Either way, you’re happy with him.

By the morning, he’s gone, already making plans (or executing them).

He seldom shows you his actual face, behind all the makeup. In all honesty, you don’t know the reasoning behind this, and you don’t think you ever will. While he’s blunt, he’s just as secretive; there’s always something going on in the back of his mind.

Perhaps it’s insecurity, discomfort, or, more simply, the ‘persona’ of ‘Joker’ is just what resonates with him. The man underneath is someone he no longer identifies with. The man he’s become – who he’s worked so hard to manifest – is his true self.

NSFW

Okay but he’s a very sexual guy, not even gonna lie.

ALSO HAS NO EMBARRASSMENT. When it comes to sex, this man’s just as open about it as Arthur.

Hair pulling kink → this goes without saying. Unlike Arthur, this kink is one-sided, and he most definitely is the one doing the pulling. Those large hands will lose themselves within your strands and if you’re giving him head, he’s most likely going to guide you by said strands.

Glove kink → he’ll set you on his lap, your back against his chest as his hands hold your wriggling thighs. With your breath hitching in anticipation, one of his gloved hands will slip down your inner thigh, rubbing slow circles against your clit. He tries his best to be patient but lets be honest, he has a really short fuse when it comes to sex; he’ll be dipping one – two – and if he’s feeling particularly torturous – three fingers inside of you before you know it, curling his fingers.

Praise kink → not particularly what you’d expect. He’s also very big into humiliation and mockery, so this kind of ties in with the two. For example, if you do something he’s pleased with, he’ll throw around teasing/sarcastic nicknames like there’s no tomorrow:

“Bunny.”

“Buttercup.”

“Button.”

“Doll.”

“Good girl.”

“Princess.”

“Pumpkin.”

“Sweetheart.”

Loves your brattiness, literally lives for it. He’s always been drawn to a bit of fire – it keeps things interesting.

Has a thing for emotions – for your expressions, both micro and macro. The main three: fear, pain, pleasure.

He’s very erratic. So, when he is praising you, he may tug at your hair the next, choke you or, if he deems necessary, spank you.

Your squeaks of pain get him off – the motherfucker’s sadistic.

Goes through topdrop, and you’d most certain go through subdrop. He’s so used to control and regaining it when lost, in both an everyday context and a sexual one. So, once those feelings develop into something more (which you’ll have trouble differentiating, or sometimes picking up on at all), he’ll become more reserved, no longer displaying his usual vigour until this issue is sorted. (More details in a future drabble/fic).

#joaquin phoenix joker #joaquin phoenix #joker x reader #joker imagine #joker 2019 #the dark knight #both jokers #jp joker #heath joker #heath ledger #heath ledger joker #heath ledger joker x reader #dc x reader #dc headcanon #Joker headcanons #joker headcannons #arthur fleck #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck x reader

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notcanoncompliant · 5 years

Text

I Never Doubted (pt. 1)

(first Starkercest woo)(it’s not going to be as long as I was thinking, but here’s the first 2,320 words)

I totes wrote this for @silkystark (I hope you like it! <3) and I know I always say I’ll have something done in like a day and then it takes me a week or longer...but I actually do have a part 2 already partially written and I promise (like, full pinky-promise, heart-crossing, needles-in-eyes promise) it will be up by tomorrow evening at the LATEST.

ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS FIRST BIT *hides under a blanket*

@plsstopgivingpetertrauma @tightaroundthewebslinger @readysetstarker @the-amazing-spidertwink @stxrker-fan-xx

******************************************************

When his mom had said "Your father wants to meet you", Peter hadn't really thought much of it.

He used to wonder where his biological father was, what the man might be like, whether this mystery person had ever actually wanted to meet him; but the resentment's mostly buried, now. The guy left before Peter was born, and Peter's mom remarried when he was six. Richard's a good man, a good stepfather (if a little distant); so, it wasn't with the hope of filling some kind of hole that Peter had agreed to the meeting. Now he seriously regrets not pushing his mom for at least a name (while simultaneously being very glad she's left the room). Tony Stark is standing in his living room. Billionaire, tech genius, philanthropist, Tony Stark. The man featured on the cover of every one of the considerable stack of magazines under Peter's bed. "Hi, Peter," Tony says, smiling a little, thought it's nervous and fades quickly. "I'm--" "Tony Stark," Peter interrupts faintly, "Wow, um--you're my--" "Yeah," Tony says. Oh, no. "It's--it's nice to meet you," Peter says, walking up and extending a hand that Tony takes. "You too, kid."

***

An hour later, Peter's back up in his room, flat on his back in bed. His jeans are on the floor, where they ended up when he'd hastily shed them after shutting himself in. He rests a shaking hand just above the line of his boxers, easing his fingers under the elastic waistband and staring up into the dark.

He's going on vacation with Tony Stark in a week. A father-son getaway. Christ. As he slowly, lightly drags his finger tips along the underside of his erection, base to tip and back, Peter lets himself think about the thrill of seeing Tony Stark perched in his favorite worn chair, asking questions and cracking jokes, everything about him confident and relaxed save for his long, thick fingers tapping random, ever-changing beats against the armrest.

Tony'd looked scandalized to hear that Peter'd never been on a real vacation. Whipped out his phone, done some digging, and asked if Peter'd ever been on a cruise. When Peter'd said 'no', he'd arched a brow and asked if he'd like to go on one, smiled when Peter had blushed and stammered out a 'yes, yeah, sure'.

Peter's never been on a cruise. He's never really been out on the ocean.

There are a lot of things Peter's never done.

He stops teasing himself long enough to push his boxers down, licks a moist stripe up his palm before returning his grip to his cock. Thinks about the warmth of Tony's hand, the roughness of the callouses. Would Tony offer to remedy his lack of experience the way he offered the cruise? Smirk the way he did when Peter had accepted, an unmistakable flash across his features, excited to be able to give this to Peter, to do this for him? To give him something he's never had? That's what fathers are supposed to do, right? Provide? Teach? "I’m sure you'll love it." The memory of those words, the warmth, the hint of something Peter could swear he saw in those too familiar dark eyes-- When he cums, he bites down on his other hand to keep Tony's name from spilling out of his mouth.

***

He doesn't tell Ned or MJ. There's no part of that conversation he wants to have, isn't really sure how to say it. It's...too big. They can tell something's happened (because they're his best friends, of course they can), but Peter can be stubborn when he needs to, and he spends every day at school resolutely deflecting every attempt either of them make to get him to talk. His time after school, though, he spends a lot more honestly. Jerking himself off to pictures and fantasies of the tech genius is a habit, an addiction, and not something he's trying all that hard to give up. The shame and the secrecy weave through the heat, give him something fresh to think about...and he does. Tony helps, if unknowingly. The billionaire texts him sporadically in the days leading up to the trip (regular things--questions he hadn't asked when they'd met, photos of things in his lab or the view of the city out the penthouse windows) but he keeps eccentric-genius hours, so sometimes Peter wakes up to messages timestamped at two, three in the morning. He gets himself off, not to the messages themselves, but to the idea that Tony Stark is paying attention to him, going out of his way to know Peter in some way, sending him little pieces of his life so Peter can be a part of it, even if they aren't physically near each other. By the night before the cruise, Peter's given up trying to justify it (there’s really only one flimsy justification, how Tony's never been and never will be his dad beyond the biological sense) and admitted to himself the knowledge isn't (maybe never has been) a deterrent. Just a new scenario, the latest in the endless procession of fantasies Peter's had since he was fourteen years old. He still feels the shame, the heaviness of it, but it thickens the heat instead of detracting from it as he settles back on his bed, naked and teased to full hardness.

When his phone buzzes, his cock jumps in his grip. No one else texts him this late, not on a school night.

>Hey, kid.

Peter bites his lip, stroking himself slowly as he types out a response with one hand.

>hey >why're you still up

>I could ask you the same thing. >I'm probably supposed to. >That's a dad thing, right? "Fuck," Peter gasps, pulling a little faster. >sounds like a dad thing >I'm sensing a 'but'. "How’d you know," Peter mutters into the dark, blushing and biting back a self-deprecating laugh. He turns, stretching to pull open his nightstand drawer, the near-empty bottle of lube calling his name. When he types out the next response, it takes him a little longer; his texting-hand is a little uncoordinated, most of his focus on running the slick fingers of his other over the tight furl between his cheeks. >BUT youre the one texting me at 2 am >You're right. Not a dad thing, is it.

Peter gasps, broken but nearly soundless, as he breaches himself with a finger, pumping a couple times before adding another--almost too quickly, but he wants to feel it right now; needs to. >i dont think youre supposed to ask my opinion on the subject >Your sass is a positive DNA test. >All Stark. A warm of curl of pleasure winds through him. >did you doubt it Peter's honestly not sure what he's asking for, but he needs the answer like he needed the too-soon stretch of that second finger. Wants a manifestation of his fantasy, to hear (see, read, whatever) that Tony hadn't immediately thought of him as his son, that he wants the same things Peter wants-- The response he gets is simple, and so, so loaded. >I never doubted you were mine. It knocks the wind out of him. He drops his phone to grab his cock, cumming in a few quick tugs, biting his lip to stifle a groan that's shaped like Tony's name.

****

Reality's an ugly thing, Peter decides when his mom drops him off at the port. He stands there during the awkward interaction between Tony and his mom, listens to them exchange casual (if slightly stilted) conversation. Tries not to flinch when his mom hugs him and tells him to behave himself... ...and then she's gone, and it's just him and Tony. His father. Fuck. "Alright, kid, let's do this," Tony says with a slightly tight smile. They drop off their bags, go through security and the first class line, making cursory small talk (how Peter's week went at school, and a couple of the questions Tony hadn't asked when they'd met the week before), Peter's anxiety building with each step, each word. (When Tony apologizes for texting him so late, Peter nearly chokes on his own spit. He manages to get out a "Yeah, no, it's fine, I was up, anyway", and isn’t sure if he does or doesn’t want Tony to know what he means.) In a masochistic twist, his brain decides to bring every fantasy-driven orgasm from the last few days to the forefront of his mind. By the time they've reached the door to the suite, he's screaming internally, guilty and hard as a rock in his jeans and praying Tony doesn't notice. He follows Tony through the door, to the inner soundtrack of his own panic. Tony'd be disgusted if he knew--Peter is disgusting, thinking about his father like this, sick for getting off on it-- A quiet curse pulls him out of his head. His frantic apology is on the tip of his tongue--I'm so sorry, Tony, Mr. Stark--and then he sees why Tony cursed. There's one bed. It's huge, but it's still just one. "I'll take the couch," Peter says quickly, because even sort of freaking out, he’s not going to completely throw away the potential opportunity to end up in bed with his number one fantasy. "Yeah, no," Tony says, wandering over to check the dresser drawers, "This is a new experience, kid. Your first time's not going to be on a couch. It's big enough to share." Peter's face heats, gut swooping. "It's--it's fine, really--"

Tony turns to give him a pointed, slightly amused look, and Peter's in hell. "Okay, yeah, that's. Yeah." "Good," Tony says, shooting him a smirk, "Now. I don't know about you, but I've been on a diet of protein bars, Gatorade, and scotch for the last couple days, and I'm ready for some actual food. Buffet or room service?"

****

"Aren't you darling!" They should've gotten room service.

MJ's said, before, that Peter's 'pretty', and Ned...well, Ned usually gives a helpless shrug in agreement. He doesn't hold it against either of them; he's aware of his baby face, knows he looks a little younger than his seventeen years. It usually doesn't cause him any problems or draw much attention, except for some of the 'negative' variety from his shittier classmates.

Everyone in the first-class dining hall, though, seem to think it's the best thing. At least six different people have made some kind of blatant comment over the last two hours, but many more of them are looking. A small, still-amorphous part of him is enjoying the attention, and...he maybe (definitely) likes the idea a little too much, that he's whatever they think he is to Tony, whether they believe they’re related or they’re sure Tony’s paying for his time. It doesn't help that Tony keeps touching him. Nothing explicit; the brush of a hand on his elbow or his shoulder, a palm at the middle of his spine, guiding and reassuring. He's leading Peter around, standing or sitting down, talking with these high-society strangers who keep shooting these looks at Peter, and after a while, all of Peter's energy is devoted to not reacting. Not flinching at every fleeting instance of contact. Not gasping whenever the now-familiar weight of Tony's palm presses at the middle of his back. Not giving any sign of all of it's wearing him down to the quick. "Um, thank you, ma'am," Peter smiles weakly at the white-haired lady, praying she's not about to actually try pinching his burning cheeks. "And so polite, too!" she croons. Peter steels himself, has to fight not to let his eyelids flutter closed when Tony squeezes him where his neck and shoulder meet. A reassuring, paternally-affectionate gesture that shoots straight to Peter's aching cock.

"Careful, I think he might implode. He's not used to the attention," Tony says, and Peter nearly whimpers at the warm, teasing tone. "Well, he better get used to it, an angel-face like that!" They keep talking, but Peter couldn’t say what about. Tony's hand is pleasantly heavy at the juncture of his shoulder, a thumb drawing slow, warm circles against the back of his neck. Peter has one hand under the table, gripping his own thigh for some semblance of control. He's losing it, though, imagining what it would be like cup himself through his pants, to touch himself while Tony touches him like this, easy and familiar. It would be nice, that comfort, that approval, that care-- "--eter, sweetheart." Oh. Peter’s eyes flip open (he hadn't even realized he'd closed them, oh, god) to Tony, gazing at him. He knows. Oh, fuck, he knows. "You're looking a little warm," Tony says, sounding appropriately concerned. "Why don't you say goodbye to Ms. Lancaster and we'll go back so you can lay down?" The woman is clearly eating this up, has noticed none of the tension, none of the heat, as far as Peter can tell when he looks up at her. "Sorry, um--bye, Ms. Lancaster, it was nice to meet you," he manages, and he didn’t know his face could get any warmer. "Nice to meet you, too, dear, both of you," she says, all charmed sympathy, "You just get some rest and try to enjoy the rest of your weekend!" After a last farewell exchange with Tony, she turns to leave. Tony rises from his seat, and Peter freezes. He can't stand up. Tony knows, but he hasn't seen-- That hand returns to his nape, flexing gently, and then Tony's bending down, breath warm at Peter's ear. "Take off your coat, fold it over your arm," Tony murmurs. Peter wordlessly complies, grateful and mortified all at once. He stands, shield in place in front of himself, and studiously avoids looking up at Tony. A hand settles low on his spine as they walk out of the hall, and Peter is so, so wonderfully, terribly fucked.

#starkercest #starker #tony stark x peter parker #nff #starker fanfic #starker fic #you guys i don't know

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