#TheWitchwayWritesStuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thestarkerisobvious · 10 months

Text

Goncharov (Has A Happy Ending)

production

---------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1 - Time And Her Cruel Games

“There’s no happy ending for people like us, Andrey. Only the misfortune of time and her cruel games of fancy.”

Tony’s mouth on his was warm and gentle and amazing, and was quickly driving all thoughts out of his head.

At least, that’s what Peter thought. Up until Tony’s hands began working his ass again.

They had promised themselves they were going to sleep now. At least,

that’s what they had said in the shower. Peter, certainly, was up for a little shut-eye. Even Tony, the notorious insomniac, had admitted he was ready to try.

“And you can’t blame jetlag anymore,” Peter reminded him, and not for the first time. They had been in Naples for two days now. Peter was actually eager to get out and see Naples, but so far they were still holed up at the top of the hotel. No one knew they were in Italy, not yet. Technically they were waiting for Tony to get the word that things were ready in New York. While Spider-Man was getting photographed webbing up bad guys in NYC, THAT was when Tony and Peter would make their appearance.

Ever since word got out that the face of Stark Industries was dating a hot youthful intern, the press had started to make noise about Ironman and Spider-Man. Tony had taken the opportunity to whisk Peter away into hiding, claiming it was all about protecting “Underoos” secret identity. Peter didn’t argue - he wasn’t in the habit of arguing with his older lover - even though he thought his secret identity’s days were numbered. And that was okay with him. Now that he was an official Avenger, and officially Tony’s boyfriend, the whole ‘secret identity’ thing seemed a little childish.

But he said nothing as Tony made his plans. There was a Spider-Man double who was geering up to take the stage - a friendly Avenger had volunteered for the role - now they were just waiting for the go-ahead. Until then, it was their job to hide in the hotel.

At least, that's what they were telling themselves.

Of course… all this laying around naked in each other’s arms all day and catnapping between sex was turning out to be very pleasant… and neither were very eager to give it up.

And it didn’t help that everything they needed was right there on hand. In breaks between love-making Peter lazed about, googling all the landmarks that he wanted to see, and Tony was having all the information on the most famous tourist attractions sent up to the hotel room. He himself had spent many summers there with his “Nonna” and knew a great deal of the country intimately, and was happy to serve as Peter’s tour guide. When the time came.

Of course, that would require putting their clothes on. Which so far they hadn’t really managed to do.

“But mostly I want to see the clocktower, the real one. And the place where you say they actually filmed the scene,” Peter had explained as they worked out their Itinerary with FRIDAY - all a plan for The Day that they wanted to be seen and serendipitously photographed as a couple. “It HAS to be RIGHT by the wall where they shot that scene - the one that everybody recognizes. We’ll have to get pics of us by the actual clocktower, obviously…”

Tony was more than a little surprised that Peter was familiar with the movie at all… let alone such an expert on its shooting history, or the authenticity of the locale. Let alone the accompanied history of Naples, Italy.

“It was an important movie for me… in my formative years…” Peter had said with a shy shrug and a ducked head. That gesture alone told Tony that this was one secret he was going to learn.

It had been last night (or was it the morning before? Time was losing all meaning for them in the hotel suite, and Tony loved it that way) that Peter had finally made his confession.

They were laying skin-to-skin in a tangle of white sheets on the mammoth bed when he began to whisper the story. “Imagine me, at thirteen, recovering from a tonsillectomy, with nothing to watch on tv… we only had cable then and I was too sick to get up and find a DVD… just flipping through channels. It came on. I had no idea what I was looking at… but the remote’s batteries were wearing out and I was too miserable to get up to do anything about it. That’s why I watched it all the way through. I thought it was really boring at first… but then…”

Sometimes he giggled and blushed, sometimes he hid his face in Tony’s neck and begged for a reprieve. He didn’t want to tell this story, which was all the more reason that Tony needed to hear it.

“I thought it was really hot,” Peter finally whispered. ”These men… they were supposed to hate each other but… but that’s not what it looked like to me…

“And I guess…” He faltered again and covered his face with one hand. Even here, laying lip to lip, toe to toe with his lover, he tried to hide.

“I guess that was the day I first started to imagine…” he said, leaning up another two inches to whisper the secret into Tony’s ear. “What those two, handsome men really wanted to do with each other. I didn’t think they really wanted all that violence. I think they just wanted to do this…” He molded his long, lean body against Tony’s, entwining their legs and tightening his arms, trailing kisses down Tony’s bare shoulder.

Tony wanted to know more, of course. Discovering the movie, the moment that had triggered Peter’s sexual awakening felt like a perfect, surprise clue and all he wanted was more. But Peter was too tight-lipped about those earliest fantasies. No amount of teasing, bribing or begging would get Tony any more information. Finally, he gave up.

“And of course we’re in love… that’s why I tried to shoot you…” Tony finally joked.

“If we were really in love you wouldn’t have missed,” Peter quoted back with a grin.

He was rewarded with a kiss. A warm, gentle, amazing kiss that made Peter wonder if he should remind Tony about his promise to try to get some sleep… hard to do when Tony’s free hand working its way around and back into interesting places…

“Again?” Peter thought about saying (although he was certainly up for one more go. They had never done it three times in one night, but there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there?) But instead, when he opened his mouth, he heard the word “Amazing.��

“Hmmm?” Tony asked, pulling up from the kiss just a little. Peter looked up at him in the morning sunlight, a little embarrassed. HE hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

But now Tony was looking down at him with those incredible dark eyes, and he had to speak. “I said… amazing. You’re amazing,” he whispered.

“You’re amazing….”Tony replied, and Peter found himself look up into Tony’s face and seeing something that hadn’t been there before. Something that almost looked like… fear? Doubt?”

“You’re amazing – everything about you is amazing…” the older man was saying now, his voice falling into a whisper. “... and your mind is incredible and your body is… and the things you let me do to you in bed…”

Peter had to look away, blushing a little and hiding in Tony’s chest. “The things you ‘let’ me do to you in bed” was a strange way to put it – as if Peter hadn’t asked for it, as if he wasn’t constantly begging for more…

“But…”

A silence filled the room. Peter blinked up in alarm.

“...but?”

He looked up into Tony’s face just in time to see him reaching up to adjust glasses that weren’t there.

Peter had seen the gesture a million times - Tony’s glasses were the armor he wore when he wasn’t wearing armor. Peter had seen Tony make that move so many times before… but never around him. This was the first, and his eyes widened when he realized Tony was trying to protect himself.

“...but… sometimes… well sometimes you reach down and find the watch in the same place the gun was hidden. Sometimes… dammit kid.” He shrugged, his eyes fell.

He had seen the movie too.

“Sometimes… winter just comes to Naples.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

This is chapter 1 of 3. The whole story will be posted here this month.

story by @thestarkerisobvious

incredible art by @mrstarksbaby

Follow the tag #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series to see what ELSE we’ve got up our sleeve...

#Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Starker #Tony Stark/Peter Parker #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series #Goncharov #ben's moodboards #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #long post

44 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 9 months

Text

I just found out

That THIS series

is marked on Ao3 as NOT complete. I have no idea why.

It IS complete. If, you know, you just wanted to read about Princess Peter and how his “Wicked” Stepmother Nat managed to score him the ridiculously wealthy Handsome Prince Tony...

#Starker #Princess Peter #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series #ben's moodboards #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #with a side order of #tender loving #Spiderio

29 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 10 months

Text

We’re All Mad Here

production.

Chapter 1 Is Here

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“‘A frumious band of raths,’ how delightful.”

The voice was calm. Low. Sincere. But it took Prince Peter by surprise. He had finally found a rose-garden where no flowers remained awake. The smell of the newly-painted flowers was not pleasant, but at least it was quiet. So he had returned to reading his failed poem out loud in the silence.

But, it seemed, he had a human audience.

“Of course… a rath could be frumious, I suppose. If they were to be defending their territory… I have read that they are territorial. At home. Presuming they can ever find their home. I’ve only ever seen them lost I’m afraid…”

Peter

looked up at the handsome stranger and gaped. The man had appeared out of nowhere… but he clearly wasn’t a gardener. In fact, he appeared to be…

“Are you… are you the…?” the gaping Peter asked.

It would be frightfully bad manners to say it. But this handsome man was a stranger, and Peter knew everyone in his father’s castle. He made it his business to know it. He was going to be a knight someday, and he was determined to practice his knightley manners on everyone. (He hadn’t started yet. He preferred to remain silent for now. But he was practicing in his head.)

But this striking man was unknown to him. And there was only one new arrival at his father’s castle, and that was…

“The hatter?” the man replied, looking up at the black silk sitting on top of his head. It seemed to amuse him. “Why, yes, I suppose I am…”

The man was stunning. At least, Peter was certainly stunned. He had dark, captivating eyes, and Peter was most certainly captivated. His heart pounded as the handsome man drew nearer.

“...and perchance a bit of a poet myself, and I must say I did enjoy your verses…” The man continued to speak easily as he drew nearer to the prince. As if he could not hear the pounding of Peter’s heart in his ears, as if he could not feel the heat that was now coloring Peter’s face.

“...and I do think it fitting. Uffish, but fitting. For someone should mourn them. The monsters that never grew to be frumious. The terrors that never grew to be terrible at all.”

Stunning, just how handsome the strange man was. Peter’s heart continued to pound. Still, he tried to be polite when he spoke. Proper manners should always come first (he WAS going to be a knight some day!!) He knew whatever came out of his mouth had to be very proper.

“But… if you are a hatter… doesn’t that mean you are mad?”

Wait - that didn’t sound proper at all.

But the handsome man wasn’t offended. In fact, he only seemed amused. He threw back his head and laughed and, in relief, Peter found himself laughing with him. And then they were both laughing - as if it were the most natural thing in the whole world… just as natural as shaking a stranger’s hand and then finding yourself in a frenetic dance. Two men, both currently mourning the death of jabberwocks, suddenly laughing.

A sound from the other side of the gate startled them. Peter gasped as if he had been caught… but caught doing what? He couldn’t say, exactly. He had only been laughing with his father’s hatter in a garden… yet he found himself looking for an escape, as skittish as a wary tove on the edge of a hunter’s net. He looked above him at the rose trees frantically. The paint was still drying, but were they all painted? Was there still work for the gardeners to do?

The hatter reached out with one black-gloved hand and, taking Peter by the elbow, nodded toward an open gate at the bottom of the garden. Silently, Peter followed him. Swiftly, quietly, they fled the garden and slipped into the hedge maze beyond it.

It never occurred to Peter to question why they moved so quickly, or where they were going. He only knew that when that man touched his elbow with that black gloved hand? He would have followed that stranger anywhere...

----------------------------------------------

Amazing art by @mrstarksbaby

Chapter 3 to be posted this week!

Follow the tag #MrStarksBabyIsObvious series to keep up on ALL our current projects.

#MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series #ben's moodboards #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #tony stark/peter parker/bucky barnes

36 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 10 months

Text

Rainy Day Fireworks

production.

-----------------------------------

Peter knew he was dreaming because they weren’t in the city. They were at some county fair somewhere. Peter was sitting with the rest of them, a little higher on the hill in a dry place, watching the fairgoers run for cover as the misting rain became a steady drizzle. He seemed to be under a tent of some kind… he was cold, but didn’t seem to be getting wet anyway… but enjoyed the peaceful scene of the lovely cool day through the mist of hazy rain. Sometimes he looked up at the fireworks in the sky (an odd choice, given that it was daytime, and raining) and sometimes at the rotating buildings at the base of the hill below him.

There was nothing else to see from this standpoint, but he didn’t want to move, not at all.

Because he was sharing his seat with one Tony Stark, who was sitting quite

close to him. So close that Peter could feel Tony’s beard scraping his cheek.

The longer they sat that way, the harder things became.

The harder it became for Peter to believe it… why was Tony paying so much attention to him? He was just a kid (okay, a young adult) and Tony could have anybody. Peter was barely even an Avenger… and Tony could have any Avenger. There were certainly rumors about him and Captain America (although the rumors were that hate-fucking was involved) but Tony wasn’t sitting next to Steve, thigh to thigh, cheek to cheek.

That’s why it was so hard for Peter to sit still. He kept moving his thigh just a little, pressing it even closer to Tony’s leg. And every time Tony pressed closer - his face was completely pressed against Peter’s face now, so much that Peter could feel his jaw move as he spoke. He was speaking about normal tech-stuff, but his voice was low and conspiratorial, almost secretive. Peter had no idea what the others around him must have thought they were conspiring about… or if they had an opinion about Tony snuggling up next to him at all.

Peter tried to listen to what Tony was saying, to follow enough to keep up his side of the conversation. But all he could think about was Bruce Banner, and how easy and relaxed Tony always was with that man (and why shouldn’t they be? Easy and relaxed? It made sense. Bruce was brilliant.) Rumor had it they were sleeping together, at least in a friends-with-benefits style. Of course rumor also had it they had a bar somewhere on some island that they had built by hand - you couldn’t believe every rumor you heard.

And Steve… there were rumors about Tony and Steve, rumors that Peter tried hard not to listen to (and spent many a night trying not to think about.) Rumors about hatefucking and lover’s quarrels and, worst of all, who would obviously be topping and who would obviously be…

And then there was the wizard… dear god how did Peter manage to forget about the wizard? Those were the strangest rumors of all (no pun intended.) Two devilish, devastatingly handsome men, both bearded, both arrogant as fuck, and both intelligent enough to almost justify their egos. Both brought low by devastating physical injuries that changed the trajectories of their life.

Both tops.

Obviously.

And there would be rumors about this, there had to be. Tony was sitting right next to him right here, right in the middle of this fair, this rainy-fireworks rotating-building fair. Sitting side by side. Knee to knee. Cheek to cheek. Tony was asking him something now, and waiting for an answer, but Peter couldn’t quite remember what the question had been. His brain had been so busy trying to puzzle out the top/bottom puzzle he had almost imagined that this was the question Tony had posed. But Tony couldn’t have asked that question, and Peter couldn’t imagine what the actual question had been. He turned to Tony to ask…

…but that just moved their mouths closer together. Which meant that Tony’s mouth was now so close to his that he could taste Tony’s breath. And Tony wasn’t pulling away. Tony’s mouth, slightly open, so deliciously close, wasn’t moving away at all.

Peter woke up.

* * *

He blinked in some confusion at the ceiling above him that wasn’t his dorm room ceiling… but of course. That was Tony’s ceiling. He had slept over at the penthouse again because… what had been the excuse this time? Oh yeah - the air conditioning in the dorms had gone out. Maybe. He had heard and had believed without really going back to check or texting anyone to confirm. So here he was, sleeping over at Tony’s once again, enjoying his excellent air conditioning and the last time he could use that lame excuse. He would have to start working on another one soon.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would stop all this ridiculous pining and tagging along and mooning over a man who would obviously never look at him twice. Would never have a reason to look at him twice. Surrounded by Amazing Incredible Impossible Avengers, by First Tier Avengers, Peter was barely even noticeable. Heroes like Tony and Bruce and Captain America - those were the Title Characters of movies. Movies? More like the Title Characters of trilogies. He barely rated Spunky Sidekick that the hero picked up in the second movie… hell was he even that?? He might just be the comic relief.

He climbed out of the giant bed in the guest bedroom and headed to the bathroom. Then he spent a little time pacing the floor, talking to himself. Spent a bit looking through a curtain down at the magnificent penthouse view. Wondering, as he always did, who else had enjoyed this view on a night just like this. Did Bruce find it peaceful, or stress-inducing? Did Dr. Strange, a lifetime New Yorker, even notice it at all? Did Steve Rogers ever look down on it in the nude, or was he always decently clad in pajamas instead?

Finally, Peter gave up. He was done moping. He was done mooning. Done being pathetic. This was the last night, he promised himself, that he wasted dreaming of Tony Stark.

Like rainy-day fireworks, some things just didn’t make sense.

* * *

Tony, asleep in his lab, awoke when FRIDAY informed him of Peter’s movements. Through a subtly placed security camera Tony watched Peter walk into the bathroom. Pace the floor. Gaze out the window. The boy seemed to be talking to himself, seemed to be worried about something. Maybe wondering why the broken old man had talked him into sleeping over one more night. Peter was probably getting tired of Tony’s constant requests - seeing through the flimsy excuses. Make-believe repairs to the suit over minor issues, possible-maybe hairbrained ideas of improvements to his suits that he just had to have Peter advise on because that made so much sense. Peter usually slept the sleep of the innocent when he stayed at the penthouse. Tony knew. Tony knew everything.

But not tonight. Maybe his hero was finally wising up to Tony’s endless neediness.

And that was probably best.

Finally Peter lay back down in his bed, and Tony lay his head back down on the lab table.

He didn’t sleep in his own bed, not on nights when Peter stayed.

He didn’t dare.

Because when Tony Stark lay down in his own bed? He only dreamt of one thing. And that was one thing he couldn’t have.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

story by @thestarkerisobvious

incredible art by @mrstarksbaby

Follow the tag #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series to see what ELSE we’ve got up our sleeve...

#MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series #Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Tony Stark/Peter Parker #TheWitchwayWritesStuff

50 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 9 months

Text

So Tumblr Is Being Awful To You

@mrstarksbaby and I understand COMPLETELY. Here is something to cheer you up:

The Familiar A Peter Parker/Tony Stark romance.

With a little Bucky Barnes thrown in just for fun.

This is a

production. Follow the MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series to see what ELSE we have up our sleeve.

#MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series #Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #ben's moodboards #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #Peter Parker/Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes

24 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 10 months

Text

We’re All Mad Here

production.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapater 1 - Passionflowers

“A rotting flock of Jabberwock

Lie in the Tumtum-wooded wabe…

Manxium, but dead,

And in their stead

A frumious band of raths do play…”

“Why would a wabe be IN the tumtum woods?” one quarrelsome passionflower argued.

“The wabe isn’t IN the wood, the wabe is MADE of tumtum wood… at least… the sundial itself is made of tumtum wood, I mean…”

“Why would anyone have a sundial made of wood?” the flower continued to argue. “A wooden sundial would warp, and then the time wouldn’t be right…”

Prince Peter rolled his eyes at that (he had grown up in a castle where no sundial ever told the right time, and all the pocketwatches were two days slow) but he remained silent.

He often remained silent.

It wasn’t just that he didn’t like arguing with passionflowers (they tended to lose their tempers too easily.) It’s just that Prince Peter was often silent.

Once more he found himself longing for the days when the flowerbeds were all very soft, and the flowers slept by day. He didn’t want any flowers, or any talking thing, to ask him questions about his poem just now. Yet, he had sat in the garden to write his poem.

But where else did a knight write a poem but in a garden??

It was when the violets began offering opinions about tumtum wood and what uses it might or might not have that Peter took his pen and ink and fled. There was no use. He might as well head for the library… at least, there, he could find better words for his poem.

“Manxium” was a good-enough word, but it wasn’t a GOOD word. It couldn’t quite catch the tone he was looking for… the feeling he was trying to invoke.

The feeling that filled him from head to toe when, sitting in his father’s throne room, he had heard news that the last known flock of jabberwock had been defeated. Defeated? They hadn’t been defeated exactly, but they had been slain. They were all dead. That there was nothing left, anywhere, to battle.

“Manxium, but dead.” The phrase echoed in his head throughout the feast. Through the rest of the night. Terrible, but dead. All the jabberwock in the kingdom were gone.

Prince Peter would never, ever go out to kill one himself.

They weren’t even large jabberwock… they had been… chicks? Fledglings? He didn’t even know… he had never been taught the word for baby jabberwocks. And even if they had grown to adulthood, they would still never grow to stand any taller than a man’s waist. Not unusual in this part of the world. Still, even small jabberwocks could be dangerous - if they were very bold. And very hungry. (And they took you by surprise. And you hadn’t a good sturdy dog around, and you weren’t on horseback, or wearing any armor.) That’s why Peter, in his poem, had laid their dead bodies in a wabe. To express his unhappiness…. his heartbreak… that the last of the jabberwock in his father’s kingdom didn’t even have the decency to make good corpses.

They weren’t even killed by knights… that was the worst of it! Peter’s face hardened as he walked along the old stone wall, his mouth twisting bitterly, his heart breaking all over again. They had been killed by gardeners… at the request of the old froggy gatekeeper. Peter could almost hear his croaky, querulous voice now - ordering boys no older than Peter to go take care of the creatures as if they were nothing more than pesky borogoves, or very noisy raths…

It just wasn’t fair.

Peter was a prince. He had been trained in all the princely virtues. He could become a knight just by the asking, but insisted on training in all knightly tasks right beside the squires and pages in his castle. He was an excellent horseman, and could swim in a placid pool or a freezing river. He knew all the courtly dances in his fathers court and could recite ridiculously long verses by heart. He could read his way through any laborious tome, with or without a mirror to consult. He was an excellent swordsman and his armor (if he EVER got to wear it!) shone like sunlight.

But he would never slay a jabberwock. He would never even face one. The last of them had been killed by gardeners - they hadn’t even used shovels or rakes… they had just used ladders and paint buckets.

AND NO ONE UNDERSTOOD!. That was what was driving Peter to distraction. If he dared mention it to his father he would get no sympathy. “But there are still Jubjub birds!” his father would assure him. “But there are still Boojums!” “Haven’t you read the Epic of the Snark?”

And he had.

And there were.

But it would never be the same.

So here he was. Fleeing from the garden of rude flowers, fleeing from his terrible verses.

And that’s when he met the madman.

-----------------------------------------------------------

This is chapter 1 of 4. This completed story will be posted here this month.

story by @thestarkerisobvious

incredible art by @mrstarksbaby

Follow the tag #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series to see what ELSE we’ve got up our sleeve...

#Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Tony Stark/Peter Parker #ben's moodboards #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series #TheWitchwayWritesStuff

20 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 10 months

Text

Announcing

the

series!!

FEAST YOUR EYES upon the marvelous moodboards of @mrstarksbaby !

READ AND REREAD the curious and contemplative stories of @thestarkerisobvious!

MARVEL at just how MANY wip’s they (and by they I mean me) have been hoarding all year, just waiting for summer to begin!

AND THEN SIT BACK AND ENJOY THE STARKER!!!

#Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Tony Stark/Peter Parker #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series

21 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 2 years

Text

Nightmares

incredible art provided by @starker-sorbet

Anthony was a king like no other. Far from shunning the wizardry and alchemy he had been told to fear, King Anthony brought men of sortilege and sciences into his capitol city. There their thaumaturgy (alongside his own invention) had created armor for his armies that had created peace in his land, such as not had been known since before his father’s time. They called him the Man of Iron (although his knights were clad in metallurgy stronger than iron) and praised his name throughout his kingdom.

He had achieved peace in his time. But at what price? Rather than accept armistice and ataraxia the neighboring kings attempted to develop greater sorceries, greater theurgies. If Anthony’s kingdom had greater armor, they would simply create greater arms.

Those wars were in the future, Anthony’s spies told him. Maybe in years, maybe in lifetimes, no one knew. No one could match the mind of King Anthony and his heroic, avenging stranglings.

There was time to prepare.

But, in the mean time, the King could not sleep.

After he had consulted every hermetic, monastic and conjurer, he finally swallowed his pride. He set out for the far forest.

He went to ask the witch.

* * *

“I’ll take your nightmares” the impudent upstart teased coyly. He was disrespectful. Supercilious. Infuriating.

“...and in exchange, you can take mine. My old coven always said, ‘The young fear what they do not know, the old fear what they know too well.’ Mayhap what frightens you will not frighten me, perchance you will think what disturbs me to be merely foolishness.”

They argued and quarreled and squabbled and bickered and snarked until finally Tony conceded and agreed to share the witches bed.

Did he KNOW they would spend hours and hours (and hours!) in bed together without any sleep? Oh yes, he knew. But he had caught a look at the long, lean line of Peter’s body hidden underneath that billowing cloak and had made a decision. After all, what did he have to lose?

As the sun rose in the east, he despaired. “So, if you cannot, is there ANYONE who can rid me of my nightmares?”

“I will take your nightmares, just as I said,” the spent witch whispered as he snuggled into Tony’s embrace, letting his eyes drift closed. “I will take them, and I will give you mine. And I will find out what frightens the Man of Iron. And you will learn what terrifies the Evil Witch.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

This story was inspired by the MULTIPLE dark moodboards of @starker-sorbet

which is why I am THRILLED that they made this one specifically for me.

If you are NOT following @starker-sorbet you are missing incredible (and almost daily) Starker art.

#Starker #Ironspider #PeterxTony #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Witch!Peter #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #TheWticheway writes stuff

111 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 9 months

Text

Your Turn

Wow - MOST of my fic falls under this category - okay here.

All Right - in which Tony uses sex to comfort Peter in a very low moment.

#Starker #TheWitchwayWritesStuff

12 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 2 years

Text

Daddy Tony Princess Peter

a one-shot

for @cutepandaprincess

she knows why

-----------------------------

“But you PROMISED, Daddy!”

“I’m SO sorry baby…”

And he WAS sorry. Horribly sorry. Dammit he had promised himself he would do better at this. Had promised tjat over and over. Had promised a lot. And here, already, he was screwing up.

“You SAID you would stop working! That you had worked all night and you were ready to stop!”

“I said that baby… and I meant it… I just had one more thing… and then that one more thing was done and then I looked up and an hour had passed… I’m so sorry precious baby….”

“You SAID you we were going to play our special game tonight!”

“Oh baby, please. Please let Daddy make it up to you. I want to play the special game, baby, I do. Please?

“Tell me what Daddy can to do make it better…”

#Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Tony Stark/Peter Parker #Peter x Tony #PeterxTony #TheWitchwayWritesStuff

71 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 2 years

Text

Waking

rated NC-17

He awoke from his dream. Tore himself out of it. Torn himself from it’s eager clutches and sat bolt upright saying “No. Nononono no no. No. No.”

Then he colapsed back onto the sheets with a moan.

But he did not close his eyes.

Because he was NOT DREAMING ABOUT THAT KID.

Not that kid.

NOT that kid, that barely-21-year-old upstart newly-made Avenger kid that walked around his penthouse like he ruled the world...

Not that kid that took all Tony’s harassment-level flirting at face value and kissed him rigth on the mouth the moment all the other Avengers had left...

Not that kid.

Not that kid that he had rejected, most gently and tenderly (and thoroughly!!) and then thrown out of his penthouse (okay not litterally - but practically - he made Spiderman leave through the window) the night before.

He did not just wake up from that kind of dream.

A dream of looking down at that gloriously naked boy and crooning “Daddy’s going to spoil you baby... oh Daddy’s going to ruin you for anyone else...”

And he most certainly did NOT say those words while spreading those gorgeous long legs, watching them open for him so willingly, then wrapping those long legs around his waist as he scooted himself into possition, his cock hard and ready and leaking, deftly working slick fingers into the boy’s tight body... the boy laying on his back, moaning and panting, Tony kneeling before him, almost trembling with the effort, waiting... waiting for permission to...

This wasn’t happening.

Sleep had abandoned him, so Tony Stark went straight for the liquor cabinet . His morning drinking was going to start early. So be it. It didn’t matter now, anyway.

It would never happen.

He had just broken the kid’s heart last night.

He had just thrown the kid out last night.

Had insisted that he... Tony Stark... the Very Responsible Adult... he had insisted that he wasn’t interested. Simply. Wasn’t. Interested.

And it was too late to take that back now.

Of course...

...of course...

.......of course the kid had left looking skeptical...

#Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #TheWticheway writes stuff #Trigger Warning: use of the word 'daddy''

98 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 9 months

Text

The Face In The Window

You want to read a scary romance where Tony and Peter are a couple who buy a haunted house and inherit a spirit that looks like Bucky Barnes, don’t you?

OF COURSE YOU DO.

If you EVER thought of Peter Parker as an all-out monsterfucker, well, you REALLY want to read this story.

Don’t let the multiple chapters fool you, it’s less than 10,000 words. An idea I had last October that I FINALLY finished this summer.

AND THE MOODBOARDS ARE TO DIE FOR. Really, these are some of @mrstarksbaby‘s best.

The Familiar - A WinterIronSpider story.

Now Complete on Ao3

This is a

production. Follow #MrStarksBabyIsObvious series to see what OTHER WIPS we’ve been sitting on all year.

#Starker #winterironspider #Winter Ironspider #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series #ben's moodboards #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #Peter Parker/Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes

19 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 10 months

Text

We’re All Mad Here

production.

Anthony was not an actual hatter by trade, but an inventor of sorts, but because his most recent invention was a new method of making hats, and the hats had become most fashionable, he was currently in court by royal invitation for that purpose. He spoke of other inventions he had been planning, and what funds he would need to proceed. Peter hung on his every word, all the time wondering… how long will this madman stay?

Finished! Read ALL of it on Ao3!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

NOW ON Ao3

A MRSTARKSBABYISOBVIOUS production.

Follow the #MrStarksBabyIsObvious tag to see what ELSE we’ve been up to.

#Starker #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series #ben's moodboards #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Tony Stark/Peter Parker

14 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 1 year

Text

Demon Lover

The year is 1989. Peter Paker is LOVING the college experience. The boys. The huge libraries. The boys. The compelte freedom. The boys.

But there’s a problem. There is an old... friend... of Peter’s who might have been feeling a little jealous lately...

-------------------------

Demon Lover

Rated NC17

It was moments like these that College Student Peter Parker was so grateful he didn’t have a dormmate.

And only partially because that meant he didn’t have a bunkbed.

Because if he DID… well… that meant he’d be having to take it doggy-style on the floor… a thought that made Peter smile to himself.

“What’s so funny?” the jock grumbled, pulling away (again?!) and Peter looked back over his shoulder with a sweet, winning smile. His hook-up, who had been all swagger and bold talk at the frat party, was suddenly nervous. Possibly because Peter’s ancient dormhall creaked and groaned in a way that seemed particularly menacing tonight. Mr. Jock had even mentioned the rumor that this particular hall was haunted, but Peter had dismissed that with a mention of the age of the building (and a very quick shedding of clothing.)

“Just so glad you’re here, handsome,” Peter said gently, pushing his ass backward toward Mr Jock (who’s name might have been Hugh?)

“Now how about getting back to work?” he added coyly, and Mr. Jock seemed to take the hint. As he groaned in pleasure, Peter smiled all the more. He was getting better at this.

His first few college hookups had been marred by his awkward shyness, and even by his all-consuming need to please. This led to weekends spent with equally shy, equally awkward lovers who, while educational, simply didn’t satisfy. (Plus they always wanted to hang out afterward, for deep & meaningful talks about sexuality or possible relationship-building activities or at least repeat-hookups. Peter was interested in neither. Peter was interested in experience.)

And experience was the best teacher.

Just like tonight. He had developed a sweet-but-frank persona, a way of talking to his nightly conquests, both the kind-of-nervous and of-course-I’m-not-nervous types, that both put them at ease and kept things moving at the pace he enjoyed. The persona was one-part authentic and two-parts act, but it seemed to work most of the time.

And it seemed to be working now.

“God you’re a horny little piece of ass,” Mr. Jock jested, grabbing Peter’s narrow waist with two huge hands, his fingers digging to Peter’s white flesh hard enough to leave bruises on a normal person. Peter shivered at the thrill and spread his legs even wider, dropping his head and arching his back, moaning in need. He didn’t care if Mr. Jock made fun of him for it now (or talked about him later.) He was too hungry to care. He whimpered involuntarily at the first sweet burn of penetration.

And then yelped involuntarily and bowed his back. Damn this boy had no finesse.

“Okay, okay, let’s try that again…” Peter said quickly, breathlessly, trying to smile and soothe and readjust and keep their two bodies connected all at the same time.

A task that was not made easier when his framed Valedictorian certificate, and his framed Science Fair medal of honor and his framed acceptance letter all slipped off the wall simultaneously and went crashing to the floor.

“Nonono its fine, don’t worry about that…” Peter gasped, reaching behind him to take Mr. Jock’s hand, probably too tightly (dammit it was so hard to do this and remember his super-strength at the same time!) “Damn thumbtacks never work, just do it like this,” he breathed, shamelessly moving his hips and his ass backward, trying to show this dumb ox how Peter wanted him to use his dick. Fortunately, even this dumb ox had a sense of rhythm. Moving with Peter he seemed to get the rhythm right (even if he couldn’t get the angle right to save his life. Maybe math nerds would be better at this, Peter mused.)

It worked. Maybe-Hugh grabbed Peter’s hips again in that bruising grip and started thrusting mercilessly and Peter stopped thinking altogether.

For just a few moments, it was perfect. Those demanding hands. That demanding cock. Feeling full and controlled and taken.

He was far stronger than Mr. Jock, of course. As huge and broad-shouldered as Maybe-Hugh was, Peter could have pinned him down with one hand. And that just made it better, somehow. Being powerful and willingly handing that power over, completely, to another man.

Of course, that other ‘man’ didn’t know how strong Peter was. Hell, that other ‘man’ probably didn’t know Peter’s name.Peter distracted himself by sneaking a peek back at the powerful body behind him, all broad shoulders and smooth muscles and sweat. Tonight’s conquest was huge and beefy and rough… also pretty dense, but Peter had learned not to be picky about hookups. Especially ones that smelled as manly, as salty as this one.

And god just the sight of those sweating, straining muscles was turning him on beyond measure. If only Mr. Jock would lean over his back just enough for Peter to feel the drops falling onto his back… but changing their position only a tiny bit might end the perfect rhythm of thrusting and Peter wasn’t about to risk it.)

Peter closed his eyes and opened up his senses. Not the enhanced kind that let him know what people were eating in the dorm rooms down the hall (GOD he was so glad the rooms right next to him were empty. It was hard to be quiet when you were getting a good fucking) but brought all the sensory input from this single room in to super-sharp focus.

The scent of sex and salt and urgency filled his nostrils and his brain and made him so very, very glad he had gone through all the trouble of convincing Mr. Jock back to his room. And the body heat… even though it was only the boy’s legs pressing against the backs of Peter’s legs… it was like being burned by an oven. Once again Peter grinned with gratitude, this time about the excellent thermostat that controlled the temperature in his room. Keeping it just a hair above comfortable (and then swearing it was broken and there was nothing he could do about it) made sure that his partners sweat, and right now his current partner was sweating beautifully. It filled the room with the heady, sweet perfume that made Peter’s head swim. If only it were possible to get pounded from behind AND keep his mouth attached to that warm, moist skin… maybe Mr. Jock wouldn’t mind a few tender, lingering kisses against his neck or chest after the sex was over. Not every lover did.

Peter loved the taste of human male skin, but if he couldn’t get a taste, he would certainly enjoy the aroma. He arched his neck, raising his head, breathing in the moment, letting his senses record everything. The beautiful scent of two human bodies working together, the constant, steady vibration of the bed moving against the wall, the throaty moans of the boy behind him…

“Gonna’ fuck you to death… I’m gonna leave that hole busted open from my dick…”

Peter ducked his head quickly before Maybe-Hugh could see him roll his eyes.

Sometimes he wished he could turn his hearing off completely.

But now Maybe-Hugh was whimpering with a high-pitched, needy urgency that told Peter his perfect moment might already be over. He turned his head to say something… maybe not something completely people-pleasing, maybe to actually speak up and ask for Maybe-Hugh to slow down a bit, to try to draw out the moment, even for a few seconds longer…

…then Maybe-Hugh reached out and grabbed Peter by the left arm and yanked it backward.

This sent Peter sprawling face-first into his own bed. Which was not a bad sensation by itself, but sent Peter’s ass into a right-facing slant which meant Maybe-Hugh’s dick went in at a painful angle.

Peter yelped.

Then the lamp at the night table flung itself into the air and across the bed, clipping the other boy across the face.

Maybe-Hugh screamed.

-----------------------------

“It’s okayit’sokayit’sokay it’s nothing!!” Peter pleaded, reaching out as Mr. Jock jumped up from the bed, looking frantically around for his attacker. “You just knocked the lamp over, it’s okay…

“It’s okay!” Peter said louder, not the other boy but to the room in general.

“What the fucking fuck was that?!” Mr. Jock finally managed, not even noticing Peter’s hands on his, trying to pull him back onto the bed.

“You just knocked the lamp off the night table… it’s not expensive it’s just from the goodwill store…”

“It went flying across the fucking room!”

“Well you were being really vigorous dude…” Peter smiled, or at least tried to, fighting to find that tone again, the tone that would make his partners relax… to keep them in the mood… or at the very least, keep them in the room.

“You were amazing… and pulling me face-down on the bed was hot… you just gotta keep it at a 180 degree angle and…”

“What the fuck is wrong with your dormroom, man?!?!”

“Oh come on, baby, you were so close!” Peter begged, trying to smile and look soothing, all at the same time. Come on…”

He moved up to his knees and risked flinging his arms around Mr. Jock’s neck, letting his hands dangle behind the large, square head delicately. “I promised you my ass was tight, and wasn’t it? You were so close… come on baby… just because you broke my lamp doesn’t mean we have to stop…”

“Dammit they told me not to go with you, they told me this damn place was haunted…”

“My dorm room is not haunted!”

Mr. Jock looked down at him, surprised. But people always looked surprised when Peter raised his voice. He had quite an unexpected tone when he was trying to keep things under control.

Peter wasn’t sure if there was any point in trying anymore, but still, he tried. Mostly because they had only been at it for about seven minutes, and it had taken twice that long just to talk Mr. Jock into wearing the damn condom. For an city boy, Mr. Jock sure hadn’t been too informed about safe sex.

“Hey… come on… are you really going to let some stupid, inane Tri-Delt ghost story keep you from getting laid? Seriously?” He joked, softening his tone the tiniest bit, but not letting go of his lover’s hands, still pulling him back onto the bed.

“Now get back over here and get back to it!” he said, semi-playfully. It seemed to work… they were moving back onto the bed in any case. Mr. Jock’s eyes were wide, but he seemed to be obedient. Especially when Peter turned his back and pressed it against that hard, muscular (sweaty!) chest, hooking one arm behind them both and combing his fingers through his lover’s sweat-soaked hair.

“You just broke my lamp,” he teased, grinding his body against his lover’s suggestively. “The least you can do is finish what you started…”

“You spooky little shit,” came the growl from behind him. “I’m going to fuck that candy-ass until your knees bleed…”

The lamp exploded.

----------------------------------

Peter continued to argue. He might have pulled it off - in addition to super-strength and extra-sensitive hearing he also had a an uncanny gift of persuasion. He might have even convinced the panicked boy for a few minutes longer - yes, said boy’s discarded shirt currently flying around the room but Peter had managed to keep his arms around Hugh’s neck and thus his face pointed it the opposite direction.

But then Hugh caught a glimpse of the aerial laundry show in the mirror and it didn’t matter.

Then the heavy rotary phone on the other night table began ringing and Peter gave up.

It wasn’t a normal telephone ring, because of course it wasn’t. It was a long, terrifying continuous wail, loud enough to drown out the stammering and swearing as Maybe-Hugh frantically yanked on his pants and attempted to retrieve enough of his clothing to escape. “At least you’re not trying to yank the cord out of the wall,” Peter muttered, mostly to himself, as he sat, defeated on the bed. The last lover who had done that in an attempt to make the phone stop making the ungodly noise had just found that it made the phone ring louder than ever…

…which, come to think of it, was probably how Peter got the reputation of living in a “haunted dorm hall.”

“You forgot your shirt!” he called out half-heartedly as his panicked hook-up ran out the door, slamming it behind him. Not that it mattered. Apparently Maybe-Hugh had decided that pants and shoes were enough to make his escape.

Peter signed heavily. He waited.

Finally, the phone stopped its clamor.

Finally, the windows stopped rattling as the walls ceased to vibrate. One by one, the floating laundry dropped, item by item to the floor.

They even piled themselves right next to the hamper.

Still Peter didn’t speak.

The thrift-store lamp meekly lifted itself up from the floor and floated, humbly, back to its original position. Peter leaned over to one side to let it pass. It was still hopelessly broken, but he said nothing.

It wasn’t the first broken lamp he had to deal with. That’s why he got them from goodwill in the first place.

He sat with his mouth closed for some time. Forehead creased. Considering carefully. The silence filled the small dorm room.

Finally, he spoke.

“Tony, we have to talk.”

#Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #PeterxTony #Peter x Tony #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #Demon Lover

38 notes · View notes