#GIVE ME THE CHANCE AND I'D LICK YOU UP I WON'T LEAVE A SINGLE DROP BEHIND O-OF THE LOLIPOP OF OFC NOT TO SAY I WOULDN'T DO THE SAME IF IT

[oceans-beloved]

Meme dump yayyy🥳✨️

(off to make more now muhahaha >:3)

[formula1fanfiction]

Lando Norris / Oscar Piastri

Title: cold to the bone

Pairing: Lando Norris / Oscar Piastri

Characters: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri

Prompt: Norris–Piastri, they took ice bath together and Oscar hated it, so Norris helped him to warm up

"This is not for me." Oscar winches as he eases himself into the ice bath an inch at a time. "You're only making it worse doing it like that, just submerge yourself quickly." Oscar turns to glare at Lando, who is already fully submerged smirking at him.  "Fuck off Lando."

Oscar yelps as a tidal wave of cold water overtakes him. "Who's idea was it to make me share an ice bath with you anyway?" He does fully submerge himself because he's already wet through now anyway.

It's painful, it feels like a thousand knives are piercing his body as the ice bites at his exposed skin. How is Lando just sat there? Oscar squeezes on the side of the bath and bites back the screams he so badly wants to let out.

"Where's your cock Oscar? It's that small I can't see it." Lando laughs at his own joke. "if I wasn't so much pain i'd drown you." Lando laughs even harder. "It's not my fault you have a micro penis."

"I can't take this anymore, i'm too cold." Oscar climbs out, the stifling heat of Singapore is a welcome relief but the shivering still won't stop, and his body is still numb from the cold. "I just can't get warm." Oscar's teeth are chattering.

"I know how I can warm you up." Oscar watches as Lando himself steps out of the tub and drops onto his knees in front of the young Australian, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's if you want me to, of course."

"I errm-" Oscar shivers as Lando's fingers wok their way into the waistband of his shorts while he waits for a response. "Yes, please." The words have barely left his mouth before Lando is roughly pushing down the shorts to his ankles.

"Ooh, you don't have a small dick after all" Lando laughs, his breath tickles Oscar's cock, but he doesn't yet touch it. Oscar was soft before but having a warm wet mouth so close makes his cock twitch to hardness embarrassingly quick.

"Lando please..." Lando's eyes are sparkling and devious as he sticks his tongue out and brushes the tip of it over Oscar' now very hard cock. The smile is still there as he licks his way from Oscar's balls and presses a kiss onto the head but still does not take Oscar into his mouth.

Oscar yelps in surprise as Lando digs his tongue into his sensitive slit, making the Aussie arch his back and force half of his cock into Lando's wet, hot, throat. Lando chuckles around him, sending vibrations of pleasure up his shaft. Oscar having had enough of the teasing pulls harshly at Lando's hair and forces all of his cock inside. "Stop teasing me, or i'll fuck your throat." Oscar fights hard to keep his own smile from forming.   

Lando pulls off fluttering his wet eyelashes innocently. "I had no idea you had such a dominant side, Osc." He doesn't give Oscar any chance to reply and swallows the whole of Oscar's cock and bobs his head up and down the length, letting hit the back of his throat. Oscars eyes roll into the back of his head, tugging harder on Lando's hair. "Yes, yes, please." He growls as he rolls his hips, telling Lando exactly what he wants.  

Lando does not get the memo and instead concentrates on suckling on Oscar's head, lapping up every single drop of pre cum. "No, that's not-" fuck it. Oscar uses the hand in Lando's hair as leverage and hurriedly moves his hips back and forth fucking Lando's throat. Lando groans around him and it feels amazing, this is it, this is what he needs.

"Yes, that's it." Oscar moans again as Lando hollows his cheeks and sucks him even deeper, digging his bitten finger nails into Oscar's pale thighs, leaving angry red crescent moons in his wake.

Oscar breathing because more laboured and deep the closer he gets orgasm. Lando tale his balls into his hand and massages them lovingly as Oscar continues to thrust down his throat, a little bit faster now forcing wet choking sounds from the other man's throat.

"Fuccck." Oscar's whole body starts to shake, his cock twitches uncontrollably causing Lando to choke and gag around him, he's squeezing Oscar's thighs so hard, there's sure to be bruises there in the morning. Oscar chances a look down at Lando, his eyes are glistening with tears, his cheeks a pale pink. God he was made for this.    

He's close now, so fucking close he can barely control the rough thrusts into Lando's throat, barely giving him any chance to regain his breath, drool running down his neck, seeing him in that state is only pushing him closer and closer to the point of no return.

"I'm going to cum, fuck." Oscar growls, both of his hands grip fist fulls for Lando's hair, as he snaps his hips forward, screaming Lando's name over and over as he thrusts one last time, pressing Lando's face into his pubes.   

The tip of his cock hits the back of Lando's throat as he comes, spilling his load into his teammates throat, his body shakes wildly as he spills every last drop, only then does he pull out, smirking a little bit as Lando swallows, not spilling a single drop.

"Are you feeling warmer now Oscar?" Lando giggles, his voice scratchy from having his throat fucked. "Much warmer, thanks." Oscar pants struggling to regain his breath, his eyes landing on the obvious boner in Lando's shorts.

"Errm, did you want to do something about that?" Oscar nods in the direction of Lando's cock, is he supposed to return the favour or not?

Lando looks down, like he's only just noticed it's there. "Well actually, I was thinking we could go back to the hotel and i'll fuck you?"

[vannybarber]

Eyes Forward

Summary: Let's face it, long haired Chris is irresistible. So you take your chances.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f to m), handjob, rimming (f to m), LONG HAIRED CHRIS, fluff 🥺 this gif can absorb me 🥵.

Watching the two beautiful brown skinned goddesses grind and makeout on the screen, you couldn't help the puddle forming in your panties. This wasn't the first time you and your buddy Christopher have watched explict films together. In fact, it was one of you guys' favorites genres.

You and Chris had found a show called 'The Wire', which has a 9.3 rating on IMDB. A rating that high on such a stingy app had to be good. A sex scene between the two women had arrived, which threw you both off because of how unfiltered it was. But you weren't complaining. Neither was Chris.

He was fixated on the TV, watching the view before him, a boner visibly formed through his grey sweats. Trying to adjust himself, he fails as he gets distracted again by the close up of them.

Getting a sudden burst of bravery, you maneuver your left hand onto his bulge and rub it in a slow motion. He whips his head at you, puzzled, but somehow absentmindedly grinding himself onto your hand.

You put your index finger to your mouth and point back to the screen with a small smirk. He follows your silent orders without protest. It's not like he could form words at the moment anyway.

The scene gets more intense as the woman straddling Sonja, the actress, breasts show on the screen and she takes them both in her mouth. Chris sucks in a breath, which is quickly covered with a cough as you add pressure to his covered length. You let a giggle escape from your pressed lips.

You turn your body so your front is fully facing his right side and switch hands, laying your right one back on his pants and your left around his neck.

"Y/N..", he says through gritted teeth.

"Shh and keep your eyes foward." You nibble on his ear and squeeze him to affirm your instructions. Moving your lips down to his neck, planting long but soft kisses, he groans, thrusting himself up in your grip. Getting at his hints, you push your hand inside his pants and slowly smooth a soft but firm way down his shaft. It almost shocked you how long it took your fingertips to reach the head.

You look up at Chris and his eyes are slowly closing so you squeeze him in your hand. He shoots his eyes open and looks at you.

"Do not close your eyes. Keep them open and watch the TV" you command in a rather stern voice. "Don't they look amazing?" He nods his head in agreement.

"The one with the short hair has beautiful tits." You smile because he's absolutely right.

"Yes, she does. Look at the way she's sucking them." As you comment on the scene, you rub your hand up and down his cock as much as possible, but grow frustrated with the restriction of his clothes. "Take your pants off."

He moves to shove his jeans down and kicks his feet out the holes. Getting a better view, he is well endowed. You take both hands and stroke him. He can't help but watch, but the scene is over so you don't scold him.

"You like that baby?" You coax him, moving a little faster. You both make eye contact and he breathlessly lets out a 'yes'. You bit your lip and smile. Catching him off guard, you dip your head down and take him in your mouth.

He maneuvers his right hand onto your ass, giving it a squeeze. You moan around him, making him groan and thrust up into your mouth. Suddenly you pull back. He quickly gets worried.

"What's wrong?" You cup his cheek.

"Oh nothing. As much as I love you feeling on my ass, I want you to see me sucking your cock."

With that, you slide off the couch and on your knees in between his legs. He sighs, appeased and adjusting himself so he could get the perfect view.

"Hope you weren't worried there." You joke, smiling and winking at him. He grins, shaking his head. He's still rock solid and throbbing when you grab his cock again and sliding your mouth back on it.

After bobbing your head up and down for some time, you take him out and push his legs further out to drag your tounge from the very bottom, swirling around his tight hole. You let out a hot breath over it, resulting in him letting out a small whimper while you pump him faster.

You move back up, tongue still on him and lick up his wide shaft and take him back in your mouth, finishing him off. A few more seconds and you feel him twitch.

"Fuck, I'm 'bout to cum" he groans out. Warm shots of his seed score in your throat and slide down your tongue. Satisfied, you suck up and off him, making sure you collect every drop. You open your mouth, and show him the mess he made in you. He nods with approval.

"Swallow."

You gulp down all the sweet content and smile at him. Getting off your knees, you strip from your clothes, pussy aching from the need to have him inside you. He watches as you remove everything, all your forbidden parts coming into view.

"Like whatcha see, Evans?" You smirk at him.

"Yeah, but I'd like it better if it was inside it." He doesn't have to say any more. You climb on his lap and pull his shirt over his head, ginger locks falling back into place.

"Ya know, I'm really loving this look. You should keep your hair like this." You comb your fingers through his silky hair, mesmerized with it.

"If it makes you do shit like this, I'm just might." He traces his fingers on your thighs and moves them up your hips and on your back, pushing you towards him. Your lips plant on his, moving in perfect motion, not missing one beat.

Mouths staying connected, you grab his cock and meet it with your entrance and sink down slowly to feel it stretch every wall. You suck in a breath and moan, fully seated on him. After getting comfortable, you pull away and start moving on him. Looking in his eyes, you search for his breaking point. The move that's gonna do it for him.

"You like that baby? You like when I bounce on your cock?" His eyes shift almost at your verbal attack. He slaps your ass in response but also a warning. You just grin. It's working.

"Gotdamn Y/N, you're so fucking tight." His face crunches up, head thrown to the cushion of the couch. You squeeze him as a thanks. Workouts pay off.

"A tight, wet pussy and a big ole cock, what'd you expect?" You kind of laugh as you move faster on him. You could feel him touching every spot inside you, that sharp ping of pleasure hitting you everytime you slide back up.

"Fuck, daddy you're gonna make me cum," you whine out, not being able to handle the feeling, like you asserted before. You flatten your palms on his shoulders and try to bounce as fast as you can, but the ecstasy is weakening your ability. Chris takes notice and quickly solves the issue.

Pushing you towards him, he adjusts your knees up a little closer to his hips and grips your ass and starts fucking into you. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and drop your head down beside his.

"Mmm Chris that feels so," you let out a whimper when he hits your spot 2 thrusts in a row, "so good."

"Mhm you thought you were the one in control, didn't you sweetheart?" The sound of your ass hitting his thighs accelerates your want to cum. You need it so bad.

"Shoving your hand down my pants, tryna seduce me, but who's the one getting her pretty little hole fucked??" At every word, a thrust gets harder and your mind goes even more blank.

You can't even form words, only adorable tiny noises and moans leaving your vocal box. He grips your waist roughly, not satisfied with your answer.

"You better fucking answer me or I'll stop right now and make you suck me off again and this sweet little pussy won't get to cum." He slaps your sore pussy and you inhale a single, but deadly breath.

"I am! I'm getting my little h-hole fucked," you scream. It was humiliating, but that's what made it more arousing. You tried to be in control, but failing effortlessly once he was deep inside you.

"Good baby. Daddy's fucking this hole way better than anyone else could, so it's only fair that it belong to me now, right?" He looks up at you and grabs your face to look him in the eyes. "This pussy is mine, yeah?"

At this point, fuck it.

"Yes, Daddy my hole belongs to you! All my holes are yours." You could feel that familiar pressure rising in the pit of your stomach as he fucks up in it. You grow excited, but more determined to make it last.

"I'm gonna cum," you moan as he lets your face go, but not breaking eye contact. "Make me cum, Daddy. I wanna cum all over your cock. I want it so bad. More than anything!"

"Just let go, baby. Let go for Daddy." His voice is soft and encouraging. You do as he says and let your orgasm take over your body. He could feel your hot cum spreading all over the head of his cock.

In retaliation, he shortly follows, filling your pussy to the brim, quite more than he ever has before.

"I feel so full." You sigh, content and fulfilled. A dopey smile is on your face and your body is limp. He rubs your back and plants kisses on the side of your face and on your shoulder blade.

"I'm gonna go give you a bath. Alright, bear?" He turns his head, waiting for you to look at him and give the 'ok'. You lift your head.

"Can we just stay here for a little bit longer please?" He kisses your nose and wraps his arms around you, securing you to him.

"Of course." You lie your head back down and close your eyes.

You could get used to this.

I know I said I was gonna finish this a long time ago, but I got distracted per usual 😭 hope you guys liked it 🧡

masterlist

[pseudofaux]

You've given me a pity ask 😛😉.. and I'm gonna snatch it up like a margarita on a Friday night after a long week..

I'd like a spice level ??? I'll leave it to you.. but juicy is never bad with a certain SLBP ninja, the sexy asf Saizo. I don't know if I've ever read a Saizo from you.. but I would be eternally grateful for one that included a rain soaked backdrop, (wet clothes couldn't hurt, either 😏) and maybe some dango devouring, rawr.

But.. these are mere suggestions. I know no matter what I get, I won't be disappointed. And I can't wait. Thank you, mistress of smut. I look forward to what you cook up. 💖

This worked out perfectly— HAPPY SAIZO’S BIRTHDAY TO YOU! 🍡 Thank you for requesting, hot stuff! Please enjoy MR. MOODY doing his thing. 💚🤍💕

(Requests are open through May 1, 2021 if you’d like to get one in, reader.)

He has licked each of her fingertips, his tongue as soft on her as his eyes are sharp. He has laced their hands and put one of her arms over her head against the wall and the other around his back, and even more than those keen-edge eyes, this is the tell that he is more miserable than angry: when he has the chance to put her where he wants her (and when does he not have such a chance?), he does not isolate her, he brings her close.

There is one soft rumble of thunder that rolls into the room from all sides, like faraway war drums. But the music of war drums is not for dancing. She has been in this place long enough to know real danger, and she is in a darkened room with it now. He would never hurt her—not too badly— and still, he is dangerous. It’s simply what he is.

“Saizo,” she begins, but he closes his eyes and a muscle in his neck flexes and she knows she should stop. He’s actually the one that told her that: You know that if you can’t run from danger, you can still tuck yourself up like a rabbit and hide in a dark corner, hmm? Better to stay out of sight than be truly stupid. Know when to stop.

“You should shut up now,” he says without opening his eyes. “Just for now.”

The fall of rain gets a little louder. She can hear it, because she has shut up. It is shockingly dim in this room considering it is midafternoon, but even before she stepped inside with her little tray of treats, the clouds were slate and heavy and the air was cold, already wet. The pressure of the storm rests on his shoulders and she wishes she could take it away. That’s what she was trying to do with the platter of skewers, distract him.

He slowly opens his eyes. She doesn’t say anything, but she flexes her hand on his back and gives him a silent, hopeful smile. If you want me to touch you, you have to let me. She really wishes she could talk, because now would be a great time to give him those words back. He said them so silkily on a happier day, when he’d been dropping from all kinds of rafters to tickle the back of her neck and make her shriek in surprise. He can be playful.

How he does it she will never know, but he palms a single perfect, unsquished, unspeared dumpling into her hand behind his back and then releases her fingers. “What do we do with a treat, hmm?”

She notices he hasn’t given her permission to answer his question. So instead of saying “Offer it to Saizo?” like she wants to, she simply raises her hand between them and tries to make a beseeching face. Take it. It’s yours, just like the rest I made, because I love you.

But he tips her hand toward her mouth, not his. She is so surprised she does not even think to open and the dango becomes less perfect when he uses her hand to smush it against her and laughs, dark and a little unkind... but now his eyes are not sharp at all, they have that soft look that gives her goosebumps all over. And when she opens her mouth, he actually smiles

“Good girl,” he says. “Don’t chew.”

His mouth is on hers so quickly it is a miracle she did not gasp the dango back into her throat. But it is definitely closer to her teeth, because he curls his tongue like a hook to pull it toward himself and delicately bites it out of her mouth. He swallows without chewing and kisses her until she does not know where either of her hands are any more.

“How many did you make?” he asks. His body is so warm and so close, and his kisses were so breathtaking, that she is dizzy. The air near them is cold but it feels very far away.

“...enough,” she says, and her voice is lost, small. It belongs to him.

He knows where her hands are. He is still holding one above her head against the wall, and he lifts the other to it. Did it thud against the wood, or was that more thunder? This man is more dangerous than a thousand wars, and he makes her heart feel like it is louder than a thousand drums.

“We’ll see about that,” he promises. They do.

[the-mad-starker]

Paint My Wings With Your Heat

Mads💗:  wingfic! Wingfic! I'm very excited to write this with @starkerkeyz​ and what should've been a one-shot got… a whole lot longer. But that seems the norm. Hope you guys enjoy the intro!

Keyz 💖: Wingfic has been so fun! I’m glad it was brought up in starker and that Mads agreed to rp it with me. This one-shot definitely grew but I think you’re all going to love it!Tumblr note: also check out Keyz's awesome moodboard in this post!!

WC: 3898

(AO3 Link)

Also check out Keyz's awesome moodboard in this post!!

Notes: ABO dynamics, intersex omegas, wing kink, in-flight fucking, knotting, courting, soulmate au

💗💖💗💖

Tony rubs at his nose and squints harder at the screen. His nose has been tickling at him on and off and endlessly in between ever since Peter stepped out for- something. He isn’t sure what. Or when, really. But he does know that this code's going to work for him by the end of the night or he would sacrifice DUM-E to Thor for inspiration. 

Tony smiles at the thought of Thor playing fetch with his boy and then rubs his tickling nose and turns his head to the side. He isn’t sure why (he's actually in the middle of reading that, thanks) but then his eyes land on the feather. 

It’s a soft gray and white. It looks innocent enough except that Tony can smell the enticing scent of omega and mate from a mile off. 

It makes his blood quicken in his veins and Tony snatches it up before he can think better of it. He runs the oils over the tips of his fingers and shivers from the low sheen left behind. He nearly touches those same fingertips to his wrist when he gets ahold of himself. 

Peter’s left him a beacon feather. 

Or, more probably, he’s accidentally shed one, not knowing the significance. It can be hard to realize how potent a reaction the scent can have on an alpha, especially if it’s an omega’s first mating season. 

Like Peter’s.

Tony puts the feather down (reluctantly) and pointedly wipes his fingers on his pants instead of his body. 

He needs to be respectful. Peter probably has no idea what that signaled to Tony. How very tempting it would be to accept that kind of offer and roost away with Peter all season, fucking him full of their fledglings for the year. Gods. Peter would make the best mother to Tony’s young.

But he needs to know what he's getting into. 

Tony could… show him. If he wants. Play mating flights could be performed in any one of the gyms. Play mating could be done here, in the lab. 

It could be done as soon as Peter gets back. 

Tony glances at the feather. Touches it. Licks his lips and strokes a single fingertip down the shaft. 

He’ll put it on the table. Peter is young and naive about some things, but he deserves the option to choose to learn. Tony hopes he says yes with an adjustment of his pants. 

Outside the lab, Peter peers in through the clear glass walls. His wings rustle around him nervously and he's fiddling with one of the primary feathers.

He lets go of it once he realizes what he's doing. It's a bad habit Peter has but he's always messed with his feathers instead of preening when he gets nervous.

He feels like he has the perfect excuse to be nervous though. He's shed his very first beacon feather and even though he thinks it's so… mediocre looking, he left it right on Tony's lab table.

Peter experiences a roller coaster of emotions when his boss finally notices the feather but then his heart sinks. Tony had handled it like it was… offensive. Barely touching it and wiping away any residual oil on his pants.

He can literally feel his heart sink all the way to his stomach then down through the soles of his feet and even further than that. His wings droop but then he fluffs them up, trying to cheer himself up.

He doesn't want to smell upset or anxious. Maybe… Maybe Tony's just not looking for a mate. Yet.

That's what he tells himself when he reenters the lab, carrying the paperwork he retrieved earlier.

He holds it close to his chest, tucking his wings even closer to his body. He's gotten better at maneuvering around the lab, but he still has an embarrassing tendency to knock something over.

"I got the reports," Peter says with a cheerful chirp. "Made sure they sent the right ones this time, Mr. Stark."

Maybe he could… just slip the beacon feather back into his pocket or something…? Minimize the embarrassment he already feels.

“Peter!” Tony says his name like he’s been caught doing something wrong. 

He swivels around in his chair and flares his wings out automatically, alpha to omega, exactly like he’d been planning not to do. He's supposed to bring the topic up calmly and professionally, not present his interest immediately like a rutting alpha with no manners. 

Peter almost drops the reports at the presentation but his grip tightens so much that his knuckles turn white. The bright colors of Tony's wings have always mesmerized him and he gapes stupidly in response to the display.

His own wings flutter but he's too shocked to do anything else.

Tony brings his fiery red wings back to heel, the bright gold coloring flashing at the tips of his primaries like metallic paint as they curl forward and around his body. 

“Well. Um. Sorry about that, Peter, but I wanted to mention, I think you accidentally left this in here,” Tony says as he picks up the beacon feather delicately. He holds it out to Peter and hopes his eyes don’t show how much he wants to eat him up. 

Peter's eyes drop to the offered feather.

Accidentally… The words are there on the tip of his tongue, an outright denial that there isn't anything accidental about it. But he bites his lip because if Tony's trying to give him a less embarrassing out, he should take it.

He reaches for it, intent on tucking it away apologizing profusely but the look in Tony's eyes makes his breath catch. He's never seen that look before and his brows twitch, trying to decipher it.

The alpha keeps talking though and Peter perks up in attention.

“And, well, I don’t know how much you know about beacon feathers,” Tony hadn’t known anything. His father and mother hadn’t thought it important to teach an alpha. “But they’re really important. And they can… They can affect an alpha. Make them want you. And I just wanted to make sure you knew about that so you didn’t leave them and attract an alpha you don’t want, you know?”

Tony’s pupils dilate as he goes on. His voice doesn’t change to reflect his inner lust; he’s too practiced at controlling himself.

Peter nods dumbly, fingers closing around the tip of the beacon feather. He still doesn't tug it, waits for Tony to release it since these delicate things are so fragile.

He's not sure where this conversation is going but there's an undercurrent of something coming. Something exciting.

“And I wanted to offer, entirely optional, if you needed or wanted a mentor for a play mating session, or to run a practice mating flight with, I wouldn’t mind helping you out. This will be your first season, right? I want you to be prepared and comfortable.” Tony says and thinks I want you to be mine. 

He doesn’t think that’d go over very well. He’s halfway convinced Peter will be disgusted by this offer of play mating. 

Peter is so young and beautiful; ripe and fertile and ready for the picking. 

Tony wants Peter to have all the tools he needs to pick the best alpha to father his fledglings every season. 

The offer is even more shocking than Tony's abrupt presentation.

Peter feels… faint. The papers slip from his arm and falls, scattering all over them.

"Oh, God," Peter bemoans, dropping to the floor and scrabbling to pick them up. His face flushes a cherry red.  "I'm– I'm so sorry, I'm so– clumsy. I–"

“It’s okay, kid. Here, I’ve got you.” Tony hops out of his chair and then pops down to begin scooping up the papers, thinking Peter was mortified with his offer. He’s clearly read the signals wrong. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. 

No matter how old you get, rejection is always embarrassing and Tony could feel his cheeks heating as red as his wings. 

Peter’s wings settle around him, the very bottoms pooling around him on the floor. His heart is beating so fast and he almost thinks he made the whole thing up in his head.

Tony, proposing playmating? To him? Practice flights?

Abruptly, he jerks his head up with the realization that he hasn't answered the man.

"It will be my first… season…" Peter says shyly. 

“I don’t want you to feel nervous about it. The TV shows can make it seem intense, and it is, but it’s also… well, the poets and the scholars all talk about how beautiful and natural it is, but honestly? It’s pretty damn fun, too. And I just want you to be comfortable going into it.” Tony schools his expression and sets the papers on the desk and out of the way. 

He keeps his wings to himself and very pointedly doesn’t touch the younger man. No pressure. Peter can reject him with no repercussions. 

Peter fights against the urge to use a wing to cover his face. He shouldn't… His end goal is to have Tony as a mate, not as a mentor. But then again… Maybe… Maybe he could prove how good of a mate he could be and maybe then Tony would want him…?

"I think I'd like that, sir," Peter bites his bottom lip, "If you, um, don't mind… You don't have to either, Mr. Stark… I could… learn on my own or…"

There are local groups that help guide omegas like him. Group flights and classes… He shudders at the thought of attending them and would probably rather just… not fly at all.

His crush on his boss is too strong. His wings and his heart won't let him get caught by anyone else.

It takes Tony longer than it should to register what Peter means. His eyes widen and his wings mantle hopefully, eager for this sweet smelling omega. 

“I don’t mind. I like teaching you.” Tony says with a smile. 

Peter learns everything he sets his mind to faster than anyone else Tony’s had the chance to work with yet. He’s incredible and such a kind soul on top. 

“Whenever you want, just let me know. I’ll teach, but you lead.” 

There. Break up the power structure between them a little and maybe Tony wouldn’t feel so guilty. Peter’s of age but he’s so young (this is his very first season!) and Tony doesn’t want to corrupt him. 

He does sort of wish he could take the feather back though. Maybe make a necklace out of it. Treasure it, when Peter picked some other alpha closer to his age season by season. 

Peter's wide-eyed by then. He drops his eyes, mind racing.

What does he want…? Is it really just as easy as Peter opening his mouth and telling the older man, "Sex. I want to know about sex. I want to know about alphas and not just about alphas but about you–"

The color in his cheeks deepens and he squirms.

He dares a peek at the older man. This is entirely embarrassing. It's taken them months to get used to each other and Peter's never been so shy around Tony but of course, revealing his feelings and being completely misunderstood… It'd bring him down but his heart's beating in excitement.

"I don't know what I want," Peter admits. Besides you. "I don't know how the mating flights work or even… What attracts an alpha? These–" He holds up his poor, rejected beacon feather. "Is it… Is this one not good? Shape? Color? Oil's too… I don't know. Why didn't you… like it?"

He wants to know what Tony likes but he can't outright ask him. He looks at him, hopeful for answers.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Tony says immediately. 

He isn’t sure what gave the kid that impression. It’s one of the most distracting things in the world; it actually managed to pull Tony Stark from his work in under 5 minutes. 

Tony extends a hand and trails a knuckle up the shaft, wings rustling as Peter’s oil rich pheromones sink into his callouses like a perfume. Tony inhales deeply and feels the urge to run the golden edges of his wings across Peter’s still attached mating feathers for more.

Peter's hit, suddenly and unexpectedly, with a jolt of arousal when Tony touches the feather. Even when it's no longer attached to him, this simple act feels indescribably intimate, as though Tony's touching him directly.

He presses his wings even closer to his body, trying to trap the rising scent of arousal. He doesn't know if he's succeeded.

“It smells- you smell- really good,” Tony parts his lips and drops his hand before he tries taking the beacon feather for himself. “But I can’t keep it when you don’t know what it means or what it’ll do to me.”

He’d start following Peter around, tailing him with the instinct to collect more feathers and keep any rivals away. He’d get the urge to scent him, the urge to rub their wings together. It would be like Peter tying Tony to himself with a rope until the feather loses its scent or the season hits and Peter accepts or rejects him. 

Somehow, Tony doesn’t think Peter wants a shadow in his forties with bad knees and bad memories following him around like a horny, winged puppy.

Peter's breath has turned shallow and subconsciously, his wings fan out around him. The subtle scent of aroused omega starts to taint the air and he blushes when he catches it. He can't undo it though so looks from Tony to the feather and back again.

He bites his lip again, wondering if he may be going too far. But they've just agreed to do this so maybe not?

Tony’s eyes snap from the feather to Peter’s lips. His wings rustle and shift into a half spread, nearly vibrating in anticipation. 

"What can it do to– to alphas?" Peter manages not to outright ask about Tony but that's essentially the question.

He knows these feathers are left for potential mates, but his senses as a mature omega have only recently sharpened. All the… scents are still confusing for him to interpret. His feathers aren't pretty, at all. He has, previously, bemoaned the fact, so sure that the dull whites and greys would do nothing to attract a mate like Tony.

But maybe, he's wrong. The way Tony eyes the feather makes his chest tighten and his insides want to melt. He wants to offer the feather, wants to tuck it into Tony's dark hair and just have it known that this alpha is his.

The strength of those thoughts are almost terrifying in its intensity but to Peter, it feels right 

“Oh, Peter.” Tony stands up straighter at the smell of aroused omega combined with that innocent question. He watches him intently, shoulders rolling and eyes lidding in calculation. All at once, the half spread of his wings goes from inviting to predatory, the metallic gold color at the ends of his wings promising to envelop the smaller gray-white of Peter’s own. 

Tony’s wings quiver for the hunt.

“It will make me want to court you. Remind me of you, tempt me. All through the day.” Tony’s voice has gone dark and warm. He wants, very badly, to pin Peter down and show him what his mate scent has done to him.

Peter leans in close like Tony's very words lure him in. His lips softly part, his heart picking up speed cause he very much likes the picture Tony's painting.

“I’ll want to follow you around. I probably will, since we work together. I’ll want to provide you food, and since we’re so close, I’ll actually do it, too. I’ll touch you.” Tony’s bigger, golden primaries stroke through Peter’s, feathers interlocking and dragging through each other. Tony’s eyes were almost all black with his arousal.

The only reason Peter hasn’t clued in on Tony’s response is his inexperience with scenting on the alpha/omega level and the fact he hasn’t looked down at Tony’s groin. 

Peter shudders in clear ecstasy. His wings have felt so sensitive lately. It has to do with the shedding and that mating season is so soon… He may not know much about mating habits, but his body seems to know something.

The muscles flex, making the individual rows of feathers fan out more. It makes it easier for an alpha to spread his scent, easier for Tony to leave his own oils along Peter's whites and greys.

“I’ll want to touch you all the time. If we didn’t work together, it would just be an urge I felt whenever I smelled the feather. A growing bond. But since we do work together,” Tony’s voice is even deeper now. Husky. “I’ll probably be unconsciously scenting you. Touching you whenever you’re in reach.”

He drags his golden edges against Peter again. A part of him wishes he really was dipped in paint so that he could leave streaks of gold claim behind wherever he touches. 

“I’ll be compelled to. The more compatible we are, the stronger the urges. The more beacon feathers you give me,” Here Tony’s voice nearly broke with longing. “If you give me any more, that is. They would have a compounding effect. More feeding. More nesting. More touching. More everything.”

Peter shivers at the words. It's almost a promise …

He wants all that. Everything. The courting, the scenting… He'd give every single beacon feather he had just to have Tony look at him. But he only has the one in his hands.

With a pounding heart, he looks at his mentor with a blush on his cheeks.

"Are we compatible, Mr. Stark…?" He asks and he can't bear to look Tony in the eye. He shakes his head profusely. "Y-You don't have to answer that. That was probably so awkward."

He thrusts the beacon feather at the older man.

"You can, um, keep it if you want," Peter forges on. "There isn't anyone– I mean, if you're going to… teach me… I want to give it to you… If you want it…"

His ears must be such a bright red color but besides feeling embarrassed over his fumbling words and actions, Peter feels like he's in the clouds. Just a slight twitch of his muscles and his wings spread out in offering, hoping…

Tony looks at the feather with yearning. He shouldn’t. He gets obsessive as a personality trait and with such easy access to Peter, he’ll be scenting him and getting the urge to mount him non-stop in the weeks to come. 

That thought has him remembering his offer about practice flights and play mating with a twitch of the tent in his pants. He could imagine pinning Peter down and surrounding him with Tony’s red and gold wings, enveloping him in Tony’s alpha dominance and posturing. 

If play mating is still on the table, then he needs to consider Peter mature enough to make his own decision regarding who he gives his beacon feathers to. 

Plus, the kid looks so hopeful with his big puppy eyes and fluffy grey-white feathers. 

“We’re compatible.” Tony plucks the feather up out of his grasp before he can think better of it. He’s never liked lying to the people he likes. 

The relief that washes over him feels like a cool waterfall. The confirmation of what he's hoped for since he became an intern here sends him back to cloud nine.

They're compatible and Peter wants to step forward and get a good scenting in. He wants to learn Tony's alpha scent. It's only fair now that he's becoming familiar with Peter's own emerging omega scent.

He feels giddy with excitement, but that all changes with the next thing the alpha does.

Tony runs the coveted feather over his wrist and then his throat. He sighs softly. Peter’s mate scent was so invigorating from off of his own skin. 

Tony looks at Peter with eyes nearly swallowed by pupil.

All that bubbly excitement turns to molten hot heat when the alpha trails his feather over his skin. That… That has to mean something, right? His brain just short-circuits because using Peter's feather like that… it seems almost indecent.

Peter stares back, breath caught, nose tickled by the scent of something that turns his brain to mush. His wings quiver with a slight tremble and they've never done that before.

“Peter. Thank you for this. I want to make sure you’re prepared. Anything you need, I’ll get it for you. Any questions, I’ll answer. Your first season is going to be amazing.” Tony says, taking it upon himself to make it so. For Peter.

"I–" 

Peter isn't even sure what to say because he may not be in heat yet, but it feels like he's on the very verge. Every breath he pulls in, he recognizes more and more the situation he's found himself in. 

And it excites him.

But it also terrifies him because he has absolutely no idea what he's doing.

Tony advances a step and then brings his other foot level. His wings spread out, red and gold spilling around them like a curtain of feathers. He wants to knock wings with the young omega, wrestle and rub their scents together until he could maneuver Peter down and under him, where he belongs. 

Tony’s wings shake with leashed need. The golden tips tremble in coiled anticipation.

The air is spiced with a deeper scent, something dark and rich– different from an omega's. It makes Peter feel hot, almost burning and he fidgets in place, wings spreading even wider to dissipate some of the heat blooming inside him.

He's smelling Tony, Peter realizes, and it's with a dawning sense of horror that he feels his insides turn molten and he's going to–

"T-Thank you, sir," he chokes out. "I trust you– I… Thank you! I need to… go pick up the equipment from floor 60."

Tony fans his wings out in mirror to Peter’s; shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet. The painted gold ends of his primaries trail the ground. They shake from the shivery omegan need flavoring the air around them. 

Expectant. 

Ripe.

Peter takes off in a sprint towards the open balcony doors. Who needs the elevators when they can free fall towards the necessary floor? Flying too much during the workday would tire anyone out, but Peter thinks this is necessary. 

He needs the biting cold of the rushing wind to cool him off before he actually slicks up right in front of his boss.

Peter either isn’t thinking or doesn’t realize what he’s done (or doesn’t know how to fly indoors because he’s a good boy that follows the rules) because he stays on foot.

Tony’s body comes alive with the chase, sudden and unstoppable with the need to hunt his potential mate down and lay his claim. His skin tingles and flushes and between his legs his cock grows thicker in excitement. 

There’s no way Tony can hold back. No stopping the all consuming instinct thrumming through every vein, bone and muscle. In less than a second it’s like he had become a force of nature. 

Tony scoops his wings through the air and launches after his young mate.