#twice even cause two emails

[call-me-rucy]

CRIED BUT DID THE THING ANYWAY.

Currently chickening out of sending an email that would change my life a lot because change scary.

Damn, I want this. It was one of my New Year's Resolutions. And now it has unexpectly come into my reach, why am I shaking like a stupid tree leaf in late autumn?

[star-the-car]

being in a m o o d (tm) sucks-

i just wanna oiurgkhreailijgkustfijlkigjrerk but i cant cause of finals week :(

[raeathnos]

.

[yoshistory]

i feel so guilty saying and thinking this but like. next time i go to the store i think i have to pick up a much cheaper brand of cat food to feed Rascal with because i really can't afford to feed 3 cats like. a gourmet diet

[areyoudoingthis]

I'm almost done with my transition paperwork. it's been nearly a year since i started. we live in an evil bureaucratic hellscape

[sweetchillipeppers]

Jason Todd x Reader - Teacher AU

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: Y’all what if I actually got back into writing fics? I didn’t know I could do that. But write what you want to see. And I want to see English teacher by day, Red Hood by night Jason Todd with History teacher reader so sue me. More importantly, I want to see Damian in reader’s classroom at lunchtime bitching about his brother. I already have part two, so that will be posted soon. (And y’all get to have a look at the Red Hood!)

Also I believe this is gender neutral if anyone sees gendered language let me know and I'll fix it.

Tags: Rivals to lovers, kind of mutual pining, Teacher AU Word Count: 3368

Pt 1 Pt 2

You were warned that teaching would be just like high school all over again. The same cliques and bullies and drama that plagued the halls when you were 15, to be repeated now that you’ve returned to the school as an adult. To think that fully grown human beings are still caught up in the same scandals, doomed to the same behaviour 10 years after they should have grown out of it. You never would have believed it until you saw it yourself. Until even you devolved to your teenage years, developing a deep hatred for a fellow colleague. Okay. Hatred was a strong word for the rivalry but the dislike you held for a certain English teacher was real. And right now, he was the reason you’ve had to delay a test for your students. The email you’d received less than 10 minutes before your class was due to start did nothing but add to the rage you felt.

“10th grade English stream A2 is running over. 7 kids still need to present their projects. They’ll be late for their next class. Sorry for the delay.” 

Attached was a list of students in the class who would be late. All unsurprisingly in your history class. Mr Jason Todd had no respect for you, no respect for your time and no respect for your subject.

As the two youngest teachers at the school, you were often paired together: volunteer work, lunch duty, after school workshops. It didn’t help that your two departments, history and english, also worked closely with one another. You hated that the kids adored him. You hated that the other teachers still adored him, especially after all his flakiness. You knew that he hadn’t appeared at over half the after school volunteer work you had to do, and that he likely had an active social or dating life that was the cause, something you missed since becoming a teacher. So maybe, the hatred was all just jealousy. NOT. As if you’d be so petty.

When you first met Jason, you liked him. Like really liked him. He was pretty and smart and you are oh so attracted to competence. You trapped him in literary discussions from the Brothers York to the Odyssey but he never minded. You threw a couple joint trip ideas around to go see a local Shakespeare play after Christmas or the early 19th century writers exhibition at the museum. He was also the rugby coach and his practice on the field coincided with your volleyball team’s in the hall so twice a week you tidied the equipment cupboard together. You were so certain the two of you would be fast friends. Maybe more. So when the librarian went on paternity leave in October and Jason needed help re-cataloguing the entire library onto the new system you volunteered. A chance to spend time with someone you liked and helping out the school: a win-win. What you hadn’t expected was that what should’ve been a couple hours at most after school for a week turned into a month-long endeavour for you. Only you. Jason would stay for at most 20 minutes before running away with some kind of excuse and vanishing for the rest of the night. By the third week, you’d started cataloguing during your lunch breaks to try speed up the process (and to avoid spending any time with him while your temper simmered under pleasantries). After that you distanced yourself. He clearly had no respect for your time and you by extension. No more literary discussions in the staff room. No more joint tidies in the equipment store and no more library cataloguing. Mr Jason Todd was the most unreliable colleague you had. The bane of your existence. And yet, everyone seems to forget this fact when he flashes a smile or starts talking about classic literature. But not you. No, you could see through his gorgeous face, past those good looks into the depths of his terrible personality. And unfortunately, the only person who agreed with you was a child.

“Todd irritates me far too often. I put in a request at the start of the year that I would not be in any of his classes.” Damian states matter of factly. The two of you were sat in your classroom eating lunch. The youngest Wayne opting to spend time surrounded by history displays instead of braving the lunch hall and eating alone. And, as the teacher, it was your responsibility to encourage him to make friends. After the two of you bitch about Jason of course. 

“I wish I could put in a request to stop seeing him in the staff room. But no, he wanders in with his fancy books and his fancy teas-”

“Those would be Pennyworth’s” He confirms.

“-Flashes a smile and expects me to be nice to him after how flakey he’s been. Can you believe it?”

Damian swallows a bite of his sandwich and nods solemnly. “I can.”

“He’s incredibly unreliable. I mean how do people give him any responsibility after this?” Your arms gesturing wildly.

“Perhaps this is weaponised incompetence. I always say to Father that he is too incompetent for his job.” Damian suggests, shaking his head. “But Father says that he is one of the most competent people he knows”

It’s not too hard to be competent in front of ‘Brucie’ Wayne. But you don’t tell Damian that.

“No, he's definitely competent enough. I know he’s incredibly intelligent and I sat in for one of his classes. He clearly just has zero time management skills.”

“And he lacks respect.”

“And he lacks respect!” You shout, then realise you should probably calm down and sheepishly rub the back of your neck. Although it seems that Damian hadn’t cared about your outburst.

“I am the blood son, he should at least be respectful to the rightful heir. But no, he and Grayson make a habit of tossing me about like a basketball.”

That sounds quite sweet to you, that Damian’s older brothers treat him so nicely and the disagreement must show on your face because Damian scoffs.

“Pennyworth tells me it’s ‘Sibling Bonding’. I do not wish to think of those two imbeciles as related to me.”

“The curse of being the youngest.” you offer in response, “Although it sounds like they want to be playful with you. That they want a good relationship.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending Todd right now.”

You huff at that, changing the subject. “Maybe you should make some other friends, that way you can spend less time with your brothers. Think of it as an escape plan.”

“Are you not my friend?” 

“Um well, yes, but I meant some kids your own age.”

“Ah. Father agrees. He says that Jon is not enough. That I need more than one friend. How many friends do you have? I will achieve the same.” Damian looks determined, which means you’re at least getting through to him. You, on the other hand, feel like a deer in headlights. Honestly you can count the number of friends you have from outside work on one hand. 

“I have lots of friends.” You brag. Damian does not look convinced. “How about you aim to make two more friends? Maybe you should join a club. Ms Song says you excel in her art classes. The art club meets on Tuesday lunchtimes and after school on a Wednesday.”

“I enjoy my lunches in the history room.”

“But this would work for both of us Damian. I start lunchtime duty next week on Tuesdays. I won’t be in my classroom.” A lie, of course, but you really want Damian to make some friends and be more social amongst the other students. You’re not sure who’s timetabled for Tuesday lunchtime duty but you’ll find a way to swap. And luckily, Damian doesn’t call your bluff.

“Fine. I shall join the art club. I suppose it is only fair that I do something uncomfortable as well.”

You have no idea what Damian is talking about but he’s joining the art club so that’s a win for you. He’s putting himself out there socially and that’s all you can hope for. The bell rings and Damian packs up his things, leaving you to get ready for your next class. 

By the end of the day you were still thinking about how much you hated Jason. It’s not like he was the only thing on your mind though. In all honesty the only thing you had learnt from the earlier half of your conversation with Damian is that you were acting like a 14 year old. Not to say neither of your grievances were invalid but you suppose you should maybe give Todd slightly more grace than you do currently. Especially if he already has one enemy in Damian. You think back to the incident this morning. Maybe it really was an accident. Sometimes projects and classes over run. You have to be flexible in teaching. You gather your materials together when the bell rings and your last class rushes out the door. 

“For those of you coming on the trip on Saturday, meet outside the school bright and early!” You call, “The coach leaves at 8.30!”

You sit back down and stretch your arms out as you log into your emails, sending one to the maths teacher asking to switch to her lunchtime duty on Tuesdays. She replies yes and you smile in success. Plan ‘help Damian make friends’ has finished stage one. Wonderful! Scanning the latest reminder from your principal, someone knocks at the door, drawing your attention away. You figure it might be Janice, one of the cleaners or Alejandro the receptionist. “Come in.” you say, and turn back to your emails.

“Where’s good to start setting up?” You would recognise that grating voice in a heartbeat. Jason Todd. You swivel so fast in your chair you almost fall out of it. 

“What are you doing here?” You try to sound as neutral and as unaffected by his very presence as possible. 

“Parents' evening. We’re sharing a classroom. The email went out three weeks ago and a reminder today?” You turn back to the monitor. The last unread email. Damn. You’d agreed to share a classroom when you were still on good terms. 

“I must’ve missed it. I’m ready to start setting up right now.” You smile through gritted teeth.

You were so wrong about giving grace. That man has done nothing but step on your toes all afternoon. That display should be changed, these books should be out, example essays from each subject should have no overlap. And the worst part is that he was right on most counts. But you don’t take lightly to being ordered around by a man who does nothing but infuriate you. In less than an hour the parents will be walking into your room and judging you and the school and you again and Jason still isn’t back. He better be in the toilet having a case of explosive diarrhoea or so help him god, the principal will have to scrape his remains off the teacher car park. It’s been 20 minutes. You suppose the classroom is prepped and ready for the parents so you could just wait anxiously by yourself. You suppose nothing was tethering him here when the displays were done as long as he made it back before the parents. You suppose he wouldn’t want to spend time with someone who had become so hostile and jagged towards him. Maybe he was talking with some of the other teachers, you reasoned. He hadn’t abandoned you again. Not after the promises about turning up and being here. And certainly not after the principal’s second reminder email that seemed more like a warning. Perhaps you should go see if any other teachers needed help last minute as well. To keep your mind busy and away from the failure Jason was setting you up for. You lock your classroom and walk towards the art room.

Jason was running late again. Dick had called in an SOS and he was closest. And to make up for it he figured it wouldn’t matter if he stopped to grab a coffee for you each as a peace offering. He did enjoy your company after all. He knew that your iciness these past few weeks had been well deserved. He didn’t mean to miss all the cataloguing but it was a particularly active week for Black Mask and Penguin and then the week after that he was recovering from a stab wound he’d gotten during a routine drug bust. Getting a second job had taken some getting used to. So he could hardly blame you for your hostility. He knew he deserved it. So in order to make amends, he grabbed you a drink from the cafe two blocks from the school before he joined you in your classroom, ready for parents evening. He signed back into the office before catching a glimpse at the time. Shit. You were going to be so angry if he was late again. So he sprinted like a madman, ignoring all his very new teacher instincts about running in corridors. As Jason rushed towards your classroom he didn't notice the art room door open and you step out, waving goodbye to Ms Song. 

The apology coffee ended up all over you. Seeping through your sweater and your shirt. Your nice, white shirt, ironed and pressed for parents' evening. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to-” Jason starts.

“It's okay Jason, really.” You swallow and turn to keep walking to your class. You were trying not to lose it. Not to cry or yell, when parents could walk through the door at any moment. Jason trailed behind you. When you walk into your classroom he calls your name. 

“What?” You snap. You have run out of patience and out of grace for him. He takes off his knit jumper, passing it to you.

“It’ll help cover the stain.”

“It’ll be weird though won’t it?” You question, eyebrow raised. You knew exactly what the staff room would sound like on Monday if anyone saw you. 

“Is that worse than letting the principal see you talking to parents covered in coffee?”

You don’t reply. He was right, per usual. You take the jumper, unenthusiastically and pull it on. It smells like him. Not that it would mean anything to you of course, it’s just a smell. It has absolutely zero effect on you. Jason was also not faring too well. Seeing you in his jumper was quite endearing. But it had no effect on him either. Everyone looked good in knit. Thankfully, you both hear the parents walking around the corridors and are able to break the awkwardness. 

“Ready to go?” He asks.

“People will like history way better than English.” You promise in response, looking at your display on ancient civilisations, matching your 9th grade class’s current topic. The bright colours and big posters were sure to catch everyone’s eyes.

Jason smirks, “More people like Shakespeare than you think.” He references his own display: a large, badly drawn, picture of Shakespeare with literary technique thought bubbles surrounding him. You roll your eyes, desperately trying to stop any trace of a smile. You were still angry at him. But right now, the parents need your attention.

The two of you finally finished the evening. It had been taxing, no thanks to your revived rivalry. You spent the entire evening one-upping each other to parents, as subtle as possible of course. When the principal had checked in on your pair, you were sweet as saints. No matter how much you disliked the man, even you couldn't deny how well you worked together. He apologised multiple times about the coffee. He really did feel bad about it all. The spill really was an accident. He also apologised for his flakiness, but gave no explanation as to why he had abandoned you for weeks on end. You found no reasonable explanation incredibly hard to believe. So you still didn’t trust him. 

When the final parents left and the two of you began the tedious task of tidying, you walked up to him. “Just because we’ve worked well together tonight does not mean I forgive you. I know you’ve said sorry but until you prove it I don’t believe you.” You used your teacher voice but kept it low enough that the few listening ears wouldn’t have the chance for any gossip. Jason nods, gulping. You continue to work in silence. When the two of you finished packing everything away, highly efficiently you might add, you knew you ought to talk to Jason about Damian. No matter how much his brother disliked him, you knew you needed to talk to him about Damian. You wanted his family to encourage his creativity as both an outlet and a means to relax and socialise. You casually leant against a desk and spoke up. 

“This might be too personal-” Jason perked up at your voice. “-but I was wondering if you could ask your family to encourage Damian’s art and creativity. I’m aware he doesn’t really have many friends-” Jason scoffs and you stare him down. He was a grown man. He needed to act like one.

Jason breaks the silence, “He has one friend, Jon. He lives in Metropolis. They see each other pretty regularly.” Jason shrugs. “Does he really need more?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You need to think like a teacher. Stop looking at him like your kid brother and see him as a child having trouble connecting with his peers. I want him to have someone to talk to while at school. Someone who is not me. And not you.” You add, even though you know Damian likely ignores his entire existence. “I’ve asked him to join the art club and go on Tuesday lunchtimes. I’m sure Ms Song has told you about how talented he is.”

“She hasn’t. You’re the only teacher who knows we’re related.” Jason shrugs again. His nonchalance was getting on your nerves. 

“What?”

“The school board and principal know, obviously. But we thought it would be better that his peers didn’t. We didn’t want him being accused of favouritism.” You suppose that makes sense. That could have isolated him further. Jason stepped towards you. “And you only know because of your bitching sessions.” Your eyes widen. “Yeah I know about those.” Jason taunts. 

This man. The nerve! And after you had graciously half-forgiven him. Surely Damian had not spilled the beans to his asshole brother. No. Jason probably found out by spying or some very nefarious plot. Why would he care anyway? Everyone else at this stupid school adored him. You were indulging his kid brother and helping him talk about his feelings. You were not in the wrong here. Jason was. And he was also far too close to you now. You don’t even know when he got so close. So close to one another that you could see every freckle. Every scar. Every pore on his gorgeous face. You were too close. And you knew you were flushing. You felt so hot. FROM REVITALISED LOATHING AND HATRED OF COURSE. Not from embarrassment. Or any other emotion. You steel your eyes. He would not know how much he affected you. Stupid smirking men do not get to win. You stand up straight and look him eye to eye. “Encourage Damian’s creativity. Your brother deserves more friends.” You dodge past Jason and grab your bag from under your desk. You motion for him to grab his shit. He does so and walks out, heading straight for the office to leave. Allowing you to lock up your classroom by yourself, in the empty school, not thinking about how close the two of you had been. Never thinking about his eyes or his hair or his lips. Peeling off his jumper and staring down the ugly brown coffee stain on your shirt, only thinking about the ways Jason had wronged you.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[foone]

The way it works is it's a surgery to make you immune to a bullet.

Note, that's not the same as being immune to bullets. You're only immune to a single shot: if someone shoots you twice, you're dead.

You can take the surgery again, though. The only real limitation is that you gotta wait 2-3 weeks between each time. But if you've got the money and the time, you can be as bulletproof as you want.

It doesn't "refill", by the way. Often when the surgery is explained people think it's like "a bullet a day" or "you can get shot once a year" or whatever. Nope! Once you've been shot it's just like you never had that surgery to begin with. If you want to "refill" that immunity? You have the surgery again.

No, there's no upper limit to how many times you can go, that we know of at least. There's one guy in Florida who has made it "his thing" to get the surgery as often as he can. He's currently up to about 50. Obviously there's some people online who've said they're gonna shoot this guy and lower his "record", just to be countrary.

Anyway I'm sure there'd be people who have even higher numbers (anyone who has "getting shot" as a major occupational risk, ie, politicians, soldiers, cops, and anyone doing any kind of residental survey in rural areas), but they only invented the surgery like three years ago, it's just simple math: you can't do much better than that guy.

The invention of the surgery hasn't done much to decrease gun sales, though. I mean, there's been a slight increase in people buying guns with larger capacity, for what I'd consider obvious reasons.

I did see an article suggesting that in the long run it might end up increasing the sale of guns. See their analysis is that two factors are going to drive up gun ownership:

1. People will be more willing to shoot at trespassers and thieves and such, because it'll be more like a warning shot: if they have some immunity, it won't be murder. So far that hasn't really happened as not that many people have the surgery yet. Although it's spreading fast, only major cities have surgeons trained in it, and often waits for surgery can be months long.

2. Conversely, people are going to be more likely to break in and rob and trespass if they know they can't be shot dead for it, because they got the surgery. There'll be a minor uptick in home invasions and such and this'll cause a big predictable panic among middle class homeowners who are now terrified some hooligan is gonna break into their house to steal their iPads. Thus they go throw money at security systems and cameras and guns.

So who knows at this point. If the cost (in both time and money) comes down, maybe it becomes super common for people to be so effectively invulnerable to guns that there's really no point in owning one?

I do agree with the common consensus that this is going to drive a big increase in crimes committed with knives and such. Why take a risk that your target might be immune?

Which reminds me of another thing to clarify because sometimes people online get this very wrong: it's only for bullets! You are not immune to getting hit by a car or poisoned or set on fire. Don't walk into traffic or anything, jesus.

Oh one last thing: there is a blood test that can tell if you have immunity, but it can't tell how many times you've had the surgery. You gotta figure that out yourself: so ask your doctor, search your emails, something. Every day I'm hearing from healthcare workers saying someone came in to get the blood test and it had to be explained to them that we can't tell how much protection you have: only if it's there or not. And I feel like a fool for having to say this, but REMEMBER to subtract any times you've got shot! (if you have been) Obviously!

EDIT: In light of recent events, people are sharing this post and arguing about it a lot, but let me be clear: grazes and small cuts do not count! The exact dividing line is too complicated to explain here (look up "circulatory shock" on Wikipedia), but basically if you don't end up with a big hole in you, the shot doesn't trigger the immunity.

That's how it works: you could have an ear blown clean off, and you'd still not trigger an immunity. So please stop spreading that idiotic conspiracy theory that a former president didn't have any immunity. You can barely run a high-school without being required to have immunity to hold the position, because what if someone shoots you? Come on! Of course he has immunity.

For all we know he's got some prototype experimental shit they use on president's that got him up to 200 in a couple days. There's endless rumors of the DoD funding billions in black budget items to that sort of thing, because of course. Who wouldn't want a way to make bulletproof soldiers? You don't think the soviets are pouring even more into it?

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love and Liabilities: Chapter Four (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: As you prepare for the impending trial and attempt to find ways to relieve your stress, the biggest stressor in your life has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back after a little hiatus! This is a bit of a shorter chapter to get me back into writing after a few months. I’m hoping to be updating a bit more regularly but I’m (sadly) growing even more busy & stressed, so I promise to do the best I can! As always I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think. My asks/dm’s are always open!

Tag List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @aggieslittleslut @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Present Day

The whooshing of the wind in your ears combined with the cool air filling your lungs fueled you to increase your pacing as you ran through the deserted park. It had been nearly a week since you reunited with Agatha, and your brain had been hellbent on torturing you ever since. Nothing could take your mind off the infuriating attorney, not even work. You had spent the past few days pouring over every word in the various documents Agatha presented during the pretrial conference, hoping to find something, anything really, to solidify your case.

It was times like this when you missed working in corporate law. Although you had only been a junior attorney at Stark & Strange, you had unlimited access to paralegals and attorneys at your disposal. Unfortunately, working for the government meant not only taking a significant pay cut, but also limiting your outsourcing. You didn’t regret your decision to leave the firm, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the perks.

Since burying yourself in piles of work proved useless, your only real escape from Agatha came from running. The familiar burning sensation began to fill your lungs as your body begged for a break, but you forced yourself to continue. Your legs felt heavier than when you first started, and as you rounded the corner of the trail you had to work twice as hard to not slow down. Even though you were growing tired, the rush of endorphins was a welcome change from the haunting memory of searing blue eyes burning holes into your own.

Agatha would be far too pleased to learn how much of your time and energy was being wasted trying to forget her. However, being the soul sucking succubus she was, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was already aware of the pain she was causing. A swell of anger suddenly overtook you, a feeling you had long grown familiar with when thinking of her, and you used it to finish the final stretch of your run. The thudding of your feet on the pavement along with the loud thumping of your heartbeat acting as a painful reminder of the woman you so desperately wanted to rid yourself of.

Swirls of scarlet, orange, and yellow painted the Manhattan skyline as the sun gradually rose over the city, and the quiet beeping of your phone from your back pocket signaled the end of your run. Nearing the end of the trail, you slowed your pace down to a steady walk, allowing yourself to do some breathing exercises in the process whilst checking your email. It was early enough in the morning that there wasn’t much for you to go through, but you knew it was bound to be yet another busy day.

You had timed your run to give yourself just enough time to head back to your apartment to get ready for the day and get to the office before the rest of your colleagues. The stress of the looming trial was becoming overwhelming, and you had to be prepared for whatever chaos Agatha would inevitably throw at you. Unfortunately that meant you were working nearly double the amount of hours than normal.

Luckily you were able to take a quick shower, find clean clothes in the back of your closet, and managed to get to work before anyone else had arrived. You would hopefully have an hour or two to yourself before you were eventually interrupted, and you intended to use every last possible second you could. As you strolled the corridor, you were tempted to stop to make yourself a coffee, but decided to get settled before adding caffeine to this situation.

Absentmindedly dropping your bag to the floor after you entered your office, you refocused your attention on reading a memo that one of your colleagues had left for you. Making mental notes of what needed to be addressed, you turned to open the blinds when you stopped dead in your tracks at what was in front of you.

Agatha Harkness sat in an armchair in the corner of your office, an amused expression painting her face. You nearly fell over at the sight of her, how did she get in here? The door was locked when you had arrived, wasn’t it?

Agatha, unaware of your current inner ramblings, took a sip of her coffee before repositioning herself, recrossing her legs as she gave you a disappointed look. “Your lack of situational awareness is truly astonishing. I could have been a murderer.”

Adrenaline continued to course through your body as your heart thumped loudly in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you ignored her sarcastic remarks as you leaned against your desk, attempting to calm down.

“What-what the hell are you doing in here?” You spluttered out, unsuccessfully trying to regain your composure.

The attorney frowned, as if that was an absurd question. “This is your office, is it not? I wasn’t sure at first, but the withering plants were a bit of a giveaway.”

Typical Agatha. They weren’t dying, were they? You made a mental note to ask your paralegal to water them a bit more.

Ignoring the jab, you took another deep breath, your body still on edge. “Do I even want to know how you got in here?”

Taking a moment to think over your words, she shook her head. “No. Now drink your coffee before the ice melts.”

It was then that you noticed the untouched cup of iced coffee on the edge of your desk. Narrowing your eyes at it, you gave her a suspicious glance. “How do I know you didn’t poison it?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, as if that was the most ridiculous thing to ask her and she didn’t just break into your office. “Honestly, dear. You’re far too paranoid this early in the morning. Drink. We both know how irritable you are without caffeine.”

When you refrained from grabbing the cup, Agatha huffed, her stormy blue eyes swirling in annoyance as she rose from her seat. Taking a step towards you until your legs were nearly touching, she snatched the cup, the silence in the room disrupted by the clanking sound of the ice swirling in the cup. Hovering over you, she used her free hand to grab yours, the soft feel of her touch briefly taking you back to a time where it would have been more welcomed.

Your breath hitched as the rich, musky scent of her expensive perfume washed over you, and you fought the temptation to look into her eyes. How many times had you found yourself in this exact same position with her, you mused lightly as your brain attempted to regain its ability to function. Agatha’s fingers intertwined with yours, as she leaned in even closer, her lips grazing your jawline and you closed your eyes, fighting against the urge to lean into her touch.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head. “No. This can’t happen again.”

Agatha pulled back, her eyebrows slightly raised. “What can’t happen again?”

Giving her a pointed look, you tried to ignore the feel of her fingers still interwoven with your own. “I don’t think we need to relive that mistake, do we?”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Agatha replied, swishing the cup of iced coffee as she lifted it up. “I seem to recall you rather enjoying yourself during that mistake, or was that someone else who pulled me into a closet and jumped me?”

“I did not jump you! You’re the one who came onto me,” you hissed as your irritation grew exponentially.

“Easy, tiger,” Agatha teased, raising the cup until the straw was nearly touching your lips. “I see the caffeine withdrawal is already kicking in.”

“Agatha…” you trailed off, ignoring your brain protesting that this would hurt even more than your last encounter.

Dropping your hand, Agatha gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head upwards until you were forced to meet her eyes.

“Sip,” Agatha murmured, raising the cup once more to your lips.

Her words were soft, but you both knew it wasn’t a request as much as a command. A part of you knew this was a mistake, that you couldn’t give into her yet again after being strong for so long. But then you looked into her eyes and found yourself getting lost in the fiery intensity she always seemed to carry. Logic and reason held no weight against the pleasure that was being at the mercy of Agatha Harkness.

Wrapping your lips around the straw, you lightly sucked, savoring the creamy, cold taste of the iced coffee on your tongue. Agatha’s eyes darkened at the sight; using one hand to brush your hair behind your shoulders while the other remained glued to your jaw, fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

“Good girl,” Agatha quietly praised, running her fingers through your hair, tugging lightly at the loose strands.

As you released the straw from your mouth, Agatha set the cup down, tightening her grip on your hair before capturing your lips in a kiss. Her lips were warm and gentle against your own, but it wasn’t long before she began nipping on your lower lip, biting down harder when you let out a whine. Moving forward, she pressed herself fully against you, while you instinctively wrapped your arms around her waist. Her tongue expertly sought out your own, and it felt like she was trying to get every drop of coffee from your mouth.

Panting, you were the first to break the kiss, tilting your head as Agatha proceeded to pepper persistent kisses down your jawline, each leaving you more breathless than the last.

“Agatha…” you whimpered, the last bit of self control slipping away even as you tried to hold onto it. “We can’t do this again.”

The attorney chuckled softly against your skin, tickling you ever so slightly in the process. She took a moment to look up at you then, with her ever blue eyes hazy with want and perfectly swollen red lips, and you remembered a moment in time where this had been easier. It was almost too easy to forget the pain of the past when she looked at you in that special way; as if she saved those intimate, sweet glances just for you. You used to believe you were able to bring out a different side of her than the rest of the world saw; that you understood who she was at her core.

Having her here now made the whole situation even worse than you previously remembered. It complicated things, and if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was unnecessary complications. You found it difficult to remember the seemingly obvious reasons why you left her all those years ago when she was standing within your reach; the light that once dimmed in her eyes was once again ablaze. Gone were the demons of the past, in its place was the woman you had once fallen in love with.

Unfortunately, you were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard chatter from the hallway; your colleagues had arrived for the day. Agatha’s head tilted at the sound, and the moment was broken as she took a step back.

Clearing her throat, she folded her arms across her chest. “I was hoping you had given more thought to dropping the case, that’s why I dropped by.”

Annoyance took over any feelings of longing that had been threatening to emerge, and you frowned. “You do realize that this could be perceived as intimidation, right? That on top of trespassing could mean you potentially lose any upper hand in this trial that you believe you possess.”

Agatha fully cackled, which only served to enrage you further. She picked up a few files that she must have previously set on the desk. “You always were so full of pride and ambition, dear. I’m not surprised to see it still has a hand in clouding your judgment. It’s a pity. I always thought you had a lot of potential.”

Flabbergasted, you shook your head. You should have known better. Only Agatha would be capable of attempting to manipulate you over your shared past to better serve her motive. Shoving past her, you finally opened the blinds to your office, the once sunny morning replaced with dark gray skies as rain furiously poured down. As you turned around to tell Agatha to get out, you were unsurprised to find she was already gone. Typical.

Settling down at your desk, you opened your laptop and started going through your checklist for the day when you noticed something on the edge of your desk; a file folder. You quickly realized Agatha must have left it behind by accident, which was strange; it wasn’t like her to do something like that. It was unclear what drove you to opening the file, but looking back you’d blame it on your own morbid curiosity. Inside there were over a dozen pages of what appeared to be hospital records for two people, one being Wanda Maximoff.

As you settled in to read, your eyes drifted to the neglected iced coffee. A part of you wanted to throw it away, but the caffeine driven side of your brain led you to grab it. After all, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Flipping the page over as you sipped, you paused as you actually tasted the coffee for the first time without distraction.

This is your exact coffee order. Iced coffee, extra ice, one pump of vanilla and a splash of oatmilk. After all of these years she still remembered, remembered it perfectly.

You weren’t sure why you hated that as much as you did, but it burns in your mind as you keep reading and drinking, trying to wash her taste out of your mouth.

[kallietell]

AITAH for Telling my Roommate She Got Fat? (WG Fiction)

*This post is written in the style of a reddit 'Am I The Asshole' Post, a forum where people can get advice from strangers about whether they were in the wrong in a given situation. I hope you enjoy!*

AITAH for telling my roommate how fat she got?

Throwaway account cause I don’t want my roommate to see this, but the title pretty much says it all. I’ve been living with this girl, let's call her Ellie, for about 3 years. She was overall a pretty good roommate (never really had anyone over, always did her half of the chores, etc.) but the kinds of habits she's developed lately are driving me up the wall. 

I don’t mind sharing my space (duh, I have a roommate), but to me, sharing a space should be 50/50, it should actually be EVEN. My roommate and I have a good amount of storage in our kitchen, but between the cabinets, drawers, fridge, and freezer, Ellie has slowly taken up more and more space with the insane amount of food she's been buying. We’re at the point where 90% of the stuff in the kitchen is hers, and it's literally so annoying to have to search through her mountains of junk food just to find my veggie straws. 

There's always piles of food everywhere, I swear she gets deliveries twice a day, and it's not that I mind the mess as much as I mind the fact that I barely even have any snacks and I have nowhere to store them. 

I was pushed past my limit two days ago when I opened a cabinet and a box of cookies literally fell on my head from how full it was, and I wrote her an email (we always have serious financial/practical conversations over email to leave a paper trail) explaining that her situation was getting out of control and she needed to be more considerate. 

Yes, I was a little mad when I wrote it, but everything I said was true and I feel like holding it back would’ve just been passive-aggressive. She got super upset after reading it and told me I was fat-shaming her. Was I wrong for telling her the truth and letting her know how I feel? 

Edit (11/08): Everyone keeps commenting that they need to see the letter, so I pasted it below:

Ellie,

I’m writing this over email because we’ve had this conversation a million times and nothing’s changed, so if it keeps being a problem I'm sending this documentation straight to the landlord and letting him know you’ll be paying a higher split of the rent. 

I wanted to make you aware that your super-double-chocolate-chunk-whatever cookies just fell out of the cabinet when I opened it and almost hit me in the eye, and this wouldn't be happening if every cabinet wasn't crammed full of all the junky food you’re always stuffing your face with. I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but you so clearly have a problem. When you moved in you weighed like 100 pounds and then you started eating like an absolute pig and just blew up. When my mom came to visit last month she didn't even recognize you, she asked me ‘Where's your roommate’ after you waddled out of the room with your bags of chips. 

You’re actually such a disgusting slob, just a few years ago you were thin and fit and now you sit on the couch with your blubbery gut hanging out and eat until you can't even move. Watching you explode while you gorge yourself on all the snacks you fill our kitchen with honestly makes me sick, it motivates me to go harder in the gym so I don't end up a flabby blob like you. 

Every part of your body is like a warning sign: your chubby, swollen cheeks and double chin, your pudgy arms and hands, the way your thighs are getting so thick you can’t even squeeze yourself into the loveseat anymore, it's just humiliating for you. Or it would be if you cared about anything other than stuffing your face with like 5,000 calories every day. You're actually starting to look pregnant, it's like your entire body was inflated with fat. 

You have to be real with yourself, cause the denial just isn't cute. You’re a fucking whale, and I tried to be patient with you cause you’re clearly going through something, but I’m sick of you waddling around this apartment and taking up all the space in the kitchen. Just because you take up so much more space doesn't mean your food needs to. 

I suggest you diet, immediately, but since I know you probably can’t, at least start keeping your snacks in your own room. Or like I said, I'm telling Tim. And you know he already reached out last month because of the downstairs neighbors' complaints. I covered for you and didn't tell him that all the stomping is just your fat ass waddling around like usual, but if this doesn't get fixed, I’m snitching about that too. 

I’m really just trying to help you, cause if I got that fat that fast I would want someone to tell me too. Watching you try to cram yourself in all your old clothes is just painful, and the bigger you get the more ridiculous you look, everyone thinks so. When my boyfriend was over to watch movies and you were getting a pizza (as usual), he asked why you never wear clothes that fit. It was so mortifying to watch you jiggle just from walking across the room. Your entire gut was hanging out and your whole body was wobbling like crazy, you looked like such a cow. 

Every time I see you you're fatter and every time I see the kitchen there's more junk food piled in the cabinets and on the counters. You need to get yourself under control. I literally got injured cause of how fat and greedy you are. Either stop stuffing your bloated face, pay a higher share of the rent, or just move into a buffet so you can eat yourself into immobility like I know you probably want to. 

Your enormous, fatty body is my worst nightmare and it should be yours too, but instead, you just keep eating and eating and eating. I bet you're eating right now while you read this. Wipe the chocolate off your face, get up, and reorganize the fucking kitchen. 

-Courtney 

Edit (11/10): Everyone voting YTA after I posted the letter needs to learn to read. I didn't ask if the letter was mean, I asked if I’m the asshole for telling her how fat she got. I constantly comment on her weight and give little hints that she’s getting big (in order to help her), but I’ve never told her just how big. I just thought maybe it was rude to describe in detail just how far she’s gorged herself into obesity, but I don't even care anymore, she needed to hear it.

*This was a little experimental flash-fiction in a really fun style that I loved:) For more fiction stories, weight gain POVs, and even weight gain audios, you can check out my Patreon, Thanks so much for reading!*

patreon.com/KallieTell

[annisassintchaska]

Jealousy: Toto Wolff x Black! Reader ft. Christian Horner

TW: Violence, Cursing

In the Formula 1 paddock, Toto had been known for working mostly alone, not asking for help unless it was a last option. So imagine the look on the media and other faces when he was spotted walking in next to a beautifully short, black haired woman as he appeared to be listening to her rant from notes on her IPad. At this point the whole paddock of drivers and a few Team Principals went into chaos trying to get to know her in a personal way yet they remained unsuccessful as Toto kept her locked away in his office.

For weeks on end, the paddock watched them arrive and disappear behind the walls of the garage only to be seen when it was time to leave. The men were going out of their minds trying to find some way to get the woman alone but it was very unfortunate that she could never even be found.

Today was scheduled to be Media day where all the drivers were packed into one room to be ‘interrogated’. “So Lewis and George. I’m sure you both already know the question I have in mind. Toto has been spotted recently with a beautiful girl who we supposed works with you all. Do you by any chance have any tea to spill with us? Even a little would be fine?” A female reporter asked eagerly causing the two Mercedes drivers to laugh. “Yeah, Y/n, she’s Toto’s personal assistant. She’s been working with him for about one and a half years now; However Toto keeps her hidden from everyone. We think he’s in love with her but he denies it and for that we gave her the nickname ‘Lady Wolff’” Lewis explained causing excitement among the other drivers.

A couple days later, Toto had Y/n enter through the back while he came through the front, only to be met by Christian himself. “Forger Wolff, nice to see you. Haven’t you seen my emails asking for your assistance number or even her email?” He asked suggestively. “And I responded saying that you should let it go because she’s uninterested in seeing or hearing from you?” Toto responded perplexed. “Can’t you just please give it a rest?” Toto asked irritated at the shorter man. “Oh c’mon Toto, that’s not fair! It’s not nice to gatekeeper and not share! And besides, maybe she would prefer a guy with a wining team and man who knows how to build and upgrade a perfect car” Christian whined and taunted which led to the furious reaction from the taller man.

Toto became infuriated as he grabbed Christian by his throat, pulling him up into the air with one arm as he held him up against the wall choking him out, while his other hand held his file bag.

“Now you listen to me Horner, I know what you’re intentions are and frankly I don’t care, but if I ever hear of or see you anywhere near my assistant, I will tear you apart piece by piece down to your very last fucking atom. Do you understand me?!” Tot asked angrily making the British native nod rapidly begging silently for release.

The cameras had caught everything with audio and Y/n had to be called out to the scene where she screamed in panic. “Toto, you can’t do that. You’re going to kill him!” She yelled out at her boss, seeing he victim turning purple in the face. “Let him go and come inside m, are you insane?! You’re twice his size, you can’t be doing this you giant!” Y/n yelled while prying her boss’ hand away from his opponent who started coughing wildly as soon as he was freed. Everyone watched on in amazement as the 5’2 woman dragged her giant of a boss away from the scene and pushed him into the office before entering and closing the door. Continuing forward everyone went back to work.

In the office, Y/n messaged her boss’ shoulders in an attempt to calm him down as he grumbled on about the fight until she decided to advise him. “Mr. Wolff you don’t have to be this upset. You should just try to ignore him” The brown-eyed woman stated as she his mood.

“That’s the thing schatz, I can’t ignore him when he’s inquiring to make advances towards anything that I already claimed!” Toto yelled as he got up, pacing the room. “What?” Y/n asked, confused as to how she was mixed in with something he ‘claimed’. “Y/n…I know this might come as a shock to you, but I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to say it and then he came along and made suggestions towards you so I got angry. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you”. Toto explained shyly while blushing from being under the young woman’s gaze.

Y/n smiled as she got up from her chair and walked towards her boss, pulling him down into an earth-shattering kiss that turned into a make out session. She pulled away from the kiss giggling cutely while Toto blushed, feeling like a school boy when Y/n said “I’m in love with you too”.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

sorry if this is weirdly specific but can you write about little House being fussy and acting up and breaking things to try and make Wilson mad and Wilson gets a little annoyed but realises House is acting up to get attention and also test how safe he is and he gently snuggles house and comforts him and makes it clear he loves him even when he's being fussy and acting up

Hope this fits what you were looking for! I really don't mind when requests are specific, it gives me a better picture on what I'm writing! Don't be afraid to give detail, it's your request after all :)

-----

Word Count: 1212

Summery: House has woken up regressed and chosen violence. Ever since Wilson found out about House's regression a few months ago, he's been, oddly enough, an angel, and now he's suddenly changed. It's only after House breaks something that he figures out why.

-----

Clack… Clack… Clack… Clack…

There was no greater background noise for answering important emails than the sound of toy cars being thrown against the wall, truly. Wilson had been attempting to write this single email to request additional funding for the department for the last hour, but he couldn’t focus on phrasing when a regressed House had decided that today would be the day he would cause as many problems as possible.

It had started bright and early at breakfast when House had refused every single food option Wilson offered, demanding fast food and candy. While House was normally a picky eater, the absolute refusal of anything was something that had never happened before. From there began the perpetual sulk he’d had all day. He didn’t listen when Wilson told him to clean up his toys and started a yelling match instead, he drew on the walls, thankfully with washable markers, and then when Wilson confronted him he played dumb. He was five years old, definitely old enough to know better, but then he acted like he had suddenly forgotten how to use a washcloth and made Wilson clean it up. He “accidentally” spilled his water twice before Wilson got him a cup with a lid, and then he loosened the lid on that to spill it again. Wilson was at his wit’s end, and it was only two o’clock.

Clack.. Clack… Clack… Clack…

“Hey, buddy?” He called, trying not to let his irritation bleed into his tone, “Can we play with the cars on the floor? I’m trying to get some work done!”

Clack… Clack… Clack… Clack…

“If you can’t play with the cars properly then we’re going to have to put them away!”

The car-throwing mercifully stopped, Wilson let out a relieved sigh. One small victory.

CLACK, one last car, whipped at the wall instead of lazily thrown. 

CRASH. The sound of something heavy hitting the floor and glass shattering.

Wilson cursed under his breath and jumped up to run to the living room. House was sitting on the floor, eyes wide and arm frozen mid-throw, and a few feet away was a picture frame laying face-down on the ground, surrounded by broken glass and an innocent-looking green car. It was a picture frame that he recognized immediately.

“My diploma!” He yelled. Hours worth of frustration finally bubbled over; hours of not listening, not cooperating, whining, tantrums, and now this. He rushed to pick up the frame and check over the diploma, looking for any tears or scratches. There didn’t seem to be any, thank god, but the frame was completely unsalvageable. The glass was completely shattered and the frame was snapped where the corner hit the hardwood. He liked that frame! It wasn’t expensive, but it was the frame his mother had given it to him after he’d graduated med school.

He set the diploma safely on a side-table, then turned slowly to House, sadness over the frame turning into anger. “Why did you do that!? What’s been going on with you today? You’re always so well-behaved, and now you’re throwing tantrums and— and breaking my stuff? Why!?”

House looked like a deer in headlights, completely stunned. Wilson had never yelled at him before.

“I-I…”

“You know what, I don’t really want to hear it right now, House. Go to timeout, please.” Wilson expected him to fight again, to only go if he was dragged kicking and screaming, but to his surprise, House just nodded and got up to sit on the entryway bench without a word, not so much as a whine. Huh. 

As he went to get the broom and began sweeping up the glass shards, he kept replaying the why over and over again. House had been so well-behaved when he was little ever since Wilson had found out about his regression a few months ago. He was quiet, he listened, he rarely ever threw a fit or cried, and today it had been like a switch flipped. Wilson went over the week in his head. As far as he knew work at the hospital hadn’t been any more stressful than usual, in fact, House had complained the other night about his recent cases being too easy. He hadn’t mentioned any increase in pain, either.

He dumped the glass shards into the trash and put the frame beside it. He could see House un-subtly trying to watch him from time-out. His expression was nervous and almost studying. Maybe he just wasn’t thinking House enough. 

Then, something clicked. It was a test. 

Wilson felt stupid. Of course! He walked over and knelt down in front of him.

“House, do you want to tell me what happened today?” He asked gently.

House clammed up and stubbornly avoided his eyes.

“Can I tell you what I think happened? And then you can tell me if I’m right?”

He shrugged.

“Look at me, please.” Wilson asked, and House reluctantly obeyed. “I think… That you were testing me. You wanted to see how I would react if you were bad, right?”

House’s eyes went a little wide.

“You wanted to see if I would get angry at you.” It made so much sense now that he was saying it out loud. House was testing his limits. He didn’t know if Wilson would still want to look after him if he wasn’t being a “good kid”, so of course, being House, he needed to run an experiment to test his hypothesis.

“…An’ you did.” House mumbled.

“You’re right, I was upset with you. I didn’t know why you weren’t listening and when you broke something that was important to me, I was frustrated. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you anymore, and that doesn’t mean you’re a bad kid, House.”

“I didn’ mean to break it…”

“I know you didn’t. But I would still love you even if you did. That’s not how we deal with big feelings, we don’t get to break things because we’re upset, but I understand why you did it now. I’m sorry for yelling at you, and I’m sorry you didn’t feel safe with me.”

House just stared at him, taking everything in and searching Wilson’s face for any signs he might be lying. “Okay. M’sorry for being bad an’ for breaking the picture…”

Wilson smiled. “Thank you for apologizing, I’m proud of you. Do you want a hug?”

He nodded, and Wilson wrapped his arms around him, squeezing tightly. They sat like that for about twenty seconds until awkwardly leaning over the bench started to hurt his knees, and he got up. “Why don’t we go to the couch instead? Jimmy’s got old bones.”

“M’kay,” House grinned, then stood up and hobbled towards the couch. “Can I have my Gameboy?”

“Sure, buddy.” He grabbed the Gameboy from the dining table and gave it to him, then sat down. House immediately leaned against him, propping his bad leg up on a pillow and turning on Super Mario World. “Oh-ho! Cuddly, are we?”

“Mm.” House furiously jammed on the buttons and pouted when he died. “This level’s stupid.”

Wilson chuckled and gently smoothed out House’s scruffy hair. “I love you, House.”

He stilled against him, and Mario met his cruel fate to a koopa. “I know.”

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

My Ko-Fi is finished yaaaay!

I combined my two "brands" and I'm open for business!

Hi, I'm Maria and I'm a digital artist, video editor and writer, who does vtubing on the side (variety, even though I'm focusing way too much on gaming for now ^^'>)

If you are interested in:

Basic edits: (filters & colour correction, skin-smoothening, removing backgrounds, etc.)

Complicated edits (photomanipulation, special effects on cosplay photos (like elemental powers or turning you to a monster), etc.)

Thumbnails for your videos

Graphics for your websites, social media and mobile (*) (buttons, banners, icons, insta highlights, dividers, gifs, mobile lockstcreen & wallpaper etc.)

Proofreading any text (essay, book, script, etc.) up to 100K words in either English or Greek. (you can order this twice or more if your words are more than 100K btw)

Someone to write lore for your vtuber or your OC (illustrated, DnD, videogame, film)

feel free to take a look at my Ko-fi services! ^^ There are more examples of my work on graphics, on my gallery too, if you would like to check those out. (sidenote: I do not design for print at the moment, only for digital spaces)

Unfortunately I couldn't share my horror work there, too, because I'm worried about Ko-fi's sensitivity to gore, however I am open to making and writing horror and nsfw works for you. (If ko-fi prevents me from sending you your horror or nsfw order due to the content, I will send it by email, filters won't stop me from creating and sharing in my main genre of choice. =3=)

As for how I work, I work with you. You will be shown samples of the work, during the process so that we can make sure you like the stage it is each time. However, I am working on multiple things at the same time, so I would appreciate if you replied to those messages within 48 hours from the time you received them.

.

(*) I wanted to make some fandom-based graphics for social media and mobile lockscreens and wallpapers, but those will come at a later time and for free, on my shop, so stay tuned for that. Fandoms I want to make stuff for are: Genshin Impact, Reverse: 1999, Nikke: The Goddess of Victory, Visual Kei musicians

Thank you for your time! I hope I can be of service to youuuu~! Have a great daaayy~!

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | July 7th-14th 2024 ~ Podfics

Had to split the rec cause it got too big!

Podfic

[podfic] The Wrath of Abuela by Cass_Caelis/ @cassiopeiacaelis // fic by scarletmanuka (S4, Getting Together | 20-30min | Teen): Whilst on his second date with Ana, Eddie's abuela sees them and confronts Eddie, thinking he's stepping out on Buck.

🔥 [podfic] from the ground up by half_bakedboy/ @half-bakedboy // fic by eddiesdiaz/ @eddiesdiaz (Getting Together, Developping Relationship | 45-60min | Teen): If he’s honest, Eddie gets why Buck filed the lawsuit. He does. He understands the hopelessness, the feeling you’re losing all control, like you’re sinking, drowning, desperate for a way out. He knows because it’s the same way he felt when he enlisted. That doesn’t mean it hurts any less when Buck leaves him, though.

🔥 You Ain't Never Had A Friend Like Me (Podfic) by ToughPaperRound/ @toughpaperround // fic by mansikka (Canon Divergent, Genie!Hildy | 3.5-4h | Mature): 🎶I can show you the world, shining, shimmering, splendid. Tell me, Eddie, now when did you last let your heart decide?🎶 Or. What if Eddie has a Hildy that is occupied by a genie?

🔥 Leaf Day [podfic] by ToughPaperRound // fic by rowan_wood/ @transboybuckley (Canon Divergent, Different First Meeting | 30-45min | Teen): municipal events make for the best meet-cutes, don't they?

🔥 what a man gotta do? (to be your last good night and your first good day) [PODFIC] by ToughPaperRound // fic by diazevan/ @diaz-evans (Getting Together | 10-20min | Teen): He is gonna woo Eddie. He is gonna woo him so fucking hard that the other man has no other choice but to be his boyfriend and declare his eternal love for him. Buck is gonna be that good. or Buck is the best boyfriend and he doesn't even know it.

🔥 Accidentally in Love (PODFIC) by ToughPaperRound // fic by tabbytabbytabby/ @tabbytabbytabby (Jealous Eddie, Getting Together | 10-20min | Teen): Eddie sets Buck up on a blind date with a friend of his. Buck goes thinking it's what Eddie wants. It doesn't work out, with the date quickly realizing that Buck is in love with Eddie. As the two glow closer as friends, Eddie assumes they're dating and is left to deal with the growing realization that his feelings for Buck might not be a platonic as he thought.

🔥might have to take a loss (PODFIC) by ToughPaperRound // fic by waferkya/ @oursisthewinter (Post-4x08, Getting Together | 1-1.5h | Teen): Ana is perfectly nice and Eddie is… being a moron. He holds her hand. He’s kissed the corner of her mouth a few times. His hands have wandered a little, but strictly above clothes. It’s like every time he and Ana end up somewhere alone after dark, Eddie feels like the poor woman’s father is standing in the corner with a baseball bat and a very significant expression on his face. Or: Eddie is having intimacy issues with Ana—as in, he doesn't want to be intimate with her at all and he doesn't understand why. Christopher is kind of upset about the whole thing. Buck just wants his favourite Diazes to be happy.

🔥[Podfic] With A Little Help From My Friends by Cass_Caelis/ @cassiopeiacaelis // fic by @extasiswings (Eddie&the PTA, Getting Together | 20-30min | Teen): “You know…several of us parents get together once, maybe twice a month or so. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. I can add you to the email chain.” Not for the first time that day, Eddie’s surprised. It’s not that he’s opposed, more that the invitation is unexpected. He’s not particularly social—when he is it’s with the team or with Buck or with his family, all of them in each other’s houses, in each other’s lives both at work and away from it. Outside of them… It occurs to him that he’s never really known how to make friends. [Or: Eddie makes friends outside of work and realizes that Buck might not, in fact, be just a friend]

Just Tell Better Lies (and Keep Your Mouth to Yourself) [Podfic] by blackglass/ @blackestglass // fic by @hmslusitania (Secret Relationship | 20-30min | Teen): Good news: after years of pining, Buck and Eddie have finally gotten together! Mixed news: being together will require a department investigation of some kind, so Bad news: they can't tell anyone yet. Worst news: Buck is the world's least accomplished liar.

🔥Finding Home [Podfic] by blackglass //fic by @slycopersicum-in-disguise (Post-S5 | Getting Together | 20-30min | Teen): "Buck!" Eddie yelled as he turned his key in the loft door and dumped his suitcase inside. He immediately got a startled "Eddie?" in response, and thank God for that because if Buck had been out running errands it would have been the last damn straw. But he was here, where Eddie needed him to be, and pounding down the stairs from the stupid platform thing he had instead of a normal bedroom. "Is everything OK?" "No! You won't answer your goddamn phone and my house is full of bees."

oh shit...are we in love? [Podfic] by blackglass // fic by @lilythesilly (Getting Together | 1-10min | General): buck: lol eddie brought some of chris’s extra valentine’s cards to the station. they’re lego themed. maddie: i know! chim just showed me they’re super cute. question: what kind of candy did you get with yours? buck: fun dip. why maddie: interesting. chim got a mini hershey bar. buck: what’s that supposed to mean. maddie. what does that mean MADDIE

[momo-de-avis]

The reason I was so incensed and wanted to scream the other day was because during a company meeting I tried to bring up a subject which was the absence of a colleague (the guy who pays us) who went on vacation but didn't warn us but the team leader instantly, with a smirk, interrupted me and said "yes he did he always does". I gave her the benefit of the doubt and said that if an email was sent out it did not reach me. She then said "he always sends an email, you just didn't read it" and then immediately turned away, everyone else interrupted me further and the conversation continued and this wasn't even what I wanted to say, it was something tangentially related but not that. For perspective. Minutes earlier someone mentioned a company wide sent email and someone else said they didn't receive it. Do you think she got the same dismissive reply? Of course not. She got concern. Whereas I was given a nasty smirk and dismissiveness and immediately labelled a liar.

I stewed in so much rage for the next five minutes I actually whispered to a colleague that I was just going to abandon the meeting cause I'd never felt so disrespected. And I could tell the team leader was watching me the whole time and actively ignoring me. She could see I'd not finished and she turned away and actively just ignored me because for some fucking reason in the last two months she decided to hate my guts for no reason. The colleague I whispered was the one who put his hand on my arm and actually said that I wasn't done talking.

Since the subject they were discussing was halfway through I said "just finish what you're saying and I'll say what I was meant to ask, cause it doesn't make sense for me to interrupt right now but yeah I didn't even say what I wanted" and then the team leader has the audacity to say, in a high pitch mocking voice "nOw FiNiSh wHaT yOu'Re SaYiNg".

The thing that really pissed me, and this is what made me stew in rage, was that early this month the guy who pays us went on vacation but we didn't know. Someone found out and informed us on the group chat. Chaos ensued cause we hadn't been paid. At the time this was unravelling I was in training for another company, in a different city, and asked someone else to go ahead and ask what should we do but we were joking around saying it should be someone the team leader loved. The thing was everyone refused to do it because they were genuinely afraid. So I went ahead and asked.

But in the meeting, when I mentioned that the guy went on holiday and didn't warn anyone, suddenly the same people that had gone into chaos said "actually he did send an email" so I just blew up at that moment. I don't know why everyone ganged up on me but I just went "this dude went twice on holidays, the first time he sent an email, the second time he didn't, and I don't know why everyone here is saying he did when about a month ago you guys were the ones panicking and refusing to ask what do we do and I had to be the one to go ahead and ask cause everyone refused".

Literally everyone in that meeting made me a fucking liar while the team leader mocked me like some fucking school girl.

That was the moment I decided I'm done with this shit and after January I'm putting my life in order and I'm getting tf out of this place. I cane home in tears if rage. I dissed a dear friend for doing this to me and her excuse was she misunderstood everything. Yeah sure fucking whatever.

I like my colleagues but I work with a bunch of cowards. All I wanted to ask was what is the appropriate procedure when the guy is on vacation and we have not been paid yet (couldn't even formulate the full question cause those people can't have a normal conversation).

The whole meeting was focused on one dude (save for a very serious matter that did need addressing at the end) who the team leader has the hots for and everyone knows. The favouritism is obvious though fuck me if I understand why she decided to hate my guts out of the blue. Literally did nothing to her.

[mabelstone]

Third Base

matt stone x reader

summary: part three of Professor Stone.

words: 1714

warnings: oral sex (m receiving), brief fingering.

note: THIS IS 18+ i finally decided to quit blue balling you all. i haven't properly written smut before so i hope its okay xx pls give me feedback in my asks

if you haven't read previous parts, here are parts one and two.

Part Three.

It’d been about 5 days since you started receiving private tutoring from your professor. To say the very least, the tension had grown thicker with every hour spent together, the flirty comments flowing freely with no discretion. The thing that solidified your crush was when he stood behind your chair, arms on either side of the desk, taking the pen from your hands and correcting your work. His chin lightly brushing the top of your head as he explained where you went wrong, the smell of his cologne going straight to your core.

In your previous session, he confided in you about the situation with his ex-wife and how she’d made the last 3 months of his life torture. She wouldn’t let him see his kids often and even kept tabs on his location. This resulted in the two of you sharing a hug that lasted a bit too long to be considered friendly, not that anyone was complaining. His large arms cocooned you in warmth, causing a feeling you’d never expect a man twice your age to conjure. The poor guy couldn’t catch a break, and certainly didn’t have time to get laid. He was clearly pent up and so sexually frustrated.

As you finished the quiz he prepared for you, and he was typing away at emails on his computer. You’d dreamt about him for the past two nights and didn’t know how much longer you could pretend your vibrator was him, especially when he was only in arms reach every afternoon. That’s how you ended up here, deciding to say fuck it and make a move that could either benefit you both, or get you kicked out of his class and possibly the entire university. You placed a hand on his thigh, tracing light circles into the material of his jeans. You heard his breath hitch, and he stopped typing. With your eyes glued on him, you slowly moved your hand higher up his thigh, watching the way his jaw clenched.

“Is this okay, sir?” You bit your lip as breathed through his nose, nodding in response. You grabbed one of his hands and moved it up to grab your breast. He finally turned his head, looking at you, then your lips, then your breast that fit perfectly in his hand. “Fuck,” he practically whimpered, squeezing the soft flesh harder. You placed your hand on his hardening cock, palming him through his jeans. He groaned, grabbing your jaw with his other hand, and smashing your lips together in desperation. You let out a little squeal when he grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap, grabbing your ass through your skirt. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, finally discovering how his lips tasted. He tasted like spearmint, and his lips were softer than you could have ever fathomed. Your lips moved in sync, Professor Stone deepening the kiss, placing one of his hands into the back of your hair, pulling you impossibly closer.

He pulled away briefly, shoving two fingers into your mouth for you to suck. You wrapped your lips around his long digits, hollowing out your cheeks and swirling your tongue around them. His eyes grew dark and hooded, his mouth falling slack before he roughly pulled you back onto his mouth. He slipped your panties to the side, teasing your entrance before slowly sliding one finger in. You let out a delighted purr at the sudden feeling, clenching around him. He slowly moved his finger in and out, before ramming both in, causing you to gasp loudly. You bounced on his fingers, detaching your lips from his to rest your forehead on his shoulder, breathing heavily. He continued to finger-fuck you at devilish pace, leaving hot, wet kisses all over your neck.

“Professor,” you panted, lifting your head back to his eye level. “I wanna suck your cock.”

He groaned at your words, his cock leaking precum all over his briefs. He nodded fast, pulling his fingers out and sucking your wetness off them. Your pussy throbbed at the sight, quickly pulling yourself off his lap and unbuckling his belt. You made quick work of unzipping his jeans, gawking at the large tent that had grown in his briefs. “C-can I do it under your desk?” You asked shyly, oddly embarrassed by your request.

“Is that a turn on for you?” He teased, running his fingers through your hair as you got on your knees before him, backing into the space under his desk. A dark blush flooded your cheeks as you nodded, looking up at him doe eyed. “Of course you have a teacher fetish, I should’ve seen it coming.”

You gave him a stern look and he threw his hands up in defence. “Don’t ruin this, you’ve clearly got a student fetish.” He rolled his eyes and you pouted, causing him to bend down a place a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Sorry,” he said, running his thumb over your bottom lip. He sat back and you pushed yourself up with your toes, pressing a single kiss to the thin cotton constricting his throbbing length. You placed your fingers under the waistband of his briefs, slowly pulling them down to reveal his pretty, thick cock. Like, painfully thick. You gulped before looking into his eyes and licking a long stripe from his base to tip, his long fingers grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“May I, professor?” You asked innocently, looking up at him through long lashes, giving him a few slow pumps as you licked his precum off your lips. His cock so large in your hand that your fingers couldn’t even touch.

“Please,” he whimpered, the noise going straight to your heat, the pool in your knickers only growing wetter. With that, you wrapped your mouth around the tip, circling your tongue around it for a moment, before slowly drawing the rest of his length into your mouth. “Jesus Christ,” he cursed, one hand in your hair, the other gripping the desk in front of him. You hollow your cheeks and increase your pace, feeling his grip tighten in your hair.

“Look at me,” he commanded darkly, his lip caught in his teeth as he pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail. He pushed you down slowly, making you take the lead and force his whole length in. You sped up again, your nose smashing into his pubic bone each time you bobbed up and down. The back of his cock continually hitting your throat, causing you to gag around him. You watched as he threw his head back, spewing a string of curse words.

“Professor?” You both heard from outside, a small knock on the door. Your eyes widened up at him, his cock still between your lips.

“Shhh,” he looked down at you, bringing his pointer finger to his lips like a parent shushing their child. He cleared his throat before calling out, “yeah, come in.”

You pulled him out of your mouth, causing him to grab your head roughly and place your mouth around it again.

“Sorry for stopping by so late, sir, I was hoping to catch you.” A male voice echoed through the theatre, approaching his desk. “I just really needed to ask you about the assessment. I don’t understand this question at all.”

“What, your emails don’t work?” He taunted the student. You dug your nails into his calf as a warning to watch his tone, slowly pulling your mouth off him. “I-I’m joking, what part doesn’t make sense?” You smirked, resuming your work. He explained the question to the student while running his fingers through your hair, pausing occasionally to compose himself. You reached a hand up to gently play with his balls, causing his knee to jerk up and hit the table. You stifled a laugh.

“Are you okay, sir?” The student asked, and you wished so badly you could see his face.

“Oh, yeah, I uh, I think I’m coming down with something.” He lied, forcing your head down to take all of him in once again. You slipped a hand into your drenched panties, circling your clit as you quickened your pace around your professor. You moaned softly, your professor coughing to drown the sound before the student noticed. As the student continued talking, the older man before him mimicked your old trick and ‘accidentally’ knocked a book onto the floor. He bent down to get it, glancing at you touching yourself under his desk. Your cheeks were rosy, brows knitted together in pleasure, and he nearly came just from the sight of it.

“How about you go grab your laptop for me and I’ll quickly type up a cheat sheet for you, okay?” He offered the student, earning himself some brownie points with you. The student thanked him, hurrying out of the theatre. Once he was gone, Professor Stone looked down at you, euphoria glazing your eyes.

“Fuck,” he whined. “Keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.” You blinked away tears, adding pressure to your clit, your breath quickening as you approached your peak, spit dribbling down the sides of your mouth as you continued to work the older man. “That’s it, pretty girl, cum for me.”

Pretty girl. That tipped you over the edge, the warmth in your stomach bubbling over as you climaxed hard, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you whimpered loudly.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, warm ribbons of cum shooting into your mouth and down your throat. Your pace around his cock was unrelenting and cruel, like you were trying to suck him dry. You swallowed his cum with his tip still in the back of your throat. He winced as the overstimulation became painful, pulling your mouth off with a loud pop. Your lips were swollen and flushed, saliva dripping down onto your chin. You looked up at him with tired eyes, panting rapidly.

“Did I do okay?” You asked him breathlessly, wiping your saliva off your mouth with the back of your hand. He helped you up from the desk, pulling you into his lap.

He brushed your unruly hair behind your ears, kissing you gently. “If your math skills were half as good as that, you’d be head of the class.”

[lovelystarkersworld]

Guilt Ridden

Peter strikes up a plan to seduce his mentor but doesn't realize how much he's messing with the man. Brought to you by many episodes of Kitchen Nightmares.

tw: underage(?) no specified age but peter can be seen anywhere from 16-19 and him being a teen is a dilemma (hence the title)

word count: 10.1k

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62289841

The first time Tony saw Peter was when he was walking into his own house to find the older man sitting on the couch talking to his aunt and it’s an image that he treasures. He had looked so starstruck and his eyes were wide with adoration, Tony wanted to ruin that innocent persona. When he first had that thought as the boy had stumbled over his words, he wanted the Earth to swallow him whole.

Tony had never prided himself on being a good man because he had his slip ups in his past and he was known for only using people for a quick fuck but he'd never once stooped so low to think a teenager was attractive. He was old enough to be this boys father, he should be thinking about how attractive his aunt is. She's much more age appropriate and don't get him wrong, she's beautiful but he found himself enraptured by the boy.

So when they are alone in his room, he's swallowing back any remark that dared to leave his mouth about how attractive he was. Tony was never known for having a filter and not flirting so he fought tooth and nail to hold them back and stay true to what he'd come for, to recruit the boy. The Avengers were having a falling out and it was looking more and more like there'd be a fight, not that he wanted one, and he thought the boy would be a good helping hand. And to his surprise, he's able to keep everything PG between the two.

He only saw Peter twice before the fight: once when Tony had come over again under the guise of wanting to go over the game plan with him. Sure he did actually have to tell the boy how everything was going to go down but he could've waited til the day of or before to do that, he just wanted to see him again. The next time is when he finally gives into the boy's pleas to see his Iron Man suit and when the boy bends over his hotel bed to grab a blueprint that sits forgotten, it makes him want to throw himself off of a roof. He gets a beautiful picture of Peter's round ass in his tight jeans and he hates how hard he stares, the guilt boiling in his stomach.

Tony's in his hotel room working on his third glass of two fingers of whiskey when he's receiving a receipt to his email. He opens it curiously because he knows for a fact he hadn't bought anything and Happy wouldn't use his account for things. He's met with a charge to the television which only causes him to furrow his brows more, maybe he was hacked? That thought only solidifies more in his mind when he reads the title of the...movie. Older Man Fucks Boy Raw.

Peter. The name settles deep in his brain and his eyes widen, hand stopping midway as it brings the glass of liquor to his lips. Was Peter watching porn two rooms over? More importantly, was he watching porn with a large age gap? He stares down at his phone but doesn't dare to do more, fire in his chest spreading down to his gut as he wonders what the video was, what the boy was doing. He could be laying down on the luxurious bed with his pants and boxers tossed to the floor, hand wrapped around himself as he pumped his cock. Was his shirt on or off? Were those hard abs he knew the young boy had on show for the empty, cold room? What if he was circling his tight hole with his fingers?

He doesn't even notice when his empty hand is reaching down to grope himself through his pants, his cock already growing hard from the nasty thoughts of the boy. The alcohol worked to make the worry wash away and the only thing filling his mind are pictures of Peter in different positions as his ass gets stuffed probably for the first time. God, he was most likely a virgin. Now that thought had him downing the rest of his drink, the ice freezing his lips which helped to ground him from his growing neediness. He sets the glass down on the bedside table and his hand finds its way down into his sleep pants, stroking his dick through his tight boxers. His phone has slipped through his hand and is sitting on the mattress, face up and glowing to remind him of what the young teenager was doing just a couple of rooms away.

It didn't take long for him to shove the bottoms down his tan thighs and wrap a hand fully around himself. His head tipped back and gently hit the wall as he allowed himself to finally give into the week long thoughts about the young boy. He didn't even try to hold back the moans that were slipping past his lips, if anything he wished Peter was here to make it that much more noisy. He has to physically pause his strokes and take a deep breath in when his mind supplies him with the idea of messaging Peter, no that was too far.

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and tries to redirect this thoughts which is quite easy to do when, for once, he's not swallowing back the idea of fucking the boy into his bed. He came quicker than he has in a long time, spilling over his fist with the whisper of Peter's name hanging in the air. As he comes down from his high, realization of what he did settles deep in his gut.

He wants the throw up, he just got off to Peter. Something he'd been avoiding doing for days because he knew it was a pipeline that he needed to avoid. He stands from his bed and drags himself to his bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he makes his way there. Tony stares at his nude body in the mirror and he feels bile crawling up his throat, disgusted with himself. He takes a scalding hot shower and scrubs himself raw, trying to wash away the nasty guilt that spreads through this body. For once ever in his life, he felt sinful.

He avoids the boy the next day, letting him instead pester Happy as he sat in his hotel room mulling over what he did last night. He couldn't so much as hear the boy without the, quickly becoming familiar, feeling of guilt spreading through his chest. And when it's the day of the fight, he swallows all feelings he has for the boy and tells himself that he wouldn't slip up during the fight but he is still avoiding him as much as he can, not even staying when he dropped off the new suit.

Thankfully during the fight, he's not distracted. He's able to put his full focus on trying to stop the others but yet he still fails in doing so but he's dismissed Peter from the fight earlier, he'd been thrown around too much for his liking. He doesn't see Peter for a long while after that, he's busy healing from the 'breakup' of the people he once saw as a family and for once he's thankful for his shit life, it distracted him from how disgusting he felt in himself.

His sexual thoughts of the boy eventually become background noise when he's busy making sure Peter doesn't kill himself by going against villains too big for him, maybe he's underestimating the younger boy but he didn't want to risk him dying. He'd only have to deal with more guilt surrounding the boy then so he takes the suit away and leaves the boy in tears in some clothes they picked up along the way.

Eventually he proves himself to Tony and the man for the first time ever, felt something more than sexual desire for him. That has him racing home and downing more liquor than he can keep count of, his mind racing so much that he can't even focus on the car he's working on. Of course the universe would make him even more of a disgrace to walk this planet and have a crush on a teenage boy.

He can't continue pushing Peter away because the boy doesn't understand the dilemma he was going through because why would he? Why would he think that the older man he had a crush on since he was a little boy had rubbed one out to the thought of him before? All he knew was that Tony cared for him even when he thought he hadn't so he pushed Mr. Stark to actually give him an internship under him so he could learn from one of the smartest men. Tony gives in eventually, saying that Peter could come down to the lab once a week to help him on projects. Except once a week turns to twice, to three times to four and eventually Peter is at Tony's lab at night more often than not.

It's hard on Tony to not give into his wants, he had never been one to try and hold back so it takes every inch of will to not slam the pretty boy against his desk and make him beg for more. He wonders if Peter had ever fucked someone before, stuck his dick into something other than his fist. It'd taken a bit for Tony to accept that he was a switch and the idea of someone hitting his prostate as he buried his face in the sheets was a hot one and when he adds Peter to that fantasy? It only works to make him not be able to make eye contact with him without that image burning in his brain for a couple days.

More often than not, he was drowning his disgust in alcohol and reverting back to his old ways of hooking up with strangers except now they were cute brunette boys who were in their teens, too young for a man like him to fucking and if he had to bite his tongue so he wasn't moaning his young interns name, no one had to know. When they moaned his name under him he would whisper in their ear to call him Mr. Stark and they all passed it off as a honorific kink, which it partially was, but mainly was because it reminded him of a certain brown, doe-eyed boy calling for him.

Peter eventually noticed how much more Tony was sleeping around, he sometimes would arrive early to hear moans and the slapping noise of skin hitting each other and he's sure Mr. Stark is fucking the boy so good. He'd caught glances of the boys his mentor slept with occasionally when he came up from the lab to grab water, in reality he was hoping to hear more of those noises for later tonight when he was alone, and he noticed that Tony had a type. Cute, young, pale, brunette boys who had big brown eyes and that's when he got the bad or maybe great idea.

Who's to say he can't seduce Tony to his bed? The similarities were uncanny. He just had to learn how seduction works because he was not going to embarrass himself in front of his longtime crush. It was weeks before Peter finally let his plan become reality, he'd spent countless hours watching spicier movies and even reading books to learn how to pull this man into his trap. He refrained from porn because he knew it was all overly staged and probably wouldn't do him any good.

The plan was a simple one, first it has to ensure that Tony was actually attracted to him like he thought. It would be many days of bending over the bench to read blueprints, arching his back, “Wait this one?” He’d ask as he looked over his shoulder, batting his lashes. He would stand a little too close to Tony when they were talking. His hands would trail over the man's biceps as he explained something to the younger boy, “Thank you for helping, Mr. Stark. You're so good to me.” and Tony should really stop him from the obvious wanting but he can't. Everytime he feels the boy's hot breath fan across his lips when they talk he can feel that oh so familiar burn in his stomach of both hot need and guilt bubbling.

Peter learned that each time he would get too close or push too much, Tony would pull back and have a look on his face that was mixed with excitement and dread. He couldn't blame him, he was young after all but he allowed the touches and let him get a little too close. So phase two of his plan comes into action, finally allowing himself to go on that date one of his older classmates had been asking him out after they'd hooked up once and tell the older man all the gritty details, except for the sexual part, in hopes it would strike some jealousy in him. And it works, he can see the tick of the man's jaw as he talks about it. He sees the way his fist clenched around his tool a little too tight but nothing happens. That's okay, Peter didn't expect it to. It was to sew threads of jealousy deep into the man's brain.

Tony could feel a new feeling churn in his stomach alongside the usual ones that sat there, jealousy. Peter had never shown interest in anyone before, at least not to him so the knowledge that in a couple of days he would be going out with some random kid from his school made anger flood his veins. That only worked to make his guilt all the much worse, he shouldn't care if Peter was dating. He was supposed to date, he was at the correct age for it after all but the idea of some other boy wrapping his arm around that beautiful waist and pulling him in close was not one he wanted.

Peter didn't know how much he was truly messing with the older man. Each time Peter bid his goodbye and left him alone, Tony would put all his work down and rest his forehead against his desk. He would sit there for minutes, just staring at the ground below him in dread. Eventually he would get up and drown out his thoughts with liquor, like he's used to, and go back to working but he wouldn't get much done. His thoughts would be too clouded and eventually he would leave his house to find another cute brown haired boy who he could fuck in oblivion. And when he was done and the boy left, he would shower under hot water to wash away his shame. A new routine of his.

Meanwhile Peter was thinking of phase three, he would start talking about sex around Tony. He wasn't exactly experienced in that area, he'd only given one blow job in his life and it was with that kid who asked him out. They're sitting in the lab, music playing in the background as Peter helped update the new spider-man suit Tony had built him, when Peter finally speaks up. He'd been thinking of how to bring up sex without it being overly obvious what he was doing, “Can I ask you for some advice, Mr. Stark?”

Tony looked up from the Iron Man suit he was fixing and nodded his head, “Of course, kid.” Is his simple response as he turns back to his work.

“I’m thinking of,” He paused for a moment, “of taking the next step with Jeremy.” Peter really had no plans of letting that boy take his virginity but Tony didn't have to know that, “That kid I went on a date with a couple weeks back and I just,” He sighed softly, “I don't know how to, you know, seduce someone…”

Tony paused his movements and silence filled the room for a long moment. His mind raced with thoughts, what does he mean the next step? As in have sex? Give home self up to that boy? He swallowed thickly, “Don't you think it's too soon for that?” It's hypocritical coming from him, he'd never been one to take it slow but the idea of someone else touching Peter made him angry.

Peter shrugged softly, “I dunno,” He looked at his mentor who was staring at the leg of his suit but hands were stuck in the same position, “I like him a lot and he's really sweet to me.” Not really a lie, Jeremy was a kind boy but Peter had no real feelings for him and he does feel a bit bad for using the boy but he had no plans on accepting any more dates with him, he didn't want to lead the boy on, “What do you think?”

Tony realized how he had yet to actually continue working so his hand finally continued the careful tinkering, “I think you shouldn't give it to a boy you barely know.” You shouldn't give it to anyone but me.

Peter nods slowly in agreement, “Maybe you're right.” He drops the subject now that the new seed has been planted and the two go back to their work.

Peter doesn't bring up sex again until days later, it was late at night and the younger was gathering his belongings to head home–against Tony's wishes, it was so late and Peter had his own quarters in the, growing empty, tower but the boy had school tomorrow morning so he had to get home. That doesn't stop him from walking up behind Tony, who was entranced in his work before him to notice to approach until he feels a warm hand gently trace up his muscular arm.

“I should be heading out soon, Mr. Stark.” He says and Tony's turning his head to look at the pretty boy. He nods softly in agreement, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pete.” It was so usual for the boy to come over after school that he expected him to show up.

“Oh! I took your advice.” Peter let his fingers trail down his arm before dropping his hand. As much as he wanted to feel up the muscles that Tony usually hid unless he was working down in the lab and wore those damn tank tops, he knew he couldn't touch too much without spooking the older man.

Tony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and his head tilted to the side just slightly, “What advice?” He hasn't forgotten about their conversation, God no. It sat deep in his brain and ate him up at night as he tried to fall asleep. It usually ended with him either staying up for nights on end, blaring music as he worked to drown out his thoughts.

“About sleeping with the kid, Jeremy.” Peter explains further and he has to hide back the smirk that dares to spread onto his face and as he sees Tony's jaw clench at the sole mention of the boy's name, it had to be working.

“That's good, kid.” His response was cut and short, too afraid that if he opened his mouth more than he would let out too much and he would end up digging himself into a deep hole.

“Mhm, figured I should probably save it for someone more…experienced.” The last word comes out breathy and he's leaned in a little too close to the man's ear, whispering the word.

The reminder of when he lost restraint that night in his hotel room came crashing down on him as he remembered Peter watching porn to get off. A teasing remark sat on his tongue but he bit back, he shouldn’t allow himself to slip but he let out a strained laugh, “Experienced, huh?” He shouldn't be encouraging this conversation more, he should've cut it off and sent the boy on his way but he can't help but pry.

Tony can feel the hot breath hitting his neck as Peter spoke the next words, “Yeah, I hear older men know how to do it better anyways.” He's laying it on thick now, it's clear what his intentions are to anyone who understands the basics of flirting. Nervousness was settling in his gut at the idea of being rejected but he knew it was likely and sure enough Tony was coughing lightly after a moment of silence, “You should get home.” He's quick to change the conversation and run the boy out.

Peter smiled and nodded, “Bye, Mr. Stark.” The name dropped off his tongue teasingly, it was still whispered almost sensually into the older man's ear. He pulls back and gives Tony another smile before he's twirling around and waltzing out and heading home.

That night was the second time Tony let himself fall into his thoughts as he laid in bed hoping to doze off. He’d done the same as that night in Germany and shoved his bottoms down to stroke his quickly growing cock. He came just as quickly as he had in the hotel but this time he was sober so he couldn't blame it on a drunken mind when he eventually comes down from his sex riddled brain.

Peter continues this little game for months, touches that lingered a bit too long and topics that were inappropriate for their relationship but they happen more and more often and one day the stars just so happened to align in his favor.

It was a Friday and the night grew closer and closer but Peter had yet to wrap up what he'd been working on to head home. For the first time in a while, he wasn't thinking of seducing Mr. Stark which might be why everything worked out the way it did. What's that saying about things coming your way when you're not expecting it? When you are expecting something, nothing happens. When you don't expect anything, everything happens. The upgrade to his suit that he'd been working on for the past month, Tony let him do it all by himself!, was finally coming together and he was excited to try it out in a couple days. A simple upgrade, his webshooters got jammed more often than not and well that obviously couldn't benefit him in fights so he was working on a new version that would give more room for the fluid to be released.

“Ah shit.” The words are mumbled after a soft hiss sounds throughout the room and Peter looks up from his work to see Tony with his pointer finger in his mouth, gently sucking on it to soothe the pain Peter assumed.

“What happened?” He asked to which Tony just looked over at him, not realizing the other had heard him and without pulling out his finger he responded honestly, “Jus’ burn’ed myself by acciden’.” His words slurred and mumbled around his thick pointer finger. The burner sat on his work bench cooling slowly after the older man sat it down to tend to his wound.

Peter's eyes are trained on the way Tony's pretty lips are wrapped around his finger and gently sucking on it to help the burn. It's a completely innocent act but it sends a familiar feeling of heat through his body. How could his mentor look so good doing something so little? He doesn't notice that Tony has stopped suckling on the finger and is looking back at Peter until the man is pulling out his finger slowly, the boy's eyes follow the way it pulls the bottom lip down slowly and it bounces back in place. He blinks back into reality now that the distraction is gone and he blushed at the realization that he'd been caught staring.

Tony had caught on to what the boy had been doing early on and he'd been able to evade every move easily. The guilt in his chest overruled the need to know how he feels for the boy, except for those two times that took weeks for Tony to fully get rid of the feeling that gnawed at him, but when he catches Peter staring at his mouth with hungry eyes it does something to him. There is a fire behind those pretty brown eyes that he'd never seen before and his brain is giving him the idea of how needy Peter would look if Tony put on a show for him but he doesn't, he pulls out his finger like the semi respectable man he was but for once he's at a loss for words. What do you say when the boy you've been lusting for clearly has the hots for you but you can't make a move because it was wrong to advance the situation? That thought almost makes him laugh. Apparently he was Tony Stark, the epitome of morally correct choices now. Then the boy is opening his mouth and he wasn't expecting the words that came out.

“I can help suck on it. I've been told I’m pretty good at making it feel better.”

The double meaning is clear to anyone and Tony's not sure how true the words were but the idea of someone else having been able to feel the way those pink lips wrap around and suck, been able to see the way Peter looked up through his lashes has the jealousy that he only felt when he remembered that boy from Peter’s school returning. This was one thing the boy hadn't tried yet, directly flirting sexually with him and there was something about the way Peter looked so innocent yet spoke so sensually. Tony is pretty good with handling these situations, he'd been flirted with more than enough times to know how to flip the switch, “Oh? How good are you, pretty?”

The words slip from his mouth before he can even realize what he's saying because it's so normal for him to flirt he doesn't realize who he's flirting with. Not to mention all the pent up need for the boy, it was a ticking bomb til he opened his mouth like always. He wants to take it back immediately because Peter’s eyes widen slightly as the realization of his words settles in and he's quickly latching onto the opening, “Never had any complaints, in fact I’m always met with a lot of encouragement.” He doesn't mention that he's only ever given one so there wasn't much feedback to begin with but that one time, he'd been told how good he was for a virgin so he can only assume that he's okay at it.

Peter is standing from his bench seat slowly and walking towards Tony, steps small but not hesitant. The older man's eyes follow him and he can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, “Pete…” That's all he says to stop the boy and he knows he should do more because he knows how this will end. He's been here more than once in his life but this was the first time he should be stopping it. Peter is finally standing in front of him and Tony has to tilt his head up slightly from where he sat to continue the eye contact, “Would you like to see how good, Mr. Stark?” The question is asked so softly and Tony can feel the fingers start to trail up his forearm, “I’ll make it even better for you.” He's leaning forward slowly and his touch reaches the man's strong muscles.

“Peter. You shouldn't.” He needs to pull away. He needs to stop this. This was approaching dangerous territory very quickly and he was going to do something he regretted but as much as he knows what he should be doing, he can't find it in him to do it now. Not when Peter's face is approaching so much closer with those big brown eyes, “What? You don't want me?” The question is bratty, he knows that, but it would force the other to say the truth one way or another.

“What? No, that's not what-I mean,” Tony inhaled a deep breath after his small slip up, “You're young and my intern.” He feels Peter's fingers wrap around his bicep, “You should get home.” He's trying to cut the conversation off and send the boy home, it usually worked. Peter would always take the hint and never push, always giving him his pretty smile and a chirpy ‘Okay, Bye Mr. Stark!’ before taking himself home but today? Today, Tony let out slip that he did want him and Peter caught onto it because he's smiling big and sweetly at him and his hand is squeezing his arm softly before letting his finger trail through every grove of the deep lines to his muscles.

“Oh c’mon,” Their faces are so close that Tony can feel the warm heat of Peter’s breath hit his lips, “I’ve been saving it for you, y’know?” Tony's brows furrowed at the confession before he realized what he was saying, his virginity. Heat runs from the tips of his ears to the bottom of his feet at those words because obviously Tony knew he was a virgin and he knew he liked older men, he'd admitted both without Tony asking, and Tony suspected the attraction early on but the confirmation that he was desired by him makes him run hot. Even if he did give in, he couldn't give the boy what he wanted right now. There was no lube in this room and he was not going to take this precious boy’s first time in a cold lab.

“We really shouldn't.” Is all he says but he's not stopping the situation even though the voice in his brain is yelling at him to push Peter away but the horny part of his brain is telling him to lean forward and close the distance between the two. He doesn't. He can't but Peter isn't letting him get away, he's filling his space with that familiar scent of cheap cologne that drove Tony's mind crazy.

“Let me make you feel good.” The words drip from his lips and Tony can't tear his eyes away from them, “Just this once.” Peter's lips graze against his own softly as he speaks, “Do you want me to stop?” The question hangs heavy in the thick air. No, please don't stop. Tony stared at the lips so close to him and he didn't answer the question because he'd be lying if he said yes, “Peter…” The name leaves him again as a hail mary and that was the last thing said before the young boy is biting the bullet and leaning forward to seal the gap between them.

Tony stills frozen for a long moment, eyes wide in shock because he wasn't expecting Peter to actually surge forward and kiss him. Sure the flirting and growing tension should've given him that idea but he just assumed Peter would back out like he always did. Peter doesn't have to let the lack of reciprocation make him fill with anxiety because after only a couple of seconds, Tony is finally giving into him and his eyes fall closed as his lips finally find the pace of the boys. It's not as hot and messy as one would expect for a kiss that had been building up. Instead their lips are moving against one another in a wonder-filled kiss, learning the feel of each other's lips. Peter’s were so much softer than his slightly chapped ones and was that cherry he tasted? Chapstick probably, it would explain why they were so smooth.

Peter doesn't want to pull away from the kiss, it would give Tony time to overthink the situation and he had finally gotten what he wanted so he presses his lips to the man’s own with more pressure. Tony doesn't hesitate to reciprocate the feel, tilting his head up and pushing his weight against his seat so he could match the kiss. Peter can finally let his hands truly feel up the older man now so he lets both of them find their way to the older man's covered abdomen. They trail up his stomach slowly and he wishes he could feel the smooth skin against his own so they find their way up the tight tank top. His fingers grazed the skin gently and Tony's hands were trembling beside him. He gripped the chair tightly as the kiss began to grow hotter the more they spent kissing, Tony could only hold back how horny he was for Peter so much now that the seal was broken.

The man's tongue pressed up against the boys gently in invitation to turn the heat up and Peter happily accepted, letting his tongue slip out and graze over Tony's as their lips moved together. Peter noticed the lack of hands on his body and well that wouldn't do so he reached out blindly, following the length of Tony's body until he found his wrists. He grabs them gently and pulls them away from the iron grip they hand on the seat below him. Peter leads them to his hips, encouraging the touch. Tony's fingers grasped the hips gently at first but as the kiss continued, his fingers tightened more and more until his right hand was letting go and Peter rejoiced when he felt the warmth lead over his side.

Tony had given into his wants and all of the usual feeling of guilt was gone, being replaced with the burn of need. So when Tony has to pull away because his head is growing light and he can feel less and less oxygen in his lungs, he doesn't hesitate to lean up more and press wet kisses to the boy's neck. Peter is happy to tilt his head to the side and encourage the open mouthed kisses. His own hand found its way to the man's thick hair, tangling his fingers into it and gently pushing his face closer into the crease of his neck.

Tony's hands find his hips again and he pulls the boy in close to his body, thighs spreading to invite his body in as far as possible. Then they're trailing behind his body and down until he's finally giving into his long awaited want, groping the boy's cute, pert ass. His lips are still trailing over the pale neck until he settles on the pulse point right where his neck meets his collarbone and then he sucks. Tony was never one to leave marks on his partners, they were usually one offs but the idea of seeing Peter tomorrow with a hickey he left made his mind race.

Peter can't help the soft moan that leaves his lips at the feel of his neck being sucked. He's never felt anything quite like it and it was hot, the knowledge that he would look into his mirror for the next few days with the reminder of what happened here was what really turned him on. After so many nights of trying to get the man into his pants, tonight would finally be the night. Mr. Stark's thick fingers are digging into the flesh of his butt, squeezing and rolling the skin as if he'd been thinking of doing this for just as long as he has.

Peter uses the grip in the older man's hair to pull him back and Tony lets out a loud moan at the feel of a sharp tug to the locks and the noise sends a shiver down the boy's spine, he needed to hear that more. He is eager to straddle the older man's lap, having dreamt of this moment for years. His legs hang off the side of the chair and he sits directly on top of the other’s crotch. He doesn't dare speak in case he accidentally makes Tony snap out of his horny haze and realize what he's doing so his lips find the man's again but this time the kiss is what you would've expected their first to be, needy and filled with lust. Their tongues touch each other and Tony is taking the boys into his mouth and suckling on it. That has Peter moaning out loudly which in turn, Tony's hands find his glutes again and give them a sharp squeeze. Their lips find the fast rhythm again and Peter’s hands are feeling the older man up completely, finally getting to feel his childhood crush up. He feels Tony’s hands push his body up and his ass rubs up against the older man's clothed crotch. Peter is quick to get the hint and his hips begin to grind down against the man. His own crotch was being pushed up against the man's stomach with each grind and it was obvious how needy he was growing from how hard his dick was already.

There are soft pants being shared between the heated kiss and Tony is growing more and more desperate. Believe it or not, he was still holding back slightly but it wasn't going to last with how good it felt to have the boy's butt rubbing against him. He hadn't felt this horny over some simple grinding and kissing since he was a teenager, his cock was already twitching in interest. His hands roll the flesh of the boy's ass, still guiding his hips back and forth in a rocking movement. The kiss is growing more and more intense by the second, Tony's tongue basically invading the boy's mouth now.

There was a burning sensation filling Tony’s lungs at the lack of air but he wanted to continue the feel of the sloppy, wet lips on his own. He can only put off the need for oxygen for so long and he's pulling back against every want in his body but he doesn't have to dread it for long because Peter is taking the next step and sensually pulling himself off of the older man's lap. His hands trail down the man's chest, abdomen, to his thighs and Tony inhales a breath through his teeth, a hiss ringing through the room.

Peter continues the slow trail of his hands down the man's thick thighs as he lowers himself down to his knees gently, careful not to hurt his knees on the tiled floor. Tony is catching onto the intention quickly and his hands come out in front of him for a moment, “Pete, we really shouldn't.” It's a weak attempt to stop what was inevitably going to happen because his thighs are spreading open to invite the boy between them and although his hand had come forward, he wasn't pushing the other away.

“Tell me to stop.” Peter dares, looking up at the older man from his new position between Tony's legs. Their eyes met and there was a fire behind Peters because he knew the chance of Tony going back on his wants right now we're low and he's proven correct when Tony says nothing and just lets his hand fall down beside him. A grin finds its way onto the boy’s face, “I promise I’ll make it worth it.” His hands are stroking his thighs again until they find their way up to undo the button of the older man's jeans. Peter’s eyes are glued on his crotch as he begins to slowly pull down the bottoms, hooking his fingers into the man's boxers along the way and dragging them down with the help of Tony lifting his hips from the seat. They fall down to a pool around the older man's ankles and he kicks them off somewhere beside them.

His cock isn't fully hard yet but there was definitely some chub and that's okay, Peter would make his throb in need soon enough. The boy's hand trails up his, now exposed, thighs until it's wrapping around his dick. He pumps it slowly at first but is gaining momentum quickly. He'd never given a handjob to anybody before so he could only assume that what he did to himself late at night would also feel good to Tony. He is concentrating on growing the man's arousal and making him fill out completely. He's only thinking of how big Tony could possibly be. Sure there were plenty of leaked videos of Tony that Peter has spent countless nights touching himself to them but none clear enough to get a good look at his dick.

Tony let out a breathy moan as he watched Peter’s smaller hand move up and down his shaft. His cock was growing to full size in no time now that the younger boy was paying full attention to him and Peter was obsessed with the feeling of the cock hardening under his touch, it made him feel attractive, knowing that someone like Tony Stark was into him in a sexual way.

Peter looked up at Tony through his thick lashes and leaned forward slowly, mouth falling open and his tongue came peaking out. He licked a clean stripe from the base of his dick all the way up to the tip, letting his tongue trail over the slit softly which resulted in a shaky inhale of breath from the man above. There was a salty taste settling on his tongue and he was already thinking that Tony tasted better than the boy from his class. He clears his mind of the thought, now is not the time to be thinking of someone other than the man of his dreams and that man is letting out low moans each time he feels the boy's hand move down.

Peter stops drawing out the moment to print the image of his mentor moaning above him in his brain to finally wrap his lips around the tip of his dick and he suckles on it like a lollipop. The taste of him has a moan slipping past his lips, he wished he could print this into his mind but he knows that eventually he will forget the way the salty sweat tasted in his tongue so he makes sure to enjoy the moment. He can feel the eyes of the older man on him so he lets his own come up again to make eye contact as his tongue begins to swirl around the tip. He lets his tongue wiggle into the slit and that gets him a loud moan in return.

Tony was watching the boy closely because he knew that he couldn't do this again, he shouldn't be doing this now but there's no way he can stop. There's no point in stopping now, the boy had already wrapped those pink lips around his cock and was suckling on it like it was a candy. His hand comes up and it tangles in the thick, brown curls but he's not pushing him down, he's just holding it in place and the image of his hand touching the boy as he swirls his tongue around the tip has more moans erupting from his throat.

Peter is encouraged by the sounds and he begins to sink down to the shaft, slowly taking more and more in until he can't anymore. He's a little upset that he can't take it down all the way but he can't be blamed for not knowing how to deepthroat. Not that Tony seems to mind, he's still letting out consecutive small moans with each inch Peter takes into his mouth. It's only about half, maybe less, before Peter feels a gag in the back of his throat so he stops sinking down and focuses on the part he has in his mouth. He pulls his head up until only the tip is in his mouth and then sinks back down, then up and back down and soon enough he is setting a rhythm. His tongue laid flat against the underside of the cock as he bobbed his head, his hand resuming the stroking on the part that didn't fit in his mouth.

Tony could care less that Peter wasn't deepthroating him, it was already the best blowjob of his life because it was him. It was the boy of his guilty desires and secret wet dreams that had him taking cold showers almost every morning. His head wanted to tilt back and his eyes wanted to shut to enjoy the moment but he didn't dare look away from Peter’s sweet mouth wrapped around his thick cock. He wasn't very long, sitting at a comfortable 5 inches but he was thick. Thick enough that Peter's fingers didn't touch and his mouth was stretched wide and the sight was driving the older man crazy. His own mouth was hanging open and his moans were bouncing off the walls of his lab, reminding him of where they were and how easily they could get caught through the class windows that lined the room but he can't find it in him to give a fuck. Not when Peter is picking up the pace of his head and bobbing faster, saliva begins to pool around the sides of his mouth and threatens to drool over his thighs so a hand comes up and with the back of his hand he wipes the side of his mouth.

Tony's hand catches the boy's wrist as it goes to clean the other side and the grip is tight, “Leave it. Make a mess for me.” He finally lets go of the boy and Peter is flushed red at the demand, of course Tony would like messy blowjobs. He wasn't exactly sure how to make a mess but he's sure he can figure it out, he's a smart boy. Peter goes back to concentrating on bobbing his head and when he feels the spit drip down his chin he leaves it, even when it starts to feel cold against his skin and grows a little annoying. The lab was soon filled with not only Tony’s moans but also the ‘schlick’ from the man's cock being repeatedly sucked and it was a little sloppy, Peter wasn’t an expert and sometimes would take too much into his mouth causing him to pull back with a gag or his teeth would lightly scrape over the skin but Tony only found it so much hotter that way. The slip ups reminded him that Peter was an inexperienced virgin and he was ruining the boy's innocence, it was hot. Not to mention, the scrape of teeth should've turned him off but he was always a masochist so it only served to make heat burn in his stomach.

Peter was putting his all into it now and he could be a pornstar with how good he looked concentrated on a fat cock filling his mouth. He could feel the spit spilling from the sides of his mouth and lubricating the rest of the cock and it dripped down to the man's balls. The boy's empty hand moved up and cupped them, rolling the two between his fingers and he gave them a soft squeeze which earned him a beautiful moan from the older man. Each moan only encouraged the boy to bob his head faster and suction his lips tighter.

Maybe it was the way the boy played with his balls or the way his tiny mouth barely fit around him but Tony could feel his orgasm growing closer and closer. Tony mumbled a small, “Fuck, Pete.” As the rush of pleasure flooded through his veins. He was pushing back his need to cum but it would only last so long, “Gonna cum.” Is the only wanting the man can force out of his mouth as Peter begins to tongue his way into the slit of his dick again. His grip on the curls tightens as he gives in to the want of tilting his head back and shutting his eyes. He fights back to urge to buck his hips up into the tight mouth, Peter probably couldn't handle face fucking just yet. No, not yet. That makes it seem like there will be another time and there won't be. He has to make sure of that.

Peter is doubling his efforts at the warning and the grip in his hair is the encouragement he needed to try and take more of the cock into his mouth. He doesn't make it far before he is trying to pull back with a cough daring to come out but Tony is holding down his head because he's so close. Peter sputters around the cock, a cough getting caught in his throat and it squeezes Tony’s cock just right. The spit is dripping down his chin and all over the man's cock, ballsack, and onto the chair beneath the older man, completely making a sloppy mess of the man's bottom area.

The older man is letting out loud moans into the air and the thought of being a respectable man and not filling the boy's mouth with cum flashes in his mind but before he can even try to pull back, both of Peter's hands are reaching up and grabbing his hips in a tight grip and holding him in place. Tony now realizes he definitely underestimated the boy's strength in fights because he can feel the dig of fingers in his flesh pinning him down to the seat. The idea of Peter having him ass up on a his egyptian sheets and using that strength to hold him in place as he rams his dick into him was filling his brain, he's sure Peter would learn how to fuck him quickly—the boy was always so good at picking up anything new that Tony introduced him to during their shared lab time or sparring that he knows the boy wouldn't be any different in bed. It shows with how quickly Peter had learned to suck dick, the slip ups not happening as much as Tony would want to make his nasty brain remember how innocent Peter was. He can feel the warmth in his stomach growing and his thighs were beginning to shake as he grew closer to the edge. Tony's moans grew louder and louder and Peter knew from all those nights of watching his leaked porn videos that he was getting closer with each bob of his head. There was precum leaking onto the boy’s tongue, so much of it and it was warm and salty–a hint of what his cum would taste like.

Peter feels the spurts of warm cum fill his mouth and a loud moan leaves his throat. His cum is, thankfully, not horrendous tasting and he's more than happy to swallow every bit the man has to offer. It honestly was good to him, well maybe not good but it was definitely a taste Peter wouldn't mind tasting every day of his life. He slowly pulls off of his cock but stops when he gets to the tip and starts to suckle on it like he did at the beginning. He feels the man's thighs tremble beneath him in overstimulation and he hears the pick of soft whines.

“Peter! Fuck!” Tony moans loudly and grips the locks roughly, the feeling of him sucking on his tip was borderline painful but in a good way. His hips try to move up to fuck the boys mouth but he can't move and when Peter feels him trying, the grip tightens even more and he can feel the ache on his hips. It wasn't knew to him that he liked overstimulation, he would fuck himself until he was dumb some nights when he needed to feel something so he's more than open to letting Peter continue until the boy is tired but the boy is pulling off with an over exaggerated ‘pop’ and Tony hears a giggle ringing through the room. He opens his eyes and looks back down to see Peter staring up at him with a big grin on his face, “I knew I could make you cum.”

Tony is panting above him, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. His brain hadn't fully cleared yet and he knows the boy is aching in his pants, “C’mere, Pete.” He ignores the boy's statement and is using his hands to grab the boy by his wrist and dislodges the tight grip on his hips to pull him back up onto his lap. His view is soon blocked by the boy's body straddling his legs and his hand is finding its way to the boy's jeans and undoing the zipper easily. He stuffs his hand into the front and pulls out the cock until it is sticking out hard and leaking between them, “Let me help you.” His hand is pumping the smaller cock up and down but it's dry so he gathers a pool of spit in his mouth and spits directly onto the tip.

Peter moans out loudly at the view of Tony spitting on him, it was so dirty and made his stomach twist. He wasn't going to last long, he realized as Tony's hand resumed the movements. His hands reached up and he gripped the man's shoulders and he felt the man's thumb trail over the slit to gather the precum which earned him a loud whine of, “Mr. Stark~” The name fueled heat in his stomach again but he was an older man, he needed time before going again unless he took the pill. Peter leans forward and smashes his lips against the man's, sloppily kissing him with tongue.

Tony is more than happy to return the kiss, his mouth opening to allow the boy's tongue to trace over his own and it's Peter’s turn to wrap his lips around the muscle and then sucking on it like he did his cock. Tony moans out at the feeling and his hand is picking up the pace on the other dick to which Peter is returning the moan and releasing the man's tongue to resume the wet kiss. The man strokes the boy's cock at a steady pace, using the precum and spit as lube. He’s storing the moans deep in his brain and Peter’s hips begin to fuck up into his fist as he presumably grew closer to his orgasm.

Peter is letting out moans and whines into the older man's mouth as the coil in his stomach grew and grew until his body tensed up and he blew his load all over his mentor's fist. Peter pulls back from the kiss to tilt his head back and moan about loudly in pleasure and Tony is watching intently as Peter’s mouth dropped open and as white painted his hand. The strokes are slowing down as Tony strokes him through his orgasm and eventually it stops the movements and he's giving it a soft squeeze which in turn got him a whine and some squirming.

As Peter comes down from his high, realization of his slip up starts sinking in on Tony. He should not have allowed this to get so far, “Oh fuck.” The words slip past his mouth in worry and that has Peter looking at him in confusion, “I shouldn't have-I mean we shouldn't have done this. I-Shit. I told myself I wouldn't do this. Fucking damnit.” Tony can feel the anxiety gathering in his chest and Peter is frowning deeply at the words.

“It's okay, Mr. Stark! I wanted it.” He was reassuring because the last thing he wanted was for Tony to feel bad for taking him. He was the one who had been chasing after him for months now but he knew it was inevitable that Tony would allow the guilt to rise, he should've taken that into consideration before jumping his bones and now there's dread filling his veins that this might be the last time he sees Tony. The man's could cut off all ties now, fuck! He didn't even think of that.

Tony shakes his head repeatedly, “It is not okay. We can't do this again. Ever.” He is finally finding the boy's eyes and is, for once in his life, stern in his words. All Peter hears is that he is not kicking him out for good and his internship is safe because even though he convinced the man for it only to seduce him, he genuinely enjoyed the position and it would look great on his college applications. He nods repeatedly, “Yes, okay! Whatever you say, Mr. Stark.” And they both know it's a lie, the dam had been opened and there was no way either of them could live without touching each other again.

Peter leaves the lab that night with a bright grin on his face and a light sheen of sweat on his skin. He walks home in the dark and enjoys the cool air against his skin, he'd just sucked Tony Stark's cock. The proof of it was the flavor of cum and cock that sat on his tongue until he brushed his teeth that night before bed. He touches himself with the memory of the weight of his crush’s dick in his mouth and the feel of the big hand over his own until he came for the second time that night. Then he's curling up in his twin size bed and cuddling into his pillow as he dreamily thinks of Tony. There were many nights that he spent thinking of the older man but tonight was different because his plan had actually worked! He had actually been able to break the man down enough until he touched him. If he was being honest, he wasn't expecting it to actually work. The plan was one he’d made up on a whim and to know that Tony saw him the same way he looked at him made a smile frame his sweet face until sleep overtook his body.

Tony on the other hand spends the night on the verge of tears, he did the one thing he had promised himself not to do. He stares at the suit in front of him and the familiar feeling of tightness in his chest and his hands were trembling, he needs to get out of this lab—it only served to remind him of his mistake. He grabs a bottle of overly expensive whiskey and engulfs himself in the smooth liquor, staring at the wall in front of him as he thinks over every move that had led him to this moment in his life. It's not like he didn't enjoy it or something like that, it was just that Peter was completely off limits–or he's supposed to be at least. He doesn't know how he's meant to face his aunt when he needs to ask for permission to go on a mission. God, he still needed to ask permission because he still lived with her, this was so wrong.

Maybe this was payback for all the bad he'd done in the past, maybe it was finally coming back to bite him in the ass. That's the only reason he can think of as to why the universe would make him weak over a teen. He wished he could say that it was only sexual, that he only wanted to have the boy spread open beneath him but he knew it was a lie. He knew that he also wanted to see the boy smile over a present Tony got him and to laugh at his stupid jokes. He wanted to hold the boy's hand as they watched movies together on his large television until they both fell asleep. He wanted to work with him down in the lab every night, tinkering away on their projects and only speaking up to talk about the work until Peter would eventually drag him up to bed to get some much needed rest. It makes him want to throw himself into an abyss, he shouldn't want all this with someone as young as Peter.

The two spend the rest of the night completely different but thinking of each other nonetheless, their minds flooded with the memory of their forbidden act and how they would greet each other the next time they saw one another in person. Tony drowned his entire bottle and half of another one, drunkenly sipping directly from the glass. His mind never stopped racing until drowsiness was filling his body and he laid down to sleep with anxiety eating him up while Peter slept like a baby, not knowing the moral dilemma he’d put the older man in but it wouldn't happen again. It couldn't. It wouldn’t.

(It happens again)