#peter parker ceo

[youandtom2]

Praise You Like I Should (CEO!Tom Holland) 18+

Summary: You were always a people-pleaser, desperate to do right by everybody no matter what they asked. Being an intern, your boss Jackson exploited your people-pleaser tendencies in a very unprofessional manner, and CEO Mr Holland wasn't happy about it... Themes: smut! little bit of fluff and angst, dom!tom and sub!reader, oral (m+f), major praise kink, sir kink, overstimulation, masturbation (alone) , slight jewelry kink w/c: 10k+

MASTERLIST

You look over the dimly lit hall before you, tables decorated to the nines with hand-folded serviettes, silver-ware suited for royalty, gleaming as they sit on a fresh white linen table cloth, surrounded by tall plum-coloured cushioned chairs. There’s about twelve tables dotted around the hall identical to one another, waiting to be filled by guests in about an hour or so. The room sparkles with the metallic colouring of birthday banners and balloons floating around the room, illuminated by the dancing, multicoloured disco lights. 

The surprise birthday party you were instructed to organise is for Mr Holland’s business partner, Taylor. They’re each other's yin and yang, mixing together like oil on water but somehow they make it work. The informal Taylor bases his relationship with his employees on friendship and a sense of mutual equality, where the formal Mr Holland prefers professionalism and respect on top of trust. Nevertheless, both are equally respected as bosses and businessmen in their own right. It doesn’t necessarily mean you all prefer one over the other, but if you had to make a choice as to who you would rather hang out with, the answer is an obvious one.

As an intern, it isn’t exactly part of your remit to organise and host birthday events, but your boss, Jackson, ordered you to do it. Jackson’s notable within the workforce for several reasons; he’s outgoing, social, ambitious, confident, and is unofficially Taylor’s kiss ass. He appointed himself (ahem, you) with the responsibility of organising Taylor’s surprise party, not because he thinks he’s capable, but because he’s looking for recognition. What people don’t know is that he’s actually a lazy guy who has gotten himself drunk with the taste of superiority, abusing you as his own personal slave for favours both big (entirely consequential and out of your depth) and small (worthless and petty). Unfortunate to be his first intern, you’ve realised how gluttonous he’s become with you at his disposal how and whenever he pleases. However, being placed at the bottom of the pecking order, you’re not at liberty to say no. 

Jackson’s not your favourite boss by any means, but by God he keeps you busy. It tooks weeks for you to organise the venue, the catering, the entertainment, the decorations, the invitations, most importantly the cake, and the little oddities that everyone forgets about like hand-written name tags and having straws at the bar. You’ve been working relentlessly and after weeks of stress, late and often sleepless nights, numerous phone calls and emails, cancellations and rebookings, tonight is the night that all of that can end. The curse of being a perfectionist and a people-pleaser can finally release its hold on you.

Just as you finish clarifying the itinerary with the hotel’s bar staff, you notice a dark figure walking through the entrance. Your eyes trail nervously from the black patent shoes to the white shirt peeking beneath the black suit of which belongs to Mr Holland. He has his tortoise shell glasses perched perfectly on his nose, reflecting the colours of the disco lights as he walks towards you, stoic and poised. A silent ‘fuck’ crosses your mind. 

Being the CEO eight floors above you, Mr Holland’s face isn’t one that you see as consistently as Jackson’s. He’s at least 6 tiers above you in the pecking order, one of two to take superiority over a long line of directors, specialists, managers, supervisors and assistants before you. So you can hardly blame yourself when you start to feel nerves gathering in your chest, despite how well-respected he is amongst the workforce. 

His eyes finally find yours and he clarifies your name. You can appreciate that he’s at least taken the time to learn your face. “You're Jackson’s intern, right?” 

Wow. He knows you more than you thought. “Yes sir. Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“No, thank you. I was just coming to take a look around. I’m normally part of organising the celebrations but this year I’ve been too busy.” He wordlessly waves a hand before weaving in and out the tables, reading each name tag as he passes by. You watch nervously as he inspects the room until finding himself in front of what you call The Shrine with folded arms, almost bursting at the seams. More simply, it’s a collage of photos of Taylor taken over the years pieced together in a mosaic standing on an easel, gathered and no less arranged by you, of course. Next to it stands an empty corkboard, waiting to be filled with pictures from tonight's celebration, provided by the pop-up photobooth beside it. 

“Whose idea was this?” There’s a warm smile on Mr Holland’s face.

“Mine, sir.”

“And the handcrafted name tags?”

“Also me, sir.”

“I love it. It’s very creative.” You exhale loudly, relieved. The people-pleaser inside you starts to buzz, fluttering wildly at Mr Holland’s praise. “Did you…” His eyes squint narrowly, honing in on you. “Did you organise all of this?” 

“Yes, I did. The venue and catering took some negotiating but once that was planned, the rest came with time.”

“Impressive.”

You’re about to thank him but you're interrupted by the obnoxious calling of your name in a voice that booms from the entrance of the hall. Jackson marches towards you and you stand a little straighter. He doesn’t notice Mr Holland standing in the corner of the room next to the shrine. Instead of Mr Holland announcing himself, which is what you expected him to do, he sinks his hands into his pockets and quietly observes from afar. 

“I need a rundown--” Please, that would be great. “--and for the love of God where is the present I was supposed to get Taylor?” Thanks for getting me a present for him, I’ll pay you back.

Your answer is succinct and to the point. “I’ve left it in your hotel room; it’s a dinner reservation at Keens Steakhouse in New York. As for tonight, the bar will be open for guests when they arrive at 6:30pm, Taylor will arrive between 7:00pm and 7:15pm for his surprise, the buffet will open at 7:30pm and cake will be served at 8:30pm. Last orders are at 11:30pm and the curfew is midnight. Everyone has checked in and has their hotel room key, although Kelsey couldn’t make it tonight, so her room is spare.”

Jackson gives a gruff nod, mumbling something intelligible under his breath. He cautiously looks to the bar, then narrows his eyes at you with a pointed finger wavering in your face. “I need tonight to be perfect so I need you to be sober. No alcohol. Got it?” In other words, I can’t be bothered making sure everything goes smoothly so I need you to stay sober while I get shit-faced. You nod, pursing your lips angrily as he walks away from you without a final word.

With Jackson no longer in sight, the tension finally deflates and your shoulders relax. You hate that every interaction with Jackson is a test of your skill and knowledge, caught in a vicious cycle of having to prove yourself worthy time and time again. 

As Mr Holland emerges from the corner of the room, it’s an observation he also confronts having finally witnessed Jackson’s true authoritarian nature. His eyes are fixated on the golden doors in a stare so firm it could burn holes through the metal, and just when he steps into the brighter lights of the bar, his overall demeanour changes. 

His jaw ticks when he finally faces you. “Jackson’s keeping you on your toes tonight it seems.” 

“He always does, sir.” You shuffle awkwardly on your feet, recounting the numerous occasions his brutal demands have worked you to the bone.

“I don’t think I appreciate the way he talks to you.” 

“Oh I’m used to it by now.”

“So he talks to you like that all the time?” Shit. In truth, Jackson would never have spoken so harshly to you had he known anyone was in the room let alone Mr Holland, but that was his mistake. One you’re not sorry for. “Well, if he isn’t going to tell you what an amazing job you have done, I will. You should be proud of organising all of this by yourself, it’s not easy. Well done.” 

Your chest swells with pride as Mr Holland pats a gentle hand against your upper arm. Finally, your first taste of positive reinforcement. “Thank you, sir.” 

Mr Holland’s smirk quirks at the edges. His hands find themselves deep within his pockets once again as he coolly and oh-so-calmly exits through the doors. 

~~~~

You are insomnia personified. As relieved as you are that the night is going exactly to plan, with the nervous anticipation over, you just cannot wait to get to your bed knowing that the stress is over. You have hours of sleep to catch up on, a stone of weight to put back on and friends and family to respond to, and without a single alcoholic drink to lift your spirits, you’re finding it harder and harder to keep the exhaustion at bay. Beyond the exhaustion, however, there’s a sadness hidden deep within your conscience and while you glance over the decorations you hung up as the melodic singing of ‘happy birthday’ rings in the air, it spreads. It’s clear that people are oblivious to what makes you so downcast on a celebratory night as they pass nothing more than a glance your way, but in all honesty, you much prefer it to be that way. You wouldn’t want anyone to see the tear building in the corner of your eye. 

For now, you thrive on the compliments you’ve heard about the venue, the decorations, the drinks and the food, each and every one of them satisfying your perfectionist mindset. Okay, so what no-one knows you organised the party, and sure, you can oversee the fact that none of the compliments are directed to you in particular, because in the end, you’ve gained Mr Holland’s approval and that’s enough for you.

Well, it was enough until Taylor took to the stage for a speech.

“...and a special shout-out to Jackson for putting this all together for me. This is absolutely amazing, I couldn’t have asked for more.” 

Your heart sinks in your chest and your ears instinctively drown out the clapping and cheering of the crowd around you, eyes set in stone as they watch Jackson accept the dedication so graciously that it makes you sick to your stomach. It takes every ounce of energy you have left in you to suppress the wobble in your lip at the sight of Jackson soaking up the glory like a sponge. Jackson taking the credit for your hard work was something you should’ve expected from him. After all, he is lazy and will never be willing to admit it, definitely not in front of Taylor. Still, the chase for recognition was always going to be a losing battle for you; you’re an intern for fuck’s sake, you are merely just a name and a face for most, unfulfiling of the protagonistic arc the people here want in their stories. Jackson, the kiss ass, makes much more sense being the hero than an underdog intern. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, accepting defeat. 

You claim an empty seat at an empty table in a dark corner of the room, far from the crowd mingling on the dance floor and you remain there as the party continues into the night. The glass of tepid water looks pitiful in your hands, its lack of taste offering no respite from your sorrow. 

With fifteen minutes until last orders, you begin counting down to the moment you can retire to your bed which you know won’t arrive until after you’ve cleaned up the hall. You’re jealous of some of the guests who have already decided to leave the party.

The chair to your right suddenly scrapes across the floor and you’re slightly taken aback when Mr Holland sits close beside you and abruptly rests an elbow upon the table, blocking your view of the crowd and demanding your attention. A cedarwood scent silently announces itself and you inhale it deeply, finding sanctuary in its presence despite how startled you are by it. Your breath is simply taken from you when he shuffles himself closer. He isn’t wearing his usual attire; something a little less formal, but likely to be just as expensive. With that expensive taste comes his expensive appearance: clean, styled, decorated admirably and booming with authority. A warmth starts to take a hold of you. 

His movements are harsh and his body moves with brute intention, but behind those curls, his eyes hold sympathy, knowing what is upsetting you before it even spills from your lips. You try to fake a smile but he can see right through it. 

“I thought it was you that organised the party,” he calmly states. 

“I did. But because Jackson instructed me to plan a party means he takes responsibility for it.” 

Mr Holland doesn’t waste a single second. “It isn’t right. It’s one thing to speak to you so rudely, but it’s another to take credit for your hard work, and I’m starting to believe that Jackson doesn’t value you as an intern as much as he values the superiority that comes with it, am I right?” 

Anxiously, your eyes catch Jackson lazily hanging over the bar and demanding another drink. If Mr Holland were to know the truth, it would get Jackson in a lot of trouble and the people-pleaser inside you is screaming at you to just deny it all. Your skewed perception of professionalism means skipping over these things, something about snitching just seems so petty and childish, and that’s not the impression you want to give Mr Holland of all people.

Mr Holland’s stern voice brings you back. “You’re not answering to him now, you’re answering to me. Am. I. Right?” 

You gulp. “Yes, sir.” 

“I intend to have a word with Jackson--” 

“Mr Holland, it’s okay, really--” You try to protest but he quickly rests his hand on top of yours, his warmth enveloping it completely, and your mind halts. Your heart flutters the moment his fingers curl just the little bit tighter, a compassion that says more than words could. It’s genuine, caring, but firm in a way that’s supportive, pledging to do right by you. 

“He will apologise to you and let everyone know the truth.” 

“Please, I don’t want to cause a hassle or stir anything in the office, I just want to do well. And what would it change if people knew the truth? It doesn’t bother me that much, honestly. Besides, you know the truth. That’s all that matters to me.” Desperately and without thinking, you twist your hand and your fingers interlock, returning the squeeze with a soft smile. Mr Holland tries his best to return the sentiment but you can tell the whole ordeal still troubles him and sits discontented by your side, a regretful sigh heaving through his lips. Soon, after a silent plea to let it go, he eventually sits level with you with a brighter sparkle to his eyes and instantly, the mood is lifted. You notice how his hand doesn’t leave yours. 

“You at least deserve a drink.” 

“I shouldn’t, I’m closing up tonight and I’m working early tomorrow.” 

He scowls for what seems like the hundredth time tonight, facing issue after issue the more you expose Jackson’s true nature. “It’s Saturday tomorrow, you should be having a day off.” 

“It’s laughable you think I get a day off,” you chuckle. The sad thing is, he thinks you’re joking. Jackson often sends you his overdraft of reports to complete over the weekend and has the cheek to deem you lucky that he gives you so much wisdom and experience. You can’t imagine Mr Holland being aware of this…

“Don’t be silly darling, everyone is entitled to days off. Even Taylor took a day off today for his birthday.” 

Again, your scathing laughter meets his ears and he tilts his head, that skewed eyebrow lifting high into his forehead. “No offence sir, but with his position, he can afford to. I don’t think interns have that same benefit--”

“Of course you do, it’s company policy that everyone is entitled to a day off on their birthday.” Before you get a word in, he’s already pulling out his phone from his suit pocket. “Tell me when your birthday is so I can make sure you get it off, and I know when to get you a birthday present. Taylor too--”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.”

“We do it for all our employees, regardless if you’re an intern or not.” His calendar flashes to life before his eyes. “So when is it? June? July?” 

Your mouth suddenly goes dry and it gawps like a fish, not a usual response to such an easy question. Your fingers knead together on your lap as the sadness once again materialises and Mr Holland quickly senses something is amiss.

“It’s…it’s today. My birthday is…was today.” 

Mr Holland’s eyes widen with horror. It’s no less than a minute later that he finally replies. “And Jackson has you working?” 

“Since 7am this morning. I had asked for my birthday off two months ago because I did actually read the company policies, but he said interns can’t request holidays because they’re not permanent. I didn’t think anything of it.” 

“What?! For fuck’s sake…” Mr Holland twists his chair violently, its legs colliding with the table as he tries to face you more directly and leans forward, your knees slotting into the space between his. The wave of his anger has rolled back even higher in its tide and now, unlike before, there’s a vein popping at his temple. “Let me just make this clear, okay? Correct me if I’m wrong. You’re telling me that Jackson has knowingly denied you of your birthday holiday entitlement and instead had you plan someone else’s birthday just so that he can take credit for it, make you work through it and clean up after it as well?”

God. In his words it sounds so desperately sad. Up until this point, you were able to distract yourself from getting caught up in the tragedy of it all, but now there’s nothing stopping the gates from opening and wallowing in self-pity. Although your blurring eyes tell of your true emotions, the forced smile on your lips does everything it can to convince both you and Mr Holland that you’re not bothered by it. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

Mr Holland’s heart inevitably sinks. In that moment, he thinks of the cruelty behind Jackson ordering you to buy and wrap his present for Taylor when you have none to open. He thinks of you, alone, buying the candles of the birthday cake you wouldn’t be blowing out. He thinks of you, just hours ago as the crowd sings happy birthday to another person, blissfully ignorant of your sorrow. He thinks of the hours you spent working when you should have been with your friends and family. It’s all of the things you truly deserve, but have been robbed from you. 

He reaches once again for your hand, now resting on your lap, and the tips of his fingers graze your thigh. You would be a fool to miss it. “Darling,” he sincerely murmurs, almost as quiet as a whisper. “I’m so sorry.” 

The fake smile takes lead and the rebel tear is wiped away. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

“But it’s not okay. You…you didn’t even get to have a drink.” Damnit, your cheeks are wet again. “Did you at least get a break today?” Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO.

In fact, you spend so much time failing to not cry that Mr Holland assumes the worst. He takes in a long, deep breath and lures you into his embrace with a hand creeping up to the back of your head, and the second your forehead hits his shoulder, the dams break.  

“I’m just so tired,” you sniff. 

“You’ve been overworked, darling, that’s why.” His hand passes over your hair, gently cupping the curve of your head as he takes in every hiccup. His breath flows past your ears smoothly, broken up every few seconds with whispers of comfort. You feel horribly embarrassed, crying into the expensive suit of your CEO at the party you organised on your birthday: definitely not the definition of professionalism you are chasing. 

“I’m sorry. I promise I’m not usually like this.” You retreat from his shoulder but the hand cupping the back of your head prevents you from travelling too far and you’re stuck, just inches from Mr Holland’s pitying eyes. He keeps you concealed from the crowd, but it’s not enough to hide from the burning glare of Jackson, his eyes drawing daggers at you from over Mr Holland’s shoulder. He’s somewhat frozen in a stupor, scarily steady for a man who was flailing over the bar minutes ago, but anger is a quick cure for intoxication. 

Mr Holland’s voice sidles quietly into your ear. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Get yourself up to bed, I’ll deal with Jackson.” 

“But--”

“I will not take no for an answer. Now go.” You shiver at the stern tone, appearing only as he turns to lock eyes with Jackson who’s faring a guilty look upon his face. As Mr Holland brings you both to a stand, he gently encourages you towards the golden doors and although you should be indulging in the relief of finally being let off, you can’t pull your focus away from Mr Holland’s cold stare that refuses to stray from Jackson. In the few seconds that it takes to walk from your chair to the doors, a clear, obvious shift in mood transpires, one that is felt by the entire room because now it isn’t just you that notices Mr Holland’s sudden decline in temperament. Evidently, everyone is quick to sense the tension. The crowd’s lively dancing now settles into an awkward shuffle and the singing dulls into hushed whispers because they know to never underestimate the seriousness of Mr Holland’s anger. It’s uncomfortable and intimidating, even more so if you’re the reason for his vexation and if that’s the case, you should be on your knees begging for his forgiveness. It’s the one power Mr Holland holds that Taylor, his business partner, his equal, doesn't possess. This is your first time seeing him exercise this power and it’s incredibly daunting. 

The beat of your heels clicking their way up the staircase is a quick one, not daring to hang around the unease any longer. The fresh smell of washed cotton that greets you in your room winds you down and you don’t spare a second of reflection before you strip yourself of your stiff dress, blister-inducing heels, thick make-up and the heavy stress. You slip right between the sheets, ready to drift asleep. 

The lights are switched off, your eyes are closed and your body properly relaxes. Yet inexplicably you can’t settle into your bed no matter how much you toss and turn. Rationale convinces you that it’s because you’re in a bed different from your own, that the mattress doesn’t have the mould of your body imprinted on it, and although it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, your inner conscience is telling you something else…

Flashes of memories made just half an hour prior spring to the surface and suddenly you’re watching yourself converse with Mr Holland again. But it isn’t exactly how you remember it.

For example, his hand is on your lap, gripping the curve of your thigh with his heat scorching through your skin when you know that, in reality, it was nothing more than a soft sweep. And when you both stood, you know he guided you with a gentlemanly hand, yet your dream sees his hand curving down the slope of your ass and squeezing the flesh. You have to refuse the idea of you shivering with arousal from hearing Mr Holland’s stern growl because truthfully, it was nerves. 

Or…was it both? 

You try to ignore it, but the seed has already been planted. Now all you can visualise is his fleeting touches, his soft voice praising you and calling you darling, the twinkle in his eyes as he sympathised for you, the caress of his hand through your hair as he comforted you, the way he cared for you, and fucking hell, the exhilaration of seeing him protect you so defensively when no one else did. His taut jaw, his clenched fists, his dark eyes, the pulsing vein at his temple, his eminence that commanded the room, the list is endless. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter, succumbing to the pleasure of your own fingers toying with your clit. You don’t quite remember the exact moment your hand slipped beneath your underwear, too caught up in your fantasy of Mr Holland to realise. Regardless, the movie in your mind continues to play out and by now, none of it reflects any real events from tonight - it’s all purely fictional.

His hand slides up between your thighs. He dons a devilish grin because he knows there’s a whole crowd blissfully unaware behind him. An innocent gasp slips from your lips and it lures his eyes to your mouth, panting as he traces the letters of his name over your covered cunt as a sign as to who it belongs to. Overrun with anticipation, you bite your lip, feeling the pad of his finger slip beneath your thong and…

“Oh my god! Shit!” Your body seizes, curling into itself as your fingers dull to a small twitch between your clenched thighs. There’s a blissful moment where you ravish the hot rush of blood pulsing at your pussy, letting it bubble until it slows to a simmer, and only when you come down from your high minutes later do you fully realise what has just happened. Eyes split wide open, you rise from your bed.

You just masturbated fantasising over your CEO. 

What in the hell have you gotten yourself into? 

~~~~

The morning comes surprisingly quickly and the hotel's thin curtains don't fully shield you from the sun's glare. It’s bright, directly in your face and if you didn’t know any better, you would think that it’s spotlighting you because it knows what you did last night. As if you forgot…

The guilt still ruins your conscience and you feel nothing but regret; fantasising and sexualising Mr Holland’s kindness is just the pinnacle of everything you disagree with and it doesn’t exactly define the sort of professionalism you strive for. 

Shaking it off as best you can, you refresh yourself with a shower and a harsh splash of cold water to your face, and by the time you open your laptop it’s 9am. There hasn’t been any emails from Jackson so far which you’re not too sure if you’re shocked by. It’s typical on a Saturday morning for Jackson to send you multiple reports with deliberately vague instructions that you would somehow have to decode and translate for yourself. But regarding last night’s events, perhaps he’s heeded Mr Holland’s words and decided to honour your weekend entitlements. 

The white screen stares back at you, watching you nervously bite your nails as if you’re expecting a red notification to pop up, attached to an email from Jackson with hungover words. A minute or two passes by and alas, nothing. Not a word. In all honesty, you don’t have an issue with it, not at all, but it means that your routine is completely disrupted and you’re struggling to decide what to do with yourself. And without work, you have nothing to distract you from last night’s sin while it plagues your mind. 

A new sweat arises and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, and that’s the part you think is the worst. Why did it feel so fucking good?

What brings you out of your self-loathing is three quick, quiet knocks echoing from your door in quick succession. Curious, you open the door and when you see who stands there in all his formal glory, you wish you hadn’t. Your heart immediately jumps to your mouth. 

“Oh, Mr Holland--hi. I wasn’t expecting you…” Your words fade into a soft whisper when your eyes spot a small pink bag, its ribbon handles hooked daintily onto his fingers. Surely that can’t be what you think it is…?

He’s painfully quiet, a small smile painting his lips at what he sees; he’s never seen you dress so casually before and he wants to take a good long look at you, unsure of when he’ll see such a sight again. The weight of his stare burns holes through you, heating you from within.

Not a second later, he holds out the pink bag towards you and you forget to breathe. 

“Happy belated birthday,” he gently voices. Your fingertips graze each other as you take it from him. For such a small, delicate bag, it’s certainly weighty and your stomach drops thinking about how much money he’s stupidly wasted on you…

“Thank you sir, really. You didn’t have to do that.” A nervous chuckle escapes your dry mouth. “How…how did you get this so quickly? It’s barely past 9 in the morning.”

“I have a few contacts who owe me a few favours. And I just felt so guilty about you missing your birthday. Sorry you couldn’t celebrate it like you should’ve.”

 “Like I said, it’s okay--” 

He shakes his head disapprovingly but surely, a taunting smirk begins to form. “Am I going to have to give you the same ‘talking to’ I gave Jackson last night to make you realise that it is definitely not okay?”

Yes, yes, yes, fucking yes. “No, no, of course not. Sorry, I suppose that’s just the people-pleaser in me.” 

Mr Holland stands stoic before you, his head slightly tilted and his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes are watching you endearingly, drawing you into him, but everything else about him oozes something that makes you want to swallow a little harder. His confidence in himself is mildly intimidating and you wish you could feel the same. Just his being here creates a dizzying effect on you that you just can’t shake. 

“You can think of this as a congratulations of sorts too.” 

You tilt your head. “Congratulations?” 

“Mh-hm,” his eyes flit over your confusion, a devilish, haunting smirk gracing his wet lips. “Congratulations on becoming a permanent member of Taylor and I’s company.” 

Mr Holland admiring you be damned, you find yourself taking a step back in shock. “Are you…are you serious?” 

“Of course I’m serious, do you think I would lie to you?” 

“Not at all, I just, I thought it was going to be Jackson’s decision. I am his intern.” 

You aren’t a fool to miss the way his jaw ticks at the mention of Jackson’s name and all too quickly, a ferocious fire consumes his eyes. A small shiver cuts through your skin. “You don’t work for Jackson anymore because Jackson no longer works for me.” 

“What?!” 

“What did you think when I said I was going to deal with Jackson? That he was going to continue working for me even after finding out he was treating you badly? Or finding out that he orders you to do his work over the weekends? Or even when he blackmails you into doing jobs beyond your remit? How could you possibly think that I would let that sleazy bastard feed off my pay when I know he isn’t capable of the job? You’re far more deserving of the position than he is, far more deserving of the appreciation and beyond capable.”

“Sir, I…I can’t thank you enough. I’m very grateful. I won’t let you down, I promise.” 

“I know you won’t. Although I do sometimes wish you would’ve told me or Taylor about Jackson’s behaviour sooner. I don’t tolerate that kind of exploitation, not even for a second and you shouldn’t have either.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just so caught up in wanting to do well that I would’ve done anything to please the company.”

“Maybe you should stop spending your time trying to please other people, and focus on pleasing yourself.” His face gravitates just a hairsbreadth towards yours and in quieter, darker words, he whispers… “You were certainly capable of pleasing yourself last night.” 

You take a timid step back, mouth agape. You can’t think of anything to say, not when the ringing in your ears starts to resonate louder and louder. Shame swells like a disease and you can feel the bile rising in your throat. You are almost certain you didn’t hear anyone outside your room last night, how could he have possibly known? 

“I…um…I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

He smoothly leans against the door frame, his wicked grin tells you that he doesn’t believe a word you say. Nevertheless, he explains, not to worsen how mortified he knows you already feel, but to reminisce of the surge of adrenaline and lust that coursed through him last night. 

“I came by late last night to drop off your present. I didn’t think you would still be awake so I planned on leaving it at your door, and just as I bent down to place it there, I heard just the softest of moans—“

“I think you must be mistaken—“ An uneasy chuckle barely covers your tracks, leaving you just as compromised as before. 

“I thought you might’ve been with someone, but I then didn’t hear any other voices, so I assumed you were by yourself.” 

“Sir,” you squeak, intending to finish your sentence but you just don’t have the words nor the confidence to deny him of what he already knows. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, exposed and vulnerable without the faintest idea of how to get yourself out of his commanding presence. 

A million and one emotions rage through you and drown you in a fluster. Your feet shuffle nervously beneath you, slowly inching your way back into your hotel room as you sense yourself losing control over the conversation. With a mouth drier than the Sahara desert, there’s not much else you can do or say to avoid falling victim to both Mr Holland’s taunting and your own taunting; last night’s images playing out before you more vividly now that he resurrects them. 

The subject finally diverges, but it doesn’t mean you're any more comfortable with it. “Do you know you’re the only one that addresses me as ‘sir’?” 

You shake your head, eyes inevitably averted. You didn’t know that, you just thought it was professional. 

“You never corrected me.” 

“I didn’t want to.” 

“Why not?” 

“I liked hearing it. Just as much as I liked what I heard last night. But I need to know,” he takes a step to cross the threshold of your hotel room. “Was there anything…anyone in particular crossing your mind?” 

“There was…” His jaw ticks furiously and you instantly get the notion that denying him is simply not a choice here. 

“Who?” He demands in that stern voice you’ve heard only once before. 

One word sits on your tongue and you know that as soon as it breaks the silence, the professionalism you worked so hard to build up will crumble before you. But the risk is entirely worth it. 

“You.” 

Mr Holland’s lips part and releases a snicker as if he knew, and the curl of his smirk becomes dangerous. He lets the singular word ring out into the air, and the tension envelopes you both in a suffocating bubble until he finally speaks. “You…what?” 

“You, sir.” 

His chest rumbles with approval and you even feel its vibrations fluttering low in your stomach. Desire consumes you; a desire to know what he’s thinking, to know what he’s planning to do with that compromising information, to figure out whether he’ll respond to it in a way that satiates your more promiscuous desires like the ones that distracted you last night. You would give anything to see what’s going on inside his head. 

Inexplicably, he nods towards your pink bag, easily brushing over your last conversation like it was nothing to him and it completely throws you off. “You should open it.” 

It takes a second to drag your eyes away from him. You actually forgot you’re still holding it in your hands. The tissue paper rustles loudly as you reach in-- “Inside.” Mr Holland urges. With a short nod, you lead the way, allowing him to slowly close the door behind you with a gut-wrenching squeak and a thunderous boom.

The second the door shuts, the air becomes taut, strained and harder to breathe and you dedicate all your efforts into ignoring your last conversation just as easily as he had, but he’s standing right behind you and the warmth of his breath skates past your ear and it’s all you can think about. Even without disclosing what he now knows, the presence of Mr Holland alone would bring about such unnerving effects, so you don’t find yourself at fault for struggling to keep it together. 

From the pink bag you pull out a small white and gold box, wrapped with yet another ribbon. Inside is a silver chain, light and dainty, but the pendant it carries is nothing alike. The reflection of the sun hits the circular-cut diamond, becoming iridescent as it hits your eyes. The stone is slightly on the larger side, bigger than any other necklace you own, but it sits perfectly in the balance of being flashy yet classy. Expensive yet tasteful. It’s a piece that you can’t price and that exact thought scares you. 

“It’s beautiful,” you softly murmur. The chain cascades elegantly across your fingers, almost mesmerising to watch. 

Your eyes catch his movement in the mirror in front of you and steals your attention away from the necklace. He holds out his hand by your side, soft but firm. 

“May I?” You almost flinch as his words hit your ear, the ripple of your shiver continues for long after. As the chain pools in his hand, he is equally gentle, handling it with expertise while he lifts it carefully over head and rests the pendant tenderly in the dip between your clavicles. Its icy cold touch seers your skin, heat radiating with each grazing touch of his fingers as they clasp the chain together behind your neck. Once secure, you admire the way it shines brightly against your skin tone, eyes momentarily lost in your image until you realise that yours are the only pair looking back at you. Mr Holland remains engrossed with the curve of your neck, his proximity close enough to be counting the beats of your pulse as it thumps beneath your skin and for all you know, it’s elevating, thrashing harder and harder while you watch with wide eyes as Mr Holland presses his lips against it. 

The second his lips meet your skin, his hands find your hips, holding you steady to prevent you from buckling. A numbing tingle shoots through your nervous system at the feeling of Mr Holland swiping his tongue across the reddening bruise he’s leaving behind. Every kiss is with purpose, targeting each and every sweet spot as if he had a map to each of their location: the peak of your neck that connects to your jaw, the sensitive spot just millimetres below your ear, the slight curve of your shoulder that sits beneath the chain. He instantly claims you, and you show no sign of resistance when you find yourself voluntarily tilting your neck, begging for more.

You finally meet his eyes in the mirror, realising how cavernous his blown-out pupils are; that if you search too far you’ll become trapped. “This…” he whispers, planting another kiss to your ear, his hands beckoning to the chain, “is the only thing I’ll allow you to wear while I fuck you.” 

A shameless, breathless mewl whines from your throat and a rampage of endorphins consumes you. As the first piece of insight to his mind, you don’t get nearly enough time to let it process in your head before his clawing hands are tugging at the drawstrings of your joggers. 

The small nip to your neck is a wake-up call. This is real and this isn’t a fantasy of yours, only that it will be a recreation of what had you orgasming last night. 

“You know, I can be a people pleaser too.” His hand slips beneath your joggers, but refrains from slipping beneath your underwear. “I can please you in so many ways.” As a testimony to his words, his fingers trace over the silk of your underwear, catching your bud in its travels and a silent gasp bursts from your lips. “But not without earning it. Do as you’re told, and I’ll do exactly that.” 

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, words vacant, eyes rolling. 

“Are you listening to me?” The hand on your hip squeezes harshly and you jerk in his arms. You have never agreed to something quicker in your life.

“Yes, sir! Oh—” 

“Good. Then you can start by closing those curtains over there.” 

His hand slips fluidly out of your joggers when you force yourself away from the subtle torment. The light dims a little, however you think it’s more for privacy than for light. When your back turns once again, Mr Holland sits himself on the edge of the bed, legs spread and leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Whatever it is about him in that single second triggers something in you; attraction, lust, sex appeal, or all of the above. Whatever it is, it compels you to give yourself in to him.

A messy mixture of want, need and unrelenting desire brings you to your knees before him. His eyes sweep over your face, examining, analysing, translating every desperate twitch. He can even see your lips parting where he spots the remnants of teeth marks from when you had nervously bitten them in hidden moments. Smoothly, the pad of his thumb brushes over your lip, tugging it into a pout because that’s what he wants to see; you, desperate, pouting, begging for him. It soon pops back into place, his hand now curling around your chin and pulling you closer. His own lips are nothing more than a breath away from yours and you think he’s going to finally kiss you, but annoyingly, he only allows you to feel the shape of the words as he whispers them to you. 

“So what is it about me then, hm? What do I do that turns you on?” 

“It’s…it’s stupid.” 

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Let me rephrase.” The grip on your chin tightens and your noses collide. “Tell me what it is about me that turns you on.” 

“Last night at the party, you were the only one that…cared. You made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.” 

“What else?” 

“You stood up to Jackson for me - you just looked so determined like you were unstoppable.” 

He tilts his head in the other direction now, leaning in just as close, your breaths mingling together. You’re so desperate to feel his lips on yours. “And?” 

“When…when you touched my thigh--”

“You were burning.”

“I was nervous--” 

“Because of me.” 

“Of course because of you. I was scared of disappointing you.” 

A small snicker escapes him and leaves behind a wicked smirk. Two hands now firmly cradle your jawline and you think the moment has finally come. Why else would your heart be thumping in your chest? 

“Not possible. I always knew you were a good girl. And I think you like being told that, don’t you? You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it. I saw that coy little look on your face the first time I told you how impressed I was. It was obvious that no one else had praised you like I did - you couldn’t keep yourself together. And I bet if I kept telling you how fucking sweet you are, and how much of an perfect angel I know you are for me, the second I slip my fingers into your tight little pussy, you’d be an absolute mess.” 

Well, he’s not wrong. You’re already soaked. 

“Please, sir,” you whimper. “Please just kiss me.” 

Finally, finally, he pulls you in for a long, languid kiss, his tongue takes lead to taste every part of your bitten lips as they slot perfectly in between his, lingering longer with each time he captures them. The blood rushes so quickly through your veins you think you might implode, overwhelmed by just how good it feels that your hands suddenly grapple onto the cuffs of his shirt. 

A satisfied hum buzzes against your lips, twisting your own into a small grin that unbeknown to you, Mr Holland could actually feel. 

“Let me see you,” he demands, his hands plucking at the hem of your sweatshirt. When you don’t do it right away, a tight grip coils around your neck and stops the gasp leaving your mouth. “Do. As. You’re. Told.” 

You’re baring your all for him (all except a diamond necklace) in a matter of seconds, standing before him as he leisurely leans back against the bed, resting on his elbows. Those predatory eyes roam your body, mapping out the shape and details, and imprinting them to memory. 

“So fucking pretty…” He deliberately watches for your reaction and you crumble under the praise resulting in a mirthful laughter to shake his chest. His arms reach for your waist, luring you in with the tight grab of your hips until his lips sit just below your ribs. The heat from his breath hitting your skin makes you involuntarily wriggle, but he doesn’t allow for any movement from you, not unless he permits it. You feel his lips suddenly, trailing across your ribs and up your chest. “Do you know what good girls like you do for me?”

“What?” You breathlessly murmur.

“They get on their knees,” Mr Holland pauses to let you act on it. Now you’re looking up at him as his knuckle ghosts over your cheeks and he mingles closer. “They look at me right in the eyes and they beg me to give them a taste, to let them suck me off because they’ll do anything for a reward, even if it is just a few words of praise. So let’s hear you, pretty girl. I want to hear you beg me with that sweet, innocent voice of yours.” 

You take a cautious breath. “I want to taste you so badly, sir. Please. Will you let me?” 

“Hmm.” He purses his lips. Shit. It isn’t good enough for him and he spots the panic in your eyes. All of a sudden, you begin pleading in such a desperate, childish tone you didn’t know you were capable of. Even your lip begins pouting as the need to please him becomes so overwhelming that, unexpectedly, your eyes water, like you’re facing life or death. And he is the decider. 

“Wait, wait, no, please, I want to make you feel so good, so, so, so good. I can do it, I promise, and I can be good for you if you let me. Please sir, I really need it. I’ll do anything.” 

Mr Holland smiles and gently kisses you with approval, just the shortest of pecks of reassurance before he leans back and nods towards the zipper of his suit trousers, tented with the erection that’s pleading to be satisfied. You waste no time in unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling free his hard cock that almost dwarfs your hand and you stare at him with such bewilderment, a stare that is returned by a certain smugness, a confidence that has you licking your lips. 

There’s a surge of instinct coursing through you and your brain convinces you that there’s nothing else you should be doing, that your whole purpose at this very moment is to do as you promise; to please him, to make him feel good, so when you hear his moans the second you wrap your lips around him, your heart flutters with fulfilment. It’s a sensation you keep chasing, growing stronger the longer you bob your head up and down his cock, every time his praise seeps from his lips, and you just about lose it when his fingers comb through your hair. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. Not too little, not too much. Consistency is key. 

You’re not sure how much of an idea he has about just how dedicated you are in your mission to prove yourself to him, that you’re desperate to show how capable you are by what you’re willing to do; perhaps a horrible side-effect of having to constantly prove yourself to Jackson with each conversation, but with Mr Holland, there’s an element of belief and confidence: a contradiction between Jackson’s ‘I don’t believe you until you prove it’ versus Mr Holland’s ‘do it because I know you can’. 

Mr Holland’s head falls back, his eyes closed, and falls into an eerie silence. If it wasn’t for his hand still combing through your roots, you would’ve thought he wasn’t satisfied with you. Still, you keep going, running your lips and tongue down his shaft and returning slowly back up again where you get a teaser of the bitter-sweet taste you’re vying for. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re undecided of whether you’re doing so well that he’s speechless, or you’re not doing enough that’s worthy of his praise. It’s hard to tell with his head tilted back, and you begin to lose faith. You’ve become so drawn into his voice and words that you feel lost without them.

‘You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it.’

“Sir,” you meekly voice, leaving a beat to suck on the head of his cock. “Am I making you feel good?” 

The depth of his growl sends a spike of arousal straight to your clit. He spits out his words in a manner that’s uncontrollable. “Fucking incredible.”

His head finally lifts and his eyes pin on you, fully blown and dilated. “Look at you - oh fuck - taking me so well. Knew you’d be a good girl but f-fuck, I don’t know if I can hold it in any longer.” 

You reply with a wanton mewl, your dopey, tear-stained eyes saying the words your mouth can’t. You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto the carpet, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens. 

Mr Holland swings forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath. It's slightly tense and panic-inducing but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you have proved yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Mr Holland pants. His grip loosens around you and your lips release him with a pop. The instant your lips are free, he claims them, humming into them with adoration. “That was…” A soft, tender kiss. “The best goddamn…” Then another. “Blow job I’ve ever had.” He kisses you for a final time with a smile laced through it, and rests his forehead on yours to give himself some time to catch his breath. “So good…” he breathes. “So, so, so good. Sweet angel. My sweet angel.”

There isn’t anything to describe the burst of achievement that swarms your chest when you hear those words and your cheeks inevitably heat under his hands. You’re smiling, obviously smiling and no matter how hard you bite your lips to hide it, the pull is too strong. You make yourself far too goddamn easy to read so when Mr Holland catches a glimpse of your reaction, he smirks, clearly amused, and simultaneously reaches down the length of your body until his hand finds sanctum between your thighs. 

“Hmm, you’re soaked, darling. Don’t you think we should do something about it? After all, you’re earned your reward, and I’m dying for a taste of that messy, little pussy of yours.” 

You release a shaky breath when his fingers start exploring. “Yes, oh god, yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Better. Let’s not make that mistake again.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Good. Now--”  In a vice-like grip, Mr Holland encircles your waist and your body burns against the rough cashmere of his suit. It’s surprisingly stimulating as he casually hauls you off your feet, but you would much rather the heat of his skin. Nevertheless, your back soon meets the soft cotton of your sheets as he lays you to rest on the bed, remaining shadowing above you basking in the sight of your naked, wanting body. The diamond that nestles deep into the base of your throat twinkles obnoxiously in his eyes and he almost grows jealous of the way it hugs your neck. However, it's a jealousy he can overlook as his eyes wander over the peak of your breasts and your glistening cunt, because he knows that they are all for him. 

Mr Holland promptly sinks to his knees, placing his head in between your thighs, his eyes never straying from your cunt. There isn’t a moment of hesitation when he swings his arms to cross over your hips, dragging your legs effortlessly over his shoulders and diving, tongue first, into your cunt. It’s a complete invasion of his touch, his tongue immediately swirling around your clit with a careful, consistent pressure that deep down, you know will end you in minutes. The gasp is telling of your struggle to keep composed, gradually crescendoing into a moan as that amorous tongue descends down your slit, licking you up in long, fat strips. An urge in your hips begs for attention, wanting to raise higher to ease the tension building deep in your stomach, but you're trapped, locked in place with no routes of escape and you have to tell yourself that you just have to tough it out. 

But it’s harder said than done when he begins slotting his tongue into your hole, tasting and caressing every inch of you he’s capable of reaching. Digging deeper and deeper, his mouth consumes the entirety of your cunt, humming into it to push you further over the edge. He knows you’re hanging on by a thread, but it doesn’t mean he’s willing to slow down. And just then, an evil, malicious thought spawns in his mind which he voices immediately. 

“You’re not cumming until I say so. Understood?” 

The feeling of you clenching to stop the impending orgasm has him chuckling. He knew you were close. 

“Such a sweet, little angel. So obedient too, right?” He blows a gentle breeze onto your clit and you simply whimper in response. “Right?”

“Y-yes, sir.” 

Satisfied, Mr Holland has your cunt in his mouth again, salivating over its taste as he suckles on your clit, your folds, your skin, anything to lure out what he knows he’s going to get eventually, but it makes it twice as appetising when he knows your orgasm is only at his command. 

Meanwhile, your heart stammers in your chest with each tug of his lips. Whatever sanity you have left to cling onto, you claw at it with desperate hands, fighting to hold up the wall that blocks the blood rushing to your cunt, holding your breath to stop the bubble from bursting, because fuck, you are ready to snap. You can’t help but notice how he’s taken a page from your book, pleasuring you at a steady consistent pace, not too much but not too little. Unsurprisingly, the result is the same but the conditions are far worse.

“Oh my god, please let me cum, I can’t hold it anymore.” 

His grip only tightens, his tongue moves faster and his mouth gets hotter. 

Your hands, of a mind of their own, decide to condemn your obedience and push at his arms around your hips in an attempt to get away. Despite his obvious strength, you somehow manage to get a microsecond of respite, but his mouth only sucks you back in again, murmuring only one word that runs laps around your head.

“Obedience.” 

“I can’t, sir, please, I can’t h-hold on. Fuck!” 

“Oh dear.” 

“NO! No, no, no, no, okay, okay, I’ll do it, I can hold on. Just…please go slower.” 

His dark cavernous eyes meet yours from behind his arms, unmoving even as he relishes the taste of your slick, challenging you for only a second before he thankfully listens to your wishes. Weakened, your head flops back onto the bed with a small bounce, eyes drifting shut as the feeling in your stomach calms and a small relief hugs your heart. It’s a small price to pay to lose the feeling of euphoria that was going to course through you…only if Mr Holland had let it or if your people-pleasing traits had failed you, none of which had actually happened. 

The feeling deflates but the pleasure still lingers.

“You taste so delicious, darling. I could eat you all day.” Arousal jumps to your clit like a flash of electricity. “And you’re doing so well for me, how could I ever stop?” This time, it’s his tongue, soft and caressing. “And this pussy; so pretty, so fucking pretty, I could just play with it for days.” His finger begins circling your clit not too long after he spits into it. By now, you realise what he’s doing. He’s feeding into your need for praise that, along with the small touches and sweeping licks, builds you up just as quickly and suddenly as before, and once again you’re struggling to cope. “I know you can be such a good girl for me, I know you can do as I say, and you have no idea how much it turns me on when you do.” 

“Sir…” You warn. He instantly recognises the desperation. 

“I’ve got one last instruction for you, angel.” He sucks on your clit for just a couple of seconds, just to get you closer and closer to falling apart. “Cum for me. Cum in my mouth.” 

“Fuck!” You scream as an endless stream of euphoria consumes you, hitting you in a sudden white wash of heat that riddles your entire body top to toe. You can feel your cunt clenching erratically, between homing an orgasm and suffering under Mr Holland's continuous lashings, it can't, not for one second, rest until either relent. You feel your own slick, hot and bothered, trickling down your ass but before it gets the chance to meet with the white sheets beneath you, Mr Holland sweeps it up expertly with his tongue, partnered with a primal growl of pleasure.

By the time Mr Holland has finished cleaning up every inch of your cunt and ass with his tongue, he proceeds to kiss his way gently up your body, not forgetting to leave your tits untouched and pinches your buds between his lips. You have just enough energy to cradle his head, allowing yourself the pleasure to run your fingers through his hair, moving with him while he leaves sharp kisses to your chest, your collar bone, your neck, ear and jaw, until once again, those hungry lips claim yours.

Still somewhat recovering, you purr quietly, content with the overall sense of pleasure, both of your sexual and people-pleasing needs.

Your lips slowly part. The kiss ceases but your noses brush off one another gently, still basking in the blissful, intimate aftermath of what's just happened. Your CEO above you remains, hovering over you with admiration in his eyes, running over your features as if it is the first time he's seeing them, adoring them all over again.

There's two words sitting on the tip of his tongue, hidden behind a smirk because he knows what he'll see when he speaks them.

"You're beautiful."

Of course, his prediction comes true. Your cheeks redden, your eyes roll away and your teeth sink into your swollen lips, muttering incoherently about it not being true but thanks him incessantly, but Mr Holland is too caught up in your coy modesty to rebuttal. It's just like the first time he complimented you, and he realises then and there that he's addicted to being the person that makes you shy, blushed, diffident.

Being a CEO, he does indeed posses significant power in the palm of his hand, obtained by hard work, dedication, commitment and sacrifice, but for him, there isn't a power stronger than the one he has over you and all it takes is a few, simple, praising words.

"We still have another three hours until check out."

Your eyes and ears perk up. "Sir?"

Cautiously, he shuffles above you, innocent until you feel his cock sliding into you and he relishes the catch in the back of your throat at the sudden pressure forcing its way fluidly into you. You're simply speechless, questioning if it'll ever end as he pushes every inch of him inside you, breaching and stretching the boundaries of your walls. Mr Holland snags your bottom lip between his teeth, harshly biting as a relief for the tight grip that surrounds his cock.

When your ass eventually meet his hips, you both release a groan in unison, breaths mixing and mingling until Mr Holland breaks the silence.

"You're gonna look even more beautiful when you're all fucked out and dumb for my cock, all with a diamond wrapped round your neck."

His hips snap back at a frighteningly fast pace and thrusts in even more aggressively. The pain is immeasurably exhilarating. Your thighs squeeze his waist, mouth agape without a single breath escaping.

"Think of this as a second birthday gift." Like before, he draws back and slams into you without mercy. "Do as you're told and you'll get your third on Monday in my office."

Somehow, your gut tells you that you won't have a problem with that. Not at all.

[reidslovely]

there were two things that came to mind the first being peter yelling at her and he’s never done that before so reader trying to avoids him for the rest of the day and when she does interact with him she’s silent or acting almost robotic

the second one that came to mind was them getting into a fight and her trying to quit

i see your second thought being super plausible honestly, but let’s combine them. peter is very particular about his schedule and follows it to a t for the most part. the fight started the first or second week she works for him. all over a missed appointment and she swears she wrote it down, but peter is upset because he doesn’t have time for this meeting. he’s got lab time, and a presentation today. he doesn’t have time to meet with this potential investor today.

“what do you mean you missed a appointment!” peter yelled. the slight raise in his voice shocked her as well as him. he cleared his throat and left his suit jacket on the back of his desk chair. “can you not operate the shared calendar i swear doll it’s like you’re completely helpless sometimes.”

that comment strikes a nerve, and it doesn’t help she’s already on the verge of tears from him yelling. peter’s never made her feel so small. in fact he’s only ever been encouraging. and supportive of her she wasn’t helpless, she was learning the ropes of this company still. and her boyfriend being who he was didn’t help, everyone else just assumed she batted her eyes and but her lip to the position.

“well i’m sorry pete.” she jokes dryly lightly trying not to show her hurt. “we can’t all be a super genius”

“yeah but i expected better from you.” all over a calendar

he walks away annoyed. she doesn’t know if it’s with her or the situation but the tone of his voice alone makes her sick to her stomach. she brings him his lunch quietly and doesn’t bother to eat with him like she usually does. she keeps their interaction short and firm.

“doll can you make a call for me?”

“sure.” she nodded not even looking at him as she takes the paper.

“doll.” his voice sung out later, “will you get these filed for me?” he kissed her temple hands on her shoulders squeezing. she shrugged him off nodding.

“right away mr. parker.”

he was thinking of a way to apologize. sending flowers to her desk probably wouldn’t do much and may insight a few scoffs from other employees. not wanting to embarrass her he settled on waiting till they were alone in the building to formally apologize.

but she comes into his office a few hours later before they leave to go home with her two weeks in shaky hand.

“doll..what’s this?” peter asked reading over the paper, hand reaching out for her shaking one pulling her closer to him.

“i don’t wanna work for you. i’m..i’m scared it’ll ruin our relationship.” she mumbled out tears threatening her eyes. peter’s heart swelled in his chest feeling lodged in his throat. “and i really like being your girlfriend and i love you and i don’t..i don’t want you to yell at me over a stupid google calendar.”

“oh doll..no. i was upset earlier i didn’t mean it. i wasn’t even upset at you it was just time stress.” he sat her on his knee. arm wrapping around her waist holding her in place to look at him. “i wasn’t mad or disappointed at all. i know i said something really hurtful and i’m very sorry. and i’m even more sorry for yelling at you.” she sniffled as he spoke, her hand resting on his chest flattening out some wrinkles. he whispered softly to her his free hand rubbing her side.

“i want you here. okay? but if you want to quit i understand and i won’t stop you but i’ll be sure to use my words more carefully and i will never raise my voice again. i am so sorry and i’m going to do better.”

the care in his voice made it easy to believe him, that and his big doe eyes staring into hers assuring her this was the truth.

“don’t ever yell at me again and i’ll stay.” she bargains. peter laughed bobbing his head.

“deal.”

“and i want a raise. for dealing with you here and at home” peter laughed this time throwing his head back.

“i’ll talk to human resources about the ethical standards about that.” he responds standing her up off his lap. as he packs up his office for the night.

“m.j.’s your human resources officer i think she’ll agree with me.” you hummed turning the light off as they left the room.

[starker1975]

I love writing Peter as a shy, virginal sweetheart. But one of these dayssss, I’m going to give him a major, systemic upgrade, and write him as a boss bitch who rocks Tony’s world. This tik tok has influenced me.

[muse-of-gods]

CEO Peter loves arranging meetings outside of his office as often as possible. Because every time he needs to go somewhere, he can call his driver Tony whom he loves to flirt with and hit on. Tony turns him down every time, but that doesn't mean that Peter would stop his attempts. Especially because he can see Tony smile every time he thinks Peter isn't looking.

For @starkerfestivals Summer Bingo 2023: CEO Peter

[bunsofhoney]

CEO!Peter and Bodyguard!Wade

[vibraniumarm06-bucket]

A Friendly Smile From the Past ~ Series Masterlist

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader [with College!Bucky/High School!Bucky in flashbacks and mentions

[Ongoing series]

Summary:

When you were young, you were friends with a neighbourhood boy who liked the same things as you. You both grew up together and as long as you had each other and the rest of your friends, there was always a make-believe adventure right around the corner. He grew up to be a successful businessman and seems to have forgotten where he came from.

You haven’t talked to him or the rest of the close-knit group of friends you used to be in years, but the death of a person who had been involved in all of your lives brings him and everyone back to the old neighbourhood. Does time allow you to reconnect and reintroduce him to the life he left behind? Does it allow you to build back the friendships you lost? Will you finally confess your feelings to him? Or is it too late?

One: I'm Fired?

Two: The Funeral

Three: Explaining can be hard

Four: Why won't you tell the truth?

Five:

[vhstown]

ok but regular social media aside spiderverse linkedin would go crazy 😭

[ayyeitssarahh]

Can I get you anything else?

Ceo!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky and Steve try out a new Coffee Shop not knowing Bucky would find interest with one of the workers there. 

Warnings: None(Not that I know of)

Word Count:1.7k

Part 1

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

Bucky’s Pov:

“Hey Buck, I'm gonna go down to that new coffee shop that opened like a month ago and get something, you want anything?” Steve asked, popping his head in the door. 

“Uhh, sure. Get me a small black coffee with one sugar please. Thanks Steve.” I said, looking through some files of some interns who are looking for a job here. 

He nods and leaves.

I sigh, leaning back against my chair and rub my hand over my beard. 

I have been reading these files for hours and I'm exhausted. I need to take a break. 

Pressing the button on my landline, I beep my secretary, “Rae, has Mr. Rogers left yet?” I ask. 

“Not yet sir, shall I tell him to wait?” She asks, responding right away. 

“Yes please.” I answered, standing up and buttoning my suit. I grabbed my phone and walked out of my office, shutting the door, nodding to Thor who stood outside of it as guard. 

He nods back.

Walking towards the elevator, I press the up button, hearing the ding I walk in, clicking number 11 which will take me to the parking garage. 

When the elevators open again, Steve is leaning against his car with his eyes closed. 

“Hey.” I said, walking up to him. 

He opens his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “What made you want to come?”He asks, opening his car door and getting in. 

I shrug, “I needed a break and thought buying my own coffee would be a good 15 minute break.” I said buckling my seat belt and turning on the air conditioning. It is hot as hell in New York today. 

He nods, “Yeah I get it. Trying to find a new trainee can be a lot of work. But I hear this coffee shop is cute and small, and gives a homely vibe. Thought i’d give it a try.” Steve said, pulling into a shopping center and parking in front of a coffee shop named ‘Banners Coffee’. 

We both get out, walking in and seeing there's quite a line. Steve walks over to find a table while I wait in line, getting strange looks seeing as I’m the CEO of Shield Industry and I’m waiting in line in a small coffee shop. 

A couple minutes later, I walk up, looking down at my phone. “Yeah, can I get a small black coffee with one sugar and a Caramel Frappuccino,” I say. Pressing send on my email. 

“Okie dokie, can I get ya anything else?” The cashier said. 

“Uh yeah actually can I-” I stop mid sentence, finally looking up to see a girl with Y/c/h and beautiful Y/c/e looking at me with a small smile on her face. 

I didn’t realize I was staring until she waved her hand in my face, “Sir? Anything else?” She asks again. 

I snapped out of it, “Oh uh yeah, sorry, can I also get a chocolate chip cookie and a maple bar donut?” I ask. 

She smiles and nods, typing it into the register, “Alrighty, that will be 14.62$.” She said, 

I handed her a 20$ bill, “Keep the change Doll.” I said, giving her a wink, brushing my hand against hers while grabbing the receipt, causing her to blush, looking down shyly. 

“Oh uh, Thank you sir.” She said with a smile on her face. 

“Oh please, Call me Bucky doll. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing more of me.” I said, smirking at her.

She nods, “Ok then, Bucky. Your order should be ready in a few minutes, you can just wait over there for it if you’d like.” She said, pointing across the bar where a little sign is hanging that says “Order Pickup Here”. 

I nodded and thanked her again before finding Steve and sitting Down Next to him. 

I take a minute to watch her before looking at Steve, only to find him already looking at me with a smirk. 

“What was that?” He asks, crossing his arms and leaning back. 

“What was what?” I ask, pretending not to know what I was talking about. 

“You know what I mean, Buck. You totally just flirted with that girl.” Steve said. 

“I did not, I just told her my order and she took it.” I shrugged. 

He just shook his head and chuckled. 

We sit in silence for a couple minutes until I hear my name called. I got up and grabbed our orders, walked back to the table and sat down. 

Taking a sip of my coffee, I close my eyes, letting the warm liquid run down my throat, soothing me and calming me down from the stressful day I've had. 

“Wow, this place is nice. We should come here more often, and it’s closer to us than the other one.” Steve said, eating the last of his Maple bar and Frappuccino.  

I nod in agreement. “Yeah, we should start ordering from here now.” I said. 

We both got up and threw our trash away. Walking towards the exit. 

I look back one more time just in time for her to look up and smile. 

Sending her a wave, she waves back and I leave. 

Thinking of a way to see her more often without buying coffee. 

I sit in Steve's car on the way back to the office thinking of what I could do that will help me with this. Looking out the window, I see a for sale sign and suddenly an Idea comes to mind. 

“Steven Grant Rogers? Would it be crazy If I bought that coffee shop we were just at?” I ask. 

“Would you be crazy-Buck! You can't be serious! But then again considering you said my full name, I think you are.” Steve said, shaking his head, pulling into the parking garage. 

“I think it would be crazy, Buck. Why would you want to buy the coffee shop in the first place?” He asks. 

I shrug for what feels like the hundredth time today, “Well I think it would be way easier to expand it and maybe make some more money, Not that we don’t have enough but you know, the more the merrier.” I said as we both got out of the car.

Walking to the elevator I sighed, “Can you just look into it and let me know what you find out about it. I think the idea may be a bit crazy but I want to get to know her more Steve and you know I’m not very good with confrontation. This may be the only way I can get her.” I said as the elevator dinged. 

He nodded, “Of course Buck. I’ll let you know what I find out.” He gave me a small smile and a pat on the back, walking down the hall to his office. 

I take a minute before walking into mine, looking at the files I left from earlier. Sighing and Picking up the most recent one. 

“Hmmm, Peter Parker, age 20, graduated from NYU with a Bachelor's Degree in Business.

Well he seems pretty good, I guess I'll give him a try.” I mumble to myself. 

Pressing the button on my landline, “Rae, send up Mr. Parker please. I’d like to speak with him.” I said. Picking up the files except for his and putting them in a cabinet, locking it. 

Sitting back down I hear a knock on my door. “Come in,” I said.

Peter opens the door, walking in with a nervous smile on my face. 

“You wanted to see me sir?” He asks.

I nod, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of me. 

He takes a seat. 

“So Peter-”I start, leaning forward and folding my hands together. “How would you like to start getting paid? Starting tomorrow as my call boy?” I ask. 

His eyes grow wide, as he nods his head really fast. “R-Really Mr. Barnes? You chose me?” He asks in excitement. 

I nodded and gave him a stern but small, barely noticeable smile. 

“Yes, as my call boy you will be doing errands for Mr. Rogers and I. He needs to give me something, you're my boy. You will get paid 300$ every two weeks. How does that sound?” I ask him. 

He smiles even wider, “It sounds amazing sir. Thank you sir! I promise I won't let you down sir.” He said really fast, standing up and shaking my hand. I nodded and pointed towards the door. 

“Good, now go to Mr. Rogers office and tell that you're my call boy, he will give you a work phone which we will both use in order to contact you. I hope you live up to my expectations. Have a good rest of your day Mr. Parker.” I said. 

He nodded and thanked me again before leaving the room. Finally less stressed now that I figured that out, I start to get ready to leave when my phone rings. 

Setting my briefcase on my desk, I answer it when I see Steve's name. 

“Yeah, what's up man?” I ask. 

“Yeah hey, so I found some stuff out in the coffee shop. Want me to send Peter over with the papers?” He asks. 

I take a minute to think before sighing. “Yeah, send them over, I’m gonna take them home and look them over, I’m tired and can’t stand to spend another minute in my office.” I said. 

“Alright Boss. I just sent Parker to your office, they should be there any minute. Don’t stress yourself out too much , ok?” He said 

“Yeah ok, thanks Cap. I owe you one.” I said, picking up my briefcase and walking towards the door. 

“It’s fine Buck, honestly, I mean It is my job.” He said.

I laugh and thank him again before hanging up. 

Opening the door I see Peter with a yellow folder, I take it from him with a nod and walk towards the elevator. Heading home to rest and learn more about my new investment. 

`````````````````````````````````````````

Hey guys, this is my first Bucky Fic and I hope it’s good. I plan to make this a little series and this is part 1! Please let me know if it's good! Feedback is much appreciated. Thanks, Love!

If you wanna join my taglist for this series click here: The Coffee Shop

[hrtbreakanniversary]

fine line | tom holland [1]

summary: the all put together mr. holland is quick to fall after 5 simple words.

ms. y/l/n just wants a vacation.

pairing: ceo!tom holland x secretary!reader

word count: 5.7k

warnings: descriptions of sexual intercourse, 18+, profanity, nothing much

ONE. LIGHTS UP

All the lights couldn't put out the dark Running through my heart Lights up and they know who you are Know who you are Do you know who you are?

Luminescence lights filled the room. The features of the couple unseen as they moved around the silk sheet covered bed. Slithering himself between the tan legs of the female, pleasure shooting through his body as she screamed with each thrust as a male stood behind him, his lips attached to the bare skin of his shoulder, running his hands up and down his toned abs.

Chills running down his body when the male ran his finger down between his crevices of his bottom, inching closer to the spot that ensued an inch to be touched. A loud smack ran the room causing the both of them to let out a soft laugh at the tease.

The male's attention returned back to the female below him as she swiveled her hips.

Only prompting him to grab the hair of the woman in front of him, pounding into her faster as all of their moans filled the room.

"Fuck, are you close?" The girl didn't answer, resulting in her hair getting pulled back,"Answer me, are you coming?"

The other male's weight moved from behind to in front of the woman. Her response muffled by the sudden intrusion in her mouth.

"Speak louder, baby."

"I'm - I - I'm com-"

_

"Coming!", She replied back to her roommate who alerted that their takeout had arrived.

Urgent fingers ran along the mousepad of the MacBook, her eyes reading over and over again the email of rejecton. Hoping that she was reading it incorrectly. But by the fifth time, she accepted that this was reality.

All she wanted was one thing.

A stupid vacation.

"Asshole!" She exclaimed with her mouth as she repeatedly slammed her hand against the marble counter of her small desk. A meow interrupted her mid slap. "I know, Channing Furtum. No loud noises after 10 or else Mr.Hong is going to file another complaint." She sighed at the cat that perched itself comfortably on one of her wooden shelves.

"Please do not tell you're talking to that feline again."

"Tuwaine, aren't you from London as well? Convince him with your British to British brain connection."

"I don't think that's how it works and that man doesn't even spare me a glance. And the one time he did, I almost pissed my pants. His ass is watching my every move, I feel."

"TMI." Y/N scoffed into the speaker of the phone, scratching the scalp out of her head from frustration.

Her phone dinged for the 100th time as her family group chat had rose from the dead due to current events. One of her family members had just recently had a child and everyone is trying to book a flight to Bakersfield, California to see the shriveled up version of her cousin, Maurice.

She had nothing against babies but she doesn't understand how one can find a newborn baby so cute.

But her main priority was for her Ma Ma's birthday. She hasn't seen her grandma in such a long time since she's moved to New York.

It wasn't just the group chat but her parents asking her if one of the many itineraries sent were one of hers. But according to the email that writes in the first few lines:

The employee is unable to take requested days off due to responsibilities and duties requested by Mr. Tom Holland.

There's a clear chance it's not.

Another scream escaped from her throat, shooting up from her seat as her feet stomped against her floor.

A response in return was the thump of what she figured was the top of a broomstick. She couldn't hear exactly what the elderly man was saying but from the harshness of his tone, it wasn't anything too nice.

"You realize I'm still on the phone right?"

"Why aren't you in mourning with me?"

"Because this isn't the first time. He always says no. The number of PTOs you have can last you at least a year."

Memories flooded in from when she first started working when she was on a date with somebody that she had met on one of those online dating apps and had received an urgent text from Tom. Worried that some kind of project was behind or there was a missing file, she had rushed to work.

Her high heels digging into the back of her ankle, scurrying against the title floors to get to the large office at the end of the room. Her date was not impressed at all.

Even though she didn't read a single line of the agreement she signed, she remembered him clearly highlighting a part of it that told her to be quick on her feet to help him when he calls in case it was a life or death situation.

The glass door was already partially open when she used full force to open it, only to find him put all together with a stress ball in his hand. A poster on the side falling face down. His eyes fluttering closed as if he were already slipping into REM, Tom leaned back in his chair," I couldn't get the staple out of the wall."

Either way, that date wasn't meant to be. She didn't feel anything good coming out of man who pours out a mountain of salt on his pasta.

"I'll take that year anytime. Maybe find a new job while I'm at it."

"Not when Tommy doesn't know how to wipe his own ass."

"For somebody that's afraid of him, you sure talk about his ass a lot."

"For somebody that's not afraid of him, you sure never stand up to him."

As much as she preaches finding a new job, it's hard to find one without having much experience anywhere except for retail. When she was in a low, Tom had given her the job despite not having any qualifications that were listed in the job description. Then again, all you need to know is basic human skills and patience to babysit. Even easier when the one you are babysitting is an adult.

So she couldn't quit even if she wanted to.

Herr boss's satisfaction is her satisfaction despite the constant pounding in her head that occurred each time she hears his voice.

As Tuwaine rambled on and on about this bar he had stopped by last night, her calendar filled with events from both her and her roommate glared at her. This weekend had nothing booked! I mean she could always just leave tomorrow night and arrive there on Saturday then leave for a whole day of flights on Sunday.

Mid sentence, the story cut off as the call was paused and intercepted by another. Side stepping back to where her phone was placed, she wasn't surprised by the contact name that appeared.

Not even a name was shown but a little devil emoji in it's place.

She pressed the end and accept, planning to explain Tuwaine later because the ordeal was going to be the usual. Something that Tom needed help with that a simple task that a 7 year old could do or something that wasn't too grand.

In a hushed tone, "Wingguard Mansion." Her home screen reappearing.

_

The second floor consisted of several long tables with different groups attending to their robots. One had an arm that was able to extend itself and another was being controlled to pass around snacks to other words.

Y/N stood with Tuwaine, who was apart of the coding team. Under her eyes, bags and her hair barely being brushed through or fixed. A simple ponytail to keep her hair up and out of the way.

"You're telling me when you walked in there, the girl's mouth was covered in blood and then the other guy looked like he was on his period."

Taking a long drag out of one of the coffees in her hand, she nodded before gagging at the bitter taste.

"So she bit the bloke's dick off?" Laughter filled the cube. "And where was the boss?"

"He had me talking to the police while he slept." Tuwaine shook his head in disbelief as Y/N continued," You know how hard it was to explain to them what happened?"

According to the girl, she felt so good that she accidentally clenched her teeth forgetting that there was something in her mouth. It was completely traumatizing just because the guy would be screaming in pain with every step he took. The situation would've been funny at the time to Y/N if she didn't have to stay out till 3 am and then take the subway which made her get home at 4 on the dot. Her phone ringing her ear at 7 am so he could tell her to get his coffee with two sugars for the "long night" he had.

"So while you're working, he's fucking around." Tuwaine finished off the rest of his muffin," I don't know how you do it."

Y/N shrugged before a whistle sung through the office as one of the employees came running with a panicked look on his face..In a hushed tone, he spoke," It's here."

As he rushed by, he sideswepped one of the cups of Y/N's hand, making it spill into a trashcan that was thankfully right below her. With no time to use such foul words to call out the worker, she just wiped her hand on the inside of her black cotton coat.

The elevators door opened again and the click of shoes began to come down the hallway. Y/N herself took the initiate to make her way towards the man while all of the workers tried make themselves look busy. She even saw one person erasing a sentence and retyping it over and over again.

Tom walked with his eyes, stuck to his phone. And swiftly, Y/N handed his coffee to him and walked side by side to him," Morning, boss. You have a conference call in 30 minutes."

They entered his large office that looked out to a beautiful view of New York. Each time Y/N got a moment of her own in this office, she would watch the clouds float by and the new faces that came everyday into time square. To some, the view was bore but to her, it was everything. Even if she encountered a weird sight every so often.

"Yes, about the new launch of the voice controlled drones. I know."

"Staff meeting at 10."

"Did you call that one guy? The one with receding hairline."

"Yeah, Junie? Called her and told her if he doesn't bring in the blueprints, he won't be getting the sponsor. Also your immigration lawyer called. She said that's imperative that you-"

"Cancel the call, push the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets." Tom flipped through some folders on his desk," Get a hold of PR, Osterfield's wants to do a collaboration."

"Harrison Osterfield? Nicely done."

Tom finally looked up from the things in his hands,"Ms. Y/L/N, do you think our company is not good on its own? Do you have inappropriate feelings for our client? That can cause potential trouble."

"N-No, I just like what they put out there."

"If I want your opinion, I will ask for it."

"But you..." Voice trailing off when he answered his ringing phone. Business call or not, it was clear he had the last word.

Used to it all, Y/N refrained from rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Taking one of the folders instead to keep her mind somewhere else than the plan that was forming in her head to take one of those phone numbers off the bulletin board and ask them to do voodoo.

"By the way, who is Luke and why does he want me to call him?"

Her eyes widened. Luke is the cute barista from the coffee chop near her apartment and partially one of the reasons she wasn't late. He flirted more than he needed to in order to earn tip but she would have never guessed he was bold or serious enough to write the visible heart and his phone number on the cup.

"Well, that was my cup."

"And I'm drinking your coffee why?"

"Because your coffee spilled."

He read the label, "So you drink dark roasted coffee with two sugars?"

"Yeah, I like my coffee as dark as my soul," She grinned at her joke but was met with a straight face, two blinks of the eye translating to an absurd insult, "I mean I couldn't possibly order two coffees for you in case one spilled. That would be incredibly pathetic, I know."

Blink. Blink. Blink.

"Good morning to you, Mr. Holland." She closed his door without another word.

+

Hands crunched together, the whites on his knuckles showing.

Unprepared slides. Blueprints uncompleted. Body language showing the presenter was clearly unprofessional in matters of how he spoke. "Get this shit out of my face." The phone flew across the room, the wheels of his chair scratching against the floor as he held his face in his hand in anger.

Y/N knew to give the man space before he blew up on her, rushing to her own desk and picking up the now cracked phone. The second she saw his figure stalking towards the door, she opened up a forum with an alert written in the all caps: "THE WITCH IS ON HIS BROOM.". Commotion of workers pulling their things back together were white noise when Y/N quickened her pace to follow Tom.

It was a quick turn into a room that held the room of their chief operating officer, Bob. The door slammed open, the handle hitting the side of the wall. Bob looked up from his activities with his confusion in his eyes when Tom decided to silently take a seat. "This is leather? Shell cordovan?"

The tension in the air so thick, Y/N struggling to breathe.

Bob enthusiastically began to explain his collection he had at home, Tom placing his hands on his hips when he stood up from the spot. Clearly uninterested in the topic, his mocking laugher as he stepped closer to the middle aged man.

"Bob, I'm letting you go." Bob could only stare in shock, words unable to come out of his mouth," I asked you to do one simple thing and you may have costed us a investor. So... you're fired. Now I will give you two months to find another job before you tell everyone you resigned, OK?"

None another word was spoken before Tom walked out first with Y/N following close behind, her eyes closed in on the clearly upset figure," What's his twenty?"

"He's moving. He has crazy eyes."

Hell was about to break lose. Moving off to the side as Bob kicked over a trashcan in his way.

" You selfish son of a bitch! You can't fire me. You don't see what you're doing here? Some spoiled rich kid thinks he could fire me."

Oh no, Bob. Y/N clasped her hand together, Tom tucking both of his hands into the pockets of his slack, leaning with his head slightly back. Nonchalant to all, seemingly unbothered. But Y/N knew what he was doing. He was taunting.

Bob stepped closer, "I tried to let it go. Dom passing on his legacy to some kid knowing full well he should've gave to me. So I've been here much longer than you have for you to fire me. You don't get to do that. So I know you feel threatened by me because I'm 10 times more qualified than you are."

"Are you quite done?"

Bob's eyes flicked over to Y/N and back to Tom before returning back to Y/N," And you treat all of us like slaves when I haven't seen you lift a single finger. If you had given me time to prepare instead having your little whore here last minute tell me about the project. And you know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you're gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one."

"I didn't fire you because I feel threatened. No." Tom stood over the man who was only a centimeter shorter than him but Bob was cowering where he stood despite his outburst," I fired you because you're a lazy, entitled, incompetent and you spend more time perving on the woman here than in your office. I've received several reports about several employees claiming how uncomfortable you make them feel and even now, you dare disrespect Ms. Y/L/N. If you say another word, Tuwaine is gonna have you thrown on your ass onto the sidewalk. Another word and you're going out of here with an armed escort. Y/N will film with her camera and will put it on that little video app with a little montage of all the complaints I have on you. What is it called again?"

"You know my name?" Y/N heard Tuwaine ask. She shushed him before quipping up, "Tiktok, sir.".

"Exactly. Is that what you want?" Tom turned around and motioned with a swift point of his thumb," Get him out of here."

Y/N could feel Tom's stare on her, Bob long forgotten as his presence disappeared from the hallway despite his desperate screams of letting him go. "How long ago did you tell him about the report?"

"Last week when you told me."

"I first told you about this three weeks ago."

"No, you told me last week."

Y/N was met with a hard stare, almost as if it could pierce through her skill. Tom made a beeline back to his office, the door closing behind him. While he remained calm throughout, it felt like a slap in her face. She wouldn't be surprised if she went in there and found his floor full of clutter from him swiping his desk

There were so many deadlines and emails that she has always managed to keep up and be responsible of. She was sure she would've been knowing of another deadline that Tom had put out.

+

She was done. She was dead. The monitor of her computer beeping like a hospital signaling a heart rate going flat. After checking her email, she had seen the following headline about the project he was working on. And indeed, it was dated last month and three weeks back.

"Come on, you even do his laundry. There's no way he's firing you." A girl tried to make her make feel better but returned to her own work when Y/N hid her face into the palms of her hands.

Her eyes wavered over to the still shut door. The only time it opened was twice when she saw two people walk into the room and come back out after 10 minutes within the last hour and a half.

"Yeah, maybe." Definitely way. He would've had her doing every single thing but there hasn't been a single page to her phone or anything. She was definitely fired and there's no doubt about it. The door finally opened, Tom's popping out. She didn't need to hear anything as he instead beckoned her with a wave of his hand.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped and shut the door behind her," I apologize extremely for my mistake. There has just been so many things and I know that I should've kept up with it but it was so much."

"So stupid."

"Well, that's a bit harsh."

"Damn bigots."

"I mean what I did wasn't that bad. I did a person to get fired... but that was way overdue for Bob."

"I mean my name is on the building! I'm a citizen here!"

Hold on a second...

"I'm beginning to think we're not talking about the same thing."

"They're going to deport me. Because of last night's fiasco. Apparently there's a thing where I can't get anything on my criminal record as the application is being developed. I didn't bite the guy's dick off and that's not even a crime. Hell, it was committed on American soil by an American!"

"Can't you work on the job from there? You've taken plenty of business trips."

"Yeah from inside the country. Plus they refused to do that. They're planning to have Bob take over because he has the most experience. I just fired the man."

"Wait, so does this mean I'm not fired?"

"Oh no, you are fired." Tom sat down on the edge of his desk with his hands clasped in his lap. No sympathy as Y/N's face fell.

"Sir, I apologize again for the mishap but understand that there were a lot of things I had to keep control of.

"While I've always wanted to let go of Bob, you are also at fault and lost us an investor. If you were anyone else, I would've fired you on the spot. I gave it a lot of thinking and it still comes out to the same result. Pack your things starting next week. I still need you for tomorrows' event."

"I was actually planning to go to Grandma's."

"And risk not get your last paycheck? Which guessing how much it'd be, it seems like a lot. I can always just use that money for the fund-"

'I'll be there, no worries."

"Until then, I need to find out a way to convince them to let me stay. There's no way in hell I'm giving up the company for a year to that perv."

"I mean you could get married. I've heard about that scheme before."

"Does it look like there's anybody I'm going to marry?" Tom tapped his temple with his index finger, "Cmon, Y/N, think."

"I mean you don't have to love them" Y/N shrugged, " I mean it's not like it's hard for you to find a person to marry. You had no struggle last night with the-"

"Let's not talk about last night."

_

In awe, she looked around the wide and big room. Controlled drones flew around the air conditioned arena. Spider like robots walked across the floor by people who were using their brain power to make it work.

"Mr. Holland, this is amazing. This is all Oster's Power?"

While she was fascinated by everything, the slicked back hair was beginning to curl out of it's form as Tom was having an essential life crisis. Many would think he was composed but he was quite literally freaking out at the moment. His breathing going heavier as more and more people crowded the large hall. What the hell was he doing to do? He's going to be deported in two weeks and he's trying to settle a large collaboration with a bigger company. If the company gets handed over to Bob and the merge doesn't go well, Holland will burn and burn.

Is this karma? Had he done something wrong?

Speak of the devil.

In all his pride and glory, Harrison Osterfield walked with two guards in front of them. When they reached the two, the guards separated and allowed the handsome man to step forward and a slender brunette woman appeared aside him.

"Pleasure to meet you in the skin, Holland." His soft accent beating the harsh headlines that blog articles spoke of about his strict attitude," And this must be Ms. Y/L/N."

When she saw her ex boss not even raising his hand to shake Harrison's, she took over and held out hers for the sake of the awkwardness that filled the air," Thank you for inviting us. It's a wonderful business that you own."

Harrison nodded, his attention now fully on Tom who stared into the air. The woman smiled one full of straight teeth, therefore proving to Y/N that she was as perfect as she thought it was. "I'm Gracie James, Harrison's fiancé." Her ring finger coming into view as she showed off the big diamond," Just recently this week." moved forward to grasp Y/N's hand to warm it with hers," And you are? Are you two together? Do you work with him? Oh my! Are you two?" Her eyes moving side to side, insinuating a suggestive matter. Well... what was she to Tom now? She didn't necessarily work with him anymore.... she wasn't technically wasn't his friend... While her mind wondered, she looked around the room and saw Tom was still in La La Land with Harrison struggling to keep up a conversation with him. With her right arm out of the view, Y/N nudged his hard side and disrupted whatever trance that he was trapped in," Right. You go and enjoy your evening. I'll see you tonight for the press. If you would excuse me."

Tom disappeared into the large group of people, Y/N pivoting onto feet to race after him before she was held back by a large hand. Harrison smiling down at her as she returned to her former posture of standing up straight with her hands clasped together in front of her, "Sorry, I'm in a bit of a rush to go check on him. He may just be nervous. I can take any questions if you'd like."

"Actually, it's a question for you."

"Me?"

One of his securities reached into one of their coats to pull out a rectangle paper to pass it Harrison to then pass to Y/N. A business card. "Saw how fascinated you look by everything." Clicking the side of the card, "I know you want to remain loyal but know that I have a job opening for our QA section."

Harrison went on and on about the opening. How you don't need to know much about the technology, it's mostly computer and packaging that needs to done. The pay being around the same range as what she was making now, maybe even a few more. While she wanted to stay focused on what he had to say, a constant buzz in her purse distracting her.

"Just give it a thought, alright? Tom is a good man but I could always use someone as bright as you here." Harrison raised his hand up to lay it on his shoulder," Make sure to try the cheddar biscuits, they just melt in your mouth."

"For sure. Thank you again."

Watching Harrison disappear into the crowd of people, Y/N was already hot on her toes. Advancing in direction that Tom had walked in, scrolling through the multiple messages that he sent that repeatedly told her to come but no directions to where he went. But seeing the long line of males lined up at the one person bathroom. she figured she knew where he was.

Prepping herself, she faked the best smile she could at the people in line as she cut to the front to knock on the door. "Mr-" The door swinging open, slamming against the wall before a hand grasped her wrist and pulled her in. Hair a mess, breathes coming out in a dry heaves. "Fuck, are you okay?" Tom slid and sat down on the tiled floor, hair constantly pushed back by his shaking hands. "How'd you even know that it would be me?"

"Anyone can tell the difference with that annoying voice you have."

"Okay, you're a little bit more mean than you usually are."

Tom's head peeked up from behind his knees, eyebrows knitted together in stress,” What the hell am I going to do? I'm going to be on a plane in two days back to London and convincing Harrison Osterfield to partner with my company in a week. They completely overlap and I can’t do it if I’m on the other side of the world!”

The ring from the light and the click of Y/N’s heels clicked and she didn't even stop to think about her actions. Now she was the floor with him, her hand coming up to rest against his knee. His glare bringing it back down to her lap.

"There's not a lot of good traits about you."

"Excuse me?"

"But what can I say is that you're manipulative. In a good way."

"In what way is that ever possibly good?"

"Okay here's the thing. I know when you're lying."

"How is this helping?"

"And for some reason, no one else can see through your bullshitting and somehow you always end up getting what you want. I always wondered and then I walked into your meeting that one time. That's when I heard it. You sway people with your words. What's the difference in this?"

"I'm getting deported."

"Just think of it as that one time you lied your way out of getting that parking ticket even though the sidewalk was clearly red and told you that it was red because you told the police officer you were colorblind then proceeded to bribe him even though it was your fault that lady accidentally hit your car."

"You make me sound like a bad person."

"Well... I can name off a few more-"

"Enough of that." He stood up randomly, "I'm fine now, okay? No more, I don't need to hear it." That wasn't even the worse of it, Y/N thought to herself, shaking her head to herself. With no warning, the weight she had put on him to hold her up making her lose her balance and her body stumble onto the dirty floor. Barely gathering herself before Tom opened the door and allowed the other men into the bathroom who only looked at her with a questioning look as they stepped over her frame.

More and more, she was starting to care less about being unemployed tomorrow morning.

+

Reporters gathered into another hall, Y/N stepping to the side near the tables.

Harrison was right. The cheese did in fact melt in her mouths. Gathering a couple onto her plate with some crackers, she settled down besides a reporter who was already staring at her through the rims of his glasses that were falling down the bridge of his nose.

She returned back a look of disgust. He was one of the men that just looked at her instead of helping her up like a decent human being so he could stare all she wanted. Choosing to sit a few seats down from him instead of the open one besides him, she figured he could get a taste of his own bad attitude of people not wanting to sit next to him... if he even notices.

The room began to darken as people came out from behind the curtains, all walking like robots up to the podium. Guess working with them so much slowly conditions you into one.

As the topic went into something she didn't really understand, she took another bite of one of the lighter color cheeses. And was immediately in shock.

It tasted so much like mashed potatoes, she could faint. She began to shove more and more in her mouth, not getting enough of the combo of crunch of the cracker and smoothness of cheese.

The euphoric moment paused when she heard the familiar voice but this time, he didn't sound as stoic as he usually sounded. His sentences coming out in cut up pieces.

"What do you have to say, Mr. Holland?"

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that please?"

The man with the glasses. What were his intentions?

"There's been rumors that'd you'll be returning to London, is that true? In the middle of the season, is that correct? Are you not worried of not hitting your next mark?"

Under the bright light, Y/N could see Tom beginning to sweat profusely. His hands fidgeting through one another with the table. Harrison on the end of the table playing with the skin of his lip which made the jittery feeling in his stomach explode. Her cover blowing up piece by piece.

Cmon... just as she thought that, she locked eyes with him as if he heard her. "Manipulate." She mouthed.

"And why would I be going back to London?"

"There's been word spreading that you're planning to go back to London, a report detailing that you were going to be deported. Say, whatever did you do to get deported?"

"Well I can ensure you that I'm not getting deported and I will not be returning back to London."

"But it says right in the the papers that the defendant has breached his contract and will have return back to London to finish his VISA."

"These claims do not make sense as I am engaged to my loving girlfriend."

Oh so now he uses the marriage tactic. Wonder where he got that from. Y/N shook her head and popped another cheese into her mouth like it was a piece of popcorn and she was watching a movie in the theaters.

"And who is this girlfriend of yours, if you don't mind me asking?"

Tom paused, unable to think of a fake name. It was too on the spot. His eyes wavered over the large crowd of reporters, their bodies leaning forward as they waited for the big reveal of the CEO who was thought to be the wanted and unattainable bachelor. Their pencils and fingers ready to write or type in the name of the mystery girl.

"Are you... by any chance, lying?"

"No." Tom quickly denied the claim. Y/N raked through her mind any name she could think. Trying her best to think of what that one girl's name was from the night before. Maybe she could offer a large sum of money to her in exchange for lying for only a couple of weeks. What the hell was she doing? She doesn't even work for him anymore. She didn't need to come up with these solutions for him. This was his mess, he fixes it.

"Her name is..." Y/N's breath hitched when her eyes locked with Tom's. The desperation in his eyes, almost pleading. Like he was asking for permission, his pen swaying side to side like a pendulum. The only beings in the room being them.

For all the times he's made her miss a date. For all the times he's stressed her out to the point of her hair falling out.

Does he truly deserve this easy way out?

But she couldn't help but nod, securing the deal. Tom turning back to the reporter," Her name is Y/N Y/L/N."

a/n: thank you for tooning in! also excuse the cringe company names lol. pls let me know how it is going, i've been iffy about my writing lately hehe.

TAGLIST: @bakusbabygirl @seasonswinter

[seek--rest]

What is the single best job for Peter Parker to have?

[reidslovely]

Ok now let us INNNNN on some CEO Peter x reader ! How they meet. What is their dynamic. How they end up together??? Pretty pls pls 🥺🥺

since you said please i guess...

I see them meeting in the lobby of Parker Industries. And because I'm nothing but cliche he's coming on his day off for a client meeting and she's standing in the lobby shuffling through papers obviously lost. He's staring at his Apple Watch and the collide, him sending her towards the floor. He shoots arm out and catches her, staring at her wide eyes as he basically pulls her back to her feet, arm around her stomach as he held her.

"I am so so sorry. I was looking at a message."

"I am so so sorry I was looking at this map and I was.."

They spoke at the same time. Peter's face remained flat but there was a smile in his eyes. He thought she was..gorgeous, he shook his head and cleared his throat.

"You're fine don't worry about it. Can I help you." He pointed at the map of the building in her hands. She nodded looking up at him with big eyes, and handing him the map.

"My mother has a meeting with Mr. Parker over a biotech research for her collarbone damage due to cancer. It's a whole thing, and I'm super late."

"You're in luck because the CEO is also super late to this meeting." Peter chuckled. "Mr. Parker..nice to meet you."

"Oh my god." She says reaching her hand out shaking it. "I'm (y/n) (l/n) nice to meet you...also." she stuttered through her greeting. Peter nodded and handed her map back to her.

"I'll walk with you. Follow me."

I do think that the two have a slight age gap. Peter being around 30-33 and reader being about 25-27. Which makes him kind of skeptical for a bit because Peter's never dated someone younger than him outside of Gwen being a year younger than him and even if it's not by a lot and both are in similar places in life he worries that she'd find him to be old and boring. But she doesn't, she doesn't really pay any mind to the age gap besides teasingly calling him 'old man' here and there in their relationship.

At the start they definitely have a grumpy/sunshine dynamic even if Peter isn't that grumpy he's been out of the dating pool for a few years and he's just kind if skittish which makes him seem grumpy. He's the reason for these big nice parties but he only talks to the people he knows and clients he's built relationships with. She's the one running around greeting people asking if they're having a fun time and he just admires her so much for it. She inspires him and brings him out of his little dark room he's built for himself which helps everyone get to know him a little bit better and see that he's not only a kind person, but also really funny. He's also just so so so soft for her. Peter can be intimidating if needed and he knows how to play that well and when to play it. But whenever she's around he's so soft, it's like all the bad things in his life become muffled. She feels the same about him, she thinks he's the smartest man in the world. She knows he is, and doesn't hesitate to remind him when he is forgetting that himself. As their relationship progresses for Peter he feels like he got a second chance at love, and she feels like she's really fallen in love for the first time.

They start dating pretty quickly actually for Peter being so skittish, Harry gave him a jump in headfirst speech that urged him into asking her to be his girlfriend. And when he did it he felt like that nerdy high school boy again, but when she said yes he knew he made the right decision.

They go on the nicest vacations, he definitely wants to see the world with her. But he also loves just being in their Forest Hills home having domestic moments. He likes the way she'll come into his office while he's working and sit on his lap playing with his hair. His goal is just to spoil his girl, any thing she wants he'd give it to her no matter the cost. If she asked him tomorrow to give up everything and just disappear with her he'd do it, and she'd do it for him.

He also totally gives her a job at Parker Industries let's be real. All she wanted to do was be his assistant/receptionist, and when the spot opened he immediately offered it to her because no one better could keep up with him. And honestly..it's true.

I don't know there is a lot about them, she's gonna need a cute nickname though. I'll get back to y'all on that.

have a ceo!peter coded photo:

[therealmofamorus]

(ask, office: ceo, original male stud) what would fem!tony pick up line be if she shows interest in her new assistant, peter parker?

Toni: You are a fine piece of a specimen that I would be glad to study~

[tha-star]

Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types, Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Past Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson - Relationship, past Peter Parker/Johnny Storm - Relationship, Past Felicia Hardy/Peter Parker - Relationship, minor Shiklah/Wade Wilson - Relationship, past Carmelita Camacho/Wade Wilson - Relationship Characters: Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, Matt Murdock, Shiklah (Marvel), Dmitri Smerdyakov Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Crossdressing, Temporary Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Secret Identity, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Peter Parker, Pansexual Wade Wilson, Implied Sexual Content, CEO Peter Parker Series: Part 2 of Peter and Wade - When I kiss you - series Summary:

Wade and Peter don't just look alike in costumes and their sense of humor with constant jokes. Both were unaccustomed to depending on someone, to partnering, and even worse, to noticing a genuine interest that someone has in them, or rather that they have each other. That's why it's better to let your actions speak more than words, like a simple kiss.

[age-of-moonknight]

If anyone here is interested in both Spider-Man and Moon Knight comics (like op 😅), particularly the timelessly endearing central character of the former and the more psychological aspects of the latter, I would suggest checking out Infinity Wars: Arachknight (Vol. 1/2018).

There are only two stand alone issues plus an “annual” and the whole concept of infinity warps was increasingly hilariously whacky, but the creators do a surprisingly good job of blending Spider-Man’s character and history with elements from Moon Knight comics.

[tousledot]

Thanks for tagging me, @annablume 💖🙌

10 fandoms, 10 characters ships, 10 tags

(mine fave obsessions usually come in pairs!!)

1. Star Trek: Spock/Kirk

2. Hobbit: Bilbo/Thorin

3. Twin Peaks: Cooper/Albert/Harry

4. Tiger & Bunny: Kotetsu/Barnaby

5. Doctor Who: Twelve/Clara

6. Strange Magic: Bog/Marianne

7. Person of Interest: Finch/Reese

8. HP: Snape/Harry (post war)

9. Mcu: Tony/Steve

10. Spideypool: Wade Wilson/Peter Parker

no-pressure tagging @abi-tired @alex-wf @fiveocock @tinninniburi @themaybug @stevetonyedits @chamotea @gerrito and anyone who wanna list they faves or ships👌💖😌🌻

[gunsandspaceships]

Tony Stark’s achievements

Childhood:

“Brilliant and unique mind”

At age 4 built his first circuit board

At age 6 built his first engine

Cracked the Pentagon’s firewall in high school on a dare

Went to college at 14

Built cool smart robots (Dum-E and U) when he was a teen

At 17 graduated summa cum laude from MIT

Polyglot

Before Afghanistan:

“Da Vinci of our time”

Became an owner and CEO of Stark Industries at 21

Successfully ran the company for decades

Advanced the world of technology, not only in weaponry and robotics but also:

created advanced AI J.A.R.V.I.S.

created holographic interface technology

created repulsor technology

Participated in charity

In and after Afghanistan:

“I’m sorry, I’m not Tony Stark”

Survived an open-heart surgery in a cave, without general anesthesia

Lived with, in fact, a debilitating wound, shrapnel, and a huge and dangerous technological device in his body for years and was willing and capable of doing not only his usual work but also being a superhero and doing all these next things...

Did not give up under torture and fought with his captors

Invented and built a miniaturized Arc Reactor, in a cave, with a box of scraps

Invented and built Iron Man armor, in the same cave, with the same box of scraps

Escaped from captivity by himself (with help from Yinsen, but without any armed assistance)

Became an expert in piloting and driving

Saved people in Gulmira

Saved a USAF pilot

Probably the best hacker in the world, was able to easily hack networks of the Pentagon, US government, AIM, and SHIELD

Fought with Iron Monger after nearly died. Defeated him and saved many lives. Was ready to die for that

Built many more different Iron Man armors

Fought terrorists between IM and IM2 (IM2 tie-in comics)

Saved a submarine crew (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home)

Saved a woman from a fire (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home)

“Stabilized East-West relations” (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home), so the world was “enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace in years”

Organized Stark Expo

Was able to keep Iron Man armor in his safe hands despite the government’s and HYDRA’s attempts to take it for themselves

Defeated Ivan Vanko in Monaco

(Re)Discovered a new element

 Synthesized it, by building a particle accelerator, at home

Revolutionized energy industry and science. Gave clean energy to the world

Defeated Vanko in New York with Rhodey, Natasha, and Pepper and saved many lives again

Saved Peter Parker (IM2)

Made it so that the Abomination would not leave prison and join the Avengers

Built Stark/Avengers Tower powered by Arc Reactor technology

Saved Steve Rogers and many civilians in Germany from Loki

Was able to fight with Thor on equal terms

Biggest brain on Earth, arguably - in the Universe:

best scientist on the team, in SHIELD, on Earth, in the Universe

expert in nuclear, particle, and quantum physics

was able to learn very quickly – became an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics in one night

Successfully tracked Tesseract by its gamma radiation with Bruce

Saved Helicarrier with the Avengers and SHIELD agents on board, almost died

Saved Rogers from a merc right after that

Fought with Chitauri, killed many of them, saved a lot of people

Was able to blow up a Leviathan by himself

Saved New York City by redirecting a nuke to the wormhole

Saved the world by destroying Thanos’ Chitauri army, almost died again

Founded The United States Department of Damage Control to clean up after battles

Rebuilt Stark Tower into Avengers Tower and gave each team member their own quarters

One of the best biologists and biomedical engineers on Earth, even if it’s not his main area of expertise:

helped Maya with Extremis back in 1999, because knew more in her own field, and even didn’t remember that

was head hunted by Aldrich Killian to work on Extremis with/instead of Maya, who was the leading expert in tissue regeneration

improved and stabilized Extremis, so it became safe regenerative technology, and with it…

cured Pepper

healed extensive injuries in his chest

invented and implanted devices for remote control of his suits (into his forearm in IM3, and most probably into his brain for Mark L armor in Infinity War)

invented build-in diagnostic system in his suits

Invented many devices for protection purposes (ex. bomb disposal)

A capable detective. Figured out the cause of explosions in IM3 on his own

Saved Pepper instead of himself by putting Mark 42 on her during the attack on his Malibu mansion

Survived the attack with a barely working prototype suit. Shot down a helicopter with a piano

Was able to fight with enhanced fire-breathing regenerating terrorists without armor and weapons in Rose Hill. In handcuffs

Knowledgeable and skilled in medicine:

saved a kid with his arc reactor in a deleted scene from IM3, selflessly pulling it out of his chest and performing defibrillation under electric shocks

knew how to recognize hyperglycemia when Harley was eating 3rd bawl of candies

closed his wound in Infinity War with nanoparticles

performed first-aid on Bruce after his snap

Built a lot of stuff from random things he bought in a store for the assault on the Mandarin's mansion. In a motel

Successfully stormed the Mandarin's mansion full of armed and huge security guys with dogs. Alone. Without his armor

Successfully escaped captivity in the Mandarin's mansion with just a few pieces of armor on

Saved all the people who fell from the Air Force One

Stormed Roxxon Norco ship with Rhodey, without a suit. With one handgun

Saved the US president

Defeated Killian and his Extremis-enhanced terrorists, saved many lives

Built quinjets

Created Iron Legion

Became the benefactor of the Avengers, provided them with everything, was a combatant, and also the team’s pilot, hacker, engineer, medic, and scientist

As an Avenger saved many lives on missions, including destroying the rest of HYDRA in AoU

With Bruce’s help created Veronica and Hulkbuster suit

Defeated a rogue Iron Legionnaire with a fork

In contrast to other team members was able to function after Wanda played with his mind

Defeated mad Hulk. Saved a lot of lives in Johannesburg

Easily hacked nuclear codes in Nexus and found J.A.R.V.I.S. “in the world’s biggest haystack”

Created advanced AI F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Many advanced AIs

Created Vision

With the Avengers defeated Ultron and his army

Evacuated people who were left in Sokovia

Saved a falling evacuation shuttle with people on it

Together with Thor saved Earth by destroying the falling Sokovia

Rebuilt Stark Compound into Avengers Compound for the team in Upstate New York

Invented several medical devices, including leg braces, blood toxicity detector

Sponsored the development of technology for psychotherapy (B.A.R.F.). Prevented it from being used for harm

Funded all the students’ projects at MIT

Did everything possible to legally, politically, and physically protect the team before, during, and after the Civil War

Was able to disarm Winter Soldier without a suit, with only one armored glove

Figured out Spider-Man’s identity

Created Spider-Man’s suits

Mentored, sponsored, and looked after Peter Parker

Saved Peter Parker (SMH). Twice

Saved the ferry from sinking

Invented nanoparticles

 “Earth’s best defender”

Went to space to save Peter, Strange and bring back Time Stone

Saved Peter Parker (IW)

Saved Strange on the Donut spaceship. Killed Ebony Maw

Cloak of Levitation chose him as his second favorite (deleted scene with Tony wearing Levi and Strange in Mark L)

Was respected by Thanos himself

Withstood when Thanos hit him with a moon

Fought Thanos, made him bleed, kept fighting even without armor

Survived a severe injury thanks to his own invention

Was able to function, tried to fix Benatar, and return home while injured and ill with an infected wound

Built a lab for Bruce and helped him to become one with Hulk (combine the best of both worlds)

Became an amazing dad

Became an expert in time travel physics

Discovered/invented (controlled) Time travel

Built a time machine

Went on Time Heist and stole Tesseract from a guarded military base

Created his own Infinity Gauntlet

Thus brought half of the universe back to existence (Bruce snapped and partially sacrificed his health, but nothing would be possible without Tony)

Saved Bruce’s arm by providing emergency medical care

Fought with Thanos again and…

Saved the whole Universe