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bluesidez · 9 months ago

Note

Can I request a Miguel O'Hara x Curvy reader where they both get intoxicated from sex pollen ??

[Sticky-Icky]

lab taster: @waterinthefire 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Curvy!Reader

summary: He's a lot less irritating when he puts his mouth to better use.

content warning: a PWP but you guys know me (there's a little plot), this is so 18+ that it's crazy so MDNI, sex pollen (or more like Miguel is playing around and doesn't know wtf he's doing), unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾) manhandling, temperature play if you squint, standing 69, facefucking, creampies, wrong use of webs, biting, breeding, spitting, squirting, cunnilingus, fellatio, fluff if you squint...I think that's it. my god.

word count: 4.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Listening to Sticky by Ravyn Lenae inspired part of this. Also watching several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares, Hell’s Kitchen, and Law & Order: SVU in the bg kept me sane. And one more rewatch of ATSV.

My duty as a fanfic writer is fulfilled as I give you this mandatory trope. 🫡

When you first started working at Spider HQ, you were amazed by the fact that one man was able to create all of this.

It was astounding, beyond what the gray tones of Nueva York could ever present to you.

Now, you think back to your glittering eyes during the first year working here and laugh.

Working for Miguel O’Hara was like squeezing a watermelon through a straw. He was impossible.

Nothing you did was ever satisfactory for him. Something could always be fixed. Sometimes, you wonder why he still kept you employed here.

Currently, he was turning his nose up at a salve you were working on for spiders whose healing time wasn’t nearly as quick as others.

“Run a new test. This batch is no good.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The formula could be better, it’s too thick, and why does it smell like that?”

The scent was similar to one you wore often and a lot of the spider-people that swung by the pharmacy seemed to like it.

“Uh, jade tea.”

The pinch in Miguel’s eyebrows deepened as he sniffed the air.

“Switch it to something else.”

You huffed, already tired of this conversation, “Well, what smell do you suggest?”

“Anything but this.”

“How about lavender, then? Perhaps peppermint.”

“And now, you’re being childish,” Miguel put the tin down before placing his hands on his hips. “You know there’s spider-people who can’t smell too much of that.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

He plopped a giant file on your desk, “Deal with that later. I need you to work on something else. For some reason, villains across dimensions are obtaining access to a substance similar to rapture. Every time there’s a mission, the spider-person of that dimension has been left affected. I need something to subside the effects until we can get them back here.”

“Ok, well do you have the substance with you?”

“No. But I’ll get you something soon. For now, I have a year’s worth of research on rapture. It should be of some use.”

You took the rubber band off of the manilla folder, something so old school for this era of tech.

You saw a line of formulas that started to make your head spin.

“Are there a lot of people affected right now?”

“Only a few. They’ve used the leftover solution I made a long time ago. It’s only going to work for so long,”

“Good. I need to sleep on this.”

Miguel’s head knocked back an inch, “Are you refusing work? The state of the heroes of different universes relies on this research. It’s not some science project-“

“I understand completely, Miguel, but I’m off the clock.”

He stopped and checked his watch, the red six o’clock burning back on him.

“I only work the hours you pay me, Spidey,” you reach to pat his arm and regret it when his stern face doesn’t move.

“Not interested in paid overtime?”

You bit your cheek to stop the laugh from coming out.

“That’s nice and all, but I’ve got plans.”

“Like what?”

“Like resting, sleeping, not touching lab work with a you-sized pole. All of these are things you aren’t familiar with. Plus, I have a date.”

A pause went through the room as you started to gather your things.

“Since when do you date?”

You push your chair under your desk harder than you mean to, “Since when do you care?”

“I,” he follows to the elevator, “care about my employees.”

“Sure, Miguel.”

If it weren’t for your tired state, you would think he looks a little sad at your statement.

“See you tomorrow, then?”

The doors start to close as you nod your head, Miguel’s gaze stuck just above your head.

Weird. Just like his frequent stops to your lab.

The feeling doesn’t leave your gut even as you’re smiling in your date’s face.

One minute, you’re laughing at a story about some amateur skateboarders Downtown, and the next, an electric billboard is being covered in tiny nano-spiders across the street.

“So the guy just takes one step on the board and then he’s flying. A straight line across the park.”

“That’s,” the spiders start to crawl into different lines. Then a logo forms, displaying the spider on Miguel’s suit next to an exclamation point. “So hilarious.”

Your date chuckles then follows your gaze, the silence too long, “Is there something wrong?”

The nano-spiders flipped around, the regular billboard showing like normal. You squint.

“No, I thought I saw something. Must have been my imagination.”

“You did say you were a little tired from work. Should we raincheck? We can always catch a movie another time.”

You wanted to say no, you’d been looking forward to tonight.

The billboard flickered to a little picture of Lyla with “SOS” above her head.

“Yeah, I should probably get going. Sorry about this.”

The way he doesn’t sweat you practically ditching him makes your heart pang. You’re already dreading another night exhausted and alone. Your date seemed promising.

You wave at him from your taxi, the route leading back to Spider HQ feeling like torture. You unclasp your purse and check your gizmo.

40 missed messages.

It’s not until you’re walking into the regular lobby that you turn it on.

“What is so important that you waste Margo’s time to interrupt my time?”

Lyla pops in your peripheral, hands up and wary, “I’m only doing what boss asks! Don’t get mad at me.”

“Lyla, why am I back here right now?”

“Well, Miguel has gotten himself in some particular trouble.”

You punch the elevator button, “Get to the point, please.”

“He went into your lab to try and start the solution he talked about earlier. After his first accident, he’s never had any luck with lab work, so uh. He’s kind of made a mess.”

The elevator moves and you look at Lyla, “What kind of mess?”

The doors open and you can smell it before you see it.

It’s poignant, like perfume soaked roses and patchouli. The scent hits you hard enough to make you grip the metal opening as you come out.

“What exactly did he do?” you breathe out.

Your limbs start to shake, nerves drumming from the inside out. A weight feels like it landed on your core, your stomach twitching as you continued to take in whatever had transpired.

“Something about DNA splicing and plants. I can trace his movements back if you’d like, but I’m also currently trying to figure out how to reverse it.”

“Great.”

You swing open the door to a disheveled Miguel. He’s sweating profusely as he tries to clean up your lab desk.

Before you can even begin to yell he’s fussing, “Lyla, I told you not to call her!”

“But you obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”

He bites his lip as he tries not to look at you, fingers trembling as he starts to store materials back into their drawers.

“Thought you had a date.”

“And I thought I told you stay away from my station,” you feel like a baby deer walking over to him.

When you get closer he sucks in his breath like you cut him, stopping in his tracks.

“I don’t think you should be near me,” he grunts. His eyes are dark, lips swollen with the way he’s biting them.

“What are you talking about? I’m trying to help you.”

You round the corner of the desk, the image of you two almost comical. Miguel moves to the edge of the desk, chest moving faster, while you chase after him trying to get a hand on his forehead.

He felt extremely cold compared to the numbness of your palm, despite how flushed he looked. His eyes close as your hand slides from his head to his neck, muscles there tensing.

“Please. Don’t,” he whispers.

“Who else is coming here to save you?” you ask, frustrated. “What did you do anyway?”

He doesn’t answer as he peers at you. Your heart is beating faster and you can’t tell if it’s because of the air or because of the way he looks like he’s about to climb you.

Every move you made felt like sharp pricks in your skin, the tight material of your dress digging into your hips. It felt like the ends of burning flames and you wanted it off. Your breaths were picking up and you couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on other than Miguel being your cooling solution.

“Miguel,” you sounded like you ran a marathon when all you did was step into his space.

“It’s the shocking formula that I screwed up. That’s why everything feels-“

“Like I need you,” you interrupt. “Like I want you on top of me.”

The insides of your thighs were fighting against themselves to stay together, the urge to let your legs fall around him strong.

“That’s just the chemicals talking. W-we can get somewhere safe and separated.”

You grab the back of his neck and pull yourself even closer, his hands gripping the table like a lifeline as he groans.

“So you don’t want me?” you press against him, caging a knee around him right next to his hand. “You don’t think about me?”

You can almost feel his heartbeat matching yours as you pull yourself up.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t wonder how I feel when you come into my lab snooping around? How I feel when you come in here barking orders?”

Your face is in his neck and you feel yourself clench around nothing as you take a deep breath. He smells like coffee and fabric softener, but there’s an underlying wave of musk. Of something so unbelievably him and you want to keep that scent close forever.

“I imagine you’re annoyed. But a job is a job.”

“But you still come in here asking for things you know someone else can do,” your panties are soaked, and from the way his nose flares, you know he knows. “Why?”

His teeth grit as you start to grind on him, the feeling giving you an inch of relief that only makes you want more.

“I, I don’t- It’s because I,” the counter began to crack under his hands. His muscles were pulled taut. “Dios, ayúdame.”

Maybe you were wrong, and your hazy mind only brought thoughts from the subconscious one.

“Fine. I get that you don’t like me but could you at least give me some type of relief?” you were whining in his ears at this point, a complete 180 of how you left him earlier today. With every grind of your hips, you left noises in his skin, desperate.

The desk made a terrible sound as Miguel finally lets go and grabs around your waist. Your breath is slammed out of you as your back hits the wall, Miguel’s hand holding your head to stop it from crashing into the wall too.

Your throat makes a gargled sound as Miguel licks down your jaw, his talons ripping into your dress. His tongue swipes into your mouth, breaths rapid as he finally gets a taste.

“I do like you. More than I should,” his words were passed right into you. “You and your smart mouth.”

“Then stop talking and do something about it.”

A yank in your hair stops your complaints, Miguel kissing down your side. Every press of his lips left a chilly flutter. Your hips are moving frantically, patience wearing thin. Right as you’re about to say something again, he flips you, the layers of your dress falling as he rips into your panties.

The blood rushes to your head as he takes a bite into your thigh, sucking as your legs fall to his shoulders.

You moan his name, hands gripping at his thighs. His kisses led to your lips, swollen and dripping. From your clit to your entrance, he groaned as he covered you, drinking like you were water in the middle of the night.

You felt like you were going to slip, but Miguel’s arms were looped around your legs, not letting go. His suit was in your way, your mouth salivating as his crotch stared back at you. Your fingers could only dig as far as his suit allows and you have half a mind to call Lyla to disengage it.

“Please,” you sigh as you rub his bulge with your cheek. “I need it so bad.”

“Cállate,” he hums, face delving deeper into you. The sound of him licking up every drop echos off the cool walls and the light of his suit dims away letting you see what you’ve been waiting for.

His length hits your chin, precum spilling down and you’ve never been more excited for a man to go commando. You open your mouth and let your breath hit him as you take a swipe down to his balls.

Miguel’s grunts and shifts his hips back. His tip swerves around your face as he tries to find your mouth without unlatching his jaw from your sex. You help out with the last bit of sanity you have, and once you wrap your lips around him, his hips snap hard onto you.

All you can feel is Miguel entering you from top to bottom, his hands keeping you stationed in your position. There’s no room to do anything as he’s devouring you and taking your breath away at the same time. Two of his fingers sink into you, and you jerk from the difference between his skin and his tongue.

Miguel nibbles at the hood of your clit, urging you to be still. Whenever his fingers leave you, his pelvis fills your senses. Your throat gags around him, spit building to keep up with his thrusts.

“So good,” he hums. His pace picks up and the tears in your eyes fall to the floor. “Made for me. Only me.”

Your fingers wrap around his thighs and squeeze tight, your vision fading as you try to take in pockets of air. The shake in your legs and the broken moans that escaped your lips only ignited him.

“Bebé,” his hips stutter. He’s sloppy as he drools over the entrance, voice loud. “Bebé, you’re so, ngh.”

He cums down your throat, balls twitching against your face. You close your eyes and try to swallow everything, jaw aching. Miguel groans your name as he slides his dick out to the tip, a few spurts still landing on your lips. You cough, position making everything go north.

The taste of him was delicious, but you needed more of him elsewhere. Your mouth was as drenched as your cunt and yet you still felt empty.

When Miguel flips you back upright, you’re ready to pounce on him again. The state of you both is alarming. Your breasts have completely fallen out of your dress, that black thing barely holding on by its zipper. Miguel’s suit is phasing in and out in the most obscene places. There’s slick up to his eyebrows and his cum is all over your cheeks.

He grabs your jaw and runs his tongue over your face, cleaning up his mess. You let him live in his own bubble before that burning in your core came back.

Your nails dig into his shoulders and your whispers of “more” come to light. You’re clawing at him like a cat begging him to do something, anything, to make this feeling go away.

“Miguel,” you gasp as he sinks his teeth into your skin. “Miguel, it hurts. Fix it, Miggy, please.”

You guide his hands down your body and place them on your ass. His touch sates you for only a moment, but your body reacts as if he needs to be deep in your bones. He spreads your ass and groans as the sound of how eager you are for him follows.

“You’re not ready,” are the words that make you even more frustrated. Your hands pushing and pulling at him, ready to try and put him where you want him to go.

He clicks his teeth and flexes his wrists. His webs tie your wrists together, neon red strings leaving a buzz on your skin. He yanks your dress off and you stumble with the motions.

The clinical room doesn’t aid the building heat you feel, but Miguel turning you around and pressing you into the wall as he cuts the rest of your panties off does.

He squats and grabs two hands full of you.

He spits onto your hole, mesmerized as he watches it slide to your entrance. “Qué hermosa,” he whispers.

You bend, whimpering as your folds cover his nose, clenching and grinding.

“God,” you sigh. Something this small was going to bring you to the edge so quickly. “D-don’t stop.”

“Greedy,” Miguel says as if he’s not moving the fat of your ass to nudge his face into you. The arch in your back deepens as he continues and your whines get higher.

He smacks your right cheek, sound echoing off the metal tables, and you shout his name as you coat his tongue.

Tranquility clears your mind for a second, one where the flowery scent in the air is less strong.

The peace leaves just as fast as it came when Miguel gets rid of his suit and stands behind you in all of his glory.

His eyes followed from your dewey face to the curve of your hips to bitten thighs to feet with one heel still on.

“He didn’t deserve to see this,” he says.

“W-what?”

Miguel ignores you and pulls your wrists up straight, a confused noise leaving you. He wraps another web around your ankles and huffs. He sets your arms under your chest, your hands in front of you like a prayer.

When he picks you up by your waist, his dick lines up with your ass.

He groans as he grinds, watching himself disappear and reappear.

You try to move with him, “No, not there. Inside.”

“You’re always so distracting,” he growls. He slides his length between your thick thighs and you nearly scream as his hips hit your ass, his tip just barely passing over your clit. “Can never think straight when I see you.”

He rubbed over the bite he left on your shoulder, “So pretty. My pretty baby.”

His low voice right in your ears only made you wetter. He was holding you like you were his toy, fucking the inside of your thighs with ease.

Miguel could cry watching your ass bounce on his stomach. Your legs were soft and warm and he just couldn’t stop.

“Want you so bad. Need to fuck you again and again and again,” he said as your thighs quivered around him.

“Please, Miguel. Make me yours,” your voice crowded the sound of his grunts as he held you up and pounded away.

Those were the magic words to get him to lean back with a firm grip on you and release all over the wall. It was everywhere, from your legs to the wall to the ceiling.

He set you to the floor with shaky arms, and you started to sob.

All of this and you still wanted more. If this was making you feel this insane, you can only imagine the small relief Miguel was feeling after being exposed for longer.

“C’mere,” he pulls you to the bare floor and cuts the webs. You immediately try to climb him, legs wrapping around his waist.

He was painfully hard for someone who came twice now.

Your cries of “inside” slur together, tears running down your face. Miguel was no better, fangs dripping with venom and the hairs on skin raised.

The two of you tussle as Miguel tries to keep your hips to stay stationary. You kept jerking in order to get some sort of friction but he was baring his teeth to get you to quit.

You dip your nails into his shoulders and arms while he drags a talon down your sternum to snap your bra off.

A clatter of your stiletto sounds off across the room as he pinches your thigh, “Easy, beautiful. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Fucking hurry,” you whine.

He shushes as he plunges inside of you, the noise you both make as loud as a choir.

Your eyes roll back as Miguel presses, bending your body in half.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Miguel leans to whisper onto your lips.

Tight is the first thing that comes to mind and heat is the next.

He moves his hips up and slams back down, your ass shifting from the pressure.

“Miguel!”

“That’s it. Talk to me.” All of that chatter earlier and now you can barely get out a word.

“H-harder,” your hands don’t know where to go. They’re grabbing Miguel, they’re falling next to your head, they’re grabbing at your breasts as Miguel jerks your body.

Miguel goes to open your jaw, lips pulling on your tongue to suck. It’s tender and sensual compared to the way his balls are slapping against you. There’s a ring of white on his shaft getting thicker and thicker as he continues.

“Pretty thing,” he says as he lets your tongue go, a string of saliva falling to your neck. “Watched you on the cameras. Always.”

That stirs something in you, a spark in your chest as you see stars.

“Did you want to do this to me when you watched me?” you manage out.

“Yes.”

“I can put on a show for you next time.”

“Yes.”

“You can come in here. ‘N fuck me over the counter.”

“Sí, sí, baby,” his hands push your knees next to your head and he ruts against you. His thighs were straining as he took and took.

A yell pulls itself from your core, that burning feeling getting a crash of cold water. The dam bursts and you’re running all over Miguel, essence leaving every time he inches out and back in.

“Gonna fill you up,” he rasps, eyes glazed over.

You nod your head, clenching and pulsing around him.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he shudders against you. You suck him in, gaining a deep moan from him, “Así, bebé. Take it.”

It’s like you can finally think as his cum overflows, your heart rate finally slowing.

He stares at you as you both come back to reality. Your body is limp, the weight of Miguel making itself known.

“Holy shit,” you wiggle and he catches the hint. He lifts a bit and pulls out. The swirl of you two falls out of you in waves. “What. The fuck.”

“God,” Miguel mumbles. “No shocking way we just did that.”

“You can’t say that when the evidence is leaking out of me.”

Miguel groans as he watches you, your face pouty and your hole glistening. It was intoxicating.

His dick twitches, coming to life again the longer he watches.

“‘M sorry in advance,” he says as he pulls you into his lap.

“Just take care of it, O’Hara.”

The two of you sat in the middle of the floor, breathing hard. Pieces of consciousness were starting to come back.

“You looked stunning tonight,” Miguel said. He looked at your shredded dress on the floor. “I’m glad he won’t see you in that dress anymore.”

The snort that leaves your nose turns into a full-blown laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You just took my soul ten times over and you’re worried about a guy I just met less than a week ago. I fear I’m ruined for anyone else.”

“Oh,” he smiles. “Good.”

“You still should take me on a date. You’ve got a lot to explain.”

Flashes of him confessing to his habit of watching you from afar come back, “O-of course.”

“And you owe me a new dress.”

“On it.”

Lyla pops up next to you both, a blindfold over her shades, “Is it safe to talk to you guys now?”

Miguel checks his gizmo, “I think we’re good for about forty minutes. The effects are starting to wear off.”

“Excellent!” She throws the fabric to the side, “Oh my god, this room is a mess.”

You look at the array of substances over the room and grimace. The entire hall will have to be on lockdown.

“Well, I managed to vent out the solution. You two should be ok soon.”

You lean on Miguel’s chest and close your eyes, happy to hear good news.

“Kind of sad that this is what it took for you to confess, Miguel,” she comments.

“Lyla!”

You laugh again, “Some confession.”

“That’s enough,” Miguel scowls.

Your giggles die down as you pull yourself onto Miguel’s thigh, bubbles in your chest molding into moans as you start to grind over his thigh.

“I’m starting to think you guys are just bluffing,” Lyla gags before she disappears. “Let me know when you’re done.”

“I think,” you nuzzle into his neck, “this’ll be the last time. I’m tired.”

“If not, we can take it to my house.”

The world blurs again as you and Miguel connect under the white lights.

Take a shot every time I say breath or breathe 😭. Anywho, as always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT!

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sunsburns · 2 months ago

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hiii just recently discovered you on tumblr and ever since ca:bnw came out ive been a die hard fan of joaquin. i read forget it and im absolutely blown away by youre writing!! would you consider doing a college au joaquin sports player x reader? (i havent read all your works yet so im not sure if youve done it yet 😅)

but thank youuu for dropping the most scrumptious written joaquin fics. followed and sending lots of love

jen this is soo wowow i love this thought cause there's probably an alternate universe where joaquín didn't join the military and went pro.

like he's walking around with the miami football merch all the time so it's not too far for a reach. but let's imagine were there. yk? he'd probably play as a wide receiver, tight end, or running back, just because of his physique and because he seems to be a fast guy, quick on his feet and good with working under pressure and making fast decisions. so, he plays a forward position, probably got a scholarship, his entire four years paid for by the district, because this kid's got talent and he's quite a charmer too.

funnily enough, you met him through a computer science/web engineering class rather than in the field. and you're paired together for a project, and let's be honest, when you first met the guy, you were a little apprehensive to work with him. he's one of the louder students in class, sometimes late because his practice ran later than usual, but you had to admit, he was smart and really good with tech.

it was a pleasant surprise. you were supposed to meet at the library at 4:00. he showed up at 4:02 with a smoothie in one hand and his backpack half-zipped, curls damp from practice, still in his compression shirt like he’d run straight from the locker room to be there. “sorry i’m late,” he said, all sunshine and dimples. “figured you might like mango.” and yeah, okay, maybe you were already halfway to melting by then.

he wears his jersey on campus like it’s stitched to his skin. you see him in it every day—number 14, TORRES printed bold across his broad back—but it hits differently when he drapes it over your shoulders after a game. still warm from him. still smells like sweat and gatorade and something that makes your stomach flutter.

he tells you it’s yours now. you don’t argue.

#i really like this idea it's so cute and it gives me something to hope on while i'm in school #faye’s writing ⭑.ᐟ #joaquín torres #joaquín torres x reader #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres fluff #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres fanfiction #the falcon #the falcon x reader #joaquín torres smut #joaquin torres smut #joaquín’s wings

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thealtoduck · 1 year ago

Text

Greedy

Peter Parker x Male Black Cat!Reader

Warnings: Smut, semi-angsty, top!Reader, bottom!Peter, friends with benefits, unprotected sex, rough sex, anal sex, fingering, doggy style, spanking, you cry after sex, calling Peter a whore, slut, etc…

Male Black Cat!Reader: Masterlist

Summary: After a failed robbery you’re pissed of so Peter helps you release some frustration…

——

You shot your grappling hook and swung yourself to another building closely followed by Spider-Man. He’d been able to keep up with you a lot better than usual, having learned to avoid your regular tricks and traps.

”You’ve gotten better at this!” you called out to the superhero chasing you. You jumped the gap to another building. Suddenly a web caught your arm pulling it back making you lose balance and fall hitting the rooftop floor.

You felt a pain in your leg as you quickly tried standing back up. Spider-Man swung right over your head and landed in front of you. ”Or maybe you’ve just gotten slow” he teased, the two of you then engaged in combat.

You slashing at him with your claws and him doing his best to block and dodge your attacks. Once he went on the offensive you ducked his quick strong jabs. Spider-Man noticed the leg you fell on was shaky as you avoided his punches.

He used this to his advantage and did a sweep with his leg knocking you to the ground, it was usually by now you found some gadget or distraction to give yourself a chance to escape. Spider-Man quickly ran up to you and ripped your backpack from your back and quickly webbed one of your arms down keeping you in place.

”You can’t take that” you said losing the regular playfullness in your voice. ”I just did” Spider-Man said victoriously. He went for the zipper on the bag while muttering ”What did you even steal?”. You watched with a glare as Spider-Man brought out a set of files from your bag.

”Put that back” you demanded but he ignored you. He opened one of the files and stated ”It’s the layout of a prison” he then turned his gaze to you and asked ”Are you planning to break someone out?”. He continued looking through some other files as you desperately looked for a way to free yourself.

You heard sirens in the distance approaching and even though you couldn’t see his mouth you knew Spider-Man was smirking. ”Well looks like i finally caught you Cat, tell me how does it feel?”.

Then you found something. ”Oh Spider… when will you learn, you can’t cage the Black Cat” you said and threw one of your newer gadgets towards him, which he easily dodged out of the way for it as it hit the water tower behind him. ”You missed” Spider-Man said proudly, but as he noticed your satisfied facial expression he realised… you hadn’t missed.

Next thing he knew an explosion came and he was completely drenched in water and the water tower started collapsing on to him. The files you had collected were washed away spreading wet sheets of paper out all over the rooftop.

Spider-Man managed to catch the falling water tower as it landed on top of him. He then threw it to the side and turned to where you had been webbed finding only an empty spot with some left over webbing.

”Shit” he swore to himself. He tried to pick up some wet paper files but they fell apart almost instantly as he did. At least he had managed to foil your break out plans he thought to himself.

——

You grappled your way to your secret lair, an old storage unit your mom had used during her time as the Black Cat. You opened your door and walked inside seeing collections of jewelry and paintings, maps with marked out locations and all your tech stuff. You slammed the door behind you and ripped off your mask throwing it aside.

You walked up to your working bench and slammed your fists on the table, your one chance you could’ve had to free your mom from prison and that stupid arachnid boy had ruined everything.

You grabbed something random from the working bench and threw it across the room in a rage, making it smash against the wall…

——

You layed with crossed arms on your bed leaning against the headborard as Peter played video games on your flatscreen tv. Your dad was out of town for business so you and Peter decided to have a sleepover while he was gone.

You thought about canceling with Peter after last nights failed theft but you hoped his company might help cheer you up… so far it wasn’t working, you had a noticable scowl on your face and a clear lack of energy in your voice.

Peter had noticed but not pointed it out as he wasn’t completely sure you wanted to talk about it. Once he finished the level he put the controller aside and layed down next to you. He gently touched your arm and asked ”Y/n, are you okay?”

You turned to him with a distracted look and said simple ”Yeah” but then added a ”Just in a bad mood”. ”Do you want me to leave or something? I can give you space?” Peter asked sweetly, sitting up ready to leave if you wanted some alone time.

”No, stay, i like your company” you said but with more softness in your voice this time as you put your hand on top of his, giving it a light squeeze. ”Alright… is there anything i can do for you?” Peter asked generously. You stayed silent for a moment…

”Can i fuck you?…” you said a mix of coldness and longing in your voice. Peter was caught of guard making him silent, making you quickly add ”You really don’t have to if you don’t want to, i just- i just want some release… that’s all”.

Peter thought about it for a moment and asked curiously ”What did you have in mind?”. You stood up and said ”Come on” and led him out of your room, and down the hallway. You then opened the door to another room where Peter followed you inside.

It was a bigger room than yours, the first thing Peter noticed were the two glass doors along the left wall that opened to a balcony looking out over the other suburban houses. He looked around the room, along the walls were some really nice paintings, like straight out of a museum.

There were also some pictures of you as a child spread around the room, as well as a big family portrait hanging over the headboard of a large bed, a bed for two. This was you parents room.

You stood in front of the double bed and then explained in a darkened tone ”I want to take you like a whore on my parents bed”. The request left Peter on mute, this was something new to him… having sex on your parents bed felt so inappropriate and lewd… and he was suprisingly really turned on by it.

”Look, like i said you really don’t have to if-” you said again but Peter interrupted saying ”Yeah, let’s do it”. You nodded and said ”Okay, get ready then, i’ll get the lube”. You said leaving and walking back to your room.

Peter slowly started undressing pulling of his shirt and pants, leaving him in socks and underwear. Peter moved on to the bed and tried to position himself in a sexy way, like he’d seen you do before.

When you came back inside you threw the bottle of lube on to the bed and tugged your own shirt off. You stood yourself on the edge of the bed and pulled Peter closer by his legs. Peter stood up on his knees and the two of you started hungrily making out.

You grabbed at Peter’s bulge feeling him getting hard in your hand, you then slipped in your hand inside his underwear and rubbed your hand along his cock with a firm grip of him. Peter let out a soft moan in your face as you did.

You then gently pushed Peter on to his back on the big bed and dragged his underwear down his legs and threw them on the floor. Peter was now naked in front of you apart from his white socks which you decided to leave on because you thought it made him look cute.

You unbuckled your belt and pulled you pants down and climbed onto the bed in between his legs. You opened the bottle of lube and poured some in your hand and spreading it on your fingers. You then lifted Peter’s spread legs revealing his tight hole that hadn’t been used in a while.

You mercilessly started shoving your first finger in to him making his mouth gape open. ”Fuck” Peter swore as you watched in satisfaction. You impatiently added another finger into him and then another, pumping them in and out him loosening up his ass. Peter’s dick was now rockhard as you finger fucked him.

You then suddenly pulled out your fingers from him, wanting to get your hard manhood inside him. You flipped Peter on to his stomach giving you a full view of his bubble butt, you started teasing your length against his hole.

You squeezed Peter’s left cheek and gave it a light spank. ”You want my cock?” you asked as you kept teasing his awaiting heat. ”Yeah, i want it, please” Peter said almost begging. You spread his ass and pushed your hung cock in to his tight hole, making Peter whine beneath you.

You groaned feeling Peter’s tight walls around your manhood. ”Fuck Y/n, you’re so big” Peter moaned as you sheated yourself inside him. ”Bet you like that” you said grabbing his hips. Without giving Peter much time to adjust you started rolling your hips, your cock moving in and out of him.

”Taking it like a real slut” you said degradingly as Peter moaned in to the matress. You sped up your thrusts making the sound of skin slapping together sound out through the room, his ass kneading your cock like perfection. You moved your hands to Peter’s back pressing him onto the bed.

”Such a whore for my cock aren’t you?” you asked him as you roughly took his ass. But Peter was to blissed out to answer, you raised a hand and gave Peter’s right ass cheek a hard slap that echoed through the room. ”Aren’t you?” you repeated demandingly.

”Yes, i’m your whore” Peter let out through the ectasy he felt. You fucked yourself in to his heat agressively, using the rage you felt to fuck him like a bitch. His hole clenching around you making you groan loudly.

You bodies started getting sweaty from you intense fucking. Peter moaned loudly as you plowed in to him. ”You love when men fuck you full of their cum?” you asked in a rough tone as your big cock pushed against Peter’s prostate.

”Yes, i love being filled with cum!!!” Peter moaned loudly. If anyone was standing outside the bedroom door they would’ve definetely heard every single word. You laid down on top of Peter and took his hands that were gripping the bedsheets and held Peter down as you thrust wildly in to him.

Peter started getting close from the feeling of your cock fucking deeply in to his now loose open hole. ”I’m gonna cum” Peter whined through his moans. ”Cum then you little whore” you said grabbing Peter’s messy sweaty hair in your hand.

Peter’s length pressed down to the matress then started spilling his seed in to a puddle on the sheets. You thrusts started growing eratic and hungry as you chased your own release. ”Gonna fuck my whore full of cum” you growled to the tired out Peter beneath you.

”Yes fill me with your cum!” Peter gasped which was all you needed to hear as you delivered one last powerful thrust in to him and let your seed erupt deep inside Peter’s heat, filling him all the way up. His hole started leaking as soon as you pulled out of him.

You laid down beside Peter in exhaustion feeling cleansed of your anger. You looked to the side where spotted a picture on the nightside table, it was a picture of you as a kid and your mom before she got locked up. It made a new feeling bubble up inside you.

Sadness…

A tear started trickling down your cheek your cheek as you let out a small whimper. Peter heard and immediately turned to you. He noticed tears had started uncontrolably rolling down your cheeks.

”Y/n, are you okay? Did i do something wrong?” Peter quickly questioned. You shook your head and said ”No, i’m just emotional”. Peter looked conserned at you. ”Can you hold me?” you asked him through sniffs. ”Of course” Peter said and let you nuzzle your tear stained face in to his chest.

He didn’t really understand what was happening or what brought this on but he wrapped his arms around your body letting you cry. You calmed down after a while but you the two of you stayed cuddled together.

Soon enough the two of you fell asleep in the big bed holding each other closely all through the night.

#peter parker x male reader smut #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x male black cat reader #spider man x male reader #spiderman x male reader #spider-man x male reader #avengers x male reader #avengers x male!reader #mcu x male reader #x male reader smut #male reader #x male reader #x male!reader #male black cat reader #black cat!male reader #male black cat!reader

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improbable-outset · 1 year ago

Text

📄 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐂𝐨𝐝𝐞:

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐂…

Hey it’s 1am here in the UK and I don’t have a valentine themed fic. So have this set of HC of my AU series that I’ve been working on instead. There is a mix of wholesome and spicy HC. I’m too lazy to put it in an undercut so minors DNI 🔞

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭��𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will rant about his day in the lab to you. You love hearing him vent to you if he had a terrible day or ramble about an exciting discovery he had made.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will come home to you from a hard works day in the lab. He likes to rest his head between your thighs while his wife massages his scalp. He melts completely under your tender touch. Your fingers are very soft and soothing.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive small love notes or doodles that are packed with his lunch from his wife. Sometimes even spicy messages if you’re feeling risky. They tend to end with him coming back home and fucking you on the nearest surface. Most likely the couch or kitchen counter top.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive a personalised lab coat with his name on it from you, either as a birthday gift or an anniversary present. He now wears it in the lab everyday since.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will involve you when he’s designing gadgets and weapons to be used by the Spider Society. He values your input when brainstorming the prototypes.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will have a personal gym right next to his lab where he would work out and train to maintain his strength and combat skills. This includes a high-tech simulation drill that replicate various combat scenarios to aid and enhance his quick thinking and problem solving abilities.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will have his wife watch him work out from the sidelines. You would admire the determination etched on his face. Maybe even steal a quick kiss in between sets. Sometimes you would sit on the rooftops while Miguel would do his usual web slinging endurance, navigating the city skyline from building to building as part of his training.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will fuck you good when he knows he won’t be home for a few days because of a mission in another dimension. He’ll make sure he reaches every crevice deep inside you. You’ll feel a dull ache from the way he stretched out your walls— a reminder of that passionate night and of your husband’s temporary absence. He doesn’t like using toys, he’d rather use his hands and dick do all the work.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that loves to kiss you all over and talk about the function of each part of your body while praising you and telling you how perfect your are. He loves teasing your erogenous areas to increase your serotonin levels and see how much you would fall apart under his touch.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive a blow job from you as he tries to explain the make reproductive system OR while he talks about his day at work to you. He’s lucky to have you help him with his pent up stress.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that probably keeps a track of your period. For research, of course. After you got off your birth control pills, it’s his responsibility to track when your fertility window takes place so he can breed you at the right time.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that is over the moon when you both find out that you are finally pregnant. Of course he would admire the changes of your body while you’re growing his child. He will eagerly share insight about the embryonic development and the hormonal changes, deepening the intimate connection you both already share.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will admire the changes of your body and will develop a serious lactation kink. He’ll feed from your breast from time to time…for science obviously. He’s just increasing your oxytocin levels so you can produce more milk for your baby daughter. Duh.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will help his daughter with her schoolwork. I know he will probably put extra effort when it comes to her school science project and will probably be more committed to it than her. He just wants what’s best for her.

Mood board

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @thealleydog @ultravioletrayz @club-danger-zone @lazyjellyfish300 @miguelbaby @miguels-aranita (lmk if you want to be tagged for this au idea)

- Ayrus <3

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amethystarachnid · 4 months ago

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hey, could i request the secret admirer trope with mcu peter parker from love is in the air? it would be great if the reader was a female avenger (in a world where no one dies and everyone lives together). i just know that peter would be soo cute as a secret admirer; so could you write into the story him being super paranoid when leaving gifts and little notes at y/n’s door and always being the sweetest? oh and also thinking he’s super slick and all that but y/n actually knows it’s him leaving the gifts and stuff (she checked the security camera footage after the second one) but peter absolutely CANNOT take a hint so she decides to mess with him a little and convinces another avenger (maybe sam?) to act like her boyfriend to make peter jealous because she thinks it’s a little funny (:() but he only gets sad and barely leaves his room and no one knows why (except y/n) so she comes clean after the second day (i seem to have an obsession with the number 2) and kisses him after she comes to see him while he’s moping in his room. i should stop rambling i really hope this isn’t too long and im excited to read what you write! thanks!

(NOT SO) SECRET ADMIRER

⤷ PETER PARKER

ᯓ★ Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open (only by asks)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said and !! important!! both Peter and reader here are twenty-something

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing i think

ᯓ★ I'm backkk! and I hope to have more free time to write for you guys! <3 also I'm working on a Bucky Barnes x fem!demigod!OC (demigod because yes I said so) so let me know if you would be interested <3

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Moving into the Avengers Compound is overwhelming in ways you don’t expect. The high-tech security, the endless hallways, the casual presence of literal superheroes—it’s a lot to take in. You’re used to SHIELD facilities, where everything is sleek and professional, where people nod in acknowledgment but don’t stop to chat. The compound is different. It’s still high-tech, still crawling with some of the most skilled fighters on the planet, but it feels… warmer. Like a home, rather than a base.

It helps that the team is welcoming. Sam and Bucky tease you like an annoying pair of older brothers. Wanda is quick to pull you into conversations, treating you like you’ve always been part of the team. Even Tony, in his own sarcastic way, seems to have accepted you.

Then there’s Peter Parker.

Peter is unlike anyone you’ve worked with before. He’s clumsy but quick, brilliant but self-deprecating, always talking like his thoughts are moving faster than his mouth. He’s a dork, really, but in an endearing way. He’s also ridiculously powerful—not that he acts like it. If you hadn’t seen him in action, you’d never guess the guy who constantly fumbles with his web-shooters is the same Spider-Man who’s taken down entire teams of bad guys on his own.

You notice, almost immediately, that he’s nervous around you. The stammering, the way his face flushes whenever you look at him too long, the way he trips over his own feet when you’re in the same room—it’s impossible to miss. It’s cute.

And then, the gifts start showing up.

The first one appears a week after you move in. You find it on your way back to your room late at night—a slightly crumpled bouquet of daisies, placed neatly in front of your door with a small note.

Welcome to the team! Hope you like these. :)

No name. Just a simple message and a cute little smiley face.

You smile, crouching down to pick up the flowers. They aren’t professionally arranged—some of the stems are uneven, and a few petals look a little worse for wear—but there’s something undeniably sweet about them. Someone went out of their way to welcome you, and you have a pretty good guess who.

Still, you don’t say anything. You don’t want to assume. Maybe it’s Wanda. Maybe it’s Sam messing with you.

Then, three days later, another gift appears. A small bag of your favorite candy, along with another note.

Saw you training today. You’re incredible. Hope this makes your night better!

Again, no name. But the handwriting is the same.

That’s when your curiosity gets the better of you.

You’re trained to notice patterns, to pick up on the details most people overlook. And you’re trained to investigate. So, you do what any ex-SHIELD agent would—you check the security footage.

It doesn’t take long to find what you’re looking for. You scroll back to the timestamp from the night before, eyes scanning the grainy hallway footage. Then, right on schedule, someone drops into view.

Peter Parker.

You watch as he crouches in front of your door, carefully placing the candy down like it might explode. His movements are quick but nervous—he keeps glancing up and down the hallway like he expects someone to catch him. Then he pulls out the note, smooths it down three times, mutters something under his breath, and web-slings to the ceiling.

You replay the footage, laughing to yourself.

Of course, it’s Peter.

The pieces click together so perfectly you can’t believe you didn’t realize it earlier. The awkwardness, the way he lights up when you talk to him, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. He has a crush on you.

And now, you know.

But you don’t tell him. Because, honestly? It’s adorable. And if Peter wants to keep thinking he’s being sneaky, you’re more than happy to let him.

Since then, the gifts keep coming.

Every few days, something new appears at your door. Sometimes, it’s snacks after a long mission. Other times, little trinkets—stickers, keychains, a tiny plush cat because you mentioned once that you like them. And always, always a note.

You start having fun with it.

You drop hints, teasing him just enough to see if he reacts. You compliment his intelligence, lean in close when you’re standing next to him, smile a little longer than necessary. You even start leaving notes of your own—nothing direct, just little things you know will fluster him.

Nice work in training today, Peter. Maybe next time, you’ll actually land a hit on me. ;)

He reads it while you’re in the same room, and his face turns so red you think he might combust.

It’s perfect.

But somehow, despite all your efforts, he remains completely oblivious.

Tonight, you’re determined to push him just a little further.

It’s late, and most of the team has already gone to bed. You’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping tea when Peter walks in. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it, and he’s wearing a hoodie that’s at least two sizes too big.

“Oh,” he says, stopping in his tracks. “Hey!”

You smile. “Hey, Peter.”

He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t think anyone else was up.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you say. “What about you?”

“Uh, same,” he says, though you suspect he was probably sneaking around to drop off another gift.

You decide to test him. “I found something outside my door again.”

Peter stiffens. “Oh?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah. It’s kind of weird, though. It’s like… I keep getting these little gifts. And notes. No idea who they’re from.”

He swallows hard. “That’s—uh—crazy.”

You nod. “Right? I mean, it’s sweet. Really sweet. But I wonder who’s doing it.”

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, um, no clue. Could be anyone.”

You step closer, just enough to make him notice. “You think so?”

His eyes dart to your face, then away again. “Y-yeah! I mean, maybe it’s, like, a team thing? Or—uh—someone trying to make you feel welcome?”

You hum, pretending to consider it. “Maybe. But it’s funny… they always seem to know exactly what I like.”

Peter practically short-circuits. “That’s—uh—wild.”

You bite back a grin. He’s so obvious it hurts.

“Well,” you say, leaning against the counter beside him, “whoever it is, I kind of wish they’d just talk to me.”

Peter blinks. “Oh?”

You nod, watching him carefully. “Yeah. I mean, sneaking around is cute and all, but I’d really like to get to know them.”

For a second, you think maybe—maybe—he’ll take the hint. But then, he just lets out a choked laugh and says, “Yeah! Totally! That would be—uh—cool!”

You sigh internally.

Peter Parker is the worst secret admirer in the world.

But he’s also the sweetest.

So, you’ll wait. You’ll keep playing along, keep flirting, keep dropping hints. And maybe—eventually—he’ll realize you like him too.

Peter Parker is a genius.

He built his web-shooters from scraps, made it through MIT’s entrance exams before graduating high school, and helps Tony Stark with tech that makes most people’s heads spin.

And yet, for all his intelligence, he’s completely, hopelessly, unbelievably clueless.

You keep flirting with him, testing the waters, pushing the line between teasing and something a little more. Sometimes, it’s subtle—a hand on his arm when you laugh, leaning a little too close when you talk. Other times, it’s… less subtle.

Like the time you stretch in the training room, arching your back just enough to make him flustered, only to watch in delight as Peter—mid push-up—faceplants directly onto the mat. Or the time you “accidentally” call him handsome in front of the team, and he spends the next five minutes sputtering like a broken car engine while everyone watches in confusion.

At this point, it’s a personal challenge.

You want to see how far you can push him before he finally realizes you’re into him. And if he doesn’t? Well. You’re having way too much fun watching him suffer.

The best part is that no one else seems to notice. Everyone assumes Peter is just awkward (which, to be fair, he is), and you’re just being friendly (which, to be fair, you are—just with extra flirting).

At least, that’s what you think.

Until Sam Wilson calls you out.

It happens in the common room. You’re lounging on the couch after a morning mission, scrolling through your phone, when Sam plops down beside you with a knowing smirk.

“So,” he says casually, “you gonna tell me why you’ve been messing with Parker?”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Come on,” Sam drawls. “You’ve been flirting with that boy so hard I’m surprised he hasn’t passed out yet.”

You fight back a laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then explain why he turns redder than Wanda’s magic every time you walk into the room.”

You shrug. “Maybe he’s just allergic to me.”

Sam snorts. “Nah, he’s just allergic to rizz.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Sam.”

“Hey, I’m just saying.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “Kid’s got it bad for you, and you know it.”

You sigh dramatically. “Yeah. But he has no idea I know.”

Sam squints at you. “Wait. He doesn’t know you know?”

“Nope.”

“…And he doesn’t know that you know that he doesn’t know you know?”

You blink. “What?”

“Never mind.” Sam shakes his head. “So, what’s the deal? You just enjoying the slow burn? Or are you waiting for him to finally grow a pair and ask you out?”

You grin. “A little of both.”

Sam lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s evil.”

“Not evil,” you correct. “Just… patient.”

Sam gives you a look. “Right. And I’m Captain America.”

You smirk. “You wish.”

He grins, then tilts his head, clearly considering something. “You want me to help?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Help how?”

Sam stretches his arms behind his head. “I could drop some hints. Get in his head a little.”

You hum, pretending to think about it. “Tempting.”

“Oh, come on,” Sam nudges you. “You know you want to see him suffer.”

That makes you laugh. “Fine. But don’t be too mean.”

“No promises,” Sam says, already grinning like he’s planning something dangerous.

You don’t know exactly what he’s going to do, but you do know one thing—Peter Parker doesn’t stand a chance.

It starts at breakfast.

Peter is sitting at the table, eating a massive bowl of cereal, when Sam slides into the seat across from him.

“What’s up, Parker?”

Peter blinks, mouth full. “Mmf?”

Sam smirks. “You know, I’ve been noticing something lately.”

Peter swallows, already looking nervous. “Noticing what?”

Sam leans forward. “You and Y/N.”

Peter chokes on his cereal.

“I—what?” he sputters, coughing.

“You and Y/N,” Sam repeats, smirking. “Something going on there?”

Peter turns so red you’re afraid he might actually explode. “N-no! I mean—uh—why? Did she say something?”

Sam pretends to think. “Hmm. Can’t say. But, you know, she does talk about you a lot.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “She does?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam says. “Like, the other day, she was saying how much she loves a guy who’s smart. Thought that was interesting.”

Peter makes a strangled sound. “She—she did?”

Sam nods. “And then she said something about how she likes guys who are good with their hands.”

Peter immediately drops his spoon. “WHAT?”

Sam shrugs. “I dunno, man. Just something to think about.”

Peter looks like he’s about to faint.

You, watching from across the room, nearly lose it.

For the next week, Sam continues his psychological warfare.

One morning, while you’re stretching before training, Sam casually mentions, “Hey, Parker, did you know Y/N thinks your arms are nice?”

Peter nearly drops the dumbbell he’s holding.

Then, during a mission briefing, Sam leans over and says, “You know, Y/N was just telling me how much she loves guys who can fight.”

Peter immediately starts sweating.

But the final straw comes during movie night. The team is gathered in the common room, popcorn bowls scattered across the couches, when Sam—loudly, for the whole room to hear—says, “Hey, Parker, Y/N said she likes guys who can take charge. What do you think that means?”

Peter, in the middle of drinking his soda, chokes so violently that Tony has to pat him on the back.

You’re dying.

Sam is clearly having the time of his life. Every time Peter panics, he shoots you a smug look, and you have to fight to keep a straight face.

Peter, meanwhile, is suffering.

And the best part? He still doesn’t get it.

Still doesn’t realize you’re into him.

At this point, you’re genuinely starting to think he might never figure it out.

But you’re patient.

So, you wait. You flirt. You tease. And you watch as Peter Parker, one of the smartest people you know, continues to be the most oblivious person on the planet.

At first, Peter’s obliviousness is adorable. It’s fun watching him squirm, fun seeing him turn bright red whenever you so much as look at him a little too long. But now? Now it’s getting annoying.

You’ve been dropping hints for weeks. You’ve been touching his arm, leaning in close, giving him every possible signal short of straight-up kissing him. And what does he do? He stammers. He trips over his own feet. He gets so flustered that he either short-circuits completely or runs away like a scared puppy.

It’s maddening.

You’re starting to wonder if you’re doing something wrong. Maybe you’re not being obvious enough. Maybe Peter just doesn’t think you could actually like him. Which is ridiculous, because if anyone in this compound paid half as much attention to him as you did, they’d see exactly why you liked him. He’s smart, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he’s got this dorky charm that somehow makes your heart race in ways it absolutely shouldn’t.

But none of that matters if he doesn’t get the damn hint.

So, you decide to kick things up a notch.

You start small. The next time you see Peter in the gym, you make sure to stretch right in front of him. It’s a bold move, but you’re desperate. You slowly lift your arms above your head, arching your back just enough to be noticeable. Then, when you bend down to touch your toes, you peek up to see if he’s watching.

He is.

And then he immediately panics and turns away so fast he nearly walks into the weight rack.

You barely hold back an eye roll.

Fine. If that didn’t work, maybe something else will.

Later that day, you find him in the lab, tinkering with his web-shooters. You walk in, pretending like you don’t have an agenda, and lean against the table. He looks up, startled, then immediately averts his gaze.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he says, voice slightly higher than usual. “What’s up?”

You tilt your head, resting a hand under your chin. “Nothing much. Just needed a distraction.”

Peter nods, focusing way too hard on his web-fluid cartridge. “Yeah? Um. Cool. What—uh—what kind of distraction?”

You smirk. “Oh, you know. Something fun.”

Peter’s hand slips, and a small burst of web-fluid sprays onto the table. He stares at it like it personally betrayed him.

You grin, stepping closer, casually placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re so tense, Peter. You ever think about taking a break?”

He lets out the fakest laugh you’ve ever heard. “Me? Oh, no, I’m—I’m good! Totally fine! Not tense at all!”

You squeeze his shoulder lightly. “Really? Because you feel tense.”

Peter swallows so hard you can see his Adam’s apple bob. “I—uh—”

You drag your fingers down his arm slowly. “Maybe you just need someone to help you relax.”

Peter makes a noise that is definitely not human and abruptly stands up so fast his chair nearly topples over. “I-I should really finish this!” he blurts out. “So much work to do! Web-fluid doesn’t improve itself! Haha!”

You blink as he practically throws himself back into his project, acting like you didn’t just borderline seduce him in the middle of the lab.

It’s unbelievable.

How is it possible for someone to be this dense?

You sigh, finally stepping back. “Alright, Parker. Have fun with your webs.”

“Y-you too!” he stammers. Then, realizing that makes no sense, he adds, “I mean—uh—have fun with whatever you’re doing! Yep!”

You walk out, shaking your head.

This is getting ridiculous.

That night, you call for reinforcements.

Sam lounges on your bed, arms crossed behind his head, looking entirely too smug. “So. Parker still being an idiot?”

You flop onto the bed beside him. “He’s impossible.”

Sam chuckles. “Told you.”

“I don’t get it,” you groan. “I’ve been all over him. I’ve flirted, I’ve touched him, I’ve literally told him I think he’s cute, and he still doesn’t get it.”

Sam snorts. “Man, that boy is a lost cause.”

“There has to be a way to make him realize,” you say, frustrated.

Sam hums, thinking. Then he smirks. “Have you tried making him jealous?”

You pause. “Jealous?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “You know. Flirt with someone else. See if that gets his brain to finally start working.”

It’s not a bad idea.

You sit up, considering it. “You think that’ll work?”

“Oh, definitely.” Sam grins. “Peter’s the kind of guy who doesn’t realize what he wants until he thinks he’s about to lose it.”

You tap your fingers against your thigh, mulling it over. It’s risky. But at this point, you’re willing to try anything.

“Alright,” you say. “Let’s do it.”

The plan is simple. The next day, you start subtly flirting with other people. Nothing crazy, just enough to test Peter’s reaction. You laugh a little too hard at Bucky’s jokes, compliment Steve’s biceps during training, even lean in close when talking to Sam just to see if Peter notices.

He does.

And he looks like he’s about to self-destruct.

The first time you flirt with Bucky, Peter nearly drops the coffee he’s holding. The second time you casually touch Steve’s arm, he stares like he’s witnessing a national tragedy. And when you get extra close to Sam at dinner, Peter’s entire body goes rigid like he’s about to short-circuit.

It’s hilarious.

But it’s also not working fast enough.

So, you take it a step further.

That night, when you run into Peter in the hallway, you lean against the wall, looking at him through your lashes. “You okay, Peter? You’ve been acting weird.”

Peter stiffens. “Me? No! I mean—yes! I mean—I’m totally fine! Why do you ask?”

You tilt your head. “I don’t know. You just seem… distracted.”

Peter laughs nervously. “Nope! Totally focused!”

You step closer. “Are you sure?”

Peter swallows. “Y-yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

You smile, slow and deliberate. “Well, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with other people lately. Thought maybe that was bothering you.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wh—why would that bother me?”

You shrug, trailing a finger along his arm. “I don’t know. Just wondering if maybe you wanted me to spend more time with you instead.”

Peter makes a strangled noise.

Then, just when you think he might finally get it, he blurts out, “I—uh—oh wow, look at the time! I gotta go!”

And then he runs.

Again.

You stand there, stunned, watching as he practically sprints down the hallway like his life depends on it.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face.

Unbelievable.

At this point, you have no idea what else you can do. You’ve flirted, teased, touched, complimented—hell, you’ve practically thrown yourself at him, and he’s still too dense to see it.

Maybe it’s time to just give up.

But then again…

You smirk.

Maybe it’s time to try something even bolder.

This is war.

You have tried everything. Flirting, teasing, touching, straight-up telling Peter you think he’s cute—it’s all been useless. The boy is either the densest human being on the planet, or he truly believes you could never be into him. Either way, you’re at your breaking point.

So, you decide to take Sam’s advice.

You’re going to make Peter jealous.

And not just by flirting with other people. That clearly hasn’t worked. No, you’re going for the nuclear option. If he won’t get a clue after everything you’ve done, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll realize he likes you if he thinks he’s already lost you.

Which is why you’re sitting on Sam’s bed, grinning while he stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“You want me to what?”

“Pretend to be my boyfriend,” you say, voice casual.

Sam blinks. “Oh, hell no.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan, nudging him. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. Just a little act to make Peter jealous. You’re the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“I said flirt with other people,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. “Not start a fake relationship.”

“Please, Sam,” you whine, clasping your hands together. “You’re the only one I trust to do this. And admit it, you think it’ll be hilarious.”

Sam considers this for a moment, then sighs. “Okay, yeah, it will be funny.”

You grin. “So, you’re in?”

He gives you a look. “This is gonna end in disaster, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” you say. “But it’ll be fun.”

Sam groans, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But if this backfires, you owe me big time.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, the plan is in motion.

The next morning, it begins.

You start by holding Sam’s hand at breakfast. It’s subtle, casual, like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times before. Sam plays along perfectly, smirking as he squeezes your hand.

Peter, sitting across the table, nearly chokes on his toast.

“Oh, you okay there, Parker?” Sam asks, smirking.

Peter forces a laugh. “Yeah! Totally fine!”

You smile sweetly. “Good. You looked a little… surprised.”

Peter shakes his head rapidly. “Nope! Not surprised! Just, um—just didn’t know you guys were—uh—” He gestures between you and Sam, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Sam shrugs. “Oh yeah, it’s a new thing. We figured, why not?”

Peter goes rigid. “Oh. Cool. That’s—uh—that’s really cool.”

You squeeze Sam’s hand again, leaning your head against his shoulder for dramatic effect. “Yeah. It is.”

Peter looks like someone just told him Spider-Man isn’t a real superhero.

It’s both hilarious and a little sad.

You expect him to ask questions, to push for details, but instead, he just goes quiet. He finishes his breakfast quickly, mutters some excuse about needing to work on something in the lab, and leaves before you can say another word.

You frown as you watch him go.

“Well,” Sam says, “that was… unexpected.”

You turn to him. “What do you mean?”

Sam gestures toward the door Peter just left through. “I figured he’d get all flustered, maybe try to ‘compete’ for your attention. But he just shut down.”

You chew your lip, suddenly feeling uneasy. “Yeah. That was weird.”

And it only gets weirder.

For the next few days, Peter avoids you. Completely.

He stops sitting next to you at meals. He doesn’t spar with you in training. He doesn’t even make eye contact when you pass him in the hallways. Every time you try to talk to him, he either mumbles some excuse or straight-up disappears.

It’s like he’s a ghost.

And no one—not even Sam—can figure out why.

At first, you think maybe he’s just adjusting. Maybe he’s trying to process his feelings, or maybe he’s sulking. But then you start hearing things.

“He’s been in the lab all day,” Bucky says at dinner one night.

“Yeah, he skipped training again,” Steve adds. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda says, frowning. “He barely talks to anyone anymore.”

You try to play it cool, but inside, you’re panicking.

Because you know exactly why Peter is acting like this.

And suddenly, it’s not funny anymore.

That night, you find yourself standing outside Peter’s room. You hesitate, hand hovering over the door. You don’t know if he’ll even answer, but you have to try.

You knock.

Silence.

You knock again. “Peter? It’s me.”

More silence.

You sigh. “I know you’re in there.”

Still nothing.

You lean against the door, voice softer now. “Peter… can we talk?”

A long pause. Then, finally, a quiet voice from the other side.

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your heart clenches. “Why not?”

Another pause. Then—so soft you almost don’t hear it—Peter says, “Because I don’t want to make things weird.”

You blink, confused. “Weird? Peter, what are you talking about?”

He sighs. “You and Sam. You guys are happy. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna get in the way.”

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

You screwed up.

You thought Peter would get jealous. You thought he’d realize his feelings and maybe—just maybe—make a move. But instead, he assumed the worst. He thought he lost his chance.

And now he’s shutting himself off because he thinks it’s the right thing to do.

You feel like the worst person in the world.

“Peter,” you say carefully, “you’re not in the way.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “I dunno. Feels like I am.”

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly. “You’re not.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, Peter says, “Are you happy?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

Because the answer is complicated.

You’re happy when you’re around Peter. You’re happy when he smiles at you, when he laughs, when he rambles about some weird science thing that you barely understand.

You’re happy with him.

Not Sam.

Never Sam.

And you should’ve realized that before pulling this stupid stunt.

You take a deep breath. “Peter… can I come in?”

Another long pause. Then, finally, the door unlocks.

You step inside. Peter is sitting on his bed, looking exhausted. His hair is messier than usual, dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping. It makes your chest ache.

You sit beside him, close but not too close. “I need to tell you something.”

Peter nods, but doesn’t look at you.

You hesitate, then say, “Sam and I aren’t together.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes wide. “Wait. What?”

“It was fake,” you admit, voice soft. “I just… I thought maybe if you saw me with someone else, you’d realize…”

You trail off, heart pounding.

Peter stares at you, completely still. “Realize what?”

You swallow. This is it. No more games.

You meet his gaze, voice barely above a whisper.

“That I like you, Peter.”

Peter doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes wide, lips parted slightly. His whole body has gone still, like he’s afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to believe what you just said.

You watch the way his brain tries to process it, his thoughts practically running across his face in real-time. His eyebrows furrow like he thinks you might be messing with him, then lift slightly, like maybe—just maybe—he dares to hope you’re telling the truth.

You inhale, steeling yourself. “I like you, Peter. I have for a while.”

He still doesn’t say anything.

Your heart pounds as you force yourself to keep going. “And I know about the gifts. The notes. Everything.”

Peter jerks back like you just electrocuted him. “You—what?”

You exhale, giving him a small smile. “I know it was you. I checked the security footage after the second one.”

Peter makes a strangled sound and immediately buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

You bite back a laugh. “Peter—”

“Oh my god,” he groans again, voice muffled. “This is so embarrassing. You weren’t supposed to know.”

You grin. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

Peter drags his hands down his face, looking like he wants to disappear into the floor. “This is… this is bad.”

You tilt your head. “Why is it bad?”

“Because!” He gestures wildly. “You weren’t supposed to know it was me! I thought I was being sneaky! I had a whole system!”

Your smile softens. “Peter. It was adorable.”

He makes another pained noise, slumping forward, hands in his hair. “This is the worst day of my life.”

You shake your head, fondness swelling in your chest. You reach out, resting a hand on his arm. “Peter.”

He stops rambling immediately, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You squeeze his arm lightly. “I loved the gifts. And the notes. And everything about it. You have no idea how much they meant to me.”

Peter swallows. “Really?”

You nod. “Really. And you wanna know the best part?”

“…What?”

You smile, shifting closer. “I like you too, you idiot.”

Peter’s breath catches.

He looks at you, and for the first time since you walked into his room, there’s something new in his eyes. Something hopeful.

He licks his lips, voice barely above a whisper. “You do?”

Instead of answering, you decide to show him.

You lean in slowly, giving him a chance to pull away. He doesn’t. He just watches you, eyes locked on your lips, chest rising and falling like he can’t believe this is happening.

Then, finally, you close the distance.

The second your lips touch his, Peter freezes. For a split second, he doesn’t move—like his brain short-circuited entirely.

Then, suddenly, he melts.

He kisses you back with so much enthusiasm it nearly knocks you over. His hands fly to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His lips are soft and warm, moving against yours like he’s trying to make up for all the time you’ve both wasted dancing around this.

It’s messy, desperate, but it’s perfect.

Peter makes a small, needy sound in the back of his throat and pulls you closer, fingers pressing into your sides like he’s making sure you’re real. His heart is racing—you can feel it against your own chest, pounding like it’s trying to break free.

You smile against his lips. “You’re kissing me like a happy puppy.”

Peter pulls back just enough to breathe, his face flushed, eyes dazed. “I am a happy puppy.”

You laugh, cupping his face. “Good.”

Peter blinks at you, then suddenly grins—wide and bright and so full of joy it makes your chest ache. “Wait. I’m kissing you. We’re kissing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, genius, we are.”

He looks almost dizzy with excitement. “This is—this is real, right? I’m not dreaming?”

You smirk. “If you were dreaming, would I do this?”

You tug him back in and kiss him again, slow and deep.

Peter practically melts, hands tightening on your waist as he kisses you back like his life depends on it. His lips are warm, a little clumsy but sweet, and the way he holds you—like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him—makes your stomach flip.

When you finally pull away, Peter is breathless.

“I’m so happy right now,” he says, looking at you like you hung the stars.

You smile, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

Peter’s face lights up, and before you can say another word, he pulls you back in, kissing you again, and again, and again—like he’s trying to make up for lost time.

And honestly?

You’re more than okay with that.

It’s almost ridiculous how unsurprised everyone is when you and Peter officially become a couple. The second you announce it—or rather, the second Peter stammers through telling everyone while blushing like crazy—the reactions are so underwhelming that Peter nearly short-circuits.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Natasha says dryly, not even looking up from cleaning her knives.

“Finally,” Bucky mutters, shaking his head.

“Wait, you guys weren’t already together?” Clint asks, genuinely confused.

Bruce just gives a small, approving nod. Steve claps Peter on the shoulder like he’s just congratulated him on getting a promotion. Even Thor, who’s barely around, chuckles and calls you both “young warriors of love,” which makes Peter go completely red.

But the best reaction comes from Tony.

Because Tony Stark, billionaire genius, mentor, and serial eye-roller, just grins. Not a smirk, not a sarcastic look, but a real, proud, genuine grin.

“About damn time, kid.”

Peter practically chokes.

Tony pats him on the back, almost knocking the air out of him. “Seriously. I was starting to think you were gonna need some kind of intervention.”

Peter blinks. “You—you knew?”

Tony snorts. “Knew? Parker, you’re about as subtle as a wrecking ball. The only one who didn’t know was you.”

Peter sputters, but you’re just smiling. Tony’s approval means a lot to Peter, and you can tell by the way his eyes light up that hearing Tony say he was rooting for him is the best thing that’s happened to him all day.

But of course, because it’s Peter, he has to ruin his own happiness by still being annoyed at Sam.

Ever since the whole fake-boyfriend prank, Peter hasn’t exactly gotten over it. He knows it was just a joke. He knows you only did it to mess with him. He knows Sam doesn’t actually have feelings for you.

But does that stop him from glaring every time Sam so much as breathes near you? Absolutely not.

And Sam? Oh, Sam knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Sam calls out one day, waltzing into the common room where you and Peter are curled up on the couch. He doesn’t even sit down before looking straight at Peter and smirking. “Relax, Spidey, I’m not gonna steal your girl.”

Peter bristles immediately. “I wasn’t—”

Sam laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, kid. Relax.”

Peter does not relax.

And you? You’re getting a little tired of your boyfriend pouting every time Sam so much as looks in your direction.

Which is why, after dinner that night, when Peter is still sulking over Sam calling you “sweetheart” in passing (just to mess with him, of course), you decide to do something about it.

You grab his wrist and pull him toward his room.

Peter stumbles after you, confused. “Uh, Y/N? What’s—”

You push the door open and drag him inside, shutting it behind you. Then, without a word, you shove him onto the bed.

Peter yelps, arms flailing as he lands on his back. “What—?”

You climb onto the bed beside him and immediately wrap yourself around him, curling into his side.

Peter freezes.

You sigh contently, nuzzling into his chest. “There. Now you can stop sulking.”

Peter doesn’t move for a solid five seconds. Then, very slowly, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“…I wasn’t sulking,” he mumbles, but it’s half-hearted at best.

You smile against his shirt. “Yes, you were.”

Peter huffs. “Sam’s just—he’s just annoying.”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “You know he’s only doing it because he knows it gets under your skin, right?”

Peter groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I know. But that doesn’t make it less annoying.”

You chuckle, reaching up to brush some of his curls away from his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Peter immediately flushes. “I—I’m not jealous.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He sighs. “…Okay, maybe a little.”

You grin and press a kiss to his jaw. “You don’t have to be. You already won, Peter. I’m yours.”

Peter makes a tiny, happy noise in the back of his throat and buries his face in your hair. “Say it again.”

You laugh. “What? That I’m yours?”

He nods, arms tightening around you.

You shift so that you’re straddling him now, hands resting on his chest as you lean down. “I’m yours, Peter Parker.”

Peter looks up at you, eyes wide and filled with so much awe it makes your heart ache. Then, before you can say anything else, he surges up and kisses you, gripping your waist like he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, sweet, and full of emotion. When you finally pull away, Peter just sighs happily and flops back onto the bed, keeping you in his arms.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur against his chest.

Peter hums, already halfway to falling asleep. “Maybe. But I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat. He’s never said that before.

You lift your head to look at him, but his eyes are already closed, his breathing soft and even. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too, Peter.”

And as you settle against him, warm and safe in his arms, you know for a fact—jealousy or not, Peter Parker is yours. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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ms-demeanor · 2 years ago

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Hi there! Firstly, wanna say a huge thank you: your blog has inspired me to become more educated about cybersecurity and nutrition, and it’s the reason my brother and I now use Firefox! I came across this article and… it seemed to raise a lot of valid points about Mozilla, but I have no idea if they are true or not since I’m not that knowledgeable about tech, and they go against everything I’ve ever heard about Firefox. Wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind giving it a quick read, if that’s not too much trouble, and explaining why it’s false/true? If you can, ofc, I realise that is a weird request, and I promise it&: not something I’d usually ask someone. I just thought I’d ask since you’re the only sort of ‘tech’ person I can think of whom I’d trust to know stuff about this. https://digdeeper.neocities.org/articles/mozilla

So this is a great example of someone reading a ToS uncharitably and extracting the most paranoid bullshit possible.

Aside from the absolute classic "oh noes they are storing info about what devices you use" (if you use firefox logged in mozilla will collect information about what device and OS you use to connect; they do this for a lot of reasons like figuring out what stuff the bulk of their users are using but also because *they can't display on your device without that data*) I want to zoom in on this as an example:

BTW, there is one really funny thing inside the account ToS (MozArchive) that I just have to mention: "We may suspend or terminate your access to the Services at any time for any reason, including [...] our provision of the Services to you is no longer commercially viable." The fuck? If you stop bringing them profit, you're gone. They really said that! To me, this is a roundabout admission that your data is being sold. And if it's not worth much (for whatever reason), then you get kicked out.

This person is highlighting the idea that they may cut you off from services if the provision of those services is no longer commercially viable. This author is saying "FIREFOX WILL BOOT YOU WHEN YOU STOP BEING A PROFITABLE LITTLE PAYPIG FOR THEM"

But. Okay. Let's go look at that section of the ToS:

These Terms will continue to apply until ended by either you or Mozilla. You can choose to end them at any time for any reason by deleting your Mozilla account, discontinuing your use of the Services, and if applicable, unsubscribing from our emails. We may suspend or terminate your access to the Services at any time for any reason, including, but not limited to, if we reasonably believe: (i) you have violated these Terms, (ii) you create risk or possible legal exposure for us; or (iii) our provision of the Services to you is no longer commercially viable. We will make reasonable efforts to notify you by the email address associated with your Mozilla account or the next time you attempt to access the Services. In all such cases, these Terms shall terminate, including, without limitation, your license to use the Services, except that the following sections shall continue to apply: Indemnification, Disclaimer; Limitation of Liability, Miscellaneous.

Bud. This says "we are not obligated to provide services to you and we may stop providing services that cost us more money to maintain than is viable." This isn't about selling your data, this is about backwards compatibility and sunsetting projects. They don't have to keep providing access to services they're no longer developing nor bend over backwards to make sure that you can keep running a version of the browser that uses the extensions they dropped support for ten years ago.

Ugh. I got to the section where they talk about cucking for manifest3 and jesus this asshole. Manifest 3 is a defacto set of web standards that are changing because google has so much market share as a browser that if they do something everybody else has to follow or they're going to break basic functionality; if they don't make these changes eventually a shitload of websites just will not work on firefox. WAY more than currently experience this problem. Nobody is happy about manifest 3 and the fact that mozilla put out a press release about coming manifest 3 changes (that was not positive!) doesn't mean they're happy about getting dragged along by the nose; this blogger would prefer something like them refusing to adopt those standards, but all that would happen is that they'd lose more users because less shit would work on firefox browsers since people write their sites for chrome first and anything else second if at all.

This writer also gripes a lot about things like "mozilla took away this functionality for the sake of security and SURE you can change that by going into the configurations but it should be an option right in the first panel of the settings what are they really trying to hide???" and they're not trying to hide anything bud they're trying to make a functional browser with intuitive menus for people who aren't power users.

Like they want to be able to do everything they want and they want to be able to see the option in front of them at all times. It's a weird combination of "I know how to configure everything about this browser" and "if a setting is ever hidden behind a readmore it's a dark pattern and is an attack on user privacy." Like they gripe a lot about privacy and then link to a bunch of pages on mozilla where they explain their privacy settings and link to tutorials on how to hide the data that they just explained they collect.

Yeah this is someone I would walk away from in order to avoid getting into a fistfight.

"FOSS licenses are nice but they don't ensure quality" nobody said they did.

"FOSS licensed softwares don't always accept user participation in development" nobody said they did

"I can't change the actual code of firefox to remove things that I don't like don't tell me to fork it it has to be all or nothing mozilla specifically has to do what I want or it's user hostile" I can see why it would be hostile to you as a user fuck you dude this is why forks *exist* (also the "spyware" discussed is basic browser tracking stuff, the realistic necessities of how email work that make it not private by default like the PROTOCOLS are not private you can't get around that, and a lot of the stuff is opt out but improves functionality for day to day users, AND a lot of the tracking is specifically for people with logged-in accounts which are not necessary to use firefox like if you hate pocket don't use it my friend! I also hate pocket it is quite simple to never use it thanks)

"There's no justification for making the source code unavailable" my dude. https://hg.mozilla.org/mozilla-central/

"If they really cared about an open internet they'd work toward killing capitalism." Friend. I think there's very little more that a web browser could do to undermine the capitalist nature of huge chunks of the web and maintain a broad userbase than what firefox is doing.

I'm reminded of the time that I saw someone losing their shit about a linux distro that included chrome as *a* browser - not the default browser, but *a* browser.

It is an unpleasant fact that a lot of firefox's funding comes from google. That's part of why google is still the default search engine in Firefox and I read some similar articles decrying mozilla's residence firmly in Google's pocket a few years ago. I don't think there's anyone at mozilla who is genuinely pleased that their cheques are signed by google, but there are a ton of people at mozilla who are happy they can keep the lights on because getting paid by google means that they can do as much as they possibly can to create a functional browser that has a significant interest in privacy by default and that can be made *VERY* private by a dedicated user.

Anyway a lot of the stuff on this post is things like "a certificate expired five years ago and broke extensions and that means that mozilla is incompetent and hates users" or "eleven years ago there was a slapfight in the bug reporting forums between a user and a mod and the fact that the user was kicked after repeatedly being told his fix wasn't going to get made is censorship."

The big beefs at the center of this post are:

Mozilla collects data on users

Mozilla limits functionality that should be up to the users

Mozilla takes money from google

and my refutations are:

it does, and it is less than any other mainstream browser and is much much more transparent about what data is collected and how to prevent that data from being collected

A lot of the functionality they're discussing is still there and the stuff that isn't is allowing unsigned extensions which, dude, put a fork in it. They're not going to budge on unsigned extensions but the bar you have to clear to get signed is really really low; like this guy is LITERALLY saying "allow the installation of malicious extensions."

Yep. They do. This point reminds me of a lot of the people on tumblr who hate ads but also hate it when people pay for tumblr. As it turns out making things costs money, and making things used by millions of people costs *A LOT* of money.

I mean FFS one of the things this writer complains about is that Mozilla has a YouTube page.

This isn't just letting perfect be the enemy of good, it's letting perfect be the enemy of *functionally existing as a large organization in the modern world.*

Anyway, I'm glad you enjoy my blog, thank you for letting me know!

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gimmickblog-taxonomist · 2 years ago

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Important notice! The trees in this family are so large (even split by genus) that they are very likely to be unreadable on tumblr. That's why I have a website, in which you can find the images in full resolution by opening them in a new tab and zooming. Find them here. More info below the cut.

Okay, this tree took a while. There were 130+ blogs to catalog, and that was monumentally slow to do. I hope it doesn't take this long for the next tree. Also- ignore my paltry web design skills. I've attempted to input a more dyslexic friendly font option (I'm not dyslexic myself, if anyone with dyslexia wants to inform me if it is better, that would be great), but I'm honestly not that great at HTML. If any JQuery wizards want to help with a few things, I would owe my endless gratitude.

What's next?

After this big tree, I need some quick projects. I'll most likely update Alphidae, then move to the Potatoes or Snoms- haven't decided yet.

Some notes:

Although there have been some questionable things acted out in this family, I do think it has crafted some pretty interesting ideas. @/the-false-sun and @/the-dungeon-core are some of my favorites.

A quick description of the genera:

Systema - Blogs that emulate part of the game system.

Spectaculum - Roleplay blogs contained within or related to the system, usually as some sort of character.

Actus - Roleplay blogs that fit into the box of a conventional video game NPC, or acting as players within the game.

Faventia - The fandom focused blogs of the EPPRBCU.

Moderatus - Blogs emulating the moderators, tech support, and developers of the game.

Lastly, if any of the blogs present think they deserve a reclassification or have a suggestion to improve this, do not hesitate to notify me.

#family cotididae #a tree

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mxl633 · 7 months ago

Note

ur writing is sooo good, u deserve a follow^^ I loved ur Yunjin fics so much, thank u for answering my request, ik it's too soon to send another request but how about this time it's

Spiderwoman!Yunjin × Villain!Reader, enemies to lovers trope 👀 it could be any villain you want:3

HOLYY SIGMA. I’m so sorry I was busy w my exams and I’m glad you asked me another request (PLEASE DO MORE!!) I was running out of ideas. YOU ASKED N I SHALL DELIVER again thank you so much for supporting me! I’ll do a part 2 on this if you want to

Web of hearts

Spiderwoman!Yunjin x Villain!Reader

Warnings: Violence(not tm) , Morally Grey Characters , Enemies to lovers , Themes of Betrayal and trust ,KISSING!!, mention of struggles

“Web of Hearts”

The city glittered like a jewel under the night sky, its lights painting the horizon in hues of neon pink, electric blue, and sharp gold. Above it all, Yunjin swung from rooftop to rooftop, her Spiderwoman suit sleek against her figure as the cool night air rushed past her. Her thoughts were sharp and focused: you were out there, and she wasn’t going to let you slip away this time.

You had been the bane of her existence for weeks. A mysterious Villain whose crimes were as clever as they were chaotic—art thefts, tech heists, even the occasional explosion just to “make things interesting.” No one had ever pushed her this far, and she hated—no, she couldn’t stand—that you always got under her skin.

Tonight, though, she was ready. She’d tracked your movements, intercepted police chatter, and narrowed down your target: a shipment of cutting-edge technology being smuggled through the city. She perched on the edge of a skyscraper, her masked eyes scanning the streets below like a hawk.

Then she saw it. A sleek figure darting through the shadows of an alley, a bag slung over your shoulder. You moved like a phantom, quick and silent. But you weren’t quick enough.

Yunjin fired a web, and it zipped through the air with precision, yanking the bag from your grip. She dropped down in front of you, landing with a thud that echoed through the narrow alleyway.

“Predictable,” she taunted, twirling the bag in her hand before webbing it to a nearby lamppost.

You stepped out of the shadows, your leather-clad figure illuminated by the dim light. Your mask covered the lower half of your face, but your amused eyes betrayed your emotions. “Predictable? That’s rich coming from someone who keeps playing into my hands.”

Yunjin’s head tilted slightly, her lenses narrowing. “Big talk for someone who’s about to be webbed up like a fly.”

You laughed, low and teasing, before lunging at her. The alley erupted into a whirlwind of motion. Punches, kicks, and flips—it was a dance neither of you could win nor wanted to lose.

But this time, you managed to pin her against the wall. Your hands braced on either side of her head, your bodies too close for comfort.

“Why do you keep chasing me?” you asked, your voice softer now, but no less challenging. “There are bigger, badder villains out there. You don’t even know my endgame.”

“Maybe I like the challenge,” Yunjin shot back, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest.

Your eyes gleamed as a smirk tugged at your lips. “Or maybe you like me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Yunjin faltered, just for a moment, but it was enough. You grabbed her wrist, twisting out of her grip, and spun her around so she was now the one pinned. She gritted her teeth, frustration bubbling up—not just at her failure to gain the upper hand, but at how close you were. She could feel the warmth radiating off you, could see the sharp curve of your jaw under the mask.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered.

“And you’re obsessed with me,” you countered, your voice dropping lower, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

You reached up slowly, your gloved fingers brushing against the edge of her mask. She stiffened but didn’t stop you. “You don’t have to hide, Yunjin,” you murmured. “I’ve known for a while now. You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. She should have been furious, but instead, all she could focus on was your voice, your proximity, the way her name sounded coming from your lips.

“You’re bluffing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Am I?” you whispered back.

The tension between you snapped like a web in the wind as you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers. For a moment, the world disappeared. The city, the mission, the chaos—none of it mattered. Her body reacted instinctively, her hands finding their way to your shoulders as she kissed you back with a fire she didn’t know she had.

When you pulled away, she was breathless, her masked eyes wide with shock.

“This doesn’t mean I’m letting you go,” she said, her voice shaky but firm.

You grinned, stepping back into the shadows. “Sure, Spiderwoman. Catch me if you can.”

And then you were gone.

The kiss haunted her.

Days passed, and every time Yunjin closed her eyes, she felt the ghost of your lips on hers. She hated how easily you’d gotten under her skin, how much she thought about you now.

Still, she couldn’t let it distract her. You were a criminal—a dangerous one—and she had a job to do. But the lines between duty and desire were blurring in ways she couldn’t control.

The next time she found you, it wasn’t because of police chatter or clever detective work. She stumbled upon you while patrolling the city. You were perched on the roof of an abandoned building, staring out at the skyline like you owned it.

She didn’t hesitate, firing a web that wrapped around your arm and yanked you toward her. You stumbled, caught off guard, but quickly recovered, flipping to land gracefully a few feet away from her.

“Didn’t think you’d come back so soon,” you said, brushing off your sleeve.

“You make it impossible not to,” she shot back, her voice sharp but lacking the venom she intended.

You tilted your head, studying her. “You’re different tonight.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I wasn’t. But now I’m curious.”

She tensed as you closed the distance between you, your presence as intoxicating as it was infuriating.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your tone softer now. “I’m not some maniac trying to destroy the world. I have my reasons.”

“Reasons don’t excuse what you’ve done,” she said, though her voice wavered.

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But you’ve never asked why. You just assume I’m the bad guy because it’s easier that way.”

She froze. It wasn’t like she hadn’t wondered—your crimes were always precise, your targets specific. But she’d buried those thoughts beneath her duty to stop you.

“Why, then?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, and for the first time, she saw a crack in your confident façade. “I’m not ready to tell you. Not yet.”

Her eyes narrowed behind the mask. “Convenient.”

“It’s the truth,” you said, stepping even closer. “But you could find out. If you really wanted to.”

“Stop playing games,” she snapped, though her heart wasn’t in it.

You smiled, leaning in until your faces were just inches apart. “I’m not playing. Not with you.”

And then you kissed her again. This time, it wasn’t impulsive—it was deliberate, slow, and full of unspoken words. Her resolve crumbled as she melted into you, her hands gripping the front of your jacket to steady herself.

When you pulled away, her head was spinning.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, though there was no heat in her words.

“And you’re irresistible,” you countered with a smirk before disappearing into the night once more.

The pattern continued. Every encounter blurred the line between enemy and lover until Yunjin couldn’t tell which was which. You’d tease her, push her buttons, and then leave her reeling with a kiss that left her questioning everything.

Eventually, she realized the truth: she didn’t want to stop you anymore. She wanted to understand you. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted you to understand her, too.

But could she ever truly trust you? Could you trust her?

The next time you met, under the pale light of a crescent moon, the air between you was heavy with unspoken words.

“Why do you keep coming back?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Because I can’t stay away,” you admitted, your voice raw.

She stepped closer, her hand reaching up to gently pull your mask away. For the first time, she saw your face—your full face—and it took her breath away.

“I don’t know how to stop this,” she whispered.

“Maybe we don’t have to,” you said, your eyes searching hers.

And for the first time, Yunjin didn’t fight the pull between you. She let herself fall, trusting that, somehow, you’d catch her.

#femalereader #wlw sfw #female reader #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #wlw #huh yunjin #huh yunjin x you #jennifer huh #le sserafim #le sserafim x y/n #le sserafim scenarios #le sserafim fluff #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim yunjin

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kiame-sama · 2 years ago

Text

Random short thing that popped up in my head; what if Miguel's darling accidentally or casually called Miguel 'Daddy'?

Warnings; use of the word Daddy, yandere, yandere behavior, implied adult themes, implied adult behavior, gender neutral reader,

"Miguel," the sweet voice of Miguel's heart spoke up from where they stood by his office door, "can we go soon?"

He had been spending long hours at work and it got to the point that LYLA called in the only person Miguel would listen to, his beloved.

Out of every ill-tempered behavior or aggressive action that Miguel showed, they all seemed to fade away so long as (Y/n) was by his side. Every spider knew that their boss had a weakness for his beloved and they also knew that he was fiercely protective of them even from those who don't pose a threat. However, even if having (Y/n) near Miguel made him protective, it is leaps and bounds better than dealing with an affection starving and prickly Miguel. The longer Miguel went without his lover nearby, the worse his temper became and the more volatile his rage was.

Miguel could work for days with little rest if he needed to, but he was powerless to the pull of his sweet darling calling him home. Still, he wanted to somewhat get his experimental design working before he went home.

"Sí, amor. Just give me a moment to figure this stupid thing out."

(Y/n) frowned as they saw how stubborn Miguel was being and understood why LYLA had called them to coax him out of the office. Whenever he set his mind to something, it was difficult for him to break away even if it made him neglect his own needs. Miguel adored his darling lover and wanted to go home with them, but he was so close to figuring out what was wrong with his newest experiment that he couldn't give up yet.

A sly grin overtook (Y/n)'s visage as they haughtily shrugged and turned, calling over their shoulder to Miguel.

"Okay. Thank you, Daddy."

The words had an immediate reaction from Miguel as an apparent crunching sound was heard, the small electronic crumbling to scrap in his grip. Though it took a moment for his mind to catch up with the statement and fully understand it, his body was quick to warm in response to the sentence. His eyes seemed to burn red as they flicked over to the doorway where his darling had been moments prior, statuesque body flexing.

Much like a cat stalking prey, or a spider judging the meal caught in a complex web, Miguel turned to the door with a clear rigidity. Where he was lithe and flexible, his body was stiff and not fully within his control anymore. A kind of hunger seemed to take over the typically critical and determined man, replacing the respected leader with a savage predator that had a clear target.

LYLA saved and shut everything in the office down as Miguel rushed out after his dearest with little regard to his now ruined piece of tech he destroyed. Perhaps he would blame himself for it tomorrow as he takes in the damage he did while briefly under control of his instincts. For now, Miguel had a single goal and he was going to reach that goal regardless of the effort it took to get there.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere spiderverse #gn reader #gender neutral y/n

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dronebiscuitbat · 11 months ago

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 56)

Hi, quick authors note. I have little to no experience writing action... and I'm a little afraid that might show in this chapter. That being said I do hope it's not confusing and you all enjoy it. It's a Doozy!

The next store, smaller then the toy store and really no more then a kiosk, with trinkets and scanners placed on a simple wooden table, the man standing behind it was cleaning a nixie tube with a cloth.

“You two seem a little young to be looking at these antiques…” His voice was gruff, sporting green eyelights and brown hair under a simple hard hat.

“Just… something specific.” Uzi cracked a wary smile as she took a look at what he had, ancient tech mixed with more modern parts… some of it wasn't exactly… legal. But that had never stopped her before, even if N looked increasingly nervous.

He was off duty sure, he was under no obligation to arrest the man even though his booth was sketchy and some of the parts he was selling were clearly ripped from other parts of bunker. But it still felt wrong to just… not do anything.

Uzi eyed the medical scanner, half buried under other medical equipment (mostly pain relief spikes) it was older, a screen on the front with the back shaped like a scan gun you find at registers. The ones the medical bay had now were automatic, this one was manual, but it would still do the trick.

“How much?”

She pointed to the scanner and the drone squinted at her, his eyes trailing over to Tera, who was still enthralled by her bat toy, then to N.

“Hundred and fifty.” N winced, that was like… half a paycheck. But it wasn't like they needed the money for anything else. So he transferred the credits without another word and the drone grinned wide and toothy, N just turned away as Uzi grabbed the scanner, her nerves seeming to skyrocket now that she had it in her hands.

This thing would tell her what she was, if she was still mechanical or if she was more flesh, ignorance had been bliss, a bliss she wouldn't have for very much longer.

“We got it… you wanna go home and perform it or…”

“No. No we can go home, I need to know.”

N nodded, taking her hand and attempting to lead them out of the marketplace before something seemed to catch his eye. Thad was walking with one of their female classmates, he was being hit on… clearly. But he wasn't giving her much response back, he looked almost bored….

“Hey Thad!” N shouted, making Uzi elbow him in the gut. They were supposed to be heading home! And she definitely didn't feel well enough in any way, to be put in more social situations.

But it didn't matter, Thad heard his name and locked eyes with N, his bored expression turning up into a friendly smile as his attention was turned away from the girl and to his freinds.

“Hey guys! What are you all doing here?” He turned to N, who immediately began to talk nearly nonstop, about his job, about Tera, about her. It would be sweet if she wasn't currently zoning out, thoughts running elsewhere and everywhere.

Maybe that's why she didn't see the red glint from a darkened hallway behind her.

The world around her began to slip away as she tuned out the conversation, there was so much to worry about, and it all seemed to be slowly creeping in on her, she felt like if she focused on it she would suffocate.

And that's when something grabbed her from behind, and she didn't even have time to give out a yelp and barely had time to wrap her hands protectively around Tera as she was yanked backwards, sailing quickly through the halls and into a small room that was only half finished, bare stone making up two of the furthest walls.

She was on her feet instantly, tail wrapping protectectivly around Tera, spines flexed outwards and fangs bared, eyes scanning the dark room for any sign of who dragged her here, a growl left her lips as Tera was uncharacteristically quiet, pressed up against Uzi tightly.

[Hello Uzi] A voice spoken in Russian, automaticly translated by her receptors but it sent chills down her back all the same, she gasped pulling Tera closer and her eyelights hollowing out from anger to fear. She looked around, she didn't even know where the hell she was, much less the route Doll had dragged her to get here, it had gone by too fast.

“What do you want?” She snarled, she couldn't see but a few feet in either direction, this part of the bunker was dark and empty, the only real lighting being the dim florescent light above her.

[To talk] She couldn't pinpoint exactly where Doll's voice was coming from, which only succeeded in making her frustrated, but mostly sacred, Tera was here, this was a bad situation…

“Then why drag me here alone?” She asked, focusing hard on where the response would come from. But she didn't have to, Doll stepped into the light.

She looked… awful.

Her clothes were nothing but tatters and all of them covered in some combination of oil and blood, she walked with a limp and her visor was cracked, she'd tried to cover it with an eyepatch, but she could still see the spiderwebbed fracture. Her remaining eyelight was still as peircing as ever, however.

Even still, Uzi didn't let her guard down.

Doll activated her solver, beginning to circle Uzi like a hyena about to pounce, there were black veins snaking up the leg she was struggling to put weight on, but Uzi recognized the look on Doll's face, hunger.

Who knows how long it'd been since she last fed.

[I had a plan that fell through, I've got nothing and the planet will soon be transformed. I did not find what I was looking for, for that, I am sorry.]

She started talking quickly, like she was running out of time.

[But I am not sorry for what I am going to do to your murder pets when you lure them in here for me, if I cannot be cured, then I want to take them down with me.]

“W-what?” Transformed? Cure? What the hell was Doll talking about?

“Like I'd just let you do that.” She replied, deciding to focus on the most important thing, which was keeping her daughter safe. She activated her own solver, feeling power from her core rush to her fingertips as she accessed it.

[I thought you might say that.]

Something hit her shoulder and sunk in deeply, causing her to yelp and wince as oil oozed out of where a kitchen knife dug into her metal, Uzi immediately made Tera look elsewhere, silent tears of fear shining in the toddlers eyelights as her mother hissed in pain.

“Fuck…” Uzi used her solver to pull out the knife from her shoulder, the wound already beginning to heal over the moment it was removed, she aimed it at Doll and got into the best fighting position she could while carrying a toddler.

[Don't worry, I'll just knock you out.] Doll grinned before summoning more knives and taking aim, Uzi growled, and dug deep to what she remembered doing with the pens to duplicate them, there was more at stake now, her daughters safety depended on her winning this fight.

She duplicated the knives nearly effortlessly, and launched them at Doll at a speed even the Russian was surprised at, though she just teleported out of the way of them, she looked back on them with a half smile.

[You've been practicing]

“Bite me.” Uzi lept out of the way of knives sailing towards her, ending up unfurling her wings to crawl on the ceiling while she held Tera with her actual arms, she felt a different kind of white hot rage fill her, and another feral growl left her lips. Her tail whipped in front of her, sending razer sharp spines raining down on Doll's head, once again, the projectiles just seemed to bounce off, but ever the observant one, Doll had something to say about it.

[I have never seen that mutation before… how cute, you're literally prickly now]

Uzi just growled, crawling over the ceiling and the walls around Doll a lot like an actual bat, she had to keep her distance, her kit was in danger and she had to make as much space between Doll and Tera as possible. She sent more spines her way utterly filling the wall behind the Russian like a stone pincushion.

[What the hell are you holding anyway? It can't be that important.] Uzi blinked, could… could Doll not see very well? That would make sense, she only had one working eyelight…

But that thought came at a bad time, a knife came flying her direction that she couldn't dodge and it caught her in the side, sending her falling off the wall and tumbling to the ground, she sheltered her daughter the best she could from the fall.

She lifted her arm to try to launch the knife back but her core suddenly lurched and visibly sparked with gold, gold glitched across her screen and her solver turned a similar color, her entire body screaming at her to stop what she was doing instantly.

“Agh!” She yelped, curling in on herself and pulling Tera into her, she felt like she was on fire, but Tera was still in danger…

[Oooh… that looked painful.] Doll closed the distance, pointing her solver directly at Uzi's visor, she closed her eyes shut and shielded Tera in her wings as best she could, N could take care of her… V might even step up, she had family still…

“No! Bad! Bad! NO!” Tera flung herself at Doll, slamming her tiny fists uselessly against her, Uzi wanted to scream, but any movement to try and rip Tera away was sending so much agony through her that she just ended up sinking further into the floor.

“Tera No!”

She kept at it though, punching as hard as her little fists could, Doll stopped after a moment of processing, her solver dissolving into nothing as the toddler did her worst… which wasn't much.

[What?] Doll blinked before picking the toddler up with one hand and holding her slightly away, Tera kicked and screamed and spat in her direction, digital tears streaming down her face.

“No! Mama! Bad! No!” Her limited vocabulary spoke volumes, and Doll looked back over at Uzi, who had switched from fighting to downright pleading.

“Please don't hurt her… please… you can do whatever you want with me, but let her go…” It wasn't like Uzi to beg for anything, but the life of her daughter was too important, too precious. Doll's eyes went hollow, her breaths came in quick pants.

[You- Since when?] Doll choked out before she dropped the toddler like she had burned her, Uzi fought through the pain to catch her and hold her close, both mother and child clinging to each other, pushed up against the wall.

[I… I'm…] She looked down at herself, at her ratty clothes covered in oil and blood and the strange growth on her leg as she tumbled backwards, looking terrified, of what, Uzi wasn't sure.

She locked eyes with Uzi, breathing heavily, before red code began to scrub her out of existence, dancing around her like a veil before… she disappeared.

Uzi waited for something else to come, for Doll to come to finish the job or her body to genuinely begin to fall apart or some combination of both, but the pain slowly subsided, her core returning to it's normal functioning, and the room fell silent, absent of Doll.

Tera was sobbing into her, gripping her like she was her only safe haven, digital tears began to fall from her own visor too, she gripped her back, petting the back of Tera's head.

“You were so brave sweetheart… so brave.” Uzi was proud and terrified and tired so tired, but mostly she was relieved that she was safe, although no doubt traumatized.

“Mama…” Tera whimpered, curling up tight next to Uzi's core and refusing to let go, Uzi took several deep breaths, okay, Doll was gone, and even though she didn't know why. It didn't matter, she just… needed to get up off the floor.

But… her legs weren't listening, it didn't matter what she told them to do she was frozen there, either from shock or fear or even the slight aftershocks of pain or the combination of all of them, she just… didn't have the strength.

There was a banging somewhere, a furious, desperate type of banging that progressively got louder, Uzi cocooned them both in her wings and wrapped her tail around them, becoming a living full body shield.

Then a door opened and light poured in.

“Uzi!” Oh… that was N. He was here, thank Robo-God he was here.

“N!” She popped her head out of her wings just in time for her to get scooped up into his warmth and his scent and everything was suddenly feeling so much better.

“What happened? You disappeared!” He sounded so worried, and on the verge of tears himself, he looked her over, the gash on her shoulder was almost healed but her side was still bleeding freely, she didn't respond, only trembled as she tried her best to melt into him.

“D-doll” She choked out and she felt him flinch as he looked around, she assumed he was using his other vision modes, since she heard the soft beeping of his HUD switching modes.

“She's gone, Tera uh… scared her off.” N helped her stand, her legs were wobbling and she was still struggling to take deep breath, Tera was crying so hard in her arms that she was near silent aside from her harsh sobs and whimpers.

“Tera?” N replied, confused.

“Yeah, I don't know either.”

“Uzi! N!” There were more footsteps as Thad ran into the room, out of breath and venting heavily, his gaze met the family and his eyelights turned worried.

“We're fine…” Uzi said immediately, trying to hide how beat up she was, artificial adrenaline slowly waning, replaced by a dull ache in every joint, every servo and every gasket. The area around her core felt sore…

“Yeah I don't belive you…” Thad replied, immediately looking her over in much the same way N had done, just with far less lingering touches.

“Since when did you become so doting?”

“You're my freind Zi, I'm like… Tera's uncle at this point.” He held something in his hands, something small, purple, and shaped like a bat.

“Hey, I think you dropped this.” He knelt down to where Tera was and brought the bat plushie into her view, she gasped, and breifly let go of her mother to grip it tightly and hug it to her before curling right back up in her previous position.

“Thank you…” Uzi found herself choking up again, causing Thad to back away slightly, he wasn't used to seeing Uzi so… vulnerable.

But in the next second she pulled him into a hug, making his eyelights go hollow for a moment before he returned it, squeezing her tightly.

“No problem.”

It took several minutes for Uzi to calm down enough to begin to try and walk, N steadied her on one side, Thad on the other, Tera resting on N's back, gripping him tightly.

She limped home, ignoring how slowly her wounds were healing compared to normal, ignoring the aches and pains and desire to just collapse into a pile of spare parts and letting herself get near dragged back home.

N and Thad lowered her onto the couch, tye furniture creaking unhappily with the addition of her weight, N turned to Thad, talking about something she couldn't focus enough to listen to.

She'd lost… and the only reason her and Tera weren't dead or used as bait was because Tera surprised Doll… She'd failed to protect her, her one job.

“Hey Thad's going home, do you want me to move you to the bed?” N's voice broke through the thoughts, and she nodded without thinking, he scooped her up in her arms and was off towards the bed, shutting the door behind him with his tail.

He sat Tera down on the edge of the bed first, before he laid his girlfriend down gently, Tera immediately crawled towards them both, refusing to be anywhere but curled up next to them.

Her wounds were healed well enough, neither no longer openly weeping, but her hoodie was still stained with oil, no blood thankfully…

She had no qualms with sleeping like this even through she felt filthy… she was too exhausted to even think about getting up and changing, not to mention the dull ache of her limbs and joints only adding to it.

N wasn't satisfied with that though, and began to change her into her clean pajamas instead, Uzi just let him, she'd never felt more tired in her life. The glitch with the solver draining every ounce of energy she had.

“Wait.” She managed to get out, pointing to her pocket weakly as N was throwing it into the hamper, he dug into the pocket, pulling out the scanner.

“Scan me.” She asked quietly, and he looked at her worry etched on every inch of his face.

“You've been through a lot today… maybe we should wait until you've recov-”

“My solver glitched out during that fight… I need to know what's going on… inside.” She gulped, she really wanted to sleep but… this was more important.

“O-okay, walk me through it.”

So she did, she showed him how to calibrate the scanner and tune it for her systems, how the data it collected on her internal systems would be displayed on the screen, and all he had to do was slowly scan her.

He started with her head, pulling the trigger on the scanner and allowing a little blue light to roll over her, the scanner beeped as a map of her head was taken, first just her silicone, then the metal underneath, then through that.

He had to hold the scanner over each part of her for several minutes to completely map each part, on the side of the tiny screen, her code read out flashed, all bathed in purple and running nominally, as far as he could tell.

“You look fine so far.”

‘Keep going, end on my core… that's the most uncomfortable.”

“Okay.”

He continued the scan, taking note of any abnormalities he could find, her limbs were all normal, no fleshy bits or arrant code, just basic, stock worker limbs, complete with the ball joints and industrial hydraulics running through them.

Her head was… mostly normal, her processors were all neatly wired up, but the scanner had picked up… extra wires? At least that's what they looked like, that made a web over most of her main processing units, connected to bits of organic tissue.

It was her torso that really held everything… off.

The scanner picked up her wings and tail, folded into compartments he knew for a fact normal worker drones didn't have, but that had to normal for Uzi, at least since her transformation, but those weren't the only organic parts.

She had a small, but fully realized set of human lungs, breathing in time with her vents to pump air in and out, her oil tank was artificially enlarged and rerouted into… a very strange organic mass in her midsection. When the scanner broke through the tissue, he realized it was a digestive system.

“Not liking that face your giving.”

“It's fine. Let me finish up” He quickly said, he didn't want to freak her put before the scan was done, despite the weirdness and the fusing of flesh and metal, none of it was damaged or working improperly, so none of it had the capacity to make her sick.

Slightly further down, below her midsection there was another, extremely small ball of… something. It wasn't organic, but it was dense, and the scanner couldn't get a good read on what it was. N kept it at the back of his mind as he raised the scanner again, this time over her core.

“Alright, last little bit, you ready?”

“Mmhm.”

The scanner flashed over her core and she gave an uncomfortable shudder, the scanner beeped incredibly rapidly as it both mapped through her casing and exploded in code readout; which made sense, the core was like a motherboard.

Only… the code it read out looked different from the code running through systems in the rest of her body. For starters, some of it was mixed with gold instead of the ocean of purple code it had read out to him before.

Her core was also beating, like a human heart, it still thrumed normally, but surrounding it was a fleshly mass that beat in a constant rhythm. N blinked, feeling his own core and feeling the soft beating that had always accompanied it. It was like his now.

The more the scanner dug in though, the more golden code it read out, as he slowed down to read it, he realized that he recognized it. After all, it was easy to recognize your own code.

“Uh…” He made a noise of confusion making Uzi look up at him with a brow raised, he blinked before showing her the screen that was still reading put mixed code.

“I- sorry I don't know what this means.” He admitted, but Uzi suddenly grabbed the scanner, eyes growing wide as she looked through the model of her internals and the code read out.

“Holy hell I have lungs! And an actual stomach! That might explain why I've been so hungry…” Honestly? It wasn't as bad as she was expecting it to be, none of her internals had been replaced, just added onto, she held her chest and felt the the rise and fall, something that had started after her transformation that had been so imperceptible she hadn't noticed.

Shen she looked over at the core code and felt everything stop.

That was gold code.

That was gold code in her core.

She wasn't stupid, she knew what that meant, she'd seen it in nursery screenings about a thousand times shown to prospective new parents. It was N's code, mixing with hers.

She was… pregnant.

Next ->

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation n #nuzi #biscuitbites #oil is thicker then blood #tera doorman #oh boy this is a long one #Uzi finds out whats going on #She also has several new questions

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https-lvesick · 4 months ago

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⌕ LYING WEBS, a mark smau

[02] study group goes terribly wrong...

half-written chapter. [1.4k]

You veer away from the classroom, heart racing as you slip out of the school unnoticed.

Thankfully, you’re always prepared—the Silk suit is snug beneath your clothes. With a quick glance to confirm you’re alone, you switch into hero mode, stash your backpack in the bushes, and breathe in the adrenaline.

“Ruby, take me there!” you shout, shooting a web at the nearest rooftop.

Ruby—your trusty AI partner—springs to life. Programmed with nanotech, she keeps your suit flexible and near indestructible. Her link to your phone keeps Ningning, your tech-savvy friend, in the loop.

“Text from Yizhuo. Ningning says: Two hostages confirmed—one worker, one customer.”

Your stomach twists. You pick up speed, swinging across the city as Ruby’s guidance paints a clear route.

You arrive at the ATM vestibule. Police form a tense perimeter while three gang members—two frantic, one keeping watch—cling to their last shred of control. Armed and dangerous.

“Silk!” A cop waves you over. “Two hostages inside. We need them out before we can move.”

“I’ll handle it. Stand by.”

You creep along the walls, silent as a whisper, until you cling to the ceiling, scanning. Two criminals clutch heavy bags of cash, guns trembling in their hands. Sweat beads on their brows—desperation makes them reckless.

But the hostages come first.

“Ruby, distract them.”

The small “S” on your chest detaches, a crimson blur darting through the air. A flare of panic erupts as the gadget sparks and buzzes.

You drop silently behind the CCTV guard. He doesn’t hear you—until it’s too late. A sharp move disarms him, and a swift blow knocks him out cold.

“Stay calm. I’ll get you out,” you whisper, freeing the hostages from their bindings. Their wide, terrified eyes soften with relief.

As you exit the room, fists clenched and ready for a fight, you freeze. The other two criminals lie sprawled on the ground, unconscious. Ruby reattaches with a self-satisfied beep.

You stifle a laugh. Power charge mode. Figures.

The hostages are safe. The day is won. But you can’t bask in the glory—interviews and applause aren’t your style. With a polite “bye,” you launch a web, vanishing into the city skyline, just another student heading back to class.

Mark, Chenle, Haechan, Jisung, and Renjun lounged around a library table, waiting for the girls to arrive. Renjun and Chenle exchanged glances, their project untouched.

“They should be here by now,” Jisung grumbled, checking his watch for the third time.

“Maybe they forgot and went home,” Renjun suggested, shrugging.

“No way. Sweets wouldn’t do that,” Donghyeok replied, pulling out his laptop with practiced ease.

Mark grinned at the nickname. “She’s the one who set the time in the first place,” he added, flipping open his notebook.

“Wait—‘sweets’?” Renjun whispered to Chenle.

“Y/N,” the younger clarified, smirking.

Before the teasing could continue, they heard panting. Heads turned as Yujin stumbled into view, flushed and clearly flustered under the weight of their stares.

“Uh… hi, guys,” she mumbled, sliding into the seat next to Jisung. “Sorry for being late. I had questions for my teacher.”

Jisung froze like a deer in headlights, blinking rapidly as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. His friends watched, eyes gleaming with mischief. Even Renjun, who barely knew him, suppressed a grin.

“Are we waiting on more people?” Yujin asked, adjusting her notes.

“Just mine and Mark’s partner,” Haechan answered, biting his cheek to stop from laughing.

“But don’t wait on us. You two should get started,” Mark encouraged with a kind smile.

As Yujin shifted closer to Jisung, his hands trembled, cheeks burning red. Haechan, trying to contain his laughter, rested his forehead on the table—but his head hit with a loud thud.

The sound echoed through the library, drawing annoyed glares from nearby students.

“Fuck, Ningning!” he hissed, rubbing his forehead while muffled snickering erupted around him.

It was painfully obvious to everyone—except Jisung—that Yujin had a crush on him. The way she leaned in when she spoke, her subtle touches on his arm, and her bright, lingering smiles made it clear. Meanwhile, Jisung was a ball of nerves, too distracted by her presence to focus on their project. His hands fumbled with his pen, and his cheeks flushed with each playful nudge. Neither seemed to notice the stares from the rest of the boys.

“Finally,” Haechan muttered, spotting you and Ningning by the door before Mark even had a chance to turn around.

“Sorry we’re late,” you offered with a sheepish grin, plopping into the seat next to Mark while Ningning sat across from Jisung and Yujin. The tension hit her immediately, her eyes narrowing.

“Hi!” Yujin greeted brightly. You smiled politely, but Ningning’s lips stayed sealed, her eyes like daggers as she rifled through her supplies.

“Why’d it take so long?” Renjun asked cautiously, sensing something off.

“Uh… girl stuff,” you said, sharing a quick glance with Ningning. Your bright smile made Renjun’s ears turn pink, and he shifted uncomfortably.

The group finally settled into work. Projects moved forward, partnerships formed routines, and little habits emerged.

Mark admired how color-coded your notes were, your handwriting neat and meticulous, capturing only key insights. He quietly marveled at your efficiency. Across the table, Jisung discovered Yujin had a habit of chewing a plain old pen cap, reserving her fancier glittery pens for writing. She furrowed her brows intensely when focused, nearly crossing her eyes.

Meanwhile, Renjun’s pen twirled skillfully between his fingers whenever boredom hit, while Chenle smirked at his partner’s dramatic sighs of exasperation over simple tasks.

Ningning, however, wasn’t amused by her own partner, she already knew everything about him. She looked more focused on something else.

Every flirtatious giggle, lingering touch, and shared glance between Jisung and Yujin made her stomach twist into knots. Her gaze darted between the two, her anger simmering like a storm ready to break.

“Calm down,” Haechan whispered, rubbing her back soothingly. “We’re here to study.”

“They aren’t,” she hissed back.

“Then politely tell them to shut up—nicely.”

Her eyes flicked back just in time to see Jisung laugh at something Yujin said, his shoulders relaxed, his nerves gone. She clenched her fists.

“Ning—”

“You do not get to tell me to calm down,” she snapped, her voice low and deadly. “Not when you’re practically jumping Mark’s bones.”

Without waiting for his response, she stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“What’s your problem?” she seethed, glaring at Yujin. “This is a study group, not a flirting session. Your voice is giving me a headache, and I can’t even hear my own thoughts.”

The library fell silent. Students stared. Even the air seemed to still.

“Ningning…” Jisung started, wide-eyed.

“You. Shut up.” She stormed out, leaving everyone stunned. The other students didn’t even had the courage to silent them.

You blinked, sharing a glance with Haechan who was gathering not only his, but her belongings too before following his best friend.

“I’ll be right back,” you muttered, following Ningning’s perfume.

In the empty classroom, Ningning paced like a caged tiger, her fury palpable.

“I hate him. I hate her. I hate how they look at each other, how he’s so oblivious, and how I can’t stop caring!”

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her tightly. “Let it out.”

“She’s so annoying,” Ningning groaned, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

Haechan leaned casually against a table. “We could string him up with your webs,” he teased. “Leave him dangling for a bit.”

“That would teach him,” you agreed, flexing dramatically.

Ningning cracked a smile, her anger ebbing just a bit.

“Hae… do you mind if we work at my house? I don’t think I can face them now. Not only because of the shame, but… you know…” he nods, aknowledging why. But he hesitates a bit, pondering her offer, thinking about the whole reason behind this study group.

“You like him,” you whispered.

“I can’t.”

“You never stopped,” you said softly.

Her eyes shone with unshed tears, but she nodded forcefully. “Take me home?”

Haechan slung her bag over his shoulder. “Of course.”

You watched them leave, your heart heavy with empathy. Back in the library, you slipped into your seat.

“She needed to cool off,” you explained, looking pointedly at Yujin. “But she was right. This is a study group. Let’s focus.”

Mark leaned closer. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Haechan’s got her.”

Silence settled as the group refocused, the weight of unspoken truths hanging thick in the air.

previous ⋆ series masterlist ⋆ next chapter

★ chapter 2 and a conflict already omg im so.... anticlimatica 😞

🏷 @jungaji @spacejip @lyvhie @sinisxtea @jirsungs @polarisjisung @chenlezip @ayukas @leleszn @mystverse @prologue-ae @hibernatinghamster @kj-kts @lovesuhng @haechanahceah67 @jeonghansshitester @hyusun @ncthoe69 @dawntyun @snowyseungs @bunnysoonie @haechansssun @n0hyuck @yvaniile @cheolcam @dreamwithlost @spiderm444rk @nosungluv @chenlesfavorite @nanaxwi @cosmic-marauder @yewshi @morkiee @jensdior @soggyfrogfarts @f6llsun @kittydollzz @nahyuckers @222brainrot @nctrawberries

#nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #mark fanfic #nct smau #nct social media au #mark imagines #aespa x reader #aespa imagines #aespa fanfic

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enchantedbat · 5 months ago

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I would like to think that inhabitants of different planets have physical attributes that differentiate them or it's a power thing.

Bloom could have dragon scales. They could've grown during puberty where she mistakes them as pimples or other skin issues. Maybe they are somewhere embarrassing but hidden. She also could have fiery hair tips which starts with her using her power and thinking she accidentally is burning her hair.

Stella has glowing eyes. That's why she wears a sleeping mask and everybody is thankful that she has her own room - oh yeah, she sleeps with her eyes open. It is a Solarian thing. Brandon, thankfully, can sleep despite the light.

Actually, she could have them both during day and night considering her parents are sun and moon connected.

Layla could have webbed fingers or toes. Or she has scales. Perhaps on her legs due to her connection to the mermaids (Tressa is her cousin after all.)

Without her being a mermaid instantly, she should have the full package: scales, webbed fingers/toes, gills. They activate underwater.

Flora could have flowers as freckles, vines growing in her hair or something aesthetic like that. It could be something 'life producing' too. Her breath makes pollen or her blood grows plants, so all her wounds have flowers sprouting from them (Bloom would freak out seeing it the first time and try to clean Flora's wounds who would push her away because she can't heal properly without these plants).

Okay, first: Tecna has no belly button or no belly button like the girls. I see them having futuristic methods to have children without the women having to endure anything that will harm their body or mental health. With the help of both magic and technology, they have birthing chambers.

Additionally, Tecna could have cyber tech like for example Cyberpunk characters have them. You need glasses? Not on Zenith. Instead you like a lens built in? I hope it makes sense. Their bodies might have technology installed from the start of life. Something to protect her spin or limbs, so she can't break her bones that easily.

Of course, for Musa and people of Melody, it would make sense if it is something voice connected. It may not be visible to others. It helps them reach high or deep notes. Maybe like a voice modulator?

Besides, we saw how they communicated through sound waves.

I just used the Winx as example, so quick reminder that Helia would have the same thing as Flora and Nabu as Layla.

#Winx club #I wrote most of it at 3 am #Winx #winx club headcanons #winx stella #winx musa #winx aisha #winx flora #winx layla #winx tecna #winx bloom #winx shitposting

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shehatescoffee · 4 months ago

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another drabble idea from ur pookie

jealous itafushi going either way 😁

Yuuji is a bit of a hypocrite.

He smiles a lot. At everyone. Actually, it's rare that he can't find a reason to smile. He thinks smiling makes everyone feel at least a little better, so why wouldn't he smile whenever he can?

Megumi isn't like Yuuji, because Megumi doesn't smile, at least not in public. Well, usually he doesn't smile.

He's smiling right now, though, and it's sort of a shock to Yuuji's system.

It's not like Yuuji can fault him for it. They just saved this guy from getting torn in half by a curse that looked like what would happen if a spider and a centipede had a baby, so it's only natural that Megumi is trying to comfort him with his kind, soft smile, and it looks like it's working by the way the man pulls Megumi into a crushing hug while blabbering endless "thank you"s.

But, like he said, he's a hypocrite, and it hurts just a little to see that wondrous, rare smile directed toward anyone except him. Maybe it's wrong that Yuuji's built it up in his head that he's the only one who can elicit a smile from Megumi. Maybe that's selfish, and maybe a better boyfriend would want their partner smiling all the time.

But damn it, Yuuji can and will smile enough for the both of them. He knows this part of the job is hard for Megumi, and that's why he usually offers to console the victims while they wait for EMS or an Assistant Manager. Today, however, he'd had to wait until the sticky web the curse used to stick him to a wall dissolved enough to rip through while Megumi and his shikigami got the civilians to safety.

Finally free of the vile substance, he speedwalks over toward his boyfriend and the man. Just as they break from their hug, Yuuji smoothly slides his arm around Megumi's waist and tugs him against his side, beaming at the victim with the brightest smile he can muster (and hoping his irritation isn't too obvious). "Hey! Glad to see you're okay, dude!"

Megumi yelps in surprise, but he turns his lingering smile toward Yuuji as he begins to pick off lingering threads of webbing with nimble fingers. "He was just thanking us for getting here so quick, since we managed to stop the curse before there was much property damage," Megumi explains, voice sounding drained from the exertion of their battle despite the smile on his face. Yuuji's grip tightens on his hip.

In front of them, the man smiles and nods insistently. "Yes, exactly! Thank you both so much!" He turns to Megumi. "You especially, the frogs were a little gross but I'm so thankful you saved me."

Grin faltering ever so slightly, Yuuji leans forward a bit. "No problem, man! Try not to get cursed again, all right? Have a good day!"

The man seems a little shocked as they abruptly exit the building, Yuuji guiding Megumi by his hand, but Yuuji doesn't notice nor care.

When they're finally in the backseat of the car on the way back to Jujutsu Tech, Megumi rolls his eyes obviously, but he doesn't chastize Yuuji, which Yuuji takes as a win. Especially when the eye roll bleeds into a shy smile and a kiss on the cheek.

So, maybe he's a bit of a hypocrite, but he doesn't really care to change that.

#again not even close to 100 words #whoops #ask phlarry #itafushi #itafushi fanfic #itafushi drabble #jjk drabbles #jjk #jjk fanfic #jealous yuuji

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wintercarnage · 4 months ago

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☥ ˖ִ ࣪ 🦇 crush(ed).　⠀p. parker & t. stark . . .

( ♱ ) … Headaches lead to sleeping in class leads to aromantic panic.

777 。。masterlist

In the school of love (school of love)

I was all mixed up (all mixed up)

I didn't get it, get it, get it, yeah

I wasn't quick to pick it up

— The Knack, Mother Mother

—

Peter wakes up to bright sun on his face and a pounding in his head. He immediately draws his blanket up over his head. The darkness is refreshing, but it doesn’t stop the consistent banging of a hammer against his skull. He squeezes his eyes shut tight. It makes his head hurt a little worse and he quickly reopens them.

It’s then that he realizes he has school. Today is Wednesday, not Saturday, and he does in fact need to get up and get dressed.

He resolves the sunlight problem with a quick snap of curtains being shut by way of his web shooters (grabbed from inside his nightstand—he really needs a better hiding spot for them). And then the next problem: getting up and ready without dying. Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but Peter feels like he’s earned it. He’s tired. He’s tired and his head hurts and the last thing he wants is to go to school.

He gets up anyway.

—

Half an hour later—headache worsening into a migraine, stomach turning with nausea, eyes heavy with sleep—Peter enters Midtown Science and Tech. The walk to his locker has never been a particular issue before, but now, with the blinding lights sending knives into his head, he feels like crawling into his locker and crying.

“You alright, man?” Peter turns to see Ned behind him. He pulls out the last of his books and closes the metal door—carefully, because the slamming makes his head hurt worse.

“Yeah, just—” Peter gestures vaguely towards his head. “Headache.”

“Ah.” Ned nods in understanding and sympathy. “MJ texted and said she’s waiting by the library for us. She’ll probably have something you can take.”

MJ does, in fact, have Tylenol. Peter pops two pills into his mouth and swallows it with a swig of water before he and MJ split from Ned to head to first period.

Their assignment for this hour has been stretched over two days, and Peter finished yesterday, so he takes the time to sleep while MJ works quietly beside him. He rests his head on his folded arms and scoots over in his chair until he can be pressed against MJ’s side. To his knowledge, he’s the only one she allows to do this. She’s never been the biggest fan of physical touch.

The school is usually cold, but MJ is warm—something Peter thinks most people wouldn’t expect—so he quickly sinks into dreamland.

MJ wakes him just before the end of class some thirty minutes later. He packs up his stuff with a yawn and heads for the door as the bell screeches. Just before he can leave, he’s roughly shouldered to the side.

“That your girlfriend, Parker?” Peter’s not really sure who this guy is—just someone in his grade and on the basketball team. No one that’s really ever talked to or bothered him before. The words though, the question, simultaneously make anxiety and anger curl together in his stomach and chest. He’s not interested in getting hit, though, so he just weakly laughs it off.

“Nah, not my girlfriend.”

“Ah, too bad. Keep tryin’, Parker, you’ll get her!”

Oh.

That’s…

Peter’s not really sure how he feels about that. This guy, who’s left the classroom and has joined up with his friends—laughing and joking loudly down the hall—assumes that he wants MJ to be his girlfriend. And Peter’s never really thought about it before. Is that something he wants? Maybe deep in his subconscious…No, shut up, Parker. Peter shakes his head and quickly leaves the room. He can think about that later—or not at all—because right now he needs to get to class, lest he be late.

Peter doesn’t fall asleep in his next class, though he gets awfully close, continuously nodding off and having Ned prod him awake. His headache’s let up enough to let him be comfortable, but he’s still exhausted under it. His next class, alone and with Flash’s torment, Peter doesn’t fall asleep either. It probably shouldn’t be his goal to fall asleep—and he normally wouldn’t—but he’s so exhausted it’s all he can think about.

Lunch comes next, with Ned and MJ both. Peter eats as quickly as he can so that he can curl up to sleep, again tucked against MJ’s side. He’s still thinking about that guy’s comment from this morning, but his tiredness overtakes his concern for it.

“Dude, what’s up with you?” Ned asks. “Did you stay up too late doing you know what?”

“Way to make it sound weird, Ned,” Peter mutters. “Not really? I went to bed at, like, midnight.”

“Midnight is technically late,” MJ remarks. She’s doodling in her sketchbook, though to Peter’s appreciation she hasn’t moved her left arm, which he’s currently leaning against.

“Not for Spider-Man,” Ned responds. Peter laughs quietly, but he can feel his attention slipping. He’s tired. They only have maybe fifteen minutes before Decathlon, which he definitely can’t sleep through. He tucks his head into his arms and sleeps. Again.

—

By the time he gets to PE, the last class of the day, Peter is ready to brain someone with a basketball. Since lunch, everyone has been asking if he and MJ are dating. Not only does the thought make him squirmy and anxious, but also just angry. Everyone at this school just assumes everything. It’s probably not that serious, if he were to really think about it, but it’s still annoying.

Word has somehow—cough, basketball guy, cough—gotten around that he fell asleep on MJ in Calculus, too. Generally, Peter is tired and his headache has come back full force and really, the only thing he cares about at the moment is that he gets to go to SI after school. More than anything, he wishes he were just in the lab with Tony, working on their projects side by side.

When the final bell of the day rings, Peter bolts out of the building. He’s fully expecting to grab the subway to the tower, but he pulls up short when he sees Happy’s car parked outside. He’s not sure if this is better or worse; Happy doesn’t know, and Peter’s not sure he would understand even if he did. No one really understands, much as they might try.

Peter climbs into the back of the car, a little confused but mostly unable to think past the pounding ache of his head.

“Hey, kid. Put your bag on the floor—trying to minimize the amount of teenage germs on my upholstery,” Happy greets him.

“Hey,” Peter responds weakly. “Got any ibuprofen?”

Happy raises an eyebrow as he backs out of his parking spot. “Not on me. Why? Did you get injured fighting as Spider-Man again?”

Peter sighs and buckles his seat belt. “No, just got a bad headache. I took some Tylenol this morning already, around eight-thirty. It wore off pretty quick.”

“Yeah, no doubt. With your metabolism you need at least triple the dose of everything,” Happy snorts.

Peter curls up in his seat and rests his head back. He’s really tired, too—doesn’t know if going to the lab is a good idea. He can probably convince Tony to just order some food and watch a movie instead. Oh, he’ll be questioned though. Peter loves the lab, always has, and Tony will ask him what’s up if he doesn’t want to go and explaining his whole mess about everyone thinking he’s dating MJ and how he’s so exhausted and angry all the time because he’s probably depressed and he really just needs to—

“Breathe,” Happy calls back. “You’re not having a panic attack in my car. Save it for when Tony’s around—god knows he can pull you out of those like no one else.”

By the time Peter’s managed to calm himself, they’re pulling up to SI and he’s being dropped off at the door.

Ninety-three stories up, Peter finds Tony in the open kitchen. He’s making pancakes. Literal stacks of chocolate chip pancakes. When Peter cautiously drops his bag next to the breakfast bar, Tony turns around.

“Hey, kid,” he says. “Happy said you weren’t feeling well?”

“Uh, yeah,” Peter manages. He slides into a stool. “Headache.”

“Well, might not make your head feel any better physically, but pancakes are good for the heart.”

“Scientifically, that’s wholly inaccurate. Emotionally…I could definitely use some pancakes, yeah.”

Tony frowns as he plates another pancake. There has to be at least ten of them now. “Something happen at school?”

Peter groans and drags his hands down his face. “I hate teenagers. All of them. Every last one. Minus two.”

“Minus three,” Tony corrects absently. “You have to include yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, minus three. Point is, they all suck and I hate them. They all like to make assumptions about stuff they know nothing about and don’t believe you when you tell them they’re wrong! It’s like, hey, this is my life, I think I know better than you! And if they believe I’m lying because I don’t want them to know then—then—well, that’s just stupid!” Peter huffs out a breath and rests his folded arms on the counter, then plops his head on top of them.

Tony, finally, turns off the burner and sets down his spatula. He begins splitting the pancakes—more for Peter, less for himself—onto two plates as he talks. “Well, lots of teenagers are like that. Whatever they believe is the truth and no one’s opinion changes that.”

Peter rolls his eyes and accepts his plate as it’s handed to him. “Well, they shouldn’t. Unless they have good reason, which none of them do! And now it’s just—”

Making him an anxious mess. Making him question every aspect of his identity that he’s worked so hard to figure out. Making him want to throw up. Making him scared that he’s wrong. Making him afraid of leading MJ on. Making him afraid that they’re right.

“—annoying. I don’t like it.”

“Can I ask what they’re assuming? Or is that classified, teen-only information?” Tony asks. He sits on the stool across from Peter with a raised eyebrow. Peter viciously impales a pancake with his fork as he thinks about it. It’s not like Mr. Stark doesn’t know.

“Everyone thinks me and MJ are dating,” Peter admits quietly. He doesn’t look up as he says it; spreads a thick layer of butter across his pancakes instead.

“And that bothers you.” It’s not a question, but Peter nods his assent. “You know why they think that?”

Peter eats an entire two pancakes before he feels brave enough to respond. A lot of adults share the same opinions on things like this—cuddling and sleeping beside someone are both markers of romance or romantic interest. Peter really doesn’t think he can handle another insinuation that he’s in love with MJ. (He’s scared it might be true if they keep saying it.) “I fell asleep, like, on her? today. Twice. First period and lunch. I was only sitting next to her, kind of against her side? And now everyone thinks we’re dating or that we—or just me—are totally in love.”

“Have you talked to her about that?”

Peter looks up, finally, to see Tony watching him with gentle concern in his eyes. Something in his heart cracks, oozing mess into his soul.

“I don’t want to. I really, really don’t—” Peter’s voice cracks. To his utter mortification, he starts to cry. Tony’s around the counter and beside him in an instant, wrapping Peter in his arms and pulling him close to his chest.

“Hey, hey, bambino, it’s okay,” he whispers into Peter’s hair.

“I just—I was so sure,” Peter blubbers. “And now everyone keeps saying it and I’m so scared that they’re right! What if they are? What if I’m not aromantic like I thought? What if, this whole time, I’ve been in love with her subconsciously? Or if I don’t like her but she likes me and thinks everything I’ve been doing is romantic and I’m leading her on and she hates me—”

“Woah, slow down. Just breathe for a second.”

Setting it to the rhythm of Tony’s inhales, Peter slows his breathing down. They keep breathing together until Peter feels a little less shaky, more secure. He hadn’t been paying attention, but his headache had lightened—it’s obvious now, because his head has started hurting again. The constant off-again-on-again pain keeps Peter always on his toes.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“My head hurts,” Peter mumbles, his face pressed to Tony’s chest. “And the pancakes are getting cold.”

Tony laughs and Peter feels a little better. “Microwaves exist. And I’ll get you some ibuprofen, granted it’s been long enough since you took anything last.”

Tony promises a sort of solution, or next step, to be discussed after they get resettled. Peter gets his medicine and they move to the couch, eating pancakes and watching a movie at four pm.

“I don’t want to push her away,” Peter says, limply pushing cut-up pancake bits around his plate. “And I know it’ll happen because it did way back when I was in sixth grade. I had a best friend, everyone thought we were dating, I got uncomfortable and ran.”

“Tell them to fuck off,” Tony suggests. He smiles when Peter mumbles that he would but he can’t because he doesn’t want to be sent to the office. “You do need to talk to her, Pete. No real way around that.”

Peter tears a pancake in half. “I don’t want to.”

Peter catches the moment it registers with Tony. The tiniest hitch of breath, a tense and relax. A comforting hand placed on Peter’s shoulder.

“She doesn’t know,” he says softly. Peter lets out a slow, controlled breath, his shoulders slumping.

“No,” he confirms. “She doesn’t know. The only people who do are you and Ned. May doesn’t even know. I don’t think she’ll take it bad—either of them. It’s just…scary. Pretending you are is a lot harder than pretending you’re not.”

Peter can almost taste Mr. Stark’s surprise. The way he must be running over a million things in his head, trying to understand why Peter’s told him instead of the aunt that’s raised him. He can also feel the moment it’s shaken off, like there are more important things to be discussed.

“I’m not saying come out to anyone you’re not ready to,” Tony begins. “But I would try asking her how she feels first. If she thinks it’s all total shit, then you can agree and be done with it. If she admits feelings, you can gently explain that you’re not interested in that kind of relationship with her.”

“Or, I can tell her that everyone is stressing me out and I don’t like her like that and that if she does I don’t think we can still be friends.”

“Kid, I don’t mean to be that guy, but isn’t that exactly what you were just afraid was gonna happen? You pushing her away?”

Peter sighs and gestures aimlessly with his hands, trying to form the words he needs to explain this. “It’s like…I don’t want to push her away if she’s done nothing wrong. But, for some reason, my head classifies liking me romantically as ‘doing something wrong.’ And then it feels like they should be slowly ignored and removed from my life.”

Tony blinks, just staring at Peter for a long moment. “You are way over complicating this.”

“Say the king of complication,” Peter grumbles.

“Send her a text,” Tony says, nudging Peter’s arm. “You’ve got her number. Just say ‘How do you feel about the rumor that we’re dating.’ Simple and straight to the point.”

Peter pulls his phone out and gets all the way to him and MJ’s text thread before: “Mr. Stark, I’m scared,” Peter complains, dropping his arms back to his lap, phone clutched tightly between his fingers.

“You want me to send it?”

“No,” Peter shrieks, falling back with his phone hidden against his chest. “Absolutely not.”

“You send the text and I’ll get whatever you want for dinner,” Tony offers.

As Peter types out the text, he says, “I want pizza.”

He presses send, and the world doesn’t end.

His heart rate spikes a little, though.

—

Three hours later, in the middle of eating pizza and discussing new web solution formulas, Peter’s phone dings. He shoots a panicked look at Tony, who only encourages him to check the message.

emjay: i’m a lesbian

emjay: do with that what you will

emjay: but tell anyone from school and you’re dead

beter: oh thank god

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