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#mj makes dice
dicedragonjo · 1 year
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'Box of Chocolates'
Polished, painted gold, inedible. Y'all are DEFINITELY not allowed to eat these. Do NOT put these in your mouths.
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oohbuggypie · 3 days
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our life is all we have to live ! our love is all we have to give !
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HEHEE FINISHED IT 🩷 cardstock cut outs of Heike and Disco having a blast out on the dance floor in their funky fits !
unglued / singular versions below bcuz Disco's pose gets obscured by their overlap + some fun facts 🩷
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- this idea was inspired by the fact that - though u probably can't tell due to the poor quality of the product lol - i found some pearl and glitter crayons and HAD to buy so i could try them out with two of the sparkliest and shining characters i love 🩷
- the entire piece is made of cardstock that's been cut out, colored, shaped, and coated with glitter (the dance floor and the disco ball) !
- Disco's outfit is my fairly modest take on classic 70's male fashion - high waisted slacks and a buttoned down button up shirt ! Heike's was more of a hybrid creation based off of an outfit worn by the icon, Cher, and some sparkly glitter jumpsuit i saw on Pinterest lol
THIS WAS SO MUCH FUNN srry not srry for talking a bunch after the art i have a sickness called Loving To Share The Process And Fun Facts About It Too ☹️ anyway i love this and i hope yall do too 🩷
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artificer-dice · 7 months
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Master making progress is going well! The second one (the green minecraft font) actually turned out well enough I would be able to use it as a master if I had spent a bit more time carefully cleaning it up! Which is progress! I'm still managing to get dimensional accuracy up to like 3/10 of a millimeter which is always nice!
Also the design I currently have going for test #3 under the cut, as well as a small explanation as to what I'm doing to make these.
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This might not make sense if you've seen how dice and dice molds are normally made, but these are the actual masters being used to.. well, make master dice. I wanted to try to make a design that challenged the limits of the printer and I would say that this level of detail is pretty much the limit!
This was 1pt lines used to scale, which is really tiny.
Also the faces are painted for two reasons: to check how the faces turned out and, more importantly, to help reduce the silicone that seeps into the pieces. I wasn't the neatest with the application which would be why some look like they have imperfections when they really don't. That's just paint.
Each of these faces result in a small individual mold that I can insert into a larger base mold, which means I can print every face flat for the best detail I can get and so I don't have to use a ton of silicone to make a mold that is usually used once. I've been mixing up 10ml and having extra for these as opposed to the usual 40-50ml of silicone it takes to make a normal mold.
This does mean that as early as next week, I can start the process for a different die, which I'm planning on going for a 30mm d20, or the "chonk" size since they should be easier to do than a 20mm one (the standard size), and it won't take as much material to work out the details like a 50mm oversized one would.
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artificer-dice-mj · 7 months
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The first time something works, it's a fluke.
The second time something works, it's a coincidence.
The third time it works, it actually works.
At least, this is the philosophy I use when making prototypes for things.
I finally reached the fluke stage of the prototyping process and just started the second test. I have a bit of cleaning up to do on it, but I have not been this confident about any of the other iterations and if I get consistent enough results, I can actually move on to other dice shapes! (As much as I just love making a ton of d6s, I just want to be able to move on to the others too)
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angel-of-the-moons · 6 months
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Fun Before (Diaper) Duty
Peter B Parker x Wife!Reader
TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Sex, grinding, dry humping, pegging, sex toys, PiV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, talks of pregnancy, trying for a baby, cumming inside with the intent to make said baby, Peter being a whining mess , Dom(?)!Reader, Sub!Peter, (sort of?) no refractory period, drain this mans dryyyy
MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME
A/N: This is an AU of sorts where MJ doesn't exist and the Reader is Peter's Wife. Takes places after the first movie (Obvi). It's just a thing that's been bouncing around in my head and I need to get the brainworm out!!!
(And as usual header does not indicate reader's race)
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It had been some time since you guys ran into your... "problems."
It had been some time since he came home after apparently interacting with someone who changed his mind on what you talked about.
Kids.
Babies.
Having them.
He explained in great detail what happened, how Miles in particular had just... changed him. Woke him up inside, made his inner Papa Bear come out.
It made him realize he did want kids.
And if realizing he actually did want kids was something, Peter B Parker really enjoyed the task of making said kids.
The two of you indulged in it as often as possible, twining together in bed, or on the couch, in the shower, in the kitchen... Once when you met him on a rooftop to bring him some dinner when you were in the area.
Yeah, Peter wasn't much of the "public sex" type, the poor guy. The moment he came inside you he was a blubbering--still hard--mess and he web-slung you two home to make love to you properly. I.e he basically let you pin him to the couch and ride him until he couldn't feel his legs.
Even that Spider-Man stamina had its limits.
More often than not he was out most nights doing his Spider-Man routine, fighting crime, saving people... Even picking up an extra part-time job for some extra cash.
"Y'know, babies are expensive!" Peter had laughed with you over some crappy Chinese takeout.
"I know, but honey..." You sighed, finishing off your noodles nd dropping the chopsticks in the paper container.
"My job pays well, and I even negotiated with my boss so I can work from home from now on. I'll only need to go into the office for meetings or something important, so taking care of a baby is no problem. Our bills are covered, and... You got your hero gig. I don't want you to overwork yourself, Peter."
"Babe." Peter smiled at you sweetly. That same, charmingly goofy smile as he turned to face you on the couch.
"I just wanna make sure we have all our bases covered. I love you, and I wanna make sure our baby has everything they're gonna need."
"C'mon, Tiger." You smiled sweetly at him. "You already work your ass off being a superhero. And we're trying to have a baby, and once that baby is here we're both going to have our hands full."
He brought your knuckles to his lips to give them a kiss. "Which is exactly why I want the extra cash. I want to make sure you two have everything you deserve."
You smile and lean in, brushing your nose against his affectionately.
"I already got you, dummy."
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Two more months passed.
Two more months.
Months of you not getting pregnant yet. Neither of you knew what the problem was, you planned meticulously, tracked your ovulation and menstrual cycles... Hell, you even drank some kind of herbal tea that was supposed to boost fertility. But... No dice.
Your doctor told you it wasn't uncommon, that some people just don't get pregnant on the first few tries.
The difference was that you and Peter tried more than "the first few tries".
It was frustrating, but you held out hope.
You two would be parents. You would.
Peter had even told you he was hoping for a little girl.
He was going to name her Mayday.
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Tonight, you had just gotten out of the shower after getting back from the gym. You were sweaty and gross and ugh, you really needed it after staring at spreadsheets all day.
Your hair was a dripping mess, but you decided to let it air dry.
You put on one of Peter's button up shirts and at the last second, decided to wear the laciest panties you owned and couldn't help but grin.
It would be a nice surprise for Peter when he got home.
After all, what husband wouldn't wanna come home to their wife wearing nothing but one of their shirts and a pair of lacy panties?
And bingo! You were right.
You had your back to him as you downed your glass of juice when he came through the door.
"Hey, Babycakes!" Peter whistled as he locked the door behind him again. "I brought some--"
You heard whatever bags he had in his hands drop, along with his keys.
"....Well." He said, clearing his throat as you turned around, smiling at him slyly.
"Well?" You purr, leaning on the wall.
"I feel a tad overdressed." He mumbled, a blush on his cheeks as he looked down at himself.
"Peter B Parker, is that a blush I see in your cheeks?" You giggle.
"I, uh, uhm--" Peter coughed awkwardly; you could see his Adams apple bob in effort as he swallowed an imaginary lump. Then, he held the bag up.
"Got dinner from the Greek restaurant down the street?"
You smile and shake your head, taking the bag from him as you walk to the couch, opening the plastic containers to see what dinner your wonderful husband brought home for the two of you.
You decide to give Peter mercy, for now, as his shoulders sag and he pulls off his trenchcoat, hanging it on the peg, revealing the Spider-Man suit along with the sweatpants he was wearing.
His choice in hero outfits lately had you endeared to him even more, with his quirky nature.
"Uh, I'm... I'm gonna change, m'kay?" He says, a lopsided smirk on his face, cheeks still just a bit pink.
"Mhmmm." You wink at him as he walks by.
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You finished chowing down on your gyro with a happy hum, wiggling in place as the two of you watch whatever dumb cop show happened to be on.
You snuggled under Peter's arm as he licked his fingers clean of the remnants of his food and rubbed his cheek on the top of your head.
"How was patrol tonight?" You asked him softly.
"Oh, boring, actually. Like, a few purse snatchers but thankfully nothing where anyone got hurt." Peter told you.
"Well that's good, maybe supervillains are deciding to take a vacation for a bit?" You muse playfully.
"Oh, god, that would be amazing." Peter groaned, dropping his head back on the cushions of the couch.
"They go to the annual Villains' Club and are like "You know what? Let's all take a trip to Fiji! Give Spider-Man a break!"
You giggle and kiss his jaw, the stubble of his shadow tickling your lips.
"Yes, I concur." You sigh. "That would be amazing."
There's a pregnant pause in the air before you broke it.
"Though, given that we're trying to have a baby... Id prefer it if all your patrols ended this way. With you safe."
"I know, babe." Peter replies quietly.
"I promise I'll be careful."
You smiles and turned your head into his neck, breathing in every scent that is Peter.
You could feel his body tense when you did that,, see that Adams apple bobbing again as he kept his eyes focused directly on the tv, trying to ignore how your fingers slowly crept up under his tank top slowly; nails tickling the soft skin of his abdomen.
You slipped your fingers down, just barely past the waistband of his pj's and his breath stutters.
He wasn't wearing boxers. Perfect. Makes it that much easier.
"Babe--" Peter said, his voice coming out shaky.
"Hmm?" You asked innocently, ever so slowly slipping your hands down further, gliding through the well-trimmed hairs and stopping just above his rapidly hardening dick.
"You--" He groaned, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.
"Me.... What?" You sigh, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling the half-hard mass of silky flesh twitch and come to life in your hand
You gave a languid stroke upwards, and back down.
Up, and down.
Up, and down... Working him up to full mast as his breathing increased and a small whimper came from his lips.
"Hey, Pete." You grinned, licking over the thumping pulse in his neck.
"Y-yeah?" He whined.
"Wanna see something you're gonna like?" You asked him, your tone breathy.
"Yes. God, yes--" He gasped, as your thumb swirled over the weeping tip of his dick.
You squeeze his cock again as he says that, just barely above painful.
"Peter..." You scold. "What do you say?"
"Yes, ma'am." He whimpered out quickly, his hands gripping the cushions, knuckles turning white as he grits his teeth.
"That's a good Tiger." You purr, pulling your hand from his pants and swinging yourself over so you were straddling his thighs.
"Eyes open, baby." You cooed, urging him to tip his head so he could stare at you, a little slack-jawed as you slowly undo the buttons of the shirt you wore.
God, that pitiful look he'd get on his face when he was horny always got you going.
When you slipped the last buttons out, you pulled the edges of the shirt open, showing your tits off to him with a smirk.
His gorgeous eyes of course locked in on your breasts first, your pebbling nipples eagerly awaiting touch; but his gaze slipped lower, raking all the way down your body until he saw the underwear you were wearing.
It left very, very little to the imagination. And it did a very, very poor job of concealing how wet you were getting; your slick already seeping through and leaving a dark spot on the dark gray pj's he wore.
You watched his hands twitch and arms move; and instantly you frowned.
"Peter." You say, reaching out and gripping his face with your hand, squishing his cheeks.
"Did I say you could touch me?"
He made a soft noise and dropped his arms.
"No. Keep em up." You order, dragging the tank top he wore slowly up his torso.
He obediently lifted his arms up so you could pull the offending piece of clothing off; and you smiled with satisfaction.
"Good boy." You told him, leaning forward to kiss his lips.
The touch was soft, feather light with the ghost of a promise, one that his mouth chased as you pulled away from him.
He made a weak groan, and you giggle.
"Keep your hands on the back of the couch, you're not allowed to move em until I say so. Got it, baby?"
Peter nodded, doing as he was told and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and nodding.
"Peter..."
"Yes ma'am." He whispered out.
You smile at him again as your hands greedily paw at him, sliding down his chest and to his belly, softening and round.
"Babe..." Peter groaned, looking off to the side in embarrassment.
It was no secret between you two that he was self conscious of the pooch in his belly, about the softness there. It was why he decided to wear pants over his suit; he didn't like it being on display for everyone.
"Hush," You said to him, gripping softly at his belly, kneading the skin underneath your soft fingers.
"You're adorable. I love your belly. And think of it this way, you've already got a dad bod." You leaned in just a bit, enough to take one of his nipples into your mouth and tugging on it with your teeth.
The sound he made went into your ears and straight to your cunt.
"..And you look good with a dad bod." You assured him with every ounce of love and acceptance you could vocalize.
He shuddered and let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he let you toy with him.
"Now, let's have a bit of fun, okay?" You sighed, positioning yourself so that the bulge in his pants could press tightly against the sopping fabric of your panties, your throbbing clit pressing hard into it.
You were polite and gave Peter a second to breathe, checking to see if his hands were still where you told him to keep them.
They were, and Peter had his head leaned back so you could see the jumping vein in his neck.
You bit your lip and slowly started to grind on him, letting out a soft groan at the friction, each drag of your hips against his throbbing cock smearing your juices along his clothes length, a dark patch starting to form.
God, he looked so utterly fucked already that your mind felt dizzy with how delicious he was sounding.
Soft whimpers and gasps came from Peter as he lifted his hips to meet yours.
You were tempted to scold him, but then again, he was being a good boy.
You plant your hands on his chest, keeping him pressed into the cushions as you continued to hump against his twitching cock, the signs of his precum already soaking through the fabric to join the wet spot of your own slick.
The way he was being so fucking good for you, the sounds he was making, and the little licks of flames that jolted up with each stroke already had you close to wanting to cum. But you held off, instead doubling down, sliding your hips on his even faster than before, mewling softly as he desperately ruts up into you, his jaw clenched so tight you were worried he would crack the bone.
"You're being so good, Tiger." You purr, licking up from his collarbone, to the soft spot on his neck.
You bit down and sucked hard, scratching your nails down his chest as you kept grinding your soaking pussy against him.
You did that four more times, leaving beautiful red-purple marks on his neck.
You feel his hips start to stutter against yours, a deep, heavy groan tearing through his throat.
"You gonna cum for me, baby?" You moan softly.
"Y-yeah." He whined.
"Mmm~" You pull away from him, and he makes a frustrated cry, before going silent as he watched you pull his pants down just enough to free his cock.
His jaw slacks as he watched you pull your panties to the side, and slowly spear yourself on him.
You were so wet and fucking tight, he almost came right there.
You press a finger to his lips as he moaned your name.
"You can cum, but only after me. Got it?"
"Yes ma'am..." He whines.
"Good. Good." You smiled, tapping his lips with your fingers.
"Open."
Peter stares at you, his eyes glazed and pupils dilated as his lips parted, letting you slip your digits in so he could lick around them, sucking them softly and wetting them with his saliva.
You pull them free with a wet pop and bring them down to your clit, using the mix of his spit and your slick to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves.
The way his cock twitched inside of you, the way he struggled so hard to keep still while you used your hand to pleasure yourself while his cock was seated fully into you... God, it was bliss.
"Ah... O-Okay, Tiger." You panted. "Y-you can move. Fuck..."
Peter didn't need another word from you; he began snapping his hips up into yours with a whimper, chasing the orgasm that was a hairs breadth away.
And all at once it was like the world came crashing down. Your orgasm ripped through you and you gushed on Peter's cock, your fingers still working at your clit while he fucked into you, a shaky moan coming from him as he emptied himself into you, snapping his hips up into yours almost mindlessly as the both of you rode out your release.
When the two of you stopped moving, you slowly leaned forward, resting your head on his shoulder, breathing heavily as you tried to control your leaping heart rate.
You felt Peter slip his arms around you and tug you close, and a smirk played on your lips.
"Did I say you could touch me?" You tease.
"No ma'am." Peter grinned.
"Eh, I'll let it slide. This time." You giggle, leaning back to look at him.
God that smile on his face always made your heart flop.
And of course... Another idea came into your mind, biting your lip as you felt his dick twitching inside you.
"Hey, Pete..." You hummed, tracing invisible lines on his chest.
"Yeah?" He asked you.
"Wanna take this to the bedroom? I wanna play a bit more."
Peter looked like he swallowed his tongue right there on the couch.
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Fuck, you loved it when you did this.
You loved the sounds he made, how he'd grip at the sheets and how he'd rock his hips back to meet the thrusts of yours, spearing himself open on the ridged silicone cock you were fucking him with.
"Good boy." You murmured, gripping his ass tight and spreading his cheeks as you glide the toy in and out, in and out.
He wasn't allowed to jerk himself off as you fucked him; that was always the rule.
"You're being quiet again, baby." You cooed, kneading his cheeks with your fingers.
He let out a groan, but it wasn't enough for you.
You wanted more.
And you were going to take more.
You pulled out, almost entirely, watching the rim of muscles clench and try to drag your strap back in.
You hold like that for a minute before Peter makes a needy whine; and the moment he does you slam your hips as hard as you can into him, rocking him forward and making him moan like a whore.
You decided to keep that pace, arching your hips up to reach every spot you memorized inside of him, leaning forward and pressing your palm into the curve of his spine, forcing him down into the bed.
"Thaaaaat's it... that's it." You hissed, biting your lip.
"Gonna cum already?" You teased playfully.
"Y-yes--" He breathed.
You pulled away a bit and bring your hand down on him, slapping his ass, the sound of skin resounding through your bedroom.
"Ah-ah. What do you say?" You say, your tone full of disappointment.
"Yes, ma'am!" He whined loudly, arching back into you as you roughly fucked into him.
"Good boy..." You repeated.
You slid your hand up his spine slowly, earning a pathetic gasp and whimper from him, watching as he ripped at the sheets so hard that the edges came off the corners of your bed; hot ropes of white cum shooting out and staining the silky black sheets as you fucked him.
You pulled out, and unbuckled the harness from around your hips and thighs, tossing the strap-on onto the floor.
Eh, you'd deal with it when you were done.
You laid on your side next to him, smiling sweetly.
"You good, baby?" You asked him softly.
"Agh... Yeah. Shit." Peter mumbled into the pillow.
You grinned and kissed his knuckles as he released his grip on your sheets.
He lifted his gaze and kissed you before you had a chance to react, his tongue pressing into your mouth and tugging at yours, hungry and needy.
He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your mouths and a glint in his eye.
"Babe, can I..."
"Of course, Tiger." You grinned as he climbed on top of you, gliding his cock through your slick folds.
"We are trying to make a baby, remember? And besides... My legs are tired. You take the lead."
Peter grinned down at you.
"Yes ma'am."
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abcd-em · 8 months
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Rolling Fake Dice
Rated M | 7 Chapters | Irondad but make it MJ, canon nudged left, established relationship
"Could have sworn you had a curfew at some point." Her dad chirps from the couch with a book resting in his lap.
"You two picked the wrong person to stand guard if you're trying to enforce that again." She replies.
His shoulders don't shake how she thought they might. It's hard to know how the jokes that used to be fair game might land now. Before the blip, teasing about the unconventional (at points, lack of) parenting Tony had adopted through the years had been fair game. Sarcasm and prodding tender spots with humour was always how she and her dad had communicated best.
After the Blip, that doesn't feel as true anymore. The boundaries have changed and she doesn't know enough about what happened in those days to be sure of where the line has been drawn.
Chapter One
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calciseptinefic · 1 year
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a luxury few can afford
Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 3 notes: this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: peter's anxiety
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Part 2
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Peter wakes slowly for the first time in years. No blaring alarm, no jab of awareness, no anxiety-induced panic—just the sweet and syrupy transition between consciousness and wakefulness, the light in the room slowly brightening as the sun makes its way to its zenith. At first, he thinks about getting up and starting his day, thinks about tackling the constant laundry list of tasks that comes from being a college student and a vigilante, but then he thinks of Wade.
Wade, standing in his space.
Wade, telling him what to do.
Peter burrows deeper into his sheets, cocooned in warmth and cotton worn soft, and lingers. He doesn't know how long he stays there, in that pleasant half-awake state; he didn't look at his phone when he woke up and he doesn't look at it when he gets out of bed. It takes effort to leave it face-down on his nightstand, but he leaves it, because he knows that if he picks it up, he's going to want to text Wade more than he already does, and Wade told him not to.
Not until seven.
So Peter pretends that his phone isn't there and that there isn't an itch of impatience under his skin. He eats breakfast—plain toast with peanut butter and sliced banana on top—then studies, reviewing for computational biochemistry and working on homework for genomics. Afterwards, he cleans up a little. His apartment is small, but the mess never gets too bad; he doesn't have much in the way of material possessions and he lives alone. He simply has to make sure that his dirty clothes are in the hamper and there isn't toothpaste encrusted on the sink faucet.
It's just past four when Peter finally checks the time. Less than three hours until he can text Wade his address. Peter sets his phone back down. Goes to take a long shower, letting the scalding water run down his back until it turns cold.
4:37.
Peter boils two packs of ramen, throwing a handful of frozen veggies, an egg, and diced spam into the bowl. Eats it.
4:48.
Peter opens his laptop again and checks his e-mail, both personal and university. There's nothing but junk in the former; in the latter, he only needs to respond to a question from his PI, and the response requires less than two sentences.
5:13.
Peter opens his social media accounts. Scrolls. Sighs, then closes them. Repeats this process at least three times for all of them before getting bored.
5:46.
Peter gets off his couch—a surprisingly comfy two-seater he found on the curb several years ago—and goes to his closet. He's been walking around in nothing but a baggy t-shirt and his underwear all day. He pulls on a pair of straight leg, light-wash jeans, the ones MJ said made him look like a twink but in the best way, and a thin, mustard-yellow sweater. His socks have little Rutherford model atoms on them and no holes, which is more than can be said for some of the others.
5:51.
Peter cusses and pulls off all his clothes, sans briefs, and stands in the middle of his tiny bedroom, chewing on his bottom lip. Who the hell wears jeans at home? Wade will definitely know he dressed up. What if Wade thinks that's weird? What if Wade laughs at him?
5:52.
Wade wouldn't laugh at him. Wade would probably put his hands on Peter's hips, fingers creeping back towards his butt, and murmur, "Shit, baby boy, your ass looks just as good in them jeans as they do in spandex," before hooking his thumbs into the belt loops and dragging Peter against him, humming 'Low' by Flo Rida before leaning down and—
The jeans are back on.
5:53.
Wade is absolutely going to laugh at him. Wade has laughed at him. Just last week, for example, a man with the power to control pigeons had beset approximately all the pigeons in New York City on Peter; they didn't hurt Peter, necessarily, but their little talons pricked as they tried to use every available surface of his body as a perch. Wade had laughed himself sick at the sight. And the week before that, Peter's spidey-sense had gone off when a sewer rat decided to challenge him for his veggie-stuffed dosa. Peter had been so startled to be charged by a malicious rodent that he shrieked, then instinctively threw the dosa at the rat, who carried the food off with a happy little wag of its fat wormtail. Wade had laughed and laughed and laughed, only able to wheeze by the end, doubled over with his hands braced on his knees. The video of the entire debacle trended on social media as well, much to Peter's chagrin.
5:55.
The jeans are off.
5:56.
But Wade did buy him some falafel at another food truck, afterwards. He also offered to track down the civilian that posted Peter's #spidermanvsrat #epicfail #justnycthings video and 'make them regret it', which was heartfelt if not a little misguided. And really, Wade had been laughing at a circumstance in which Peter was the unfortunate victim, not Peter himself. Vigilantism often lent itself to crazy and unintentionally hilarious situations, and while Wade wasn't exactly helpful every single time, he was never purposefully malicious. Besides, Peter has definitely laughed at Wade when the roles were reversed, so...
5:56.
Jeans on.
5:57.
Peter refolds his sweater and contemplates other options. There are are a couple henleys and a blazer which—no, this isn't a job interview, no matter how much Peter wants to be in a certain position—and that one sky blue button down that Aunt May likes. She says it 'makes him look like a nice young man', but Peter isn't going to be selling Wade fucking popcorn like a Boy Scout, he's going to be choking on Wade's magnum dong and crying about how good it is.
Hopefully.
If Wade doesn't take one look at him, laugh, and leave.
6:04.
Peter has touched every single top he owns, tried on four of them, and immediately yanked them off. Briefly, he thinks about calling MJ and asking her exactly what the fuck he should wear, but then he'd have to tell her that Wade is coming over for... well, it's more than a pre-meditated booty call, but it's not exactly a date, either.
It's just a blowjob, Peter tries to tell himself. I'm just giving him a blowjob. And just because he's bringing dinner doesn't mean that it's more.
6:11.
Peter dresses in jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a brown flannel. Casual. The kind of thing he would wear to class or to meet up with MJ or to see Aunt May. He picked it out easily, once his brain decided to hyper-fixate on another worry; now he's sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, as he turns his phone over and over in his hands.
"Stop freaking out," Peter tells himself. He forces himself to take big, deep breaths and hold them. It tricks his parasympathetic nervous system enough for the ache in his chest to ease. Calmed down as much as he can be, Peter whispers, "Now break it down, Parker. Find out what's really bothering you."
Fact #1: Wade is coming over for a blowjob. A blowjob Peter himself brought up, in exchange for Wade's mercenary services. Wade hasn't once indicated that it was owed to him or that he deserved it. Actually, he gave Peter ample opportunity to back out, which Peter refused because Fact #2: Peter really, really, really wants to suck Wade's cock. He doesn't have much experience (read: two anonymous blowjobs in the bathroom of some frat house during his sophomore year of college) but he knows he likes it. Loves it even.
Which brings him to Fact #3:
Peter likes Wade.
A lot.
He hadn't been lying when he told Wade that he had thought about giving Wade a blowjob before. He had. Both times those frat boys shoved their dicks down Peter's throat and thrust sloppily in, finishing before he could even jerk himself off onto the vinyl flooring, it was the thought of Wade that brought him over. Neither of those instances were the first time Peter had thought about Wade like that, and neither of them were the last. Wade's thighs and shoulders and hands took a starring role in many of Peter's sexual fantasies from pretty much the moment Wade waltzed in on one of Peter's fights. Wade, who's explicit jokes and dirty mouth made Peter press his knees tightly together. Wade, who flirted with him, complimented him. Wade, who was big, and loud, and so damnably present that Peter could never stop thinking about him.
Peter doesn't know when he stopped thinking about Wade as an attractive nuisance slash inconvenient crush, and when he started to think about Wade as his somewhat obnoxious but ridiculously hot best friend. It's all too tangled. Five years of stake-outs and take-outs; easy nights and hard nights; the instant compatibility and the slow gain of trust. They're friends.
Fact #4: They're friends. Wade likes Peter too. They spend time together and have inside jokes. They can drive each other crazy, but ultimately, Peter knows Wade has his back. He hopes that Wade knows that there isn't much Peter wouldn't do for him, either. It's just that Fact #5: Peter wants to be more than friends and, Fact #6: Peter doesn't know if Wade wants that too.
Sure, Wade flirts with him and calls him 'baby boy', but Wade has always been super open about his sexuality. Peter knows he isn't seeing anyone right now and that the serious relationships he's had in the past haven't ended well. So, sure, Peter and Wade are friends, but what if that's it?
What if Wade just wants a blowjob?
What if he doesn't want more?
That weirdness Peter felt two nights ago returns. It coils up inside him, his unease beginning to creep back. Not enough to break Wade's dictates, text him, and call the whole thing off, but enough to make Peter pause for the first time. He had been so wrapped up by all that was happening—kissing Wade, getting the evidence against Kingpin's goon, and kissing Wade again, all while dealing with the constant mundanities of civilian life—that he never stopped to think.
Peter wants this. He does. He wants Wade to come over and see his face. He wants to eat Thai until he's bursting, then undress, get on his knees, and give Wade a blowjob. And he knows he'll get that. But after?
Will Wade stay?
If Peter asks, will he spend the night in Peter's bed?
Will he be there when Peter wakes up? Let Peter make him scrambled eggs and cheap coffee?
Peter is keenly aware that Wade hasn't said anything about more. It isn't out of character; for as much as Wade talks, he often plays his cards very close to his chest, either to spare his feelings or spare the feelings of others. Like Peter, Wade might want more. Unlike Peter, he might not. The real question is this: If all Wade wants is a blowjob in exchange for services rendered, can Peter live with that? Can he put the memory of it in a box, to only occasionally be pulled out with equal amounts of fondness and hurt, and not let it destroy what they already have?
Peter turns over his phone.
Taps the darkened screen.
6:57.
He takes a breath—
6:58.
Opens his chat with Wade—
6:59.
Types out a message—
7:00.
And hits send.
.
Part 4
.
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themculibrary · 2 years
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Parent!Tony + Peter In School Masterlist
Blue skies fade to grey by @xxx-cat-xxx
Summary: Peter gets sick at school, and Ned, MJ and Tony try to take care of him in their own particular ways.
Bring Your School to Work Day (ao3) - notoneforreality G, 6k
Summary: Peter Parker has never had much luck, and that's without Tony Stark interfering to make things worse. He's grateful for everything Mr Stark has done...or rather, was grateful for almost every Mr Stark had done. It was just some burnt toast! Mr Stark didn't need to go that hard on the revenge.
Peter ends up on a field trip to the Avengers Compound with his class and hopes that no-one gets involved.
Ft. memes, savagery, and wholesome family relationships
Career Day (ao3) - superhusbands4ever (Potterwatch97) G, 3k
Summary: “Hey, sorry I’m late,” Peter’s enhanced senses picked up the familiar voice from outside the door. “I had a meeting this morning and then I got lost looking for the class… anyway, I’m here for Peter? Peter Parker?”
He frowned at hearing his name, still unsure what exactly was going on. He watched as his teacher continued to stand and stare out the door for a minute before seemingly remembering herself and taking a step back.
“Of course! If you could just go sit next to him until your turn, he’s in the back on the right side.”
The man stepped through the door and Peter gaped with the rest of the class as Tony Stark, in his signature suit and goatee, sporting a pair of red sunglasses and carrying a suitcase walked through the door.
Emergency Contact (ao3) - petrakronos G, 2k
Summary: Peter figured he had to have a weakness to his spider powers, but he never expected to find out in such a brutal way. It was torturous and in a place like this of all places for this to happen. He wished the universe would take him now.
Sick in second-period Spanish class. What a way to go out.
And one from me:
Graduation, Interrupted (ao3) - cazmalfoy T, 3k
Summary: As soon as he finds out about it, Tony quickly agrees to attend Peter's High School graduation.
Of course, the Avengers are then called on a mission, threatening Tony's ability to keep his promise.
In Case of Emergency (ao3) - aliaoftwoworlds G, 4k
Summary: Tony is listed as one of Peter’s emergency contacts.
These Hands Could Hold The World (But It’ll Never Be Enough) (ao3) - josywbu T, 9k
Summary: 5 times Tony goes to Peter’s school and the 1 time Peter’s class visits Stark Industries.
Tony Stark, Chaperone Extraordinaire (ao3) - CaptainStarSong N/R, 4k
Summary: After Aunt May has to cancel last minute on being a chaperone for Peter's school trip to Liberty Science Center, Tony Stark (Good Dad™) steps in to save the day. (Featuring adorable Cotton Top Tamarins, Flash being put into his place, and slightly awkward but honestly trying Tony Stark.)
Vein Drain (ao3) - ciaconnaa G, 2k
Summary: Peter Parker faints at Midtown’s annual Halloween themed blood drive. Tony Stark gets called to pick him up.
What Do Sick Teenagers Do? by natasha_alianovna_romanoff G, 5k
Summary: When Peter gets suddenly ill at school and May is out of the city for work, his teachers don’t know what to do with him. Tony is sure they handled it wrong. But how do you handle a sick teenager?
Basically the classic sick Peter trope with lots of irondad and poor Peter being completely out of it.
you’re still young (that’s not your fault) (ao3) - tonystarkstan T, 6k
Summary: Five times Tony goes to Peter’s school and one time Peter goes with him to work.
¿Cómo se dice ‘I’m in Deep Sh*t’? (ao3) - whumphoarder G, 3k
Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances (and a bit of procrastination), Peter runs out of time to prepare for his Spanish presentation and ends up faking sick to buy himself some more.
He just wasn’t really counting on Tony being the one to pick him up from school.
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angry-cryptid · 1 year
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Hi MJ! I'm wondering, do you still make custom d10 dice sets? Maybe with VtM symbols on them? This is just a curiosity for a long time off from now.
Hi 🥰
I might. I've been printing my own dice masters and can make some that won't make paradox mad again (I had to stop making them back in the day because they don't want people to make ones that are identical to the official ones and lowkey threatened to sue).
That being said, things have been so rough and slow because etsy shadowbanned me 'for too many orders' that I just don't know if I can afford it rn, but I'm sure I'll make them again in the future.
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mincrthreat · 2 years
Note
💚 (mainly because you said I looked like Mary Jane and that’s been my ego boost for the week. ☺️)
Don’t feel too bad, MJ. I don’t really talk to people. I just talk at them and then ignore them when they talk back most of the time.
But you’re more than welcome to strike up a conversation whenever you fancy and roll the dice. The best way to get my attention is to make fun of @xxbrittsburgh. It’s like my Batsignal.
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outof10beta · 3 months
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TOP 50 TRACKS OF 2023
Bitch.
Spotify Playlist
YouTube Playlist
Full List
50. RXKNephew - Critical
49. Lil Yachty - the BLACK seminole.
48. Dua Lipa - Houdini
47. ICECOLDBISHOP - CURSED
46. Mitski - Bug Like an Angel
45. XG - SHOOTING STAR
44. Lil Uzi Vert - Suicide Doors
43. Nettspend - shine n peace
42. Killer Mike - SCIENTISTS & ENGINEERS
41. 100 gecs - Dumbest Girl Alive
40. Drake - First Person Shooter
39. KayCyy - ROLL THE DICE
38. Carly Rae Jepsen - Kamikaze
37. Kali Uchis - I Wish you Roses
36. Doja Cat - Agora Hills
35. Danny Brown - Jenn's Terrific Vacation
34. yeule - dazies
33. meat computer - i feel like a dog
32. Billie Eilish - What Was I Made For?
31. Sampha - Only
30. Ken Carson - Jennifer's Body
29. Lily-Rose Depp - World Class Sinner
28. Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit - Strawberry Woman
27. Billy Woods & Kenny Segal - Babylon By Bus
26. James Blake - Tell Me
25. Georgia Gets By - So Free So Lonely
24. MIKE - plz don't cut my wings
23. bl4ck m4rket c4rt - No Food
22. Remi Wolf - Prescription
21. Youth Lagoon - Mercury
20. Roisin Murphy - You Knew
19. Yves Tumor - Heaven Surrounds Us Like a Hood
18. Sufjan Stevens - So You Are Tired
17. Tinashe - Treason
16. Sofia Kourtesis - How Music Makes You Feel Better
15. Olivia Rodrigo - Lacy
14. hemlocke springs - enknee1
13. Kelela - Raven
12. boygenius - Cool About It
11. Jim Legxacy - old place
10. Squid - Swing
9. Lana Del Ray - A&W
8. Travis Scott - MODERN JAM
7. Jess Williamson - Hunter
6. MJ Lenderman - Knockin
5. Earl Sweatshirt & Vince Staples - The Caliphate
4. George Clanton - Everything I Want
3. JPEGMAFIA & Danny Brown - Burfict!
2. Metro Boomin - Am I Dreaming
1! Nourished by Time - Quantum Suicide
0 notes
dicedragonjo · 1 year
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Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
'Reverie'
Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree.
Polished, unpainted, inedible.
You can find these on my Etsy and even pick your own paint color!
3K notes · View notes
ninethecat · 4 years
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So I tried out dirty pouring dice last night and these beauties popped out of the mold! I have more but these are my favorites.
Those swirls! The color! I love them. I'll have to try to make full sets like this once I get my masters done and molds made...
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artificer-dice · 8 months
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So I may be up to something...
(The die on the right is a 30mm chonk for scale)
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lokislastlove · 2 years
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Illicit Encounter (Dark!Peter Parker x Reader)
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Summary: You help Peter make dinner for Aunt Mays birthday.
Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, fingering, cheating (I know I know), possession/jealousy.
Note: This was a dream I had… and uhh… I needed to get it out. Hahaha it’s short tho, under 2k words. Peter is awful.
🍷
The wine is sweet on your lips as you toss back your first glass and watch as Peter hauls in the last of the groceries. You take the potatoes and dump them next to the sink, toss the array of vegetables on the cutting board while Peter tends to the meat.
“Don’t undercook it this time,” you chide as you pour yourself another glass. “You know May hates it when she sees blood.”
Peter watches you with a smirk, “then maybe you should take it easy on the wine, sunshine, or you might bleed all over the food.” He raises a brow pointedly at the large chefs knife next to you and you giggle.
“I’d only make it more delicious,” you laugh as you flourish the knife at him and Peter grimaces in disgust, making you laugh harder.
“Thats disgusting,” he chuckles.
“You love it,” you wink, taking another sip.
You two carry on prepping dinner for Aunt May’s birthday, dancing around each other in the kitchen as you have done for years. You can’t remember when it became a tradition, but it’s an event you’ve cherished ever since.
“How many people are coming tonight?” You ask as you try to count out the remaining uncut vegetables.
“Us, Mj, Tony, Pepper…” he counts out loud, tapping each finger as he goes. “Is wonder boy coming?”
You scoff, “Peter it’s been over a year, you know his name. And yes, Matt is coming.”
“Well Matt…,” he sasses, “makes nine.”
You shake your head at his antics and continue cooking as the room starts to get warmer. After patting your forehead for the fifth time you huff and shrug off your coat, leaving you in a skimpy halter top. You don’t notice the way Peters eyes linger on your exposed back and shoulders as you chop.
When you turn around with a handful of diced veggies to add to the pan you find Peter leaning against the counter watching you with a lazy smirk.
“Why don’t you make yourself useful,” you joke, gesturing to the pile of food to add to the pan.
You toss in the veggies and the oil sizzles as you turn back to collect the rest. Peter doesn’t move, just watching you with an odd expression.
“What?” You wonder, poking at the food in the pan.
“Nothing, just seems a bit risqué for cooking, doesn’t it?” he gestures to the deep neckline of your shirt and smirks.
“I’m hot…” you shrug.
“Matt probably has you cooking naked for him all the time, doesn’t he?”
“Peter!” you exclaim and swat him with a spatula, “you wish.”
“I can picture it,” he chuckles.
You scowl at him and move over to another counter to butter some rolls. His flirty attentions make your face heat, something he probably doesn’t realize drives you crazy.
You chug the rest of your second glass of wine and sigh as it relaxes you further. But, as you consciously release the tension in your shoulders and reach for the butter knife, Peter walks behind you. His fingers tickle all the way from the back of one arm, across your shoulders and down your other arm. The sensation is so intimate and surprising that you gasp in shock as a shiver leaves goosebumps in its wake.
Your hand slips and the knife crashes to the floor, flinging butter all over your leg. “Shit,” you curse and instantly bend to clean it.
Peter squats down in turn and uses his finger to scoop up a large chunk of butter near your ankle. But he doesn’t stop there, he continues to run his finger along your calf only stopping when you push his hand away around your knee.
“I’ve got it,” you mutter and grab a towel, on all fours now as you wipe away the slippery butter from the tile.
“I can see that,” you look up at the unusual lilt to his voice, deeper and more suggestive than you are used to.
You gape at the way his eyes cling to your tits as the tight top strains to keep them from popping out. Suddenly it occurs to you that Peter has also had a glass of wine and he’s probably trying to get a rise out of you.
Your eyes narrow and you look down at your chest before fluttering your eyelids up at him from your admittedly suggestive position. You wiggle your ass as you use your arms to push your breasts together and his eyes follow the movement.
“Why Peter Parker, are you checking me out?” You tease, tutting playfully at him.
He says nothing and just smirks, but you notice the dark twinkle in his eye. He slowly stands up and you swallow down the embarrassment you feel in the silence. You shouldn’t have said that. What were you thinking? You’re such an idiot.
You stand up to check on the stove before going back to the rolls. Focusing on the task at hand, you let the awkwardness float away as you both cook quietly. There’s a lull as you finish prepping, just waiting for everything to cook and you go back to the bottle of wine. It’s empty and you pout, lower lip poking out as you tilt it upside down dramatically.
“We’re gonna need a bigger bottle,” you joke as you set the empty bottle aside and bend down to check the wine fridge built into the lower cabinets.
You feel a warmth at your back but before you can react Peter wraps his hand around your head, covering your mouth and muffling your startled cries. He pulls you up straight, his other arm hooking around your chest as he walks you over to the nearest wall and presses you against it.
“You just can’t help yourself can you?” He hisses into your ear.
Your eyes widen at his angry tone and you try to push off the wall to break his grip but with a simple thrust of his hips he pushes you back.
“So what is it, huh? Is wonder boy just not doing it for you, sunshine?” he goads cruelly.
You shake your head in confusion, your brow furrowing as you give in to his superior strength and wait for him to let go. He slowly lowers the hand from your mouth, gripping your jaw instead so that you can’t turn away from him.
“What are you talking about?” You ask, dumbstruck.
“You,” he hisses, “parading around the kitchen like this, bending over and trying to tease me. Clearly you have an itch that needs scratching. And if he won’t do it…” he trails off as his hand around your middle glides further down.
You try to wiggle free as he tickles the sensitive skin just above the top of your shorts and he moans as you brush back against him.
“Peter, stop,” you squeak, still expecting him to snap out of it. “I get it ok. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You know wine makes me flirty.”
“Hmm,” he hums as he drags his lips along your shoulder, making you shudder, that spot always gets you. “I think it’s more than that. Look at you, barely a touch and I have you quaking. You’re desperate for it, so… needy,” he intones as he kisses up your neck and you choke back a moan. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you walk around like this?”
He dips a finger beneath your waistband, then another and your hips jump at the sensation. It feels wrong. You know it’s wrong, and yet you slowly arch into his touch. His deep voice stirs something in you, his dominant touches, so gentle yet so sure.
“Peter,” you whisper desperately in a mixture of fear and desire.
“If you didn’t want it you wouldn’t have been looking at me like that,” he interrupts your thoughts.
“I…” your protests are replaced with a gasp as he shoves his whole hand in and cups your mound. His middle finger pressing down along your slit through your panties.
You bite your lip to stifle another moan. You try to turn away from him to hide your shame. He just tuts at you, tightening his hold to keep you facing him so he can watch you unravel.
���Another useless boyfriend. Doesn’t know how to treat a girl like you,” he begins to rub you over your panties, back and forth lightly until you soak through the thin fabric.
“He’s not…” you try to defend.
“He’s not me,” he growls, his fingers digging into your jaw painfully.
You gasp, eyes darting to his nervously as he reveals the truth you’ve tried to hide for a decade.
“What?” You quiver, eyes rolling as he presses firmly to your clit and circles it.
“You’ve always been mine, sunshine. And I’m getting tired of you trying to pretend any different,” his fingers slide down to cradle your neck, tightening threateningly.
“B-but MJ…” you choke out, a tear sliding down your cheek.
“What about her? I’m talking about you,” he bites your shoulder and pulls his hand back to pop open the buttons of your shorts.
He pushes them down roughly, dragging your panties with them, letting them tangle around your lower thighs. He kicks open your legs and dips his hand back down, letting you feel the moisture he’s already collected on his fingers as he runs them over your thighs.
Hot tears of humiliation stream down your face as you realize his possession over you doesn’t imply his willingness to commit to you. You are his, but that doesn’t mean he is yours. It tears at your heart, and yet as his fingers glide lower and poke into your cunt you feel your body submit to him nonetheless.
“You’re gonna break up with Matt at the end of the night,” he demands lowly in your ear as he pumps his fingers into you, making your knees wobble.
His tight grip on your throat blocks the air from your lungs and your body tingles with a heat like nothing you’ve experienced before. You want to be strong enough to deny him, confident enough to tell him he can’t treat you like this. But as he brings you to your first orgasm the only word you are able to utter is a pitiful, euphoric, “yes.”
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scifigrl47 · 3 years
Text
Game Nights
(So AGDQ, the speedrunning charity marathon, started today, benefiting Doctors without Borders.  And I feel like writing about video games, so the Foodieverse team are going to have some fun times.  Enjoy!)
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we’re open for business today.  Vacation doesn’t start until tomorrow, Tony.”
“Yes, yes, I know, I’m good, I’m ready, I’ll be ready,” Tony said, his attention focused on keeping the stack of boxes in his arms from ending up on the floor.  “I’ve got time, and-”
“Behind, chef!”
Sue moved past him, a massive tray of bread held over her head, and Tony skittered out of her way, the bags slung over his elbows clattering against the edges of the workstations.  The boxes shifted, and he bit back a swear. “PARKER!”
“Coming, I’m-  I’m coming, Chef,” Peter said, scrambling his way out of the walk-in, his sneakers squeaking on the tile.  “What do you-”
“Catch,” Tony gritted out, as a box slipped off the top of the stack, bouncing off the edge of a prep station and tumbling towards the ground.  Peter got there an instant before it did, catching it one handed, a container of chopped onions held under his other arm like a football.
There was a beat of silence, then, someone started clapping.  Someone who clearly did not care about their continued employment.  Tony twisted around, glaring at the kitchen from around the edge of a box.  Bruce met his eyes without flinching, slapping his hands together with a palatable sarcasm.  “Rude,” Tony told him.
Bruce’s head tipped to the side.“Are you creating an obstruction in my kitchen?” he asked, reaching across his station.  He pulled a knife from the block with an almost soundless hiss of steel on wood.  “Is…  Is that what’s happening here?”
“It’s our kitchen, and-” Bruce’s smile took on a dangerous edge, his fingers rolling against the hilt of the knife, and Tony abandoned that line of discussion.  “And I was just getting out of the way, Parker, let’s go.”
Peter, for his part, was just staring down at the box in his hand, confusion all over his face.  “Did…  Did you buy a Playstation5?”
“No, Parker, I knocked over a Best Buy, because that’s the next logical step after working in food service, a life of crime,” Tony said, offloading a few more boxes into Peter’s arms.  “Yes, I bought a Playstation.  Of whatever numerical value that they had in stock.  And an XBox.  And everything else they had in the ‘video game’ section.”
“How the hell did you get a Playstation5?” Peter asked, and he sounded more confused than he usually did.
“I walked into a mall and I went to a person in a blue shirt and a yellow name tag and I said ‘give me one of every video game thing you have,’ and then I paid an astronomical amount of money on a credit card, how does one usually get a Playstation5?”
“You’re not kidding about the ‘one of everything’ thing,” Riri said, peering over Peter’s shoulder.  He held up the box, and she let out a low, slow whistle of disbelief.  “High end models all around.”  She looked at Tony, her eyebrows arched.  “Is this a midlife crisis or something?”
Tony gave her a look.  “What.”
She shrugged.  “Well, you’ve already got a sports car,” she pointed out.  The sous vide machine at her station started beeping, and she darted away, ducking around the end of the counter.  “Marcus, can you-”
Marcus leaned over from his own station, pushing the off button before returning silently to his own prep work.  Riri slid into place, her hands darting over the machine’s controls.  “Thanks,” she said.  “You already have a sports car, Chef, so you skipped that step.”
Tony turned in place, raising one knee to bounce the stack of boxes back ingo place.  “What do you mean, ‘mid-life crisis?’”
Riri peered at him over the top of the sous vide.  “I mean that sometimes guys do-”
“You’re middle aged, Tony,” Sue said, bustling back past him, rolling a rack of uncooked pastries towards the ovens.
“Excuse me?” Tony asked, and she gave him a speaking look.
“You’re old,” she said, the words as blunt as a cast iron skillet to the face.  While he gaped at her, struggling for something that could refute that, she continued, “Why are we taking up gaming at your highly advanced age?”
“First of all, I’m not old, and second of all, I hate you, you’re fired, and third of all, Hitomi has agreed to let DJ get a video game-” He bounced the boxes in his arms, ignoring the clatter of cardboard and plastic.  “Machine, and somehow it’s become my job to figure out what is appropriate to buy for him, because, as she pointed out, she doesn’t want to do it.”
Tony paused.  “Neither do I, but no one asks for my opinion.”
“Mostly because we’re going to get it whether we ask for it or not,” Bruce mused.  “You’re still in the middle of my kitchen, Tony.”
“It’s at least half my kitchen, you know,” Tony said.
Bruce nodded, his attention focused on stacks of herbs that needed to be diced.  “I know, I just don’t care.”
“Again, rude,” Tony said.  “C’mon, Parker, you can help me figure this stuff out.”
“What?” Peter asked, juggling the console box and the bin of diced onions.  “Why ask me?”
“Because you play video games,” Tony said, his voice flat.
Peter’s eyes darted to the side.  “No, I mean-” He cleared his throat. “Maybe when I was a kid, but who plays video games as an adult?  I mean, why would you think that I-”
“Because last week, you fell asleep in the locker room, and your fingers were going like this-” Riri said, holding her hands up in front of her, her thumbs bouncing like crazy.  “If we had a controller to give you, you probably could’ve cleared a few levels of Dark Souls in your sleep.”
“Maybe I was sleep texting,” Peter said. “The many, many beautiful girls that I’m dating.”
“Should we tell MJ about these many girls?” Sue asked, leaning over his shoulder.
“No,” Peter said.
“I mean, we can, I’m sure she’lll be glad to hear about Peter’s imaginary friends,” Riri said with a grin.  “You are a weird little nerd and you play video games, Peter.”
“Okay, so first of all, gaming is not just for weird little nerds,” Peter said.
“But you are a weird little nerd,” Tony told him.  
“So are you,” Bruce said, and Marcus choked on a laugh.  Tony gave him a wounded look, and Bruce pointed at Peter.  “So, from one weird little nerd to another-”
“I’m rich, that means I’m cool, even when I’m not cool, and besides, shut up,” Tony said, ignoring the way that Bruce was laughing to himself. 
“Okay, so maybe I know some things about video games, but-” Peter started, and Tony cut him off.
“Yes, which means, you’re the best bet I’ve got, so welcome to it being your problem,” Tony told him.  “I mean, I could ask Bruce-”
“I put a controller through the wall of my apartment more than a decade ago and neither it not my security deposit survived,” Bruce said, stabbing the buttons on his blender with a great deal of force.  It rocked on its base.  “But if you want me to-”
Tony nodded. “Right, so, not asking Bruce.”
“I mean, Clint streams,” Riri said, her arms folded on the edge of the prep station.  She tapped her fingers against the shining surface.  “A few times a week.”
“What does that mean?” Tony asked.  He tried to brace the boxes on the edge of the workstation, and when they slipped sideways, he cursed.  “Parker, could you-”
“Clint STREAMS?” Peter took another box from the stack, balancing it on top of the onions.  “What the hell does Clint stream?”
“He speedruns retro titles on Twitch,” Riri said, shaking her head, her attention focused on the readout of the sous vide.  “And he’s got a Discord?”
“He’s got a DISCORD?” Peter asked, his voice rising.  “For WHAT?”
“For his subscribers, it’s a Patreon perk.” Riri gave him a look as she reached for the knife block and a squash the size of her calf. “He sent out invites, check your damn email, Pete.”
“Most of those are words that I recognize, but none of them make any fucking sense in that particular order,” Tony told her.
“He was briefly the speedrun world record holder on BurgerTime,” she said, the knife slicing through the air in Tony’s general direction, before thunking smoothly through the flesh of the squash.  “Four minutes and fifty-two seconds. He’s got a pretty big subscriber base, I think mostly because they like watching how badly he can screw things up, and still somehow not, you know-” The knife flashed through the air.  “Die.”
“That does appear to be how he gets the majority of his gigs, yes,” Tony said.  He gave up and headed for his office.  “And I’m not asking Barton.”
“You do know I have children roughly DJ’s age, don’t you?” Sue asked from across the kitchen.  “Children who are very dedicated to their various devices?”
“Right,” Tony said, perking up.  “Can I use your children?”
She stared at him.  “I want you to replay that phrase in your head and see if anything seems off about the phrasing you’ve chosen, Tony.”
Tony thought about it.  “Can I have your children?”
“Right.” She turned back to the ovens.  “This might be your problem, Peter.”
Peter sighed.  “I kinda figured it would be.”
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