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nekovmancer · 2 years

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Burning Desire

Summary: When Doctor Octavius finds out how silly your crush on him can get as he discover some scribbling on your paperwork, he can't help but be a tease. Warnings: dom!Otto x sub!reader, age gap, mentions spanking, oral sex (giving), semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie Pairing: Otto Octavius x f!reader Requested by Anonymous featuring prompt 26 "Focus only on me". MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Read the rules and make your request here

Also posted on AO3

gif source: here

Your hands were on my hips, your name is on my lips Over over again, like my only prayer ━━ BURNING DESIRE (Lana Del Rey)

You couldn't exactly remember the point where your rigorously professional relationship with doctor Octavius crossed not one, but too many lines.

The late nights working in the lab together surely was a great help to bring the two of you together. And things were quick to get heated… shame is on you who had poor control over your own desperate desires.

But who could blame you at all?

In your defense, it was hard to not treasure doctor Octavius. He was a wise, respectful scientist with an admirable passion for his work, and such a courteous and experienced man… of course you had developed a goddamn crush on him. How could you not?

At first, you thought of it as a mere childish platonic passion, those where you got yourself thinking how his surname would look on you… Y/N Octavius. Damn. It was too great to ignore. You had even scribbled it a few times on the edges of your paperwork, violently erasing the words whenever Otto came dangerously closer. Of course, you’d blame a miscalculation if questions were asked, and he was gentle enough to reassure you. Little did he know…

Surprisingly, you realized he seemed to fancy you as well. Octavius was the one who always brought you morning coffee, let his hand brush in yours longer than expected when you handed him something, or even made sweet commentaries on how beautiful you were, leaving you flushed and stuttering to reply a simple thank you. And if you still have any doubts despite his clear preference for you among his other assistants, well… they were extirpated the very day you fucked him on his desk.

Having sex with your boss and mentor wasn’t precisely ethical of you, so the relationship you developed, if you could call the thing going on between you two like that, had to be kept a secret. You love the stolen kisses, the nasty touches under the table, especially if someone's around which implies you have to keep quiet no matter how good it feels. And also those lovely small gifts Octavius would leave on your table, signing the notes attached to them as a secret admirer. His handwriting was unmistakable, and he'd always come up to you afterwards, asking if you appreciated the present with a cocky smirk that left no doubts he already knew the answer.

And speaking of the devil…

Octavius had just required your presence in his private study, which could be he wanting to lecture you over some mistake or have sex. Or both, actually. You happily followed him along trotting like a puppy on their owner’s trail, standing patiently in the middle of the room while Doc closed the door behind you, waiting for him to offer you a seat. Such as the obedient pet you were.

He chuckles lightly when he passes by you, fingers brushing on your shoulder as a gentle caress, “I was reading your reports… excellent, I must say. But something caught my eye,” Octavius proceeds to move away, sitting behind his desk. The ghost of his touch was still lingering on your skin when he grabbed a handful of papers, examining them with a smirk. “Just remind me of something… since when has your last name become Octavius?”

“Oh… fuck,” you whisper, biting on your lower lip.

In fact, a million times fuck.

Your dumb-ass must have forgotten to erase some of your silly scribbling. And Octavius, the bastard… of course he wouldn’t miss it and be so damn amused. And of course you were blushing madly, your face boiling hot as the reddish blush covered them, running down to your neck til the tip of your ears. Not that you already aren't pretty obvious about your crush, but… this was way too childish, too embarrassing.

“Well…” you swallow, frozen where you're standing. A cornered prey staring right into the eyes of their predator. You needed to recover something of your dignity, if it still had something to recover by this point. But thankfully, you knew just how to handle this matter flawlessly. “In my defense, I… I… plead guilty, sir.”

Octavius’ eyes darken when you called him sir, but you didn't avoid his lustful stare. Instead, you let his piercing gaze reach for the deepest part of your soul, even if he already knew where you’re trying to get. Of course you knew this single, yet powerful, word would snap something inside of him. And hopefully it would be enough to erase your dumb scribbles out of his mind.

You managed to keep yourself still besides Octavius' hungry look, strong enough to leave shivers of expectation running down your spine. Despite having all your clothes on, you somehow felt naked… exposed. Like his gaze alone could tear your clothes apart. And it only left you more aroused for what was about to come. Which meant your plan was going all too well.

Batting your eyes with an innocence that surely didn’t match your thoughts, you wait for him to say something, no matter how much you’d love to state he was even hotter whenever his dominant side was brought up between four walls. Pity he probably wouldn’t spank you for daydreaming about him. No… he was way too fond of your passion, to not say cocky, to punish you for it.

“What a cute little one you are…” he exhales, eyes now wandering over your form from head to toe. “Come here, kitten” doctor Octavius taps his lap, finally inviting you to have a seat, and it’s your turn to smirk shamelessly as you pleasantly obey. “Now tell me… what were you thinking when you wrote these?” He points to the writings of Y/N Octavius all over the paper’s edges, making the blush on your cheeks persist and your smile fade. At least those weren’t followed by a couple of hearts.

Oh damn… as it seemed, he wasn’t giving up. Plan B was lying, but you surely were far from being a good liar, and Otto wouldn’t be happy to notice you’re trying to fool him, especially since he was being a fucking stubborn one as if he couldn’t already read you like a book.

Plan C was smarter and safer, so you followed along.

“I was thinking about you… about us,” you bit on your lip again, letting your fingers trace the lines of your handwriting smoothly. One of Octavius’ arms surrounds your hips, bringing your body close to his chest. He was warm… his scent had this strong accent that smelled like smoke and coffee. And, mostly, he was beginning to get hard. “I am sorry. I should have erased this before handing you my report. It’s… ridiculous. I am sorry, sir.”

“Is it?” with his chin resting on your shoulder, Octavius’ breath was dangerously close to your neck. It felt so pleasurable against your skin… you shiver, swallowing the whimper you’re about to vocalize. Your restraining didn’t seem to please the doctor as he noticed, so he moves the hand on your waist to cup your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you can’t hold back your moan despite how much you’ve tried to suppress it. At least, it wasn’t loud enough to betray what you’re doing behind closed doors. “I don’t think so. Why don’t you just tell me all about these thoughts of yours about us? I can bet they are not as pure as the look you have on your pretty face.”

Octavius leans to kiss your blushed cheek, his wet mouth proceeding to peck the tip of your nose, and then moving down to your already parted lips, waiting for his tongue to come in. You close your eyes as his face gets closer and closer, feeling your heart pound against your ribs. Arousal, shame, desire... the whole trinity burning on your lower stomach.

Doc’s warmish breath tickles the sensitive skin of your mouth, though he didn’t move to actually kiss you as you expected him to. He avoids your awaiting lips, reaching lower to pick at the skin of your chin not so gently. Teeth gripping at it until it leaves a wet, red mark on your face.

"Doctor Octavius…” you sob, your sly tone of voice almost reaching a plea. “Why won’t you kiss me? Do you wish me to beg?”

“Oh dear, you’re such a good girl… but I am afraid I can’t proceed until you answer my question. Maybe I should repeat it for you?” Octavius brings his hand to stroke your cheek, sometimes lowering his caress to smooth the bruise on your chin, and you lean to his touch.

Pouting, you try to bring your thoughts together as you take a deep breath to recompose yourself… and in the silence which follows, you can hear your co-workers gossiping behind the door as they pass by, and you can’t help but let your focus deflect to their conversation. Kinda impossible to not do so, since you’re the subject.

“I bet Y/N is screwed again. It's the fifth time in a row she's called to Doctor Octavius’ office this week.”

Cocking a brow, your lips bend over to display a bold smile as you mewl your question, “Did you hear that? Are you going to screw me, Doc?”

“Darling… focus only on me,” the caress on your cheek gets rougher when his thumb and index fingers press each side of your face, holding it and keeping your eyes on him, and him only. “Are we going through that rebellious phase of yours again? If that’s the case, maybe I should put you in line before proceeding with this conversation.”

You shook your head, lowered your eyes to the papers and tapped your index finger on top of your writing. Alright! Focus. Plan C was still running, “I… I have a better idea. Why don’t you let me show you just what I was imagining while I scribbled this all over my paperwork, Doc? I am sure this is going to put my mouth into better use.”

Because saying exactly what you’re dreaming of out loud would point an end to your thing with Otto, you were sure it would. Your relationship was made to be kept between four walls, to be a stroke to the ego and a carnal pleasure. It was not meant for those lovely poetry shit and such declarations as... the way you thought about him while you wrote his last name as yours.

In your daydreams you’d picture him as your partner. Officially. But it would be too much to ask of Doctor Octavius. Your boss, your lover... the first man you had ever loved, keeping the truth of your feelings as secret as your relationship with him. For now, you’d have only what you could have. Greed is dangerous, so you choose to drown in lust instead.

He let go of his hold on your face, smirking. “Fair enough. Show me, then.”

Kneeling before Octavius, you push his chair enough to give you some space between his legs. The bulge in his pants was still there, making your mouth water with the glorious sight of his covered length. Your hands caress his inner thighs from the top to the bottom, slowly reaching for his pant’s buttons. Octavius groans, and his fingers find their way through your locks, intertwining them as one.

A delightful sigh escapes from your lips, which you wet with the tip of your tongue, “You know something I can’t get out of my mind?” you purred, your eyes meeting his as you finally unbuttoned the trousers, lowering them with his underpants. His free cock had precum already leaking from its red tip, and it’s Octavius’ turn to sigh, the grip on your hair getting harder. “Your moans. It feels so good when I earn them,” you chuckle, rolling your tongue around his glans, tasting the salty precum dripping on your mouth.

Octavius’ head fell back, and he squeezed his lips shut to avoid a whine, which echoes on his chest. “Oh, of course… it’s a shame we can’t be loud,” you head motions to the door. Behind it, the other assistants kept their work, concentrated in their calculations and shit, and too oblivious to care for how long you were staying in the boss’ private study. “But I do think about it a lot…how intense they get when you’re fucking my mouth. Damn… you’re making me wet already.”

“I knew there’s nothing good coming from this dirty head of yours,” he muttered under his breath, the fingers gripping on the strands of your hair now too close to your scalp. Hurts so good it burns, and it indubitably makes you horny.

“Oh… I am no good when it comes to you” and without another word, you take his full length down your throat, until his tip reaches its depths. It’s a bold move that almost makes you choke, but the way Octavius' breath sharpens and he groans weakly… it’s worth it.

He pulls the strands of your hair so hard that you can feel tears forming in your eyes, yet you take the pleasurable pain as a hint to don’t stop moving. You suck on Doc’s cock, wet mouth wrapped around his throbbing length as he bucks his hips to move further inside of you. His cock filled your mouth entirely, muffling your helpless cries with every thrust of Octavius’ hips. You let him settle the pace, digging your fingernails on his bare thighs to steady yourself.

Octavius’ free hand then moves to your chest, where he slides it under your blouse to find your breasts, no bra obstructing the way to your hard nipples. The doctor’s eyes widen, and he pinches your nipples between his thumb and his index finger. “You little minx,” his accusatory tone nearly makes you laugh, but you just sucked him harder, twirling your tongue around his cock until his chair was creaking with restless movements and he was mumbling sweet nothing, his grasps on your hair and skin loosening and then unexpectedly tightening again.

“Oh darling, you have no idea of how much I’d love to fuck you for this entire lab to hear” Doctor Octavius grunts, pulling your hair backwards until his cock slips out of your mouth. You grumble at the absence of his manhood, but have no more complaints when his lips capture yours in such a heated, passionate kiss which makes your knees weaken. “But I’ll fuck you nonetheless. Let me just… make sure you’ll keep quiet.”

His big hand now comes up to cover your mouth. Almost half of your face to be honest, considering the man is huge. By any means, the pressure is enough to suppress any sound you could vocalize, as you figured out when you try calling out his name while Octavius helped you to get on your feet. “Hm? What is it, darling? I can’t understand you like that, you know?” he giggles, moving the hand obstructing your mouth away when he tenderly lays you on your back on top of his table, moving away the sweaty strands of hair stuck on your face. “Say it, pet.”

“Since you’re going to keep me quiet… cum inside of me, would you? Please.”

He clicks his tongue, an amused grin in display “It would be my pleasure,” Octavius gives you a gentle peck before covering your mouth again. “Now open your legs for me, pet.” Obeying his command, you spread your legs, supporting your upper body on your elbows so your face is still close enough to his when leans to you, your breath tickling the palm of the Doc’s hand which was still pressed firmly against your face. Octavius’ eyes are dark with lust, the blow pupils obscuring the sweet chocolate iris. “Good girl.”

With a single hand, he manages to get rid of your clothes, slowly but surely leaving you naked from head to toe. Octavius had kissed and teased your body with each removed garment, leaving dark hickeys covering yourself from between your breasts to down your pelvis. Your hard nipples were still wet from his saliva, the burning pain of the loving bites traveling along his kisses until they’ve reached your lower stomach. There weren’t butterflies there, but flames. They make your body hot in a fever-pitch, dampening your aching chore with the languishing fluids of your desire.

Octavius’ firm hand was still covering your mouth, not moving a single inch since he placed it there. Your hot, thick breath was making its palm sweaty, and the drops of salty sweat were dripping in your parted mouth, from where restless moans came from. Though, the best was to come.

He finally reaches that sweet spot of yours, aching for him to touch it. Octavius’ aquiline nose brushes against your clit before his lips gives it a luscious kiss, which leaves your inner thighs trembling. You buck your hips, a silent plea for him to give you more. Doc chuckles, withdrawing his face from your needy pussy. Your desperate cry is muffled. “Be patient, kitten. I’ve waited too… look what you’ve done to me.”

Clenching his free hand around his cock, Octavius inhales sharply before pressing it against your wet cunt. He slides his cock between your folds, moving it smoothly thanks to your fluids. Its head touches your clit over and over, electric waves running through your veins from each sloppy thrust. Your nails scratch the wooden surface of the table, your watering Bambi eyes staring right into Octavius’. It takes this mere glance for him to know you want him inside.

“My pet is so eager to take me,” he mutters, guiding himself inside of you. Your tense muscles relaxed briefly when his cock got warmed in the embrace of your walls, fulfilling your burning desire. Octavius’ hand around your mouth tightens to hush you, but your relieved moan is still quite soundly. “Oh, fuck. Fuck. You have the sweetest of the cunts. Has anyone told you that?”

His thrusts are painfully slow, but the motion is meant to be kept once the sound of your skins colliding was a bit too indiscreet. You grind your teeth, considering the idea of being fucked to the whole lab to hear dangerously tempting. Whining, you roll your hips to get Octavius’ attention, who gasps with the unexpected friction. “I know, dear… I know,” he sighs, lowering himself to kiss your temple. “Guess I’ve never taken my time to savor you, did I? Sneaking around made us too brief and rough. Shame on me.”

Doc unclasps the grip on your mouth, and you instantaneously gasp for air. Before you can say anything, though, his lips are crushed against yours. Octavius is demanding, his tongue hovers above yours and sets the dominance, twirling inside your mouth and swallowing your moans.You bring your legs to surround his waist, embracing it and bringing him closer to you. His thrusts now are deeper with each move from his hips, settling the pace which he follows with his tongue.

The slow pace goes from excruciating to voluptuous, reaching a sweet spot inside of you. Your moans echo through your chest, reverberating on Octavius' throat. Not only your legs, but now your arms embrace the Doctor’s frame, holding tightly on him as if your life depended on it. He parts the kiss to catch his breath, resting his forehead on top of yours. “Hush, kitten. You are doing so well… I’ll fill you with my cum in no time. ”

You shiver, the expectation bubbling in your stomach sending waves of blazing pleasure all over your body. The flames once licking your lower stomach were now crackling all over your body, announcing how closer you were to your high. You let your head fall back, landing smoothly on the table under you.

Octavius takes it as an advantage to maintain his control over you, keeping you pinned to the table by catching your throat between his fingers. You swallow thick, feeling a knot in your stomach slowly loosen… the overwhelming bliss pokes the deepest part of you, a slight warning it was about to erupt.

“Doctor Octavius…” your voice feels distant when you call for him, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. “I… I think I…”

“Shhh. It’s Otto, darling. I wanna hear you calling me Otto when you cum on my cock.”

You barely have the strength to nod as Doc places his thumb on your clit, rubbing it delicately in circular motions. The calloused skin brushing on your most sensitive nerves is enough to send a last shiver down your spine, which causes a heavy trembling from your head to toe. You hug Otto tightly when your orgasm collapses over you body, whispering his name over and over right in his ear. At first, it’s desperate. Then feverly passionate. It’s a prayer, a plea… your end and your beginning. Your everything.

Numb with pleasure, your mind goes blank as your walls clenched tightly around him. When you went down from your high, a panting and sweaty mess, Otto is digging his fingers on your buttcheeks as he finds the way to his own release. It’s another shot of ecstasy hitting you with no mercy. You squeeze your mouth shut as, satisfying his later promise, he fills you with his cum.

Still buried inside of you, Doctor Octavius kisses all the way to your shoulders through your collarbone. His soothing lips smooch all the dark bruises marked on your skin before they capture your mouth, kissing you with no rush. His fingertips gently caress your scalp, then your back, moving to your chest to cup your breasts. You can feel him smiling through the kiss, really taking his time to savor you...

You’re the one to part, running your thumb over his lower lip slowly to smooth the small bite you just gave it. You raise your eyes to meet his, feeling your heartbeat faster with how tenderly he was looking down at you...

“I love you.”

You blink. Repeatedly. Did you just hear him say…?

“Wait… what?!”

“I love you,” he repeated, smiling from ear to ear. “Dearly. I want to make you mine not only between those walls... I want you to be Y/N Octavius, you silly pretty thing. I love you. Just as much as you love me. And I knew it. All this time… I just wanted to hear you say it. I needed to be sure. Pardon me for…"

“I love you too,” you cut him off, breathlessly. If this was some sort of dream, you wish you’d never wake up.

A/N: my second smut, yay! So, I had this first idea... which I had completely changed so maybe this piece only makes sense in my head? *faints* Feedback is always welcome and PLEASE give feedback I love to talk plus I am the most insecure petite thing you'll ever meet so- feedback. 🐱

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iron--spider · 4 years

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you’re as good as it gets

“Whoever would have thought Peter would replace me?” Tony asks, peering over at Pepper as they set the table. “I guess I should have. I guess I should have seen it coming. I’m not as cool as I once was.”

“I am going to record you,” Pepper says, glancing up as she sets the silverware down. “And then I am going to send the videos to Peter, whenever you do this.”

“Good,” Tony says. “Then maybe he’ll see how much he’s hurting his old man—” Pepper starts coming at him with the dish towel, and Tony laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Sort of.”

“This is what you wanted him to do, right?” she asks, bracing her hand on the chair and looking at him. “This Octavius guy, doing this with him gets Peter college credit?”

“The class does,” Tony says, chewing on a toothpick. “The working with him thing is a whole different...thing.”

“He’s just living his life,” Pepper says, and she’s looking at him sadly now, like she might get it. “Getting better after everything he’s gone through. You know he’s not actually replacing you, he’s just—”

“No, I know,” Tony says, laughing a little bit. “I know. I’m just being dramatic. To irritate you.”

“Mhm. Easily done.”

Tony doesn’t know much about Otto Octavius. Well, he knows everything he learned after he heavily, heavily researched him when Peter started working with him in his lab on the weekends. But, he doesn’t know Octavius as a person, and he doesn’t hardly trust anybody with Peter, even people he trusts. Logically, this is a good thing. Peter’s preparing for college. He’s getting back into the groove of things after...all the bullshit. He was having a hard time with it, for a while. Being gone for five years. His life upended. Tony nearly dying in front of him and losing an arm as a result of the near death. So Tony knows this is good. The kid’s moving on.

He’s moving on?

He’s moving...on.

Tony’s had a lot of people move on from him. He expects it. He expects every day for Pepper to up and leave, for Morgan to pack up her little pink Hello Kitty suitcase and disappear in the wind. Rhodey never picking up his calls again. Happy slamming the door in his face. All of them would probably beat the shit out of him if they knew he still thought that way, but it’s so ingrained in him that it’s hard to push it back.

He knows it would piss Peter off too. So Tony never says anything to him about his own dumb shit or his worries or his occasional loneliness, despite his firecracker of a daughter who’s been dressing up in Spider-Man costumes lately. But Tony misses Peter. And feels a dumb tinge of jealousy knowing he’s learning and growing with some other asshole scientist mentor guy. Tony is supposed to be the only asshole scientist mentor guy in his life.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

“Speak of the devil,” Tony says, opening up Peter’s message.

“See, there you go,” Pepper says, laying out napkins. “He wouldn’t be messaging you if he’d replaced you. He’s too polite for that.”

The message is a photo—a billboard of Tony himself, the kind of shit that started cropping up everywhere after everyone found out what he did. Suited up, sans helmet, staring upwards with a look of determination and grit on his face, like some kind of stained glass church art. Peter is in the foreground, both eyebrows raised, and it’s captioned “TONY ARE YOU STALKING ME?”

“What a nerd,” Tony says, full of fondness.

“Make sure he knows he’s coming for movie night tomorrow or Morgan will never forgive him,” Pepper says.

“Noted,” Tony says, crafting a reply.

A couple days later Tony is falling asleep sitting up in the workshop, still analyzing the layout for the new bot he’s creating to accompany DUM-E and U. He’s seen Peter a couple times in the past week, but the kid looks more worn out than normal with every new day that passes. Tony had texted a bit with May, trying not to worry, but that’s practically his every day state of mind, especially when it comes to his kids.

His kids. Plural. Two. How long has he been thinking about Peter like that? One of his own. Since before the end of the world? During, while he was gone, when there were things Tony couldn’t change, when the world was so heavy that he had to remove himself from it? When his failure loomed in front of him like a crumbling shadow, the darkness drawing all the light away from him?

Was it then? Or was it when he saw the kid on their newfound battlefield, like a memory of a lifetime past, an impossible miracle? Talking and talking and talking like he used to?

Tony leans forward and braces his elbows on the table, digging his thumbs into his eyes, nearly poking his own fucking eye out with his new titanium alloy thumb. It’s been a while and he’s still not used to the new arm. How it looks, how it feels, what other people think. An eternal reminder, just like the arc reactor was. Once again, he’s marked.

He’s about to call it a night when his phone starts ringing.

Peter.

It’s after midnight, and yeah, he’s gotten calls from Peter at all hours of the night, but usually, it’s when he’s in trouble.

Tony answers fast. “Hey buddy,” he says. “You okay?”

Peter’s breath is coming fast, and he doesn’t say anything for a moment.

Tony sits up straighter, eyes intent. “Peter, what’s going on?” he asks. “Talk to me.”

“I—I, I—I made a bad decision. I didn’t know. I didn’t—I didn’t know. Help me.”

Tony nearly leaps to his feet. Help me. Not I need help. Just help me. “Where are you?” he asks. “What happened? Who did this, what’s going on?”

“I’m in—I’m in the suit,” Peter says, and Tony doesn’t know if he’s ever heard him sound like this. Only in the moment he knew he was dying. Or when he thought Tony was.

“I’ll track you, are you safe?” Tony asks, getting up and sweeping towards the exit, a tension headache spreading across his forehead. “Can you stay where you are?”

“I’ll—I’ll stay close to where I am, it should be—should be okay, but I don’t know, I don’t know.” His voice breaks and he sucks in a few gasping breaths. “I can’t think. I can’t—help me, please, I messed up, I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m coming, I’m on my way,” Tony says, trembling now, himself, trying to summon the kind of strength that whatever this is needs. “Stay on the line with me, Pete. I’ve got you, just stay there.” He grabs his earpiece on the way out, activating it.

“Friday, track Peter and give me the fastest possible routes to get to him,” Tony says, starting up the stairs.

He hasn’t had a suit on in almost a year. He hasn’t felt strong enough, safe enough, and the others have been covering it. It, the royal It, everything that needed to be done. Tony did what he could and it wound up well, and after that, nobody’s needed Iron Man.

But Peter needs him now.

Tony can barely get him to talk while he’s on his way over, and that terrifies Tony even more—just short, clipped answers, wavering breathing, and it sounds like a panic attack. But Peter doesn’t seem to hear him, when Tony tries to talk him through it. He’s faraway in his head, too.

Tony finally finds him in an unused tunnel in Harlem, and getting over there without drawing a crowd is more difficult than Tony would have liked. But Friday finds him the way in that Peter must have found, and it’s like dropping directly into a horror movie. Quiet, echoes, dripping.

Peter crying.

He’s sitting there, against the wall, his mask balled up beside him. This place is dirty and abandoned, and he looks too bright and vibrant to be here. Even in the state he’s in.

Tony lets the nanos crawl back into the housing unit and he rushes over to him, kneeling by his side. He glances up, briefly, to make sure no one is keeping him here, that this isn’t a trap, but he doesn’t see anything anywhere. He hopes Friday would alert him to anything like that.

“Hey, hey, okay,” Tony says, one hand on Peter’s shoulder, the other tipping his chin up. “Here I am, okay? What happened? What’d you do? I’m sure whatever it is, not your fault, we can fix it. We can fix it, together, no problem, kid. You know how much shit I’ve messed up and thought was beyond repair? Plenty. I always fix it, and we’re gonna fix this too.”

Peter’s eyes finally focus on him, red-rimmed, and he shakes his head. He shudders to his feet, bracing his hand on the wall behind him, and he nearly falls before Tony grabs him and steadies him.

“Otto,” Peter says, sniffling. “Doctor Octavius. He, he, he—he’s a bad guy, Tony, he’s—I’ve been helping him invent things and working on his specs and I’ve been helping him with all this stuff for months and months and he’s using it to hurt people, to commit crimes. He’s got—an entire team of guys, and I didn’t even mean to find them but I found them, tonight, they’re all these costumed villains, they were—they were working with the Rhino, that big guy I put away last month—”

“Yeah, I remember,” Tony says, still holding onto him.

“The police thought he had people behind him, more—more powerful people, but tonight I went after these guys that had robbed a bank on 4th street and I webbed up one of them but the other got away and I followed him—but I realized he was leading me somewhere bigger, and there were—Tony, he was there, Otto, he was in charge—he’s using these—these arms, they look like octopus arms, and I, I—I’m the one that helped—I helped him, I helped him with those—with those specs—”

He covers his mouth, shaking his head, and before Tony can think about hugging him he steps forward and buries his face in Tony’s shoulder.

Peter keeps talking, muffled. “He’s responsible—his group, these people, they’re responsible for so, so much—shit—countless robberies, kidnappings, that—that explosion, at that office building, that happened—that happened in July, that was them, Tony, and people died, and I—and I’ve been—working with him since June—”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Tony whispers, holding onto him.

Peter gasps, sounds like he’s gonna start choking, and he claws at Tony’s shoulders. “I should have—realized, I should have known, some—somehow, figured it out, realized, but he—he acted so, so normal, with me, and I thought he was—I thought he was doing something—good, but he’s—he’s not—”

“And you’re sure—”

“I’m sure,” Peter whispers, wounded. “Positive. And I—they were picking up and moving their—base and I was—freaking out too much to even—follow—keep track—”

“Shh, relax,” Tony whispers, ruffling Peter’s hair. “Relax, breathe.”

Peter stops talking, but his breathing is labored, and he’s holding on tight.

“The guy that got away, that led you to all this, did he know you were following him? Did he know what you saw?”

“Don’t think so,” Peter says. He shakes his head. “I should never have—even taken that course, with Otto, let alone started—working with him. I made a bad decision, a—a stupid decision. May is gonna be so disappointed in me. And I know...I know you don’t like him.”

Tony scoffs, still rocking them back and forth, gently. “I didn’t not—listen, one, May can never be disappointed in you. Please. And me, I’m just—I’m just jealous. I wanna work with you, I wanna hoard you, and that’s selfish of me, whatever. That’s all. But fuck that guy, now I have a reason to hate him. We’re gonna take him down, yeah?” He pulls back, holding Peter by the shoulders. “Yeah?”

Peter looks positively fucking miserable, but thankfully, uninjured. “I’ve been helping him, Tony,” he says, dejected. “With...God knows what. The arms, they’re—they were supposed to be for limb replacement, but he’s altered them, and they’re—they look dangerous. He was in charge, he was—with all these criminals, some I’ve seen before, some that have gotten away from me and he was—he was in charge.”

“Listen,” Tony says, stepping a little closer. “I’ve been betrayed before. More than one time. Used for what I know, what I can do. That’s what happened here. Nothing else. You have not and will not ever hurt anybody or anything. You’re a fucking angel, kid, and this does not change that. We’re gonna take care of this. You could do it without me, because you can do anything, but I’m gonna help you every step of the way.”

Peter heaves a sigh, the kind of motion that shows he’s still horrified and put-upon by all this, but relieved that he’s not handling it alone. Tony knows how that is. It’s always easier to have backup, especially when things are personal. They both take things to heart.

Peter moves in and hugs him again. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Nope,” Tony says, automatically, hugging him back. “No reason to be sorry. My least favorite phrase from you.”

“I’m just sorry for everything,” Peter says, voice breaking again. There’s a lot more behind that one, and Tony sighs, rubbing his back.

“Don’t be,” he says. “You’re doing everything right. The world just sucks and good people get taken advantage of. And you’re as good as it gets.”

“But we’re gonna fix it,” Peter says, tentatively, like he’s hoping to believe it.

“Yes,” Tony says, firmly. “We’re gonna fix it.”

#tony stark #peter parker #iron dad #iron man #spider-man #my fics #a little more drama for your mama

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caffeinated-yearning · 4 years

Text

The Start of Something Awful

@werewolfpine said I should post my writing and I’m doing it because I will literally never post unless someone forces me to, here’s a snippet of the lore of How Doc Ock Comes To Be, featuring my/Ock’s actual mind thought mannerisms. Technically this has only my S/I Oliver and Doctor Octavius a little at the front end, because I do my best work when it’s one character who thinks too much.

Word Count: ~1.4k Warnings: Self-harm (minor), queasiness (minor), astonishingly sarcastic narrator voice

“Hoshino.”

Oliver looks up from the box; as much as people focused on biorobotics, he rather preferred the metal things he’d been working on. None of that confusion of the ‘bio’ aspect. Cold techne and cold metal, a perfect compliment to his frozen heart. Looked up at his teacher- professor, Otto Octavius, and said nothing.

“The test results..?”

Of course! How could he possibly forget the mind-crippling endeavor of writing up a lab report for the sake of his dear professor? It would never pass off as science if he didn’t suffer the hideous toil of turning his experiment into a report; let it be known that the gods themselves would forbid anyone to simply look at the raw data and draw their own conclusions- no, he has to bring their attention to that all himself.

Ability to self-replicate- [Y] Hive mind program- [Y] Formation of simple and complex shapes- [Y] Link to human minds- concept phase. Mobile complex shapes- concept only. Modify macro chemicals within human body- tested in organic slurry, dubious results. Anything else that could be interesting- hasn’t been conceptualized yet.

“Would you call it a success?”

“If it teaches something new, it is a success.”

“Then have you been taught anything?”

Oh, doctor, do not pretend! This is all just a reinvention of the wheel at this point. Smaller and still programmable they may be, but these are all things that have been done before. They were done decades ago, before everyone found biological machinery to hold more promise. What then is there to learn? Humans disagree with metal, that has been the lesson. Oliver answers in so dry a tone; “discussion section: page three. Sir.”

“So I read.” Oliver returns his attention to his robots, still attentive to the good doctor’s words; “you sound irritated- both in the paper and at present.”

It is proper to smile and shake his head, to set the doctor’s concerns to rest. He fails this task, and in the same dry tone; “I’m not. I have concerns that this research is dated at best.”

“Then you are-.”

Interrupting, and how uncharacteristic that was- “I don’t have the time to be emotional, in any event.” The professor seemed off-put by that. Indeed, it was rude of Oliver to interrupt; he makes note of that, and fails to realize that describing himself as necessarily emotionless might instead be the reason for the doctor’s discomfort. Even the good Doctor Octavius had room to be emotional when good or ill fortune struck.

There was a pause, a little too long, before the doctor spoke- he’d turned back only to give a half-question; “I trust that you can be left alone in the lab, Oliver?”

“Yes, Dr. Octavius.” Really, this was such a dumb question. Could Oliver be trusted? Of course not; every faculty member would agree, if they only knew the contents of his mind. Which made it a rather good thing, how very skilled in keeping his thoughts under lock and key he was. Not with his friends of course. With friends you were expected to share a certain amount of information, and in turn they shared meaningless data points that helped one curry good favor if one kept it all in mind. What a fun game that was, sifting through all that data and hoping you came across anything of interest.

Ah. And he was alone. The professor had left without him noticing.

“And if I am consumed by the plague I now set loose upon the earth, thus was my fate since the moment I was born; not God nor Man could stop me or my creations; Pandora, I call upon thee.” He was alone, could he not be dramatic? The box was opened, and the robots did... Absolutely nothing.

Oh good, they hadn’t developed sentience while he acted out his drama.

A scalpel he’d pilfered from his sibling on a recent trip home; it was perhaps not the cleanest, but it would serve to sever, given he’d sharpened it against bricks and stones when he’d had a moment to do so. The only issue now was to shut down his self-preservation instincts, which barely allowed a scratch to be made against himself. But not seeing the place he would cut made easier the act, and he cut into the skin that made up the hair line just behind and below his right ear.

The incision was easier than he’d expected, perhaps because it was so much closer to his dreams’ completion than anything else had been before. He pretends to be surprised by the blood, but to what end? No one is around.

He starts his computer up, watches the robots come to life, and opens up the file “Concept_Phase.chk”. Checkpoint reached, your game will now auto-save, he hums; for the first time he feels the striking chill of fear. He thinks perhaps it is the first time in his life, but knows instinctively this cannot be the case. Either way, one error at this point would be so much more devastating.

They were crawling into that bloodied cut now. He should have worn a different shirt, but at least the black on this one might spare the rest from carrying a stain. They were a horrible itching sensation in his skin- he forces his hand stationary, to meddle now is more threatening. It is most threatening; he does not understand the limits of the human body, but he does understand the delicacy of the brain.

And they are in his brain.

That is the most terrifying part of it all, and he suppresses the urge to vomit. Brains are such delicate things and he has put so many bits of metal into his. He suppresses the urge to stand and run from this horrible thing that he has done. He stays stock still, and feels fear in every muscle and every nerve ending of his body.

And they are in his brain.

He woke up, cold, and pushed himself off the floor. Linoleum or plastic tile- didn’t matter, it was cold. He almost felt annoyance- hadn’t he been doing something? It was awfully uncharacteristic of him to sleep in the lab. The computer lab, maybe, but this wasn’t that.

Oh fuck the robots and the cut- he grasps at his neck, drawing his hand away with the full expectation to pull away half-scabbed gunk, or blood still running. Nothing. He sighed. Maybe it was another dream- maybe he was still dreaming. Dreaming of being something worthy of pride and love, instead of the falsehood he’d built himself into. Of being a worthwhile investment on the part of his parents and friends. Of being something better than this, whatever this was.

Log onto his computer- and how very strange! He’d never run the checkpoint file before, if it was a dream, so why was there a .log version now? It was suddenly beginning to feel very much not like a dream. Uneasiness, like so many maggots in his stomach, seemed to eat at him. He reached up and closed the box that had once been the house of his pride, and scanned over the .log file.

Program terminated successfully.

Oh thank the gods and devils both. It was successful.

But they were in his brain, now. Theoretically, he should be able to interact with them, if all had gone according to plan. He tried not to think about how unsanitary last night’s actions were, or rather to think about that instead of the presence of so much non-biological material now swarming around in his skull. He could feel the crawling- the sensation of parasites under his skin, but how much of that was simply psychological? He couldn’t say.

“Not nearly enough time to run any sort of experiment on them,” he sighed; class would begin soon. Sure, he was already in the building, but still. “How disappointing. How many are left in there?” He finally bothered to stand up and check the box; maybe if he… tried to input commands to those ones? There were still plenty in there; doesn’t take that much metal to make a computer chip inside one’s head then.

They stirred, sluggish and confused. They had never moved of their own accord before... Responsive? Again, move again- and they did. They swayed with little ripples, ocean waves almost.

Link to human minds- [Y].

#[[ Human they Say | Oliver Hoshino ]]#byteverse #caffeinated writing #if people want more then they gotta tell me because I will assume 'no' unless told 'yes'#I don't know why it's not tagging byte but

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