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#peter parker x gender neutral!reader
clarks-letterman · 1 year
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lost in reality | perv!peter parker x gender-neutral!reader
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a/n — this is not what i usually post! there was going to be more smut but i didn't know how far to go with it, so if anyone wants to see something more extended, let me know! (Peter is a bit of a perv in this but i tried to make him get his comeuppance) gender-neutral, i think
warnings — smut! 18+, some brief facefucking, gore (sorta mild, but don't read if you don't like it!)
summary — Peter uses the reality stone to practice his pickup skills. With such a powerful device at his disposal, what could go wrong?
words — 3.7k
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A mesh of red and blue ambled to the quarters of the Avenger's compound. No rush nor worry affected Peter as he kept one foot light over the other, heading into each step, furthering him down the hallway. It was another neighborhood saved and another day where he would be free from the thoughts of letting his powers go to waste, and his life could finally regress into normalcy for the start of the new day. While he had a kick in his step from how smoothly the night had gone—and how much his mentor acknowledged the fact—Peter felt the need for something a little more caffeinated to help him instead.
As Peter returned from his latest venture, taking no rush to get to his room, you were on your way out of the resident android's room. In your hand, a pad of Stark Industries-branded notepad paper with all but one of the Avengers' coffee orders scribbled down filled it. You would not be in Vision's room with the question of coffee being the reason, something he was physically incapable of drinking, but Wanda frequented the room, and it was likely that she was in there. You were right to assume that, and now, you planned to check the door just further down the hall to see if Peter was around.
It turned out that you did not need to go far; the bright colors of his suit caught your eye the second you stepped out into the corridor. Anything resembling Peter's mood of being on top of the world was gone, and so was that little kick that pushed him further—you could almost see him lose it in his eyes once he saw you, even from afar. You approached him with one thing on your mind, the pen and paper used to record everyone's order at the ready.
"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."
"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."
"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."
There was an awkward silence between the following words until you reminded him by tapping your pen to the side of the notepad to draw his attention to it and speaking up, "Your order?"
"What?" He was already blowing it. Peter glanced down to his red-spandex feet and then back to you, his voice returning to its natural pitch, "Oh, yeah, uh—"
Peter paused. He realized he did not know what he wanted, and while you found the evident attempt to appear cool somewhat endearing, you could have already been heading out to get coffee for everyone by now. Almost by reflex, you started to tap the pen against the nearly completed list of coffee orders ranging from simple menu items to oddly specific modifications to non-existent drinks. And in seconds, the pen slipped from your grasp and unceremoniously landed on the laminate of the hallway floor.
"Shit," you reached down to grab the ballpoint, but Peter stopped you.
"I'll get it."
He attempted to bend over, only to find his hand stuck to the wall. Peter quickly stood straight, subtly tugging his hand away from the wall without tearing a new hand-shaped hole in the plaster and paint. In his panic, Peter's hand stuck itself to the wall, and no matter how hard he tried to pull away from it, his hand wouldn't budge. That left you to get the dropped pen, reaching for it without the trouble of spider-centric powers messing with you.
You looked to Peter, scribbling down his name next to Tony's order, "I'll just get you what Tony gets and leave you alone with your hand. See you later, Peter."
With that, Peter was left alone and sufficiently embarrassed as you strode down the hall, and, finally, his hand let him free once you were gone. He scuttled to his room in a bout of shame and locked the door, heading to his mirror with a plan to practice asking you out. It was a simple mirror resting on the opposite side of the wall that had betrayed him, even if it was an inanimate object that could neither sway nor influence his spider abilities. He planned on using the reflective rectangular sheet as a stand-in for you but decided to change himself into something that didn't remind him of the awkward encounter he had moments ago.
Now, he stared at himself in the length of the full-body mirror, dressed in a tee sporting Midtown's gold and navy-blue colors and a simple pair of beige cargo pants. It was more on your level, casual clothes that were unlike the striking symbolism of his superhero suit. Peter hoped it would make him feel more comfortable talking to you, as he wouldn't discern the need to be perfect in everything he does around you. He could be Peter.
The first words he spoke to himself in the mirror were natural, not meant to sound broody or cool. It was how he usually talked: voice cracks and diffidence-galore, "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to swing me to get coffee with you?"
Peter realized his slip-up and started the question over again.
"Oh my God, that's so funny that you get coffee!" He placed a hand over his chest with a fake smile to match, "I love caffeine and wanted to know if you would drink me. I mean, drink it with me?"
“Hey, I was just in the neighborhood—saving it, and all. Coffee, you-me? Then, we could come back here for. . .” He paused, knowing that he could never be that smug with you—he could barely get his powers to work! How would the Parker-Charm not blow up on ignition? “Okay, dial it back, Pete.”
"I'm hopeless," Peter let his head fall, staring at the floor. He could hardly watch himself fumble in the mirror, but the glint of a red sheen in the mirror pulled him back—the reality stone, sitting on one of the few bookshelves resting against the walls of his room. This one housed various meticulously assembled Star Wars-themed Lego sets, and the stone quickly became an amenity on the set of Boba Fett's Starship. Could he use it for this, of all things? If he did use it, it would only be for a couple of minutes. For practice, he told himself.
Many people would probably ask why a teenager would have one of the most mighty pieces of rock sitting on a shelf in his bedroom, and well, Peter wouldn't know the answer himself as to why he was allowed to keep it. According to Tony, he was a good kid, and the rest of the team knew he wouldn't use it for anything malicious, like obliterating half of all human existence. So, it was a souvenir, a relic that Peter never utilized for anything apart from letting it be some seriously cool decor and a piece he constantly bragged about to his only two friends.
He turned away from the mirror, retrieved the stone from its entrapment in the plastic bricks, and returned to his full-length reflection. The jagged edges dug into the soft inside of his palm in retaliation to the pressure as he squeezed it with a closed fist. With a single thought—one that held details of nearly everything about you—a soft ring of smoke formed a couple of feet away from him on the carpet. His heart thrummed as it quickly moved upward, revealing your form as it went. After a few moments, the puff of smoke faded as it rounded your head, topping off the manifested version of yourself.
Nothing could compare to the real you, but this was close.
The imagined version of you standing before Peter looked like the spitting image of you, almost to the point where, if dressed the same, it would be impossible to tell the two of you apart. Almost. But, there was one thing that let Peter tell the visually deceitful version of you apart from the real one: he couldn't hear a heartbeat. He figured that, while you looked the same on the outside, the inside was missing a few vital features of the real you.
Regardless, Peter struggled to remember that information since your lesser interpretation was still stunning enough to make his heart sink into the never-ending pit in his stomach. His feelings got the better of him, and Peter started his practice in err from the moment he opened his mouth.
He held the stone tight, waving his other hand to you, "Hey—hi, do you know who I am?"
"Yeah, you're Peter." You stated it as if he should have known that already, and he noted it. From what he could tell, you had at least some part of the memory of your actual self, so maybe this version of you could provide an accurate reaction to asking you to get coffee with him.
"Okay, cool. Cool. Yeah, that's. . . cool," Peter trailed.
"Why do you keep saying cool?"
The only problem was that you were real. Unduly real. Down to the slightest mannerisms that anyone but Peter would be able to catch when they spent time with you, and with your stunning looks and perfect quirks brought about by the stone, Peter could remember everything about you. He could hardly hear the absence of your heartbeat from his' sonority, ultimately distracting himself from his original intent.
"So, what did you wanna ask me?"
"You. . . you ask a lot of questions. But, I wanted to know if you could—"
Peter was finally going to get the words out, albeit to someone who was only pretending to be you. He wouldn't have to worry about finishing that project he procrastinated on—this would be his big success of the day. But his web-shooter had gone off erroneously across the room, spraying against the walls and pouring onto the floor from its canister. He jumped away from the source and nearly dropped the stone in the process.
Peter's mind was fleeting, even his rehearsal was going wrong, and he immediately thought of an old trick for speaking to people that he hadn't needed since a young age—he imagined you in your underwear. He didn't mean for it to happen, but if he thought it, the stone made it a reality for as long as he held the little rock. He watched as a red puff of smoke took your clothes into the air, vanishing from your body in less than a second. Underneath, a simple pair of boxer briefs clung to your nether region. Maybe it wasn’t all about the practice to Peter. His mind had thought of this, so it couldn't be that bad to indulge in it.
"Could you come over here?" He asked, throat dry. He needed to feel you to confirm he had not gone completely insane from one too many hits on the head. Peter defeatedly took a few steps to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. "Please?"
His heart pounded with each step you took, accepting his wish to draw near. Peter could not help but watch your vulnerability follow ostensibly close behind. In just one beat, you stood directly in front of him. He watched your knees rise and fall on either side of his legs as you sat on his thighs. Peter felt the warmth of your presence, the surprising weight of you on his hairless and sinewy thighs, even if you were empty inside.
Peter was bristling, brown eyes wandering over your exposed form. His body felt immovable, no matter how much he wished to drop the stone and watch you vanish. His head was the only thing not to freeze, the rest of his body turning into a well-sculpted monolith. His jaw moved with a bit of tension, "I didn't ask you to do it like this."
"No, but you thought it."
"How did you. . . ?"
"You thought that, too."
Peter realized that he was practically having a conversation with himself, just through the guise of your face. The details became more apparent; the color of your eyes, the set of your mouth, and the same smile lines appeared as he thought about its utter perfection. He connected that now, asking you to come closer only worsened his issue. Your presence over his prominent bulge made it push the limits of its cotton confines. Slowly, his marble arm broke from his reserved mold, and an empty hand cupped your cheek the same way he had always thought about doing it. He would use both, but one was occupied with creating his living dream. Then his hand slid away and around to the back of your neck, your hair brushing his chewed fingernails and overly scraped knuckles.
He knew that guiding you into the kiss was redundant as he could think about it, but this was far more passionate. As he brought you close, the thought of your smell and the feeling of hot breath joining in concordant timing against each other's skin started to fill his head. At the touch of your lips to his, Peter kissed like someone who had nothing to lose. Like he didn't have the responsibility of seeming to have it all together placed foremost. Like he could be a needy and desperate mess for more than a passing swing around New York. Only now, and only because of you.
His impetuous thinking decided that taking care of his problem now would mean that he could resolve everything else later. He needed to take care of it now; it was the only thought running through his head. Desire.
Breaking away, Peter silently commanded you to slide off your boxers and get on your knees. He caught a glimpse of you as you followed his direction, surprised by how his mind subconsciously filled in the gaps for everything he had never seen.
Your hands worked in a way that left their presence unknown until they were hooked into the band of his boxers, easily tugging down on the well-worn stitching to free Peter's springy dick. He watched your eyes ogle it and how you took it into your hand without a second thought, and while he filled your hand well, he couldn't help but think about his inadequacy. He had seen his teammates' sizes after sharing training sessions with them. Not that he was looking on purpose, but mostly out of insecurity. Peter already paled in comparison to the heights and builds of the others, and while he was far from small, they didn't make him look all that great. Peter started to wonder if the stone affected him in the same way it did you.
With a single thought, he decided to test it. He watched his shaft grow bigger and chub up with a thicker girth. Your hand could barely wrap around it as it had with his true size. It felt like an innocuous veneer to gaining the confidence that he never had. As a result, he was eager to get you on him and make you squirm like one of the criminals he spun webs around.
In seconds, your lips formed an imperfect circle and took the head of the arachnid, and the rest of him, as if it were nothing. Your lips brushed his decent smattering of hair around the base of his cock without convulsion. This version of you had a throat that fit around him like a cock-sleeve, hugging his girth without any of the need for restraint.
"No gag reflex? This is better than any toy I ever made."
Peter's hands found their way back to the rear of your head, controlling the pace at which you took him for his own pleasure. The sheer feeling of something far better than lubed-up rubber made him go wild.
At a certain point, he couldn't remember when his mind started to break reality further than he thought until he was suddenly yanked back to it. Peter started to feel effervescent guilt towards his actions. This is what he wanted, but not how he wanted to get it. Quickly, Peter felt the heavy weight on his chest return, the need to right himself by putting an end to this. He hated that he changed himself to impress something that wasn't even you. He wondered what his mentor would think, what you would think, or how you would react. A small shift inside him sent that weight toward his hand, the one he held the stone in, and it went from its dormant glim keeping the illusion alive to a bright shine, creating something new.
"Get off, get off, please," Peter asked, thinking the words in his head as hard as he could to free himself from his twisted fantasy. You let his stiff, unrelieved dick pop out of your mouth and got off your knees.
"What's wrong, Peter?" He had thought that, too. What was wrong with him?
He could barely stand to face you, but he needed to acknowledge you to make you leave. When he did work up the nerve to look in your direction, the guilt glared back at him. He felt like a creepy monster for even thinking it was a good idea to give in to his urges. The feeling overtook him so much that he didn't even realize your gradual change.
At first, it was your face. The pleasureful expression turned into a sour one, eyebrows funneling together and your upper lip upturned. But, the features of your face pressed forward as if they were made of putty and someone was trying to claw their way out. They stretched out and ballooned until they burst, leaving you headless. Your body went without a head for a few seconds before the more seasoned details of his mentor formed in your absence.
He kept his hand flat, wicking it away from his body and the rest of his arm with the hope that the stone would fall off, but his powers had already made that choice for him. Then, he thought of his suit, his web-shooters, and the communicator that could signal Tony. If he drew attention to the issue, it would resolve itself, but could he successfully explain everything as if it were the typical morning paper arriving at the doorstep? He could try, or at the very least, lie. But that would never solve this issue, though, not in the long run.
Peter formed a mental map of the fastest route to his closet in his head and decided that his backup web-shooters might be strong enough to hold the illusion down and give him time to pry the stone from his nonreciprocating palm. He turned, locking eyes with the monster as it started changing again.
Peter looked on in horror, the stone shining its brightest and shading the monster in terrifying red like a stop sign you see at the last minute when your heart sinks at the thought of being crushed. The soft tear of wet, stretching flesh and its stringy reformation flushed his ears as the beast before him grew. The harsh snap and sound of bones splintering from the fattening weight pierced his sensitive ears; nothing new to him at this point in his life, but he had never heard so many cracks and gushing wounds. Yet, through all the bodily changes, Peter never broke his stare with the amalgamation of his worst thoughts. Its eyes never left him, either. The cold and frighteningly dead stare of non-existent emotion didn't phase him until he heard a heartbeat, one that he believed came from the creature itself.
However, it wasn't the monster's—it was yours, heavy-thudded blood-pumping. The real you and your usually pleasant voice calling for his response. From the other side of the door, he heard you pleading for him to answer and affirm that he was okay. He figured that you must have overheard his distress and the ensuing raucous.
Peter reached for the stone but stopped. Everything was gone. His suit still sat in a messy pile on the floor, but the webbing was gone from the walls. The stain on the carpet was no longer there, and his pants were the only thing absent from his body, but nothing left the confines of his boxers. Had all of it really been in his head?
He quickly answered the door without any precaution, seeing your face still intact.
"Hey, I got you something different than Tony's. I was in line and remembered when you drank out of his cup by mistake and spat it all over the counter. Are you okay? I thought I heard a girl screaming."
“Thank you, and it wasn't a. . . never mind. Do you want to come in and hang?”
“Yeah! But get some pants on first, Spidey. I can't have my thoughts get to me.”
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borhapparker · 1 year
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since your requests are opened... maybe peter parker having a polaroid camera (or a disposable camera) and constantly taking pictures of you both together and some of just you and then compiling it all for you for an occasion or after a fight 🥺🥺🥺 and iDK IT MAKES YOU FALL IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN
this is adorable!! (also i'm back hehe)
send requests here! (now accepting stranger things characters!)
buy me a coffee! / request a commission
Peter had always loved photography. It had been a passion passed down from his father, then uncle, and now he held the camera in his hands, having captured memories over decades. He never had a reason to use it other than to fool around while on patrol, until he met you.
You were a work of art to him, something to admire, something to photograph occasionally. He had asked you out after you partnered with him for a photography assignment, a candid of you laughing caught by Peter with a note under that said "Will you be mine?"
Cheesy, you will admit, but you loved it. That was one of the things you loved about Peter, along with his photography skills, it was like having the ultimate significant other. He could capture your good side and compliment it, but also your 'bad side' (as you put it), and still be called beautiful because in his eyes you were.
There was never a time, whether you were on a date with Peter, in class or just studying at your apartment, he always had his camera with him. He never let you see the film or answered your question as to what he was photographing. He always just smiled and shrugged.
Sometimes you thought he was married to the camera, taking it everywhere with him, even if it was just a quick trip to the grocery store. And when it broke that one time he took it on patrol, you made sure to get him a replacement the very next day.
Both of you were calm together, loving and never getting into arguments. But when there was an occasional argument, it was important, and something the two of you had to address.
"Here's the thing, Peter, you can't just schedule a date with me and bail on me last minute. Yes, you may be a superhero, but you still have your life outside the suit."
"Look, babe, I swear it wasn't on purpose. I wasn't even going to bring the suit with me until my senses kicked in." he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, "I wanted to go out with you, I swear, time just got away from me."
"That's not the first time you've used that excuse. Peter, I'm getting sick of this. How are we going to make this work if I'm always going to be second in your life?"
"You are always first on my list, I promise. This is the last time, I promise it won't happen again. We can go again tomorrow, re-do our date, and go out together."
"I don't want a do-over, I wanted the date today. I'm done waiting, Peter. I need someone who wants to be with me no matter the circumstance. How can I be sure that's you?"
"Let me make it up to you, please. Baby, give me another chance."
Walking out of the apartment, your eyes burned, tears pooling and blurring your vision. Wiping away the stray ones, you headed on the bus, taking the route straight home, wanting nothing but to be alone.
Your keychain clinked with the pressure you placed on turning the key as you walked into your apartment, breathing in the comfort of your own home. Locking the door behind you, you made your way to your room, as you opened the door and gasped.
On your bed, and the floor, were countless polaroids, all spread out. Each of them is a different picture of you, some candids and some from a photoshoot, and others of you and Peter together. Tears brimmed your eyes as you picked one up and examined it, recognizing the date immediately before turning the polaroid to verify the date scribbled behind in your handwriting. March 15, 2016
It had been your first date with Peter, one you had actually asked him on as you didn't want to wait anymore for the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation with the loving nerd in school. You were surprised when he said yes, and even more so when he still showed up at the diner, hair messy and panting like crazy, but he was there.
Picking up another polaroid, you noticed the handwriting on each of the polaroids, your pet names decorated the front trim of the picture. You had fallen for him because of his love of people and photography. He always told you never to look at the film and pocketed it before you were able to see it.
Yet, even with the argument you had with Peter earlier, nothing could stop you from forgiving him in a heartbeat, and maybe even falling for him just a little more.
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hellsburners · 6 months
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stumblin' back to bed
summary: peter's partner is very drunk and very clingy pairing: tasm!peter parker x gender neutral reader word count: 1.2k warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk reader, some kissing, mentions of sex, slight smut a/n: from another lovely request! (btw this is a scheduled post im on a semi-hiatus rn bcs life)
masterlist | more peter parker
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Peter kisses you with your back against the door. His hands cupped your face as you cling on his shirt. His lightly stubbled face pricks your cheeks while his warm lips weave into yours, tongues dipping into each other—the hallway filled with the sound of sloppy kisses, some whimpering as your centers rub. 
“Let’s get in first,” he said, fumbling for his house keys. 
You stood beside him, the floor spinning around, your head confused. The alcohol had done its magic, your gait was funny, your joints loose, and you almost fell before entering his apartment. 
“Woah, those tequila shots were something—,” you slurred, Peter held onto you for stability. 
You grabbed him by his belt loops for another kiss, like your own personal bottle of liquor, you took Peter Parker’s lips like the freshest glass of tequila, bitter and addicting. You stumbled to his kitchen counter, he lifted you so you were sitting on it, your legs on his hips. 
“I need some water,” he said in between kisses. He pulls away, much to your dismay, to grab a glass. “Want some?” you shook your head, your head still spinning. 
He comes back to you, his head mounted on your neck, sucking and kissing, leaving marks. His hands roam your back, large hands warm on your cold skin. Your hands roam his torso, feeling his muscled abdomen until you reach the barrier between his skin and underwear. Later, your touch fell to his growing hardness. 
“Woah—baby,” he moaned. 
“Fuck, Peter it’s so hard,” you ached. 
“Only for you—” he whimpered, nibbling on your neck. His hands came to cup your ass, pulling you in so your crotch rubbed on his. He started to hump in between your legs, using the friction for pleasure. Your fingers trail through his soft brown hair taking in his scent, a mix of alcohol and musk. 
“The room is spinning like crazy,” you said. You felt yourself become more sensitive, the hairs on your skin erecting, his mere touch made you shudder. 
“We can stop,” he lets out. 
“No. Don’t stop—,” you gasped, his hand going underneath your underwear to touch your sex. You moaned from his fingers, moving so gracefully to pleasure you. He pulls back but you wrap your legs around him pulling him in. Your hands find his neck, pulling him from there as well. 
“Let’s take this to the couch—more comfy.”
You move on his couch, straddling him. The two of you are in the middle of a heated make-out session before you feel your stomach turn, and bile rising to your throat. You suddenly pulled back, covering your mouth. Peter sat there confused. Your body shuddered as you made a gagging sound. 
“Oh god, let’s get you to the toilet,” he said. You refused, waving your hands. 
“I’m fine.”
“Water then? Let me get you a glass,” he said. You later took the drink, downing the water alleviating some of the dizziness and the gagging. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I promise babe I’m good.”
“Let’s go to bed then,” he pleads. 
“I’m fine!” your words start to slur again. He pulls you to the bedroom, the sudden change in speed almost made you throw up. He sits you down on the bed to get you a change of clothes.
He kisses you again, “I’m not fucking you like this, too messy.” 
He hands you a cold glass of water. You chug on the liquid like a parched dog, the cooling sensation tracing down your warm throat. 
He takes the empty glass, your body swaying loosely. You look up at him, lips pouting. He looks down on you with a smile, stroking your hair before your body betrays you, eyes going dark as you fall back on the soft sheets. 
——————
You wake up to the smell of bacon. You check to see your clothes changed to a pair of trainer shorts and a Star Wars graphic tee. Your breath reeked of alcohol as you let out a yawn. 
You check to see Peter standing near the stove, his torso bare with only his boxers on. His hands skillfully flipping bacon and eggs on a greasy pan. 
“Hey handsome,” you called out. 
He turns around, a smile plastered on his face. His arms spread wide to take you in his arms. His skin was warm against yours, your cheek flush against his chest. 
“You slept well?” he asked. “You were knocked out good.” 
“Oh god, that bad huh?” you gasped. He places a kiss on your forehead, hands through your hair again patting it over and over. 
“Yeah, you said something about how madly and deeply in love you are with me and how you wanted me to and I quote stuff you up.”
“I did not!” you hit his chest with the base of your fist. He laughs hysterically. 
Smoke started to gather behind him, and the smell of charred meat started to fill the room. The two of you checked to see the bacon starting to turn black. “Shit. shit. shit!”
Breakfast was spoiled. Peter tried to salvage it but those were the last pieces. He tried to look for anything in his cupboard to eat but he found nothing. 
“It’s alright Pete,” you coo, smoothing his back
“It was supposed to be a perfect breakfast!” 
“Well, we could have something else,” your hand traced down his spine, teasing the edge of his boxers. 
“Oh,” you pin his back on the kitchen counter, pulling his underwear after. His hard cock springs free, aching red. 
You look up at him with the same pleading gaze from last night, slowly inching your lips closer to his tip. You gave it a few licks, your wet tongue dragging on his frenulum, Peter’s body heaved from the pleasure. 
His grip on your head was getting tighter, guiding your mouth as it bobbed on his cock. The thick shaft rubbed smoothly on the flat of your tongue, the head barely hitting the roof of your mouth. 
You hollow your cheeks to create more suction, Peter lets out a groan, his head falling back. You held onto his thighs, your neck pulling back to suck up to his sensitive tip. A string of clear liquid connects your lips to his sex. 
“You’re so good, baby,” he moaned. “Taking me so well.” 
Sweat trickles down from his forehead to his toned abdomen, your fingers tracing the lines to his sparse hair near his belly leading to his crotch. 
Your other hand went to stroke the remaining length of his cock, the combined sensation led Peter to the edge. He was a panting mess, chest heaving, toes curling, his long fingers digging into your scalp.
“I’m gonna—“ he gasps, cum shooting down your throat. His body convulsed as you held your stance, tears forming in your eyes as he fucked into your mouth. 
You stood up to wipe the spit all over your lips and pecked Peter’s lips. “So what’s good food around here?” 
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pixiexdusts-world · 8 months
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Incorrect quote
Tony: Y/n... How do I begin to explain Y/n?
Bucky: Y/n is flawless.
Natasha: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000.
Steve: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan.
Peter: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.
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sergeanttpoliteness · 10 months
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sooo.. no idea how old the post was, but if your req are still open, Wholesome Spider Noir? 0u0
hello, love! not sure which post you're talking about, but the last time i posted a story was in 2020, so it's surely been a while, lmao. to be honest with you all, my days of writing for marvel are coming to an end, but when i saw this ask, i thought i'd post something in honor of the sequel of the movie that started it all, since this blog will forever mean a lot to me. thank you for this request, i hope it's enough <3
--------
Peter watches you now, as you wash the dishes and pass them to him to dry, lather covering your hands and forearms. You nearly drop and break a ceramic plate in the sink, and your humming to a song stuck in your head is replaced by small giggles.
He worries you’ll never know how much he truly loves you.
He knows you understand how tough it can be for him sometimes to be as open and vulnerable. Tribulations and heartache forged his heart, painted his soul a deep blue— like fierce, destructive ocean waves during a violent storm. You’ve reassured him countless times, yet after everything he’s seen, his brain struggles to accept there can exist someone so gentle, so angelic. As war and bloodshed explode around him, you’re like a flower blooming in between the broken concrete—  beauty amidst the foulness.
You wash the soap off your skin, and when you close the faucet, Peter immediately reaches for your wet hands and gently dries them with the kitchen towel. You chuckle. “You’re supposed to dry the dishes— not my hands.”
At the sight of your grin that reaches your eyes, he smiles. So many words, so many languages, so many smiles, and touches of lips, yet neither could ever fully convey this glow in his chest. So many universes, worlds, and people that have entered his life and that he will happen upon, yet he’ll always choose to be here with you. 
He calls your name. It’s an incantation that illuminates his chest and seeps into his surroundings, painting over the blue with glimmering gold. It helps him believe he won’t forever be damaged. No, he can also be the sunlight filtering through the heavy clouds and smoke, caressing the flower. 
Instead of the towel, Peter’s hands now brush against your skin, fingers trailing down your forearms, wrists, and knuckles until he places his palms flat against yours. He reaches down and plants a tender kiss on your forehead, lips lingering for a while. When he pulls away from you, heart racing, he prays you understand.
Your eyes soften, your fingers interlocking with his. 
“I know. I love you, too.”
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crimsonbubble · 8 months
Note
dom! peter who praises and talks you through it, with dom! miguel who degrades, telling you why you deserve it?
cw. nsfw, gn!reader, praise, degradation, overstimulation *not proofread, just pure horny
[ive written so much for spiderdads x reader and they're so WKMDXNSKSMS]
MINORS DNI!!
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i ♡ dilfs
I've said this before and I will say it again, they compliment each other sO WELL
the usual gentle coos and caresses from peter mix so good with the sharp rasps and rough hands from miguel
things like this from peter;
"there we go, sweetheart."
"doing such a good job, baby."
"a little more for me, yea?"
"it's alright, honey. you can do it."
to things like this from miguel;
"making such a fucking mess."
"aww, is my little whore too sensitive?"
responds to you cries of "miggy, I cant-" with "you can and will, baby."
miguel turning your face back to him when you look over at peter bc he's overstimulating you beyond comprehension
"don't look at him. he's not gonna help you." while rutting into you even harder
peter just pushes the hair out of your face before his hand slips down to flick over your clit
peter can get almost as mean as miguel but he thinks that might be a bit much
but every once in a while, he's just that delicious bittersweet tang of mean
the only time he'll get actually mean, is when he's beyond frustrated
like you're the first thing he sees that h can release his anger out on
he's ruthless when he's like that
but there's something so good about a usually calm and kind man going feral and just absolutely decimating their partner with a multitude of orgasms
just losing themselves and sinking into the being of their partner
but the aftercare is top tier chefs kiss 🤌
warm baths, soft scents, cuddles, and kisses
wearing one of their shirts to bed too
okok that's enough rambling for this 🫣
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madschiavelique · 8 months
Note
GOD I AM SO FERAL FOR SUB!READER W/ MIGUEL AND PETER (im so sorry for the all caps its how I show my enthusiasm 😭😭) but I rlly wanna see the yandere hcs ,,
SO AM I BESTIE SO AM I
headcanon : yandere!miguel o'hara x reader x yandere!peter b parker content warnings : yandere content, mention of violence (miguel and peter killing torturing and killing someone), reader being injured, peter and miguel are really manipulative in this, genderneutral!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 1,4k tag list : @fandom-ash
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firstly, they'd had their eye on you for some time now
you were a much-loved spider, and everywhere you went people were smiling and complimenting you, not so much for what you did as a spider, but because you had such a delightful personality
you'd only recently made your debut with the Spider Society, and Peter and Miguel in turn seemed to slowly fall under your spell
peter came to see you regularly to check up on you, and Miguel called you more often to get more details about your reports
then one day Miguel started keeping a tab open on the side of his business activities with your locations backed up by surveillance cameras
obtaining a watch for you had turned out to be the quickest watch delegation in Spider Socety's history
the attraction they felt for you was becoming far too great to ignore, even for the workaholic Miguel, who thinks of nothing else but the maintenance and balance of the universe
peter had been following you around the society from higher up, and one day he noticed something that he immediately reported to Miguel: you were starting to see another spider on a regular basis.
he was such a lesser guy than Miguel and Peter that they wondered how you could have even crossed his path
you started greeting him every day, laughing with him, joking around, and they watched from afar
well, as long as you were just friends, there shouldn't be any problem, right?
but just as Peter was coming to eat with you in the cafeteria, the notorious undesirable individual showed up and sat down next to you.
too close, Peter thought. How could you smile at him, laugh at his jokes?
and what he saw made his jaw clench: the spider's hand caressed your cheek
how could he breathe the same air as you?
miguel had obviously seen the whole scene from the security screens, and he'd nearly smashed one of the desks
the next day, when you ventured to the cafeteria as usual, you didn't find your spider in your usual spot
strange, he never failed to find you here, but instead you found Miguel and Peter, coming to sit with them.
when you asked them if they'd seen him, they replied that he had some business in his own reality that required him to stay away from the Society for a while
of course, they would never tell you how slow and painful his death had been
as the months passed, you inevitably grew closer to Miguel and Peter. Since they were gradually pushing every one of your friends and acquaintances away from you, they were the only ones left.
you visited them more frequently, sometimes just keeping them company while they took care of reports.
you had become an inseparable trio, and not a day went by when you weren't with them.
in fact, they started gaining new habits such like showering you with gifts
everything they do to make sure you're comfortable enough to never ever think of leaving them is pretty amazing
(as if you had a choice to leave anyway)
saw a new cute little top that you like? already yours
it was almost uncanny how much they observed the details in your behavior
sometimes you'd simply walk past something, your gaze lingering on it for a few seconds longer than you'd normally wear it out, and the same day you'd find yourself with it in your hands
because let's be honest, they're extremely rich.
The technological advances Miguel had brought to the entire dimension had made him rich for the rest of his life and beyond, so he had no worries about covering you in anything you wanted.
and as for Peter, you weren't sure how he managed it, but what you were sure of was that he, too, had no financial worries
they were becoming a little more tactile too
peter took your hand in his, caressing your back and cheek gently, while Miguel had got into the habit of having you sit against him while he worked
your whole day consisted of keeping them company, but you had duties as a citizen of the Society
however, since they ran the Society, they could change the rules just for you right ?
it had started slowly, with them preventing you from going on missions and putting other spiders on the job
but your spider instincts soon kicked in, and you insisted on going on the mission
so they had a silent agreement that their eyes exchanged and managed to find an anomaly that was far too tough, sending you out in its dimension, alone, supervising you with the security screens
the anomaly was horrible, far too fast for you, far too powerful, far too cruel. It wounded you with terrible ease, while you struggled to even scratch it.
you found yourself in a corner, at the mercy of the anomaly, and of course, absolute fear gripped you along with the panic of not getting out of there
you screamed repeatedly for them to come and get you, as the anomaly was closing in fast, but they needed you to understand. you were completely weakened and scared you'd never be able to finish this fight, tears streaming down your cheeks as you called out to them, and they finally arrived.
they quickly took care of the anomaly, then came back to you, sobbing and shaking in the corner. they took you in their arms, cuddling you gently, whispering "now you see why we don't want to send you on a mission? it's far too dangerous, do you understand?"
you had to go through a painful little lesson to realize how much you needed them, didn't you?
they took you back to the infirmary, where they remained at your bedside until your recovery was complete
since then, you've never been on a mission again
you were a little bit too traumatized by the experience, and they'd managed to make sure that they were the only people you could turn to in case of trouble
so they offered to let you live in their apartment so they could be ready to provide for your every need, which you accepted. and on the very day of the offer, you moved in with them - they'd already had a room ready for you about a month before
it wasn't long before the three of you were growing closer together - which is, of course, somewhat inevitable when three people live together
the looks Miguel and Peter sometimes shared when they saw you were full of pride and mischief
they frequently exchanged them. when you'd come out of the shower for instance, when they'd deliberately remove your clothes from the bathroom while you were showering to see you dressed only with a towel to look for clothes - it always ended up with Miguel and Peter making you wear clothes of their choice
soon enough, you were an official trouple
from then on, you'd always have something on you to show that you belonged together: a necklace, a bracelet, you'd wear one of their t-shirts-
speaking of which, the first time they saw you wearing one of their T-shirts, they froze in their tracks while you simply went about your life in the apartment
you didn't go out for a week after that. the reason? there were several, such as the fact that, obviously, as beautiful as you were in their clothes, they couldn't allow anyone but themselves to see you like that, but also, and above all, because you hadn't been able to walk properly all week...
once you'd had the misfortune to go out without telling them, just to buy ingredients for cookies to make them a treat, and they'd moved heaven and earth to find you until you came home like a flower.
you'd been badly scolded. what if something had happened to you and they hadn't been able to get there in time to help? what if someone came to you and asked you to do a job for them that you couldn't refuse? What if someone was mean to you?
their anger had frightened you terribly, and you'd ended up in tears
they took you in their arms, reassuring you, comforting you and making you promise never to do anything like that again
it was from that moment on that your restrictions on going out were tightened. you couldn't go out without the company of one of them, and if you wanted to go out alone, Lyla was there to watch your every move.
one thing was certain: they were loving and soft, as long as you obeyed them
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yooms-posts · 8 months
Text
It has always been your fate
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Characters: Miles morales, Gwen stacy, Hobie brown, Pavitr prabhakar, Peter B parker, Miguel O'Hara
Reader: gn reader
Genre: angst/no comfort
Summary: In every dimension you exist in the lives of the spider person, and in every dimension you're fated to die. There is no happy ending for you.
Notes: your age will be the same for the teens, while you will be a child for peter and miguel. Could be seen as platonic or romatic for the teens but its strictly platonic for the adults.
_________________________________
Miles morales
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Denial. That was all he felt at that moment. He could see you there, laying on the ground unconscious.
"(name)..." He tried calling you, before repeating again.
He limped over to your body, cradling your body close to him. He knew, he knew that you going to die. But he didn't managed to save you in time.
Call him selfish but he would do anything to bring you back. To keep you alive, to keep you beside him. He can't lose you too.
Losing his uncle left a impact on him. But you? Your death would leave a hole in his heart.
"Please...I can't lose you too. You promised me, you promised me you'd stay alive..." he plead, praying that someone, anyone would hear his pleas of desperation but it was no avail.
He lost you. Maybe if he was stronger, if he was faster he thought to himself. None of this would have happened. He held you close, your body that has no trace of warmth that he loves.
cannon event successful
Gwen stacy
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"In every universe gwen stacy falls for spiderman, and in every universe it doesn't end well." Unfortunately in this case, it dosen't go that way.
"No..no no no.." she mumbled. Her eyes trailed over too were your body was. Trapped under the pile of rubble.
The only visible part of you was your arm. Which was stained with blood. That immediately made her rush over to you.
It dosen't matter if she was badly hurt. She could heal fast due to her spider abilities but you? You didn't have any spider abilities. You were prone to dying faster than her.
In a hurry, she moved the rubble. Desperate to find you and she did. Her shaky hands touched your face.
Your face no longer felt warm, your eyes dull and blood staining your face.
She lost Peter and then you. The universe really gives no mercy to anyone close to the spider person.
cannon event successful
Hobie brown
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It was too loud. Everything was too loud at that moment.
Yelling and screaming could be heard. Blood stained streets. Buildings and cars lighting up in flames.
It was supposed to be a peaceful protest. For human rights. It was supposed to be peaceful. You told him, if anything goes wrong you'll leave.
There he was, cradling you. Trying desperately to slow down the blood loss.
The bandage used on your wound wasn't helping as it was already deeply stained with blood.
He knew that losing you would be his cannon event. He knew and still tried to save you. He dosen't care if it causes his dimension to crumble.
Unfortunately not everyone gets their happy ending. Especially if they're a spider person.
Carrying your dead body to where you and him first met, he buried you there. With all the memories and moments you shared.
Losing one of the very few people who he swore to protect and love.
"I swear (name), I'll make them pay for what they did to the innocent people and you."
cannon event successful
Pavitr prabhakar
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Almost losing his dimension and then losing you is too much for him. Too much to take in a short time.
When the spot invaded his dimension it caused a huge problem. Especially when the collider turned on.
The Alchemy building started to crumble. Causing other buildings to collapse under pressure.
Unfortunately, you were caught in the cross fire. Desperately trying to find a safe way to escape with a child in your arms.
Pavitr saw you and begain to run to where you were. Breathing heavily out of fear and tiredness. He never experienced any problems like this before.
Safely cradling the childs head, you saw him. Running towards you and you had an idea.
There was no way to safely carry the child over due to the gap in the bridge and your leg was stuck under a heavy rubble.
Noticing the side of the bridge you were on was starting to shake. Meaning it's going to collapse soon.
You quickly shouted to him to catch the child. Using your remaining energy, you threw the child over.
Before the bridge gave way and collapse. Forcing you to plunge underwater. Knocking out any remaining air.
Pavitr managed to catch the child but let out a horrified gasp. Seeing you fall alongside the bridge made his heart hurt.
Noticing the side of the bridge was starting to shake, he quickly swinged away.
That was the last time he saw you. Terrified.
cannon event successful.
Peter B. paker
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He had the antidote in his hands. He begain to open the antidote with shaky hands before,
"Peter...save the city instead. There's only one antidote and you know it." you said.
"No no no...I can try and save you and the city. I-i can do both!" He said.
But deep down, he knew that he has to choose between you or the city he loves dearly.
Tears ran down his face. He can't lose you, not when your like his own child. He already lost MJ, not you too.
He shakily gave your forehead a small kiss. Only getting a weak smile back. Before laying you down.
He swing fast and hurriedly opened the antidote. Pouring it into the machine that pumps out air in the ventilation around the city.
Before panicking and running back to you. Hoping that you atleast managed to breath in some of it.
Once he reach where you were. He could only see your unconscious body, slumed against the wall.
Not moving or breathing at all. Unfortunately he was too late as the toxic gas the villain used on you got to you.
Even more tears left his eyes. Cradling your cold body. Angry at himself for not saving you.
cannon event successful
Miguel O'Hara
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He knew it was going to happen. He knew when and where your murder would have taken place.
You were his other child, who is held dearly to him.
After losing his daughter, he couldn't afford to lose you. Unfortunately it has to happen or that dimension would collapse.
It took every ounce in him to not just travel to your dimension and save you. Only resulting to staring the screen.
He saw how the murder killed you. Seeing you struggle and trying to get out of the situation made him look away.
He couldn't bare to see his child in another dimension being killed. He could only hear the screams and shouting out for help.
Before switching off the panel that showed your dead body. He had to let it happen.
cannon event successful for earth-****
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mlm-writer · 6 months
Text
Test Ride Pt. 2 (Peter Parker x Android!Reader)
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Pairing: Peter Parker (TH ver.) x Android Reader (with a robovagina) Rating: Explicit Words: 1189 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 10 - Robotfucking Note: A sequel to a piece I did for kinktober 2020. Reader is a robot and has no gender. Last time reader got a robopenis and I thought it only fair to give reader a robovagina this time. Reader's chest is unmentioned. Tags: robotfucking, unnecessary use of fancy words to make it more sci-fi, at least I don't put 'quantum' in front of everything to make it science, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, safeword ignored(?), robot tentacles as restraints, vibrating pussy, nipple play and software/hardware updates gone ' wrong'
A new HUD interface greeted you as you booted up after your last upgrade. Your physical statistics and environmental parameters were found in new places, but that mattered little. Your optics activated after a short delay, visual input now also available to you. Your creator stood before you, his lips moving, but you received no audio input. “Audio module connection failed,” you replied to whatever he said. You saw him curse, or at least that was your best prediction of what his expression conveyed. He motioned your head down. You bent at the hips, allowed him to unplug and reconnect your audio modules. 
Once the cables reconnected, you could hear Peter clearly. “Please, don’t be ruined, please don’t be ruined,” he muttered to himself. 
“All modules operational,” you informed him. He jumped at your voice, but let out a sigh of relief right after. “Awaiting command,” you added. As per usual after an update, Peter started poking and prodding your frame, confirming your sensory input was still operational. When he was done testing your basic functions, he dragged you to his bed. 
“Program D.O.M. version V, please,” he spoke nervously. You detected an increase in heart rate and blood flow to the genitals. You confirmed the break command, as it was standard protocol, before you could execute the D.O.M. program. Once the safety protocols were satisfied, you had your digits on Peter’s clothes. You unbuttoned his flannel, revealing his pale chest underneath. There was minor bruising, but a quick scan revealed no serious injuries that were contraindications to the program. You pushed him onto the bed and started running your tongue over his chest, paying extra attention to his nipples. 
Peter whimpered as you played with his chest, artificial tongue and teeth taking turns with your digits pinching his sensitive nubs. You kept track of his arousal, only stopping your onslaught once his involuntary noises got a little louder. You sat up, retracting your pelvic panel and rubbing your wet hole over Peter’s crotch. He whined as you slowly soaked through his jeans and underwear, until he could feel your wetness on his cock through his clothes. “Please, I need to be inside you,” Peter eventually moaned, his mind tethering on the edge of madness. 
He was hard underneath you, so you deemed him ready for the next stage. With superhuman deftness, you removed his clothes until he was naked on the bed. His cock protruded from his body, the tip red and leaking. You wrapped a servo around his rod, stroking slowly as to tease him. When he started thrusting into the tightness, you placed your other servo on his hip, your mechanical strength counteracting his. He was forced to only take what you gave, which was exactly what he programmed you to give. It was not enough to get him even remotely close to orgasm, but the build-up was perfect to make him start begging. Once the begging got frequent enough, you proceeded on to the next stage; you mounted him, letting his cock slide into your wet and soft hole. Peter moaned, his eyes rolling back as you rode him at a decent pace. “Please, give me more, I’ve been good. I will be even better, I swear.” 
His moans filled the room. You took his dick all the way inside and paused on top of him. “I will grant you more. However, unpermitted orgasms will be reciprocated with punishment.” He nodded, promising he would not cum. You decreased the elasticity of your inner walls, giving him a tighter squeeze as you proceeded to ride him. Your movements were quicker than before, fully intending to make him cum without permission. Peter was moaning to the ceiling, eyes squeezed closed sometimes and other times wide open. His mouth stayed wide open, tongue peeking over his lower lip. 
Just as predicted, your inner sensors detected his cum painting your inner workings. You rode him until the spurts seized. Then you planted yourself firmly on him. Tendrils extended from your body and wrapped around his appendages. “You have disobeyed my orders,” you stated as you held him down and turned on the vibrations of your inner walls. Peter wailed as his sensitive cock was forced to endure the intense vibrations. He writhed against your restraints, but not even his super strength could remove you. Just like he had begged you before to fuck him, he was now begging for your mercy. You bent your upper body, putting a servo around his throat. You put a little pressure on the blood vessels below his jaw. Tears poured down Peter’s eyes as you forced a second orgasm out of him. You detected more cum inside you as he cried out. 
After his second orgasm, you ran a scan on him, the analysis showing that he had enough. You removed your servo from his throat and turned off the stimulation or at least… attempted to. “Error: deprecated code, V-module unresponsive.” You stated, your tendrils no longer retracting and your hole vibrating on and on. 
“What?” Peter exclaimed, clearly in panic. You ran a diagnostic check, your hole trying to reboot by first ramping the vibrations all the way up, so it could be brought down again. Peter screamed during the process, his brain unable to process the stimulation. 
The tactic worked fine, but the module got stuck again at the same level of vibrations you started at. “Tendril module interfering with V-module. Attempting tendril reboot.” Peter did not perceive a word you said. As the tendrils rebooted, they lifted up a little, Peter’s body now hanging in the air except for his pelvis, where you still sat, vibrating his cock. 
Peter cried, feeling like his brain had melted away from the intense pleasure. “Stark! Stark!” He screamed the break command. You tried to terminate the program immediately, but the backlog of reboots and diagnostic checks made it impossible. Your creator, against your predictions, came again, barely a drop of cum leaving him. He kept screaming, trying to get through to you. Just after his third orgasm, you regained control of the tendrils. In a flash, they were retracted and you uncoupled the module for now. 
Peter’s cock was gradually turning limp inside of you. The poor boy was hoarse from screaming. Without the tendrils, you regained full control, the vibrations stopping instantly. “Thank you, thank you,” Peter whispered over and over as you lifted your frame off him. 
“Program D.O.M. paused,” you stated, “do you wish to continue after a delay or shall I proceed with aftercare protocols?” 
Peter laid starfish-style on the bed. His chest was heaving. He could use some aftercare, but it was hard to trust you right now. “Terminate the program all together,” he groaned, “initiate shutdown.” A second later, he was met with the sound of your vents shutting down and your pelvic plate closing to protect what was behind it. He was left in silence. As far as updates went, it still wasn’t as bad as that time Windows went from XP to Vista. He counted it as a win.  
—————
REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS
Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!
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rhythmstars · 10 months
Note
Hello!! Just saw that you were writing for Pavitr- and thought I could submit this idea:) soo, I was thinking an Pavitr x reader where some villian finds out that spider man is dating the reader and uses that against him by kidnapping the reader? And Pavitr is just kinda freaking out and Gwen or someone has to calm him down before they go and save reader? Just thought it was an interesting idea and it's fine if you don't want to do it:) remember to take care of yourself and all that stuff<3
A/n: omg i live for hurt comfort!! Also, thank you so much for being so sweet! take care of yourself as well, drink some water!! and thank you for requesting!! <3
i tried my best to write this, i hope you enjoy, I'm sorry for any mistakes or if it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to :)
Warnings: minor? gore, panic, crying, hurt (with comfort fellas!), Pavitr being ANGRY, and bad writing.
this is my first fic on Tumblr so pls let me know if you like it and if there are any mistakes :))
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Pavitr Prabhakar x GN! Reader
It was five hours ago when Pavitr received a text from his partner asking him if he is free for the day.
Five hours ago when he replied with a 'sorry but i have a meeting with the others today, maybe next time? will make it up to you i promise <3'
Four hours ago when he got a text from them reassuring him that it's alright and that they can always plan something for some other day, and asking him not to blame himself for this.
Three hours ago, before he got a text from them telling him that they have a sudden change in schedule and that they'll be attending their piano lessons today. A message with the last line being 'don't forget how much I love you, Pav. <3'
It was two hours ago when he got out of the meeting and tried calling his s/o to talk with them about their day and his. Two hours ago when they didn't pick up his first and his fifth call.
It was one hour ago when he asked Gwen and Hobie to help him find his s/o because he was freaking out.
And, it was exactly 30 minutes ago when Miguel called him to the office and told him that his beloved had been walking home from school when they got abducted by some unknown people. When he felt like the world has stopped.
It was exactly now that he was panicking and pacing around the room with uneven breathing.
"Pav, you need to calm down. They'll be fine." Gwen tried to reassure him because she felt like if she doesn't, then Pavitr won't ever stop. He didn't reply though, possibly not even heard what his friend had said. He kept murmuring about the possibilities he had flooding his mind.
Hobie sighed "This is no good mate. You gotta stop pacin' and think for a moment." He tried to talk to him but was met with silence once more. Frustrated with his best friend's antics, he walked towards Pavitr and puts a hand on his shoulder making him still. "Oi! can you stop pacin' around and think calmly for a moment?" he said in a sharp tone.
What he didn't expect was a distraught looking Pavitr looking at him helplessly with tears in his eyes. "Pav..." Gwen was shocked to see him like this as well. A guy like him never liked crying in front of others or talking about his problems, so seeing him like this really hurt them.
"Calmly?" Pavitr spoke in an annoyed tone. "I CAN'T BE CALM! MY S/O IS KIDNAPPED BECAUSE OF ME! AND I'M SITTING HERE NOT BEING ABLE TO DO *ANYTHING* BECAUSE MIGUEL HAS TOLD US TO SIT AROUND TILL HE PLAYS WITH HIS MACHINES IN THERE!"
Both of them looked at him shocked to their cores. They had never seen this guy so frustrated or angry. This cool and calm guy with a never ending playful persona.
He sighed. "I'm- I'm sorry I just-" he covered his face as he sat down on the stairs. "I- I don't know what to do...i don't know what is happening to them right now or if they're alright. I have no clue where they are and what those assholes are doing to them." He took in a deep breath. "I- You don't know I just- I don't want to think about this- what if, what if they're hurt? what if they're torturing them for being with me? they'll never tell my secrets, they'll rather die and it just, it scares the shit out of me guys i don't know what is going on. what if i never get to see them again? what if they leave me? what if- what if I-" His voice broke and he choked on a sob.
Gwen and Hobie looked down in guilt. They knew that this isn't easy for Pavitr. He truly loved Y/n.
Only a minute later, Peter came running out of the building. "Hey! We found 'em!" At his words, Pavitr got up with the speed of lightning and impatiently demanded the location.
"Where?"
Miguel walked beside Peter, "Do not act irrationally Pavitr, this is-"
"Where."
Miguel and Peter looked at him in shock. They had never seen him so angry. "The warehouse near the east coast in Mumbattan."
That's all he needed to hear before getting ready to take off. He had waited enough. One more second of delay and he'd lose himself. With impatient, trembling hands, he started using his watch for opening a portal back to his world.
To save his world.
"Pavitr!" He looked back at Miguel when he heard his voice, expecting a lecture on being rational and thinking calmly. But much to everyone's except Peter's surprise, Miguel said something nice. "Good luck."
Pavitr gave him a grateful nod and walked into the portal followed by Gwen and Hobie.
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The three of them stood on a tower standing a few meters away from the warehouse. Pavitr was growing impatient every second and both Gwen and Hobie could see it.
Gwen placed a hand on his shoulder gently speaking, "Hey, it's alright. We're here now right? They're gonna be alright." She gave him a small reassuring smile.
"Yeah mate really, let's just check before getting straight to them, eh?" Hobie gave him a grin.
Pavitr sighed and nodded. "Let's go." They swung by the warehouse and over, trying to search for men possibly on the lookout. When they found none, they landed on the roof of the warehouse. A skylight caught there attention as they walked towards it to look inside. Unfortunately for them, it was too dark.
Too dark for Pavitr's liking.
Suddenly, the door to the warehouse opened and a man dressed in a robe walked in. He had a suitcase in his hand. What the actual hell?
He placed his suitcase on a iron table nearby and walked towards....
Pavitr's eyes widened. There, in front of that man, laying on the cold hard ground, tied to a metal frame, was his beloved s/o. The light coming in from the opened door reflected their bruises and cuts. Pavitr's blood turned cold at the man's laughter.
"Look at you, young gorgeous. Not so gorgeous anymore with all those scars but-" he pulled out a pair of gloves and started putting it on. "Come on dear y/n. We both know he doesn't give a DAMN about you. Otherwise he'd be here by now."
Gwen places a hand on Pavitr's shoulder, trying to ground his racing heart. "He won't even LOOK at you with a face as bruised as this. Just, tell me already." his voice turned deadly serious as he kneeled in front of them, "how. do. i. defeat. him."
That's enough.
Pavitr broke through the glass of the skylight and landed behind the man making him turn away startled. Gwen and Hobie followed after him looking angry. But Pavitr wasn't angry, no.
He was FURIOUS.
He glared at the man with so much rage and hatred that even the creepy man felt a shiver run down his spine. "Hah! would you look at that!" The man clapped his hands. "so you DO care after all."
Pavitr rushed forward and punched the man straight in the jaw making him stumble. But he still laughed like a maniac. "Haha! Gosh! You have some strength in you young man!" Pavitr punched him again as Gwen rushed to y/n's side untying their hands and legs. Hobie took his chance and smashed a random discarded wine bottle he found lying somewhere on the man's arm making him yelp in agony.
"WHAT DID YOU DO!?" pavitr yelled. He held him by the collar of his shirt. "WHY DID YOU TAKE THEM!?" He punched him on the right cheek but he kept laughing. "HOW DARE YOU HURT THEM!" A punch on the left cheek and his laughing turned to choked coughs as he spat out blood on the floor. "HOW DARE YOU!" He yelled and kept punching him.
Gwen, y/n and Hobie watched him with wide eyes. They had never seen him so furious. So vengeful. Gwen looked at Hobie who stood behind Pavitr, giving a look. He nodded before walking forward and holding pavitr by his shoulders. "Hey. that's enough, mate."
But to their surprise, Pavitr pushed his hands away and kept punching the now unconscious man. Hobie frowned. "Pav. Let go man. that's enough." He didn't stop.
Y/n watched. This wasn't like him. He wasn't the sweet, charismatic boy who they knew. No, he was a furious and enraged superhuman who had forgotten about the boundaries of being the friendly neighborhood, Spider-Man.
"Pav..." They spoke weakly but loud enough for him to hear. He immediately stopped his movements and looked at them. They had tears in their eyes as They stared at him with fear. Afraid that he'll lose his humanity. He dropped his hands to the side, his blood and the man's blood mixed, dripping from his knuckles. He swiftly walked towards them and kneeled in front of them.
His eyes scanned their body lingering on every cut and bruise. Y/n slowly raised a hand to his cheek and it was enough to break him. He hid his face in the crook of their neck as the tears escaped his eyes.
Gwen and Hobie shared knowing looks and walked out with hobie carrying the unconscious man.
Pavitr hugged y/n and cried in their embrace. "Hey.... I'm okay... it's okay...Pav..." They whispered gently to him.
The hold on their body tightened as he cried. "I- i thought i- l-lost you.." Y/n felt a ache in their heart. He sounded so broken. "I was s-so scared."
It came as a surprise even to y/n. No matter how bad things got or how scared he'd get, Pavitr NEVER showed it on his face. He always kept a charming smile on his face and a few corny jokes up his sleeve to assess the situation. But seeing him break down like this only because of the fear that he'd lose them, it was overwhelming. It was heartwarming. It was endearing.
They took in a shakey breath and hugged him tighter. "Yeah...me too. But hey" they pulled a little back and looked at him in the eyes, "we're okay. you're here... I'm here...yeah?" a reassuring smile on their face, they tried their best to console his racing heart and shaking body.
"B-but y-you're hurt..." He looked down at their wounds but they held him by the chin and made him look at them.
"I'm alive." Their voice was firm and reassuring. "They....they may leave some scars but, nothing serious. I hope you don't mind a little ugliness, Spider boy." They smiled and joked but their voice held some sort of insecurity and fear in it. This didn't go unnoticed by Pavitr.
He always noticed.
He gently cupped their cheeks and looked softly at them. "You were, are, and always will be the most beautiful person to me. In every damn universe and in every damn reality. I will NEVER stop loving you y/n." His words made the tears in their eyes return as they smiled at him.
How can he be so brutally furious one moment and then so sweet and caring the other? 'This boy... he'd be the death of me.' Y/n thought as they looked at his miraculously perfect face.
Pavitr pulled them in for a kiss and they happily gave in hugging him close. When they pulled apart, Pavitr gave them a small smile.
"Now let's get you home." He gently picked them up in his arms and grinned at them.
" I'm pretty sure you missed your dashing boyfriend."
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Text
─🕷────────────── Don't Lie To Me (Peter Parker x Reader -Angst-) ─🕷──────────────
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You know Peter is cheating on you, and you want the truth.
I had no specific Peter Parker in mind when I wrote this, but enjoy. Language, cheating, angst, implied sex ahead.
770 Words
Peter had been increasingly coming home later than usual. You were sick of him hiding his phone all the time whenever it rang. You hated to be suspicious of him like this but you had a gut feeling something was wrong.
That gut feeling was confirmed when you saw the text light up his phone when you both were in bed one night. He was asleep and went to bed clutching his phone in his hand. It slipped out to lay flat on the mattress beside him. You didn't want to accidentally wake him, so you got out the bed and tiptoed around to his side. Hesitantly picking up the glowing device, you read the message:
New Message From Felicia
Hey Spider...When can I see you again? Last night was too fun ;)
You felt your heart sink.
You started to breathe rapidly, trying to focus on something else before you had a panic attack.
You brushed yourself off for a couple of days thinking maybe it was a coworker. Maybe it was taken out of context. Your Peter could never betray you like that.
But when his phone rang with her name once again, he tried to hide it, and you had enough.
"I got promoted today" He said glancing at you and then digging into his pasta.
You stayed silent as you shook your head and raised your eyebrows. You held the metal fork, gripping it hard, wanting nothing more than to stab him with it.
He continued cautiously, it didn't take his spidey sense to notice your grip on the fork: "I think it'll be good for the both of us, and in a couple months I can probably become assistant manager of the company. What do you think?"
He waited for your answer, and when he received none he frowned.
"Baby, you're being so quiet, what's-"
"Yeah, Peter, I'm sorry for being quiet, and all, while you want to celebrate, but you know what I think? I think fucking other people while you know how much I love you is fucking cruel. Who the fuck is Felicia?" You exhaled through your nostrils, eyebrows furrowed as you let your hidden rage out.
You could see his face go pale, confirming you discovered something he always meant to keep a secret.
"She's...she's just...she's just a-" he stuttered not helping his case whatsoever.
"Peter. Don't you lie to me." your voice stern.
"She an old friend, we've been catching up and there's nothing going on between us." You could tell he was lying.
"Then let me see your phone, Peter."
"What? No, (y/-)"
"Let me see your Goddamn phone!" you yelled. You hated to yell but you were at a breaking point. You tried to stay strong, tears attempting to form in your eyes.
He reluctantly put in his password, and handed it to you while sighing deeply. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes.
"Wow."
That was really all you could say. Because the second you clicked on her contact the evidence spoke for itself. Dates they had planned, nudes sent, sexts exchanged. It was worse than you ever envisioned it would be.
You nodded your head accepting that this was reality as you prodded your tongue in your mouth before asking:
"What, so you were going to..just keep me around in case that didn't work out?" You folded your arms.
"It's not...it just kind of happened." he answered struggling to explain himself. What can he say? He was caught.
"But you still kept it going?" you threw your hand up and then back into your arm fold.
"I'm sorry." he says his voice starting to croak.
Your face was full of sadness, but you knew what you had to do. That trust was something that could never be replaced. And it's gone now.
"Sorry won't bring me back" you stated sadly.
You called a friend and asked if you could stay the night, telling them about the situation. You pulled your suitcase from the closet and stuffed as many of your clothes and items in there as possible.
You'd have to collect the rest of your stuff eventually. But tonight you just wanted to be away from Peter.
"Have fun with that" you said pointing to his phone as you left the house, pulling your suitcase behind you.
You got in your car and turned the key to the ignition to drive. Your tears finally flowed as you let yourself cry. You blinked rapidly and hot tears came rolling down, its warmth feeling oddly comforting in this cold time.
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clarks-letterman · 1 year
Text
desirable | doctor!peter parker x gn!reader
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a/n — the pictures are so mismatched but i don't have a gif and they all work separately for the fic so yeah- mishmosh pishposh motherf*ckers <3 (this is a jokey but veryyy smutty fic i wrote to get out of writers block)
summary — Infatuated by the doctor treating you, you return with feigned sickness.
words — 2.9k
warnings — SMUT! 18+, throat-fucking, blowjobs, sexy peter parker
~~~
The office was stuffy, or maybe it was your throat swelling, with a scratch that only stuck out when you tried to speak. You scheduled an appointment within an older practice run by renowned Doctor Bruce Banner, who you had little confidence in since he could hardly understand things about his own body. Not that you would discredit someone of his intelligence, but he struggled to control his body at levels of extreme emotion, and dealing with any sickness is never something calm to bear through. He prevailed on your previous visits; that was the only reason you remained slumped against the wall of the waiting room chairs, fighting congestion and an endlessly parched thirst.
After a little while, a nurse in lime green scrubs called your name, prompting you to stand, and followed her into one of the few patient rooms once she checked your height, weight, blood pressure, and temperature. On your first visit, you were surprised to learn about the scarcity of rooms, only to realize that their sizes were far more massive than what would be required for a human-sized head specialist. The bed you sat on, paper crinkling on even the most trivial shift of your body, took up only a fraction of the room it occupied. The other side of the room had a desk and a chair that faced the wall, both oversized to fit Banner's frame but made the computer, keyboard, and mouse sitting atop it look like little playthings. To the left of the bed were a sink, a few hanging otoscopes to check your ears, and some other things you didn't recognize. To your right was the door the nurse walked out of, and no less than five minutes passed before a doctor with a deeper shade of green scrubs entered.
It was a pleasant surprise to learn that your doctor would not be the Hulk himself but a younger male in hulk-green scrubs who had only recently started working for Doctor Banner. Banner was nice but not always careful, especially with his large, discolored fingers. You were happy that he wouldn't be the one to lay a hand on your throat since he could probably crush your larynx with the jerk of a sneeze. Your new doctor didn't seem as friendly as the big guy, though, seized in a look of shock—possibly embarrassment—as he laid eyes on you, then fumbled with his clipboard. It almost fell to the ground but miraculously clung to the tips of his fingers, and he caught the board. He kept his head low and buried, busying himself with your information, hushedly repeating it aloud.
The doctor's face was pale aside from the flush of ignominy, possibly from the same bug you contracted somewhere around New York, though you figured he happened to not get enough sun. Judging by how he carried himself and the awkward chipperness in his voice, you suspected the latter. Yet he filled out his scrubs rather nicely, tautly stretching over his chest and struggling to hide his bulk for someone potentially sun-appalled. It was like he chose a size down from his typical day apparel to tempt his patients, to keep them engaged with whatever boring medical jargon he was most likely to spew out after giving them a diagnosis. You had to admit, it worked.
His short, chocolate curls looked like they had been on the receiving end of many pushbacks with a shaky hand as if he was excessively nervous. He had a simple complexion, easy on the eyes with warm brown hues that challenged the depth of rich soil. His nametag coruscated in the light; black, blocky lettering printed across the laminate—Dr.Parker.
Silence loomed over the room, only backing away when you let out a few sputtered hacks from the back of your throat. A simple coughing fit to others, but it felt like a raging war broke out for the millionth time today on your sore inner muscles. That's when he looked up.
"Sorry I didn't introduce myself. Doctor Parker, and you must be . . ." he hesitated momentarily, scanning the clipboard again—was he that forgetful? His index finger followed the pages of your file before halting, and he spoke your name without his eyes leaving the inky letters. The way it rolled off his tongue felt different than how other people said it, like the set of his mouth was meant to twist and twitch with every syllable. "And a sore throat today, huh? That's gotta hurt."
"Kind of," you said, being courteous about how it hurt to swallow and that it felt like someone was constantly ramming something stiff and sharp down your throat each time you tried to eat the softest foods on the shelf. Doctor Parker moved over to the chair, taking a seat in it. You watched how the backing of the chair reached halfway up to the back of his head when he finally got comfortable in the seat, looking more like an excessively sized dog bed, significantly passing his spread legs. He took ahold of the mouse that filled out his hand—appearing to be more than a handful—and clicked open a few programs until he entered an alterable document. It was complete with information about your previous visits.
"What symptoms have you been dealing with?" he asked, hands resting on the keys underneath the monitor, his beautiful face illuminated by the blank, white screen. You told him about the troubles this illness brought but kept it brief to save your throat the pain later. After you relayed everything to him, his intent ears never missing a slurred or misspoken word, he moved on to diagnosing you.
He got out of the comically-sized chair and drew near. Cold hands met your warmed, overheated skin. "Definitely swollen," he muttered. Only a few words slipped from his mouth since he entered the room, and you hadn't even learned his first name, yet you happily listened and waited for more of his spoken thoughts. If your throat was back to normal, how he held it would have been much more evocative. Was he aware of the effect he had on his patients?
At first, his hands were gentle, like a deer carefully watching its step on an uneven meadow, but they had a growing bite as he started to press into your swollen lymph nodes. The force elicited a painful noise past your lips and a harsh "Ow."
His hands backed away immediately, retreating safely to his sides, and that's when he looked up to your face. You were sure it flushed at his worried glance and not from the sickness.
"Sorry, it's my first day on the job," he half-heartedly apologized.
"Really?" you asked skeptically. Maybe that was why you never saw Doctor Parker before now; he was new.
"No."
"Nervous?" your throat rasped.
His cracked lips stretched, hiding any anxiety he took out on them and forming a brief smile, "Yeah, uh, something like that."
The doctor refrained from putting his hands on you for the rest of the visit, asking you how the infection made you feel and what you noticed during the past few days of dealing with it. He concluded it to be tonsilitis and prescribed a healthy dose of antibiotics that would hopefully kill the infection thriving in your throat. They did their job and had you feeling better within a few days. 
From the view of your bathroom mirror, opaque-white lights cast visibility over your throat. The pain was gone, but the handsome doctor's touch never left, his pale hands turning a true translucent as you felt the ghost of them linger. You needed to go back for the resolution, but finding a reason to return would be difficult.
. . .
"Back again so soon? Guess you missed me," Doctor Parker remarked as he came through the door, realizing that you sat on the table in the same position as last time. "Still sick?"
You nodded, rebuffing words out of fear that the first one to slip out would sound unscratched by your throat, harmonious and smooth. 
"Did it get worse?" You nodded again. "Okay, huh, open up for me? Sorry, please." The doctor heard how it sounded out loud and took the opportunity to make banter with himself where you couldn't. His hand rose and followed your jaw, his thumb glossing over your chin as the rest nearly missed his touch from the last time. With your mouth open, the tip of his flashlight clicked, and out came the light pouring into the darkness. "You sure the medication didn't work? Still feels scratchy?"
You nodded—again. His hands slid down, two fingers on either side of your throat, feeling around for swelling and unwanted masses. Unfortunately, his touch didn't last long, as he pulled away with a look of certainty.
"I've seen enough. I'll call in for a prescription of antibiotics to kill that lie you're committed to."
Your voice slipped, mistakenly asking in a less husky tone, "What do you mean?"
He pushed the chair away from the desk, the tip of his toe sweeping the ground to swivel him around. "I don't want to catch a case of lying, but I don't think I could because you're not sick."
You let your voice return to normal, no longer feigning malady, "How could you tell?"
He stood, leaning against the tall desk. He folded his arms over his scrubs and scrunched the forest green cotton and rayon, "Your throat's gone down, and, obviously, I prescribed the right thing. Top of my class and all. Why did you do it?"
You trapped yourself in here, and there was nothing else to say but the truth, "I . . . think you're hot?"
"Wow, that's a new one—and a relief. Usually, the patients I see more than once have made-up names and appendages I can't even describe—you'd have to be there! And they always try to . . .kill me."
"What?"
"Hey, don't spin this around on me. I'm the one asking questions, here," he mirrored, uncomfortably shifting away from the desk. "How could you make it up to me?"
The question lingered like the newly raised hand to his chin to signify the thoughts running through his head. Your head started to conjure ideas of what exactly he would do. Doctor Parker didn't seem mad when he learned about the reason behind this contrived visit, but maybe it was how he handled things. He kept calm and probably already called security or would ask you to leave, from what you could assume. 
After a few moments of deliberation, he dropped his arms by his sides, "I think the best thing to do, is to give you a taste of your own medicine, yeah?"
With his elbows bent, his hands dug up the hem of his shirt and to the waistband stretching over his flat stomach. The hulk-green elastic slid up to the thenars of his hands with nowhere to go but down, thanks to the pressure he applied, the band easily giving way to reveal his partly defined Adonis belt. It was prominent, but the lines looked as if they were lightly sketched on what was otherwise a perfect sculpture.
"What are you doing?" you had to ask as if it wasn't obvious. His thumbs showed through the outline of his pants and a thicker, more pronounced, and lengthier silhouette just further down. You knew what he wanted; he only had to say it.
"Doing what you want, playing doctor and patient. Today's checkup involves a laryngoscopy—throat examination, if that was too confusing," he spoke as if he was in control but still had the consideration that his soft-leaning look won you over with on your first visit. This time, you saw his hardened and more defined side as he finally let his pants drop to his knees. No underwear. He was confident in a way where other people wouldn't know unless they were close to him. 
His cock stood tall, and his balls hung low with enough to push the limits of whatever it entered and was sure to create enough of a smack with each passionate hip-rock. Lengthy enough to reach all the right places, but not enough to go where it didn't belong. A couple of tugs with his right hand later proved the second half of that untrue as he grew even more excited.
"You're gonna have to lay back," he waded near you, half-pulled-down pants restricting his steps so far. With a single hand, he maneuvered you with impossible strength, only ceasing his hold when you were on your back, head titled over the foot of the examination bed. The table paper's end crinkled in your ears.
The fluorescent tubes casting light from above were shadowed by his figure stepping into the frame of your flipped world view. His smooth and defined thighs blocked your peripherals. In only seconds, the dry head of his cock was at your gated lips. He hastily spoke, teasing, "Say, ahh. I'll make it nice and sore, just like you need."
Your lips brushed it as they parted, "Aren't you supposed to make me feel better?"
"This is for me since you wasted my time. Don't worry, it'll only hurt a little," he left you with that, suddenly entering your mouth, lips conforming to the girth. 
Your tongue felt the topside of his cock; the small ridge where the wide tip ended, and the length and all of its scattered veins began. It was tasteless, bland, and made even more uninteresting since the doctor took his sweet time. The only thing that saved it and provided excitement were the soft noises he made. He had been talkative up until now, but you still knew how he felt. His moans were enough to discern it. He spewed out hushed 'ohs' and pants, which seemed odd as he was less than halfway in your mouth. That was enough to tell he enjoyed it so far, but you wondered about the distance that far away could be. When he didn't have to guide himself into you anymore, the hand holding his hefty length moved to grip the table—tightly. You could have sworn you heard the metal creaking with the pressure.
His cock snaked forward, earning a sharp gluck once he reached your throat. Then, you convulsed, body shaking at the unnatural mass invading your mouth, lips sputtering around him. He sneered in delight, his own set of lips breaking the set of his face to form a smile. His slow pace stopped when a light tracing of hair grazed your chin, balls low enough to brush your nose. Your throat jutted, his head showing from the outside as a small peak in the middle, made more apparent by how your head was titled back.
Slowly, it began to sink and rise as he started to rock his hips. He started to pick up a pace, burying himself until there was nothing left to hide and reeling it back moments later to rest just short of your lips. Every now and then, he would make you swallow his cock for longer than a few seconds, causing welled-up spit to pour from your mouth and onto him and your face. At a certain point, he broke his rhythm, withdrawing all of himself from your wet encasement. Slicked in spit, his gorgeous length glistened in the fluorescent white.
"Feel good?" You could hardly stutter it out, jaw aching at the corners.
"Yeah, it feels great. Nothing wrong with it so far, but I'd like to consider a re-evaluation."
Familiarity washed over you, the same feeling as moments before returning with more wants. More needs. To your surprise, the hand on the examination table keeping his thrusts steady now rested around your throat. The doctor yearned to feel himself piercing you, putting his breath-taking looks into a literal sense. And he did; your throat unwillingly bulged with his deeply buried cock. An unregulated series of appearing and disappearing beneath his palm and wet noises coming from your spit-filled cavern.
After a few more globs of spit well up and spill from your mouth—making all the noises that were expected along with it—the doctor needily stated that he was "going to come." No less than a second later, warm white poured down your throat with no other option except to be swallowed.
The doctor pulled away, a mixture of release and slobber slicking his cock. He waded to the sink, reaching for a few paper towels from the dispenser to wipe himself off.
You sat up, wiping a hand over your mouth and nose to clear off some of his sticky come and your spit, "What about me?"
"What about you?" He laughed at the end of his return. Once he had fixed himself up to act as if the past twenty minutes had never happened, he went to the computer and took a seat on the oversized chair, like last time. 
As he tapped away at the keyboard, he informed you about the changes to your medical file, "I'll put myself as your Primary Care Physician from now on, but Doctor Banner might want to see you soon. I think he'll have a new stress reliever."
929 notes · View notes
hanasnx · 5 months
Note
the mask stays on too while he fucks you during roleplaying.
he knows that you want it to stay on bc you've probably blurted out the fact that you have a thing for masked men, at least he can use it against you in that situation, right?
the only part of his face you can see is his mouth, bc be cannot keep his lips off yours for that long, anddddd you can see whenever his smirks too 🫠
now hold on a second. i think he’d like no-kiss sex. not that he prefers it, but if the mask stays on,,, it’ll stay all the way on. you wanna kiss him, you big baby? kiss him over the cloth like an adult. try to french him through it out of instinct and he’ll make fun of you. spider-man’ll taunt you just like he does all his villains and all his friends, it’s a communicative device. and he loves annoying you, especially when his dick is lodged all up in your guts.
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alltoowelltom · 2 years
Text
Who'd You Rather
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tom holland x reader
summary: if there's one thing Ellen is known for, it's exposing secret relationships
a/n: this was written so quickly and not proof-read. also, i picked Ellen because if anyone would do this, it would be her lol
✧・゚: ✧・゚:✧・゚: ✧・゚:
July 2019
"So Y/N, are you currently dating anyone?" asks Ellen, taking a sip from her mug.
You shake your head.
"Not currently, no."
Ellen nods.
"Well, please don't worry anymore. We're going to help you find someone in a little game we like to call Who'd You Rather?"
"Oh God," you laugh, twisting slightly in your seat to glare at your manager for agreeing to this who laughed and poked her tongue out at you.
"So all you need to do is look at the photos I show you and pick between these two options, alright?"
"Okay, if you insist." you roll your eyes, facing the large screen.
"I do. So to start off, Timothee Chalamet or Dylan O'Brien?"
"Oh, wow," you laugh. "Starting off strong. Well, I was an absolute hoe for Maze Runner when it came out so I have to pick Dylan. Plus, I know Timothee better so it would be kinda awkward if I chose him."
The picture of Timothee fades away and is replaced by a new photo.
"Dylan O'Brien or Harry Styles?"
"Harry fucking Styles." you say without hesitation and the audience cheers. Ellen nods.
"Harry Styles or Florence Pugh?"
You bury your head in your hands.
"How could you ask me that, Ellen? That's like asking someone to pick between cookie dough and mint chip ice cream! Impossible."
Ellen mimes tapping at her watch and tuts at you.
"Time's ticking, Y/N. Make your choice."
You sigh.
"It's absolutely Florence then. Sorry, Harry."
"Florence pugh or Chris Evans?" Ellen asks.
"Flo."
Ellen's eyes gleam as she quickly reads the next pair of names, rubbing her hands together in a comically evil fashion.
"Florence Pugh or Tom Holland?"
You slide down on your chair, laughing and covering your face with your hands.
"Ellen!" you shriek. "I've just come off my second movie co-starring with Tom and he's literally my best friend. You can't ask me this!"
Ellen grins.
"Florence Pugh or Tom Holland?" she repeats.
You pout at the camera.
"Flo, I am so sorry. Please still be my friend. I pick Tom."
The crowd roars in approval and you wave a hand at them, laughing.
"Shhhh, guys."
"Tom Holland or Jake Gyllenhaal?" asks Ellen.
"Tom Holland."
"Tom Holland or Hailee Steinfeld?"
"Tom Holland."
"Tom Holland or Niall Horan?"
You hesitate, biting your lip as Tom's frozen grin stares down at you from the photo.
"I…fuck. Tom?" you say, almost as a question.
"So it's Tom?" Ellen grins. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."
You nod, sitting up straight and crossing your legs.
"It's Tom."
Ellen stares straight into the camera as an assistant signals an upcoming ad break. She rests one hand on your shoulder as she addresses the audience.
"Tom Holland, you'd better act quickly. Y/N is currently sitting by her phone, waiting for your call. Don't mess this up."
✧・゚: ✧・゚:✧・゚: ✧・゚:
April 2021
You relax into the plush cushion of the chair on Ellen's set once again. You are paying attention, sort of. You nod and laugh in all the right places, offering stories and jokes when needed but your mind is miles away. Ellen can pick up on this and she shifts in her seat.
"Y/N." she says, holding eye contact. "Can I have your phone please?"
Your eyes widen as you reach into the pocket of your oversized blazer, following her request and placing the unlocked device in Ellen's waiting hand.
"I wonder," she says out loud, "who we can get to answer your call?"
"Oh God," you laugh, covering your face. "If no one picks up I'll be so embarrassed."
"The Watermelon Man?" Ellen questions, reading off of the screen. "Shall we call the Watermelon Man, whoever that is?"
You cover your face, laughing.
"Jesus. If Harry Styles doesn't pick up I think I'll throw myself off a cliff."
The phone rings three times before a voice rings out from a noisy background.
"Y/N! How are you?" laughs Harry. "This is a surprise, I have to admit."
"Harry!" you call out, before he can say anything else. "Ellen's hijacked my phone and started ringing people, I'm so sorry."
"Oh, she has?" Harry asks mischievously. "I'll make sure not to mention anything about our upcoming collaboration then…" he trails off and you can practically hear him winking through the phone as he hangs up.
"That absolute fucker," you laugh, rolling your eyes at his spoiler as Ellen is already scrolling through your contacts list again.
"Oh!" she exclaims, eyes bright. "Y/N, I thought you told us you weren't dating anyone? May I ask who 'My Darling 💖' is?"
You freeze on the spot, mouth drying out as you blink at Ellen, desperately trying to jump start your brain into snatching the phone back. You glance over at your manager who is sat stock still, just as shocked as you are.
The phone rings five times and you breathe a sigh of relief. It's 3AM in London right now, he's not going to pick up.
Just as you've collected your heart off of the floor and smoothed your hair down, ready to make a self deprecating joke about this mystery person not picking up, there's a pause and the a collective gasp from the audience as the phone connects.
"Hello my love, is everything alright?" asks Tom in his groggy, raspy morning voice.
Ellen's jaw hits the floor so quickly you're shocked it doesn't fall off entirely.
tysm for reading! reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3
✧・゚: ✧・゚:✧・゚: ✧・゚:
part 2
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pixiexdusts-world · 1 year
Text
Incorrect quote
Y/n: Peter, I’m sad.
Peter: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay.
Kate: Yelena, I’m sad.
Yelena, nodding: mood.
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Note
I have a request to have cg! Peter Parker x little! reader.
Reader had a ton to do at school (homework, tests, projects, etc) and had to stay big all week. They want to regress, but they don’t to keep Peter away from going on patrol so they try to stay big and they think Peter won’t notice. However, Peter notices.
Reader can be fem or gender neutral.
(I don’t know if that’s a good request, I just don’t see a lot with cg! peter parker 😭)
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CG-Senses
CG!Peter Parker x GNLittle!Reader
Rating: Gen
Summary: Reader is overwhelmed with homework and trying to stay big, but it makes them grumpy so a tired Caregiver!Peter stays home with them.
Word Count: 448
Warnings: Reader is grumpy and may come off as rude/sarcastic
A/N: This is such a cute concept and a very sweet prompt! CG!Peter Parker was fun to write and I'd love to do more with him if you have more ideas because idk if I did the dynamic justice in this short little oneshot.
Support me on AO3!
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“Hey,” Peter shut the door behind him. “I brought you some Mexican food from that place down the street?” 
“Yeah, thanks, just set it down there,” you said. 
He did as you asked but then paused before walking into his room. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Why? Are your ‘spidey-senses’ tingling?” you asked sarcastically. 
Peter stopped putting on his suit and poked his head out the bedroom door to shoot you a look. 
Immediately, it almost made you crack. You drew in a breath a little quicker than you meant to and turned back to your homework. 
Then he softened. “I can hang out tonight if you want. I don’t need to go out…” he hinted. 
“I have homework,” you said. 
He leaned over your shoulder to take a look. “Do you want help with it? We can knock it out pretty quick--” 
“No! Go!” you said. “Go be spiderman!” you whined. 
“I don’t need to tonight. I can be here for you.”
“I’m a big kid!” you whined, starting to cry. Why was he staying here?! You had homework!
“I know, it was a big week for you. It’s okay. C’mon, come to daddy, I’ve got you.”
You hesitated to stand up but when you did, you couldn’t help but fall into his arms. 
“Yeah, I’ve got you. See? Not so bad.” 
“I have homework,” you whined. 
“I know, but I need you to eat and then we’ll do homework, okay?”
“You gotta work!” 
He shushed you and brought your crown up to his chin, resting his head atop yours. 
“I don’t have to patrol tonight. I have a baby to take care of.” 
“...Is it me?” you asked. 
He looked down at you and smiled. “Of course it’s you.” He paused for a moment. “And do you want to know a secret?” 
You nodded curiously. 
“I’m tired, too.” 
He helped you eat and you worked through your homework together before you could really regress. He turned on the tv for you and was laying out all your toys as you put on your kitten pajamas-- the one-piece with the hood and little orange cat face. 
There, you crawled into his lap as he sat on the floor with you, playing with your toys, crashing toy trucks together and having your action figures save the planet. 
You turned to hand one to him, but that’s when you noticed he was asleep. Back pressed up against the couch, he had gone night-night before you! He was always out so late that that almost never happened! 
You turned the tv off, and then the lights, and curled up next to him. A long rest was really what you both needed
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