#peters fixation posting

[petersartstuff]

I've started posting the fanfic I've been working on!!! It's a heavy one but things will get better eventually I promise.

SUMMARY: Viktor dies of his illnesses before he starts being transformed by the Hexcore. Jayce will do anything to get him back.

For some reason my brain latched onto Viktor's (original) Deathsworn Viktor skin back when Season 1 first came out and I made this whole AU but never wrote it. Well. I'm finally making it! Blending Arcane, League, and HC lore for this.

[kxtio]

thinking abt my old textposts I made back in 2022…I never posted them anywhere so here

[vivitalks]

young and not too wise

relationships: kate bishop & peter parker

rating: T

total word count: 13.3k

important tags: post-hawkeye, post-spider-man: no way home, canon compliant, 3+1 things, angst, humor, hurt/comfort, kate bishop whump, peter parker whump, friendship, identity reveal

warnings: dognapping (HE'S FINE), kidnapping, non-consensual drug use (sedation), panic attacks, canon-typical violence & injury

summary:

Spider-Man does a double-take. “Kate?” he says, and then, stumblingly, “Uh, Bishop? From, uh, I— I recognize you from the— the…news.” “The news?” Kate’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about?” “Yeah, you’re the new Hawkeye,” Spider-Man says. “Right?” (Or: Three times Kate Bishop met Spider-Man, and the one time she learned his name.)

titular installment in the Kate & Peter New York Shenanigans series!! with a moodboard and everything, wow, production value has really gone up on fanfiction these days

[alovesicklunatic]

I saw an image and I knew what most be done <\3

I have no idea what the context of this image is, I just saw it and went “yup… it’s them.”

Original image ofc ^^

I butchered the image trying to crop the people out rip.

[pinktwinkiezoppo]

Me trying to explain how two characters from two different franchises are related to each other

[justsomerandohere]

remember when I said I was thinking about a how to train your dragon + Andy’s apple farm au?

Well I drew a concept-ish thing for it!

This is Andy’s dragon, Shuffle. She’s a Snafflefang!

(I drew a snafflefang from memory bc this was during Spanish class so she may not look super accurate but that’s okay)

[miraclespin]

So sorry for the wait; their birthday is coming up, so I decided that now would be a good time to have this poll:

Once again, I have my own opinions on the matter. Once this wraps up, I'm gonna have to come up with a ninth entry, and then sort through them all to better weed out any doubles, and make sure appropriate forms are assigned to the best suited characters- which might mean more polls in a similar vein in the future.

[helloarchivist]

Night Wolf dir. Jonathan Glendening

[petersartstuff]

Jayvik timeline hopping song. You can't change my mind. Also this song's just phenomenal regardless y'all should go listen to it.

[kaythefloppa]

There's also how Jake and the Neverland Pirates included a character that was only exclusive to the original Peter and Wendy book: The Never Bird.

Admittedly, in her debut appearance, she's the antagonist of the episode, but she later befriends and helps Jake and his crew. In the original book, she befriended and helped Peter Pan, which is not that far off.

For a preschoolers show that doesn't strictly abide by the franchise's canon, it's really clever with references to source material that even Disney's main animated canon overlooks.

Jake and the Neverland Pirates: Reusing Old Concepts for a New Generation’s Peter Pan

I know the Jake series isn’t super popular with a lot of serious Peter Pan fans because of how silly it is at times, but one thing I really loved about the show was how it repurposed concepts that were scrapped from the original Disney film and gave them new life.

For example, Mary Blair’s concept art for the Jolly Roger is very different from what we end up with in the final film with its bold striped sails.

The design didn’t quite fit with the story Disney wanted to tell. But for the Jake universe—with a more flamboyant Hook and a younger audience—it works perfectly.

We also get to explore plot points that didn’t make the final cut—such as the (very meta) question “What if Hook obtained a copy of Peter Pan?”

And—in the same episode—“What if Nana came with the children to Neverland?”

They even bring back Barrie’s concept of the “kiss” that Wendy wears on a chain around her neck in the final episode. (Where she ironically ends up saving Hook from his own greed and selfishness with an actual kiss on the cheek.)

So yeah... Say what you will, but I love the Jake series.

[societyfolklore]

Remember Me

Title: Remember Me

Pairing: Dark!Peter Parker x Female Reader

Summary:  Set Post No Way Home - Peter Parker has been forgotten by everyone he once held dear. Isolated and fraying at the edges, Peter fixates on a girl from his past- you when you show him the smallest kindness and unknowingly becomes the center of his unraveling.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, NON CON Dark psychological themes, Dubious consent / Non-consensual sexual content, Power imbalance (physical strength), Emotional manipulation, slight Obsession / Stalking mentions, Mentions of grief, trauma, and emotional isolation, Unreliable perspective / Twisted logic from a traumatized Peter Parker.

A/N:  Trying out a Peter Parker idea…. Poor broken puppy.. HE DOES MESSED UP THINGS!

Peter hadn’t expected much from life these days.

Not since the spell. Not since May. Not since he had handed over everything to keep the world safe and got nothing in return but silence.

His days weren’t truly quiet, not with his thoughts always moving, his body never really resting. He was still Spider-Man, after all. The world might have forgotten Peter Parker, but he hadn’t forgotten how to move through it. Silently. Restlessly. Like he was waiting for something to make the noise stop. A small, dim apartment in Queens, the constant hum of the city outside his cracked window. A phone that never rang. A fridge that hummed louder than his thoughts. Jobs that paid by the delivery, not the hour. No health insurance. No one to miss him if he crashed his bike during a run. No one even to know.

He kept his head down. Moved through life like smoke. Weightless. Invisible.

But he had started cutting through the park sometimes. It was faster. Trees made the ride cooler. And lately, there was music.

A flute.

At first, he had just noticed the melody drifting through the trees, soft, familiar. Something warm and bright in a life that had gone so dull. Like a hand reaching out from a dream.

The second time, he had found the source. You were perched on a low stone wall near the fountain. Your case was open for coins. Your eyes were closed, expression peaceful. Hair catching sunlight. Fingers dancing over the instrument like it was an extension of your soul. Something about you tugged at the edge of his memory. You looked familiar, but with everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure. Everyone was older now. Changed. Maybe he had saved you once as Spider-Man. Maybe you'd passed in the halls at school. The thought gnawed at him as he stopped nearby and unwrapped a sandwich. He ate slowly, watching you from the shade, trying to place the echo of your face in his fractured past.

It became routine. His rides were slower. He started adjusting his breaks to match your playing schedule. Sometimes you weren’t there, and he circled the park twice just to make sure. When you were, he lingered. Sitting on benches. Pretending to scroll his phone. Pretending he wasn’t waiting for your eyes to find his.

One afternoon, you played something different.

Something familiar.

Peter had frozen mid-ride, his bike wobbling to a stop. His heart had stuttered.

He knew that song. Knew it.

Marching band. Sophomore year. That fall when everything still made sense. Autumn games and stiff uniforms. Cracked lips from trumpet practice. Your flute somewhere nearby in the bleachers. Maybe you’d laughed at something he’d said once or maybe you’d just laughed, and he had told himself it was because of him. He wasn’t sure. The memory was soft around the edges, blurred with time and magic, but it clung to him all the same.

This was why he had recognized you. Not the park. Not a blurry face in the crowd. But this—this moment. That song. That memory.

It had hit him hard. Like he was sixteen again. Like the world hadn’t fallen apart.

Without thinking, he had dug into his pocket and tossed a few coins into your case.

You had glanced up, caught his eye.

You smiled.

"Hey you."

Just that. Casual. Offhand. Warm. Like it was nothing.

To Peter it was everything.

He had walked away before you could take it back, his heart thudding like he had just jumped off a rooftop.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~

He kept coming back. Every day now. Delivery or not, Peter Parker found a reason to pass through the park. Sometimes he told himself it was coincidence, that he was just taking the most efficient route. But he knew better. He wanted to see you. To hear that music. To catch a glimpse of something warm and alive in a world that had turned so cold.

Sometimes, when you packed up early, he followed you at a distance. One afternoon, he’d trailed you all the way back to your building after catching a glimpse of you while patrolling rooftops. He told himself it was for your safety. That it wasn’t weird. That it didn’t mean anything that he sometimes perched on a nearby rooftop and watched your window glow into the evening, his fingers clenched around the edge of the ledge like the bricks might give him something to hold onto. Something real.

Some days you said hi. Just a word, a glance, a smile that lingered too long in his memory. Sometimes you just nodded, focused on your playing, brow furrowed as your fingers danced with precision and grace. Once, a gust of wind had scattered your sheet music across the grass and he had dropped his bike without a second thought, sprinting to help catch it before it was ruined. You had laughed, cheeks pink, breathless from chasing pages. You’d thanked him, called him a lifesaver, your eyes lighting up like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His face had burned for hours after.

He memorized everything about you. How you sat. The curve of your fingers. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear when it got in the way. The snacks you liked, trail mix and peach rings. The way you hummed softly between songs, completely unaware you were doing it. He knew which shoes you wore on long days, the chipped polish on your thumbnail, the gentle sway of your body when you played with your eyes closed.

You’d become his routine. His comfort. His obsession.

Eventually, he had asked you out. It had taken him three tries to get the words out. His voice had cracked the first time, failed him the second, but the third time, on a cooler Thursday afternoon you had looked up, surprised. Hesitated just long enough for panic to bloom in his chest. But then you had smiled. That smile. And said yes.

He hadn’t slept the night before. His mind had raced, imagining every possible conversation, every touch, every look. What you might wear. What he should say. How he could make you see him- really see him. Not just as some awkward stranger with delivery bags and a nervous laugh. But as someone who mattered.

You had noticed him before. The boy on the bike. Cute in a scruffy, slightly awkward way. He looked about your age, maybe a year older. He wasn’t the only person who passed by regularly., there were the lunchtime walkers, the young moms with strollers, the joggers who circled like clockwork. But something about him stood out. The way he lingered. How he always seemed to stop nearby when you played.

Busking was never just about the money. It was about watching people. Sharing your music. About trying to make life feel normal in times that never quite felt normal anymore. Not since the Blip. Not with aliens, mad Titans, Avengers, and heroes flying overhead like they belonged more than you did.

He stopped a lot. First it was just a few coins in your case, then a note or two. You’d noticed him, sure. The cute boy on the bike who looked to be about your age. He lingered more than most. One of the reasons you busked was to people-watch, to share something gentle in a world that never quite felt gentle anymore. Music helped life feel normal. Whatever that meant now. Not with aliens, Blips, mad Titans, Avengers and heroes turning the sky upside down.

You’d spotted him watching you more than once. Eating lunch nearby. Pretending not to glance up every time you played something new. You hadn’t thought it meant anything. Just someone you noticed. Like the regulars on their lunch walks or the young mothers who pushed strollers past you every day.

It wasn’t until your music flew away- pages lifted suddenly by a strong breeze and he darted out, catching them with sharp, impossibly fast movements that you thought for half a second the Matrix had glitched.

But when he talked to you afterward, all you saw was someone painfully shy. Awkward like a puppy that hadn’t gotten used to his own growing legs. So why wouldn’t you say yes to a coffee date? What harm could come from a single cup of coffee?

The date had been... okay. Not bad. Not great. Just... stilted. You talked, filling the silence because he didn’t. He watched you too intently. Laughed at odd moments. Gave you compliments that were strange, thoughtful, but almost unsettling in their precision.

At one point, somewhere between the coffee cooling in your cup and the awkward silence that had stretched a bit too long, he asked, "Do you still get a chance to draw?"

You blinked. "Draw? I-" Of course you did. You loved to draw. It was why you were hoping to get into art school next year. "How did you-"

"Oh," he interrupted quickly, shrugging a shoulder, not quite meeting your eye. "Your busking sign. It’s just really nice. Figured you made it yourself. Thought maybe you were into art or something."

It was a plausible excuse. Just enough truth to hold up. But it still left you with a weird feeling you couldn’t quite shake.

You’d chalked it up to nerves. Maybe he was just shy. You’d been kind. You always tried to be kind. He seemed like someone who didn’t quite know how to exist in his own skin, like every word took effort and every pause stretched too long. Something about him made you feel like he hadn’t talked to someone properly in a long time.

Still, by the time you reached your apartment, there was a heaviness in your chest. The air around you felt thick, almost reluctant. You had tried to brush it off, first dates were always weird, right? Not everyone was good at them.

You stood outside your apartment a moment too long. The door was right there, the keys in your hand, but you hesitated. Just long enough.

You smiled. A polite, practiced thing. "Thanks for the coffee. It was nice."

He had leaned in, tentative, eyes flicking to your mouth. You hadn’t expected it, but you didn’t move away.

You had let him kiss you. Just a quick brush of lips. Nothing deep. Nothing serious.

But you could feel the way he trembled like it meant more to him than it should have. Like the contact had cracked something open in him that he’d been keeping sealed too tight.

Then you had pulled back. Shifted your keys in your hand. You didn’t want to be rude, but something about the way he looked at you after the kiss - it had made your skin prickle. Not because it was bad, just... too much. Like he had been starving and you’d handed him a feast.

"Okay, well... goodnight, Peter."

You had turned, voice light but firm. A soft boundary. A cue to end the night.

You reached for the door handle. Just as it clicked, his foot slid into the frame.

"Wait."

Startled, you had looked up. "Peter?"

He wasn’t smiling. His voice didn’t match the quiet boy from earlier. His shoulders were stiff now, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides like he was holding something back. There was a tension to him you hadn’t seen before, a coiled readiness, barely leashed.

"Don’t go. Not yet."

Your smile had faltered, the keys in your palm digging into your skin now. "It's late. I don’t really know you that well..."

His eyes had darkened. Something sharp flickered behind them, and your pulse stuttered.

"But you do know me."

You paused, unease spreading through your chest. "What?"

He had stepped closer. Not violent. Not yet. But the shift was unmistakable. The energy changed, like a string pulled taut.

"You said hey. You smiled. You looked at me like I was real. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

There was something unraveling in his voice, something that made your stomach twist.

Your voice had tightened, instinct kicking in. "Peter, I think maybe you should go."

He had shaken his head slowly, like you’d spoken a foreign language. Like you hadn’t understood the part you were meant to play in his mind.

"I lost everyone," he had murmured. "May. MJ. Ned. No one remembers me. No one sees me. I’m no one. But you… you looked at me like I mattered."

Your heart skipped.

Wait- MJ? Ned?

Those names hit like ice water to the chest. They weren’t just names. They were names you knew. Names from your old high school. You didn’t even realize he’d said them all until they echoed inside your skull like a warning bell.

How the hell did he know them?

Your blood ran cold. Your breath caught in your throat.

"Peter-"

His hand brushed your cheek. Too soft. Too deliberate. Like he thought he had a right to touch you. Like this was some scene he'd played out in his head over and over until he believed it was real.

"You do know me. Somewhere in there, you remember. I know you do."

You took a shaky step back. The hallway suddenly felt too small, too quiet, like the world had narrowed into this moment and there was nowhere left to go.

Your voice cracked. "Peter, stop. Please."

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t.

When you tried to close the door, he had pushed it open like it weighed nothing—like you’d never stood a chance against him. The frame creaked violently under his hand, swinging wide with impossible strength. The door didn’t even resist him—it flew back, banging into the wall with a sound that made your breath seize.

You stumbled back, nearly tripping over your own feet, heart slamming in your chest as the reality of just how strong he was came crashing down on you. Not metaphorically. Not some passing thought. Physically. Overpoweringly.

You barely had time to scream. The panic surged like lightning through your veins, cold and disorienting. Your body screamed at you to run, to fight, to do something—but your limbs weren’t listening. Every part of you was frozen, every cell electrified with dread, your thoughts tripping over themselves in a whirlwind of fear. You had never felt so small. So powerless.

The door had slammed behind you. And you were trapped.

Peter grabbed you. His hands were too tight on your arms, fingers digging in just enough to remind you how much stronger he really was. His breath came fast and ragged, the air between you hot and suffocating. He kissed you again. Rougher this time. More insistent. Like he was chasing something just out of reach. Like he needed it to fix whatever was broken inside him.

You didn't kiss back. But you didn’t pull away either.

Because what if you did?

What if he got angrier? What if he hurt you? What if this- this trembling, desperate version of him was the only thing standing between fear and violence?

So you didn’t fight him.

You tried to speak, voice soft and shaking. “We can keep talking, Peter... okay? Just- just slow down.”

“No,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours. “No, you need to remember. God, please just remember.”

As Peter's lips crashed against yours again, his hands tightened around your arms, holding you in place. You tried to speak, to plead with him to stop, but your words were lost in the chaos of his kiss. His breath was hot and ragged, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth as he deepened the kiss.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry. I need this, need you to touch me. Please... if you can't remember then just touch me.."

You felt a surge of fear as he lifted you off the ground, his arms wrapping around you like a vice. You tried to struggle, to push him away, but he was too strong,. Peter carried you to the bed, tossing you down onto the pillows as he followed, his body pinning you beneath him his hands already push up the skirt you'd been wearing caging you in, her breathing hard in your chest.  "I just need, need you, need someone. Please..." His mouth was on yours again, swallowing any protests, smothering the edge of your voice with something desperate and raw. You could feel his tears now wet trails you hadn't seen fall spilling onto your cheeks, warm and aching. He pulled back just enough for you to catch your breath, but not enough to give you space.

Somewhere in your panic, your chest ached- not from fear alone, but something more twisted. The crushing sense that he wasn’t just dangerous- he was grieving. Drowning in it. And for a moment, that grief wrapped around you as tightly as his arms.

You didn’t know what he’d been through. What he'd lost. But you knew the sound of someone who was breaking. You'd heard it in your own voice, in the city’s silence after the blip, in the news anchors whispering names with trembling lips.

He was so alone. You could almost taste it when his tongue slid into your mouth, trembling and uncoordinated. Not hungry. Not lustful. Just desperate.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your body still hadn’t decided what was safer: running or staying still.

But your mind whispered the same thing again and again.

Make it better.

That’s what you did. You helped. You soothed. You made people happy. You kept the world soft when it went too sharp.

And right now, he needed something soft. Needed something human.

So you didn’t say no.

You didn’t say anything at all.

You felt his body shift above yours, felt the tight restraint in his muscles even as he tried to be gentle—tried to seem gentle. His weight pressed into you, his body tense, like he expected you to disappear if he didn’t hold you still. Like he was afraid you’d vanish like everyone else.

You were scared- terrified- but your limbs stayed heavy. Your mind raced, but your voice was gone. Every instinct told you to stay calm, to stay quiet, to keep this moment from tipping any further. You didn’t know what he’d do if you resisted. You weren’t sure he did either.

He cupped your face with shaking hands. His cheeks were wet with tears that still hadn’t stopped. His voice cracked. “I don’t want to scare you. I just- I need this. I need you. Just this once. Please… just stay.”

You swallowed hard. Every word lodged in your throat. Your fingers trembled where they lay frozen against the bedspread.

“Peter” you whispered

His breath caught, like that was all he’d ever needed. You weren’t sure if you meant it to soothe him or yourself.

He leaned down, his forehead brushing yours again, slower this time. His lips pressed to your temple, your cheek, your jaw- clumsy and reverent and utterly wrecked.

You closed your eyes.

You didn’t fight.

And when he began to move, you let him. Let him pull off your underwear. You didn’t fight when he took off your dress, and you didn’t stop him when he tugged his own shirt over his head, revealing a lean chest that trembled with the weight of what he was doing. His hands shook slightly as he fumbled with his belt, shedding his jeans in a rush like the fabric was keeping him from getting closer to you. You couldn’t look away. Couldn’t speak. Just watched him undress, vulnerable and exposed in more ways than one, until he returned to you like he hadn’t taken a single breath without you under him. 

It felt safer to give him this piece of yourself than to see what he might become if you didn’t.  Peter moved your legs, opening them with slow, trembling hands. His touch was careful but insistent, as if trying to commit the shape of you to memory. His palms skimmed over your thighs, petting softly, reverently, like he couldn’t believe you were real. Mumbled whispers slipped from his lips- fragments of apologies, gratitude, promises not to forget. Not to let go. His breath caught as he positioned himself, voice hoarse and thick with emotion.

He filled you like an invasion. Not rough, no, he was still trying to be soft, trying to be tender- but there was no mistaking the tremble in his limbs or the desperation in the way he pushed into you, like he could bury everything he’d lost inside you and find himself again. It wasn’t pain, not really. But it wasn’t comfort either. It was too much. Too sudden. His body was solid against yours, lean and muscular in ways his awkward posture had hidden.

You gasped when he moved, your breath catching on a sob with the first slow thrust, your body stretching around him in protest. But the ache was fleeting. It was quickly swallowed by heat.

Because it wasn’t just fear thrumming in your veins- it was instinct. It was the softness of his lips, the tremble in his hands, the way his kisses fell like apologies against your skin. It was the way your body reacted, even against your will, to every press of his hips and the quiet, broken noises he made as he whispered your name.

"You feel so good," he breathed into your neck, like it was a secret he couldn’t believe he was allowed to say. His voice cracked as he moved again, deeper this time. "God, thank you. Thank you."

And then, he thrust harder.

Not out of cruelty, but out of urgency. His body moved with more force, more need, like he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Each push drove deeper, pressing you further into the mattress. Your breath hitched. Your back arched.

It still felt like too much, like your body hadn’t caught up to what was happening—but it also sent lightning through your nerves. That awful twist of panic and arousal tangled in your gut, impossible to separate. Your heart pounded against your ribs, fear and sensation blurring together until your skin felt too hot to hold in place.

"I missed this. I missed everyone," he murmured, though you’d never given him this before. He pressed kisses to your jaw, your throat, your shoulder, feverish and fragile. "Please don’t forget again. Please…"

You couldn’t believe it felt good. But it did. Your body betrayed you with each helpless pulse of pleasure. Every kiss he pressed to your skin made you feel smaller, softer, more lost in a sea of his need.

You wanted him to stop. You wanted him to keep going. You wanted him to be someone else. You wanted this to mean nothing. You wanted it to mean everything.

He clung tighter, hips moving faster, gasping your name into your throat like it was a lifeline.

“God,” he breathed, voice thick and desperate. “You feel so good. I didn’t know I needed this-I didn’t know how much-”

You could barely breathe beneath the weight of him, the rhythm of his thrusts speeding up, deeper now, more erratic. Each push drew a soft sound from your lips you didn’t mean to give. Your body burned with the storm of sensation and fear and heat. It was like standing in front of a fire, unsure if it would warm you or consume you whole.

He pressed kisses to your temple, murmuring between them. “Thank you… thank you… thank you.”

And then, like your body had betrayed you completely, your climax rushed toward you with no warning. Your muscles tensed, breath catching, pleasure crashing over you in a blur of heat and confusion. You weren’t sure if you cried out or just gasped- but he felt it.

Peter groaned, burying his face in your neck as he followed you over the edge. His body trembled with release, his breath hitching against your skin. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he kept whispering, voice cracking under the weight of it.

You stayed still. You didn’t move. Your skin was hot and damp, your chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. A dull ache throbbed between your legs, not sharp but deep, your limbs tingling with a raw mix of overstimulation and disbelief. Your fingers twitched against the sheets, barely able to grasp the shape of what you'd just let happen.

He wrapped his arms around you like a blanket, holding you so tight you could hardly breathe. You stared up at the ceiling, dazed and sore, your mind numb and scattered. The sticky, wet mess he left inside you had already begun to slide down your thighs, pooling uncomfortably between them. You felt coated, used, like the heat and guilt clinging to your skin wouldn’t ever come off. It made your stomach turn, and still- you didn’t move.

His heartbeat thudded against your shoulder, uneven and too fast, like he hadn’t come down from whatever place he'd gone to. He sighed, nuzzling against your skin like he was trying to melt into you, like you were a lifeline he was terrified to lose.

You swallowed, throat dry. “Peter?”

“Shhh…” he cooed, brushing your hair back from your face with shaking fingers. The gesture was gentle, almost tender, but it sent a chill down your spine. It didn’t feel like comfort- it felt like control. Like you were being soothed the way someone might hush a child or calm a frightened pet. It made your skin crawl even as you stayed still, the weight of his hand too much and not enough all at once. His eyes were still damp, rimmed red with guilt. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. Yeah?”

You hesitated, your lips parting before you could find anything solid to say.

So you nodded.

Because you didn’t know what else to do. Because saying no felt too big. Too late.

He pressed a kiss to your temple like a promise, curling around you tighter. His arms were heavy and warm. His breath still trembled.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. I’m not going to disappear. You’re not going anywhere. Just… be here.”

The words were meant to soothe, but they didn’t.

They curled around you like a net, binding instead of calming. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but your chest still felt tight, like your lungs didn’t trust the air. Your limbs remained heavy, pinned by more than just his embrace.

You didn’t feel safe. You didn’t feel comforted.

You felt hollow.

Like something inside you had gone missing, or maybe just caved in. His embrace was too tight, too warm, and your skin buzzed with a tension you couldn’t shake. You couldn’t tell if you were still holding your breath or if your body had simply forgotten how to breathe.

And you lay there in silence, the ceiling a blur above you, the room too quiet.

You weren’t sure what had just happened.

But you knew it had changed everything. "Not going anywhere.." 

[unearthlyeclipse]

PETER QUILL :: STARLORD P! LINKS + SCENARIOS // NSFW/SMUT

A/N: Ermmm,,, I've never posted on Tumblr so hopefully these little scenarios are cool and if you'd like to request a character I'll try my best to fulfill!! Rather, it be links or just a small paragraph or two :3c

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, fluff, overstimulation, squirting, pet names, mutual masturbation, morning sex/sex toys, dry humping, grinding, implied wet dream/morning wood, titfucking, cunnilingus, teasing.

You and Peter had just stepped foot on the ship after a long mission. Being out for at least a week, you both had truly lost track. As you let out an exasperated sigh, flopping down on your bed, Peter came up behind you, his hand cupping your waist. After a few moments of feeling you up through your uniform, Peter moved you to straddle his hips and tore a hole through your pants. "Sorry, couldn't resist 'ya." He quickly prodded his own cock against your entrance, his fingers massaging the fat of your thighs lovingly.

Peter had opened the door to his quarters, ready to take a long nap after a rough solo mission, but was met with you only in black lingerie that he had gifted you for your birthday, cuddling up and hugging one of his pillows. He walked over to examine you, his eyes fixated on the garter on your thighs, before he grabbed you by your hips, pulling you towards the end of the bed. "Can't believe you thought of me like this, sweetheart. What a gift." You knew you were in for a long night once he kicked off his pants and briefs, letting his hardened length grind against your clothed heat. "You wouldn't mind?"

You were lying side by side in your own bed, shoulders touching, while moans sputtered from each of your lips. You held a vibrator to your clit, hips jolting and thrusting forward just as Peter's did, fucking up into his cheap fleshlight with slow pumps of his hand to meet each motion. You challenged not to touch each other, but you didn't realize how difficult it was turning out as Peter continued to groan, turning just a bit to watch as the vibrator worked its magic on your clit. Such a perverted date.

Peter pounded into you roughly, allowing himself to plow into your abused cunt after you told him to use you however he pleased. You figured that he would be stressed from his guardian duties, so you wanted him to blow off some steam, you being the perfect way to do that. You tossed on some lingerie and bent yourself over on his bed, Peter kissing your back lovingly. He leaned into your ear, whispering, "Let me know when it's too much." Of course, you two implemented a green light signal just in case Peter gets too rowdy, but the way he fucked your cunt like it was nothing left you screaming in pleasure, crying over a feeling you never thought could get any better, not to mention orgasming over and over again.

Quill and you were sleeping together in your bed, a line of drool seeping from his lips while you were hugging his body. You were both in tank tops and shorts beneath a thin blanket sheet. His eyes fluttered open from small gasps emitted by you, slowly realizing that you were grinding your clothed cunt against his muscular thigh, your chest against his as while you moaned louder with each movement. He watched you, his expression dazed, before he moved a hand to your hip and gently turned you over. You slowly began to wake up just as Peter tugged your shorts and panties down, letting his index and middle finger glide between your folds while the other hand began to lift the hem of your tank top. "Good morning," You smiled sleepily. He snorted, pressing a kiss to your neck, grinding his bulge against your thigh just as you had earlier. "Were you even asleep?"

Nothing but moans and wet slaps filled the room just as Peter was within your convulsing walls. Peter's hand was wrapped behind your back while yours were clawing at his back, scratching desperately for more despite both of your shared overstimulation. Tears flowed from your eyes like a waterfall while Peter groaned like an animal while he fucked you through each of your orgasms, continuing to pull more from you with each deep thrust. "J-Just breathe... you're doing so good, s-so good..." He muttered, words repeating like a broken record. He truly couldn't pull himself out of you.

"Nobody is here, Pete.” You hummed while making yourself a bowl of cereal, Peter having walked in shirtless with only a pair of night pants on. As you poured the milk into the filled bowl, Peter came up behind you and lifted you by your waist onto the countertop, quick to litter your face and neck with slow, sensual kisses. “Should’ve said that a long time ago… I’ve been waiting.” He chuckled, removing his clothing before yours, giving him more access to your bare skin. “What an eventful morning,” you gasped playfully, a hand combing through his soft curls, “I suppose my breakfast may have to wait.”

Peter lapped at your folds greedily like a starved man, his lips suckling your clit and his tongue swirling to collect your juices. You were moaning endlessly, hips bucking and grinding against his face to further the pleasure for both of you. He began to jerk his head in a steady rhythm to match your hips, causing you to nearly scream. You ran your hands through his hair, gripping and tugging his face closely as his groans vibrated against your cunt. Peter's eyes locked with yours through his lashes, wincing from your grip on his locks while muttering lowly, barely loud enough to make out any words. "Just— Just like that... Keep going, baby—baby doll…" His words continued to vibrate against your clit, making you throw your head back in bliss.

You both have always been touchy lovers, experimental, and always excited to try something new occasionally. Peter had asked to try tit-fucking you, to which you giddily agreed. He had you lie down in his bed, then he teasingly removed your shirt, "barely" noticing the fishnet long sleeve you wore beneath. He grew flustered, but it was so easy to tell it was all an act before he began to grope your breasts, tweaking both nipples between each of his hands. You hummed in satisfaction as his rough fingerpads toyed with your nipples, pinching and pulling just enough to get you drenched. After a few minutes of foreplay on your breasts, he moves his hips to straddle the area just below your chest, his length resting on your mounds before he slips between them with a groan, your soft flesh wrapping around his warm cock snuggly. "You really liked the fishnet, huh, Pete?" You teased. “Was it really that noticeable..?”

[notquitecanon]

Not Quite Canon's Masterlist:

Just another multifandom imagines blog. All works are dated- so you can date my progress and track as my ADHD brain jumps from one hyper-fixation to the next

** Indicated NSFW. 18+ MDNI

Do Not Repost! Please and Thanks <3

Requests/asks are always open, the rat in my brain likes receiving little messages and notes of inspiration :)))

Works & Playlists below the cut!

Criminal Minds x Marvel crossover 2019, unfinished (masterlist)

Marvel: 

Spangled Stars || Steve Rogers x Reader (2019)  Whiplash || Peter Maximoff x Reader (2019)  Like a Good Neighbor || Bucky Barnes x Reader (2019)  Chance Encounter || Spiderman x Reader (2020)  Look at You || Moon Knight system x reader (2023) **  Call Me… || Matt Murdock x Reader (2024) 

See Also: Miguel O' Hara Playlist on Spotify 🎧 Criminal Minds / Marvel Crossover listed above ^^

Criminal Minds:

Christmas Vacation || Spencer Reid x Reader (2019)  Fun Facts || Spencer Reid x Reader (2020) Thief! || Spencer Reid x Reader (2020)  Missing || Spencer Reid x Reader (2020) 

See Also: Criminal Minds / Marvel Crossover listed above ^^

John Wick:

First Impressions || John Wick x Reader (2020)  With & Without || John Wick x Reader (2021) 

DC Comics:  

Zero Stars || Adrian Chase x Reader (2022)  Beverage Napkin || Adrian Chase x Reader (2022)  Stop Worrying || Adrian Chase x Reader (2022)  Ghosting || John Constantine x Reader (2023)

See Also: Adrian Chase Spotify Playlist 🎧

Ghostbusters: 

Here, Let Me || Dr. Egon Spenger x Reader (2021)  Mandatory Attendance || Dr. Egon Spengler x Reader (2021)  Happy Golden Days || Dr. Ray Stantz x Reader  Snow || Dr. Egon Spengler x Reader (2022)  For Emergencies Only || Dr. Egon Spengler (2022)   >Part 2   (Metaphorical Rescue Eggroll) >Part 3  (The Love Hypothetical) Dust and Motor Oil || Dr. Ray Stantz x Reader (2022)  Stardust & Fungi || Dr. Egon Spengler x Reader (2022)  Tell ‘em bout the Twinkie || Dr. Egon Spengler x extroverted!Reader (2023)  Hypno!kink headcanon (2022) (plotbunny free to good home) ** See Also: Ray Stantz Spotify Playlist 🎧 I Wanna Be Ghostbuster Playlist 🎧

That 70s Show:

First Dates || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020)  Snowed In || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020)  Comfort || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020)  Slippery & Cold || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020) ** 4 Things Steven Hyde Agreed To & 1 He Didn’t || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020)

Star Wars: 

From the Start || Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x Reader (2019)  Strings || Obi-Wan Kenobi x Politician!Reader (2020)  Disappointment || Kylo Ren x Reader (2020) ** Sacrifice and Devotion || Din Djarin x Reader ( 2023)  See Also: Din Djarin Playlist on Spotify 🎧

Twilight: 

Cowardice || Jasper Hale x Reader (2020)  Bad Moods || Jasper Hale x Reader (2020)  Attitude Adjustment || Jasper Hale x Reader (2020)  The Moment Before Eternity || Carlisle Cullen x Reader (2020)  Firsts || Carlisle Cullen x Reader (2020)  Spiked Punch || Jasper Hale x Reader (2021)  GTA || Jasper Hale x Reader (2021)

Baldur’s Gate 3: 

Insufferably Admirable || Astarion x Reader (2023)   > Part 2 (Foolishly Admirable - 2024)   See Also: Astarion || The Pale Elf playlist on spotify 🎧

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare: 

Keep Talking || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2024) ** Warmth || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2024)  Dense || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2024)  A thought about Poly!141 x Reader (2024) ** >>Search History || Poly!141 x Reader (2024) ** >> Virtual Breadcrumbs || Poly!141 x Reader (2024) (Part 1.5) ** >> IRL Plug and Play || Poly!141 x reader (2025) (Part 3) ** ~~~~Any additional asks or headcanons are posted under the #searchhistory on my blog!

Familiar and Whiskey || Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (2024)** Some clever sleep pun title || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2025)

See Also: POV: ur in love with Johnny "Soap" McTavish playlist 🎧

POV: ur in love with Simon “Ghost” Riley 🎧

[polutrope]

As TRSB reveals approach, a few reminders to creators based on past experience:

Hundreds of long fics are about to drop in one fandom at the same time.

It is not realistic to expect comments and kudos on a 5k+ word fic in the first few hours, or even days, of posting. Be patient.

Be so so careful about the downward spiral of speculating on why your fic isn't being read first, why something else is more popular, etc etc. You don't know. You can't know. Conserve that mental energy.

Yes, it's exciting and you probably want to read all those new fics! But if you're finding it too hard to read without also comparing and fixating on your own fic, it's okay to walk away from the computer/phone and do something else. Your friends and favourite authors will be delighted to hear your reactions when the initial period of engagement has petered off and you feel more resilient.

Relatedly, you are not a bad person for comparing or feeling envy. This is a normal human emotion and a rational evolutionary reaction to feeling unnoticed/left out/unprotected by "the group". We evolved this way. Acknowledge that feeling, take time to consider why you're having it, and be nice to yourself.

And to readers:

It is NOT WEIRD to leave a comment after 24-48 hours. Please, please, please internalise this. I know it feels "wrong" in our culture of rapid-fire "content" but it's NOT. The most disappointing/defeating thing to me as a creator is passing that 24-hour mark and accepting that that's probably all the comments I'm going to get. Prove me wrong, please.

And please no one send anon messages complaining about unsolicited advice. If it doesn't apply to you, ignore it.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Kira’s Masterlist

Mafia Trilogy, Mortal Kombat, Invincible, D.C., Marvel, The Hunger Games, House of Ashes, Slashers, Apex, Overwatch, TWDG, StarWars, Borderlands,..work in progress

Mafia Trilogy

Members Yandere types

Tommy Angelo

How many kids would he have?

Paulie Lombardo

¡Yandere! Paulie protects you

How many kids would he have?

How would he be as a dad?

Sam Trapani

¡Yandere!Sam getting rid of your admirer

Bonus pt.2^

Yandere alphabet-ABIJ

Yandere fluff

How many kids would he have?

How would he be as a dad?

Vito Scaletta

Dad Scaletta

Time traveler reader

Time traveler pt.2

Yandere Alphabet

Mortal Kombat 1, 11, and X

Mk11 and 1 w/ low emotional intelligence darling

Mk11 Yandere sub-zero and scorpion

Yandere MK11 harem x reader

Yandere MK11 harem pt.2

revenant harem w/ queen darling

Fluffy Kira’s favorites with a clingy s/o

Yandere Johnny,Lao and Erron with a darling in a wedding dress

Kung Lao

General Yandere headcannons

Comforts you from somniphobia/noctophobia

Erron Black

He kidnaps you

masochist drabble

Johnny Cage

Platonic yandere with a young star

Yandere Alphabet

Yandere Johnny w/ singer! S/O

Kenshi

yandere kenshi who is obsessed w/ your touch

Raiden

Yandere Raiden take cares of sick darling

Yandere Raiden with disabled darling

Yandere Raiden sleepwatches you

Yandere Raiden harem

Baraka

Soft yandere drabbles

Mark Grayson

Yan! Mark grayson gets jealous over your friends

Yan! Mark w/ rebel darling

DC

platonic yan! batboys reacting to you dating

Mark Grayson w/batsis (crackkkk)

platonic yan! jason x dick x batsis

Weaponized incompetence discussion post

Yan! Platonic! Jason and Dick w/ understanding batsis darling batboys w/ Autisic reader w/ oral fixation Batfam reacting to affectionate batsis

creep! Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon w/ darling that's taking a shower

Jason Todd

Platonic !yan¡ Jason w/ batsis darling

Platonic yan! Jason w/batsis that died by the joker with him

Platonic yan! Jason’s reaction to you dying and coming back

Dick Grayson

Platonic !yan! Dick w/ batsis darling

discussion post ^

Platonic!yan! Dick w/ bullied batsis

Romantic!yan! Dick w/baby trapped darling

Romantic! Yan! Dick kissing Drabble

Batsis reacts to cheating dick Grayson platonic yan!

Discussion post^^

"Attagirl"

How would Dick’s partner react to his obsession w/ bats is

Tim Drake

platonic!yan! Tim w/ batsis reader

Batchild! w/ platonic!Yan! Tim

Platonic! Yan! Tim w/ medic batsis

Bruce Wayne

Platonic Yan! Bruce w/ robin darling

Damian Wayne

Platonic Damian w/ assassin batsis

Super-family

General hcs w/ platonic yan! Superfam

Marvel

PS5 Peter Parker

yan! Peter x Yan! Harry x reader headcanons yan! Peter w/ darling at coney island

TASM! Peter Parker

Yan!peter kiddnapping darling who is visiting him

NWH! Peter Parker

Yan!peter Parker w/ darling who knows he’s a stalker

Yan!peter Parker reacting to villain darling from another universe

[z-eel]

I'm here with my tongue out for you again. that poly marauders post was so cute I wanted to ask you how you see poly marauders with cockwarming? there are so many possibilities and I'm drooling for it... pretty pretty please 🥺

love how you immediately fish for the nsfw content...

James is a professional cock warmer. he has an oral fixation and has a bad habit of talking too much sometimes. he just needs something to keep him occupied. like if any one need a cock wamer James is the first to volunteer. he tends to favor Peter because of girth (also Peter just really like seeing him on his knees) James could remain like that for hours, fall asleep with the weight and often misses it during odd hours of the day.

Sirius is used as a cock warmer as a form of punishment. Sirius like to fuck, like the movement, likes the feeling (its why he gets desperate when he’s being fucked slowly) being forced to hold still make him enter a headspace he's not used to, it makes him feel dazed for hours.

Remus is a cock warmer when he's sleeping. some night the boys just take turns using Remus (it's mostly James since he really like fucking Remus when he's sleeping) but also it allows Remus to be the little spoon and he loves it.

Peter rarley cockwarms, mostly because he doesn't find relief in it like the other do (the other being James and Sirius and for Remus its more of a means to an end) if anything his cock is the one being warmed the most, but he's more than willing to do if one of the others ask (Sirius, because he like to pretend he has some control, he doesn't buf he gets off on the idea of it)