#peter parker ficlet

[forever-ev]

Mom!reader being upset postpartum and starting to get her pink back

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Peter sits in the rocking chair in Charlotte's nursery, swaying back and forth with your newborn daughter. You walk in and just stare at the sight of your beloved husband and daughter.

"I can't sleep." You say softly.

"Yeah? I'll go lay with you once I put her in her bassinet."

Peter gets up carefully and walks with you back to your bedroom. Charlotte is placed in her bassinet and you two lean against your headboard.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to change her myself." You whisper.

"Baby, you deserve to sleep. You pushed a whole ass human out of you only a few weeks ago. It's my job to take care of her too."

"Yeah, I just feel guilty. I feel like I could be doing more, and I know I've had my almost four trimesters of this, but I just feel gross and tired, and I should feel just love."

"I know you love her, sweetheart, and I'm so proud of you. You are her food source and previously the only thing sustaining her. It's okay for things not to be perfect."

"It's just hard for me to feel blissful when she spit up in my hair earlier and I'm exhausted and bleeding." You groan.

"You have a dinner plate sized wound in your uterus, baby, you're going to feel awful for a bit." He chuckles softly.

"Where'd you hear that?" Your brows furrow and you laugh in shock.

"The nurses when you had her. I was freaking out and they were trying to calm me down with weird facts." Peter laughs along with you.

"Oh, Pete...what did I do to deserve you?" You shake your head.

"Just being you. You deserve every part of this including the baby spitting up on you."

"Whatever." You snort. "Would it be bad if I showered and got dressed up just for fun? I know it's four in the morning but I feel so ugly and gross so maybe that'd help."

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You walk into the living room to see Peter bouncing Charlotte gently while holding her against his chest. He gasps then holds her up closer to you.

"Awww, look at mommy, Charlie. Isn't she so pretty?" He coos.

You giggle and reach for your baby, "Hi, baby...oh, you stink. Does daddy need to change you?"

"Oh, I need to change her?" He laughs.

"Yeah, I thought it was your job too."

"Don't weaponize my own words." He groans but takes her anyway.

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[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[astermagnolia]

Danny and Peter run into Jason: one-shot based on my most recent post

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Danny sighed as he shivered, still trying to get used to the spider-sense. From what he and Peter could tell it's barely only been a month since their situation and by far Spider sense has been the most annoying ability to try and learn.

"Peter tingle sucks, man," Danny mutters under his breath lest he get confused stares.

"Please for the love of everything, stop calling it peter tingle." Peter begged. If he was in control of his body at the moment he's sure his head would be on his head.

Danny's... housemate? Body...mate? Ew, no not that one. Headmate. Yeah, headmate, tried his best to explain how his sixth sense worked and how to deal with it but Danny still gets freaked out by it. Even when he's not driving the body

"Well, maybe if i didn't get tingles and shivers every time i would call it accordingly."

"It's just warning you of danger."

"Dude, we're currently staying in an area called crime alley near a place called the narrows in a city where crime is rampant. Gotham is ranked number one for 'one of the most crime-ridden cities'," Danny ranted, trying to keep his voice low and head down.

That little nugget of information was great to learn when they were doing their research. On top of learning that aliens exist and the police were corrupt. Though that last one wasn't too surprising.

"I mean, if we moved..."

"We barely have enough to feed ourselves plus your crazy metabolism. We can't move and then struggle to find a good place to bunk." Danny sighed again.

Trying to find a job is the most difficult thing at the moment considering they didn't have any ID—or any proof of existence in this world—and the fact they looked so young.

Danny took stealing from people, much to chagrin if Peter. He swore up and down he was stealing from wealthy people.

Peter on the other hand, when he was in control of his body, would try and fix anything from anyone within the area. People have started calling him 'tinkerer' and. Funnily enough, the guy who buys the stuff Danny steals calls him 'furittus'.

"Hey, look." Peter grabbed Danny's attention to what's ahead of them.

In front of them is a nice red motorcycle, the glossy coat reflecting the soft glow of the nighttime city. It was just sitting idle and unattended with no one near it or in sight.

Danny whistled appreciatively and walked closer to it. "D'ya recognize it, Pete?"

"Hmm, I think it's a Honda CB750 but...it looks heavily modified. That would cost a lot." Peter noted with a hint of admiration in his voice.

Danny hummed in thought, a playful smile growing in his face.

"Think i could steal it?" He joked.

"No!"

Danny blinked as the word practically echoed in his head, "Ow."

Pete huffed. If he had his body he would cross them and he would have a frown on his face. "Sorry for yelling, but also, that's a horrible idea. It would have cost the person so much time and money to modify the bike."

Danny rolled his eyes, "If it meant so much they wouldn't have left it here in the middle of crime alley. Just the wheels at least."

Peter sighed, "You don't even have any tools. How are you going to take the wheels?"

Danny smirked as he lifted their hand and turned it intangible. At least, that was the attempt. Their whole arm turned intangible instead.

Peter huffed, "I'll try to keep a lookout as you take the wheels then. Just like to say again, this is a horrible idea."

Danny grinned as he quietly worked to get the wheels off the rest of the bike and carefully left the bolts near the bike. It's the least he could. He has one wheel off when he pauses his work to get a better look at the engine.

"This sure is a nice looking bike." Danny says absentmindedly. "I'm really curious who it belongs to."

"I would say thank you but it looks like I'm being robbed." The gravel behind them makes noise.

Danny gasps—blue mist leaves his mouth—spinning to face the man behind them and some of the bolts fall out of his hand.

"i found it like that." Danny blurts out.

"Oh for the love–I can't even be mad, i would say the same thing. But i told you it would be a bad idea! Do you see him?? Look how huge he is!" peter ranted and hoped that Danny could feel him disappointment.

The man in front of them is huge, built like a tank and wearing a leather jacket. He has black hair with some of the front part being white. He definitely knows how to fight.

The man crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Why does this feel like deja vu?" He mutters. "Alright, wanna explain yourself, kid?"

Danny tries not to pout as he's called a kid, "...I just needed some money for some food." He says instead, hoping the man will take some pity.

The man stares at him, scrutinizing him and trying to come to some conclusion.

"What if he kills us?" Peter whispers.

"Welp, sorry pete but you would have erased yourself for nothing." Danny dryly replies as quiet as he can.

"Dude! Uncalled for."

"Alright, come on, follow me." The man suddenly says.

Danny jumps, his mouth dropping open "huh?"

"Food. I know a good place. The names' Jason, by the way." The man, Jason, simply says. He puts his hands in his jacket and starts heading in a direction.

"We're not actually following him, right? That's like, stranger danger one-oh-one and–nope we're just following him. That's great. That's cool. Lets just follow the guy we were stealing from."

Danny shrugged. "Free food."

Peter sighs and can only watch as Danny follows the guy. He would take control if he could, but if he forced a switch, that would only cause extreme dizziness, and it would be hard to explain their physical change, too. Peter and Danny still haven't figured out how to safely switch who is in control of the body. They just wake up and whoever is in control of the body is in control for the rest of the day, unless they're knocked out. Once, Danny was in control for three whole days.

Jason led to a fast food place called Bat Burger.

Once at the register, Jason tilted his head, "Order whatever you like and however much you like."

Danny and Peter are stunned hearing what Jason just said.

"However much I like?" Danny slowly repeated still trying to make sure he heard right.

"no way he's serious, right?"

"Yup, however much you like." Jason confirmed as he finished his order. "I'm using my old man's credit card anyway."

"...Alright, what do we want," Danny mutters and decides not to question Jason's odd decision. If they can order however much they want then they'll be able to take whatever they don't finish back to their little base, though he doubts they'll leave much.

Peter rattles off what his order, which Danny repeats and then he orders what he wants.

One thing Peter is grateful for, despite their circumstances, is that when he is stuck in his head, he can still taste whatever Danny is eating and vice versa.

The cashier stares in horror but then deeply sighs. They ring up their order, gives them their cups, and tell them to sit anywhere.

They grab their drinks and the two sit in the corner booth.

Jason places his hands on the table, "So, kid, what can i call ya?'

Danny jumps at the sudden question and stutters out, "Uh, our name is–I mean, my, my name is Danny."

The rest of the night goes by strangely but nicely. Jason asks one too many questions—about their non-existent home life which is nice—and that leads Danny to tell Jason to shove them, much to Peter's horror.

Danny does pretty much eat everything and as much as he wants to ask Jason about his strange ecto signature, he lets it go in favor of being left alone.

"That guy was weird. My spider sense didn't, you know, sense him." Peter admits, suspicion and weariness oozing from his voice.

Danny shrugs, "It's a big city. I doubt we'll run into him again."

\/\/\/\/

Peter luck strikes again.

If peter ever got the chance, he'll hang Danny up by his feet. He will find some way to neutralize his abilities and web him up.

"Hey, you're welcome to try, pete!" Danny says through his laughing.

In front of Peter is Jason, the man that fed them just a few weeks ago.

And is currently staring down at Peter with an intense stare.

Next to Jason is another man with tanned skin, black hair, and blue eyes. He's smiling widely, coming off as friendly.

"Do you two know each other?" The man tilted his head, trying to start a conversation.

"Uh, no, sorry, it's my first time seeing him...and you," Peter replies and looks down at the watches he's holding. He'd been told to fix them and the people they belonged too were loyal customers. He didn't think one of them would be Jason.

"Nah, i don't know 'em. He just looks familiar." Jason replies. He squints, scowling in thought. "You don't happen to have a twin do you? One with Black hair and blue eyes."

Peter wants to shrivel up and die.

Danny definitely isn't helping as he wheezes, laughing at Peter's misfortune.

Danny, what do I say?!

"Tell them yes and that we've been separated and you have been living with your uncle!"

By some miracle, Peter was able to sell his grief and ask Jason if he'd seen him. He's not sure how he did it since his lying pretty subpar most days. He was still baffled about lying to Aunt May for as long as he did.

"Oh, that's so sad," The man, Dick Grayson, stated with empathy in his eyes. "Why don't you file a missing person report? They could help..." He weakly says.

Jason sighs, placing a hand on his forehead. "Dick i swear to god..."

Peter stares baffled. Did this man not know Gotham police? How does he explain why going to the police is not a good idea, for one, the corruption, and two because Danny—by extension Peter as well—do not exist. So he cant file a missing person report.

"ACAB, bitch!"

"ACAB, bitch!" Peter blurts out the only thing in his mind and slaps a hand over his mouth. Danny's loud voice was the only thing on his mind. He couldn't think of anything else.

Danny was laughing hysterically about the situation Peter found himself in.

Dicks mouth dropped open, shocked by the sudden exclaim.

Jason begins to snicker which turns into a full blown belly aching laughter. He leaned on the counter and slapped Dick's shoulder.

"He–HAHAHH! Ohhh man. Kid I just met, you're incredible. heehe–" Jason erupted into another fit of laughter.

Peter stands in embarrassment and tired of this whole thing. He just wants the world to open up and swallow him. Saves him from the embarrassment.

"You're stuck with me Peter, whether you like it or not!" Danny exclaims through laughter.

At the very least, Peter isn't alone.

\/\/\/\/\/

This is all i had running through my head. I cannot promise any part 2 or anything

Some notes:

Jason's personal bike and red hood bike are different. And obviously hard to find an exact model since they change with different iterations and, ya know, trademark law and all. The bike i mentioned is one iteration that seemed the most obvious since someone was able to name it.

I think the earliest spiderman gave peter Parker a bike. I haven't seen anyone put an exact name on it but, funnily enough, its also a Honda

I hope I did the characters justice <3

[tanoraqui]

PeterMJ enemies to lovers OnlyFans au, is that anything. With secret identity shenanigans, of course. MJ is the #2 top seller on OnlyFans because of course she is, and she would be #1 if it weren’t for that sonofabitch Spiderman (freelance photography doesn’t make a lot of money, okay, and rent in NYC only ever gets worse). His work isn’t even compellingly sexy, it’s swinging-through-the-air butt shots that ride the infinite popularity wave of being a smart-mouthed twink in spandex! MJ is going to destroy him, and, incidentally, she thinks her boyfriend/sometimes photographer Peter could be more supportive of her in this.

[scholarlystarker]

A Starker inspired chat - thanks to @theonestarker for the GenZ input!

[pretty-bratty]

✨️Inspired by one time of me and Daddy @definitelynottony in the hotel✨️

It's the night after the fight in the airport, and Tony can't fall asleep. They're staying in Berlin overnight, and he kind of wishes he could drink all his thoughts away like he used to before. He doesn't do that anymore, and even if he did, there's the whole thing with Rhodey to figure out, and the government, and Cap - and the feeling that he lost the life he used to have before. And of course, there's also the kid.

The kid who knocked on his door some time ago, all blushy and fidgety, and complained that he can't fall asleep. Tony briefly wondered how he went by Happy unnoticed, but he also feels like he can hear Happy's snoring all the way in the halls, so yeah.

He pretends to be all cool about it, but this tight and heavy knot in his chest loosens once the kid steps into his room. It loosens more and more as Peter starts chatting about how cool the room is, asks if they can watch a movie, keeps talking about anything and everything but what happened in the airport a few hours ago. He hops on the spare bed - apparently Happy messed up the reservations and Tony got the room with the king-size bed and a little twin nearby, like he's a parent or something. He's too exhausted to deal with it. So now he's ignoring the movie in his king-size, while Peter's settled on the twin one.

The kid looks awfully tired and yawning too much for someone who suffers from insomnia. It's only after Peter's fast asleep on that spare bed, movie barely started and popcorn untouched, when Tony realizes. He didn't come here because he couldn't sleep. He fought the sleep, as well as shyness, and came here because he knew that Tony won't be sleeping. The realization washes over him in a warm wave, panging bittersweet in his chest. Tony stares up at the ceiling some more, and - fuck it. He's going to hell anyways.

"Kiddo."

"Nngh?" Peter's voice is nearly grumpy, so different from his usual adoration, from his anxiety to do something wrong and get kicked out. Tony feels a smile tugging on his lips. He loves it.

"Come here to cuddle. I can't sleep."

There's no 'Yes sir' and tripping over his feet - but no weirded out hesitation either.

"Mmkay." Peter just complies, sliding down from his bed and stumbling to the bigger one. It's like he's not even opening his eyes all the way? It's sheer luck that he doesn't trip.

The kid gets in bed and, before Tony can even open his mouth, climbs under the blanket and into his arms. Gets all cozy with his head on Tony's chest - heart misses a beat - snuggles close and immediately blacks out again. Tony gently cradles him in his arms. Holds him. His heart goes wild for a few moments, and then suddenly calms down, settling into a peaceful rhythm.

The thoughts of losing the life he used to have before get smudged, evaporate from this new feeling. The feeling of finding something that he's never had before. Something that's worth protecting more than anything else. He closes his eyes and breathes freely, for the first time in...he doesn't even remember how long. In a few seconds, there are two people fast asleep in the room.

[pool-spidey]

The thing about the Ice Box was it could make your skin crawl just thinking about it, let alone being its inmate.

Still, Wade couldn’t really say he regretted ending up in there; given the chance, he would’ve blown off that fucking pedophile’s head a hundred more times. But needless to say, his first mission under the X-Men’s wing didn’t go as smoothly as planned.

What Wade remembered best from being arrested wasn’t the sensation of this fucking collar being clasped over his neck, and his body revolting against the cancer joining the party once again. What carved into his memory even more were Peter’s screams, telling the motherfuckers to get fucking off him, take that shit off, you’re gonna fucking kill him; backing it up with some punches thrown with what could only be taken for a mutant strength.

Needless to say, that got him arrested, too. Which was exactly what he wanted.

And what made up all the regret Wade had about what he’d done.

Wade remembered vaguely joking that it was not exactly how he imagined getting away with Peter for that vacation at last, but it’d have to do. Being taken to the mountains, getting matching outfits and all that.

And he remembered that Peter didn’t laugh.

As the door of their cell locked behind them, Wade had to sit down, but Peter started to pace up and down the small space. Wade’s eyes followed him like he was watching the tennis match.

Peter unzipped his yellow prison garb and let it loose around his legs, revealing a white undershirt, same as Wade had underneath.

It made the collar on his neck even more visible and Wade felt rage crippling through his cancer-ridden body.

“You, fucking stop it.”

Peter froze in place and looked at him.

“What?”

“Wolverine was supposed to be the only one looking this good in a wife beater. So you better fucking stop it.”

Peter snorted, a shadow of a smile on his lips. It sounded a little bit relieved and a little bit more like he wanted to cry.

“You forgot Freddy Mercury,” he said, walking up to sit beside Wade. He left no space between them and Wade took the chance to rest his head on Peter’s shoulder.

He quickly sat back up though, feeling that Peter was shaking. He pressed a hand to his face, covering his eyes and leaving no doubt now that he was crying.

“Hey… what’s up?”

“I’m so sorry, Wade.”

“What? Why?”

He took a hand off his face and looked at Wade, whose heart immediately smashed to smithereens at the sight of sadness overflowing his eyes along with the tears.

“I talked you into this X-Men shit… If you weren’t there…”

“Hey, boo, stop it. Really, life would always find a way to fuck us stiff bareback, don’t you know it? Stop crying, this is not your fault.”

“That’s not why I’m crying.”

“Then why?”

“Cause you’re…” he started in a tone like he couldn’t believe Wade had to even ask, but then cut it abruptly and said something else than he’d intended: “Cause you’re in pain.”

Cause you’re dying.

Vomiting felt like all of Wade’s insides were going out – or rather wanted to, but couldn’t.

All he had inside of him was pain, and it felt like Wade was the one his body was fighting, not the cancer.

He wiped his mouth with shaking hand and used the rest of his energy to get away from the toilet and crawl a meter away of it, towards his pallet. Peter was sitting by it on the floor, waiting for him to come back and lay his head on his lap. Which Wade did, curling on the floor and burrowing half of his face in Peter’s thigh. Peter gave him his hand and Wade took it with both of his, pressed it to his chest like he was a child squeezing a teddy bear. The other hand Peter laid on his head, petting it slowly, like he was a mother of said terrified child.

“Here we fucking go again, I guess,” Wade groaned.

“Only the first time you fled on me, remember?”

“Yeah. And I’m sorry.”

“And you’d do it again.” There was no accusation in his voice; there was only the warmth in his hands.

“Probably, yeah.”

It wouldn’t be like them if they didn’t get into even bigger shit than they were already in.

It was the first time they were in prison cafeteria, poking around for something edible among the crap they had on their platters. They were sitting alone by their table, face to face, and Wade was trying to imagine that Peter was the only one out there, the only person in a thousand miles radius; lines of his bare biceps like a balm for Wade’s aching insides.

It took him a good minute to notice the group approaching them.

“I’ve seen you earlier, pretty face.”

Black Tom didn’t look as much of a threat. And maybe it wouldn’t have ended so badly if he didn’t touch Peter.

“Thanks, I was thinking about acting, actually.” In his current state, Wade wasn’t that much of a threat either. But least he could do was try to keep their attention on himself.

But they didn’t take it, told him to shut the fuck up – they’re talking to the twink right here.

“Your name here’s gonna be Gentle Mouth…” Black Tom said, putting his dirty paw on Peter’s face.

There were plenty of times before when they were in danger, when they were dealing with far worse than fucking Black Tom and his boys.

But all these previous times were different.

Now Wade couldn’t fight them and he knew it.

So maybe that was why his eloquence left him high and dry, and the only way to let out his rage as he saw Peter stiffening under Black Tom’s touch, was noncreative and point-blank:

“Keep the fuck away from him.”

“Why, he’s your bitch?”

“I am his.”

“Oh shee-it!” Black Tom smiled, turning to Wade. “I see you’ve got something in your teeth. His pubes?”

“Jealous much?”

You moron, Peter would tell him later, all resigned. Couldn’t you keep your mouth shut for once? I was trying not to provoke them.

In exchange for what he said, Wade got some laughs, and a nudge in the gut from Black Tom; which combined forces with the cancer and was enough to leave him breathless.

And as for Black Tom, what he got in exchange was Peter’s platter right to his fucking face – a beautiful hit that set both Black Tom and Peter’s untouched excuse for a meal flying around in all directions.

After that it went painfully and fast, and soon enough they were all escorted roughly to their cells, Peter helping Wade walk to theirs, almost carrying him. 

As soon as they were in, Wade would’ve collapsed right then and there if Petter didn’t make the extra effort to lay him on the pallet; to put the pillow under his dizzy head.

Then he lay down behind him, hugging him gently; somehow holding Wade in place – this bundle of different pains all stitched together.

Peter was also beat up, even worse than Wade given the fact that this whole fight was practically him just trying to keep others away from Wade who was only lying there on the floor and getting kicked. But he took it better; even the last part when he just clung to Wade on the floor, shielding him with his body; taking the kicks to his own ribs.  

Now Wade was glad to be the little spoon – he didn’t have to see Peter’s bloodied face.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know you didn’t want to provoke them. But I just…”

He didn’t know what to say, so he stopped, the pain and the blame getting the best of him. And for a moment Peter wasn’t saying anything, but then Wade felt warmth on the back of his head, so gentle, and again. And again.  

Peter kissing him there.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, and held him closer. “I’m just sorry you’re hurt.”

Not long after – and not a moment too soon – Cable was there, fucking the shit up and chasing a fourteen-year-old.

It came pretty much without saying that Peter and Wade were gonna help the kid. That is: it came without saying for Peter, so also for Wade.

Some plain old chaos and ass beatings were involved, during which Cable’s fuckass weapon fired right into Wade’s collar, breaking it just in fucking time for Wade to survive his not so pleasant fall on a table which practically broke him in half.

He had a moment of a black out, and the last thing he heard before it was Peter tearing his throat on Wade’s name as he watched him fall.

Wade was glad it didn’t end up the last thing he's heard in life; and also that it wasn’t the last image of him burned into Peter’s mind.

Not his best look, for sure. Also, breaking a spine? Wade wouldn’t recommend.

But what came after was, not to exaggerate, motherfucking awesome.

Welcome back, superpowers.

After that it went pretty fast.

X-Men showed up in their hovercraft to check up on the fuckery that was going on there. They were too late to meet Cable, but at least they gave Peter, Wade and that kid Russel a lift.

And Yukio, that sweet girl, took the collars off of Peter and Russel as well.

During the flight, Peter gave them a piece of his mind about not doing anything to prevent the mutants from being held in such conditions, and not coming earlier to prevent Wade from dying there of cancer. Wade sat there with his head on Peter’s shoulder, listening with a smile to him telling Colossus where he could shove his rules.

Russell was taken to the X-Men mansion and soon enough Cable showed up for him; but there he met Wade and Peter.

There was some talking and some more beating the shit out of each other, and also some more shooting, but eventually they came to terms.

They made raid on the facility where Russell had been held and abused. They killed some pedos together, and in the end it was Dopinder, sweet sweet bloodthirsty Dopinder, who ended that fucking turd of a director of that dump; not Russell.

Orphans were saved and friends were made, and Russell stayed at X-Men mansion, while Cable came back to his loved ones.

Peter and Wade also came home – to spoon, finally, in their own bed.

Being even more of the ­f-word than before.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Delirious Decisions

AN: Thank you for tagging me @mercurial-chuckles in your Delirious Decisions. I’ve kept all the same prompts, but gone with some of my own pair ups. I’ve written a little something for each prompt, some as short as 200 words and some as long as around 900.

Some of my entries are little drabbles for some of my established pairings, but some are new and in fact three are set in Avengers Tower with a new reader insert who is an Avenger of currently unknown skills, nicknamed Pipsqueak by the team because of how short she is.

Ratings vary from G to E, but all are labelled. For some stories I haven’t specified the pairing at the start because I want the end reveal to be a surprise (but none of these stories include smut).

I hope you enjoy.

These are all un-beta’d and dividers are by @firefly-graphics and me.

Masterlist

Cuddle in a storm with 🛏️

Reader x Bucky Barnes. Rated T. Fluff and suggestive language. 230 words.

A gust of wind sent the raindrops hammering against the window, loud enough to startle you from your light doze. The arm around your shoulder tightened and a loving voice crooned in your ear. “It’s just the rain, Doll. Relax.”

You turned your head back into Bucky’s chest, nuzzling against his red henley. “‘M totally relaxed. How long’s i’ ‘posed to last?”

“Well into tomorrow. And we’re not supposed to go outside in it, unless we absolutely have to.”

Somehow you pressed your body even closer to the human furnace that was your boyfriend. “‘M not going anywhere.”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re not going to leave the couch? What are you going to do when I go to bed then?”

You let out a displeased grunt. “‘Kay. The couch or the bed.”

“Good,” he declared, decisively. “Because I would’ve been lonely all on my own.” Without warning he stood up, scooping you up as he did and you squeaked in shock.

“Bucky! Where are we going?”

“I want to go to bed,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But ‘m not tired!”

“I never mentioned sleep, Doll. There’s more things to do in bed than that, as you well know.” He grinned at you and you felt the heat rising up your neck. “Kiss me, sweetheart,” he continued. “Keep me safe from the storm.”

Accidentally send a spicy text to 😳

Reader (Pipsqueak) x ? Rated T. Suggestive themes. 400 words

“Clint!” You really wanted to screech, but part of you recognised you still needed to maintain a modicum of discretion. You came to a skidding halt next to the blonde archer and he took in your distressed state.

“What is it, Pip?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not that short,” you hissed. “And this is an emergency.”

With a raised brow, he hopped up onto the counter. “An emergency, huh? What sort of thing counts as an emergency in your world?”

You resisted the urge to bite out something scathing - that wouldn’t help, given the circumstances. “You know I’ve been seeing this guy, yeah?”

“Nathan, right?”

“Right. So things have been going… alright.” You couldn’t help but wring your hands.

“Only alright? I’m sure you deserve more than ‘alright’, kiddo.”

“Yeah, so that’s what I was trying to do - make it more than ‘alright’, by sending him a message to… you know… let him know…”

“Oh!” Clint’s eyebrows almost shot into his hairline. “You ‘sexted’ him, didn’t you. Didn’t know you had it in you, Pip. But what’s the emergency? Did your ‘freak’ scare him off? If so, he’s not worth it.”

“No… it’s that… Oh God, it’s so embarrassing.” You buried your head in your hands, trying to hide, before blurting out “Isentittothewrongperson.”

His eyes widened even further. You were worried they were going to jump out of their sockets. “Which wrong per- Oh. Oh!” In two seconds flat he’d gone from sharing your worry to falling sideways on the counter in hysterical laughter.

“Don’t laugh!” You smacked him on the thigh with the back of your hand. “What do I do?”

Suddenly a sultry voice sounded from the corridor outside the common room. 

“Kotenok! Where are you? I have some of those things you wanted to try.”

You squeaked and turned on your heel, shooting out the side door, Clint’s laughter still ringing in your ears.

A few moments later, Nat walked into the kitchen and settled on one of the bar stools next to Clint’s mostly horizontal body. “Are you gonna stop laughing?” she asked him. Clint drew in some ragged breaths and sat up, the evidence of his tears of amusement marking his face. “When you stop teasing her. She thinks you really thought the message was for you.”

Nat’s expression morphed into faux shock. “You mean it wasn’t?”

And they both burst out laughing again.

Get stuck in a "there’s only one-bed" scenario with Kiss and some 💋 🥵

Ari and his Angel. Rated M. Suggestive language and fluff. 400+ words

You looked at the bed, a little shocked and, if you were being honest, a little embarrassed. Yes you were a grown up, and did grown up things with other grown ups, but it felt weird that your parents were also aware — and accepting — of that. 

You turned to your mom who was standing in the doorway. “So, umm, are both Ari and I in here?” You side-eyed the queen-sized bed, which had been plenty big enough for you as a teen, but looked very small now when you considered both you and Ari fitting in it together.

“Well,” your mom replied with a hint of mischief in her eye, “unless you can magically create another spare room, or you’re willing to sleep on the sofa — because let’s face it, your boyfriend won’t fit on it — you are, indeed both in here. Just remember, there are other people in this house, and some things ought to stay private.”

Behind your mom you heard Ari cover a snort with a cough, but you couldn’t glare at him without her seeing, so you just smiled and considered the torture you’d be in for tonight.

—----

Ari’s lips kissed a trail across your shoulders, his nose nudging the thin straps of your pajama top to the side. His large body was curled up behind you, a tell-tale hardness poking at your ass.

“Ari, quit it.” You slapped at the arm wrapped around your waist, but both of you knew it was half-hearted. Nonetheless, he stopped his sensual exploration.

“You really mean that, Angel? You want me to lie here, next to you, and not touch you. You want me to torture us both?” God, you could almost hear the pout in his voice. 

“But you heard my mom. She was basically telling us that the walls are like paper. My parents knowing I have sex is bad enough, but them hearing it? I think I’d just die.”

The hand around your waist started to move, drawing light circles on your skin where your top had ridden up. “We’d just have to make sure you’re quiet, then.” He pressed his lips to your shoulder again, just once, leaving the ball in your court. He knew you needed him as much as he craved you. Several heartbeats of silence and then you were turning in his embrace and hooking your leg over his hip.

“I hope you’re ready to be covered in bruises from where I have to bite down to keep myself from crying out.”

He dipped his head and rubbed your noses together. “Angel, I’ll wear them with pride.”

Admire from behind (if you know what I mean) 🍑

There’s only one answer here. A little snippet of the Captain and his Brat. (I love you, then I hate you) Rated M. Mentions of corporal punishment in a D/S relationship. <300 words

Meetings were never your favourite thing - were they anybody’s? - but one thing that made it all worthwhile. Walking out after Steve. It would obviously have been better if he’d been wearing his tac suit, but his tan slacks did sterling service too, highlighting one of his best physical attributes. As he strolled down the corridor ahead of you, going over some of the points of the meeting with Rhodey, you decided to take in the view. God, your fingers itched to grab those two muscular globes and squeeze them. Give them a smack, or even sink your teeth into them. And then, if you did, what would Steve do to chastise you and put you in your place. You felt a rush of arousal pool in your core and you stumbled a bit as you walked. In front of you, you realised the exact moment Steve caught wind of your state, because there was a hitch in his own step and, without breaking his conversation, he glanced back over his shoulder at you and gave you a knowing look. You shivered at the heat contained within it.  

Steve and Rhodey came to a stop outside of the latter’s office, which gave you a chance to slip by them, but as you did, you couldn’t resist it. Careful to make sure no-one else saw, you gave Steve’s right buttock as strong a squeeze as your hand could manage. He let out a little cough as his only reaction, and you smiled to yourself as you continued past, wondering how your Captain would respond, in the name of keeping you in line…

Push down the stairs (Oh, boi😏) 🪜

Reader x Ransom (Yesterday’s Dream, Tomorrow’s Nightmare, Never-ending nightmare) Rated M. Prior kidnap, prior rape, basement wife, non-con collaring, violence. <500 words

All you had to do was wait for your moment. From the moment you’d been brought here, you knew that if you bided your time, then a way of escape would eventually present itself. You’d given up fighting days — weeks — ago. Ransom was going to do what he wanted, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking you over and over. Making him think that you were weak and resigned to your fate would work in your favour at some point. You had to hold on to that belief. The collar around your neck chaffed, but if your luck held, then it wouldn’t be long until you could discard the hated piece of leather. 

He had been fooled by your act once before, until he’d brought the other man — Ari — who’d seen right through your facade, but after that night you hoped that both men thought you were broken down. Your belief was bolstered by the fact that Ransom had started to let you out of the basement and into the house proper. It was always at night, when he’d sent his housekeeper and chef home, but it still allowed you to get a better idea of your surroundings. This evening he’d decided that he wanted to watch football on the frankly vulgar sized television while you cock-warmed him, first with your mouth and then with your cunt, until he tipped you forward onto the carpet and finished inside you. Now it was time for him to return you to your prison for the night.

You followed him, eyes downcast, as he led you back to the door. When he turned his back to you, so he could unlock the door, your breath caught in your throat, anticipating the right moment. You’d only have one chance. As the basement door was pulled wide, but before Ransom could step away from it, your arms shot out, all of your body weight put behind them. You shoved him. Right between the shoulder blades. The moments stretched into an eternity as you watched him wobble and hoped that it would work. His cry of surprise rent the air and his arms pinwheeled. One hand caught on the door frame, and without a moment’s hesitation you pushed him again, screaming your fury at him.

Ransom’s foot slipped and his balance faltered and in the next instant he was tumbling down, landing at the bottom with a sickening thud which morphed into an unnatural silence. You turned on your heel, running through the house towards the front door. There, on a side table, was a bowl containing car keys. You scooped them up and ran out of the front door. You clicked the remote, trying to identify which car they belonged to — there were several lined up under a carport. Lights flashed in the darkness and you ran towards them and your freedom.

Ruin in the best way possible 😈

I’d say ‘poor Joaquín’, but I don’t think he’s finding it too bad… (Ojos Asi) Rated E. Sexual Content, inc edging and mild bondage. 150+ words

“Dios! Mi sol!” You straddled Joaquín, your hips undulating as you rode him. Beneath you, your boyfriend’s arms strained against the leather cuffs binding his wrists to the headboard. How had you gotten so lucky to have a man like this? A man who looked so beautiful as you took him apart. After securing him, you’d teased his body with your fingers, lips and tongue, taking him into your mouth as he’d arched under your touch. You’d chuckled to yourself when he’d sworn out a litany of Spanish the second time you’d brought him to the edge, but refused to let him tumble over. However, you had promised him that the third time would be the charm. You held onto his thigh and rested your other hand on his chest as you moved, grinning down and taking in the view. Sweat sheened on his skin, his hair was delightfully mussed and his eyes almost black with desire. And you couldn’t wait to do it all again.

Invade the dreams of 💤

Reader x ?. Rated M. Pining, psychic powers, accidental mind invasion, implied smut. <900 words

It had started out as an accident. Your psychic powers were fairly new to you, having only started to manifest, sporadically, in your late teens. However, it hadn’t been more than a minor convenience until about six months back, when you found yourself accidently getting caught up inside other people’s heads. It had been frightening, for both you and the person concerned and you’d had a few close scrapes when some folk had followed up that fear with violence. Luckily for you it had only taken a few calls to SHIELD for someone to take you seriously, and you’d ended up here, in Avengers Tower, where you would have the space and help you needed to get your powers under control.

You’d mainly been working with Wanda and Loki — they were the ones best placed to help you — but you also spent time with all of the others. They were a nice bunch of people, all of them strong but damaged in their own ways. It made you feel as though you belonged. However, with one person in particular, that regard morphed into something else — a big fat crush.

Whenever you saw him, your breath caught in your throat and your heart started to beat that little bit faster. He was so charming. So strong and self-assured. Whenever you were alone you couldn’t help but think about him, wondering how it would feel to be held in his strong arms. To be kissed by his plush lips that always seemed to wear a smile. It therefore wasn’t a surprise to you when you started to dream about him.

Night after night, your subconscious made him the focus of your fantasies. Not all of them were x-rated, but a lot were, and you’d wake in sweat, an ache between your legs. How were you supposed to look at him in the light of day, with all these sordid thoughts spinning in your mind? And when you realised he seemed to be avoiding you, you couldn’t work out if that made it all better or worse. Yes, you didn’t have to see the sparkling blue of his eyes or the way sweat sheened on his muscles when he walked past after spending time in the gym, but a lack of contact during the day seemed to make your mind yearn for him more in the night. Your mentors noticed that you were withdrawn and made gentle enquiries, but how could you tell them the thoughts you were having?

A pounding on your door jerked you out of sleep — out of the latest erotic dream. You wiped your hand down your face before staggering to your feet. It couldn’t have been some massive emergency — FRIDAY would have notified you if it was — but you wondered who could want you at three twenty-seven am on a Wednesday morning.

You pulled the door open with more force than you meant, only to stop as you saw him there. Bare chested, breathing heavily, blonde hair all sleep-mussed and an unignorable tent in his pants. 

Thor.

As soon as he saw you he appeared to change his mind, making to step away without saying a word, until you grasped his wrist in your own small hand.

“Wait! What are you doing here? Why did you wake me?” How were you being so brave? You wanted to hide, to quake in your slippers, but the ache within you seemed to be pulling you forward. Onward.

Immediately he crowded through your door, kicking it shut behind him and cupping your face in his hands.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked, his voice almost cracking from suppressed emotion.

“Doing what?” you replied, confused.

“Invading my dreams, little one. It’s maddening. I think that I have you in my arms and then I wake to find it was just a fantasy. I yearn for you, night after night. I am distracted by it. I need it to either be real or for it to stop. Do you understand? I can’t—”

Your jaw dropped open and your head spun. Had you been meeting Thor night after night in the dream-plane. Differing emotions clashed within you. Guilt at having invaded his mind in such a way, but also hope, because from what he was saying he wanted the reality as much as you did.

“I—” you started suddenly unsure how to answer. How did you tell a literal god that you burned for them? That you wanted them more than could be reasoned?

Thor let out a dejected sigh, apparently taking your silence for rejection. For the second time he made to move away and you were spurred out of your stupor and into action. You threw yourself forward, lurching up onto your toes to throw your arms around his neck and press your lips against his. You couldn’t tell him what you were thinking, but you could show him.

For a heartbeat he didn’t respond, but then his arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed you up against the wall of your room. His lips moved over yours, before his tongue demanded entry. You moaned into his mouth and bucked your hips against him, your dream induced ardour flaring back into life and enabling you to whisper out your need.

“Make it real. Please.” 

Fake a relationship with for drama 🎭

Reader x ? Rated T. Shenanigans. <500 words

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping with him,” Wanda hissed in your ear as you leant against the bar and watched the other Avengers circulating around the ballroom, shaking down the great and good for more donations to Peppers current charity. 

“What’s not to believe,” you responded with a coy smile, not removing your gaze from the object of Wanda’s surprised outrage. “He’s handsome, he’s amusing, he’s got the skills.”

“He’s a murderer!” Wanda’s voice was less of a hiss now, and a few of the people near-by turned at her outburst. It was hard to hold back a grin. 

“Wanda, half the people in this room could be given that same label, depending on your outlook. And it’s not like he was in his right frame of mind.” Sensibly, your friend didn’t respond to that. The pair of you stood in silence a little longer until you downed the last of your drink and firmly placed the glass down. Straightening your spine you strode across the room, coming up behind him and placing your hand on his shoulder, and revelling in the feel of his velvet jacket against your palm.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Three heads turned in your direction, eyes of blue, brown and green. “Would you mind if I stole this one away? I have a hankering for a turn around the dance-floor, and this one is rather nimble on his feet.” Without waiting for a response, you looped your arm through his and drew him away. As you made your way to the space in front of the band, you could feel the incredulous stares of Steve and Tony behind you.

“Darling,” your companion whispered in your ear, “I believe we’re making a scene.” 

It was true, from the corner of your eye you could see people beginning to notice the pair of you. Your left hand went to his shoulder as his right rested on your waist, and your other hands joined together.

“They’re probably wondering if you’re going to corrupt me, or whether I’m going to reform you.” Suredly, Loki began to lead you around in time to the music.

He chuckled, low and silky. “I think it’s entirely possible for both to occur. However, what I can’t understand is how all of the others think you’re this meek and mild goody two-shoes. You’re living for this drama as much as I.” He dipped you, and it was difficult to suppress a full-blown belly laugh. “Minx,” he grinned at you. “How long until we can unsubtly leave and have people think we’re up to no good.”

“After this song, I would think.” You winked at him and he rolled his eyes with all the drama this little show deserved. 

“Careful, little one. I might start to think you really mean all of this.”

You pondered his words and wondered to yourself if that would actually be a bad thing at all….

Team up with for a heist 🕶️

Reader (Pipsqueak) & Clint. Rated G. Hi-jinx, Tower fic, Avengers as family, fluff, Shenanigans. <700 words.

You crept along the hallway behind your partner in crime, excited, but also a little scared. Not that there would be any real, horrific consequences if you got caught. This was all in the name of friendly mischief after all. Still…

You tapped Clint on the shoulder and he turned to face you, questioningly.

“Do you think we’ll get caught?” you sighed. He had his hearing aids in, but signing was far more stealthy when you were trying to sneak up on enhanced folk.

“Not if you stick to the plan. I’ll run interference and you grab the treasure.”

You nodded in agreement, and continued forward. When you reached the open door to the common room, you stopped again, waiting outside as Clint straightened up and strolled in, as if he had no cares in the world.

“Hey fellas!”

Okay, you thought from outside, no Nat or Wanda in there. Good to know.

“Hey, Barton.” The deep voice of Bucky answered, and you knew that if he was there, then…

“How’s it going, Clint?” … Steve was there as well. The two were joined at the hip and it was sickeningly sweet. However, outside of Nat, they were going to be the hardest to sneak past. You just had to trust that Clint could distract them.

“Well,” you heard him say, “it’s a funny story…” That was your queue. The plan was that he would start some long, rambling story that had no real conclusion to it while you snuck in the room and carefully grabbed your prize. Looking around the door frame you could see your heist partner and the muscled backs of two super-soldiers, whose body language still gave off an air of interest. With all the stealth you could muster, you tiptoed into the common room, thankful for the carpet on the floor that muffled your steps. However, you did need to get into the kitchenette, which had a tiled floor. 

Keeping low, you scurried across the open space and ducked down behind the counter. Clint was still droning on about his friend’s cousin’s son who’d found a one-eyed dog cowering behind a dumpster, and when he did an impression of said dog, letting out a mournful howl, you carefully opened the cupboard in front of you. There was your prize! You wanted to clap your hands in glee, but that would have to wait until later. 

It was a moment’s work to pull the cloth bag from your back pocket and you waited for Clint’s next sound-effect to grab what you came here to find. You heard Bucky sigh, loudly and unsubtly, and you waited with baited breath, hoping that Clint could hook him back into the story. The sudden sound of Clint trying to be a bomb seemed to work so you decided to do a grab and dash. Once you rounded the corner, back into the corridor, you sped up into a sprint, before jumping up to grab the vent-duct access door and scrabbling up into your and Clint’s not-so-hidden highway.

You crawled along until you got to the junction that was your current ‘nest’. A soft thunk and a snuffling noise let you know that your charge had woken up.

“Hey, boy.” You reached out and scratched the dirty yellow dog on the top of his head. A few minutes later, Clint appeared by your side, grinning.

“The secret to any lie is to mix in a bit of the truth,” he announced as he reached into the bag beside you and opened the bag of artisan jerky. He pulled out three pieces, passing one to you, shoving another into his mouth and holding the other one out in front of the dog.

“Here you go, Lucky. Some of Bucky and Steve’s personal stash. Full of protein and low on additives.” The animal quickly scoffed it down and started to look around for another piece. The whole bag was empty within a matter of minutes, which was about the same time the three of you heard wails of anguish echoing up into the metal vents.

“Clint! Pip! Where’s my goddamn jerky?”

Friend-zone for life 🛑

Reader (Pipsqueak) & Peter Parker. Rate T. Angst, Unrequited love, friendship, feels. Approx 650 words

“Oh, Peter.” You sighed and gave him a sad smile. The young avenger stood in front of you, his dark hair tamed within an inch of his life with gel, wearing a dress shirt and slacks and holding a slowly wilting bunch of flowers in his hand. It was obvious that he’d heard you griping about your lacklustre love-life and how frustrating it was to be single in the lead up to Valentine’s day, because here he was, standing at your door with the most hopeful look on his face and you were about to break his heart.

“Please hear me out,” he garbled. “I know I’m a bit younger than you, but they say that age is just a number, and it’s not that big of an age gap, and like I’m in my prime and so are you, you know, for umm…” he trailed off as he turned bright pink.

You held back a second sigh — it wouldn’t help — and stepped back from your door to allow him to enter. It wouldn’t do to have this conversation out in the corridor. “Come in. Sit down.”

Peter scurried over to your couch and sat down on the edge of it, his hands holding the bouquet in a death grip. You took a careful seat on the single armchair opposite. “Look, Peter. I’m not going to say I’m not flattered — you’re a good looking young man and you have a lot to commend you — but I’m not what you’re looking for and you’re not what I’m looking for.”

“Oh.” His head dropped and you felt like the scum of the earth. He reminded you of a kicked puppy. “I just thought…”

“I know you did. And let me tell you, when I was your age there is no way I would have approached someone I had a crush on, especially if they were older than me.”

“You’re only nine years older,” he started to argue, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

“Yes, and when you’re my age, nine years older doesn’t mean that much. However, when you’re your age, nine years is a lot. But it’s not even that. I don’t want you thinking you can wait a few years and try again. I don’t want to upset you — I never would, you mean too much to me — but I’ve seen you grow up. I’ve known you since you were fifteen. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re my friend — my honorary little brother. I’m never going to be able to love you the way you want and the way you deserve.”

Peter seemed to slump even further, making him look even smaller and even younger. And then you heard the sniff.

“This was stupid. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” He suddenly stood up and pressed the heel of his palm to his eye. You turned your head away, trying to give him a semblance of privacy to get himself under control. 

“I’m sorry, too. I hope we can still be friends.”

“Yeah. Friends.” There was a petulant note in his voice, but you couldn’t be mad at him. His emotions were currently in charge. “You can keep the flowers. Or bin them. Whatever.” He dropped them on your coffee table and stalked over to the door, leaving your apartment and letting it bang shut behind him.

Now you let out that sigh, cradling your head in your hands as the emotional anguish washed over you. You peered at the flowers, a few of them now hanging limply on snapped stems.

“FRIDAY,” you called out. “Can you ask Tony to go and find Peter? I think he could do with a friend right now.”

“Sure,” the AI responded. “And would you like me to ask Mr Barton to come to you?”

“Yeah. That would be nice.”

Adopt a pet with 🐾

For this I’ve picked M’Baku and his Sabi-Star ([River Deep] Mountain High). Rated G. Fluff. Approx 350 words.

You pressed yourself to M’Baku’s side, both awed and wary at what was in front of you.

“When I said I wanted a pet to keep me company, I was thinking about something a little more ‘lap’ friendly. Or at least manoeuvrable.”

Your lover laughed beside you, the sound rumbling in his chest as much as it rumbled through the air. “Yes, but here in Wakanda, we don’t do anything by halves. And these animals are well trained and extremely loyal. Better than any dog.”

You looked at him pointedly, still not convinced.

“Ah, Sabi. Come,” he cajoled.  “We must get closer and let them know you. Maybe pet one of the babies?”

You transferred your gaze from him to one of the babies in question. You did have to admit that they were pretty cute, especially when they ran and their ears flapped around. Giving a small nod of assent, you carefully paced forward, concentrating on these animals that were almost entirely unknown to you - outside of textbooks and the odd zoo visit at least.

M’Baku held out his hand in front of him, and you copied his action, moving cautiously, and the baby Rhinoceros huffed at the pair of you, seemingly disappointed that neither of you held some kind of treat. It moved closer, and you held your breath as it snuffled at your robes, still hoping that you hadn’t arrived empty handed. 

Slowly, you reached out your hand and scratched the youngster behind one of its leathery ears and a giggle escaped you. Of all the things you’d experienced here in Wakanda, this was the most surreal. Suddenly, one of the adult rhino’s let out a bellow and the calf’s ears pricked up before it turned on its heels and trotted back over to the rest of the herd.

Behind you, W’Kabi sniggered. “That one is curious, unomdla. He will make a great War Rhino when he is grown. He is not frightened of one thing.”

“Yes,” M’Baku agreed. “Akọni.”

You watched the rhino calf frolic in the grass with the other youngsters, and felt yourself smile as your heart melted.

“Akọni.”

Take on a late-night drive with 🚗

Reader x Lee Bodecker. Rated E. Blowjob, unsafe driving, future sexy time discussed. Approx 250 words.

“Fuck, darlin’! That mouth on you.” The car lurched to the side, before coming back under control.

You pulled off Lee’s cock with a pop and smiled up at him. “Eye’s on the road, Sheriff. You don’t wanna get pulled over for dangerous driving.” You continued to jack him in your spit slicked hand. “You just get us to the look-out safely, and if you manage not to come, then maybe I’ll let you add a little cream to my peach pie.” You gave him a theatrical wink and then resumed your task, licking and slurping all over his shaft before widening your lips over his fat tip. 

You hadn’t planned on giving Lee road-head on the way out to ‘your spot’, but you’d been feeling some kinda way all day, and just couldn’t wait a moment longer to get your hands on him. You loved the way his soft flesh filled your hands. How the weight of him on top of you, spent and sated, made you feel safe and relaxed. And you knew, that even if he did blow in your mouth he wouldn’t leave you unsatisfied — he was good with his mouth and hands and he could keep you warm with those until he recovered. Now that you thought about it, that was feeling like a better idea. You hummed and felt him twitch, then slid your hand down to massage his balls.

It turns out that going for a late-night drive could be fun…

Let them fight your battles (while you swoon) 🛡️

This is definitely Nick Fowler and his spoiled brat (Ice Sculpture, Satin and Lace for my lover). Rated M. Violence, Suggestive language. Approx 450 words.

“Come on, darling. You look like you wanna have some fun.”

You reared back and wrinkled your nose as the guy who’d been pestering you all evening, and been getting subsequently more and more drunk, lurched back into your personal space.

“I do, which is why I came here tonight. With my friends. And why I kept telling you ‘no’. Now take the hint and go away.” This man had been the only blot on your night out with friends, and now he had followed the group of you out of the club. Of course he still didn’t engage the last few brain cells he had left, and his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“Frigid bitch.”

Instead of being outraged, you rolled your eyes. Now, you could deal with this yourself but it would be far more interesting to watch—

A third hand appeared, gripping your assailant the way he was gripping you, except that this third hand squeezed a lot harder. The man let go of you with a cry and was wrenched away from you with a large amount of force. He staggered, his balance severely impaired, but he wasn’t allowed to fall. Because Nick wasn’t done with him yet.

The drunkard didn’t really know what was going on when the punch landed on the side of his face. His head snapped to the side, but in contrast Nick looked totally unruffled, albeit very angry. God he was magnificent. You pulled your lower lip between your teeth in anticipation, barely noticing the discomfort of your friends at the violence unfolding. Or maybe you just didn’t care.

A second punch followed the first and this time Nick let the man fall, but only so he could follow it up with a violent kick to the ribs, and a stamp to his outstretched hand. He hadn’t even said a word.

Satisfied that the drunken scum wasn’t getting up anytime soon, Nick turned and walked toward you, carelessly wiping away the blood from his knuckles with the handkerchief from his pocket. When he reached you, he cradled your cheek in his palm and you relaxed into it.

“Are you alright, dragostea mea?” His voice was full of concern.

“I’m fine, Nicky. Just need you to take me home.”

“Yes, you need to rest after such a shock.”

You looked up at him, a mix of incredulity and condescension. “No, Nicky, I need you to bend me over and rail me until I cry.”

“Well, who would I be if I denied a lady her wish?”

With a chuckle, you linked your arm through his and let him lead you over to where his car was parked, totally oblivious to the expressions of shock behind you.

Flirt shamelessly with 🌶️

Reader x Tony. Rated M. Sexual Banter, Innuendo, HR nightmare conversations. 550 words.

“You wanted to see me?” You walked into Tony’s office and closed the door behind you. Not because you wanted privacy, per se, but more to stop anyone else overhearing your banter and reporting the pair of you to HR.

Your boss, and friend, looked up from his desk with a big grin on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I always want to see you, Bun-bun.”

You grinned back as you walked closer and perched yourself up on the antique mahogany. “I bet you say that to all the girls, Tone.”

Tony clasped his hand theatrically to his chest. “You wound me, Bunny. As if I would restrict my attention to just your sex. Think of all the disappointed fellas.”

A chuckle bubbled up your throat, but you only indulged it for a moment. You were here for work after all. “So what can I do you for, my Liege?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere… but yes, actual adulting.” Tony rolled his eyes and you resisted the urge to smirk — he was so dramatic. “We — and by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’ — need to chase up Cyber-research on their report into the latest AI automaton, Prosthetics need to feedback on, well, the feedback issues and I need a Non-fat, almond milk, Venti Caramel Frappucino.”

Your left eyebrow rose up into your hairline. “One, what did your last slave die of? And two, I thought you only drank black coffee?”

Tony lent across the desk, getting closer to you as if he had some kind of secret to reveal. “In reverse order, Pepper tells me I ought to have a more varied diet and if you, sweet Rabbit, were my slave, I would definitely have you doing far more interesting, and stimulating things, than chasing reports and picking up coffee. Alas, you are merely my PA. Although I do have an opening for a slave position.”

“Just the one position? You disappoint me, boss. I’d expect you to be far more versatile.”

He shrugged with a facade of nonchalance. “I can be versatile, just ask — actually, no. Don’t ask them. It didn’t end well. Anyway, chop-chop. The quicker you leave, the sooner you come back with my coffee and I can continue to convince you of the benefits of being my personal servant as opposed to my personal assistant.”

You pushed yourself off the desk and smoothed down your skirt. “It’s a good thing I can take all of this in the manner in which it’s meant, Tony. Anyone else would have you watching a disappointed Cap video about sexual harassment.” 

At your comment, Tony pulled a disgusted face and you giggled as you walked towards the door. You took hold of the knob, turned it and were about to make your exit when Tony decided that he had, of course, to have the last word. “If there’s ever anything else you want to take—” he waggled his eyebrows, “— I have privacy glass in this office.” 

You clicked your tongue, flipped him your middle finger and went back to your job, with a shake of your head. Not everyone could handle Tony, but you had to say it made your days that bit more interesting. And who knew, maybe, one day, you’d take him up on his offer.

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

@christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive,

@goldylions, @nicoline1998enilocin, @king814318, @blackhawkfanatic,

@strawberrylore, @scram1326, @steviebbboi, @endlesstwanted

@galactusdevourerofworlds, @apenny4thots, @crayongirl-linz, @hhiggs

[theshadowrealmitself]

“It’s cause you’re a mutate, not a mutant.”

Nobody really said anything, glancing at each other in assumed confusion, although everyone was pretty confident in their assumptions since they had pretty expressive masks. “And that matters?” Six-Arms asked.

Peter, and god it was so weird to see an alternate version of themself out of mask, shrugged a bit, “The distinction is really only important medically-speaking, although many people act like it’s a huge deal all around.” He scribbled some notes in his journal.

The silence continued till Peter looked up at all the reflective mask eyes waiting for more of an explanation. He set his pen down and cleared his throat. “Okay, so, in this universe and in several other universes I’ve had contact with, a mutant is an individual with an activated X-gene.”

Everyone nodded, that part was familiar.

“A mutate is someone with mutant-like abilities, but no x-gene. That’s important, because an X-gene pretty much guarantees stability, your body was expecting to go through these changes and have these powers so it handles it better,” he waved his hand around, “I mean, that’s the default, obviously stuff happens, and things aren’t always so smooth sailing.”

“Now this,” he gestured to Six-Arms’, well, six arms, “Is a textbook case example of a mutate. You started off seemingly stable, but because your body wasn’t actually meant to go through these changes, it started breaking down. It’s six arms today, eight eyes tomorrow.”

Six-Arms froze, before visibly panicking, arms flailing about. “Woah, woah, woah, hold on, it’s going to get worse?!”

Peter waved a hand dismissively again. This was a weirdly calm version of them. “Don’t worry, my research is exactly on this sort of thing. Well, not my thesis research, the university would never approve anything even slightly mutant-related, too controversial.” He sighed. “It’s awful too, because despite being around for so long, there’s no good research on mutants and mutates, and so hospitals are horribly unprepared to help them. It really just makes everything worse. The whole “no mutants” research rule is ridiculous-!”

“You sound almost sympathetic to mutants.” Norman’s voice cut through the beginning of an obviously familiar rant, voice steady but heavy with warning.

Peter seemed to wither before their eyes, the first real emotion they saw in him fading out. Yikes.

“Right, well.” He focused on back on his notes. It didn’t miss anyone’s attention how his shoulders tensed as he steadfastly ignored Norman. “Like I said, I can help. But I am warning you, I’m still a grad student, so really, going to me is like one step above trusting a guy in a sketchy van. I won’t take offense if you decide to go to someone like Reed Richards instead.”

“I can help.” Norman stated.

“…Or Mr. Osborn can help.” The words sounded pained.

None of the Spider-people moved. Obviously, no one wanted to accept his help, but with the way their spider-senses tingled warningly, denying him wasn’t exactly an option.

They needed to get the fuck out of this universe.

[awhoreintheory]

Another idea with Peter in Gotham is his clones also ends up there as well.

In the comics Peter has two clones, three if you count the ultimate verse and the potential comedic value of Peter in Gotham and his clones also somehow ended up there as well??

Any batfam member: who were those three people you were with earlier?

Peter:... Those were my siblings, I'm a quadruplet

Dick who just found out Peter is his son: you're a what???

Idk I just think that scenario would be funny

Im challenging someone to find it, because I read ONE singular Peter in gotham fic with a similar idea, and I can't find it anywhere

That's how you know the ideas SLAPS.

Idc about the circumstances that leads Peter and his clones into Gotham, but pure crack ensues. How are you supposed to take anything seriously with 4 spider-man's flipping around, one of which is built like a brick shit house btw, causing mayhem, but also walking women to their cars? Stopping domestic disputes? Fixing a little kids broken school project?

It literally looks like a family of spiders is trying to make their home in a bats cave. It's funny, but also a little scary.

Now, Peter being Dick's son thrown into the mix? Chaos to the tenth degree. Maybe up until this point, spider-man hasn't been connected back to Peter, and they're also running around making different connections and working different jobs, so they're not seen in public together too often. Peter's working in the library with Barbara, who has already put together that this is Dick's God damn secret love child, right. Dick is slowly trying to ease himself into his kid's (his! His kid!) Life, slowly broach the topic of "hey... so, uh, have you ever thought about meeting your dad?"

Peter hums. "No, not really."

Dick winces, and Barbara offers a sympathetic pat when Peter looks away.

"Well, ok, a little awkward, but—"

The library door bursts open. A Peter lookalike comes in, holding a brown paper sack and a phone. "Can't believe you're somehow able to leave and forget your lunch and your phone. How have you even survived this long?"

"I haven't." Peter deadpans. They both laugh. Dick and Barbara's head swivel back and forth.

"And, uh, who is... this?" Barbara snaps out of her shock first. Peter's records didn't mention a sibling... then again, they were fake. Convincing fakes to the untrained eye, but nothing held up under The Barbara Gordon's scrutiny.

"My, uh, brother?" Peter raised an eyebrow, probably at his boss's weird reaction, and his boss's friend's horrified face.

But how could Dick not be horrified? The two teenagers in front of him were identical. Identical twins. He had two sons and he didn't even know about them. How does that not come up? No, no Dick should've done better research. Oh, god, he has twin sons.

"I didn't—" Dick's voice cracks embarrassingly. He clears his throat. "I didn't, uh, know you had a twin."

Peter's twin tilts his head, studying Dick.

"Actually, I'm a quadruplet!" Peter cheerfully rings, grinning ear to ear.

Dick's heart nearly gives out.

[s-horne]

There was a time when Tony had panicked about his future. 

He’d had Peter young, just a couple of years into a crappy relationship that had fallen apart long before their bundle of joy had come and couldn’t be fixed even by Peter’s cherubic smile. From the very first moment, Tony had loved his boy. There hadn’t been a moment that Tony had regretted the relationship that had led him to his son, or ever wished that things had turned out differently. Not when Peter had had a phase as a baby of not sleeping through the night if the temperature wasn’t exactly 78 degrees, not when he’d learnt to talk and hadn’t exited his “why” phase for weeks on end, not even during the long weekend when Peter had caught pretty much every bug floating around his daycare all at once. 

Parenthood was where Tony thrived but, through it all, he’d lain awake at night and longed for someone next to him that wasn’t 2 feet tall and not quite potty trained. He’d wanted a conversation with another adult that wasn’t hurried at the drop-off gate or about yet another late project at work, and he’d wanted an arm around his waist when he was dangerously close to falling asleep whilst making himself his first coffee of the day. 

Everything he wanted for himself, he also wanted for Peter’s sake. He’d wanted someone else to see Peter’s drawings and marvel over them as they went up on the fridge day after day after day. He’d wished for presents from a grandparent at Christmas and another parent who could calm them both down when Peter refused to sleep even as the sun started to rise on the horizon. 

Tony had spent years worrying that no one would take on a small child with an absent parent who could come back and cause a storm at any time. He’d never expected anything to come from a one-night stand when the lights had been turned on in the morning and all of Peter’s toys could be seen in their scattered glory. 

But, then again, Tony had never imagined Steven Grant Rogers. 

.

They’d decided early into their planning that they didn’t want to do a walk down the aisle. Neither of Tony’s parents would be there to walk with him and Sarah had gotten so tearful at the prospect of their engagement alone that they didn’t trust her to be able to see to walk down the aisle on the wedding day itself. 

What they had decided instead was to have Peter as the star of the show, with the rings safely in his possession as he walked down the aisle to both of his parents waiting for him at the altar. 

And, boy, did he steal the show. 

Tony watched with a wide grin as Peter all but skipped up the aisle, his tuxedo so little it was almost comical. Casting a glance to his left, Tony felt something ridiculously fond catch in his chest at the pure and unabashed expression of love on Steve’s face as his eyes tracked Peter’s dance. 

“God, look at him,” Steve murmured.

“He’s gonna drop those rings before we can get them,” Tony laughed. 

“Yeah, probably. But he looks cute, so I’m sure we’ll survive without them.”

Tony scoffed. Be that as it may, he wanted a ring on his finger.

All of a sudden, Peter let out a gasp and started running. “Grandma!”

A ripple of laughter made its way through the guests as Peter headed straight for Steve’s mother. 

“Oh, look at you, my darling,” Sarah crooned, bending down and smoothing a hand over Peter’s hair when he reached her. “You look so gorgeous, little man."

"Hi, Grandma!"

"Hello, my love," Sarah laughed.

"Wanna sit with you!"

"Of course, but first you have to give Daddy the rings. They're very important.”

Peter took Sarah’s hand in a tight grip and practically shoved the ring cushion in Tony’s direction without looking at him. Steve laughed loudly, his eyes still solely on Peter as well.

Tony might have been jealous if he hadn’t been so relieved. So, yeah, he thought to himself as he untied the rings from the cushion and handed them to the officiant, he really needn’t have worried after all. 

[orangeboulevard]

Seven: Climb (Venom!Reader x AndrewGarfield!Spiderman)

Summary: Peter Parker should know that anything that can go wrong will go wrong on his patrols.

Word Count: 578

"I do not understand you!" A voice with an odd inflection and guttural tone bombarded Peter's ears.

"We can't just eat anyone, okay? Why is that so hard to understand?"

Peter noted a different voice, its sound was much kinder to Peter's intensified hearing but its actual words left him stupefied. Peter Parker, clad in his Spider-Man costume, had been absentmindedly scaling the side of a building on his patrol when he found himself eavesdropping on a very unusual conversation.

"You said 'bad people', he was clearly a bad person, he was stealing!" The first voice argued.

"Stealing baby wipes and diapers! We don't eat people like that." Peter had to keep himself from leaping from the wall, there were cannibals on that rooftop! Cannibalism is definitely on his list of no-nos.

"Human morals are too complicated to understand. My own race follows no such stupid rules, it is as your Darwin would say 'survival of the fittest'."

"That's why you're on Earth because you're definitely not the fittest-" This statement was met with an indignified roar that almost made Peter shit himself. "-And how do you even know about Darwin?... Have you been on the internet again!?"

"..."

"I told you no web surfing while I sleep!" "It is very boring! I cannot help myself!" "I can't believe you!"

Peter had heard enough damning evidence to bring these people in, the strange and sick cannibals that they were, so with a swift movement- he launched himself up and landed on the roof. Oddly, he only found one person instead of two. He tilted his head and almost jumped back in sheer fear as the person transformed into a dark towering beast.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"Aw, is the little spider afraid? You should be. The tasty meal that you are."

"There will be no eating or snacking of any kind, thank you very much!" Peter squeaked out, feeling very much out of his depth with this new adversary. 

The huge creature scrambled towards him on all fours eliciting an unmanly shriek from the young man as he flung himself out of reach of it. It turned to follow him but before it could, it transformed back into the recognisable shape of a human. Peter let out a shaky breath as you held your hands up. 

"Sorry, sorry! Spider-Man, right? Aw, man. I'm a huge fan. Sucks we have to meet like this." Peter felt whiplash at the difference in the interactions, he couldn't respond with how perplexed and dumbfounded he was.

A serpentine black sludge erupted from your neck, it curled around to face you, and all of its razor-sharp white fangs were born, "I am hungry, I do not care about who Spider-Man is or your attraction to him!"

You splutter, face heating up, "What? No, I'm not- such slander! How preposterous!"

Peter ran a gloved hand down his face before leaping down to be face to face with you, "I'm sorry but what the hell is going on right now? What IS that? Do you have a sentient tapeworm?"

"TAPEWORM?"

"Sorry! Not a tapeworm, sorry!"

You cough and stuff your hands into your pockets, and you begin to ramble, "He's just an alien, picked him up a while ago, and he's just uhh carnivorous. Don't take me to the police, please, you're so sexy ahaha."

Peter tilted his head in confusion.

[femd-archive]

“can you refresh my mind and tell me why we are doing this again?” between grunts, peter tries to remain as sarcastic as always, even as he’s taking your 7 inch strap-on like a pro.

“because you gave me the green light to go and said that it was okay that we tried pegging tonight?” you answer, a doubtful tone in your voice in a joking manner as you finally bottom out.

upon seeing the discomfort in your husband’s face, you caressed from his thighs to his belly and chest, bending over him to leave a kiss on his cheek before looking him in the eye.

“but really, if you wanna stop just let me know. if it isn’t pleasurable for you, it isn’t for me either, remember that” you kiss the tip of his nose, and he smiles at you.

“i’ll do” he whispers, hand coming to the back of your neck and pushing you down to kiss your lips.

after a while adjusting to the new feeling inside him, he told you that you could start moving, and so you do, thrusting in him slowly.

“oh, fuuuck…where did you learn to move your hips like that?”

“i had a great teacher and close-up lessons” you grin at his blushing face.

“fuck, fuck! go…faster. yeah…faster baby” all his limbs wrapped around you, caging you in his strong grip as you fuck into him.

the room filled with his moans and whimpers, along with the slap of your skins hitting each other.

“good thing you have a day off tomorrow, because i’m gonna tire you out tonight baby”

[weewoowings]

~ Ficlet Friday ~

Tagged by @sagasimon

The Rules: Copy the following prompts or make your own, post what fandoms you write for & your followers can request one of the prompts with a ship or character and fandom for a ficlet of 100-500 words. Please mention if you don't want M or E content otherwise it will be assumed anything goes. Have fun!

Disclaimer: Mature is okay-ish, if you request E, it won't be very enjoyable for you, because I'm not experienced in that field.

❤️ fluff

😘 shameless flirting

❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort

🤣 crack

😷 sick fic

🫣 new experiences

👥 domestic bliss

Fandoms and ships I'm willing to write...

9-1-1: Tevan, Buddie, Buck/Taylor, HenRen

SPN: Destiel, Benny/Dean, Benny/Dean/Cas, Mick/Cas

Marvel: FrostIron, WinterIron, Starker

Sherlock: Johnlock

HP: Severus/Hermione, Hermione/Draco

Tagging: @bibibievansbuckley @verschlimmbesserung @desiraelovesdestiel

Please allow some time between request and posting. Life is FUCKING crazy at the moment.

[ghosttalksalot]

if you know me you know i LOVE a real spidery peter. natural web production and all. ESPECIALLY when wade loves it.

starting this post off with a real quick spider lesson. you can skip to the next paragraph, but it explains the way i write peter here a bit. most spiders have what are called 'slit sense organs.' these are on their legs and bodies, and they allow them to detect what's on their web without seeing with their eyes. so they can detect the difference between prey getting caught, a leaf falling into the web, and a breeze. anyway~

peter might have some kind of an anxious habit, maybe he tries not to, its a little embarrassing. well, maybe not embarassing... but he definitely doesn't want people to know because they definitely would not get it. but after a real hard day when hes still feeling a little jumpy, he will weave a web. nothing CRAZY... just a little something over his bed and connected to the door and the close walls so he knows whats going on. its not CRAZY... its just different. there's a reason he's not open about it.

regardless, if he doesn't make it big enough to lay on that day he'll have his hand resting against it, just so he knows if anything happens in his room. he jumps a little less hearing ac turn on if he feels the breeze through the web as well, can't convince himself its something else. after all, it won't be there forever, it's just to reassure him for now. sometimes after a whole lot of people try to kill you, you want some reassurance.

so now he's getting closer with wade. he trusts him enough to have had him over, but he's not yet shared his name or face. he knows deadpool could have long since found him if he wanted to, so he figures going a little out of order doesn't matter. wade clearly intends on letting peter share as he's ready, which is a slightly unexpected but nonetheless appreciated kindness.

before patrol happened, wade told him he would bring pizza over that night. sounded great at the time, free food was always great, but with everything that happened that night he'd quickly forgotten. he's "relaxing" - he could hardly be more tense, doesn't quite seem right to call it relaxing - in his anxiously woven web, and three things go through his mind when he hears the window unlatch.

first, he's excited to get semi-unexpected pizza. second, he hopes wade didn't get mushrooms AGAIN. third, oh my god oh my fuck he's unmasked in a giant embarrassing web. that's one too many things to fix and far too little time to do so. his instincts take over and before the window is open, he leaps to his feet and pulls his mask over his face. guess deadpool gets to see him in a shirt and basketball shorts tonight, but it surely won't be the first thing he notices.

wade drops in through the window with five pizza boxes. the pizza smells amazing but peter is definitely not thinking about that. deadpool is frozen still, and for maybe the first time its almost seems that he's thinking before he speaks.

"i can... i can definitely explain this"

"webs... this is...."

"yeah, i know, it's weird, it's just been a long day, and i can-"

"i told you i was bringing pizza, what are you trying to catch bugs for?" the grin is now evident in wade's voice. peter groans.

"that's not what im doing, wade."

"really? because this is some excellent craftsmanship. if i were a bug i would definitely wander my way into this to get eaten by the big scary spider." wade plucks a strand of the webbing experimentally before semi-carefully placing down the pizza boxes and throwing his arms up in celebration. "and look! your hunt is successful! i didn't think to put bugs on the pizza but-"

"no, no. that's good. no bugs on pizza" peter's head is in his hands. "just sit down wade."

"on the web?"

"just sit."

"on the web it is!" wade plops down and peter flinches slightly at the movement in the web.

"be careful, will you? i can feel the vibrations in the web." wade slowly turns to him, wide eyes and excitement evident. peter takes the opportunity to take two of the pizza boxes. luckily, both of the ones on top just have pepperoni, and not whatever hellish combination wade asked the poor pizza man for today.

"am i allowed to ask?"

"you get two questions only. i won't answer more." wade thinks for a moment before settling on his first.

"why the web if not for bugs? because it really would be great for bugs, you drew me right in the window and im not even a-"

"so i know what comes into my room. i only do it after a bad night. next."

"...am i prey now, because im in the spider-man-web?"

"no, wade."

"will you still eat me if i ask nicely?"

"no, wade."

"HA! that was three answers." wade chuckles, proud of himself, and peter rolls his eyes under the mask.

"you're not... bothered by all this? i mean. it's a giant.... spider.. man.. web."

"nah. ...it's cool. i dig the weird spidery shit. web me up, spidey, if you catch my drift." wade waggles his eyebrows under the mask. peter groans grabs the nearest soft object to hurl it at him as wade laughs loudly.

although, peter supposes, if anyone were to find him in his...spider-man-web.... he'd rather it be wade. something about the merc's ability to never be truly shocked by his "spidery shit" came across as sincerely nonjudgemental. in that way, he felt comfortable with wade in a way he didn't with anyone else. he could relax and be himself, even the parts that were weird.

"what are you smiling for, spides?" wade puffed up his chest. "finally appreciating my excellent attempts at spider-seduction?"

"nah, it's just good pizza." peter took another bite and rolled his eyes at wade for the millionth time, this time because of his dramatic pouting. although he was sure he'd regret admitting it, he didn't mind having deadpool around. if anything, he enjoyed wade's company more than that of most people. he definitely could not admit that one. not now, at least. maybe, in the future, though. when wade can see his smile as he says it, and when wade can call him peter in his response. maybe then. for now though, he's just happy to eat pizza with him and not feel judged. this is good.

[ghost : im not happy with this one tbh... i love the idea but not the execution. ill revisit it in the future. here's this for now]

[late-to-the-party-81]

Tony putting Peter in a skirt with no underwear and pushing a vibrator into his ass and then making walk around during their date

Challenge Accepted

Sorry this took so long, but I hope you enjoy this little ficlet, which I’ve decided is set in ‘A place on earth’ universe, because I can. As always, aged-up Peter Parker

Un-beta’d so apologies in advance.

Join my tag list here.

Relationship: Tony Stark x Peter Parker

Word Count: approx 700

CW: Mild exhibitionism, mild feminisation, Sex toys, Sass and Snark, discussions of safe words, pet names, implied future smut

Peter came to a dead stop, almost tripping over his own feet, as the vibrations swept through him. The only thing that kept him upright was the deathgrip he had on Tony’s arm, which was ironic considering that Tony was also the source of the issue.

“Are you alright there, bambino?” Tony’s voice was saccharine sweet, full of faux concern and Peter glared at him.

“Peachy…”

“Yes you are,” Tony bounced back, and then decided to add insult to injury by grabbing a handful of Peter’s ass and giving it a squeeze and a jiggle, an act that did nothing to restore Peter’s equilibrium. A moan left his lips unbidden and his eyelids fluttered and he could hear Tony’s low chuckle.

“Keep making noises like that, and I won’t be responsible for my actions,” Tony said close to his ear.

“When are you ever?” The situation was making Peter feel sassy, and if he didn’t like to tread the fine line of danger he wouldn’t have become SpiderMan in the first place.

Tony chuckled again, but the vibrations eased and Peter drew in a few deep breaths, willing his body back under control.

“Are you ready to keep walking, sweetheart? I’d hate for us to miss our reservation. Although, with me being me, it wouldn’t actually be that much of a problem.” Tony started walking, and Peter was forced to move along with him, the weight of the plug heavy inside him.

“Humble, aren’t you?” Yes, the sass was strong today. So sue him.

“And you love me for it, Petey-pie.” Tony gently patted Peter’s hand where it was looped through his other arm.

“At this moment in time, I think I hate you.”

Tony clicked his tongue. “I think you will find, amore mio, that the mess you currently find yourself is one of your own making. I’m sure it was you who said - and I quote - “I can take anything you can dish out, Daddy. And you did start it all, skipping around the apartment in lingerie and making me have even nastier thoughts that I’d already had.”

“Yes,” Peter hissed out between clenched teeth, “but I meant at home. In private. And not in a skirt.” He gestured down at the red miniskirt that barely covered his ass. “People are staring…”

“So, full on exhibitionism is out? Noted.”

“Tony!” Peter hated to whine and pout, but he was feeling so exposed and there was a funny feeling in his tummy.

Tony halted them this time, turning towards Peter, effectively shielding his slighter frame from prying eyes, and taking hold of his hands. “If people are staring, it’s to call me an old letch - which I fully admit I am. But if you’re that uncomfortable, we can go home. You can safeword at any time, baby, and you get your reward either way.”

“I-” Peter started to reply, but then snapped his lips shut. What did he want to do? Yes, his cheeks were flaming, and people were staring, and the skirt made him feel so vulnerable, but at the same time he had Tony by his side. Tony made him feel so safe and so loved. And the vibrations of the plug he was wearing were obviously not unpleasant. As he mulled everything over his cock twitched, something that was telegraphed to Tony as well, due to the way the red cotton moved with it. Maybe he was feeling so jumpy because that’s how he expected to feel? He couldn’t deny the thrill he was feeling alongside it ,so maybe… “I’m alright to continue, Daddy,” he finally replied, and Tony’s mouth split into a broad grin, before he ducked down and kissed Peter a little more passionately than he normally would for such a public setting.

“You’re going to be the death of me, bambino mio,” he stated when he let them both come up for air. “And I tell you what, if you can get through lunch without drawing too much attention, then afterwards I’m going to take advantage of the easy access of your attire and suck off that perfect little cock in the executive washroom.”

Peter blushed deeper at the thought, but started to walk along the sidewalk with Tony once more. That was until the vibrations started up again, making him gasp. “Daddy!”

Tony shrugged. “Like I’m going to make it too easy for you, baby. Let’s see how much you can take…”

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

@doasyoudesireandlive, @endlesstwanted,