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muchosbesitos · 5 months

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OKOK BUT LIKE CUCKHOLDING WITH MIGGY AND PETER B

That would be soooo fucking hot

sharing’s caring

pairing: miguel o’hara x peter b parker x fem reader

contents: cucking, slight nipple play, oral (f and m receiving), masturbation (m), unprotected p in v, some aftercare

author’s note: put me in a room with them and they both coming out pregnant 🗣️

word count: 3.3K

Miguel O’Hara was possessive by nature, making sure that what he acquired stayed as his. His possessive nature had started off with material items, moving onto being possessive over the people in his life out of fear. Out of fear that they would leave him or find someone else, he wasn't too sure, but he didn't want to take chances. It was no surprise to see him clenching his fist by his side, his mouth in the signature scowl that he carried while he looked at you interacting with Peter B.

The scene was purely innocent between the two of you, knowing that you were providing him with some comfort after his umpteenth divorce with MJ but that didn't stop the jealousy that brewed deep inside of him. Your hand rested on his shoulder, simply rubbing it as you tried to reassure him to the best of your ability. "I'm sure that if it's meant to be, she'll come back to you," you told him, handing him a tissue to wipe his nose on. "Peter," you heard from behind you, the hairs on the back of your head standing up as you saw Miguel standing there. His hands instinctively wrapped around your waist, a silent cue that you were his.

"Didn't mean to make a scene but your girlfriend here's a good therapist," the lanky man told him, tossing the tissue after he was done. "Does she now?" Miguel mused, his tone seeming normal to everyone else but you could tell he was refraining from saying what he wanted to. "I was thinking of inviting you over to dinner, actually. We'd love to have you and I'm sure that you could use the company," Miguel added on, watching as Peter's eyes lit up at just the prospect of having food available. "Sure, what time would you like me to be there?" Peter responded, the tears on his cheeks already starting to dry. "We'll see you at seven."

"Do you mind helping me put this necklace on?" You asked Miguel after a couple minutes of struggling, his tall frame coming behind you. You were seated at the vanity in your bedroom, finishing up on getting ready for the dinner tonight. "You know my hands are too big for those little clasps," he muttered, his talons extended as the clasp of the necklace hung on the tip. The sharp edge of the talons helped him put it on with much more ease, the gold necklace adorning your outfit perfectly. “So why'd you ask Peter for dinner?" you inquired, looking at him through the mirror. "Just wanted to do something for a struggling friend."

He was finishing up getting ready himself, a couple of the buttons on his shirt starting to snap off with how hard he was forcing them. He changed into a black button down, the material doing nothing to conceal the layers of muscle he'd built up over the years. You got up and decided to help him with the buttons before this shirt met the fate as the other one. "Thank you," he murmured, looking down at you as you focused on getting the buttons into the right spot. You leaned over, kissing his cheek when you were done with the task. You couldn't help but smile as he held you in his arms, his hands resting on your waist as he held you close. A loud knock on the door interrupted the both of you, both of you reluctantly letting go before heading downstairs.

You'd made a simple meatloaf for dinner, knowing that Peter couldn't handle the same amount of spices that Miguel could. "It's a little simple, no?" Miguel pointed out, taking a sip from his wine glass to help it go down easier. "What are you talking about? It's delectable!" Peter exclaimed, licking his fingers of the juices from the steak that were dripping down his hand. You look over at Miguel knowingly, taking a bite from your own slice before realizing that he was right. "So Peter, how are you spending your time after the divorce?" you asked him, trying to make some conversation to the dinner wouldn't appear too boring. "Uh, mostly just watching tv and whatnot."

Conversation between the three of you went by smoothly, with you and Peter talking for most of the time while miguel simply listened to the both of you speak. "So, hypothetically, if you could have your way with my girlfriend right now, what is it that you would do to her?" Miguel spoke up, the question catching you completely off guard. Your head shot up and you glared over at him, his attention directed on Peter for his reaction. Peter looked at you like he was debating on what the answer was, setting down his fork before answering. "I think I would worship her, admire her body rather than try to be in a rush all the time. Take things slow."

Throughout the rest of the dinner, the wheels inside of your head wouldn't stop turning as the conversation from earlier repeated itself over and over. You guessed that it was Miguel’s objective with the dinner all along, to help prove to you that Peter B did in fact have some sort of a physical attraction towards you. Though the question that Miguel had asked him wasn't too inherently sexual, you could tell just from the tone that he was using that what was the hidden innuendo behind it. You cleaned up the plates after they finished up eating, deciding to join them on the couch to watch whatever was on tv before Peter went home.

The three of you were sitting down on the couch, Miguel’s arm around your shoulders as you snuggled up closer to him. Your eyes were glued to the tv, paying attention to the show onscreen before your attention was diverted by Miguel clearing his throat. "So how would you like to explore those fantasies of yours? It'd be just for the night, of course," he spoke up, Peter's eyes flicking over to him. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose or anything, and who knows if she's even comfortable with it," Peter responded, sounding a bit nervous as he spoke. "She doesn't have any objections to it. Trust me, you won't be imposing at all."

The two men led you to the bedroom, Peter trailing behind the two of you as Miguel maneuvered his way through the house. You saw that one of the chairs from miguel's home office had been moved to the corner of the room, his tall frame making the chair creak under his weight. You looked over at Peter, his face slowly leaning in closer to meet yours. his lips pressed against you gently, giving you enough time to back away if you were feeling uncomfortable with the contact. You were receptive to the kiss, your lips enveloping his in a seemingly innocent kiss before deepening the action. He explored your mouth with such eagerness, his tongue dancing along with yours in what seemed to be a sensual tango.

His mouth moved down to your shirt, looking up at you to receive some form of consent before he took it off. you nodded, his fingers doing quick work of taking it off and tossing it to the side. As he looked down at you, you couldn't help but notice the way that his eyes glinted underneath the lights. He looked at you like he was almost admiring you, admiring something that he'd only be able to have this once. His hands came to the back of your bra, unhooking it with expertise before tossing it to the side as well. His mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking on it like he'd been deprived of the taste. His hand came to your other breast, tugging and pinching it to get the nipple as erect as the other one.

Your hand came up to his hair, your mouth slightly parted as your breathing starting to get a little heavier. You looked over at miguel to see what his reaction was, his features revealing nothing of what it was that he was feeling. "Hey, eyes on me," Peter spoke up, your attention drifting over towards him once more as he swirled his tongue around your nipple. He switched places, giving your other breast the same kind of dedication that he'd given the other one. You tugged on his hair gently as he continued to stimulate your nipples, your thighs clenching out of instinct as you felt yourself start to grow wet.

Peter kept his eyes on you as he kissed down your stomach, reaching the hem of your pants in a short time. After finding that you weren't saying no to him, he unbuttoned your pants and motioned for you to lift up your hips. You did as he asked, lifting up your hips to give him better accessibility to you. He got in between your legs, licking a stripe up your clothed cunt as a method of teasing you. "Stop teasing me Mig-," you were about to say, cutting yourself off before you finished the rest of the sentence. You'd been having sex with Miguel for so long that your mind instantly went to the default rather than the person in front of you. "Ah sorry, it's actually Peter," the man underneath you teased, his fingers gently running through the hem of your panties.

He took off your panties, your glistening cunt exposed to the two men in the room. Peter stepped back so Miguel could get a proper view, your eyes drifting over to him. He'd zipped his fly down, his hand palming at his straining cock, a clear outline shown through the black boxers that he'd chosen to wear. "Such a little slut getting wet for other men," Miguel spoke up, your brows furrowing a bit before Peter lifted your chin up to him. He enveloped your mouth in his, kissing you with such a fervor and need as his fingers slipped inside your cunt with ease. While they weren't as long and as thick as Miguel’s, they were able to reach the spots that had your toes curling in anticipation.

He pulled his hand away, getting on his stomach as he got closer to your cunt. He tentatively licked a stripe up the folds of your pussy, your fingers tangling up in his hair as you realized just how eager he seemed to be. You'd seen the way that Peter fucked up the burgers in the cafeteria, eating like a man starved, so it was no surprise that he was giving your pussy the same treatment. Peter plunged his tongue into your hole, a loud mewl escaping from you as he thrust it in and out. "You didn't tell me how tasty your girlfriend was, Miguel. You've been holding out on me," Peter mumbled, too pussy drunk to bring his face up to speak to him properly. "Enjoy her while you got her."

Your hips pushed back onto Peter’s expecting face, shamelessly grinding against his face as you tried to get yourself off. You were refraining from moaning out his name, keeping it to the simple 'oh' and the 'right there.' "Tell me who's making you feel this good, baby. Come on don't be shy," Peter cooed, his mouth clamped around your clit as he sucked on the nub. "Oh, it's you Peter," you responded, your voice sounding breathless even to your ears. You tugged on the strands of his hair harder as his fingers came inside you, working at the same pace that he was sucking your clit in. His fingers curled with the goal of finding your g-spot, soon hitting that spongy spot inside with every thrust that he took.

The balls of your feet pressed against the mattress as you came around Peter's mouth, your slick glistening across his lips and chin. He pressed a small kiss to your folds before pulling away, leaning over and kissing you once more. You looked over to see Miguel pumping his cock with his head lolled back, his finger collecting some precum on the tip of his finger and smearing it across the base to help out with the friction. Peter took off his pants, his boxers following suit before he reached over and grabbed a pillow from beside you. He angled your hips up, allowing him to thrust into you with much more ease. He slid inside slowly, giving you enough time to reject his advances if that was something you wanted to do.

Peter's cock nestled inside of you, like he was just basking in the opportunity of having his dick inside of a wet cunt once more. He slowly retracted his cock, pushing into you in one swift motion. "Such a tight pussy, your boyfriend hasn't been fucking you right?" He asked, your walls clenching against his cock like a vice. They practically engulfed his cock, forcing him to go deeper inside of you. You stayed quiet, not wanting to offend the man sitting in the corner but you heard a tut come out from Miguel. "He asked you a question, nena. Answer him," Miguel’s voice came out strained, his hand tightening around his shaft as a way to replicate the sensation of your cunt. "Somewhat, just need you to fuck me right," you responded as you played into the role, looking up at Peter with your best attempt at doe eyes.

"Such a dirty mouth. Maybe we'll have to stuff you up and see how dissatisfied you truly are after that," he told you, Miguel’s figure looming over the both of you before he approached your side. His hand came down to your breast, his thumb circling around the nipple as your hand went over to his cock, pumping him slowly. "Open," he ordered, his red eyes locked on yours as he slid his cock into your expecting mouth. You sat up a little bit to position yourself to take his cock, brushing your mouth against the sides of his shaft before taking him in your mouth.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock, tasting the semi salty remnants of his precum. Peter slowly thrusted into you, trying to get you used to the sensation of having him inside of you before he sped up. "You can go faster, Peter. She can take it. Can't you, sweetheart?" You were eager to comply, your head nodding even as Miguel was speaking. Peter's thrusts sped up, his balls slapping against the back of your thighs every time that he moved forward. You moaned around Miguel’s cock, the sound coming out muffled since your mouth was completely stuffed by the sheer thickness of his length.

You moved your head further down Miguel’s cock, one of your hands reaching over to his balls as you held the sack in your hands. You gently ran your fingers through it, giving it a small massage before tugging on them slightly. His hand came to the back of your head, forcing you to take his length in deeper. You felt tears brimming at the corner of your eyes as he triggered your gag reflex, your spit coating his length as you tried to get readjusted to the feeling. Your cheeks hollowed as you tried to take more of him in, looking up at him as you did so. "That's it, that's it," Miguel moaned out, his eyes closing as he felt your tongue running down the underside of his cock.

Peter's hands came to your hips, holding on to them as he thrusted deeply into you. your back arched slightly as you felt him brush up against your g-spot, your mouth parted. "That's it, right there," you moaned out, your words coming out muffled from Miguel’s cock in your mouth. "Can't hear you right, princess. What was that? You wanted me to slow down?" He decided to tease you, his pace agonizingly slow as he saw the desperation coax your features. You took Miguel’s cock out of your mouth, needing him to speed up. "No, please. Go back to what you were doing before," you asked of him, tears in your eyes at the prospect of being denied an orgasm. You pushed your hips against his, trying to use his cock to your advantage but you were quickly stopped.

"So impatient, all you had to do was ask," Peter mused, his thrusts resuming to what they had been before. "You'll be a good girl for Peter, right nena?" Miguel cooed as he looked down at you, stroking your cheek ever so softly. He knew that you were too fucked out to say a word right now, but seeing you attempt to form a coherent sentence in your state was borderline adorable. "I'll be good, I'm sorry!" You spoke up, putting your mouth back on Miguel’s cock as Peter's hand came down to your clit. Your muffled moans sent vibrations all over Miguel’s body, getting him closer and closer to that edge as Peter neared to it as well.

Your cunt squeezed around his cock tightly, the all too familiar coil building up inside of you. "Please let me cum," you pleaded with him, unsure of your ability to hold it if you were denied. "Since you've been so good to me, you can cum," Peter responded, your cunt squeezing around his cock for a final time before fresh slick from your release coated his shaft. He continued to keep the same pace, working you through your orgasm and working towards his own. "Gonna get you fucking pregnant with the way you keep squeezing around me," Peter groaned out, his thigh muscles tightening as he approached his orgasm. "Like hell you are," Miguel grumbled, pushing Peter off you before he came inside.

Peter's hand wrapped around his shaft as he pumped at it, working towards replicating what he felt inside of your cunt to reach his orgasm. Ropes of cum landed on your chest and stomach, a loud moan erupting from his throat as he did. Miguel came a couple seconds after that, his cum landing on your tongue and in the corners of your mouth. You swallowed the substance, licking at your lips once he had. your attention shifting over to Peter who was already starting to get dressed to leave, tucking himself in his boxers. “I'll walk you out, Peter," Miguel told him, getting dressed as well.

You felt dirty as you were sitting down on the bed, your stomach starting to get sticky from the cum splayed on it. You got up, grabbing a towel to clean yourself up before going to the toilet, making sure to pee before you went back to bed. “We should do that again sometime," Peter told Miguel just as he was about to leave, a dark chuckle eliciting out of the other man in response. "This was a one and done deal. Do so much as look in her direction again and I'll shocking kill you. Understood?" Miguel muttered, keeping his voice quiet so you wouldn't overhear. What you did hear was when Miguel was telling him goodnight, to drive home safely.

"You okay? We didn't exert you too much or anything?" Miguel asked, approaching you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I’m alright, thanks," you muttered, a little disappointed that Peter didn't even bother to look at you after he got what he needed. You figured at least as a friend, he would’ve given you a goodbye before he left. You leaned your head back into Miguel’s touch, his hands circling around your waist slowly. "I got you some of that ice cream you like, we could watch a movie and eat that if that's something you want to do," he told you, giving your forehead a small kiss before retreating to the kitchen when you agreed. Though you enjoyed the thrill of what you'd done with both Peter and Miguel, these moments wrapped up in Miguel’s arms as he held you close to him was what made you feel all fuzzy inside.

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ficthots · 8 months

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A/N: Wow, just yeah. I know it's been a long while since I posted for Peter, but like I promised, I was working on things for him and here it is! Now, I'll crawl back into my cave until my next writing is ready. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 6.4K+

Time is a fucking thief. Really, it is. Waking up with the rising of the sun, getting ready to go to a job you despised, remaining in a windowless cubicle for eight hours, making dinner, then time to sleep again. Watching the clock as each passing minute was taken from you over and over again. Now when you throw being a superhero into the mix, it makes it even worse.

Holding down relationships, careers, any and all of the important things in life were always seemingly snatched away when it came to the personal life of crime fighting vigilante Spider-Man. That’s why when you entered his life it was like getting another opportunity to engage with time he had never experienced before.

Looking forward to coming home and eating dinner, stopping by on patrol nights to give you a goodnight kiss no matter what, to Peter Parker, he would do everything in his power to devote as much time as he possibly could to you.

Perhaps you were the time thief in his life now. Either way he didn’t mind when it came to you.

Were there times when it just simply wasn’t possible to shovel all of his waking energy towards you? Of course! The problems came when it had been that way for months. Yeah, you read that right.

In the span of four months, Peter had become so ravaged with his other entities responsibilities that his time with you was drastically rescinded. Unanswered text messages for days, not a peep from him for a week at a time, no more windowsill kisses. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

You understood at first. Hell, you had been dating the man for three years! What was happening, though, was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before. A group of men, identities undisclosed, were wreaking havoc throughout New York City. For months on end, like clockwork, every other week a crime would occur.

Each more gruesome than the last.

Peter had never really been on a deadline like this. Knowing that with each ticking second it was growing closer to the next attack. Spending all nights on the streets, trying to spot whoever could be responsible for this.

The worst part was that he had no leads. A few locations that were all pointless distractions. No semblance of an inkling as to who was committing all of these atrocities. In the span of time since their starting, over eight lives had been taken. A mind boggling number for such a short span of time.

Police were just as useless and he had decided to not take up any more time than necessary with them in tow simply because they weren’t taking this as seriously as they should have been. Instead of confronting the public, reminding them to be careful and not to wander alone past sunset, they were sweeping it under the rug.

Not wanting to cause a public disturbance. No need to fear monger they had told Spider-Man. Assuring him that all of those victims were tied to a gang in one way or another and it was criminal activity work. Something that he shouldn’t spend too much time dwelling on.

That was not a good enough answer for Peter. He didn’t believe them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it was a group behind all of this. It could have been a serial killer that was on one hell of a spree.

There was no pattern with their victims either. Randomly selected from the streets. What you didn’t understand was why Peter was involved with all of this. Of course, you knew he wanted to do all in his power to save as many lives as he could, but you warned him to be careful after the initial police warning.

Sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong was not going to end well. It had been the first time you two had argued to that extent. Shouting at the top of your lungs you weren’t ready to lose him and that’s what you were afraid was in the works.

He called you silly for thinking such things. That you needed to have more faith in him than you were giving. It still didn’t answer why he was so invested in this. You knew there were details he was purposely not giving you. Maybe he didn’t want to frighten you or maybe he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it, but to you, you were a partnership, a pair.

All you wanted was to have Peter back around. Who knows, you might be able to actually help him if he came to you and showed you what he did and did not have. Instead, he hid it from you. Becoming cold and aloof. Distant and consumed.

If there was something you knew about Peter it was that he did not like being bested. Truly holding himself to a standard that was near impossible. Knowing he was above average intelligence, to put it lightly, when people tried outsmarting him, it was always a humorous effort. No one bested Spider-Man.

This time, they were.

Following that night of your monstrous bickering, you hadn’t seen or heard from Peter in over a week. Honestly, you weren’t making much of an effort yourself. Having no interest in being around him when he was in a head space like this. Knowing that there really was no way to help him if he presented nothing to you.

Peter on the other hand was not okay with you going dark on him. Despite knowing that the clock was dwindling down before their next attack, it was the first time in weeks you had been at the forefront of his mind. The little voice in the back of his head was telling him he needed to smooth this over with you or he would regret it.

Which is why he was climbing into your living room window with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, opting to take the night off even though it could be a crucial turning point. He ended up convincing himself it would be alright because if he didn’t have a direction to go in an hour before arriving at your apartment, then hunting tonight was pointless.

He didn’t have a direction.

Even though you hadn’t spoken to Peter, your thoughts were consumed by him as well. What was the bit of information he wasn’t giving you? Was there even anything he was leaving out? There could be the slim possibility he had actually divulged all he knew to you. But you knew better than that. Peter was hiding something, you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The notes.

Discovered next to each of the victims he had come across. Given he was the only individual to find them and when he tried bringing it to the attention of the police, they had shrugged him off. They were trying to get to him.

Sheets of white printer paper, the typical horror movie fashion of assembly. Varying letters from magazines, newspapers, old letters, all taped and pasted on the paper in a note. Each one was different, but told in a fashion of a word problem. Some were like riddles.

Either way, with each new victim that appeared, so did a new note. It was one of the things he dreaded the most. Seeing what possibly innocent person had been selected in order to deliver the paper to him. His stomach turned just at the thought of it.

Tonight was not for that, though. Instead he chose to bury it in the back of his brain and spend some much needed time with you. So why weren’t you home?

If there was one thing Peter knew and loved about you was that you were a schedule person. Totally type-a, your day planned to perfection and given it was just after six o’clock that evening, you should’ve been in the kitchen plating your dinner.

Except, there was no you in the kitchen, there was no music or television playing in the background, it looked as though nothing had been touched all day. Until he stepped further into the kitchen.

When his eyes darted over to the corner of your counter, partly covered by your fridge, he froze. There it sat. An uneaten bowl of cereal. The milk on the counter next to it, the cereal box still opened and there.

As he approached it, observing the contents, you hadn’t even gotten a spoon out yet. It was filled to the brim, more so than you would’ve liked, but given it hadn’t been touched some of the cereal had inflated from the milk.

“Bug?” His voice, calm and collected echoed out into the quiet flat. Finally prying his eyes away from the alarming sight he had just seen, he was stumped. Everything else in the living room and kitchen was exactly as it should have been.

Maybe you were running late this morning and didn’t realize until after you had made your breakfast. Yes, of course! That’s exactly what it was.

Peeking into your bedroom, his heart rate decreased, a sense of relief and ease settling over him at the entirely bogus reasoning he had used to calm himself down. Until the most unusual sight of all was spotted.

Your phone sitting soundly on your nightstand, still connected to the charger. His hand rubbed at his closed eyes, trying to will his breathing to return to a normal rate. Tapping the screen, it lit up with dozens of texts. Some from Peter, some from coworkers, a few missed calls from work.

Never would you ever forget your phone. Never would you ever not put the cereal back in its place. Something was wrong.

His trembling hands removed his own phone from his pocket, before entirely losing any semblance of sanity, he dialed your boss’s number. It picked up on the third ring and Peter did his best to sound as normal as he could.

“Hey, Guy! It’s Peter Parker,” he was instantly cut off by his chipper voice on the other end. “Peter! How the heck are you?” He sighed, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Great, great. I just have a quick question for you,” as Peter asked if you had made it into work today, Guy responded fast.

“No, actually she didn’t today or yesterday. Didn’t even call. It’s not like her at all. I think a few of her team members tried texting her and didn’t hear from her either. Everything okay?” It was the worst thing he could have been told at that moment.

Clearing his throat, he tried to remain calm. “Mhm, yeah, yes. She’s just, uh, very sick. It might be a few days before she’s well enough to get back to the office. I didn’t call earlier because I wasn’t sure if she had or not.”

Guy’s laugh of relief was palpable. “Whew, thank goodness! Okay, well tell her to rest up and we’ll see her when she’s all better.” Thanking him and quickly ending the call, Peter tore your apartment upside down.

Any clues he could think of, any sign of forced entry, anything at all. But there was nothing. It was all still in the pristine condition it had been left in. Not a single thing out of the ordinary despite the two big red flags. Even going through every app on your phone, just in case, but it was fruitless.

Alarm bells were chiming in his head, he knew something was wrong. He knew you were in some sort of danger. He collapsed on your couch, wracking his brain for anything that could have given him something to work with.

Then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye. A small piece of white paper stuck to the tongue of a running shoe you never wore. Turned on its side. He couldn’t remember if he had knocked it over during his rushed search of your apartment, but as he picked it up, his blood turned to ice.

Taped to the shoe were the letters he dreaded seeing. Had been haunting him in his sleep for weeks. When he could sleep that was. Unlike the others, it was almost a clue as to where to go next. His eyes quickly saw the time and knew they were going to strike again soon. Far too soon.

One step forward, three steps back, find her quick before she’s the next attack

It was an anger unlike anything he had ever felt before. Not when his parents had died, not when uncle Ben died, it was so overpowering, Peter truly didn’t know how to control it. Darting out of your window, knowing he was on limited time, he began his search.

A near pointless search. A pill that was hard to swallow. Knowing the chances of actually finding you were so slim. He had the list in the back of his mind, places he had scouted previously that he knew they had used at one point or another.

That was the only thing he could think to do. Which is exactly what he did. Searching one by one individually, spending no more than thirty seconds to one minute at each location before going down the list. Did he destroy some of those places during his searches? Absolutely.

He only grew angrier with each location he arrived at that you weren’t in. His hope was running out. Knowing he was at the last two possible places you could be at that he knew about. It was an abandoned warehouse by the river. The first place he had ever tracked them to, but it was far too late when he made his discovery. They had been out of there for over a week by the time he found it.

They were always just a few steps ahead of him and it drove him mad. His masked face searched the premises from what he could see. Through one of the partly shattered windows, there appeared to be a figure on the far end of the building.

A single light shining on them, their back facing where Peter stood. Sitting in a chair, only a wisp of a shadow, no identifying features to be made out. Assuming it was going to be a fight he was about to step into, Peter broke the remainder of the window and launched himself in.

Eerily silent. No noise in the entire building apart from the howling wind outside. It was beginning to become mid-fall in the city and it was always your favorite time of year. No one was enjoying the crisp autumn air that evening.

It was unbearably stuffy in there. No fresh air had swept through the place in years. The stale scents made that abundantly clear. Peter hesitantly approached the figure, the lighting just so he couldn’t make anything out until only a few hundred yards away.

The minute he saw the tied hands behind the back of the chair, his heart soared. “Bu-bug!” His voice shouted, relief flowing off of him in waves, but they came crashing down just as fast.

He wasn’t even sure if it was you. Incredibly deformed from obvious beatings, your face was swollen, bruised, and bloody like he had never seen before. The zip tie around your wrists had cut into the skin, pieces of flesh hanging from it.

As he looked down, the sticky floor was a deep crimson, continuing to pool from your countless open wounds. No shoes were on your feet, they too were cut and dangling from your seated position, totally limp.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was in your mouth as a makeshift gag, but whatever it was had been there so long, your skin was raw and bruised around it. It was the first thing he removed and as he did, your chipped teeth entered his view.

A blanket was draped over you that was covered in things Peter did not even want to begin to imagine. It was the next thing he went to remove, but he halted the moment it was off your body.

There, stapled to your bare chest, was his next note. The same haunting letters, covered in either your own or someone else’s blood. Based on the missing fingernails, he assumed it was a fight you had given which made him silently pray it was someone else’s, yours already spilled too much.

It took him a second longer than he realized to see that your toes were mainly all facing the wrong way. Your arms bruised from newly broken bones, legs in the same condition.

His trembling voice was the first thing you heard as he cut the tie from your hands, whimpers and choked cries trying to escape your hoarse throat. Immediately going limp, Peter caught you. Your body was convulsing in ways he had never seen, unable to open your eyes and see that Peter had found you.

His tears made heavy tracts on his sweat riddled skin. His gloved hands smoothed over the inflamed sections of your face. “I’m-I’m here bug, I got you. I found you, baby. I got you, okay? It’s okay now, baby.” Despite knowing how difficult and incredibly painful his next actions were going to be, he had to get you out of there.

Medical attention was the only way you were going to be able to survive. That meant Peter was going to have to carry you to the hospital. No possibility of emergency services being able to get to you before it was too late.

He was right. Had he waited for emergency services you would have died. You had been in the hospital for three weeks now. Finally in a state where you were fully conscious, despite the pain that never subsided, you were doing better than everyone thought.

It was unclear how long you had been in their “care” before Peter had found you. Based on the little memory you had from the snatching, it was assumed you had been with them for at least forty-eight hours, possibly more.

Peter hadn’t left your side since. Growing tired of hearing the nurses and doctors praise Spider-Man for having found you and saving you when he did. Hardly. He had hardly saved you.

In fact, this was his fault. It was the conclusion he had made. His careless and reckless behaviors had led them straight to you. He hadn’t spoken to you in a week and look what they had done. They thought they had killed you. There hadn’t been another attack yet. It meant nothing though.

No, the note left for him said otherwise. You’ve made it three steps back, how long until the grand final act?

Peter was frightening you. Since you had been awake and aware of what was happening, he had hardly spoken to you. The deep purple bags under his eyes were only growing worse, skin a sickly gray you had never witnessed in a human before, face hollowing out from lack of rest and food.

All he did was write in his notebook.

Curled up in a chair, he stared at the pages for hours on end. Occasionally writing and scribbling in it. His eyes never rested, constantly darting around the pages. It had been weeks of this. Total silence from him, not sure how to talk to him when he was like…this.

It was another late night in the hospital, having drifted in and out of painful sleep all day. Based on the lack of staff and visitors present, you assumed it was the middle of the night. The hospital floor just outside your door was quiet. An easy night for the staff, you thought.

Trying to figure out how to eat a pudding cup, one of the only things you could keep down, was your current task at hand. The tv playing with hardly any sound, it being the only main light in there, Peter silently re-reading whatever was in that book. That was the current mood of your room.

Eating was difficult. Only having three working fingers on your non-dominant hand, luckily one being your thumb, you struggled to pick up the spoon, also knowing you couldn’t move your arm to bring the spoon to you or bend over to get closer to consume anything. Just trying to move to secure the spoon in your mangled fingers had you on the verge of tears, losing your breath along the way.

You could do nothing without help. Not wanting to ask Peter for any assistance because of how poor his mood was. That was where you two currently sat with one another. Scared to speak to him more than absolutely necessary. Hardly speaking since being here.

His eyes briefly glanced at you before realizing what you were trying to do, throwing his notebook onto the side table. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you even trying to do, bug?” His voice was soft, a slight laugh in his voice, exhaustion evident with each word spoken. Taking the spoon from your hand, he pulled his chair closer to the bed, beginning to bring it to your lips.

It was silent until your eyes darted back at the book, deciding to take a leap. “Whatcha writing?” Your cracked, gravelly, and weak voice echoed through the silent room.

It made him want to revert to a blind rage attack. Your voice that was usually so full of life and excitement. Strong and loud that could command an entire room with only a few words. Now, he could hardly hear you, understand you, look at you. Jaw clenching at the question, his teeth grinded together.

When he closed his eyes, he saw visions of you beaten in that warehouse, left for dead. The immense pain you had been suffering through ever since then. Scars that would never fade, both physically and mentally meant he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Not until he found them.

Your face was doing better, still black and blue, but healing. Able to open your eyes and look at him despite the popped blood vessels. Bandages littered every inch of your skin, wrists tightly wrapped with special medicine for the skin loss.

“Notes,” he murmured, eyes darkening as you asked your question, obviously not wanting to speak about it more. Changing the topic as your pudding came to an end, his hand brushed through your hair, knuckles lightly brushing against your cheek. “What do you need? Anything?”

It was silly. A simple question to see if you really did need anything. It didn’t stop the tears from hurriedly falling down your face. “Yo-you, Peter. I need you. I don’t know where you’ve been, but it hasn’t been here with me. I feel like I’m healing on my own. Like you’re not even here. You sit in that chair, staring at that notebook for days on end. You’ve hardly looked at me, spoken to me, listened to me. Please, just come back to me. Please, Pete.” It was borderline begging, but months of pent up frustration had broken the dam.

Peter’s heart continued to crack with each additional word you said. Realization of what he was doing to you, slamming into him all at once. He nodded, chin resting on one of the side rails, sniffling himself. “I’m here, bug. Whatever you need. I’m so sorry.”

Your only non-fully broken hand you extended towards him, wincing in pain from the movement. Scared to touch you, he only placed your hand back down, removing the side rail to get as close as possible to you.

The rest of the night, you two sat chatting ,watching whatever movies you wanted. It was a glimpse at the man you had seemingly lost all those months ago. Peter was back.

You were released from the hospital just shy of a week later. Peter’s plan to nurse you back to health was his moving in with you. While it was just supposed to be while you recovered, you two ended up enjoying it so much, he was now permanently living there.

It felt like your relationship was shooting by leaps and bounds, spending time together like you had never experienced before. Him being there when you went to bed at night and his face being the first thing you spotted when your eyes opened was a treat you didn’t know you needed.

Feeling content, cared for, respected, and loved like never before. Peter admitted, with your confession to him in the hospital about how distant he had become, tore him apart. He had never seen you moved to tears in such a way, especially over him.

He didn’t realize how deep he had been sucked in until that moment. From then on, Peter swore to keep his other persona on the sidelines for a bit whilst you healed and needed him. Did that mean he was going to stop being Spider-Man in the meantime?

Of course not. It meant that side of him was reserved for the span of time from when you fell asleep to about forty minutes before you would wake up in the morning. Absolutely clueless as to the fact that he had been out all night.

Hunting. Stalking. Tracking.

It was the first night in which you didn’t need him to help lay you down in bed. Peter knew his sleep schedule was already fucked, each time his eyes would drift shut all he could see was you strapped to that chair, nearing death.

And the fact that he hadn’t caught them.

Keeping him up at night, when he could sleep it was plagued by nightmares. Peter knew that there was no opportunity for him to rest while these scumbags were still wandering the streets, looking for another prey to select for their sick games.

Which is why he was doing this without you knowing. Not wanting to worry you and cause you further stress. No, Peter could do this. Would do this. Had to do this. He had made amazing moves. Truly spectacular given the place he had been stuck in before.

They had no idea he had found them, watched their every move, plotted what he was going to do to them. Honestly, when he first spotted one of the three he had discovered had been involved in your…incident, it took every ounce of strength he had to not murder the man right then.

He had to remind himself that all he had to do was provide some patience and the reward would be unlike anything he imagined. And imagine he did.

It was what plagued his thoughts every single day as he watched you hobble around such short distances that only offered pain and tiredness from. His eyes would drift over your still bruised skin as he helped you bathe and it was like witnessing it all over again.

Your hand would tip his chin up, forcing him to lock eyes with you. It was nearly impossible to not see the sadness and hurt in his eyes. Disappointed in himself for letting this happen to you. It didn’t matter because what had happened was now in the past and all you were looking forward to was healing.

The emotional and traumatic scars left on you were not easy to mask. Perhaps that was another reason why Peter was so furious as well. If he moved too quickly behind you, you jumped and a small scream would follow. Trembling for upwards of an hour before settling down. Peter would have to tell you small things to gather your thoughts.

Feel my hand? I`m right here, bug. Here, I want you to use the remote and put on whatever you want. You feel the couch under you? You’re home, baby. You’re safe.

If it weren’t for Peter, you weren’t sure what you would do. He was your rock, your other half, offering reason for unreasonable thoughts. He was your Peter.

The rain was pattering against the window, a sort of white noise you weren’t expecting tonight, but were grateful for it nonetheless. It helped you drift off to a dreamless sleep, exhaustion from trying to do some basic things today taking too much out of you.

Peter was already out of the house before he knew you were soundly asleep. He couldn’t risk being late. Tonight was the night.

Weeks of following them, understanding and breaking their odd patterns, he watched as they went according to plan perfectly. A construction sight for a new high rise. This was their new rendezvous sight for the next attack.

There wouldn’t be another attack.

Counting silently in his head, as he saw a flicker of a small light near the top floor, his count was perfect. They entered exactly on schedule. Crawling down the side of the building and using the thunderstorm to his advantage, he shattered a window a few floors up.

There was no other way that he knew of other than how they had entered and that was far too risky as they had all other doors blocked. As he slowly descended the staircase to scout the floor and determine which room they were in, his hair stood on end as a voice hit his ear.

Three of them. All there. The monsters who were behind your attack. Simply waiting for him.

Except, they didn’t know they were waiting for him. No, tonight was a setup night. Preparation for the coming days of their next plan. Peter had determined fairly early on it was not going to be their final act like they had claimed.

The door was kept slightly ajar with a cinder block, no handles on them yet meaning if it closed, there was no way out for them. Which was their plan for their next victim. Leave the poor soul trapped here with no means of getting out alive.

Peter’s skin was crawling, every instinct shouting at him to just do it. End them now. It would be so easy. He shook off those thoughts, knowing his plan was the correct one.

He dropped to the floor behind them, one of them catching him out of the corner of their eye, a smirk taking over his face. “Spidey boy finally found us, boss.” The thick accent made him hard to understand. Peter kept silent. Very silent.

The other two turned to face him, matching looks on their hideous faces. “How’s your girl? You otta be more careful next time or she could get seriously hurt.” A chuckle escaped them. Peter still didn’t move, watching them from a few paces away.

Quickly deciding they weren’t a fan of the silent treatment, the largest man in the center who Peter knew to be their ringleader drew his gun. In the blink of an eye, web flew towards the gunman, pinning the weapon to the wall behind him.

“Come on now, you didn’t think I knew what you have on you? Just like how I know tweedledee over here is about to throw a knife at me,” Peter ducked out of the way as the blade hurdled towards him. “Now how about we all play nice and introduce ourselves?”

An over exaggerated sigh escaped Peter’s lips as the three men darted towards him, but he acted quickly, webbing them to the surrounding walls, letting one approach him to fight him. “Guess not. Okay, then. I guess I’ll be the one making the rules tonight then.”

Peter grabbed the three chairs from one of the corners of the room before leisurely strolling towards the door and pushing the cinder block from the opening. He whistled a made up tune as he removed them one by one, webbing them to the seats to the point of them not being able to move an inch.

“You know, it’s such a shame sometimes that I wear this mask because I would love you guys to see how big of a smile I have right now. Scouts honor, I am overjoyed that we finally get to do this!” He took his own seat directly across from them.

His head scanned them before pointing at the one on the right. “Let’s start with you bumblebee. What’s your name?” His black and yellow striped shirt was what appointed him his nickname. “You think we’re going to talk? I have nothing to say.”

Peter nodded at his words before looking at the other two. “Same goes for you two then, I assume?” When they didn’t respond, instead only seeing spit hurl towards him, he dropped his head, shaking it. “Such a shame. Alright, last chance. Just give me a name.”

Silence.

A shrug. “It brings me no joy to resort to this, fellas. I’m truly not a violent person. I pride myself on being as gentle as I can be. " He began pacing around, his chair discarded behind him now. “Igor, Viktor, Sasha.” He pointed at each of them individually as he divulged their names.

He gave himself a small satisfactory pump into the air at his success. He could tell he was correct by the little one on the lefts eyes growing slightly wider. It was just the start. As Peter continued on, he got tiny tidbits of information. Only when he presented to them what he knew. Which at this point was everything.

Names, date of births, addresses, spouses, children, education records, dental records, you name it, Peter had it. It still wasn’t enough to get them talking like how he wanted. Instead, Peter fell into the second part of his plan earlier than he had expected.

With seven toes, five fingers, three teeth, many beatings, and an ear, they were beginning to squeal. The leader, Igor, was suspended from the ceiling by his bound hands submerged in webbing. He was entirely nude, body cut up in ways that had blood spilling from him ferociously.

Viktor was webbed entirely to the floor, his entire body covered in fluid despite only one singular nostril. He was the one who cracked first which Peter expected after his reaction to his grandmothers home address in his tiny village in his home country. It was quickly discovered that he was mainly an action man, simply doing what he was told, not a mastermind of any sort.

The other one, Sasha, was who most of the beatings had gone towards once Viktor had divulged it was him who had mainly been the culprit in your beating. Webbed to the wall with no chance of escape, Peter mimicked all the injuries you had sustained on him and then some. Just missing a few fingers and toes now as well.

As the night drew to a close, Peter admired the work he had done. He wiped his gloved hands in a motion to signify he was wrapping up. They were hardly conscious enough at this point to understand what was happening to them. To understand the fate they had drawn themselves to.

There was just one final thing he needed to do. Grabbing the needle and thread he brought with him for tonight and tonight only, he walked slowly towards the nude man. “Did you know that I sew all of my suits? Crazy right! How in the world does he have the time to do this, you might ask. It’s a valid question, but you know what, if I took it to lets say a seamstress, I would be unbelievably broke. Not to mention, how does one drop off the Spider-Man suit without drawing suspicion. First world problems, am I right?”

The man didn’t respond, but as Peter pierced the needle into his skin, his yelp rang in Peter’s ears. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t be moving around now, you’ll make my stitches go all out of wack here.” Peter took his time, but as he finished he admired the handy work.

Sewn into the man chest was a letter of his own. Crafted just for them. A message curated specifically for their enjoyment.

“How time flies, boys. Suns coming up here shortly. Time for me to be heading out.” He smashed a window, ready to crawl out, but he remembered one final thing he needed to do. Walking back over to Igor, he pulled his head back by the hair on his scalp, making him look into the bug eyed mask.

The whimper that fell from the grown man was laughable to Peter. “If you or your dogs come near anyone I love again, our next visit will not be as enjoyable as this one. If you get out of here, I mean.” Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as Peter released his head to fall back into its resting position.

“See you later, guys! Make better choices!” He called out behind himself as he crawled out the window, webbing it shut behind him before making his way home to you.

It was the first time in months that Peter felt like he could breathe. Taking in the fresh morning air, just minutes before the sun began to peak on the horizon, signaling the arrival of a new day. His lungs expanded with the deep breath of air, wanting to sob at the weight removed from his shoulders.

As he made his way back into the apartment, he spotted you in bed. Still curled up in the comforter, sound asleep, none the wiser of his whereabouts the night before. The brusing getting less and less noticeable by the day.

When he crawled into bed next to you, he refused to fall asleep, not tired in the least. No, instead as the sun began to shine through the curtains, he watched you. Watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, grateful you were taking those breaths.

Because Peter knew that it wasn’t long ago where those breaths weren’t guaranteed. Now, he counted each one, to make sure you were okay. Of course you were okay now. Peter just needed to make sure.

It wasn’t too long after when you began stirring, eyes blinking open to see his golden eyes staring down at you with the softest gaze Peter had ever had. “Morning,” you mumbled, he whispered it back to you.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, to which you nodded, asking him the same. “Of course I did.” You smiled, getting up and ready to start your day.

You just needed to pretended you didn’t see the bruises adorning his knuckles. “What’s for breakfast?”

#ficthots #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #andrewgarfield!spiderman #andrewgarfield!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #peter parker andrew garfield #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction

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mochatune · 5 months

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Hey! So I've fixated on a vague headcannon of a Y/N with dissociative identity disorder. They're a system with different alters, and each feels differently about Peter (each could be a reference to the different routes in the game - the romantic route, the friendship route, the abusive route, etc.) And well, Peter loves all of you - so he tries to get every single alter to fall for him. I love your HCs, could you write a Peter x Y/N with DID one?

Hey so sorry about this being as late as it is, I’m just now getting back on tumblr. Anyone else with an ask i promise it’s a priority.

In advance I have no real idea on how DID really is and am going off what I’ve been told, if this comes off as offensive then I apologize.

—

Peter x darling with DID

—

- honestly he wouldn’t pick up on it at all in the beginning, which is weird considering his favorite hobby is literally stalking you. He knew you took some sort of medication but upon further snooping he found it was Prozac, a common depression med.

- when you keep changing how you feel about him it gets him angry, he genuinely thinks you’re just giving him mixed signals. This could lead him on to take you even faster than originally in the game.

- you go from calling him asking when you guys are meeting up again to telling him to stay the fuck away from you and blocking his number. He doesn’t appreciate the inconsistency, don’t be surprised when he’s banging at your door screaming demanding an explanation. He’s patient but enough of this will start to piss him off and leave him feeling paranoid.

- it’s not until you both are having a at home date when he realizes what’s happening here, the switch is gradual and almost seemless but as your biggest fan he picks it up.

- one second your cuddling him and now you’re just staring at him with this gross look in your eyes.

- after this incident it’s clear he doesn’t know as much as he thought he did about you. if you felt watched before then you definitely did now, not only is he keeping a strict eye on you trying to figure out what’s going on with you but he’s also snooping through your place a lot more consistently.

- he eventually finds your hospital records in a dusty old box and it all starts to click, of course you were acting so ‘weird’.

- this determines him further to win the love over every ‘you’, though don’t be surprised if you find this also motivates him to take you faster. Now that he has an actual reason to believe you need him he won’t release his grip.

- it starts with him coming over more often and Texting you more, being more attentive basically. He also starts noticing the switches more.

- as soon as he found out about your diagnosis he did so much research, like an insane amount. Knows pretty much the ins and outs of what DID is.

- when you switch it’s like he switches, more so switching his approach in how he talks to you.

- when you’re lovey he doesn’t do much, he likes this side of you best and is ultimately determined to get all these sides of you to be like that with him.

- when you’re angry or more so scared of him he gives you space and comforts you as much as possible, it’s a little antagonizing to admit but he treats you like a child when you get like this.

- it’s sort of a running game, this personality is incredibly stubborn and doesn’t want anything to do with him. His best bet is to more gently force himself on you until you can eventually tolerate his presence and hopefully soon his love.

- all in all he just becomes more attentive. There’s not much to say considering he’s not as mentally there either.

- you end up kidnapped in his home much earlier than expected from even himself where he basically locks you inside and treats you like a helpless animal.

- its fucked up but he drugs you into being complacent when you switch and you start freaking out about the current situation.

- if the drugging doesn’t work then it’s the constant manipulation that does, you’re other personality will never really love him but it is numb to his touch at this point.

- he’s really just putting a bandaid over a bullet wound with the way he’s treating you.

- when you behave he’s all over you and treating you like a goddess but when you have these freak outs he just doesn’t know what to do, despite being so well versed in your disorder he’s still a very toxic person who wants all of you.

- he won’t even take you to therapy because of how possessive he is, he expects you to treat him as your therapist and you can only imagine how that would blow over.

- you’re always ensured your meds and a warm body to stay next to but that’s about as much as you get because Peter is not as emotionally available as he makes you believe he is.

—

#yandere #yb your boyfriend #yb game #yb peter #peter your boyfriend #your boyfriend game #your boyfriend visual novel #your boyfriend x reader #your boyfriend visual game #your boyfriend

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princeescaluswords · 3 months

Text

Well, Then ... They Had a Reason

I read an interesting post about how fandom racism never really goes away. It has burrowed into heart of fandom like a canker in a rose. I can't disagree.

Almost thirteen years ago, near the end of the fourth episode of the first season of Teen Wolf, an antagonist in the first season, Derek Hale, led the lead protagonist, Scott McCall into a hospital room in order to show him his comatose uncle as a reason why Scott should not trust his girlfriend or his girlfriend's family. Here is the conversation.

Scott: So - What makes you so sure that they set the fire? Derek: 'Cause they're the only ones that knew about us. Scott: Well, then - They had a reason. Derek: Like what? You tell me what justifies this. They say they'll only kill an adult, and only with absolute proof, but there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that fire. This is what they do. And it's what Allison will do.

Now, of course, anyone with a shred of empathy for the lead protagonist will realize that what he's trying to do there is look for a reason that his girlfriend's family won't murder him for just being a werewolf. However, even as recently as this month -- March of 2024 -- fandom has used that line as a reason to despise the lead protagonist. They reinterpret it as Scott giving approval for what the Argents did and use that to justify their dislike. The line is insensitive, but if a viewer was paying attention at all to the remainder of the first four episodes, they would understand that Scott's line doesn't come out of the blue.

In the first sixteen days (according to @adrianfridge 's excellent reconstruction of the first season's chronology) portrayed in the series, Scott has directly experienced these events.

A werewolf has killed Laura Hale, Derek's sister, in order to gain the power to make more werewolves. (Ironically, the perpetrator is Uncle Peter, pretending to be comatose in this very scene.)

Peter used the power to turn Scott into a werewolf against his will. While Scott's asthma is gone, he must experience drastically-increased aggression and outright body horror, including an attempt to kill his best friend.

Derek has stalked Scott rather than talking to him like a normal human being.

Derek pretended to be Scott's friend to Allison in order to get Allison's jacket and lure Scott out into the woods.

Peter used the alpha-beta bond to cause Scott to sleepwalk into the woods and then chased him.

Derek broke into Scott's house, attacked him, and threatened to kill him if Scott didn't do as he says.

Scott discovered that Derek had buried half the body of a murder victim (not yet revealed to Scott as Derek's sister) in the side yard of his burned-down family home.

Peter once again used the alpha-beta bond to cause Scott to sleepwalk in an attempt to force Scott to help him murder Scott's old bus driver.

Derek never denied being the person who lured Scott into the woods because Derek was using Scott as bait for Peter.

When Scott confronted Derek about the death of Garrison Myers, Derek threw him down the stairs and then proceeded to beat the shit out of him. Only afterwards did Derek tell Scott about the presence of the alpha who really murdered Laura Hale.

The same episode in which Scott uttered the above line which is the title of this post, Derek explained the rationale behind the alpha's actions. "Then think about this. The Alpha called you out against your will. He's gonna do it again. Next time you either kill with him or you get killed." The. Same. Episode.

That list above is the entirety of Scott McCall's experience with werewolves up to this point: brutality, violence, violation, and murder. In the span of sixteen days, Scott had been assaulted three times, mentally violated three times, and physically transformed into a creature he hadn't even know was real seventeen days before. All of this was done by werewolves to him without provocation.

Yes, "Then they had a reason" was insensitive, but it was clearly motivated by the actions of werewolves themselves not out of any wickedness that is part of Scott's nature. And yet, this fandom never seems to tire of using that phrase to justify Scott's further physical and mental violation by Derek and Peter. In fact, according to many posters, this sentence alone is enough to make them dislike Scott. And yet ...

In the same episode, Stiles Stilinksi, fandom's beloved white-boy bicycle, tells Derek Hale, poisoned and close to death, that he "could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead." But that's not enough for them to dislike Stiles. Oh, no!

In the same episode, Scott McCall risks both his relationship with Allison Argent and his own life stealing the bullet Derek needs to survive, but the fandom could care less. It earns Scott no credit with them. It's expected.

Derek can stalk, manipulate, beat, and lie to Scott, and the fandom will fall all over themselves to explain it away as trauma caused by Laura's death and the Hale Fire. Derek sold Scott out to his uncle, and they love him.

Peter can violate, mutilate, threaten Scott's mother, threaten his girlfriend, and try to force him to murder his friends, and the fandom explains it away by saying he was out of his mind.

Stiles can accuse Derek of killing his sister out of jealousy, have to be threatened into helping Derek survive, can firebomb Peter, and can plot to leave Derek in the hands of the Argent, but he's loved to the point of distraction.

Yet, Scott McCall is a terrible person because in the face of unrelenting violence visited upon him directly by werewolves, he thinks that maybe the werewolf hunters had a reason to hunt werewolves.

The worst part of this is that the show went on for 96 episodes after Magic Bullet (1x04) and managed to develop Scott and Derek's relationship into a real brotherly bond. It managed to charter the development of Scott from a teenage boy who didn't even think monsters were real to a leader who was willing to give up his future to save werewolves and other supernatural creatures. But you see, they have their reasons for disliking Scott, such as him saying a cruel and insensitive thing to Derek "Maybe You Will Survive" Hale in front of Peter "I Got Better" Hale, and they like Stiles "Won't you think of letting him die, for me?" Stilinski at the same exact time. They must have had a reason.

BUT IT'S NOT RACISM.

#scott mccall #stiles stilinski #peter hale #derek hale #magic bullet #tw 1x04 #fandom racism #teen wolf fandom racism #fandom problems #scott mccall defense squad

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witchthewriter · 1 year

Note

what type of muggle music/bands/artists do you think that the trio era characters + the marauders would listen to? sorry if this seems like a weird question..

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐏 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

Ooh, another music question! I only did the Golden Trio and The Marauders minus Peter, lemme know if you want anyone else 🌷🌿🌻

a/n: I'm not taking time into consideration...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

・The Marauders love Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees (fun fact, my Pa lived on the same street as them when he was a kid and they would play together)

・The Marauders would so reenact the scene from Mamma Mia when Donna is crying in the bathroom and Chiquitita comes on

・The Golden Trio all love Lizzo. Harry loves her confidence, Ron loves her charisma and is attracted to her and Hermione loves how uplifting her songs can be

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲

・Is a lot more well-versed in muggle music

・So when he shows Ron all the different types of muggle music, he understands a glimpse of what everyone felt when they were showing Harry the magical world.

・Headcanon that Harry somehow saves up his money to buy a walkman (one of those things that you put cd's in to listen to it) or a small portal radio or takes one of Dudley's many birthday presents. Anway, it's a way for Harry to listen to music. He is a maladaptive daydreamer (like us!!!) and would sneak off from the Dudley's house to lay down in the grass and have his headphones on, getting lost in music

・He has a broad range of musical taste

・From classical, to beautiful movie scores, to old music to new.

・I do think that Harry would be a bit of a metal head though, and he would love Korn, Rob Zombie, and Godsmack.

・Feels a personal connect to the song Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin. It's how he felt during the height of Voldemort's power.

・Underground !!! By Cody Fry !!! Has amazing daydreams about the song!!!

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞

・Like Harry, she knows muggle music a lot better than the others

・Might be a bit of a shock, but she loves Viking-esque music. Her favourite bands are Folknery and Dakha Brakha. She has gets this surge of power whenever their songs play. As if she can feel the magic running through her veins

・Hermione loves music that moves her. That has a bit of umph - so I think she would like the Alabama Shakes, specifically their album Sound & Colour

・Secretly loves Cardi B's songs (YEAH IT MIGHT BE A REACH BUT C'MON, she'd totally be in her room studying to her classical music when out of the blue Cardi comes on and Hermione is like *... okay, I can dig it.*)

𝐑𝐨𝐧

・Unironically loves the Black Eyed Peas

・And goes hard for Rasputin by Boney M.

・Would make fun of Hermione for liking the Viking/Scandinavian type of music. But Hermione only needs to give him a death glare and he apologises ...

・THE WEASLEY'S WOULD BE A DISNEY SINGING FAMILY. Harry would show them all the classics (I mean, I doubt that the Dursley's let him watch much tv. But maybe they just sat Harry in front of the tv for most of his childhood???) The Weasley's reference the movies to each other all the time, and Harry feels a sense of pride because he's shown them something from his world

・Would follow a lot of the popular trends and have pride in knowing the words to all the popular songs.

・Fred & George walked in on Ron White Girl Dancing to Stargirl Interlude by Lana Del Rey once

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

・Bad Reputation by Joan Jett

・I Was Made For Lovin' You by KISS

・Likes a lot of the classics

・Holding Out For A Hero!!! Would absolutely belt it in class and jump up on the tables thinking McGonnagal wasn't in class:

"That was quite the performance, Potter. Now sit down. And I'll be seeing you every night for a week's detention."

・Would definitely sing ABBA's When I Kissed the Teacher for McGonnagal, and it would make her blush but also another week of detention (he got on the table again)

𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬

・Loves belting out I'd Rather Go Blind by Etta James. It gets him in his feels.

・Really fell in love with the 60s and 70s era of music. Some of his favourite singers are Billie Holiday, Janis Joplin and Nina Simone

・You Know I'm No Good by Amy Winehouse! He'd become obsessed with her. He feels truly connected to her music because of how alone he feels in the world

・Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood by Nina Simone would bring him to tears the first few times he listens to it

・Music was a way for Sirius to escape into his own world while at the Black household

・Created playlists for the people he cares about. They're songs that 1. he thinks they'll like 2. songs that remind him of them 3. songs that represent them

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬

・Loves David Bowie!!! Definitely would want to dress up as him for Halloween (can you imagine a little marauder halloween party??)

・HOZIER HOZIER HOZIER HOZIER. Oh my god, some of his favourites would be Cherry Wine and Sunlight. The soul, the guttural... umph that Hozier has with all of his songs. It moves Remus every time. The lyrics would mean so much to him.

・His taste in music is songs that make him feel connected to the artist or what the message of the song is

・Always has the radio on at home, while being a professor at Hogwarts etc

#harry potter headcanons #anon asks #witchthewriter #harry potter preferences #hermione granger #hermione granger headcanons #ron weasley #ron weasley headcanons #sirius black #sirius black headcanons #james potter #james potter headcanons #marauder headcanons #golden trio headcanons #remus lupin headcanons #remus lupin #witch the writer preferences

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ketrindoll · 2 years

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Why we should “quarantine” russian culture

Long read, but good if you want actual arguments.

Ever since the start of the Ukrainian war, there has been a lot of re-evaluation of our relationship with “the great russian culture.” Dostoyevsky and Tolstoi, Tschaikovsky, etc. Unfortunately, a lot of russians used that as an excuse as to why we should look away from Bucha and Irpin and just focus on the pretty things. Look, over there, Ana Netrebko!

The recent re-naming of the “Russian Drama Theatre” in Vilnius to “Old Vilnius Theatre” also left many russians crying about “destroyed culture,” with notable theatre director Georgyi Yefremov calling the decision “infantile, borderline insane.” He wondered why to suddenly change the original name that most people have grown accustomed to. To that, notable Lithuanian author Kristina Sabaliauskaite - an art and Vilnius historian - educated him on the theatre’s real history.

That it used to be called Pohulanka theatre, and the building of it was commissioned by the local Polish community with the funds raised by Vilnius citizens themselves. Many famous Polish and local actors performed in it. Until the Soviets came in the 1940s, placed the performers in NKVD (KGB) prisons, tortured some of them, and finally sent them to Siberia, where many of them died. That’s how the Pohulanka theatre got its russian name. Afterward, it was known as the russification epicenter, with various sub-par performers from the Soviet Union arriving to give local russian colonists a show. But according to russia, they “gave” us, a “small, uneducated, uncultured” country, a taste of true culture.

Well, quoting Sabaliauskaite: This imaginary, but unsubstantiated, morbid and complex "Russian cultural superiority" is nothing new. It has characterised Russian-Lithuanian relations since the end of the 18th century and the era of the partitions of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Let me remind you: at that time, russia occupied the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, a country which, by all objective criteria, had a much older and more developed culture: operas, theatres, European literary and scientific bestsellers, and, most importantly, a university a few hundred years before Russia. Despite this, the Russians were already trying to explain about the "bringing of culture" to Lithuania. Maybe they will try to explain that the russians brought professional theatre to Lithuania? Let me remind you: in Vilnius, as early as 1636, royal baroque operas were being staged and Italians were touring, while in Russia, for 130 years (until 1766), the only "theatres" (apart from the amateur home productions organised by Peter the Great's sister, Natalia) were the somersaults of the skomorokhs and the balagans in the marketplaces.

And here is the reason why we should put russian culture on hold: a very simple Russian proverb: на силу мил не будешь, can’t force love (can’t be dear to someone through force). Ironically, russians very rarely remember this proverb themselves. You do not win respect and love by angrily stomping your feet and calling others madmen and infants. Respect and love are earned through good deeds. Respect and love are either there or they are not. When it is there, and without feet tapping or soldiers armed with machine guns threatening us, we pay our respects with names: that is how Sugihara Square, Sakharov Square on Liberty Avenue, and the Street of the Heroes of Ukraine came about in Vilnius.

In the current climate of events, many people do not feel love for russia - because we are not suffering from Stockholm syndrome, we are not slaves, we are healthy and free people. It is therefore natural that, even with the best of intentions and the most sober mind, russian culture now often produces an involuntary reaction of rejection. Is it any wonder that we do not want to see Polunin on stage with a tattoo of Putin on his chest, or listen to Netrebko and Gergiev? That we find them repulsive? That we do not want to read russian literature at the moment? It is a reaction of self-preservation and a sign of a desire to protect one's mental health.

People are not masochists, and that is why many now want to keep Russian culture not banned or "cancelled", but simply in "mental quarantine" until this terrible, beastly, inhuman, bloody, Ukrainian-killing, Ukrainian-abusing, Ukrainian-attacking, russian disease passes. I sincerely hope that the quarantine of self-defence will one day no longer be necessary. But obviously not yet... Sviatlana Aleksievich during her visit in Vilnius said: "But after Bucha, after Irpin, after Izium, it is no longer the same Dostoevsky, the same Tolstoy." I agree with the Nobel Prize winner: after Bucha, after Irpin, after Izium, free and thoughtful Europeans read Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy and others differently. We read their works in an attempt to find answers as to how Russia came to be the way it is. We now read them without much pleasure, rather biopsically - searching their words like cancer cells for the causes of this centuries-long national pathological tumour of Russian brutality, contempt for others, and self-loathing. We are trying to understand which Russian classics have already suffered from this disease and which have not... And Dostoyevsky, unfortunately, is full of metastases of this terrible disease, of lunatic messianism, moral masochism and hatred for other nationalities.

It is understandable why many russians today feel pain and discomfort. For them, it is painful because of the renamed theatre, but it is even more painful for Ukrainians who are being murdered, tortured, and raped by the russians. And that context is often omitted from the russian narrative. Zero empathy, zero compassion. Their own image, their own offensiveness, their own theatre - that is the most important thing. Don't be fooled, but russian pain on this scale is simply despicable. Why are so many russians so blind and, in the face of the tragedy of others, always see only themselves and their own image?

When it comes to the responsibility of the eternally "wronged" russians, it is standard russian whataboutism, pointing the finger at others, at the British Empire, at nazi Germany (which, by the way, repented after the war), at Spain. Lithuanians are certainly no saints either, and there are stains in our history which we repent for; I believe we are aware of them and we are trying to prevent them from happening again. But has there ever been a public repentance and apology from the russians for the occupations, for the deportations to Siberia? No... After all, the russians are never guilty or responsible for anything, they are so 'spiritual', so cultured, and how come nobody loves them?

Well, на силу мил не будешь. And russians need to learn that first before trying to “educate” others.

#russia #ukraine #lithuania #russian culture #russian literature #Dostoyevsky #leo tolstoy #ana netrebko

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americasass81 · 22 days

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@stargazingfangirl18 @lokislastlove OMG babes, what am I going to do with both of you. So much talent between the two of you and my god what beautiful souls both of you possess. Kind to a fault and so very welcoming, it will never matter how long I interact with you I will forever be in awe and continue to be intimated by how spectacular both of you are. I know whatever little kindness I sprinkle here is simply your influences as well as that of so many other amazing creators here. You two are just some of the light shining the way.

Now speaking of that talent:- @lokislastlove while you know I will always love anything you write, you and you alone hold the trophy for getting me to read Peter Parker fics. Oh sure, Mens Rea and Too Close For Comfort hold my heart and always will, but Initiation ? What can one say about this other than it is total perfection. Do I like Peter Parker? Not really. Why? Who can really say. But this dark delicious creature you've created? Boy oh boy sign me up. You want the heebie-jeebies, then turn off the light, click on this gem and just go with with it. Fabulous.

Then there's you @stargazingfangirl18 . Our sweet as sugar Siri where on earth did Deprivation come from? Known I think primarily for fluffy good times, I read this treat and I wonder when you took a look inside my head. I mean take the character chosen? I can't quite put my finger on it but Steve's dark side has always been easier for me to see somehow and coupled with your summary and this whole thing was a fic I should not have enjoyed. Oh but did I. I think this is what I love most about my personal approach to reading. I take chances, see where they lead and if I don't like it I simply move on. Here however, I discovered my own fear expertly brought to life and I got to experience it in a totally safe environment. Exactly what reading is supposed to give us in my humble opinion. You did that babe. What talent. Can't wait to finally dive into Pound Town and see what you've created there. I'm sure it's going to be a blast.

May both of you never forget how truly special you are and folks, go check out their masterlists and dive into endless worlds of dark and fluffy adventure. Thank you always for being so amazing.

lokislastlove masterlist

stargazingfangirl18 masterlist

#writer appreciation #writer rec #ct 2024 raffle entry

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scarlet-spider-bf · 4 months

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Gonna be tragic and sad and horny about Ben Reilly on main now. But some things just have to be said and when nobody else will do it, I shall take this one for the team. Minors dni ye be warned

tbh most of the following is just sweetly sad

This is about traumatised broken Ben after the Clone Conspiracy (shattered) and/or after Beyond (goo) (bless you if you know what I mean and have not gone insane from the knowledge, I try not to be too spoilery)

Ben Reilly headcanons (sad, fluffy, horny edition)

He loves it when you (partner, imagine yourself as Janine or someone else, whatever you like) wear his ripped cropped Scarlet Spider Hoodie. He doesn't wear it out anymore, but he can't let go of it either. It tethers him to a better time. There are memories just on the cusp of being rediscovered by him when he stares at you lying sleeping in it. Just a hint of comfort soon shadowed by pain. He grits his teeth and swallows it down like a good boy, he always tries to when you are around, he doesn't want to worry you after all.

To be honest it's kinda stinky by now but you don't seem to want to wash it, arguing it will wear out and is too precious to be lost. But not too precious to be worn to nap in since you fear he will impulsively destroy it on a particular bad day. Preserving the last anchoring scraps of the past is what you do now... but you are not even sure it's a good plan. No matter what you do he always seems to be in pain, even if he tries to hide it.

The sadness creeps into his smiles as if to punish him for being alive. He looks at you with shining eyes, full of love, but then as if a shadow passes over the moon, there's the horror. Visions of losing you, the last thing he has, the fear of your face crumbling into a black abyss that just sucks and sucks at his life force until he wonders if it's just a mirror, the chasm pulling him down to nothingness, the nothingness he is.

To pull him back you gently lay your hands on his cheeks, whispering his name over and over. Touch helps him find his way back most of the time but he often just freezes against you, malleable and defenseless. Sometimes he whispers back your name with a distant look on his face yet unable to close his wide doe eydes and back away from the rift that tears at him.

When it happens the first few times you try to shake him gently, remind him where he is, who you are, what you were about to do. He's unresponsive but touch always helps. Perhaps because the way you touch is so foreign to his body. Sure there used to be the memories of Peter, the warmth of uncle Ben's hugs, the kindness of aunt May's little kisses to his broken knees on the playground and the way Gwen used to hold his hand and brush her shoulder against his on flirtatious walks. But those are distant variables, crumbled away - and anyway he never felt it, he only observed in Peter's memory that those thing happened. They never truly happened to him. In fact his current clome body has only ever known abuse until he met you. Dr. Warrens bruising clinical groping and torturous contraptions. The fists of thugs breaking teeth loose and his own so called brother's kicks into his gut. So when you hug him gently and kiss his temple in his darkest hours, it's like rain after a drought. His body doesn't even know how to process it.

So he gets easily aroused like a damn teenager. Embarassingly intensely. He blinks free off the spell of the abyss' siren song and finds your tender cooing and petting and it just is too much to not be keening. But more is what he needs since he is not enough of about everything. Less than Peter, less than human even (that's not true of course but Dr. Warren's voice seems so sure, so scholarly when he whispers it sharply into his ear between painful shocks - or is it Maxine's voice? they are all the same to him, just pain, pain).

So when he comes back from his stupor he comes back like a freight train, crashing against you. You never wanted to take advantage of him, you really think you should talk about it all, but he doesn't want to, is sick of it. Sick of Dr. Kafkas prying, sick of having to explain anything. He just feels so bad, so broken all the time and looking at you there's a sliver of warmth he clings to like a moth to a flame. If ne needs to burn and burn bright and beg you to hug him so much it hurts, kiss so hard it turns to bites he will and he knows no shame, not anymore.

It's a way to claim this body for himself, this wretched face that hurts to look at when he crosses a mirror. No amount of hair dye can bleach Peter out of his visage and he hates how you look at him and see not only Ben but Peter. The first few times you crash together like this, like a train wreck of bodies and hands that cannot reach enough of each other, he keeps pushing your face to the side, gently but firmly, to look away while he kisses down your neck. He can't even stand how it is Peter's hands that keep touching you, so he whispers into your ear to stay where you are (please please don't run away) and wait for a moment. He returns in his scarlet suit, gloves mask and all. You wonder about it, plan to ask, but not now, you don't care. If he needs this you'll indulge him, worry about it later. (And worry you will.)

He whines when you are gentle, it's too foreign, too intense to bear, to understand. He begs you to be rougher with tiny gestures, gripping your hand and curling your fingers in his hair, nipping on your lips to make you retaliate and bite bite deep (he wants too bleed but can't ask for it, wants to be scarlet all over, dressed in it, Peter completely covered up).

He's so desperate about it, his stubbled cheeks rubbing against yours where he reluctantly pulls up the mask to kiss you (but don't look there please, don't look at Peter's plush lips, and don't listen too closely or you'll hear him moan and not Ben, Ben who's trying to sound different, prefers moaning like a girl to egg you on and mask all traces of his original to all alternatives).

You know this isn't healthy, sustaining it cannot be. But he seems better for a while after you held him down (it's comical, he could throw you across the room with a light spasm, but prefers to be weak for once, even if it's lie and he's so thankful you don't call him out, when you join the game and play your part and make him feel powerless, all responsibility drained, not having to be anything at all but your boyfriend, sweating and moaning beneath you).

#there's much much much more in me where that came from #and it only gets worse #ben reilly #headcanons #scarlet spider #spider-man

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lnfours · 1 year

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Hey!! I'm not sure if you are still accepting requests but I was wondering if you could do a Tom x RDJ niece reader one where Tom and y/n have always liked each other but due to y/n being RDJ's niece they have always tried to deny their feelings for each other but one day they simply can't keep denying their feelings..

this is so 😩 im a sucker for anything where reader is related to rdj/stark!reader UGH okay here we go

also thank u for being so patient while i worked on this, i hope you like it! <333

cleaning out my inbox 💌

ever since it was confirmed that you, the niece of robert downey jr, were going to play tony stark's daughter, everyone on social media lost their shit.

in a good way, of course.

in the marvel cinematic universe, you play the daughter of tony stark. your character takes on the responsibilities of being 'the next iron man', as some will say. your character is as witty, charming, sarcastic and smart as tony is. which is why people thought that having none other than a blood relative of the man who brings tony stark to life play your character was a great casting decision.

they especially went crazy when it was revealed that your character ends up being the love interest of peter parker. the scene between you and tom in infinity war was a fan favorite. said scene being where you realize that thanos had gotten what he wanted. the one where tom's unscripted line broke the heart of millions of people.

the one where your characters share a kiss before he's turned into dust before your character has a full blown mental breakdown over losing the love of her life. where tony pulls your character close, sharing the painful grief, heartbreak and sadness.

and if someone had told you that specific on-screen kiss would change your life, you would've thought that they were crazy.

but here you were, sitting in your trailer as you were about to go onto set. your character was brought back to be in the new spider-man movie. of course, it was no secret that you and tom had real life feelings for each other, but you found each scene to be a little bit harder to hide the fact that you were slowly starting to fall in love with him.

you were waiting for your call-time to come back to set to wrap up for the day, absentmindedly flipping through the paper script before you heard a knock on your trailer door. you got up, opening the door and being met with a familiar pair of brown, warm eyes.

you smiled sweetly, "hey, come in."

tom smiled back at you as he made his way into the trailer, closing the door behind him. you sat back down on the couch. tom had asked earlier on in the day if you wanted to run through a few lines together before going back to film. you had agreed quickly, praying that it didn't sound too eager to make sure he didn't catch onto the fact that you'd do anything as long as you got to be with him.

he did catch on though. but he didn't mind, he was glad you were as smitten as he was. he was glad to know that he wasn't the only one crushing hard on the other.

"which scene did you want to go through?" you asked as he sat down across from you. he flipped to the page where he had bent the top corner, letting his leg slowly start shaking as nerves took over his body.

"we could do page 223, if you wanted to."

you flipped to the page, eyes slightly widening. you were familiar with this scene, it was the one the two of you were doing later. the one where your characters kiss.

oh, fuck.

"sure," you cleared your throat, "where do you want to start?"

"from the top?"

"sounds good."

he cleared his throat, his american accent filling your ears as he reas the words on the page, "sorry for bailing the other night, wasn't cool."

"it's okay," you smiled, "duty calls."

he chuckled, "yeah, we can say that," his eyes looked up from the script as he looked at you, "however, i'd much rather spend time with you than chase shocker through the streets of manhattan."

you smiled, "you like me that much, tiger?"

he shook his head, smiling softly, "no, i love you that much."

you smiled, "it's honor to be loved by you, spider-boy."

you both read the line at the bottom of the page. you bit down on your lip nervously.

"we don't have to kiss right now if you don't want to," he said, his british accent filling your ears again, "i mean, i know we have to when we film, but right now we don't have to."

"i mean," you shrugged, "it's in the script."

he chuckled, "yeah, but we can save it for the cameras."

"i mean, i don't... mind... as long as you don't, obviously." you stammered, cheeks turning hot as a light pink shade dusted his cheeks. he nodded.

"i don't mind either."

"okay," you chuckled nervously.

"okay," he smiled, "did you wanna... c'mere, or did you want me to..."

he trailed off as you waved him off, "i can come over there."

you bit down on your lip nervously as you got up, ignoring the way your legs felt like jello. he watched as you climbed into his lap, like the way you're supposed to in the movie. both legs on each sides of his hips, his hands wrapped around your waist as yours snaked around his neck. he was so close, the smell of his cologne filling your nose as the warmth from his body radiated off of him.

"is this okay?" you asked, slowly starting to be distracted by how close the two of you were.

he nodded, eyes flickering from your lips back up to your eyes, "yeah,"

"cool," you smiled shyly, your heart pounding against your ribs. his hands came up and cupped your face, like his character is supposed to.

"is this okay?"

"it's great," you nodded, forehead pressing against his.

"cool," it was his turn to become shy.

"ready?" you bit down on your bottom lip.

"yeah," he said, "you?"

"mhm," your eyes closing due to how content you were. you could've stayed like this for the rest of time.

he brought your face down to his as he kissed you softly. you kissed him back, his left hand moving has he gripped your waist, squeezing you tighter against him as your lips slipped together. he made the first move, his teeth gently pulling at your bottom lip. you gasped quietly against his mouth, his tongue slipping in as he kissed you passionately.

this was all the two of you now, nothing scripted. nothing but pure lust for one another.

the two of you kissed for what felt like hours, but in reality it was probably only a couple minutes. you hadn't realized, but you ended up moving to lay flat on your back, tugging on his hoodie as you brought him with you. he didn't let his lips leave yours as he hovered over you, pulling away slowly so he could catch a breath.

"holy shit," he panted softly.

you chuckled, "is that a good 'holy shit' or a bad one?"

he leaned back down, shaking his head with a smile, lips brushing up against yours as he spoke before kissing you again, "a very good one."

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ultraozzie3000 · 9 months

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Some Pitiful Melodies

Sigmund Gottfried Spaeth (1885–1965) sought to popularize classical music and improve the musical tastes of the masses by meeting the public wherever he could find them, from vaudeville halls to national radio broadcasts. September 1, 1934 cover by William Steig. Born in a line of three generations of Lutheran clergymen, Spaeth chose a different path and became a musicologist who sought to…

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#Alan Dunn #Barbara Shermund #Chicago World&039;s Fair 1933 #E.B. White #Emmanuel Berl #George Price #Henry Anton Steig #Howard Brubaker #James Thurber #Janet Flanner #Otto Soglow #Peter Arno #Rea Irvin #Richard Decker #Ripley Odditorium #Robert Ripley #Sigmund Spaeth #William Steig

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irondad-defensesquad · 3 months

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The perks of being a wallflower - Chapter 1

Also posted on AO3!

I spent the entire day writing this. The second chapter will be posted shortly, I hope.

There might be some timeline inaccuracies but the MCU already sucks at that, so bear with me, lmao.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - mentions of bullying, death, suicidal thoughts and self-harm.

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

To Iron Man,

My name is Peter Parker and you’re my favorite hero! Look, I drew you! Your armor is pretty hard to draw but I tried.

I like building stuff too! I wanna grow up to be just like you one day. I heard you built stuff when you were just five. That’s so cool!

Sincerely,

Peter, age 7

Parker

To Iron Man,

Hi! It’s Peter again. Parker. I dunno if you remember me. Did you get my first letter? You must be busy being the coolest hero in the world so I understand if you couldn’t answer.

Anyway I’m going to the Stark Expo! For a whole week! I’m gonna see you up close!! My Uncle Ben is the best. He’s a big fan too!

See you there!

Sincerely,

Peter Parker, age 9

To Iron Man,

I can’t believe I actually met you!! Twice!!! You said “nice work, kid”! Did you remember me??

Yeah too bad I’m grounded… I really scared Uncle Ben and Aunt May. But thanks to you I’m okay! This was the best week of my life! Do you think we’re gonna meet again? I dunno but it would be nice.

I hope you’re ok after all that. That Hammer guy is nobody! That’s what he gets for messing with you!

Anyway I have to go to bed, good night!

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Iron Man

Dear Mr. Stark,

Hi, Peter again! How are you? I got really worried… I never thought I’d see aliens like this. Then I saw on TV that you flew right into the wormhole and I got so scared that you would get stuck in it forever…

Do you ever get scared, Mr. Stark? Aunt May and Uncle Ben tell me they’re surprised that I don’t get scared often. But I was really scared something happened to you or to them. I don’t wanna lose anyone else…

We’re all okay though! But I still hope you’re safe now, Mr. Stark.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

I saw what happened in Malibu and I got so scared! I’m really sorry you lost your home. I was so sad and afraid you were gone, but Uncle Ben told me you’re gonna find a way out of this. You always know what to do, Mr. Stark! You’re a genius! I know you’ll come back somehow and defeat the bad guys, like you always do! I’m rooting for you!

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

P.S.: I tried to draw you again but no armor this time! Because you’re a hero with or without the armor! I hope you know that. Even if I never send you this… or any other letters…

Dear Mr. Stark,

Happy birthday!

I actually had a science fair today… and I built my own miniature arc reactor! It’s not as good as yours of course. But I got a pretty good grade! Even if I didn’t win the fair, I was in third place!

There’s this kid Flash, though, I think he got jealous and he tried to break my arc reactor. I didn’t let him! He really doesn’t like me and I dunno why. I never did anything to him. But I guess nobody likes me at school except for Ned, who’s my best friend. We like building LEGOs together.

Okay, sorry for rambling, Mr. Stark. Hope you have a great birthday!

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

I had a bad day.

I mean I guess everyone has bad days. Maybe you have bad days too. But sometimes my bad days are really bad.

Flash is even worse, because he usually just insults me and I ignore him, but he has some friends that do the dirty work. Like today they shoved me in a locker and the hallway was completely empty. It was dark and very tight in there, it was kinda hard to breathe. I screamed for help but no one would hear. I didn’t have my phone so I couldn’t call anyone. Eventually the janitor found me and let me out.

I think I might be claustrophobic like the doctors say. I felt like I was gonna die in that locker…

I didn’t wanna tell Aunt May and Uncle Ben. They’re always busy and I know Uncle Ben is gonna get really angry. Like he doesn’t get angry at me but he doesn’t have to worry. I don’t want him to worry and get upset because of me.

… Sorry for being a downer, Mr. Stark. Sometimes I just really hate school.

Hope you’re ok.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

Have you ever seen Star Wars? I watched it with Ned and I love it! We binged the movies on the weekend, then we spent all day talking about it and all the theories we came up with.

Ned really gets me, we’re into the same things and we really laugh a lot. I’m really glad to have him.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

I can’t really sleep.

I’ll be honest, I write when I can’t sleep. And I have to be real quiet or else Aunt May or Uncle Ben will find out and they’re gonna get worried about me.

I dunno, nothing particularly bad happened today. I mean, Flash was a jerk like always, but it never went too far. I just feel something tight in my chest that won’t really go away. Sometimes I find it hard to breathe, like I’m still stuck in that locker.

Now that I think of it, not even Ned knows about the locker thing. I guess only the janitor knows. And you. Kinda.

But I think everyone knows Flash taunts me and they don’t really do anything. But I don’t want my aunt and my uncle getting worked up about it. I feel like my school wouldn’t really care anyway.

…

Would you care, Mr. Stark?

I dunno. Maybe not.

Writing to you helps anyway.

So… thanks.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

Liz is so pretty.

She’s a girl in my school. She’s not in my grade but she’s in the Decathlon with me. She’s smart and funny and cute and gorgeous…

Flash can tell and yeah, he loves being a jerk about it.

Liz is nice to me. Well, she’s nice to everyone. But she compliments me and I feel all fuzzy inside. It’s so weird.

I kinda hate that I started writing stuff to her too. I’m DEFINITELY not sending that to her. It’s so cheesy!

I think she likes Star Wars. She was super into my conversation with Ned today. And then I couldn’t really concentrate with her eyes on me, totally interested in what I had to say…

Mr. Stark, what should I do? How do you talk to pretty people?? And why am I asking this to Iron Man???

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

I really hate Valentine’s day.

I mean, I like Liz but she already gets a bunch of stuff, obviously, because she’s the greatest girl ever and it’s not like anything I do would be good enough. But all the Valentine’s cards I get are pranks. Once Flash and his friends pranked me and the card told me to wait after school. And I stayed there and nobody showed up. I even bought flowers and chocolate but I threw them away.

I did make a little card though. But it wasn’t that red heart we’re all familiar with. I kinda modeled it after your new arc reactor, Mr. Stark. I’m not really good at art, but it looked kinda cool.

In the end I just gave it to Ned, because he’s probably the only person who makes me feel good. And he loved the card so much. He gave me chocolate in return!

I guess it wasn’t so bad.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

It’s my birthday! And I got a camera!

I remember playing with my uncle’s old camera as a kid, and he thought I was a great photographer. So he and my aunt surprised me with a brand new camera! I’m also in a photography extra class so I can learn more!

It’s really fun. I actually love analog photography. I love the whole process, the chemicals, that red light in the dark… It's still a laboratory and I’m all for it.

And at least it’s the class where I can enjoy myself without Flash pestering me so much.

I’m having so much fun!

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

Sorry for not writing in a while.

First, would you get mad if I told you I went to Oscorp?

I mean, I went there with my school. It was okay, I guess. Though I would rather go to the Avengers Tower if I’m being honest. I dunno why Midtown never arranged it.

Anyway, I took some cool pictures with my camera. But I think I got bitten by something. Then I learned about the radioactive spiders they kept there. It was creepy. I don’t like spiders.

The bite in my hand looks pretty nasty. In fact my hand kinda hurts. And so does my head.

I should probably stop writing.

Dear Mr. Stark,

Okay. A lot of stuff happened.

1) I don’t have to wear glasses anymore. When I try, my vision looks pretty blurry.

2) I can glue myself to things and I think that’s worse when I’m too anxious. I literally couldn’t get out of bed one morning without my hands holding my blanket.

3) I can hear EVERYTHING. All the other floors in the building, even whispers or flies, stuff like that. I can overhear Aunt May and Uncle Ben talking or the calls they have to take.

4) My brain sorta screams when I sense any sort of threat. Like when Flash approached and I felt tense all over.

That definitely has something to do with that radioactive spider.

I had a pretty bad fever, my aunt and my uncle were pretty worried. No one really knew what was going on. I’m just glad it’s over. But now I have to deal with these… powers. And I wish I could turn them off. I thought of getting those soundproof headphones, y’know?

It’s so much. I know you don’t have powers, Mr. Stark, but what would you do if you were me? Would you be able to find something to quiet them down?

I can’t really talk to anyone else about this.

Sincerely,

Peter

Dear Mr. Stark,

My Uncle Ben is the greatest guy ever. Besides you, of course.

He loves doing everything with me, like watching movies or going to baseball games. I love doing those things too. However, in the middle of the game, I think I had a “sensory overload”, like Aunt May said. Because I was really overwhelmed by all the screaming, the spit, the smells, the lights… I tried to be strong for my uncle but I made the excuse I had to use the restroom. Uncle Ben was going to take me there but I didn’t want him to lose the game so I decided to go alone. I think he could tell I wasn’t okay because he followed me and took me somewhere quieter. Uncle Ben is probably the most patient man I know because he didn’t get angry at me. In fact he suggested we should go home. I couldn’t really protest because I knew I wouldn’t handle the rest of the game with all those loud people.

He didn’t really talk to me on the ride home, but I heard him talking to Aunt May. He was pretty concerned. He said there was something off about me lately. Aunt May just told him to give me some rest for now.

I started crying in my room.

Now I can’t even enjoy baseball games with my uncle. Nor movies. When I found him watching TV, the noise and the light was too much for me. I felt so bad. I didn’t even eat dinner. Aunt May had to leave me some so I wouldn’t go to bed without any food.

I hate this. I hate these new powers, these sensations.

Why can’t I be a normal kid again?

Sincerely,

Peter

Dear Mr. Stark,

I can’t sleep, again. Even less now with these powers.

I have so many more questions to ask you, but there’s one I really want you to answer.

I’m a good kid or at least that’s what everyone tells me. I like to play, I’m a good student and I don't bother anyone. I love Aunt May and Uncle Ben, and I know they love me too. But sometimes, I get sad. I don’t cry even if I want to. My eyes are heavy, I know I’m overwhelmed, but I can’t sleep at all.

Do you get sad, Mr. Stark? What do you do when you get sad? How do you not get sad?

I really want a hug right now but I don’t want to wake up my aunt and my uncle, because they have to go to work early. Is it weird to say I want a hug from you, Mr. Stark? Is it weird to admit I wish you showed up at school to save me from bullies and my own powers? That’s stupid, right?

At least you’re never going to read these letters…

Sincerely,

Peter

Dear Mr. Stark,

Uncle Ben died.

He’s gone.

He’s really gone…

Ever since that baseball game, I started feeling more irritated. I distanced myself more and more. The bullying at school got worse. I started doing stupid things to my body. I didn’t want to tell you, Mr. Stark, but I began cutting myself again. I kind of stopped for a while but the habit returned. And when Uncle Ben found out, he got really upset. Like, he was more upset that I didn’t tell him I was suffering than he was angry at me being a brat. Even then, Uncle Ben could never bring himself to hate me.

But I was stupid. I ran away from home. Of course, he went after me.

And all I could hear was the shot.

Uncle Ben was lying on the floor, bleeding so much red.

I tried to say I was sorry… but I was too late.

He was gone.

I didn’t even want to go after who shot him. If anything, I killed Uncle Ben. I hurt him and I killed him.

Aunt May cried the entire week. I even stayed with her at night. I knew she didn’t want to be alone.

So the apartment is empty. Lonely. There is no TV airing games or movies anymore.

At least Ned is coming over sometimes or letting me stay over at his house, because I can’t handle that emptiness. It’s worse than loud noises.

I kind of wish Uncle Ben hated me so maybe he wouldn’t have gone after me.

I kind of wish he and Aunt May never took me in.

I wish I was never born at all.

My life just gets worse and worse… What's the point?

What’s the point, Mr. Stark?

I should’ve been shot, not Uncle Ben. He didn’t deserve it. I did.

I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry I’m this mess.

I wish I could just die.

Dear Mr. Stark,

I think I’m managing my senses now.

I made my own suit. It’s not fancy like your suits of armor, but it helps me focus.

I guess I was inspired by you and Uncle Ben. I could use my powers for good.

So… I’m a vigilante, I guess.

You can call me Spider-Man.

I don’t really do anything interesting but I help the best I can.

School is not really going well, I had to give up a lot of things, mainly sports. That would just draw too much attention.

I have to be there for everyone, or else I know I’m going to face my really bad thoughts. I don’t want them to take over me.

I don’t think I’ll have a lot of time to write, so I want to thank you, Mr. Stark. I know you’re not going to read this, but you helped me in a really bad phase of my life. You still do. I hope you know you inspire a lot more people out there. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man

(Chapter 2)

#lotus speaks #irondad #fics #my fics #suicide mention tw #self-harm mention tw #self harm mention tw #sh mention tw #bullying mention tw #death mention tw #grief tw

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