Hey I Dont Know If You Write For Peter Parker But If You Do Could I Get A Blurb Where Reader Is Called

Hey 👋 I don’t know if you write for Peter Parker but if you do could I get a blurb where reader is called a slut for no particular reason by someone they know and she goes crying to Peter about it. You can do what you like without after that thanks 😊

getting to your head

a/n: i do write peter parker! he always over 18 tho... i hope this was up to your expectations... enjoy

warnings: degrading name slut, soft Parker, pure fluff

masterlist

Y/N was grabbing her books out of her locker, placing them into her backpack when a nasally high pitched voice called her name. Regina stood beside Y/N with the rest of her clique behind her.

“You’re a slut,” Regina said flicking her hair over her shoulder before walking away.

Giggles were heard from her clique, some agreeing and mirroring Regina’s actions.

Y/N stood in shock. The statement was so unforeseen that it had shaken Y/N. It normally wouldn’t have because Regina’s insults were always habitual, calling her an idiot or ugly. For some reason, Y/N took this insult to heart and felt a lump grow in her throat. 

She quickly packed her bag and dashed out of the school, slamming her locker shut. Some students hadn’t even flinched, while some stared at her like she was an extraterrestrial creature.

Luckily, Peter was already waiting for her in the front of the school. He had recently turned 19 and decided to stay with Mr. Stark to work with the Avengers. He had also offered to help Y/N with transportation and school, being that he was your boyfriend. she’s 18

“Hey, baby, how’re you doing?” He gave her a warm smile before he noticed her unshed tears, “What’s wrong, princess?” He asked embracing her shaking body.

“T-These girls, they called me a ‘slut,’” Y/N sobbed into Peter’s “if you believe in telekinesis” shirt.

“Don’t listen to them. You are not a slut. You’re the most loyal girlfriend ever. They’re just trying to get to your head,” Peter stroked your hair, comforting you.

“I know I should’t’ve made such a big deal out of it, but it just, it really hurt. I’ve never been called a ‘slut’ before,” she said, her sobs starting to lessen. 

“And you won’t be called a ‘slut’ anymore, alright. I love you and your loyalty, and that’s all that matters,” Peter lightly kissed the top of her head.

“I love you, too,” she said lifting her head off his chest, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

He chuckled, “Now, wanna go get a churro?”

“Let’s go, Spideyboy.”

how about the holland brothers being very protective of the reader (she’s their sister) even though she’s 18, but they don’t like her boyfriend or something

Protective

a/n: i’m sorry if you requested this a while ago. i hope this is good. this is my first time writing tom holland sister fics…

warnings: angst, fluff, couple of curse words

masterlist

Y/N started dating a boy named Brad, he was known for his looks and ways with girls. She had developed a huge crush on him and he took the opportunity to gain more popularity, being that she was related to Tom Holland. 

“Y/N! He’s using you. Can’t you see? It’s so obvious!” Sam groans.

“Don’t be so mean to her, Sam. She really likes him,” Harry glares at Sam. “Look Y/N/N, we are just trying to protect you. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he is using you for the fame,” Harry says gently.

“Why can’t you guys be happy for me! He likes me and I like him! Not everything is about Tom and how he’s “oh, so famous.” Brad cares for me, goddamnit!” She shouted, frustrated.

“Y/N,” Tom’s voice appeared, “as bad as it sounds, they’re right. It’s Brad’s reputation that he cares about. I’m sorry.”

“No! I’m- He couldn’t! He said he cared! That he loved me!” Y/N’s tears roll down her face.

They sat together on the couch comforting her for the rest of the day, convincing her to break up with Brad. When she did, she realized her brothers had been telling her the truth and she had felt terrible for yelling at them. They, of course, forgave her and she was glad she had brothers as great as them.

hi i just wanna say i really like your writing

hi! thank you so much, that means a lot to me. lots of love x

laundry day

a/n: this took me like 2-3 hours to write - oops - i came up with this idea when i was drawing in my sketchbook, hopefully it’s good because it’s already 4 am lol

pairing: college!flirt!tom holland x nerdy!reader

warnings: foul language, kind of sexual not really, tom being a dick and a flirt, y/n has a shitty day, rip harry is such good friend

masterlist

pt.1 | pt.2

After a long day, you headed back to your dorm, taking a bath a soon as you got back. You had planned on going to the library to do some late night studying, or just reading, after your bath. Unfortunately, it was laundry day and you only had a white, cropped camisole and a short skirt, that was too short to be worn anywhere, left in your closet. You groaned having no other choice than to take those. 

The day had been terrible for you. You had been assigned stacks on stacks of papers that were either due by the end of the week or 3 weeks, maximum. Then, when you were rushing to get your lunch, some ass cut in front of you and took at least 30 minutes to order, resulting in you not having any lunch and rushing to your class. After that class, you had 15 minutes to get to your next lecture, so you decided to get yourself a coffee. Thankfully, you were able to order this time with no interruption, but when you were walking to the lecture hall, a curly brunette “accidentally,” and harshly, bumped your shoulder, making you drop the coffee in your hand. You cried out, feeling your anger succumb your every emotion.

“Dude,” you exclaimed.

You were never the kind to fight back, but today had already been so shitty for you that you’d snapped.

The brunette grinned, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“My ass,” you rolled your eyes, clenching your fists at your side, “look, buddy, today has already been a very shitty day for me, so if you wouldn’t mind, at least sound sincere when you apologize for fucking spilling my only source of energy.”

“Sheesh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he laughed, not taking a single word you had said seriously.

“You know what? Just fuck off,” you stomped away, remembering that you still had to get to your next lecture.

He snickered behind you as you walked away, clearly finding amusement in your indignation. 

That brings you to where you are now: heading to library in a skimpy outfit with a strap of your book bag clinging onto your right shoulder. By now it was 8 P.M. and you still hadn’t gotten any food to eat. Although your stomach was growling louder than a predatory animal sensing danger, you were determined to get to the only place you could seek peace: the library. 

As you walked in, Harry, one of your close friends was eyeing you weirdly. He had volunteered to work at the library, seeing he could do his homework and study there, as well as get in a few aesthetic pictures.

“What are you wearing?” His eyebrows furrowed, scanning your outfit.

“Don’t judge, it’s laundry day and today fucking sucked,” you groaned loudly, knowing that no one would be at the library at such a late time of day.

Your stomach growled, “You got a lion in your shirt, or shall I say piece of fabric?” 

“I haven’t eaten lunch or dinner at all today,” you slouched, dropping your bag to the floor, “got anything I could eat?”

“Of course, I got to have a snack or twenty if I’m going to be working till 10 P.M,” he handed you two large energy bars, “you’re gonna need it.”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” you pulled a chair over to the circulation desk, where Harry was seated.

“I know,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes before grabbing you book bag, pulling out Pride and Prejudice, one of your favorites. You opened the book to the page you left off on and began reading. Harry had gone back to studying and taking pictures, mostly of you.

“Harry,” a voice boomed as it entered. 

You had only gotten 45 minutes to read in peace. You mentally and probably physically banged your head with the book.

“Are you ready to go?” The voice continued. 

As you listened closely, you realized you’d heard to voice before. You just couldn’t put your finger on who it was. 

“I still have 1 hour left, Tom,” Harry stated.

You lifted your head in the direction of the familiar stranger. It was curly brunette, the one who had knocked your coffee out of your hand and given zero fucks about it.

“Who’s there, Harry?” you asked, staying hidden in your seat. 

“Just my older brother, Tom. I don’t talk about him much ‘cause he’s a dick,” he said, raising his voice at the end, making sure Tom could hear him.

“Right, I’m the dick,” Tom mumbled to himself before snapping back, “call me another name and I won’t be giving you a ride home tonight. Also, who’s the girl?”

“Y/N, she’s my friend,” he replied, paying no mind to his brother.

Tom brought it upon himself to scope you out. He wandered through the isles of books and looked at all the seats in the library, finally finding you to be sitting with his brother. His eyes scanned your body, admiring the suddenly too tight tank top and short skirt on you.

“Hey, coffee girl,” he winked.

“You know Tom?” Harry glanced at you, confused.

“No, I don’t. I just know that he’s a douche who can suck and choke on his own dick,” you had tensed and your anger from the afternoon had started rising again. 

“I’m sure you’d like to,” his stance not faltering.

“Son of a bitch,” you simply flipped him off, not wanting to put anymore effort into him than necessary. 

He chuckled and brought a chair over to sit himself next to you. The warmth of his body was radiating off of him. 

“Pride and Prejudice, a classic. I’ve never read it, though. Would you say the 2005 film was worthy of its positive reviews?” Tom tried to start a conversation, but you ignored him, scooting your chair away from his.

“C’mon, darling, if you’re still mad about the coffee, I can make it up to you,” this peeked your interest.

“How so?” You asked, placing your chin in the palm of your hand.

“You and me, tomorrow at 12 P.M, that french café near the garden. See you then?” He offered, arching his brow.

You sat silently, thinking about it, “Fine, but don’t think that this is a date.”

He grabbed a pen and post it, writing his contact information on it, “Whatever you want, princess.” 

You snatched the paper out of his hand and began packing your bags. Forgetting that you were wearing practically a strip of fabric around your waist, you bent over and grabbed your bag, giving Tom a great view of your ass and the black, lace panties you wore.

Harry cleared his throat, “Y/N, your skirt.”

Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh shit, sorry.”

You stood up straight, pulling the skirt down as far as possible and started to head out before a voice stopped you.

“Also, feel free to wear that tomorrow,” Tom winked one last time before letting you walk away.

Your face was burning red and you couldn’t help but let your giggle slip through your lips. You were sure gonna wear this tomorrow.

If you feel comfortable with writing It. a holland sister when she think she might be pregnant? her and brad did sleep together. you can decide If It’s negative or positive.

it’s longer than expected but definitely a good request... thank you for sending it in!!!

here’s the fic: pregnant

19, 20 and 27 from your prompt list please. Oh my god I’m so excited I love your writing and I can’t wait to see what you do with these, only if you’re comfortable of course. Love you 💕💕.

15 months, wasted

a/n: this is such a great combo!! i enjoyed writing this very much, hopefully you enjoyed reading it,,, love you too xx

pairing: best friend!tom x reader

warnings: infidelity (cheating), angst, fluff, harrison supports your ship with tom

masterlist

19. “You’re trembling.”

20. “I want an answer, goddammit!”

27. “You could have died.”

You happily skipped into your flat, holding a few bags in your hand. You had gone out to buy more clothes to expand to your style, but you had also gone to buy some new lingerie to surprise James, your boyfriend. 

“James, babe? I’m back,” you hollered, looking around the empty flat. You heard sounds coming from your shared bedroom. It sounded like a female moaning. Worriedly, you headed up the stairs that led to your room, “James?”

You pushed the door open, and to your horror, James was pinning another woman down to the bed. She was gasping and moaning while he pounded into her. By the looks of her state, they’ve been at it for a while.

“James?” Your voice barely a whisper.

His head snapped at the sound of your bags dropping to the ground. Tears gathered in your eyes, and you looked like you were going to be sick. 

“Y/N, I-I can explain,” he pulled out of the flustered girl underneath him, rushing over to you.

Like your feet had a mind of its own, it carried you to move fast and far from the naked figure.

“Y/N, stop,” he yelled after you, trying to grab you, barely missing your arm. He huffed, “Please, let me talk.”

You looked at his hand on your arm and ripped it out of his grasp, “No, you don’t get to talk! I should be the one talking.” Sighing, you fixed your composure, “How long? How long have you been with that - that,” you groaned not knowing what to call her. True, she did sleep with your boyfriend, but she probably didn’t know, and you didn’t want to slut shame another woman. “That girl,” you chose.

He stayed silent, looking everywhere but you. The blonde had even come out of the room, confused to your relation with him. She stayed silent, though, knowing that the two of you were talking about a serious topic.

“I want an answer, goddammit!” You yelled, faltering his helpless stance. Still, to your displeasure, he hadn’t said a word. Getting frustrated, you yelled, “Answer me, you coward!”

“9 months, alright,” he whined like a child.

“That’s great. That’s just perfect. Splendid! Amazing! Fucking stellar,” you felt like you were going insane. 15 months of your relationship down the drain, though, he was only honest with you for 6 months.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl finally spoke, “I didn’t know. If I knew, I wouldn’t have slept with him.”

I gave the girl an apologetic look, for I wasn’t mad at her, I was made at the cheater I called a boyfriend.

“I’m leaving,” you pushed James to the side, racing to your car. You could hear him calling after you, but didn’t dare to leave the flat in his birthday suit.

Once you were in the protection of your car, you broke down, letting your tears flow freely. You couldn’t believe that you wasted 1 year and 3 months on that bimbo. Everyone had warned you about him, yet you believed none of them. The fault was on you.

You started the car, eyes still clouded with your tears, but you didn’t care. You needed to get as far as possible from this place. You already knew where and who you were going to go to.

You banged your fist on the scarlet red door. You were still sobbing and you eyes were shining with tears.

“Bloody hell, what the fu-,” Tom opened the door, annoyed at the persistent knocking. He saw your red, tear-filled eyes and worry washed over him, “Darling, what happened? Who did this to you?” He embraced you, letting you sob into his sweatshirt. He felt your body shaking in his hold, and whispered, “You’re trembling.”

He pulled you from his chest, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb. You stepped into his house and plopped onto his couch. 

Harrison was sat on a cream leather counter stool at the bar table. He glanced at you and then to Tom. The look in his eyes were enough to expose what he was thinking. Tom simply shrugged and approached you.

He stroked your arm, “Darling, you’ve got to tell me what happened if you want me to help you.”

“James,” you hiccuped, “he ch-cheated on me.”

“That bastard did what?” Tom was absolutely furious. He knew of James’ reputation, but he wouldn’t let himself think so lowly of your boyfriend so lowly, well now ex-boyfriend. Tom sat beside you, letting you collapse in his lap. “How’d you get here?” He asked while stroking your y/h/c locks.

“Drove,” you said, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous question.

“You drove here? Y/N, that’s a 20 to 30 minute drive,” Tom sat you back up, gripping your shoulders.

“Yeah, I know, I drove here,” you replied, rolling your eyes once again.

“While you were crying?” You nodded, “That’s fucking dangerous! If you weren’t paying attention, you could’ve crashed and killed someone!” 

“Well, I didn’t, Tom. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m still in one piece,” you snapped back.

“You could have died,” he replied softly. You looked at your lap, fiddling with your hands, which he grabbed, “I’m here for you, always. Next time, call me, though, I hope there’s no next time.”

You smiled, “Alright, Tommy. I’m tired from all that crying I did, can you hold me while I sleep?”

His heart warmed, “Of course, love, anything for you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname. 

Tom wrapped his big, muscular arms around your waist, laying the two of you into a comfortable position. It didn’t take you long to fall asleep, and Tom followed not long after. 

Harrison watched the entire interaction from his seat. What the two of you couldn’t see was that you were perfect for each other. He had quietly gotten out of his seat and grabbed a blanket, tucking the two of you in it.

Harrison couldn’t help but smile at his two best friends holding each other.