#touching prompts

[blooming-violets]

Giving preschool teacher Peter Parker a massage, I know those kiddos use his long limbs as a human jungle gym

[from this prompt list] [feel free to request a prompt from the list]

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

Gray Hairs and Massages

"And then, for some unknown reason, Marcus stood up and started singing Jingle Bells at the top of his lungs while Allie attempted to do the worm around him. She hit her face off the floor and got a bloody nose. Meanwhile, Jessica and Kit have climbed to the top of the bookcase and are attempting to jump off, Kevin has Chubs the hamster in his pocket even after I told him not to touch the class pet, Max is spinning in circles so fast that he starts puking, Rowen is crying in the corner because he misses his mom, and the rest of the kids are sitting on the circle time rug looking at me like they've lost all hope in my abilities to run a classroom!"

Peter let out a loud, exaggerated sigh and flopped face first onto the bed after detailing his chaotic work day to you.

"I thought fighting crime was hard," he mumbled into the bunched up blankets under his face. "Preschool is worse than any bad guy I've ever come across."

You repressed a laugh for his own sanity and took a seat on the bed beside him, "At least it'll be good practice for when we have kids. If you can handle 22 children, I think you should be able to handle four with ease."

He peaked his eyes up from his blanket prison to give you a questioning look, "Four? You want four kids now? What happened to only two?"

You shot him a smile and gave an innocent shrug, "Hearing you talk about the chaos made me excited. I want to see you in action. Super dad, Peter Parker. It has a nice ring to it."

He groaned and hid his face back into the blankets, "I don't think I could even handle one. These children are crazed. They're taking over. They know I'm weak. They can smell my blood in the water and they're circling into attack mode. They're going to eat me alive. One day someone will check in on me and my half devoured body will be staring lifeless up at the ceiling while the children have gone completely feral as they feast on my flesh for snacktime. It's Lord of the Flies in there. My head has been pounding all evening."

You chucked at his over exaggeration of the situation and patted his back, "Such a drama queen. My day was lovely, thank you for asking. I got to sit in a quiet library and sort books."

He rolled over and flopped his head into your lap, staring up at you, "That sounds wonderful. Wanna trade?"

"You wish." You brushed your fingers through his thick hair. "Want me to give you a massage? I'll go grab some ibuprofen for your headache and massage away your troubles."

He responded with a pathetically sad whine, "Please. I'm dying."

You scooted out from under him to go grab a bottle of pain meds from the cabinet, along with a glass of water, and your cooling eye mask from the fridge. When you returned, Peter was laying in his boxers and had half unbuttoned his shirt before giving up. His arms were flopped onto the mattress and spread out to either side of him while he stared in a daze up at the ceiling.

"Help me," he croaked, his voice clearly strained from trying to speak over boisterous four year old's all day. "'m so tired. Can't even finish taking my shirt off. Just wanna be comfy..."

"Oh, honey, you poor thing," you chuckled under your breath. "Come here."

You placed his things on the bedside table and quickly made work of unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugged it off his shoulders, grabbing the pain relief next to him and chugging the entire glass of water with it. You helped fix the eye mask around his face and he rolled back onto his stomach.

You climbed up on top of him, straddling your legs on either side of his hips, and started to rub your hands over his bare shoulders. Peter let out a low groan of approval.

"Your hands are so cold," he mumbled.

"Aren't they always like that?" You replied, working your fingers into his large muscles with circular motions.

"Yeah but they feel nice now. You should quit your library job and work as a masseuse. Libraries are a dying breed."

You gasped in feigned outrage, "How dare you speak of my beloved library like that?"

He shrugged his tense shoulders, a tiny smile gracing his half hidden face, "Truth hurts, baby."

"Yeah, well, at least I know I'll never become a preschool teacher."

"Hey, don't mess with us teachers. We're hardcore."

You laughed, "Says the man who couldn't even take off his shirt tonight."

He gave a sly smile, "Maybe I wanted you to be the one to undress me? Maybe I knew exactly what I was doing?"

"Or maybe you were exhausted and lazy?" You patted his shoulder and rolled off him, sitting upright on the mattress. "Turn around and roll over. Put your head in my lap. I'll massage your head."

He did as he was told and settled nicely into your lap, a lingering smile on his lips. You gently took the eye mask off his face to have better access to him. You started with a gentle pressure, circling around his temples and working your way up his hairline to his forehead.

"Imma fall 'sleep," he mumbled.

"Go for it. You deserve the rest."

You continued to work on massaging his scalp, listening to his breathing get steadier and softer, when you looked down and quietly gasped at what you saw. As you ran your fingers through his thick hair, you noticed a patch of gray glinting under the dim light. The more you brushed through it, the more single strands of gray you saw. It wasn't immediately obvious unless you were up close and grooming him like you were doing but, there was no denying it, Peter was graying.

"Well, shit," you whispered under your breath.

Peter peaked a sleepy eye open and mumbled, "What? Don't tell me a kid gave me lice again."

"Not lice. Did you know that you're graying?" You couldn't hide the tinge of amusement in your voice.

His eyes snapped open, the sleep vanishing from his face, and he shot up right.

"What? I'm not going gray! Don't say that!" He gasped, putting a protective hand to his precious hair.

You laughed at his over the top reaction, "Sorry, Pete, but go look in the mirror."

He rolled off the bed and ran to the bathroom. You laid down to curl up in the warm spot his body heat had left on the bed and smiled when you heard his yelp of horror from the other room.

"No!" He yelled. "Those damn kids! This is their fault!" He shuffled back into the bedroom with a pout. "Am I old?"

You rolled your eyes, "You're 35, Peter."

"Is that old?" He sank to knees beside the bed in front of your face and looked up at you with pleading, but playful, eyes.

You nodded, taking on a serious tone, "Very. Oldest man alive."

"Oy vey," he stifled a laugh with his hand. "Might as well get me a cane and call me grandpa. Now that I think about it, my father grayed really early and so did Uncle Ben. At least they both still had a full head of hair. I'd rather be gray than bald. If I start to bald, I need you to put me out of my misery."

You scooted over to give him space to climb into bed with you, "Come on, old man. I promise if you go bald that I will make you a wig out of my own hair."

He rolled into bed beside you and snuggled his face next to yours so your noses were brushing against each other, "I have gray hair."

"I know," you whispered back. "That's so fucking hot."

"Really?"

You nodded, "Oh yeah. You're giving off serious daddy vibes right now." You gave him a sneaky smirk. "Is this old man too tired to please his wife tonight?"

His smile matched yours as you watched his eyes spark to life, "Wow, look at that, I suddenly feel fully rested. You're the perfect cure to a crazy day."

[avocado-writing]

45 for the touch prompts, with tangerine, if you're able to! 🌻

45. feeling their temperature

“You’re sick.”

“I’m not fucking sick,” Tangerine snaps, then bursts into a cough so violent you’re surprised he doesn’t hack up a lung. You suppress the need to roll your eyes and instead nod towards the sofa, encouraging him to sit down. Tangerine grumbles but complies - his cooperation a testament to his ill-health - he falls back heavily and grunts as he sinks into the cheap upholstery of your loveseat. 

Christ, he looks unwell. He’s paler than usual and there’s a sheen of sweat all over his face. You’re amazed he even made it out to visit you, but come rain or shine he always visits on weekends. ‘Just to make sure you aren’t getting up to no good’, he insists. You’re not quite sure you believe that. 

You press the back of your hand to his forehead. He stiffens, not expecting the touch, and you’re worried for a moment you’ve gone too far - but quickly he relaxes under you as he gets used to the feeling. In fact he even seems to be leaning into it. 

“Well?” he asks, eventually, when you’ve been holding your hand against his warm skin for too long without saying anything. 

“I’m making you a Lemsip. And some soup,” is your professional opinion and, knowing he has no choice when you’re this made up, Tangerine lets himself be fussed over for once. 

[bunnimew]

Getchu a man you can climb, and won't hesitate to give you piggybacks. ;)

[avocado-writing]

think I will open for a couple of these lil blurbs while I am finishing up inbox stuff 🌝

Touching

Feeling another human’s touch.

touching foreheads

running fingers through hair

hiding face in neck

caressing the other’s hand

feeling their pulse

patting the other’s head

holding hands

shielding the other one with their body

listening to the other’s heartbeat

spooning at night

laying their hand on the other’s neck

pushing a strand of hair behind their ear

nudging the other one

putting an arm around the other’s waist

hugging each other

massaging them

holding the other’s chin up

squishing the other’s cheek

high fiving

bandaging/stitching up an injury

kissing the other’s brow

falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

carrying the other one in their arms

whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

stroking the other’s arm soothingly

kissing the top of their head

pulling the other one towards them

feeling for each other in the dark

tickling the other one

grabbing onto their arm

doing a pinky swear

caressing the other’s back

tasting their smile

washing the other’s body

kissing their bruises and scars

lifting the other one up

putting their head on the other’s chest

stroking their leg

leaning into the other’s side

patting them on the back

sitting close and knees touching

braiding the other’s hair

giving them a piggy-back ride

sitting on the other’s lap

feeling their temperature

linking arms with each other

touching their elbow to get their attention

dancing with each other

holding onto the other’s shoulders for support

putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

caressing the other’s cheek

gripping thigh

holding the other’s jaw

touching cheek to cheek

tracing the lines on the other’s hand

Hand-holding|Hugs|Kisses

[euthymiaaa]

— subtle physical affection prompts 𓆩♡𓆪

i hope everyone is having a great new year so far! enjoy :D

pushing strands of their hair out of their face

brushing the dust of their clothes

wiping off a food stain near their lips (bonus: you lick it off your fingers)

briefly tracing the lines of their palms

patiently helping them put their shoes on

teasingly playing with the string of their hoodie

nose boops

comparing hand sizes

accidentally grazing their hands as both of you are reaching for the same object

gentle massages for their shoulders

delicately putting your hand on their back

playful stabs with your fingers onto the side of their waist

ever so light forehead pecks

[snowheartsz]

fuck sex these bitches need a deep, LONG ASS hug where they don’t let go for a while and just soak into each other’s arms like the other’s heartbeat is their oxygen they so desperately need as they bawl their eyes out

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"How come there's no multi-war chess?"

Tim looked up at the entity that had been haunting him for the past few weeks now, "What does that even mean?"

"You know how chess is basically a game about two kingdoms going to war with eachother?" The being asked, his white gloves gesturing about lazily, "well wouldn't it make sense for chess competitions to make the players go into the next round with only the pieces that "survived" the last war? It would be more interesting."

Danny smirked as he watched Mr. Drakes mind whirring at all the new strategies and potential. Comforted in the knowledge that Mr. Drake wasn't going to get much paperwork done tonight, let alone have time to work on his project for the competition, Danny let himself vanish from the other boys office.

All he needed to do was keep distracting Tim from the competition and that prize was all Tuckers.

He just prayed Sam didn't find out he was doing this or that he was getting chased around by bats every other night or else she'd kill him the rest of the way

[emacrow]

Um.. Superman.. what that thing stuck on your cape?

Clark's brain short circuit for a moment as he just got back of flying at great speed in the middle of deep space to thrown one of Lex's giants bombs destroy the city and come back in record time.

He turn a bit to look at his cape to see a tiny humanoid starlight dust covered child with white hair, glowing full green that look like white specks stars were implanted themselves into his big ol eyes, nawing on a handful of stardust with inhumanly sharp itsy bitsy fangs.

A small yet floating crown that look similar to one of Nasa pictures of far out space.

Did he just accidentally abducted an royal alien child/teen?

[justaz]

merlin gets sick. like. bad sick. maybe its a curse maybe its natural idk all i know is that merlin gets sick. he has a fever so high he is somewhat delirious. his whole body hurts. he feels like death. he ends up traversing the castle to enter arthur’s chambers and climbs into bed next to him. he was in pain and felt like shit and in his delirious state, he went to the one person who could always offer him comfort. arthur wakes to find merlin curled up next to him, his tunic fisted tightly in his hand as if to keep arthur where he was. gaius quietly walks in and extracts merlin from the bed, apologizing and explaining that merlin was ill and delirious with the fever. merlin is being tugged out of bed, away from arthur.

he’s fighting as best he can which, considering he’s sick, isn’t that good as gaius doesn’t even blink. then merlin is being dragged across the room, away from arthur and his body heat which was chasing away the chills and his touch was easing his pain. merlin starts complaining, whining more like, about how he wants arthur. gaius apologizes again and says he’ll send for a replacement to serve him before finally getting merlin out of arthur’s chambers and back to his own bed. gaius steps out for an hour to retrieve herbs from the town and returns to finds arthur curled around merlin in his little cot in his room, merlin fisting arthur’s tunic and arthur’s hand rubbing up and down merlin’s back.

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Jazz takes care of a de-aged Danny, and they lay low in Gotham. But just because Danny’s body is younger doesn’t mean his powers have lessened. In fact, they’ve only grown harder to control. Having the energy of a child makes containing his powers harder (just like when he first got them) until they realize that Danny’s powers are much easier to control when he can get rid of some of his excess energy. Jazz hears about a free gym open to all that is also meta-proof (more durable) from a wonderful woman at the library. (Lookin at you Babs)

The gym has a gigantic kids play area, along with classes for all ages and a training area complete with an American Gladiator style obstacle course for adults. Jazz will use the obstacle course sometimes when her boss has fully ticked her off. Stephanie and Cass volunteer there whenever they can. Jason always sends the alley kids there too because it’s close by and a safe place. Dick leads a class there whenever he can.

Dick actually holds the record for the obstacle course. Until Jazz gives it a go after a particularly trying day. She doesn’t realize there’s a record. She never would have used the course if she’d known. Training with Pandora and Fright Knight gave her plenty of advantages with how she can use her liminality and she definitely doesn’t need to stand out.

But again, she doesn’t know there’s a record. Or that someone saw her going repeatedly through the course (Stephanie) and decided to time her on her next go. (She doesn’t film without permission because she’s respectful of boundaries like that) She does post Jazz’s time in the Batfam group chat to take Dick down a couple notches though.

Or someone else (not Batfam, just a random citizen) takes a video of her doing the course and posts it on the internet and now they (Jazz and Danny) have to stay one step ahead of Vlad, the Batfam, their parents, and avoid the GIW. How hard can it be?

[blooming-violets]

43: giving them a piggy-back ride

[from this prompt list] [feel free to request a prompt from the list]

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

The Piggy-Back

"Are we there yet?" Peter dragged his feet behind you as you trekked ahead. "Can't I just swing us there? It would be so much faster."

You stopped walking and turned around with a huff, "Peter Benjamin Parker, you are worse than a child!" You stuck your finger out at him in an accusatory manner. "We have to walk six blocks. That is not far. We do not need to swing everywhere. And, besides, it messes up my hair and I get wind burn. I'm sick of swinging. I would like to show up to this event not looking like I crawled out of a wind tunnel."

The two of you were attempting to walk the few blocks to your friend's house party. It was colder than you anticipated outside and, you had to admit, that swinging there would be faster. Still, you didn't want to risk the hard work you put into doing your hair. No amount of hairspray could hold it in place after a swing through the city.

"But it's cold," he pouted at you. His bottom lip stuck out to resemble a toddler about to throw a tantrum and his eyes widened into pleading, round saucers.

The look made you burst into laughter, "You're pathetic. Aren't you supposed to be a tough crime fighting superhero?"

Peter shook his head, keeping up the pout, "Not when I don't have a suit on. Now I'm just a normal person who's cold and sick of walking." He shuffled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, hiding his face into the collar of your jacket. "Carry me the rest of the way."

You gave him another laugh, "You should be the one carrying me." You untangled yourself from his grasp and bent your knees. "Hop on, Spidey. I'll piggyback you. It's only two more blocks."

His amused giggle filled you with joy, "I'll squish you."

"Give it a try! I'm stronger than you think."

Peter didn't question you further and he carefully hopped up onto your back with a kind of grace that only Spider-Man could manage. The second his weight hit you, you took a few running steps forward to keep your balance, before quickly finding your footing again. He wasn't as heavy as you thought he'd be but it was still a struggle to stay up right.

You gave a grunt and attempted to stumble onward to your destination, "Alright. I got this."

His laughter filled your ear and tickled your cheek as he nuzzled his head next to yours, "I'm impressed you didn't immediately fall flat on your face. I should travel like this more often."

You responded with another grunt, struggling to get any words out as you concentrated on not dropping him. The two of you made it approximately one full block before your legs gave out. Peter jumped off and wrapped a protective arm around your waist right before your knees could hit the concrete.

"Careful," he warned with a smile. He steadied you back on your feet and planted a kiss to the top of your head. "I told you I would squish you. Come here, it's my turn now."

He bent down nice and low for you to scramble onto his back instead. You clambered on top of him, a lot less graceful than he had been getting onto yours, and wrapped your legs around his waist. He hoisted you up higher with ease and started a steady jog down the street.

"Now you're just showing off," you rolled your eyes but smiled as you tighten your grip around his neck.

"I'm making up for the lost time. It took you a solid five minutes to walk one block. Slowest horse I've ever ridden."

You gently slapped his chest in protest, saying sarcastically, "You ride a lot of horses, Peter? And, relationship tip, never refer to your partner as a horse."

He chuckled, "Yeah, the second it came out of my mouth, I regretted my choice of words." He slowed his jog as he approached the party. "Oh god, I can hear the music already. Terrible choice. Awful music. Let's go back home instead."

You couldn't hear what he could but you tried to protest, "No, we came all this way. Your antisocial behavior and disagreement on music choice is not an excuse to miss out on our friend's party."

You felt him tighten his grip around your legs and could see the glint of a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Who's riding who?" He asked.

"What are you talking ab-"

Before you could finish the question, he spun around and started a swift walk back in the direction you came.

"Peter!" You gasped.

"This horse says that it's time to go home. You have to be better at controlling your animals if you want them to listen to you!" He quickened his step. "Hold on tight."

He didn't have to tell you twice for you to know what was about to happen. You tightened your arms around his neck and braced yourself for the inevitable jerk as he shot the two of you up into the air. Taking the time to get dressed up, just to skip out on your friend's party right as you arrived, wasn't the sort of disappointment you would have felt a few years ago. Instead, you were relieved as the wind tossed back your hair and you clung to your boyfriend's back. Even hurdling 50 feet above the ground, you felt safe tucked against him. If Peter didn't feel comfortable being somewhere, he would simply just not go. It was a quality you had learned to admire about him even if it often led to moments like this.

"Promise me that the music was actually insufferable and that we would have had a terrible time," you shouted over the wind whistling in your ear.

He nodded, calling back, "They were playing Cotton Eyed Joe, babe. I promise you, this is for our own sanity. I'm saving you from a night of pain."

"Ew," you grumbled. "Fine but at least swing us to the nice Mexican restaurant instead. We look cute. Let's not waste it. Might as well make use of our night."

"One sexy, hot date night, coming right up!"

[avocado-writing]

not sure if youre open yet for touching reqs but #1 (foreheads touching) with tangerine gn reader plz thanks have a great day!

touching foreheads

“Breathe with me.“

You can feel the thunder of Tangerine’s heart just from when you take his hand. Train stations. He’s not good in them, not any more anyway. Not since Tokyo. And now, at the entrance to Waterloo, he’s frozen fucking solid at the prospect of going in amongst the heaving swell of bodies. 

His eyes are wide as they dart back and forth, palms covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Jaw set tightly but it doesn’t hide his shaking. You take your face in your grasp until he looks at you; then you press your forehead to his, the tips of your noses bumping together. 

“Breathe with me, babe,” you encourage. In for four, hold for four, out for eight. You inhale with him. Ignore the people giving you dirty looks as they pass. Right now, it’s only the two of you, and as you feel him eventually relax as he follows your instructions. 

Just the two of you. That’s all that matters. 

[heartorbit]

the narcissist fools himself

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Touch Starved Prompts

It was strange to touch each other without one of them dying, but maybe touch was also something for the living.

Like magnets they moved together, pressing into each other's warmth.

There always needed to be a reason, an excuse for their bodies to touch.

Being touch-starved and needy was really starting to mess with their reputation as a tough guy.

It was like their skin was calling out for the other's gentle touch.

They didn't like to be touched by just anyone. But that didn't mean they didn't also crave it sometimes.

A coldness took over their body that only the warmth of another person could erase.

They wanted to be touched, to be missed, to be loved. Was that too much to ask for?

Leaning onto each other, just being close, was enough.

Their bodies fitting together like they always were intended to become one.

[distracted-obsessions]

Living Weapon Whumpee having a bad day after one of the missions and finding the team they're assigned to sitting around and playing cards. Whumpee getting down on their knees next to one of the team members and hesitantly resting their head against the team member's thigh. Whumpee silently begging to be pet like a dog or at least just allowed to say here because they just haven't positive, non-painful human contact in years and they're just... cold.

Bonus points if they choose the member of the team that hates them the worst because that's the one they feel the biggest need to please.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny crawled down the aisle of the GAV, his stomach churning with every sharp turn and honest to ancients barrel rolls his parents suped up war car was doing while speeding down Gothams city streets.

He didn't think it was possible for anyone to be a worse driver than his dad, but it turned out the GAVs own Ai was powered by ectoplasm.

Who would have thought ectoplasm could be affected by Scarecrows Fear Toxin? Not Danny.

So now here he is, lying on the floor of his parents' car as its firing missiles and lazers, and the Bats are trying to beat it up.

The GAVs ring tone suddenly rang through the air, and Danny had never been so grateful to hear a Katty Perry song in his life. Hoping it was his mom calling so he would be rescued from this nightmare, he yelled out, "Answer!"

"Hello," an unfamiliar robotic voice chimed in from the speakers. Okay, so not his mom.

"Hello." He replied without thinking, his Midwestern hospitality kicking in despite no one actually being in here with him. "How can I help you?"

"Are you able to stop the machine?" Oh, so it's straight to business. Danny could respect that. "No. All the controls are on the fritz. But I think I know what caused this." He didn't give her a chance to respond before he continued, "There was a leak in the fuel line under the GAV. All my parents' tech runs on ectoplasm, which is sensitive to emotions."

"The fear toxin." The voice was still mechanical but held an undercurrent of realization, "You're a meta," the voice stated, though Danny had no idea how they knew. Scratch that. He had used his powers in Gotham a few times already. Guess the bats really do see everything, huh. "Can't you use your density sifting ability to get under the vehicle and fly underneath to repair the damage? I've seen you work on your parents' weapons before."

Danny laughed mirthlessly, "No, the GAV is specifically designed to have energy shields that I can't pass through. Besides,the problem isn't actually the leak. It's the fear. If you could force a new emotion into the ectoplasm, it might override the fear, and while I have many abilities, the Care Bear Stare isn't one of them."