#peter parker fandom

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

Can you make a story where dark Peter uses a vibrator on the fem!reader till she squirts and shakes and fucks her till she's cock dumb

yaaa ya ya

THE TEASE- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Darkish! Peter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 750

Warnings: SMUT, squirting, over stimulation, use of vibrator on reader, biting, degradation kink, darkish stalker content, choking, pet names, peter finishing inside causes he has a breeding kink

“This is your fault.” he whispered, hand tightening around your neck the vibrator buzzed against your swollen bud.

A gasp torn between a moan escaped your lips as his hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, before he gave it a little bite.

“You just had to be such a little tease, with that slutty little skirt of yours.” he growled gaze slipping down to where he held the toy, watching as your ankles dug into the sheets as you attempted to get away from the overwhelming sensations.

It was getting harder and harder to think, and you could barely focus on his words as he coaxed them in your ear.

“I was watching you today, you know. But you didn't see me- did you? No, no too focused on that little lecture hm?” he pressed, rubbing the vibrator in little circular sensations against your clit as you moaned and panted.

It was a mix between pleasure and pain- what he was giving you, and the lines seemed to be blurring over one another the longer you felt your body uncontrollably shake.

“Peter I’m sorry-” you gasped, clawing at his hand down by your cunt, but it wouldn't budge. Peter had you pinned down and spread open- just the way he wanted you.

Vulnerable and alone, for him. He deserved you. You just weren't focused enough on him to notice that.

“You are eh? Cute.”

“I am!” you protested, the whiney tone in your voice rewarded with his hand tightening around your airway. He knew just how to choke you properly, just squeezing the sides of your neck gently.

He had done his research after all, he didn’t want you passing out on him yet. He had so much to tell you.

Still, whether it was from the pressure of the stimulation, your vision began to go fuzzy around the edges. He tsked, shaking his head mockingly as he heard your breaths quicken, knowing you were getting close.

“Listen to how wet you are angel. Your cunnie gettin all messy sweets?” Peter asked gently, making your squeeze your eyes shut, as if you were bracing yourself for what was coming.

His smile turned evil, mocking, and you hated him for it. You hated how well he knew your body and how to tease you, making the rubber band in your core snap past its breaking point.

Every single time he pushed you, and every single time you broke harder than before.

“No, no please.” you begged, yet your words were useless. With a little twist of his wrist, the toy hit just the right spot, the eye contact he gave you the final push to send you over the edge.

You screamed, begging him as the orgasm washed over you. “Shh, shh just let it happen, princess. You need to stop fighting it.” he cooed, hand releasing from your neck to stroke your cheek, a stray tear lingering on the heated skin.

Wetness squirted from you, spraying over the sheets and Peter's hand as you mindlessly babbled to him, your words slurring together as your legs shook harder.

“Atta girl. Attaa girl.” he smiled, removing the toy from its place, setting it down before he pressed a hand down on your lower abdomen to steady you.

“Peter I can't– anymore-” you panted, words coming out between gasps as you attempted to catch your breath.

“You don't have to, but m’gonna use you for a bit okay? Just rest, let me use your princess parts.” he whispered, positioning himself despite your sleepy protests, hands coming up to claw around his biceps.

“Sensitive.” you moaned, body jerking as he wasting no time slipping inside of you, stretching you out around him as he threw his head back and moaned in pleasure- ignoring you.

“You're getting what you deserve. You're supposed to be used angel. But only from me.” he smiled sweetly, grip tightening on your thighs as he spread your legs further apart, watching as your own hands slipped down to palm your tits.

“You like this, don’t you, angel? Just a lil dumb baby, can't think for herself eh?” You nodded, moaning as he sank deeper, brushing up against your g-spot.

“Just not- not inside mkay?” you requested softly, head falling slack against the sheets as sleep spread through your bones. “Whatever you say angel.” he smirked smugly, knowing your request go un funfilled.

Oh well, he thought, beginning to piston into you for his own pleasure. Oh well.

#peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker spiderman #peter parker smut #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x fem #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x oc #peter parker fandom #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #andrew!peter fanfiction #andrew!peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #andrew spiderman #andrew garfield #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter fluff #andrew!peter smut #tasm fic #tasm smut #tasm fanfiction #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!spiderman x you #the amazing spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #the amazing spiderman 2 #tasm

[xtom-darling-x17]

You and Tom or Peter have sex but he didn’t know you was a virgin until you bled and he felt bad not knowing as he would’ve been more carful. Lots of after care after.

Anything For My Princess

Pairing - Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - You are a virgin, while Peter has more experience. You are embarrassed about it, therefore you have sex with Peter without telling him that You are a virgin!

Warnings - Smut 18+ (Loss of virginity, bleeding, Praise kink, Protected sex) 

A/N - Thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy! Much appreciation to the love and support 🥰

P.S requests are currently closed at the moment, if you send one in. Please note that it will probably not get done for a long time. I am writing all my requests up at the moment, that I have now.

“Get on the bed baby,” Peter squeezed your thigh as you whimper, you go on the plushie bed. 

“Let me have a taste of that pussy, Darling,” Peter smirked as he tugged your skirt up, “Your not wearing any panties, Mm such a naughty girl! Baby,”

“Peter,” You moaned as his tongue hit your clit, up and down flicking its way down your pussy.

Peter suckles on the sensitive nerves, having your hips jolt up, he pushes your hips down.

“Be a good girl for me, baby,” Peter slipped a finger into you, “That’s it, baby! Such a good girl,” As he puts another finger into you.

“God, so fucking tight!” Peter grunted as he finger fucks your walls, you didn’t let out a key detail that you are indeed a virgin.

“Mm, feel so good! Peter, please Fuck me!” Wanting it over with, you really wanted to feel his cock into your pussy.

“Be patient, I’m going to make you cream all over my tongue and fingers,” Peter hushed you as he put his tongue on your clit again.

Going deep down your region, “Peter, more! Fuck, I’m going to cum! Pls make me cum,” You screamed as you came.

Peter moaned into your pussy, riding out your high as he puts a condom on! 

“Such a good girl, for me. Aren’t you? Princess,” Peter whispers into your ear as he makes you sit down on his lap.

“Awe, does the baby want my cock?” Peter smirks, you nod, “Yes please, please fuck me!” You feel your core getting more wet as Peter teased your entrance.

Peter moves you on your back, so he can get a better position into fucking you. He can feel your pussy creaming up around him.

“Going to fuck you good and hard, Darling!” Peter promised, you was way too into it before you could tell him your a virgin.

Peter pushes his large, cock into your little hole, “Awe, do you like that?” Peter kisses you as you moan. He does let you adjust to his cock for a few seconds.

“Yes, I love it Peter,” You moan into the kiss, Peter slams his hips into yours as you roll your eyes back.

“Mm, So fucking Good!” You whimper out, Peter took that as a sign that he isn’t hurting you.

He opens your legs a bit more, holding you securely as he slides his large, Harding cock in and out of your tight, slit.

“Taking my cock, so we’ll! Baby, such a good girl,” Peter grunted, pushing deeper and harder into your pretty, little tight core.

He takes one hand and massages your boob for comfort as he fucks you into the bed.

“Yes, Mm love your cock, Petey!” You moaned out, barely getting any words out!

“You close baby?” Peter sees the signs as your close, your pussy clutching around him more and your cute face all scrunched up.

“Mm, Peter,” You nodded, “I’m gonna,” You moaned, “I’m gonna cum,”

“Cum for me, Princess!” Peter rubbed your tummy and boob as he fucks you through your high.

When he feels you cum, it sends his cock to release his own high too.

“You good? Baby,” Peter asked, kissing you on your pretty, lips, “Yh,” You smiled.

Peter pulled out, but as he was doing that. He gasped, “We’re you a virgin, Darling?” asking softly, as he looks really guilty.

Peter sees blood over his sheets, where you lay.

You nod as you let a few tears slip out, “I’m sorry,”

“No, no Darling! It’s ok, your ok, You should of told me, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even release,” Peter explained, holding you into his arms.

“I was going to but I got scared,” You whispered, “As your so experienced and I’m not, I guess it was embarrassing to mention,”

“Baby, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you felt like that.. I would of gone much more careful and gentle with you,” Peter kisses the top of your forehead, wiping the tears away from your eyes, “You lay there and I’ll sort everything out, ok?”

“Ok,” You whimper, nodding.

Peter got up to change into a new pair of clothes, to get you some clothes and even brand new bed covers.

“Sh, Sh, Darling! It’s ok,” Peter got an idea, “Do you want me to run you a nice, hot bath?” He suggests as your still naked.

“That would be nice,” You nodded.

Peter went into the bathroom to quickly pour you a bath with bubbles and your favourite scent. Feeling bad about not knowing that you was a virgin!

“The bath is ready, can I pick you up?” Peter asks, “yep, Petey,” You giggle as he lifts you up.

Placing you into the bath, Peter smiles.

“You coming in?” You pout..

“I will if you want me to, Darling,” he states.

You tug his hand into the bath suggesting to come in or else.

“Ok, ok,” Peter chuckles, undressing himself as he slips in behind you.

You sigh into relieve as you lean against Peter’s warm, toned, chest.

“Your really, comfortable,” You giggle, “Do you want me to wash you, Baby?” He asked as he peppers kisses all along your shoulders and collarbone.

“Yh, that would be heavenly,” You mumble, closing your eyes and taking into Peter’s embrace around your waist.

“Anything for my princess!” Peter whispers, Kissing your cheek as he starts work on your back with your sponge and (fave) soap.

“Mm, That tickles! Petey,” You giggle, forgetting all about the pain down there.

“My bad,” Peter chuckles, “It’s fun to tickle you, my love,” he has a cheeky, grin on him.

“I don’t know what, your grinning about,” You shook your head, you can feel his smile against your wet skin.

“You look so beautiful,” Peter mumbles, leading yet another trail of kisses along your skin.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Parker!” You winked, teasing him.

“Let me, wash your hair,” Peter grabbed the shampoo, scrubbing it against into your scalp as you hummed contently.

“Feels relaxing,” You mumble, smiling, “I would hope so!” Peter smiles.

Soon after, he rinsed it off and put conditioner on, “Hey, please don’t ever feel like you can’t say anything to me again! Because honestly, you can and I’m so sorry that you thought couldn’t tell me that you was a virgin,” Peter rambled on.

“Peter, it’s ok! Your looking after me aren’t you?” You lean into him more as he rinses the conditioner off your head, “Yh because I love you so much, Darling,” Peter blushed saying those words.

“Your so sweet, Peter Parker!” You turn around to kiss him right on his lips, passionately, “And I love you so much too, Petey,” You say in between kisses.

After you bath, Peter got out first to wrap a towel around you and empty the bath.

He gave you his clothes to wear seeing that you love them because they are so comfortable.

Then he changes his bed covers, putting them in the wash.

“Here, Baby,” Peter smiles, giving you painkillers to ease the pain between your legs, “Thanks,”

He got in bed with you, you snuggle into him as he covers you both up.

“Your so warm and cozy,” you sigh into his embrace.

“You too, Princess,” Peter kisses your forehead, he turns on the tv for you to watch Netflix.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fandom #tomhollandfan #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker fandom #peter parker fluff #tom peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker

[bubblessunshinehoney]

Date Night (peter parker)

1018 words

A/N: imagine a date night in Central Park with Peter. Him being fluffy and romantic, loving to spend time with you. There's mention of Tony stark so it's mcu Peter Parker, but could work for the 3 of them.

Enjoy, cloudy !

Don't be shy, reblog, comment and like !

TW: fluffy oh so fluffy and little innuendos of sex

Date night, I love them. And with Peter it’s almost a miracle when we can have one without being interrupted by some superhero’s duty. Well, most of the time we must cancel it, but today is the day! Tony assured me that if something had to happen, we were not going to be called. And I was almost ready to sign a contract to prove it.

It’s the end of summer. The air is still nice, but when the sun goes down it starts to get chilly. I am wearing my favourite dress. The one that make me feel like the sexiest badass bitch alive. But none of my sweats or jacket are nice with it. So not to be bold, I just didn’t bring any with me… I secretly want to steal one of Peter sweatshirt.

“Hey Y/N”, calls Peter. I turn around and he jogs to me. He’s hair are curled, and his smile give me butterflies. “Hey Pete”, I say. He kisses my cheek and takes my hand. “You ready for our date night?” he asks shily. We’re dating for like six months, but he always gets shy when we start our dates. I nod and bring him close to me to kiss his lips. I feel him smile against mine and we get to the restaurant.

See, dating Peter has been easy. We get along and I love to hear him talk about science stuff even if sometimes I am lost. He got these little sparkling eyes when is passionate and it is truly the cutest thing on earth. His all being is the cutest thing on earth. “What are you looking at? Have I something in between my teeth?”, I laugh, and he blushes, “No Peter, I was just thinking that my boyfriend is cute when he’s passionate.” With wide eyes, Peter looks at me and drink some of his wine to hide that he’s a little bit flustered. “Well, my girlfriend is the most beautiful of all.” He says back.

Yeah, I doubted that for a while. When I started college, everyone was talking about the cute scientist. And never in a million years I thought that he’ll fall for me. But here we are in a fancy restaurant on a Saturday night.

“You know, I never thought you’ll go out with me” confesses Peter. It’s my turn to look at him with wide eyes. “Well, me too…”. He frowns his brows before asking me “so you think that I, Peter Benjamin Parker was out of your league?”, I drink some of my wine and then I say the truth “yes, you know all girls have a crush on you, you’re the cute scientist with puppy eyes and a smile brighter than the sun.”

“cheesy” he mutters. “I mean it Peter, you’re so oblivious of that, but Gwen wanted to ask you out and even this girl… Mantis”. “Gwen and Mantis?” he almost chokes on his chicken and I just nod. “whooo, ok.” He continues to eat, but I see the wheels turning in his brain. “Well, to bad for them, you’re the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Never in a million years I thought you’ll fall for me”. I take his hand before saying “but here we are”, “yeah here we are” murmurs Peter.

I didn’t say the L-word yet. Peter has. Like three weeks ago, but I just kissed him with all my heart, and he told me that he wasn’t expecting me to say it back. I do love him; I am just incapable to say it out loud. For now.

The evening is wonderful. Peter is endearing and for once since we start to date… no superhero’s duty. I must not forget to thank Tony Stark.

We are walking in central park. “Did you bring a jacket with you?” asks Peter. “Nope. But I am ok”. He narrows his at me, and I just smile. Maybe I am getting cold, but I won’t say anything. “You should have” he says under his breath. I kiss him and he holds me close. His warmth gets me chill, but it is worth it. Maybe I will be in his arm for the rest of the night… hopefully I am horny after all.

After our walk, we decide to go to my appartement. My roommates are out of town for the weekend. When we enter my home, I shudder, and I glance at Peter.

"It's so cold. I think you'll have to warm me up." I said huskily.

"I told you to bring a jacket!"

This man, this man is so oblivious. Since the beginning of the date, I send him hints. Many hints. From the little glance, the little touches here and there. Some kisses under his jaw, my arms around his torso, waist and EVEN my hand in his back pocket.

“Really Parker?” I see in his eyes that he’s searching why I am calling him by his last name. I never do that, well only when I am annoyed at him. “What, I told you this morning to bring a jacket because I know you get cold easily.” Ok, my boyfriend is cute and careful. He starts to take his hoody off and I can’t stop myself to giggle. “What now?”, “Well, my Pete… I hope you’ll continue to strip for me, because I am not ready to put that hoodie on for now.”,

“you’re not cold?” he asks innocently.

Oblivious, I said? Terrible at innuendos my friends.

“Peter… I want You to warm me up.” He puts his hoodie on the sofa and then eureka, he gets the hint. “Oh, you mean that warm up?”, “yeah I want to have sex, Peter”. He’s red as a tomato, and rock back and forth on his feet. I nod and wait for him to make a move. After a few minutes (maybe seconds, but still too long) he takes a step forward and put his hands on my hips. “Sorry for being such a nerd even with that.”, “what can I say, that’s why I love you.”

#peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fandom #mcu peter parker #college!peter parker #tom holland fandom #peter parker fluff #peter parker date #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #rooting fluff #date night

[upindreamland]

I'll forever love you... - Peter Parker

Peter Parker x fem!reader (she/her pronouns) text imagine

Summary: Loving someone comes with sacrifices. Who would have thought that sacrifice would be ending your relationship... (angst)

Warnings: Mention of cheating (but gets kind of better at the end). Let me know if I missed anything.

AN: Wow... well I wrote this when I was going through a similar situation so this hits close to home. I hope you enjoy!

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AN: Well that's it. I hope you enjoyed reading. As always let me know what you thought. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated. Thanks!

#upindreamlandfile #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #spiderman #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fandom #Peter Parker #angst #fake texts #peter parker fake text #imagines #text imagine #Peter Parker Fan Fic #peter parker one shot #peter parker oneshot #MJ #peter parker x mj #peter parker x fem!reader #tom holland imagine #zendeya #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #peter parker x fem #tom!peter parker #tom!spiderman #tom!peter x reader #mcu #mcu fic #marvel

[iridescentparkers]

hi!

i know it’s been a while but i missed this page and pretty soon I will update you on what’s to come!

thank you to those who still support my work!

cj <3

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fandom #spiderman x you #peter parker blurb #spiderman #spider man #peter parker smut #peter x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman angst #tasm #tasm!peter parker #peter parker fanfic #spiderman homecoming

[mysteriouslover1516]

Not in the Cards

After the events of No Way Home, Peter 2 returns back to his own universe, meditating on what Peter 1 told him. (And yes, No Way Home brought back my obsession for Andrew Garfield)

“I lost...I lost Gwen.”

Peter Parker sat at the top of the Empire State Building, mask in his hand, the cool night air whipping through brown hair. It had been over a month since the phenomenon of the multiverse was unraveled. Everyone had returned to their own separate universe and timeline, something which he still found hard to wrap his mind around. New York was exactly how he had left it; Dr. Connors still in prison and Max declared dead. That’s where it got confusing though, didn’t they cure everyone before they returned to their timeline? Did that mean other variants of these people were still alive somehow? After all, if the multiverse was possible, then anything was.

“Gwen, she…she was my MJ.”

It had been seven years since Gwen Stacy’s death, but every minute detail was destined to be forever embedded in Peter’s mind. The sound of the web snapping rang in his ears, the glistening tears in her eyes a constant reminder of how much trust she had placed in him, the sickening thud of her head hitting the concrete; all these things were a constant reminder of how he had failed to protect her. He had promised her father he’d stay away from Gwen in order to keep her safe, but in his own selfishness he had broken his last dying wish, ultimately killing the captain’s daughter as well. 

“I couldn't save her. I'm never gonna be able to forgive myself for that.”

Many nights he spent reliving the nightmare in his head, watching it as if in slow-motion. The web grabbing her waist, the short feeling of relief rushing over him, then the gut-wrenching sound of her neck and spine undoubtedly snapping, her head soon hitting the ground. It wasn’t the head trauma that had killed Gwen, it was him. He had killed her, snapped her neck, rendering her dead before she even touched the ground. It was his fault she had died.

“But I carried on. Tried to...tried to keep going. Tried to keep being the...... friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, because I know that's what she would have wanted.”

Peter hadn’t expected for it to end this way, in his head he was still imagining him and Gwen living a happily ever after together. How could he bring himself to save others when he couldn’t even save the love of his life? It was another one of life’s cruel jokes, as if Fate himself was mocking him.

“But...at some point, I just...I stopped pulling my punches. I got rageful. I got bitter.”

After a while he found it harder to show mercy, his self-control snapping more and more often. It was easy to punish those in the wrong, to give them what they deserved, it felt good to strip the life from their very bones. For a time he had simply gone crazy, blood lust going to his head, he grew ruthless, wanting the guilty to suffer.

“I just don't want you, to end up like...like me.”

It grew almost impossible to reign in his emotions, to see through the red lenses that had become his vision. The children on the streets who always cheered for him started to grow afraid, not knowing if Spiderman was actually protecting them. He had become a monster, the citizens no longer felt safe in New York. The realization of what he had become suddenly shocked him into reality. It had been hard to get his life together, to reign in his emotions, but he had succeeded, triumphed.

“You have someone?”

“No. I got no time for Peter Parker stuff. You know?”

Deep down he knew that wasn’t the actual truth, he had plenty of time being a twenty-four-yr-old photographer. The actual truth was that the thought of falling in love and losing someone again scared the absolute crap out of him. He didn’t think he could handle the reality of having his heart ripped out once more.

“I guess it's just not in the cards for guys like us.”

Heroes never got the girl, and even if they did, it rarely worked out or lasted. Whether it was a breakup or death, hearts still shattered and there was no way to numb the pain.

“Well…I wouldn't give up. Took a while, but...we made it work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He knew the older and wiser version of himself meant it to be encouraging, but somehow all it managed to do was dishearten him. The older and wiser Peter had been successful in his relationship, he and his MJ, Gwen, had made it work.

He watched as MJ fell from the Statue of Liberty, the wind whipping through her hair, the panic in her eyes evident, but no sound came out. He faintly registered himself saying No as he lept after her, Not Again.

In that moment he had redeemed himself, he was able to spare his younger version the pain that came from losing a soulmate.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

Peter had been too speechless to answer, too overcome with emotion to form words, all he could do was nod his head, desperately trying to hold back his tears. He had saved MJ the way he should have saved Gwen. He had learned from his past mistake, he had caught her in his arms. Was this what redemption felt like?

Maybe it’s time to date again, to look for someone new. It had been seven years since Gwen’s death, she would have wanted him to move on, right?

That thought still stabbed him in the gut, chest heaving with pain at the very idea. It felt like betraying her, letting her die all over again. If she couldn’t be with him physically, the least he could do was preserve the memory of her in his heart, right? He shook his head, Gwen wouldn’t have agreed with that, she would have wanted him to go on with his life. She’d want him to be happy. He owed it to her to oblige her wishes, he needed to move on, he was GOING to move on. Peter sighed as he stood up, stretching his limbs in front of him, it was time to patrol the streets again.

Hey lovelies! Leave reviews for a part 2? Thanks for reading! :)

#andrew garfield #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm 2 #tasm!peter x you #tasm andrew garfield #afternowayhome #i love you andrew #marvel #marvel fandom #spiderman #spiderman fandom #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fandom

[iamaboredpotatonugget]

Peter Parker Fics that are well written and have the same Angsty vibe

In the beginning, he had struggled to understand why bad things kept happening to him. His parents, Ben- oh god, May…

(“How do you live with yourself after all that you’ve done? After you’ve driven your whole family to death?”)

It wasn’t long until he was forced to come to the conclusion that it was him that was the problem.

(“You should rid the world of your curse before someone else ends up dead.”)

And it hurt, and he felt himself drifting closer and closer to agreeing with Flash every day— but he was selfish, and ignorant, and so, so, weak. He wanted so badly to protect the ones he loved from harm after all that he had lost, but God dammit he was happy and he had a family and he loved them so much that he just couldn’t bring himself to leave.

(“Everyone would be better off without you.”)

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I uh… I fell down the stairs.”

They can’t know.

If Peter's an idiot for not telling anyone he's feeling a little under the weather (an understatement of the century), the Avengers must be pretty damn stupid for not realizing that Peter's spiraling mood is more than some "teen angst."

Peter only knows how to be empty or overflowing. Nothing in between.

Flash Thompson is a dickhead.

Everyone knows it, yet somehow Peter is the one that always gets called Penis. Everyone always laughs at Flash’s jokes about Peter, takes his side over Peter’s, likes him better than Peter. And if Flash Thompson is a dickhead and no one really likes him…

Surely one can imagine where that leaves Peter.

It’s okay,” Peter promises them softly. “I get it. I wouldn’t want me as a teammate either. It’s okay, I know what you need to do. I get it.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow, and she asks him, “And what do you think we need to do, Peter?” like it’s a threat. Like if he says the wrong thing, she’ll pounce. But he knows the answer to this question and god, they’re going to make him spell it out for them, aren’t they?

“You need to kick me off the team.”

Peter takes a beating, Bucky cleans him up.

Featuring concerned Steve and warm, oversized pajamas covered in sheep.

They don't always show it, but they've each got their own demons to battle. Peter keeps happening upon these battles.

While checking Peter over in the medbay bruce discovers neat rows of scars that march their way up the back of peter's thighs. The thought of Peter young and small as he is making the same mistakes Bruce did, hating himself the way Bruce still sometimes does, makes his stomach roll. He knows he has to tell tony. And he knows he isn't gonna take it well.

Peter breaks three toes and hits his head hard against concrete. There’s a steadily bleeding wound in his side that he’s staunched with his webbing and tries not to acknowledge it when it burns.

He can still walk in a straight line, which is good.

He’s starving and tired and cold.

It’s been fifteen hours.

Peter never wanted this. He didn’t ask for the entire team to breathe down his neck whenever he eats, or to insist that he reaches some absurd goal weight when he’s perfectly fine where he’s at. He doesn’t need to change.

He just needs to stop day dreaming about killing himself. It’s getting distracting.

#fanfic #fanfic rec #ao3 link #ao3 recs #fandom #fanfiction reccomendations #avengers fanfiction #avengers fandom #avengers family #the avengers #domestic avengers #spider man fanfiction #spiderman #angst with a happy ending #angst #peter parker #tw in the tags #peter parker fandom #peter parker fanfiction #hurt/comfort

[izzylovesyou2022]

The Poet And The Beat~ TASM!GUITARIST!Peter Parker

Plot: Peter meets Evie, a poet looking to make a name in a new town. He’s a guitarist looking for a new start. They won’t fall in love.....or willll they?

Tropes: friends to lovers, guitarist!au, poet!au

Evie Cast knew too much about writing to be called a beginner. After all, she’d been writing since the age of seven. She’d published a book of poems when she turned twelve.

Unfortunately, the world didn’t treat her like her friends did. Her rounded face made her look too young for most publishers. Evie was young for publishing standards, having just turned eighteen six months ago. Not that she really cared what people thought of her. She’d publish on Amazon if she had too.

Little detailed snowflakes slipped into her hair and blanketed the ground as she walked along the streets of New York.

Evie had moved here from a small town in upper New York. She’d dreamed of living in the big city her whole life and she jumped at the chance to work at a newspaper firm as an editor.

As Evie moved along, carefully watching her step, her thoughts wandered to a new book she’d been editing for the last few weeks. Nature being one of her favorite subjects, she believed it was high time she published a book about it.

As so often happened when her brain wandered to thoughts of poetry, Evie lost track of her surroundings. She’d stopped paying attention to where she stepped and didn’t notice the large mark of ice until it was too late.

Up went her legs into the air as her arms twirled, trying hard to catch herself. Evie winced as she braced herself for impact with the cold surface but got quite the shock when she felt a pair of strong arms embracing her instead.

“Hey, you gotta be careful on these streets. Are you alright, cookie?”

Any other day, Evie would’ve been pissed at a guy calling her a nickname like that, but she allowed herself to be wrapped up in the warmth of the voice saying it and dared to look at him.

A pair of hazel brown eyes that looked like a nice cup of hot chocolate were locked on hers, a concerned frown tugging at his lips. She observed brown waves of hair sticking out under a royal blue beanie and the gold flash of a chain around his neckline.

“Oh, um, yes, thanks to you,” Evie breathed, steadying herself against him as he placed her back on his feet. His muscles heaved under her fingers and she had a quick flash of how those arms would feel wrapped around her in another way.

“I’m Peter,” the boy offered, flashing Evie a sweet smile that could’ve melted her into a puddle on the spot if she hadn’t been shaken up.

Evie licked her lips in an attempt to swallow her shock and gave Peter a smile in return.

“Evie. Evie Cast.”

She noticed a flash of something....maybe familiarity....spark across Peter’s haunting hazel eyes and noticed his hands reaching for the straps of his backpack.

“Weren’t you the girl that published a poetry book when you were 12?”

Evie stared and nearly choked in complete shock. How had he even come across her book? She didn’t even think it had made its way to the “Big Apple!” Wait....had he read her book? If he’d read her book, she’d pass out right here on the sidewalk.

“Um, yeah, I was.”

Peter suddenly took her by the elbow and steered her in the direction of a nearby coffee shop. Evie went along with it, mostly because her brain had short-circuited too much to ask any questions.

That her book might have actually been read by people living in the biggest city in the country was made than she could handle. And the cute boy next to her might have read it! How was she going to get through the rest of the day?

The blast of warmth from the coffee shop tore Evie from her reverie and she gasped in a huge breath of air, thankful to be out of the cold.

Her eyes wandered around the room as Peter steered her towards the counter. At the table right next to the counter was a man not much older than herself. His pen tapped along the rings of his notebook as he whispered to himself. He must’ve been talking himself through his next writing, Evie thought.

In the far corner of the shop stood a black bookshelf with tons and tons of books. Evie hoped there might be an Emily Dickinson or Walt Whitman novel waiting for her to open.

“Hey, cookie? Do you know what you want to drink?”

This time, it was Peter’s voice that withdrew Evie from her daydream and forced her attention upward towards the menu hanging on the ceiling.

“Just a hot chocolate for me, thank you,” she told the worker as she dug into her purse for her wallet.

She had just placed her golden yellow wallet up onto the counter and made a movement to withdraw her card when the clucking of a tongue caught her attention.

“Tsk, Tsk, cookie. The man always pays on the first date.”

Evie opened her mouth to protest but one quick glance into those hazel eyes and all arguments flew out the window. This was so unfair. She wasn’t supposed to be tongue tied. After all, she’d been using words all over the place her entire life. But this devil named Peter Parker somehow snatched away her ability to say a word.

She swallowed hard and shook her head to clear it as Peter handed her the drink.

“You’re not normally this tongue-tied, are you, cookie?”

Evie managed to find her words and regain control of herself as she and Peter took seats near a wide window near the front of the cafe.

“No, Peter, I’m not. Can I ask why you pulled me into the cafe?”

She eyed Peter with an arched eyebrow and smiled around her cup when his face painted cherry red.

“Well,” he began, fumbling with his cup in an attempt to avoid Evie’s eyes, “I’ve always wanted to meet you. You just have a way with words that could really fit in with my music.”

A thoughtful hum exited her mouth and she lowered her cup, steam swirling from the open lid.

“You’re a guitarist, then?”

Peter looked down at the table and slowly nodded.

“And you would like to have me as a song writer.”

Peter’s eyes widened to an almost bizarre amount as he finally gathered the courage to lock eyes with her. Could this girl actually read his mind?

“Yeah.”

A smirk played at the edge’s of Evie’s lips as she tossed the purple straight hair away from her eyes. Song writing was not so different than poetry writing. She’d done both but found that, basically, they were one in the same. Except lyrics had music behind it.

“When do you want me to start?”

*******************************************************************************************

Fate felt very determined to pull Peter and Evie together. They’d run into each other more times than could be counted in that next week. They’d spent most of that week discussing the song over text and phone calls. Most of those phone calls were interrupted by shouts from Peter’s Aunt May about one thing or another, but Evie couldn’t really say she minded all that much.

“Have you given a lot of thought to the melody yet, Pete,” she asked on a snowy Saturday afternoon at the same coffee shop. Their table bore two different notebooks: one was Peter’s and the other was Evie’s.

Peter’s red guitar case leaned against the window still. He’d been fingering with the zipper, lost in thought until Evie’s question brought him back to reality.

“I kinda have something but it’s not exactly finalized, ya know?”

Evie hummed and glanced down at the words she had written down. Peter wasn’t expecting perfection, she knew that, but she’d started caring enough for Peter over that last week that she wanted his song to be a marvel.

She eyed Peter’s guitar case and, with great finality, slammed her notebook shut.

“Let me see your guitar, Pete.”

If Peter in anyway felt confused or concerned at the sudden eagerness in Evie’s voice, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he simply did as she asked and took the guitar it’s case.

The once clean guitar held dents and scars from years of being played. A particularly nasty dent lay right near the bottom guitar string (the “E” string), but in their eyes, a guitar sounded much much better as an older, imperfect instrument.

“What do you have in mind there, cookie,” he asked, sitting up much straighter in his chair than he had been.

Evie paid no mind to his question and swayed in her seat as she delicately plucked each string. Her slender fingers danced over the strings as her booted foot tapped lightly against the floor. She hadn’t told Peter that she had once played the guitar before she gave it up due to writing taking her main focus.

She stared down at her closed notebook and shivered. The thought of picking up guitar again moved something inside her. Like her heart screamed at her to go back to the days of playing the guitar and writing little songs.

“I’m thinking we should do an acoustic song, Pete. Something beautiful that will draw people in,” she decided, tilting her head at Peter as her fingers played with the strings.

Peter’s lips quirked dangerously to the side at the sight of Evie staring at him with those big green eyes. Those eyes that held so much light and joy. If he held the melody, she held the very words into his soul.

Was he falling too fast? Yes, but that wasn’t for him to decide. His heart needed to have her.

*******************************************************************************************

It had been about two months since Peter and Evie met but the sparks between them grew stronger every day. For them, meeting up wasn’t just about the songs anymore. No, the meetings were for them.

On this particularly warm winter day, Peter walked the two blocks from his apartments to Evie’s work to take her on a surprise date. He’d decided to dress up a little by wearing a purple collared shirt, khakis, and a new pair of winter boots. Evie would be coming out of work any moment.

“Oh! Peter, I thought you had to go into the studio today,” Evie exclaimed as she stepped around the corner of the door. Not that she wasn’t pleased to see Peter, he always managed to make her smile.

She smiled even wider and her heart beat a little faster as Peter took her hand in his. His huge fingers engulfed hers but she welcomed the size-difference. Peter had called her “shorty” so many times the last week, it became an inside joke for them.

“Well, cookie, it just wouldn’t be a good day without seeing your pretty face,” Peter sang out, causing Evie to laugh in spite of the blush on her cheeks.

“Not too loud, Petey! Don’t want all of New York to hear,” she giggled.

A tight squeeze on her hand made her look up into Peter’s gorgeous hazel eyes.

 “I forgot you’re more of the quiet type. Sorry, cookie!”

Another laugh echoed from Evie’s throat and she rolled her eyes good-naturally at him.

“Where are you taking me, Petey? A secret hideout?”

“No, cookie. I’m taking you to the studio.”

Evie gasped and looked at him in complete shock. He was finally taking her to the studio? She’d dreamed of visiting there for two months!

“My manager’s been asking about you,” he explained as they stomped up the steps, “she wants to meet my little muse.”

First cookie and now muse? Was Peter intentionally trying to hold Evie’s heart in his hands? Did he ever understand how unfair she was actually being?

The smirk on Peter’s face as he pushed open the studio door told Evie he did, in fact, know exactly what he was doing.

Now she just needed to decide if she wanted to kick him or kiss him.

*******************************************************************************************

Evie hadn’t wanted to commit murder in a long time. Normally she was super cool with handling sexist or rude remarks from men, but this time, her emotions bubbled to the top of the surface.

She’d been working on the sports section of the newspaper when the ink slipped right out of her hand and smashed onto the floor. A moment that Evie no longer found truly embarrassing. She’d done it and seen it way too many times.

Her manager had been working with another employee at the time but when he heard the crash, he spun away and caught Evie’s eye.

“That’s alright, Evie. Just clean it up and try again.”

Evie gave her manager a thumbs up and trotted away to grab some paper towel. Her manager was the nicest guy in the world. She’d found out that he, too, had read the poetry book she’d published at twelve. He’d complimented her on her writing skills at such a young age.

“Not every one can write like that so young, Evie,” he’d told her.

As Evie cleaned up the spill, she overheard a coworker--James-- who’d always had an issue with her speak to the manager.

“How many times has she spilled ink, boss? That ain’t a good look for her.”

The manager shot James a look and warned him to get back to his job.

“She’s one of the hardest workers here, James. Everyone messes up once in a while.”

James rolled his eyes as Evie walked away to toss the paper towel into the trash.

“She doesn’t even belong here, boss. She should be in the kitchen making us some food. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Evie’s body trembled as tears stung at her eyes. She’d known James was a jerk but to say a comment like that? He was far more sexist than she’d believed.

“How about you shut your fucking mouth, James? If I made you a sandwich, I’d sure as hell make sure there were ink stains on it!”

Then, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the building. The manager never even stopped her. He was too busy ripping James a new one.

Evie kept on walking, ignoring the cold, ignoring the snow, ignoring the fact that in her hurry, she’d forgotten her coat. Anger traveled through every inch of her veins and her blood ran between hot and cold. Her teeth clattered from the harsh wind but Evie barely noticed.

She just kept walking until she reached a familiar front door. She banged three hard knocks on it and took in huge gasps of air to control her breath. Her eyes were so full of tears she couldn’t see.

“Cookie?”

Warm arms wrapped around Evie and lead her inside. A thick blanket was placed around her shoulders and someone pulled her into their lap.

“Hey, cookie, what happened?”

Evie looked up at Peter as her lower lip trembled again.

“My coworker! He’s awful! Just so sexist! H-he made a comment at me and n-normally I’m okay b-but this one just really got to me.”

The entire story tumbled out of Evie like waves upon waves of a dam finally breaking. She clung tighter to Peter with every single word she spoke and by the time she was finished speaking, her head was buried into his shoulder to try and muffle her sobs.

Careful hands stroked through the waves of her thick hair and kind lips pressed against the top of her head. Evie had never felt this exhausted from her emotions her entire life.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him, believe me, cookie.”

Evie pulled her head off her shoulder to stare into his eyes. She must’ve looked like an awful mess but the light in Peter’s eyes and the lines softening the corners of his mouth told a different story.

She reached up her hands, wrapped around the oversized sweater she’d been given sometime during her breakdown, and shakily cupped Peter’s cheeks. This boy was more than just a guitarist: he was an artist in every sense of the word. Although the songs had no words, his melodies hit Evie in the soul right where a piece of her was missing.

If he had been missing the words of a true poet, than she’d been missing the plucking of the strings of an old guitar with dents and scratches carved into the wood. The dents and scratches telling a story that would outlast even the oldest of songs.

“You finish that melody yet, Pete,” she murmured, lowering her head to touch Peter’s forehead with her own.

Peter gasped quietly as her skin touched his. His guitar-worn hands carefully slid along her back before coming to rest on her hips. In front of him sat the most marvelous, beautiful, and exquisite masterpiece he’d ever seen or heard.

Her little poems, those words flowing endlessly through pen or her own divine lips, were the lyrics his heart had been missing.

“No, cookie,” he whispered back, his lips almost touching hers.

Evie brushed her nose against his and giggled at the nose scrunch that followed.

“The Poet and The Beat,” she whispered before her lips connected with his.

Peter didn’t need any further information to understand what her words meant. They, together, poet and guitarist, created one word where sound and lyrics collided. That was to be their moniker, their brand, their way of life. The Poet and The Guitarist together as one.

#tasm peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #tasm peter parker x oc #evie cast #spiderman #peter parker #andrew garfield #fluff #guitarist #poet #peter parker x poet #peter parker imagines #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfics #peter parker stories #peter parker fandom #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman fandom #tasm fanfiction #tasm-fanfiction #love #the poet and the beat

[keanureevesisbae]

smut/18+ = ✧ | finished = | on going = ✎ | hiatus =

| multi chaptered fics |

↳˗ˏˋbucky barnesˊˎ˗ ↴

serendipity : winnie monroe cannot go to a monroe family weekend again without a boyfriend, so she asks her neighbor bucky barnes for a favor.

↳˗ˏˋpeter parkerˊˎ˗ ↴

dusk till dawn : peter parker and jordan wilson meet at school, but little do they know they have encountered each other once before.

↳˗ˏˋsam wilsonˊˎ˗ ↴

eunoia : while sam wilson struggles to accept the new title of captain america, quinn has a hard time remembering her past. (on hiatus)

#bucky barnes #peter parker #sam wilson #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fandom #sam wilson fanfic #mcu masterlist #keanureevesisbae

[c1nnam00n]

how it feels trying to find a fanfic/imagine about a fandom that’s dead and dry

#fanfic #percy jackson #angst #bruce wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader #dc comics #dick grayson #draco malfoy x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #haikyuu #jjk x reader #x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x reader #avatar aang #zuko x reader #marvel #peter parker x reader #damian wayne x reader smut #jason todd x reader smut #dick grayson x reader angst #dick grayson x reader smut #bruce wayne x reader angst #bruce wayne x reader smut #justice #dead fandom #imagine #headcanon #avatar the last airbender

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Dilf! Cowboy! Peter Parker x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Coming home for the summer back to the farm had it's perks. One of them being, you get to help out the owner of the ranch next door, Peter Parker. As they say- save a horse, ride a cowboy.

Warnings: thigh riding, over stim, BREEDING KINK, pet names, sir kink, praise kink, dumbification kink, degradation kink, tit play, smut implied, choking, cum feeding, teasing, swearing, yelling & booze mentioned ( readers father gets drunk & mad), age gap ( reader is mid 20s, peter is 40s), i let all my daddy issues shine through with this one yall, saddle up!!

Notes: "you're in the wind, i'm in the water- nobody's son, nobody's daughter... watching the chemtrails over the country club" - lana del rey, chemtrails over the country club

The caw of the rooster woke you every morning.

You didn’t have the luxury of an alarm clock, the blaring red numbers and constant blaring every five seconds being replaced with the trickle of the sunrise through your dainty lace curtains, the weight of your dog Harley jumping on your legs.

You didn’t mind.

It was a nice change from the sound of the bustling streets, the yelling of people down below mixed with the consistent sirens.

You loved your little apartment in the city, your roommate always providing you with comfort and kind words with a side of her jasmine tea.

But you had missed home.

You missed breathing in fresh, clean air, the soft breeze that would sway through the willow trees by the creek. You missed the feeling of the warm sunlight beating on you as you sat in the pasture with the cows, often sketching them while your father would yell at you to feed them, not just give them therapy sessions.

You could already hear their mooing from by the barn, causing you to sit up with a stretch, a yawn escaping your lips as you scrambled out from under the sheets.

An extra pep was in your step as you scurried down the hall to the washroom, brushing your teeth and washing your face in record time.

Today was the day.

You braided your hair in little pigtails, wrapping little pink bows to finish them off, smiling at your reflection in the mirror.

Today, you'd be seeing Mr. Parker again. Mr. Parker was your neighbour, the owner of the ranch right next to your farm. Your father had introduced him to you the second you had hauled in your suitcases in the door for the summer, and you nearly had fallen to your knees right then and there.

He was a living Adonis, his boyish smile making your face heat more than the stale summer heat outside.

I offered you up to help Mr.Parker this summer Y/N. His boys left the ranch to settle in the city before their first year at University.

Now typically, you hated when your father did this. This, little thing where he’d offer you around to the villagers like carol songs on Christmas, announcing that’d you'd be helping them with chores, without charge.

Of course, you couldn't just say no- being rude was not in your nature. But it irked you to no end when you’d have to scrub Mrs. Dorris's endless pile of dishes, or when you were forced to shovel manure on Mr. Hill’s barn with a smile plastered on your face.

But this wasn't Mrs. Dorris, and sure as hell wasn't Mr. Hill. This was Mr. Parker.

I’ll go easy on ya darlin. he had said with a wink, when the look of surprise was stunned upon your face at your father's words. Your heart had fluttered, hands went clammy as your fidgeted with your sundress. The thought of him and the words that rolled off his tongue had you smiling, a blush staining your cheeks as you ran back to your bedroom, slipping on the prettiest shirt you owned, and a pair of jeans that hugged your curves like a glove.

A basket filled with fresh berries and slices of homemade bread you had prepared last night was wrapped in flannel linen as you kissed your father on the cheek, and rushed out the door.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come in!” the husky voice called in response to your soft knocking on the oak door, sending shivers down your spine as you creaked it open, peeping your head inside. The sight had you nearly falling to your knees, the basket near slipping from your fingers.

You had walked in on him buttoning up the last of his white dress shirt, his beautiful, calloused hands adjusting the silver watch at his wrist. There was no ring on his finger, you noted.

Part of you hated yourself for feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you at the bareness of his hands, the other side encouraged it.

It was agony, wanting this man. You knew deep down, it probably wasn't right, him being a little younger than your father. Yet you couldn't stop the feelings you felt, no matter how much you tried to repress them back down. They bubbled to the surface, with every smile he gave you, with every word that spilled from his lips.

“Hello, love.” he smiled, bringing your attention up to his soft, brown eyes, the sunlight shining on them, turning them caramel.

“Hello sir.” you smiled softly placing the basket of goodies on the table, clasping your hands together. As if your inner conscious knew if you didn't, you'd reach out to touch the living artwork of the man, running your fingers down the planes of his shoulders, across his sharp jawline, through the strands of his silky hair from under that damn hat…

“Are those for me darlin’?” he asked, tugging you out of your daydream. “They're from Daddy's bushes outback… I picked some yesterday. The bread I made last night.” you blushed, watching as he popped a raspberry in his mouth.

Juices stained his fingers, in which you watched him suck them clean, his eyes boring into yours the entire time, gaze mischievous.

You gulped.

“You shouldn't have love. You’re too sweet.” he winked, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows as he brushed past your frame. “You give little treats to everyone darlin?” he asked, eyebrow raised as he held the door open, nudging for you to step back outside with him.

You obeyed.

“Only the ones I like.” you teased, earning a laugh from him. It was your new favourite sound, you decided, as light and airy as the birds who chirped from the branches of his oak trees.

“I’m honoured, sweetheart.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Parker stood true to his word, of course. He did go easy on you.

Not once did you lift a finger, as much as you offered to. He just shooed you off with a smile, saying today was an “introduction day”.

You were given a tour of his property, its beautiful pasture and meadows appearing like a painting in your mind. You couldn't help but smile as you watched some horses gallop in the meadow, their manes blowing in the gentle breeze as the grass swayed. It was stunning here. All seven hundred acres of it.

From the little apple trees that bloomed white in the spring to the creek that stretched to the back of his property, you never wanted to leave here. Especially if Mr. Parker would be here.

The day was drawing near, the afternoon heat diminishing as he took you around his barn, showing you all the horses that nicked in their stalls. You’ll mostly be helping out here, if that's alright darlin. Just keeping them fed, watered, clean and maybe even on some rides while I get stuff done out back. He had told you as you scratched a pinto mare's forehead lovingly, laughing as he snorted at you.

“I saved the best for last.” he teased, leading you to very last stall. A gorgeous chestnut mare poked its head out from the opening, it’s doe eyes wide as it took you in.

“This is Layla. She’s truly something.” Sure enough, a golden plate with Layla was underneath her long neck, glimmering brightly as the sunlight trickled through the open doors. “She's beautiful.” you gasped, placing your hand out for her to sniff.

“Layla’s the first horse I ever bought. Don't let her age fool you though, she runs as fast as the greens our back.” he joked, scratching her neck gently. “She seems very friendly.” you nodded, your heart seeming to triple three sizes as she nudged Peter's body, as if to say- more attention on me please!

“Oh she's a sweetheart. She's my good girl, aren't you Layla? Such a good girl.” he cooed, patting her neck.

The barn suddenly became hot, the sticky afternoon heat reappearing as your cheeks flushed. Such a good girl.

Those four words alone had you keening, causing you to chew on your cheek as you clenched your thighs together, kicking little pebbles as a means to calm down.

Those words weren't sexual. They were not intended for you. So why did it feel like it was?

You wanted to slap yourself silly for thinking this way, taking something so innocent and contorting it into… whatever this was. The dampness in your panties increased as he turned his attention towards you, a grin on his face.

Almost as if he knew. Almost as if he could see right through you.

“So does that sound okay then love? Lookin after them?” You nodded, following suit after Peter as he turned on his heel, heading back out the main doors. “Good. Wanna make sure you're comfortable here, okay?”

“Yes Mr. Parker. Thank you, um, for showing me the ropes and stuff today.” you blushed. “Of course darlin’. And-” He stopped you with the gentle touch of his hand, the feeling warm against your goosebump ridden skin.

“Don't be afraid to come over after hours okay? If you need anything at all, I’m here.” His eyes bore into yours, the softness they portrayed making you hypnotised.

You would do anything this man asked of you. You'd come over every day, every night, every hour if that's what Peter wanted.

“Thank you sir. You’re too kind.” The fact his grip tightened slightly at your words didn't go unnoticed by you. Nothing ever did, when it involved him. “Have a good evening darlin’.”

It was going to be a very, very long summer indeed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“YOU RUIN EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH GIRL!” Your fathers' cruel voice and the sound of the glass hitting the floor echoed, his whisky coating the floor with its bitterness had you running for the door with a cry.

Your vision was blurry as you sniffled, tears making your eyes red and puffy as you sobbed. The door slammed behind you with a thud, your legs carrying you as fast as they could down the steps and to the driveway.

You needed out.

You needed away from this house, and your fathers booze stained breath. His temper raged when he drank, and that was many times this week.

Many, many times.

The cool air soothed your heaving lungs, the cicadas buzzing under the moon distracting the buzzing in your brain. You couldn't think of anywhere else to go but, well… Peters.

The offer he had given you the first day of your time on the ranch blazed in your memory like a wildfire, his soothing voice numbing the pain.

You wanted to see him.

The idea of his soft embrace and charming smile sent your feet running down the driveway, down the road and to his house. You prayed the offer still kept. You had worked for Peter nearly every day this summer, and when you didn't work, you still often dropped by to give him little treats and pastries.

It was too late to second guess yourself any longer as you clambered over the closed gate, lock and chains jangling as you jumped down. Cursing yourself for wearing a little lace nightgown, you made your way down the long driveway.

There was dim lighting from behind his curtains, and you were thankful he wasn't asleep. The guilt that would wash over you if he was would never leave. You made your way up the front porch steps, rattling on his door quietly, The curtains shuffled as he made his way to the door, creaking it open slowly.

“Y/N? Darlin are you okay?” he asked gently, a look of concern on his face as he shooed you in. “I know its late, Mr. Parker sir but I just…”

You burst out into tears, hands covering your face as you cried. You felt his large frame wrap around you in a comforting embrace, swaying you side to side in his arms.

“Shhh, shh its okay love. Just let it out, atta girl.” he cooed softly, stroking your hair in a soothing manner as you gripped his shirt like your life depended on it.

“M’so sorry sir.” you sniffled, rubbing your nose as he lead you over to the couch. “Hey, never ever apologise honey. I told you that you could over anytime, did I not?”

You nodded softly, glancing up to meet his gaze. “Exactly. Can you tell me what happened love?”

His voice was so rich, so smooth and dreamy you never wanted him to stop talking. Each word was a note from a symphony, blending together in perfect harmony. You trusted him. More than anything, you trusted him. Which is why you told him everything.

“Dad was drinking again and he- he started getting mad again. Throwing stuff and yellin, blaming me for things I- I have no control over.” you sniffled, his palm cupping your cheek as he whipped your stray tear with his thumb.

“Oh honey I’m so sorry. That's not very nice of him is it?” You shook your head. “He’s being so cruel to you angel. But I’m so proud of you for coming over, you did the right thing.” he whispered, kissing your forehead tenderly.

You felt your heart thud madly in your chest, its beat in sync with the cantering stallions in the barnyard. His skin smelt of oak as he drew you even closer to him, sliding your body across his lap. There was nearly no space between the two of you now, but you didn't care.

Peter was here now.

He’d take care of you.

“He’s always telling me mean things, it makes me cry. I don't like to cry very much Mr. Parker.” you whispered, the throbbing in your core becoming more prominent as he began to bounce his knee.

Up down, up down.

You hiccuped softly as his hand came to rest on your thigh, tracing circles gently against your skin. It was comforting. You liked it, more than you should have.

“Tears can be pretty sometimes sweetheart. Happy tears, for instance.”

“But these aren't happy ones sir.” you smiled weakly, watching as his hand inch up your thigh. “I know sweetheart. We should do somethin about that eh? Get you feeling all better?” he purred.

You nodded, too dumbstruck for words as his hand resumed its hitch hiking, making its way closer to your soaking clothed cunt from under your nightgown.

Oh god.

“W-what are you doing sir?” you asked meekly as his fingers gently traced the cloth, making you shiver, the pulsing of your clit near unbearable as he teased.

“Oh darlin, I’m making it all better, see?” he pouted, slowly adjusting you so you sat straddled across his thigh. “But Mr. Park-”

“Shhh, darlin. Its just me, its your Peter.” he shushed you, hands tracing the curves of your hips, running up and down as he watched your nipples pebble from under the soft nightgown. He could sense the worry on your face as you chewed on your lip, looking up at him softly.

You wanted this. More than anything you wanted this. But deep down, you knew it was a bad idea, getting mixed up with your employer.

But weren't the bad ideas always the best ones?

“I see those thoughts runnin in that pretty head of yours baby. Little girls like you don't need to think, they need to be taken care of. And I’m gonna take care of you okay? I’ll give you everything you need, everything to make you feel better.” he cooed, tugging on a curl that had fallen from behind your ear as you swallowed, nodding.

He was right. Peter was always right, you knew this.

“Yes sir.” you whispered, eager to please the man. “God when you call me that darlin you drive me wild. Make me so god damn hard and you don't even know it, you silly girl.” he mocked, eye brow raised as he squeezed your cheeks together.

“Makes me wanna bend you over and stuff you full of cum, till your drippin. Makes me wanna spank your ass red, till you're a blubbering mess. But I can’t do that, can I sweetheart? That'd be too cruel for my innocent lil girl.” Peters grip made its way down to your neck, closing firmly around your neck, making you gasp.

“Mr. Parker I need-”

“Ah ah ah..” he clucked his tongue, watching your doe eyes widen. “I know what you need darlin. I always know what you need.”

Any thoughts from your brain has left, your body and mind solely given to use for Peter in whichever way he wanted. You wouldn't be surprised if drool dribbled out of your mouth with the way you were under his trance, your gaze fully focused on his full blown pupils.

“Yes sir.” you speculated, smiling as his dimples showed. You were making him happy. “Good girl. Now you're gonna ride my thigh yea? Then I’m gonna fill you with cock until you're fucked stupid.”

You found yourself nodding, his grip on your hips tightening as you began to rut your hips against his thigh, the denim feeling delicious against your clit. “Mghmm.” you moaned, rolling your head back as he guided you slowly against his bouncing knee.

“You’d like that huh? My dumb lil darlin, stuffed full.” he teased, country drawl even heavier as he watched you in delight. The praise and degradation was making your head spin, your bones turned to mush as you rode him.

There was a fire in your veins, a simmering in your core that continued to burn with each rise and fall of his knee, with each gentle kiss and lick he placed on your collarbone.

It ached. It ached more than anything.

“I know it aches honey, but you gotta be a good girl and take what I give you.” he murmured against your skin, moaning as you slid your hands up through his hair, tugging.

The brown, honeyed strands were as silky and smooth as you thought they'd be, perfect reins for you to hold onto. “Been wanting you so badly sir please!” you cried, your slick coating his jeans as you slid your hips.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

It was addicting, the way he was making you feel without truly touching you. “Oh honey I know. I’ll just have to ruin you for all those boys at college won’t I?”

He was toying with you, a cat chasing its dinner. You were the mouse. And you were perfectly fine with that.

“Please!” you gasped, pulling on his scalp as he leaned down to suck on your breasts through the lace of your dress. “Mmm. By the time I’m done with ya darlin, these will be full of milk. Gonna fuck you r-right.” he stuttered as you tugged on his his hair, arching your back to provide better access as he licked and sucked. He bit down on your nipple, tugging at his teeth as you screamed his name.

You were shattering. You were floating, a simple atom floating with the stars as you came, toes curling from the sensations. You never wanted to stop.

You never wanted him to stop.

No one had ever made you feel this way, had made you orgasm so hard your eye rolled back to your brain…

“That’s a good girl. Such a good baby.” he praised, his gentle voice snapping you back to realty as he brushed his lips against your soft, warm skin.

“M’so good. So so good…” you trailed off, sleepy smile on your face as he slid his hand down to the wet patch on his pants, smearing your juices on his fingers.

“Open up darlin.” he hummed, winking as you stuck your tongue out, lapping up your cum from his fingers like a kitten drinking its milk.

“My good girl.” `

#peter parker smut #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker #peter parker x fluff #peter parker x smut #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker fandom #spiderman #spiderman x smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x fluff #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x fem!reader #spiderman smut #spiderman fluff #spiderman fic #spiderman far from home #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm #tasm peter parker #tasm peter smut #tasm smut

[xtom-darling-x17]

could you make one where peter and y/n are watching tv when a dirty scene comes on but may is in the same room. They try to look away and they are maybe dating or best friends carry it on x

Trust May

Pairing - Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - You and Peter watch a movie, when a sex scene comes on.. trust May to come into the room to fold her washing.

Warnings - Inappropriate scene in a movie..

A/N - Thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy! Much appreciation to the love and support

You are wrapped up in a cover with Peter, drinking a hot chocolate with coco powder and marshmallows. May made it for both of you, since she said she would be mostly doing errands around the apartment.

May told you guys to pick the movie, so here you are now.. trust May to walk In the room folding up washing as the sex scene comes on. 

You pull the cover up to Peter’s eyes as he is certainly, embarrassed by the whole scene. Especially, since May is in the room..

He is just frozen, “Peter, it’s ok,” You giggle, trying to look away yourself.

“Uh, Yeah! What are you on about?” You shook your head, not Believing him one bit as you see a red, tinted blush creep up his neck, “I’m totally fine,”

“Your voice is very rushed and panicked,” You giggle, “Plus, your adorable cheeks are blushing,” You tease again, pinching his cheeks slightly.

Peter groans into your shoulder, half under the covers to hide his fate of being teased.

“Peter? You ok honey, you seem a bit red,” May furrowed her eyebrows, “Do I need to get the thermometer?” She panicked, checking his forehead.

You burst into laughter seeing how clueless she really was to the scene that just pasted.

“No,” Peter shook his head, “I think I just need to take the cover off me,” he grins, taking the cover off of him, “See I’m not sick,”

“Oh, ok, that’s good,” May smiles, “You watch him Y/N, I’ve seen it before..” she goes into another room.

“Phew,” Peter sighs relieved, “I really was going to die in embarrassment,” you kissed his cheek, “Yep, you was,”

Peter wraps his arms around you tighter, you lay your head on his warm, toned chest. He kisses your forehead, “My beautiful, Darling,” whispering into your ear.

“My handsome princess,” You winked, Peter huffed, “Hey, I was only joking! Definitely, knew you was a boy.. so your a Prince,” you tease more.

“Little bitch,” Peter playfully said, stroking your locks with his hand, comforting you into his lap.

“Mm, your little bitch,” You smirk back, “Ofc,” he agreed, laughing.

“Your fingers are so soft and I love them,” You change the subject, concentrating on your one of many, interests of Peter.

“Yours too,” Peter picks up your other hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Perfect,” Peter smiles leaning into you, kissing your lips smoothly with so much passion.

You slip your tongue in deepening the kiss, taking your hands into his curls.

“Mm, love you, Darling,”

“Love you too, Petey,” You giggle. 

Little did you know May knew about the scene but decided to let you be, she just wanted to tease you guys into thinking she “knew”..

Checking Peter if he’s ill or not is to you.. only being her normal, overprotective self. Now, May had to really laugh at that one because without her god knows, where you would be.

By the time May was in the living room again, she sees you and Peter snuggle up within each other, asleep.

“Sweet dreams,” May smiles, turning the light off, going to bed herself.

#tom peter parker #tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fandom #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader

[lu-cider]

here's some ATSV meme redraws!! (o^^o)

(feedback on the ALT text is welcomed with open arms)

#didn't have a tiktok to post #so take these instead ^^ #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv fanart #atsv fandom #spiderverse #across the spider verse fanart #spiderman fandom #spiderverse fanart #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #gwen stacy #miles morales #aaron davis #rio morales #peter b parker #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #peni parker #margo kess #artist #art #digital art #my art tag #adding these tags just in case they actually do something lol

[24-7fandombrain]

Miles, introducing his parents to the Spider Squad: This is my girlfriend Gwen, and this is my boyfriend Hobie, and this is Hobie's and my boyfriend Pavitr, and this is Pavitr's girlfriend Gayatri, and this is my second dad Peter, and this is Peter's wife MJ, and this is Peter's husband Miguel-

#i honestly love how intricate this fandom's poly ships are #like everyone's is slightly different i can't get enough #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miles morales #gwen stacy #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #gayatri #peter b parker #miguel o'hara #gwen x miles #gwiles #gwen and miles need a fun ship name like everyone else fr #flowerpunk #chaiflower #chaipunk #pavitr x gayatri #spiderdads

[raerae-bb]

Just something I think people that write for ATSV should watch

#miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel smut #hobie brown x f!reader #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv fic #hobie brown atsv #atsv fandom #miles molares #miles morales #miles x reader #pavitr prabhakar #peter b parker

[heartpascal]

is it freedom?

▹— spiderverse (future) found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along.

▹— a/n: ok i have been enabled by exactly two (2!) people. (thank you both) SO dare i start a spiderverse series??? IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS… I WILL DO IT. this is really just a set up thing idk but i feel like arachnid has potential for further parts and ACTUAL found family!! also haven’t tagged people on my general taglist bc idk if you guys want to be tagged in ALL works or just all pedro works :(

▹— warnings: slight across the spiderverse spoilers, not really found family yet, injuries, blood, treating own injuries, stitches, fighting (canon-typical violence yall), dead parents (mentioned a LOT), a whole lot of angst (it’s a spider-person so what do we expect), reader has a whole lot of bad thoughts, loneliness, isolation

masterlist PART TWO

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Had you known what this, this thing, would lead to, you would have never started it. Not that you had done so purposely, at least to begin with, more so happening as an event of pure chance. You were in the right place at the right time, and since then, you had been addicted.

But if you could go back, look at yourself just a year younger than you are now, tell that kid what would come if you went through with saving a life for the first time, you wondered. It was a question that scratched deep in your brain, sending you off balance the more you thought about it; would you have still done it? Would you have saved that person’s life, knowing it would lead to your own falling apart?

You would like to think yes. In fact, you know that back then, when your eyes were bright at the prospect of helping people, when you still marvelled at the world like it was good, you would have been certain that it would be worth it. Why should that person die, just to save you? It’s a harrowing realisation. A conclusion that makes your fingers tremble, your voice shake. Now, you’re not sure you would do it. You don’t think you could bear to face that decision knowing what you know of the world around you now.

It’s something cruel, really, that the spider that bit you gave you these powers, and nothing to go back and fix your mistakes. Your perceived victories. Your losses.

But the worst has already happened, and the only one left to die is you, so you carry on. You don the suit every day, you sew up your own injuries on the top floor of the abandoned offices that you’ve claimed as your own. Each day, you wake when you choose, you sleep when you want to, and you work yourself down to your very bones with nobody to object.

The hollow feeling in your gut is a pain you have no choice to ignore, to smother with assurances that this is freedom. What else could it be? You do whatever you so please, you spend your time swinging through the streets of New York rather than doing schoolwork at home, you eat all the junk you could ever have wanted.

It’s freedom. It has to be.

You tell yourself that you don’t miss the home part of having to do schoolwork, promise your heart that you don’t miss home-cooked meals as opposed to greasy food that leaves you unsatisfied. You swear that you like having nobody to tell you what to do. There’s no other choice, after all.

And each day, when you spend a little bit longer out on the streets, getting yourself into needless fights that the police could certainly handle, you tell yourself it’s because you’re protecting the city. You convince yourself that it’s not because of having an unending rage to satiate, or a permanent feeling of breathlessness when you leave police to handle anything, as if you could relive the moment your father, the captain, was left to handle something he couldn’t.

So, you’re almost relieved by the appearance of something… strange. Something dangerous. This is what you live for — this is your job.

You crouch against the wall, fingers splayed and suit itching where you had crudely sewn it back together across your ribs at an almost too-close call. You hold your breath, you watch. The lenses over your eyes shield your sensitive sight from the harshest colours of this new opponent, who looks almost… unreal. Too different to be a part of reality. He yells out, seemingly glitching? A distorted scream of what is apparently pain, accompanied by flashes of colour that are unfamiliar to you.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” You comment, eyebrows raised beneath your mask, and the strange looking guy snaps his head towards you, long hair slapping across the goggles over his eyes. He bares his teeth at you, something almost resembling a grin marring his face.

“Spider-man!” He yells triumphantly, cackling as he wipes the hair away from his face, tendrils unfurling from behind his back and lifting him into the air.

“Not quite!” You call back, dodging below the metallic arm that shoots towards where your head was, crumbling through the wall. You try to think back to the jokes you used to tell to rile up whoever you were facing, but find your mind is blank. Instead, all you can think of is questions. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”

The man follows you as you spring from wall to wall, heading towards the center of the building where it tunnels up for about forty floors, balconies overlooking the fountain below. “A new spider, eh? Well I’ll take you down just as easily as I have the other!” He tells you, though you’re immediately suspicious of his statement. You’re the only Spider-related hero around, and even if you weren’t, you doubt this guy could squash a worm, let alone you.

“Sure thing, man.” You say, sighing, already exhausted by the repetitiveness that comes with every fight. Your opponents always say they’ll beat you, kill you, squish you, take you down, and yet you always get back up at the end of the fight, and they always remain defeated. When you started doing this, you never would have thought you’d get so tired from winning all the time.

And yet here you are, slipping further and further up the building with the octopus-looking guy chasing after you, metal arms crumbling walls and bannisters on his way up. He falters once more, another one of those glitch-like movements sending him down a few floors, but he’s quick to recover. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

You crouch down on one balcony, somewhere around the thirty mark floor-wise, peering down at the guy as he shakes lingering pain from his body. He charges upwards, aiming to reach you quickly with an almost predatory smirk on his face. Before he can even get close to you, however, you’re back on the move, setting a trap for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice.

It’s only when a group of late workers emerge on what you’re pretty sure is the twenty-first floor that you become more anxious about this fight. You don’t like when civilians are involved.

There’s about a dozen of them crowding the balcony, looking up to where you’re facing off with octopus-man above, some having begun to descend the stairs to the next floor before catching on to your presence. You try not to draw attention to them, but their pointing and whispering sets the Spidey-sense off, ringing loudly between your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Maybe you underestimated this guy. The flash of a camera sends the last hope of him not noticing down the drain, and he grins at you as he switches targets, climbing down towards them with some semblance of caution.

You’re much faster than he is, dropping down and using a web to catch yourself rather than having to climb. It’s hard to stop yourself from yelling at them, cursing them out for being so damn foolish — who in their right mind would stick around a very dangerous fight to take pictures?

Instead, you choose to yell, “Get out! Go, go, go.” And usher them down the stairs, but it’s not difficult to realise that this guy is going to get to them before they manage to descend to the bottom. You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, not for you.

The split second decision to drop down and form a net-like web low enough to catch the workers worked out for you in the end, as you swung back up and pushed the workers off of the balcony and stairway just as the octopus man was reaching them. He cursed at you, refocusing his efforts on you as you vaguely noted the workers clambering down after their screaming had stopped. Honestly — did people really have so little faith in you? Had you ever sent anybody to their death before?

“You are just as pesky of an insect as Spider-man!” He growled out, teeth gritted, and came after you with renewed force. He kind of reminded you of that doctor you faced not long after getting your powers, but this guy looked completely different. The doctor you faced — aptly named Doc Ock — had turned himself into some form of a mutant, he had reinforced tentacles which sprouted from his back. Was this guy some kind of copy cat? Maybe he was just delusional.

“I don’t know who Spider-man is, man!” You shout to him as you ascend the building again, trying to figure out the best way to take this guy down. His tentacles seem electronic, so surely you could disable whatever machinery resides on his back?

“That’d be me.” A voice came from above you, two floors ahead of your position. Your head snapped towards it, seeing a man in a blue and red suit, framed by a burst of orange behind him. He didn’t linger up there long, instead moving to leap down to the guy who had turned his attention to the new guy. The closer you looked at this new guy, the more similarities you saw to yourself — his webs looked remarkably similar to your own, the pattern that went across his suit matched your own, even the wide white lenses that shielded your eyes on your mask. Who the hell was this guy?

The octopus man grinned widely, shaking greasy hair from his face. “Ah, finally! The real Spider-man. Got yourself a new protégé, I see.” He drawled, dodging this new guy’s hit straight off of the bat. You tried not to get annoyed at being referred to as a protégé, considering as far as you were aware, you were the only Spider-person around. Where was this guy when you were holding a bridge full of civilians together? Where was he when you took down villain after villain, never once failing to get the guy? No — you were the real Spider-man, if anyone.

“I don’t know who you are, man, but I’m handling this just fine.” You call to the guy, swinging down to rejoin the fight, webbing the villain’s metal tentacles to the wall behind him, before dropping down to kick him towards the wall.

“Oh, so you know how to send this guy back to his own dimension?” Spider-man asks you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask, and as if on cue, the guy glitches once more, ripping his arms away from the wall and just about catching himself on a balcony below before he could fall into your net.

You gape at the new guy, glancing back up to where the burst of orange remains opened, and is that a portal? Is this Spider-man from another dimension? Is that why you’ve never heard of him before? God, if your mother was alive, she’d kill to find out about this. Inter-dimensional travel was something she had spent her life researching. If you didn’t remain so bitter toward her even after her death, you might’ve been sad she wasn’t alive to see this.

But you were bitter, and it made the experience all the worse.

Because you’re pretty sure that that bitterness takes the place of grief within you. It’s hard to understand why you crave to feel that pain, that grief, as opposed to the aching resentment that floods you with the thought of her. It’s such a sharp contrast to thinking of your father, your kind father, the man who threw himself into a battle he couldn’t have hoped to survive, just on the off chance he could save somebody. You hope you take after him.

“Wait— you’re from another dimension?” You question anyway, eyes flickering between the battle and the looming portal above. In fact, you’re so distracted by finding out about that tidbit of information that you miss octopus man aim a tentacle for you, and it snatches you around the ankle. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—!”

The man waves you around like some kind of rag doll, and you try not to be too bitter about being caught off guard. You should probably learn that getting caught up in your little pity party always ends up badly, always distracts you from that renowned Spidey-sense. You formulate a plan in your mind when the drip of blood around your ankle draws your attention back to the battle at hand.

You web the wall opposite and hold on tight, pausing the movements and letting the dizziness that had come over you fade away. The man growls out in annoyance, and gets closer to cut the webs with another tentacle, which is exactly what you planned for. The tension from the webs launches you towards him when you let go, and in his surprise, the metal tentacle releases you. You wrap around him, and start webbing up the machinery embedded in his back as Spider-man distracts most of the tentacles, keeping them from pulling you off.

His tentacles start faltering, clearly not obeying his movements, and you wrap them up where they emerge from his back, continuing along until the movement is so limited that he has to use them all to clutch onto the nearest balcony.

You crawl up the tentacles in the very same spidery manner that you’re known for, and crouch, watching the octopus man struggle as Spider-man observes from the balcony opposite. “You wanna finish this one off, Spider-man?” You ask, unable to hide any bitterness from your tone at his mostly unhelpful actions throughout the battle.

“Hey, not bad!” He praises, and it annoys you. You’re good at what you do — for the most part. You manage without help constantly, and that’s the way you prefer it. “You’d make a good addition to the Spider Society!”

Now, you don’t know what the Spider Society is. But honestly? You don’t care. You don’t need help, and you prefer working alone, and you certainly don’t like feeling patronised.

“Whatever, man. Just send him back to whatever dimension he came from.” You tell the guy, and drop down as you hear sirens outside, landing on your injured ankle and just about stopping yourself from cursing. Through all the adrenaline and fighting, you’d forgotten about the way the metal had ripped into your skin, drawn blood. It’s just be another place you’d have to sew up your suit with itchy, uneven stitching. “Officers,” You greet as they open the doors, guns drawn, radios murmuring. “All taken care of. Civilians okay?”

“Shaken up, but fine.” The leading police officer says, immediately relaxing and holstering his weapon. You wish it reassured you that the police trusted you now, but it didn’t. Nonetheless, the other officers follow suit. “Thank you, Arachnid.”

The name your world has bestowed upon you has yet to grow on you, but you nod your head regardless, and salute them as you make your way out, swinging across the city, trying to put the existence of the multiverse and inter-dimensional travel out of your mind. Surprisingly, it’s pretty easy when you have a busted ankle to fix up.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You’re halfway through stitching up your suit, having already sewn your skin back together with as much skill as you possessed in the matter — which was, not much. But the bleeding has stopped, and your stupidly slow healing will take care of it within a few days. You know that the itchy stitches on your suit will just irritate the injury, and though you wouldn’t lose anything if your identity was revealed, it doesn’t feel right to go out into the city with any part of you on show.

No, you wear the suit for a reason. You keep every part of yourself covered because nobody can know it’s you underneath the suit. Not because you had anything to lose, no, you had already lost everything. It was because then you could never make a mistake, you would have to be absolutely perfect, flawless, to make up for the fact that it was you underneath the layer.

So, you settle with a sewn suit that will itch and make the stitches on your ankle sting.

However, when there’s a burst of orange across the room, you have no choice but to forgo the suit, to simply drop the needle and thread and hover your fingers over your web shooters. You wait, nervously, for some other villain to appear. You’re not sure if Spider-man appearing would be better or worse.

But when a foot steps through the portal, it’s nobody familiar. In fact, it’s a suit you have never seen before, made up of dark blues and bright reds, sharp edges and long claws. It’s… unnerving, and considering the silence coming from the person wearing it, you’re not entirely certain of what they’re here for.

A moment later and another person steps through, a woman, with bright yellow lenses across her eyes that filter her irises into an amber. She steps forward, standing beside the person who had stepped through first, and if she hadn’t showed up, you would’ve been tempted to attack. With that being said, you remain on edge, but there’s something… comforting about her presence. Like her presence softens the man’s jagged edges.

She says your name, and then adds, “Arachnid.”

You furrow your brows and curse as you glance back at the suit so crudely laid out on the floor. Still, it doesn’t explain how she knows your name. Was it an inter-dimensional thing?

“Spider-man told us about your work in capturing Doc Ock earlier.” She tells you, as if that explains their presence. You did what you were supposed to do, which was take out the bad guys. “We’re here to offer you a place in the Spider Society.”

You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of good cop, bad cop thing. She presents an offer which doesn’t sound too bad, and then her sharp-edged companion presents all the drawbacks and the catches. They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer, either way. You still don’t even know what this Spider Society was! Was it some kind of multi-dimensional cult?

“I already told Spider-man that I wasn’t interested in joining whatever cult you’ve got going on.” You practically hiss, though you didn’t exactly tell him in such blatant words. You were more dismissive earlier, so you’d have to be clear now.

“It’s not a cult,” The man speaks, voice harsh and sharp much like the blades that branch from his forearms. “We work to protect the multiverse from anomalies that threaten to destroy it.”

The woman glances at him in a way that you translate as being vaguely annoyed, like he wasn’t approaching you in the way she had wanted him to. “He means to say that it’s a big job, and we need all the help we can get.” She says, softer, but only in comparison to the man’s harshness. “Listen, kid, you’re good at what you do. We need that kind of talent.”

“You’ll have to find it somewhere else.” You say firmly, because why would you want to leave your universe? This was a lot to think about when you had only learned of the multiverse existing mere hours ago. Regardless, you weren’t about to abandon your city just to go across the multiverse to help other heroes who couldn’t keep a leash on their own villains.

The two of them shared a look, a mere glance, before the woman heaved a sigh. “Look,” She sighed, heavily, like whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want to be voicing. “Before you make your choice, you should know, your Green Goblin is currently terrorising another universe.”

You couldn’t work out if this was some kind of recruitment tactic, or something. That just wasn’t possible. You had put Gwen Stacy in the highest security prison after all antidotes to her goblin-tech failed. She was stuck in there — permanently. There was no way she had gotten out, let alone gotten out to another universe.

…Right?

It’s hard not to think of the memories at the mention of her—Green Goblin, not Gwen Stacy. Never Gwen Stacy. You wonder if this is where your fear comes from, the terrifying fact that you are remembered only for your mistakes. Because before she was the Green Goblin, she was Gwen. She was everything to you. She was the sun you orbited, the stars that charted your path. And it hurts, it hurts that you can only remember the blood and the dust and the destruction when you think of her.

People aren’t born as monsters, are they?

Like the spider that bit you, that invertebrate that so many fear, it was born the way it was. It was born with those fang-lined maws, with those eight legs and dozens of eyes. It was made into the monster it became, artificially crafted to deliver a venom that changed you forever. But it wasn’t born that way.

Surely, Gwen wasn’t either. She was kind. You remember that about her. You can remember her soft hands that used to hold your own, the loud laughter that always ended in a snort when she laughed at her own jokes, the gentle eyes that stared into your very soul. But those eyes are the very same ones that let her see through your mask, let her see exactly where to hit you to make it hurt. Was that what she was born as? Or is that what she was made into? A killer. A monster.

“Show me.” You say, because what else could you possibly respond? If what they’re saying is true, if the Green Goblin is loose once more, then people will die.

You can’t let her get fresh blood on her hands. Not when somewhere, deep inside your chest, so far down it’s almost unreachable, you have hope for her. You have an innate desire to look for the best in her, even when the Gwen you knew was the first life that the Green Goblin took.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

If there’s one thing you’ve taken from being Arachnid, it’s to expect the unexpected. And you go through the orange portal after Jessica Drew and Miguel O’Hara with that exact mindset about you, staring at where an orange watch-like device is wrapped around your wrist.

It’s in your nature to be suspicious, and these people weren’t an exception to that.

In fact, their presence only heightened that behaviour. After all, what were you to expect from two Spider people, who supposedly came to you for your help?

You weren’t blind, you saw the aged lines of their faces the moment you got close enough to see them clearly, away from the dim lighting of the building. They were adults, adults who had clearly been doing this type of thing a lot longer than you had. You, who was barely bordering on adult, who had fought enough battles already to last a lifetime — so why would they need you?

It didn’t feel right.

And when this Miguel person summoned Lyla the moment you walked through the portal, it felt all the more wrong. She was a hologram of some kind, much higher tech than the kind of thing you saw on your earth. But then again, you had never really been in high tech labs back in your earth. Still, it unsettled you. “Lyla, get me the location of Green Goblin, Earth 5011.” He commanded, and they argued in hushed voices for a moment, before a wider hologram appeared, stamped at Earth 3899.

“How did she get to another universe?” You ask, then, because it doesn’t make sense, and you’re shaking underneath the thin material of your suit. You’re hyper aware of each drag of stitching against the wound on your leg, each patch of fabric you had sewn on in hopes of the suit lasting you just a little longer, because you didn’t have the resource to produce a new one.

“It’s an anomaly.” Jessica Drew tells you, her tone softer than you’d heard it, as if she was attempting to reassure you in some way.

It didn’t help. But how could it? The last time you had faced Gwen Stacy—Green Goblin— you had lost so much. It had been the beginning of the end of everything good in your life. The explosion she had caused at your mother’s laboratory was the very same one that killed her, the very same explosion that sent you and your dad miles apart all while living in the same home. And still, you found a way to hope that there was something to salvage within Gwen.

But not only had you lost your mother, and not long after — your father, you had also lost your closest friend. The one person you had confided in, who knew you from your surface to the deepest level, and she had used that against you the moment the Goblin had taken over.

It had taken everything in you to beat her, back then.

And that was on home turf! How did these people expect you to do that a second time, in a completely unfamiliar place?

“Specifics aren’t important right now. Jessica, you take Arachnid. Lyla, send another one of the teams.” Miguel instructed, dismissing your questions right off the bat. It was frustrating. They were leaving you completely in the dark, and sending you to fight the worst enemy you had ever faced, and they were sending you alongside others like you from different universes. It was like asking you to bare your soul in front of them, to reveal your secrets, your deepest regrets, everything that you wanted to stay buried.

You knew Green Goblin. You knew that’s exactly what she would do. She would undermine you, she would lay your life out in front of you like tiles on a scrabble board. In the end, none of it amounted to much.

Jessica Drew made her way out, glancing at you and nodding for you to follow along. Your moment of hesitation had drawn Miguel’s attention, and he called out to you after a moment of hesitation. “We’ve all faced one like it, kid. It’s easier with others.” He told you, though he held a pained expression on his face all the while. Instead of admitting to the way he had hit the nail right on the head, you simply nodded and followed after Spider-woman.

It was a whirlwind from there.

Meeting up with others. Travelling the length of the so-called Lobby to wherever it was that Jessica was taking you. When you finally arrived, she offered an empty glass box with a mannequin inside, bare. She gestured towards it like it should’ve been self explanatory, but soon realised she’d have to spell it out for you.

You shouldn’t have been so upset by the offer of a new suit.

But you were.

This suit was your life. You had nothing outside of it, not anymore. You couldn’t just throw it away, as if it meant nothing, as if every rip and patch and wonky stitch didn’t mean anything. These were proof that what you were doing was real, that it was worth something. Each stitch proved you had value. You weren’t about to throw all of that away, especially for whatever overly technical suit these people would provide.

You had everything you needed.

And so Jessica led you to the next destination: Earth 3899.

The moment you stepped through the portal, it was like you were hit with a wave of familiarity. And not in a positive, slightly nostalgic way, no— this was chaos. This was the state your world had been in when Green Goblin ran riot, unchecked. She had torn apart buildings, blown up parks, she had set New York City aflame. And she was doing exactly the same here.

It was more contained here than it had been on your earth, and you had to assume that was thanks to the Spider-man already on site, coordinating police, ambulance and fire responses to douse the fires as quickly as she set them. If only the police in your city had trusted you so much, back then.

“Where is she?” You ask, the moment you get close enough to speak to the resident Spider-man of the universe. He looks at you as if you’re familiar, but doesn’t comment, instead just pointing a finger toward a skyscraper just a short way ahead. You’re gone the moment he tells you where to go.

She had the uncanny ability to stay quiet. It had freaked you own back on your own earth, but it was even more terrifying here, where things were ever so slightly different.

“Arachnid.” Gwen’s voice called, and for a moment, you could forget. You could forget every horrible thing the Goblin had done, and you could remember your friend, your Gwen, who had called out to Arachnid more than once without knowing it was you behind the mask. Whether it was for a story or to provide information on your most recent opponent, the voice calling your alias was familiar. But then there was that crackle of laughter, an unnatural gurgle in the way it left her throat, and you turned to see the green-tinged pallor of her skin. “I was so hoping you’d show up.”

You didn’t know how much her appearance would effect you, until you were stuck to the side of the building, staring at what had once been your best friend. You’re so choked up that you can’t even formulate a response, because you want that to be Gwen so badly, but you know it isn’t. The more you look at her, the more Goblin you see, the more you know that the Gwen you love is never coming back.

“Nothing to say?” She asks, and then says your real name, the name she used to say down the crackle of a phone line, or across the school hallway, and she smiles. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“You should’ve stayed in prison, Gwen.” You say, your voice unsteady as you say her name aloud for the first time in what must be forever. She seems to relish in the tremble of your voice, and you have to curse yourself for being so stupid, for already showing the vulnerability she was so easily able to pick out.

The Green Goblin tutted at you, stood atop her glider, but the smile you saw didn’t belong to Gwen. “You’re pathetically predictable, you know. You’re like a moth to the flame.” She tells you, and you fear that she’s right, that you’re the same person you were back when you fought her, back when she almost won. She sighs, like something heavy is weighing upon her, but it turns wistful in the blink of an eye. “I’m just glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be so disappointed.”

“Arachnid, focus.” Jessica’s voice interrupts, before you can spiral down that rabbit hole. How did Gwen even know about your father? She was in prison long before he died. It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe,” You say, that familiar tremble around your words. “He did always hope for the best for you.”

She bares her teeth at your words, the only visible reaction before her mask is slipping over the bottom of her face, stretching out up to pointed ears, all metallic and tinted a murky green. Then, she’s attacking.

It’s muscle memory, mostly, you think.

If you don’t think too hard about it, it could be like playing a game with a longtime friend from your childhood. You know the moves to make, you know how she’ll respond. It’s a constant push and pull, a balance which leaves only destruction behind, the path of the Green Goblin’s wrath tangible in each battle scene the two of you leave behind. You can’t beat her like this.

It’s her glitching that gives you a slight upper hand — and you send her careening off of her glider to the ground below.

Your heart squeezes suddenly in your chest as you watch her fall, her eyes wide in what could almost be perceived as fear. If you didn’t intervene, would she die? Would you have put an end to her story, once and for all, when you secretly hope there’s a cure out there for her? You can’t bear the thought of finding out, of watching her die, and so you foolishly dive after her.

A web to her midsection allows you to grip her before she hits the ground, and you set her down with a far more gentle hand than you would ever admit.

She says your name, then, a whispered version of it that sounds like Gwen. You think you can see her in those wide blue eyes, in that stare, and you approach with some caution. “Gwen,” You say, more of a question, “You with me?”

“I’m with you,” She answers, as you reach her side, as you resist the urge to pull off your mask. You’re so preoccupied staring at her expression that you don’t see the blade until it’s too late, your Spidey-sense failing you as you wallowed in your search for someone who was gone. “You sweet, predictable bug.” She spits then, twisting the blade she had sunk deep into your side, and you writhe, trying to move away from her.

“Arachnid!” Jessica Drew calls out, drawing the Green Goblin’s attention, allowing you to pull away from her slackened grasp. You leave the blade where it is, knowing your only slightly enhanced healing wouldn’t make up for the onslaught of blood that would pour from the wound. “I think that’s enough, Green Goblin.” Jessica says, riding a motorbike that you swore she didn’t have earlier. Nonetheless, she uses it to put even more space between you and your villain.

“You need a hand, kid?” A new voice asks, and a gloved hand reaches out for you where you had knelt against the tarmac. You look up, seeing a new Spider-man, but this one has his mask up, showing off his aged face and the bags underneath his eyes. You wave him off, staggering up to your feet, and clench your jaw as you stare at Green Goblin, watch as she pulls bombs from her waistband, barely the size of a chocolate bar, but capable of causing irreparable damage. “Get back to HQ, Arachnid, we can handle this.” Spider-man tells you, in what you suspect to be a fatherly voice, but you ignore him.

Time flies, slips out of your grasp, and you don’t know how long you and the others spend fighting Green Goblin, but she proves to be just as difficult of a foe for them to face as she was for you. Each time the three of you manage to get the drop on her, she slips away before she could be caught. It’s frustrating, and you can even see the way irritation thickens in the air, tangible.

Spider-man, or Peter, as Jessica had called him, is with you, focusing on trying to take Green Goblin down, whilst Jessica Drew is focused on damage control, blowing up Gwen’s bombs before they could hit their intended targets. You’re pretty sure the resident Spider-man is around here, too, pulling any lingering citizens out of harms way before Green Goblin could end them. You’d admit, it works better than you had done alone back on your own earth.

But it doesn’t work well enough, and more than one building is damaged almost beyond repair, and in the dust and rubble, Peter was distracted by the few citizens poking their heads out of the gaping hole in the side of their apartments. He didn’t see Green Goblin coming until it was too late, until she had thrown two of her bombs, one towards him, and one towards the already wrecked building.

Your throat dries up as you try to figure out what to do, who to go for, but in the end, you don’t have to choose.

Beams of glowing orange webs shoot into the bombs where they arc towards their victims, blowing them up and leaving both Peter and the civilians in the apartments without a scratch on any of them. Well, nothing that wasn’t already there before. You see him then, running alongside Jessica Drew, none other than Miguel O’Hara — who clearly didn’t think that the three of you were capable of handling Green Goblin.

“We’ve gotta end this.” Peter tells the three of you, glaring over at Green Goblin after coming so close to one of her bombs.

“You distract, I’ll go in.” You say, the only plan that makes sense. The only plan that’ll work. You wouldn’t be much use as a distraction, not with the blood still pooling around the blade hanging from your side, but you could beat her. You knew you could.

Peter nodded, and he, Jessica and Miguel went in one after another, landing hits on Green Goblin before she could even think to withdraw another bomb, or land a hit of her own, whilst you made your way behind her, swinging as high as you dared to go in your state. She was getting angry, you could tell, a distinct flush rushing up the back of her neck, a tell that Green Goblin shared with Gwen.

It was only when she was starting to turn the tide that you jumped down from your spot against the side of a building, looking for your opening.

She sent Jessica Drew tumbling off of her motorbike, which was your chance.

Green Goblin heard you only a moment before you were on her, not giving her a chance to make a countermove. Instead, you were curling your arms around her, as tight as you could, holding her hands away from her waistband. You gripped the blade in your side and yanked it out, holding it to her chest, breathing heavily through the pain as you bared your teeth at her, her face beside your own.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You say, and try not to hear the pleading in your own voice, the distinctive tone of a beg. You may have the upper hand on her, but as always, she had the power. “Don’t.” You repeat, because you can feel it in your bones that you would do it. If it was the choice between her or the hundreds that she would kill on this world, it would be those hundreds. There was no doubt about it, no questions to be asked.

You may have resented your mother, but she wasn’t the only one who died because of the Green Goblin. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

Perhaps she heard the plea in your voice, the giveaway that you weren’t bluffing, because she went still in your arms, still enough for the other Spiders to approach with some caution, eyes on her hands where you held them away from any weapons, using your forearm connected to the hand holding the blade to her chest to keep her left hand from grasping anything.

“I won’t be asking again.” You tell her, which is as much of a threat as you can muster. Or, more so, a promise.

As Miguel pushed you back with a firm hand, throwing a machine at Gwen’s feet, you think she understands. If the two of you are ever in that position again, there will be no hesitation about it. You will kill her.

“Good work, kid.” Peter says as Miguel and Jessica get to work with getting your Green Goblin through a portal to the HQ. He glanced down at where your hand is now pressing into your side, blood pouring steadily. In your other hand, you still hold the blade that had pierced your own skin, that would have killed Gwen Stacy had she not surrendered. He winces as if it’s him who got hurt, and guides you through the portal after the others. “C’mon, we’ll get you checked out. You not got enhanced healing?” He asks, though you suspect he doesn’t expect you to answer, and you’re glad.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“I can do this myself, you know.” You sigh, wincing as a Spider-man — who apparently is also a doctor and works in the Spider Society’s infirmary — stitches up the wound on your midsection. It’s uncomfortable, though less painful that when you do it yourself. Still, it’s uncomfortable to accept help from these strangers.

“Ooh, shouldn’t say that to him.” Peter B. Parker laughs, one of the many Peter Parkers of the Society, but the same one who had fought Green Goblin with you. “He’ll lecture you on proper healthcare for days if you give him the opportunity!”

The Spider-doctor glares at Peter, or you assume he does, from the slight squint of the lenses of his mask. He kisses his teeth under the mask, tutting, muttering about “Spiders and their complete disregard for their health. Lucky you haven’t died ten times over from infections.” But he doesn’t say anything that requires a response from you, and he soon finished up the stitches. He goes to offer to fix up the injury on your ankle, but you’re up on your feet before he can even get the words out.

“Now, I gotta get back home to the wife, but Miguel wants to see you. He’ll take you home,” Peter tells you as he walks out of the infirmary by your side, but he stops you in the hallway with a hand on your shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “If that’s what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrowed before you could stop them, and the confusion over his words must’ve been written all over your face.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You ask, defensively.

Peter opens his mouth, but nothing escapes. Instead, it’s his expression that tells you everything he’s thinking. The crease between his brows screams pitying, or sympathetic. He’s talking about the way you live back on your earth, about the life you lead, Arachnid by day, and by night. With no room for you, no room for your secret identity. He’s thinking of the way you’ll be returning to a world with nobody awaiting you, with not a soul to look out for you, to stitch you up after a battle. Nobody but yourself, anyway.

You pull away from him, brows furrowing further, into an almost angered expression, and you don’t watch the way his hand falls away from your shoulder back to his side. He sighs when you turn away, scoffing as you make your way through the hallways of the Lobby towards where you think Miguel will be.

It’s overwhelming, all of these people. They all believe that they know you, that they know your circumstances, your story, but the truth is that they don’t. Nobody does, and that’s the way you prefer it. You don’t need a Society of Spiders surrounding you, breathing down your neck, telling you they’re sorry, or not trusting you to handle yourself in your own fights, because you can handle yourself. You’ve spent the last year of your life trying to prove that, trying to prove that you can do good things, that you’re worthy of the title Arachnid. You certainly shouldn’t need to prove that to a whole Society of people like you, most of which had been doing the job a lot longer.

You’re capable and you’re content.

You don’t need a life as your secret identity to be content, in fact, it’s better without one. You don’t have to tell so many lies, don’t have to worry about hurting the people you love, because there are none of them left. There’s nobody to hurt, and there’s nobody to lie to. Why would you want to change that?

The hallway ahead looks familiar, and you follow it until you enter a room where Miguel stands, looking at orange tinted screens on a platform halfway up the room. You enter with the absolute certainty that you want to return to your own earth, and you’re not going to let anybody stop you.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, expectantly.

He scoffs, saying nothing, still staring at the screens in front of him. For whatever reason, the reaction makes you angry — inexplicably so. You’re slinging up to the platform before you can have a second thought about it, and you’re pushing his shoulder so he’ll face you, so he’ll acknowledge you.

He stares at you, unimpressed.

“Send me back to my earth.” You press, brows furrowed beneath your mask, but you’re sure he can see the anger in the way your shoulders tense up.

“Sure,” Miguel said blankly, staring at you as if you’d suddenly change your mind or something. “But you know, there’s a lot more like her.” He added on when you said nothing, waiting for him to send you back to your world so you could give him back the stupid watch still wrapped around your wrist.

You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “There are no more like her.” You respond, feeling that hot press on your chest. You don’t want to talk about Gwen Stacy anymore than you’re sure he’d like to talk about whatever he had gone through in his life. Hell, you don’t even want to think about her, but you know that nobody else you would ever have to face would hurt you in the way that she did. In the way that having to see her as an enemy, rather than your friend, had hurt. So, yeah, there was nobody like her, not for you.

Miguel seems ready to let you go for a moment, but then he’s shaking his head at you. “You have a place here. You can be with people like you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.” He says, and you think that is ironic, because you don’t see anybody else in here. To you, it seems like he is doing exactly that; doing the job alone. You can practically see the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I prefer being alone.” You tell him, and it has to be true. It has to be.

His jaw sets, acceptance, you think, and he nods. He glances past you, to where a portal was open on the floor below. Considering that you hadn’t seen him set up the portal, you’d wager that his AI Lyla must’ve listened in and done it for him. You pull the watch off of your wrist, relishing in the way your very atoms seem to sag with the weight of being in another dimension.

“Thanks.” You say, and drop down, landing on your sore ankle but not murmuring a word about the pain. You walk back to your world with your head held high, despite your tattered suit and multitude of wounds that would take days to stop hurting.

Miguel stares after you as the portal closes, eyebrows furrowed. He barely acknowledges Jessica Drew’s arrival in the room, already having known she had been lingering in the hallway, listening in. “Well, that went well.” She comments, glancing between where the portal had been and where Miguel stands, brooding. She knows how much pressure he puts on himself, and she knows that he cares about each and every Spider-person in the multiverse. It doesn’t take a Spider-sense to see the way in which you struggle. It’s a familiar struggle, sure, but there were so many Spiders across the multiverse who had a shoulder to lean on in their hardest times. Who did you have? There was no Aunt May for Arachnid, or Gwen Stacy, or Harry Osborne, or, well, anybody.

Jessica thinks that if anybody were to know exactly how that felt, it would be Miguel.

#heartpascal writes #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv spoilers #spiderman atsv spoilers #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x platonic reader #jessica drew x platonic reader #peter b parker x platonic reader #peter b parker x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x platonic reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse imagines #spiderverse one shot #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse angst #miguel o’hara angst #struggling idk how to tag with a new fandom shhh