How it feels telling people I use tumblr in the big 26
almost home
ojovivo
Peter Solarz

JVL
Sade Olutola
đȘŒ
NASA
KIROKAZE
RMH
art blog(derogatory)
todays bird
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
cherry valley forever
One Nice Bug Per Day
h
$LAYYYTER

Product Placement

titsay

oozey mess

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@suohime
How it feels telling people I use tumblr in the big 26
The byers family will always be special to međĄ
When I saw Steve in a suit during the epilogue I verbally said out loud âDAMNâ
.but then during the graduation scene I realized he kinda looked like frank heffley if he was younger so thereâs that.
âI knew that door had a lock on it, And everybody was trying to make me feel like I was losing my mindâ
Steveâs still hot as fuck tho.
(Iâll still smash btw)
Steve with cap backwards and sweater has me on chokehold đ
â86, baby! â89, baby!
STRANGER THINGS 4.01: The Hellfire Club | 5.08: The Rightside Up
never the one
park humin (baku) x fem! reader (one shot) | whc 2 â
pairing: park humin (baku) x fem! reader
wc: 3.6k
genre: hurt/comfort, fluff
warnings: usage of y/n, intended lowercase, for storytelling purposes they arenât attending an all boys school, includes a made up non-canon character, unrequited love (gotak/reader) but it has a good ending!
summary: you spend years loving gotak, never realizing that baku was quietly loving you just as fiercely, until heartbreak makes you finally see whoâs been truly choosing you all along.
authorâs note: got asked a few times already to write something for baku, so here it is! hope youâre going to enjoy reading this one ⥠this story is actually inspired by a random tiktok edit of vampire diaries that iâve seen recently, however iâve never watched the actual show so itâs really only based on that one dialogue haha đ likes, comments and reblogs are super appreciated àŽŠà”àŽŠàŽżâ â© â.á
You have to be more careful.
Summary: Your roommate Peter comes home to your shared apartment late one night, more beaten up than you've ever seen him before. You patch him up and give him a lecture about being more careful; a conversation that leads to you confessing more than you had meant to. CW: Peter has some cuts & bruises and what not. Mentions of blood. gn!reader x tasm!Peter Parker (could be any Peter, just pictured it w/ Andrew's) Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Happy ending! 3.3k words masterlist
a/n: this is my favorite thing I have ever written. please enjoy, feedback is always appreciated :) <3
It was a cold and cozy October night; your bedroom window was cracked open to let in a nice breeze, and there was a fall-scented candle burning on your nightstand. Youâve spent the last hour or so at your desk, hunched over the English essay you have been working on for weeks, now at the final point where all thatâs left is to go through and check your grammar, substitute some words, and finalize your conclusion. Youâve been stuck trying to find a more essay-appropriate word for âweirdâ for the last few minutes, and are now just about ready to give up and let tomorrow-you deal with it. You drop your pencil and let out a frustrated sigh, running your hands through your hair.
Itâs a Friday night and you had spent the afternoon with Peter cleaning out the fridge and kitchen cabinets. You were glad to have a roommate that didnât make you do all the cleaning yourself; Peter never complained about your insistent need to make sure the apartment was clean at all times.Â
You lift your head up from your hands to glance at the digital clock on your desk, only to find that itâs almost 2 am. A pang of anxiety dissipates from your chest; Peter should be home by now.Â
You decide to ignore the worry before it can grow any larger, trusting Peter and his ability to stay safe, and pick your pencil back up to try and get this damn essay done and over with.Â
âEccentric!â You whisper-yell to yourself, the word you've been searching for the last 10 minutes finally coming to you. And with that, your essay is complete (at least, until you decide at the last minute to re-read it and change just a couple more things...)Â
You smile to yourself, proud that you got done what you wanted to and happy that you could finally get back the book youâve been itching to finish all evening.Â
Right as you sit on your bed, after grabbing the book from your backpack, you hear a rustling noise outside your window.Â
Thatâs odd, you think to yourself, knowing that it could be Peter, but also confused, because he usually comes in through his own bedroom window.Â
Once again, you decide to ignore the distraction and blame it on a possible squirrel, but right as you open your book to the dog-eared page, a knocking sound comes from your window. This time, you know for certain itâs Peter.Â
Your eyebrows pinch in confusion, but you get up to go unlock the window nonetheless, forgetting until you reach it that itâs already open.Â
âItâs open, you can come in,â You say and squint, struggling to see Peter no thanks to the dim moonlight. His face is difficult to make out, but you can just barely see the pained expression painted on it.Â
Peter nods and moves to open the window wider, lifting a leg up to maneuver his way inside. Before he can though, his hand thatâs rested on the windowsill slips and he nearly falls flat on his face into your room.Â
âWhoaa,â you laugh slightly, gently grabbing his arms to help him get the rest of his body inside. He lets out a wince as your fingers make contact with his shoulder, but is able to set both feet on the floor.Â
Now that heâs in the slightly-less dim lighting of your room, you can make out his face - or rather, you can make out the countless scrapes and bruises littering his face and body.Â
Your hand instinctively shoots up to your mouth to cover a gasp, Peter sliding down the wall and to the floor, unable to hold himself up. You crouch in front of him and hover a hand to the side of his face.Â
âHoly shit, Peter, what the hell?âÂ
He lets out a soft laugh, immediately wincing at the pain it causes. âYou should see the other guy,â he grunts, his head falling back as he brings a hand to rest above one of the larger gashes on his abdomen.Â
Your hands hesitate in front of you, not sure whether it would help to touch him, or where.
âPeter,â you decide on letting one of your hands brush just below a slash on his upper arm, but immediately pull back when he sucks in a breath. âI- um, we need to get you to the bathroom. Can you stand?âÂ
He nods slightly, moving his hands to the ground to push himself up, but quickly losing his balance and leaning into you for support.Â
âOh my god,â you whisper to yourself; Peter has come home beaten up before, but itâs never been this bad.Â
âHere,â you say to Peter, cautiously moving your arm around his waist, âUm, put your arm around my shoulder. Come on.âÂ
You do your best to help him to the bathroom across the hall, stumbling a few times on the way and having to pause just once so Peter could lean against the wall and catch his breath. Heâs really beaten up and you can see that heâs clearly out of it.Â
Once in the small room, you lead him over to the closed toilet seat and help him sit down. When youâre sure heâs situated and know he isnât going to fall over, you rush to the sink cabinet to find the first aid kit you had stashed the day you discovered his secret identity, knowing that it was bound to come in handy to either one of you at some point.Â
Crouching on your knees in front of the toilet, you lay the bag open on the floor and turn your attention back to the wounded boy sitting in front of you.
Peterâs eyes are closed, one of his hands holding his stomach and the other arm trying to brace himself against the wall. His breathing is ragged, and you worry that heâs going to pass out from exertion. Or blood loss, honestly. The only parts of his body that are visible to you are the ones that have been exposed by the massive gashes on his sides, and youâre scared to see what else the red and blue suit might be hiding.Â
âPeter,â you say softly, bringing a hand to brush some of the fallen hair out of his face. âI need you to take your suit off. I canât clean you up with it in the way.âÂ
He nods, raising his head to look at you. The panicked expression on your face isnât hidden as much as you would like it to be, and Peter feels guilty about making you see him like this.Â
You get up once again to help him stand, and he holds himself up using the wall and the cabinet next to him. You gently begin to remove the suit from his shoulders, working down to his waist and finally helping him step completely out of the torn up material. Peter hisses and holds his breath every time the dried blood on his suit is peeled away from his skin, you whispering strands of apologies the entire minute it takes to rid him completely of the spandex. Once his body is completely uncovered aside from his boxers, you help him sit back down, Peter shivering when his skin makes contact with the cold ceramic.Â
You sit on your knees once more and are finally able to take in the severity of his wounds. Tiny scrapes and cuts litter almost every inch of his skin, but even worse are the places where his already scarred skin has split open from whatever monster he was fighting barely fifteen minutes ago. You bite your bottom lip to stop it from quivering and for the first time, doubt your ability to help your best friend.Â
âPeter,â your voice cracks and comes out barely above a whisper. You donât know what you could possibly say to comfort him. There was no way, even with his spider-given abilities, that Peter wasnât in the most excruciating pain of his life right now.Â
âIâm okay,â He whispers back, reaching to hold one of your shaking hands. You let him, and he brings it up to his busted lip, softly pressing a kiss to your palm. âI promise, theseâll heal in a few days. Week tops. Just needs a little cleaning up for now.â Peter looks into your eyes and tries to give you a reassuring smile.Â
You nod, sniffing and wiping off the few tears that have fallen from your worried eyes. You find the cleaning wipes from the first aid kit and begin wiping away some of the excess blood around the probably hundreds of cuts. Peter tries, but fails, to hold in the gasps and near whimpers that escape his mouth.Â
âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry. I know, I know, Iâm almost done. Iâm so sorry.â You try to find whatever words you can to comfort Peter and hide how nervous you are, but youâre ultimately unable to hold back the tears that have been threatening to spill since he came through your window.Â
Peter tries to distract himself from the stinging pain of your cleaning by keeping his eyes on your face, but another type of pain invades his chest when he sees you crying and notices how much your hands are shaking. He knows how hard it is for you to see anyone like this, let alone your best friend. He whispers your name and tilts his head to force your teary eyes to meet his own.
âHey, I need you to know that Iâm okay. Iâm going to be okay.â Peterâs hand comes to hold the side of your face and you lean into his touch, nodding but avoiding his eyes. âIâm sorry, I never wanted you to see me like this. I just didnât know what else to do.â His voice breaks at the end of his sentence and you finally look up to meet his eyes and see him crying just as much as you are. Itâs your turn to bring a hand up and wipe the tears from his bloody cheeks.Â
âItâs okay. Donât apologize. Iâm sorry, I just-â You sigh and bring your hands to your own face with a short, dry laugh. âYou have no idea how much you worry me, Peter.âÂ
You look into his eyes, and you start to feel a strange and unwelcome anger and resentment towards him for not being more careful and causing you to constantly have to worry this much. You shake your head in an attempt to rid the thoughts and continue cleaning off a gash on his chest, knowing now is definitely not the time to get mad at Peter, and try and focus on ridding him of blood, at least as much as possible.Â
âYou really just have to be more careful, Pete. And I know that you know your limits, but this,â you say, taking a deep breath and gesturing to his whole body, âit- it cannot be a constant recurrence. What if you get hurt so bad that you have to go to the hospital? I can only help you so much, how do you think youâre going to be able to explain getting this badly beaten up to a bunch of random nurses and doctors?âÂ
You finish cleaning the last wound and take out your frustration on roughly setting aside the wipes, moving onto bandaging as many of the injuries as you could.Â
Peter can tell youâve become a bit frustrated with him now. He runs his fingers through his hair, finally feeling his strength start to come back, both physically and mentally. Â
âY/n, I know that. I promise you, I am careful. This guy just came out of nowhere and I couldnât leave the fight without making sure I was positive that he wouldnât come back. You gotta trust me, I know what Iâm doing.âÂ
You hold back a scoff and look Peter in the eyes again, shaking your head. âI want to believe you, Peter, I really do. But this thing youâre doing is so dangerous, and Iâm scared you wonât realize just how much until itâs too late.â Your voice wavers at the end of your sentence, and you try to focus on how tight to wrap the gauze instead of how much your hands are still shaking.Â
Itâs Peterâs turn to hold back a scoff, despite feeling guilty and a bit embarrassed for the situation he put himself in. âYou donât think I know that? âThis thingâ that Iâm doing is not something I can just give up on, there are people counting on me.â He winces when a piece of gauze catches on a cut on his stomach, and you instinctively whisper an apology.Â
You breathe in a sigh, finishing up with the wrapping and moving onto the smaller lacerations on his arms.Â
âI know, Peter.â Your voice is coming out in a whisper now, not feeling up to arguing this late and with these circumstances. âBut I- a lot of people are counting on you to stay safe, too.âÂ
Peter sighs once more, knowing you have a point. âI know,â his volume matches yours. âIâm sorry. I need you to know that Iâm trying my best, though. Iâm just- Iâm not some little kid that you have to watch over, or like, constantly worry about. I can handle myself.âÂ
Peterâs words stung more than they should have, and you felt an odd pang of embarrassment for caring this much about him. He clearly didnât need it, and maybe this⊠relationship the two of you had didnât mean as much to him as it did to you.Â
You could feel your face flush as you let out a frustrated sigh, setting the now empty bandage box on the floor next to your knee and trying your hardest to not roll your eyes. You decided to use the frustration you felt towards him to cover up your embarrassment, even though you knew he didnât mean any harm by his words.Â
âWhatever, Peter.â You stand up, picking up the wrappers and gauze mess that you had made on the floor. âSorry I care,â you mutter, knowing youâre acting a bit rude, but not caring. How could he not see how much this shit affects you? Worrying about if he will make it home every night, wondering what will happen when he inevitably gets hurt so bad that he needs to be taken to the hospital, thinking about what will happen if he gets so badly hurt that even his healing abilities wonât save him.Â
Peter sighs at your words, hearing you even though your voice was quiet. âCome on, donât be like that,â he braced himself against the wall and stood up, finally getting enough strength back to not need your help. âYou know thatâs not what I meant.âÂ
You shake your head and crouch down to put the first aid supplies away, aggressively shoving the contents into the cabinet under the sink before closing its door a bit harshly.
âI just donât get how you donât see that this shit affects more than just you,â You stand up, looking Peter in the face, your mouth moving too fast, knowing youâre about to say something you regret. âAnd yeah, maybe thatâs a selfish thing to say, but I donât care anymore! I lie in bed, every single night, worrying that youâve gotten yourself into something so terrible that even you canât handle it. And no, thatâs not a stab at your abilities, because believe me Peter, I know you can take on a lot. I know you can handle yourself and donât need me to babysit you. But one of these days, if you keep this shit up, youâre going to get so badly hurt that I wonât be able to help you. Rubbing alcohol and bandaids only go so far, and I know you know that, so what the hell do you expect me to do when that day comes?? You leave me here to worry about you and then come home beaten up almost to the point of being unconscious and expect me just to patch you up and not bat an eye or have an opinion about it. I care about you so fucking much Peter, more than you know, and Iâm sorry if this is the wrong time to be saying this, but I donât know what I would do if I lost you. I-â Your voice broke at the end of your rant, only stopping to breathe in a short gasp, and you turned away from Peter to lean on the sink, forcing your gaze to the floor. You were right; your mouth had moved too fast to stop it from saying the words you had been keeping to yourself for almost a year now. And while a part of you felt awful for yelling at Peter, especially in his current state, you knew if you didnât speak your mind soon you would go insane.Â
Peter just stared at you, mouth slightly open like he wanted to say something, defend himself or make up an excuse, but he was at a loss for words. This⊠confession came as a total surprise to him, and he didnât know what to think.Â
âY/n, I-â He cut himself off, trying to find the right words to say. âI had no idea you-. Iâm sorry,â Peter spoke softly, a stark contrast to the volume you had spoken at, but he was too stunned to give a proper response. Too stunned to say what he really wanted; too shocked to confess that he cared about you too and never meant to make you feel like this- unappreciated and alone.Â
You shook your head, sighing before running your hands over your face as if trying to erase all of the emotions you were feeling right now. Embarrassment, anger, sadness, fear, hurt. And, to make matters worse, you had started crying again without even realizing it. Just another thing that made you wish you could crawl into a hole and never speak to anyone ever again.Â
âItâs fine, Peter. Iâm- Iâm sorry. I didnât mean to-â Again, you shake your head, too ashamed to meet Peterâs eyes. âIâm sorry. Iâm just- Iâm gonna go to bed,â voice barely above a whisper, you reach for the doorknob. The mortification of what you just confessed to your best friend was beginning to wash over you all at once.Â
You blew it. Your whole friendship with Peter? Gone. Might as well have never existed. All because you had to have a stupid fucking crush. God, how could you be so stupid?? You knew he didnât mean to make you worry. And Jesus, he was literally out saving lives every night and here you are complaining that you have to take care of him when heâs hurt.Â
âY/n, wait-â Peterâs voice was still soft, but had a new urgency to it that you almost couldnât ignore. Still, you kept your gaze down, softly shutting the bathroom door and walking as quickly as possible to your room, leaving Peter stunned and helpless in the cold and empty bathroom.Â
Once inside your room, you leaned against your closed bedroom door and covered your face with your hands. It took everything in you not to scream and throw something, anything, at your wall, but of course that would only make things a million times worse - Peter would think you were even more crazy than your speech had shown.Â
Utterly mortified and unable to think about anything else, you turned off your lights and went to bed. Or rather, lied in bed for 2 hours, rerunning your entire conversation with Peter a million times and wishing that you could go back and never say any of the things you did.
a/n: okay!! sorry, that was a long one. I am currently in the process of writing a part 2, let me know of any suggestions you might have :)) It will be a happy ending though, of course, and will hopefully be done within the next few weeks!! If anyone would like to be tagged when part 2 is posted pls lmk!! I LOVE YOUUU thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I am very proud of this one!! xoxo
Could you do tasm! Peter using this prompt from the fluff list: 23. âand who are you to tell me who i can and can't be with?â âi'm your future husband, and probably, father of your future children.â ? I love your writing
Man I Need
Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Summary: Peter crashes your first date after your breakup.
Warnings: Angst (hurt/comfort) + Peter and his stalkerish tendency.
Word Count: 1.9K
Author's Note: Thanks for the request, anon! I know this was from the fluff prompt list, but I did go very angsty. I hope you like it :)
Please comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more!
TASM!Peter Parker Masterlist
Tonight was your first date since the breakup and Peter was admittedly hurt by how quickly you were getting back out there. A month felt too soon to get back out there, especially when the two of you started speaking again.Â
Maybe it was foolish of him to assume that being on talking terms again meant that the door of your relationship hadnât fully closed, but he couldnât help but cling to the hope that the breakup was only temporary.Â
He knows he deserves the cold shoulder you were giving him now. He had fucked up over and over again, missing dates, movie nights, and small events that you later admitted were a big deal to you. He was a bad boyfriend, and tonight, he was a bad friend.Â
He had no good excuse for crashing your date the way that he did, aside from being a man in love.Â
Was it a bad idea to annoy one of your friends into telling him where you were having your date and then staking out the restaurant from a rooftop across the street? Yes.Â
[papamin au đ ] âuh-oh kento, i think he inherited your grumpy faceâ
Get you a man who will deliver your anemia medicine for you, volunteer for gruesome murders for you, set up a nice cozy tent in his massive house for you, conduct medical malpractice for you, recreate the sound of the wind through the trees for you, buy a funeral home for you, make fondue for you, gently hit a guy with his car in the rain for you,
toji fushiguro if he woke up and decided to shoot for olympic silver instead of the star plasma vessel đ€ đ
deep in the trenches that is thesis research
*cursing in cat* đ (part 2 of this)
congrats to this 30 second doodle surpassing 10k
YEAH ?
i can just imagine kento eating his wife out, and shes just casually talking about her day.
âoh my god she was so annoying, like she wouldnt shut up- ngh.. kento~ but then she gave me a piece of her chocolate and it was just the bestâ
âyeah?â kento stifles out, voice muffled from eating your cute little cunt.
âfuck~ yeah. ill have to ask her what~ ah..kind it is so you can try it. it was so goodâ shes pulling his hair at this point while she talks about the great chocolate she had.
âfuck you taste amazingâ kento groans, eyes rolling back as he sloppily eats your pussy.
âanyway, OH, i saw the cutest little puppy today ~ fuck kento im cumming- nghhâ
âfuckk yessâ kento moans. âwhat about the puppy baby?â
âoh! yeah, it was a little golden retriever!! it was so fluffy and cute!â she squeals.
âim glad you had a good day honeyâ kento kisses you, smiling.
âme too!! how was yours?â
nobara
this is so frEAKIng good LOOOOOK!!!!