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crystal-bytes · 6 months

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GIFTOBER 2023

DAY THIRTY-ONE: FREE CHOICE

A timeline of DONALD GLOVER and MILES MORAELS

Spider-Man 3 (2007) / The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) / Donald Glover: Weirdo (2012) / Community 2x01 "Anthropology 101" (2010) / Ultimate Fallout #4 (2011) / "Not Going Back" Live Performance (2011) / Ultimate Spider-Man 3x11 "The Spider-Verse: Part Three" (2015) / Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017) / Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) / Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023)

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djarin · 1 month

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Just let me go. Anything but... knives!

The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) dir. Marc Webb

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kitherondale · 7 months

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Andrew Garfield as Peter Parker The Amazing Spider-Man 2012 | dir. Marc Webb

#the amazing spider-man #tasmedit #tasm #spidermanedit #marveledit #filmgifs #moviegifs #filmedit #cinematicsource #useradie #underbetelgeuse #userconstance #userbbelcher #*#spider-man

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peterparkerslefttesticle · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022

Prompt: Dry Humping

Pairing: Peter Parker x afab!reader

Summary: Peter doesn’t think he could come from just dry humping, you prove him wrong.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

Authors note: personally i thought of tasm!peter while writing this but any of them can work. this is basically 2am thoughts, not edited.

“i’m sorry, but there’s no fucking way someone could make me come from dry humping me.” peter splutters a laugh.

for the last hour, the two of you had been laughing over your tragedy of a love life.

“i mean, you totally would after a while, but he came after like two minutes of me grinding on him,” you wipes the tears from your eyes. “honestly it’s kinda flattering.” getting up to grab a drink from the fridge, peter narrows his eyes at you.

“i mean, i don’t think i could come from dry humping. like i don’t care how hot the girl is, there’s no way,” he laughs again.

“i don’t know parker,”

“what do you mean you don’t know? grinding with clothes on doesn’t even feel that good,”

“i bet i could make you come,” the room falls silent, and glancing at peter you realise his baffled look. “what? i wasn’t saying i will, i was saying i could.” you nonchalantly resume your position on the sofa, pulling open the tab of your soda

“sorry to bruise your ego, but there’s literally no way. maybe after like an hour, but i doubt you’d make it that long without begging me to fuck you,” it was your turn to be surprised. you’d never felt like this before, or at least not because of peter.

well, of course there was that time he walked out of the shower dripping, towel hung low. oh and there was that time he gave you a hickey, as a dare of course. there’s no way peter fucking parker, your best friend, was turning you on. right?

“so you’re saying, if i got on top of you right now, there’s no way you’d come.” you’re smirk was so strong it almost hurt your cheek.

“that’s exactly what i’m saying”

“then let’s test out your theory”

before he can even blink, you’ve swung a leg over his lap, now straddling him.

“you can tell me if you want me to get off.” you stare at each other, almost daring the other to break.

“i mean, if this is the only way we can see who’s right, we have to do it i guess,” his eyes are glassy and pupils blown out. beneath your cunt a small twitch bellows from beneath his pants.

you hop off his lap, shimmying down your jeans. peters look of bewilderment dialled up even more, if that was even possible.

“it’s not fair with jeans on,” you strip down to a pair of pink panties, lace trimming the edges.

“what? that’s cheating…” peter says barely above a whisper as you reach for the loop of his belt.

now both pants-less, you sit back on his lap, and he hisses as your heat sits on the thin layer between his cock

“it’s not too late to admit that you would come from dry humping” you taunt, pushing down slightly.

“never.”

you start slow, moving rhythmically along his dick, feeling every vein through the thin undergarments

peters eyes close and he throws his head back

“shit. i wasn’t expecting it to feel like this.” a particularly well placed grind makes him thrust up, hitting your clit just right

an almost pornographic moan leaves your chest, making peter moan in turn.

your grinding becomes faster, harder, and in tandem with peters thrusts

“sure you won’t come?” you trail your nails over his chest, asking for permission to take his shirt off.

he pulls it off in one swift movement before answering. “i told you. never.” his brown locks stick to his forehead, a thin layer of sweat sheathing his skin

the now accessible skin of his chest is now free real estate, and the trailing of your nails, gently drifting over his nipples down to his happy trail seems to be torturing him.

it annoys you though that he won’t look at you, opting to throw his head back, eyes closed.

it does however, give you an idea

you practically rip your shirt off, stiff nipples pointing straight up.

“pete, look at me,”

and now he can’t keep his eyes off you.

as if he’s never seen tits before, his eyes boggle as you continue sliding your cunt up and down.

a mixture of his precum and your wetness aids these movements, and peter thinks he could die happily right now.

but he remembers why this is all happening in the first place.

he can’t come

but he needs to come.

the slick, dirty sounds that come from below, the smell, the sensation, it’s all too much for poor pete.

“touch me,” you whisper, attempting to maintain dominance, but it’s getting hard to focus on anything with the coil building up in your stomach

peters shaky hands palm your tits, pinching your nipples and caressing your side.

“i can’t.. s’ too much..” he struggles to speak as your grinding gets deeper, shifting angles slightly.

“what’s too much. spit it out baby,”

“m’ gonna cum,” peters never felt this before. he’s been with girls. he’s fucked girls. and yet nothing has felt this overwhelming, this overstimulating, this good.

“come for me peter. i want you to come on my pussy.”

a warm burst hits your core as you spasm on his dick. your simultaneous orgasms hit like a tonne of bricks. the thick spurts of cum soak your underwear, more than previously thought possible.

you rest your head on peters shoulder, gasping for air.

“told you so,”

“fuck you,”

“next time.”

#marvel #smut #peter parker smut #spiderman smut #marvel smut #mcu #mcu smut #avengers smut #andrew garfield #andrew garfield smut #tasm smut #tasm #the amazing spider-man #tom holland #tom holland smut #mcu peter parker #toby maguire #the avengers

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literaila · 5 months

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i’ll tell you in the morning

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

“you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

warnings: overly considerate peter, scheming reader, fluff and stuff

*

“you’re supposed to be in bed.”

his voice rolls, like a click on a cassette, and you know that peter is not really there.

because it’s all a little blurry. his voice, the door opening, the feeling when he kneels down next to you, his breath hot in your ear.

it’s all some remanent of a dream. a brief moment where you might wake up, but decide not to.

“i’m serious,” his voice ebbs and flows, waving in and out, like your consciousness. “you know i don’t like it when you wait up for me.”

you groan and roll even further into the couch. your face is smushed, and your hair is a mess, sweaty because you’re drowning under every blanket in the house. it smells like cotton, and peter’s deodorant, and potato chips that you probably dropped through the cushions.

you dig your nose in deeper, trying to get back to that dream.

peters probably not actually there, you think, because if he was he would’ve kissed you awake. his hand would be lazily running through your hair, and his body would be pressed against yours. you would be cuddling by now.

real peter is much nicer than dream peter, who shakes your shoulder, albeit massaging you right afterward. “c’mon, bug, we’re going to bed.”

“sleeping,” you mumble, pulling away from him.

dream peter continues to try and wake you up, while you wonder—amidst the dream, no doubt—when real peter will be home. you want to be drowning in his collarbone instead of your own sweat.

there’s a kiss next to your ear. “you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

“we’ll see if you’re saying that in the morning, when your neck is bent the wrong way,” he whispers, and rests his head against yours. you feel it as he breathes out, relaxes. almost like he’s purring into your ear.

so you keen into him, a bit awkwardly, considering that it’s his forehead. “why’d you wake me up?”

“you can’t sleep here.”

“c’mere,” you murmur to him, your hand wrapping around the back of his neck, fingertips just brushing his hair. “cuddle with me.”

“being cute isn’t going to stop me from moving you.”

“peter,” you try and push him away, “go to bed.”

“why are you out here?” his nose trails down your hair, to your neck. “it’s almost four in the morning.”

you ponder this, and decide that you don’t really remember what you were doing before you fell asleep here, with your hand shoved in the crook of your neck. “the beds cold,” you slur, head falling back into the cushions as you doze.

“that’s because all of the blankets are out here. why didn’t you turn the heat up?”

he’s playing with some baby hair by your ear now, trying to lull you to sleep, probably, because he loves you.

“i was waiting for you,” you whisper this like a prayer, “and now you’re here.”

“you waited in the wrong spot. i would’ve come to bed with you. there’s no room for me here,” he smiles when you finally turn your head towards him. he’s got a smudge on his nose, and his eyes are sunken in—aged from exhaustion.

“i know.”

you’re both whispering. trying not to wake that drowsy, lovesick part of yourself right now.

“hmm?” he leans into you, nose brushing your cheek. almost like he’s breathing you in. “what, bug?”

“i wanted to fall asleep with you.”

then his eyes are wide open, and he leans back, brows furrowed in a tight line. “i told you i was going out.”

you muse at his confused face, and lean back towards him. “i know. i didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“you could’ve called.”

“i’m not going to interrupt your repertoire with a burglar at midnight. it’s rude.”

“not to me.”

you tsk, and lean away, back into the pillow comforting you while simultaneously scheming to ruin your morning.

“you need more sleep than i do,” peter adds, trying to keep you awake with his sheer willpower, his hands squirm under your shoulders. “we’ve talked about this.”

“no, you threatened to tell my mom—“

“that’s not what i said,” peter interrupts, groaning into the sofa.

“that i wasn’t getting enough sleep. and i said that you could make your own decisions, but that i wasn’t going to stop waiting up for you.”

“it makes me feel bad,” he ignores your gentle protesting. “i don’t want to keep you up.”

“peter, it’s not like you’re out dancing with strippers.”

he laughs, unexpectedly. and you grin back at him, with a sheer conviction undiluted by any hints of remaining sleep.

“you’re up helping people. i don’t mind waiting for you,” you emphasize this by leaning in to kiss his forehead, tasting sweat and not minding at all.

“you’re going to be tired tomorrow. when did you fall asleep?”

you acknowledge your win for what it is, and sit up on the couch, looking around your apartment like you can’t remember where you are. “probably an hour ago. i didn’t know when you’d be home, and i waited a while, but then i moved to the couch so you’d have to wake me up if i fell asleep.”

“so this was an elaborate scheme, huh?” peter laughs at you as his teeth graze your cheek. his chaste kiss makes you warm.

“i learned from the best.”

peter chuckles against you, and the two of you sit like that for a moment. calculating each others breathing like there’s something you might miss, however brief.

and then you smile at him, and he smiles back. “bed?” he asks you, softly, fingertip running against the skin of your jaw. you nod.

his arms wrap around you as he picks you up, your head rested comfortably on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist.

“i’m leaving you on the couch next time,” he threatens as he walks, “just so you know.”

“then we’ll both wake up with sore backs. not just you.”

peter snorts. “i didn’t say i would be there.”

“like you can sleep without me.”

he doesn’t say anything to that, but you feel him murmur in your hair suspiciously.

peter sets you down on the bed softly, pushing your legs so you’ll lay down, then covering you with the comforter. he tucks you in like any average middle aged dad.

when you grin he nods, very satisfied with himself.

“i’m just gonna change,” he says, taking a step back.

“hurry. i’m tired.”

“now, look who’s talking,” he shakes his head, but moves swiftly to the bathroom. you hear it as he runs the sink, as he bangs his foot on something and curses, and when he pads back into the bedroom, looking like a young child sneaking out of bed in his pajamas.

you laugh. “where did you get those?”

peter looks down to himself. to the many cartoon styled spider-man’s dancing across his cotton pajama set. “what? this old thing.”

“i don’t think i can be seen in public with you if you’re wearing that.”

“we are in the privacy of our bedroom,” he points out.

“i don’t think i can be in the same room with you if you’re wearing that.”

peter shakes his head, pouting like he’s disappointed, but he slips the shirt off, a concession he’s apparently willing to make.

though you don’t doubt that there are ulterior motives to this move.

“c’mon,” you whine to him, “i’m cold.”

“you’re so needy.”

you roll your eyes, but sink into him as he shuffles from beside you, laying his head near yours. “you’re not coddling me.”

“i’m so very sorry, my dear,” he whispers, and wraps his arms around you.

“shh,” you nuzzle your nose into his neck, and murmur against his hot skin. “i want to go back to the dream i was having.”

peter must be laughing at you, you can tell, even slightly asleep, because something jostles you.

“what was it about?”

you smile against him, listening to his heart like a hymn you’re devoted to. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”

he whispers something, brief, a whisper in the quiet of the room. but you feel the words as he settles into the bed, his calloused hands running over your skin.

and you fall asleep; hands clutching the others heart.

*

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dailymarvelgifs · 1 month

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The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)

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kamwashere · 2 years

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still waiting for their live action rom-com

#spideypool #spider-man #deadpool #wade wilson #peter parker #tasm #dp #the amazing spider-man #marvel #kamwashere

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andrew3garfield · 8 months

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDREW GARFIELD <3

— August 20, 1983 🎂

I realized that after finding this thing that allowed me to express myself - acting - and being encouraged by a few people that I could do it, I had kind of grabbed onto it and dug in my claws in a way that was maybe a bit unhealthy. I allowed myself to get into a headspace where I lived or died by what I achieved in this particular field.

#i thought the 20th was next week😫 i panicked severely in the past hours but here it is. something at least<3 #for the best 🥺🥺🥺🥺💓#andrew garfield #andrewgarfieldedit #andrewgarfieldgifs #the amazing spider-man #peter parker #under the silver lake #under the banner of heaven #the social network #cinema #actors #useranna3 #🫀

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baltharino · 1 month

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The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014)

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honoure-1 · 2 months

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I wish to stress that this record in no way endorses a belief in the occult

#harry osborn #spider-man #green goblin #the amazing spider-man #my art #yeah it's a redrawing of spirit phone #spiderman

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spiderspunkoriginal · 8 months

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I’m really funny

#spiderman #peter parker #harry osborn #parksborn #spiderman raimi #tasm peter parker #Raimi peter Parker #Raimi Harry Osborn #TASM #the amazing spiderman #tasm 2 #The amazing spider man 2 #the amazing Spider-Man #raimiverse #raimiverse harry #raimi trilogy

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fallout-lou-begas · 2 months

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As a comic artist myself (read @ikroah), something that I keep stopping to admire about Dungeon Meshi so far is its use of vertical bleed in page composition. It's usually just used for extra room on complicated panels, or for emphasis, like this spread demonstrates quite well:

And usually these vertical bleed panels are just one or two per page, but sometimes they'll be the main type of panel on a page. On the page below, you can see the way that the vertical bleed both exaggerates the descent in the top row of panels and gives extra room for very narrow "camera angles," and then crucially, the vertical bleed on the bottom row of wider, more square panels balances the overall composition. If you remove the bleed from the bottom panels, not only do you crucially iss out on half of Laius' pose, but the whole page seems like it got misaligned at the printer:

Vertical bleed panels will very often be used as the first or the last panel on a given page because they can have a transitory effect between pages or scenes, especially when used to introduce a new location or scene. These two pages from the first chapter, and then the two pages that immediately follow the page above, demonstrate:

And horizontal bleeds, while less common, are also present (see the above page on the right, and the top page on the right). This next page has a particular use of a full horizontal bleed combined with vertical bleeds that really impresses me because of how elegant it splits the page composition artistically and tonally, with vertical bleeds on opposite corners of the page for balance. You can see how without the full bleeds, not only do those panels feel way too tight individually (even the first one, where the bleed was mostly empty space anyway), but the whole page gets a lot more claustrophobic. And while it's not bad, it's definitely a bit more staid and boxy than the dynamic, full-bleed version in the actual comic.

The shape of Senshi's knife and the (implied) trajectory of the mandrake head are incredibly subtle eyeguides built into the artwork!

One final note about full vertical bleeds is that their use often reminds me of the way that newspaper comics will elide panel borders entirely for similar utility: more space in the individual panel, more interesting composition overall, and that effect it has on establishing or transitioning to a scene. Here's come Calvin & Hobbes strips that do it, for example:

And while full bleeds (except occasional splash pages) are much less common in my own mother tongue, classic superhero comics (mostly due to how they were and to a degree still are printed, I figure), you can still see some of these principles displayed in this sample of incredible pages from one of my favorite single comic book issues, Amazing Spider-Man #229.

#dungeon meshi #loumeshi #calvin and hobbes #spider-man #the amazing spider-man #advice #comics

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djarin · 1 year

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ELIO’S 2.5K PARTY ★ ANDREW GARFIELD as PETER PARKER ↳ for @fawad-khan 🐸

On behalf of the fine people of New York and real rhinos everywhere, I ask you to put your mechanized paws in the air!

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kitherondale · 9 months

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The Amazing Spider-Man 2 2014 | dir. Marc Webb

#the amazing spider-man 2 #the amazing spider-man #tasmedit #tasm2edit #filmgifs #filmedit #moviegifs #marveledit #cinematv #filmtvdaily #usermorgan #userjoss #tuserrachel #usermandie #userconstance #usernowz #*#spider-man

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current-comix · 14 days

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#the Amazing Spider-Man #comic book cover art #marvel comics #marvel #comics #spider-man

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literaila · 5 months

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hey v ! what about peter and reader getting ready to go somewhere and after reader puts on some red lipstick peter can't stop kissing her ?

lipstick

warnings: ugh, peter

*

“how many times have you done that?”

peter is standing behind you, leaning against the wall, probably ruining your focus, or your makeup, or your sanity. he’s probably staring just to mess with you.

you refrain from smiling in the mirror. wipe a smudge with your nail. “i don’t know, peter,” you meet his eyes, and his nefarious smirk. “how many times have you watched me do it?”

“i got lost somewhere around the first time.”

you laugh at him, crumbling the napkin you’ve been using, now filled with kiss marks, and turning it around so you can throw it at peter. “are you sick?” you ask him.

instead of answering, he licks his lip and unfolds the napkin, staring at the red marks, creases and tireless efforts arranged in a messy pattern. “this is like art.”

“why are you acting like you’ve never seen anyone wear lipstick before?”

“what?” he asks, hand to his chest. “i cant watch you get ready? i’m banned from being in the bathroom when you are?”

“yes, and yes.”

it does not escape your notice when peter tucks the napkin into his pocket for safekeeping.

he shrugs. “i don’t mind breaking the rules.”

you scoff at him and pat his shoulder as you walk past him through the doorway. “i would’ve locked you out if i knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“weird? how am i being weird?”

“you were lurking. you’re still lurking.”

“i’m talking to my girlfriend. that’s part of our contract.”

“you’re following me.”

peter smiles. “well, i like you.”

you roll your eyes, almost—almost—smiling when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “please don’t make me argue about your stalker like tendencies.”

“we don’t have to argue,” peter says, kissing the space beneath your ear. his breath is hot.

“i need to put my shoes on, peter.”

he smiles, his teeth clashing against your skin like a dreadful reminder. some type of jumpscare—minus the fact that you merely lean into him, sans jumping. “we can spare fifteen minutes.”

“how can you be thinking about anything besides the fact that we’re already late to meet may?”

he nibbles on the skin by your collarbone, then licks it, as reprieve. “it must be the lipstick.”

“you’ve literally seen me with lipstick before. i wore some on our first date.”

“‘s probably why i like it so much.”

his lips are needy as they crawl around your skin. his hands are stationary, but they pose their own threat as they lurk.

“peter, we have to go.”

“i’m not known for my punctuality,” he spins you around, his lips curled in mischief, “you know.”

“i’m aware.”

you refuse to indulge him. your brows furrow, your hands held in the air—just so you can avoid accidentally touching him. purposefully.

“then why are you so worried?” peter asks, kissing your cheek.

“i’m not kissing you,” you say, instead of answering.

“you’re not?” peter pouts like a child. he is far too grown.

“no.”

“how come?”

you try to pull away from him, but, shockingly, peter is stronger than you are. your will is weak. “you’re going to smudge my lipstick. i just finished.”

“you have more, don’t you?”

“not the point.”

“what?” he asks, his voice so serious and teasing. “you don’t want to kiss me?”

“no, i do not.”

you look away from him, admiring a wall that has always been there.

“are you sure?” peter asks, ducking so he can catch your eyes again, because he is nothing if not cruel.

you break, pouting. “peter,” you whine, “we’re not going to be late again.”

“i think we are.”

“you can kiss me when we get home later,” you promise, trying again to wiggle out of his grasp.

“that is a terrible compromise.”

“you won’t compromise,” you snap back. “what else am i supposed to do?”

peter grins, tilting his head. “okay. i have an idea. how about i kiss you, and then we leave? you don’t even have to kiss back, even though we’d both prefer it that way.”

“i’ll kiss you,” you mock him. “you’re the worst negotiator i’ve ever met.”

“then how come we haven’t left yet?”

you scowl at him, and he scowls back, but his eyes are alight.

your skin is ravenous with an ache to touch him, he’s so close that kissing him would be nothing—merely breathing, really—but you don’t want to lose this game to peter. and you dont want him to stop looking at you.

he pretends to check a watch. “hmm, it’s getting awfully late.”

“are you british all of the sudden?”

peter grins, biting his lip before he tries to bite you. you lean away. “if you like my accent, all you have to do is say so.”

“i like it when you get out of my way, and stop trying to sabotage me. i like that a lot.”

“no clue what you mean, dear.”

you roll your eyes and manage to cross your arms in his hold.

“i wonder how we could solve this,” peter muses, tapping his finger on your waist. “it’s a big problem.”

“i could leave you behind and have lunch with may myself.”

“that’s one option.”

you roll your eyes again.

“i was thinking something else, though,” peter says, and he’s closer now, but you’re sure that you never saw him move. “something more… proactive.”

“shove it, peter.”

“you don’t even want to hear it?”

you sigh, leaning your chest into him, out of pure delusion. “fine. what?”

peter smiles at you, eyes catching eyes.

the look on his face is soft, delirious. he’s got that look in his eyes, and that smile on his face, and he’s still staring at you like he’s mesmerized by whatever you’re doing.

“what?” you repeat, but softly, like you can’t find your voice in the chest cavity peters taken hold of.

“kiss me,” he says, softly, and it’s really not your fault that his lips are already brushing yours.

and it’s not your fault when you lean in, sighing in relief at the mere feel of him.

you’re almost breathless, from the tiniest of kisses.

but then you kiss peter again, and again, and your hands finally wrap around him—keeping hold of something real in this fake reality—and your voice isn’t your own when you groan at peter for making you do this.

you have evacuated your body. you have lost common sense.

but it doesn’t matter, because kissing peter has always made you forget all of that.

and it still does, when he pulls back, grinning like he’s won. “see?” he says, voice ragged. “it was simple.”

“we’re going to be late and it’s your fault.”

peter laughs, kissing you again, staring at your red lips. “gladly. i’ll take all the blame.”

“and you’re making it up to me later.”

“whatever you say,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

he releases you and watches as you finally put on your shoes.

you don’t think it necessary to mention the red marks on his lips. it’s not like it’s your fault they’re there.

*

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