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compacflt · 11 months

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i'm so curious: what's your favorite thing you've written? something that makes you nod and go, "yeah, that's it right there. i did that." just the best combination of words you've ever churned out in your personal opinion. it makes you proud just Thinking about it. could be a sentence, a paragraph, etc.

very cute ask anon, thank you. im going to assume for your benefit that you mean specifically my icemav writing—obviously I write outside of top gun and am very proud of that stuff but it wouldn’t make sense out of context.

There’s a lot of more recent stuff that I’m extremely extremely proud of on a technical level, but I’m prouder of this paragraph below on a deeper more existential level.

This paragraph was one of the first parts of WWGATTAI i ever wrote—august 12, i think, well before I had fully realized the characters’ voices or their attitudes towards life/each other; I only had about 5k written of what is now a 300k+ project (at the time of writing this paragraph i wanted it to be 10k max) and had no real outline, didn’t know who or what I was dealing with, hadnt seen TGM in two months, had done no research (so it’s not at all politically/militarily accurate or anything, why the FUCK is ice going to fucking GUAM)—and STILL this wound up being my favorite paragraph in the entire fucking series. not to suck my own dick or anything. I’m STILL so proud of this paragraph, 9 months and 275k+ words later, even though i Absolutely Would Not write it this way now.

#narrative distance both incredibly close and incredibly far #he’s trying to rationalize this whole situation and by extent the whole plot of his life #we’re inside his head as he tries to convince both Pete and himself of this huge huge lie #which is that leaving (right after he fucked their relationship and their best friend just died) is worth it for the navy’s sake #and it will make him a good man #in the masculine strong man leadership sense #and Pete (first name instead of last name; über vulnerable in the worst way because he’s crying yet doesn’t want to be seen crying)#counters all of this lie with—does it? does it really mean you’re a good man? it means you’re the weakest most subservient man i know #bending over backwards for the navy instead of your FAMILY #yeah i would absolutely not write this paragraph this way NOW but i am still so proud of what it represents in the story #& the very experimental 2nd person without quotation marks is i think done very well #at least for august 2022 me #some wording/phrasing/detail issues but other than that—a great paragraph!#again not to suck my own dick but you asked!#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #edts notes #asks #this is a terrible chapter in aggregate but it has some of the best diamond-in-the-rough moments in the whole series #ughhh the Pete this has nothing to do with Afghanistan; pete this has nothing to do with iraq etc line…. SOO good omg i love it sorry

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vaspider · 2 years

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Pete Buttigieg is just a faggot.

It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.

On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on.

I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'"

That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.

Never.

These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.

And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.

Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.

You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.

But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag.

That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died.

It was 1985, 4 years after the CDC first released papers on what would eventually become known as HIV/AIDS and 7 years after the first known death from an infection from HIV-2. Reagan hadn't even said the word AIDS by the time Hudson died.

Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I'm a dyke, which seems to depend on who's yelling what from which window and what day it is.

Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they're the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They're the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word "dyke" in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don't fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.

Most cishets, though... well, they don't actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you're right there in front of them. Maybe they'll be okay with you, personally, especially if you're the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.

They need people to know that they don't have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You're useful.

But they call you by your deadname when you're not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won't put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.

I didn't want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he'd advocated for that tattoo being "over their assholes."

(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.

Fucker.)

But yeah. I didn't want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven't given up.

I need you to know that, too. This isn't a white flag. I'm not surrendering. This isn't over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.

But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept.

The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.

That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.

The brunch gays can come, too, I guess.

#long post #uncensored slurs #slurs #homophobic slurs #ronald reagan's grave is a gender neutral toilet #lgbtq #queer #trans #transgender #fag #dyke #lgbt

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sacharinee · 11 months

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hi m!!! what do you think about bf!pete getting his wisdom teeth out? and the reader taking care of him?? hed be so funny lmao xxD

-🧸

pairing: bf!peter parker x reader w/c: 750 a/n: hi anon!! thnk u for requesting i had sm fun writing this! :)

you’re sat at the dentist's office, cooped up in those uncomfortable chairs while you anxiously waited for your boyfriend’s surgery to finish.

when peter ranted and moaned nonstop over his constant toothache, may decided enough was enough, and took it upon herself to set an appointment for her nephew. he wasn’t too keen on the idea. peter wasn’t afraid of anything ninety-nine percent of the time. dentists, however, wasn’t one of them.

“can’t you stay here with me?”

“stay? baby, no they’re gonna be drilling in your teeth.”

“but i-”

“and it’s gonna be bloody and nasty and i don’t wanna have to see all that.”

you turn towards him, only to come face to face with the boy’s horrified look, his eyes are wide and skin pale, mouth open in shock. you cringe at your response.

“but,” you stand, “you’re gonna do amazing, you’re gonna sit here and let the dentist do his magic.” you smile and lean down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead.

“y/n/n, wait but-” you drop his hand on the way out, “bye, love you baby! be good!”

“y/n!”

two hours later swing by when a woman in navy scrubs comes to get you, announcing that peter is out of surgery.

you knew that he would be high out of his mind on laughing gas, you just didn’t think it would be this bad.

when you enter, the dentist is off to the side, looking over charts, packing a care bag for his patient.

peter’s head lulls towards your touch on his shoulder and slowly blinks at your presence.

“hi baby, how you feeling?” you give him a beaming smile.

your boyfriend does his best to muster the same grin, but the amount of gauze in his mouth makes his rosy cheeks puff out, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth.

peter takes a moment to stare at you, “woaahh” he languidly slurs his words, “you’re so pretty.”

you giggle at the comment when the boy gasps in horror, “wait, wait, i have a girlfriend, and she’s-” he looks up at you worriedly and slaps his forehead, “i’m in trouble.”

you can’t help but let out a laugh, he’s so dopey.

your fingers touch the bottom of his chin gently and lift his head, “i’m your girlfriend, silly.”

a loud gasp escapes peter as his face turns ecstatic, “get out!” you giggle at his reaction, the dentist glances over at you two and offers an admiring smile.

“so do we have sex?”

the awkward silence in the room kills you.

your face blushes, as you shake your head and clear your throat, “peter, no.”

“no?!” he sighs in disappointment, “aw man.” your boyfriend pouts at the floor, “what have i been doing with my life.”

“oh my god, pete,” when the dentist turns away, you whisper and offer him a shrug, “sometimes we do.”

the delight on his face returns and his eyes go wide, “really?!”

the boy seriously has no filter.

as you’re packing his things, peter pauses and pokes his cheeks, “wait y/n,” he pauses, “my face kinda feels weird.”

you look around and hand him a mirror from the counter, “oh my god…” peter gingerly touches his face as you kneel down at him, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“my face… it’s so fat!” he’s got tears in his eyes and whining with a jutted bottom lip, “y/n,” sniffle. “will-” sniffle. “will you still love me if my face is so fat?”

you roll your eyes and smile at his antics, “of course, i would.”

he seems pleased with your answer because he’s back to smiling. you go back to packing his things. “hey, mr dentist,” he woozily slurs, the gauze is practically spilling out his mouth, “d’you know i’m spider-man?”

you mentally facepalm at his obliviousness and mutter, “jesus christ.”

you turn to the older man who’s chuckling at his mental state and shrug, “he also thinks he’s luke skywalker from star wars.”

“but i am!-” “okay bug boy, lets go.”

“where we going?”

“home, sweetie.”

he gasps eagerly and raises his eyebrows at you, “to have sex?”

“oh my god.”

soon after the dentist explains and hands you everything he needs to recover, you guide peter to the car.

he’s extremely dramatic.

he’s got his hands around your shoulders, dragging himself on the floor, acting like he can’t walk - which he definitely can.

“peter, i know you can walk. c’mon help me out,” you beg.

“no, i can’t" he moans, "carry me,” he demands.

“what? no,”

“why not?”

“because you’re too heavy.”

and he’s crying all over again, “i knew it! you hate me 'cause you think my face is too fat!”

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luveline · 3 months

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hi jadey would you do something with r peeling an orange for peter even though he’s perfectly capable of doing it for himself but she wants to do acts of service for him ☹️🫶

There are some bad boyfriends out there. Guys who’d rather argue, who won’t walk their girls to the door, who never help with the dishes. There are losers who expect things after they pay for dinner, and never say please.

Peter Parker is the polar opposite of all those men. Peter Parker gets home from a long day at work and a short shift as his crime-fighting alter ego and makes you a hot chocolate without asking how many marshmallows you want. “Hello,” he says, kissing you behind the ear as he comes around you from behind, the hot chocolate set carefully next to your laptop. “Did you hear me come in, or are you ignoring me?”

The former, for sure. You beam to yourself and twist in his hold to meet his eyes, brown and wide where they take you in. “Hello!” you say, not shouting, but certainly not whispering either. “I never hear you. You’re a cheater.”

“You have ears,” he says.

“And I choose not to use them.”

“You okay?” He gives your shoulder a concerned rub. When you nod, it turns to a quicker, softer patting. “Okay. I’m gonna make dinner, yeah? I’m starving.”

He’s strange in that he says ‘starving’ like he’s excited about the feeling. You nod and he nods back, tangible affection in the air between you before he presses his nose to your forehead and leaves.

You’re just a girl. You finish what you’d been working on as quickly as you can and close your laptop, sipping at the hot chocolate he’d made you with a smirk. Your boyfriend loves you a lot. He’s handsome and tall and smart but he fucking loves you; Peter comes home from a long day hungry and makes you a drink.

“My love.” You push open the kitchen door.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“I can make dinner.”

“No, that’s fine. I’m making it.”

“I can do it, Pete,” you say, putting your mug down on the counter.

“I’m gonna do it,” he says, taking your hands, moving you out of the way of the fridge. His smile is as sugary as his eyes. “You have hot chocolate to drink. Before it’s cold chocolate.”

“Boo.” You let him win reluctantly. He’s too strong, you argue to yourself smugly, he could totally take you in a fight. There’s never any winning with him.

Peter turns the oven on and lights the stovetop, a frying pan on the heat, a square of butter melting in the centre. He cuts the veggies swiftly, asking question from over his shoulder. How was your day, babe? Did you eat enough? Did that headache come back?

You lean on the counter and take a clementine from the fruit bowl. It was fine, you tell him, digging your fingers into the skin. Not much to say. I ate plenty. Headache stayed at home. The sharp citrus smell of torn pith hits the air as you peel the skin from the fruit's flesh. Then you spend a good five minutes taking off the stringy white bits as Peter fries your veggies with some leftover chicken from last night.

“Here,” you say, breaking the clementine into pieces.

“Oh, thank you,” he says, taking one from the well of your hand.

He eats it so fast you could argue he doesn’t taste it.

“It’s for you, Peter,” you say, putting the rest of the clementine on the chopping board next to the carrot tops. “I’ll peel you another one. I know one’s not enough for you.”

“Au contraire,” he murmurs, grabbing your waist, tugging you in, orange on his breath as you let him take your weight and move in. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Terrible,” you murmur back.

Peter’s grinning as he takes your face into his hand. He tips your head back, your heart fluttering just as much as it did the very first time he touched you like this, his eyes lit by a deep, unignorable sweetness for you. “Thank you,” he says. “You’re real nice to me, huh?”

“Thank you for the hot chocolate.”

“That wasn’t me. That was just sitting here when I got in.”

You wrap your arm around his neck to close him in. “Sure it was.”

“It was!” He kisses the corner of your mouth eagerly. Each word he says after is half smothered by the press of his lips on your cheek and the soft skin just below your eye as you laugh. “Wanna feed me as I stir? I think our dinner’s burning.”

“If you keep kissing me, then yeah. I’ll peel every orange in that bowl for you.”

Such a promise spurs another round of soft kisses.

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

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"Whiskey sour? Classy." - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

[TW: insults, harassment, explicit language]

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀 || TOPGUN-inspired playlist

SUMMARY: When new aviators arrive at the base, Rooster invites you to hang out with the Dagger Crew and the freshmen. One of the newcomers gets in over his head and Rooster gladly accepts the honour of bringing him down a peg: no one gets to talk trash to the eventual Mrs. Bradshaw.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k

"Hey, Bradshaw, where'd you leave wifey?" Hangman asked.

Although the group was disillusioned about the seriousness of your relationship, the nickname came into existence only after they witnessed you nagging at Bradley for being irresponsible after he came back with Maverick. Truthfully, he liked how it sounded - for you to be called his wife.

The Hard Deck was booming with life, filled with twice as many people as it usually was. It was supposed to be a sort of welcoming party for the newcomers but mixed with the locals - it was simply Miramar showing off its essence, the brash young blood pumping the town's atmosphere with new, exciting energy.

"Should be here any moment. Maybe I'll tell her you missed her."

"Careful, she might just run to me."

Bradley was about to continue the friendly scuffle with Jake but Pete tapped him on his shoulder and pointed you out in the crowd by the bar:

"Found your missus, kid."

For a moment, the whole world stopped just so Rooster could admire the woman he had the highest honour of calling his. You were wearing a thin bodycon dress - the very same one he associated with long, sleepless nights and the plethora of beautiful sounds you could make. The light, sunny yellow colour looked lovely on you, bringing summer heat into the onlookers' hearts. You wore the same makeup you always did, your hairdo wasn't different either but for some reason, spotting you in the faraway crowd, Bradley felt the same way he did the first time he saw you. He remembered how embarrassingly nervous he was and how his mouth dried out when you stared at him with a smile. From that day on, his condition was only getting worse.

"Just don't drool," Phoenix warned him. The group laughed and Rooster was momentarily brought back to the present day. The sound of cue balls hitting one other resounded in his ears together with the very bar-like sounds of laughter, the click of glass and 80s hits playing on the jukebox.

The game of pool resumed but not for long:

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, there's an enemy on the front line," Maverick announced while vaguely pointing towards your direction. With furrowed eyebrows, Bradley turned around to see what Pete was talking about. There you were: standing awkwardly next to one of the newcomers who was leaning against the bar. In a way, he understood the interest in your beauty. To him, you always looked like a star but Bradley was far from objective - he did, after all, give you those dreamy, puppy eyes of a fool in love while you were wearing a stained hoodie with your university's logo, sleeping and drooling on the pillow. "He's going for the kill, the very classy chest check."

Clenching his jaw, Bradley passed his cue to Bob, who gladly accepted it. The game of pool was temporarily withheld as the Dagger Crew watched the ordeal unfold with great interest. Rooster stormed through the crowd towards you and Maverick set his beer down, getting ready for the approaching 'overboard' or a fistfight.

You've never seen the Hard Deck packed the way it was that night. All the khaki uniforms were blending into one, beige mob, giving a quite humorous impression that it was you who was dressed inappropriately for a night out at a bar. Somehow, it made you happy to see Hard Deck bursting with life - for once, Miramar wasn't just a military town at the end of the world. Squeezing through the beige crowd, you finally reached the counter, only to be greeted by Penny's wide smile.

"Good to see you, (Y/N). Prince Charming's been waiting for you." She vaguely pointed towards the laughing group of aviators playing pool with too many people. Among the sea of military uniforms, Bradley's Hawaiian shirt looked adorably out of place. Although he looked better in blue, that grey shirt he was wearing had to be your favourite - the very same he wore when you met him for the first time.

"Oh, come off it," you laughed. A flustered blush warmed up your face. The rouge on your cheeks slightly camouflaged the flush.

"Hey, I'm not the one calling you wifey."

For a moment, your eyes were glued to Rooster, watching him just having fun with his friends. There wasn't a day where you didn't praise the whim of the cosmos for making Bradley love you. Penny laughed seeing the buttery look on your face. Honestly, she found it quite adorable that years had gone by, the two of you had grown older and matured but the hopeless love of your younger days still stayed around and threatened to never abandon its post. Despite that, she was grateful she didn't have to witness you at the start of your relationship when lovers tend to be more embarrassing than should be humanly possible.

"He could make a ring out of spit and cheese puffs and I'd say yes in a heartbeat," you confessed. Truthfully, the idea of actually marrying him had been haunting you for a few weeks. Those wandering thoughts were always cut short when your imagination began painting you and Bradley as parents, suddenly flustered with the seriousness of the daydreams.

"Now, don't go around giving him stupid ideas." Although it was meant as a scolding, Penny's amused tone made her words sound not serious. "Just tell him. Anyway, what will you have? The usual?"

"You're a woman after my own heart, Penny."

"That I am, sweetheart. One whiskey sour coming right up."

"Thank you!" you called after her.

Penny barely turned around to prepare your drink and serve another round of beers, when someone approached you:

"Whiskey sour, huh? Classy." The man was, too, wearing the khaki uniform. He was leaning against the bar, trying to appear all suave and nonchalant; the position made the muscles in his toned arms even more accentuated and you just knew he did it on purpose.

"I guess you could say that," you answered with a disinterested shrug. It was, after all, only a drink: nothing to gatekeep or make a competition out of. Whatever one drinks, the hangover always tastes the same. "The first drink I ever had."

"Then it must've been quite recently, no?" he asked with a grin. "You sure you're old enough to be here, little lady?"

"That's a strange way to say I look young." An awkward chuckle left your lips. You just wanted to deviate the conversation from further going down the uneasy lane. "Zeus?" you read from the patch on his uniform. "Where'd that come from?"

"The real answer is that I got electrocuted in the academy." After his explanation, the man's gaze audaciously dropped to the deep cleavage of your dress. A cold shiver of discomfort run down your spine. "The cool answer is that I'm just great with the ladies."

To your own, deepening horror, his eyes remained below your chin as he spoke. Did he really think it would work on someone?, you asked yourself. Some more naive part of you believed he was oblivious to his inappropriate behaviour or maybe he was being creepy just for the shock factor.

"Can you... stop staring at my breasts?" you asked awkwardly after a longer while. Uneasiness was dripping from your words and, judging by the livid expression on Rooster's face, not only from them.

Zeus scoffed and his self-assured grin momentarily turned into a strange mixture of lewdness and mischievousness, making your skin crawl.

"Come on, you want me to stare, doll," he said in a low voice. Zeus licked his lips and you felt your whole body tense up. Although he hadn't touched you, his awful way of being made you feel dirty - and not the kind one can scrub off in a hot shower. "If you didn't, you would've covered up."

"What the hell, man," you heard yourself saying. The situation was so odd and awkward, that you had no idea how to act. Flustered at the unwanted attention, words were stuck in your throat. You were telling yourself to go, just leave the man as fast as you could but for some strange reason, you found yourself unable to move like a deer caught in the headlights; only at that moment, the figure of speech could be taken quite literally.

"I know you're just teasing me, sweetheart," Zeus confessed as if he was letting you in on a big secret. "But I prefer a straight game."

Zeus reached for your bare shoulder but someone stopped him. Rooster's fingers were wrapped so tightly around the man's wrist, that their skin turned white. The sight of the familiar Hawaiian shirt allowed you to take a deeper, only slightly calmer, breath. Maybe Penny was partially right: he was Prince Charming, except for the off days when he part-timed as Knight In Shining Armor.

"How about you fuck off from my wife," Bradley gritted through his teeth. His face was red and you were left doubtless that it was the only colour he was currently seeing. There was no doubt that if nature gifted him with just a little less self-control, Zeus would be getting his own jaw dislocated.

"Chill, man," Zeus chuckled awkwardly and tried to force his hand out of Rooster's iron grip. His effort was in vain, a wince of pain slowly making its way unto his face. However, even bad circulation to his hand couldn't keep his audacity out. "Not my fault you let your wife leave the house dressed like that, amigo. And not my fault the girl doesn't wear a ring."

"Well, it's your fault you're a dickhead."

Still clutching Zeus' wrist, Rooster forcefully pulled him away from you. Penny began ringing the bell behind the counter, visibly pleasant at the turn of events. The other clients cleared the way from the bar to the door, already starting to chant 'overboard'.

"Welcome to TOP GUN, pal," Maverick said while he and Rooster grabbed the man under his arms. Together, they began dragging him out of the bar as the regulars cheered them on. "Rule number one: Mrs. Bradshaw is to be respected at all times."

Soon after that life lesson, Zeus was literally thrown out of the Hard Deck and the front door closed in his face. Some of the guests laughed at the interesting turn of events but the general majority went back to their drinks, used to the particular culture of the beach bar.

All gloating and pleased with himself, Bradley made his way back to you, his hands sneaking around your waist without much thought.

"My wife?" you repeated with amusement. A bright smile quickly appeared on his face - he was growing more fond of that thought with each passing second, each mention of the, hopefully inevitable, possibility. "Don't remember marrying you just yet."

The anger he had been drowning in moments ago, was now nowhere to be seen and Bradley's face returned to its soft expression - a default for whenever you were around.

"Really?" he asked with theatrical confusion. His eyebrows even furrowed for a moment. "Must've been my dream then."

"You dream about me often?" you asked as a soft grin crept unto your face. Bradley was the type of man who would flirt with his girl even after having spent his entire life with her - always showing appreciation of the beyond favourable turn of events. Your fingers were mindlessly trailing the hem of his shirt.

"Anytime I can." Considering the gentle look in his eyes, it might just be true.

The laughter his words elicited from you was cut short as Bradley cradled your face and kissed you slowly. Some of the nearby guests started yelling 'bitter!', clearly believing Rooster and Maverick's slight embellishment of your relationship status.

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lovelettersforthedamned · 4 months

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Request for smut 6 & 9 I got this idea from a movie heheh where you’re texting peter at your family dinner and it’s dirty texts and he’s like 😳 then meet each other in the bathroom and fuck with you sitting on the counter but cover Peter’s mouth because he moans loud naturally

Really Quick

--genre: fluff & smut

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x afab!reader

--word count: 0.9k

--warnings: bathroom quickie, PinV, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, mirror sex(ish), this is so silly and so hot.

--gif credits: @onscreenkisses

Conversation elevated the dining room’s atmosphere, and yet all you could focus on was Peter and the phone in your lap.

petey<3: i need you, bug. so so bad.

You look up at your boyfriend who is sitting directly across from you, a stupid smirk on his face. Your hands have suddenly started to become clammy, as you look back down at your phone to make sure you’re not misreading his text.

You know Peter has been pretty worked up this week. Work has been keeping him at the office late, which meant less time seeing each other. Peter’s a moody man to say the least, especially when it comes to you. If he doesn’t see you for at least an hour every day, grumpy. If you two don’t spend dinner together, grumpy. Some people would call this clingy and annoying, and if you weren’t utterly obsessed with your boyfriend, you would say the same. But he makes it so hard to be mad at him, until now.

Looking back up at his face, your eyes cut into his, you’re shocked. He brings his water glass up to his mouth, taking a long sip as he doesn’t break eye contact. He loves this.

you: don’t give me that look.

petey<3: i have no idea what you’re talking about baby.

You’ve had enough, “I’m gonna head to the bathroom really quick, excuse me.” Standing and walking away from the table, you shoot a quick glance at Peter, an unspoken request for him to follow you.

He takes a deep breath as he takes another sip of water, clearing his throat before he speaks, “Oh shit…I’ve got to take this call, I’ll be right back.” Your family barely noticed, too involved in separate conversations to actually pay attention to the two of you.

Peter walked through the home and finally found the bathroom, light seeping through the crack at the bottom of the door. He knocks twice before you open the door and quickly pull him into the cramped space.

You waste no time as you plant your lips onto his, the kiss messy and uncoordinated. Pulling away from his kiss, you're the first to speak, “You think it’s funny to tease me like that in front of everyone?” He doesn’t respond right away, too flustered to even comprehend what you just asked him. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Peter.”

You knew you had to make this quick as you strip only the bottom half of your clothing and pull your panties to the side. Peter lets his pants and boxers fall to the floor as they pool at his feet. Grabbing under your thighs, Peter lifts you onto the bathroom counter, the cool tile giving you goosebumps.

Looking up into his eyes, you grab Peter’s cock and line him up with your entrance before he thrusts into you, your back arching off of the mirror behind you. A breathy sigh escapes your mouth. For as long as you’ve known Peter, you still have never gotten used to his length. The tip of his cock always hits that special spot inside of you leaving you craving for more.

Peter starts to pick up the pace, a sudden urgency plaguing his mind as he comes to realize the situation the two of you are in. The moment he starts to move, you clench around him, the feeling of him inside of you bringing a smile to your face. Peter stares out in front of him and takes in the sight, the mirror perfectly reflecting the way his cock disappears in you, a loud pornographic moan leaving his lips. The sound makes your eyes snap open and clasp a hand around his mouth, “You know I love how you sound, but please Pete, be quiet.”

He nods against your hand as his pace speeds up. You’re getting close. Squeezing his arm next to you, you squeeze your eyes tight as you cum around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…baby, oh my god,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

You two are making a mess, especially when Peter cums inside of you. Your pussy filled with him, some of it spilling out of you and falling onto the counter. Even though he came, Peter is still pumping into you, the pace slowing but still strong.

Letting go of his mouth and arm, you reach around to his back, clawing at the skin. He’s making you feel too good right now, “P–Peter, fuck, wait I’m gonna cum again.”

“C’mon bug, cum on my cock again. Let me feel you around me,” he’s panting in your ear, his breath fanning over the side of your neck.

The second time you came, it was Peter who had to cover your mouth, the pleasure becoming too much. You’re coming down from your high, and the world around you is a blinding white, but all you hear is Peter talking you through it, “That’s it, baby, you did so well. Take a breath, my love.”

Opening your eyes, you see him looking down at you as he pushes some hair that has fallen into your face away and behind your ear. You can’t even speak, your mind is still a little foggy. Peter starts to plant kisses across your cheeks, forehead, and nose before he breaks the silence, “I’ll head out first, don’t follow too close behind.”

You laugh, “You don’t want to announce to my family that you just fucked me in the bathroom?”

“I’m on their good side, I can’t ruin that,” he winks.

--author's note: 200 follower celebration BEGINS!!! WOOOO!!!!!! this is so hot, and i love a good mirror sex quickie. thank you nonnie for this request!!!! ILY!!! please continue to support me and your fav writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging! ok, ily bye<3333

#andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #marvel #peter parker smut #peter parker #fluff #spiderman #LLFTD 200 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

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thebearer · 5 months

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blurb ideaaaaa

mom reader and dad carmy moving the elf’s of the shelf of teddy and willow and seeing their reactions :))

"Stupidest fuckin' thing..." Carmen mutters, sprinkling the flour along the floor in a trail to the counter. "This just makes more of a mess for us to clean up."

"Yeah, but the girls love it." You give him a pointed look, holding Jingles- your elf- in your hand.

The Elf on the Shelf was Pete's fault. One off handed brag about how their children loved the elf, and Teddy was freaking out about why she didn't have an elf. Thus, Jingles was brought into the Berzatto household. You knew Carmen hated the elf, there were days you forgot to move him, didn't do super extravagant things, times you fucked up and felt bad about it. The elf was added stress, but it was also so fun for the girls, so you did it.

Carmen's lips pursed, in a tight line. "Yeah, well they better like this." He huffed, flicking the flour on the pasta. "Go do the feet marks. make it look like he ran through it."

You grinned, poking his side lightly, before bending down, plopping Jingle's feet through the flour to make it look like he'd been running.

Carmen snorted in laughter, grinning at your animated running. "What?" You frowned playfully.

"Nothin'." Carmen shook his head, eyes beaming with joy when they met yours. "'s cute that you do this. You're a good mom."

"You help me." You bumped your hip with his affectionately, laying Jingles in the flour gently. "Pretty good dad, if you ask me."

Carmen blushed, moving the arms and legs of the elf to make it look like snow angels. "Hold on, I gotta take a picture of this." You grinned, pulling out your phone. "Sugar will like this idea. I'll send it to her."

"Hope Anchovy doesn't fuckin' snatch this thing again." Carmen muttered, looking around the kitchen for the cat.

Last year, Anchovy had mistaken the elf for one of his toys, knocking it off the shelf with his paw, which sent Teddy and Willow both over the edge. Sobbing and screaming, you and Carmen though they'd been hurt when you came in the room. Their horrified faces and Anchovy skittering out of the room, Jingles in the middle of the floor. Carmen had grabbed tongs, thankfully, thinking quick on his feet so he didn't 'touch' the elf. He'd nearly sent Jingles back to the North Pole- the garbage- that night.

"I think he's traumatized by it." You giggled. "He won't go near it, I swear. He just looks at it like he looks at Richie."

Carmen grinned, hand sliding down your waist, squeezing your hip as you propped up your little note from Jingles, proud of your handiwork.

The girls woke you up early, excited to tell you all about what Jingles had done. Carmen even feigned shock at the mess, sending them into a fit of giggles, beaming at their elf. He hated to admit it, but it was a great start to the morning, seeing his girls so happy, even if he was cleaning up flour for a good twenty minutes. He looked forward to starting the day, and ending the night with you- and Jingles.

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madwcman · 30 days

Note

hear me out hear me out… peter parker x sunshiney!reader

shes just a girl who will always take the lighter option, always listening to abba, a constant grin on her face

a girl who thrives when the weather climbs above 55 degrees farenheit and breaks out her tanning lotions and beach towels, and lives to wear flowy outfits

if its not too much maybe a little something like that?? i feel like theyd be perfect together 🙏🏻🙏🏻🫶🏻

a/n: i’m so hearing you out!! thanks for requesting!! i hope you enjoy <3

pairing: tasm! peter x sunshine! reader

you’re currently laughing as your gripping peters hand as you both walk on the side walk. peter loves the spring and summer. well, not really but he loves that you love the spring and summer. you thrive during the warmer seasons. in fact peter thinks you actually glow when the weather gets warmer.

you always seem to have a smile on your face, but it’s wider and brighter when you’re outside, hanging out with peter. he would like to think you’d agree with him on this. he would love to think he knows you as much as he knows himself.

“pete we should have a picnic!” you smile brightly, breaking peter out of his trance of you. he turns to you and smiles. “we definitely should, let’s go back to the apartment to grab some things.” you both head back to your shared apartment.

as soon as you walk into the apartment you zoom to your kitchen, peter watches as you quickly grab a chair just for you to climb on it to reach the top of your cabinets, where your picnic basket is located. grabbing the basket you climb down and put it on the counter.

“what should we pack?” you turn to peter, opening the basket. “sandwiches, fruit, chips and maybe some water bottles.” you nod as you move around your kitchen, peter joining you to help prepare the food.

you make sandwiches as peter helps cut up fruit and puts them into plastic containers, you both grab a couple small bags of chips and a couple of water bottles for yourselves. peter quickly puts everything into the basket and holds it for you as you both make it out of the apartment.

“could we go to a park?” you ask peter as you turn to look at him, with such a lovely smile. peter thinks he could faint if you smile at him like that again.

“we can go anywhere you want, sweetheart.” peter kisses your cheek, grabbing your hand in his free one, dragging you out the apartment building. he smiles to himself as he hears your lovely laugh.

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multi-fandom-imagine · 6 months

Text

Day 29: Sex while high

Fandom: Insomniac Spider-Man { though it can be any Peter you like }

Character: Peter Parker

Warnings: tender / slow sex, Peter being needy, drug use { eating of edibles }, light food play, sex on counter top.

His mind was in a fog, it wasn’t a bad feeling of course, it felt good.

Really good, when you suggested to him to take one of your edibles to help him relax he express to fall asleep like you normally do not be turned on.

Every touch of yours only heightened his experience, his nose nuzzled into your neck as he pressed your body against the counter top. “You smell so good, like cookies.” Peter groaned against your neck as he rutted against you.

A small giggles escaped your lips until Peter silenced you with his lips against yours. Your tongue battling his for a moment, you were so distracted you didn’t even notice the man grabbing some chocolate sauce, you were to distracted by him running his fingers across your inner thighs to notice the man pour chocolate a cause down your neck. Breaking the kiss, Peter licked the chocolate away. “But you taste even better.”

A deep moan escaped your lips as your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him in close. A shudder down your spine feeling his erection pressing into your panties. “Peter.”

His soft touch driving you insane, you’ve read how edibles might effect the sense’s but you didn’t think it would feel so good. A giggle escaped your lips as you steered to rub yourself against Peter, you could feel his moan against your neck.

Pulling back, you noticed a glaze in his eyes. You felt him gently caress your cheek. You weren’t quite sure how you got naked or when Peter took his own clothes off but a deep groan escaped your lips as he slowly pushed his length into your cunt. “Peter.”

Keeping his face pressed into your neck, Peter let out his own whimper as he slowly started to thrust in and out of your pussy. Your heels digging into his back as you pushed him deep into your warmth. Your breasts pressed into his chest. He dragged out his thrusts slowly, deliberately. You felt so good wrapped around his cock.

All the anxiety he felt was gone, the stress of Spider-Man vanished. He finally felt like he could be Peter Parker.

Panting against your neck he let one hand holding your hips moved to where you were joked, his thumb teasing the nub. Your cries only fueling his desire, god everything about you was wonderful.

The taste of your kiss, the taste of his kiss, it was something neither of you could describe. It was something that was too good to be put into words, the way your body arched into him. The little tremors of pleasure that hit you or how your walls clenched around his cock in such a away that it nearly sent him over the edge.

Pulling his gaze away from your neck, Peter could feel himself getting closer to the edge. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through out the kitchen. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Resting your head against the cabinets a airy laugh escaped your lips as you bucked your hips against Peter’s thrusts, a shudder running down your spine feeling Peter lick more chocolate sauce of your breasts. “Cum for me Pete…please.”

Hips snapping, Peter continues his thrusts until the coil snapped. His breath coming out in ragged pants as he emptied himself within you. A silent cry tore from your lips as clutched the countertop tightly.

“Pete.” Your chest was heaving, a small giggles escaped your lips as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Nuzzling his nose into your neck, Peter placed a kiss to the skin though he let out his own chuckle. His eyes still slightly glaze over. “You’re so beautiful.” He muttered still clinging to him. “I’m so tired, but I feel so good.”

A happy smile formed on his face, as he did his best to not fall sleep in your embrace. “Well let’s go to bed him.”

Nodding his head, Peter pulled himself out of your warmth then lifted you in his arms. “I rather like that idea.”

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astxroiid · 1 month

Text

manhattan longing // tasm!peter parker

❥ tender hands, late nights, secrets, falling from great heights.

wc: 1.1k

navigation ✩ new york private life (I) ✩ empire state of mind (II)

Peter Parker never thought a wall looked so good to punch. Sitting backwards on your toilet while you shakily stitch up a gash on his back does that to a man.

The adrenaline from the fall wore off and Peter realized he probably didn't just land on the concrete of the sidewalk.

Plus, the glass you ungraciously pulled from his wound answered any doubt.

Speaking of ungracious, the needle in his back was definitely not forming and sort of straight lines.

Peter clutches the toilet lid like a vice. Knuckles turning white and head feeling light from how long he's been holding his breath.

"Okay, this should be the last one," the tone in your voice makes him feel awful for the pain he's feeling. He can here the sadness in your voice, how bad you feel for hurting him.

You push through his skin, pulling the stitch tight and cutting the string. Peter intakes a breath, attempting to dig his nails into the porcelain he's wrapped himself around.

You set the needle on the counter, both peter and you letting out a long awaited breath. His shoulders slump. You slowly reach up, running a thumb over healed scars, all white and jagged.

"Do you fall on glass often?" Your tone is soft and close to a whisper.

Peter turns his head to the side, looking at you over his shoulder. "No, I...." he pauses, attempting to think of a good excuse. Though, you don't know that. "I used to, uhm, box. Yeah. It was intense."

"Oh," you frown slightly, tilting ur head.

You back up, allowing Peter to stand. He turns to face you, revealing a forgotten scar on his chest.

It's long. It spans from his collar bone diagonally to the bottom of his rib cage and it's almost an inch wide.

"Peter," you whisper. "There's no way you got that boxing."

Peter quickly grabs his shirt off the counter, pulling it over his head. "That one's not, I don't really wanna talk about it."

Shame. Shame and embarrassment crash over you like a cold wave. Why the fuck did i mention it?!

You look down at your hands, digging your nails into the sides of each other. "Sorry, I didn't mean to over step."

"No, nonono, don't be sorry. It's okay," Peter smiles at you and, in one spontaneous moment, he's brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

His heart is pounding in his chest. Fear of pushing a boundary crawling up his body.

Your cheeks are warm and before you know it, your hand is holding his against your face, thumb rubbing his knuckles.

"You're so sweet, Peter Parker."

Fucking kiss her!

You let your fingers trail along his arm, trying to give him a hint he can pick up on.

Fucking kiss me!

It's the perfect time too. God her smile. And her hands, they're so soft, and gentle. Loving in a way he never knew he needed.

"Thank you for fixin' me up," Peter gives a lopsided smile, pulling his hand back to his side.

A cold absence takes hold of where his hand once was.

"Of course," you give a flat smile. "You saved my life. It's the least I can do."

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

You offer Peter to stay the night, again saying it's the least you can do in repayment of his heroic act.

You both end up on the couch, curled up watching tv. Again, seeing a couple embrace and feeling the same longing from the other day.

You move to lay your head on Peter's shoulder, letting his arm wrap around you, and sighing into him. Comfort overtakes your body as you sink further into him, slowly running your hand up and down his forearm.

His heart is pounding in his chest. Nerves shaking his hands and his thoughts. "y/n?"

This is it. I'm finally gonna kiss her.

"Yes?"

And with the sweet, sleepy tone of your voice he feels all his confidence start to fizzle. His brain short-circuits trying to come up with a cover up.

"D'you wanna go to bed?"

"Yeah," you yawn, pushing further into him.

Pete leads you from the living room to your bedroom, making sure to turn all the lights off along the way. He pauses once you reach the bedroom, not sure where to go.

You turn and walk up to him, grinning. You place a hand on his chest, feeling his pulse increase.

Peter has no idea what to do. His heart is in his throat, hands tingling.

You let your hand slide up his torso and to the back of his neck, getting as close as you can to him. Peter gulps, looking from your eyes to your lips then back again.

Time seems to stand still, neither of you breathing nor looking away from each other. You tangle your fingers into the brown curls and the nape of Pete's neck, twirling them.

Finally, you pull Peter down to you fully. You kiss him the intensity of the sun. He immediately reciprocates. Your bodies instantly meld into one. Finding their way to the bed and laying you down on your back.

Peter Parker is hovering above you, smiling like an idiot. The same Peter Parker that you loved way back in ninth grade. You were both fourteen, both idiots. The Peter above you now is the same one that fell off the jungle gym in gym class in second grade and blamed you for distracting him.

All the memories swell in your mind, bubbling into one thought you can't help from leaving your lips.

"I have loved you for a long time, Peter Parker."

Peter's eyes go wide, head tilting towards you. "You, what?"

"Have loved you for a long time. since ninth grade to be exact," you state seriously.

You've said it twice and yet, he still can't process it. You notice and try to help him out. You push him over on his side, moving yourself the same way.

"When we were both fourteen, we went on a school field trip to the Empire State Building. We all got to go to the top, but i was afraid of heights. So, you held my hand and told me-"

"If you fall, I'll fall with you," both of you repeat together. And in a crazy twist of fate, you both did fall together.

"I've loved you ever since then."

Peter grabs you by the back of your head, pulling you in for another kiss. Souls connecting into one like two water drops.

He can't believe it. You. You've loved him from the same moment he loved you, and after all this time, you made it back to each other. Falling harder than ever.

remember: likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs are the desire. Remember they do more for authors and tumblrs than a like ever could.

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the-kr8tor · 2 months

Note

Reporting for duty Captain!

A tasm Peter Parker request for a shy reader who likes Peter but backs out when she wants to talk to him or- OR, (more like and) a reader with w rizz who's known Peter since forever and ever. Who has the same interest in photography as he does?? Works in a photo store??

Cook chef!

*gasp* a peter parker request?! Got you, my love 🫡 happy to oblige.

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x fem! Reader/ TASM! Spider-Man x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, Love struck Peter, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Peter doesn't need to ask around campus for you, he already knows where you are, a perk of knowing you since grade school. He evens his breathing when he finally reaches the worn out doors.

The bells jingle as he enters the old store, yellowed wallpaper greeting him and drab shelves lined with rolls of films, the vintage cameras make up for the boringness of the gray shelves. Ancient posters of movies lined the walls, a time capsule of the early eighties. It's silent inside, no other customer than him.

His sneakers squeak on the linoleum as he walks towards the cashier, expecting to see your smile, your hands occupied with whatever book you're currently (hating) reading. He finds it empty.

Peter's spidey senses don't tingle so he can relax knowing that you're in the back of the store. He jumps over the counter effortlessly thanks to his abilities. Knocking on the door, he hears the muffled sound of your speaker.

“Y/N?”

“In here, Pete—! Wait!!” With a creak, Peter opens the door without skipping a beat. The light from the store filters through the dark room, white covering and filtering out all the red. “No! Close it quick!”

“Oh shit!” He shuts it quickly behind him, too fast and harder than he thought, the wood almost cracks at the sheer force. Wincing, you both mirror each other's expression.

“Pete…” you sigh, closing the distance to check the door, you can't afford to lose a chunk of your paycheck for repairs. But you don't blame him, it's hard to stay mad at Peter especially when he's looking so apologetic at you, almost like a kicked puppy. “You got too excited to see me huh?”

He shuts his eyes with a smile, head falling down, chin atop his chest. He looks exasperated but he did it to hide the blush on his cheeks, hoping that if you manage to glimpse it you'd think it's from the red light.

This won't do, you thought. You missed him too much today just for him to hide his face from you. To remedy the feeling, you grasp his cheek, thumb gently placed right under his eye.

“There you are webhead,” your voice is saccharine, the ruby light bouncing off your face, illuminating your features perfectly. Peter thought he'd melt right on the spot. “Missed me?” In truth, you're the one who misses him most.

He wants to say yes without a second thought but knowing you, you're already aware of his answer. Even though you refuse to acknowledge it. Under all the teasing exterior there's shyness underneath it all, with just one flirty comment thrown your way you'd probably collapse.

Peter finally meets your smiling eyes and for a moment you're the only thing that matters.

With classes and spiderman responsibilities, hanging out with you has been scarce, he needed a fix right away, that's why he came sprinting towards the store immediately after a three hour class and after swinging across town to your favorite deli with his wind swept hair and shirt that definitely needs ironing.

“Not really.” A lie, an awful lie on his part.

“Aww,” you dramatically clutch at your chest, hand leaving his skin to his dismay. “Hear that? You just broke my heart, Parker.”

“D’you even have one?”

“Hey!” You playfully punch his shoulder. “You're the one who ruined my pictures.”

His eyes flick towards the clothesline filled with pictures that just screams ‘you.’ “I can see from here that they're not ruined.”

You click your tongue, hands on your hips, you walk back towards the table. “What are you doing here then, webhead?” Lowering the volume of your speaker, you decide to shut it off when his voice is a much better alternative.

“I feel like I should be offended by that.” Peter stands beside you, hip to hip, arm brushing along yours.

Placing his hand on the small of your back casually, he loops his thumb around your belt loop, pressing softly on your skin. He's done this a hundred times during your friendship but it never fails to wake up the butterflies in your stomach.

“I've called you that numerous times.” Holding the tongs, you carefully place the developed photo in the chemical mixture in the basin, eyes watching the picture pop up slowly.

“Stop being mean, I've come bearing gifts from the deli you like.” His voice is quiet, soft just for you.

“The one that's on the upper west side? Peter, that's really far away.”

“I don't mind, that's what web swinging is for right?”

You scrunch up your nose, Peter has the best seat in the house while he admires your expression.

“And here I thought it was for fighting crime.” You chuckle, pushing the paper further down in the basin. His deep chuckle stops abruptly at the sight in front of him.

Peter's own smiling face greets him and your charisma cracks.

“Oh” you manage to let out with your dry mouth.

You can hear him shudder a breath next to you. The picture is framed perfectly, his face centered in the middle amongst the crowd, zoomed in more like. You clearly avoided having other people in the frame, your main subject was him and him alone.

“...Good picture.” He slaps himself mentally.

“Yep, one of my best, I think.” You say quietly, too quietly. Clearing your throat, you avoid his eyes, “why don't you ready the food? Outside, please?”

Peter shakes himself awake. His skin feels like lava, there's a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Hands clammy, he nods wordlessly. He awkwardly pats your back before leaving your side.

Walking towards the exit, your back turned towards him, shoulders slouched and tensed. He turns towards you before exiting, “looks like you missed me more, sweetheart.” He's called you that millions of times, all filled with more affection than the last but this one, oh this one he added with so much love that it could stop your heart.

And you think it has.

Peter hears you squeak, a sound he hasn't heard you make since high school when he asked you to dance during the winter formal.

You whirl around, catching sight of his Parker smile, charm oozing out of him that's already gone before you could admire him in the crimson light.

He leaves, shutting the door quickly. Laying his sweaty forehead on the door, he tightly closes his eyes again, feeling like a lightning just struck him and adrenaline coursing through his veins, needing to swing off the extra energy.

Blowing hot air, he takes his clammy hands off the doorknob to take out the food he bought, grinning through it like a mad man.

Meanwhile, you clutch the table with a grip, heart threatening to jump out of your chest, heat in your cheeks as the photo of Peter smiles at you.

Laughing to yourself, you take out his picture to clip it on the clothesline next to the other pictures. You have no idea what to say to him once you leave the room, or do you just stay in the dark room forever? Either way, you're absolutely fucked.

#request done #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x fem!reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm imagine #tasm fanfic #tasm x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #spiderman x reader #spiderman x fem! reader #cw food mention #fanfic #the kr8tor's creations

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mccoyquialisms · 10 days

Text

More bits from the 1st night of the London D20 live show that brought me joy:

The little “ooooohhhhHHHH” bit everyone in the atrium did as they were rolling the bingo cages for their characters

How NUTS everyone went when Lou got Fabian and everyone started chanting “hoot growl”

A second, just as loud cheer when Siobhan got Adaine and her and Lou ran around the stage together

Siobhan, unprompted: “GIVE ADAINE A GUN!”

Emily has apparently named a stray cat after Plug <3

Sydney straight up eating the ground (it’s ice cream, she’s fine. Sort of.)

“It’s a smell so counter to everything human life needs, in a way that almost kills you, but also, only in a way someone from New York can understand, makes you proud.”

The party refusing to call the candy wyverns anything other than “bugs”

Zac interrupting the ongoing banter to announce Skip is already boarded and sucking on the saddle of the wyvern

“I throw a flash grenade.” “I turn into a giant pigeon.” “I cast unseen servant to untie him.” “I shoot a guard.” “Okay, so everyone decides to do something SUPER SUBTLE.”

I mentioned it before but it’s SO good: “the DC is 500. Only a Nat 20 will do it.” Beardsley: [rolls a Nat 20 first try] [pandemonium in the arena]

“Have you seen Succession?”

The gabagool 🤌

“Adaine, we have saved the world multiple times. These are the scariest people we have ever met.”

Lou losing it at Sydney’s grenade having 1 point of poison damage in addition to all the bludgeoning damage

Skip gives Fabian a laser gun. He does not know what it is until he shoots Calroy with it

“Adaine, this gun thing you’re on? I get it.”

Cocaine Bear

“I YEETED YOU!”

Pete and Skip instant besties. Pete and Fabian instant enemies.

“You named him Anus and now I just have to do it the rest of the show!”

“I absolutely hate to add insult to injury…” “THEN DON’T!”

Adaine passing her wisdom save by 1 point to prevent Kugrash’s polymorph spell from turning her into a rat

The absolute ROAR that went up when Skip transformed into Lapin

“Anus?” “Not today.” “Not today WHAT?”

“I thought I was just on another planet starting a revolution I don’t intend to stick around for.” “America!”

Ally confidentially declaring Lapin and Aguefort have swinger vibes

“Do you want to just take him?” “Do you mean in the biblical sense?” “Another exciting use….”

[croaky voice] butterfly in the skyyyy

Pete opening 6 different flavors of seltzer while the rest of the party does kublacaine

Elaine Lee in the house!!!

Kugrash the greatest chaperone who ever lived

Lapin and Aguefort…and they were roommates…..Lapin’s “how do I look?” before they go into the egg fortress lmao

Syd’s perfume missile dealing 68 points of damage to Fabian and instantly knocking him unconscious. “Are you rolling D20s for damage???”

“I’m going to use my tides of chaos to reroll….worse.”

Tina the butterfly familiar that everyone totally remembers

“Well shit, any house where we kill the people in it becomes our house.”

Pete dissing Fabian so hard he feels the toxic masculinity coming back

Lapin requesting an exam extension for Adaine and Fabian from Arthur via dating app

The collective psychic damage everyone took from the “yar har har” scene

“Pete just starts dancing with a scarf in a way no one else has seen before.” “That’s my fucking thing!!!”

Sydney just enabling every pvp encounter alsdkghsdg. Giving Fabian unlimited capacity to his gun as he’s shooting Pete, with Fabian hitting twice and criting once.

“I can pleasure you or throw grenades, you gotta pick one.” “The first one, obviously!” “Okay!”

Lapin, Adaine and Kugrash chain smoking in the corner suffering through the pain of existence while the rest of party goes nuts around them

Murph incorporating the words “come/coming” as much as possible into Kugrash’s farewell speech while Brennan mimes Gilear’s enormous dick behind him. Not even Fabian’s battle sheet is enough to conceal that hog

“That’s right, I’m the king. And then I jump into the dumpster.”

GILEAR…MY…..OLD FRIEND………Aguefort and Gilear fwb real

“Not another person with their penis frozen to the walk in!”

#dimension 20 live #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 live #dropout #my musings #time quangle

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simpforrooster · 2 months

Text

i love when you call me pete.

pete ‘maverick’ mitchell x f!reader

t/w: mentions of an age gap, some smooching. drunk!maverick

summary: maverick almost drunkenly tells reader how he feels about her

a/n: lowercase intended! wrote this on my phone and have autocaps off xD two fics in one day!!!

maverick laughs as jake, one hand over his own eyes, takes aim at the dart board.

jake hits a bullseye. mav pulls out his wallet, and reluctantly hands jake a folded bill. your eyes roll at the captain’s stupidity. jake never misses a bullseye.

the guys surely hustled the poor man. mav’s hand falls on jake’s shoulder as he finishes off his beer.

“how long are you gonna stare at him?” phoenix asks with a raised brow.

“i am not staring,” you counter, knowing full well that you are indeed staring.

not that you could help it. the man may be twice your age, but he’s hot. even phoenix, happily engaged to bob, gets her an eye full of the elder captain.

you wipe down the bar in front of phoenix and hand her another lemon drop. tucking the rag in your back belt loop, you turn to hand another regular their drink.

ever since penny hired you, you’ve managed to take care of the bar almost as good as she does. she lets you take on the slower days of the week alone, and the two of you manage the weekend crowds together.

once everyone has been taken care of, you turn your attention back to your friend. you catch her admiring her ring. she looks up at you with a grin.

“sorry,” she shrugs. you shake your head.

“no indeed. i’d be gawking at that rock all day if it was mine.”

“you know you said that entire sentence looking at him and not me, right.”

you startle. she’s right. you’d basically been undressing maverick with your eyes. imagining your left hand heavy with a ring.

“you’re impossible,” she laughs.

your heart picks up its pace as maverick saunters, or better yet, sways up to the bar.

“four more, please. on my tab, babe.” maverick holds up five fingers, a giant grin on his face.

babe?

you lean over the bar and lay his thumb back against his palm. “that’s four.”

maverick looks down at you and then back to his hand. a chuckle falls languidly from his lips. “you’re right.”

phoenix raises a brow at you, out of sight from mav, who is looking at you like you’re his center of gravity.

“have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?” maverick says, still holding up those four fingers. the comment turns your insides into jelly.

“are you drunk, pete?” you ask him. there’s no way he’d be saying any of this if he were sober.

his hand falls to the bar top and his eyes fall closed. he stands there a moment, gathering himself, you assume.

his eyes open, those blue irises almost knocking you off your feet with how intense they look at you.

“i may be drunk, but that doesn’t mean i’m lying about you being gorgeous.”

phoenix grins at you over his shoulder, maverick completely oblivious to her.

no, he’s definitely only noticing you. every moved you’ve made, he’s tracked it. well, as well as he can given that he’s shitfaced.

maverick shrugs a shoulder. “maybe sober me is just nervous to tell you that.”

“pete,” you breathe. “you’re a naval aviator. there’s no way i make you nervous.”

“god, i love how you say my name,” he admits. before he can say anything else, jake and rooster appear at his side.

“come on, pops, we’ll get you home.” the men each take an arm, seeing as maverick can hardly remain upright.

he tries to shake them off. “i can’t go until i ask y/n out.”

your hand comes up to your mouth, your heart picking up pace again.

“let’s try tomorrow, mav,” rooster murmurs to his godfather. maverick vehemently shakes his head.

“no. i have to tell her now. i have to tell her i—,”

“oh no you don’t,” jake says, forcing maverick away from the bar. “you will not finish that sentence until you’re sober. she doesn’t deserve a drunk admission.”

rooster shoots you an apologetic look, handing you his card to close out the three of their tabs. you move on autopilot. punching in the men’s names, clicking on them, swiping the card, repeat. you hesitate on pete’s account. god, he did have a lot to drink.

that’s all that was. drunken words. he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

once the men are out the bar and pete is loaded in the back of the bronco, you turn to phoenix.

“what the fuck?” she screeches.

“i told them not to let him approach her with as far gone as he was,” bob comments, saddling up in the barstool next to his fiancé.

“what are you talking about, bob?” you ask.

bob shares a look with phoenix.

“you’re nuts if you’ve never seen the way he looks at you.”

“please don’t get my hopes up, bob,” you tell the bar, already fearful of those hopes plummeting once maverick comes to his senses and takes everything that just happened back.

you close out the remaining people at the bar. phoenix and bob hang around with you, walking you to your car once you’ve got the hard deck locked up.

the dagger squad take turns staying with you when you have a closing shift. they’re more protective of you than a set of new parents.

you hug your friends goodbye and drive to your apartment.

the next morning, your doorbell wakes you up with a start.

literally rolling out of the bed, you hit the floor tangled in your sheets. the doorbell chimes again. searching for a pair of pants, dread fills you as the doorbell rings once again.

what could be so urgent at..7 am?!

your mind runs through every possibility.

the doorbells chimes for a forth time just as you throw the door open, shrieking, “what?!”

pete mitchell stands on your stoop. he looks like hell. the two of you stare at one another, while pete grips the flowers he’s holding with a death grip.

you open the door wider, silently inviting him in. he follows you to the kitchen and settles at your island. the silence in the room thickens as you set to work making coffee. you feel his eyes on you the entire time.

“listen, y/n,” maverick starts, but you cut him off, sharply holding up a finger. you fish two mugs from your cabinet. you fill his mug to the brim, spooning two teaspoons of sugar in it. you fix yourself a little coffee with your creamer. setting the coffee in front of him, you step back and lean against the counter across him.

waving your hand, you tell him to proceed.

“i’m so sorry about last night,” he says, finally laying the flowers down. he runs his hands down the front of his jeans, wiping away the sweat.

“if you’re about to take it all back, i really don’t want to hear it, mav,” you tell him.

“mav..” he repeats to himself, looking at your counter top. “last night you called me pete.” he brings his eyes to yours.

you stare at him. okay, he remembers that.

“i don’t want to take any of it back, y/n.”

your breath catches at the back of your throat.

“i want to apologize,” he continues. “you didn’t deserve a drunken admission. i was being cowardly. because believe it or not, you’re ten times scarier than an f-18.”

when you say nothing, he keeps on.

“i know how to handle an f-18. i know what makes it work, how to get it back on track. i know that plan inside and out.” he takes a breath. “i don’t know how to navigate this. you.”

“me?”

“you. god, y/n. you have the ability to wreck me to my core. and i have so terrified to admit my feelings to you.”

“come on, pete, you can’t mean that,” you tell him, folding in on yourself.

“of course i do. the guys told me talking to you drunk was a bad idea. i thought i could handle it, but you just looked so gorgeous, i couldn’t help it.”

you are fully aware of how you looked last night during that fiasco. and gorgeous surely wasn’t it. not with your tank top and cut offs. and you know your hair had to be a mess. it always was at the end of a shift.

maverick rises from his stool. coming around the kitchen island, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking terrified as he walks over to you.

“i am sorry i tried to do this shitfaced,” he whispers, a breathe away from you. “tell me i didn’t ruin anything.”

he’s never stood this close to you, and it’s doing odd things to your heart.

“you didn’t ruin anything, pete,” you tell him. his eyes drop down to your mouth, silently asking permission. you nod, not trusting your voice to not betray how much you want this.

maverick pins you to the counter, his hands on either side of you, holding his weight off you. you speed him up by balling your hand in his shirt and pulling him down to you.

maverick grins as his mouth meets yours, falling back into his normal self. you can fill the confidence flowing through him as his hands move from the counter to your body.

his expert hands fall exactly where you need them. he deepens the kiss, his tongue running along your bottom lip. opening up to him, he pulls you tight against his body.

“fuck,” he breathes against your lips.

“tell me about it,” you murmur.

he plants tantalizing kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“pete,” you moan. he tightens his hold in response.

“i love it when you call me pete,” he says, returning his kisses to your mouth.

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick fic #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell x y/n #pete mitchell imagine #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x y/n #maverick x you #maverick fanfic #maverick imagine #maverick x reader

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 8 months

Text

the downpour

lilac, chapter seven

a/n: everybody, calm down! deep breath! because it's happening!!!

summary: “man, I can’t for the life of me remember the last time it thundered, nevertheless this much,” not glancing back at the silent figure leaning against the kitchen counter, you asked him, “can you?”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, renovating an inn, real name reveal, kissing, only one bed, rain and thunder

word count: 2400

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Gently clamping down on the break, your bike slowly rolled to a stop.

“Pete!” you hopped off before the bicycle had come to a complete standstill, “hi!”

Craning his head out from under the hood of his truck, a faint smile appeared upon the burly man’s lips as he greeted, “hey,” seemingly taken aback by your arrival, riding through the forest just as the sun had nearly set completely.

Glancing to the twisted innards of his vehicle, you exhaled, “oh no, what’s wrong with your car?”

Seizing a dirtied rag that hung over the top, Pete then wiped his grease-covered hands with it, “I haven’t gotten to the bottom of it quite yet,” blinking down at his broad palms as he cleaned the viscous substance off them.

“Is there like some car illness going around here or something?” you joked as your heel popped out the stand on your bicycle, balancing it before you stepped closer to the lumberjack.

“What, is yours still at the shop? It’s been months!”

“It’s something about a specific part not being in production anymore so they had a really hard time finding it,” you grumbled, “and then they finally did but it’s coming all the way from Germany and it’s just a whole thing…”

Sliding your fingers into your pockets, exhaling slowly as you let the infuriating car trouble simmer back down, you heard Pete ask, “so, did you just come over here, late at night, to talk about cars?”

“Well, it is my absolute favourite subject ever,” you joked, adding sarcastically, “I know just so much about cars…” blinking up into his dark eyes, you then let the antic fade away, “no, I just finally measured those rooms and it turns out they are both big enough for double beds.”

“Oh, great,” his eyebrows rose softly in recognition.

“I’m really sorry it took this long,” you averted your gaze, looking to the grass below as your fingers found an old and crumbled shopping list at the very bottom of your jacket’s pocket, “it was so kind of you to offer to make some new furniture for the place, I should have given you all the information needed so much earlier.”

“It's fine, it’s just a few bedframes, some shelves and such, nothing fancy,” he calmed your edgy nervous system, “I’ve gotten plenty done already without knowing all the information, but now that I do, I can finish, so thank you,” dipping his head a little lover to catch your gaze, he then offered graciously, “you wanna take a look? It’s not done yet, but it might give you an idea.”

“Yeah, sure,” the smile that blossomed on your lips was impossible to hide, following his long stride as he marched into the open shed-like structure just behind where the car was parked. To the immediate right, tall stacks of firewood laid to cure, a dark tarp draped over one of the piles, but the earthy scent your nose picked up on was heavenly and caused a bit of tenseness, you hadn’t noticed haunted your shoulders, to fade away.

“So, I cut out the side panels, legs and such for the beds since I didn’t know how wide they needed to be,” your vision flickered away from the various tools that hung up on peg boards on one of the walls, and fixated instead on the planks of well-carved wood that Pete presented, lifting one of them a few inches off the work table for you to take a look, “but this is kinda what’s going on so far, still need to sand it a bit more, put a stain on it, of course assemble it, but yeah, I hope this can work.”

“Wow, wait,” you craned down, pushing your wide eyes closer to the unfinished yet beautifully crafted pieces, “you made this?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged softly, “I mean, I can change it if you don’t like it–”

“I was fully expecting you just slap a few two-by-fours together and call it a bed,” you interrupted, momentarily tearing your eyes away from the timber to stress, “happily so might I add, but this is like actual furniture…” your fingers ghosted over the smoothed surface, “you’re really good at this.”

“Well, I do work with wood for a living,” he joked, head cocking to the side.

“Do you sell these kinds of things?”

“No, no,” he glanced down at the way the fingernail on his thumb was absentmindedly digging into the opposing palm, “stuff like this is just a way to keep my hands busy.”

“Well,” you glanced up into his eyes, “if you wanted to then you could easily make a pretty penny…” a gentle smile accompanied your genuine compliment, his own lips swiftly mirroring the same curve as he let out a wispy exhale.

Just then, a crack of thunder echoed from somewhere in the distance. Whipping your head around to glance out the wide-open door, it took mere seconds for the abrupt rain to go from a gentle drizzle to a violent downpour.

“Oh my god,” your feet carried you a few meters, shoulders jumping faintly as another bolt of lightning shot out from the dark clouds above.

Eyes too glued to the skies, you felt Pete’s touch find your shoulder as he uttered, “we should probably head inside.”

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly, “good idea,” before your feet practically sprinted all the way up to the cabin’s humble porch, like a small child in the middle of the night, scared of whatever shadow monsters you thought to be real. Heading in first, Pete was right on your tail as you held the front door open a moment for him, swiftly slamming it shut behind him as giddiness coursed through your veins, “oh my goodness,” you squealed, curling your toes in your wet shoes, “I had no idea it was gonna rain!” casting your vision out the window, you let out an enchanted gasp as you spotted another thunderous bolt appear, “oh, Pete, look! That was such a close one,” your fingers found the windowsill as you muttered in amazement, “man, I can’t for the life of me remember the last time it thundered, nevertheless this much,” not glancing back at the silent figure leaning against the kitchen counter, you asked him, “can you?”

Not truly present, you then heard him utter, “…Frank.”

“Huh?” you finally glanced back at him, noticing how sober his features suddenly were.

“My name,” he breathed, noticeably having trouble looking you in the eye, “it’s not Pete, it’s Frank.”

“What?” you blinked, the thrilling weather abruptly forgotten, “what do you mean your name is Frank?”

As you gently inched closer, perplexity muddling your features, he hesitantly shared, “I did some shit, things that some people high up doesn’t want the public to know about, so I get to be Pete while they get to not be humiliated by their own actions.”

Lips slightly parted, a dazed breath escaped your lungs, “I–…” utterly stunned, your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to comprehend the bomb he’d just dropped, “alright… alright…” a headache nearly plagued your cranium from how tensely your eyebrows were knitted together, “I-I don’t know what say,” you squinted back at the man before you, “no one’s ever–… wow… your name is Frank?” he hesitantly offered you a light nod in confirmation, “Frank… Frank…” you heard yourself hazily repeat, tasting the new, and oddly fitting, name on your tongue.

He didn’t utter a single word as you just stood there, doing your best to digest the staggering information.

It took a long time for you to hear the rumbling rain again, your whole body frozen as you tried to relearn what was up and what was down.

You had no idea how long the deafening silence drew out. Could have been a whole week for all you knew. But when your lips eventually parted once more, the breathless words that then spilt out couldn’t help but come straight from your heart.

“You–… you scare me…” catching his weary gaze, you uttered with glossy eyes, “the way that you make me feel, that scares me so much…” your tainted track record caused your body to feel as if you could faint at any moment, “I didn’t expect–, I certainly didn’t plan for this, any of this, you. I didn’t expect you to–…” the rest of your confession then faded away as the boldness of what soon fluttered out of you took even you by surprise, “can–… can I kiss you?” scarcely drawing breath as you glanced back at him in apprehension, “because I really can’t tell if it’s okay or not, if you–”

Seizing your fretful face in his hands, Frank promptly drew you in and drowned out the paralyzing worries that fluttered your system as his lips pressed against your own.

You heard him draw in a deep breath through his nose, as if it was the very first oxygen he had let his lungs have in a whole lifetime. Your shoulders swiftly relaxed, noticeably dropping beneath where his rough palms gently cupped your flush cheeks, not only handling you, but kissing you as if you were made out of glass.

As you eventually felt him gently draw back, you couldn’t help but dive back in, clutching his shirt and crashing your lips back against his in a kiss so fierce you nearly lost your footing.

When you finally did part ways, you felt Frank’s broad thumb trace your bottom lip, staring at it a moment before his enchanted eye flicked up to meet yours.

Breathless and absolutely spellbound, gazing back at him, you eventually heard yourself utter barely above a whisper, “…the–, the rain…” you felt his heavy breath fan across your blush, “I should probably wait it out…” the undertaking of letting go of the soft cotton of his shirt seemed an impossible task, “might be dangerous riding home in this weather, especially on the tiny paths I’d have to take, they get so muddy, and it gets too easy to just slip and fall and if it happens at some of the areas that are kind of cliffy, then it could quickly turn into something bad…” you rambled as it felt like his gaze pierced directly into your soul, “and also the lightning? I don’t know about you, but I don’t wanna get stuck, that doesn’t sound very nice…”

“Might not be over till morning, though…” he pointed out, “you’re welcome to just sleep here if you want, I mean, nothing like that,” he reeled back a bit, wincing at the unintentional innuendo, “I wasn’t insinuating–,” but the end of his sentence didn’t get a chance to see the light of day as you raised yourself up onto your tip toes and planted a kiss of not only gratitude against his soft lips.

The low groan that then rumbled deep within his throat sent a dizzying flutter down your abdomen, all collecting right between your thighs. As your lips consequently parted to let out a foggy whimper, you felt his nature instinctively seize the opportunity and sneak his tongue in to explore your own, intoxicatingly dancing, savouring your taste, as his hands began to wander, attempting to pull your form as close to him as physically possible.

At first, you thought you’d fallen, but then when you felt the cool counter beneath your bottom, you realized that he’d hoisted you up there, slotting himself in between your parted limbs as you held onto the sides of his face, fingers weaving into his scraggly beard.

Panting, your chin abruptly tilted to the side, denying yourself of anymore before you got too far to be able to stop yourself. Eyes only half open, you felt his bulbous nose stay pressed against your cheek, lingering in your warmth for as long as he could.

“It’s getting late,” you breathed heavily, steadying yourself with a hand on either side of his broad shoulders, “we should probably go to sleep…”

As your neck began to straighten back out, his answer washed over you, sounding just as hazy as you had, “right,” one of his palms absentmindedly brushed the wild hair out of your face as you parted ways, “yeah…” pupils eclipsing the warmth of his eyes, you watched as he drew in on last breath before enclosing his grasp around your waist, helping you back down onto the floor, “you go on and take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No way,” a breathless chuckle bubbled out of you as you shook your head, “I’ll take the couch, I insist, I can’t put you out like that. I’m shorter than you anyway, so I’ll fit better,” you reached back to grasp the table behind you just in case the room decided to spin out from under you, “and if you give me your bed then I’ll just purposely stay up all night, not even sleep a second. So, if you want me to get some rest, then let me take the couch.”

Gazing back at you, a faint smile then warmed his features, “alright,” the vision not helping in the slightest at settling the butterflies in your stomach.

“Do you maybe have a shirt or something I could borrow? Just so that I don’t sleep in damp clothes…”

“Oh yeah,” the tiny task seemingly helped to take the edge off of Frank’s own fuzzy high, “I’ll, uhm…” he turned his back to you and wandered a few paces before he entered the far room, stopping before the tall wooden wardrobe visible from the doorway. Like his shadow, you slowly followed him, stopping just in the opening as you watched him pull out a black, folded-up item of clothing, “here,” he turned and handed the worn t-shirt to you, his touch lingering just a second, fingertips ghosting against the back for your palm.

“Thank you, Frank,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around it and hugging it close to your chest like a teddy bear.

“No problem,” your eyes briefly flickered to the bed in the corner of the room, juxtaposing crumbled linen sprawled atop the twisted iron frame made for quite the inviting image, even if you didn’t account for the actual dream that slumbered there every night, “the, uh, the bathroom is right through there, so you can just–, while I find you some blankets and such.”

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle series #lumberjack au

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secretaccountlol · 1 year

Note

Smut with Peter x Reader where it’s their anniversary ( wedding or dating you choose) and they go raw for the first time and Peter is a absolute mess plus his dick is sensitive

Hiii~! Hm so. Hopefully this is to your expectations-!

So I interpreted, this as a bit of a subby/switch Peter I hope that’s alright.

this also can be read any spidey too :3

Also you didn’t use any she pronouns so I went ahead and made the reader AFAB! :3

18+ no minors <3

Cw:overstimulation, unprotected sex, teasing,switch!reader, switch! Peter.

“Peter…”

“Yeeesss?”

“Why am I blindfolded?”

“Can I not surprise my fiancé?”

Peter says ‘fiancé’ with a French accent, putting extra flavor in the ‘e’.

“You can but why do I have to be blindfolded!”

“Mm cus it makes it more exciting?”

You groan, “get on with it, Pete!”

“Ugh! Ewww ungrateful!” Peter put on a false voice, you held your laugh trying to keep the appearance of annoyance.

“I can see trying not to smile, baby. Can’t fool me” even though you can’t see him grinning, you could feel it.

“Okay, you caught me but please no more waiting I’m excited!”

“Alright.”

You felt a woosh as your eyes adjusted to the light, a gasp emits from your mouth as you feel Peter hug you from behind.

“Like it?”

“Awh, Pete you shouldn’t have.”

The living room was decked out with fairy lights, your couch was made into a fort moved from its original place to make way for big comfy blankets and pillows replaced it, with your favorite snacks and drinks in the middle and your head turned to the tv.

“Peter…” you feel a press of a kiss on your cheek as your eyes glitter with tears, an album of your best moments together plastered on the screen, some of the pictures were just of you when you weren’t looking at Peter. He liked that, taking pictures of you off guard, it was “artistic” he said.

“Do you like it?” You nod squeaking out a “yes”, it was clear you liked it but Peter always needed that extra reassurance.

You run over to the fort, you can’t contain your joy.

“Wait wait, before we sit down.” Peter puts his hands out before shooting his webs to grab a bag on the counter.

“Matching PJs.” Peter shrugs and you squeal with delight.

“Peter.”

“Yes, love?”

Your eyes train on Peter, biting your lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing nothing- just..I-I uhm have a ‘surprise’ b-but I feel like it’s lame compared to” you pause motioning all around the room, “This!”

“You know I don’t care about how grand it is.” Peter nuzzles his nose with yours making you giggle.

“W-well uhm. I-hh..”

Peter leans into you, eyebrows raised awaiting your answers.

“I-..started taking birth control. S-so we could ..”

“Do it without a condom?” Peter finished your sentence, his eyes glossed over, you nod you couldn’t get the words out so you’re glad he said it for you.

“I-i wanted it to be a surprise for our anniversary” you fiddle with your PJs you lift to see his eyes, his jaw was clenched as you scanned his face your eyes naturally travel down to his bulge.

The fabric strained against it you wet your lips instinctively stealing a glance at Peter’s lust-blown eyes, “I’m not gonna lie..I-i really I want to fuck you right now.”

“I mean” you pause, biting your lip, “I-I told you for a reason.”

You watch that as a glint in Peter started to form, the same glint you always see when you know he’s about to tease you.

“Tell me what you need, pretty one?” Peter’s hand's inch up your thighs, his head dipped down low to try to meet your eyes.

“Pete..”

“Come on, you can do it.” Pete’s lips graze your cheeks, his mouth near your ear now.

“We won’t get anywhere with silence, y’know? Communication is key right?”

“R-right.”

Peter holds your chin hostage forcing you to stare into his eyes, “What do you wanna do, hm?”

Your eyes wander a bit before you snap back to him via his hands gripping your chin hard, it makes you whimper.

“I guess you don’t wanna-“

“No!”

You close your eyes, breathing through your nose because opening them again, “n-no I.. I want t..to have sex with you…!” Your lips wobble after you spoke, he knew you were shy and he loved to exploit it.

“Now was that so bad?” Peter smirked as you broke out of your shy trance, you push him away

“Oh fuck you! You know I get flustered when you do that stuff!”

Peter’s hands play with the buttons on your shirt, undoing them one by one, “can’t help myself, you look so cute when your all embarrassed like that” Peter discards your pajamas top leaving your bare chest on display, you feel the urge to be modest but you know how Parker would react. His hands hooked onto your PJS bottoms, you lifted to help him slide them off you.

“God I’ll never get tired of looking at you, y’know that?” Pete traces your nipples with his tongue before undoing his shirt and pants.

You hum in agreement, “What’s with the rush, Petey?” you tease, well try to at least you leaned into his face, planting kisses gently which were returned in good favor. “Mm, when’d you learn how to tease?” Pete’s hands were soft as they cupped your face.

“You”

“Me?” he giggled as you nodded, “Nice to know I rub off on you.” His fingers creep up the sides of your body, eventually reaching your boobs giving them a squeeze then rubbing them in soft soothing circles.

“Pun intended”

“You’re so corny! we’re about to raw dog for the first time and you're making puns?” You climb into his lap, pouting to keep yourself from laughing at his antics.

“Mm, cus I know it makes you happy and cus I know you're nervous..” Petey smiles as your eyebrows arch.

“Mm? I’m not nervous bout that..” your head tilts in confusion until it hits you, he’s nervous. “Aw babe..” you shift your weight, pressing your core into his bulge.

Peter’s breath hitched, “I’m not nervous at all, I can’t wait to feel you cum in me.” Your eyelid lowered, your hands picking at his boxers, before diving into them, fishing out his cock.

Your hands glided up and down his cock, Peter's sharp breath made you grin your pace sped up in the effort for more. “Fuck-! W-who are you? W-what have you done to my fiancé?” Peter smirks in false control, only to be interrupted by a kiss from you.

“S-so soft.. I-i love your hands-“ Peter’s hands grasp your wrist, “but I don’t wanna c-cum there.” You pull your hand away, leaning back to study his face as his hands went to return to favor. Slithering into your waistband, “god, you’re so wet..I can’t wait to fuck you” Peter groans, his fingers slipping up and down your slit, probing your hole.

Your hips buck up with soft sighs, “No point in w-waiting, I’m wet e-enough..” you lift letting Peter slip off your underwear, “I wanna see your f-face when you enter me” you felt hot, you’ve never been this straightforward with him before but you could tell he relished it.

Peter nodded, breathless as you lined yourself with him. You grasp his dick, you push the tip against your clit, letting your slick cover it.

“Fuck- god! That.. that feels so good..” Peter’s words were through gritted teeth. “P-please baby put it in..” you feel a fire ignite in you, you want more.

You leaned against his chest, allowing your body to grind against his cock, letting your pussy slip up and down, “bab-baby fuck that feels so good. Please please- l-let me fuck y-you.” His voice was higher than usual, hands on the floor gripping the sheets, his hips trying but failing not to thrust into you.

“I’m sorry I was just getting payback for all the times you’ve edged me” you leave kisses on his lips, as you guide his dick to your hole, letting yourself slide onto it, agonizingly slow moaning as you adjust. Your eyes gazed at Peter, his mouth open but no words or sounds just pure bliss, his eyebrows knitted together, head thrown back.

You raise yourself, slamming back down, skin colliding on skin making a delicious smacking sound.

Peter whimpers, “fuckfuckfuck- you feel like heaven oh my god! So..sososo warm ohh.”, his hands instantly are off the floor and onto your hips. “Please d-don’t stop..! D-don’t stop pleasepleaseplease…!” Peter’s whines filled the air, his voice made your insides clench.

“Aah- fuckfuck- please do that again. Fuck! it feels so good.” His hands use your hips as handlebars, using them to push and pull you up and down his cock. “M-more more more I need more..! Nngh-“

“Oh god- Pete! Mmhn- “ your legs hug him tight, driving him deeper into hitting directly into your g spot, your head is thrown back as it hits over and over again.

Peter whines, “ooh-“ his thrust are sloppy as he fucks himself into you. “N-never been so dee-ahh…!“ Peter's hands are quickly planted on your back, laying you down, returning to hips in seconds.

A crushing grip, that will leave bruising marks to be remembered and kissed upon tomorrow. Peter’s whimpers swell in your mind as your own choked moans spill out your mouth.

Your hands travel down to your clit rubbing furious circles as you sob in pleasure. “P-peter! Mmmh- so fast..!” Your free hand pulls his head down for a kiss, his shaky breaths against your soft lips, you muffle both of your moans with a searing kiss.

Tongues and teeth clashing in a mess of lust and love, little whispers of “I love you” bounce back and forward as eyes gaze at each other through hazy vision and tears.

“Ooh..Pete-“ your eyes close as you buck up, “S-say my name again, please..” soft touches of the cheek compel you to say again and again, Parker’s fingers dig into your skin as his thrust becoming harder and harder making your body shake as your eyes pinched.

You arch as you feel yourself clenching, pressure building up more and more at your core. Peter keeps his tempo as you squirm, “g-gon-“ your hands go haywire as you let out a scream.

Your ears ring as you pant, fingers splayed out on his chest. “Oooh” Peter whines out more obscenities as he fucks you through your orgasm, “Y-y..fuck even more wet..I’m- fuck soosososo cl-“ peter sobs, hiccuping as his moans get louder.

“Fuck! Ilov- Mm! Iloveyousomuch!!” Peter's rough fingers make their way to clit, harsh and fast strokes make you whine, your body moves against your will trying to match his thrusts.

“I-I’m - shitshitshit- imcummin’!” Peter’s eyes roll back as he pumps into you, a warm pressure courses through your body as Peter's cock pulses in you, “Hhn-oh I-I can feel you in me..” you push your body against his cock, Peter throws his head back as obscenities flow out of his mouth.

“Ah-..! Y-you mm- you're practically milking me. Fuck-“ Peter presses down on your stomach you groan in delight. “I-I’m g-gunna cum again, Ah-mmhnn!” You throw back again, convulsing with pleasure.

“M-me too, fuck your- “ Peter grunts as crams more

cum into your hole, “Y-ya take it..take it”

The room was stuffy, both your heads were spinning as you breathed as you stared at each other.

“T-that was..”

“Amazing, spectacular, sensational?”

You half-hazard hit him, “You’re such a goofball!”

“Mmm, you love it though. Dontcha?” Peter winks with his head tilted, his hair stuck up and all different ways.

“Hate to admit it, but you’re right.” You ruffle his hair.

#tasm!peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #mcu!peter x reader #tasm #sub!peter parker #switch!peter Parker #switch!reader

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headkiss · 5 months

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omg for a little christmas request!! how about pete buying reader a cute christmas plushie cos he knows you love them 😭 this is definitely not because I saw this ADORABLE reindeer plushie recently and I wanted it so bad but didn’t get it </3

mal my love!!! tysm for this request i hope u like it <333 | 0.8k words of christmas fluff with our boyfriend peter!!!!

Peter thinks of you often.

He has ever since he’d met you. And now that he can call you his and have it be true, he only thinks of you more. When he sees your favorite restaurant, when he thinks of a joke you’d find funny, all the time.

Not that he’d ever complain. There are far worse things to think about than the person he loves.

Peter stops in the shop by your apartment building on his way home, which he does often. Only now, it’s filled with holiday items, decorated with a wreath on the door. The bell chimes when he walks in, where he’s met with ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham! playing through the speakers.

He walks between the aisles, waving at the cashier when he says hello. Grabbing some snacks, Peter’s about to head up to the counter until he sees a small reindeer plushie sitting on the shelf. And he thinks of you again.

You’ve got a small collection of plushies at home, a little floating shelf dedicated to them in your bedroom. Sure, you already have some, but Peter picks it up anyways ‘cause he knows you’ll like it.

He leaves with a bit more of a pep in his step, excited to surprise you when he gets home.

The walk to the building is quick, though he’d debated swinging just to get there even quicker. In the end, walking is good enough, and he’s tugging his keys from his pocket as he walks up to the door.

Opening it, Peter instantly feels calmer. He always seems to be on edge, his senses waiting for something to tip them off. But when he walks into your apartment, everything goes a little quieter.

He’s never felt so at home as he does with you, in your shared apartment. Coming home to your shoes by the door, the smell of your favorite scented candle, and most importantly, you.

Sometimes cooking, his socks bunched around your ankles. Sometimes on the couch, accidentally asleep with the TV on. But no matter where he finds you, you’re there, and that’s all he could ever ask for.

Today, he finds you reading on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you. He sets his bag down on the kitchen counter, keeping the plushie behind his back, before walking over.

“Hey, honey,” he says, soft and sweet.

You’d been too deep into your reading to notice him getting home, but you peek up when you hear his voice. “Hi, Peter.”

The smile sneaks onto your face as you say it, his presence enough to make you happier. He’s the best boyfriend you could ever have. Gentle and caring, far too kind, and completely yours.

A matching smile is on his face, too.

Peter reaches out one hand, the other still behind his back, and tugs your book from your grasp, making sure to mark the page before setting it down.

“Close your eyes,” he tells you.

And, because he’s Peter, and because you trust him, you do.

“What are you up to?”

“Shhh. I’m giving you a present.”

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“Doesn’t have to be Christmas for me to want to give you a gift, honey.” He sits down next to you, his free hand placed warmly on your leg. “Okay, now hold your hands out.”

Obeying, you place your hands, palm up, in front of you. Your eyes are squinted shut, resisting the urge to sneak a look, but you know he’d catch you if you did.

“If this is a bug or something, Peter, I swear-”

“You think I would give you a bug? With the way you’re scared of those things?” He squeezes your leg. “Come on, honey. I wouldn’t.”

Peter places the plushie in your hands, waiting a second before telling you to open your eyes. He’s grinning at your reaction when you do.

Looking at what you’re holding, you see a cute reindeer plushie, its eyes sparkly, the fur soft. Your heart swells a little at the thought of Peter seeing it and thinking of you.

You gasp, looking over at Peter, who’s got a shy smile on his face, his cheeks a little pink. “Peter! It’s so cute. Thank you.”

“Thought you could add something festive to your collection.”

You set the reindeer aside, opting to cup his jaw and kiss him quick instead. When you pull back, the pink of his cheeks is a little darker.

“You’re so sweet,” you tell him. “I got lucky.”

And you did. You feel that way with every single day you get to have with him, every morning you wake up next to him. It feels like Christmas all of the time, living with Peter Parker.

“A deer for my dear,” he says.

You push his shoulder, “ew, Peter. That was bad.”

You’re still smiling, though.

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