#anyway! i hope this lived up to my tags for you!!

[javiercigsrete]

Bad Idea

dbf!joel x f!reader.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

main masterlist

summary: teasing joel while on a road trip to houston for a concert was a bad idea. especially with your father tagging along. 3.9k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (23/40), smut, unprotected p in v, fingering, dirty talk??, shit load of pet names, banter??, gas stations, no use of y/n, cursing, readers father is oblivious ofc, not beta read we die like losers, uhh idk what else so if i missed anything lmk !!

a/n: omfg this took way longer to write than i'd hoped for but it's here !! it's not the best and it's truthfully my first fic i've completed, written, and posted so if it's horrible that's why. that and i've also never written smut before so this was definitely a learning experience, hopefully as time goes on i'll get better at it but for now it's fuck it we ball, live and learn, anyways enjoy this and also happy birthday to joel miller the loml <3

The tree leaves dance in the wind, a few cars crushing the ones that have fallen and blown into the street leaving only tiny pieces to scatter in the air. It's only the middle of August but the leaves have already started to change colors and fall. at least it's still warm out.

You've watched at least four cars pass since the time Joel was supposed to show up, your dad planned some overnight trip to a concert in Houston. You're all supposed to ride in Joel's truck – he'd offered to be the one to drive there and back – but he still isn't here.

Be nice if it was just you and Joel. It would be like a date, the two of you alone together, spending the day together and having the hotel room all to yourselves for the night.

But that could never happen.

You can hear him from where you're sitting on the porch. your dad. He's been on the phone for the past hour arguing with whoever, he'd gotten loud enough you'd sought reprieve outside, it's proven useless.

You're thankful when you spot the familiar black truck pull up along the sidewalk, you stand from the steps and make your way over to him as he steps out of the truck. “You're late,” you say.

Joel grabs up your bag, tossing it into the bed of the truck. You're not entirely sure how safe that is but you don't bring it up yet.

“Sorry baby, lost track of time and got stuck in traffic.” When he turns to you he leaves one hand on the bed and the other on his hip, you watch the way his hands flex, like he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you.

But your dad could walk out the door any second, so he doesn't.

You nod, giving a slight raise of your eyebrows. “Traffic,” is all you say.

“What?” He cocks his head, raising his own eyebrows questioningly.

“Nothing,” you mutter when you hear the screen door open and your dad's voice travels through the air.

“We ready?” he tosses his own bag in the bed, eyeing you two curiously. You both nod in confirmation. “Alright then, let's go.” He rounds the truck, hopping in the passenger's side.

You look at Joel who gives you an apologetic look as he opens the door behind the driver.

This is going to be a long trip.

Joel was right about the traffic, you spend thirty minutes waiting for it to move along the highway. You'd understood the plan of it being an overnight trip but at this rate it might as well be a two day trip.

“God damn, the hell’s takin’ so long?” You hear your dad say, finally breaking the silence that filled the car. “might have to stay longer at this rate, if we even make it,” he mutters.

“‘S why we left so early,” Joel says, there's a hint of agitation laced in his voice, no doubt from the traffic.

You feel the need to make it worse, poke the bear if you will.

“You were late,” you mumble, but you can tell he heard you from the glare you receive through the mirror.

The concert doesn't start till seven, you'd left early – far too early if you're being honest – enough so there was time to get ready, you aren't too sure how that will plan out now from the traffic but Houston isn't very far now.

You honestly wish it was just you and Joel. The car ride so far has been pretty boring, if it was just the two of you the ride wouldn't be so dull. Instead you've listened to your dad talk about sports and work while Joel nodded along, occasionally replying with a sentence or two.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you that all of Joel's attention was elsewhere. But you'd also be lying if you weren't about to make his life impossible.

Because that's exactly what you do.

It's honestly not a good idea, it's risky, but you're beyond caring at this point.

You reach over for your bag, grabbing out a few snack foods you'd packed earlier. You opt out of the chips, they're probably not the most sultry thing you could eat, instead you reach for the cream puff you'd bought a few days ago and forgot about.

You'd packed it for that reason, but now it has a new purpose.

The sound of the wrapping catches the two men's attention, your dad turns in his seat to see what the noise was when he spots the pastry between your hands. “Be careful with that, don't go makin’ a mess in Joel's truck,” he says, scolds almost.

You roll your eyes slightly. “I won't,” your eyes meet Joel's in the mirror, you smile at him as you take a bite of the puff.

His eyes track you, occasionally flitting back to the road. You can tell he's trying to figure out your game, not that it's too complicated to figure out.

You pull the pastry from your mouth, your other hand coming down to cup under your chin slightly. Joel's eyes are like daggers on you as he watches you, you can see the moment he spots the cream on your lips – you spotted it too.

Your tongue darts out slowly to lick at your lips, cleaning the mess left behind running your thumb along your bottom lip for extra measure. Joel stiffens in his seat, his hand tightening on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking to the side as he watches your little performance.

You smile innocently, but you both know what you're doing.

“Light’s green bud,” your dad's voice booms, breaking Joel from his trance as his eyes move from the mirror back to the road.

You’ve stopped for gas twice now, the first time was before you’d left because Joel forgot to fill his truck up the night before. You’d be worried about not making it on time but you’ve made pretty decent time.

You’re about half way when Joel pulls into a gas station, pulling up to a pump and shutting off the car. The sound of the passenger door opening catches Joel's attention. “We all goin’?” he asks, looking back at your dad who’s already out of the car.

“Yeah, figured we could stretch our legs and all that,” your dad says, emphasizing his statement by stretching out his body.

You’re wondering about the candy section when your dad finds you. “Hey, Joel's outside filling the truck, you almost done?”

You scan the aisle one more time, snatching up a lollipop as you nod. “Yep, now I am,” you say, following him to the counter.

You swear the line takes forever, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a gas station so busy before, you stand next to your dad as he checks out, your eyes wander out one of the windows, you spot Joel almost immediately. His broad shoulders squared as he stands next to the pump.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, turning to see your dad gesturing towards the door. You follow him out, unwrapping the lollipop as you both make your way back to the truck. “Shit,” your dad mutters, ruffling through the plastic bag. “I'll be right back, forgot something.”

You nod, leaning against the side of the truck, watching as your dad jogs back into the store leaving you and Joel to finish filling the tank.

Your eyes catch Joel's, he’s standing at the bed of the truck his arms crossed along his chest, you watch the way his shirt stretches along with it.

You can tell he’s caught onto your game, has for a while now if the way the muscle in his jaw jumps says anything.

“The hell you doin’?”

You smile, pulling the sucker from your mouth with a pop. “What do you mean?”

Joel shakes his head, grabbing the pump and putting it back freeing up his pathway as he steps closer to you. “Don’t give me that, you know what I'm talking about,” he says, crowding your space slighting.

You look up at him through your lashes, doing your best to keep your expression unreadable. “You’re going to have to be specific joel,”

His jaw ticks to the side, scanning the area quickly before gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your face upwards more as he leans in. “Your little stunt in the car with the cream puff, tryna get me hot and bothered, hm?” He whispers, his tone dropping an octave sending shivers down your back.

This is the closest he’s been in hours and he still isn’t close enough.

“Wanna get us caught, hm? Is that it?” His hand slides to the base of your throat, “let your daddy find out i’m fucking his daughter?”

You part your lips, his eyes drop at the movement, you want nothing more than for him to kiss you right now to run your hands through his hair while he all but devours you. He’s thinking the same, the way his hand tightens ever so slightly around your neck as his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes.

“Joel,” you breathe, you’re not sure what you’re trying to ask but you never get a chance before the sound of your dad’s voice causes you both to spring apart.

“Are we ready?” your dad asks, tossing his things in the car and looking at you both.

“Yep,” Joel clears his throat, running a hand across his face before getting in the truck.

Your legs are practically screaming at you, sitting in the back of a pickup for hours and then climbing a set of stairs is leaving your calves burning in the worst way.

You’d finally made it to the motel you’d be staying at for the night with plenty of time to spare thankfully. When you walk into the room you’re immediately met with the ac, it’s a relief on your skin from the hot air outside.

The room’s what you’d expect a motel room to be, two double beds spaced apart with two dark night stands next to them. They’re neatly made, meaning it’ll be a battle to get into. You venture further in the room, passing by the bathroom and heading towards another door within the room.

When you open the door you’re met with another room, it’s slightly smaller with no other way out of it than the main door, there’s a single double bed in the center of the room that’s made up the same way as the other two.

Conjoined rooms. It makes sense, you toss your things on the bed closing the door. You rummage around in your bag looking for the dress you’d packed, you didn’t pack a whole lot given that you weren’t staying for very long but now as you’re searching for something to wear it feels like you did.

You end up dumping the bag, your pajamas and make up layed out on the bed as you flatten out the wrinkles of your dress, it wasn’t anything too extravagant just a simple dress that fell just above your knees.

You’re just about to put your hair up to do your makeup when the door opens, you turn to see Joell standing in the doorway, his broad frame practically taking up the entire space. He’s dressed in the same clothes he’d shown up this morning in, — save for the flannel he’d stripped himself of — a dark blue shirt that hugs his arms paired with dark washed jeans.

He stands leaning against the frame in silence as  his eyes rack up your body taking you in. “Y’look pretty,” he says, finally pushing off the frame taking slow deliberate steps towards you.

You watch his movements stood in the middle of the room, your heart rate picks up heat pooling in the bottom of your stomach from the way he’s looking at you. The atmosphere in the room is thick with need, you have half a mind to ask where your dad is.

“Oh, now you’re worried ‘bout your dad?” your eyes widen, you hadn’t thought you’d said that aloud. Joel crowds your space, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb under your chin as he tilts your head slightly.

“He left to get food, won’t be back for a little while,”

“It’s just us then?”

“Mhm,” 

You all but drag him down to your lips, your hands locked together around the back of his neck. Joel stumbles at your eagerness catching himself before he can fall, his hands falling to your waist bunching up your dress as he squeezes your sides.

You gasp softly when Joel pulls you closer, the prominent bulge of his cock digging into your hip, you grind your hips upwards seeking some sort of friction for the ache already forming between your legs.

Joel pulls away, you whine at the loss. “Should finish gettin’ ready sweetheart,” he mumbles, putting distance between you, his hands still firmly in place at your waist.

He’s teasing you now, getting you back for the car ride. But you’ve lost the patience to be teased right now, your core practically throbbing already and Joel is looking at you with a smug smirk well aware of the state you’re in.

“Joel,” you whine out, trying uselessly to pull him back towards you.

He raises his brows, keeping his distance. “Yes babygirl?” He says, rubbing circles along your sides.

“Please,” 

“Please what, darlin’?”

You groan in annoyance, if you weren’t so worked up you’d strangle him for making you beg, but you are. “Please, fuck me,”

Joel hums, looking up as if he’s contemplating, you’re certainly starting to reconsider strangling him. “Dunno know baby, might just make you wait til we get home,”

You could honestly start screaming, you’re running out of time and he’s just messing with you. You look up at him, his eyes already on you an almost amused look on his face.

You lay your hands on his shoulders as you plead. “Please. I’ll do anything just, please,”

“Yeah?” He steps closer, leading you backwards towards the bed, you nod slowly carefully walking til the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Joel lays you back, pushing whatever's on the bed to the floor as he follows you down, he nudges your legs apart so he can nestle himself between them. You wrap your hands around his neck again, pulling him down once more to your lips.

His mouth slots over yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Your body is on fire as his hands wander, sliding lower to where you need him most.

You moan into Joel's mouth, your hips grinding upwards as one of his hands slip under the hem of your dress finding your clit through the fabric of your underwear, damp from the slick leaking from your core.

He rubs gentle circles against your clit, kissing his way down your neck. You run your hands through his hair gripping the strands as you gasp and moan.

Joel pulls his hand away from your core, you whine at the loss, he pulls away from you, his hands sliding up your legs. His fingers slip under your waistband, pulling your underwear down off your legs and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Joel,” you squirm under him, his eyes flick back up to yours, he watches you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand slides back up your leg spreading them so he can nestle between them again.

“I know,” he rasps, two of his fingers running through your arousal, collecting the slick before sliding the two digits past your entrance slowly, your head falling back against the pillows as you moan softly.

He thrusts his fingers, a slow back and forth rhythm, curling them upward on every inward thrust. Your hips rock up encouraging him to move faster, every inward thrust paired with the rock your hips has Joel hitting the spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

His thumb finds your clit rubbing circles on the bud, your hands seek purchase on his shoulders, rumpling his shirt as you ball your fists. “This what you wanted, baby?” He taunts, pulling his fingers almost completely out then thrusting them back in.

You nod, your voice lost to the moans and gasps. “Could've asked ‘stead of teasin’ me all day,” Joel drawls, his voice thick with lust, his hips slowly rutting into the mattress.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” You finally breathe out.

You hear Joel grumble something under his breath, you don’t catch what before he’s back to thrusting his fingers at a fast pace, his hips grinding down matching the rhythm of his fingers.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, the warmth building at the bottom of your stomach. Joel can sense it too, his fingers working more determinedly, his thumb applying more pressure on your clit as he works to push you over the edge. “You gonna cum?” He drawls in your ear lowly, placing delicate kisses below your ear.

A soft moan elicits itself from your throat, nodding your head quickly, your toes curling up as your orgasm approaches. “Words darlin’,” he nips at your earlobe.

“y– ha – yes,”

“That's it babygirl, let go,” he coo’s gently, encouraging you, and you do. You grip Joel's arms, tossing your head back, your mouth agape, a chain of moans escaping. Your walls clench around his fingers, your body shuddering under the weight of your orgasm.

“There you go, good girl,” Joel praises softly, slowing his fingers as you come down from your high. He watches the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, your body relaxing into the bed. You haven’t fully come down from your high before beginning to fumble with the button of his jeans, Joel's hand lays over yours stopping your movements. “Woah, slow down darlin’,” he chuckles.

You groan in frustration, throwing your head back against the pillows once more. “Joel.” you grumble.

“Ask nicely,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

You groan again looking up at him again. “Please,” 

He pulls your hand away, carefully pinning it above your head as he deftly works open the button of his pants, swiftly pushing them past his hips along with his underwear. You can tell he’s running out of patience — and time — to keep teasing you from the way he all but hurriedly frees his aching cock.

You watch as he strokes himself, a careful back and forth motion, his brows furrowed in pleasure. He nudges your legs further apart nestling his hips between your thighs, you wrap your legs around him pulling him closer to you. The head of his cock nudges against your clit eliciting a gasp.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes, closing his eyes tightly, his teeth grinding together slightly.

He lets out a breath, composing himself, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, sliding the tip along your folds and through arousal using it to slick himself up. Holding your breath everytime the tip catches your clit.

He does that a few more times, his cock only catching your entrance before pulling away. “Just, fuck me,” you huff irritatedly.

“Bein’ a real brat, y’know that?” Joel grumbles, lining his cock up with your entrance. “Should leave you like this, let you go to the concert soakin’,” he never gives you the chance to say anything before he’s pushing his hips forward, stretching you open.

You moan out your legs tightening around his hips, he sets a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping upwards, the head of his cock pushing further on every thrust.

Your hands find their way to Joel’s hair, pulling the strands as you toss your head back in pleasure, your eyes rolling backwards. Joel groans, his head falling on your chest, his hot breath ghosting the skin there.

The room was filled with both of your breaths, soft moans mixing with heavy groans as Joel fucked into your heat. His hand slides down your side, his thumb finding your clit once more drawing tight circles, your moans growing in pitch. Joel slots his mouth over yours, muffling your moans slightly in a heated kiss, your teeth clashing together.

“Be. Quiet.” He manages to gasp out between kisses. You mumble out what sounds like an affirmative, he moves down your neck leaving open mouthed kisses along the skin there, his teeth lightly nipping there. But he knows better than to leave any marks.

His hips continue to ground into you, his cock pushing further and further, his tip grazing against the spot inside you that leaves you breathless. “Yeah? Right there?” He quirks an eyebrow, watching as you bite your lower lip in an effort to muffle your moans.

You nod your head, unable to form any words, your walls tighten around him, you can feel yourself getting closer. His pace quickens, his hips pounding into you faster working vigorously to get you there before him. “Go on baby, le — fuck — let go,” he stutters, his hips faltering slightly.

Your legs tighten around his hips as your orgasm gets closer, the feel of his cock pushing you over the edge. Your walls clamp down, your legs practically going numb as your eyes rolling as pleasure washed over you. Joel’s movements slow as you come around him. “That’s it babygirl, there you go. Cum around me, good girl,” he soothes, a desperate moan escaping.

When you finally come down from your high Joel’s movements pick up speed again, working desperately to push himself over the edge he’d been teetering on for a while now.

You run your hands through his hair, pulling him closer, trailing kisses up his neck and below his ear, lightly biting the lobe as his hips begin to stutter. “Fuck darilin’, so fuckin’ pretty it hurts,” he rambles, his head falling to your shoulder.

He groans, his hips stopping as he cums, his warm load coating the inside of your walls. His body slackens slightly, careful not to put his weight on you. For a while the only sound filling the room is that of both your breaths.

After a few more bouts of silence Joel finally speaks up. “Should get cleaned up and finish gettin’ ready,” he says, groaning as he slowly pulls out, carefully tucking himself away before extracting himself from the bed. “C’mon,” he pats your leg, moving towards the door.

You sit up on your elbows, watching him from the bed. “What about my underwear?” You ask, Joel turns to face you from the doorway.

“What about them?” He doesn’t say anything else, never gives you the chance to say anything either before he’s out the door a smug smirk plastered across his face.

You stare out the door at a loss, eventually falling back against the bed, you know you should get up and finish getting ready before your dad gets back, but if you’re being honest you don’t think you could get up right now.

Instead you lay there staring at the ceiling, a ridiculous grin spread across your face. Teasing Joel with your dad around may have been a bad idea, but you’d do it again if it got you here.

[ssspideysense]

summary: peter knows a thing or two about yearning.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: coworkers, pining, alcohol, i’ve had this in my drafts forever

wc: 2.7k

He listened to the jingle of your keys clutched in your unsteady hand. A graceless windchime, a temporary distraction from the heat of your skin through your clothes on his palm. And maybe even worse– from the smell of your perfume, sweet and fresh, mixed dangerously with the alcohol on your breath.

You were drunk. Past buzzed, past tipsy, you’d downed probably two or three too many drinks from the open bar at the company party, but that’s okay. You deserved to have fun.

Peter had his eye on you all night anyways, turned just the right angle in every conversation he half-assed his way through to keep you in his peripheral vision.

Normally Peter didn’t attend work events like this one. He was busy enough, tired enough to generally not care about his day job’s extracurriculars, but this evening was different— mostly because he overheard you chattering to a coworker about it last Tuesday.

You hemmed and hawed about whether you’d be attending or not: your first Bugle event, someone’s retirement party, some higher up whom you’d never met. “But there’s always free booze and fancy finger food,” your coworker had promised, which made you pause and hum to yourself.

“Eh… I might go. We’ll see.”

And despite himself, he hoped you would. It’d be the perfect loophole to this dilemma he’d put himself in a handful of months ago when you first started at the Bugle, when he first met you.

So, he went. And, thank the stars, so did you.

He didn’t know where you lived before that night, but he found it a little funny, standing in the hallway while you finally pushed your front door open. He’d swung over your building often during his nights out in his suit, and now, you were clumsily pulling him into the cool air of your dark, quiet living room. Peter tried not to trip over his own feet (or yours, for that matter), and reminded himself that you were the intoxicated one, and he needed to get it together, for both of your sakes.

He couldn’t help the grin on his face. “Careful,” his hand caught your arm in the darkness, steadying you. “I think your new limit of vodka cranberries has dropped to… hm, three? I think that’s pretty reasonable.”

You gave him a little scoff, attempting to peel off your shoes while hanging onto the wall. “Shut up— it’s just dark,” you replied. And it was, but you knew that wasn’t the only reason, nor was the alcohol in your system.

It wasn’t hard to notice Peter’s eyes on you earlier in the evening. Plenty of your coworkers had shown up to the rented venue, but the place wasn’t packed. You spotted Peter leaning by a pillar, chatting with someone that worked on a different floor than the both of you. There was a moment of eye-contact, a soft smile from you, then him, but then your attention was drawn away by your friend at your side.

As far as you knew, Peter Parker was a bit elusive around the office and often made himself scarce, but the few times you’d been caught in the elevator together or had to collaborate on some project or another were always pleasant. He was polite, with a nice smile and warm brown eyes.

… and really, really nice hands, you realized once you flipped the hallway light on. His fingers were long and slender and your eyes followed the prominent veins raised up under his skin.

He was just about to pull away when your hold slipped on the wall, jostling you forward a bit. “Woah— alright, maybe two vodka cranberries,” he chuckled, and it did more to you than you’d ever admit while sober.

“Stop making fun of me,” you lamented, laughing despite yourself, “you’re supposed to be helping me.”

“I am helping you.”

“Does your help always come with sassy commentary?”

Peter made a sound halfway between surprise and amusement. “Sassy? I prefer witty, or maybe charming.”

You plopped yourself down on the bench in the entryway. A groan slipped out from your lips and you threw your head back, managing to not knock your head despite the dramatics. “I’d prefer if you got these damn shoes off of me before I lose it.”

He shook his head, but he was already kneeling down to the hardwood. The itty bitty buckled strap around your ankle gave him a hard time for a second, and a little huff of humor puffed out from his chest, “did you need me to make your bed, too? Check under your mattress for a pea?” Peter mused. With one shoe now slipped off, you lifted your other foot up. Automatically, his head lifted a bit, his gaze traveled up your shin, over the long stretch of smooth skin, all the way to the hem of your dress shifted above your knee.

Shit.

“I think I can tuck myself in,” you rolled your eyes, “unless you’re feeling extra generous.”

There was a clock ticking somewhere in your apartment— it was what Peter chose to focus his reeling brain on after he quickly looked away and back to the task at hand. He cleared his throat lightly and worked on freeing your other foot. You more than likely weren’t really aware of what you were saying, or how hard it made his heart thump in his chest. It was fine. He’d get your shoes off and bid you goodnight and leave.

A soft sigh from you broke the thick blanket of quiet once the other shoe was off. Your feet hurt and you swore to yourself you wouldn’t wear them again for a while… even if they were cute. Reaching, your hand smoothed down your calf to your ankle, to the irritation mark from a couple hours of wear. You sucked a little hiss in through your teeth.

“You okay?” Peter’s voice was soft, softer than before, when he was teasing you.

“Yeah— I hate those things, they’re so uncomfortable. I wish they didn’t look so good.”

He found himself agreeing begrudgingly in his head.

You always looked good at the office. A pretty blouse usually tucked into some slacks, your hair effortlessly laid, your smile bright. Beautiful.

But sometimes you’d wear one of those skirts that made your legs look a mile long. You always looked good. At your desk, in the elevator, in the break room, at some old man’s retirement party, and now, sitting in your entryway, gazing down at him with a hazy sort of warmth in your expression.

His eyes settled on your fingers, the way they nursed over the little pinch point left by the tiny silver buckle. Peter gently held your ankle in his hand and a soft, feather light touch smoothed across your skin— you were so soft, like silk, he realized, with his gaze locked onto where his fingertips grazed.

Beautiful.

At some point earlier in the night, your friend skittered off in the pursuit of avoiding some guy from IT that she’d had a messy sort of fling with— you’d already heard all the drama, and didn’t blame her for leaving early, though you couldn’t resist ribbing her a bit before she left. “Maybe this is why we don’t sleep with our coworkers?” You mused, watching her down the last of her drink and stand up.

She shot you a glare with a toss of her hair over her shoulder. “Slut shaming now?”

“No, never,” you replied honestly, but still grinned at her. “Just curious about your selection. There’s not exactly a limited market of available, less complicated men to sleep with, y’know.”

Purse strap hooked over her shoulder, she let out a breath, a familiar and somewhat devious smile growing on her lips. “Oh, come on, like you’ve never thought about it before. Makes it more interesting, more exciting,” she said, and nudged your shoulder, “don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” And with that, she scampered off, leaving you with your drink and your thoughts.

Peter had noticed when your friend left— mostly because of the distinct lack of your laughter now from across the room. The shift was intriguing, to say the least. Not ten minutes prior were you giggling up a storm and bantering and sharing little stories, but when he looked over at you again, you were quiet, idly sipping from your glass while scrolling through your phone. Peter couldn’t help but chuckle a little, hiding it under a strategic nose scratch. The conversation he was barely a part of continued around him without missing a beat.

He didn’t come to stare at you from a distance all night, but he couldn’t exactly see himself actually approaching you with anything interesting enough to say. Every scenario that passed through his head while he watched your lips nurse the black plastic straw felt so cheesy, so cringe-worthy.

Hey, I noticed you when I walked in, not because I specifically looked for you, or anything. Now that you’re sitting here alone, I’m sure you appreciate some guy coming up and trying to talk to you out of nowhere. I’m Peter, by the way, because I honestly don’t expect you to remember my name, even though you’ve worked a few desks away from mine for three months now. And, yes, I’ve been keeping track.

Yeah, right. He had an hour so far to think of some sort of game plan, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus. It was probably a lost cause anyways. You were way out of his league.

He was just about to shift back to the group of men he stood with, but then, you looked up. Right to him, like you knew he was already there, already looking at you.

And you smiled again, a radiant sort of smile that twisted his insides.

“I’m gonna grab a refill,” he muttered out loud, as if anyone around him would notice if he slipped away, before his legs started working on their own.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him now, knelt down before you, his calloused hands ghosting almost reverently on your leg. Your sweet, polite, somewhat aloof coworker Peter Parker, making goosebumps raise so easily with just a few simple touches. The swirl of tingly heat that tickled your insides almost sent a shiver down your spine.

Slowly, you pulled your own hand back to rest on your knee, and Peter’s fingers traced up to the sore spot you were just worrying over.

It was suddenly so quiet— you figured he could hear your heartbeat, after accepting the fact that he probably heard the way your breath caught in your throat, too.

Peter gently pressed his thumb into the little indented line that encircled you from the ankle strap. He lightly began to knead around the area, massaging, all in the faith of aiding blood flow, of course. Just because he was helpful, of course. He swallowed quietly.

“Does, ah… how’s that?” Peter asked, his voice low, and you sucked in a breath through your nose when he looked up at you. “Feel… better, at all?”

He had those big brown eyes and those stupid long eyelashes that some guys were needlessly blessed with. Casually, helplessly good looking.

Your legs shifted just slightly as you held his gaze, thighs pressed together. “Mhm,” you breathed out, “yeah, that feels nice.” There was probably more to be said, but you couldn’t bring yourself to find the words with a brain like mush and your tongue so suddenly heavy in your mouth.

It was his turn to suck in a breath. “Yeah?”

Warmth radiated from your face. Booze, hormones, whatever— your pulse was giddy, an ache quickly creeping up between your thighs. His voice was so soft, just a little rasp to it. Slowly, you nodded, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Alcohol rarely had any sort of desired effect on Peter, and that night was no different, but he ordered another anyway, because he couldn’t just turn around and high-tail it out of there now. Not when he watched you watch him walk over and lean his forearms onto the bartop so casually, as if he knew what he was doing.

Your gaze flickered over him without trying much to hide it— he looked good, though he usually did day to day in the office, too. But tonight his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hair was a little bit messy and you caught the subtle shift of his eyes over to you once he was given his drink.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you mused without thinking, the little plastic straw sitting between your lips.

Peter turned to you as if he hadn’t been acutely aware of your presence the entire night. “Likewise,” a light grin grew on his face, “are you having fun yet?”

The way your eyes settled on him, hedged by such long, curled lashes— something kicked around in his chest. “Are you kidding? I entered the raffle and everything. Here’s hoping I go home with that bluetooth toaster,” you hummed.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “What, so you can preheat from your garage?”

“A win’s a win, isn’t it, Parker?”

Despite your friendly demeanor, a sense of slight surprise washed over him when you said his name. Surprise and, embarrassingly enough, a sense of warmth. “Yeah, s’pose so. Can’t say I wouldn’t be at least a little jealous,” he sipped his drink just to busy his awkward mouth.

Your amusement sparkled in your eyes. “Yeah? Jealous of me and my thousand dollar toaster?” The giggle that slipped from your lips was enough to make his heart thump against his ribcage. Hearing it up close was infinitely better than picking it out from a crowd. “Maybe I’ll let you borrow it some time,” you said.

“How humble and gracious of you,” his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I’m nothing if not humble and gracious.”

You kept your eyes on him as you sipped from your straw, and he couldn’t look away if he tried. “I dunno, I think there’s at least a few more words to describe you. Like, ah… funny, charismatic,” Peter paused, watching you swallow, “and, um, pretty— ah, beautiful. Just to… just to name a few.”

He looked down to where his fingers gently rubbed slow little circles into your skin, just above your ankle. There wasn’t enough air in your entryway anymore. Not in a claustrophobic sort of way— more like he was suddenly aware of how close you were, how heavy your gaze was on him from your perch on the bench, how hot his breath fanned over your bare skin.

It’d be so easy. So, so easy to just… lean down, press his lips to your shin, pepper a trail up to your knee, gently ease your legs apart… he could smell you, in the moment, not just in his imagination. The light musk of arousal mixed so dangerously with your sweet aroma.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be doing this.

Up, up, his hand smoothed up the back of your calf just slightly, before he gave a gentle squeeze and pulled his hands away. “Right,” Peter stood and straightened, clearing his throat again. He had to avoid eye contact. He wasn’t sure he could handle whatever expression you were giving him at the moment. “You’re home safe, heels are off… it’s getting pretty late, so… you should probably head to bed and prepare for the worst hangover ever tomorrow,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, punctuated with an airy chuckle.

Your eyes followed him as he stood. One hand shoved into his pocket, the other ran through his messy hair. A twinge of something like disappointment clenched at your stomach. “Right,” you mirrored him, both of your bare feet on the ground now.

And you both just looked at each other like that for what felt like forever. You, gazing up at him, and Peter, with his head tilted down at you.

There was so much he wanted to say, but none of it would leave his throat, so he settled for a smile and a little nod. “Yeah… um, goodnight. I’ll… see you at work, yeah?”

God. Way to go. Completely fumbled everything.

But, after a beat or two of quiet, you smiled back. Soft, warm. Your eyes flitted over his face, the stubble along his jaw and the little secret worry line between his brows.

“Yeah.” Your heart pattered in your chest. “Goodnight, Peter.”

[kitnita]

Robo/otter for the ship ask thing bc I’m kinda slightly obsessed with the way that you write them about them in fics/tags and this way you have to say more stuff. (Insert evil laughter)

god this is almost too open ended ........ my brain is exploding with everything i could say about their vibes & why they work for me as much as they do. this is really like. the essayiest essay of all of these so it is MOSTLY under the cut & i hope it appeases your evil laughter <3

i think the basis of the appeal of them for me is the same of any ship you build up out of people in the same draft class — whether you're looking at preexisting besties who get broken up or strangers who become insanely important to each other in an instant, there's a very real hand-of-fate quality there & that makes everything about the 2017 draft class in particular feel kind of fairy tale.

and otter is SO aware of it. they both give insane quotes about each other on the reg & have since their rookie season (the fact that it's Their Rookie Season is both another point & part of the same point; like, that was also tydel's rookie season, but also, he's not part of their conversation yk?) but otter especially is always talking about how happy he is that robo plays in dallas with him & how he hopes he continues to never have to play against him, etc etc etc.

otter's almost ...... intensely introspective. like, his quotes on the podcast he did for pavs' company about wishing he could go back & play just one more game with every old team of his are insane. BUT both of them have spent soooo much time this season talking about how they still look at each other as the same guy they came up with in the ahl which gives me absolute brainworms. i think it really started in earnest w media asking robo about otter at the all star weekend, but then they both had carte blanche to keep talking about growing up together & how they don't look at each other any different now.

they're both just so aware of the narrative & their respective places in it (otter always calling himself the best & his teammates the best as a way of shouldering his own high expectations; robo always tempering people's praise of him by calling out his weaknesses & what he does to offset them; etc etc etc). BUT they both seemed to have readily accepted that they come as a package deal, narratively, which i just think is the height of romance in sports. agreeing that you come as a duo with someone ..... that you shouldn't be separated ....... that you've been together for long enough that the other person's changes simply do not register .............. Peak Romance!!

when robo finally got a contract signed last season, the first thing he did was change his pfp to a pic of him embracing otter & looking at things from a shipping lens it's like. well obviously. to both of them, being part of this team means being together. all other vibes can be built from there.

there's also other less Foundational aspects of their vibe that really work imo!!

like obviously they're both different flavors of weird-normal, which i love. they're both so proud of being Normal Guys but it's clear that they are also, yk. freaks. i think they should be freaks together because they're obviously complimentary flavors of freak. also the jakey nickname!! i know a lot of the guys use that for otter now but robo started it. razor even called out that jakey was a robo-ism. that their love language is being assholes to each other at practice is so fun. robo's just obsessed w goalies & i think it was soooo nice of jim nill to draft a lil freak goalie at the same time as him so they could just be a matched set forever.

[frozen-seagrass]

The WALL-E au no one asked for

[coolnonsenseworld]

Samurai and Ninja in crappy pics because December here is under a constant cloud and I just want y'all to see them all golden and cute without learning how to take aesthetic pictures 🥴 💙❤️😆🥰

linktr.ee/Mezzy

[onebarofsoap]

played pokemon platinum recently and swept the league with nothing but my overleveled team of two guys named steamed bun and egg tart 💪

[crescentfool]

the persona 3 protagonist 25th anniversary nui in food appliances!

[sisterjaniswilde]

I am dead fucking serious when I say I wish I saw more fat women in public. I want to see fat models. I want to see fat women in department stores getting absolutely HYPE when they find racks and racks of clothing in their size and sizes up, so they too can get the "oversized, baggy fit" like women who fit into smalls and mediums. I want to see fat women wearing crop tops proudly and rocking mad midriff. I want to see fat women trying on clothing for their friends and family and saying "look! it compliments my body shape! it's like it was made for me!" I want to see fat women with "cankles" wearing pretty jingling anklets skipping and jumping just to show them off. I want to see fat women on TV, in magazines, on billboards, in all manner of ads, and in online shop images because I want to see my fucking self and all the women I know who don't see enough of themselves. I want to see fat women living, loving, and being visibly proud of who they are because they are beautiful, WE are beautiful. I want to see fat women because fat women need to see other fat women.

[starflungwaddledee]

kirbytober 2023 21 + 26 : fav characters + ship [ prev || next ]

putting this at the top because it's extremely important but i received a message implying that some folks headcanon these two as drastically different ages. you may headcanon whatever you like of course, but in my work i firmly think that they're both full adults who are at least 25+. this is abundantly clear in my work. i'm not interested in headcanoning any of them as literal children and i would never touch that shit. dni if you think that sort of ship would actually be okay. don't be a freak. thanks.

very typical to take your favs and then also shove them together but isn't that the point. anyway i have literally never seen anybody else ship them (if you're out there... hello... 😭) despite them both being very main characters and i don't know why?? they could be so cute i think...

they are both industrious adventurers, prolific hard-workers (team task doers), and a little cheekily competitive!

i think that bandee is no stranger to a wide variety of close and intense relationships; he's beloved by many and loves them all equally but distinctly in turn. magolor on the other hand has been sooo isolated and lonely for such a long-ass time, he barely knows how to be friends let alone really care for someone. bandee is smart enough to be suitably wary but kind enough to give him a chance despite that, which i think would knock him off his non-existent feet instantly. in reply, magolor could give him something unique by loving and prioritising him utterly singularly, in a way bandee wouldn't even have realised he was missing

in awtdy (pictured in the sketch page; if you see a tattered looking magolor in my art it's probably this au) in particular they are both thrown into the angst soup together and come out insanely trauma bonded at the hip. their friendship/relationship is central to the plotline; together they're working on a solution to the timeline anomaly, while also hiding that they even really know each other the whole time

[rainoverthewindow]

Snowgrave Berdly my dear boy

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

"if monkie kid drops in that time I will simply combust" I'm guessing you got a little toasted?

Jokes on you I've been offline all week cause I was hanging out with a friend, what'd I miss?

[carmineskiesandspidereyes]

A Softer Trigun, part 13/?

pt. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

[ghost-bard]

Love being an arcane warrior in dao i love swinging a giant maul around and being in armour but also casting walking nightmare and horror on my enemies i think swords are cooler but the affect of a maul is funnier than big sword in my opinion. I have like 3 affects (at the minimum) going on at all times and then i do an aoe chug some lyrium just in case and bludgen some guy to death. What.

[faehrnem]

In a different timeline, where Faehrnem never comes to be as the Bold Tree follows in his older sister's footsteps by setting aside his own wants and dreams to instead begrudgingly take on his role as an avatar.

[crunchchute]

holy moly. just hit 1k. thank you!!

[goldkirk]

I opened Pinterest for the first time in months.

That made me realize a lot about how bad I was actually doing and how much of a Waffle House Index use of Pinterest is for adult me, apparently.

I hadn’t realized it had grown that foundational to me in a healthy-brain-exercise-and-hobby-joy way. Nice to know moving forward! It’s another sign I can keep track of and use to spot correlation/indicator patterns earlier my behavior.

I love this kind of thing, it makes me so excited!