#idk about the pacing on this one :/

[nerdstify]

day in

day out

likes do nothing!

[shrinevandal]

lost meme dump because i cannot be assed to make individual posts

[my-dear-ceramic-frogs]

McGill sweatshirttt

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 15 - Dirty talk

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: fingering, penetration, teasing, dirty talk, a little praise

word count: 1625

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

It was a huge relief, after the mission. You got to watch Maverick relax for the first time in weeks. The stress that had been very visibly plaguing his existence had finally gone. Watching his regular demeanor return more and more each passing day was a treat. You loved him, you loved seeing him smile, but it also came with extra perks. Now able to settle in at home with you more comfortably, Maverick was touching you a lot. Coming up behind you, kissing you for longer periods of time, purposely pressing himself against you in bed.

He was being a tease.

Waiting for you to cave first.

But two can play that game. That’s why now, after a very romantic dinner on the porch, you’re ignoring Maverick’s very suggestive stare from across the table. He watches from under his eyebrows, a slight curve pulling at the corner of his lips as you ramble about something he’s unintentionally tuning out. And maybe that was your goal, to get him absolutely entranced with some food and his favorite wine and you purposely dressing in something you know drives him wild.

You’re sure you’ve won the game when he suddenly stands, but then he dramatically stretches his arms above his head, feigning exhaustion. He makes some comment about cleaning up and heading to bed, but you can surely swear that the sudden smirk on his face as he picks up the plates and wanders inside has something to do with the brief discontent on your face.

You’re not gonna beat him at his own game, are you?

Huffing, you stand and help clean up. Maybe once you’re settled in bed, you’ll make a silly comment about how his age is starting to show. That will surely get him to crack, you think, what with his constant need to take a challenge and all.

After cleaning, your plotting follows you to your bedroom, where Maverick is already taking his shirt off for comfort. You try not to stare, try to continue playing hard to get, but that’s incredibly difficult at the sight of his spotted skin. Bruises, blotches of purple and red, litter his torso. Even after a week post-mission, they’re only starting to lighten up. 

“Like what you see?” he suddenly remarks, throwing you off guard.

“No,” you immediately bite, eyes darting away to resume your little game.

He smiles, playful. “Seems I’ve got you a little riled up, no?”

You focus on removing your own top, whether that be to initiate something or to simply change into PJs. You shrug, matching his smile. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maverick’s eyebrow cocks, a silent Challenge accepted. 

He’s biting back a grin when he launches himself after you, pinning you to the mattress with ease. You pretend to fight him off, mostly just squirming as he presses his body to yours. His solid warmth is comforting for a quick second, until it’s not, his hips rutting up against yours. The sensation wipes the smile right off your face. Maverick stares as he repeats the motion, teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip. The hard material of his jeans sends a pleasing jolt up your body. He grinds against you once more, the material rough against your inner thighs, and you whine quietly. 

“You done pretending?” he asks, his voice soft but patronizing.

“You’re imagining things,” you contend, eager to rile him up just to see where it takes you. 

“I don’t think I am.”

You stare up at him, trying to give him that very defying look he likes giving everybody else. “You are.”

Maverick continues to stare, and then his face softens. Above you, he leans down and gently presses his lips to yours. You giggle internally. Success. You’ve fucking got him. Soft lips tenderly move yours, calloused hands placed on your ribs, massaging at your skin. He’s got such a way of kissing you. It’s always deep, no matter the pace. Almost hypnotizing. That’s why you jerk in surprise when his hand is suddenly down your pants, the trailing of his fingers alone sending tingles up your body.

You gasp against his mouth, and he pulls away to watch your face as the pad of his middle finger parts you open.

You try to hold back your whimpers as he prods at your slit, bringing his finger up to his tongue and then back down to rub in circles. The bit of spit immediately helps slick you up, and his finger slips inside. He watches you with an innocent look on his face, like he’s still winning the game somehow. And maybe he is, with the way you’re desperately bucking against his hand. 

“Doin’ alright, honey?” he asks, tone as innocent as the look on his face—funnily enough—as his finger works in and out of you. 

You breathe out, slightly exasperated at his pace. He always does this; always likes to take his time loosening you up. Likes talking and frustrating you so that you grow needier. It’s a very torturous tradition. But it is pleasureful. 

Maverick notices the strained look on your face, raises his brows when a second finger elicits a sharp noise out of you. “You look frustrated.”

“You’re teasing me,” you whine, wrapping a hand around his free arm and squeezing.

“I’m not,” he insists. 

“Please, just—” 

Wrist slightly strained, he removes his fingers and waits for you to finish. “Please what?”

“Pete.”

He hums, his hand coming out of your pants to pull them down. Chills run up your exposed legs at the cool air in the room, Maverick’s warmth no longer covering you as he sits back to pull the rest of his clothes off. 

Forgetting all about your little game, you reach up for him with grabby hands as he settles in next to you. His hard cock presses against your thigh as he brings you close, your hips sputtering against him for contact. He’s seemingly amused at your enthusiasm, but his demeanor changes when he’s got you flush against him. 

There’s a very intense intimacy that comes with almost everything he does. The kiss, the talking, now this. You’re nearly breathless as you face him, faces inches apart, his expression serious and soft all at once. He likes watching you, that you know, his lips parted as he slowly stretches you around the tip of his dick. It’s little by little that he starts to push in, feeling your body tense in the one arm he’s got wrapped around you. 

A hot, blazing blush spreads in your cheeks. His gaze is overwhelming and just as intense as everything else. You try to hold eye contact as he pushes in more and more, until his hips finally meet yours. His cock fully inside you, you shudder. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, leaning to kiss your collarbone. 

Whines stuck in your throat, you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. 

He groans then, the noise right in your ear. “You feel good.”

The tight knot inside you tenses even more at his voice, so soft compared to the filthy, delicious ache down below. 

Maverick holds you tight when he starts rocking up into you, slowly at first. He gradually picks up the pace as he feels your body’s responses, eager and aching for him. Fingernails dig into his back, a frustrated whine finally escaping you. He’s hitting the perfect spot inside you, but not fast enough. And he seems to be doing it purposely. 

“Right there?” he asks, guiltless. 

“Harder,” you plead through heavy pants, clutching at him.

A sharp snap of his hips. You wail out. He gives you a long, wet kiss, pulls back and then snaps his hips again. 

“More, more, more,” you chant, head thrown back, exposing your neck to him.

He leans down to nip at your skin and trail his tongue along it when his pace finally meets your needs. Hard, heated thrusts. The sound fills the room, along with his breathy groans, and your spill of cries and incoherent mumbling. 

“You wanted this tonight, didn’t you?” he asks against your neck. 

“Yes,” you breathe, “Yes, yes.”

“I know,” he murmurs, his hands roughly adjusting you by your hips to fuck into you at a better angle. “I know you did, baby.”

“Oh, God,” you cry, moans trapped in your throat. 

“I always know.”

Fucking Christ. Him and his ego. Too bad you’re too out of it to even argue with him, the pleasure licking up your body like fire. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, a little bit more,” he urges, voice just above a whisper. “Just… ah, just a little.”

“Pete—I,” you stutter, the feeling in your abdomen threatening to spill.

His pace doesn’t falter, and he doesn’t slow. His thrusts do get a bit sloppy, but that’s from the angle, your bodies grooving together with every sharp motion. 

“Let it go, come on,” he coaxes, hands rubbing up and down your waist. “Let me feel you.”

The orgasm is earth-shattering, Maverick’s voice ringing in your ears as everything around you blurs in white hot bliss. He holds you through it, arms pulling you as close as can be. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, loud and pounding, just as yours is. Your cries are silenced by his mouth on yours, a soft and languid kiss.

Savoring the feeling, he grins against your lips. “I won.”

Even in the middle of the very overwhelming wave of pleasure, you pull back, perplexed. “You won what?” 

He tries to catch his breath. “The whole thing we had going on.”

He’s not serious. 

“Pete, you literally initiated this.”

Tongue in cheek, he visibly thinks about it. “I’m pretty sure it was you.”

[leenfiend]

a short zine about a lack of object permanence

[usercelestial]

i love nandermo for a lot of reasons but honestly it's one of the ships that i just have the best relationship with. like i love it with all my heart but i do not think it's going to go canon and it's awesome, at least from my perspective, that i'm seeing people be okay with that, like it's so refreshing to see people content with the idea that the show isn't going to give this to you, nandermo lives in fandomville and will probably never move to canon but at least we have fanon <3

[skateboard-theta]

4:23 AM is the perfect time to get angry over Sarge’s death

[waitineedaname]

I really love how much mp100 stands out against other shows of its genre with its finale. there isn't some final boss, there's no grand fight between good and evil. it is, like the show has always been, about emotions and self acceptance. the finale barely involves fight scenes in the traditional sense, like I wouldn't call the encounters with teru and ritsu fight scenes since neither of them intend to hurt him, and even the fight with the suzukis ends not with someone being defeated but rather with an emotional break through. the final conflict is resolved not with violence and defeat. it's resolved with honesty and compassion and self-love. I can't get over how deeply kind this series is

[sleepinglionhearts]

Work things, OCs, and... yeah

[froschli96]

you know, i always find it really funny when dudebros complain about syndicate and odyssey being too "jokey" or not "taking its characters seriously" or whatever…

like, did y'all collectively sleep through "it's-a me, mario!", "i meant besides vaginas", ezio inventing the latte, bartolomeo's... just... *gestures vaguely* entire character, etc?

like, it's fine to have preferences of course, i myself prefer a more serious and grounded tone, but these are usually the same people who tout the ezio trilogy as "peak assassin's creed", call ac1 a glorified tech demo and hate on connor for being "too serious and boring", like? make it make sense!

[francy-sketches]

The age difference between tommen and myrcella bothers me way more than it should like sometimes it's 2 whole years sometimes they're the exact same age like grrm wanted to make them twins but he forgot. Girl what is the truth

[waywardsalt]

with my phantom hourglass replay, there are two things i noticed;

a possible theme you could glean from the game is action vs inaction, and i think it's especially prevalent before you even leave mercay the first time, with oshus frequently urging link to not go after the ghost ship, then to just wait until the broken bridge is fixed, and seems reluctant at every turn while link and ciela are more than eager to go and do something about this problem, and the people of mercay in general talking about things and their problems but never seeming to act on their fears or desires, as well as the mention that due to the ghost ship, very very few people are still sailing around, while linebeck is one of the only people we see in the game actively going after the ghost ship and still sailing around. i might make a longer post just talking more about the action vs inaction in phantom hourglass but i just noticed it a bit and thought it was a bit of an interesting sort of theme you could find in the game.

linebeck moves so fucking much. i think he moves more than any npc in the rest of the game. not just in his intro cutscene where he is very animated, just in how much he moves when just standing in his little idle post, it's damn near distracting when the camera is focused on him, he moves a lot. i don't think i've really acknowledged how much he moves, and it really gives the impression that he's antsy or eager to get going, both of which fit him pretty well with how he acts.

[spinetacks]

🐌 💤

[normalenjoyer-png]

sorry i think smiling friends is such a perfect show. they did such a phenomenal job with the jokes and comedic timing and despite it being a VERY joke-heavy show, it does not feel like those shitty netflix family guy ripoffs. like i am just absolutely enamored with their ability to do that

[dykeomania]

i don't really mean to ruin your day, but like (not proofread),

made sleepy by unforgiving winters and a population of people who were only young, once, the carnival reminds modern!ellie’s small wyoming town of what it’s like to be youthful, and alive.

tellingly so, people in her town consider this the happiest event of the year. but if it’s just between ellie and god, the significance of multicolored fair rides or the sun beaming hard enough to scorch the morning dew off of joel’s front lawn faces no match against the hatchling of your smile, once made dormant under the hazy coat of november through april, and defrosted by the month of july.

it’s the 4th. and amongst a spectacular of beams and fireworks slashing through a sky made thick with clouds, ellie swears that tonight she will kiss the girl of her daydreams. 

she has also sworn this, for the past three summers.

for the past three summers, she has ridden the same rides with you in almost identical order – familiar of every trough, and yet screaming with you through every loop. you take the same edibles, and you get the same order of fried concoctions, from the same stand and share the same $7 lemonade, from the same cup and the same swirly straw. 

it’s the same saccharine fling, bubble-wrapped in infatuation, and spared the harm of teeth sinking into its flesh in fear of eviscerating the bond that lies underneath.

but she swears, she will kiss you. this time, she will. she swears, she will.

with tongues coated with carbs and a mind made dizzy with sugar, you make the decision to ride the ferris wheel. she buries herself in the brash cackle of your laugh as she nearly rocks the cart off of its hinges. as you settle, belly and chest full of brightness, ellie watches you. your back is slumped against the metal, your head is thrown, and a hand is splayed over your stomach. the neons of the park flicker and change as you the two of you pass through them. ellie watches as they paint your body, electric; this way, she can see the symptoms of summer, highlighted, right on your cheekbones. beaming brightly, adding a shimmer to your smile, like a sparkle on a wink. ellie always has a tendency of falling in love with girls who are nothing like her. in the summer, ellie just burns. but not you. you have always glowed. 

the fireworks break through the sky, booming through the city like miniature cannons. the only unpredictable thing of all this, is the show. pop, a red firework. pop, a green one. pop, pop, sizzle. this one, a cluster of both.

boom. 

the familiar crust of a hill climbs up ellie’s throat and it’s an act of strength to swallow it all down. “wow,” she hears you remark, completely airless, a loopy grin stretching across your lips. “that’s so pretty.”

ellie nods, damning the fireworks and instead only looking at you. “yeah..” ellie swallows, again, hearing the croak that lines her own voice. “well, you’re pretty, too.”

there’s a silence that hangs, like your eyes, onto hers. and then it’s broken -- shattered not by combustion, but by a giggle turned spitting cackle, tumbling uncontrollably from your lips.

ellie’s furrows her eyebrows, “are you.. are you okay?” and starts laughing with you, only half-nervous, but like–

sizzle, sizzle,

“no.. no.. well– like yeah. like, no, yeah i’m just..” you lick your lips, close your eyes,

grin, and shake your head,

“i’m just really glad that you’re my friend.” 

boom.

the firework burns and dies in the iris of ellie’s eye, and brings with it ellie’s reminder to blink. or to do anything, really.

ellie has a tendency of falling in love with girls who are completely different from her. who want different things, and go at different paces,

who are her best friends.

she smiles. tight.

“yeah..” ellie concludes. “yeah, me too.”

she holds your hand on top of her lap, and halfheartedly thumbs over your knuckles. she lets you slot your fingers into hers, the same as you always do. and she squeezes, like normal. lets you rest your head on her shoulder, and rests her forehead atop of yours, like usual.

pop. pop. pop.

this year, she chalks her excuse up to.. loitering in opportunity. wading in questions she knows the answer to.

sizzle. sizzle. sizzle.

maybe, she’ll try again next summer. 

pop,

or maybe, it’s better that she doesn’t.

sizzle.

[chemicalarospec]

On my birthday my roommate (11 months younger) asked me if I had any Old Person Wisdom to share. It was kind of late and I was tired so I thought for a few minutes, and then I very slowly, picking each word deliberately as I went along, and with great gravitas said, "Care more about your intellectual development than gay people."

So I'm trying to take my own advice in deciding not to watch an episode of Hannibal tonight. Painful as it is, 20 minutes of readings and 20 of sleep will be a better use of the time.