Love Love Love It So Far 😍🫶🏽

omg this is incredibly adorable. LOVE‼️‼️

✦ CITY OF STARS.

summary : peter swings you to a perfect late-night date.

word count : 0,6k

warnings : tooth rotting fluff, implied fem!reader, pet names, kisses.

a/n : inspired by this deleted scene!! requests for peter are open if u want to send in ur ideas / prompts ^_^ also kind of inspired by that one scene in atsv where gwen & miles hangout by that tower yk

"let's get out of here." peter whispers, his voice tickles your skin again as he places another kiss on your nose.

you sigh, cupping his cheek, "i can't peter, i told you." you repeat — which not surprisingly causes peter to pout. "why not?"

"because. i have.. homework." you shrug. it's true though, the pile of papers near your desk is practically calling you to be read or marked.

he pouts, again. but he isn't giving up.

"don't look at me like that." you chuckle, your thumb caressing peter's cheek, running through his freckles.

"like what?"

"with your big brown doe eyes."

peter tries a bit more. the more you make eye contact with him, the harder it is to say no.

"fine. but you seriously have to get blue contacts, peter." you let go of his cheek.

"yes, ma'am." he nods. you couldn't tell if he's joking or not, but it's funny either way.

he gets up and grabs his backpack, it seems heavier than usual. "grab your jacket, bub. it's gonna be cold."

"where are you taking me?"

"secret."

"that doesn't sound creepy at all."

"come on. trust me." peter's waiting near the window. "are you gonna take me on a swing?"

peter puts his beanie on. "does the hat give it away?" he asks, the spiderman crochet beanie in bright red staring right at you.

you smile. "yeah it kinda does."

peter tucks the loose hair behind your ear before helping you out the window, and before you know it you're one with the wind. and also with new york's pollution.

peter's gentle, one hand holding your waist and the other thwip! -ing away at buildings. your hands are wrapped around his neck, face burried in the crook of it. you could smell his cologne, it's the one you like.

you relax at the scent of it. it almost makes you forget that you're meters up in the air.

but then your shoes touch ground.

it was a ledge of a clock tower. it's not steep, it's actually very spacey up here. if you think about it you could probably fit a picnic up here, a small hangout even with a few friends.

"you good?" peter lets go, "yeah. this is cozy." you say, fixing your sweater. "don't you think people will see us here?" you ask.

"no. but. if they do-" peter opens his bag, "i got back up." he reveals a beanie, like the one he's wearing, it's a spiderman one too but with different colours.

it's white with pink outlines.

"we're matching!" peter puts the beanie on you. it fits perfectly, "that's so cute peter. do i get to keep it?" — "of course. made it just for you. besides i don't think people can spot us here unless they really, really, really squint. and now when they do, they'll just see our hats."

you nod. peter gestures for you to sit.

"i got more stuff." he smiles, teeth showing, teasingly.

you roll your eyes at him before sitting next to the empty space beside him.

he pulls out two takeout boxes, followed by the plastic eating utensils, and some water, and some more.

"oh. wow." you say, impressed.

you weren't kidding. you could fit a picnic here.

"what're you waiting for? dig in!" peter passes your takeout. "i got your favorite too."

"aw. thank you, peter." you give him a kiss. "i'll get you ice cream after this. or whenever you feel like ice cream." you give him another kiss.

"thank you!" he gasps, dramatically. "that is everything i have ever wanted." peter replies.

you smile, "this is everything i have ever wanted."

this is so beautiful that i cant even find the words to describe this!! im mesmerised 🫠🫠

@privateanxieties

would you, maybe?

Summary: Peter really, really wants his vampire girlfriend to bite him. He finds out it’s more than just a sex thing.

Pairing: tasm!Peter x vampire!Reader (she/her); 18+ mature, smut, established relationship, possessiveness, dirty talk, blood sharing; there is a kink here but I don’t know what to call it. If anyone knows, please share with the class.

Words: 7.2K

——————————–

He’s tried everything except asking.

The idea got lodged in his head weeks ago, in the most innocent way possible - a hug. She’d just come back from visiting her family overseas and hadn’t fed while there. Her parents weren’t especially fond of her peculiar dietary choices. Namely, they thought drinking from the tap was far superior to the bottled nonsense from which their daughter got sustenance. She didn’t like feeding off of humans, even the willing ones that supplied her relatives with blood in exchange for the pure thrill of it. Some people were freaky, she explained, and they simply enjoyed feeling like they were a part of something special. He bought half the explanation. From the way her eyes were avoiding his, he guessed there must’ve been more to the story. In any case, she’d said she wasn’t fond of drinking straight from the vein and he took her word for it. For that reason, part of him was unsure about what he wanted to ask; but there was another part too - one that had taken in a sight he couldn’t forget.

Upon her return, he’d pulled her into the bone-crushing hug that he’d always craved but could never have, because minding his strength always came first. Vampires, he’d come to learn, were pretty durable. And he was glad that was the case for many reasons, but of course, his mind immediately went to other potential applications of that durability.

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so sexy

drummer!steve rogers’ instagram.

commissions :)

i just love love @earth2bucky’s writing 😭😭

it’s so beautiful and i was always find myself binge reading her masterlist.

angel - bucky x reader

a/n: lisTEN im working on three requests rn and i needed a break so this is the result

word count: <1k

summary: bucky coming to terms with just how much he loves needs you (also ur first kiss aw !!!)

Keep reading

the representation + characterisation of yelena in this fic >>>>

for your blurb night, "in case you ever foolishly forget, i am never not thinking of you" with yelena? 🤍

miss luiza, my love, my fellow yel simp, i hope i did this a justice for you, i changed the dialogue a little bit to make it more fluffy <3

sweet in your memory.

pairing: yelena belova x (f)reader

word count: 986

warnings: badly written fluff, weed smoking, nat is alive and well, mention of a past hookup, kissing, slight miscommunication, carol and valkyrie quickly mentioned. 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

The blissful dazed high of the blunt that's pressed to your lips as you take a long inhale, swallow, let it out slowly—is doing the exact opposite of just that. The bliss part getting snuffed out by the nerves that make your stomach sink each time Yelena looks over at you, gives you that lopsided grin; when your fingers brush against each others for the half second when you’re passing the blunt between the two of you, turning that dazed high into hyperawareness. 

The two of you are sat on the fire escape, the sounds of the city and people venturing out late into the summer heat present below you—and the music and laughs of Nat and the rest of the girls from inside flowing through the window. 

But all you can hear, all you see, smell, feel, is Yelena beside you. The weed only adding to the torture of nerves in your belly and the unasked questions fumbling around in your head. 

Your eyes glance over to her, her perched on the window sill, one leg bent at the knee on the frame, the other on the fire escape. The street lights painting her features in a dull orange that makes her even more beautiful. 

You try not to stare at the way her lips wrap around the blunt, or how attractive it looks held between her ringed fingers. Because when she catches you staring it only makes a heat flood your cheeks and a cheeky smirk form across her face, you quickly look away as you try to hide your smile with a cough to the back of your hand. 

The two of you hadn't spoken about what happened a week ago—it seeming more like months ago by how it had left you feeling; confused, flying high, utterly crushing on the woman beside you. 

It's not like you never had the chance to ask her what everything meant, the glances, the smiles, the hand touches, the pecks to the cheek, in the wake of what had happened. But maybe it was the memory of her lips on yours-and other parts of you—the night that the two of you having spent together living like a ghost on your skin; constantly haunting you, yet you were too afraid to exorcize it, to ask it what it wanted. 

And it wasn't Yelena who was stopping you from asking, it wasn't how she was acting-she hadn't changed, she was still the same, still flirtatious and constantly giving you signs that it had meant something, but what you didn't know. And part of you had hoped maybe she would bring it up, because your nerves were pussing out, and you didn't think you could go another week without knowing, without holding yourself back from reaching out and feeling her lips again.

Without staring at her like a lost love sick puppy. 

You had hoped the weed would have helped give you the courage, but now you know it had only made you more of that love sick puppy for her. A rose colored shein over your eyes each time you would steal a glance at her, smelled her strong perfume, heard her laugh at whatever was going on in the apartment-or from how awkward you were being. 

After taking one more puff of the blunt, handing it to Yelena, holding your breath for a second, a minute, three, you finally think fuck it, and go for it, “Yel,” you start, no hint of bravery in your voice whatsoever. When you turn towards her after her hum of acknowledgment, your mouth feels incredibly dry. Your throat itchy. “About…what happened, the other night.” You swallow, try to ignore the corner of her mouth pulling up slightly, amused. “Do you, uh, ever think about it?” 

And now you know for sure the weed was a bad idea, it turning you into a speechless fool. Asking her the question that wasn't even on the tip of your tongue, your mind and mouth on different wavelengths; but both keening for this woman. 

“Do I think about it?” Her accent is deeper when she's been smoking, when amusement is laced in her tone. Her grin growing, the heat in your cheeks feeling like an all out forest fire. 

Before you can nod, or open your mouth to say something—elaborate, stop looking like a deer in headlights—Nat is poking her head through the window, pushing Yelena’s leg out of the way in the process. 

“If you two love birds are done, the pizza’s here.” She gives Yelena a wink and then she’s back inside the apartment. 

Yelena puts out the remaining of the blunt on the windowsill, throwing it in the can specifically put out there for such discarding's. “We better go before Carol and Val fight over the pepperoni.” She smiles, the awkward conversation between the two of you pushed away—your chest only deflating a little (a lot). 

You expect her to pull herself through the window but instead she’s stepping out onto the fire escape, reaching her hand out for you to take to help you to your feet. The weed finally hitting you with that daze now that you’re standing this close to her, now that her palms are cupping your cheeks, the warm metal of her rings searing your skin, as she presses a soft kiss to your lips. 

Her lips smiling against yours when you let out an elongated sigh, when she pulls away that rose colored haze has gone completely red—with love, with other heated things—making a shy chuckle escape you. 

“For the record, in case you are ever foolishly wondering, or forget, I am never not thinking of you.” She presses another kiss to your lips, “or that night.” Her hands fall from your cheeks, “it’s actually highly annoying how much I think about it. Of you, very distracting.” the both of you laugh, fingers finding the others to hold.

YES.

illicit affairs - natasha romanoff

Summary: your girlfriend makes you happy, but natasha makes you horny.

Warnings: cheating, powerbottom!nat, spanking (nat receiving), strap-on use (nat receiving), face sitting, oral (r giving), swearing, smut 18+ only

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: smh i guess r lost focus also this fic has potential to be turned into a series i just don’t know if I’m gonna commit to it.

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist

gif not mine

Natasha wasn’t an angel, but neither were you. 

She loved the thrill that the two of you could be found out at any time, that your girlfriend could come back early from work or call you or decide to surprise you. She hated your girlfriend. It wasn’t even that she was a bad person, Wanda took care of you and loved you and made you feel content. But god Natasha hated that she could have you, that she could hold your hand and kiss you in public.

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this so perfect. peter is so perfect. @literaila is so perfect. i have no words.

i’ll tell you in the morning

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

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

“the couch would never betray me.”

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

*

“you’re supposed to be in bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“the couch would never betray me.”

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

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

“you can’t sleep here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i know.”

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

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

“i wanted to fall asleep with you.”

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

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

“you could’ve called.”

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

“not to me.”

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

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

“no, you threatened to tell my mom—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i learned from the best.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“like you can sleep without me.”

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

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

when you grin he nods, very satisfied with himself.

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

“hurry. i’m tired.”

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

you laugh. “where did you get those?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re so needy.”

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

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

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

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

“what was it about?”

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

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

and you fall asleep; hands clutching the others heart.

*

"can i kiss you?" vi asks, close enough that her lips are a mere inch away from yours. the scent of alcohol hits your nose, hitting you with a little piece of reality that nearly winds you.

you swallow, looking at vi through your lashes, and try not to fall into this trap. because that's what this is; a trap geared towards your downfall.

but vi's staring at you, her gaze so sweet with how disarming her puppy dog eyes are. it breaks you down from the inside and deconstructs you until you're only pieces of yourself. but you have to hold it together because you can't do this; you can't be involved in this.

"vi," you murmur, moving back a little so you can breathe. "you can't. it won't—it's not fair."

"...i know," vi whispers, after a brief moment, and closes her eyes. then she's closing the gap between you two, but only so she can rest her forehead against yours. "i know."

tears burn behind your eyes and sit tight in your throat, your hands curled into fists at your sides.

but you say nothing and simply allow both of you to exist in whatever piece of time this is.

A List of Prompts

because yeah i think it would be helpful if there was a comprehensive list of those, so

ANGST. want to cry? here's some onion for you.

fighting/intense

someone is injured

protective

reluctant allies

shedding a tear

secret relationship--getting caught and confronted

enemies to lovers

corruption arc

sentence starters

forbidden love

101 ways to break the characters (and readers) heart

broken trust

hit em where it hurts

for the damaged

short angst sentence starters

soft angst sentence starters

high pain tolerance

dark and angsty sentence starters

from the villain

SMUT / NSFW. having horny thoughts? endulge.

action prompts

subtle intimacy

sexual tension

kissing starters

smut dialogue prompts

sfw friends with benefits

types of kisses

soft dirty talk sentence starters

consent is sexy

spicy actions

subtle smut sentence starters

nonverbal sexual situations

bdsm and dom/sub prompts

build the tension

love and leashes

FLUFF. for when your heart needs healing.

simple actions.

forehead touches.

things done while spooning

things done while dancing

oblivious idiots in love

idiots in love

dancing prompts

dialogue prompts

simple touches

casual affections

soft and sweet sentence starters

types of hugs

comforting

domestic intimacy

comforting actions

soft touches

BITTERSWEET. for those who like to hurt and then soothed.

reassuring your lover

reassuring your lover pt. 2

sacred moments

hurt/comfort prompts.

hero x villain prompts

lovers in denial

comforting a lover after a nightmare

grumpy x sunshine

enemies with benefits

noticing trauma

all about the yearning

found family

nightmares and sleeping

reassuring

reunion after (physical) trauma

possessive/territorial

for the heavy hearted

enemies to lovers

hero x villain sentence starters

dissociation starters

intervention

enemies to lovers and lovers to enemies

pls the way i smiled whilst reading this 🥺😫

and the way it’s written!!

so good <3

Sleepy kisses in the morning with Bucky plsssss 🥰🥰🥰

sleepy

bucky x f!reader

wc: drabble! 665

a/n: why are drabbles so fun!!! reminding me i'm so alone lmao

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.

Bucky has always been an early riser. Always.

It's ingrained in his bones– wake when the sun does, sometimes, rest when the sun does.

Until you, he never knew time could be a friend. Not someone to fear constantly looming over his shoulder. The sun wasn’t as cruel as he once revered it, his bones can breathe. Bucky sleeps now– sometimes, later than you. The sun be damned.

Watching him sleep was one of life’s little heavens. The once labored breaths that carried him through so much torment eased, gently warming the insides of his lungs and exhaling to tickle the skin of your neck. His eyelashes twitched faintly, caressing the flush of his high cheekbones as if the sunlight filtering through the curtains was made for him.

And those lips– perfectly pouted, pink, plump, precious– taunted you so cruelly. The sun teasing his skin peeking out of the sheets was always followed promptly by the pads of your fingers trailing his body. Now is no exception, dusting along the black and gold garnishing his bicep, ghosting over relaxed pecs. Your hand travels, tracing along the stubble of his jaw, feather-soft up to outline his mouth.

There is hardly a sight prettier than your sleeping super soldier coming alive at the delicate exploring of your fingertips. As much as you love him in the bliss of his slumber, it was torture knowing what a slowly rousing Bucky meant.

It isn’t until your lips meet the warm skin of his throat that he surrenders to the promises lingering in the morning air.

The black of his fingers slowly spread up your arm, goosebumps and a shiver answering his touch.

“Fivemo’minutes,” he grumbles. His eyes remain closed, but his body trembles in lieu of a slow-moving stretch, wrapping himself tighter around you and bringing your wandering hand to his lips.

Faint teases of the pillows of his lips pepper up your arm. “Jus’five, baby,” he mumbles dancing across your jaw, “w-wanna,” moving to the swell of your bottom lip, “...needa sleep,” he exhales against the corner of your slowly spreading smile, a low whine pressed one, two, three times, needily slanting his eager lips to yours.

You giggle against his mouth, hands carding gently through his short locks and scratching along his scalp, holding him close.

“Mmm. Don’t do tha– s’not fair, m’tryin to sleep baby,” time has also shown him: he’s a really terrible liar.

His body melts against you, sandalwood and warmth overwhelming your senses, his lips showing no sign of ever wanting to be anywhere else, doing anything else but tasting the beauty of another morning with his girl.

You pull away, much to his displeasure, a low moan echoing pitifully within his chest. He reaches for you, lips chasing after your evil little smirk he’d be greeted with if he just opened his eyes. “Oh, okay. M’sorry. Go back to sleep, fivemo'minutes, Bucky.”

One cerulean eye shoots open, a scowl meant to intimidate you mocks your chastising remark. Your eyebrow quirks up, lips curled into a grin that lets him know just how bad of a liar he is. Bucky attacks with a growl against your shoulder, his thick, chorded body pushing you onto your back as giggles and squeals light the room.

“Y’can’t do this to me,” his lips continue, caress after caress greedily melding against your own. And his eyes are open– sleepy, but open. The sun greets him like it always does. Twinkling, heavenly against the blue truths of his honest eyes watching you bathe in his love. “It’s Saturday, supposed to do nothin’ but sleep with my girl between my sheets,” his lips stop for a moment, sleep-ridden cheeks jutting out while smiling down so adoringly at you. Never stop. Thank you. Couldn’t want somethin' any more, five minutes is never enough.

Your fingers tangle within the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him close. Your lips meet his. His eyes flutter closed. A relieved groan leaves his body.

The sun watches.