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bf!peter maximoff x gn!reader 🍵 ‼️: 0.3k words. fluff. bantering. kisses! a/n: sorry ik that this is short because this was just a random thought hehe

Your boyfriend, Peter Maximoff has an habit that you could not quite figure out. You don’t know if he is obsessed with your chapstick or your lips. Well, maybe both. Since every time you re-apply your chapstick, he’ll appear out of nowhere and steal a kiss. Then he’ll grin at you like he just won the lottery.

Right now, you and Peter are about to go out. You just finished applying your chapstick. Suddenly the next thing you knew is that Peter appeared beside you in a silver blur. “Looking delicious, babe.” he comments. “I call first taste!” Before you can even protest, he cups your cheek and steals a quick kiss. 

“Peter..” you try to scold him but a flustered chuckle escapes your lips instead. A wide grin appears on his lips as he finds your reaction adorable. He looooves kissing your lips every time you’ve just applied your chapstick and also because knows that you couldn’t be mad at a kiss. 

“What?? It’s delicious.” he teases you, wiggling his eyebrows. “my lips or my chapstick?” you teased him back. “Oh? That’s a trick question. I’m gonna need another taste to make a very truthful response.” with that, he starts to lean in to get another kiss. “You’re full of excuses.” You call him out playfully.

“C’mon,” he laughs, reaching for your waist. “Love you babe, just two or three more kisses. Speedsters burn calories faster. I need another kiss for energy.” That’s definitely not only gonna be two or three more kisses. That’s gonna turn to a makeout session again. 

But damn you love it. You love Peter devouring your lips and showering you with this much affection and attention. This new chapstick tube you just bought is not gonna last long again. They never do if Peter’s around when you reapply it. Still, it was worth it for all the kisses Peter gave you.

likes/reblogs/comments are very much appreciated! 🫶

It's been ages since I drew him, anyways here he is yall

(Honestly the second fnaf movie was ahh but Freddy Carter as Michael was something else)

June 2026 - october 2024

— ᨳଓ .

secretly listens to all the girly pop music, but would NEVER admit it to anyone. just know he’s definitely belting it out in the shower trust me

orders chicken tenders and fries at every single restaurant, no matter what it is

is not an early bird OR a night owl, just sleepy. will fall asleep by 10:00pm yet still not roll out of bed until noon the next “morning”

cheats in every single board game he has ever played, but will absolutely lose his shit if anyone else so much as THINKS about cheating. because of this he is no longer allowed to play monopoly at pack nights. he is no longer allowed to play any board game with theo

loves to watch the absolute scariest movies/documentaries/found footage/youtube videos he can find at sleepovers with mason and make fun of all of it, even though they’re both terrified and definitely positively having the craziest nightmares tonight

was really obsessed with superheroes as a kid and dressed up as captain america for halloween 3 years in a row. still wary of anyone who is proudly team iron man

has quite literally every single mobile game under the sun downloaded onto his phone: “watcha doing liam? you’ve been on that thing for hours.” “sorting colored liquids. i’m on level 462!” “…okay”

before he was a werewolf he was the most dramatic person on the planet when he got sick. a slight cold? begging his parents to let him miss 3 days of school. a stomach ache? “mason i’m dying.”

actually super smart and could easily have all A’s if he tried, he just doesn’t care about school

No same, and always. But I don't know why I'm suddenly shy to write some pure smut on the internet but I'm gonna fight through it, for the fans. lol. If you're not into cockwarming, skip it. I'll put it below the cut.

based on this ask because I live and breathe pervy Frank - MDNI, 18+ below 🙃

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Frank Castle who feels addicted to the way you say his name, the way you coo at him in your sweet voice when you call him “Frankie”. You make him feel so wrong when you call him over, always for the most innocent reasons “Frankie can you come here a sec?” You’ll call out to him so sweetly and all he can think about is the way you sound when he has you calling that same name again and again, a little more breathy and much more desperate “yes Frankie right there, so good baby please don’t stop” with your feet dangling off his shoulders. And how he wants to hear it over and over again.

He's a boob man. OF COURSE HE LOVES YOUR ASS TOO. Don't be silly. But your tits? He is bbuuuuttteerrrr. An inch more cleavage than normal and he's semi-hard in the booth of the restaurant and feeling shameful. He. cannot. help. it. They are magnificent and every time he cups them in his rough hands he lets out that rumble in the back of his throat because they're always softer and warmer than he remembers.

He's a munch. Sorry but duh. This is his pure dom instincts on display. Having you be GOO because of his mouth alone -- before he's even inside you -- DELIGHTS HIM. He smiles as he's tucked between your thighs. He relishes in it. He takes his time. He admires his work. He ignores his needs. He gets slow and playful. He's in it for the love of the game. Don't stop him before he's had his fill.

He doesn't really do "toys". He considers it cheating. Because what he's doing with you is WORK for him. Yes, he's in it for the pleasure too but first and foremost there's duty. You have a need and Frank has a solution. Frank is nothing if not a hard worker, a good soldier. He's doesn't need the help and he knows it.

He wants you naked. Lingerie looks nice and all -- he's never gonna turn down the chance to see you in it. But it ALWAYS gets removed almost immediately. Frank is part animal and his brain needs to see every inch and curve and fold and quiver. He needs you unencumbered. He's cranky as he fiddles impatiently with a bow or a snap, saying "Fuckin' thing is in my way sweetheart."

He needs to see it in you. Him. His work. His effort. He needs to see how it spreads you and fills you. His eyes get locked on the way you take him -- marveling at how you manage to fit him and how much you trusted him to keep it from hurting. He takes it deadly serious. And when he's done, he lets himself the indulgence to watch it drip from you. It's fast enough that you don't notice but he never misses a time, feeling as territorial as a bear over you for the few hours after.

He likes it in the morning. Damn does he love it when you're sleepy and warm and relaxed. It gives him a chance to take his time and sink to his knees and lap you up. And then slide behind you and drape your leg over his hip to take you from behind when you feel extra tight around him. He shushes you to keep your eyes closed. Rest. Let him do the work-- he's been awake for hours anyway. He works until your walls choke him and you whimper and then he kisses your shoulder and tells you what a good girl you are today.

Can I request Frank with spoiled reader but instead she’s really sweet? Like the whole “spoiled but never rotten” thing?

grrrr i love him!! i love writing 4 this fine ass man so much i truly am still single cuz i just look at a man and go….but he’s not jon bernthal!!

Frank Castle who spoils his sweet girl to no end

Frank takes offense when people call you spoiled. You aren’t, he’ll argue, it’s what a good woman like yourself deserves. He hates it even more when you’re the one to say so.

He’ll bring you flowers home, smiling to himself just at the thought of your face brightening from such a small thing before he can round the corner to where you eat a snack in the kitchen.

“Frank?” You call out, hearing the door shut and the sound of his big boots being torn off. He puts them on the rack, because you asked once after he accidentally left them on the floor, and you’ve never had to ask him the same thing twice. The loose hinged cabinet? Tightened right up. The painting you wanted hung up? On the wall when you come back home from work. The laundry needs to be switched over and you have to leave? He’s got a timer on his phone.

But you aren’t spoiled, he claims, while he ties your shoes because you asked so nicely gleaming up at him with those sweet eyes. You didn’t want to bend over, how could he say no to his sweet baby? He just knows how to treat a woman right, and you say please and thank you all nice. He gets kisses on the cheek, too, often accompanied by a drawn out hug where you wrap yourself around him as tightly as possible.

“Yeah, s’me, baby,” He finally turns into the kitchen with a grin over his face, finding you sitting on the counter attempting to peel an orange. You see the flowers in his hand and your head falls back against the cabinet he fixed last week.

“Frank,” You scold softly, like there isn’t a grin growing on your face to match his. You take the flowers from him when he’s close enough, tilting forward into him. “Thank you.”

See. Not spoiled. A spoiled girl wouldn’t say thank you, especially not like that. Like it’s the nicest thing in the world, a fifteen buck bouquet of flowers from the grocery store.

“S’nothing,” Frank kisses your head, smiling down at you before letting his hand tangle over yours at the stems of the flowers. “Here, lemme see,”

You let him take them with no hesitation and then watch as he ducks to get one of the vases you keep under the counter.

“Frank,” You try again when he starts to fill it with water.

“What, sweetheart?” It’s always sweetheart from Frank. Always. Since the first day you met him, blushing all pretty and apologizing so sweetly for bumping into the booth he sat in. He’d grinned up at you, placing his mug full of black coffee back down on the diners table. Don’t worry ‘bout it, sweetheart, he’d said, little thing like you not hurtin’ nothin’, and you’d only gotten more bashful.

“I can do that, y’know,” Your legs kick against the counter. Frank scoffs, like the idea is unimaginable while he places the filled vase next to you.

“You want me to bring my girl flowers home and make her do the work with ‘em? Kinda man you think I am?” He cuts the stems, sprinkles the weird powder stuff into the water and places them in the pretty vase, the one he brought home with the first bunch of flowers he’d ever gotten you. What if you didn’t have one already? He couldn’t bear the thought of you having to go buy something because of him, even if it’s because of a gift.

“Thank you, Frankie,” Your swinging legs reach out to tap his thighs. He grabs your feet, hands trailing from the pedicured toes he paid for (like he does every month) up to your thighs. “They’re beautiful.”

“Always, sweetheart.” Frank cups your face, kissing your forehead. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones before he lets go and takes the orange from your hands. “Lemme see that,”

“Frank!”

“What?” He’s peeling your fucking orange for you, and is offended that you think it’s ridiculous.

“This—“ You cut yourself off with a stammer. “You spoil me too much.”

Franks eyebrows furrow, head jerking back like you’d tried to reach out and slap him, and he’s immediately pouting at your words.

“Kinda nonsense you talking about? No I don’t.” He holds a slice up to your mouth. It had all of the gross stringy bits peeled away, because of course Frank knows you hate that part.

Your eyebrows raise as you give him your best oh-really-now look. Says the man who buys you flowers just because and fixes your appliances after one ask and feeds you oranges he already peeled and will be making you dinner in an hour. Says the man who lets you sleep in everyday and fills your gas tank and pays for your nails and hair appointments and the groceries and every dinner date. Says the man who ties your shoes and hangs your wall decor. Says the man who kisses the ground you walk on and draws a minimum of two orgasms from you daily.