odie

odessa / xxiii / big fan of a lot of things!!! i write :) i will take requests for literally anything

[odiewrites]

get to know me!

hi!! im odessa :) im a sag sun, pisces moon, and taurus rising. whats yours??

im new here and love writing, i have my whole life :) i mostly write for the mcu and for music groups such as the beatles and my chemical romance. i love to make new friends, please hmu! lets talk (please) #stoptreatingthislikeajobapplication 

I have a tendency of writing mini essays on my writing and character justification and stuff LMAOASOCN (just to make myself feel better ab my writing cue the melancholy emoji idk where its at). If anybody wants me to post them pls lmk!! Likeeee heres an example theyre so chaotic help 

This is for my blurb, “Bingo Boy” → 

an exercise examining peter's character after nwh

i thought he would be much harder (not dick-wise, although that does come in later (did you catch that)) in terms of personality, like, more closed-off yet still receptive and sweet like he always was portrayed, bc like that's who he IS!!! it was interesting the potential shift in his sexuality as a canonically older - and therefore more cold - characterr NOT to sound too pretentious omg i just could write an essay about the pure humanity in tom holland's portrayal of this character like the way he convey grief and OK BYE ENJOYS SMUT buttt like if this was a psychologically accurate portrayal (maybe?) OK BYE

[odiewrites]

bingo boy | p. parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

word count: 650

warnings: smut

summary: the lampposts at central park usually brandished some whack-ass ads, but when your eyes caught the colourful, psychedelic flyer of some hippie-themed bingo night at some local retirement home - boasting a loud, trippy '$500 prize' - you couldn't help but check it out. finding peter parker was also, most definitely, a big plus.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

When you saw a curly brown mop of hair dulling the shimmering sea of white heads, you were simply just grateful to be able to interact with another person your age. It was not normal for twenty-two year olds to seek company with the retirement home bingo-players wearing Flower Power tunics. Yet as he passed out blank bingo cards, he had sweetly informed you of his name. And due to the fact that he wore a denim collared shirt and jeans that boasted a grotesquely nice physique, you asked him what he was doing there (and because he looked like he should have been ninja-fighting, or something). 

Thus, Hippie Bingo - and Peter Parker - was deemed not that bad; and the initially lonesome escapade proved worth it, and not because you had won (you had not), but because Peter had asked you if you would like to come to coffee after bingo. Two months later, clothes were strewn out beside you as you laid beside Peter on his new couch. Still overwhelmed by your orgasm, the cyclone of opened and unopened boxes he still needed to unpack and organize swirled in your vision. 

“Y/N?” Peter asked. He kneeled beneath you, your legs hitched over his shoulders. His lip quirked and you felt butterflies. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m great,” you said quickly, wheezing. 

Peter laughed, and then promptly, eyes gleaming with mischief, licked your dripping core—again. You stroked his hair and sighed, smiling lazily as you sank back into the couch, stroking his hair. 

He hummed as cars bustled and beeped outside of Peter’s open window, and you swore—the heat exhausted from all those billboards and sheer amount of sweaty bodies added an extra ten degrees to the room. Brown usually curled in wavy rivulets around his iris, but now, they were darkened, and watching you every time you sighed. 

“Can you give me one more?” he asked, coyly. 

You could not believe that Bingo Boy was so unaware of the fact that he was hot. 

“Who even are you, Peter Parker?” you asked with a breathless laugh. Peter’s bright yet bleary face smiled as he slowed his ministrations, pulsing his lips around your bud. Before you could conceptualize the sensation of his wet tongue lapping you up so delicately, he traced you with two fingers, teasing. You shivered and he squeezed your thigh. 

“Do you like it when I do that?” he asked. 

You bit your lip and hummed in agreement, wiping his sticky hair from his forehead. He looked up at you through his lashes. Then, he dipped his fingers in and out of you, not entering entirely, and you nearly burst with euphoria. 

“Peter,” you said, feverishly—and before you could think of anything else to say, the music he had played on his record came to a crescendo, his eyes were fully closed, and he was devouring you. Gasping, you threw your head back, and Peter, ever-so-perceptive, took notice of your arousal and reached up to play with your nipple. His fingertips gleamed with the faint mint of your sheer lace bra as you glanced downwards and it was too much: the sight of Bingo Boy, your tits pearling in his hands, chest heaving like it was not yours—again, July in New York City was never extraordinarily hot, but Peter made you feel like you were going to pass out. You moaned loudly, squirming, pinned beneath his biceps. Unable to steady yourself, you held on tightly to his shoulders, nails digging into his freckled skin. 

Peter spat on your pussy and smeared it around with his finger and you blacked out. Pulling his hair so hard Peter grunted, you rattingly gasped, “I’m gonna cum.” 

“That’s it,” he soothed, gently rubbing your core as you writhed. He kissed a trail from your inner thighs to your pubic bone as you closed your eyes, completely fucked-out, all over again. 

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

author's note:

i hope you enjoyed! there is literally so many more where this came from. i have so much i cant wait to share :) please give me feedback or requests!! (i also have plans for this to be a series depending on how its recieved!! bye bye love ya!