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anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount · 2 years

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I Lost My Phone! (Avengers x Reader)

So due to all of the birthday posts celebrating Steve, I realized that on my school-induced Tumblr hiatus, I missed a shit-ton of birthdays between Bucky’s and Steve’s. So there’s gonna be a ton of birthday posts coming for the MCU characters that I can find birthdays for. In the meantime, enjoy this fic that’s taken me months to write and find inspiration for.

Warnings: slight Sam x Reader, my taste in music (that deserves its own warning any day), reader being called just about every nickname I could think of, swearing.

Word Count: 3950

Summary: Reader’s ADHD causes her to lose her phone a lot, when the Avengers find out she has specialized ringtones for all of them, they’re obsessed with finding out what they all are.

For an Avenger, you were actually pretty young. You were older than Peter, but still younger than Wanda and Pietro. You were close with all three of them, and you all loved to make references that confused the fuck out of everyone else. You also had ADHD, which meant lots of things. For you, it meant that something specific, like a bobby pin from 3 years ago, was fresh in your mind. Your top left desk drawer, underneath the colouring books, to be exact. But, you were always fidgeting with something; your ring, a pen, tapping your fingers, and literally anything you could get your hands on. You spaced out a lot, so you would fidget with a pen during meetings so you could actually pay attention. Also, you had this terrible habit of losing everything that wasn’t specific; your phone, wallet, keys were left everywhere around the compound.

You were sitting in the lab one day, fidgeting with a brain puzzle Tony had left on his lab bench while he was upgrading something into your suit. “Kiddo?” He asked, “Peter just texted me that he texted you hours ago and you still haven’t responded. He wants to know if you’re mad at him, and if you’re still on for that late lunch picnic.”

“Oh, would you let him know that I’m not mad at him and that I’ll get all the stuff for the picnic if he’s willing to swing us to where we’re going?” You responded.

“Sure, I can do that,” Tony replied, drafting his response to Peter. “Why haven’t you responded to him?”

You laughed. “I have no idea where my phone is, Mr. Stark. I haven’t seen it in hours, and I have no clue where I left it.”

Tony laughed too, having done the same thing many times over the years, though you did it far more often than he ever did. “I’ll just call you then, it’ll help. Unless your phone’s on vibrate?”

“No, it’s not on vibr- wait, don’t call me!” You exclaimed, but it was too late. Who’s Your Daddy by Toby Keith started playing from upstairs, and you ran up to the kitchen where you found your phone ringing on the counter.

Clint and Natasha were sitting at the counter, drinking yet another coffee. “Why is that your ringtone for Tony?” She asked.

“I, uh- it’s- I-” You stumbled over your words, turning your phone off, blushing as Tony came up the stairs behind you.

“Why is that your ringtone for me, kiddo?” He asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You could easily escape if you wanted to, but it was his way of letting you know that he actually wanted an answer.

“My dad was shitty, my parents sold me into HYDRA as soon as my powers manifested, and when you guys got me out.. I just kinda.. y’know.” You said, hiding your head in your hands.

Clint rubbed your arm softly, “Hey, don’t forget about that picnic with Peter.”

“Oh, shit! He’ll be here any minute! I have to pack the food!” You scrambled around the kitchen, your gravitational powers making everything around you float as you did, and you didn’t even notice Tony slip your phone into your back pocket, just so you wouldn’t forget it again.

There was a knock in the kitchen doorway, and you turned to see Peter. “Y/N/N!”

“Peter!” You ran over to wrap him in a hug.

“You didn’t have your phone, did you?”

“Had no idea where it was. Mr. Stark had to call me.” You said, nuzzling into his chest.

Peter chuckled, “So I guess they know what your ringtone is now?” You blushed and pressed yourself further into his chest, wanting to disappear. “Do they know what it is for me?” He asked. You shook your head and tried to stop him from pulling his phone out, but he called you anyways.

You grabbed his hand and started leaving with the food as the Spiderman theme song started playing in your pocket. You turned it off and called behind you. “Goodbye Mr. Barton, Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Dad!”

“What did she just say?” You heard Tony ask as the doors shut behind the both of you.

“What did I do?” You asked while Peter was swinging you to a spot you had deemed as the ‘Kids Room’. Only Peter, Wanda, Pietro, and you were allowed in, and it was just a treehouse that Tony had built in the woods that surrounded the Compound. But it was fun not letting any of the other Avengers in.

“You called Mr. Stark something you probably didn’t mean to.”

“Peter, what did I say?”

“You called him ‘Mr. Dad.’” Peter explained, you groaned, hiding your face in his neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time you couldn’t find your phone was actually the next day in the gym. Tony had designed you special wireless headphones that would work up to a mile away from your actual phone. Meaning that your phone could be anywhere in the Compound, and while listening to your music, you would have no idea. You had come back last night from your outing with Peter, and got him to swing you directly up to your bedroom so you didn’t have to run into anyone else, before kissing his cheek and telling him good night. You didn’t have feelings for him, it was just something you two always did.

“Captain Rogers!” You called from your place on top of the gymnastics bars, “Have you seen my phone anywhere? I can’t remember where I left it.”

Steve shook his head in response, “I’m sorry, kiddo, I haven’t. Do you want me to call it for you?” He asked, pulling his phone out already.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea- wait.” You dropped off the bars as soon as you heard the first bar of Ice Ice Baby. “Shit!” You exclaimed, running towards the noise.

“Language!” Steve called, following you. His super-soldier hearing was sure to hear what his ringtone was.

You pulled open the cabinet with the mugs, where you had left your phone this morning after pouring your coffee, and declined the call. “Thanks, Captain.” You muttered, walking off to take your post-training shower.

“I’m starting to think she does this on purpose,” Clint said, poking his head out of the vents.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked in response.

“Just yesterday Y/N forgot where her phone was while Peter was trying to get a hold of her, and Tony had to call her phone. It was sitting on the counter. At least she has a good sense of humour. I wonder what her ringtone is for me..” He wondered thoughtfully.

“What was her ringtone for Tony?” Steve always had more questions.

“Some country song called Who’s Your Daddy. Y/N evidently sees Stark as a father figure, she even called him Mr. Dad by accident yesterday as she was leaving for her picnic with Peter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only a few hours later when you couldn’t find your phone yet again. “I’m starting to wonder if someone’s just moving it when I’m not paying attention.” You said, patting your pockets as you walked into the kitchen where Clint was pouring yet another cup of coffee.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” He asked.

“I can’t find my phone, again!” You exclaimed. “It’s the second time today that it hasn’t been exactly where I thought it was!”

Clint chuckled, “Where did you think you left it this time?”

“My pocket.” You deadpanned, subtly looking behind him to see if he had hidden it from you so he could find out what his ringtone was.

“Should I call you?”

“I wouldn’t. I’ll find it in a few minutes, don’t worry about it.” It was at that moment that you heard Men in Tights from Robin Hood coming from in between the couch cushions.

You dove towards the couch, but Clint, being taller and stronger, beat you there. “Really? This is my ringtone?”

“Robin Hood’s an archer!” You defended yourself, reaching across him for your phone to turn it off.

Nat walked in at that moment, and started chuckling at the position the two of you were in. “So, sexual tension with people other than your wife, Barton?”

“Nat, he took my phone.” You whined, unable to reach it without physically climbing him.

“Clint, give Y/N her phone back. Y/N, stop getting mad that people are finding out what your ringtones for them are. You have an excellent sense of humor, and nobody has been mad about their ringtone yet.”

“You guys are keeping a list, aren’t you?” You grimaced.

Clint and Natasha both laughed, “And keeping track of who laughs at which one.” He added.

“Ouch.” You said softly, putting your phone back in your pocket and heading back into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

“Nobody’s really sure yet. What do you want?” Nat replied.

“If there’s one thing I learned from my missions with HYDRA, it was how to make a mean mac n’ cheese.” You said, pulling the ingredients out of the cupboards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, it was to someone banging on your door. “Y/N! Training! You’re late!”

You groaned, rolling towards the noise and off the edge of your bed. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, having hit your head on the nightstand.

Bucky rushed in, “Y/N, are you alright, doll?” He helped you sit up while you were holding the back of your head.

“I-” You hissed softly, “hit my head. It hurts, Sarge.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a pretty good gash there, kid. Why weren’t you already up?”

“I don’t know where my phone is, it never went off with my alarm. I always leave it plugged in right there.” You explained, pointing to your laptop, which was currently plugged in. “Huh, charged the laptop last night instead?”

“Let me call you, doll. And then we’ll get you down to Helen in the medbay to get you all fixed up, you’re bleeding.”

“Okay, that’s a good plan.” You started to say, “Wait, my ringt-” But it was too late, Rasputin was playing from somewhere under your bed.

Bucky laid down on his stomach to get it for you. “Nice choice, kid.” He said, passing your phone back to you before he picked you up bridal style. “Let’s get you to Helen.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were able to keep track of your phone for the next three days, but while reading on the couch you realized it had been hours since you had last seen it. “Ms. Romanoff?” You called, knowing she was sitting in the kitchen. “I haven’t seen my phone in hours, have you seen it anywhere?”

“Sorry, sweetie, I haven’t. I can call you?” She pulled her phone out, and as she did you remembered what your ringtone is for her.

“I wouldn’t do-” You started to say until you heard Black Widow by Iggy Azalea playing from the fridge. You stood up and walked over to it, opening the door. “What the fuck is my phone doing in there?”

“You must’ve traded your phone for a YOP drink.” Natasha said, ending the call from her end of the phone. “Hm, Barnes was right, you do have good taste in music.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Bruce you were always pretty good at keeping your phone handy, which was good, because you didn’t actually have a special ringtone for him, which you guessed made him special in his own right. You just could never think of a song that fit him well enough to be special enough for his ringtone. You spent a little extra time with Bruce to make up for it, plus you figured that whenever you moved your phone, he would make sure that he knew where it was so you wouldn’t lose it. You had a sneaking suspicion that Hulk liked you too, if the way you were able to calm him down was any indication.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was about a week after Natasha had helped you find your phone that you had lost it again. Thor and Loki were back, and while Loki often stayed on Asgard, since Thor insisted he was actually the better king, you enjoyed getting to spend time with both of them. They did both have phones now, since Tony had forced it upon them both last time they were on Earth, so you all would have a means of getting a hold of them, other than praying Heimdall would hear you. They both immediately came to you for help on understanding the Midgardian device. Similar to what Steve and Bucky did with their first phones too, actually.

You had been searching for the last 20 minutes, all over the Compound, and you couldn’t find your phone anywhere. It wasn’t anywhere in your room, your bathroom, you checked all the kitchen cupboards and the fridge, twice; and you had even checked all the furniture in the main living room where you and Loki had been quietly reading that morning after training. Nothing. Your phone was nowhere to be found. You had even poked your head into the lab while Tony and Bruce were gone to see if Peter had seen it. Still no. Your phone was gone. You were just going to have to get a new one and transfer over all of the data. You groaned, flopping down on the couch, data transfers take for-fucking-ever.

“Little angel?” Loki asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone, as per usual. I’m just gonna go get a new one and do a data transfer, which takes for-fucking-ever to load and it’s annoying as shit.” You flopped your head to look over at him on the other couch, pouting.

“Why don’t you just get someone to call your phone?” He asked. “I can do it if you’d like.”

You sighed, resigned to have left it somewhere stupid yet again. “I guess you’re my last option, Mischief.” Loki pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on your contact, calling you. bad guy by Billie Eilish started playing from down the hall, in the training room. You ran towards the noise, picking your phone up once you got there. “Now I remember! I didn’t have pockets in my workout clothes this morning, so I left my phone on the bench. I haven’t needed it, so I didn’t think twice about not having it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You also didn’t have a ringtone for Rhodey, but he was almost never around, and he never called you anyways. You only had his number in case of emergency, mostly for when Tony was stupidly drunk or if he was fighting with Steve and nobody could get them off of each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning after Loki had helped you find your phone, you couldn’t find it again. “Nope, I’m not gonna bother, it’ll show up in a few minutes.. or hours..” You mumbled, curling up on the couch with your book.

Three hours later, after finishing your book, going to training, taking a shower, making everyone lunch, and running some errands, you still hadn’t seen your phone anywhere. You retraced your steps throughout the day, pausing momentarily to ask Bruce if you had had it when you stopped in the lab this morning to ask Tony about an upgrade to your suit. Apparently not.

“Lady Y/N?” Thor asked, coming up behind you. “Are you feeling alright? You’ve been running back and forth across the compound looking like a- what’s the saying?”

“A chicken with my head cut off?” You asked, sighing.

“Yes, that’s it!” Thor exclaimed. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone, Thor. That’s all. I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere.”

Thor picked you up and put you on his shoulders. “If I called you, milady, would it help?”

“I suppose..” You told him, using your gravitational powers to float safely back to the ground. Thor pulled his phone out and you heard Thunder by Imagine Dragons playing from the lab downstairs. “But.. I didn’t have it when I was down here this morning? I guess I could’ve left it down here last night and since it’s the weekend none of my alarms would’ve gone off.”

“Oh, crap, Y/N, I am so sorry.” Bruce said, looking up from his computer. “I was cleaning up the lab this morning and I must’ve put some things on top of your phone and then Tony moved them, and-”

“Bruce, if I had really needed it, I would’ve gotten someone to call it for me sooner. My only missed call is from Thor. Trust me, it’s alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you couldn’t find your phone again right after dinner, you were starting to worry about yourself. I can’t possibly misplace it this often, you thought to yourself. Somebody has to be moving it when I’m not paying attention so they can find out all my ringtones. Or maybe I really am this forgetful. Should I ask Dr. Cho about upping my meds? Should I go off my meds and see what happens? Should I-

“Y/N/N? You alright, sweetie?” Sam asked, interrupting your train of thought.

You jumped, not having heard his knock on your door. “Oh, Sammy! You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s alright. You were really lost in thought, huh?”

“Yeah, I was.” You ducked your head, blushing. “Did you need something?”

“I was just coming to check on you. FRIDAY said you were in here pacing.”

“Oh, yeah, I do that when I’m stressed. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t bother me, honey. Why are you stressed?” He asked, sitting on your bed and patting the spot next to him.

“I just feel like somebody has to be taking my phone and hiding it. I can’t possibly misplace it this often, right? I was thinking that I should talk to Dr. Cho about my med dosage since I feel like I’m more disorganized on them than I am off. It’s not even just my phone, other than the bobby pin under the colouring books in my top left desk drawer, I never know where anything is anymore.”

“Okay, so we’ll find your phone and go talk to Helen about your meds. Problem solved.” Sam wrapped an arm around you and pulled out his phone to call you.

You nuzzled into his side and mumbled, “What if I don’t want you to find out what my ringtone for you is?”

He kissed the top of your head. “We’ve all loved your ringtones for us, honey. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” As you said this, Sam clicked the ‘call’ button on your contact and Fly Like A Bird by Nelly Furtado started playing from the hallway. You opened the door and found your phone on the little table next to your door. “Fuck.” You said under your breath.

“Hey,” Sam said, wrapping you in a hug and resting his chin on your head. “That’s hilarious, sweetie. I love it.”

You turned around in his arms and wrapped your own around him, “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not. Now what’s this I hear about Barnes having his hands on my girl last week while I was on a mission?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After fixing your meds up with Sam and Dr. Cho, you were able to keep track of your phone for about 5 days. Sam helped. But, now, you had just finished training with Wanda and Pietro and you had no idea where your phone was. This was especially making you think you were crazy since these workout clothes have pockets. Both front and back. “Sammy! Have you seen my phone?” You asked, poking your head into his apartment.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He called from under the bathroom sink. “Have you asked Wanda and Pietro? I know you were just training with them.”

“Nope, I came here on my way to them. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course you will, it’s movie night.”

“Right, yeah. I forgot. Okay, I’m gonna go find Wanda and Piet, but I’ll see you later.” You said, kissing his forehead and shutting the door behind you. The next thing you knew, you heard Red by Taylor Swift playing from somewhere above you. That was your ringtone for Wanda, she was calling you?

“Up here, sora!” You heard Wanda call from the balcony. Looking up, you saw her waving your phone and you quickly used your gravity powers to float it down to you. “Oh, Y/N/N, you did such a great job controlling your powers!” Wanda shouted, running down the stairs to wrap you in a hug.

Pietro was right behind her, and all of a sudden you were in the middle of a group hug with the twins. “Well, princessa, now that we know what your ringtone for Wanda is, we have to find out what it is for me.”

“Speed, I am speed.” came blaring through your phone speakers in the voice of Owen Wilson, who played Lightning McQueen in the movie Cars. You sighed, dropping your head onto Wanda’s shoulder as you declined Pietro’s call.

“That is the best thing in the world, princessa.” Pietro said, speeding you back to your apartment. “We’ll see you at movie night tonight?”

You nodded, leaning in the doorway. “Of course you will, Speedy. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, just when you thought you were done with everybody calling you to find out their ringtone, King T’Challa and Princess Shuri showed up.

“Y/N?” Shuri asked, knocking on your door, “Are you awake yet, love?”

You flung your door open, “Yes, I am, but I was looking for my phone before I came out for breakfast.”

“Oh, let me just call you.” Shuri pulled out her phone and called you, and Get Lucky by Daft Punk and Pharrell Williams started playing from down the hallway, in the kitchen.

You walked down the hall, into the kitchen, where everybody was eating breakfast, blushing. “Couldn’t find your phone again, honey?” Sam asked. You nodded, grabbing it out from under your favourite mug.

“How did it even get out here? I had it last night in bed.”

“No you didn’t, you were in here making popcorn and brought your phone with you. You never brought it back, so I just assumed you grabbed it on our way to bed last night.”

“I must not have.” You said, finally remembering to hang up the call to make the song stop.

Natasha wrote something down on her phone, you assumed she was continuing to add to the list of ringtones she was keeping. “Hey, T’Challa, you’re the only one that we don’t know Y/N’s ringtone for, would you mind calling her for us?” Tony asked.

“Of course I can,” T’Challa said, pulling his phone out.

You quickly tapped on your phone, changing T’Challa’s ringtone while you still had a chance. Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough because The Pink Panther started playing as your phone lit up with a call from the Wakandan King. “Crap.” You mumbled, declining the call.

“Oh, honey.” Sam said, walking over to you and wrapping you in a hug. “Your sense of humour is absolutely the light of our lives. Has anybody disliked what Y/N/N’s ringtone for them was?” Everybody shook their heads.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All in all, losing your phone so often because of your ADHD didn’t end up being so bad. But Clint got his ass kicked when Peter found your phone left in the vents one day. Turns out, when Clint isn’t hiding your phone, you actually don’t lose it all that often.

I hope you enjoyed! Once again, I have no idea how to end fics, so you get that piece of shit as a last paragraph.

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lovebugspots · 7 months

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you can see me?

Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n

a lost spirit who needs solace.

"i was never supposed to leave him like that."

pietro django maximoff

he just died and needs closure.

"we both have people we lost, don't we?"

two souls who can't move on...what if they find happiness with each other instead of their twins?

#pietro maximoff #pietro x reader #aaron taylor johnson #mcu #quicksilver #peter maximoff #death #twins #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #sokovia #music #marvel #the avengers #marvel cinematic universe #steve rodgers #tony stark #Spotify

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fuesch · 9 months

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Sudden idea (hey, we call that a "mind flash" in German, hehe) that Peter likes to make mixtapes for his friends, and Ororo gets AC/DC's Thunderstruck assigned as her theme song. \m/

#peter maximoff #ororo munroe #music

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spaceshipsandpurpledrank · 2 years

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fouralignments · 8 months

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youtube

Got some serious Quicksliver vibes!

#peter maximoff #quickson #quicksilver #Synthwave music #one of my fav artists in the genre #Youtube

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tiktoksinspo · 2 years

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quickandsilvers · 2 months

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Consider: something like this w/Peter.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGed5Ysh5/

Like, Peter gets hurt on a mission and he comes back with just a couple bruises and he's like, "it's just a bruise, I was shot in my costume".

[Cue the touch bit here]

Idk, I'm just,,,,, thinking,,,,, 😳😳😳

A/N- I made this wayyy longer than it had to be but.. sue me? I decided to do Reader/Peter’s introduction too because why the hell not! Also, whats a fic of mine without smut, huh?

Medical Malpractice and Awkward Interactions🔥

Peter Maximoff x fem!reader SMUT 🔥

Summary: Many times Peter Maximoff embarrasses himself in front of you, and one time you patch him up… and screw him against a shower wall. It’s standard first-aid procedure, right?

Warnings: slow burn (kinda), pining, blood, wounds, LOTS of sexual innuendoes, Nurse/Patient role-play, handjob, p in v, oral (Peter receiving), dirty talk, grinding, public humiliation, creampie, shower sex

Word Count: 9905

Taglist: @kaismanwich @evpeters87 @pretzel-bunnie (Please ask if you want to be added/removed!)

—————————————————————————

For most of his thirty plus years of his life, Peter Maximoff considered himself as a relatively easy person to get along with. He had friends who were somewhat happy to have him as company, despite his overly-outgoing nature and lack of social cues.

Magda had raised him to the best of her ability, or at least until the damned speedster mutation kicked in at twelve. After school nights of pretend tea-parties with Wanda or playing kick-the-can with the neighborhood children turned into petty-theft and a challenge of sending poor mama Maximoff on the brink of insanity and financial instability.

So yeah, said mutation sorta sent Peter into a boisterous, thieving tailspin. But hey, at least he wasn’t a complete jackass.

He never smoked, never drank, and since joining the Xmen, Peter only stole things from major companies that wouldn’t notice it was missing in the first place; and occasionally the few Rainbow or Jimi Hendrix vinyls that caught his attention passing by. ‘No one’s perfect, prof!’ Peter would tell Xavier as he returned to the mansion, only to be greeted by an unimpressed shake of the head.

And yes, he did pay back the money his mother paid for the local police to keep the mass amount of snack cakes in his basement under wraps. Once again, Peter wasn’t a complete jackass.

But then, he met you. You were a fellow professor at Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Children, and were renowned across campus - if you weren't teaching music theory, you could either be found giving study sessions for students falling behind or making your famed lasagna bake whenever the Xmen came home from a mission - and you were loved for it.

And you were pretty. Like, shit! Hella pretty. Whether it was your skill at engaging everyone in your lectures or your jaw-droppingly gorgeous face, you held the unofficial record for the most loved on campus. Peter, as the school’s physical education teacher, was second place, and for once he didn't mind getting the silver medal.

He'd heard about you in the staff room one morning. All good things. A real glowing report card. Everyone loved you and for good reason, apparently. But you hadn’t met yet.

That was until Peter realized your class was in the morning and an hour before his PE lesson began, so he decided to snoop around to check out if you were as good as everyone said you were.

Arriving at the back of the classroom, Peter pushed his goggles up to his head, tufts of silvery soft hair coming with it.

And there you were in all your glory, sitting back on your desk and waving to everyone as they walked in, the occasional student getting 'Love your new look, Cynthia!', 'Ready for class, Michael?' or a giant grin and the sporadic finger guns.

Okay, so you were kind too. Kind and pretty. Kind and pretty and obviously smart enough to get a doctorate. Though, how hard was it to get a degree in music; what did you even have to know? Def Leppard formed back in ‘77, Neil Peart is the best drummer of all time, blah blah blah. Pssht, enter Peter into an exam and he’d have a degree in lickedey split!

The fact you had devoted your life to getting a music doctorate compelled Peter to wonder what your taste in said music was. Admittedly, he wasn’t so keen on the idea of you lecturing if Charles had formulated the curriculum himself. What did that old man even listen to? Peter found it hard to imagine his higher up rockin’ it out to Journey.. and God forbid- Black Sabbath?!

Definitely not. Xavier would be limited to the likes of Beethoven. Peter's skin crawled at the thought. Expand your horizons, you powdered-wig wearin’ maniacs!

No matter. If you did turn out to be some kind of sonata orchestral devotee, you wouldn’t be able to resist Peter’s charisma and persuasive techniques. Said persuasion would be helluva lot of nagging in your ear until you subsequently cave; and you would, because everyone does. And eventually you would join the light side of the force, and Peter would teach you the music ‘way of the jedi.’

"Hi! Hello everybody!" You greeted cheerfully and stood up, waving your arms around for emphasis. “It’s great to see you all back looking nice and refreshed!”

Peter normally would have snorted in irony. In most cases, an hour-long lecture at six am in the morning wouldn’t have people ready to learn and raring for the day ahead. In Xavier’s literature lectures, one could easily mistake the students to be flesh-eating, grumbling zombies who hadn’t seen a ray of sunlight in a millennium.

However, as he looked around the room from his seat in the very back, the students filing in had almost cheshire grins on their faces, smiling eagerly at your buzzing figure and sitting up straight in their seats.

Peter’s eyes flitted back to you. The bell bottom jeans you were wearing were dark and fit you perfectly, the flare swishing around as you slowly paced around the room. For the first couple of minutes, he didn't hear a thing you were saying because the swaying was far too distracting.

His eyes trailed upwards. A faux shearling collared leather jacket hung off your frame, belt loose at the hem and clashing against your hip when you took a step. You looked like something straight out of the 60s: and Peter was totally diggin’ it.

The zip was undone, allowing a slither of your t-shirt underneath to show the letters “ardbi” peaking out in a red font. His heart leapt. The Yardbirds, nice, and fitting. Right this second Peter’s walkman hummed the tune of ‘Layla’ by Eric Clapton through his headphones. Quiet enough so he could hear your voice, but loud enough so his head could bop along to the instrumental. Shuffling in his seat, Peter adjusted his RUSH t-shirt, as if wanting him to catch your attention so you could strike up a conversation about it.

What would he say if you did? He needed to impress you, stat; before Scott could find you and chat you up with his extensive motorcycle knowledge that seemed to be all the rage nowadays. Pfft. RUSH was cooler anyways.

All in all, you didn't look like the stereotypical lecturer. Your outfit was far from professional attire, but it didn’t matter; the kids loved you.

Peter was addicted to all of you; from the browline glasses on your head to the Mary Janes on your feet. It was comforting.

"I know you’ve all been working so hard this past semester," you began, leaning against the podium casually, your arms folded as you eyed the students. "And the lovely gentleman that is Professor Xavier would never allow this, but I've decided we can allow ourselves a breath of fresh air and watch a film today."

Cheers and excited whispers rang out in the room as the students smiled impossibly harder, rushing to shove their textbooks into their bags so the film could start.

“Now hold on!” Your laugh graced Peter’s ears, holding your hands up to settle the class. “We haven’t yet discussed the film options! How do we feel about ‘Bobby deerfield’?”

Groans and scoffs resonated through the classroom, and a girl with pigtails a few rows in front of Peter spoke out. “You’re not kiddin’ anybody miss! Everybody knows that film is wack!”

You laughed and stood off the podium, moving towards the open window that was letting in a cold draft. “You know me too well, Jubilee. No one likes that film.” You bent over an empty desk to reach over, closing the window and turning the lock to the right “How about The Empire Strikes Back?”

In a moment of total stillness in the classroom, Peter let out a choked-off groan. Whether it was the sight of you bent over a desk or the mention of that god-tier film, he wasn’t all too sure.

Silence.

Peter knew he had royally embarrassed himself yet again when howls and giggles erupted in the classroom, some students convulsing in laughter and others wolf-whistling as you paused, turning to look back at him.

Jubilee turned around in her seat to stare at her PE teacher, ponytails swinging wildly as she covered her mouth with her hand and guffawed. Peter’s cheeks burned.

"Excited for the film are we, Mr Maximoff?" You quizzed, bemused.

Oh, you noticed too. Great. But you knew his name. Cool, less sarcastically speaking. You were both staff members of the same school so it wasn't that outlandish, but Peter’s stomach still flipped nonetheless.

"Yeh.. aha.. Erm- yunno Luke became a Jedi master in this film, right?" Peter blurted out instinctively, his thoughts in overload under your stare. He kissed his teeth and nodded his head in affirmation. “Pretty.. Pretty cool stuff.”

Congratulations, you thirty-somethin’ year old virgin. You have well and truly out-nerded yourself. This chick will certainly be beggin’ for you to burrow yourself between her thighs now.

Peter swallowed, waiting for someone to say something. Literally anything. All he was met with was muffled giggles and snorts echoing around him. He teaches people in this lecture, dim-wit! How were they gonna respect him and do laps in his classes now, O’ Jedi Master connoisseur?

You grinned sweetly, amused, silently waving your hand for your students to quieten down "Thank you for sharing that, Mr Maximoff, truly. Although I have seen this film before." You nodded in acknowledgement to his RUSH shirt and then returned your focus to the class before Peter could word vomit anything else.

You began to ramble on again. It made sense. Why would you pay attention to him when you had a job to do?

What could he do? Embarrass himself further by standing on his desk and demanding that you have a conversation that ends with you saying, 'Wow, Peter, you're so smart and fast and criminally handsome. Would you like to go to a record store so you can continue to impress me with the sheer amount of knowledge you have stored inside that adorable silver-haired noggin’ of yours?'

A mumble still traveled across the class, primarily because one of their teachers is a raging airhead, but you shushed them quickly by clapping your hands together. It was a casual movement, but one that got everyone's undivided attention again.

"Can anyone guess what year it came out?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the blur of a hand go up but you weren’t going to call on them, and so, Peter was left with his palm awkwardly facing towards the stage. You reiterated your question, "Can any of my students take a guess? Mr Maximoff, I'd appreciate it if you could give my class at least 2 minutes so they can discuss the answer."

Peter’s hand lowered slowly and he narrowed his eyes at the person snickering next to him.

“Don’t make me give yer extra laps next lesson, Christopher, the weather forecast ain’t lookin’ so good fer this Friday.”

Christopher abruptly stopped and faced back to you.

Once again, silence met your question until it was broken by a timid voice. A boy in the front row with curly brunette hair was looking at you unsure. You smiled encouragingly and nodded for him to speak up louder.

“1980?"

"Like always, Bobby, you are correct!" You exclaimed happily. Bobby blushed, embarrassed by the attention and compliment but smiling nonetheless as you moved on to another question. "The film came out in 1980. Does anyone know who it starred? Don’t be afraid to speak up!”

The film started soon after and for the entire time, Peter was completely transfixed by you. You leaned against the door and peered up at the projector screen, a smile on your face as you snuck a few handfuls of popcorn out of Bobby’s grasp as he watched the film intently. He now understood the enthusiastic compliments from the staff room, and why you were so loved by everyone. You were infectious.

He couldn't help himself, Peter found his eyes wandering over every part of your body, studying every inch of you before he'd had the chance to properly comprehend that he was being a creep. Appreciating beauty was one thing, leering at women he hadn't met before was another. Keep it in your pants, Maximoff.

As the students piled out of the lecture hall, all chatting loudly as they walked out, Peter waited. A group of girls surrounded you and asked you a bunch of questions, and you answered them all like you were their cool older sister rather than someone who was paid to teach them things. Then they left too, and you were alone.

"Did you enjoy the class, Mr Maximoff?" you asked kindly, a smile tugging at your lips as you turned around slightly. You sat on top of the nearest desk and folded your legs under yourself, resting your elbow on your knee and your head on your fist.

Blinking, Peter froze before nodding vigorously. So vigorous, in fact, that his goggles slid from his head down to the apex of his nose. He huffed in irritation and the exhaled breath fogged up his lenses completely. Peter bets he looks so irresistible right now.

Say something- think of something fast, moron! Isn’t that your whole gimmick? Impress her with your natural God-given charm!

Who are we kidding, this is Peter Maximoff. Master of the Jedi’s and embarrassing silences.

He wiped his goggles with the end of his shirt "I would think a music teacher would be lecturin’ about music, not films.. But yes, yer were- the film was.. very entertainin’."

Shit. Your lip twitched. Did he do somethin’ wrong? Of course he did- he just insulted a Professor’s lecturin’ to their face, ewok!

"You're a professor of...?"

"Err, I teach PE.. yunno.. I just make the kiddos run laps ‘n kick a ball around, basically." No shit, doofus! Maybe stop mansplainin’ what workin’ out is and apologize? “Fuck i’m so sorr-”

You cut him off with a simple wave of your hand, that gorgeous smile of yours decorating your face once again. “It’s alright, honest!” You say, observing his exasperated look as his mouth parts, ready to apologize “Jean told me that your mouth moves faster than your brain sometimes, I don’t take any offense to what you said.”

Peter sighs, relieved yet processing your words. “So, uh..” he hesitated, an awkward yet boastful smirk building then “Yer talk about me? All good things, I hope.”

You felt a heat rising to your face immediately and you looked around the room to avoid his intense stare, your eyes falling to another window you had yet to close. The cogs in your head turn and you whip around to face Peter, fanning yourself with your hand and beginning to shrug off your jacket. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” You faux panted, moving away from him to open the window like you needed a cold breeze.

Peter watched as you bent over, much closer now and able to see you from straight behind. His eyes grazed your body with a suggestive smirk.

“Just you, babe.”

Okay, babe?! Not helping your flushed state, at all!

You muffle your sputter by coughing, turning around once again and sitting on the desk. You watch as Peter walks up to you, standing close enough that his thighs force your legs a little wider around him.

The silence is unbearable, so you break it. “I mean, of course I've mentioned you once or twice, dude!” You chuckle nervously, “It’s hard to miss someone that looks like you speedin’ around the mansion.”

You register the confused shift in his gaze and now it’s your turn to run back on what you said, jumping in realization and your knee knocking into his trouser-clad outer thigh. “Not that you look weird in any way! I just meant the whole ‘silver’ aesthetic is totally bitchin’! And obviously I’ve heard about that whole Apocalypse fiasco in ‘84. It was really brave, what you did, and I can’t help but thank you for savin’ the whole world.. and whatever..”

You trail off as you babble yourself into a frenzy, Peter’s delighted grin humiliating you further as he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Thanks, babe.” You let out a shuddery breath. Again?! Where was this confidence when he was making a fool out of himself not just a minute ago?

Peter gave in at your pleading gaze and stepped back, a sheepish smile on his face as he looked down to the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. He swayed back and forth on his heels. “I better go anyway. Places to be, worlds to save.. Y’know how it is, babe.” The uneasiness on his features left as soon as it came, now replaced with a cocky smirk and a sly wink.

“Well, if you come back in one piece, maybe we could, I dunno, go out for a movie or somethin’?” You ask apprehensively “since you seem to like Star Wars so much.”

“Y-yeah!” Peter said almost too quickly, clearing his throat before gathering his thoughts and masking the elated grin battling to appear. “I mean, only if yer gonna be makin’ that lasagna, right?” He quipped, stomach rumbling at the thought.

You nodded in answer, grinning. “Just come stop by whenever you’re free and we’ll figure out a date, yeah?” Your eyes widened. “I mean date as in time!”

Peter wiggled his eyebrows again, speeding to the door and saluting you before making his way to the training room, fistbumping the air. Fuckin’ score!

For the remainder of the day, Peter couldn’t keep his mind off of you and the promised movie date you were set to have after his mission, uncontrollably vibrating in excitement whilst boarding the X-jet the day after.

“Promise me you’ll stay safe, yeah?” You ask him, standing on the runway as you smooth out the wrinkles in his uniform, your palm flat on his chest.

A broad grin spread across Peter’s face as he placed his own hand above yours, running his thumb smoothly over your skin.

“Don’t worry about little ol’ me, ‘kay? A promise is a promise, sweet-cheeks.”

——————————————————————————

Peter’s not a jackass. He would never intentionally go back on his word.

But that was a pretty damn hard promise to fulfill.

As soon as the jet landed four hours too late, Peter crashed into the living room couch, ignoring any questions of passers by for medical assistance. He practically melted into the linen cushions, exhaling deeply.

The kid previously sitting on the couch scowled as Peter stretched himself across the furniture, waving the younger student off with his hand. “I’m an Xman, I have the authority here.” The cushions muffled Peter’s grumble.

All in all, he wasn’t that hurt. In reality, the mission was fairly easy-going. Peter was barrelling through an evacuated suburban village, rescuing any stragglers that had found themselves lost or stuck under rubble, whilst the other Xmen dealt with arresting the rogue mutant. Blurs of grays and browns passed him at rapid speed as he did one last sweep of the area, confident in the fact that all people had been safely vacated.

Leaning onto a particularly large mound of debris, Peter swung his leg in boredom, waiting on Charles to give him the go-ahead to start the X-jet back to the mansion. The wind picked up, sending his tufts of hair back and away from his forehead.

Abruptly, a flurry of white flew into the air, startling Peter as he whipped around, ready to attack.

The sight wasn’t as menacing as he thought, though. Small seeds dispersed across the terrain, each carrying a bundle of fluffy white bristles in its wake. He looked down to the sparse grass and was met with a patch of green stems, like a blossom without its petals. Peters brows furrow. What a funny lookin’ flower.

Crouching down, Peter plucks the base of a stem with all its remaining puffballs, cupping his hand in the direction of the wind so it wouldn’t fly away. He grinned, standing up again and inspecting it. It looked peculiar, and rather outlandish. Just his style.

He was halfway through tucking the flower carefully into his back pocket before something slammed into him, sending Peter tumbling into a jagged pile of rubble and fragments of serrated wood.

Motherfucker! He groaned, feeling a searing pain shoot through his stomach. A pile of dust shot up into the air almost comically, leaving a tangy taste on his tongue. Bleh. With feeble limbs, Peter lifted himself onto his elbows, looking down from his cracked goggles to shakily unzip his uniform halfway, revealing a hefty patch of crimson fluid staining his white undershirt. Scraps of wreckage tore holes through the fabric, revealing shallowish wounds littering his chest and stomach. Fuck!

Peter blinked slowly, turning his gaze to try and detect who or what had struck him. Just to the right of his aching body, a sizable slab of concrete stuck out of the ground, that had presumably collapsed from a nearby building.

How fuckin’ embarrasin’! Peter was probably gonna scar from this incident, and he would have to tell people the ‘heroic’ tale of how it went down? That he was assaulted by a chunk of rock? The students barely respected him from the whole classroom debacle with you the day prior; how were they ever gonna treat him with high regard now?

That’s right. You. How were you gonna react when he tells you? ‘Oh, How am i doin’, sweetcheeks? Thank yer for askin’, i got a real wild story fer these battle scars. What was it, ya ask? Hand-to-hand combat with buildin’ material. Sexy, right?’

Yeah, no. He had already embarrassed himself enough around you.

Once he had been strapped back into his seat, with the help of Hank, Peter now had to endure two hours of throbbing pain, and Scott giggling next to him.

Peter slumped into his seat, whining into his dust-cracked hands. “What the fuck am I gunna tell her, man? I can’t keep on embarrassin’ myself like this!”

“Don’t worry too much, dude, you’ll forget about this in no time.” Scott assured, smiling and placing a hand on his shoulder, before screwing his face up and wiping the dust frantically on his sleeve. Peter hummed, albeit confused. When was Scott ever the one to give Peter actual reassurance?

“All in all, it’s just another brick in the wall, man.” Ah, there it was. Peter slowly turned to face Scott, deadpanning and watching the boy’s shoulders shake from silent laughter.

Scott shrieked as Peter shook his head like a wet dog, showering his best friend in a flurry of dust.

Once the flight had come to a halt, Peter limped through the mansion's corridors, hobbling to the living room couch as he was in too much pain to climb the few flights of stairs to his room.

Peter grumbled into the couch, eyes hooded as he melted into the material, ready to fall asleep.

And then you came barreling into the room. Peter sat up as you rushed into the room, nudging him into the back of the couch and placing your knees either side of his quivering hips, clutching his face. Peter really wished he had showered now.

“Take off your shirt.” Come again? Were Peter’s wounds making him hallucinate some filthy apparatition?

He blinked. “Eh?”

“When did you get back? No one told me you got back and I've been worried like crazy. You were four hours late, Peter!” You stressed, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide. “Kurt told me you were injured! Did the mutant hurt you? He said you went flyin’ into rubble and practically got impaled!”

You were speaking in such quick succession that it had impressed Peter by your pace. He merely blinked once more, too caught up with your smooth hands against his cheeks and your frantic words. You were worried about him?

“I’m fine, babe.”

You glance down to his stomach, however you couldn’t see much of anything due to the dark hue of his uniform. “I can’t believe you were impal-”

“Not that I don't appreciate yer concern fer me babe, but 'm fine.” You glared at him “Honest! It’s just a few scrapes. Nothin’ i can’t handle.” he grinned, attempting to ease you up a little.

Despite Peter’s best efforts, you still seem just as on edge as before. Taking your hands off his cheeks, he whined at the loss of warmth, chasing your touch. Instead, you reach down to grasp hold of the zipper at the top of his ensemble, zipping it down to just above his hips. His mouth makes a small ‘o’ before contorting into a lazy smirk, glancing up at you.

“Easy there, tiger.”

A glimpse of his stained undershirt tells you all you need to know. You meet his gaze anxiously as Peter gives you a guilty grin, shrugging his shoulders at being called out. “Okay, maybe it’s slightly worse than i let on but-”

“Take your shirt off.” You urge imperatively, and he flushes.

“I dunno babe, I'm like, supeerrr sore. I don't think I can do it by myself, yer gonna have to help me.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. It was blatantly obvious Peter was flirting, any common idiot could tell. But he looked pretty beaten up, and you were mostly sure that moving him around too much would not feel too great for the speedster, so you obliged.

You lift his shirt up in gradual intervals, keeping your focus on the garment as he grins straight at you, clearly wanting to catch you peeking a glance at his body.

“Normally I'd be buyin’ yer dinner before showin’ off the goods… but-” Peter cuts off as you peel the shirt away from one particularly deep wound, the skin sticking to the material. You whisper apologies, lifting the shirt off his head and discarding it to the side. You glanced back down.

Peter noticed your blatant staring and looked up at you, tilting his head to the side. "So are you goin’ ter look me up and down like that ‘er are yer gunna patch me up?"

“Shush, ‘m not looking at you like anythin’!”

“Mhm, sure yer weren’t sugar.” He beamed. You redden, his thoughts transmitting like a beacon through his facial expression.

“Dont make this sexual..” You mutter, avoiding his gaze as you look around for the medkit you brought with you. Peter follows your movements with his gaze, head leaning back to rest of the edge of the couch whilst you shuffled about the room.

“Now what fun would that be, hm? Can’t I enjoy some attention from a beautiful woman like you?”

With the supplies you return to your earlier position, standing over his shirtless body and desperately trying to keep your thoughts at bay.

Finally taking a closer glance, you see his wounds, shallow, but littering his stomach and chest. There was a fairly large but not too serious cut on the right side of his abs and you lightly gasp, your fingertips reaching for it. “Can I touch you?”

Peter groaned “Ooh, yer can touch me anywhere yer want sugar.”

Choosing to ignore him, you open the first aid box with a satisfying click, taking out a roll of bandages, cotton pads and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, placing it down on the couch next to you. As you do so Peter takes a deep breath, letting him savor the scent of your perfume before the alcohol’s smell eclipsed it.

“So are ya my nurse now?” Peter observes “Kinky. Didn't know yer were into roleplay, but i'm not gonna lie, im kinda diggin’ it babe.”

You choke, smacking his arm. Too far, maximoff.

Peter winces, “Hey! Do ya hit all yer patients? This is medical malpractice right here! I was just sayin- this is like the start to every porno ive ever see-” he hisses as you press down the alcohol soaked cotton pad on his wound.

“Sorry, this may sting a little.” you say half apologetically.

“Well it don't mean anythin’ if yer warn me after, babe!” He whimpers, reaching to grab your hips for support from your position above him. You suppress the urge to rut into his lap, continuing your cleaning as you feel an onslaught of slick ooze from your core. You tried to keep in the sigh, but it fell so easily from your mouth at his touch.

“Ouch. Ow. Ow, ow oW OW!! Babe?! Does the word ow mean anythin’ to yer? Ye- agh-OW!” Peter shrieks, and you wince at the voice crack “Jesus christ! Who taught yer how to tend to people’s injuries? A construction worker with a jackhammer? OW!”

Despite his clear pain you stifle a laugh, swiping more gently this time. “It’s all part of the process, Peter. I’m trying to help you here.”

“Oh really? Are yer tryna help me or finish the fuckin’ job, babe?!”

A moment of tranquility passes, and just before you think Peter will stay quiet and let you get on with your work his voice drops, a sultry tone now teasing your ears. “I've got ter say babe.. when I pictured ya with yer hands roamin’ my chest, the wound was conspicuously absent.” You failed to keep in your reaction this time, a shuddery whimper leaving your mouth as you tense. Peter bites his lip, grin impossibly wide and his hands snaking around your hips.

You feel him pull you in closer and you oblige, facing him as you sit down onto his lower thighs as carefully as you can, not wanting to cause him any further strain. He grins.

“Okay, one more cut to clean and I'm done, yes? Then you can be bandaged up.” Clearing your throat, you await his response.

Peter inhales, screwing his eyes shut in preparation “M’kay, ‘m ready. Jus- FUCK.” You press the cotton ball onto his wound, watching as his muscles tense up and he grips onto your hips for support. Chewing on his lip in anguish, his head throws back once more. You refrain from looking at his adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat.

His tight grip on your hips loosen after a minute and you hum, proceeding to unravel the bandages and wrap them around his torso.

Peter looks at you seriously for a moment, breaking the silence in a much more apologetic way this time. “ ‘M Sorry about blowin’ the whole movie thing, I know yer wanted to go out after i got back.. I guess this will have to be our version of a first date, huh?” He chuckles half heartedly, but his eyes oozed regret and mourning for your date to the theatre.

You move a slither of hair out of his eyes, smiling. “I don't mind either way, we could always go out another time, yeah? And no one predicted you were gonna get hurt like that, it’s not your fault, Peter.”

“Yeah, thanks babe.” your heart clenches as his dimples show through his toothy smile.

Clearing his throat, Peter’s large hands splayed across the small of your back, sliding you from his lower thighs to be flush against his crotch. He grins cheekily as you gasp, feeling his semi hard cock through the soft material of his unzipped uniform.

Hands laying to rest on his bare shoulders, you smooth your thumb over his collarbone. You move your other hand down from his left shoulder, your fingertips grazing down his arm before reaching his hand. Gently coaxing his grasp away from your hip, you interlace your fingers, clasping them together as his other hand frames your jaw.

“Hey.. uh, I think I might have a little scratch up here on my lip. I don't s’pose yer would be interested in checkin’ it out, doc?” Peter’s sweet, chocolate browns shed a spicier shade when he captures your gaze.

Your body answers before you can talk, tongue wetting your lips, leaving him in suspense for a moment.

You faux sigh in thought, “I guess I can’t leave a patient suffering. It would be medical malpractice, and I always make sure my patient gets the care he deserves.”

Peter’s eyes dilate then, and you begin to question whether or not he was joking about the roleplay kink. Alas, you had no more time to ponder as he didn’t waste a single second, bumping your nose against his before seizing your lips.

Kissing him sensually, your tongue swims smoothly against his as you move to scrape your fingers across his scalp. Whining in response, Peter’s head lolls back at the stimuli as you nibble his lower lip. You could feel Peter’s cock twitch and you grind slowly against it, eliciting a filthy moan from his mouth into yours.

As you swallow and get over the initial wave of adrenaline, a bitter and rather tangy taste invades your mouth, forcing you to pull back as Peter chases your lips. You place a hand to his chest, breathing hard and scrunching your face up. “Bleh!”

Peter’s half lidded gaze snaps back open as he observes your clear disgust, swiping his tongue over his own lips in questioning. “Uh- yer.. yer alright over there? I know ‘m sorta outta practise but-“

You swipe your thumb over your lips, noticing a few specks of dust covering them. Peter notices and brings a hand to his forehead, slapping himself at his idiocy.

“Shit! Sorry, babe. I totally just crashed here when i got back, forgot about the whole.. grime situation.” Peter grimaces, cursing himself under his breath, “Way to kill the fuckin’ mood, Maximoff.”

To his surprise, you only lean in closer, batting your eyelashes at him. “Patients have to be clean before assessments can begin. Standard procedure. I hope you don’t mind if I scrub you down?”

Your sultry voice forces a heat to pool in Peter’s belly, and he chokes on his own groan, pupils dilating further.

Fwip. You don’t even get the chance to scooch off his lap before Peter had you in his bathroom, shirtless and with his navy uniform dangling around his v-line. Another Fwip and Peter turned on the shower before pulling your back against his chest, tugging at your t-shirt as a silent plea of desperation and unbridled horniness.

Your mouth parts as his head dips into your shoulder. You swore you could hear the faintest of whimpers leave his mouth as he tenderly kisses your clothed shoulder, his lips humming small vibrations of aroused distress.

What choice did you have but to comply?

As you turned around, undressing yourself before him, Peter’s eyes drunk you in, his eyebrows twitching and his teeth sinking into his lip at your little strip show. Down to the last few articles of clothing, you removed your underwear slowly, a thread of wetness connecting your pussy with the soaked fabric.

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered, his hands quivering as you then slung your t-shirt somewhere around the room, eager to surge forward and grasp at every part of your body.

You smiled, flattered yet unsure of what to do, your eyes too preoccupied with Peter’s uniform, of which was slowly sliding down his hips, revealing the black band of his underwear.

“So.. nurse, I think 'm ready fer my physical.” Peter chuckled, observing proudly as your breathing sped up rapidly, gazing at his torso.

“Need any help undressing?” You asked, motioning to his bandaged chest and bruised arms. “It must be sore.”

“Yes please, nurse.” Peter replied flirtatiously, maintaining his character as patient. You stalk over to him, getting on your knees as you start pulling his uniform and boxers down as slowly as possible without Peter getting frustrated. As you do so, you notice his painfully hard dick slapping upwards from its confines. Smiling, you innocently glance up at Peter’s blushing state, inching forward as if you were about to…

Peter’s cock twitched and he gasped as you surged forward, only to completely pass where he needed you most as you teasingly peck the inside of his thigh, eyes still boring into his own.

“C’mon babe.. That ain’t playin’ fair.” A mix between a whine and a growl left Peter’s throat as you stood up to face his pleading eyes. Taking his face in your palms, your soft lips tease him by brushing against his lips, but not yet giving in to kissing him.

“I think It’s best if I check your temperature orally first.” You mumble. Capturing his lips roughly, your kiss turns into a wet, dueling passion. As you battle for dominance, Peter kicks off the clothing pooling around his ankles, guiding you backwards and into the awaiting shower.

Hot water cascades over you as he pulls you close again, diving in for another heated kiss that you’re all too eager to return.

You have no idea how long your tongues swirl around one another, but eventually a hand grips your wrist and tugs you away. You go easily, and when you look up at Peter, he grins giddily and places a bar of soap in your hands. You lick your lips, this time no longer unwelcomed by the taste of dust and plastering, but of Peter.

The room becomes stuffy as the water from the shower starts to get hot. You sigh as the hot water caresses your skin, or maybe it was from Peter running his hands over your body. They stop on your breasts before gently squeezing them, looking down at you with a dopey grin. You throw your head back as the water runs over your chest.

As Peter prodded and squeezed your tits like they were some new gadget you began the slow, worshipful task of running your soapy hands across his chest, making sure to leave the bandaged areas alone.

"I would really appreciate it if you communicated every ache, any pain that needs tendin’ to, sir." You say, moving to whisper the words in his ear sweetly, the filthy undertones dripping from your tongue.

Peter pauses briefly before managing to regain control over himself, grabbing your arm and pulling you impossibly close. He nuzzles into your neck as he whispers back in a playful manner. "I've got one in a specific place. Maybe yer could help me by usin’ those magic hands of yours, doc?"

"Mhh, or do you need me to kiss it better, Peter?" You tease, licking your bottom lip suggestively before biting the plump flesh with a wink.

Peter’s face turns into a huge blush and his heartbeat starts accelerating even more as he watches you move in close, staring into his eyes. His mind goes absolutely blank and he can only stare at you in shock. His breathing becomes heavier as he looks at your lips and how you bite them; and with that a strange flurry of stammers leave his mouth.

“Nghnaawhaaaaat?”

"Peter? Can you show me where it hurts, honey?" You continue to tease him with a pout. God, you were such a fuckin’ brat.

He can't help but feel both embarrassed and surprised at how forward your question is. He clears his throat "Uh... R-Right here, doll..." He says in a nervous manner as his blush deepens even more, then he points at his twitching cock. You follow his line of sight and smile, watching as beads of pre-cum drizzle out of his tip.

"Aww, poor baby. How long has it been hurting?" You furrow your brows, a mischievous look in your eyes as you place your hands on his chest, traveling downwards.

Peter looks at you with a shocked expression for the fifth time that night, tilting his head much like a puppy as he watches you in awe.

Shiit... Are you really doing this? It’s a good thing you didn’t fully embrace the doctor-patient performance with a stethoscope and all, because you’d certainly be worrying about the freakishly-fast roadrunner beat Peter’s heart was jammin’ to. Fuck.

"Do you want me to kiss it better, baby?" You quiz sweetly.

Peter starts to feel his breath getting heavier as his heart is racing faster, wayy too fuckin’ fast. "Ah... Y-Yeah..." He replies softly, still feeling his face turn into a brighter red as he slowly nods.

Every nerve in his body went on high alert as Peter watched your fingers close around his aching cock and move over the swollen flesh. A tortured gasp escaped his lips, and he threw his head back against the shower wall, panting; it felt so good, your smooth palm creating a delicious friction. He thrust forward into your hand, wanting you to continue, his shame at being naked and aroused gone entirely.

Your face was still close. Close enough to observe his face, fascinated at the raw sensuality flickering across it. Drops of water freckled Peter’s cheeks and forehead; you weren't sure if it was the spray from the shower or his own sweat. His mouth was open slightly, and his rough breathing was causing yours to speed up as well. You smoothed your hand back down his wet length and drew the other hand down to cup his balls.

Peter hissed loudly and pushed his hips forward again, cursing. You couldn't tear your eyes from his profile; he was flushed, his lips dusky and moist, the silver of his eyelashes standing out against his fevered cheek. Simply delectable, and you wanted to have a taste.

The touch of your lips on his neck brought Peter to the surface as you pressed your breasts to his chest, your lips everywhere. They ghosted over his collarbone, shoulder, neck and jaw before closing over his earlobe. He moaned, turning, seeking out your lips.

Peter's eyes opened as you released your hands from him. In no time Peter had locked lips with you once more, in a clash of teeth and moisture; whether it was spit or water you weren’t entirely sure. He raised his hands to your breasts at the same time your tongue parted the seam of his lips, and the two of you moaned together before fusing your open mouths.

Your eyes fluttered closed as Peter ground the raised centers of your nipples into his large palms, then rubbed a thumb over each in rhythm. Your initial intentions were to tease the ever-loving shit out of the speedster, but you couldn’t but melt into a puddle at his tender touches.

Peter’s erection was pressing into your belly, hard as steel. You ground against it, wanting it lower and inside, quickly losing your intention to mess around. Abruptly breaking the kiss to breathe, you quirked an eyebrow at Peter. "So, have you made up your mind?"

"Wha-?" He was adorably confused, his pupils dilated in the shadowy light. You grinned and reached between yourselves to stroke along his cock lightly, picking up the trickle of pre-cum on his cockhead and rubbing it around the smooth, ragingly red area.

Lightly pushing Peter back under the full spray, you sank to your knees in front of him. Handling him gently, you sucked the tip of him into your mouth, savoring the much nicer tangy sensataaion.

"Oh Fuck," The speedster moaned on a sharp inhalation of breath. This was progressing past the realm of sweaty-palm fantasies and straight into the embodiment of every pornographic dream he'd ever had; only those dreams had never felt quite so hot.

Your mouth was liquid fire over him, your tongue circling and teasing, making him grow even larger.

He resisted the urge to grab your head and thrust into your mouth like he had seen in the pornos, giving you free reign over his pleasure. Instead Peter coursed his hands through your damp hair, giving you wordless pats of praise when you traced up a particularly sensitive vein.

Already weak at the knees from your mouth, Peter nearly shot when he looked down and caught you watching him with feverish eyes. The image was so blatantly erotic, he couldn't help but complete it by curling his fingers deeper into your hair.

The slight jerk of his hands on your scalp told you that Peter was close to going completely out of control. His slight grunt and increased participation, in turn, increased your enthusiasm. Releasing your grip around the base of his cock, you tried to take him deeper. This you had tried before with varying amounts of success, usually gagging as the overzealous recipient tried to choke you.

However, with an untried Peter, you were having a great deal more success with the technique.

After figuring out how to time your breathing with the motions, you crept forward and began in earnest, taking Peter in until your nose touched his silvery pubic hair. His hands tightened again, and this time his whimper of pleasure was louder, needier.

He was so close, water pounding his chest, blood pounding in his ears, lips, tongue and friction at the center of it all.

Nearly mindless now, searching for that sweet release, Peter thrust forward a bit, searching for the movement that would send him over the edge. When he encountered no resistance from you, he thrust his hips in rhythm with your mouth until he could take no more.

You could feel Peter's flesh tightening and knew he was ready to blow a load. He tried to push you away before he let go, but you gripped the back of his thighs tightly and sucked hard, an explosion of cum shooting down your throat and tongue.

You gagged a little when the first stream hit the back of your throat, but you recovered enough to hear the incoherent whines Peter made. Another grunt escaped from him as you rubbed your soft tongue over the underside of his dick, moving over the pulsating veins there.

It was all Peter could do to keep from crumpling as he shot harder than he ever had in his life, knees weak from the sheer force of it.

If you hadn't been there to maintain the grip on his legs, he would have melted into a pile of jelly at your knees.

Once you had ridden out his orgasm and released him you stood back up, pushing back the soaken strands of hair that hung off his forehead. Peter grinned, chest heaving as he watched your tongue come out, licking a spot of his release you had missed on your lip.

“Feeling any better, sir?”

Again, Peter felt tongue-tied. He wasn't sure what to say or do. Even though he'd had the most soul-sucking orgasm of his life, his dick was still half-hard. Typical speedster sex drive.

The water was still hot, yet wouldn’t be lasting for much longer. He had to make this count.

Your breasts brushed his chest again when Peter leaned in to capture your lips with his. A slight squeak of surprise escaped you when he separated the seam of your lips with his tongue and pushed forward aggressively. Your tongues duelled, battling for position. Peter could taste the musky odor of his own arousal on your lips, strangely exotic. His hands were tender when he lifted the weight of your breasts in his hold.

Nothing in his fantasies matched the feel of your nipples as he circled over them. Softly puckered flesh dragged under the smooth calluses of his thumbs, causing you to moan softly and push your torso against his.

Straightening up, Peter grasped your waist tightly and with a smirk, swiftly spun you around, pushing you forward into the shower wall.

You let out a hiss as your nipples came in contact with the cold tiles, them becoming painfully hard. Peter gently pushed your hair aside before placing a chaste kiss on your neck; you moved your head to the side, allowing him better access.

Peter rested his forehead between your shoulder blades as the water ran down his back. He took a deep breath in, trailing a hand down your back before pulling back and slapping your ass. The loud moan that fell from your lips made him chuckle, "You've done yer job doc, now yer need payment.”

You nodded your head as you whimpered, feeling yourself become more and more turned on and unbelievably wet. You feel Peter’s tip rubbing your folds, spreading your moisture around as you whimper in anticipation.

You looked back over your shoulder to Peter glancing down at where you two meet. Raising an eyebrow, you went to say something but Peter's quick thrust into you made all the air in your lungs escape. You were wet enough that it didn’t hurt, but the delicious stretch it provided you made your eyes roll back into your head.

Hands slipping as you try to hold onto something, your breasts bounce into the wall as you whimper, legs spreading further so Peter could fully enter you.

Without stopping and with a thoughtful hum, Peter reached up towards the detachable shower head and flicked the setting to a steady stream of fast water, pulling it down.

You could hear him doing something and looked back over your shoulder to see him messing with the shower head, "Are you about to-" You let out a cry as you felt the pressure from the water on your clit, "Shi- shit! Peter!" The pleasure making your eyes roll back.

You attempt to snap your thighs shut, trying to escape the intense pressure on your bundle of nerves. Peter, however, had other plans as he huffs breathlessly, lips dragging up the sensitive skin of your neck. He nips at your ear, using a free hand to spread your legs apart.

“Yer need to keep ‘em spread for me. Y-yer can do that fer me, can’t ya, babe?” He grunts into your ear. You whimper, nodding.

“That’s a- f-fuck.. good girl.”

In a carnal rage, a clatter sounds as Peter drops the shower head, gripping your hips with both hands as he fucks up into you, leaning his bodyweight onto yours to give him more leverage. The faster he fucked into you, the faster the feeling of your climax crested. This one felt different, more intense, and you both knew it.

You make a pitiful noise, again and again as Peter drives his cock into your cunt, hitting your G-spot every single time.

“Therrre she is. Is that it, yeah? That spot feel good, honey?” You could feel Peter’s grin against your throat. “Yer squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. Can yer hear that?”

The slick sounds of his cock fucking into you was loud over your pants for air, and you nodded weakly. You felt slick and pre-cum run down your thighs as Peter moved in and out of your heat in rapid succession, much like an animal in heat. "I think yer might even squirt fer me, doc.”

A shuddered moan fell from your lips before you agree. Sharp, white hot pleasure tore through your body, from head to toe, and you keened as Peter forced himself deeper. "Yer pushin' me out, babe-lemme in, need to feel it," he moaned. "Fuck, yer so pretty; that's it, that- Fuck!"

You felt the dampness of your thighs before you could comprehend the heightened pleasure, and you glanced down to watch Peter’s lower half become soaked from your climax. "Oh-" You turned your head as much as you could to face him, eyes half lidded.

From his position behind you, Peter crashed his lips to yours and forced his tongue into your mouth, fucking it languidly while his hips stuttered in their rhythm. You panted as he pulled back, his breath fanning over your spit-slick lips.

"I need ter cum, baby-" he pleaded, thrusting deeper.

"Please, please-lemme cum in-"

"Yes," you rasped, nodding. “Please- i need you to cum in me so bad-”

Peter groaned and shuddered. He lowered his head to your shoulder and rested his forehead on vour collarbone. You could hear him panting over the slapping of skin and slick noises of his cock in your cunt, and you matched his thrusts in an attempt to bring him closer to the edge.

"Oh, fuck," he rasped. Each thrust sent a shock of pleasure curling up your spine, but you brushed it off, intent on making Peter cum - you squeezed around him and circled your hips. The whimpery noises he makes only make you clench harder, wrapping him in a vice you never want to let go of.

Suddenly, the hot spray of water turns cold and you gasp, arching your back and clamping yourself down on Peter’s cock with all the strength you could muster, tipping him over the edge.

“I-ngh.. Shit!” Peter panted and his hips faltered, a warmth soon blooming in your cunt, filling you up to the brim and leaking out of your quivering body.

The slow, rocking rhythm Peter set with his hips soothed you, bringing you slowly down from your high while he descended from his. "Fuckin' hell, babe," he murmured, and he kissed you on the lips, then the forehead.

The room is full of the scent of arousal, and it makes you feel high up in the clouds, filling your head with the syrupy-sweet fuzziness of speedy contentment.

You must have zoned out for a little bit, because the next thing you’re aware of is the sound of the shower being turned off, and strong yet shaking arms scooping you up off your feet. You were deposited outside the walls of the shower, and then a soft towel is being worked around your body, collecting the droplets of water falling off your hair and frame.

"Let's get yer warmed up, babe."

Before long, you’re bundled up in a bathrobe, hair perfectly brushed out, and being placed gently onto the couch you had been making out with Peter on not too long ago. The volume of the TV had been lowered, allowing you to hear Peter's soft mumblings of praise in your hair as he lays below you, arms cradling you to his chest. His sweatpants feel comfy against your bare legs, and your palms rest on the cotton of his white t-shirt he had changed into.

“Can we watch The Empire Strikes Back?” Peter murmurs into your hair, making you grin as it takes you back to the day you met him in the auditorium. Humming contently, you fish your hand down the side of the sofa in search of the tv remote. You furrow your brows however as you feel something rather furry brush against your fingertips.

Pinching it between your two fingers you pluck it out of the couch, inspecting the small… seed?

Peter’s eyes follow your gaze as he gasps softly in remembrance, craning his head to the side to see an abundance of dandelion seeds littering the couch. Peter frowned. He had forgotten about the strange flower he had plucked due to the abrupt slab of concrete disrupting his day. The seedlings must have fallen out of his uniform when you were tending to his wounds.

“Shit! That was meant ter be a surprise, babe.” Peter frowned sulkily, plucking the puffball from your fingertips. “I found these weird lookin’ flowers on the mission and wanted to show them to yer. Thought i discovered a new species er somethin’.”

Despite your heart warming at the kind yet failed gesture, you laughed. “Peter, honey, they’re dandelions. Weeds.” You grinned, watching as his mouth forms an ‘o’ in realization.

“But.. at least they’re rare, right?”

You thin your lips out into a line whilst shaking your head, trying not to laugh as the speedster groans, throwing his head back.

“Ugh, I could’ve totally avoided that wall if it weren’t fer these fuckin’ things,” Peter drops the dandelion seed, letting it float to the polished wooden floor. “All that fer nothin’!”

You snuggle further against him, grazing around his bandages with a confused expression. “I do appreciate the gesture, but I thought you got these from the fight? Not from.. A wall?” You appear more perplexed as you try to imagine the scenario. “Did you.. run into it or somethin’?”

Peter sighed. Another point to add too his ‘you royally suck, dude!’ tally chart. How many times had he embarrassed himself before you now, five?

“No, it-” He grimaced “-it slammed into me.” He watched as you squinted your eyes, picturing how it went down. “Don’t fret though, babe, I totally showed it who’s boss. Knocked some sense into it.” He grinned, stroking your drying hair.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” You grin, tracing further down the trail of wounds and scratches. “Seems like it knocked more sense into you, though.”

Peter scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal before looking down at you, smiling lopsidedly. “Do I get a lolly fer bein’ so brave, doc?”

He smirks at your flushed expression and you still for a moment, before reaching into your bathrobe pocket and pulling out the panties you had strewn across the bathroom earlier. Peter's eyes widen.

“Here, take these.” You say simply, lazily dropping the material into his hand. Peter beams, face dusted pink. He’ll find some use for those, you’re sure. It won’t be a surprise if you find them framed up in his room, next to his Greta Van Fleet poster.

The next morning you change, treading down the corridor into the living room. Scott is slung across the sofa’s armrest watching the news as Jean sits on the other end by his socked feet, reading a book. Kurt and Ororo share a large armchair nearby, also watching the TV as Peter leans against a wall, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. Not like he needs it anyway.

As you walk in Peter raises his mug at you, nodding and grinning toothily as you greet him back. You silently hope he hadn’t mentioned the prior events to the others.

You ask Scott to turn the volume up and he groans tardily, reaching down the back of the sofa to fish for the remote. You go into shock, however, when he furrows his brows, pulling out a lacy pair of underwear instead. Your underwear.

Scott holds them up in the air with his index finger and thumb, flushing wildly and looking around the room in search of answers. Jean lowers her book, giving you a disapproved stare before continuing her new read of the day. Ororo squeals in laughter and Kurt goes a deep shade of bluey purple, his gaze anywhere but your panties.

“Well, what do we have here?” You could hear the smugness through Scott’s voice as you look wildly across the room to Peter. He only hums, as if in question, no doubt reminiscing on the memories of last night as he sips his coffee, pleased.

You meet his eyes, desperately searching for something to say as he winks at you, strolling up behind the couch to inspect your underwear like he didn’t know whose they were.

Sighing in relief, you thought you were going to get away with it, the embarrassment slowly ebbing out of your head; that was until Peter’s voice piped up.

“Babe, I swear those are your panties, right?”

Okay, maybe Peter was a little bit of a jackass.

#peter maximoff #evan peters #quicksilver #xmen #evan peters masterlist #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff smut #quicksilver smut #xmen peter maximoff #evan peters x reader

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taintandviolent · 3 months

Text

Bitchin' ; Peter Maximoff x rollerskater!reader

summary: You always wear your silver rollerskates. But, when Peter Maximoff decides to check out the roller rink's arcade, and spots you... It's fate. At least, Peter thinks so. word count: 4.2K words! w a r n i n g s: brief use of Y/N, shameless smut, smut without plot, public fingering, public handjobs, dry humping, kissing, neck kissing. a/n: requested - I lost the original ask but the anon wanted a rollerskating reader who Peter was obsessed with! Honestly, this is my very first Peter fic so if there's anything that isn't in character or canon please mind your business and pretend you do not see it.

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

The disco ball twirled above, casting little squares of light over all the skaters like pieces of confetti. You grooved to the music while carefully maintaining your balance. The rink was buzzing with celebration; at least three birthdays amongst other parties were being held there.To you, it was merely another Saturday night. Skating had become more or less a therapeutic activity for you; it was a way to unwind after the day. The stresses floated away behind you as you circled the rink. Thankfully, it was also aerobic in nature, so you were getting your daily exercise in as you decompressed. Not to mention, it was funner than hell.

So, this wasn’t Peter’s usual hangout. But, the rink had a Centipede and a Dig Dug machine, so why not? The light from the machines blinked, reflecting off his eyes. New highscores were easily beaten when the bar was set so low. Come on! Did they even try!?

To his right, he heard a cacophony of giggles and chattering as a cluster of young girls sped his way, their hands full of drinks. To avoid a collision, Peter was forced to turn around, making way for the girls as they passed. And as he did, two flashes of silver caught his eye.

Those same two flashes of silver zipped around the rink, catching the neon lights from above. Peter’s dark eyes followed them as they circled and eventually, trailed up the shapely legs that they were attached to. You had a bangin’ body, that much was evident. He watched you as you skated around and around, your legs weaving in and out of each other with skill. You weren’t hugging the perimeter, scared like some of the other girls. You were confident, and in your own, bodacious skating world.

Nah, he thought. No way. But… What if fate is totally intervening, dude? What are the chances that I clock a girl with silver roller skates if it wasn’t meant to be? C’mon…

As his thoughts raced, you veered off from the throngs of skaters, heading towards the wall near the tables. Chalking it up to destiny, Peter couldn’t argue with himself any further. It was now or never. The moment to strike, the moment to make his move…was right now.

Your skates hit the wall with a thunk-thunk. Your drink was right where you left it, and still cold enough to sweat. As you sipped, you spotted a guy on a mission, making his way in your direction, maneuvering through people as they passed him. Silver hair? Silver… everything, really. Interesting coincidence. You turned around, unsure, but nobody else was seemingly aware of him. So, you weren’t mistaken, he was headed straight for you.

Once he got to you, he said two words. Two words.

“Bitchin’ skates.”

That same dorky smile that he wore as he made his way over to you was still plastered on his face as he stood in front of you now. The same one that, contrary to his probable assumption, you weren’t turned off by. Quite the opposite; you thought it was adorable, endearing even.

“Uhh…” You brought the plastic straw to your lips, buying yourself time. You sucked in a mouthful of soda, raising your eyebrows at him and he raised his back, grinning inwardly. Something about you had clearly caught his attention; he wasn’t leaving. Unfortunately for him, you were ten kinds of anxious and fourteen kinds of nervous when it came to talking to guys. You leaned over the wall, looking at his feet; a pair of silver shoes. You gulped down more soda, and pulled the straw from your lips.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, babe. Just cause I’m not skatin’ doesn’t mean I’m uncool.”

You sniggered, rocking back and forth on your skates. You set the soda down on the same table you retrieved it from and gave him your undivided attention. Even though you hadn’t really thanked him for the compliment, it didn’t matter, he wasn’t deterred. “So uh…” He leaned in, angling his face towards yours. Your gaze flitted to his lips for a nano-second, before you darted back up to his eyes. “My name’s Peter.”

He’d clearly expected you to tell him your name, but you remained silent, clamming up at the very heavy flirtation that he was laying on you. Had you really just forgotten your own name? Clearing his throat, Peter inched closer still, now practically leaning over the wall that separated the rink from the dining area.

“You come here often, nameless cutie?” Okay… that was cheesy. Too fast for you to notice, he rolled his eyes, silently chastising himself. Much to his delight though, you didn’t skate off, laughing hysterically, shucking him off like some idiot on the school yard. You stuck around and gave him a cutesy, coy little nod that went straight between his legs.

“Yeah… I do. Every Saturday night. Um… My name’s Y/N.”

“Guess I need to start comin’ around on Saturday nights…”

“Why’s that?” You questioned, pumping the straw in and out of the lid, the plastic creaking with the action. You knew the answer. You were willingly lining him up for a compliment that you’d let land real nicely. “Hm?”

“Well…” He shifted his weight, leaning his elbow on the railing. “Clearly all the babes come through on Saturday nights. Case in point.” He gestured to you with a nod of his head.

“Thanks,” you muttered to the floor. Some people scooted around you, bracing themselves on the wall. New skater, obviously. Peter paid them no attention; his gaze was iron-locked on you.

“For the compliment on your skates or that absolutely bogus pick-up line I just tried?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a blush crawling up your neck. “Both… actually. Silver has always been my favourite colour.”

Now Peter was the one blushing. “Was that a… compliment? Or uh…”

“Could be.”

“Could be?”

“Yeah.”

“What do I gotta’ do to make it one?”

You considered this. Really, he didn’t have to do anything more than what he’d already done. He was silvery and ultra-cute, and the way his lips curved up into a smile every time he looked at you had your knees turning to Jell-o. Plus, he was wearing a RUSH shirt. RUSH was cool.

“Skate with me.”

Say less, he thought. Before you had a chance to process it, Peter raced over to the rental counter, coming to a halt just before the swinging door. The girl behind it was too involved in a fashion magazine to attend to him - and if he was polite enough to wait, the speed at which she was gonna’ move would’ve been excruciating. Peter snatched a pair of skates in his size, tucked his shoes in one of the empty cubby holes and took off back towards you. You had just barely finished blinking by the time he was sitting at your table, arms folded on the railing.

When you opened your eyes, he was sitting instead of standing. You furrowed your brows and peeked over the wall. He was laced up, ready to go.

“How did you…”

You knew. Even though he hadn’t disclosed it and you hadn’t really seen him move, you knew. You’d heard about mutants, but the thought never captivated you enough to look too deeply into it. To you, they were just regular people – well, not regular people – but people all the same. People with lives, people with feelings.

But this guy… this guy was really cool.

“Well, come o–”

Again, before you’d even finished blinking, he was in front of you, cheesing. “You were saying?”

You weren’t sure how else to acknowledge his power, so you’d do it honestly. You nodded once and said: “Bitchin’.”

“Bitchin’,” he affirmed. “Bitchin’.”

You dipped forward, reaching for his fingers. His large hand was warm and inviting, and immediately enveloped yours. For a moment, the two of you didn’t move. The second he laced his fingers in between yours, your arm went numb, buzzing with electricity. You weren’t sure whether or not that was a part of his mutantness, or just… your own body responding to this very cute guy touching you. Probably the latter, but you weren’t about to sever the connection to discuss it.

Peter looked flushed, but masked it with a charming smile and a quirked silver eyebrow.

“Oh, we’re holdin’ hands now?”

“Well, yeah,” you started, dismissing it as though it was the most normal thing in the world. You beamed, flashing him a smile before pulling him into the flow of skaters. It was hard to imagine that you, with your utterly awkward sense of self, had suddenly taken the lead and were now in control of the situation. “You know how to skate?”

“Uh… sorta.”

“Well, here.” You spun around, now skating backwards. You held out your free hand, wiggling your fingers towards his. Peter did a double-take – was he really going to be holding both your hands? No questions asked? His already-fast heart thudded in his chest. This was too easy. Fate, man. It’s fate.

“Come on, don’t be shy. You had enough confidence to come up to me earlier… don’t back out now.”

“Wha-?! I’m so not!” He looked offended. You couldn’t help but laugh at that, and grabbed his hand at the wrist, pulling him closer to your body. You then noticed that his knees were locked in true beginner form. He looked stiff and slightly unsure.

“Relax, baby…” You cooed, coaxing him through the motions. “Just move with the groove…”

Slowly, Peter’s dilated eyes crawled up from his skates to yours, and up your divine lookin’ legs. They made their way up your torso before finally coming to a stop on your face. Inside, his heart was hammering against his ribs. Had you just called him baby? Baby? Hoh’ boy…

Peter composed himself from the impromptu melting you’d caused, he straightened up, relaxing his knees to push into the skates. As the two of you had abruptly picked up speed, you glanced behind you to make sure you weren’t going to run into anyone. Thankfully, he seemed to be navigating pretty masterfully. Peter had his bearings. In fact, thanks to his quick reflexes, he’d gotten his bearings approximately seventeen seconds ago, but you didn’t need to know that. That might’ve prevented the absolutely stellar physical contact he was experiencing now.

“Yeaaaaaahaaah, Peter! Just like that.” You cheered him on, happy to see that he was loosening up and moving in a much more natural way. For Peter, your smooth voice was doing wonders… but in the wrong way. Or the right way. No. Right way for the wrong situation. Okay, so what? Your syrupy, praising voice was going straight to his crotch.

“Hey, can we uh… Can we go faster?” He asked. You nodded, preparing yourself to take the lead, but before you could make the necessary changes in speed, Peter spun you around, snaking his arms around you from behind, hands resting gingerly on your abdomen, just above your hips. It was a risky move, he knew it, but it just felt so right to do… and after a few seconds, waiting on bated breath, no protests fell from your lips.You weren’t about to shoo him off, not with the way his grip was sending shivers up and down your spine.

“Ready?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. He continued moving his feet, skating them back and forth. With a quick motion that pressed his chest into your back, Peter took off, narrowly avoiding some dude in neon dolphin shorts. He pushed you, navigating both your bodies around the rink at record breaking speeds, speeds so fast that nobody else even registered you two moving. Around you, people were still moving, but slowly. So slowly. You were nothing but fluffs of air as you passed them. It was terrifying; you’d never moved that fast on roller skates in your life.

After a few laps, you gripped his veiny forearms pressing them tight against your hips. “Okay! Okay!”

Peter tipped his toes, letting the stops drag against the polished linoleum floors. You two slowed down abruptly until you were back in sync with the rest of the rink’s patrons. Your hair was wind-blown, tousled locks fluttering back into place.

“You okay?”

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “That was…”

“Wicked?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed, wetting your throat. You had some other choice words, but you weren’t about to crush his spirit. His toned chest was rising and falling into your back, and for a second, you leaned your head backwards onto his shoulder. You caught yourself in that embarrassing moment of weakness and jerked your head forward again. “S-sor–”

As quickly as you two had stopped, Peter pivoted you on your skates, and crushed his lips against yours, pressing into them tightly. His lips were warm and melted into yours, but the shock of the kiss had you frozen. After a few painstaking seconds, he pulled away, a look of terror plastered on his face. His eyes searched yours, desperately.

“Shoot… Did I totally misread that?”

You licked the remnants of him off your lips, humming in satisfaction. “No… no you didn’t.”

Peter bounced on his heels, nodded, and glanced at your lips again, wanting so desperately to be back against them, but he’d play it cool, and wait for you to make the next move.

“Peter, I um… think you’re really cute. But next time… can you give me a warning when we’re gonna’ go hyperspeed?”

“Next time?” He chuckled low, rubbing the back of his neck. He liked the implications that there’d be a next time. “Y-yeah, sure, babe.”

Silence fell between you two, and while neither of you spoke, a lot was being said. The way he gazed into your eyes, the way that you gazed back… that was the thing about chemistry. It found its way in, no matter how quiet you were. Your heart fluttered in your chest, your stomach muscles tightening instinctively as you looked at him. Peter’s strong hand flexed on yours, gripping your fingers and yanking them towards him. The stops on your skates bumped into his, knocking him backwards slightly.

“Peter...” you started, nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Yeah?” Bless him. The eager, almost desperate look in his dark brown eyes told you he was ready for whatever you were gonna’ throw his way. Preferably, another heated kiss.

You wanted to, desperately, but swallowed that fiery urge, suddenly hyper-aware of the people zipping around you. At present, no one was tossing insults your way, but if you two lingered on the rink any longer without skating, you suspected they would. Nervously, you chewed your lip. “We should probably um - get off the rink...”

He agreed with an excited but wordless nod, and towed you in the direction of the opening. Adjusting to the feeling of carpet beneath your feet, you moved behind him, thankful for his hand.

As you passed the video games, both of you stopped in front of one of the party rooms. This one, unlike the others, was off to the side, and dark. Inside, there was nothing but a table with some chairs, and a few leftover party decorations pinned to the walls. Both you and Peter stared at the empty room.

“Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“I dunno. Just what exactly are you thinkin, Peter?”

He smirked.

By the time you’d exhaled, Peter had twisted the handle, tugged you inside, and pressed your back gently against the door, shutting it. He hovered over you, face inches from yours, looking down at you with a wanton, heated gaze. With one hand flattened against the wall by your head, Peter flexed the muscles in his forearm, showing off just slightly.

“Hey,” you said, gazing up into his dark, inky pools.

“Hey back.”

You wasted no time in kissing him. This time though, you went at him with parted lips, exhaling over his lips. Peter moaned softly into your mouth, overcome by your scent and taste. Everything about you was unreal; from the way that you tilted your head to get close to him to the way that your fingers clawed at the front of his jeans, desperately hooking into his belt loops to pull him closer to your own hips. Coming up to you was the best decision he’d made in weeks. Maybe months. Maybe even friggin’ years.

Peter’s tongue swirled around yours, pausing to pepper softer kisses on your plush lips every few seconds. “Mmmm-hm…” Another eager kiss. “Babe, you’re totally…”

“What, bitchin’?” You finished for him, teasing.That had been the word of the night, seemingly.

In response, Peter kissed you again, pulling you in at the waist. He rutted his hips against you desperately, grinding his half-hard cock into your groin, hungrily seeking out friction. At the whisper of his powerful thrust, you paused, flattening both hands on his chest.

“Wait, lemme take off my skates,” you started. “I don’t want to fall…”

“If you do, I’ll catch ya’. Promise.”

The confident lilt in his voice was enough to make you trust him, or maybe it was the way that he completely wiped your stream of consciousness by brushing the bridge of his nose against the nape of your neck, peppering tiny kisses along the feverish flesh.

Peter bucked his hips against you again, forcing himself against your fingertips, pressing them into the denim. You took his enthusiastic dry humping as a green light, and unbuttoned his pants. You followed with the zipper, and you heard Peter mutter something under his breath. Whatever it was, it sounded massively excited.

“What was that?” You asked, coyly.

You wrestled with his jeans, fingers exploring deeper, slipping through a bush of silver and ventured further down, stopping only to take hold of his cock at the base. It was hot to the touch, and now, rock hard. Really…. You thought, smirking to yourself. His interest in you wasn’t superficial, this dude really wanted you. You gripped a little harder, watching intently as the muscles in his jaw feathered and clenched.

“I said uh, um… it was… Hoh’, babe…” You started stroking and Peter’s head lolled back between his shoulders, a broken moan hitching in his throat. “Hoh’ my god…”

You kept stroking him, your thumb massaging the veiny underside of his swollen cock. Every pass of your fingers brought another breathy whimper from deep within his throat, and your core tightened further. He was putty in your hands, desperate, whining and begging for more.

“Just like that, babe…” He bucked his hips rhythmically and brought his other hand to the door, bracing himself.

“Want me to go faster?”

He looked at you, quirking a brow as if to say, “Really?”

So you did. It took all of three seconds for Peter to start quivering above you, almost vibrating. Peter dropped one hand, his thick fingers dragging across the ruched elastic of your shorts, pads fluidly slipping over the satin fabric.

“Can I…” He paused, clearing his throat. “Can I touch her?”

You loved that he called her her. Cute. You exhaled a moan through your nose and bit down on the corner of your lip. Meeting his gaze again, you nodded excitedly. Peter’s hand pressed against your stomach and dove downwards, slipping over the front of your shorts. At first, he stroked her from the outside, feeling the warmth that radiated from between your folds. But he moved fast, in all ways, and soon, he craved a different sensation. Quickly finding the waistband of your shorts again, he dipped inside to find the hem of your underwear, pausing only to run his finger along it, before slipping past it.

“Ohhhh…” He groaned, feeling the blistering heat of your cunt, and the beginnings of the pre-cum that had made its way up to your folds. “Oh, okay. Silver really is your favourite color.”

You laughed into his neck, walking your feet out slightly to spread your cunt for him. His fingers grazed your clit, circling it delicately a few times before he moved to your slit, manipulating the wetness that greeted him and coated his fingers. Peter inserted his middle finger, pumping it in and out carefully a few times. You moaned through closed lips, a weak attempt at muffling the sounds, should anyone hear.

“Wanna’ see something cool?”

You, breathless and starting to sweat, nodded.

“Fffuck, you’re so wet… uh, sorry - okay. Prepare to be wowed.” He hoped. At least, he was fairly certain that you’d never experienced what he was about to do.

Half a second passed. Then Peter’s finger slid in and out of you so fast it almost felt mechanical, drilling into you at inhuman speeds. Your jaw dropped, pupils dilating. He wasn’t joking – but maybe selling himself short. You were a little more than wowed.

Abruptly, you pressed your ass against the door, pulling his slippery fingers from you. “St-stop, I’m gonna’ c-cum if you keep doing that.” Shocked at your honesty, you felt your face flush.

“Oh?” He slipped another finger in, murmuring happily at the way your slick walls clenched around them. Peter brought his thumb forward so that with every pump of his fingers, the pad of his thumb bumped into your puffy, tender clit. You couldn’t help but whine then, the dual-stimulation overwhelming your senses.

He continued, winding the coil in your tummy tighter and tighter. You moved into him just a little bit closer, plunging him in just a little bit deeper and wrapped your free arm around his broad shoulders, desperate to bring your bodies tighter together. Although his hand enveloped your pussy, you could feel the repeated grind of your own hand as you jacked him off.

Peter continued, mercilessly, delighted that he had you coming undone in front of him. Sweat streamed down your neck, winding its way down into your cleavage – which, by the way, he was absolutely devastated he couldn’t see. His gaze was locked on your tits then, watching as they rose and fell with each laboured breath you took. Suddenly, your hand went slack around his dick. You focused on nothing in particular as white hot flashes darted across your vision. Peter groaned into your neck as you came around his fingers, warm, wet…

Your knees buckled, the wheels of your skates rolling forward. Just as he promised, Peter caught you strongly with his free arm, and pinned you against the door with a soft thud. You gasped, gripping him hard, pleasuring him with a new found fervour. You stroked his cock with long, deliberate strokes, paying special attention to his reddened head. Pre-cum, lots of it, leaked from the slit, and you eagerly spread it until his whole cock was slippery. Peter squirmed against your body, his fingers still slipping in and out of you at high-speed.

“I’m gonna’... I’m gonna’....”

“Oh, so you cum fast too?”

Your teasing was all it took for Peter to lose it. Every muscle in his body clenched, his eyes rolled back as his dick spurted sticky, white ropes over your hand and into the fibres of his jeans. You loosened your grip, letting the natural throb of his cock bump into your stomach, leaking against your skin.

Knock. Knock.

In a nanosecond, Peter had both of your appearances returned to normal as though a mutual jerk-off session hadn’t just happened. But ohhhhhh, it had. It definitely had. Even though the boner had totally faded, his cock still felt like it was throbbing. He laced his fingers with yours, and threw open the door, pretending to search for the light switch.

“Hey, this room is off-limits…” The girl said, looking slightly annoyed. Peter recognized her; the same one from the rental booth. Guess she finally had to make her rounds.

“We were just – “ you stammered, trying to find a feasible excuse.

“Checking out the room for a party.” Peter interjected. “Is food provided?”

The girl seemed taken aback by such a simple question. “Uh… y-yeah. We do pizza or hot dogs.”

“Sick, thanks.”

With that, Peter yanked you from the room, skating back towards the arcade machines. You looked out towards the rink; it had slowed down substantially, and likely, would close soon. Time had flown while you were in there with him.

Once you two had stopped, you turned to him, running a single finger down the front of his shirt. It was still damp and warm with his sweat. A small smile curled its way onto your pink lips.

“You got a pen?”

Thwip. Thwip. He was back, fingers wrapped around a blue pen, which he held out to you proudly. With a satisfied smile, you took his hand, flipped it over, and wrote your number on the inside of his palm, near the meat of his thumb.

“Call me?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Not maybe. He was for sure gonna’ call you. He’d call you the second he got home – well, no. Maybe not because he’d get home way before you. But. He shook his head slightly, dislodging the distraction.

If Peter had his way, he’d bust his next nut inside of you.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser

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#okay okay okay I'm nervous as HECK but here it is!!!! i hope the anon who requested this sees this!!! thank you guys for bein so supportive!#Peter Maximoff x reader #Peter Maximoff x you #Peter Maximoff #Quicksilver #Pietro Maximoff #myfics #requests

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xmcu-fietro · 2 years

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just once, to draw a parallel between Peter and his love of listening to music while he uses his powers, I think we should have gotten an “Erik using metallokinesis” scene set to classical music

#like he pops in a cassette from a cassette player he’s borrowing from Peter and BOOM the metal starts floating #(he’s borrowing the cassette player because Peter insisted that ‘music education’ was crucial for their father-son bonding)#bonus if it’s liquid metal because that would be so pretty #peter maximoff #quicksilver #erik lehnsherr #magneto #dadneto

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frankenkyle19 · 4 months

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Glitter On The Floor After The Party

description/warnings: Peter x reader at a New Year’s Eve party, Peter admits that he’s never had a New Year’s kiss and against better judgement, reader decides to give him one. Smut, unprotected sex, oral (male and fem receiving), teasing, just a bunch of tenderness and it’s so cute okay thanks bye

Based off of the amazing request I got from our lord and savior @silverzoomies I hope you enjoy it and I hope it lives up to your expectations!!

word count: 4.6k

Loving you,

Isn’t the right thing to do

How Can I

Ever change things that I feel?

If I could

Baby, I’d give you my world

The soft background music of Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” played amongst the chatter and laughs of conversation across the room. You stood leaning against the wall, sipping on a solo cup of lemonade as you did one of your favorite things. People watching.

You didn’t like to be in the middle of a conversation, but listening to it from the outside was something you did enjoy. You didn’t try to snoop, if someone was having a conversation they obviously intended to keep hush hush, you moved on to listen to a louder, carefree conversation instead.

What day was it again? Why were you at a party? Oh right, it was New Year’s eve and Charles had decided to host a party at the school for the mutants and others who resided there. As a way to celebrate the progress that had been made in the last year and to hope for a good year to come.

You never really felt like you fit in with the other mutants. Sure you had a power, and if that’s what people thought deemed you a mutant, then yes, you were one. You wouldn’t even consider it a power, it was more of a curse. A turn off to just about all men who found out about it one way or the other, despite it not affecting them in any way. They just saw you as different and decided you weren’t worth the time of day. Too much work. Whatever.

Speaking of time, that had everything to do with your power. You were able to slow down time, practically freeze something in the moment.Unlike a certain silver speedster who was able to move at the speed of light, you were only able to freeze a moment for a certain amount of time, and it took a lot of focus. It was a dumb power, you always thought so, and you weren’t sure it would ever even be useful to the x-men, despite protests from Charles that everyone is important in their own way. Sounded like a load of bull shit.

Figures that one of your only friends was the silver haired speedster himself. Your powers were similar but yet so different, and sometimes it led to arguments between the two of you. You always managed to get over it though.

Peter Maximoff was one of the first friends you’d made when you joined. Around your age, a cocky super speedy mutant definitely caught your eye.

The two of you had been friends for a few months now and had gotten closer quicker than you imagined. Peter and you staying up late to have secret movie marathons, with him always insisting you rewatch Star Wars despite your strong dislike for rewatching movies when you could watch new ones. You did it anyway, being with Peter suddenly made those movies bearable, as if he possessed some other kind of power than his super speed. The power to make any situation a little more bearable.

You hadn’t seen Peter yet tonight, strangely, and wondered if maybe he wouldn’t be attending. He had no reason not to but as you wracked your brain for an answer, you couldn’t come up with one. Odd. Maybe he was with his family? His mother and little sister? Perhaps he enjoyed spending time with them more. Psssh of course he did, that was his family that he loved, so why suddenly did you feel so jealous.

Finishing the last of your lemonade you made your way back over to the drinks table to pour yourself something stronger. Maybe a little rum and coke would solve all your problems. Hell, maybe you’d even be able to chill out enough to find someone to hook up with. Lord knows you needed it. You’d been unusually uptight lately and the only thing you could think of was the fact that you hadn’t been laid in a milenia.

It wasn’t like you to do the dirty with some person who you didn’t even know, but if the night led up to that, you’d have no qualms as long as said person knew where the clit was and how to make you feel good. Was that too much to ask for?

You were knocked out of your thoughts when a harsh breeze whipped by you, followed by the slight color of silver.

Peter… So he was here.

A few seconds later and your cup was snatched from your hands and in the hands of someone else who sipped from it. When he put the cup down you saw his familiar deep brown eyes and silver hair. You would be annoyed at the fact that he’d stolen your drink if it wasn’t for the fact that you were actually quite happy he’d finally showed up.

For being a speedster, he sure was late to a lot of things. Odd, wasn’t it?

“Miss me?” He asked, snatching a cookie from the table and biting into it, a few crumbs cascading down onto his Pink Floyd shirt. He obviously didn’t care as he took another bite and the same thing happened. His silver eyebrows were raised, waiting on an answer from you.

What had he asked again? Oh right, if you missed him…

“I thought you weren’t coming,” You said, avoiding his question. Had you missed him? You weren’t really sure the answer to his question. It was something you’d have to ponder on for a while.

“Where else would I be on New Year’s Eve?” He asked, finishing off his cookie and scanning the table no doubt for what he’d eat next.

“I don’t know, maybe your mom’s place?” You shrugged. To be honest you didn’t know, you were just guessing.

“Nope, her and my lil’ sis are at a friend's house celebrating I think. I wasn’t invited. No one wants a freak at their new years party, right?” He chuckled, but you knew inside he didn’t find it very funny.

“Maybe they didn’t want you stealing anything-” You teased, trying to lighten the mood, and it seemed to work. Peter laughed once more, real this time as he shook his head.

“Yeah that’s probably it, never thought of that. Yer a genious” He said, and you noticed another cookie in his hand, already half eaten.

You took this chance to get a good look at the man in front of you. The silver haired mutant of which you harbored a very secret obsession. How could you not? Anyone who didn’t was either lying or blind. He was perfect in so many ways. From the way his silver hair sometimes fell into his face, to the way his brown eyes sparkled whenever he saw you.

As much as you’d love for something to happen between the two of you, the risk was just too high. You couldn’t in good intention do anything and risk your friendship with the speedster. It was too risky.

Still, sometimes the way he looked at you had you wondering how he felt. Where his feelings lay. Was there something more or were you reading too far into it all? Probably the latter…

You glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. Thirty minutes till midnight. Thirty minutes till the new year. It felt so close but seemed to be an eternity away. You wondered what this new year would bring you. What you’d accomplish within the x-men. Maybe you’d find a more useful way to use your powers. One could only hope.

While you were zoned out on the clock Peter had stuffed multiple things into his mouth and now when you turned back to him you saw the corners of his lips were covered in white cream. Jesus…

You raised a brow, shaking your head as you brought your thumb up to wipe the corners of his mouth before wiping said thumb on the sleeve of his silver jacket, much to his dismay.

Peter let out a quiet chuckle and the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background. It felt as if the rest of the world had slowed around the two of you but you knew for certain you weren’t using your powers right now. It was just the effect Peter had on you. Damn it was strong.

Peter met your eyes before looking away and if you weren’t so distracted by the way his hair fell in perfect waves over his forehead, you’d have seen the way his cheeks darkened and the way he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, clearing his throat.

The odd wave of feeling faded between the two of you and it went back to normal. You chatted and laughed over drinks until the both of you were tipsy, you much more so than Peter considering his metabolism, and by then it was only two minutes until midnight.

The rest of the party had party poppers and noise makers in their hands, read for the clock to turn to 12:00, but you and Peter were still talking to each other, too caught up in conversation to get with the flow of things.

“You know, I’ve never had a New Year's kiss.” Peter blurted out, setting his solo cup down to look at you. His expression was soft and you could see the way his body was burning through the alcohol he’d drank as if it was nothing.

What an odd thing to tell your friend two minutes before midnight. I mean, he wasn’t insinuating anything, surely? He was known to over share many things, including the women he’d had sex with, which keep in mind had not been many these days, and the pornos he’d rented that week. That’s just the kind of dude he was. Absolutely no shame in his game.

You let out a surprised chuckle. Quicksilver had never had a New Year’s kiss? Such an odd thing for him to have not experienced.

“That’s a shame.” Was all you said, setting down your own cup, the drink in it now long gone and deep in your system.

Peter seemed surprised by your response, as if he was expecting you to reassure him and tell him you hadn’t had a New Year’s kiss either, but that hadn’t been the case.

He opened his mouth to speak once more when people began to cheer around you. 11:59. 60 seconds…

Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he chuckled, wishing he hadn’t just told you about his lack of New Year’s Eve smooching.

30 seconds. The pull to Peter was so much stronger now, as if the universe was pushing you together like opposite sides of a magnet.

25 seconds.

Why did you feel this way? Jesus Christ what was wrong with you? Surely you wouldn’t…

15….

The faint sound of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here could be heard and you were surprised that Peter hadn’t pointed it out yet, considering he was at the moment wearing a Pink Floyd shirt..

How I wish,

How I wish you were here

We’re just two lost souls

Swimming in a fishbowl

Year after year…

10…

No you couldn’t

9…

Get it together!

8…

He’s just your friend! Nothing more!

7…

But god the way he looked at you..

6…

No, Don’t give in. Don’t ruin what you already have

5…

Fuck. Screw it. Screw it all.

With a heavy breath you grabbed Peter by the front of his jacket and pulled him down into a kiss. He hadn’t expected it and to be fair neither had you. Time did seem to slow around the two of you now as you felt a surge of electricity crackle through the air between you as Peter finally knocked himself out of his dazed confusion and kissed you back.

4…

His lips were so soft

3..

You could find yourself getting used to this.

2..

He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as you wrapped your own around his neck

1..

A deep breath, never breaking the kiss and there it was.. Peter’s New Year’s kiss. Finally, he had what he wanted, and so did you.

Once it hit midnight the two of you didn’t break away. You pulled at each other, urging the other to come closer. You wanted to crawl into each other's skin, get as close as possible. You didn’t care who saw, who judged. The only thing that mattered in that moment between you two was the other.

You felt Peter’s Hardness against your inner thigh as you leaned against him, coaxing a moan from his puffy lips as he glanced down at you, swallowing hard. That was all the warning you got before he sped the two of you off, time slowing back down once you were both safely in his room at the school. It was just as oddly decorated as his basement-room at his moms house. Obscure posters and gaming machines like Pinball and pac-man.

Peter attacked your neck with his lips, urging you towards his unmade bed before pushing you down onto it. Rushed and messily he tore off his jacket and shirt, tossing it to the floor. He paused, glancing down at you beneath him.

“I- is this okay?” He asked, his hands creeping up under your shirt and tickling your rib cage with his long, slender fingers.

“More than okay,” you laughed out. Yea, it was way more than okay. What wasn’t okay was the fact that he stopped. That just wouldn’t do.

You glanced down at the ever growing bulge in the front of his too-tight jeans before your hand cupped him gently, causing him to jut into the feeling.

“Shit- really? We’re really doing this?” He asked, grinding his lower half into your hand for more friction.

You used your free hand to pull him down into another kiss full of teeth and tongue, gently massaging his length through his clothing, causing small whimpers and whines to fall from his parted lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck yeah we’re really doing this, here- just-“ you urged him off of you until the two of you had switched positions, Peter laying against the bed, you leaning over him.

“Please-“ He mewled, looking up at you with his desperate dark brown eyes, begging for the slightest touch.

Hearing him beg was music to your ears and as much as you wanted to get him to beg more, you were also impatient and wanted to tear his clothes from his body. You’d waited too long for this, you were not going to waste a second.

You palmed him over his clothing one more before undoing the zipper and button on his jeans, trying to get them down his legs.

“Peter- a little help?” You asked, brow raised as you glanced at him.

Peter, who had previously been in his own little world refocused on you, jumping at the sound of his name coming from your lips. It took him a moment to register what you were asking from him and then, the clumsy idiot he was, in a desperate attempt to kick off his pants, he ended up kicking you off the bed.

Landing with a thump you gasped, not expecting it and not being able to do anything to prevent it. You peeked up over the edge of the bed to find a mortified Peter who was frozen in place with his pants halfway off his legs as he looked at you.

“Shit- are you okay? I’m so sorry oh my god-“ He helped you back on the bed and despite your giggles and light reassurance he felt bad.

“Let me make it up to you?” His tone dropped at this and you knew he had an idea. A devilish idea. He picked you up like you were nothing and laid you back on the bed, settling between your legs as he carefully hiked up your shirt until it had revealed your bra, and inside of said bra, your bomb ass titties.

Peter would never lie, and your boobs were absolutely smoking. He was a tits expert after all, from watching hours of pornos, he’d still never seen one’s as pretty as yours, and he had an idea that it was probably because they were yours, and he was now beginning to realize his true feelings for you were much more than just ‘friends’

He practically ripped off your pants, tossing them onto the ground next to his own clothes before his hands traced your thighs.

Your panties were soaked and you were sure there was a wet spot on them that Peter would soon see. It was embarrassing how fast he had gotten you so worked up.

And just like you expected, Peter’s eyes locked onto your clothed cunt, nearly drooling as his thumb brushed over the wet spot in your panties.

The touch felt electric and so, so damn good which was ridiculous because he’d barely touched you at all.

He gently rubbed his thumb across your clothed clit, loving the way that you reacted to his touch.

“Poor thing, need quickie to make you feel good?” He chuckled devilishly and you so badly wanted to kick him. Now was not the time to tease.

“Peter! Please!” You huffed, wriggling around underneath him as he slowly and teasingly pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder. He parted your thighs further to give him better access to your core.

His pupils seemed to dilate as he zoned in on your throbbing cunt and with a shaky breath he leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue.

Your hands found their way to his hair as you tugged gently on the silver strands, urging him closer.

Peter got the hint and buried his face further into your pussy, moaning at your taste and wetness. All for him.

It had always been all for him.

His pink tongue jabbed at your clit several times before his lips gently wrapped around the nub, sucking gently, but enough that you could feel it. Hell could you feel it.

Your head fell back into the pillows, unable to keep it up anymore as your legs quivered around Peter’s head. The sight was heavenly. A head of silver hair lapping at your cunt, dark brown eyes glancing up at you as he flicked his tongue inside of you before pulling out to give attention to your clit.

You were surprised by how well he actually ate you out. Most men you’d been with were messy and not in a good way, totally missing any points of pleasure down there, but Peter. God was he good at it.

He continued his actions, speeding up every now and then until your whines became more desperate and your hips bucked up against his face. Somehow, without ever being together intimately, Peter just knew your tell tale signs that you were close. Maybe the porn had paid off.

“Peter!” You squealed as he pulled away for what felt like the fifteenth time. Your body was shaking with pleasure and a layer of sweat covered your skin, making you glisten.

“What baby girl? What’s wrong? Doesn’t it feel so nice?” He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh as he teased you, his palms rubbing over your knees as he peeked up at you through his eyelashes.

You totally wanted to kick him right now. He was being such an ass.

“Peter! Please- fuck I was so close! This isn’t fucking funny anymore!” You groaned, urging his head back down to your pussy and finally he followed your lead.

He let you guide him back to your core and he began to lap away at it once more, closing his eyes as he moaned against you. His tongue moved inhumanly fast and it was quite literally the best thing you’d ever felt. Better than any store bought vibrator that was available.

“Fuck! Oh s-shit Peter- feels so good please don’t stop- please please don’t stop this time baby please-“ you begged, holding him by his hair, tugging hard on it as he groaned, open mouthed against you.

With a few more flicks of his tongue and sucks against you, you were cumming, your release coating Peter’s lips and chin as he did his best to clean you up, moaning against you.

Eventually you had to pull him away because he was so lost in your taste. Carefully you pulled him up by his silver locks, seeing the fucked out, happy expression on his face.

“So fucking good-“ he wiped his mouth on his arm before sitting up a bit, coming to himself as he finally got enough oxygen.

Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt and bra fully off, finally being fully naked before you pulled Peter into another kiss, getting on top of him.

He looked up at you with the softest brown puppy dog eyes he could muster, chest heaving as he let a quiet whine slip past his lips.

“Definitely getting much more than a New Year's kiss.” You laughed, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down while keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

“Fuckkk- please touch me- I’m literally throbbing baby you’ve got no idea how much I need you-“

“I think I have some idea,” you gently wrapped your hand around his red leaky cock once his boxers were off, and the sound that Peter made was something straight out of a porno.

“Shhh, Peter you’re really loud-“ you shook your head as you thumbed over the tip of him, watching as your thumb spread the opaque fluid across his pretty pink head.

“Really really want a new years kiss somewhere else-“ Peter panted, despite how desperate he was he was still cracking jokes. Of course. You wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but you had a better idea.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned down, face to face with his throbbing dick as you pressed a soft feather light kiss to the tip, watching the way Peter’s breath hitched the second you did.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and it was everything you ever wanted and more. Finally, after all this time. You had him. He was yours.

“Oh f-fuck I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna cum-“

“Peter I’ve barely touched you-“ your brows furrowed at his admission, honestly surprised. You had gotten him that worked up from barely touching him? To be fair he had done quite the same thing to you previously.

“Don’t- wanna cum yet- wanna fuck you please?” He asked, batting his eyes in a much too innocent way for how sinful the situation was.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to fuck you. As much as you wanted to explore his body, there would be time for that later. You too had all the time in the world now.

He pulled you down with him onto the bed as he tried to manhandle you down onto your back and before you knew it he was over top of you, leaning in between your legs, nudging your core with the tip of his cock.

“Can I?” He asked, looking up at you, his hair a disheveled mess of silver on top of his head.

“No condom?” You asked, brushing your thumb across his cheek as he shyly nodded, not meeting your eye, his next words surprising you.

“I-if that’s okay- I saw you were on birth control I was snooping around your room the other da-“

“Wait, pause right there, you were snooping around my room? Peter!” You shoved at his shoulder, an annoyed look settled on your face “what’s wrong with you? Creep!”

Peter put his hands up in surrender as he blushed hard, becoming shy now at his confession.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious! You know me! I'm a snoop!”

“Peter I cannot believe you right now but- dammit, yes. Yes just fuck me already please or im going to explode.”

Peter chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly slipped inside of you, your slick mixed with his saliva from Peter’s previous actions with his tongue making him glide inside easily.

The both of you gasped in unison at the feeling of being so close together in such an intimate setting. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. There was almost no pain, despite how deeply he was stretching you out. It was like the two of you were meant for each other.

You clutched onto Peters shoulders as he gave a few experimental thrusts into you, shaky breaths mingling together in the air between your bodies.

Peter breathed out your name through a moan and you were sure it was the most magical sound you had ever heard and would ever hear.

“Fuck- to be fair I had no idea this was how the night was going to turn out-“ Peter cursed, sweat forming on his brow, not from exhaustion but from pleasure and the restraint it took to hold himself back from fucking you so hard the bed broke.

You laughed lightly, moaning as he hit a spot even deeper inside of you before pulling back out and repeating his actions.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Perfect way to start the New Year in my opinion.” You grinned before your smile was replaced with a gasp as Peter began to speed up his thrusts.

You didn’t fail to miss the way that his body vibrated with each thrust, fucking into you with purpose as he planted kisses and love bites all across your neck and shoulders before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth.

He hummed around the hardened bud before letting go of it with a pop.

“I just gotta say baby- these titties- you’ve been hiding them from me for tooooo long. They are bangin!” You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his choice of words.

“F-fuck-“ he cursed again, his thrusts becoming erratic as he fucked into you with a kind of desperation you’d never seen from him before.

You didn’t even need him to tell you, you just nodded in understanding, biting your bottom lip between your teeth.

The two of you were close and your bodies were racing to the finish, chasing your euphoric highs.

“I-I-I’m-“ he choked out, unable to form the words.

“Shh, shh I know Peter, I know, me too.” You reassured him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place and making him go farther inside of you, surely bruising your cervix.

Peter froze against you, humping against you twice more before stilling, filling you up with his warm seed.

The feeling finally threw you over the edge, your body seizing against his, arching up against him before collapsing limply back against the sheets.

The two of you caught your breath before Peter pulled out and laid next to you, tracing your stomach with his finger.

“Holy shit- that- Jesus that was- wow-“ Peter couldn’t find the words as he stared at you in disbelief.

You didn’t really have the words either so you just looked up at him and said,

“Happy New Year’s Peter.”

And he simply responded with

“Happy New Years.”

Maybe this new year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#evan peters #evan peters icons #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff fanfiction #xmen quicksilver #xmen #new year #evan peters characters #evan peters smut #evan peters fanfic

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wh0re43van · 2 months

Text

And they were roommates (Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Description: You and Peter are long time best friends and now roommates. Things take a weird turn when he admits that he found your sex toy drawer.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving)

A/n: this is based off this request! I’m sorry if this isn’t up to your expectations, I’ve been having writers block. I’ve also been a bit inactive bc college rawdogging me without lube rn :/ (also I left this open to possibly a pt 2 with pegging Peter?? 🙊)

Peter sits on the edge of the couch clad in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, playing that mindless video game that he loves so much. His skilled fingers move in a blur across the plastic controller, the sound of the rapid clicks on the joy stick and buttons are drowned out by the blaring music coming out of the stereo. The music is so loud in fact, that the boy doesn’t hear you stumble into your shared home, dropping groceries and cursing at him as you stagger towards the table.

“Goddamnit Peter!” You groan after dropping off the bags of food, stomping into the living room as you dodge empty bottles of soda and dirty clothes on the floor. “Peter!” You gripe, now completely out of patience. But Peter is so fixed on the game and the music is so loud that he isn’t even aware of your arrival.

You let out an irritated sigh before ripping the cord to the stereo out of the wall. “Peter Maximoff!” You shout, crossing your hands over chest. He jumps a bit, startled by your sudden appearance, but soon enough his signature smirk is plastered on his stupid face.

“Hey babe! Where’ve you been?” He asks nonchalantly-choosing to ignore your obviously pissed off stature- as he shifts his attention back to the video game.

“Are you- oh my god,” you groan, completely exasperated as you pinch the bridge your nose. “I’ve been out for three hours getting shit for my party tonight. The one thing I asked you to do was clean up this mess!” You pace infront of the tv like a disappointed mother- a feeling you’ve become all too familiar with since renting an apartment with your man-child of a best friend.

“I don’t think four girls in their 20s getting wine drunk and talking shit for hours on end counts as a party,” Peter snickers before he zooms around you, now between you and the television with his nose nearly pressed to the screen in attempt to finish his game. Your blood is boiling at at this point.

“Beats locking yourself in your room and playing with your dick to those old VHS tapes you still have from high school,” you roll your eyes. “Atleast get with the times and use the internet,” you add with your lips pulled taught in an unamused line, you reach down to unplug the console. Peter of course grabs your hand before you reach the plug, his eyes still glued to the screen.

“And abandon my girls? Come on babe, don’t be ridiculous. We have history!” Peter snickers, unfazed by your attempt to humble and embarrass him.

Peter finally beats the level, sounding off the victory music. With a proud smile, he sits down the controller, finally giving you his attention. “Plus, don’t act like I don’t know about your drawer of toys. Neither one of us are getting laid,” Peter laughs casually as he walks back over to the couch, leaving you with wide eyes and blushed cheeks.

“What the fuck! H-how-Peter! Dude! What-what the actual fuck!” You look at him dumbfounded, now twice as furious and extremely embarrassed.

“Oh, so you can go through my stuff, but I can’t go through yours?” He smirks as he takes a swig of soda out of a two liter bottle, looking at you with pure amusement on his face.

“I-I don’t go through your stuff, Peter!” You shriek, looking down at your feet in attempt to escape his gaze. When you do, you notice a bright orange plastic rectangle on the ground amidst various snack cake wrappers. “Th-there’s a tape literally laying right here!” You chuck the VHS at him, he catches it, sitting it on the couch beside him.

“Alright you’ve got me,” Peter holds his hands up in defense with playful grin. “But you can’t blame me for snooping. You don’t exactly make an effort to keep quiet. Our rooms are right across from each other ya know,” he chuckles as he settles into the couch, wiping his Cheeto covered fingers on his grey sweatpants. “So yeah, maybe I was curious to see the loud ass vibrator that you abuse most nights of the week, and maybe I found a lot more than I was looking for,” Peter laughs at how red your face is. He’s clearly enjoying your utter humiliation.

You feel mortified. You can’t believe he would just reveal that he knows you about your dirty habits so casually. Had he seen everything?

‘Why would I keep everything on the same place,’ you internally facepalm as you imagine Peter digging through your underwear draw to see your Hitachi, the vibrating dildo, the strap.

‘Jesus Christ does he know I have a strap on?’ Panic begins to set it. ‘How long has he known about this?’ Your mind is racing almost as fast as your heart.

You swear you’ve never felt so embarrassed in your life. Despite the snow on the ground outside, you feel like your skin is on fire. You’re a clammy, stuttering mess that wants nothing more than to vanish into thin air, but you can’t even will yourself to move.

“Y-you can hear it?” Is all you dare to ask sheepishly, your eyes still wide in horror at the conversation that’s unfolding between you and your best friend.

“Mhm,” Peter snickers as he stands up, nonchalantly stretching and flexing all the muscles in his bare torso. You think for a moment that he might be flexing on purpose as he walks over to inspect the groceries you’ve brought home. “And I Gotta say,” Peter hums as he pops open the new box of twinkies you got for your party. “I’m really not impressed with the settings on that thing,” he says through a mouth full of yellow sponge cake.

You don’t know what to think of the situation. You wrack your brain trying to figure out what he’s playing at, but to no avail. He seems to be amused more than anything; at the very least he doesn’t think any less of you.

You sigh, walking over to the boy, prying the blue hostess box out of his hands. “T-these are for tonight, Peter,” you make a meek attempt of scolding him, but you can’t even look him in the eyes right now as you trip over your words. This only fuels Peters teasing.

“I’m serious babe,” he grins as he slowly rests his hands on either side of you. His bare biceps and chest tense as he grips onto the table, trapping you right in front of him. “I can show ya real speed if you’d let me,” his voice is low and silky smooth as he lets out a small laugh. You blink at him, not sure if you’re understanding him right.

“I-uh…well… if-I uhm-” Your voice is shaky as you stare up at him with wide eyes. At this point you’re sure that your face is as red as those cherry slushies that Peter always gets from the corner store.

“Am I making you nervous?” Peter asks as he leans ever so slightly closer to you. His sultry tone sends heat straight to your core.

“N-no,” you whimper. As if your tone didn’t give you away, you instinctively pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You’re such a bad liar,” he says lightly as puts a gentle hand on your face, his thumb pulls your lip out from under your teeth. “This always gives it away,” Peter hums.

You feel ridiculous at how worked up Peter has managed to get you. You chalk it up to being dick deprived and attempt to pull yourself together before you literally start drooling. But before you speak, Peters next words make your mind go blank.

“These pretty lips of yours are always getting you in trouble, huh?” Peters voice is husky as he drags you lip down with his thumb, focusing on your mouth with a lust laced gaze.

He’s right. Your entire time growing up together your nervous habit of chewing on your lip has always gotten you caught in your lies. It’s a little weird to think about all the adolescent trouble you and Peter got into as he’s standing only inches away from you; very obviously not that little boy anymore. No, Peter is definitely a man now- his mind may not have matured past 15, but his body absolutely has.

He brings his other hand to the back of your head as he steps closer to you. You can feel his warm breath fanning on your face, as your knees begin to go weak.

“Okay Peter that’s enough teasing. You got me. j-just clean up your mess so I can get ready for my party,” you say quietly as you examine his face, taking in how truly handsome your best friend is.

“Oh come on, we have time,” he smiles. That seductive tone is one you never thought you’d hear from Peter, and it’s definitely going to get you in trouble.

Peter dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours, making your breath hitch. Butterflies erupt in your stomach from the small contact. He teases his lips over yours, gently ghosting over the skin as if testing the waters.

The moment your lips touch, you’re a goner. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into an intense kiss. Peter laughs into the exchange as he grabs onto your hips.

You never thought of Peter in this way in all the years that you’ve known him. Sure, he’s an objectively attractive guy- anyone can see that- but he’s just never really been ‘your type’ and aside from casual flirting like he does with every woman he comes into contact with, he never showed any romantic interest in you- as far as you were aware at least. But right now, you’re completely desperate for your best friend.

The kiss quickly becomes anything from innocent as Peter grabs your ass, sitting you up on the table so he can stand between your legs. Your hands run through his hair, tugging on the silver stands as his grips onto your lower back, keeping you as close to him as possible.

Reality sets in as his lips trail down your neck where he stops to nip at sensitive skin. As you catch your breath you stutter, “W-what are we doing Peter? Are we really gonna risk our friendship just because neither of us have gotten laid in a while?”

While you are concerned for your platonic dynamic, you just can’t bring yourself to push him away. His warm lips on your skin and his strong grip on your body is too intoxicating.

“We aren’t risking anything, dude,” Peter smiles into the crook of your neck as his hands run up your thighs, his fingers disappearing under the hem of your short dress. “Just two friends helping eachother out. Nothing wrong with that,” he hums. You’re silent for a moment, considering his words.

Peter Steps aways from you, leaving you to whimper at the lack of contact.

“But if you don’t want this, I understand. I won’t press-“ he begins with a small grin as he continues to slowly back away. Without thinking, your hand shoots out, almost causing you to fall off the table. You grip his arm as you look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Please Peter,” is all you have to say before he’s back on you. Smashing his kiss bruised lips to yours.

Unbeknownst to you, Peter has been waiting for this moment for awhile. He wasn’t ‘totally in love with his best friend’ but you are the one person who knows him better than anything and his domestic partner and you’re smokin hot and he hears you masturbate in the room beside him a couple times a week- not to mention he hasn’t been with a woman in months. I mean, can you blame the guy?

You let out a small gasp as peters fingers brush against your clothed core. He gives you mischievous grin as he pulls you to the very edge of the table.

“Let’s get these out of the way,” he breaths as he slowly wraps his fingers around the waist band of your silk underwear. With in half a second, the thin fabric is gone- where to? You have no idea.- and Peter is on his knees below you, admiring your exposed core. “You must really be desperate. Damn,” the boy chuckles as he collects some of your wetness on his finger. You groan, kicking him in the arm gently. But you can’t argue with him.

“Ugh Peter if you’re going to-“ before you can finish whining, Peter has his arms wrapped around your thighs and mouth attached to your swollen clit, licking like his life depends on it. You let out a loud gasp at the sudden intense stimulation.

“At least now I know how to shut you up,” Peter chuckles against your core. Caught up in your own pleasure, you grab his hair and grind into his face. Peter let’s out a hum of satisfaction before he slips a finger in your entrance.

“Fuck,” you groan, throwing your head back. Peter is having the time of his life, struggling not to cum in his pants from how erotic you are. I mean yeah, he knew you were hot but he never would have guessed just how sexy your moans are or how good you taste. Call him a munch, but Peter could suffocate right here between your legs and die a happy man.

“Just like that Peter. Please don’t stop,” you pant out lowly, moving your hips faster against his face. You look down to see Peter who is already staring up at you. His silver strands of hair tickle the inside of your thighs as he laps at your clit desperately. The image of your best fiends head between your legs triggers a flash of embarrassment and guilt, but that’s soon forgotten as soon as you feel it.

Peter begins to vibrate his tongue as he sucks on your clit, his fingers curling directly into your g-spot with every thrust.

“Peter!” You shriek, pulling his hair. The sensation is nothing like you’ve felt before. You quickly melt into his touch as you revel in the pure pleasure shooting through every nerve in your body.

Peter replaces his tongue with his thumb before breathlessly pulling you into a kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, your legs beginning to shake from how much pleasure is flooding you system.

“I want you to cum for me,” Peter growls against your lips. You whine into the kiss as you clench around his fingers. The tightly wound rubber band in your stomach finally snaps, releasing intense euphoria through your body. “That’s it. Good girl, fuck, just like that,” Peter coos into your ear as the unholiest string of profanities he’s ever heard falls from your kiss bruised lips. You collapse into his chest, your legs shaking, head spinning, chest heaving.

“You okay?” Peter chuckles as he rests a hand on your back. You simply nod your head, trying to catch your breath. After a minute or so of recovery, you open your mouth to speak but are quickly interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. You jump up from the table, looking at Peter in horror as your release drips down your legs.

“My friends,” you gasp. Peter chuckles as he gently stands you to your feet.

“We’re not done here,” your best friend winks before he’s gone with a fwip.

In a Silver Blur, Peter zooms around the apartment. Within five seconds, the living room is spotless, the groceries are put away, and there are four glasses of wine are poured and set at the table with an organized array of the snacks you’d bought.

“Come on in ladies, y/n is in the kitchen,” Peter answers the door, allowing your friends into your home.

“Ew, why is your face wet?” One of the girls ask Peter as they turn the corner into the kitchen.

“And where’s your shirt?” Another girl asks as they exchange confused glances with each other.

“Oh-“ Well I guess Peter forget a couple crucial pieces of evidence. He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. “What’s with the interrogation girls?” Peter chuckles as he holds his hands up.

Your face goes red in embarrassment as you walk over to great your group of friends on shaky legs- and with a bare core since you couldn’t seem to find your panties anywhere.

“Sorry, ignore him. Peters just leaving,” You smile at your friends then give peter a death glare.

“Oh, y/n, let me know once your little party is over. We need to finish that conversation,” he winks as he picks up a snack cake off the bar. As he ascends up the steps, you see your purple panties hanging out the pocket of his grey sweatpants. You send a silent prayer to every all-powerful incorporeal being you can think of that your friends did not see Peter with your underwear.

“Y/n, are you okay? What’s with-“ one of your friends begin to question.

“Wine!?” You cut her off as you offer-more or less force her to take- a glass of Pinot Grigio which thankfully is enough to shift the conversation.

You’re left in anticipation the rest of the night, half temped kick the girls out just so you and Peter can finish what you’ve started, but you decide against it. As you go commando for the next four hours, you think about how you’re going to get peter back.

#evan peters #evan peters smut #jimmy darling smut #ahs cult #kai anderson #kit walker smut #ahs fandom #ahs hotel #ahs asylum #ahs murder house #peter maximoff smut #warren lipka #colin zabel #kai anderson smut #tate langdon smut

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cathrrrine · 4 months

Text

just eat your food and say goodnight.

erik lehnsherr (magneto) x reader, platonic! peter maximoff (quicksilver) x reader • x-men (movies) • fluff, female reader

Summary: Peter Maximoff is a mischievous little shit. Y/N Lehnsherr and her husband Erik love him anyway. AO3

“Well, I’m calling it a night then.”

A content sigh escaped your lips as you stood up from your seat at the dining table and gingerly picked up your own dishes as well as the other empty ones left on the table. Those who noticed thanked you quickly before resuming their respective conversations — like Raven and Charles who were too busy bickering like children — while others made the effort to collect the ones on the other end of the table, namely Hank, Jean and Scott; the latter only doing so after being dragged by his girlfriend.

“Hey, you got an early class too, old man. Can’t risk waking up late with that back of yours.” You gestured to your husband, pointedly looking at him with a smirk on your face. He mirrored your expression, playfully cringing his nose to tease you but it only made you chuckle, a sound that was music to his ears.

“Good night then, everyone.” Erik stood up, following suit behind you, a melody of good night’s responding to him in different tones and variations of the phrase.

“The old man joke doesn’t age well with you, Y/N!”

Although muffled as he said it with a mouth full of food, it was clear enough for you to hear and snap your head towards him. Peter, the beloved speedster, snickered to himself at his own joke. He was too busy shoving chocolate pudding down his throat to notice that a couple of those around him had gone quiet, staring at him with disapproving eyes.

Raven reached over to flick the side of his head and Charles leaned back to give her the leeway, “Dumbass.”

“Ow!”

In your one thousand and thirty-five years of living, it was no surprise that all jokes about your age had grown stale. You hated them, having heard every single phrase on Earth…it was just plain boring to hear them make unoriginal jabs at your age at this point. If they got creative, you wouldn’t mind so much, but after hearing the same variations of the same jokes your whole life? Anyone would be understandably annoyed. Erik knew this, almost everyone at the table did as well. But, you figured it slipped Peter’s mind. It always did.

As he rubbed the side of his head, he stared angrily at the shapeshifter but was met by a pair of equally disappointed eyes that belonged to a certain Professor. A sheepish look fell on Peter’s face when he realised his mistake.

“You should know not to be too casual with your professors.” Charles raised an eyebrow.

Of course, you didn’t take it too seriously, he was a kid that meant no real harm so you didn’t really feel any real anger towards the young speedster, maybe even none at all. But he’s been bothering you too many times lately that it was starting to get on your nerves. So, you put on your Strict Professor Face and stared him down, determined to make him break a sweat at the very least. It probably wouldn’t put a cork in Peter’s attitude, but maybe you’d earn yourself a few weeks off from his incessant clowning.

Erik suppressed the grin that was starting to tug at his cheeks, he knew what you were doing, so he wordlessly took the stack of plates from your grip and continued your task for you. He caught Charles’ eye and they shared a knowing look for a brief moment.

Peter was in trroubleeeee.

“You do know how I feel about those jokes, Maximoff.”

“Funny, right?” He tried to play innocent, nervously smiling at you.

“I’ve told you so many times before that, no, I do not find them funny. We do not share the same sense of humour. Charles is right, you shouldn’t be so casual with me. We may be friends in your mind, but I’m still your professor, and I deserve at least a minimal amount of respect.”

Whew, that made even me sweat. Charles’ voice cackled in your mind.

Peter Maximoff was rarely left speechless, so it was an eighth wonder of the world to have him staring at you with his eyes widened and mouth shut. He gulped, shocked at being scolded by his favourite — although he’d never admit it to anyone — lecturer.

It hurt you too much to leave him that way, though. You were his favourite for a reason…that reason being how gracious you were to his faults that seemed to be never-ending. Relenting, you cracked a smile and used your powers to jolt him out of his daze and confusion. The sound of your chortling hit him with the reality behind the situation.

“Just messing with you, kid. I think you broke your own record for the longest time of being speechless.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned in effort to mask his relief, not wanting to admit she actually did get him back for once. “Unbelievable.”

“Serves you right for always making fun of me. I’m not kidding when I say it’s annoying!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you feel better, grandma.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, “At least I’m not the one with greying hair.”

Peter frowned and opened his mouth, about to fire back a retort but you stopped him by laughing and ruffling his grey strands, “C’mon kid, just eat your food and say goodnight. Careful though, don’t choke.”

Your feet carried you over to your original destination, the intent of loading the dishwasher now appearing at the forefront of tour mind, but it was halted immediately.

As if someone had pushed him forward, Peter sped over to the sink area before you could even turn around, mumbling something about doing the dishes. You glanced curiously at the smiling telepath who simply gave you a shrug in return.

You bid your farewells to everyone again, Peter’s quip of ‘g’night’ not escaping you either when you went to pat him on the back affectionately.

A patiently waiting Erik tugged at your hand, clasping it in his own as he led you out of the kitchen and up the stairs, swinging your hands in tandem with his.

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” You worriedly asked aloud, suddenly very concerned that Peter wasn’t aware you had been joking. The role you played in his life was somewhat maternal, and you didn’t want him to think you were actually being curt with him.

“Who? Peter?” Erik gave you a sideways glance, “That boy’s smarter than he seems, he knows what you were doing. Don’t worry so much, darling. With how fast he moves, I’m sure his mind has moved on to other things by now.”

You hummed in reply, pleased with his answer. “Sometimes I think you might be the resident telepath with how good you are at reading my mind.”

“That’s just called being married to each other, my dear.”

———

“Y/N!” The sound of his sing-song voice was not what alerted you to Peter’s presence, nor was it the sound of his shoes squeaking before he rushed over with his powers, instead, it was the lack of formality. He never called you Professor or anything of the sort.

You never chided him for it, in fact, you’d be lying if you said you preferred the title as a prefix to your name. While many of your students were comfortable addressing you as such, anyone who felt more at ease with calling you by just your name was welcome to do so.

You had a first-year call you Mrs. Lehnsherr back then, when you and your husband were just newlyweds, but Erik was quick to remind them that if they wished to call you by your last name, it was to be Professor Lehnsherr instead, because, in his words, your accomplishments were not to be diminished and should be rightfully addressed.

It led to a whole debacle of mix-ups with two Prof. Lehnsherr’s roaming the hallways, which was a minor problem compared to the confusion of the paperwork.

The days of “Professor Lehnsherr?” “Yes?” “Sorry, not you Professor Lehnsherr, I meant you…Professor Lehnsherr,” had to come to an end, so you settled for whatever it is your students decided to call you…as long as it wasn’t demeaning.

However, no one called you Y/N, just Y/N, but the one and only Peter Maximoff himself.

The young man sped towards you, his hair swaying behind him from the strong gush of wind even as he came to a still in front of you.

“Pete!” You mocked the way he called you, using the same tone.

He gave you a playfully disgruntled look before quickly reaching into his backpack — which looked more like a knapsack, actually — to retrieve a cylindrical object and hand it to you nonchalantly. As soon you wrapped your fingers around it, he sped away again, a quick and impish ‘byeeee’ being the last thing within your earshot before the gush of wind took over your senses again.

It wasn’t until your day ended that you finally had the time to completely relax, stretching your legs and unbuckling your high-waisted, straight-legged pants. You wiggled your toes, sore from being in heels all day, as you relaxed into putty on yours and Erik’s shared bed.

Speaking of the devil — Erik came in not long after, tossing his shoes off and setting his things down on the bench next to your door before throwing himself on the bed next to you, also instantly letting himself relax.

He leaned closer to your side, laying his head on your chest and draping an arm over your stomach. Muscle memory kicked in as your fingers immediately found their way to run through his hair, a familiar habit between the two of you. He closed his eyes as the sweet, heavenly endorphins that came with the satisfaction of your touch washed over his body.

“How was your day?” He mumbled, too lazy to form his words properly.

“Pretty interesting. Finally convinced Logan to come to one of my classes next week. Students have been begging like crazy to meet him.” It was a history project, of which you and the Wolverine were both well-acquainted with, given your ages. “I’m getting the feeling that they think he’s a cooler teacher than I am.”

That made your husband laugh, the sound reverberating as you continued to cradle his head on your chest. “All of the students think Logan is cooler than any of us.”

“It’s not fair, isn’t it?”

“He’s like a mystery, that’s why. Never around long enough to be the one who yells at them for almost burning the school down.” He was talking, but his lips were barely moving and his eyelids were fluttering shut. You smiled softly, trying your best to keep your movements minimal as you continued your ritual to help him sleep.

“Like a cool uncle, then.”

“Yes.” A beat passed, then he spoke again when he remembered what he meant to tell you earlier. “Peter was in my class today.”

“Yeah?” You were slowly falling asleep as well, eyes half lidded and muscles starting to feel limp.

“He spent the whole of it with his head down, though.”

The very image of that made your eyes shoot open, all hints of sleep gone. “Why? What happened?”

It was unlike Peter to be uneventful — he was always doing something , be it throwing spitballs or participating in a one-sided blinking contest with whoever’s teaching in front.

“Nothing.” Erik mumbled groggily. “He was just…working on…something.”

Your skin itched and your eyebrows strained, discomfort firing up every synapse as you went through all the possible reasons. Then, your last interaction dawned on you.

“Honey, I know you’re almost asleep, so can you please hand me my bag on the bench?”

Without saying a word, he raised the arm resting on your body and used his powers to float it towards you, the metal handles clanking together when he dropped it carefully in your grip.

You didn’t have to move your sleeping husband to grab the cylinder you were thinking about, but you did almost startle him when his snores made you lose your grip on the bag.

He didn’t notice, too busy dozing off to even pay attention to what you were currently doing. You quietly unwrapped the roll of paper, barely caring about the sound of it crinkling — you knew your husband could sleep through anything when he was in your arms — since Erik’s snores were louder anyway.

The contents were confusing at first, you had to read it twice to understand that it was a voucher of some sort. With your arm still around Erik’s head, you used what restricted movement you had with your one free arm and just your hand to flip the paper over.

“What is this, Peter?” You mumbled to yourself, reaching for your glasses on the nightstand. Your vision weakened even in your abnormal age, and being far sighted was something you dealt with long before the triple digits hit you.

As if on cue, the answer to your rhetorical question was answered by the scrawling on the back which you recognised as Peter’s boyish handwriting.

‘Sorry for calling you old all the time. You know I’m just kidding. Thank you for always being so cool with me. Hope you like the vouchers for free ice cream. One’s for Erik too. - P.M’

Next to his initials was a doodle of a face with sunglasses on, a two-toothed grin to go with it. It was hard to wipe the pleasant smile off your face, so you kept it on, succumbing to the bubbly feeling. Peter was like a little brother that you couldn’t hate no matter how much you wanted to — you’d even go so far to say he was the son you never had.

You flipped it again, only noticing the name of the store being dairy goods related as you read through it for the third time. It still left you confused, since there was no sign of anything being free printed on it.

That’s when your eyes landed on the italicised font at the very bottom, bold red asterisks between the phrase.

* SENIOR CITIZENS GET 1 FREE CONE . *

Quickly, you turned it around to look at what you thought was an innocent letter written by one seemingly apologetic speedster. You didn’t miss the joke this time, written in very, very emboldened ink, so roughly scratched on the surface you wondered how you missed it in the first place. The smile you had on dimpled into a disbelieving simper.

P.S. HOPE YOU ARE WEARING YOUR GRANDMA GLASSES :D

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #evan peters #x-men quicksilver #erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr x reader #x-men imagines #michael fassbender #gotta love dadneto #husbandneto and his greying child #motherly!reader #mother son relationship #sisterly if you want #magneto x reader #magneto

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