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frankenkyle19 · 9 months ago

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“Amaze-Balls”

Peter Maximoff x fem!reader (smut)

word count: 4.1k

we’re so back baby!!! Official kinktober list coming out soon with the actual fic ideas as well for you guys to look forward to. Enjoy. I have to admit my smut writing skills are a little rusty :/

warnings/description: reader is a nurse who is also a mutant with healing powers. She resides at the school and helps patch up any kids that end up hurting themselves. Except it’s usually Peter that’s coming through her door to get fixed up. But today he’s a bit down and reader wasn’t to find out why. Leads to.. Well I’m sure you know. smut, porn with plot, handjob, teasing, slightly sub!Peter, crappy writing oh and a tw for mentions of blood from a minor scrape Peter has.

When Charles Xavier reached out to you, asking if you’d be interested in taking a position at his school, you weren’t sure what to make of it.

Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters

It sounded promising enough. A stable job, a place to live and a place you’d be protected? You were a mutant as well, though you didn’t consider your powers to be as cool as any of the X-men’s. Healing. But not any of the cool, important healing, the most you’d ever been able to heal was a small cut or a broken finger or toe. Ease a bit of pain in the body at times. Still, Charles saw promise and potential in you. He drove you a bit mad at times. The man was odd but my god he was a genius. Sometimes having a conversation with him could actually hurt your brain because you just couldn’t keep up.

You’d also been introduced to the rest of the X-men. Most of which intimidated you. Minus Peter of course.

Peter Maximoff. Closer to your age then the rest of them, Peter was a silver haired kleptomaniac with a Hostess snack cake obsession and super speed. He’d been the only person who’d made you truly laugh since you arrived and it immediately eased you. He hadn’t been there long either so the two of you were sort of in the same boat with feeling a little like outsiders.

Unfortunately you didn’t have a lot of time to speak to him. He was busy with students and missions and you were busy making sure that no one died on the premises. It was a full time job. Literally. A school full of young mutants was a recipe for disaster. Barely held together.

You’d see him at dinners and meetings for the X-men that Charles sometimes allowed you to attend. According to him you’d be one of them one day. When you were stronger. You were sure he meant it to be a kind, hopeful sentiment but really it just made you feel like shit. Useless. Only good enough to be a school nurse.

Peter found any excuse in his free time to come to your office. You were torn between believing he’d truly done it because he wanted to speak with you, and the fact that you always had a little tray of treats for the students after they’d been patched up and treated. You presumed the latter.

Today was just like any other day at the school really. It had been a quiet morning which turned into a quiet afternoon and it was a much needed break from the chaos. The kids seemed to be behaving themselves today. Knock on wood.

You were sitting in your chair, feet propped up against your desk as you read from whatever book Charles had recommended you. Surely something you didn’t find any enjoyment in because he read the most boring books on earth. You’d taken one of the cookies from your tray of treats, holding it in one hand while the book was in another.

Just as you brought the cookie to your lips, there was a knock on the door and it caused you to jump, dropping the book onto the floor and losing your place. You cursed under your breath before turning your attention towards the door. Of course just as you’d started to relax someone had ended up hurting themselves.

“Come in!” You set the cookie down on your desk, surely to be forgotten while you waited to see which kid had gotten into trouble this time.

Except when the door opened, a familiar head of silver hair popped into view and it definitely was not attached to the head of a child. Maybe in spirit perhaps, but no, it was Peter.

“Peter?” You asked, brows furrowing as he made his way into your office before closing the door behind him, looking all sheepish and shy. That’s when you noticed he was bleeding from his chin. It looked to be just a scrape but still, you didn’t like the sight of blood on him. Someone you cared about.

“What happened?” You stood up, making your way around the desk to examine him closer.

Peter scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, an embarrassed blush splotched over his cheeks.

“Oh.. pffff, totally wasn’t running with my eyes closed to try and impress the kids and I definitely didn’t trip on a rock and fall chin first onto the concrete. That’s definitely not what happened.”

Your immediate reaction was to roll your eyes. Leave it to Peter to get the most ridiculous wounds from doing the dumbest things. It just made sense.

“How did you even manage- you know what, I’m not even going to ask. You know the drill, up on the table, let me grab some antibacterial wipes.”

You made your way over to the cabinets on the opposite wall of your office as Peter hopped up onto the table, eyes never leaving you. He hadn’t hurt himself on purpose but he knew if he had really wanted to he could have put his arms out in time to stop himself from falling. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to see you.

Coming back with the supplies you set it on the side of the table next to him, first getting a wipe to wipe off the blood. It revealed a fresh, raw scrape underneath where more blood began to bubble up slowly from the now open flesh. It wasn’t bad but he’d have a scab for at least a few days before the skin healed itself.

“You always get yourself into the most ridiculous situations.” You scoffed as you tossed the now bloodied wipe into the small trash can.

Peter nodded in agreement, unusually quiet which had you wondering if something else was up. You didn’t want to pry though.

You continued on in silence, cleaning the scrape before applying ointment and covering it with a bandage. You pulled away and tossed the rest of the trash away before reaching for the tray to offer Peter a treat, his favorite part of coming to see you.

Except he just shook his head and looked at you solemnly. “No thank you,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he looked away

Okay. Now you knew something had to be wrong. The Peter you knew would never turn down a little treat, it’s what kept him going! You’d never really seen him without one. You were determined to figure out what exactly had bummed him out so badly he didn’t even want a cookie.

“Peter…” you started, looking at him seriously. “What’s wrong? Something happen?” You hoped that he trusted you enough to tell but then again you weren’t sure.

“What? No.. no it’s nothing.” He flushed red now, picking at his fingers as he avoided your gaze. He hated lying to you. It felt wrong and he knew that you knew he was lying too.

“Peter Maximoff. You’re going to tell me what’s wrong right now or I’m going to have the professor read your mind. Spill.” You urged, kicking his foot with your own, gently. You just wanted to know what had happened to make your usual happy go lucky speedster so upset.

He finally made eye contact with you then, eyes wide at your threat. “Okay okay! Okay… Jesus.”

He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before he started. “It’s just, I had a date… It went great, she seemed super into me but then she asked me why I’d decided to dye my hair silver and when I explained to her I didn’t do anything to my hair and told her about my powers she totally flipped. She left. Called me a freak and told me to never contact her again.” He rushed out, trying to just get the explanation over with. He didn’t want to talk about it any longer than he had to. It was as embarrassing as it was upsetting.

There was a silence that fell between the two of you then as you tried to find the words to comfort him. He was obviously torn up about it. Could only imagine how it had felt. You’d never experienced anything like it because your powers were quite easy to hide and play off. Peter’s on the other hand- not so much.

“Oh Peter… I’m sorry that’s-“ you didn’t have the words. Why were people still so cruel to mutants? Would it ever change? You’d heard Charles’s speeches countless times about change, how some day they’d be united but the more time that passed, the less you believed him. Was it even a possibility at this point?

“That’s horrible. You didn’t deserve that and she didn’t deserve you.” You hoped your words at least brought him a bit of comfort until he opened his mouth and spoke once more, the words he spoke next breaking your heart into pieces.

“Do you think I’m a freak? Like- I get it. The speed, the… The hair.” He’d never really had an issue with his hair but sometimes he wished that he didn’t have it. He’d kill to have a normal color. One that would make him less easy to identify as anything other than normal. But the fact of the matter was he wasn’t normal. Wouldn’t ever be normal as much as he tried to pretend.

Your brows were furrowed deeply as you reached a hand out to rest on Peter’s shoulder as he sat on the exam table, looking more solemn than you’d ever seen him. It didn’t suit him. You wanted the happy, goofy Peter back.

“You are not a freak, you’re a mutant. There’s a difference. You are you and you shouldn’t have to be scared of showing who you really are, Peter. There are always going to be people who will try and tell you who you should be but you need to listen to your heart.” You rested your palm over his chest, right above his heart as you met his sad, brown doe eyes.

He seemed to consider your words, picking them apart for a moment before he nodded. You were right after all. He hated how sensitive he could be. Wished he had tougher skin. Perhaps it would come in time, the older he got. He hoped he wouldn’t always have this sort of reaction.

You gave him a small, warm smile. When you smiled at Peter it wasn’t just with your lips. It was your eyes and the way they lit up. Your nose with the way it scrunched up, and your cheeks with the way they reddened just slightly.

Peter felt a fluttering in his stomach as he looked at you. You who’d been here all along. He’d always sort of had a thing for you but never believed that he would have a chance. Fuck… He’d been rejected once already, what was one more?

You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

Fuck it.

“Would you kiss me?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper but you heard it clear as day. Why had he asked such a question? You weren’t sure but you were certainly going to give him an answer.

Without much consideration at all you leaned forward and closed the gap between your lips, closing your eyes as Peter’s warm mouth came in contact with your own.

It was absolutely electric. The spark that seemed to pass between your bodies as you kissed. It started out slow, calculated and nervous before it began to become more free. Heated. You reached to cup Peter’s cheek in your palm as you leaned closer to him to kiss him deeper. It felt so different then any kiss you’d shared with anyone in the past. This one just felt right. Almost familiar as if the two of you had done it a thousand times before. Maybe in another timeline..

Eventually, much to Peter’s disappointment, you had to pull away to take a breath. Peter let out a quiet whine as his now swollen lips chased your own in desperate attempts to get you back on him again. Like he couldn’t live without it. His lifeline.

“Slow down,” you laughed softly, cheeks flushed. It was sort of ironic, telling the speedster to slow down because you were sure he probably didn’t know how.

“Telling me to slow down is like telling a cow not to eat grass,” Peter said with a straight face. Why was he so strange?

“I’m pretty sure that’s not an actual saying-“

“I’m pretty sure I don’t care- Come back here-“ he grinned as he pulled you into another kiss, his large hands coming to rest on your hips, keeping you close. He didn’t want to ever let you go. Slowly you felt yourself leaning into him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders, feeling the material of his stupid silver jacket under your palms.

Peter was in heaven. Maybe that woman calling him a freak was the best thing that ever happened to him if it led up to this. Kissing you. He pulled you impossibly closer, feeling a familiar stir in his groin. He let out a little groan against your lips, his hips moving of their own accord trying to seek out much needed friction on his rapidly hardening length. He needed something, anything.

“Please…” He found himself whispering against your lips, already desperate. If he didn’t feel so needy he’d be embarrassed but there was simply just no time for that now.

You were fighting your own losing battle with your body, trying not to feed into the needs you felt when you laid your eyes on Peter, still sat on the table, brown eyes blown wide and lips swollen and red from kissing. He looked like something out of a wet dream.

“Peter we can’t- not here- not right now- what if someone sees?” You tried to be the voice of reason but Peter wasn’t having it. He zoomed over to the door, locked it and then zoomed back to you again, this time coming up behind you, pressing himself against you as he chuckled hotly against your ear. “Door’s locked now. We can do whatever we want.” He pressed warm, open mouthed kisses across the delicate skin of your neck, his hands beginning to creep under the bottom of your shirt.

“Plus I think I need a full body check-up. Just to make sure everything’s alright. That I didn’t hurt myself anywhere else.”

He was an absolute dork but that’s what you loved about him. With a little laugh you shoved him back against the table before your hands went to his pants, undoing his belt before trying to get the fabric down his legs which proved harder than you originally thought. Why were they so damn tight? Eventually though you did manage to pull them down, leaving him in a pair of black boxers, tented in the front with a rather prominent bulge.

He let out a shaky breath as he watched your every move, waiting to see what you’d do next because right now he was convinced he’d let you do whatever you wanted. Okay… Maybe not whatever. Definitely not like… anything super crazy but- UGH! His brain needed to stop moving so fast and just stay in the moment because he was sure it was about to become really memorable.

Your fingers curled under the waistband of his boxers before you were peeling them down as you got on your knees in front of him.

Poor Peter’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched you, trying to stay still when you pulled his boxers down leaving his lower half completely exposed to you. His length twitched and a shiver ran up his spine as he was exposed to the chill air of the room.

The chill didn’t last though because soon your warm hand was wrapped around him, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure to have him gripping the table with his hands, head tilted back as he let out a sigh of pleasure.

You looked up at him, a smirk on your lips as you stroked over him a few times before spitting in your hand and continuing your actions.

A moan bubbled up from Peter’s throat, filling the room before he bit down on his bottom lip to try and stifle the noise. The last thing the two of you needed was for anyone to hear because you’d never live it down.

“Feel good?” You asked, as if Peter’s actions and movements weren’t telling enough.

“Course it does, baby- feels so fucking good I- can you use your mouth?” He asked shyly, glancing down at you.

“Why else would I be on my knees, Peter?” Your words seemed to momentarily make his brain short circuit because the next thing he knew, your beautiful lips were wrapped around the tip of his throbbing cock and he felt his knees nearly buckle at the feeling.

“Holy shit- mmmm, that feels absolutely amazing- like you’ve got no idea-“

You liked the way he vocalized his pleasure. It had you wet as you continued to swallow him down as best as you could without gagging.

Peter’s hips stuttered a bit, trying not to thrust into your mouth. He didn’t want to hurt you but it just felt so good and plus he’d never been great at staying still. It was truly impossible for the speedster.

You didn’t mind, breathing hard through your nose. You took him as deep as you could before pulling off of him to suck in a breath, a string of spit connecting your cherry red lips to the tip of his dick. Now that was hot, Peter thought. Hell, who was he kidding? It was all hot.

“You want to keep going like this or you want to do this properly?” You asked, brow raised at the silver haired man who took a moment to respond. You watched the gears turn in his head until it seemed to click.

“I- Holy hell baby, fuck yeah I want to do this properly let’s get this party started!” He shouted excitedly before you shushed him with a reprimanding look.

You stood up, pulling your shirt over your head before stepping out of your pants as well, leaving you in only your underwear and bra.

Peter whistled low under his breath, shaking his head. You were absolutely smokin’! He mentally kicked himself for not initiating all of this sooner.

“You look- I mean- you’re absolutely beautiful.” He whispered.

“I appreciate it Peter, but I’m not sure how much time we have and I’d like you to take off the rest of your clothes and get this show on the road, yeah? Think you can do that?” Your slight teasing voice had him twitching once more and he quickly threw off his jacket and shirt and kicked his pants the rest of the way off of his legs.

The two of you were urgent with your movements, wanting to get to it before a child inevitably ended up hurting themselves and rushing to your office. Your time was limited but lucky for you, Peter was just about the best person for a quickie. Hell, it was practically in his name.

Your lips collided again, teeth narrowly avoiding clashing against each other as you kissed fiercely.

Peter watched in awe as you unhooked your bra and slid off your panties, letting them join the ever growing pile of fabric on the floor by your feet.

“Do you have a condom?” You asked Peter. Before you had a chance to blink he rushed out of the room and not even a second later came back with one firmly gripped between his fingers.

“Did you just- Peter you’re naked! What if someone saw you?” You shouted, smacking his shoulder before snatching the condom from him, tearing the foil at the perforated edges before pulling the condom out.

“I’m fast as hell baby, no one was gonna see m-oh-“ He moaned as you rolled the condom onto his length, giving him a few firm strokes for good measure before you hopped up onto the table, spreading your legs to give him a good view of just how much you needed him.

He wasted absolutely no time in grabbing you by your hips and pulling you towards the edge of the table, stepping between your legs as he positioned his rock hard cock at your entrance. He was throbbing and practically shaking with anticipation as he looked up at you once more to make sure this was okay.

You gave him a little nod, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him closer. His tip slid into you with ease thanks to how wet he’d made you and the both of you simultaneously let out a little shaky moan at the feeling.

Peter’s palms rested on either side of you on the metal table. He felt the cold beneath his palms rapidly heating from his body temperature as he glanced down at you. He was sure he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

Slowly he began to press himself farther into you, watching as you just seemed to suck him in. More more more until he was fully seated inside of you, filling you up in such a delicious way that had you practically squirming for him to move.

“Peter- Please-“ You begged, looking up at him, a desperate and pleading look on your face. Peter didn’t waste a second, pulling back just to slam back into you, making your body scoot forward on the table before he was grabbing you and pulling you back.

You let your head fall back against the metal, hands reaching for Peter’s as he began fucking into you at a brutal pace, eyes clenched shut and lip bitten between his teeth.

“Oh Jesus-“ he breathed out. “This is so good- fucking hell you’re so tight- and warm- squeezin’ me like crazy- I’m not gonna last-“ Peter warned, gripping onto your hips so tightly you were sure he was going to leave bruises. But to you they were welcomed bruises. They’d serve as a reminder of the fun you’d had.

“Peter- do me a favor?” You asked, to which he looked down at you immediately, ready to comply with everything you said. “Don’t hold back.” You whispered between the two of you.

Something in Peter snapped and he began to fuck into you at a brutal pace now, the table squeaking with each of his powerful thrusts. He began to vibrate, something you’d soon learn he did when he was close and had a hard time controlling his powers. Something you’d learn to absolutely love.

He brought one of his hands down to your core, beginning to rub over your clit with his thumb. Just that felt amazing already but then he began to vibrate his thumb, the buzz setting your body alight as you arched into the touch, gasps and moans leaving your lips without thought.

“Peter! I didn’t- I didn’t know you could do that-“

“There's a lot about me you didn’t know. I’m sure you’ll learn soon,” he said in his stupid, flirtatious tone, never stopping his thrusts.

He began to lose his rhythm a bit, brows furrowed, silver hair sticking to his forehead as he tried to hold on. He wanted you to come first.

“Please- please come for me-“ he whispered breathlessly, applying even more pressure to your clit.

You didn’t need much more after that. His words and the buzzing sensation were more than enough to have you flying over the edge, gripping onto the sides of the table as hard as you could as you came, clenching down tightly on his dick, practically trapping him inside your warm, wet walls.

Peter thrust into you a few more times before stilling, filling the condom up so full it might burst. He leaned over your body, panting as the two of you tried to catch your breath.

“That was…” You panted, trying to find the words to even describe how absolutely magical that had been.

“Amaze-balls?” Peter finished for you, sending you into a fit of laughter as he pulled out of you, tying the condom off and throwing it into the trash.

“That’s not the word I would use, but sure. Yes Peter, it was Amaze-balls.” You scoffed, shaking your head.

Peter grinned lopsidedly at you before gathering up the clothes on the floor, handing yours off to you before he himself put his back on.

“I should get back to teaching the kids. I’ll see you later at dinner?” He asked excitedly.

Your eyes met his, absolutely beaming at you. He was adorable. Irresistible if you will.

“I’ll see you at dinner. Bye Peter.” And just like that, he left in a flash of silver, leaving you alone in your office to change and go back to reading your boring book and eating your cookie.

Amaze-balls.

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gingerteafairy · 3 months ago

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a peter maximoff fic where he can't sleep so reader helps tire him out by making out w him.. they're probably like besties w a lot of tension ! aaa thank you in advance if this is possible to write.

hehehe it's possible. trust me, im living for besties making out. and im so sorry for taking so long </3

𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

peter maximoff x fem!reader

tags n warnings: SMUT/MDNI, language, dry humping, mutual masturbation. word count: 1.1k

You only realized how late it was getting when your eyes started losing focus, unable to keep up with the movie’s plot. The dialogue blurred together, the scenes passed without meaning—your brain had already given up on following along. A quick glance at the clock confirmed what you already knew: you really should take better care of yourself, beyond just eating properly.

But still, it was the perfect time for a midnight snack.

With sluggish steps, you got up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen, rubbing your eyes as you searched for something to eat. Your body felt heavy with sleep, your movements slow, and you barely noticed another presence in the room—until you heard the quiet creak of the couch.

Your eyes blinked, waking up a little more when they landed on Peter lying there, legs stretched out, the glow of his phone illuminating his face.

“What are you doing here, Peter?” you murmured, stifling a yawn against the sleeve of your sweater.

“Can’t sleep,” he responded without looking up from the screen, shifting slightly to make space beside him. You didn’t think twice before flopping down, settling onto the couch next to him. “Wanna use matching pfp?” he offered sleepily, lifting one side of it.

“Why? We’re not even dating,” you teased with a small smile, feeling the warmth of the fabric calling to your tired body.

Peter carelessly tossed his phone onto the armrest and, without hesitation, wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Wanna be my girlfriend?” he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep, his touch lazy but full of intent.

“I do,” you played along, feeling the comfort of the moment settle pleasantly into your muscles.

He smiled back, a small, satisfied grin, before burying his face into the curve of your neck. Peter’s embrace was warm, comfortable, as if it was shaped just to hold you there.

“Rough day?” you inquired, running your fingers through his silver hair.

“Not really… just stressful,” he exhaled, his big eyes flicking up to meet yours for a moment. “Had to rescue a bunch of people, and no one even said ‘thanks.’”

“That’s tough. You’re always helping everyone…” You sighed, understanding the weight in his voice.

To soothe him, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes at the gesture, relaxing a little more.

“It’s… boring.” He sighed deeply before snuggling even closer, burying his face in your neck. His warm breath shivered your skin, causing a small shiver that you tried to ignore. “Is it bad?”

“No…” your voice came out weak, all your effort being used to keep your thoughts away from the heat between your legs as you felt Peter’s nose nuzzling against your neck as he comforted himself on the upholstery.

Peter inhaled against your skin, planting a feather-light kiss on your throat. Your body flinched, pulling him closer as a result.

“Is this bad?”

“No… It’s good…” You mumbled, your nails digging into his back, feeling him press his lips harder, large hands pulling your waist.

“And this?” He asked before sliding his lips over your skin, parting his lips to suck the pressure point, fingers marking your waist.

“Peter…” his name came out slurred, your legs wrapping around his waist, and that was when you felt him pulse on your thigh.

“I don’t wanna do anything you don’t want to do.” He whispered, placing another kiss even more intense than the last.

Your hips thrust towards his pelvis, the wetness now impossible to ignore as it pressed against his hard cock. Peter groaned at the contact, sliding his hands inside your shirt to roll up your back, running his nails lightly on your skin.

Peter thrust his pelvis back against your core, the shorts on your body causing even more friction on your clit, your hips moving in reflex.

You were responding with your body and Peter didn’t want to make you wait. He lifted his head and your lips crashed together hungrily in a desperate kiss. Peter’s hands slipped into your shorts, squeezing the flesh of your bum in his hands, guiding you over your sweatpants.

Your hands pulled his shirt up, scratching his back. You were dripping and he could feel it through the clothing, but he wanted more. Still inside your shorts, he moved one of his hands to your cunt, ghosting one of his fingers into your entrance.

“You’re so wet. So good.” He whispered, inserting a finger and curling it, applying pressure to your spot, watching you tremble and bite your bottom lip. “Do you want me to stop?” He teased, circling his fingertip.

“No—” You moaned, curling your toes as he massaged your nerve point with his thumb. He pulled his finger out, bringing it to his mouth.

“Hmmm…” he hummed, rolling his eyes in delight. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me. You’re even sweeter on the inside.”

Your stomach flipped at his dirty words and Peter brought his fingers back in, thrusting faster. You pulled his pants down with one hand, his rock-hard cock springing out, hanging slightly to the left. Your hand wrapped around it, fist moving to pleasure him too.

“Hmmm, you’re so turned on I didn’t even have to say anything.” He teased, biting the corner of his mouth as you pressed your fingers harder and moved your fist faster. “That’s it. That’s it, really good. You’re talented. You’re gonna make me finish fast in your pretty hands.”

“Yeah?” You smiled proudly, picking up the pace a little more, watching him close his eyes tightly and put another finger inside you, closing the space between the two of you with another clumsy kiss.

“Shit. I’m close, so close.” He warned, grunting with his eyes closed, his body shaking, thrusting his pelvis to fuck your hand.

“Me too, don’t stop.” You begged and he pulled you closer by the hips, penetrating you faster with his fingers.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, gonna cum m on your belly, okay?” He stammered, his breath hitched, smiling as he saw you nod without being able to speak. “Yeah, that’s it. Oh, fuck. It’s coming.”

Peter opened his mouth, trembling in your hand as the jets came steadily on your belly, staining your shirt. You stopped your hand, but he put it back, helping with ultra-fast movements, the other vibrating inside you, making you come undone faster than expected.

When he stopped throbbing, he removed your hand from his cock and took his fingers out of you, giving your clit a little tap that made you shiver.

“Peter, you—” He shut you with a kiss, putting both hands around your waist, mixing your fluids without realizing it.

“Sorry, I was so fucking hard. Didn't realize I was so desperate, but I’m better now. I promise.” He beamed, pulling up his pants with one of his hands and returning to your waist. With an instinctive caress, your fingers slid through his soft hair again, while the warmth of Peter's embrace slowly guided the two of you to sleep.

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximof x reader #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #x reader #imagine #reader insert #fanfic #evan peters #evan peters fandom #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #evan peters x y/n

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rainedravens · 2 days ago

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"oh my god guys the enemies just became lovers"

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americanwh0rerstory · 9 months ago

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Party at the x mansion [peter maximoff]

SUMMARY: whilst the other x-men were on a mission, some of the students at the school had some other ideas…

drunk!peter x f!reader.

CONTENT WARNING: alcohol, brief mentions of vomiting (not detailed), suggestive ending with discussions of sex

READER DISCRETION ADVISED. SUGGESTIVE ENDING WITH NO EXPLICIT NSFW

A/N: If you want a part 2 it would contain the nsfw scene. i need opinions on this

flashing lights bombarded his senses, the thumping bass of the party music blending with the faint sounds of puking invading his eardrums. he stumbled down the stairs with wavy vision and made his way back into the main party area after taking a quick detour to sort his looks out. after all, Y/N was here. the one girl who could break the speedster’s usual attitude. for the first time he couldn’t use his mutation to get around the party quickly, the alcohol clouded his vision so he’d most likely run into a wall.

with a red solo cup clutched in one hand, he poured himself another cup of WooWoo from the nearly empty pitcher. his hand trembled and his vision unfocused with how drunk he currently was. looking out into the sea of people, he couldn’t spot Y/N anywhere but the alcohol finally gave him the confidence to make the first move to - hopefully - going out with her. he didn’t wanna be like the stereotypical party jerk who only wanted women for sex, no, he wanted to shower her with affection, and love; the proper princess treatment.

eventually he spotted her on the other side of the party, drinking whatever her choice of poison was with a grin on her face. despite what seemed to be right he took the risk and dashed over to her, leaving a blur of silver hair behind him.

“hey, Y/N” he said with a lopsided grin, a faint blush already painting his cheeks with a rosy hue. his mind was racing faster than any speed he could run, trying to get over the fact he was talking to the only person to have ever made him fully short circuit.

“wanna go somewhere after this? i’ll run you to anywhere you like babygirl” he slurs slightly. he tried his hardest to seem composed but it was obvious by the way he was bouncing on his heels and fidgeting with his hands that he was nervous, a trait you had never seen in the speedster

the pet name also took you by surprise, but you dismissed it as a drunken mishap or one of his platonic affectionate terms that he’d use on anyone he could. you also didn’t know where to go. at this time everywhere would be shut, and he was in no condition to go on a date in a high end restaurant. even sober you couldn’t take him there, the klepto would end up stealing a fork thinking it was real silverware.

“the only place you need to go is to bed. you gotta sleep this off peter, maybe we can do something when you’re sober” you say politely and softly, politely turning him down but agreeing to go out another time. however judging by the pout that fell onto his lips, he wasn’t liking that answer.

“bed? i don’t wanna go to bed, not unless you’re with me” a sly grin crept onto his face as he said the last part of his sentence, but you knew peter well enough to know he wouldn’t try to take advantage of you. he’d never even dream of it. so you agreed to go back to his form

he put a hand behind your head and wrapped the other around your waist. “just a warning: whiplaaaash” he murmured into your ear before speeding you back to his room.

once you was in there, he gave you a quick and affectionate kiss on the cheek before grabbing a box of twinkies and offering you one, or maybe 10 with the amount of twinkies he had in his room.

a movie marathon, twinkies, cuddles, and marching pyjamas is how the night ended. it was serene despite peter’s inability to keep still. his knee was constantly bouncing, or he’d randomly zip over to an arcade machine just to move around a little. either way it was a nice evening. once he finally settled down, he lay with his head between your boobs just burying his face in between them whilst you cuddled him.

“mhhhhm” he mumbled from in between your chest. “this would be great post-sex, and during, and pre-sex” he slurs drunkenly, lifting his head slightly to look up at you through half-lidded eyes

a smirk came over his lips, lighting his whole face up with an expression that couldn’t be described as anything less than dirty.

“wanna test that theory out?”

A/N: oh my god i spent like a week on this. lost motivation so often. pls PLS tell me if this is good or not, cause i’m hating it

#x men movies #x men #x men apocalypse #x men days of future past #peter maximoff #peter maximof x reader #peter maximoff smut #evan peters #evan peters smut #quicksilver #quicksilver smut #quicksilver x reader

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ticifics · 5 months ago

Note

Heya!! I loved your peter maximoff music fic and if you are back on your peter obsession, can I request something with him and reader going on a date and facing backlash from rude people who don't like seeing a mutant in public?? Make it as angsty or happy as you like! Thank you!!

Silver Blur

Peter Maximoff x f!reader

Summary: “I’m a failure, you know that? I have nothing. Still live in my mom’s basement. I steal stupid shit because, I don’t know, my brain doesn’t know how to work any other way. I’m weird. And, to top it all off, I’m not even really human.” He looked down at his hands, long and nimble fingers, as if they carried something dirty, something that couldn’t be fixed. “And you… you’re everything.”

Warnings: fluffy, hurt/comfort, est. relationship, no use of y/n, prejudice towards mutants, a nasty guy, a bit of 'aggression' (totally deserved), insecure!peter, human!reader

A/N: hey love! i'm glad you liked that fic and i hope you can like this one <333 we have a little bit of angst, but i couldn't make it a tragic ending. and yes, my god, i watched x-men again just to see him and he is without a doubt the highlight of the movie

The diner had a nostalgic feel to it, even though you were too young to be nostalgic for anything there. The neon lights reflected off the chrome counter, the jukebox played an upbeat melody in the background, and the smell of greasy fries and burgers lingered in the air. It was the kind of place that suited him—half retro, half chaotic, a space that seemed to exist outside of time.

Peter sat across from you, silver hair catching the colorful glow, a crooked smile playing on his lips. His silver jacket, an essential piece, gleamed under the fluorescent lights. He was leaning on his forearms, watching you with an expression that made it clear that, if it were up to him, he’d spend his whole life just looking at you.

“You know I’m not supposed to be here,” he murmured, but with no real intention of leaving.

You raised an eyebrow, bringing the straw of your milkshake to your lips. “Peter, you always say that.”

He grinned, and his dimples appeared instantly. “And I’m always right.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through your chest at the sight of him, all soft and melted for you. He wasn’t anything you ever expected to find in life, but somehow, he was everything you wanted.

And then came the first glance.

The one you felt on your skin before you even realized what was happening.

A woman at the table next to you pulled her son closer, as if Peter were some kind of creature ready to attack him. A couple in the booth across whispered something to each other, eyes fixed on him with a mix of disdain and distrust. The waiter, who had seemed friendly until now, hesitated for a second before setting the plates down unceremoniously, as if touching them was enough to get contaminated.

Peter said nothing.

You knew he noticed. He always did.

But instead of reacting, he just drummed his fingers against the tabletop, looking away. His jaw was tight, shoulders a little more tense.

Hate.

People had so much hate.

“Do you want to get out of here?” you asked, your blood boiling.

He finally looked at you. And God, those dark eyes were a damn downfall. There was still a trace of a smile on his face, but it was different now—one you recognized.

The smile that said “it’s fine” when it really wasn’t.

“No.” He picked up a fry, twirling it between his fingers before popping it into his mouth. “If I left every place where I wasn’t welcome, there wouldn’t be much left, huh?”

Your chest tightened. He said it like it was a joke. Like it didn’t hurt. Like he was used to it.

And maybe he was.

But you weren’t.

You let go of your straw, crossing your arms over the table. “If anyone says anything, I—”

Peter let out a quiet laugh, leaning back against the seat. “You’re gonna defend me?”

“Obviously.”

He tilted his head to the side, silver hair falling over his forehead. His eyes glimmered, and a real smile returned.

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

This time, you were the one to look away, feeling your cheeks burn.

But the discomfort around you was still there, pulsing like a second skin.

Peter played it off well.

So well you almost believed he really didn’t care. That the stares didn’t get to him, that the whispers didn’t burn under his skin. But you knew Peter Maximoff. And Peter Maximoff was many things—fast, chaotic, ridiculously charming—but he wasn’t unbreakable.

You saw it in his eyes.

You saw it in the way his smile started to fade, in the way his fingers traced distracted patterns on the table, never stopping. You saw it in the way he got quieter, like he was disappearing into himself.

And you saw the exact moment he started to think he shouldn’t be here.

Not just in this diner.

With you.

He dropped his gaze to the table, idly playing with the cold fries on his plate. “Hey…” he murmured, without that usual easy, teasing tone. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like if you were with someone else?”

Your heart stumbled.

“What?”

He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not saying you should, it’s just that… I think about it. A lot.”

You felt a lump in your throat.

“Peter.”

He looked away.

“I mean it. Look at you.” He gestured in the air, like he was presenting you to an invisible audience. “Beautiful, smart, cool as hell—it’s ridiculous. You could be with anyone. Any normal guy.”

“Normal,” you repeated, feeling something simmer beneath your skin.

He let out a quiet laugh, but it was empty.

“I’m a failure, you know that? I have nothing. Still live in my mom’s basement. I steal stupid shit because, I don’t know, my brain doesn’t know how to work any other way. I’m weird. And, to top it all off, I’m not even really human.” He looked down at his hands, long and nimble fingers, as if they carried something dirty, something that couldn’t be fixed. “And you… you’re everything.”

You clenched your fists on the table.

No.

No, you weren’t going to accept that.

“Peter, look at me.”

He hesitated, but obeyed.

“You’re not doing this.” Your voice was firm. “You’re not pushing me away with this bullshit speech.”

He opened his mouth, but you were faster.

“You are not a mistake, Peter. You are not a burden. You are not—” your voice faltered for a second, but you held his gaze, reaching out to take his hand, feeling his long, nimble fingers hesitate before intertwining with yours. “—a monster.”

His eyes widened, like you had just hit him square in the chest. Like he had never even considered the possibility of someone saying that out loud. He didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, just stared at you, dark eyes filled with something between shock and desperation, like he was trying to understand how the hell you could see all the good in him when he saw nothing at all.

You leaned over the table, completely ignoring the murmur around you, the strangers’ presence trying to creep into the night that belonged to the two of you. Your fingers traced the pulse at his wrist, following the line of a vein that was beating too fast, as fast as his erratic heartbeat. His face was close now, so close you could count his silver lashes, see the reflection of the diner’s neon sign dancing across his dark eyes, hear the way his breath hitched when you squeezed his hand tighter.

“You’re mine,” you murmured, each word sinking into his skin like a promise. “And I’m yours.”

His throat bobbed.

“Did you hear me, Peter?”

He blinked, dazed, like he was processing it slowly, like the idea of belonging to someone—of someone wanting to belong to him—was too distant, too impossible to be real.

So you did something that left no room for doubt.

You leaned in and kissed him.

His lips were cold from the milkshake, but his mouth gave in immediately, warm and intense and tasting like something he never, never believed he deserved. His body tensed for a second, like he was about to run, but then his hand squeezed yours tighter, and he leaned in for more, like he was trying to memorize every detail of the feeling before someone could take it away from him.

But then, the voice came.

Sharp, filled with disgust.

“You mutants never know your place.”

The world froze.

You pulled away slowly, feeling Peter’s skin stiffen under your touch, feeling his fingers turn cold around yours.

The voice came again, this time even more venomous.

“People like you aren’t welcome here.”

You turned around.

The man was big, broad shoulders, disheveled hair, his eyes carrying a very specific kind of rage. A rage that didn’t come from anything concrete, nothing he could truly explain. Just pure hatred for something he didn’t understand.

Peter didn’t say anything. He just stared, an eerily serene expression on his face.

His silence only seemed to make the man angrier.

He let out a low, sarcastic laugh, leaning over the table with a dirty smirk. “Look at you. You know you’re a freak, right, kid?”

Your blood boiled.

You didn’t care about the stares, didn’t care about the whispers or the way people seemed to subtly move away from your table, like Peter was a threat, like he was something to be feared. You knew he had dealt with this for years. You knew the words rolled off him like water, that he was too fast to care, that the best response was always a joke.

But not now.

Not when some disgusting man thought he could open his mouth and spew all that hatred like he had any right to.

You felt your chest rise and fall too fast, felt your fist clench at your side, ready to say something, do something—but then you felt it.

His hand. His long fingers slid over your wrist, a steady grip, a silent squeeze that said “no.” Peter held your hand.

And then the man turned to you. And smiled. A filthy, disgusting smile, all yellowed teeth and rotten intentions.

“Bet you’ve never been with a real man. I could show you a good time, girl.”

Peter’s hand slipped away from yours.

It was immediate.

You felt it before you even realized. The air shifted, thick with electricity, like the second before lightning splits the sky.

When you looked at Peter, he still seemed calm. But it was the dangerous kind of calm.

His mouth was still relaxed, his shoulders still loose, but his eyes—God, his eyes—held no amusement now. They were fixed on the man before him, burning like embers, scanning every inch of him like he was deciding the best way to take him apart.

And then Peter smiled. A lazy, lopsided grin, a glimmer of mockery dancing behind the threat.

“Wow.” Peter whistled. “Did you rehearse that in the mirror, or did it just come out like that?”

The man’s face darkened. Peter grinned.

“Because if it just came out like that, congrats. You’re a natural asshole.”

And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Just one second. Just a silver blur.

The man didn’t even have time to react. One moment he was standing—and the next, he was on his knees.

The entire diner went still. Glasses rattled on the tables. The air was split by the sharp sound of impact.

No one saw Peter move.

The only thing left was him, standing in front of the man now kneeling on the floor, fingers delicately gripping the collar of his worn-out jacket, like he had placed him there as easily as setting down a cup.

Peter’s eyes glowed under the diner’s red neon lights, the shadow of a smirk twisting his mouth.

“Let me tell you a secret.” His voice came low, slow. “If you open that filthy mouth again, I’ll make you swallow every word.”

The man froze.

Peter’s smirk widened.

“And trust me,” he slid a finger over the guy’s shoulder as if brushing off dust, “I’m very fast.”

The man tried to move.

Another silver blur.

And suddenly, the guy was sitting on the counter, feet dangling in the air, not even knowing how the hell he got there.

The entire diner gasped.

Peter clicked his tongue, resting an elbow on the counter, relaxed, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

“Need a map, buddy? You look lost.”

The man blinked. His hands pressed against the counter, as if trying to find balance, as if trying to understand.

Peter just smiled, and before the guy could open his mouth, he tilted his face, lowering his voice to something more intimate, almost confidential.

“Let me guess.” He rested his chin on his hand, eyes lit with a cold amusement. “You’re not feeling so brave anymore, are you?”

He snapped his fingers. Another silver blur, and the man was back on the floor.

His breath came fast, erratic.

This time, he didn’t try to speak.

Peter smiled, as if finally satisfied.

You threw a few bills onto the table, not counting, not looking, just leaving them there, as if money had any significance in the middle of that mess, as if it could pay for the man’s discomfort, for the disgusting words he had pretended didn’t affect him.

And then you turned.

He was already waiting for you. His face still slightly tilted, eyebrows raised in a mix of impatience and expectation, as if silently asking if you could finally leave.

You nodded.

And in the blink of an eye, the world disappeared.

Your stomach flipped, and your heart jumped to your throat. It was like being pulled by an invisible force, a train too fast to follow, to process—cold air cut against your skin, sounds blurred into the distance, and then, suddenly, everything stopped.

Your feet touched solid ground. The world stopped spinning.

But your body didn’t know that yet.

You blinked a few times, trying to adjust your vision.

The sky was dark, speckled with stars, the moon casting its silver glow over everything around you. The grass beneath your feet swayed gently with the wind. You were alone, no artificial lights, no whispering voices, no disgusted stares burning against his skin.

Just the two of you.

Just him.

Just Peter, now looking at you with raw concern in his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start.

“Hey.” His fingers touched your face with impossible gentleness, pushing strands of hair away from your skin, thumbs brushing slowly over your cheekbones, as if searching for something. “You okay?”

Your breath was still uneven, the adrenaline from what had happened at the diner, from the impossible journey to this place, still rushing through your veins like a reminder of how fast he was.

But he was here. Dark eyes, watchful. Fingers still on your face. His concern hung in the air, dense, almost tangible.

You closed your eyes for a second, inhaling slowly. “Just… a little dizzy.”

Relief flickered across his face. He let his hands slide down your arms, from your shoulders to your elbows, a warm, steady touch, like he was grounding you here, with him. Then he stopped—his gaze shifted.

You felt it before realizing what it was. The wind blew, sharp against your exposed skin, and before you could react, you felt something warm and soft drape over your shoulders.

His jacket.

The silver fabric still held his body heat, still smelled like him.

Peter adjusted it around you, his fingers lingering on your collarbones for a second longer than necessary before pulling away.

The silence between you was different now. Heavy. Charged. You looked at him, and he looked away.

His eyes didn’t meet yours. His jaw was clenched, shoulders tense, fingers idly playing with the zipper of his hoodie—a nervous habit you knew all too well.

Peter was never one to keep things to himself. He filled every silence with fast words and unfiltered jokes.

But now, he was quiet.

And that said more than anything he could have said.

You took a step forward, feeling the jacket move with you, his scent wrapping around you.

He noticed the movement but didn’t move.

Your fingers touched the side of his face, guiding him to look at you.

And he did.

His eyes were dark, deep, filled with something he was trying to hide, but that overflowed anyway.

You knew that look.

It was the look he had when he saw the prejudice he had faced since childhood spill onto you. It was the look of someone blaming himself for something that wasn’t his fault.

You sighed, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw, moving up into his silver hair, threading through the soft strands. He closed his eyes for a second.

Rested his forehead against yours.

Sighed.

“I hate this.”

His voice was low, restrained.

You didn’t ask what.

You already knew the answer.

He hated that you had to hear that kind of thing.

Hated that your name had been spat from the mouth of a disgusting asshole.

Hated that you had been dragged into it.

He hated that the world didn’t accept who he was.

And he hated even more that it hurt you.

You held his face more firmly, forcing him to look at you again.

"I love you."

His eyes shone.

You traced your fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, the space between his cheek and that ever-present dimple, the corner of his mouth—mapping him with care, as if reaffirming something he should never doubt.

"I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what they say."

You leaned in closer, and he stayed still, like he was absorbing every word, like he needed to hear them.

"You’re mine, remember?"

Peter swallowed hard.

A muscle jumped in his throat.

His chest rose and fell in a slower rhythm, his breathing heavy.

And then, he moved. His fingers found your face with urgency, his mouth pressing against yours without hesitation.

The kiss was slow, deep. Filled with everything he didn’t know how to say. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you in, holding you like he needed to feel that you were there, real, whole.

When he pulled back, just enough to breathe, his eyes were softer.

The weight on his shoulders seemed a little lighter.

He nudged his nose against yours, a small smile dancing at the corner of his lips.

"I’m yours, huh?"

You smiled back.

And when you answered, your voice was absolute certainty.

"Yes."

Peter smiled.

That smile. The one that was just yours. The one that made his dimples appear, that made his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, that left him looking hopelessly in love. The one you would never get tired of seeing.

He kissed your forehead, slow, his lips lingering a little longer than necessary before pulling away.

And then he laced his fingers through yours, holding your hand firmly, like he knew that even without words, that touch said everything he wanted to say.

And somehow, you knew exactly what it was.

Peter didn’t like the world.

But he liked you.

He liked you a lot.

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yonniebonnie · 2 years ago

Text

Omg he’s so cute🤭 (I wanna ride his face until my legs cramp, until his jaw locks, until my knees give out, until his nose breaks, until my voice goes out, until-)

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff #peter maximof x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver #xmen #x men days of future past #x men apocalypse #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #evan peters x female reader

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chaoticrockmusic · 5 months ago

Text

↫彡🂡"My Girl can Wear Whatever"🂡彡↬

↫Peter Maximoff↬

You were just trying to get a snack. That was it. But the moment you stepped into the kitchen, Peter nearly dropped his Twinkie.

"Whoa—" His silver brows shot up as his eyes scanned your outfit. Not in a gross way, but in a "Do I need to start running?" way.

You raised a brow. "Problem?"

Peter shook his head way too fast. "Nope! No problems here. You can wear whatever you want, babe."

Jubilee, sitting at the counter, smirked. "Really? You don’t care?"

Peter scoffed, tossing an arm around your shoulders. "Pfft. Why would I? My girl can wear whatever she wants..." He hesitated, glancing at you and then lowering his voice. "...'cause I'm scared of her."

You narrowed your eyes. "What was that last part?"

"Nothing!" He grinned nervously, stepping back. "You look amazing! Stunning! Fantastic! A completely independent person with great fashion sense! I love that for you!"

Jubilee cackled. "Dude, you are terrified of her."

"Well, yeah," Peter said without shame. "Like, you think I'm about to tell her no? You think I got a death wish? Nah, I value my life, I like my face. I’d like to keep it in one piece."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a granola bar from the pantry. "Good answer, Maximoff."

Peter sighed in relief. You were scary, but hey, at least you were his scary.

彡Logan彡

Logan had been minding his business at the bar when you walked in, dressed in something that made half the room do a double take.

He noticed. Oh, he definitely noticed. But instead of reacting like some jealous, overprotective boyfriend, he just sipped his whiskey.

It was not until some guy at the pool table let his eyes linger a second too long that Logan made a noise in the back of his throat—a low, rumbling ahem that sent a very clear message.

The guy turned, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Logan smirked, tapping a single claw against his glass. "Nothin'. Just wonderin' if you're stupid or just feelin' lucky tonight."

The guy scoffed. "Relax, old man, it's just a look."

"Mm. See, I ain’t too worried ‘bout what she wears." Logan tilted his head, eyes sharp. "She can wear whatever she wants… ‘cause I can fight." He flashed his Adamantium claws.

The guy raised his hands and backed off real quick. Logan just chuckled, downing the rest of his drink.

You leaned against the bar beside him. "You always gotta scare people?"

He shrugged. "Ain’t my fault they spook easy."

You smirked. "You are such a show-off."

Logan just grunted, but the way he slid a possessive arm around your waist told you everything you needed to know.

🂡Remy LeBeau🂡

Remy was kicked back on the mansion's couch, long legs stretched out, flipping a poker chip between his fingers. He had seen you walk in, noticed the way heads turned, but unlike the others, he did not bat an eye.

Jubilee, being Jubilee, could not help but stir the pot. "Remy, you just gonna let her walk around like that?"

Remy did not even look up from his poker chip. "Remy think his chérie can wear whatever she want," he said lazily.

"Yeah?" Jubilee smirked. "You that confident?"

He flicked the chip up, caught it between two fingers, and finally smirked. "Mm-hmm. ‘Cause she's a houe, and I knew that before we started dating."

Gasps. Laughter. Even Logan huffed out an amused breath from the other side of the room.

Your eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Remy grinned, finally looking at you. "What? You know it’s true, chérie. I fell for you ‘cause you a heartbreaker. A flirt. A menace." He tilted his head, voice dropping to a lazy drawl. "And yet, here we are."

You crossed your arms. "That does not make it better, you know."

"But it is true, non?" He flashed that dangerous, charming grin. "An’ I do not mind one bit."

You rolled your eyes, but you could not stop the small smirk tugging at your lips. Damn Cajun and his smooth talk.

Jubilee snorted. "I hate that he actually got away with that."

Remy just winked.

Hope you all enjoyed!! Love you all, kits! (houe means hoe in French. Idk what else to put there T ' T)

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amethystarachnid · 4 months ago

Note

For your love event, how about ‘Romantic Road Trip’ for Pietro Maximoff (MCU) x fem!reader? There’re so many possibilities; stopping at little off-road diners and view points, taking turns driving, enjoying the scenery. And of course, some ‘alone time’ in little motels or in the car. 😘 Whatever comes to mind for you. Have a good one. 👋

ROAD TRIP

⤷ PIETRO MAXIMOFF

ᯓ★ Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance, rom-com

ᯓ★ Word count: 6k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): some spicy scenes , nothing too explicit

ᯓ★ I love Pietro so much, please request more of him lol <3

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The road stretches out before you, endless and open, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through rolling hills and golden fields. The sky above is a vast expanse of blue, streaked with wisps of white clouds, the kind that seem to drift lazily despite the world moving at its own steady pace. But beside you, in the driver’s seat, there is no laziness, no patience—just restless energy contained in the shape of Pietro Maximoff.

His fingers tap against the steering wheel, drumming a rhythm to the music humming softly from the radio. His foot bounces against the floorboard, betraying his natural instinct to move faster than the world allows. The speedometer remains at a legal pace, but you can tell it’s taking every ounce of restraint for him to keep it that way.

You glance at him, watching as he shifts in his seat, silver hair catching in the sunlight. He’s beautiful like this, in the daylight, in the quiet moments where there are no fights to be fought, no missions to complete—just him, just you, just the road. His lips curve into a smirk when he catches you staring.

“Something on my face, dragă?” he teases, his Sokovian accent wrapping around the affectionate word.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Just making sure you’re actually paying attention to the road and not daydreaming about running instead.”

He scoffs, feigning offense. “I am an excellent driver. You wound me.”

You snort. “You almost ran a red light back in the last town.”

Pietro grins, shrugging one shoulder. “Almost. But I didn’t.”

You shake your head, leaning back into your seat, letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin through the window. The car hums along the road, the engine a steady presence beneath you. It’s been hours since you left the city behind, and now the landscape is shifting—less concrete, more green, trees growing taller, nature reclaiming the space around you.

It was your idea to take this road trip. To get away from everything, even just for a while. No deadlines, no responsibilities, no running from danger or racing toward a crisis. Just the two of you, exploring, getting lost, taking the long way if you felt like it. Pietro, surprisingly, agreed without argument. You suspect it’s because he’d go anywhere with you, so long as you were by his side.

His hand suddenly reaches over, fingers lacing through yours. His skin is warm, always slightly buzzing, a contrast to the cool metal of the rings on your fingers. You squeeze his hand gently, and he brings yours up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles before resting your joined hands on his thigh.

“You still sure you can handle driving for this long?” you ask, tilting your head toward him. “I mean, it’s got to be torture for you.”

Pietro chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s worth it. If I run, you miss the journey. And I would rather be stuck in slow motion forever than miss a single second of this with you.”

Your chest tightens at his words, at the sincerity in his voice. No matter how much he jokes, no matter how much he acts like everything is easy and carefree, there’s a depth to his love that always leaves you breathless.

“You’re such a sap,” you murmur, but you don’t pull away.

“Only for you, iubirea mea.”

The road continues on, winding through forests and valleys, past lakes that glitter in the afternoon sun. You make stops whenever something catches your eye—a roadside fruit stand where you buy fresh peaches and cherries, a scenic overlook where the world stretches out beneath you, an expanse of green and gold, mountains rising in the distance.

Pietro leans against the railing, arms crossed, eyes scanning the view. “I could run to the top of that mountain in two seconds.”

You elbow him lightly. “But would you actually take the time to enjoy it?”

He turns to you, considering. “With you? Yes.”

The air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and wildflowers. The world is so quiet here, the only sounds the distant call of birds, the rustle of leaves in the breeze. It’s a kind of peace you don’t often get, and you let it settle over you, grounding you.

Pietro’s fingers brush against your arm, trailing up until he cups your cheek, tilting your face toward him. His eyes, impossibly blue, study you for a long moment before he leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. You taste the sweetness of the cherries he stole from the bag in the car, the warmth of the sun still clinging to his skin.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. “This is nice,” he murmurs.

You hum in agreement. “Yeah. It really is.”

And for once, neither of you are in a hurry to move.

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the road as you and Pietro drive further into the countryside. You’re somewhere between one small town and the next, where the only signs of life are the occasional farmhouse, distant cows grazing in open fields, and the towering trees lining the highway.

Your stomach rumbles, and Pietro’s sharp ears don’t miss it. He smirks, squeezing your hand. “Hungry already? We had those peaches an hour ago.”

You groan, pressing a hand to your stomach. “Peaches aren’t a meal, Piet. We need real food.”

As if on cue, a neon sign flashes in the distance—a little roadside diner sitting just off the main road. It looks like it belongs in a different time, with its red-and-white checkered exterior, a neon sign in the shape of a coffee cup blinking in and out, and a row of motorcycles parked out front. It’s the kind of place that probably serves greasy burgers and thick milkshakes, the kind that sticks to your ribs in the best way.

Pietro slows the car as you grin, pointing excitedly. “Look! Let’s stop here.”

He chuckles, pulling into the small gravel parking lot. “If that’s what my love wants, then who am I to deny her?”

The inside of the diner is exactly what you expect—red vinyl booths, a jukebox playing an old rock song, and the scent of coffee and fried food hanging in the air. A few patrons sit scattered across the space—an elderly couple sipping coffee by the window, a group of bikers chatting in a booth, and a waitress leaning against the counter, flipping through a magazine.

She looks up when you walk in, offering a friendly smile. “Take a seat wherever you’d like, hon. I’ll be right with you.”

You slide into a booth by the window, and Pietro sits across from you, already reaching for one of the menus tucked behind the napkin dispenser. He flips through it at lightning speed before tossing it down. “I want everything.”

You snort. “Try to pace yourself, Speedy.”

The waitress, whose name tag reads Linda, walks over with two glasses of water. She eyes Pietro with amusement. “You look like you could eat a whole cow, sugar.”

He grins. “Would that be an option?”

She laughs, shaking her head as she pulls out a notepad. “What’ll it be?”

You skim the menu, biting your lip. “I’ll take the cheeseburger with fries, please.”

“And a vanilla milkshake,” Pietro adds for you, winking.

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. He knows you too well.

Linda turns to Pietro. “And for you?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Two bacon cheeseburgers, extra-large fries, and… let’s make it two milkshakes. One chocolate, one strawberry.”

Linda whistles, jotting it all down. “Damn, boy. Where do you put it all?”

Pietro smirks, tapping his stomach. “Fast metabolism.”

She shakes her head, amused, before heading off to place the order.

As you wait for the food, you watch the sun dip lower outside, the sky melting into warm oranges and purples. The glow reflects in Pietro’s eyes as he leans back in the booth, stretching his arms behind his head.

“This is nice,” you murmur, sipping your water.

He raises an eyebrow. “You say that like you expected it not to be.”

You shrug. “It’s just… I don’t know. Sometimes I forget how good it feels to just be normal. No missions, no running, no near-death experiences. Just… burgers in a diner with you.”

Pietro’s expression softens. He reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. “Then we’ll do this more often.”

Your heart swells as you squeeze his fingers.

Linda returns, setting down your plates with a practiced ease. “Here you go, lovebirds. Enjoy.”

You waste no time digging in, and neither does Pietro. The food is exactly what you hoped for—greasy, messy, and delicious. The milkshake is thick and creamy, and you’re pretty sure you’ll be full for days, but it’s worth it.

Pietro finishes his burgers in record time and steals some of your fries when he thinks you’re not looking. You swat at his hand, but he only grins, unrepentant.

When the check comes, Pietro pulls out his wallet, but you snatch it before he can. “I’m paying.”

He pouts. “You never let me pay.”

You smirk. “Then maybe you should be faster.”

His eyes narrow playfully. “That’s a challenge.”

You laugh, handing Linda the cash before he can argue further. She chuckles, shaking her head. “You two are somethin’ else.”

Once you’re back in the car, you stretch your arms with a content sigh. “Alright, switch. I’m driving.”

Pietro frowns. “You sure?”

“Yes.” You shoot him a look. “You’ve been good, but I can see how much you’re struggling not to speed.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you raise an eyebrow, daring him to argue. He huffs but gets out of the car, moving to the passenger seat. “Fine. But if you get tired—”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you promise, starting the engine.

The road stretches on as the sky darkens, and soon, the neon glow of the diner fades behind you. The world becomes quieter, the hum of the tires against the pavement the only sound besides the occasional song playing on the radio. Pietro fidgets beside you, tapping his fingers against his knee, but he doesn’t complain.

The air outside cools, the scent of rain lingering faintly. The road winds through dense trees now, and the headlights cast long shadows. It’s almost eerie how empty the road is—no cars, no signs of life, just the two of you moving through the dark.

Eventually, a flickering sign appears ahead—a small, rundown motel sitting at the edge of the highway. It’s one of those places that probably hasn’t been updated in decades, the kind you’d see in an old movie. The neon sign buzzes, letters half-burned out so that “VACANCY” is the only word visible.

Pietro gives it a once-over and groans. “This is where we’re staying?”

You park and unbuckle your seatbelt. “It’s all we’ve got until the next town, unless you really want to sleep in the car.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine. But if I hear even one weird noise, I’m running us to a five-star hotel.”

You grin, taking his hand as you walk to the front desk. The inside is just as outdated as the outside—musty carpet, wood-paneled walls, and a sleepy-looking man behind the desk watching an old TV.

You check in quickly, grabbing the key for your room. The hallway smells like stale air freshener, and the walls are a questionable shade of yellow. Your room isn’t much better—a creaky bed, dim lighting, and a tiny TV that looks like it hasn’t worked in years.

Pietro looks around, unimpressed. “I think I would prefer the car.”

You laugh, tossing your bag onto the bed. “Oh, shut up. It’s fine.”

He flops down on the mattress, testing the springs. “Barely.”

You roll your eyes, kicking off your shoes before joining him. The bed dips under his weight, and he immediately wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. His body is warm, comforting. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

After a moment, he murmurs, “This is still nice.”

You smile against his shirt. “Yeah. It really is.”

And despite the flickering light outside, the slightly creepy motel, and the worn-down room, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

The motel room is dimly lit, the single lamp on the nightstand casting a warm glow over the faded wallpaper. The air is cool from the rattling AC unit in the corner, but Pietro’s body is warm beside you, his arm draped lazily across your waist.

You shift slightly, adjusting against the lumpy mattress, and Pietro hums, his lips brushing against your temple. “Comfortable?”

You snort. “Not really. But I’ve slept in worse.”

He chuckles, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. “We could always find somewhere else.”

You sigh, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “No, it’s fine. We’re only here for the night.”

His hand slides lower, teasing at the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming your skin. “Then we should make the most of it, iubirea mea.”

You roll onto your side, facing him, your noses barely an inch apart. His blue eyes darken, lips quirking in that cocky smirk that always makes your stomach flip. “Oh?” you murmur, voice playful.

He doesn’t bother answering with words. Instead, he leans in, kissing you slow and deep, fingers gripping your waist. His other hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You melt against him, sighing as his lips move down your jaw, to that spot on your neck that always makes you shiver.

Pietro grins against your skin. “I love how responsive you are, dragă.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, threading your fingers into his silver hair and pulling him back to your lips. He groans softly, his body pressing more firmly against yours, and you shift beneath him, feeling heat coil in your stomach.

Then—

Creeeak.

The bed lets out a loud, high-pitched squeak as Pietro moves, the old mattress springs groaning in protest.

You both freeze.

Pietro lifts his head, brows furrowing. “Did that—?”

Before he can finish, he adjusts his weight again—

SCREEEEEEAK.

You slap a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your laugh. Pietro, however, looks deeply offended, as if the bed has personally betrayed him.

“Oh, come on,” he mutters, shifting again just to test it.

The bed responds with another loud, obnoxious squeal.

You lose it, burying your face in his shoulder as laughter bubbles out of you. Pietro groans, flopping onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “This is the worst motel in existence.”

As if on cue, there’s a loud bang against the wall from the room next door, followed by a gruff voice yelling, “Hey! Whatever you’re doing, cut it out!”

You slap a hand over your mouth again, eyes wide. Pietro stares at you, then at the wall, then back at you. His lips twitch.

“Are we being cockblocked by a motel wall?”

That’s it. You break into uncontrollable laughter, curling into his side as you struggle to breathe. Pietro groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate this place.”

Another bang on the wall. “I mean it! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

Pietro glares at the wall, sitting up. “Some of us are trying to live, old man!” he yells back.

You grab his arm, still laughing. “Oh my God, Pietro—”

“What?” He gestures to the bed in frustration. “This is a crime against romance! This bed is cursed!”

You wipe at your eyes, still giggling. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

He groans dramatically, flopping back onto the mattress. “Fine. But I’m holding a grudge against this motel forever.”

You snuggle into his side, still smiling. He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I promise, next time, we find a place with better structural integrity.”

“Deal.”

Despite the rough mattress and the squeaky bed, sleep comes easier than expected. You drift off to the steady rise and fall of Pietro’s breathing, the warmth of his body grounding you.

But sometime in the middle of the night, the weight of everything crashes over you.

You wake up suddenly, your heart pounding, an ache settling in your chest like a stone. The dark motel room feels suffocating, memories creeping in like shadows. The road trip was meant to be an escape—a chance to leave everything behind—but no matter how far you drive, the past clings to you.

Pietro stirs beside you, instantly attuned to your change in breathing. “Dragă?” His voice is thick with sleep, but laced with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow hard, shaking your head. “Nothing. Just… bad dreams.”

He doesn’t buy it. He never does. Instead of pressing, he just tightens his grip around you, holding you closer, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m here,” he murmurs.

And somehow, that helps.

You focus on the rhythm of his heartbeat, slow and steady. His fingers trace gentle circles on your back, soothing you without words.

Eventually, your breathing evens out, and you let yourself sink into him, letting the weight of his presence push away the heaviness in your chest.

The next morning, you wake to the golden light of sunrise filtering through the curtains. Pietro is already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. When he notices you stirring, he turns, offering a small smile. “Morning, iubirea mea.”

You sit up, stretching. “Morning. How long have you been up?”

“Not long.” He watches you for a moment before brushing a thumb across your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

You hesitate, then exhale. “Better.”

He nods, satisfied, and stands. “Good. Because I say we get the hell out of this cursed motel and find somewhere with real breakfast.”

You laugh, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “Sounds like a plan.”

After a quick shower and a mediocre cup of motel coffee, you check out, handing the key back to the front desk. The man barely acknowledges you, too engrossed in his morning news program.

Pietro mutters under his breath as you walk back to the car. “Worst night of my life.”

You elbow him playfully. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

He levels you with a flat look. “We were interrupted by an angry neighbor, the bed sounded like it was screaming, and I didn’t get to ravish my beautiful girlfriend.”

You snicker, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Tragic.”

He sighs, dramatic as ever, before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Drive, iubirea mea. Take me far away from this place.”

With a smile, you start the engine, the open road stretching ahead of you once more.

The road trip continues with a comfortable rhythm—music playing softly, Pietro’s hand resting on your thigh, and the landscape rolling by in a blur of green and gold. The air smells fresher out here, far from the city, just endless roads and nature stretching for miles.

Pietro keeps himself entertained by messing with the radio, flipping through stations at lightning speed. You swat at his hand when the static becomes unbearable.

“Pietro, pick a station and leave it.”

He smirks, finally settling on an oldies station. “Better?”

You sigh. “I’ll take it.”

A few hours pass with pit stops at random places—a general store where Pietro buys an obscene amount of snacks, a giant roadside statue of a cowboy that he insists on taking a selfie with, and a gas station where he challenges you to a race around the lot (he wins, obviously, but you demand a rematch in a place where he can’t use his speed).

Then, as the afternoon heat begins to settle in, you spot it—a shimmering blue lake peeking through the trees just off the highway.

You gasp, grabbing Pietro’s arm. “A lake!”

He raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And we have swimsuits.”

Pietro’s grin is instant. “Say no more.”

The lake is as perfect as it looked from the road—clear water, sunlit ripples, and a peaceful quiet only interrupted by the sound of birds and rustling leaves. It’s practically begging for you to dive in.

Pietro, being himself, is changed in seconds, already bare-chested in his swim trunks before you even finish fishing your swimsuit out of your bag.

You blink, momentarily distracted.

You’ve always known your boyfriend is obscenely attractive, but something about seeing him out in nature, all golden skin and sculpted muscles, makes your brain short-circuit. His silver hair is messily tousled from the wind, his sharp jawline catching the sunlight just right.

He catches you staring and smirks. “Like what you see, dragă?”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be unimpressed. “Meh.”

He gasps in exaggerated offense. “Meh?”

Before you can react, he uses his speed to scoop you up and spin you around. You yelp, laughing as he carries you toward the water.

“Pietro! Put me down!”

“Oh, I will.”

He wades into the lake and, without warning, drops you into the cool water.

You resurface, sputtering, and glare at him. “You absolute menace!”

He’s grinning like a devil, standing waist-deep in the water. “I’m sorry, iubirea mea. You were taking too long.”

Narrowing your eyes, you lunge at him, attempting revenge. Pietro, of course, dodges effortlessly, but he’s laughing, arms out as if daring you to try again.

Eventually, after some playful splashing and a failed attempt to dunk him, you both just float in the water, the sun warming your skin as you relax.

Pietro swims closer, tilting his head as his eyes roam over you. “You know, I was about to make fun of you for staring at me earlier…”

You raise an eyebrow. “But?”

He smirks, gaze lingering on your body. “Now I’m the one staring.”

A flush spreads across your skin, but you try to play it cool. “You’re so obvious.”

His hands find your waist under the water, pulling you closer. “Only for you.”

You rest your arms on his shoulders, fingers threading into his wet hair. He kisses you—slow and deep, tasting like lake water and sunlight.

The moment stretches, warm and perfect, until—

HONK!

Both of you jump as a car horn blares from the road nearby. You whip your head around, spotting an RV parked on the shoulder. A group of older women leans out of the windows, cheering.

“LOOK AT THE LOVE BIRDS!” one of them hollers.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, covering your face.

Pietro, on the other hand, grins and waves. “Hello, beautiful ladies!”

More honking. More cheering. One woman even whistles.

You groan, sinking lower into the water. “Can we go before they start giving relationship advice?”

Pietro snickers but obliges, grabbing your hand as you wade back to shore.

Once you’re dried off and back in the car, the post-swim drowsiness settles in. The sun is beginning to dip, the air cooler now, the road stretching ahead in golden light.

You and Pietro decide to rest for a while, pulling over at a scenic overlook with a breathtaking view of the forest below.

The backseat of the car is surprisingly comfortable, seats pushed back just enough to lounge in. You curl up against Pietro, both of you still warm from the sun and water.

His fingers trace gentle circles on your thigh, a lazy rhythm. “This is nice.”

You hum in agreement, eyes half-closed. “Yeah. It really is.”

There’s a pause. Then—

“You know,” Pietro murmurs, voice lower now, “we still haven’t made up for last night.”

You blink, turning your head to look at him. His blue eyes are heavy-lidded, his smirk wicked.

Heat blooms in your stomach instantly. “Oh?”

His fingers slide up your thigh, slow and teasing. “Mmm.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your jaw. “And I don’t hear any squeaky motel beds or angry neighbors.”

Your heart pounds. The way he’s looking at you—like he’s about to devour you—sends a thrill down your spine.

You swallow. “We’re in a car.”

His smirk grows. “Exactly.”

There’s something so Pietro about this—his impatience, his need to make up for lost time. And honestly? You’re not about to stop him.

The car windows fog up as his hands explore your body, pulling you into his lap, his lips moving against yours with desperate hunger.

The rest of the world fades away—the lake, the road, everything outside this little bubble of heat and need.

And this time?

No one interrupts.

The sun has fully set by the time you and Pietro find yourselves back on the road, your bodies still thrumming from what just happened in the backseat. The car smells faintly of sweat and lake water, the windows still slightly fogged despite your best efforts to clear them.

Pietro has the smuggest grin on his face, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel as he glances at you. “Feeling good, iubirea mea?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the satisfied smile on your lips. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingers against the dashboard. “And yet, you love me.”

You shake your head, pretending to be exasperated, but the truth is, you do love him. Everything about him. Even when he’s being an insufferable tease.

Your stomach grumbles suddenly, ruining the moment. Pietro raises an eyebrow, amused. “Looks like someone worked up an appetite.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Well, maybe if someone hadn’t distracted me—”

“Oh, please, you were just as eager as I was.”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, you spot a neon-lit diner glowing in the distance. It’s the kind of place that looks like it hasn’t changed since the ‘50s—chrome details, red vinyl booths, a flickering OPEN sign.

You point to it. “There. Food.”

Pietro hums, pulling into the lot. “Fine, but only because I don’t want you fainting on me before round two.”

Your cheeks heat up, but you ignore him as you hop out of the car, stretching your legs. The air is cool now, a welcome contrast to the earlier heat.

Inside, the diner is exactly what you expected—old-fashioned, cozy, and smelling like fresh coffee and greasy food. A waitress with a beehive hairdo greets you with a tired but kind smile, gesturing toward an empty booth by the window.

Pietro slides in across from you, instantly stealing a menu from your side. “Let’s see… What’s the biggest thing on this menu?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why do I feel like you’re about to make this an eating contest?”

He grins. “Because you know me so well.”

The waitress returns, and Pietro doesn’t hesitate before ordering a double cheeseburger, a plate of chili fries, and a milkshake. You opt for a regular burger and fries, shaking your head at his ridiculous metabolism.

As you wait for the food, Pietro’s fingers find yours across the table, absentmindedly tracing patterns over your skin. It’s a small thing, but it makes your chest feel warm.

“You know,” he says, tilting his head, “we could just sleep in the car tonight. Avoid any more cursed motel beds.”

You smirk. “And miss out on an actual bed after what we just did? No way.”

Pietro groans. “But what if we end up next to another angry old man?”

“Well,” you tease, “we just have to be quieter this time.”

He leans forward, voice dropping to a low murmur. “I don’t do quiet, dragă.”

Heat coils in your stomach at the promise in his tone, but before you can respond, the waitress arrives with your food. You both dig in, conversation flowing easily between bites—stories from past travels, dumb jokes, Pietro complaining about how slow the food service is even though it’s only been five minutes.

By the time you finish, you’re pleasantly full, stretching your arms as Pietro leaves a generous tip and grabs your hand, pulling you toward the exit.

“Alright,” he sighs as you step back outside, “let’s go find this hopefully-not-terrible motel.”

The motel you end up at is marginally better than the last one.

It’s still a little rundown, but the bed looks sturdy, the sheets actually smell clean, and—most importantly—there are no suspicious stains or noises coming from the next room.

Pietro eyes it warily as you set your bags down. “Well… I guess this will do.”

You snort, kicking off your shoes. “You’re such a diva.”

“I have standards, iubirea mea.”

Rolling your eyes, you flop onto the bed, testing it. It creaks slightly, but nothing like the nightmare from last night. “See? This one isn’t that bad.”

Pietro stretches, his shirt riding up just enough to tease a glimpse of his toned stomach. “I suppose I can make it work…”

You catch his smirk just before he pounces, landing beside you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know,” he murmurs, “we did say we’d make up for last night.”

Your pulse quickens. “That we did.”

His fingers skim along your arm, feather-light, before trailing lower, tracing the hem of your shirt. “And you were right,” he adds, voice husky, “an actual bed does sound nice after all.”

Before you can respond, he flips you onto your back, hovering over you with a wicked grin. His lips find your throat, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

You sigh, tilting your head to give him more access. “Pietro…”

He hums against your collarbone. “Mmm?”

“You really don’t do quiet, do you?”

He lifts his head, grinning. “Not a chance.”

Then he kisses you—deep, hungry, possessive. His hands slide under your shirt, fingers splaying against your bare skin as he moves lower, his breath warm against your neck.

The rest of the world ceases to exist.

No motel beds creaking too loudly. No angry neighbors.

Just him. Just you. Just the way your bodies move together, tangled in sheets that, for once, don’t feel cursed.

This time, the only sounds filling the room are soft gasps, whispered praises, and Pietro’s name falling from your lips like a prayer.

The rest of the road trip is like something out of a dream.

After the very satisfying night at the motel, you and Pietro wake up in a tangle of limbs, warm and content. He’s already wide awake, of course—his body clock runs as fast as the rest of him—but he doesn’t move right away. Instead, he just watches you, fingertips tracing lazy circles over your hip as the morning light filters through the cheap curtains.

“Morning, iubirea mea,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You sigh happily, stretching. “Morning.”

He smirks, voice still thick with sleep. “So, was that a decent night of passion, or do we need to find another motel just to be sure?”

You laugh, nudging his chest. “I think we confirmed it multiple times.”

He grins, rolling onto his back with a satisfied groan. “Good. Because I’m feeling very accomplished.”

The next few days are a perfect blur of long drives, roadside attractions, and stolen kisses whenever Pietro thinks you’re not paying attention (or when he just wants your attention, which is always).

You stop at a sunflower field along the way, running through the golden stalks as Pietro speeds ahead, picking the biggest, brightest flower and tucking it behind your ear. He pulls you in for a slow kiss, murmuring against your lips, “You’re still prettier.”

You roll your eyes. “Smooth.”

“Always.”

Another day, you come across an abandoned train yard, the rusted tracks twisting through overgrown grass. Pietro challenges you to a balance contest, walking along the rails with perfect ease while you wobble like a newborn deer. He catches you when you stumble, laughing as he scoops you up.

“You’re terrible at this,” he teases.

“I don’t have super speed to cheat with!”

He grins. “Then you better hold on tight.”

Before you can protest, he takes off with you in his arms, zipping through the train cars, the wind whipping past as you laugh breathlessly.

There’s a late-night stop at an all-night diner, where Pietro orders an obscene amount of pancakes just to “see how many he can eat before he gets bored.” (The answer is fifteen, but he insists he could’ve gone for twenty if you hadn’t distracted him with a milkshake to the nose.)

There’s a tiny bookstore in a small town where you browse the shelves while Pietro sits in an armchair, flipping through a random book at super speed before dramatically declaring, “I’ve read them all. Let’s go.”

You groan. “You are the worst person to bring to a bookstore.”

And then there’s the night you find a secluded little hilltop overlooking a valley, the stars sprawled endlessly above you. Pietro spreads out a blanket, pulling you into his lap as you both sip cheap gas station wine and make up ridiculous constellations.

“That one looks like a very handsome man who is incredibly fast,” Pietro says smugly, pointing at a random cluster of stars.

You squint. “It looks like a potato.”

He gasps in mock offense. “You wound me.”

You grin, leaning against him. “It’s a very sexy potato, though.”

He hums, arms tightening around you. “I’ll accept it.”

And for a while, everything is perfect. Just you, Pietro, and the open road, with no responsibilities pulling you back.

Until your phone rings.

It happens on the fifth day, just as you’re fueling up at a gas station in the middle of nowhere.

You’re standing by the car, stretching your arms after a long drive, while Pietro is inside, raiding the snack aisle for the fifth time that day. The sun is warm on your skin, the air still and quiet.

Then—your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You pull it out, frowning when you see the caller ID.

TONY STARK.

Your stomach drops.

You hesitate for half a second before answering. “Hey, Tony.”

“Hey, kid,” comes the familiar voice on the other end. “Hope you’re enjoying your little romantic getaway, but I need you and Speedy back at HQ. Now.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

“It’s a mission. Big one. And we need both of you. So wrap up your little road trip, make out one last time, and get moving.”

You groan, rubbing your forehead. “Tony, we’re literally in the middle of nowhere—”

“Then run. You’ve got a human rocket for a boyfriend.”

Before you can argue, he hangs up.

You stare at your phone for a moment, processing.

Then, with a sigh, you turn toward the gas station just as Pietro comes bounding out, arms full of snacks.

“I got us more gummy bears, and I found those weird chips you like—” He pauses when he sees your expression, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

You exhale. “We have to go back.”

Pietro frowns. “What? Why?”

“Tony just called. There’s a mission. He needs us both.”

Pietro groans, dramatically dropping his snacks onto the hood of the car. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

He drags a hand down his face. “Of course Stark ruins our fun.”

You step closer, placing a hand on his chest. “I know. I don’t want to leave either. But… we have to.”

Pietro sighs, running his fingers through his silver hair. He looks at you, blue eyes flickering with frustration before softening.

“Fine,” he mutters. “But next time? We take a vacation where no one can call us.”

You smile. “Deal.”

He huffs, then gestures for you to climb onto his back. “Alright, dragă. Hold on tight.”

You do, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he secures you in his grip.

Then, in a blink, the world blurs around you.

The road trip is over.

And the real world comes rushing back.

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