#Pietro smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mintyys-blog · 1 month ago

Text

CHALLENGE— hip hop dancer! pietro maximoff x ballerina! reader

WARNINGS: smut.

Y/N had always loved her ballet studio. It was her sanctuary—quiet, disciplined, and familiar. So when she found out the neighboring studio space had been rented out for hip-hop dancers, she didn’t think much of it. She wasn’t opposed to the idea. Different styles, different rhythms. Art was art. As long as they respected the space, she had no reason to mind.

At least, not at first.

The first few weeks pass without issue, though Y/N occasionally hears the bass from next door vibrating through the walls. She doesn’t let it bother her. After all, her focus is on her craft, her perfect pirouettes, and controlled leaps. If the music gets a little loud, she tunes it out.

But then, one afternoon, everything shifts.

Y/N walks to the studio with Natasha, laughing about something trivial. The moment they pass the open doorway of the hip-hop studio, a few of the guys lounging by the entrance notice them. One of them whistles low, another one mutters, “Hey, ballerina girl, show us a twirl.” It’s nothing crude, but it still makes Y/N’s stomach twist. Natasha bristles immediately, her hand already curling into a fist.

“I’m gonna—” Natasha starts, but Y/N catches her arm, shaking her head subtly. She doesn’t want trouble, not over some harmless words. Not when it can be ignored. So she pulls Natasha inside, shutting the door firmly behind them.

“Forget it,” Y/N says, brushing it off, but her hands tremble slightly as she ties her ballet shoes.

Still, that interaction lingers. Suddenly, the bass thumping next door feels louder. The walls feel thinner. And even though Y/N tells herself it’s not worth thinking about, she finds her concentration wavering. The calm she usually feels in the studio is cracked, just slightly.

The next few days, the catcalls stop—maybe because Natasha shoots daggers at the open doorway every time they walk by—but the music remains. Loud, fast, unpredictable. It interrupts the smooth flow of Y/N’s movements, her perfect concentration. She starts noticing the way her toes flex harder in her shoes, her jaw clenching at every heavy bass drop.

And then comes the final crack. A particularly loud afternoon, where the music blares through the walls so fiercely that her instructor has to pause their rehearsal. Frustration simmers in the air, and Natasha finally says what they’re all thinking.

“We should say something.”

Y/N hesitates. She doesn’t want to start drama, but the truth is, it’s getting unbearable. So with Natasha at her side, she walks next door. Not angry, just… firm. Calm.

When the door swings open, Y/N is caught off-guard. The man who opens it isn’t some random dancer—he’s Pietro Maximoff. Shirtless, skin glistening with sweat, his hair tousled like he’s just come off the floor. And those abs—well, they’re definitely distracting.

Natasha elbows her sharply, snapping her back to reality.

Y/N clears her throat, forcing her gaze upward, meeting his smirk. “Um, sir, do you mind turning down the music a bit? It’s coming through to our studio.”

She expects resistance, maybe a laugh, or even some flirtatious challenge. But Pietro just leans against the doorframe, his grin never wavering.

“Sure thing, princessa,” he says smoothly, the nickname sliding off his tongue like honey.

Y/N blinks, caught off-guard by how easily he gives in. No argument, no teasing. Just… agreement. He calls over his shoulder, telling someone named Bucky to lower the volume. Within seconds, the music softens.

“Thank you,” Natasha says, though her gaze is still wary.

Y/N nods stiffly, murmuring her own thanks. She turns quickly, walking back into her studio with Natasha close behind.

But she can feel Pietro’s eyes on her as she walks away. Like a slow burn—smoldering, patient, waiting.

Y/N tells herself to forget about it. That brief moment at the door—Pietro’s smirk, the smooth way princessa slid off his tongue—it’s nothing. Just an encounter, just a guy being casually flirtatious. She has more important things to focus on. Like perfecting her turns and holding her arabesque just a little longer. Like keeping her mind clear and her movements cleaner.

But forgetting proves harder than she thought.

The next time Y/N walks into the studio, she catches herself glancing toward the neighboring door. She hears the music, softer now, but still pulsing beneath the walls like a heartbeat. The same beat that seems to pulse in her mind, a constant reminder of who’s just next door.

Natasha notices. She always does.

“Don’t,” Y/N says quickly, before Natasha can even open her mouth.

Natasha just shrugs, but the knowing smile on her lips is infuriating.

⸻

Later that week, Y/N stays late after class, practicing alone. The studio is empty, quiet, the kind of silence that usually calms her. But tonight, it feels heavy. Like the quiet is pressing too hard against her skin.

She’s mid-pirouette when the door opens. Her heart lurches—but it’s only Natasha, leaning casually against the frame.

“You’re still here?” Natasha asks, arms crossed.

“I needed more practice,” Y/N says, breathless. “My form feels off.”

Natasha’s gaze lingers for a moment, then she steps inside. “You mean you needed an excuse to stay late and see if he was still next door?”

Y/N freezes, shooting her a glare. “That’s not—”

But before she can finish, music filters through the wall. Softer now, a rhythm steady enough to catch her attention.

“I’m just saying,” Natasha says, “if you want to talk to him, you should.”

Y/N looks down at her toes, at the tension in her ankles, in her hands. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

Natasha doesn’t argue. She just raises a brow, smirking.

⸻

The next time it happens, Y/N isn’t expecting it.

She’s leaving the studio after another long practice, her hair pulled loose, ballet shoes slung over her shoulder. As she steps out, the door to the hip-hop studio swings open, and there he is—Pietro. Shirtless again, his skin damp with sweat, hair a tousled mess. He’s laughing about something, his voice rough and easy, but when he spots her, his grin widens.

“Working late, princessa?” he teases, stepping closer.

Y/N hates the way her stomach flips, how warmth curls up her spine at the nickname. She doesn’t let it show. “Some of us believe in discipline,” she says coolly.

Pietro chuckles, leaning against the doorframe like he has all the time in the world. “And some of us believe in fun.”

“Fun doesn’t win competitions,” she says, her voice sharper than intended.

“Doesn’t it?” His gaze drops slightly, lingering on her face, and for a moment, it feels heavier than just words. “Maybe you’re just dancing to the wrong music.”

Y/N’s throat tightens, but she forces a casual shrug. “I’m fine with my music.”

Pietro watches her for a beat longer, his smirk lazy but his eyes sharp. Then he nods, stepping back inside.

“Sure, princessa,” he says, just before the door closes. “Whatever you say.”

⸻

After that day, Y/N finds herself noticing him more—more than she should.

The sound of his laughter is the first thing she picks up on. It cuts through the walls, bright and careless, a sharp contrast to the soft classical music that fills her studio. It’s the kind of laughter that belongs to someone untouched by rules or expectations, someone who doesn’t have to worry about pointed toes or perfect posture. It lingers in her head longer than she cares to admit.

Then there’s the way his shadow drifts through the hallway, a flash of movement that catches her eye when their classes overlap. Sometimes, when she’s stretching at the barre, she glimpses him through the glass door—shoulders loose, steps quick, head tilted back as he laughs with his friends. She tells herself she isn’t watching, isn’t waiting to catch that glimpse.

But she is.

And when the doors of his studio are left open, when she sees him dancing—really dancing—it’s impossible to look away. His movements are wild, sharp, untamed. He moves like the music lives inside him, like every beat tells his body where to go. There’s a recklessness in him, a freedom she doesn’t understand but can’t stop thinking about.

Because Y/N knows what it means to be controlled, to master every movement, every breath. She knows the pain of long hours spent perfecting form, of pushing her body to its breaking point. She knows discipline, precision, sacrifice.

And Pietro? Pietro moves like he doesn’t know the meaning of any of those things. Like he’s never been afraid of failure or falling. He dances like nothing can touch him. Like the world isn’t pressing down on his shoulders, demanding flawlessness. He’s fast and powerful and chaotic, but beneath all that wildness, she sees it—control. Focus. Strength. Hidden, but undeniable.

It frustrates her, how effortless it looks. How he can be all instinct and still own the room. She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t notice.

But she does.

⸻

The slow burn intensifies when the studios host a joint open house—an event to promote community, to show that different styles can exist side by side. Y/N doesn’t want to go. She tells Natasha it’s unnecessary, that ballet and hip hop have nothing to do with each other. That she doesn’t need to waste her time watching a bunch of guys showing off.

Natasha only rolls her eyes. “You’re coming. And don’t pretend it’s not because you’re curious.”

Y/N doesn’t answer, but they both know the truth.

⸻

The energy in the room is completely different from what Y/N is used to. It’s louder, messier, alive. People are laughing, moving, leaning against walls with easy confidence. Nothing about it is graceful. Nothing about it is restrained. It makes her feel like an outsider in her own studio.

And then Pietro takes the floor.

The moment the music kicks in, the world seems to tilt. Y/N tries not to care. She stands off to the side, arms crossed, her expression cool and composed. Watching, but pretending not to.

Pietro is reckless, but there’s nothing careless about him. His body moves with purpose, his steps sharp and fast. He’s quick on his feet, precise in a way that isn’t polished but feels powerful. Like every part of him is made for this, designed to catch the beat and twist it into something bigger. His muscles ripple beneath his skin, every motion fluid, sharp, dangerous.

He doesn’t need grace. He owns the chaos.

Y/N tells herself she’s unimpressed, that it’s not her style, not her world. But her heart is pounding, beating faster in time with the music. And when Pietro glances her way—just for a moment, catching her stare—she feels it like a jolt in her spine.

The corner of his mouth lifts, slow and knowing. A smirk that says he caught her watching.

And she hates that her first reaction isn’t to look away.

The music cuts off, leaving the room buzzing with leftover energy. Pietro steps back, letting the applause wash over him, but his gaze doesn’t move. He keeps his eyes on her, steady, sharp, unreadable.

For the first time, Y/N wonders what it would be like to let go. To forget about discipline and precision. To stop holding herself together so tightly. To dance like him. With him. And that thought—that want—lingers longer than it should.

Y/N forces herself to look away first. She focuses on the floor, on the worn edges of her ballet slippers, on anything but Pietro’s lingering gaze and that damn smirk that feels like it’s burned into her skin.

It’s fine. It’s nothing. Just a look. Just a moment.

But she still feels it. The pull. The spark.

And she hates it.

⸻

Later, when the event ends and the crowd begins to drift, Y/N lingers. She tells Natasha it’s because she wants to help clean up, but Natasha sees through it. She always does.

“Sure,” Natasha says, smiling like she knows something Y/N doesn’t want to admit. “You want to help clean. Not at all waiting to see if a certain someone comes over.”

Y/N scowls but says nothing, arms crossed tight over her chest. She’s not waiting. Not really. But when Pietro breaks off from his group and starts walking in her direction, her heart betrays her with a sharp, eager beat.

He’s still damp with sweat, hair tousled, grin lazy as he approaches. Confidence in every step. He doesn’t have to try. He never does.

“Enjoy the show, princessa?” he asks, stopping just a little too close.

She lifts her chin, sharp and composed, because she refuses to let him rattle her. “It was…interesting.”

His grin widens like he can hear the lie in her voice. “Interesting, huh? That’s one word for it.” His gaze drifts down, slow, like he’s studying her, reading her. “You watch like a dancer. Not just with your eyes, but here.” He taps two fingers to his chest. “You feel it. Even when you don’t want to.”

Y/N’s throat tightens, but she keeps her voice steady. “I know discipline. I know control. That’s what dance is about.”

Pietro chuckles, low and easy. “Nah. That’s what your dance is about.” His head tilts, eyes glinting with something sharper. “Mine’s about letting go. About feeling the music, not thinking about it.”

She meets his gaze, holding it. “Maybe some of us don’t have the luxury of letting go.”

For a moment, his smirk falters—just slightly, just enough to make her wonder. But then it’s back, bright and cocky.

“Maybe some of you are scared to try.”

It feels like a challenge. Like an open door. One she’s not sure she wants to walk through, but the temptation is there, coiled tight in her stomach.

Before she can think of a reply, Natasha calls her name from across the room. Y/N glances back, torn, then looks at Pietro one last time.

“Maybe I just know what I’m good at,” she says, stepping back.

Pietro watches her, the corner of his mouth tilting in that infuriating smirk. “And maybe you don’t know yet.”

⸻

That night, Y/N can’t sleep.

She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the way Pietro moved. The way his body caught the beat and made it his. How he was untouchable, unstoppable. Free.

And then she thinks about his words. About the dare in his voice. The way it made her feel—like she was missing something. Like he could see through her, past the surface, to the part of her that wanted to lose control.

She tells herself it doesn’t matter. That it’s just Pietro. Just some cocky guy who thinks he can get under her skin.

But the truth is, he already has.

⸻

The next week, Y/N stays late again. She tells Natasha it’s for extra practice, but in reality, it’s because she hears the bass pounding through the walls, pulling at her.

She waits, sitting near the mirror, listening.

And when the music cuts out, when she hears footsteps passing by the door, her heart hammers in her chest. She tells herself it doesn’t mean anything. That she doesn’t care if he walks past, if he doesn’t even notice she’s here.

But the door cracks open.

Pietro leans against the frame, arms crossed, that smirk playing at his lips. “Burning the midnight oil, princessa?”

Y/N forces herself to stay composed, though her pulse is screaming otherwise. “Practice makes perfect.”

Pietro steps inside, slow and easy. “Perfect’s boring.”

She lifts her chin. “Maybe to you.”

He stops a few steps away, eyes dragging over her, thoughtful. “You ever wonder what it feels like? To let go. To stop worrying about perfect and just move?”

“I don’t need to wonder.” Her voice is sharp, cool. “I’m a dancer. I know what it means to move.”

Pietro’s grin doesn’t fade. If anything, it sharpens. “But do you know how it feels to lose control?”

The words hang between them, heavy and dangerous. And Y/N realizes, in that moment, that it isn’t just about dance anymore.

Y/N tries to follow the rhythm, but it feels foreign—too loose, too wild. She’s too used to structure, to steps that make sense, to movements mapped out like a blueprint. Here, with the bass humming low and heavy, she feels like a stranger in her own body.

Pietro watches her, head tilted, eyes sharp but patient. He doesn’t say a word. Just steps forward, slow and smooth, like a wolf stalking its prey.

Then, without warning, he moves past her to the speaker. The music cuts off for a brief second before a new song fills the space—deeper, slower, something dark and sensual that slides along her skin like smoke.

Y/N swallows hard. “That’s not fair.”

Pietro’s grin is sharp. “Life isn’t fair, princessa.”

Before she can argue, he’s behind her. Close. Too close. She feels the warmth of his body, the brush of his breath along her neck. Her muscles lock tight, instinct telling her to step away, to guard herself.

But his hands—calloused and sure—find her hips, gentle but firm. Guiding.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low, coaxing. “Stop thinking. Feel it.”

She wants to tell him no. She wants to resist, wants to pull away and remind him that she isn’t this. That she’s control and discipline and perfect lines.

But then his fingers press just slightly, coaxing her hips into motion, and her breath catches. She feels it—how easily her body can sway, can curve, can melt into something softer, something freer.

The way his breath ghosts along her skin sends a shiver down her spine, and she hates how it weakens her. Hates how her body responds, how her pulse stutters.

“You’re too stiff,” he whispers, his lips grazing her ear. “Let go.”

Her eyes flutter shut. Just for a second. Just enough to feel the music, the warmth of his hands, the way his fingers guide her hips in slow, fluid movements.

And when she shivers again, he chuckles softly, the sound brushing against her neck like a secret.

“Better,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

It’s too much. Too close. She spins, breaking free from his touch—but Pietro is faster. His hands catch her waist, pulling her into him. She stumbles, her breath sharp, and his arm slides around her back, dropping her into a dip so sudden it steals the air from her lungs.

Y/N gasps, her hands finding his shoulders, clutching tight.

And there they are—paused, suspended. His face inches from hers, eyes burning, lips just a breath away.

The air between them feels electric.

Heavy.

His hand is warm on her back, holding her steady, fingers splayed across her spine like he’s claiming her. Her heart races, thudding against her ribs, and she knows he feels it. Knows he hears it in the silence.

Pietro’s gaze flicks to her lips, and her breath falters.

“This is how you let go,” he says, voice a low hum. “You feel.”

For a second, neither of them moves. The moment stretches, thick and dangerous. Temptation curls low in her stomach.

She should pull away. She should fight. But she doesn’t. Because the truth is… she doesn’t want to.

Y/N’s fingers tighten on his shoulders, but she doesn’t push him away. She can’t. The way he holds her, the way his body feels pressed against hers, steady and sure, it’s like gravity itself has shifted—like she’s no longer in control of the moment, or herself.

And maybe that’s why she stays.

Pietro’s breath is warm, his gaze burning into her like a challenge. Like he’s daring her to give in. To admit what she’s feeling.

But she can’t.

Won’t.

Instead, she draws in a slow, shaky breath and lifts her chin just slightly, enough to reclaim a sliver of control. “This doesn’t prove anything.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rough, vibrating through her where his hand rests against her back. “Doesn’t it?”

And then—like he knows exactly what he’s doing—he pulls her in just a little closer. Their lips don’t touch, but they might as well. The heat is there, the tension crackling in the narrow space between them.

Y/N’s heart pounds, but her pride holds steady. “You think one dance is going to change me?”

Pietro’s smirk is slow, dangerous. “Not one dance.” His fingers flex against her spine, teasing. “But one moment? Maybe.”

She hates that part of her wonders if he’s right.

Hates that her body feels looser now, more fluid. That for a second, she did feel free.

But she’s not ready to give him that victory.

With a sharp breath, she pushes up from the dip, stepping back. Pietro lets her go without a fight, though his hand lingers just a moment longer than necessary—tracing the curve of her waist, like he’s reluctant to release her.

Their eyes lock.

Neither of them speaks.

And then Y/N forces her body to turn, retreating to the door without another word. Without looking back.

But her heart is still pounding. Her skin still remembers the heat of his touch.

And as she steps into the hallway, she swears she can still hear his voice, low and taunting, following her.

“Careful, princessa. The more you fight it, the harder you’ll fall.”

⸻

The days after feel heavier. Like the weight of that moment follows her, curling around her ankles, pulling her thoughts off balance.

She dances harder, sharper, pushing herself until her muscles scream. Until the ache burns away the memory of his hands on her.

But it’s never enough.

Because Pietro is always there.

Sometimes just a shadow in the hallway, the beat of his music slipping through the walls. Sometimes a flash of him dancing, wild and free, his movements all instinct and heat.

And sometimes—worse—he’s there in her mind, the echo of his breath against her skin, the low rasp of his voice telling her to feel.

And it lingers.

⸻

One night, she stays late, chasing perfection. The studio is empty, the air still. Her toes ache, her body tired. She’s been at it for hours, but it isn’t enough.

It’s never enough.

And when she collapses onto the floor, head bowed, frustration burns behind her eyes. She feels trapped in her own skin, her own technique, suffocating under the weight of control.

“Too tight,” a voice says from the doorway, soft but certain.

She doesn’t have to look to know it’s him.

Y/N lifts her head, jaw tight. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

Pietro steps into the room, his presence filling the space like smoke. “And miss watching you lose your mind?” His grin is easy, but his gaze is sharp, focused. “Not a chance.”

She glares, though it lacks heat. “I’m fine.”

“No, princessa,” he says, stepping closer, slow and deliberate. “You’re stuck.”

And God, isn’t that the truth?

He stops a few feet away, crouching low until they’re eye level. His gaze softens just slightly. “You know what your problem is?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to.

“You’re scared to let go.” His voice is low, coaxing. “Scared you’ll fall. That you’ll lose control and not know how to find it again.”

Y/N swallows, but the words won’t come.

Pietro’s hand lifts, slow and careful, not quite touching—just hovering near her cheek, close enough to feel the warmth. “But that’s the only way you’ll ever really dance.”

The only way she’ll ever be free.

The words burn in her chest. She wants to deny them. Wants to tell him he’s wrong.

But she doesn’t. Because maybe… he’s not.

The silence stretches, heavy and tense, the weight of his words settling over her. Y/N wants to deny it, to tell him he doesn’t understand. That he could never understand.

Because ballet is discipline. Ballet is control. Ballet is knowing every movement, every step, and perfecting it until there’s nothing left but beauty.

But Pietro’s right.

Lately, it hasn’t felt beautiful. It’s felt suffocating.

Her throat tightens, but she lifts her chin, masking the vulnerability with steel. “I choose control,” she says quietly. “It’s better than falling apart.”

Pietro’s gaze doesn’t waver. “And if falling apart is what makes you feel alive?”

The words strike something inside her, something raw and dangerous. Something she doesn’t want to face.

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

And then his fingers brush her cheek—light, tentative, like a whisper. His thumb grazes the corner of her jaw, tracing the line of tension there. It’s not a flirtatious touch, not this time. It’s something deeper. Something real.

“You don’t have to be perfect, princessa,” he says softly. “Not with me.”

The words shake her more than they should. Because it isn’t just about the dance anymore. It’s about control. About the walls she’s built so high and so tight, even she can barely breathe inside them.

And Pietro… he’s reckless and untamed, but free.

And maybe, a part of her envies that.

Before she can answer, Pietro stands, offering his hand. “Dance with me.”

It’s not a question. Not a challenge. It’s an invitation.

Y/N hesitates, staring at his hand like it’s a trap. Because she knows if she takes it, something will change. Something inside her will break, and she doesn’t know if she can put it back together.

But then she thinks of the ache in her chest, the weight of perfection pressing down on her, and wonders if breaking might be exactly what she needs.

Slowly, she reaches up. Her fingers brush his.

Warmth. Strength.

He pulls her to her feet, his hands steady on her waist.

The music isn’t loud. Just the low hum of a bass from the other studio, seeping through the walls. But Pietro doesn’t wait. He starts moving, his steps loose, fluid, coaxing her into motion.

And Y/N—she wants to resist. She wants to hold onto control.

But when his hand guides her hips, when he whispers, “Feel, princessa,” something inside her fractures.

Her body moves—not with the sharp precision of ballet, but with something messier. Something raw.

Her movements are hesitant at first, but Pietro is patient, his hands warm, his presence steady. When she falters, he’s there. When she tries to pull back, his fingers catch hers, guiding her through.

And when she lets herself fall into the rhythm, something inside her loosens.

She lets him lead.

Lets her body sway.

And for the first time in a long time… she feels free.

⸻

Their dance slows, but Pietro doesn’t let her go. His hand stays on her hip, his fingers light but sure. Their bodies close, breaths mingling.

“You’re better when you’re not thinking,” he murmurs, and the teasing is gone now. It’s something softer, something that burns low and deep.

Y/N’s breath hitches. Her hands are still on his shoulders, fingers curled tight. She doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t trust her voice.

But she doesn’t step back. And Pietro doesn’t move away.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he asks, his voice a low hum, brushing over her skin.

And she does. Not just the music. Not just the heat of his body, the steady strength of his hands. But the pull between them. The spark. The danger. And when she meets his gaze, she knows he feels it too.

She should leave. She should say something sharp and cold, reclaim control. But instead, she whispers, “Yes.” And that one word feels like a surrender.

She, feeling the music and the moment, began to dance, her ballet training evident in the fluidity of her movements. Pietro was captivated, his eyes locked on hers as he spit his rhymes, his body swaying to the beat.

The music took over, and they found themselves lost in the moment, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Pietro's hands brushed against hers, sending shivers down her spine, and she knew she was in trouble. The air was charged with tension, and she could feel the attraction between them growing stronger with every passing moment.

As the music reached its climax, Pietro grabbed her hand, pulling her close, his lips inches from hers. She felt his hot breath on her skin, and her heart skipped a beat. The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the rhythm and the passion.

Pietro started talking dirty to her in his native language, his words low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. She didn't know what he was saying, but the way he said it made her feel like she was his, like she belonged to him. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, his breath hot against her skin, and she felt her body respond to his touch.

"You're so beautiful, so sexy," Pietro whispered in her ear, his voice low and husky. "I want to fuck you all night, to make you mine." He started to speak in his native language again, his words dirty and sensual, and she felt her body respond to the sound of his voice.

Pietro's hands roamed her body, touching every curve and contour, sending shivers down her spine. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, and her chest, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She felt his fingers on her skin, tracing patterns and shapes, driving her wild with desire.

"I want to lick you all over, to taste every inch of your skin," Pietro whispered, his voice low and husky. "I want to make you cum, to make you scream my name." He started to speak in his native language again, his words dirty and sensual, and she felt her body respond to the sound of his voice.

Pietro pulled off her leotard, revealing her lacy bra and panties, and she felt a rush of excitement. He kissed her breasts, his lips tracing the curves of her skin, and she arched her back, feeling the sensation build inside her.

"You're so wet, so ready for me," Pietro whispered, his voice low and husky. "I can smell your arousal, and it's driving me crazy." He started to speak in his native language again, his words dirty and sensual, and she felt her body respond to the sound of his voice.

She reached down, unzipping Pietro's pants, and he groaned, his eyes flashing with desire. She wrapped her hand around his cock, feeling the heat and the hardness, and she knew she was ready to take him inside her. Pietro's eyes locked on hers, burning with intensity, and he whispered a single word in her ear - "Mine"

And with that, he lifted her up, carrying her to the nearby bench, and laid her down, his body covering hers. He kissed her, his lips claiming hers, as he positioned himself between her legs. She felt his cock pressing against her core, and she knew she was ready to surrender to the passion that had been building between them. She moaned his name, whimpering.

Pietro thrust inside her, his cock filling her completely, and she felt a rush of pleasure. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the sensation build inside her. He moved slowly, his hips grinding against hers, and she felt the friction building, driving her wild with desire.

As the pleasure built inside her, Pietro's movements became faster, his hips pounding against hers, and she felt the sensation reach a crescendo. She came, her body shuddering with pleasure, and Pietro followed, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his seed.

She lay there, wrapped in Pietro's arms, the music still pulsing through her veins, and she knew that she had found something special. The passion between them was raw and intense, and she knew that she would never be able to let it go. Pietro's eyes locked on hers, burning with intensity, and she knew that she was his, and he was hers, forever.

The room is quiet, save for the slow, steady rhythm of their breathing. The air is thick, warm, carrying the scent of sweat and skin, of something reckless and unspoken.

Y/N lies on her back, her body still humming with the aftermath of what just happened. Pietro is beside her, propped on an elbow, his fingers lazily tracing the curve of her hip, drawing invisible patterns on her skin.

She should say something. Anything. But her thoughts are a mess—tangled and heavy, like her limbs.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not with him.

Not like this.

But it did.

And the worst part? She doesn’t feel regret. She feels… alive. Breathless. Scared.

But not regretful.

Pietro watches her closely, his expression unreadable. There’s no teasing smirk now, no sharp words to hide behind. Just silence.

It makes her skin itch.

She shifts beneath the sheets, tugging them higher over her chest like the barrier will give her back the control she lost hours ago. “That shouldn’t have happened,” she says, though her voice is quieter than she wants.

Pietro’s fingers still, his gaze flicking to hers. “No?”

And there’s that challenge again. That same sharp edge she’s come to expect from him.

Y/N swallows hard. “No.” She says it firmer this time, though her body betrays her—still aching, still remembering. “It was a mistake.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t argue.

He just hums, low and knowing. “Funny. Didn’t feel like one.”

Her stomach twists. She hates the way he says it—like it was inevitable. Like it meant something.

“It didn’t mean anything,” she says quickly. Too quickly.

And Pietro smiles, slow and dangerous, but there’s no real humor in it. “Then why are you still here?”

The question hits harder than it should.

Because she could leave. She should leave.

But she hasn’t moved.

Not yet.

And that terrifies her.

Y/N forces herself upright, clutching the sheet to her chest like armor. “This doesn’t change anything,” she says, though she’s not sure who she’s trying to convince—him or herself.

Pietro’s gaze drops, just for a second, to the curve of her bare shoulder, the sheet clutched so tightly in her hands. And when his eyes lift again, they’re darker. “Doesn’t it?”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Because maybe it does change something.

Maybe it already has.

Y/N swings her legs off the bed, standing on shaky feet. She pulls her clothes back on with trembling hands, avoiding his gaze. She doesn’t trust herself to look. Doesn’t trust herself not to fall back into the heat of his arms.

Not again.

When she’s dressed, she stops at the door, her back to him. “This was a mistake,” she says one last time, her voice soft but firm.

And then she leaves, stepping into the cool hallway, closing the door behind her with a finality that feels like it should hurt more than it does.

⸻

But it does hurt.

The moment she’s alone, her hands clench at her sides, her chest tight. Her body still burns, still remembers.

And worse?

She’s not sure if she’s walking away because it’s the right thing to do… Or because she’s scared of just how much she wants to stay.

For the next few days, Y/N throws herself into her ballet practice, hoping that the rhythm of her routines, the familiar structure, will help her forget what happened. But every time she steps into the studio, the memory of Pietro’s touch lingers at the back of her mind, like an unshakable shadow.

She avoids him at all costs. When she hears the thumping bass from next door, her stomach tightens, and her chest grows heavy. But she forces herself to stay focused, blocking out the noise, the heat of his hands, the memory of how effortlessly he had moved her.

She sees him in the hallway a few times, but she quickly turns her back, pretending not to notice the way his eyes follow her every move. His smirk, that damn smirk, is always there, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking, exactly how she’s feeling.

And it drives her crazy.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling class, Y/N finds herself lingering at the edge of the hallway, just outside the door to the hip-hop studio. She tries to tell herself it’s just to stretch her legs, just to get some air—but she knows the truth.

She’s waiting for him.

A moment later, the door to the hip-hop studio opens, and Pietro steps out, sweat glistening on his skin, his hair wild and messy, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion. His eyes immediately lock onto hers, and she feels a heat rush through her, a flush of something dangerous and raw.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, his voice low and teasing, but there’s an edge to it. He steps closer, closing the space between them, until he’s only inches away.

Y/N swallows hard, her throat dry. She wants to step back, wants to run, but something inside her rebels against that. Her heart beats faster, louder, in her chest, like it’s desperate for her to feel something again.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” she says, but it comes out weak. She tries to sound indifferent, but it’s a lie. “I’ve just been… busy.”

He leans in, just slightly, and she feels his breath on her neck, warm and teasing. “Is that what you’re calling it?” His voice is a whisper now, almost too soft, like he knows how much it affects her. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you look the other way every time I try to talk to you.”

Y/N forces herself to take a breath, to gather her composure. But it’s hard when he’s standing this close, when his presence fills the space between them like an electric current.

“Maybe I’m just not interested in whatever you’re offering,” she says, but even as the words leave her lips, she knows they’re empty.

Because the truth is, she’s burning for him. She wants to kiss him. She wants to feel the heat of his body against hers again. She wants to let go of the tight grip she has on everything and just… be with him.

Pietro must sense it, because his smirk deepens, and without warning, he reaches out, his hand catching her wrist. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he murmurs, his voice soft and knowing.

Before she can pull away, his lips are on hers. It’s sudden, but it’s not rough or urgent. It’s almost… gentle. His mouth moves against hers, coaxing, teasing, like he’s trying to remind her of something she’s tried so hard to forget.

And Y/N can’t resist. She doesn’t want to resist. The moment their lips touch, all of her resolve crumbles. Her hand reaches up, gripping his shirt as she pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. She feels him smile against her mouth, the warmth of his lips, the heat of his body.

The kiss is nothing like the disciplined, controlled movements she’s used to in ballet. It’s wild and free, just like him. Every touch is an invitation to let go, to lose herself in him.

When they finally pull apart, both of them breathless, Y/N stands there, dazed. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say. She can’t find the words, because she knows that giving in to him means losing control. And she’s terrified of what that will do to her.

But Pietro doesn’t wait for her to speak. Instead, he brushes his thumb over her lips, his gaze intense. “You feel it too,” he murmurs, voice low, almost like a promise.

She wants to lie. She wants to say no, to tell him that it’s just the heat of the moment, just a mistake. But when she meets his eyes, she knows that she’s already beyond that.

“I don’t want to stop,” she whispers, barely audible, but it’s the truth.

Pietro’s grin returns, mischievous and confident. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you.”

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N doesn’t want to fight it.

72 notes · View notes

stuckyrogersbarnes · 1 year ago

Text

'Fuck me then.' (Pietro smut)

Warnings - Creampie, oral, praise kink.

Word count - 1.3K

Female reader

You and Wanda had been bestfriends since your traumatic days trapped at HYDRA. And even though it was long gone, you still met eachother at least every 2 weeks. She was quite busy after joining the Avengers, you couldn't be prouder. And although she tried to convince you to join, you didn't want to get back into that. So, you got a normal job as a barista at a local coffee shop. It wasn't the best, but it was fine for the moment.

However, Wanda's brother, Pietro Maximoff, never failed to get on your nerves (and vice versa). Sure, he was attractive, but he was a huge asshole, unlike his sweet sister. You, unfortunately, had been blessed with x-ray vision so you got to see Pietro's "progress," all throughout his teenage years, without being able to do anything about it. Meh, he was average. But, luckily, now you know how to control it.

"Hi, what can I get-" you gasp as you look up. Pietro, the man you hadn't seen in years, was standing right in front of you. "Good to see you too, kochanie. Long time." The word 'kochanie,' never failed to piss me off. It meant 'darling,' or something in Polish, around where he was from. "Pietro, never thought I would see you again." "Life's full of surprises, Kochanie. I'll have a regular cold coffee." You put on a sarcastic smile. "Coming right up." He walks off. You hand the drink to a waiter to give to him so that you won't have to see his insufferable face ever again. And although you hated him, you couldn't help but think that he had become super-duper good-looking, atleast compared to what he used to look like.

Tony and you were quite close too, so of course, you were invited to his huge New Year's Eve party. You put on your slutty red dress with a pair of golden earrings. After seeing Pietro today, your ovaries had kind of been in a twist, if you know what I mean. You walk your way down the large stairway and feel the stares of hungry men on you. You look around, only to find a certain someone looking directly at you. The same man who you saw today in the coffee shop, he looked taller, more defined, and with a beard than when you knew him. You had a thing for beards, you loved the sting. Your breath hitches. Pietro. "Kochanie, how pleasant to see you here." He greets you. "Mhmm, good to see you too." You try to sound confident but little does he know, you're dying to use those powers of yours right now. You shake it off and begin to walk away.

Instead of walking away and never seeing him again, you trip and he instantly grabs you by the stomach. "Fuck." you whisper. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck as he leans closer, "Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes." he whispers in your ear. He then leaves you, alone, with goosebumps surrounded on your skin. What just happened?

Even though you tried your best not to let your curiosity take over you, you find yourself outside the fancy bathroom. Should I go in? "Ugh." you groan. "Ah. I see you came." "What do you want Pietro?" You didn't turn back to see him, but you could hear his steps as he walked closer to you. "I'll get straight to the point, kochanie. After seeing you today, I needed to see you again. Now that I see you in that dress, looking so goddamn beautiful Y/n, I need to fuck you. Hard." You gasp and your pussy clenches. You slowly turn back, the background music slowly fading out. You thought for a second before saying, "fuck me then." He instantly grabs your neck and connects his soft lips to yours. He pushes you into the bathroom and locks the door. "You sure about this, darling?" "Yes." "good girl," he smirks and hitches you up onto the counter. He immediately bends down to his knees, spreads your legs wide open, and moans at the sight of your bare, wet pussy. No panties, no nothing. "Oh, I have been waiting for this for so fucking long." Before you get to even process what he says his tongue enters your wet hole, you moan and he begins to thrust. He then adds one finger to your pussy and latches his lips to your clit and sucks on it, hard. You grind on his face. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You never thought Pietro would be so good at eating you out. You pull on his hair and grind on his face as he inhales your juices. "Fuck, you smell amazing." That statement alone was enough to send you on edge. But as soon as he says it, he adds two more fingers, completely stretching you out. "PIETRO!" you scream, unable to hold it back. Your pussy pulsates and you squirt, all over his face, leaving his hair and face wet. "You taste amazing, kachanie." Your blush in embarrassment. Did I just do that? "I-i'm sorry that never happened before-" Before you finish he cuts off with a kiss, making your pussy even wetter. You can taste your sweet juices in his mouth and lips. "Don't be embarrassed, Kochanie. That was so fucking hot." he then takes two of his fingers and enters your pussy abruptly. He kisses down your neck, immediately finding your soft spot. You moan.

"Fuck me Pietro." as soon as you say that he unlatches his belt with one hand and takes his jeans off. You can see his hard-on through his boxers. You moan at the nibling sensation on your neck. The surprise and shock of this happening sent you more on edge as your pussy clenches on his fingers and he pulled out, panting, making all your juices spill on his boxers, leaving them see-through. You could see his pink tip and his veins pulsating. He slowly takes off his boxers, his dick jumps out, almost reaching his belly button. You gasp. You do not remember it being so long. And you certainly don't remember it having a slight curve, which it does now. Wow, he has become a man. He takes off the straps of your dress, only to see your tiny, hard nipples. Your breath hitches as he latches his lips onto one of them and plays with the other one with his fingers. You moan, "Pietro. Inside. please," unable to form proper sentences. "Tsk. No patience. Though, I'm complaining." He unlatches his lips from your throbbing nipple. He lifts you up, you yelp. He bends you over on the cold marble counter, making you shiver from the cold sensation. His cock enters you, reaching a spot that had never been reached by anyone, including you, ever before. Before he even started thrusting, your vision blurs and you come. Wow. He groans and begins to thrust. "Fuck y/n, you're so tight." You moan. He bangs into you, again and again and again. You scream. He keeps hitting your G-spot over and over again. "I need you, Pietro." "Need me to do what, my darling?" "I need you to go faster, harder." He speeds up, banging harder. "Fuuuckkkkk." you moan. "Ugh," he moans, "I'm going to come Y/n." "Me too." You clench on his dick, seeing stars for the fourth time in the last half an hour. You can feel his come ooze out of him in your pussy as he pulls out. You squirt all over his still-hard cock.

"One more round?" He asks. "Yes please."

#the avengers #smut #female reader #pietro maximoff #one shot #pietro x reader #marvel #pietro marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #pietro smut

720 notes · View notes

mementos-of-me · 2 years ago

Text

Evermore

Chapter 1. Dream a little dream of me

Masterlist

Chapter 2

I’m back my loves!

This is a new series that I have been working on for quite a while and I really hope you all enjoy it <3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

just to preface: The first three chapters are backstory for the OFC and her path to meeting the Avengers and Pietro comes into things in chapter 4. I will note this again at the beginning of chapter 3, it is an optional chapter which furthers her backstory but if you are too excited for Pietro then just reading chapter’s 1 + 2 and skipping to 4 would still be okay <3

Trust me Pietro is worth the wait!

summary: Nadia was raised in the Red Room, raised to be a weapon; a killer. From five years old this is all she knew, until a near-death experience and a chance meeting turned her world upside down.

series warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood and injuries, PTSD, angst, trauma, mutual pining, slowish burn, eventual smut, mentions of medical procedures, guns and torture.

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood and injuries

Russia, 2006.

Whether it was February or sometime in June I was no longer sure.

The air was glacial around me, and I was sure I was dying.

There was a dampness that enveloped me, something in the stale air that agitated my senses. I laid back against the rough gravel, sweat streaming down my neck even with the snow that dappled my cheeks. It must be February still, this much snow could only mean winter. I rasped a breath out. My eyes were heavily lidded, suit becoming damp with the blood that spilled from my side. I saw a familiar face then, her name was Annika, or at least I thought it was. Dark hair slicked back as she prowled around searching for me. When our eyes met, I hoped death would come with haste, surely it would be merciful. This instead of returning to his grasp. She came to kneel beside me, gravel crunching under her weight. She said my name, but it was distant, her hand came to grip mine. Perhaps there was something in my gaze, something she recognized. That is the only conclusion I could come to as she let her hand drift from mine offering a single nod, but not the slightest of expressions as she spoke.

“Отдыхай сейчас, сестра.”

Rest now, sister.

I would never forget her mercy. My eyes drifted shut as everything became distant, the dreary cold, the aching muscles, the blood that drained from me. Then, there was nothing. Finally.

The smooth, delicate flesh which had seen no hard labor smoothed my hair down, twirling a golden curl between slender fingers. A quiet hum filled my ears, followed by smooth words

Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you’. Birds singing in the sycamore tree.

“Dream a little dream of me.” I murmured; the low hum of an engine filled my ears as I jolted awake. I was confused by the strange vision I had seen whilst unconscious, an American woman who had found her way into my mind’s eye many times before. When I’d told Natasha about her years ago, she’d said perhaps the woman was my guardian angel. The thought made my heart clench, I wondered where Natasha was, if she was still breathing or if she was merely another piece of the past now.

When my consciousness returned fully, I managed to prop myself up enough to take in my surroundings, I immediately regretted it. Surrounding me, atop my legs, by my head were bodies. I suspected we were being taken to a site for disposal, that had been my path, a nameless corpse among the others taken to be dumped in a wide grave. However, by some wicked twist of fate some stubborn part of me seemed unwilling to die. I had planned my escape before, many times over the past 10 years. Yet, now when it was practically in my palms, it was hollow and did not feel as if it were mine. I tore a small shred of fabric from the shirt of once of the corpses, apologizing to the lifeless eyes that watched me as I used it as a makeshift bandage over the wound at the side of my stomach. It hurt, yet I’d sustained far worse. I reminded myself of this as I took the knife from my boot and cut into my wrist, blood trickling down my forearm as I slipped the tip of the blade beneath the skin to locate the chip that would tell him exactly where I was. An ache set into the base of my skull as a ringing noise filled my ears, I persevered, nonetheless. Finally, metal hit metal and I slipped the tracker from my skin. I put the microchip into the pocket of one of the corpses. Even if it was followed it would only lead to a hole filled with dead. I pressed my bleeding wrist to my chest as I dragged myself to the edge of the trailer, tucking my head and rolling. The gravel scraped my flesh, digging into me and engraving new cuts into my body. I gasped for air as I landed on my hurt side, shutting my eyes tightly to block out the still present ringing. Whether there was a part of me that truly wished to live or it was merely stubborn fury that pushed me to get up I was unsure.

The pain seared through me as I watched the car leave the driveway from behind some stray shrubbery. Forcing myself back to my feet I hobbled toward the now empty house. A brief search of the area surrounding the backdoor returned no sign of a spare key and I could feel the blood still oozing from the wound on my side as well as the steady stream on my wrist. I leaned against the wall, steadying myself momentarily as my head began to spin. With a swift movement I shattered the small glass panel of the door, reaching within to flick the lock. Given the distance of this particular house from the nearest neighbor, I was not concerned that someone may be alarmed by the sound, hence the appeal of this property. When inside I made quick work of securing the items I required; pants and a shirt, to allow me to remove my torn, bloodied suit, only keeping my boots and push dagger. I also grabbed some towels. When I’d found each item I moved back to the kitchen, searching for some kind of first aid kit, though there was no sign of one in the vicinity. After rifling through a few more cupboards, I gave up on the errand, not wanting to linger in case the homeowner returned. Makeshift antiseptic would have to suffice, I grabbed the bottle of vodka I’d clocked in a cabinet before carefully moving to sit on the tiled floor. I peeled the black suit from my body, cursing as it clung to my gash. When I was down to only my undergarments, I pressed one of the folded towels between my lips, gritting my teeth around it as I held the other towel just below my wound.

I was unable to swallow the groans of agony that ripped through me as I poured the vodka onto my flesh, blood-stained alcohol pooling onto the towel in my hand. The ringing noise returned, echoing through my ears as the pain intensified, fraying my nerves. When the overwhelming burning subsided slightly, I began to attach a piece of cloth over the marred flesh; it would have to suffice until I could find a needle and sutures. As fast as I was capable in my state, I slipped into the clean clothes disregarding the mess that I’d created in favor of getting out of this house as soon as possible. I only collected the items that were coated in my blood before filling a canteen that I’d found with water from the tap. Before leaving, I grabbed a coat and gloves from the rack next to the door.

The flakes of snow kissed my cheeks as I trudged through the streets, tightening the coat around my body, chin tucked into the soft inside layer. I wasn’t sure where I was going or what I planned to do when I got there but remaining on my feet seemed a solid starting point. I managed to find a pharmacy along my way, the faint green cross bringing some relief as I all but stumbled through the door. Old Russian opera hummed over the radio, surrounding me as I scanned the shelves. A young boy sat at the front of the store, completely engrossed in the faded, well-loved comic book he was reading; I wasn’t sure he’d even noticed me enter, regardless of the bell that had rung above my head the moment the door had opened. I glanced at him to ensure he was still ignoring me before shoving a stitching kit and some bandages into my pockets. This was all I needed, though my feet seemed cemented to the floor where I stood. I was unsure whether I was swaying or if it was just my imagination. The room suddenly seemed to be spinning around me. My breath felt ragged, and I could feel sweat on the back of my neck.

“Могу я вам помочь, мисс?”

Can I help you, miss?

The boys’ words barely met my ears. I closed my eyes tightly, releasing a shaky breath and attempting to steady myself against the shelf.

“Нет, спасибо.” No, thank you. I grabbed a pack of throat soothing candies from the shelf, holding it toward him. “У тебя не тот вкус, который мне нравится.” You don’t have the flavour I like. He nodded in response, watching me with what I believed was concern for my welfare glimmering in his gaze. I offered him a smile that was likely not very convincing before turning and making my way from the store. I found a block of public bathrooms to lock myself in as I peeled the layers from my body and began the laborious task of stitching my wound closed. My hands were nowhere near as steady as they normally were, and it was no small task to focus my eyes. I’d stitched up my wounds and the wounds of others countless times, yet now, when time was not on my side, nothing seemed to be going my way. The sting of the needle seemed nothing compared to the collective pains from the day.

I recalled stealing the loaf of bread, so fresh it burnt me beneath my coat where I had stowed it away as I stumbled toward the tracks. The sting of the piping hot dough against my chest was easy to focus on, something to anchor me to reality. I remember that and I remember falling unceremoniously into the empty carriage at the back of the cargo train, the door was so heavy against my frail consciousness I was barely able to pull it closed. Even after summoning the last shred of strength that lingered within my bones, a slither remained present in the door.

I hadn’t the faintest idea how many hours were passing, by what I believed was the third sunset I’d witnessed through the crack in the door I was too exhausted to eat the bread that remained half wrapped beside me. The cool metal of the canteen in my hand the only thing anchoring me to reality. The days had begun to pass by with the same routine, it would begin with a searing agony that would eventually become a dull ache, the violent shaking would follow soon after, though at times they arrived in unison. Sweat would bead on my flesh, making me clammy and overheated as the glacial breeze continued to infiltrate the stale air of the carriage.

When the train slowed to a stop just before the fourth sunset, I decided that if I didn’t pull myself from the carriage now, I’d almost certainly die here.

There were bricks beneath my feet comprising the path surrounded by trees, I studied my surroundings through blurry eyes. Berlin. I had been here recently, but the months still seemed to have passed me by. People were celebrating, they were dancing in the street in colorful costumes and singing jovial songs; I remember now, it was the beginning of Fasching, the beginning of Lent, it was February. The streets still bustled, though no one danced, German flowed around me.

I approached a man who sat reading a newspaper on a park bench, asking him, in perfect German, what day it was. He told me it was the 1st of March and then he asked if I was well. I nodded slowly and turned from him, offering nothing further in the way of conversation. Continuing down the street I attempted to make a plan, I had no contacts here, not ones that existed outside of the red rooms grasp. A woman pulled me from my thoughts, she was not speaking to me, she was on the phone, and she spoke English. I glanced toward her noting the wallet that she slipped into her coat pocket, a small map in one hand. She was British. I diverted my path subtly, adjusting my gloves to ensure that no blood stains were visible. For a moment I just listened, having to close my eyes to focus in this altered state, in my head I mimicked her voice, repeating the sentence she’d just spoken over and over.

“Yes, I’ve just arrived in Berlin, it’s absolutely freezing here.”

Again and again, I said it as I approached her, she was ending her phone call when I finally stood before her. She gave me a friendly smile when our eyes met. “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, I just heard you speaking English, and well, I don’t speak a word of German, I was wondering if you could help me.” I spoke mimicking her accent.

“Oh of course, it is a tricky language! I’m Anna, what’s your name?”

I had found German to be relatively easy to learn, but I disregarded this. “It certainly is, I’m Natalie, I was hoping you could give me some directions to the nearest pharmacy?” She agreed happily, unfolding her map and beginning to show me what roads to follow to find my destination. I hummed along as she rambled, ignoring her words as I swiftly slipped my hand into her pocket, snatching her wallet and slipping it into my own coat before she’d finished talking. “Thank you so much, really, you’re a saint.” I spoke, forcing a smile just as warm as hers to spread across my face. I turned and began to make my way down the street in the direction she’d told me.

“Oh, and Natalie.” I rolled my eyes at her voice, forcing a smile back onto my face as I turned back to face her.”

“Yes, Anna?”

She stepped toward me, her expression completely calm and collected as she adjusted her jacket. “Might I have my wallet back?”

The smile never fell from my face as I regarded her, I was trained to face any circumstances that may arise on a mission, there was no room for error in the red room I had been forged into something of a perfectionist. “I’m not sure what you mean, your wallet?”

“Yes, love, my wallet which you just nicked.” I told her I hadn’t seen her wallet and I even acted mildly offended that she was assert such a thing. “I must admit you are quite an adept pickpocket, if it were just that perhaps I’d assume you were a mere street hustler and leave it at that after regaining my wallet. Though, I’ve been told I’m something of a connoisseur at separating your run of the mill con artist from someone like you.”

The accent I’d employed remained strong as I queried. “Someone like me?” Glancing at her with furrowed eyebrows as if to query her sanity. “Are you alright, Anna, what a thing to accuse someone of. I’ve not even seen your wallet.”

“See it’s that right there that gives you away, sweetheart.” I raised an eyebrow at her gleeful expression. “You don’t even falter when you lie, no shift in your demeanor, no evident tell of any kind. Really that is talent, kiddo. However, you did make one mistake.” I could feel sweat beading on my head and my surroundings were becoming more fuzzy than clear. Forcing myself to remain upright, I only prayed I wasn’t becoming paler before her eyes. I asked her once more what on earth she was speaking about. “You said that you spoke no German and yet you understood the map perfectly. The map which has not one word of English on it.”

Had I shown that I’d understood the map? I couldn’t remember, everything was becoming groggy and distant, I had never once been made before, but now, I could barely hear the words Anna spoke to me. Too weak to run, and too ill to continue deceiving her I simply threw her wallet onto the ground in front of her. “Fuck you.” I spoke letting the accent slip from my words, settling back to my regular speaking voice.

“You’re Russian? Are you working for the KGB? Did someone send you here?”

Suddenly I couldn’t feel my legs and my words became slurred. “Fuck off.” I attempted to leave but I stumbled, catching myself against a wall, the cold bricks pressing into gaunt cheeks.

“Are you alright?”

I pulled the push dagger from my pocket, aiming it toward Anna but evidently the threat was empty as I was no longer able to hold myself up, slumping down to the ground, limbs going limp at my side. My eyelids were inexplicably heavy then, each time I blinked I was plunged into the darkness longer. I could see the woman’s mouth moving as she approached me cautiously though none of her words stuck as the darkness came once more.

Thank you so much for reading - Pietro is worth the wait <3

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff x ofc #pietro maximoff smut #pietro smut #marvel #marvel avengers #avengers smut #avengers fanfiction #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson smut #atj smut #pietro maximoff x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader

171 notes · View notes

thewritersaddictions · 2 years ago

Text

(R) Drabbles: Pietro Maximoff- Tonight Your Mine

The knock on your hotel room door is not unusual considering tonight is the last night of your free life. Sounds dramatic but you’re getting married tomorrow morning and everyone has been stopping by to make sure you’re absolutely ready.

Your body is running high on anxiety and excitement. You don’t bother to look in the peephole of your door assuming it’s someone with important things for you. You swing open the door, you don’t even bother to look up at who’s there. You just walk in allowing that person to follow behind you.

The sound of the door clicking makes you turn around. You stand in shock at your ex, that ex you hadn’t seen in years. And now like no time has passed he’s right back in front of you staring at you as he did with those blue eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Your question comes out to wobble at the start. You’re getting married tomorrow, you can’t be dealing with this shit tonight. “Pietro I can’t be dealing with you and your shit tonight get out of my hotel room.” You try, pushing him out of the room.

Your wedding dress is hanging on the back of the door. In a plastic bag that makes a rather loud crinkling when Pietro’s back ends up hitting it. “Why, I’m just here to wish the bride to be a good day tomorrow.” He’s lustfully looking at my lips. “Thought you needed a good night before you ruin your life with that fucking idiot.”

You scoff, him… calling you… “You’re a fucking asshole you know that.” Somehow you’ve managed to get closer to each other, Pietro doesn’t mind that you’ve pushed him into the back of the door, or how close you are to touch him.

Your bathrobe is white and the word ‘bride’ is sewn into the fabric. “What… you need to leave!” You’re trying desperately to stay strong “I love my husband very much and don’t need you ruining more of my life Pietro!” It’s the end of the conversation as I try to grab onto the door handle.

With a quick motion, I’ve been rotated on my heels. Picked up and moved towards another more flat wall. “You were saying?” He questions you. You roll your eyes at his words. But something changes quickly as always with Pietro. You wear nothing under the soft white robe. His breath is close, fanning across your skin. Causing goosebumps to come across my skin.

He’s kissing my neck before I can protest. His groin is pressed hard into my uncovered pussy. I can’t help but let my head fall backward, giving him more access to the skin he’s already kissing, lapping his tongue over the sweetest point of my neck. I moan and bucks harder into me.

He drops me rather quickly. My heart is racing faster than I can remember. “Pietro?!” A yearning question is biting at my lips, I want him more than ever, more than I want to kick him out of my room. More than I want to get married tomorrow. “Y/n?” He echos back. “Please? Just… Just fuck me yeah… I promise I’ll do anything for you.” A begged mess I have become all because I let him into my hotel room.

He grins in happiness and picks me up dropping me on the bed before ripping the robe off my naked body. “Finally, I’ve waited too long for this again.”

Completed on: 04/22/23

Posted on: 05/13/23

The Bad-

#pietro smut #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff blurb #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff drabble #fem reader #pietro maximoff smut #requests #requests are open #requests open #open requests #requested

34 notes · View notes

pietrosbulletsstuff · 1 year ago

Text

Send in some request while I’m finishing up some fics 🤭

#pietro x reader #jason dilaurentis x reader #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff oneshot #pietro smut

5 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year ago

Text

teamwork

kinktober, day twenty-six

a/n: ........I mean, how could i not? it's a classic.

summary: “oh, naughty, naughty you,” Tony crossed his arms with a chuckle, “what were you hoping to get out of this, huh? Sneak in here and seduce the whole team? Is one just not enough for you?” the rest of the men snickered at his mocking quips.

warnings: reader x pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson), smut, slight dubcon, pro athlete au (even though i know the majority of them are american, i’m just gonna say that they play for a team somewhere else just so that i don’t have to say soccer, it hurts my soul), the old oops i accidentally walked into the locker room trope, gangbang, everyone's a hoe, established relationship, kissing, size kink, dirty talk, handjobs, oral, thigh riding, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, bukkake, spit kink, squirting, impact play, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

word count: 5400

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“You were amazing out there,” you purred between pecks as Steve’s firm thigh, slotted between your own, rubbed against your core, your short skirt flaring out over the shorts of his uniform.

“Thank you,” he chuckled, his lips fluttering down your neck as he uttered, “you know, I think was even better with you in the audience,” nudging his leg more determinedly against you as you melted against the wall he had you pressed against, “like you brought me luck or something.”

Just then, as you felt yourself begin to soak through your underwear and mark your boyfriend’s uniform, someone from further down the hallway poked their head out of a door and shouted, “hey, Rogers!” reeling back from the crook of your neck with a peeved exhaled, Steve cast his glance in the individual's direction, “coach wants a word with you in his office.”

“Alright, thanks,” he nodded before turning his attention back to you, arms firm on either side of your head, cosily caging you in as he spoke, “I’ll be right back,” his leg reluctantly retracted from your warmth, “there is lounge down around the corner there that should be on the quiet side about now if you don’t wanna wait out here,” he offered a vague nod to his left before dipping down to near your lips one last time.

Smile growing wide at his considerateness, you breathed, “okay,” but the kiss you thought he wanted to give to you never came as his nose just ghosted against your own, seemingly savouring the moment before you felt him shift and his finger disappeared below your skirt, “Steve, what are you-,” but the rest of your sentence never saw the light of day as, with a daring smirk on his lips, Steve swiftly kneeled down before you and snatched your underwear down past your knees, keeping his eyes on yours as he methodically manoeuvred your jelly like legs to steal the sodden garment completely.

“I’ll come find you in a bit, yeah?” he placed a playful peck right above your knees before straightening back up.

“Steve!” you hazily giggled as he began to disappear down the corridor.

“10 minutes, 15 tops!” he called over his shoulder as he sauntered away from your stunned form, “then I’m claiming my prize!”

With a breathy chuckle still billowing from your lips, you pulled out your phone and rounded the corner, scrolling through your options of temporary entertainment as you neared the room that you could supposedly wait in.

Eyes glued to the small screen in your hands, you didn’t even glance up as you reached the first door you approached, not assuming there were any other options, you simply pushed it open and strolled in.

Fully expecting that you were nearing a couch or something soon, the room you’d blindly entered turned out to not be the lounge you’d thought it was, but instead, the team’s locker room as you swiftly walked straight into a broad and bare chest.

“Wow, I’m sorry-,” your eyes tore away from your screen to finally discover where you were. Vision growing wide, you stared up at the athlete before you, his golden mane rustling from the collision, “I-I-…”

Blinking up at Thor, your own name even escaped your memory as you found yourself in the very last place you should have wandered into.

From off to the side, you heard the voice of Tony holler, “hey sweetheart, fans aren’t allowed in here,” before leaning closer to the sandy buzzcut beside him and muttering quietly, “I thought they said they had tightened security around here…”

With your feet still frozen to the floor, your mouth hung agape as your eyes glazed over the recognisable individuals throughout the room, all in various states of undress. As Thor’s towering form moved past, walking over to snatch up a towel, someone else dexterously took his place, “wait a second, I recognise you,” you blinked back at the guy who rarely left your boyfriend’s side, “you’re Cap’s new girl, aren’t you?”

“I-I-, yeah,” you stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in here-”

“Oh, but you did,” Bucky teasingly took a step closer.

“I was, uh, looking for the lounge, and I was just staring at my phone,” you swallowed thickly as someone out of the corner of your eye peeled off their shirt, “I’m so sorry, I'll get out,” but as you whirled around to bolt out of there, you just collided with another individual that had slyly slotted in between you and the only way out of here.

“You’re cute,” you heard Bucky continue as you blinked up at Pietro, his athletic physique now completely blocking the exit, just as Thor's, the team's goalie, would do before the vast net during an intense game, “isn’t she cute, guys?”

Soft echoes of agreeance bounced off the walls before Pietro smiled down at you, “what’s your name, baby?” his accent sending a shiver straight down your spine.

“Y/n…” you softly uttered, your heartbeat deafening in your ears, growing and rippling out from where it was still thumping from between your thighs.

“That’s a pretty name,” his eyes washed over your visage, licking it up like he was at a museum.

“So, tell us, Y/n,” you spun back around at the sound of Bucky’s timbre, “did you really just not pay attention or did you perhaps walk in here on purpose?”

“No!” you squeaked, “I swear, I didn’t-”

“Because I think you were trying to catch a little glimpse,” he teasingly cut you off with a soft tilt of his head.

“Oh, naughty, naughty you,” Tony crossed his arms with a chuckle, “what were you hoping to get out of this, huh? Sneak in here and seduce the whole team? Is one just not enough for you?” the rest of the men snickered at his mocking quips.

“No, I wasn’t trying anything, I-,” the rest of your plea got suddenly swapped out with a shuttering gasp as the player sitting on the bench beside you had begun to ghost his hand against the goosebump-ridden flesh of your leg, sneakily twisting his position enough to catch a glimpse as his touch carelessly bushed against your short skirt, making it briefly fluff out enough for him to notice.

“Hey,” Sam boomed to the rest of the team, “she’s not wearing any panties!”

“She’s not?” Thor turned his head to join the festivity entirely.

“Fuck,” you heard Clint curse gutturally, “you came to the game like that?”

From right beside him, Tony bit down on his smirk, “what a little fucking slut…”

“No, it wasn’t-”

But before you could manage to convince them, Pietro pushed your form lightly and sent you directly into Bucky’s waiting arms. With your back arched like a ski slope, your short skirt rose up, covering virtually nothing, especially after you’d had your undergarments stolen, and granted the men behind you a pornographic view of the state Steve had left you in.

Catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Bucky tilted your head up to catch your hazy eye, “why don’t you wait here with us?”

“I-…” you blinked back at him, feeling your chest rise and fall rapidly against his.

“Rogers won’t mind,” he shook his head reassuringly, fingers shifting to gently caress you’re your heated cheek, “promise.”

“Yeah,” Pietro’s voice resonated vibrantly from behind you once more, “we always take good care of his girls…”

Utterly spellbound by his ocean gaze, your head nodded fuzzily, “o-okay,” your breaths came in shaky as you spoke, “I guess if you say Steve wouldn’t mind, then I could probably just hang out in here for a bit till he gets back.”

“Great!” Sam clapped his hands together, the sudden noise causing you to jump out of the burly arms that held you.

Leaning back against his locker, Clint then asked, “so did you enjoy the game?”

“Oh, sure,” with clumsy words flowing from your lips, your eyes traced Thor’s half-naked form as he crossed the room, “it was fun, I mean, you guys played really well, congrats on the win by the way.”

“Aw, thanks,” the man your gaze was locked upon sniggered as he settled in beside Tony, then leaned in to mutter in his ear just loud enough for you to catch, “Cap really wasn’t bluffing about her.”

“Dude, I know,” Tony harmonized lowly before raising his voice, “so, Y/n!” he slyly cleared his throat, “you never did tell us why you came to our game commando. Did you do that for us?”

“Oh, I-…” you averted your gaze, attempting to explain it with an airy laugh, “that wasn’t me, Steve kinda stole them a few minutes ago.”

Counting from behind you, Pietro challenged, “oh, Steve stole them, did he now?”

“Yeah,” you nodded bashfully.

“And just why would he do such a thing?”

“I-…” you redirected your vision up towards the ceiling, “I think it’s easy enough to deduce what he was thinking.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it,” Pietro playfully stepped closer, tilting his head to catch your nervous gaze.

“Come on, honey,” Sam’s tongue flickered out to glisten up his smirk, “don’t get shy on us now.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you then confessed with an exhale, “…we were gonna go celebrate…”

“Celebrate? Really?” Bucky’s gaze gleamed back at you in amusement, “well, that sounds fun, doesn’t it sound fun, guys?” he didn’t tear his eyes away from you as he countered to the others, their enthusiastic replies swiftly filling the thick air. Slowly leaning in close, he tugged a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, “you know what I think?” your head instantly shook, hypnotically granting him the answer to continue, “I think we deserve some celebrating as well, don’t you think? I mean, it wasn’t only Rogers out there on the field. Don’t we deserve a prize as well?”

As he cradled your face, all you could do was melt, “I-… I guess so…”

Closing the short distance, Bucky planted a feathery kiss upon your lips before tilting his head back ever so slightly to flash you a playful glance, “yeah?” his words were just above a whisper, “you wanna celebrate with us till Rogers gets back?”

With starry eyes, you blinked back up at the football player and hummed, utterly spellbound, “uh-huh,” before his lips pressed against yours once more, kissing you like there was no tomorrow.

Letting go of your face, his silky touch casketed down your form like a waterfall, flutteringly roaming, up and down, each time carelessly catching your skirt and letting it gather up with his hungry movements.

As you purred enchantedly against Bucky’s lips, Pietro behind you sank down to his knees, his intentions becoming clear as you began to feel soft pecks flutter across the backs of your thighs, his fingertips raking over your tingling skin in sloppy patterns.

But as his caresses danced their way further north up your flesh, I didn’t take long before the greedy man dove head first into what he truly wanted to kiss, rendering you to tear away from Bucky’s lips with a dizzying pant, “oh my god,” and bury your face in his brawny chest.

Lapping against your soppy folds, Pietro let go of your puffy pearl with a pop, briefly pulling back to share, “fuck, she tastes good.”

“Oh yeah?” Thor breathed from the sidelines.

“Like fucking sunshine and rainbows,” he elaborated with gravelly desperation in his tone before latching onto your core once more.

You barely noticed when people stepped closer, scarcely knowing whose hands were exploring your every inch, all you knew was how incredible they made you feel.

Squeezing your boobs through your thin shirt, nipples pebbly and clear through the fabric, you felt Tony’s breath tickle your ear, “you mind taking this off for us, sweetheart?”

Eyes fluttering over your shoulder to find him, you simply raised your arms high above your head and let them yank your t-shirt off and merrily discover how you hadn’t bothered to put a bra on this morning.

Glancing down, you watched as Clint cupped your softness in his wide palms, “damn, look at these fucking tits,” he gave them a little jiggle before dipping his head down low to place a few pecks along them. With the left of your small buds swiftly getting captured by his lips, a different hand took over palming your right as your fingers found Clint’s short hair, your nails scraping gently along his scalp, “you like that, hon?” he blinked up at you as he sucked, friskily nipping at your sensitive skin, “you like having these little nipples played with, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded hazily as someone reached out to pinch harshly the one not getting slobbered.

“What else do you like, huh?” Bucky asked, his radiating form still pressed up against you. Capturing your chin, his thumb extended to brush over your lips, “you like having something in this pretty little mouth of yours?” poking it in, the pad of his finger softly ran across your tongue before your lips enclosed around him, your head blissfully bobbing as you sucked on his digit, “yeah? You wanna suck our cocks?” he retracted his digit, smearing saliva across your cheek as you offered him a foggy nod, “you think you can handle all of us at once?”

“I don’t know if I can,” you admitted with excitement bubbling in your belly, “I’ve never been with more than just one person at a time.”

“Oh no, really?” Tony rumbled playfully, “you’ve never been shared by more?” he palmed your tit roughly as you craned your neck to gaze at him, “what a fucking shame, truly, you deserve to be worshipped like a goddess.”

“Don’t you worry, darling,” Thor smirked, “we’ll help you,” before Pietro as the last one distanced himself, letting go of your petals with a pop, as you sank down to the floor.

You hadn’t really noticed before, but now that you were at the right eye level, it became impossible not to take in the team’s enthusiasm. Most of them were already touching themselves and some even had already whipped their cocks out, the vision causing your eyelids to flutter as your brain turned molten at the possibilities.

“O-oh, wow,” your eyes grew to the size of plates as they tugged their shorts down, “I-I-,” lengths springing free all around you, “I don’t know where to start… wow…” a giggle suddenly began to bubble out of you as you tore your stare away from their erections to find their eyes, “h-hi.”

Grasping your hand in his, Bucky then wrapped your fingers around his girth, smiling down at you as he throbbed for you, “hey, baby.”

“You’ll all so-,” your dazed gaze flickered around at them all, “wow…”

Raising your other hand up, you enclosed it around Clint, testing out a gentle jerk to gauge their reactions.

“Yeah, right back at ya,” Clint echoed your compliments as his mouth fell open, utterly spellbound by your tender efforts.

Catching Pietro’s eye, you slowly leaned in and gave his tip a sweet kiss, smile wide as you then licked it a few times as if he was a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day, “oh, shit,” he groaned, the grip he had around his base tightening, “open up for me, baby,” parting your lips, he then slowly rocked forward to fill up your mouth slightly, “yeah, just like that,” you felt his pulse against your tongue, “fuck…”

Head bopping gently at a leisurely pace, drooling blissfully around Pietro’s bulbous head, you shifted your hands, eyes fluttering in an attempt to locate the others, Sam and Thor then instead came to your rescue by seizing your flailing hands and bringing them to what you sought.

When you pulled back from Pietro to catch your breath, his dick falling from your swollen lips with a crisp pop, you barely managed to suck in one whole breath before Tony’s hands seized either side of your face, bringing you close and sliding his cock in past your gasp.

“Here you go,” he groaned as he rolled his hips, instantly going so deep that he tickled the back of your throat. With his fist tight around his base, he reluctantly let you come up for air, pulling back so swiftly as if the lack of your warmth pained him, “show me that tongue, angel,” chest heaving and eyes a daze, your mouth fell open and did as he requested, a hot string of drool promptly dripping from it and connecting to your exposed chest. Grabbing your chin and holding it tight, he leaned down and spit in your mouth, watching only a moment as it sparkled on your tongue before he tapped the weight of his girth against it, playing with it like a rain puddle before he ruthlessly thrust forward so deep that his heavy sack nuzzled against your chin and his tip disappeared deep down your throat, “there you go, honey,” fingers woven in your hair, he kept you still as he fucked your face, “there you go…”

As Tony selfishly made you choke on his cock, Clint then knelt down beside you and reached under the short skirt that still clung to your hips. One hand still pumping himself, his other fingers found your core.

“Fuck, she’s so wet,” he groaned, granting your aching clit a few circles before your pussy practically sucked one of his fingers in from how turned on you were, slipping in with no effect at all. Girth falling from your lips, you let out a shuttering gasp. Pressing his cheek against your own, Clint chuckled lowly, “you like that, baby?” lavishly caressing your walls ever so slowly, “that what you need?”

“Oh, god,” you panted, eyes fluttering shut, “yes!”

As he offered you another digit, he kept up a dizzying pattern of pumping his fingers into you, petting against a spot that made your pussy sing, only to retract them in order to rub your puffy pearl, repeating the dance till your legs trembled against the cool tile floor.

“How about something else, huh?” Thor’s voice cut through your haze, “you wanna get that little pussy stretched out by something else?” your frame then jumped as Clint promptly landed a sharp slap against your soppy folds, forcing your eyes to snap open and your mind to race for an answer.

Eyes training on Thor, a playful smirk bloomed on your lips, “what do you have in mind?” you asked innocently before you leaned in close and swiped your tongue over his leaking tip.

Pumping his cock tightly in his fist, he tapped it against your beaming face and chuckled, “you really want me to spell it out for you?” to which you simply giggled under the weight of his length as a reply, one that swiftly got cut short and morphed into a gasp as Clint beside you plucked you up onto your wobbly feet.

Working as the team that they were, they spun you around so that your backside pressed up against Thor. Hiking your skirt far enough up your waist to render it useless, the blonde athlete gazed down at your dripping mess, nuzzled against him and virtually drooling for him to split you open.

“Look at that…” he briefly swiped his cock through your folds, parting them with his girth, “so pretty,” before his hips snapped forward and buried himself completely, “fuck…”

Eyes fluttering closed, you let out a shuttering moan as he held you there for a moment, savouring the euphoric sensation as your spine melted back against his chest. As Thor nuzzled you close, filling your cunt up so much that your knees threatened to give out, you felt stray hands find your tits, twisting and tweaking your nipples teasingly as some others grabbed your palms and guided them towards their cocks, enveloping their own around yours and fucking up into your touch.

“How does she feel?” you heard Tony ask.

Grip digging into your hips, Thor eased his length out, just halfway, before slamming it back inside, poking a place that pushed the air out of your lungs, “fucking incredible,” his lips ghosted against the shell of your ear.

When a pair of hands found your face, cupping your flaming cheeks, your eyes dreamily blinked open once more to gaze back at Sam. Briefly pressing his lips against yours, it nearly gave you whiplash when they then manoeuvred your spine to bend, bowing down for your mouth to be aligned with Sam's excitement.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he pumped his cock before you, smile growing wider as your soft tongue began to swipe across him, “don’t forget the nuts,” he lifted his length far enough out of your reach, groaning loudly as you began to drool all over his jewels as he wished, “that’s it, atta girl…”

Feeling Thor’s hands shift, one of them came to clench your skirt tightly, gathering the fabric on the small of your back and holding onto it as an anchor as the other one descended upon your ass, slapping away in quick succession, just hard enough for it to tingle deliciously.

It all felt like a blur, like a dream. A beautiful and intoxicating dream. The kind of dream you’d never wanna wake from.

After cumming all over Thor’s cock, in the hazy daze of it all, it took you a moment to realise that they had all switched out, trading places so that Pietro was now behind you, sliding in and out of your clenching cunt, and Clint was before you, sinking his dick so far down your throat that it left an imprint.

“This how you thought meeting the team would go, huh?” Bucky’s timbre cut through all of the moans, “this what you expected?” his touch was all over you, so hungry that you could barely keep track of it, “you expected us to pass you around and fuck your brains out?” gliding his palm down your spine, he then came to fixate on the little rosebud just shy north of where Pietro was having his fill, “has Cap fucked you here before?”

In between your sloppy pecks across Clint’s cock, you admitted, “a-a couple times.”

“A couple of times,” he chuckled darkly, “really?”

“What a dirty little girl you are, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the ass,” Clint suddenly got down to your level and plucked up your flustered face, bringing you close to his own, “say it, say that you’re a dirty girl.”

The words promptly flowed from you as if you were hypnotised, “I’m a dirty girl.”

Tapping your cheek lightly with his palm, he ordered, “again.”

“I’m a dirty girl.”

Slapping your features harsher this time, “one more time, what are you?”

“A-, fuck,” you whined, brows knitted as your pussy filled the room with soppy melodies of desire, “a dirty girl!

Just then, the door to the locker room burst open and in strolled none other than your boyfriend.

“Alright guys, listen up!” he called out before he truly took in the activities he’d just interrupted, “couch says that-,” but then when his gaze finally trained on your cockdrunk visage, the rest of his important message trailed off, “Y/n?”

“Oh hey, Cap,” Bucky grinned, none of the players slowing down at the appearance of their leader, “thought we’d keep your girl entertained while you were gone.”

Closing the door behind him, Steve took a slow step forward and sighed, “guys, seriously?” his glare found each and every one of them, “I was gonna talk to her first,” stride leisurely, he moved closer to you, peeling his shirt off as he did so. Kneeling down before you, getting on your level, a warm smile bloomed upon his lips as his eyes locked with your hazy ones, “hey baby.”

“S-Steve,” you whimpered, wanting so badly to explain, but unable to do anything other than melt even further.

“How are you doing, huh?” the back of his knuckles softly ghosted down your cheek as his gentle tone washed over you like a warm cup of tea, “you still wanna tell me how well I played today or are you too busy telling the rest of the team?”

“No, please don’t go,” you grabbed onto his tender touch, “please!”

Straightening back up to his full height, he pulled his shorts down and let his cock spring free, slapping his toned abdomen with its enthusiasm.

“You mind?” he offered Pietro a nod before the man complied, easing out, and passing you to Steve’s open arms. Scooping you up, his strong grip curved around your bottom entirely. Pressing your lips to his, you tangled your arms around his neck as he nudged your weeping core against his girth, your cunt already creaming and painting his cock a milky shade.

Carrying you in his arms as if it took no effort at all, Steve raised you up further, aligning you just so before dropping you back down again and letting you sink down onto his dick, the sensation causing a pornographic mewl to escape both of your lips as you let the fevered kiss crumble in order to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fucking hell, that’s it,” Steve groaned, lifting you up and down in his grip like a precious little cocksleeve, “that what you needed, huh? You needed me to fuck your pretty little hole?” palming your bottom roughly, he them landed a few swift slaps across it causing even more electricity to course throughout you with the sparks of pleasurable pain, “after the team had their fill, you still needed to feel me?” eyes squeezed shut, your drool smeared against his pulse as you felt him extend a finger and rub a few circles over your other hole, all of the other previous activities already slickening it up enough to make his dance molten and his initiative effortless when he plugged it up, “have me fuck you in front of all of them, give them a good view of what a beautiful mess they’ve made of you… Open your eyes, baby,” hazy vision blinking open, the side of your head stayed plastered against your boyfriend’s broad shoulder as your eyes locked on the spectators, “look at them, look at what you do to them, look at how much they want you.”

Trembling in his arms, so violently that you convulsed off his cock completely, it wasn’t till Sam excitedly pointed out, “oh, she’s a squirter!” that you noticed the gushing waterfall your high had showered Steve with.

“Damn right she is,” Steve smiled proudly, realigning his tender hold as he pressed a soft peck to your temple, “my girl is full of many talents,” with long strides, he then walked up to the bench in the middle of the room and slowly laid down upon it, securely holding your molten form close as he shifted, your body completely plastered on top of his as he cheekily spoke, “in fact, Buck, come over here, help me stuff her a bit more, yeah?”

Glance swiftly washing over Tony, Bucky asked, “hey, do you still have that-“

“Yep, of course,” Tony didn’t need any more to understand, hastily rummaging through his gym bag before tossing his teammate a small bottle of lube, “here!”

After liberally slickening himself up, you perked up a bit as you felt Bucky’s skin press against your own, your back arching up against his chest as he teased you, nudging his tip against your farmost entrance and rendering your form to yet again give into the ecstasy and recover in a flash.

But as soon as he confidently sank in at slow and steady pace, a gasp escaped your lungs, “oh my god!”

“What?” Steve smirked beneath you, catching your wild eyes as he teased, “what is it, babe? What’s he doing?”

Mouth agape and brows tightly knitted, you uttered, “he’s fucking my ass.”

“Who’s fucking your ass?” Steve’s mockingly sweet tone washed over you.

“Bucky,” you whimpered as he eased back out till just the essence of him remained.

“Why don’t you look back at him and say thank you?”

Twisting your head, you found his gaze and hazily managed, “thank you, Bucky,” the sensation of him sinking back in and splitting you apart made it nearly impossible to complete the task.

“Thank you, what?” Steve fished.

“Thank you for filling up my ass, Bucky.”

Capturing your face, Bucky cradled it in his hands as he smiled, “you’re so fucking welcome,” before dipping down to steal a sweet kiss, “any time, doll, any time…”

With your nose nuzzled against Bucky’s, your boyfriend’s low voice once more found your ears, “hey baby? Why don’t you slide my cock back in, huh? Stretch that little pussy out as well?”

Reaching down to seize it, you hummed fuzzily, “mhm,” before slipping it in, your eyes promptly fluttering shut at the ecstasy.

Their thrusts were slow but immensely intense, with a roughness hiding behind the pace that made you tremble between them.

“Fucking hell, if you don’t marry this girl, Cap,” you felt Bucky’s boorish fingers wrap around your delicate throat, “one of us will.”

Fighting to peel your blissful eyes open, you first caught sight of Steve’s adoring features beneath you, gazing between your fuzzy expression and your stretched-out holes as if you were some mystical goddesses. But then your vision glanced across the crowd of professional football players, all fixated on you and nobody else, stroking their cocks to the exact pace your holes got filled.

“I-I-, fuck-…” you whimpered as felt yourself once again near the edge.

“What, are you gonna cum again, sweetheart?” Steve moaned, rolling his hips up into you in a synchronized rhythm, “I can feel you-, christ, you clench down so fucking tight when you’re all stuffed like this,” he snaked his fingers down to strum your aching and overly sensitive clit, your frame nearly bucking away from him as he bullied the painfully puffy pearl.

“It’s too much, fuck-, I don’t think I can take it anymore,” you heard yourself cry, feeling as if you might actually pass out.

“No, no, baby, you can, you can,” your boyfriend declared determinedly, not slowing down one bit at the sight of your pout, “you can take it, you can cum with the both of us inside of you.”

“B-but it’s so much, I-”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you, don’t we, Buck?”

“Right here, doll,” Bucky’s warm palm slid down your front and grasped your left tit, his whole arm curving over you like a seatbelt holding you upright and close to him, “just fall and we’ll catch you.”

And with that, your pour pussy poured out everything it had, tears spewing from your eyes at the intensity.

“Aah!”

Convulsing, you nearly tumbled to the tile below, but they both held you close, safely in their grasp as well as far down on their cocks as your gushing core clambered around them and nearly expelled them entirely.

Maybe you fell asleep, for even a second, because that’s what it felt like when you blinked your eyes open once more to find your drowsy frame situated on the floor, the lingering aid from a few of the men to get you relocated still remaining as you blinked up at all of them.

Had it truly been that many cocks that had in one way or another been inside of you today?

Smiling up at all seven of them from your position on your wobbly knees, you let your mouth fall open and your tongue roll out once last time as they furiously jerked themselves to completion before you, the grin on your face only growing wider as their cum began to paint your skin.

Twitching and panting, the majority still let their touch linger needily as they floated back down to earth.

Broad chest heaving with every deep breath, “babe,” Steve bit down on his smirk as he gazed down at the decorated state you were now in, “say thank you to the guys for taking such good care of you.”

Making your gaze go on a round to catch each and every one of their doting stares, you uttered breathlessly, “thank you.”

7K notes · View notes

pretty-little-mind33 · 6 months ago

Text

Pietro Maximoff x fem!reader

KINKTOBER 2024

summary: You try and get Pietro to sit still.

warnings: switch!Pietro, kinda dom!reader, cockwarming, penetration, unprotected sex, swearing

Since Pietro had gotten his super-speed, he would quickly become impatient. He liked when things happened fast because he would often lose focus if things weren't moving quickly. Sex usually wasn't any different than that and in all honesty you didn't mind. Pietro always made sure it was enjoyable for you. He was good like that and so sex was good and quick, well except for tonight, when you'd wanted to try something different.

You're both sitting on the couch, well he is on the couch and you're sitting on top of him. Your dress is bunched up against your thighs and you're stroking his face, scratching his stubble and pressing kisses on his face.

Pietro hums, desperately wanting to move his hips. He can feel you above him, his cock stretching out your—already soaking–cunt as you stay incredibly still. "Miláček (darling)," he whispers, hanging on to the very last thread of dominance he has. His hands shake around your hips. He wants to move and fuck you so badly. "Please."

You shake your head and kiss his lips, moving to suck on his neck. "No. Just a little longer."

"It's been almost ten minutes, lásko (love)," he whines and you glance at the clock.

"It's barely been five minutes, baby," you laugh and move a little, to tease him.

Pietro's hands tighten around your hips, hissing as he moves his own hips. "Sakra, lásko, tady mě zabíjíš (Shit, love, you're killing me here)." You love it when he speaks Sokovian even when you don't understand him. He must be whining though, you know him well enough to deduce that.

"Shh," you whisper as you capture his lips in yours, "just a little more. For me. I'm always good for you, aren't I?" you say once you've disconnected your lips.

Pietro clenches his jaw but he nods and kisses you again so he can distract himself. He shuts his eyes, his body almost vibrating from the need to shift, move, run—do anything to fuck like he likes to.

After another few minutes, you rock your hips slowly as a teasing smile tugs on his lips.

"Shit, Miláček (darling), please. You're being unfair."

You lean in and kiss behind his ear and down his neck, running your hands in his silver locks. You keep rocking, each time becoming quicker as you decide to let him have his way. Pietro moans, becoming impatient now as his self-control breaks and he stands.

He picks you up, his dick slipping out of you for a moment until he spins around and lays you both on the couch. Your hands find his back as you arch into him, his cock sliding back into you as he thrusts faster and hardest.

You cry out from the intense pleasure mixed with pain and he slows a little, kissing all over your face. "You like it slower, lásko (love). Is that what you want? Didn't have to torture me—you could have just said something," he whispers hoarsely in your ear.

He's going slow now and you smile, enjoying the sensation. You nod.

"Naughty girl," Pietro whispers, capturing your lips as he punctuates his thrusts. He's taking his time now, making sure you feel every push and the way you fall apart is so sweet that he decides that slow and steady does win the race after all.

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @sayitlikethecheese, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @thewinterv, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader, @simplyreflected, @aunicornmademedoit, @girl-detective16

#pietro maximoff #pietro marvel #quicksilver pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff fanfic #pietro maximoff x fem!reader #pietro maximoff x y/n #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #avengers age of ultron #age of ultron #kinktober 2024 #mdni #kinktober 24

1K notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year ago

Note

hi so can we all agree pietro is a 10/10 pussy eater?

court in session

let’s hear from the jury:

we all can DEFINITELY agree. we feel like he does it just because. he’s not expecting anything else from it, not asking for something bc he’s eating you out. he does it bc he’s whipped and he loves it. that simple. had a bad day? he’s eating you out. just got out the shower? he’s eating you out. laying on the sofa? he’s eating you out. can’t sleep? he’s eating you out. we plead pietro guilty of being a munch, your honour

thank you jury for your service, court is adjourned

#ask #yonlyssguts #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff headcanon #pietro maximoff smut #pietro smut

81 notes · View notes

blue-sadie · 1 year ago

Text

Movie Marathon

Them getting distracted from the movie

Your rigid breathes and soft moans were almost drowning out the sound of the boring rom com you guys decided on, your eyes were closed tightly as he worked his fingers inside you.

He found the movie boring half way through and decided that he should annoy you instead, he started with throwing little bits of popcorn at you to get your attention on him but when that didn't work he started to tease you.

His hand slowly found its way onto your inner thigh, his finger tips running from your knee to the end of your pj shorts each time getting slightly higher into them, he then attached his lips to your neck making sure to leave a few love bites and hickies.

One finger slowly became two then to three, his slowly but eager thrusting fingers were driving you crazy, the movie was long forgotten as you squirmed beside him, him whispering his dirty desires only making it worse.

His fingers slowly fastened their pace and started curling inside you while his thumb rubbed your clit, your moans and whines only fueling his desire to make you cum but he won't just make you cum once no no no he's only stopping when your shaking and begging him to stop.

Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Barry Allen, Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne, Jake Lockley, Peter Parker, Pietro Maximoff, Bucky Barnes

3K notes · View notes

andy-15-07 · 2 months ago

Text

Jealous Flames

pairing: Aaron Taylor Johnson x female!reader

word count: 1193 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Aaron Taylor Johnson Masterlist

warning:smut

Aaron’s apartment was shrouded in shadows as the night grew late, the air thick with tension that had been simmering all evening. You’d returned home after a night out, and despite your reassurances, Aaron’s eyes burned with a jealousy you could no longer ignore. He stood in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed and jaw set, every inch of him vibrating with barely contained anger.

“Who the hell were you talking to?” he demanded, his tone rough, cutting through the silence.

You tried to explain, “It was just friendly banter, Aaron. Nothing happened.”

But his glare was unyielding. “Friendly banter? I saw you laughing, the way you smiled at him. Don’t you dare pretend you didn’t enjoy every second of it.”

Before you could protest further, his frustration and possessiveness exploded. With a sudden movement, Aaron grabbed you roughly by the wrist, yanking you toward him. His heated eyes bore into yours. “You think I’m stupid? That I don’t know what you’re capable of?” His voice, equal parts anger and desire, sent a shiver down your spine. In that charged moment, the sting of his jealousy ignited something dark and irresistible within you.

“You’re jealous,” you whispered, voice trembling yet laced with a provocative defiance. “And it turns me on.”

A bitter laugh escaped him as he pulled you against the cool wall. “Oh, you like it when I get this pissed off, don’t you?” he growled. “You love watching me lose control—knowing that I’d tear you apart if you ever slipped away.”

Your heart pounded in response. “I love it, Aaron. I love it when you call me every name in the book—even when it’s raw and angry.” Your words were a tease, daring him to unleash every ounce of his jealousy and need.

His eyes flashed with a mix of fury and lust. “Then show me how much you want it,” he snarled, his tone low and dangerous as his hands roamed over your body. “Prove that you’re mine—and only mine.”

The air in the room crackled with tension as you met his gaze with burning desire. “I’m yours, damn it. Take me—make me feel every bit of your jealousy.”

Without another word, Aaron’s anger transformed into a fierce, animalistic hunger. He roughly tugged at your top, tearing it away to reveal bare skin, his hands sliding over you with a possessive urgency. “You’re driving me insane,” he hissed, his voice thick with raw emotion as he pushed you toward the couch. “I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else. It makes me want to fuck you so hard, I’m gonna drown you in my need.”

Your breath hitched as you replied, “Then fuck me, Aaron. Show me how much you hate the idea of losing me.”

The transformation was instantaneous. Aaron’s eyes darkened as he pinned you against the back of the couch, his fingers gripping your hips with a mix of rough passion and unmistakable possessiveness. “You’re mine, you hear me?” he spat, his voice a venomous blend of anger and desire. “I’m gonna make you scream so loud, you’ll never forget that no one else can have you.”

His words, raw and unapologetic, sent shivers coursing through your body. “Yes, Aaron,” you moaned, your voice trembling with anticipation, “I need you to own me. Call me your bitch, your dirty little slut—whatever it takes. I want you to tear into me with that jealous fire.”

Aaron’s response was immediate and savage. His lips crashed down on yours in a searing kiss that was both rough and demanding. His tongue wrestled with yours as his hands fumbled with the hem of your skirt, discarding it along with the last remnants of your restraint. “Fuck, you drive me wild,” he growled, his hot breath caressing your ear as he murmured, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight, you won’t know what hit you.”

As he moved behind you, his touch was relentless. With one hand, he cupped your face roughly as he whispered, “You love it when I’m like this—raw, angry, and completely obsessed with you. Admit it.” His other hand found its way between your legs, stoking your already raging desire.

“Fuck, Aaron…” you panted, arching into his touch, “I’m burning for you. I want you to use that jealous anger on me, make me feel like I’m the only one in your world.”

Aaron’s dirty talk filled the space between your gasps and moans. “That’s it,” he barked, each word laced with a potent cocktail of lust and fury. “You’re mine, and I’m gonna show you exactly what that means. I’m gonna fuck you so fiercely, you’ll beg for every agonizing, beautiful second of it.” His tone hardened as he resumed his rhythm, the pace fierce and unyielding.

Every thrust was a declaration—a bitter promise born from a heart that couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. “You like it when I get rough, don’t you?” he growled as he pounded into you, his eyes never leaving yours. “You love that I’m so damn jealous, so fucking possessive.”

Your voice came out in a ragged whisper, “Yes, Aaron, I need it. I need you to own me, to mark me as yours with every angry, passionate thrust. Make me yours completely.”

As the tension escalated, his words grew louder, each one a raw command. “That’s right, bitch,” he spat, alternating between rough exclamations and tender, desperate pleas. “I’m gonna make you scream—scream for me, for the fact that no one else can have you. I’m gonna fuck you until you’re nothing but mine.”

The room vibrated with the intensity of your hate-fueled passion. Every thrust, every whispered curse and declaration was a testament to the complex fire that burned between you—where jealousy transformed into a heady, unbridled lust. Your bodies moved in a fierce, imperfect rhythm, every motion fueled by the desperate need to reclaim possession, to assert that despite everything, you belonged to him alone.

“Fuck, Aaron!” you cried out, your voice a blend of ecstasy and raw emotion. “I’m all yours—take me harder, make me forget everyone but you!”

With one final, powerful thrust, the storm of jealousy and desire reached its peak. Aaron’s gritted teeth and the guttural edge in his voice marked the culmination of your heated encounter—a moment where all the anger, the hurt, and the burning passion merged into one explosive climax.

As the intensity subsided, leaving behind a trembling silence, Aaron’s rough hands gently cradled your face. His eyes, still smoldering with the afterglow of rage and desire, softened as he whispered, “I hate how much I need you, how much it hurts not knowing if you’re really mine.”

You met his gaze with equal tenderness, the raw vulnerability in your eyes belying the wild passion of the night. “I’m here, Aaron. No matter how fucked up it gets, I’m yours. We’re in this together—even when everything’s raw and ugly.”

In that quiet, charged moment, the embers of jealousy slowly cooled, replaced by a fragile peace—a reminder that even in the midst of hate sex, the undeniable truth of your connection burned brighter than any jealous flame.

491 notes · View notes

domxmarvel · 1 year ago

Text

Rules

Prompt: Blowjob

Pietro x Female!Reader (Wandavision)

"Y/N" His hand reached for your hair,but you stopped him.

"I didn't give you permission to touch me" Pinning his hand above his head,tightening your grip on his wrist. As your hand wrapped itself around his cock you let go and moved your head to where your hand was. The first lick made him jump,thrust into the air as his back arched. Softly pushing him down before taking him in your mouth,he thrusts into your mouth. You pushed him down yet again,your fingers grazing the trail of hair that he kept surprisingly well maintained. It was only a few minutes since you took him into your mouth but you could already feel him twitching,he was close.

"Please Y/N please let me cum,please" You loved hearing him beg,you hadn't even had the chance to ask. Your lips let go for a moment to speak. "Please please" Your hand moved faster.

"Cum for me" He did just as you said,but you kept moving your hand until he was begging you to stop. You gave him a break,running your hand all over his body,until you reached his face. Cupping his cheeks as he looked up at you,kissing all over his face. Leaving no part un kissed. He looked tired,calm as if he could fall asleep any second. "Don't tell me you're already done. Cause I'm not done with you,not in the slightest" Trailing kisses down until you took him in your mouth again,his moans quickly filled the room,his hands tangled in your hair but you didn't care anymore. His tights on either side of you,your hand on his stomach. But that didn't stop him from thrusting into your mouth,until he came. It wasn't until he came down from his high that he realized he hadn't even asked.

"Y/N" he sat up

"You didn't even ask"

"I'm-"

"It's fine,but I'll make you regret that tomorrow"

"I can't wait"

"It's not really a punishment if you want it"

#sub pietro #pietro smut #pietro x reader #pietro maximoff #peter Maximoff smut #peter Maximoff x reader #wandavision #sub peter Maximoff #quicksilver #quicksilver smut #sub quicksilver

73 notes · View notes

mementos-of-me · 2 years ago

Text

Evermore

Chapter 4. Colder than this home

Masterlist

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3

It is officially Pietro time my friends!

This chapter is a little longer than some of the previous and takes place during the events of Age of Ultron, there is plenty of Pietro in this chapter though so don't worry, time flies when you're having fun <3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: canon-typical violence, lots of flirting arguing

2015

There was snow spattered across the landscape, a deep chill sitting in the air. There had already been complaints about how cold it was here; I hadn’t been particularly fazed by it. There was no cold that ever lived up to the Russian winters, nothing that compared to the chill that sat in my bones when I laid motionless in the carriage of that train all those years ago. I scanned the trees surrounding me, a flash of red hair, Natasha.

“What’s your position, Nadia?”

I glanced through the trees in the opposite direction spotting the red, blue, and silver shield. “To your left, Cap.” I leaned back against a tree trunk, glancing out to survey my path forward. “I will go through the trees and catch up with Stark on the ground. I need cover past that mechanical gun.”

Clint’s voice filled the comm a moment later. “Got it, on your signal.”

“No time like the present.” I pushed off the tree I’d been settled by sprinting between the trunks, my movements were quiet and calculated. I heard the swish of an arrow firing toward the machinery, but it was enveloped by a blur of blue that was gone just as quickly as it appeared. I narrowed my eyes. “Hey, did anyone else see th-” Before the words had even left my mouth my body came into contact with something solid, meeting the frozen ground soon after, the air knocked out of me from the force.

I heard Cap ask my position over the comm, but I did not offer a response, surveying my surroundings for any sign of what I had collided with. “You did not see that coming?” A voice taunted, though, the area surrounding me remained seemingly empty.

“What the fuck?!”

“Language.” Rogers reprimanded.

My eyes widened at his words, still there was no sign of the force which had knocked me from my feet. “Oh, my sincerest apologies, grandfather. I am just being attacked by something I cannot see but I will mind my language next time.”

“A Russian? Interesting.”

I whipped around in the direction of the voice but, again, there was nothing.

“What are you hiding from? It is just little old me, no need to be shy, road runner. Come out, come out, wherever you are.” I moved to perch; one hand pressed to the icy gravel as I scanned for signs of life. “Or are you afraid?”

A scoff bounced off the trees. “Afraid of what?”

My lips curved upwards, so naïve, so proud; typical man, cannot stand not having the last word. “Afraid that if you slow down you will have to face me.” The moment the words left my lips I tossed one of my blades toward the voice that had answered. Wind whipped around me, and the blue streak reappeared, gripping my knife by its handle just before it impaled him.

“That was not very nice.”

It was a boy, well a man, with silver hair that was dark at the roots. I narrowed my eyes at him, taking in his pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. He was quite handsome, unfortunately. I tilted my head, the small smirk never falling from my lips. “I’m sorry.” I moved to grab the other blade holstered at my hip, but he was faster; much, much faster. He grasped my wrist tightly, yanking it away from my belt.

“I don’t think that apology was very genuine.” I glanced at his hand which still clutched my wrist, breathing a light laugh before moving swiftly around him, twisting in his grip to bend his arm unnaturally until he loosened his grip, at which point, I dropped to the ground and swept his feet from under him.

When he was down, I pinned him to the snow-clad ground. “You didn’t see that coming?” He grinned at my choice of words and the taunting tone which coated them. Before I could blink, I was enveloped within the blur of blue and laying on my back beneath the silver-haired man.

“I like you.”

“You’re a bastard!” He only continued to beam down at me, even chuckling slightly at my fury. “Stop using your powers and fight me properly you prick!”

“You are very pretty. Although, you’re quite mean and you seem to have some anger management problems… that might actually make you more attractive. It’s hard to say.” A loud crash sounded from within the trees prompting the both of us to glance toward the source. Hulk had gone bounding into the bunker attached to the mechanical gun, blowing it to smithereens. The momentary distraction worked to my advantage as I freed my legs from beneath the man and kicked him off of me. When I was on my feet once more, I pulled the knife from my belt, taking up a defensive stance. “As much as I’d love to continue this… really, I would love to… I must be going now.” Before I had the chance to respond or strike him, he was gone in yet another streak of blue.

I saw Barton laying on the ground with Nat at his side moments before I heard Cap’s voice over the comms. “There’s an enhanced in the field.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” I jammed my knife back into its holster and made my way over to Nat and Clint.

Eventually, Stark collected the scepter and finally, we were able to re-board the jet. Barton had a nasty wound burned into his side. “Does not look so bad to me.” I shrugged teasingly as I surveyed the damage.

“Yeah, right, thank you so much for that. Unfortunately, we can’t all walk off being hit with a laser beam like I’m sure you could, Nads.” I grinned at Clint’s taunt.

“What is it they say? I am built differently.”

He scoffed. “One of these days I am going to kick your ass in sparring, and you won’t be so tough then.” I gave him an indignant look causing him to laugh, a hiss of pain cutting the sound of abruptly.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Robin Hood, you cannot learn what I was born with.” I smirked taking a seat behind Stark who snorted at my words.

Clint would be fine, that is what the doctor had said. As for the Maximoffs, Agent Hill had informed us about their past, the bombing, the experimentation. It sat heavy on my mind as I headed back to my room in the tower. I understood why they’d thrown themselves at Strucker’s mercy, more than I’d like to admit. When I was in the Red Room, I knew nothing, but Dreykov’s will. I hated him with every fiber of my being, so much that hate did not suffice to describe what I felt toward him. I loathed him so deeply that it felt as though my blood became so molten my very being would erupt until I was nothing, but rage and hatred incarnate. And yet, I obeyed, for 12 years, I obeyed.

When I got out of the shower and began toweling my hair dry, I grabbed ahold of the measly little purple ball that had been given to me by Bruce. It was ridiculous really, a stress ball? What did I need that for? As if a little rubber ball filled with God knows what could help me destress. I think it had been a good-humored joke, but he had smiled earnestly when he’d handed it to me, as if he were really trying to help.

A knock sounded against my door, pulling me from my thoughts. “It’s me, Nat, can I come in?” I told her she could. A moment later her red curls filled my view as she entered, coming to sit in on of the armchairs placed across the room from my bed. “Still no decorations, huh?”

“What should I decorate with? Lava lamps and band posters?”

She smiled; one eyebrow raised at me as she began to shake her head. “Why not? You could put up a little Ed Sheeran poster in the corner there, I think that’d look really good.” I rolled my eyes at her words. “No, that wouldn’t be very you.” She spoke. I hummed, walking toward the floor to ceiling windows that had been installed in the room. It had been an adjustment, certainly, though when I’d agreed, begrudgingly, to move into the Avengers tower, Stark had asked me whether I would like a room with a view or one without. I’d thought it an odd question then, but there was an unfamiliar gentleness to his tone that prompted me to respond seriously. I told him that I did not care for a view, but I’d like windows, light. He hadn’t pressed me, for that I was grateful.

“What would be me?” I asked, watching the traffic as it petered out below, so tiny from this height. Natasha was silent then. “I am asking, because I do not know.”

When more silence came after my words, I sat in it, allowing it to fill every crevice of the room. She did not need to say anything, neither did I. We both understood, in that room, in that moment, we knew each other better than anyone else ever could.

…

I smoothed my hand over my little black dress, zipping up my knee-high black boots and straightening my blazer as I stood back to my full height. I enjoyed events like these, where there would be talking and music, for so long my life had silence. I rather liked when it became loud.

The moment I stepped out of my room, Natasha appeared, insisting that we take a picture. Hesitantly, I moved beside her and smiled briefly for the camera. “Why must you inflict this torture on me?”

“I personally would like to commemorate the small things, grumpy.”

With a grumble, I turned to walk toward the party. Music filled my ears and soon I was surrounded by people, drinking and talking, laughing as though there was nothing so bad in the world. I sat near the bar, watching Cap talk to the old men decorated with war medals and strange hats.

He offered me a warm smile as he grabbed a beer from the bar. “Is it hard for you to see your friends now that they are all so…” I trailed off, searching for the appropriate word.

“Old?”

I shrugged before nodding. “When you are still as you were before?”

He looked ahead at the shelves filled with liquor bottles in thought. “It can be. I mean these guys I grew up around, they lived full lives while I was in the ice. It’s not easy to see everything that you lost laid out before you.”

I was quiet for a while, taking in his words. “Do you wish it was different?” He met my eyes then, raising an eyebrow. “I mean if you could trade it, one for the other. Would you choose to be like them?”

He exhaled deeply, rubbing his thumb over the condensation that gathered around the neck of the glass bottle. “Honestly? No.” I studied him as he spoke, unsure if I believed him. “What about you? Is it hard for you to be around Nat?”

I asked him what he meant.

“Well, the two of you knew each other before the Avengers and Fury, I’m guessing you share a tough past… I don’t expect you to tell me about it, but is it hard for you to be around her now?” I looked away, combing through my hair with my fingers at I watched the bubbles rise in my glass. “Oh, come on! You get to ask the hard hitters, but you won’t answer any? I thought we’d moved past that. You know after the whole S.H.I.E.L.D, Hydra thing where you pointed a gun at me and asked how you were supposed to trust that we were on the same side.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling a smile fighting to break through. “It was hard… once. Maybe it still is. Sometimes I think so much of life is hard that I cannot tell the difference anymore between what is painful and what is not.” It was honest, vulnerable, more so than I’d ever been with him and I wasn’t really sure what prompted me to tell him that. I knew I trusted him as a teammate he’d shown me his loyalty and righteousness when S.H.I.E.L.D collapsed but I wondered what had prompted me to offer something so honest and real about myself to him. He was quiet at my admission, though I didn’t feel judged. Surprisingly, as almighty and haughty as I’d once thought Steve Rogers to be, there was not many moments when he’d made me feel as though he were condemning me.

“I know what you mean.” When our eyes met there was an understanding that passed between us, a kind of gentleness that I did not take for granted.

I sat on the floor by Agent Hill as the boys discussed Thor’s hammer. “Whatever man! It’s a trick.” Clint spoke rolling his eyes.

“Please, be my guest.” Thor gestured toward Mjölnir, prompting Clint to jump to his feet and approach it.

“Clint you’ve had a tough week, we won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up.” Tony taunted. A smile curved across my lips as the hammer did not even shift under either man’s ministrations. The smile turned into a small laugh which had their eyes turning to me expectantly.

Stark raised an eyebrow at me. “By all means Pimenova, if you think you’ve got what it takes…” He nodded toward the hammer.

“Oh, I’m quite alright. I pride myself on being unworthy of big metal tools.” Thor scoffed at my words beginning to lecture me on the godly nature of the hammer and worthiness and so on and so forth. I lifted my glass to my lips, needing alcohol to hear this whole bit again. The bubbly liquid touched my lips but went no further. I sat there, champagne flute to my lips, head tilted slightly as the soft hum of the next song filled my ears.

Say, “nighty-night” and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me

While I’m alone and blue as can be

“What is this?” I turned my narrowed gaze on the group behind me; Tony, Nat and Steve.

Stark hummed. “What you’re not a Mama Cass fan?”

“Didn’t take you for the ‘dream a little dream of me’ type Tony.” Nat piped up teasingly.

My heart was racing but I didn’t understand why.

Sweet dreams ‘til sunbeams find you

The air was warm, and balmy but not humid. It must have been spring because everything was so bright, so alive. I sat on the sun-kissed concrete, the smooth surface pressing heat into the backs of my legs that were exposed by the shorts I wore. Little legs with brightly colored sneakers. I wiped at my cheeks with sticker-clad hands, there were tears.

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

There was a woman, I think. I could not see her, only glimpses of her hair that fell into her face as she knelt before me. She wore silver rings that glittered in the sun as she pressed a light pink Band-Aid over the cut on my knee.

“Nadia, is everything alright?” Nat’s voice cut through the memory, dragging me back to the room where everyone was still chatting amongst themselves, but her eyes were set on me. “Nadia?” She spoke again when I didn’t respond. I met her gaze then, nodding briefly and clearing my throat before downing a rather large gulp of champagne.

A loud ringing sound echoed off the walls around us then, followed by mechanical whirring as a dismantled robot appeared dripping black oil over the marble floors.

“How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.” It spoke. We all looked to Stark who called to Jarvis. “I’m sorry, I was asleep. Or I was a-dream…” The robot continued as Stark clicked at his screen, mumbling about reboots and buggy suits. “I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy.”

I stood then, watching the metal man sway on his feet. “You killed someone?”

“Wouldn’t have been my first call, but down in the real world we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Asked Thor.

Suddenly a scratchy recording of Stark’s voice was being emitted from the hunk of metal. “Ultron?” Banner spoke looking toward the other man.

The robot began speaking about a mission. “What mission?” Nat asked.

“Peace in our time.”

The moment he finished speaking multiple robots breached the wall, beginning to attack.

I dove for the stairs, perching halfway up and slipping the gun from my jacket. When I had one of the robots in my sights I reached over the banister and fired at him. It was thrown backward slightly but remained steadfast in his goal, now setting its sights on me. “дрисня” Shit. It flew directly at me, tackling me back into the shattered glass. I grabbed it by the shoulders and kicked it in the torso, sending it tumbling over me. Swiftly pushing myself back to my feet, I wrapped one arm around its neck from behind, using my free hand to grab one of the decorative metallic statues off a table and jam it beneath the mask. I pushed and twisted until sparks flew and the robot powered down in my arms. After the last robot was smashed to pieces by Cap’s shield, we all turned to face the one they called Ultron, still standing amongst the wreckage of the tower.

“I’m sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn’t think It through. You want to protect the world, but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to evolve? With these? These puppets?” He picked up the remainder of one of the broken bots, examining it before throwing it back down. “There’s only one path to peace. The Avengers extinction.” Before he could continue Thor broke the robot man to pieces. Yet still, in parts, he spoke. “I had strings but now I’m free.”

We ran stock on the lab for hours, finding just how much Ultron had infiltrated. Our files, all the data on us, he knew everything. Not only that but he also had the scepter. Stark stood by his and Banner’s madness, it seemed the rest of the team were very much not on the same page and cracks were becoming evident.

“Maybe we do not focus on who was right or wrong and we focus on finding the scepter and Ultron instead?”

Cap nodded. “Thor and Nadia are right, Ultron’s calling us out, and I’d like to find him before he’s ready for us.”

…

The ship was dark and sordid, rust clinging to the walls. I nodded to Natasha when she glanced at me. We crept along the ground floor, watching Stark, Cap, and Thor above on the bridge facing Ultron and the twins. They were attempting to talk Ultron down.

When a fight inevitably broke out, I backed away to where I could hear impending footsteps and gunfire erupting. Several men with bullet-proof vests and heavy weaponry emerged. Nat and I both began to take out everyone we could whilst Clint covered from above. One of the men wrapped me in a chokehold from behind, it only lasted a moment before I dropped and flipped him over my head, slamming the base of my gun into his head. I snuck up behind one of the others, grabbing ahold of his rifle and twisting it to choke him with the strap until he passed out. Just as I turned to locate Natasha that damned blue and silver streak rushed past me, knocking me down onto the damp concrete. My gun skidded across the floor, out of reach. “We must stop meeting like this.” His familiar voice filled my ears. I remained on the ground, wrapping my leg around his and tripping him over the moment he was still long enough. When he met the ground, he grabbed a hold of my ankle, moving back to his feet and dragging me swiftly toward him.

“I suppose I’m to say that you don’t have to do this, we can help you, so on and so forth.” I rolled my eyes. “But…. You have annoyed me now, so I won’t.” With that I planted my foot into his chin sending him tumbling onto his backside. “I grow rather tired of hearing you speak, metal man.” I called, grabbing the gun that I had dropped and shooting round after round at Ultron. When I whirled around to strike the person who I sensed approaching me a pair of arms wrapped tightly around me, incapacitating me. Before I could escape the grip, a girl stepped toward me, eyes red and hands dancing around my forehead. I kicked out at her but then, all at once she was gone, everything was.

I was laying on my back on the cold metal gurney, fluorescent white light burned my eyes making them water. Thrashing around against the arms that grabbed at my flesh, my back met the cold metal once again, pain shooting through my nerve endings.

“Нет, нет... Пожалуйста, прошу тебя, отпусти меня!”

No, no… Please, I beg of you, let me go!

There were voices all around, a moment later I was out of the hospital room, and I was in the shooting range. A hand moved from my shoulder down to my wrist before enveloping my own, tightening my grip on the pistol. There were people speaking to me, all around they called to me. Nadia. Nadia. Nadia. I blinked and classical music filled my ears, I saw the ballerinas en pointe, they twirled and twirled and when I blinked again, I was among them. Leotard suffocating me, pressing in on my ribs until the air could barely enter my lungs.

“You have done so well, my Nadia. The graduation ceremony will commence soon.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head violently, as if to shake the memories from me. My knees met the hard concrete beneath me, palms flattening against the rough surface. When I opened my eyes once more, I was no longer in the excruciatingly bright room, nor the ballet studio. There were still voices, but they were different now.

“Nadia, do you copy?!” It was Clint’s voice that came through the comm. I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off by a ringing in my ears.

“The graduation ceremony is a good thing; it means you have proven yourself.”

“You should feel proud, Nadia.”

“Yes. I copy.” I forced out through gritted teeth, clenching my fists as I pushed my body upwards to stand. “Where is everyone?”

The room had been cleared of life in the time I’d been out of order. “I’m with Nat, heading back to the jet now. Banner turned green so Stark’s handling him, no idea where Cap and Thor are.”

I stumbled down a corridor I hoped would lead me out of this hell hole. “I’ll meet you there.” Just as soon as the words were out of my mouth I collapsed against a wall, barely managing to hold myself up.

The music was back, so were the dancers. I shook my head again. I told myself it wasn’t real; it was just a trick being played on me by that witch girl. The ringing sound continued, and I cursed my mind for allowing her in, for being so traitorous.

“Nadia, my sweet, Nadia. This is your home; it always will be, home has a funny way of finding us, does it not?”

“No! No, this is not real.”

“But if it’s not, why does it feel so real?” The voice taunted me, following me down the corridors.

When I finally managed to shake it, I thought I was okay. The music was gone, there were no longer words spoken in Russian, there was no more Dreykov. Everything was okay, but then I blinked, and the room was bathed in red. I glanced around frantically but the red was everywhere. “No.” I murmured, my heart thrumming against my sternum, back pressed firmly to the wall. “No this is not real, it’s over.” I slid to the ground, cradling my head in my hands and shutting my eyes tightly. The red was not real, it was just another of her tricks. The red had been released, it had left me after Abeni cleansed me, I did not see the world in red any longer, it was not real; it couldn’t be, I begged it not to be.

“Why haven’t you gone with your friends?” The voice made everything stop for a moment, my mind slowed, though I did not open my eyes. “You are upset?” I made no move to respond, remaining pressed firmly to the wall, willing the red away. “What? Is it truly so devastating to lose one fight? I think you may have an ego problem.” Pietro’s voice was light, not mocking but certainly teasing. I heard shuffling and then felt his presence close to me, he had knelt down in front of me, presumably. “What is wrong with you?” I remained silent; hands pressed to my closed eyes. Warm hands wrapped loosely around my own, tugging them away from my face. I clenched my fists. I was so utterly petrified that the red had returned that my body barely reacted to the discomfort of being touched.

“Leave me.” I muttered.

He did not. “Open your eyes.” I squeezed them shut tighter, pressing my back even further against the wall, hands still clenched at my sides. He repeated himself, voice so soft it almost sent a shiver down my spine. I shook my head at him, but he ignored my protest going to repeat himself once more.

“I can’t.” It was quiet and barely sounded like me, or perhaps it did sound like me, but a me from a long time ago. He asked me why. “I can’t because if I do, I might hurt you.”

There was silence for a long moment then. “Is that not something you want to do?” I hadn’t decided if keeping my eyes shut was a better alternative than the red. He was still there; I could feel it. Shaking my head gently, I pushed myself back up the wall until I was on my feet once more. I faced straight ahead, away from him before I let my eyes open. The red dissipated slowly before me, turning to dust and nothingness. When I was sure the red was gone, I glanced over my shoulder at the Maximoff boy.

“As it turns out, I am fine. Off you go.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “What happened to you?”

I ignored his words, pushing off the wall and exiting the building. It was deadly quiet on the jet; the only sound was Agent Hill’s voice informing us about the damage caused by Stark and Banner. The latter of the two sat on the ground, wrapped in a blanket, it had taken quite a lot to get rid of the green guy. An air of defeat and exhaustion sat thick around us as Clint flew us toward the safe house.

#pietro maximoff x ofc #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff smut #pietro smut #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #avengers fanfiction #atj smut #avengers smut #marvel avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #aaron taylor johnson x ofc

89 notes · View notes

sixpounder · 29 days ago

Text

play your part

pietro maximoff x fem!reader

summary: in which you and pietro maximoff go undercover as a married couple, your mutual hatred simmering beneath forced smiles and lingering touches. but when the mission turns chaotic, tension ignites, and in the heat of escape, neither of you can resist what’s been building all night.

warnings: mature content mdni (unprotected sex, oral f receiving) enemies to lovers, language.

words count: 3.3k

lowercase intended

the ballroom was suffocatingly opulent, gold chandeliers glinting off crystal glasses, the murmur of conversation laced with greed and danger. you tugged at the delicate lace of your gown, suppressing the urge to adjust the wedding ring on your finger. it felt heavy, unnatural. and not just because it wasn’t real.

“stop fidgeting, dragă mea” pietro murmured in your ear, his accent curling around the pet name with practiced ease. his hand settled on your lower back, fingers pressing just hard enough to make you stiffen.

you tilted your head up at him, keeping the picture-perfect facade of a loving wife, even as you dug your nails into his arm. “touch me like that again and i’ll break those fingers.”

pietro grinned, far too entertained by your irritation. “that is no way to speak to your husband, love.”

the word dripped with mockery, and you bit back a scathing retort. instead, you let your lips part in a soft smile, eyes heavy-lidded as you trailed a finger down the lapel of his suit. “then act like a husband,” you purred. “and stop eye-fucking every blonde in this room.”

his grip on your waist tightened, just for a fraction of a second. “jealous already?”

you leaned in, so close your lips nearly brushed his. “i’d have to want you for that, maximoff.”

he chuckled lowly, shifting just enough that his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “liar.”

you inhaled sharply, about to throw something equally venomous back, when a sharp ding rang through the room. the auction was beginning.

the act continued as you both took your seats near the front. pietro played the part of the arrogant, entitled buyer well, legs spread lazily, fingers drumming against your thigh as if he owned you. every time you shifted to brush him off, his grip would tighten. a silent challenge. a reminder.

you retaliated with lingering touches of your own, fingertips dragging over the back of his hand as you leaned in to whisper into his ear, voice honey-sweet. “try not to make it so obvious how much you’re enjoying this.”

pietro turned his head, his lips a breath away from yours, blue eyes flickering dark with something unreadable. “oh, i’m enjoying this?” his voice dropped to a whisper, teasing and taunting. “you’re the one breathing a little heavier every time i touch you.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes, but you knew he was right. the heat simmering between you two had been building all night, long before tonight, if you were honest with yourself.

as the bidding began, pietro leaned back in his chair, arm draped casually around your shoulders. “stay close” he murmured, the romanian words for my wife sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. “wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

“oh?” you mused, turning your head to graze your lips against his jaw, just to see if he’d flinch. “and what idea would that be?”

his smirk was pure sin. “that you belong to anyone but me.”

your heart stuttered. you hated him. hated the way he could flip the game on you so effortlessly. hated that, right now, you weren’t entirely sure where the act ended and something real began.

the auction concluded. the stolen s.h.i.e.l.d. weapon was yours. and then, everything went to hell.

gunfire rang through the ballroom. guests screamed, overturning tables in their rush to flee. you and pietro moved in sync, slipping away in the chaos. he grabbed your wrist, pulling you through a side door into a dimly lit hallway.

he didn’t stop until he had you pressed against the cool marble wall, one hand braced beside your head, the other still gripping your wrist. his breathing was heavy, his body too close, his heat searing against your skin.

you tried to focus, to ignore the way your pulse betrayed you. “you-”

“you drive me insane” pietro growled, cutting you off.

you blinked, momentarily stunned. “excuse me?”

his fingers traced a slow path up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “you think i haven’t noticed the way you tease me? the way you love making me jealous?” his lips ghosted over your jaw, and you hated how easily your breath hitched.

you forced a smirk, tilting your chin up defiantly. “jealous? please.”

he huffed a laugh, then suddenly, so fast you barely registered it, he grabbed your hand and pressed it against his chest, right over his racing heart. “tell me that’s not the reason yours is doing the same thing.”

your fingers curled against the fabric of his shirt. damn him. damn him for being right.

the tension that had been building between you for months snapped like a live wire.

you surged forward at the same time he did, mouths colliding in a desperate, bruising kiss. it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t sweet. it was a war, a clash of teeth and tongues, hands roaming, bodies pressing together as if you could erase the distance that had existed for far too long.

pietro groaned against your lips, one hand slipping to your thigh, hoisting it up to press closer against him. “tell me to stop” he murmured, but it wasn’t a challenge this time, it was a plea.

your head was spinning, your heart hammering. “don’t you dare.”

his responding smirk was wicked as he kissed you again, deeper this time, slower, because he knew now. knew that, despite all the arguing, despite all the teasing and venomous words, this had been inevitable.

and neither of you wanted to stop.

you pushed him inside the elevator next to you and once the doors closed you blocked both of you inside, so you could have more privacy.

as the elevator doors slid shut, pietro’s back hit the cool metal wall with a soft thud. you pressed against him, your hands tangling in his hair, deepening the kiss. the small space felt electric, charged with the pent-up energy of months of unspoken desires and heated arguments.

your desperation ignited something dark and hungry in him. his hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer as he kissed you back with equal fervor. the elevator walls seemed to close in around you, intensifying the moment.

your body was pressed against his while you pushed him more towards the elevator wall.

“fuck,” he gasped against your lips when his back hit the wall, one hand sliding down to grip your ass while the other fisted in your hair. your aggression was driving him crazy. “you’re not very subtle about what you want, are you?” he murmured between messy kisses.

“shut up” you answered, annoyed.

he laughed softly, taking your jaw in one hand and deepening the kiss again. your body was flush against his, one thigh snaked between his legs. he hardened against you, causing you to bite his lower lip.

“damn” he hissed, hips bucking slightly, seeking friction.

in that moment, he flipped the situation. now you were the one pushed against the wall, and he was the one pressing his body against yours. he caged you in with his arms on either side of your head. his kisses became more dominating, his hands roaming possessively over your body. “i think i like when you’re quiet.”

“if you keep talking, i swear i’ll punch you,” you warned him.

he was so annoying, but you kinda liked it. he smirked against your lips, clearly enjoying the fact that you were threatening violence but still keeping quiet.

“oh, how tempting,” he murmured, his hands sliding down your sides, his thumbs brushing over your peaks. “maybe i will make you lose your temper then.”

you found it so frustrating how he annoyed you so much you actually wanted him. you didn’t know what annoyed you the most, if it was the fact he never shut up, or that he kept teasing you, or maybe it was the fact that you loved when he did those things.

he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered teasingly, “you know, for someone who claims to hate my mouth so much, you sure seem to enjoy kissing it.”

his lips quirked into a smug grin as he pulled back slightly to gauge your reaction.

you rolled your hips against his, enjoying how fast this little action made him stop teasing you. you smirked at him.

his eyes narrowed, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin as he realized you were using physical contact to shut him up. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him again. “you think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“oh yes, i am, basing myself on how quickly it worked and made you shut up” you teased.

he threw his head back and laughed, his body relaxing. his hands squeezed your ass softly.

“you know what your problem is?” he teased back, his voice lowering again. “you either want to kill me or…” he paused deliberately, smirking again. “spread your legs for me.”

“oh shut up, like you don’t feel the same way about me” you teased, rolling your hips against his again.

he smiled widely, pressing against you more firmly.

“of course i fucking do,” he admitted shamelessly. “see the problem here, love? neither of us wants to back down. i spend all day wanting to shut you up, then thinking about shutting you up by fucking you instead.”

“then? what’s it gonna be now? will you make me shut up, or will you fuck me?” you teased with a smirk on your face, getting closer to him.

his pupils dilated at your words, clearly enjoying this little dirty banter between you two. his smirk was predatory now as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “both.”

his hands snaked around to grab your thighs, holding you up as if you weighed nothing and pressing you against the wall. the only difference now was that your legs were wrapped around him, and also your arms.

pietro’s kiss became harder, more urgent, reflecting your desperation. his hands dug into your thighs as he ground against you, letting you feel just how much he needed this too.

you moaned.

he broke the kiss abruptly, breathing heavily. pietro’s eyes rolled back slightly at the sound of your moan, his grip on your thighs tightening. he buried his face in your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there.

“fuck, i can’t wait to hear how you sound when i’m inside you” he growled.

soft whimpers and little moans kept escaping your mouth because of his actions and words. you never wanted him and hated him this much at the same time. he was making you lose your mind.

pietro smirked against your neck as he felt your body shudder with each nip and grind. he loved reducing you to these desperate little noises, seeing you unravel.

“mmm, you’re so fucking responsive” he murmured, voice low and husky.

“shut up and kiss me” you ordered, crushing your lips against his again.

pietro groaned into the kiss, not needing to be told twice. his lips moved urgently against yours, tongue thrusting past to claim your mouth thoroughly. one hand slid into your hair, tilting your head for a better angle as he kissed you with weeks’ worth of pent-up frustration and lust.

he ground harder against you, his erection pressing firmly against your core. he knew exactly what he was doing, driving you wild with every movement. he broke the kiss just enough to whisper against your lips, “is this what you want? you want me to fuck you right here, right now?”

“yeah” you smirked.

his smirk matched yours, and he pressed his forehead against yours for a moment, breathing heavily.

“fucking hell” he muttered, then kissed you again, even more fiercely than before. his hands gripped your thighs tighter, positioning you so that his erection rubbed against your clit with each movement.

“fuck, there’s too much clothes” you commented, getting back on your feet and starting to undo his tie.

he watched you unravel his tie, then your quick fingers started to unbutton his shirt. he helped you push it off his shoulders, then your fingers moved to his belt.

he smirked. “you’re way too good at this. how many guys have you undressed?” he teased.

you scoffed. “fuck off.”

he chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours as you worked on his belt. once it was undone, he helped you push down his pants. he stood before you, with just his boxers on.

“better?” he smirked, stepping closer to you again.

“much better” you started to unzip your dress.

his eyes followed your movements intently, darkening with desire as more of your skin was revealed. once your dress pooled at your feet, leaving you in just a lacy bra and panties, he let out a low whistle. “fuck, you’re stunning.”

“i know” you sarcastically rolled your eyes, then leaned in to kiss him again, softer this time.

he laughed at your attitude, pulling you close with one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. “cocky little thing, aren’t you?”

his hand trailed down your spine to unhook your bra. as soon as it joined your dress on the floor, he cupped your breasts possessively, palming their weight. he broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, nuzzling between them.

“panties next?” he asked, his voice muffled against your collarbone.

you nodded desperately.

he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. he knelt down in front of you, helping you step out of them. once you were completely bare, he pressed a soft kiss to your pubic bone, looking up at you with a heated gaze.

you looked down at him, the sight was heavenly, his big blue eyes watching you made him look like an angel, but what he was about to do was the complete opposite.

he smirked, knowing exactly what you were thinking. he spread your thighs slightly with his broad shoulders, his eyes dropping to your core. "god, you're already wet."

“oh so now you’re acting like it’s not your fault” you teased.

he chuckled darkly, leaning in to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your center. his tongue swiped through your folds, tasting you deeply. He looked up at you with a smirk. "oh no, i know it is my fault. I love reducing you to a needy mess."

you moaned and He licked you again, his tongue firm and purposeful as it glided over your clit. he knew exactly how to touch you to drive you crazy. he kept eye-contact, watching as your eyes fluttered shut and your head fell back, a long, low moan escaping your throat.

he knew you liked it. He could feel your legs trembling as he hooked your thighs over his shoulders, opening you up completely to his mouth. he curled his fingers into your thighs possessively as he continued to lick and suck at your most intimate flesh. "look at me,"

“fuck” you moaned, you were trying so hard to keep your eyes open and look at him, but the pleasure was too much.

he smirked at your inability to maintain eye contact, knowing exactly how good he was making you feel. he slipped one finger inside you, then another, pumping slowly while he licked circles around your clit.

“oh my god pietro” you moaned. you wish you never had said that. you moaned his name. you never called him that, it was always ‘maximoff’ or sometimes to tease him you also called him ‘sonic the hedgehog’, just to get on his nerves, but never pietro.

His eyes snapped up to yours at the sound of his name on your lips. “what did you call me?” A smug smile spread across his face as he continued to finger you slowly, his tongue never stopping its torture on your clit. "again," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "say my name again."

“pietro” you moaned again.

his breath caught at the sound, and he redoubled his efforts, wanting to hear you say it again. his fingers curved upward to stroke that sensitive spot inside you while his tongue flicked rapidly against your clit. "fucking hell... say it one more time"

“pietro” you whispered into his ear “fuck me… please”

a shudder ran through him at your whispered plea. In one fluid motion, he stood, scooping you up and laying you on the floor of the elevator, over your clothes. he quickly took off his boxers freeing his hard erection. "that's what I like to hear" he growled, positioning himself between your thighs.

his blue eyes were locked onto yours as he slowly pushed inside you, filling you completely. He paused, allowing you to feel the fullness of him inside you before slowly pulling back and thrusting forward again. he kept his pace slow and deep, his eyes never leaving yours.

“fuck-“ you moaned as he pushed into you. he placed a hand on the wall of the elevator for support as he continued to move inside you, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm. he leaned in closer, his voice husky as he whispered in your ear. "god, you're perfect."

you locked your legs around his hips, pressing him more againt you, and making him thrust faster. a low moan parted his lips as you locked your legs around him, urging him deeper. he obliged, his hips snapping forward with increased fervor. the elevator shook slightly with the force of his thrusts, adding a thrilling sensation to your passionate encounter. "fuck, yes..."

he was making you a fucking moaning mess, he was hitting every right spot repeatedly, you were trying your best to not scream his name out loud.

he could feel you getting tighter around him as you tried to muffle your moans, his name on the tip of your tongue. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer as he pounded into you, his face burying in your neck. "say it"

“oh my god pietro” you cried out. “faster!”

he growled against your neck, his fingers digging into your back as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you so hard and fast. he could feel you getting closer, your nails digging into his back, urging him on. your pussy started tightening around his cock. his breath hitched as he felt you tighten around him, knowing you were close. he thrust once, twice more, hitting that perfect spot inside you. "fuck, you're going to make me cum..." his voice was ragged, breathless, as he fucked you harder, faster.

with a loud moan you finally came, reaching the high you were chasing, it all felt too good. He let out a deep, guttural groan as you tightened around him, pulling him over the edge with you. he came hard, filling you. he continued to thrust through your orgasm, drawing out every last moment of pleasure for both of you. "holy fuck... ". he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy and sated, his face nuzzled against your neck. he could feel your heart racing against his chest, matching his own erratic beat. he slowly lifted his head to look at you, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "you okay?"

“fuck yeah, more then ok” you chuckled. he chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before rolling off of you and pulling you into his side. "we should probably get out of here before someone catches us”.

“yeah we should, and tony’s still waiting for us…” you said sitting up. he sat up with you, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "damn, tony's going to know something happened” he muttered, buttoning up his pants. "he always does."

a/n: let me know you liked it, and if you did, don't be scared to like, comment or reblog, it would really help me since this blog is new. let me know if you have any kind of request, it can be of any marvel character or more, i'm happy to write them <3

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff smut #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver smut #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #marvel fanfiction #deadpool #x men #age of ultron #smut #marvel smut #x reader smut #x reader

280 notes · View notes