#sweet dreams peter maximoff

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This pt.18 Dark Peter maximoff x Fem Reader (mob AU)

Guess who's back!!

Summary:  Peter has felt like a piece of him has been missing ever since he was taken away from his mother to be raised by his father. But when you seem to fill that piece there’s no way he’s ever letting you go

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of violence 

Word Count: 2.1K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11| Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

His eyes were unwavering as he took it in and after a moment you broke the silence. “What is it?” 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his eyes moved to look into yours, dark and unreadable. He made you wait a moment more before replying in a hushed voice that set you on edge. “You look like you belong to me.” Peter held your gaze, you waited for it to drop like it always did but they held sure. “Say it.” 

“What?” You were taken aback by the tone shift in his voice. 

“Say it.” His hand reached out to play with a strand of your hair, winding it tight around his finger as he stepped closer, his hips pressing against yours. He dropped your hair and his hands came to grab yours, moving them to hook around his shoulders. When he released them you let them hang limply. Peter clasped his own hands behind your back, tight and unbreakable. “Say you belong to me.” 

The way he spoke sent a shiver all the way down your spine, dropping your heart into your stomach. It was different from the way in which he normally spoke, there was something darker laced in his tone. It reminded you of Erik, of the way everything he said was final and unquestionable. It reminded you that despite his moments of softness there was still a part of him that you had yet to see. Something cruel that he did his best to keep under lock and key, but in his moments of desperation managed to rear its ugly head.

You had glimpsed it once, during when you first tried to escape. You saw how quickly he turned to violence when his soft spoken cries weren’t enough. You had let yourself forget that moment, of how close he was to snapping, how badly it had hurt when he flung you to the ground. You had lost yourself in delusion and allowed yourself to get comfortable. Last night was proof of that. 

Peter is something much more dangerous than his father, while Erik’s actions are justified and calculated using logic, Peter’s were guided by emotions. Emotions which he seemed to have very little control over. Peter’s dark gaze continued to stare you down until you said it. Yet he still regarded you with that unsettling gaze until you locked your hands behind his neck and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. You felt the tension release from him and his eyes fluttered closed. He leaned down to bury his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. 

You did your best to keep your body relaxed, praying that he didn’t hear the pounding of your heart. Something had changed in him since you left. He had never been this way unless you had provoked him, now it seemed as if it was bleeding into his everyday without him knowing. You wondered how much longer it would be before there was nothing left but the version of himself that his father had created. You didn't know if you’d have any leverage over that version of him, you weren’t sure if your old tricks would work anymore.

Peter nudged his face against yours, a noise rumbling in him as you returned the gesture. For now it seemed you still had some, but you weren’t sure how long it would last. It wasn’t as simple as it was before. You couldn’t just play house with Peter because his father commanded it and do the bare minimum to keep them both appeased. Peter no longer seemed to be satisfied by your meager attempts at affection, he wanted it all. Peter’s obsession had grown in your absence and something darker had grown to accompany it. To ensure that you did as he wanted. You hated to see what would happen if you didn’t. 

You needed to get out of here, you weren’t sure if you could keep doing this. You had barely been back one night but you noticed that Peter was becoming attached, even more than before. Meaning that there was no way you could leave, unless you could get him to come with you.. But you had no idea how you were going to convince him to leave. You knew you had to try before it was too late, this new side of him scared you. And you knew that if he wouldnt leave you’d have to go without him. You slightly shook your head, trying to shake the thoughts from now. The motion didn’t go unnoticed by Peter. He lifted his head, resting his forehead against yours. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing.” You mused, petting his hair with your shaking hand. “Are you hungry, let’s get something to eat.” 

************

You didn’t know how to tell how much time had passed, all your days seemed to bleed together into one. Everyday was some variation of the one that came before. It usually started with Peter waking you up to get breakfast, which Peter prepared each day. The first day he did it, it had taken you by surprise, you had presumed that he knew very little about any domestic tasks, assuming that Erik had deemed them beneath him and had discouraged his son to learn them.

You had asked Peter how he knew how to cook and his motion of whisking the eggs had paused for a moment. His brow pulled together, as he looked down at his hands. “I don’t remember.” He mumbled, looking at his obscured reflection in the half whisked yolks. You had dropped the topic after that day, noticing that for the rest of breakfast he seemed lost in thought, as if trying to recall where he had learned how to cook. After that Peter would take you back up to his room, where you would lay together.

Peter’s head laying on your chest, ear pressed close to hear the beating of your heart. You had noticed that after a while your breathing would sync, and any time you’d try to change it he’d follow. An unsettling revelation. During this time Peter would ask you vague questions, you knew he didn’t like to discuss your life before the manor but his curiosity would sometimes drift his questions in the direction. Asking you about past memories or about the kids you taught. But while he was allowed to ask you questions about your life before you were never allowed to do the same.

Every attempt to ask him about his life before was shut down immediately, like that day in the garden. He just pretended that you had said nothing at all. And each day he would leave at the same time, picking himself off of you as he moved his hair back into place with a sweep of his hand and stood up, pressing out the wrinkles in his shirt and dress pants. He would look at you with a forelong glance as he left, mumbling how he didn’t want to leave you. You would tell him that it would be okay as you softly kissed his cheek and let him close the door behind him. The act nauseated you, it made you feel as if you were a wife character stuck in an endless sitcom loop, bidding her doting husband goodbye each day as he left for work. But after a while you became numb to the action and a soft smile sometimes graced your lips at the way it would light up his otherwise dull eyes. 

The first day he left you tired the door and found it to be locked from the outside, there were no other points of exit. You had tired the window and were delighted that it opened. But it was short lived when you saw how high up it was. Escape was futile. As the days passed you spent the majority of your time trapped in Peter’s room only leaving to eat during scheduled meals with him. You were no longer free to wander the manor, so you had no idea if anyone else had returned or if it was only just you and Peter. 

You had no idea what Peter did all day, sometimes you could hear soft piano music coming from somewhere in the manor, those were your favorite days, you would lean against the wall and listen. The music was always soft and sad, it pulled at your heartstrings but despite it all you always longed for more. Heart sinking when it stopped and you were left with nothing but your thoughts.

Your least favorite days were when you heard the voices of men enter, you could never make out what they said but you could hear the malice in their tones. And there was always one who was different from the others, it was desperate and at times would scream once the doors were shut. It never lasted very long but each time it did you pressed your hands to your ears and waited for it to stop. You didn't know what happened to those men, after the main doors shut it stopped all of a sudden but you knew that it wasn’t anything good. 

You also noticed that on the days the piano music played Peter would come back earlier, his actions as possessive as always. But there was a gentleness to him, he let you move at your own pace and never asked for more than what you gave him. But on the bad days he would come back with a hardness in his eyes, it would soften some when he saw you but no matter how much you coddled him it never fully disappeared. These days Peter was needier and more demanding with your affections.

But there was something else that was there, a sort of guilt. He wouldn't quite look you in the eye and when he spoke it was hushed. He would lay his head in your lap as you combed through his hair. Hand gripping your thighs in an uncomfortably tight manner. His hair was always wet, on the bad days he always showered before he came back to the room. But no matter how much scented body wash he used you could still smell something metallic on his skin. 

Like tonight, you tried to ignore it as you brushed through his hair. “How was your day?” You asked. 

“Fine.” Peter never said much on these days, just wanting to be with you after whatever it was that he had to do. “Did you miss me?” 

“Of course.” You hummed, continuing your movements. As the days in captivity passed you found yourself being able to answer his questions with ease. He closed his eyes at your touch. 

“I missed you so much.” He mumbled, turning his head slightly to look at you. “I wish I could stay here with you all day.” He took your hand and pressed a soft kiss into the palm. On these days Peter was more bold with his affections. “I wish it was just you and me. That all I did all day was stay in this bed with you.” Your eyes widened at his confession, snapping you out of your domestic trance. 

“What if it was.” You whispered, tracing the bridge of his nose. His brow knitted together and he regarded you with an unreadable look. You opened your mouth to speak, wanting to voice your ideas about leaving and him going with you. But the longer he looked at you the more you doubted the chances of him agreeing. “Nevermind, I wish you could spend all day with me too.” He smiled at that and went back to enjoying your gentle touches.

After that night you began to feel your desire to run waning, you had tired every means of escaping the room and found there to be none. And as you weighed your chances of escaping from Peter himself the hopelessness of it all seemed to crush your very will to try. You began to grow comfortable to the predictableness of each day. 

That was until you awoke one night with a start, the feeling as if you were being watched becoming true as you regarded the dark figure in the doorway with wide eyes. A pair of familiar eyes and a cruel sneer filled with brilliant white teeth piercing through the darkness. “Did you miss me?” 

Taglist: @joshdunstoothbrush75@coffeeandteaintheevening@livingmybestfictionallife@amourtentiaa@madison05x@rottenstyx @raincoffeeandfandoms@ietss@cursedandromedablack@castielsguardianangel22@nightlockcornucopia@usuck@xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx@darlingevanpeters@whyisaah@hollandlover19@quicksilversg1rl@loversjoy@sweetxswiftie13@moonr1ver r @funelinee@kenmas-nintendoswitch @aruiiiii@foreverloops @jamesmarchisbae @bxtchopolis@demxnicprxncess@yes-divine-ruler@slayingdaily @valeriinee @clareissad @sweetxswiftie13

[luaalz]

My boy is so stupid, that's what I love most about him

[ticifics]

Sweet Temptation

Peter Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: "You really don't have any idea, do you?" He leaned in even closer, so close that you could feel his heat enveloping you, stealing any breath you had left. "Do I have to show you?"

Warnings: Peter being a lovesick idiot, and themes of insecurity and self-image

A/N: It was my third request - anon, I hope you like it! 🩷

When Peter saw you enter the basement, he knew something was wrong right away. He didn’t need words or gestures, just that little frown and the way you avoided looking directly at him. Peter became an expert on you, recognizing the slightest changes in your face, as if each expression were a clue in a puzzle that only he could decipher.

Without thinking twice, he was already running to the other side of town, to his favorite bakery. It was a small place, with shiny windows displaying sweets that looked like true works of art: pastel-colored macarons, éclairs with sparkling icing, tiny cupcakes decorated with flower petals. Everything there was delicate, perfect.

He paused for a moment in the doorway, holding his breath. It was impossible not to associate you with this place. Those refined pastries had the same elegance as you, as if the baker had created them with you in mind. And Peter, with his thoughts always racing, found himself once again wondering what it would be like to take you there on a real date. He would make some silly joke to get a smile, then insist that you try the chocolate éclair. When he finally kissed you, it would taste sweet with vanilla and sugar.

"Stop daydreaming, Maximoff," he muttered to himself, shaking his head before going in and ordering a selection of the best things in the display case. It was expensive, but that didn't matter. He just wanted to see you smile again.

When he came back, you were still in the basement, pacing back and forth. Your hair flying in every direction, a consequence of when you were too absorbed in your own thoughts.

And, man, he loved seeing you like that, it was one of the reasons he was always annoying you. Your hair whipping in all directions was a sight to behold. Simply fantastic.

Cyclone. That was how people knew you.

But they had no idea that someone with such destructive powers could work wonders on especially hot days. Peter would melt against your body when you summoned a gentle breeze, driving away the heat with a simple movement of your fingers. He would sigh when he felt the cool air blow against his hair, and then he would go all limp until his body returned to a normal temperature. What could he do? He was especially sensitive to heat.

He stopped at the entrance, holding the box of sweets like it was some kind of trophy.

"I'm back!" he announced, with that smug smile he always used to hide any vulnerability. He waved the box in the air. "And look, I brought something that suits you perfectly."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "Oh, yeah? And what would that be?"

"Pretty, delicate… and very expensive." He winked at you, walking into the basement and placing the box on the small table in the corner.

You laughed softly, but not as lightly as usual. There was still something different, and it made Peter's chest tighten. He opened the box with an exaggerated flourish, revealing the perfectly arranged sweets, and picked up one of the macarons to offer you.

"Go on, try it. This one tastes like strawberry or something. It looks good."

You hesitated. It was an almost imperceptible movement, but enough for Peter to notice. "What is it?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

"It's nothing." You shrugged, looking at the sweets as if they were some kind of trap. "It's just… not everyone has a super fast metabolism like you."

"You're kidding, right?" Peter laughed, but the sound died quickly when he saw the way you looked away.

"No kidding," you said, crossing your arms defensively. "Those things are fattening, and… right now, I can't dream of gaining any extra weight."

He fell silent, waiting for you to continue, but what came next was a whisper that hit him like a punch. "I'm already huge."

The words hung in the air, heavy, and something inside him snapped. He'd never heard you speak of yourself so rudely. How could you see yourself that way? To him, you were everything. Perfect.

"You're not serious," he said, his voice lower than usual, almost a whisper. "Huge? Where did you get that from?"

You snorted, but didn't look at him. "Peter, forget it. You wouldn't understand."

"Wouldn't you understand?" he repeated, taking a step forward. "I understand more than you think. And honestly, you're wrong."

"Wrong about what?" You finally looked up at him, but there was something vulnerable in your gaze that completely disarmed him.

"About you. About all of this." He gestured to the box of sweets and then to you. "You know what? I paid a fortune for this, so you're going to eat one of these macarons, even if I have to lecture you to do it."

You laughed nervously, but Peter wasn't kidding. He stepped closer, standing so close that he could feel your heat. "You have no idea how I see you, do you?"

"Peter…" you began, but he shook his head, cutting you off.

"I see someone amazing. Someone who makes me laugh even when I'm having the worst day. Someone who makes me want to be… I don't know, a little less of an asshole." He laughed, but the sound was strained. "And seriously, you are beautiful. Like, absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, beautiful. So stop saying such horrible things about yourself, because I can't even process how you could think that."

Peter didn’t look away, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of your face, the way you avoided looking at him, your nervous fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. There was a tension in the air, something that made the space between you seem even smaller than it was. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, husky, as if the words carried something greater than he could admit.

“You don’t understand, do you?” He took a step closer, close enough that you could feel the heat emanating from him. “You think it’s all in your head, that no one notices… but I see it. I see everything. And you… you’re exactly how a woman should be.”

He paused, letting the sentence hang in the air for a moment before continuing. His gaze ran up and down you, slow, intense, as if he were discovering something that left you completely breathless. When he spoke again, his tone had an almost devotional reverence, but still with the characteristic touch of humor that was so much his.

"There are no lines, you know? No straight lines. You're all curves, succulent, perfect. There are no sharp edges, just… a softness that seems divine. Like, honestly, it's unfair." He laughed, but he didn't look away, and the intensity in his eyes was almost disconcerting. "You're living proof that some things in this world were made to be admired. And if you can't see that, I think I'll have to spend the rest of my life trying to convince you."

He took another step, now so close that any movement from you would be enough to close the distance between you. The smile he gave was small, almost shy, but his eyes shone with something you couldn't define, a mix of desire, admiration and vulnerability.

"So, stop saying those horrible things about yourself, because, honestly? It drives me kind of crazy." He laughed nervously, running a hand through his silver hair, but his eyes were still fixed on you. "Like, how can someone look at you and not think they're looking at perfection? It doesn't make sense. Not to me."

The silence returned, but it was different now, heavy with everything he wasn't saying. His eyes were still locked on yours, but there was something else there, a hesitation, as if he was waiting for a sign, anything, to finally cross the line that seemed to separate them. And deep down, he knew he was already completely lost.

You didn't look away, even when you felt a blush heat your cheeks. It was as if you were trapped in the intensity of those dark eyes that seemed to see every part of you, dismantling any facade you might try to put up. His name escaped your lips in a low whisper, hesitant, but filled with something that not even you could name.

"Peter…"

Your tone hit you like a punch in the chest. The world seemed to have stopped spinning in that instant, leaving only the two of you, so close it was almost painful. You looked like a deer caught in the headlights, your lips parted and your breathing fast, almost panting, as if you were running.

"What does that mean?" Your voice broke the silence, fragile and uncertain, as if you were risking something that could change everything.

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to find some strength within himself before taking the next step. And then he did. He approached you, so slowly that the air between you seemed to vibrate, charged with something undeniably electric. He lifted his hands, hesitant for a split second, before cupping your face between them.

The touch was a perfect contrast of firmness and delicacy. His thumbs brushed the warm skin of your cheeks, and the sigh that escaped Peter's lips was almost imperceptible, but so full of emotion that you felt the impact like a thunderclap. He gently brushed away a strand of hair that fell over your face, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary, as if he wanted to capture the feeling forever.

"You're so…" He began, but laughed, a dry sound, filled with something that seemed like a mix of frustration and self-mockery. He shook his head, his eyes shining with a heat that seemed to steal the air from the room. "You know what I'm good at doing?"

You couldn't answer, but he didn't expect you to. The closeness was unbearable, his breath mingling with yours, so hot you could feel the slightest difference in rhythm. He tilted his head, his face now so close his lips almost brushed yours.

"I ruin things, love." The word slipped from him in a whisper, low and husky, filled with something that made every nerve in your body throb. "It's what I always do. Always."

But there was a hopelessness there, a vulnerable glint in his eyes that didn't match the tone of his voice. It was like he knew he was crossing a line he could never come back from, but he couldn't help himself. He swallowed hard, and his touch on your face grew firmer, like he wanted to anchor you in that moment.

And then he leaned in even closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours in a way that was almost innocent, but held a promise that made your heart hammer in your chest. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a moment that seemed to last an eternity. The desire was palpable, barely contained, overflowing in the way his eyes almost begged for permission, even though he knew he had already lost himself completely in you.

"Peter…" You whispered again, your voice a little hoarser, filled with a heat that seemed to melt any barrier between you. Slowly, your hands rose, hesitant, as if you were trying to contain the overwhelming wave that threatened to swallow you. But the moment your arms wrapped around his waist, something inside Peter gave way, a rope already so tense that it finally snapped.

He shuddered under your touch, his muscles contracting beneath your fingers, as if your every movement had the power to set him on fire. A curse escaped his lips, low and hoarse, more to himself than to you. "Fuck," he muttered, almost as a rant, his dark eyes sparkling with something between frustration and pure desire. "You really have no idea, do you?" He leaned in even closer, so close that you could feel his heat enveloping you, stealing any breath you had left. "Do I have to show you?"

His hands slid down your back, warm and firm, and before you could react, he pulled you in a movement too fast, almost careless, pressing your body against his. The impact made you gasp, and the soft sound only fueled the determination that burned in Peter’s eyes. His fingers found the curve of your waist, squeezing it with a mixture of reverence and desperation, as if he were trying to engrave that feeling into every fiber of his memory.

He knew he was ruined. You were too close, so unbearably close, making any rational thought impossible. All that existed was you—the way you molded perfectly against him, the heat of your body against his, the way your scent seemed to cloud all his senses.

And then he gave in.

His lips met yours with an urgency that bordered on desperation, as if he had been waiting for this moment for so long that he couldn't bear to wait even a second longer. How many times had he dreamed about this? How many nights had he spent losing himself in fantasies where you were his, where he could kiss you like he always wanted, without fear, without hesitation?

But no dream could compare to reality.

You were sweet, so sweet that he felt like he was drowning in a sea of ​​sugar and heat. Your soft lips moved against his in perfect synchrony, as if you had been made for this, to lose yourselves in each other. His hand rose from your waist to the base of your neck, holding it with careful firmness, while he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, seeking more of you, always more.

The world around him disappeared, as if nothing else mattered but that moment, that kiss that seemed to be the peak of everything. Peter felt intoxicated, every part of you burning against him like a living spark that set everything in its path ablaze. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to run. He wanted to stay right there, with you, feeling you. Living you.

When you finally spoke, your voice was barely a whisper, but it was firm enough for Peter, who could barely breathe, to understand. “Me too, Peter,” you said, and the word “love” seemed to fill the space between you, as if the world had stopped to listen. He couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across his face, a smile that was pure, innocent, and full of joy that he could barely contain. It was as if all the pieces of the puzzle, that he hadn’t even known were out of place, finally fit together.

“You,” he whispered, and his voice shook. The words he wanted to say were trapped, because reality surpassed even his wildest dreams. He leaned toward you again, with an urgency that made your heart beat too fast, as if it wanted to jump out of your chest. When your lips met, it was as if the world exploded in a color and intensity he had never experienced. The kiss was more than passionate; it was a carnal and sweet desperation, a promise and a concession, as if he were trying to convey everything he had kept to himself.

His fingers explored your back, feeling the warm skin and the vibration of each sigh you took. He separated from you only for a moment, his breathing still rapid and his eyes fixed on yours, to make sure that this was real. With a gesture that was almost a ritual, he took one of the sweets, holding it at the level of your lips.

“Eat,” he said, his voice husky and filled with a kind of adoration he barely knew he possessed.

You didn’t hesitate, and your eyes lit up as you accepted the candy from his hand, the sensation bittersweet and sweet all the same, in a play of flavors and smiles. But before you could settle into that moment, with a mischievous movement, you bit Peter’s finger, and the surprise turned into a shiver that ran down your spine.

“Do you really think you can tease me and get away with it?” he asked, but the laugh that followed was a promise. He tilted his head back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as you laughed, and he pulled you closer, without another word. The kiss that followed was intense and uncontrolled, a meeting of souls that burned with every touch and every murmur. Peter was no longer in control; the excitement, the desire and the happiness overflowed, and he wanted more, he wanted everything, and that was what he needed.

[silverzoomies]

Alone

peter maximoff x reader fluff

warnings: fluff, humor, first meetings, pining, female reader

word count: 3,461

a/n: just a drabble i spent way too long on. based on something i used to daydream about a lot. happy late valentine's day !!

tag list: @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Peter sits, slouched on the floor against the foot of a sofa. Glimmers of light flicker in his eyes, as he indulges in some mind numbing television. Reruns of Frasier play stereotypical laugh tracks, droning through the basement. He can’t help but follow suit. Chuckling along in quiet huffs, he shakes his head.

Upstairs, the house rests in silence. Dead quiet. Magda snores softly in her room. Lorna’s probably conked out too. And Wanda? She’s gone. Somewhere. He could never guess. She doesn’t tell anyone where she goes on weeknights. But hey, what’s it matter to him? So long as she’s playing it safe.

Peter snickers at another corny, sitcom joke. He guzzles down handfuls of Reese's pieces. The candies rustle in their small box. But with the rustle, his ears catch something else. Distant and faint. Outside the realm of television laugh tracks and candy clicks.

It’s a lyrical melody, playing with romantic cadence from outside the basement window. Peter tilts his head back, drinking a glass bottle Pepsi. Fizzy sweetness mildly irritates his throat. Raising a brow, he guides his gaze to the window. One more chug of his soda, and he snatches the remote.

The roar of sitcom television falls into stillness.

And sure enough, a tune whispers from beyond the window’s glass. Like the call of a sea siren through the neighborhood. But it’s 10pm on a Tuesday night. And the likelihood of a smokin’ hot siren crawling from the ocean - to a house in middle class suburbia - is beyond impossible. Unless Peter’s dreaming again.

In which case; wait for him, nautical dames. He'll grab his trunks and be out flash.

And the night goes by so very slow

Oh I hope that it won’t end though

Alone

Peter narrows his eyes at the window, scoffing to himself. Woah, now. Is he warped in the head? Or is the mantra of Heart crying out from beyond the shadows? Peter appears at the window in a zip. Raising himself on his toes, he launches his body upward. Through smudged glass, Peter’s black hues scan the world outside. A shadowy mass looms in the grass, imposing and somewhat terrifying.

Until he realizes, it’s someone holding a giant boombox over their head. Phew .

Til now I always got by on my own

I never really cared until I met you

And now it chills me to the bone

How do I get you alone

Peter’s silver brows furrow again.

“What the hell?” He mutters under his breath.

He unlatches the window, pushing it open. Allowing that unmistakable tune to come through much clearer. Peter watches the mysterious, boombox stranger for a moment longer. A beat passes, and Peter sighs. He could just as easily zip out there, confront the culprit, and return to his basement lickety split. Instead, he opts for the casual approach.

Peter pushes himself through the window, his bare feet scuffing the basement wall. He accidentally kicks over a set of speakers. Some he stole five years ago and forgot about. They tumble off a wall shelf and crash hard onto the floor. Knocking down a bunch of stolen street signs in their wake. If Maximoffs weren’t such deep sleepers, he’d be in for it now. Big time.

As soon as Peter’s out, he stumbles in the grass. Mumbling a hushed - Shit.

You don’t know how long I have wanted

To touch your lips and hold you tight

You don’t know how long I have waited

And I was going to tell you tonight

Crawling through the dry, winter grass, Peter finally stands. With an exhale, he wipes dirt from his grey sweatpants. The rando in his yard doesn’t react, but they lower the boombox a little. Peter waits at a distance, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Who are you? Whaddya wannnnnt?” He shouts.

Til now I always got by on my own

I never really cared until I met you

And now it chills me to the bone

How do I get you alone?

No response from the rando. With a simple gesture, they tap the speaker of the boombox. Whatever that means. Rolling his eyes, Peter strides across the cold grass. Shirtless in the brisk, February air. He raises a hand to scratch his messy, silver bedhead. As he moves in closer, the neighborhood street lights illuminate the figure’s features.

Up until now, he thought some weirdo guy snuck out to pine for Wanda’s attention. Peter’s ready to kick his ass if he needs to. Poor Wanda’s always got dudes falling to her feet on Valentine's day. But she usually does the ass kicking. More power to her.

Guess he won’t have to this time. Turns out, it’s just some weirdo girl.

How do I get you alone?

How do I get you alone?

Peter puts a stop to the song before it reaches its end. Extending a hand in a quick blur, he abruptly clicks a button on the box. The neighborhood drowns itself in late night silence all over again. Interrupted only by the occasional car passing in the distance. Peter’s vascular arms cross over his chest. Lidded eyes leer straight at the mystery woman.

“Sooooooooo…” He tilts his head to the side, “Who are you? And why are you playing Heart outside my house at, like, ass-o-clock at night?” Peter pauses, eyes narrowing in suspicious slits, “Are you tryna pick up my sister? ‘Cuz you kinda look the type. And I know she’s been ‘tryin’ new things’ lately.” He gestures with air quotes, “If you catch my drift. Not that it’s any of my business. Point is , she’s not here.”

Boombox girl lowers said boombox down into the grass. She shakes her head, reaching into the pocket of her oversized cardigan.

“Pick up your sis- hah! ” She snickers with a snort, dawning a bashful smile. Boombox girl runs her other hand through her hair, “No! Noooo, it’s not like that! Uhm…I was actually playing Alone for you, silly.”

Peter drops his arms to his sides, and his heart skips a speedy beat. Scrunching his nose, he curls his lip.

“Youplayedwhatforwhonow?” He slides his hands into his sweatpants pockets, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. The apples of his cheeks burn, and Peter clears his throat, “Uhhhh. Okay. Thanks? That’s…sweet, I guess. But, I-I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Her smile’s kind of adorable. Especially as she rubs her neck, displaying timid hesitance. Whatever confidence she had, she must’ve maxed out on 80’s romance cliches.

“Not really? I mean, I’ve seen you around. A lot. But you’ve never really noticed me, so…”

Alrighty then. That makes this interaction even weirder. But Peter’s pulled equally weird - if not more desperate stops to win some hearts in the past. And he may or may not be guilty of the same technique she’s using now.

Give him a break, okay? So what if he took a chance on it once? Back when he was eighteen and leagues more naive. It’s a little cheesy, sure. But it’s also the story of how he lost his v-card. And not the Valentine’s kind.

Case in point, it worked for him. So, he’ll bite.

“And you thought crashin’ outside my house, blastin’ some corny song while my family’s asleep - that’s a smoother move than…oh, I dunno…just talkin’ to me?”

She shrugs again, her guilty eyes looking down at the grass. Boombox girl raises a foot, tapping the ground with the tip of her boot. God, she’s obviously so nervous. And he's not gonna lie, it's a little charming. The corners of Peter’s lips turn up in a grin.

“I thought it might get your attention. You just…you move so fast all the time. And I’m really slow when it comes to these kinds of things. You were always gone before I ever got the chance.”

“How’d you know where I live?” Peter throws her a nod of his head, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek.

Pulling her hand from her pocket, she fixes her attention on the plastic case of a cassette tape.

“My uncle tried to arrest you once.” She grins, “He was out on patrol. Saw you steal a speed limit sign. Your mom paid him to let you off the hook.”

Peter’s brows fly up under his bangs. His cheeky smile spreads into his dimples.

“Your unc-...seriously? Whoa. No kiddin’?” He laughs, “Wish I could say I remember. But that sorta thing used to happen to me all the time.”

Not like he wasn’t asking for it back then. But to be fair, Peter’s made some drastic improvements. When it comes to his klepto compulsions, anyway. Excluding the influx of junk food and Garbage Pail Kid cards he snags on a daily basis. From nation-wide chain stores. Totally ethical.

“Yeah, I know.” She giggles, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. This way, he actually gets a good look at her. Soft lips. Pretty eyes, “You used to be the talk of the station, where he worked. Those guys never shut up about you.”

Reaching forward, she passes Peter the cassette in her hand.

“What’s this?” He gently takes it, inspecting the hand-made label inside the case. Decorated in little, lightning bolt doodles. Even some hearts. Aw. Cute. Scratched across it in messy handwriting, are the words - For the kleptomaniac. In exchange for my heart. You stole it forever ago.

Come on. Could she be any more corny?

“It’s a mixtape.” She bites her lip like she’s terrified to keep talking, “It’s cool if you don’t listen to it. I dunno if you’ll even like what’s on it. But I know you carry around that Walkman all the time.”

Uh huh. Did her uncle tell her that too? Get outta here.

“Does it have Heart on it?” Peter flips the case over in his hand, pursing his lips.

“Of course it has Heart on it.”

“Awww. Givin’ me Heart for your heart.” He snickers, turning pinker in his cheeks, “This is legit the cheesiest thing a girl’s ever done for me. I’m kinda buggin’ out right now.”

“Oh yeah? I mean, I can always take it back, if you-” She teases, like she thinks he’s being sarcastic.

She reaches for the tape. But as her fingers brush the case, Peter raises it above his head. The motion happens quickly, before she can even keep up. Boombox girl wasn’t foolin’. She is slow. Slower than a turtle on tranquilizers. As she makes another attempt, Peter drops his hand in a speedy blur.

“Hey, hey, hey. Nuh uh. No takesie-backsies.” He teases, waving a finger, “A trades a trade, babe.”

Her hands rest at her hips, and she flutters her long lashes. So shamelessly flirtatious, but still not enough to win him over. Not just yet. Even if her bedroom eyes offer a tempting invite. Like, seriously, so tempting.

Mama didn't raise him like that, though. Peter has somewhat of a delinquent track record, sure. But he's still a good hearted gentleman. He'll take her out on a few dates first. Treat her to a little arcade romance, before he tries some no pants dancing.

If she's not playing him for a complete jackass, that is. Really, it’s almost too good to be true.

No chick has ever pined for him this hard in his life. And Peter’s never had the chance to play hard to get. He bets dollars to donuts, boombox babe probably isn't a mutie either. Talk about some major role reversal. How often does a human girl beg and plead for mutant man's love? She knows he's a total shut in, right? Or did her uncle not fill her in on that?

“You still have my heart, though.” She coos, gazing at Peter with those eyes.

Those - embrace me, o’ speedster man of my dreams - eyes.

Yeah. Her uncle most definitely didn't break the news. Peter hisses, teasing her again with a click of his teeth.

“Ooooh. Yeah. Well, finders keepers. Good luck shakin’ that silver lovebug.”

He flirts back and forth with her naturally. Kinda like high school sweethearts. It goes on for a few more minutes. Until he's pestered her enough, she just up and quits. Her car's parked down the street. A Volkswagen bug. Hah. And there she goes. Peter's secret admirer stomps off. Boombox swinging at her side. A wave of guilt almost pulls him under, and Peter starts to regret teasing her so much.

She laughs as she walks away. And the call of her giggle brings him back to the surface, much like a song. Seems like the sirens really did come out tonight.

So, she likes playing games too, huh?

You don’t know how long I have waited

And I was going to tell you tonight

Peter’s not even that much of a Heart fan.

He looks down at the cassette case in his hands. Rolling a thumb over a scratch in the plastic. A beat passes. In a flash, he appears in front of her. Peter walks backwards, padding barefoot along the side of the road.

“So, are you gonna ask me out ‘er what? C'mon, don't be chicken shit. I know you got it in you!” He jokes.

Boombox girl giggles so hard, she breaks out in dorky snorts. Ah, the sexiest, siren song. Too bad that's not a track on the mixtape. He’s willing to slip her some loose change for a raw recording.

By happenstance, another car slows to a stop. Right in the middle of the empty neighborhood street. Colored a familiar shade of scarlet, the vehicle looms for a beat or two. Peter comes to halt, watching as the passenger side window rolls down. Boombox girl crashes right into him.

Shit. Peter just now realized, he doesn't know her name yet.

He grabs her hips on instinct, catching her in case she falls over or something. Her free hand clutches his arm, right over the ‘mom’ tattoo etched into his skin. Naturally, Peter radiates enough warmth to act as a heater. He’s a godsend on cold, lonesome nights. Boombox girl presses her body closer to his, seeking his heat.

Peter knows she does it without thinking, since she whimpers a soft, “ Oh god. I’m so sorry. ”

“It’s cool. You okay?” Peter’s hands linger on her hips.

“What’s going on over there?” Wanda grills playfully from her car. She flits her eyes between her doofus brother, and boombox girl. When Wanda purses her lips, she does so in a way identical to Peter, “Is he giving you any trouble?” She asks what's-her-name.

Peter zips to the passenger side door, crossing his arms over it. Leaning against Wanda’s car through the window, he makes a pfffbbbbtt noise.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Wands. I’m just walkin’ my future wife to her car.” He raises one of his hands, waving the cassette case, “Check it out, ah? She made me a mixtape! Cute, right?”

Wanda’s knits her brows as she tilts her head. The long, scarlet locks of her hair bounce with the motion. At the side of the road, boombox girl makes an adorable squeal. She covers her blistering face with her hands, mewling silent pleas.

“Oh my god stop. I’m sorry I even said anything. Oh my god. ” What's-her-name whimpers.

Which really isn’t helping the whole suspicious sister situation. Wanda leans back in her seat, peering over Peter’s shoulder at boombox girl. Narrowing her eyes, Wanda looks back at him. And before she can call Peter out on his bullshit, he lowers his arms from the door. Peter drops his chin to it, his tapioca eyes gazing up at Wanda innocently.

He chews his lip. In that ‘ I’m obviously up to no good’ kind of way.

“Y’wanna know what that cutie over there told me?” He purrs, talking loud enough for what’s-her-name to hear, "She said I stole her-"

Boombox girl shrieks, “MAXIMOFF! Please! That was a secret! I’m serious! You’re killing me here, dude!”

Maximoff?

Ohhhhh. She doesn’t actually know his name. Seriously? Didn’t what's-her-name say she’s pined after Peter for a while now? How long is a while? Long enough to know his address, apparently. And to know he likes listening to his tunes. And to know he’s a mutant with a rep for thieving. But not long enough for anyone to drop his name? Did the feds never bother learning it? Ouch. Figures.

“Piet.” Wanda leers at Peter, holding him at gunpoint with her eyes, “Leave that poor girl alone. Look at her! She’s had enough.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter stands up straight. Lazily, he smirks, waving a hand, signaling Wanda to drive off.

“Naaaah! You shoulda seen her back at the house. She’s hopelessly in love with me. Played songs outside my window. Y'know, like they do in the movies? I’m serious! You can ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Once more, Wanda shifts her skeptical gaze to what’s-her-name. The mystery girl carries her boombox to her car. With her head dipped and a free hand over her face. She looks like she’s doing the walk of shame. As if Peter stole a little something else from her and-w hoops. That's also not helping his case at all. Wanda hums, doubtful of Peter’s unlikely story.

He cheeses a toothy grin, looking guilty.

“Really?” Wanda adjusts in her seat, reaching for the radio dial, “Well, you might wanna tell her goodnight. For a girl who’s totally in love with you , she seems in a heck of a hurry to leave.”

And with that, Wanda drives off. Peter stumbles back, his calloused heels scuffing concrete. Wanda’s car rolls all the way down the road and into the driveway. Whipping around, Peter catches what’s-her-name opening the trunk of her love bug. As she lifts the boombox into it, Peter zips up next to her. Latching his arms around the boombox, he gives her an aloof grin.

“Can I borrow this for a sec? Thanks, cutie.” He throws her a wink.

She doesn’t get the chance to ask why. Peter zips back to his spot on the side of the road, clicking a button on the boombox. He raises it over his head, letting Heart roar obnoxiously across the neighborhood. Disrupting the late night peace. Out the corner of his eye, Peter notices a few neighborhood lights come on. The song plays just as Wanda hops out of her car. She stops in the middle of her stride to the front door. Her bags hang from her arms and her keys dangle on her finger.

Wanda squints, eyebrows turned inward.

How do I get you alone?

How do I get you alone?

“I TOLD YOU! SHE’S TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH ME!” Peter yells.

A faint, red glow emanates from Wanda’s hand, as she delicately swipes it in the air. The boombox’s tape player pops open with an click, and Peter lowers the box down in front of him. He playfully pouts, muttering a soft booooooo to himself. Abrupt silence fills the entire neighborhood again, save for the local dogs barking in their yards.

“Say goodnight, Pietro.” Wanda’s voice calls from the driveway, before she disappears into the house.

Peter doesn’t even realize what’s-her-name is standing next to him, until she speaks.

“Pietro’s a beautiful name.”

Peter snickers, feeling heat rise in his cheeks again. Popping open the case she gave him, he swaps the tape for the one in the boombox. Rapidly clicking the volume button, Peter huffs a soft laugh, hooded eyes blinking.

"Thanks. I'd say the same about yours, but I don't even know it." He teases. A little shy, Peter keeps his eyes on the boombox, "I go by Peter, actually."

"Peter. Pietro. Whatever your name is, you embarrassed the shit outta me, man." What's-her-name scoffs. Peter kinda likes the sound of both names in her voice, "You're lucky you're gorgeous."

Gorgeous? Whoa. That's a helluva word. Shit, this really is too good to be true. Peter's heart skips another beat, and he shakes his head. "Y'know, if you still what your heart back, you're shit outta luck, babe." Peter clicks the play button on the boombox, only after some tension heavy beats pass, "Like I said, finders kee-"

An all too familiar melody pours from the boombox speakers, softer now.

I hear the ticking of the clock

I’m lying here the room’s pitch dark

“Seriously?” Peter laughs, slinging an arm over boombox girl's shoulders.

“Yeah, seriously. I told you it had Heart.” She blushes profusely, averting her innocent gaze.

Maybe there really is something to these 80's romance cliches. Peter's almost willing to give up his own heart. Just as compensation for hers.

[marvelobsessed134]

Masterlist #1

This is my first masterlist. Second masterlist is on the pinned post in my profile

How to request, guidelines etc.

Marvel Women

Kate Bishop

Rizz You Up

Kinktober day two: Ghostface!Kate

Kinktober day eight: overstimulation

Natasha Romanoff

Caught

Little skirt

Package delivered

Watching you

Young, and dumb

Need help

GP!Beefy!Nat wakes up to you riding her abs (Drabble)

Captivity (My pretty little mermaid)

Dirty thoughts

Sundresses and breeding kinks

Wanda Maximoff

Control

Best friends sister

Julia Cornwall

In her web

Marvel Men

Bucky Barnes

Honeymoon Suite

Meet Cute

“Want me to suck your cock while driving?”

The one with the slutty maid and the sexually frustrated super soldier

Love me tender series

Steve Rogers

Sam Wilson

Peter Parker

Tony Stark

Mötley Crüe

Nikki Sixx

I’m only me when I’m with you

Don’t be shy, honey

Streamer!Reader headcannons

Behind closed doors

Good girl

Small town romance

Who do you belong to?

You shouldn’t be doing that…

Sneaking around

Kinktober day eleven: public sex

BDSM head cannons

Somebody’s watching me

Better? Better.

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Tommy Lee

Midnight Comfort

Teenagers In Love

Runaway bride

Can we keep him!?

Friends help each other

Go team

Maroon

Little drummer girl

Sparks Fly series

Pretty When You Sleep

Plus One

Kinktober day nine: manhandling/tights ripping

Halloween party shenanigans

Attention you deserve

Surprise

Delicate flower series

First time

BDSM head cannons

It’s gonna be okay

Vince Neil

Thunderstorms

Sweet dreams

Please

It’s the little moments

Shades Of Cool

Our honeymoon (part one) part two

Kinktober day one: daddy kink

Plaything

She’s a riot grrrl

Mick Mars

Mermaid Motel

Streamer!reader headcannons

You know you want it

Kinktober day four: pet play

Multi-members

Two is better than one

Halloween/fall headcannons

Groupie Love (Gang Bang)

Cinderella (only writing for Tom and Eric)

Tom Keifer

Did you do that to her?

Up behind her with a pool stick

BDSM headcannons

“What is it, honey?”

Tom finding out you’re pregnant

Eric Brittingham

A pleasant surprise

Kiss (only writing for Paul, Tommy, and Gene)

Paul Stanley

I can see you

Underneath the surface

I fall to pieces when I’m with you

Prank call gone wrong

Teach you how

Tommy Thayer

You’re enough

One bed?!

Gene Simmons

Kinktober day 6: possessiveness

Guns N Roses

Izzy Stradlin

Kinktober day 5: handcuffs

Kinktober day 7: crying kink

Slash

Kinktober day 10: vouyerism

Barbie The Movie

Barbie

Starting to really like the real world

You can be the boss (STRLTRW part two, series masterlist coming soon)

CEO!Barbie AU masterlist

Marvel Cast/other celebrities

Sebastian Stan

Put me in a movie

W.A.S.P. (Only writing for Blackie)

Kinktober day 3: humiliation

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Domesticated

Daisy Jones and The Six

Daisy Jones

Her good slut

G!P Daisy x Stripper!Reader

LA Guns (Only Kelly atm)

Mistaken

Cindy Crawford

Picnics

Joan Jett

Our secret moments

[colinzabelswife]

Songs That Remind Me of Evan Peters Characters Pt.3

Peter Maximoff:

Colin Zabel:

Stan Bowes:

[demontonic]

Masterlist

You can always make requests!

Key: Angst🩶 Fluff🤍 Smut🖤 TW💜 Upcoming…

Star Wars

Anakin Skywalker

Old Friends🩶🤍

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Headcanons🤍

Padame Amidala

Luke Skywalker

Blondie…

Leia Organa

Han Solo

Darth Vader

The apprentice…

Kylo Ren

Would you?🤍

best padawan…

Poe Dameron

Marvel

Steve Roggers

Bucky Barnes

Silver eyes…

Tony Stark

Bruce Banner

Thor Odinson

Loki Laufeyson

blurb🖤

Natasha Romanoff

Mothers Know Best🩶🤍

What a woman…

Wanda Maximoff

Mothers Know Best🩶🤍

Pietro Maximoff

low and slow…

Peter Parker (TASM)

Pretty Boy🤍🖤

Peter Parker (MCU)

Miguel O’Hara

Moonknight

Mortal Kombat

(MK1: 🕷️ 2021 live action: 🕸️)

Liu Kang

God above…

Kung Lao

Raiden

Bi-Han (Sub-Zero)

Kuai Liang (Scorpion)

Kenshi Takahashi

Syzoth

Shang Tsung

Queen Sindel

Kitana

Mileena

Misc.

Ethan Landry

Perverted 1 - 2 - 3🤍🖤💜

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Thoughts🤍🖤💜

Charlie Walker

Headcanons🤍🖤

Cillian Murphy

Thomas Shelby

Dave Lizewski (kickass)

Sam Monroe

sweet dreams…

Rory Culkin

Hayden Christensen

The first time pt2🤍

Eddie Munson🤍🖤

[shiftingwithmars]

Marvel DR

The Basics

Timeline: Civil War-Infinity War

Current AI’s: Friday, Xero, Vision

HQ: Stark Tower + Avengers compound

HQ Residents, Full Time: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Vision, Wanda Maximoff

HQ Residents, Part Time: Tony Stark, Jaden Stark, Peter Parker, Thor Odinson, Maria Hill, Clint Barton, James Rhodey, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes

The Girl

Name: Jaden Reid Stark

Nickname: Jade, Jay,

Age: 16

Birthday: December 8th

Gender: Gender-fluid, fem presenting

Pronouns: He/They preferred but any are fine. Mostly called She/Her.

Sexuality: Aroace

Birthplace: Undecided

Current Residence: Avengers compound

Species: Human

Ethnicity: European

Race: White

Nationality: American

Known Languages: English, Russian, Latin, Greek, Spanish, Sokavian,

Voice: Undecided

Signature Scent: Vanilla, Japanese Cherry Blossoms

The Boy

Name: Mattheo Riddle

Nicknames: Matt, Matty, Teo

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Species: Human

known languages: English, Spanish

Backstory: Undecided

Hero name: Undecided

Powers: Marksmanship, Improved Reflexes, Enhanced strength, Enhanced speed, Enhanced agility, Enhanced durability, Enhanced stamina, Enhanced regenerative healing, Enhanced memory

Mattheo’s relationship with me: He’s a clingy bitch. Needs to be around me as much as he can. But he also worries whenever I go on missions. Showers me with love. Don’t worry, I’m just as loving towards him. He can be a little toxic and closed-off, but that’s understandable considering his past. Either way, we’re working on it together, and we’re making progress.

The Powers

Powers

Superhuman Strength

Superhuman speed

Superhuman agility

Superhuman durability

Superhuman Stamina

Superhuman Reflexes

Above-normal healing factor

Healing

Pathokinesis

Telepathy

Mental manipulation

Illusion manipulation

Energy manipulation

Sonokinesis

Electrokinesis

Sonic scream

Nightmare infliction

Dream manipulation

Hallucination inducement/manipulation

Hypnosis:

Memory manipulation

Magic

Crystal generation/manipulation

Ability absorption

Force Field generation/manipulation

Necromancy

Power mimicry

The Parents

Names: Tony Stark and Pepper Potts

Tony’s relationship with me: He loves me, even it’s hard for him to show it sometimes. He tries his best to shower me with gifts and random trips. He just wants the best for me, but it’s hard to keep your daughter safe when she’s the most vital part of The Avengers. Oh, and he hates my boyfriend. To a certain point, at least.

Pepper’s relationship with me: Sweet, loving mom. She thinks I take after my dad too much, but she still loves me despite how reckless I can be. She enjoys every moment we have together. Oh, and she loves my boyfriend. She thinks he’s really sweet.

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Guess who finished part 18 👀👀👀

[luaalz]

Milliseconds before history is made

[mintyys-blog]

FANGIRL 11— pietro maximoff x dark! reader

SERIES LIST

As the weeks went by, things between Y/N and Pietro began to settle into a routine. They went on dates, spent nights in each other’s arms, and slowly started building a foundation for something more. The tension that had once plagued their relationship seemed to dissipate, replaced by a comfort that neither of them had expected.

Their relationship didn’t go unnoticed. Everywhere they went, it seemed like people were watching. The paparazzi were quick to snap photos of them, capturing moments—whether it was them sharing a kiss outside a café, holding hands as they walked down the street, or simply laughing together during a quiet night out. And the public’s fascination with their relationship quickly turned into full-blown media coverage.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile every time she saw a headline or an article featuring her and Pietro. It wasn’t just that they were together—no, it was the fact that people were envious of her. They were jealous of the way he looked at her, the way he’d hold her close, the moments they shared that were now splashed across magazine covers and social media feeds.

Her phone buzzed incessantly with notifications—tweets, Instagram comments, and direct messages from girls she didn’t even know. The comments ranged from sweet to envious to outright jealous. Girls complimented her, praised her beauty, and admitted they would trade places with her in a heartbeat if they could.

“I can’t believe she’s with Pietro. I swear, they are the perfect couple 😩💔,” one comment read.

Another one: “How does she get so lucky? Ugh, I would do anything to be in her shoes.”

Y/N chuckled softly as she scrolled through the comments, her fingers moving faster than they should as she indulged in the praise. The attention felt intoxicating. It was flattering, thrilling even, to know that she had something that others wanted. Pietro was hers, and that was a fact now. No more games. No more uncertainty.

At night, she found herself lying in bed, her phone in hand, scrolling through her social media feed. She was always curious about what people had to say about her—how they felt about her relationship with Pietro. Every comment, every mention of her name made her feel a sense of validation she hadn’t even known she craved.

She smiled to herself when she came across a post of a picture from one of their recent dates. They were sitting at a table, their hands intertwined, the camera capturing the tender moment between them. Beneath it, a fan had commented, “Y/N is literally living my dream. I wish I could be her 😭😭.”

She felt a twisted sense of satisfaction wash over her, her chest puffing up with pride. She loved the attention. She loved knowing that other girls envied her for once. It was a feeling she hadn’t known she needed until now.

But it wasn’t just the comments that gave her a rush. It was the fact that he—Pietro—was still by her side. He was still hers. And every kiss, every whispered word of affection was another confirmation that they had something real.

But in the back of her mind, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder—how long would this last? Would the media’s obsession with their relationship eventually get to him? Would the pressure of always being in the spotlight wear him down? Or worse—would he get bored?

Still, for now, she pushed those thoughts aside. Tonight was about them, about enjoying what they had. And as she ran her fingers over the latest comments, she couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face.

“Y/N and Pietro, the couple goals,” one comment read.

Her heart swelled.

Yes. They were. And no one could take that away from her.

Despite the whirlwind of her relationship with Pietro, Y/N still made time to hang out with her old friends—Ned, MJ, and Peter. She valued those friendships, and no matter how much her life had changed, she knew that their bond was one of the few things in her life that remained constant.

They met up at the usual spot, a small café on the corner of their street that had become their regular hangout since high school. It was the kind of place that was easy to slip into, quiet enough for long talks but lively enough to feel like you were part of something. The conversations with them were always a refreshing break from the media chaos surrounding her and Pietro.

That afternoon, Peter sat across from her, his brow furrowed as he poked at his food. “So,” he started, glancing between her and MJ, “what’s going on with you and… you know, Speedster Guy?”

Y/N chuckled, taking a sip of her coffee, the warmth of it settling into her chest. “You mean Pietro?” she asked playfully, leaning back in her chair. “We’re good, Peter. Things are… going well.”

MJ raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing but laced with genuine curiosity. “Is it weird for you, though? The whole relationship being out there for everyone to see? I mean, you’re kind of a thing now. Everyone’s talking about you two.”

Y/N smiled but kept her gaze steady. “At first, yeah, it felt a little strange. I wasn’t used to all the attention, but it’s honestly not as bad as I thought. It feels… good, actually. It’s nice to be seen with someone who actually gets me.”

Ned leaned in with a grin. “And you two are, like, official now? No more casual stuff?”

“Official in some sense,” Y/N said with a shrug. “I guess we’re more than just casual now, but there’s still a lot to figure out. We’re both learning as we go.”

Peter gave a small nod, still eyeing her carefully. “I get it. Just… you know, be careful with him, Y/N. He’s not exactly known for being the relationship type.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for a moment, her heart tightening slightly at Peter’s words. She pushed the feeling down, not wanting to overthink it. “I can handle it, Pete,” she said softly. “Besides, I think… I think I know what I’m doing.”

MJ shot Peter a knowing look before turning back to Y/N, her voice softer now. “Well, as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters, right? Just don’t forget about us little people when you’re, you know, living your life as Pietro’s girlfriend.”

Y/N laughed, nudging MJ lightly with her elbow. “You guys are my family. I haven’t forgotten you. Ever.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, the noise of the café seemed to fade into the background. Y/N felt a wave of warmth sweep over her as she realized just how much she valued these moments—the quiet ones, the ones where she wasn’t under the scrutiny of the paparazzi, just her and her friends.

As the conversation drifted onto other topics, Y/N allowed herself to forget about the drama surrounding her and Pietro for just a little while. She laughed at Peter’s awkward attempts to flirt with MJ, listened intently as Ned shared his latest tech ideas, and joked about her and MJ’s favorite guilty pleasure TV show.

But even as the laughter filled the air, part of her was still thinking about him—the way Pietro’s lips felt on hers, the way he made her feel alive in ways she couldn’t fully explain. She couldn’t help it. Every time she saw him, every moment they spent together, she found herself more and more enmeshed in him, in them.

Still, for now, she was content in this moment—surrounded by the people who had known her before all the fame, before the whirlwind romance, before Pietro became such a significant part of her life. In this quiet café, with the familiar hum of life around her, she could pretend for a little while that things hadn’t changed.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The underground club was pulsing with energy as Y/N and Pietro made their way through the crowd, the heavy bass vibrating in their chests. The walls were adorned with flashing lights, and the air smelled of sweat, perfume, and the distinct scent of alcohol. It was the kind of place that felt alive with secrets, a haven for famous people who wanted to let go without the eyes of the world watching.

Y/N was already feeling the buzz of the drinks she’d been sipping on, a feeling that only intensified when she joined some new friends on the dance floor. Her body moved to the beat, her laughter filling the space between her and the crowd. She was lost in the music, in the fun, and for a brief moment, everything felt light and carefree.

As she spun around, the world blurring in a mix of colors and lights, she caught a glimpse of Pietro across the room. He stood near the bar, but there was a girl too close to him, her fingers lightly grazing his arm as she leaned in to talk to him. Y/N’s stomach tightened, the light buzz of alcohol turning sour.

She tried to ignore it, but her eyes kept drifting back to him. The girl was touching his collar now, leaning in with a look in her eyes that Y/N knew too well—a flirtatious glint, one that made her blood run hot. Pietro didn’t seem to be into it, his body posture stiff, but he couldn’t seem to find her in the crowd.

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest as she watched the girl get bolder, tugging at his collar and pulling him closer. She could see his eyes scan the room, searching for her—his girlfriend—looking for a way out of the girl’s grasp. But it was too late. The girl pulled him in for a kiss, her lips finding his in a way that made Y/N’s vision turn red.

Her blood boiled. She felt it all in an instant—the anger, the jealousy, the ache of being ignored while some other girl played her part in his attention. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Without thinking, she marched toward them, her steps deliberate and fast. She reached them just as the girl’s lips met his. Without hesitation, she grabbed the girl’s hair, yanking her away from Pietro with a ferocity she hadn’t known she was capable of. The girl yelped, her eyes wide with shock as she fell to the floor, scrambling to get away from the grip Y/N had on her.

Pietro barely had time to react. He immediately stepped forward, his hands coming around Y/N’s waist as he lifted her off the ground, his voice low with a dangerous edge. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his grip tight around her.

Y/N’s chest was rising and falling with ragged breaths, her hands still clenched into fists as she glared at the girl who had dared to touch him. “She had no right,” Y/N snapped, her words sharp with hurt and anger. “She was all over you like she owned you.”

Pietro’s eyes softened for a moment, his gaze flickering from her face to the girl still on the floor, now scrambling to stand up and back off. He could see the storm in Y/N’s eyes, the same fire that had always burned within her, but this time it was different—it was fueled by something deeper, something more personal.

He didn’t argue, though. Instead, he turned, guiding Y/N away from the scene, his steps purposeful as he pulled her through the crowd. “Come on,” he muttered, leading her to a more secluded part of the club, where the music wasn’t so deafening, and the crowd felt distant.

Once they were alone, he turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “Are you okay?”

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, still fuming. “Am I okay?” she repeated incredulously. “I don’t know, Pietro. Am I okay?” Her voice was shaky, a mixture of frustration and hurt clouding her thoughts. “You let her kiss you. You let her touch you like that. And you just stood there.”

Pietro took a step closer, reaching out to her, but she took a step back, her eyes hard. His fingers clenched at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. He could see that there was more to this than the girl, more to it than just a kiss. There was a deeper wound here, one that had been festering.

“I didn’t want that to happen,” he said quietly, the words laced with sincerity. “But I can’t control what other people do. I was looking for you, Y/N. You were having fun, and I thought you didn’t want me there.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as the reality of his words sank in. It was true—she had been off dancing with her new friends, and he had been alone with the girl for too long. She had wanted to have fun, too, but the moment she saw that girl with him, it felt like her world came crashing down.

“I wanted you there, Pietro,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “But I don’t know what we are. I don’t know where we stand anymore. I don’t want to feel like I’m competing for your attention.”

Pietro’s gaze softened, his hand reaching for her once more. This time, she didn’t pull away. He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek, his voice quieter than before.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for you to feel that way. I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

Her eyes softened at his words, her anger melting into something else—vulnerability. She hadn’t meant for this to escalate, but her feelings were so tangled up in him, in their complicated, messy relationship. It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this, but it did.

“Then show me,” she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. “Show me that I’m the one who matters. Show me that I’m not just the girl who gets jealous over some random girl at the club.”

Pietro’s lips pressed against her forehead, a soft kiss that lingered there for a moment. “I’ll show you,” he promised, pulling her closer. “I swear, I’ll show you.”

They stood there, in the dimly lit corner of the club, the world still spinning around them, but for a moment, everything felt still.

Pietro held Y/N close, his fingers still curled around her waist, keeping her against him as the energy of the club pulsed in the background. His heart was still racing—not just from the scene she had caused, but from the rawness in her voice, the desperate need behind her words. He knew she meant it.

She needed to see it.

He brushed a hand through his silver hair, exhaling as he studied her face, the intensity in her eyes still burning. “You want me to prove it?” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, the heat between them shifting.

“Yes,” she whispered, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “I want to be the only one.”

His lips parted, his mind cycling through the storm of emotions between them. She already is, he wanted to say. She had been for a while now, whether he had admitted it or not.

Instead, he leaned in, catching her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t frantic—it was deliberate. A promise. His hands slipped down her back, pulling her flush against him as the music of the club faded into nothing.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling, he rested his forehead against hers. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice rough. “Just us.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers tightening around his as they slipped through the crowd. She didn’t even spare the girl from earlier another glance. Pietro’s attention was hers now.

By the time they reached the outside air, Y/N’s head was still spinning—not from the alcohol, but from the way Pietro’s grip never loosened from hers, the way he kept her close as if anchoring her to him.

They caught a cab back to the tower, the ride filled with quiet tension, neither of them speaking much, just stealing glances at one another. Y/N’s mind was racing—was this really happening? Was he finally choosing her?

When they stepped out of the elevator, she expected him to walk her to her room and leave it at that. But instead, he didn’t let go of her hand. He led her into his room instead.

The moment the door shut behind them, she was in his arms again. This time, the kiss was needy, urgent, filled with all the words neither of them could say. His fingers tangled in her hair, hers grasping at his shirt like she was afraid to let go.

Pietro pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, his chest rising and falling. “You want proof?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing.

Y/N swallowed hard, nodding.

A slow smirk curved his lips. “Then let me show you.”

—

The next morning, sunlight spilled through the curtains, casting a soft glow over tangled sheets and intertwined limbs. Y/N stirred, blinking against the light before realizing where she was.

Pietro was still asleep beside her, his bare chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, his arm draped lazily over her waist. He looked peaceful, the tension from last night absent from his features.

Y/N turned onto her side, watching him for a moment. Her fingers traced absent patterns over his skin, her heart full.

She had wanted this for so long—to wake up next to him, to feel his warmth and know she wasn’t just another passing fling.

Y/N sat at the vanity in Pietro’s room, carefully applying her makeup as the soft morning light streamed through the curtains. The night before played on repeat in her head—his hands on her, the way he kissed her like he meant it, like she was the only person in the world. She wanted to bask in the afterglow forever.

Her eyes flickered to the trash bin near the dresser. The empty blister pack of her birth control sat at the top, the last pill taken that morning.

She knew she should go to the pharmacy today, pick up a refill. That’s what she’d always done. But instead, she just stared at the packaging, fingers tightening slightly around the makeup brush in her hand.

She had no plans to get another pack.

Pietro didn’t want to put a label on them at first. He resisted commitment, clung to his freedom like it was something fragile. But now? Now, he had finally given in, given her what she wanted.

Still… she couldn’t shake the fear that he might change his mind again. That he might wake up one day and decide he was done, that he wanted fun again instead of her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of excitement and nerves settling deep in her stomach.

If she got pregnant, he’d have no choice but to stay.

She bit her lip, eyes darting to where Pietro still lay sprawled across the bed, sleeping peacefully. He had no idea the depth of her obsession, how badly she needed him. He thought this was normal, that their love was like any other. But he was hers. Only hers. And now? Now, she was going to make sure of it.

Later that day, Pietro stretched lazily on the couch, flipping through his phone while Y/N walked into the apartment, holding up a small paper bag.

“Got my refill,” she said with a smile, setting it down on the counter.

Pietro barely looked up, too focused on whatever video he was watching. “Good,” he murmured, distracted. “Wouldn’t want any little speedsters running around yet, huh?”

Her stomach twisted, but she kept her smile in place, walking over and leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Of course not,” she lied smoothly, fingers brushing through his silver hair.

She had thrown the old prescription bag in the trash outside before coming back. There were no new pills inside. There never would be.

Instead, she settled beside him, curling into his side as he wrapped an arm around her. He didn’t suspect a thing.

And he never would.

The days passed as if nothing had changed. Y/N kept up her usual routine, acting as though she was still taking her birth control pills. Every morning, she would go to the bathroom, open the medicine cabinet, and linger just long enough to make it look convincing. She’d even rattle the empty pack for good measure before tossing it back inside.

Pietro never questioned it. He trusted her.

That trust made her chest tighten, but she ignored it, focusing instead on what this meant—what this could lead to.

She imagined it constantly. The moment she’d tell him. The way his face would shift, shock melting into something softer, something more permanent. He loved her. He had to. He just didn’t realize it yet.

This would change everything.

She wasn’t stupid—she knew it wouldn’t happen right away. But that was fine. She was patient. She had always been patient when it came to Pietro.

And when the time came, when he inevitably found out, he would have no choice but to stay. To be with her.

Because there was no running from something like this. Not even for him.

The afternoon was slow, easy, just the way she liked it. Pietro had the day off, and instead of going out, they stayed in, moving around each other in the kitchen like they had done it a thousand times before.

She chopped vegetables while he stirred the sauce, occasionally sneaking bites when he thought she wasn’t looking. She swatted at his arm with the wooden spoon, and he only grinned, pressing a playful kiss to her temple in return.

“This is nice,” she murmured, watching as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, that easy smirk on his lips.

“What is?”

“This,” she gestured vaguely, setting the knife down. “Us. Doing normal, domestic things. It makes me think about the future.”

Pietro arched a brow, curiosity flickering in his expression. “The future, huh?”

She hummed, turning back to the food. “Yeah, like… where we’ll be in a few years. Marriage, kids, all of it.”

The silence that followed was short, but it was enough.

She saw it—felt it—before he even spoke.

The way his muscles tensed just slightly, how he exhaled through his nose, his smirk dimming at the edges. Then, just as quickly, he forced out a small laugh, stepping behind her and pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck.

“We got years to think about that,” he murmured against her skin, voice smooth, dismissive. “So let’s leave it alone for now.”

Y/N forced a smile, nodding as if she agreed.

But something in her chest twisted. For now. She knew what that meant. He wasn’t ready.

Pietro lay sprawled across Wanda’s bed, idly tossing a remote into the air and catching it over and over. His mind was racing, but his mouth struggled to form the words. Wanda sat at her vanity, running a brush through her long hair, calm as ever.

He hesitated before speaking. “Wanda, Y/N and I… I—I think we’re going too fast.”

She didn’t pause, didn’t even glance his way. Instead, she smirked at their reflection in the mirror. “I thought you liked things fast?”

Pietro exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Not like this.” He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. “One minute we’re just having fun, and now she’s talking about marriage and babies.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “It’s a lot, you know?”

Wanda finally turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “Do you not want that?”

Pietro opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I mean, maybe? One day? But I don’t even know what I’m doing next week, let alone the rest of my life.”

Wanda leaned back against the vanity, folding her arms. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “I have no idea.”

She arched a brow. “Have you told her how you feel?”

Pietro sighed. “Not exactly.”

Wanda clicked her tongue, unimpressed. “Then you need to. Before this gets out of hand.”

Pietro frowned, her words settling uncomfortably in his chest. The thing was, Y/N made him happy. She was intoxicating, addictive. But this was starting to feel like something bigger than him, something he wasn’t sure he could handle.

And yet, the thought of letting her go didn’t sit right either.

Pietro had always been good at brushing off attention—smirking through the admiration, dodging advances with a well-placed joke or a quick step to the side. But lately, he hadn’t been as quick.

Maybe it was because Y/N was starting to talk about the future in ways that made his chest tighten. Maybe it was because part of him wasn’t sure if he was ready for all of this, despite how much he cared for her.

So when a group of girls rushed up to him outside a café, gushing over him, asking for photos, he didn’t step away as quickly as he normally would. One girl was bolder than the rest, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek before rushing off, giggling with her friends. Pietro ran a hand down his face, sighing. He knew how that would look, and sure enough, within an hour, the photo was everywhere.

Y/N had seen it.

Her blood boiled, but she forced herself to be calm. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened—Pietro was famous, desirable. She knew that. But he was hers. And yet, he was letting other women touch him.

Still, when she saw him later that night, she didn’t lash out. She didn’t show her anger. Instead, she smiled, greeted him with a kiss, and curled into his side like nothing had happened.

Pietro, however, felt it. The way her touch lingered just a second too long. The way her fingers grazed the spot where the girl’s lips had been, almost as if claiming it for herself.

It should have reassured him. Instead, it made something uneasy stir in his chest.

Y/N never used to consider herself the jealous type, but with every passing day, the feeling grew like a sickness inside her. It wasn’t just the fans, the photos, or the way women threw themselves at him—it was the way Pietro let it happen. He never encouraged them, not exactly, but he didn’t stop them fast enough either. And that was enough to set her blood on fire.

So she started checking his phone.

At first, it was just once—an innocent glance when he left it on the counter while he was in the shower. Then it became a habit. When he was asleep, when he was distracted, when he left it charging while he went to the kitchen. She wasn’t looking for anything specific. Just reassurance. Proof that he wasn’t hiding anything.

But the more she searched, the more paranoid she became.

Pietro never hid his phone from her, never acted like he had something to protect. And yet, the longer she scrolled, the more her mind twisted things. A message from some girl, just a casual exchange—was that flirting? A comment on his social media—too friendly, too familiar.

She told herself she was being careful, that she was just making sure he was loyal. But deep down, she knew the truth.

She was obsessed.

And she wasn’t sure she could stop.

Y/N knew she should stop. She told herself every time she picked up his phone, every time she scrolled through his messages, that this was the last time. But it never was.

The paranoia only grew.

Every unread notification made her stomach churn. Every new follower, every tagged photo, every girl commenting something flirty under his posts sent her spiraling. And yet, when she was with him, she acted as if nothing was wrong. She smiled, kissed him, let him wrap his arms around her like she was his whole world.

But she wasn’t.

Not yet.

One night, while Pietro was in the shower, she sat on the edge of the bed, his phone in her hands. She knew the passcode—of course, she did. Her fingers moved on instinct, unlocking the screen, scrolling through his texts.

A few new messages. One from Clint. One from Wanda. And then—one from an unknown number.

Hey, I had fun meeting you today! Hope we can talk again soon xx

Y/N’s vision blurred. Her fingers clenched the phone so tightly she thought it might crack. Who the hell was this? Where did he meet her? Why hadn’t he mentioned it?

Her heart pounded as she checked his recent calls. No call from the number, no further messages. Just that one. But that was enough.

She deleted it.

She stared at the screen for a long moment, breathing heavily, before locking the phone and setting it back on the nightstand like nothing had happened.

By the time Pietro stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips, running a hand through his damp hair, she was already under the covers, pretending to scroll through her own phone.

“Coming to bed?” she asked, voice smooth, controlled.

Pietro grinned, crawling into bed beside her. “Was gonna, but you’re already hogging all the blankets.”

She laughed, leaning in to kiss him, slipping her arms around his bare shoulders. He kissed her back, warm and lazy, completely oblivious to the war raging in her mind.

She had nothing to worry about. She just had to make sure of it.

The next few days were normal—at least on the surface. Y/N laughed when she was supposed to, kissed Pietro when he pulled her close, and acted like the perfect girlfriend. But inside, the paranoia burned.

Every time his phone buzzed, she glanced at it. Every time he left the room, she thought about checking again. But she didn’t need to—she had already started memorizing his social media, his call logs, his messages. Every interaction, every new follower, every comment.

The unknown number never texted again.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Her jealousy gnawed at her, demanding more. She found herself getting irritated at little things—how he smiled at the barista when they got coffee, how he laughed a little too hard at something Wanda said, how he kept getting approached for photos when they were out.

It didn’t help that the internet kept feeding the fire.

One morning, she woke up to another picture of Pietro and a fan making rounds online. The girl—a brunette with a short skirt and a bright smile—had her arms wrapped around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he smirked at the camera.

Y/N stared at the screen, her grip tightening on her phone.

She checked Pietro’s Instagram—he hadn’t posted the photo, which meant it was the girl. And the comments?

“God, I wish that were me.”

“I would literally sell my soul to kiss him.”

“Does he even have a girlfriend? He’s always letting girls kiss him lol.”

Her jaw clenched.

Pietro stirred beside her, mumbling something incoherent as he shifted in his sleep. Y/N forced herself to relax, smoothing out her expression before setting her phone down.

When he finally opened his eyes, blinking up at her with that lazy, sleepy smile, she greeted him with a kiss, fingers trailing over his jaw.

“You’re up early,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

“Just couldn’t sleep.” She kissed him again, slow and deep, letting her nails drag lightly down his chest. “But now that you’re awake…”

Pietro chuckled, rolling on top of her. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

She smiled. “And you love it.”

She pushed the picture out of her mind. For now.

Pietro pulled her close, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, gentle kiss. She felt his body relax into hers, his muscles melting into a languid pose. As they kissed, Pietro's hands began to roam, his fingers tracing the curves of her body. He touched her with a lazy intimacy, as if savoring the feel of her skin.

She felt her body respond, her nipples hardening, her hips arching into his touch. Pietro's lips left hers, and he nuzzled her neck, his breath hot against her skin. She felt his erection press against her thigh, and she reached down, wrapping her fingers around him.

"Ah, God," Pietro groaned, his body tensing, and then relaxing into her touch. "You're going to kill me, you know that?"

She smiled, feeling a sense of power wash over her. "I'm just getting started," she whispered, her fingers moving in a slow, sensual rhythm.

Pietro's eyes closed, and he let out a soft sigh, his body sinking into the mattress. She continued to touch him, her fingers stroking his length, feeling his pulse throb in her hand.

As she touched, Pietro's hands began to move, his fingers slipping between her legs. He touched her with a gentle reverence, his fingers stroking her folds, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She felt herself relax, her muscles melting into the mattress, as Pietro's fingers worked their magic.

"You're so wet," Pietro whispered, his voice full of wonder. "I love how your body responds to me."

She blushed, feeling a sense of shyness wash over her. But Pietro's words only seemed to increase her arousal, and she felt herself growing more and more turned on.

The room was silent, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets, and the gentle hum of Pietro's breathing. Time seemed to stretch out, the world outside receding, as she lost herself in the lazy, sensual rhythm of Pietro's touch.

Eventually, Pietro's body began to stir, his hips pressing against hers. She felt his erection nudge against her entrance, and she opened her legs, inviting him in. He slid into her, his length filling her, and she felt a sense of completion, of being exactly where she was meant to be.

"Ah, God, you feel so good," Pietro groaned, his body moving slowly against hers.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, as he thrust into her. The pace was languid, the only sound the soft slap of skin against skin. She felt herself building, her pleasure growing, as Pietro's body moved against hers.

"I love being inside you," Pietro whispered, his voice full of emotion. "You're my favorite place to be."

She smiled, feeling a sense of happiness wash over her. "I love having you inside me," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

The orgasm, when it came, was a slow, rolling wave, spreading through her body like a warm, golden light. She felt Pietro's body tense, his hips pressing against hers, as he came, his length throbbing inside her.

As the wave receded, she felt Pietro's body relax, his muscles melting into the mattress. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, as the two of them drifted off into a lazy, sated sleep.

"I love you," Pietro whispered, his voice barely audible.

She smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. "I love you too," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

As they slept, she felt a sense of peace wash over her, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be— in Pietro's arms, surrounded by his love and his passion.

[healmydesires]

blorbo tumblr wrapped thingy 💫

tumblr wrapped canva template

GOD DAMN… this was, so hard to say the least 😭 how do you limit yourself to 5 fics? INSANITY. but I’ve tried. so I decided on these:

1. Had It Up To Here by @luminoustarlight

2. 3 Is The Magic Number by @withahappyrefrain

3. I Lied by @flightlessangelwings

4. Spring Fling by @whataperfectwasteoftime

5. Soft & Sweet + Sugar & Spice by @cavillscurls

honourable mentions bc I think only picking 5 should be a crime. so buckle up!!!

starting with one of my besties! The fisherman’s wife by @joelmama <333. one thing I’m missing series by @joelscruff my beloved 🥺 I’m this series number one fan.

Rewrite the stars by @starbeltconstellation !!! it’s a ao3 fic and it’s just so amazing already, literally her number one fan!!! I’m obsessed!!! so check it out please 💘

weakness pt1 and pt2 by @joelsgreys their work is amazing! control by @pascalisbaby ,,, just everything that I needed in a smutty fic. ugh. yellow by @ilovepedro ,, just wholesome and so adorable. I just love it so much! wet dream by @bastardmandennis … wow I’m speechless just so good. thought about this fic for days !!! relaxation techniques… by @mandoblowmybackout this fic series is so amazing I’m still thinking about it at least once or twice a week… I love it sm! I just love marcus sm🥺

abby <3. your fics are out of this world, I can’t pick just one… so you’re getting another shout out @/withahappyrefrain 🥰 work from home. the heat is on. summertime and sundress. just to name a few ! 😭😭😭 like wow. amazing!!!

baby don’t make me spell it out for you by @p3mybeloved and who is the lamb and who is the knife as well and so many more others!!! 🥺 your works are just made of gold, diamonds everything beautiful and precious!

all the time in the world by @/whataperfectwasteoftime I am very much aware I’m picking another fic of yours but like everyone has already noticed, I can’t seem to pick. your works are amazing! thank u!

pussy pleaser by @fuckmyskywalker … uhm OBSESSED. wow. as fate would have it by @/luminoustarlight another gem of yours!!! love it sm <333 caramel i and ii by @stvharrngton just love it sm 🥺 just very dear to me! Peter’s angel by @blooming-violets … this fic will stay and live in my head rent free for YEARS to come. I’m so serious. literally brain rot oh my god.

I feel like I’m missing a lot more and no doubt will I feel bad for not mentioning more but oh my god…

love your works and many more! 🥰

I’m tagging <3 @queenie-official @luminoustarlight @sweetercalypso @withahappyrefrain @starbeltconstellation @stargirl-writes @st4rfckerz @maximoff-forevermore @joelmama @strang3lov3 @covetyou @jksprincess10 @anilovie @joelscruff @walkintotheriveranddisappear and anyone who would love to participate 🥰

[silverzoomies]

hello !!! i was just wondering if you think there are any other bands peter would like besides nirvana, pink floyd, and rush ?? he gives me classic rock (& just rock in general) vibes tbh !!

anon you just opened up a can of worms !!

i once did extensive research into this. way more than anyone should for a character way past his relevance. and i'm still discovering new tunes i think he'd be into all the time !! i'll try not make this long winded (it will be). but for now...

🎶👾 peter maximoff's (potential) favorite tunes 👾🎶

we already know pink floyd, rush, and nirvana are included. they're shown through the shirts he wears !!

rush is a major one. because unlike the other two, apocalypse era peter has rush all around him !! the rush posters in his basement. the leg cast with "i luv rush." it's safe to say he's kind of a rush fanboy (and he's so real for that because rush is rad as hell).

i have a list of bands/artists i can confirm he canonically likes, as they've been referenced before. whether it be through background clues (posters, background music, etc), or because they were explicitly mentioned by people involved in making the films.

🎶 yardbirds 🎶 the doors 🎶 led zeppelin 🎶 buffalo springfield 🎶 alice cooper 🎶 jim croce 🎶 neil diamond

and while we know he listens to eurythmics (sweet dreams), i don't necessarily include them as a band. just because i personally feel this has less to do with the artist, and more about whatever was mainstream in 1983 (but you can choose to include them if you want !! after all, people mostly listened to whole albums back then).

peter definitely enjoys rock overall. but he doesn't seem averse to mainstream pop either. so we can probably assume he'll listen to anything, as long as it's catchy !!

here's some bands/artists we can assume he likes based on what we already know:

🎶 jimi hendrix 🎶 cream 🎶 the beatles 🎶 fleetwood mac 🎶 queen 🎶 david bowie 🎶 tom petty 🎶 ac/dc 🎶 bon jovi 🎶 journey 🎶 guns n roses 🎶 the eagles 🎶 joan jett & the blackhearts 🎶 deff leppard 🎶 tears for fears 🎶 michael jackson

and if there's some other classics i missed (from the 60's/70's/80's) you think he might like - please feel free to drop me an ask !! i'd love to add more to the list !!

lastly, i'm gonna drop some bands/artists i personally like to think he might listen to. mostly because it's fun to imagine so:

🎶 iggy pop 🎶 bee gees 🎶 thin lizzy 🎶 toto 🎶 a flock of seagulls 🎶 elton john 🎶 u2 🎶 redbone 🎶 madonna (i 100% believe it, you can't convince me otherwise) 🎶 pearl jam 🎶 radiohead 🎶 red hot chili peppers 🎶 green day 🎶 my chemical romance 🎶 beastie boys 🎶 smash mouth 🎶 nickelback (fight me, i dare you)

if you're looking for any specific songs, there's a really awesome playlist i listen to religiously. chai_vibes's "songs peter maximoff would unironically listen to" is so peak !! and i'll go ahead and drop my own peter maximoff playlist too, just because i worked really hard on it !! lol

happy listening !! thanks for hearin' me out !!

[scottsummerslovebot]

Loki 2x04 light, light spoilers????

-

-

-

Oroborus: whoever does this needs to be super fast-

Me: omg guys this is where they grab Peter Maximoff from holding after they grabbed him from Westview at the end of Wandavision guys this is where it happens someone play sweet dreams are made of this-

[peterjackinoff]

THE SPEEDSTER BEHIND THE BLOG

I'M FINALLY MAKING AN ACTUAL INTRO

CALL ME PETER, PIETRO, OR QUICKSILVER

(i used to hate when people called me pietro but it's fresh now 🤙)

I'M A PETER MAXIMOFF INTROJECT AND I RUN THE BLOG!

MY BLOG IS A LITTLE FREAKY!! I DON'T POST PORN BUT I SAY WEIRD SHIT ON HERE SOMETIMES!!

THIS IS NOT AN INVITATION TO FLIRT WITH ME!!!!!!

MY TAG FOR POSTING AND REPOSTING IS

#PETERPOSTING

MY TAG FOR ANSWERING ASKS IS

#PETERANSWERING

HERE'S MY FACECLAIM CAUSE I'M AWESOME (i have peircings, too lazy to edit them on)

I'M BODILY 16 YEARS OLD SO BE NORMAL IF YOU'RE AN ADULT AND LOOKING AT MY BLOG.

I USE HE/HIM AND ZIP/ZIPS

I'M BISEXUAL I THINK

I STRUGGLE WITH KLEPTOMANIA BUT I DON'T FEEL LIKE RECOVERING FROM IT!! I REPOST KLEPTO SHIT SOMETIMES!! IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT, DON'T FOLLOW ME!!

MY MAIN INTERESTS ARE MUSIC AND SONIC (i'm a speedster of fucking course i like sonic)

HERE'S SOME OF MY FAVORITE BANDS

THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CANNOT INTERACT WITH MY BLOG ARE ANY PHOBES. STOP BEING A DICKWEED!!

OKAY OKAY I THINK THAT'S EVERYTHING!!!

MY ASKS ARE OPEN IF YOU WANNA KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME!!!