#pietro marvel

[tuyynhuu]

rewatched a few episodes of xmen evolution, missed my fav twins so bad so OFC I had to a rough redraw them :D

[andy-15-07]

Jealous Flames

pairing: Aaron Taylor Johnson x female!reader

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

Aaron Taylor Johnson Masterlist

warning:smut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cece693]

SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT

Pietro Maximoff x Male Reader

synopsis: Pietro has a habit of disappearing every time things get too heated in the bedroom, and you tired of this game decide it's time for payback.

WARNING: 18+ SMUT AHEAD

It was all fun and games until your boyfriend blue balled you one too many times. Pietro had a tendency to tease you within an inch of sanity: his mouth at your throat, his hand halfway down your pants, voice all husky with "I want you so bad" only to vanish in a gust of wind the moment you pulled him onto the bed.

At first, you let it slide, but by the fifth time? It was war.

So, when Pietro curled into your side one lazy morning, shirtless and sleepy eyed, mumbling about how warm you were and pressing light kisses to your jaw, you didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t even sigh. You simply pushed him off gently and rolled out of bed.

“I’ve got stuff to do.”

Pietro blinked up at you like a kicked puppy. “Wait, what?”

At first, he thought it was a fluke. Maybe you were grumpy. Maybe he’d crossed a line. So he tried again. At breakfast, Pietro did what he always did when he wanted your attention: draped himself into your lap like a needy cat, arms looped lazily around your neck, cheek pressed to your shoulder. Normally, this would’ve had you sliding a hand up his thigh, fingers teasing under the tablecloth, whispering something that made his breath catch in his throat.

This time?

You shifted, and gently, but firmly, reached under his thighs, and placed him on the seat beside you like a misbehaving child. Then, without missing a beat, turned to Wanda and asked if she wanted more coffee. Pietro’s mouth dropped open.

“You didn’t even notice I’m not wearing underwear.”

The silence that followed was immediate and brutal. Wanda blinked, slowly setting her mug down with the kind of precision that said if I don’t move, maybe this won’t get worse. Bucky coughed and muttered, “Jesus” under his breath. Steve gave a vaguely horrified “Pietro!”.

“Oh, I noticed,” you said mildly, sipping your coffee. “I just don’t care.”

Pietro stared at you like you’d slapped him. “No. No, no, no. You always care. You always blush and sneak off with me and—why are you not blushing?!”

You glanced down at his very bare thighs and gave a bland shrug. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before, baby.”

Then, with nothing more than a bored blink and a soft “Bye,” you turned on your heel and left the kitchen. Tony, who had walked in just in time to witness it, muttered under his breath: “Brutal. Cold blooded. I love it.”

LATER THAT DAY

You were on the couch, legs draped over the armrest, flipping lazily through a book with no real urgency, the kind of calm that screamed, I’m ignoring someone on purpose.

Pietro padded in like a man on death row.

He was wearing your hoodie. Your hoodie. The one he always stole after sex or long missions or when he wanted to act extra clingy. Hood pulled up over his messy silver hair, sleeves trailing over his hands, the hem grazing his bare thighs (because of course he wasn’t wearing pants.)

“Babe?” he started softly, sinking to his knees in front of you like a kicked puppy. “Sweetheart? My beautiful, perfect, emotionally abusive boyfriend?”

You licked your thumb and turned a page.

“I swear I won’t run again,” he said, inching closer on his knees, resting his chin on your knee. “You can tie me down if you want. Break my legs. I don’t care. Just look at me.”

You reached for your drink without breaking eye contact with your book. Pietro made a sound, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and buried his face in your thigh.

“You’re torturing me,” he muttered. “This is actually inhumane. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna combust. I haven’t been touched in days. I had a dream you kissed Steve. Steve. Do you know how traumatic that was?”

“Mm,” you said absently. “He looks like a good kisser. I’d consider it.”

He screeched.

TIME SKIP: EVENING

You were fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped low around your hips, looking through your closet when you heard the soft whump of something landing on the bed. You turned and Pietro was there. Sprawled across the bed, ass up, legs parted slightly like an offering, wearing nothing but a wide satin ribbon tied low around his waist with a painfully obvious little bow right over his lower back. He looked over his shoulder at you, eyes wide and glassy, cheeks pink, breath already coming too fast.

“Surprise.” he said weakly, voice cracking halfway through.

You blinked. Raised a brow. And then, with a calmness that rivaled saints, you turned right back around and reached for a clean pair of boxers and pajama bottoms.

A broken whine left Pietro’s throat, high and needy. In less than a blink, he was suddenly in front of you, arms spread, blocking the dresser with that same desperate look on his face. His lower lip trembled like a kicked puppy’s.

“No! You’re not ignoring me again!”

You looked over his shoulder at the bed. “You tracked lube onto the sheets.”

“I can wash them—I will wash them—I’ll lick them clean if I have to!” he cried, clutching at your forearms. “Please. Just please. Touch me. I’ve edged myself twice today just thinking about your stupid pajama pants.”

You narrowed your eyes, tone flat. “You know what I can’t stop thinking about? That time your tongue was halfway down my throat, your hand was in my pants, and then you vanished. Like a goddamn ghost. Left me hard and angry.”

“I panicked!” he cried.

“You always panic.”

“I didn’t mean to! I swear, I wanted to—I just—I got too into my head and then I—ugh!” He tugged at his own hair, pacing in frantic little zigzags like his own guilt was eating him alive. "I won't leave. I'll stay. I promise. You can cuff me to the bed if you want. Chain me. Superglue me down. I don’t care. Just please don’t make me sleep without your hands on me.”

You inhaled slowly, eyeing him. He was flushed: skin hot, chest heaving, cock twitching against his stomach like it was aching from neglect. The ribbon around his waist had long since unraveled, now dangling pathetically from one hip. Letting out a little huff, your hands went to the towel around your waist and tugged it loose. Not wasting time, Pietro dropped to his knees and moaned filthily when the head of your cock brushed his bottom lip before being swallowed whole.

His mouth was hot, eager, sloppy in his desperation. He gagged and moaned like he was trying to make up for every time he left you aching and alone. Not being able to contain yourself, you gripped his hair and thrusted further inside, moaning at the sight of your pretty boyfriend taking it all. Tears gathering at the corner of his eyes, lips stretched and swollen while spit dripped down his chin and throat. You pulled him off only because you didn't want to cum so quickly.

"Get up." Pietro looked up at you, and obediently, pushed himself upright on shaky legs.

That’s when you saw it.

His cock was flushed a deep red, glistening at the tip with pre-cum. It twitched when you looked at it, as if begging for attention. And there, laid delicately across the base and draped forward, was the ribbon. Somehow, in all the movement, it had found its way there, curling gently around his shaft like a final plea.

You reached out and ran the pads of your fingers along his hip. Pietro let out a breathless whimper, eyes fluttering shut. “You look so pretty like this.”

“Do I?”

You leaned in, kissing just beneath his ear. “Beautiful.”

You helped him back onto the bed, this time gently guiding him to lie on his back. The second his head hit the pillow, he blinked up at you with wide, soft eyes. Gone was the cocky smirk or flirtatious energy; he looked bare in the most vulnerable way.

You kissed him slow. You let your kisses trail from his mouth to his throat, to his collarbone, down his chest. You took your time, lips lingering at every freckle and sensitive spot, listening for the hitch in his breath, the slight curl of his fingers in the sheets.

When your mouth brushed against the head of his cock, Pietro shuddered. “Please,” he whispered, almost reverently. “I—I need you so bad.”

You looked up at him, lips curled in the softest smile. “You have me." Then you took him into your mouth, slow and deep. He cried out, hips bucking slightly before your hands held him steady, coaxing him into stillness.

Pietro whimpered, lashes wet. His thighs trembled with every flick of your tongue, every hollow of your cheeks, every soft moan you let vibrate against his sensitive skin. You gave him everything. Attention, warmth, devotion. You let him feel it all. When you finally pulled away, his chest was heaving, his eyes frantic. “I—I’m close. I want to feel you, please—please—”

You kissed his thigh, then sank into him in one slow motion. Pietro gasped, arms immediately wrapping around you like a lifeline while his strong legs wrapped around your waist. His back arched, his mouth open in a silent cry.

You held still, breathing in his scent, pressing your nose against his jaw. “You okay?”

“Never been better,” he gasped, voice already wrecked. “Please move.”

You did. Gentle rolls of your hips, dragging every inch out of him before going back in. He clung to you the whole time, sobbing softly into your shoulder, muttering broken things like 'I love you', 'faster' and 'thank you.' And when he came, it was with a soft, desperate cry of your name, his whole body curling into yours as he trembled through it.

You followed not long after, burying your face in his neck as you groaned against his sweat slick skin, fingers digging into his waist as you came inside him.

Pulling out after a minute, you laid on your side, watching Pietro with unrestrained affection. He laid boneless, eyes glassy starring at the ceiling, his skin marked with hickeys like a constellation. You kissed his jaw gently, brushing sweat-matted hair back from his face. “Still thinking about running next time?”

“If I ever leave your dick again, just kill me.”

You snorted and pulled him close, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Deal.”

[bpmiranda]

Just a little drabble with Pietro Maximoff whom I cannot stop fantasizing over🤭

A/N: nsfw, smut, 18+ f!reader, fwb w/ pietro maximoff, simp(ish)!pietro, cocky!pietro, overstimulation, what i am introducing as cool girl!reader

The open refrigerator dimly lights Xavier’s kitchen, casting everything around her in a soft glow as she fixes a bowl of cereal. The mansion is mostly asleep, junior and senior X-Men resting from a long day of drills and training and classes. Meanwhile, Y/N sat cross-legged on the counter, eating cereal as she contemplated whether or not she actually liked this oat milk Jean had bought. She was halfway through reading the label on the box when a gust of wind whooshed through the room. “Could’ve sworn I heard the sacred crunch of Cocoa Puffs.” Pietro’s voice came as he stepped into the kitchen.

She didn’t look up, just jabbed the cereal box next to her with her spoon, mouth full as she said, “Guilty. Call the X-Men.”

Pietro, barefoot and shirtless, smirked as he stood in those grey sweatpants that had once or twice made her brows raise. He peered into the fridge and pulled out a can of whipped cream. “A balanced meal.” He said, shaking it before tipping it into his mouth.

“How gourmet.” She muttered, smirking. “How’s insomnia treating you?”

“Same old,” He said, leaning against the fridge across from her, his eyes scanning over her tank top and bare legs in her sleep shorts. “Ran around the lake five times. Watched every season of King of The Hill. Figured I’d see who else couldn’t sleep.”

She swirled the little dregs of milk at the bottom of her bowl around and shrugged. “Guess we’re both restless.”

There was a comfortable silence. Neither of them rushed to fill it. That was part of the weird, easy thing between them - they could be quiet together. Pietro broke the stillness with a slow grin. “Y’know,” He said, hopping up to sit on the counter next to her, “We could make things…less boring.”

She gave him a side-eye, amused. “That a proposition, Maximoff?”

He gave her an amused look. “It’s more a mutually beneficial suggestion for exercise between hot and consenting adults.”

Slowly, she licked off her spoon and looked at him, really looked at him for a second. He wasn’t trying too hard. He wasn’t pretending this was anything serious. Just a moment between two people who knew what this was. And hell, she was curious so why not? Lazily, she leaned over and kissed him. Her hand rested on his thigh as she tilted her head and he followed the other way, encouraging the exploration with a playful nip at her lip. They grew a little bolder, testing the water. Pietro smirked a little as he licked her bottom lip and felt her smile.

When she pulled back, he blinked once and then grinned. “So that’s a yes?”

“I mean,” She began, hopping off the counter and setting her bowl in the sink before glancing at him over her shoulder, “You’re the only one up.” He slid off the counter smoothly and followed her out of the kitchen like a shadow, still holding onto the can of whipped cream, still grinning like a troublemaker. She didn’t take his hand to lead him or look back, she knew he was following.

What they assumed would be a one time thing quickly became a regular and convenient occurrence. It was easy. Pietro wasn’t looking to slow down for a relationship and she wasn’t exactly searching for love. Their friendship had always been light and flirty, her ability to slow the momentum of objects or people - once a challenge to his very existence - made for a playful back and forth.

“You ever just walk somewhere?” She huffs as she smooths her hair down when he zips into her bedroom one afternoon, crashing on her bed with a smug smirk and his signature gust of wind.

“That’s the least attractive thing you could say to me.” He quipped making her roll her eyes as she continued searching through her clothes for an outfit. “Got enough time for a quickie before your little brunch?”

“Isn’t every time a quickie with you?” She teased, tossing a denim skirt onto the bed without looking.

Pietro chuckled and then zipped to stand right behind her, his large hands on her hips as he pulled her back against him as he murmurs in her ear, “Never hear you asking me to slow down when I’m in you, Speed Bump.”

The roll of her eyes couldn’t hide the amused smirk on her lips as he kissed corner of her mouth and slid a hand underneath her tank top. “You’ll have to wait until I get back, Jackrabbit.” And Pietro always did because no one felt like she did - comfortable, yet exciting. Hot and cold, playful and uninterested. She was the only girl that gave him whiplash which he was usually very good at avoiding.

It was far too late for a hook up, much later than she usually allowed, but it was starting to become an unspoken routine. Pietro stayed for a movie in her bedroom and it began as things always did between them; sarcastic commentary on the movie, playful banter when they didn’t agree on the logistics of an action scene, an impromptu tumble that ended with her wrists pinned at either side of her head. At that point, it wasn’t long before the sheets were kicked down to the floor, sweat clinging to their skin like silk.

The room is illuminated only by the dull glow of the movie playing on in the background. Pietro has her on her back, one hand pinning her thigh up, the other braced beside her head, and he’s fucking her like he’s chasing something. The kind of rhythm only he can deliver - fast, deep, precise - designed to unravel her completely. She’s already come twice; once from his mouth, the second from his fingers and that ridiculous speed he uses in bursts that hit all her nerves at once.

Her voice is wrecked, body is shaking, fingers are dug into his shoulders, holding him close like she’ll fall apart if there’s even a millimeter of space between them. He knows she’s on the edge, he can feel it in how she scratches desperately down his toned back, how her thighs clench around his waist as she whines. Pietro’s breathing hard against her ear, his voice nothing but a husky, ragged murmur as he drives into her.

“Look at you. Fuck, you’re so damn pretty. Letting me ruin you.” His teeth nip at her cheek and she chuckles weakly. “Tell me you love it.” She moans, nodding frantically, too far gone for words and he moves faster, just a little, just enough to make her sob his name. Her legs wrap tighter around him, her hips rising to meet every thrust like her body needs it. “Third one, baby,” He groans, watching the way her brows furrow upwards in distress. “C’mon, give it to me. You can do it - do it for me. My good fucking girl.”

Her hands fly to his hair, clutching, fingernails biting into his scalp. “Pietro!” He slows just enough to drag the next thrust, deep and devastating, lips grazing hers. “Oh, f-fuck, I’m-”

“That’s it,” He growled as her core tightens around his throbbing length. “Let me have you.”

And that’s when it happens. She gasps, high and trembling, and it breaks out of her right as her whole body clenches around him, tipping over the edge. “Baby,” She says it in a soft, breathless, unguarded tone of voice. No teasing. No sarcasm. Just a plea. Pietro freezes, cock still buried deep, eyes flying open.

That little pet name hits him in the chest like a punch, like he wasn’t expecting it, like it cracked something wide open inside him. She’s never really called him anything outside of his name, a playfully affectionate dumbass here and there, but baby? That’s new and he adores it.

“Say it again,” He whispers, stunned by her vulnerability. “Say it again, please.” But she’s shaking, panting, completely spent, her arms still wrapped around him like she needs him right there. Her face pressed to his neck as she shakes her head. She doesn’t say it again. She doesn’t need to. She meant it and he knows. He lets out a shaky breath, pressing kisses to her cheek, her temple, her shoulder as his own release creeps up his spine as he watches her soften. “You’re gonna ruin me,” He says breathlessly, grinning against her skin. “Like, really ruin me.”

And this time, she doesn’t tease like she usually would, doesn’t deflect by calling him clingy or obsessed. She just hums and holds him tighter. “Good.”

Late the next morning in the X-Mansion’s gym, Logan and Gambit are mid-workout. Logan is at the punching bag, Gambit is lifting at the weights when Pietro speeds in for his usual post-run cooldown. He’s already flushed from exertion, hair damp and curling at the edges. He stretches his arms over his head, then peels off his clingy t-shirt with a grunt and tosses it on the bench.

That’s when Logan freezes mid-punch. Gambit pauses with the barbell halfway up and whistles low through his teeth. They both notice Pietro’s back which is a map of scratches. Long, red, fading into bruises near the top of his shoulder blades. One or two near his ribs. Some deeper than others. All unmistakably fresh.

“Jesus,” Logan grunts. “You wrestle a damn cat last night?”

Pietro grabs a towel, wiping his neck, not even trying to hide his grin. “Nah. Just my girl.”

“Looks like she tried to climb you.” Gambit laughs, full-bodied and impressed.

“She did,” Pietro says, too casually. “Twice.”

Logan snorts, shaking his head. “Kid, we don’t need the play-by-play.”

Gambit squints, teasing. “She do all that with those pretty little nails of hers?”

“Mmhmm,” Pietro throws the towel over his shoulder and heads for the free weights, still grinning like a man who barely survived the night and can’t wait to do it again. “And I’ll take the damage every time.”

Logan mutters, “Back in my day we kept that shit to ourselves.”

Pietro flashes a wicked smile, before saying, “Back in your day, sex was probably still in black and white.” Gambit loses it, dropping the barbell back into place before he doubles over laughing while Logan grumbles under his breath about Maximoff having a mouth faster than his feet.

I don’t know if I enjoy Pietro Maximoff as a character or if I enjoy Aaron Taylor-Johnson as the character🤔 Either way, I’m hot and bothered by him lately😩

Quicksilver Masterlist

[pretty-little-mind33]

Pietro Maximoff x fem!reader

KINKTOBER 2024

summary: You try and get Pietro to sit still.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[corawithfanfiction]

Hi! Would you ever consider do anything that was Aaron Taylor Johnson x reader? (his celeb self I mean.) Maybe something like they’re working on a movie together (y/n is younger) and get to be friends and then something transpires between them? Ahh!!

Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Fem!Reader (Young Actress Reader - Request)

MY MASTERLIST! - EVENTS! - HOME!

This is an original story and may not be copied or translated into another language without permission!

warning: claustrophobia, age difference, dirty language, nickname, divorce, coworker, action scene, car accident, creep, expectation.

summary: You're doing test shoots for action scenes with the lead of your new movie. You always thought you were like a sister to her until you find out that he is now a single man.

(2632 word)

Hope you like it sweetie, I try the write as soon as possible :) @smallmarvel

It was one of the new weeks in your new project. The reading rehearsals had been over for a few days. But post-production had taken a long time. Or maybe it's because it's your biggest project and you've never experienced this kind of crew and work discipline before.

The cast had been in camp for months and all of them had been working out constantly to change their bodies for their roles. In the last days you have been working on your choreography. Your screen time would be about fifteen to twenty minutes, but the opportunity to work with such a cast made it all worthwhile.

You had two fight scenes, one big and one small. Although it wouldn't be right to call them both fights. Generally the bad guys were chasing you and our hero was there for you, but there were still moves you had to memorize.

When you first read the script, you thought that since it was an escape scene, it wouldn't challenge you and you would just run. But it wasn't like that. You had to jump, jump, sometimes crawl and even fight one-on-one. To make the scene more realistic, you were choreographed to fight for your life. At first you hated it, but once you learned the moves and started doing them much faster, you started to enjoy it.

Today was the day of the test shoot.

It was the first time you and the rest of the crew would act out the scenes together. Of course you had all met each other. You had rehearsed readings, the director had organized some nights for you all to get along better. One of them was a movie night where you watched some of the old crappy horror movies. It was a milestone day when you couldn't be afraid to laugh and you started to feel comfortable around each other as a team. Another night was a silent movie night. It was through events like these that you formed good friendships.

Aside from being friends with the crew and spending time together, today was the first day you were going to be in front of the camera. And it was for the fight scene. You were the last name in the cast and you were the least famous of them all. In direct proportion to that, you were not the main female character of the movie, but all your scenes were with the hero of the movie, the leading male character. Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who is going to save you from the bad guys in today's the test shoot.

Aaron was a very funny and kind man. He would come to your workouts to make you feel comfortable, give you feedback and often praise you on how well you were doing. In addition to these interactions, he was usually quiet on set. He would share a laugh with certain people, but he was very kind to the whole set and the staff. A true English gentleman.

When you arrived on set, you put on something comfortable. Leggings, a sports bra that covers your breasts and makes the whole action scene easier for you, and a loose t-shirt with the logo of your favorite band. Since it was a test shoot, you were wearing air force sneakers. You were determined to at least make this test as comfortable as possible until the main shoot.

Aaron came into the field right behind you. He was similarly dressed in comfortable clothes. He arrived in gray sweatpants and a basic t-shirt. They rocked back and forth with their hands in their pockets, talking to the director about the scene. You'd have to be blind not to notice the movement of his muscles with each sway…You reminded yourself that you were a married man and tried to focus on your scene.

After he finished talking to the director, he came up to you and said, “Good morning, baby.” He pulled you into a hug. You knew he gave you that nickname because of the age difference. You reminded yourself that there was nothing to be excited about and accepted his hug.

When he pulled back, with an energetic smile on his face, he asked, “Are you ready for today?” His smile must have been contagious because you were smiling back. “As much as I can,” you replied, shaking your legs - in a pose as if you were about to run a marathon.

His grin was still on his face. “We'll try not to push you too hard today, but we still want to go through all the scenes. But if there's any scene or movement that makes you uncomfortable, we'll definitely stop shooting,” he explained with great care. You had to admit that you were very lucky to be working with someone so kind and understanding. “Thanks Aaron, I really appreciate it, but I don't think we'll have any problems, we've been rehearsing these moves for weeks.” You reassured him. “Honey, the shot might feel different though, remember to stop if you have trouble.” He insisted. “I promise I will stop the scene if it feels uncomfortable,” you reassured him. All the while trying not to get hung up on the new nickname...

The first test shoot went quite well. The more complicated scene was next, but you decided to do it tomorrow. Or rather your director decided so. This decision was made because he wanted to shoot tomorrow with full make-up and clothes. Because it is necessary to decide whether the costumes in the movie will cause any problems in the scene and choreography and what precautions should be taken if necessary. So tomorrow you will enter the set as if you are shooting the first scene of the movie. Lights, camera, makeup, hair, costume… Everything you can think of will be prepared. To be honest, you're very excited about it.

But this was tomorrow's subject, today's subject and a new movie night. The leading lady of your movie had invited everyone who was doing a test shoot today to a movie night at her house because her house was quite close to the set.

You decided to change at the set before going back to the hotel and go with Aaron. Because he had arrived by car and you didn't want to waste time looking for a taxi.

The ride was peacefully silent until the sound of Aaron's cell phone connected to the car filled the air. “Excuse me, this is important. If you don't mind-” As soon as I saw the word lawyer appear on the screen, I said, ”No, no, please. I don't mind at all.”

When he picked up the phone, the loud, booming voice of the lawyer on the other end filled the car. “Hey, buddy, how you doing?” Aaron's fingers were turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. His grip on the steering wheel was tighter than it had been since he'd called the lawyer. “Please give me some good news Kev,” his lawyer, Kev - you probably think it was Kevin - noticed Aaron's nervousness and started to chuckle. “Relax man, you're a single man now. Sam accepted the deal and signed all the papers. Congratulations man, enjoy your new life.” Aaron let out a deep breath at the sound of the phone hanging up. “I'm sorry this is really-” before you could finish the sentence Aaron's laughter filled the car and you heard him say something like 'oh shit' but you didn't dwell on it. His happiness was contagious and the awkward silence in the car was gone.

You couldn't say the same about movie night, though. They had chosen a really terrible movie this time and you were constantly screaming and disturbing the whole crew. One or two people who were really enjoying the movie were a bit annoyed by this, but the crew was having a lot of fun with your reactions.

When the lead role was finally placed alive in the coffin, you felt your breath catch in your throat. “I think I-” the incoherent words came out so quietly that no one even realized you were about to have an attack of claustrophobia. As soon as you started to fidget on the couch, an arm grabbed you around the waist and pulled you towards him. You couldn't see who it was in the dark room. With one hand still on your waist, he grabbed your neck with his free hand and held you against his chest. You immediately inhaled the familiar scent. You relaxed yourself in the safety of the warmth. “Shh, calm down doll, I'm here.” His low voice and the sound of him moving around your waist were enough to calm your nerves. But his lips barely touching your ear sent a shiver down your spine. You were about to remind yourself that this was wrong when you remembered that he was now a single man.

When you arrived on set, you went straight to your trailer for makeup. While you were lost in the memories of yesterday, your makeup was finished and your hair was being done.

Shortly after the movie ended, you and Aaron said goodbye to your friends and left. You were staying in the same hotel, so you went on the car ride together again. He made fun of you a little during the ride and finally you agreed to watch a comedy movie together. When you arrived at the hotel, he insisted on escorting you to your room even though your rooms were not on the same floor.

After opening the door to your room, you wished each other good night. Before you parted, you shared another hug. It was the longest hug you had ever shared. Sure, it was a minute hug, but it usually lasted no more than a few seconds and no, every time you hugged Aaron you didn't calculate how long it lasted. “Good night, baby,” he whispered in your ear as his hand circled your back. Then he left after leaving a vague kiss on your burn.

While your hair was being done, you were drowning in memories. You told yourself you were exaggerating, after all, he always called you baby. You were like his little brother, that's what you had been telling yourself for weeks, except you didn't know then that he was about to get divorced and that he was now a single man. Yes, there was an age difference, but it wasn't twenty years. You were just a couple years younger.

You came out of your daydream with Aaron's voice. “Hello baby,” he winked at your image in the mirror. ‘Good morning Aaron,’ you smiled. When you were called from inside to put on your costumes, you waved “See you in a minute” and headed towards the cabin. After changing your clothes, you took one last look at your image in the mirror and went to the set area. It wasn't a superhero movie so there were no weird tights and uncomfortable costumes. It was a chase scene where you would be chased by the 'bad guys' after you left work and then it would take place on the streets of the city. He was wearing tight fabric pants, a white shirt and stilettos. When the scene first started you would run in heels. Then you could switch to sneakers because they would not be visible in the camera angles. But neither the shoes nor the shirt made you unhappy. The only thing that bothered you was the lacy bra. You were looking for the comfort of your sports bra from the day before.

On the director's orders, you started the test shoot. You came out of your model building, realized you were being followed while walking down the street and jumped into the first taxi you saw. The team chasing you rear-ends your taxi with the car they are driving and you get stuck in the vehicle. At this moment, Aaron arrives and performs the fight scene with the men chasing you. After he rescues you from your trapped position, you take him by the hand and run together. At this point you were planning to change your shoes but you didn't want to stop shooting and you wondered how long you could go on.

After all, it was a test shoot. If you failed, you wouldn't try something like this next time. As you ran hand in hand, your heel caught on some fake stones. As Aaron checked you were okay, you gave him a sign that you could continue. As you continued your scene, you realized that the shoe was hurting you now. And the more you stepped, the more it hurt. But you were still shooting and you didn't want to give up on the first try.

You squeezed the hand that Aaron was holding. Immediately he turned to you and a low whimper of “Aaron,” escaped your lips. He immediately checked you with his eyes and tried to figure out what was wrong. “I don't think I can go on in these heels much longer,” As he was about to signal the director to stop the scene, he shook his hand once more and said, “Please don't stop the scene, we are almost finished. I don't want it to be cut because of me.” As you were quickly looking for a solution, the camera was coming towards you from the backstage area.

As you wondered what to do, you felt yourself being swept off your feet. As you let out a little scream of surprise, you could tell that your director was enjoying the moment and was pleased with the image that was being captured on camera. Aaron embraced you bridal style. And he was running towards the area where your final scene would take place. “What are you doing!” you whispered after your astonishment had subsided a little. “I couldn't let you writhe in pain Y/N,” she said, giving you an angry look. “Oh, I thought you would enjoy watching me writhe in pain…” you snapped.

When you got to where you needed to be, he took you off his lap and you did the moves you had memorized for your scene. With the fake explosion planned on the set, you ducked down and crawled together to where you were supposed to hide. The camera went back to filming the extras fighting. You had time to lie down for a few minutes.

You tried to forget the pain in your feet as you lay on your back where you were crawling. You were a little stressed by the narrow space you were in, but your breathing was regular.

As the shouting and explosions continued in the background, Aaron crawled to where you were. Since you had decided to lie on your back, he was now standing over you, leaning on his elbows. He never took his eyes off your eyes for a moment. “I enjoy you squirming Y/N” he said, and you realized that he had returned to the previous conversation. “But I'll make sure it won't be in pain.” Your breath began to betray you as his gaze slid to your lips. He leaned in even more, closing the distance between you a little more. “But I will also show you that we are away from the cameras,” his words sent a shiver down your spine and a warmth to your core.

He immediately noticed when you involuntarily squeezed your legs together. He leaned down until his lips touched your earlobe before leaving his spot for his scene. “I knew you were made for me, baby.” He said. And he left his location to continue shooting. Leaving you there to daydream with all your wetness and anticipation.

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[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hiii can I req reader sending pietro a vid of her using a vibrator on herself and he just like rushes back so that he can fuck her in person

SNEAK PEAK 18+ ⸻ PIETRO MAXIMOFF

pietro maximoff x fem!reader

WORD COUNT. 835 WARNINGS. 18+ only! more suggestive ending rather than full smut, got carried away with the middle part. toys, general filth. mdni

When Pietro was out of town, you would satiate your own needs in your own way. Now that's not to say your wants were not met with Pietro, because that's an utter lie. Sometimes it was just nice to light a couple candles and take your time with a toy between your legs, that was all.

So with him gone for the night, you settle yourself down in bed and switch on your vibrator and you guide it to between your thighs, letting it hover just above your clit. You press it to the nub briefly and slip your spare hand under your robe and to one of your tits — giving your nipple a small tweak, quite like how Pietro would do it.

It was rare for him to ever part your mind really, but with that little act, you began to think of him more, think of him in a way that somehow, and very strangely made you feel guilty that he was missing out.

And so you let go of your breast and pick up your phone, unlocking it. You open the most recent chat at the top —Pietro— and click on the camera icon, holding your phone and angling it between your thighs as you snap a quick video. A soft hum being heard between small fluttery breaths of you. There was no need for the clip to be flashy or raunchy, for it to be anything extra — with him, there was no need. A blurry picture with an illusion to something more was far hotter to him anyways.

Within a few short seconds, your phone begins to light up beside you, a picture of your boyfriend displayed on your lock screen. You let it ring for a moment and then decline, ignoring the next call and the next, rejecting his advances as you knew it to be something he hated most. By the fourth call, you decide to answer it. You click on speakerphone and lay it on your chest, waiting for the inevitable disapproving, snarky comments.

"Oh hi," you play coy. 

"Finally," he scoffs on his side of the call. 

"Didn't see you calling me, what's up?"

"You send— ha ," he scoffs, the faux deflection in your voice entertains him. "Okay yeah, whatever,"

You cut him off, teasing him. "Everything okay?"

"No," he snaps, though his tone remains playful. "No, everything is not okay— you can't do that."

"Do what?"

"Send me a video like that and ignore me— you can't do that— don't play games with me."

"Video? Wait you got that video? I thought I sent that to someone else."

"Ha ha," he pretends to laugh, but really he was just hiding the fact what you just said actually humoured him. 

"You having some fun? You sound out of breath," you tease.

"Sranje, (shit)" he mutters, voice drifting like it was he was distracted for a moment. "I left my keys behind, can you let me in?"

"In? What? Are you home?" you pause and sit up, placing the toy aside. "Can't right now… about to cum," you lie. You bring your phone to your ear and stand, taking him off speakerphone. "Signal's spotty, you're cutting out."

"Draga (darling)… I will break this door down. You need to let me in, I'm not kidding."

You quietly make your way across the apartment, walking slowly to ensure the secrecy of what you're doing remains intact. To keep up with the charade, you fake a moan, though all it earns you is a laugh, a pitiful, albeit, entertained laugh. 

"Okay, okay," he chuckles, his voice now heard from behind the door just in front of you. "That was fake."

"No it wasn't," you protest and swing open the front door, Pietro in the flesh standing just a few feet from you. "How did you know that was fake?" you ask and end the call, speaking to him in person. 

His eyes drift down to your chest, a slither of breast between the robe catching his attention. He meets your eyes and steps inside, smooshing his lips to yours as he walks you backwards into the apartment. "Because," he utters between a kiss. 

You pull your head back and your brows scrunch. "How?"

"You've never made that sound before," he shrugs and shuts the door with his heel. "That's not how you sound when you cum," he adds, tone smug and cocky with the statement, like he was somehow getting you to admit to all the successeshe's given you. "You've never made that sound with me," he tops it off, grin cheeky when he notices you grow bashful with that realisation. 

He slips his hand into yours and guides you across the apartment, leading the way as you head for the bedroom. He stops at the foot of the bed and undresses himself, removing all articles of clothing until all that remains are his boxers, happy, attentive cock buldging through the fabric. 

"Show me how you use the that toy."

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[nthomasartist]

Pietro Maximoff - Quicksilver (Winter Gala)

Number 2 in this collection, nautrally, any excuse to draw this guy..

(This is also available as a print by clicking here)

Other pieces in this set: Wanda

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