The hand beneath your chin guided you along with his voice. "Open your mouth, you lazy thing." Your eyes stayed closed as you melted against the palm beneath your jaw. With your mouth obediently open, you let your lover brush your teeth for you.
You were standing but your brain looked at the act of walking the way it would a distant, foggy memory. Completely open to being guided, like a puppet. To him though, it was the complete opposite. You were adorable.
"Lower your head now." he said while rinsing the toothbrush under water and setting it aside. With eyes barely cracked open, you allowed him to slowly lean you over the sink and bring the half handful of water in his palm to your mouth.
"Rinse." The gentle command never fully reached your brain. Instead, you swallowed the water and suddenly, with a harsh shake at the back of your neck, whatever remained was forced back out into the sink.
Like a raccoon caught in headlights, you blankly stared into the mirror while he muttered under his breath and wiped the toothpaste stained water from your mouth and neck with a cloth. "Tastes disgusting…"
At your half mumbled complaint, he let out a faintly amused sigh. "Of course it tastes disgusting. You drank something you weren't supposed to." He tilted you back toward his palm again and pushed water into your mouth once more. Bent down close enough to your face, he watched you with complete focus. "This time, rinse."
You lazily swished the water around in your puffed cheeks, your eyes already beginning to drift shut again. Eventually growing tired of it, you spat the water out. With a cupped handful of water, he gently washed your mouth. Something soft brushed against your lips, leaving behind the fading trace of warmth.
"Come on let's go back to bed, big panda." You grumbled as if protesting the teasing tone but still allowed him to pick you up. Your legs dangled off to the side while your arms lazily wrapped around his neck without even bothering to open your eyes.
As he carried you away with him, you tucked yourself beneath his chin for the soothing feeling of his pulse. No matter what happened, having a man who would take care of you felt as lovely as a soft breeze.
Bestie hehe whose pullout game is worst and whose is best out of the characters Evan plays???
the evans + their pullout game !
ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march ‧ kai anderson ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel — nsfw ; MDNI 18+
a/n: hey bestie i love your mind
TATE LANGDON . (3/10)
his intentions are good. his execution? terrible. pull-out game is WEAK purely due to incompetence.
“fuck—wait, wait.. shit, i was supposed to-”
feels guilty as hell afterward. “you don’t think i did it on purpose, right? you believe me, don’t you?”
KIT WALKER . (2/10)
kit TRIES to be responsible. really, he does. but he’s also a man who fucks deep and loves even deeper.
a very passionate lover and in the heat of the moment, he forgets everything else.
honestly, he doesn’t even try that hard.
if you reminded him, he’d listen. but if you didn’t? yeah, he’s finishing inside.
if you got pregnant, he’d step up immediately. pullout game is terrible but he’s a great dad.
pre death .ᐟ KYLE SPENCER . (10/10)
doesn’t take risks; he’s got a good head on his shoulders.
his timing and self control are actually great. the pull-out game is strong with this one.
even before he met you, kyle doesn’t sleep around like most of his frat brothers, even though he totally could.
JIMMY DARLING . (6/10)
jimmy knows he can’t afford to be reckless. he’s working in a freak show—not exactly the best place to raise a kid.
he also worries about passing on his ectrodactyly. even though you tell him constantly that it doesn’t matter.
most of the time, he cums on your tits or ass.
but when he’s drunk, he’s super impulsive, emotional. all self control flies out the window.
if you got knocked up, he’d have a mini breakdown and go on a two day bender but would also step up.
he will also propose immediately (after he gets his shit together)
JAMES PATRICK MARCH . (10/10)
he is nothing if not disciplined.
if james ever decided to give you an heir, that decision was made long before the act.
lowkey has reservations because of bartholomew.
⟢ cult leader .ᐟ KAI ANDERSON . (0/10)
kai never pulls out. he never intended to in the first place.
at first, he’ll act like it was an accident—for the purpose of plausible deniability. he’ll moan about how tight you are, how good you feel, and then when it happens:
“fuck—couldn’t help it. you feel too good, baby.” he’s fake guilty, kissing your shoulder, murmuring “next time i’ll pull out, promise.”
next time never came. (but he did. inside you) at some point, he just stopped pretending.
“this is how it’s supposed to be. why would i waste it anywhere but inside you?”
if you tell him you’re not ready for kids, he’ll say “women are biologically wired to want children. you’re just brainwashed by feminism.” (i hate this guy)
0/10 cos he’s actively TRYING to fail.
if you got pregnant? he’d be ecstatic.
PETER MAXIMOFF . (5/10)
thinks he has great control, but he really, really doesn’t.
he’ll pull out last second. but he cuts it close EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
sometimes he miscalculates timing.
“uh. okay, okay—don’t freak out, but I MAY have just—wait, are you on the pill?”
COLIN ZABEL . (9/10)
very responsible. colin respects boundaries and never pressures you into risky sex. always wears condoms unless you explicitly ask not to.
“you sure? ‘cause, uh, i got condoms—like, a lot. not a weird amount, just… y’know, normal.”
lowkey wants to have kids with you… but suppresses the “selfish” fantasy.
his one weakness? when he’s tipsy.
the one time you were both drunk, making out on the couch, which led to hot and sloppy sex. you felt so good and he was so lost in it, and then—
“oh, shit.”
immediate panic. full-body guilt. buys you plan b, also flowers and coffee because he feels guilty.
overall he’s very reliable, just that one slip-up.
summary: in which you and pietro maximoff go undercover as a married couple, your mutual hatred simmering beneath forced smiles and lingering touches. but when the mission turns chaotic, tension ignites, and in the heat of escape, neither of you can resist what’s been building all night.
warnings: mature content mdni (unprotected sex, oral f receiving) enemies to lovers, language.
words count: 3.3k
lowercase intended
the ballroom was suffocatingly opulent, gold chandeliers glinting off crystal glasses, the murmur of conversation laced with greed and danger. you tugged at the delicate lace of your gown, suppressing the urge to adjust the wedding ring on your finger. it felt heavy, unnatural. and not just because it wasn’t real.
“stop fidgeting, dragă mea” pietro murmured in your ear, his accent curling around the pet name with practiced ease. his hand settled on your lower back, fingers pressing just hard enough to make you stiffen.
you tilted your head up at him, keeping the picture-perfect facade of a loving wife, even as you dug your nails into his arm. “touch me like that again and i’ll break those fingers.”
pietro grinned, far too entertained by your irritation. “that is no way to speak to your husband, love.”
the word dripped with mockery, and you bit back a scathing retort. instead, you let your lips part in a soft smile, eyes heavy-lidded as you trailed a finger down the lapel of his suit. “then act like a husband,” you purred. “and stop eye-fucking every blonde in this room.”
his grip on your waist tightened, just for a fraction of a second. “jealous already?”
you leaned in, so close your lips nearly brushed his. “i’d have to want you for that, maximoff.”
he chuckled lowly, shifting just enough that his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “liar.”
you inhaled sharply, about to throw something equally venomous back, when a sharp ding rang through the room. the auction was beginning.
the act continued as you both took your seats near the front. pietro played the part of the arrogant, entitled buyer well, legs spread lazily, fingers drumming against your thigh as if he owned you. every time you shifted to brush him off, his grip would tighten. a silent challenge. a reminder.
you retaliated with lingering touches of your own, fingertips dragging over the back of his hand as you leaned in to whisper into his ear, voice honey-sweet. “try not to make it so obvious how much you’re enjoying this.”
pietro turned his head, his lips a breath away from yours, blue eyes flickering dark with something unreadable. “oh, i’m enjoying this?” his voice dropped to a whisper, teasing and taunting. “you’re the one breathing a little heavier every time i touch you.”
you scoffed, rolling your eyes, but you knew he was right. the heat simmering between you two had been building all night, long before tonight, if you were honest with yourself.
as the bidding began, pietro leaned back in his chair, arm draped casually around your shoulders. “stay close” he murmured, the romanian words for my wife sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. “wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”
“oh?” you mused, turning your head to graze your lips against his jaw, just to see if he’d flinch. “and what idea would that be?”
his smirk was pure sin. “that you belong to anyone but me.”
your heart stuttered. you hated him. hated the way he could flip the game on you so effortlessly. hated that, right now, you weren’t entirely sure where the act ended and something real began.
the auction concluded. the stolen s.h.i.e.l.d. weapon was yours. and then, everything went to hell.
gunfire rang through the ballroom. guests screamed, overturning tables in their rush to flee. you and pietro moved in sync, slipping away in the chaos. he grabbed your wrist, pulling you through a side door into a dimly lit hallway.
he didn’t stop until he had you pressed against the cool marble wall, one hand braced beside your head, the other still gripping your wrist. his breathing was heavy, his body too close, his heat searing against your skin.
you tried to focus, to ignore the way your pulse betrayed you. “you-”
“you drive me insane” pietro growled, cutting you off.
you blinked, momentarily stunned. “excuse me?”
his fingers traced a slow path up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “you think i haven’t noticed the way you tease me? the way you love making me jealous?” his lips ghosted over your jaw, and you hated how easily your breath hitched.
you forced a smirk, tilting your chin up defiantly. “jealous? please.”
he huffed a laugh, then suddenly, so fast you barely registered it, he grabbed your hand and pressed it against his chest, right over his racing heart. “tell me that’s not the reason yours is doing the same thing.”
your fingers curled against the fabric of his shirt. damn him. damn him for being right.
the tension that had been building between you for months snapped like a live wire.
you surged forward at the same time he did, mouths colliding in a desperate, bruising kiss. it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t sweet. it was a war, a clash of teeth and tongues, hands roaming, bodies pressing together as if you could erase the distance that had existed for far too long.
pietro groaned against your lips, one hand slipping to your thigh, hoisting it up to press closer against him. “tell me to stop” he murmured, but it wasn’t a challenge this time, it was a plea.
your head was spinning, your heart hammering. “don’t you dare.”
his responding smirk was wicked as he kissed you again, deeper this time, slower, because he knew now. knew that, despite all the arguing, despite all the teasing and venomous words, this had been inevitable.
and neither of you wanted to stop.
you pushed him inside the elevator next to you and once the doors closed you blocked both of you inside, so you could have more privacy.
as the elevator doors slid shut, pietro’s back hit the cool metal wall with a soft thud. you pressed against him, your hands tangling in his hair, deepening the kiss. the small space felt electric, charged with the pent-up energy of months of unspoken desires and heated arguments.
your desperation ignited something dark and hungry in him. his hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer as he kissed you back with equal fervor. the elevator walls seemed to close in around you, intensifying the moment.
your body was pressed against his while you pushed him more towards the elevator wall.
“fuck,” he gasped against your lips when his back hit the wall, one hand sliding down to grip your ass while the other fisted in your hair. your aggression was driving him crazy. “you’re not very subtle about what you want, are you?” he murmured between messy kisses.
“shut up” you answered, annoyed.
he laughed softly, taking your jaw in one hand and deepening the kiss again. your body was flush against his, one thigh snaked between his legs. he hardened against you, causing you to bite his lower lip.
“damn” he hissed, hips bucking slightly, seeking friction.
in that moment, he flipped the situation. now you were the one pushed against the wall, and he was the one pressing his body against yours. he caged you in with his arms on either side of your head. his kisses became more dominating, his hands roaming possessively over your body. “i think i like when you’re quiet.”
“if you keep talking, i swear i’ll punch you,” you warned him.
he was so annoying, but you kinda liked it. he smirked against your lips, clearly enjoying the fact that you were threatening violence but still keeping quiet.
“oh, how tempting,” he murmured, his hands sliding down your sides, his thumbs brushing over your peaks. “maybe i will make you lose your temper then.”
you found it so frustrating how he annoyed you so much you actually wanted him. you didn’t know what annoyed you the most, if it was the fact he never shut up, or that he kept teasing you, or maybe it was the fact that you loved when he did those things.
he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered teasingly, “you know, for someone who claims to hate my mouth so much, you sure seem to enjoy kissing it.”
his lips quirked into a smug grin as he pulled back slightly to gauge your reaction.
you rolled your hips against his, enjoying how fast this little action made him stop teasing you. you smirked at him.
his eyes narrowed, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin as he realized you were using physical contact to shut him up. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him again. “you think you’re clever, don’t you?”
“oh yes, i am, basing myself on how quickly it worked and made you shut up” you teased.
he threw his head back and laughed, his body relaxing. his hands squeezed your ass softly.
“you know what your problem is?” he teased back, his voice lowering again. “you either want to kill me or…” he paused deliberately, smirking again. “spread your legs for me.”
“oh shut up, like you don’t feel the same way about me” you teased, rolling your hips against his again.
he smiled widely, pressing against you more firmly.
“of course i fucking do,” he admitted shamelessly. “see the problem here, love? neither of us wants to back down. i spend all day wanting to shut you up, then thinking about shutting you up by fucking you instead.”
“then? what’s it gonna be now? will you make me shut up, or will you fuck me?” you teased with a smirk on your face, getting closer to him.
his pupils dilated at your words, clearly enjoying this little dirty banter between you two. his smirk was predatory now as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “both.”
his hands snaked around to grab your thighs, holding you up as if you weighed nothing and pressing you against the wall. the only difference now was that your legs were wrapped around him, and also your arms.
pietro’s kiss became harder, more urgent, reflecting your desperation. his hands dug into your thighs as he ground against you, letting you feel just how much he needed this too.
you moaned.
he broke the kiss abruptly, breathing heavily. pietro’s eyes rolled back slightly at the sound of your moan, his grip on your thighs tightening. he buried his face in your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there.
“fuck, i can’t wait to hear how you sound when i’m inside you” he growled.
soft whimpers and little moans kept escaping your mouth because of his actions and words. you never wanted him and hated him this much at the same time. he was making you lose your mind.
pietro smirked against your neck as he felt your body shudder with each nip and grind. he loved reducing you to these desperate little noises, seeing you unravel.
“mmm, you’re so fucking responsive” he murmured, voice low and husky.
“shut up and kiss me” you ordered, crushing your lips against his again.
pietro groaned into the kiss, not needing to be told twice. his lips moved urgently against yours, tongue thrusting past to claim your mouth thoroughly. one hand slid into your hair, tilting your head for a better angle as he kissed you with weeks’ worth of pent-up frustration and lust.
he ground harder against you, his erection pressing firmly against your core. he knew exactly what he was doing, driving you wild with every movement. he broke the kiss just enough to whisper against your lips, “is this what you want? you want me to fuck you right here, right now?”
“yeah” you smirked.
his smirk matched yours, and he pressed his forehead against yours for a moment, breathing heavily.
“fucking hell” he muttered, then kissed you again, even more fiercely than before. his hands gripped your thighs tighter, positioning you so that his erection rubbed against your clit with each movement.
“fuck, there’s too much clothes” you commented, getting back on your feet and starting to undo his tie.
he watched you unravel his tie, then your quick fingers started to unbutton his shirt. he helped you push it off his shoulders, then your fingers moved to his belt.
he smirked. “you’re way too good at this. how many guys have you undressed?” he teased.
you scoffed. “fuck off.”
he chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours as you worked on his belt. once it was undone, he helped you push down his pants. he stood before you, with just his boxers on.
“better?” he smirked, stepping closer to you again.
“much better” you started to unzip your dress.
his eyes followed your movements intently, darkening with desire as more of your skin was revealed. once your dress pooled at your feet, leaving you in just a lacy bra and panties, he let out a low whistle. “fuck, you’re stunning.”
“i know” you sarcastically rolled your eyes, then leaned in to kiss him again, softer this time.
he laughed at your attitude, pulling you close with one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. “cocky little thing, aren’t you?”
his hand trailed down your spine to unhook your bra. as soon as it joined your dress on the floor, he cupped your breasts possessively, palming their weight. he broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, nuzzling between them.
“panties next?” he asked, his voice muffled against your collarbone.
you nodded desperately.
he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. he knelt down in front of you, helping you step out of them. once you were completely bare, he pressed a soft kiss to your pubic bone, looking up at you with a heated gaze.
you looked down at him, the sight was heavenly, his big blue eyes watching you made him look like an angel, but what he was about to do was the complete opposite.
he smirked, knowing exactly what you were thinking. he spread your thighs slightly with his broad shoulders, his eyes dropping to your core. "god, you're already wet."
“oh so now you’re acting like it’s not your fault” you teased.
he chuckled darkly, leaning in to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your center. his tongue swiped through your folds, tasting you deeply. He looked up at you with a smirk. "oh no, i know it is my fault. I love reducing you to a needy mess."
you moaned and He licked you again, his tongue firm and purposeful as it glided over your clit. he knew exactly how to touch you to drive you crazy. he kept eye-contact, watching as your eyes fluttered shut and your head fell back, a long, low moan escaping your throat.
he knew you liked it. He could feel your legs trembling as he hooked your thighs over his shoulders, opening you up completely to his mouth. he curled his fingers into your thighs possessively as he continued to lick and suck at your most intimate flesh. "look at me,"
“fuck” you moaned, you were trying so hard to keep your eyes open and look at him, but the pleasure was too much.
he smirked at your inability to maintain eye contact, knowing exactly how good he was making you feel. he slipped one finger inside you, then another, pumping slowly while he licked circles around your clit.
“oh my god pietro” you moaned. you wish you never had said that. you moaned his name. you never called him that, it was always ‘maximoff’ or sometimes to tease him you also called him ‘sonic the hedgehog’, just to get on his nerves, but never pietro.
His eyes snapped up to yours at the sound of his name on your lips. “what did you call me?” A smug smile spread across his face as he continued to finger you slowly, his tongue never stopping its torture on your clit. "again," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "say my name again."
“pietro” you moaned again.
his breath caught at the sound, and he redoubled his efforts, wanting to hear you say it again. his fingers curved upward to stroke that sensitive spot inside you while his tongue flicked rapidly against your clit. "fucking hell... say it one more time"
“pietro” you whispered into his ear “fuck me… please”
a shudder ran through him at your whispered plea. In one fluid motion, he stood, scooping you up and laying you on the floor of the elevator, over your clothes. he quickly took off his boxers freeing his hard erection. "that's what I like to hear" he growled, positioning himself between your thighs.
his blue eyes were locked onto yours as he slowly pushed inside you, filling you completely. He paused, allowing you to feel the fullness of him inside you before slowly pulling back and thrusting forward again. he kept his pace slow and deep, his eyes never leaving yours.
“fuck-“ you moaned as he pushed into you. he placed a hand on the wall of the elevator for support as he continued to move inside you, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm. he leaned in closer, his voice husky as he whispered in your ear. "god, you're perfect."
you locked your legs around his hips, pressing him more againt you, and making him thrust faster. a low moan parted his lips as you locked your legs around him, urging him deeper. he obliged, his hips snapping forward with increased fervor. the elevator shook slightly with the force of his thrusts, adding a thrilling sensation to your passionate encounter. "fuck, yes..."
he was making you a fucking moaning mess, he was hitting every right spot repeatedly, you were trying your best to not scream his name out loud.
he could feel you getting tighter around him as you tried to muffle your moans, his name on the tip of your tongue. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer as he pounded into you, his face burying in your neck. "say it"
“oh my god pietro” you cried out. “faster!”
he growled against your neck, his fingers digging into your back as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you so hard and fast. he could feel you getting closer, your nails digging into his back, urging him on. your pussy started tightening around his cock. his breath hitched as he felt you tighten around him, knowing you were close. he thrust once, twice more, hitting that perfect spot inside you. "fuck, you're going to make me cum..." his voice was ragged, breathless, as he fucked you harder, faster.
with a loud moan you finally came, reaching the high you were chasing, it all felt too good. He let out a deep, guttural groan as you tightened around him, pulling him over the edge with you. he came hard, filling you. he continued to thrust through your orgasm, drawing out every last moment of pleasure for both of you. "holy fuck... ". he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy and sated, his face nuzzled against your neck. he could feel your heart racing against his chest, matching his own erratic beat. he slowly lifted his head to look at you, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "you okay?"
“fuck yeah, more then ok” you chuckled. he chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before rolling off of you and pulling you into his side. "we should probably get out of here before someone catches us”.
“yeah we should, and tony’s still waiting for us…” you said sitting up. he sat up with you, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "damn, tony's going to know something happened” he muttered, buttoning up his pants. "he always does."
a/n: let me know you liked it, and if you did, don't be scared to like, comment or reblog, it would really help me since this blog is new. let me know if you have any kind of request, it can be of any marvel character or more, i'm happy to write them <3
summary. backed into a corner, you’re left with no other choice than to work with a partner, pietro maximoff. when things take a turn, and the mission leaves pietro injured with yet another near death experience, you find yourself sinking slightly deeper into the vast sea that is pietro maximoff.
warnings. SLOW BURN, heavy kissing, yearning, reader has some issues expressing feelings, reader hallucinates blood on hands, one sided pining to mutual pining (pietro gets the girl), “sestra” means sister in russian, face sitting, pietro keeps you in place, oral sex (f!receiving), pietro vibrates, intense orgasm, crying pleasure, mentions of unprotected sex.
author's note. human vibrator!pietro for the fucking win !!
word count. 10,8k
The air in your lungs was being knocked out with every sharp hit on your heel as you ran steadily, drawing in breaths only for them to be stolen the very next second. Your arms were moving lazily in sync—one half forward, one half back, one half forward, one half back.
Your cheeks puffed with every exhale, nose red as a button from the sharp wind in your face making the run even more draining than it already was.
A fast zip echoed through your hair and clothing slightly, leaving a foggy trail of blue in its wake. Your running slowed, and you let out an irritated sigh knowing the track was no longer yours.
"Maximoff, Steve's gonna kill me if I don't get another lap in." You said, your annoyance clear on your tongue.
He came to a stop beside you, something that in the past would've made you jolt with surprise and even fear—but you were used to that, you were used to him.
Six months since the battle with Ultron had passed, his actions in the goal of "evolution" was turning the city of Novi Grad into a weapon of extinction. Five of those months Pietro spent in physical therapy after his carelessly stupid act of heroism.
He took several bullets both clean through and more than a few requiring surgical operation to extract them.
The aftermath was a darker period for him, the month following the incident, the month where he was struggling and barely let anyone see. He spent his mandatory week in one of S.H.I.E.L.D's advanced hospitals, the only people who he let in were Wanda and Clint.
Tony tried sending flowers, chocolates, a letter written by someone else—Pietro didn't accept any of it. He still held a hint of resentment for "earth's mightiest heroes," resentment that couldn't be scrubbed away by their actions against Ultron to protect the world.
Because where were the Avengers when his parents were killed? He knew where Stark was, aiding in making the missiles that were dropped on his home and his neighbors' homes.
That kind of resentment can never truly be scrubbed away.
You weren't close with Pietro, his disappearance didn't bother you other than the fact that the Avengers lost their only speedster for a little while, but everyone managed just fine.
Fighting alongside him with the battle of Ultron was easy, he had a goal and he stayed moving, so did you. Whereas now, Pietro doesn't have a goal besides getting out of his invisible chains that other people call physical therapy.
He was fast at everything, including healing. It was clear he didn't need the mandatory time to heal that other agents did, yet his chains were locked up tight and Fury held the key—a direct quote from the man himself.
"Oh, he'll kill you? Avengers don't do that, do they?" He asked, cocky smirk on his lips and tongue sharper than ever. "Well, not anymore."
He slowed to a normal jog beside you, mocking you without a doubt. You slowed to a stop, still breathing heavy and your face reddened from the cold. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, this is a public use track, Stark said so himself." He shrugged, and you could've sworn you saw him wink in the corner of your eye. "Why, don't want me here?" His smirk only grew, for once his legs were still—but there was a twitch in them, eager to move again.
"That's not what I'm talking about." You said flatly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. There was a whole track, covering an unmeasurable amount of ground tucked behind the compound, yet he chose to run right beside you.
He rolled his eyes, Sokovian language slipping from his lips under his breath. "You are no fun, always just dry, to-the-point. Come on, ever held a conversation longer than this with Stark? Banner? Uhm, the one with the lightning?"
Your eyes narrowed, this felt more like berating than a conversation.
"Don't give me that look, it's just… an observation." He chuckled, his arms shrugging with a hint of defense under your intense stare.
"I don't want your observations, Maximoff. If you're eager for conversation there's a room full of Avengers inside." You replied, picking your jog back up as he sighed in slight annoyance.
Pietro was insistent, you've grown to get used to that—and while he was insistent he also surprisingly patient. "You should come in soon too, you'll catch pneumonia." He said, smug gaze following you before zipping away.
The compound was dull, half the Avengers either off-world or on mission. The people that did fill the halls, were staff who kept the compound running—and then, of course, the occasional S.H.E.I.L.D agents passing through. You came back later, cold sweat sticking to your forehead and nose still reddened from the wind that beat against your face.
You wished you could say no one was around, you wished you could say Tony Stark wasn't walking past you at just the right time to catch you with a file in his hand that was already headed for you anyways.
"Hey Rudolf, out there playing reindeer games?" He asked sarcastically, patting the vanilla folder against his hand, S.H.I.E.L.D logo plastered on the front in bold black ink.
"Hey, Stark." You sighed, the words leaving your lips with a sense of expectancy—you expected a mission from him, from Nick Fury, just not the one he handed you. "You're Fury's letter man now?"
"If he can't afford me as an Avenger, he can't afford me as his assistant." There was barely a pause, "I already have one, she's gorgeous, you'll have to meet her sometime." He replied, watching you open the folder as he walked alongside you down the hallway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his ridiculously expensive suit, glancing at people passing through.
"Pepper Pots? The one that yelled at you in the public hallway outside of the meeting room for ten minutes straight last week?" You asked, matching his sarcastic tone with your own added dryness. You read through the standard text of the mission details with practiced ease, the folder bending in your grasp.
"Uh huh, that would be the one." He cleared his throat, checking his ridiculously expensive yet plain looking watch before patting your back once and turning away. "Good luck, kid."
You stopped in your tracks as you finished the file, reading Pietro's name next to yours for who this was assigned to. "Wait, Stark—" But he was already walking down the hallway, people walking by him as the back of his ironed out suit walked further and further down the hall.
A quiet groan escaped your lips, foot stomping slightly as you walked toward the meeting room, seeing Nick Fury through the clear glass walls that enclosed the meeting room—ones that seemed too clear, as if they were wiped down five times a day, seven days a week.
"What is this?" You asked sharply, interrupting the conversation between Maria and Fury without much care. "I always work alone, why am I getting partner now? Are you dumping Maximoff off on me?"
"Well, good afternoon," He responded, lips quirking up slightly as he announced your last name like he didn't just assign you a solo mission with a partner that was going to just add another shackle you had to worry about.
"If you're pushing him back into the field, why are you pushing him on me?" You asked forwardly, Maria let out a sigh as she gave Fury one last glance silently saying 'this is your problem, not mine' before making her leave.
"Your hermit habits aren't working out well for the rest of the team, this is the Avengers Initiative," He said firmly, followed by your last name. "I brought together a group of remarkable people for a reason, you are a remarkable person—but your solo attitude will not get you far here."
"You're punishing me for being able to do more work on my own than being apart of your team building exercises? I forget just how little you care about mission success rates in comparison to your Avengers Initiative." You complained, handing him the file with a hardened expression.
"You keep that file," He said, matching your tone as he stepped forward, hands clasped tightly around his back. "You are going to work with the rest of the team, I don't enjoy dealing with you and your complaints against my direct orders. Do your damn job, and do it with a man who took those bullets for you and Barton."
He walked past you before you could complain further or retort, leaving you with the mission file, an irritated expression, and a few things to think about.
It was clear in your mind that while Pietro almost died saving you, it was definitely a gesture toward Clint and the child he intended to protect—it was a dirty move from Fury, pretending like Pietro shielded you on purpose, pretending you owed Pietro anything.
It was the morning of the mission, hours before the quinjet was set to be prepared for you and Pietro—you brewed the morning roast on a machine that you only knew three buttons of the twenty displayed, the three being the only important ones to make your coffee in a way that was actually drinkable.
You didn't care, you just needed to run off of something that wasn't spite, something that you could swallow.
"It isn't time to leave yet, what are you doing awake?" Rasped a voice beside you, making you jolt slightly—so maybe you weren't entirely used to his speed, not when it's used to startle you at four in the morning.
His silver hair was messy, his roots were his natural dark brown, parts of the bleached silver in his face—his shirt was M.I.A, black sweatpants hugging his waist loosely just below his belly button. It wouldn't be Pietro if he wasn't smirking like he knew a dirty little secret every time he was near you, and was ready to make a deal to not spill.
"I'm making coffee, what does it look like I'm doing?" Your voice was a notch above a whisper, despite the thick built walls and the vast distance between people's rooms nearby.
"Looks like you're suited and up making a take-away coffee because you were planning on doing his mission solo." He called you out, bare thick biceps catching the light of the dimmed lights as he folded his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching you as if gathering more dirt to smear you with.
"That's ridiculous." You said flatly, knowing damn well that's exactly what you were planning on doing. "Your speed is half the mission."
He clicked his tongue, "You know, for an Avenger, you're quite the loner." He moved closer, arms still folded as he sat up on the counter a few feet away from you. "How'd you get wrapped into working with anyone?"
You bit down the inside of your cheek, eyes trained on mixing just enough cream in your coffee. "Nick Fury." You answered, to-the-point.
His lips quirked up, smirk pulling wider. "That's all I get?"
His accent was almost sinning, especially when dropped as low as he just did. Sokovia sure did bless him in a lot of departments.
"That's all you get, blue." You responded, spoon clanking quietly against the mug as you stirred in a few little spoons of sugar. You lifted the mug, fingers gripping the handle as you turned away from him, slowly walking toward the large spaced table.
"Blue?" He asked, smirk growing amused as his arms unfolded to casually grip the edges of the counter he was sitting on comfortably—something Tony would chew him out for if he saw.
He had to admit, he was a little offended you weren't looking at him, especially when he was lacking a top—but that was just you, a puzzle he was aching to solve for a reason he couldn't explain, he just wanted you.
You could hear every tap that his heel made against the floor of the quinjet from the rhythm of which his leg bounced. Your face pulled into grimace, glancing over at his uncontrolled knee as he scrolled through his phone.
"Do you always have to be moving?" You asked, not hiding the irritation in your tone. Twenty more minutes until you landed, just twenty, you reminded yourself.
He pulled his gaze up from the screen, taking notice of the subtlety added padded armor of your suit. Pietro couldn't help but tease, "Is that extra padding?" He asked, his voice filled with his obvious amusement.
"We're dealing with a bombs expert, Maximoff. You should go tweak your suit up a bit too." You warned, his idea of a suit was jogger pants, a compression shirt and sneakers that were bound to just combust in flames one day while he's running.
"I'll be alright, you know me." Pietro responded with a cocky tone, stretching his arm as you rolled your eyes so hard they might hurt.
"Right, what's another six months on the bench?" You replied sarcastically, admittedly a little mean. You would've saw it in the way his expression faltered if you weren't already walking past him, but he quickly cleared his throat and covered it back up faint smirk.
His back straightened against the cold metal behind him, the rumbling in the quinjet faint from the slight turbulence in the air. He glanced over as you were distracted in conversation with Agent Coulson, who was operating the quinjet. Pietro let out a quiet sigh and popped his earbuds into his ears for the remainder of the ride.
"Honestly, could you be any slower?" He asked through the communications device snuggled into your ear, his tone was clearly teasing, maybe even a little annoyed that you didn't have his abilities.
You were slowly crawling through the vents above, sneakily quiet to not make any denting sounds and draw attention from below. All you saw below you were empty dark halls, faint glows of green from the fluorescent lights that needed maintenance.
When you didn't answer, when you couldn't answer, he teased more. "You're dragging this out, plant it already." He mockingly groaned, voice starting to static.
You continued to ignore his whining, finally reaching the access point where you could hear people speaking from below.
Scientists dressed in neat white coats, one wearing a patterned button up underneath like he was a pharmacist, and probably carried around pictures of his family in his wallet because the long hours kept him away from them. His hair was brown, balding in the center from stress.
His voice was hushed, as if talking about someone or something he knew was wrong, but only felt safe to talk about it with the other man. The one on the left with pure gray, slicked back hair and a pen hanging loosely from his coat pocket, patted the nervous brown haired man on the shoulder. "Do your job, the sooner we get done with this the better. I'm sure your kids are missin' you, huh? How old is Nathan now, four? Five? Feels like he just had his second birthday."
It was a threat disguised as small talk, even masked with a gentle parenting sound of voice, something that made a bead of sweat roll down his temple. "Yes, he's four." He answered, nodding as the more composed man walked away with the last word,
"Don't make me regret adding you this project, William."
You stared down at the interaction from above, silent and hidden behind shadows and the linear metal bars of the vent. A bad feeling lingered in your gut, and in the back of your mind you knew Fury wasn't being completely straight forward about what type of mission this was.
It wasn't out of the ordinary for Nick Fury to lie to you, to withhold the truth because you didn't need to know the details to get the job done. All you and Pietro needed to do was plant spyware throughout the building, watch from afar, do not interfere.
Usually you asked every question you needed to know, but you were too wrapped up in being given a partner—too aggravated that it was Pietro—to grill Fury for the information he withheld from the mission files.
Of course, your entire personality got under Fury's skin—you were direct, quiet, judgmental, distrusting, you needed full files before even touching a mission. Yet you were the only one with mission success rates that should've earned you metals. You were the only one who knew how to get a job done securely, alone.
It started last year when Clint was injured, he went on leave for a few weeks at his farm off the grid with his family—one that was off the books and untraceable, it was safe and secure. Because of his leave, Natasha needed a fill in, Fury gave her you.
It took a good minute, but you were a lot like Natasha, you reminded her of herself in some ways. It didn't take long for you to surprisingly not hate being paired with someone, you and Natasha actually became kind of close after that.
The decision to pair you with Pietro seemed intentional, but reasonable for what the mission actually required—yet the feeling in your gut didn't go away, and the conversation you just witnessed only amplified that.
You bent your knee, moving to turn around once the device was hooked securely into the wall, just close enough to pick up anything in that hall. The vent was small, small enough that Pietro couldn't fit through it, yet alone use his abilities in it.
You were a bit smaller than Pietro, with the agility and skill set to get in and get out silently without leaving a trace behind except the device. This left Pietro to camp outside, speaking through the ear comm with his impatient rambling that you did your best to ignore.
When you pulled yourself up from the vent and up onto the roof, he was already standing above you with an arrogant grin plastered on his lips. "All done?"
You stood up, dusting off your legs before locking the vent cover back into place. "Of course it is." You replied quietly, twisting the screws back into place with gloves covering any prints. "You cut out the cameras?"
"Of course I did." He mocked cockily, leg twitching slightly from standing still too long. "And I'll put them back up like nothing even happened."
"Good." You said, turning to face him. It was done in an instant, his arm under your knees, other arm securing around your torso before you could protest.
Before you could fully process anything, you were down where Pietro was camped out, away from the building and on solid ground behind a group of trees. You shoved him off, not enough to hurt just enough to separate you. "Don't do that without a warning." You said sharply, your stomach feeling like it just flipped over.
He held his arms up in defense, but his smirk was definitely not apologetic. "You take far too long, I was just trying to speed up the process."
"Not everything is about speed, Maximoff, especially stealth missions." You warned, eyes narrowing at him as his smirk never faltered.
"I love when you're all bossy."
"I love when you're quiet."
He stared at you for a moment, smirk softening slightly before he pulled his gaze back to the building, "I'm going to reconnect the cameras, stay here."
Your lips parted, a warning to be careful dying on them because he was already gone—silence swallowing him and leaving a trail of blue in his absence.
It had been a few seconds, which was already enough for him to do what he needed to do considering his powers. Anxiety started to pool in your stomach, mixed with the former feeling of it flipping from before.
You started up at the building, looking for any sign of him, any of his blue trail that he leaves behind, but nothing. You reached up to your ear, talking into it. "Maximoff?" You asked.
Nothing. Radio silence.
"Maximoff what's going on?" You asked again, voice growing firmer to mask any shakiness deep within it.
And that was when the side of the building burst into a hot explosion, the top wing smoking from the flames that formed once you slowly stood back up from your ducted position upon hearing the blast.
You stared in shock, your heart dropping to your knees and your stomach feeling like a black hole. Despite the frozen and crippling feeling, your feet were moving on their own—running around behind the trees for cover but making your way towards the exploded wing with urgency.
In this moment, Pietro didn't feel like a partner you were forced to have, one that you couldn't care less about—he felt like a partner you didn't know was alive or dead, and it scared the shit out of you.
That's when you saw him, groaning and breathing heavy behind a stump, bleeding from his leg and his suit dusted with explosion residue and various scrapes.
"You idiot!" You whisper yelled, dropping to his side to help him up as he winced.
"That wasn't me." He breathed heavily, "It wasn't." He said, looking over at you with a form of genuine sincerity you've never seen before. Like he was begging for you to believe him, like he was confused and even scared after almost catching the full impact of that explosion.
You stared at him for a moment, his arm being held over your shoulders to steady him as you supported him. "I believe you." You said after a moment, then moving. "But we need to go, now."
He was perched up on the stool of the hotel room by the kitchen island, back resting against the wall as you were washing the dirt out of his scrapes and wounds. His compression shirt was off, his pants along with them, both on the coffee table waiting to be stitched up.
He was in his dark blue boxers, his expression was blank and he wasn't talking to you—something that was unusual and out of character for him. You've always wanted him to shut up for a while, but this was completely different. All you wanted was just one cocky smirk or flirty comment, something normal, something like him—but he remained silent.
Hesitantly breaking the silence, you decided to speak up with a softened tone, treading lightly. "Are you alright?"
Pietro didn't answer right away, just lifting his gaze from your hands patching him up to your face. "I didn't do it." He repeated quietly.
You paused your movements, shifting your gaze up at him. "I know, you said that already." You reminded, swallowing. "I asked if you're alright, Pietro."
He let out a quiet sigh, eyes dropping down to his scrape you were just washing. "I don't know." He answered, his voice was raw and raspy, like for once he was out of that shell of cocky smirks and flirty egotistical comments. He was raw, vulnerable. "I almost died again, not really a great feeling."
A beat of silence passed as you smoothed a bandage over a deep scrape that you just rinsed the dirt off of, then you stood up from your seat and tossed him some pain killers in an unlabeled bottle.
He raised an eyebrow, staring back at you like you just tossed him something illegal, making you roll your eyes.
"Relax, they're what S.H.I.E.L.D gave me after I broke my leg. They give you more of a supply than regular hospitals, I had some left over." You sighed, seeing him relax a little bit as you turned to put away the aid kit you pulled out for him.
"Easier way to make you an addict." He commented sarcastically, putting the bottle on the table like they were sugar pills. "I heal fast, I'll be fine within a few days."
You inhaled softly, sighing it out as you sat back down in the chair next to him. "I bet a few of our bugs got knocked out, we'll check back in with Fury before moving forward. Especially with that explosion."
"I was running, I didn't hit a trip wire or anything… the whole side wing just blew I couldn't escape it fully." He explained, you could tell in his voice he held a hint a shame in it, being as fast as he is and still being injured was definitely a smack to his ego.
You hummed, chin resting on your fist with a bit of hesitation on your tongue. "I don't think Fury was completely forthcoming about this mission."
His eyes lifted to yours, ears perking up. "What, you're saying he has some ulterior motive to get us killed?" He asked, his expression already growing into a look of betrayal.
"No," You answered quickly, holding his gaze. "But I don't think everything was as simple as he made it out to be, he has a habit of… not giving you the full picture, giving you just an inch enough to do your job and not ask questions. At least, that's been my experience with him."
Although his expression relaxed, he was still visibly irritated with the way his vein on his neck was more prominent than it usually is, his eyebrows more narrowed and his eyes holding direct contact with a sense of seriousness you'd never really expect from him. "He sounds like a dick to you."
"You all kind of are." You answered bluntly, "That's what working for S.H.I.E.L.D is most of the time, putting up with dicks."
He let out a breathy chuckle, sitting up slightly to avoid hurting himself further. "I could use a drink while these heal, there's a mini bar downstairs, I saw it on the welcome board." He smirked, feet planting into the ground as he stood tall like he wasn't still actively bleeding into clean bandages.
You folded your arms, head tilting up slightly to look him in the eye. "I thought you couldn't get drunk, with your powers. Like Steve."
"What? Who told you that?" He asked, his smirk growing cocky just as he always is. "Of course I can get drunk, it just… takes a lot. I'm expensive." He walked past you, snagging his shirt off the coffee table and noticing all the holes and cuts in it.
He muttered Sokovian curse words under his breath, huffing as he set it back down.
"Use this as a lesson that a set of joggers clothing as a suit isn't practical, Maximoff." You said, teasing him dryly as you walked out of the hotel room and let the door shut behind you.
You had spent a few minutes alone, you ordered a beer for yourself and found a booth for when Pietro decided to come down, hopefully not still in his underwear.
When you started drafting a message to Nick Fury, Pietro sat down in front of you with a defeated thump as he connected down on the cushion of the booth. He was wearing a gray hoodie that was a size too big for him, the neck worn and loose showing his collarbones, and then a pair of regular jeans.
"What are you wearing?" You asked, holding back a slight laugh at the image in front of you.
"Be quiet, alright? This is all I found in the lost and found bin out back. I couldn't exactly come down in my boxers." He gruffed, sliding your beer from you and taking a big sip of it.
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes in amusement, smile pulling on your lips as you held back your laugh. Your heard her before you saw her, a younger waitress with her hair slicked in a bun, coming up beside you with an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had another person joining you! Can I get you two our couple's special? It's 50% any drinks and your choice of two appetizers." The waitress smiled, holding menu's under her arms as the black apron with a few cleaning stains hugged her waist.
"Oh, uhm, no—"
"It's okay, my love. Yes, we'd love that." He interrupted, smile on his face as he reached over to place his hand on top of yours with a light squeeze.
You gave him a confused, irked glance as the waitress nodded and placed menus on the table for you. "I'll let you two look those over and I'll be back in a moment." She said before departing back to the bar.
"Just when we have a friendly moment, you have to ruin it." You complained, pulling your hand away from his as if it burned. He laughed under his breath, genuine but breathy from the pain in his ribs.
"Ruining it by getting us 50% off drinks and a good deal on food? I told you, darling, I'm expensive." He replied cockily, opening the menu and scanning down the options as his tongue darted out to wet his top lip.
You rolled your eyes, sighing under your breath as you finally picked up the other menu and looked down at it with a frown pulling on your lips.
Pietro peeked up from his menu, when you were reading, subtly appreciating the way you pouted a little whenever you frowned, the way your eyes were lazily reading—probably only really looking at the pictures of the food.
Cute, he thought.
Your laugh was unyielding, Pietro clearly drunk on the countless drinks he ordered and rambling on about his little sister's love for classic sitcoms and how it used to annoy him when his parents would indulge her with them over his choice of action movies.
His stories were all over the place, almost incomprehensible the way his mind was moving too fast for his lips to catch up.
You we're secretly adoring it though, the way he was loose and not masked by his cockiness like he usually was, he was genuinely himself with the aid of alcohol.
There were six empty beers beside you, you drank all of them while listening to him and holding the conversation a little bit yourself—but weirdly enough you enjoyed listening to him, even if there were times you couldn't tell when one story ended and another began.
Then, he let out a long sigh and slumped back in his seat. "I want a dog." He said randomly, making you chuckle under your breath at the pout on his lips.
"What kind of dog?" You questioned, fingers wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle as you brought it to your lips, taking a smooth swig.
"The little loud ones, the one that looks like a little lion. So cute." He muttered into his own drink, making you press your lips together to keep from laughing as you set your beer down on the napkin in front of you, fingers falling to the bottom of the bottle in a loose grip.
He drew in a breath, sighing it out as he glanced back at the waitress. "It's wearing off, I need another drink."
"I thought you could drink normally." You smirked faintly, making him chuckle under his breath.
"Alright, smart ass. Maybe I have a little problem with staying drunk for as long as someone like you can." He retorted, head tilting as he focused back on you.
The way the light hit your face, the way the colors and decor in the room made your hair look even more beautiful than it already did. He could stare at you for hours, or as long as you'd let him, really.
You'd never really let loose like this yourself either, smiling and laughing at whatever thoughts or stories spilled from his lips with help by his liquid courage.
"You're so beautiful." He spoke, his voice a little too quiet to be just another flirty comment.
"You're drunk, Pietro." You countered, holding his gaze as your smirk rested into a faint smile.
"Maybe, but it's wearing off. You're still beautiful." He looked at you like you were something to treasure from a distance, like he put you in a glass shelf and was just honored to be able to admire you from here.
You inhaled softly, "Maximoff—"
"Don't start that again." He groaned, rolling his eyes as he smirked faintly, looking down at the bit of liquor in his glass. He watched it swirl as he tilted it around, fingers gripping the glass loosely.
"Start what?"
"Calling me Maximoff. You've been calling me Pietro, and now, you're gonna go back to hiding behind that stoic little voice you do all the time, masking yourself." He said, hitting the nail on the coffin and making you swallow.
"You're looking into it too much." You said, the dryness coming back into your tone.
He sighed, setting the glass on the table after downing the last bit of tequila he was swirling around in it. "Well, game recognizes game." His blue eyes lock onto yours, keeping you here, making you unable to look away and change the subject.
"You don't know anything about me, Pietro. Stop trying to act like you do." You said flatly, taking a small wad of cash from your wallet and tossing it on the middle of the table as you stood up. "Thanks for the stories."
He let you walk away with a quiet expression, not turning his head as you walked past him. He drew in a breath and sighed it out, letting his eyes close as he lightly banged his head down on the table in a defeated, tired gesture. "Great." He muttered to himself.
Wanda's angry voice overpowered everyone in the meeting room, the glass walls were see-through, but the voices were muffled—the staff outside definitely seeing the argument but not hearing it.
"You almost got him killed!" She shouted, standing in protest as Steve Rogers nodded silently in support as his were arms folded comfortably in his seat.
"She's right, Pietro could've died in that explosion and you didn't think to mention that you had an inside man go rogue?" Steve added, making Wanda exhale sharply and sit back down in her seat.
Nick Fury was dead silent, hands clasped behind his back as usual as he stood front and facing the table of Avengers that he was definitely not on friendly terms with at the moment.
You sat nearby, silently observing as Pietro was smirking next to Wanda, amused by his sister's outrage and defiance of Fury himself.
Clint cleared his throat, sitting up slightly to plant his elbows on the meeting table. "He's a quick little bastard, the only reason he even escaped the direct impact of the bomb your guy set off."
"Alright, firing squad, that's enough" Tony Stark sighed, hand coming off his temple from where it previously rested as everyone got their anger out. "Obviously, this wasn't planned. What I wanna know is why her and Pietro weren't even told about the inside guy."
Nick Fury finally spoke up, when the room was silent and everyone's attention was on him. "There wasn't enough time." He started, making you scoff and roll your eyes from afar.
"That is such bullshit—"
"I'm not finished," He interrupted sharply, his hand holding up his pointer finger in your direction making you bite the inside of your cheek. "He was never an inside man from the beginning, he was a man we were keeping an eye on—someone we thought could be a double agent, he had potential for it. He had he had a good family he was eager to get back to, and most importantly he knew what they were building was wrong. We barely got a response from him before he took matters into his own hands and blew himself up with that explosion."
Everyone was listening intently, your gaze was on everyone else. You knew it had to be the brown haired man you overheard, the hesitation you heard from him, the defeated sigh when the other man mentioned his family.
"Pietro made it out alive, that's your victory. I'll take care of the rest." Nick Fury said, clearly ending the conversation there as he turned to Maria Hill who switched her tablet to her other hand and opened the door for him to take his leave.
"Dick." Pietro muttered under his breath, standing up as everyone exchanged glances and shrugged—this was over, for now.
You grabbed your jacket from off the back of the chair, standing up and walking out after everyone else who was leaving. Clint and Natasha stayed behind near the coffee pot to talk with each other.
Before you could grab the door, a flash of blue had already done it for you, standing by the door with a cheeky grin. "After you."
"Thanks," You said, flashing him an awkward glance before walking out of the room. He followed behind you, just as you knew he would, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"You know, I know this really cool place above the compound where the stars shine even brighter." He offered, his voice almost so eager it sounded sing-song.
"Above the compound? So the roof?" You asked, glancing to your side where he was walking in sync with you.
"Whatever, english isn't for everyone." He dismissed sarcastically, "Come on, just let me take you tonight, you can rub it in my face if I'm wrong."
You rolled your eyes, faint smile pulling at the corner of your lips before you sighed and nodded. "I guess." You said, making him stop and smile as he watched you continue to walk past him.
"Pick you up at ten!" He called after you, but you didn't turn back, just noted it and continued walking down the hall.
The sound of running water from your facet filled your room, your bathroom door open as it always usually was—after all you were the only one occupying the space. You washed your face for the night, rinsing off your hands as the water steamed from the temperature.
You stared down at the hot water turning your hands slightly red as you mindlessly scrubbed your hands. When you blinked, for a split second you saw blood on them—a hallucination, making you freeze in place before you realized it wasn't and you realized it was your mind playing tricks on you.
You shook your hands off, letting the drops of water splash on the sink's vanity before picking up the towel and drying your face, hands, then wiping it along the granite surface.
A silent sigh escaped your lips as you heard the knock, eyes closing in a moment of reluctance to go forward with plans you promised the bleached silver haired man standing outside your bedroom door.
Despite that, you pushed yourself out of the bathroom and opened your bedroom door. "It's not ten yet." You reminded him sarcastically as he just rolled his eyes, eyes dropping to the redness of your hands—well, the one he could see.
"Playing in hot water?" He asked, playful cocky smirk pulling on his lips. You shrugged, grabbing your jacket off the hook and closing your door behind you.
You followed behind him, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets as you got into the elevator behind him. It was quiet, he had his smile on his face that said 'I'm planning something, you're gonna love it.'
He hummed along quietly to the soft music playing through the elevator. Something that made you let out a breath of amusement, "Since when did Stark add music in this?"
"Since Steve suggested it." He quipped, making you laugh under your breath, "That's why all the songs are… old."
The elevator dinged, reaching the roof as the doors opened and revealed what Pietro was all smiles about.
The walkway was lit with candles, battery operated ones—which you chuckled softly at upon noticing. Flower petals were littered on the ground, leading to a blanket with wine and a small basket of sandwiches and snacks.
He followed in behind you, purposely moving slow as he watched your expression and movement with a soft smile.
"This… seems like a date." You spoke up, taking in everything he set up, then glancing back at him.
"What? This? No, I do the same for Barton all the time. We have little dates up here every Thursday." He responded sarcastically, making you exhale a breathy laugh, staring down at the flower petals that trailed to the blanket.
"Would it be so bad if it was a date?" He spoke up after your silence, making you glance up at him, your smile faltering slightly when you noticed he was serious. "You know, if I was into you." He finished, walking over to the blanket on the ground and sitting down on it.
You were stunned by the sudden confession, lips almost parting as you stood there with your feet planted in the ground. "If you were?" You asked, swallowing as you forced your legs to move, coming to sit across from him.
A genuine smile pulled on his lips as he was pulling out sandwiches from the basket, glancing up at you as you sat down in front of him. It wasn't cocky, it wasn't egotistical, it was pure admiration and sincerity. "That's my way of saying I'm into you,"
The way your last name fell from his lips was like no one ever said it before, it wasn't formal or used to address you like an agent—it was just your name, from his mouth, in this moment.
"Yeah, I gathered." You responded, masking your internal flustered feelings with humor. "I shut you down last time, at the bar. Why are you still trying?"
He let a beat of silence pass, taking a bite of the sandwich that was cut into a triangle, missing it's crust that was also cut off. He chewed it slowly, as if thinking of a good response. "I have patience." He responded after swallowing.
"No you don't." You replied, a huff leaving your lips as you grabbed the other slice of the sandwich, making his lips pull into a smile.
"For you, I do."
Once the words left his mouth it almost knocked the air out of your lungs, he said it like he was so sure, like knew exactly what he wanted. It was almost admirable, his confidence and his determination to have you, yet it scared you at the same time.
You weren't fortunate enough to be sure of your feelings, what you felt for Pietro was different in it's own way, something that also scared you in it's own way too.
Love was a terrifying thing, and the culprit was sitting right across from you, staring at you with his stormy eyes and soft smirk that was just so him.
"But you aren't the sentimental type," He muttered softly, "I get that."
You swallowed, staring down at the sandwich you held in your grasp before slowly taking a bite. Your lack of response just made his lips twitch in a faint smirk.
"And what? You like women like that?" You asked, dryly sarcastic as you chewed your bite, the taste of cheese and ham lingered in your mouth with each slow jaw movement.
"I like you. I like challenging women." He replied with a cocky smirk, picking up the wine from the basket. "That's why I asked around for your favorite flavor of this gunky grape juice." He said, leaning back after he pulled it out.
You huffed out a laugh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "I doubt anyone knows—"
"Mr. Stark did."
You paused, pressing your lips together softly and looking down at the wine bottle. "You know, you think you're not welcome here, but everyone always speaks with respect about you." He said quietly, his teasing voice softened into sincerity.
Your eyes flickered up to meet his, watching him pour some of the wine into a small glass. "Thank you." You said, voice quiet with a hint of softness that made Pietro want to lean into it.
He hummed, setting the wine aside as he moved the basket along with it. He scooted closer to you, picking up a remote from his back pocket to shut off the battery operated candles. Everything was dark around you, making you open your mouth to complain before he chuckled and pointed up at the bright stars above you.
Your lips parted again, out of amazement—he was right, the stars were beautiful and bright, a few patterns in them like clouds. Pietro wasn't really focused on them, he'd seen them before countless times up here—ever since he first moved in. He was focused on you, only you.
And when you finally glanced over at him, his lips were already pressing against yours. Your eyebrows raised, but your eyes closed as you let him kiss you. It felt good—it felt warm despite the night air, his lips felt big against yours, his light facial hair tickled your skin lightly.
Your hand came to the side of his face, kissing him deeper as you pushed yourself closer into him. He hummed into the kiss, like he's living in a dream and he doesn't wanna open his eyes and wake up, risking your disappearance.
His large hands found your waist, pulling you closer as he brushed his tongue against yours. You pulled apart softly, keeping increasingly close as you crawled on top of him, making him lean back.
"You're so hot above me…" He murmured, leaning up to kiss your again but you stopped, making him pause as well while resting on his elbows. "What? What's wrong?"
"Tell me you want me." You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, something low and sensual that went straight to his cock.
"You're all I want." He replied, all breathy and needy with his touch on your waist and hips.
You smirked softly down at him, leaning down and capturing his lips in a deep kiss that sucked the breath out of him. A groan vibrated from his throat, his hands running up your waist—pushing your shirt up with it.
Pulling you both from your heated trance, the door to the rooftop jiggled, someone trying open it but Pietro placed a door stopper directly in front of it.
"Pietro? Do you have the door stopper in front of this again?" Wanda's Sokovian accent rang from behind the door. He didn't zip away, didn't pull himself from you, just watched with a frown as you straightened yourself up and settled yourself a few feet away from him as if you weren't just on top of him. "I know you're out here, you weren't in your room."
He sighed and zipped over to the door, leaving his usual trail of blue behind him. His cocky grin flashed from the few inches he pulled the door open, not letting her fully see him or the set up on the roof. "Sestra? Need something?"
Her foot stopped just as it was about to step in, being blocked by him, "Are you alright?" She asked, eyebrow raising. She asked something else—something Sokovian that you couldn't fully understand, but something along the lines of 'The roof isn't your room.'
"Duh, just stargazing. Don't tell Stark, okay?" Pietro grinned slightly, cheek leaning against the doorframe with the door still barely cracked enough for his head to peek through.
Wanda seemed to realize he wasn't alone, and the idea made her groan internally and roll her eyes with a exasperated sigh leaving her lips. She turned around and walked down the stairs, her long black skirt swaying with her steps.
Pietro had already shut the door, when he turned back to you, you were already standing up as if the date was over. "Woah, where are you going?" He asked, hands throwing up in a half sarcastic frustration.
"Pietro, if that door stopper wasn't there, Wanda would've walked in on me topping her twin brother…" You rolled your eyes, grabbing your phone that slipped from your pocket off of the blanket.
He pressed his lips together, knowing better than to argue when you want to leave. "Okay." He sighed through his nose, his tone wasn't sarcastic or cocky, it almost sounded defeated. "So, you're leaving then?"
You sighed as you walked by him slowly, your hand running up his arm and pulling him along with you so casually it made his heart leap. "No, we're leaving. Show me your room."
His eyes lit up like a chandelier, the subtle tent in his pants growing tighter at the surge going through his body right now—not one from running or adrenaline, one from excitement and arousal.
Your back hit the dark blue sheets of his bed, bouncing slightly as he leaned in to tower right on top of you, kissing you slowly with a hint of lust fueled hunger as his hand roamed up and down your side. Your lips parted as he squeezed your ass firmly, giving him an opportunity to push his tongue inside your mouth softly, sensually.
"Piet." You sighed softly into the kiss, bordering on a moan from how his hands were all over you in ways you've never fully experienced before.
That fueled him even more, smirking into the kiss as he trailed it down your jaw with open mouthed, needy kisses until he reached your neck. His face buried in it, his hand coming to hold the other side of your neck and face in place as he made out with the sensitive skin.
"I like it when you call me that." He murmured into your skin, making you pull your legs up the bed slightly, your knees bending beneath him. He slowly slid his hand down, pushing your thigh up further as he pulls up off of you for a moment to strip off his shirt.
He felt burning hot under your gaze, those pretty eyes watching his every move with intensity that made his cock stir. You usually had an intense stare, this was different—darkened with lust, clouded with desire.
He leaned back down, head tilting to kiss you deeper while his bare arms were planted on each side of you, caging you beneath his cut, muscular body. You knew what he looked like, you've patched him up before in just his boxers—yet this was different, it felt so hot.
Especially now, when his body pressed firmly against yours, pushing you deeper into the mattress under his weight making you let out a breath of pleasure, legs lifting to wrap around his waist.
Once you got a good leg lock, you flipped him over and leaned up, straddling him as you ran your hands down his chest and ab muscles. He was breathing heavy, lips reddened slightly from kissing—staring up at you with clouded, stormy blue eyes.
His bleached silver hair strands fell in his face, and he lifted his hand to push his fingers through them, guiding the hair out of his eyes as he watched you lean down and kiss on his chest and collar bone.
"I have something really cool to show you," He smirked down at you, eyes following as you sat back up—still straddling his waist with your legs as you hummed, leaning down into him slightly as your arm kept you up above him. "First you gotta sit on my face." He breathed, cocky smirk never leaving his face.
You huffed out a laugh, breathy and genuine. "If that's what you want, sure." You murmured, lips just barely inches apart as you spoke against them before capturing them again. "
He hummed, kissing you back before sitting up under you and breaking the kiss, his arm snaking to wrap around your waist. "Trust me, I can take it." He whispered lowly, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. "And so can you."
The decision was already made, and you found yourself almost fully naked above him with your lace bra still containing your breasts for now, he was eager to taste you and the bra could always be removed later.
His biceps caged your thighs down, keeping you from pulling off of him as you hovered above him, glancing down at him once more. You could feel every sharp line in his arm muscles against your thighs, and it was making you wetter—making your slicked cunt shine when it caught the light, something only he could admire and see right under you.
"God, you're fucking beautiful." Were his last words before slowly dragging his tongue up your folds, wetting up his tongue even more with your slick like a sponge.
Your nails dug into the headboard, forced to stay right where you were from his biceps keeping your thighs down on him. A breathy moan escaped your lips, feeling his tongue drag up and move firm, slow circles around your clit.
After a few more good circles, he let out a satisfied sigh and pulled his tongue away to speak. "Wanna see that cool thing now?" He asked lowly, glancing up at you with a damped lower face and an eager smirk on his slightly swollen lips.
"That wasn't it?" You asked, half sarcastically as he just huffed a chuckle, pulling you back down into him with ease.
He dragged his tongue up your folds again, dipping it inside you with unyielding firmness. You let out a soft breath, hips trying to grind but he kept your thighs locked in the grip of his big biceps without mercy.
It was definitely something you didn't expect, something you didn't know he could do, or even believe was possible—not until his tongue started fucking vibrating inside of you.
You gasped, thighs clamping together around his face as a pathetic moan escaped your lips before you could contain it. It didn't feel like anything you've ever felt before, it was pure, raw, fast vibrations of his wet muscle that pushed as deep as it could go inside of you—which was surprisingly deep.
"Oh, fuck, Pietro." You whined, leaning your forehead on your arms against the headboard, hips squirming slightly but Pietro didn't let you go anywhere.
You were exactly where he wanted you, and he wouldn't stop until you came for him again, and again, and again. He wouldn't stop until you were so fucked out, so purely his and adorably drained. He had a strong fantasy of you like that, he needed to make it happen. He needed to satisfy you until every other touch that wasn't his was mediocre and even laughable.
He glanced up at you, his tongue never slowing, never stopping it's brutal vibrating speed as it pumped in and out of you.
You lasted all of thirty seconds before you were practically crying, orgasm washing over you with an intensity that you didn't think were possible, thighs tight and begging to squirm away but he kept you right there. He kept you right on top of him, milking you for every last second of your sweet bliss.
Your eyes were embarrassingly watery, you could feel the mess between your legs that soaked the bottom half of Pietro's face—but he seemed to be in heaven, still softly dragging his tongue along your mess to clean you up with a slow, normal speed.
"Mm, I love sweet tastes." He rasped once his biceps let you go and you moved off of him to collapse beside him, licking his lips as if to savor what he milked from you.
You were still breathing heavy, forehead glistening with sweat as you laid your cheek against the pillow out of pure exhaustion.
He sucked the life right out of you.
"How did you know you could do that?" You asked, watching him get up with ease to grab a hand towel towel from his bathroom and come back out, bare feet on the wood flooring of his room. He wiped his face with a laugh under his breath, walking closer to you.
"Wanna see what else I can make vibrate?" He asked lowly, dipping his knee into the mattress just below you and crawling up to you. Your eyes followed him, legs closing under him as he towered over you, sinningly sweet smirk always tugging on his lips.
"What else can you make vibrate?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper as he leaned close into you, lips hovering just over yours. You sounded almost needy for it, in a way that he's never heard you sound before—it only worked him up even more.
"Anything you want, baby." He answered lowly, capturing your lips in a stimulating and slow kiss, like he was trying to pour his passion into you—his love, even.
Because Pietro loves you, this wasn't just sex for him, he'd never been more intrigued and eager for anyone's attention as he is with you. He would wait before saying it, afraid to scare you, afraid to force you into a corner with all his affection.
For now, he'd settle for this, settle for whatever you wanted from him—he'd settle for giving you everything you wanted as long as you kept looking at him like you did when you were fucked out and comically soaked from how many orgasms he could milk from you in a single night.
He adored how you looked in his bed, moaning his name and crying from the pleasure he was able to give you. He never thought his fantasy would come true like this, almost every night he got to have you like this and he still couldn't believe it was real life.
Being able to use his powers to get the girl made Pietro's heart melt, every time you gripped him like a vice when you shook from your orgasm he was pulling out of you with his thick, raw, vibrating cock that was hitting you so fucking deep you were seeing white more than you were seeing his room, or him.
But, again, this wasn't just about the sex for Pietro—despite it being really fucking good and borderline addicting, you both actually managed to come to terms with your feelings for each other. The roof date was just the first, one that kick started the rest like a domino effect.
Pietro would plan sweet, cute dates—have everything set up within seconds to perfection. When it was cold outside on a walk, he zipped back to the compound and grabbed your favorite throw blanket all within the same minute. He would do anything for you, all you had to do was name it.
But for him, it was a completely different feeling of melting when you'd surprise him with date. You weren't as fast as him, you couldn't set everything up and plan dates all in the time thirty seconds it took him.
So when you planned things for him, when you took the time and made sure he knew he was loved, it cracked something inside of him in the best way possible, letting out a shining light that filled him with warmth inside.
At times it felt embarrassing, even a little ridiculous just how much he cared for you, how much he loved you, how he noticed every little thing about you and all your tells.
He could tell when you nervous in Avengers meetings, your hands had a slight tremble in them that he'd stare at softly from across the large table.
He could tell when you were hungry, you would stand and walk around the common area looking like you were getting killing time, getting ready for a mission but really you were just debating on actually grabbing a snack or not.
He could tell when you were lying, you couldn't look him in the eyes for too long and you went back to using that dryness in your voice that you always had with everyone else.
The other Avengers would play dumb for a long time, knowing damn well you both cared for each other and were involved beyond anything related to S.H.I.E.L.D or the team. It wasn't a secret like you thought it was, in fact it was known but never really spoken too much about.
Not until Vison mentioned something about dating, and asked Pietro for advice as he was busy toasting some bread for a midnight BLT. Vison couldn't outwardly ask about Wanda, he knew that was Pietro's sister, and he would most likely anger Pietro by insinuating he had romantic feelings for Pietro's sister—at least he was being respectful, still learning and all.
"My advice on dating?" Pietro asked, raising an eyebrow, "Why would you come to me for that?" He wasn't glancing back to Vison, just simple spreading his tomatoes along the sourdough bread slice he stole out of Tony's bin in the fridge.
Vison paused, blinking as if trying to understand why Pietro was blatantly lying. Considering there were no rules or enforcements of dating a fellow Avenger, Vison thought maybe it was more of a moral thing. "Well, because you're having relations with…"
Pietro's hands froze just before smushing the sandwich down to flatten it together, glancing over at Vison with his lips falling slightly parted. "I—What?"
"Well I thought you must've known that everyone knows about the relationship, I thought… maybe you could help me, with the feelings of it all." Vison said, glancing down occasionally to half avoid Pietro's direct, confused eye contact.
"It's not a secret, no." Pietro answered, a sigh leaving his lips as he folded his arms, his hip leaning against the counter. "But I didn't expect everyone to know about it and just be a coven of silence." He said sarcastically.
"Know about what?" Clint asked, strutting by into the kitchen in full suit and gear just to grab a muffin off the glass boxed shelf—a small, barely noticeable giddy smile pulling on his lips when he saw there was just one chocolate chip muffin left for him.
"My dating life." Pietro huffed, arms still folded and a small pout on his bottom lip.
"Did you want a cake and a party for getting a girlfriend?" Clint replied with a widening smirk, watching Pietro part his lips to answer but immediately having nothing to retort. "Should we have all signed a card for you two?"
"No—but, it would've been nice to know I could've kiss her in public and not have tomatoes thrown at me by Mr. Stark." He rolled his eyes, making Clint swallow his bite of his muffin before speaking up again.
"Has Tony actually thrown tomatoes at you before? Like whole tomatoes?" He asked, clearly poking fun at him, making Pietro groan internally and lazily grab his plate, walking away from them.
You couldn't help but laugh under your breath, continuing to comb through your hair for the night as Pietro laid on your bed like a slumped, defeated child. "They all knew, baby. I could've been kissing you in the halls, fucking you on the roof—"
"Calm down, Piet." You rolled your eyes, sitting up as the comb clanked slightly against the surface of your bathroom sink. "While I find it really cute you wanna do all that, we work here. And that roof top is crawling in dirt and grime, I am not taking my pants off up there."
You walked closer to the bed, his arms opening on their own to welcome you as he sat up slightly. You straddled his waist lazily, comfortably. "Need to keep up your ice queen persona with everyone? Can't let them know you like your boyfriend?" He asked with a slightly playful frown, staring up at you with his chin resting between your breasts.
"It's not that." You muttered softly, hands coming to gently caress his face. "I need them to respect me, I can't let the idea get in their heads that I can't get a mission done if I'm dating someone."
He hummed, resting his forehead against your chest. "I guess you're right." He replied, voice slightly muffled. You rubbed his back in smooth circles glancing down at the top of his head.
"At least we don't feel like we're keeping anything secret anymore, because it never really was a secret, they all knew." You chuckled your breath, mostly just air.
He smiled faintly, leaning back to look up at you. His eyes had a glint in them, eyebrows knitted only slightly as if he was admiring you, as if he was looking up at an angel. Then, the three words that were never really fully addressed fell from his lips with the softest of ease.
"I love you."
It seemed crazy, so many dates and a couple months of going out and yet those three words were never fully said to each other yet—so you paused slightly, still staring down at him and studying the look in his expression as if you were on a mission, forced to read someone's ulterior movies and thoughts. All you read from him was pure love and adoration.
It made you smile softly, leaning in and pressing your lips into his, head tilted slightly to avoid his nose. It was almost still, passionate, and a form of genuine affection. You pulled back after more than a few long seconds, whispering against his lips.
Jealousy headcannons! Multi/GN!Reader - Cable, Gambit, Nightcrawler, Quicksilver.
Ok I know this wasn't on the schedule butttt Yeahhhh. Cable is going to have an extended version of his fic, and I might do the same for the others but no promises!
Also I know that Cable's written half is literally just the snippet I shared with some minor edits but bear with me please his stuff is in the works!!!
TWs: Jelousy. Barfights. No violence on Reader but men are creepy. Mentions of sex work. Cable and gambit make public spectacles it's just what they do. The return of wolverine and the X-men Pietro bc I love him
Cable
Look, any man who comes over to flirt with you after you walk in with a legit wall of muscle has to be either stupid or blind.
Cable is by no means a very jealous man. He's not gonna care if a man (or woman) approaches you and starts up a conversation. He might get a little frustrated if they start flirting with you, but he trusts you. He knows you can take care of yourself and he doesn't want you to feel like he's got you on a leash.
But when someone is being persistent, not taking no for an answer, and hell, putting their hands on you? He doesn't take it too well. He's more of an overprotective type when it comes to his flavor of jealousy.
“That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.
“Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.
“Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.
“Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't.
“What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip.
“This Husband.” Cable grunts.
All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.
“What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and were getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately tried to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable ignores the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.
“ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. There's a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.
Gambit
Gambit is probably the most jealous man in this lineup. Again, He will get fidgety and somewhat aggressive when someone approaches you and begins to flirt, but he trusts you. He doesn't want you to think he doesn't, and as a result, he tends to grit his teeth and bite his tongue to keep himself in check.
There's definitely a very, very thin line in between "I don't want to be overbearing" Remy and "This guy needs to take the fucking hint" Remy.
He's mostly fine with drunk bastards, He thinks they're funny, and as long as they're not bothering you for the most part he'll keep the aggression to a minimum. -But the one thing he absolutely cannot stand is snobby pricks who think they can steal you from him because he's a "swamp rat."
"It's a shame to see such a lovely creature like you standing here all alone." You try not to roll your eyes at the man that approaches you. You and Remy were supposed to have a nice, romantic night out. It was your anniversary, and Remy had told you that he wanted to pull out all the stops for this one. Unfortunately, fate wasn't on either of your sides today. The X-men needed Gambit, and you told him that the plans can wait for another time. Remy, in a very gambit fashion, told you to dress up anyway and he bet he would meet you there. Definitely a rather High-stakes gamble, but you loved him, so you said you'd hold him to it.
Unfortunately for you, it looked like the restaurant was hosting an event at the bar for what looked like a rather stuffy- sorry, High-end law firm. You had been content with waiting for Remy, even if the waitress clearly looked convinced he was standing you up. You had ordered something to drink while you waited, and caught the wrong kind of attention during your trip to the bar.
"I'm not alone, I'm waiting for someone." You say, flashing him an annoyed smile. He smiles back in a smartass kind of way, flashing you his Rolex as he pushes up his glasses. Great. He thinks you're a sugar baby- or maybe a sex worker. Either way, you really wished he was anywhere but here.
"Right. I'll be honest with you, I know you've been waiting here for what- and hour now? Hour and a half? Any guy that leaves you here for that long is not worth your time, sweetheart." You cringe at the nickname, but he clearly can't seem to tell. At this point, you start debating your options. You could run to the bathroom, but there weren't any windows you could crawl out of and he could wait at the door for you to come out. You could try to leave, but you didn't want Remy to think that you left him hanging. It's probably best if you stay and wait for him, but man was this guy getting on your nerves.
"Again, I'm waiting on someone. I'm choosing to wait on him, and frankly, I'm not interested in you." You say bluntly, getting more and more aggravated. The man only smirks at you.
"You're certainly a fiesty one. Don't worry, I like it when they play hard to get." He sends you wink that makes you want to sock him, and to be honest, you start to think about it. The bell at the door of the restaurant dings, and you glance over, face breaking out in a smile at the sight of the man you had been waiting on.
Remy was still in his x-men suit, obviously having come fresh from the fight. He's got some dirt on his face, and his hair is a little messier than normal, but you had never been so happy to see him.
"Well, don't you clean up well." You joke as Remy walks to your table. He chuckles, barely sparing the other man a side-eye before picking up your hand to kiss it.
"Sorry, Chère. Originally, I planned on changin', but I couldn't stand the thought of leaving you here for another moment." Remy's fond gaze turns into a bit of a glare when he finally looks over at the gobsmacked man across the table from you. "I see you've made a new friend?" You roll your eyes at that, shaking your head. Remy gets the message.
There's a gasp from the other patrons of the restaurant, as the sound the contact made was rather loud. There's already a red mark forming on the mans face as you take Remy by the hand and begin to lead him out of the restaurant. Remy is looking at you like he'd fallen in love with you all over again.
"You've been waiting all this time for some Cajun freak?" The man blurts out, finally having found his words.
"Watch it, Mon ami." Remy's shoulders tense as he snarls at the prick. You stand up, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze before you walk in front of the man. The side of his mouth slightly upturns as you do so, right before you slap the everloving shit out of him.
"I know you really wanted for us to eat here, honey, but to be honest? I like your cooking better anyway."
Nightcrawler
Kurt? Jealous???
Absolutely. He absolutely gets jealous. Kurt is much more of a "cat" kind of jealous than a Guard Dog kind of jealous though. He's not going to do anything crazy like punch anyone, but he's gonna brush up against you, slide his tail around your waist, hold your hand. He wants reassurance from you more than he is angered by whoever is flirting with you.
That's not to say he's not angry. He doesn't like the way some people look at you like a piece of meat instead of the intelligent, beautiful person you are, and he's not afraid to call people out on it.
Kurt knew that the guy you were talking to right now was only stopping to ask you for directions, but he really didn't like how close to you the guy was. Kurt had gone off to get you something to eat from the street food vendor nearby, telling you to just relax and he would be back soon.
When he returned with food in hand, it was obvious to him what was happening, but he still couldn't help but frown. The man is leaning into your space as he shows you the map in his hands. It's fine. There was obviously nothing really going on, the stranger must have been simply touchy. He then watches as the man sets a hand on the back of your waist to point at a building up ahead, and Kurt's mind quickly changes.
Obviously, you had stepped out of the stranger's reach quickly, uncomfortable with the action, but Kurt still slinked up to your side like a cat, pulling you close with his tail as he hands you your food, resting his newly freed hand behind your back.
"There you are, Meine Liebe. I hope you didn't wait for too long." Kurt says sweetly, giving you a grin. You smile back at him, thanking him for the food. You felt relieved to see him. Sure, the stranger that had been speaking to you seemed to be a nice man, but there was a certain amount of comfort and security Kurt provided when he was near you. Kurt makes a show of leaning in and kissing you on the cheek that makes you giggle. The stranger clears his throat after a quick moment.
"-Sorry if I interrupted your date. I appreciate the directions!" He says quickly, face flushed red from embarresment.
"You're perfectly fine! I hope you're able to find what you're looking for alright." You respond sweetly, waving as the man walks off. Kurt is pouting again when you look at him, tail still wrapped comfortably around you. You can't help but giggle.
"You're so jealous." You laugh. Kurt gives you an innocent look as he brushes off the accusation.
"Whaaat? No. Ich habe dich vermisst. That is all!"
Quicksilver
I'm not even gonna lie the fic half of this is just part of that enemies to lovers hcs that I wrote
anyway!!
Pietro is a very pouty, bratty kind of Jealous.
Like sure he trusts you and all but you actually looked at someone else while they were speaking to you? >:[ Don't look at them. Look at him. Smile at him not them. You're laughing at something they said? Well, he's funnier than them!!
He's just, so pouty over the smallest, pettiest things. He just needs a smooch on the forehead and some reassurance and also possibly cuddles, and he'll be fine. God he's such a brat ILHSM
However, If someone is actually flirting with you or going too far and making you uncomfortable, he will in fact throw hands. Or do his speedster thing and find a way to embarrass them, like pantsing them or planting something embarrassing on them. One time he snatched a guy's cell and called his wife before planting it in the man's pocket so she could hear all the flirting he was doing. Now that was fun.
"So I heard you had dinner with the wolfie guy tonight." The sound of Pietro's voice makes you yelp in surprise. You whirl around to see him leaning against the wall of your room, arms crossed. You scoff, and pick a pillow off of your bed to chuck it at him. He catches it easily.
"His name is Logan, and No. Not really. All we did was happen to sit next to each other at dinner." You turn back around to sit at your vanity, but Pietro is already there, sitting on the stool with the pink pillow tucked into his arms.
"So you did have dinner with him?" He pouts. You roll your eyes at him, holding back a laugh as you shove him off the seat. He looses his balance for less than a second before there's a gust and he's sitting cross-legged on your bed, having tossed the pillow to the side.
"What does it matter to you, anyway? You're not even supposed to be here, Pietro." You tease as you sit down, unable to keep yourself from smiling. You comb through your hair as you ready yourself for bed, still grinning like an idiot as you hear Pietro huff and haw.
"Why shouldn't it matter?" He asks, watching as you complete your routine. "I- I have a reason to care." He stutters out cheeks flushing a light pink that reaches his ears. You cover your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.
"Don't laugh!" Pietro objects, and it sends you into a fit of laughter as you stand back up and flop onto your back on the bed next to him.
"He's not my type anyway." You say. It only takes a second before Pietro is leaning over you, caging you between his arms. There's the ghost of a grin beginning to form on his face, simply at the sight of your own cheesy expression.
"What is your type, then?" He asks, and you cock an eyebrow at him.
"Let's just say I prefer a man who can keep up with me." You say with a wink that may or may not have been the most terribly, corny action you could have done. Pietro doesn't seem to care as his face is split with an equally as corny grin.
Both of you are caught off guard by someone calling your same from the hallway, and then a knock shortly after. You take Pietro's moment of distraction and quickly lean up, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Pietro looks absolutely shocked.
"You better get going." You whisper. He smiles at you, almost in disbelief, and then he's gone, the window left open and the breeze catching on curtains, blowing gently.
game on! ꒱ peter maximoff x gf!reader ⁞⁞ 18+ ; mdni
↳ sex bets, bjs, banter, little bit of hair-pulling ⁞⁞ wc: 0.5k ⁞⁞ a/n: reqs open for a bit!
okay. fine. so you were skeptical. if anything, your cynicism was indicative of how well you knew him, which was a nice way to spin it. and peter was kind of a slut. especially when it came to you.
so signs certainly weren’t pointing in his direction. in fact, the bet was so unfavorable to him that you could barely believe he’d been the one to make it.
“if you can make me cum before i beat a level, i’ll do the dishes all month,” he’d said some twenty minutes earlier, apropos of literally nothing, turning over his shoulder from where he sat at the foot of the bed.
now, though, he was singing a different tune. he had one hand fisted in your hair, one gripping the controller equally as tight. the game’s background music and soundtrack were interspersed by peter’s choked little grunts and gasps. “mm,” he grit out. “hah. this is—fuck—really easy, baby, you should—ah!”
you hummed around him, giving his ass a squeeze. his legs closed around your head, thighs pressing you even further down on his cock. your eyelashes caught in his pubic hair when they fluttered closed. you gagged intentionally and drew back, spitting the accumulated saliva onto his dick before resuming your task with exponential vigor. you didn’t want to wash the fucking dishes.
he shuddered and cleared his throat, muttering something about ‘sniping the fucking guy,’ even as his grip on your hair tightened and his hips jerked forward slightly, clearly resisting the urge to drop the controller and fuck into your mouth. he wasn’t slick.
on your next pullback, you glanced up at him through your lashes. his face was flushed, his jaw set, his eyes locked on the screen in front of him. “easy?” you taunted, not giving any time to respond before diving back in.
“yeah. shit, this is…fucking easy, m’ clearing them all out…” he said, voice shaking. his hips jittered again and you felt the muscles in his thighs contract. “are you even doing anyth—ohholyfuckbabe—”
you grin, laving your tongue up the length of him and then sucking hard. behind you, the controller clatters to the hardwood floor and another hand grips your hair. fuck yeah. winner.
his quips quickly dissolve into nonsensical gasps as he hooks his legs over your shoulders and begins face-fucking you in earnest. if not for his heavy thighs keeping you in place, you’d be multiple feet across the room, probably embedded in the screen now displaying red GAME OVER text. what can you say? peter’s got one hell of a thrust.
his cock fills your mouth, warm and a little salty; mostly just tasting like skin and peter. it’s heavy on your tongue, but you can breathe ever-so-slightly easier when he cums, spilling down your throat. dutifully, you swallow, mostly because you don’t feel like dealing with the mess that’d happen if you didn’t, then sit back on your knees and rest your head against his thigh.
his grip on your hair eases and his posture goes lax as his breathing evens out. he glances down at you, hazy-eyed and pink-cheeked, looking a little sheepish. one of his hands pets your hair, the other moving to the back of his neck where he rubs nervously. “...best out of three?”
