"𝒌𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒗 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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