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angelicstrawberries · 9 months

Note

OHMYGOD I LOVE YOU OP THIS IS AMAZING 🙇‍♀️

okay but like.. craig and tweek both fucking the shit out of you at the same time>>

omg you're so real for that anon. youve inspired me to write a whole ass story :3 hope you like it !!

♥ College Party w/ Craig and Tweek ♥

✢ summary: attending Clyde's big college party, your jealous boyfriends Craig and Tweek can't handle other boys flirting with you.

✢ WC: 3018 (oops)

✢ gender: reader is implied to be female <3

✢ warnings: nsfw!! rough sex, degradation, mentions of alcohol, clyde kinda being a weirdo, threesome (yall are in a poly relationship so yeah), lots and lots of swearinggg

✢ authors note: ummm this came out to be wayyy longer than I thought but once I get started on writing I almost never stop. (also i had an original draft that had like 3000+ words that i wrote fully on tumblr and i pressed ctrl z and lost all of it. sad)

You and your boyfriends, Tweek and Craig, have been dating for a few months now. Even though you and the boys were head over heels for each other, the relationship had stayed a secret by your request. You were afraid your friends and family would judge your choice to be in a polyamorous relationship. Tweek and Craig respected your choice to keep it a secret but were slowly growing tired of seeing men hitting on you in front of them. When Craig invited you to a party at his house, you decided to bring your secret lovers along with you. This party was their chance to claim you as theirs in front of everyone, once and for all.

It was around 7 pm that you lost track of where your boyfriends went. The music was loud and the crowds of people were a little disorienting. You were about to look for your boyfriends when suddenly Wendy and Bebe invited you over to their little corner to drink. You politely accepted since you thought you should unwind a little with the girls. A few drinks in, Wendy started to talk about her relationship issues with Stan while Bebe just shook her head.

“Girl, you should just drop him I swear!” Bebe said rolling her eyes. Wendy took another swig and sighed.

“I know, it would be great to be single like Y/N.” Wendy said looking over at you.

You almost spit out your drink. ‘Quite the opposite’ you thought to yourself.

“Yeah, trust me. After I dumped Clyde, my life has been so much better. Sometimes boys are so suffocating and needy.” Bebe said admiring her freshly manicured nails.

You felt the conversation starting to get a little too serious for your liking, so you excused yourself and went to get some fresh air outside.

You sat on the back porch, where it was secluded. The air felt cold on your exposed flesh, making you hold your own arms to stay warm. You decided to really dress up, hair and makeup all done up, you wanted to look pretty for your first college party. You felt a little lonely outside, you started to wonder where your two boyfriends went. ‘You have two of them, how did you manage to lose both?’ you thought to yourself. Your thoughts were quickly cut off when you saw two shoes stop right in front of you.

“What’s up, Y/N?” Clyde asked with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a drink. Clyde was in his usual red varsity jacket, with jeans on. He smelled of alcohol and strong cologne.

You looked up at him. “Oh, hey Clyde. I’m just getting some fresh air right now.” You replied.

“What’s wrong? Too many people in there for your liking?” He asked sitting next to you. You noticed he was sitting a little too close.

“Y-yeah, I just wanted to get away from all the noise I guess.” You said starting to feel a little nervous.

“Hm…” Clyde trailed off for a moment. He suddenly put his arm around you, which made you jump a little in shock.

“We could go up to my room. We’d have plenty of privacy there.” Clyde said with a smug grin.

You gave a nervous giggle in response but were starting to totally panic on the inside. You didn’t know what to do in that situation.

“Actually, Y/N was just about to hang out with us instead.” You heard a monotone voice behind you. You turned around and saw that it was Craig and he looked pissed. Craig doesn’t normally show emotion, so when he looks even slightly annoyed, you know it's bad.

“Who the hell invited you two?” Clyde said hesitantly taking his arm off you.

“Y-your mom!” Tweek spat out in frustration.

Clyde stood up and walked up to Craig. They exchanged glares for a moment until Clyde looked away.

“Pshht, whatever. You guys fucking suck.” Clyde said walking away towards the door. Clyde opened the sliding glass and went inside, slamming it behind him.

You stood up and ran to envelop the two boys in a hug. “Thank you guys, Clyde was being really weird. Please don’t disappear on me again!” You said squishing your face between their arms.

“S-sorry Y/N, Stan and the others were playing poker and you know that C-Craig is addicted to gambling!” Tweek said starting to fidget a little.

“Yeah, ‘cos I’m damn good at it.” Craig said matter-of-factly.

You giggled and backed away. “Well, let's not waste the rest of the night. Let’s go inside and party some more together.” You said starting to walk around them.

“Actually Y/N, we had a different idea.” Craig said putting his hand on your shoulder. His hand was big and had a firm grip on you, so you know he was being serious.

“Oh? What is it?” You asked looking at the two boys in confusion.

“J-Just follow us inside!” Tweek said in excitement, grabbing your hand in his.

“Ok then!” You said before being dragged off by the two boys.

You went up the stairs and found yourself in front of a room. It was Clyde’s. Craig opened the door and motioned you to go inside.

“Why are we going into Clyde’s room?” You asked starting to get a little suspicious.

“Just trust.” Craig said winking at you.

You couldn’t resist Craig when he was being playful, since most of the time he is emotionless. You stepped into Clyde’s room, looking around to find clues as to what you were going to do in it. Tweek walked in after you, with Craig being last inside before they shut the door. You heard the lock click, which prompted you to turn around.

“What’s going on here?” You asked hesitantly. Craig walked up to you slowly, making you back up until you backed into Clyde’s bed. You lost balance and fell backward onto the bed, catching yourself with your elbows. Craig bent down to your level while standing between your legs.

“Tweek and I are getting a little sick of watching boys hit on you. Right, Tweek?” Craig asked turning his head over to Tweek.

“Y-Yeah! You belong to us, n-not them!” Tweek said in frustration. He started to twitch in anger.

“I’m thinking we finally make it official huh? Make it known to every guy that you are ours.” Craig said with a subtly grin on his face. He held your chin with his fingers, tilting it to look up at him.

“What do you say, baby?” Craig said awaiting your answer.

You started to feel your whole body warm up from his assertiveness. You couldn’t give a verbal answer, just a nod. Embarrassment started to paint your face and you looked away from his gaze. He was right, you guys weren’t really dating if every boy thought you were still free game.

“Good.” Craig said in his usual flat tone. He gently pushed your chest, so that you laid down flat. “Everyone will know you’re ours when you’re screaming our names.” Craig said crawling on top of you. His hands parted your nervous legs.

You haven’t actually had sex with your two boyfriends yet, you were unsure how ready you were for a threesome. But at this moment, your whole body screamed for their touch.

“G-God, she’s so beautiful.” Tweek said walking around the bed, hovering above you, opposite to Craig. When you looked up at Tweek you could see the tent in his pants already starting to form. Suddenly, you pulled yourself back to reality for just a moment.

“W-wait, isn’t it kind of fucked up to do this in Clyde’s bed?” You asked placing your hand on Craig’s chest.

“Yeah, it is. That’s what makes this even better.” Craig said smirking. He raised his knee to meet your clothed cunt and applied enough pressure to earn a gasp from you.

“B-but if you want us to stop, we can.” Tweek said bending down to kiss your forehead.

You became flushed from the thought of doing something on someone else's bed, but the thought was so thrilling you let the better judgment pass you. You shook your head in response to stopping. Craig pushed his knee a little more, making you squirm. He seemed to get a kick out of teasing you.

“Already squirming? We haven’t even taken our clothes off yet.” Craig said taking in how you looked, all pathetic and desperate.

Craig nodded at Tweek, signaling Tweek to move onto the bed, where he sat with his back lying on the headrest. Craig pulled you into his arms (rather effortlessly) and rotated you to where your head was aligned with Tweek’s body. He then flipped you over to your stomach. You were so eager that you didn’t even notice that you got onto your hands and knees already.

“Y-You look s-so fucking sexy in that dress. M-Me and Craig were talking about how much we wanted to r-rip it off you.” Tweek said moving your hair out of your face.

Craig became deathly silent behind you, which he normally does when he’s focused. You hadn’t really noticed it though because you were too busy soaking up the praise from Tweek. Craig was admiring the view from behind you, pushing back his urge to just fuck you immediately. No, he wanted to give Tweek a chance to have his fun with you first.

You smiled at Tweek and dragged your hand seductively down his chest to his pelvis, where you unbuttoned his jeans. Your touch was enough to earn a shutter from him and he started to twitch in anticipation. He helped you pull down his pants, where he tossed them onto the floor amongst the dirty laundry that Clyde had neglected for who knows how long. Your face lit up in shock as you saw how big Tweek’s bulge was. Tweek was painfully hard, obviously being pent up for a long time. He breathed a sigh of relief when you finally pulled his cock out of his underwear. You let it lay against your cheek for a second and smiled. You looked up at Tweek and met with his lustful gaze. Tweek was speechless, he just took his hand to lovingly rub your cheek in response.

You then took the tip of his cock into your mouth. You closed your eyes and let your tongue do its magic. That was when you felt Craig grind his pelvis against your ass. Your moaned while taking more of Tweek into your mouth, earning a grunt from Tweek.

“F-Fuck you two are so fucking hot, ah!” Tweek exclaimed while holding onto your head.

You started to bob your head up and down, building up the excitement in Tweek’s body. Tweek was trying to be patient, but you were going at a painfully slow pace.

“Y/N, c-can you go faster?” Tweek asked eagerly.

You hummed ‘mhm’ as a response and started to go faster. The faster pace was nice and all, but Tweek was hungry for more. He wanted to go all the way down your throat.

“Mmm n-need more!” He said getting restless. He suddenly gripped your hair and pulled your head so that his cock went further down your throat. You choked in surprise and tried to catch your breath but it was too late. The shy blonde had already started and there was no way he could slow down now.

“S-Shit so fucking good!” Tweek spat out, gripping your hair on both sides. He was thrusting into your face at this point and even though you were struggling to breathe, it was really fucking hot. Your muffled moans in desperation only urged the blonde to keep going.

“Careful now Tweek, don’t break her before I get to.” Craig said gripping your ass.

“I-I’m sorry her throat is so a-addicting.” Tweek said as his head tilted back in ecstasy.

You broke away from Tweek’s grip for just a moment so that you could catch your breath. Tweek was absolutely covered in your spit, his cock aching from the absence of your mouth. You were about to say something when you were cut off by the sensation of fingers entering your wet pussy. You moaned out in surprise when you realized just how neglected you were down there. You hadn’t noticed how wet you were because you were so focused on Tweek. Craig wanted to remind you he was still there, watching you two have your fun. He curled his fingers to hit you in that perfect spot, making you whine out in pleasure.

Tweek gripped your hair and pulled you down to his cock again. “Don’t forget to finish what y-you started.” Tweek said rubbing his dick against your lips.

You took him back into your mouth, letting him control the pace once more. Tweek went back to fucking your throat, making an absolute mess of your hair in the process. You felt Craig’s fingers leave you for a moment, which earned a disappointed moan from you. It didn’t last for long though, as Craig pushed the tip of his cock against your entrance. Startled by it, you wanted to turn around to look but Tweek gripped your head.

Tweek’s tone was darker than you’re used to hearing and didn’t contain his usual stutter.

“No, look at me. I want you to look me in the eyes while I cum down your throat.” Tweek said briefly pausing before slamming his cock as far down your throat as it could go.

Your eyes watered and your throat was starting to feel really sore, but seeing Tweek embrace a more dominant side had you entranced. That was when Craig thought it was a great idea to push his cock inside of you. Your already tired voice let out a muffled moan as he struggled to push deeper.

“Fuck, you’re really tight.” Craig said gripping your hips. Your legs started to buckle from the feeling in your gut, but Craig held you up.

“Don’t break on us just yet, I want to use your slutty little hole first.” Craig said bending over you, whispering into your ear.

Craig then started to thrust into you, making you instinctively grip the sheets of the bed. You wanted to bury your head into the mattress while he fucked you, but Tweek was still fucking your throat. You were completely overstimulated, your two boyfriends were ruining you from both ends.

Tweek’s movements started to become more shaky and sloppy, meaning he was coming close to his release. Your spit was collecting at the base of his cock and it was starting to drip onto Clyde’s sheets. Tweek pulled your head far enough to where your nose was squished against his pelvis. This sensation led him right over the edge where he grunted out, “Fuck, I-I’m cumming!” You whined as you felt his thick fluids slide right down your throat. He held your head all the way down for a few moments while Craig started to quicken his pace. Tweek slid out of your mouth from exhaustion and let go of his tight grip on your hair.

Craig pulled your ass up so that it was all the way in the air. Your back was arched as he drilled into your cunt. Now that your mouth was free, your moans could now be audible. Tweek let you rest on his lap as you got obliterated from behind.

“D-Don’t be shy, let everyone know who you belong to.” Tweek said moving the hair off of your sweaty forehead.

“Yeah slut, I told you to scream for us.” Craig said, voice a little out of breath from his thrusts.

“F-Fuck! Mmm! Fuck me harder Craig ah!” You screamed out, not realizing the loud music that was playing outside was turned off a while ago.

“Who do you belong to?” Craig asked slamming his hips against your ass hard enough to make lewd slapping noises.

“I belong to y-you guys! I belong to Tweek and Craig, f-fuuck!” You whined out, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

“Good fucking girl.” Craig said pleased. He moved to an angle where he could dip even deeper inside of you. Rewarding your obedience by kissing your cervix with his dick. Your screams and moans of pleasure filled the room. Your lewd sounds were so loud in fact, that you couldn’t hear the banging and yelling outside of the door. You started to feel your release come very close and your body was ready to give in.

“Mmm— close sooo close!” You whined out, your body almost going limp.

“Me too baby, cum with me.” Craig said quickening his pace. He used his hand to push down on your stomach, which was enough to give you that orgasm you desperately craved. You screamed out and squeezed your legs together. Your pussy clenched around Craig when you came, which in turn helped him reach his release.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you!” Craig grunted out while holding your hip against his. You could feel his warm seed fill you as his thrusts slowed down.

He finally slipped out of you and kissed your back. You collapsed on top of Tweek soon after from exhaustion. Craig laid next to you guys and covered all of you with the blanket that was draped on the corner of the bed.

The door was finally kicked down by Clyde shortly after. Clyde was infuriated and yelled out, “What the fuck is going on here—” But Clyde cut himself off when his face went pale and his jaw dropped in shock.

Soon the others shuffled to get a peek out of curiosity and collective gasps could be heard from the sight.

“Nice.” Kenny said impressed.

“Called it. You lost the bet fatass.” Kyle said holding his hand out.

“Dammit!” Cartman said angrily.

Clyde was at a loss for words and just gawked at Craig. You were embarrassed as hell and hid behind the covers.

Craig smirked and flipped off Clyde.

It was pretty obvious that your relationship was no longer a secret.

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angelicstrawberries · 11 months

Text

Pinball Wizard

peter maximoff x fangirl reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, super-powered sex, oral sex, fingering, overstimulation, kissing (like a lot jfc), lots of simping, clunky writing, female reader (sorry), porn with (slight) plot

word count: 12,276

a/n: i've been workin' on this one for like a week now, and i'm not really happy with how it turned out !!! but i'm so tired of stressin' over it !!! lmao apologies for clunky writing, an abrupt ending, and possibly ooc peter ??? idk i feel like i could've written him more accurately here. anyway, hope you enjoy this, regardless !!

it's the 80's, and reader is a quicksilver fangirl. like, some beatles-level shit. just bear with me, okay? ilysm

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1987.

Huey Lewis and the News echoed from somewhere distant, around you in a catchy tune. The Power of Love.

Sitting in a booth at a shabby, local arcade and pizza place; you nervously watched a figure from a little ways away. In your spot, you were frozen in place. Time had come to a standstill. Like a moment ripped straight out of the cheesiest of television, romance movies.

Peter Maximoff. Quicksilver. The shining speedster himself, stood casually over a blinking, pinball machine. Pressing the side buttons in rapid clicks, his fingers moved in a blur of mutant superspeed. Peter’s hips rocked forward every few beats, knocking against the machine in an attempt to guide the balls where he wanted them to go. You tried not to think too hard about the implication of such a sight.

Peter was completely zoned in on the flickering lights of KISS edition pinball. And he paid no attention to his surroundings. Unseen by him, you shamelessly indulged yourself. Admiring him for another moment longer. You would’ve done so for a millenia, should the universe allow it.

Your eyes zeroed in on the fleshy blur of his fingers.

An uncontrollable, giddy smile swarmed your face. Clutching a cup of soda, you fought to keep your bubbling elation contained. You just couldn’t help yourself! You were witnessing actual, Quicksilver superspeed in real time! How often does anyone get to see a thing like that?

In a manner much akin to that of a musical’s leading lady in love (a la Grease); you let out a long, dreamy sigh. You were a lovestruck Looney Tune, with bubblegum pink hearts practically bursting like tears from your eyes. Dramatically, you placed a hand over your chest.

You might’ve been somewhat of a Quicksilver fangirl. Well, more than ‘somewhat’, actually. ‘Somewhat’ didn’t do the extent of your affection for him justice. You considered yourself to be the Quicksilver fangirl of all Quickie fangirls out there. And, god in heaven above, there were a lot of them. A metric fuckton.

Peter had enough women swooning over him, that you were genuinely surprised he was even here. Playing a game of pinball, in some run-down pizza place, in the middle of a public setting. The place was near-closing time. Almost empty. Maybe that’s why he came in so late. During the ghostly, desolate hours of the night. Having the space mostly to himself must have felt like a miracle to someone as recognizable as Peter. And if such a miracle was a liberating light to bask in during his free time? You didn’t want to darken that light with the disruption of your presence. Even if the adoring, over-eager, Quickie-groupie voice in your brain nagged you endlessly. Beating you with a metaphorical hammer. Pressuring you to approach the human equivalent of ADD. You reluctantly refused. Remaining planted in your seat.

Best not to interfere. Down, girl. You restlessly bounced a leg, as though on the verge of springing from your seat. Distracting yourself, you observed the clothes Peter wore. An overall, signature motif of shimmering silver. Oh, how you adored that motif. Earphones lay upon his head, placed over his ears. What song was he listening to? And from what tape? You so desperately wanted to know. You’d give anything to know.

You were curious about Peter’s music tastes. But there was no way in hell you could break his concentration just to ask about it. Who would you be to interrupt his much needed relaxation time? Peter was probably approached by adoring fans and superhero geeks on a consistent basis. What could you say to him that hadn’t already been said a thousand times? It’d be pointless, really.

Looking bashfully down at your half-finished soda, you twirled the straw. The red, textured plastic of your cup rested on your bare thighs. You nibbled your lip in conflicting thought. Somewhere in the arcade, you heard the robotic, broken singing voice of a mouse animatronic. It announced the store’s closing, happening by the end of the hour. Last chance to grab a happenin’ slice of pizza!

Last chance for you to confront the mutant superhero you’d idolized for so long. If you didn’t, you knew you’d never get an opportunity like this again. More than likely, anyway. If you continued to sit at the booth, playing with a straw and kicking your feet; you’d miss him. Peter could bolt away in an instant, at any moment. What then?

Movement at the corner of your eye drew your attention away from your lap. You brought your head up, seeing Peter grinning proudly to himself. He cleared through an entire game of KISS pinball in very little time. And with a record-breaking high score to boot. Shifting from foot to foot, he raised an elbow onto the machine. Using it as leverage to carelessly lean over, he pulled his Walkman from his torn, silver jeans. Stars sparkled in your eyes as you watched his every gesture. Completely entranced by the simple actions of a silver speedster you were borderline obsessed with. Peter’s gaze pulled itself from the Walkman, and he took a quick glance around the mostly empty arcade. One of the last remaining families in the place sat, eating pizza at their own booth. A rather chunky man in a grease-stained shirt held his six year old son in his arms. And the little boy, pizza sauce staining his cheeks; called out-

“It’s Kwick-Silvuh!”

To which Peter replied, “Sup, lil man!”

By happenstance, a once in a lifetime opportunity, Peter’s eyes then locked on yours. He raised a brow at the sight of you. And because his gaze traveled so fast, you completely missed the once-over he gave you. You were still recovering from the ridiculously adorable exchange between him, and the pizza sauce kid. You missed the way Peter’s eyes glided across the – embarrassingly enough – shining silver of your own jacket. And the X-Men top you wore underneath. A shirt themed after your most favorite issue of a comic. A comic about, who else? But Quicksilver himself. Peter’s lips curled upwards in a smirk, his eyes half-lidded. The arm he had resting on top of the pinball machine threw you a casual peace sign. Your stomach instantly flipped, butterflies swarming in a frantic crowd beneath your ribcage. A warm blush erupted through your cheeks. And with the mortified look of a deer caught in semi-truck headlights; you forced your gaze down to the cup of soda in your lap.

A blur of stunning silver appeared before you in a flash, as Peter slid his way into the booth across from you. His earphones hung around his neck, ringing out a muffled tune you could barely make out. Goggles rested at the top of his head, their lenses slightly smudged. Startled, you jumped in your seat with a high-pitched peep, nearly spilling your soda. Peter blinked slowly, and lazily grinned. You swallowed, completely at a loss for words. An entire lifetime spent learning the English language, now instantly erased from your memory. Peter leaned forward over the table, resting his elbows on its funky-patterned surface. “Whatcha doin’ over here all by yerself, cutie?” Peter asked. The sound of his voice made you melt into a puddle instantly. His tone oozed casual overconfidence, “You got any idea what time it is?” Wait-...did Peter Maximoff just call you cute??? Not only that, but he’d gone out of his way to approach you. You, of all people. In your nerdy, superhero fangirl getup. Drenched in a curtain of silver. You may as well have worn a neon sign around your neck. With “QUICKSILVER IS MY BEATLES!” scribbled across it in permanent marker. You kept your head tilted down, glasses sliding down your nose (oh, what’s that? You don’t wear glasses? You do now. Enjoy your temporary astigmatism). “Heyyyy, c’mon! I’m only teasin’ ya! You don’t gotta be shy!” Peter said. His expression softened into one of sympathetic understanding. After a pause, he added, “Y’know somethin’? I still haven’t read that comic.”

You blinked, steadily bringing your head up to meet the eyes of Peter Maximoff. Big, brown, beautiful, and so doe-like. An absolute dream. Be still my beating heart. That swirling swell of butterflies in your chest erupted with elation. And you blushed further, opting to gaze at the goggles resting over his silver hair instead. The right lens had a small scratch etched into it. From battle, or from troublesome shenanigans, you wondered.

“Y-You mean-” You pulled at your jacket, opening it slightly. Just to show off the print on your top, “-this one?” Peter’s eyes lit up, and he pointed to your shirt with a wave of his finger. “Yeah! Just never got around to it, I guess. I don’t actually get to read a lotta comics anymore. Hard to find the time. What, with the whole ‘keepin’ the peace’ thing ‘n all.” He shrugged. Twiddling his thumbs in a fast paced tic. You wondered if he was always, in some way, in motion. For a millisecond, Peter disappeared. Before reappearing at the table, a whole tray of various junk foods lying before him. He chomped down on a few, cold pizza slices. And finished them before you got a single word in. Peter consumed entire foods right before your eyes, in a most outrageously shameless way. But being the enamored, speedster admirer you were; your only reaction was that of lovestruck wonderment. Peter was so casual in your presence. Despite being aware that you harbored some semblance of parasocial attachment to him. His calm demeanor helped ease your tense nerves. Allowing those frantic butterflies to finally find their peace. At least, for the time being. “Y-uh…you do a pretty good job! Uhm…lookin’ out for everyone, I mean!” You brought your cup up to the table, twirling your straw, “It’s a really good comic! Probably my personal favorite, honestly.” As your fingers pinched the straw, Peter’s eyes took a most subtle glance at them. Sparkling silver decorated your nails in chipped polish. Guiding his eyes up to your own again, he threw you a knowing smirk. Peter shoveled some crinkle fries into his mouth. Thankfully, he was polite enough that he didn’t speak with his mouth full. Mama Maximoff must be proud, you thought.

“Oh, yeah? What makes ya like it so much?” Peter asked with a nod of his head.

The blush in your cheeks overtook the rest of your face like a cherry-red disease. Shrugging your shoulders, you cowered in on yourself. Too shy to admit aloud, what Peter more than likely already figured out. A question so easily deduced, by the speediest of Sherlocks. If Peter was asking? You had a gut feeling he was only doing so to tease. If the smug look on his handsome face was anything to go by. Infuriating, honestly. “Well, it’s got-uh…some really nice artwork! The color spread is gorgeous! And…it features my favorite member of the X-Men too, so…” You quietly admitted, and brought the tip of the straw to your glossed lips. Peter’s knowing smirk formed into a cheshire-like grin. Leaning back, he threw an arm over the booth. Humoring you, he pretended to contemplate your words. “Aaaah. Yer favorite, huh?” Peter said, waving a fry, “No, wait, don’t tell me. Lemme guess, kay? Hmmm…” He pursed his lips, tapping them with the floppiest of crinkle fries, “Is it…Professor X? No! No. Yer probably more of a Nightcrawler girl, yeah? Ah! Wait, no! I got it! Yer mad crushin’ on Beastie, aren’t ya? Hey, it’s cool. I’m not one to judge!”

Peter was as charming as he was aloof. Every charismatic word he spoke only expanded the length of your adoration by a hundred miles. You giggled, your heart soaring in delight. Peter politely offered you a fry. And in return, you kindly declined. Your stomach was too twisted in fluttery knots, for you to even imagine eating anything. “Oh, yeah! Definitely! His lil blue whiskers are just too cute! Absolutely irresistible!” You played along with a snort. Rhythmically tapping your cup with your thumbs. “Can’t say I’m surprised! Hank’s one of those mega smart kinda guys. Chicks totally dig nerds like him. And he’s super strong-” Peter flexed an arm, feigning a macho persona. A long, Twizzler candy hung from his lips. It seemed to appear from nowhere, “And he’s fluffy. Girls love fluffy things. That’s a fact. You can look it up.”

Erupting into another flurry of giggles, you covered your mouth to hide your infatuated smile. “That’s true! Fluffy is definitely a plus! I’ll give you that!” You joked, pulling your lip between your teeth. Taking a daring chance, you chose to be more direct. Your voice smoothed into a teasing tone, “...Wish I was more drawn to blue, though.” Peter raised a brow. He tugged on the Twizzler with his teeth, keeping his smirk. “Yeah? You got a preference fer somethin’ else?” He asked, his own voice falling hushed. Carrying tension, catching you off guard. You looked down at your straw, twirling it between your fingers. Playfully, you sighed, peering up at Peter with a soft flutter of your lashes. “Silver’s kinda nice.” “Think so?” He teased, “Never woulda guessed.” Peter laughed with a quiet exhale, his smile pressing into his dimples.

More Twizzlers suffered their ultimate demise at the pull of his teeth. An indefinite tension lingered in the air. And Peter intentionally broke it with something silly. “But now that you mention it? A silver haired Beast would look pretty damn sweet.” He added. “Ooooh! It would be, wouldn’t it? That’d be sick!” You perked up, “Maybe that should be his next experiment! Some kinda…serum that turns hair silver!”

Peter shrugged.

“Sneakin’ silver dye into his shampoo sounds wayyy more fun, if you ask me.” He made a gesture with his fingers, signaling you to pass your soda. Nonplused, you offered it to him. And Peter’s fingertips brushed yours upon taking it (intentionally, or unintentionally? You couldn’t tell), “Did you know he uses, like, industrial grade shampoo made fer bears? I kid you not. Totally legit.”

He took a sip from your soda. But not through the straw, you noted.

You blinked, and a breeze of delicate wind tickled your cheeks. Peter slid your cup over from across the table. And you realized then, that he refilled it for you. You thanked him, swallowing down a fresh, crisp sip to aid the dryness in your throat. “Don’t mention it. You got a name?” Peter asked with a nod of his head. You ran a hand through your hair, speaking your name in a bashful tone. Peter repeated it aloud to himself, testing the feel of it on his tongue. But mostly, he did so with the full intent of flustering you further. If that was even possible, at this point. “Well-” Peter started, and he dropped your name in a buttery smooth inflection, “-it’s awesome to meet you. I’m Peter. Most call me Quicksilver. But I’m pretty sure you just call me yer favorite, babe.” He shot you a charming wink. And all at once, that air of faint tension returned. Internally, a violent upsurge of tickly fondness blossomed from within your heart. But externally? You merely pulled your glasses off. Dropping your burning face into your hands. “Wow. Okay. Oh my god…” You mumbled weakly, shaking your head. A shy giggle bubbled in your throat, “What the hell, man?”

Peter chuckled, leaning forward. His elbows met the table, avoiding the tray chock full of junk food in front of him. At the ridiculously pleasant sound of his laugh, you brought your head up. Keeping your blistering face covered, you peeked at Peter through two of your fingers. “Hey, don’t sweat it, kay? I’m totally flattered.” He reassured you. A nanosecond, and he snatched your glasses, pushing them onto his face. Peter squinted, alternating between looking through your lenses, and viewing the world without them. He scrunched up his nose, making a weird face. “Wow. Yer, like, super blind.” He said, “Guess you gotta be, if you like me so much. Amiright?” He joked with a dorky snort.

Giggling, you hid your face again, wildly shaking your head. “Ohhhh my god. I’m so sorry, Peter.” The light clink of your glasses being placed in front of you pulled your gaze from your hands. You met Peter’s eyes once more, but not without sliding your glasses on first. You couldn’t really see him without them. “Sorry?” He furrowed his brows, grabbing your soda from your side of the table, “What’re ya sorry for?” Peter took another swig. Again, avoiding the straw. And once more, he refilled the cup in a flash. You groaned a soft sigh, leaning back in your seat. “I just didn’t wanna bother you! You looked like you were havin’ fun over there! Playin’ pinball! I’m sure you get, like, bombarded all the time! So, like…don’t feel obligated to talk to me or anything.” You shrugged. And with a melancholy smile, you added, “Especially if you’d rather be takin’ time to yourself.”

Peter’s tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, and he considered your self-conscious confession. “Listen, I ‘ppreciate what yer tryna say, babe. But don’t get too hung up on that kinda thing, alright? I wouldn’t be sittin’ here right now if I wanted to be somewhere else.” Peter insisted.

He tapped his fingers lightly on the table, pausing for thought. Peter then gave you another one of those lazy grins, “You ever play it?” You tilted your head to the side. “Play what? Pinball?”

“Yeah!” Peter cheerily said, “Ever try the KISS version? It’s, like, so bitchin’.” You timidly smiled, warm, affectionate giggles erupting from your chest. “I think I have! Like, once? Not the KISS one, though! That’s new to me.”

Peter nodded, throwing his arm over the back of the booth again. He turned slightly in his seat, gesturing to the flickering pinball machine a fair distance away. It sat wedged between two other arcade games. Pac-Man, and one of those electronic, basketball games. However, the Pac-Man machine was unlit and unplayable. Taped over its blackened screen, was a sign that read ‘Out of Order.’

“Hm.” Peter hummed, contemplative. He cocked his head in the direction of the machine, “C’mon, I’ll teach ya then. Could be fun.” Peter drummed his palms on the table, before sliding out of the booth. Once standing, he extended a hand for you to take, “You got time fer a game, groupie?” Peter checked his watch, “This place don’t close fer another thirty minutes.”

Taken aback by Peter’s offer, you stared down at his open hand in awe. Almost in disbelief. Was this really happening right now? Breathing deeply to calm your nerves, you hesitated to reach out. Before your fingertips finally connected with Peter’s palm. “Uh…yeah! Sure! Of course! Whatever you want, dude!”

Leaving behind his tray of artery-clogging snacks, Peter pulled you along by your hand. You followed behind him, approaching the pinball machine. Once the two of you were standing by the machine, Peter gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

Releasing your hand, Peter felt around each of his pockets. “You wouldn’t happen to have any - wait, what am I askin’ you for? I can just-...y’know what? One sec-”

Peter disappeared in a soft whirl of wind. The breeze tickled your cheeks and ruffled your hair. Repearring in an instant, Peter bent himself over to push a few tokens into the machine’s coin slot. A gentle, buzz of a tune continued to play quietly from his earphones. And still, you found you couldn’t make out the song.

“What’d you-” You started to ask. “Swiped you some tokens. Just so you wouldn’t have to pay. Don’t worry ‘bout it, babe!” Peter took a few steps back, shoving one of his hands in his jacket pocket. Throwing you a flirtatious wink, he flipped a token with his thumb. Peter then gestured to the pinball machine. A swell of beeping pinball noises kicked into action, “Go ahead! Why don’t you give it a shot?” He said, “Show Paul Stanely and the gang whatcha got!”

Peter’s dorky charm had you lost within another fit of bashful giggles. You nodded your head, stepping up to the machine.

It was absolutely stunning in overall design. Sleek and colorful. A hellish aesthetic merged with an aura of 70’s rock. Intricately painted decals of the band members were decorated over every surface. Surrounded by scorching flames. Beneath the clear glass, the game reminded you of a small-scale, infernal, amusement park. Bustling with life. With bright, twinkling lights and funky, bell-like noises to keep your attention.

Those glittering lights danced along the lenses of your glasses. And you hesitantly placed your fingers over the side buttons.

“Thanks! I’ll-uh…I’ll certainly try my best!” You focused your gaze on the game. The tip of your tongue poked out between your lips. And you read through the small, scratched patch of instructions at the corner of the machine.

Peter leaned his side against the unlit Pac-Man machine, both hands buried in his jacket pockets. He watched your every move with speedy, observing eyes. Smiling to himself, he gave you a few pointers here or there.

At least, he must have thought they were pointers. Peter revealed himself to be quite the backseat gamer. Not that you minded, if it meant you could listen to that quirky, irresistible voice of his.

“It’s a timing thing, ya see? You gotta time yer button presses at juuuuust the right moment-” Peter paused, pulling a hand from his pocket. He made a gesture with his finger at the glass of the machine, “Try to aim fer those K-I-S-S targets. They give you some sweet bonuses. Oh! And the glowing, pop bumpers – with the faces – those are, like, double.” Your eyes jumped from every flickering light, to each labeled decal under the glass. And you found yourself overwhelmed by the sheer multitude of targets to hit. You repeatedly missed the necessary ones, and Peter couldn’t help but snicker. You were just so bad at pinball, it was laughable. “No, no, like-” He started, tossing a hand out, as if tempted to take over. Peter resisted, letting you continue with your first, albeit failed, attempt.

Unsurprisingly, you got your ass handed to you on a blinking, pinball platter. Somewhere, Starchild and his KISS crew were probably looking down on you in judgment. “Oh! Close! You did so good, babe! But you gotta, like-” Peter made another gesture with his hand to try and relay his thoughts. But he found it difficult to convey the game's mechanics through words alone, “here, lemme help you out.”

He moved to position himself behind you, pressing his body against yours. Peter’s chest met your back as he leaned over one of your shoulders. Enveloping you in a backwards hug, he wrapped his arms around your form. Both of his hands moved to cover yours, his palms engulfing the tops of your hands. Concealing them in a comforting warmth, and sending electric tingles all through your veins.

Your eyes flew open wide, and you sucked in a quiet breath of air. Tensing at the closeness, you felt a stir of something pleasant deep within your core. But figuring this was the absolute worst place, and wrong time for such feelings; you forced yourself to ignore them.

“Oh…” You breathed. Your heart erratically pounded in your chest, rattling your ribs.

Peter leaned down, just enough to whisper in your ear. “You cool with this?” A hot brush of air tickled your skin.

Goosebumps erupted down your neck, trailing shivers through your spine. Peter’s inflection held with it a genuine concern for your comfort. And his consideration only made the spark burning in your core ignite to a blistering flame. Slacking your shoulders just a smidge, you tried to compose yourself.

“Y-Yeah…” You muttered, and carefully, you admitted, “...very much.” Peter pressed himself even closer into your body. The brown of his eyes glided across the flickering, pinball lights. And he gently guided your fingers, leading the both of you into a new game. “Figured you might be.” He mumbled into your ear.

Peter showed remarkable patience for a speedster. As you struggled to perfect the timing of your moves. He helped guide you through every piece of the game, whispering the occasional word of advice in your ear. Telling you where to aim your hits for the highest possible score. Standing like this, his body against yours; Peter seemed to have no intent to rush anything. With his fingers leading your own, the two of you cleared through your second round of pinball.

And by the third, you felt confident enough to try it on your own.

“You got this! Just gotta think quick, kay?” He muttered, delicate heat tickling your skin, “Think like me! Put that speedster groupie knowledge to good use, eh?”

Peter’s presence was incredibly distracting, pulling you straight out of the KISS centered game. For your first few, initial hits; your timing was terribly off. But redirecting your attention to the task at hand, you urged yourself to focus. You took Peter’s advice into consideration, aiming for those special targets in a more sequential order. And surprising even yourself, you scored higher than your last game with Peter. Quite the accomplishment! He pulled himself away from you, just to brace a large hand on your back. And Peter raised his other hand to give you a high five. Beaming a proud smile, he cheered with a laugh. “‘Atta girl! Told ya you could do it!”

“Ahhh! I actually did it! Holy shit, thanks!” You excitedly said, returning his high five.

You bounced in your spot, a bubbly, giggly mess of dorky enthusiasm. Peter smiled back a grin that warmed your adoring heart. And some secret, selfish part of you wished he’d press himself against you again.

Returning to the game, you found yourself antsy to use your newfound knowledge again. You gasped in an exaggerated fashion, jumping your focus down to the beeping, blinking machine. Another round of pinball already, unexpectedly began. Kudos to Peter and his stolen arcade tokens. A pressure of cozy warmth returned from behind you, as Peter inched himself into your back again. You could feel his chest against you, along with the faintest brush of his jeans to your ass. Heat stirred in your lower belly. And you froze in place, your shoulders stiff.

Focus.

You aimed the small, steel ball across a hellish, glittering landscape.

You managed to score even higher, despite the heated distraction of Peter’s body against you. Proud of yourself for another win, you cheered happily. Unintentionally, you wiggled your ass as you bounced in place. Your body rubbed into the crotch of Peter’s jeans. And his sizeable hands darted to your hips to keep you still. When you felt the pressure of those hands on you. Your skin burned beneath the fabric of your clothes, under his fingertips.

“Ohmygosh-” You gasped, ears tinted pink. Faintly, you whispered, “I-I’m so sorry if I’m movin’ around too much!”

Peter’s hands remained at your hips. And for less than a second, you felt his grip tighten. Before he let go completely, pulling his hands away after you stilled. He breathed a casual laugh, a dash of awkwardness sprinkled in the sound. You were staring down at the pinball lights, too preoccupied with hiding your embarrassed expression. And you didn’t notice the faint blush dusting Peter’s cheeks. “Yer cool, babe.” “Uhm-...anyway, uh…thanks for-uhm…for helpin’ me! Check that out, huh? I beat our score twice!” You said, excitable again. “What’re you thankin’ me for? Those last two were all you, baby!” Peter said. His smooth, casual drop of the word ‘baby’ had the stitches of your composure coming swiftly undone, “Wanna keep goin’? I got enough tokens to last us ‘til closing!” He leaned further against you, his head looming over your shoulder. Peter placed his hands at the sides of the machine, trapping you between him and KISS pinball itself. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his crotch brushed your ass for half a second more. And both of you pretended as though it didn’t happen at all. Your eyes curiously darted to one of Peter’s hands where it lay against the machine.

“Nah! Actually, I-I was kinda hopin’...uhm…c-could I watch you? Y’know…see the speedster hands in action?”

Standing up tall, Peter made a big show of preparing himself. He cracked his neck and his knuckles, before rolling his shoulders. Never once did he move from his spot, still pressed closely into your back.

“Sure! Watch and learn, lil groupie.” He joked. Peter then took over the controls to the game. Instantly, right before your eyes; Peter’s hands became a blur of flesh tones. He rapidly pressed the buttons with his fingers. A repetitive click click click erupted from his motions, followed by an unending series of beeps and clinks. Peter overshadowed your high-score in a matter of seconds. And as he did, you kept your eyes on his hands. Mystified with his movements, you let yourself relax between his arms. Testing his comfort zone. Peter didn’t flinch, nor did his focus tear from his task. He didn’t seem to mind your proximity, which made you feel that much more at ease. Settled into his body heat, you began to feel a bit stifled. A heavy, thick warmth lingered in the air between your bodies. You moved to shrug off your jacket, your ass rubbing his jean-clad crotch again.

His brows knit together suddenly, and Peter softly cleared his throat. “Sorry.” You whispered, tentative.

“‘S fine.” Was all Peter said, still concentrating. You were left in your X-Men tank-top, which hugged itself tightly around your body. In a flash, Peter took your jacket and slung it over the Pac-Man machine. You thanked him, but you must have been too slow in doing so. He already immersed himself back into the game, your thanks going unheard.

The silver balls moved across the board so quickly. And human eyes weren’t agile enough to catch the split-seconds in which Peter scored. So, you centered your gaze on his fingers again. Curiously, in a thought much too filthy, in the presence of a man you hardly knew; you wondered how those speedy fingers must feel. And you couldn’t help but ask yourself the depraved, sinful question…did Peter ever use his ultra-quick, mutant ability for…other things? Like, pleasuring a woman, perhaps? You tried to stop yourself from imagining what those blurring vibrations would feel like. If they buzzed across your sensitive skin. Over your nipples. Against your clit. How would his fingers feel, as they whispered with a teasing hum from deep inside you?

Such thoughts made you breathless, squeezing every ounce of life out of your lungs.

But in classic, KISS fashion; you were quite literally rocked out of your mind. As Peter’s hips abruptly thrusted into your ass, knocking you into the machine. You fell forward by a touch, bracing your hands on either corner. And you squeaked, turning your head as far back as you could to look at him. “Wh-What do you think you’re doin’??” You asked, your soft voice wavering.

Uneasily, you giggled. Beady confusion beamed within your eyes. When you looked at Peter like that, his inky pupils grew a smidge larger. He gave you the most passive, lax smirk. And feigning his innocence, Peter shrugged. “Uh? What’s it look like I’m doin’? I’m cheatin’ the game, babe. Gotta steer those speedballs somehow, don’t I? Why do you ask?”

Testing you, Peter rocked his hips forward again. Knocking you into the machine. You quietly squealed once more, as his crotch met your ass with a fierce pressure. An arousing, sexually charged heat sparked throughout your body, causing your cunt to weep.

Bold move, Quickie. But you could be bolder.

“Oh, n-no reason!” You looked back at Peter again, bashfully fluttering your lashes and swiping your tongue across your glossed lips, “My bad. You can keep playin’ however you want, Peter!”

A shit-eating grin stretched across his face, decorated with adorable dimples. And Peter took a quick glance down at your ass, as you nudged yourself so subtly into his crotch. He then gave the entire arcade a once-over, finding the space almost desolate. He jumped right back into his game of KISS pinball. Playing through it in the same way he had when you first laid eyes on him. With quick, speedy fingers rapidly pressing at the buttons. His hips repeatedly thrusted forward, using your body to rock the machine. Guiding those silver balls in whatever direction he needed. An air of tense, pleasurable passion teased every inch of your body. And in a distracted daze of desire, you nearly missed the moment in which Peter finally completed the game. Another round of KISS pinball, with his highest score yet. Peter truly was the pinball wizard. Breathlessly, you stood up a bit straighter, quietly clapping your hands. “Th-that was…fuckin’ incredible, dude!” You stammered through your blistering red cheeks, “Your gameplay, I mean. Haha…you make it look so easy!”

“Hey, it can be. It’s like I showed you! It’s allllll about the timing. Gotta think quick, babe.” Peter shrugged, laughing a hot exhale of breath. And the air danced across your temple, “Just don’t tell anybody that I’m a dirty cheater, alright? Could ruin my whole hero reputation!” He teased. You turned your head just slightly, enough to meet Peter’s eyes in a dark, lingering gaze.

“It’ll be our little secret, Quickie. I promise.” You whispered innocently, throwing him a coy wink.

You could see something shady and mysterious buried deep within those speedster eyes. And Peter swallowed, clearing his throat. He took a moment to check his surroundings again, observing to see if anyone else was around. The arcade was entirely empty now. Save for a scruffy, teenage boy at the ticket counter; his nose submerged in a magazine. Peter lowered his head enough to whisper in your ear again. Only now, his tone was much more low and…unexpectedly suggestive. “Say, uh…you wanna get outta here?” Reluctance infected his words. It was quite the bold request to ask of a stranger, after all, “Wanna go somewhere-uhm…more secluded, maybe?”

Fierce blush painted your face and neck, the heat almost suffocating. When you opened your mouth to speak, all that came out were jumbled, inaudible gasps of air. “Hey, it’s totally chill with me if yer not comfortable. Not tryna pressure you…” Peter, his body still pressed closely against yours, dropped his hands to your hips. He gently pulled your ass further into his – holy fuck, was he hard?? – and breathed with a mellow voice into your neck, “....It’s just…I’m catchin’ a helluva vibe from you, babe. And I gotta be honest…it’s really turnin’ me on.”

Was this…real? Or were you lingering on the edge of a deep, lustful dream? You knew you had to be passed out in your bed at home, seconds away from waking up to the shrill sound of your alarm. You only hoped you could drag out this incredibly realistic, sexually charged fantasy for a little longer. Just a few more seconds, at least! “H-Holy shit…really? Like, seriously? Are you totally sure, Peter?” “Wouldn’t ‘a asked if I wasn’t.” Peter joked, his tone hushed and playful. He let out a throaty chuckle, “Whaddya say? You-uh…you down to clown?” He then winced at himself, “Sorry, was-...that was so lame. Auugh.”

Your alarm hadn’t shocked you awake yet. …Maybe you were in a coma? Or…if this was reality, you had to be the luckiest person in the face of the entire galaxy, easily. No contest. You leaned back into Peter’s body just a little more, sinking into his open, silver jacket. Swallowing down the simmering anxiety in your belly, you shyly giggled. “Not at all! I’m so insanely down to clown. You could ask me to run away to the fuckin’ circus with you right now. And I’d drop everything just to go.”

Peter laughed, holding you a little too close to be appropriate for a public setting. Even if said public setting was devoid of any wandering eyes. With his hands on your hips, Peter made a move to twist you around. You braced your hands on his chest, surprised at the feel of how broad he was under your palms. Peter teased you, leaning in as though he were about to capture you in a heated kiss. His breath danced across your glossy, waiting lips. And you stood on your toes in an attempt to meet him halfway. He disappeared the instant your lips almost made contact. Leaving you aching for him to pull you close again. Peter disposed of whatever he left behind at the table. And he returned before you could even finish blinking. He held out a hand for you to take. Appearing shy, and perhaps even a bit less confident than he’d been throughout the night. This time around, you didn’t hesitate, for even a second, to take his hand in yours. “Where’re we takin’ this lil freakshow, freaky groupie?” Peter joked. You giggled again, pressing yourself eagerly into his side. Peter gladly accepted the proximity, leaning in closer to you. The two of you made your way out of the arcade, and into the darkness of the night. You batted your lashes up at him, smiling flirtatiously.

“I’ve got a car with a backseat…” You boldly suggested. Peter seemed caught off guard by your sudden confidence.

“Whoa…” He laughed, “You are freaky.”

His brown eyes widened, darkening in the dim light of the night. A speckle of neon color, reflected off the arcade’s sign, garnished his enlarged pupils. You found yourself mesmerized by his features yet again. A bashful smile trailing into the most charming of dimples. Faint glows of yellow and red dusting the skin of his face. Delicate strands of silver hair fluttering in the nightly, summer wind.

The parking lot outside was uncannily empty. City streets lacked any signs of life, almost feeling apocalyptic in nature. You lead Peter by his hand to your car, parked crookedly in a narrow parking space. It was the only car left in the lot. And by some miracle, it rested in a dark, unseen corner. Concealed under an umbrella of leaves dangling from a tree. As it just so happened…a perfect place for some late-night fooling around in public. And with the silver man of your dreams, no less.

Peter cornered you against the side of your car, his hips firmly pressing into yours. He allowed his hands to explore the curves of your body. You raised your arms, crossing your hands behind his neck as you pulled him close. Peter squinted in the dark, his eyes catching the shape of…something. A mark of some kind, etched into the skin of your shoulder. A tattoo.

You’d forgotten about it. A small, minimalistic print of a pair of goggles. Modeled after the ones Peter himself wore. Shaded in such a way, that it gave the appearance of silver. “What’s that?” He asked in a hushed voice. Peter raised his hand, lightly brushing a thumb across the slightly faded ink, “Meant to ask ya ‘bout it earlier…” Your eyes widened. And suddenly, you appeared both mortified and ridiculously embarrassed. Keeping a casual smile through your blush, you shrugged. Dropping your gaze to the earphones hanging around Peter’s neck. Faint music still echoing from their speakers. “Evidence of somethin’ I’m a lil too shy to admit to you right now…” You quietly said.

Peter grazed his thumb across the tattoo again, tickling you. Goosebumps littered your skin, your body erupting in faint chills. And Peter hummed a soft sound to himself. He leaned in, an inch away, breath ghosting your lips. “Yer a lil crazy about me, aren’t you?” He whispered with a sly smirk. You nibbled your lip, hesitant to say anything in response. Nodding your head, you huffed a quiet, bashful laugh. “What gave me away?” You joked, and reluctantly added, “...Sorry if that-uh…kills the vibe.” Peter shook his head, pressing himself even closer against you. Pinning you harder between your car and his hips. You felt the brush of something firm on your tummy. And realizing Peter Maximoff was hard at the concept of fooling around with you; you almost passed out right then and there. With one hand on your hip, Peter’s other moved up to your cheek.

“Call me a narcissist? It’s kinda doin’ the opposite.” Peter whispered. He paused, teasing you with a feather-light touch of his lips to yours, “...Ready fer me to make yer whole night, groupie?”

“H-How are you gonna-uhm-” You started to say, stumbling nervously over your own question. Anticipating his next move. Not that it mattered much, since you were abruptly interrupted. Finally breaking you free of his teasing, Peter let his lips meet yours. He kissed you with a cautious hesitance, lips soft and careful. And for a moment, somewhere in between a single second, and a thousand lifetimes; you let yourself bask in the feeling. The gentlest pressure from the lips of Peter Maximoff.

A dream unlike any you ever had in the past. Something unreal.

You found your confidence and threw caution to the wind. Pouring all of your love and adoration for the mutant speedster into your motions, you moved to cradle his face in your hands. The tiniest nibble of his teeth pinched the plush of your lip, urging you to grant Peter access. And you gladly welcomed him in. Remnants of Twizzler candy and sugary soda lingered on his tongue.

Peter let his hands dance across every inch of your body, as he made out with you in a flow of tense passion. And you giggled into his lips. He smiled so big in response. Huffing his own, dorky giggles between kisses.

“Wait wait wait-...lemme-” You nervously laughed. You made a move to pull your keys from your pocket. And even then, Peter refused to stop. Chuckling pleased moans, you searched your keyring for the right key. Peter trailed his lips from yours, down to your neck. His teeth and tongue finding a home on your skin. Once the door was unlocked, you fought to get it open behind you. Peter followed, laughing into every, breathy kiss he pressed to your neck. In seconds, you fell into the backseat of your car. Moving awkwardly, much like a crab, you inched yourself backwards. Before Peter came crawling in, his form looming over you in a shadow of living, breathing silver. The door closed behind him. In an instant, his lips clumsily met yours again. Peter’s fingers sank to the belt loops of your shorts, and he tugged on them to pull you close. Your hips followed his motions, grinding up into his crotch. Letting his own, low noises slide off his tongue; Peter kissed you with more intensity. It was difficult for the both of you to move in such a cramped space. Your limbs were tangled up in knots, knocking bones. And you bumped heads, casually laughing off any awkwardness that threatened to pull you both apart. Peter made you feel entirely at ease, as if you were only having careless fun. Peter sat up as much as he could, just to peel his jacket off his shoulders. From underneath him and between his legs, you watched him with a starry eyed look. Vision struggling to adjust in the darkness.

Your glossed lips, now puffy and wet, caught Peter’s eye. As they sparkled in the faintest, arcade-building light. His cock twitched in his jeans, nudging into your shorts. And Peter, in the process of removing his jacket, stopped at the halfway mark.

“Damn, baby…” He whispered to himself. He left the garment at his elbows, focusing instead on drinking down more of your hot, adoring kisses. You let your hands feel the jacked form of his body, palms gliding along his arms over his Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. The muscles of his arms flexed under your fingertips, and you squeaked out a kitten-like sound. Your fingers trailed a little lower, until they touched the smooth fabric of his silver jacket.

Suddenly, you remembered something. With a gasp, followed by another fit of silly giggles; you pulled yourself from Peter’s kisses. He chased you, moving to kiss your face and peppering his wet lips down your neck again. Nibbling faint marks into your skin. “Fuck! Wait! Dude! I-I left my jacket inside! And I’m – Ohhhh, holy shit, Peter.” You spoke through pleased whines, struggling to maintain focus, “Uh…I’m prettttyy sure that guy closed up shop the second we left!” “Mmmmm…don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll get it fer you tomorrow-” He hummed. A hand of his moved daringly over your chest, palming at one of your breasts over your top, “You can borrow mine tonight. If you want.”

Coma. You were definitely in a coma. No other logical explanation for what was currently happening.

Peter pulled his lips from your neck, his fingers sneaking under the hem of your top. Calloused fingertips grazed your tummy. And as you shyly looked up through the darkness, just to catch his eyes, Peter snickered. He poked his tongue between his teeth in a bashful grin. “What’s so funny?” You laughed casually, “I don’t look too ridiculous right now, do I?” Peter shook his head. His hand under the fabric of your top slid up further, his fingers meeting the edge of your bra. “What? Nah, yer great.” He said, “Just think it’d be-uh…totally hilarious…if you were wearin’, like…silver lingerie under this ‘er somethin’...” Peter joked. His cheeks flushed pink, but you couldn’t make out his blush in the dim light of the car. When he spoke again, he seemed to second guess himself, “Yer, like, not…are you?” You snorted, raising a brow. And you giggled playfully again, “W-Would you be into that? If I was?” “Ehh…might be a lil too much…” He bit his lip, timidly avoiding your eyes, “Wouldn’t know how I felt about it ‘til I saw.”

Nodding, you pulled him down by his shirt for another soft kiss. But in the process, the cord of his earphones tangled with your wrist. Peter laughed, reaching up to pull his earphones from around his neck. As he moved to toss them aside, you abruptly spoke.

“W-Wait!” You said. And Peter halted his movements, his earphones left dangling from his fingers, “I’m sorry! Sorry! But…I’ve always wanted to ask you about-uhm…about your music! What were you-uh…I mean, what’ve you been listenin’ to all day?” Peter seemed surprised by your question.

“Why don’t you listen fer yerself? See if you can guess. Since yer such a big ‘Quickie’ girl.”

He slid the earphones over your head, and the tune from inside echoed through your ears. Peter dragged a hand down to the Walkman hanging from his jeans. And he pressed a few buttons on it, restarting the tape. Instantly, your face lit up. Your smile a bright light, beaming through the darkness of the car.

“Fly by Night…” You whispered, a goofy grin spread across your face, “Rush! I shoulda guessed!”

Peter raised his brow again, a bit put off. Sitting up by a smidge, he threw you some finger guns. “Correctamundo.” Darting down, Peter captured you in another, more heated kiss. His large hands found your body again, returning to the smooth skin under your top. He pushed the fabric up over your chest, along with your bra (thankfully, not silver). And groaning a satisfied sound, he palmed your tits with the warmth of his hands. Pinching and twisting your nipples between his fingers.

“Wish I could see you better…bet you look so, deadly fine right now, baby.” He muttered. But Peter’s praises went unheard, as Rush’s Anthem radiated in a familiar buzz through your ears. Peter dove down to pull one of your nipples between his lips. And you ran a hand through his hair, accidentally knocking his signature goggles off his head. They hit the floor, and you broke into cute giggles again. Peter did the same, chuckling with heated breaths. Those same breaths simmering hotly over one of your tits. Morphing your giggles into mewls of pleasure. One of his hands traveled down, and Peter deftly unbuttoned your shorts. Sliding his fingers past the waistband, he quickly found your panties. He felt the soaked fabric with his fingertips. And his inky eyes lustfully gazed up at you from one of your tits. Pulling his lips and tongue from your nipple, he left a delicate trail of saliva. “Yer so fuckin’ wet fer me…jeez…” He whispered. And before he continued any further, he asked, “This okay?” You clumsily moved to adjust the earphones on your head, leaving one ear open. The hot, thick air, accumulated within the small space of the car, felt suffocating to your lungs.

“W-What’d you say?” “I asked if this was okay.” He smirked. Peter’s fingers connected with your clit over your panties, teasing you with the slightest pressure, “That feel good, babygirl? You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

Instantaneously, you reacted. Your teeth sank into your lip, and you frantically shook your head. “Please don’t stop, Peter. Please.” You begged. “I’ll do this forever if you keep beggin’ me like that.” He teased through a toothy grin, “I can go all night.”

Before you could even begin to blink, Peter’s hand sank under the wet fabric of your panties. The pads of his fingertips circled your clit in quick motions. You opened your mouth to moan, and Peter sank down to kiss you. Swallowing your noises, allowing his lips to move against yours in a hot, heavy pace. His large fingers then slid to your entrance, and Peter shoved them between your slick walls. Deep inside, all the way to the knuckle. “F-Fuck!” You cried out in a squeal, as his thick digits breached your tight cunt. Peter’s tongue flicked over yours, and he groaned.

His sizeable fingers plunged themselves through your walls in repetitive, speedy motions. Expertly, Peter curled them. Knowing exactly what to do to draw more of those cute noises out of you. Your body quivered beneath him, and you braced a hand on his broad shoulder. Mere seconds away from orgasm already, you rolled your hips into his hand. And Peter, mister pussy genius himself, abruptly stopped.

“N-No! No, please please please!” You begged. Teasing you torturously, he steadily pulled his fingers from your weeping cunt. Peter then took to rubbing your clit once more, in feather-light circles. An agonizing pace, leaving you throwing your head back in frustration. You tried rolling your hips into his hand again, throwing not-so-subtle hints that you needed more than what he gave. A smug grin played on Peter’s lips, and he moved to nip at your ear. “Patience, lil groupie.” He chuckled, hot breath teasing, “You can be patient fer me, can’t you? Hmm?”

“Please! Anything, Peter! Just please – I was so close, baby!”

“Yeah?” Peter taunted, his smirk impish and mocking.

Suddenly, the softest, most rapturous, little buzz teased your clit. A squeezing vibration shot its way through your stiff bud. And you choked out a broken, whiny moan. Your brain short-circuited. And for a hot second, you failed to register where such an insanely pleasant sensation even came from.

“O-Oh! Oh, what the fuck??” You mewled. You realized then, Peter’s speedster fingers were vibrating between your lips. He pressed that oh-so-glorious buzz a little further into your clit. And just like that, instantly, you came undone. Never in your life, had you cum so fast. Your legs trembled, hips instinctively rocking into Peter’s mutant touch. He snickered into your neck, his heated breaths tickling across the marks he made there.

“Therrrre it is…” He whispered, “…you sound soooo fuckin’ pretty when you cum. Don’t think I’m gonna stop…” After you surpassed the peak of orgasmic bliss, that euphoric rumble never ceased. Vibrating fingers toyed with your oversensitive clit for a few seconds longer. Overstimulating you beyond any rational thought. Laughing out moans of surprise, you begged for Peter to stop. And you wrapped a hand around his wrist over his watch, urging him to give you a break. But with immovable strength, Peter continued on. Subjecting you to kinky, Quicksilver torture.

Thick digits pushed through your walls again. The slick from your previous orgasm allowed for easier access. And those buzzing fingers fucked your cunt at an even faster pace. Inhumanly fast. Fast enough, that your amorous brain couldn’t think of anything else. Nothing beyond the mind-altering pleasure surging through your body. For years, your attention had been drawn only to Quicksilver. Quicksilver. Quicksilver.

But in this moment, your plump lips spoke in an intimate mantra of Peter. Peter. Peter.

Peering down at you with a fiery look in his beautiful, doe-like eyes; Peter let his fingers work their buzzing, speedster sorcery between the plush of your walls. And before you could even grasp what was happening; another, more intense orgasm ripped through your core. You writhed in place, squirming around Peter’s thick digits. Your pussy fluttered in a rhythmic movement along with those blissful vibrations. Tears pooled in your eyes, pouring down your cheeks. Evidence of your immense overstimulation. Peter gave you not a single second of recovery time. Before his fingers sank themselves knuckle deep inside you all over again. Whirring vibrations shot up to a strength you never imagined possible. So far beyond anything felt from a sex toy. Using his gift of mutant speed, he fingerfucked you impossibly faster. Shuddering cries leaked into the heat of his mouth, as his lips enveloped yours once more. You scrambled to grab at anything you could, your body unable to keep itself still. Tense, sore muscles braced themselves for an oncoming wave. And the slick walls of your cunt tightened around Peter’s humming digits. “That’s it – fuck yeah. Love it when you moan like that, pretty girl.” He breathed hotly into your mouth, “Such a good, lil groupie fer me, huh? You gonna cum again? I know you got one more in you, baby. Please-”

Your third orgasm was near-instantaneous; your cunt spilling slick, wet heat all down Peter’s hand, soaking your panties and shorts. He finally let up then, pulling his drenched fingers from your pussy. Gracing you with sweet, merciful freedom. Peter sat up over your lap, his head knocking the ceiling of your car. He raised his brows, as if in awe. And in a moment you could swear was a delusional hallucination, Peter brought his fingers to his lips. He let his eyes fall closed, as he tasted the kiss of your cunt on his digits.

You were completely spent, lying there on your elbows with your head lolled back. And you breathed in exasperated pants. Inside your shorts, your pussy pulsated. Soaking itself further; a catalyst of Peter’s gracious attention. Innocently looking up at him with your own, half-lidded eyes; you pulled your lip between your teeth. And you moved to slide onto the floor of your car, awkwardly situating yourself between Peter’s legs. His brows furrowed, and he stared down at you with confusion evident in his features. One of his hands darted to the top of your head, gently dragging a thumb along the soft strands of your hair. Peter rushed out a speedy flurry of words, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey-” and he sat up a bit in his seat, “What do you think yer doin’? You really don’t gotta do this, babe. This is all more fer you, than it is fer me. Y’know that, right? Seriously. Don’t even worry about-”

You fumbled with the buttons of Peter’s silver jeans as he talked. Over eager and impatient, you pulled the thick length of his cock from its fashion-disaster confines. The length twitched with a strong pulse in your small hand. And you found yourself in awe of its size. “Oh, fuck-” He let his head fall back, as he reveled in the feeling of your soft hand slowly stroking him.

Pulsating veins buzzed with subtlety under your fingertips. Always in motion. And one of his hands traveled to the top of your head, bracing a large palm there.

Leaning slowly in, you flicked your tongue across the tip to tease. Before taking the bulbous, leaking head of Peter’s cock into your mouth. Allowing the length to slide further past the slick wetness of your tongue, you sank even lower. You bobbed your head over Peter’s cock in fast motions, moving with as much consistency as you could. The smooth texture of your tongue swiped along those faintly, buzzing veins. Taking his cock even deeper, you let the head meet the back of your throat. Fighting the urge to gag, you focused on coating Peter’s aching length in thick saliva. Peter’s hand over your head clenched his fingers, tugging your hair. He moaned, and you felt the most cautious movement of his hips. Peter resisted the urge to fuck his cock further down your throat, holding himself back for your sake. You gazed up at him sweetly, fluttering your lashes. Pulling off his cock, you stroked the wetness of the length with a hand. Your fingers squeezing him with a firm, generous pressure. “Y’know…you can fuck my mouth, honey. I don’t mind. I know you want to.” You chimed, a coy giggle dripping from your drooling lips. Peter raised his head, and he arched a brow. “Yeah? Yer soundin’ pretty confident there, groupie.” He panted. Peter smirked, “I wouldn’t act so cocky. I move hella fast, baby. Don’t think you’d want me chokin’ you out.”

“Try me.” You threw him a wink. And both his brows shot up in surprise.

“Damn. Alright. If you say s-” You quickly took his cock into your mouth again, sinking as far as your throat would allow. A bush of silver hairs tickled your lips and nose. And Peter threw his head back again, curling his fingers deeper through your hair. He cursed under his breath, huffing a high-pitched whine as you bobbed your head.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.” And he gave in. Peter met every one of your bobs with sharp thrusts, fucking his cock so deep into your throat. You moaned around him, swirling your tongue along those veins. Choking on his dick, you felt your throat constrict. Squeezing Peter’s cock, letting copious amounts of drool and precum spill down his length. Providing even more, heated lubricant.

He brought his head up again, only so he could watch you take him. His cock disappeared between your lips with every speedy thrust. Your eyes were stained red, flooding with tears and half-lidded. Your lip gloss long-since smeared across the sides of your face. You heaved struggled breaths through your nose, and Peter’s cock twitched against your tongue. “You look so fuckin’ hot lookin’ at me like that, fuck-” He huffed, chuckling through his moans, “Gonna make me cum in that pretty mouth.” The words were spoken as a warning, urging you to pull off should you want to. But you continued with determination. Taking Peter’s pulsating cock despite your body’s reluctance. Both of his hands gripped your head tightly, his thrusts growing more rough and frantic. He fucked your mouth with relentless, powerful surges of superspeed. Abusing your lips and tongue.

“G-Gonna fuckin’-” Peter whined another high-pitched moan, “C-FUCK! Fuck, baby! Cumming! Shit, I’m sor-” Peter groaned in hushed, animalistic growls, as he shot a hot stream of cum down your throat. And a subconscious part of you felt immensely grateful you wouldn’t have to taste it. No offense to Peter, of course.

You pulled off Peter’s cock, letting more sticky saliva seep from your tongue. He slumped back in his seat, laughing as he took a moment to catch his breath. Running a hand through his mussed, silver hair; he sighed in satisfied content. And finally, he moved to pull his jacket off the rest of the way. He let it carelessly hang from his hand, waving it at you like a religious offering.

“Keep this fer the night if you want. I’m bein’ so real with you, babe.” He huffed through deep pants of air, his chest heaving under his t-shirt, “Whatever, right? You want anything else? I fuckin’ owe you after that. Fuck.” Assuming him to be delirious under a happy haze of post-orgasmic bliss, you chuckled at his words. You reached out to take Peter’s jacket. Folding it neatly and setting it aside on the console behind you.

“I’ll make sure to give it back asap, okay? Promise. Cross my heart.” You said in a rough, sore voice. A giggle erupted in your throat, straining your tired muscles. And you coughed. “You okay?” Peter asked, genuinely concerned, “Sorry. Told you I can get a little-uh…rough.” “It’s all good, dude!” Your voice came out scratchy as you spoke, a smile playing at your lips, “No biggie!”

Adjusting your position on the floor of your car, you shifted on your knees. Peter’s lidded gaze watched your every move, taking in the sight of you between his legs. Your soft features seemed to mesmerize him, plump lips plush and wet from the abuse of his cock. And his rough fondling left the delicate strands of your hair messily tousled.

Breathing shallow breaths, Peter knocked his head back against the seat.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.” He groaned. “You alright up there, Peter?” You asked through a hoarse giggle. And Peter sighed. “Uhhh…sorta...” He ran a big hand down his face, pulling the skin of his cheeks with it, “Yer just…really hot. Makin’ my dick hard again.”

Stunned, you took a sudden glance down at Peter's lap. And sure enough, his wet cock stood to attention again. Blistering red and aching for your touch, the length twitched with a pulsating movement. Your tongue watered at the sight. Reaching out, you wrapped a gentle hand around Peter's cock.

"Holy shit…" You chuckled, stars sparkling in your eyes once more, "That was fast! I mean, I shouldn't be surprised, but…wow! Does this sorta thing always happen?" Peter shrugged.

"Kinda?" He exhaled a breath of hot air, “Sometimes, yeah.”

Keeping his doe-eyed gaze fixed on the ceiling of the car, Peter fell silent. You stroked him slowly, running your thumb across the sensitive tip of his cock. He appeared to be lost in thought. As if fighting some internal war.

Lazily, he blinked. And Peter stuck a hand out to gently grab your wrist, stopping your movements. "S-Stop…" He mumbled. Peter then looked down at you again, meeting your eyes with an intense and lustful gaze. And he smirked, "Whaddya say you-uh…climb on up here and ride me, babe?" Your cheeks ached in a fiery blaze, burning hot. No way Peter Maximoff just spoke those words aloud in reference to you.

"Shouldn't we-uhm…like, you got any-" You started to ask in a reluctant tone. “Why? You clean?” You blinked, tilting your head. “Yeah! Of course! Shit, you think I get around? Look at me!” Awkwardly, you adjusted your glasses, “I was more askin’ because-” “Oh, that? Pfffbbt…you think you gotta worry ‘bout that, baby? Hellllooo? I’m fast, remember? Mega fast. My pullout game is totally outrageous, princess.” Those little nicknames Peter kept dropping so casually, flustered you into silence. You nodded in understanding. And in another awkward attempt at squeezing your body through the cramped space of your car, you climbed your way into Peter’s lap. You pulled the earphones resting on your head downward, allowing them to hang around your neck. Their cable a mess of knots between yours and Peter’s breathless, heated bodies. You both fell into bruising, wet kisses. Giggling in hushed hums and whispers. Somehow, you managed to shuck your shorts and panties down your legs. And you positioned yourself over Peter’s leaking cock. Hot, sticky, summer heat swarmed your car, stifling the both of you. The sweltering air only seemed to permeate, growing thicker. As your bodies drew in that much closer. Weeping slickness from your cunt provided the smoothest of entrances for Peter’s large cock. And in one, fluid motion; he buried his entire length to the hilt.

“W-Wow-...fuck – I knew you’d be tight, but-” Peter choked on his own words, throwing his head back for a quick second, “D-Don’t think I’m gonna fuckin’ last like this, baby.”

Those beautiful eyes of his, pools of black covering warm brown, watched you carefully for any signs of discomfort. Peter allowed you a meager moment to adjust to the thick, girthy feel of him deep inside you. Experimentally, he bucked his hips once. A single time, pushing his cock impossibly deeper.

“That feel good? C’mon, lil groupie, don’t get all quiet on me-” He murmured, “Tell yer favorite hero how fuckin’ good he makes you feel, yeah?”

You choked on a broken squeal, and Peter pulled you in for a giggle-fueled kiss. His veiny hands fell to your hips, squeezing tightly. And you bounced on his cock, as he began pounding into you with unforgiving force. Sitting atop his lap, such a position enabled Peter to effortlessly hit your cervix with every thrust. Fucking you deep deep.

One of his hands moved to push your shirt up, along with your bra. Leaving your tits halfway exposed to him, bouncing along with his thrusts. Faint, neon lights of red and yellow were all that illuminated the darkness of the car. And a quiet, muffled tune buzzed from the speakers of his earphones around your neck. They followed the movements of your tits, bouncing in place. With each passing second, Peter fucked you that much harder. Pounding your pussy with so much passionate intensity; your cunt squeezed around his cock. All in a desperate attempt to milk him free of whatever he had left.

Playful giggles, moans of ecstasy, and heated pants of air all merged into one. Each noise interrupted by the sloppy, wet touch of lips and tongues. Your hands carded through Peter’s hair, tugging lightly at the silver strands. And he moaned, burying his nose between your tits. Plunging his cock into you so deeply, the pressure ached in your lower belly. Caught up in the amorous heat of the moment, Peter became much too distracted. By your infectious giggles and squeals. The incomprehensible tightness of your cunt around his cock. The intimacy of being so close, with a cute stranger, in such a humid, shadowy space. “P-Peter! I-I’m cumming – fuck!” You cried, tears stinging your eyes.

“That’s it, babygirl! Cum fer me. Cum fer Quicksilver! Oh, fuck – yer gettin’ tighter! Feels so fuckin’ awesome! FUCK-” You both met each other at the peak with playful laughter and warm smiles. Unraveling beneath one another’s sweaty palms. Intense, overstimulating release fired through your bodies all at once. And you shuddered around Peter’s throbbing cock, clenching him in the tightest of vice grips. His thrusts sped to a degree so incredibly fast, right on the cusp between pleasure and pain. He spilled his thick cum deep into your cunt, filling you up so full of his heat. And in the cloudiest of post-orgasmic hazes, you merely laughed in delight. You chuckled into the mouthiest of tongue kisses, enveloping Peter in a filthy, sweat-drenched embrace. Sat in his lap, Peter’s softening cock cozy between your walls; you let your head fall onto his shoulder. Silence overtook the thick air of the car. Only interrupted by shallow breaths, and the faintest hum of Rush guitar solos.

You gasped suddenly, sitting upright in one, quick motion. And Peter trembled, feeling your body squirming around his sensitive cock. He blinked slowly and lazily, overhearing a string of words he completely missed. Too engrossed in the vague image of you before him. A totally random, Quicksilver, fangirl groupie. Looking like a complete, fucked-out mess on his lap. Your neck was decorated in speckles of tiny, love bites. A single, purple hickey had been sucked into your chest. Peter blinked. And with a satisfied, lidded gaze; he nonchalantly grinned. “Hmmm?” He hummed, and you playfully scoffed. Rolling your eyes, “Sorry, what? You got me soooo distracted, baby. I was kinda losin’ myself there fer a sec.” And under his breath, he mumbled, “Was almost ready fer round three.”

Blush painted your face, and you avoided Peter’s eyes. “Uh…thanks?? Wow, can’t even believe you just said that! But, I-I said-...you kinda came inside me, dude.” Keeping his lazy smirk, Peter pursed his lips a bit in thought. Seemingly completely unphased, he shrugged. If he felt anything at all about busting a nut in you, he maintained his collected cool. “Felt hella fuckin’ good. Didn’t it, though?” He said, lackadaisical.

“Uh…yeah? No duh, genius. But…I mean…Peter…” You stumbled over your next words, scrambling for a way to articulate your worries, “What if-...y’know…”

With one hand balanced on your hip, Peter raised his other. And he waved you off, unconcerned.

“Chillax, babe. It’s probably fine.” He said, “Ain’t nothin’ but a thannnng. We’ll cross that paternal bridge when we come to it, kay?”

In the face of something so potentially life changing, Peter was uncomfortably relaxed about it. You were almost put off by such carelessness, but forced yourself to laugh it off all the same. In one, shaky movement; you pulled yourself off his lap. Slumping down in the backseat next to him; the two of you remained hot-boxed in a thick, sultry air of sex. The windows of your car had fogged over, faint neon lights shining vaguely through the glass. With his head leaned back against the seat, Peter stared up at the ceiling. A black void of endless darkness. One of his hands snuck its way next to you, his fingers entalging with yours. “I had a righteous time hangin’ out with you tonight, groupie.” Peter abruptly said, “Just so ya know. Most fun I’ve had with anybody in a while, if I’m totally honest.”

Turning slightly in your seat, you giggled, “Yeah? You-uh…you can’t even imagine what this has been like for me. But…thanks, Peter.” You paused, only to continue with a teasing tone, “I bet you do this kinda thing with every, diehard, Quicksilver girl, huh?”

He furrowed his brows at you, laughing through an accusatory scoff.

“Ya think?” He shook his head, pausing to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, “I mean…sometimes? Rarely? B-But I never-uh…” Peter sank his teeth into his lip, “I never, like, go all the way with ‘em. I mean, can you fuckin’ imagine?”

“Wait…what? Really?” You gave Peter a confused look of disbelief, “So…why did we-...why me? The fuck?”

Peter’s lips curled into a shy, half smirk.

“Just got caught up in the moment, I guess. And we were havin’ such an awesome time! You were laughin’. I was laughin’. You looked sooooo fine. From what I could see of ya, anyway. And you smelled so nice. Fuck, I dunno!” Peter rambled through sleepy giggles, throwing one of his hands up.

“Damn…” You shook your head, taken aback, “That’s…wow. You really mean all that? Sounds like a dream. Feel like I’m gonna wake up at home any second now.”

“No, yer definitely right! I’m a total dreamboat.” He grinned confidently, leaning his head back, “And the ride’s over. Want me to pinch ya?”

You snuggled up into Peter’s side, sinking your body into the warmth radiating from his body. “Not yet.” You mumbled, nuzzling your nose into his neck, “Lemme enjoy this a lil longer.”

“Anything you want, babe.” Peter turned his head, pressing a kiss to the top of yours, “Can I ask you somethin’, like, mad crazy?” He whispered into your tousled hair. “Hmmm?”

“Any chance I could see you tomorrow? Just to, like…take you out to lunch ‘er whatever?” Instantly, you sat up in your seat. Your eyes sparkled with those familiar stars of loving admiration again. And you brought a hand up to your face in awe. “Are you-...are you bein’ totally serious???” “Uh, yeah? I’m bein’ totally serious. I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I owe you, foxy momma.” Peter shrugged, “Plus, I gotta get you yer jacket back too, remember? So…why not?” And rather shyly, he added, “We’ll call it a date.”

Falling forward to conceal your excitement, you buried your nose in Peter’s neck again. Dear lord in heaven above, never wake me from this coma, you thought.

“Like I’d ever say no…” You giggled, “Thanks for everything. Seriously. This is…totally insane. OH! And thanks for teachin’ me how to play Pinball. Even if you did get super horny about it.”

“Oh, I’m the one who got horny about it? Please.” Peter playfully scoffed, “I had nothin’ but innocent intentions, baby! You were basically beggin’ fer me to bend you over that thing.” He feigned a disappointed sigh, “And I Totally would’ve played some Pac-Man with you instead.” And Peter’s voice fell into a silent whisper, “My bad fer abusin’ that poor machine…”

“Wait, what?” You broke out into a laughing fit, “You’re the reason that Pac-Man machine doesn’t work? Why am I not surprised?”

Peter gave you a look of fake offense, scoffing once more. And again, he pulled you in for more of those addicting, giggly kisses. You were most definitely, without a doubt, the luckiest Quicksilver fangirl on the planet.

Praise be to our lord, our god Paul Stanely, and KISS pinball.

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