#(( the team supreme || the new mutants ))

[iconuk01]

Not Warlock's most efficient battle armour for Doug, but one that was pretty much inevitable...

by Sonny Strait, 2009

#doug ramsey #cypher #Warlock #new mutants #sonny strait #selfsoulfriends #team supreme #sketch card #lost in space

[silverzoomies]

Screwball

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: smut, slow burn, kissing, hand jobs, loss of virginity, temperature play, mutant reader, ice powers, porn with plot, clunky writing

word count: 14,151

a/n: im so late posting this. i meant to finish this one like a month ago. but it's already september !! and a heatwave fic seems so out of season !! oh well !! i hope someone out there enjoys this. i went through hell tryin' to finish it. but i'm pretty happy with the way it panned out,,

apologies for the usual: clunky writing, slow as fuck execution, potentially ooc dialogue, etc etc etc kbgsjbdghsoiheg

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Westchester, New York had never seen such a record breaking heat wave.

And in all his reckless, fast paced years up to the ripe age of thirty, neither had Peter.

His fragmented memory is jam packed. Cluttered with disorganized checklists of every place he’s ever been. Not that he’s bragging or anything. But Peter’s basically seen the entire world, and then some. If one were to count those gnarly, X-Men space missions. He’d gone places no non-mutant could ever conceivably dream of reaching. From the deathly cold peak of Mount Everest, to the blistering sands of the Sahara desert itself.

Even with all that collected experience, Peter’s a hundred percent sure; he’s never faced summertime heat as insanely lethal as this.

Okay, sure. Maybe declaring Westchester as hotter than the Sahara might be a bit of a stretch. But to Peter’s credit, this heat wave is dangerous enough to warrant a citywide advisory. Which, in layman’s terms, means: don’t get ballsy. Unless you wanna end up fryin’ like an egg on the sidewalk.

The weather outside is so grisly, in fact, the X-Men themselves had to call their latest mission quits. Imagine that! Crazy, right? A fierce team of mutant heroes, capable of taking on behemoth sized sentinels. And even they didn’t dare another second in the heat.

Peter detached himself from the concept of religion ages ago. But thank the mysterious powers above, whoever they may be. Because he was legit two seconds away from collapsing to the ground, in a boiled heap of skin and bone.

He stumbles off the X-jet on wobbly legs. And no joke, Peter swears his muscles have somehow melted into jelly. It’s supremely embarrassing, the way he struggles to keep up with the team as they move ahead. They all stop before going upstairs, waiting to reconvene with Xavier. Organized in a careless, half circle; the X-Men look as though they’ve returned from an Olympic marathon. Their bodies exhausted, and blanketed in buckets of sweat.

Naturally, on account of Peter’s super dope, mutant genes; his body functioned at a nonstop rate of super sonic speed. As a repercussion, his average body temperature burned leagues hotter than any non-mutant’s. It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to dread the tormenting heat of the summer season.

In the blazing eye of a dangerous heat wave, swarming the city like an apocalyptic storm; Peter’s absolutely certain – like, for sure, he’s teetering on the brink of death. A miserable, stewing-in-your-own-sweat kinda death. Leave it to Logan to recite the eulogy at Peter’s funeral. No doubt, Wolvie would have nothing but positive things to say about Peter after he died. Most definitely.

Peter might be a teensy bit freaked out actually. Since he had no idea he was even capable of experiencing heat exhaustion. It almost makes him paranoid. Like a hypochondriac with a chest ache. In an attempt to force his recovery, Peter chugs through exactly thirteen bottles of dollar store water in a flash. The source of his stash? A stainless steel, mini fridge in Hank’s lab.

He knows Hank’s gonna be totally peeved when he finds the fridge raided clean. But Peter doesn’t bother worrying about that right now. Instead, he makes a mental reminder: Water bottles. An IOU. One he’ll probably forget about within the next two seconds. And never get around to fulfilling.

Professor Chucksters is talking, but Peter can’t find it in himself to listen to a single word. Whatever momentous info the ol’ baldy drops, flies a thousand miles over his feverish head. Peter cranes his neck back in overheated agony, lazily chugging Hank’s last remaining bottle of crisp, cold water. The smooth bite of that cold down Peter’s throat makes him exhale with relief through his nose.

Halfway through, he stops to shower his head in the rest. Letting chilly droplets rain down over his silver hair. Sharp tingles erupt down his neck and across his shoulders. Peter shudders, humming in delight to himself.

Oh. Shit. Wait…

Peter then comes to the regrettable realization that, in a heatwave so hazardous; water is a necessity to be shared.

No shit, blockhead.

Now, mind you, Peter isn’t known for his forethought. He’s pretty overzealous. Had he taken time to stop and think for a hot sec…yeah. Sure. Maybe he should’ve been more mindful of his suffering teammates. Oopsie daisies.

Much like a careless dog, Peter shakes off the cold drops soaking his hair. Sprinkles of water splash all around him, with Jubilee caught in the line of fire. She jumps in place with an abrupt, but silent exclamation of ‘ew!’ Shooting Peter a look of burning fury. Damp strands of Peter’s hair fan over his eyes. He runs his fingers slowly through them to give his forehead some air.

Maybe Peter’s a little delusional. Because he swears on his life he catches a red tint in Jubilee’s cheeks. She scoffs, like she can’t stand his bullshit. He throws her a wink. A beat later, she smiles and rolls her eyes.

Peter smirks. Lucky for him, his speedster charm has yet to fizzle out.

The team waits patiently for their opportune moment to flee. It’s obvious they’re all pretty antsy. Probably since they’re dying to change into something lighter. Better fitted for Satan’s city wide celebration of hellfire and brimstone. Anything but the jumpsuits, at least. But that’s just a hunch.

In Peter’s own personal opinion? The most ideal scenario would be to strut around naked, in nothing at all. Sounds awesome, right? Freedom from the suffocation of needless threads! However, societal standards and modern customs definitely wouldn’t allow such debauchery. Not to mention, Peter isn’t super keen on the idea of peeping his teammates in their birthday suits.

Except for Raven, maybe. He never gets tired of looking at those scales. All that blue. Nice.

Oh. And…you. Frankly, Peter’s willing to risk it all just to catch a glimpse of you in the buff.

He swallows a thick lump forming in his throat, sneaking a lightning fast glance in your direction. Observing you with a gawking gaze, Peter ignores the way his heartbeat kicks up to roadrunner speed. Faster than fast. Like, cartoonishly fast. It’s ridiculous.

You’re completely impervious to any heatwave debuffs. Lucky lucky. Standing there without a care in the world, you listen attentively to professor Charlie Brown’s ramblings. Since you’re so distracted, Peter lets his speedy eyes shamelessly wander. Trailing down the glittering, icy blue of your jumpsuit. Uniquely personalized to coincide with your wintry gimmick.

Which doesn’t at all explain why it’s so inappropriately skin tight.

Peter feels himself choke on his next breath. But he’s quick to blame it on the weather. Yeah. It’s just the heat that’s stifling him. Nothing else. Get real, dude.

The sparkling material of your suit hugs your figure a little too perfectly. Complementing every irresistible curve. Peter always thought you looked so ludicrously fine in that suit. If not way, way, way too distracting. Sometimes, he found it ultra hard – ignoring any euphemisms – to maintain focus during missions. Usually because your frosty ass came twinkling in his peripheral, throwing off his mojo.

But let’s chalk Peter’s lack of focus up to his chronic ADD instead, ‘kay?

Heck. Maybe it wasn’t the ADD’s fault. At least, not entirely. Like, cut the bullshit for a sec. Peter doesn’t have a lot of sexual experience. He’s never gone any further than a dozen heated sessions of heavy petting. And from time to time, though he hates to admit it; it haunts him. The way he’s so suppressed. Overflowing with pent-up desire.

Thirty years old and still a virgin? Clock’s ticking, Quickie. No wonder he can’t take his hungry eyes off your body.

Speaking of your body.

Damn, is it hot in here? Or is it just you?

It’s most definitely not you.

Your body naturally radiates a refreshing aura of frigidity. It’s no coincidence, the way your teammates linger so closely in your proximity. Peter can’t really blame them for doing so. You’re the human equivalent of an icebox. Even a touch of your finger could turn the entire X-mansion into a winter wonderland. Part of him wonders why you haven’t done so already. Since you’d be sparing everyone the infernal anguish of this awful heat wave.

Maybe you’re just as absentminded as he is.

Anyway, right about now, Peter desperately yearns to be a long lost tub of neapolitan. Stuffed deep inside your metaphorical freezer.

Which…sounds way dirtier than intended.

Fuck. Alright. Moving on.

Tugging at the collar of his jumpsuit, Peter fights to catch his breath. The fierce heat from outside has somehow seeped its way into the X-Men’s base of operations. Almost like an act of god. Or more like a punishment, maybe.

In desperate need of relief, Peter looks to you once more. He finds himself struck with an ingenious, lightbulb moment then.

A blink, and he bolts, appearing directly behind you. A faint gust of wind flutters your hair. But the breeze fails to even make you flinch. Peter isn’t the least bit subtle with his actions, as he presses his burning body a little too closely into your back. And hoooooooooooooo mama! The sweet relief of your icy presence is so worth any consequences, should they arise.

You whip your head around suddenly, giving Peter a weird look and a once over. He can’t really blame you for staring at him like that. Sure, you’re both teammates. Even family, one might argue. You’re both fighting for the same cause. But you haven’t built an inseparable bond with Peter or anything.

Honestly, he’d be totally down if you did. But that’s neither here nor there.

Peter always thought you were pretty damn cool. In more ways than one, if your glacial mutation was included in the mix. If he were more honest with himself, he would’ve acknowledged his dumb, boyish crush on you an entire ice-age ago. Oh well.

He’s still too much of an awkward spaz for his own good sometimes.

You seem…confused. Staring at Peter as if silently asking him a question. If he had to guess, it’s probably something along the lines of – what the hell do you think you’re doing, you handsome scoundrel? Peter exchanges your puzzled look with an uneasy smile. Dramatically, he fans himself with a hand. Hoping you get the hint, he pokes his tongue out to playfully express his suffocating torment.

Thankfully, you pick up what he’s putting down. As you turn back around, you giggle cutely. Peter breathes an alleviating sigh. He’s left to bask in the glory of your wintry aura. So freeing, and so, so cold. He could kiss you as a thanks, if only you’d let him. But you’ve already directed your attention to Xavier’s painfully long lecture.

Wait. Seriously, how long was this talk supposed to last? It feels like a million years at this point and-

Peter checks the Star Trek watch on his wrist. It’s only been…five minutes. Huh.

The gathering of ye olde X-council draws to a close. At long last! Xavier wraps up his spiel of heroic efforts , world peace , and wonderful work everyone. Bla bla bla. Don’t get Peter wrong. He harbors a lot of respect for the guy. Any other day, and he would’ve found those words somewhat awe inspiring. If not the slightest bit misguided.

But today? Professor, dude, now’s not the time to be preaching words of wisdom. Your nerd club’s literally cooking from the inside out. Give it a rest.

The team wastes no time. As soon as Chuck’s given the go-ahead, they’re gone. High-tailing it upstairs as fast as their tired legs can go. Which isn’t all that fast. At least, not by Peter’s standards. But he’s hella impressed with the enthusiasm.

Unlike everyone else, you move at a frustratingly slow pace. Walking behind you feels akin to waiting too long in a DMV line. Something Peter’s never had to do a single day in his life. And he’s not about to start now. It’s monotonous, and borderline infuriating. But his heightened impatience is probably just another consequence of this outrageous heat.

You take your sweet ass time – and holy moly, did you have a sweet ass – as you ascend to the first floor of the X-mansion. Peter follows after you like a lost puppy, not too far behind. On your way to – presumably – your room, you climb another, dreaded flight of stairs. And since when were stairs a hindrance to a speedster like Peter? He’s never once felt winded making a simple ascent like this. Ever.

Peter’s growing more and more restless. His skin feels sticky and uncomfortable under his jumpsuit, but he can’t rush home to grab a change of clothes. He’s unwilling to risk a race through whatever hellscape lies in waiting outside. No matter how little time it takes him. Not while his lungs are cooking to a crisp.

He aches for the touch of your icy hands. Plain and simple. Nothing to it. Nothing sexual. No strings attached.

Unless…you had a preference for strings. Peter would tie them around his wrists and move like a marionette puppet if you asked. Shit, you want a whole show? Bring out the dancing Muppets.

Midway through your ascent, Peter appears in front of you. He stops you suddenly, leaning casually with his hand against the wooden railing. His other hand rests on his hip. Lamely, he forces himself to act as naturally as he can. Which is virtually impossible, considering the circumstances. But even so, Peter throws you his signature grin and nods his head.

Be cool, dude. Be cool. Ease into it. Just try not to think about how you’re literally baking to death here.

His overheated exhaustion is impossible to miss. Even a dense chimp in a blindfold could sense something’s off about him. The quick rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a dead give away. Revealing how labored his breathing really is. Trickles of sweat race in a tense competition down Peter’s temples. Warm heat pools in his cheeks, and his skin appears ghostly pale.

That…might be the reason you gaze at him like you’re worried sick. As if you’ve seen a haunting, silverette ghost. Peter looks like he’ll pass out sometime within the next five minutes. Realistically, he should probably seek medical attention immediately. But he fakes his aloof casualness anyway.

“Heyyyyy, what’s the haps? Where’re you headed in such a rush, Screwball?” Peter asks, somewhat condescending.

“Screwball?” You narrow your eyes, puzzled, “Oh, y’know, my room probably? I might take a nap. Why?” You laugh despite your confusion, crossing your arms. Fixing Peter with a look that only suggests one thing: suspicion.

Fair enough.

He nods, rapidly tapping his fingers on the railing.

“Cool. Coooooool. I can dig it. Nothin’ wrong with that. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna spend a summer afternoon like this lazin’ around in bed, amiright?”

Good. Nice and easy. Peter should probably stop there, and speak no further. But his hazy, addled mind works on autopilot. The words race past his lips faster than he can keep up.

“It’s hot as hell today too. So, you could totally sprawl out butt ass naked and-”

Too late.

“...Yeah?” Based on your expression alone, Peter knows he’s made a total ass of himself. By some miracle, you don’t deck him with an icy fist of freezing fury. Not that you seemed the violent type to begin with.

“Wait, no-” He abruptly pauses to try and make sense of his thoughts. A stifling heat in the air swarms his head, drowning Peter in hot molasses, “Oh. Gah! What the hell am I even saying? Sorry, that was-uh…that was totally weird, right? Uh, lemme start over-uhm-”

Peter clears his throat, masking his mortification with his speedster charm. Super popular with the ladies. Tested on the battlefield of life and approved. A five star rating. No need to question why he still hasn’t managed to get laid, like ever.

“Sooooooooo…anyway. Y’wanna hang out?” He asks, cheesing a dorky grin.

“You never ask me to hang out with you. But today, of all days…that’s when you do? Everything’s closed, Peter. Y’know, because of the heat advisory? I mean, clearly…you look like you know.” You gesture to Peter himself.

A sweaty sheen coats his skin. He really should’ve taken a cold shower in the communal washrooms. At least before confronting you like this. Man, he really screwed this up. If this interaction falls flat, Peter’s just gonna bail. Maybe he’ll try and stuff himself in that mini fridge of Hank’s. He’d be way better off there. Until Beastie finds him, anyway.

“Uh, yeah? Pffft …no duh. I knew that. But, so what? Just ‘cuz there’s some lame stuff happening outside. That doesn’t mean we can’t do somethin’ totally cool inside. Know what I mean?” Simple and subtle.

“Hm…” You think on his offer for a moment. But it feels like he's aged another thirty years by the time you reply, “At least let me change first, okay? You probably should too! I know you gotta be burnin’ up in that jumpsuit, sweetheart!”

A dopey smile plays on Peter’s lips, pressing into his dimples.

So…sweetheart, eh? That’s a new one.

Politely, you push past Peter to make your way up the remaining stairs. Without any forethought or plan of action, he cuts you off again. He slides across the floor into your visual radius, worn sneakers squeaking along polished wood. Wait…why’s he losing his balance?? Peter doesn’t usually lose his balance. Shit.

Ah. he’s lightheaded now. Great.

You’re close enough that Peter can feel the tempting coldness radiating off your body. Oh, man. If only you’d envelop him in your frosty arms completely. You could even lay on top of him like a blanket of snow post avalanche. Anything. Please. Peter is so beyond desperate to beat the heat, he’d let you pelt him with a flurry of snowballs. At least then, he wouldn’t feel a spark away from igniting into flames.

Staring at him with an impatient look, you tilt your head and furrow your brows. Awkwardly, Peter shifts on his feet. Thick humidity overflows his lungs, close to bursting with the force of an atomic bomb. Breathing is near impossible at this point. Peter may as well bite the silver bullet, before he finally kicks the bucket.

Godspeed, or however the saying goes.

“Hi…sorry. Okay-uh…hear me out, please?” He begs. Peter brings his hands together in front of him like he’s praying at the altar, “This is gonna sound weird. Like, next-level weird. Yer probably gonna think I’m a huge creep. And I’m not tryna freak you out ‘er anything. ‘kay? Like, I totally get it if yer not down for this. ‘Cuz, y’know, we’re not really all that close. Plus, you probably have other stuff you’d rather be doin’ than helpin’ out some loser like me, but-” Peter rapidly stammers over his words.

Way to go, ponyboy. Graceful as ever.

Holding out a small hand to politely silence Peter, you utter his name in the sweetest tone he’s ever heard. Hushed, soft, and so gentle. Your voice is the equivalent of candy to his eardrums. He kinda really digs the way you sound when you talk. So courteous and nice all the time.

Be still, his palpitating heart. Seriously. Calm down. Or he’s literally gonna die.

“Peter?”

“Uhyeahwhat?” He stammers again.

“Are you…okay? You’re sweating like crazy. You look like you’re gonna pass out, dude.”

Peter throws you an ‘ok’ sign with a hand, his grin sluggish.

“Peachy keen, baby.”

He swears with every fiber of his sweltering soul that calling you ‘baby’ made you blush. But, y’know, since he’s a little bit doubtful, he might have to test that theory again. Just to be a hundred percent sure. Break out the ol’ chalkboard and sketch some x’s and o’s like a scientific diagram. Top of the line research. He’s the leading psychoanalyst in speedster charisma. 

“You sure about that?” You ask, arching a brow, holding an easygoing smile.

Taking a few steps closer, you bless Peter with your emanating chill. He doesn’t at all expect you to raise your hand. Peter swallows a thick, blistering lump in his throat. Frozen in place, he watches in slow motion as you bring the tips of your frosty fingers to his chest. Brisk, winter cold spreads in fractals of frost over his jumpsuit.

Freezing heaven on scorching earth. It’s sorta…poetic, in a way. Peter blinks rapidly, caught in a mind-altering daze for a beat or two. Your touch really is like a miracle cure, alleviating that stifling thickness suffocating his lungs.

“W-Wow. Okay.” He chokes awkwardly, cheeks flushing. His skin tingles under his jumpsuit, “Wow. That’s cool. Literally cool.”

“Peter?”

“Mmmmmmhmmm?” He hums, slouching his shoulders. Peter shamelessly relaxes under your wintry touch.

“You’re suffering in this heat, aren’t you? You need me to help you out?”

Stupidly, like a colossal, doofus dumbass, he shakes his head. You’re offering the exact thing Peter came to you for. A golden opportunity. He’s really hit the jackpot now. All he has to do is face the music, and admit it. Just be honest. Say it, doofus!

“Huh? Naaahhhh! Pffft …why would-...hey, I told ya! I’m juuuust peachy, Screwball! Don’t gotta worry about me!”

Hanging in the air by a delicate string, is a tension Peter’s too stunned to identify. Taking another step closer, the swell of your breasts meets his chest. The hand you’ve placed over his speedy heart trails tantalizingly slow, up to Peter’s flushed cheek. His dark eyes flutter closed, and he almost falls face first into your touch.

“I can take care of you, y'know? I really don’t mind, honey. It wouldn’t be an issue.” Your soft voice exudes genuine compassion. The sweet, gentle attention burns his skin to a boiling point, his veins melting underneath.

That unidentifiable tension in the air permeates, thicker than summertime heat. Despite the relieving cold you’ve given him to bask in; Peter finds it even more difficult to breathe. It confuses him, the way you act so nice and considerate. And now? He’s melting entirely.

Literally. No dramatizations. Peter can feel his damp skin drooping slowly off his bones.

He’s already close enough to death as is. What’s with the tenderness and affection, huh? Were you going out of your way to make sure he dies faster? Have some humanity, for Geddy’s sake. Jeez.

“I-uh…I…” Peter stutters, at a loss for words, “I wouldn’t wanna put you out like that, but…uh…”

“Alright. Whatever you say.” You steadily pull your hand from Peter’s face, “Offer’s still on the table, though!”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Why are you pulling away? No, no, no! You can’t pull away! Not yet! Come on!

All at once, the soothing cold you’ve gifted Peter disappears. No thanks to the steaming fever brought upon by his overheated, speedster body. He nearly whines at the loss, pulling his lip between his teeth to stifle any embarrassing noises.

It takes Peter only a millisecond to give in. With a slower reaction time than usual – not really all that slow, from an outside perspective – he darts his hand out in a flash. Peter lightly grabs your wrist, stopping you from retracting your hand any further.

“Wait-” Peter groans, acting hasty. Frustrated with his own awkwardness, he rolls his eyes, “...I’m…I’m literally dyin’ here, okay? Like, no joke. I think my heart might actually explode. And I…kinda can’t breathe right now? So, uhm…can you just, like, touch me? Just a little bit? But not-” He panics suddenly, eyes widening, “N-Not like-...not in a weird way, I swear!”

He almost tacks on a suggestive ‘unless you really want to,’ but decides against it. Better not, lest he dig himself into a deeper hole. So far under the Earth’s surface, he’ll come out the other side. Not a bad idea, actually. Maybe it’s cooler over there.

“And I’ll totally make it up to you. I promise. Pinky swear. Cross my heart, hope I don’t die of heat stroke.” He insists.

You giggle again, cute as can be. It’s not the least bit condescending either, thankfully. Peter feels the weight of a billion megatons finally lift off his shoulders. With a nod, you take his hand in yours. A surprisingly intimate gesture, since the two of you have never done anything quite like this before. Hell, you’ve never spent time with each other one-on-one outside of the X-Men.

“C’mon, you silly goose.” You lightheartedly joke.

Your affection catches Peter off guard. Not that he’s got a problem with it. No siree. In fact, his heart might’ve skipped a few beats. A lazy smile plays at his lips, as you guide Peter down the hall to your room in your usual, slow stride.

Oh, sweet, frosty sanctuary calls.

As soon as Peter steps inside, you quickly close the door behind you. Feeling somewhat out of place in the unfamiliarity of your space, Peter distracts himself with the posters on your walls. He casts quick glances over the silly knick-knacks occupying your desk and dressers. Turns out, your room has a lot of personality. Neat.

He overhears a faint click suddenly. Whipping around to find you locking the door, Peter narrows his eyes in thought.

Huh.

Maybe he’s overthinking. Probably. But doesn’t locking the door like that suggest some…implications? Then again, Peter could be looking at this in all the wrong ways. Like, okay, if he were being realistic? More than likely, you didn’t wanna risk someone walking in. Not while you got handsy with one of your teammates in your room. Totally reasonable, he thinks.

But then-

Leaning your back against the door, you steadily unzip your glittering suit. Pulling the tiny, snowflake zipper down just enough to expose the swell of – Oh, hellllloooooooooo snowy cleavage. Where in the world have you been all his life? Peter has to refrain from whistling.

Okay. You totally did that on purpose, didn’t you? That was completely intentional. And Peter’s definitely not reading too far into things. He’s most unequivocally not letting his attraction to you affect his perception of a simple gesture. Not at all.

He can’t control his lingering gaze. Peter’s droopy eyes follow the slow movement of your hand, his mouth falling agape in a heat-exhausted stupor. Somewhere around him, he can barely make out your voice. But it’s muffled. All noise. Akin to a teacher from a Peanuts cartoon. Bwah Bwah Bwah Bwah.

Peter blinks.

“Huh? Sorry…you say somethin’?” It’s a failed attempt at a recovery. Peter taps his temple, “Gotta couple screws loose in here right now. Y’know, heat’s kinda gettin’ to me.”

You arch a brow, gazing at Peter like you see right through his bullshit. And yeah, he’s gonna go ahead and bet you probably do.

“Uh huh?” You scoff, giggling, “I asked if you’d be more comfortable on the bed, doofus.”

Moving closer to your bed, you bend over to adjust the fuckload of plushies resting on the blankets. Wow. Check that out. It’s like a Toys R Us threw up. A colorful mess of too many plushies for Peter to count. There’s barely any space to lie down, even if he wanted to.

Doing a quick double take, he glances between you, and your occupied bed. Peter sways where he stands, light headed from heat exhaustion. His brows shoot up in unexpected surprise. He whistles through a suggestive grin.

“Waiiiit, seriously?” Peter huffs a charming laugh, “Wow. Didn’t peg you for the direct type, Screwball. Y’wanna take me out to dinner and a movie first?”

“Dinner and a movie? I dunno, Peter. You’re askin’ for a lot.” You giggle again, acting nonchalant. You make your way around the room to a record player on a corner shelf. Neatly organized vinyls are aligned meticulously next to it. As you poke through your collection, you continue, “But sure. Fuck it, right? Why not! What movie?”

Distracted, as he usually is, Peter glances curiously around your room. Framed photos, postcards, and letters adorn your walls. Pinned carefully in place. Some of the photos, he suspects, are of your family. Others, more than likely friends. There’s even a few group photos of the X-Men together, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah?

Wait. Shit. You’re talking again. And Peter totally missed whatever you said.

“Huh?” Peter darts his head in your direction, watching with half lidded eyes as you set up the record player.

“Dude.” You roll your eyes affectionately, chuckling, “I said, is it hot in here, by the way? Just wondering. Since I can’t really tell.”

“Oh-” Peter exaggerates a sigh, “It’s really bad, babe. Like, sooo bad. I’m definitely gonna die if you don’t come over here and put those icebox hands on me, like, right now. Seriously.” He snickers, falling limply backwards into your bed.

Several plushies bounce with the impact of his weight. Some tumble onto the floor. Others topple onto Peter himself, but he leaves them be. He clutches a Beatles Blue Meanie plush to his chest. Breathing in quick, muggy breaths. Peter finds he’s even more consumed by the record-breaking heat. It’s a miracle he hasn’t disintegrated into a pile of ash by now.

“Howard the Duck.” Peter adds, staring at the ceiling in cloudy thought. He twirls the Blue Meanie in his hands.

“Pffft…what?” You laugh, “What are you even-”

“That’s the movie I wanna see. When you take me out? I wanna watch Howard the Duck. Oh! And I want popcorn too. Can’t watch a movie without popcorn. But it’s gotta be one of the big ones. With extra butter. And some candy-”

“ When I take you out. C’mon, really? Dude, didn’t critics totally pan that movie? I swear, I saw that in the paper just recently! It’s such an awful movie, Peter!”

“Uh, yeah? And so what? That’s kinda what makes it the ultimate date move, babe. Check it out – we could have the most awesome time makin’ fun of it.” Peter throws his head back further into your bed, peering at you from upside down, “Ooooh! Did you hear about the duck boobs scene? No joke. I kid you not. It’s got duck titties.”

A mellow tune slowly encompasses the quiet, muggy space of your room. Peter instantly recognizes it from the first few beats alone. Obscured by Clouds. Pink Floyd. …Cool. Peter’s pretty fond of that album himself. It’s not necessarily his favorite, per se. But it’s awesome enough. And it’s perfectly fitting for the mood of sweltering, summertime vibes too, he thinks.

“I didn’t until now.” You sarcastically scoff. Meandering towards Peter on your bed, “Spoilers, dude.”

He brings his head up to look at you. Spreading himself out, Peter knocks more of your poor plushies to the floor. Carelessly, he drops the Blue Meanie plush. Letting him fall to his ultimate demise. Au revoir, his blueness.

“Right. My bad.” He snickers. After a beat, Peter adds, “I love this album, by the way. It’s a nice vibe.”

In your eyes, he must look a lot like a beached starfish. Sprawled out and helpless. Drying to death in the heat of the summertime sun. Peter has his long legs hanging loosely off the edge of your bed. Moving in between those spread legs, you carefully climb onto the bed. Your knee stops just short of his crotch. As you inch yourself further over his body, Peter’s eyes widen. He blinks slowly, feeling hot beads of sweat roll down his temples.

“I know you do.” You grin down at him with a warm gaze. Peter’s lungs threaten to shrink into nothingness.

“Y-You do? Huh…no shit?” He appears put off, raising a silver brow, “How’d you know?”

You shrug, keeping your grin, “Guess I pay more attention to you than you think, hmm?” Perched over Peter with a palm to the sheets, you brush the silver bangs out of his eyes, “You got any limits?”

Peter blinks again, dumbfounded.

“Lim-...uh, what now?”

“Limits, y’know. Like, where am I free to touch? Anything you’re not comfortable with?”

“Oh. Uh…you can…touch me anywhere? It’s whatever yer comfortable with. Yer the one doin’ me a favor here.” he gazes at you with an unsure, sleepy eyed look. Nervously nibbling his lip, tasting the salt of his sweat, “Do you-uh…do you do this kinda thing a lot? Fer…other people?”

“Nope.” You blink down at him with that genuine, sweet smile again. Shrugging, “Just you.”

A subtle aura of addictive cold radiates from your body like a light. Peter can feel the faintest hint of it as you move in close. It teases him, promising sweet relief from the merciless summer heat. With his lips parted, Peter stares longingly into your eyes. His smile reveals a glimpse of his front teeth, as he snickers in disbelief.

“Uh huh. Alright. See, now I know fer sure yer just messin’ with me.” He bashfully laughs.

“Not yet I’m not.” You throw him a coy wink. Innocently, you ask, “Where do you want me?”

Which could so easily be misconstrued. Dammit.

Yeah. So, this one’s definitely on him. Peter’s inexperienced, sexually charged instincts immediately jump somewhere totally depraved. He’s a little ashamed of that fact. But hey, who’s the one climbing over him on their bed? Who’s the one fluttering those pretty lashes? Giving him those flirtatious smiles. Come on. Really? No wonder he’s lost his mind in the gutter.

Where do you want me?

Peter’s dark eyes immediately dart to his crotch for less than a second. But it happens so fast, he doesn’t doubt you missed it.

“Uhhhhh…I dunno. I didn’t…I didn’t really think about it? But, you cou- HHHHHHhnnnnnnnaaaaaaa-”

Frigid cold invades the exposed skin of Peter’s neck, as you press your hand gently there. A tiny thumb brushes his adam’s apple. Shivering, Peter bunches his shoulders. Tingling chills surge across his body.

“That’s good. That’s g-great. Awesome. Totally awesome. Thanks. Thank you.” He chokes in a rush, instantly melting into your icy touch.

Relaxing his body in your bed, Peter’s head falls loosely back. He breathes a long sigh of relief, his mouth falling open in a dopey smile. His eyes flutter closed as he laughs. Steadily then, your hand travels lower. Grazing frosty fingertips over his chest. Your fingers soon find the zipper of his jumpsuit, and you tug it down a little further.

That heavy tension from earlier grows a thousand times more distracting. For whatever reason, the mellow melody of Pink Floyd’s ‘When You’re In’ only seems to heighten said tension. Almost like it’s setting a certain kinda…steamy mood. 

Did Peter wake up in some cheesy, VHS porno? He’s definitely living the plot of one.

Peter flutters his eyes open, met with the sight of you on your knees over him. Your gaze appearing heavy, focused intently on your task. You nibble your lip in thought, looking fine as hell while doing so. Pressing your small palm to his chest, you finally grace him with glorious cold again. Right over the sweaty abomination for a shirt he wore under his jumpsuit. He’s almost embarrassed that you’re even touching it.

Using your glacial gift, you manifest more coolness. Allowing it to spread all over Peter’s body. He sucks in a harsh breath, freeing his lungs from their heated asphyxiation.

There it is. Sweet, icy sanctuary, at long last.

“Ohhhhhhhh …” Peter groans, “Nice.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his veins straining under his skin. Digging your nails firmly into his chest, you manifest snowy trails of glittering frost. The biting cold nips at his skin over the fabric of his shirt. Like walking chest first into an arctic glacier.

“Is this helping you much at all?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

“You have nooooooooo idea, babe.” Peter breathes a grateful sigh, “This is, like, so amazing. Thanks. I owe ya one.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”

Your freezing hand meets Peter’s sweaty forehead, pressing into his skin. Like you’re checking his temperature with the gentleness of a mother’s touch. Humming to the music, you card your cold fingers through his damp locks. Firmly massaging Peter’s scalp.

Peter lets his eyes drift shut again. His mouth falling open out of his control. Leaving his hair, you bring your attention back to his body. Watching him carefully for any sign to stop, you tug the wet, frost nipped fabric of his shirt. Bunching it up over his neck, exposing his broad chest.

He shoots an eye open, fixing you with a curious look. Feeling hot skin under your soft palms, you slide your hands over his raised pecs. Your fingers gliding in a touch as delicate as powdered snow. It sends sharp chills down his spine. A sensation he’s quickly finding extremely addictive and all too pleasant.

Instantaneously, something clicks in Peter’s brain.

A beat, and your touch goes from relieving, to downright pleasurable. Even sort of…arousing. Peter immediately reacts, arching his back in an abrupt jolt. He laughs his surprise through a broken moan, tossing his head back for the umpteenth time.

“O-Oh, fuck.” He chokes, loud enough to disturb whoever occupies the room next door.

Peter’s so righteously fucked now. Because he really shouldn’t be as turned on by this as he is. It’s just…he’s so boiling hot. Miserable as hell. And not only are you finally breaking him free of hellfire’s tyranny. But you’re also touching him sorta intimately. Peter’s really not immune to attention like this. Especially not from a stone fox he’s super attracted to.

His nipples harden under your frigid spell, perky against the tips of your fingers. Peter hisses, whimpering another moan without meaning to. Your only response is to giggle. Curiously, you tilt your head. Quickly taking notice of the way Peter’s noises have changed in pitch.

They’re more like moans of ecstasy now. Because, well, they sorta are. Whoops.

Lowering your hips, you suddenly move to rest on Peter’s lap. Just to give your knees some much needed rest. His hammering heart threatens to burst straight through his ribcage. Rising from the bed onto his elbows, Peter tries to protest.

“Wait! Wait, don’t sit- hoooohhhh.” A throaty groan slips off his tongue.

The full weight of your lower half drops onto his lap. Right over the stiff hard-on in his jumpsuit, doing little to hide itself. Your ass is so outrageously cold against his crotch and… oh, fuck. That’s so perfect. Peter groans again through a shuddering breath. Limply, he lowers himself onto his back. Hoping to conceal his shame, he brings his hands to his face.

Except, there’s no denying his obvious desire anymore.

“Auuuuugh.” Peter curses himself, “Shit. I am seriously so, so sorry-” Your name plays on his tongue in a desperate, apologetic tone, “I-I really…I dunno why I’m so-uh…I’m not usually-”

“Hey, don’t worry! It’s okay. Believe me, I don’t mind…”

Gosh. There you go again, doing that thing. The thing where you act so unexpectedly understanding in the face of an awkward situation. But even then, Peter can hear your smooth voice waver. Despite all you try to hide, he can tell. You’re just as nervous as he is, but ultimately better at masking it.

He doesn’t see it, but you gaze down at him rather suggestively. A fresh, newfound sense of lust lingers in your eyes. Raking your nails teasingly down his chest, you draw numbing streaks of snow, making him wince. The frost manifests seamlessly from your fingers, tickling Peter’s ever burning skin. It melts instantly, leaving beaded droplets.

“Does it really feel good when I touch you like this, pretty boy?” You tease, that waver in your voice barely leaking through again.

Wooooah. Okay. Okay. Hold up. Rewind. What?

Peter isn’t hearing you wrong this time. He couldn’t be. It’s impossible to misread the dirty tease in your tone. In the blink of an eye – rapid fire speed – the blood pooling in his cheeks vacates straight to his dick. Peter’s cock twitches, pulsating under his jumpsuit – under you – and shamefully unveiling just how horny he really is.

The high-speed boom boom boom of Peter’s heart skids to a deafening halt. His exhausted lungs finally collapse. Squeezing out his final remnants of life. If someone were to hook him up to an EKG, he surely would’ve flat-lined. Sayonara, suckers. This foolhardy speedster’s at the end of his road.

But…what’s this?! Peter’s still alive and breathing? Who could’ve predicted such a phenomenon??

He lowers his hands from his flushed face, peering over the tips of his fingers. His black coffee eyes blown exceptionally wide.

“Woah. Hold on now. What?” Peter snorts. He shakes himself free of total shock, frantically nodding, “Uh, yeah? It feels…really fuckin’ awesome, to tell you the truth.”

“Mhm?” You hum a sensual vibration, biting your lip, “Mind if I try something bold then?”

Peter arches a curious brow. You’re kind of a little minx, aren’t you?

“Literally? You can do whatever you want with me, babe. I’m all yours.” He heaves an exasperated laugh.

A smirk dawns your pretty lips, and you shimmy backwards over Peter’s lap. Until the bulging swell of his hardness lies before you, squirming under his jumpsuit. Teasing him, you drag your biting touch down to his crotch. Euphoric cold dances across his pelvis. You stop short of his hard-on, and Peter draws in a ragged breath.

“Awww…feelin’ a little stiff, sweetheart?” You coo in a sultry sound. Peter feels his blood pressure drop to a life-threatening degree, “Let me help you out.”

Testing the metaphorical, frozen waters; you bring your frigid palm over his bulge. You watch Peter for any sign to retract your hand, fixing him with an intense look. But to your surprise, his cock doesn’t soften under your frosty touch. Not like one would expect. Oh, no. The opposite happens, in fact.

“Mmmmhh…oh my god.” He moans, his front teeth clamping hard into his lip. Jolting in response to his own sensitivity, he rolls his hips into your small hand, “Please…”

You squeeze the thick length of him as well as you can over his jumpsuit, applying more pressure. Awkwardly stroking his dick with your wintry tipped fingers. The bleak touch you cast sends chills racing through Peter’s veins, and sharp pleasure rises in his groin.

“F-Fer the record, by the way, this is not how I expected this to go.” Peter shivers, breathlessly chuckling.

“Oh, no?” You mutter, climbing over Peter on your knees. Glacial breath ghosts his lips. You lean in close, giving his cock another firm squeeze, “Hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Fuuuuuuck no, baby. Not a chance.” Peter groans his reply, lifting his hips. Yearning for more of your gratifying chill. Another wintry wave of cold seizes through his groin, and Peter’s eyes roll back, “Holy shit. That’s it.”

Peter finds himself a little conflicted. His brown hues can’t decide if they wanna gaze into your own, or stare longingly at your lips. In the past, Peter thought about those same lips more often than he’d admit. But to be so up close and personal with them like this…

“I’m not even gonna lie to you, Screwball. I really wanna kiss you right now.” Peter admits defeat. Even in your polar proximity, humiliation burns his cheeks with the force of hellfire.

Knitting your brows, you narrow your eyes. And for a painfully long instant, Peter thinks he’s finally fucked up. As if confessing his desire to kiss you was somehow a step too far over the line.

Is there even a line left between the two of you anymore? Or did you both trip over it the moment you gave him ‘fuck me’ eyes?

You lean in a touch closer, quietly chuckling. Cold puffs of air fan over his lips, a needle-thin space away.

“You’re so silly, y’know that? Why do you keep callin’ me Screwball?” You ask, placing a tantalizing kiss to the corner of his lips. Like the touch of a delicate snowflake, “You make it sound like you think I’m crazy.”

“Well, okay, first of all, you gotta be some kinda crazy. ‘Specially if yer screwin’ around with me.” Peter jokes. He’s beyond winded under the teasing brush of your soft lips, “S-Second of all, it’s an ice cream thing. You ever-uhm…stop by an ice cream truck before?”

Why’s he even doing this? Making casual conversation like it’s a date at the diner. Peter half expects you to pull away. Since this is the least sexiest thing he could be doing. Amazingly, you remain where you are. Trailing kisses across Peter’s cheek, down to his ear. Leaving feather-light sparkles of frost in your wake. Still, they melt within seconds.

“Yeah. Of course I have. So?” You mumble.

He tenses as goosebumps descend down his neck. The tight grip you have on his dick doesn’t let up. Any words Peter planned on saying seem completely lost on him now.

“Uhhhh…Screwball’s the little…it’s got the-uh…gumballs at the bottom. It’s, like, a cone-”

Righteous work, casanova.

“Right. And I’m Screwball because…?”

Damn you, little minx! You know why. The answer’s totally obvious. There’s no way you’re that dense. Nah. You’re just so set on teasing Peter, tempting him to nervously ramble. Like you find his embarrassment…humorous or whatever. Pfffbbtt …

“You messin’ with me? It’s ‘cuz it’s ice cream, yeah? No duh. And ice is, like, yer thing, babe. I dunno. It made more sense in my head.” Peter laughs in spite of himself, “Listen…can I please kiss you? Before I make even more of an ass outta myself?”

In this position, Peter can’t kiss you. Even though it’s all he can think about. You’re too busy mouthing at his neck, grazing his skin with your teeth. Fondling his cock in freezing strokes, making him whine under his breath.

Up until this very moment, Peter’s hands remained mostly still. He’d dig his fingernails into your blankets, as the pleasure of freezer burn simmered in his pelvis. But he held himself back from ever really touching you. Since this little interaction wasn’t supposed to end up like this to begin with.

But now? Well…shit.

You knead at his junk like you’re making biscuits, flicking your icy tongue across the skin of his neck. Eliciting another husky whine from deep in his throat. Peter’s pretty sure, judging by your forwardness; you wouldn’t mind so much if he touched you just a little, right? Like, you totally wouldn’t protest if he brought his large hand to the back of your head, would you?

He threads his fingers through your soft hair, tugging your head back gently. Pulling you from his neck, just so he can meet your wanton eyes again. There’s a single second of hesitation, as both of Peter’s hands claim your cheeks. That second seems to stretch for what feels like an hour, while Peter memorizes the features of your face. His racing, speedster heart leaps at the sight.

He swiftly pulls you down for a kiss. It’s clumsy as all get out. Initially, anyway. But if there’s one thing he can actually pride himself on? At the very least, he’s had a lot of experience with canoodling. Kissing you comes as naturally to Peter as running does. His skillful lips and tongue guide yours effortlessly. Coercing you into a heated makeout session. Against his own, your lips are frosty cold. Like drinking crisp water straight from a chilled glass.

Or…it’s more like he’s lapping his tongue across some kind of…slushy ice cream. Like…a Screwball cone, maybe?

No?

Fuck it. Whatever. The only difference is, you don’t taste anything like cherry. You taste like you. And Peter would argue that’s almost better. Almost. Cherry’s pretty hard to beat. It’s a tough competition.

As you fall victim to his bitchin’ makeout skills, Peter indulges himself. He touches you the way he’s dreamed since forever and a day. His hands glide thick fingers down your chilly body. Feeling every glittering facet of your suit under his fingertips. Meeting the curves of your hips, he squeezes them firmly.

“Mmmmm…this is awesome.” Peter breathes, “This is really fuckin’ awesome.” He hums into your lips, stifling a moan by kissing you again. You stroke his clothed cock a little faster, and he chokes, “O-Oh…yer so awesome. Fuck.”

“You’re really awesome yourself. But I’ve always thought that about you.” You titter, nuzzling his nose so tenderly, “The others on the team? Yeah. They’re alright. But you? Peter, you’re the coolest.” You admit with a bashful smile. After locking him in one more, passionate smooch, you pull away, “Sexy too.”

“W-Wait, really? Are you bein’ serious right now?” Peter asks, stupefied. He furrows his brows. Another beat, and he forces himself to smirk proudly, “I-I mean…well, yeah. Pssshh …of course. Why wouldn’t you think that? I’m the bomb, baby.”

Peter keeps his hands on your hips, feeling your ravishing curves. Stroking them with his thumbs. They fit so perfectly in his grasp. And Goddamn, Peter doesn’t ever wanna let go. Mark his words. Right here, right now. He’ll glue his hands to you forever if he has to.

Lowering your ass over his crotch, you keep your erotic gaze focused on his. Your intense eye contact never seems to break for even a moment. Pressing into the exposed, damp skin of his chest, you brace your freezing hands over Peter’s pecs. A filthy moan teases your lips, as you roll your gorgeous hips forward and back. Grinding into his needy bulge.

Oh.

This is happening now. Fuck yeah.

Peter squirms in place, tightening his hold on your hips. His nails tear at the tiny sequins of your jumpsuit, digging into the sparkling material. It’s such a needlessly skin tight thing, for fuck’s sake. Criminally skin tight, even. How did Xavier ever greenlight that? Peter can see the tempting outline of your pussy in it, deliciously rolling into his clothed cock. His mouth waters at the sight. Lifting his hips off the bed, he meets your slow thrusts.

“Ohhhhh. Oh, what the fuck-” He moans an octave louder.

A strangled sound catches in his throat, and you’re quick to shush him the moment it frees itself.

“Pietro, honey, you gotta be quiet, okay?”

Hushed moans pour from your parted lips as you speak his given name. Peter’s completely bushwhacked at the mention of it. Since no one ever – excluding his mom, in her more frustrated moods – uses that name. A tickling flutter erupts with a burst in his belly. He almost creams himself at the sound of that name in your voice.

“Come on. Be good for me. You can be good for me. Can’t you, baby?” You plead. Moving your hips in a painfully slow, steady rhythm.

“Fuuuuuuuck. Babe, please-” Peter begs, “Faster? Faster, please. Yer killin’ me."

Your sharp nails sink into his bare chest, manifesting more glassy shards of frost. Winter cold seizes Peter’s body entirely, infecting him with frostbite’s kiss. Peter knits his brows tightly, his dark eyes mesmerized with your every movement. The freezing solace permeating from your pussy proves a little too overwhelming. As sharp, pinpricks of cold rush through his veins; it all morphs into carnal heat.

His muscles quickly tighten, every inch of him tensing in an instant.

“Wait wait wait! Fuck!” Peter whimpers in desperation, a flurry of moans erupting from his throat. His rock hard cock twitches, pulsating under you as he cums. Leaking thick streams of his seed into his boxers and jumpsuit, “F-Fuck! I’m sorry, baby! Ohhhhh god! I’m so sorry.”

As far as Peter knows, you have no clue he’s a virgin. Until now, he was content with that. He hadn’t planned on announcing it anytime soon. In hindsight, it’s pretty fucking embarrassing how easily he comes undone. All from a little dry humping, no less.

Yeah. You’re bound to figure it out sooner or later. Yikes.

Sticky, white pearls of his cum seep through his jumpsuit, staining the material. Your erotic motions slow to a stop, once you notice the streaks sticking to your clothed cunt. Tilting your head, you raise a brow. A delicate blush swarms your neck and ears, as you stare down at Peter with genuine surprise. He tilts his head back shamefully, sighing.

“D-Did you just-” You hesitate to continue. Wintry fingertips trace over his bare chest, “Damn, Quickie, that was fast.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Peter sighs again, bringing his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, “Dammit.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, feeling blistering warmth rapidly return. Taunting him with the promise of death by suffocation all over again. Before he finally succumbs to it, you crawl over him. Knees braced on either side of his body.

“I’m…god, I’m really fuckin’ sorry about that.” Peter awkwardly stammers, “I-I just…fuck! Yer just so-”

You shush him, chuckling, “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. That was so, sooooooo hot. Really hot, if I’m being honest.”

By virtue of his blessed genes, Peter takes very little time to recover. And hell, you make it an impossible feat not to chub up all over again. Your arctic tongue intertwines with his hotter one, as you meet him in another sloppy kiss. Cold hands grasp his cheeks, quickly sliding through his hair. Dragging your nails across Peter’s scalp, you kiss him with more urgency.

Peter sneaks his hands to your juicy ass, warm palms feeling at your plush booty cheeks. He gives one of them a light, playful smack. Drawing out a squeak from you, Peter giggles into your mouthy kisses. He’s distracted enough, he almost doesn’t notice you tugging the zipper of his jumpsuit.

“C’mon, get this thing off already.” You pull the zipper down even further, murmuring through frantic kisses, “Before you die of heat stroke in my bed.”

With a hmph , Peter nods his head, “Hey, if it’s life ‘er death? Guess I’ve got no choice then, huh?” He replies, fabricating his confidence, “Just a sec.”

Peter sits up fully on your bed, his feet absentmindedly kicking a few plushies on the floor. You slide off the bed entirely. Stepping back to give Peter the space he needs. From your perspective, the removal of his sweaty jumpsuit takes less than a second. But from Peter’s own POV, it’s a thousand years before he finally pulls himself out of his clothes. Clumsily, he peels his sticky limbs free.

“Fuckin’ shit-” He curses, struggling to free one of his ankles once he’s done.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but a faint air of raw cold filters through the space of your room. With his body free of stifling clothing; Peter can finally embrace that coolness in full. It bites sharply at his skin, making him shudder. Peter inhales a slow, deep breath just to feel it all

“Oh, wow! It feels damn good in here, Screwball! Like, woahhh! I feel like I’ve been sweatin’ my balls off this whole time until now.” He says.

“That’s the most charming thing you’ve said all day.” You sarcastically chime. And he snorts.

Peter promptly rids himself of his sweat soaked shirt, aching to feel more frigid air on his skin. He tosses the drenched fabric to the floor. Left in his cum stained boxers, Peter shifts uncomfortably on your bed. Self consciously, he gazes at you with a doe eyed look. He twiddles his thumbs in his lap.

“Sooooooo…uh…a-are you gonna take off yer-uhm…” Peter gives you a once over, gesturing to your jumpsuit.

He lets his long, sturdy legs hang off the side of your bed. Watching as you take slow steps backwards, pulling that tiny, snowflake zipper of yours. Dragging it all the way down. A mischievous spark twinkles in your eye, and Peter’s heart skips a thousand beats. Even though you’re trying your best to be sexy, you’re still just as clumsy as he was.

Which somehow, ultimately makes you even sexier to him.

You peel your limbs out of your glittering jumpsuit. Revealing the underwear beneath, fitting your body in all the right ways. Peter’s adam’s apple bobs, his eyes flitting up and down your curvaceous form. Drinking in the image of you almost completely bare.

“Holy shit.” Peter mumbles, leaning back and bracing his hands on your bed.

You’re giggling again. Blessing his ears with a precious sound he’s grown to adore over the last…however long it’s been since you invited him in. Peter can’t really remember. It’s impossible to hold any sense of rational thought while watching you like this. Especially when you pull off everything except your little, lace panties. Freeing your-

Whoaaaaaaa, mama.

There they are. In all their beautiful, freezing glory. Your icy cold knockers bounce freely. And with a flawlessly executed jiggle, too. If Peter had a sign, he'd rate them a perfect ten.

The skin of your breasts is heavenly soft, dusted in a faint motif of frosty snowflakes. Nipples perky.

Peter's wondered about those suckers for ages. And you most definitely don't disappoint. He whistles, his eyes flying open. Black pupils dilating like drops of heavy ink. No matter how hard he tries, he can't tear his gaze away from those bouncy beauties.

"Damn, Screwball…" Peter grins, shaking his head, "Yer a smokeshow, babe."

Subconsciously, he palms his hardening dick over his boxer briefs. Momentarily grimacing at the texture of drying cum in the fabric. His focused gaze lingers a little too long on your totally righteous titties. You're talking again. Speaking words in that sweet voice, though they go unheard.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah!

You must have given up on trying. He barely sees you coming, as you collide your lips with his again. Shocking him out of his boob-induced daze. The moment you're in close enough range, he reaches out to touch you. Burning hot palms fondle your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples. Furrowing your brows, you squeal into his mouth.

"Your hands-" You whine, "Your hands are so hot. It's like you're on fire." And Peter chuckles a heated breath in response.

"See? And that's why we're here. Gotta beat the heat somehow, eh?" He says, his hands playing with your frosty titties. Silken and cold on his skin.

Sinking to the floor, you lower yourself onto your knees. Peter knows without an ounce of doubt; your poor knees have to be aching like hell right about now. Yet, you persist. He scoots a little further at the edge of your bed, allowing you to ease yourself between his spread legs. With one less layer of clothing in the way of your touch, the coolness feels even more crisp and harsh over his cock.

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles.

Peter stares down at you in awe, curling his fingers into the sheets. Biting your lip with an impish grin, you ease his boxers off completely. As your glimmering eyes meet the full length of his cock, you're instantly enamored. His dick, colored a scarlet hue and pulsing with thick veins, bounces over a silver bush of hair.

You haven't even touched him directly yet. But Peter can already feel that freezing aura easing in close. Swiping your tongue across your plush lips, you gaze at Peter's dick like your hunger hasn't been satiated in weeks.

No words are spoken between you both. As one of your hands treads carefully. Barely touching his thickness with your fingers. You stroke him in slow, but firm motions at first. Peter arches his back in shock, the cold like electricity rushing through his veins. Arctic temperatures rapidly pump his body full of adrenaline.

Maybe that’s why he’s so into this. Being a speedster, he’s always been addicted to the rush of exhilaration.

“Ohhh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Peter moans.

Your strokes slide up to the swollen, purple-ish head of his cock. Squeezing tightly. But the tip is too outrageously sensitive. A simple, icy cold tug of it gets Peter practically seizing. White light flashes through his vision. And just like that, he’s going totally mental. He jumps with an abrupt jerk, his body vibrating.

Peter whimpers in quick gasps, “Ah! N-Not the tip, baby! Not the tip!”

You make a quick retreat, sliding your hand down to the thick base of his length. Pumping his vascular cock in a frosty fist. He can feel his blood vessels constricting with every motion. Cold creeps under his skin, bringing with it a burning sensation. Peter’s groin tightens, and his moans turn to pleading whimpers.

With a cheshire grin, you flutter your lashes over a naughty gaze. Leaning forward, you tease the smooth length of his cock with your lips. Kitten licking a vein with the tip of your tongue.

“W-Wait! Hold on, Screwball! Fuck-” One of Peter’s hands finds your head, clutching strands of your hair between his fingers, “It’s too much, baby! I can’t-”

A long, chilling swipe of your tongue brings momentary crystals of ice. Igniting the burn along his skin. Peter never thought himself a masochist. But this freaky, frosty jerk-off session has somehow completely rewired his brain chemistry. Pain never felt so good.

In all your wickedness, little minx, you refuse to heed Peter’s warning. Your mouth engulfs the scorching heat of his cock. Surrounding him in a crisp, cold shroud. Bringing upon him a vengeance of the bleakest kind. Like a frostbitten hug, sending shockwaves of pleasure fluttering through his bones. Peter’s breathing quickens.

“Ah! FUCK! Gonna fuckin-...I’m fuckin’ cumming, baby! Sorry, sorry, sorr-” He falters over broken whines.

Acting on impulse like the total spaz he is, Peter panics. Tugging your head from his cock so he doesn’t bust a load in your mouth. He lags a few seconds behind. Late again, as per usual.

Peter accidentally showers your precious lips in his cum. Painting your face in hot, messy strands of it. He writhes in place, sluggishly rocking his hips forward. The spurting tip of his dick kisses your lips, the length bouncing with every eruption of thick, sticky heat.

For a second time in a row, he’s blown his load prematurely. Impressive, in a really lame way. But, hey, even if Peter feels a little bad for glossing you in his cum. He’s gotta admit, you look drop dead gorgeous like this.

Peter quickly snaps out of his post-nut daze, his eyes dancing across your decorated face.

Ah. Actually, now that he’s thinking somewhat clearly again…it’s a little gross. He fumbles over an onslaught of apologies. Reaching to the floor for his discarded shirt without thinking, he wipes your face clean of his nut.

Wait. Fuck. Why’d he use his shirt? Shit. Get it together, Quickie!

As always, you’re just as chill about this as you have been everything else, “That wasn’t so bad. But thanks. Sorry about your shirt, though.” You giggle. But all Peter does is shamefully laugh in response.

You’re perceptive enough to catch onto his sudden hesitance. He tenses, avoiding your pretty eyes. Bouncing a nervous leg at the speed of a rabbit’s kicks. Twice now, you’ve seen him finish way too early. And though he knows in his heart you wouldn’t judge him for his lack of experience; a small part of him fears the worst.

He really likes you, actually. It’d hurt like hell if you thought less of him over something so trivial.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” You ask. Playful, but still concerned.

Peter’s heart aches in the presence of your gentle nature. Swallowing his pride, he opts to confess. And if you think him pathetic for being a thirty year old virgin? Fuck it. He’s betting Hank’s mini fridge is still vacant.

You’re resting on your knees in between his legs, tracing feather-light, frosty patterns into his thigh. Peter’s skin swiftly erupts in goosebumps again, his body never accustomed to your arctic touch. Taking a deep breath, he drops his head forward.

“I…gotta be honest with ya about somethin’. I’ts-...” Peter cuts himself off with a sigh, burying his face in his hands, “I’m kind of…a virgin. Y’know, if you couldn’t already tell. I just…didn’t wanna say anything.”

“Pfffttt …” You puff in disbelief, like you’re assuming he’s messing with you. But Peter blinks, staring down into your eyes with a look that tells you he’s all business, “You’re serious? But, Peter, no offense? I’m really surprised! You always seemed like such a player. Like, you flirt with literally everyone.”

Peter stares at you in silence. He shakes his head, brows furrowed. A timid grin curling into his lips.

“I guess? I talk a big game, yeah. And I’ve made out with a lotta girls. Screwed around a few times. But…nah. I’ve never-uh…actually, really screwed. I dunno if the timing was never right or what, but…” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Despite fighting an internal war of crippling shame.

“Well, we’ll just have to remedy this then, won’t we?” Your hand rises to his chin, thumb tenderly stroking rough, silver stubble.

His eyes fly open, cheeks swarming a bright red. A beat, and Peter’s dick already twitches to life again at the prospect of your offer. However, despite his body’s insatiable desire, he waves his hands and shakes his head.

“N-No! No, babe! Listen, you don’t have to. I really wasn’t implyin’ anything when I said…uh…it’s just…I-I’ve never told anyone. That's all!”

“It’s fine! I said I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

He swallows, caught off guard by your choice of words. ‘Take care of you.’ His brows raise high, and the cartoonishly fast pounding of his heart returns. Fluttering in his chest, hiking up to sonic speed. Peter opens his mouth to protest, to remind you that you shouldn’t feel pressured into stealing his v-card.

But you’re already pushing yourself off the floor, climbing over Peter on your bed. With your icy hand to his chest, you guide him down onto his back. He gazes up at you with an uncertain, but lustful look in his dark eyes. In spite of the significantly cooler temperature of your room; Peter’s entire body breaks out in a humid sweat.

Okay. Calm down, man. Take a chill pill. Relax.

“You got any condoms?” You ask, blunt and up front.

So. This is really happening, huh? Yeah. Peter’s gonna lose his v-card to one of his teammates. No biggie. Screwing his fellow X-Man Screwball? Totally not a big deal.

Peter swallows dryly again, an awkward chuckle vibrating over his tongue.

“Not on me, no. I don’t really-uhhh…carry those around.” He makes a hasty move to sit up, “But I can run to the store really quick and grab some. Y’wanna snack ‘er a drink while I’m at it? I could really go fer somethin’ sweet like-”

Your frosty lips capture his in yet another, intimate kiss. For the sake of Peter’s inexperience, you take your time. Guiding Peter down onto his back once more. Working with tender consideration. When your tongue so lovingly swirls with his, he scowls. Tasting the lingering bitterness of his nut. He curls his lip.

“Euuuugh! Augh! Blegh! Is that really what I taste like? Eck! I’m so sorry, Screwball. I’ll try to spare ya next time. Eugh. That’s disgusting!” He rambles, overcompensating for his uneasy nerves again.

“Next time?” You raise your brows. Supple, wet lips smirking.

“Y-Yeah? Yeah…like… pfftt …if you want…” Peter shrugs, casual, blinking puppy dog eyes, “I dunno about you, but I’m havin’ a killer time fuckin’ around like this.” He adds, fingers toying with the hem of your panties.

Reaching for his cock, you take his length into your icy cold grip. Peter jolts again, cursing under his breath.

“I need to confess something too.” You say, bashful. Peter watches your facade of confidence diminish for a moment, “Would you still wanna do this if I told you I’m just as cold on the inside?”

“Woah…yeah. Listen, that is the opposite of a problem for me.” Peter reassures you, looking between your bodies, “Call me crazy? I’m really diggin’ the whole cold thing.”

He watches your fingers hook through the hem of your panties, sliding them down your smooth legs. It’s a bit awkward for you to get them off in this position. But eventually, you’re entirely exposed.

No more messing around. This is the real deal.

Wiggling your ass, you position your wintry cunt over his cock’s swollen head. Peter’s fingers tremble as they grab your ass for purchase. Holding you steady, he keeps his lidded gaze on your pussy. Entranced in the sight of your puffy lips lowering over his tip. Barely nudging it in, giving just a little tease of what’s to come. He shivers, muscles locking, shockwaves of glacial cold racing through his veins already.

“Ohhhhhhhh …wow…” He whines, teeth clamping his lip, “Please, ya gotta gimme more than that, baby.”

“Pietro, be patient.” You chastise him, fluttering your eyes closed.

Sighs and erotic moans of euphoria rise from the both of you in unison, just as his leaking tip dives through your cushiony walls. Peter shudders again, craning his neck back. Moaning a broken, strangled sound from deep in his chest. The tight, freezing sting of your cunt causes him to tense up. Peter digs his nails into the flesh of your ass, his lips parting for breath.

“Mmmmmfffuuck. You good? You okay?” You ask, little mewls bubbling in your throat.

Through frantic, wordless intakes of breath, Peter nods.

He’s never felt anything like this in all his thirty years of life. It’s a completely new sensation. The plushiest of pins and needles constricting tightly around his cock. Or the world’s softest pillow, pulled straight out of the freezer. Sex with you is the kind he could so easily become addicted to. If it was possible to stay connected this intimately forever, he’d do so in a heartbeat. No questions asked. Totally worth the searing pain of frostbite.

You take a few moments to adjust to the length and girth of him. It feels like centuries before you’re moving, but the wait is more than worth it. Your cunt weeps around his cock, swallowing him up completely in a frosty slickness. Peter chokes, his breath hitching. The pace you set is frustratingly slow, bouncing into his pelvis in steady slams of bush on silver bush.

“Fuck yeah. Just like that. More? C’mon gimme more, baby, please. Oh, please!” He whines, submissive and needy.

Sitting up a little straighter, you balance your cool hands on his chest. Peter’s skin is all raw and red, frostbitten from your previous teasing. It’s a little painful now, actually. Leaving a tingly burn. But the stinging pain registers as pleasure in Peter’s speedy brain.

Your pussy molds perfectly with the thick shape of him. Roughly shocking you with a surge of dull pain, Peter’s cock knocks straight into your squishy cervix. His expression contorts in overstimulation, his mouth falling open. He wets his lips with his tongue.

“That’s it. Fuckin’ ride me. Mmmmm yeah~” Peter moans, “Yer so fuckin’ cold. Shit-” His moans steadily trail off into whimpers.

“Should I stop? Is it too much?” You halt your movements for a second too long.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ stop.” He groans, animalistic and ragged, “Ohhhh~ Please don’t stop.”

As you thrust your beautiful body into his lap, Peter follows your lead. Driving his hips against your ass with each bounce of contact. Overshadowing that sultry melody of Pink Floyd with the lewd smacking of skin on skin. Your cunt hugs his cock in a grip tight enough to induce more freezer burn. But it’s such an alluring feeling, he bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

Peter’s brown-eyed gaze rakes down your body. Intoxicated with the way your titties bounce and your pussy sucks the ever-speeding soul out of him. He has to mentally-prep himself so he doesn’t cum too soon again. But the piercing cold compressing his dick sends thrilling pulses through his limbs. Erotic pleasure burns deep in his gut.

“Pietro!” You cry. Riding his dick and mewling soft kitten noises, you circle your little clit with your fingers, “Want me to cum on your cock, pretty boy? Wanna feel this tight, little pussy cum for you?” 

Ohhhhh. You can’t do that to him. Dirty, little minx. He’s never heard such filthy words like that come out of your mouth. And the way you sound, how you look touching yourself on his cock; It all triggers a carnal instinct in the recesses of his mind.

Peter lifts his hips in a display of super strength, abusing your cervix repeatedly with his cock. Pounding your pussy so fast and hard. With a force deep and rough enough to make you see stars. A filthy squelch of a sound echoes from inside you.

“Oh my god-” Peter’s face contorts in needy desperation, brows creasing, “Please? Wanna feel you cum, baby. Need you to cum on my dick so bad.”

Sitting up on his elbows with his mouth hanging lazily open, Peter brings his fingers to his drooling tongue. His eyes are half lidded and cloudy, almost rolling back into his skull. He reaches out, the wet pads of his fingers meeting your cute bud. He buzzes his digits in a scorching vibration, knowing how sensitive you are to his heat. Easily coaxing you towards release.

“HOH! FUCK-” Peter’s eyes flutter in shock, “ Ohmyfuckingod that’s really fuckin’ tight. ”

His body tenses hard as stone. Feeling you clench around him while he fucks you so deep he thinks he’s reached your stomach. Within a few, measly seconds of teasing vibrations on your clit; you’re cumming. Coating his cock in a wave of crisp slickness. You tremble uncontrollably, tilting your head back and crying like a siren of the arctic seas. Singing a mantra of the name Pietro.

Peter grips your hips hard with both hands, sinking his blunt nails into your skin. Animalistic instinct overflows his mind as soon as he’s reached his own peak. Ecstasy tumbles over Peter in an overwhelming crash, much like an avalanche. And just as he’s pumping you impossibly full of hot, thick ropes of cum; something happens.

His release burns inside you, pooling in a milky heat. A stark contrast to the freezing temperature constantly flowing through your body. Your nails scratch red lines into his chest, manifesting glass crystals of frost. They burn like hell, and Peter hisses. One, final slap of your ass against his lap, and –

A ripple of explosive, winter cold rushes from your body in a flash. The bombastic wave coats your entire room in powdery snow and sheets of ice. Turning the small space into a glorified freezer. It even hits the record player, slowing the final tune of Obscured by Clouds to a creeping stop. Piercing cold fires through Peter’s lungs, and he chokes on it.

…D…Did that really just happen??

Glancing around frantically, he pushes himself up on your bed.

A soft, tingling blanket of snow drapes his body. Peter sputters, quickly brushing as much of it off as he can. You’re still sitting over his lap, his softening dick tucked safely between your pussy’s plush walls. With every puff of warm air from his lungs, Peter can see his breath fanning like smoke through the air.

“Woooahhhhh, babe…” He nudges you on the shoulder to get your attention, his expression wide eyed and bewildered, “Are you seein’ this shit?”

Recovering from your numbing state of euphoria, you lazily scan your room. You gasp, though it sounds more like a really cute squeak; covering your mouth with a hand.

“Ah! What the hell did I do!? I’m sorry! Oh my god, Peter, I’m so sorry!” You say, dropping your face into Peter’s frost-bitten chest.

He hisses as you lean into his sensitive, scarred skin. And before you can spout off another flurry of sweet apologies – a noise catches the attention of you both. Outside, the two of you hear the unmistakable sound of children’s laughter. Joyful cries, followed by playful giggles and screams. You raise your head, meeting Peter’s doe eyes with a questioning look.

Narrowing his eyes, he pats your thigh. Signaling you to hop off his lap.

Clumsily, Peter zips around the room in a blur, searching for something to cover himself up with. But his clothes are all caked in snow. And not to mention a little something else. Peter has to resort to a blanket stuffed underneath all the others on your bed. Untouched by your surprise blizzard. He cloaks himself in the blanket, appearing at your door in a fwip.

Discreetly, he pulls the door open.

Or, at least, he makes an attempt. It’s completely frozen in place, sealed with ice around the lock and hinges.. Why is he even surprised at this point? Peter tugs the handle once or twice with barely any strength. And when that doesn’t work, he jerks it open with a harsh flex of his muscles. He pokes his fluffy, silverette head halfway out the door. Looking up and down the hallways.

Only to find…

Your orgasmic snowstorm reached places far beyond the confined space of your room. Looks like Christmas came early this year. The hallways of Xavier’s mansion are all drenched in frosty spreads of snow. It’s not nearly as much as what’s accumulated in your room. But it’s enough to stir up the students and teachers. Many of the kids run around excitedly. Bouncing, cheering, celebrating.

And who can blame them?

To those unseen forces of the universe out there: thanks for blessing us all with the power of Screwball's ecstasy.

Out of nowhere, the X-Men’s laser eyed leader makes his appearance. Scott comes skidding to a halt outside your door just at that moment. He balances himself with a hand to your door, a genial smile on his face. A fuzzy fust of red tickles the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

Across the hall, Logan leans casually against a wall. Puffing a cigar, wearing a thin undershirt that compliments his jacked form a little too well. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his fitted jeans.

For a moment, Scott doesn’t seem to register why Peter’s even in your room.

But in this life, one speedster can only be so lucky.

“Wh-...Peter? Hey-uh…where’s-” Scott mentions your name, and continues, “I wanted to give ‘em my thanks for doing this.” He gestures over his shoulder to the mess of snow covering the walls and floors, “Some of the kids were getting really sick from the weather. And I know Xavier's gonna be pissed, but-...” His voice slowly trails off.

Scott’s smile falls for a beat. But Peter finds it hard to read his emotions without seeing his eyes clearly. Those sunglasses must do him loads of favors on a daily basis. If he tries, he can gauge what’s going through Scott’s head based on the look of surprise that crosses his face. Followed by a sly, knowing grin.

Summers is an intelligent guy. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together.

Especially with the way Peter stands in your doorway. He’s draped in a blanket that clearly isn’t his, shoulders bare underneath. The surface of his skin burns cherry red in some places. His hair is a tousled, fuzzy mess, and his cheeks are flushed bright pink.

Peter awkwardly swallows, avoiding the vibrant gaze of Scott’s red-tinted sunglasses. He directs his attention over his shoulder instead, making accidental eye contact with Logan. Wolvie arches a thick, quizzical brow, his eyes glancing over Peter’s blanketed form.

He really hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about this. But it looks like the cat’s out of the bag.

“You kids better be using protection.” Scott jokes, patronizing.

Which is funny, coming from him. Peter’s got ten years on him at the least.

“Uhhhh, yeah. I’ll totally tell ‘em you said thanks. We cool? Bitchin’. Later, Summers.” Peter rushes through his words ultra fast, before slamming the door shut behind him.

That’ll be a rough one to explain later. But hopefully no one’ll be nosy enough to pry. Besides, Peter doesn’t wanna think about it right now. Since, y’know, he kinda just got laid for the first time. Which is really fucking awesome, now that he can stop and really digest that it happened. And with someone he’s been crushing on too.

Maybe he’s luckier than he thought.

Peter presses his back against your icy door, letting the thick blanket covering his body fall to the floor. Leaving him butt ass naked in your freezer of a room. He rakes his fingers through his hair, cheesing a goofy smile to himself.

“What’s goin’ on? Were you talkin’ to someone?” You ask, emerging from your bathroom and brushing snow off a towel.

“Oh- pfffttt …just Summers. Yeah. He-uh…wanted to tell you thanks. ‘Cuz you kinda went all blizzard on this whole place and now it’s, like-” Peter makes a wide gesture with his hands, mimicking the sound of an avalanche falling. Or, that’s what he tries to do, anyway. He’s never been the best at charades.

“HUH!? What are you-” You rush to your door. Those pretty titties of yours bounce with every step. And Peter ogles them shamelessly. Poking your head through the door, he overhears the sound of your gasp. Followed by the shyest little, “Heyyyyyy, Logan.”

Before you’re closing the door again, marching to your bathroom with your head cast down in shame. 

“Xavier’s gonna kill me, dude! I can’t believe this!” You whisper-shout.

Your bashfulness and frustration are so cute, Peter has to refrain from snickering. And as you reach the doorway, you stop yourself. He catches the motion of your eyes checking him out, before your gazes meet again. Peter smirks.

“Uhm…how was your first time, by the way?” You ask in a quiet, uncertain tone, “Was it…okay?”

Oh, you cannot even be serious right now.

Peter gives you a weird look. Staring at you like you’re some strange, newly discovered entity from a far off universe. Really, you must be, if you’re gonna question a good time like that.

“Okay? Okay?? ” Peter appears before you in less than a blink’s time.

He wraps his strong arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body. Grinning confidently, he darts down to kiss your frosty lips.

“Screwball, baby, that was a total rush. Are you crazy? It’s not every day I make somebody cum so hard they kickstart an early winter, y’know. Not bad fer my first time, if I do say so myself.” He waggles his brows.

I’m really glad I could help you out…” You mutter, smiling so sweet.

Your fingers trace the burns littering Peter’s chest with a feather-light touch. Even the faintest brush makes him wince in pain. But he’s not ashamed to admit it’s totally worth it. What’s a little freezer burn and frostbite between friends, huh?

Or, between…whatever the two of you are now.

“Oh, you did wayyyy more than help me out.” Peter winks, kissing you once more, “You rocked my world babe. Don’t sweat it, ‘kay? I had a great time.”

You saunter off to your bathroom then. And Peter reaches out to playfully smack your ass as you walk away. He admires your gorgeous figure in all its naked glory. His eyes following the jiggle of your booty cheeks.

“Yer still takin’ me on that date, right? Dinner and a movie?” He asks, startling you with his sudden appearance in the bathroom. Peter presses himself into your back, standing tall in comparison to your height.

“Can we hold off? Do you think you can wait until the city isn’t on fire?” You meet his dark eyes in the mirror over the sink, “And it can’t be Howard the Duck.”

“No. It’s most definitely gotta be Howard the Duck.” Peter brings his warm hands to your shoulders, thumbs gliding along your soft skin. He leans down to pepper your sex hair in kisses, “I won’t accept nothin’ else, got it?

“Mmmhm. Shouldn’t I be the judge of that, Peter? Since, like, you keep implying I’m the one paying.”

He scoffs, slowly gliding his large hands over the irresistible curves of your body. He gives a mischievous grin through the mirror, his look oozing speedster charm.

“Who said anything about paying?”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #txt #smut

[turtlesaus]

Twin Brother Donatello - TurtleDuck AU

(Most of the design choices were inspired form Pinterest, IDK who drew them cause literally noone cited their sources x-x) (Art updated!)

Back at it with Donatello!;

Donatello Hamato

Nicknames: Don,Dee, Tello Race/Species: Turtle Mutant/Yokai Age: XXX (Changes though time) Height: XXX (Same as age) Gender/Pronouns: He/Him/Them Job: Tech Guy/Coms Guy/Co Leader

---

Personality

Donnie grew up in a highly supportive family, with his twin andyounger siblings always there for him, and always understanding what he's going through. As a result, he's more open about how he's feeling, trusts his brothers much more commonly, and is confident in his place in the team.

Sometime he get overwhelmed with touch, sound, or sight, but his family always has his headphone and glasses at the ready, and know when to back off.

He was goven a lot more freedom to build with many things due to his twin getting him almost anything he wanted to use, even Uranium. His tech is a lot more high-power and complex, fully decking out his whole team.

He is a caffeine guy, be it coffee, tea, or energy drinks, but has a strict bedtime of 11:30 pm, set by his older brother.

---

Power(s)

As mentioned in my Leo post, Leo was the first to activate his Ninpo, however, Donnie was in fact the second. When Leo first learned of the powers, he and Donnie were the one's who learnt and tested the differnt reaches of the power.

His Ninpo is much the same as cannon, however because he has had much more time to tinker around with it and understand it, he has fully intagrated it in to his tech, and is able to create near anything outside of 'living' creatures.

He specializes in close-hand combat and long-range combat, but prefers somewhere in the middle. Proficient in the Bō staff and, of course, firearms, Donnie is known both as a badass Bō Specialist and a Supreme Gunman.

---

Backstory

After his twin stepped forwards into the leadership role, Donnnie stood next to him as his 'right hand man', becoming somewhat of a co-leader. Working late nights with his twin to finalize missions is not uncommon.

When the surface became an option, his tech quickly gained originality and specialization, becoming extremely modern, even futuristic. With Ninpo it only went furthur, and by now he probably has built almost everything technological in the lair.

With the new additions to the family Donnie quickly got their mesurements and build specialized tech, giving them armor and weapons as fast as humanly possible, as to protect them.

---

Family Dynamics

Donnie & Leo

Leo and Donnie are twins, and Donnie reluctanly accepts the fact. The two are the eldest, but are able to act like kids around each other. Donnie considers Leo is leader, and will accept no other, with undying loyalty in highly dangerous situations being his MO.

Donnie & Raph

With Raphael's anxiety, Don has learned to show his blueprint, albeit simplified, to him to help him clear his worries. When Raph gets overwhelmed Don will, without hesitation, lend him his headphones or sunglasses.

Donnie & Mikey

PB&J Duo, get together well. Mikey will bring Don ideas, Don builds them either with him or later when he has free time. Half of the cool tech ideas came from Mikey's notebook. Donnie loves to coddle and love on him.

Donnie & Casey

Brains and Brawn duo, but they both love bombs and chaos. Donnie builds him explosives, then Casey uses them. Besties for life.

Donnie & April

When April and Don first met, they instant linked and were almost never apart. The two of them are very loyal to the family, and both run both the family group chat and the older siblings group chat.

(Others to be added later)

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #riseofthetmnt #rottmnt #my au #my au stuff #donnatello hamato #disaster twins #rottmnt donnie #character art #au #ao3

[amagicdoctor]

Really quickly I want to return back to Doctor Strange and the Sorcerer Supremes to talk about one of the many many big moments of the series. And that was towards the end when it was revealed that a future version of Valeria Richards would become a antagonistic sorcerer like Doctor Doom.

I absolutely LIVE for– storylines where the next gen takes an unexpected alternative path– preferably one for evil. The Valeria we know is still a kid and has a lot of time to think about her future, and she has a lot of opportunities to pursue different paths based on all the awesome adults around here.

In this particular series though, what I love is that there’s just so much left unsaid in this storyline that you can’t think of all the stories left untold here. But I can imagine a few….. 😏

There’s a seriously cool potential future written here where Valeria wants to become not only a sorcerer, but the one above it all– an actual Supreme.

Just imagine, for a second, her world. Imagine her becoming burnt out with science. The world already has her father (one who is getting older btw) and Lunella (who is already a girl her age who wants to go down the path of good). So she sees that there’s already people in her same category of science/intelligence. She thinks: “the world doesn’t need two of everything, I want to be unique!” Her brother is already phenomenal, maybe by the time he’s in his 20s, and she in her early teens, Franklin is already being scouted by many superhero teams, or becoming a researcher/adventurer of his own right. And Franklin, in comparison to her, has always seen such love and support from his community because of his abilities. But Valeria was never unique in that way, she was never a mutant. Sure, she had intelligence, but so did a hell of a lot of people and they had more practice and recognition than she ever did. So, as I said before, here she is, early teens, burnt out, wanting to be different, wanting someone to want her, to need her like they do with the other members of her family. Now imagine her being this teen, old enough to be independent and choosing her own path and that path being Dr. Doom!!

Regardless of if you’d like to take my headcanons into account or not, Dr. Doom had a lot of influence in both Franklin and Valeria’s formative years. Valeria more so because Marvel has shown a lot of evidence that they become close to one another and form a very special father/daughter bond. Now, taking that into account, perhaps Valeria wanted to abandon becoming a famous researcher, perhaps she’s now interested more in the mystic arts. Yeah, maybe Dr. Strange could have been a choice of mentorship, but Valeria was more so drawn to Victor first and foremost because of that kind of parental bond they shared. If anyone would teach her to master magic, it would be Victor, no doubt about it.

So there she is, a teen, and with Victor, would grow into her late 30s/40s, working strictly and tirelessly under Victor’s demand. And you can imagine it being hell. Victor’s already hard on himself because half of him was always in competition with other people, now he puts that type of thinking into his daughter’s head too.

Now imagine Valeria being molded into the almost perfect sorcerer but it not being enough for the Vishatni’s standards because they already had their eye on another “golden child.” Imagine Valeria growing up in an environment where she’s always being compared to– always underperforming– always letting Victor down– never being good enough in the eyes of the father she betrayed her original family for.

Billy on the other hand, was always supported, always loved, had his original family to stand up for him, to advocate for him. Billy, on the other hand, had Teddy, Tommy, his mother Wanda, Dr. Strange and so many great people fighting for him in his corner. Billy– wasn’t molded, he was elevated. The Vishanti saw this, and wanted him to be their new champion. And he was, and he did. Dr. Strange retired quickly after and the tides of magic had changed on Earth. 

A growing resentment came between Victor and Valeria. Except Valeria was still working under the impression that she could still win. So like Baron Mordo and Dr. Strange’s relationship, Valeria and Billy became rivals– mostly one–sided on Billy’s part though. He would have wanted peaceful relations between him and Valeria, and not to repeat the sins of the past that their mentors had between themselves. But a storm had been brewing within Valeria ever since she was a youth, and that would not dissipate with just a few kind words.

I wouldn't say not having a title stopped her from being an amazing sorcerer, whether that was for evil or not. Valeria’s an engineer, a creative, she’s curious, always devoted herself to discovery, never stopped asking questions about anything. So she found the right line of work by dedicating the rest of her life to mastering magic. After all, there’s so many spells, so many worlds and cultures to visit. She hones this knowledge and adds it to her power, becoming as strong as she can be and then even more so. With her kind of drive and passion she’s definitely able to go far. 

Just!! AAAH. So many thoughts. Valeria moving away from being an average superhero like her parents or brother and just consuming herself in Doom’s need to make her become a Supreme. Such a juicy story waiting to be unfolded. I hope one day Marvel can return to this storyline and expand upon it.

#doctor strange #fantastic four #valeria richards #billy kaplan #wiccan #doctor strange and the sorcerer supremes #doctor doom #marvel comics #earth 616 #stephen's strange family #im also hitting her with the transgender beam btw #for being a wizard

[invaders-forever]

Toro's Powers/Inhuman Part 2

alright, last post (here) talked about the powers themselves and how they work with Toro as a character. So what about his relationships, and his place in the team/teams? (another long one) also, his backstory a little bit bc i just want to talk about toro. this isn't english class, i don't need structure lol (much heavier on headcanons)

Let's start with the obvious. Jim. Jim could probably give less of a fuck what toro "is", because he is Toro and he is Jim's son and that's enough. the new powers, i can see that creating some internal angst for jim at first bc toro having the same powers as him kinda reassured him of his own humanity and their similar powers were the first building block in their relationship. but once jim escapes the evil anxiety spiral and remembers Toro isn't going anywhere, he's incredibly supportive. (we see a glimpse of this in canon, where he supports Toro's choice in going to Atalian. the new powers still catch him off guard sometimes, but he's also secretly glad bc it means Toro isn't constantly comparing himself to Jim anymore, and it boosts Toro's self-confidence. (srsly, re-reading this stuff now that i'm not an angsty middle schooler, my boy needs several hugs and therapy. he makes blatantly suicidal comments both in the Torch and Invaders Now, not to mention several times in earlier comics where he makes self-deprecating comments comparing himself to Jim.)

Next up, Nora and Fred Raymond. Betcha didn't see that one coming! Obviously learning you're an entirely different species is going to re-contextualize some shit about your parents, but not necessarily in the way you'd expect. See, Toro's parents were both brilliant chemists (or otherwise chemistry adjacent scientists. the details of how the fuck horton cells work is sketchy at best). Toro never got to know them well, both because of a number of things they were keeping from him and how young he was when they died. Toro himself says he never knew much about his mother when she's brought up in The Torch, and a part of his motivation is specifically to find out more about his parents. Because his new powers are heavily reliant on chemistry, he'll probably be doing a lot of research in that area, which in a way brings him a little closer to his parents.

Iron Cross (the Clare Grueller incarnation) is a character Toro literally would not have met without being an inhuman. Sadly we don't get to see much of them interacting besides mutually telling inhuman eugenics guy to fuck off and/or fight them (a great basis for a friendship if you ask me) Here we enter head canon territory. I personally think it would be really cool if Toro and Clare continued to have a relationship, bonding over inhuman stuff/invaders bagage/generally wanting to make the world a better place without ending up in the news. Maybe Toro helps Clare cope with the implications of becoming one with her suit (he's got a lot of experience with cyborgs androids and the like) and maybe she builds him a computer to integrate into his suit that helps him identify unfamiliar chemicals on the fly, or that can show him how to make specific chemicals (like the human-atlantean switch stuff).

Namor. Oh boy. Um, Namor is complicated. As a mutant he's kind of expected to have some thoughts on the inhuman business, and while it seems like he does in the invaders part of the hydra supreme mess, this isn't necessarily the case. (I'm totally writing a fic on this scene later, but he's faking it to try to get toro to leave/distance himself from toro so he can act like he doesn't care) meanwhile, when it's first revealed Namor's actually pretty chill abt it. So may or may not be a factor, more likely to be a problem if Toro's working with/for/ int the interest of other Inhumans, or trying to mediate between Namor and Blackbolt or something.

Anyway, Namor knows what it's like to be something different than you thought, and even something that doesn't really exist outside of you (toro is inhuman, but he's also a hortanesc cyberg a-la-spitfire, and maybe still a mutant- i'll get back to that later) I think much like Jim Namor is very caught off guard by the new powers. Underneath everything, I think he's still tempted to see toro as a little kid, a painfully vulnerable surface dweller who took a bullet to the chest in berlin (bucky's whole 'that could never be you in there so you don't understand' speech really hit a nerve i think) Oh, and Namor also WATCHED TORO DIE after toro PURPOSEFULLY PUT HIMSELF IN DANGER TO SAVE NAMOR. so yeah, no matter how powerful toro gets, no matter how smartly he uses his power, i think namor has a really hard time seeing toro as anything other than vulnerable. Which brings us to the real hard pill to swallow-

Toro can kick Namor's ass now. At least, if he has the drop. Toro can dehydrate him. Toro can manifest vibranium or other super strong metals that can actually leave a mark on Namor. This is a factor with all the invaders, in that toro has all sorts of new tools at his disposal that can make them miserable, but Namor's the one he's (historically) most likely to come to blows with.

And one final point with Namor (godsdamn, you'd think this post was about him) as i mentioned he sees Toro as vulnerable, perhaps more so than even Jim. And this is important. This is good. Toro needs people looking out for and protecting him, even if he's a lot more powerful now.

Alright moving right along hey look it's Bucky. So, unsurprisingly, powers were never that big in bucky and toro's relationship. And power escalation hit them both, only in different ways, so the power imbalance really feels like it's in Bucky's favour if anyone's at this point. The only real effect I can see this having is if Toro gets sucked into some inhuman/Kree/space thingy that involves Bucky as the Man on the Wall (is that even a thing anymore? I feel like I haven't heard about it in a while but i haven't really kept up with Captain America comics lately) Anyways it could be interesting to see these too in that context. See them have a moral debate. How do they handle conflicting duty. How much chaos can they get into on an enemy starship? the possibilities are very fun

Steve. okay, i could write a whole post about Steve and Toro's relationship and how they're foils/reflections of each other. But that's not what we're here for. There are two major points that define Toro and Steve in this context (and tbh most of their on screen interaction give me more marvel pls) 1. Toro's in humanification and 2. Hydra Cap. Starting off with the safer option, Steve was the first person Toro interacted with as an inhuman. Steve was there when Toro first came out of the cocoon, he's the one who explained everything to Toro and probably the one who got to here unadulterated fears/emotions about it. and given toro's history of being used as a lab rat/weapon/both, i'm betting some things came out. maybe some things other people don't know, which puts Steve very suddenly in a position to become Toro's confident. Someone he can trust and lean on with the stuff he'll never mention around the others. Which makes point 2 hurt even harder.

Even though hydra steve and real steve are different people, even though the steve we have now has tried very hard to make up for his evil clone's actions (oversimplification but whatever). It was still steve's face, and steve's voice, and the damage was still done. Toro, who had confided his deepest darkest fears in Steve, got to hear someone who was for all intents and purposes Steve say publicly that inhumans were so dangerous that they absolutely had to be locked away, with no nuance, no consideration. OUCH.

Toro's also in a tricky spot here, bc thanks to our dear friends Mad Thinker and nebulus soviet scientists (probably dept X) Toro knows first hand what it's like to be forced by forces out of your control to be something or someone else. He knows what it's like to come back from that and face the consequences for actions that both were and weren't his. He feels for Steve, but that doesn't mean he can just let it go.

As far as Steve goes, i think it's just really, really awkward now. He's very clearly still trying to heal the damage as recently as Invaders (2019). He's painfully aware that Toro is an inhuman and was thus very personally wronged by Hydra Steve, even if he isn't aware how far down that broken trust goes. He's spent years mending bridges with friend foe and stranger a like. But toro never mentions it, it's just floating there between them.

Toro was one of the first "mutant" super heroes. I know there are plenty of theories out there about what extent he expired/was related to magneto, prof X, and all the mutant stuff going down in the 60s. Him actually being an inhuman is definitely going to shake things up there, and it complicates the whole Inhumans v. Mutants angle. Could be very interesting both on general and personal levels.

#toro raymond #thomas raymond #invaders #insomnia invaders thoughts #invaders 2019 #invaders 1975 #invaders now #the torch miniseries #jim hammond #namor the sub mariner #bucky barnes #steve rogers #nora and fred raymond #Clare Grueller/Iron Cross 2

[formerheroeswhoquittoolate]

okay but I feel like shang-chi would not have passed the progenitor's judgement. right? he's taken over the five weapons society from his father and he's trying to make it better and he's just not succeeding.

takeshi, his brother, was imprisoned for stealing a cosmic cube. his fault? absolutely. but shang-chi was more loyal to his ideals of justice and making a Good Society than his brother's freedom. again, fine. but he promised takeshi that he wanted to be nothing like his father. and then he put his ideals, noble as they were, above his family just like his father did.

shi hua, his twin sister. his twin he failed to protect. he values his strength so highly and he didn't ever use it to protect her from their father. not even after he knew what was really going on, not even after he returned as the leader of the society. he ran away and he left her.

zhilan, his mutant sister, hunted by their father. shang-chi swore to her, he swore that he was going to change the society, that they would never go back to their father's ways. and now there are ten rings on his arms, the same ten rings that corrupted their father into the man that hurt him and tried to kill her. and she can't help but wonder when that idealism becomes zealotry.

and then there's esme. little esme, who is only thirteen, who has never gotten to be a child. who he treats as if she is as much of a soldier as her siblings. she is. she is not. she is thirteen years old and she's been trained to be a deadly warrior her whole life. she should be able to be so much more. he has a responsibility to this youngest of his sisters. here is his chance to undo everything his father ever stood for, to give this child the chance to do normal child things. to be treated like a thirteen-year-old girl instead of a deadly weapon. and he doesn't. he treats her as just as much of a warrior as the other adults. he sends her off to run the house of the deadly dagger on her own. he expects the same things of her as their father.

and lin lie (don't even get me started on lin lie) who is dead. (at least as far as he knows.) shang-chi was supposed to look after him and he's dead. he trained the kid, he taught him to use his sword and how to fight without it and patience and strategy and he loved lin lie like a little brother. and lin lie died alone in korea, falling from a cliff, saving their teammate. and shang-chi wasn't there. he could have saved them both if he was. he wanted to use his skills to be a hero, right? but instead he was with the society. trying to fix it, sure, to make it into something better, but he still prioritized it over his team. his friends.

and ultimately he's not a good enough son either. he's not a good supreme commander. the society is fracturing, his men are betraying him, his ancestral home is destroyed and he's forced to start over again in new york. he's not reforming his father's society, he's running it into the ground. he's not melting it down and molding it into something new, he's just building sandcastles out of the ashes.

no one would pass shang-chi. not even himself.

#shang chi #marvel comics #judgement day #I'm so sorry if you were on here because you liked my batfamily thoughts and you've just been blindsided by this monologue about comics #I'm doubly sorry if you saw shang-chi and got excited and then realized I was talking about comics characters you're unfamiliar with #I'm triply sorry if for some reason you're following the judgement day tag and you just came across this I hope you have a nice day #monolouge #I actually wrote this july 8 2023 and archived it to post when I was more confident #but I'm getting over my silly self and it only took twelve and a half days yay me!

[judedeluca]

Jude's 33rd Birthday Wishlist Wishtravaganza

It's the most wonderful time of the year. My birthday.

I've been so busy this past year with my work and my writing, and with so much I have to do this month in regards to my career and the holidays I wasn't able to really think much about this so I stuck with mostly my usual faves and a couple of new ones.

So if anyone wants to write or draw something for me for the most important day of the year, by all means. I'll have a kink one later, but right now I also have to work on holiday fic prompts for people.

For those interested in doing anything WG or BBM related for me, I'm just reusing the list from last year. I realized I've been making practically the same list every year and that's a waste of energy on my end.

(https://judedeluca.tumblr.com/post/701977512921759744/judes-32nd-birthday-wishlist-the-bbm-version)

Arsenal Family: Roy Harper and his daughter Lian, alongside Lian's half-brother Tommy Blake Jr. adopted into the family. A concept that was never included in the comics proper because Roy and Lian never found out about Tommy.

Berzerker (X-Men Evolution): Ray Crisp, an updated version of one of the Morlocks added to the Xavier Institute as one of the New Mutants. He was said to be a hothead, but aside from a briefly seen rivalry with Sunspot, was admittedly rather mellow. He was implied to have a past with Evo's version of the Morlocks.

Black Orchid (Justice League): A human/plant hybrid created from the DNA of Susan Thorne. She was the last surviving Orchid after Carl Thorne slaughtered the rest. Taking the name "Suzy," she went off with her older sister Flora. After going on various misadventures of her own, Suzy grew and eventually took the Black Orchid name when Flora was killed for trying to wipe out humanity.

Bolt (Teen Titans Academy): An indigenous Australian speedster who lost her legs due to the actions of her criminal parents. Amanda Waller got her into the United States and a pair of prosthetic legs, but Alinta refused to comply when Waller demanded she act as her soldier. Was last seen as a member of the short-lived Teen Titans Academy, but hasn't appeared since.

Catholic Girl (Xombi): As her name indicates, Catholic Girl is a Catholic school girl who also happens to be a superhero. She generates light and energy, force fields, and can fly. She's a sidekick to the telepathic Nun of the Above and a friend to Xombi.

Coagula (Doom Patrol): Kate Godwin, a transgender woman with the ability to generate energy capable of coagulating and dissolving substances. Joined the Doom Patrol after defeating the Codpiece, becoming a sisterly figure to Dorothy Spinner and entering into an emotional relationship with Robotman.

Dark Angel (Wonder Woman): A demonic witch obsessed with making Donna Troy as utterly miserable as possible. She initially served as the Anti-Monitor's Harbinger, but overcame his control and fled into the Multiverse. Has fought Wonder Woman, the Justice Society, and the Titans on various occasions.

Erina Goldsmith (Variable Geo): A Japanese-American woman who spent years being bullied for her mixed heritage. She now owns and operates a restaurant called The Rival, where she and her staff dress as Playboy Bunnies. She uses a cigarette lighter to focus her energy, and keeps her tucked between her bust while fighting.

Forte Drums (Sleepless Domain): Debbie, the drummer of Team Forte. She's the cute one with the bowtie, thinks she can get away with anything. She's notoriously ranked lowest on popularity charts in the past, but she's the most popular in my heart.

Foxfire (Squadron Supreme): A criminal with the ability to create a bioluminescent energy capable of rotting anything, Olivia Underwood was brainwashed into becoming a superhero by the Squadron Supreme. The brainwashing was eventually undone, but Olivia couldn't bring herself to betray the Squadron because she'd fallen in love with Doc Spectrum and liked being a hero. She was stabbed in the back by the Mink after killing Nighthawk.

Harry and Alex Altman (Goosebumps #45: Ghost Camp): Brothers spending the summer at rustic Camp Spirit Moon. They're disturbed by the various "pranks" the veteran campers like to pull due to how violent they are. It takes a while before they discover the camp's dark secret...

Hourman III (Justice Society of America): Matthew Tyler, a robotic inheritor of the Hourman created in the 853rd Century. He travelled back in time and became a member of both the Justice League and the Justice Society. He lived with former JLA sidekick Snapper Carr to better learn about himself and humanity.

Hypnotia (Iron Man: The Animated Series): A villainess with hypnotic abilities who worked under the Mandarin. Among his entourage of lackeys, Hypnotia was the only one with any degree of competency and had the respect of her boss. Dreadknight and Blacklash often fought for her attention, while she was infatuated with Tony Stark.

Kim/Taurus (Zodiac Starforce): One of the most recent recruits of the new version of Zodiac Starforce. Kim's the sturdiest and most physical member of the team and actively enjoys fighting evil. She's in a committed relationship with her boyfriend Josh, which her teammates find either adorable (Savannah, Lily) or nauseating (Molly). Her dream's to be a pro wrestler.

Joker’s Daughter (Batman): Duela Dent's a confused young woman who flips between good and evil depending on how she feels. She introduced herself to Robin and Batgirl by pulling off a series of "crimes" under several different guises in order to demonstrate her skills to join the Teen Titans. Though she's claimed to be both Joker's daughter and Two-Face's daughter, the truth's more complicated thanks to extensive mental trauma she's suffered over the years.

La Pucelle (Magical Girl Raising Project): A magical girl whose real name is Souta Kishibe. Souta's always been a fan of magical girl stories but kept his hobby a secret from most. One day he was blessed with power by the mobile game Magical Girl Raising Project, gaining the ability to transfer into a female form and wielding a sword that can grow bigger or smaller at his command. As La Pucelle, he fights alongside his childhood best friend Koyuki, a.k.a. Snow White.

Oursonette (War Bears): A 1940s comic book heroine created by Alain "Al" Zurakowski, a werebear who aided the Canadian army during WWII.

Purple Tigress (Fox Comics): A minor Golden Age comic book heroine who only made two appearances in printed media before falling into the public domain. Heiress Anita "Ann" Morgan has eyes like a cat and dresses herself up as "her jungle namesake." Somehow no one recognizes her as the Purple Tigress despite her never wearing a mask.

Radietta Fanbelt/White Racer (Carranger): A young woman from another planet who fancies herself the biggest fan of the Carrangers, to the point she styles herself as their hypothetical sixth member, White Racer.

Rainbow Girl (Legion of Super-Heroes): A heroine rejected from the Legion of Super-Heroes, she later joined the Legion of Substitute-Heroes. She taps into the Emotional Spectrum, but her lack of control means she suffers from erratic moodswings.

Sailor Jupiter (Sailor Moon): Do I even have to say anything?

Serena del Mar (Wave Race: Blue Storm): My favorite, go-to racer from the Wave Race franchise.

Softkore (Local Man): A member of the extreme antihero team Third Gen. Softkore was a former R&B singer before her bod was coated in an experimental polymer.

Supergirl (Mae/Linda): Matrix was an artificial being from an alternate world. As she struggled to understand if she was human in any sense, she didn't hesitate to sacrifice her life to save a young woman named Linda Danvers. The two became merged, and due to Mae's sacrifice they gained new powers as an earth-born angel.

Talon (Spider-Man: The New Animated Series): An heiress named Cheyanne led a double life as the thrillseeking Talon, a thief who enjoyed stealing things which had sentimental value for their owners. In her civilian life she was slowly becoming a good friend to Harry Osborn and Mary Jane Watson, while as Talon her hatred of Spider-Man's patronizing attitude grew.

Tiara (Shamanic Princess): One of the earlier dark magical girls of the 1990s from the six episode OVA series Shamanic Princess. Tiara's a warrior from the Guardian World sent to retrieve its source of power, the Throne of Yord. With her new familiar Japolo, Tiara finds herself up against familiar faces as she realizes the struggle she's in is more complex than she assumed. She wants to do the right thing, but what IS the right thing?

Tormenta (Mahoney’s): A demonic sorceress connected to the Ebon Realms and a regular at Mahoney's bar for supervillains.

Fun fact, my interest in the character sparked Rich Carrington and Brian S. Dawson to use her more.

Tsumugi Wakana (Magia Record): A magical girl who loves enjoying good food and supporting good cooks. She made her wish for the sake of better supporting Manaka Kurumi, another magical girl who is also a talented chef. Tsumugi's wish gave her refined taste buds, allowing her to write deeper critiques by picking up on subtle distinctions in every meal she samples. Her weapons are a trident which splits apart to form a giant knife and fork.

Vickie Wheilson (Graveyard School): Vickie Wheilson, the neon-colored second top boardhead of Graveyard School alongside her more serious cousin Skate McGraw as THE skateboarder.

Wakaba Shinohara (Revolutionary Girl Utena): She is all that is good in the world.

#jude's birthday #jude's birthday wishlist #jude's 33rd birthday wishlist

[docgold13]

365 Marvel Comics Paper Cut-Out SuperHeroes - One Hero, Every Day, All Year…

November 6th - Cypher 

Doug Ramsey is a Mutant who possesses the capacity to understand any and all forms of communication.  This includes an innate ability to speak and understand all languages (human and alien) as well as decipher more abstract types of communication, such as body language, binary code, and even the conveyances of forms of floral and fauna.  

In his youth Doug was unaware of his being a Mutant, attributing his skills with language and computer programing to his just being gifted in these areas.  He would come to discover his being a Mutant after spending time with The New Mutants of the Xavier School.  Soon thereafter he was asked to join the team.

Taking the alias of ‘Cypher,’ Doug was frequently troubled by the feeling that his lack of offensive abilities made him the weakest member of the squad. His best friend became the alien Technarch shapeshifter Warlock, whom Doug was able to merge with so to become a more formidable combatant.

Doug was killed while defending Wolfsbane in battle from the Ani-Mator.  He was later forcibly resurrected during the Necrosha event wherein Selene used the Transmode Virus to revive previously dead Mutants.  With Warlock’s aide, Doug was able to free himself from Selene’s thrall and he eventually returned to The X-Men, becoming one of their primary strategist.  He later acted as a member of the Serval Industries iteration of X-Factor.

When Professor X began the process of establishing the Mutant nation of Krakoa, he asked Doug to communicate with the sentient island. The communion between Doug and Krakoa proved pivotal to the creation of the nation and, as such, Doug was offered a seat on the Quiet Council of Krakoa, the nation’s supreme government.  He additionally married Bei the Blood Moon, a Mutant of Arakko.  

The hero first appeared in the pages of New Mutants Vol. 1 #13 (1983).

#365 Marvel Comics Heroes #Cypher #Doug Ramsey #New Mutants #X-Men #cut-out #paper art

[thoselethalarts]

We interrupt your usual TWSTposting to bring you: this abomination I love so dearly 😊💕🦑🦈

I've been dying to draw him for like 2 months now, so here he is! Got his sheet ready just in time for Art Fight too~

Name: Flint Age: 19 Gender: Male Species: Shark-Squid (Mutant) Weapon: Carbon Roller Deco, Inkbrush Nouveau Occupation: Grizzco Employee, Fisherman, Food Stall Owner

Bio: Flint's family bloodline comes from the polar Antarctic. Nuclear warheads fired off into the Antarctic during the Last Human War caused intense amounts of radioactive fallout to concentrate in the area for many centuries. The radioactivity caused various species mutations to evolve in the frigid waters, including the bloodline that eventually would rein supreme as the alpha predators in the area: the squidsharks.

Flint makes a living in Splatsville working as a top employee of Grizzco, along with running his own food stall along the outskirts of town: "Killer Cutz". At his food stall people can order what fish they want to dine on at the stall, and Flint will dive into the ocean to fish it up by hand, wrestling the fish into submission, no matter how big or deadly it is, and makes a show of cutting it up and turning it into a delectable dish for his customer(s). On his off-time he still likes to fish normally with a rod and reel, too, (mostly) saving the theatrics for customers, and he travels frequently to follow the currents for new fish that he's yet to hunt and eat before.

During turf wars he prefers to stick exclusively to melee weapons and buckets, but his favorites are specifically the Carbon Roller Deco and Inkbrush Nouveau (current fav!) as he has absolutely atrocious aim with anything that fires like a standard gun. He is fast and aggressive both in inking and in attacking, but is also liable to commit to suicidal tactics in order to break past enemy defenses and distract them for his team.

#soul draws #splatoon #splatoon oc #inkling #mutant #Flint the Squidshark #oc #original character

[imperiuswrecked]

Hey Imp! I'm looking to purchase an omnibus or volume for any series Namor has and I was wondering what'd be the best for someone who's just getting into the character? I've read Atlantis Attacks, King in Black: Namor, Invaders (2019), and All New Invaders, but I want to read more surrounding him and his cast of characters. Since you're the resident expert, what do you recommend?

Hello! I highly recommend new Namor fans read Saga of the Sub-Mariner (1988), a 12 limited series that goes over Namor's entire history from the Golden Age until the 90s series. If you don't want to hunt down the single comics then you can find it in an Omnibus which also collects Jim Hammond's 4 issue limited series.

Sub-Mariner & The Original Human Torch

However the best era of Namor was in the Silver Age in terms of his supporting cast and stories that feature him and Atlantis. There's quite a few collections out there:

Marvel Masterworks: Sub-Mariner volumes collect: Marvel Comics #1 Daredevil (1964) #7 + 77 Tales to Astonish #70-101 Tales of Suspense #80 Iron Man & Sub-Mariner (1968) #1 The Sub-Mariner (1968) #1-72 Marvel Spotlight (1971) #27

This is the longest running and most definitive Silver Age run for Namor and Atlantis. It introduces a lot of characters, and Namor villains, and brings back old characters from the Golden Age as well.

Epic Collection: Sub-Mariner volumes collect: Fantastic Four (1961) #4, 6, 9, 14, 27, 33, Annual 1 Strange Tales (1951) #107 Avengers (1963) #3-4 X-Men (1963) #6 Daredevil (1964) #7 Tales to Astonish #70-76 The Sub-Mariner (1968) #4-27

There's some overlap/same issues here as the Masterworks but also I consider the Epic collection as Namor's early guest starring comics all in one place.

This is a new Omnibus, but it collects stuff that's been in the other two. Mighty Marvel Masterworks: Namor the Sub-Mariner collects:

Tales to Astonish #70-80 Daredevil (1964) #7

Prince, Namor the Sub-Mariner (1984) has not been collected to my knowledge but it's a 4 issue limited series

Personally I would rec Sub-Mariner: Revolution which collects: Sub-Mariner (2007) #1-6

The full 90s series has not been collected into an Omnibus yet but so far Marvel has put out a few volumes.

Namor: Visionaries - John Bryne collects Namor, the Sub-Mariner (1990) #1-18

Namor the Sub-Mariner by John Bryne & Jae Lee collects: Namor, the Sub-Mariner (1990) #1-40, Annual 1 + 2, Incredible Hulk Annual #18, Silver Surfer Annual 5, Doctor Strange: Sorcerer Supreme Annual 2

All that's left is the Namor: The First Mutant collections which I think is split into 2 volumes and collects Namor: The First Mutant (2010) - 11 issues + Annual, but it could be more like an x-men comic in there too or something

Namor in other omnibuses would be a lot because he's been on nearly every major Marvel team, and I know this is alot but I wanted to give you a complete look at the omnibuses that only focus on Namor solos and not the other teams omnibuses. As I said before I personally enjoy the comics of Sub-Mariner (2007), Tales to Astonish and The Sub-Mariner (1968), First Mutant is good too.

#namor #namor mckenzie #namor the sub mariner #imp answers #comic recs #reading guide #some of the art is not great but its all personal choices for art imo

[istherewifiinhell]

Secrets of the Ooze: Learnt

Ninja Rap: Witnessed

cannot be said truer than [quoting discord message] "but you dont understand officer the ninja turtles are in those [bad movies] and theyre my friends"

okay. its not a bad movie, they made worse movies then and they certainly make worse now. it just. understood that ninja turtles are so enjoyable you dont necessarily have to like. particularly strong. plots. arcs. stakes. etc so its both a fun movie of fun turtle stuff and also. As a movie. like. What. which i guess is pretty normal sequel behaviour??

New April actor. Sad I liked the last one, she's still good just not as good or like. doing things either in the, reporting ploty sense or the. emotional character work sense. At least no bad vibes romance but thats. Low bar.

Splinter takes the real fucking L. Barely in it. Less like. endearing performance (vocal). Low Dad Energy, does dispense some wisdom to the. Obligatory kid character. And makes his own kids do. time out corner backflips. Does a funny.

Turtles are ofc. Perfect my perfect boys. I love them. Nerfed by. not allowed to, fight using their weapons. sad, except donnie the king (bo staff seen as less violent i guess??). Small mikey reigns supreme, hes perfect. There also a little weaker on the like. Actual team dynamics like. Which like. they're in the theme song u kno? Does leo lead or is he just. the goody goody? Oh well i guess.

Note abt the effects is that, all the faces & splinter puppet seemed. Drier? Wet these beasts. Grime em up. But they do have big cute eyes. so.

Plot tho. What is... the secret of the ooze. Well a scientific company had an accident of chemicals and radiation and fucked up disposing of the waste. ofc. Thats literally it. 15 yr ago Ooze fall in sewer, make turtles and rat Big. Present, The shredder, who was crushed in a garbage truck in the last one. He's back. He got the Ooze. Makes mutants to try and get revenge. Is defeated. end movie. Cowabunga.

The mutants he makes are also not. a rhino and warthog, bebop and rocksteady. Why. Seems like a gimmie?? They're a snapping turtle (cute. to me.) and wolf (not) and they are infact baby mutants. And nothing is done with this fact they just get demutated. Why do we refuse to give the turtles baby siblings. makes me sad every time (common enough tv ep plot).

Oh and Ninja rap. The entire climax fight does happen and like mr. ice is just there. Ninja rap.... its okay..... it is fun to say go ninja go ninja go tho.

#some shit #in conclusion: being a turtles fan does make u stonger because i just like the turtles so much. even when the thing is. middling to bad. #not proud of how its gonna be getting to the bay films okay. im sorry. #anyway the real metric for turtle content is not funny to funny and no crying to crying (for the turtles [cause emotional turts is good]) #and this is a funny no crying. versus the first one was a funny with crying. #thx 4 coming to the ted talk etc etc. anyway

[iconuk01]

"The name is Ramsey... Doug Ramsey."

Agent Double-Cypher-Seven is on the case... with his ever present Warlock-PPK.

(Q Division would be SO jealous!)

Art by the ever magnificent @leighwortley aka @stem-cell

#doug ramsey #cypher #warlock #leigh wortley #stem-cell #x-men #new mutants #team supreme #selfsoulfriends

[freedvmrouge]

JUST WATCHED DR STRANGE IN THE MULTIVERSE SO SPOILERS!!

Ok y’all, why did no one fucking tell me that America Chavez was gonna be in it? Alright, maybe it’s my own fault bc I avoided any and all teasers for it and closed my eyes whenever an unskippable ad popped up. But c’mon!! I love her so much and I am more excited by her being in the mcu than anything new coming out (like, new heroes). Learning about her origin and powers as we did was really seamless, I feel. We just learned about her through this journey. Something you end up doing when you spend time with someone. Plus, they used the show don’t tell rule really well here. I appreciate that.

And yo, but the way Wanda and Stephen’s problems were at the core the same (that they couldn’t move on and felt like the universe was against them), and how they worked in parallel to each other was super cool. I loved seeing Wanda like this. At the core, she’s a good person, I believe that. But sometimes, you can only take so much. Her goal of getting her children is so simple, and tbh, it really is. Get the darkhold and get America. Boom, done. But they took that simple idea and created this awesome story, and I think that was great.

Now, uhm… that universe with the Illuminati? Yeah lol I fucking love that team. I want to write fics exploring that universe so bad. Though I feel sad that since Wanda killed them all, that universe doesn’t have their protectors anymore. I wonder if we’ll ever find out more about that universe.

I did not expect Black Bolt to be there, but they did so well with the casting. Both in the characters and as the members of the Illuminati itself. We have: Black Bolt, an Inhuman. Professor X, a mutant (who was written really well btw, they kept his core value to see the good in people and I love that). Captain Carter, a super soldier. Captain Marvel, a superhuman who has lived in outer space (seriously, her fight with Wanda was one for the books bc I think they’re the most powerful people thus far). Mordo, the sorcerer supreme. Mr. Fantastic, a scientist who was also turned superhuman/mutant. We got roughly every power category here.

I know people like to say that Civil War would’ve never happened with Captain Carter, but I think the mere fact that those who are superhuman have the same objective (and they’re communicating with each other!!) and are so good at containing the bad stuff that happens is what actually makes them work. Oh also, they’re their own secret organization. No SHIELD/SWORD and no government controlling them. It’s them acting as their own governing body.

Damn, since Charles is in that wheelchair, I wonder when this organization was actually created. He had his own struggles with getting rights for mutants after all, so I wanna know what all changed regarding that in this universe. Note that the Superhuman Registration Act (SHRA) happened about two decades prior. That was the first Sokovia Accords. Humans have always been discriminatory towards superhumans.

Last of all, I absolutely loved this film. Not the zombies, I don’t enjoy zombies. But everything else was cool.

#dr strange and the multiverse of madness #river song’s voice: #spoilers #dr strange #stephen strange #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #i can’t tag anything else #bc then my spoiler warning is null and void #multiverse #parallel universes #dimension travel #personal thoughts #first impressions #and apparently i got the title wrong #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #void.talk

[navek15]

“Western Comics are nothing but identity politics and leftist propaganda!”

Oh, really? I didn’t know that Superman attempting to free a planet full of slaves, heroic exploits of the various Ant-Men, the Avengers preparing to fight over 600 versions of the devil, another multiveral team of Avengers going on crazy adventures, Loki bringing a team of Defenders together to deal with a cosmic threat, a scientist couple merging into a singular superhero, a young man documenting the sorted history of an ancient house, the Hulk going of a crazy odyssey through time and space, a boy learned he’s the son of the legendary Monkey King, a Power Rangers-inspired image comic, Clea Strange dealing with the mantle of Sorceror Supreme, the Justice League re-imagined as dinosaurs, Hawkeye and Spectrum forming a new Thunderbolts team, the tale of the last Transformer in existence, or exploring the lives of the mutants living on Mars was all just identity politics and leftist propaganda.

I must’ve missed that.

Maybe don’t base your entire outlook on western comics over an out-of-context panel, a poorly conceived story (that you also don't have the full context for) or a comic that never even got published.

I’m just saying.

#marvel #dc #image comics #boom studios #idw #milestone #comic books #hot take #teen titans academy #x-men green #new warriors

[assassuub]

In Regards to Fundamentally Ruining Ms. Marvel as a Character

I assume all of this has been said before by people better qualified to speak on these matters, but my anger over the recent... developments with Ms. Marvel has burnt out, leaving me just... sad and so very, very tired.

So these are just my few cents on the matter, before cutting most, if not all, Marvel content from my life.

Even beyond the grossly humiliating manner in which she was killed in a rather mediocre P*ter P*rker comic she shouldn't have been part of in the first place (regardless of how little she was actually present), this "N*w Mutant" she's been replaced with has so many glaring issues.

The Ms. Marvel that I loved, that I've experienced grow over years of character development wouldn't have suddenly reverted to a feckless fangirl, desperate for validation from adults that she doesn't know nor has interacted with. She's more naive than ever, even; the idea that a brown Pakistani-American Muslim girl needs to be lectured about how discrimination works by E*ma Fr*st (a White Blonde Girlboss Supreme, Race Supremacist, and Prior Terrorist) is not only laughable, but downright insidious and disgusting.

The character that I loved would never have discarded her family, friends, and team as easily as this mutant replacement did. Her statement that she didn't expect former-mentor Iron Man or supposedly-current-friend-and-teammate Nova (Sam Alexander) to come to her aid since she's "playing for the other team now" was deeply insulting. Her decision to reveal her identity to the world as an impossible "Inhu-mutant" was a shockingly naive and downright stupid idea that someone who has so zealously guarded her secret identity would never suggest, especially at a time when "anti-mutant hysteria" is at its peak; when it would so immediately bring harm to the people that she loved.

But that is a fundamental problem with the X-M*n and mutants as a whole: there is no room in the Marvel universe for them to exist without pushing them as a ludicrous allegory for discrimination. They can only exist as a mutant; only for the X-M*n's failing culture wars. Ms. Marvel especially struggles to fit into the X-M*n framework of discarding everything personal to push the X-M*n's ideology; where massive swathes of X-M*n simply lack any meaningful ties to the human world, Ms. Marvel has family and friends that accept and love her; family and friends that she wouldn't simply discard to deepthroat X-M*n boot.

Ms. Marvel was one of my favorite characters. I loved seeing her perspective on the world as a Pakistani-American Muslim. I loved her interacting with a wide variety of people, leading her team of individual heroes and friends. I loved that she and her Champions wanted to make the world a better place for all.

But that's a thing of the past now. The new, mutantier Ms. Marvel only cares about the X-M*n; about the X-M*n's stupid, segregationist ethnonation. She has abandoned her family and friends that I enjoyed seeing her interact with to desperately seek the validation of people she's never had a conversation with. Her values that led her to make her own team to fight to make the world a better place for all have been discarded for X-M*n ethnonationalism.

Ms. Marvel's dead. She died ignominiously, begging for validation from P*ter P*rker, only to be replaced by a bootlicking X-M*n prop that has fundamentally ruined everything that I loved about the character.

Also: The potential of an Ironheart story wherein she has a debut as a Magitech Hero was immense and something that I was looking forward to, as well. As you might imagine, I am also enraged that it was thrown away off-panel in favor of having the Iron Man comic be usurped by some witless X-M*n swill, but the ruination of Ms. Marvel is a higher priority.

#marvel #ms. marvel #kamala khan #i emailed this to [email protected] #which is where i was told to send complaints about Iron Man (2020)'s art vis-à-vis black characters #doubt it'll do anything but i might as well

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #110: NM issues 65-66

The other kids, and especially Max, are unconvinced that Forge deserves to die. Illyana ports off to Scotland, hoping her beloved Kitty will agree with her, but she doesn't, leaving Illyana more hurt and angry than before. But when she returns to the mansion, the other kids jump on her before she can port again, and they all find themselves in Limbo. It's worse than ever before, reflecting Illyana's hatred and rage. The team decides to go with Illyana to protect her; none of them are convinced she's right, but the most important thing to all of them is staying together right now. Illyana takes the soulsword from its place in Limbo and ports the team to Forge. In the absence of both Illyana and the sword, S'ym plots some evil plans, while on Earth, Destiny has foreseen this attack and has brought Freedom Force to protect Forge. There's a big fight that lasts most of the issue. It's not bad action, and I suppose the book needed it after a few months of sad conversations, but it's not terribly interesting to me. There are some good moments, like when Rahne leaps into danger to protect Illyana and when Sam knocks Illyana down to stop her from getting to Forge. Eventually, Dani projects Destiny's greatest fear- an invasion of demons that she says will stem from Illyana's actions this issue, unless the other New Mutants heed her warnings. Illyana isn't fazed, motivated by nothing but hatred, and she grabs Forge and prepares to strike him down.

I don't think I've mentioned Bret Blevins, the penciller who's been working with Simonson. He's not my favorite or least favorite, although he does draw a truly terrifying angry Illyana. I mention him because the layouts are different this issue, big and blocky instead of the organic panels he usually uses. I don't know why. It doesn't look bad, just a little jarring, like suddenly I'm reading something from the 2000s. Anyway, the New Mutants try to stop the battle between the two sorcerers unsuccessfully. Forge has the upper hand on Earth, so Illyana drags them all to Limbo, where she reigns supreme. The land comes alive and traps the New Mutants while Illyana and Forge battle. Forge tells Illyana she's what he was like at her age; how through magic, they should both have had foresight, but got drunk on their own power. Forge summoned the Adversary in the first place, and Illyana took Peter to Dallas. Forge is tired of other people suffering for mistakes he didn't think through, so he lets Illyana stab him, disrupting his magic. But before she can kill him, Dani shows her her own fear- herself as a full demon. It shakes Illyana out of her rage, and despite the demons of Limbo encouraging her to finish her enemy, she instead saves her friends from the vines that are suffocating them. Rahne begs her not to lose her own soul, and Illyana throws Forge back to Dallas and takes her friends home. She tells them she's too dangerous to stay on Earth, but can't go back to Limbo full time. Cut to space for a teaser; an spider alien named...Spyder...is telling her minion Gosamyr that she's gonna go kidnap and enslave Lila Cheney.

After a few issues for character stuff, this was a solid two parter that continued those themes while having the action a superhero book is technically supposed to have, pushing the plot forward and setting up Inferno. I have mixed feelings about Forge, because I know he didn't want any of this but it is pretty much all his fault. Rahne's love for Illyana, born out of the fear she used to have of her, is very sweet and will be crucial in saving the world soon. I'm glad Inferno is being set up slowly, but honestly this story had a little to much Illyana focus for me. In X-Factor, the big Right and Apocalypse stories were centered on Warren, but the ensemble felt very balanced. Maybe it's because the cast was smaller in that book, but Illyana always feels like she's hogging the page rather than sharing it while moving the plot. Oh well. It's good stuff, and I do love Illyana, so I'm not too upset about it.

#wes reads xmen