Happy Birthday @neil-gaiman 🥳🥳🥳❤❤❤

I Hate You, I Love You

Peter Maximoff x reader smut (might do a part two for this after Peter is healed so him and reader can really have a good time 👀)

word count: 2.9k

warnings: handjob, whiny Peter, maybe ooc peter? I’ve never written for him before. Peter steals a pair of readers undies, begging, uhhh peter being a whiny baby

Most people would die for the chance to know a superhero. You? Not so much. You knew a superhero.. and you hated him.

Maybe hate was a strong word, but you really didn’t like him. He was weird, and jittery, and his vibe just seemed off. You’d known him since the fifth grade, when he started being the little shit he was, using his powers to steal other kids’ things. A cookie, a pen, etc.

One time he ran by you so fast he knocked you over and you scraped your knees. After that day you hated him. Hated his stupid silver hair and his dumb t-shirts.

By the time you two got to highschool, he was even worse. He didn’t fit in with the other kids, being too different to really find a group of people. He wasn’t a jock, and he wasn’t really a nerd. Somewhere in the middle. He mostly kept to himself, eating lunch at the back of the cafeteria at a small table by himself.

Before you knew it, things started happening with you two. One day he sat next to you at lunch and just started talking. Nothing in particular, just talking to talk. He did that a lot. His mouth was always moving, just like his body. You’d never seen him sit still and be quiet for more than five minutes.

You ignored him most of the time, scoffing at some of his comments as you ate your lunch, just biding your time until the bell rang and you could get the hell out of there.

This happened for a few months before you even really had real conversations with him. You formed an almost friendship when you were both paired up for a project for science class.

Peter was ecstatic. You on the other hand… didn’t really think too much about it. It was just a simple assignment and once it was done things could go back to normal.

Peter harbored some type of weird obsession with you. Maybe it was because you didn’t show him any attention, that he started pining for it, but he was desperate to get you to talk to him. To even look at him.

You had invited him over to your house to talk about the project, not wanting to go to his house and risk being alone with him. At least one of your parents would be home. You didn’t take Peter for a creep, nor sensed him ever being any danger to you, but men could be unpredictable, and you’d rather not take your chances.

He’d zoomed up the stairs to your room, jumping on your bed with absolutely no regard for manners.

He settled against your pillows, just looking up at you with that stupid grin he always wore. You wanted to strangle the boy.

You both worked on your project for a while before Peter declared he was hungry, and with a sigh you told him you’d grab some snacks and be. right up

Realistically Peter knew he shouldn’t snoop around. He knew it was an invasion of privacy and if you caught him, any chances of him befriending you would go right down the drain.

Still, he stood up as quietly as he could, looking around your room and getting a good look at everything before snooping in your dresser drawers. Shirts. Pants. And…

Jackpot.

He’d found your underwear drawer. His eyes widened a bit as he quickly glanced at the door, making sure you weren’t coming back, before he picked up the very first pair his hand came in contact with. Red panties with a little white bow in the front. They were fucking cute and they were definitely his now. He stuffed them into his backpack before he sat back on the bed, trying to act normal and like he definitely hadn’t just stolen a pair of your fucking panties.

The rest of your time together went just fine. You noticed Peter acting weirder than usual, but just brushed it off because he was just a weird dude.

Eventually you finished the project and he left, barely saying goodbye before he sped down the stairs and was gone.

You hadn’t even noticed anything was gone until the next day when you went to get dressed and your favorite pair of panties was missing. Of course your first thought wasn’t that Peter had stolen them. You just figured you had misplaced them. You tore your whole room apart looking for them before giving up. How had they just gone missing?

Now Peter on the other hand was very proud of his new prize, having just stared at them for nearly an hour after he got home, imagining how they looked on you.

He stuffed them under his bed before he went to sleep, a happy, satisfied smile on his lips. He just really really hoped you didn’t notice that they were gone.

Time went by and after you presented your project to the class, you and Peter drifted apart again. Your suspicions of him stealing from you, and his slight guilt for doing so drove you two apart.

You resented Peter. He was just so weird, and maybe a part of you thought he was cute, but you’d never admit it. Even to yourself. Absolutely not.

After you graduated high school, you didn’t see much of him anymore unless it was on the news. Sure he lived only a few doors down, but you made sure to avoid him, and he never went out of his way to talk to you.

When you did see him on the tv, a part of you missed getting to see him in person everyday. He had really grown into himself and looked at least a bit more mature than he had. I mean after all he was a superhero now. It was odd to think about, that he was running around saving people while you just continued on with your life as if you never knew him.

At this point you figured you’d never talk to him again. Hell, he probably didn’t want to talk to you. The girl who completely ignored him in highschool? He probably hated you as much as you hated him.

Of course, he didn’t though. Peter was still absolutely enthralled by you, wanting nothing more than to talk to you again, but he kept his distance. He had eventually gotten rid of the pair of panties, every time he saw them it caused his heart to break a little more. Why couldn’t you just like him back? Why couldn’t he just get over you already? It had been years and he’d still drop everything for you if you asked him to.

You hadn’t seen him in a while, even while you were trying to purposely peek out your window and wait for him to zoom past. It didn’t come. You didn’t see or hear from him. One day you heard from one of your friends that he'd been injured. Like… pretty badly.

As much as you hated to admit it, you worried for him. His job was dangerous and this just further proved it.

You wanted to go over and see if he was okay, but figured it may be weird. You hadn’t talked in several years and he may not even remember you at this point.

That’s why when his mom knocked on your door one afternoon, you were very very worried. You had immediately asked her if something was wrong and to your instant relief, she said no. She explained that she was going out of town with Peter’s little sister and wouldn’t be back for a few days. She asked you to keep an eye on him, make sure he got his pain meds and was fed because he was basically bedridden due to having a fractured arm and broken leg.

You agreed, because who would you be to tell the woman no? So she gave you a spare key and gave you the layout of the house.

On the day you were supposed to go over, you put on a nice skirt and shirt that hugged your body just right. Honestly you didn’t even know why you dressed up. You were going over there to take care of him, to make sure he wasn’t in any pain, so why were you thinking about looking nice?

You used the key you’d been given and let yourself into the house, looking around. It was a neat house, and his mother had told you that his room was downstairs in the basement, so you made your way down there.

You stopped about halfway down the steps, calling out to make sure Peter wasn’t startled.

“Peter! It’s- it’s me- y/n? Your mom asked me to come check on you and help you with some stuff.”

You heard what sounded like a pained groan as you made your way fully down the steps to find Peter laying in his bed, leg in a cast and propped up on a pillow. He looked up at you with the saddest eyes and you knew it was killing him not being able to move, let alone race around like he loved to do.

“Hurts.” He croaked, trying to sit up a bit, wincing. He hadn’t gotten his medicine this morning because his mom had left in such a rush, so he was in a lot of pain.

You quickly grabbed the bottle of pain meds from his dresser and took one out. One every 8 hours it said. You could definitely do that. You filled up a glass of water and carefully helped him sit up, bringing the water to his lips so he could swallow the pills.

He looked pathetic and it did make you sad seeing him in such a state. After all these years this was not how you expected to meet him again.

He gave you a grateful smile before slumping back into bed, a breath escaping his parted lips as he looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. He was obviously bored and your mind raced, wondering what you could do to make him feel better.

He liked music, right? He always had those earbuds in during school, head bobbing along to whatever tune he was listening to.

You grabbed his Walkman from the floor and turned it on, listening as the music blared from the headphones. You carefully turned it down before offering a bud to Peter, who took it with his good hand and put it in his ear, body seeming to instantly relax at the sound of the music.

You decided to put the other bud into your ear, wondering what his music taste was like. It was pretty similar to yours and you found yourself humming along.

That’s how it was for the first couple days. You two just sat, listening to music and not really speaking much. Peter slept a lot, the pain meds usually knocking him out for several hours. You made him food and helped him up, out of bed to use the bathroom.

On the fourth day he seemed to feel a bit better and was definitely more talkative, super curious about your life and what you’d been up to these past years. You caught him up on everything you cared to share, finding it really easy to talk to him. And also… enjoyable? He wasn’t the annoying boy you once knew. He was much more than that now, even if he was still a little dumb.

He seemed eager for you to leave on the fifth day. He kept saying he was fine and that he’d be okay the rest of the day. He was also super jittery, which you just attributed to his not being able to get up and move around. That wasn’t it at all though. Now that he was no longer in pain, he was horny as fuck, and hadn’t been able to jerk off. He’d tried, but trying to jerk it with his left hand just didn’t work. He couldn’t even cum.

He was a bit snappy as well, which made you a bit frustrated. You’d been helping him this whole entire time and he was acting like a dick.

You were on your last straw when you tried to take his blanket off of him to get a fresh one and put this one in the dryer and he yelled at you.

“No! No, leave it on me!”

You startled a bit before you glared at him, tugging harder on the blanket. What was he doing? He wasn’t as strong as he usually would be and didn’t have a good grip on the blanket, so it slid off, causing you to take a few steps back.

Once the blanket was off of his body, you saw why he wanted it kept on. He had a boner. He was in a simple t-shirt and boxers shorts and his dick was totally straining against the fabric.

His cheeks burned in embarrassment and he wanted to curl up and die. How embarrassing was this. It wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t help it, but he was scared you’d be disgusted.

“Peter-“ you started, blinking a few times and turning his gaze back to his face, clearing your throat.

“I’m sorry I- I didn’t know- I can leave- I’ll let you take care of that-“ you had dropped the blanket and went to walk back upstairs.

“Wait no!” He cried out, trying to sit up, wincing a bit. He looked desperate, eyes pleading with you as he took a deep breath.

“Please- fuck- please help me.” He whispered in the most pathetic tone you’d ever heard come out of a man. It was quite sad.

But… help him? Help him with wh-…oh. Help him with that.

You knew you should have just walked right up those stairs and out of the house, but the way Peter looked at you sent a shiver down your spine and you found yourself taking a step towards the bed, glancing back down at his clothed erection.

“Please, I- shit I’ve tried jerkin’ off but I can’t do it with my left hand. Please just- just one time? I promise I won’t make it weird.” He begged, eyes wide and brimming with tears from how desperate he was for release.

Without a word you silently nodded, letting your hand rest on his thigh before your fingers slid under the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. Peter’s breath hitched and he swore you moved in slow motion. Just get on with it, he thought.

His cock sprung free as you pulled his boxers down to his knees, eyes widening. The tip was nearly purple and pre-cum seemed to pour from it, coating the throbbing length. He tried to arch his hips up into the air, a groan leaving his lips as the ache in his leg came back.

You hushed him gently, a careful hand coming to wrap around his length. The second you touched him, a shout came from his lips, trying his best not to buck up into the touch. Finally, Finally after all these years this was happening. Like really happening. Maybe Peter had died and gone to heaven. Surely this couldn’t be real… right?

But it was. It was oh so real. The way your hand gingerly squeezed his cock, thumb brushing over the tip. Peter knew he wasn’t going to last long at all. He tried his best not to bust a nut in the first thirty seconds, but it was difficult when the literal girl you’d been obsessed with since the fifth grade was finally doing exactly what you’d wanted her to do for so long.

He was in pure ecstasy. This was better than any pain med he’d been prescribed. The pain in his leg was seemingly nonexistent as all he focused on was the pleasure he was receiving.

“Oh f-fuck! Oh my god- oooooh shit that’s good-“ he mumbled, still even now never being able to shut up.

“Please- oh god I’m close I’m gonna- shit I’m gonna cum I’m sorry- I’m sorry-“ he groaned, hips flexing just a bit as without much more warning, he came in long, hot, thick ropes across your hand and over his stomach.

He came a lot, and you saw how much he truly needed this release. He panted, eyes rolled to the back of his head as he tried to catch his breath.

You reached over him to grab a tissue to clean him and yourself up, wiping him off gently before pulling his boxers back up, tucking him away as his body shuddered with the aftershocks of his intense release.

He managed to peek his eyes open to look at you with a tired smile.

“That was fuckin’ good. I promise I’ll pay you back when my leg is better.”

And he definitely kept that promise, because a few weeks later when he was fully healed (super speed things) he fucked you so hard he actually broke the headboard of his bed. After that, you two spent a lot more time together and eventually he gained the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. You said yes.

It was crazy to think that what started as such a hatred towards this boy had led to this, but you wouldn’t change it for a second.

Roadtripppp!

Soap, squished in the back seat: And why exactly does Gaz get to sit in the front again, Cap'n? Price, driving: Because he's my favourite. Also I don't trust Ghost being near the wheel. Ghost, grumbling looking out the window: Whatever, asshole. Gaz, smug in the front seat: It's true though, ever since Las Almas- Ghost: I get it, I get it, you don't have to remind me. Rudy, smushed between Soap and Ghost: Why am I here again? Soap: I needed a cuddle buddy, obviously? Ghost isn't a cuddling type, are you Ghost? Ghost: Nope. Rudy, sobbing: I want to go home. Alex, in the trunk: Can we pull over I REALLY need to piss. Farah, strapped to the roof outside peering through a window: Oh YOU want to pull over??!? Alejandro in Gaz's footwell like a literal dog: I feel so uncomfortable right now. Laswell, on the phone already at the destination, laughing: Should've just taken a plane, lady and gents. Should've just taken a fucking plane.

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