#MCU Fanfiction

[d3v1ls4dvocat3]

Doomed

James “Bucky” Barnes x Fem! Reader Smut

Summary: When Bucky notices the new neighbor, he can’t seem to get her out of his head! Whatever will he do?

W.C: 1600

Tags: Smut!, pervert! Bucky, panty thief! bucky, guilty bucky?, mentions of lingerie, AFAB! Reader, age gap but it’s not specified, male masturbation, breast fixation, nipple fixation, p in v? kinda? it doesn’t actually happen, Bucky POV, mentions of steve, mentions of war and Buck being the Winter Solider

MDNI!! Let me know if I missed anything!!

He remembers the exact day you moved into the apartment across the hall.

It was only a few days before the new year. Everyone on the floor had seemingly left to be with family, not that he bothered to keep track of his neighbors whereabouts, but he had noticed the overall lack of people when he made the unfortunate trip out of his apartment to see his therapist every other day.

That made your appearance even more noticeable.

Bucky liked to keep track of everyone he saw day-to-day anyway, it helped calm his nerves (rather he told himself it calmed his nerves) and luckily enough for him, you didn’t want to stop and introduce yourself.

Over the next few weeks, he only saw you a handful of times. You both never said anything, barely even looked at each other. It was nice.

Of course, nothing lasts forever. His therapist was sure to tell him that, much to his distain. Strangely enough, it was on one of his trips coming back from another session with Dr. Raynor that he found you cursing to yourself standing outside your apartment.

A part of him wanted to just walk by, and avoid the headache altogether. But he could hear a quiet voice in his mind that sounded a lot like Steve telling him to man up and help a poor lady in need. He sighed mentally and cleared his throat to grab your attention.

You looked up with slight shock and embarrassment. “Oh.. uhm, I’m not in your way am I?” You asked.

He frowned. “No, sorry. You look like you’re having some trouble there?”

Your eyes seemed to light up. “Is it that obvious?”

Bucky chuckled lightly and stepped closer to you, offering a hand of assistance. You gladly handed him your key.

“This building is old. These keys get stuck all the time. You’ve gotta know how to turn it to get it to unlock,” Bucky said as he fidgeted with your lock.

You watched him with unwavering eyes. Unknowingly to you, he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. This was the first time he’d really gotten a good look at your face. You were young, way younger than anyone he’d talked to recently. Most likely a college student. You held yourself with confidence but not in a way that made you seem cocky. You just had a sense of determination he hadn’t seen in a long time.

It was refreshing. Reminded him of sunlight.

He immediately frowned at that thought and focused his attention on your lock. Within a moment a quiet ‘click’ sounded through the small hallway. Your face lit up with a smile so bright he almost had to look away.

“Oh my god, thank you! I seriously thought I was fucked there,” You exclaimed.

He nodded and stepped back. “No problem. You can come get me if it does it again. I’m pretty much always home.”

You smiled again, gentler this time. “I will. Seriously, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He watched you escape into the comfort of your home. He smiled, unbeknownst to himself and turned to his own apartment.

Cute.

_____

The next time he saw you was only a few weeks later.

Since the door fiasco, Bucky couldn’t get you out of his head. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you was like a breath of fresh air. He felt almost addicted to it, to how he felt at that moment.

So when he opened the door to the laundry room he was understandably surprised to see you. He was also even more surprised to see you in nothing but pajama pants and a very very small tank top.

And no bra.

He was going to turn around. Laundry could wait. Just as soon as his hand hit the door knob, he heard an intake of breath.

“It’s you!”

He sighed.

Bucky turned back around and smiled. “It’s me.”

You were smiling that same damn smile. He felt weak in his knees.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” You said happily.

He nodded. “I don’t get out much.”

You hummed in understanding. “I get that. I’m still getting used to the city myself.”

It was quiet for only a moment, before you noticed Bucky’s small basket of laundry. You quietly moved over and motioned to the washing machine.

“I’m almost done with the dryer,” You said. Bucky muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ and began throwing his clothes into the washer. Once he was finished you both sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“I don’t think I ever got your name…?”

Bucky himself was surprised at the question that came from his mouth. You also seemed surprised for a second before grinning.

As you said your name, he watched your lips form the word. Your name fit you, he thought. He whispered it to himself, trying to commit it to memory. Although, he was sure just like everything else about you, he wouldn’t forget it.

“James,” He said in return.

“Nice to officially meet you, James,” You practically purred. He felt his knees go weak again. He feared that might be a common occurrence around you.

As the silence fell over you again, Bucky began to struggle with his most recent thoughts. He questioned why he was acting like a teenager with a crush again?

Bucky had been through more than twenty men combined. He’d done things so horrible he couldn’t even speak about it. He’d seen things that would make anyone want to commit suicide. So why, out of all things, was a girl making him feel so weak?

He quietly looked over at you again. He traced the outline of your figure. Your hair down to your eyelashes. His eyes moved to your lips, plump and wet from where you’d licked them while talking.

He continued trailing down until his eyes stopped on your breasts. He felt guilt wash over him immediately at the practically sinful sight before him. He could perfectly make out your tits. The cold air in the room had made your nipples perk up just enough to poke through the already thin tank top.

Bucky glanced away quickly as the buzzer from the dryer sounded. He turned slightly to hide his tightening pants. You bent over to grab your clothes and he practically called out to god to strike him dead right there before he made a fool of himself.

It felt like years before you were up again and leaving the room. Before you closed the door, you waved bye to him. Bucky had to force every once of what he’d learned as an assassin just to seem normal enough to wave back.

Once the door closed behind you, he groaned and put his face in his hands. He tried to calm his breathing, using some of the techniques Dr. Raynor had taught him in one of their very first sessions. It was probably close to ten minutes before he felt okay enough to remove his hands from his face.

Bucky needed to calm down. You were just a girl. There was absolutely no reason to be feeling like this.

He repeated that to himself as he took his clothes out of the washing machine. As he went to throw them into the dryer, a small bright red thing caught his eye.

He grabbed it before he could even process what it was. He held up the laced piece of clothing he wasn’t sure would cover anything and knew he was doomed.

“Fucking dirty girl…”

_________

He was a pervert.

He knew he was a pervert. He felt guilty and ashamed and terrible.

However,

The thought of you wearing nothing but those red laced panties and a matching bra had been plaguing Buck’s mind. He couldn’t stop. He’d tried. He’d done everything he could think of.

He’d taken a cold shower.

He’d gone for a run.

He even tried to watch some of the movies that Steve had written down in his journal of things he “absolutely needs to watch and listen to” or whatever the blond had said.

Nothing could get that image out of his head.

It was three in the morning when he was fed up and aching and he needed release. He hadn’t meant to grab them. He was simply caught up in the moment. His hand stroking up and down his cock. He moaned and stroked faster.

Once the soft fabric touched his tip, he had to stop himself from instantly cumming.

“Oh fuck…” He moaned. Bucky wrapped the thong tightly around his hand. In his mind, he imagined your hips rubbing up and down his hard on. Teasing him in every way you knew would rile him up.

“Something wrong, Barnes?”

He groaned. He was fucking up into his fist now. He imagined flipping you over, grabbing your hands with his metal one and using his other one to squeeze your breasts.

He imagined kissing down your stomach until he got to those red panties and slowly, sensually kissing down them until you were begging to feel him. Begging him to touch you.

“Say my fucking name, doll,” He moaned.

He imagined your hands wrapped around his back and he mercilessly pounded into you. He imagined your soft lips wrapped around his full length, with your bright eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him.

He cursed.

“Nice to officially meet you, James.”

Suddenly he was cumming into his fist. He continued to stroke his cock until he was spent. As he calmed down, he looked down to see the mess he’d made with your undergarments.

“Fuck.”

He was seriously doomed.

[ironstrange1991]

Defender Strange's hands headcanons

Warnings: None

Word Count: 450 words

A/N: Hey guys! I found these headcanons lost in my google docs, I think they were written while MoM was still in theaters. I just think they're too cute to leave rotting there. It's very short, but I hope you like it ;)

- After the accident Defender Strange had a long time to adapt with the new reality involving his hands. He went through the entire healing process that led him to practice the Mystic Arts and overall his experiences are not very different from our Doctor Strange.

- However, he handled the whole process more calmly and dealt with his limitations faster. It doesn't mean he accepts his hands as they are. He just learned to let it go and use magic when necessary to keep them steady.

- Defender Strange never wore gloves to hide his scars. Although he finds the scars abhorrent and considers the tremors in his hands a weakness, the idea of ​​wearing gloves never even crossed his mind.

- When he met you his relationship with his hands changed a little. He started to feel a little more bothered by the tremors when you were around. He hid the tremors with magic at first. He was ashamed of his hands when you were around.

- For him it was quite strange when he realized that you had a kind of affection for his hands. He didn't know how to deal with the fact that you were always holding or stroking them and watching the scars closely. Sometimes he disguised it by trying to distract you and pulling his hand out of yours. You knew why he did it and it made you sad.

- Over time he got used to your way of showing affection for his hands. When they hurt, and there were days when they hurt more than other days, you massaged them and as if by magic the pain went away. You used to hold them between yours, sometimes take one of them to your face, or give them kisses.

He couldn't help but find all these gestures adorable.

- He realized you had a kink in his hands. Something about their size or the way they were always warm. He didn't ask exactly, but he proceeded to use it to his advantage. In the way he touched you, or the way he held you. He also used to massage you, of course he couldn't apply pressure on the massage, but you always loved having his hands on you.

- The truth is that you helped him to really accept his hands and not feel ashamed of them. You even said it was sexy the way he used them to do magic. He wasn’t used to do it when you were around, not if he could avoid it, and definitely not more than necessary, but when he did, you liked it.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

DEFENDER STRANGE MASTERLIST

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[muddyorbsblr]

a heart like yours outtake: at her side

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @lokiprompts | View request here

Placement: Years before the events of the main story

Summary: You return from a mission in Peru having been stung by a plant that causes uncontrollable itching, and Banner's antidote has a rather feverish side effect.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: steamy moments alluding to a blue-skinned red-eyed mango ride at the end, but other than that…nothing. this is mostly fluff [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: idiots in love

If anyone dared question him why he'd chosen to situate himself close to the landing bay on this particular day and implied that it was done so that he could be one of the first to see to your return after a month-long mission with his brother in Peru, Loki would have denied it until the air depleted from his lungs. Lived up to his title of 'god of lies'.

The last thing he wanted was for you to find out that he'd been harboring any form of affection for you, and risked tearing asunder what ever semblance of a friendship you two had established in the months leading up to you leaving for your mission. There was no reason for you to know that he'd spent the last month within the mission control room, practically bounding into action whenever your voice filled the room, asking for an assist.

Or the relief that ran through his entire body when you finally sent in the update that you were en route back to the Tower.

He couldn't even bring himself to pretend to read the book he held in his hand while awaiting the arrival of your aircraft, failing to remember to acknowledge the mumbled greetings from passing SHIELD agents. All he could do was stare intently at the helipad, as if concentrating harder would somehow materialize the aircraft on the spot, and you would finally be back.

However, the god's eagerness quickly dissipated into concern once you finally did arrive, and you were curled up in fetal position in Thor's arms as he carried you into the Tower. "She fell ill," his brother explained, quite lamely, once he stepped through the doors.

"What did you do?"

"I assure you, Brother, I did nothing," he answered. "We stepped into the jet, and Lady Y/N mentioned something about being scratched by a plant and started shouting at me to have her strapped down before she scratched all her skin off."

The two Asgardians made their way to the infirmary, the older of them shouting for Dr. Banner to join them so they could find a cure.

"You're overreacting, Thunder," you muttered, holding on to both sides of the narrow stretcher, your entire mortal form tense as you fought against the itch, an alarming rash blooming all over your arms and neck. And those were only the areas visible to those in the room with you.

It took Banner quite a few moments to put together a serum that would counteract the effects of the plant that you explained was called "stinging nettle".

"Alright, this should get rid of the rashes, but I have to warn you, there is a possibility that you contract one hell of a fever after. Your body's literally fighting off poison, Y/L/N," he informed you, fighting back a chuckle when you all too enthusiastically nodded, presenting your forearm and answering him with a whispered impatient 'gimme it'. He injected the serum directly into a vein, and you had a few good moments of sheer relief, a smile playing at the sides of your mouth as the itching subsided.

But then you began to writhe again, groaning in clear discomfort as you began burning up. "Yup, there it is," you hissed. A sheen of alarming crimson bloomed across your skin, sweat starting to break out on your forehead. You made a motion to stand, pushing Loki to spring into action, ready to hold you upright if you stumbled. "This isn't my first rodeo, guys, it's fine. Plenty of fluids, bed rest, should be over in a few days. Right?"

You took a step before letting out a sharp cry of pain, clutching your head and instinctively leaning on the god to keep yourself steady. "Alright, little mortal, up you go," he said, scooping you up into his arms in an effortless, fluid motion. "No more walking until you're better."

He carried you to your apartment, gently laying you on your bed before going to wet a towel, using his Jotun powers to put it at a near freezing temperature before placing it on your forehead. You let out an exhale of pure relief from the contact, murmuring a faint 'thank you'.

"Rest, darling," he said softly, fighting back the urge to press a kiss to your forehead. You weren't his; that wasn't his place. "I shall bring you something to eat."

You were much too tired to protest, offering him merely a little nod before your breathing evened out. Once he made his way to the kitchen area, he found Romanoff there with her phone in hand, a rather inquisitive look on her face as she stared down the god.

"Banner told me Y/N's got a fever," she said, tapping away at her device. "Her comfort food of choice is fried crescent dumplings from the Chinese place down the block, and they should be arriving right about--"

"Agent Romanoff, you have a delivery at the main lobby," FRIDAY announced through the floor's PA system, making the Russian agent smile as if it was right on cue. "Shall I have it sent up?"

"Now," she told the god. "Thanks, FRIDAY. Laufeyson's gonna receive it." Before he could say anything, she posed a question for him. "Why don't you just use your magic to get rid of the fever?"

The question, simple as it was, had Loki internally stumbling to find the words. There was no logical answer for why he had chosen this course of action, especially when there was a much more expedient alternative at the tips of his fingers. He selfishly chose this to spend more time with you. Because of his affections toward you.

"There is already an excess of foreign bodies in her system, Romanoff," he said slowly. "I do not wish to add to that physical stress on her."

She merely nodded, making her way out of the kitchen, presumably to her own apartment. When she was about to pass him, however, she imparted some words that nearly stopped Loki's heart in his chest. "It's not a crime to like someone, you know. And it doesn't make you any less of a man or god, whatever you wanna call yourself, if you admit it. One more thing, ginger tea with a dash of cayenne pepper powder. She hates the stuff but it should help."

He prepared a tray to hold your food and a pot of the tea that Agent Romanoff suggested, a small smile tugging at his mouth when he saw how your nose curled up when you smelled the hot beverage. "Dammit, Nat even told you about the pepper?" There was an almost endearing whining tone in your voice, your bottom lip jutting out in a little pout; the god nearly let out a chuckle when you took a sip and your whole face scrunched up from the taste.

"I know it's rather ghastly, darling. But it will help you," he said softly, placing the back of his hand on your forehead. "You're feverish again," he grumbled, making the split second decision to shift into his Jotun form, his now much colder skin helping to cool the air around you. "Is this alright? I can change back if it's too unsettling for you--"

"It's fine, Loki," you told him, warming his heart when you gave him a tiny smile. "I actually think you look badass like that. I can tell you there's even a subset of people on the Internet that find it hot." You shut your eyes, shaking your head as if you were mentally scolding yourself. "I'm sorry I talk too much my filter goes straight out the window when I'm sick."

"You need not apologize, little mortal," he assured you. There was, however, a stray thought in the back of his mind, wondering if you were among that subset of people that found his Jotun form slightly appealing. He didn't dare voice it, though.

He sat with you in silence, relieved that he was able to help your fever become a touch more bearable and that at least you weren't perspiring as much as you were when Banner's serum first worked its way through your system. You needed some mild encouragement to get through the tea though, the god having to talk you through every other sip, some rather rude and intrusive thoughts making their presence felt in his mind.

Namely in the form of saying the phrases "That's it, little mortal" and "Just a little more, darling" to you in the very same bed, only under more pleasurable circumstances.

And the more he tried to shoo the images away, the worse they persisted.

Once you were finished, the tray disappeared off the bed in a flash of green, re-materializing on the floor by your front door. "Get some sleep, darling. When you wake you will feel substantially better, I assure you."

He conjured a book from his personal library in his hand, reading you a tale from the Vanir fables to help you fall into slumber. As your breathing began to even out, you lay a feverish hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Loki," you said softly. Weakly. "You don't have to worry, I won't tell a soul."

"Tell them what, Y/N?"

"That you're actually a nice guy. You're all tough out there and you look like you don't give a fuck about anyone, but you actually show up for your friends. I know you have a whole image to keep, your secret's safe with me."

Before he could respond, your hand went slack, a peaceful look on your face as you fell asleep. That was when he used his magic to expedite your recovery, nearly all traces of your even having a fever chased out of your system with a wave of his hand.

He shifted back into his Aesir form before placing your covers over you, leaning down to whisper to your sleeping form, "It matters not to me who knows, little mortal. So long as you do."

A few years later…

"My love, do you remember when you fell ill after your mission in Peru with my brother?" Loki asked you, blissfully holding you in his arms as you both lay in bed, tracing his fingers along the length of your spine.

"Hmmm, a little," you told him, shuffling even closer to him and resting your chin on his bare chest. "I remember the stinging nettle, and the fever…and I remember you carrying me to my apartment." Your mouth stretched into a wide smile as you recalled that particular memory. "Precursor of things to come, I guess."

"Oh yes," he said in a low sexy grumble, pulling you on top of him so you were straddling him on the bed. "I look forward to carrying you out of the throne room after the ceremony…" He pulled you in for a kiss, softly moaning into your mouth as he weaved his fingers into your hair. "Straight to my bedchambers…"

A thrill shot through you just thinking of what lay ahead for the two of you in the coming months. Nat and Wanda were ecstatic getting to plan the lavish ceremony over in Asgard, and Loki's mother Queen Frigga, your soon-to-be mother-in-law, nearly tripped over her own feet volunteering to make your gown for the wedding.

"I remember you reading to me," you continued, brushing your nose against his. "And you brought me dumplings. And that god awful tea that Nat makes me drink whenever I get sick." He let out a chuckle at that last bit, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, embracing you just a bit tighter. "Why'd you ask?"

"That was the day I realized I'd fallen in love with you," he confessed, his fingers starting to play with a lock of your hair. "Tending to your recovery, and knowing full well that had it been anyone else I would not have exerted the same effort, it made me face the startling reality that what I had begun to feel for you was not simply…lust or a surface-level affection.

"But right as you fell asleep, the words you said to me? That told me why I had fallen so deeply and thoroughly in love with you. Because you saw me; you may be perhaps the only one in my centuries alive who ever truly did."

His words had you melting, feeling the unmistakable sensation of butterflies going crazy in your stomach, as they often did any time you were with him. But his words also brought a shocking question to mind. "Hang on…Peru was years before the Sin Healer. I wasn't even seeing anybody back then, why didn't you say anything?"

We could have had so much more time together, you thought to yourself, lamenting on the months…the years that you lost.

"Back then, I couldn't comprehend that there could be a world wherein you returned my love," he explained, already moving to wipe away the tear that began to fall from your eye. "I kept quiet so that I may remain in your life, even if it had been simply as a friend."

That settled it. You two really were idiots way back when. You took a deep breath, relieved to actually be able to tell your future husband the words. "Loki, I was already in love with you back then." A brilliant smile stretched across his face hearing your confession. "I didn't ever think you'd ever even be attracted to me, so I kept my mouth shut. I was just happy you even considered me a friend."

Loki flipped you onto your back, his gaze darkening as his smile morphed into that smirk that turned you into a squirming mess of a woman. "You've always been so much more, my darling mortal." He leaned down to press his lips to the base of your throat, chuckling against your skin when your breathing hitched from his attentions. "I remember another remark you made that day…about my Jotun form. Something about others perhaps finding it appealing?"

"Ohh…" you squeaked, your face flushed as you begun to recall those specific words. "What about it?"

"I'm just…rather curious, sweetheart." Your breathing became ragged and labored watching as his stormy blue eyes turned crimson, his skin becoming an icy blue, and patterned ridges rose all over his face and body. "Are you among those people?"

A/N: I can't tell y'all how happy I am that I got to write a request that ended up with me returning to the blorbos of 'a heart like yours'. This was my first finished series so it's always gonna hold a special place in my heart 🥹

There's at least one more outtake I have in mind for this couple, but I honestly don't know when I'll get to that…we'll see where the brain takes me

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie

@superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814 @jaidenhawke

[nessieart]

The Way Back. VIII

wc: 4.2k

Summary: These powers were meant to help people. Help The Avengers, your family. It felt like every time you used them, something bad always happened. Maybe someone has the answers, somewhere.

Bucky x reader || Steve x reader (eventually??)

AN: Next part! Please reblog and leave feedback if you enjoy this story. It let's me know that you enjoy reading just as much as i enjoy writing it!

Masterlist

Previously:

"Agent Spinner," Phillips calls out, the flaps of the tent open and in steps the man from earlier. "Agent Stark, meet your new handler." He motions to the man, who holds out his hand for you. He's tall and lean, dirty blond hair sticking to his forehead and blue gray eyes. You look down at his hand, then up at his face.

His smile is tight lipped, there's a small scar through his left eyebrow and another along his cheek. The smile doesn't reach his eyes as you both size each other up. Glasses sit high on the bridge of his nose.

You put your hand in his, and a chill runs through you as his smile widens.

"When do I start?" You bite out, glaring at the man in front of you, then shifting your eyes to Phillips.

"You've got one hour. Spinner will show you the way," he all but dismisses the both of you. He gathers up the photographs and places them back in the envelope, then locks it away in a drawer in his desk.

"And, Agent," Phillips calls as you go to exit. You spare him a look over your shoulder. "Not a word to anyone. Not even that brother of yours. Dismissed."

There's a dark tent on the outskirts of the camp Spinner leads you towards. The rain has stopped, for now, your combat boots splash in the mud and puddles as you follow your new companion.

"It's just through here," he speaks for the first time, really speaks.

"You're English," your surprised tone makes him smile, and he holds the flap open of the tent for you.

"I am, no one but the Colonel knows. I usually keep to myself or hide the accent." He follows you inside. "My name's Rupert, by the way. Rupert Spinner," You just nod and look around. There's boxes piled along the sides of the tent. It's spacious for how small it appears on the outside.

"Oh," Rupert makes an excited noise. He moves toward a box and chest on the far side of the ten. He pulls out a black coverall-like uniform. It looks more form fitting than the ones you own. A pocket on the left arm sleeve, several pockets along both legs, then Spinner holds up a belt. You scoff.

"A utility belt, really?" You cross your arms over your chest.

"Oh, quite. There are several useful items in here," he begins to explain.

You portal in front of him, he startles and suppresses a yelp, the glasses on his face slipping down his nose. "Thanks, Spin, but I don't need your fancy gadgets. I'll be fine." You take the suit from his hands. The material is sturdy but light. It's pretty impressive, but you won't tell him that.

You unzip your current coveralls to put the new ones on. Spinner yelps this time and turns his back to you. You can see the red tint his ears from here.

The suit fits you like a glove, it's not uncomfortable, it's durable and breathable. "Not bad, Rue," you stretch your arms out, feeling the material move with you and contort to your movements. You felt the zipper down just enough for your scar to peak out.

Spinner turns, eyes glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes catch the blue of your scar, "Fascinating," he mumbles, turning all the way around, adjusting his glasses.

"What is it?" he asks, he leans in close, closer than you're comfortable with. You clear your throat, and a blush creeps up his cheeks again. "Apologies," he straightens back up.

You pull the zipper all the way up, "Magic," it's not technically a lie. "Now what?" He clears his throat again, adjusting his glasses. Spinner hands you a large radio.

"This is for emergencies. It's connected here," he motions to a large radio in the corner, "radio me if anything goes wrong. I'll answer, no matter what."

You're hesitant to trust this man, but there is something behind his eyes that makes you pause. "I won't need that. IF shit hits the fan, I can be out of trouble in the blink of an eye. Trust me."

"I do trust you, Ms. Charlotte," he says confidently. He pulls a folded paper from his pocket and hands it to you. "This is the location you'll be scouting. Try your best to not be seen. This is very important, leave nothing to chance." He hands you the belt next. "Please take it. For my peace of mind."

You sigh and take the belt, buckling around your waist. Spinner hands you a set of knives next and one automatic pistol. You raise an eyebrow at the gun.

"Just in case," Spinner says, and you nod. It's dark by the time you exit the tent, "You'll want to head out of camp before you do - uh- your thing," he wiggles his fingers in the air. Magic. You laugh.

"Alright, just… If Howard comes looking for me, you better have a good excuse." You turn from him and head to the forest just outside the camp. There's little light where you are now, surrounded by trees, you open the map with the coordinates you need, there's a list of things you need to watch out for and more things to avoid. You roll your eyes. This wasn't your first undercover mission. You've been on plenty with Natasha. But this feels different. You're on your own with this.

**

Future/Present 2020

"Hey, Boss," FRIDAY quietly calls out. She knows the baby is sleeping, and FRIDAY knows to lower her voice, just in case.

Tony scrubs a hand down his face, eyes squinting in the low light of his study. He feels like he hasn't slept in months. Has he ever been this tired before? Maybe, but he can't remember right now. He clears his throat, "Yeah, FRI, what is it?" He's up stretching his back. It cracks, and he lets out a satisfying groan.

"There's a package for you. Someone dropped it off a few minutes ago." Tony hums, he didn't order anything, right?

"Did Pep order something? Did I?" He's making his way to the front porch. It's quiet here, and he's really not sure he likes it yet. He feels restless.

"There's no record of any orders. I'm sorry, Boss."

There's a large box sitting on the porch. He can see its duct taped, addressed to him, but no sender or return address. The name just says STARK in someone's handwriting. The box looks like it's been in storage for 10 years. Tony brings it back inside to his study, setting it down on the desk. He cuts the tape off and opens the flaps. There's a bunch of books, journals, maybe. Folders, envelopes papers neatly stacked and old, he notices everything in the box is old and worn. Tony grabs the first thing on top. It's an old, well-used journal, it's creased and cracked with age.

Tony's eyes scan through a few pages as he carefully flips to a random page.

March 2, 1943

'43? Who's journal is this??

Today I met them. It was surreal and overwhelming. I haven't seen them since…well, Siberia.

Tony's breath hitches. He tries really hard not to think of that day.

I'm still not sure how I feel about seeing either of them. They're so young and innocent. Howie says to write down how and what I'm feeling cause he can't really understand what I'm going through, but he's trying. And I love him for it.

Steve. Where to begin? How to feel? God, what I wouldn't give to talk to Tony right now…

Tony stops and puts the book down so fast that he rips it. "What the fuck," he says aloud. "FRIDAY, where did this come from? Who dropped it off?"

It takes a few seconds for FRIDAY to answer, "It looks like it came from a Stark Industries storage facility. Though I can't tell who dropped it off, Boss." FRIDAY brings up surveillance of the front house, the driveway, and the porch. The person is very good at hiding their face and avoiding cameras they shouldn't even know about.

"I thought we took everything out of all the storage facilities…?" Tony mutters to himself. He grabs an envelope from atop the pile in the box. There's no name on it, but it's not sealed. He opens it, there's a letter inside with old frayed photographs.

Dear Tony, May 2nd, 1988

For so long, I've been dealing with a pain that no one's caused, and I took it out on you. The pain and heartache of losing my sister. It's such a terrible ache that nothing has been able to fill it. So, I drank. Probably too much.

Your mother has tried to help, God bless her, tried to tell me to remember the good times. But that was so long ago now, I don't think I can remember them.

I have these photos of her, but I can't bring myself to look at them. The friends I had because of her are gone. Except your Aunt Peg, she's still here, kicking my ass 6 days to Sunday. And not afraid to set me straight.

You'll know the loss of her, just like I did. She told me so. Maybe that's why I'm always angry. Towards you, your future… Because you get to have her, and I'll never see her again.

Tony stares long and hard at the letter. Baffled by his father's words. His father's sister? Aunt Charlotte? He doesn't know much about her, only that his father never talked about her. She had died young, and he knew that. But anything else was a mystery. And he certainly wasn't going to ask Howard Stark anything.

He tosses the letter back on his desk and picks up the photographs.

The first one is of his dad, he has his arm around a woman, she blocks her face with her hand, but Tony can tell the two of them are laughing.

The next one has Rogers in it. He's wearing his army uniform, standing next to Barnes in a matching suit. His Aunt Peg is there too, standing next to the same woman from the first, but her back is to the camera.

The next photo, he all but screams, drops the whole lot of them on the floor.

"FRIDAY, lights," he says breathlessly. The lights are all the way on now, and he can see her clearly from here. He stoops down to pick the photos up, fingers shaking slightly as he gets a closer look.

It can't be.

It's you. But how? It can't be you.

"FRIDAY, facial recognition," Tony holds the picture up, a blue light skates across the image. FRIDAY projects it on the hologram in front of him. It spins slowly.

Rogers is on your right, Barnes is on your left, and you stand in the middle. Sleek dark coveralls with a shooting star emblem on your right arm that streaks out from the center of your chest. Your arms are through Steve's and Bucky's, a big grin on your face as they smile down at you.

"Captain Rogers, Y/N, and Sergeant Barnes, Boss."

"Pull up a photo of Y/N from a few years ago," Tony instructs. "Put them side by side."

Your old SHIELD ID photo comes up, and Tony laughs wetly. He knows how much you hated that picture. The images are aligned now. And there's no mistaking it. You're you, but.. also his Aunt Charlotte.

Tony runs his hands down his face and grimaces at the box, then your pictures. He really doesn't want to do this. He inhales a deep breath before he changes his mind, then exhales all the way out.

Tony plops down in his char and hands his head, "FRI, call Rogers."

**

Past/Present 1943

There's an unnatural fog settling in. It was well into the night now, but you stayed, waited. For something other than heavy patrols to cross back and forth in your line of sight. The monocular you pull out of one of the belt pockets is small and compact. You had to give it to Spinner. His gadgets did come in handy.

There's a loud BOOM over head. The anti air mortar fire almost made you jump out of your skin. You flip onto your back, one eye seeking up into the sky to see who they were aiming at, but it's too dark. And this fog is too thick.

The firing eventually stops, the high alert siren fading back into nothing, and the patrols resume. You wait for the right moment to make your move. There's a convoy of military trucks making their way to base. Maybe now's your change. You can see the unmistakable blue glow of their weapons from here.

Yous stash away your gear and slink down the hillside you were on. You need a clear line of sight to see where you're going here. Don't want to portal in front of some Hydra goons.

You take a deep breath, wait a beat and port on the other side of a parked truck. The coast is clear, and you rush indie, silently closing the door behind you. You can feel the thrum of the Tesseract. It might not be here, but the power of it is.

The room you enter is large. You can see about 50 to 100 men in large cages. "What the hell," you mutter. Above is a grated catwalk, a few armed men patrol lazily across.

You slink along the outskirts of the room, keeping an eye on the men above and near you. The majority of the men are sleeping or too exhausted to even notice. The few in the center of the room are muttering among themselves.

You shrink closer, tiptoeing your way along the cages. One of the men catches your eye, and you inhale sharply, rushing forward and gripping the bars as he shuffles and covers your hands with his.

"Dugan?! What the hell are you doin' here?" You hiss. You look around the men in the cage, the surrounding ones as well. He can't be here. Where is he?

"Charlie, wha - I can ask you the same thing, doll. How did you get here?"

"What are you wearin'?" Another man asks, you pay him no mind.

"I'm here to get you out," you decide. You can't leave these men here. You look around now. Most of the men in the cages are looking at you, and you can't reveal your powers to all these people. You don't know what they'd do or how they'd react.

"Let me find the keys," you go to release the bars, but Dugan's hands hold yours tightly.

"He's here," he says, leaning closer. "Sarge is somewhere here. They took him in the back a few days ago and we haven't seen him since." His face is grim and shadowed.

You gulp and nod. Before you can get too far, there's a loud thud above you all. You jump and look up, startled.

"Steve?" "Charlie?"

You look away, around the men who look hopeful and frightened. Steve jumps down after taking out the guards. He has the keys in his hand as he comes to a stop next to you. There's determination in his stare as he opens the first lock.

"What are you doing here?" "Howard was out of his mind - me? What are you doing here?"

You both talk over each other.

"And who the hell are you supposed to be?"

"I'm - Captain America," he says. Each cell opens, and the men pour out around you.

"Is there anybody else?" Steve asks, stepping through the men to stand beside you, tall and imposing. "I'm looking for a Sergeant James Barnes."

You and Dugan share a look, and you nod.

You can feel the thrum again, stronger now, it pulses with your heartbeat. It's stronger as Steve brushes against you to lead the men and tell them to run for the trees. He's about to turn away when you grip his wrist. With more strength than he's ever felt in his new body.

"I'm going with you, Cap," and maybe it's the fire in your eyes or that faint blue glow on your chest that he seems to be the only one who notices.

"Charlie -" he hesitates. "If something happened to you, Howard would never forgive me."

You glare at him, "Howard knows I can take care of myself. I'm going with you."

It's Steve's turn to grip your wrist. The other men have stormed out, and the only one lingering is Dum Dum. He's at the edge of the room, guarding the door and waiting. Watching.

"I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you," Steve says softly. His fingers brush your cheek lightly.

"But, Cap -" You go to protest, but the look in his eyes stops you, and the fingers on your chin. "Damnit," you curse under your breath. "Bring him back, you hear me?"

Steve's shoulders relax, his thumb digs into your chin, and then he's letting you go. He nods, takes a step back from you, and turns to jog away.

Dugan clears his throat, an eyebrow raised when you look at him.

"Shut up, Dugan," you brush past him and he follows.

You both follow the sound of gunfire and yelling as you exit the facility. It's chaos. It's thrilling, every man taking revenge on the goons for what they've been forced to do.

You hear Dugan grunt a laugh next to you, and you both join in on taking the remainder of the guards out.

"Get these guys to the tree line," you tell Dugan. Your fist glows a slight blue as you punch a Nazi in the stomach. He goes flying several feet from you. When Dugan doesn't move from your back, you turn to him. "Tim!" He looks down at you over his shoulder. There's a wild look in his eyes.

"I'll be right behind you, go!" Dugan nods finally, shouting for the other to head toward the trees.

You want to go back for Steve, help him find Bucky, but you know what you came here for and what you have to do.

You find the office with ease, you take out Spinners' notes, and look for what you need to grab. After shuffling through the second cabinet, you find schematics for guns, grenades, and other heavy machinery. There's also drawings of a sort of robot on the desk. You push it to the side and grab more drawings.

There's an explosion that rocks the foundation. The fire light ignites the sky outside. With a deep inhale, you portal away. You need to get these files to safety first. Then you'd be back. For Steve and Bucky, and the prisoners.

The tent is dark, except for a small lantern, Sp[inner sits by the radio, writing in a notebook.

"Hello, Rupert," he squawks in surprise, nearly jumping out of his chair.

"Bloody Hell, Charlotte! I think you gave me a heart attack…"

You chuckle, slapping the folder with everything he requested on the desk in front of him.

"Y-you did it?" His features light up, "I- that's incredible! You're amazing, Charlotte, truly."

"Don't mention it. I've got to get back," He gives you a questioning look. "The missing troops, I found them. Schmidt had them working hard labor building something. Something big. I wasn't able to find the notes, but I'll keep an eye out." You nod at the folder, Spinner gives you a grateful smile, at a loss for words.

"We'll be back in a few days. Try and keep Phillips under control 'til then," you smirk at him. You're gone in the next second.

You appear a few dozen yards away from where you last saw Dugan. The Hydra base is up in flames now, smoke billowing high into the clouds. With one last look, you're running towards the treeline.

Dugan is waiting by the treeline, posted up on a big pine tree with his arms crossed over his chest. His bowler cap is lowered over his forehead. He looks almost peaceful, if it wasn't for how taught his shoulders were.

"Tim?" You hedge closer. He grunts and points a thumb further into the trees, where you assume the rest of the prisoners are.

"Y'know, it's funny," he says, a finger lifting his hat back into place. His bright blue eyes stare down at you, and one side of his mouth ticks up. But he doesn't look amused. "Most people look at me and assume I'm just big and dumb, being the son of Irish immigrants and all. Or maybe 'cause I was in the circus, makes me some simple-minded fool." He stares hard at you then, eyes piercing you to the spot. You swallow hard.

"Now, dollface, don't ya go underestimatin' Ol' Dum Dum, got it?" You nod.

You unzip the top of your suit, the blue glow of your scar illuminating the space between you. "There was an accident. For some reason, I survived," You zip back up, then your hands begin to glow. "Maybe I was given these powers for a reason. So I've been helping people as best I can. In any way I can." You look up at Dugan as your powers fade. You take a deep breath.

"If I can use the things I can do, to stop this war, end Hydra, the Nazis, all of it. Well, I'm damn sure gonna try."

There's a fire in your eyes, it's tinged blue, you clench your fists as you stare up at Dugan. He gives a huff of a laugh, then nods once, "Alright, kid, alright." He puts a large hand on your shoulder and leads you into the trees where everyone else is waiting.

"Only a few people know about this," you cover your chest with your hand. "My brother is one of them. Cap doesn't know, and Bucky doesn't know. They can't."

Dugan nods again, his lips a thing line, and he runs his thumb and pointer finger across them.

It's close to an hour after you've seen Steve that you hear approaching footfalls through the trees. You step closer to the sound, putting yourself between the men and whoever is coming. Dugan's behind you with the pistol you gave him.

Steve is the first one to come into view. You visibly relax. Steve's leather jacket is almost torn to shreds. He's dirty, covered in soot and sweat. The branches pull back as he steps to the side as Bucky stumbles and limps into view.

Bucky is also soot and sweat covered. He looks worse for wear. His face is bruised on one side, dark circles under his eyes. Bucky looks a little thinner than the last time you saw him. He's hunched in on himself, and Steve steps around him. Bucky's eyes shift around the small clearing. He seems so on edge, you're afraid to make your presence known.

Dugan laughs heartily, putting a hand on your shoulder, "Well, I'll be Goddamned!"

"It's about damn time! I'm freezing my ass off out here," a man speaks up. You heard in passing others call him Morita. "Can we get the hell out of here now?" Morita pushes past everyone to head back towards the road. A lot of the men grumble in agreement and follow after him.

You make eye contact with Steve, and you both share a smile. He nudges Bucky, who almost jumps out of his skin at the contact. He follows Steve's eyes to see you standing there.

His eyes are glassy as he pushes his way toward you.

"I'll see you on the road, kid," Dugan says as he follows the rest of the men up the path and out of the trees.

You blink, and Bucky is engulfing you in a bone crushing hug. He buries his face in your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your frame. You return his hug, smiling into his shoulder.

"Is it really you?" He mumbles into your skin. His hold on you tightens. Like you might disappear if he lets go.

"It's really me, James," you sigh. You look at Steve over Bucky's shoulder. He looks like a lost puppy. Brows pulling up and lips in a pout. He makes eye contact with you for a beat, then drops it.

"We should get going," Steve says quietly. He clears his throat. "it's a long way back."

Bucky straightens, hands cradling your neck, as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. You can see an abrasion on his cheek, below his left eye, dark circles. There's stubble across his face. The green sweater he wears is tattered and ripped. His dog tags hang low against his chest.

Bucky looks more worn out and dazed than the others.

"What'd they do to you, Jamie?" You mumble. Your thumb runs under the cut on his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut. A tear slipped out of his eye as he inhales sharply. He presses his forehead to yours as he exhales a shaky breath.

"It doesn't matter now," he says. His fingers tighten around your face, and he leans in to place his lips over yours. Maybe just to feel you, or for him to make sure he's really here, you can't be sure. But you let him. If he needs you to ground him, you'll happily agree. Bucky straightens after a moment, grabs your hand, and leads you back towards the road. Steve shuffles behind you both.

**

3 days later and the camp finally comes into view. You haven't checked in with Spinner since the recon mission, but he's standing behind Colonel Phillips when you all arrive. You squeeze Bucky's hand before you make your way over.

Before you get too far, Howard pushes through the growing crowd of people. His eyes are frantic, and it looks like he hasn't slept in days. "Oh, thank God, Charlie!" He runs to you, and you meet him halfway. Howard scoops you up into his arms and crushes you with a hug. "You scared me half to death, kid." He puts you down and looks down at you, eyes bleary, sunken, and tired. "I was out of my mind with worry. Do you know what that does to a person? More importantly, to me?"

"I'm sorry, Howie," is all you say. You can see Spinner over Howard's shoulder. He gives you a nod. You hope he understands you can't keep a secret from Howard for too long. "You know how I get," you say instead.

Howard grunts and pulls you into another hug. "Just don't leave me like that again, OK?" You just nod into his shoulder.

**

[thegreatestofgames]

Welp, guess I'm playing show and tell. Not so much a first line as a first section from the latest chapter I'm working on for Once and Future Avenger

“You’re all learning how to dance.” Morgan stared at Tony like he’d grown a second head. “Excuse me?” “Gotta have a ball to go with your coronation,” Tony explained. “Which means you lot are going to have to learn ballroom dance. Or at least learn how to fake it.”  “All of us?” Pietro asked. “All of you,” Tony reiterated. “Any other questions?” Clint raised his hand. “Yeah, I got one. Uh, why?”  “Because Her Majesty will be dancing with each of the Avengers,” Pepper informed them, sounding all too pleased with the idea. “Consider it a security precaution. A dance is a protracted period of time in which her attention is occupied by a singular person. There’s enough of you to keep her occupied for the majority of the ball, as opposed to leaving her alone with a politician for three to five minutes, depending on the length of the song.” They sat silently for a long moment, letting the idea sink in. Finally, Morgan shifted in her spot in the corner of the couch, her eyes landing on the majority of those assembled as they stood behind her like she’d protect them from Tony’s crazy. “You guys are fucking learning how to dance.” 

Not aware of anyone actively working on a wip right now, so I'll say if you wanna, have at it :P

Thank you so much for @kierarhawke for tagging me in this!!

The rules are as follows: post the first line of your wip, the first line you worked on today, or any other “first line!”

For this I decided to post the first paragraph of a Locked Tomb WIP im working on with the lovely @d0c-help-us-all !!

The spit and crackle of the amp reverberated through Gideon, grounding her in place. She angled her Gibson so that the pickups were in the direct path of the sound, and the response was instant. A high beading building hum of discordant noise, a thrumming current of feedback which was hers alone to control. She flexed the neck of her guitar, bending the mahogany wood back while keeping one hand on the body to steady it. The feedback responded in kind, its pitch rising and falling in turn, layering upon itself to blanket the room in a wall of sound.

Tysm again for tagging me!! I'm going to tag @d0c-help-us-all , @eviebebeevie , @aprillikesthings , and @cynnamonfomx !! Absolutely no pressure at all to do it!!!

[itsmrvlxh50]

I love how we say "PROTECT THIS CHARACTER AT ALL COSTS" and then we go and hurt them like they have never been hurt before

[fungateshortcakes]

Jealous much?

Pairing: dofp!Logan x fem!teacher!Reader

Summary: What happens when Logan finds the father of one of your students flirting with you after class?

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: Jealous!Logan, established relationship (you are married), flirting, Logan asserting dominance to the guy that thinks he has a chance with you, smitten Logan bc he loves u so much, reader is implied to be 'turned on' once, no use of (y/n), english is not my first language!

_________________

I love love LOVE jealous Logan. Someone (I think it was by @pandapetals) made a fic where Logan and reader were married and a students mother was flirting with Logan, which pissed reader off and she has to show the lady who has that man wrapped around her finger already. That was so YUMMY so this is the Logan-being-jealous counterpart, hope you enjoy!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The end of the school day brought with it a familiar sense of relief and exhaustion. You loved your job, but after spending hours with a classroom full of high-energy students, you were ready to pack up and head to your room in the mansion.

The thought of your shared room and of your husband Logan waiting there brought a small smile to your face. But as you were tidying up your desk, the last few students leaving your classroom, you heard a voice call your name. Your head wiped around as you heard it. “Excuse me, Miss!” At first, you thought it was one of your students, but their voice was too deep to be a teenage boy.

You turned to see Mr. Reed, a tall, polished man with a charming smile. You recognized him immediately. He was the father of one of your more rambunctious students, Jason Reed. He seemed to live in this school, it was weird just how often you saw him around. He attended every single one of the parent evenings you hosted - only yours. And he often sought you out to have a conversation with him and his son. You didn't think too much of it, it was your job after all to answer the parents questions if they had any concerns.

You gave him a friendly wave as he approached. “Oh, hey, Mr. Reed” you greeted warmly, pausing in your steps. "Is there something you needed?

The man gave a casual shrug, slipping his hands into the pockets of his well-tailored suitjacket. “I was hoping to catch you for a moment. My son just won’t stop talking about you. Miss "the-coolest-teacher-ever’” he added with a chuckle, his blue eyes holding a distinct shimmer in them.

You laughed softly. Hearing this went down like honey. You were always happy to know that your students were enjoying your class. You were the teacher you wanted to be since you were a student yourself. The teacher that made other students feel safe, that didn't make them feel like they were pressured and had to deliver a certain level of performance to be good enough "Well, Jason is a great kid. He’s got so much energy. I can barely keep up sometimes, but I’m glad to hear he is liking my classes this far."

“Oh, absolutely. You’ve really made a difference for him” Mr. Reed said, his voice dipping into something smoother, something deeper. “He’s had a hard time adjusting to his mutation, you know. And the abilities that come with it. But since he’s been in your class, I can tell he’s a lot happier. More confident" he praised you highly, teeth bared in a dashing smile to you. “And that’s all thanks to you. I don’t know how you do it, managing a class full of kids with various mutations and powers they can't quite control yet. It’s impressive.”

You waved your hand dissmisvely at the single father, giggling bashfully. You weren't used to such direct praise from parents, not even from him. “I'm flattered, but it’s not just me" you replied modestly. “Mr. Xavier has build a great support system over the years.”

Mr. Reed clicked his tounge at your humble answer. “Don’t sell yourself short” he flashed you another grin. “You clearly have a talent with kids. Jason has made more progress in the past few months than he ever has before. I’m not sure how I could ever thank you properly.”

His tone was friendly for the time being. The conversation continued. And at first it felt completely professional, how it should be. Mr. Reed asked about Jason’s curriculum, your teaching methods and even about the schools approach to managing the students unique abilities. You were more than happy to answer all his questions, oblivious to the way he started inching closer.

“It’s just refreshing” he said, leaning casually against the wall next to you, his eyes subtly roaming your figure “to meet someone as smart, kind and beautiful as you. Jason’s lucky to have you as his teacher. The whole class is.”

The realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t just being nice. He was flirting. You blinked, your polite smile faltering. “Oh, um, thank you” you replied, starting to feel a little awkward. It showed with the way you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. A sign for him that you were all shy and bashful around him. Far from that. You felt really uncomfortable.

"I’m lucky, too, really” he added, fueling the bad feeling in your gut. His eyes sweeped over you, this time less subtle, in a way that made your skin prickle, but not the good kind.

Then he decided to just go for it and ask the big question. He was impatient and wasn't in the mood to wait until you initiated something first. He had waited long enough. “Do you ever take time for yourself? Maybe let someone take you out for dinner?”

Your composure completely faltered for a second. The nerve this guy had. Didn't he see the obvious gold ring on your finger or did he purposefully decided to ignore it? You opened your mouth, trying to come up with a diplomatic way to shut this down, but you didn’t get the chance to.

“Everything alright in here?”

Logan’s gruff voice cut through the hallway like a blade, low and unmistakably annoyed. You turned to see him striding toward you, eyeing Mr. Reed like a wild animal stalking its prey. His broad shoulders were squared, his jaw set, and his dark eyes locked onto the other man with visible irritation.

You jumped as if you had just been caught cheating. “Logan” you squeaked surprised.

He huffed through his nose, his nostrils flaring like the ones of an angry bull that was riled up by the red in its vision. Well, when he had this loser of a man flirt with a goddess like you, his goddess, then he saw red. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt” Logan nearly growled, his tone anything but apologetic as he stopped next to you.

Mr. Reed blinked, clearly caught off guard. He swallowed thickly “Oh, I was just-” he tried to save the situation, or rather his own life, but Logan cut him off. “Flirtin’ with my wife?” Logan asked, arching a brow.

Mr. Reed’s face went pale as the snow falling outside the mansion, coating the gardenwith a thin layer of white. His eyes searched for your hand. They went wide as he looked at the wedding band you had been proudly wearing for six years now as if it had just appeared. “You-wait, you’re married?”

“Sure am” Logan said, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you firmly against his side, securing you there. Marking his territory. His grip was warm and possessive and you could feel the tension radiating from him.

Mr. Reed stammered, his eyes darting between you and Logan in embarrassement and if you looked correctly, a little bit of fear. “I-I had no idea. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” he stuttered out, laughing awkwardly in a bad attempt to play down his nervousness.

“Yeah, well, now you know,” Logan said flatly. “So maybe next time, think twice before you try to fuck someones woman" he spat, taking a step closer to Mr. Reed. You gasped softly at Logans word and placed a hand on his chest, giving him a warning look. “Logan” you muttered softly, trying to rein him in like a guard dog that was ready to pounce if its owner let him. You couldn't say that this side of him didn't turn you on immensly. But you didn’t need to get scolded by Charles for scaring off a parent.

But Logan wasn’t done. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “And just so we’re clear, she’s not interested. Ever” He snarled, down right barked his last word into Reeds face, who then mumbled another apology before practically fleeing down the hallway, leaving you alone with Logan.

Once he was gone, you turned to your husband with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “and that was really necessary?" you chuckled with a proud smirk. “Damn right it was” Logan replied, his hand still possessively gripping your hips, smoothing over them. “Guy needed to know who he was dealin’ with.”

You sighed, but your lips twitched into a small smile as you leaned against your broad and strong teddy bear of a husband. “You know I can handle myself, right?”

Logans lips pulled into the slightest smile as he looked down at you as if you were the most precious thing in the whole universe. “Yeah, I know” Logan muttered, his tone softening as he admired your pretty face. That pretty face he had the privilege to wake up to every morning because you were his wife. His. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let some jackass hit on you though.”

You giggled, shaking your head fondly, reaching up to cup his gruff cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

Logan shrugged “Maybe” he said, smirking. “But you like ridiculous. Wouldn’t have married me otherwise, missy" he rumbled deep in his chest, making you smile because it was the truth. You married him for it. Married him for everything he was. “Guilty as charged" you murmured with a smile, standing on your toes to kiss him softly.

Logan’s arms wrapped around you fully, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. By the time he pulled away, his loving smirk had returned, but his eyes were filled with something softer. Something only you got to see. Something that you wanted to see for the rest of your life just from him.

“Still don’t like sharin’,” he muttered. You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “You don’t have to.”

And as Logan laced his fingers with yours, leading you towards the mansions garden to take a relaxing stroll through the green and white landscape after this unpleasant encounter, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the man who’d fight the world to keep you by his side.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

And weirdly enough, you never saw Mr. Reed after that, not even at the parent evenings. I wonder why...

If you liked this- like, comments and reblog! It helps a lot🎀

[darealsaltysam]

hey tumblr. you should read my xmen fic. the second chapter just came out. this image tells you all you need to know about the plot. thanks <3

[buckyalpine]

I love Bucky loving his body. I love Bucky loved by the team. I love Bucky having his happy ending with a family. Imagine Bucky lounging around the sofa with his little baby girl tucked in his arm, her sweet face covered in frosting after smothering half of her cupcake onto her cheeks. The icing is bright red just like Tony's suit and it's his birthday party afterall, so everything is in full swing. Most of the cupcake is squished between her fingers, very little actually making it into her mouth but Bucky doesn't mind. He chuckles, watching her with heart eyes as she happily smears it onto his crisp white shirt, babbling and cooing, now sucking her thumb.

He is absolutely unbothered by this, all he sees is his happy little baby with her cheeky smile licking up all the frosting just like her mama. While Bucky couldn't care less about his shirt, a few others certainly did.

"Better get dunk that shirt into a bucket of tide pens Barnes" Clint snorted.

"Actually the quicker you get it off, the less likely it is to stain. Take it off now" Tony's voice went from fatherly advice to a seductive growl making Bucky's face twist in amusement, pink starting to color his cheeks.

"Yeah, give the little munchkin to y/n and take it off. Cause of the stain" Nat agreed, cocking an eyebrow. You giggled watching the scene unfold before you, your husband growing bashfully shy.

"Can't hurt punk" Steve shrugged and Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head until he realized his best friend had been nursing a rather large glass of Asgardian mead. Tipsy Steve was always a little bit of a pervert...

"I-

"For the stain"

"I think you just want me to take my shirt off" Bucky huffed while you grinned, giving his cheek a peck before taking your little princess in your arms.

"Can't blame them handsome, c'mon, show em' how lucky I am" you whisper and that sells it. Couldn't hurt and since they were all asking...

"Just take it off!" Nat howled with a wink, a bunch of whistles when Bucky sighed, indulging the team a little. He unbuttons his shirt and hands it off to a genuinely concerned Sam who would normally make sure the shirt got sent to the cleaners but this is too good so he throws it into a bucket of cold water and is back within seconds.

"Good God"

"Jesus"

"You look fuckin' good terminator"

"Alright, alright" Bucky holds his hands up, unable to stop the way his ears are bright red, shaking his head when you blow him a kiss making him blush more.

"Body shots!"

"What?"

"Yes"

Tony's eyes glimmer with excitement, and Bucky snorts, loving the way you egg him on, his daughter also squealing with excitement.

"Go on Sarge, y'know you look good"

He lies down on the bar table, surrounded by just the team, abs beautifully flexed as Nat pours a generous amount of some type of alcohol right on his belly button.

"When else will we get this lucky" She says with a playful smirk while Steve cracks his knuckles.

"Why are you cracking your knuckles, what the hell do you plan on-

"ME FIRST" He doesn't give anyone a chance, face planting himself into Bucky's tummy, his lips sealed, drinking every bit of the burning liquor with a satisfied hum.

"How much has he had to drink"

"Who cares, me next"

"I think you've licked enough of my husband"

"You get him all the time, don't be greedy"

"That cute little chubby ball of frosting and giggles is enough evidence you get him every which way, besides isn't there another one cooking, y'can't have any now git"

"Blink twice if you need help"

"Bro looks like an angel"

"Why aren't you blinking"

"Crafted by the heavens"

"You like this, don't you"

Bucky can't help but chuckle, surrounded by idiots. Drunk idiots. His wife. His baby girl. Another little one on the way. All who love him. Would protect him. Life was good.

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x reader x wade wilson

rating: E, minors dni, 18+ (mmf threesome; resolved sexual tension; sex pollen; unprotected p in v sex; oral [f receiving]; double penetration)

words: 6.7k

summary: you, logan and wade are on a stakeout after reports of a new drug which only affects mutants. but what happens when you accidentally get a hit of it yourselves…? (the sex pollen fic from the poll! thank you @eupheme for betaing for me, i owe you my life!)

“I spy with my little eye…”

“Wade, I swear to god…” Logan’s voice is a low rumble, a warning.

“Awww c’mon, peanut! What else do we have to do? Indulge me in my childlike whimsy.”

“Let me guess,” you say, shelling a pistachio before throwing it in the air to catch it on your waiting tongue, “you spy something beginning with R-D, which is the rising damp, which is the fourth goddamn time you spied it because there’s nothing else in this fucking place.”

Wade huffs and throws himself back in his chair. 

“Killjoy,” he mutters, and goes back to carving obscene doodles into the side table with baby knife. 

On the first day you were happy to play along, just to ease the boredom and tension which came hand-in-hand with this arrangement. Now it’s been five of them, stacking on top of each other and getting claustrophobic-heavy, the three of you crowded into each other’s space and on the razor’s edge.

Something is going to break, and you’re worried it’ll be Wade’s nose under Logan’s fist.

What a stupid fucking mission. You should never have said yes.

Ever since the whole Void situation was resolved you, Logan and Wade have been X-Men adjacent. Not part of the group exactly but happy to play along if needed. This most recent assignment had been a request from Piotr - there was something going on downtown to do with trafficking drugs which affected mutants, and someone needed to keep an eye on it. Couldn’t be anyone from the mansion, they’re all hands on deck at the moment keeping an influx of kids in check. But the three of you? With no jobs between you and an urge to do good?

It was a problem with an obvious solution.

It’s a stakeout. Which means sitting and waiting and holy fuck is it boring. 

You can tell something is going on in the alley across the street but you’ve had strict instructions not to take action until you see the guy in charge: thickset man with a penchant for misdeeds and built like a brick shithouse. Once you have proof he’s involved, you’ll get the go-ahead to close in and shut the place down in whatever manner you see fit.

But until he comes in, your little trio has no choice but to stay put, watching petty criminals come and go with no idea they’re being monitored.

Life has revolved around watches from the dingy window. Usually two of you will stay up while one of you tries to get some sleep on one of the uncomfortable twin beds that have been provided, but it isn’t easy to drift off when it feels like the mattresses are made of cinder blocks stuffed with broken glass. It isn’t that you’re unused to being in each others’ spaces - if you’re not at their apartment they’re at yours, after all, you are friends - but this is different. You have the luxury of walking away from each other in normal day-to-day life when things gets too much. Here? Here, you’re stuck until you’re done with the job. You’re all tired, irritated, and desperate for entertainment. You’ve even considered chopping off your own hand to watch it grow back, just for something to do.

And the thing is that’s not the worst of it. Ever since the three of you returned from the Void there’s been something there. Something difficult to pin down, exactly.  A niggling little feeling worming its way through your body. Something which thrums every time Wade flexes the muscles in his hand and you see his long, strong fingers; every time Logan grits his jaw and the tendons in his neck throb. 

Oh, right. You sort of really want to fuck them both.

You don’t go through something that traumatic and not have deep-rooted feelings which surpass normal boundaries. You fought for each others’ lives. You’re bonded in a way people rarely are. And the more time you spend with them the blurrier the lines between platonic and fucking soulmate become. You’ve seen both of them stare at you - and each other - when they think you’re not looking, so you’re sure this isn’t something that only you are harbouring. It’s a secret desire harboured by all three of you.

Like you said, something is gonna break. And in this shitty little surveillance room? It’s gonna break soon.

A movement outside. The three of you sit forward to take a look at the evening’s street view, only to fall back into your chairs as it turns out to be a false alarm. Just a pedestrian walking by. You’re going to go insane.

You drum your fingers on your thighs just to keep them busy, then turn to Logan. 

“You got a smoke?”

He cocks a brow at you.

“You want a cigar?”

“Nothing else to fucking do.”

“Whoa, hey!” says Wade, putting his hand on Logan’s arm as he roots around in his jacket pocket, “No no no, you quit last year! Don’t start up bad habits again unless I’m the one convincing you to, pookie.”

“Wade, c’mon. I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t have something to do,” you groan. Plus, really, you’d kinda like something to suck on, just to relieve some of the ache in your belly.

As if Wade can hear your thoughts he pipes up again.

“Well if you’re that desperate to use your mouth, I know what we could play to pass the time…”

You and Logan groan in unison, and he balls his fist in a way which suggests it’s not long until the claws come out. Wade holds up his hands to signify peace.

“Whoa, chill out, honeybadger. No need to get scratchy. You don’t have to join in if you don’t want to… but it’s more fun the more people there are.”

Accepting there’s nothing else to pass the time, Logan lets out a long, exhausted sigh and lets Wade continue.

The mercenary licks his lips as if, for once, considering his phrasing. Then blurts out what he wanted to say anyway.

“We could play blowjob roulette.”

It was a foolish time to take a drink of your soda, because you spurt it out your nose. After a moment of mopping yourself up with your sleeve you manage a, “what?!”

“Well, oral roulette I guess, if we’re being PC about it.”

“Oh my god,” Logan groans, getting to his feet and stomping into the tiny excuse for a kitchenette, grabbing a beer and opening it with such gusto that the cap bounces off an adjacent wall.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything! We just spin the bottle and whoever it ends up pointing out deals out a round of Australian kisses for the other players. Relieves the boredom, and it’s fun to see how long everyone lasts.”

Your mouth is open, you’re sure of it. You’re looking at Wade in abject horror. This has got to just be part of his stupid bravado, right? Making an ill-timed joke?

Because the other option is he’s serious.

Logan drinks. You stare. Wade rabbits on.

“I’m just saying we used to play it at Sister Margaret’s all the time, when we were waiting for new marks to come in and didn’t have anything better to do! It wasn’t gay or anything except for, you know, the rampant homoeroticism of slurping everyone’s gherkin.”

“Did you… did you ever have to do it?” you ask, morbid fascination taking over. He scoffs.

“Did I ever have to… pookie, I’ve taken more loads than my building’s washing machine. Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty fucking great at it.”

He’s staring at you with an intensity which makes you feel like you’re on fire, but from embarrassment or enthusiasm you’re not sure. 

“So?” he asks, quietly, putting a hand on your knee. Your body burns. You swallow. You look to Logan. 

He sighs. Finishes his beer, but in a way which suggests he’s giving in. You see the way Logan’s teeth touch his bottom lip. The start of a fricative. 

He’s going to say fine.

Movement out of the window. You bolt up, knocking Wade’s hand away. He deflates.

“Aww. But I really wanted to - ”

“No, guys - look!”

They quickly crowd you, following where you point. A huge man walks into the alleyway, flanked by underlings, the bulk of him taking up the small space.

“There’s our guy,” you say, “let’s go.”

You descend upon the alleyway in a flash of swords and claws. You tug your cowl up over your nose to protect your face, hand on one of your Brügger & Thomet MP9s as the three of you come face-to-face with the door you’ve been monitoring all week.

“So are we going in sneaky style, or—”

Logan rips the door off its hinges, throwing it down the length of the alley; he is desperate to be done with this. You exchange a look with Wade.

“Okiedokie, asked and answered I guess,” he sighs, grabbing his Desert Eagles from his holsters.

You both follow Logan who’s thrown himself into the middle of the lab claws-first. Two-thirds of the people scream and flee, the others stand their guard and grab their guns.

Fingers on triggers, you take a beat to examine the situation.

Equipment everywhere. Beakers and cylinders you can possibly guess the use for, set up on desks and synthesising something nasty. The boss is standing in the middle of the room, eyebrow cocked and mild annoyance plastered on his face. Bingo. You make a beeline for him, taking a couple of bullets in your flank as you go.

“Cover me!” you shout to Wade. He pulls his katana out of a guy’s head and throws you a bloodied thumbs-up.

“Got your back, pookie! Hate to see you leave, love to watch you spill entrails as you go!”

As if he was predicting your next action, you whip your knife out of your belt and stab it in an assailant’s belly, watching his warm guts slide onto the floor. He releases a strangled noise as he drops to his knees - you make a move to continue on your way to the boss only to feel someone pick you up.

“Shit!” you mutter as you’re hoisted into the air. Wade and Logan stop their onslaught to turn at the sound of your panic, their eyes both going wide as they see you restrained. With a twinned shout of your name they come running to help.

Aww, your boys. It’d be cute if you weren’t bracing yourself for the pain.

Your attacker launches you across the room. A couple of seconds go by as you fly through the air - and then into a table full of test tubes and pipettes.

A great cloud rises into the air. A cloud of spores?

Before you can get a chance to properly read the situation, Wade and Logan are at your side. Sturdy hands grasp around your forearms and you’re dragged to your feet. 

Of course, it goes unnoticed…but all three of you take in a deep breath.

“You okay, baby?” rasps Logan. 

“Yeah, I’m f— move!” you scream, shouldering him out of the way so you can sink your knife into the neck of the man about to spray bullets down his spine. As you rip through the soft skin at his throat something occurs to you. 

‘Baby’? Where did that come from?

Not that it isn’t nice, obviously, but… it’s unlike Logan to show that much tenderness ever. Especially with pet names.

Oh well, no time to dwell.

Picking bits of glass from your biceps you tank a punch from a man closing in on your left, parry his next couple of blows, then shoot him in the dick. Wade has called this a ‘low blow’ before which isn’t incorrect but honestly, there’s no time for fighting fair when it’s 3-versus-30. 

The boss has finally gotten involved. A pair of brass knuckles shines against his fist as he swings at Logan, a meaty crack filling the air in a way which you’re worried might actually have dented one of your friend’s ribs. Wade uses the distraction to stab a katana into the guy’s back, then another one a little further up - using him like a goddamn climbing wall. The boss roars like an animal and attempts to swat him off but there’s no use. His massive bulk is working against him, and Wade can be a fast little motherfucker when he wants to be.

Wade lets out a ‘peekaboo!’ as he pops up over the boss’s shoulder, pressing his pistol into the meat of his neck and firing. Blood sprays across the floor but somehow the guy doesn’t stop, not even when Logan picks himself back up and sinks both his claws into his stomach; it only elicits another snarl.

Okay, time to close.

You sheath your guns and go back to your knife, using Logan as a launchpad as you throw yourself off the arch of his back and into the air - stabbing down into the boss’s skull with a dull thunk.

A line of blood dribbles out of his mouth. He starts to fall.

“Uh oh - call me Ke$ha, because I’m yelling timber!” Wade warns. With a snarl Logan rips his claws free from muscle, snatching you off of the boss’s corpse as he stumbles forward under his own weight. Pulling you free you both lose your footing, and you crash down onto your friend.

You look at Logan.

He looks at you. 

Suddenly, his hands clasp around your hips. Probably you move you off of him…

And then you’re on fire. 

Like gasoline has made a line from his touch to your cunt, everything in you is set ablaze. Your pussy clenches and you’ve never felt so empty before - or at least not so aware of it.

There is a cock-shaped hole and it’s begging to be filled.

You expect Logan to freak out, you’re freaking out - you never thought you had a murder kink but you guess you’re never too old to find out something new about yourself - but he doesn’t.

Instead you just see him furrow his brow as if processing something; then acknowledge the press of his hardening cock rub against your thigh as he bucks up into you.

Oh no. Something is wrong.

When you feel Wade grab your shoulder and haul you back to your feet it’s the same, that delicious burning sensation rocketing through you… and from the way he moans as soon as his hands are on you, the feeling is mutual. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” he breathes. Yeah. You want to, that’s the issue.

You stagger away from him with wide eyes and electric skin, a beat passing between the three of you as the people left in the lab decide to give up the fight now their boss is toast. Hearts racing, hands wanting to reach out and touch.

Logan is the one to break the silence.

“We should call in and let the others know we’re done,” he manages. You nod.

“Yeah. Can we… can we go back across the street? I don’t feel so good.”

“Oh, don’t you go Spider-Man Infinity War Part 1 on me,” Wade chuckles. You don’t have the energy to work out what he’s referencing, especially when a jolt goes through your body to your cunt when you feel his eyes meet yours. 

Damn. This is bad. 

“Yeah. Of course, honey,” Logan manages. He goes to put his hand on the small of your back and then thinks better of it, though you can feel its nearness like a magnetic pull. You almost moan when he retracts his touch instead. Wade whips his phone out and fires off a message to let someone know a cleanup crew is needed as you stagger out of the alleyway and back across the street. 

You didn’t bother closing the door when you ran out, too desperate to monopolise on the chance of getting your mark. The three of you tumble back into the room you’d been dying to get out of just a scant few minutes ago, relieved to be in the privacy of its confines again.

A moment passes as all three of you adjust to the feeling coursing through your bodies.

“What’s happening?” you breathe, bracing your hands on the back of your go-to wooden chair and breaking it with the force of your grip. You wince at the sound of splintering, blood dripping down your palms before you feel it heal over.

“I’ve not felt like this since I first discovered how easy it was to masturbate to Good Housekeeping,” Wade groans, whipping off his mask as he flops down onto the battered-up-couch. Logan has made his way to the fridge again, practically ripping its door off to get to a beer which he downs in one swig. Fuck. It’s so sexy. You want to lick the muscles in his neck.

“It’s a pollen,” he states, voice rocky in a way which goes straight to the burning pit of your stomach. You and Wade exchange a look and then turn to him, waiting for further explanation. “Only has a reaction in mutants. Charles said it was something about putting the id into overdrive, like a fuckin’ adrenaline shot to the libido.”

“It… it makes you aroused?” you manage, attempting not to rock your cunt into the palm of your hand. Logan grunts.

“Was trying to be more tactful, but yeah, honey. That’s the idea.”

Honey. The pet name once again goes down your spine.

“Fucking sorry,” says Wade, “someone was manufacturing this stuff as a drug for what? To make mutants too horny to fight?”

Logan shrugs, still not tearing his gaze from his empty bottle, as if to agree it’s his best guess. Wade’s head falls back against the sofa’s arm.

“I mean, damn, they could have just shown me any frame from Magic Mike XXL and it would have had the same result. Seems like a lot of effort.”

Something about the way Logan talks sticks out to you, you circle back around to it. 

“Logan, you seem to know a lot about this stuff… have you encountered it before?”

Another beer grabbed and chugged down, the forward hunch in his shoulders physical evidence of his walls raising. 

“Once. Back in the day with the other X-Men.”

“How did you get through it? Does it go away?”

Logan doesn’t reply. Drinks.

The unspoken answer sinks in.

“Oh my god, you had to fuck it out, didn’t you?” gasps Wade. Logan doesn’t even growl. Jesus Christ he’s right. “Who was it? Storm? Beast? By the love of all things 100k+ enemies-to-lovers-slowburn, tell me it was Cyclops.”

Logan doesn’t dignify him with an answer, instead putting the empty bottle down with enough force you’re surprised it doesn’t shatter.

“It’ll pass. I just need to sit it out,” he reasons, the grit in his jaw suggesting this isn’t the optimal solution. You feel your eyebrows tug together, a crease of concern settling between them.

“But…”

“I’ll be fine.” The way he says it, he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. With the room in the air practically throbbing he heads to the bedroom, leaving you and Wade alone.

Holy shit. You and Wade are alone.

Your eyes wander over to him, to find his gaze is already resting heavy on you. Your skin lights up.

“So, uh,” he starts, shifting himself awkwardly where his hard-on is trapped in his suit, “you read any good books lately?”

That does help to alleviate the tension and you find yourself chuckling, only for the relief to be ablated when your empty pussy pulses. You whine.

“Wade…”

As soon as you say his name he’s rushing over to you, helping you sit down on the ruined chair. You both moan as hot skin slides against hot skin. 

“Look, it isn’t…” you groan as you slide your hand up his bicep. Fuck, he’s strong. “...it isn’t a crazy idea to help each other out, right? We’re friends. It’s just two friends giving each other a hand…”

Wade dips down to run the bridge of nose along the line of your jaw, letting his lips drop to the pulse in your neck.

“Just friends…” he mutters. You buck up into nothing. Oh, god. You’re going to die here. “Baby?”

Oh shit, oh fuck. You want him to call you that over and over again, stamp it into your fucking mind.

“Yeah?” you reply, the word ripped rawly from your throat.

“I wanted to do this before we even left this goddamn apartment, you think I might have changed my mind after the mutant viagra?”

He pulls back just enough for you to see the seriousness on his face. No, he’s not joking, not saying something dirty just because he thinks it’s funny. 

He’s saying it because it’s true, and it’s both thrilling and terrifying. 

“Can I?”

Oh, it’s so tempting to say yes yes yes… but the more tempting thing is to tease him. Just a little.

You hook your leg over his shoulder and he groans as you dig your heel into the muscle of his back. He groans loud and long.

“Wade?”

“Mmm?”

“Ask me properly.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and you’re pretty sure he’s making a mess in his suit.

“Fuck, can I eat you out, baby? Please?”

You nod so fast you fear you’ll break your neck.

Wade lifts you like you weigh fucking nothing at all, strong arms scooping you up and bringing you to the couch - desperate for more space. His hands move quick and roughly as he goes to the pants on your suit, so wracked with need his fingers shake just from the promise of getting to touch you properly. You help him as much as you can, toeing off your boots and helping him tug your underwear off along with your waistband. His eyes widen as he realises your panties are in his hands. He takes a moment to run his thumb over the cotton of them and he fucking moans. Oh, god damn it, you’re going to be fucking ruined.

“Fuck. Never seen a pussy look this good,” he breathes as he finds himself face-to-face with your dripping cunt. You’re already so wet that it’s embarrassing and, while it would be easy enough to blame on the pollen, you know that you’ve wanted this for months. When he drags his tongue up your puffy, desperate folds, you pretty much combust.

“Oh shit,” you groan, wrapping your other leg round his face to hold him flush against you - not that Wade needs any convincing though, because you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck you with his mouth before. He buries himself in you, scarred hands reaching up to dig into the soft skin of your thighs and keep you steady. He wants you at his own pace, it seems, and is strong enough to make it happen. Fuck, you are not complaining.

Wade’s eyes flit upwards to see how you’re reacting as he moves his whole face side to side to bury himself into your cunt deeper. It’s like he’s trying to find where your scent is the strongest and, honestly? With what you’ve heard about this pollen stuff? Seems right on track. He has no hair for you to bury your fingers in so instead you press your hand to the top of his head and pull him closer, because god knows you don’t have the ability to vocalise it. You sink your fingernails in so he knows, though.

Holy hell you’ve never felt so good. The pollen is heightening everything, each movement he makes into you shooting shockwaves through your nerves. Wade’s tongue is insistent in exploring every inch of you, pressing bluntly into your clit; lapping at the wetness seeping from you like he’ll die if he can’t taste what he’s doing to you; dragging down to your ass and toying with you there, too. Yes, fuck, anything he goddamn wants. When his teeth skim the needy folds of your cunt you jackknife into his mouth, almost breaking them clean out of his gums.

“Holy shit, babe. What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles, pupils so blown wide with lust that his eyes are eclipsed with black. You chase after him with your hips.

“Not you, and that’s the problem,” you harrumph. He grins and you see how covered with your slick he is and fuck you are going to die here. 

“I’ll take care of you. That’s what friends do, right?” he asks, putting emphasis on the word you’re both masquerading behind. When you reach out with a searching hand he threads his finger through yours wordlessly, using the other to grab a pillow so he has something to fuck up against. You feel a tiny bit bad for not offering to help but you know he’ll get his in time - in fact just thinking about sucking his cock your mouth begins to water.

He presses his palm into yours as he goes back to your cunt with his mouth. It takes only moments for him to start up his desperate pace again, tongue sinfully sweet, and you’re chasing and chasing…

Stars explode in your vision and in your blood. The noise you let out is feral, a euphony of pleasure and you don’t care who hears. Wade’s eyes drift close as he tastes your orgasm directly at his lips, drinking you down. You’re certain his hips stutter as he comes just from getting you off. Oh god it’s so hot.

Oh god, you’re not done.

Wade surges up your body and kisses you ferociously, you moan at the taste of yourself he gives back. 

“Fuck, yes, do you taste that, baby? What did I do to you? Holy fuck you are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen…”

“Wade, I need you.”

“Yeah, fuck, okay. Let me get this stupid sexy suit off…”

Hands begin to fumble messily, needily at each other’s zippers in order to strip. You sit up to get a better handle on him—

And freeze when you see you have an audience.

Wade follows your gaze to where Logan is standing in the bedroom doorway. He’s managed to get his suit off and change back into his jeans, though you can’t imagine he’ll want to stay in them for long the way his trapped cock is staining dark blue denim even darker. He’s gripping the doorframe with such force that his claws have popped out, eyes a matching pitch black to Wade’s, chest heaving as he watches the show.

“You okay, honey badger?” Wade drawls, a cocky smile dragging across him. Logan grunts. Swallows hard. You go for a softer tactic.

“Logan, sweetheart, you wanna join in?” your voice is husky as you ask, oh so inviting. Logan squeezes his eyes shut and his fist tight, taking a chunk out of the wall.

“Get into the goddamn bedroom, both of you,” he growls. The two of you absolutely do not need to be told twice. Partially undressed you vault over the back of the dishevelled sofa, letting Logan lead the way. As soon as you’re within arms’ reach he snags you around the waist and pulls you in for a kiss.

Logan kisses like he wants to devour you. Rough, commanding, dragging his tongue into your mouth as if trying to claim you. Oh, you’ll let him a hundred times over. You mewl when his hand reaches down you cup your still dripping pussy, immediately swiping a thumb against your clit. It pulses as if Wade didn’t just pull an orgasm out of you.

“Fuckin’ needy little thing,” he snarls, delighted. You reach down to grab the bulge he’s rocking, squeezing hard enough to get him to groan.

“Look who’s talking,” you chuckle. He taps at the top of your suit, an instruction. 

“Off,” he says, but that’s as much as he gets to say, because Wade grabs him by the beard and steers him in for a kiss. You pause for just a second to see what will happen but clearly you needn’t have worried - Logan moans into your friend’s mouth, grabbing a handful of Wade’s pretty decent ass and digging in his fingers. While they’re busy you finish stripping, going for the zipper on the back of the red suit and pulling it down. It’s such a goddamn stupid design having it at the back like a goddamn prom dress - but at the moment you’re kinda thankful for it because it means you get to kiss along the revealed plain of skin. Wade has such beautiful fucking back muscles, you’ve stared at them for long enough to memorise every damned one.

He steps out of the suit when you get to his feet - yeah, he did come just from eating you out earlier and holy fuck are you proud - and lets out a strangled noise when you bite the meat of his asscheek hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck, are you gonna rim me? Because if so I’m a thousand percent down,” he chokes, pulling away from Logan’s mouth and leaving a string of spit between them, evidence of a messy kiss. You shrug.

“You want me to, baby?”

Wade seems to have a crisis of faith as he considers this, letting Logan nibble down the length of his neck; eventually he shakes his head though.

“No, I wanna be inside you, like, yesterday,” he confesses. 

“I’ve got enough room for two,” you state, so absolutely sure the pollen will accommodate that you don’t even need to think about it. Both Wade and Logan suck in a breath at that idea.

“Fuck, baby, aren’t you just perfect,” Logan drawls, grabbing you by the hips as you stand up and pulling you to the pathetic twin bed this apartment was provided with. Not how you wanted this first time to go down but hey, at least it’s going down at all. No longer just a dirty fantasy you bury your fingers into your cunt imagining but a real bonafide liaison (boner-fide liaison, Wade’s voice in your head pipes up).

You paw at his jeans, desperate to have all three of you naked and ready. There’s nothing to hide between you any more. Any boundaries have been not only crossed but decimated, absolutely destroyed beyond repair, and you couldn’t be happier. When his cock falls heavy into your palm you can’t help but suck air in through your teeth at its sheer size. Logan chuckles, gravelly and tempting.

“Oh it’ll fit, baby,” he coos, as if reading your mind. Fuck. Yep, it will. There’s no two ways about it. You’re having both Wade and Logan inside you if it kills you.

He wraps you in his arms before you can have any more thoughts on the matter and pulls you down onto the mattress with him, the pollen in your veins making you feel every touch like the end of a live wire - yet you keep coming back to get shocked. Logan positions himself under you, chest-to-chest, grinning at the way your nipples rub against the coarse and gorgeous hair of his chest. There’s a slapping noise and you realise it’s Wade’s hand on Logan’s thigh, encouraging him to move up the bed.

“Big boy, you know you have to scoot up if this is happening. I’m all for fucking the same pussy together but you have to be realistic…”

Obscured by your body, only you get to see the way Logan rolls his eyes fondly at Wade’s blabbering. He manouveurs you both to allow Wade room to kneel on the mattress behind you and you gasp at the feeling of their cocks bullying at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, body on fire and desperate to be extinguished by them. Logan hums in your ear.

“I know, baby, I know. We’ll take care of you.”

“And each other. I got sex-pollened too, old man,” Wade harrumphs, rubbing his head against the slick lips of your cunt. 

“Nobody’s forgetting you, princess,” he murmurs, “now be good and put me inside.”

Logan probably misses the soft hiss Wade lets out at that, but you feel the way the mercenary’s hand wraps around his cock and presses Logan to your empty cunt. You moan in pleasure as he follows the path Wade has laid out and pushes himself inside of you, no resistance given. It takes you only a couple of seconds to adjust to the pure size of him. Holy shit, if this were any other time you’d be falling apart by now, but the way your body pumps with desperation suggests one dick alone isn’t going to be enough.

“You okay?” Logan rumbles by your ear. You cling onto him for dear life, nodding.

“Yeah. Fuck, Wade, I know you’ll fit, you’ve gotta fuck me too.”

Wade doesn’t even have an answer for that. Instead you feel his thumb tug at your lips, stretching you for him - or just watching the way Logan fills you, getting off on the filthy way you’re plugged. Another cock begins to press at your already stuffed hole and you whine.

“S’okay, I gotcha,” Logan says through gritted teeth as he feels Wade’s length slide along his own, the feeling almost overwhelming for him. You drop your head to his shoulder and choke on your own spit as Wade forces himself inside of you. Your cunt feels like it is about to burst into flames in the most satisfying way possible, flowering open between them both.

“Fuck, never felt anything so goddamn tight in my life…” Wade manages. Eventually he bottoms out alongside Logan, both of them sitting snugly inside of you, sharing you, clutched in your warmth. 

“There we go,” Logan growls. “You okay, baby?”

Not knowing if the question is aimed at you or Wade you both whine a yes. Logan laughs and you feel his chest move beneath you, all muscle and heat.

“I’m gonna move now.”

He drags himself out of you, inch by glorious inch, like a match striking against a box and sparking an ember. A deep ragged breath shudders through you at the feeling of it but it is nothing compared to how he slams back inside. Lights flood your periphery. You are going to fucking die between these two men and that is fine. Heaven, even.

Once Wade feels Logan’s rhythm it is too much of a competition for him not to match it. The mercenary’s arms fall either side of your bodies to support himself as he works himself in and out of you, sliding deep as Logan retreats to the tip. Your cunt makes a lewd noise as they piston inside of you and you have never cared about anything less in your life. You are bathed in light, high off this, euphoric over being fucked. A tiny rivulet of drool falls from the edge of your mouth into Logan’s chest hair and he curses at the glorious rawness of it all.

Above you, Wade has finally found his voice again.

“Look at you taking us so well. Oh, fuck, goddamn. I’ve wanted you like this for so long. Remember when we were neighbours, honey? Those guys who you used to bring home… fuck, baby… I used to give myself the old low-five to the sound of you getting fucked…”

You make a pathetic little noise which spurs him onwards. Wade’s mouth drops to your ear.

“...and I used to get angry because I knew I could do it better myself.”

“Oh my god Wade…” you whisper. Tears are beginning to pool in your eyes at the way you’re starting to get overstimulated, two cocks hitting that sweet spot inside you verges on being too much. Were the pollen not still in full force you’re sure you’d need to tap out.

“And you?” Wade’s hand grips Logan’s bicep, squeezing appreciatively. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up every morning and see you shirtless on my couch, and not be able to fuck you? You do it on purpose, peanut, I swear…”

Logan chuckles again, that deep honey-rich sound eked out in magnitudes. 

“And what if I do, Red?”

Wade pauses in his thrusting, you don’t have to see him to know that his eyes are wide.

“Wait, what? For real?”

“Wade!” you whine, reaching over to slap at his arm, annoyed that he’s stopped moving. “Can we all just agree we’ve gotten off to the thought of each other and we’d have fucked eventually anyway?”

The men either side of you seem to think it’s a good compromise to come to and redouble their efforts. All you can do is to cling onto whatever muscles you’re able to find and ride the wave of pleasure. Fireworks go off in your synapses, brain a messy goo of euphoria, cunt fucked out and thoroughly taken care of. 

They speed up, thrusts getting messy and arrhythmic and yet still somehow matching, and you know that they’re going to come together. What a fucking treat, how divine, oh god. Logan’s hands sink into your ass to keep you anchored as his cock goes faster, skin slapping on skin as his sac moves against Wade’s - causing the merc to let out a string of curses - and you’re suddenly flooded with his warm, sticky cum pumping inside you in jets. Wade whines at the feeling of himself being doused and follows Logan’s lead. The filthy cocktail of them drips around both their lengths and out of your hole, falling onto the pathetic mattress below. One last little nudge of the hips is all it takes to push you over the edge again. Your next orgasm is dragged out of you… but you know your body will demand more.

For now, though, respite. The urge to reach that peak again immediately has at least settled for the moment.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh. Logan hums an affirmative note, fingers playing with the small of your back as Wade peppers kisses across your shoulderblades.

“We should go on stakeouts more often, if this is the nice little bow everything gets tied up in,” Wade sighs, dreamily. You nod against Logan’s chest. His hair rubs your cheek deliciously. Your pussy throbs again, reminding you this dirty escapade needs to continue soon. “So what does this mean? Are we a little mutant charcuterie now?”

Your brow furrows as you try to parse what Wade has just said.

“Oh. Wade, baby, do you mean ‘coterie’?”

Logan bursts out laughing, a noise you’ve never properly heard before, and it has you grinning - and Wade, too, even though he grumbles a little at being corrected. Their cocks jostle inside you and you feel them getting hard again and, as you prepare yourself for round two, it’s nice to know that whatever the three of you face at the end of this will be happy.

Three days later, you’re laid across the couch, head in Wade’s lap and legs in Logan’s, all tangled together as you get the single worst telling-off of your life.

“Non-lethal mission, Wade! How many times did I have to tell you, it was meant to be non-lethal!” Piotr shouts down the line. Wade grimaces.

“Look, there were other things we had to sort out first, okay? We kinda forgot about the no-killing part. Besides the guy can’t traffic drugs if he’s dead,” he confesses. You can picture Piotr’s disappointed face.

“Other things!? WHAT other things, Wade?!”

“Okay so there was this horny pollen, and we all had to—”

Logan grabs Wade’s phone and hurls it across the room. It shatters into pieces against the wall. Wade gawps.

“Hey! That was new! Well, okay, not new, but it wasn’t cracked. Well, it was cracked, but it had all my best dick pics on there!”

“You can take new ones,” Logan states. 

You smile. Yeah. The charcuterie is nice.

[moonyflesh]

What if Wolverine took you to a hockey game?

WARNINGS: (not much). no smut- just a playful set of imagines/headcannons — very fluffy and ‘lovey-dovey’ (small kisses and cursing).

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (‘Wolverine’) - (MARVEL/X-MEN)

🍺 .*.. 🏒

- At first you thought he was joking.

- i mean- can you imagine trying to squeeze his massive frame into one of those tiny, plastic stadium chairs?

- sure you know nothing about the “Calgary Flames”, but supporting the beast either way is entertaining enough as it is—

- (^) literally the worst person to sit around. he’s loud, obnoxious, (big), and curses like there’s no tomorrow.

- “fuckin- can you fuckin’ believe these pieces ‘uh shit? i totally could’ve fuckin’ made that fuckin’ shot. buncha’ bullshit ifya ask me.”

- he’s definitely big on stadium snacks. constantly has to get up and get more food (and beer).

- (^) the bar would 100% have to draw a limit on the amount of beer they can physically sell him.

- probably walks you through the basic rules of ice hockey, and/or the different players, and the fan-favorites.

- little forehead or cheek kisses when he needs to run to go to the bathroom or grab more food.

- one of his arms is slung around your shoulders at all times.

- throughout the game, he’s constantly glancing over at you- reading your facial expressions. are you enjoying yourself? do you know what’s happening? is this entertaining for you, too?

- definitely likes to show you (and your jersey) off.

- (^) forced you to wear a Flames jersey (that’s much to large on you) and is proud of you for “pickin’ the right fuckin’ team”— so what? at least you get his undivided attention.

- puts you on his shoulders so you both have a better chance of getting on the big screen.

- (^) and if you do? jesus, it makes his whole month. the second that camera pans to you two he’s already tongue-deep into your mouth, grinning like an idiot as you try to push him away from embarrassment.

- you totally go to the photo booth and take the most grainy, out-of-focus pictures known to man together in some shitty ice rink backdrop, (to which he insists you look beautiful- and sticks the entirety of the photo into his wallet).

- buys you a shitload of merch, including one of the collectible hockey pucks.

- claims to know some of the players personally (he’s never met any of them outside of the rink).

- distinctly shouts out each player’s first and last names when cheering them on.

- boos the other team, and their fans with zero shame whatsoever.

- the drive home depends on the outcome of the game.

- (^) The Flames lose? he’s not even mad- he’s just disappointed that that was all his team could manage for your first game. he promises to take you to more, though.

- (^) and if they win? he’s already discussing the ticket prices for the next game (if you’re willing to go with him again); excited grins tossed your way here and there as he makes sure you’re paying attention.

@trenchcoathunnybee08 this is dedicated to you! Sorry it took so long to finally get out (in some ways, it’s still a WIP). 🫶🏼

((if any of you would like to be added to my taglist, let me know through my inbox.))

[appocalipse]

the same thing ・❥・b. barnes

summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You should be resting."

You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."

A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."

He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.

"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.

He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.

You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."

You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."

Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?

Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"

Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.

"Hm?"

Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."

"I'll live."

"It was stupid."

"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"

Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.

"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.

"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You were shot."

"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.

It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.

Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.

You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.

"How bad is it?"

"Huh?" you say in a deliberately casual tone. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."

There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.

Or maybe just not to Bucky.

"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"

"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.

"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."

Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"

"They didn't."

"But what if they had?"

"Then I would have died!"

Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."

You open your mouth, then close it.

"You think I want that?" he asks softly.

"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."

A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.

"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."

"It would never be better if you were hurt."

"Bucky—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."

You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"

"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."

The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"

He just looks at you for a long moment.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.

"You kill me."

Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"

"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."

Oh.

"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"

"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.

You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.

"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."

You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.

"But I do."

"Do...what?" you whisper.

"Want you."

It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."

His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."

Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.

You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."

You really want to kiss him right now.

It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.

"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."

"How so?"

"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"

"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"

Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.

You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.

You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.

"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"

Bucky just smiles against your skin.

[sacredsorceress]

Meet Cute with Logan Would Include... || Wolverine Headcanons

pairing: logan howlett (wolverine) x mutant!f!reader summary: you're a new teacher at the school and logan is interested in you from your first meeting a/n: i'm admittedly projecting with the fact that reader teaches history but just a little blurb because logan's been on my mind and i need to get work done <33 lmk if you want me to make this into an actual fic!! warnings: none, all fluff

masterlist | inbox | tip jar (ko-fi)

when you first arrive at the school as a teacher (and late blooming mutant) charles introduces you to logan

logan has a typical scowl on his face and glances at you up and down

so you begin to worry that you've worn the wrong outfit or presented yourself poorly and now an infamous wolverine dig is about to be thrown your way

but instead, he takes a puff of his cigar, and looks back at charles

"you have a rule about only recruiting good-looking teachers or something?"

and what an array of relief (and butterflies) do you get from that

"yes, very funny, logan. however, y/n here has a phd. I've brought her on to teach the students"

"yeah? and what's your "gift"?" (mutation)

he has a coy look on his face

"oh logan, that's a bit personal..." you said with faux seriousness. "buy me a drink first."

for the first time, you saw him smile. a chuckle reverberated in his chest.

"fair enough."

after that interaction charles escorted you out of the room but as you went, logan's eyes were trained on you.

intrigued, he took another puff of his cigar and smiled to himself.

on your first night there, once all the children have gone to sleep and all the adults have gone to their own rooms for the night you hear a knock on your door.

and guess who it is?

you hate to admit it but god, does he look so hot and suave standing in your doorway.

logan's hair is in a typical mess and his flannel has a few more buttons undone than it did this morning,

and although he's rough around the edges and not as necessarily openly friendly as the others, he exudes confidence- especially as he leans against your doorframe.

"you said i owed you a drink."

although he takes you to the diviest dive bar in town, you have such a good time.

after a little bit of awkwardness, the two of you found your footing and you end up talking (flirting) for hours

well, in actuality, you do most of the talking but boy does he like listening to you talk and watching your eyes light up while you laugh at some of your own stories

on the way back to the mansion, he opens the car door for you

"thank you."

"don't mention it" (he's blushing a little)

on the ride back he tries to be as smooth as possible, one arm draped over the passenger seat while the other rests on the steering wheel

he keeps taking quick glances at you as you hum along to the song on the radio and even though you just met he's already thinking about how he could get used to this

he walks you back to your room and as much as he wants to make another move (and you do too) he doesn't want to mess up your relationship before its even started

i mean, you're living in the same place?? what happens if you don't like it?? and you end up hating him?? now his suave demeanor has crumbled under the weight of realising this is actually real and not a game

"I'll.. uh... be down the hall if you need me."

"thanks, logan" you smile softly and he thinks its the first time anyone's done that in over a decade and meant it

when he starts walking down the hall, you call out in a whisper

"oh and logan!" you pause. "sweet dreams."

before he can say anything the door of your bedroom shuts

a stupid, silly grin coats his face so big that he rubs his hand across his cheeks in fear anyone would catch the big bad wolverine becoming a softie for the teacher he's got the hots for

although you've just met, you've got him wrapped around your finger and he can barely believe it

shoving his hands in his pocket, logan shakes his head and laughs on the way to his own bedroom

"fuck."

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Red

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: sexual assault (not quite rape), angst, feeling uncomfortable by a man touching you, minor fluff at the end

Summary: A mission calls for you to find your inner vixen to get information from a man who is known to be a womanizer. Things don’t go according to plan, so Sam has to step up and take matters into his own hands. When Bucky hears about it, he turns to you knowing you need comfort in the safest way possible.

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Author’s Note: this is a commission fic for the lovely @elegantauthor! go give her a follow! if you'd like a commission, use the link above for more information!

x

The short black dress stares back at you in your closet with a knowing look. You don’t want to wear this. you don’t want to go on this mission. You’d rather spend the night cuddled up next to your boyfriend and watch movies. Instead, you’re going on a mission to essentially be a vixen, not in the literal sense where you have sex with someone but in the sense where you have to seduce the target to get what you want.

It's not ideal but this is the job.

The man in question is a womanizer and is high in the weapons world. He’s one of the most well-known weapons dealers across the country. He mostly deals out of his club but whenever authorities raid his club, they can’t find anything to nail him with. That’s when they called your team to do what they clearly can’t.

You yank the dress off the hanger and quickly put it on. You haven’t worn this since before you started going out with Bucky. You can remember wearing this to the club with your friends.  The material is a bit tighter than you remember but it’ll help you get what you want. You shift your boobs to make them pop more without having them completely spill out the top. You walk to your vanity and sift through your makeup.

Someone knocks on your door before walking in. You smile when you see it’s your boyfriend.

“Hey, baby.” He has a frown etched onto his face, deeper than usual. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like this plan.” You’re the only one who can get close to Mezzi. Anyone else would just tip him off. “Not that I don’t want you flirting with another man, but Mezzi is bad news. He treats women like shit. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You set down your makeup brush and walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands automatically settle on your waist.

“I’m a professional, baby, and a really skilled spy. I’ve gotten bigger, more tougher men to talk for less. I’ve done this before. Plus, Sam and John will be there if anything goes wrong.”

The mention of the blonde man makes his frown deeper.

“I don’t like that John is going.”

“You don’t like anything he does.”

“There’s something dirty about him. He’s not a good man.”

You pull Bucky down toward you and kiss him, keeping the kiss short and sweet.

“You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine. It’s just another mission.”

Bucky slides one of his hands into your hair and kisses you for longer this time.

“Okay, I trust you,” he whispers against your lips.

“Good,” you grin and peck his lips once more.

You finish getting ready and leave with Sam and John to the car. Bucky leads his own team of soldiers who will wait outside until the cue is given. He would have gone in with you but Mezzi knows Bucky’s face. He would have ruined the entire mission before it could begin.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” you say. “I’ll go in first and distract him while you two go to the bar and pretend to be just like any other customer. Once I’m close, I’ll casually ask how my friend heard about his weapons and would like to buy some. Hopefully, he’ll be drunk enough to say where he keeps them which we would call in Bucky’s team.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam shrugs.

“We need a safe word,” you say.

“Why?” John asks.

“Because I’m a woman going in to seduce a womanizer who looks like he doesn’t like the word no. So, I need a safe word or I’m not going in.”

“Seems fair,” Sam says.

“Fine, what is it?”

“Red. I’ll work it into the conversation but if you hear me say that, move in immediately.”

John doesn’t say anything but nods in agreement. When you get to the club, you go in first. The place is already crowded with a bunch of people but you push past them all to get to the far end of the club. There is a section separated by curtains and guards which can only mean it’s the VIP section. Through the large slit in the curtains, you see Mezzi sitting back with both arms on the back of the couch.

Bingo.

You walk closer to the VIP section and start to move your body to the music. Sam and John walk in and head to the bar like they’re supposed to while keeping a close eye on you. You look up and meet Mezzi’s eyes through the slit and smirk at him. You’ve got his attention. You run your hands down your body and move sensually to the music. He leans forward and licks his bottom lip, already entranced by you.

He calls for one of his guards and whispers something to him while maintaining eye contact with you. The guard leaves and heads over to you, and you pull your eyes from Mezzi to look at the guard.

“Boss wants to see you.”

“Lead the way,” you grin.

He allows you to pass into the VIP section, and Mezzi leans back with a lazy smirk on his face.

“Up close, you’re even more beautiful,” he grins. “Drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He gets up and walks over to the mini bar to make your drink. You watch him carefully to make sure he doesn’t put anything in your drink, and you relax when he doesn’t. This place is so secluded from the rest of the club due to the curtains so anything can happen in here and no one would know about it. Luckily, you have Sam and John in your ear so you’ll be able to call for them if things get out of hand.

“Thank you,” you smile and accept the drink. He takes a seat next to you, a little bit closer than your liking. It’s okay. Pretend he’s Bucky. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so handsome before.”

“Oh, baby, there is no one else like me. You’ve come to the right section. I can blow your mind without even touching you.”

“Oh, really? Lucky me,” you giggle.

Mezzi reaches out and runs his hands over your exposed thighs, and you picture Bucky’s hands touching you. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to do this for a mission, but it is the first time since you’ve been with Bucky. You respect him too much to do things like this, but there was no other way to get close to Mezzi.

“God, you’re so sexy. Best looking girl here.”

“You’re just saying that.”

His hands briefly slide up your dress before he moves it back down. “No, I’m not. When I see something I like, I make sure she knows about it.”

“Here’s to new opportunities,” you grin and hold your drink out to him. He raises his own drink and clinks it with yours, but he only takes a sip. He’s careful not to intake too much alcohol, especially when he’s involved in so much illegal shit. “I was hoping to talk to you tonight.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“I have this friend who was asking about you.”

“What friend?”

“Oh, just a friend.” You reach over and dance your fingers across his chest, slightly sliding them through the buttons of his shirt. “He says you have a certain shipment he’d like to buy from you. He wouldn’t tell me more. He says you’d know what I was talking about.”

Mezzi’s attitude switches but it’s very subtle. You can see it in his eyes. He does not like that question. He slides his hand up your body and rests his palm over the hollowness of your throat. Not hurting you but letting you know he can hurt you if you piss him off.

“Well, you tell your friend if he wants something I have, then he should be the one asking for it, not sending his whore after me.”

“Now, that’s not very nice.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, baby, it was a compliment.”

He pulls you in closer so that you’re practically in his lap, and you suddenly grow uncomfortable. He has one thing on his mind and it’s not talking.

“Out of curiosity, what’s the shipment?” you ask, trying to get his mind somewhere else.

“Enough talking. You clearly came here for one thing and one thing only. I deliver on all of my promises, and I promise to make your time here worthwhile.”

He slides his hand up your dress and rests it very close to the one place you only ever want one man to go: Bucky. He leans in and presses kisses to your neck so lightly, and that’s when you panic. No mission is worth feeling like this. You don’t want to be here anymore.

“Red,” you blurt out.

“What?” he asks and pulls away.

“I like your red shirt. It’s very silky.”

“It looks better on the ground.”

Sam’s earpiece has been bothering him since he got here, so he’s trying to fix it. He should have gotten a new one when he had the chance since it’s not the first time this has acted up. John’s earpiece, however, works just fine. He hears your cry for help yet he does… nothing. He looks toward the VIP section and sips his drink casually.

“My favorite color is red,” you say with slight panic.

John can’t give away their position because Mezzi hasn’t given the location of his weapons yet. If they raid now, they might not have anything. Sam tweaks a few parts before putting it back in his ear. He smiles when it works but it’s lost when he hears your panicked voice.

“Has she been saying this? Why are you just sitting there?” Sam asks.

He gets up to rescue you but John grabs his arm.

“He hasn’t told her where the shipment is.”

“I don’t fucking care. Get your hand off me.”

Sam yanks his arm away and leaves to come to your rescue. John, on the other hand, finishes his drink leisurely.

Mezzi has you pinned to the couch with your dress bunched up at your hips. The only thing separating him from rape is a flimsy piece of cotton. You wish Bucky was here.

“Please stop,” you say, close to tears. “Red!”

He is about to silence you with a hand to your throat when he freezes. Sam places a gun to the back of his head.

“Let go of her.” Mezzi does and you scramble as far as you can get from him. You shake slightly and pull your dress down as much as it can go. “If you don’t want to get your head blown off, I’d suggest you tell us where your shipment is right now.”

“You’re bluffing,” he chuckles.

Sam moves the gun away from his head and aims it at his leg. He shoots once, and Mezzi jerks back in pain. The gun has a silencer on it so no one can hear how much Mezzi is in pain. The music drowns out his shouts of pain, and Sam moves the gun back to his head.

“Am I bluffing now?”

“In the basement, man. In the tunnels.”

“Come in, Buck. You’re up. It’s in the tunnels below,” Sam says into the earpiece.

“Copy that.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asks you while keeping the gun on Mezzi.

“I think so,” you whisper.

“Go. We’ve got it handled from here.”

You don’t think twice about leaving. All you want is to go home, shower, and cry.

“Shame,” Mezzi groans in pain. “She looks like her pussy would be tight.”

Sam rears his fist back and punches Mezzi hard in the jaw. So hard that Mezzi passes out right there and then. Bucky and his men found the shipment and were able to arrest Mezzi and his men on the spot. With that much evidence, no judge would ever think about letting them go. The adrenaline has worn off and the shakes have replaced it. You were almost raped. You were sexually assaulted. You might be a trained spy but that all went out the window the second Mezzi forced you on your back.

The second Bucky heard about what happened, pissed doesn’t even cover what he’s feeling. Sam had to tell Bucky what John did because it was wrong of him to hear your safe word and do nothing about it. Bucky storms into home base and makes a beeline for John. He grabs his collar and yanks him violently toward him.

“You heard her safe word and did nothing about it?”

“I knew she had it handled! He didn’t tell her where the shipment was.”

“I oughta kill you,” Bucky growls. He grabs John’s throat with his metal hand and squeezes. “She’s my girlfriend, you bastard.”

John is no match for Bucky so he doesn’t even try to fight back. Bucky is about to do more damage when Sam walks into the room.

“She’s asking for you, Buck.”

Bucky lets John go, and the latter coughs violently. “Get him the hell out. He better be gone when I get back.” He leaves the room and walks into your bedroom. The shower is going in your bathroom, and he looks inside to see you sitting on the shower floor with your knees to your chest. “Y/N?” You don’t reply. He knows how scared you must be. “He can’t hurt you anymore, baby.”

Again, you don’t respond to him. He steps inside the running shower and turns off the water, not caring if he has water on his clothes. He wraps you in your fluffy towel and scoops you into his arms. He brings you to the bed and sits you down before going into your closet. He grabs one of his big hoodies and dresses you in it.

The second he has you in his arms, you bury your head in his chest and cry.

“Shh, I’m right here. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I was so scared,” you whimper. “I thought… I just wanted you.”

“I’m here now. I won’t let him touch you again. You’re safe now.”

Bucky smooths down your hair and allows you to cry as much as you need to. He won’t tell you what John did because that would only make you feel worse.

“Please stay with me,” you whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere. You can rest knowing you’re protected. You’re safe now.”

“I love you,” you say and snuggle closer to him.

“I love you. Get some rest. I’ll be here the whole time.”

That’s all the comfort you need. He makes you feel safe, and that’s all you can ever ask for.

x

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[mmywanda]

Forbidden Pleasure — W.M

—

Paring: CEO!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you decided to join your family’s business, you had no idea the ceo of the rival company would be so.. alluring.

Warnings: Forbidden romance, seduction, corruption, future d/s dynamics, a lot of sexual tension, smut, Wanda in a suit needs its own warning, and more to be added in each chapter. men & minors dni.

Inspired by the brilliant song ‘Dandelion’ by Jesse Jo Stark. I highly recommend listening to it as the chapter names will be from the lyrics.

—

Chapter One: Dandelion (coming soon)

Chapter Two: ….

Chapter Three: ….

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Hey I’m sorry to bother, but can you do a Tony x teen reader? Platonic or familial obviously, but like where the reader isn’t smart academically and she’s constantly doing bad on tests and Tony comforting her? It’s fine if not thank you for your time either way :)

Academic validation

Summary: Tests aren’t the only thing that determine children’s intelligence.

Pairing: Tony Stark x teen!reader, Avengers x teen!reader

Warnings: I have no understanding of American education system

Word count: 870

a/n: I need that academic validation

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

masterlists | guidelines

The huge encircled D on Y/N’s physics exam is the only thing on her mind as she walks towards the Avenger’s tower.

There’s a permanent frown on her face. She really studied for this test, she even got Tony to quiz her, but clearly that didn’t help. He’s going to be so disappointed in her.

Y/N walks into the tower, giving the security guard in the lobby a small wave before going into the elevator. She holds onto her backpack’s straps tightly as she waits for the elevator to stop on the common floor. She hopes Tony won’t be in there.

The elevator doors opens and Y/N gets out of it. Her steps are slow and quiet, she doesn’t want to announce her arrival to anyone. A shaky sigh leaves her mouth when she hears people talking in the common room.

She tries to walk past everyone, quickly but quietly, but it’s not very easy to sneak past Avengers. “Hey, kid!” Sam exclaims, waving her over to the small group hanging out on the couches.

Y/N lets out a breath, putting on a smile as she makes her way over to them. “Hi, guys.” Her eyes move over everyone. No Tony, that makes her relax just a bit. “What are you doing?”

Natasha’s arm is is laying on the couch’s back rest, her fingers gently rubbing Wanda’s shoulder, as she gives Y/N a cheeky look. “Wanda got offended when Sam said Fuller House is better than Full House, so she is making us watch Full House.”

Wanda pushes Natasha’s side, glaring at her before turning to Y/N. “No one in their right mind thinks a sequel of an iconic show is better than the show itself.” At the end of the sentence, she glares at Sam too, who raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay.” Y/N giggles with a shake of her head. At times she thinks of herself more mature than the adults.

“Want to join us, honey?”

“Uh,” she bites her lip, “no, I can’t sorry.” She has decided to beg her teacher for a retake of the test to get a more respectable grade to show Tony.

“Okay, but don’t think you’re getting away from watching Full House with me.” Wanda grins.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Y/N waves at the trio and makes her way to her room.

In her room, she takes out the physics exam and looks it through over and over again, until she has fully memorized which parts she did wrong. It takes two hours. Two hours, which Y/N didn’t notice going by.

A knock on her door makes her jump. Her wide eyes glance at the clock, grumbling when she notices it’s over dinner time.

“It’s open!”

Tony walks inside the room, a small grin on his face and a plate of food on his hand. “I know everyone says we’re too alike, but please don’t take up on my habit of missing meals.” He sets the plate down on her desk. “It’s a bad habit, kiddo.”

“I won’t.” Y/N lets out an airy laugh, setting the test paper on the desk and pulling the plate in front of her.

“That your physics test?” Tony grabs the sheet of paper before Y/N is able to hide it.

“No!”

“What?” Tony glances at her with a frown. His eyes skim over both sides of the paper.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, her gaze going straight to the floor as she feels disappointment seeping into her body. “I did badly.” She mumbles, waiting for Tony’s criticism.

“So?” Tony sets the test back down. “Do you know how bad I did in school? I’m still absolutely brilliant.” He sits on her bed.

“Yeah.. but you’re great at physics, and math, and all that important stuff.”

“Sure.” Tony nods. “But this is only one test,” he taps the paper, “and you’re so great at so many things. You get As on history and English, you have a great eye for design, you have impeccable people skills, even though you hate most of them.” He laughs. “One physics exam doesn’t mean shit.”

Y/N looks at Tony, a small frown on her face. “But I want to be like you.”

“Kiddo, no one is going to be like me, not should they try to be like me.” Tony pats Y/N’s knee. “Is physics your passion?”

“I don’t know what my passion is.”

“Well, when you find your passion, I will be the one to hire you to work in a job that you love. Because no child living under my roof will work a day in their life in a job they despise. Yes, I will always encourage you to do your best at tests, but I’ll be proud of you no matter how well or bad you do in them.”

Sniffling, Y/N lunges to hug Tony. He embraces her right back, holding onto her tightly as long as she needs to be held, because even though he doesn’t love physical touch, he refuses to be the first one to pull away when a kid he considers his needs comfort.