#Xavier Summer Is Gone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urdreamydoodles · 2 months ago

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Can we have some headcannons about the comic X Men characters seeing their lover going absolutely animal during battle due to losing control and thinking the enemy killed the character they're paired with?

X-Men x Reader

You think the enemy killed your lover

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney, Wade Wilson, Cable & Hank McCoy

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- When Logan finally regains consciousness, he sees you in the midst of battle, a blur of primal fury tearing through your enemies. There’s something raw and unhinged about the way you move, like an animal unleashed, and it takes him a moment to realize you’re fighting as if he’s already dead. His heart clenches as he understands just how deeply his supposed “death” has shattered you.

- Watching you like this is both breathtaking and terrifying for Logan. He’s always respected your strength, but this is different—this is vengeance incarnate. He recognizes the wildness in your eyes, a mirror of his own rage when he loses himself. Logan knows he needs to reach you before you spiral further, but he also knows you won’t stop until every last threat is eliminated.

- Logan makes his way to you, dodging blows and gunfire, his voice rough as he tries to get through to you. He calls your name, over and over, louder each time, but you’re in too deep, consumed by grief and fury. The sight breaks him a little, knowing he’s the reason for your pain. But he’s never been one to back down, so he keeps pushing, shouting until his voice is hoarse.

- Just as you finish off the last enemy in a brutal display, Logan manages to reach you. He grabs your wrist, his grip firm but gentle, and he says your name in a tone that cuts through your haze of anger. When you finally turn to face him, there’s a mixture of disbelief and relief in your eyes, and he can see how hard it’s been for you to lose control.

- Logan pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as your anger fades into exhaustion. He murmurs reassurances, his voice softer than it usually is, telling you he’s okay, he’s here. You cling to him, breath hitching as the realization settles that he’s alive. Logan just holds you, whispering that he’s not going anywhere, grounding you as your mind returns from the edge.

- Later, when you’re both safe, Logan sits beside you, a hand on your back as he tells you how much it meant to him that you fought for him like that. But he also makes you promise that you’ll never let grief take you that far again. With a quiet intensity, he says he never wants to see you lose yourself like that, no matter the cost. You nod, grateful for his honesty and the steady comfort only he can give.

Remy LeBeau aka Gambit

- Remy never thought he’d see you like this, an unstoppable force ripping through your enemies as if they were nothing. His heart sinks as he realizes what’s driving you—thinking he’s gone, that he’s been taken from you. The raw anguish in your movements, the way you fight with reckless abandon, hits him harder than he could have imagined.

- Struggling to regain his own strength, Remy watches you, pain and admiration swirling within him. You’re beautiful even in your fury, and there’s something heart-wrenching about how much you care, how much his loss has devastated you. He knows he needs to reach you, but he’s almost afraid of what you’ll do when you see him.

- As you land blow after blow, Remy starts calling out to you, his voice a mixture of desperation and tenderness. He knows you can’t hear him through the storm of your anger, but he keeps trying, putting everything he has into reaching you. “Chérie, it’s me! I’m here,” he calls, each word laced with the hope that it’ll get through to you.

- Finally, when he’s close enough, Remy catches your arm, spinning you around to face him. For a heartbeat, there’s only shock and confusion in your eyes, and he braces himself, waiting for you to process that he’s alive, that he’s standing right here. His hand comes up to your face, and he whispers soothing words, his thumb tracing soft circles against your cheek.

- As you finally realize he’s okay, you collapse against him, the weight of the battle and your grief crashing over you. Remy wraps his arms around you, pressing gentle kisses to your temple, murmuring that he’s safe, that he’d never leave you. He holds you close, grounding you in his warmth, his presence pulling you back from the edge.

- Later, as you both recover, Remy teases you gently, his voice filled with warmth. “Didn’t know you cared so much, ma belle,” he says, though there’s a hint of seriousness behind his grin. He tells you he never wants to see you suffer like that for him again, that you don’t have to shoulder that pain alone. You smile back, grateful for his understanding and the promise of his steady presence.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- When Kurt wakes to the sight of you battling with reckless ferocity, he’s taken aback. He’s always known you were strong, but this is different—this is a primal, almost desperate rage that’s tearing through your enemies. It’s clear you believe he’s gone, and the realization stings, leaving him both moved and horrified by the depth of your grief.

- He watches you, his heart aching as he sees the agony etched into every move you make. Kurt has always admired your strength, but seeing you like this, driven by heartbreak and fury, is almost too much to bear. He knows he needs to get through to you, to pull you back before you lose yourself completely in the anger.

- With a deep breath, Kurt teleports closer, his voice steady and calm as he calls your name. He keeps his distance at first, understanding that you might not recognize him right away in your state. But he keeps talking, his words gentle yet insistent, hoping to break through the storm of emotions raging within you.

- When you finally turn to him, your eyes widen, a flicker of disbelief crossing your face. Kurt approaches cautiously, reaching out a hand to you, his touch featherlight as he reassures you he’s alive, that he’s here. He whispers soft words in German, words meant to soothe and comfort, and slowly, the tension in your body begins to ease.

- Kurt pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you tremble, the weight of your grief finally lifting as you realize he’s okay. He strokes your hair, murmuring reassurances, promising that he’ll always be here, that you won’t have to bear this pain alone. His touch is gentle, his presence grounding, a balm to your wounded heart.

- In the aftermath, as you sit together in quiet reflection, Kurt speaks softly, thanking you for fighting so fiercely for him. But he also makes you promise that you won’t let grief consume you like that again, that you’ll remember he’s here with you, no matter what. You nod, touched by his words, and the bond between you feels stronger than ever.

Scott Summers aka Cyclops

- When Scott sees you tearing through the battlefield, raw anger and sorrow radiating from you, his heart breaks. He knows what’s fueling you—that you think he’s been taken from you, that he’s gone. He watches in shock as you fight, your moves a chaotic blend of power and desperation, and he realizes just how deeply his “death” has shaken you.

- Though Scott is weak, he pulls himself up, calling out to you, his voice firm and steady. He knows how much his presence means to you, and he needs to reach you before you lose yourself entirely in your grief. “I’m here!” he shouts, but he can see you’re too far gone to hear him, lost in the haze of pain and rage.

- As you take down another enemy with a brutal blow, Scott gets close enough to grab your arm. You whirl around, anger flashing in your eyes, but the moment you see him, there’s a flicker of recognition. He meets your gaze, his hand steady on your shoulder, grounding you in his presence, letting you know he’s real, that he’s here.

- The realization hits you like a wave, and Scott gently pulls you into his arms, holding you as you shake. He doesn’t say anything, just holds you, his steady heartbeat a quiet reassurance against the storm inside you. You cling to him, letting his presence bring you back from the edge, the warmth of his embrace anchoring you in the here and now.

- Later, as you both catch your breath, Scott speaks softly, his tone serious yet tender. He tells you how much he appreciates the strength you showed, but he also asks you not to let grief drive you to that place again. He doesn’t want to see you suffer for him, and his words are filled with a gentle but firm conviction.

- With a quiet smile, you promise him that you’ll try to keep that darkness at bay, that you’ll remember he’s here, even in the toughest moments. Scott nods, his hand still on yours, and there’s a silent understanding between you—a shared strength that will carry you both through whatever comes next.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- The battle had taken its toll, and you were certain Jean had been lost. The surge of grief within you erupted into raw power, your abilities igniting in a way that scared everyone around you, including yourself. You tore through the enemies with an unrelenting fury, the thought of avenging her the only thing grounding you to the fight.

- When Jean finally managed to regain consciousness, she saw you surrounded by chaos, your power crackling in the air like a storm barely contained. The pain in your expression cut through her heart—seeing you like this, thinking she was gone, was unbearable. She called out to you softly, her voice strained but filled with urgency.

- At first, her words couldn’t reach you. You were too consumed by rage and despair, tearing apart anyone who dared come near. But Jean didn’t give up, pushing herself to stand, her telepathy reaching out to your mind, whispering gentle reassurances: I’m here. I’m alive. Please, come back to me.

- Her presence in your mind broke through the haze, and your powers faltered. You turned toward her, disbelief and hope flashing in your eyes. Jean reached out with both her hand and her thoughts, anchoring you as you stumbled toward her. The moment you touched her, the flood of emotions spilled over, and you collapsed into her arms.

- She held you tightly, her own tears falling as she whispered comforting words, grounding you. Jean didn’t shy away from the storm you had unleashed; instead, she understood the depth of your pain and vowed to help you carry it. Together, you stood amidst the wreckage, leaning on each other for strength.

- Later, as the two of you sat in the aftermath of the fight, Jean gently cupped your face and told you she’d never leave you, no matter what. Her words were a promise etched into your soul, and you held onto her, knowing she meant every word. The bond between you both deepened, forged in fire and grief but tempered with love and understanding.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- The storm within you matched the one raging in the sky, lightning cracking and thunder roaring as you unleashed your fury on those who had taken Ororo from you. You fought like a force of nature, your movements wild and untamed, your grief fueling every blow. The thought of her death had broken something in you, and you didn’t care if you fell with the enemies surrounding you.

- Ororo awoke to the sound of the storm and the sight of you at its center. She could feel the raw, unrestrained power radiating from you, and it frightened her to see you like this. She understood your pain, but she knew that if you didn’t stop, you would destroy yourself in the process.

- Using the last of her strength, Ororo summoned a gust of wind to push the enemies away from you. Her voice rang out, calm and steady despite her exhaustion: “I am here. Look at me.” The words were soft yet commanding, cutting through the chaos surrounding you.

- When your eyes met hers, the storm inside you faltered. You stumbled toward her, disbelief evident in your expression. Ororo reached out, pulling you into her arms as the tension drained from your body. The storm around you began to calm, the skies clearing as her presence soothed your anguish.

- Ororo held you close, her voice gentle but firm as she reassured you. “You are not alone in this,” she said, her words wrapping around you like a warm embrace. She didn’t admonish your actions but instead helped you find balance, her wisdom guiding you back to yourself.

- In the quiet moments after the battle, Ororo took your hand and looked into your eyes. “Your strength is remarkable, but you must learn to wield it with purpose,” she said. Her words weren’t a reprimand but a promise to help you grow. With her by your side, you knew you could face anything.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- When you thought Rogue had been killed, something inside you snapped. The world around you became a blur as you fought with unrelenting ferocity, your grief manifesting as raw, untamed power. You didn’t care about the consequences; all you wanted was to make those responsible pay for taking her away.

- Rogue regained consciousness just in time to see you in the middle of the carnage. Her heart ached at the sight of you, consumed by pain and rage, and she knew she had to stop you before you destroyed yourself. She pushed herself up, calling out to you with a voice full of both urgency and tenderness.

- At first, you didn’t hear her. The sound of your own anguish drowned out everything else, and you continued to fight, blind to the world around you. But Rogue wasn’t one to give up easily. She pushed through the chaos, reaching out to you with a determination born of love.

- When her hand finally touched yours, you froze. Her voice, soft yet steady, broke through the storm raging inside you. “Ah’m here, sugar. It’s me,” she said, her Southern drawl wrapping around you like a lifeline. The sight of her alive and well shattered the walls of your grief, and you collapsed into her arms.

- Rogue held you tightly, her own tears falling as she whispered reassurances. She didn’t shy away from your pain but embraced it, her presence a steady anchor in the aftermath of your fury. She stroked your hair, her touch grounding you as she helped you come back to yourself.

- Later, as you both sat together, Rogue cupped your face in her gloved hands and smiled softly. “You’re stronger than you know,” she said, her voice filled with affection. “But you don’t have to face this alone.” Her words were a balm to your soul, and you leaned into her, grateful for her unwavering love and support.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- When you thought Erik had been killed, your grief erupted into raw, unbridled power. You tore through the battlefield with a vengeance, your abilities surging beyond control. The air around you crackled with energy as you fought, determined to make every enemy pay for what they had done.

- Erik regained consciousness to the sight of your fury, and for a moment, he was both awed and terrified by your power. He had always admired your strength, but this was something else entirely—a manifestation of the depth of your love for him. He knew he had to reach you before you destroyed everything, including yourself.

- Summoning his strength, Erik called out to you, his voice sharp and commanding. “Enough!” he shouted, the weight of his authority cutting through the chaos. His words startled you, and for a moment, your rampage faltered as you turned to face him.

- When your eyes met his, the world seemed to stop. Erik’s gaze was steady, his expression calm but filled with concern. He took a step toward you, his hand outstretched. “I am here,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to fight alone.”

- The sight of him alive broke something inside you, and you collapsed into his arms, your anger giving way to overwhelming relief. Erik held you tightly, his presence grounding you as he whispered soothing words. He didn’t chastise you for your actions but instead reassured you that he understood your pain.

- In the aftermath, Erik sat with you, his hand resting on yours as he spoke. “Your strength is extraordinary,” he said, his tone filled with both admiration and caution. “But you must learn to control it, to channel it wisely.” His words weren’t a reprimand but a promise to guide you, and you nodded, knowing you could face anything with him by your side.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- When you believed Charles was gone, the world tilted on its axis. Grief consumed you, and in that moment, every lesson about restraint and control he'd ever taught you was forgotten. Your power erupted like a tidal wave, obliterating anything and anyone that dared stand in your path. The connection you’d always shared with Charles was severed, leaving a void that felt unbearable.

- Charles regained consciousness to the chaos you had unleashed. He immediately felt the intensity of your anguish, the raw and untamed energy you were emitting. Reaching out telepathically, he tried to connect with you, his mind brushing against yours with a gentle, familiar touch.

- At first, you resisted his presence in your mind, too consumed by your emotions to recognize it. But Charles persisted, his voice calm and steady in your thoughts: I am here, my dear. You are not alone. The warmth of his words broke through the storm raging inside you, and you turned to find him standing there, alive.

- Your legs gave way beneath you, and Charles caught you, his arms steady and reassuring. He held you as you wept, his mind offering soothing reassurances that you were safe and that he was still with you. The connection between you, once frayed, grew stronger as he shared in your pain and guided you back to yourself.

- Later, as the battlefield grew quiet, Charles spoke to you softly. “You are remarkable, both in your strength and your love,” he said, his tone filled with admiration. “But grief cannot define you.” His words carried a wisdom that only he could impart, and you nodded, finding solace in his presence.

- Together, you returned to the team, your bond stronger than ever. Charles promised that no matter what challenges came, you would face them together. His unshakable faith in you became your anchor, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, you were never truly alone.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- When you thought Wanda had been killed, the world seemed to unravel. Your emotions became a catalyst for your abilities, and reality itself twisted and bent under the weight of your grief. You lashed out at the enemies surrounding you, determined to make them pay for taking her from you.

- Wanda’s consciousness stirred as she felt the fabric of reality shift. She knew it was you—your power was unmistakable—and her heart broke at the thought of you in such pain. Gathering her strength, she reached out with her magic, creating a beacon of light to guide you back to her.

- At first, you didn’t notice her presence, too consumed by your anger and sorrow to see the light she had conjured. But Wanda persisted, her voice a soft plea that resonated in the air around you. “I’m here, my love. Look at me.”

- The sound of her voice cut through the haze, and you turned to see her standing amidst the chaos. Relief and disbelief flooded through you as you stumbled toward her. Wanda caught you in her arms, her magic wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.

- As the two of you stood together, Wanda whispered soothing words, her hands gently cupping your face. “I’m alive,” she said, her voice filled with both love and reassurance. Her presence calmed the storm within you, and the world around you began to stabilize.

- Later, as you sat together in the aftermath of the battle, Wanda held your hand tightly. “We are stronger together,” she said, her eyes shining with determination. Her words were a promise, and you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- When you thought Pietro had been killed, the world seemed to slow in contrast to the speed of your grief. Your pain erupted into a flurry of action, every movement driven by the need for vengeance. You moved with a singular purpose, tearing through enemies with a ferocity they couldn’t escape.

- Pietro wasn’t down for long. When he came to, his first thought was of you. He spotted you in the distance, your powers wreaking havoc, and he immediately knew what had happened. Despite his own injuries, he pushed himself forward, racing toward you at a speed that blurred the edges of reality.

- It wasn’t easy to stop you. You were lost in your emotions, your every action fueled by the belief that Pietro was gone. But he didn’t give up. He zipped in front of you, grabbing your face with both hands and forcing you to look at him. “I’m here,” he said, his voice urgent. “I’m not going anywhere.”

- Your movements faltered, the sound of his voice breaking through the storm inside you. You stared at him, disbelief etched across your face. When his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, the tension drained from your body, and you collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest.

- Pietro held you tightly, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with a rare vulnerability. “I’m sorry you thought you lost me,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But I’m here, and I’m not leaving you.” His words were a balm to your soul, grounding you in the moment.

- Later, as you both rested in the aftermath, Pietro refused to let go of your hand. “You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted, his tone laced with both concern and affection. His honesty reminded you of how deeply he cared, and you vowed to protect each other, no matter what.

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- When you thought Emma had been killed, the pain was unbearable. Your emotions surged, and your powers manifested in ways you couldn’t control. You fought with a cold, calculated fury, determined to make the enemies responsible suffer for what they had done to her.

- Emma’s telepathic presence was the first thing you felt before you even saw her. She reached into your mind, her voice cool but firm. Enough of this dramatics, she said, her tone laced with both affection and exasperation. I’m alive, darling.

- You froze, her words cutting through the fog of your grief. Turning, you saw her standing amidst the chaos, her diamond form glinting in the light. Relief washed over you as you stumbled toward her, your emotions spilling over in a way you knew she would tease you about later.

- Emma caught you in her arms, her diamond exterior melting away to reveal her softer side. She brushed her fingers through your hair, her voice low and soothing as she reassured you. “You’re stronger than this,” she said, her tone both a challenge and a comfort. “And I won’t have you falling apart over me.”

- Her words brought a smile to your lips, even through the tears. Emma wasn’t one to coddle, but her presence was enough to ground you. She helped you regain your composure, her sharp wit and unwavering confidence reminding you why you loved her.

- Later, as you sat together in the quiet aftermath, Emma looked at you with a rare vulnerability in her eyes. “You’re important to me,” she admitted, her voice softer than usual. “But don’t you dare lose control like that again. We’re in this together.” Her words were both a warning and a promise, and you nodded, knowing she meant every word.

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- When you thought Laura had been killed, a savage rage overtook you. The thought of losing her, someone so important to you, drove you to a breaking point. Your normally measured demeanor was replaced with unrelenting fury, and you launched yourself into the fray, fighting with an intensity you didn’t even know you possessed.

- Laura wasn’t down for long. Her healing factor kicked in, and though her injuries were severe, she pushed through the pain. When she saw you fighting with such reckless abandon, her heart twisted in an unfamiliar mix of pride and worry.

- She approached you cautiously, not wanting to startle you mid-rage. But when her voice broke through the chaos, calling your name with that rare softness only you ever heard, you stopped in your tracks. Turning to her, your chest heaved with exertion and emotion as you saw her alive, battered but breathing.

- “I’m not that easy to get rid of,” she said, her lips quirking into a small smirk. Her words were light, but her eyes were filled with a rare vulnerability. She stepped closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re okay now. I’m here.”

- The adrenaline drained from you in an instant, and you collapsed into her arms. Laura wasn’t one for big displays of affection, but she held you tightly, her claws retracting as she whispered, “I’m sorry you had to think that, even for a second.” Her voice carried an earnestness that melted your anger into relief.

- Later, as you both sat together in the quiet aftermath, she took your hand and squeezed it tightly. “You don’t have to go berserk for me,” she said, her tone teasing but serious. “I’ll always come back. Always.” Her words were a promise, one she intended to keep, no matter the odds.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- When you thought Wade had been killed, the world went silent, as if the universe itself had paused in shock. But grief quickly turned to fury, and you channeled every ounce of your anger into the fight, determined to avenge the man who had brought chaos, laughter, and unexpected love into your life.

- Unbeknownst to you, Wade had already regenerated and was watching your rampage with equal parts admiration and amusement. “Damn,” he muttered to himself. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

- He let you have your moment for a bit before dramatically announcing his presence. “Honey, I’m home!” he shouted, striking a ridiculous pose mid-battle. The sheer absurdity of his reappearance caught you off guard, and you froze, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

- “Miss me?” he said with a wink, dodging an enemy attack as if it were nothing. Your emotions hit you like a freight train—relief, anger, joy—and before you knew it, you were storming toward him. “Whoa, whoa! Easy on the merchandise!” he joked as you threw your arms around him.

- Wade wrapped his arms around you tightly, his usual banter softening as he whispered, “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare ya, but hey, I’m kinda hard to kill.” His voice carried an uncharacteristic sincerity that made you hold him even tighter.

- Later, as the dust settled, he leaned into your space with a playful grin. “So, did I earn some hot, passionate, ‘thank God you’re alive’ kisses, or what?” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling, knowing that only Wade could turn such a harrowing moment into something ridiculous and comforting all at once.

Nathan Summers aka. Cable

- When you thought Nathan had been killed, something inside you snapped. You charged into battle with a ferocity born of desperation, pushing your limits to ensure no one else fell. Every attack, every movement was a testament to your grief and your unwillingness to let his loss be in vain.

- Nathan woke up groggy but alive, his body slowly regenerating thanks to his techno-organic enhancements. When he saw the carnage you were wreaking, his heart clenched. He knew you loved him, but seeing the depth of your despair took him by surprise.

- “Stand down, soldier,” his gruff voice called out, cutting through the chaos. At first, you didn’t believe it—you thought it was your mind playing tricks on you. But then you turned and saw him standing there, bruised but alive, and your world came crashing back into focus.

- You ran to him, your emotions overwhelming you as you buried your face against his chest. Nathan wrapped his arms around you, his massive frame providing the stability you desperately needed. “I’m here,” he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere.”

- As the adrenaline faded, the reality of what had happened hit you both. Nathan cupped your face in his hands, his eyes filled with unspoken promises. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said, his voice heavy with guilt. “But you’re stronger than you know. Don’t forget that.”

- Later, as you sat in the aftermath of the battle, he pulled you close, his arm draped protectively around you. “We’ve got each other’s backs,” he said firmly. “No matter what.” His words were a vow, and you nodded, knowing that no force in the universe could break the bond you shared.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- When you thought Hank had been killed, the rational part of your mind shattered. Logic and reason were replaced by an all-consuming grief that fueled your every move. You fought with a precision that was almost mechanical, each strike a desperate attempt to make up for his absence.

- Hank, though injured, managed to pull himself together. When he saw you fighting so fiercely, his heart ached. He admired your strength but hated that it came from a place of such profound pain.

- “My dear,” his deep, soothing voice called out to you, breaking through the haze. At first, you thought it was a hallucination, a cruel trick of your grief. But then you saw him, standing there with a gentle smile despite his injuries, and your heart nearly stopped.

- You ran to him, tears streaming down your face as you clung to him. Hank wrapped his arms around you, his fur soft and comforting against your skin. “I apologize for worrying you,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “But as you can see, I am quite resilient.”

- His calm demeanor helped bring you back to yourself, and you managed a shaky laugh. “You scared me,” you admitted, your voice breaking. Hank brushed a hand over your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. “And I regret that deeply,” he replied. “But you showed remarkable fortitude. I’m proud of you.”

- Later, as the two of you sat together in the quiet aftermath, Hank held your hand in his massive paw. “No matter what challenges we face, we’ll face them together,” he said, his tone unwavering. His words filled you with a sense of peace, and you knew that as long as he was by your side, you could handle anything.

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wolvietxt · 5 months ago

Text

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇!

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : hurt / comfort, crying reader, awkward logan, age gap, mentions of jean + scott, perspective shifts, sunshine x grumpy, implied mutant!reader wc : 1.4k

it’s late afternoon, and the sky is streaked with shades of orange and pink. you’re sitting on a bench in the park, your usual radiant energy noticeably dimmed. your cheeks and nose are flushed, and your soft sniffles seem to almost echo around. the gentle rustling of leaves and distant chatter of passersby fills the air, but you seem to be lost in your own thoughts.

you’ve had a silly little crush on logan for a long time. it’s so stupid really. it started when you moved into xavier’s school for gifted youngsters as a teacher. you were only a few years older than some of the students, so to be in such a position felt like an honour. logan showed you around right at the start. he wasn’t the kindest, nor the most talkative, but he was by far your favourite. the vanilla - pine - woody musk that emanated off of him had you starry eyed from the beginning. you could tell very quickly that logan wasn’t an extroverted person, but he still cared for the people around him. you saw it in the small gestures like how he restocked cans of storm’s favourite soda and how he made sure that charles always woke up to a mug of tea. how you craved the same kind of attention from him.

but he’s so much older than you, and you suspect he still only has eyes for jean grey, even though she’s been gone a long time. in desperation, you’ve even attempted to emulate her, getting quieter around logan and trying to seem calmer in general. it didn’t work. in fact it did the opposite, he seems even more distanced from you. you’ve invited him round for beers or to watch a new movie you heard him talking to scott about, but he declined all of your offers time and time again. the next day, you overheard him ask scott if he wanted to come round and watch the same movie at his place. god, you’ve never felt so humiliated in your life. he must have a problem with you, but you could never put your finger on why.

you seem to have tried everything - bright smiles, thoughtful gestures, and endless attempts to joke around with him. you’d always believed that if you just kept at it, eventually, logan would see how much you cared for him. but lately, it feels as if you’d been trying too hard, pushing too much, and getting nowhere. your heart feels heavy, burdened with the unspoken fear that maybe you’re just annoying him.

tears begin to well up in your eyes as you recall all the times he’s brushed you off or grumbled at your attempts to get close. you knows he’s not one for affection, but you can’t help wondering if he might never return your feelings. you’re probably just being stupid, thinking that you could melt his cold exterior. a single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away, hoping no one would notice.

but he doesn’t hate you. he couldn’t hate such a sweet thing like you. he’s noticed how you seem overly affectionate in general, but more reserved with him. so has scott. scott seemed to think it was because you had a crush on him and were trying to impress him.

“c’mon logan! you must’ve seen the way she looks at you!” “i have no idea what you’re talking about summers.”

he’d mentioned it over beers back when the thought hadn’t even occurred to logan. a woman like you could never like a man like him. he was always under the impression that it was a one-sided crush, that he was forever destined to be alone. you were fully aware of the things he’d done in his couple hundred years of life. you were much too good for him :( too cheerful and smiley for a grumpy old man.

logan spots you from a distance, your usually happy presence now strangely subdued. he’s used to you being the one to approach him, always with a smile and some kind of cheerful comment. but today, you seem… small. vulnerable, even :(

he’s about to walk away, dismissing it as another one of those feelings he doesn’t want to deal with, but something stops him. maybe it’s the way your shoulders are hunched, or the way you keep wiping at your face. are you crying? the thought unsettles him more than he’d like to admit. he doesn’t do well with emotions - especially not other people’s. but for some strange reason, the idea of you being upset tugs at something deep within him.

steeling himself, he walks over and sits beside you, keeping a respectful distance. you don't notice him at first, too lost in your own thoughts.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice gruff but not unkind. it’s a simple question, but it takes all his willpower to ask it.

you startle at his voice, quickly wiping your eyes. “nothing. i’m fine,” you say, forcing a watery smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. how embarrassing. he already hates you and now he has to see you cry too? you feel terrible for him, and for yourself.

logan frowns. he’s not very good at this, but even he can tell that something’s off. “doesn’t look like nothing,” he mutters, trying to soften his usual harsh tone.

you glance up at him, surprised by the concern in his voice. it’s rare for him to ask you anything, let alone how you’re feeling. for a moment, you consider telling him everything. but then you hesitate. what if he’s just being silly? what if he doesn’t really care? as if he can see into your mind, he softly places a hand on your shoulder and whispers, “there is nothing you could say that would make me stop caring.”

you felt the burning of your waterline filling up again as soon as the words left the tip of his tongue.

“it’s so stupid,” you finally admit, your voice trembling slightly. “i just… i feel like I’m always the one trying, you know? like i’m annoying everyone all the time. and maybe i am. i don’t wanna be a bother, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like nobody cares at all.”

you look away, embarrassed by your own vulnerability. the silence between you two is heavy, and you wonder if you’ve made everything even worse by opening up to him.

logan feels like he’s been punched in the gut. even with his limited emotional range, he can assume you’re mostly talking about him. everybody else is quick to reciprocate your attention. everyday he feels like you’re curled up with someone new. he wishes it could be him. he’s never been good with words, especially not the ones that matter, but he never in a million years meant to contribute to you feeling like this. he’s spent so long building walls around himself that he didn’t realise how much they’ve been hurting you.

“y/n…” he starts, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m not… very good at this. at any of this. i’ve been alone for a very long time, and i guess… i don’t know how to show you that i care. but i do. much more than you know.”

he hesitates, searching for the right words. “you’re not a bother. you never have been, not to me, not to anyone. i just… it’s hard for me to open up. but that doesn’t mean i don’t… that i don’t appreciate you. i do. a lot.”

it’s not the most perfect confession, but it’s honest. he hopes it’s enough.

you turn to him, your eyes wide with surprise. you can see the sincerity in his expression, the awkwardness of a man trying to navigate unfamiliar territory. it’s more than you would ever expect to hear from him, and your heart swells with an unknown feeling.

you reach out, gently placing your hand on top of his. “thank you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth. “that means more to me than you know.”

logan stiffens at the contact but doesn’t pull away. instead, he squeezes your hand awkwardly, a silent promise that he’s going to try. it’s a small gesture, but to you, it’s everything.

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starboye · 5 months ago

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starring: charles xavier x male reader x scott summers x logan howlett

request: I wanna be like Logan so badly (I want to be dicked down by every xmen)

warnings: smut, reader passed around, blow job (scott receiving), cursing, some rough sex, unprotected sex

this but with reader getting passed around the mansion by the x men, mainly scott, logan, and charles just calling you to their room through the night to empty their balls. first it was charles telepathically calling you "y/nnn" he said in a sing songy tone "yes charles" you say rolling your eyes, you were just trying to read a little before going to bed but it seemed like charles knew just when you'd be most calm just to get you to come to his room.

"would you mind making a quick trip for some alone time" he asks and you could just hear it in his voice, the smugness of him "and why would i want to do that" you ask still reading your book "it'll only be really quick darling" he croons and after a little consideration you agree and quietly make your way to charles room down the hall walking into him already pumping his cock in his hand, charles had you moaning and whimpering as he made you ride his dick, flashing images of your past hookups into your mind.

making you cum three times before he tuckers himself out and thanks you for your help by giving you a couple kisses and sending you on your way but soon you're getting called over by scott, pulling you into his room and begging you to suck him off after hearing you fuck charles, you agree just to get him to stop pestering you, dropping to your knees and pulling his cock out to start throating it back and forth while scott tried to hold in his whiny moans.

but there was a certain someone listening in on all of it but we'll get to that later, the man that was scott was slow;y thrusting into you mouth, aching to cum in your mouth already "m'sorrry for doing this it's just jeans been gone for so long" a slew of apologies fall from his mouth as he grips your hair and shoves his cum down your throat, you gagging at the forcefulness of the man "you done" you ask wiping your mouth of his cum "mhm" he whimpers and you walk out from his room just to get tugged by logan into his room.

"you open to take another cock" he whispers fondling your ass "for you? always" you roll your eyes before logan throws you onto the bed and rips off your underwear to reveal your ruined ass "damn wheels did a good job on you" logan smirks slapping your ass before he's thrusting into you at an ungodly rate for someone his age but none the less you take every inch of his aching cock while his balls slap against your ass turning you into a moaning mess that i think anyone in the hall could hear but at the time logan thought shoving your face into a pillow was a good idea.

and sooner than expected logan was flooding you even fuller with his cum "shit you sure know how to milk guys" logan huffs pulling out of you with small shudders through his body "thank you" you pant taking a moment to regain your breath "stay in here tonight" logan asks rubbing your back soothingly "as much as i would love to i know how you get in the morning and i would much rather be able to walk tomorrow" you laugh wrapping a towel around you waist after seeing your torn underwear and walking back to your room to plop down on your bed, quickly dozing off from the exhausting task of draining these men.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

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tinalbion · 5 months ago

Text

'𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, fem!Reader, mutant!Reader, unprotected p in v, choking, biting, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), jealousy, canon typical language, no use of y/n,

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 10k (got a LITTLE carried away, oops)

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: After a successful mission, you return to the mansion to an annoyed Wolverine, who isn't happy with the time you've been spending with Scott Summers. You offer to hang out with him since you two are incredibly close, and that leads to a game of pool, and your eyes begin to wander while you're both flirting like crazy. You're afraid to make the first move, so maybe Logan will do it for you.

You had just gotten back from a mission that Professor Xavier had asked you to attend, and naturally, he had paired you up with someone who could challenge your growing capabilities, so he had you escort Scott Summers, who had a completely different skill set than you. He figured that if you could figure out how to work together, it would be useful to you in the future, and you thought he had a point when he put it in that context. The truth was, you and Scott didn't get along, more so you were over the top for his calm demeanor. You had a mouth on you, said what you thought, and your fighting was a bit too sloppy for his taste. He had constantly compared you to Logan Howlett, your ‘other half’, as he referred to him behind your backs.

You and Logan had become thick as thieves after you’d initially joined the X-Men, many people speculated that you two were ‘an item’, but as much as you would have wanted that, there would be no way Logan would agree. You and Logan constantly bickered, joked around, and enjoyed each other's company to the point that it was hard for others to be around you when you were in a room together. Your personalities melded well enough that you worked well with one another.

After the initial headache of having to deal with your loud comments of distaste for the company during this mission, Scott seemed to notice your distraction as you looked around and surveyed the area, and he felt that maybe he'd have some peace and quiet as you acquainted yourself with the area. You and Scott went head-on into the mission, learning to depend on one another, and you learned quite a bit now that your attention was solely focused on saving another like you; a mutant, a child.

With Scott's help, you were able to easily maneuver through the others who were keeping the small girl hostage, using your powers to easily dispose of the threats with Scott alongside you, giving you tips and ideas to use as he fought alongside you. Just this once, you thought, he wasn’t all that bad.

Logan scowled as Scott patted you on your back once you entered the mansion, the man walked up behind you as he kept his shielded eyes glued to you. You helped save a mutant kid on a mission and Scott just couldn’t stop singing your praises since you arrived back, and Logan wasn’t too fond of the way Scott was lingering around you. In Logan’s mind, he should be the one singing your praises, not Scott. He should be the one doting on you and soaking up all of your time, only if he wasn't so stubborn and allowed himself to break that barrier down once in a while.

He waited until you had walked away from the small group that greeted you, all gathered to see how your mission had gone, and the little girl had followed Scott to go and meet the Professor, which left you smiling and talking to the group that soon began to disperse.

“You ‘n Slim been getting real familiar lately,” Logan said, not even attempting to hide his bitterness as he walked up to you, having finished his own mission not even twenty minutes ago.

You smiled over at Scott as he led the little girl away and nodded as he praised you once more, wanting to show genuine thanks, but as soon as you saw Logan, your smile grew wide. Without hesitation, you ran up to him to greet him and waved. "Hey, Logan!" His comment about Scott made you laugh. "Ah, well, Charles has been making him teach me some stuff out in the field.”

Logan’s sour mood was instantly lifted as you ran up to him. He smiled back at you, the annoyance he felt from earlier gone now that you were in front of him, looking adorable as usual. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, trying to remain stoic.

“What kinda stuff he been teaching ya?” he replied, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

You looked over at Logan and smiled warmly, always enjoying when he was near you. "Well, mostly combat, but I don't have his mutation so I have to do more up close combat than what he does.” You sighed with frustration at the entire situation, but you remained as positive as you could, thankful for the opportunities.

Logan nodded his head as he listened intently, but he couldn’t deny that that answer displeased him a little; the thought of Cyclops showing you how to fight hand-to-hand combat made his blood boil, and he hated to think about him so close to you like that. He’d seen the way Scott looked at you, he knew his thoughts, or what any guy would do to be near a woman in such a situation. Wasn't having Jean enough to satisfy him?

“Yeah? He show ya all the right moves yet, darlin’?” He asked, trying to remain casual.

"Well, no," you confessed and leaned in closer. "He's kinda bad at it," you said in a dramatic whisper, rolling your eyes for even more dramatic effect.

Logan let out a sharp bark of laughter. That was the answer he wanted to hear. He was always looking for a reason to tear into Scott. "Yeah? Well, maybe you oughtta be spendin’ a little more time trainin’ with ol’ Wolvie here. He’ll show ya some much better moves than Cyclops ever could," he replied, leaning in closer to keep his voice down.

"Well that's the funny thing, I did request you on field missions and the Professor said no, that I needed to focus…”

Logan’s smile immediately dropped. He frowned deeply at the mention of Charles. Of course, the Professor would say something like that… "Yeah? What’d he say, exactly?" He asked, his tone growing serious as his irritation returned thinking of you with Scott.

"Well, he said I'd only be paying attention to you, and not actually working, goofing off." You huffed and crossed your arms. "He says we mess around too much, don't take anything seriously when we're together.”

Logan felt his face heat up at your words. Well, at least it wasn’t because you were paying too much attention to Scott. He huffed in slight annoyance. “So, what? He sayin’ you’d be too distracted around me to focus on a mission or somethin’? Pfft. Sounds like a load a’ bullshit to me.” He looked away, avoiding your gaze as he crossed his arm over his chest, mimicking you.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying! You're better at hand-to-hand and I wanted you to teach me," you huffed in irritation. “I take missions seriously, the Professor should know that.”

Logan’s frown morphed into a grin upon hearing that. It felt good to hear you say that and he had the perfect response for your anger. “Well, I’m sure the Professor won’t mind if we sparred sometimes, huh?” He said, his grin growing wider. “We could prove it to him when we kick some ass together.”

"Well, no, I don't think he'd mind that. We could do that in the danger room whenever you'd want. I bet you could teach me to throw a real punch," you said with a smirk. "Still can't believe the Professor said no though…"

“Yeah? You wanna learn how to throw a real punch, huh?” He chuckled to himself. He loved it when you got like this: feisty and ready for a fight. The thought of you taking swings at him? That was… exciting.

“Y’know, I bet I could teach ya a bunch of stuff he don’t want ya to know. Maybe he’s scared of how good of a fighter I’ll make you,” he teased, leaning in closer to you.

You couldn't help but giggle as you looked over at Logan. "Mhm maybe, but he also said–" You puffed up your chest, trying to imitate the Professor as best as you could. "You should never just hone your gifts, but learn to work well with others' gifts, then you won't have a weakness when you have each other."

Logan couldn’t help but burst with laughter at hearing your impression of Charles. “Eh that’s a buncha bullshit,” he barked, rolling his eyes. He always preferred to work alone. The thought of relying on your own strength, your own fighting ability, seemed more practical to him. “So, what, he expects you to get all buddy-buddy with Slim?” He asked, a hint of jealousy lingering in his voice.

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders, not aware of the underlying irritation Logan felt. "Apparently. He said our mutations are opposite and his is far-ranged while mine is more close-ranged. I need to learn to compliment others in battle if we want to thrive."

You groaned again, just wanting to hang out with your friend, Logan. The friend you had intense feelings for. Maybe Charles knew about that and intended to keep you distant so you wouldn't do anything stupid.

Logan couldn’t help the eye roll at that comment. Opposites, huh? That seemed to bother him even more. He just KNEW Scott wanted to get his hands on you.

“Yeah? Well, he sure don’t mind gettin’ his hands on you, huh?” He grumbled, under his breath. He was really trying to hold back his jealousy, but the thought of you learning how to fight with Cyclops… just didn’t seem fair.

You took his comment as a little odd, but maybe he was just looking out for you. "Well, I think he was just being nice, I wouldn't take it that far, Logan," you scoffed, looking away from him with a smirk. “Besides, he's got Jean,” you said as if her name left a sour taste in your mouth.

Logan’s frown deepened, his jealousy rising with every word you spoke, not to mention the slightly uncomfortable feeling that stung him when you mentioned Jean. He grumbled, his irritation growing rapidly as you dismissed his worries.

“Oh yeah?” He said through clenched teeth. “How is it that you don’t see the way he looks at you? He’s always got his eye on you. ‘Nice’, my ass.”

"I never see it because I don't look at him," you pointed out to him. “And again, he's got Jean.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as you responded, his hands clenching into tight fists. He knew you were oblivious to the way Scott was acting around you, even if it seemed so obvious to him, even if he had Jean. What was stopping him from acting that way with you when he once acted that way with Jean?

“Yeah, and you’re also not seein’ that it ain’t just him,” he retorted, leaning back against the sofa. “He ain’t the only one who’s got his eye on you.”

This took you slightly off guard, but you just chalked it up to Logan really disliking Scott. "What you seem to not understand is I'm not looking at Scott because I'm looking at you," you confessed with a softened gaze.

Logan froze as the words came out of your mouth. His face heated up, his irritation and jealousy replaced with surprise and a hint of hope. He wasn’t sure if he heard you right. Did you really just say you were looking at… him? He was stunned. He didn’t know what to say, so you had rendered him speechless for once.

You scoffed at his reaction and waved your hand in front of his face. "Earth to Howlett," you giggled. "What, honey badger got your tongue?”

Logan snapped out of his daze, his cheeks turning a soft shade of red. He grumbled under his breath, the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment. “Oh, shut up,” he muttered, ducking his head to avoid your gaze. His heart was practically leaping out of his chest and you were just laughing at him.

"Mhm you're cute when you get flustered," you said softly leaning closer to him, resting your shoulder against his as you nudged him gently.

Logan was sure his cheeks were a full-blown shade of red at this point. He was not used to being called “cute”, and he definitely wasn’t used to people getting so close to him, let alone someone he secretly adored.

He cleared his throat and tried to maintain a casual demeanor, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Yeah? You, uh… think I’m cute?” He questioned, his voice wavering a bit.

"Oh absolutely, and ruggedly handsome, and stunning… I could go on." You said, listing them off as you tapped your fingers, that large shit-eating grin on your face, knowing very well it got under his skin.

Now that did it. Logan’s face was on fire. Never, in his entire life, had someone ever lay on the compliments so thick, certainly not one as sweet and gorgeous as you. He swallowed hard and tried to play it off as his usual careless demeanor. He was used to messing around with you, so why was it really getting to him today? “Aw, shut up,” he grumbled, shifting awkwardly against the wall.

You couldn't help but laugh at his cool demeanor, so you shrugged as you pushed yourself away from the wall, smiling wide as you looked back at him. "Oops, sorry," you said playfully. "I'll meet you back in the living area. I gotta go and check in with the Professor."

Logan didn’t want you to leave just yet, not when you were making his heart race like that. He let out a sigh and nodded his head, trying to act as stoic as possible. “Yeah, alright. You go on ‘n do that,” he mumbled.

"I'll see you in like, ten minutes then! Maybe we could have a beer," you offered and waved sweetly at him as you turned around to start to walk off, smiling wide.

Truthfully, you loved being around Logan, but you had no idea if you could ever admit that to anyone, they wouldn't understand the charm he had that you adored so much. With how quickly you two got on, it was a wonder that you were able to keep your thoughts as pure as they had been for so long, but lately, something about Logan getting all hot and bothered by you hanging around Scott made you realize just how much Logan truly meant to you.

Logan watched you walk away, his eyes lingering a moment too long on your figure. He mentally scolded himself for being so damn affected by you. It was so uncharacteristic of him, and yet, he couldn’t help himself. He was downright swooning. When you offered to have a beer with him, he leaped at the opportunity, it was the perfect moment to spend some time together. Away from Scott and the others, the way Logan preferred it.

“Yeah,” he replied, managing a smirk. “Sounds good, darlin’.”

So you went to talk to the professor and debrief him on the job you and Scott had done, and you did voice your ideas about working with others on the team to ‘spice things up’, as you worded it, and the Professor knew what you were getting at. He stopped you mid-sentence and looked at you with a soft stare.

"I know you want to work with Logan,” he began. “When you're ready, you'll be able to handle it," the professor explained. “I know it may seem frustrating, but Logan does have his disadvantages when it comes to missions, he's still getting used to working as a team, and sometimes he makes a decision that isn't the best for everyone involved.”

You grumbled in annoyance but nodded to the professor, so you thanked him and made your way to the living area to meet back with Logan.

Logan was already sitting on the couch in the living quarters, leaning back with a beer in hand, when you finally walked in. His heart immediately thumped as he laid eyes on you, and he felt his cheeks heat up. He mentally cursed himself again, he needed to keep it together. He didn’t want you to think you had this much of an effect on him, but he'd be lying if he said you didn't.

Logan patted the cushion next to him and gestured for you to join him. “C’mere, darlin’,” he said, his voice rough.

With a smile, you followed his instructions and plopped right down next to him, grabbing a beer from the table. "Ugh, the professor denied my request again," you complained to him.

Logan grunted in irritation as you sat down beside him, so he took a sip of his beer, his other hand tapping on the bottle. “He did, huh? I’m not surprised.” He rolled his eyes, taking another swig. “What’d he say this time?”

“He said you don't ‘play nice’ working in team environments, so until there's a chance that people get hurt when you make a wrong decision, it's dangerous. But you're not like that!” You huffed, popping the bottle open and sipping it fast. "I don't get it, I feel like I'm ready and you wouldn't do anything stupid to get someone hurt, I don't understand.”

Logan sighed and shook his head in agreement. He was frustrated, too. He didn’t understand why the Professor was so adamant on denying your request. He leaned back on the couch and ran a hand through his hair. “I feel the same. You definitely got potential if things go south, you’re a quick learner. Way quicker than the others, that’s for damn sure.” He stole a glance at you, watching you from the corner of his eye, all he wanted was to spend more time with you. “And as for me, we'll, he ain't wrong, exactly… teamwork ain't my strong suit.”

“Well, still, you wouldn't get anyone hurt on purpose, I know you well enough to vouch for you there.” You grumbled again and took a long sip of your beer, hating the taste of it, but you stuck it out. When you looked back over at Logan, you offered a small smile. "How was your mission, at least?”

Logan chuckled and shook his head. You were feisty, he liked that about you. It was endearing to see how determined you were to get what you wanted. He shrugged his shoulders in response to your question.

“Fine, I suppose. We weren’t there for long, took out the bots, and got out. Nothin’ too major. Nothin’ I needed Cyclops to help me with,” he replied with a scoff. He took another drink of his beer and glanced over at you. “How ‘bout you? Missions have seemed to be goin’ smoothly for you recently, huh?”

You couldn't help but scoff at his comment and looked over at the window, sighing. "Yeah, so far, it's been fun being out in the field, though, I like being more hands-on."

Yeah, that was one thing he adored about you. Your need for combat and to prove yourself as a capable fighter, it wasn’t for everyone, but you were determined to get your hands dirty. Logan couldn’t help the smirk spreading across his face. “Damn right, that's where all the fun is, out in the field. And you’ll get your chance, just gotta wait until the Professor pulls his head out of his ass and lets you,” he snickered.

You giggled at his comment and shook your head. "Yeah, we'll see, but I do hope we can work together one day, oh I bet going on a mission with you would be so fun!”

The fact you wanted to work with him on a mission was intriguing, to say the very least, but he almost felt a sense of pride seeing you want to work with him. “You’re full of surprises, ain’t ya, kid?” He asked with a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Just call me a fun house I guess," You joked. "So, how does Wolverine spend his downtime after missions?" You asked.

Logan scratched the stubble on his chin and chuckled. “Well, I usually like to keep it low-key. Some drinks, maybe head to the bar or a game of pool. Nothin’ too crazy.” He eyed you with a sly smirk.

"Oh, you play pool?" You asked with a glint of excitement in your eyes.

Logan chuckled and nodded, taking note of the sudden excitement in your eyes. “Yeah, I’m damn good at it, too,” he boasted, a cocky grin spreading across his face. He leaned in a little closer to you. “You play?”

"I play for fun, so I'm not great. I'd be down to get some pointers from you if you're not busy," you offered with a smile.

Logan could barely contain his excitement. You wanted him to teach you how to play pool? He’d be spending even more time with you, and it would give him the perfect opportunity to have you all to himself.

“Of course, I’ve got time, darlin’, I’ll give you all the pointers you need. I’ll make a pool shark outta you in no time,” he said, his voice low and suggestive.

You adored his charm, truly, you couldn’t help but giggle and nudge him with your arm. "Oh, Logan, you're something else," you laughed and patted his knee as you stood up in one swift motion. "C'mon! Wanna do it now?”

Logan chuckled at your comment and felt his heart leap as you patted his knee. He absolutely loved when you touched him. He stood up and smirked at you, his eyes filled with a wicked gleam. “Hell yes, let’s go. I can’t wait to show you all my techniques,” he said, his voice thick with innuendo.

"Hell YES, let's go! I got the beers," You said with excitement and yanked the six-pack from the table. You didn't take offense or think it weird when Logan flirted, he was usually like that with you, but every time he'd done so, it made you feel warm and fuzzy.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm. Your excitement was contagious, and it only fueled his own desire to spend time with you even more. He gestured for you to lead the way, his eyes scanning your figure. “Lead the way, doll. I’m right behind ya,” he said with a smirk, following behind you with a cocky gait.

You couldn't hide the wide smile as you walked along with the beer in tow, weaving through the halls towards the rec room. You'd look back to make sure Logan was still following, feeling excitement take over your entire body, also feeling the fluttery feeling in your stomach.

Logan followed you through the halls, his heart racing with every step, and he watched as you looked back at him, your smile making his stomach flutter. He kept his gaze fixated on you, his eyes tracing the curve of your hips as you walked ahead of him. He found himself wondering what it would be like to push you up against a wall and kiss you senseless… ‘What the hell is wrong with you? She won't see you that way, you're never gonna have a shot’. He quickly shook the thought from his head, reminding himself to keep it together.

You had found the room and pushed the doors open, turning on the lights as you waited for Logan. You let out a satisfied hum when you spotted the pool table and walked up to it, placing the beers off to the side as you started shifting through the pool cues.

Logan followed you into the rec room, his eyes scanning over the pool table with a cocky grin. He sauntered over to you, his gaze fixated on your movements as you rummaged around the table for pool cues. He came up behind you, his body mere inches from yours, his breath hot against your neck as he spoke. “I hope you’re ready to get schooled, doll,” he teased, his voice low and hoarse.

As you found the pool chalk after you found a cue stick that worked to your liking, you then turned to Logan, shooting him a raised eyebrow. You weren't surprised by his cockiness but also felt rather playful, so you figured you'd play back.

"You're not supposed to school me yet, Howlett, you gotta teach me!" You huffed, shooting him a faux frown.

Logan chuckled, his eyes roaming over your playful expression. He loved it when you got feisty with him. It only made him want you even more. He smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh, trust me, doll, I plan to teach you. But first, I gotta show you some of my moves. Consider it a demonstration of just how good I really am.” He moved closer, his body practically pressed against yours as he reached around you to grab his cue stick.

When he did things like this, you couldn't help but blush a little, but when he reached over you to grab his pool cue, his body was so close to yours and you couldn't find the sass to give him right then, he was so close. He did this to get you flustered, but he wasn’t actually flirting with you to see where it led, was he?

Logan smirked as he noticed the blush growing on your face. He loved seeing how flustered he made you, how simple close proximity had you acting so shy. He couldn’t help but lean in even closer, his body pressing against yours. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. “You alright, doll? Suddenly losing your spunk?” he teased.

"Well you're the one distracting me on purpose, Wolvie," you huffed and slipped away from him, smiling wickedly as you walked around the table with your cue.

Logan chuckled, his smirk growing wider as you slipped away from him. You were always so determined and feisty. He watched as you walked around the table. “Mmm, maybe I am. But I’m just teachin’ you how to focus under distractions.”He casually leaned against the side of the pool table, his gaze never leaving you.

"Oh is that it?" You laughed and watched him as he got ready to strike the formation. "Very good first lesson, truly.”

Logan chuckled, his eyes locked onto yours. He loved your sassy comebacks. It only fueled his desire to prove himself to you. He smirked, his hand poised to strike. “Oh, doll, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. I’m just gettin’ started. Let’s see how well you deal under more distractions.” He leaned closer to you, his voice dipped low. “Because there’s a lot more where that came from.”

"Mhm, I already know that, but I think you're the one who's gonna have to pay attention to the table, bub," you teased as you watched from the side of the table.

Logan chuckled, his ego a little bruised by your comment. He had to admit, he loved your boldness, you weren’t intimidated by him in the slightest. In fact, it seemed like you loved challenging him, which only made him want to try even harder to get under your skin.

He smirked, his eyes darkened with a hint of arrogance. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, doll. I can focus just fine, even with a distraction as beautiful as you.”

You chuckled awkwardly, looking away as you reveled in the compliments he showered you with. You knew Logan flirted a lot, you loved it when he did, and you just figured he only flirted to tease you. He didn't know you had developed feelings for him, but you flirted in return, it was a fun back-and-forth you both seemed to enjoy.

"Pfft okay, bub, prove it. Get a ball in a pocket.”

Logan's heart thudded in his chest as he watched you react to his compliment. He loved seeing the way your cheeks flushed just slightly, how your eyes darted away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. He knew you were used to his flirting, but every time he did it, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you'd begin to see how serious he really was behind it all.

The sight of you leaning against your cue, your eyebrows raised in challenge, sent a wave of desire through his body. You were so damn feisty, so damn beautiful. He had a hard time being as cool as he was when you were around, you just knew how to push all the right buttons. He chuckled and focused his gaze back on the table, took a step forward, his body moving gracefully as he lined up his shot.

You watched his body language as he leaned across the table the way he took aim with his cue, you made sure to watch, take note, see how he made it work. What you didn't expect was to really, really enjoy the sight of him over the pool table.

Logan could feel your eyes on him as he leaned over the pool table, and could sense your gaze tracing every movement of his body. He felt a thrill run through him, loving the attention you were giving him. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, but he couldn’t ignore the way your eyes were burning into him. The way you were watching him so intently. It made it extremely hard to concentrate. He steadied himself, lining up the shot, but he couldn’t help but smirk at your obvious admiration.

You watched as he hesitated, and you couldn't hide the wide smile on your face. "What's wrong, Howlett? Distracted?" You teased as you leaned over to look at him with a wide smile.

Logan couldn't help but chuckle as you leaned forward to tease him. Your proximity was driving him wild. He could practically feel your breath on his face. He looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Distracted? Me? Never. Just makin' sure you're enjoyin’ the view, doll.”

"Mhm, sure, sure," you laughed, loving his banter. "Take the shot before I push you out of the way and go," you warned playfully.

Logan chuckled, his heart racing as you taunted him. You were really testing his limits, but he loved every second of it.

He shook his head, his smirk widening. “Oh no ya don’t. You ain’t touchin’ this table till I’m done with it.” He steadied himself again, determined to prove himself. He aimed and took the shot, sinking the ball into the corner pocket with ease.

Your eyebrows raised as you watched him sink a ball into the pocket, you then hummed with a satisfied tone. "Wow, that's impressive, Logan, so, any tips I should know?"

Logan couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you praised his shot. Your words fueled his ego, and he loved showing off for you. He leaned on his cue, a smug smile on his face. “Mmm, tips? Sure, lemme see.”

He walked over to you, his body close enough to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. He placed a hand on your hip, positioning you in front of him.

Your face blushed immediately, you bit your lip as he positioned you at the table, and you tried to focus on the table, but his body radiated so much warmth, and he was so close, that you had a tough time concentrating.

"O-Okay, so like this?"

Logan noticed the flush of color on your cheeks as he moved you into position, and he couldn't help but wear a cocky smile. He loved the way you reacted to his touch, so visibly flustered by his mere presence. He leaned in closer so his chest brushed against your back. “Yeah, doll, that's good. Keep your eye on the target.” His hand remained on your hip, his touch light yet firm as he guided you.

"Okay, so you sank a solid color, I got striped, sooooo," you drew out, "I'll try for the blue," you said and aimed your cue. You tried not to focus too much on Logan's hand on your hip, wondering just how good his hand would feel somewhere else.

Logan watched intently as you lined up your cue, trying to keep his thoughts from straying to other places. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, the way your breath hitched as he pressed closer to you.

He leaned in, his chin hovering above your shoulder as he spoke, his voice low. “Yeah, try for the blue, doll. Keep it simple for now.” He tried to ignore the way your body felt against his, how badly he wanted to take you right on the pool table.

You nodded and took a deep breath in, then released the breath as soon as the cue hit the white ball, it glided across the table and into a fray of balls, hitting the blue-striped one against the side of the table, and sure enough, it fell into the corner pocket.

"YES!” You shouted as you raised a fist into the air.

Logan chuckled, a smile spreading across his face as he watched the blue ball fall into the corner pocket. He couldn't help but feel proud of you, watching your excitement as you celebrated your accomplishment.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above the shell of your ear. “Mmm, good job, doll. That was a solid shot.” His hand on your hip tightened, pulling you closer to him, his chest pressed against your back.

"Wolvie, you can... let me go if you want... or not... your choice," you hummed softly, your face turning slightly to look at him over your shoulder. You felt so flustered, he’d never been this bold before, being so close to you like this, his hands pressed against you in such a way…

Logan's heart thumped in his chest as he heard your soft voice, his body practically humming with want. His hand on your hip tightened, pulling you closer against him. He let out a soft chuckle, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you want me to let go?” His voice was low, dripping with desire. He knew he was walking a fine line, but he couldn't bring himself to pull back.

"I... not really," you confessed softly.

Logan’s breath hitched in his chest as he heard your confession, your voice barely above a whisper. It was all he needed to hear, and all he could do was let out a low groan, his hand on your hip pulling you closer. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

"I haven't done anything," you said with a small chuckle. "How do I drive you crazy?” you asked, knowing very well what you did, and how you would flirt relentlessly with him, wanting to get a reaction.

Logan chuckled at your response, his hand tracing lazy circles on your hip. “Oh, doll, believe me, you don’t have to do anything. Just your presence, your scent, the sound of your voice…” He leaned in, his lips hovering just above the skin of your neck, his voice dark and rough. “It’s all enough to drive a man mad.”

"If I knew any better, Wolvie, I'd say you have a thing for me..." You said with a gentle tone, your face close to his as you stared over at him, your expression filled with hesitance and desire.

Logan let out a soft laugh, his hand on your hip gripping you tighter. “And what if I do? What if I’ve been wanting you, desiring you, practically since we met?” His gaze darkened, his eyes locked onto yours. There was no denying the desire he felt for you, he had been fighting it for ages now. But having you this close, hearing your words, it made it damn near impossible to resist.

"Then I'd say you're a fool for not letting me know sooner," you huffed, almost glaring at him. "Here I thought I was dumb to flirt with you, and you never made a move, so I thought you weren't interested.”

Logan shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, I have been interested, more than interested. I just didn’t think you’d be interested in a damaged, pissed-off man like me. But trust me, I haven’t been able to get you outta my head since I laid eyes on you.”

"Hey, you're not all of that," you replied sternly. "You're more than that, Logan. Why’d you think that's all there is to you?”

Logan looked down at you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and hesitation. He knew you saw more in him than just his flaws and baggage, but it was hard for him to see past it all himself.

“I’ve done a lot of bad things, things I’m not proud of. I just thought someone like you wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. I thought it was better to just admire you from afar than risk ruining something by being my usual, broken self.”

"You aren't ruining a damn thing, Logan, come on," you said and fully turned to face him, looking into his deep eyes. "Why do you think I always wanna be near you? Play pool, and drink beer, I like you, Logan. You're a damn angry man, but I like it, there's more under all that.”

Logan's heart thudded in his chest as you faced him, your words piercing straight to his soul. He couldn’t believe that you truly wanted him, despite all the bad he thought he was. His hand on your hip moved up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips.

“Damn it, you really think there’s more to me, don’t you?”

"Hell yeah I do," you chuckled with a large smile, closing your eyes once his hand cupped your cheek. "You think I'd prefer to be around you if I didn't? Everyone told me how much of a hot head you were, but I don't care what others say, I found out for myself that there's more to you than that. I’m never wrong.”

He couldn’t resist your sweet temptations any longer, he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, not with you being so close to him, scrambling his senses. He pulled your face close to his and captured your lips in a desperate kiss, one that conveyed the desire he had for you, wanting to taste you.

You accepted your fate and gasped against his lips, melted against his touch, incredibly happy that this was finally happening. Your hand was placed against his cheek and you kissed him back, the passion and intensity sparking between you both.

The feel of your lips against his was everything he had dreamed of. He let out a low moan as he deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to taste you, his hand on your hip pulling you impossibly closer to his body. He broke the kiss only long enough to gasp out, "You have no idea how long I've wanted this. Wanted you.”

You couldn’t hide the moan against his mouth once his tongue glided across your lips, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach. When he pulled away, he left you breathless and smiling like an idiot. "I... me too, Logan," you whispered.

Seeing you breathless and smiling up at him, it filled Logan with a primal sense of satisfaction. Knowing that he was the one making you feel this way felt so damn good. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "You don't know how many times I've fantasized about this, doll. To have you this close to me, in my arms. It feels like a damn dream.”

"Mhm yeah? You fantasized about me?" you asked curiously, a flirtatious tone in your voice. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him, smiling up at him sweetly.

The sound of your flirtatious tone sent a shiver down Logan's spine. He could feel his body responding to your touch, to the way you were looking up at him. He let out a deep chuckle, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Oh, you have no idea. I've fantasized about you in ways you can't even imagine." He leaned in, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck. "And I plan on making every one of them come true.”

You looked at him in surprise, your eyes wide and your cheeks beet red. "O-Oh, really? Logan, I had no idea you were such a dirty dog," you teased, trying to lighten the mood. You got nervous whenever someone spoke in such a flirtatious way, but NO ONE had ever spoken to you like Logan had.

Logan chuckled at your surprise, loving the way your cheeks flushed at his words. He loved the way he could make you blush, and how easily he could get a reaction out of you. “Oh, I’m a damn dirty dog, alright,” he whispered against your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. He pulled you even closer, his body flush against yours. “And I plan on proving it to you damn soon, if you’re up for it, that is.”

Here you were, pressed against the pool table and Logan’s broad frame, staring into his eyes, not believing a word coming from his mouth was real. You had to have been dreaming… He was asking for your permission to prove himself, your thighs pressed together as if you could hide the desire growing between them.

He took a slight step back to give you some space, a feral look in his eyes as he reached out and grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. "No," he said, his voice dripping with need. "Don’t hide that from me, I can…smell just how wet you are, princess. Your room, now.”

You made the snap decision right then and there, your entire resolve snapping, being taken over. “Yes, sir…” you replied and grabbed his hand, pulling him quickly to your room.

When you both reached your room, Logan pushed the door closed behind him as he pulled you back into his grasp, pushing you against the door while almost lifting you from the floor. His lips devoured you, biting and licking at your lips, trailing down to your jaw. All you could do was be at his mercy, he was so strong, and you could feel that primal urge taking over. He couldn’t think straight. The sight of you, your flirting all day, your smell, everything about you set him off and pushed him to the edge. His hands moved up your body, gripped your shirt, and roughly yanked it off of you. He was like a different person now that it was just you two, and you allowed yourself to be the receiving end of his demands because all you wanted right now was him.

His hands slid across your skin as he kept you pushed against the wall, one hand slowly reached down to grab your leg and lift it to his waist. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing his hips against yours, prodding you with the obvious erection in his jeans. Logan couldn’t stop himself from sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you against him as he rubbed against your clothed sex, releasing a guttural sound from his lips.

All while you were helpless beneath him, feeling how this incredibly strong man could hoist you up, move you, pin you as if you weighed nothing. You were at his mercy and you were loving every moment of it. “Logan, please, need you, no teasing,” you whined, feeling his mouth trail down to your neck, kissing and biting you there, slowly making his way back up to your jaw.

“Yeah? You don’t want me to take my time with you?” He laughed, nuzzling your throat with his nose before he brought down his mouth to you again.

You gasped and moaned his name over and over, trying to get him to stop being such a tease, but he wasn’t letting up, not until he wanted to. Logan hummed against your throat, tasting your skin, smelling your scent all over him, the feeling vibrated against your throat which only sent a jolt of need through you.

He adjusted and held you up with one arm, cradling you against him and the wall as he slipped his other hand between you both, feeling just how soaked you were through your shorts. “Damn, princess, my nose never lies, you are soaked.” He laughed at the amount that was already on his fingers, so he decided it was high time to feel you. He moved through the shorts and pushed aside the underwear, plunging two fingers deep within you, curling into your cunt.

Your body tensed as your nails dug deep into his shoulder, finally feeling a sliver of what he could offer to you, and you were already at his mercy. “Holy shit, Logan,” you whined, your voice cracking as your hips instinctively rolled against his hand.

“Mhm, that’s right, darlin’, ride my fingers and show me how much you want it,” he said gruffly beside your ear, smiling that cocky-ass smile. He managed to press his thumb against your clit and rub, causing your body to jerk beneath him, and it only fueled him to continue.

You did as he asked, riding his fingers as best as you could from this angle as he assisted you, pumping them in and out, curling deep to reach the spot you desired. Logan watched your face contorted with pleasure, your juices coating his hand as you needily moved against him. He watched with intensity, feeling his own excitement staining the front of his jeans as he added a third finger into the mix, stretching you out.

“Oh, fuck, Logan, feels so good…” You moaned out, and your head fell forward, resting on his shoulder as he continued to hold you in place. Your body felt heavy as he held you there, but you wanted to feel him properly, you needed him. “Logan, bed, please...”

Logan growled as you begged, he loved hearing your voice, but saying his name like this was too much to handle right now. He slid his fingers out of you, your body reacted as expected and you cried out, wanting the emptiness to be filled again, but you had no time to argue. His hands picked you up with ease and walked you to your bed, then he set you down as your body bounced from the drop, his eyes drinking you in while his hands worked quickly at your shorts.

As he leaned over your body, he couldn’t help but place such gentle kisses down your body, his hands immediately discarding your shirt from over your head as he kissed you over and over again, but you eagerly helped yourself out of the bra you had on. His tongue was tracing the dips and curves of your skin as he kissed lower, then he reached your breasts and began to suck on one of your nipples, his hands kneading into your soft flesh as his teeth and tongue gently played with your sensitive bud.

When you responded so well to his touch, he couldn’t hide the growl that pulsated against your skin, pleased with your responses beneath him. After paying some attention to your other breast, Logan began to trail more kisses down your body, his lips coasting against the dips toward your belly and then stopped just above your center. Your breathing picked up, your chest rising and falling faster as you watched him with wide eyes. He slowly swiped his tongue through your wet folds and then teased you a little with his tongue against your clit.

He pulled back a little to stare up at you, smiling. “You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against you, his voice hoarse with desire.

Your body responded so well to his tongue between your legs that you had to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs against his head, but his large hands were spreading them in an instant, keeping you still. “Fuck, Logan, that feels so good-” You gasped as he sucked a little stronger than you expected, and the moan that came from your lips sounded so divine.

Logan continued to eat you out, his tongue pressing into you with relentless enthusiasm. He curled his long tongue within you, two of his fingers dipping inside to add to the pleasure.

“Keep doing that and I’m not lasting long,” you warned, your tone sounding whiney and pitiful.

He stopped eating you out for a moment and stood up, his eyes burning with desire as he quickly did away with his jeans. You could see the obvious tent forming in front, his hard on straining against the fabric before he slid them down quickly. “Fuck, I need to be inside you now,” he growled, allowing his hard cock to pop out from his boxers.

As you looked down to see his length finally free from its restrictive confines, your eyes were glued to it, and your mouth watered. You wanted to have him in your mouth more than you cared to admit. “Logan, please, I need you inside of me…” you said, almost in a whisper.

He crawled back onto the bed, his eyes locked with yours as he positioned himself between your legs. Logan slowly entered you, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his size.

“You're so fucking tight,” he groaned, then started to move his hips in slow, deep thrusts.

"Damn, you're so thick," you groaned, feeling the intense pleasure roll over you as you smiled and leaned your head back. "Oh fuck, Logan.”

He smirked at your praise, his throbbing cock filling you completely with each thrust. He reached out and grabbed your hips, pulling you into him even deeper. “You like that, don't you? You fucking love it.” He started thrusting harder, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face as you took him.

"Ahhh –fuck, yes I do!" You whined, clenching your teeth together as you melted into his touch, your moans were too loud now, there was no way you could control yourself anymore. "Feels so good.”

He growled, something he did fairly often around you, his hips slammed into yours now. “You want more? You want me to make you scream my name? Fine.” His thrusts became wilder, more erratic as his fingers dug into your skin and he took you roughly, mercilessly. “Say it, baby girl.”

"Yes! Logan, oh my god, Logan!" You cried out, moaning with each hard thrust he pushed against your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper.

His grunts of pleasure echoed in the room as he fucked you harder, his cock reaching deeper into your core. Hearing his name on your lips only made him want to lose himself within you. He groaned louder, feeling your walls tighten around him, so he gripped your hips even tighter, his fingers leaving marks on your skin. “Say it again…”

"Logan!" You moaned out again, wanting him to know you only wanted to scream his name ever again. "Oh god," you cried out, holding onto him as you wrapped your arms around his neck to anchor yourself to him.

His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of primal lust and the slightest hint of a deeper emotion. "I like hearing you say my name," he hummed before his lips crashed onto yours. His tongue dominated your mouth, demanding submission as his thrusts became more desperate and needy.

You can't help but stare up at him, slack-jawed from the pleasure, moans, cries, and whimpers stumbling from your mouth in a desperate attempt to talk. "Y-Yes," you said simply as your eyes rolled back slightly. "You're fucking me so good, Logan.”

His adrenaline spiked at the sound of his name coming from your lips while he fucked you. "Damn right, I am." He grinned down at you, feral and satisfied. “You like it when I make sure to remind you who you belong to?” He asked roughly.

Logan's eyes rolled back in his head as he lost himself in the sensation of being inside you. He pounded into you relentlessly, the bed creaking and shaking with the force of his thrusts. His claws extended and dug into the mattress on either side of your head as he held himself above you, he'd take care of that later, all he could focus on was how good you felt around him. He increased his pace, his hips snapped forward as he buried himself inside you over and over. His breathing grew heavier and his face contorted with pleasure. He leaned down and bit down on your collarbone, his teeth sinking into your flesh.

You flinched slightly when his claws came out, but you still clung to him, not afraid of the animal that threatened to release. He continued to keep going, but you looked up at him in a haze and bit your lip before speaking. "Logan, can you....”

Logan slowed down, retracted his claws, and looked down at you, his expression filled with concern as he leaned down and brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "What is it? Did I hurt you?”

"No, you didn't hurt me, I was actually going to ask if... you'd put your hand around my throat as you fucked me?” What kind of request was that for your first time with him?! You felt crazy for even asking, but it was something you thought about for a while now, though you wouldn’t confess that right away.

Logan's pupils dilated with desire at your words. He reached up and wrapped his hand around your throat, his thumb resting lightly against your pulse. He began to move inside you again, his pace slow and measured, his eyes locked onto yours. "Like that?”

"Y-yes, like that," you smiled shyly and closed your eyes as his thrust pushed deeper into you. "Just like that.”

Logan tightened his hand around your throat as he increased his pace, his hips snapping forward as he buried himself inside you over and over, his breathing grew heavier, and his face contorted with pleasure. He leaned down and bit down on your collarbone, his teeth sinking into your flesh. He suddenly growled possessively against your skin as he felt you tensing beneath him. He could sense that you were close, and he wanted to push you over the edge right along with him. He tightened his hand around your throat further and increased his pace, his hips slamming into yours with brutal force.

"Yes! Like that! Just like that, oh my god!" You cried out and held onto his arms, your nails digging further into his skin as they caused the flesh beneath them to tear open.

He let out a deep, guttural growl as you cut him open, his skin repairing the second you caused any damage. Logan's response to your cries was a feral snarl as he felt his control slipping. He released your throat and sat up, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. He pounded into you with reckless abandon, his fingers digging into the mattress as he chased his release. "Fuck, I'm so close…”

“L-Logan, please,” you begged, “come inside of me, need you to fill me up!” you cried out, the sound coming from your throat was broken, strangled, your voice taken as he pounded into you.

Logan’s muscles strained as he continued to thrust into you, his movements became erratic and desperate as he felt himself reaching the edge, and his breaths were ragged as he could feel the pressure building within him. Suddenly, he let out a deafening growl as he finally succumbed to the pressure, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he came hard, his hot seed inside of you as he continued to thrust through his own release. His body convulsed, and his breathing was hot and heavy against your skin as you finally let your body go, the crash of pleasure hitting your body hard as your back was arched, your body and hips snapped up against him, his thrusts working you through your own orgasm.

As you clung to his body, your arms wrapped around his neck as your thighs squeezed him, pulling him deeper inside of you as Logan sighed, resting his head on your shoulder for a moment just to bask in the afterglow. Logan remained buried inside you, his arms wrapped around your legs as he tried to catch his breath. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling completely sated for the first time in a long while. "Fuck, that was intense.”

You couldn't speak, you lay there with Logan's heavy body on top of you as you panted in short breaths, hoping to lay here as long as you could while you stared up at him with a thin sheen of sweat coating your face. He was a natural heater for you, his body pressed over yours as he brought a gentle kiss to your temple while you gently rubbed his arm, then you brought your hand to his face and rubbed your thumb against his cheek.

Logan nuzzled into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. He then looked up at you, his expression tender. "You should stay the night here in my room.” His hands squeezed your thigh gently as he reached down. "Unless you have somewhere else to be, of course. Unless...you don't want to.” He hesitated, his grip on your thigh tightening slightly. "I mean, if you have other plans, I get it.”

That confidence and cockiness he had earlier was gone, it was as if he had changed into another person, one that was much more vulnerable now that you two were alone in your own world. “Logan, I'd love to stay the night with you,” you said softly, your hand reaching up to cup his face gently. “I always wished you woulda asked me.” You had a playful tone as you spoke, lightening the mood a little.

He pulled out of you slowly, his gaze never leaving yours as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your belly, then he wrapped his arms around you, holding you firmly against him as he settled beside you. “Mhm good, I don't want you to leave yet.”

You lay in his grasp, your half-lidded eyes staring into his as you reached a hand to brush your fingers through his hair, finally able to feel the closeness you’d wanted for so long. Your eyes closed, breathing in your mixed scents as you let out a small, satisfied hum. “You know, Charles is right about one thing, I do get distracted by you,” you muttered softly.

The way you whispered this, the way you looked into his eyes as you spoke, your expression filled with such adoration, it pulled at him more than he would ever care to admit. His gaze softened as he placed his hand on your chin, his thumb gently sliding across your bottom lip as his eyes darted to your lips. “Guess Charles ain’t too daft after all,” he teased. Logan let out a long exhale, his arms tightened around you as you nuzzled further against him.

You let out a small chuckle as you looked up at him, your eyes glued to him as you got to really look at his face so close, seeing his features in a different light. “You know, I kinda like soft Logan, and not in a degrading way, mind you, just nice to see you let your guard down, showing me how you feel.”

His chest tightened at your words, but not in an uncomfortable way, he understood exactly what you meant, but he wouldn’t deny the sense of comfort it gave him to know that he could be vulnerable around you.

“Mhm, I ain’t used to showin’ that side of me, but here, baby girl, let me show you how I really feel,” he hummed, pulling you into a deep kiss, his need for you consuming him.

#tinalbion writings #logan howlett #james logan howlett #the wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine fanfiction #x men origins: wolverine #afab reader #no use of y/n #dividers by saradika graphics #mdni banner by bxd-decisions

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loving-barnes · 1 year ago

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A Touch Of Hope (Logan Howlett)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x female mutant reader

Summary: After a mission went wrong, Logan brought an injured mutant into the school. And with that, new hope has arisen - for mutants, for the school, even for Logan.

General warning: graphic depictions of violence, smut, explicit language and more.

This story is for 18+ audience. Minors DNI.

Author's note: I love that Logan is tall in the movies. They... fucked up. And I am here for it. The reader is a female. I don't do any description BUT she has long hair (I'm sorry). If you find something, let me know. I am writing this for fun, not rushing and just enjoying the process.

Set in an alternative universe. In other words - I can do what I like.

• Begin Again (Chapter One) After a failed mission, Logan unexpectedly brings home an injured mutant. | Words: 5300+

• 'Hell' (Chapter Two) Y/N shares how she escaped 'hell’. | Words: 4300+

• Spark (Chapter Three) Charles reveals something more about Y/N's mutation. | Words: 3800+

• Window of Opportunity (Chapter Four) In Salem, Logan and Y/N have the opportunity to save the boy. | Words: 5200+

• Revelation (Chapter Five) Scott decided to be a dick and share something he shouldn’t. | Words: 4300+

• Better (Chapter Six) Things are slowly turning around. Or are they? | Words: 3100+

• Bar (Chapter Seven) It’s a fun night out at a bar. | Words: 3300+

• Bonding Moment (Chapter Eight) The students get to know Y/N a little more. | Words: 3700+

• Babysitting Gone Wrong (Chapter Nine) Charles asked Logan and Y/N to babysit the students while the rest of the staff was away for the weekend. | Words: 6200+

• Need (Chapter Ten) Things move forward between Logan and Y/N. | Words: 4300+

• One Of Us (Chapter Eleven) Y/N got an offer to become a member of the X-men. | Words: 3000+

Staff: Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy (Beast), Piotr Rasputin (Colossus), Remy LeBeau (Gambit), Bobby (Iceman), Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler), Kitty Pryde, Anna Marie (Rogue), Ororo Munroe (Storm), Logan Howlett (Wolverine), Scott Summers (Cyclops), Jean Grey, Peter Maximoff (Quicksilver)

#Logan Howlett #Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female reader #Wolverine #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #Marvel fanfiction #A Touch of Hope #Logan Howlett fanfiction #Logan Howlett x reader smut

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shelbgrey · 1 year ago

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Dating Scott Summers:

Paring: Scott Summers x Mutant!Reader

Summary: Scott Summers falling in love with a beautiful mutant girl -NSFW content warring

A/n: this won the poll! Please send request for x-men!

❤️MasterList ❤️Dating mood board

You were there for about 10 years before Scott was brought to the school whith bandages over his eyes. He was so scared to hurt anyone and you felt terrible.

Not to toot your own horn, but you made his first pair of ruby quartz glasses. You got help from your friend Hank McCoy in the Lab and created the red glasses he wears today.

Scott will never not be impressed with you. If you ask him he fell in love with you the moment he got to look at your through the glasses. “your Amazing”

It always bugs him that he can't see you and your natural colors, with his glasses everything is red.

Scott worked hard to win your heart. In to your adult years and your X-men years you guys wold always stare at each other with puppy eyes, but both parties were afraid to make the first move.

“your really falling for this girl, aren't you?” his brother Alex asked. “she's not just some girl”

Let me start off by saying that Scott has eyes for you and only you. Your confession had took a huge step back when Jean Grey started showing interest in Scott. She was everything you were insecure about and you often compared yourself to her in the worst way possible.

Scott never took a second glance at Jean, he wanted you. Jean knew that and it angered her, she wanted Scott to herself. Jean also knew you'd always be to shy to admit your feeling to Scott, so she used it to her advantage.

Scott wanted to tell you he loved you so bad, but he always felt you deserved better. He wanted you to have a guy that could look at you without red-tinted glasses, he wanted you to have someone who wasn't dangerous.

“you know, girls like her don't wait around forever” Xavier told him one day. “do you guys relize the affection you two share?”

Scott sighed, during that week you'd been avoiding him. He hated it and didn't know Jean had been pushing you guys apart without you realizing it. Scott looked down. “she deserves the world, Professor”

“if you want her to have the world tell her how you feel. Because to her you are the world” Xavier told him”

He will always regret telling you how he felt because of the situation you were in. It was a mission gone wrong which resulted you staying in the med-bay in the mansion. Scott never left your bed side. His heart pounded with anxiety the longer you layed in bed unresponsive.

The next morning you woke up with him holding your hand and his head on your lap. You were relived to see him and it made your heart flutter that he stayed with you. You gently ruffled his hair, waking him up.

He woke up and tears pricked his eyes as relief washed over him. He cupped your face gently and pressed his forehead to yours. He was shaking so much. “your okay... Please don't ever leave me”

He looked into your eyes and took a deep breath. You don't know how bad he wanted to see your natural eye color and not just see the red tint from his glasses. “I love you... Everything about you amazes me, your everything to me”

“I love you more” you smiled softly. You shared your first kiss that night, this kiss was so gentle but held so many years of bottled up tension and emotions. He held you carefully, like as if you were made of glass and his kisses were driven by so much relief and unconditional love.

That's what you too shared, unconditional love.

Scott's so gentle with you. Deep down he's scared you'll break or scared he'll somehow end up hurting you with his mutation, that's his worst fear. His always so gentle and loving with you.

He loves your mutation, he thinks you look badass and sexy when you use it. Your mutation is the power to conger up blue fire in your palms.

He'll only call you beautiful or gorgeous. He feel like you deserve a compliment better than sexy or hot. He always makes sure you know how beautiful you are.

He's big on hand holding too, if your walking around the city your hands will be locked together, or sometimes hell just hold your had if your setting down at a table or something.

He holds your hand whenever he can, that his way of showing off that your his girl.

He's rough in bed, but a gentle kisser. The gentlest kisses he gives out it is in the early hours of morning before you get up to teach your classes.

Yes, you both are teachers at Xavier's school. Yall never left that damn place. He's the engineering and self defense teacher while your the English and creative writing teacher.

He loves leaving red roses on your desk all the time. That's one of his love languages.

He's always afraid of hurting you, especially with his mutation. But you trust him enough to even take off his glasses to see his full face, he still get scared and keeps his eyes shut tight. “It’s okay. You’re not gonna hurt me,” you whispered. You leaned forward slowly, careful to his face. You kissed the part of his forehead, just above his left eye. Then the right.

This man need physical contact a lot. He's a big cuddler and just needs you in his arms, it's a comfort and a protection thing.

He also loves teasing you and getting you all flustered. He thinks it's the cutest thing in the world when you blush after a compliment or if he kisses you.

“I can't concentrate when you do that” you laughed. He was standing behind you while his hands moved around you. “doing what?” he said, kissing your neck.

By the way, this man is extremely protective of you. It doesn't matter if your on a mission with the rest of the X-men or just out getting groceries. Your protection and safety is his main priority.

He's so afraid of losing you, your the best thing that's ever happened to him and he doesn't want to screw it up. Of course he doesn't have to worry about that.

God, this man loves everything about you. You have a couple of tattoos, he wants to know about them. It doesn't matter what type of hair you have or if you like it or not, he loves it. He'll love your voice, body, personality... Everything.

If your in bed he'll always have his arms around you. Rather your the little spoon or your on his chest. But sometimes if his day is rough he'd want to be the little spoon. His favorite feeling in the world is your arms around him and your fingers running through his hair.

He also loves it when you curl up on his lap and a cuddle to his chest. It the best feeling to him, especially on your way home on the X-jet after a long mission.

You call him everything but Scott. Usually its Scotty, honey, or Sweetheart.

He loves calling you Baby or Angel. And he always refers to you as 'his girl'. No mater if your his wife or girlfriend, your gonna get called 'his girl'

You love listening to old rock music together. If it's just the two of you he'll sing with you and on the occasion you can convince him to dance with you.

Your Favorite singer to listen to is Meatloaf. Your song is definitely 'you took the words right out of my mouth'

You love riding on the back of his motorcycle. He loves feeling your arms wrapped around him and holding on to him while he drives.

Like I said before he's super over protective, so if your on the back of his motorcycle he's driving more careful than he ever has before. If he's by himself he'll drive at an unsafe speed and pop a couple of wheels, but if your with him he's carful as hell.

He'll also teach you how to ride one. He was so excited when you asked him to teach you.

He refuses to sleep unless you have fallen asleep first, he just needs to know your okay before he can have a good night sleep.

If your cold you'll steal his leather jackets, or you'll sleep in his old dress shirts. Also if the sun is brighter than usual you'll steal his spare ruby quartz glasses and used them as sunglasses.

Hell always remind you how beautiful you are. If you feel insecure about your self he's there to kiss you and tell you how amazing you are.

NSFW headcanons:

He's the most loving person during sex, hell he is all the time. He'll also try his best to make it as romantic as possible, if not he's always holding you close and kissing you so you know how much he loves you.

But he also doesn't mind being rough with you. If you push the right buttons, you'll be under him screaming his name as the headboard of the bed bangs against the wall.

There's also a tone of jealous sex. If he sees Logan shamelessly flirting with you expected to be tied to bed as fucks your brains out. If he sees Hank touch you in a way thats reserved only for him you’re pinned against the wall.

Bondeg kink. Handcuffs, belts, he'll tie you up with anything if your comfortable with it.

he'll bit you in the heat of the moment. He loves marking you up.

Dispite him being mostly rough in bed and pushes you to the point of screaming, he'll be so soft and gentle in the end. “you did so good for my baby, I wasn’t too rough was I? I didn't hurt you did I?”

One of his biggest kink is cumming inside you, seeing you filled up just makes him go crazy.

he loves grabbing you by the hips, literally squeezing his fingertips against your soft skin, holding you in the place or using them to help guide the pace.

If you want to take a shower and get cleaned up, Scott will lift you up in his arms and carry you to shower, he'll hold you safe and will be extremely gentle with your sensitive body.

Has a soft spot for sex in the shower, he loves holding you up against the wall, roughly while he drives his cock into you.

He love getting head. He loves the feeling of towering over you while he has you on your knees. Plus, feeling your lips around him pushes him closer to cumming in your mouth.

Loves eating you out, your legs around his head. He loves your legs and thighs in general and loves leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He'd rather pleasure you for hours than receive.

He's a boob and ass man, He’ll push your bra up and take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls all around while he squeezes your ass, pulling you closer to his body. He loves it when you start moaning and tugging at his hair, He honestly can’t get enough.

He loves hearing you moan. If you try to hold back or even muffle them when it's unnecessary, he'd put an end to it. “Don't hold back baby, let me hear you”

For aftercare, He will spend an exorbitant amount of time just kissing you, slowly and deeply, as he massages your thighs and hips. It's his way to calm you down and bringing you back to reality.

#Scott summers #X-men #Scott summers x reader #Scott summers imagines #Scott summers smut #Scott summers headcanons #X-men headcanons #james marsden #X-men imagines #X-men x reader #marvel comics #Marvel

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gor3-hound · 5 months ago

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TOUCH ME INSTEAD – SCOTT SUMMERS + LOGAN HOWLETT

ft. scott summers x f!reader x logan howlett

a/n: commission for the super lovely @dollfacefantasy. literally check her out i do not have enough praise for her omg... god bless her for feeding my scogan fantasies. title is from the song 'over my head' by james marriott !! thanks to @cubedkennedy and @nexysworld for giving it a lil look over when i was tweaking 😓

cw: 18+ content. mentions of grief + death. gay sex (seriously... reader is in the background of this one), anal sex, oral (m!recieving), overstimulation, handjobs, fingering (f + m recieving), kissing, biting, blood, scott centric. canon divergent but set after x2

word count: 3.4k words

Scott hasn't been the same since Jean's death. He still remembers the jet. Demanding they lowered the ramp. Snapping at Nightcrawler to go and get her. The way the realisation set in as she spoke through Xavier. He didn't believe it at first. Not really. Something in him knew – you couldn't lose someone like her without feeling the shift in the universe.

Everything came crashing down all at once. She was gone. Jean Grey was gone, and he was all alone all over again.

He cried so much the first night without her that his lungs burned and his heartbeat pounded painfully in his head. Hours had passed before he eventually exhausted himself, falling asleep curled up on her side of the bed. When he awoke the next morning, he was suddenly very grateful no one would be able to see just how red and swollen his eyes were under the shades he wore.

There's a feeling of exhaustion that is unexplainable to those who haven't lost anything. Scott’s mind couldn't handle the rapid changing of emotions coursing through him. The regret he felt for every time he didn't put his all in when it came to Jean. The desperation he felt to find some way to get her back, some hint that she was alive somehow. The guilt he felt for every argument they'd had. That he hadn't told her ‘I love you’ the day she died. At the end of it all came acceptance.

With acceptance came numbness. Everything he did reminded him of Jean, so he chose to do nothing at all.

Logan of all people seemed concerned about him. Scott feels a little queasy when he thinks back to the jet, about how he clung to the older man. He felt safe with him, although that's something he'd never admit – even if he knows there's no point trying to hide it; Logan's the only one Scott’s let visit him since he lost Jean.

“She's been askin’ about you, y’know.” Logan didn't have to say who he was speaking about for Scott to know it was you. You had tried to speak to him once he returned to the school after the mission, and he had instantly pushed past you. It wasn't your fault, not really. You just reminded him too much of her in the way you acted. He couldn't stomach your presence right now. He didn't feel strong enough.

“Don't start lecturing me. I don't have the energy for your shit tonight.” Scott remembers how hard he had to try not to let his voice waver. How hard it was not to tell Logan how badly he needed comforting. He was a leader, first and foremost. He wouldn't break down. Not in front of him.

“You should at least come out ‘n eat somethin’.” Scott can't remember the last time he felt hungry.

“Nah. Nah, I can't face the kids like this.” That was the end of the conversation. Every time you or Logan have tried to visit him since has been met with silence and avoidance. He's never felt this pathetic before in his life.

It's better this way, he thinks, curling up with one of Jean's old shirts. The smell is starting to fade. He cries himself to sleep for the first time that night since she died.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

“He's grieving, Logan. You just gotta give him time.”

A scowl spreads across the man's face at your words, brows pinching together as he brings the lighter to his mouth, igniting the cigar he has perched between his lips. He takes a few puffs, breathing the smoke out through his nose as he leans back in the chair.

“He's bein’ a fuckin’ asshole, s'what he's doin’.” He grunts, running a hand through his hair. His gaze is distant at your words. Directed at you, but going right through you. “We're all grievin’. Bastard's just gonna end up killin’ himself at this rate.”

“He loved her, Logan. He's gonna need time to process it.” You say with a sigh, running a hand over your face. Your free hand absentmindedly taps against the table, fingers cycling one by one against the hardwood. The noise draws Logan's gaze downwards, and he scoffs slightly.

“I loved–” Logan pauses. I loved her, he was going to say, but it didn't feel right. He loved the idea of her. Loved her like a friend, once he’d truly gotten to know her. I love him, is what he wants to say, but it isn't the time or the place. What good would it do?

“Doesn’t matter.” He huffs after a moment, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the jacket hanging off the back of his chair, unscrewing the lid and gulping some down. Nothing he can think of seems right to say at this moment.

Logan can't ever remember feeling so hopeless.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Numbness bleeds away to self-destruction. Scott can't help but feel as though there's something he should be punished for. He could have tried harder to save Jean. He should have. Maybe she'd still be here if he had.

It's the third time he's been to the Danger Room this week. His muscles still ache from last time, each step he takes causing discomfort to shoot through his legs. The pain is a welcome distraction from his grief. A reminder that he was still alive.

Once Scott is thrown into combat, his mind goes blank. He's able to focus – finally – as his brain quietens down. He blocks each and every attack that comes his way with a hand or an arm, leaving his visor untouched. He has no desire to use his powers today, not when each hit he sustains makes him feel alive again. Makes him forget.

The simulation around him falters and fades, and it feels as though his entire world comes crumbling around him. He's suddenly aware of the throbbing pain behind his knuckles, the ache spreading upwards until a dull soreness settles in the muscles of his arms. Each blow he'd been unable to block sends searing pain up and down his body now that he's not relying on adrenaline to get him through.

His gaze filters across the room appraisingly, eventually settling on Logan who is slowly approaching. Of course it was Logan. It always came back to him.

“I was training.” Scott snaps. Or attempting to, at least. He's winded and tired and sore, and he doesn't want to have to deal with Logan today if he can help it.

“You were takin’ a beatin’. Not gonna learn anythin’ just letting a bunch of holograms kick the shit out of ya.” Logan grunts in response, taking his space in front of Scott.

“I didn't ask for your advice.”

“I couldn't give a fuck either way. Your attitude is startin’ to piss me off.” Logan growls, stepping closer until he and Scott are barely a few inches apart. His hands come up to push at the younger man’s shoulders, sending him stumbling back a few steps. “Hit me.”

“Sorry, what?” Scott replies, brows knitting together as he stares at Logan through the visor.

“C'mon, I know you've wanted to since the day we met. M’not givin’ you another chance.” Scott’s eyes narrow behind his eyewear, but his hands come up to push harshly at Logan’s chest. The mutant doesn't budge. “Really? I know you can do better than that, bub. Hit me.”

So Scott does. He hits Logan as hard as he can, fist connecting with the rigid muscles of his chest over and over again. The skin of his knuckles crack and break, blood marring his pale skin as he unleashes his frustrations out on Logan. He just takes it, jaw set tight. The only indication any of this hurts is his tense expression and the occasional grunt that spills past his lips.

Logan catches Scott when he eventually collapses against his chest with tears in his eyes, clinging to him just as he had that day on the jet. He holds him there until his breathing evens out and he stops crying.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

“Hey, uh… Can I talk to you for a second?” Scott's voice is quiet as he pushes open your door, even in the near silence of your room this late at night. He wasn't sure what he could say to you to make this better. He knows he's been avoiding you. Well, he's been avoiding everyone (except Logan, apparently, who is determined to stick to him like a tick), but he knows you worry about him the most.

“Yeah, sure. What's up?”

“I, uh…” He swallows hard, throat bobbing as he turns his head away. He seems more like a guilty puppy than anything at the moment, tail tucked between his legs as he shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. He scratches at his jaw, stubble irritating his skin that he's been too tired to shave off. “Logan said you were asking about me.”

It's easier to say that then to really address the issue. He wants to speak to you, sure, but he doesn't want to admit how much he's been struggling recently. The idea of speaking about his loss almost feels selfish. You lost her, too. Everyone did. He doesn't know why the idea of speaking Jean's name out loud makes him feel queasy, makes him lightheaded to the point he has to grip the kitchen counter to stop himself from losing balance.

“Yeah… Well, I've been worried. I knocked at your door a few times, but you never answered.” You're not like Logan, you don't just barge in. He's not sure whether he appreciates that fact or not at this moment. He's missed seeing you. He almost regrets hiding away these past few weeks, but he's been acting downright pathetic. You look up to him, and he didn't want you to see him like that, anyway.

“You don't need to be worried about me. I'm alright, sweetheart. Honestly.” He has to be, doesn't he? That's his job. You don't need to know how much he's struggling.

It's a good thing he's doing such a terrible job at hiding it. You raise your eyebrows at him, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he realises he's not getting away with it when it comes to you. He clears his throat, tilting his head away from you.

“I'm fine, seriously–”

“You've been holed up in your room for over a month now. No one's expecting you to be at your best, but you're not even giving yourself a chance to feel better. You can't keep going on like this.”

“Don't.”

“I'm just saying that you're not doing yourself any favours–” A scowl crosses his features as his head snaps back to face you. He stiffens up, pulling his shoulders back. Acting like a cornered animal.

“You don't know the half of what it's been like for me. You barely knew her. You've… what? Been around a few months? Now you wanna lecture me about how to feel?”

He's raising his voice now, and you can't help but mirror his tone. Your body tenses, words sharper when you speak again. “I'm only trying to help–”

“I never asked for your help.” He snaps.

“What're you girls fightin’ about this time?” A third voice cuts in. You and Scott both turn to see Logan standing at the door, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the frame. His gaze travels between the two of you, taking in the tension in the room.

“Nothing.” Scott huffs, turning away from him once more. Logan clicks his tongue in response, shaking his head as he steps past the threshold and into your room.

“Could hear both of you from my room.” Logan says, shutting the door behind him. “Hate to say it, but the kid's got a point.”

A muscle in Scott's jaw twitches as he tilts his head to look back at Logan, his body still tense as if he's expecting a fight. He'd rather that than the alternative, but when he sees how you're both looking at him, he knows it's going to be a long conversation if he keeps avoiding the issue.

He breaks far quicker than expected when he notices the expression on Logan's face. He was ready for annoyance, disbelief, indifference, even – anything but concern painting the older man's features. Maybe he's been looking for an excuse to be honest. He doesn't know, but the words come tumbling out before he can stop them, and all he feels is relief.

“I just–” Scott pauses, then swallows, then sucks a harsh breath in through his teeth. You don't need to see his eyes to know he's crying. It isn't long before the tears break past the edge of his shades, travelling down his cheeks in small trails. “I just want to forget her.

I know I shouldn't say that, I just… fuck. Just for a couple hours, or… just something. She's constantly on my mind and I just… I need to breathe.”

He watches as you and Logan share a wordless exchange before moving towards him. The hands that find him are warm and firm and so damn distracting. He lets out a choked sob as he leans into you, arms wrapping around your body as Logan's strong hands grip at his shoulders. His thumbs press into his flesh and rub circles in his tense muscles to soothe him, all while he's clinging to you like he's scared you'll disappear. Truth be told, a part of him is absolutely terrified he might lose you – he's even scared he might lose Logan, that his healing factor will somehow fail or be rendered useless one day and he'd be left truly alone.

He's so lost in his own mind that he barely registers your thumbs brushing the tears off his cheeks, doesn't even hear your whispered words of comfort. But when your lips meet his, everything quietens down for a moment.

When you kiss Scott, it's soft and sweet. The tension bleeds away from his shoulders as he kisses you back, eyes fluttering shut. His hands find your hips, tugging you flush against his body. His lips part further as he feels Logan press against him from behind, leaving him panting into your mouth for a few seconds as he feels Logan's steadily hardening length pressing against his ass and the scratch of his facial hair against his skin as the other man presses kisses along the back of his neck.

You tug Scott's face closer again, and he kisses you back almost mindlessly. Your tongue slides along his lower lip, and he parts them immediately granting you entry. He sucks on the wet muscle before he's licking into your mouth, desperate to taste more of you, feel more of you.

A hand that's too big and too rough to be yours slides under the fabric of his boxers to squeeze his cock. He whimpers against your lips, jaw growing slack as Logan starts to lazily stroke him while grinding against him. He's starting to feel a little dizzy, his legs weak as heat pools in his lower belly. Scott can feel hands tugging and pulling at him, guiding him to the bed on the other side of the room. He lets himself be led without any complaints, the distraction making him desperate. Pliable. He hasn't felt this way since–

The thought leaves him as Logan pushes him back onto your sheets. You watch closely as Logan's hands greedily roam Scott's body, hitching his shirt up so he can lick and bite the toned skin of Scott's stomach.

“Fucking Christ.” Scott hisses, jerking under Logan. When Logan lifts his head from his stomach, the shape of his teeth is visible, and a small amount of blood is visible on his grin. Logan is quick to pull Scott's clothing free, and you shimmy forward to help.

“Open up.” Logan grunts as he taps two fingers against your bottom lip. They part easily, allowing the digits to press against your tongue. You suck and lick at them eagerly, the taste of cigars lingering on the skin as you coat him in your saliva.

The fingers pop free, and he slides his hand down the inside of Scott's thighs until his fingers – warm and wet with your saliva – prod at his entrance. Scott's expression is tense, his chest heaving at the intrusion as Logan sinks his digits in slowly. A whine spills from his lips, hips jerking as he grips at the sheets with enough pressure that his knuckles turn white.

“Fuuuck.” He hisses once more, back arching as you spit in your palm and enclose your fingers around his hard, leaky cock, pumping his length slowly. He's going to go mad. There's no way he can last, not like this. Between Logan scissoring him open and your hand squeezing and stroking, he's going to paint his stomach in less than a minute. “It's too much… please.”

The fingers withdraw from his ass, making him whimper in protest. That is until the blunt head of the other man's cock prods at him, his hips jerking into your grip helplessly as a new string of curses fall from his lips.

“Look so fuckin’ sexy like this.” Logan groans, slowly sinking into him until his hips are flush against Scott's ass. His claws prick gently at the skin of his knuckles, barely unsheathing as he struggles not to immediately rut into the tight heat surrounding him. Scott cums in an instant as the sharp tips graze his skin, ropes of white coating the taut muscles of his stomach.

Your hand continues to stroke him through his orgasm, but then it isn't stopping. And Logan starts to thrust, knocking a choked gasp out of Scott. He writhes under the both of you, chest heaving with heavy breaths. He gasps and whines, torn between bucking into your hand and crawling across the bed to get away from the overwhelming pleasure.

Scott isn't even aware he's been begging until Logan laughs all throaty. Your grip tightens as you pump him with more vigour, his cock twitching in your grasp. “Shit, Scott. Didn't realise you were this much of a slut.”

Scott's body is tense, but he can't form the words to argue with the other man. His lips part, but all that comes out is a needy whine as your lips enclose around his head. His mind is gone – all he can manage is rocking his hips into your mouth, then back to meet Logan's thrusts. His hands move from the sheets to grip your hair, pushing you down further onto his length until he's nudging at the back of your throat. His breaths come out in short pants, thighs twitching as another orgasm approaches.

Logan's hand slides down your back as you work on bringing Scott to the edge, sliding under your pants to tease your entrance. He groans under his breath when he's met with how wet you are, his fingers dipping into your cunt and curling until you're moaning around Scott's cock. Every time he fucks into you, the force of it sends Scott further down your throat.

“Gonna… gonna cum, baby. Fuck.” Scott breathes out, the only warning you get before he coats your tongue with his release. You swallow as much as you can, a mixture of drool and cum leaking past the seam of your lips as you pull off of him.

Logan growls as he feels Scott tightening around him, and it only takes a few more thrusts before he's spilling into Scott. His hand falters slightly for a moment before he shifts, pulling you closer so he can thumb at your clit as his fingers drive into you.

“Come on, baby. Give Scottie a little show, yeah? You gonna cum for us?” His voice comes out breathless, his gaze flicking between you and Scott, who's lazily gazing at you as he attempts to catch his breath. You nod eagerly, head falling back against Logan as you reach for Scott's hand, giving it a small squeeze.

A few more skillful movements of Logan’s fingers has you gasping, body tensing as your climax hits you. Your thighs clamp around Logan's hand, your grip on Scott's making the man wince. You collapse after a moment, but not before you and Logan crawl either side of Scott, curling up against him. He wraps an arm around each of you, nosing at your hair.

For the first time in a while, a small smile curls at the corner of his lips.

#logan howlett x you #scott summers x you #scott summers x logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #scott summers x reader #scott summers #xmen #xmen smut #scogan

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dinogoofymutated · 9 days ago

Note

Okay, since requests are open, I wanted to ask for something, especially after seeing that you are comfortable with most male characters.

I present:

Scott Summers x fem!reader who's just a little too rebelious and annoying for his taste but he still can't help but love her? Like, enemies to lovers kind of style?

If you want to do a oneshot or headcanons is up to you, I'm just starving for Scott content.

Don't know, if you wanna do is, especially since he's not everyone's cup of tea, but I thought "hey, give it a try, maybe she wants to try someting different" so here I go

Anyway, love your work, you#re amazing <3

Cyclops/GN!Reader I've had this prompt saved in my drafts for SO LONG. Basically since the moment it came in!! I was so happy you sent this in bc i had been thinking about writing for Scott, but then I couldn't think of a good enough way to carry this out so I waited on it for a good bit until I had it down to a science!! Hope you enjoy!! Man, I started writing this and then realised I had to make a banner for him too 😭 I did this to myself tho Most of the characters I write for are written as combinations from different x-men media, but I'm still figuring out how I want to characterise Scott since he's a new character for me. Just wanted to put this out there in case I change how I write for him in future fics. (also, let me know how you feel about him in this one! Tell me if yall think I should tweak his attitude a bit :) ) Edit from the future: I started this draft so long ago and damn did it turn out long. TWs: Idk at the moment, will add if I think of any! Reader has a specific power that is kinda vague at first. I've written them out at the very bottom BUT if u read u will spoil the surprise of the fic so fair warning

Scott does not like you. At least, not anymore.

You've known each other for a long time, both coming to Xavier's school within weeks of each other. You used to be friends- or at least friendly. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves and your powers, a gap began to form, and then continued to grow once both of you became members of the x-men.

It's not like he didn't notice your tendency for rebellious behavior before, but on the field? the two of you clashed more than ever. He's doing his best out here, and the last thing he needs as a leader is both you and Logan going out of your way to put yourselves in dangerous situations because you think you know better.

And the moment you get back to the mansion? You clash all over again- and over the dumbest things. You practically avoid him all of the time, refuse to spar with him unless you're forced, will scoot away from him if he has to sit next to you on game nights. It's like the very thought of brushing against him is enough to get under your skin.

The moment the blackbird lands, you should have known what to expect. But you're in such a good mood, with the mission having gone well despite all odds. Sure, you didn't exactly follow Cyclops' foolproof plan, but when did you ever?

Scott is standing at the end of the ramp when the doors open, watching with a rather sour look on his face as you laugh with Jubilee, the others trailing shortly behind. He crosses his arms, and you barely stop short of him, acting like you had never seen him in the first place as you sigh, nodding at the others to go ahead before finally turning to him and crossing your own arms.

"Go ahead. Say your piece." You say. It only stokes the irritation in him, and he scowls.

"You can't go one, single mission and actually listen to what I say, can you?" He snaps. You roll your eyes, knowing that if he had it his way, you'd never have gone on the mission at all. Still, you stand defiantly, unwilling to back down.

"Look, you weren't even there, you can't expect me to-"

"It would be different if I was there, but I wasn't." Scott interrupts you, and the aggravation it lights in you is practically all-consuming. You can't hold back your scowl. "You were the only senior member of the team on that plane, do you understand how detrimental it could have been if you had gotten hurt, or worse?!" Oh, what a load of horseshit. It's alway the boy scout schtick with him- I'm the leader, do what I say, If I was there none of this would have happened- what an asshole! Hell, in the second half you might have actually thought he was concerned for you and the team, but you knew better.

"Don't act like you actually give a damn, Summers." You snap. "Everyone is fine, no one got hurt, I don't see your problem." You're done with this. You're tired, sweaty, exhausted, and the last thing you want to be doing right now is talking with him. You knock shoulders with him as you brush past, but he reaches out and grabs you by the arm. You feel a mix of strong emotions- anger, concern, frustration- and thoughts swim in your head, before snatching your arm away from him like you'd been burned. He pauses for a second as you whip around and look at him, a rage in your eyes. He still looks at you with that stupid, stubborn look on his face.

"I get that you think I'm just some stuck-up asshole, but there's a reason I get angry when you do something reckless." His voice has lost the smallest a bit of fire. You scoff at him immediately, before turning away to storm out.

"Eat shit."

So no. things weren't exactly cool between you two.

It's not like you weren't friends at some point though, back when you were kids. You didn't know what happened to cause this rift, but he only really thought of you as some reckless idiot as of late, and you didn't care to learn anything else about what was going on in his brain.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean you could avoid him forever. Not when the both of you are on a team.

You only realise how much pain you're in when the blackbird's autopilot clicks on. Your suit was scuffed and worn in some areas, starting to burn at the edges of your sleeves as the protective coating started to wear away. You noticed it in the midst of battle, trying to focus on manipulating debri to a colder temperature rather than a hot one, but sometimes you can't afford to be picky in fights. Your suit may have been temperature resistant, but you were temperature invulnerable. Besides, heat did the most damage anyway.

You frown a bit at the sight of your burnt sleeves. Normally, you'd be worried that Hank would be mad at having to make a new suit again, but if anything you were sure he'd be grateful for the challenge of improving it. Scott was really the only one who would scold you for it, always coming back to the same arguments of being too reckless, ect, ect... and speaking of Scott, he was being awfully quiet right now.

The cockpit is empty exempt for the two of you, being the only two assigned to the mission. Scott is sat in the pilot's chair, and you can't really see much of him besides the top of his head. He's silent, and it makes you worried.

When you stand and walk. over to him, his face looks pained. You're sure his eyes are closed under his signature visor, his head leaning back limply in the chair, hair tussled. You furrow your eyebrows. You knew he'd be tired, but he's not usually this burned out.

"Scott? You alright?" You ask. he only hums in response. It's then when you realise what's wrong.

"Migraine?" You ask, and he hums in the affirmative. You wince at the thought. You knew he got migraines often, especially when using his mutation more than usual, and having migraines yourself, you knew he was hurting. You take a look at where the emergency aid box usually is, knowing it had painkillers, but the space is empty, and you sigh to yourself when you remember you used it on a local- Scott agreeing with you for once when you wanted to leave it with them for any more emergencies. You look back at Scott, and think for a moment more.

Scott jumps when you place a cold hand on his forehead, having settled your weight on the back of the chair behind him. It sparks a feeling of surprise.

"What are you doing?" Scott asks, and instead of his usual accusatory tone, he just sounds tired.

"Don't be a baby." You respond, chilling both hands and combing through his hair gently. Scott is confused as all hell. Why were you doing this? You go out of your way to avoid him at any cost, and then... this? What even was this?

But... he'd be lying if it didn't feel nice. Scott begins to relax underneath you as you continue to comb through his scalp, pressing gentle touches to his forehead as you do so. It's... it feels good.

"My mom used to do this when I was little." You say softly, after a long moment of silence. "Whenever I had a migraine, she'd run her hands under cold water for a long time, lay my head in her lap, and run her hands through my hair. The cold usually helped." Scott's shoulder's are sagging now, and he sighs every once in a while. Although he doesn't say anything, you don't need to ask. There's a question beginning to brim, but you answer it before he can even speak- saving him the effort of talking in the midst of his pain.

"...And it just felt nice to feel her play with my hair, I guess. 'figured it might help you, too."

You try not to dwell on whatever thoughts begin to swirl after that.

It's hard to tell when things shift after that. Even harder for Scott to understand why.

Eventually you go from avoiding him at any given chance, stiff and petty with your actions, to casual. Not quite friendly, but almost.

"And... Right hand red!" Jubilee calls from the couch, having entirely too much fun for someone who isn't even playing this game. Everyone who's already lost has dispersed, either playing a different game or having good conversation. The game of twister had started with four? Maybe five of you? But at the moment, it was just down to you and Scott. -The two of you being way too competitive to let the other win. At the moment, both of you were in a bit of a strange position, with Scott managing to crawl over you at some point. Aside from that, the game had been going on for uncomfortably long- long enough for the pizza to get here.

The doorbell rings and it's pretty instantaneous when people start to flock to the kitchen for the feast, Jubilee included. There's a flicker of panic in both of you as she quickly leaves.

"Hey!-"

"Jubilee! Wait!"

"You'll be fine, you big babies!" She calls out, giggling in her pursuit of the cheesy goodness. That just leaves you and Scott on the matt, pressed together in some places and a but uncomfortable, but awkwardly? Still competeting.

"God, that pizza smells good." Scott groans from above you, the smell of food becoming more and more tempting. You think about it, for a half a second maybe, but that competitive little devil on your shoulder gets to you before your stomach can.

"You know what? why don't you go ahead and grab a piece!" You say, causing Scott to cock an eyebrow at you.

"What, and let you win? Not a chance." He huffs. You shrug best you can, it was worth a shot! Neither of you were going to budge any time soon, determined not to let the other win. But the longer you stayed pressed together...

It's not like you hadn't noticed how handsome Scott was. Hell, who wouldn't? Even Logan isn't immune to his good looks, but obviously you weren't going to be... wierd, about it. You're just playing a game, right? But the sight of him above you, slightly flushed, shifting every once in a while while keeping his balance? It was... tempting.

It doesn't take long for other thoughts to begin swimming around, worming their way into your mind. The two of you in various states of undress... gasping, gripping onto one another... marks on his neck, your lips swollen and stained by the lipstick your wearing tonight.

Each and every thought leaves you more flustered than before, slipping on the plastic mat and accidentally knocking into one of Scott's weight bearing arms and sending the two of you colliding into the floor. You hear Scott let out a noise of pain and you're not down there for long before you shove him off of you, face burning as you grumble about his win. You stalk off without much fanfare, leaving Scott a bit befuddled.

"What was that all about?"

But regardless of how aggravated you made eachother sometimes, everyone has their breaking point...

You're surprised when Scott kisses you in the hall some weeks later, less than a second after a heated spat started to take a bit of a turn, but to be honest? You were into it.

His lips are soft, if a little chapped, heated kisses full of force and urgency before they soften just a little. You kiss him back in a similar manner his hands falling to your waist as you grab him by the collar and pull him even closer. You're quick to start moving the two of you backwards fumbling for a closet door you could have sworn was right... there.

As soon as the door swings open, you pull him inside, pushing him against the wall once it closes again and cupping the back of his neck as you pull him into another kiss. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth shoots through you as you do, and you almost giggle as his thoughts start to flood with more and more tempting situations for the two of you to be in.

After each and every dirty thought he has, you start to wonder if he even remembered your touch telepathy after having known you for so long- but hell, even if he didn't, you weren't complaining.

If u made it this far, I wanna give u details about the Reader's powers some more!! Specifically, the powers are temperature manipulation/temperature invulnerability/touch telepathy! They get a bit complicated bc reader can't light shit on fire or make ice out of the air, but they can melt shit and freeze existing water though! As long as reader touches it in some way! Due to this they're invulnerable to heat/cold for obvious reasons. Touch telepathy was added bc i love mutations with unnecessary layers (Emma frost) and... u really think I was gonna let scott get away without banging another telepath? wrONG

#goofyspeaks #x men #x men comics #x men 97 #x men headcannons #x men 97 x reader #x men x reader #scott summers x reader #scott summers #cyclops x reader #x men cyclops #cyclops #x men headcanons

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agoodfictitle-shadowban · 5 months ago

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Sweet Summer | Pt. 3 [Ending]

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader

Summary: The Xavier Institude is being renovated for the summer. With nowhere else to go, your best friends Billy and Tommy offer you to stay with them and their mom. But what happens when feelings start to spark between the two of you?

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Violence, Panic Attack, Age Gap (20yo reader, 37yo Wanda)

Tags: mutant!Reader (shadow manipulation), different timeline, everyone is alive (except Pietro, sorry Pietro), no Sokovia Accords, no Thanos, Wanda was young when she joined the Avengers, retired Natasha, top!Reader, bottom!Wanda, but they switch a bit, Vision is a bit of an asshole, divorced!Wanda, mainly cutesy, bit of angst tho

A/n: last part for this story! I hope you liked it, it was fun to write but your comments are what brought the most joy so please do comment! See you soon :)

Your way to the airport was filled with music as you sang along to the radio with Wanda, in a more or less serious way depending on the song, laughing with each other when you decided to make silly faces. It was all in good fun, and showed how happy you were together. When you arrived, you disembarked from the car and headed to the lobby. Wanda was wearing a cap and sunglasses trying to hide who she was. It was your first time on the plane, so you were excited, looking around the place with childlike wonder. Until your eyes found someone familiar.

At first you didn't recognize them, but then it hit you like a ton of bricks. It was your dad. Right there, with your mom, and… your younger sibling, you guessed. A boy. Still, he looked so much like you, it was uncanny. They looked so happy as they breezed right past you, so close you could smell them.

As you looked at them, you felt sweat form in the palm of your hands and on your eyebrows. Your heart was racing and your throat started to constrict as your mind was filled with a million thoughts at the same time. Quickly your breathing worsened, and your vision blurred. Were you crying?

"Y/n?" You heard Wanda call from far away.

The world around you started spinning. You tried to grab onto Wanda, but before you could really get any purchase your legs gave way and you were on the ground, having knocked down her sunglasses.

"Y/n!"

Wanda was immediately by your side, her hand on your back trying to support you. In trying to understand what was going on, she allowed herself a peek in your mind. The sheer pain that she felt emanating from you was almost enough to knock her out of your mind before memories and thoughts started to pour in. She put a hand in front of her mouth and a few tears streamed down her cheeks when she saw what happened to you, and finally what had triggered you.

The commotion got the attention of most people around you, including your parents. They stopped to look at what was happening and finally saw you. Your mom took a step back, while your dad stood there with his hands in fists, and your brother was watching with simple curiosity unaware of anything else. There was a clear hesitation on what to do on your father's part, his anger falling into place on his face.

"Get away from her," Wanda growled at them. Only when he saw the red in her eyes did he decide to back off and take his wife and kid with him.

"They're gone, Y/n, they're gone. You're safe," Wanda whispered to you as she took you in her arms, rocking you gently as she rubbed your arm to try and ground you.

Slowly but surely you came back to yourself, and got out of the way to sit against a wall somewhere away from the crowd. You had an icy bottle of water that you applied against the back of your neck as if to cool yourself down. Wanda was sitting next to you, her eyes alert and scanning the crowd like a guard dog.

"I'm sorry," you muttered after a while. You felt guilty about what happened, about the way you just crumbled when you saw them there. You should have been stronger, maybe, sturdier. Wanda simply shook her head at your apology, refusing it.

"Don't, if I saw my parents and brother out of nowhere like that I would freak out."

"It's not the same. I hate them. I wish they were dead," you admitted harshly.

"I don't think it's that different," a very soft Wanda said as she took your hand in hers, playing with your fingers. "They're dead in a way you can't change. In some way, you're also mouning them, mourning what they used to be for you. Your pain is just as real as mine."

You hummed as a form of concession. She put her arm around your shoulder and brought you closer to her, kissing the top of your head. You could feel her heart beat under your head. The reassurance of her presence calmed you for the rest of the trip.

Paris was a dream come true. You enjoyed visiting the different places the city had to offer with Wanda, holding hands as you went to the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower during the day, and to restaurants and cabarets at night. But it would be lying to say you didn't stay inside some days to enjoy each other's body and soul. If you stayed in a less well isolated place, you probably would have received a few noise complaints. You had never been this happy in your life, and as for Wanda, her smile was an experience in and of itself with how bright it was when the two of you got to experience life together. It didn't dim even when you were on the plane back to New York.

Back at home, you found a routine between the two of you. You would cook for each other, read together, enjoy the swimming pool, or simply do separate activities in the same room. It was all very domestic and it made you feel like you had found where you were meant to be in the universe. At the same time, you knew this couldn't just keep going like it was perfectly normal. No matter how right it felt to hold her hand, be it innocently or not, this would one day come to an end. You just didn't expect it to happen the way it did. You thought you had more time with Wanda.

Vision was in front of Wanda's house's door, having knocked and rang a few times now. He had sent a message an hour ago that he was coming by to get Tommy's guitar, but from the lack of answer to his text and to the door, he guessed that no one was there. With a heavy sigh, he phased through the door. Looked like he was right and no one was there. He went up the stairs and turned left to get to Tommy's room when Wanda appeared from her bedroom, disheveled and in a bathrobe. That made him frown.

"Vision?" She asked, visibly wondering what he was doing there. And he was about to answer when he was able to get a peek in the bedroom and saw your back. His frown deepened.

"Wanda, where is Y/n? I th–" he interrupted himself when he caught a glimpse of you in the window. His eyes widened in shock and at that moment Wanda knew that he knew.

"Don't. Vision!" She exclaimed when he started going down the stairs. She followed him. "You can't tell anyone, Vision."

This felt more like a threat than an amicable request, and the android finally looked back. They were both in the entry now, facing each other.

"I can't tell anyone? Wanda, have you gone mad? This," he pointed towards the bedroom, "is your sons' best friend that you're sleeping with."

"I fail to see how that's any of your business," she answered coldly, crossing her arms.

"For our sons' sake of course it's my business! For Y/n's too for that matter. She's only 20!" Wanda tilted her head at that point.

"A year older than me when we had the twins. She's not a child, Vision."

"Still. Tommy and Billy's best friend."

"That's why you can't tell them," she said more in a whisper than anything. A beat of silence went by before Vision finally said something again.

"Alright. I won't. But you have to do it."

"When the time is right, I promise I will."

Vision nodded at the agreement and finally left the house. Wanda took a few steps back to lean against the wall and close her eyes, taking deep breaths while panic started to settle in. What was she going to do?

You appeared by her side before she could spiral any deeper and you took her hands, looked into her eyes.

"Hey Wans, it's okay, it's gonna be okay," you said in order to reassure her, while you stroke her thumbs. "We're gonna be okay."

She nodded, some tears threatening to spill over. You kissed her cheek and hugged her, bringing her head against your shoulder. You were going to be okay, you tried to convince yourself. Everything was going to be okay.

Wanda had been silent most of the rest of the day, her eyes drifting away into nothingness. You left her alone most of the time, only bringing her food and giving her embraces to make her feel better. She would return them but immediately go back to where she was before. It was hard to see her like that. You wished you could take away her doubt and hurt. But you knew it wasn't that easy.

Still, you approached her as she was sitting at the edge of the pool, one leg under her and the other in the water, and sat next to her. Her head fell against your shoulder slowly, her hand found yours, and you intertwined your fingers. The moment felt peaceful despite the turmoil.

"We still have ten days," you whispered to her, swallowing hard at your own words. It was more than you ever hoped to have to begin with.

"I don't think it's enough…" her voice was wavering, and you wished you had a solution for her, something where everyone was happy, but you knew it wasn't possible.

"We could try… I don't know, see how the twins react when we tell them, and go from there." It was a pipe dream that it would go well, but you needed this hope. You needed to think that things could go well and that you'll be happy, because otherwise what was the point?

"Yes, that's all we can do, isn't it?" She nodded and tightened her grip on your hand. That really was all you could do.

With her hand still in yours, you stood up and mustered some courage to offer her a smile.

"Come on, let's get inside and have dinner. I made your favorite."

"Paprikash?" Her eyes lit up and she stood up next to you with your help. You nodded and guided her inside.

Despite everything happening, you managed to have a good time around the table.

You were in the living room with Wanda snuggling against you when the door of the house opened and Tommy appeared out of nowhere. You barely had enough time to stand up before you felt his fist come into contact with your face, sending you reeling back against the fireplace. He grabbed you by the collar after that and started yelling right in your face.

"You asshole! How dare you touch my mom?!"

"Tommy!" Wanda exclaimed and grabbed him by the arm, trying to move him away from you without success.

"You come into our home and you take advantage of her like that?!" He brought up his fist to hit you again when a red energy got around him and forced him to walk back away from you.

"Thomas Maximoff! That's enough! I won't tolerate violence under my roof," she ordered, while you were now ready to defend yourself just in case.

"But Mom–"

"I don't want to hear it. If you have something to say, be an adult about it."

"Like you were when you decided to sleep with her?" He pointed out, and you could see the hurt on Wanda's face. If Tommy felt guilty he didn't show any of it. She let him go, and instead of coming after you again, he adjusted his jacket and walked away. "I'm going back to dad's. I'll stay there until she leaves."

He walked by Billy who was waiting in the doorway, looking sorry.

"I'll try to reason with him," he said before he followed after his brother.

Once they both left, you palpated your nose. It was bleeding but it wasn't broken. Wanda grabbed some tissues from the table and tried to stop the bleeding.

"Are you okay Y/n?" She asked rhetorically as the bleeding was coming to a stop. There were no words left in you now, nothing to say to reassure Wanda. Your best friend just clocked you right in the face. The worst had happened, and now you knew exactly the course of action you had to take. You walked back to the sofa and sat down, your hand going through your hair. Your cheek hurt when you finally talked in a broken voice.

"It's over, Wanda," you said flatly. She looked at you from the spot you left her in. She looked away, tears in her eyes.

"I know," she admitted. A few tears fell down her cheek, and finally she joined you on the sofa, sitting close enough for you to brush away the tears. You leaned closer and stole one more kiss from her.

"I love you."

It was the first time you told her, and you knew it was also the last. She embraced you and snuggled her nose against your neck. You could feel the tears slide down against your skin and into your shirt.

"I love you too."

But sometimes love wasn't all that mattered, sometimes you had to protect those you loved. And in order to do that, you had to sacrifice yourself. You closed your eyes. You couldn't allow yourself to cry, or you would never be able to leave. So instead you broke the hug and your heart, and you left the room.

A few hours later, you were out of the house. Out of Tommy and Billy's life. Out of Wanda's life.

It was

The End.

It was five years later.

You were sitting at a table in the small coffee shop you always went to between classes, eyes peeled on your laptop's screen. Final week was over and now your real job started as a TA. You had to help grade the exams your students turned in, and you were happy to do so. It was a fulfilling job. You were really focused on it before you noticed someone taking a seat at your table. You frowned, ready to tell that stranger to leave you alone when you recognized him.

"Tommy? What are you doing here?" You asked the young man. He had barely changed since the last time you saw him, he just looked more adult.

"Glad to see you too, Y/n." He picked some of your croissant off your plate and plopped it in his mouth. "To tell you the truth, I just live around here. I didn't think I'd run into you though."

"Why would you, I only go to the University that's around here," you said sarcastically. He somehow laughed at that, before he stole more of your croissant. You swat at his hand so he would stop, you always hated when he did that. "What do you want anyway? Cause I doubt you're here just to steal my food."

"Why not? It sounds like a good plan."

You closed your eyes. Why was he acting like nothing ever happened between the two of you? Like you did nothing wrong? You set your jaw and look at him again. Maybe it was the occasion for you to set things right - or as right as they could be.

"Listen, Tommy… I'm really sorry about the way I betrayed you and Billy. I shouldn't have, it's just…" you took a deep breath. You thought that after five years, you were over whatever happened with the twins, over what happened with Wanda. The truth was… you never got over it. "When I fled from my parents', I was scared, and alone, and… when I met you and Billy, it was like I learned to be brave, but I was never fully a part of you guys. I still felt alone. And then with Wanda…" you remembered the way she used to look at you, like there was nothing else in the room but the both of you, how she would say your name, and hold your hand. You remembered the flecks of gold in the green of her eyes like a forest at sunset. "I didn't feel so alone anymore."

"This is a shitty apology, and a poor excuse," he shook his head. "You don't go out with someone 'cause you feel alone. It's pathetic. You go out with someone because you love them, because it makes you happy. And I know damn well you made my mom happy." That last sentence ended in a guilty whisper. "I guess what I'm asking is: did you love her?"

"I did," there was a pregnant pause, "I do," you admitted, defeated. "But it's too late now."

"Here is the thing… I don't think it's over." You looked at a grinning Tommy, unsure of what he meant by that. He sighed and made it clearer. "You still have a shot is what I mean."

"What about you and Billy?" You asked as your heart was starting to jump in your chest as things got clearer.

"I was the only one with a problem with that. Billy was his usual momma's boy self… which was the right way to react. Which… I'm sorry I hit you."

You massaged your cheeks out of reflex at his apology, then squinted at him. If you understood correctly everything he was saying, that meant… that meant that maybe, just maybe, you still had a shot at happiness five years later.

You stood up and almost toppled your chair. A blush crept up on you when every customer looked at you but you quickly forgot about it.

"I need to go," you told Tommy with determination.

He nodded at you and you left the coffee shop.

It was stupid, you thought as you stood outside Wanda's house. During the past five years, the only news you got from Wanda and the twins was when they appeared on the news doing their superhero jobs. Never in a million years you thought you were going to be back in front of the house where everything started - and ended. Nothing had changed. It was the same colonial style house, with the same tree, and the same balcony. You stood there for a good thirty minutes without being bothered by anyone, just observing the house. Reflecting on the past and the present. Until the door opened and Wanda appeared. If the house didn't change, she did; her hair were a fiery red and fell differently around her face now. Seeing her made your hands shake a little. She walked towards you slowly, with her arms crossed around her waist, and stopped right in front of you. Her eyes were greener than you remembered.

"I could feel you from inside," she said without her eyes leaving yours, "I waited for you to approach but you were taking too long."

You looked away, feeling warmth creep on your face as you realized you'd been staring at her. Finally, you managed to find a few words no matter how dry your mouth was.

"Yeah, I wasn't sure… I didn't know if you'd want to see me."

"I don't think I'll ever want not to see you, Y/n," she admitted in a double negative. It was a convoluted way to protect herself, but still, the meaning was there. You smiled slightly and gazed at her again. Your heart was pounding in your chest at this point. You took a piece of paper from your leather jacket pocket. You handed it to her and she took it with a frown, reading what was written on it. "Y/n, what is–"

"It was my turn, wasn't it? To pay for our holidays," you told her so fast you got slightly out of breath.

You awaited her answer. Wanda swayed left to right, then took a step forward and bit her lip before she finally leaned closer to kiss you. It was short and sweet, and there was still some sadness in it, but it was the promise that she wanted to try and make it all better.

"Let's go on a trip," she said and this time you grabbed her by the waist to kiss her again, and again, and hopefully, a million more times before the end of your holidays.

The End.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda imagine #swsu fic #x reader #wanda maximoff #idk how to tag

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silverzoomies · 1 year ago

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Screwball

peter maximoff x reader smut

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

word count: 14,151

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Shit. Wait…

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

No shit, blockhead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speaking of your body.

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

It’s most definitely not you.

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

Maybe you’re just as absentminded as he is.

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

Which…sounds way dirtier than intended.

Fuck. Alright. Moving on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fair enough.

He nods, rapidly tapping his fingers on the railing.

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

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

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

Too late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So…sweetheart, eh? That’s a new one.

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

Ah. he’s lightheaded now. Great.

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

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

Godspeed, or however the saying goes.

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

Way to go, ponyboy. Graceful as ever.

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

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

“Peter?”

“Uhyeahwhat?” He stammers again.

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

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

“Peachy keen, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Peter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, sweet, frosty sanctuary calls.

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

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

Huh.

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

But then-

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

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

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

Peter blinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bwah bwah bwah bwah?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter blinks again, dumbfounded.

“Lim-...uh, what now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which could so easily be misconstrued. Dammit.

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

Where do you want me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ohhhhhhhh …” Peter groans, “Nice.”

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

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

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

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”

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

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

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

Instantaneously, something clicks in Peter’s brain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Righteous work, casanova.

“Right. And I’m Screwball because…?”

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

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

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

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

But now? Well…shit.

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

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

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

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

No?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

This is happening now. Fuck yeah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which somehow, ultimately makes you even sexier to him.

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

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

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

Whoaaaaaaa, mama.

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

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

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

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

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

Bwah bwah bwah bwah!

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

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

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

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

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No more messing around. This is the real deal.

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

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

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

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

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

Through frantic, wordless intakes of breath, Peter nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…D…Did that really just happen??

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Discreetly, he pulls the door open.

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

Only to find…

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

And who can blame them?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he’s luckier than he thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you cannot even be serious right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who said anything about paying?”

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

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whoopsyeahokay · 10 months ago

Text

October Sun

summary: Xavier had been acting cagey for weeks, a fact you hadn't had the heart to address since Maddie's disappearance. but with his dubious return to school and how he loitered in the periphery of Nicole and Simon's orbit, you thought it was about time to get answers. too bad one pale, cow-eyed jock had other plans.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.5

You felt foolish, dressed like a Parisian cat burglar, but you hadn't exactly spent your night strategizing how to avoid Wally Clark come morning. Instead, you'd pored over several small, ratty books that outlined possible explanations for human-ghost attraction.

Not the kind of attraction that makes your heart beat love songs, but the kind that draws elements together. The scientific kind that had nothing to do with what the shape of Wally's mouth might feel like against various pulse points.

Thankfully, the universe seemed to be on your side. You'd managed to slip from one class to the next unnoticed, only seeing the shy boy with the glasses and the spacey girl who roosted atop the library return bins. No towering athlete with big hands and bedroom eyes.

Jesus, girl, get a grip, you chided yourself in a voice that eerily resembled Mathilda's.

Mathilda, who you'd managed to waylay that morning by dragging her into the girls' bathroom and holding her hostage until Xavier had texted you the OK. Mathilda who'd spent the time before and after History barking insults at people who'd thought it'd been a good idea to share their opinions of Xavier aloud.

What she lacked in height, she sure as hell made up for in loyalty and intimidation. Qualities you admired and wished you could emulate. If Mathilda had chaotic, ancestral ghost powers, she wouldn't let herself be pushed around by the idea of a ghost getting the better of her.

No. She'd probably browbeat the ghost into submission and get on with her day. No swarms or storms or ectoplasmic squalls; no mother eventually stepping in to fix her daughter's mistake, cursing I told you over and over again because, yeah, she had. Sadly, Mathilda didn't share your abilities and couldn't chase Wally away on your behalf.

Frustrated, you shoved the hood of your uncle's sweater over your head and yanked the drawstrings, encasing yourself in a void of soft fabric.

It sucked. You didn't want Wally chased away. You just wanted him never to figure out that you could see, hear, or wholly and completely interact with him...Which would result in him eventually giving up or losing interest and never seeking you out again, as he'd done in your sophomore year. And you wanted that even less.

When had 'don't tell anyone' become so complicated?

Naturally, you didn't want to get your mother involved. Were wholeheartedly determined to weather the storm alone. Had been doing a decent enough job of it until yesterday, despite some minor missteps here and there. But if Wally remained steadfast in his promise ("I'm not going anywhere until you admit it"), she'd find out—she always found out—and you'd never see him again. Poof. Gone. Disintegrated into the ether; his beautiful, summer-sun soul vanished from the earth as if he'd never existed.

You couldn't let that happen.

"How's the undercover operation?" Xavier's voice penetrated the dead air from somewhere above you.

You groaned in response, loosened your hood and pushed it off to stare up at him, likely making a pitiful picture with staticky hair and a pout.

He prompted you with a twitch of an eyebrow, you rolled your eyes; he grinned, you untucked your knees from your chest and opened yourself up to invite Xavier to sit with you on the library floor.

"Who are you hiding from, again?" He asked, making himself comfortable across from you between the shelves of autobiographies—the section furthest from the door.

You teased him with a delicate smile, "No questions, remember?"

"Normally, I'd respect the hell out of that, but I feel like I should be concerned." He regarded you carefully, eyes flitting between yours as if he could summon your secrets through them. "I don't have to kick the shit out of anyone, do I?"

"I love you, Zav, and, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the thought," You really did, "but, trust me, it's not that deep."

"Okay...and how many lunches do you plan to have in the back of the library?"

"As many as I need to." You replied vaguely. He bit his lip to stop a smile and nodded. "I'm good, Xavier, I swear. I just need some space right now." You weren't going to fabricate a lie for him. Anyone else, yeah, water off a duck's back, but Xavier? It toed a line you weren't comfortable crossing.

While not entirely placated by your statement, Xavier respected it, getting back to his feet and shouldering his backpack. As he was about to round the bookshelf and leave you to your business, he paused.

"You'd tell me, right?" He peered at you over his shoulder, "If things were bad...you'd tell me?"

Without hesitation, "Yes," you assured.

His expression relaxed, "Thanks."

Xavier didn't leave the library altogether, simply walked away to give you the space you'd said you needed.

For awhile, you occupied yourself with homework—notebook in your lap and Frankenstein open beside you—taking advantage of your free period to catch up on what you'd put aside last night. It would've been a good use of your time, except...your uncooperative brain kept ambling back to Wally. To his puppysoft brown eyes; his cocky, boyish grin. Then to how he'd glided his fingers up your spine and had made your blood surge.

Shit. God. No. Stop that!

Growling inwardly, you shifted to your knees, notebook sliding to the floor, and grabbed your backpack. Dragged it toward you so you could pack up and find another place to sequester yourself. A change of scenery might help prevent your brain from tap dancing into very bad no good territory.

The pen you'd been using had rolled away when you'd repositioned yourself, now sat at the end of the aisle. Standing, you went to retrieve it when you heard someone who sounded a lot like Nicole mutter an apology. Peeking around the bookshelf, you caught sight of her as she hurried out of the library, phone in hand.

What's that about?

Before you could apprehend it, you saw movement in the corner of your eye. Xavier reshelved the book he'd been flipping through and made a hasty exit, clearly intending to follow Nicole.

Well. Now you had to know. You swooped over to your backpack, double-checked that you hadn't forgetten anything, and strolled as fast as you dared after them.

Completely unaware that, beyond the school walls, the specter you'd cosplayed Sid Vicious to avoid was gleefully running amok.

💀___________________________

PART FOUR - PART SIX

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #October Sun

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urdreamydoodles · 3 months ago

Text

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

They are being mind-controled by a villain and they believe you cheated on them (Part.1)

A fog has settled between you, a cruel illusion woven by unseen hands. The X-Man, your beloved, now look at you with wounded eyes, twisted by whispers that cloud their trust.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier & Bobby Drake

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- When Logan confronts you, it’s with an intensity that feels like it could crack the very air around you. His accusations are sharp, his words biting, and you barely recognize the man standing before you. He paces like a caged animal, his fists clenched, and his usually calm eyes are clouded with betrayal. Despite your confusion and protests, he remains adamant, pain flickering in his expression as he tries to push you away.

- You try to explain, to reach him, but Logan’s too deep in the hurt. He accuses you of breaking his trust, the one thing he’s rarely given anyone, and every word feels like a wound that digs deeper into both of you. Watching him struggle is heartbreaking—Logan, who’s faced everything with bravery, looks broken, vulnerable, and angry all at once, and it’s all directed at you.

- Days pass after the confrontation, and Logan distances himself from you entirely. He spends time in isolation, wrestling with his inner demons, consumed by a pain that he believes you’ve caused. Though you know the truth, his cold behavior is excruciating, and you can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever trust you again. You feel the loss of him like a piece of yourself gone missing.

- It’s a week later when the haze finally lifts from Logan’s mind, and the weight of realization crashes down on him. He remembers every word he threw at you, the devastation on your face, and it feels like claws are raking across his heart. He immediately knows he’s made a terrible mistake, that he’s been manipulated, and that he let it tear the two of you apart.

- Logan doesn’t waste a second after the truth comes to light. He finds you, standing before you with an unfamiliar vulnerability in his posture. The look in his eyes is almost childlike, full of remorse and guilt. He barely knows where to start, his voice barely above a whisper as he says, “Darlin’, I messed up… and I’m so sorry.”

- His apology is raw, filled with regret as he struggles to find the right words to convey the depth of his remorse. Logan isn’t one to be emotional, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he reaches for your hand, as if afraid you’ll pull away. He admits to letting his fears get the best of him and begs you to forgive him, acknowledging that he never should’ve doubted you.

- You accept his apology, though the pain is still there. But when Logan pulls you into his arms, holding you like he’s terrified to let go, the walls around your heart start to crack. He promises, over and over, that he’ll make it right, that he’ll spend the rest of his life proving he’ll never doubt you again. His words are like balm to your broken heart, and slowly, you let him back in.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy’s confrontation is full of drama and heartbreak. His usual charm is gone, replaced by a sharp bitterness you’ve never seen from him before. He speaks with an edge, accusing you of betrayal, and it feels like he’s tearing your heart apart with each accusation. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet, pained, and he looks at you as though you’ve ripped his heart out.

- He’s visibly devastated, masking his hurt with sarcasm and bitterness as he tries to process what he thinks you’ve done. When you try to explain, he cuts you off, refusing to let you defend yourself, as if he’s afraid that hearing you out would only deepen the wound. Remy, who’s usually so open and loving, now feels closed off, unreachable.

- The days that follow are painful, as Remy retreats into himself, haunted by the idea that you betrayed him. He’s normally social and outgoing, but you notice he’s withdrawn, spending more time alone. He’s haunted by the memories of the life you built together, struggling with an emptiness that seems to swallow him whole.

- The moment the mind control breaks, Remy’s world feels like it’s spinning. The realization of his mistake hits him hard, and guilt floods every part of him. He sees, painfully, that his trust was manipulated, and the weight of his accusations toward you crushes him. He spends sleepless nights thinking of how he hurt you, how he let himself be blinded.

- He seeks you out immediately, carrying flowers as a small gesture of peace, his hands shaking slightly as he approaches. Remy’s usual swagger is nowhere to be seen, replaced with a genuine, almost desperate sincerity. He tells you how sorry he is, his voice trembling as he explains how he was played, how he let his fears consume him.

- Remy’s apology is heartfelt, filled with regret, as he stands before you vulnerable and bare. He acknowledges that he should have trusted you, that he let his insecurities get the better of him. His words are raw, his gaze intense as he begs you to forgive him. The flowers fall from his hands as he reaches for yours, a silent plea for another chance.

- When you finally forgive him, Remy’s relief is palpable. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he swears he’ll never doubt you again. His lips brush against your forehead, his voice barely a whisper as he promises to rebuild the trust he shattered. In that moment, you feel the depth of his love and regret, and your heart begins to heal.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt’s confrontation is heartbreaking and full of sorrow. He approaches you with tears in his eyes, struggling to voice his accusations because the very thought pains him deeply. His faith in you has been his rock, and now, it feels like that foundation has been cracked. He’s devastated, his voice soft but filled with agony as he asks if it’s true.

- He tries to maintain his calm demeanor, but you can see the turmoil in his eyes. Kurt’s normally gentle spirit is marred by doubt, and every word he says feels like a dagger to his own heart. His hurt is almost palpable, and it’s clear he’s wrestling with the pain of even thinking you could betray him.

- In the days that follow, Kurt’s heartache is evident in his every action. He goes through the motions, struggling with his faith, his love, and his broken trust. He distances himself, praying for guidance but feeling lost without you by his side. The ache of loneliness gnaws at him, leaving him hollow and uncertain.

- When the mind control is finally lifted, Kurt’s guilt is immediate and overwhelming. He realizes that he was manipulated, that he was led to doubt the one person he trusts most in the world. The weight of that mistake crushes him, and he falls to his knees in prayer, asking for forgiveness before he can even face you.

- Kurt finds you with a heavy heart, his usual gentle smile replaced with a look of remorse. He takes your hands in his, looking at you with tear-filled eyes as he begins to apologize. His voice trembles, filled with the weight of his regret, as he tells you how deeply he’s sorry for doubting you, for letting his fears take over.

- His apology is sincere, and his words are filled with emotion as he explains the mental manipulation he fell under. Kurt admits that he should have trusted in your love, that he should have held on to the faith he always had in you. He looks at you with a sadness that pierces your heart, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek as he asks for your forgiveness.

- When you forgive him, Kurt’s relief is visible in every part of his being. He holds you close, whispering promises of love and trust, his embrace warm and full of tenderness. He presses a kiss to your forehead, vowing never to let anything come between you again. In his arms, you feel the depth of his love and the healing of the wounds that the villain’s manipulations tried to create.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott’s confrontation with you is direct and intense, as he’s always been the type to tackle issues head-on. His voice is steely as he lays out what he believes he’s discovered, his emotions restrained but still evident in the tension in his jaw and the way his hands clench at his sides. He’s hurt, yes, but also furious, struggling to understand how someone he trusts so deeply could have supposedly betrayed him.

- You try to explain yourself, but Scott cuts you off, his tone sharp and pained. He refuses to listen, his normally calm and rational mind clouded by the betrayal he believes he’s facing. His words sting, each one landing with the force of his suppressed anger, leaving you feeling both confused and devastated. Seeing him like this, distant and cold, breaks something inside of you.

- The days that follow are almost unbearable. Scott avoids you at every turn, burying himself in his responsibilities as a leader, his emotions carefully hidden behind a mask of professionalism. He’s always been committed to his duty, but now he throws himself into it with an almost unhealthy intensity, trying to ignore the ache of what he thinks is lost.

- When the mind control finally breaks, Scott feels the truth hit him like a physical blow. The realization that he’s been manipulated, that he allowed a villain to cloud his judgment and shatter his trust in you, fills him with an overwhelming guilt. He replays every harsh word he threw at you, and each memory feels like a knife to his heart.

- Scott’s apology is quiet but incredibly sincere. He approaches you cautiously, clearly struggling with the weight of his guilt. His voice is thick with emotion as he explains what happened, admitting that he let his insecurities and fears get the best of him. For Scott, the loss of control over his emotions is almost as painful as the thought of having hurt you.

- He’s never been one to beg, but there’s a quiet desperation in his voice as he asks for your forgiveness, his hand gently reaching out to touch yours. He promises to do better, to trust you more deeply, to never let his own doubts cloud his love for you again. His words are steady, but there’s a vulnerability in his expression that speaks volumes.

- When you finally forgive him, Scott’s relief is palpable. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he whispers words of love and promises for the future. He’s still haunted by what he did, but your forgiveness allows him to finally let go, and he vows to spend every day proving just how much he trusts and values you.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean’s confrontation is heartbreaking. She approaches you cautiously, her voice soft yet filled with a quiet pain. Jean is sensitive to others’ emotions, and even as she accuses you, there’s a sadness in her eyes, like she’s already mourning what she thinks you’ve done. She wants to believe in you, but the thought of betrayal has left her shaken.

- As you try to explain yourself, Jean listens with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, her expression pained. She’s torn, doubting herself as much as she doubts you, and each word you speak seems to only deepen her confusion. It’s clear she’s struggling to make sense of her emotions, but she can’t bring herself to fully believe in your innocence.

- The days that follow are marked by an emptiness that seems to cling to her. Jean is normally warm and open, but now she’s withdrawn, avoiding everyone, especially you. She’s always been a source of strength for those around her, but now, the sense of betrayal has left her feeling isolated and alone, unable to find comfort in anything.

- When the mind control finally breaks, the realization of what happened hits her like a wave of relief and horror. She feels as though her heart has been shattered, and the guilt of having doubted you, even for a moment, consumes her. Jean has always valued honesty and empathy, and knowing she let her fears get the best of her is deeply painful.

- Jean’s apology is tender and filled with remorse. She finds you, her eyes brimming with tears, and she doesn’t hold back as she tells you just how sorry she is. She explains what happened, her voice thick with regret, admitting that she let her insecurities cloud her trust in you. For Jean, failing to see past the manipulation hurts as much as the thought of losing you.

- She takes your hands in hers, her grip gentle but firm, as she begs you to forgive her. Jean promises to trust in your love, to hold on to the connection you share, no matter what challenges come her way. Her vulnerability is evident, and you can see just how much this has affected her.

- When you finally forgive her, Jean’s relief is visible in every part of her being. She pulls you close, her arms wrapping around you as if afraid to let go. Her embrace is warm, her love tangible in the way she holds you, and you can feel the depth of her emotions as she promises to always trust you, no matter what obstacles they face.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo’s confrontation with you is intense, though her tone is calm and collected, as always. She approaches you with a steely expression, her voice as cold as a winter storm. Ororo is a pillar of strength and wisdom, and the very idea of betrayal cuts deeply into her sense of trust. She doesn’t raise her voice, but every word she speaks feels like a carefully controlled strike.

- You try to explain yourself, but Ororo listens with an unreadable expression, her gaze piercing. She’s hurting, and though she tries to hide it, there’s a pain in her eyes that you can’t ignore. Ororo is normally compassionate and understanding, but this supposed betrayal has left her wounded, her trust shaken in a way she’s not used to.

- The days that follow are marked by a coldness in her demeanor. Ororo throws herself into her work, her usual warmth and empathy replaced by a distant, almost unreachable demeanor. She is always the voice of reason and calm, but now, her heart feels like it’s frozen, and even her connection to nature feels strained, as if reflecting her internal turmoil.

- When the mind control finally breaks, the realization of her mistake crashes down on her. Ororo is a woman of honor, and the thought that she let her trust waver, even under manipulation, is deeply painful. The guilt of having doubted you feels like a storm raging inside her, and she knows that she has to make things right.

- Ororo’s apology is graceful yet heartfelt. She approaches you with humility, her usual poise softened by the vulnerability in her expression. She explains what happened, her voice steady but filled with emotion, and she admits that she should have trusted in the love you share. For Ororo, letting herself be manipulated feels like a failure, and she’s determined to prove that it won’t happen again.

- She reaches out, her hand resting gently on yours as she asks for your forgiveness. Ororo speaks from the heart, her words filled with sincerity as she promises to always trust in the bond you share. Her gaze is intense, filled with the promise of a renewed commitment, and there’s a quiet strength in her apology that reassures you of her love.

- When you finally forgive her, Ororo’s relief is like a breath of fresh air. She pulls you into a gentle embrace, her arms wrapped around you with a warmth that only she can offer. You feel the calmness of her presence, the quiet strength that has always been her hallmark, and she holds you close, vowing that she’ll never let doubt come between you again.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue’s confrontation is a mix of frustration and heartbreak. She’s never one to mince words, and she lets her emotions pour out as she confronts you, her accent thicker as she struggles to control the pain in her voice. Her fists are clenched, and though she’s trying to stay calm, it’s clear that the betrayal she thinks has happened is tearing her apart.

- She listens as you try to explain, but the disbelief in her gaze cuts deep. Rogue has always struggled with trust, knowing how it feels to be hurt and left behind, so the idea that you could have done something like this shatters her. She’s hurting so deeply, and though she wants to believe you, she feels trapped by the manipulation that’s clouded her judgment.

- After the confrontation, Rogue withdraws, finding solace in her usual haunts and her own thoughts. She’s normally the life of the room, with her vibrant personality and teasing charm, but now, there’s a heaviness to her that makes her seem a million miles away. She hides her pain behind a facade, trying to convince herself that maybe she’s better off without you.

- When the mind control finally fades, Rogue is overwhelmed with guilt and anger at herself for having doubted you. The realization that she’s been tricked feels like salt in an open wound, and she’s furious with the villain who manipulated her, as well as herself for not trusting in your love. She hates that she let her insecurities control her.

- Rogue’s apology is raw and filled with emotion. She approaches you with hesitation, her voice soft but steady as she admits she was wrong. She’s not one to beg, but there’s a vulnerability in her tone as she asks for your forgiveness. She admits how much it hurt her to doubt you and promises to trust in you and your love no matter what.

- She reaches out to take your hand, her touch light but comforting, as she looks you in the eyes. Rogue doesn’t shy away from expressing how much you mean to her, and her words are filled with sincerity as she tells you just how deeply she loves you and wants to make things right. She’s always been fiercely loyal, and now she’s more determined than ever to prove that to you.

- When you forgive her, Rogue pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you like she never wants to let go. There’s a strength in her hug, a silent promise that she’ll never let doubt come between you again. She pulls back with a soft smile, her eyes bright and full of love, and you know that from now on, she’ll do whatever it takes to keep the bond between you strong and unbreakable.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik’s confrontation is cold, calculated, and full of barely-contained fury. He approaches you with an unyielding gaze, his tone low and laced with an intensity that makes it clear he’s already decided that you’ve betrayed him. His words are sharp, and each one feels like a dagger as he demands an explanation, his trust shattered by what he thinks you’ve done.

- When you try to explain yourself, Erik listens with a hardened expression, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He’s always been cautious with his heart, knowing all too well the pain of betrayal, so for him to believe you’ve done this shakes him to his core. His past experiences with betrayal and loss have left deep scars, and it’s clear that this supposed act has reopened old wounds.

- Afterward, Erik distances himself, retreating into solitude as he wrestles with the pain of what he thinks has happened. He becomes colder, more withdrawn, his usual fiery passion tempered by an icy demeanor. His actions are precise and methodical, each one a way to distract himself from the hurt, but the pain is ever-present, a reminder of what he believes he’s lost.

- When the mind control is finally lifted, Erik feels a mix of fury and regret. The realization that he’s been manipulated by a villain fills him with rage, but there’s an even deeper sense of shame at having let himself believe that you could hurt him like this. He’s always prided himself on his strength and resilience, but this has left him feeling vulnerable in a way he despises.

- Erik’s apology is as intense as the rest of him. He approaches you with a quiet, almost hesitant air, his voice softened by remorse as he admits that he was wrong to doubt you. For a man as proud as Erik, admitting a mistake is not easy, and the vulnerability in his eyes speaks volumes about how much he values you and your love.

- He promises to trust you more, his words laden with a rare tenderness as he takes your hand. Erik isn’t used to apologies, but he does his best, vowing to never let anyone or anything come between you again. He’s learned a painful lesson, and he’s determined to show you just how much he cares, no matter what it takes.

- When you forgive him, Erik’s relief is subtle but profound. He pulls you into a close embrace, his touch firm yet gentle as he holds you. There’s a newfound warmth in his gaze as he looks at you, a silent vow that he’ll never let his own fears come between you again. From that moment on, he’s more protective and devoted than ever, his love for you deeper and more unbreakable.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles’ confrontation with you is calm, but there’s an unmistakable sadness in his eyes. He’s not one to leap to conclusions, but the evidence he believes he’s seen has left him deeply conflicted. His voice is gentle as he explains his suspicions, but the pain in his tone is palpable, each word carrying the weight of the trust he thinks has been broken.

- As you try to explain, Charles listens carefully, his gaze never wavering, though his expression is clouded with doubt. He’s always been a strong believer in empathy and understanding, but the thought of betrayal from someone he loves has shaken him to the core. There’s a sadness in him that’s hard to miss, and each word you speak seems to deepen the sorrow in his eyes.

- In the days that follow, Charles retreats into his own thoughts, often lost in contemplation as he tries to make sense of his emotions. He’s a compassionate man, and the idea of mistrusting someone he loves feels foreign to him. His interactions with others are quieter than usual, and there’s a noticeable tension in his usually serene demeanor.

- When the mind control finally breaks, Charles is flooded with relief and regret. Realizing that he’s been manipulated fills him with a sense of guilt, and he’s angry at himself for not seeing through the trickery. He’s a powerful telepath, but even he is not immune to the pain of betrayal, and knowing he doubted you leaves him feeling ashamed.

- Charles’ apology is heartfelt and deeply sincere. He approaches you with a gentleness that is uniquely his, his voice filled with remorse as he admits that he let his own fears cloud his judgment. He speaks from the heart, explaining how much he values your love and how he intends to trust you more deeply in the future.

- Taking your hand in his, Charles promises to never let his own insecurities or doubts come between you again. He looks at you with a tenderness that speaks volumes, his eyes filled with the quiet strength and unwavering devotion that have always defined him. He assures you that he’s learned from this experience and that he’ll always trust in the bond you share.

- When you forgive him, Charles’ relief is almost palpable. He holds you close, his embrace warm and comforting as he whispers words of gratitude and love. There’s a peace in his expression that hasn’t been there since this whole ordeal began, and you can feel the depth of his commitment to you in the way he holds you. Charles may have been hurt, but he’s come out of this with a renewed determination to cherish and protect the love you share.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- When Bobby confronts you, there’s an unusual edge to his usually playful demeanor. His blue eyes, usually filled with warmth and laughter, are clouded with hurt and disbelief. He struggles to keep his voice steady as he asks for an explanation, his usual humor replaced by a seriousness that you’ve rarely seen from him.

- Bobby tries to be logical about it, but it’s clear he’s barely holding himself together. He’s normally the fun, lighthearted one, always quick to crack a joke, but now he can barely bring himself to look at you without pain flickering across his face. There’s a heartbreaking vulnerability in the way he seems so lost, and it’s clear he’s battling with his own insecurities.

- After the confrontation, Bobby avoids you, feeling embarrassed about his emotions but too hurt to stay near. He doesn’t want his friends to see him like this, so he tries to hide his pain with a mask of indifference. He throws himself into training and missions, trying to push down the heartbreak he feels whenever he thinks about what he believes happened.

- When the mind control finally fades, Bobby feels a rush of guilt and disbelief. The realization that he’s been tricked hits him hard, and he’s furious that he doubted you. He’s known for his resilience, but the idea that he let his own insecurities and fears cloud his judgment leaves him feeling deeply ashamed.

- Bobby’s apology is genuine and filled with remorse. He approaches you with his heart on his sleeve, fumbling over his words as he tries to express just how sorry he is for not believing in you. He’s clearly nervous, but his eyes are filled with sincerity as he admits his mistakes, promising to never let anything come between you again.

- He reaches out to hold your hand, his touch soft and careful as he confesses just how much you mean to him. Bobby may be a jokester, but his apology is anything but. He pours out his feelings, his usual carefree attitude replaced with a quiet determination to make things right and prove that he’ll never doubt you again.

- When you forgive him, Bobby’s face lights up with relief and joy. He pulls you into a tight hug, laughing softly as he holds you close, promising to always trust you and to work on his insecurities. From that moment on, he’s even more devoted, making sure to show you just how much he cherishes every moment with you.

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callmelittlesunshinefics · 9 months ago

Text

Dancing On My Own (Gambit X Reader, Part One)

Alrighty folks, this was meant to be a quick fluffy one shot that keeps getting longer and more angsty and has been sitting in my drafts for entirely too long now. Still very much a WIP that will be continued this week or next, PG13 for the time being with potential to take a turn for spicy down the line :)

A/N: Some quick background, the reader (Y/N in fic, described with she/her pronouns) is based off of an OC I tend to pull out pretty frequently. Half human, half angel, displaced from their home universe and dropped into this one (in which Lucifer, the tv show, is also cannon because why not maybe do a crossover down the line?). Gambit x Reader is the main ship we're sailing towards, but there's definitely some Logan x Reader if you squint. OH and last last thing, there's a party and I'm shamelessly linking the dress I had in mind for the reader here.

gif credit :) : @counterspelling

Dropping below a read more, don't be shy, come say hi when you're done reading! :)

“‘Stay for the summer!’ they said, ‘quiet and relaxing’ they said!” You throw the words you were told back at Jubilee who looks back at you completely unfazed as you continue untangling string lights to hang in the garden.

“Honestly Y/N if you had stopped for two seconds to think about who was telling you that, you probably would’ve gone back to LA.”

She was completely right, of course. You showed up to Xavier’s school not a mutant, not fully human either, and just looking for a place on the east coast to stay. Your uncle Lucifer made a few calls, found a friend willing to host a universe-displaced nephilim, and the rest was history. You might not be a mutant, but you were a partial human with powers you couldn’t always understand, and even other angels in this universe weren’t always able to help. Charles met and understood you quicker than anyone you’ve ever encountered in this universe or the next, so when you were asked to extend your stay and take on some guardian duties over the summer you were happy enough to agree.

“Jean is the one who told you it would be relaxing, and Jean’s idea of relaxing is staying at a constant level 8 of activity.”

“How is that not like the school year?” You rolled your eyes, dropping the lights.

“Well during the school year she bounces between a 9 and 10, reserving 7s and 8s for the weekend. I can make you a diagram or something if you need it.”

“I’m going to need a lot more than that by the time we’re done here.”

“Maybe Gambit can help you with that?” Remy had sauntered over from the basketball court, at least that’s what you assumed given his current state of undress.

“Unless you’re here to help decorate, I don’t think so handsome. If Jean catches us behind schedule the phoenix might make a reappearance…” You looked around and took a deep breath, realizing that other than the lights, everything looked pretty set. There was a reasonable sized clearing in the garden and Jean had hired a company to install a temporary dance floor. Chairs and tables were scattered around picnic style, and Jubilee had done an amazing job of setting up the bar despite being the only one unable to drink, legally.

“I think it’s actually just the lights,” Jubilee nodded to the messy pile at your feet, “And I think Gambit would be more help with that than me anyway, so?”

“Go ahead,” you nodded smiling and she ran over to hug you, “And if you go to the mall, bring me back a pretzel!!!” You yelled after her knowing it was useless, she’d bring you a pretzel whether she heard you or not.

“Avoiding me, chere?” Gambit eyed you with his usual flirtatious undertone that you couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“In fact, I am. Grab that end?” You handed him the lights as he waited for an explanation, “Okay, I’m going to sit in the tree, I just need you to feed me the lights as we move. Ready?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, disappearing and reappearing in the branch just above his head.

Gambit stared back troubled and suspicious, so you nodded and gave him the sarcastic, albeit not entirely untrue, answer he was waiting for, “Oh Remy my attraction to you is just so strong and all consuming that I had to avoid you in order to get anything done at all. Every second I can’t throw myself at you is torture. Et cetera, et cetera, please start passing me the lights so I can go inside and shower.”

He laughed and finally did as you said, “You know if you wanted ol’Gambit all you had to do was ask.”

The two of you worked in a comfortable silence passing the lights through the trees. Just as you finished wrapping the last string, your footing slipped and you let out a quick yelp before bracing yourself for a fall that never came.

“I never would have guessed angels could be so clumsy.”

“If we weren’t you’d be short of a pickup line. Tell me honestly, how many times have you asked a lady if she fell from heaven?” Remy laughed and began walking away with you still in his arms.

“Not as many as you think, chere. Are we about done out here?”

You looked around and nodded, “Finally, yes. It was a good catch by the way, but I think I can walk on my own.”

Placing you back on the ground, the two of you walked towards the mansion in another comfortable silence. Remy was probably tied with Jubilee as your closest friend in the school. You could remember the first day you arrived, how he couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t until later that same night, you were out in the garden and could still sense him watching you, that you decided to do something about it. You walked right up to him, introduced yourself, and asked him to kindly explain why he was staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost.

It turned out the boy who grew up being told he was a demon had a lot of mixed feelings discovering angels and demons were not only real, but one of them was living under his roof. Remy felt a bit silly admitting it to you, but he owed you an honest answer when you confronted him so directly. And when he told you what people had said about him, what he suspected his own parents must have thought of him, your heart broke. You told him stories of all the demons and monsters you’ve encountered, and reassured him that he didn’t come close to fitting the bill.

“What’s on your mind, Remy?” There was quiet and then there was Quiet. You were still pretty new, but you knew well enough when something was bothering him.

“Are you heading back?” You stopped short, and he stopped to face you.

“Back where, Rem?”

“Anywhere that’s not here.” He was facing you but he wouldn’t quite look at you, as if he didn’t actually want to hear the answer.

You took a deep breath, “The honest answer is that I don’t know. I don’t really feel like LA is where I belong, but I’m not a mutant or a gifted youngster either. I mean, I’m not even from this u-”

“Okay, okay.” Gambit interrupted you with a hug, correctly sensing an impending panic attack from you, “Gambit just worried he won’t get to see you s’all.”

You took a deep breath, sighing into the hug, “Well that’s really stupid.” He pulled back to look at you, full of confusion. “It’s really stupid because if I were going anywhere you’d be the first person I tell, and because it takes me about 5 seconds flat to get anywhere. I’d be back before you even knew I was gone.”

You smiled wistfully and he returned it, “I’d know.”

The two of you continued heading in and you finally felt brave enough to ask the question you’ve really been wanting to ask.

“Well, I have to head up and start getting ready for tonight. What about you, getting ready for your date?” Of course, you weren’t sure he actually had one, but that was as direct as you could bring yourself to be.

“Suppose I should be doing the same. Save Gambit a dance?” He kissed your hand and walked away, leaving you flustered and confused. You immediately pulled out your phone.

Y/N: okay so i said ‘gotta go get ready! what about you, getting ready for your date?’ and he said ‘suppose i should do the same’ what do we do with that??

JB: does he think you have a date??

Y/N: SHOULD i have a date???

JB: yeah, one of you should have asked the other out by now

You dropped your phone on your bed, having finally made it to your room after a flurry of texts. Complicated feelings for your maybe best friend aside, it was still important to you to be slightly better than presentable tonight.

Tonight was the first time all summer the adults of the mansion could relax and have a good time, and some non-residential mutants would also be joining the mix. You had never really been to anything so strictly social with the gang, and you didn’t take your invitation lightly.

It wasn’t exactly formal, but Jubilee was able to confirm your suspicion that it wasn’t exactly casual either. You showered, taking more time than usual to exfoliate and moisturize, trying to pamper yourself into relaxing and getting excited for the night ahead, trying to ignore Remy’s words from earlier bouncing around your head.

Two simple words that have had you in a tailspin since he said them so casually. ‘I’d know.’

The trouble maker in you wanted to test him on it, and you did a quick assessment of yourself to see if you could. Fresh out of the shower but mostly dressed, you were presentable. Should you take a quick trip overseas, hop over to France for some wine for tonight and back in a blink? You closed your eyes and heard a knock on your door just as you were about to take off.

You opened your door more suspicious than you’d care to admit, suddenly paranoid that Gambit sniffed you out, but you were met with Jubilee instead, weighed down with garment and shopping bags from the mall.

“You never answered me! I have your pretzel and you promised we’d do makeup together so-“ it was all the preamble she gave before forcing the pretzel on you and making herself at home in your room.

“I was showering! And I really thought you were going to be gone longer?”

“I just had to pick up some stuff I ordered for tonight, plus giving you and Gambit some time to flirt didn’t seem like a bad thing.”

You rolled your eyes, “We have banter, definitely, but I’m not sure I’d call it flirting. He flirts with everyone.”

“So you realize that what he does with you is different?” She turns it on you but you’ve heard it before.

“Yes, different as in he’s not interested!”

Jubilee made a sound of frustration before giving up and asking for help with contour. You dropped the subject and fell back into your usual routine, an easy friendship that reminded you more of sisters than friends. You showed up at the mansion looking for a place to stay while you visited old haunts, and you made a friend in Jubilee who was willing to venture into those places with you, even if it meant confronting ghosts.

“Lucky for you I think I found the perfect way to test his level of interest. You didn’t pick out what you’re wearing yet, did you?”

“Well yeah, I was just going to wear-” You started motioning to the dress you picked for tonight, but Jubilee was moving and cutting you off before you even finished.

“Okay so scrap that, I grabbed something for you at the mall,” she reached for one of the garment bags she had laid across your bed, “and if this doesn’t get a reaction out of him, I’m at a loss. What do you think?”

She unzipped the bag and your eyebrows flew up so fast you wondered if they were still there. It was hot pink, sequined, and most noticeably, short and backless. You reached out to touch it and couldn’t deny how beautiful it was. Sure, the pink was a lot and it showed more skin than you were strictly comfortable with, but you couldn’t deny that the striped details of the sequins were gorgeous, or that the dress would hug and accentuate your curves…dangerously.

“Now tell me what’s really going on because there’s no way you were able to afford this dress.”

Jubilee snorted, “You got me, it comes with a letter.” She handed you a small envelope you promptly opened and started reading.

‘Your young friend told me you planned to attend a party wearing some frumpy thing off a rack and that’s simply unacceptable for my niece, I have a reputation to uphold, Y/N ;) Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Sincerely, your Fairy DevilFather (p.s. TRY to have fun?)’

“Lucifer intervened to send me a dress?? How did you two even contact each other?”

“I answered your phone once when he called while you were showering. We really hit it off, he actually sent me one too!” She excitedly pulled out another bag and showed you an equally gorgeous, albeit much more modest dress. Part of you wanted to argue, but another part of you realized how exciting this was for your friend and you weren’t about to let her down when she was waiting for you to join her excitement.

“I think we might be best dressed tonight?” You smirked and she whooped, celebrating her victory.

“Oh I’m ready, maybe everyone will finally accept the fact that I’m 20 and stop treating me like I’m still 15.”

You knew it was a sore point for her, but you still smiled. The way all of the x-men treated Jubilee as their adopted child was something that endlessly warmed your heart, even if it frustrated your friend. The two of you took your time helping each other get your hair and makeup perfect before donning your dresses and leaving your bedroom, having already started to hear the arrival of a few guests and the slight murmur of conversation.

You stopped just short of the stairs, turning to face Jubilee, “Don’t they say ‘fashionably late’ is a good thing?” Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you, wearing such a risque dress to attend a party with lots of new faces.

“I think we’ve already reached fashionably late, babe, if we wait any longer they’ll think something is wrong.” You took a deep breath and started to make your way down the stairs. The mansion was empty, signalling that everyone else had already made their way out to the garden.

The sun was just beginning to set when the two of you arrived to find the party already in full swing. Jean and Scott were dancing, Logan and Hank sharing a drink by the bar, and around 20 faces you had never seen interspersed with the rest of the team. You heard a low wolf whistle behind you and felt a hand on your lower back.

“Breaking hearts tonight, chere?” Remy was on you before you could even turn to look at the sound.

“If I’m lucky.” You shrugged.

“Think I have enough of that for the both of us.” He winked and you tried and failed to suppress a snort that only made him grin wider.

You turned to say something to Jubilee and your eyes narrowed when you realized the little traitor had run over to greet her friends, leaving you and Gambit alone. She looked your way and winked as you openly glared at her.

“Well it looks like I’ve been ditched so I’ll need to borrow some of it.” You grimaced in the direction of the crowd, not needing to elaborate.

“All yours, chere.” He offered you his arm and you accepted, making your way into the party and jumping right into a flurry of introductions, hugs and handshakes that Remy led you through, guiding you away when it was time to move on.

It seemed innocent enough but you couldn’t stop focusing on the fact that Remy’s hands never left you. Whether it was an arm wrapped protectively around your waist or his hand on your exposed lower back, lazily tracing shapes you couldn’t make out, it was becoming increasingly distracting. He introduced you to Kurt and you only caught 30% of the conversation, too distracted by Remy’s hand tracing the curve of the dip at the back of your dress. You were relieved when Remy excused the two of you to go grab a drink.

“Admit it, not as bad as you thought.” Gambit smirked at you, leading you to a table where Logan and Jubilee were catching up.

You rolled your eyes, “I never thought it would be bad, I just,” You took a deep breath, “I don’t know, I guess I was worried I wouldn’t fit in here, or that everyone would be wondering why I’m even here but too polite to say anything.”

Logan and Jubilee both looked in your direction, hearing the tail end of your conversation that you didn’t bother hiding from them. Logan very openly looked you up and down before chuckling and taking a sip of what you suspected to be whiskey.

“No one’s kicking you out of here looking like that, that’s for sure.” It was maybe the first time the wolverine had ever given you a compliment and you blushed.

“You clean up rather nicely yourself, Logan.”

“Then why are you spending all night with the cajun instead of talking to me?” You were surprised but did your best to cover it up, meanwhile Jubilee was fighting off a laugh herself by taking a sip of her drink.

“Because the cajun knows how a lady should be treated.” Gambit grumbled, leveling Logan with a look before departing briefly to get the both of you drinks.

“Does he?” Logan asked you while you sat to join them, shooting him a quizzical look before he continued, “Know how to treat a lady?”

“How much have you had, Logan?” You asked, eyeing his drink.

“Not that much, darlin’. Answer the question.” If there was one thing you loved about Logan it was his lack of bullshit, and judging by the look on Jubilee’s face as she waited for your answer, right now it was probably her favorite thing about him too,

“He’s been a perfect gentleman, but we’re just friends.” You tried to say it in a way that wouldn’t reveal how much that bothered you, but both of them knew better. Gambit returned a second later with your drinks and you only got two sips in before Logan insisted on a round of shots.

One round turned into two, turned into three, turned into…you lost count. Jubilee was swaying happily in her seat, having convinced the two men to let her join in with half shots somewhere around round three. Everyone’s judgement was impaired by that point, but she made a great argument about drinking for the first at home where she’s safe or something else you couldn’t remember anymore in your happily inebriated state.

A song came on and you gasped, turning towards the dancefloor and excitedly announcing your love for the song. What it was called? You couldn’t remember if your life depended on it, but you needed to dance. You locked eyes with Remy who smiled but shifted his eyes away awkwardly, causing you to quickly deflate.

“Have you even had a dance yet tonight, Y/N?” Logan asked you suspiciously.

“Not yet.” You pouted, considering heading out on your own, dance partner be damned.

“Knows how to treat a lady my ass.” Logan grumbled in Gambit’s direction, shooting a glare at him before getting up and begrudgingly but kindly offering you his hand.

“Oh. my. GOD.” Jubilee squealed, far too gone to contain her excitement at the drama, as she would say.

You beamed at Logan, accepting his hand and making a run for the dance floor, pulling him along behind you.

“That crazy cajun might try to take my head off later for this.” Logan grumbled, settling his arms at your waist while you threw yours around his neck, getting closer than was strictly necessary so the two of you could continue your talk while dancing. Your eyes shifted over to where you just left your friends and you felt a stabbing pain in your chest when you looked for Remy just to see he had also made his way over to the dance floor, with Rogue.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Logan.” Your eyes were starting to tear up and you looked up trying to stop it as Logan became worried, turning to figure out what made you so upset. His eyes landed on Gambit and he growled, holding you a little closer as he actively tried to calm down.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t.” You laughed, “He’s allowed to be with whoever he wants.”

“Yeah, but he’s not allowed to follow you around all night like a lovesick puppy just to ditch you when he catches another scent.”

You smiled sadly, “He was being a good friend earlier, that’s it.”

Logan pulled you closer and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I watched his hands stray all over you, Y/N,” He touched your bare back to emphasize his point, “He’s not a friend, he’s a coward.” You couldn’t take it anymore and hugged Logan, hiding your face in his chest to let a few tears escape, hoping you would feel a bit better if you could get some of your distress out.

“Might have to kill em for making you cry.” Logan grumbled and you laughed, smiling up at him despite yourself.

“Believe it or not you’re helping enough like this.” The two of you continued dancing and Logan’s discomfort wasn’t wasted on you, but he’d be damned if he let the two of you leave that dance floor before Gambit and Rogue. He was making a point.

The music began to slow down and Rogue and Gambit finally went their separate ways. You watched as Remy found Jubilee again and made their way back over to the table, you turned to Logan.

“Think we should head back?” He looked behind you and shook his head.

“We finally get a song that’s more my speed and you want to leave?” He shook his head no and pulled you closer, making you laugh and rest your head on his chest as the two of you swayed lazily.

“Thank you, Logan. It’s not how I expected the night to go but I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you.”

“Dancing with you looking like that isn’t exactly a punishment.” He snarked and you chuckled.

“Mind if I cut in?” You looked up to meet red eyes, Remy looking between you and Logan harshly before addressing you again more quietly, “Didn’t Gambit ask you to save him a dance?”

You hesitated and Logan took that as his cue, “Bad timing cajun, Y/N just said she was getting dizzy, we’re heading back to the table.” Logan put his arm around you and lead you out of there, leaving Gambit to grumble and trail the two of you back.

Jean had joined Jubilee to rest and eyed the three of you quizzically as you made your return.

“Y/N!! I found out that shots of vodka with cranberry juice is amazing, look!” She held out a shot for you and you grabbed it and threw it back before Logan and Remy could even finish their protests.

“Chere! Didn’t you say you were dizzy?” Gambit took the shot glass out of your hand, leading you to a chair.

“From the dancing, Rem! I definitely haven’t had enough to drink yet.”

Jubilee whooped and passed you another shot, clinking it to her own before you both threw them back. Jean looked at you even more confused and you tapped your temple with a wink, an agreed upon gesture inviting her to read your mind.

“Rough night but I promise everything is okay, just need to drown my sorrows a little with you guys. Logan’s been doing his best.”

You heard Jean’s response in your head, “Fair enough. I’ve been cutting Jubilee’s shots with a lot of cranberry juice. Seriously, a LOT.”

You struggled to mask your laugh, “As I was saying, definitely not enough to drink, I’m gonna go-“ You stood and made your way to the bar on your own before anyone else could say anything, but you could feel a few sets of eyes watching you leave.

Someone had been manning the bar, but as the night wore on and the guests dwindled, those of you remaining were left to fend for yourself. You assessed your options and reached for the gin, giving that a generous pour before adding sprite, a splash of cranberry juice, and a lime wedge before you can talk yourself out of it.

“That looks amazing, can you make me one too?” Jubilee had appeared at your side and you smiled before making her a much more restrained version of yours. “Now I need you to tell me eeeeevery detail of you and Wolvie dancing I mean I neeeever-“

“To be clear,” you interrupted, sipping at your drink, “It was a pity save when it became painfully obvious Remy wasn’t going to ask.”

“After spending literally all night following you around and basically growling at anyone that tried to get near you, what’s up with that??” She made a good point but you weren’t sure what she meant by that first part.

“Pause, rewind, what are you talking about ‘basically growling’?”

“You seriously didn’t realize how handsy he got with you when Kurt started getting friendly?”

You realized you were drunk when you couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, “I was so distracted by him being handsy I didn’t even hear whatever Kurt was saying to make the connection.”

Jubilee nearly spat her drink in your face and she started smacking you excitedly, “Can you please please go tell him that??”

“But then he didn’t ask me to dance!! He pointedly looked away!!”

“So Logan? What happened there?” You were starting to suspect your friend wasn’t nearly as inebriated as you thought, her tone sounding surprisingly sharp shifting gears.

“I really don’t think there’s anything more than his mother-hen instincts going on there.”

Her eyes rolled and she shrugged, “I’d agree if it was just one dance, but-“

“Again, pretty sure that was to save me from being zeroed in on Gambit’s dance with Rogue..”

She didn’t have a response for that one and she simply clinked your drink before you both took generous sips, “Don’t tell Jean.” You whispered as you topped both of your glasses off before heading back to the group.

Jean had left to track down Scott who was mingling in the small groups that remained, some still dancing but most everyone else was doing the same as your small group. Jubilee bounced into the seat next to Logan and you drifted a beat too long before sitting next to Gambit. The silence that stretched between the two of you was no longer as comfortable as it was earlier, so you broke and piped up first.

“I almost tested you earlier, you know.”

“Almost?” Remy squinted at you, “Been testing me all night, chere.”

You narrowed your eyes back but decided not to engage, continuing your thought instead, “When you said you’d know if I left?” His playful glare dropped and he waited on your next words, “Just a quick trip before the party but still, decided against it.”

Remy chewed on what you were saying and not saying, wondering how the night had gotten so far away from him. Everything started out better than he expected, getting to show you around the party, not letting you too far out of sight in that dress, and then the hesitation. His own doubt sneaking in, reminding him that Y/N is quite literally an angel, he knew her place in the world, but his? He looked over at you waiting for a response and decided that didn’t matter right now.

“Still have sea legs or are you about ready for that dance, chere?” He didn’t leave you much room to answer, already standing with his arm extended.

“You know I literally just sat back down, right?” He rolled his eyes at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet alongside him. Your night was clearly nowhere near over and you gave in, letting Remy lead you back onto the dance floor and into his arms.

#gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #xmen #x men the animated series #x men 97 #remy lebeau #gambit #gambit xmen #light angst #in which reader and gambit are both complete idiots #but we love them anyway #tw drinking

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