#erik lehnsherr x mutant reader

[librababe99]

Storms of Vengeance

cw: MDNI, 18+, Young! Erik Lehnsherr Mutant! Reader, emotional and psychological manipulation, sexual themes, toxic relationships Word count: 1.6K Summary: You're a powerful weather mutant, caught in the magnetic pull of Erik Lehnsherr, a man consumed by his vision of mutant supremacy. As the storm rages around you, so does the undeniable tension between you both. Will you join him in shaping a new world, or will you resist the storm within and unleash your vengeance?

A/N: Alright no one asked for this.. BUT i'll be honest if young! Charles doesn't have a grip on me its definitely Erik <3 Also yes, I gave the reader similar powers to Ororo (love her btw!). I felt like it worked perfectly, adding to the complexity and moral ambiguity of two powerful individuals "falling in love". I use that loosely...lol...

(Marvel Masterlist)

The wind howled, whipping against your skin as you stood at the edge of the cliff. Below, the ocean churned violently, black waves crashing against jagged rocks. Thunder rumbled overhead, as if the heavens themselves were embroiled in the war that had just taken place. You could still taste blood in the air, feel the adrenaline that had carried you through the battle coursing through your veins.

But the fight wasn’t over. Not yet.

Erik Lehnsherr stood behind you, his presence as heavy as the storm that surrounded you both. He hadn’t said anything since the skirmish ended, but you could feel his eyes on you, as constant and unrelenting as the rain that soaked your clothes. You were a mystery to him, and that made you dangerous.

He had always been drawn to power—first for survival, then for vengeance. And now, his hunger had evolved into something far more insidious: domination. You were his equal in power, though neither of you had admitted it. He could command metal, bend the very earth around him with a flick of his wrist. You commanded the weather—thunder, lightning, wind, and rain—your power could rip apart the sky itself.

It was no coincidence that a storm brewed when the two of you were near. The atmosphere mirrored the tension, the volatile energy that sparked between you. But there was something more beneath the surface, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

“Another victory,” Erik said, his voice cutting through the wind. He stepped closer, his tall frame casting a long shadow even in the dim light of the storm. “Another step toward our cause.”

The "cause." It was all Erik ever spoke of. The Brotherhood, mutant supremacy, his grand vision of a new world where mutants ruled and humans bowed before them. But there was something in his tone tonight that unsettled you.

You turned to face him, your eyes narrowing as lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating his face in stark relief. His sharp features looked even more dangerous in the half-light, his eyes glinting like steel.

“Is that all this is to you?” you asked, your voice low but strong, cutting through the wind and rain. “Another victory? Another step toward a war you can’t win?”

Erik’s lips curled into a cold, humorless smile. He stepped closer still, his boots sinking into the wet earth. You could feel the magnetic field radiating from him, pulling on the metal debris scattered around the battlefield. Even the earth seemed to respond to his will.

“We are winning, my dear,” Erik replied smoothly, his eyes gleaming. “The humans are crumbling. Their resistance is futile, and soon they will be nothing more than relics of a past we will bury. You’ve seen it yourself—how they flee before us. They know their time is up.”

You clenched your fists, feeling the storm respond to your growing frustration. The wind picked up, swirling around the two of you, and rain lashed harder against your skin. The clouds above thickened, rolling in darker and more menacing than before.

“And you think that’s victory?” you demanded, stepping toward him, closing the gap between you. “Killing them? Burning their cities? Is that the future you want for our kind?”

Erik’s eyes flashed with something dangerous, something dark and cold that made your breath hitch. He reached out suddenly, his gloved fingers brushing against your cheek, and despite the chill in the air, his touch was almost warm.

“What I want,” Erik said, his voice soft but filled with a dark intensity, “is a world where our kind is no longer hunted. A world where we are no longer afraid. And I will destroy anyone who stands in the way of that future.”

His fingers lingered on your skin, and you felt a pull—like gravity, like the storm itself was reaching out to you, as though Erik’s very presence had somehow woven itself into the tempest. Your pulse quickened despite yourself, and the heat between your bodies grew, like a fire stoked by the raging winds.

“I know you feel it,” Erik continued, his hand slipping to your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His voice was lower now, more intimate. “You know what we could achieve together. You’re powerful—more powerful than you let on. I’ve seen it in the way the skies bend to your will, the way the winds obey your command. We could be gods, you and I. Or…” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Or you can remain my most dangerous weakness.”

You inhaled sharply, the tension between you palpable. His words wrapped around you, tightening like a vice. You knew what he was offering. Power. Partnership. A future forged in fire and blood. Erik wasn’t just asking you to join him—he was asking you to surrender to him. To let him in, to allow the force of his vision to consume you.

The storm surged around you, lightning cracking through the sky, illuminating the battlefield for a split second. You felt the storm respond to your emotions, the air thick with static, the winds howling in tandem with your inner turmoil.

Could you trust him? Could you stand beside him, knowing the darkness that lived in his heart?

Erik’s hand tightened on your jaw, his thumb brushing your lips in a way that made your heart race. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispered, his voice softening. “You and I, we’re the same. We’ve both been broken by this world. But together, we can remake it.”

Your mind screamed at you to resist, to fight back, to remind him that you weren’t his to command. But your body—your body betrayed you. There was something intoxicating about Erik’s power, something magnetic about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered. The storm outside paled in comparison to the storm inside you.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered, your voice shaky, betraying the emotions swirling inside. “But I will not be your pawn.”

Erik’s eyes darkened, his hand sliding down from your jaw to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat in a possessive grip. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but the promise was there, the unspoken threat lingering in the air between you.

“Who said anything about being a pawn?” Erik murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. “I don’t want to control you. I want to unleash you.”

The storm intensified, lightning striking the ground dangerously close to where you both stood. The rain beat down harder, as if nature itself was crying out in protest to the madness that surrounded you. But all you could focus on was Erik—his eyes locked onto yours, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Your breaths came in shallow gasps as Erik’s thumb brushed the sensitive skin of your throat, his other hand resting against your waist. The tension was unbearable, the storm inside you colliding with the storm outside. You knew that once you gave in, there would be no turning back.

In that moment, something inside you snapped.

Without thinking, you grabbed Erik’s hand, pulling him closer, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that was as violent as it was desperate. The storm answered in kind, thunder booming overhead, lightning splitting the sky in jagged streaks of white-hot energy. Erik responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you with a possessive hunger, as if he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

His lips were cold at first, but they warmed quickly, the heat between you building until it felt like the storm wasn’t just around you but within you. Erik’s hands were everywhere—on your waist, on your back, in your hair—each touch sending shockwaves through your body.

You pushed against him, forcing him back toward the cliff's edge, the rain-soaked ground slippery beneath your feet. He let you lead, let you push him, but you both knew he could stop you at any moment if he wanted. This was his power, his control, but for now, he let you have the illusion of it.

When you finally broke the kiss, your chest was heaving, and Erik’s eyes were blazing with something dark and primal. The storm raged around you both, rain drenching your clothes, but neither of you cared.

Erik’s hand tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him as he whispered in your ear, “Do you see it now? The power we could wield together?”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way his words made your heart race, made your blood sing with the temptation of it. You could feel the storm inside you reaching a breaking point, a chaotic force begging to be unleashed.

“I see it,” you admitted, your voice barely audible over the wind. “But I don’t trust you, Erik.”

His grip on you tightened, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, might lose the facade of control. But then, a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Trust is irrelevant,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with dark promise. “What matters is power. And you, my dear, have more of it than you realize.”

Before you could respond, Erik’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into another kiss—this one rougher, more demanding. His teeth grazed your lip, and you gasped into his mouth, feeling the raw intensity of his desire radiating from him like heat.

He wanted you—body and power alike. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, the weight of it settling deep in your chest.

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

The Tragedy of What Was Masterlist

part I ♟️

part II (coming soon)

[m4rv3l-girl]

Mind Games

Erik x Y/N

Erik didn’t know she was telepath. He has a very active imagination���

Requests Open!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual themes

Only a few weeks had passed since the introduction of Erik Lehnsherr to Y/N. The introduction had been brief but left an aura of lingering tension between them. Y/N couldn't help but notice how Erik's eyes find their way toward her in a room full of people. What Erik didn't know, however, was that every thought in his head was available to her like an open book.

Y/N's mutant ability? She could read minds, and Erik's was a particularly loud one-borderline inappropriate most of the time, to say the least. He thought he was subtle, but his inner monologue told her otherwise.

Tonight they were in the kitchen, alone. The others had all gone off to bed and only the two of them were left behind in the silent space bathed in the soft, indirect light from above. Erik stood by the counter, drinking his coffee without really tasting it while Y/N leaned against the island, stirring a cup of tea.

They spoke of everything under the sun but his mind was elsewhere.

"She's beautiful." "She probably doesn't even like me, though." "God, what I wouldn’t give to kiss her-”

Y/N stifled a smile. She'd gotten used to the whirling chaos of Erik's thoughts, full of admiration and compliments with the stray thought that, more times than not, could have turned the kitchen ten degrees hotter. Tonight, though, was different, and Y/N could feel it even before Erik's next thought echoed in her head.

“She has such gorgeous lips. I bet they’re soft…bet they’re good at-..No, no don’t think that.”

“But, then again….she’d look good on her knees. Looking up at me. Her mouth around my-”

Y/N's spoon clattered onto the counter, breaking the silence. Erik's eyes snapped up to hers in surprise.

"Sorry," she muttered, tucking back a laugh. She looked at him and saw the faintest flush on his cheeks. He hadn't any idea she'd just heard his most intimate thought.

She'd been playing this game, concealing her skills from Erik for weeks now. She found it amusements-end that, with quite a frequency, his mind veered off in dangerous directions. It wasn't that she didn't like him- quite the opposite. He was magnetic, charming in a brooding sort of way. There was attraction between them, mutual in its forging, though only Y/N was cognizant of both sides.

But standing here, her mind traipsing further down a road she probably shouldn't follow, Y/N knew it was time to show her hand. "Erik," she said, breaking the comfortable silence. He raised an eyebrow, setting his coffee cup down. "What is it, darling?" She hedged, watching his response closely. His brow furrowed with concern, probably misreading the seriousness in her expression.

Y/N took a deep breath. "I'm a mutant, like you," she blurted out, and he nodded, expecting her to continue. "But my ability… is that I can hear people's thoughts."

Erik blinked at her, bewildered at first, then realization dawned on him. His mouth opened, though nothing was heard coming from it. She could practically see gears turning in his head. All that stuff he had been thinking for the last couple of weeks piled onto him in one second.

"She heard. everything?!" "Oh God, shit. Oh, hell."

His face flushed red as he stared at her, mortified. "You- you've been,” "Listening to you?" Y/N finished for him with her lips twitching into a grin. "Yeah, I have."

Erik groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Dear God, I thought I was being subtle." "Not even a little, Erik." Y/N couldn't help it and burst out laughing. It was a rare sight, the ever-composed Erik flustered like that.

He peeked at her between his fingers. "And you've heard…. Everything I've been thinking?" "Mm-hmm," Y/N replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of her tea like this was the most normal conversation in the world. "You've had some pretty interesting thoughts, Erik." Erik looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "Darling-”

Y/N stepped closer, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Relax. It's not like I didn't already know how you felt."

He blinked at her again, this time less with embarrassment, more with curiosity. "You did?"

"I've known since the first time you walked into the room," she admitted, softer then. "And, for the record, I don't mind your thoughts. I kinda like them."

A small smile turned up the corners of Erik's lips; his embarrassment was quickly replaced with one of more confidence. He closed the space between them, stepping closer to her. "You could've told me sooner, love."

Y/N shrugged, placing her cup on the counter. "Where's the fun in that?”

Erik laughed, his hands tenderly reaching out to lay on her hips. "I just can't believe I spent weeks making a fool of myself inside of my own head."

"Oh, you were doing just fine out loud too," Y/N teased, grinning back up at him.”

He smirked, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "Well, since you already know what I've been thinking, there's no point in hiding it anymore, is there?"

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat as he leaned in, his voice dropping lower. "You've been driving me insane, darling. Every time I see you.”

Y/N's breath caught, her mind buzzing with the proximity. "You could have said something." "I'm saying it now," Erik murmured, his lips inches from hers. "Unless you've changed your mind?" "Not at all, dear," Y/N whispered, closing the distance.

Their lips met in a slow, heated kiss, and for once, Erik didn't have to say a word. But Y/N was more than happy to hear every single, dirty thought running through his mind.  She knew it was going to be a hell of a lot more fun now that the game was out in the open.

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Right now the thought of a Harry Potter and X men crossover has taken over my brain.

Imagine Harry standing in the bedroom with Ron and Hermione at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione's just told him that Dumbledore made them swear not to reveal anything meaningful to him over the summer holidays.

Harry's annoyance quickly turns into anger at the fact that the people he cares so much about were persuaded so easily by his Headmaster. His anger builds and the world goes grey. Everything freezes as if time itself has come to a screeching halt.

Harry's breaths turn shaky as he tries to understand what's going on. Right before his eyes, four misty paths appear. The first path shows him forgiving Ron and Hermione and staying in Grimmauld Place with Sirius. The second path has him visiting Gringotts and allying himself with the goblins. The third has him bumping into Hannah Abbott in Diagon Alley and turning his back on Wizarding Britain.

The fourth path intrigues him the most. Harry notices a mansion that reminds him of Hogwarts but he sees people using their powers openly and working as a team. Fuelled with the desire for change, Harry chooses that path.

The mist swirls around him and when he reopens his eyes, he's sitting in the mansion on a chair being observed by multiple pairs of worried eyes.

Harry's story spills out of him without much prompting and a man with metallic blue eyes finds himself drawing parallels between his life and the teen's. Harry watches him soften the tiniest amount when another person enters the room.

He learns that the man's name is Erik and the second you draw level with Erik, he wraps an arm around your waist and yanks you to his side, needing the comfort that your presence brings. You're quickly filled in, and Harry has the unshakeable feeling that you know more about Wizarding Britain than anyone else in the room.

Time passes. Raven is delighted to have a little brother who accepts her immediately because he knows how it feels to be isolated over something you can't control. Harry doesn't know how you manage it but somehow MACUSA finds out about the state of Wizarding Britain. Once MACUSA is involved, other wizarding places involve themselves and Wizarding Britain undergoes a massive overhaul and Voldemort is defeated before the first Wizarding War.

Harry learns to harness his gift and in doing so, saves many of his friends from those who want to harm them. Working alongside the other mutants, Harry feels protected for the first time in a long time. He's not treated like a child one minute and a saviour the next. Harry's never treated as a pariah.

He feels at home in Charles' mansion and occasionally, when he peeks out of a window that overlooks the grounds, he sees flashes of Wizarding Britain but then, he blinks or focuses on something closer to him and the images fade away.

[kaznejis]

Make it Fun, don't trust anyone- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

“I can feel it.” He spoke, refusing to meet your eyes as he visibly failed to prevent his thoughts from spilling, “I could sense the metal as soon as we left the building; I could sense your necklace, the rims of your sunglasses, the iron in your blood, and that ring.”  His words turned to venom at the procurement of the final item, you watched as he grit his teeth; smoothing a hand over his head as his jaw clenched. Anger bloomed at the pits of your stomach in response, anger at his audacity to attempt to stake such ownership over you, “You were gone, Erik.” You spat, turning to him, anger blazing in your eyes; as reflected by the shock upon his face, “What? Did you expect me to wait around like a child? Wait for you to come back on the slim chance that it would happen?”

A/N: Hello! If anyone sees this, I hope you enjoy! If not, this is entirely self sufficing and I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. Just to note, sorry if the scenes taken from the movie seem a little..rushed? If there's one thing I do not enjoy it's working out how to incorporate existing scenes into canon compliant fanfiction. The struggle.

Word Count: 6,692 / Read it on AO3!

If you'd like to see more from me about Erik- please feel free to send in any requests! :)

The Cuban sunlight had acted as the perfect antithesis to your situation; the gaping hole that had formed and taken a residual spot within your ribcage as you knelt beside Charles, screaming and crying at the lack of feeling in his legs. 

But your eyes had not been upon him. 

You had stared up at Erik, stomach collapsing at his stoic gaze; only remnants of his grief were prevalent to yourself, the person that had known him most in the world. That wretched helmet had sat upon his head, his eyes empty with the melancholy of his own steadfast determination. 

“Join me.” He had whispered, his lower lip trembling as his eyes finally landed upon you; the first time since you had boarded the plane to Cuba. He had reached out then, his palm splayed towards you; hope swimming in his eyes as he beckoned you forward. 

You had simply shaken your head, lips tight and breaths heaving as you held his gaze. You watched as his heart broke, as his eyes glistened and bloodied hands trembled. You watched as he nodded and as he turned away from you. Turned away from the love that you had shared, choosing his own foolish endeavours of revenge over you. Allowing grief to swallow you, you had ducked your head; unable to watch as he walked away, unable to face Charles, writhing in the pain of your lovers’ actions. 

That had been it- you had returned to the school. Welcoming and accepting prospective students; working as an administrator and overseeing the school’s board. It had been good, amazing- supplying a necessary distraction to the heartbreak you had endured and a chance to improve your powers, learn from the experiences of others. There, in your reluctant state of happiness, you had met Adam. 

Adam, the school’s mutant psychology teacher; specialising in mind-based and largely telekinetic powers. Your curiosity regarding Erik’s powers had led you to him, sitting beside his desk; asking question after question. Questions soon turned into conversations and you soon found yourself being courted. All the traditional romances that had never crossed your mind when with Erik had become your reality; constant flowers, gifts, candle-lit dinners as your heels caressed his leg beneath the table. 

Your family had loved him, adored him. They had never met Erik, for obvious reasons, and whilst they were more supportive of your mutant gene than the average family; they had hoped that you would still be able to live the average life. Meaning, that you would acquire the average husband. Your family had practically demanded that you married him despite only being a year into the relationship, the pointed remarks about you being ‘unwedded at such an age’ a constant force at each gathering. 

So, you had. You had adorned the white dress, the large diamond ring, and Charles had granted his blessings by allowing you to host the wedding on the school’s grounds. Everyone and anyone that could have possibly been there had been in attendance, a day simply to forget about the wrongdoings of the past, the present and the future. 

On paper, everything was perfect. 

“Do you ever think about him?” Charles had asked, the night before your wedding, the two of you nursing a glass of scotch each within his office. 

You had exhaled through your nose, a lodge forming at the base of your throat, “No.” Despite the pronunciation of such a small, singular word; your voice had croaked, your chest trembling pathetically. 

Charles had simply nodded, his eyes flickering; his powers catching your obvious lie. “He’s in prison now, you know?” 

You nodded, humming affirmatively, your gut twisting at the reminder. 

“Are you sure you want to go through with tomorrow?” 

“I do.” You smirked, a failed attempt at humour as Charles had only looked back at you with sympathy, “I can’t sit here and say that Erik is never on my mind but… this is for the best.” 

Charles had only nodded, his face twisting as hair fell before his eyes, “He will never bother us again, I will make sure of that.” 

Whilst you had thanked him, smile wide and eyes crinkling as you both raised a glass; you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach had swooped in disappointment. The way your chest had heaved with unbridled pain, simply at the thought of never seeing Erik again. You would wrestle with it for the years to come- the guilt of constantly thinking of another man as you lay beside your husband. 

Your love with Erik had, to simply put it, been enigmatic; fuelled by passion- both by the mission at hand and the way you felt for each other. There had been awful, screaming fights on the worst days and entangled limbs with scratches lining his spine on the best. You had loved him with every ounce of your being, cared for him, yearned for him when he wasn’t there. Whilst you had endured the worst pains of your life with him, you had also been at your happiest. 

It had been toxic, ferocious, you had never known what would come next. 

You missed it every day. 

You passed the feeling off as pure delusion, your mutant gene playing cruel tricks on your mind as the years passed; as you grew bored. Bored of the same mundane life every day, bored of the simple forehead kisses, bored of that house. You and Adam remained within the dark confines of the manor instead of finding a place of your own following the fallout of the war in Vietnam; acting as support for Charles, who had steadfastly begun to dwindle in both his morality and his health. You had used this as an excuse every time Adam had attempted to introduce the necessary conversation of moving on, settling down. Children. You had deflected his attempts every time, claiming that you needed to be there for Charles, that you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t the right time. 

You knew for a fact that the reality lay within your inability to let Erik go, your inability to potentially miss the opportunity to catch a taste of his mere presence again. As the breadth of time since he left and the distance with Adam widened, you thought of Erik more and more. His serrating blue eyes and wicked charm haunted every moment, both awake and unconscious. You yearned for him, worried for him, hated him. You hated him for giving you up so easily, your lack of support in that specific moment signifying the end of everything, defining the status of the rest of your life. Sometimes, during the darkest of nights, the ones where you felt so alone, the nights where the wind howled and the trees drew vines and branches upon the walls- you imagined what it would have been like to join him, to have clasped his hand against yours and allowed him to lead you into the darkness.

Secretly, you knew that following Magneto would have led to your early demise, sometimes you pondered on whether that could have been a better end to your time together than your reality. 

But then, as Spring turned into Summer; as the grounds of the manour flourished in their unkempt state and the sun cast illuminations through the large windows- Logan arrived at your doorstep. A mission from the future, unbelievable if not for the pure conviction in his eyes. Unbelievable if not for the grief that haunted his strong features. 

You had been completely unprepared when Logan had stood from the chair you had offered him, yourself having been perched on the edge of Charles’ crumpled couch; your legs crossed and hands clasped with worry as he had detailed the horrors he had experienced, the horrors that he was there to prevent. He had paced the length of the table, surveying each resident of the room; you hadn’t missed the way his eyes had flickered between you and Adam; his forehead scrunching before his brows raised in amusement. 

“Ah…he warned me about this.” He grinned, flicking a finger between the two of you and scratching at the base of his head. “Kinda weird to see actually.” 

“Sorry?” You smiled politely, head swarmed with confusion, you looked over at Adam only to see he bore a similar expression, “He?” 

“We need to find Magneto,” Logan spoke determinedly, his gaze fierce, his voice taking a tone of finality. He was serious, conviction overtaking the air as the gravity of the situation dawned upon each resident.  

You knew that he was right. 

In that moment, you had been able to do nothing but stand and promptly leave the room; abandon the sound of Charles’ manic laughter that followed Logan’s words, Hank’s doubt that tended to suffocate a room. But most notably, you were abandoning your so-called husband’s silence.  

Somehow, you found yourself curled beneath your bed covers, arms crossed over your knees like a small child; your form shrunken in your fear and heartbreak and doubt, tremors racking your shoulders. As you attempted to steady your breathing, a knock sounded at your bedroom door. Expecting it to be Adam, you promptly rose from your position; scrubbing furiously at your swollen eyelids. 

But to your shock, Logan entered the room. 

“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” He held his hands out placantingly, slowly approaching you as if you were a timid animal, “I know you don’t know me, but I know you, Y/N, very well and… I wanted to check you were okay.” 

You nodded, crossing your arms and biting your lip as you mulled over the words he had spoken since his arrival, “It’s okay… I just- haven’t heard his name outside of my own head in a while.” 

“Erik?” 

You smiled, your heart blooming at his real name, the name you had known him by, “Yes… I’m assuming you know about us; I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve witnessed one of our messes for yourself,” He had smiled at that, his teeth glinting as he chuffed in amusement, though you could only stare at Logan, building the courage to ask what you desperately wanted to know, “When, you know, you were sent here… was Erik there?” 

“Yes.” Logan nodded. 

“Was I?” 

Logan nodded once again, though opted to do so silently this time. 

“What did he tell you about us?” 

Logan laughed properly then, a smile finally breaking across his face, “He told me not to meddle, that your situation is especially… sensitive, at this point.” He scratched a hand across his chin, his expression filled with nothing but pure mirth as he spoke, “Which I can see, seeing as though he’s locked one hundred feet underground and you’re married.” He finished that with a pointed look at your ring finger. 

You nodded, that you found yourself unable to match his amusement, unsure of exactly what it was he found funny, “I haven’t seen him in almost ten years.” You shrugged, “When I try to think about it, I don’t even know what he looks like anymore.” 

“But you still think about him?” 

You sighed, lowering your gaze to pick at the loose threads upon your old bed sheets; you had always been reluctant to get rid of them, the memories that they held with Erik remained too precious. Slowly and timidly, you spoke, “Every day.” 

Logan could only nod, an exhale sounding from his nose, “Well, if I can trust anything from my time knowing you; it’s your ability to give that man hell.” 

So, the following day; with an overly-energised, overly-excited teenage mutant in tow; Hank, Charles, and Logan had embarked en route for the Pentagon.

“Stay safe.” Adam had spoken as he leaned against the entrance to the house, having opted to stay behind; claiming that the house needed to be watched despite Logan being the first visitor in years. You had simply smiled at him, waving goodbye before turning towards the car; you didn’t miss the way the door had immediately slammed, Adam having chosen to waste no time in ensuring your safe departure. He had been quiet since Logan’s arrival, especially since the mention of Erik’s name and your obvious upset in response. 

You feared that despite his promise to protect the house, he would not be there upon your return. 

“I can’t believe you even married that guy.” Logan had mumbled, chuckling to himself and shaking his head as he slid into the car’s driver's seat; you could only manage a meager glare- your doubt regarding Adam had been clear even to yourself. 

Whilst the others performed the monumental task of attempting to free Erik; you had been tasked with organising the transport from the Pentagon and away, far away. You knew that Charles had orchestrated this purposefully, giving you the chance to see Erik as little as possible if necessary. You had accepted without a fight, you feared that if faced with Erik in a dire situation; you would act impulsively, irrationally. You feared that if faced with Erik, you would be able to do nothing but throw yourself into his arms. 

“Not appropriate.” You had mumbled to yourself at the thought, tapping a hand against the car’s wheel; dark aviators high upon your nose as you awaited. Your other hand hung from the drivers-side window, a dwindling cigarette balancing lazily between your fingers; it had been a nasty habit you had picked up in your adulthood, largely to Adam’s chagrin who had banned you from doing so indoors. You began to recognise that the stress of marriage had aged you significantly; the existence of service had overtaken your life in a way you hadn’t predicted. 

Just as you had begun to dwell upon your own disappointing life decisions; a loud bustle of noise exploded from the doors exiting the building’s kitchen; you only had a second to rescue your cigarette and balance it between your teeth before the group rushed to the car. Peter immediately sped ahead and claimed the passenger seat, grinning at you cheekily as he slid beside you; though this was quickly diminished when Logan slammed the car door back open, promptly gathering the teenager by the lapels of his jacket and ejecting him from the seat. You could only guffaw as he promptly plucked the cigarette from between your teeth, taking a hasty drag as the rest of the group piled into the back. 

You refused to glance at the rear mirror.

“Seriously Y/N?” Charles huffed exasperatedly from what you could assume was the seat directly behind you, the rustling of his jacket prevalent as he attempted to get comfortable in the tight squeeze of seats, “This may be a getaway car but it doesn’t mean you can abuse it to your will with your smoking.” 

You gritted your teeth, slamming your foot upon the pedal and pulling out onto the road; en route to the airport. Erik’s presence behind you plagued your mind, causing your fingers to tighten upon the wheel and your toes to curl within your shoes, every hair upon your neck stood ramrock straight as you waited, yearning for him to acknowledge you. 

This was what you had dreamed of, every night for years, and now you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. 

A gleam caught your eyes as you drove, suddenly all too aware of your left hand rested on the steering wheel. Your wedding ring still adorned upon your finger, glistening obnoxiously in the afternoon sun. Risking a glance, you rose your eyes to the rearview mirror- only to immediately flick your eyes back to the road before you. 

There, in the middle seat, sat Erik- his cheeks sunken, hollow; the effects of years in confinement were prevalent in his every feature. His skin was pale, almost ghastly; his haircut was shaggy, uncaring. But what shocked you the most, what made you pull your eyes away from the man you loved so suddenly- was the way his eyes, those hauntingly blue eyes, stared straight at you, straight at the ring upon your finger. You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from squeaking in response, the taste of blood plaguing your mouth as you willed yourself to focus on the road, focus on the mission at hand. 

You knew that Logan had witnessed every moment of that encounter, his dark eyes sunk into the side of your face as you determinedly stared forward, refusing to acknowledge any of the people around you. Alongside the stench of smoke, the air in the car was thick with tension- the aura of unspoken words choking every passenger. Even Peter, the usual chatterbox and the one who had spoken your ears off the entire way to the Pentagon had opted to stay silent; instead staring out of the window, his lips twisted in his own display of tension. 

As you drove in silence, you became all too aware of Erik’s presence; you found yourself pinpointing his specific breaths, the crinkle of his prisoner-assigned uniform, the shuffle of his legs against the side of your seat, the nervous tap of his finger against his knuckles. 

It was a miracle you managed to reach the airport. 

Upon saying goodbye to Peter, you determinedly pushed past the front-row seats of the private jet, opting to sit at the very rear of the plane alongside Logan, of which had simply raised an eyebrow and sighed as you lowered yourself before him, “You two are more pathetic than I expected.” He exhibited an air of nonchalance as he lit his cigar, despite the plane now very much being in the sky, and propped open a newspaper upon his lap- though it was prevalent that he found delight in watching the entire situation unfold. 

You raised your eyebrows, shrugging your shoulders stubbornly and sliding back against the base of the chair, “There’s no ‘us two’,” To which you complimented with the use of air quotes, “I am married, Logan.” 

Logan could only laugh at that, shaking his head, a habit he seemed to have picked up in his exasperation at what was unfolding before him, “You do realise I’m from the future right?” 

Scowling, you crossed your arms and opted to sulk at the back of the plane; still determinedly refusing to look Erik’s way- who was now engaging in a heated argument with Charles.

“Do I at least age well?” 

“Of course,” Logan smirked, holding his cigar up in a toast; though he was quickly interrupted by the creaking of metal as the foundations of the plane shook; Erik. Logan jumped forward and immediately threw the two of you to the ground- acting as a human shield as the plane began to tip sideways; Erik’s passion overtaking all rational thought as plates and glassware shattered beside you. 

“You abandoned us all.” He spoke with finality, Charles lay splayed across multiple seats, his hair a tangled mess as he gaped at Erik. You could only pull yourself back into your seat as Charles left for the cockpit, both you and Logan gasping at each other as you attempted to regain your stolen breath.

“So,” Logan grunted, fetching a new cigar and lighting it, “You were always an asshole then.” 

You could only scoff as Erik turned, facing you for the first time since boarding the plane; you noted the way his eyes landed upon anything, anywhere but you. 

“I bet we’re best buds in the future,” Erik smirked sardonically, his voice rough with the sudden severity of his outburst. 

Logan hummed, puffing on his cigar before offering you a puff, to which you politely declined, “Not like me and your old friend Y/N here are.” 

At the mention of your name, his hands spasmed at his sides; his fingers convulsing in a bodily reaction at the mere recognition of your existence. You would have felt excitement, love; if it weren’t for the way his eyes told a different story- cold and piercing as they landed upon you, his cheekbones twitching as he allowed himself a second of eye contact before he abruptly turned, returning to his seat across the plane. 

“Jesus,” Logan mumbled to himself, reclining in his seat and widening his eyes at you; you could only nod. Jesus.

With Erik and Charles opting to keep to themselves, the rest of the journey went swimmingly- immediately upon landing you wasted no time in departing from the suffocating air of the cabin; luxuriating in the deep breaths of fresh, evening air that greeted you. 

“We need to find somewhere to rest.” Charles spoke from behind you, “The drive to the next spot is too long and we’re all exhausted.” He glared pointedly at Erik then, who simply sighed; as you allowed yourself a glance at him, it was prevalent that he too was plagued by fatigue. His cheeks were more sunken than before, his eyes drooping as he visibly struggled to hold himself up. You yearned to reach out, place a hand on his spine and simply hold him, aid him as he wrestled with the weight of the world upon his back. But then, as his eyes turned towards yours, the weight of the wedding ring upon your finger prevailed once again; you could only turn away. 

Hank managed to find a group of last minute rooms at a nearby motel, though as he returned to the reception's waiting area, keys in hand, his nerves were ever-prevalent. “I only managed to get three rooms; two have two beds and another has one, I was thinking-” 

“I’m taking the solo room,” Logan ordered, snatching the key from Hank’s hand and sauntering down the hallway, though not without sending a wink over his shoulder at you. Bastard. 

“Oh-” Hank froze, the other keys dangling from his fingers- you could only watch as he winced, practically praying for you to forgive him with his eyes, “Charles, I doubt it would be safe for you to be with Erik, so I guess…” 

You could only sigh, electing every ounce of confidence you could embody before standing, cutting Hank off once again before retrieving a key from his hand, without turning you spoke, “Well, come on then, Erik.” 

You felt his presence behind you, each of you electing to say nothing as you unlocked the haggard wooden door; its hinges creaking as you pushed open the door. Before you stood two double beds, an only-just-comfortable distance between the two. Nodding to yourself, you entered the room, your fingers twirling the keys nervously as you surveyed the room; you felt the air thicken as the door slammed behind you- you felt like prey finally being cornered by the predator. 

Erik cleared his throat behind you, the sound thick and grating, “I’ll take the bed beside the door; would you like to use the bathroom first?” 

You turned towards him, shocked by his kindness; he could only stare back at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and exhaustion tinting his features. “I- Sure.” You could only croak, opting to briskly enter the bathroom; afraid of irrationality taking over your lovesick mind. Reaching behind the shower’s curtain, you turned on the water before stripping off your clothes, the sound of your ring clattering against the sink as you placed it down caused you to flinch, knowing that Erik would be all too aware of your every move from the other side of the door. 

You took your time in the shower, breathing in the warm steam and collecting yourself after the events of the day, collecting yourself in preparation for the events of the night that was to come. You could do this, even if it meant a sleepless night whilst Erik lay only feet away; whilst the object of all of your nightmares lay only feet away. It reminded you of a night, a night a long time ago; in a motel room just like the one you were in, his skin against yours; his breath hot against the base of your throat as he had slowly stripped you of your clothes, as he had kissed every inch of you. It reminded you of his pants as he pushed into you, his groans as he buried his sweat-coated forehead into the skin of your shoulder, biting and licking and sucking there as you became one. The way that he had moaned his love for you into the skin there, your responsive moans loud and uncaring as you had clawed at the skin of his back, gripped at the hair upon the base of his head- 

Stop; you shut off the hot water, stumbling from the shower as you panted, your cheeks and chest red with warmth as you desperately attempted to remove the memory from your mind. Gripping the porcelain of the sink, you eyed your pathetic reflection; willing, begging, yourself to let this go, let your silly daydreams go. This was reality, your reality. Getting through the night was the only necessity you needed to accomplish, then you could avoid Erik and promptly never see him again. 

You could go back to your husband, back to your life. 

Undeniably however, you couldn’t ignore the way Erik made you feel, the way his mere presence made you feel. Adam’s influence upon you paled entirely in comparison, your obligation to return to him simply one of duty, one to appease your family, one to live the ‘perfect’ life- be the perfect wife. But you craved more, you craved better; for years you had chased and yearned for the way Erik’s slightest touch had made you feel- the way that his love encompassed every molecule of your being; the way that he had branded you for life, rendered unable to ever feel the way you had felt with him again. Your thoughts of Erik made you all too aware of how long you had spent in the bathroom.

How long you had spent, very obviously, avoiding him. 

You emerged from the bathroom in nothing but the oversized shirt you had packed hastily to sleep in; swiping it from the bed due to the short notice you had received in regards to this trip. You felt bare, naked suddenly as you left the bathroom to Erik’s piercing gaze. He sat, fully clothed, lounging against the headrest; allowing a pen to swirl around his fingers, dancing from pointer to thumb as his wrist spun. Entrapped, you could only stand there and stare; stare at the beauty of his powers, at the beauty of him. 

“It feels good,” He spoke slowly, carefully, allowing the pen to drop onto the sheets beside him, “To use my powers again; to feel metal.” 

You nodded, smiling politely, unsure of exactly what to say in response. You opted to stay silent, allowing yourself to walk past him and into your own bed, the crinkle of the duvet loud in the silent room, loud within the silence that was swelling between you. 

“You aren’t wearing it,” Erik spoke suddenly, his voice slicing through the silence; to your shock. Once you recovered, you simply crooked an eyebrow at him, to which he spoke; swallowing his words audibly, “Your ring.” 

“Oh,” You shook your head, staring down at your empty finger, remembering that you had placed it on the sink, “I usually-” 

“I can feel it.” He spoke, refusing to meet your eyes as he failed to prevent his thoughts from spilling, “I could sense the metal as soon as we left the building; I could sense your necklace, the rims of your sunglasses, the iron in your blood, and that ring.” 

His words turned to venom at the procurement of the final item, you watched as he grit his teeth; smoothing a hand over his head as his jaw clenched. Anger bloomed at the pits of your stomach in response, anger at his audacity to attempt to stake such ownership over you, “You were gone, Erik.” You spat, turning to him, anger blazing in your eyes; as reflected by the shock upon his face, “What? Did you expect me to wait around like a child? Wait for you to come back on the slim chance that it would happen?” 

Slowly, at the pit of his lungs, he formed a laugh; his head shaking as his fingers trembled once again, “You think so lowly of me, Darling.” 

“You left me!” You were yelling now, rising from the tangled bed sheets as your chest heaved with anger, heaved with the heartbreak and sadness that had plagued you for the consequent years following his departure, “You left me.” 

“I gave you a choice, Y/N. You chose Charles, you were more than welcome to come with me.” 

You shook your head, scoffing, “Well… if I had gone with you; I would be dead by now.” Your tone held a sense of finality, as supported by your return to the bed as you promptly turned your back to him, curling up under the duvet and refusing to face his reaction to your words. His response followed in the slam of the bathroom door as he promptly left the room; leaving behind the stale air of your own regret. 

It felt like hours as you waited, wondered; hoped for him to come back. Hoped for the two of you to forget the words that had been said, to sleep comfortably in your separate beds and complete this mission as peacefully as possible; to go your separate ways and live your separate lives once again. 

In the depths of these daunting thoughts, you fell asleep; the exhaustion of the day’s tensions taking hold as your eyes slipped closed. You woke, hours later, to the moon’s rays spanning throughout the room; a ghostly glow hanging in the air as you rubbed at your eyes, glancing to your side, Erik was fast asleep; his sharp edges and soft hair illuminated in the scant light- you allowed yourself a moment, just that moment, to take him in. Drink in the features you hadn’t faced in almost a decade, the features you longed to reach out towards; to trail a finger down his jaw or scratch a nail upon his hair. His hair was wavy, a slightly damp smell filtered throughout the room told you that he too had taken the opportunity to shower. 

The thought of his broad shoulders and lean back illuminated by the spray of hot water did nothing to help the swarm of doubt swirling within your gut. Shaking your head, you reached into the bag beside your bed; fetching the box of cigarettes stashed within one of the inner pockets. 

Then, barefoot and in just a shirt, you shouldered open the room’s door, balancing a cigarette upon your lip as you did so before promptly lighting it, traversing the motel’s corridors silently before reaching the fire escape. Hoisting yourself upwards, you climbed up the ladders before finally reaching the building’s roof. The night was clear, quiet; the only sounds emerging from the distant highway and subsequent traffic- you listened out for any signs of disruption as you lowered yourself to the roof, allowing your legs to dangle from the side of the building. 

The silence of the night and the goosebumps prickling at your bare arms allowed the tears to emerge; it allowed them to pour down your cheeks, for snot to bubble at your nose and for your lips to tremble with unkempt sobs. You allowed for your hurt to take hold, for your hurt at Erik’s words and actions and simple presence to take hold. But then you allowed your hurt towards yourself to unfold; for allowing yourself to end up here, in this situation- living this life that you had manufactured for yourself. 

You couldn’t go back to that motel room, but most notably you couldn’t go back home. You couldn’t bear it anymore; the stresses of being within that barron manor were becoming too much to bear. If you couldn’t be with Erik, then you would rather be alone; somewhere far away, far away from here. You stewed upon this thought for a long time, as you lit your second, third and fourth cigarettes; it prevailed. 

Just as your fourth cigarette began to dwindle, the slam of a door sounded below you before hasty, alert footsteps lined the hallway. You rose, walking back towards the highest entrance of the fire exit before looking down; listening as the hurried steps continued, haggard breaths accompanying it. Opting to investigate, you lowered yourself onto the platform below before descending the stairs; entering the residential hallway of the hotel. There, at the end of the corridor stood Erik, the obvious source of the worried footsteps as his chest heaved; he was turning in place, visibly searching for something as he rushed down the hallway. 

“What-” You mumbled, slowly walking towards him as he had not yet spotted you. Finally, you decided to catch his attention; concerned as to whether there was some form of danger, “Erik?” You called, a hand shielding your eyes as you peered down the dark hallway. You watched as he froze at the sound of your words, his head snapping towards you as he drank in your presence, your appearance. 

“What the fuck-” He breathed, immediately shaking off his shock and advancing towards you, practically running as he reached you. Entirely unannounced, he swept you up into his arms; shaking as he lowered his head to your shoulder, practically breathing you in as he tightened his hold by the second. 

“Erik, what-” 

“What is your problem?” He pulled back almost as soon as it had begun, his breathing staggered as a blush covered his cheeks; he wore only the black tank top and sweatpants he had been asleep in, his hair a mess upon his head; as if he had just jumped from his bed, “I woke up and- and you were gone, your bed sheets were practically stale with how long you’ve been gone I-” 

“I’m fine.” You assured, catching his hands between your own as an attempt to calm him down; the worry he had been feeling now prevalent within the staggering of his chest and the blush at his cheeks, “I just went to have a smoke I- let’s get you back to the room.”

He nodded, his glassy eyes immediately beginning to droop as he allowed you to use your grasp on his hand to pull him down the hallway. Upon depositing him into his own bed, as you left to enter your own, a tight grip latched upon your wrist; you turned, only to be met with those blue eyes swarming with desperation, “Stay?”

You sighed, nodding reluctantly before crawling in beside him; allowing him to drape an arm over your waist, allowing him to rest his head upon yours. Before your departure, before the decision would be set; you could allow yourself this one thing, this one night of unplagued sleep as his comfort would ward away the nightmares that tended to tinge your nights. 

But, before you could fall asleep; Erik’s voice rumbled above you, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You could only shrug, pressing your nose to his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, “Me too, Erik.” 

He moved backwards then, settling so that his face lay directly before yours; the tip of his nose rubbing against yours with each second breath. It seemed that he could only muster a whisper as he continued to speak, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes grew wet as he spoke, his head shaking slightly as he smiled sadly. 

“Erik.” You whispered, your voice soft with contempt as you raised a hand to his cheek; brushing away the tears that had begun to fall there. Feeling him swallow against your wrist, you could only watch as his eyes flickered downwards, just as your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. Before you could register, he had moved; his lips pressed to yours as your cheeks grew wet with his steadily falling tears. Your mind allowed nothing else but to kiss back, to shift your leg upwards and to caress his cheek with your thumb. He kissed you earnestly, slowly; as if approaching a terrified fawn, testing the waters as to what you would allow him. You could practically taste the desperation perspiring his tongue, as you assumed he could yours. You would take anything, trade any parts of your wretched souls if it meant that you could feel this forever; feel the warmth of his tongue sliding against yours for every waking moment that remained. 

Erik pulled back then, only to lower himself; his mouth hot and needy against your throat, his hands trailing patterns against the skin of your stomach; becoming exposed as your shirt had rode upwards. His ministrations rendered you only able to lay there and pant; to bask in the feeling of being needed, wanted. Truly, ferociously. 

As he began to paint a trail of kisses down your stomach, something changed; something shifted in his demeanour. His hands, beginning to pull your thighs upward, were shaking and whilst his lips were forming kisses, they were forming words too. As you raised yourself to rest against your elbows, you finally heard the words forming within his mouth, “Please don’t go back to him.” He was whispering, pairing the almost unspoken words with a gentle kiss to the nearest area of skin; he was crying again, his eyes glistening with fresh, unshed tears as he burrowed his face into your skin. It seemed as if he was afraid to let you go, practically burrowing himself into your being, with the hopes that you would stay. 

“Erik, Erik wait-” You spoke urgently, lowering your hand to his chin before pushing him away; he stared up at you through his glassy eyes; his hair ruffled and cheeks rosy. Confusion graced his features at first, though he soon registered the concern in your eyes and realisation visibly dawned upon him. 

He removed himself from you then, moving to sit at the end of the bed; the duvet splayed around his waist as he sat with his legs crossed. He seemed to take a moment to compose himself, wiping at his mouth and running a finger over his teary eyes, “I’m sorry Y/N, I- it’s not my place to tell you what to do.” 

Instantly, you crawled towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and settling yourself into the space between his legs; you felt his cheeks crinkle as you pressed kiss after kiss to his face, but you could still sense his confusion, his doubt. “I knew I would be leaving him the moment Logan mentioned your name, whether you were coming with me or not.” You stroked his hair as you spoke, caressing your fingers through the thin tendrils of oaky brown hair that adorned your lover's head. Erik grinned then; his teeth shining as he practically mooned up at you, he kissed you again then; pulling you in and deeper into his lap. 

Before you could push him onto his back, before you could lower yourself upon him and mobilise the groans that would fall from his mouth; he abruptly straightened up, untwining his hand from beneath your shirt and raising it in the air- your wedding ring flew towards the two of you, hanging in the air before Erik made a flicking motion with his fingers; you could only gape as the ring flew through the open window and into the darkness of the night. 

“Erik!” You squealed, hitting at his chest as he laughed loudly, unabashedly. Despite being secretly pleased, you couldn’t allow him to know that. “That was expensive!” 

“I can find you better,” Erik grumbled against your chest, burrowing his head into your shirt and inhaling unashamedly, “That one wasn’t you anyway, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw that ghastly thing on your finger.” 

The only response you could have mustered in that moment was to shove him back against the bed; silencing him with the warmth of your own mouth.

[urdreamydoodles]

i would like to request Cuclops, Beast, Storm, professor X, Magneto, Gmabit with a child reader who was made from they’re dna with another person and they dound them in a lab and is now they’re child they have to look after

X-Men x Child!Reader

You are their DNA child

The X-Men each find a child created from their DNA in a lab, taking on the role of protective and nurturing mothers and fathers despite their own struggles. As they guide their children through mastering inherited powers and dealing with past trauma, they provide unconditional love and support, forming deep familial bonds.

Characters: Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, Ororo Munroe, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Remy LeBeau (+ my personal addition: Logan Howlett, Jean Grey, Kurt Wagner, Wanda Maximoff, Rogue & Laura Kinney)

I didn't think I'd enjoy writing about Child!Readers so much, so thank you for this prompt ♡ Hope you like it — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- It had been a routine mission, or at least that’s what Scott Summers thought. The X-Men had received a lead on a suspicious lab experimenting with mutant DNA, and Scott, as ever the disciplined leader, had led the charge. But nothing could have prepared him for what he found when they stormed the facility. Among the vials and tanks, amidst rows of sterile equipment, there was a child—you. Your wide eyes stared up at him through the glass container, fear and confusion swirling in them. It wasn’t until later, after the chaos settled, that Scott learned the horrifying truth: you were made from his DNA and that of another mutant. You were his daughter, created in some twisted experiment.

- Bringing you back to the mansion felt surreal. Scott, who had always struggled with family ties, now had a child to care for. He had never been one to show his emotions easily, but seeing you, so small and vulnerable, brought out something deep inside him. The first night you stayed in the mansion, you were scared, clinging to the unfamiliar surroundings. Scott sat beside your bed, his usually stoic face softened as he held your hand, unsure of what to say. “You’re safe now,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. “I promise.”

- The days that followed were full of awkward moments for Scott. He wasn’t used to being a father, let alone to a child created from his DNA in such a traumatic way. But as the weeks passed, he found himself growing more protective of you. He took it upon himself to teach you, both in combat and in life. Whether it was teaching you how to control your powers or helping you with homework, Scott was there, even if he fumbled through it. You were a reflection of him in so many ways—his discipline, his strength—but there was also a sweetness in you, a gentleness that Scott often struggled to express himself.

- One day, you were practicing with your optic blasts, and the frustration was clear on your face when you couldn’t get it quite right. “I’ll never be as good as you, Dad,” you said, your small fists clenched. Scott knelt down beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to be like me,” he said softly, “You just have to be you. And that’s more than enough.” His words carried a weight that neither of you fully understood at the time, but it was a turning point in your relationship. Scott wasn’t just your teacher—he was your father.

- Over time, Scott found that you brought out a side of him he hadn’t known existed. You gave him a reason to smile more, to laugh. It was in the small moments, like when you surprised him with a drawing of the two of you or when you’d curl up beside him on the couch after a long day. He wasn’t perfect, and there were moments when the weight of being a leader and a father seemed too much, but Scott never gave up on you. He had promised to keep you safe, and for Scott Summers, promises were everything.

Hank McCoy (Beast)

- Hank McCoy had always believed in science, in logic, and in facts. But nothing could have prepared him for the moment he found you in that cold, sterile lab. Among the syringes and data logs, there you were—a child created from his DNA and that of another person, a genetic experiment. At first, Hank didn’t believe it. He’d read about cloning and hybrid experiments, but seeing you, your little hands curled around a small teddy bear, he felt something crack in his usually logical mind. How could someone use his DNA for this? More importantly, how could he ever be a father?

- Bringing you home was no easy task. Hank’s lab, usually a place of quiet research and order, was suddenly filled with the chaos of a child. You asked endless questions, your curiosity insatiable, much like his own. “What does this machine do?” you’d ask, pointing at some complex piece of equipment, and Hank would patiently explain, even if your attention wandered halfway through. Despite the overwhelming change, Hank quickly realized how much you were like him—sharp, eager to learn, and always thinking two steps ahead. It wasn’t long before he found himself smiling every time you’d light up with excitement over a new discovery.

- But being a father didn’t come naturally to Hank. He was used to solving problems with science, but you were a whole different kind of puzzle. There were nights when you had nightmares, crying out for help, and Hank would rush to your side, his large, furry hands gently wiping away your tears. “I’m here,” he’d say, his deep voice soft and calming. He’d sit with you, reading one of your favorite science books until you fell asleep again, your tiny hand clutching his fur for comfort.

- One day, while you were sitting on the floor of his lab, drawing pictures of the two of you, you looked up at him with wide eyes. “Dad,” you said, hesitating for a moment. The word felt strange on your tongue, but when Hank smiled, it didn’t feel strange anymore. “Yes?” he replied, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Do you think I’ll ever be as smart as you?” Your question was so earnest, so full of hope. Hank knelt down beside you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re already brilliant,” he said, pride clear in his voice. “And you’ll only get smarter.”

- Hank’s life, once so full of equations and experiments, was now full of laughter, of you running through the mansion, leaving a trail of questions in your wake. You were a constant reminder that science wasn’t everything—that there were things like love and family that couldn’t be calculated or put under a microscope. And though Hank didn’t always have the answers when it came to being a father, he knew one thing for sure: you had changed his life for the better, and he wouldn’t trade that for all the knowledge in the world.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

- Ororo Munroe, known as Storm, had always been a force of nature—both literally and figuratively. She controlled the weather with ease, a goddess in her own right. But when she found you in that hidden lab, a child made from her DNA and another’s, it was as if the wind had been knocked out of her. You were so small, so fragile, lying in a stasis pod with machines hooked up to monitor your vitals. Ororo felt a deep rage for the people who had done this, but as soon as you opened your eyes and looked up at her, that rage melted into something else—something softer.

- Taking you back to the mansion was a whirlwind, not just for you, but for Ororo as well. She was used to guiding young mutants, but being a mother? That was a different kind of responsibility. You, however, adapted quickly, attaching yourself to her like a shadow. You loved when she’d create tiny storms for you to watch—little gusts of wind that made your hair fly around, or small rain showers that you’d dance under. And despite Ororo’s usual grace and poise, you quickly learned that she was a soft touch when it came to you.

- There were moments when Ororo was unsure of herself, wondering if she could live up to the role of being your mother. One night, as thunder rumbled outside, you crept into her room, scared of the storm. Ororo, who could control even the wildest weather, pulled you close, letting you snuggle under the blankets with her. “You’re not scared of storms, are you?” you whispered, your voice trembling. Ororo smiled gently, her fingers brushing through your hair. “No, little one. I’m not.” She paused, pulling you closer. “And you don’t have to be afraid either. I will always protect you.”

- As the days turned into weeks, you became her world. She taught you everything she knew about the balance of nature and how to respect the power you might one day hold. But there were also simpler moments—Ororo teaching you how to braid your hair, laughing with you as you tried to copy her intricate designs. The X-Men often commented on how much you resembled Ororo, not just in looks but in the calm, confident way you carried yourself, even as a child. You were her legacy, and Ororo couldn’t have been more proud.

- One afternoon, after a day of training, you sat beside her in the garden, watching the flowers sway gently in the breeze she’d conjured for you. “Mom,” you said quietly, the word feeling more natural every time you used it, “Do you think I’ll ever be able to do what you do? Control the weather?” Ororo looked down at you, her smile warm and full of love. “You already have a power all your own, my dear,” she said, placing a hand on your cheek. “And one day, you’ll learn to control it, just as I did.” You nodded, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. With Ororo by your side, you knew you could handle anything.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

- When Charles Xavier found you in that hidden lab, it felt as though time had stopped. He had read the reports of genetic experiments being conducted on mutants, but he had never expected to find you—a child made from his DNA and another’s. The scientists who had created you intended for you to be the perfect telepath, a child who could rival even Charles in mental power. As you stared up at him, your eyes wide with confusion, Charles couldn’t help but feel a deep connection to you. You were not just an experiment—you were his child. And though the circumstances were unnatural, he felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for you.

- Bringing you back to the mansion, Charles knew that your upbringing would be difficult. Not because of your powers, which were still developing, but because you had been created in a sterile, loveless environment. You had never known the warmth of a family. He could feel your fear and uncertainty through your young mind as you clung to him. “I know this is all new for you,” Charles said softly one evening, his voice calm and reassuring. “But you are safe here. You’ll never have to be alone again.” His words weren’t just for comfort—they were a promise.

- Your powers began manifesting early on, sometimes in ways that startled even Charles. One day, during a lesson, you accidentally tapped into his mind without meaning to, and for a moment, you saw the depth of his thoughts, his past, and his pain. Frightened by what you had seen, you pulled back and cried, “I didn’t mean to!” Charles knelt before you, his eyes gentle. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice soothing. “Your powers are a part of you, just as mine are a part of me. We’ll learn to control them together.” And that’s what he did—patiently guiding you, helping you understand the vast capabilities of your mind.

- Despite his often serious demeanor, Charles loved spending time with you. He took you on walks around the mansion grounds, explaining the history of the X-Men, the importance of protecting both mutants and humans. But it wasn’t all lectures. Sometimes, he’d create small mental games for the two of you, making puzzles that you could solve together with your telepathy. He found himself enjoying the simple joy of watching you grow, both as a mutant and as his child. You weren’t just a student to him—you were family.

- One night, after a particularly long day of training, you crawled into his lap as he sat in his wheelchair, your small arms wrapping around him. “Dad,” you said quietly, “Do you think I’ll be strong enough one day? Like you?” Charles smiled softly, placing a gentle hand on your back. “You’re already strong,” he whispered, “In ways you don’t even realize yet.” His words comforted you, and as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, Charles knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would never have to face them alone.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik Lehnsherr had seen many horrors in his life, but finding you in that lab—his child, created from his DNA and that of another—awakened a new kind of rage within him. The people who had done this saw you as nothing more than an experiment, a tool for control, and that disgusted him. When he found you, weak and scared in your containment cell, his heart broke in a way he hadn’t expected. You were small, innocent, and unaware of the forces that had brought you into the world. But as soon as he saw you, he knew one thing for certain: you were his, and he would protect you at all costs.

- Erik had never considered himself a nurturing figure, but the moment you reached for him, your tiny hand clutching the sleeve of his coat, something inside him softened. “You’re safe now,” he promised, his voice low but steady. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the fear of the unknown, but Erik was determined to make sure you never felt that way again. He took you back to his sanctuary, away from the prying eyes of the world, where he could keep you close, keep you safe.

- As the days turned into weeks, Erik began teaching you about your powers. Like him, you had control over magnetism, though your abilities were still weak and unfocused. He showed you how to manipulate small objects, how to feel the pull of metal in the air. You were eager to learn, your wide eyes always looking to him for approval. And though Erik was a strict teacher, there was a tenderness to the way he spoke to you, a gentleness that he reserved only for you. “You are strong,” he would tell you, his hands guiding yours as you lifted a metal ball with your mind. “Stronger than you know.”

- Erik wasn’t always the easiest man to be around—his anger often got the best of him, especially when it came to protecting you. He was fiercely protective, and the idea of anyone harming you sent him into a rage. But with you, he was different. You had a way of calming him, of bringing out a side of him that he had long buried. One night, after a particularly hard day of training, you climbed into his lap and rested your head on his chest. Erik froze for a moment, unaccustomed to such displays of affection, but then he relaxed, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “You’re my child,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “And I’ll always protect you.”

- The bond between you and Erik grew stronger every day. He wasn’t perfect—his anger and need for control sometimes made things difficult—but you never doubted his love for you. He taught you to be strong, to stand tall, and to never let anyone make you feel small. And though Erik was often seen as a villain by the world, to you, he was a father—a man who loved you fiercely and would do anything to keep you safe.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- When Remy LeBeau found you in that lab, it felt like a punch to the gut. You were a child—his child—created from his DNA and that of another person. Remy wasn’t the kind of man to be easily shaken, but the sight of you, so small and scared in that cold, sterile room, hit him harder than anything else ever had. You looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes, and in that moment, something inside him changed. He had never expected to be a father, especially not like this, but as he reached out to you, offering you his hand, he knew he couldn’t walk away.

- Remy brought you back to the mansion, unsure of how to be a father but determined to figure it out. From the moment you arrived, you clung to him, and despite his usual carefree attitude, Remy felt a deep sense of responsibility for you. He’d always been a bit of a rogue, someone who played by his own rules, but when it came to you, everything was different. He found himself caring in ways he never thought possible. You were his petite, and he would do anything to make sure you were happy and safe.

- Life with Remy was never boring. He taught you how to play cards, how to move silently through a room without being noticed, and even a few harmless tricks to keep life fun. But it wasn’t all fun and games—Remy also took his role as your father seriously, even if he didn’t always show it in the traditional way. He was patient with you, always ready with a smile or a joke when things got tough. “Don’t worry, mon chéri,” he’d say when you struggled with your powers. “We’ll figure it out together, eh? Jus’ gotta take it one step at a time.”

- One evening, after a long day of training with your powers, you sat beside him on the porch, watching the sun set. You had been quiet all day, and Remy could tell something was on your mind. “What’s on ya mind, petite?” he asked, his voice soft and full of concern. You looked up at him, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Do you think I’ll ever be as good as you, Dad?” Remy chuckled softly, ruffling your hair. “Cher, you already better than me,” he said with a grin. “You just don’t know it yet.”

- Remy wasn’t perfect—he made mistakes, and sometimes his past caught up with him—but when it came to you, he was always there. He taught you not just how to use your powers, but how to navigate life with a sense of humor and a light heart. You were his pride and joy, and though he didn’t always say it, you knew he loved you more than anything. Remy LeBeau, the infamous Gambit, was a man of many faces, but to you, he was just Dad—the man who made you laugh, who taught you to be strong, and who loved you more than anyone ever could.

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- When Logan first found you in that lab, he wasn’t sure what to think. You were a kid—his kid, created from his DNA and that of another person. Logan had been through more than his fair share of experiments, but this one felt personal in a way that cut deeper than any blade ever had. The moment he saw you, small and confused in the sterile environment of the lab, something inside him clicked. He was a lone wolf by nature, but now? Now, he wasn’t alone. He had you.

- Taking you out of that lab and bringing you back to the mansion was one of the hardest things Logan had ever done. Not because you were difficult, but because the situation felt so foreign to him. He didn’t know how to be a father, not after everything he’d been through. But when you grabbed onto his hand, refusing to let go, he realized that maybe, just maybe, this was something he needed—something you both needed. “You’ll be alright, kid,” he muttered, his voice gruff but comforting. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

- Life with Logan was rough around the edges, but there was a certain comfort in it. He was protective, always keeping an eye on you, making sure you were safe. Your powers, inherited from him, were slow to develop, but he was patient, teaching you the best way he knew how. When your claws first emerged, you were scared—terrified of what they meant, of what you might become. But Logan just knelt beside you, showing you his own claws. “Ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of,” he said quietly. “We got the same blood. We’ll figure it out together.”

- Despite his gruff demeanor, Logan had a soft spot for you. He wasn’t the type to show affection openly, but there were little moments that made you feel safe and loved. Sometimes, he’d ruffle your hair or take you on quiet walks in the woods surrounding the mansion, sharing stories from his long, complicated past. And though he didn’t say it often, you knew he cared. “You’re tougher than you think, kid,” he’d say after a particularly hard day of training. “Don’t let anyone tell ya different.”

- One night, after a long day of training and dealing with the chaos of the X-Men’s missions, you sat beside Logan on the porch, watching the stars. You leaned into him, and to your surprise, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he put a strong arm around you, his usual gruff expression softening for just a moment. “Ain’t easy, bein’ like us,” he said quietly. “But you’re doin’ good, kid. Real good.” His words, simple as they were, meant everything to you. Logan wasn’t just your protector—he was your father, the one who would always be there, no matter what.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- When Jean Grey found you in that lab, it felt as if her heart had stopped. You were small, frail, and afraid—her child, created from her DNA and someone else’s. Jean had always known the world could be cruel, but seeing you, a child born from her, used in an experiment, broke her heart in ways she hadn’t expected. As you looked up at her, your wide, uncertain eyes searching for answers, Jean knew she had to protect you, to show you that you were more than just a project—you were her daughter, and you would never have to face the world alone.

- Bringing you to the X-Mansion, Jean took it upon herself to make sure you felt safe and loved. She was nurturing by nature, but being a mother, especially under such strange circumstances, was new to her. You had been raised in a lab, never knowing the warmth of a family, and Jean could sense the confusion and fear in your mind. “It’s okay,” she would often tell you, her voice soft and full of love. “I’m here now. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

- Your powers began to manifest slowly, but Jean was there every step of the way. Like her, you had telepathic abilities, but they were unpredictable, sometimes overwhelming. Jean knew what it was like to be afraid of your own mind, so she guided you patiently, helping you control your powers in a way that didn’t scare you. “I know it’s hard,” she would say when you struggled, “but we’ll work through it together. You’re never alone in this.”

- Jean was the type of mother who balanced discipline with love. She taught you about responsibility, the importance of using your powers for good, but she also made sure you had a childhood filled with warmth and care. She loved reading with you, taking you out to the garden, and spending quiet moments with you when the mansion was still. “You’re going to do great things,” she would whisper to you before bed. “I can already feel it.” Her belief in you was unwavering, and that gave you the strength to keep going.

- One night, after a particularly overwhelming day with your powers, you burst into tears, afraid of the thoughts and emotions that were swirling in your head. Jean held you close, her arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said, her voice gentle and soothing. “You’re stronger than you know. And no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.” Her words calmed you, and as you drifted off to sleep in her arms, you knew that with Jean as your mother, you would always be loved and protected.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- Kurt Wagner’s heart broke the moment he found you in that cold, dark lab. You were a child—his child, created from his DNA and someone else’s. The scientists had clearly been experimenting on you, trying to replicate Kurt’s teleportation abilities, and the thought made him sick to his stomach. You were frightened, huddled in the corner of the cell, but when you looked up and saw Kurt, something changed. Despite your fear, you recognized him—your father—and in that moment, Kurt knew he had to get you out of there. He teleported into the cell and scooped you into his arms, holding you close as he whispered, “You’re safe now, mein kind. I’m going to take care of you.”

- Life with Kurt was full of warmth and love, despite the strangeness of your origins. He was a kind, gentle soul, and he made sure you always felt safe and loved in your new home at the mansion. You had been raised in a lab, and the world outside was new and overwhelming to you, but Kurt was always there to guide you through it. “The world can be a little scary sometimes,” he would say, his voice soft and full of love, “but you don’t have to face it alone. We’ll figure it out together, ja?”

- Your powers began to manifest early on, much like Kurt’s. You could teleport, though it was unpredictable, and it scared you at first. But Kurt was patient with you, teaching you how to control your abilities with care and precision. “It’s like a dance,” he would tell you with a smile. “You just have to find your rhythm.” He made it fun, turning your training sessions into games, and soon enough, you were teleporting with ease, your laughter filling the air as you disappeared and reappeared around the mansion.

- Kurt was the kind of father who filled your life with joy and laughter. He loved taking you on little adventures, teleporting you to different places around the mansion, or even to quiet spots in the nearby forest where the two of you could sit and talk. He would tell you stories of his own childhood, of his time with the X-Men, and you always felt a deep connection to him. “You’re a gift,” he would say to you often, his golden eyes full of warmth. “And I’m so proud to be your father.”

- One evening, after a particularly difficult day with your powers, you found yourself frustrated and on the verge of tears. Kurt noticed immediately and teleported to your side, wrapping you in a gentle embrace. “It’s okay, mein kind,” he said softly, his tail curling around you protectively. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you. And that’s more than enough.” His words were comforting, and as you leaned into his embrace, you realized that no matter what challenges you faced, you would always have Kurt by your side, loving and supporting you every step of the way.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- When Wanda found you in that lab, her heart ached in a way she hadn’t felt since losing her brother. There you were, small and fragile, created from her DNA and that of someone else’s, a product of twisted science. The fact that they had used her powers, her very essence, to bring you into existence shook her to the core. But as she reached out, sensing your fear and confusion, Wanda’s maternal instincts kicked in. She saw herself in you, vulnerable and lost. “You’re coming with me,” she whispered, her voice soft yet firm. And with a wave of her hand, she made sure the lab was nothing but a distant memory for the both of you.

- Adjusting to life outside of the lab wasn’t easy for you. Wanda knew that better than anyone—she had struggled with control over her powers too. But she was patient with you, teaching you how to harness your abilities in a way that didn’t overwhelm you. You inherited a portion of her reality-altering powers, though on a much smaller scale. Still, they frightened you at times, and Wanda was always there, offering a calm, understanding presence. “It’s okay to be scared,” she would say gently, holding your hand. “But you’re not alone. I’ll help you control it.”

- Wanda took a different approach to parenting than most, understanding that you had been through so much already. She was nurturing and protective, but she also gave you space to find yourself. Some days, the two of you would sit together in the living room, working on spells and abilities in a way that felt more like a bonding experience than training. “You’re stronger than you think,” she’d tell you, her eyes glowing softly with pride. “And I’ll always be here to guide you.”

- Despite the intensity of her own life, Wanda made sure you had moments of normalcy. She’d take you out for walks, playfully manipulate reality to make flowers bloom in winter, or make the stars shine brighter just for you. There were quiet evenings where the two of you would sit outside, watching the moon, and she’d tell you stories of her own childhood, of Sokovia, and of her brother Pietro. “Family is everything,” she’d say, a soft sadness in her voice. “And you, my dear, are my family.”

- One night, after a particularly hard day, you broke down in front of Wanda, frustrated with your powers and the fear of becoming something you didn’t understand. Wanda knelt down in front of you, wiping your tears away with a gentle touch. “You are not your powers,” she said softly, her voice steady but full of emotion. “You are so much more. And no matter what happens, I’ll always be by your side. You’re my child, and I love you.” The warmth in her words, the unconditional love, wrapped around you like a shield, and for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

Rogue (Anna-Marie)

- Rogue had been through enough in her life to know that no one asked for the cards they were dealt. But when she found you in that lab, hooked up to machines, created from her DNA and another’s, it shook her to the core. The guilt hit her hard—someone had taken her powers, her life force, and used them to create you. As she gently pulled you out of that cold, sterile environment, she looked down at your young face, full of fear and uncertainty, and felt a fierce protective instinct rise within her. “C’mon, sugar,” she said softly, brushing your hair out of your face. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt ya now.”

- Rogue wasn’t sure how to be a mother, especially considering her powers, but she was determined to make it work. She had never been able to touch people without fear, but with you, it was different. The scientists had altered something in your genetic makeup, allowing you to be immune to her powers, meaning she could hold you, comfort you, without the fear of harming you. And for the first time in a long time, Rogue felt like she could give someone the care and affection she’d always longed to give. “Ain’t that somethin’,” she’d say with a smile as she hugged you, grateful for the chance to finally feel human connection.

- You had inherited a version of Rogue’s powers, but they were different, more unstable. You couldn’t quite control when or how you absorbed someone’s abilities, and that scared you. But Rogue was patient, guiding you through your struggles with a warmth and understanding that only she could provide. “It’s okay, baby,” she’d say whenever you felt like you were losing control. “We’ll figure it out together. I know what it’s like to feel scared of your own skin, but I promise, you’re gonna be just fine.”

- Rogue was fiercely protective of you, always making sure you felt safe and loved. She’d take you out on long rides on her motorcycle, teaching you the thrill of the open road while also making sure you knew that no matter what, you had someone in your corner. She shared stories of her own life, her struggles with her powers, and how she found a family in the X-Men. “We’re family now,” she’d say, her Southern drawl comforting and familiar. “And family sticks together, no matter what.”

- One day, after a particularly rough incident where you accidentally absorbed another mutant’s abilities, you were left feeling scared and ashamed. Rogue found you curled up in your room, and she sat down beside you, pulling you into her arms. “Listen here, sugar,” she said softly, her voice full of warmth. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. We all got our struggles, but you’re strong. Stronger than you know. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you. Always.” Her words, her unwavering support, made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

Laura Kinney (X-23/Wolverine)

- Laura wasn’t one for showing emotion, but when she found you in that lab, something shifted inside her. You were a product of the same twisted science that had created her, only this time, they had used her DNA along with someone else’s to make you. Seeing you, so small and fragile, hooked up to those machines, brought back memories she had tried to bury. But you were different—you were hers. Without a second thought, she destroyed the lab and took you into her arms, her voice soft but firm as she whispered, “You’re coming with me.”

- Life with Laura wasn’t easy, but she was determined to be the mother you deserved. She wasn’t used to caring for someone else, especially not a child, but she knew what it was like to grow up alone, to feel abandoned, and she refused to let that happen to you. She didn’t talk much, but her actions spoke louder than words. She made sure you were safe, protected, and had everything you needed. And when you were scared, she’d sit with you in silence, her presence alone enough to make you feel secure. “I’m here,” she’d say quietly, her hand resting on your shoulder. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

- Like Laura, you had inherited claws, but yours were different—more unpredictable. Sometimes they would come out when you didn’t want them to, and other times you struggled to control your healing factor. Laura knew what that was like, and she was patient, teaching you how to manage your powers with a quiet strength that you came to rely on. “It’s not about control,” she’d say as she watched you practice. “It’s about understanding who you are. You’re not a weapon. You’re my child.”

- Despite her stoic nature, Laura was protective in a way that only a mother could be. She’d watch over you constantly, making sure you were never in danger. She didn’t express her love through words, but through actions—taking you hunting in the woods, teaching you survival skills, and making sure you knew how to defend yourself. “I’m not always going to be here,” she’d say, her voice low and serious. “But you’re strong. You can handle anything.”

- One night, after a particularly hard day of training, you broke down, frustrated with your abilities and feeling like you were more of a burden than anything else. Laura sat down beside you, silent at first, before she spoke quietly, her voice filled with an emotion she rarely showed. “You’re not a burden,” she said, her eyes fixed on the horizon. “You’re my child. And I’m proud of you. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.” Her words, though simple, carried a weight that made you feel loved and understood in a way you hadn’t before. With Laura as your mother, you knew you were never truly alone.

[unluckiestmember]

Hey so I LOVED your X-Men x sweetheart reader and I was wondering if you could do a similar head cannon of X-Men x kind reader but their reaction to you being good with kids. I just feel like they would have various opinions or feeling if they saw you interacting with a child.

Coming right up!

X-Men '97 X Compassionate! Reader

Characters: Nathan Summers/Cable, Scott Summers/Cyclops, Jean Gray, Remy LeBeau/Gambit, Rogue, Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler, Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto, Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch, Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver, Morph, Logan/Wolverine and Jubilee.

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: So how did you guys feel about Deadpool and Wolverine?

Cable

“Well would you look at that! Seems someone knows how to get along with the kiddies… Oh don’t mind me, keep playing.”

Cable isn’t used to hanging out with children or being around them due to his workload, but he does enjoy the presence of kids that look up to him. He hasn’t really thought about wanting kids because of his fear that the disaster of a future he’s from would be too harsh for a child to be raised, let alone he is scared that something will happen to them.

However, when he sees you being so compassionate with children, it makes him reconsider a little bit! The sight of you and the kids at the local shelter on his base laughing and playing together makes his heart sour. Whenever he finds himself down in the dumps and needs a good boost or reminder of what he’s fighting for, he will just watch you and the children happily running around and realize why he’s the famous freedom fighter the young ones and yourself admire.

Cyclops

“Huh, you’re a natural at this! Makes me wonder how things would be when you become a parent of your own kid.”

When he sees you taking care of children on and off missions, Scott can’t help but stand and watch you with the biggest smile tugged on his lips. The sight of you all happily living your lives without a care in the world makes him remember the civilians he is fighting for. And more importantly, it makes him think of giving the family thing another shot!

Can you blame him? The way you are with children makes him daydream a perfect life away from the mansion raising a family together and properly being there for your child. Though there is hesitance to it all due to the result of Nathan and his last relationship, if you assure him, then he will definitely try to be a father again. Because with you by his side, can he really fail again?

Jean Gray

“Aww! Are you playing nice? Mind if I join in? I’m sure they would love to see my powers in action.”

Jean has thought of having a family with you when everything is settled down. So before she can have this ideal world of raising a kid with the love of her life, she can get a peek into a potential future in the brief moments of you caring for children, mutant or human. Whenever she sees you taking care of a child, usually during a mission, she will assist you in any way and naturally take up a mother role she’s used to having around the mansion.

The team can always find you two trying to make sad or distraught children on missions turn their frowns upside down with some powers or just speaking to them and making sure they are heard. You and Jean are definitely the go to for young ones, and if you both around children confirms anything, it’s that you two would be great parents someday.

Gambit

“Look at you all go! Mind if Gambit takes a stab at this, mon amour? I’m sure I can win their hearts. I won yours, didn’t I?”

Gambit is used to dealing with the younger folk of the world because of his time around them back home. So when he’s around children, he can easily adapt to them by playing some mindlessly fun games, pulling off tricks with his cards or telling some jokes. That’s not surprising though. What’s really surprising is him finding out you’re a pro when it comes to little kiddies!

When he found out you were a natural, he was beyond impressed by you and even let his mind wonder on a more intimate possible future down the line for the both of you. Around children, he’ll have you both as a package deal with you as the caring caretaker and him as the funny guy who will not hesitate to flirt and send signals your way in front of the kids. With how much he’s flirted with you, the kids always mistake you two for a married couple! A married couple… That doesn’t sound half bad.

Rogue

“You got these kids all excited, running and screaming like a bunch of baby banshees! You’re a natural, babe!”

Rogue wasn’t a big kid person on missions. She simply gets the job done and if there are children that need assistance she leaves it to someone who can be more intimate without fearing they’ll hurt them. She stayed this way until you showed off innocently how well you were with younger civilians.

At first when the mission called for dealing with kids, Rogue watched you from the sideline in silent awe of your tender love and care for children that were distraught or needed a distraction. Yet with time, simply watching you gave her the courage to join in and actually help out by giving out free rides on her back or showing off her immense strength. Together you two are a happy fun couple kids love to be around as much as Rogue just loves being around you. Now whenever there’s a mission with the young ones, she’s more than excited to tag along with you and live in the moment.

Nightcrawler

“May I cut in? I can play a mean game of tag!… Really?! Then round up the kiddies because I’m it!”

Because of Genosha, Nightcralwer is just as good with children as you are! He enjoys his time with the little ones around town or during stakeouts because of how accepting they are of him and how much their laughter fills his heart with joy. Now mix your own laughter in because of your handling with them and the blue devil was sure he was getting a slice of heaven.

The both of you are so well together and with others that the team delegates you both to taking care of the children on missions and making sure they’re okay. Around you both, the kids can expect a bunch of games to be played and a lot of memories to be made. Whenever a mission calls for babysitting, Nightcrawler knows exactly who to call on to assist him in having a little bit of fun on the job!

Magneto

“The future of mutants is bright if you’re around to bring such laughter and happiness.”

Though Erik has children of his own, he’s pretty subpar for a caretaker let alone a babysitter of mutant children. He tries his best of course, but the lack of fatherhood he was allowed made him a bit rough around the edges. Luckily he can depend on you to pick up where he lacks and he thanks you deeply for that.

Everytime he takes a moment to look at you with kids just minding your own business and being giddy without a care in the world, it makes him wonder if he’d be open to trying to raise a family once again. He knows with age and with the weight on his shoulders, it may be harder for him. But if you’re by his side, he wouldn’t mind giving it another try and stepping up to the plate to be a better father than he ever was for Wanda and Pietro.

Morph

“Hey, if the kids want to see a few tricks, send them my way, alright? I can throw them for a loop and think there’s two yous running around!”

Morph is decent with children, but they mainly leave that kind of work to you. When it comes to the more emotional attachment, they need a bit of work on that, but if you’re talking tricks and jokes? Then they are the right person to work with on missions dealing with kids!

They use your connection with children to playfully throw you for a loop by shapeshifting into someone and tricking you a lot just to get some laughter in the air. Most of the time he succeeds but there have been a few times where both of you just team up in some funny interactions that are bound to leave the children happy in your presence. Honestly, Morph wouldn’t care so much, but since you’re around? They don’t know- You just bring out that side of them! And they kind of love it!

Wolverine

“Of course you’d be good with the children, what did I expect?… Don’t mind me, I’m just keeping watch. Have fun.”

Children and Logan don’t mix that well. He just finds it annoying to babysit when he already does that with the teenagers at the mansion. Add that with some crying, whining and begging and he becomes pretty livid. Which is why he doesn’t like missions that deal with kids. That is, unless you’re there to help him out.

He finds your handling of children to not only be a big help for him but also a nice change of pace. It’s adorable seeing how kids easily gravitate towards you and how you let them do whatever they want. Whenever they have you pinned down in a game or surrounded, Logan can’t help but laugh at the cute little ambush before he breaks everything up. He doesn’t like kids and he still can’t stand them. But you make them more bearable, so there’s always that!

Jubilee

“Hey, babe! Send the kids over here- I’m gonna do a mad fireworks show for them!”

Jubilee is, surprisingly enough, really good with kids! She’s a lot like a cool aunt to your nurturing parent bit! She thinks it’s cute that you’re good with children and even compliments you around them when she’s not busy with other kids on a mission. The firecracker can rely on you to assist her or even stop her from making whacky moves that could get some children hurt out of pure excitement.

It’s not hard for everyone to know you two are a couple because of how much she calls you by pet names or makes fireworks that send signals to you if not make some look like you. It’s awfully sweet of her and it makes you comment that not only is she a great girlfriend, but she’d also make a great mom. Though, it’s highly recommended to hold that because if Jubilee hears you speak of motherhood, she’ll cringe at the thought. She likes kids, don’t get her wrong! But she could never be a mom!

If you got any requests for X-Men '97 or Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[lokidjarin-7567]

TTPD Contents

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

Erik Lehnsherr x Reader x Charles Xavier After joining the First Class of Professor X’s school with your brother Hank, you realised you have a connection with two of the mutants there, and that they might also have a connection to each other… fem!reader, M/F/M, 18+ MDNI 6,258 words EDIT: I'm super proud of this one, maybe my favourite thing I've written! Thanks for all the love on it so far <3

“It’s not going to happen, Charles.” You muttered, frustrated, putting all of your energy into stopping him from walking towards you, but only managing to stop his hand.

“You need to go to that place between…” He started to explain.

“Anger and serenity, I know, I know. I’m not Erik, its not working.” He sighed, moving his hand to his forehead.

“May I?”

“Sure, go ahead.” There was nothing he would see in there that he hadn’t before.

You realised early in your friendship that there wasn’t a lot of point hiding anything from him. You were never sure when he was reading your thoughts, only when he spoke to you without moving his lips, or when he would find a memory like he was doing now. You saw a few flash through your mind, recent ones. The relief when Hank had told you that there were others like you and him. The anger when Shaw had killed Darwin in front of your eyes just a few days ago. The moment your mother found out there was something different about Hank, and kicked him out, so you followed him. Your brother’s mutation was significantly more obvious than your’s, but you left with him regardless. He had always been more than family; he was your best friend, your true and sole confidant, your lifeline. Following your train of thought, Charles managed to find a memory synonymous to that - the day you found out about his mutation. The way he cried and broke down, explained the science to you to try and ensure you understood it, but you didn’t need him to. You whispered his name softly, and told him to wave at you. The perplexed look on his face, but you insisted so he did. Then you stopped his hand dead in its tracks. The shock and relief on his face, the hug you shared, the tears you both shed. It was a joyous memory, peaceful.

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye and Charles did the same, releasing you from the memory and now you were back in the bunker underneath his family’s house, watching as he nodded to you.

“Now try again.” He moved to the other side of the bunker again, and you concentrated hard, reaching your hand out towards him and trying to stop his slow walk towards you. You were technically telekinetic, but only when the other object was moving. The lighter the object, and the faster it was moving, the easier it was to control. And generally, you would just been able to stop it. You knew that you could move things as well once you had control over them - you had done it once, the day you had gotten your powers, but never since. And if it took that level of trauma to do it again, you hoped you never would.

“You’re moving too slowly!” You exclaimed, huffing in frustration.

“Ok, ok fine. Maybe we need to stop thinking of your powers as telekinesis.” You frowned, confused. Controlling objects was telekinesis. “Just trust me here for a moment…” Of course I trust you, you saved my life and continue to daily. “Close your eyes.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes tightly. His voice appeared in your head, a soft whisper that immediately put you at ease.

Telekinesis is about creating movement, but you can manipulate movement. And do that, you need to be able to sense the movement around you. I can’t manipulate or read someones mind without being able to sense it, even if I can see the person. It might be the same with you. I’m standing still but I’m going to move soon - keep your eyes closed and see if you can sense me.

You focussed, reaching out into the black space and it took a few seconds, but you could feel him moving. Slowly, his image formed in your mind. You could see the way he was moving: the large, over dramatic steps he was taking, the emphatic hand wave, and you smiled. You reached out to him with even more concentration, but you surprised yourself with how easy it was to stop him in his tracks, cementing his feet to the floor so he almost fell over.

“Holy shit, Charles, you’re a genius.” You opened your eyes, releasing him and seeing the grin that had spread across his face. It was contagious, your own smile growing.

“I know I know, but we’re not done yet, you have a lot more in you…” He was pacing, thinking, and high on the adrenaline, you reached out to stop him, to play with your powers, only to find… you couldn’t. You couldn’t sense his movement. You could see him, but there was nothing else.

“I can’t…” you muttered, continuing to try as hard as you could, but nothing. He frowned, and you heard his voice softly inside your head.

Close your eyes again.

You did, and sure enough, there he was, his movement growing clearer in your mind by the second. You opened your eyes, and it was gone, the tangibility somehow lost when you could actually see him.

“Ok, ok, let’s try this…” He looked around for something, then settled his tie, pulling it from his collar in a swift motion and striding over to you, making you blush. “Can you use this as a blindfold?” He asked, and you nodded, allowing him to press the soft fabric across your closed eyes, the world going black as he tied it in a gentle knot. The difference was instant. It was as though you could physically see him still, a soft, golden glow outlining his body and his movements. Every single detail was highlighted to you.

“Try standing still?” He did, stopping dead in his tracks, but you could still see him - every miniscule shiver across his skin, the rising and falling of his chest with his breaths, the slight tremble in his fingers. “Charles…” you muttered, “I can see everything.”

“What do you mean everything?”

“Look for yourself.” You watched as he raised his hand to his temple, and you saw the subtle changes in his face as it shifted from confused to shocked, a grin spreading.

“That’s incredible. Is it easier to stop movement now as well?” You smiled, instantly halting his arm in the air as he tried to return it to his side. He laughed aloud. “You’re amazing.”

“I know.” You shrugged, letting him go, hands reaching up to remove your makeshift blindfold when you felt something move across the room. Without thinking, you reached back towards it, spinning around just in time to see the door you just felt opening slam shut.

“What the fuck?” You heard an annoyed voice from the other side of the closed door, and you laughed in disbelief. You’d done it.

“Oh my God, did you see that?” You span back to Charles, smiling uncontrollably.

“Yes I did, my dear. Yes I did.” You squealed with joy, running over to give him a hug, which he readily returned. You still had your blindfold on, and you could feel his heart beating when you were this close, even the blood rushing through his veins.

“Thank you.” You whispered in his ear, and he moved back, holding your head in his hands.

“This was all you.” The moment was broken, though, by the door opening again, although slightly cautiously this time. It was Erik - you could see it was him by his movements, and the shape of his body.

“Did you just close the door on me? And why are you blindfolded?” He paused, confusion etched across his face, followed by an almost knowing smirk. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Jesus, no…” Charles piped up quickly, heart rate skyrocketing as he moved across the room to Erik, putting distance between you and him. “We’ve found a way to…”

“I closed the door with my power!” You interrupted, excited, but he did not have the same reaction as Charles did. He actually had no reaction at all.

“So… you can, what, control your power better when you’re blindfolded?” You nodded.

He cocked his head, then he stretched out his arm, and you presumed it was to see if you were telling the truth, but before you could open your mouth to tell him he’d moved, you felt something moving quickly towards you. It was your keys, and you stopped them in midday, before pulling them safely into your hand.

“Hey, that could’ve taken my eye out!” He just laughed.

“There’s a lot more where that came from.”

You often wondered about how your life would have turned out without this place. You hadn’t exactly been here long, but it had already transformed you into someone better, more powerful, more in control. You spent the day with Charles and Erik, getting to grips with your newfound power, figuring out how to use it fully, and that you should keep things on you that you could throw and move to your advantage in the field like Erik did. You felt like you could actually be helpful to them now. And only just in time. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

You finally got back to your room, laying down almost straight away, your feet aching from the long day. It was a beautiful house, and you would always be grateful to Charles for allowing you to stay, even if it only ended up being for a short while. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, after all.

You closed your eyes, grabbing the small, metal orbs Erik had given you from your pocket, and throwing them in the air, grabbing them with your power as they visualised. You smiled, remembering just a few hours ago when he gave them to you. The way your hands had grazed, his gaze as intense as it always was. The way he had encouraged you as you practiced, and been harsh when you made a mistake.

You had to be careful with your thoughts when you were around Charles. Guarded. There were a lot of things you thought about that you never wanted him to know.

He was one of those things. Erik was the other.

You couldn’t help it; they were both so attractive in different ways. Charles was soft and kind, a smile that could warm you from the inside out and a charm that could make you do anything he asked, no mutation needed. Erik was the opposite, harsh and damaged, cold in his mannerisms, but there was a concern to him that he tried to hide. He always failed, doing everything and more to protect the mutants around him. To fight for them. And to make sure you fought for them too.

“That wasn’t good enough.” You remember a moment from your day when he nearly shouted, frustrated that you had only stopped a flying chunk of metal he had flung at you rather than moving it as well.

“I’m not used to this, Erik.”

“So? We all had to learn to control our powers quick, you aren’t special.” You huffed, clenching your fists as Charles let out a soft, warning whisper of his name, but he carried on. “You can do more than that. I don’t care when or how you got your powers, but even if you got them yesterday, you would be doing a hell of a lot better than you are right now.” While he was talking, you were steadily getting angrier, and halfway through a sentence you noticed a new piece of metal hurtling towards you. You flicked it away without any effort, hearing it smash against the wall and falling to the ground, noticing that the white hot rage had sharpened your vision. He continued to throw more and more object at you, and you continued to retaliate, not realising you were moving towards him until he started to move backwards. He reached the wall, and threw a knife in a last ditch effort. Charles cried out in warning, but you didn’t need it, pulling the knife straight into your hand and holding it to Erik’s neck.

“You have no fucking clue what I’ve gone through to get this power.” You were close enough to feel the shuddering breath he let out, and you could see the way he clenched his jaw, his eyes scanning your face meticulously, as though you couldn’t see every minuscule movement he made through your blindfold.

“I know it was bad enough that you didn’t want to use your gifts for a long time.” You felt as though the wind had been knocked from your lungs, and you stepped back, dropping the knife to the floor with a clatter, making your way back across the room.

“Again.”

How you got your powers was a memory even Charles hadn’t seen. You had never let him. Some subconscious part of you protected it viciously; the first time he had even tried, your mutation had taken over, gripping the only thing you could sense moving and stopping it. That thing just so happened to be his heart.

He hadn’t gone near that memory since.

And neither had you.

You should be trying to get some rest. You had a big day tomorrow. You were going after Shaw. Saving the world. Letting Erik get his revenge on that bastard. It was going to be difficult. You just hoped you could be helpful in spite of everything.

It was no use though. You were unable to think about anything else, so you got up and ventured out to find Hank. You just wanted to check if he'd incorporated the blindfold into your suit, and maybe to get some reassurance from your big brother, but as you wandered through the expansive house, you noticed an unusual quietness. Glancing at a clock, you realised it was later than you'd thought—you should definitely be resting too. But as you were passing the main study, you heard voices and paused, listening for Hank.

Hank isn’t here, but you can come in.

Your heart lurched, although you couldn’t tell if it was from surprise, or an involuntary reaction to his smooth voice. Concentrate, you scolded yourself, opening the door. Both Charles and Erik were sitting in the study in big, leather arm chairs, chess board in front of them and glasses of whiskey nestled in their hands. God, you needed one right now.

“Help yourself.” He said aloud, and you laughed to yourself quietly.

“It still takes me by surprise when you do that.” You moved over to the cabinet, pouring yourself a generous amount, before turning around to see another chair being moved to where they were sitting, Erik’s hand outstretched towards its metal feet. He set it down opposite their’s, and you sat gratefully, tucking your legs up and taking a sip.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Charles asked, his voice strong and earnest. You frowned.

“Why do you ever ask questions when you could just see it?”

Would you really rather I was in here all the time?

“No of course not.” He already was. You took another sip. “And I’m terrified.”

“You don’t have to come, you know.” It was Erik this time. He spoke quietly, eyes never leaving the chess board.

“I want to.” You said it with finality, hoping to convey a confidence you certainly didn’t feel, but they both seemed to accept it.

“Your progress has been incredible today; you’re going to be a big help out there.” You smiled at the words but still not fully believing them, having another drink and averting your eyes to the chessboard.

“Do you want to play?” Erik asked, and you shook your head.

“No, thank you, I think I’ll watch if that’s ok.” Maybe they didn’t want you here. “Unless that would be crashing your evening, I don’t want to be a nuisance…”

“Never.” He muttered, moving one of his pawns. You smiled, settling further into the chair.

It was at times like this that you wished you had Charles’ power. They had been playing for a while now, and you wanted to know what they were thinking, their plans for the game. You tried to guess, but your chess knowledge was rusty at best, and you kept getting distracted. You hadn’t moved in the last 30 minutes - only once before that to get another drink - and they didn’t speak much when they played, so your mind wandered. Naturally. And it didn’t help that the thing your mind had been wandering to this past week was sat in front of you.

You watched as Erik’s hand gracefully moved a piece across the board from afar, the steel-tipped bishop gliding with ease, then returning to his thigh. His legs were spread slightly, hand resting on each while he continued to look at the board, shuffling slightly in his seat, his hips moving up and forwards and hands sliding further down them and you couldn’t help but think about…

Charles said your name, and you cleared your throat.

“Hmm?” You really hoped he hadn’t been in your head then.

“Weren’t you looking for Hank earlier?”

“Oh… yes I was but it can wait until tomorrow, it wasn’t important.” He’s telling you to leave. “Unless you wanted some space, sorry I totally crashed your night…”

“I promise you aren’t, darling, I just wanted to check you hadn’t forgotten something important.” Darling. He used nicknames a lot, maybe it was a British thing, but it still made your heart flutter every time.

“Thank you.” You smiled quietly as Erik stood up, offering another drink. You accepted, his hand grazing yours as he took the glass from it, fireworks dancing across your skin.

What should I do next?

His voice called out in your head, and you smiled lightly, knowing he didn’t need your help but wanting to include you nonetheless, probably after hearing you mind racing with thoughts of being an annoyance.

Bishop to F6.

I was thinking the same thing.

Erik returned, almost making you jump as the glass was placed back in your hand. Charles moved exactly as you had said as soon as Erik had sat down, and he paused, looking at the board intently, fingers running around the rim of his glass. Jesus, was he doing this on purpose? You twisted in your chair under the guise of getting comfortable to face towards Charles, but he was no better. He was stretched out, his legs wide, hand resting on his chin, shirt sleeves pushed up to the elbows. Fucking hell. It was barely anything, they were literally just sitting down, concentrating on their game, relaxing before what was bound to be a difficult day, but your mind couldn’t stop running away with itself. And to be fair to you, you were tipsy, stressed, and currently sitting in a room with two men who you happened to find insanely attractive. Of course you were going to have some thoughts. You couldn’t help it. About what they might be like. You figure Erik would be a little rougher, domineering, but Charles would talk to you, praise you. Use his powers to know exactly what you needed, to make you feel good…

His power.

Fuck.

You needed to get out of here before you just about died of embarrassment, and you could feel yourself blushing even though he showed no sign of knowing. If there was even a chance he knew, you needed to run, to leave, to literally never show your face here again. You downed your drink, a slight sting settling in the back of your throat.

“I should probably get going,” you croaked, barely managing to talk through sheer shame, “try and get some sleep before tomorrow. Thank you for the drink.” You had moved to stand, feet hitting the floor, but Charles held out a hand to you in a gesture to stop.

“Just one second…” He muttered, looking at Erik intensely. He wasn’t saying anything, but they held eye contact and you realised that he must be talking to him. Oh dear God. There was no expression on either of their faces, so unreadable it made you feel slightly insane. Oh God he saw it. What would he even think of you? Then, without warning, Charles stood up. You thought he might be going to get a drink, but he stopped behind you, and after an excruciating moment, his hands fell to your shoulders. You sighed and fell into them as he started to squeeze lightly, working the muscles that were there in a way that felt so good it was hard not to moan, so you hummed in contentment instead.

“I know it’s been a long day… maybe we can help you relax a little.” We? At that point, Erik stood up, expression still completely unreadable, and placed his fingers gently under your chin, lifting it to meet his eyes. His beautiful fucking eyes.

“Does that sound ok?” He whispered, and you practically melted.

"Yes, God, yes," you breathed. Erik closed the gap before you could finish, his lips capturing yours hungrily as his hand found your thigh. He pulled away, leaving you breathless, but before you could recover, he tilted your head back with a gentle grip on your chin. Charles' lips met yours, tender and exploratory. As he kissed you, his fingers traced soft circles on your collarbone. You sensed Erik's intense gaze, then felt his lips brush your neck—a fleeting touch, gentle yet promising more. You gasped into Charles' mouth, overwhelmed by their dual attention.

“My room’s closest.”

You made it there without bumping into anyone, a true blessing considering your hand in Charles’ and the strong grip Erik had on your hips the whole way. You had barely closed the door before he was on you again, lips on your neck and shoulder, hips grinding up against your ass, and something else too. You noticed Charles was standing just away from the two of you, watching intently with an expression close to disbelief. You smiled at him warmly, pulling him closer just as Erik lightly nipped your shoulder in a way that made you whimper. You reached back, running your nails in his hair, before pulling him towards Charles. They both smiled softly, lips meeting as you stayed in between them, both of their bodies pressed up against you. You took the opportunity to undo a few of Charles’ shirt buttons, and planting a couple of delicate kisses to the top of his chest. You felt giddy with arousal, mind completely taken away from the stress of the whatever was to come the following day, hands taking their time to explore his chest and further down as you continued to undo his buttons, his shirt falling open as you pulled him closer still, pressing his skin to yours.

Let me know if you want us to stop. There is no pressure here, sweetheart, just whatever you want.

You nodded, watching as Charles pulled back from Erik. His eyes scanned your face for any sign of discomfort, though he could surely sense the pleasure coursing through your mind — and they'd barely touched you yet. You hummed contentedly as Erik's hands found the hem of your tank top, pulling it off while Charles' fingers trailed down your arms, grasping your hands and guiding you towards the bed. Shimmying out of your sweatpants, you sat down and kicked them off, then shuffled further up the bed. You leaned back on your elbows, hoping to entice them to join you, but they remained standing, their eyes raking over every inch of you. Suddenly self-conscious, you realised that, apart from Charles' open shirt, they were both still fully clothed, while you lay before them in just your underwear. You would have to change that..

You closed your eyes tight, focusing on them. Charles must’ve heard your thoughts, and he was removing his shirt now, moving to his belt, but Erik just stood, watching you both. He looked so calm, but you could see his rapid, heaving breaths, and the desperation that was growing in his trousers. His breathing was just enough movement for you to latch on to, reaching out and starting to pull up the hem of his top, and he smirked, a grin spreading as he lifted his arms to help you, and you discarded the black material across the room. You blinked your eyes open slowly, and after a small pause where Charles glanced at him, presumably communicating where they were going to be, and finally got a good look at him before he knelt down before the bed, grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him, making you squeal.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, planting kisses up your thighs as his fingertips hooked under your pants, pulling them off. You sat up slightly as Charles moved behind you, resting your back against his chest. He grasped your jaw, turning your head to kiss him. "And this is quite a view…" You blushed, giggling, as Erik settled between your legs, his hands gripping your ass and angling you for access.

"So is this," Charles whispered, his hands finding your bra clasp as Erik's kisses inched closer to your aching core.

"Fuck, Erik…" you whimpered, your hand darting to his hair as his tongue delved into your folds, his hot mouth enveloping you with a groan. Your bra discarded, hands immediately cupped and kneaded your chest, making your head roll back, eyes fluttering closed with sheer bliss. Charles's lips found your neck, nipping the sensitive skin behind your ear and eliciting a soft moan.

"He thinks you taste divine, darling," Charles whispered, and you smiled, already panting as the pressure in your core built. "He does think you could be a little louder, though…" As if on cue, Erik's hands left your ass—one arm pinning you to the bed by your hips, the other at your entrance. Before you knew it, he was pushing two fingers inside you. You groaned, still holding back slightly, acutely aware of the house full of people.

Don’t be shy, I can make sure no one can hear you.

As his voice echoed in your mind, Erik's fingers inside you curled upward, hitting that sweet spot that made you melt. Simultaneously, Charles' fingers found your nipples, pinching and rolling them in a deliciously painful way that drew a guttural noise from your throat. The sound was loud and raw, tearing through your body just like the building pleasure was. Erik's tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit, never pausing. You writhed on the bed, so close to the edge it almost hurt, your moans and whines filling the room.

“Oh God… fuck I think I’m going to…” You felt Erik groan against you, and you looked down at him, seeing him peering up at you through half lidded eyes, lust on his face evident and a realisation hit you then. One of the most powerful men in the world was on his knees in front of you, and behind you was the other, lips planted on your neck, their sole purpose being to give you pleasure. It was enough to send you over the edge.

Your back arched, pressing further into Charles as a low, reverberating groan was pulled from your throat, riding out the waves with his mouth still between your thighs, and you couldn’t stop your hips from grinding into him. He finally realised you when you were done, shaking and quivering on the bed, slowly removing his fingers from you.

“You should really have a taste, Charles.” He muttered, moving up onto the bed and crawling over you to reach him, presenting his fingers to his mouth. You watch in awe as Charles took them into his mouth gratefully, sucking them clean as Erik watched, a dark look entering his eyes.

“You were right…” he muttered, hands moving to your hair and pushing it from your face as he kissed you gently. “Divine.” You hummed into his mouth and kissed him harder, tasting yourself on his tongue, which made that all too familiar ache build up in your core once again.

“Look at that…” you heard Erik start talking, alongside the sound of his belt buckle undoing, “she’s needy already.” You released Charles lips, sitting up slightly to grab a hold of Erik’s waistband, undoing the button and fly quickly and frantically, revealing the huge tent in his boxers.

“Looks like I’m not the only one…” you whispered, moving into a seated position on your knees as your hands ran gently across his bulge, seeing his hips move towards you instinctively, begging for more even though the rest of his body language said otherwise. “I can help with that.” His eyes darkened, and you wondered where he would want to be, but Charles was one step ahead of you.

He wants your mouth, darling. You smiled, guiding him back to the headboard with a gentle push on his chest, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles before letting him get comfortable. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to Charles, putting on a show as you kissed him again, but deeper this time, your tongue taking its time to explore his mouth. Your hands deftly worked at his trousers while his roamed the lower half of your body, all eager grasps and breathless pants against your lips. You loved seeing him come undone beneath your touch, his raw desire palpable, and yours was evident by the slick forming between your thighs.

"Turn around for me, sweetheart." Erik's gruff voice rang out behind you. You obliged, settling on your knees to see a beautiful sight. He had finally taken off his trousers and boxers, and you paused to drink him in. Relaxed against the headboard, legs spread wide, his posture screamed dominance, accentuated by the small smirk playing on his lips as he watched you. Your gaze wandered down, taking in his toned body, strong arms, and down to the happy trail leading to the thing you wanted most. He was hard—painfully so, it seemed—and he stroked himself languidly while waiting for you. And he was big, bigger than you expected, and you swallowed hard at the thought of him, of how he would feel….

Charles had also stripped down completely, and he moved right behind you on the bed, hips pressed to your ass, and his erection pressed against your back.

“Come here…” Erik said, leaning forward and pulling you close by the back of your neck and smashing his lips into yours. You could feel Charles behind you, pulling your hips back and setting you up for him, his hands kneading your ass in a way that made you moan into Erik’s mouth.

Are you safe?

On the pill, I’m all yours. Erik released you from his lips and sat back, giving Charles a small nod and using the hand on your neck to keep your head up and facing him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl.” You nodded, eyes widening and a moan escaping your lips as you felt Charles press up against your entrance, fully sheathing himself in one swift motion.

“Fuck, darling, you feel so good.” He groaned, breathing ragged.

"God, so do you," you whispered, breathless as you adjusted to his size. Your eyes remained locked on Erik's, whose expression darkened as he stroked himself faster. Charles pulled out slowly, taking his time, before thrusting back into you forcefully, his hips colliding with yours. You moaned and whimpered as he set a rhythm, his hands roaming through your hair and up and down your back, murmuring praises and curses. You had finally caught your breath, and you knew it was time someone else got a little attention, so you lowered your head. Your tongue swirled around Erik's cock as his hand gripped your hair tightly. You took him into your mouth, managing just over half before pulling back, one hand moving to his base, the other steadying you on the bed. Matching Charles' pace, you bobbed up and down, drawing a growl of satisfaction from Erik that made your cunt clench, eliciting similar sounds from the man behind you. He pulled you into him by your hips, each thrust pure bliss, and you knew another climax was imminent if he just...

The telepath clearly sensed your thoughts, his hand reaching around to find your clit with precision. He rubbed tight circles in perfect rhythm, building the pressure once more. You could only moan weakly around the cock deep in your throat.

"She's close, Erik. I want to hear her," Charles said breathlessly. You could tell he was nearing his peak too as Erik lifted you off him by your hair, gripping tightly.

"Are you going to come for him, sweetheart?" Erik asked, his low tone making you whimper.

"Fuck... so close... I—" Your words dissolved into a moan as your orgasm overwhelmed you. Your eyes fluttered closed, and your head rolled into Erik's hands. Your body melted into blissful jelly, your core pulsing around Charles, and he followed shortly after, his hips faltering as he pressed deep into you. With a groan in your ear, he filled you, then bit your shoulder as you both rode out the waves of pleasure together.

You were a shuddering mess by the time he was done, barely holding yourself up as he pulled out of you with a deep sigh. He pressed soft kisses down your spine as Erik lifted your head up, lust etched on his face.

“You still up for me, sweetheart?” His fingers ran across your lips and cheek, and you nodded, still breathless.

I’m going to clean up, can I leave you two to it?You heard Charles in your head, and you sent over a yes, turning your head to kiss him goodbye.

“Shall I clean you up before I go, darling?” He asked, clearly having asked Erik the same thing, before standing and moving over to him, kissing him deeply.

“I think we’ll be ok.” Erik muttered, a mischievous look on his face. You smiled, forcing your weary legs to move towards him. He held you up by your hips as you heard the bathroom door close, a quick have fun thrown into your head. You kissed him softly, tenderly as you sank onto him, a sweet, low growl filling your mouth as your hips met his—a surprisingly easy feat despite his size thanks to what had been left behind by Charles. Your legs trembled, worn out, but you pressed your body close to Erik's, draping your head over his shoulder as he guided your movements with his hands. It was intimate - hands tangled in hair, soft, short breaths mingling with deep, grinding strokes that quickly brought you to the edge yet again. Panting and whining in his ear, you tried to tell him how close you were, but the sensation overtook you before you could form the words. Your nails dug into his back as pleasure washed over you. He whispered your name in a dark, husky tone, and then he was coming too, deep inside you. Somehow, he ground even deeper as you managed to lift your head just enough to kiss him.

You both stayed like that for a moment, catching your breath, bodies intertwined. Erik's hands traced lazy patterns on your back, sending shivers down your spine. As your heartbeat slowly returned to normal, you lifted your head to meet his gaze, finding a mix of satisfaction and tenderness in his eyes. With a soft smile, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering on your cheek. You wanted to stay like this forever, feeling his heartbeat against your chest, but the moment was broken by the shower turning off. You blushed, climbing off him slowly, slumping next to him on the bed, feeling empty without him inside of you. You knew you would have to go and clean up soon, but you felt so comfortable with his arm draped around you, you didn’t want to move. He pulled the blanket from the bottom of the bed up, draping it over you as you waited for Charles, your eyes fluttering closed peacefully.

“Well, this is nice sight.” You smiled, opening your eyes to see him in the doorway to the bathroom, wet hair hanging over his face and towel wrapped around his waist.

“This is a pretty nice view from here too.” You replied. “Can I…?”

“Go ahead.” Erik muttered, planting one last kiss on your lips as you headed to the bathroom. You had just closed the door when you heard the bed creak, and they started talking.

“We got lucky with her, didn’t we?” Charles muttered, and you heard Erik sigh.

“Yes, I think we did.”

[panbotter]

Hey so in reference to my previous ask, can you do one were the reader is having trouble controlling their powers (you can decide those) and either Kurt or Erik comfort them after a bad day and end up confessing to the reader. You can ad smut if you want but if not that's totally fine too☺️.

Your Existence is Grand

Erik Lehnsherr x gn!reader

Erik notices you having a rough day with your powers and decides to shower you with praise.

(This is my first fanfic literally ever so feedback appreciated, but also... Sorry for any mistakes!!!!)

Trigger warnings: cursing, suggestive themes (I don't know what else to write here, pls let me know if there's anything else I should add!)

The air around me begins buzzing and crackling, becoming charged with electricity and I sigh, deeply frustrated before I reach for the metal doorknob in front of me and receive a shock so strong that all the muscles in my arm cramp up painfully. I curse under my breath, forcing my arm to bend and stretch the tense muscles as I walk into the lounge, getting a glimpse of the others outside. Some might say I’d been gifted with a particularly powerful mutation, that it made me strong and intimidating. That I am admired for it, as if it’s a blessing to be grateful for.

But in this god-forsaken world, all I could see was a curse that plagued my body. I never bothered to understand the science behind it, as much as others might have tried to explain it to me. Something about the electricity in my body behaving abnormally, affecting the air around me and in turn, other electronics or conductors of electricity, turning me into a walking hazard around power lines, or thunderstorms. Let's not even mention the sheer amount of electrical fires I’ve caused. Sure, it sounds cool. But the reality is basically hell.

One of the ‘best’ parts about my mutation is that it is terribly unstable, especially when you’re constantly surrounded by electricity no matter where you go. Everyone else who charges up some static then touches a piece of metal receives a little sting from a silly little shock. It might be a little funny or perhaps surprising! Maybe it happens when you touch fingers with someone else and you shock each other, what a cute moment!

Try getting fucking electrocuted every single time.

Nowhere near as cute, nor as fun.

Some days are worse than others and the more restless I become, the worse it is for me in the end. But unfortunately, I can’t lay in bed immobile for an entire day to lower the voltage my body is producing, resulting in my current conundrum. Avoiding the rest of the X-Men in order to avoid any potential accidents, especially with Jubilee. Fireworks and a highly-charged mutant body surrounded by a bunch of high-tech only spells out bad news. Luckily, it seems like most of them were outside on the basketball court. That’s what I thought, at least.

“I take it you’re having a bad voltage day?” the voice of none other than Magneto startles me out of my thinking. It’s been more than a few months of him living here with us, but his presence is still unexpected. I had a hard time training the knee-jerk defensive reaction out of my body for the first few days, my body becoming charged up so quickly that I wouldn’t even have the chance to blink before I shot a bolt of electricity at him.

He was quick to show that a little spark didn’t do much to him, given that he was essentially a walking magnetic field.

I turn to him, his large form standing at the entrance to the lounge, “What makes you say that?” I turn back to watch as Scott and Logan start another argument, their voices muffled by the glass.

“The air keeps crackling and I have a hard time believing there’s a storm inside the building” he approaches until he pauses at my side. I chuckle a little, giving a wince once I feel my sore muscles constrict. He turns to watch me.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe Storm has had enough of those two at each other’s throats” I try to joke but my voice falters, as my heart begins to race again and the sound of the air buzzing around me becomes overwhelming. Tremors begin rippling across my muscles, a mixture of them cramping and relaxing too fast for me to keep up with. Losing the strength in my legs, I stretch a hand out toward the glass in front of me to hold myself up but I miss the glass by a couple inches. Erik’s hands are quick to grab onto my arms before pulling me into his chest, supporting my weight as the crackling noise fills my ears and I let out a pained shout. My body releases a strong burst of electricity, most of it absorbed by Erik’s magnetic field, whilst the rest causes the power in the building to go out. I pant loudly, trying to catch my breath, feeling like my heart might’ve stopped in the middle of that.

The lights flicker around us before the power in the school hums back to life. Erik’s hands are still around me, I realize before beginning to step away, but his hold on me tightens. He pulls me back against his chest and I try to fight back the heat that’s slowly creeping up to my face. This is a bit embarrassing. I’ll admit it, I had grown to like Erik in the time he’d been with us, not to mention I had quite a few run-ins with him before I ever joined the X-Men. He always seemed so… Powerful, he always felt safe to be around. As radical as the Professor may claim he is, he always seemed… Right. You could hear the passion in his voice when he spoke of mutantkind and it made you want to side with him, to be loyal and to follow him to the ends of the Earth.

He had a powerful presence, and as I am now discovering, a powerful touch. One of the very few people who could come near me without fear of being electrocuted. My muscles had begun to twitch in the aftermath of the shock. These are the unfortunate moments where I wish I could be rid of my mutation. I could barely hold myself up and here I was in Erik’s arms.

“You should be resting” his voice was stern, but there was a hint of concern in there. I raise my gaze to meet his, feeling a bit of shame.

“I can’t just lay in bed all day, the world is still turning, there’s things to do…” I muttered.

“Precisely, the world is still turning and it will still continue to turn if you are at rest. You, on the other hand, are not a planet and you need to care for yourself”

I stare into his eyes, feeling them pierce through my soul. He always seemed to be right about everything… I chuckle under my breath as I regain some strength in my legs, straightening back up.

“I’m sure you must be tired of having to run after all of us like a babysitter” I joke as his arms come to rest on my shoulders once I’m stable on my feet.

A glint crosses his eyes, “I do wonder how Charles managed, and then I remember he’s a telepath, so it must’ve been quite easy for him” he replies with a smirk gracing his face that makes me laugh a little.

“He still struggled, you shouldn’t compare yourself to the Professor”

He begins to lead me toward the couch behind us, helping me take a seat before joining me. I still feel a hot streak of shame across my stomach, having him help me. Burdening him.

“Sorry, by the way… You’re right, I should be a little more considerate of others” I mutter.

Erik turns to look at me as I avoid making eye contact, “I don’t believe those were my words…” his hand reaches out toward my chin, gently turning my head to face him, “I only ask of you to rest and care for yourself, forget what the others may think”

I blinked up at him, “The Professor always wanted me to push past my limits, so that I can perhaps get stronger… Control my powers better”

“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have to restrict your abilities, you could rule this planet with a wave of your hand, what you have is something to be proud of, not ashamed” he places his hand against my cheek and I find myself leaning against his warm touch, “Your mutation is a blessing, not a curse”

I scoff, “Sure doesn’t feel that way, I can’t even live among humans without shutting down an entire city’s power”

“Your powers shouldn’t be hidden, controlled, or restricted for the sake of humanity” he says the word with disdain, “but those are my beliefs, your existence is grand mein liebling”

My heart thumps against my chest loudly at his words. It feels… Intimate. How could he speak such high praise toward me?

“I see you hurt and I watch as you restrain yourself around others, as your mutation basically eats your body alive and it pains me…” his eyes gaze across my face, pausing at my lips before trailing back up to my eyes, “It pains me that you live in a world where you feel you cannot rest, where you feel you must hide the power within you”

“Erik…” I whisper, almost afraid to shatter the moment between us, “What are you… What are you saying…?” I peer into his eyes, seeing something brewing behind his gaze. Could it be possible that he’s… No, there’s no way.

“What do you believe I’m saying?” he whispers softly, leaning in toward me. I jump as a few sparks fly out from where he has his hand on my cheek. I can’t help my eyes dropping to his lips before rising back up to his eyes.

I feel the tension rise and in a desperate attempt to avoid it, I joke, “If I was delusional, I might think you’re trying to confess to me right now” I laugh a little to dispel the tension. His gaze was still just as intense so I failed, but I tried my best.

A smile graced his features, “Yes… Perhaps if you were delusional, you might see that I am actually confessing my feelings for you right now” he says it so casually I almost think he’s playing along with my joke, but as my eyes widen, so does his smile.

“Are you…?” my voice wavers a little. I feel my heart drop, realizing he’s probably joking with me. I turn away from his hand, lightly pushing his chest to put distance between us.

“Is this some sort of joke? Come on, Erik… You know that’s… It’s unrealistic” I mutter, a man like him would never love someone like me, that’s not how it works… Maybe in the movies, or in a fairytale perhaps.

“Mein liebling, perhaps I haven’t been clear enough with you” he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in close, closer than before, “do you prefer a visual demonstration instead? I can give you that, you only need to ask” he smiles before slowly leaning in, giving me enough time to back out if I wished, but I find myself leaning in, eager to feel his lips against mine.

As soon as our lips locked together, sealed at last, a burst of electric sparks flew out from our lips and I giggled into the kiss. I mean, how ironic is that? I felt real, literal sparks and fireworks from the kiss and it made my lips tingly. Erik smiles into the kiss before deepening it, his hand rising up toward my hair while the other trailed down my back and I found myself desperate to be closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, clumsily climbing over to sit on his lap. We part right as I begin losing my breath and he trails a burning, tingly trail of kisses down my jaw before he stops by my ear.

With a whisper that blew across the nape of my neck, “I see more than just greatness in you, so much more…” The words are charged with intention, passion, and sincerity. I shudder as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I bite back a moan as he continues kissing down my neck. I take a sharp breath in as he begins sucking on a tender spot before I suddenly realize what we’re doing…

Where we’re doing it.

I turn slightly to peek at the windows, making sure the others are still thoroughly distracted with playing before I feel Erik bite my skin and a moan breaks out, “Wait! Erik… We’re… In the lounge…”

He lifts his head, and the dark look in his blue eyes makes me clench my legs in anticipation, “We’ll just have to be fast… And quiet… Can you do that?” He taunts me with a question I don’t even get the chance to answer before he lays me down on the couch, climbing over me, “I’m just helping you relax, that’s not a sin, is it?” He looks down at me with a hungry gaze and I feel my cheeks burn.

“I guess not”

“Show me what else you can do with these sparks of yours”

[pinksfloydss]

i like the way you kiss me 

Pairings: erik lehnsherr x afab reader (she/her pronoun use)

Warnings: smut, 18+. praise kink, mirror kink, insecurity, toxic (?) relationship. fwb of sorts. takes place after Days of Future Past. first time writing smut so be nice!

She knew her position in all of this, and she didn’t dare step over the boundaries. She knew Erik was not interested in a relationship, that he was looking for a warm body to press up against on the cold nights. At first she didn’t mind it. Just like him, she wanted a distraction from all of this tragedy and ostracisation in her life. Being a Mutant on the run from law enforcements was not an easy task, especially when nearly every Government agency was after Erik, and her by association. There was that understanding between them. An understanding that they were in this together. But not together, together.

She stood in the motel’s bathroom, a thin door separating her from Erik who was sitting on the bed. Sighing deeply, she tossed the empty box of hair dye in the trash can along with a pair of stained gloves. Sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, she glanced down at her gold watch, taking note of the time. After 45 minutes, she stripped out of her clothing and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water rush down her body. She used the shampoo and conditioner set she purchased alongside the hair dye. Erik argued that it was nonsensical, since the motel would have complimentary shampoo and conditioner for them to use. She fought back with the fact she was already changing the color of her hair, she wasn’t going to damage it anymore with cheap motel products. 

After drying off her body with the rough towel and blow drying her hair with the motel-given dryer that made the lights flicker when she turned it on, she slipped into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top. There was a knock on the bathroom door. 

“One second,” she replied, raising her voice only slightly. 

“Come on, you’ve been in there forever,” Erik retorted through the door. “The suspense is killing me.”

She rolled her eyes and unlocked the door, allowing him to turn the knob and step in. She wasn’t ready to look at him directly yet, so she continued to nit-pick her appearance in the mirror. Erik came up behind her, gazing at her in the mirror as well. He gathered her waist length hair into his hands, holding it up like a ponytail. 

“I think it suits you,” he murmured. “It's a shame there wasn’t any extra to share.”

She smiled at him in the reflection. “I can go back to the store tomorrow.”

“I’ll pass.”

Erik pressed himself against the back of her, dropping her hair down over one shoulder as he leaned in. He pressed soft kisses into the kiss of her neck, his scruff scratching her soft skin. 

“Erik,” she muttered. “I just got out of the shower.”

“You can take another one.”

He grasped her jaw, turning her head so that they could kiss. It was soft, almost convincing. He kept her body pointed at the mirror. Sighing softly, he pulled himself away from her, looking down at her with dark eyes. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” he whispered. 

Her breath shook as she exhaled. She grabbed his hands that were planted at hips and started tugging on them. Placing one of his hands on her chest, she pulled the second one further down. He cupped her through her pajama shorts. 

“Eager, are we?” he teased. 

“Don’t make me beg,” she pleaded. “It’s embarrassing.”

He smiled against her neck. “You sound so beautiful when you beg.”

She closed her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t be able to look at herself in the reflection. “Erik,” she whispered. “I need you. Please.”

Erik removed his hands from her body and grabbed the hem of her tank top, guiding her through it and off her body. Next, he moved to her shorts, pushing them off her hips and down the legs. She supported herself up by placing her palms on the sink counter. Her legs were weak, pliable. She kept her eyes closed. 

She always considered herself to be a modern-woman, not in the need of a man to help her with anything. But at this moment, she needed Erik’s help. He was the only one who could make her feel better. The feeling of embarrassment with desperation kept her eyes sealed shut.

Erik pulled her back up against him, and she could feel the fact he just removed his own clothes. He groaned when she shifted weight, her soft skin rubbing against his growing hardness. One of his hands reached around her to her chest, rubbing his thumb across her hard nipple. His lips found the spot right under her ear, kissing it softly. Next, his other hand ran over her stomach and down between her thighs. His two innermost fingers slid between her folds, slipping inside her.

A gasp left her lips as he worked at her. The heel of his palm rubbed at her clit, making her tighten around his fingers even more. 

“Erik,” she sighed. 

“Say it,” he groaned. 

“Please,” she choked out. “I want you. I – fuck – please, Erik.”

Erik complied to her pleads. He removed his hand from her and shuffled behind her, finding the right spot to stand. Finding it, he lined himself up with her and slowly slid in, giving her time to adjust. Perhaps the lewdest sound she has ever made came out of her. Perhaps the people in the neighboring rooms could hear her. Perhaps she was feeding into his ego. Any of it, she did not care. All she cared about was the way he was making her feel in this moment. 

Erik grabbed both of her wrist, holding them behind her at the small of her back with one hand. The other grasped the base of the back of her neck, pushing the upper part of her body flat against the sink counter. She turned her head to the side, one cheek flushed against the cool counter. Erik made sure to collect all of her hair away from that side of her face, even placing it so it was off the back of her neck. His thrusts started out slow, patient with her body. But they soon picked up speed. With every moan she let out, he felt more of a responsibility to make the next one better. 

“Is this what you’re too embarrassed to say you like?” he murmured, his one hand still gripping both of her wrists while the other braces himself on the back of her shoulder. “Do you like giving yourself completely over to me? Do you like the way I make you feel?”

She choked out a cry. She was never going to admit it out loud, she couldn’t. But the way his words – the truth she was afraid to confess – made her feel, sent shock waves through her body. He grabbed a fistful of hair with his hand, pulling her face up high enough to be seen in the mirror. 

“Open your eyes, sweet girl,” he groaned. “Look at yourself.”

At first, she shook her head, but then he tightened her grip on her hair. Not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to send a message. Her eyes fluttered open, and she finally saw what she was so worried about seeing. Her face was flushed, her eyes hazed over, her lips slightly bruised from where she was biting down on and didn’t even realize it.

“I wish you could see all that I could see,” Erik groaned. “So beautiful, taking me so well.”

She unknowingly backed her hips up at him mid-thrust, electing a soft chuckle from him. Her eyes left her own reflection and stared at his, seeing the way he gazed down at her. She didn’t want to convince herself of anything. Not now, not here. 

He let go of her wrist and her hair, pulling her body back up to be flushed up against his chest. She turned her head so she could actually look at him and not his reflection. His hand cupped her breast as he continued to move inside her.

“Tell..” she stopped herself. 

He stopped moving. “Tell what?” he asked. 

She shook her head, rocking herself back and front and trying the mimic the way it felt only a few seconds ago. “Ignore me,” she replied.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, sweet girl,” he said softly. “Say it.”

She closed her eyes again, turning her face away from him. “Erik, not now.”

He pulled out of her entirely, whirling her around to face him. “I can’t enjoy this if I think you’re not.”

She grabbed his face with both of her hands. “I am enjoying this,” she said, pulling his face down to kiss him. He kissed her back, hesitantly. Slowly, she started shuffling her way out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. One bed. It was the only vacant room in the motel. 

She crawled onto the bed, stopping when her face met the soft pillow. She was on her knees, her back arched, showing herself to him. This could be her most vulnerable, but when she felt Erik move into bed behind her, grab her hips, and flip her onto her back, she felt more exposed than ever before.

“I want to see you,” he explained. “I want you to tell me what you want.”

She pulled him down so that he was hovering on top of her, forearms boxing in her head. Her hand pulled him down to kiss her while the other hand grabbed him and lined himself back up with her. He sank in completely, and she moaned into his mouth. 

“Please tell me, my girl,” he whispered, pulling away from the kiss. 

She tucked her head into the crook of his neck. “Tell me you like me, Erik. Tell me how good…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence before his hips snapped against hers. He grabbed a spare pillow and shoved it under her hips, creating a different angle that she could feel. 

“You’re squeezing me just right,” he groaned. “So perfect. You’re taking me so well, sweet girl.”

Her back arched involuntarily, her chest meeting his with ragged breaths. She wanted more, and he could tell.

“You want to make me proud, don't you?” he teased. “I can see it in everything you do. Look at what I’m seeing.”

He brought her gaze to between their bodies, where he was hovering enough over her that they could watch him disappear into her with every thrust. 

“You don’t know how perfect you feel,” he groaned. “Wrapped around me like you were made for me. Only for me. Your mine.”

She cried out, digging her fingernails into the skin of his shoulders. Erik dipped down to kiss her, helping her through her orgasm. With the way she was tightening around him, he didn’t last that much longer. Groaning, he quickly pulled himself out of her, letting himself finish on her stomach. She was panting, her thighs that were tight against his hips were shaking. After a moment to catch their breaths, he dropped himself onto the bed next to her. He took one look at her stomach and got out of bed, walking to the bathroom. He grabbed her clothes and a wash cloth he ran under warm water. Before walking back out, he quickly pulled on his boxers. 

When he came back into the bedroom, she had pulled at the sheets enough to cover her breasts and thighs. Erik chuckled softly, making a teasing remark on her modesty at this point. He wiped her stomach clean and helped her back into her clothes. She sighed at the feeling of his rough hands against her skin. 

He climbed back into bed beside her, pulling the blankets up over both of them. He noticed her hesitancy and how frozen she seemed under the blankets, so he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled him against him.

“I may not be telepathic, but I can see when you’re thinking,” he commented. “What is it?”

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his expressions. “I know what we are, Erik. But sometimes it still stings.”

“And what do you think we are?” he asked, his eyes burning into her. 

“It’s just sex between us,” she replied, taking a deep breath. “I know that.”

He signed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Quietly, he said her name, and then repeated it so that she would look at him for once. “It’s not just sex, sweet girl. I could spend every waking moment with you, not even touching, and that would be enough to keep me content. I just happen to like the way you kiss me.”

Her eyes were almost sad. “Erik,” she whispered. “If I didn’t side with you, and we weren’t on the run..”

“I would risk arrest if that meant catching a sight of you.”

She chuckled softly, closing her eyes as she felt his nose brush against her cheek. “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that ‘cause you were just inside me 5 minutes ago.”

Erik pressed a kiss against her lips. “No, I’m saying that because I mean it.”

[tteotlma]

Whiskey and Wishful Thinking

-- unrequited love and misplaced desires

Logan/Wolverine x Reader 6.2kw(😵‍💫)

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now and i didn’t really edit —

TW: 18+ MDNI AFAB!Reader, alcohol abuse/intoxication, sexual content (explicit), Emotional manipulation, unrequited love, mild violence (Logan crashing into things), infidelity (emotional), sexual encounter under the influence, emotional distress/angst, mild language, p in v

—

The quiet whirring of the air conditioner filled the cavernous space of the library, its cool breeze a stark contrast to the sweltering August heat outside. You circled the poster board laid out on the worn wooden table in front of you, your fingertips ghosting over the glossy photos and carefully cut-out newspaper clippings. Your chin rested on your hand as you examined the display closely, brow furrowed in concentration.

The new semester at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was starting in a week, and you were determined to be prepared. This wasn't just about having a visually engaging classroom; it was about proving yourself. Your second year as a teacher here was right around the corner, and you still had people to impress—or maybe overshadow. The pressure to live up to the legacy of the school's illustrious faculty weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You were in the middle of rearranging a faded photo of Richard Nixon next to a more vibrant one of Mystique—a stark visual representation of the complex history you were trying to convey—when something caught your eye. A small tear in the corner of the Mystique photo made you frown. It was barely noticeable, but you knew it was there. Much like the small imperfections in your own mutation that you tried so hard to hide.

As you reached for the tape to add more photos, a thunderous crash erupted from the direction of the front door, reverberating off the mahogany bookshelves and causing the chandeliers to tinkle ominously. You startled, your elbow catching the edge of the poster board and sending a cascade of photos fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

"Dammit," you muttered under your breath, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered images. Each one represented hours of research and careful curation. There was Erik Lehnsherr in his prime, Charles Xavier before the wheelchair, headlines about the Mutant Registration Act—pieces of a puzzle you were trying to fit together for your students.

As you collected the last of the photos, another crash followed, accompanied by a string of muffled colorful curses that could only belong to one person: Logan.

You rose to your feet, brushing dust from your knees and straightening your top. A part of you wanted to ignore the disturbance and return to your work. After all, you weren't one of the X-Men, just a history teacher trying to make a difference in your own small way. But another part, the part that had brought you to this school in the first place, urged you to investigate.

With a last, longing look at your unfinished project, you began to walk down the corridor, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The warm wood paneling and lush carpets couldn't quite muffle Logan's gruff voice, slurred and aggravated.

"Who the hell locked the damn door?" he growled loud enough to be heard through the mahogany, followed by another thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting solid wood.

You rounded the corner just in time to hear Logan slam against the door again. Sighing, you approached, your hand hovering over the ornate brass doorknob.

"Logan?" you called out, trying to keep your voice steady. "The door's always locked after midnight. You know that."

There was a moment of silence, then a muffled grunt. "Oh. Right." You heard him fumbling on the other side, likely searching for keys he didn't have. "Must've... must've forgot."

You leaned closer to the door, lowering your voice. "Did you lose your keys again?"

"Didn't lose 'em," Logan grumbled, his words slurring together. "Just... misplaced 'em. Temporarily."

Rolling your eyes, you turned the lock. "I'm letting you in. But please, try to keep it down. Some of us are trying to work."

As you swung the heavy door open, the full impact of Logan's state hit you like a wave. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, more disheveled than you'd ever seen him.

His usually wild hair was a mess, matted in places as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His leather jacket was askew, one sleeve pushed up to the elbow while the other hung loosely at his wrist. The strong scent of whiskey wafted from him, mixed with something earthier – had he been in the woods?

His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were unfocused as they landed on you. For a moment, they seemed to look through you rather than at you.

"Work?" he scoffed, stumbling slightly as he entered. "It's summer, kid. Live a little."

The irony of his statement, given his current condition, wasn't lost on you. But as he brushed past, the scent of alcohol growing stronger, you couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to drink so heavily tonight. Logan had his demons, sure, but this seemed excessive even for him.

"Logan," you said softly, reaching out to steady him as he swayed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He paused, turning to look at you. For a brief moment, his tough exterior seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of raw pain underneath. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I'm fine," Logan grunted, his voice rough as gravel. He shrugged off your hand with a forceful jerk that nearly threw him off balance. "Just need to sleep it off."

As he stumbled towards the stairs, you stood frozen in the foyer, a war of emotions raging within you. Frustration at the interruption of your work battled with genuine concern for your colleague. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, each thud against the hardwood punctuated by a slight scuff - clear signs of his unsteady gait.

BAM

The sound reverberated through your chest, jolting you into action. "Oh my- Logan!" The twisting knot in your stomach unraveled, replaced by a surge of adrenaline as you found yourself on your knees beside the fallen giant. The polished wood floor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Logan's body.

"Are you okay?!" Your voice came out higher than intended, tinged with worry. You gently turned his body, your hands careful but insistent. Logan's face came into view, his rugged features slack, eyes roving aimlessly. They passed over your face without a flicker of recognition, unfocused and glassy.

"Clearly not," you muttered, answering your own question. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, worry and frustration mingling in equal measure. You patted his stubbled cheek, the coarse hair rough against your fingers. The familiar texture grounded you, a tactile reminder of the man beneath this drunken exterior.

"Come on, you big lug." Your fingers curled around his jacket collar, the worn leather an old friend under your grip. You could smell the years of use on it – a mixture of tobacco, whiskey, and that indescribable scent that was purely Logan. You tugged, your muscles straining against his dead weight. It was like trying to move a mountain, and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your back with the effort. "I can't get you up those stairs, but we can try to find something else."

Logan stirred under your hands, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest. You could feel the vibration of it through your palms, like the purr of some great, dangerous cat. Keeping a steadying hand on his arm, you helped as he struggled to his feet. His muscles were taut under your touch, coiled with a strength that, even in his inebriated state, was intimidating.

The scent of whiskey hung heavy in the air around you both, an almost visible miasma. It mingled with the earthy smell of his leather jacket and something so distinctly Logan – a heady mix of cigar smoke and pine that usually brought a sense of comfort and safety. Now, it just emphasized the bitter truth that in trying to distance himself from his pain, Logan had simultaneously distanced himself from the man you once knew.

He was mumbling, disconnected words tumbling from his lips like scattered puzzle pieces. You caught fragments – "Jean" and "Summers" among them – each name landing like a small stone in the pit of your stomach. But you weren't really trying to piece it together, not now. Your mind was already racing ahead, calculating the logistics of moving him, wondering if you could manage to get him to the nearby study with its comfortable couch. And, if you were being honest with yourself, a small part of you was wondering how soon you could get him out of your sight and return to the normalcy of your work.

You watched, as if in slow motion, as Logan threw a heavy arm around you. The sudden shift in weight knocked you off balance, causing your body to shove even closer to Logan's as you struggled to support his swaying form.

You closed your eyes, trying to distract itself with thoughts of your discarded project in the library. You tried to reimagine your pre-arranged photos and timelines, hearing them calling to you like a siren song of productivity and purpose. But it was hard to focus on that, not with the heat radiating off of Logan's body making your skin feel like it was sizzling, every point of contact between you a livewire of sensation.

You could feel every hard plane of his body pressed against you, the heat of him searing through your clothes. The closeness was both thrilling and terrifying, and you quickly shook your head, pushing the confusing thoughts away. Right now, Logan needed a friend, whether he (or you) realized it or not.

"Alright, big guy," you said, your voice sounding strained even to your own ears as you adjusted your grip on his arm. Your fingers dug into the solid muscle there, seeking purchase. "Let's get you somewhere you can lay down before you fall again and cause some damage." You began to guide him, every step a careful negotiation between his unsteady feet and your determined support. It was like trying to direct a landslide – Logan's bulk and uncoordinated movements making each step a precarious balancing act.

"I-I'm fine," he slurred, his words thick and syrupy. His head bobbed with each trudging step, reminding you of those drinking bird toys. "Jus' needed a break." The words were punctuated by a hiccup that shook his whole frame, and by extension, yours.

"A break from what?" You grunted, the words coming out breathless as you strained to keep him walking in something resembling a straight line. The carpet runner in the hallway bunched under your feet with each step, creating small obstacles you had to navigate around. "It's the last week of summer."

The reminder seemed to hit Logan like a physical blow. He let out a loud groan, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. Suddenly, his body went limp, all semblance of cooperation vanishing in an instant. He stumbled again, but this time, anchored to you as he was, he dragged you with him.

"No, no Logan," you gasped, your muscles screaming as you struggled to keep both of you upright. Your feet scrambled for purchase on the polished wood floor, sliding dangerously. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought you were both going down, but somehow – through sheer determination or dumb luck – you managed to keep moving.

With a final, herculean effort, you maneuvered Logan's bulk towards the library. The giant sofa loomed before you like an oasis in a desert, promising relief from your burden. And of course, because the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor tonight, it was right next to your craft table. The carefully arranged materials – your planned escape from this chaos – now stood as silent witnesses to your struggle.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the leather creaking under his weight, you couldn't help but wonder how this night had spiraled so far from your quiet plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving you feeling oddly bereft despite your earlier desire to be free of him. You stood there, catching your breath, watching the rise and fall of Logan's chest as he settled into the couch, already half-asleep.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the aged leather creaked in protest under his substantial weight. You couldn't help but marvel at how drastically this night had veered from your meticulously laid plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving behind a peculiar sense of absence. It was a feeling that caught you off guard, considering your earlier desperation to be free of his burdensome presence.

For a moment, you stood there, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Your eyes traced the rise and fall of Logan's broad chest as he settled into the couch, his features already softening with the onset of sleep. The furrows in his brow, usually so pronounced, began to smooth out, giving him an almost peaceful appearance that seemed at odds with the tumultuous events of the night.

Shaking your head, you turned back to your project, eager to lose yourself in the familiar comfort of organization and creativity. Each piece fell into place with a satisfying click, the world narrowing down to the careful arrangement of photos and timelines. Time seemed to slip away as you worked, the rhythmic sound of Logan's breathing fading into white noise.

Despite the rhythmic process you had created, your mind managed to stray to the man beside you. Logan's presence, even in his unconscious state, was impossible to ignore. Your eyes drifted from your work to his sleeping form, tracing the rugged lines of his face that you'd memorized long ago.

A familiar ache bloomed in your chest, a bittersweet mixture of longing and resignation. How many days and nights had you spent like this, stealing glances at Logan when he wasn't aware, allowing yourself to imagine a reality where his eyes would light up at the sight of you? But that was a fantasy, and you knew it.

Your fingers absently toyed with a photo of Jean Grey that had fallen from your timeline. Even in this candid shot, her beauty was undeniable. Logan's voice, slurred with alcohol, echoed in your mind: "Jean." Of course, it always came back to Jean.

You couldn't blame him, not really. Jean was everything - brilliant, powerful, compassionate. And you? You were just... you. The history teacher who helped patch him up after missions, who listened to his rare moments of vulnerability, who silently loved him from afar.

A soft murmur from the couch drew your attention. Logan's face had contorted, his lips moving soundlessly. Was he dreaming of her even now? The thought sent a pang through your heart.

"She's with Scott, Logan." You shook your head.

The words tasted bitter on your tongue. Because that was the cruel irony, wasn't it? Jean was utterly devoted to Scott Summers. Her love for him was as clear as day to everyone - everyone except Logan. He clung to hope like a drowning man to driftwood, blind to the fact that Jean's heart belonged to another. Just as he was blind to your feelings for him.

You turned back to your work, trying to lose yourself once more in the familiar task. But your eyes kept drifting to the leather jacket draped over a nearby chair - Logan's jacket. How many times had you imagined him placing it around your shoulders on a cold night? How many times had you dreamed of being the one he looked at with that intensity, that raw need?

But those were just dreams. Reality was this: Logan, passed out on the couch beside you, murmuring another woman's name in his sleep. A woman who would never return his feelings. And you, silently loving a man who would never see you as anything more than a friend.

The spell was abruptly broken by a loud, guttural grunt from the couch. Startled, you whirled around, your heart leaping into your throat. Logan's peaceful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a mask of distress. His forehead was creased, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling as if grasping for something just out of reach.

The realization hit you like a splash of cold water: he was having a nightmare.

Pushing your chair into the table with a soft scrape, you rose to your feet. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you approached Logan. Years of living in a school full of mutants with varying degrees of control had taught you the value of caution, especially when dealing with someone as potentially dangerous as Logan in a vulnerable state.

You positioned yourself at the head of the couch, carefully staying out of range of his arms - and more importantly, his claws. Your eyes flicked nervously to his hands, half-expecting to see the glint of adamantium at any moment. Swallowing hard, you steeled yourself and reached out, your hand hovering uncertain over his forehead.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. The man before you was a far cry from the intimidating, gruff Logan you knew. In sleep, trapped in the throes of a nightmare, he looked almost... vulnerable. It was a side of him you'd never seen, never even imagined existed.

Taking a deep breath, you gently placed your fingertips on his temple. The skin there was hot to the touch, almost feverish. You could feel the rapid pulse of his temporal artery beneath your fingers, a testament to the intensity of whatever visions were plaguing him.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet of the library. "It's okay. You're safe." He let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb through his unruly hair, something you had never dared to do before. His usual gruffness is stripped away, and what remains is raw, untethered vulnerability—both his and yours.

His breath is uneven as he shifts under your touch, but your movements remain steady, soothing him. The weight of unspoken feelings that have built up over the years presses down on you. The sight of Logan up close so troubled and lost pulls at your heartstrings in a way you can’t ignore anymore.

"Logan," you whisper again, this time more firmly, urging him back to reality. His eyes flutter open, hazy and disoriented. For a moment, they lock onto yours. There's no Jean, no Scott, no X-Men—just the two of you in this quiet, dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand moves up to catch yours as it rests on his hair, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the strength behind it. "Why... why are you here?" he mumbles, voice still hoarse and thick with sleep, but there’s something else beneath the surface.

"I'm here because you needed me," you reply softly, the words feeling far too loaded but still true. The tension in his grip tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if you're imagining the way his eyes darken, the hint of desperation and something else swirling within them.

"Don't you have someone else to take care of? I'm not worth the trouble..." His words are a mixture of bitterness and regret, and it cuts deep. You shake your head slowly, heart pounding in your chest.

"You are worth it, Logan," you whisper, barely able to believe the words have left your mouth. Maybe it’s the weight of the years you’ve spent suppressing your feelings, or the heavy air filled with alcohol and desperation, but something shifts between you two in that moment.

Without thinking, Logan sits up, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer to sit beside him, bodies pressed together. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, your body leaning against his, faces only inches apart. His breath is warm and carries the sharp, smoky scent of whiskey, but beneath it lingers something else—something raw, unspoken, and heavy between you. The proximity feels electric, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface.

For a split second, neither of you moves. You can feel the thrum of Logan’s pulse where his chest presses against yours, and his eyes, dark and stormy, search your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe an answer to a question neither of you has dared to ask aloud. The weight of unrequited love hangs between you, an invisible thread that pulls you closer even as you hesitate. You've both been running from this, denying it, but now it feels inevitable.

Logan's hand lingers on your arm, his rough fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His jaw clenches, and you can see the battle raging inside him, the unspoken words on his lips threatening to spill out. "I—" he starts, his voice rough and hesitant, like he's about to confess something too heavy to bear, but you don’t let him finish. You can't, not when you're both teetering on this razor's edge.

You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative press. For a heartbeat, Logan freezes, his body going rigid with surprise, but then something in him snaps. His right hand snakes down your left side pulling you even closer, as his other hand cups the back of your neck, and he pulls you deeper into the kiss, his lips urgent, almost desperate. It's not gentle—it’s raw, filled with the intensity of everything he's never said. The kiss is a release of all the years spent pining for someone else, all the nights spent wishing for what he could never have.

You know this isn’t love, not the kind either of you have been hoping for. It’s about filling the hollow space left by the people who’ll never look at you the way you want them to. You’re both seeking something that’s just out of reach, using each other to drown out the ache of unrequited love that’s settled deep in your bones. Jean's name might as well be carved into the air between you, but tonight, that pain is dulled, replaced by the heat and urgency of the moment.

His grip on you tightens as the kiss deepens, a silent understanding passing between you. This isn’t about forever. It’s about right now—two people grasping for something real, even if it’s fleeting, even if it doesn’t fill the spaces you need it to. You know that come morning, things will be different, but for now, you both allow yourselves this escape.

Logan’s tongue licks tentatively at your lips, you give him the permission he’s silently seeking as your lips part. You feel lightheaded as his tongue slides into your mouth, and your groin feels hot as Logan lets out the filthiest groan into your mouth.

You let out a soft whine as you grab at his shirt, his muscles hot and firm under the fabric. As Logan continues to indulge in the taste of you, fingers trail down the front of his shirt all the way to and under the hem. Your fingers lightly drag across the thin sliver of skin and you feel Logan’s hip twitch, and he pulls away sighing lightly into your mouth.

He adorned the sexiest look on his smug face. Granted he still looked inebriated but this time instead of being drunk on whiskey.. he was drunk on you. Mother of all that is good and well, you know you should say something, be reasonable, smart, but dammit if there’s one thing you will stick by it’s that you will always help a friend in need…

You bring him close, hands clasping behind his neck and pulling him in as you swing your leg over his lap straddling him. His hands immediately meet the small of your back, and he leans in to kiss you again pulling you flush to his chest.

Now its your turn to take control in the kiss, Logan pliant as you lap at his mouth. He lets you think your in charge until he takes you by surprise and uses one hand to grab the hair at the back of your head. You lose your rhythm for a second and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue along yours, saliva pooling in your mouths and melting in the middle. He begins to suck on the slick pink muscle and you give in.

Whatever ounce of worry, hesitation, anxiety, any reservation whatsoever you could have had left your body and you gave in to desire. That bitch, that deliciously sinful demon had got her way as the muscles in your legs gave in and you relax onto Logans lap. He continues to slurp at your mouth, and you mewl. Never in your life had anyone done this to you before. Not only was it filthy, it was incredibly hot.

The heat in your groin burned your insides leaving you with an ache you needed to relieve. Your hips buck reflexively as you feel a wetness pool on the fabric of your underwear. You let a moan slip out of your mouth, and Logan let out a deep and throaty chuckle. His fingers go back beneath the waistline of your pants, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips and grinding you down against his pelvis.

You threw your head into the crook of Logan’s neck as he began to buck his hips into yours at a steady rhythm. His fingers digging harder into your skin, as he applied more pressure. You could feel the thin fabrics of your underwear and sleep shorts soak the more you rubbed against Logan. You began to gyrate your hips in tighter circles.

“Ah, fuck.” You breathed out as you pressed your forehead to the brute of a man beneath you. “Logan, Logan, come on, stop teasing.” You panted between breaths. Logan shifted a bit beneath you causing your neglected clit to get caught during your motions. Your head lolled to the side and then back as a whimper turned into a full cry of frustration. God, you wanted this pain, this ache you were feeling to go away and you’d do anything to make it stop.

Logan’s grip tightened on your hips, as he stilled your body for a second.

“What the fuck,” You hissed, trying to slide your wet heat on Logans definite show-er and grower but the man loved to tease. Logan continued to hold your hips and you began to grow frustrated. The feeling of his smirk against your neck causing tears to come to your eyes.

“Logan, please.” You whimpered, your voice shaking. You feel him freeze and you mentally shoot yourself in the foot— You didn’t want this to be a thing with emotions, it was bad enough that the first time you’re having sex with the man you’ve loved for five years is as a one night fling. You didn’t want to have to think about the emotional repercussions before having what you’re pretty sure is going to be the best orgasm of your life.

In a moment of panic, and wanting to shift the focus you lean forward, and your hands find the button of Logan’s pants. You unbuckle the belt, and he peppers kisses along your shoulders, your fingers fumble with the button, and he noses your jaw, you slide down the zipper and he pecks your neck. All of a sudden the intimacy becomes too much so you trail your hands at the band of his underwear and you begin to pull the fabric down. Coarse hair grazes your fingers, and before you can stop yourself your hand runs up his stomach, and down back to his groin— his breath shudders against the nape of your neck as he begins to nip at your skin.

Before you can fully expose the man he grabs your hand and puts it on his shoulder as if saying to let him do the work. You obey and lift your hips to give him space. Next thing you know your being guided back close to him, hovering over his groin.

While you hadn’t seen his dick fully yet, you knew the mutant was big. You could tell regardless of the scenario. The way he walks, the way he sits— legs spread so wide it’s like he’s constantly inviting you to kneel between them. Missing the opportunity this time didn’t make you think any different though, this man was massive. The heat within your body was already painful enough, but now the heat you feel outside your cunt was unbearable.

Your right hand slid between your bodies as you reached for Logan's thick dick. He let out a low growl as your fingers wrapped around his shaft. Logan's fingers reached for the fabric between your thighs, moving the soaked cloth to the side urging you to put his cock inside.

You guide the tip to your entrance and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. You feel heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but the aggression in Logan’s breathing gives you relief that you’re not the only one desperate. But for who it was is a different story.

Logan got impatient and lifted his hips to push the tip past, and your mouth fell open as a silent moan possessed your body. God, you were right. He was so thick, the stretch was borderline unbearable but before you could fully adjust Logan began to thrust up even further. His dick going so deep, the tip hit the spongy part.

He let out a strangled grunt as he held your hips down, and you squirmed.

“You needa stop that.” He barked, as he rolled his head back against the couch rest, trying to control himself as he felt your hole clench around him.

“I’m sorry,” You sob, trying to adjust but the pain and pleasure were too overwhelming you could feel yourself losing focus.

“I just–” He shushes you by cradling you against his shoulder, arms enveloping you in a tight hug, and just when you think you’ve calmed down he devours you like you’re his last meal. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you from his lap before he brings you down and he thrusts up.

A sob escapes your lips as his hips fire off like a pistol, thrusting in and out, brutal but so worth it as your desires are finally being satiated. He’s holding onto you like if he let go you’d float away. A string of curses fill the air as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck, fuck, Logan.” You mumble, words slowly leaving your mouth.

“Awe,” Logan tuts as his hips fall into a normal pace, his hand coming to caress the back of your hair. “Don’t tell me this pussy is lightweight, we’ve only just started and you’re already acting like this?” You don’t respond, and instead let out soft moans as he continues to fuck into your abused cunt. Logan uses the opportunity to pull you back by your hair (again) to examine your face. It’s flushed red, glowing with perspiration, your chest panting as you try to catch your breath.

“No baby that won’t do.” He caresses the hair out of your face and nuzzles his face against yours. His facial hair prickling your skin. He places a kiss on your forehead before he pounds into you faster, deeper than before. You can barely keep your eyes open and all the sounds that leave your lips are just pathetic little whimpers and sobs.

"M'close." He grunts and you can't help but agree. "You gonna come, sweetheart?" You can't find the words and nod, pliant like a ragdoll in his arms. He groans.

"C'mon. You can do better than that, can't ya? Tell me."

"Fuck yes," you pant, your voice barely audible between gasps. You writhe beneath him, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, but with his hands pinning your wrists, the only thing you manage to grab is the rough hair on his lower abdomen, the friction of it grounding you as much as the heat and slap of his body. "Please… don’t stop."

His grip tightens on your wrists, the pressure pushing you to the edge as he moves faster, his breath hot against your skin. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body, every nerve alight with anticipation and need.

"That's it," he growls, voice thick with control as he watches you fall apart beneath him. "Let go."

You can feel it building, the tension coiling in your core, and with one final snap of his hips, you shatter—your body arching, toes curling, a strangled cry escaping your lips. The world blurs, everything outside this moment fading as you hit your peak, wave after wave crashing over you.

But even through the haze, you feel him reaching his own release. His pace becomes erratic, his muscles tensing, and as he finally falls over the edge, his body tight against yours, he groans—a low, guttural sound—before the name slips out.

"Jean—"

The word cuts through the air like a knife, your euphoria draining in an instant, replaced by a sharp, hollow ache in your chest.

Your heart plummets, and the warmth of his body that moments ago felt so consuming now feels like ice against your skin. The name he whispered isn’t yours. It echoes in your head, louder than the pounding of your pulse, louder than the ragged breaths you're both still catching. You feel like you’ve been struck, yet somehow, you’re not surprised. You always knew this wasn’t really about you. But it doesn’t stop the ache spreading through your chest.

You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat as the reality of it all comes crashing down. This was always going to hurt.

For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The weight of the moment lingers, heavy and unbearable. His body relaxes, but the guilt etched into his expression is unmistakable, and you can feel the shift in the air. The intimacy that just moments ago had been raw and consuming has evaporated, leaving behind only an awkward silence and a sense of regret so thick it’s suffocating.

You disentangle yourself from him slowly, the warmth of his skin now foreign, a reminder of what you never really had. You sit up, your body still trembling, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts. The room feels stifling now, every breath you take thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Logan’s eyes open, still clouded with the haze of pleasure, but they widen when he realizes what he’s done—what he’s said. Panic flashes across his face, but it’s too late. You’ve heard it, and you can’t unhear it.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath, his hand reaching out as if to apologize, but you’re already pulling away, slipping out of his grasp like sand between his fingers.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, though the crack in it betrays you. You force yourself to keep moving, pulling your clothes back into place, each motion slow and deliberate, as if trying to hold yourself together with every button and clasp.

He doesn’t say anything, and for once, you’re grateful. You don’t want to hear an apology, you don’t want to hear him stumble over words of regret. You don’t want to hear him say her name again.

You stand up, back turned to him, your chest heaving not from passion, but from the pain you can’t quite swallow down. Your hands are shaking as you adjust your clothes, but you refuse to let him see it. You knew this was a mistake. You knew this wasn’t love.

“This was never meant to fix anything,” you finally say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I was just… trying to help.” The words taste bitter, but they’re true. You’d gotten caught up, you’d let yourself believe—if only for a moment—that maybe it could be more. But it never was.

Logan sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking at you with something that could almost be remorse. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He made his choice long before tonight.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you meet his gaze. His eyes are still shadowed by the weight of his unrequited love, and you can see it all too clearly now. You were never the one he needed. You never stood a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, turning back to the door, your footsteps heavy as you leave the room, abandoning the project you had started earlier that night, each step pulling you farther away from the moment that should’ve never happened.

But even as you walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that for a second, despite knowing better, you let yourself believe it was real.

———

a/n: i thrive off of feedback and criticism.

[flowersforbucky]

magnetic field

erik lehnsherr x reader

word count: 2k

summary: takes place following the events of days of future past. reader is a mutant with elemental manipulation powers.

a/n: this goes out to the three erik/magneto fans that will read this 🤧 i don't have high hopes for this but i still thought i'd give sharing it a shot. very well may end up deleting it but we will see lol

warnings/tags: a little bit of angst but mostly fluff! kissing, suggestiveness, implied smut but nothing graphic

You just keep me coming back

Something about how opposites attract

You hold me down

I'm in it for real

Love me, leave me high and dry

I'm back in your arms and I don't know why

I can't get around your magnetic field

- magnetic field by lights

It's just past dusk on a Sunday evening when he shows up on your doorstep with drenched clothes and dripping wet hair.

You knew that you were bound to see him again one day. You just didn't expect it to be here, or quite this soon.

“What are you doing here, Erik?”

You cross your arms and lean against the frame of your small cabin's front door, wrapping your cardigan tighter around yourself as you take in his appearance.

It had only been a few months since you had last seen him in D.C., but those few months had taken their toll on him. Dark circles encase his eyes that appear almost hollow.

“It always seems to rain when you're feeling particularly nervous,” he says with a half smirk. Thunder booms from above as rain beats down harder on the tin roof of your porch.

“It's Oregon,” you shrug. You concentrate on keeping your voice even. “It's rained for the last five days.”

He's not wrong. You do tend to subconsciously make it rain when you're nervous.

He chuckles under his breath, taking a step closer to you. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Do you really have to ask why I'm here?”

Now it's you who avoids his question. You have your hopes as to why he's here, but you can't bring yourself to feed into them. Not after all this time - after years of trying to move on while he was imprisoned, followed by a brief reunion during the events of Paris and D.C. that left your heart shattered all over again just a few months ago.

Can you really let yourself believe that he's simply here for you?

You raise a single hand to the side of his neck, your palm caressing the wet skin of his throat. His eyes narrow but he doesn't flinch away, only watches you curiously.

A second later, his previously soaked clothes and sopping wet hair are completely dry. He glances down, realizing what you did as you reluctantly pull your hand away from his skin. You think maybe - just maybe - a hint of disappointment flashes through his eyes at the loss of contact.

“Can't have you dripping all over my carpet,” you sigh, turning to retreat back into the house. You hear the front door click shut and you know that he's followed your lead inside.

“So, why Oregon?” He asks hesitantly as he slips his coat off and hangs it on a hook in the foyer. You turn to find him taking in the appearance of the place you've been trying to call home for the last few months. His eyes skim over the piles of books scattered throughout the small living room, and then to the bouquet of wilted zinnias on your dining room table that you had picked in hopes of making the bland space feel more lively.

“I'll answer your questions if you answer mine,” you offer, leaning against the edge of your kitchen counter. He walks to the dining room table a few feet away from you and pulls out a chair, taking a seat in front of where you stand.

“That sounds fair enough to me, darling.”

Your heart skips a beat at the familiar pet name. It feels as if it's been a lifetime since you've heard him call you that.

“I came here once as a kid,” you answer simply. “After what happened a few months ago, I couldn't bring myself to go back to New York. Charles, the mansion.. everything reminded me of you. I just needed to get away for a while.

He looks down at his lap, unable to hold your gaze. “I have so many regre–”

“Your turn,” you interrupt as you turn to the cabinet behind you. You rummage through it, gathering a tea kettle and a mug.

You aren't ready to hear his apologies. As badly as your heart has wanted to hear that he's sorry for so long, to hear him say that he regrets ever doing anything to jeopardize what the two of you had - you don't trust yourself to not crumble into a million pieces at those words now that he's sitting in your kitchen.

“How did you find me?” You ask without looking back at him. You fill the kettle with water, and bring it to a boil in seconds with the snap of your fingers.

“I'll tell you,” he says over the sharp whistle of the kettle. “But you can't laugh at me.”

You snort, pouring the boiling water over an earl grey tea bag as you try to ignore the swell of bitterness in your chest at the nostalgia of it. Memories of this exact scenario in a different time and place flash through your mind - a happier, more innocent time and place. You carry the mug over to where he sits and place it in front of him before pulling out the chair next to him.

You hold out your pinky towards him, elbow on the dining room table. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“I pinky promise that I won't laugh at you,” you say, little finger still extended. He leans forward, lips forming a smirk as he wraps his pinky around yours. His skin is every bit as soft and warm as you remember it being and you dread the moment that he pulls away.

“I went to the mansion,” he answers with his finger still secured around yours. “I snuck into Charles’ study when no one was home and found some letters you had written to him. I saw the return address on the envelope.”

“Huh,” you muse. “I guess I see why you made me promise not to laugh.” You're not sure what you were expecting his answer to be, but you didn’t think it would be quite so… human.

“Your turn to answer a question, darling.”

Your only response is a small nod.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” you answer, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I don’t.”

His posture slackens, relief taking over his features. He leans over to where your fingers are intertwined, and presses his lips to the side of your pinky finger. It has been years since his lips have touched your skin, but you melt at the familiar warmth all the same.

“Good,” he sighs in relief. His breath fans over your skin, leaving a visible trail of goosebumps over your hand. “I do not intend to leave unless you order me away.”

Your eyes burn with tears that threaten to spill over. His sudden appearance, his words, his mere presence after so much time apart is overwhelming. Despite it all, you can’t bring yourself to care about the reasons why you’ve had to spend so much time apart.

He’s here, and that’s enough for you. Everything else can be addressed in time.

You bring your free hand to his face, cupping his jawline in your palm. Your thumb skims over the stubble that graces his cheeks.

“What do we do now?” you wonder aloud. His pale eyes crinkle as he gives you the first smile that you’ve seen from him in years.

“We try to make up for lost time.”

••••••

You heat him some leftovers from the dinner you had made for yourself not long before his arrival, a bowl of chicken noodle soup and homemade bread. He scarfs the food and the tea that you'd made for him down within minutes, and then retreats to your cabin’s small bathroom to rinse off the last few days of cross-country travel. He had brought a singular duffel bag that now rests on the foot of your bed - which just so happens to be the only bed in the house, seeing as how it's a one bedroom and you live here alone.

Butterflies fill your belly at the implication. There was once a time where it never would have been a question - of course the two of you would have shared the only bed in the house. Now, doing so could very well mean diving back in too quickly and ending up broken all over again.

But then again, didn't that become a possibility the second that you opened your door to find him on your porch?

“What’s on your mind?” His soft voice sounds from behind you. You had been so lost in thought that you didn't hear him exit the bathroom and wander back down the hallway.

You turn to find him leaning against your bedroom door frame, wearing only a towel that hangs loosely from his hips. His chestnut hair still drips wet.

Your eyes flicker between him and the spare quilt that you have piled in your arms.

“You can sleep in here,” you tell him with a nod towards the bed that you'd just put a set of fresh sheets on. “I'll take the couch.”

He chuckles lowly, standing up straight as you walk towards the door, blocking your exit.

“Don't be silly. I'm not going to kick you out of your bed in your own home,” he tells you in a gentle but firm tone.

“You're not kicking me out of my bed,” you assure him. “I'm offering it to you.”

Your cheeks warm under his gaze that you struggle to hold - your eyes threatening to wander down the expanse of his chest with the rise and fall of each breath that he takes.

“It's loads comfier that whatever cot that you were sleeping on in prison, I promise,” you jab at him lightly when he doesn't respond.

He hums in consideration, taking a step closer to you.

“It's not the cot that I minded so much while I was in prison. It's the fact that any bed without you in it feels empty.”

A clap of thunder booms in the distance at the same time that your heart skips a beat.

“I'm not expecting anything to happen, darling,” he assures you lightly. “We don't even have to touch. After so much time apart, I just want to be next to you.”

You exhale a breath that you didn't realize you had been holding in, and place the quilt in your arms on the dresser right next to you.

“Don't be silly,” you repeat his sentiment from just moments ago. You take a step closer to him, now able to smell hints of Old Spice soap from his shower. “Of course you can touch me. If that's what you want.”

“If that's what I want?” He scoffs softly, inching towards you. You place your hands on his hips, walking backwards until your thighs brush against the edge of your mattress. You're lodged between him and the bed, his bare chest practically brushing against yours.

“As if I’d ever not want that.”

He raises his hands to each side of your face and tilts your head up to look at him. His thumb massages over the swell of your bottom lip, his eyes locked on your mouth.

“Erik,” you breathe, and before you can get out another word, his lips are slated over yours. You pull him flush against you by your hold on his waist.

When you close your eyes and focus solely on the feeling of his mouth moving in synchrony with yours, you forget where you're at and everything that's happened over the course of the last decade. In this moment, you're not in a run down cabin in the middle of nowhere Oregon - you're in the courtyard of the mansion and he's kissing you for the very first time.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers against your mouth when he pulls away. You raise up on your toes, pressing your lips against his one more time before pulling back to stare up at him with a smirk. You sit down on the edge of the mattress and scoot back, pulling him down with you.

“Then let's make up for lost time.”

You don’t notice it until you're drifting to sleep in each other's arms hours later, but the thunderstorm that had been raging upon his arrival had slowed to a silent, peaceful mist.

thank you for reading ♡ comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

yall i know i got to finish as if destiny but would you be willing to read a Charles Xavier x leshner!(erik/magnetos sister) reader?

(Possibly a bit of alex summers too bc i love my white boys) It would be set during first class.(hopefully if yall like it continue to days future past). I've been wanting to write it for so long but thought the x men Fandom was dead but with deapool and wolverine and x men 97, i feel its getting picked up again. So please PLEASE let a girl know😔🙏

ALSO if you wish (and I would love to oblige) wade and Logan can totally be tied in :)

[gladiatorcunt]

- EASTER EGG BASKET | VII.

together, intertwined, mouths bruised with love and souls bitten

cw: kinktober prompt (spit roasting), fem reader, age gap (reader in their 20s & cherik in their 40s), set during first class but they’re older and the school’s already established more, unprotected sex, teacher’s pet!reader, eventual teacher-student relationship, background established cherik and a mention of alex x hank, power imbalance, dubcon, lowkey coercion, “slut” used one time by you @ you, southern!reader, controlling older men :3

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“And what do we have here?”

You stop your mindless floating in the pool, freezing at the sound of a deep male voice. You knew exactly who it was from the very first disappointed breath.

“Mr. Lehnsherr, um, fancy seeing you here.” You bite your lip, awkwardly kicking your legs back and forth since your mutant ability unfortunately isn’t catapulting your body out of water.

“Yes, in the manor’s off limits after hours pool, how funny.” Erik says flatly, unamused. “Lights out was five minutes ago, my dear, care to tell me why exactly you aren’t in bed?”

You sheepishly scratch the back of your neck, “I just wanted to come cool off, I was going right back to bed da- sir, I swear.”

Great. Now your cheeks are hot at your near slip up, something that your teacher seems to catch. His lips quirk up on a barely there smile, and you suddenly wished you had the strong will to drown yourself right here right now.

“Oh, I wish I could believe you.” He tuts, not as willing to let you get away with shit like Charles, but Erik has his own soft spot for you. “And what are you wearing? Because I know that isn’t one of the school’s swimsuits.”

The piece in question being a skimpy pink two piece, the bikini top covers only the upper half of your breasts and ends just under your nipples. The bottoms of your tits hang out through a cut out and the straps of the bottom rest high on your hips. The strings are held together by a little studded heart.

“It’s something from home, southern summers are hot, sir.” You don’t hide yourself away in newfound shame despite that being what you’re feeling.

You cross your arms under your boobs, pushing the ample mounds up and squishing them together. Erik’s cold eyes follow the movement and he swallows, but the same unimpressed look is still plastered all over his face. You want to pout and stomp your foot, but you’re lucky he hasn’t turned your ass in to Charles yet, maybe there’s a way for you to get out of this without a punishment of any kind.

“Yes, well.” His voice is gruff as he clears his throat, “Charles sent me to find you. He gets worried when you’re not where he expects you to be, where we both expect you to be, am I clear?”

Your guilt isn’t as believable when your ass cheeks are out for one of the teachers you’re insane over to leer at, but you do drown in it. You’re miles away from any family, and when your ultra religious southern family found out about you being a mutant, they called you a demon and promptly kicked you out. You’re lucky that Charles found you when he did, and the things he and later Erik learned that you had been through made them feel quite protective of you.

You know perfectly well that it feels good to be a teacher's pet at the top of the class who never does anything wrong in their eyes. To get male validation just for breathing in their general direction, especially when there are so many students here with similar if not worse sob stories. For you at least, it was love at first sight.

You just really needed this one little instance of rebellion, to do laps back and forth in the perfectly cool blue water until the thoughts of being stuck between teachers who are twice your age were washed away. And that was after you had played with your clit only to scream into your pillow because you couldn’t get over that peak.

“I know, I'm sorry it was just this one time. I’ll use the pool when it’s open during the day next time, I promise.” You nod, willing to just take the loss and say whatever Erik wants to hear so you go back to your dorm without this ever getting back to Charles’s ears.

With Erik, disappointing him is kind of sexy because he scowls and his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms before he scolds you. He has rough hands that you can so easily imagine smacking the shit out of you, and you don’t just imagine him hitting your ass either.

Plus, his comfort hit so much deeper when he would cup your face and stroke a thumb over your hair, letting you the softness seep into his gaze when you promise to be good.

With Charles, disappointing him is still sexy, but you feel awful much quicker. He’s a real “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” kind of man, and seeing the way his mouth twists and he refuses to even look you in the eye has you shrinking like a violet. It takes a lot more begging to get his attention and even more sincere promises to do better to get him to smile again, chuckling and fondly exasperated as he instructs you to run along.

Erik is still in the bulging biceps phase, glaring down at you at the edge of the pool until something unreadable flashes across his vision. “You know what? You’re right, you are sorry, why don’t I keep you company in the pool if you’re so stressed? Since you can’t be trusted to not wander off on your own right now.”

Your eyes widen to the size of marbles as you watch your teacher strip off his hoodie and shorts, down to only his bare body, and jump in the pool beside you. You sputter and hurriedly wipe away the water that splashes your face. Erik chuckles and swims to brush up against your front, immediately grabbing your waist and digging his fingers into your flesh.

His hands drift up to run along the sides of your breasts, groping you through the wet fabric. You trace his stubble and whimper into his mouth when he bites your lower lip. Your breath hitches, helplessly staring into his eyes, not fighting or pushing him away. He gets the answer that he wants to the question in his eyes and sweeps you into a kiss, the swolshing of the water moving around you is the only thing you can hear other than your thundering heartbeat.

The rest, as they say, is history. Because you’re making out with Erik in no time flat and humping his bare cock the best you can in the water when a familiar throat clearing sound goes off like a gun above you. The heavy clack of his oxfords pounding the wet tile surrounding the pool, the fancy french cologne that you’ve imagined stealing and spraying on your pillow.

There he is, you had to know in the back of your mind that once Erik had gotten there, it was only a matter of time before Charles followed. You lick away the string of spit connecting you and Erik and smile your most charming smile, still humping him even as Charles frowns.

“S-sir, we were just- I’m gonna go back to bed soon, honest.” It’s flimsy and a god awful apology but you’re too horny to care. You can make it up to him after somebody screws your brains out, not a second before.

And Charles knows already, you can feel him in your mind and while you’re definitely self conscious about what he sees, you can’t help but sigh in relief when he starts unbuckling his belt after rifling around in there for a minute. His blue eyes seem more vivid to you now, watered with color in the face of your wildly inappropriate feelings.

“Do not think I'm not still upset with you, young lady, we have curfews for a reason and if you can’t follow them, you’ll be confined to going to your classes and going straight to your dorm.” His melodic voice warns you, but you can only beam and nod so he sighs, resolving to tell you again when you don’t have a singular thought bubble with a picture of their cocks in your brain.

“Yes yes yes, I promise this won’t happen again, just please, sir.” You’re not above begging already, part of being a teacher’s pet means doing what you have to do to keep yourself on the pedestal they put you on.

Erik’s hands flex on your waist, “Now now, don’t be so eager, pet. Wouldn’t want you to get too cock hungry now would we?”

He says it like they obviously would but Charles shoots him a look and Erik laughs, going back to groping your tits through your bikini top. Charles soon slips into the water on your other side, and soon enough you’re sandwiched in between the both of them. Charles runs his hands down your back and settles them on your ass, sharply smacking the globes before telling Erik to sit on the edge of the pool.

“You’re going to give me more gray hairs than I already have, you know that?” Charles sighs, “It’s only fitting I take some of that stress out on this gorgeous body, hm, darling?”

“Uh huh, I’m so so sorry, sir.” You babble, pitching yourself forward to mouth at Erik’s bare length as Charles slides his hands around your hips and grinds against your ass.

Erik spreads his legs, “Greedy girl, come get it then.”

You suckle at the thick tip, flicking your tongue out to catch the drops of pre that leak out and take him down your throat as Charles pulls the strings of your bikini bottom loose. You squeal in pleasant surprise when he parts your ass cheeks to get a good look of your pussy underwater, running his thumbs over your folds and teasingly dipping into your hole.

You whine around Erik’s cock, already to the hilt, his balls resting on your chin. He chuckles and pats your cheek, goading Charles into giving the poor thing what she wants already, you might die of need on them.

“We’ve fantasized about this while we fucked on our own time, Charles, there’s no use in pretending any longer.”

You eagerly hum on Erik’s length, bobbing your head up and down, only faltering at the hint of Charles’s cockhead against your entrance. He teasingly swipes it through, slipping a few of his fingers in to stretch you enough while causing you too much pain. You have to face some kind of punishment after all, he and Erik will kiss it better later.

“Now, pet, keep your mouth where it is and relax your legs, let me in.” Charles pants, slowly sinking into your tight warmth as you suck Erik off.

Once you’ve adjusted enough, despite still reeling from the stretch and burn, his slow but deep thrusts push your head further into Erik’s lap. You look up at the latter with teary eyes, he laughs and brushes them away from your lower lash line, guiding you to bob your head more.

Charles hisses, fingernails scratching at your love handles as he picks up the pace. He loves the way you gag on Erik when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the way you can’t run away from either them or what they do to you or what you do to them. He knows that this moment was inevitable, always in motion and in the making since the day you met. You project your dirty little fantasies so loudly, Charles would have to lock the door to his classroom after every period so he could get himself off.

You gurgle around Erik, your nose buried in his trimmed pubes and inhaling his musk as you deepthroat him. Charles tightens his grip, moving to grope and play your ass from behind, his thrusts speed up even faster. Eventually the water is rippling around the three of you, the manor’s pool making mini waves as Charles’s girthier cock splits your pussy open.

You feel so full, your mind is so painted white that you can’t think about anything else but the long dick filling your mouth and the thick dick buried in your velvet grip.

“So good for us, if you were feeling restless you could’ve just sneaked into either one of our rooms. We wouldn’t have minded.” Someone says, maybe Charles, even though he would be the one who would protest too much before giving up the charade.

You give up on actively sucking Erik off and just let the force of Charles’s thrusts shoot you up and down to take his length into your mouth over and over and over. Blinking up at them in a daze as if you have no other thoughts in your puppy brain, just a bimbo slut for them to share and use between them. You drift in that sub space for ages, letting them direct your movements on their cocks like the most loved and well kept doll in the world.

“Fuck, darling!” Charles grunts, pounding your gummy walls and focusing on your choked up whines and moans.

Erik groans, his large hips jutting pistoning his aching dick into you, caught up in the embrace of your tongue and throat. The sight of your lips stretched obscenely wide around his meat. He wishes he took the time to slap his shaft against your face, demeaning you with the tip on the center of your lolled out tongue.

“Hottest little mouth I’ve ever fucked, be proud of that, dear.” Erik grits out, wrestling his pleasure from the depths of your gaping jaw.

Charles reverently kneads the fat of your globes and Erik lovingly caresses the apple shaped swell of your cheeks with his rough fingertips. Both of the cocks in you twitch as they spill inside, and your eyes flutter shut. You’re too busy drinking every drop of Erik’s salty seed to react to Charles finessing your clit until you're dirtying the pool water with your own orgasm. Your fluids float off to mix with the bits of Charles that leak out of you, and you’re almost genuinely sad at the thought.

They intertwine their fingers when they push in a cold metal buttplug back in Charles' room, which you come to find out is one they share. That sentiment is true about the room as well.

You and Alex avoid looking each other in the eye when he catches you coming out of their room on the way to class, and you see Hank passed out on the bed behind his opened door.

[whoiseduardito]

Heeey so I've come to the sad realization that marvel has yet again made me simp over a character that is NEVER written for so, I was wondering if you would be willing to do a fluffy magneto fic.

Maybe where you are a new teacher a the school and had never me Erik and end up with a crush and he ends up finding out somehow. Idk sorry ik that was a long one.

I need something fluffy after these past episodes and Smut is fine with me but I'm not sure if your comfortable writing smut if not no big.

HEY! GET OUT OF MY WAY!

pairing: erik lehnsherrr (magneto) x reader warn: i love this type of fluff!!!!!!! a/n: my first req!! not proof read!!! horrible writing, rushed, you can tell i loved the sound of music trope.

so maybe you have a type.

older guys who have the humor of a rock.

...maybe just the older xenotype- but that's not important, totally not. the issue is that, you're crushin'. you're crushin' hard.

maybe it is the face, maybe it is the hair, but something about erik lehnsherr pulls you in, like a magnet, ironically.

you were the new teacher at the 'xavier's school for gifted youngsters, it was a pleasant experience, the students were nice (until their mutations were triggered, but that's not their fault), the ambient was too, and the pay? you could pay your rent, and more!

for you, the 'no crushing on coworkers' was bullshit, a harmless crush can't do that bad, as long as it's harmless.

so you continued with your lecture, 'history of mutation', very cool, you had even made a presentation, and then a kahoot, pretty cool right?

"so, the history of mutations can date back to many years, such as the sixth century-"

the door opened, all of the heads turned, and the person stepped in, you turned away from the board you were writing, your eyes searching for the person.

it was your fucking crush, it was fucking magneto.

your face drained of all color, and his electric freezing blue eyes stared back.

"uhh-"

"-..this is a senior class, correct?" he walked around the class, his eyes cutting contact from your's

"...y-yeah totally" he stopped near a decoration with 'mini prom!" painted on it with photos of the students as younger kids.

"then why are decorations everywhere?" he stared at it "this is not kindergarden."

damn. "well?"

"i-i thought it would be good to make this a nice atmosphere for the students."

"the world is not an nice atmosphere for mutants, is it?"

the class was dead silent, no one dared to breathe, even lightly.

"i want this off the wall before the end of the day." he made his way out.

"why?" you whispered

he stopped "because i said so, miss l/n. now rip it off"

oh, your mood had soured

"i'm sorry magneto, sir, but the decorations stay." you said those words with all of the backbone you have

"i'm the headmaster. it goes off."

"i'm the homeroom teacher, it stays."

you were a teeny tiny scared but for your students you'd fight him without your mutation. he glared, his piercing glare stayed on you

"i'm sorry mister magneto but in here, i give the best ambient for my students."

his stare became harder, and then he blinked, sighing and walking away "...i'd like to see you in my office, right now."

you gulped loudly, you're pretty sure he heard.

he began walking away, a beat passed until you realised he wanted you to follow him, you began walking alongside him.

the way there was silent, but your head was running, this is it, this is what you get for standing up for your students, shit.

he opened the door, and let you in, murmured a 'take a seat'

"...i am not fond of people disobeying my commands."

"i am aware, mister magneto."

"just call me sir, mister magneto is ticking me off"

"sorry, sir" you quickly said, most of the backbone you had you used it on standing up to him, and now you were getting fired.

"just answer me this." you nodded, you complied "you are aware that in this school you're just needed to teach them, and just make sure they understand how the world works, not pamper them, not make them decorations."

"but-"

"are you aware?"

"yes, but-"

"then why are you pampering them?"

ouch

"i'm going to move you, transfer you if you will"

"what?"

"roulette, the mutation to be able to randomize whatever power you have seen either physically or by any media."

you're screwed

"your mutation, am i right?"

"sir-"

"you're going to work with me to make them control their mutation."

"...what?"

"you and me, are going to train them."

"uhm.... who?"

he sighed loudly, he surely had a small fuse "your students."

great! teaching with magneto.

"...you sure sir?"

"i am sure."

breaking the news to your students was easy, making them behave so you don't look like a doof, was hard.

many classes had passed with mag- mister lehnsherr (he had told you to stop calling him 'magneto'), each day was hard but sometimes you picked at his stony personality, hoping that he would notice, sometimes you swear you saw him crack a small grin when you made a joke or had integration activities for your class, and your tiny crush had maybe turned into a bigger crush.

"teach'?"

"hm?" the voice of one of your students pulled you out of your meditation spot "what is it?"

"are you okay? you've been in this spot for the whole break."

"oh here? this is a great spot to think." it was a tree behind the mansion, in a secluded corner.

"mister magento is looking for you." they sat next to you beneath the tree

"why?" they shrugged

"maybe's cause he likes you" your head snapped to their direction

"...don't be silly" you tried to look away "he doesn't"

"really? 'cause i always hear his heart beating faster, when you do something or appear." their mutation was enhanced hearing, you blushed

"oh, stop lying." you snorted

"he does!" they jabbed you with their fingers to tease you "and you like him back!"

"shut up!" you laughed

"you do! you do!" they chuckled, suddenly they remained quiet and a smirk slowly was painted in their face "i'll leave you both alone" they walked away

"wha?-"

"miss l/n?"

oh shit.

"do you like me?" you turned your head slowly to face him.

"mister lehnsherr!-"

"please, call me erik." he chuckled, maybe the first time you saw his face in a smirk that isn't evil. "and how about a coffee to discuss about your teaching methods?"

[kaznejis]

We're hanging on by a heartbeat- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

“You’re bringing Hank, right?”  She gritted her teeth, a blush tinging her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, “Yes… not in that way though.”  “I need to borrow him.” “What-” She looked confused at first, but then something clicked; mirth creasing at her eyes and twisting her lips as she cocked her head at you, “Y/N! You want to make Erik jealous.” 

A/N: Thanks for all of the support on my fics!!! every comment, like, reblog and read is GREATLY appreciated. So, enjoy this fun little oneshot I found in my drafts. :)

Word Count: 5,250 / Read it on AO3!

“He’s gonna be there, Y/N,” Raven sighed, swirling her champagne glass as she pursed her lips at you, “Charles practically demanded that he be there despite his refusals, I think he promised him that he’d get you to speak to him.” She accompanied the last words with exaggerated air quotes. 

“Mhm,” You grumbled, fiddling with your outfit in the mirror, “And that means, you are not allowed to leave me unattended. At any point.” 

“Y/N..” 

“Nope,” Turning towards her, splayed out on a chaise in her human form; a gorgeous dress accentuating her figure and her blonde hair flowing down her back in waves; you simply shook your head, face stern as you spoke. “I’m not going down that path again, I’m done with his idiocy.” 

“But… what does that have to do with being left unattended?” A smirk curled at the corners of her lipstick stained lips. You glared right back at her. 

“Because, I can’t-” You exhaled heavily through your nose, clearing the nerves from your chest at the mere thought of speaking to him, “If I speak to him, I will just embarrass myself- he, obviously, does not feel the same way as I feel for him.” 

Raven just sighed, visibly sick of you and Erik’s antics. Behind the guise of being best friends; you and Erik had been playing an erratic, immoral game of cat and mouse, each interaction felt like a step closer to admitting your feelings for him, but then, a subsequent step back at the very same time. He was complicated, to say the least, plagued by the traumas of his past and present. Plagued by the responsibility that he wielded upon his shoulders as a powerful mutant, the expectation of moral compassion; and, the sordid reality of his beliefs. 

You supported him, wholeheartedly, every step of the way. Your own chaotic mutant gene infecting your ability to appear as a normal human being; the green at your irises and the vines that intertwine upon your fingertips only causing fear, despite your god-given purpose being to allow growth. Maybe that’s why the two of you had gotten along so well; both of your powers allow you each to manipulate the foundations of the Earth itself- the ability to shift infrastructure and take lives at the merest of thoughts, at the slightest of movements. the hypothetical extent of what you could do rendered you outcasts, even if you had no desire to inflict pain upon others, they awaited with bated breaths until you would do so. 

Whilst Erik had initially viewed his residence within the school as a prison, you had seen it as a safe haven. The lush meadows and ancient trees that adorned the acres of land called to you, allowing for days spent barefoot amongst the reeds, with only birdsong to accompany you. Erik had paid you little mind at first- having only allowed you fleeting glances at dinner, a nod of the head if he agreed with a point, a slither of a smirk when you amused him. But, soon, he let you in; allowed you into the fortress of his conscience, allowed you to peel back the layers of his anger, and understood his desires for vengeance. You had balanced him out, balanced out the choke of his dark turtlenecks with the flow of your hair; balanced out the harshness of his metal with the brush of petal stems upon your fingertips. 

As your friendship had developed naturally, your feelings had followed. Abrasive, corrosive feelings. Soon enough, Erik plagued your every waking thought; his essence identifiable within the flow of the river, within the dust upon the floorboards, within the quiet of your room upon nightfall. 

He was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape. 

You would find him at breakfast in the morning, laughing obnoxiously at Charles; his teeth glinting in the morning light. You would find him in the classrooms, teaching the children their mandatory mutant history lessons; a transfixing performance of great intelligence, his hands enunciating each and every point. You loved watching him teach, perching upon a desk at the back of his room as he interacted with the children, engaging with their conversations whilst simultaneously wielding the ability to hold the students captivated when delivering a lecture. 

But, most importantly, your favourite place to find him was beside you. He would join you at the lakeside most nights, smiling to himself as you conjured flower after flower, allowing them to flow in the wind, the two of you watching as they found a home upon the tranquil waters. It was there, in the dark and the quiet of nightfall, that you had allowed your feelings to bubble at the surface, allowed your inhibitions to loosen as you had turned to him, studied the sharp features of his side profile; he had turned to you too, an eyebrow raised as he blinked, confused. 

“I was wondering..” You began, fiddling with the petals of a flower within your hands, watching as his loose, plaid shirt fluttered in the wind beside you; a change in his wardrobe that you had inflicted, “Charles is hosting a formal dinner next weekend.” 

Erik huffed, smiling at you; though his lip curled confusedly, “I know, I am the co-head of the school; I signed off on the plan.” 

Idiot, you chastised yourself, of course he knew that. Erik had turned towards you entirely now, his head tilted in intrigue as he stared at you, “Oh- yeah, well I was wondering, if you wanted to-”

“I’m not even sure why Charles would want to host such a thing, I mean, just an opportunity for the kids to drink too much and make a mess of the house.” 

“Yeah, well-” 

“And then one of Charles’ assistants asked me to be her date for it and I-” 

You felt it, in that moment, as your heart splintered within your chest; its foundations shattering and leaving you only able to gape in its wake. Coldness entrapped your body as the remaining petals of the flower within your hand shrivelled and wilted; the once luminescent petals forming a pathetic grey upon your palm. You simply nodded, zoning out and pulling yourself away from Erik’s words as he spoke, unable to hear him any further. You needed to distance yourself, distance yourself from him, from your feelings for him. It would be for the better; allow him to pursue whats-her-face without your claws of envy sinking into his shoulder blades, dragging him away from the semblance of happiness that he deserved. 

“I-I’m sorry Erik,” You stuttered, cutting him off suddenly as his speech screeched to a halt, his eyes widening and form freezing as you halted his words, “I need to go.” You wasted no time in bolting upwards, marching towards the distant lights of the house, not sparing him a single glance backwards. 

“Wait, Y/N-” He called, his voice catching in the breeze as he stumbled into pace behind you, “I’m sorry, did I upset you or-” 

“No, Erik, it’s fine.” You turned them, your hair fluttering before your eyes in the breeze as you watched him as he came to a halt, his face stricken, mouth agape as he stared at you, “You should go with Charles assistant, I bet she’s lovely..” You turned again immediately, sighing in relief as the house grew closer.

“No Y/N, I was actually going to ask if-” 

“Erik.” You snapped, turning once again, for the final time. The levity of your voice brought him to an instant pause, shock prevalent upon his features. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, you can go with whoever you want to. You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Oh.” Erik was still, his voice low as he watched you, his brows low and his mouth downturned; he seemed, almost, disappointed. Though, his emotional disparity was not your responsibility anymore, “Well, okay, I will then.”

You nodded, a finality; a shallow smile painted itself upon your features, “Good. I look forward to meeting her.” You didn’t wait to see his reaction, making the final journey to the house before swinging open the door and rushing to your room- where you could comfortably wallow in the drawls of your own heartbreak. 

That had been over a week ago; your initial excitement for the formal had dwindled entirely leaving you staring at yourself bleakly as you fiddled with an earring, Raven had continued to watch you; eyebrows raised and mouth curling with mirth. 

“This is ridiculous, Y/N.”

“Raven! He said himself-”

“No, but,” She paused, collecting herself for a moment before leaning towards you, hands clasped upon her lap, “You haven’t seen him.” 

“Of course, I have-” 

“Okay, When was the last time you saw him?” 

You laughed, eyes tight as you refused to make eye contact with her, “I saw him at breakfast this morning.”

“Sure, when was the last time you spoke to him?” 

Pausing, you cleared your throat, she had caught you there. Your own immaturity dawned upon you as you spoke your confession, embarrassment creating a heave in your chest.  “At the lake, last week.” 

“That’s what I thought- I mean, that man is a brooding asshole on the usual day, but since he supposedly professed his feelings for someone else to you? He’s been miserable, wandering the halls like a kicked puppy; if he’s even capable of resembling that.” 

Shaking your head, you huffed, turning to take a hasty swig from your own glass of preparatory champagne, “Maybe she rejected him after all.” 

“Sure, Y/N-” 

Suddenly, as the brevity of the reality which was Erik bringing another woman to the formal, a wicked realisation dawned upon you. “I need a favour.” You blurted, turning to her abruptly. 

“Okay..’

“You’re bringing Hank, right?” 

She gritted her teeth, a blush tinging her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, “Yes… not in that way though.” 

“I need to borrow him.”

“What-” She looked confused at first, but then something clicked; mirth creasing at her eyes and twisting her lips as she cocked her head at you, “Y/N! You want to make Erik jealous.” 

You shrugged, smirking at her; though the sweat at the back of your neck and legs couldn’t be denied, “I just- want to cover my own back, he can’t think that I’m moping and sad over him and another woman-” 

“But, you are.” 

Only sparing Raven a glare as she chortled, you continued, “I just want to let him see that I have my own date, and that… it could’ve been him. To everyone else, we’ll just be going as friends, but- Erik doesn’t need to know that.” 

Before the danger of your plan could pull your mind to a halt, before it could allow your conscience to screech at its own breaks- Raven was up, crossing the span of the dressing room and pulling the door open; telling a nearby student to find and fetch Hank. The young boy nodded obediently, breaking into a sprint down the hallway. Within minutes, Hank appeared in tow; flushed and breathing heavily as he burst into the corridor, half-dressed in his suit as his tie hung loose around his neck. 

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Hank panted, a hand planted upon the door frame as he surveyed the room; confusion followed within his features as he surveyed the two of you safe and seated comfortably. Only then, did fear truly grace his features; the dread evident within the tightening of his fingers and grit of his teeth, “What’s…going on?” 

“Sorry, Hank, but you will now be attending the dinner with Y/N.” 

“What?” He spat, his tall frame stalking into the room as he ensured the door was securely closed before truly entering the room, “No offence, Y/N, but I don’t understand- do you want me dead?” 

“What?” You gasped in turn, rubbing a hand against your forehead as you shook your head; Raven had nodded, laughing at his fear as she silently agreed, “Why would you die?” 

The ability to do so being somehow possible, Hank’s voice sunk to a hiss, bowing towards the two of you as sweat formed visibly upon his brow, “Have you seen Erik recently? He would kill me.” 

“Exactly,” Jeering, Raven opened the decanter upon the small table between you, pouring Hank a brimming glass of champagne before refilling her own, he took the drink readily once she offered it to him, taking a gusty swallow as his skin steadily grew paler, or even, bluer. “We need to show him what he’s missing out on-” 

“No, no.” Shaking his head hastily, Hank held his hands up before him, slowly backing towards the closed-door; a supposed attempt to make a fast escape, “I am not being a pawn in your fucked up-” 

“Hank.” Raven whined, cocking her head to the side and moving to expose the skin of her leg; pouting at him endearingly- you could only fake heave at her antics. “Please, for me? Once they’ve sorted their mess out-” 

“Hey-!” 

“We can have a dance together.”

Hank froze, the frost that had covered his cheeks instantly warming with the rush of blood as he blushed, his face taking the features of a dazed fawn as he practically melted beneath Raven’s gaze. He soon recovered though, turning towards you and sighing, scratching at the base of his head, “Fine, I will enter with you and we can have a dance, that is it-” 

“Thank you, thank you.” You interrupted him with a rush of skirts and arms flinging around his neck, peppering kisses to his cheek as you squeezed him, “You are my saviour” 

“Okay, okay-” He laughed, holding you at arms length as to protect the ironed linens of his shirt, a genuine smile lining his cheeks, “I need to finish getting ready, but I’ll meet you outside the entrance at quarter past seven.” 

“Quarter past? Hank it starts at seven.” You pursed your lips in confusion as he only grinned at you, a twinkle shining in his eye. 

“Exactly.” He grinned as Raven gasped, breaking into applause beside you, bravoing Hank humorously as you pulled away from him, to which Hank bowed sarcastically, hand before his stomach like a true guardsman. “We need to ensure that he sees Y/N- so, we enter late; put on a little show.” He wiggled his hips as he spoke, grinning at you fake-enticingly; to which you could only fake-vomit, sticking a finger in your mouth and gagging exaggeratedly as Raven laughed beside you. 

Hank departed then, a wave of a hand to you and a cheesy smile at Raven; that is when the plan jumped into action. Raven surged from her lounged position instantly, moving to check you over; your outfit, your hair, the words you would procure upon entering the formal. With a kiss on the cheek and a wink, she left at exactly 6:55; the door slamming behind the trails of her gorgeous dress. 

Thus, leaving you with a harrowing twenty minutes to stew on your decisions. 

Would Erik even care? Or, would he be too occupied with his supposed date? Gazing at the beauty of her dress and the delicacy of her skin instead of your own, honoured that he could serve as her date instead of wishing he could be yours. You forced yourself to break eye contact with your own reflection; disgusted at the pathetic twist of your features as nerves flooded your guts. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head; if anything, Erik would come to the realisation that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore and this sordid affair would end- you would go back to being best friends, you would swallow the bitter taste of rejection and smile through the burning fires of jealousy as he inevitably grew closer with his date for the night. Maybe the two of you would replace each other entirely, after all. 

At exactly 7:10, you left the room; bridled with nerves as you could do nothing but stare at the same features of the room you had been preparing yourself in for hours. Breath in, breath out- the sound of your heels clicking against the empty hallway resounded upon the halls as the inhabitants of the house were located within the main hall- the sound of conversation and light acoustical music a distant mirage. 

As you walked, you surveyed the walls of the buildings you called home- the murals upon the walls and the gorgeous art-pieces that the residents had collected throughout the years lining the walls. In the rotten depths of your mind, you wondered if this would be it- if you would have to leave, unable to sleep only doors down from Erik and the woman he would soon call his lover. The thought of it made you nauseous, made your knees beg to buckle from the strain of exasperated grief. Grief of what could have been if you had just stayed quiet, content; if you could have just been comfortable within the throes of friendship. 

At the end of it all, you missed him. You missed everything about him- his inherent goods and bads. His anger and his joy; his technicolour darks and lights. You missed the sharp lines of his face, the way his hair curled without the harnessing of a pomade, the prickles of the hairs upon his forearms and the curve of amusement within his lips. 

It took everything within you to not detour to the comforts of your bed, to crawl under the covers and hide for the foreseeable- wait for the inevitable to blow over, for Erik to enter your room and laugh at your sad state, just as a friend would; with no romantic-baggage whatsoever. 

However, before your jailbreak attempt could successfully be enacted; Hank emerged from the adjoining hallway, hands in his pocket and a meagre smile upon his face, “Thought I’d meet you here before you decided to run away.” 

Nodding, you sighed; managing a grateful smile his way as he removed his hands from his pockets and offered his arm to you, to which you took it and began to walk towards the hall’s entrance, “I was just working up the courage to do that.” 

Hank laughed, the motion jostling you slightly as you stopped in front of the entrance, the door was closed; the event readily in motion behind it, “We can back out if you want, you can go in now alone and I’ll come down in a few minutes?”

Shaking your head, you tightened your grip upon his elbow; smiling tightly, your voice cracked slightly as you began to speak, the thought of facing Erik and his date alone the most terrifying imagery in that moment, “I can’t go in there alone.” 

Hank turned to you then, concerned evident within the downturn of his mouth, his hands moved to your shoulders; the weight of them comforting as he sighed, “If anything happens I- we will be there, okay?” 

Nodding, you smiled almost-tearfully up at your friend, your lips curling with emotion as he jostled you; attempting to squeeze some semblance of humour from your state. He beckoned you forward then, one hand upon the door handle and the other curling to rest upon the curve of your waste; that is how you greeted the entire room.  

Due to the old-age of the building, the door creaked almost obnoxiously, the sound ostentatious despite the constant hum of the room. Immediately, you made eye contact with Raven; snorting into her glass as she failed to hide her amusement. Then Charles, his hands hanging in mid-air as if he was performing a speech to the group before him; though his face changed during the moment of eye contact, his eyebrows instantly raising and his lips curling into a smile as he looked into your mind, then to the hand upon your waist and finally to a point across the room. 

You followed his gaze, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat as it landed. 

There, stood Erik; the object of all of your desires, and your afflictions. His demeanour differed greatly from the others in the room, his face was blank; impassive as he met your eye; his hair was neatly slicked back and he adorned a clean, striking black suit. Charming. However, his body language told a different story- the grip at which he held his glass was ironclad, his lips were tight and cheeks haggard; an exact juxtaposition to the sharp cut lines of his suit. 

But, as you searched the space beside, behind and above him; the only thing that you could notice was that he was completely alone. 

Stood at the corner of the room, in his gorgeous suit with his exhaust-tinged eyes; he was alone. Not a date, of any shape or size or form, in sight. 

Your mind only allowed a halting, record-scratch oh fuck before you were herded towards the dancefloor- Charles welcoming the ‘happy couple’ to the crowd, sheer amusement threatening to crumple his confident form as he practically tittered. Hank only rolled his eyes, grinning at you amusedly as he tugged you into the entourage that was beginning to form. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile back. Your breath was quickening, panic flooding your chest as you realised that maybe, possibly you had read this whole situation entirely wrong. As you were whisked upon the dancefloor, a drink shoved into your palm and the waltz of fast-paced conversation already hastily beginning- you used every last essence of your will to build a somewhat passable facade, to not crumple in front of the crowd, to not run towards Erik and beg for his forgiveness, for his attention. 

But, oh, you had thought far too soon. Because, after all, you had garnered his attention the moment your heels resounded throughout the shocked quiet of the room. 

As you surveyed the crowd, Hank’s arm an all-encompassing weight upon your waist- you failed to stop your eyes from passing Erik’s form. He remained in that very same spot, as if he belonged nowhere else, as if he was sculpted upon the very walls of the building. His eyes were fixed upon your form; no matter the step, position or pose you took- his eyes never faltered from you, never wandered; even when Charles came to stand beside him, amusement towards his best friend tinted the rise in his cheeks. The two of them began to converse, the topic being of considerable tension; seeing as though Charles continued to look ever-amused, whilst Erik’s eyes finally dropped from yours- his face visibly swelling in anger as he glared at his shoes. 

“-Y/N? Sorry, Y/N?” 

Shocked, you blinked, turning back towards the conversation before you; two older women stared expectantly at you, you dug your mind for any recollection as to who exactly they were- maybe some form of charitable donors? After a series of agonising seconds, to which it felt like the entire room had gone silent; each participant waiting to see what was plaguing your mind, you spoke- smile cringing as you tilted your gaze towards the air just beside the woman, “Sorry, what was-?” 

“We were asking how long you and Professor. McCoy have been together?” Obnoxiously red-lipped woman-potential-rich-donor spoke, her lips stretching grotesquely as she smiled. 

“Oh, well-” 

“We’ve been dating casually for a few months.” 

“What-” 

“Oh, that is wonderful!” The woman spoke, clapping her satin-gloved hands together and bouncing on her heels. 

“Yeah..” Smiling airily, you ensured that oxygen was correctly being executed from your lungs; that you were definitely awake, alive and breathing. 

“It’s been a whirlwind,” Hank smiled, jostling you with the hand gripping your hip, “Between me and you, things are really starting to heat up-” 

Through the excited gasps of the women you realised with abject horror that Charles and Erik were edging towards your circle; Charles leading Erik with a clutch upon his elbow, to which Erik seemed to be fighting unapologetically. 

As if firing the perfect shot, at the perfect time and place, the red-lipped woman squealed at an obscene volume just as Erik entered perfect earshot, “Oh, just imagine, Y/N McCoy. It’s perfect-”

The sound of a glass shattering splintered throughout the room, halting the conversation and what felt like the very air you were breathing. Blood instantly began pouring from Erik’s hand as the surrounding partygoers jumped back in fear, the entire room watching with wide, halted eyes as he shuck the glass from his grip.

“Erik-” Trembling, you swallowed; feeling your heart hammer within your chest as you watched him, the loosening of Hank’s hand pulling and wrenching at the pit within your stomach. You had well and truly done it this time. 

Erik seemed to ignore you, shrugging off the onlookers that attempted to come to his aid; allowing the air beside your head one last scathing glance before he departed from the crowd, from the room entirely. Wasting no time in following him, you dumped your purse and drink into Hank’s arms before breaking into a full sprint; throwing any sense of formality to the wind as you shoved through the crowd whilst simultaneously calling to his retreating back. 

“Erik, please-” You called as you finally emerged from the crowd, the main doors slamming behind you as you stopped before him. His back was turned, feet poised as if ready to retreat, though he had stopped. Droplets of blood resounded against the linoleum, a steady flow of red dribbling from the cuts upon his hands, “Erik, you need to-” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Erik’s tone was demanding, his back clenching as he resolutely refused to turn, to face you. 

“What-”

Finally, he turned; spinning on his polished heel and stalking towards you- face practically carved from stone, his gaze bleeding into yours, “Why didn’t you tell me about you and McCoy?” He practically spat Hank’s name, the name convulsing from his lips. 

Scowling, you straightened your back; standing strong as you grit your teeth at him, “Why would that have been any of your business, Erik?” 

Scoffing, he backed away; scrubbing his non-injured hand upon the stubble upon his jaw, almost in disbelief, “Of course- why would it be?” He laughed sardonically, throwing his hands in the air and shrugging his shoulders. 

“What is your problem?” 

He seemed to still, to quiet; his throat bobbling heavily as his eyes bore into you- eventually, he looked away, lip clutched beneath his teeth, “You know what, nothing-” 

“Okay,” You nodded, feigning deep thought, “Let me rephrase then, why do you care?” 

Erik blinked, almost in disbelief, “Come on Y/N- you know exactly-” 

“-Because last I heard, you had a date for this-” 

“-Who told you that?!” 

“You!” You were shouting now, chest heaving at the patchworked conversation presented before you, “You did, Erik!” 

He was truly in disbelief now, shaking his head and struggling to find the words; eventually he settled for one, insignificant word. He practically drawled it, set up a board and sketched out the word at agonising speed, “What?”

Laughing, mostly to yourself, you gestured towards him, “You told me.” At his silence, you opted to continue speaking, “At the lake, you told me you were going on a date with Charles’ assistant.”

“I never-” Erik groaned, hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed; visibly exhausted, “I know for a fact that I did not say that because-,” He was the one to laugh then, hacking at his chest as he forged his words, “-Because, you interrupted me, left and then haven’t looked at me since!” He seemed to check off the series of events on the fingers of his uninjured hand before waving his clenched fist in your direction, “So, I am assured in the knowledge that I did not say that, because I haven’t spoken to you in two weeks!” 

“Okay, well, I have looked at you-” 

“-No, you haven’t.” 

Slamming your mouth shut, you scowled, crossing your arms petulantly; he simply watched you, the turn of his mouth pulling in its usual smug fashion. “Y/N-” 

“Your hand is covered in blood.”

Smiling, he looked down at it, flexing his fingers before turning his gaze back towards you, “I know.” 

“So who did you come with then?” You shrugged, completely disregarding your worries regarding his hand, “Shouldn’t you be with her instead of-” 

“Y/N, you are completely missing the point… I didn’t come with anyone.” 

“Oh,” You breathed, desperately attempting to hide the relief evident within your exhale, “Why?”

“Because that night at the lake,” He exhaled through his nose; his eyes flitting in between your face and the wall as he breathed, he seemed to be trembling slightly as he conjured the words adjacent to his evidently racing thoughts, “I was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me.”

“Oh.” You repeated dumbly, utterly gobsmacked at his words. 

“But, it’s now evident that McCoy beat me to it, so-” 

“Me and Hank aren’t together.” The words left you in a rush, you knew that your wide eyes mirrored Erik’s own perfectly; shock evident within both of your features. 

“Okay-” 

“I completely jumped to conclusions and I thought you were bringing a date, so I- I didn’t want to show up alone so I borrowed Hank…for the night.” 

“You borrowed Hank.”

“...Yes.” 

Erik suddenly burst into laughter; his face morphing to accustom the sudden change in emotion as he outrightly laughed at you. You could only stand there; slightly offended, slightly relieved at the upbringing of events. 

Erik had wanted to ask you to be his date. 

Did Erik have feelings for you?

“Okay, just to be clear, you weren’t asking me to the dinner as f-” Your words were abruptly cut off as Erik suddenly broke into a stride, marching up to you before placing his hands upon your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours completely, inhaling heavily as if he wanted to ingest you, taste you. You immediately kissed back with the same fervour, intertwining your fingers with the short hair upon his head and accustoming your senses to the scent of blood that was now smeared upon your cheeks. 

Eventually, unfortunately, he pulled away; gazing down at you with hooded eyes. You watched as he bit his tongue, the motion tightening his jaw as he stared down at you, vision unguarded; almost unsure. You knew you looked like something straight out of a horror story, blood smeared upon your cheek and the bridge of your nose- you could only sigh blissfully as he ran his fingers through the mess he had created, spreading it until his finger reached your lips. 

You both stilled; breaths catching in your chests. 

After a long moment, you nodded, your eyes soon fluttering closed as he began to spread the liquid upon your lips- the copper tang of his blood immediately permeating your senses. His eyes were practically drooping now; his irises blown out in pleasure. Keeping your eyes upon his; you gauged his every movement as you sucked his finger into your mouth, effectively cleaning it and your lips of his blood.  You knew in that moment that this was forever; this connection that had been forged between your souls, intertwined at each end and tightened right in the middle. Forged entirely from his very own metal.