#kurt wagner shifting

[shiftingwithmars]

I am determined to find out if Kurt’s tail wags when he’s excited

[sbd-laytall]

A sad Nightcrawler is so heartbreaking.

Excalibur (1988) #20

[cenkillis]

HELP I LOVE THESE CUTIES SO MUCH!! I HOPE NOTHING BAD HAPPENS TO THEM!!

[x-mensirens]

Kurt hides when the X-Men return to public school after being outed

[nightcrawlervs]

WTF Tony! You don't have anything else better to do??

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

They accidentally hurt you (Part.1)

You're accidentally hurt during a moment of loss of control by your powerful partners

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Bobby Drake, Wade Wilson, Warren Worthington III, Jean Grey & Rogue

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

It happened so fast you barely registered the pain. One minute you were training with Logan in the Danger Room, sparring as usual, the two of you enjoying the playful back-and-forth of dodging each other's hits. Logan was holding back, as he always did, but that wild intensity still gleamed in his eyes—a part of him that would never fully shut off. You loved that about him. But then, in a split second, something shifted. His movements were too fast, too fierce. Before you could react, his claws were out, and the sharp edge caught your arm.

You gasped as a searing pain shot through your body, clutching your arm as you stumbled back. Blood dripped down your skin, the deep cut immediately soaking through your sleeve. For a moment, Logan just stood there, wide-eyed, his breath caught in his throat. The claws retracted instantly, and you saw the horror in his face as he processed what he had done.

“Darlin’… oh God, no. I didn’t mean—” His voice was rough, like gravel, choked with disbelief and panic. He was on you in a second, dropping to his knees beside you and gently taking your arm in his hands, careful not to hurt you further. You winced at the touch, but the pain wasn’t what hurt most. It was the look on Logan’s face—like he had broken something irreplaceable between you.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, though your voice was shaky. “It was an accident.”

But Logan wasn’t hearing it. His hands trembled as he held your arm, his head lowered like he was ashamed to even look at you. “I should’ve been more careful. Damn it, Y/N. I never should’ve… I should’ve known better.”

You reached out with your free hand, cupping his rough, scruffy cheek to make him look at you. “Logan, it’s okay. You didn’t mean to. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

But the guilt in his eyes didn’t fade. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into that place he went when he was ashamed of himself, afraid of losing control. But instead, he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if drawing strength from you. “I can’t lose you, Y/N,” he muttered. “I can’t… I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

You smiled softly, despite the throbbing pain in your arm. “You won’t. I’m right here, Logan. Always.”

His eyes opened, and in them, you saw the raw vulnerability that he so rarely let anyone see. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you carefully, protectively. “I’ll fix this,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll make it right.”

And in that moment, as you leaned into his embrace, you knew he would.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

It started as a typical night in the mansion—Remy was showing off as usual, flicking cards across the room with that charming grin of his, teasing you with sly winks. You sat on the couch, amused but unimpressed, knowing his routine far too well by now. But you loved watching him in his element, loved the way his eyes lit up with that mischievous energy whenever he was around you. It was intoxicating.

“Y’know, chérie, if you keep lookin’ at me like that, I might have to take you out for another round of cards.” His voice dripped with playful flirtation as he tossed another charged card into the air.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back on the couch. “Remy, you know I always beat you.”

He laughed, and in that moment, he flicked his wrist to toss another card—except this time, something went wrong. Maybe he misjudged the charge, or maybe it was just bad luck, but the card shot towards you too fast, too charged, and before you could react, it exploded with a small burst of kinetic energy right in front of you.

The force knocked you off the couch, sending you tumbling onto the floor with a sharp yelp of pain. Your arm burned where the blast had hit, and you groaned as you tried to sit up, clutching the now-aching limb.

“Y/N!” Remy’s voice was filled with panic as he rushed to your side, dropping to his knees beside you. His hands hovered over you, unsure where to touch, as if he was afraid of hurting you more. “Chérie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—God, I didn’t mean to do that.”

You winced, blinking back tears as you pressed a hand to your arm. “It’s okay, Remy… just a little burn. I’ll live.”

But Remy wasn’t having any of it. His normally cocky expression was gone, replaced with genuine worry as he gently helped you sit up. “Let me see,” he said softly, carefully pulling your hand away from the burn on your arm. His fingers were gentle as they inspected the damage, his eyes dark with regret. “Merde, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’d never hurt you, you know that, right?”

You nodded, offering him a small smile despite the pain. “I know. It was an accident.”

But he still looked haunted, his jaw tight as he gingerly cradled your arm. “Still… I should’ve been more careful. Should’ve been payin’ more attention.”

You placed your other hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. “Remy, really, I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping with relief, though the guilt still lingered in his eyes. “I don’t deserve you, chérie,” he muttered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re too good to me.”

You chuckled, wincing slightly at the movement. “You better believe it.”

But even as you tried to make light of it, Remy’s hands never left your skin, as if he needed to feel that you were still there, still with him. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what, he would always be there to protect you—even from himself.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

You had always loved watching Kurt move—the way he seemed to dance across the air, teleporting with ease, his body a blur of grace and power. You were training together, and though you weren’t nearly as agile as him, you tried your best to keep up, determined to prove that you could hold your own.

But then, in a blink, Kurt disappeared—teleporting just out of your reach as you swung your fist. You spun around, ready to block him when he reappeared, but you miscalculated, and before you could react, his tail whipped out, striking you in the ribs with more force than he intended.

The air was knocked out of you, and you stumbled back, clutching your side as pain radiated through your body. You gasped for breath, wincing as you sank to the ground, your chest heaving.

“Y/N!” Kurt’s voice was frantic, and in an instant, he was kneeling beside you, his golden eyes wide with panic. “Oh mein Gott, I didn’t mean—are you hurt?”

You couldn’t speak for a moment, too focused on catching your breath, but when you finally looked up at him, you saw the sheer horror on his face. He reached out, his hand trembling as he gently touched your side, where his tail had struck you. “I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful.”

You tried to smile, though the pain made it difficult. “It’s okay, Kurt. You didn’t mean to.”

His brow furrowed, his eyes filled with guilt as he gently helped you sit up. “I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as you caught your breath. “I know. It was an accident. I’ll be fine.”

But Kurt shook his head, his tail curling around your waist in a protective gesture. “I should have been more gentle. I forget how strong I am sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, wincing at the pain in your ribs. “I think you forget that you’re not the only one with superpowers.”

He smiled weakly, his hand cupping your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Ja, but I’m supposed to protect you. Not hurt you.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “You do protect me. Every day.”

Kurt’s golden eyes softened, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I will never let anything happen to you, Y/N. I swear it.”

And as you rested in his embrace, the pain in your ribs forgotten for the moment, you knew that no matter what, Kurt would always be there for you—his love for you stronger than any force in the world.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

The sun had just started to set, casting an orange glow across the grounds of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You and Scott were outside, sparring as part of your usual training routine. Scott was always serious when it came to training, which you both admired and found frustrating at times. He had such control over his abilities, never letting his optic blasts get out of hand—except today, something was off. He was more intense than usual, perhaps trying to push you to your limits, or maybe his mind was somewhere else.

You dodged a series of his blasts, your body fluid and graceful as you maneuvered across the field. You were teasing him lightly, enjoying the way his focus made him that much more determined. “Come on, Summers, is that all you’ve got?” you called out, your smile playful, though your heart raced with the thrill of the challenge.

Scott’s jaw clenched in response, his visor glowing red as he prepared to shoot another blast. You saw the energy build in his eyes, felt the air shift around you. But something went wrong. The blast was too powerful, larger than any you’d seen him use in training, and before you could react, the beam struck you hard in the chest, sending you flying backward across the field.

The pain hit you instantly, searing through your body as you hit the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of you. You gasped, clutching your chest, the world spinning around you as you tried to process what had just happened. You could barely breathe, the shock and pain overwhelming your senses.

“Y/N!” Scott’s voice was filled with panic, and within moments, he was by your side, falling to his knees as he reached for you. His visor dimmed as he tried to assess the damage, his hands hovering over your body, afraid to touch you in case he hurt you more. “I’m so sorry, I—God, I didn’t mean to. Are you okay?”

You tried to respond, but the words caught in your throat, a sharp pain running through your chest with every breath. Scott’s eyes were wild with fear behind his visor, his face pale as he gently touched your arm, his fingers trembling.

“I lost control,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You managed to shake your head, your breathing shallow as you tried to reassure him. “I know… it was an accident, Scott.”

But Scott wasn’t listening. His hands moved to your shoulders, carefully pulling you into his arms, cradling you as if you were made of glass. “I should have been more careful. I should have… I could have killed you.”

Tears stung at your eyes, both from the pain and from seeing him like this—so afraid, so broken. You reached up, placing a hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingers. “I’m okay,” you whispered, though the words came out weak. “I’m okay, Scott.”

But he shook his head, his grip on you tightening slightly as if he was afraid you would slip away from him. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t… I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

You smiled weakly, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. “You won’t. I’m still here.”

And as he held you close, his heart pounding with fear and love, you knew that Scott would never forgive himself for this, even though you already had. He would spend the rest of his life making sure you were safe, even if it meant holding back from the one thing he feared the most—losing control.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

The battlefield was chaos, metal flying through the air as Erik used his powers to dismantle the enemy’s weapons, tearing through their defenses with a fury that left you breathless. You fought alongside him, your movements sharp and precise as you took down opponent after opponent, the two of you moving like a well-oiled machine. But in the midst of the battle, something went wrong—something that neither of you saw coming.

Erik was focused, his hands outstretched as he bent the metal around him to his will. You were too close, though, too caught up in the fight to notice how close you had drifted to his range of control. Suddenly, a piece of sharp metal flew toward you, faster than you could react. It struck you in the side, tearing through your skin with a force that knocked you to the ground.

The pain was immediate, white-hot and searing through your body as you gasped for air, clutching your side where blood had already begun to pool. You tried to move, but the pain was too much, your vision blurring as you struggled to stay conscious.

“Y/N!” Erik’s voice cut through the noise of battle, filled with a panic you had never heard from him before. In an instant, the metal around you dropped to the ground as he rushed to your side, falling to his knees beside you. His hands hovered over the wound, his face pale as he tried to assess the damage. “Oh, no… no, no, no. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t see you.”

You groaned, the pain making it hard to focus as you looked up at him, his face twisted with guilt and fear. “Erik… I’m fine,” you managed to choke out, though you knew it wasn’t true.

He shook his head, his hands pressing down gently on the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. “This is my fault,” he muttered, his voice thick with self-loathing. “I should have been more careful. I never should have let you get this close.”

You winced, reaching up to touch his face, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “Erik… it was an accident.”

But he wasn’t hearing you. His eyes were dark with regret, his jaw clenched as he tried to control the rising panic in his chest. “No,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should have protected you.”

Tears stung at your eyes as you watched him, the man who had always been so strong, so sure of himself, now broken and afraid. You could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of losing you, of not being able to save you this time. “You did,” you whispered, your voice weak. “You always do.”

He shook his head again, his hands trembling as he continued to press against the wound, his heart pounding in his chest. “I won’t let you die,” he muttered, his voice filled with a desperation you had never heard from him before. “I won’t.”

And as you lay there in his arms, the pain slowly fading away as darkness crept in at the edges of your vision, you knew that Erik would move heaven and earth to save you. But in that moment, all you could do was hold onto him, knowing that no matter what happened, you were loved.

Bobby Drake (Iceman)

You and Bobby had always been a team, whether it was on the battlefield or just in life. His easygoing nature balanced out your more serious demeanor, and together, you were unstoppable. Today was no different—you were fighting alongside the X-Men, taking down the latest threat to mutantkind with the precision of a well-practiced team.

But in the heat of battle, accidents happen. Bobby had just formed an ice slide, using it to send an opponent flying across the battlefield when he lost control for just a split second. The slide shifted, sending a sharp shard of ice flying toward you. You didn’t see it coming until it was too late.

The ice struck your leg, cutting deep into the muscle and sending you crashing to the ground with a cry of pain. The cold immediately numbed the area, but the pain was still there, sharp and unrelenting as you clutched your leg, trying to stop the bleeding.

Bobby’s heart stopped the moment he saw you fall. “Y/N!” He was at your side in an instant, his face pale with shock and guilt. His hands hovered over the wound, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “I didn’t—God, I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

You winced, trying to push through the pain as you looked up at him. “Bobby, it’s okay… just an accident.”

But Bobby wasn’t listening. His hands were shaking as he tried to freeze the wound, slowing the bleeding with his powers. “I should’ve been more careful,” he muttered, his voice thick with guilt. “I should’ve been paying more attention.”

You groaned, your leg throbbing as the ice numbed the pain. “Bobby, it’s fine. It’s not that bad.”

But Bobby wasn’t convinced. His blue eyes were filled with fear as he carefully wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the ground with ease. “I’m taking you back to the mansion,” he said firmly, his voice trembling slightly. “We’re getting you patched up.”

You didn’t argue, the pain too much for you to resist as you leaned into his embrace. “Okay,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest as he carried you away from the battlefield.

And as you drifted in and out of consciousness, you could feel the guilt radiating off of him, the fear that he had hurt you, even though you knew it was an accident. But in that moment, all you could do was hold onto him, knowing that no matter what happened, Bobby would always be there to protect you.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

You’ve always known that being with Wade came with a certain level of risk. Sure, he was fun, witty, and had a charm that kept you laughing no matter what—but he was also chaotic, reckless, and had an unhealthy obsession with danger. You loved him for all of it. Even the crazy stunts that had your heart in your throat. But this time… things went too far.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Wade had assured you of that when he convinced you to join him. “Come on, babe, it’ll be a piece of cake,” he’d said with a grin. “Just a few bad guys, a few guns, and then we’re out. Easy peasy!”

Of course, nothing with Wade is ever “easy peasy.”

You were both knee-deep in a firefight, bullets flying around you as Wade expertly sliced through enemies with his katanas, making sarcastic comments with every swing. You were holding your own, taking down attackers with precision, trusting Wade to watch your back like always. But as the fight escalated, so did Wade’s recklessness.

He was laughing, spinning through the air with a grenade in hand, yelling something about “making it rain” before tossing it toward a group of enemies. Except… it wasn’t just the enemies in the blast radius.

You saw the grenade land just a few feet away from where you were crouched behind cover. Time seemed to slow as realization hit. The explosion was deafening, the force of it sending you flying backward, crashing hard into the concrete wall behind you. Pain exploded through your body, a sharp, burning sensation spreading from your side where the shrapnel had torn through your skin.

The world around you blurred, the sounds of battle fading as you gasped for breath, clutching your side as blood seeped between your fingers. You could barely move, your limbs heavy, the pain overwhelming every sense.

“Y/N!” Wade’s voice cut through the haze, suddenly filled with panic. Within seconds, he was kneeling beside you, his usual carefree attitude gone, replaced with genuine fear. His hands hovered over you, shaking as he tried to figure out what to do. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit… babe, I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—”

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come, your chest tightening with every breath. Wade’s face twisted with guilt and fear, his mask pushed up just enough to reveal the raw emotion on his face. He pressed his hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but he was shaking too much to be effective.

“Don’t you die on me, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “Don’t you dare. I swear I’ll kill everyone here if you—if you don’t…”

You reached up, managing to brush your fingers against his cheek. “Wade…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It’s okay…”

“It’s not okay!” Wade shouted, his voice cracking. “I—God, I’m such an idiot! I should’ve been more careful! I never should’ve—”

Tears stung your eyes as you watched him, the man who never took anything seriously, now completely falling apart because of you. You knew he blamed himself, even though you didn’t. It was an accident, a risk that came with being with someone like him. But seeing him like this, so afraid of losing you, broke your heart.

“I’m sorry,” Wade whispered, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You squeezed his hand weakly, managing a small smile through the pain. “I’m still here, Wade.”

And as the world around you faded into darkness, you held onto that small bit of reassurance—that no matter how reckless he was, Wade Wilson loved you more than anything. And he’d fight to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

Flying with Warren had always been one of your favorite things. There was something freeing about soaring through the sky with him, the wind rushing through your hair as you clung to his warm, muscular frame. His wings, beautiful and powerful, were like an extension of him—graceful, protective, and strong.

You trusted Warren implicitly. He’d never let you fall before, always keeping you close to him when you flew together. But today, something went wrong. It was supposed to be just another evening flight, the two of you escaping the chaos of the world below to find solace in the clouds. You had no idea it would end the way it did.

You were high up, the city below you nothing more than a blur of lights. Warren held you close as he flew, his arms wrapped around you, his wings beating rhythmically as you both enjoyed the peaceful moment. But suddenly, there was a shift in the air, and Warren’s hold on you loosened.

You gasped as you felt yourself slip from his grasp, your heart lurching in your chest as you plummeted toward the ground below. The wind roared in your ears, and for a split second, you thought this was it—that you were going to die.

But then Warren was there, his arms catching you just before you hit the ground, his wings flaring out as he desperately tried to slow your fall. You hit the ground hard, pain exploding through your body as you landed awkwardly on your side, your breath knocked out of you. The world spun around you as you groaned in pain, clutching your ribs where the impact had been the worst.

“Y/N!” Warren’s voice was filled with panic as he knelt beside you, his wings folding back as he reached for you. His hands hovered over you, unsure of where to touch without hurting you more. “Oh God, I—are you okay? I didn’t mean to… I lost my grip, I… I’m so sorry.”

You winced, trying to breathe through the pain, but each breath was a struggle. “Warren… I’m okay,” you managed to choke out, though the pain said otherwise.

Warren’s face twisted with guilt, his usually calm and composed demeanor shattered as he looked at you. “No, you’re not,” he muttered, his voice thick with self-loathing. “I should’ve been more careful. I never should’ve… I almost…”

Tears stung at your eyes as you watched him, the man who always seemed so invincible, now broken and afraid because of what he’d done. You knew he blamed himself, even though you didn’t. It was an accident, something that could’ve happened to anyone. But seeing him like this—so shaken, so vulnerable—made your heart ache.

“I’ve got you,” Warren whispered, his voice trembling as he carefully pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. “I’m not letting go again. I swear.”

You leaned into him, your body aching but your heart full as you listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath you. “I know,” you whispered, closing your eyes as the pain slowly began to fade. “I trust you, Warren.”

And as he held you close, his wings wrapping around you protectively, you knew that no matter what happened, Warren would never let anything hurt you again. Not even himself.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

Being with Jean was like being wrapped in warmth and light, the love you shared radiating between you in ways that went beyond the physical. Her telepathy meant that she always knew what you were thinking, what you were feeling, and that connection made your bond stronger than you ever thought possible.

But sometimes, her powers were unpredictable. Sometimes, when her emotions got the best of her, things would slip.

It had been a stressful day for Jean. The team had just come back from a difficult mission, and you could feel the weight of it bearing down on her. You tried to comfort her, to be there for her like you always were, but Jean was lost in her own head, overwhelmed by the flood of thoughts and emotions around her.

"Jean," you called softly, stepping closer to her as she stood in the center of the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Talk to me."

She didn't respond at first, her eyes closed as she tried to quiet the noise in her mind. You could feel the tension rolling off of her in waves, and you knew something was wrong. Before you could say anything else, though, Jean's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly with the power of the Phoenix that lived within her.

"Y/N, I—" she started, her voice shaking, but before she could finish, a surge of telekinetic energy burst from her, slamming into you without warning.

The force sent you flying across the room, your body colliding hard with the wall before crumpling to the floor. Pain shot through your spine as you gasped for breath, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. Your vision blurred for a moment, the edges darkening as you fought to stay conscious.

"Y/N!" Jean's voice was filled with horror as she rushed to your side, her telekinetic powers immediately pulling you into her arms before you could fall any further. "Oh God, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—"

You groaned, clutching your side where the pain was the worst, but you forced yourself to look up at her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and brimming with tears, her hands trembling as she held you.

"Jean…" you whispered, your voice weak as the pain pulsed through you. "It's… it's okay."

She shook her head violently, tears spilling down her cheeks. "No, it's not! I hurt you! I—my powers—I lost control and—" Her voice cracked as she choked back a sob, her grip tightening around you. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to…"

You reached up, brushing your fingers against her cheek. "I know. I know you didn’t mean to."

Jean closed her eyes, her tears falling onto your skin as she leaned into your touch. "I can’t… I can’t lose control like that," she whispered. "I can't risk hurting you. I love you too much…"

You smiled weakly, your thumb gently wiping away her tears. "Jean, I trust you. You’re the strongest person I know. And I know you’d never hurt me on purpose."

She opened her eyes, looking down at you with so much love and pain in her gaze that it made your heart ache. "I’m scared," she admitted, her voice trembling. "What if I can’t control it next time? What if the Phoenix—"

You shook your head, cutting her off. "We’ll figure it out. Together. You don’t have to do this alone, Jean."

Jean let out a shaky breath, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she held you close, her forehead resting against yours. "Thank you," she whispered. "I don’t deserve you."

You smiled, your hand resting against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath your palm. "Yes, you do. You always have."

Rogue (Anna Marie)

Loving Rogue was like holding a flame in your hands—beautiful, intense, and dangerous. But you had never feared her. Not once. Despite her worries about her powers, despite the distance she tried to put between you for your own safety, you had never doubted that you could make this work. You loved her, and she loved you, and that was all that mattered.

Still, Rogue was always afraid that one day, her powers would get out of control. And today, her fear became reality.

You were in the training room, helping her practice her control, something you did often. It wasn’t an official Danger Room session, just the two of you. Rogue had been getting better, learning to control her skin’s power-draining abilities, learning to hold back. But it was still a work in progress.

You’d been sparring, teasing each other with light-hearted jabs, when it happened. Her glove slipped during a fast block, and her bare hand grazed your wrist.

The sensation was instant. You felt the strength drain from your body, your energy slipping away like water through your fingers. Your knees buckled, and you crumpled to the floor, your vision darkening around the edges. You could hear Rogue’s panicked voice, but it was distant, muffled.

“Y/N!” Her voice cracked as she rushed to your side, pulling her gloves back on with trembling hands. “Oh God, oh God, Ah didn’t mean to! Please, wake up, sugah, please!”

You blinked, the world coming back into focus as the wave of exhaustion began to fade. Rogue knelt beside you, her hands hovering over you but not touching, her green eyes wide with terror.

“Ah hurt ya,” she whispered, her accent thicker than usual, her voice trembling. “Ah didn’t mean to, Ah swear! Ah was bein’ careful, Ah—”

“Rogue…” you croaked, reaching up weakly to grab her wrist. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “No, it’s not okay! Ah coulda killed ya. Ah almost did!”

You struggled to sit up, and Rogue immediately helped you, her hands steady but her eyes full of guilt. “You didn’t,” you said softly. “You didn’t, and that’s what matters.”

Rogue’s lower lip trembled as she looked at you, her usually strong demeanor cracking. “Ah can’t keep riskin’ your life like this. Ah can’t control it, and Ah don’t want to hurt ya again.”

You cupped her cheek, your thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re not going to lose me, Rogue. I’m not afraid of you.”

Her breath hitched, and she leaned into your touch, closing her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek. “Ah love ya too much to lose ya.”

“And I love you too much to leave,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to hers. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

[bamfkeeper]

Red...?

RQ: 'Hello! I adored you Dad!Nightcrawler story! And wanted to know if you could make this possible headcanon since it seemed funny. So Kurt's parents are Azazel&Mystique so what if his kid gets traits/mutations from them? (Like it skipped a gen) Like red skin from Azazel or Mystiques abilities/scales. It may be humorous to see/for Kurt to handle' -@aphrodite4lover

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x F!Reader // Warnings: None I think lol.

A/N: I love this, actually. I know his parents were re-written as Mystique & Destiny, but for the sake of this, Kurt's parents are originally Azazel & Mystique. Yes ofc here's some hcs. Added a few things to make it interesting. Also I know that's a red bamf not a baby just pretend it is okay 😭

When your little one came out you were both surprised to see that they weren't blue like expected...but red.

As you held your little one, you were a bit confused, of course. You looked at the red infant, their little body soft but lacking Kurt's fuzz and instead had carefully placed soft scales. They adorned the baby's shoulders and upper arms, cheeks, a little on the forehead, down the spine and shoulder blades, and of course the thighs.

The signature spaded tail was there, and the baby did have three digits like Kurt, but nothing else resembled him at all.

You loved your baby, but you were just a little worried. Kurt wasn't sure what to think either. He knew you hadn't cheated, heavens no. Plus...mutations are random.

Azazel would have a field day if he heard that Kurt's child ended up red instead of blue. The asshole might even make a comment about mating you but...that's a whole other scenario.

The baby always favored you too, which he sort of understood since you were the mother, but your child always cried and he could never soothe them. "Ach, bitte....calm down, you have food and you are clean...why do you cry?" he tries to hard, rocking, bouncing, cradling.

He gets a little jealous when your baby calms instantly when in your arms. "They do not like me, liebling..." he frowns and pouts.

As your little baby grew, they proved themselves to be a little devil indeed. Kurt felt himself being run rampant, the toddler ran after him and Kurt could barely keep up. Your child was slippery and extremely cunning for a toddler.

Kurt tried to help them teleport, assuming your child inherited his mutant ability, but as they watched him disappear and reappear, they instead shifted from a red toddler to a blue one, taking on Kurt's appearance if he were a toddler again.

So...great. No teleporting, red skin, and his mother's ability?

He wasn't upset, just...very surprised. His shock made your baby laugh, giggling in amusement as they continued to shift into different appearances.

Not only people, but they could also shift into animals.

The baby did inherit his wall-crawling. You often found them hanging out on the ceiling, hanging from it and chasing each other around on the walls.

You felt a little insecure or worried, thinking Kurt might have some resentment towards you, even though you had zero control over the development and outcome of your child's mutation. Kurt could tell you felt bad, and he always reassured you.

"Mutations are so strange, liebe...please do not fret. I love unser Kind...they certainly were a chock when they came into the world." he teased lightly, kissing your cheek.

Your child was just as mischevious and troublesome during their teenage years. Very rebellious and the complete opposite of Kurt. It was rather entertaining, the two literally opposites in appearance and interests.

Your child took on a lot of bad habits, displaying both Mystique and Azazel's personality more than your own or Kurt's. It was hard to deal with at first, but you figured they were just trying to find themselves.

Your child struggled with identity, (take with that what you will it can be implied with whatever you like!), the shapeshifting and everything else was hard on them. Also the fact that they looked nothing like either of you made it hard. They felt like a red black sheep, and their behavior was just them trying to deal with it.

After you both sat down and spoke to them, you got to the bottom of why. It was an emotional night for you, Kurt, and your child, but it ended in tearful hugs and many 'I love you's.'

Kurt loves your child no matter what they look like and who they decide to me. They will always come home to you and Kurt.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Image: Amazing X-Men (2014) #1

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

Cute little Bamf

Kurt Wagner x fem!AFAB!reader Words: 1.3K Summary: Kurt is absolutely smitten by his little daughter. A/N: I used a gif of Alan Cummings Nightcrawler, however it works coompletely fine with any Nightcrawler, really.

As gently as he could, Kurt brushed a strand of hair from her face that was stuck to her forehead and smiled slightly as he looked down at her sleeping form. She looked exhausted, which she was, and her hair was messy with sweat, but he was glad to see that some colour had returned to her cheeks.

Lightly, so as not to wake her, he ran his hand over her cheek. No matter how exhausted she might look, for Kurt his wife was the most beautiful woman on earth, an angel sent by God. His attention briefly shifted to the small bed beside hers, and a surge of emotion washed over him. Here lay not just his beloved wife, but also the embodiment of their love—a pure, innocent soul they had brought into this world together.

When she had first brought up the subject of children a few months after their wedding, he had been sceptical, unsure.

On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to have a family with the person he loved above all else, a testimony to their love.

On the other hand, he didn't know if she was aware of the full consequences. She was human, not mutant, and so far there had hardly been any offspring between mutants and non-mutants, especially not with mutants, whose physical appearance was so different. Kurt himself had taken a long time to come to terms with his outward appearance, and the thought of a child, his child, having to go through the same problems because of him didn't sit well with him.

She had shown remarkable patience and understanding, gently nudging him towards their shared dream of parenthood with unwavering reassurance. Never once did she pressure him, always respecting his hesitations and doubts. She made it clear that if he truly didn't want children, she wouldn't press the issue further. After two years of marriage, their mutual longing for a family outweighed his reservations. The journey to parenthood had been arduous, with Kurt feeling torn between his desire to fulfill his wife's wishes and his fear of the unknown.

He watched as his wife endured the challenges of pregnancy with strength and grace, feeling powerless to ease her burdens.

The birth itself had been a taxing ordeal, yet, in that moment when their daughter was placed in her mother's arms for the first time, any traces of pain or exhaustion vanished.

Their daughter.

Kurt's gaze shifted to the small cot beside his wife's hospital bed, ensuring she remained peacefully asleep before gently disentangling his hand from hers. With cautious steps, he approached the cot, his heart swelling with emotion at the sight before him.

She was perfect and the sight of her alone was enough to bring tears to his eyes again. When she had placed her little girl in his arms for the first time, he had been unable to stop the tears and had silently sent prayers of thanks to heaven.

In that sacred moment, he had made vows to cherish and protect this precious gift with all his being. And as he beheld his little Rachel, he felt a profound sense of responsibility and love wash over him, promising to fulfill his role as her father with unwavering devotion until the end of his day.

His wife had suggested the name because, on the one hand, it was a biblical name to honour Kurt's faith, but at the same time it was a normal name in both German and English, albeit pronounced and spelled differently.

Kurt would have married her again at that moment if he had been able to.

Rachel slumbered peacefully, mirroring her mother's deep rest, granting Kurt the opportunity to kneel beside her bed, captivated by her presence. As he observed her features, a mix of his own and his wife's, he marveled at the unique blend they had created. Though she inherited many of his distinct characteristics, they were softened by her mother's genetic influence.

Her complexion, not as deeply indigo as his own, resembled a more fainter blue, while her hair cascaded in a shade darker than his signature black-blue hue. Her eyes, previously open wide and full of curiosity, gleamed gold, not as intense as his, with larger pupils than he possessed.

She had one more digit on each hand and foot than he did, but they were just as long and slender as his. And while her body lacked the fur that adorned his own, the presence of a small tail with its distinctive spade-like tip unmistakably marked her as his.

Kurt felt a surge of gratitude that his wife had agreed to give birth at the Institute, recognizing that their daughter's unique appearance might have drawn unwanted attention in a non-mutant hospital. Just like her father.

Kurt lost track of time as he sat there, mesmerized by his daughter's stirring movements. When she finally awoke, her tiny face contorted in a mixture of confusion and discomfort, he swiftly rose to his feet. As she began to emit soft, plaintive sounds, Kurt instinctively hushed her with a gentle shushing noise.

"Shhh," he murmured softly, scooping her into his arms with a tenderness born of love and instinct. "Beruhige dich, mein Liebling. Sonst wecken wir Mama." He knew she couldn't understand his words, but the soothing tone seemed to have a calming effect on her. Her cries quieted as he rocked her gently, his movements lulling her into a peaceful state. Instead, she looked at him curiously out of her large, golden eyes while her tail whipped lazily through the air.

A tender smile graced Kurt's lips as he gently nudged Rachel with the tip of his tail, ensuring not to cause her any discomfort.

To his delight, she responded by wrapping her own tail around his, emitting soft sounds that tugged at his heartstrings. Kurt continued to rock her gently, minimizing any noise that might disturb her fragile peace.

In his arms, Rachel seemed impossibly small and delicate, igniting a fierce protective instinct within Kurt. The overwhelming urge to shield her from harm, to safeguard her against any obstacle that dared cross her path, surged through him like a tidal wave. It was a primal instinct, a father's love in its purest form, driving him to do whatever it took to ensure her safety and happiness.

He didn't know whether this thought should frighten him or whether he was justified as a father after all, so he pushed the thoughts aside.

A soft rustle drew Kurt's attention, and he turned to see his wife awake, her gaze filled with warmth and affection. Despite the traces of fatigue, a broad smile graced her lips as she looked upon them. Kurt hurried to her side, Rachel cradled in his arms, concern evident in his voice. "Did we wake you, Liebling? I'm sorry-"

He glanced towards the bedcovers, but his wife reached out for his hand, squeezing it lightly. "Don't be," she reassured him, her tone gentle. "I had the pleasure of waking up to this beautiful view." Kurt smiled slightly and turned in a sitting position so that she could look down at their daughter as well.

Kurt's wife continued to stroke Rachel's forehead tenderly, drawing out a few indistinct sounds from the baby. As Rachel's tail tightened around his own, Kurt let out a yelp of surprise, a sharp twinge of pain shooting through him. His wife couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, the sound filled with affectionate amusement.

"Headstrong and cheeky like her Papa," his wife remarked, affection lacing her words. "And she looks like him too. If I hadn't given birth to her, I wouldn't even know if she was my child."

Kurt pressed a tender kiss to his wife's forehead before leaning against her, his tail finding its place around her hip. "Maybe at first glance. But she looks more like you than you realise," he murmured, his gaze drifting back to Rachel, who was lazily lashing her tail and blinking her eyes, yawning softly.

"To be honest, I don't care what she looks like," she whispered, her voice barely audible as they watched their daughter drift off to sleep. "She's our daughter. She's perfect." Kurt looked down at the little blue bundle - now asleep again - in his arms and smiled slightly.

" Indeed she is.“

[writingoddess1125]

1999 Pt 6

Kurt Wagner x Fem Reader

Some Angst, Sad Topics, Mild Domestic Violence

Reader has Empath abilities and can feel others emotions, her mind can not be read either, and if she touches someone she can make them feel what feel what she feels.

Marvel Masterlist <<

Kofi

(Y/N) stood in her kitchen angrily chopping down on some vegetables. Her lips a thin tight line as she minced some onion like it had wronged her.

It had been a shit show to say the least.

Kurt's little stunt of immediately outing himself as Milo and Leon's father had turned her livingroom into what could only be described as a emotional battle ground... that turned into a physical one.

Sure the first few seconds may have been silently as it felt like a vacuum had sucked out all the air in the room.

It was then that Milo had been the first to take action breaking the still room, rolling up from his seat next to (Y/N) as he smoothed out invisible imperfections in his clothes like he was a professional. His face like stone making it unreadable as he looked to all the adults in the room and wished them a good evening, going as far as to shake Xaviers hand. His emotions which had been a rolling tirade seemed to have just shut off at the sight of Kurt-

Poor Xavier normally a rational man seemed just as surprised as he shook Milo's hand silently as the teen left the livingroom, shifting to his humanoid form and walking out of the house silently, the poor Professor hand still hanging in the air were Milo had left it.

(Y/N), Xavier, Jean, Logan and Kurt staring at the front door where Milo had just left- Before the adults eyes all shifted to Leon who was still standing there- His eyes staring at Kurt still as he seemed to be shaking a bit, so many emotions going across his face that it was overwhelming...

(Y/N) Just starting to come out of her own shock tried to reach out to her remaining son, but when her fingers touched him he recoiled like she had burned him, his eyes starting to shimmer with tears.

Stepping back once, then again as if they would all attack him if he moved too fast... Before his tail tucked between his legs, and he Bamf away in a second.

...

This lead to (Y/N) doing the first thing that came to her mind..

Throwing the nearest thing at Kurt- Aka a Table Lamp.

And try to jump over the coffee table to strangle the blue elf who had been dazed by the lamp...

Of course having several X-Men with two of the most powerful telepaths probably on earth it was fairly quick to get the now screaming women down- Kurt having not reacted fast enough to the lamp being thrown trying to recover as Jean and Xavier tried to get her calm. Logan knowing when it was a queue to leave- Helping Kurt up and out of the house.

It had been a bit of a blur after that, from the emotional unleash that (Y/N) displayed- To Jean also crying and asking for forgiveness in the part she played in this cluster fuck. Then (Y/N) kicking the two telepaths put of her home- Xavier apologizing of course and trying to ease the tension as he escorted Jean out of the home to leave (Y/N) to her own devices.

And now she was in the kitchen angrily cooking away, in her kitchen. Her mind racing with what part of her life she needed to deal with first.

Her Past coming back like a giant blue pimple on her ass- Her son's who had disapeared and possibly hate her? Or the own heart break that seemed to rear its ugly head again everytime she looked at the blue pimple asshole fucker fuck fuck!!..

She didn't know why cooking was what she decided would ease her brain- Most would think screaming, crying, stoically staring at a wall.. but nope- Chopping vegetables seemed to be it.

In the background the soft sound of a door opening and closing, and heavy steps coming towards her. Hearing the soft sound of padded feet hitting lamonated tile (Y/N) didn't need to look to know who it was- Kurt standing next to her awkwardly as he held a bag of frozen vegetables to his head were the lamp had oh so gracefully connected.

"...I... wish to apologize.. again" Kurt said softly, setting a box of beer on the counter not far from were she was cutting the vegetables-

It was definitely a risk to bring alcohol to a very angry Ex with a knife- However Kurt at this point didn't know what else to do... he felt like if he brought flowers (Y/N) may shove them in a place he really didn't want-

(Y/N) paused her actions taking a deep breath, setting the knife down and grabbed a can of beer which she silently opened, taking a sip of as Kurt grabbed one as well doing the same for his own drink.

Both adults now drinking beer in a partly destroyed house. Kurt couldn't help but be at least mildly impressed- She'd defiently caught him by surprise.

"...I threw a lamp at you"

(Y/N) finally said, seemingly finally coming to terms with the last few hours.

"Ja.. You did"

The two of them stood in silence again, Kurt pulling the homemade ice pack away and setting it next to him.

"I shouldn't have done.. many thing- Showing myself... leaving you... it was.. unfair to you" Kurt mumbled, glancing to (Y/N) as he watched her sip her beer once more, her face fairly unreadable.

"Yeah... I'm sorry for the Lamp-"

Kurt couldn't help but chuckle at this, for some reason finding it a bit funny. Even (Y/N) cracked a slight smile at this as she looked down at her beer can and nodded silently.

Silence again..

"Do you.. need help with dinner?" Kurt offered, Gesturing to the mess of vegetables. (Y/N) also looking at her minced masterpiece, drinking more of her beer and sighing heavily.

"Honestly- I have no idea what I was planning on making. I think I was just chopping stuff for the sake of it" She admitted, Kurt nodding understanding silently Thanking God that she had taken her anger on the vegetables.

"When do you think they will.. return?"

(Y/N) shrugged, clearly deflated at this point as she leaned against the counter top finishing her drink and grabbing another sadly.

"They can teleport farther then you and it can be a real pain to find them when they don't wanna be found.. so it's best to wait it out"

"How far?" He asked, curiosity getting the best of him. (Y/N) smiling at this as she shook her head once more-

"So far they have gone about 20 miles"

Oh how Kurt looked to (Y/N) with pure joy on his face, a boyish laugh bubbling through him.

"20 Miles!? That 32 Kilometers! Ha!" He said as he clapped his hands together excitedly, for a moment he forgot about the problems that weighed on him- He couldn't help but let pride bubble in his chest, his sons were already amazing!

"Mhm.." (Y/N) hummed, drinking more of her beer as she stared at nothing. Kurt realizing right now may not be the best time to be bubbling in joy at his new found sons, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked to his former lover.

Awkward silence again. (Y/N) finished her beer and sat up suddently, tossing her two cans in the trash.

"I'll order food... the boys will be back eventually and probably be hungry" She said rather matter of factly- turning away from Kurt as she went to find some take out menus

"Ja.. That sounds like a good idea..." He mumbled clasping his hands together infront of himself awkwardly.

Lord Help Me...

The two of them didn't speak again to each other- Not when food had been ordered, nor delivered or when the two of them awkwardly sat in the livingroom to eat.

The food was no better then ash in either of their mouths, silently chewing on the oily food. It was awkward.. so very very awkward-

However in a weird way Kurt felt like this awkward feeling (and the knot on his forehead) were little in the price of penance for leaving (Y/N) and his children... It was a small price after all he had done- or more correctly what his inaction had done.

He had so many questions.. He wanted to know what the twins were like, their interest, what their birthdays were, what (Y/N) had been through, if she had photos of those major events in their lives.

(Y/N) stopped eating as she rubbed her face with a heavy sigh.

"Ask Kurt.. You forget I can feel your emotions"

Kurt blushed a big, his cheeks turning purple at forgetting she could feel what he was.

"Leid (Sorry).."

At this small glimmer of what he hoped was forgiveness he asked away every question that came to his mind about his children.. Sitting there, intensely listening to (Y/N) as she told him everything- well everything involving the children, seemingly ignoring anything that had to do with herself.

From their favorite foods, colors, stories of their life, Kurt found himself pleasantly surpsied at how forthcoming she was with this information. Happy to know as much as he could, even chuckling at a few stories he had been told about his offsprings.

"Thank you (Y/N).. I do have to know, Why Milo and Leon? A Soilder and a Lion- Quite strong names"

"That I'll keep to myself-" (Y/N) said calmly, Kurt deciding not to pry any further and nodding. After that it went back to silence, Dinner was finished- Leftovers placed on the counter in hopes of enticing the teenagers. (Y/N) was even generous enough to allow Kurt to sleep on the couch that evening. Before she disapeared down the hallway into her own room- Doubting she was sleeping...

So now Kurt sat in the dark livingroom-

He couldn't sleep.. not in the fucking slightest.

Sitting up he rubbed his face, In times like this his faith felt like his only anchor.. Truly his Hail Mary.

His rosary in his hand as he counted the beads and prayed... He prayed for forgiveness... He prayed for his sons not to hate him... For (Y/N) for give him... Or just for his sons to return soon.

eins.. zwei... drei... vier... fünf

His mind went back to his boys however between his counting of the holy beads.

...Milo favorite color is Red like the Chicago Bulls... He loves Basketball, His favorite food is Strawberries...

sechs.. sieben... acht... neun... zeun..

He had good grades, likes to read a lot since he says it makes him relaxed and his favorite music is R & B.. He Likes the group Dru Hill ..

eins.. zwei... drei... vier... fünf

..Leon favorite color is Yellow because he thinks his eyes are cool.. He loves to skateboard, and his favorite food is spaghetti with extra cheese and ranch...

sechs.. sieben... acht... neun... zeun..

He is a terrible student since he can't sit still, he loves punk and rock music, his favorite band is Red Hot Chili Peppers..

Kurt's eyes began to grow heavy as he thought to himself and continue to count, his lids beginning to droop as darkness took in his vision.

eins.. zwei... drei...

As his eyes finally closed, as exhaustion of the emotional day wrapped around him-

Missing the kitchen window slowly sliding open..

Tag List:

@bruher @alexloveskii @hahaspoilhaha @coliflowerplants @nixonvandeleim @trinswhimsys @black-brained @alastorhazbin @slytherinmushu @i-am-iron-man-3000 @justarandomwriterwriting @allgonemad @sadslasher13 @bimboshaggy @koko-kiko @boywivlove @devotedlyshadowytheorist @newtonfinnigan @mad-grace-amber @bufaunfu @babyred7 @veronika272

[awkward-walking-potato]

The Midnight Visitor

I imagine that Kurt is just the biggest kitty cat of them all.

Like always my requests are open!

The mansion was quiet, with only the soft hum of the nighttime breeze rustling the trees outside. You were curled up on the couch in the living room, reading a book and enjoying the peace after a long day. The only light came from the lamp beside you, casting a warm glow across the pages.

Suddenly, you felt a presence in the room. You looked up just in time to see a faint shimmer in the air before a familiar blue figure appeared in front of you. Nightcrawler—Kurt Wagner—had teleported into the room, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

“Guten Abend,” he greeted softly, a smile tugging at his lips. His voice, always gentle, was tinged with a hint of mischief.

“Hey, Kurt,” you replied, smiling back. “What are you doing up so late?”

He shrugged, his tail swishing lazily behind him. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d come see what you were up to.” His accent was always comforting, a reminder of his kind nature despite his intimidating appearance.

Kurt often wandered the mansion at night, his natural nocturnal instincts keeping him awake long after everyone else had gone to bed. Over time, you had come to enjoy these late-night visits, finding comfort in his quiet presence.

As he moved closer, you couldn’t help but notice the way his fur caught the light. It was soft, velvety, and dark blue, covering his entire body except for his face and fingers. You’d always admired how unique he was, both in appearance and personality.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, already settling himself on the other end of the couch before you could answer.

“Of course not,” you said, setting your book aside. “You know you’re always welcome.”

Kurt stretched out, his tail curling around him like a cat’s. You had to admit, there was something feline about him—the way he moved with such grace, the way his eyes seemed to gleam in the darkness, and especially the way he seemed to enjoy curling up in small, cozy spaces.

As if reading your thoughts, Kurt shifted closer, resting his head on the armrest and closing his eyes. “You know,” he murmured, “I’ve always loved it when you scratch behind my ears.”

You laughed softly, reaching out to gently run your fingers through the soft fur on his head. His fur was even softer than it looked, like the finest velvet beneath your fingertips. “Like this?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

A low, rumbling purr resonated from his chest, confirming your suspicions. “Ja, genau so,” he sighed, his voice filled with contentment. His tail flicked lazily as he leaned into your touch.

It was endearing, really—how someone as powerful and mysterious as Nightcrawler could find so much joy in something as simple as a scratch behind the ears. You continued to stroke his fur, scratching gently behind his pointed ears and along his jawline. Kurt’s purring grew louder, and he tilted his head to give you better access.

“You really do act like a cat sometimes,” you teased, smiling as he practically melted under your touch.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “But only with you.”

There was something incredibly intimate about the way he trusted you, letting you see this softer side of him. To the rest of the world, Kurt was a hero, a warrior who teleported into battle with precision and skill. But here, in the quiet of the night, he was simply Kurt—a man who loved the simple pleasure of being petted.

As you continued to scratch behind his ears, you felt his tail wrap around your wrist in a gentle, affectionate gesture. “You’re going to spoil me,” he murmured, his eyes half-closed in bliss.

“Maybe I like spoiling you,” you replied, your voice just above a whisper.

Kurt opened his eyes, those golden orbs locking onto yours. For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this shared moment of peace and connection. “Then I am a lucky man,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth.

Over the next few nights, your late-night visits with Kurt became a routine. He would teleport into the living room, often without warning, and settle down beside you with the quiet grace of a cat. Sometimes he would talk about his day, other times he would simply lie there, content to be in your company.

One night, as you were absentmindedly running your fingers through his fur, you discovered a spot just at the base of his tail that made him shiver with delight. You paused, wondering if you had hurt him, but Kurt quickly reassured you with a pleased hum.

“Right there,” he murmured, his tail twitching in response. “That’s the spot.”

You chuckled, giving the spot a gentle scratch. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“I didn’t know it was there,” he admitted, his voice slightly breathless. “But I’m glad you found it.”

His reaction was even more intense than usual—his purring deepened, and his whole body relaxed against you. It was as if you had unlocked some secret pleasure for him, one that he hadn’t even known existed.

“There, you’re all relaxed now,” you said softly, continuing to scratch that spot, watching as he practically melted into the couch.

“More than relaxed,” he muttered, his voice heavy with contentment. “If you keep this up, I might fall asleep right here.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having brought him so much comfort. “Then sleep, Kurt. I’ll be here.”

He looked up at you, his golden eyes soft and full of affection. “Danke, meine Freundin,” he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude. “For everything.”

As he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but marvel at the trust he had placed in you. Nightcrawler was a man of many talents, a hero who had faced countless dangers. Yet here he was, completely vulnerable, allowing you to see this tender side of him that so few ever got to witness.

And as you sat there, gently stroking the soft fur of this remarkable man, you realized just how lucky you were to share these quiet, intimate moments with someone as unique and special as Kurt Wagner.

From that night on, your bond with Kurt only grew stronger. He continued to visit you in the quiet hours of the night, seeking out your gentle touch and the comfort that only you could provide. And you were more than happy to oblige, finding solace in the simple act of running your fingers through his velvet-soft fur.

It became your little secret, a shared connection that no one else knew about. To the rest of the world, Kurt was Nightcrawler—the brave, swashbuckling mutant who could teleport through walls and shadows. But to you, he was something more. He was a friend, a confidant, and in many ways, a kindred spirit.

[chxrrywxvss]

Kurt Wagner X Demon Hunter!Reader

𝕆𝕗 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖

“I am a man of my word.”

Kurt Wagner x Afab!Reader Word Count: 2.7k A/N: Guys sorry it's out so late I lost motication for a while. Also sorry this is so rushed I'm trying to get my other asks out as fast as I can

Warnings: Maybe some suggestive stuff

NOT PROOFREAD.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting silvery beams across the deserted streets of New York. The night was alive with whispers, the kind that only this city could conjure. Somewhere in the depths of this urban labyrinth, you stalked the shadows, a demon hunter by trade, your instincts sharpened by years of relentless training.

You had heard rumors of a new player in town—the Nightcrawler, they called him. He was a creature of the dark, known for his uncanny ability to teleport through shadows, slipping away just as quickly as he appeared. Some said he was a menace; others claimed he was a misunderstood soul. Your job was to find him and get rid of him, as your employer had instructed, claiming he scared away the tourists. As you rounded a corner, the air shifted. A chill ran down your spine, and the familiar tingling sensation of being watched crept over you. You tightened your grip on your weapon—a sleek blade gleaming under the moonlight. The city felt different tonight—charged, electric, as if it sensed the impending encounter.

You stopped for a moment, tilting your head higher to sniff the air. While you probably fucking looked insane, it was a perk that came with your ability: you could track people.

When you tilted your head toward a church, your nose wrinkled as the awful smell of sulfur hit your sensitive nostrils. Bingo.

—-----------------------------------------------------

The heavy wooden doors creaked as you pushed them open, stepping into the cool embrace of the old church. The air was thick with the scent of incense and aged wood, the muted glow of candles flickering in the dim light. It was a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the city, a place where shadows danced along the stone walls and the silence whispered secrets. The smell of sulfur mingling with the scent of aged wood and incense invades your nostrils, making your eyes sting. “Fucking ich,” you muttere under your breath, moving forward.

You wandered through the rows of pews, your footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. The stained glass windows cast colorful patterns on the ground, depicting stories of old tales of battles fought and won. You paused before one, the image of a knight slaying a dragon. How original.

You moved quietly, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet that lined the aisle. The church was empty, save for a few scattered pews and the grand altar at the far end, bathed in ethereal light. You paused, allowing yourself a moment to soak in the atmosphere, the sacredness of the space. It was a refuge, a sanctuary from the darkness that often threatened to overwhelm you.

But your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden chill that swept through the church. You instinctively reached for your weapon, the blade hidden in the thigh holster  beneath your coat. You turned slowly, scanning the shadows that clung to the corners, feeling the weight of unseen eyes upon you.

“Looking for something?” a voice called out, smooth and teasing, reverberating through the empty space. You noted the distinct German accent.

You spun around, heart racing. There he was—the Nightcrawler—leaning casually against a pillar, his frame silhouetted by the flickering light of the candle behind him. His eyes glinted mischievously, and a smirk played on his lips. “Or perhaps someone?” “Well, I’m certainly not here to pray.” You retorted, pulling your crossbow from your back. 

“Why do you hunt me?” he asked, his voice smooth and inquisitive. He leaned forward, and the shadows coiled around him, as if they were extensions of his very being.

“You know why,” you replied, keeping your stance firm. “You’ve been causing chaos in the city. People are scared, and I need to find out what you’re really after.”

A smirk danced across his lips. “And you think you can just chase me down in a church? You must know I’m not so easily caught.”

With that, he vanished into thin air, leaving only a swirl of darkness in his wake. You cursed under your breath. You had expected him to try to escape, but the way he moved was disorienting—almost surreal. But it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

—-----------------------------------------------------

You focused on your senses, allowing the lingering scent of him to guide you. He was nearby; you could smell it. You sprinted toward the back of the church, where the air felt cooler, almost electric. As you reached a side door, it swung open, and he appeared again, this time further down a narrow corridor.

“Catch me if you can, liebling!” he taunted, darting away into the darkness beyond.

You chased after him, your heart racing. The narrow hallway twisted and turned, leading you deeper into the church’s catacombs. The air grew thick with the scent of earth and stone, mingled with the faintest trace of incense. You could hear him ahead, his footsteps light and quick.

“Why run?” you shouted, trying to keep your voice steady despite the excitement coursing through you. “I’m not here to kill you—yet.” That was a lie.

He laughed, a low, melodious sound that echoed back to you. “Oh, but you are a hunter, aren’t you? It’s in your nature to chase.”

You rounded a corner and skidded to a halt as he reappeared, blocking your path. The flickering light from the candles behind him cast an ethereal glow. “What’s the matter, hunter? Not so confident now?” he teased, stepping closer.

You could see the mischief in his eyes, but there was something else too—something that hinted at something deeper. “I’m not afraid of you,” you shot back, your voice firm. 

With a swift motion, you lunged, but he vanished once again, and you felt the rush of air as he reappeared behind you. You spun around just in time to see him darting down another passage. You followed him, determination burning in your chest.

The chase became a blur of shadows and movement, twisting through the darkened hallways of the church. You could feel the tension building, the thrill of the hunt fueling your resolve. Yet, with each turn, you caught glimpses of him—his laughter echoing, his form flickering in and out of the shadows.

Finally, you burst into a large chamber, the altar illuminated by a single beam of moonlight streaming through a cracked window. You landed on top of him, catching him by surprise. He ‘ported around the room ,taking you with him each time. The smell of sulfur is unbearable. Eventually, he teleported you both to the ground, you landing on top of him, blade to his throat.

“Is this where you kill me?” he asked, his voice low and breathless. Or do you have other plans, schöne Jägerin?” 

“Not yet,” you panted, trying to catch your breath. “This is where you explain yourself.”

“Explain?” He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what do you think I have to explain?”

“I’m tired of your games,” you replied, your frustration boiling beneath the surface. “I’m not here to kill you unless I have to. I need to know what you’re after.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression shifting from playful to contemplative. “Very well, hunter. I’ll hear you out. But first, you must promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” you asked warily.

“Trust,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze piercing through the shadows. “Just for a moment.”

You hesitated, weighing your options. You had trained to be wary of creatures like him, but something in his demeanor intrigued you. Maybe it was the way he moved, or the way he spoke—there was a depth to him that you hadn’t expected.

“Fine,” you said finally. “I’ll hear you out. But know this: if I sense any deception, I won’t hesitate to end this.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, a hint of admiration in his eyes. “Let’s talk.”

—-----------------------------------------------------

“I’m listening,” you said, your voice steady.

“Do you know why I’ve been lurking in the shadows?” he began, his tone shifting to something more serious. “No, please enlighten me.” You narrowed your eyes, skepticism rising. “Because this is my home, too. And other people, they don’t understand that. They think of me as less than, as an animal to be exterminated..” He murmured, the corners of his lips pulling into a slight frown. It gave you pause. “So you haven’t been terrorizing the people?” You tilt your head, blade lifting an inch off his throat. “Precisely, mein freund! I am a man of God, and of my word.” He gave you a big toothy grin. Somehow you don't believe that, but you sigh and sheathe your knife again.

—-----------------------------------------------------

The church was thick with silence after your agreement, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved tension. You studied the Nightcrawler—his enigmatic presence both unsettling and oddly magnetic. He leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, a playful glint in his amber eyes.

“So, what’s your name, demon hunter?” he asked, breaking the silence. “Or should I just call you ‘hunter’? Oh, liebe has a nice ring to it.”

You replied with your name, trying to sound nonchalant. “And you’re not getting a nickname until I know more about you. You still haven’t told me your name. Your real one.”

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “Fair enough. Call me Kurt. It has a nice ring to it, nicht wahr?”

You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your lips threatening to curl into a smile. “Kurt, huh? That sounds almost… human.”

“Almost?” he countered, stepping closer, his shadow stretching toward you. “What gives you the impression I’m not?” He teased.

“Just a hunch,” you said, maintaining eye contact. “It could be the whole ‘vanishing into thin air’ thing. Or maybe it’s the blue skin.”

“I’d like to think you find me exceptionally charming, handsome, even.” He preened playfully.

You rolled your eyes, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. “Yes, you smell like sulfur. How charming.”

He feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Ah, the pain! Imagine being judged by your scent alone. I thought we were past that.”

“Past that?” you echoed, crossing your arms. “We just met! I have to judge you somehow. It’s in the job description.”

“True,” he admitted, his expression shifting to mock seriousness. “But I can assure you, I’m much more than my scent. I have layers.”

“Layers like an onion?” you shot back, unable to resist. “You know, onions make people cry.”

“Touché.” He grinned, the playful banter lighting up his features. “But I promise, I’m not that pungent. Think of me more like… a fine wine.”

“A fine wine?” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re really reaching now. Do you come with a corkscrew?”

“Only for special occasions,” he winked, stepping closer. The playful banter was drawing you in, the tension between you both palpable. “So tell me, what’s a demon hunter like you doing in a place like this? Surely, you have more exciting places to be.”

“Exciting?” you repeated, rolling your eyes again. “You mean like battling creatures that want to eat my face?”

“Now that sounds thrilling!” he exclaimed, leaning forward with exaggerated enthusiasm. “You should try teleporting sometime. It’s a rush, I promise.”

“Right, because I’d love to disappear and reappear somewhere else without any control over where I end up,” you replied dryly. “I’ll stick to my grounded methods, thank you.”

“Suit yourself. But I can’t help but wonder how many times you’ve had to chase down targets like me. It must get boring after a while.”

“Boring?” you asked incredulously. “Have you ever stalked a demon through the underbelly of the city? It’s anything but boring. It’s exhausting, dangerous, and sometimes downright terrifying.”

“Ah, but think of the thrill! The chase! The adrenaline!” Kurt said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s almost romantic, wouldn’t you say?”

“Romantic?” you echoed, taken aback. “Chasing demons is romantic to you?”

“Why not? You’re pursuing a creature of the night, after all. There’s a certain… allure to it.” He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking, the air thickening with unspoken tension.

“Is that your idea of romance? Chasing down supernatural beings?” You challenged, heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite understand.

“Perhaps,” he said, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “But it’s the connection that matters. The thrill of the hunt, the unexpected encounters… It can lead to something more.”

“More?” you pressed, intrigued despite yourself. “Like what?”

“Like this,” he replied softly, leaning in just a fraction closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Like the chance to see past everything, find the truth beneath it all.”

You held his gaze, your heart pounding as the moment hung in the air between you. “And what truth would that be?”

“That we’re not so different, you and I.” His voice dropped to a whisper, pulling you in with an intensity that left you breathless.

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of confusion and curiosity. “You think we’re alike?”

“More than you know.” He smirked, tilting his head as if assessing you. “You’ve got that fire in you, that determination. It draws me in.”

“Is that your way of flirting?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Because it’s working.”

“Good to know,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “Though I must admit, I’m not used to hunters being so receptive to my charms.”

“So you do this with every hunter, then?” You raise a brow.

He chuckled, heat rising in his cheeks. “N-No, that’s not what I meant… Not every hunter is as.. beautiful as you.”

Your pulse quickened, the air between you charged with an undeniable tension. “What do you want, Kurt?”

“I want to know you,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours, a sincerity in his voice that made your heart flutter. “I want this moment—whatever it is—to last a little longer.”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. The playful banter had shifted into something deeper, something that felt dangerously intimate. “And if I say yes?”

“Then we embrace the unknown together,” he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “And who knows where it might lead?”

You hesitated, caught between the thrill of the moment and the caution that had been ingrained in you as a hunter. But something about his presence felt different—inviting, even. “Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay?” he echoed, his expression lighting up with surprise and delight.

“Okay,” you confirmed, stepping closer. “But if this goes sideways, I’m out of here.”

“Deal.” He grinned, his playful demeanor returning. “But I promise you won’t regret it.”

As if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned in, closing the distance between you. His eyes darkened with intensity, and for a moment, the world outside faded away. Time stretched, and in that heartbeat, it was just the two of you, suspended in a bubble of electricity and possibility.

Then, without thinking, you closed the gap. Your lips met his in a gentle kiss, a spark igniting between you. It was tentative at first, a question hanging in the air, but as he responded, deepening the kiss, the playful tension transformed into something more passionate.

You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the way he enveloped you in shadows and light. It was a kiss that held promise, filled with the thrill of the unknown, the taste of danger lingering on your lips.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, you could see the surprise mirrored in his expression. “Wow,” you breathed, your heart racing. “That was… unexpected.”

“Unexpected, but not unwelcome, mein herz” he replied, a smirk returning to his lips. “I must say, I didn’t anticipate that.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, a grin breaking through your surprise. “Though I can’t say I’m completely opposed to it.”

“Good,” he said, his tone teasing.

After a bout of silence, you clear your throat and step away from him. “Well, I-I should go.” You said, walking toward the church doors. You pause, looking back to where he stands, tail swishing behind him. “How do I know I’ll see you again?”

He grinned impishly. “I am a man of my word, schatz. You will see me again.”

[cera-writes]

I saw you were taking Kurt requests :) Here’s one if you like it - Kurt and Reader get stranded somewhere while on a mission (perhaps a desolate winter world so they have to huddle for warmth) and they have no choice but to wait for the other X-Men to rescue them. In the meantime, some steamy confessions of love happen!!

A/N: thanks for the cute request anon! <3 Pairing: Kurt Wagner x gn!Reader Tags: fluff. forced proximity, comfort/hurt, confessions

Stranded Warmth

The blizzard howled outside, a monstrous white beast clawing at their flimsy shelter. Inside the downed X-Jet, the temperature plummeted faster than a falling Sentinel. Huddled together for warmth, Kurt Wagner, better known as Nightcrawler, and you, (y/n), shivered uncontrollably.

"Shit, shit, shit..." your teeth clamored as your body shook, panic settling in as the threat of frostbite and freezing to death settled in the back of your mind.

Kurt, however, remained calm despite his shivering.

"Don't worry, (y/n)," Kurt mumbled, his scent a familiar comfort in the howling chaos. "Storm'll sense the disturbance, she'll find us along with the rest of the X-Men."

You forced a smile, the gesture feeling brittle in the biting cold. "I know, but it could take days." You rubbed at your arms trying to foster some sort of heat in your aching frozen bones.

The shelter you two had built was just enough to keep you both from freezing for the time being, but the little fire that stoked was trying desperately to remain lit against the howling winds.

You were both stranded in this metal coffin, with only your makeshift fire, the dim glow of the emergency beacon and the rhythmic thump of each other's hearts for company. Silence stretched, broken only by the wind's mournful cry.

Suddenly, Kurt shifted closer, huddling next to you as he draped a blanket over both your shoulders, his blue fur brushing your cheek. "This reminds me of a time I was stranded on..." he started, then stopped.

You looked up, catching a glimpse of something unfamiliar in his golden hued eyes. Hesitation? Vulnerability? "What is it, Kurt?"

He took a deep breath and exhaled, hazy mists clouding the atmosphere surrounding you.. "This… being alone with you like this, it's… different."

His voice trailed off, and your own heart hammered in your chest. The unspoken feelings you'd harbored for Kurt, the telepathic whispers you'd desperately tried to suppress, surged to the forefront.

"Different how?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"Warmer," he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Not just physically, but… here." He tapped his chest, right over his heart.

A warmth, independent of the harsh environment, bloomed within you. "Me too, Kurt," you confessed, your voice trembling. "It's always been… different… with you."

The air crackled with unspoken emotions. In that moment of shared vulnerability, the lines between just another teammate and something more blurred. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"I never thought I'd find someone who wouldn't be scared," he murmured, a touch of sadness tinging his voice.

"I'm not scared," you said, cupping his furry cheek. "Not of you."

His eyes, usually brimming with mischievous amusement, held a depth you'd never seen before. Then, in a swift, surprising move, he closed the distance between you. The kiss was unlike any you'd ever experienced. It was desperate, fueled by the isolation and the sudden realization of something precious, something you could lose in the blink of an eye.

You felt something wrap around your body, pulling you closer into his embrace as it cradled your shivering form. Kurt's tail had send a jolt of pleasant shivers through you instead of the barren cold. He finally pulled away, breathless, to look into your eyes.

"Meine kleine Schneeflocke," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that made you swoon at his words. The unfamiliar term sent a warmth through you, a delicious combination of tenderness and the harsh beauty of your surroundings.

His words became a whispered symphony, each phrase a promise of warmth against the biting cold. "Du bist so tapfer," he murmured, his breath hot against your lips. "Lass mich dich warmhalten."

And he did. His body became a furnace against yours, his warmth seeping through your frozen clothes, chasing away the cold. His kisses, fueled by a newfound urgency, were a brand that seared away the chill. In the flickering light, you saw a vulnerability in him he rarely showed, a yearning that mirrored your own.

The cramped confines of the destroyed X-Jet felt like a world of its own, a world where fear was replaced by a fierce desire. The wait for rescue no longer seemed daunting. In fact, a selfish part of you hoped it might take a little longer. Trapped here, in the cold and isolation, with Kurt by your side, you had found a warmth more intense than anything the outside world could offer.

[mlmxreader]

Bärchen, Beloved | Kurt Wagner x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Can we have a cute lazy day with Kurt and male reader with 2 & 15? ❞

: ̗̀➛ You and Kurt spend the day together when he comes to see you.

: ̗̀➛ swearing

↳ please consider giving to Yamen and Yazan's cause; their family has to rebuild due to the ongoing genocide and they've only raised $488 of their $40,000 goal!

•───────────���───★•♛•★──────────────•

BAMF!

You looked up at the windowsill, smiling when you locked eyes with the familiar yellow gaze; perched on the edge, you could see Kurt's tail dangling over the edge, the pointed tip just grazing against the wall beneath him. Hanging on his wrist, a white plastic bag dangled and dripped slowly from the rain outside.

He knew it was your day off, and he had wanted nothing more than to visit and to spend the day with you - lazing in the bed in comfortable pyjamas and grazing on the snacks he had secured in the bag. He loved days like that, as rare as they had become.

Besides, a pyjama day was well overdue for you both as it was.

You tilted your head, eyeing him up for a moment as you shifted to the other side of the bed, making enough room for him. Kurt had a habit of switching between being curled up and stretching out as much as he could, so you had taken to trying to make as much room for him as you possibly could.

It always helped that he was really warm to the touch, and when he snuggled into your side, you could easily drift asleep without much fuss at the end of the night, and he kept you warm enough during the cold and rainy days.

He clambered down from the windowsill carefully, laying the bag by your feet and tugging at the duvet; a curious smile etched across his lips as he lets out a gentle hum from the back of his throat.

He paused, feeling the fabric between his fingers and doing his best not to grin at the texture; soft, fluffy.

"Ist gut," he mused. "Sehr flauschig... was it expensive?"

"Not really," you admitted, waiting for him to take his shoes off before you gently pulled him to straddle your waist. A quiet laugh left your lips. "Fifteen quid, if that."

"Not bad, not bad," Kurt admitted, getting beneath the duvet next to you. He grabbed the bag, pulling it to his lap as he grinned at you fondly. "Mein Bärchen, what is on today?"

You turned onto your side, grinning as you licked your lips and prepared to tell him; you sucked in a shallow and soft breath. "Well, I was thinking that new horror film we both liked the look of is finally available... I was gonna make popcorn, get into my pyjamas, and then we could watch it?"

It took everything in Kurt not to nod eagerly as he gently put his two fingers under your chin, his thumb settling just and just under your bottom lip. "That sounds wonderful, my beloved."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm," he nodded slightly, still trying to hide his absolute eagerness even though it was flooding through his veins. He almost couldn't contain it, and if it had been in his heart, it would have hammered its way through his ribs within a second. "Would I, by any chance, be invited to sit with you while you shower?"

You shrugged, eyeing the bag on his lap as you laid your hand on his chest. "That depends - what's in the bag?"

"A guessing game?"

"Indeed," you grinned. "Is it energy drinks?"

He smiled back as he nodded. "Ja."

"Are they citrussy and cold?" You asked.

Another nod, another quick and quiet, playful, confirmation.

"Is there... that microwave popcorn we both like?" You inquired.

A purring and gentle confirmation followed by a quick kiss of congratulations.

"And... crisps?" You tugged at the white plastic handles, which made him gently swat your hand away as he tutted softly.

In all honesty, Kurt was the type of man that you would have married; money was the main issue, but it wasn't as if time was exactly the best at the moment either.

A gentle and playful scorn to tell you to stop trying to peek before the game was even over; you loved that side of him - the playful, sweet side that you had fallen in love with.

The side of him that would walk you to your holy building for prayer and then meet you outside with a grin and something to eat afterwards; thankfully, his church wasn't far from your holy building either, so he could easily go and pray himself as well.

"Bärchen?" Kurt hummed softly, knitting his brows together. "Is everything alright?"

Days when he could visit and bring along a bag from the corner shop and watch films with you throughout the hours had been getting fewer and fewer, and although you couldn't blame him, you did miss it when it had been a weekly occurrence.

You nodded, laughing softly as you ran a hand down your chin. "I was just thinking was all."

"Want to share?"

"I just..." you shrugged as you sighed. "We've always said, if we had the time and the money, we'd get married - but as it stands, I don't think it'd be for a long time... I mean, I get it, you know? You're an X-Man, and I knew what I was getting into when we first started dating. But I just... wish things were different, I guess."

"Mein Mann," he whispered, pressing his face to the side of your neck. His prickly stubble making you laugh softly. "Worry not. The time and money will come soon. I promise."

You relaxed a little bit, running your hand through his hair as you licked your lips and cleared your throat. "I hope so. I'd like to be your husband, I really would."

"And I would like you to be my husband," he replied quietly, "but first - how about we get you into your pyjamas?"

"That sounds good," you agreed. "Can I peek into the bag, now?"

"Nein!" He protested with a loud laugh. "It's a surprise. Only peek when we're settled, hmm?"

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing him away from you. "Fine, have it your way, my beloved."

His heart pounded at the term of endearment; it always did. Didn't matter how many times you had said it, or how many times you so casually let it leave you, it always made his heart pound and skip a beat. Falling in love all over again, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world for both of you.

Kurt beamed, getting up and offering you his hand. "Come, Bärchen. Let's get you sorted out."

You eagerly took his hand, letting his two fingers and thumb interlock with your fingers. "Gladly, my beloved."

[nightcrawlervs]

can't a guy do his 8 hours without being harassed by a Toad?

[racefortheironthrone]

What did you think of X-Men Blue Origins?

(I may turn this into a People's History of the Marvel Universe later today, so keep an eye on this space.)

X-Men Blue: Origins and the Power of the Additive Retcon

(WARNING: heavy spoilers under the cut)

Introduction

If you've been a long-time X-Men reader, or you're a listener of Jay & Miles or Cerebrocast or any number of other LGBT+ X-Men podcasts, you probably know the story about how Chris Claremont wrote Mystique and Destiny as a lesbian couple, but had to use obscure verbiage and subtextual coding to get past Jim Shooter's blanket ban on LGBT+ characters in the Marvel Universe.

Likewise, you're probably also familiar with the story that, when Chris Claremont came up with the idea that Raven Darkholme and Kurt Wagner were related (a plot point set up all the way back in Uncanny X-Men #142), he intended that Mystique was Nightcrawler's father, having used her shapeshifting powers to take on a male body and impregnate (her one true love) Irene. This would have moved far beyond subtext - but it proved to be a bridge too far for Marvel editorial, and Claremont was never able to get it past S&P.

This lacuna in the backstories of Kurt and Raven - who was Kurt's father? - would remain one of the enduring mysteries of the X-Men mythos...and if there's one thing that comic writers like, it's filling in these gaps with a retcon.

Enter the Draco

Before I get into the most infamous story in all of X-Men history, I want to talk about retcons a bit. As I've written before:

"As long as there have been comic books, there have been retcons. For all that they have acquired a bad reputation, retcons can be an incredibly useful tool in comics writing and shouldn’t be dismissed out of hand. Done right, retcons can add an enormous amount of depth and breadth to a character, making their worlds far richer than they were before. Instead, I would argue that retcons should be judged on the basis of whether they’re additive (bringing something new to the character by showing us a previously unknown aspect of their lives we never knew existed before) or subtractive (taking away something from the character that had previously been an important part of their identity), and how well those changes suit the character."

For a good example of an additive retcon, I would point to Chris Claremont re-writing Magneto's entire personality by revealing that he was a Jewish survivor of the Holocaust. As I have argued at some length, this transformed Magneto from a Doctor Doom knockoff into a complex and sympathetic character who could now work as a villain, anti-villain, anti-hero, or hero depending on the needs of the story.

For a good example of a subtractive retcon, I would point to...the Draco. If you're not familiar with this story, the TLDR is that it was revealed that Kurt's father was Azazel - an evil ancient mutant with the same powers and the same appearance (albeit color-shifted) as Kurt, who claims to be the devil and is part of a tribe of demonic-looking mutants who were banished to the Brimstone Dimension, and who fathered Nightcrawler as part of a plot to end this banishment.

I don't want to belabor Chuck Austen, because I think that Connor Goldsmith is right about his run actually being a camp cult classic in retrospect. However, I think we both agree that the Draco was a misfire, because of how the retcon undermined Kurt's entire thematic purpose as established in Giant-Size X-Men that Nightcrawler was actually a noble and arguably saintly man who suffered from unjust prejudice due to the random accident that his mutation made him appear to be a demon, and because of how the retcon undermined the centrality of Mystique and Destiny's relationship.

X-Men Blue Origins

This brings us to the Krakoan era. In HOXPOX and X-Men and Inferno, Jonathan Hickman had made Mystique and Destiny a crucial part of the story in a way that they hadn't been in decades: they were the great nemeses of Moira X, they were the force that threatened to burn Krakoa to the ground by revealing the devil's bargain that Xavier had struck with Sinister (and Moira), they were the lens through which the potential futures of Krakoa were explored, and they ultimately reshaped the Quiet Council and the Five in incredibly consequential ways.

This throughline was furthered after Hickman's departure, with Kieron Gillen exploring the backstories of Mystique and Destiny in Immortal X-Men and Sins of Sinister, and both Gillen and Si Spurrier exploring their relationship with Nightcrawler in AXE Judgement Day, Sins of Sinister, Way of X, Legion of X, Nightcrawlers, and Sons of X. One of the threads that wove through the interconnected fabric of these books was an increasing closeness between Kurt and Irene that needed an explanation. Many long-time readers began to anticipate that a retcon about Kurt's parentage was coming - and then we got X-Men Blue: Origins.

In this one issue, Si Spurrier had the difficult assignment of figuring out a way to "fix" the Draco and restore Claremont's intended backstory in a way that was surgical and elegant, that served the character arcs of Kurt, Raven, and Irene, and that dealt with complicated issues of trans and nonbinary representation, lesbian representation, disability representation, and the protean nature of the mutant metaphor. Thanks to help from Charlie Jane Anders and Steve Foxe, I think Spurrier succeeded tremendously.

I don't want to go through the issue beat-by-beat, because you should all read it, but the major retcon is that Mystique turns out to be a near-Omega level shapeshifter, who can rewrite themselves on a molecular level. Raven transformed into a male body and impregnated Irene, using bits of Azazel and many other men's DNA as her "pigments." In addition to being a deeply felt desire on both their parts to have a family together, this was part of Irene's plan to save them both (and the entire world) from Azazel's schemes, a plan that required them to abandon Kurt as a scapegoat-savior (a la Robert Graves' King Jesus), and to have Xavier wipe both their memories.

Now, I'm not the right person to write about what this story means on a representational level; I'll leave it to my LGBT+ colleagues on the Cerebrocast discord and elsewhere to discuss the personal resonances the story had for them.

What I will say, however, is that I thought this issue threaded the needle of all of these competing imperatives very deftly. It "fixed" the Draco without completely negating it, it really deepened and complicated the characters and relationships of both Raven and Irene (by showing that, in a lot of ways, Destiny is the more ruthless and manipulative of the two), and it honored Kurt's core identity as a man of hope and compassion (even if it did put him in a rather thankless ingénue role for much of the book).

It is the very acme of an additive retcon; nothing was lost, everything was gained.

I still think the baby Nightcrawler is just a bad bit, but then again I don't really vibe with Spurrier's comedic stylings.

[bamfkeeper]

Sub.

RQ: 'Hi! I've absolutely adored your work so far! Is there a chance you're up for more gender neutral dom reader, dom/sub, bondage and punishment type beat similar to the previous with Kurt? That type of thing is so hard to come across.' - Anon RQ 2: 'i NEED more sub Kurt getting dicked down (UR BLOG IS AWESOME!! Most in character kurt EVER)' - @wheezyth3dem0n

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader (reader's junk either organic or silicone depending on your preference.)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Smut | dom!reader/sub!kurt, light BDSM, bondage, dom/sub dynamics, some impact play, anal play/anal sex.

A/N: Haven't written nsfw in a minute, most of my focus has been on sfw stuff. But I'm a sucker for sub!Kurt. I don't see a lot of it or read many fics of it so I'm happy to contribute. These requests were from two different blogs, but were similar enough that I combined them together. Not proofread ignore mistakes. WC: 3.3k

"Ready?" You asked him softly, holding up a long silk ribbon for Kurt to see. He looked at the red silk and he nodded slowly, shifting on the bed and sitting up more to face you properly.

"Ja, I am ready..." he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He remained motionless for a brief moment, his body tense with anticipation. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze towards you, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and obedience. "How should I position myself?" he inquired, his tone laced with a hint of eagerness, clearly awaiting your guidance.

You couldn't help but let out a low, appreciative hum in response. He was always so compliant, so eager to please, constantly seeking your direction. You liked him this way…so easy to mold. A familiar thrill of excitement coursed through your body, settling in the pit of your stomach. His yellow eyes, reminiscent of a cat's in the darkness, emitted a faint, ethereal glow in the dimly lit room. Those eyes, wide and filled with an innocent sweetness, looked up at you trustingly, seemingly oblivious to the intense situation that was about to unfold. The juxtaposition of his apparent naivety and the looming events sent a shiver down your spine, further heightening your anticipation.

You circled him slowly, savoring the palpable aura of submission emanating from his form. With each step, you felt your authority over him grow stronger, an intoxicating sensation that coursed through your veins. The power dynamic between you was unmistakable, and you reveled in it. He squirmed uncomfortably on the floor, his movements betraying a mix of anticipation and trepidation. As you completed your circuit, rounding to stand before him once more, his eyes flickered upwards, meeting yours for a brief, charged moment before dropping submissively.

"Now, let's see..." you mused aloud, your voice a silky purr that seemed to caress the air between you. "I think some rope will add a delightful element to our little scene. Red rope, to be precise." A slow, predatory smile curved your lips as you considered the visual. "It will look so good against that exquisite blue skin of yours, don't you think, my dear?" The words rolled off your tongue with deliberate sensuality, each syllable dripping with promise. Your tone alone was enough to elicit a reaction from Kurt, who struggled valiantly to suppress a soft, needy whine that threatened to escape his throat.

You carefully take the velveteen rope, a thoughtful purchase you made to ensure it wouldn't cause any discomfort or harm to his delicate skin, you knew how painful and uncomfortable rope burns were, especially for Kurt and his fuzzy skin. The soft, plush texture of the rope feels luxurious between your fingers as you turn towards him, your eyes meeting his with a mix of anticipation and tenderness. "Now," you say, your voice low and gentle, "I need your wrists, please."

Kurt's gaze meets yours, a flicker of trust and excitement dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he extends his arms, offering his wrists to you. You notice the slight twitch of his tail, nervous energy coursing through him. It's a beautiful blend of anxiety and eagerness that you recognize and appreciate during your intimate moments together.

As you begin to wrap the soft rope around his wrists, you're acutely aware of the weight of his trust in you. The responsibility of his vulnerability isn't lost on you, and you take a moment to offer a reassuring smile. "You're doing wonderfully," you murmur, your fingers working deftly yet gently with the rope. "Remember, we can stop at any time if you need to."

You understand, perhaps better than most, the profound level of trust required for these moments. It's not just about the physical act, but the emotional connection, the willingness to be completely open and exposed to another person. As you secure the final knot, you take a moment to appreciate the beauty of this trust, the depth of the connection you share with Kurt.

He raises his gaze to meet yours, his arms slowly descending to rest in front of him. You maintain a deliberate silence, allowing him the opportunity to acclimate to the sensation of the rope against his skin. Your keen eyes scan his form, searching for any subtle indications - a twitch of muscle, a flicker of expression - that might betray discomfort or unease beneath his composed exterior. However, Kurt's demeanor remains steady, his body language conveying a sense of calm acceptance.

After a moment of quiet assessment, he lifts his head once more, his eyes locking with yours. His voice, when it comes, is steady and tinged with a hint of curiosity as he poses the question, "What now?"

"Now..." you whispered, your voice a soft caress against the silence, "I want you to sit very still for me, like a good boy." Your words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises. You held his jaw in a grip that was both gentle and firm, a delicate balance of tenderness and control. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you until your lips were mere millimeters from his skin. With care, you allowed them to graze over the bridge of his nose, a feather-light touch that sent electricity coursing through both of you.

The contact, brief as it was, seemed to ignite something primal within Kurt. A visible shiver ran through his body, starting from where your lips had touched and rippling outwards like waves on a pond. His tail now thrashed wildly behind him, betraying the intensity of his emotions. You watched as his throat worked, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, clearly struggling to maintain his composure under your intense gaze and touch.

"I want you to move to the bed for me," you cooed softly, your voice a gentle caress in the quiet room. "Lay on your belly, and keep that beautiful tail of yours to the side." Your words were a tender command, filled with both authority and care. He was in a complete haze by now, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. His bright eyes, usually so alert and focused, were now foggy with desire and submission. A soft whine escaped his lips, a sound that was both vulnerable and eager.

With visible effort, he managed to get to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate as he obeyed your command. Each step towards the bed seemed to take an eternity, his body responding to your will rather than his own. He laid down on the bed, his body sinking into the soft sheets. His arms extended in front of him, creating a long, elegant line from his shoulders to his fingertips. The red rope that bound his wrists together stood out in stark contrast against his skin as you said it would, beautiful red swirls wrapping tightly yet tenderly around his indigo skin.

"That's it... I want your tail to be kept to the side at all times, understand? No exceptions, no matter what happens," you spoke authoritatively as you stood behind him, your eyes meticulously raking over his form in this vulnerable position. Your gaze lingered on the curve of his spine, the tension in his muscles, and the way his tail twitched involuntarily under your scrutiny.

"Ja..." he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper and almost caught in his throat. The single word hung in the air, laden with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. His tail twitched again, more pronounced this time, the end curling slightly as he exerted visible effort to keep it off to the side as instructed. The thin, velvety fur along its length bristled slightly at your command.

You began with a gentle touch, your fingers delicately threading through the soft strands at the nape of his neck. With deliberate slowness, you initiated a trail of tender kisses, starting from the sensitive skin just below his ear. Your lips traced a path across the expanse of his neck, each kiss like a gentle whisper.

As your ministrations continued, you gradually moved downward, your lips exploring the contours of his body. You paused momentarily at his shoulder blades, pressing soft kisses against the taut muscles there. Then, with meticulous attention, you traced the line of his spine with your fingertip, your lips following the gentle curve of each vertebra.

Throughout your loving exploration, Kurt's reactions were a beautiful symphony to your ears, a slow building one that you would for sure hear more of shortly. Soft whines escaped his lips, intermingling with gentle moans that resonated in the quiet room. His body trembled slightly beneath your touch, clearly eager for more.

You moved down to the round of his ass and rubbed over the muscles there, sighing as you felt him relax under your touch. Gently, you spread him lightly, looking at his pretty purple hole, teasingly pulsing as it flirted with you. "As much as I'd love to just push inside, I know how much you love to play first." You stood up fully and went to your bedside table, grabbing a handful of items.

When you came back to his side, you placed the items along the bed. There was a bottle of lube amongst the toys you had, your hand found the clear bottle and you squeezed some out onto your fingers. "This will be cold," your fingers brushed his hole, making Kurt tense up at the sensation.

"Aah..." he sighed, his body shuddered, "It is...cold." There was a chuckle in his voice, a hint of shyness in it too. He was twitching slightly as your fingers slowly worked into him, the lube aiding you as your fingers gently moved in and out of him. He was tense at first, but as your fingers pumped in and out, you could feel the tight muscle begin to relax.

"Doing okay so far?" You slowly inserted a third finger into him, earning a gasp and soft moan from Kurt in response. He shivered and nodded, "Uh-huh...ja. Gut." He swallowed thickly and he pushed back against your fingers, gaining more confidence as there was no discomfort. "I'm ready for more," he rasped to you, turning enough so he could see your face.

Kurt was flushed, the German squirming with your fingers inside him, he clearly wanted more and he was getting a bit greedy. You pulled your fingers out of him, a slick pop sounded as you did so, his hole throbbed at the absence of your digits.

"Don't whine too much, I'll be filling you up in just a moment. For now...let's just put this here." At your words, Kurt felt a cold sensation on his hole again, though it was firmer than your fingers and more round. As you pushed the plug into him, he felt his ass stretch around the bulb before it settled inside. He moaned out once it was placed in him, his cock was leaking heavily with arousal and staining the sheets below him.

"Good boy, Kurt." You praised, leaning and kissing his tailbone. "I'm going to need you to slicken me up too, so get on your knees for me, baby..." your voice sounded so sweet and hypnotic in his ears, his body followed automatically. He knelt in front of you, looking up as you held your cock in your hand, slowly stroking it. "Suck...get me nice and prepared for you."

His half-lidded eyes blinked slowly at your dick, his tongue came to wet his lips before he scooted closer to you. The flick of his tail behind him showed his raised nerves, his excitement, and he carefully took you in his mouth. He had to be careful, his fangs made giving blowjobs a bit tricky, but he learned.

The first movements were slow, he gave gentle sucks with each bob of his head, taking more into his throat until he was practically deepthroating you without any visible struggle. You let out a soft moan at the raunchy display, fingers tangling in his curly hair and guiding him. "You're filthy," you managed, gently moving your hips forward as his mouth remained on you, throat open to your shallow thrusts and allowing the tip to slide past his tongue and deeper against the flesh of his throat.

He really got into it, sucking hard and eagerly, making you grunt and moan back at him, he got you nice and sloppy, the light fuzz on his face and chin were coated in his saliva as he pulled off you to breathe. "Aah..." he panted, one of his bound hands awkwardly stroking you while his hot breath kept your head warm. "I want it now." He drooled on you, swallowing thickly, his gaze needy.

"So soon? I was hoping to tease you some more baby..." You looked down and tilted your head, "But I see you're a little impatient. Alright...I'll give you what you want. On the bed again. Lay on your belly...just like that, good boy." You guided him to lay down, talking to him the whole time. His tail obediently moved to the side, that pretty muscle on the underside flexing lightly as your thumb ran up it.

"Aah...bitte..."

"Patience..." You chuckled down at him, reaching for the plug and slowly pulling it out of the tight muscle. Damn...he was still so tight. He was going to feel incredible.

You took the time to spread more lube on him just to help, and you positioned your head at his hole. You felt the muscle tightening around the tip, your breath came out sharply as you pushed inside. There was still some resistance, but overall you slid in easy. Kurt mewled feeling you enter his ass, his face deep violet as he squirmed his hips.

"Bitte, move," he whined, clearly a little impatient. You smirked and held his narrow hips, giving him a quick pop on the ass. He gasped as his tail flicked sharply, his hole clenched around you and he whimpered. "I-I said bitte!" He added, as if it were going to entice you.

"I know you did, baby...I'll move for you, you've been so good for me tonight." You praised and ran your hands up and down his back once, a slow and soothing motion before you began to move inside him, your hips pulling and pushing your cock. The thrusts were deliberate and careful, just in case there was any pain there, but you soon realized he didn't feel any discomfort so you picked up the pace.

Kurt groaned as he felt the muscles in his as stretch, it was such a delicious burn, it was dull but enough to make him feel like he was throbbing. His cock bounced, hitting his abdomen with every thrust you gave to him, the poor head inflamed and leaking heavy bits of precum, the thick beads falling to the sheets and creating a web of arousal from his fuzzy belly to his tip with each swing.

You held his hips tight as you fucked him harder and with increased vigor, knowing he was approaching his orgasm soon, you had been thrusting into him for a few minutes now and the way he tightened around your cock and cried for you told you enough. You gave his ass another light spank, earning you a delightful moan. "Does that feel good? Do you like being spanked? I would've never guessed...you're secretly a little deviant aren't you?" You teased, another spank, and another. None of them were hard, but enough to leave a little sting.

"You gonna cum baby? I feel you...you're moving a lot more, chasing that high aren't you?" You teased in his ear, leaning over him while you kept his hips still so your thrusts felt deeper inside him. You angled his body ever so slightly, finally finding that pesky spot. That sweet, electric spot that hid from you, now exposed to your head as you hit the spongy flesh every time. Kurt cried out in pleasure as you continued to stimulate his prostate, you swore you heard him begging within the choir of moans and cries he gave you. "Aa..ach! Don't stop! Bitte, bitte...! So gut..."

He couldn't hold himself back, and he let out the sweetest broken mewl as he came, his cock swollen as thick ropes of white shot from him. They coated his abdomen and chest, some on the blankets below him, a strand hit his face. He accidentally hit you with his tail as the thing thrashed around wildly, and you had to grab hold of it before he hit you again. You felt your body respond to him and you too reached your release with a sudden burst of rapid energy.

Your hips stilled and you both took deep breaths, recovering from your passions. He was spent, laying in his mess as his legs gave out from below him, no that he seemed to care at the moment. Your hands grasped his ass, spreading him as you slowly pulled out of his greedy hole, the sweet thing now slightly swollen and more purple than before. "Pretty boy...you did so good..." You praised, kissing his spine and laying beside him.

The stickiness of the bed made you cringe slightly, but you pushed that discomfort aside, your presence to him was what mattered most right now. With deliberate care, you gently reached for his arms, your fingers working meticulously to unbind the ruby rope that had held him. As you worked, you hummed softly and spoke in a tender, reassuring tone to poor, exhausted Kurt. "That's it, sweetheart... we're almost done," you cooed to calm his nerves and help him through the daze. He let out a soft, appreciative whine in response to you, the sound tugging at your heartstrings, knowing he felt completely spent.

As the last of the rope fell away, you discarded it without a second thought, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. Your attention remained wholly focused on him, your fingers returning to his skin. You began to gently massage the areas where the rope had been, your touch both comforting and therapeutic. The careful pressure of your fingertips worked to soothe any lingering discomfort and restore circulation to his arms.

He instinctively gravitated towards you, nestling himself more snugly against your side as if seeking refuge in your warmth. A deep, contented sigh escaped his lips as your gentle ministrations continued, you could feel the tension that had been coiled tightly within his body begin to dissipate, like ice melting under the tender caress of spring sunshine. His muscles gradually relaxed under your soothing touch.

"D-danke..." he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. His head shifted slightly, angling to look at you more directly. His eyes held a vulnerable softness that spoke volumes, one only you got to see after being so intimate. "Feels... wunderbar," he murmured, his German accent more pronounced in his relaxed state. "Bitte... don't stop."

"Okay...but in a minute, we need to get you to the shower..." You smiled tenderly at his behavior, observing how sleepy and dazed he appeared. His vulnerability in this moment only strengthened your resolve to care for him, a task you were more than happy to undertake. It was your responsibility and you felt joyous that he trusted you enough to allow himself to be this way with you.

You helped him settle into a more comfortable position. He responded with a drowsy nod, his body relaxing under your attentive touch. As he got comfy, you continued your ministrations, your fingers working methodically to massage his arms and the areas where the ropes had been intricately wrapped around his skin. The intricate patterns left by the ropes were still visible, you hadn’t realized the complexity of the bondage, but you were pleased to note that the skin remained unbroken.

You knew you needed to get up to wash him off of all the sticky cum and sweat, but...looking down at how sweet he was curled up against you made you hesitate from moving right then. You sighed internally, playing with his curly hair and scratching his scalp.

Well...five more minutes wouldn't hurt.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Pinterest, X-Men '97