#mcu x reader

[onegayastronaut]

Home for the Holidays

Words: 2402

The mornings in Westview had a comforting rhythm, especially during the holiday season. The sun spilled golden light over the neatly trimmed hedges dusted with snow and pastel-colored houses adorned with twinkling lights, waking the quiet streets with a gentle glow. In your little cul-de-sac, life moved at its own serene pace, a stark contrast to the chaos that often lay just outside its borders. Here, the days began with the warm scent of coffee, the rustle of newspapers, and the soft hum of companionship.

You were perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, a steaming mug in hand, as Agatha bustled around the room. She wore her usual cozy cardigan, now complemented by a festive scarf, her dark curls slightly disheveled, and her expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. Wanda, still wrapped in her scarlet robe, stood nearby, her hands deftly moving as she flicked through a recipe book. Every so often, she would glance up at you with a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You’re going to burn the gingerbread again, Agatha,” Wanda teased, her Sokovian accent soft in the morning air.

“I am not going to burn it,” Agatha shot back, wagging a butter knife in her hand. “And even if I did, you’d just magic it back to perfection, wouldn’t you, darling?”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your coffee. The gentle banter between them was as much a part of your mornings as the sunrise. It was a rhythm you had grown to adore since the three of you decided to settle here together, away from the complications of your past lives. This little suburban bubble was your haven.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Wanda said, turning her gaze to you. “Everything alright?”

You nodded, setting your mug down and hopping off the counter. “Just enjoying the view,” you replied, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. She leaned into your embrace, her body warm and familiar against yours.

Agatha cleared her throat dramatically, drawing both your attention. “If you two could pause your sappy moment for a second, I’d appreciate some help hanging these stockings.”

“Oh, she’s jealous,” Wanda said with a smirk, her green eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Jealous?” Agatha snorted, though the corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Sweetheart, I don’t get jealous. I’m far too mature for that.”

“Mhm, sure,” you teased, releasing Wanda to grab the stockings from the nearby box. “Where would you like these, oh wise and mature one?”

Agatha swatted lightly at your arm with a dish towel, a grin breaking through her mock-annoyance. Moments like this felt like the glue holding your unconventional little family together. You weren’t just partners; you were a team, a well-practiced trio learning to navigate life’s small joys and challenges together.

After breakfast, you all fell into the easy flow of your holiday routine. Agatha tended to the garden, humming under her breath as she hung string lights along the hedges with an almost magical touch. Wanda worked on a cross-stitch pattern by the bay window, occasionally pausing to sip her tea and admire Agatha through the glass. You found yourself on the porch swing, a book in your lap, basking in the quiet contentment of the moment.

When the door creaked open and Wanda stepped outside, you scooted over to make room. She sank down beside you, her hand immediately finding yours.

“You know,” she said softly, her thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin, “it’s days like these that remind me why we chose this place.”

“Peaceful, isn’t it?” you replied, leaning your head against her shoulder.

“It is,” she agreed, then added with a playful glint in her eyes, “Though I think Agatha secretly misses the chaos sometimes. She’d never admit it.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Agatha called from the garden, waving a strand of lights in mock indignation. “And I don’t miss it. I just have… a healthy appreciation for the dramatic, that’s all.”

Both you and Wanda burst out laughing, your voices mingling in the crisp winter air. Agatha’s theatrical flair was just another thing you adored about her.

The afternoon was spent in the kitchen, where Wanda and Agatha engaged in an impromptu gingerbread house competition. Flour and icing dusted every surface, including your nose, as you acted as the impartial judge. Wanda’s house was perfectly constructed and decorated with precision, while Agatha’s had a rustic charm that matched her personality.

“So, who’s the winner?” Wanda asked, leaning against the counter with a confident smirk.

“Obviously me,” Agatha declared, before you could even open your mouth. “Look at this masterpiece!” She gestured to her slightly crooked but undeniably creative structure.

You pretended to deliberate, taking another bite of a gingerbread cookie. “Hmm, I think the real winner here is me,” you said, grinning. “I get to eat all of this.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face was impossible to miss. Agatha crossed her arms, her expression mock-serious. “Fine, we’ll call it a tie. But only because I’m feeling generous.”

As the day faded into evening, the three of you found yourselves on the couch, wrapped in a shared blanket. Wanda rested her head on your shoulder, her fingers intertwined with yours, while Agatha leaned against the armrest, her feet propped up in your lap. The warm glow of the Christmas tree lights bathed the room in a soft ambiance. A holiday movie played on the television, though none of you were paying much attention. It was enough just to be there together, surrounded by the warmth of your little family.

“I don’t say it often,” Agatha began, her voice softer than usual, “but I’m glad we found this. Found each other.”

Wanda lifted her head, her eyes meeting Agatha’s across the dimly lit room. “Me too,” she said, her voice filled with quiet sincerity.

You squeezed Wanda’s hand, your heart full. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “Well, lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

The following morning brought the first real snowstorm of the season. Heavy flakes drifted down in a soft, steady rhythm, blanketing the town in a pristine layer of white. You stood by the window, sipping your coffee and marveling at the peaceful scene outside.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda said, joining you with her own mug. She leaned her head against your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck.

“Perfect for staying inside,” you said, glancing over at Agatha, who was layering up in an impressive number of scarves. “Where are you off to?”

“I promised Mrs. Abernathy I’d help her fix her lights,” Agatha replied, rolling her eyes as if to downplay the act of kindness. “The poor woman’s been wrestling with that inflatable Santa for days.”

Wanda grinned. “You’re such a softie, Agatha.”

“Oh, hush,” Agatha said, though the faint blush on her cheeks was unmistakable. She grabbed her coat and a tin of cookies you’d baked together the day before. “Don’t wait up for me.”

As the door shut behind her, Wanda pulled you toward the couch. “Looks like it’s just us. What should we do?”

You smirked, setting your mug down. “I have a few ideas.”

By the time Agatha returned, the house was filled with the warm aroma of mulled wine and the sound of soft holiday music. She stomped the snow off her boots in the entryway, her cheeks rosy from the cold.

“Smells good in here,” she said, shrugging off her coat. “What did I miss?”

“Not much,” Wanda replied, handing her a glass of wine. “Just a very competitive game of Scrabble.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “And who won?”

You and Wanda exchanged a look. “It’s… still up for debate,” you said, earning a laugh from Agatha.

The rest of the evening was spent decorating the tree. Ornaments from past years were unpacked, each one sparking a story or memory that filled the room with laughter. Wanda carefully placed a delicate glass star at the top, her powers steadying it in place. Agatha stood back, her arms crossed, surveying the final result.

“Not bad,” she said, feigning indifference. “Could use more glitter, though.”

“You and glitter,” Wanda teased, nudging her playfully.

“It’s an art form,” Agatha shot back, winking at you.

As the night wore on, the three of you curled up on the couch once more, watching the snow fall outside. Agatha’s hand rested lightly on your knee, Wanda’s fingers intertwined with yours. It was moments like this that made everything else fade away. The world outside could wait. For now, this was all that mattered.

The next morning brought with it a plan for a holiday craft day, an idea Agatha had proposed with surprising enthusiasm. The dining table was soon covered in ribbons, glue sticks, construction paper, and an assortment of tiny baubles. Wanda’s precision was unmatched as she folded intricate origami stars, while Agatha opted for a more “free-spirited” approach, resulting in a papier-mâché snowman that leaned heavily to one side.

“It’s avant-garde,” Agatha declared when you raised an eyebrow at her creation. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand,” you teased, gluing sequins onto a homemade card. “I understand you’ve created a snowman who looks like he’s had a little too much eggnog.”

Wanda giggled, her eyes sparkling as she added finishing touches to her own wreath. “It’s charming, Agatha. Very you.”

The day passed in a blur of glitter and laughter, the three of you fully embracing the silliness of it all. By the time evening rolled around, the house was a sparkling testament to your combined efforts, with handmade decorations adorning every available surface.

On Christmas Eve, you decided to exchange small, heartfelt gifts. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the scent of spiced cider filled the room. Wanda handed you a neatly wrapped package first, her eyes filled with quiet anticipation. Inside was a hand-knitted scarf in deep, warm tones that matched your favorite coat perfectly.

“I’ve been working on it for weeks,” she admitted, her cheeks faintly pink. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you said sincerely, pulling her into a hug. “It’s perfect.”

Agatha’s gift to you was less traditional but no less thoughtful: an enchanted charm that glowed faintly when you held it. “For protection,” she said casually, though her expression was unusually tender. “Not that you need it with us around, but it never hurts.”

“Thank you, Agatha,” you said, your voice soft as you met her gaze. “I’ll treasure it.”

The gifts you had for them were simple but heartfelt—a custom-made journal for Wanda to sketch her designs and record her thoughts, and a vintage cookbook for Agatha, complete with handwritten notes from you on which recipes to try first.

That night, as you all sat by the tree, the room glowing with warmth and love, Agatha pulled out an old record player and placed a vinyl on the turntable. The soft strains of a classic holiday tune filled the air, and she extended a hand to Wanda.

“Dance with me,” she said with a small smile, her tone teasing yet sincere.

Wanda hesitated for only a moment before taking her hand. They swayed together in the dim light, their movements easy and natural. After a while, Wanda reached out to you, pulling you into their circle. The three of you moved together, a quiet rhythm of love and connection weaving between you. It was in that moment, with the snow falling softly outside and the world reduced to the warmth of your shared embrace, that you felt truly, completely home.

Christmas morning arrived with a sense of magic in the air. The three of you woke to the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, the snow outside glistening like diamonds. Agatha was the first to get out of bed, claiming she had to "check on something," leaving you and Wanda to savor the cozy warmth of the blankets for a little longer.

When you finally made your way downstairs, you found Agatha in the kitchen, humming softly as she flipped pancakes shaped like stars and snowflakes. The dining table was already set, adorned with holly and candles, making the morning feel even more special.

“Pancakes for Christmas?” you asked, grinning as you leaned against the doorway.

“Pancakes and mimosas,” Agatha corrected, motioning to a tray of glasses filled with sparkling orange juice. “I figured we’d start the day right.”

Wanda appeared a moment later, her face lighting up at the sight of the spread. “It looks beautiful, Agatha.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Agatha quipped, though the pride in her eyes was clear. “This is a once-a-year kind of effort.”

The three of you settled at the table, sharing stories and laughter over breakfast. Agatha’s pancakes were surprisingly good, though she claimed it was her “innate culinary genius” rather than the cookbook you’d given her the night before.

After breakfast, it was time for the annual snowball fight—a tradition that had started your first winter in Westview. Bundled up in coats and scarves, you headed to the backyard, where the pristine snow was perfect for forming snowballs. Agatha, ever the strategist, immediately began building a snow fort, while Wanda used her powers to craft perfectly round snowballs with uncanny precision.

“You’re cheating!” Agatha called, dodging one of Wanda’s throws.

“It’s called being efficient,” Wanda replied, her laughter ringing out as she launched another snowball.

You joined in the fray, your sides aching from laughing as Agatha’s fort crumbled under the onslaught of Wanda’s precision and your sneak attacks. By the end of it, all three of you were breathless and covered in snow, collapsing onto the ground in a heap of giggles.

As the sun began to set, you returned inside to warm up by the fire. Hot cocoa was passed around, topped with marshmallows and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Agatha leaned back against the couch, her eyes half-closed as she sipped her drink.

“This,” she said softly, “is what it’s all about. Days like this.”

Wanda nodded, her hand finding yours. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the life you’d built together. The holidays weren’t about grand gestures or elaborate celebrations—they were about moments like these, filled with love, laughter, and the warmth of family.

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

Mama’s boy through and through

— roses and rings —

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Bucky’s cliché proposal isn’t as cliché as it seems. Not when your son is involved.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x SingleMom!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

A/N: I hope you all have had an amazing Valentine’s Day. This is a Valentine’s Day fic at the end of the day cause I was trying to find my flow and it took long. It’s not the best, but not the worst. Enjoy!

Bucky's heart pounded against his chest like a relentless drumbeat as he stood before the door, its wooden surface staring back at him. His gaze flickered from the doorknob to his own trembling hand and every nerve in his body seemed to be electrified with anticipation, sending jolts of anxiety coursing through his veins. The bouquet of flowers he held felt heavy in his grasp, the delicate petals flopping over and brushing against his clammy palms. With a shaky breath, he mustered the courage to reach for the doorknob once more. His fingers closed around the cool metal and then he twisted. 

“Ma, Bucky’s here!” Grayson's voice echoed through the cozy apartment, breaking the tense silence that had settled in the air. Bucky's gaze flickered towards Grayson, who was perched on the sofa with an eager expression, his eyes fixed on the super-soldier standing in the threshold. The apartment, though small, exuded warmth and comfort, with its open floor plan allowing a flow between the living room, dining area, and kitchen. 

“Why was the door open?” Bucky asked him with a raised eyebrow. His senses were on high alert, scanning the space for any signs of disturbance or danger. The thought of an uninvited guest or a potential threat sent a shiver down his spine, but he forced himself to remain composed, his training kicking in instinctively.

“Calm down, Buckaroo,” Grayson drawled, his boyish grin on full display. “I only opened it when ma said you texted.” Bucky's tension eased slightly at Grayson's reassurance, though his guard remained up. He nodded in acknowledgment. From the scrawny ten-year-old boy he had saved from a car, Grayson had grown into a well-built, tall sixteen-year-old. His floppy H/C hair and his E/C eyes were all you. 

Thinking of you snapped him back to reality. “Where’s your ma?” Bucky's thoughts drifted to you, his heart skipping a beat at the mere mention of your name. The memories of your shared moments flooded his mind, filling him with a sense of longing and affection.

“Getting ready.” Grayson thumbed at your room in the only hallway obscured from view. Bucky's lips curved into a small smile as he imagined you preparing for the date. He glanced towards the hallway, where Grayson had gestured, a pang of anticipation building in his chest. Grayson glanced at your room quickly before turning further to face Bucky, arms coming to sit on the cushions on the back of the couch. The mischievous glint in Grayson's eyes was unmistakable, stirring a sense of curiosity within Bucky. 

Another grin, a more mischievous and cunning one, graced his lips and he lowered his voice. “Also, did you get it?” Grayson's lowered voice was tinged with excitement, his demeanor suddenly more serious. 

Bucky panicked with his question, sparing a glance at your door before throwing Grayson a deadpan expression. “‘Course I got it,” he replied with forced calmness, though his voice betrayed a hint of tension. Grayson arched an eyebrow, his curiosity palpable as he silently requested to see it. Bucky hesitated for a moment, his fingers instinctively reaching for the velvet box nestled in his pocket. With a resigned sigh, he retrieved it and tossed it towards Grayson, his movements swift yet deliberate. 

But before Grayson could examine the contents of the box, your door swung open, interrupting the exchange. In a split second, Grayson acted, swiftly concealing the box in his pocket with practiced ease. Bucky cursed under his breath, the weight of his mistake settling heavily upon him as he scrambled to regain his composure. Bucky's heart lurched in his chest as he turned towards you, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you standing there and with the realization of what had just happened. 

Bucky's pulse quickened as he tried to mask his anxiety with a charming smile, though his mind raced with the realization that his carefully planned surprise might have been jeopardized. He prayed silently that he would be able to get it back from Grayson before you two left. 

“Hey, you,” Bucky greeted you, a charming smile enough to catch your attention. He stepped forward, eager to close the distance between you, his eyes drinking in the sight of you as if seeing you for the first time all over again. That had been a day. It had also been over five years since then, but each time he saw you, he fell all over again. 

“Hey, yourself, handsome,” you retorted, allowing a small smirk to grace your red stained lips. He hoped you had used a smudge-proof lipstick because there was no way in hell that he would be able to keep his hands off of you for a long time, much less not kiss you very soon. 

“Please tell me it’s smudge-proof, doll,” Bucky teased, his voice laced with a hint of mischief as his eyes flickered towards your lips. His fingers itched to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his touch. He longed to lose himself in the depths of your gaze, to drown in the ocean of emotions that swirled within them. He longed and ached for you. 

He reached out, hooking an arm around your waist and pulled you towards him. Your squeal was swallowed down with his lips on yours, not waiting for you to confirm whether or not it would stain his. He didn’t mind anyway. He liked it when your lipstick was faded and coating his lips or cheeks and sometimes his neck. The marking of it, the claim of it, made his heart beat faster than he thought it would. He drank in the taste of you, savoring every moment as if time itself had stopped just for you both.

A groan from Grayson interrupted the blissful moment, reminding Bucky of the world outside their bubble of intimacy.  “That’s my mom, man,” Grayson protested, covering his eyes. With a reluctant chuckle, he reluctantly pulled away, though his arms still held you close. Bucky held out the bouquet of roses towards you with a playful grin. You took them with a grin, burying your nose into them and whispering your thanks gently. 

“I’ll just put them in water real quick and then we can go,” you told him with a wink, laughing when Grayson peeked through his eyes and let out a dramatic relieved sigh. However, beneath the surface, Bucky's panic simmered, manifesting as cold sweat on the back of his neck. He watched you move towards the kitchen, his mind racing with the urgency of retrieving the velvet box from Grayson's possession. You grabbed the vase you usually put his gifted flowers in and filled it with water, passing him a gentle smile as you placed the vase on the counter. 

“Uh, you sure you’re ready?” He winced at the way your face fell ever so slightly, but he needed to get the velvet box back from Grayson. “I meant that you look absolutely stunning, but you usually forget to put something in your purse. Are you sure you have everything?” The smile that had wilted on your face brightened once more and Bucky let his shoulders relax ever so slightly. Even if he wanted that box back, he couldn’t let you think that you were any less than beautiful. Simply because you weren’t. 

“Yeah, okay,” you replied with a giggle, unwrapping the plastic surrounding the bouquet. “You got me there, but I think I have everything this time.”

Bucky breathed a silent sigh of relief, allowing himself a small moment of respite as he watched you attend to the flowers. As Bucky watched you carefully unwrap the plastic surrounding the bouquet, he couldn't help but notice the way your fingers delicately traced the contours of each flower, as if coaxing them into a perfect arrangement. His heart swelled with affection at the sight, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of your presence.

A minute later, Grayson cleared his throat, effectively capturing Bucky’s attention as well as yours. 

Grayson smiled innocently at you and said, “You forgot to put on the necklace.” You wrinkled your nose in amusement at Grayson's comment, your focus still on arranging the flowers to your liking. Bucky looked over and saw that Grayson's innocent smile masked a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he pointed out your forgotten accessory. 

“I didn’t know you cared about that, but the colour was a bit different to this one,” you explained with a shrug, your tone casual yet laced with humor. Bucky's heart skipped a beat at the sight of your grin, his own lips curving into a smile in response. “Ready to go?”

“Ma, didn’t you have some really important emails to check?” 

“Gray,” you started, furrowing your eyebrows and grabbing your purse that was hung on a chair, “I can check those later. I’m going on a date right now.” He watched as you brushed off Grayson's concern with a determined flick of your hand, your unwavering resolve shining through as you prepared to leave. With the color draining from Bucky’s face, he quickly started thinking of an excuse that wouldn’t alert you of anything suspicious. 

“Oh, yeah, right.” Grayson nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“Do you wanna grab a book to read?” Bucky asked all of a sudden, gesturing to your bedroom. He knew he had to retrieve the velvet box before it was too late, but he couldn't let you see his urgency. He was hoping to buy himself enough time. “It’s a long ride and we might have to wait for our reservations.” 

“No,” you responded, digging in your purse for something. You took out your phone and showed it to him with a slight shake. “I bought an audiobook so we could listen to it in the car.” Bucky's heart raced as he realized his window of opportunity was closing rapidly. He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and hope that this was all a bad dream, a nightmare, and instead grinned as if nothing was wrong. 

Bucky helped you get your coat on, covering the dress he had yet to compliment. He usually saved the compliments for later, knowing that Grayson would only gag and roll his eyes. Grayson had confided that he secretly loved the fact that his mom was finally happy and he finally got the father figure he deserved. Bucky couldn’t help but ask for his permission to ask his mom to marry him. They had been together for four years now. It was about time, was all Grayson said with a nod and grin. 

Bucky inhaled and exhaled deeply, putting his hand on your lower back to grab your attention. “Could I just talk to Grayson for a minute?” He saw the confusion seep into your brows and worry flood your eyes. He smiled softly to smother your overwhelming feelings. “About staying home alone, doll. I know you’ve talked to him and he can hold his own now, but I just need to make sure.”

With your eyes softening, you nodded and cupped his cheek, leaning in to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, James,” you whispered, eyes now filled with unshed tears and complete adoration. Bucky felt his heart warm, words clogged in his throat so he merely let his lips twitch into a smile and leaned into your hand. “I'll stop the elevator.” 

When the door opened and closed, Bucky turned around and yelled, “Gray!” Grayson jumped from the couch and skid across the floor, socks slippery enough on the hardfloor. He slammed the velvet box onto Bucky’s outstretched hand with a grin. 

“It’s as pretty as her,” Grayson mumbled.

“There’s never gonna be something as pretty as her, Gray.” 

Grayson waited a moment to speak and Bucky held his breath for his response. 

“You’ve got lipstick on your face.”

[ironstrange1991]

Unexpectedly Ours: Part 2: What It Does To Us

Pairing: Doctor!Strange, Defender!Strange, Supreme!Strange x Pregnant!Reader

Synopsis: As the first weeks go by, the reader tries to understand how she feels about being pregnant while the Stephens begin to be affected by it in a very intense way.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Pregnancy related themes, polyamorous relationship dynamics, SMUT: Oral sex with male receiving, finger fucking, unprotected p n v sex, squirting, creampie, pregnancy kink.

A/N: It took me 11 months to finish this chapter and I am so proud of what I did here. Has been a while since I posted a smut fic and this one is pretty filth and I won't apologize for that. Hope you guys enjoy it and have a nice reading ;)

CHAPTER ONE SERIES MASTERLIST

Being pregnant was much more exciting in the movies than in real life. The first twelve weeks were being extremely challenging for you because everything was new. The nausea continued for the first two months and began to lessen as you entered the end of the first trimester, but with the end of the morning vomiting came other sensations that you were still learning to live with.

But the pregnancy also brought something extremely positive from the point of view of your peace of mind: the Stephens had stopped fighting - at least in front of you - and the Sanctum was immersed in a collective understanding that nothing in the world could upset you, and of course, you were very grateful for that.

You were getting a lot more attention too, which, in some ways, still seemed like it wasn't enough because the pregnancy made you even more clingy to your men than you already were and even though they hadn't been going on missions together since finding out about the pregnancy to not leave you alone, they still needed to go to work and you needed to work too and you missed them a lot when you were apart, much more than you considered normal. It was almost a physical pain.

You couldn't tell which of the Stephens was happier about the pregnancy. Defender, of course, was happy from the first moment, but after the initial shock wore off, Supreme embarked on that pregnancy with you with an infectious happiness and Stephen simply couldn't contain his happiness, he was with you all the time, telling you how happy he was and how he couldn't wait to finally meet his baby. His baby. You loved how the question of paternity proved to be something natural for them. They were the same man, had the same DNA and were the fathers of your baby. Never, ever, did they question whether it was possible to know which of them had fathered the child. And you loved them even more for it. Basically, you felt like the most loved person in the world and what woman wouldn’t like to feel that way?

The pregnancy was also making noticeable changes in you, both emotionally and physically. As if it were possible, you felt like you loved them even more. You could barely keep that feeling in your chest and you were so needy all the time and the Stephens were loving it. They took turns so that you always had one of them around and they made sure to keep you close to them at all times, whether it was cuddling on the couch, in bed, or accompanying them to their readings at the library. You just needed to be physically together.

Your libido also changed with the arrival of pregnancy hormones, it increased a lot and although you were already expecting some kind of change in this sense, you didn't imagine it would be something so strong, after all you already had a very high sex drive, but what you were experiencing was unprecedented. You were literally having sex all the time.

Every morning you woke up aroused and that particular morning was no different. You had barely opened your eyes, and your hands were already groping the mattress looking for Stephen, your body already begging for him. Opening your eyes you were graced by the sight of him sleeping beautifully beside you in his pajama pants and t-shirt, his face turned towards you, his expressions calm and comforting.

It was Monday morning and you needed to start the day, but you couldn't think of doing that without first getting what your body was asking for.

With the increase in libido, your lubrication increased alarmingly and as you watched Stephen sleeping, you could feel the wetness in your panties and before you knew you were squeezing your thighs together and biting your lip. Knowing full well that waking Supreme up in the morning wasn't exactly an easy task, but fully aware that you couldn't help it when you wanted him so much, you crawled closer to him and touched his face and kissed his lips lightly and called his name a few times. However, there was no sign of a response. You tried a few more times and then sighed in frustration, but soon a mischievous smile played on your lips and your hand went down to his cock, soft and hidden inside his pants.

While moving your hand slowly up and down his length, the smile on your lips turned into a soft moan when you felt him harden under your touch and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. Impatiently you knelt on the bed and slipped your hand inside his pants. He wasn't wearing any underwear, so you grabbed his cock and pulled it out and without thinking for a second, you bent down to put him in your mouth.

Stephen sighed heavily and shifted in bed, but he remained asleep as you licked his length up and down, took his balls in your mouth and sucked them eagerly while pumping him slowly. You never ceased to be amazed at what a heavy sleeper he was. You let out a chuckle and finally took him whole in your mouth being generous in the suction, using your tongue with desire.

Stephen’s hips bucked against your mouth as he let out something between a hiss and a moan and you knew he was awake because you felt his hand on your head, his fingers tangling in your hair and his legs shaking.

"H-honey... oh fuck." His voice broke with pleasure and he gave in to his beautiful little moans. With both hands he grabbed your hair and tied it into a makeshift ponytail, but he didn't push, just kept them out of your face so he could have a nice view of what you were doing to him.

"That's right, suck my cock just like that. Oh, fuck honey, I love it when you wake me up like this."

You responded with a hum and made sure to maintain eye contact as you sucked him, flicking your tongue over the head, going all the way in and taking him out of your mouth with a pop. Repeating the process over and over again.

"Mmm, you do it so good. May I ask what I did to deserve such a special treatment?"

You smiled your best smile and pulled away just enough for you to pull off your panties and move to straddle him, lifting your nightgown and rubbing the tip of his cock against your completely soaked folds.

"I just needed you. My body has been asking for you since I woke up." You confessed and he grinned widely. He was so proud for having you feeling like that and he didn’t even tried to hide. His narcissism showing.

"Hmm, those hormones are making you so needy. That’s what you’re saying?" He teased "Put me inside you, then. Let me stretch you out the way you need it, love."

You did exactly as he asked and moaned outrageously loudly as you let yourself sink down onto his cock, feeling the delicious stretch that only Stephen's big dick could provide you.

"Just like that, honey.” He hissed “Body is asking for me, huh? This little pussy is so fucking wet for me. Tell me how much you wanted my cock. Tell me you couldn't wait for me to wake up to fuck you because you were so needy. Tell me."

You moaned, resting both hands on his chest and began to move your hips up and down, gyrating them sensually at first, but doing it faster as the pleasure increased.

"I couldn't wait, Steph. My body feels weird now, wants you all the time." You confessed and he grabbed your waist, taking control and moving you on his cock just the way he wanted. Fast and hard. The sound of the love you were making filled the silence of the room and the smell of sex were all you could sense in the air.

"It's because you're pregnant with my baby, love. Body is full of these delicious hormones right now, letting you like this, begging for cock."

You moaned loudly, feeling his words making you even more horny than you already were. Somehow the pregnancy was a turn on for you as much as it was for him, and you loved it when he talked dirty to you about it, but that only made you feel more needy and somehow what he was giving you wasn’t enough anymore. You just needed so much more.

"Stephen... take me, fuck me harder." You whined and he quickly got the message placing you underneath him in one swift movement. He came on top of you, penetrating you again and grabbing the headboard to fuck you harder. His thrusts quickly became rough, his hips grinding against your core and providing delicious friction on your clit. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails scratched his back as you felt your body being quickly pushed to the limit.

The pregnancy also made your orgasms easier and faster, not to mention that they were more intense too and as Stephen fucked you and whispered in your ear how happy he was, how much he loved you and how good you felt, you knew you were close. Oh, so close.

"S-shit, such a warm pussy.” He groaned “This pregnant pussy is all mine, huh? Those mommy hormones are making you so fucking needy and I'm loving every second of it. Tell me how good I'm making you feel. Tell me, mommy."

You couldn't help but be surprised by the way he referred to you, but at the same time you almost came at the word. It was undeniable that you were also enjoying every second of it and you were so close, all you needed was a little push, so you decided to play along.

"So good, Steph. Please, don’t stop. I'm so close.”

“I won’t stop” He promised while keeping the pace of his thrusts, using his hand on the headboard for support.

 Please, say it again." You begged.

As if possible, Stephen increased the force of his thrusts and buried his face in your neck indulging in his own pleasure and surrender to that new found fetish of yours.

"Such a dirty mommy letting me fuck this sweet pregnant pussy like this. Wanna cum inside this pussy, mommy, so fucking deep. Please, tell me you gonna take it. Tell me you want all of it. "

You moaned loudly, locking your legs behind his back and feeling the knot tightening in your stomach.

"Yes, Stephen, please, cum inside me. Make me cum."

Stephen let out an almost animalistic groan as he gave in to his own orgasm, cumming deep inside you and pulling you along with him. Your orgasm was intense and wet. Pregnancy had changed that too, most of your orgasms were squirting now because of the excess of  lubrication and although you were always embarrassed by the mess, they loved it, especially Supreme. For that reason, there was a proud smile on his face as he pulled out and rolled onto his side of the bed.

"Fuck, honey! This was insane.” He praised “We should keep you pregnant from now on. Fill this house with kids and have sex like this every day."

You knew he wasn’t being serious, but his voice was serious enough to make you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, right. Because morning sickness is one thing I want to keep in my life."

He chuckled, extending his arm for you to snuggle closer to him. "Okay, this part isn't much fun, but the squirting, come on, honey, you have to admit it's amazing."

You cuddled into his chest, resting your head on his shoulder and almost purring when he started scratching your scalp delicately.

"It's wet and messy." You complained to which he giggled.

"That's precisely why we like it so much."

"Hmm." You let yourself be pulled to his lips and he kissed you softly. Without giving much thought to what you were doing, you took one of his hands and began to play with his blackened fingers. Stephen no longer twitched when you did that, and you knew that was a good sign.

"So... mommy kink? That's new. I never took you for someone who liked to play on the submissive side." You teased, lifting your head enough to see the clock on the nightstand and being thankful that you still had a few minutes before you needed to get up.

Stephen smirked "I don't think we can classify it as mommy kink if I was in control the whole time." He replied proudly hurrying to correct you. "I'm not a submissive man. I leave that to Defender, but I have to admit that the idea of ​​you being a mother turns me on. And the word mommy... fuck, it really does things to me."

"It does things to me too apparently... the way you say it." You confessed a little embarrassed. "I think we should enjoy the ride while it lasts because trust me, this will be the only pregnancy we'll have."

Stephen chuckled "We never know, you might break a pot of sex pollen again." He teased and you giggled cupping his face in your hand.

"You can keep dreaming." You gave him another kiss on the lips, this time longer and then whispered. "I love you so much."

He smiled "I love you too, honey. More than anything."

You sighed and then pulled away gently standing up. "We need to start the day. I have so much work at the office today and you promised Wong that you would take care of the training at Kamar Taj today and he doesn't allow delays."

Stephen sighed "I don't know what got into me to accept subjecting myself to this. Those students are all idiots and besides it should be a crime to have to work on a Monday morning."

"Don't let Defender hear you talking like that about his students and please behave yourself there." You almost begged as you bent down to pick up your panties from the floor and then pointed to the bed where a dark stain indicated how wet you had let the gray sheets. "You take care of that since you like it so much."

He smiled broadly "No problem."

Stephen took a few minutes before getting into the shower with you and although your body gave signs that it was ready for a second round, you finished your shower quickly knowing that you didn't have the time to start anything else. He finished showering and stood next to you at the sink and both of you brushed your teeth in silence. You loved that. The intimacy of doing mundane and routine things together made you feel life was worth living.

 He quickly combed his hair and applied some deodorant and left leaving you there finishing your makeup. When you left the bathroom heading towards the closet to get dressed he was already dressed in his boots and blue robes and Cloaky opened the door and clung to his shoulders. You smiled as you watched the scene and contemplated the beauty of Supreme dressed like that. It was a sight you never got used to. Suddenly he wasn’t just your boyfriend anymore, he was the Master of the mystic arts, a powerful and feared sorcerer.

You were struggling to button the buttons of your suit skirt when he came closer and hugged you from behind, palming your belly completely unaware of the thoughts in your mind "Tummy is starting to show." He said, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You felt your heart fluttering in your chest, but sighed in frustration anyway "I'm losing all of my clothes."

He smirked like it wasn’t a big deal "Then you need to buy new clothes. Why don't you invite your girl friends to come with you? Take my card."

You turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to being able to look in his eyes. "Are you seriously offering your card to go shopping with my friends? What if I get a little out of control?"

He pulled you closer and kissed you sweetly. "That's why I took the job with the Avengers, honey, to give you whatever the fuck you want." He moved his fingers, and his credit card materialized between his index and middle fingers.

You smirked, taking it. "Okay, since you insist."

“I do.” He kissed you again and then sighed, "I really need to go now or I'll have to listen to Wong complain for the rest of the day."

"Poor students, they don't know what's in store for them today." You teased.

"Are you kidding? I'm the best thing they could have. I'll try to put something inside those useless heads."

You almost rolled your eyes, but instead went back to your herculean task of finding something that fit you and that you could wear to work.

...

In the afternoon you honored Stephen's wish and arranged to meet Natasha and Yelena at the mall. It wasn't often that you had a good excuse to spend money and it wasn't easy for your Avenger friends to have time for frivolous things, but everything seemed to fit perfectly and there you were trying on your thousandth piece of clothing - a hideous maternity jumpsuit that Yelena had made you try on just so she could tease you. The extravagant color and floral print were the worst part, but everything else didn't help and made you look like a birthday cake.

"Ridiculous," you complained as Yelena took a picture and quickly typed on her phone.

"Don't send that picture to anyone, Yelena!" You almost yelled. But it was too late. She lifted her phone, shaking it in her hand while laughing, and you heard your own phone and Natasha's buzzing simultaneously, indicating a message had arrived.

"I just wanted to liven things up a little on our Avengers WhatsApp group. God knows everything's been too quiet." She said.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Tony's parties. It’s been quite a while." Nat confessed.

You sighed in defeat, closing the curtain of the dressing room again and getting rid of the hideous jumpsuit. You looked at the other pieces you hadn't tried on yet. Up until then, you had opted for formal clothes: pants, skirts, blouses, shirts. Clothes you could wear to work, but now there were some special pieces you wanted to try. One in particular had given you ideas for a special night and you decided to try it on right away. It was a short black dress with white polka dots and a full skirt made of tulle. It had a wonderful V-neckline that filled out your pregnancy swollen breasts very well, the fit of the skirt hid your protruding belly well and the long sleeves gave it a certain elegance, but at the same time the polka dot print made it youthful and casual. A smile played on your lips when you imagined the Stephens seeing you in that dress.

"Is everything okay in there?" You heard Nat's voice and cleared your throat opening the curtain so the girls could take a look.

"I think I like this one." You said excitedly and both of their jaws dropped.

"You look amazing!" Nat exclaimed and Yelena nodded in agreement.

"The lactation god did a great job on your boobs, and you're still in the beginning." Yelena stated making you blush and turn to look at your cleavage in the mirror. Your breasts were really big and the neckline of the dress wasn’t modest at all.

"Do you think it's too much?" You asked gesturing to the dress.

Nat shook her head. "It's perfect. I just think it might trigger a jealousy crisis." She teased.

"Wear it for a special night. Their birthday is coming up. That's reason enough to wear the dress and celebrate with all three of them at the same time." Yelena suggested, to which Nat groaned in frustration.

"She's so greedy! Most of us are struggling to get someone worthwhile and she has three!"

You smirked, looking back at yourself in the mirror. "Technically, I have one. I was just lucky enough to have two extra versions of him fall into my universe." You turned to the side to take a look at how the dress looked from the back and concluded, "But you're right, Yelena. That dress screams special occasion. Speaking of which, I have no idea what I'm going to do for their birthday. I need suggestions."

"I'm begging for a reason to throw a party." Yelena complained, but Nat immediately corrected her, "I don't think that's what Y/n has in mind. Besides, his birthday isn't until the end of November and we need a party before that if we don't want to go crazy with boredom."

"We don't need a reason to throw a party. We just need to suggest it to Tony and he'll do the rest." You said, closing the dressing room curtain again and putting the polka dot dress in the pile of clothes you had decided to buy.

Your shopping spree also yielded two more dresses, several pairs of shoes, lingerie and pajamas and a beautiful bag that you didn't have the heart to leave behind. You ended the afternoon in a beautiful coffee shop where you allowed yourself to give in to your pregnancy desires and ate a generous slice of red velvet with a pink lemonade. Overall, it was a lovely afternoon and you were so happy that it was impossible to express it in words. You no longer had any doubts that the unexpected pregnancy was being one of the best things that had ever happened to you.

...

Defender Strange was a man on a mission. Literally. He was returning to the Kamar Taj after a week away from home on a miserable mission that had not only left him bruised and tired but had also proven to be much more difficult than he had expected, and had a less than pleasant outcome with two seriously injured masters. He left them at the Metro General Hospital in the care of Christine Palmer, who by now was more than used to dealing with this type of situation, and then opened a portal to Kamar Taj where he met with Wong and gave a quick report on the outcome of the mission.

Finally, he thought to himself, he could go home. That was, in fact, his mission for the day: To finish everything as soon as possible and go home to the arms of the woman he loved and who happened to be pregnant with his child. He smiled to himself at the mere thought.

Sometimes he had to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming when he thought about it. For someone who had lost everyone he knew and ended up alone in an unknown universe, he was doing pretty well. Much more than well, in fact. Defender Strange's life was perfect, even considering that he was sharing the love of his life with two other versions of himself.

He would be lying if he said that it bothered him after all this time. Sure, he didn't like the fighting, Supreme's constant teasing, or Stephen's passive-aggressive jealousy, but overall, he was used to that life, and he was happy with it. More than he ever imagined he could be.

When he opened the portal to the main hall of the Sanctum he was greeted by the characteristic silence that indicated that no one was home. Stephen and Supreme were probably sorting something out with the Avengers and you hadn't come home yet. He sighed, feeling relief overcoming him and the tiredness finally setting in, and then he went upstairs to his room, took a long, hot shower and put on comfortable clean clothes for the first time in a week. He ended up in the kitchen looking for something to eat, but gave up when he realized he would have to cook and decided to order food from his favorite Italian restaurant. It was Wednesday, but he didn't care, he was more than convinced that he deserved it for having dealt with hostile forces that wanted to cause harm to the world once again. The bruises and cuts all over his body, the result of the battle, proved it.

He ended up sprawled on the couch with a book and a cup of tea while waiting for the food to arrive and that was how you found him when you got home. He was distracted enough in his reading to not hear the sound of the door, but your sweet voice made his heart flutter.

"Hi there!" You greeted, leaving your purse and keys on the counter in the hallway and heading towards him. And god, you looked beautiful. A week without seeing you and somehow everything seemed different. Your belly, under a navy blue suit skirt and a white linen shirt, seemed to be bigger, your breasts seemed bigger too and there was a glow to your skin that definitely had something to do with the pregnancy. There was no way it was all in his head. You looked stunning.

"Thought you'd only be back by weekend." You said, coming closer and he sat on the couch, opening his arms to welcome you in them. "Look at those cuts! I hate to see you hurt, Stephen."

He sighed, feeling the delicate touch of your hand on his face and smiled reassuringly, "I'm fine. I also thought we'd only make it by the weekend, but we were lucky. Well, at least some of us were."

You frowned, letting yourself be pulled to sit on his lap. "What happened?"

"Two masters got seriously injured. I left them at the hospital and Christine said they both needed surgery."

"That's terrible." You replied, biting your lower lip and trying to hide it, but Stephen could clearly see your discomfort at the mention of Dr. Palmer's name.

"What is it?" He pressed and you gave in.

"You and Christine together. I know it's silly, especially given the circumstances, but I can't help but feel a bit  jealous."

He knew. In a way he even found it cute. "Don't be silly.” He said pinching your cheek. You have no idea how eager I was to come home and have you like this in my arms. Christine never meant anything to me, and this one I barely know."

You nodded we a sweet pout. "I know. I hope your friends will be okay."

He smiled, caressing your back absently. "Me too. Now, tell me, how are you? I don't know, you seem different from the last time we saw each other." He instinctively moved his hand down to your belly. Deep down, Stephen knew it was too early for you to feel anything yet. You were thirteen weeks pregnant and from what he had read, the baby's first movements wouldn't start until the sixteenth week, but he was anxious. Sometimes he seemed even more anxious than you.

You cupped his hand gently on top of your belly. "I'm fine. We're fine. The nausea has pretty much stopped now, but I still feel different all the time. I know it's the hormones, but I feel so needy and on top of that I'm hungry all the time and I've been craving sweets even more than usual." You confessed, pouting adorably, which made him smile.

"I think everything is normal then, and to be honest, I don't mind if you gain a few extra pounds." He teased, knowing full well that you would feel outraged by the comment.

"But I do mind!" You immediately shot back. "My clothes don't fit anymore and I'm not coping. Well, I admit I liked the fact that Supreme let me shop with my friends his card last week."

Defender chuckled in disbelief. "He really did that? How naive of him. Tell me at least you took advantage of the opportunity."

You nodded. "Very much. I even took the opportunity to buy you guys a gift. I thought I'd use it on a special night when the four of us are together."

Stephen moaned involuntarily. It was useless to try to pretend that he didn't love your nights together. He always had the most intense orgasms watching you with the other Stephens.

He lifted your chin and kissed you gently. "And what about... are they still happening?" He asked watching your face blush in delight. You knew exactly what he was talking about, but you just nodded. He had to insist on a precise answer. He couldn't stop thinking about it during all the days he was away from home. He needed to know what chances he had of being rewarded with it that night. "Last time you said you couldn't finish without it happening. Still the same?"

"Yes. It's a nightmare. I don't know why you guys like it so much!"

He smirked kissing you again this time a bit harder and feeling his body responding to the desire and the lack he felt for you with a prominent erection that he didn't try to hide. On the contrary, he took your hand and brought it to his hip making you feel it over the pajama pants he was wearing.

"Because it's not a common thing, baby. Most women can't squirt, it's something you see in movies, but we're lucky enough to have at home every night now." He explained, squeezing your hand around his painfully hard erection and finishing, "Feel what just talking about it does to me." He said burying his face in the crook of your neck and giving you pulse point a little kiss.

You felt your skin prickling, but hold his head in your hands making him look at you and nodded to make sure you understood. You cupped his cheek and pulled him to your lips and his lips parted instinctively, letting you dominate the kiss and an almost embarrassing moan escaped his throat, making you chuckle, but you broke the kiss and, against his will, got up from his lap.

"I'm very flattered that I got you so excited without any effort, but I need a shower and food first, baby."

"That's fair enough." Stephen agreed, reluctantly letting go of your hand. "I ordered food. It should be here any minute now."

You nodded, biting your lip. "Are you coming with me?"

Oh, he wanted it. But he knew it wasn't a good idea if all you wanted was company in the shower. He needed a lot more than that. "I won't let you shower if I go up now. But trust me, baby, I'll have you all to myself tonight. I deserve this much." He said, making his intentions for the night very clear before the other Stephens arrived. Defender wasn't usually jealous, and he didn't mind sharing, in fact he quite enjoyed it, but tonight, after a week without you, he didn't feel inclined to do so. Your squirting would be all for him.

"Okay. I'll be back in a minute." You said giggling as if you could read his mind.

The food arrived ten minutes later and he set up a tray for you to eat in the living room while watching TV. There was a new serial killer show on Netflix that had just been released and he knew you would enjoy watching it with him because it was your kind of thing, so he opened a bottle of red for him and got you a can of Coke, turned the lights down low and waited impatiently for you to come downstairs to join him.

Defender valued good taste. The table set beautifully, candles and all, but sometimes it was nice to keep things more informal and you liked that. In fact, he had a feeling that it was that informality that made you like your Stephen so much. Christ, at first, he wanted to die when he heard you refer to the Stephen from your universe that way. He was more used to it now, but the jealousy was there, even if he didn't show it as much as Supreme. Actually, he was great at not showing when things were bothering him and that was more of a flaw than a talent, but luckily for him, you were great at reading him.

He was finishing organizing everything when you came down wearing a tiny baby doll made of red satin and black lace. You smiled from ear to ear when you saw that you would be having dinner in the living room - just as he had predicted.

"I forgot to mention that I bought this too." You informed him, biting your lip and turning a little so he could see the whole thing. The top was made entirely of black lace, the neckline was generous and your pregnant breasts filled it out wonderfully. The shorts made of red satin had a high waist, but were short enough that he could see half of your cheeks adorned by the black lace hem.

"So, what do you think?" You asked, approaching him and he opened his arms, wrapping you in a tight hug, but his hands were quick to go down to your ass and give it a little squeeze.

"I think you look gorgeous, but that's nothing new. You always look beautiful to me." He said, kissing you sweetly.

"Hmm, always a flatterer. I love that about you, Defender Strange." You confessed between kisses, but then insisted, "But I'm specifically referring to my little outfit. You know I bought it with you in mind, don't you?"

Oh, he knew.  "Of course I do. Black and red.” He said with a proud smirk in his lips. “It's perfect. Very sexy, but delicate. Just like you. And the fact that you bought it for me using Supreme's money makes everything even better."

You chuckled, "It wasn't intentional! I just bought it. I didn't think about it that way when I did." You defended yourself, and then pointed out, "But he said I could buy whatever I wanted so... I kind of went crazy there. I bought a gorgeous Chanel purse too."

He laughed softly, and then lifted your chin to kiss you again, this time with more intensity, more tongue. Fuck, he missed you so much. Having you in his arms like that after the week he had was like heaven, but as a reminder that your food was waiting and getting cold, your stomach growled surprisingly loud which made both of you giggle.

"Food first." He gave in.

"I guess so. After all, now I'm eating for two." You said and he instinctively put his hand to your belly. It was still tiny, but a week had made a difference. It felt like a little ball right below your belly button that he could cup with his hand. It was firm and soft at the same time and feeling it made him feel in an inexplicable way. It was as if when he put his hand on your belly the pregnancy stopped being something abstract and became concrete. Real.

"I love it. I love our baby." He said resting his forehead on yours and watching you close your eyes and practically purr for him.

"I love it too. I feel so blessed to have it. This little part of you inside of me. Sometimes I think my heart is going to burst with joy."

He kissed your forehead lingeringly. "That's exactly how I'm feeling right now." He confessed, but then pulled away gently and sat on the couch. "Come on, let's eat."

You ate slowly while watching and commenting on the events on screen. You were particularly disappointed with the story, although you insisted that you were enjoying it.

"I thought they were serial killers like Jeffrey Dahmer, but they're the victims." You blurted out and then downed the rest of your Coke. "I mean, I'm enjoying the story, but I'd rather see serial killers killing people."

Stephen couldn't help but laugh. "Do you have any idea how creepy that sentence is?"

You smiled, placing your plate and glass on the coffee table. "Don't worry, baby, I would never kill you."

That made him laugh. He finished his glass and refilled it for the third time. "I appreciate that." He said, taking another long sip of his red. Defender didn't usually drink, but on some nights he would allow himself a few glasses to relax and that was exactly what he need most that night.

"They're kinda cute, though. Are we supposed to really hate them?" You asked, moving closer and snuggling close to him. He wrapped his arms around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder, giving you a little kiss on the top of your head. You were cute. Everything about you was so ridiculously adorable that Stephen found himself wondering how it was possible for someone to be so perfect. And he knew you weren't perfect because no one is, but even your flaws were adorable, even when you pissed him off you managed to make him love you more and more.

You interrupted his train of thought when you turned your head to look at him and caught him admiring you.

"I thought you’d fell asleep. You got quiet." You said and he smiled.

"I was thinking about how much I love you, and how I adore everything you do, everything you say." He admitted watching you blush subtly "And I think we can continue watching tomorrow because now I'm going to take you to my room and I'm going to make love to you over and over until you squirt all over me."

You giggled watching him steal the remote and turn off the TV.

"Sounds really good to me." You said.

Stephen practically dragged you to his room. He was counting the minutes until he could finally touch you the way he wanted and even though he was extremely anxious, he started by closing the door, gently holding your hand and directing you to his bed. There, he touched your face and kissed you. Your lips parted slowly allowing him to deepen the kiss and a sweet hum escaped your throat as he felt his chest warm with the sound.

You had been together for a long time, long enough for him to have gotten used to the feeling of having you in his arms, but still every time it made him feel like it was the first time.

His hands went down from your face to the sides of your body and he found himself groping at you, squeezing every inch of your waist, your hips, your buttocks, literally feeling you with his hands and instinctively grinding his hips against you like a fucking teenager. But that was how you made him feel sometimes, like he was totally inexperienced. Stephen had never loved before. Not the way he loved you.

But he was lucky enough to be sure that you were as crazy about him as he was about you. You had to be, there was no other explanation for you wanting three versions of him and besides, he could see it in every gesture, every word and more than that, in the physical reactions of your body when you were together. Like now, the way your breathing was faster with every hungry kiss you exchanged, the way your hands imitated his and searched his body and pulled him closer until you were glued to each other and the sweet and beautiful moans that escaped your throat as he delighted himself in you.

Impatiently, Stephen allowed himself to undress you. He started with the top of your little baby doll. His trembling fingers pulled the hem of your top up as you raised both arms allowing him to take it off. Immediately, he cupped one of your breasts and without holding back he lowered himself to take a nipple in his mouth. You moaned loudly and your hand grabbed his hair.  He could stay like that for hours, fondling your breast and sucking on your nipple, but after a minute he resisted the temptation and returned to his task.

"It's always a very difficult task to deviate the attention from them." He confessed vocalizing his thoughts, which made you giggle and instinctively grab your breasts and start playing with them.

"They're more sensitive now." You said biting your lower lip "And bigger. I like them like that."

He smirked, holding your chin with his index finger and thumb. "And you think I didn't notice that? Baby, that was the first thing I noticed when I laid eyes on you."

That made you giggle even harder, and the sound filled his ears like music. He continued with his mission, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down in one go, helping you get rid of them and finally be naked for him. His lips searched for yours, but they didn't stop there. He continued giving little kisses on the side of your neck and on your shoulders and continued down until he reached your belly. He basked himself there, giving little kisses and cupping the little appendage with his hand, caressing it and trying to get used to everything it made him feel.

Stephen always thought that fatherhood would be something almost sacred, and indeed it was, but somehow he felt so dirty feeling his cock throb while he had his hand on your belly. Was that something normal? Did all fathers feel that way about their pregnant women?

"Shit." He cursed, reaching for his cock and squeezing it lightly to get some relief. "Baby, you have no idea how hard I am right now. It's almost painful."

You smiled proudly at him, tangling your fingers in his hair. "You're the one who's prolonging this."

"Because I want to worship you. You're like a goddess to me. I need to worship you first."

That made you blush and in a way it was cute to think that you were still shy around him. "And I'm still learning how the pregnancy makes me feel. Is it weird to get horny because of it?" He genuinely asked.

You shook your head. "Not really.  I found out it's quite common."

"The others..." He began, but you answered him immediately.

"Yes. They feel that way too." You replied smiling. "And so do I. I had a discovering recently with Supreme..." You stopped wondering if you should continue or not and he noticed.

"Tell me about it." He encouraged. Deep down he liked to hear you talk about your moments with the other Stephens. He even stopped finding it weird with time.

He watched you blush before answering.

"It was silly, but he called me mommy and it kind of made me... well, it made me feel something."

Defender smiled holding your chin "A beautiful mommy indeed." He teased and kissed you softly. You hummed in his lips, but placed both hands on his chest gently pushing him away and taking control for yourself.

"Let me take these clothes off." You said firmly grabbing the fabric of his shirt and pulling it off, leaving him only in his pants. You bit your bottom lip, and he watched with some pride the way your eyes feasted on him. Unable to contain yourself, you brought your hand to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his warm skin. Your fingertips played with his nipples, making them hard and sensitive, and he couldn't help but tilt his head back and let out a soft moan when you took one of them into your mouth, sucking slowly and running the tip of your tongue over it.

Defender bit his lip hard to contain another moan when you moved to the other nipple, adding your teeth to the sum and you tsked, raising your eyes to look at him. "Let me hear you. I like to hear the sweet sounds you make, baby."

He nodded, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you back to his lips and begging. "Take me in your mouth, baby. I can't wait any longer."

You smiled mischievously at him, "Feeling impatient, are we?"

He nodded, "Please."

"Get comfy then." You asked and he sat up with his back supported by the pile of pillows. He watched as you opened and closed the nightstand drawer and tied your hair in a ponytail. When you turned your attention back to him, his cock was already throbbing under his pants and impatiently he snapped his fingers, getting rid of what was left of his clothes. You smirked but said nothing, just positioned yourself between his legs and took him in your hands. Stephen loved your touch. He loved that your hands were small and delicate and yet had such a firm and strong grip. He watched in wonder as you let a string of saliva fall from your lips to his tip and then slowly pumped him, making him wet. His eyes closed and he hit his head against the headboard. "Oh, that's right. So good."

You spat on his cock again and then took him into your mouth gently, swirling your tongue around his head slowly as your hands slid up and down. You knew exactly what worked for him. You knew he liked it slow, gentle and with the smallest of touches you could turn him into a moaning mess. You knew him so well.

"Fuck baby, little mouth feels so good." He praised and you hummed happily. One of the first things Stephen discovered about you was that you liked to be praised, and he never failed to use that to his advantage. "Such a good mommy taking my cook so perfectly." He said testing the word with you and you literally moaned into his cock.

You took him out of your mouth to breathe for a second and then went back to work determined to undo him completely. You took him all in your mouth this time going all the way down, taking him as much as you could without gagging and increasing the speed. The wet sound of his cock in your mouth was delicious and the sight of you on all fours sucking him was enough to make any man blow too quickly, but he was holding back as hard as he could.

"Baby, it feels so good, but I have to ask you to stop, don't wanna cum yet." He warned you.

But you took his words as a challenge apparently and even taking it out of your mouth you continued stroking slowly and took one of his balls in your mouth instead, sucking it delicately and making him see stars. He moaned loudly grabbing your hair harder than he should have, but you hummed in satisfaction and he knew very well that you were the one in control and he loved it.

"You want me to cum, don't you, baby? That's how you like it."

You hummed positively and he let go of the control indulging in his pleasure and taking his cock in his hand giving it a few strokes while you took turns sucking his balls. Unable to control himself, he held his cock by the base and lightly slapped it on your face. "Take it back in your mouth, love. Suck hard and make me cum. I know that's what you want. Wanna feel my warm cum in your mouth, right? Tell me you're going to swallow all of it."

You smiled satisfied with his dirty talk. Defender wasn't really into that, but that night you had made him extremely horny, and he just couldn't contain himself. Luckily you liked that, and he could see it in the way you rubbed your thighs together. He couldn't touch you, but he knew you were soaking wet, and he couldn't wait to be between your legs.

"Oh yeah" He moaned just from the thought and the delicious suction of your lips wrapped around his length. You twisted your hand at the base where you couldn't take him and started working with your tongue the way only you knew how to do and that made him buck his hips against your mouth to go even deeper. "Fuck yeah, baby. Don't stop. Just keep going. Keep sucking my dick just like that. Feels so good. So fucking good."

You moaned into his cock again and continued what you were doing masterfully and when he realized it he was moving your head on his dick completely lost in his own pleasure while feeling his balls getting tight. "Gonna cum, baby. Wanna take it in your mouth?" He asked, but before you could even answer he was spilling himself in your mouth. He couldn't help it.

"Oh shit! Take it baby, take all of it. F-fuck yeah."

And that's exactly what you did. Taking him proudly in your mouth without wasting any of it. You sucked him until he finished giving you the last drop and then took him out of your mouth with a proud little smile.

"Delicious" You praised crawling to his arms and kissing him gently, but he was far from satisfied and in one quick move he laid you down on the bed and came on top of you spreading your legs with his hips and kissing you hard.

"You're amazing, do you know that?" He said making you giggle.

"Well, if you say so..." But he interrupted you with another kiss, bringing two fingers into your folds.

"Shit, look at this! Aren't you ashamed of being all wet like this just from having my cock in your mouth?"

You bit your lip and shook your head.

"No? I know. You're dirty, aren't you, baby?"

"Just for you." You replied and he muffled a giggle of his own on your neck making your skin prickle with the sound and the rubbing of his beard in your sensitive skin. He penetrated you with his fingers gently making you moan and nibbled on your earlobe.

"For me and Stephen and Supreme." He teased while moving his fingers in and out of you.

"Yes" You confirmed nodding your head watching him kneel between your legs and smear the tip of his already completely hard cock with your slick and direct it at your entrance.

"Then tell me how much you want me, baby. Ask me to fuck you the way you ask them to."

You moaned lifting your hips desperately searching for him. "Please, Steph, fuck me. Want you so badly. Need your cock inside me. My body is filled with this need for you. Please."

Stephen moaned loudly entering you with a single hard and deep thrust and you wrapped your legs around his hips, your nails immediately biting into the skin of his back. It didn't matter that you had three Stephens, it was as if your body never got used to the intensity of pleasure they gave you and Defender loved that. He love how desperate you always were for him.

Desperately, he sought your lips and kissed you with the same voracity with which he thrusted against you. He was yours and he loved letting you take control, but that night there was something in him that sought dominance, he needed to take you, mark you, exert his power over you in a way that would satisfy that urge for possession and that's what he did. Thrust after thrust, barely letting you breathe between the heated and hungry kisses while his hands sought your body, be it your breasts, your thighs, it didn't matter, he just needed to grope and squeeze every inch of your body.

You didn't seem to mind his sudden change in behavior, in fact he knew that you liked it, that you felt as much pleasure in being dominated as you felt in dominating. For that reason it didn't take long for him to feel your walls fluttering around him. You were close.

"Oh baby, I love it when you squeeze me like that, but it makes it hard for me to hold back. I don't want to cum yet."

You moaned, searching for his lips and kissing him softly, giving a light bite to his lower lip. "I can't help it. Cock feels so good."

He smiled, but against his will he pulled out slowly to which you protested with a whimper.

"Turn around. Get on your hands and knees for me." He asked and that was exactly what you did, hoping he would penetrate you again, but Stephen had other plans. He was dangerously close to the limit and wanted to make it last so instead of giving you his cock, he used three fingers, slowly penetrating you with them and increasing the pace as your hips moved against his hand and your moans got louder.

"Oh shit, Stephen, feels so good. Oh god, don't stop!" You begged and he smirked in satisfaction despite the familiar discomfort in the nerves of his hand. He was determined to ignore the pain caused by the incurable injury to his hands if the reward was to see you completely lose yourself in your pleasure like that while you moved against his fingers and moaned pornographically.

Defender had never liked porn exactly for the exaggerated moans, but when you moaned for him like that it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in the world because he knew you weren’t pretending.

"Fuck baby... gonna make me cum. I can't..." You whined but he continued his assault on your hole, finger fucking you with deliberate desperation and gave your ass a light squeeze.

"Don't hold back, baby. You know what I want. Give it to me." He teased and your legs trembled as your walls contracted around his fingers again. You liked it when he talked to you like that and so he kept coaxing you to reach your climax.

"Come on baby, let go for me. You're going to wet the bed for me, aren't you? You know I want it, I've been thinking about it all this time. Be a good mommy and squirt for me."

And so you did it. You moaned even louder this time and your legs shook with the intensity of your orgasm as hot liquid squirted from your pussy wetting the bed and coating his hand beautifully.

"There you go. So beautiful, baby." He praised removing his fingers from inside you and taking them to his mouth, sucking on them until he tasted all of that wonderful nectar. "And you still ask why we like it so much."

You just moaned softly, letting your legs give way and lying face down on the mattress. But he still wasn't satisfied with you and without warning he entered you again going deep and staying there, feeling you contract around him, squeezing him and enveloping him in your wonderful warmth.

"I never get tired of being inside you, baby. You're so warm and so wet. Feels so good, oh shit." He moaned while fucking you with slow and sensual thrusts now.

You moaned against the mattress, "Steph... please. It's too much."

"No baby don't say you're tired already. I still need you." He begged grabbing the headboard with one hand and continued thrusting slowly but maintaining the same intensity, seeking his release with an almost primitive determination. He could feel his balls tightening, the familiar heat rising up his hips and accumulating in the pit of his stomach. He was close. All he needed was a little push.

"Talk to me. Make me cum." He found himself begging as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the delicious scent of your hair as he fought for air, breathing heavily.

You moaned softly, face pressed against the mattress. "F-fuck baby, you fuck me so good. Tell me you're gonna cum inside me. Gonna make me yours."

Defender closed his eyes and focused on your voice as his thrusts became more erratic. He was so close now.

"I know you missed me, baby. All these days working and knowing the other Stephens were fucking me at home, but now you're here. Mark me as yours, fill me with your cum and leave me dripping, smelling like you so they know."

Defender came. An almost guttural groan escaped his lips as he forced himself against you and filled you with his seed. He had so much to give you that he was sure if you weren't already pregnant, he would have knocked you up. And the idea was delicious.

"S-shit... take it baby. Oh, so fucking good. My baby feels so fucking good." He rasped.

You were surprised by Defender's dominant behavior, but you couldn't deny that you had loved every second of it. Apparently, the pregnancy was doing things with all of you. It took him a minute to pull out and roll over on the bed and when he did you immediately snuggled into his arms. His cheeks were slightly pink probably from realizing everything he had said and done that night.

"Are you okay?" He asked stroking your arm slowly up and down. "I was a little rough, wasn't I?"

You nodded "I'm fine. I like it."

The corner of his lips curved into a smile. "You did this to me. The pregnancy made me..."

"I know." You said cupping his cheek. Your faces so close that you could feel his warm breath on your cheeks. "That's what it does to us. It must be the hormones, I don't know, but I'm enjoying it as much as you guys are."

He cocked his head up to kiss you and you felt yourself melting in his arms. His gentle and caring way showing again.

"Let's just enjoy the ride. We still have six months of this." You said finally.

He hummed contentedly, "Let's hope they pass really slowly. I'm definitely not in a rush."

“Neither do I.”

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

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[heliads]

you're going to have to shut this down - steve rogers

You grew up with Steve Rogers in the 1940s and froze with him until the present day, too. When he leaves you after killing Thanos to return to the '40s, it's the biggest betrayal of your life. If there was a way to ever see him again, it would require the crossing of many timelines, something you'd know nothing about. The TVA might, though.

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a/n: back from the dead! who would have thought (not me). who can say how long. enjoy xoxo

You join the TVA because you have nothing else to do. It’s not a bad gig, all things considered. It makes about as much sense as life normally does for you, which is to say, not at all. You’re getting better about understanding the splashier technology, the speedier cars, the altered accents. Not everything is going to seem like it’s fresh out of the 1940s, because only you are. It’s been several years since they got you out of the ice. By all accounts, you should have settled in a long time ago.

And you have, honestly. You did a good job of learning fast and moving on. Still, all it takes is one odd word of slang you don’t understand or a reference to a world-altering event that you never heard of to shove you two steps back instead of forward. You never expected it to be easy, trying to live in the new century. You just didn’t think you’d have to do it alone, either.

The Avengers helped. Despite the infighting and the many false retirements and the deaths, that job helped put you together more than anything else. Everyone was strange there, so no one was. Even the person out of time. 

Maybe that’s why the TVA reached out after it was all over– they knew you needed a fresh start. A new team, too, one that didn’t really care about your understanding of any one particular timeline. It was the perfect fit. Why not risk your life for someone else all over again?

It had made sense at the time. After Thanos was defeated, you’d lost your purpose. The Avengers didn’t technically disband, but enough of the original core had been lost to death and retirement and better things. You could sense a new generation rising up to take the mantle, and, not wanting to go through the same cycle of learning new faces just to lose them again, you stepped aside.

Retirement wasn’t good for you. All that time on your own left you twitchy, waiting for something to do, someone to see. You suppose it wouldn’t have been a problem at all if it weren’t for one specific absence, but that’s just the way it goes sometimes. Maybe you should have learned a long time ago to never bet your happiness on Steve Rogers, because when he left, you felt like you’d lost everything.

Even after all this time, you still can’t fathom why he did it, why he left you behind. You had grown up in the 1940s by his side, next door neighbors and family friends. Your parents knew his, and died around the same time his did, too. You’d been inseparable for as long as you could remember. You thought it was the worst pain in your life when he and Bucky went to war, so you followed, taking on a position as a medic in their regiment.

Steve had been absolutely furious that you’d put yourself into harm’s way like that, but you didn’t care. Everything was good so long as you were still together, and for a while, it was. Sure, it took you a while to remember how to act normally after he underwent his Captain America transformation, but he was still Steve, your Steve. And that was okay.

You were almost starting to believe in fantasies that you’d be able to make it back to Brooklyn one day, and then the cards stopped falling in your favor. First, you were sent to hunt down Zola, which was doomed from the start. You’d lost Bucky from the side of the train, which was the beginning of the end. Steve was spiraling and you knew it. It should have come as no surprise that he’d plunge himself into whatever danger he could find to try and keep his mind off the loss. It should have come as no surprise that you’d go with him.

However, neither of you expected to find yourselves on a plane headed into the ocean. It felt fitting somehow, dying with Steve. Bucky was gone anyway. You might as well join him. It was cold enough that you didn’t feel the water entering your lungs. You knew Steve’s hand was in yours even after you lost the sensation in your fingers. You felt him with you even after you closed your eyes for the final time.

Only, it wasn’t the final time. You woke up after what seemed like a matter of hours and ended up being several decades. The new century was full of trouble, but you and Steve were determined to run headfirst into it. You can still remember listening to the new music with him, quizzing each other on current events, doing everything under the sun together in the name of embracing modernity.

Even if it felt wrong to be so suddenly transplanted out of your normal world and into this bright, fast-paced future, some part of you was glad for it. You’ve had a secret crush on Steve since you were ten years old and starry-eyed for the boy next door. What did you lose by leaving the 1940s, anyway– sickness, the war, significantly worse water quality? Steve needed you here more than he ever needed you there. There was so much more in this modern world that would bring the two of you together, and you were delighted for it.

You were delighted, that is. You had assumed that Steve was, too. He certainly seemed like it, always down to visit a new museum or take a trip out of the city. He’d been happy with you. You were certain about it.

Yet, years after you first woke up together in a strange new world, he traveled back in time to return the Infinity Stones and came back as an old man who had already lived his life back in the 1940s. You weren’t there when it happened. Steve had actually sent you away, back to New York, so you could monitor the sites where the transfer of the Stones would take place to see if anything went wrong in the future. You’ll always wonder if he did that on purpose, to make sure you didn’t come with him, or if he really was worried about something as mundane as the Stones after all.

In the end, you’ll never know. Steve never told you about his plan to go back. You’re certain that Bucky was aware of it, even if he denies it. You saw the look on his face when Bucky returned from the job alone and told you that Steve had made his choice. He wasn’t surprised or shocked like you. He was sad, but accepting, because he already knew.

It was the worst betrayal of your life. You told Steve everything except the fact that you love him, and he left without telling you a single goodbye. Somehow, somewhere along the line you had walked together all your lives, Steve decided that he would rather live and die in the past without you than face the future you’d been building since they took you out of the ice. You’ve tried to remember moments in which he wasn’t happy, when you could have seen the signs and known that Steve was going to leave, but you can’t. Steve never seemed to have a problem with the modern world until he left it. It makes no sense, and so the awful mystery consumes you whole.

It would be one thing to retire from the Avengers with Steve by your side, just like always. Now, though, you’re losing not just your main activity but the last vestige of your heart. Bucky is your friend, close to family, but he’s not Steve and never will be. You’ve tried to spend time with him, but every time you see Bucky, you’re haunted by a third presence that should be there yet isn’t. You haven’t talked in a while. It’s probably better that way, anyway.

Luckily, you weren’t left to your own devices forever. One lonely morning, an orange panel of light opened up in front of you, and out of it stepped Loki, who, according to Thor, should have died when Thanos visited. He’d explained briefly how he was still alive, but focused more on offering you a chance to work with the TVA. Without anything better to do but sit around and mope, you’d agreed.

You and Loki have gotten along well for the most part, surprisingly enough. Barring the part where he’d tried to invade New York, you’ve come in contact with him through Thor several times and gotten along through a shared sarcastic sense of humor and biting wit. You’re probably one of the Avengers Loki tolerates the most, a title you bear with no small semblance of pride. Loki had needed someone to advise him on a variant, and he’d gone to you.

It’s a good job for someone out of time. The timelines all converge and diverge in mysterious ways, so who could truly say what’s current or out-of-date? You help Loki and the other TVA officers in maintaining the timeline. Slowly, you settle in, and you stop thinking about going back to your usual timeline. Why bother, anyway? There’s nothing left for you there. Bucky has moved on. Steve is gone. Your family passed on decades ago, and your friends in the Avengers are dead or busy. It’s not a place for you anymore.

Honestly, it’s decent work, all things considered, until you hear about an errant variant totally destroying not just his universe but every one to cross his path. Loki comes bursting into the main office, which isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, but the look in his eyes certainly isn’t. Apparently, there’s some guy who left his universe and started jumping around in many others. He’d stayed in his first place for many years, but made so many major changes that the timeline was all but destroyed. Once this variant took note of the fires he couldn’t put out, he started jumping into other places, doing the same thing in less time.

He’s someone who’ll have to be stopped, to say the least. It’s certainly a cause for concern, but that doesn’t explain the cagey expression on Loki’s face. There’s something he isn’t telling you, to be sure, something big. Something that might make you rethink this assignment entirely.

“Loki,” you say slowly, once the god of mischief has calmed down enough to go from frenetic pacing to merely glaring at the small hologram of Miss Minutes across the room, “What’s really going on here? Who exactly is this variant?”

Loki hesitates, and you know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. This variant isn’t just anyone, is it? No, of course not. That would be too easy, and if you’ve learned anything in your voyages across the timelines, it’s that nothing in any universe is ever easy.

The variant destroying the worlds– it’s Steve. And it’s your Steve specifically, the one who’d decided to leave you to go back in time. It’s the precise version of Steve Rogers from your universe who had abandoned all you’d built to go back and live to old age in the 1940s.

You suck in a harsh breath. “That’s impossible. Steve would never do a thing like that. He saves the universe, he doesn’t destroy it.”

Loki laughs bitterly. “Think again, Y/N. It’s him.”

You shake your head unthinkingly, but as little as you want to even contemplate the idea, you can’t deny that it might be likely. Steve already upset the laws of the multiverse when he went to live his life in the 1940s. Who’s to say what else he might do?

You stand up and join Loki in his pacing. “Don’t go through the usual steps. Bring him here.”

Loki starts to protest, but you silence him with a glance. “Think of it as a favor. You owe me, you know that. I won’t kill him, not yet. Not until I know what’s going on.”

One desk over, Mobius holds up his hands. “Wait, wait. Maybe this Steve is a friend of yours, but he’s still a dangerous variant who is quite literally destroying the fabric of time with every jump he makes. Are you sure that bringing him into the TVA is the best idea?”

You lift a shoulder. “Do you have any other ideas of where to put him?”

Mobius sighs. “No, but I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to like this,” you tell him, “but I need to talk to Steve. Please.”

You look over at Loki hopefully, and feel a crush of relief when you see him caving. “Fine, but the second Rogers tries anything, we’re all over him. We can’t risk the multiverse for one melodramatic walking flag.”

You chuckle in spite of yourself. It’s not a happy sound. “Just let me see what I can do.”

You have no idea what you’ll do with your errant Steve once he gets here. Before that, though, you’re going to have to solve the problem of bringing him here in the first place. If what Loki says is true, Steve is not going to come quietly.

You’re still having trouble wrapping your mind around the whole concept. Steve– your Steve– destroying timelines? Rampaging through the multiverse? It doesn’t even compute in your mind. After all you’ve seen of him, through every decade, in every incarnation, every uniform, he has still been himself at the core. Even when he just came out of the ice. Even when he lost Bucky after Thanos’ snap. Even when you lost the biggest battle of your lives.

Something must have happened to him when he was going back in time, that’s all you can imagine. It’s certainly a better thing to tell yourself, it makes you believe that there was a reason outside his control that he would have left you in the dust. Yes, this must be the fault of traveling through time, and not the simple fact that Steve didn’t want you anymore.

You suit up with the rest, ready to head out and collect your errant Captain. You deliberate over the helmet when Mobius advises you to hide your face in any way possible. He’s had many bad dealings with variants over the years, he claims. No one knows what Steve would do if he saw you.

Face obscured, you walk through a Timedoor to the latest universe Steve has attempted to conquer. It doesn’t take long to find a disturbance; you’ve hardly stepped through the orange portal before you’re greeted with the sound of screaming, the smell of smoke. Buildings are burning. It’s like the world is on fire, and all you can think about is that somehow, Steve caused this.

“We have to move fast,” Mobius urges. “The timeline is unraveling by the second. Find the variant and drag him through a Timedoor as fast as you can.”

You nod your assent and start moving. The easiest thing to do is to head towards the center of the chaos, and so you do, the other TVA agents not far behind you. The smoke gets thicker, all culminating around one building in the center of the city. With a chill, you realize it’s what should be the old Avengers complex, but the letters on the outside still read Stark Tower. This universe might not have gotten the chance to ever get its Avengers, so there is no one to fight off a corrupted Rogers except the TVA, too little and too late.

“I see him,” Loki shouts suddenly, pointing towards a figure moving through the rubble. “Amazing, his hair shines even in a bonfire.”

You don’t have it in you to laugh, but surge forward recklessly. You have to see, you have to know, is it him? Could it be? As you draw closer, you’re certain that you see him, that Steve is here after all this time. A lump rises in your throat utterly unrelated to the pollutants clogging the air. You’ve missed him for so long, and now he’s right in front of you.

Mobius flings out an arm, stopping you short. “Wait,” he says. “He’s a variant, Y/N. Remember that.”

You come thundering back to reality at his words. When you look again, Steve isn’t standing there harmlessly, but holding an unconscious figure in his arms, the head thudding lifelessly against his bicep. This is the real Steve right now, someone you could never recognize.

Two of the TVA agents hurry forward, attempting to cuff him, but Steve brushes them aside easily, even after Loki and Mobius try to enter the fray. Suddenly, the situation looks like you’ll lose it for good, until a wild, terrible idea occurs to you and you shout out to him, “Steve!”

Instantly, Steve’s whole body goes rigid, and he starts scanning the area frantically. “Y/N?” He calls out.

He sounds like a madman, that’s the first thought that rises to your mind. His eyes are wide, his syllables unsettled. You rip off your helmet and Steve turns to you as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Y/N?” He repeats again, this time far more quietly, the words all but disappearing on the smoke-burnt wind.

Steve starts to reach out a grimy hand to you, but one of the TVA agents surges up behind him, jamming a syringe in his neck and knocking him out cold. Cuffs are tightened around his wrists moments later, and Mobius conjures up the requisite Timedoor straight to a holding cell back in the TVA. Everyone starts filing away, but takes you a few more moments to gather yourself together long enough to follow them.

Once back in the halls of the TVA, lights buzzing cheerfully overhead, Loki turns to you at last. “The move with the helmet was risky,” he chastises.

You can’t focus on the rebuke. “He knew me,” you whisper. “He knew me, and he stopped fighting.”

Loki’s lips thin. “That’s not Steve,” he says. “Not the one you know, at least.”

You steal a glance towards the locked door of the cell anyway. “I have to talk to him.”

Loki’s expression shifts from frustrated to simply tired. “I know.”

Still, you’re not blind to the wishes of the TVA, and you let Mobius go in to talk to Steve first. You decide it’s probably best if you’re not the first face he sees, and if you’re not going, Loki would be an even worse choice, so it’s Mobius alone in there with a few guards for security. He barely makes it ten minutes before he comes storming out again, though, obviously frustrated.

You could hear shouting outside the cell and down the hall, but still, you’re curious enough to ask Mobius, “What happened in there?”

Mobius drags an irritated hand through his hair. “Your little hero isn’t really the talking type.”

You frown. “That’s unlike him.”

“All of this is unlike him,” Loki intercedes. “You really couldn’t get through to him, Mobius? That’s startling. Surely there’s some sort of homegrown charm you could pull on him to twist his mind in your favor.”

“That’s just called manners,” Mobius frowns, “but no, I tried. He refuses to talk to anyone but Y/N.”

Loki swings around to stare at you curiously. “Fascinating. He left you and now he won’t even indulge in a friendly conversation with the authorities. What sort of Captain Rogers is this?”

You roll your eyes to hide your growing discomfort. “Forget that. Are we going to give in so fast? Don’t tell me you’re the type to give up on interrogating a suspect after less than half an hour.”

Mobius shrugs. “We might as well let you in. Might learn something, he doesn’t seem inclined to give us anything else otherwise. Why waste more time?”

You might argue a little harder were it not for the fact that you’ve been dying to see Steve since he got here. Before that, really. You’ve been wanting to talk to him since he left you in the first place. Maybe it’s not the best strategy for dealing with a variant, but in your heart, he’s still Steve, and always will be.

Steve’s head is down when you enter the cell, but it flies up the second you take a seat opposite him. He’s sitting down, hands cuffed behind him, but you have no doubt that he could free himself in a heartbeat if he tried.

Still, he isn’t trying. He’s just looking at you, eyes wide, mouth a little agape, as if he really can’t believe it’s you even after demanding to meet. “Y/N?” He asks quietly.

You nod. “Steve.”

Your voice seems harsh in the hollow stillness of the TVA cell. Steve doesn’t flinch, but he might as well; his eyes gain a thin veneer of hurt you’ve known since the forties. 

“You’re not my Y/N, though,” he decides. “You know, I never really believed in the whole multiverse thing. Strange tried to explain it to me after Thanos, but I just thought it was a bunch of crap. No way there were a million versions of us. But I’ve met enough of you and me to know otherwise now.”

Your heart feels heavy in your chest. “You’re referring to all of the universes you hijacked.”

“Hijacked,” Steve muses. “That’s a strong word.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “You entered universes that were not your own and caused chains of events that led to destruction of that world, every single time.”

It horrified you, looking at the footage. Every single universe was the same:  heroes gone or killed, skies full of smoke, thousands of dead. Everywhere Steve went, chaos followed him. It felt impossible, but it was true. Shockingly, awfully, it was true.

Steve’s eyes go dark. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“But it still happened,” you point out. “And you saw it happen but you kept going in more universes anyway. Why? Why didn’t you stop?”

Anger sparks in Steve like a match to gasoline. “I wasn’t trying to tear the universes apart, I was just trying to go back home,” he spits. “I couldn’t find the way back. I didn’t realize how delicate the multiverse was. Maybe that means you guys are bad at your job if a few detours can send the whole thing spiraling.”

The jab doesn’t even land, you’re too distracted by what he said before it. “You– you were trying to go back? Back where?”

A thundercloud of emotion passes over Steve’s face. “Back to the present,” he says softly.

He looks like he wants to keep talking, but he glances sharply back at you again and cuts himself off. “What does it matter to you, anyway? You’re just another version of you. What universe are you from, anyway? One where you leave instead of me?”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” you whisper. “You have no idea who I am, Steve.”

He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “No. No, I know you’re not my Y/N. My Y/N never would have agreed to go in the same room as me.” 

He straightens up suddenly. “Say– you’ve seen all the endings of the timeline, right? Is there any– are there any universes where you forgive me? Where I’m able to go back?”

Your breath feels faint in your chest. “You want to know if you ever go back to the present?”

He nods. “Surely I could do it at least once. Don’t tell me it never happens. And if I do, don’t say you hate me for leaving.”

His face, suddenly pleading, makes you almost sick to your stomach. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I never looked. I was too afraid that you would have left me for nothing.”

Steve draws back suddenly, looking at you with a fresh wave of curiosity. “You mean– Y/N. You’re the one I left? How did you get here?”

You nod. “I was lonely after you disappeared. I needed something to do. But Steve– I thought you would stay in the forties. Why would you ever go in the first place if you were just going to leave again?”

Steve looks stricken. “I thought I would like it better back then. I wanted to go home, but Y/N, I was wrong. The forties weren't home, you were. I realized it after a few months. Nothing felt right without you. I tried to go to our present day again, but it had been too long since I jumped and I couldn’t figure it out. I tried finding Strange, but of course he hadn’t been born yet, and I was sent into another universe instead of ours.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t understand. If you were trying to get back, why destroy all those universes?”

“I wasn’t trying to destroy them,” Steve says lowly, “I was trying to get you back. Only– you’re pivotal to all of this, and you don’t even get it. If the Avengers formed without us, they wouldn’t make the decisions needed to stop the Chitauri, or save the world from Thanos, or anything.”

You comprehend it all at last. “You weren’t destroying the multiverse, you were meddling with the timeline. Of course. The TVA always insisted on the danger of even the smallest variant. I get it now.”

“I made a mistake by leaving, Y/N,” Steve tells you. “I’m trying to make it right. Will you let me?”

And, looking at him in the low fluorescent lights of the TVA, you ask yourself if there’s still a place in your heart for the man you’ve known all your life. It’s been a long time since you saw him. It’ll be longer still before you forgive him for leaving in the first place. However, there’s not many people like you in this world or the next. You have Steve back at last. How could anyone not take a chance like that?

marvel tag list: @mayfieldss, @blondsauduun, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @alex-1967s-blog, @crazyhearttragedy, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

[fa1rydr3ams]

“Holiday Wars”

Submissive Loki Laufeyson x Dom Gn! Reader

| cw: nsfw, humor, mild language, enemies-to-lovers tension

| a/n: day 19 of ficmas check the ficmas tab on the pixie list for the next update!

| wc: n/a

The moment you stepped into the main floor of Stark Tower, you could feel the tension thick enough to rival the snowstorm raging outside. Strings of half-hung lights dangled precariously from the ceiling, and boxes of ornaments were scattered across the room like abandoned chess pieces in a game you weren’t winning. Loki stood in the middle of the chaos, arms folded, his sharp features set in an expression of pure disdain.

“You call this festive?” he drawled, his British lilt dripping with derision as he gestured at the half-decorated room. “It looks like a reindeer vomited on the walls.”

“And yet you’re the one standing there doing absolutely nothing to fix it,” you shot back, dropping the box of decorations you’d been hauling onto the nearest table. You rolled your shoulders, already exhausted, though it wasn’t from the decorating. Babysitting Loki was more draining than fighting off an alien invasion.

He smirked, the kind that made you want to hurl a candy cane at his stupidly perfect face. “I wasn’t aware that babysitting included manual labor. Though I must say, you do look fetching covered in tinsel.”

You glanced down at the stray strand of gold tinsel clinging to your sweater and brushed it off with a scowl. “If I wanted sass, I’d hang out with Tony,” you muttered. “Now, are you actually going to help, or are you just going to stand there and critique my hard work?”

Loki arched a brow, his pale green eyes glittering with amusement. “Why would I sully my hands with such trivialities when you seem so adept at it?”

The audacity of this man. You closed the distance between the two of you, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, heat prickling at the base of your neck. “You’re on house arrest, Laufeyson. You don’t exactly have the luxury of picking and choosing your duties.”

“I am hardly a servant,” he replied, the haughty tone of a prince slipping into his words. “And I have no intention of wasting my divine talents on—”

“Divine talents?” you interrupted, snorting. “You’ve been stuck here for weeks, and the only thing you’ve managed to do is annoy the hell out of everyone.”

His smirk widened. “A skill I’ve perfected, wouldn’t you agree?”

For a brief moment, the two of you stood locked in a silent battle, the twinkling lights around you casting playful shadows on his annoyingly sharp cheekbones. The air between you was charged, not unlike the static that zaps your fingertips when handling too much tinsel. And maybe, just maybe, there was something more simmering beneath the irritation.

“Fine,” you said, breaking the silence with an exaggerated sigh. “If you’re not going to help, you can at least hand me the ornaments while I fix your disaster of a garland.”

“Ordering me around now, are we?” he mused, taking a leisurely step closer. His voice dipped slightly, rich with suggestion. “I wonder what else you think you can command of me.”

You refused to give him the satisfaction of blushing, though his words sent a shiver down your spine. Plucking an ornament from the table, you shoved it into his hands. “Start with this. Then we’ll see how useful you really are.”

He leaned in, his lips quirking at the corners, his voice barely a whisper. “Oh, I assure you, darling. I can be very… useful.”

Your breath hitched, the space between you shrinking with every passing second. But you weren’t about to let Loki win this little game. Not yet.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to back down from the sultry edge in his voice or the spark dancing in his eyes. Instead, you smirked, stepping even closer until you were nearly toe-to-toe with him.

“Is that so?” you said, your tone light and teasing as you reached up and looped the end of a stray ribbon dangling from his collar around your finger. You gave it a playful tug, forcing him to dip his head just slightly. “Then prove it.”

Loki’s grin faltered for a fraction of a second—just enough for you to see the flicker of surprise before he quickly masked it with his usual arrogance. “You truly are a tyrant, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice softer now, laced with something you couldn’t quite name.

“Takes one to know one,” you replied, releasing the ribbon with a flick of your wrist. You stepped around him, brushing your shoulder against his arm as you went. “Now, hang the damn ornament.”

You didn’t have to look back to know he was watching you. You could feel his gaze burning into your back, the weight of it sending a thrill through you that you tried very hard to ignore. Loki Laufeyson might be infuriating, but he was also intoxicating in the worst way possible.

You busied yourself with the garland, trying to focus on fluffing the greenery and securing the strands that had come loose. But the sound of his footsteps behind you, slow and deliberate, made your hands falter.

“You know,” he said, his voice dangerously close to your ear, “I never thought mortal holidays could be so… stimulating.”

The way he said the word made your stomach flip. You turned your head slightly, finding him much closer than you expected, his breath warm against your skin.

“Careful, Loki,” you warned, though your voice lacked the bite you intended. “You might actually start enjoying yourself.”

He chuckled, low and rich, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I think I already am.”

The tension between you crackled like a yule log in the fire, and you knew you were walking a razor-thin line. Still, you couldn’t help but lean into it, just a little. Maybe it was the holiday spirit—or maybe it was the way his smirk softened ever so slightly when you met his gaze.

“You missed a spot,” you murmured, pointing to a bare patch of garland just above his shoulder.

“Did I?” he replied, but he made no move to step away.

“Mm-hmm.” You tilted your head, eyes locking with his as a daring smile curved your lips. “Guess you’ll have to fix it.”

The room felt too warm all of a sudden, the faint hum of Christmas music in the background fading as the space between you grew smaller.

As Loki's eyes sparkled with mischief, he slowly raised his hands, his fingers brushing against the garland. "I suppose I have no choice but to rectify this situation," he whispered, his voice low and husky, his breath dancing across your skin.

With a deliberate slowness, he began to weave the garland around the banister, his hands moving with an oddly sensual precision that made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but notice the way his fingers stroked the greenery, the gentle tug of the ribbon as he secured it in place.

The air was thick with tension, the silence between you punctuated only by the soft rustle of the garland and the distant sound of holiday music. You felt like you were drowning in the depths of his eyes, the blue seeming to darken.

Loki's gaze never wavered, his eyes holding yours captive as he stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing. You could feel the warmth of his body, the whisper of his breath on your skin, and your pulse began to pound in your veins like a drum.

The room seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a world of sparkling lights and forbidden desire. And as Loki's hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body, you knew that this holiday decorating was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

As Loki's hand touched yours, a spark of electricity ran through your body, and you felt your heart skip a beat. The garland, once the focus of your attention, was now forgotten, dangling limply from the banister as you both stood there motionless.

You held Loki's gaze, your eyes locked onto his, as you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding him in place. His eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and anticipation, but he tried to pull away, a faint pout forming on his lips.

"Let me go," he said, his voice low and petulant, but his eyes betrayed him, flashing with a hint of excitement. You didn't release your grip, instead, you tugged him closer, your fingers tightening around his wrist.

"I think we've decorated enough for one day," you said, your voice low as you leaned in, your breath whispering against his ear. Loki's eyes rolled back, his eyelids fluttering closed, and he let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing into yours.

But as your lips brushed against his, he jerked back, his eyes snapping open, a look of mock indignation on his face. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of annoyance and desire.

You just smiled, your lips curling up in a small grin, and pulled him back in, your tongue probing deeper into his mouth. Loki's body responded, his hands coming up to push against your chest, but his fingers curled into your shirt, holding on instead of pushing away.

As you deepened the kiss, Loki's eyes fluttered closed, his body melting into yours, his lips parting to allow your tongue to explore his mouth. But even as he surrendered to the kiss, he still tried to maintain a semblance of control, his hands gripping your shirt, his fingers digging into your skin.

You could feel the tension in his body, the conflicting desires warring within him, and you knew that he was torn between wanting to resist and wanting to give in. But as the kiss grew more intense, Loki's resistance began to crumble, his body relaxing into yours, his lips softening, his tongue tangling with yours in a sensual dance.

As you broke apart for a moment, gasping for air, Loki's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze burning with a fierce desire, but his lips still curled into a pout. "I didn't want to do that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but his eyes told a different story.

You smiled, a low, husky laugh escaping your lips as you gazed into Loki's eyes. "Is that true?" you teased, your voice barely above a whisper. "Your mouth certainly didn't make it seem that way." You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "It seemed like you were enjoying yourself, like you couldn't get enough."

Loki's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desire, his face inches from yours. "Shut up," he muttered, his voice low and rough, but his body betrayed him, leaning in closer, his lips almost touching yours.

You chuckled, a soft, seductive sound, and Loki's eyes seemed to glaze over, his pupils dilating as he gazed into yours. You could see the conflict within him, the war between his desire for control and his desire for surrender. And you knew that you were winning, that he was slowly giving in to his desires.

Without another word, you leaned in, your lips capturing his in a fierce, possessive kiss. Loki's resistance crumbled, his body melting into yours, his lips softening, his tongue tangling with yours in a sensual dance. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. Loki gave in, completely and utterly, his body surrendering to yours, his lips, his tongue, his every fiber responding to your touch.

As you broke apart, gasping for air, Loki's eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with a fierce, unspoken desire. You could see the surrender in his eyes, the acceptance of his own desires, and it only fueled your own passion.

Without a word, you took Loki's hand, pulling him towards the couch. He followed, his eyes never leaving yours, his body seeming to move of its own accord. You pushed him down onto the couch, his back against the cushions, and then you sat down on his lap, straddling him with your legs.

Loki's eyes flashed with surprise, but then his gaze dropped to your lips, and he seemed to forget all about his surroundings. His hands came up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his heat, his desire, and it only made you want him more.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "You're so cute like this," you whispered, your voice husky with desire.

Loki's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and desire, but he didn't push you away. Instead, he seemed to melt into your touch, his body relaxing into yours. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

You smiled, a slow, inviting smile, and then leaned in, your lips capturing his in a fierce, possessive kiss. Loki's body arched up, his hips pressing against yours, and you could feel the desire building between you, a desire that threatened to consume you both.

As you kissed, you could feel Loki's hands moving, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine, the swell of your hips. You could feel his need, and thought he wouldn’t admit it, he wanted you. You were lost in the moment, lost in the sensation of Loki's body beneath yours, lost in the taste of his lips, the feel of his skin.

You pulled away one last time, your hand pulling through his long black hair, looking directly into his eyes. He looked between each eye, his gaze darting back and forth, and you could see him trying to focus his attention. For a moment, you just stared at each other, the only sound the heavy breathing and the pounding of your hearts.

Loki's eyes were glazed, his pupils dilated, and his face was flushed with desire. You could see the desire written all over his face, the need, the want, the surrender. And in that moment, you knew that you had him, completely and utterly.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear, and whispered, "Good job, Loki." The words sent a shiver down his spine, and he smiled goofily, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the energy, and anticipation in his eyes.

suggestions for other fandoms I should write for after ficmas is over?

dividers by @anitalenia !

[vinamari]

How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

[sceletaflores]

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent. 

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts. 

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more. 

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you. 

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved. 

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure. 

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist. 

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain. 

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer. 

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours. 

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow. 

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest. 

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt. 

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[meshla-cyarika]

[dovesdreaming]

I only took one thing away from deadpool and wolverine and its this image:

I could look at this all day

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[dorkszn]

“Why are you trying a pink string around my arm?”

“First of all, it’s a ribbon. Second of all, s’for the video, Lo, just sit still,” you retort as you tie the light pink ribbon around Logan’s bicep, turning it into a nice little bow around the muscle.

“I told you I don’t wanna do any of your little TokTik’s or whatever,” Logan grumbles as he looks down at the bow with a small scowl.

“It’s TikTok, Lo,” you correct him again. “Will you stop being such an old man? It’s gonna take like five seconds and you won’t even have to do anything really,” you say as you set your camera up.

“Watch yourself, brat,” Logan says with a small glare in your direction. He glances at the camera that was focused on his arm. “What do I have to do?” He asks reluctantly.

You roll your eyes at his warning. “When I start the video, you just gotta flex your arm, okay? Dont gotta do anything else. Simple as that,” you tell Logan, preparing to start the video.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Logan sighs. You nod and press for the video to play. Logan just watches you. You watch him, waiting.

“Logan, do it,” you say, holding yourself back from face palming.

“Oh,”

Logan curls his arm up, the muscles barely flexed before the ribbon strains and snaps, falling off of his bicep. The video cuts. Logan glances between the bow and your expression. You look at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth and a stupid grin on your face.

“You happy now, Bub?” Logan questions, unbothered by your expression.

“Very,” you answer as you wrap your arms around Logan’s bicep and press a kiss to his cheek.

[aphrcdites]

“not all men”

you’re right, my favorite fictional character would never.

[logansdoll]

hammered

you get a little too turnt during girls night, and logan comes to your rescue.

CW: heavily suggestive, profanity, Logan's your white knight, Ororo's gettin lit, men are creeps, you're actually drunk as a skunk, etc.

"You guys got together?! Why didn't you tell me?!" Ororo gasped, loudly, sitting up straight in her seat.

Your brows furrowed, eyes widening at her volume, a few passing party-goers sharing concerned looks.

"Say it louder. I don't think the rest of the city heard you..." you grumbled, face burning as you took a sip from your strawberry daiquiri.

She sat next to you on the little leather couch situated at the back of the club near the bar, which had began to trickle with activity.

The three of you had been there for only about thirty minutes, the buzz of the night starting to pick up, the dance floor packed with dancers and drinks flowing.

And the eyes, still staring.

"Ignore her, (n/n)," Jean smiled, kindly, as she rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I think it's sweet you two took it at your own pace. It shows how serious you both are about this."

The three of you were having easy conversation, drinking and gabbing about whatever came to mind, when you and Logan were suddenly brought up.

And Ororo nearly died of shock when she found out you two were official.

"And speaking of seriousness... I believe we have an audience..."

Another group of three in particular, whose gazes were piercing you and your friends from across the way.

The three intense pairs of eyes belonged to three men in their best designer.

They each had their own outstanding feature: the tallest one sitting on the right had long, black hair, while the one on the left had arms roped in tattoos and lip piercings, the final one having a buzz cut and a snaggle-toothed smile.

Their lustful stares all but ignored by the two sitting next to you, your mind preoccupied with downing your second daiquiri that soon turned into a third.

You barely paid the men any mind, already knowing a man ten times hotter than all of them combined.

You actually missed him a whole damn lot.

You both were supposed to have a date night, but he got called last minute to round up Rogue and her friends who were causing havoc at some far off arcade.

So the girls dragged you out to the club, much to your protest.

'The kids just had to choose tonight of all nights...'

Ororo scoffed, gulping down another jell-O shot, "Waiting on him to come?" she chuckled, the flashing club lights making her light eyes sparkle.

You flushed in your mini dress, feeling hot despite the blasting AC and your exposed skin.

"You'll be waiting a while," she sighed, crossing her smooth legs over one another. "I heard Scott over the phone... those kids are in serious trouble."

You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed that he wasn't there, resting his hand at the small of your back, giving you those lustful stares on the dance floor, and complimenting your outfits in his own Logan way.

You'd done so much to make sure you looked hotter than hot, too.

You had raided your closet and pulled out a short, backless mini dress that made your legs look longer and showed off the curve of your spine sliding down towards your ass.

You loved, loved, loved it—how beautiful the black fabric looked against your skin; how sexy it made you feel.

Not to mention it was one of Logan's favorites.

He'd torn it off you many times.

Combined with your stiletto heels, fresh mani-pedi, the perfume adorning your wrists and the back of your knees, and hair that gracefully caressed your shoulders, you felt like a damn vixen.

Ororo sat up, taking your hand in hers, "No sense in sitting around while you wait, eh?"

She smirked at you, mischief in her eyes.

"Let's dance."

You paused a moment, hesitant.

But in that instant, those three daiquiris hit you like a truck, and all inhibitions went out the window.

'Fuck it.'

You stood up, chugging the last of your drink before taking her hand.

"Let's do it."

Famous last words.

Smoothly, you glided your fingers up your body, swaying your hips in rhythm with the beat as Ororo danced with one of the men.

You two had been dancing so well, you called the attention of the entire club. And with you about seven daiquiris in, it felt as if the music was coursing through your veins and melding with your bones.

The men of the establishment were hounding you both relentlessly—Jean having escaped to the bar to strike up some friendly conversation with the bartender—and even with your inebriated state, you fought them off vigorously, smacking away hands and returning advances with a sharp tongue.

Though the novelty was beginning to fade, and the urge to go home had began to set in.

As if on que, your phone began to buzz, taking your attention away from your thoughts.

"Hold up! I'm getting a call!" you laughed. "I'll be right back, 'Ro!"

She gave you a wink before you went stumbling off the dance floor, tugging a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You decided to go to the nearest ladies' room, leaning against the wall where the long line started, before flipping open your phone.

You looked down at the caller ID, grinning to see the name of your favorite guy on the screen.

"Heyyyy, Logan," you sang into the phone with a drunk giggle.

"There you are," Logan let out a sigh of relief from the other side of the phone. "I've been tryin' to reach ya. I just finished roundin' up the kids and droppin' 'em off back home, so I'm free for the rest of the night if ya still wanna go out."

"Oh!" you chuckled, "Sorry!"

As you paused, Logan suddenly became confused.

"Where the hell are you? It's so loud, I can barely hear ya."

You placed one foot up on the wall, leaning your back flush against the cool tiles. "'Roro 'n' Jean took me to the club 'n' these guys tried to join us," you slurred. "Oh, they bought us drinks, too. And one said he liked my dress. He wasn't as good looking as you."

"You wearin' the backless one?" he asked, sounding intrigued.

You giggled giddily in response, finding humor in his quiet curse.

"Damn... ya had to pull that one out?"

"Oh, you should see me, Logan... I look gooood," you smiled, looking down at yourself. "But it's not the same... s'not as fun without you."

You lowered your foot back down to the ground and crossed your arm over your midsection, suddenly feeling cold and small.

"I miss you, Logan," you said, quietly. "Could you pick me up, please?"

His chest warmed at your tone, unable to fight the smirk on his face.

Despite the fact that you were absolutely sloshed, your mind still drifted to him, and even missed him when he was away.

It was adorable.

"Sure, sweetheart. Where are—?" "Wait!" you shrieked, a smile blooming on your face as you got quiet.

Logan cocked a brow.

'Huh?'

It was your favorite song.

"Logan! It's my song! I'll be right back!" you smile into the phone before hanging up, scrambling back to Ororo.

When you shimmeyed back onto the dance floor, she happily greeted you, moving in sync with the rhythm as you began your own moves.

"Oooo, what's that?" you asked, pointing at the glass she was holding.

It was orange and topped with ice and chopped oranges and strawberries, reminding you of a tequila sunrise.

"Want it?" she giggled, holding it out for you to take.

Which you gladly did, tossing it back lie it was water, humming approvingly at the taste as you licked the remnants off your lips.

The two men next to her were close to falling out from the scene.

"Fuck," one of them groaned. "Can you do that to me?"

You turned to them, brows furrowed. "Fuck off. My guy's gonna be here anyyyyy second."

Ororo gasped as she threw an arm around you, pulling you close to her perfume-soaked neck, "He's coming? That's great!"

You both cheered together, throwing your hands in the air as you continued to dance.

"C'mon," a man smirked from behind you. "What's he doing leaving a pretty lil' thing like you alone?"

Your face fell, expression annoyed as you turned to him, "Didn't I tell you to go somewhere? He's gonna show up sooon..."

The man had gotten closer, so close that you could see him lick his lips, expectantly.

He scoffed, leering down at you under the strobe lights, "But he ain't here, is he?"

"I wouldn't put money on it, bub," Logan replied from behind him.

Your eyes lit up like stars as soon as you laid eyes on your dark, handsome bodyguard.

He stood there behind the man with his thick, leather-clad arms crossed over his broad chest, which was covered by his white tee.

And he looked less than pleased.

"Logan!" you smiled, moving to stand by his side like a magnet.

The man turned to face him, watching as Logan snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

"This is the boyfriend?" he laughed, amused.

His words hardened Logan's expression tenfold, and it took everything in you not to giggle.

"Yeah, I am. And why the fuck are you still here?"

His words forced the man's expression to meld into one of frustration, and you bit back an amused smile at the sight.

You were drunk out of your mind, but you knew better than to interfere.

The man swallowed thickly, "I was just—"

"Harrassin' my woman."

You felt your heart flutter at the nickname.

He'd been calling you that for a while, but somehow it always felt like the first time.

"I didn't know she was yours—"

In a flash, his Logan's fist was up, his claws were on display and right in front of the man's face, scaring the shit out of him.

"I don't like repeating myself," he spat, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Fuck. Off."

You both watched the man scatter, eyes wide as he scrambled toward the bar.

Damn.

'What a bitch...'

"You alright?" Logan asked, taking off his leather jacket as he glared around the room, taking notice of the other leering men on the dance floor. "This place is full of fuckin' sleazeballs."

You shrugged, running a hand through your hair, "Eh, I managed."

Wordless, he handed over his jacket, your nose wrinkled in confusion.

"What's that for?"

"You're shivering, (n/n)."

You looked down at yourself, realizing that you were, indeed, shivering.

"Oh."

"C'mon," he sighed, draping the jacket over your shoulders before resting his hand at the small of your back, steering you toward the exit. "I think that's enough fun for one night."

Glancing back at Ororo, he gave a small look, slightly concerned.

"Scott's on his way for you two... You gonna be good?"

"Tipsy, but okay!" she gave him a thumbs up, along with a little wink. "Have fun, you two!"

He ignored the innuendo, but nodded, going back to ushering you out the back door.

"I missed you, Logan," you confessed, a slight whine to your voice as you practically clung to him.

"I know you did, sweetheart," he sighed, approaching one of Cyclops' cars. "Let's get you home."

The moment you hung up the phone, he sped over to the club, breaking about fifteen different traffic laws in the process.

An annoyance he decided to deal with the next day.

Without warning, you grabbed him, shoving him up against a wall of the alley you were in, interlocking your fingers as your free hand traced mindless shapes in his chest.

"You look so good, Logan," you purred, eyeing him up and down with hungry eyes, heating him from the inside out. "So good."

Suddenly, your lips attached to his neck, lazily peppering the flesh with kisses and pecks, with the occasional nip.

"(n/n)... you're drunk," Logan stated, moreso for himself, as he weakly tried to pry you off.

"I'd do this anyway," you grinned into his skin, pulling back to look at him, gaze half-lidded. "You look so sexy..."

Slowly, your lips curled into a hazy, loving smile, your eyes staring up at him like he was the only thing in the world.

Fuck...

You'd think he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

'This woman's gonna be the death of me...'

"What's wrong?" you asked, lips pouty and eyes glassy as you looked up at him, your expression one of hurt. "You're not touching me..."

"Doll," he sighed, voice slightly strained. "As gorgeous as you look... and as much as I wanna pin you against this wall... you're fuckin' hammered. And I'd like to feel you up when you actually know what yer doin'."

He pulled back to see your reaction, only to find you were already out like a light, softly snoring and drooling all over his shirt.

A soft smile fell onto his lips at the adorable sight, the man brushing some of your hair out your face before scooping you up in his arms, pressing a long kiss on your forehead.

'Somethin' else...'

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine going on adventures with Logan and Deadpool and you’re the voice of reason behind them 😆 Deapool the idiot with hot headed Wolverine that reader has to keep in check all the time

It’s not easy being the only person with common sense in this rag tag trio of yours.

^^ this is literally you babysitting two grown ass men that need to be kept on leashes and separated from one another in case they fight, again.

You are overworked and underpaid to be dealing with this shit, but there was no one else who had the patience for Wade nor the compassion and empathy for Logan as you did.

So unfortunately you were stuck with them for every mission given but despite how vastly different and incompatible some of you were -*cough* Logan and Wade *cough*- you three worked well enough together that you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were forced to face situations where wade would be pissing Logan off to the point his claws were out, and you had to pat the rugged man on his shoulder, wait for him to look at you as you pointed towards his claws;

‘Them. Away. Now.’ -you.

Wolverine: *grunts*

You: don’t give me attitude, put. them. away. Now.

Wade: ohhh Logan’s in trouble!

You would then look at Wade before pointing at him like a disappointed parent: and you, stop pissing him off if you like to keep your dick where it is! Or so help god me I’ll cut it off myself!

Wade: 😶

Wolverine: *smirks and puts the claws away*

You were their voice of reason, their angel on their shoulder, their peace keeper and confidant and they respect you for keeping up with their shit. However it wouldn’t be much like Logan and Wade to make your life easy as you often had to stand between the two as a barrier of sorts to keep them from killing each other.

When in actuality they are flipping each other off behind your back and it wasn’t until Logan slapped wades hand away, causing him to say ‘ow’ did you look between the two of them as they acted like they weren’t acting like children a few moments ago.

You: I’m so sorry you’ll have to excuse them.

*Meanwhile Wade and Logan fighting, stabbing each other in the balls in the background*

You: WOULD YOU TWO STOP FUCKING FIGHTING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!

Wade and Logan; *immediately stop and point at each other* he started it!

They were the reason you had grey hairs at an early age you swore this to anyone who’d listen. They were a pain in your ass, thorn in your side and a headache waiting to happen but the moment you were threatened, Wade and Logan put aside their differences and acted accordingly by standing protectively in front of you.

Logan: I would shut the fuck up if I were you bub.

Wade: oh look what you did, you made daddy angry.

Logan and you looking at Wade: 🤨😐

You: can you not make everything into a sex joke?

Wade, booping you on the nose; it comes with the territory peanut.

Logan: be serious for fucking once, they’ve just got threatened!

Wade: you don’t think I want our pookie to get hurt? (why do I think he’d say pookie unironically)

You: kill me now and end my misery. Please someone, anyone. Preferably pyro. (He’s hot, literally and figuratively)

Being stuck with Logan and wolverine is a curse and a blessing at the same time, which one you want to focus on more is up to you. However you three were incredibly loyal to each other, even if you do piss each other off from time to time, but you’d never betray one another for it wasn’t an option.

You were stuck with these two whether you liked it or not.

[countlessimagines]

Your World [ Wolverine x Reader ]

Summary: your Wolverine was your whole world.

A/N: I like writing angsty stuff and this movie provided me with the best possible scenarios <3 hehehe I love wolverine

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of blood

Marvel MASTERLIST Link here

SPOILERS BELOW

-

It wasn’t an ideal love story that brought you back to Logan.

Being a mutant with incredible healing abilities and a broken heart made it so easy for Stryker to capture you. Your Wolverine had been the one to rescue you from the clutches of Stryker and the horrible fate that loomed over your head. All the days of experiments and cold rooms where you’d be injected with who knows what, it all lead to him.

But you always had to remind yourself that Logan had gotten you out, made you a X-Men, but found the brutal truth of how dangerous it was to be loved by you.

You loved deeply and endlessly, like a void waiting for eternity to be loved and to love. Logan was exactly what your heart desired for years.

Someone who could never die, never leave you.

Fighting alongside each other became a beautiful symphony. And God protect anyone who caused you harm, because Logan would only see red and slice them to pieces. It was a miracle none of the X-men had been torn to shreds, but Scott always came close.

The team would always joke about your relationship, saying how could an innocent soul be in love with such a brute like Wolverine.

But Logan knew the only way he could breathe was to be with you, to hold you, to kiss and love you.

He would always find his way to you no matter the circumstance.

Beast was holding you in the infirmary because he wanted to run tests? Logan was there.

Storm and Jean wanted to have a girls night? Logan was sitting outside the room in case anything happened.

Scott was training you in hand to hand combat? Logan was definitely there.

Your world consisted of him and him only.

And maybe that is why it hurt so much when he let your entire team die, because you had not made them your whole world.

You had been away on a mission by yourself when you received the news of their passing. You returned to a bloodied home, no sign of Wolverine to be found.

Life began to blur after what happened. You had to go into hiding, because people blamed you for what happened, too. And there was no one there to stop you from spiraling into a flurry of self hatred.

Hatred for what you had become. A love sick puppy so consumed with Logan only. Maybe if you had been there, maybe if you hadn’t put so much trust in him, maybe if you could have taken the hits for your team.

And the thought that stuck with you the most, if you had been there, screaming for help - would Logan had only saved you and left the rest to die?

Because the love you shared was slowly becoming so obvious to you that it was not pure or natural, but rather so simple it would have made you and Logan public enemy number one.

But you supposed that had already happened, too.

Your mutant abilities were the only thing you had left, so you consumed yourself in underground work. Becoming exactly what the X-men had fought against.

Shedding your uniform, you had to separate yourself from the X-men because people recognized you too easily. It was hard to find any work where people wanted a tainted mutant.

You tried your hardest to not let every moment be consumed by the thought of Logan. He had never reached out to you after the event, despite the grief between you so overwhelmingly strong. He couldn’t face you and love someone who would have stepped through hell and back for him.

He felt as if he didn’t deserve it.

So time continued to pass as the bond between the two of you was severed so deeply that it was suffocating to be apart.

But it wasn’t until Deadpool showed up to your apartment that you were finally addressing your past.

“Leave, now. I’m not hearing any of your bullshit.” You tried to close your door but he stopped it.

“Please, c’mon. I need you! Wolverine needs you!”

You tensed at the mere mention of him. “If he needed me so desperately, it is far too late for him to come back.”

“But you’re his one and only, for fuck’s sake! Every variant I’ve met of him has had a you stalking around like a lap dog. You know how many of you’s have beaten the shit out of me?” He rambled on, and you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t care to understand what you’re saying, so goodbye, Wade!”

Deadpool sighed before kicking the door in and stabbing you through the chest with one of his blades. You stared at him in shock and couldn’t register anything as he flung you over his shoulder into an orange portal.

You landed on a hard ground that pushed the blade out of you. “Wade, you’re a dead man.”

He stepped through the portal and leaned over your body. “Sorry about that, but I can’t die so you’re stuck with not only me, but Wolverine!”

Deadpool giggled and ran off, making sure to rip the blade out of your stomach. You winced but felt your regeneration cells working to stitch you back together.

Slowly sitting up, you spat out blood.

“I tried to tell him not to bring you into this.”

You froze at the voice you fought to forget, willing calm into your fast beating heart.

Sitting up fully only made your legs wobble and your head spin. But you had to look up into the eyes of the man you still loved.

Logan looked different, healthier and happier. It only made you feel sick.

“I’ve been busy.” He said it so casually that it made you want to slap his chest for the lack of greeting. “Wade gave me a second chance. I helped save his world.”

“You haven’t seen me in years and you choose to brag?” You scoffed, removing your shirt to assess the damage Wade had done to your shirt.

Logan sucked in a breath as he took in your battle worn scars. Despite your healing factor, you still kept every scar from every wound you had endured.

He remembered the last time he saw you, you only adorned a few on your chest and stomach.

Now it was littered with them.

“You’ve been busy too, I gather?” Logan said with a hint of sarcasm.

You glared at him. “Why am I here?”

“Wade thought that I needed you.” He admitted it with such ease, like he knew it to be true in his heart.

“And? Do you need me?”

He hesitated before answering. “I’ve always needed you… and I think that’s why I let myself go for so many years. Because I knew that no matter what I did or said to you, you would never forgive me. I would always be the one who let our team die… let you go.”

“Well you’re right, because I never would forgive you. Not after abandoning all of us,” you choked out, the tears beginning to creep into the corners of your eyes. “I loved you fiercely, Logan. All it would have taken was one call during those first few days and I would have been there for you. We could’ve been healing together. But you chose this life of despair for both of us, Logan.”

“I know.” He said, his own eyes watering.

“I despise you.” You said, but your heart was breaking, letting out the true feelings. It was bleeding for him and for him only.

Logan stepped closer and you did not stop him.

“I want nothing to do with you.” You said, your voice cracking.

“I understand.” He said, five feet away from you now.

“I hate you.” You began to weep, the blood in your heart revealing what you wanted truly.

“I don’t blame you.” Logan closed the gap between the two of you, holding you close to his chest. You cried into his shoulder, holding on for dear life. “I’m never leaving you again.”

All you could muster was a small nod, your tears staining his shirt. His own were dripping onto the top of your head.

And in the empty apartment, you and Logan stood, holding onto each other.

Holding your world together.

[ziaverse]

‘why do you read “various x reader stories?”’

first, i’m a narcissist and will not read it if it’s not about me

second, I love the feeling of people liking me

third, I was ignored as a child