#young x men

[souurcitrus]

In my universe, Earth-18104, the X-Men had three schools in different times, the Xavier Mansion changed names every time a new "era" started, according to the story and the events of that time.

The story of the Xavier Institute is based in the comics and influenced by other events of this universe, that are based in other medias like the movies and comics, and don't follow the time-line of the comics in a precise way, because I wanted to give this universe a more real feeling of time passing slowly and the characters aging different from each generation.

So... yeah, some characters are older or younger than they are in the comics.

Here are some of the students that were enrolled in each school. And here the list of other groups of young superheroes.

• Xavier Institute for Gifted Young People (1972 - 1999)

The first school, of course, when Xavier still had to keep his and his students' identities a secret. People believed it was just a private school, even thought it had only a very few students, at first.

The first students were the original X-Men of 1972, trained by Xavier, Magneto, Mystique, Mastermind, Moira MacTaggert and Destiny (based on the movie X-Men First Class):

• Armando Muñoz / Darwin (16)

• Suzanne Chan / Sway (17)

• Vienna Adamsen / Petra (16)

• Sean Cassidy / Banshee (20)

They later all went to Muir Island to train with Moira, after Xavier suffered the injury that let him paralyzed.

In 1989, Xavier trained the second X-Men, the Original Five or X-Men '92:

• Jean Grey / Marvel Girl (17)

• Scott Summers / Cyclops (16)

• Bobby Drake / Iceman (15)

• Warren Worthington III / Angel (17)

• Henry McCoy / Beast (18)

Later in 1995, Lorna Dane / Polaris (20) and Alex Summers / Havok (17) joined the team.

At the same time, Moira had her own team if X-Men in Muir Island, trained by Petra, Sway and Darwin:

• Christopher Bradley / Bolt (14)

• Gabriel Summers / Vulcan (13)

• James Madrox / Multiple (16)

• David Haller (17/18)

In 1996 Kitty Pryde / Sprite (13), Alison Blaire / Dazzler (16), Gailyn and Joseph Grey / Shatter-Box (10) joined the school. And in 1997, it was Rogue (17) and Ruth Aldine / Blindfold (17).

*Shatterbox are minor characters in the comics. Blindfold is older than her counterpart in the comics, and acts as a mentor and counselor to the next students.

In 1997/1999, the Xavier Institute was turned into a real school, and thought he did not wanted to put more children in danger, Xavier created a new team of X-Men, the New Mutants:

• Illyana Rasputin / Magik (13)

• Xuân Cao Manh / Karma (15)

• Danielle Moonstar / Mirage (16)

• Sam Guthrie / Cannonball (16)

• Roberto da Costa / Sunspot (15)

• Rahne Sinclair / Wolfsbane (15)

• Amara Aquilla / Magma (15)

• James Proudstar / Warpath (14)

• Douglas Ramsey / Cypher (12)

• Warlock

* Illyana Rasputin was 6 years old before joined, however, after her time in the Limbo, she came back to her world as a 13 years old teenager. James Proudstar was brought to the school by his older brother after leaving the Hellions. And Jonh Proudstar never fucking died.

In 1999, Banshee and Emma Frost took care of a new class of mutants, the Generation X:

• Paige Guthrie / Husk (17)

• Angelo Spinosa / Skin (16)

• Jubilee (17)

• Monet St. Croix / Penance (17)

• Claudette and Nicole St. Croix / M (9)

• Jonothon "Jono" Starsmore / Chamber (18)

• Everett Thomas / Synch (17)

These kids were gathered and chosen as X-Men after being rescued from the Phalanx, however Clarice Ferguson / Blink (14) was lost after destroying the enemy and was only found years later. Not by the X-Men.

In 2000/2001, Apocalypse was awaken from his slumber and the X-Men fought against him and his Horsemen. In 2004, the Infinity Gaulent arc happened, and half of the universe was gone (Like in Avengers: Endgame), and only restaured in 2010.

The people turned to dust in this break of time didn't aged.

• Xavier Institute for Higher Education / Xavier Academy (1997 - 2004) and (2010 - 2017)

After these events, the Xavier Institute changed names again. Xavier, Jean Grey, Emma Frost, Hank McCoy, Logan and Scott Summers were the ones in charge.

The mansion was had more of a structure to resemble a real school, and even had a student body, more classes, etc.

In school year of 2011/2012 (September to june) the events of E is for Extinction and Riot at Xavier's took place. The students at the time were:

• Angel Salvadore / Tempest (15)

• Barnell Borhuk / Beak (15)

• Glob Herman

• Sophie, Phoebe, Irma, Celeste and Esme Cuckoo / The Stepford Cuckoos (14)

• Jebediah "Jeb" Guthrie (12)

• Melody Guthrie / Aero (15)

• Vincent Stewart / Redneck (15)

• Christian and Christine Cord / Radian and Tattoo (15)

• Quentin Quire / Kid Omega (14)

• Hong Liange (11)

• Lucy Priest / Butterfly (16)

• Carlo Brewster / Gelatin (14)

• Abraham Verne / Caput (15)

• Dana Holmes / Polymer (15)

• Alisa Tager / Cipher (11)

• Ellie Phimister / Negasonic Teenage Warhead (12)

• Kutsuna Yukio (12)

• Gabrielle and Michael Diwa / Galura and Arauto (13)

• Dean Boswell / Dummy (15)

• Martha Johansson (9)

• Ernst (10)

• Hisako Ichiki / Armor (13)

• Edward Tancredi / Wing (12)

• Quincy Marrow (14)

• Stan Finch / Silicon (14)

• Leong Cao Mạnh (11)

• Nga Cao Mạnh (11)

*Kutsuna Yukio is the version of Yukio from Deapool 2; The Stepford Cuckoos are only three years old chronologically, but aged faster, so they are 14 years old physically and mentally. Quentin Quire had just turned fourteen and lost his body, being stuck in his astral form, he couldn't age and stayed in this form for the next six years

*For the love of God, Beak and Angel didn't fucking had children. What the fuck these writers had in mind???? They're teenagers. Jeb and Melody Guthrie should be older, but they were among the victims of Infinity Gaulent.

During 2013/2014, the events of Academy X, New X-Men, and Young X-Men in 2015 took place. During this time, we had the events of M-Day, Civil War and the Stryke's attack took place.

• Jay Guthrie / Icarus; Dallas Gibson / Specter; Callie Betto / Dryad; Sofia Mantega / Wind Dancer; Phoebe, Irma and Celeste Cuckoo / The Stepford Cuckoos (16)

• Kevin Ford / Wither; Hisako Ichiki / Armor; Julian Keller / Hellion; Sooraya Qadir / Dust; David Alleyne / Prodigy; Noah Crichton / Hydro (15)

• Cecily Kincaid / Mercury; Santo Vacarro / Rockslide; Kutsuna Yukio; Brian Cruz / Tag; Sidney Green / Onyxx; Laura Kinney; Edward Tancredi / Wing; Nick Shelley / Flubber; Laurie Collins / Wallflower; Noriko Ashida / Surge; Josh Foley / Elixir; Eric Gitter / Ink; Maxwell Jordan / Quill (14)

• Alisa Tager / Cipher; Megan Gwynn / Pixie; Hong Liange; Paras Gavaskar / Indra; Sarah Vale / Network; Jessica Vale / Preview; Nezhno ABidemi / Gentle; Lazaro Kotikash / Kidogo; Alani Ryan / Loa (13)

• Andrea Margulies / Rubber Maid; Ben Hamill / Match; Mark Sheppard / DJ; Victor Borkowski / Anole; Jeffrey Garrett (12)

• Ernst; Roxy Washington / Bling!; Martha Johansson; Nick Gleason / Wolf Cub; Hope Abott / Trance; Carl Aalston / Rain Boy (11)

Like in the comics, some of these characters lost their powers and died, with a few exception surviving and leaving the role as X-Men. The few that survived and kept their powers after M-Day stayed and then later moved to Utopia/Genosha.

After this, the Xavier Institute was destroyed and the Graymalkin Lane was left empty until 2018. In 2017, with the return of Hope Summers, a new group of X-Men was formed in Utopia, the Lights, though they did not resided at the Institute.

• Hope Summers (15)

• Gabriel Cohuelo / Velocidad (16)

• Laurie Tromette / Transonic (17)

• Teon Savko / Primal (15)

• Idie Okonkwo / Oya (13)

• Kenji Uedo (19)

Hope Summers was born just a few years before the Lights, but since she was raised in the future she is 14 years old when she comes back. Later, Megan Gwynn / Pixie (16) joined the team, taking Oya's place.

After the Schim caused, the X-Men split in two. Quentin Quire had returned in a new body, but he was still 14 years old, the same age he was when he "died"

• Jean Gray School for Higher Learning (2018- )

In 2018, Wolverine went back to Westchester and rebuilt the mansion, trying to give the place the feeling of real school. The students also could only start training when they were in 9° grade and could train to be X-Men and join teams (like in Academy X) after they were in 10° grade.

He made a deal with the Shi'ar to have technology to protect the school, as long he accepted the son of Gladiator, asked to be Quentin's guardian and they had a clone of Krakoa as they grounds.

A few old students joined the school in the first year, and a few only in the second and third year. The school opened in August of 2018.

(This list of students include some of my OCs, since I'm writing a fanfic that happens in the Jean Grey School)

• Hisako Ichiki / Armor; Julian Keller / Hellion; Gabrielle and Michael Diwa / Galura and Arauto (19)

• Cecily Kincaid / Mercury; Santo Vacarro / Rockslide: Kutsuna Yukio; Ellie Phimister / NTW; Noriko Ashida / Surge; Eric Gitter / Ink (18)

• Alisa Tager / Cipher; Hong Liange; Paras Gavaskar / Indra; Nezhno ABidemi / Gentle (17)

• Cam Long / Tiger; Aura Charles / Aurora; Crosta (16)

• Ben Hamill / Match; Victor Borkowski / Anole; Iara dos Santos / Shark Girl; Roxy Washington / Bling!; Martha Johansson / Cerebela; Zane Yamaguchi / Juggernaut 2; Hope Abott / Trance; Carl Aalston / Rain Boy (15)

• Idie Okonkwo / Oya; Prince Kubark / Gladiator; Trevor Hawkins / Eye-Kid; Charge OC; Julian Creed / Menace OC (14)

• Evan Adel / Genesis; Jiang Mei, Sprite (13/14); Hunter Creed / Rescue OC (12/13); Broo

*Broo is only five months old, Evan is a clone so he aged faster than the Cuckoos, chronologically he was "born" a few months before being enrolled. The school was never moved to Manhattan like in the comics.

Later, Huang Lin / Nature Kid; Michela Ladak; Joseph and Josephine Bricklemoore / Tri-Joe and Squid Girl joined the school.

Even after the death of Wolverine in 2021 and the creation of Krakoland in 2023, the school stayed open, and the X-Men hope it stays this way for many years.

[severalmoremutants]

Gen-X cameo in X-Men Blue??!! Hell yes!!!!

(sorry again for horrific image quality screenshots aren’t working so I’m literally taking photos of the screen up close lol)

[newx-menfan]

Anole is too Self Aware and it’s why he’s the X-Office’s punching bag 😶

[pollackpatrol]

Round 3!!!

[ID1: A picture of Roxy Washington, a Black woman made of purple crystals. She is wearing a standard X-uniform with a brown leather jacket over top.

ID2: A picture of Ruth Aldine, a white woman with black-brown hair. She wears a standard X-uniform modified to be sleeveless, as well as a blindfold. end ID.]

[scienceninjaturtle]

X-Men Secret Files pt.4

[derpwithit]

FIDDLESTAN ENJOYERS COME GET YALLS FOOD

[kennimu]

I am artist

[kawareo]

Sometimes, sometimes, Ketheric reflects on what he's lost, and misses Aylin.

[wakandas]

1. thinkfast - prodigy / speed

[leilohsstupidgaystuff]

Young Cherik in our generation...

Charles: Hear me out... *sticks a picture of Erik Lensherr (an extrem pro mutant activist, a few years older than Charles, famous for his speeches) on the cake*

Hank: Why would you...

Raven: *also putting Erik on the cake in silence*

Hank: What's wrong with you Xaviers?

[librababe99]

Healing Touch

cw: MDNI, 18+, Smut, Fluff, Young!Charles Xavier, Fem!Reader word count: 2.7K Summary: In the mid-1970s, Charles Xavier is a man haunted by loss and burdened by the weight of his own mind. When you, a fellow mutant, offer him not only companionship but a love he never expected, the walls he has built around his heart begin to crumble.

A/N: Since I wrote for Erik I felt that writing for Charles balances everything out <3 Forgive me if mentioning the cuban missile crisis at the beginning throws off the timeline in anyway, we don't have to jump into technicalities...lol! Anyways, please feel free to comment, reblog or like this <3 happy reading!

(Marvel Masterlist)

The 1970s had a way of weaving magic into the air—rife with a rebellious freedom, spinning off the back of a decade of upheaval. Amidst the intoxicating haze of civil rights movements, psychedelic music, and ever-changing fashion, there was something magnetic about this era, as if the world were in the throes of rediscovering itself. And in that same time, tucked away in the heart of Westchester County, Charles Xavier was a man rediscovering himself too—one who had seen the world both at its brightest and at its darkest.

The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning had become more than just a school. With the Cuban Missile Crisis a decade behind them and the threat of mutants still very much real, Charles had been pulled into a storm that had rocked him to his core. The man who had once been so full of optimism and hope had become someone else—someone hardened by loss, crippled both physically and emotionally. He had found himself retreating from the world, isolating behind the walls of his mansion, letting the noise of the outside world fade into a dull, muted hum.

But then there was you.

You had come into Charles’s life by chance, a fellow mutant with abilities that he couldn’t help but be drawn to. He had noticed you first because of your power—something akin to empathy, the ability to feel and manipulate the emotions of others. It was subtle, nothing explosive like fire or ice, but it was potent in its own right. In some ways, Charles found it even more fascinating, for it spoke to the heart of what he had always believed—that mutants were more than just their powers; they were people with gifts, capable of great good or terrible destruction depending on how they wielded them.

But it wasn’t just your abilities that caught his attention. There was something about you that stirred something long-buried inside him. You were strong, yes, but kind too—empathetic not just because of your powers but because of who you were at your core. And in a world where Charles had grown tired of fighting, tired of losing, you had become a beacon of warmth in the cold. Your presence began to thaw the ice he had encased himself in, and though he resisted it at first, that pull between you was undeniable.

It was a Friday night, and the mansion was quiet, the students having all gone off for the weekend. The air outside was thick with the scent of rain, the clouds heavy and swollen, but inside, there was a warmth that clung to the air. You had found Charles in his study, a glass of scotch in hand, seated behind the large oak desk that had become almost a throne for him. He was disheveled, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, hair slightly out of place in a way that made him seem more human, less like the esteemed Professor Xavier he had always tried to be.

You knocked softly on the doorframe, leaning against it with a playful smile. "You look like you could use a break."

Charles glanced up from his drink, his eyes settling on you in that way that always sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes—those sharp, piercing blue eyes—were tired, but they softened when they met yours. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "A break from what, exactly?"

You shrugged, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward him. "From thinking. From brooding. From being Charles Xavier, mutant extraordinaire." You reached his desk and perched yourself on the edge of it, your knee brushing his thigh as you did so. His eyes flickered down to the point of contact, and you saw the briefest hitch in his breath.

“I don’t brood,” he replied, though the smile that followed betrayed his words.

“Oh, you most certainly do.” You leaned forward, teasingly close, just enough that he could feel your presence in the air between you. “You sit in this big, empty mansion, all alone, with your thoughts and your scotch, and you brood.”

Charles chuckled softly, though there was something in the sound that was darker, more resigned. “Maybe I do.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his eyes distant for a moment. “There’s a lot to think about these days.”

You watched him for a moment, your gaze softening. Charles had always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, even before the accident that had left him in a wheelchair. But now, that weight seemed heavier, as though the world had taken too much from him.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his wrist, and the moment you touched him, you could feel it—a deep, aching sadness, buried beneath layers of composure and strength. It was like touching a wound that had never quite healed.

“I can feel it, you know,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles looked up at you, and for a moment, the walls he had built around himself seemed to crumble, leaving behind the man he had tried so hard to hide. “Feel what?” His voice was just as soft, but there was an edge to it, a vulnerability he rarely let anyone see.

You smiled gently, your fingers trailing up his arm, barely grazing his skin. “Everything. The pain, the loss, the weight of all of it. You’re carrying so much, Charles. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he did. “And what if I don’t want you to feel it?”

“Then I won’t,” you whispered, your hand now resting against his chest, right over his heart. “But I want to help you carry it. I want to be there for you.”

Charles’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he seemed to struggle with something deep inside him, as though he were warring with himself. Then, slowly, he reached up, his hand covering yours as it rested on his chest. His touch was warm, gentle, and yet there was a tension in the way he held you, as though he were afraid to let go.

“I don’t deserve that,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Your heart clenched at his words, and without thinking, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you until your lips were inches from his. “You deserve so much more than you think, Charles.”

And then you kissed him.

It was soft at first, tentative, as though you were testing the waters, waiting to see if he would pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, his hand tightened around yours, and you felt him respond, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that surprised you both.

The kiss deepened, the years of longing, pain, and desire pouring into it with a ferocity that neither of you had expected. You could feel the way his body tensed beneath you, the way his breathing quickened as he lost himself in the moment.

Before you knew it, you were climbing into his lap, straddling him as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. Charles groaned against your lips, his hands sliding up your thighs, gripping your hips as though he were afraid you might disappear if he let go.

“Are you sure about this?” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with desire and hesitation.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your forehead resting against his as you smiled softly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

His response was a low, guttural sound that sent a thrill racing through you, and before you knew it, he was kissing you again, more desperate this time, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and Charles let out a breathless laugh, the sound vibrating against your lips as you finally managed to push the fabric aside, revealing the hard planes of his chest. You ran your hands over his skin, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Charles let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes that broke your heart. “You’re the first person who’s ever said that to me.”

You smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his neck. “Then they’re all fools.”

His hands were everywhere, exploring your body as though he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His touch was gentle at first, almost reverent, but there was a fire behind it, a need that he had kept buried for far too long.

When you finally peeled off your shirt, you heard him suck in a breath, his eyes darkening with desire as he took you in. “God, you’re—” His voice broke off, as though he couldn’t quite find the words, but you didn’t need him to.

You kissed him again, your hands sliding down his chest, feeling the way his body responded to you, the way he trembled beneath your touch. You could feel the tension between you building, the air thick with anticipation.

And then, slowly, you began to move against him, your hips grinding against his in a rhythm that had both of you gasping for breath. Charles’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you, matching your movements with a desperate need.

“Please,” he breathed, his voice ragged.

You didn’t need to ask what he wanted. You could feel it, the desire, the longing, the need for release that had been building between you for so long. You reached between your bodies, your fingers making quick work of the zipper of his pants.

When he finally slid into you, the sensation was overwhelming—an electric jolt that sent shockwaves through your entire body. Charles let out a broken gasp, his hands gripping

as he pulled you closer, his body trembling beneath yours. You could feel the tension in him, every muscle wound tight, as if he were barely holding himself together.

You both paused for a moment, the sheer intensity of the connection stealing the breath from your lungs. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this, like every nerve in your body had come alive, attuned to him and only him. Charles's forehead pressed against your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin as you both adjusted, savoring the feeling of being so intimately joined.

“God,” he whispered, almost reverently. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

Your fingers slid up into his hair, cradling his head, and you pressed a soft kiss to the top of it, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his voice. “Then take me, Charles. I’m yours.”

That was all the permission he needed.

With a low, guttural sound, Charles’s grip on your hips tightened, and he began to move beneath you, slow at first, a steady rhythm that made you gasp with every roll of his hips. He filled you so perfectly, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. You matched his pace, rocking against him, savoring the slow burn that built between you, the friction pulling you both closer to the edge with every passing second.

Charles’s hands roamed your body, sliding up your back, tracing the curve of your spine, then slipping lower, his fingers digging into your skin with barely restrained intensity. His lips found your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

“Charles…” you gasped, your head tilting back as you gave him more access.

His lips parted against your skin, and you could feel the groan that rumbled in his chest. “I can feel you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Every thought, every emotion—it’s overwhelming.”

You leaned back, meeting his gaze. His eyes were heavy-lidded, dark with need, but there was something else there too—something raw, something so deep and primal that it made your heart race.

“Don’t hide from me,” you whispered, your hands cradling his face. “Feel me. All of me.”

Charles’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if letting go of the barriers he had so carefully constructed. And then, all at once, it hit you—the full weight of his mind brushing against yours, the flood of emotions crashing over you like a tidal wave.

It wasn’t just desire you felt—though that was certainly there, sharp and electric, searing through your veins. It was everything. His longing, his fear, the deep well of sadness that had haunted him for so long, and underneath it all, a love so profound it left you breathless.

You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as the sensation of his mind intertwining with yours sent a jolt of pleasure through you, heightening everything. The room around you seemed to fade, the only thing that existed in that moment was him—his body, his mind, and the way he was utterly consuming you.

Charles groaned, his hips bucking up into you with a sudden intensity that made you cry out. “I’ve never felt anything like this,” he panted, his voice strained, as though he were on the edge of losing control.

You could barely form words, the pleasure building inside you almost unbearable. “Charles, please…”

He understood without needing to ask. His hands slid down to your hips again, guiding you faster now, his movements more urgent, more desperate. You could feel the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter, like a spring wound too far, ready to snap.

And then, with one hard thrust, you shattered.

A wave of ecstasy washed over you, white-hot and all-consuming, leaving you trembling in its wake. You cried out his name, your body arching against his, and you could feel him lose himself in the moment too, his hands gripping you so tightly it almost hurt as he followed you over the edge.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, the only sound in the room your ragged breaths and the thrum of your racing heartbeat. You slumped against Charles, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you both came down from the high.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, as though afraid to let go. You could still feel the echo of his mind against yours, the connection between you not quite severed, and it brought a sense of intimacy that was unlike anything you had ever known.

After a long moment, Charles broke the silence, his voice soft and hoarse. “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Neither did I.”

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes were still dark, but there was a softness to them now, a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You frowned slightly. “For what?”

“For reminding me what it’s like to feel something other than pain.” His voice was filled with a quiet reverence, as though he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore, Charles. I’m here.”

He smiled, a real, genuine smile that made your heart flutter. “I know.”

You shifted slightly, still straddling his lap, and Charles let out a soft groan. The movement stirred something in you both, a flicker of desire reigniting as your bodies remained entwined.

“You know,” you said playfully, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest, “we’ve got the whole mansion to ourselves tonight.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, his smile turning into something more mischievous. “Is that so?”

You leaned in, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Maybe we should take advantage of that.”

His breath hitched, and you felt his hands tighten on your hips. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You smiled against his skin, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “Then I’ll make it a night you won’t forget.”

With that, you began to move again, slow and teasing, savoring every moment of the night ahead.

[dilf-docs]

X Si Volvemos

ex older bf!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: there are many things you and logan disagree in; but not when it comes to things in bed.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (phew), smut, ex!logan, exes to ????, p in v, creampie, reader's in her early to middle twenties so her frontal lobe hasn't developed yet; don't expect any reasonable thinking on her side, logan is on his middle to late 40s, angst (duh), this happens in an AU where mutants don't exist bc i don't wanna complicate myself with timelines lol hence time isn't really important but it's contemporary, the vibes i bring to the function are more sad than horny and i'm sorry, toxic too! may build a series around it?

word count: 1,925 words

side note: the incredible @bpmiranda's got me with a very bad case of ex!logan fever :( plus after listening to karol G's album mañana será bonito and seeing i may or may not be obssesed with romeo santos, i got the song in the title on loop: as you can see, it's all very fitting ++ don't forget to check out her stories, they're so good istg!!!!

You shouldn't call.

"Logan" you speak. His name burns in the tip of your tongue, like a secret you're not supposed to tell.

He shouldn't answer.

It's quiet at first on the other line, until a rough voice says I'm here, appearing to be distant, but who is he trying to fool? As soon as he saw the number pop on the screen, his fingers moved with a learned urgency.

You shouldn't keep calling.

"I need you" three words to cover those you actually mean; hanging in the spaces between the silence.

I miss you. I love you.

Your hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

He shouldn't keep answering.

"Princess..." Logan pleads, "don't do this"

You know better than that, he wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut. Just to hear your voice, just to-

"Please, Lo" you whine out. Logan grabs his jeans with force, the fabric strained under his white-knuckled grip. It takes him a lot not to run to you right there and now.

"Don't" but his voice cracks as much as his resistance.

"I've got the house" you whisper the prayer; a routine so sacred none of you seem to break it, "just for us"

"Y/n" even saying your name is painful; like the most addicting and damaging drug to ever exist, "stop"

Logan loved your stubborn heart, but there are times where he wishes you weren't like this.

"I'm sorry" and then he hangs up.

I'm sorry for not being who you needed. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I keep on coming back after I said I would leave you alone. I'm sorry I can't keep my promises.

You feel it around your neck―bruises in the vocals your voice has failed to scream; it chokes you with rage.

"Are you stupid?" you ask yourself in the mirror.

What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you love him more than you love you?

You dial again, but this time, it's a girl who picks up.

"Yeah?"

"Hi. Wanna go out?"

Logan feels so out of place, but this used to be your favorite bar, and he's desperate for a drink.

Listening to your voice has always made him weak, but after you broke up, it drives him crazy.

He empties another glass, feeling pathetic. This is how bad it's gotten: you've got him scouring the places you used to go, chasing your ghost, trying to get a glimpse of your silhouette or a whiff of the phantom of your scent, the lavender haunting him; getting under his skin.

A song beggins playing, and it's the same vinyl set from two years ago. The night he met you: a pretty young thing so out of place in an old bar like that, playing hard to get, only to end the night moaning over him, fogging his car's windows, saying his name in a way no one else had before. He still remembers the way your legs trembled but he held you, beads of sweat confusing themselves with the glitter on your skin. Logan doesn't know what that is, but he's marveled, so in awe of you, everything of you: young, new, exciting.

But every new thing wears out, and the gap he swore wouldn't matter came crashing in years that built a distance between him and you.

So he did what he did best: ruin it. Deny the feelings bubbling inside; let them consume his reasoning, pushing you like he had done with everyone who cared about him before.

When he broke your heart, he took a part with him. So you keep coming back, looking for it; trying to piece yourself together. And he let's you: because God knows you have a part of himself too.

He's so drunk he probably imagines the hint of lavender in the whiskey tinted air. He's so desperate to see you again, he's seeing your face among the crowd. He's definitely gone insane: hearing that laugh he misses every day.

"Y/n..."

The music pauses: all you can hear is your name being said in that way like it belongs to him.

"...Logan"

He walks in autopilot over to the table you and a group of girls are sitting. They're all beautiful―beautiful people attract beautiful people, but he's only got eyes for you.

"What are you doing here?"

He raises a glass he didn't know he was carrying, "having a drink".

Your lips purse, and Logan doesn't know if it's because you're laughing at him or sad.

"I see" but you divert your gaze, looking at your outfit's neck. The outfit you chose: a black dress that pushes your tits on top. They are on display, and Logan feels played by you―his eyes trained on the strained fabric, tongue watering like it did when he would lick your sensitive nipples.

"I see too" he says in automatic, and one of your friends laughs. He looks away, thanking the low lights, or you'd see the red embarrassment on his face.

You stand up and walk over to him, and your friends sense it's time to leave the two of you alone.

"Why did you hang up?" you throw the question so casually; the nerve you have.

"What do you mean?" it's the only thing that comes to his mind. Very stupid, indeed.

You scoff, "delete my number, then"

"You keep on calling" he bites back.

"And you keep answering"

You never shut up. He hates that.

"I may have to stop"

You get closer, way too closer. So much, your hot breathe clouds his judgment.

"Try to" you dare.

And he tries, he really tries. But not today.

Not today when he takes you home, finally looking complete with you in it again. You had moved out after your last discussion, saying you'll never be back.

"You haven't changed a thing" you murmur in between kisses, and he can sense a bit of melodrama in his voice that makes him roll his eyes despite the dull ache on his chest.

He picks up your body swiftly, carrying you up to the bedroom.

"Why would I?" he asks, voice so low and small you almost miss it.

"Because you hate me" you avoid his eyes, even if your faces are too close, loosing all that corageous character of yours, "said you would get rid of it; of everything that reminded you of me"

But when he drops you softly on the matress, there's still that lamp you got him in the night table.

"I couldn't" he confesses.

I couldn't, he means, because I couldn't let you go.

But you both know it won't work out, something you knew right from the start: because toxic loves only fulfill basic needs. This isn't healthy, but he forgets it all as soon as you're moaning his name. Still, he promises himself he will say goodbye to you this time, even if it's inside of you.

"Shut up and kiss me, then" you're always pushing him around, making him do the things he desires to but doesn't want to do.

So he obliges, leaning in, the lavender so strong all over your sweet skin, poisoning his mouth on every kiss he leaves. He feels you squirm under him, goosebumps along your skin, prickling against his, so visible he can see and feel it even in the dim lit room.

"Take it" Logan doesn't look at you, but when he does, you feel him stare deep into your soul, "I know you want it"

He's sliding his dick inside you as soon as the sentence is over, the permission to take you and use you implicit. He robs a drawn-out groan out of you.

"So tight for me" he murmurs against your shoulder, sharp breaths and soft groans flooding your ears. His cock hits deep within you, hard thrust no one has ever been able to replicate, making you gasp for air, burying your face in the plush pillows now drenched in your sweat.

"You're so deep" you hiss, hot and overwhelmed, waves of pleasure hitting like water against cliffside rocks. "So big, Lo" you whine, dizzy at the way your pussy stretches for him.

"Just for you" he grunts out, and it's the truth. No matter how dark the room is or how many faces he avoids, he always looks into the eyes of the other women he fucks, his heart sinking when he can no longer pretend it's you, "fuck, squeeze a bit more".

Hearing his deep voice, rough when you fuck, always making you soak, coating his dick in your juices. You grip tight, as tight as the nails that hold onto his shoulders, making him moan at the pain.

"Like that, princess. Good girl" you moan at the praise, "I know you could take me, all of me"

He grunts and pants, holding you tighter as his cock pumps faster, in sync with your now closer to happening orgasm.

Before it, he slows down his thrusts, "where do you want me to cum, princess?"

He wants to, inside of you, but he can't do so, not when he promised he wouldn't ruin your life. But making you his, marking you as only his, makes his dick inside you twitch. Fuck, he's so balls deep inside you all he can think is filling you up silly.

"Inside me, Lo" like you read his thoughts, and it always amazes and scares him; how deep inside his mind you are. Never happened, not in his four decades of life. And that's part of the problem: he's closer to death than you are but it's only with you, young―blossoming with life, that he feels truly alive.

So how can he say no, when you plead and beg with those pretty doe eyes of yours? Who could imagine such a sweet thing to be so needy. He feels like you could ask for his heart, and he'd carve a hole in his body for you―bleeding out of love; dying with a smile.

"Such a greedy little thing, princess" he mocks, but his tone betrays him―dripping in adoration, "want me to fill you up all nice?"

A broken wail is what he takes as your answer, your mind in blank.

He finds himself letting go, way faster than he should; he just misses you and your needy dripping pussy that much. You can't hold back longer either, rush flowing through your veins, much more satisfying than the alcohol you had drank an hour ago.

Logan paints your insides with layers of his hot cum, mumbling a soft:

"Anything for my princess" he keeps going, panting as he's milked entirely dry, "anything you want, my girl"

Your vision is still spotty, mind fogged: you're sure that's the reason the hurt hasn't settled in your heart yet.

Then the silence comes, like it always does now.

"Y/n" you always love when he calls you by your name, but you hate the way he's saying it now. Like a goodbye.

"Don't-" you plead, begging he shuts up. But he pulls out, and says:

"It's for the best"

You don't want what's best. You want him.

"Can't believe you wore this dress" he traces the pattern of the tight clothes, damped in sweat, "you know it's my favorite. Why?"

You fail to supress a smile, even if it's tired and almost sad, "I knew you couldn't say no".

The truth is, you know many things: like how this is never going to stop until it's destroyed you both.

[magnetostits]

this meme with the magnet family

[pollackpatrol]

Round 2!!

[keigohawks]

okay yall where is the young charles xavier content its dry as fuck on here. i need me some good shit to read.

[panbotter]

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ENDING WHY WOULD THEY DO THIS TO MEEEEEEE

ALSO YOUNG APOCALYPSE???

THE QUEER UNDERTONES BETWEEN CHARLES AND ERIK IN THE BAR????

SCOTT'S WORDS FOR NATHAN??????? LITERALLY TEARED UP

THE QUEER SUBTEXT WITH BASTIONS SELF HATRED????? INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA TRIGGERED BY HIS MOTHER'S HATRED???

THE PHOENIX?!??!?!? LOOKED FUCKING AMAZING??!???! AFTER NATHAN FINALLY CALLED JEAN HIS MOM?!?!?

ALL THE CAMEOS?!?!?!?

SINISTER GETTING OWNED?!?!?

BASTION BEATING NATHAN WITH HIS OWN ARM!?!?! WTF

ERIK PROCESSING HIS TRAUMA?!?!?!??

ROGUE GOING FUCKING NUTS?!?!? SAYING TO REMEMBER GAMBITS NAME????

THE MAGNETO PROTOCOL????

THE FOUND FAMILY THEME THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE EPISODE???

PETER PARKER AND MARY JANE CAMEO THAT U COULDNT EVEN TELL?!??!?!

MORPH BEING IN LOVE WITH LOGAN?!?!?

FORGE GETTING A NEW TEAM TOGETHER?????

ALSO BISHOOOOOOOPPPPPPPP

THE X MEN SCATTERED AROUND DIFFERENT TIMES?!?!?!?

where the fuck are Logan, Morph, and Storm