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Spider-man’s Sidekick +18

Jean Grey x fem!reader

Summary: as the days go by, your bond with Jean strengthens. With Peter unable to get any answers the Spidey-way, you decide to jump into action and investigate Damage Control. But maybe it’s not that good of an idea

Warning(s): mentions of kidnapping, protective Jean Grey, fingering (r!receiving), horny Jean Grey, seriously she’s always down for a quickie, slight jealous Jean Grey, lame jokes

Word count: 4.7k words

Part I Part II Part III

As the days passed, Jean waited while Peter tried to get some information out of the Department of Damage Control, a feat that was proving to be impossible to accomplish for your friend.

Jean was getting frustrated, and you could tell. Her thoughts were more erratic the more time she waited; her hands always twisted together in a tell of nervousness that made your heart squeeze.

She was being patient, for you. You knew it; she could twist it any way she wanted, but you could read her mind, after all. You knew she wanted to prove to you she was more than Spider-man’s villain of the week.

And so she waited, and waited, and took out all her frustration in a delicious way.

“Fuck, Jean,” you moaned against her ear.

“You’re being so good,” Jean whispered in your mind. The feeling of her non-corporeal voice inside of you felt like a gust of freezing air against the walls of your mind.

And speaking of walls… her fingers were hitting the right spots inside of you and bringing you to stupid tears.

You moaned her name as you came, and the chill that ran over her spine let you know she too had come. You rested your head on the pillow, your damp hair sticking to your forehead. With her free hand, Jean pushed it away from your face.

“Pretty,” she whispered, inspecting you. Your cheeks were flushed, and your chest was raising and falling rapidly as you tried to gather your breathing.

She gave your collarbone one more kiss before she pulled away. You shivered as her fingers left your body, making you feel hollow.

“Thank you,” you said. You raised a hand and put it on Jean’s equally damp cheek.

“Well, I gotta keep my girl satisfied,” she smirked against your lips, trying to kiss you as you chuckled.

You grabbed the back of her hair and pushed her away. “That’s not what I meant.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’re being patient,” you explained. She looked away and sighed. “I know it’s hard, so… thank you. For trying.”

“For you,” she murmured against your neck. You put your hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her gently. She rested her head on your chest, one of her hands raising to rest on your boob. You tried to ignore the feeling her touch gave you. “I don’t want you to… I don’t know, be disappointed because I did things the wrong way.”

Her thumb ran over your nipple tenderly, and you hissed. Too overstimulated yet.

“I know,” you told her, putting your hand on top of hers. With the flick of a finger, your arm was pushed against the pillow and she started to caress your hardened bundle of nerves again. “Shit, Jean—”

“How long?” She asked, pushing up on her hand to look at you. With one hand grabbing your chest and the other holding her up right beside your head on the pillow, you felt equally trapped and protected.

“Two days,” you said. “If Peter—”

She pushed her head down and kissed you hard. “Don’t say a man’s name while I’m fucking you.”

You bit her bottom lip when she tried to pull away, making her stay for another wet kiss.

“If he can’t find any information, we do it your way.”

She smirked. “How about we do it our way? You’re surprisingly levelheaded.”

“Surprisingly?” You raised an eyebrow.

She parted her lips and sucked on your nipple, making you gasp. “Yes,” she whispered in your mind, her mouth otherwise quite occupied.

“Fuck—”

Hey, there were far less healthy coping mechanisms than having sex when frustrated. You could get used to it; to her, kissing your lips and licking your skin and forcing pretty noises out of your mouth every day.

As she entered your cunt with two of her fingers, you realized you couldn’t get used to it; you had already gotten used to it.

And you really, really didn’t want to live without it.

You were starting to blur the lines between Jean’s mind and your own.

Her thoughts would take up a big chunk of your mind, occupying it in a non-invasive manner that brought warmth to your chest. She was there even when you were both buildings away, talking to you playfully as you worked. You had forbidden her from visiting you at work, as there were always a few cops around the store looking for a quick snack between patrols. If they saw a hooded woman walking around a Deli after sights of another hooded woman causing hammocks around town… yeah, it was better if she stayed home, since she seemed quite dedicated to her aesthetic of mysterious entity about to possess you.

Not that you wouldn’t mind her possessing you.

“I heard that.”

You rolled your eyes, restacking the cups of noodles onto the shelves. The store went through them like crazy.

With a hum, you put a few aside to take home, making a mental note of paying for it before you closed the register for the night. You wanted Jean to try them out; she had, to your utter shock, a very high spice tolerance, and liked ramen a lot. Especially at night, after getting her share of fun with you within the sheets.

“I didn’t think anything,” you replied, folding the box the ramen cups came in. You shoved the box down the trash out front, right beside the door.

“Yes you did,” Jean said. Her tone was teasing, and every time she teased her voice got raspy and low. You loved it. “Want me to control you and make you fuck yourself?”

“Your libido is scarily high,” you replied, after holding onto the trash can to gather your bearings.

“What can I say? It’s not my fault; my girl is really hot. You should take a look.”

“What—”

Your mind got invaded by images of yourself, naked and gasping for air as you came. They were all from Jean’s perspective, and it was easy to tell as messy strands of red hair could be seen in the corner of the image.

“Jean.” You hissed.

“What?” She asked, so innocently you want to seethe. Closing your eyes, you pictured Jean’s face, full of freckles and a cocky smile that made you grind your teeth together. With the image in mind, you raised your invisible hand and slapped her.

“Ow.”

“Don’t do that again,” you threatened, but the knowing pleased feeling that answered your question let you know she was definitely going to do it again. Probably at the worst time possible.

“When do you get off of work?” She asked. You heard the sound of a page turning and you raised an eyebrow.

“Are you reading a book?”

Jean laughed. “No, I’m reading your diary.”

“Jean—”

“I’m joking. I know that’s invading your privacy or whatever. I found this magazine lying around.”

“Oh,” you said. “What is it about?”

“Did you know Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston broke up?”

You let out a loud laugh at her words, right in the middle of the street. “Yes, in the two thousands, I think. Where did you find that thing?”

“Under the sofa.”

“Okay, Peter has been lying to me about cleaning the living room.”

“Told you he’s shady,” Jean said in a singsong voice.

“So is the landlord,” you replied. “Has he not fucking moved the sofa in decades?”

You felt Jean move; a shrug, or the closest thing to it without being an actual corporeal figure. “It’s heavy. I only managed to lift it up because I used my super cool powers.”

“Good to know you can use them on something other than me.”

Jean let out a small chuckle. “You love it.”

And damn it, you did. You wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of admitting it, though.

“Fine, don’t admit,” Jean said. “I’ll fuck that confession out of you tonight.”

You couldn’t believe you had started dating a horn dog that could read your thoughts and that had the dirtiest mouth in all of New York.

“Ramen tonight,” you said instead.

“Yay,” she replied.

The spicy sauce clinged to Jean’s lips as the door opened.

In came Peter, with a backpack hanging from one of his shoulders and a look of defeat. You sighed before he could close the door.

“Bill won’t tell me anything,” he admitted.

Your shoulders dropped. Jean continued eating, chewing aggressively as she looked between you and Peter.

You gave her a raised eyebrow and she put the chopsticks back into the cup. She cleared her throat and used a napkin to wipe her mouth. “Thank you for trying anyway, Peter.”

“I’ll keep trying,” he promised. You knew he meant it; when Peter set his mind to a noble cause, he didn’t stop until he had found a solution.

“I think it’s time we take a more… proactive approach on this,” you declared as soon as Peter reentered the room in his sleep clothes.

“Oh?” Peter said. Jean leaned back against the chair and looked at you. She was unnerving when she was quiet; you were so used to her in your mind and in your ear the silence was almost deafening. But you were thankful for the chance at explaining yourself without being interrupted.

“I say we go in there and try to discover what they’re hiding,” you said, looking at your friend.

Peter sighed and sat down in front of you, reaching for your half-empty cup of ramen to start devouring it.

He swallowed the food in his mouth before he spoke. “How?”

Jean gave him a look. “You’re not against this?”

Peter shrugged. “I… I’ve been suspecting Damage Control for a while. Sure I’ve been helping them, but… yeah, I wouldn’t bet on them to be totally clean.” He scratched the back of his head. “Their existence is convenient to me. They take care of the bad guys and ship them off to the appropriate locations to keep them away from the public. But…”

You looked at him, but his eyes were sorely on Jean. She parted her lips and asked: “But what?”

“Maybe they’re also keeping innocent people against their will.”

And there it was. The admission that he had been wrong. That his judgment had been clouded by his willingness to see the good in everyone, no matter the circumstances.

You reached forward and squeezed his arm. He put his hand on top of yours.

“If we do this right,” you said softly; the words held too much weight to them. “If we uncover their sketchy shit… so many people will be freed. Able to live without having to constantly look over their shoulder.”

Jean looked to the side, understanding the implications of your statement; a life free of any governmental interference, able to go outside without being paranoid. With her sister. With you.

“We should start with something small,” Peter said. “I don’t think what they’re doing is right, but they’re powerful. Too many buildings scattered around the country. We will need some good leads or else it’ll be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

Jean sighed. “And if they have Sara… they can just move her around locations. The search would never end.”

“Yes,” Peter nodded.

You observed them. They were quite similar, despite their clear insistence that they weren’t. Knew it or not, they both wore their heart out on their sleeve, and they fought for what was right; the only problem was Jean lived in a more… grey area of viewing the world —no pun intended. She was pessimistic, thinking the worst and hoping for the best, while Peter was so optimistic he always hoped for the best and prepared for the worst case scenario. And yet… the same fiercely protectiveness, the same determination to aid those they considered in need of help, and to right every wrong they ever did.

You were so thankful you had decided to give Jean a chance. You might have been the first person to do so, the only one to offer her the opportunity to redeem herself.

“We should hack into their system first,” Jean said as Peter finished the rest of your food.

You pouted, and Jean handed you her cup of noodles before draping an arm over your shoulders.

“No hacking,” Peter said, pointing at Jean with his chopsticks. “They have insane security. Like, the pentagon.”

“Not on their own computers,” Jean said. Her hand raised as you turned to look at her, and she pressed her thumb against the back of your neck, massaging your tense muscles.

“Metzger,” Peter murmured. “If anyone has info on where your sister is, it’s him.”

You closed your eyes, the massage Jean was giving you melting away all your tension.

“We need a distraction,” you said, eyes still unopened. “Something to drive him away from his office enough time so I can sneak in and search on his computer.”

“You?” Peter and Jean asked, their voices a synchronized cacophony of worry and rejection.

“Yes, me,” you said, looking at Jean. “You will be the distraction, and Peter will pretend to try to stop you.”

“You’re not getting close to that place alone,” Jean said. The hand on your neck moved to grab you. “I mean it. I won’t let you.”

“You can’t let me do shit,” you threw back. “I’m my own person, I make my own decisions. And you know it’s the best plan.”

“Not if it risks you,” Jean said.

“Even if it means never seeing your sister again?” You asked. You knew it was a low blow, but you needed her to understand; there was no time to get overprotective when someone’s life was on the line.

She squeezed the back of your neck tighter before she let go of you. Without saying a word, she stood up and walked to your room.

“At least she’s not storming off into the night dramatically anymore,” Peter commented.

You rolled your eyes. “Give her a few minutes and she might. She’s a total diva.”

Peter shook his head, amused. “I am worried too, you know?” He whispered. “About you. I always worry about you. And this… this can go wrong really fast. Metzger is cunning and always two steps ahead.”

“So we take three steps tomorrow,” you said.

“You’re not being reckless just because you like her, are you?” Peter asked.

“No,” you answered truthfully. “I mean, I do like her. A lot. And I want her to find her sister. But…” You shook your head. “But that man… if damage control is going after people like her, who’s to say I won’t be next? You know… you know I’m not like you.”

Peter’s lips twisted. He knew; he had been there when you first presented your powers, too young to understand that moving on things with your mind was far more dangerous than it was cool. He had helped you lie every time you were almost caught, making a fool of himself to get you off the metaphorical hot water.

“You’re just like me,” Peter said, squeezing your hand. “And so is Jean, and her sister.”

“Not to them.”

Peter sighed. “I know. And… you’re right. If we don’t take care of them, they will start to get bolder. Shift the narrative so they’re still the good guys. It could get bad.”

“We won’t let it get bad,” you said.

“We won’t,” he promised. You hoped he was right.

She was in bed when you entered the room, lying on her side with her back facing the door. You sighed and turned on the light.

“Jean.”

She didn’t answer. You walked to your bed and sat down, putting a hand in her arm. She was hugging your pillow tightly, her face buried into it.

“I know you’re not asleep,” you said, shaking her.

“I don’t wanna talk.”

“Why?” You asked, stretching your neck so you could kiss her shoulder.

“I’m rude when I’m frustrated, and right now I’m incredibly frustrated.” She hugged the pillow tighter. “I don’t wanna scream at you. I don’t want to be mean to you.”

You grabbed her shoulder and pushed until she was laying on her back. With a succession of quick movements, you pulled the pillow away from her arms and sat on her lap, each leg on either side of her hips.

“If you’re mean I’ll just tell you to fuck off,” you said.

“Promise?” She asked. Her voice was thin and quiet.

You leaned forward and hovered over her body. “I swear. I love telling you to fuck off.”

She chuckled, her hands going up your legs and into your waist, which she grasped to push your entire body flush against hers.

“You’re not going to Metzger’s office,” she said.

“The plan is non-negotiable, sorry. Leader rules,” you replied.

“Don’t make me beg, please.”

You held back the need to comment on how she was already begging. Instead, you laid on her chest.

“You can’t stop me from living my life, Jean. We met because I am Spider-man’s sidekick. My life has been dangerous way before you started talking to me in my head.”

“I know,” she said. “And I know it comes with the job, as Peter says. And I know I can’t stop from being a hero and saving everyone, but…” She took a deep breath and you hoisted yourself under her chin. “But I can’t watch you put yourself at risk for me. Not with Metzger. Anyone but him. He has taken too much from me already.”

“Jean… you’re not going to lose me.”

“You don’t know that. The same way I don’t know what I would do if he took you. I… I’m trying to be better. Do better. For you, and for the illusion of a better future full of freedom. But if I don’t have you… I don’t want to turn into the monster they already think I am.”

You raised a hand and pressed it against her cheek. “It’s the only way.”

“So we’ll find another way.”

“Jean.”

Your hand started to feel damp. You raised your head and saw Jean, with her lips pursed and chin trembling and eyes full of tears.

“Baby,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against hers. “Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t lose you,” she said in a choked tone, pressing her warm palms against your cheeks. “I can’t risk you. Please don’t ask me to do it.”

“Just this once,” you promised. “Let me help, Jean. I can’t watch from the sidelines as you both risk your lives. Metzger wants you too, we would be fools if we didn’t think he does; you can’t ask me not to let you risk me when you’re forcing me to risk you.”

Her thumb went down and caressed your neck. She looked at the spot intensely, as if expecting to see a tranquilizer dart appear to pierce your skin.

“I hate you,” she said. “You and your stupid noble heart.”

You kissed her cheek. “Thanks.”

“If they get you—”

“They won’t,” you promised.

“If they get you, everything else be damned. I’m getting you out. I don’t care how many people die for getting in my way.”

Her eyes were sparkling with tears and burning fire. You could tell it wasn’t a promise; she was telling you exactly what she would do if the situation came down to it.

“Good.” You kissed her hard. “I won’t judge you.”

She sat up, and you went with her, moving against her lap until you got comfortable.

She grabbed one of your hands and turned it around to kiss your palm. Her eyes were on you the entire time, her stare so intense it made you feel like you were on fire.

“My grandmother was from Ireland,” she said.

You twisted your finger around one of her curls. “That explains the hair.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t let go of your hand. “She came here with nothing on her name. Her parents died when she was young, of hunger. They withered away but they kept her feed. And you know the funny thing?”

“What?” You asked.

“They never sold their wedding ring,” she said. You frowned, not understanding where she was getting at. “They died of starvation but holding onto the only physical representation of their love, for each other and their daughter.”

“There’s nothing more beautiful than dying for someone you love,” you whispered.

“Indeed,” she said. “All my grandma had was a ring. It was small on her, so she wore it around a thread of leather from some old jacket. She held onto it until she met my grandpa, and asked him one thing.”

“What was it?”

“That if he ever proposed, he would have to do it with her mother’s ring. And so he did. And when they got married and had my mom, she passed it off to her. She never wore it on her finger— like I said, too small. And my mom didn’t either. Said it was ugly.”

“She sounds lovely.”

Jean laughed. “When Sara and I were kicked out, we sneaked back in that same night to get the ring. Sara didn’t care much for it, but I loved it. Every time I looked at it, it was like I wasn’t alone; my granny said it protected whoever wore it. So she stole it for me. We got caught on the way out, and that’s how we ended up on the system. My mother didn’t do anything to stop the police as we got separated and taken away.”

You closed your eyes and counted to ten. The need to slap that woman in the face made your heart pump with anger.

“Look,” she said. Jean pulled one of her many rings from her hand and showed it to you. You grabbed delicately, turning it around to admire the craftsmanship. It was old-timey, but not in a tacky way; it was elegant and delicate, with no stone around it. Just a band of gold shaped on one end like a flower.

“Beautiful,” you whispered.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

“Charmer.”

She grabbed the ring and turned it so the light could hit the metal. “A lily. My grandmother’s mother’s name.”

You stood still as she grabbed your hand once more and slipped the ring into your ring finger. You looked at her once it was all in, blinking.

“I can’t take this, Jean,” you whispered, incredibly touched by the action.

“You will. It’s your reminder that I love you, and that one day I will be worthy enough to marry you.”

“Gosh, it hasn’t even been a month.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“And so? You know what they say; when you know, you know.”

You shook your head, laughing incredulously at her. Never would have you ever imagined a villain turned misunderstood orphan hero would be so wrapped around your finger. You had also never imagined you would be as equally obsessed with said villain.

“You’re surprisingly romantic,” you commented.

“What can I say? You bring the best out of me.”

She smiled, and you squeezed her cheeks and kissed her lips.

“Don’t talk about marriage yet, though. We’re too young,” you said.

“I said it was a promise, not a proposal,” Jean pinched your hip and you jumped. “For the time being, I’m more than happy with being your girlfriend. Nothing more, I promise.” She smiled. “Besides, I don’t think I can marry anyone at the moment. Pretty sure I’m a wanted fugitive.”

“God, why does that sound so hot?”

Jean hug your waist tightly. “Everything I say is hot.”

You kissed her, pouring all your love into the gesture. She returned the kiss just as fiercely, grabbing you and turning you around until your back hit the mattress.

“Pretty,” she whispered, looking down at you. “I would save a million lives every day just to get you like this every night.”

Your heart grew exponentially in size at her words. She wasn’t promising violence; quite the opposite. She was promising to help others, to be better. That meant far more than a threat ever could.

“Good to know I’m your moral compass,” you replied, wrapping your arms around her neck.

She kissed your cheek soundly. “You’re my everything.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re being too cheeky. Want to get some?”

She pulled up your shirt and kissed you right over your belly button. “I always wanna get some with you.”

“Horndog,” you said, sitting up slightly to pull your shirt and bra off. She looked down at you and smiled. “No more hickeys, please. My boobs look like they’ve gotten a mammogram with the Winter Soldier’s metal arm.”

She groaned, biting the side of your neck. “Must you always mention another person when I want to fuck you?”

“Well, your reaction is really funny every time.”

She sat up and pulled off her shirt, no bra in sight to stop you from admiring her body. She was strong, that much you already knew, but she didn’t rely on her powers as much as you had originally expected; a lot of her strength came from her body, her abs and lean arms proof of that.

All that beautiful body, all for you. You would consider yourself greedy if you weren’t so happy with the outcome.

She pulled off your pants while you used your magic to pull hers off. Within a mess of laughter and small curses, you found yourself naked with her on top of you.

She grabbed your hand and kissed your newly acquired ring. “A perfect fit,” she murmured. Her other hand moved to push two fingers inside of you. “Also a perfect fit.”

“You’re a bitch.”

“Your bitch,” she threw back in your mind as you moaned her name.

Just a quick in and out. It was what you had promised Jean before going your separate ways that morning. She had been wearing the outfit you first saw her in; a yellow hoodie with a long coat over it, green pants and combat boots.

Just in and out, no stalling. All you had to do was check Metzger’s computer and get out through the window.

But you had been played. He had known you would come, or had made an estimated guess that if you weren’t with Spider-man, then you were somewhere else. And Peter had been so insistent on knowing more about Jean and whatever else Bill kept hidden that he would have been a fool for not considering a break-in as a very plausible possibility in the close proximity.

And you don’t become the head director of a governmental institution by being a fool.

The dart came from nowhere, and it hit you as you finished typing Sara’s name on the computer. You raised a hand and pulled it off, cursing when you realized it was the same one they used on Jean’s sister in the vision you saw.

“Ah, miss, I can’t say how disappointed I am in you. After working alongside us for so long, you betray us.”

You didn’t had the words to reply to him. Maybe you should have cussed him out. But as you stumbled, Billy moved to grab you and you tried to regain some energy to pull away. He held you as you slowly lost control of your own body, muscles numb and bones unwilling to move. He lowered you to the floor, looking at your mask as if he could see through it.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be of use to us,” Bill said. “You will get back on our good graces. In time.”

“She’s…” You licked your dried lips and looked at him. “She’s going to kill you all.”

It wasn’t a thread. You were warning him. You wanted him to stop this stupid plan —whatever it was— and let you go. You didn’t want to think of what could happen if he didn’t. If the man who took Jean’s sister now took her girlfriend as well…

Not even Peter would be able to stop her. Hell, you weren’t even sure she would be able to stop herself. Not until she had you back in her arms, safe and away from the people that had taken so much from her already.

“Is she?” Bill asked, almost joyfully. “I hope she is. I’ll be waiting for her.”

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