you find yourself a whining mess as she grips the back of your hips. holding you down as she thrusts into you without a care. too angry from earlier when some guy had the nerve to flirt with you at the club. the thought of him even breathing near you sends her in a rage.
“baby- please I wasn’t even looking at him-“ you try to plead as she shoves your face deeper in the pillow to shut you up. she fucks you as she groans from behind. always so hotheaded.
her hand goes back on your hip as she fucks you faster. no longer wanting to hear your excuses. her breathing gets heavy as she groans slightly again. as if she can feel the strap go into you.
“yeah? kept talking to him like he was so fucking funny” she replies as her left hand wanders down over to your clit. playing with it as she finds that enjoyable. matching the timing with her thrusts.
the sight before her is something she revels in. seeing her pretty girl so overstimulated and still bucking against the strap wanting more. she gives you what you want as she puts her weight on top of you.
the sounds of plab plab plab echo throughout the room. of course also with the sounds of your whimpering and moans. her uneven breathing as she stares down at you. whispering soft words.
you see stars as you finally come. she comes at the same time. breathing in your neck as she stays there. doesn’t move before she finally speaks. hearing her sound softer now and no longer filled with jealously.
“you okay sweet girl?” she asks you as you manage a nod. she softly hums at that before slowly moving off of you. pulling out as she moans at the sight of your cum spilling out.
leaving to the bathroom to get a towel to clean you up. as you lift your head up slightly as you hear her move in the bathroom. if there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that getting her jealous gets you a good fuck.
I love your headcanons!! I’d love to see how you think the X-men would react to the reader playfully biting them, in or out of the bedroom, whatever scenario you’d like (you can go with any characters, but bonus points for Logan, Erik, Charles, and perhaps a new one, Victor Creed 👀)
X-MEN CHARACTERS X FEM!READER
You bite them playfully
Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney, Wade Wilson, Victor Creed, Julian Keller, Kitty Pryde, Cable, Warren Worthington III, Morph, Mystique, Magik & Alex Summers
Reply to anon: OMG yes, Victor my little mad dog!
Logan Howlett
- You don’t expect him to react. Not really. He’s endured bullets, blades, and the unrelenting weight of time itself. A playful bite from you should be nothing—should be a drop of rain against an unshakable mountain. And yet, the moment your teeth graze his skin, a low growl rumbles from deep within his chest, something primal and unbidden. His muscles tense beneath your touch, like an animal caught between instinct and restraint.
- His gaze finds yours, sharp and golden, flickering with something unreadable. His lips curl into the faintest smirk, but his eyes betray him—dark with challenge, with something wilder lurking beneath. “That all you got, darlin’?” he rasps, his voice rough as gravel, his fingers curling at his sides as if resisting the urge to seize you right then and there.
- But Logan is nothing if not a man of action. A heartbeat later, his arm is around your waist, pulling you in close, the heat of his body searing against yours. His voice dips lower, a teasing growl, though there’s a dangerous edge to it now. “Y’know what they say, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “You bite a wolf, you better be ready for it to bite back.”
- And he does. Maybe not in the way you expect—not with teeth, but with hands that grip too tight, with lips that press too hard, with a possessiveness that lingers in every touch. Because Logan doesn’t do playful. He does hunger. He does need. And if you dare to tease the beast, you’d best be ready for the storm that follows.
Remy LeBeau
- Remy freezes the moment your teeth press against his skin—not from pain, not from surprise, but from something far more dangerous. The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smirk yet, but the promise of one. And then, ever so slowly, he tilts his head toward you, his red-on-black eyes gleaming with mischief.
- “Ma belle, you tryna kill me?” he drawls, his accent thick and lazy, but his voice carries that unmistakable edge of heat. His fingers brush over your arm, slow and deliberate, as if tracing the intent behind your bite. “'Cause I gotta warn you, chérie… I ain’t the kind to die easy.”
- The next thing you know, he’s got you backed against the nearest surface, one hand braced beside your head, the other tracing the curve of your waist like he’s memorizing the shape of you. His grin is downright wicked now, his gaze molten with amusement and something darker. “See, you play this game wit’ me, mon amour, you best know the rules.” His breath is warm against your lips, teasing, taunting. “You bite me? I devour you.”
- And then he leans in, and oh—Remy doesn’t just kiss. He claims. He teases. He tastes. His lips ghost over yours, never quite giving you what you want, never quite letting you escape, because if you’re going to start a game with the Ragin’ Cajun, you better be ready to lose.
Kurt Wagner
- The moment your teeth sink lightly into his skin, Kurt stills, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, his mind goes utterly blank—because of course you would do this, of course you would find new ways to unravel him, to leave him speechless and stumbling. His tail flicks once, betraying his surprise, before curling around your waist in retaliation.
- And then—oh. Oh, then he laughs. A low, breathy chuckle that rumbles in his chest, warm and so utterly Kurt. “Mein Schatz,” he murmurs, his voice rich with amusement, his golden eyes gleaming. “Was that supposed to be threatening? Because I must say… you might have to try harder.”
- But his tail tightens ever so slightly, his hands settling on your hips, his body pressing just a little closer. His voice drops into something softer now, something teasing but fond. “Or perhaps you weren’t trying to scare me at all,” he muses, brushing his nose against yours, an intimate little gesture that makes your heart stutter. “Perhaps you were simply asking for a little attention, ja?”
- And oh, does he give it. He moves fast—so fast you barely register the shift before you’re elsewhere, whisked away in a blink of smoke and laughter. One moment you’re standing, the next you’re tangled in his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his teleportation, caught between breathless kisses and whispered endearments. Because if you’re going to bite him, liebling, he’s going to make sure you never regret it.
Scott Summers
- Scott’s reaction is immediate—sharp inhale, muscles tensing beneath your touch, jaw tightening as if trying to suppress whatever instinct just surged through him. His discipline, his restraint—it has always been his armor, his cage. But you—you have a habit of making him forget himself.
- “What was that?” he asks, voice lower than usual, a little rough around the edges, though the slight flush creeping up his neck betrays him. His fingers flex at his sides, like he doesn’t know whether to pull you closer or set you firmly away. But his ruby-red gaze is locked onto you now, and he is searching—for your intent, for your reasoning, for something he can brace himself against.
- “You can’t just—” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, as if that will somehow ground him. His lips part, like he wants to scold you, like he wants to tell you biting is not part of a proper battle strategy, but the words never come. Instead, his hand lifts, cups your chin, his thumb grazing over your lower lip in something dangerously close to reverence.
- And then, ever so slowly, his lips brush against yours—light, testing, but oh-so-intense. Because Scott Summers does not give in easily. He does not let himself have. But you—you are different. You are his exception. And if you are going to play with fire, then you had best be prepared to burn.
Jean Grey
- Jean stills the moment your teeth graze her skin, not in fear or surprise, but in the way someone freezes when they have just stepped into the unknown. She has felt so many things in her lifetime—pain, joy, rage, divinity itself—but the sharp, teasing sensation of you doing this? That is something new. Her lips part slightly, a breath catching in her throat, and though she does not speak, you can hear her thoughts as if they are your own: What exactly are you trying to do to me?
- And then, oh, she smiles. Slow, knowing, the corners of her lips curving into something dangerously affectionate. Her fingers trace lightly over your arm, telekinetic energy humming faintly beneath her fingertips as she studies you with emerald eyes that gleam with amusement. “You do realize who you’re dealing with, don’t you?” she murmurs, voice soft but laced with something teasing, something nearly predatory. “You think you can surprise me, love? That’s adorable.”
- But Jean is not one to let challenges go unanswered. The next thing you know, her hand slides to your jaw, tilting your face toward hers with effortless ease. She doesn’t need to use her telekinesis to hold you there—no, the intensity in her gaze alone is enough. “Tell me,” she muses, leaning in so close her lips barely brush against yours. “Do you bite because you want my attention? Or because you already have it?”
- And before you can answer, she kisses you—deep, slow, deliberate. Not just a kiss, but a response, a promise. Because Jean Grey is made of passion and power, and if you wish to tease her, if you wish to provoke her, then you must be prepared for the storm you have just invited into your arms.
Ororo Munroe
- The moment your teeth press gently against her skin, a low, melodic hum escapes her—a sound not of displeasure, but of acknowledgment. Ororo Munroe has spent years cultivating grace, control, an unshakable presence that commands gods and mortals alike. And yet, this—this quiet, playful act of yours—catches her off guard in the most unexpected of ways.
- Her silver eyes flick toward you, gleaming with something unreadable, and for a moment, the air around you shifts, electricity humming faintly in the space between your bodies. Not as a threat, not as a warning, but as a reaction—as if even the very elements themselves are uncertain how to respond to the way you unravel her. “My love,” she says at last, her voice a soft, indulgent purr. “Was that meant to challenge me? Or are you merely being mischievous?”
- Slowly, her fingers trail along your shoulders, feather-light, teasing, carrying the same effortless power as the wind itself. And then, in one smooth motion, she moves—you don’t quite know how, only that one moment you are standing in place, and the next, the storm has wrapped itself around you. You are pulled flush against her, her presence enveloping you in warmth, in strength, in the quiet promise of something far greater than either of you can name.
- “If you seek my attention,” she whispers, her breath brushing against your ear like the gentlest breeze, “you need only ask.” And then, with a slow, deliberate smile, she leans in, her lips brushing over the spot where your bite had just been—a silent response, a wordless challenge of her own. Because if you are to tease a goddess, then you must be ready to be worshipped in return.
Rogue
- The second your teeth sink playfully into her skin, Rogue gasps—sharp, sudden, entirely unprepared. It’s not that she doesn’t like it, not at all, but more that she did not see it coming. For all her strength, all her bravado, you have just done something no enemy, no battle, no nightmare has ever managed to do: you have caught her off guard.
- “Sugah,” she breathes, her accent thickening just a bit, her voice a mixture of amusement and something else—something dangerous. Slowly, her green eyes flick to yours, and oh, that look—half-smirk, half-warning—tells you that you might have just started something you cannot finish. “Did you just… bite me?”
- And then, before you can answer, she does what Rogue does best—she acts. One moment, you are standing comfortably, the next, she has you pinned. Not roughly, not cruelly, but firmly, her gloved hands gripping your wrists, her breath hot against your skin. “Y’know,” she muses, tilting her head as she studies you, “if you wanted my attention that bad, all you had to do was ask.”
- But the glint in her eye betrays her—because for all her teasing, for all her bravado, the truth is simple: she loves this. Loves that you would dare to play with her, loves that you know exactly how to unravel her defenses, how to make her forget the space she so often has to keep between herself and the world. And so, with a wicked little smirk, she leans in, her lips hovering just above yours as she murmurs, “Hope you know what you started, darlin’. ‘Cause I don’t play fair.”
Erik Lehnsherr
- The moment your teeth press against his skin, Erik goes very, very still. Not out of fear, not out of surprise, but out of calculation. He is a man of war, of tragedy, of wounds both seen and unseen, and he has spent his entire life anticipating danger. But this—this playful, fleeting bite from you—is not something he had prepared for.
- And then, slowly, he exhales. Not in frustration, not in anger, but in something far deeper—something like acceptance. His sharp, silver gaze flicks to yours, unreadable yet knowing, and a slow, deliberate smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Liebling,” he murmurs, his voice as smooth as tempered steel. “Do you think this is a game?”
- He does not move immediately. No, Erik prefers patience, prefers anticipation, prefers to let you feel the weight of what you have just done. And then, finally, he acts. His fingers ghost over your jaw, light as a whisper, his touch deceptively gentle. But his grip—when it finally settles—is not. His hand tightens, not cruelly, but possessively, his thumb tracing over your pulse as he studies you like a puzzle he has yet to solve.
- “If you wish to test me,” he muses, his voice a low, dark promise, “then by all means… continue.” And then, in a move so smooth it leaves you breathless, he takes—captures your mouth with his, slow and unyielding, like gravity itself bending to his will. Because Erik Lehnsherr does not play. He conquers. And if you wish to tempt him, then you must be prepared to surrender.
Charles Xavier
- Charles Xavier is a man of the mind, a man who has unraveled the deepest corners of human thought and consciousness, who has witnessed the entirety of existence through the whispers of others’ souls. And yet, for all his knowledge, for all the mysteries he has unraveled, you still find a way to surprise him. The moment your teeth press against his skin—soft, playful, fleeting—he stills, blue eyes widening just slightly, as if he cannot quite believe that you, of all things, could ever be so unpredictable.
- But then, oh, then he laughs. Not a polite chuckle, not the refined sort of amusement he offers in conversations of wit and charm, but something richer, something real. A warm, low sound that spills from his lips like honey, as if you have just whispered the most delightful secret in the world. He tilts his head toward you, curiosity sparking in his gaze, and for a moment, you see it—the boy he once was, the one who believed in the simple joy of being alive. “My dear,” he muses, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips, “are you quite certain you wish to play this game with me?”
- Charles is a scholar, a tactician, a man who has spent his life wielding words and thoughts like weapons, and he is not one to let a challenge go unanswered. Before you can pull away, his fingers ghost along your wrist, light as a whisper, and suddenly—you feel it. Not words, not images, but a sensation, a feeling, as if he is pressing the weight of his affection directly into your soul. This is how he fights back—by letting you feel what you do to him, by drowning you in the sheer, unshakable depth of his love.
- “You are a fascinating creature,” he murmurs, his voice a soft, intimate thing, meant only for you. And then, with deliberate slowness, he leans in, his lips grazing the same spot where your teeth had just been, a silent response, a quiet promise. Because Charles Xavier is a man of the mind—but with you, he has learned to love the body, too.
Wanda Maximoff
- Wanda Maximoff has spent her entire life on the precipice of chaos. Magic flows through her like a storm, raw and untamed, and though she has learned to control it, there is still a part of her that lingers on the edge—uncertain, fragile, waiting for the world to turn against her. But you—you are different. You do not fear her, do not tread lightly as if she is glass that might shatter at the slightest touch. No, you play with her, tease her, press your teeth against her skin in a gesture so human, so simple, that for a moment, she forgets the weight of her own power.
- Her breath catches—just a little, just enough for you to notice. Her fingers curl against your arm, not to push you away, but to steady herself, as if grounding herself in the moment, in you. And then, slowly, her lips curve into something soft, something real. “You’re bold,” she murmurs, her voice laced with quiet amusement, but there is something else there, too—something dangerous. A challenge. A warning. Because Wanda Maximoff is not someone you tease without consequences.
- Before you can react, she moves. The world shifts around you, a flicker of crimson in the air, and suddenly, you are weightless, as if gravity itself has forgotten you exist. Her magic hums against your skin, curling around you like the brush of unseen fingertips, and she watches you with a look that is pure mischief. “Tell me, darling,” she whispers, tilting her head ever so slightly, “was that meant to tempt me?”
- And then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, she leans in—her lips barely grazing your skin, a phantom touch, a promise of something more. Because Wanda Maximoff is chaos incarnate, and if you wish to play with her, then you must be prepared to dance in the storm.
Pietro Maximoff
- It happens so quickly that even you don’t realize what you’ve done. One moment, Pietro Maximoff is standing before you, talking, teasing, filling the space between you with his usual boundless energy, and the next—your teeth graze his skin, a fleeting, playful bite, quick as lightning itself. And then? He’s gone. A blur of silver and laughter, a gust of wind where he once stood.
- But before you can even blink, he is back—and oh, that look on his face. His lips are curled into a smirk, his blue eyes gleaming with something wild, something electric. “Really?” he breathes, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You think you can bite me? Me?” His laughter rings out, sharp and bright, and suddenly, he is moving again—circling you, his presence a flickering pulse in the air, there and gone all at once.
- And then, he strikes. Not with speed, not with force, but with something far worse—anticipation. He stops right behind you, so close that his breath is warm against your ear, his voice a whisper of pure, unfiltered mischief. “You know what they say about quick reflexes, don’t you?” he murmurs, and before you can even think to react, his lips brush against your neck—a flicker of a kiss, a ghost of a touch, so fleeting you almost question if it happened at all.
- And then? He’s gone again. Laughing, running, taunting. Because Pietro Maximoff is not someone who is caught—he is the storm itself, and if you wish to play this game, then you must be prepared to chase the wind.
Hank McCoy
- Hank McCoy is not a man who is easily surprised. He has spent his life in pursuit of knowledge, unraveling the mysteries of science, of genetics, of the very fabric of existence itself. And yet, for all his intellect, for all his careful observations of the world—he does not see you coming. The moment your teeth press playfully into his skin, his entire body freezes, blue fur bristling slightly, golden eyes widening in stunned disbelief.
- “Oh, my stars and garters,” he breathes, his voice carrying the unmistakable weight of a man whose entire world has just shifted. Slowly, his gaze flicks down to you, studying you with the same meticulous focus he applies to his research, as if you are some rare, fascinating discovery he has yet to fully understand. “You do realize,” he murmurs, voice warm and teasing, “that by initiating such an experiment, you are opening yourself up to… repercussions, yes?”
- And then, oh, his smile. Slow, wickedly amused, utterly delighted. Before you can react, he moves—not with the hesitant carefulness of a man afraid of his own strength, but with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how to turn the tables. One moment, you are standing, the next, you are swept off your feet, cradled in arms that are both impossibly strong and impossibly gentle. “Ah,” he muses, adjusting his grip as if holding you is the most natural thing in the world, “I do believe I now have the advantage.”
- And then, with a quiet chuckle, he leans in—not to bite, not to tease, but to kiss the very spot where your teeth had been, slow and deliberate, a scholar testing a theory. Because Hank McCoy is a man of knowledge—but when it comes to you, he is more than willing to be a student of the unknown.
Emma Frost
- The moment your teeth graze her skin, Emma Frost’s response is immediate—a slow, measured inhale, the faintest arch of a perfectly sculpted brow. She does not startle, does not react with anything so crass as surprise. No, Emma assesses. A woman of elegance, of control, she has spent a lifetime ensuring that no one catches her off guard, that no one slips beneath the carefully constructed ice of her composure. And yet, you have done it, a playful bite against porcelain skin, an action so simple yet so bold that, for the briefest moment, even the White Queen falters.
- But then, oh, then she smiles. Slow. Deliberate. Dangerous. A curl of her lips that carries no warmth, only sharp amusement and something far more wicked. “Darling,” she purrs, voice smooth as silk, laced with the faintest edge of laughter, “if you wanted to get my attention, there are… other ways to do so.” Her fingers ghost along your wrist, deceptively gentle, a reminder that while you may have started this game, she is the one who will dictate how it ends.
- She does not retaliate with force, nor does she melt into you like some lovesick fool. No, Emma punishes in the most exquisite way possible—she makes you wait. A brush of her fingertips against your jaw, a lingering glance, the press of her body close enough to promise but never enough to give. “Tell me,” she murmurs, tilting her head, voice rich with amusement, “was that truly your best effort?”
- And then, when you least expect it, she strikes. A shift of movement so swift, so precise, that you don’t even register it until it’s happening—her lips against your pulse point, her teeth grazing the same spot where you dared to mark her. It is not surrender. It is not an answer. It is a lesson. A warning. A challenge. Because Emma Frost does not lose—but she does enjoy playing with her prey.
Laura Kinney
- The moment your teeth press into her skin, Laura reacts. No hesitation, no pause—her body tenses, muscles coiling like a predator poised to strike. Instinct kicks in before thought, before reason, before she can even register that it’s you. And for a split second, you feel it—the sheer, terrifying violence that lurks beneath her skin, the razor’s edge of a woman who has spent her entire life as a weapon.
- But then, just as quickly as the tension rises, it fades. A sharp exhale, a flicker of recognition, golden eyes narrowing as she processes what you’ve done. There is no laughter, no teasing retort—just a look. Calculating. Intense. Confused, but not displeased. “…You bit me,” she says at last, voice flat, as if stating the most bizarre fact in the world.
- And then? She tilts her head, considering you in that unnerving, almost animalistic way of hers. “Why?” The question is genuine—Laura has never been one for mind games or coy affections, has never understood the subtle language of teasing and playfulness. Biting is something she associates with combat, with survival. But with you? With you, it is different.
- Slowly, tentatively, she mirrors the action. A nip, precise and measured, as if she is testing this new form of affection, as if she is learning you the way she has learned every other part of the world—through experience, through instinct. And when she pulls back, there is something new in her gaze, something raw and unspoken. Because Laura Kinney may not understand why you did it, but she knows one thing with certainty—if you bite, then she will bite back.
Wade Wilson
- You barely have time to finish biting him before Wade gasps—loud, theatrical, utterly over-the-top. “OH. MY. GOD.” His hands fly to his chest, staggering back as if you have mortally wounded him. “DID YOU JUST—YOU DID. YOU ABSOLUTELY DID.” His voice is thick with emotion, somewhere between scandalized and delighted. “Babe. You bit me. Like a feral little love-goblin. That’s so hot.”
- And then? Then, all hell breaks loose. Within seconds, he is biting you back—but not just once, no, because Wade Wilson is incapable of moderation. He is nibbling at your cheek, at your shoulder, at your hand, peppering you with playful, exaggerated love-bites while making increasingly absurd noises. “CHOMP.” He sinks his teeth into the air dramatically, eyes wide with manic glee. “RAWR. Oh, sorry, that was my dinosaur impression. But honestly? If I were a dinosaur, I’d be a love-raptor. A snuggle-saurus. A Wade-a-don Rex, if you will.”
- The worst part? He does not stop talking. “You’re lucky I don’t have rabies,” he chatters, waggling his brows. “I mean, I might. I did lick a questionable taco truck the other day. But, y’know, if I do have rabies, then I guess that makes you my one and only transmission method—romantic, right?” He grins, then gasps again, as if struck by a sudden epiphany. “WAIT. Does this mean we’re in a vampire romance now? Am I your dark, brooding, undead lover? Babe, I gotta be honest, I am so ready to emotionally gaslight you across centuries of longing.”
- But then—just when you think he’s going to turn this into a full-fledged one-man show—he pauses. Just for a moment. The humor dims slightly, enough for something softer to slip through. And then, in a rare, fleeting act of sincerity, Wade leans in, pressing a kiss—not a bite, not a joke, but a kiss—to the very spot where your teeth had been. “…Seriously, though,” he murmurs, voice warm and uncharacteristically quiet, “that was, like, really cute. You’re really cute.” And then, just as quickly as it appeared, the moment is gone, swallowed up in another round of ridiculous, dramatic antics. But for that one, brief second? He meant it.
Victor Creed
- The instant your teeth graze his skin, Victor Creed laughs—a low, rumbling thing that vibrates in his chest, a sound that is both amused and hungry. He does not startle. He does not pause. No, Victor reacts the way a predator does when something small and delicate dares to bare its teeth—with interest.
- His fingers curl at your waist, grip firm, possessive, a wordless acknowledgment of what you have done. “Now that’s adorable,” he drawls, voice thick with amusement. “Little thing thinks she’s got fangs.” His golden eyes gleam as he studies you, head tilting slightly, as if debating whether to play along—or devour you whole.
- And then? He leans in. Closer, until his breath is warm against your ear, until you feel the sheer size of him, the sheer power in every inch of his body. “You wanna play rough, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice dropping into something darker, something edged with promise. “You sure you can handle that?” And then, without hesitation, he bites back. Not gentle. Not teasing. But slow, deliberate, lingering—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you exactly who you are dealing with.
- When he pulls away, his grin is wolfish, sharp and deadly. “That all you got?” he taunts, dragging a thumb over the mark he’s left behind. “C’mon, now. If you’re gonna bite, bite like you mean it.” And with that, he watches, waits, golden eyes glinting with something dangerous, something wild. Because Victor Creed is a man who thrives on blood and instinct, and if you wish to play this game, then you must be prepared to lose.
Julian Keller
- The moment your teeth graze his skin, Julian smirks. A slow, lazy curl of his lips, equal parts cocky and intrigued. He doesn’t jerk away, doesn’t react with surprise—no, Julian Keller is a man who thrives in the unexpected, who wears confidence like a second skin. “Well, well,” he drawls, amusement dripping from every syllable, “look at you. Feisty today, huh?” His voice is low, smooth, laced with the kind of arrogance that makes you want to bite him again—harder, just to wipe that smug expression off his face.
- But then, before you can so much as think about it, he moves. Swift, fluid, his telekinesis pressing against you, pinning you in place—not harsh, not cruel, but playful. A silent reminder of who he is, of what he can do. His grip at your waist tightens ever so slightly, his body angled close, so very close, and for a second, it feels less like a game and more like a challenge. “That supposed to be some kind of warning, babe?” he teases, his breath warm against your ear. “’Cause if you’re picking fights, you should know—I never back down.”
- He doesn’t retaliate immediately. No, Julian waits. He lets anticipation build, lets you think you’ve won—that you’ve caught him off guard, that he’ll let this slide. But then, just as you relax, he strikes. A sharp nip against your jaw, quick and precise, a mimicry of what you had done to him. But unlike you, he doesn’t stop there. No, Julian Keller is competitive, and if you’re playing this game, then he’s playing to win.
- “Gotta admit,” he murmurs against your skin, voice a quiet rasp, “you’ve got guts. I like that.” His grip loosens, but that smirk remains, his green eyes gleaming with challenge. “But next time? Maybe try a little harder.” And just like that, he pulls away, walking off as if nothing happened, as if he hasn’t just left you standing there, heart pounding, already plotting your revenge.
Kitty Pryde
- “Oh!” The moment your teeth press into her shoulder, Kitty lets out a startled squeak, her entire body jerking in surprise. She phases instinctively, and before you even register what’s happening, you’re biting nothing—your teeth sinking into empty air as she slips through you, her molecules scattering like mist. It’s not that she minds, not really. It’s just that she wasn’t expecting it. And Kitty Pryde does not like being caught off guard.
- “Did you just—?” Her voice is breathless, half-laughing, half-accusing, her wide eyes locking onto yours. There’s no anger there, no real irritation—just confusion and delight, an almost incredulous sort of amusement at the fact that you, of all people, had dared to bite her. “Okay, rude,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest in mock offense. “You can’t just do that without warning! What if I phased and got stuck inside the floor? You’d feel really bad, wouldn’t you?”
- But her protests are all for show, because the next second, she’s grinning, her playful side taking over. Kitty Pryde is mischief wrapped in kindness, and if you think for one second that she’s letting this go unanswered, you’re sorely mistaken. “Y’know,” she muses, tapping a finger to her chin, “if this is how we’re communicating now, I could phase my hand into your ribs and just… give your heart a little squeeze. Not lethal! Just, y’know… uncomfortable.”
- And yet, despite her teasing, despite her empty threats, there’s a warmth in her gaze, an unmistakable fondness in the way she leans in, brushing her lips—soft, fleeting—against the spot where your teeth had been. “But,” she murmurs, voice dipping into something gentler, something real, “I think I like this way better.” And then, with one final cheeky grin, she phases through you once more, vanishing just before you can grab her in retaliation.
Nathan Summers
- The moment you bite him, Cable pauses. No visible reaction. No sharp inhale, no startled flinch. He simply stills, his entire body locking into that unnerving, soldier-like stillness. His metal hand, which had been resting at your waist, remains unmoving, his entire frame rigid as if waiting, assessing. It’s instinct, honed over decades of battle, of survival. Because Nathan Summers is not a man accustomed to softness, and affection—even when playful—is something he has never learned to anticipate.
- And then, slowly, he exhales. His head tilts just slightly, his cybernetic eye dimming, the faintest flicker of something amused passing through his otherwise unreadable expression. “…Did you just bite me?” His voice is low, gravelly, tinged with something between disbelief and reluctant amusement. “Huh.” He says nothing else for a long moment, simply watching you, studying you as if trying to decipher what exactly prompted you to do such a thing.
- And then, finally, he shakes his head, a quiet huff escaping him—something that might, under very specific lighting conditions, be mistaken for a chuckle. “You’ve got guts,” he mutters, the corner of his lips twitching in something dangerously close to a smirk. “Reckless, but gutsy.” His organic hand brushes against the spot where your teeth had been, as if committing the sensation to memory.
- He doesn’t bite back. Doesn’t tease or taunt or retaliate. No, Cable is not a man who plays games. Instead, he opts for something simpler, something quieter—his hand cupping the back of your head, his lips pressing against your forehead in a rare display of open tenderness. A silent acknowledgment. A wordless acceptance. Because Nathan Summers may not understand softness, but for you, he is willing to learn.
Warren Worthington III
- The moment your teeth sink into his skin, Warren lets out a sharp gasp—a mix of surprise and something dangerously close to pleasure. His wings flare instinctively, feathers rustling with a sudden, unconscious movement, his entire body reacting before his mind can catch up. Because Warren Worthington III is a man of control, of composure—and yet, with you, it seems to shatter so easily.
- “Did you—” His voice is breathless, his pupils blown wide, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You just—” He swallows, as if struggling to find the right words, as if the simple act of you biting him has completely short-circuited his mind. He is an angel carved from marble, all sharp lines and celestial grace, and yet here he stands, utterly undone by something so small, so mortal.
- And then, something shifts. A slow, wicked smile tugs at his lips, the sharp edge of his Archangel persona slipping into his gaze. “You really shouldn’t do that,” he murmurs, voice a velvet purr. “Not unless you’re prepared for the consequences.” His wings snap forward in an instant, encircling you in a cocoon of soft, gilded feathers, trapping you against his chest. His fingers ghost over your jaw, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.
- “Because now?” His lips brush against the very spot you had marked, his voice dropping into something dangerous, something electric. “Now it’s my turn.” And then, before you can even think to protest, Warren Worthington III—heir, angel, warrior—bites back.
Kevin Sydney
- The moment your teeth sink into his skin, Kevin’s entire form shifts in surprise. One second, he’s his usual self—sharp jaw, bright eyes, that ever-present smirk—and the next, he’s you, your own expression of mischief mirrored back at you. His voice, now an exact replica of yours, lilts with exaggerated amusement: “Wow, is this what I look like when I do something reckless? No wonder you love me.”
- He lets the illusion linger just long enough to make you blink in disbelief before shifting back, his laughter spilling out in warm, unrestrained waves. There’s no irritation, no reprimand—just the unshakable joy of a man who thrives on unpredictability, who relishes in the absurd. “Biting, huh? I like this new development,” he teases, rubbing the spot where your teeth had been with faux contemplation. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting that, but hey, I do have a thing for surprises.”
- He retaliates in the most Morph-like way possible—by suddenly growing a pair of exaggerated fangs and snapping playfully at you, his grin widening as if daring you to test your luck again. “C’mon, babe, if we’re making this a thing, let’s make it fun,” he quips, waggling his eyebrows in an over-the-top display of challenge. “What’s next? Claw marks? A dramatic villain monologue? Give me something to work with!”
- And yet, despite all the jokes, despite the effortless laughter, there’s something softer underneath. Because Kevin Sydney is a man who hides behind humor, who masks emotion with theatrics—but the way he touches you now, fingers brushing idly along your wrist, is genuine. “Seriously, though,” he murmurs, his usual grin dimming into something real, “I like when you do things that catch me off guard. It reminds me that life’s worth sticking around for.”
Raven Darkhölme
- The moment your teeth press into her skin, Mystique doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t jerk away. Instead, she merely stares, her yellow eyes sharp, assessing, calculating. It’s impossible to tell what she’s thinking—whether she’s amused, annoyed, or considering shifting into someone entirely different just to make you regret it. “Interesting,” she murmurs at last, her voice low, velvet-smooth, carrying an edge of intrigue that makes your heart stutter.
- Then, before you can so much as blink, she moves. A blur of shifting colors, of muscle and bone rearranging in an instant—and suddenly, she’s behind you, her lips a ghost of a presence against your ear. “You really think you can surprise me?” she purrs, her breath cool against your skin. “I’ve spent lifetimes being a step ahead. If you wanted to catch me off guard, you’d have to try harder than that.”
- But despite her words, despite her unshakable composure, there’s an undeniable interest in her tone. Because Raven Darkhölme is a woman who’s spent decades in control, who rarely allows herself to be touched without permission—and yet, you’ve just walked right through every layer of her defenses without fear. And that? That fascinates her more than she’d care to admit.
- “Brave,” she muses at last, her fingers tracing the very spot you had bitten, her expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, she adds, “But reckless.” And just like that, she shifts—her form melting into someone else, someone entirely unfamiliar—before disappearing into the shadows, leaving only her voice lingering behind: “I will be returning the favor.”
Illyana Rasputina
- The moment your teeth sink into her skin, Illyana freezes. Not in shock, not in discomfort, but in something else—something unreadable, something ancient and dangerous. Because Illyana Rasputina is not a woman accustomed to softness, and affection—even playful—has always been laced with sharp edges in her world. Her grip on her Soulsword tightens, and for a fraction of a second, her eyes flicker with golden fire, as if Hell itself has stirred in response.
- And then, she turns to you—slowly, deliberately, her expression eerily calm. “Did you just bite me?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s something lethal beneath it, something that makes even the air around her still. She doesn’t sound angry. If anything, she sounds… curious. As if she’s trying to decide whether this is something to be annoyed by—or something to encourage.
- And then, after what feels like an eternity, she laughs. It’s low, dark, a sound that carries the weight of fire and steel, of war and something far older than you could ever comprehend. “Hah. You’re bold,” she muses, tilting her head, considering you with something between amusement and fondness. “I like it.” Then, with a flick of her wrist, her Soulsword vanishes, and she leans in—so very close, her breath warm against your throat.
- “But you do realize,” she murmurs, her voice a whisper of shadows, “that I always bite back.” And before you can so much as react, she’s gone—vanished in a flash of eldritch fire, leaving nothing behind but the lingering heat of her presence and the unshakable knowledge that this game has only just begun.
Alex Summers
- The second your teeth graze his skin, Alex jumps—a sharp, involuntary reaction, his entire body tensing as if you’ve just electrocuted him. “What the hell?!” he blurts out, twisting to look at you with wide, startled eyes. There’s no immediate anger, no irritation—just sheer, genuine confusion, as if he cannot comprehend why you would do something so reckless.
- And then, as realization dawns, his expression changes. His brows furrow, his lips twitch, and before you can so much as breathe, he lets out a laugh—not the kind you were expecting, not cocky or smug, but genuine. It’s warm, boyish, disbelieving, the kind of laugh that makes the edges of his eyes crinkle. “You bit me,” he says again, shaking his head like he still can’t quite wrap his mind around it. “Are you—are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
- And yet, despite his reaction, despite his initial shock, there’s something undeniably fond in the way he looks at you now. Because Alex Summers is a man who has spent his life in the shadow of expectation, of responsibility, of chaos—and here you are, bringing something light into his world, something unexpected, something good. And maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind that as much as he pretends to.
- “Alright, fine,” he relents at last, rubbing his neck where your teeth had been, his grin turning almost challenging. “But just so you know? I’m keeping score.” And with that, he leans in—his lips brushing against your jaw, a teasing warning before he suddenly nips at your skin in retaliation, pulling back with a satisfied smirk. “Your move.”
Content Warnings: Suggestive content, implied AFAB!reader (from the "get wet")
A/N: I'll do a part two after I finish the Jean Grey ask I got! thinking Deadpool and Human Torch for that one... hmm
Baby, just do the dishes, I'll give you what you, what you want/Considering I have feelings, I'm like, "Why are my clothes still on?":
Scott may have been a busy man but he wasnt under any sort of impression that you'd "pick up" all the housework when the two of you moved in together. As your arms wrapped around his waist he moved to put one hand over yours before remembering he was elbow-deep in suds. Looking over his shoulder to see a love-drunk expression on your face and glazed over eyes. A little insulted that you thought he was that backwards in his thinking and... you were still dating him. He needs to have some sort of conversation about this
Jean loved having with her while doing chores, the domesticity of it warm in her chest, but as you tucked yourself into her side, muttering something about "taking such good care of me". She absolutely doesnt object as you start pressing your face into her neck but she is a bit worried she might've been distant the last few weeks, laying her head on you as she finishes up before
Ororo was fine with doing her part around the household, but she did have a specific distaste for dishes. But with the dishwasher broken and you busy at work, she had started on the dishes from last nights dinner and today's breakfast. She'd gotten into a groove when you got home and saw her doing the thing she dislikes just because you were busy and it had to be done. Ororo prides a bit as you press against her back pressing kisses in thanks. She could get used to this... lets hope maintenence was here tomorrow though.
Anna-Marie huffed and puffed about getting it done but when she finally sauntered over to the sink and started working the look of pure unfiltered attraction from you as you finished cleaning the bookcase was all worth it. She'll make a show out of it too, lifting the plate up slightly so that droplets of water run up her arm as your eyes followed the wet trail. Might try to bargain for a reward (kiss) when she's done.
Remy doesnt shy away from doin what his partner wants, he lives to serve. And if the fastest way to get your hands crawling across his skin is to play house-husband then he is more than willing to comply, he doesnt exactly get how you get hot and bothered from doing the bare minimum but Remy would never turn down an oppurtunity to lavish you in attention (and get some in return)
Assemble a chair from IKEA, I'm like, "AhAhAh"/Offering to do anything, I'm like, "Oh, my god":
Kurt has gotten more handy over the years, keeping his small church in order was a lot of work and outsourcing all the labor just wasnt possible- plus watching your eyes trail over his back and arms while he lifted your new bedframe up the stairs was a pleasure like no other. Shocked that he did it by himself, as he assured you it was his duty as your partner, he doesnt want to ruin the moment though so dont be surprised when he bamfs across the room to receive his payment
Kitty and her endless ability to understand complex (and ridiculous!) instructions was one of the most attractive things about her. Oh her brain was so amazing, it's not your fault her face was in front of it! Which is part of the reason she seems so surprised when she looks up, halfway done fixing your phone to see your eyes glossy and unfocused, flitting across her face and hands. She'll fan her face and tie up her hair for you to have a better view, giggling as you come back to and start praising her.
Logan was buff. He was so, so buff. He knew it, you knew it, and he knew you loved when he showed off- moving your new couch to the other side of the room for the nth time as you keep getting distracted. Muttering out another "no not right" as he laughs and rolls his shoulder, hauling it to another area as you trailed behind, staring at his muscles. At some point he'll forego any sense of 'modesty' and take off his ratty white tank alltogether, enjoying hearing your breath catch in your throat
Warren didn't particularly like this process. He had put something on backwards a bazillion steps ago and was groaning in frustration as he had to redo all his hard work, but oh you loved this process. Watching his face flush in frustration and seeing how he kept doing this one little task for you over and over (accidentally making it harder for himself), he was about to call it quits when he saw your half-lidded eyes and knew there was a very nice end in sight.
Illyana was currently assembling your new dresser drawers, using her body weight to push down on the difficult wood as she secured the screws, as she sat back proudly and turned to you, she was caught off guard when you grabbed her hand and jumped onto the bed.
"that was hot we should make out"
Illyana was not an idiot and she would absolutely be taking you up on that, shoving aside the dresser in her final flaunt of strength before joining you.
Tags/Content Warnings: explicit smut, g!p reader, oral sex, blowjob (reader receiving), brief handjob (reader receiving), riding, implied size difference(?), choking, semi-public sex, creampie, breeding kink, light angst, bottom!Illyana, Illyana scratches like a motherfuckerrr, tank gf x dps gf, reader lowk being bigger than Yana is sexy.. (I’m a whore for wlw size difference)
Summary: Illyana takes a ride on your disco stick while in her disco attire
Word count: 4.7k
Author’s note: I locked in so hard for this fic, I was tasting the end of the finish line. Also, this was suppose to be a short 2k story of pure smut but I put Illyana in her feels, so now it spiraled into a 4k smut story.. oops.. I need to stop writing reader and Magik doomed..
———
This whole time entanglement chaos gets to a point, right? I mean, one second you’re in the Museum of the Collector, pushing a bus that belongs to Doctor Strange and winning, then you get pulled into another fight and now you’re in space with Intergalactic Wakanda.
You still being mentally sane during this whole situation is a bigger question that needs to be answered.
And not having a severe concussion from all the times your head has been smashed into walls and buildings is the biggest question from across all universes.
Your other teammates spawn in, but you don’t take the effort to turn around and see, still recovering from your last match.
Until, a small, grumpy and roughed-up Canadian comes up and greets you.
“Knew it was you, bub. The smell of bonfire and burnt candle wicks follow you everywhere.” Wolverine waltz into your view.
You smile softly at your old mentor, “Hey, Logan. Nice to see we’re on the same side this time.”
He laughs low, before giving you a “light” nudge to your guts. “Damn, kid. You’ve become an absolute unit since the last time I saw you.”
You grunt lightly, your hand brushing over where he hit you. “Yeah it’s called being a Vanguard, you should try it out some time.”
He chuckles, with Galacta counting down in the background.
“By the way,” Logan whispers and you lean a little over to hear him better. “She’s here if you two wanna stop playing cat and mouse and talk.”
On cue, you look over and lord behold, you swear your eyes pop out of your skull.
Magik stands there, rolling her eyes at something Deadpool says, with Gambit instigating the entire conversation.
A full mutant team (minus Deadpool), with you, Jean, and Illyana being the only women, that’s great.
But the Russian is dressed up in Disco attire, shiny and bright, skin showing and she actually looks happy.
Strange, but her smile is the most beautiful thing on this earth.
And fucking hell she looks yummy.
“Don’t waste time, child.” Magneto speaks to you but it goes in one ear and comes out the other.
“Securing mutantkind’s victory is important.” He keeps going.
“Oh, no worries, old Professor.” Your eyes haven’t left Illyana’s body and when she turns around to say something to Jean, oh lord… please give you the strength to focus.
“I’ll secure our victory with no problems.” You reply sternly to Magento.
He smiles quietly at you calling him Professor, remembering the old days of when you were his student, and levitating out as soon as the spawn doors open up.
And everyone else follows after, but you don’t budge, watching the X-Men (minus Deadpool) pass by.
“We have a whack-job as our strategist? Great, we might lose this battle.” You grumble to yourself.
“You think so? Wade says he never misses.” Illyana says, right by your side so suddenly.
You laugh, “Please, you really believe that? Wade always misses his shots. Let’s hope Remy picks up the pieces he drops…hopefully.”
Now that Illyana is closer, you have a better look at her outfit and lord have mercy, you really need a bucket of freezing cold water after this.
“What’s up with the Disco look?” You tilt your head to the side, soaking Magik all in. “You just came back from a Dazzler concert?”
Illyana chuckles, actually cracking a smile and you want to see her smile everyday and every hour.
“No, I didn’t go to a Dazzler concert.” Illyana inches closer, you choose to ignore it. “I came back from fighting Shield agents in New York. Apparently, Kingpin is the new mayor and he has the whole city on lockdown, arresting any superheroes he spots.”
“Mhmm,” You hum, acting like you’re listening, which you are. “So where does the Disco vibe come in? Saves the day?”
‘Yana laughs again, and you feel your face blush and heart palpate like a giddy idiot. “I guess? I killed Shield agents on the dance floor.”
“Of course you did.” Your eyes drift to the open spawn doors then back to the Russian. “You’re Magik, no one walks out unharmed.” Illyana seems pleased with your statement.
“It isn’t too flashy.. da?” Illyana asks, and you want to shake your head “no” so quickly, but you pace yourself.
“No, I think it’s the right amount of flashiness.” Your eyes are slow when you check her out, and Illyana smirks internally when your gaze lingers on her exposed stomach.
“Plus, it looks good on you…” You trail off, mind blanking.
Magik hums, placing a hand to your chest, where she feels your heart racing so fast.
“You know what else looks good on me?” She looks up behind her lashes and you think you could combust any moment now.
You gulp, mouth dry and words dying in your throat. Your fingers twitch at your sides, itching to get your dirty paws on her hips, craving the feeling of her skin beneath your fingertips.
“Uh—“ You consciously tell yourself not to stutter.
God, Illyana makes you feel like a fool, she gets you so nervous she has you talking a hundred miles an hour.
The Russian laughs again, biting her bottom lip and her eyes have become a darker shade of blue from lust. The hand on your chest travels up and wraps around the back of your neck, black nails dig lightly into your skin.
Oh my god, you’re hard, and it’s not even a joke.
“You.” She whispers against your lips, flushing her chest to yours. “Your lips look really good on me.”
Oh lord.. forgive you.. you’re about sin.
You’ve never yanked someone so aggressively fast in your life, okay you lied. You did snatch up an enemy Spidey a couple matches ago to stop him from harassing your Strategist.
Magik laughs at your eager hands, finding your strength to be a very attractive characteristic you possess, but the sound gets swiftly muffled by your lips on hers.
The blonde is chest to chest with you, your tongue parts her lips and you fight for dominance. Your hands drop from her full hips down to her ass, grabbing a handful of Russian cake and cheering to yourself when Illyana moans into your mouth.
The nails in your neck dig deeper, while Magik’s free hand rests on your abdomen and pushes you back, still keeping your tongue intertwined with hers.
You follow, letting her blindlessly guide you until the back of your knees hits something hard, like a bed frame. She pulls back, a thin string of saliva breaks when she gets far enough and shoves you back onto the bed.
Your backside makes contact with clean sheets and a soft mattress. You are vividly aware that this bed has to belong to Black Panther or his sister, but those thoughts hastily vanish when you watch Illyana bend over.
She connects with your lips again, biting your bottom lip and sucking on your tongue as she drags a hand down from your chest to your groin. She gropes the prominent bulge between your thighs and you groan out loud, your head rolling back at the sensation.
Illyana’s smirk deepens, nibbling and licking at your throat as she massages your swelling length.
“Someone seems excited to see me.” Magik’s accent is thick in lust.
Her teeth bite into the collar of your costume and she pulls, letting the material slap back against your skin. Then, she impatiently lifts the top-half of your costume up and over your chest, licking her lips at the gorgeously sculpted abs that grace her vision.
Her nails drag down, leaving red marks into the skin, actually wanting to groan out in filthy lust when it goes back to its normal shade.
“Fuck.. Logan wasn’t lying.” Illyana whispers low. Those same fingertips find the buckle to your belt, and unlocks it.
She drops between your spread legs, leaning over to leave black stained kiss marks around your v-line. She brushes against a small happy trail, and grins, lapping up any sweat that’s starting to develop on your skin.
“You are an absolute unit.” She bites at your hip, fingers playing with the waistband of your boxers.
Illyana marks every untouched part of your skin with her black lipstick, teeth and nails. She makes a show while licking up your abdomen, her tongue in every sharp line and toned muscle.
You can’t breathe, it’s getting hard too. Your shaft throbs uncomfortably in your boxers, twitching and leaking pre-cum from the tip.
“Oh shit..” You drag a hand down your face, the other one fists the white bedding tightly.
You stare down at the mess Illyana has made around your abdomen and navel area, shiny in her spit and stained black from her lips.
And this is only the beginning.
The blonde tugs your pants low enough to where it shouldn’t get in the way, mouth watering at the way your boxers hug your hips and thighs deliciously, emphasizing how big your junk is.
She can’t help the smug smile that graces her lips, her thumb tracing over the band to your undies.
“Pink? I didn’t know you own pink underwear?” Illyana flashes you her canines.
“It’s just the waistband.” You argue back, the hand buried in the sheets lets go to grab at Illyana.
You clasp the back of her neck, directing her face closer. She obliges, nuzzling her cheek against your rod, even going as far as to suck and lick at it through the fabric.
Holy shit, you’re about to bust pre-maturely.
You can’t speak or think, all you can do is groan and watch as Illyana finally yanks your underwear down, eyes dark with lust and thighs squeezing tight.
Your dick springs up from its confined prison, the cold breeze slightly cooling you down from overheating like a fool. Illyana chews on her bottom lip, perfectly manicured nails wrapping around your throbbing length.
You moan at the first touch, the hand on Magik’s neck moves to rest on top of her hair, not to control but to guide.
“Such a big girl.” She presses her lips to your base, and your cock twitches, more pre leaking from the tip and your stomach is twisting in pleasure.
“Did you miss me?” Illyana mumbles against your skin, “I missed you.”
The Russian looks up as she asks the question, blue eyes gazing into yours as she sucks and nips at the base. Her lips part open, black lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth and she drags her tongue up to the tip. The bitter and slightly sweet taste of your cum hits her tongue, causing Illyana to moan at the flavor.
Seems like your diet has been good and healthy.
You groan deep, fingers curling around the base of Magik’s ponytail. “Fuck..” You pant, stopping your eyes from rolling back as you watch the teleporter suck at your tip.
“Fuck me..” You gritted out, your grip is deathly on those poor sheets.
Illyana pulls away with a loud pop, she licks at her lips before pressing a chaste kiss to the tip, extra pre-cum spills from the action.
“That, I’m trying to do.” Illyana jokes, but you’re too caught up in pleasure to register her words.
The mutant starts at the base again, dragging her tongue up from the underside of your cock to the tip and widens her mouth a little more to try and take all of you at once.
‘Yana succeeds, mostly. She makes it half way before her gag reflexes kick in, but she’s aiming for all of you down her throat.
“Fuck!” You shoot up from being propped up on your elbows, the hand buried in the sheets, burns through the fabric.
“Illyana.. oh god..” You sigh, the hand on her ponytail feels useless.
She keeps direct eye contact as she takes more of you. Her nails scratch intensely at your thighs, the rough material from your pants keeps her grounded.
She gags slightly and you’re quick to soothe her, thumb stroking her cheek as she pauses to breathe out through her nose.
“Easy..” You whisper, your hips twitching to shove the last two inches of yourself into Illyana’s mouth. “Don’t.. ugh.. hurt yourself..”
Magik takes that as a challenge and shoves the last two inches of your shaft down her throat. Her nose is buried in your coarse hair at the base, and your cock rests heavy on her tongue.
Your eyes roll back and the groan you let out is low, all this pleasure hitting you like a truck. Illyana swallows, her throat working magically around your tip and you almost black-out and shoot your cum into her warm mouth.
You roughly tug her off your cock, the pop she makes is loud and she’s breathing heavy, face flushed from deepthroating you.
You switch hands, one holding Magik by her hair while the other squeezes at your base, preventing you from exploding everywhere. You can’t stop the small spurt of cum that dribbles out, landing on Illyana’s lips.
The Russian licks it up, moaning at the texture and taste. Her hand overlaps yours, guiding you to slap your tip against her wet tongue, where more semen shoots out.
“Illyana..” You desperately plead. “I’m going to fucking cum if you keep doing that.” You squeeze harder at your base and frantically think of things to halt your orgasm.
Logan? Magento? God, fucking Deadpool. A dead puppy? Maybe Sunspot’s annoying and unhelpful advice on women and relationships? Maybe Scott being a pain up your ass? Or how You’re going to die if you don’t stop these two Dooms from clashing? Can anything stop you from cumming at this point?!
Your teammate takes pity on you and for the last time, pulls back and stays off, your shaft and Illyana’s lips are sheer and covered in her saliva.
You both take a moment to inhale oxygen, hearts pounding and racing and the air in the spawn room has become dense with sex and heat.
Illyana’s slick drenches the inside of her thighs, her clit throbs against the fabric of her leotard, painfully aroused and needing you in her now.
She casually starts stroking your cock, to keep you up and ready, but it seems like staying hard isn’t a problem for you. Your hand reaches down to rub at her cheek again, and if the Russian hadn’t caught herself, she would’ve purred at the feeling.
However, she does lean towards your warmth, taking your thumb into her mouth and biting on it. Her strokes get faster and her cunt gets wetter, then she removes her hand and your thumb and abruptly stands up.
“I’m going to ride you.” Illyana growls, straddling your lap and measuring your cock up against her stomach. “I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard, you’ll want me and only me.” She wraps her hand around your thick neck and squeezes.
Your gaze narrows, your strong hands grab at Magik’s hips and grind the blonde onto your dick, making sure your tip bumps against her sensitive clit.
Illyana moans, the hand enclosed around your throat tightens, but it doesn’t cut off circulation. Her hips feverishly follow the pace you’ve set, yanking you forward to bury your face in her breasts while she reaches behind her to tug her leotard to the side.
You bite and kiss and suck at her bosom, licking her nipple over the material of her top and wanting to rip everything off. One hand leaves ‘Yana’s hip to palm at her asscheek, opening her up and angling your cock better to slide between her soaked folds.
Illyana’s body lurches forward, she’s biting into her bottom lip to keep her noises down and her nails further pierce the nape of your neck.
“Snowflake…” You mumble against her jugular, licking up the side of her neck. “Let me in, please.”
Illyana hates when you use that nickname, because she hates how it makes her feel. How it makes her feel all soft and vulnerable, how butterflies form in the pit of her stomach, and how you look at her like she’s needed, wanted, worthy of the type of love you hold for her.
And you, all needy and thrusting hopelessly beneath her, your tip nudging against her entrance but you don’t display your strength and take her.
“Let me in.” Your words echo deafeningly in the blonde’s mind. She wants to, she wants to so fucking bad, it hurts. You don’t understand how much she wants to, how much she craves to, but she can’t. Because if she does, she’ll lose you too.
So, in Magik fashion, she chooses to ignore your words and the double meaning behind it and reaches between you both to guide your hard cock to where she needs you the most.
You both watch as Illyana’s pretty fingers wrap around your shaft once again and directs the head to her entrance, where she starts to push you in.
You both moan at the same time, Illyana’s forehead falls to rest on yours and your gaze shifts to watch her expressions. Her eyes are shut, a deep crease forms between her brows and she quietly pants against your lips.
The tip breaches Illyana’s opening and this time she moans unbashfully, white hot pleasure surges through her body and it’s getting overwhelming.
Now that you’re in, the Russian removes her hand from the middle of her thighs and wraps it around your throat, ensuring her grasp is strong before shoving you back on the mattress again.
Despite having both of Magik’s hands encased on your neck, she doesn’t squeeze hard enough to cut off circulation. They dig in your skin as she sinks further and further down on your shaft, her beautiful eyes are still closed and she bites her bottom lip.
“You look so pretty like this.” You murmur out, Illyana’s petite waist fits perfectly in the palm of your hand.
She ignores your words, thumbs pressing into your throat and you cough a little from the uncomfortable sensation.
Illyana hates you. Hates how you make her feel, hates how you put all these butterflies in her stomach and you make her feel like a giddy child. Hates how she feels like she has to prove her worth to the world to have you, hates how you break her walls down so easily and it makes her soul yearn. Hates how you two argued and before she could clear the air, you got up and left.
You left her, you left Illyana behind. You left her right when the two Dooms decided to play God with every universe, stranded and alone, just like how six-year old ‘Yana felt in Limbo.
You abandoned her, and she fucking hates you for it.
But, my god, she hates herself even more for still loving you after everything.
No matter what version of you she crosses paths with.
And when did you get so big?
Your thick girth splits her walls open inch by inch, her slick soaks your length as she tries to accommodate for your size.
“I hate you..” Illyana exhales, “I hate you so fucking much..” Her fingers squeeze and your coughing becomes more prominent.
“Why did you leave me?” Another inch slides in and she whimpers, tears prickling the corner of her eyes. “You promised me, you promised you wouldn’t leave me.”
You stretch her wider and Illyana can’t help but gasp, one hand loosens its grip to drop down to your chest and she claws at it.
With the reminding two inches left of your cock, the Russian slams her hips down, ultimately taking in all of you and generating a loud slap from the skin on skin contact.
You’re heavy and thick and hot and you fill her up nicely, your tip kisses her cervix and Illyana swears she can feel you in her stomach. Magik’s eyes shoot open when you grind upwards a little, before gripping the back of her thigh and lifting her up as you pull out. You keep going until the tip is the only part left and slam Illyana back down.
Her breath gets caught in her throat, and wow, it really does feel like you’re in her guts when you do that. Illyana’s other hand occupies the one on your chest, and now both are clawing at the flesh there.
You set a pace, rolling your hips up and mentally reminding yourself not to bust each time her walls clench tighter and her cunt gushes around your shaft.
‘Yana follows the rhythm, meeting you in the middle when you thrust up and she slams down. The clapping of skin against each other is blaring in the spawn room, and the air is clouded with sex.
“I’m sorry.” You groan, propping yourself up on your elbows and concentrating on your next words. “I’m sorry she did that to you, that I did that to you. You know I would never hurt you unintentionally, right?”
You sweep Magik’s bangs away from her sweaty forehead and her blue eyes roll back when her throbbing clit brushes your skin and you find the spot that gets the Russian’s thighs shaking and toes curling.
“Shut.. ugh.. up..” Illyana pants, clawing desperately at your chest, her nails breaking skin and leaving behind red, irritated lines. “боже мой (oh my god)… fuck.. oh fuck.. harder.. d-deeper.. fuck you’re so deep, baby.”
She whines, aggressively riding you now and practically using you to fuck herself on. The head of your cock keeps kissing her cervix and she can’t take it anymore.
“Y/n..” ‘Yana whimpers your name and she sounds almost like she’s pleading for comfort. “Please.. I’m gonna cum.. f-fuck.. I-I’m going to cum all over your cock..”
You smash your lips against hers, ignoring the clashing of teeth and swallowing all of her moans and groans. Your hips and hers don’t falter in pace or power, the wet smacking sounds louder and your thighs are starting to burn from all this action.
You break the kiss, sinking your teeth into her neck as you drop your hand down between your moving bodies and press your fingers to her aching clit, doing circular motions.
“It’s okay.” You mumble against Magik’s cheek. “I’m here now, you can let go, I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
Illyana sobs, she slams herself down one last time and creams all over your cock. Her walls clench and squeeze and gush around you tightly, like she’s trying to milk every single drop out of you, while her nails claw harder at your chest and you haven’t even cummed yet.
But, you’re not too far behind.
“God..” You sigh, still thrusting to reach your peak. “You look so beautiful when you cum, Illyana. So pretty, my pretty girl. Fuck, let me put a baby in you, snowflake. Let me make it up to you and make love to you all night.”
You babble, drunk off of your love for Illyana and how good her pussy tightens each time you thrust in and out. You grab her by her neck this time, licking at her tongue as the Russian creates more of a mess on your thighs at your display of strength.
“I’ll fuck you so good all night long— you’ll wake up in the morning with my cum stuffing you full and pregnant with my babies.” You growl against ‘Yana’s lips and she cries out.
Your confession triggers a second orgasm for Illyana, which triggers your climax. You groan roughly, your cock’s pulsing and twitching as you dump load after load of cum in Illyana, painting her walls white with your substance.
You both collapse, bodies suddenly drained and sore from this nasty, messy exercise. Illyana lays on top of you, her head rests against your chest where she can hear your pounding heartbeat. Her face is flushed to the max, she’s sweaty everywhere, her makeup is ruined, her thighs are sticky and her hair isn’t as neat and put together like before.
You’re equally a fucked-out mess as well, your skin is also overheating to the max and it feels like you’re burning from the inside out. You try to steady your breathing and your racing heart, choosing to not think about the fact that you’re still buried in Illyana’s sweet goodness.
You caress a hand down Illyana’s back, drawing soothing shapes to ease and distract her. You stare up at the ceiling of the spawn room, your chest is heaving up and down, then post-nut clarity hits you and now you’re slapping your hands on your face and groaning loudly into your palms.
What the fuck did you just do?
Illyana takes that as her cue to get off of you. She sits up, leans back and you peek through the cracks of your fingers as you watch the Blonde ascend herself off your spent cock, a ring of cream stains your base and shit that’s hot.
It comes out with a wet pop, prompting Magik to whimper slightly at the empty feeling. She places herself on your thighs, both of you watching as a thick glop of white spills from her puffy entrance.
She takes your semi-hard cock and uses the tip to push your seed back in her, you bury your face deeper into your palms and your noises get muffled.
Once satisfied, she fixes her disco leotard and unstraddles your lap. She settles on her knees, by your side and gazes as you make no attempt to collect yourself.
Her pupils follow the way your chest rises up and down, your skin stained black from her lipstick and red from her nails. You make no effort to heal them, and Illyana feels guilty about how deep she really scratched you.
Thankfully, she left no hand marks on your neck and if she did, they were already gone. Your thighs and groin area was soaked in you and Illyana’s mixed juices, also stained from her lipstick and shiny from your sweat.
Unexpectedly, ‘Yana helps tidy you up. Her touch is gentle and almost hesitant as she softly tucks you back into your boxers, zips and buttons your combat pants up and buckles your belt.
She relaxes a hand against your chest, brows frowning at the blooded and irritated flesh.
“Heal.” She simply says. “Please heal these.. I didn’t mean to cut that deep..”
Your arm is thrown over your eyes but you nod, confirming that you will.
Without looking, you reach your free hand out to rest on Illyana’s cheek, thumb stroking the teleporter’s face to reassure her.
She melts into your warming touch, wanting to stitch and drill this moment into her soul. But, all good things come to an end and you both still have a battle to finish.
Begrudgingly, Illyana lets go, bending over to press a sweet kiss to your abdomen one last time before pulling your top down and getting off the bed.
She summons her Soulsword, glances at you from behind her shoulder then teleports into the ongoing fight.
It takes about five minutes for you to actually recollect yourself, you paw at the leftover lipstick smudges, and when they don’t come off, you give up and leave them.
As soon as you step foot outside of spawn, Wolverine comes back from the dead, grumpy and pissed as he usually is.
He stomps his way over to you, suspicious as you stretch your limps and tweaked muscles.
“Where the hell have you been?” He gruffs, nose twitching at a certain scent.
“Got stuck.” You quickly lie. “Lost track of the team and had zero clue where you guys went.”
Logan hums, clearly not falling for your lie and isn’t even impressed. “You smell like Illyana. I said talk, not fuck, sport.”
You rub at the back of your neck, not really sure on what to say or how to respond. “It’s her way of talking, Logan. One of the few moments where I can get a glimpse of what's running through that pretty little head of hers.”
Logan’s face contorts to worry, and his fatherly instincts kick in to comfort you. “Bub—“
“EW!” Deadpool’s voice rings through, echoing off the walls. “IT SMELLS LIKE SEX IN HERE! WHO WAS FUCKING AND WHY WAS I NOT INVITED?!”
Love how you write for Marvel Rivals! It's been one of my favorite games lately. If it's not too much to ask can you write Emma Frost, Natasha, Magik, Hela, Wanda and Storm using a strap-on on their girlfriend?
Hi, Anon! I'm glad you're enjoying the game and me writing my silly little fics. I'll write this one for you too!
Pairing: Emma Frost, Hela, Illyana Rasputin, Natasha Romanoff, Ororo Munroe, Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions
A/N: It's a really good time to love women! I love women so much!
Emma spends a ton of time teasing you with it before anything else. She has you tied to the bed, wrists bound and legs spread open, all dolled up in lingerie that is complementary to her own. Of course the strap on is shiny, glistening even more as she runs it through your slippery folds. She hears all your little whimpers and she doesn't need to use her mind reading powers to know how you want to be fucked. And then she does the opposite, her hips moving so slowly but even that feels like too much to your pussy, and yet not enough.
Hela will fuck you in every position possible but her favorite one is the when you're both on your knees and she's thrusting into you from behind. Her hands smooth up and down your thighs, brushing against your wet cunt. She's moving fast, but deep, grinning into the kiss you clumsily pull her into in a desperate attempt to silence your moans. All your effort to do so it futile, with every thrust you get louder. There's no need for you to keep quiet while she's fucking you, she wants to hear you clearly, her favorite woman in the whole world.
Illyana developed a breeding kink during the many times she's used her strap-on with you. She didn't mean to say she's gonna get you pregnant while almost breaking the bed, it just slipped out. From then on she only uses the strap-on with artificial cum in it and bends you in half while doing so. No matter the position she's always within kissing distance, she loves kissing you, her tongue demanding against yours. if she goes too hard on you she will kiss your pussy as an apology and she is being very sincere with her apology.
Natasha often wears her strap-on under her clothes and leaves it to you to get it wet and ready. You can suck it, you can use lube, you can ride it until you come all over it. But after that it's her turn to have some fun and for you to be a good girl and not a brat like she knows you can be. If you do behave like a brat she has no problem putting you in your place, which is under her, screaming her name, telling her how much you love her cock. She's also very forgiving towards you, if you ask her nicely she can go easy on you.
Ororo teases you a lot but ultimately gives you everything you want. She spoils you when she uses the strap-on, she encourages you as you ride it, massages your thighs, your ass and your hips and grins when you tell her you're close. When you feel tired but needy she is more than happy to stay still and cuddle, only moving back and forth occasionally, eliciting soft whimpers from you. Plants soft kisses across your neck while you ride her up and down, back and forth. One of her favorite things is to have you clean it afterwards.
Wanda uses a magical strap-on that makes it feel like the real thing, meaning she can feel your pussy gripping, tensing and relaxing around it. It drives her crazy when you're close to coming but she forbids you from doing so more than a few times. That when when you finally do come she knows you'll take her with you, right over that edge. Loves to watch the strap-on go in and out of you while her thumb massages your clit. The wet, silky pressure around her cock every time she touches your clit almost makes her magic go wild.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 SUMMARY: one very simple request to your X-MEN GIRLFRIEND [JEAN, ORORO, ROGUE, KITTY, EMMA, ILLYANA]… send biceps! and they accept!
ⓘ CONTENT WARNINGS: horny texts, flirting, multi-character! MINORS DNI! -> confident! fem! reader ノ mentions of masturbation ノ mentions of vaginal fingering ノ not really that dirty ノpetnames!
AUTHOR’S NOTE: god i love my girlsssss. if anyone’s wondering; the contact photos are just my personal fancasts, they are not a permanent like faceclaim so you can imagine these girls however you want— it’s just difficult for me to focus for some reason when the pfp is a comic panel but im using real life photos— it’s weird but still! I dont have a magik fancast yet so anya it is for right now! maybe male x-men characters next?
TRANSLATION OF ILLYANA'S TEXT: Ох, ты шлюха (russian) translates to oh you whore
masterlist is here! click here for more!
ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!
Before you read, please be warned that I'm writing based on my impressions of them not only in the game (though it's the biggest inspiration), but some of them with the movies/shows in mind too.
Summery: giving everyone on the Marvel Rivals roster a kiss (with plot!!)
Valentine's Masterlist
Underage characters and animal characters will be platonic (there will be a reminder for each one)
Characters included: Bruce/Hulk, Invisible Woman, Iron fist, Jeff the Shark, Loki, Luna Snow, Magik, Magneto, Mantis
“You are just the cutest thing ever” Bruce said, holding your head in his hands while sitting on the couch. He had you sitting in-between his legs, which were laying all across said couch, enjoying the warmth of your body laying on top of his.
Usually he wouldn't be so affectionate, worried about… other variables of his, but tonight was different. Tonight Bruce was tired, and all he wanted to do was be with you- even if it meant he'd probably fall asleep on the couch and get back pain in the morning.
“And you're so handsome” you said back, smiling up at him. Your arms were around his waist and you cuddled on top of him. “All of you” was added after.
Bruce let out an amused ‘hmf’ and you could see a soft blush on his cheeks if you squint hard enough. “All of me? Even the big green pea?” That got a laugh out of you.
“Yeah, even the hulk” you mutter out as a reply, laying your head on his chest and humming in content. His hands moved from your face to your back, drawing patterns, and probably equations too, on your back lightly.
Silence reigned over the living room, it would almost be deafening if it weren't for Bruce’s heart beating into your ear where it laid. “Love all of it” was let out in barely a whisper. His hands stopped tracing their patterns, instead grabbing onto your shirt in fistfulls, “can't say stuff like that” he murmured, laying his head back to barely touch the arm of the couch.
“But it's true.” Your elbows pushed you up to try and see his face, “I do love all of you, I don't care if it's you or Hulk.”
When his head came back up to a regular position, his entire face was flushed. “Don't just go saying things like that,” his eyes closed and his face looked so adorable when he was flustered like this “gonna get a heart attack.”
“You of all people know that's not how you get a heart attack.” You whispered while leaning up to meet his face.
He was surprised by the kiss, but not unwelcoming of it. His arms tightened their hold and his fists scrunched up your shirt, trying to pull you closer as he pushed against the kiss to deepen it.
The two of you laid in bed giggling together, it was still early morning but you bother were definitely supposed to be up and running for the day by now. Instead of being responsible adults the two of you stayed under the sheets and made jokes to each other, the early morning fog making everything a tad more funnier than it should be.
“You're ridiculous” Susan said, her head resting on your chest while holding in her laughter horribly. “I'm serious! He really did say that.” You replied, an arm waving in the air as the other one sat entangled with her hair.
After you said that she laughed some more, moving her head back to let it all out. God she was gorgeous like this, in the lighting that perfectly framed everything.
You laughed along too, but eventually it died down to deep breaths to catch both your breaths. Holding each other in a tender embrace, you let out a deep yawn. “Guess we should get up and be productive people, hm?” You said and pulled her closer.
“Yeah, maybe” she replied, pulling you just as close.
Neither of you had any intention of letting go to get up, but you both knew it had to happen eventually. Susan deeply sighed before pulling her arm out from under you and perching herself up. “There's only one way to start the day perfectly.” She said, smiling at you.
“And what's that, my love?” You asked, your hand in her hair moving to push it out of her face. “This” she said before lounging at you.
She practically tackled you with all her force, laying on top of you as she smothered your face in kisses. “Susan!” You said with a shout, laughing and grabbing onto her waist as she continued her attack. She pulled back and smirked, “what, can't handle it?” she said with a giggle. “Oh, I can handle it, can you?” You said before grabbing her face with both your hands and pulling her back in for a passionate kiss.
Lin was met with a bunch of flower in his face the moment he opened his bedroom door, eyes going from them to you multiple times as he processed what was happening.
You had a big smile on your face, holding up the single flower for him. After taking a moment, he smiled back and took the flower from your hand and examined it on his own. “What's this?” He asked, looking up at you with pure curiosity. “A flower” you replied with a proud tone.
“Well obviously, what's it for?” His tone was playful, not at all taken back by the dumb response you had given him. “For you!” Again you gave a vague reply.
He was used to your vague replies, and even found them funny, but his curiosity begged for a real answer- so he pressured more questions. “Where'd you get it?” “Nature” “did it cost anything?” “I paid with my love for you” “why today?” “Why not?” It went on and on, like a game of cat and mouse, except he had no way of winning this one.
There was only one thing to do, pull out the big guns.
“I'll give you a kiss if you actually tell me.” In an instant he saw your eyes light up, immediately making eye contact with him as you spoke.
“I found it in someone's front lawn on my way here, I thought it was cute and wanted you to have it.” Straight forward, “I believe you owe me a reward for being so honest.” and humble.
He laughed, looking back down at the flower, “I do, don't I?” Lin pulled you in by the waist and dipped his head down, capturing you in a soft kiss full of love- as they always were with him. When he pulled back he observed your star struck face with a smile. “Thank you for the flower, baby. But maybe don't go stealing from random neighborhoods next time.”
(Platonic)
The little shark had wanted to play outside, and as the self-designated caretaker of the little guy you were the one to take him outside. You sat on the porch stairs and watched as he ran around chasing everything- literally. His tail? Chased. That butterfly? Chased. The wind? Chased.
Jeff never ceased to amaze you on how much curiosity one creature could have- he was adorable.
You had spent maybe an hour outside by now, resting your head on your palm and watching Jeff explore a yard he's seen a million times before. By now you were getting hungry, and you sure Jeff was a little too, so you started thinking of lunch. Sandwiches sounded good, and they were simple to make, quick and easy so the little guy didn't have to wait.
Jeff easily noticed when you stood up, stopping his playtime and trotting over to you to see what was up. His face looked up at you with what you thought was a cute smile and big beady eyes. “Ah, Jeff you're so cute” you praised, crouching down to scratch the underside of his chin. He enjoyed this, letting out a cute noise and letting his tail wag. “How's about some lunch? You hungry?” The question easily peaked his interest, turning in circles to show it.
He easily followed you inside, even pushing the door closed after- something he had learned himself somehow, thank goodness he doesn't know how to open doors… right?
The kitchen was empty and made it easy for you to take your time and whatever you wanted from the fridge or cabinets. You settled on some sort of meat you found in the fridge (ham? Maybe turkey?) since it looked fine and passed your smell test- Jeff's too, but he ate anything so smell didn't really matter.
After making the sandwiches, five in total, you sat on the floor and pushed the plate with four of them towards Jeff, taking one for yourself to have. “Enjoy little buddy” you said as you watched the little shark absolutely devour them, taking the late with them. Glad you used a paper plate.
While you were eating yours Jeff came up and laid on your legs, pushing up against your hand that sat on your thigh. Deciding you could always make more, you tossed the rest of your sandwich- which was less than half- and watched as he scrambled to catch it. “You're adorable.” You muttered as he came back to you with a large smile that showed off all his teeth.
He let out the most adorable sound as he jumped onto your lap and licked your face, leaving an uncomfortable trail of shark saliva. “Thanks buddy” you said, using the bottom of your shirt to wipe off what you could.
Honestly it shouldn't be a surprise to you, coming home to find him bathing in rose petals and bubbles. He was a man who liked to be pampered, by others or herself didn't really matter.
“Be a dear and wash my hair for me, hm?” He slurred out, using a charming smile to coerce you into following his question- though he really didn't need to, you would've done it if he had ordered you too. Kneeling down you roll up your sleeves and grab the cup sitting on the edge.
Loki closed her eyes and sighed in bliss as the water washed over his head, relaxing into the water even more when your hands started to brush through his hair. “So good to me” he muttered.
“I try” you replied, rubbing the luxurious shampoo onto his scalp and down her long hair. Your fingers scratched at her scalp and that definitely got a satisfied reaction from her- seeing as he kept leaning his head into your hands, you happily obliged and applied more pressure onto her head. The deep exhale of his breath was a show of satisfaction.
It continued on like this, a cycle of singing his hair and applying hair products of all kinds- he insisted you used them all, to make sure her hair glowed. She still wanted to lay in the water, after you were done, so you started to stand up to give her space and alone time. Her hand rushed up and grabbed yours, water splashing out of the tub at how quick he was “stay,” her tone was demanding, but also quiet, “please.”
It was rare for him to ask such things of you, so you did. You took a towel and set it in the ground before sitting on it, your arm leaning on the tub. Quickly she took the opportunity to lay her head on your arm, a hand of his coming up to rest on your wrist- her pinky was outstretched to interlock with yours.
The both of you sat like that in silence for what could've been 5 minutes to an hour, it didn't seem like either of you cared which one it was.
His head would readjust sometimes, until eventually it was up on your shoulder and she had to hunch over to stay comfortable.
“The water is cold” the silence was broken by his comment. Unsure of what she wanted as a reply you went with the safest option, “want me to rerun the bath for you? Make it warm again, my love?” “No” his reply was quick, hand on your wrist tightening its grip. “Alright” was your reply, a quiet one as the silence set in once more.
You looked over to her, cheek resting on his wet hair with a smile. Your hand came up to rest on their head, thumb rubbing up against their cheek in comfort. It was all he needed to raise his head and look up at you- leaning into your palm.
It was too hard to resist, you couldn't help it when she looked at you with those eyes- vulnerability showed in them, something only you were allowed to see. So even so slightly you leaned in and pressed a kiss against Loki’s own lips; enjoying how soft they've always been compared to your most likely chapped ones.
It was late at night and you were in the dining room, sitting with two bowls in front of you- even though it was just you. This had been like the fifth time you'd checked the time, but you waited patiently, you knew she was a busy person.
The front door keypad sounded and went off after the correct code was put in before the door opened and closed soon after; which still didn't stop the cold breeze of outside meeting your face briefly. You could hear her, her shiver from the outside as she took her shoes off and put them in the shoe rack, replacing them with the bunny slippers you had gotten her ages ago.
“Oh,” she mutters, leaving the entry hallway to get a peek at you “I didn't realize you'd be awake still.” Seol looked guilty, reaching up to scratch at her hair nervously.
“Wanted to wait for you, should I not have?” You asked, turning in your chair to look directly at her. “No- No!” She shouted, “I mean- I don't mind it, you staying up for me.” her corrections on her reply were quick and worried.
She comes and pulls the chair next to you out, to sit in, and faces you like you do her; your legs interlock. “I'm sorry I'm always so late.” Her hand comes up to rest on your bicep, rubbing up and down in comfort. “It's alright, I know you're busy” you muttered in reply, taking her hand on you and holding it in yours. “You could make it up, though.” That caught her interest.
“Oh? How's that, my love?” Her face cracked a smile, if she knew you- which she did- she knew where this was going.
You didn't verbally reply, simply reaching up and pointing to your lips with a smile. Seol’s smile got brighter with your movement, raising her hands to cup your face. “I can't deny you.” She said before tugging you close and bumping faces with you with a laugh. Eventually her lips met yours and her laughs turned into little giggles instead; you even let out a few of your own.
The kiss was apologetic and sweet. She was busy a lot, you knew what you signed up for.
“Why do you care so much?” She sighed, laying her head on the foot of the bed as she laid on her stomach, “it's a shirt! Just pick one, baby, not that hard.”
Illyana wasn't one for fashion, despite looking good in everything, so when you propositioned her to pick your shirt because you couldn't decide she started complaining- nicely because it was you. “C'mon Illy- I can't decide!” You said back, holding up like three different shirts “That's why I'm asking you!”
This obviously wasn't going anywhere, as it always did when you asked her to help you with your wardrobe choices. “Why don't you wear that one shirt, the one I like?” She replied, rolling onto her back and turning her neck to glare at you from upside-down.
“It's dirty, I don't want to smell bad when I go out.” You said on the bed next to her and tossed the shirts onto her legs. “Hey!” She scoffed playfully, not actually bothered by it.
“Hey” you replied, leaving down to rest your hands on her stomach as she adjusted her head to look up at you. “Why don't you just stay inside today, then you don't have to pick out a shirt.” She suggested, raising her eyebrows in a silly manner while smirking at you.
“I'm not gonna walk around shirtless all day at home, you sucker.” You grabbed into her nose and shook her head playfully. Her hands raised to meet yours, tugging it off of her and smiling up at you. Her hands brought yours back down to rest on her stomach.
Quiet washed over the two of you, leaving both to just look at each other with smiles. “You could wear one of my shirts.” She offered, cutting through the silence. Pretending to think you looked up, “You do have some nice ones…”
“Alright, one of yours it is.” You pat her stomach and she laughs. “See? Not so hard after all,” Illyana reached up and grabbed your face. “I deserve a reward for being so helpful.”
With no complaints you listened to her suggestion, leaning down and giving her a sweet kiss. Her hands tangled with your hair and tugged slightly, always having to be in control in some way.
Somehow it was a quiet evening, for everyone. You sat on the couch with Erik, holding onto his arm and practicing melding into his side. “You're so warm” you told him earlier when he questioned it, but quickly left it alone with your answer being satisfactory.
He was reading a book, something random he found in the Baxter Buildings extensive library- it was probably something science related, maybe philosophical, but you didn't pay attention or care enough.
Your head rested on his muscular shoulder, not the most comfortable pillow but a favorite. He never showed it, but he loved when you cuddled up to him, you knew imso because he'd always make space for you to do so. Willingly he would move his arm to just the right position to where your arms could easily wrap around it so you could hold him. What a sweetheart.
Erik would let it occasional hums, something he unconsciously did when he was satisfied with his environment- when you were there.
“Please, my dear, stop staring at me.” He cut through the silence, but didn't look up from his book. “I don't know what you're talking about.” You said, feigning stupidity at him obviously catching you in the act of ogling over him. “You are right, I should not assume that you were staring at me when I can very obviously feel your eyes on me” Erik replied sarcastically, putting an ear on the page he was reading so he could close the book and put it aside- finally looking at you with a light smile.
“Exactly,” you agree, playing along “assuming things never work out well.” The both of you chuckle and smile at each other, leaning in more- if that was even possible.
“You are so right, my dear, as always.” his eyes were gentle, for a man that had gone through everything he has. “I always am,” you said back, thumbing at his shoulder gently.
His hand comes up to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb across it before running back and playing with the ends of your hair. His touch was so gentle, like you were the most precious thing in the world; because you were, to him you were.
Without another word needed between either of you, you moved to sit up more and leaned up to give him a kiss. He gladly returned it, using his hand in your hair to tug you closer, giving all of his love and attention to you.
“I can feel your love for me.” She said, thumbing at your hands that rested around her. You both laid in bed, her back to your chest as the moonlight passed through the curtains of your room. “Well I sure hope you can,” you replied, pushing her up against you more “make sure you get all of it.”
Mantis laughed at your comment, turning her head to see you and in turn show you her smile. “I certainly am.” She replied with a giggle.
You leaned your head down and nuzzled into her cheek, pushing yours against her like a cat. “Good, it's all meant just for you.” Her smile widened. Mantis pushed against the bed and turned around so she could wrap her arms around you like you were with her. The room became quiet again, besides your breathing, and you both just looked into the others eyes; full of love they were.
Leaning down you pressed a quick kiss against her nose, pulling back with a smile as blush dusted her cheeks a little. In turn she leaned up and pressed a kiss against your chin, and the game was on. The both of you took turns pressing kisses against the others face, it felt like enough time had passed to where every inch of both your faces was covered in kisses.
“I win.” You said, leaning down and capturing her lips before she could ask what you meant. She didn't complain, her hands raising to rest under your sleep shirt and pulling you closer.
When you pulled away it took a moment for the both of you to catch your breath, but she was quicker. “I didn't know this was a game, I think there needs to be a rematch.”
Headcanons for the X-Women's reaction to getting you pregnant (no pronouns for reader and implied GP!X-Women)
precursor: for all women, they're supporting whatever decision you make, but so I don't have to write the same sentence for every character, we're assuming you're deciding to have and keep the baby
characters included: Jean Grey, Emma Frost, Rogue, Ororo Munroe, Betsy Braddock, Kitty Pryde, Illyana Rasputin, and Laura Kinney
Jean Grey (Phoenix):
knows the second you take the test and is waiting very impatiently on the other side of the door while you take it
so happy when she reads the results from your mind, but still pretends like it's the first time she's hearing it when you tell her
understands if you want to still come on missions at first but is not happy to see you there and looms over you the entire time making sure you never come within 100 yards of any real danger
practically begs you to not come on mission after the first 2 months and it would turn to arguments if you still tried to go
does everything she can to make sure you have everything you need and jumps up every time you move to ask if she can get you something
gets very over affectionate throughout the pregnancy and always wants to be touching you in some way
so gentle when fucking you especially after you start to show and would way tone down the speed and roughness of your sex even if you complain about it
got her plan for the birth when she first found out and is ready the second you start showing signs of labor
refuses to leave your side through the entire birthing process and makes sure you're not in too much pain (she regrets that she can't dull the pain completely because the Dr's say that'd be dangerous)
Emma Frost:
the second you have the thought you might be pregnant, she's showing up with five different pregnancy tests and an already scheduled Doctor's appointment
a little nervous, but she hides it well and is more excited and happy to have a baby with you
you better get comfortable around the house because she won't be letting you set foot in the field or go on missions for nine months and there won't be any compromises about it
overbearing about everything prenatal, gets you all the recommended prenatal vitamins and gets very snippy when you eat/drink something that's not "nutritional for the baby"
does not like to be apart from you during and will hover over you anytime you're sitting asking if you need anything or telling you there's some pregnancy exercise she wants you to try
would never admit it, but seeing you pregnant with her baby turns her on like nothing else
would fuck you almost every night and grows a special love for spoon fucking because it's most comfortable one you start to show
an absolute disaster in the delivery room, she's so distressed about you and the baby being okay the entire time she's snapping at every doctor, nurse, and once you (she realized very fast that was not wise)
Anna-Marie (Rogue):
panics when you tell her because not sure you're both ready or that she even wants a baby, she worries the baby will have a power set like hers and struggle to control it, or she'll be a bad mother like Mystique
but the second you say something about how you're having the baby with or without her in your life, she's stepping right up because that's the last thing she wants and after a bit of reassurance and talking through things, she'll start to look forward to the idea of you having her baby
you're going nowhere near danger and if danger comes near you (very likely given how often the mansion / x-men homes get attacked) she's going ballistic on whoever threatened to hurt you
reads all the pregnancy books and is constantly trying to get you to follow all the recommended routines and do everything possible to prepare for labor
treats you like you're made of glass during sex, but after some encouragement and begging (plus research and talking to a Doctor) she'd pick it up after realizing it's safe
surpassingly calm during labor and stays right by your side to hold you hand and encourage you while you push
bonus hc for rogue: she'd be so scared her baby would have similar powers to hers and would drain your life force from inside while there's nothing she can do to save you (she knows mutant powers don't usually develop till puberty anyway but it's still a constant nightmare)
Ororo Munroe (Storm):
happy when you tell her, but is pragmatic about it, asking if you're sure and what you're planning to do before she gets too excited, but once you're sure, she's just so happy you're carrying her baby
knows you still want to be part of the team, but makes sure she's on every mission you come on and would make sure you're safe (she does that always anyways but it feels even more important knowing you're carrying her baby, she doesn't want you getting hit at all)
once you start showing, she's asking you to stay back and will be more forceful than she usually gets with you about it
always making sure you have everything possible you need and are following the doctor's orders very stubborn with you about your daily routines and habits to ensure a healthy pregnancy (you tell her you're craving something sweet- she's bringing you a strawberry)
overjoyed when you ask her to have sex during pregnancy because she gets to make you feel good and get you off your feet
would happily just eat you out and take care of herself but if you asked her to actually fuck you, she'll happily indulge you
she'll do her best to stay calm during labor but it will be storming outside as her control slips in her anxiousness
she'll hold your hand, encouraging you to squeeze as hard as you need and offering every possible word of encouragement as you labor
Betsy Braddock (Captain Britain/Psylocke):
happy, she's excited to take the next step with you, and though it's a surprise, she thinks she can be a good mom with you by her side
most of her nervousness comes from worrying about you during pregnancy and how your delivery will go
would be very unhappy about it, but would tolerate you coming on missions at first
would finally put her foot down about it once you start showing because it's more likely to impact you and makes it more real to her
spends the whole pregnancy looming over your shoulder waiting for you to need something from her or ask for something
makes notes of all the doctor's recommendations and reminds you every day about what you should be doing, eating, etc, and gets an attitude when you go against her
sees you carrying her baby as something so intimate and wants to reward that by giving you intimacy in return
she wants to make you feel good and every time you feel like it, she's ready to fuck you and make you cum, she understands you body very well and knows when / where she needs to hold back
she's calm during your labor, she trusts that you're in the best hands with the doctor's and nurses and assures you the whole time you're doing great
happy to let you crush her hand and apologizes at least once for getting you pregnant (even though she doesn't mean it, she's happy for the baby, but she's sorry for the pain)
Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat):
thinks you're playing a prank on her when you first tell her and only realizes you're serious when you get upset with her for laughing
gets really nervous about the prospect of you being pregnant because she doesn't feel quite ready to parent, but she's not going to abandon you, she knows the baby is hers, and she'll step up and try to be the best mother she can
she'll tolerate you coming on missions for a few weeks, but make sure you stick right by her side the whole time
but the second you have an ultrasound she can hear the fetus heartbeat- she's making the executive decision that you're done coming on missions for the foreseeable future
spends all her time trying to make you comfortable and is always researching what's good for pregnancy and encouraging you to do what's highly recommenced and beneficial
very stubborn about your diet and gives you a dirty look anytime you have caffeine or anything that's recommended to limit during pregnancy
she's done all the research and knows sex during pregnancy is generally safe and can sometimes help ease discomfort
she's all too happy to share this fact with you and is more than happy to make you feel good and fuck you
panicking during your labor but tries to appear calm for your benefit (she does a bad job but it helps a little)
tells you over and over again how good you're doing and stays right by your side no matter how long it takes
Illyana Rasputin (Magik):
shocked when you tell her, had the idea of "well I haven't been wearing condoms or pulling out this whole time and no pregnancy yet so it must be impossible" so she just stares at you dumbfounded
the thoughts come slow, but she manages to wrap her head around it and is just like okay, let's do this, let's have a baby and somehow goes from surprise to very overconfident in her ability to raise a child in a matter of minutes (she says repeatedly "what it's just a baby")
wouldn't think too much about you still coming on missions until the second you start to show and it's like a switch flips in her brain and she's demanding you stay out of the field
gets you everything you ask for or anything she thinks you'd need, which is often some weird food or drink she saw is good for pregnancy and then she'll stand there and watch you to make sure you eat / drink it
thinks it's hot when you start to show which surprises herself but she's happy to act on it
turns into a huge groper, hands always on your body, wandering over every part before she works you both up enough to fuck you
absolute disaster during the delivery, all the anxiety she hadn't been feeling during the pregnancy hits her all at once when you go into labor
pacing the room and muttering to herself about how she's crazy for thinking she could be a mother and your kids going to be have all kinds of problem because it's hers
has to be reminded repeatedly by nurses to calm down because she's stressing you out and manages to hold your hand and comfort you about half the time before she freaks out again
Laura Kinney (Wolverine):
very surprised and says she needs some time alone to think about it
calm when she comes back and ready to hear whatever you have to say about, though she is very scared about her abilities to be a good mother because of her lack of childhood, but after reassurance, she gets excited about the prospect of having a baby with you
no you will not be coming in the field anymore and if you try to argue with her about she gets very broody and upset with you about putting yourself and "her baby" in danger
asks you every 2 seconds if you're alright and need anything and wants to assist you in everything you do even if it's not a two person task (shower? she's in there too, taking a nap? she's right there watching you sleep, waking up at night because you can't sleep? she's following you to the living room to sit with you on the couch, where she promptly falls asleep slumped against your belly)
very hesitant to hurt you and would rather just eat you out and jack off than fuck you, but after a lot of begging, she'd agree to fuck you just a lot more gently than normal
freaks way out when you start spotting after though and only calms down after looking it up to see that it's normal after sex
trainwreck in the delivery room, seeing you in pain deeply upsets her especially because she's partially responsibly and there's nothing she can do aside from let you squeeze her hand
so anxious and accidentally lets the helpful advice slip that if you push harder, the baby would come out faster (she had to take a break from the room after that so you could calm down)
