#telepath reader

[earlgreylatte]

Telepathic Woes

With your powers going haywire, you end up inadvertently seeing the desires of your friends, which happen to star you.

You already knew you were going to have a bad week when you woke up on a rooftop in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen with a headache bad enough to make you feel like you got axed by a serial killer, feeling your powers pulse as you blink, alerting you of your companion before your vision even focuses on him. Last time you help out the X-men, something you should have left with your youth.

“Am I in hell?” You ask.

“You make that joke every time you pop up here,” his gravelly voice lightens when he huffs out a laugh, hand cradling the back of your head as you’re splayed in his lap. “Although usually you’re not passed out on top of my building.”

“Because I feel like I’m being punished when I’m around you, obviously,” you retort, pushing yourself up until your head is brushing against his chin as you observe your surroundings, slowly rebuilding the shield in your mind, feeling the residues of something foreign.

“Not that I’m unused to the harshness, but what have I done to earn to your ire this time sweetheart?” He pulls you up to your feet, hand still on the small of your back, as you slowly centre yourself.

“Exist,” you mutter, rubbing your head before elaborating, “I don’t really like being around someone with senses like yours, ‘s weird that you know what I last ate…I avoid Logan for the same reason, not that it’s hard these days.”

He tilts his head and you realize the irony of your words, “Unlike some other people, I avoid even glimpses into other people’s heads! I use my power for quick, impersonal mind whammies!”

“Really? Not even a peak?” He asks, steadying you after your outburst when you sway. “Never curious enough to see what people think about you?”

“I don’t want to know, dealt with that weirdness when I was a kid,” you respond, gripping his arms when your headache gets worse.

“Guess I should be grateful for that.”

You rest your head against the cool playing on his chest, “Why’s that—“

You have a hard time describing what happens next, a clear dissonance occurring between body and mind. You’re aware you and Matt are just having an innocent enough conversation, but at that moment you can feel his lips pressed against yours, hands roughly exploring your body, and he grips you closer until you’re pressing on his—

“—hey! Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

He’s peering down at you, concern clear from the frown as his face and how his thoughts move to calling some for—

His thoughts?

“Oh god,” you push him away, stumbling back, realization hitting you like a bus.

“Careful—!”

“Wait, wait,” you press your face against your hands before inhaling. “This could jusy be a fluke or maybe it’s me—“

Before he can question your rambling, you quickly cross the distant to get his space again, moving closer until your lips are less than an inch away from his.

“What are you doing?” He asks impassively, voice dropping an octave lower to his ‘devil voice’, and yet you can see his intent so clearly, feel it, his thoughts chanting your name over and over—

You let out a shout, the man flinching as you quickly back away again.

He calls your name before pausing, a flicker of something crossing over his half masked face before his unseeing gaze drop his head down for a moment, “Are you—“

You let another cry of frustration, moving across the rooftop before dropping down to the nearest fire escape, “Don’t you dare put this on me when it’s your fault in the first place! How I’m reacting is actually a reflection of you! You’re the one getting turned on a rooftop, not me!

“Wait—!”

You ignore his calls, running away until you’re sure you’re outside of his radar.

Why is that your powers going out of control now is way more bothersome now than when you were a child!?

*

After sleeping the weirdness away, you’re feeling better, so you’re willing to put the humiliation from last night away and pray you never run into Matt again until you die.

So when you’re visited by your friendly neighbourhood Spider-man you aren’t concerned, tossing him a bagel as you join him on your balcony, uncaring of your pyjamas being seen by him due to his continued visits.

“Here to clean out my pantry again?” You ask, looking down at the streets below, quiet as the sky is still stained pink from the rising sun.

“One time, and you never let me live it down,” he sighs, pulling his mask up to eat. “And I’m actually here for business today.”

“Oh? Need help tracking down a lost cat?”

“A little devil told me you ran off last night in hurry after acting maybe the slightest bit strange?” He turns to face you fully, crossing his arms like a disappointed dad.

“And?”

“And?”

“What else did he say?” You ask, suspicion clear.

“That you ran off like a bat out of hell, which isn’t too far—“

“Maybe he should mind his own business,” you scoff, “And so should you, for that matter.”

“He also said you were mad, which you’re not exactly disproving,” he retorts, moving a bit closer until he’s able to link his fingers with you, weirdly touchy bastard that he is, “If something’s going on, you know you can tell me.”

For a moment you swallow your embarrassment, feeling his sincerity, his thoughts blending into yours, his worry—

“Damn it!” You curse, slapping your forehead.

“Well, that’s one way to ruin the mood, but I get it too touchy-feely for you, maybe we should—“

You ignore him and sink to your knees, pressing your head against the railing. Your powers going haywire was becoming barely noticeable, the absence of your usual restraint feeling natural, the same way trailing your hands up Peter’s thighs does, resting your face against his knee as you peer up at him—

“Dude, seriously!?” You shoot up to glare at him as he quickly raises his hands in surrender.

“You didn’t look like you were in the mood to eat your bagel, sorry—“

You raise the hem of your shirt up, revealing some of your stomach and feel his thoughts heat up before you scoff.

“You too!?”

“I am so confused right now,” he mutters before jolting when you storm back into your living room, slamming the balcony door shut behind you, “Where are you going!?”

“To shower!” You shout back without turning around.

Hopefully you’ll find some sort of clarity.

…Among other things.

*

You still weren’t desperate enough to consult with Jean or Professor Xavier, you had your pride.

So, instead you find yourself in the Baxter Building, once again intruding on another meal.

Franklin greets you as you arrive, waving a hand, engrossed with Val’s tablet before Sue turns it invisible with a chiding look.

“Look who’s here uninvited! Again!” Johnny declares, swinging an arm around your shoulder and guiding you to the table.

“Johnny…” Sue sighs before turning to you with a warm look, “Staying for breakfast?”

“I was looking for Reed, had something I wanted to ask him,” you explain as Johnny passes you a glass of juice.

“Still down in the lab with Ben, who can hopefully tear him away from his latest find, we recently discovered a rather peculiar bacteria—“

“Why do you need to talk to Reed? Something going on?” Johnny interrupts.

“Kind of—just,” you pause, turning to stare at him blankly.

You’ve actually seen into Johnny’s head before casually, the blond near shouting his thoughts to catch your attention everytime you see him, making sure you hear every joke and comment he has. Including the ones that are flirty and filled with sexual undertones. Knowing him for so long, you were desensitized to a point.

“Go on,” you sigh, already knowing what to expect. You met him when you were both still teenagers, his head can’t be any worse than those days.

“What?” He tilts his head before narrowing his eyes at you, “If something’s going on, you know you have the Fantastic Four are backing you up, so tell your old pal Torch what’s wrong, and we’ll get it all sorted.”

You’re stunned for a second, before you have to bite back a smile, really you should have known better—

You’re suddenly hit with the sound of wedding bells and the image of you exchanging rings with Johnny. You whip around to see Sue starting at you with a too big smile.

“Hey, are you okay?” Johnny nudges you, looking at you with concern as you press a hand to your chest, drawing into yourself.

“I think,” you breathe out, “my liver is trembling?”

“Huh?”

“I believe you have your organs mixed up,” Val pipes up.

“We should bring you to Reed—! Wait, where are you going!?”

*

“Now here’s a face I haven’t seen in a while, you could have projected a warning, you know,” Emma smiles, posture straight as a bow as you try not to spill tea on her very white couch.

“Can you get your daughters to stop eavesdropping…?” You ask, feeling their inquisitive prodding.

“Yes, they’re a curious bunch, a good trait to have, especially when our local mutant recluse so suddenly shows up,” She hums, and you can feel her warning flare out.

Confident that you two finally have some privacy, you reveal your current struggle in reigning in your powers.

She taps her acrylics against her leg in thought, “Are you sure you aren’t just pent up?”

You picture something unpleasant.

“No need for that now, I’m just saying that maybe your powers are trying to give you a push.” She looks annoyingly amused as she says that.

“What, like some sort of sentience?”

“Hmm, more like you being in denial? You know emotions play a role in our powers, especially if we’re lacking in control.”

“This is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever had to listen to,” you declare, setting your tea aside. “I’m leaving.”

As you turn your back, she calls out, “Don’t you want to see my fantasy?”

“No!”

As soon as your hand touches the front door, you feel something smack against your head, like a wadded up ball of paper. You’re hit with images of Emma straddling you—

“FUCK OFF!”

Her laughter rings through your head as you rush away.

*

“I see, I believe I understand what you’re trying to convey,” Kurt nods, thankfully not at a sanctuary in the mountains for once.

“That everyone around me is a pervert,” you nod in resignation.

He smiles at you almost knowingly.

“Okay, yeah, sexual attraction is normal and healthy or whatever, but I don’t want to see it!” You complain.

“Sometimes our own unmet desires torment us more than the people around us,” he says, patting your arm, “You have always refused to see the hearts of others, so maybe now you may subconsciously crave that knowledge.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kurt,” you bite out instinctively, before slumping, “…sorry.”

“Already forgiven, my friend.”

You sigh, finally making eye contact with your old ally, “Okay, maybe, you do have a point. I can’t even tell if I’m the one having questionable thoughts about your tail or you.”

“I’m usually able to restrain myself when a dear friend comes to me for advice,” he laughs, eyes lighting up.

“Usually…I don’t need powers to know what’s on in your mind most of the time, Kurt,” you scoff.

“You know me well, liebeling, but I’m sure I can still find some ways to surprise you,” he purrs, leaning closer.

Maybe you should have went to Kurt from the very start.

The tldr of this one is ‘fuck you, fuck you, definitely fuck you— not you though, Kurt, I mean, unless you want to…🤭’

Masterlist

[dix0nspretty]

All Logan's Fault

Summary: Telapath!Reader goes on an intel mission with Logan and Storm comes along to play mediator and babysitter. It's really all Logan's fault that you dropped the aphrodisiac test tube. Now if only we knew how to fix this...

Logan Howlett x Ororo Munroe x GN!Mutant!Reader, 9.2k words

Era: None in particular. A happy one?

TW: 18+ Dubcon (dubious consent- sex pollen. All characters want one another pre-ingestion of substance). DNI if not interested.

Reader is a telepath and is referred to by a nickname, with no use of y/n. Only reader descriptions include hair long enough to pull and female genitalia. Sex pollen by the ominous name of 'the chemical', threesome, enemies to lovers (kinda. Reader can't stand Logan but only because they want him.) Pussy pronouns, hair pulling, deep throating, swallowing, teasing, anal, unprotected PiV (wrap or else), fingering, mean!Logan (just a bit), nipple play, objectification, overstimulation to the point of passing out, mentions of strap-ons.

Enjoy my first X-Men fanfiction courtesy of a request put in my one of my best friends! If I missed any tags, please comment and inform me so I can add them as soon as possible. Have fun, you demons.

You hate going on missions with Logan.

Big, bad, overly hyped Wolverine. Every man, woman, and child in Xavier’s Institute fawns over the man. To be frank, it pisses you the fuck off.

What does he have that other mutants don’t? Good hair? So does Scott. A snappy, witty attitude that makes you want to rip your hair out? You, Kurt, and almost every mutant in a 50-mile radius has that. A 500-pound adamantium skeleton with really cool claws?

… Okay, he might have you beat with that one.

The man drives you half-insane and you can’t stand how he’s treated like the Mutant Messiah of the mansion, like he’s the best thing since white bread. So naturally, Charles pairs the two of you up for an intel mission at every possible minute. Typical.

 The only thing making this even remotely bearable is the fact that you aren’t alone with him this time. Ororo, or Storm, is piloting the jet. God knows you and Logan can’t be trusted to do it. Between the bickering and snapping, you’d end up crashing in a field before you get 5 minutes from the school.

 Beautiful, smart, kind, funny Ororo, with her awesome hair and her sweet eyes. Looking like the epitome of an X-Man in the suit that clings perfectly to her body, her thighs and chest mouth-wateringly delicious… You’re broken from your daydreaming by Logan’s voice. Again.

“Run me through it one more time kid,” Logan asks in a tone that makes you want to rip his eyes from his head. Maybe you can convince Storm to help you come up with a great way to dispose of his body. One where Charles has no chance of finding it.

He loves making you do this, run him through a mission over and over and over again, like some stupid power move. A way to assert his dominance or just to see the steam blow from your ears. It’s yet another way of him reminding you that he’s held in higher esteem than you, given that you’re an early-20s mutant who’s yet to save the world or whatever the hell he’s done. Everybody just adores him, and he’ll always be more liked than you, by Charles and everyone who crosses his path, save for Scott.

Maybe I can hide his body in the lake… he’ll sink easy, even with a head full of air.

“We land in the field to the east of the lab,” You start to list the details out for the third time this trip. “I stay on the outskirts and figure out how many people are inside. Storm covers us, you and I breach through the southern doors, get the chemical and whatever research we can and get out. Minimal bloodshed. How many more times are you going to make me run through this?”

“Until I’m convinced you’ve got it bub,” Logan says with that dumb fucking smirk. You’ll figure out how to rip it from his face, someway, somehow. “You sure you can get your powers to stretch far enough to handle it, Baby Xavier?”

That cursed nickname has you ready to shove him out of the jet. ‘Baby Xavier’. Not so lovingly gifted to you by Logan since you’re a telepath, exactly like Charles. “That’s not my name, Howlett,” you manage in a calmer tone than you were expecting.

“Alright,” Storm laughs from the front of the jet to try and calm you down. She’s well aware of your hatred for Logan and her role as mediator for the day. “Deep breaths. We’re here, go let your anger out somewhere I don’t have to supervise.”

“Thank God,” you mumble and get up from the seat in a flash, ready to get this mission done and get the hell away from Logan. Go back to the mansion and eat ice cream with Ororo, hopelessly fanning the flames of your massive crush. “Let’s get this done.”

Infiltrating the lab was laughably easy. There were only six minds in the whole place, counting the three guards. And despite Logan’s smartass comment, you easily lulled the guards to sleep from a distance, grinning smugly when your quiet telepathic command of ‘night night’ knocked the guards unconscious.

Storm provided cover for the pair of you, a thick fog that rendered security cameras useless and you and Logan invisible. Charles provided blueprints from the lab prior to the mission, but you stay in one of the scientist’s minds long enough to guide you down the halls. You catch mention of the chemical in their head and nod at Logan to signal that it’s here.

You have to give it to him. For such a brass, narcissistic, heavy brute of a man, he is remarkably good at stealth. No sassy quips, all focus and strength. It’s easy to see why everybody likes to work with him and that just pisses you off all the more.

Stupid, competent, handsome, sexy, Canadian fucker.

You make it through the relatively abandoned halls and take a second outside of the main doors to the actual laboratory to press two fingers to your temple and put 2 of 3 scientists down for a quick nap.

With a nod to Logan, he breeches the door with a swish of adamantium claws and the two of you burst in. The one remaining conscious scientist is… armed? He’s holding a gun. That must be breaking some kind of rule, right? That’s what the guards are for.

But before you can put him down for a nap like his buddies, Logan has already punched him in the face and knocked him unconscious, snatching the gun up. He crunches the pistol into a pretzel and drops it to the ground. “No guns for children.”

“Always with the brute force,” You roll your eyes and start going through the first stack of files in search of the needed intel. Charles needs physical evidence for this mission so you can’t just root through the scientists’ minds and go. “He could’ve told us where to look.”

“You know you’re into it, Baby Xavier,” He gives you that cheeky grin, perfect canines peeking out to say hello. Smug bastard.

You bristle, lips pursed and moving to start to check a table far from his search in a desperate attempt to not kill him. Minimal bloodshed and all. “Just find the damn intel and the chemical so we can all go home. Storm, you’re good to come in,” you tell her over comms before turning your mic back off.

Logan hums, making an annoying clicking sound with his tongue while rooting halfheartedly around the papers and lighting a cigar. “Go home and rest or go home so you can keep drooling over Ororo’s tits and nurse your little crush, bub?”

He did not.

He did not just say that. Your jaw drops and maybe steam really is coming out of your ears because they burn like hell. “Shut the fuck up, Howlett. Mind your business and find the goddamn… stuff.”

You fumble your words in anger and disbelief that he would say that so casually, talking about a teammate’s body and your interest in her like it’s the weather report. Is his comms system even muted? Dear God, please be muted. If she heard, I’ll have to move to Japan or something.

Logan just laughs as you retreat once more, this time searching for the actual chemical and leaving the harder work for him to do. He can read through mind-numbing reports and paperwork, the asshole.

You’re in the middle of inspecting yet another test tube, this one full of some purple powdery chemical concoction when Storm makes her entrance, giving you a soft smile that communicates friendship and understanding of your struggles with Logan’s wolfish attitude, promising wine and movies and shitty takeout in reparations for the damage your control of your emotions takes around him. She settles next to you at the table, making eye contact with those beautiful brown eyes of hers and white lashes fluttering. “You think that’s it?”

You hum and shrug. “Maybe, I saw this one a couple times in their memories. We can compare with the intel once Howlett actually finds it.”

If Charles asks, it’s all Logan’s fault. You’re sure of it. The test tube is in your hand when Logan appears by your side and goes to whisper what was likely going to be another teasing comment about your crush and the tube just… slips. Hits the ground and shatters, kicking up a puff of shimmering purple dust and flooding the space around your bodies.

“Son of a fucking bitch,” you curse and jump away on instinct, hoping against hope that the chemical isn’t corrosive or fatal or does something on a supervillain level. Logan is yanking you away by your bicep and you don’t fight at first, only pushing him off when you’re all a safe distance away from the mess. “Back it up, kid, Jesus.”

The three of you stand there and watch while the dust settles, literally. “Maybe we’re alright?” You offer up weakly, glancing between the older mutants. Logan doesn’t look so convinced and Storm offers a wary expression. “I don’t feel any different and my body parts are all attached and not melty.”

“Maybe,” Storm agrees, but you can tell it’s just to placate you and keep you from panicking, even without dipping into her mind. A dust like that is highly likely to be an airborne weapon and the chance you all managed to avoid inhaling it are… unlikely.

“Let’s go kid,” Logan grabs you by the arm and drags you from the lab, ignoring your squawk and attempts to get his hand off. His grip is iron-clad, easily swallowing up your arm. You don’t know how you managed to forget how strong he is, his hand so big and capable…

“The intel, we didn’t-” You’re cut off when he waves a stack of papers at you. He looks…  furious. His brows are tightly knitted and there’s a ripple in his jaw that speaks of violence you’ve only seen a few times. It’s a miracle his claws are still concealed. If both him and Charles hadn’t warned you extensively to stay out of his head, you would’ve been able to taste the anger in his thoughts on your tongue.

Storm shakes her head, brown eyes pleading that you don’t speak, and you fall silent, being dragged from the lab like an unruly child about to get in trouble by their parents the second you get home. And that’s exactly how you feel. You fucked up the mission, even if it was Logan’s fault. You dropped the test tube and exposed not only yourself but two teammates as well to an unknown biochemical weapon.

Great fucking job.

The collar of your uniform starts to itch as Logan pulls you through the halls with an angry yet still gentle grip, soft enough to not bruise. The yellow material suddenly feels too hot and clingy, sticking to sweaty skin and making your nose wrinkle in disgust. There’s no reason for you to be sweating so hard. Did Storm just scratch at her suit too…?

The cool late afternoon air hits your skin but does nothing to ease the heat radiating from your body. Logan’s hand feels just as hot where he’s holding you. His big, strong, hand. So capable and manly.

I wonder what it would look like around my throat… or knuckle-deep in my pussy. I bet even just one finger would feel heavenly, such a nice stretch-

You blink a few times, trying to drag your mind to a halt. What the fuck was that? Was that a sex fantasy about Wolverine? Logan?

That’s not to say that Logan isn’t an attractive man. You might hate him and fantasize about drowning him in boiling hot water when he teases and taunts you and calls you ‘Baby Xavier’ in front of the students, but you can appreciate how nice his ass looks in a pair of jeans or the deliciousness of his biceps.

What it might be like to be underneath him, face buried into the crook of his neck as he bullies himself into you. Or laid on your stomach in a head lock, teeth locked into his forearm while he fucks you hard enough to go cross-eyed.

They’re so big, bigger than my head. I wonder if he’s into biters… Okay, what the fuck is going on??

You glance sideways over to Logan and Ororo, trying to get a read on their physical states. Logan’s sweating, but that could be from his fury at you. Storm looks a little flustered and is staring with laser focus on the jet, not risking even a glance at you which admittedly hurts.

With a lick of your lips, you do the one thing you promised Ororo, Logan, and Charles you wouldn’t do and slip into their minds. Not completely but just enough to see if they’re struggling the same way you are. Ororo’s mind, the few times she’s let you in, feels like cool water whenever she’s calm. Like a peaceful babbling brook in the early morning.

Right now, it’s a raging waterfall, filthy thoughts of Logan rushing by at the speed of light in a million and one positions. Bent over the control panel of the X jet, riding him in the pilot’s seat, fucking on the floor and every other surface in the jet with you watching. An image of you eating her out while Logan fucks into you from behind appears in your mind and you stumble, saved from busting your ass by Logan’s unyielding grip. “Get it together, kid. Come on.”

You completely ignore Logan’s words, missing the strained tone in his voice. Me? She wants… me?

And yes. Yes, she does. A dozen more scenes roll through both of your minds, you and her and Logan in a myriad of positions and dynamics, the sound of your voice begging her for more and more and more, you are letting her rail you with her strap- she owns a strap?

Suddenly you want nothing more than to be back at the mansion and in Ororo’s bed. The thought of her wanting you enough to imagine the filthy thoughts you’re getting has a rush of arousal hitting you. That’s when you realize the inside of your uniform in drenched and has been for God knows how long. You pull out of Ororo’s head and glance at Logan, hoping he can’t smell it with his sensitive-ass senses.

With a gentle nudge, you push into his mind and if you thought Storm’s thoughts were nasty, Logan’s are animalistic. It’s like your own mind is shoved to the side and the only thing you can think are his thoughts.

There are more images than sounds in Logan’s head, quick angry flashes of fucking you and Storm with a fury that simultaneously thrills and scares you just a bit. Fantasies of drilling you into the mattress until your cervix is bruised and your legs won’t stop trembling, fucking load after load into you until you’re crying for him to slow down. Pulling out of you only to make you take Storm’s strap while he fucks her from behind, being choked by the tight rim of her pretty ass.

A moan falls from your lips before you can help it and both older mutants zero their gazes in on you. Logan pushes back in his head and ejects you from his mind, a trick you’d heard Charles commend him for when he first discovered Logan could do it with no training.

“The hell you doing in my head?” He growls, hand tightening on your arm just to the point of hurting. But now you can see his anger for what it really is- wild, unrepentant horniness.

You swallow past the dryness in your throat and croak out, “Aphrodisiac.”

Never in your life have you felt so submissive under the gaze of a person, not even when under your past partners. These are two of your teammates- older teammates. Storm has 8 years on you and Logan over 200. You’re practically a baby compared to them, lacking in experience in every possible field. “The ch-chemical. It’s an aphrodisiac… a strong one. I… I needed to know I wasn’t losing my mind. Sorry.”

Ororo and Logan glance at one another, communicating silently in a way you have yet to master. It feels like a lifetime before they turn their gazes back to you and you swear the combined power of pure horniness in their eyes nearly has you coming right there.

“How strong?” Ororo asks, sounding remarkably put together considering what you saw running through her mind moments ago.

Logan answers for you, more of a growling noise than his typical snarky voice. “Very. ‘Fuck or die’ strong. The more you’re exposed to, the worse it is, and our special little Baby Xavier is ground zero since they were holding the fucking tube. Add that with them poking around in our heads…” He scoffs, just a hint of amusement in the noise. “They’re fucked. And need to be, unless we want to explain to Chuck why we left with three X-Men and came back with two.”

Maybe he was paying attention when he was looking through the paperwork at the lab. But you don’t really give a shit because all you catch is ‘special little Baby Xavier’ and ‘need to be fucked’. “Please,” you beg desperately, your core clenching down on nothing. “Please, please, please. Please fuck me.”

Any other circumstance, you would rather drop dead than beg in an open place for a good dicking down by anybody, much less your two older teammates. But you’re clenching continuously with slick actually running down your thighs in the tight leather uniform and it hurts like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

Logan grits his teeth so tight it’s a miracle his teeth don’t shatter. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, bub.”

Ororo’s eyes hold sympathy and understanding, even if her pupils are blown out with need and she looks like she’s going to maul one or both of you. “Honey-”

“I do,” you disagree with a shake of your head. “I do, I do. I saw- you and Ororo. The things you want to do to me. To each other. Please. Please, please, please, I need it. It hurts, Lo.”

Any chance of you being spared by Logan goes out the window when the nickname slips from your lips. His grip tightens painfully, and he marches the trio back to the jet with purpose, eyes black and dangerous. “You need to get fucked that bad, bub? You gonna beg all pretty like that the whole time or just until she’s satisfied?”

“I’ll beg all you want,” you nod, jogging to keep up with his pace. The heat from the chemical in your bloodstream feels like it’s boiling you alive, the cramps from your pussy like stab wounds. “Pretty pretty please Logan, fuck me. I need it, it hurts. It hurts so bad. Please. Ro, tell him. Tell him how it hurts, I know you feel it.”

Ororo winces, watching his hand tighten to the point where you’ll be sporting a Logan-shaped handprint for days. “I know, sweetheart. I know it hurts; we’ll take care of you.”

“Damn right I’ll fucking take care of you,” Logan pushes you into the jet with enough force that you have to catch yourself on the nearest chair, trembling hands already fighting to get the zipper of your suit open. “If you have any boundaries, tell me now. I’m not going easy, bub.”

“Don’t be mean to me,” you say and whine pathetically when you can’t get the uniform open. “I can’t take teasing. It hurts so fucking bad, I can’t. Don’t do it.”

“Okay sweetie,” Ororo pushes Logan out of the way and approaches you, gently taking hold of your trembling hands. “Go make sure comms are off and we’re out of sight. The last thing we need is Charles or guards wandering up to the jet. Go.”

Logan looks like he’s thinking about disobeying, but another silent communication between the two has him stalking away with a growl.

Ororo turns back to you, giving you a soft smile and brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your face before caressing your damp cheek. “You’re going to be just fine, honey. Logan and I will take care of you. You don’t have to worry.”

Your begging calms some, nodding and looking at her with pupils so blown your irises are mere suggestions. “It hurts, Ro. You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” She eases your hands down to your side with lingering touches. “You’re very handsome yourself. I’ve always loved your eyes, so expressive and beautiful…”

When she kisses you, it’s soft and slow. She tastes like spearmint and rainwater. It’s a clumsier first kiss than you would’ve liked, your own actions fumbling with desperation from the chemical ravaging your body, but it’s sweet and grounding in a way.

You can almost hear the waves of her thoughts hitting the rocks, the mental waterfall rushing and raging. For just a second, it’s strong enough for a glimpse of you on your knees with her strap down your throat, mindless and drooling, to appear in your mind before it’s gone as suddenly as it appears. They both have so much self-control compared to you, and it feels like you’re bursting out of your skin in pain and need. Ground zero was right.

“I want that,” you blurt out. “Me, you, Logan. Your strap and-and everything. I can’t- I’m sorry, I can’t stay out of your heads. My control is shot to shit.” Ororo shakes her head with a soft smile. “It’s okay, baby. I know. Don’t worry about it, just let Lo and I take care of you, okay? Can I take your uniform off? You’re going to get heatstroke at this point.” Her hands hover over your chest, waiting for permission.

“Please,” you plead and shove your chest into her hands, moaning from the bare minimum stimulation your nipples get from the action. “Please, please. Take it off, touch me. I’m going to go insane if I don’t get something.”

“Shh, sh, sh,” Ororo coos and unzips your uniform, exposing your sweat-soaked chest to the cool air of the jet. Your breasts are trying to spill from your bra, a simple black bralette that’s a bit too small for you. “I told you Logan and I will take care of you. All you have to do is listen. You’re doing good, just listen to me, okay?”

You nod eagerly, a moan filling the air of the back portion of the jet when she unclasps your bra and gently kneads, getting a feel for the warm and soft flesh in her hands. “I’ll listen. I’ll listen, I’ll be good. I swear, Ro. I’ve been thinking about this for so long, I’ll be so good for you.”

Her brow raises and she runs a soft thumb over your painfully hard nipple, drawing a whine from you. “You’ve been thinking about this, hm? And how long have you been doing that for, honey?” She continues her gentle touch before tilting down and sucking your nipple into her mouth, catching you when your knees buckle. She eases you into the nearest seat, pushing your uniform off your arms to gather around your waist without detaching her mouth from your breast.

“Months,” your voice comes out needy and desperate, a hand finding the back of her head to gently hold her head in place. “N-needed you for months, Ro.”

She hums and releases your right breast with a gentle nip that makes you clench down on air and further ruin your uniform. “I’ve been thinking about you too, angel. Keep making those pretty noises.”

Her mouth feels so good, the pleasure easing the sting of the chemical in your body, just a touch. She’s good with her tongue, better than you could ever expect. “Saw your strap, in your head. Want it. When we go home. If you’ll let me take it. I can take it, Ro, I swear. Please let me take it?”

She lifts her head to coo at you again, pressing soft kisses to your wet cheeks. “Shh, honey. Focus on the here and now, yeah? Don’t worry your pretty little head about later. We’ll make sure you get what you need.”

You’re aware that she’s repeating the same platitudes to you in attempts to keep you calm and relatively docile but the only thing you can focus on is the hand she slipped into the front of your uniform. Your head falls back with a gasp and you’re nodding desperately while her soft and nimble fingers explore your soaked folds. “Look at you…” She murmurs with the same soft smile she always gives you. “Absolutely drenched. Is this all for me, baby?”

“Yes, yes. All for you, Ro, just for you. Please. More, I need more,” A mewl leaves your lips and you arch against the seat when she meets your begging with two fingers slipping easily into your pussy. There isn’t a hint of resistance from your body, accepting her in like she belongs. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

 You aren’t sure when it happens, but you blink and your uniform has been entirely discarded, your right leg thrown over Storm’s shoulder as she sits on her knees between your thighs. She is down to her last knuckle in you, three fingers wide and her hand is absolutely drenched with your juices. “Please Ro, please,” you beg and plead.

The ache in your core is easing just slightly as your orgasm builds, legs trembling and your hand clutching the arms of the seat. Whimpers and whines flood the back of the jet and it’s a mess of tearful begging and moaning followed by Ororo’s soft reassurances and the wet squelch of her fingering you. “You’re doing so good for me, angel, just keep taking it. There you go, so good. So good for me. I feel you squeezing my fingers. Go ahead and come for me. Let go for your Ro, hm? Come on, baby.”

“Mhm,” you whine, legs trembling as the pleasure crawls up your body and ecstasy blossoms in your core. The orgasm is out of this world, colors and shapes bursting in the darkness of your closed eyes. “Ro. Ro, Ro…”

“There’s my honey. Good, you did so good…” She works you down slowly, easing you through your orgasm and ensuring you won’t get overstimulated until her hand leaves your core. There’s no doubt that she’s burning with need and it’s a miracle Logan’s stayed out of sight for as long as he has. Their control is remarkable, something you can’t even think of having now. “Just breathe.”

You barely have time to recover and watch her clean your cum from her fingers before the need and fever slam back into you even worse, a cry of pain filling the air. Logan’s words from earlier float back into your mind while you pant and writhe. Fuck or die.

You need more than fingers, more than Ororo. You need them both. “Where’s Lo?” You whine, mortified by the tears leaking from your eyes but searching desperately for the man.

“Right here, bub.”

The speed with which you whip around to make eye contact would be comical if you weren’t convinced you’ll die in the next 15-20 minutes. “Logan.”

“Oh look, you can still remember your names. Good job,” Logan’s hair is a mess. It looks as if he’s run his hands through it multiple times to keep himself under control. He’s sweaty and panting, wet spots visible on his uniform from where he’s been struggling with his own prominent issue from the aphrodisiac. Very prominent.

Your eyes are glued to the thick bulge that he’s clearly hastily tucked away. He must’ve been trying to ease his own pain using the sound of Ororo helping you. The thought has Storm having to hold you in place because you’re trying to claw your way up and to him, as if your legs would even work right now. “Woah. Deep breaths, sweetie. He’s coming over here, no need to get up. Stay still for us. You promised to be good for me, remember?”

You risk a quick glance at Ororo and falter under her soft reminder. It wasn’t an actual order, but it feels like one. Logan approaches with a hungry look in his eyes, raking from your feet up to the top of your head like he gets nourishment just from the sight. “Are they good?”

You’re trying to figure out what the question is referring to when Ororo answers. “They came once but it seems like it made it worse. They need more than my fingers and I’m going half-crazy. The stretch might be a little much, but there’s so much slick I don’t think they’ll even feel the pain.”

They’re talking about you like you’re an object and not a sex chemical-crazed, needy mess of a telepath needing dick like you need air, maybe even more. And fuck if that doesn’t just make you even wetter.

“Lo,” you whimper and open your legs wider, hoping to entice the Wolverine in. It works like honey and flies.

“You want my help now, huh Baby Xavier?” He grins and approaches slowly, resting a hand on Ororo’s head where she sits between your thighs. It’s a smile you’ve seen hundreds of times before accompanied by that god awful nickname but this time it doesn’t antagonize or piss you off. There’s a promise of pleasure, more than you’ll ever know how to handle and you crave it. “Want ‘Lo’ to ease that ache, sweetheart?”

You nod like a broken bobblehead and open your sticky thighs even wider. It feels like an actual fire in your core, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you’re bleeding from the pain. “Help, Lo. Hurts. Fuck me, please. Please. Need it. Need it, Lo.”

He hums and gets a handful of Ororo’s white hair at the root, tugging her head back so she’s looking him in the eyes. “So, they’re losing their shit. How’re you feeling?”

There’s something about the way the two older mutants are interacting that paints a picture of previous intimacy. You aren’t sure how you missed the signs, but they’ve been together before.

“I need something,” Ororo tells Logan, a hint of desperation in her words you didn’t catch the entire time she was fingering you. “They aren’t wrong, it burns. Think you can get us both off?”

Logan laughs, dark and confident. He releases her hair and gives her a gentle push. “Go get undressed and I’ll take care of you, too. My poor pretty sluts.”

Ororo disappears to the front of the jet, leaving you alone with Logan for the first time since this all happened. It’s less than a second before he’s on top of you and you’re kissing like two starving beasts. Logan and Ororo are hot and cold- where she was soft and slow, taking care of you and preparing you for Logan, he kisses you like he’s trying to eat you whole.

He takes entire control of the kiss, one large hand holding you in place by the roots of your hair. It’s not painful, but it’s controlling and dominating and so hot you can barely stand it. His mouth tastes like cigars and whiskey, burning hot like a bonfire. If you could think, you would be thanking Ororo for sending him off and letting her have first dibs. If Logan got his hands on you first, the two of you would have burned brighter than a dying star.

While he has full control of the kiss you aren’t a passive participant. Your teeth clash and nip, tongues shoving down one another’s throats. It only breaks when he tugs your hair to get you to expose your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kiss to your skin and ensuring every inch has some form of his mark, be it a hickey or a bite.

There’s more than one time where he bites hard enough to break skin, but it just makes you moan louder. “Please. Please.” You can’t get any more words out, losing your mind in the passionate moment.

“Please what?” He growls against your collarbone, nipping the bone. “Use your words, kid. Not all of us are mind readers like you and Chuck. What do you want?”

“Need you,” you pant and moan, holding his hair in just as tight a grip as he has on yours. “Need you.”

“Need me how?” he asks, mouth dropping down to your breasts and biting meanly. “My knee? My fingers? Maybe my mouth? I told you to use your words. I fucking meant it.”

There’s that asshole. God, you could throat punch him. “Your dick,” you hiss in equal parts annoyance and desperation. “I need your dick.”

He hums and pulls away, making you feel like you could rip your hair out. “As you wish, princess.”

You watch with bated breath as he starts undressing, pulling the zipper down at a slow enough pace that you could rip his throat out with your teeth if he doesn’t hurry the fuck up. You’re about to tell him just that when he finally gets the suit off. Your eyes trail down his bare, muscular chest, drool forming as you follow that delicious happy trail and to his red, leaking cock standing prominently against his stomach the second it’s free.

He's big. Not average-big but ‘oh God, how is all that going to fit?’ big and not to mention girthy. You’re still staring when he steps back up and between your knees, grinning wolfishly. “Cat got your tongue, bub?”

You try to answer him, mouth opening but can’t find your words when you’re face-to-face with dick, watching the precum bead at the top. Without thinking, you tilt forward and lick the fluid off which probably wasn’t your smartest decision. He grabs your hair against pushes you down until you gag on his thick length, one hand settling on his thigh. “You’re that fucking needy, huh kid? Just couldn’t resist trying to tease me?”

You mumble around him when he tugs you up just enough for you to get some air and then pushes you back down until you gag again, already having him almost to the root, nose brushing the soft hairs of his pelvis. “What was that? I can’t hear you with your mouth full, sweetheart. That’s okay, you can just tell me later.”

Asshole, you project into his head and start sucking him off as well as you can whilst trying to catch your breath and being held so far down. It’s clear he heard it, a laugh leaving his lungs. “Aw, I know. My poor baby. I told you to use your words, didn’t I? You said you needed my dick, but you didn’t tell me how. Sweet angel is too needy to think that far ahead, hm?”

Despite his mean and cruel tone, you pick up on one thought that stands out from behind his mental shield. If it gets to be too much, tap my thigh twice, bub. I’ll stop.

You hum in acknowledgement. This really isn’t what you meant when you said you needed dick, but he tastes so fucking good you can’t help yourself even though you genuinely feel like you’re about to die. You need to know what he tastes like, and you will never forgive yourself if you deny yourself this and never get another chance.

He pulls you off again and you whine at him like a kicked dog. “Easy, sweetheart. Lean back against the seat for me.” He’s cradling your chin in his huge hand and looking at you so nicely, even when he’s being an annoying asshole. You realize then that you would follow both him and Ororo to the ends of the earth and happily jump if they asked you to. You’re so fucked when this chemical wears off.

You lean back against the seat of the jet, and he shifts his stance, nudging your lips with the head of his cock. “Open up for me. Good, that’s it. Let me in.”

Logan braces himself with the shoulder of the chair and thrusts, sliding down your throat and back up. God only knows how you manage to not gag because tears are already slipping down your cheeks and drool down your chin after a few pushes. A raise of your shaky hand to your throat and you can feel him, drawing a muffled moan from you and a grunt of pleasure from him. “Yeah, bub. Take that for me. You wanted it so bad, go ahead.”

It’s several minutes later when Ororo chooses to reappear, now fully undressed and flustered and incredibly turned on when she catches sight of Logan throat fucking you. She looks absolutely divine. How the hell are you supposed to worship both at once? Thank God Logan’s got the reins because you could never choose if it was up to you. “Logan.”

He groans and looks over at her, grinning and looking at her like he might devour her whole. “Look at that, sweetheart. Doesn’t she look fucking amazing? Tell Ororo how pretty she looks for me.”

Your teary eyes look up at Logan, cock-drunk and hazy. You can barely remember your name, much less that you have telepathic powers and can communicate that way. So, you just let out a series of muffled noises as you try to talk with your mouth full, drool and tears soaking your face and throat.

Logan just laughs and nods, thrusting into your open mouth and talking over the wet gurgles. “Uh huh. Good job, bub. Now focus and let me worry about Storm.”

He beckons her over and pats your thigh. “Climb up.”

Ororo looks to you for consent, but you’re too far gone, watching Logan like he’s a god among men as he ravishes your throat. “You’re going to ruin them, you know,” she informs and shakily settles onto your bare thigh, moaning from the bare minimum contact.

“I’ve had my eye on baby for long enough,” he grunts and holds your head back against the seat with one hand, snaking the other down to play with Ororo’s nipples with practiced ease. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t. Ride their thigh for me, Ro.”

She does as instructed with a needy moan, but not without a huff, expecting more than that from him. She’ll just have to wait her turn. She glances over to check on you, your eyes hazy and unfocused as you look between the two mutants- Gods? - using you like a toy. “I think you fucked their brains out.”

“Nah,” Logan disagrees easily. “Haven’t gotten that far yet. Seems like sweet Baby Xavier just has a habit of going all submissive and doe eyed. Is that right, sweetheart?” He coos, a subtle mocking tone to it that you’re unable to pick up on. You hum back with a slow blink, throat constricting around him with a swallow. Logan growls and picks his pace up, chasing the high that you just put right in front of him. “Do that again, bub. Just like that.”

With both Ororo and Logan chasing their highs, you’re left to watch them both starry-eyed for several minutes. You swallow again and he comes down your throat with a ragged moan, hot and salty ropes filling your mouth and spilling down your chin with each thrust. “Fuck… Swallow, bub.”

Ororo’s working herself up to her orgasm with controlled roles of her hips on your thigh and fingers with more than a decade of practice. You gag as Logan pulls out and swallow everything he gave you, opening your mouth and giving him a soft “Ahhh…”

“Good,” Logan purrs at you. It seems like he’s worked through the aphrodisiac now. He smears the mess of tears, drool, and cum on your face. “What a pretty mess. You look depraved, sweetheart. Did I break Ororo’s favorite little mutant?”

“Mm-mm,” your head shakes in denial and your gaze zeroes in on the woman herself. She looks beautiful, head falling back with ecstasy as she gets herself off using your leg. Maybe she is a goddess. “Ro…”

Her brown eyes lock with yours and she offers you that same soft smile while coming down from her orgasm. “I’m good, honey. Focus on yourself. Pay attention to Logan.”

Your eyes obediently lock back onto Logan, a submissive volleyball between the two older mutants. You tilt up as high as you can reach, begging for a kiss or more contact in some way, shape or form. It shouldn’t surprise you that the man who made you such a mess is willing to kiss you after cumming in your mouth, but it does. And he likes it, if the growl is anything to go off.

Your tongues tangle for several long moments before his attention drags back to Ororo, some communication going on between the two of them that you would only get to be privy to if you snooped in their heads. But you’re too worried that your lack of control would get someone hurt right now, so you stay out of everyone’s mind, watching and waiting for a command.

“Stay in your seat and take a breather,” Logan instructs, holding your filthy chin between his fingers so your hazy, lustful eyes are stuck on him. “I’m going to take care of Storm and then it’ll be your turn again. Be good and I’ll play nice, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod with a soft whine, sniffling when Ororo gets up on shaky legs and drapes herself across the chair on the opposite side of the aisle. Logan pats your cheek, a little condescendingly, and follows her. An immediate sense of abandonment and loneliness crashes down but you ignore it in favor of curiosity and an urge to see the two interact without you in the way.

There’s very little foreplay between Ororo and Logan, almost as if they’ve been keeping their need on a backburner to take care of you first. That’s both an incredibly hot notion and something you feel more than a little guilty about. You’re the one who got everybody in this situation in the first place, after all, and now they’re babying you.

My eyes are glued to the two of them as they kiss messily for a minute or so before Logan bends her back down, fingers gathering up her slick and dragging it back and forth. “Think you can handle it, Munroe?”

She laughs shakily. “When can I not? Just don’t act like a damn bull in a China shop and I’ll be fine.”

“No promises.”

Logan spits in his hand and smears a mix of spit and her slick over Ororo’s ass and pushes himself into the tight ring of muscle with a hiss from her and a moan from him.

Oh. Oh, that’s not what you were expecting at all. Maybe that’s your drugged brain struggling to keep up, but you thought it was just going to be typical sex.

You are entranced as the two older mutants work together to get one another off. They look like the partners they are on the field, not a moment of awkwardness or too much need from either party even despite the drug pumping through everyone’s body. It makes you feel every bit the younger, less experienced mutant in the situation and if you were any less under the influence, you would be deep in your anxiety by now.

It’s torture watching and not able to participate, torn between wishing you were Ororo or Logan in this moment as your fingers fight with the chemical to try and get yourself an orgasm while Logan ruts Ororo into the seats. They both even sound hot, Logan grunting and those huge thighs and nice ass rippling with the work of his muscles. Ororo nice and soft and plush in all the right spots, the sounds of her moans flooding the air with his.

Never in your life have you felt more like a cuck and you’re relieved when they both finally finish. You’re not the kind that can handle sitting on the sidelines like this and the pain in your core has worsened to the point that you’re sure you’re bleeding internally.

 “Need you in me,” you tell Logan with a small sob before he’s even eased Ororo down to sitting, the pain becoming even more prominent. You pray he doesn’t try and tease you with his ‘use your words’ line. They truly will never find his body if he withholds it any longer.

Logan’s eyes soften and he nods, approaching your seat once more with sweat dripping from… everywhere. The man is still hard, as if he hasn’t had two orgasms back-to-back. “I know, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Isn’t that what Ro promised, that we’d take care of you?”

“Hush, angel. I’m just going over here to watch. You won’t want me in the way, I promise.” She seems like she’s fine now too and you’re frustrated that you’re the only one struggling anymore. Ground zero.

“Come on,” Logan’s huge hands hook under your arms and ease you down to the floor of the jet, settling between your thighs. The metal feels soothing on your feverish body and simultaneously makes you shiver. “It’s alright, I’ll take care of you. You trust me?”

“Trust you, Lo,” you repeat back and accidentally find yourself in his mind, looking through his eyes for a dizzying split second. You look fucked out. “I’m a mess.”

“What did I tell you about getting in my head?” He teases you, wiping some of the filth off your face. You’re about to apologize but he covers your mouth with his hand. “Let’s get the rest of this chemical out of your system, hm?”

You nod eagerly and roll your hips, rubbing and grinding against Logan. The act pulls twin moans from the two of you. “Needy little thing. Remember the thigh rule?”

He checks your face and must find the reassurance that he’s looking for because he starts to push and sink into you. The stretch is immediately dizzying, stealing your breath from your lungs and making the fire that’s been boiling you from the inside out cool just a touch. Logan hisses. “Jesus Christ, you’re so tight. Relax, sweetheart. You’re okay, it’s just me.”

Your eyes roll back and closed when he rubs small circles on your clit to make his progress easier, your body jerking with a rough moan as he feeds you inch after inch. “There you go, bub. She’s hungry, isn’t she? Look at her, trying to swallow me whole. So greedy.”

It takes a second for you to register the ‘she’ he’s referring to is your pussy, which helps ease the way for him. By the time Logan’s bottomed out in you, you’re convinced you can feel him in your throat and whining. “Move. Move, move, move,” you beg and plead even as you try to adjust to the burn of his intrusion.

Logan shakes his head and stays in place, although it clearly pains him to do so. “Not until that pretty girl you’ve been hiding from me loosens her grip a bit, sweetheart.”

You continue to whine and beg, squirming uselessly under his body. He presses one hand in the center of your stomach to keep you in place, drawing a loud and desperate moan as you arch off the floor of the jet. The pain switches straight to pleasure and Logan gets the cue he’s waiting for. “Atta girl. There you go, that’s right.”

He doesn’t spend long building up the pace, each thrust getting harder and faster. Maybe he screws like this normally or maybe the chemical hadn’t fully left his system, but he’s drilling you into the floor of the jet like it’s the only thing keeping the two of you alive. The sounds of wet skin slapping skin seem like the nastiest thing that’s happened today, but maybe that’s due to how intimate it is. Logan’s eyes are glued to your pussy, watching the ring of fluids build at the base of his shaft and your eyes are glued to him like he hung the moon and stars. “Lo, Lo,” you moan and tug yourself upright a bit.

He responds by forcing you to hike both legs up his hips. “Lock ‘em,” he grunts out and you obey instantly, clawing at his arms in pleasure when he somehow gets an even deeper angle that hits your g-spot repeatedly. Every thrust into you pulls a noise from your body, breathy and soft ‘ah’s filling the air. “Yes, yes…”

“Can’t believe you were hiding this between your legs, Baby,” he teases as he brutally snaps his hips into yours with a force that has your teeth rattling and any potential further responses are thrown out the window. You bury your face into his arm and just hold on for dear life. “Fucking heaven. Look at her swallowing me up. She was built for me, wasn’t she?”

You aren’t sure how long he drills you into the floor, but the orgasm comes swift, quick and all-encompassing. Your breath catches, your lungs seizing up with the ecstasy filling every atom in your body. Acting on instinct, you bite down on his bicep with a moan louder than you’ve ever managed before in your life, one following out with every convulsion of your cunt as it- no, she in Logan’s words, milks him for all she’s worth.

 For several seconds you swear you can see sounds and taste colors, even with your eyes squeezed tightly shut. Your entire body jerks and trembles, barely able to keep your hold on him. Is this what everyone talks about when they say, ‘Earth-shattering sex’?

“Fuck,” Logan curses with a hiss and a dark laugh, pace somehow managing to pick up even more when you clench down around him and bite. He’s chasing his high now, not yours. “Wish you told me you were a biter. I could’ve worked with that, baby.”

You whine at him and release his arm, quickly being railed into overstimulation. With an ease that simultaneously embarrasses and flatters you, he flips you so you’re on your stomach in a headlock- the same way you glimpsed in his mind what felt like forever ago. He’s bullying your cervix, bumping it with every impossibly deep thrust that has you seeing stars and making a further mess of yourself. “Almost there, sweetheart. You can take it for me, can’t you? You can last a little longer for your Lo.”

Ororo must be getting the show of her life, but your eyes won’t cooperate enough to look at her, squeezing shut again with a whimper. Logan harasses another orgasm out of you, one that makes you see spots and almost convinces you you’re going to have to tap out.

“Want to see those fucked dumb eyes when I fill you up, sweetheart,” Logan grunts and pants into your ear, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging until you’re looking back at him with a sharp arch to your back that makes it just a bit hard to breathe. There’s a holding of intense eye contact between you and Logan leading up to and through when he finally comes, filling you with rope after rope of sticky hot cum into your womb with a growl. There’s the sound of skin splitting followed by metal ripping through metal and your hazy eyes catch sight of Logan’s claws buried in the bottom of the jet. That’ll be hard to explain to Charles.

Finally, finally, there’s a release of the painful tension and fire in your gut. You sigh and go boneless in Logan’s arms, letting him work through his release by himself as you try and catch your breath. Somehow you made it through the roughest mission of your life so far.

One blink and suddenly everything’s shifted. Instead of naked and stuffed full of Logan on the floor of the jet with a face covered in bodily fluids, you’re wearing a shirt that smells suspiciously like the Wolverine and your back is resting against a chest that’s starting to feel very familiar to you. A gentle hand is running soothingly through your hair, and someone is cleaning your face up. A split-second probe of the air around you reveals two minds- Ororo and Logan, which you were expecting. It still feels like you’re in the jet, but you’re in the air now. Must be on autopilot.

“Looks like someone’s awake.”

That’s Ororo’s voice. You let out an exhausted groan and attempt to look around, but it takes entirely too much energy. Ororo is seated in front of you, still wiping the mess from your face. “Didn’t know I ever went to sleep,” you croak and gratefully accept sips from the cool water bottle pressed to your lips by Logan from behind you.

“Wouldn’t call it sleeping, Baby Xavier,” Logan responds with a soft rumble, sounding more domestic and gentler than you’ve ever heard before. “More like passing out from exhaustion and dehydration from the chemical and three orgasms. Two from yours truly.”

You roll your eyes but Ororo shrugs. “Sorry, that’s exactly what happened. It took a lot longer for the chemical to burn through you than it did us. Charles thinks you took most of the dosage since you were holding the test tube when it shattered. Closest contact.”

Charles. Your face pales and you try to shoot upright, stopped by Logan’s arm draped across your waist. “He knows?!” You squeak, cheeks flooding a bright red and covering your face. Logan snorts. “Of course he knows. He already knew but we had to tell him what happened either way.”

“Still!” You groan in mortification and try to hide in Logan’s chest. “It’s mortifying.”

 You’re not sure how to act around your teammates now that this has all gone down. Both Ororo and Logan have gotten a taste of you and you them. How are you supposed to go back to just pining after Storm and lusting after hating Logan?

As if sensing your insecurities, Ororo hooks a finger under your chin to get you to look up into those soft brown eyes. There’s that signature soft smile. “Hey. If you want to move on from this and pretend nothing happened, that’s your choice."

“A fucking stupid one, but your choice,” Logan grumbles and Ororo swats his head. She scoffs and turns her eyes back to you. “We won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. If you tell us to forget it ever happened, we will,” she promises and you can feel the sincerity, from both her and Logan. If you told them both to drop it, they would.

“But,” Ororo adds on after a glance at Logan and moment of silent communication. “I do think I promised you my strap when we get home. If you still want to try and take it.” And who are you to turn that down?

[morpheusbaby3]

Imagine:

Reader x Morpheus are having tea together and enjoying each other's company. However, you can notice that sometimes his mind seems to go somewhere different, probably on his duties. You need to put something else on his mind.

Reader: are you jealous of my heart because its pumping inside of me and you aren't?

Morpheus: *blue screen* *error* *the mind goes to libidinous images/memories*