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.
Kurt with a worryingly submissive/passive reader....
⸙ Starring: Kurt Wagner x GN!Reader
⸙ Featuring: Scott Summers, Logan Howlett, Anna-Marie/Rogue
⸙ Summary: Headcanons for how Kurt acts towards a worryingly submissive/passive reader.
⸙ Warnings: inadvertent dismissal of opinions and feelings, compartmentalising, Kurt bringing reader out of their shell, slight fluff, reader is taller that Rogue (5'4)
⸙ Word Count: 400
⸙ Requester: @trans-pupboi
꧁ Read my rules and send in a request! ꧂
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⋆‧°𓏲ּ You always seemed to follow along with what everyone else wanted. It wasn't bad, you got along fine with whoever you were around and they were no arguments so you were happy, but Kurt saw it a little differently.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ He was very quiet, keeping to himself most days and trying not to get in anyone's way, but you seemed a little more….worrisome.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ He was always one to help when asked, but you practically served anyone who took advantage of your nature.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ Scott asked you to get him a beer one random day when he was too exhausted to get one himself and you did without question or protest. He noticed, and found you to be the perfect bartender.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ Rogue asked you to get something off a shelf she couldn't reach once and it became common practise even when the shelves where at her eye level.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ They were your friends and team mates so you weren't upset with them, but they didn't even seem to notice what they were doing.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ Logan always called you an abused stray cat, scurrying around the place like you were afraid anyone who showed you affection was just about ready to hit you with a box of hammers.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ And it got to the point where Kurt had to intervene, mildly.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ He saw the others bossing you around accidentally - except Scott - and he pulled you aside, just out of sight to ask if you were okay. When you responded with a simple "Yeah, I'm fine" he wasn't quite convinced.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ He knew he wouldn't be able to help you, or at least get a genuine answer out of you overnight, so for the next few months, he just kept on asking.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ "Do you like this kind of music?" - when everyone agreed to get tickets to a concert you clearly weren't interested in.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ "Do you want to get food from somewhere else?" - when you let slip a silent, momentary cringe at the restaurant name Guillermo's.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ "Are you sure you're fine with being called these names?" - when Scott and Logan made fun of you 'lightheartedly'.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ It was small, but it was the kind of care you needed, even if it took you a while to speak your mind around him. Kurt was happy to wait for you anyways.
day 11 of @/pinksplace & @/wildflowersandvibranium galentine's collab <3
cw | wife! reader
JAY GARRICK
You wake to a suspicious lack of husband by your side, the overly warm body of a speedster usually curled around you, nowhere to be found.
"Jay?" Your voice rasps, fingers curling in the sheets as you blindly search for him. Sitting up, your knees protest the movement, old joints aching as you eventually manage to stand.
Huffing, you pull the blanket around your shoulders, shuffling through your shared home, on the hunt for your wayward husband.
The front door creaks open, and you prepare yourself to chastise him for leaving without notifying you, only to fall silent at his lovestruck grin, softening when he presents you with the largest bouquet of flowers you've ever seen.
"What's this for?" You breathe, already melting.
"Can't I just do something nice for my lovely wife?" He hums, disappearing in a blink, only to reappear less than a second later with a vase, placing the flowers carefully on the kitchen bench.
Hands now free, he rests them gently on your hips, pulling you close. "You're just as beautiful as the day I met you."
"And you're still an incorrigible flirt." You lightly swat his chest, cheeks warming.
"You love it."
"I do, I love you, Mr Garrick." Your hands slid up his chest, arms locking around his neck.
"Not as much as I love you, Mrs Garrick."
HARVEY DENT
Flowers are usually prohibited in Arkham, but Ivy's not been a resident for quite some time, and the guards are incompetently lax. No wonder there's a breakout every other day.
Your presence is not unexpected; you've visited enough times that most people barely spare you a second glance, a significant oversight on their part. What if you did have nefarious intentions?
For now, though, you simply wish to see your husband, a carefully assorted bouquet in hand as you make your way to his cell. Another immense breach of safety protocols, but you're not going to report it, not when it means you get to see your husband properly, not through a perspex screen and a decades-old phone.
Harvey hates you seeing him like this, but he hates not being able to see you even more. Two sides of the same cursed coin.
The guard escorting you gives you a judgmental sneer as he opens the door, ushering you inside. You pay it no mind, nor will you mention it to Harvey.
His back's to you, prompting you to place the assortment of baby's breath, aloe, pink camellias and chamomile on the small table in the corner of the room, gently calling his name to announce your presence.
"You're... here?" He sounds surprised, reaching out with his unscarred hand before abruptly snatching it back.
"I'm here." You confirm, slowly taking his hands in yours before leading him over to the creaky mattress, laying him down on your chest as you simply enjoy his warmth.
"You shouldn't have come." He growls, before softer, "I'm glad you're here."
"I brought flowers, thought it might brighten things up a little." You offhandedly comment, threading your fingers through his hair.
"Just need you, doll." He murmurs, and you try to bite back the tears. So many people had asked you why you hadn't given up on your husband yet, but how could you, when moments like these proved he was still there?
That he still loved you just as you loved him?
SCOTT SUMMERS
"What are these?" Scott stares, somewhat bewildered, at the bouquet you'd all but thrust into his hands.
"They're flowers, Scott. I know you know what flowers are." You rolled your eyes playfully with a grin as he shot you an unimpressed look behind his sunglasses.
"Smartass. I mean, why'd you get these for me?"
"Why not? Can't I get my husband something pretty, show my appreciation?"
"No? It's just—" His brows furrow, cheeks flushing a little, "nobody's ever gotten me flowers before."
"That's a shame, you deserve nice gifts." You gently take the flowers, placing them aside, then pull him closer with a cheeky grin. "I'll just have to get you more."
His blush deepens even as he tries to appear unaffected, one of his hands clasping yours atop his chest, "if that's what you want to spend your money on."
"I always wanna spend my money on you, honey." Scott's ears burn as you giggle at how cute he's being. Looks like a weekly visit to the florist was in order for the foreseeable future, especially if it meant your husband would blush so prettily.
I saw you reblog nightcrawler and I got into searching for nightcrawler fics which lead to reading x men smut in general…..
Please indulge me 😭 My request is how the x men eat the 🐱 with Nightcrawler, Cyclops, Wolverine, Magneto, Gambit, Deadpool (I feel Deadpool is x Men adjacent lol)
Deadpool is definitely X-Man adjacent. Will include him for sure.
Pairing: Logan "Wolverine" Howlett, Scott "Cyclops" Summers, Remy "Gambit" LeBeau, Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner, Wade "Deadpool" Wilson, Erik "Magneto" Lehnsherr x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, face riding, tonguefucking, cunnilingus, overstimulation, being pinned down, clit stimulation, squirting, morning sex
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions
A/N: Took a little break from Tumblr to focus on my D&D stuff, but I'm back now.
Laps at your pussy like a man dying of thirst, There's no real techinque that he has, he wants all of you, any and every way he can get it, as much as he can get. His tough, strong hands dig into your hips, the veins bulging as he holds you down and makes you shake under his grip. Due to his superhuman stamina he backs off when your pussy and clit get too sensitive but still delivers an occasional teasing lick while you're resting.
He spends a long amount of time kissing his way down your body before he gets to where you want him to be. Never wants to get right to the main event, even if you've had a long time apart. Always has his eyes closed but you can tell when he's enjoying himself by how hard he closes his eyes and the tiny sparks of red that get a glimpse of. Gets a little pussydrunk if you don't push him away on time, even if his jaw hurts he'll keep going.
Wakes you up fully by eating you out, it's become something of a morning ritual for when you really don't want to get out of bed in the morning. This can go both ways if you want to suck him off in the morning and help him with his morning wood. He knows how to cook breakfast pretty well but honestly you're his favorite thing to eat in the morning. Especially when you come all over mouth from how much he tonguefucked you.
Eats you out while he's on his knees like you're the one who should be worshiped and prayed to. Judging by the way he kisses and licks your pussy, his forked tongue flicking and lapping at your sensitive clit he might as well think you're holy. He certainly does get you to call out to God a lot. Because he can't help it he jerks himself off with his tail, he should have better control, instead he gave into lust. and he will gladly do it again.
Talks dirty the whole time while he's eating you out, there's nothing that will get him to shut up. Each and every jolt of your hips serves as a compliment to him. He doesn't hold you down while eating you out, you can buck your hips freely, riding his face as fast and hard as you want. Don't worry if you clamp your thighs around his head, you can't kill him and if you did he would be glad to die and wake up with his face against your cunt.
Pulls you on top of him and pushes his tongue as deep into your pussy as it can go. He chuckles when you hiss in pleasure when his lips bump against your clit, you want his attention there but he is the one in control here. If you try to wrestle control from him he will push you on your back, your legs now over his shoulders and his face buried in your sopping pussy. Give him any more attitude and he will bring out the handcuffs.
charles xavier x fem!mutant!reader pre first class era
you were the first person to ever keep charles out of someone's mind. he instantly became enamored.
word count: 1k | warnings: none
It had almost become a hobby of sorts for Charles to peer into others' minds, just briefly in passing. He liked to know their thoughts. Sometimes it was funny, sometimes sad, and other times a little disturbing, but Charles tried to forget about those times.
One of these days, his little trick would probably get him into all sorts of trouble. Until then, it was worth every second.
One of Charles' favorite ways to do this was going to bars and reading the minds of tipsy and drunk people. Those were the most fun. There was absolutely no filter on anyone, making it easy and enjoyable for him to indulge a little bit. Truly, it was a harmless hobby.
Charles' eyes scanned over the crowd of people as he sat at the bar. His eyes scanned in search for the perfect person to read. He wanted something interesting, new, exciting. The best people to read were the drunk ones, but also the worst. It could get repetitive, but this time, Charles was determined to find someone who stood out, someone who he could dig a little deeper into.
A young woman sat at one of the booths across the room. She was alone, and my, rather pretty if Charles had a say. She just sat at the booth, sipping on her drink without a care in the world. Either she had a story or was insanely depressed. Charles hoped it wasn't the latter. Plus, what was life without risk? She was perfect.
Fingers against his temple, Charles slowly began to ease into her mind, so soft and slow that she wouldn't be able to notice a thing.
However, you did.
In fact, you knew something was up with the man before he'd even began to attempt to enter your mind. You could sense strong waves of something from the man. You'd kept him in the corner of your eye before he even set his sights on you. Determination, calculated, and dead set on you. Yeah, he was up to something.
For a moment, you thought maybe he was some creep devising a wicked plan to kidnap you or something. I mean, come on, a girl sitting alone in a bar surrounded by drunk people. But then, you felt his intentions. A mutant, no doubt, or maybe just a really good magician. Then, you saw him make a move, two fingers to his temple. Ah, mutant for sure. Must be some way to hone his powers. So, you closed yourself off entirely.
It was almost like you could feel his mind trying to invade your own. It felt like a stick poking mud. You didn't dare cause attention, so you sat there in great focus to keep him out. He was much stronger than you anticipated, making it a real challenge. Challenge was new. Not many mutants could pin you in a crowd, even alone. This man being able to spot you and attempt to use his own powers on you was unusual, but somehow, you could sense he meant no harm.
Charles' brows furrowed when he got nothing. Absolutely nothing, nada, zip. That couldn't be possible. He never failed. How could he have not sensed a single thing off of you?
Then, you made the mistake of darting your eyes to him. It was just a moment, a fraction of a second, but with how focused he was on you, he'd caught it.
He moved like an arrow speeding through the air at its target. He'd gotten up so fast from his seat that it nearly startled you. Before you could even think of getting up, he was sat across from you.
"Who are you?" Charles asked quickly.
"I think it's very rude to intrude in other people's minds," you replied, folding your arms over your chest. "Very invasive of you."
"You're a mutant," commented Charles as he eyed you.
A scoff left your mouth, "Rude thing to call a person."
"That's not what I--"
"I'm messing with you," you chuckled. "Yeah, I am. And so are you. Do you find some sick enjoyment learning everyone's deepest, darkest secrets?"
Charles let out a chuckle of his own, shaking his head while a hand ran through his hair. "I just merely read their active thoughts. I do nothing with it."
"Sure," you nodded, unconvinced. "What's your name?"
"I believe I asked you first at the beginning of this conversation." Charles replied, a small victorious smile on his face knowing he'd piqued your interest. You gave him your name, and he gave you his. Xavier, Charles. "How did you keep me out of your head?"
You shrugged, "I could sense you were going to do it before you even did it." His face didn't change, but you still added, "Don't feel so bummed. I anticipated it all before you even thought anything."
"You’re not a mind reader," Charles examined, "but you're certainly something similar."
"I can feel your emotions, anticipate your next moves." you answered. "Not the coolest thing, but it certainly makes me feel safer in bars where strange men try to read my mind."
Sheepishly, Charles let out a huff of air. "Sorry. I didn't intend to come off.. well, creepy."
"I don't think you're creepy anymore," you replied. "Plus, I've never met someone with mutations so similar to mine. I mean, we both sort of use our minds. That's something."
Charles nodded, "It is. I've never met anyone so unique yet similar to me. Tell me, when did you develop your mutation?"
"When I was maybe six or seven. From what I've learned, I guess that was a bit young. Gave me time to hone my skills." It really did take a while to get things under control. Feeling everyone's emotions within fifty feet was a lot to take in, especially when that range grew.
"Can I buy you another drink?" Charles asked suddenly. He was flirting, you could feel it. "And maybe, while we're exchanging things, you could drop those mental walls?"
You laughed, "And let you read my mind? Charles, I have a feeling you've never experienced good old heart to heart with another person. My gift to you is discovering how to learn without reading people's minds."
"So, a yes to that drink?" Charles smiled.
"A yes to that drink," you confirmed. "Get one for yourself. I think we're just beginning our night."
A/N: I like writing angsty stuff and this movie provided me with the best possible scenarios <3 hehehe I love wolverine
Warnings: Cussing, mentions of blood
Marvel MASTERLIST Link here
SPOILERS BELOW
-
It wasn’t an ideal love story that brought you back to Logan.
Being a mutant with incredible healing abilities and a broken heart made it so easy for Stryker to capture you. Your Wolverine had been the one to rescue you from the clutches of Stryker and the horrible fate that loomed over your head. All the days of experiments and cold rooms where you’d be injected with who knows what, it all lead to him.
But you always had to remind yourself that Logan had gotten you out, made you a X-Men, but found the brutal truth of how dangerous it was to be loved by you.
You loved deeply and endlessly, like a void waiting for eternity to be loved and to love. Logan was exactly what your heart desired for years.
Someone who could never die, never leave you.
Fighting alongside each other became a beautiful symphony. And God protect anyone who caused you harm, because Logan would only see red and slice them to pieces. It was a miracle none of the X-men had been torn to shreds, but Scott always came close.
The team would always joke about your relationship, saying how could an innocent soul be in love with such a brute like Wolverine.
But Logan knew the only way he could breathe was to be with you, to hold you, to kiss and love you.
He would always find his way to you no matter the circumstance.
Beast was holding you in the infirmary because he wanted to run tests? Logan was there.
Storm and Jean wanted to have a girls night? Logan was sitting outside the room in case anything happened.
Scott was training you in hand to hand combat? Logan was definitely there.
Your world consisted of him and him only.
And maybe that is why it hurt so much when he let your entire team die, because you had not made them your whole world.
You had been away on a mission by yourself when you received the news of their passing. You returned to a bloodied home, no sign of Wolverine to be found.
Life began to blur after what happened. You had to go into hiding, because people blamed you for what happened, too. And there was no one there to stop you from spiraling into a flurry of self hatred.
Hatred for what you had become. A love sick puppy so consumed with Logan only. Maybe if you had been there, maybe if you hadn’t put so much trust in him, maybe if you could have taken the hits for your team.
And the thought that stuck with you the most, if you had been there, screaming for help - would Logan had only saved you and left the rest to die?
Because the love you shared was slowly becoming so obvious to you that it was not pure or natural, but rather so simple it would have made you and Logan public enemy number one.
But you supposed that had already happened, too.
Your mutant abilities were the only thing you had left, so you consumed yourself in underground work. Becoming exactly what the X-men had fought against.
Shedding your uniform, you had to separate yourself from the X-men because people recognized you too easily. It was hard to find any work where people wanted a tainted mutant.
You tried your hardest to not let every moment be consumed by the thought of Logan. He had never reached out to you after the event, despite the grief between you so overwhelmingly strong. He couldn’t face you and love someone who would have stepped through hell and back for him.
He felt as if he didn’t deserve it.
So time continued to pass as the bond between the two of you was severed so deeply that it was suffocating to be apart.
But it wasn’t until Deadpool showed up to your apartment that you were finally addressing your past.
“Leave, now. I’m not hearing any of your bullshit.” You tried to close your door but he stopped it.
“Please, c’mon. I need you! Wolverine needs you!”
You tensed at the mere mention of him. “If he needed me so desperately, it is far too late for him to come back.”
“But you’re his one and only, for fuck’s sake! Every variant I’ve met of him has had a you stalking around like a lap dog. You know how many of you’s have beaten the shit out of me?” He rambled on, and you rolled your eyes.
“I don’t care to understand what you’re saying, so goodbye, Wade!”
Deadpool sighed before kicking the door in and stabbing you through the chest with one of his blades. You stared at him in shock and couldn’t register anything as he flung you over his shoulder into an orange portal.
You landed on a hard ground that pushed the blade out of you. “Wade, you’re a dead man.”
He stepped through the portal and leaned over your body. “Sorry about that, but I can’t die so you’re stuck with not only me, but Wolverine!”
Deadpool giggled and ran off, making sure to rip the blade out of your stomach. You winced but felt your regeneration cells working to stitch you back together.
Slowly sitting up, you spat out blood.
“I tried to tell him not to bring you into this.”
You froze at the voice you fought to forget, willing calm into your fast beating heart.
Sitting up fully only made your legs wobble and your head spin. But you had to look up into the eyes of the man you still loved.
Logan looked different, healthier and happier. It only made you feel sick.
“I’ve been busy.” He said it so casually that it made you want to slap his chest for the lack of greeting. “Wade gave me a second chance. I helped save his world.”
“You haven’t seen me in years and you choose to brag?” You scoffed, removing your shirt to assess the damage Wade had done to your shirt.
Logan sucked in a breath as he took in your battle worn scars. Despite your healing factor, you still kept every scar from every wound you had endured.
He remembered the last time he saw you, you only adorned a few on your chest and stomach.
Now it was littered with them.
“You’ve been busy too, I gather?” Logan said with a hint of sarcasm.
You glared at him. “Why am I here?”
“Wade thought that I needed you.” He admitted it with such ease, like he knew it to be true in his heart.
“And? Do you need me?”
He hesitated before answering. “I’ve always needed you… and I think that’s why I let myself go for so many years. Because I knew that no matter what I did or said to you, you would never forgive me. I would always be the one who let our team die… let you go.”
“Well you’re right, because I never would forgive you. Not after abandoning all of us,” you choked out, the tears beginning to creep into the corners of your eyes. “I loved you fiercely, Logan. All it would have taken was one call during those first few days and I would have been there for you. We could’ve been healing together. But you chose this life of despair for both of us, Logan.”
“I know.” He said, his own eyes watering.
“I despise you.” You said, but your heart was breaking, letting out the true feelings. It was bleeding for him and for him only.
Logan stepped closer and you did not stop him.
“I want nothing to do with you.” You said, your voice cracking.
“I understand.” He said, five feet away from you now.
“I hate you.” You began to weep, the blood in your heart revealing what you wanted truly.
“I don’t blame you.” Logan closed the gap between the two of you, holding you close to his chest. You cried into his shoulder, holding on for dear life. “I’m never leaving you again.”
All you could muster was a small nod, your tears staining his shirt. His own were dripping onto the top of your head.
And in the empty apartment, you and Logan stood, holding onto each other.
Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something
a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter
Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)
“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott.
“What have I told you about scaring me?”
He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”
You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair.
“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.
You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you.
“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”
You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand.
You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one.
Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment.
The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities.
More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate.
It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him.
It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him.
Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go.
Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner.
You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares.
Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible.
“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”
You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod.
“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table.
He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”
You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him.
“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”
You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day.
He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you.
You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant.
You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too.
You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head.
You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him.
His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion.
You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep.
He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are.
You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him.
“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”
You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that.
But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them.
Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes.
You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school.
“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts.
The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled.
He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him.
Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him.
“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him.
His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”
She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”
Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission.
She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once.
“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others.
You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning.
Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away.
“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her.
“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way.
She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”
“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?
She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”
“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it.
She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes.
She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back.
His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.
She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room.
Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them.
He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people.
He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away.
He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off.
You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red.
“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.”
“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.
Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him.
Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you.
He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again.
You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief.
“Jean told me.”
Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise.
He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view.
“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”
You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is.
“Thought what?”
You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”
“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it.
“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”
“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone.
“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”
Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt.
“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”
You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong.
“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you.
His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again.
He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you.
To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often.
Kurt (Wagner) would have a mommy kink with a fem reader
'Nuff said... Xoxo... Mwa.
YES HE WOULD!!!
Kurt Wagner absolutely calls you mommy. He’s Roman Catholic, so naturally, he’s a switch. I think his ultimate goal is to have mind blowing sex, no matter the situation. Dom? Sub? Switch? Kurt’s there. And you know damn well that man is using his tail to please you and himself.
While I think that Kurt is the kind of man who talks you through it, I also think he LOVES to be talked through it as well. Add a note of pity? Get a little condescending? Oh he’s falling apart for you.
“A-ah-please-” Kurt’s arching in your grip, head falling against your shoulder as his hips flex. Sweat dances along his hairline, a darkened blue dusting his sculpted cheeks.
“Please what?” Your voice is a low purr, lips brushing along the length of his ear before your tongue is dragging along the sensitive skin. He cries out again, instinctively turning into you so that his nose can press against your chin.
“P-please,” His voice breaks, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh as he squirms in your embrace. “Make me cum, mommy.”
The grin that splits your cheeks is damn sinful, stomach tightening at the way he whimpers when your grip tightens around his cock. The tip is leaking, slick with both of your combined spit and his precum, fist wet as it slides and twists around his sensitive cock, and fuck it isn’t helping that the tip of his tail is running over the leaking slit of his cock.
Kurt’s found himself tucked between your legs, his back against your chest as you lean against the headboard of your bed. You’ve got your arms around him, his head tucked against the crook of your shoulder while you tease him, work him up to a mean orgasm. You’ve been edging him for the better part of 30 minutes now, peering over his shoulder to watch yourself work him over, let your gaze roam freely over his muscled body, linger on the way his thighs flex, how his abs tense under your careful ministrations, watch his chest heave as he struggles to catch his breath. The position you’re in allows you to tug on his cock with ease and it’s driving Kurt insane. He’s completely at your mercy like this, forced to watch your smaller hand pump his dick for him until he’s literally whining into your neck, the sensitive, pointed end of his tail sliding over his wet slit while he begs you for something, anything.
“Tell me how good it feels baby,” You coo and Kurt whimpers at the nickname, thick fingers pressing blue bruises into the sensitive skin of your thighs. He’s never said it out loud, but you know he loves seeing your skin blue because of him, like you share something even deeper, more primal when you’re left like that.
He cries out when you reward him with a particularly tight tug and you watch with rapt attention with the tip of his tail slips into the weeping slit of his cock for a brief moment.
“Fuck, it feels-” He swallows loudly, jaw working as he lets his canines graze your throat. “So good. Feel s’good, fuck mommy feels so good-”
He’s babbling now and you’re grinning, fist tightening into something mean as you pick up the pace, fingers slipping over the sensitive head of his cock, your wrist shifting as you twist your hand ever so slightly as you tug. Kurt’s hips are pushing up into your hand now while he pants in your embrace, whimpering softly. He’s close, you know him well enough by now to tell when he’s getting close to cumming. He’s a glutton for punishment but you’d already edged and denied him three times now and he really had been such a good boy for you all night. He’d even begged when he’d wanted to kiss you.
“You’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” You murmured, lips pressed against his ear. “Hm? Go ahead and answer me baby.”
“I am, I am mommy I-” He grunts, hips canting upwards as he begins to fuck his cock into your hand. “I’m a good boy for you, I am-”
“Look at how pretty you look for mommy,” Your voice is low, soothing before you’re lapping at the sweat gathered on his temple. Kurt arches into your when your tongue slides over his skin, the wet, hot heat of it pulling a low groan from him as he struggles not to spill over into your hand. Not until you tell him to, not until you give him permission.
He knows the rules.
He likes to keep his girl happy. Not that he’s worked up the courage to officially claim you yet. Though nobody would deny it. The walls weren’t too sound proof in the mansion, though given the rate at which everyone was fucking each other: they should have been.
“Go ahead Kurt,” Your voice is low as you press your lips against his ear. “Talk to mommy about how pretty you look.”
“Ah fuck,” Kurt pants, head falling back against your shoulder for a moment while he tried, desperately, to collect himself. The wet, slow schlick schlick schlick of your fist dragging over his sensitive cock was making it damn near impossible for him to not cum all over you. You watched his gaze snap down to your hand, his brows drawn together as his mouth fell open. He looked entirely spent, thighs quivering as he struggled oh so desperately to hold on just a little longer-
“Be a good boy and cum for me baby,” It was a demand, your other hand slipping around him to tangle itself in his hair and force his head forward so that he had nowhere to look but his overstimulated cock. “Cum all over yourself for mommy.”
It took two more strokes before Kurt was loudly crying out, your name a needy whine as his hips lost their rhythm and he was cumming in thick ropes across your hand and his stomach and chest and fuck did he look good.
“That’s it baby,” You murmured against his ear, pride swelling in your chest at the way he shook in your embrace, tail curling itself tightly around your calf as he struggled to breathe through his intense orgasm. Your hand began to slow, fingers pushing his damp blue locks back from his forehead as you felt him relax back into your chest. “Breathe for me baby, breathe.”
Kurt was still quivering against you, hips twitching and small whines tearing free as your palm smoothed over his sensitive dick, his breathing heavy as his hands continued to grip your thighs.
“Fraulein?” It was a breathy, low whisper, one that made your stomach tighten. You hummed in response, grinning when you kissed his neck and he nearly cried out. “I don’t think anyone has made me feel as good as you do.”
You laughed lightly, arms tightening around him for a moment as you pulled him closer to you, ignoring the warm, wet mess on his torso. “Yeah?”
He nodded, still trying to catch his breath as his head dropped back against your shoulder. “Uh huh.”
You stayed like that for a few more moments before Kurt was suddenly shifting in your embrace, leaning forward and moving away from you. Your heart picked up its pace in your chest, thighs tightening at the prospect of what would come next. Sex with Kurt was like clockwork and you knew what was happening; he needed to please you now. There would be no denying or escaping it, Kurt would hold you down if you tried to insist that tonight would be all about him. He’d done it before, denying you the right to make it about him and only him, acting like it was some abhorrent, sinful act that he not make you cum, like it was his god given right to please you. You’d learned the hard way that Kurt was a giver, and he’d held you down and eaten you out too many times now to leave any room for doubt.
He turned to face you, balancing himself on his knees as he reached forward to smooth his hands over your thighs and up your hips.
“Kurt,” It was a low warning, breathless. “You don’t have to do this, why don’t you just let me take care of you-”
He frowned like you’d offended him before he was pulling you away from the headboard and further up the bed so that your back was against the pillows, legs splayed as he carefully rested his hands against your thighs and pushed them apart.
“Why would you deny me such a luxury?” His voice was low, muffled as he began to kiss his way up your inner thigh, shifting so he could settle between them. The slick that had gathered between your legs was undeniable and you shivered when his tongue slid across your skin, canines pressing against you. He leaned forward to gently run his nose through your folds, bumping against your clit as you cried out, arching. Kurt only grinned up at you before he was hooking his muscled arms under your thighs and yanking you towards him, eyes boring into your own as he began to eat you out.
