Just a funny sex thought with whoever your fave may be:
You had to sneeze.
You REALLY had to sneeze.
His hips pistoned in and out of you, head buried in the crook of your neck. Slightly higher pitches moans came out of his mouth as his hands tighten on your hips.
You put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him up to meet your eyes and you voice your concern. He props himself on his forearms and stills his hips flush against yours.
But he was close to cumming, reeeeeeally close.
If he had some extensive knowledge of human anatomy, he would have known that your muscles SQUEEZE when you sneeze, including the muscles that was currently stretch around his cock. His mind was clouded with arousal, any other thought other than YOU out of the question.
You turn your head to the side and let loose, 3 sneezes in a row coming out. When you do so, your hole tightens VERY SNUG around him, tight enough to push him out if his wide, strong hips weren't hard against yours.
He collapses on top of you, moaning loudly as the 3 consecutive dick-choking sneezes push him over the edge. His hips move without thought, pushing his cum deep inside you before stilling again.
The room is silent for a few moment aside from his heavy breathing when you ask, "Did you really just cum?"
He props himself up again, eyes wide with a shocked look on his face. You can't help but giggle loudly, a wide smile on your face as you both come to the realization. You hear a few deep chuckles before he groans and pulls out, quick to fill you with his fingers ready to return the favor.
— requested by pookie bear @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger
froggi yaps -> these have been kicking my ass for dayssss i'm so happy to finally have finished them :,) wade & logan were kind of hard to do since i've already done this prompt w them but still wanted them to be included. enjoy!
Logan Howlett:
Logan likes to pretend like he isn’t the jealous type, despite him being the most possessive man alive. You’re his, and only his, and he’ll make damn well sure everyone knows it. His scent is definitely all over you.
If anyone is getting a little too close to you for his liking—making you laugh too much, maybe getting a little touchy—Logan is on his feet in an instant, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist.
Maybe gets a little too handsy, hands travelling lower to cup your butt, canines grazing the side of your neck. He won’t say anything, he’ll just loom there so incredibly ominously until whoever was with you gets the message and leaves.
“Logan,” you warn.
He just grunts, “you’re mine, you know that?”
And you sigh, suddenly weak in the knees, and nod along to his words. He keeps you extra close afterwards, usually sitting you in his lap and looking sideways at anyone who so much as glances your way.
Wade Wilson:
Wade is absolutely the jealous type but it takes a lot to actually get him going, and when he does, he hides his insecurity behind humour and substances. Still, it gets the best of him sometimes and he just can’t help it.
If someone’s flirting with you, he’s inserting himself into the situation immediately. He’ll sidle up next to you, prop an arm on your shoulder and grin at whoever you’re talking to.
“Excuse us for a moment.”
He won’t even give you a chance before he’s pulling you in for a bruising kiss, tongue swiping along the backs of your teeth. His hands roam your sides, maybe cheekily pinching your butt.
You pull away gasping, hands on his chest. “Wade!”
“What?” He grins goofily, “I couldn’t help it, you look so fuckable.”
Kurt Wagner:
Kurt’s not really the jealous type, and when he is jealous, he just gets sad. He’ll watch someone else hit on you and wonder if he’s enough, if you would prefer someone less blue.
He’ll go quiet for a while, maybe get a little distant while he thinks it over. He does his best to reassure himself, remind himself that you love him and you don’t want anyone else, but it only gets him so far.
Finally, he’ll cave and come to you, dropping to his knees and pressing his face into your stomach. You rest a hand on the back of his head, tilting yours to the side, “Kurt, baby, is everything alright?”
He sighs, words muffled by the fabric of your shirt. His words all come out in one big jumble, each one mumbled and bleeding into the next. Still, you get the gist of it: he’s feeling insecure, and he wants to know if you’d be happier with someone else.
You blink, stunned. “Of course not,” you frown.
“Really?” He pulls away, looking up at you with wide eyes.
“Yes, really.” You reach for his hands, helping him to his feet, “c’mere, silly.”
And Kurt sighs, letting you pull him in for a kiss.
Scott Summers:
Scott either gets really quiet or really arrogant when he’s jealous.
He’s analyzing the situation, watching you talk with a friend. He’s focused on the way they get a little too close, the subtle contact they make on your arm, the way your smile changes ever so slightly.
When he can’t take it anymore, he’s sidling up to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, doll.”
He’ll plant a sloppy kiss to your lips, lingering just a little too long until whoever’s talking to you gets the message. If he’s feeling extra devious, he’s making a snide comment.
You smack his bicep once they’re out of earshot. “Really?”
“What?” He smiles, feigning innocence, “I just missed you.”
Remy LeBeau:
Remy is so clingy when he’s in love with you so it’s only natural he’d be jealous too. But not the angry jealous type, no, Remy gets sad when he’s jealous.
Someone comes up to flirt with you while you’re at the bar and he’s sitting in the corner pouting, nursing his drink and watching. Someone calls you cute right in front of him and he’s not letting it go for the rest of the day.
“Oh that’s cute of you.” “Mhm, yeah, très mignon.”
However, if someone gets handsy with you, Remy’s on his feet in an instant, cards in hand. Is it too far? Maybe, but he doesn’t care.
“This guy bothering you, amour?”
You take a step back into Remy, letting him wrap an arm around you. “Yes,” you say quietly.
That’s all he needs to hear before he’s sizing him up and sending him on the way, hand clenched around the desk of cards in his palm.
Warren Worthington III:
Warren’s jealousy is a lot more low key, but it’s definitely there. He shrugs it off and pretends like he doesn’t care but inside, he’s in shambles. The minute someone else tries to flirt with you, he’s at your side, wrapping an arm around you and leaning his head on your shoulder.
He smiles but there’s no humour behind it as he stares down whoever’s coming onto you.
Sometimes, if he’s been drinking a little or you’re in a safe space for mutants, he’ll even go as far as to wrap his wings around you, creating a shield between you and the other person. You roll your eyes, turning to face him in the trap of wings he’s created for you.
“Baby?”
“Hm?” His jaw is clenched but his eyes are soft when they find yours.
“Can you let me go?”
He tilts his head down, wings ushering you closer to him for a slow and soft kiss. “No.”
Piotr Rasputin:
He’s not really a jealous person to begin with. He knows you’re his and he trusts you enough to believe you’d never do anything behind your back. The rare times he does get jealous is when someone is doing something for you that he could do.
Someone else holds the door? His brows are knitting together. Someone lifts something heavy for you? He’s frowning for the next hour and a half. He’s your partner, he should be the one doing all that for you. He’ll spend the next few hours trying to show off, flexing his muscles and doing everything for you.
He gets a little sad when he’s jealous, too. Is he not enough for you, would you rather be with someone like that? As secure as he likes to think he is, that all melts away in the face of jealousy.
Finally, he’ll come to you, tail between his legs. “Do I make you feel loved?”
You blink, looking up from your book. “Of course you do.”
“Really?”
You dogear the page altogether, putting it down to look at him properly. His lips are pursed in a frown, eyes big and wide with emotions. You rise to your feet, placing your hands on either bicep.
“What’s this about, Petey?”
He sighs and admits to his jealousy, head hung low in shame. It’s only when you cup his cheek and force him to look at you, planting a soft kiss to his lips, that he starts to feel like himself again.
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful weekend /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
Characters : frank castle, matt murdock, peter parker, kurt wagner, wade wilson, eric brooks, scott summers, remy lebeau, logan howlett, johnny storm
You wake up slowly, the first thing you register being warmth. It was solid, steady, protective.
Frank is still asleep beside you.
The room is quiet in that early-morning way, sunlight barely slipping through the blinds and casting soft lines across his bare shoulders. One of his arms is wrapped around your waist like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. His grip isn’t tight, just… certain.
You shift slightly, testing the space, and his arm tightens immediately. Instinct.
“Don’t go,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, barely conscious.
You smile to yourself.
Last night lingers in the air, not in details, but in feelings. The closeness. The way he looked at you like you were something rare. The way he stayed, instead of pulling away like he usually does.
You trace a finger over the scars on his chest, careful, reverent. He stirs again, eyes fluttering open. For a moment he looks disoriented—then he sees you.
And everything softens ever so slightly.
“Hey,” he says quietly, thumb brushing your hip. “You okay?”
You nod. “Yeah. I am.”
He studies your face like he’s committing it to memory, jaw tense, like he’s bracing for you to regret staying. When you don’t move away, when you lean in instead, he exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he admits.
You kiss his shoulder. “I wanted to wake up with you.”
That’s what gets him.
Frank pulls you closer, forehead resting against yours. No armor. No walls. Just a man who stayed the night and woke up to someone choosing him in the morning.
He presses a gentle kiss to your hair.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Me too.”
You wake up tangled in warmth, limbs lazy, sheets a mess that tells a story neither of you are pretending didn’t happen.
Remy’s half on top of you, one leg hooked over yours like he claimed you in his sleep and never let go. His hair is a disaster, eyes still closed, lips curved like he’s already amused by something.
You shift just enough to get comfortable.
He hums immediately.
“Mmm… careful, chère. Dat kinda movement’s dangerous.”
You snort and grumble a grouchy, “You’re the one crushing me.”
One eye opens, cherry red on black, bright with mischief.
“Crushing?” he repeats, offended. “Non. Dis is cuddlin’. Very affectionate.”
“Your knee is practically a weapon.”
He grins wider and adjusts — somehow making it worse on purpose, pressing intentionally against the inside of your thigh.
“Funny. Didn’t hear you complainin’ bout my knee between your legs last night.”
You swat his chest, but he catches your wrist easily, presses a kiss to your knuckles instead. The teasing fades just a notch, replaced by something softer.
“You still here,” he says quietly, thumb brushing your palm.
“Still here,” you confirm.
That earns you a slow, satisfied smile. He leans down, kisses you properly this time — unrushed, warm, smiling into it like he’s got all the time in the world. His hand traces familiar paths, unhurried, like he’s savoring the morning as much as you.
“You know,” you murmur, “most people make coffee when they wake up.”
Remy laughs low in his throat.
“Chère,” he says, voice dropping, “I got somethin’ sweeter in mind.”
He slides down under the blankets, eyes never leaving yours. There’s a crooked smile on his lips now. Pure Remy. But his gaze is soft, reverent, like this isn’t a game so much as a promise. He settles between your thighs, spreading you gently as his breath ghosts warm and slow, hitting your bare cunt, making you gulp in anticipation.
— and he looks up at you like he’s exactly where he belongs. The softness of that crooked grin sending shivers through your body.
“Bon matin,” he murmurs.
Morning comes quietly.
You’re the first to wake, tucked against Matt’s side, his arm slung loose but possessive around your waist. The city hums faintly outside, distant traffic and early footsteps filtered through the cracked window. His breathing is steady, warm against your shoulder.
You shift just a little.
“Mm,” he hums immediately. “If you’re trying to sneak away, you’re terrible at it.”
You smile. “You were asleep.”
“I was resting my eyes,” he says lightly. “Big difference.”
You roll onto your elbow, looking down at him. His head is turned toward you, looking just over your shoulder, lips curved in that knowing little smile that always makes you feel like you’ve already lost.
“You know,” you say casually, “I expected more stamina from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”
One brow lifts. Intrigue. “Oh?”
“Tapping out after four rounds?” you continue, thoughtful, “Kind of pathetic.”
He hears the lie immediately, hears the amusement threading through your pulse, the way your body gives you away even when your mouth doesn’t.
And he grins like you just handed him a winning lottery ticket.
“Four,” he repeats, savoring it. “That’s tapping out now?”
You shrug, trying to hide your smile so that he wouldn't be able to hear it in your voice,“I had higher expectations.”
He lets out a soft hum, deep in his chest, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
“Funny,” he says, voice warm, teasing. “Because your heart says you were very… satisfied.”
“Your hearing is overrated.” you scoffed, tugging his earlobe for emphasis, making him chuckle.
“Mm. Maybe.” He tilts his head, “But you’re smiling.”
Before you can fire back, his hands are on you — confident, gentle — sliding up your bare thighs as he pulls you easily on top of him. You barely have time to register the movement before you’re straddling his hips, his touch grounding, familiar.
His hands settle at your waist, thumbs brushing slow, deliberate arcs that make it very hard to remember your argument.
Matt smiles up at you — innocent, almost angelic, like he isn’t absolutely enjoying this.
“Well,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t want you walkin’ away disappointed.”
That hum again, low and pleased.
“Go on,” he adds, brown eyes somehow finding yours as they scrunch cutely with amusement, “Prove your point.”
Your cup his cheeks and your press your lips to his for the sole purpose that he would be able to feel your smile," You asked for it, counsellor."
You wake up warm, pleasantly sore, wrapped in blue limbs and silk-soft sheets that smell faintly like incense and ozone.
Kurt is curled around you protectively, one arm tucked beneath your neck, the other resting light at your waist like he’s afraid to hold too tight. His face is peaceful in sleep, lashes dark against his skin, lips parted just enough to look tempting.
And then there’s his tail.
It’s draped lazily over your thigh — except not lazily at all. The tip twitches the moment you shift, curling, tightening, giving him away long before his eyes open.
“Kurt.” you murmur.
His eyes snap open immediately.
“Guten Morgen, Liebes,” he says, voice gentle, careful. Too careful.
You tilt your head, “You look… composed.”
He nods solemnly. “I am being very good.”
The tail flicks.
You bite back a smile. “Your tail disagrees.”
He freezes.
Slowly, he glances down. The traitorous appendage tightens around your thigh like it’s trying to make a point of its own. His ears flush a darker blue.
“…It has a mind of its own,” he says weakly.
“Uh-huh.” You stretch deliberately, enjoying the way his breath catches despite his best efforts. “You’re staring.”
“I am not,” he protests.
The tail tightens again.
He exhales, resigned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Forgive me. It is just-” He gestures vaguely, “You look very… happy.”
“Happy?”
He swallows. “Deliciously… content.”
You laugh softly, reaching out to trace the fuzzy edge of his ear. “Well... you were pretty damn good last night.”
That makes him smile — soft, shy, pleased in that uniquely Kurt way. “I tried to be restrained this morning,” he admits, “Out of respect.”
His tail betrays him by sliding higher.
You raise a brow and snort,“You’re doing a terrible job.”
He laughs quietly, giving up, pressing his forehead to yours. “Ja,” he murmurs. “I fear my self-control is… limited.”
The tail curls possessively around your waist now, and Kurt sighs like a man who has accepted his fate. His golden eyes warm, affectionate, absolutely undone by you.
“But,” he adds softly, smiling, “I regret nothing.”
Morning light cuts through the blinds in thin, pale stripes. You wake up first, tucked against a solid wall of warmth that is very much Eric Brooks pretending he isn’t awake.
His arm is heavy across your waist. Protective. Familiar.
You shift and feel him tense instantly.
“You’re awake,” you say softly.
A pause. Then a low sigh.
“…Yeah.”
You turn slightly, catching sight of the faint mark at your shoulder in the mirror across the room. Two small impressions, already fading. You touch it without thinking.
Eric notices immediately.
His jaw tightens. “ fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, quiet but firm. “I didn’t mean to—”
You roll toward him before he can spiral, smiling. “Hey. You stopped.”
He frowns grouchily, “Still shouldn’t have happened.”
“You’re half-vampire,” you point out gently, “And you were hungry.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
You reach up, thumb brushing along his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “It kind of is. And you showed a lot of control.”
That does it.
He snorts softly, shaking his head, clearly uncomfortable with praise. “You’re givin’ me too much credit.”
But you hear it — the tiny hitch in his breathing. Feel it in the way his grip tightens just a little, like the words landed somewhere deep.
You grin. “C’mon. Most people would’ve left more than a mark.”
He leans down abruptly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Right over the bite like he’s trying to erase the compliment before it sinks in. Then another, softer one. Then one to your jaw.
“You talk too damn much,” he mutters.
“And you hate being appreciated,” you shoot back.
A corner of his mouth lifts despite himself.
He pulls you closer, forehead resting against your shoulder, voice low but warm. “You scared?”
You shake your head, “Not even a little.”
That makes him pause. Then he exhales slowly, tension easing, and brushes his thumb across your waist with surprising gentleness.
“…Good,” he murmurs.
You smile, completely content, while Eric Brooks pretends he isn’t glowing inside over being trusted.
You wake up to exactly zero peace.
“Mornin’, beautiful~ wow, okay, still unfairly hot. Did I ever tell you how talented you are with your mouth?”
His mouth is everywhere. Your cheek. Your jaw. Your temple. Each kiss punctuated with commentary delivered at machine-gun speed.
“—seriously, Olympic-level effort last night, ten outta ten, would absolutely risk my life again—”
“Wade,” you mumble, trying to surface from sleep.
“And the confidence? The enthusiasm? The way you—”
You pinch his nipple.
Hard.
“YOW—!” He jerks back, eyes wide, then immediately breaks into a grin," Oh no. Oh wow. File that under unexpectedly into that.”
You roll your eyes. “Please shut up.”
“Can’t. Won’t. I am physically incapable of not praising you for-”
You cut him off by leaning in, pressing a quick kiss to his scarred cheek, softer than all the others.
“Wade,” you say sincerely, “you were really sweet last night. And you make me feel… safe. Wanted.”
Silence.
Actual, honest-to-god silence.
His grin falters. Not gone, just stunned. His eyes soften in a way that makes your chest ache. For half a second, he looks like he doesn’t know what to do with something that genuine.
Then-
You blink, and suddenly he’s above you.
Pinned.
Your wrists gently but firmly held over your head, his weight settling between your legs, hips pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.
He’s grinning wildly now, unrestrained joy written all over his face.
You swear - swear - you see little cartoon hearts practically floating in his eyes.
“Well,” he says, delighted, “now I gotta reward you for how fucking cute that was.”
You groan out an amused," you slut.”
He leans down, nose brushing yours before he literally licks the tip of your nose, “And you looove me.”
You do, unfortunately.
You wake up before him, which feels rare enough to be a small miracle.
Logan is sprawled beside you, sheets tangled around his waist, broad chest rising and falling slow and steady. For once, there’s no tension etched into his face. No scowl, no clenched jaw. Just calm. Rest.
It makes your chest flutter stupidly.
You prop yourself up on one elbow, studying him like he might disappear if you look away too long. His dark hair is mussed, lashes resting against his cheeks, brow still faintly furrowed even in sleep.
You reach out carefully, smoothing your thumb over that crease.
He snaps forward without warning, teeth chomping the inside of your wrist — not hard, but just enough to make you yelp.
“Logan!” you gasp.
He doesn’t even open his eyes at first. Just smirks hotly.
“Shouldn’t poke dangerous animals,” he murmurs from having your wrist beteeen his teeth, voice rough with sleep.
“You were asleep!” you accuse with a glare.
“Was restin’,” he says with a snort, “You’re noisy.”
You glare harder at him. “I was being affectionate.”
He releases your wrist, bringing it closer to inspect like he’s deciding whether to apologise for the faint mark he had left. His thumb rubs over the spot, gentler now.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”
That’s as close to soft as he’ll get, and it makes you grin.
“You looked peaceful,” you tease. “Didn’t know you were capable.”
“Careful, darlin'. ” he warns. “I got a reputation.”
You lean down and press a sweet kiss to his scarred knuckles — slow, deliberate, affectionate.
That’s all it takes.
Logan’s breath hitches immediately. His eyes darken, and in the next second he’s pulling you down against him, hand fisting lightly in your hair as he claims your mouth in a heavy kiss. All heat and hunger and unmistakable intent, tongue sliding against yours like he’s been waiting for an excuse.
When he finally pulls back, forehead resting against yours, he exhales sharply.
“…You do that on purpose,” he growls.
You smile, completely smug. “Maybe.”
He snorts, already leaning back in. “Smart mouth’s gonna get you in trouble.”
"Well, my smart mouth made you cum three times last night, so-"
His teeth nips your bottom lip, glaring at you but the smile twitching onto his lips told you all you needed to know.
You wake slowly, cocooned in warmth and soft sheets, your body pleasantly heavy. For a moment, you don’t move. Just breathe.
until you realize the weight against you isn’t just the blankets.
Scott.
He’s curled into you, his head resting against your chest, one arm loosely draped around your waist like he belongs there. His face is relaxed in sleep, lashes resting against his cheeks, mouth parted just slightly. For someone who always carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, he looks… peaceful. Safe.
Your heart does a small flip.
His hair is a complete mess, dark strands sticking up in every direction, and when your gaze drifts lower, you notice them... two faint bite marks along his collarbone, already blooming into soft bruises.
Heat rushes to your face as last night crashes back into your mind in vivid fragments.
“Oh my god,” you mumble to yourself, mortified and amused all at once. “I’m such a horny mess.”
A quiet snicker answers you.
You freeze.
Scott looks up at you, his eyes shut tight as he gives you a charming smile, “You say that like I didn’t enjoy every second.”
You groan, lifting a hand to cover your face. “You were awake.”
“Mm. For a while.” His voice is still rough with sleep, low and warm. He shifts closer, tilting his head so his lips brush your skin. “Couldn’t bring myself to move.”
You reach toward the nightstand, fingers searching blindly, and he takes that as an invitation as your body hovers over him more.
His mouth trails along your collarbone, slow and lazy, punctuated by soft kisses that linger just long enough to make you shiver. A gentle nip here, a teasing suck there - like he’s leaving reminders.
“Scott,” you laugh breathlessly, finally grabbing his glasses and nudging them toward him, “You can’t even see.”
“Minor detail,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss before slipping them on. Once his glasses are secure, he looks up at you properly, that familiar fondness settling into his expression, “Besides, I know you pretty well by now.”
You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “So confident for someone who uses a laser-proof sleep mask.”
“Hey,” he protests lightly, fingers tracing idle patterns along your side. “You like my sleep mask.”
“I tolerate it.”
He hums, clearly unconvinced.
The banter fades into something quieter as you lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. Then another. You let them trail lower, over his jaw, down his neck, across his chest, feeling his breath change beneath you.
By the time you disappear beneath the blankets, his breathing is already uneven, a sharp inhale catching in his throat as your breath ghosts against the inside of his thighs.
His hand slides into your hair, fingers threading through gently - not guiding, just holding on. You were his tether.
“God,” he exhales, head tipping back with a pant, “You’re dangerous.”
You smile to yourself and take him into your greedy mouth.
You wake up warm and hazy, reaching instinctively for him—
— and finding nothing.
Your eyes blink open, frown forming immediately as your hand pats the empty space beside you. The sheets are still warm, which somehow makes it worse. You let out a quiet, dramatic huff and flop back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling like you’ve been personally wronged.
Then you hear it.
The toilet flushes.
A moment later, the bathroom door creaks open, and Peter pads back into the bedroom in nothing but soft pajama pants and a sheepish grin, chocolate brown hair still damp from splashing water on his face.
“Oh no,” he says immediately, voice amused. “That face. That’s the ‘I thought you disappeared forever’ face.”
You turn your head slowly, eyes narrowed. “You left.”
“For, like, thirty seconds,” he laughs, crossing the room. “I promise I didn’t swing off into the sunset.”
He barely gets back under the covers before you’re on him, arms and legs wrapping around his middle like a sleepy octopus. He lets out a surprised laugh, automatically curling into you, one arm snug around your back.
“Missed me that much, huh?”
You mumble something incoherent into his chest, fingers clutching his shirt. He smiles softly, pressing a kiss into the top of your head, lingering there. His hand drifts lazily over your side, warm and familiar, tracing over your hip and down your thigh.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “You okay?”
“My legs are sore,” you mumble, half-asleep.
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Peter stiffens just slightly.
“Oh,” he says, flushing instantly. He clears his throat, ears definitely red now. “Uh— I mean— I can— I can carry you? Today. Around the apartment. If you need. Like, totally heroic bridal carry situation.”
You snort, lifting your head to look at him. “You’d do that?”
He nods earnestly, trying very hard not to think about why your legs are sore. He needs to remember you're not as flexible as he is. You seriously were put through the ringer last night, your legs being manhandled in every which direction.
“Absolutely. Doctor’s orders. I’m the doctor. Of… being your boyfriend.”
You laugh, settling back against him as he relaxes again, pressing another gentle kiss to your hair.
“Stay,” you whisper.
He tightens his hold just a little. “Wasn’t going anywhere.”
You wake to friction and heat, your body responding before your thoughts can form. Johnny is behind you, breath ragged against your ear, every exhale hot enough to make you shiver. There’s a slow, deliberate pressure as he moves, unhurried, like he’s savoring the way you melt beneath him.
You groan, half protest, half invitation.
“Easy,” you mumble, trying to sound annoyed.
He laughs softly, low and dangerous, and shifts closer. One of your legs is lifted with effortless confidence, opening you to him, fitting you exactly where he wants you. The contact sends a spark straight through your core, your back arching without permission.
“Funny,” he murmurs into your ear, voice rough with memory, “you weren’t saying that last night. Pretty sure you were the one pulling me closer.”
Your breath stutters. The words do things to you— do things with him pressed so close, heat radiating off his skin. Johnny always runs warm, but this is different. Sweat gathers along your spine, the air thick, charged. He’s a heater, coiled and barely contained.
A faint flare ripples along his shoulders, light licking through his hair. He swears under his breath and moves quickly, smoothly, rolling you onto your back before the fire can get out of hand. The mattress dips as he settles between your legs, bracing himself above you.
“Hold on,” he mutters, grin flashing as the glow fades. “Don’t need to set the place on fire.”
His hands slide to your hips, firm and grounding. He leans in, forehead resting briefly against yours, breath mingling with yours, the tension unbearable.
Then he shifts — just a fraction — and the world narrows to sensation. There’s a slow, steady press, a shared inhale, the unmistakable feeling of being filled as your cunt welcomes him again. A sound slips from your throat as he stills, eyes locked on yours, heat humming between you.
Johnny exhales, satisfied, reverent. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Just like last night.”
Featuring: Logan Howlett (800+ wc), Kurt Wagner (900+ wc), Scott Summers (1.6k+, can you tell he's my favorite? I wasn't making a separate post just for him), and Wade Wilson (900+ wc)
Content Warning: 18+ NSFW, afab!reader, Logan smells reader, bad German translations for Kurt, switch!Scott (I know ball), switch!reader, not-so-dry humping, teasing, mating press, desperate need for touching, biting, (kinda) forced orgasm with Wade, referring to genitals like they're a person (Logan/Wade), Wade refers to himself as Daddy once, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex (Kurt/Scott), cream pie (Kurt/Scott), oral (f receiving), a lot of swearing, praise and groping.
Note: Following up on a request of (literally quoting) anything with Scott and Kurt with a Fem Reader. Happy Pride Month to my fellow queer people and our supporters. I love you and remember to be yourself ♥️🧡💛💚💙💜
Pt 1 Ft. Remy LeBeau + Anna Marie LeBeau
Logan
Morning breaks through the window next to your shared bed. The sounds of birds outside in the early sunlight draws your attention first as the grogginess settles in. Your eyes blink open, squinted up at the ceiling as you take in a deep breath as they fight the blinding light of early morning sunshine.
Your eyes shift to the right, the space next to you vacant of its usual inhabitant. No hairy lump of a man attached to your side to grumble about you grabbing him while you're sleeping. Acting like he hates it when you want to hold him first thing in the morning but never bothers putting up a fight and clings to you like some kind of attention starved puppy.
Your legs fidget, trying to wake up like the rest of your body. Just to be met with a growl coming from under the blanket. Mind slowly unfogging, you notice the boulder shape under the covers. Your hand moves to pull them back, Logan's face appearing with himself wrapped around your legs. Face shoved up against your mound through your sleep shorts, beard burning against your thighs while he nuzzles against your clothes slit. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes locked on the growing wet spot on the thin cotton.
"Mornin' darlin'," he rasps through a scratchy morning voice. Head not lifting, not even budging as you blink away what you think is a dream.
"Logan, what the hell are you doing?" He shifts to his elbows, pushing the blanket off his head when you notice his eyes are blown wide, pupils nearly swallowing the blue of his eye whole.
"Tryna behave while you're sleepin'... Didn't wanna wake ya, but I could smell it on ya." He pushes back in, nosing at your clit through the thin cotton keeping him away from you. You preen against him with a whine, seem pressing into your sensitive bundle along with his prodding nose. Pressing up onto your elbows, he ruts his face into you. Growling again before looking up at you.
"You must have been sleepin' real good. Dreamin' about me, and what I could do to ya if you’re good for me." The familiar sound of Adamantium claws popping makes your thighs tense around his head.
"You always wanna test my patience, tap dance on my last damn nerve. But I can see it on ya too. She's just slick and waitin’ for me to enjoy her." Shiny silver slides against your skin with a gentle press under your shorts and up against the fabric. His pupils dilate like a predator spotting it's next meal.
"You don't mind me testin' that theory, do ya now? I'll make it worth your while and then some." He looks at you expectantly. Stupid little smug grin on his face. It's, obnoxiously, too inviting for you to say anything but a resounding yes.
You give a single nod before the shorts are shredded, a gasp ripping from your throat as he pounces on you like an animal. Claws retracted with a satisfied groan as he dived it. Tongue diving into your pussy like he's trying to scrape the last piece of meat off a bone. Gliding from hole to clit before driving directly into the exact spot he knows makes your toes curl up. Your feet pull at the hem of his shirt as your legs lock around him with a ragged moan.
His hand goes to your lower stomach, pressing gently to keep you in place. His nose rutting against your clit just right to make your thighs tremble as the knot in your stomach starts to form quickly.
"Logan..." You whisper his name, feeling his hand pull you down the bed closer to him. His tongue leaves your hole as two fingers glide in with ease, his lips move back to suck on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your fingers curl into his hair out of habit, tugging at his scalp and making him vibrate against you.
A gasp leaves your lips, feeling your hips start to buck, fighting against his firm hold as the build starts to get too overwhelming. Blissful contractions fill your stomach in waves, orgasm crashing with a muffled mixture of curses and his name.
Panting, you watch him lick his own fingers clean, relishing over the mess you've made of yourself as he stands up. Tugging you to the bottom of the bed by your ankles. There's a noticeable wet spot on the front of his boxers before he discards them. Cock slapping up against the thick bushel of hair on his lower stomach, thick and swollen as he grabs it and gives himself a few strokes. A bead of pre cum slipping from the red tip that quickly moves to coat his shaft in his hand. His grip finds your legs, moving them onto his shoulders as he ruts his tip teasingly through your wet folds.
"Hope you weren't thinkin' we were done. We gotta long morin' ahead of us, darlin'. And I'm lookin’ forward to tasting every single bit of you."
Kurt
Fingers glide over your belly in your wake. Gentle and fuzzy like the body wrapped around you. Blue fur pressed against the shimmering skin of your back, a peaceful purr planted somewhere in your hair. Both of your body's bare from the previous night's actions, skin still dewy and his fur rumpled like a feral animal. His lips move when he feels you stir, kissing behind your ear before you can look back at him.
"You're purring."
"I'm very happy, I have every reason to be. Did you sleep well?" You nod with a yawn, stretching your arms with a roll of your neck. Turning your body, you press into him, his tail curling around your waist. His chuckle gracing your ears, his lips ghosting down the side of your face over the trail he's taken so many times before.
Your hand glides over his firm hairy chest, rosary glinting in the early dawn light with it tangled up in your fingers. His teeth nip at your pulse, tail flicking mischievously against your back.
"How'd you sleep?" You finally question, his head pulling back, yellow eyes looking you over with a gentle smile. His head tilts forward, foreheads meeting with a relieved sigh.
"Better next to you. It's been too long since I got to wake up to you like this." He leans in, mouth planting against yours with a sense of hunger that can only come from your mischievous boyfriend. Lips and limbs tangle together. Breaking each other open through a messy clash of teeth and tongues.
Knee pressing up between your thighs with a roll of his hips. His cocks hard and begging for attention against your stomach. You moan into his mouth before he pulls away, face pressing into your neck. Lips latching onto your pulse with a gentle nibble.
"You just had me last night, you haven't had enough of me?"
"I could never have enough of you, mein Engel." You slowly grin, hand gliding down as it wraps around his base. Making him roll into your hand as he moans at the lazy stroke. Thumb teasing along the underside of his tip just how you know he likes it. Your body's lifted, Kurt moving you against the pillows as he climbs over you. Half lidded eyes looking over you with primal hunger, tongue licking over his teeth with a soft chuckle at your startled eyes.
"You're going to be the death of me... Or my fiery descent into Hell. Especially with every sinful thought that crosses my mind when I look at you like this." You smirk, giving him a gentle squeeze and tug.
"Then I guess you'll need to say a few hail marys to make up for it." He lets out a soft chuckle before his hands wander, lips meeting yours as his thick finger glides through your folds. Plunging into your welcoming heat and stretching you open as his tongue slips into your mouth with a soft hum. His hips try to fuck into your hand as his finger curls right into that spot that has the light behind your eyes turning white with bliss.
You huff against his lips, whining when he pulls away from your grip. Shifting up onto his knees, hands guiding your legs around his waist and crossing your ankles in a snug lock. His tail wraps around your ankles to keep you in place as he lines himself up at your entrance.
Slowly, he slips in with a sigh of relief. Snug in your walls as he finds himself laying over you again. Giving you time to adjust with whispered praises against your ear in German. Your arms wrap around him, both hands digging their nails into the flesh of his shoulder blades under fur.
You moan at the first slow but rough roll of his hips. Pelvis rutting perfectly against your body with the practiced expertise of a man on a mission. The sounds of wet skin meeting damp fur fills the bedroom to mix with the blessed sounds of your mixed pleasure. Blunt nails dig into him as a rough thrust meets the perfect angle.
You cry out, feeling him shift into the right position before starting to drill into that spot with zero hesitation. Tail unraveling your ankles and pulling your legs up higher. His hand glides between yourselves, thumb circling over your clit as you clamp down around him with a soft whimper of his name.
"That's it. Take what you need from me die Liebste, it's all yours. Only yours." His forehead leans down against yours, your eyes squeezing shut with the white hot pleasure blooming through your entire body as you crash over the edge. Gripping onto him as you come with a broken moan.
His hips stutter for a moment, rolls getting sloppy before the last few pounds send him to the point of no return. Face pressing into your neck as you feel him painting your insides with a shaky pant against your skin.
Huffing and puffing you both collapse. Kurt's hands smoothing up your thighs to rub circles on your hips as he tries to ground himself against you. Face pressed into your neck with a soft mutter.
"Ich liebe dich." He kisses your jaw, arm sliding under you as he gets comfortable on top of you. Ignoring his fur matting against your damp skin.
"I love you too." You mutter through rough breaths, lips finding his temple as you hold him close. Reveling in his weight against you and him. Your fluids mixing as come slowly seeps out around his soft cock.
Scott
Coming to life in the dim haze of your bedroom, you roll over, your husband's body turned towards the door. Acting as his usual shield between you and the world. A yawn slips through your lips, arm traveling over his side as you kiss between his shoulder blades. Not to wake him, just to show your undying affection. Face nuzzling into the crook of his neck as he gently stirred.
"Down boy, no emergency, I just wanted to hold you." He hums, low and bassy as he turns towards you, meeting his groggy gaze through his sleep visor. Straps twisted from moving against his pillow, his hair puffed up like owl feathers behind his ears. It makes you chuckle as you're pulled in closer.
"What?" He mutters, hand coasting over your back. The cool metal of his wedding band complimenting his rough finger tips against your skin under your nightgown. He slowly blinks, his almost timidness when he's half asleep makes him all the more handsome.
"You're hairs just... It's nothing baby." You give him a peck to his plush lips as he groans with defeat. Returning the gesture with as much as his brain can manage this early. His head slumps into yours, eyes closing as his grip tightens around you. Protective and strong as always. He leans more into you, cutting all distance between your bodies as skin meets skin.
That's when you feel him, morning wood pressed against your thigh through cotton boxers. The faintest twitch of a heartbeat against you flesh. Your leg moves, he groans again.
"Good morning to you too."
"Ignore it." He mutters, shoving his face in your neck, arms tightening around your waist as your fingers go into his hair. Fixing the bunched up strands from under the top strap and back into place.
"What if I don't want to ignore it?" You tease against his ear, watching him shiver as his head lifts slightly, breath leaving his nose as it tickles your collarbone.
"Your liveliness this early in the morning concerns me... You are my wife, right?" You laugh, nodding to his question with a kiss to his nose. He huffs once, arm moving from under you to hold his head up. Leaning in you kiss his lips slowly, hand cradling his jaw as you mumble against his lips.
"When was the last time we had a morning with each other? No rushed kisses goodbye or not waking up together." His hand rubs your side, pondering the thought with a faint peck to your chin. Lips brushing down to your neck with tender presses to your pulse. A faint response nipping at your skin with his teeth.
"I can't remember." You hum against his skin, turning to kiss him again. Slower this time, molding together with a brush of his tongue along your bottom lip. You pull away as he tries to follow, your hand guiding him to layback. You lift yourself up, legs bending to straddle his waist as you reach for his shades off the nightstand.
"Close your eyes." He listens, squeezing them shut in cute little creases, lashes fanned over the pale outline of untanned skin as you pull them off. Leaning down, you carefully kiss each eyelid, sliding his shades back into place. Leaning back over to set the sleep set down, his hands push your nightgown up with a tender rub of your hips with his thumbs.
"There you are," you smile, eyes tracing his face as you lean back in. Lips connecting with his in a patient dance of hunger and need. His hand runs over your curves, fingers tangling into your hair to deepen the kiss. Your tongues melt into each other as your hips rut against him through his boxers. He gasps, head rolling to the side enough to moan away from your lips.
"Feel good?" Scott nods, trying to collect himself when you sit up. Feeling your mound rub against his clothed length with a slow pace that makes his face start to turn red. Your hands glide up and over his sternum, feeling his heart beat pick up beneath your palm. Trying to escape his ribcage by how hard it's pounding.
"You okay baby?"
"Yeah," he blissfully responds, trying to keep himself in check as you keep pressing against him. His hands give a gentle tug to your nightgown, and you give him what he wants without even having to ask. He watches closely, trying to ignore the growing wet patch making his shorts stick to his shaft. You let him take you in completely once the garment hits the bedroom floor. Hips pressing back into him, leaning over his torso with a lazy roll.
Your hand slides down, finger lingering over the vein protruding from the band of his boxers. Gliding over it with a tender press to its blood flow as you grind down. Moaning along with him when his head nudges your clit through the fabric.
"You- you're trying to kill me." He groans, hands tightening around your sides, slowly sliding down to grab handfuls of your ass as you push down again. Leaning in closer, you whisper in his ear.
"You want these off?" He hums in response, gaze not daring to peel away from your naked body as he ogles every curve and trace of skin when you sit up. You tease his waistband, watching his face start to contort with a notch of impatience. Scott usually has some much of it for your teasing, living for letting you rile him up as much as you wanted, but he's exhausted whatever patience he has.
Your back hits the mattress, a little stunned at his sudden switch for dominance. Scott's over you, lips planted on yours with a rough shove of his tongue into your mouth. As quickly as he's there, he's gone. Pulling away and off the bed, boxers coming off with lightning speed. His cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, heavy and dripping from his tip as you look up at him as his knees meet the mattress.
"Someone's excitable so early." He chuckles, lips turning into a little smirk.
"You like pushing my buttons. Don't act like you're surprised." Your little smug smirk turns to a shit eating grin as he starts climbing over you. Grabbing your legs and letting him maneuver you with a gentle touch only he could have for you.
Scott fits your ass flush with his thighs, legs pulled to rest against his shoulders as he kisses your ankle once. His rough hands sliding up your thighs and prying your lips apart with his thumbs. Staring down at your own dripping mess, eyes glancing up with a look that said 'you're as bad as I am'. His hand slides up, ghosting over the sensitive bundle of nerves with the rough pad of his thumb.
You whine, preening into his hand, making him chortle softly. He positions himself at your entrance, pressing in with a slow glide of his hips. Air leaves your lungs with a gasp at the sudden fullness. Scott forces himself to wait, body slowly leaning forward to hover over you. Your knees nearly pressing into your chest from his weight alone, held in place as he braces a hand on the bed somewhere near your head and his other moving to hold yours against the sheets.
He leans in, pressing a kiss to your heart as his hips start to rock. Body taking over as you grip him with your walls, his head hitting that angle with his usual laser pin point precision. Your fingers tighten around his grip, holding onto your only lifeline in any way you possibly can.
He grunts, face going flush as his pace picks up, leaning in closer as your eyes lock through his shades. Your hand comes up to curve over his jawline and cheek. He moves your legs off his shoulders and spread out wider over the bed. Body moving to cocoon yours with a needy pound of his hips, wanting to hold you close much more than anything.
"Scott..." You whimper as a warning into his shoulder, his lips finding your ear as he coasts along the skin under it.
"I know, baby. Me too." He catches a noise in his throat, damn near close to a whine. Feeling you clench around him at your impending orgasm, your bodies coil together. Scott feels your teeth dig into the muscle of his shoulder as your high rips through you. Making his body jolt, groan pulled from his throat as he fills you up, deep within your walls before he slumps over. Both of you panting messes clinging to each other.
"Sorry... Sorry I bit you." You mumble through breaths, feeling his head turn to kiss along your neck.
"It's okay... Did it break skin?" You glance at his shoulder, met by the indentation of your teeth. It almost makes you a little bit proud as you shake your head.
"No." He huffs, pulling back enough to look at you, both of you covered in a new layer of sweat and slick. If you weren't so sure, you'd miss that look of recognition at a job well done and his tiny hint of pride.
His lips meet yours in a caring kiss before pulling back as he climbs back, pulling off you with a sigh. Tapping your hip.
"C'mon. We're getting cleaned up." You groan, being pulled up by your arms. Sitting at the edge of the bed you see Scott going into his working mode. Pulling the blanket back enough to tug the sheets off the corners before he's back in front of you. Watching you catch yourself from your own head. His voice quiet, hand cradling your chin to keep your attention.
"Hey, why don't you go start a bath for us? We got another hour before I'm needed anywhere. I'll be in once I'm done." You nod with a hum, feeling him kiss your sweaty forehead with a hum.
"Love you," he mutters against your skin.
"Love you too."
Wade
The light of dawn bleeds into your shared bedroom, sun beating into your profile. You've actively been trying to ignore his antics for the better part of twenty minutes. You heard him come in about half an hour ago, lugging himself into the bathroom to shower and come back out to you, spread out in one of his old shirts and underwear. Curled up in the safe space you thought was your bed until this little shit started poking at you after he laid down.
First it was just snuggling, then his hands got antsy, wandering up under your shirt with a some half baked apology. Cold fingers gripping at your chest like his own personal nipple having stress balls. Muttering something to himself about a "lack of self control" and how you were his own personal fidget toy. Which lasted all of two minutes before he was burying his face between your legs and making it his mission to piss you off.
But you know Wade thrives on attention. Wade knows he thrives on attention, that's why he's been edging you and "helping" you "reach the big O" as he'd so proclaimed before jamming his shit eating grin right into your cunt.
And if anything he's fantastic at achieving things if he tries hard enough. But he also likes pushing your buttons a lot more. So, right as you're starting to flutter around his fingers for what's probably the fourth or fifth time by now. He's pulling away, only to look up at your scrunched up face and kiss your thigh with admiration.
You'd kick him in the face if he actually weren't so sweet...
"Y'know baby, if you just gimme what I want I can make both lips of yours smile in a minute flat. I'm not an amateur when it comes to coming. If anything, some depraved pervert, definitely not me, would love to see you grovel for mercy under their touch." He leans his head against your thigh, watching your eyes crack open in a still moderately tired haze.
"There's my girl. You finally see the voice of reason? I sure hope so. You're scrumptious, don't get me wrong. I could live down here for hours, but I don't want you suffering anymore then you have to. Come on, she's weeping for mercy, give her a break." You give a slow blink, no verbal response as he huffs through his nose with a disappointed tut.
"Have it your way, sugar puss. I'm enjoying my A.M.B., apartment mandated breakfast, either way." He shoves his face back between your thighs, making them lock against his head like earmuffs. Back to breaking you apart piece by piece with his motor mouth. Working you right up to that edge before pulling away with an inquisitive hum. Tongue gliding over his lips to clean your juices from his mouth with ease.
"Have you been eating pineapple? I'm getting a hint of sweet-" you don't let him finish as your legs lock around him. Twisting til he's under you and you're up on your knees. Any normal man you'd have to worry about breaking his neck, or killing him. Thank God that's not a problem here.
He's speechless for once in his life, you stare down at his wide eyes, his mouth slightly parted as your hands come up, pinning his in place above his head with an annoyed glare.
"Shut the fuck up and get me off." You growl, legs spread apart as you hover your cunt over his face with a slow grind down towards him.
"You know how to use your mouth any other time, c'mon." He groans under you, head lifting as his tongue moves to slip into place. His hands tug, your grip letting go. His arms come up, wrapping around your legs to pull you down flat against his face. His nose moves against your clit with a guide before your hips roll. Letting you ride his face like he doesn't need oxygen to live.
"Oh fuck," you whimper, hips grinding down in a smooth fast rut that makes the headboard knock into the wall with a thud. A definite noise complaint coming later. Your breath gets shaky as your orgasm slowly starts to build back up again. Chasing the tingle between your legs for only a few seconds before you're gushing on his face with a sharp cry. Palms meeting the sheets as you slump forward.
You pant, slowly trying to move off him. Wade grabs your hips before you can move, tongue dancing across you as he cleans you up from below. Hand tapping your thigh before you pull off. He lets out a gasp for life, breath shaky too as he looks up at you before grinning. Mouth covered in what remains of your release.
"Jesus Marvel Christ I fucking love you. I think Logan might be right, I am God's favorite idiot." He lets out a harsh sigh, leaning up to give you a kiss before you avoid him.
"No, you're not doing that with shit on your face. It's your turn away."
"Oh no, sugar puss. I'm good. I painted my favorite Hello Kitty jammies. But I guess you could say I really said 'Hello' to your kitty." You blink with a groan, slumping back into your pillows, hand rubbing over your tired eyes as he crawls over.
"What the fuck is wrong with you..."
"A lot. I thought we established that at our first fuck-a-thon. Now, just lay back and relax. Daddy needs his stiff drink of punani after a long hard day at work..." He chuckles under his breath with a quick whisper, "Haha, that's what she said."
"Wade," your hand meets his head before he can assume the position again, "it's five in the morning."
"Yeah? And I wanna get pussy drunk. It's always 5 o'clock somewhere."
Batfamily x Neglected! Moon Knight's Sidekick! Reader
(CHAPTER V)
Chapter VI
Summary: After a group of students kill you due to hate, you get resurrected by a godly and somewhat childish entity that wishes to use you as a host due to your impressive abilities. Moon Knight, following the orders of Khonshu decides to train you but develops an attachment towards you. Unbeknownst to your family who you begin to slowly ignore due to their neglect and your nighttime activities. THIS IS A CROSSOVER FIC
Author's note: Sorry for the late update. My family member had a medical emergency.
Warnings: Major character death, Major harm, Neglect, bullying, hateful themes, Reader coming to terms with being neglected, violence, jumping from high buildings, PTSD)
“Star Maiden!”
“No."
“Star Knight!”
“Oh god, you are so bad at this.”
“Moon Squire!”
“That's already taken! And my theme is stars! Not the moon!”
“No harm in having doubles.”
“I'll just stay nameless.”
“You can't stay nameless. You need a name! Come on, tell me more about yourself. What are your powers?”
“Who says I have powers?”
“You're literally flying.”
You really enjoy being a hero but It's times like these that have you wondering. Which is pretty insane now that you ponder it; you've literally been kicked to a pulp, punched to oblivion, shot at and stabbed at one point but this is what has you contemplating your choices?
You need to go out more. With people.
“What are your powers anyway? And how did you get them?”
“Don't ask me, Spidey. I don't even know my pow-”
“Telekinesis, telepathy, teleportation and in recent times — tangibility manipulation and abnormal strength.” Moon Knight monotone voice interjected from below.
“Oh wow thanks, Moonie. Glad to know someone keeps a file on me.”
“You need to know these things. Those powers aren't just powers. They're your senses at this point and it's important you keep track of them.”
“Alright, Dad.”
The line was supposed to be humorous. A common clap back to a man lecturing like a dad would. Like your dad should.
So why the hell was his answer-
“No problem.”
Moon Knight confused you. That was totally it. That was totally why you let out a little chuckle while continuing to fly while holding him. He confused you.
And it was hard not to laugh at the sight of you two.
The sight of you three is comically cartoonish.
Moon Knight can't fly, everyone knows that and he can't sling from building to building like Spider-Man.
So when you suggested holding him as a means of transport he had no choice but to allow you to grab him as if he were some overgrown infant and take him on this joy ride.
And to be honest, he didn't put up much of a fight.
“Can we please get back to the name?”
“No thank you, Spidey.”
“What's the press gonna call you? What's your merch gonna be?”
“I really don't care about that stuff. I'm here to save lives, not garner a fanbase.”
“You still need a name. What am I meant to call you? Moon Knight jr?”
“Are you always this talkative?”
“No.”
“Yes.” Moon Knight sighed out.
“Hey I have a name! What about Psyche?”
“That's the name of a Goddess.”
“Psy-Star?”
“Yeah no.”
—
Damian Wayne had been feeling that things were off in the manor lately.
For one, Alfred seemed more worried lately. Not worried about him though. It appeared that he was more concerned with other things.
His suspicions only grew stronger when he overheard something rather… distressing in Bruce's study.
“Master Bruce, I'm afraid you do not understand-”
“I understand perfectly well, Alfred. If Y/N isn't eating while she's home there's a high chance she's most likely eating elsewhere. Maybe she isn't a fan of your cooking.” Damian couldn't miss the sheer dismissiveness of his father's tone.
Was he always this cold towards you?
That level of nonchalance wasn't in his realm of understanding— at least not with Bruce. As much as Bruce loved portraying himself as some emotionless bat, Damian and everyone knew just how much he truly cared for them.
Yet why did it seem like that wasn't the case for you?
“I can assure you, Master Bruce. Miss Y/N has not been eating for weeks. And when she does she eats rather grand portions. It's alarming.”
“It's probably one of her diets. It's a phase, it'll go away.”
“Master Bruce-”
“I'm too busy for this Alfred. Talk to me later.”
That brings Damian to the second thing that's been bothering him lately.
You.
When was the last time he's spoken to you or should he say— you've spoken to him? He can't really recall initiating a conversation with you.
Like ever.
He didn't feel the need to.
You two had nothing in common.
He was a protector of Gotham.
You were some wannabe that Bruce kept around out of pity. If he could even call it that.
So why did he find himself here?
Standing in front of your bedroom door?
Trying to act as if his stomach wasn't going through all sorts of sinks and lurches.
It was just you.
Why would he ever care about what you thought about him?
Why the hell was he so nervous?
Why was he concerned?
He knows about your diets. You're a very accomplished MMA fighter who has to look after herself but the stuff you do to remain at the top never really sat right with him.
There were times where he assumed you were lying for the sake of trying to come across as “one of them”.
He never thought they were real.
At least not until now.
He exhaled a sigh and raised his hand.
Knock
Knock
Knock
You were currently dying.
You have the right to say that, right?
You did die ONCE.
You have every right to joke about it because the Gods know that you can't go to a therapist about it.
Your head was killing you and you felt really soft.
You tried thinking of anything else to keep this growing pain in your skull at bay but nothing was working.
They never got this bad.
Knock
Knock
Knock
“I know you're in there! Open the door now!”
Was that…
No way.
Was that Damian?
Yeah now you've really lost it.
There's no way you're actually-
Knock
Knock
Knock
You could feel the vibrations of the mahogany door.
You groaned in pain and tried to gather the strength to get up.
Your vision began to cloud up.
Taking a deep breath your thoughts shifted to the door.
Boom. You teleported to the front of the door. A bit dizzy but hey, no pain no gain.
Before he could knock again Damian was greeted with you staring down at him.
“Yes?”
“Why did it take you so long to answer the door? It could've been an emergency.”
“Is it?”
“...”
“Hm.”
Damian realised he didn't really know what to say to you.
You were different.
You weren't smiling and your eyes were hyper focused but there was nothing to focus on.
Were you on drugs?
“What's wrong with you?” He yelled accusatorially.
“Nothing…”
You leaned on the door slightly to support yourself. You really couldn't do whatever this is right now.
“Look if you're trying to get me in trouble or something-”
“What? Why would I do that?”
“I really wouldn't put it past you.”
“What's up with you?”
“Leave me alone.” You didn't have the patience for whatever this was.
That stunned him.
“Wait!” He called out just as you were about to shut the door.
“What?” Your movement halted.
Damian let out a sigh and looked down.
“Do you want to go to that insipid café tomorrow? They have somewhat pleasant cakes and tea. I believe you'd enjoy that." He offered, his eyes darting across the area.
You stared at him. You can't have sweets. That goes against your diet.
And you don't trust whatever Damian's on right now. He must have been hit with something, he'll ditch you the second someone else in the family comes around.
And plus
“I have band practice.” You closed the door.
Well. That was a first.
You would've jumped with glee at the chance to spend time with him.
And since when did you have a band? Could you even play an instrument?
He knocked again.
“Can I watch you guys?” He spoke to the door.
You didn't respond.
—
You really hate school.
The work is easy and you now have friends but you still have bullies.
You know, the guys that killed you.
You swear you were just minding your business by the bleachers.
“Hey Mutie!”
And then that happened.
Your face contorted into a harsh grimace.
Memories flashed before your eyes.
“Aww come on, mutie!”
“What do you want?” You sneered.
“You heal fast. Regeneration?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Make her leave.” That familiar gentle firm voice echoed in your mind.
Astraea?
You could barely register what was happening– it all happened so fast.
The girl opened her mouth to scream but whatever voice she had vanished. A mere croak left her before she dropped down to the ground with a muted thump.
She wasn't dead.
You could feel her cold heart still beating in her chest and feel the rush of blood in her veins.
But her mind had been altered.
Well, you should say it's currently being altered.
Whole memories are being rewritten, emotions are being rewired, it's as if she's becoming reprogrammed.
You snapped out of your idle state once you realised what was happening.
“Astraea! Stop it, you're changing her!”
“No, thank you.”
“There is nothing heroic about this.”
“She's going to hurt more people in the long run. We're saving those individuals.” You didn't miss the way her playful tone reverberated.
She enjoyed that.
“This will never happen again. And we need to get out of here.”
“Will you chill out? Nobody is here, which only supports my prior statement. She wanted to hurt you again and make sure nobody was there to witness it.” Astraea hissed out in pure vitriol.
Who the hell taught her the phrase “chill out” ?
—
You were so antsy.
“I quite like the name ‘Star Knight’”
“I don't. Now what?”
“You can't stay nameless forever, my dear.”
“I'll let the press decide.”
“Your choice.”
You were restless, tonight. Honestly, you were quite grateful to have Astraea for nights like these. You're aware you haven't demonstrated it but you missed her.
She filled in a spot nobody else had. Filled it with warmth and gentleness.
Is this what it felt like having a-
No.
That's different.
Don't think that way.
Oh Gods, she's in your head too. She definitely heard that thought. Hope she doesn't say anything.
“I've never had a child before…”
“Forget it.”
“Alright.”
You weren't on patrol today because you let it slip that you had an exam tomorrow and Moon Knight insisted that you stay home.
You needed some action.
You needed to get out of here.
Springing up from bed you walked to your door and sprinted into the window.
Your body felt hollow and you were in the air.
But you knew that meant you were invisible and intangible.
Nobody could see you. Nobody could hear you. Nobody could touch you.
A ghost.
Something you've been your entire life, only in this period in your life you've gotten powers to really show for it.
—
It was pitch black when you went for your night flight. You chose Hell's Kitchen because fuck Daredevil, you do what you want.
You couldn't really see people but you could hear and feel something and someone tailing you?
It wasn't like you were in Gotham so it couldn't be your family.
And it didn't smell like Daredevil either. He always smells like blood.
This scent was metallic and clean.
You stopped.
You couldn't read this person's mind.
“Finally caught up to you.” A deep voice boomed from behind you.
“Who's there!” Your hands were raised and charging up a mean blast.
The light revealed a man. His hair was the whitest thing you've seen, but he didn't look old, not a single wrinkle in sight.
As you scanned him you noticed he had a metal hand peeking from his coat.
So that's the thing you were feeling. It's sentient. Not the hand. But the material the hand is made of, it's moving in him.
yearner gambit jorking it to the thought of reader like he’s so hopelessly in love he can’t help it he’s a perv with a heart 😩😩😩
gawsh, our hopeless romantic perv. how i love him, poor thing.
gambit's breathing heavily, nuzzling his head stupidly against his own pillows as his chest rises roughly, "ough.. f-fuck.." he lets out a soft whine.
his fist is gripping the base of his cock, just shaking it back and forth before fucking into his fist. he whispers your name, like a sin falling from his bitten lips.
the only reason he has himself all worked up is because of you— you're a vixen. his curse and his blessing all at once. earlier today, you had been sitting next to him, innocently in a cute tank-top. tight shorts showing off your thighs.
he pictures you in front of him, pushing your tits together as the tip of your tongue drags against his swollen cock head.
"it's so.. good— so good." he chuckles out, fist wildly fucking around his cock as he huffs. his thighs tremble, balls tight as his cock twitches in his hand.
"fuck— ohh mon dieu — oui, g'nna fuckin'— cum—"
he lets out broken whines and a sharp moan, his eyes crossing into the back of his head, as he borderline humps his hand. thick beads of cum empty themselves from his, strings landing on his stomach, and chest as he fucks the rest of his strength out on his oversensitive cock.
he had caught multiple glancing of your nipples through your shirt, multiple glances of your ass when you bent over. it was killing him, his chest swollen along with his cock. now here he is— back arching off his bed as he groans, moans, whines— anything. his dick is so sensitive, thick globs of cum dripping from the blushing head of his cock as he continously fucks his fist.
Hello! I saw that your requests were open :)) Would it be possible to get some headcannons for Kurt, Ororo, Logan, Remy, Scott, Jean and Warren with an s/o who has a very high libido and isn’t ashamed about it? Feel free to skip!
High libido!reader x Remy, Kurt, Ororo, Jean, Scott and Logan (NSFW!! 18+!! MDNI)
!!Reminder that if you like this writing, my reqs are open!! Please direct yourself to the pinned post on my profile for more info!!
Synopsis - gender neutral!! how would Kurt, Ororo, Logan, Remy, Scott, Jean and Warren react to reader with high libido. This is sex across the board. Are they into it? + other random stuff about how sex would go (kinks, all that good stuff) + how they’d be after sex for sillies.
C/W - smut/mentions of smut, mention of kurts tail being used during sex, Logan’s claws are featured, f!recieving, m!receiving, gender neutral!reader, ice/temp play, jean using telekinesis to move sex toys, 5’3 wolverine (sorry 6ft+ wolverine truthers)
A/N - hai anon!! i love this, i wanted to make sure i covered all bases of “high libido” i really hope this lives up to your expectations :3
This took me so long with me being sick and I kept feeling a little repetitive, BUT ITS HERE AT LAST! I did unfortunately completely forget Warren though
I feel a little bad that all of them are pretty much a yes, cause I feel like a broken record but genuinely ALL the xmen are freaks with a lot of stamina, don’t blame me—blame people who write for them, I’m simply humbly interpreting
Not proofread…gulp
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Remy Lebeau/Gambit
- to say he’s into it is an understatement. I don’t think he minds his partners sex drive (was willing to pursue his love for rogue, even when neither of them were sure if there would ever be a solution to their touch problem.) however, I think he’d be more than happy to have a lover with a similar or same libido to him. Sex happens so often it’s genuinely a miracle either of you get stuff done. A morning quickie, date night sex, club bathroom, his car, the couch, kitchen counter. You’ve both mastered the art of getting each others clothes off in record time.
- He’s down for pretty much anything that isn’t hurting you, he’s okay with putting you in a bit of a headlock, maybe a little holding your jaw, but he doesn’t want you ever struggling to breathe, even a little. He has no qualms with you tying him up, giving him a little adrenaline rush, edging him. He’s an adrenaline junkie, he loves that shit. He can be dominant or sitting on his knees begging to go down on you, it’s up to you really.
- Remy is a “ready for sex” whenever kind of guy. You feel in the mood? The dudes already hard. He could go almost anywhere, anytime, anywhere, although his favourite places would be: bed, couch, and his car. He would have no issues keeping up with you, and would enjoy it.
- We KNOW he’s competitive, so occasionally seeing who can overexert each other more is a game. Teasing eachother, seeing who taps out first.
In the case that you win.. what finishes him off is you riding him. Seeing you on top of him, There’s a strange sort of intimacy of it. You moving slowly up and down his overstimulated cock, it makes his eyes glass over a little. He forgets to speak English, clutching onto your hips like it’s all that’s keeping him together. He looks sooo pretty when he finally reaches his climax.
In the case that he wins.. he’s going down on you. He has been for hours. Teasing you, coaxing each edged orgasm after orgasm from you. His hair messed up from your sweaty hands pulling on it helplessly. he gets so fucking cocky with you like this. he could honestly cum just from going down on you. at your final orgasm, on the last leg of his relentless victory, he wouldn’t tease it out of you. instead just letting you cum. Kissing up your body afterward for a brief break before round two.
- Remy can absolutely keep up. no matter how competitive you both get, you end up haphazardly thrown around each other, snoozing together and contentedly exhausted. He wakes before you just so he can make you something to eat, kissing you awake with the gentlest coaxing.
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Kurt Wagner
- Mr.“make more mutants” himself… the dude is a freak. gambit could match your libido, but kurt?? he is THE freak. i don’t think he could go a crazy amount of rounds all at once, BUT i do think he has stamina. so multiple longer, drawn out rounds, a lot of experimenting…if you catch my drift. he is into it!! i think he would be able to manage it pretty well. probably does need a decent amount of recharging time however.
- The tail gets used. (looking at you, Uncanny Spider-Man Issue #3 and legion of x #4..) he can grab with it, he can restrain wrists with it, any wild thing you could think of to do with his tail? he’s not above trying it at least once.
- I feel like he’s a little shy about biting/leaving hickeys, but if you’re into it he doesn’t mind a little grazing of skin with his fangs. i think he would draw the line at drawing any blood on purpose though. He’s SO down for you biting him a little, and would totally be down for you giving him hickeys,..except, he feels bad that they don’t show up and you have to have a mouthful of fur each time you attempt to give him any/
- Slightly off but on topic, i think he prefers sex in a colder environment cause of his fur, not overheating makes him last longer. He also doesn’t mind a little cold temperature play as well. Ice, water, cold hands..as well as having a shower ritual before having sex with you (unless you don’t mind the sulphur smell that clings to his fur, however he would need to be HEAVILY talked into not showering before sex. Dude gets a little insecure of the weird rotten egg smell)
- Again, he’s not one for super fast aggressive rounds, the slower, sensual, drawn out ones are what he’s good at. If you’re both starting to tire it’s not uncommon for you both to end up falling asleep while having sex, waking up and then starting up again.
- He gives the sweetest aftercare, he’s all holding you close, making sure he didn’t accidentally cut you or leave any marks, pressing kisses all over your shoulders while you bathe together (it’s also incredibly fun to lather up his fur. It just feels cool).
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Storm
- The most elegant freak you’ve ever came across. When you guys start having sex I think both of you are mapping each other out. The first few times you both realise you have high libidos and from there, it only gets better. Storm is so lovingly put together and calm, that half the time you can’t fully tell when she’s down for sex until she’s kissing just a little too low down your neck.
- Shes the type to go multiple rounds with you, fall asleep with you—and when you wake up she’s drinking tea and reading a book as if you weren’t making each other cum hard enough to feel a little light headed and seeing stars. She will smile sweetly, pouring you a cup too (if you like tea) and sitting with you for a little while, reading together or she reads and you watch something on TV.
- TEMP PLAY!! or messing about with sensations!! I defo see storm as being somebody who can take both a dominant role, or a more submissive one. However if she’s feeling like being a little dominant: you blindfolded, trailing a thin layer of water over your skin and using her mutation to summon a little breeze to blow over your skin, watching the goosebumps rise on your skin. I also don’t think she would entirely object degrading you a little. Not super cruelly, but more of a “praise and degrading” sort of thing.
- Loves receiving oral or having you either get off on her strap (yes, she has one. it doesn’t matter if you’re a man or woman, or anything in between.) or, other way round and it’s her being on the receiving end of some form of penetration. especially if she doesn’t have the full energy to get into the mood and wants to take a bit of a backseat while you satisfy yourself.
- Honestly, depending on the day I think it’d be you worrying about if YOUR libido could match hers, again. She is so calm and wise but I don’t think she’s shy in the bedroom by any means, if she’s in the right mood she can outlast YOU 😭
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Jean Grey
- Yes. So blatantly yes. Jean is similar to storm in a way, she comes off so calm and lovely, nobody would guess how she could be in the sheets. It even took YOU off guard. You assumed she would likely just able to manage the average, when you guys decided to have your “what to expect from sex” talk (what are hard no’s, kinks, how you like being taken care of after, getting to know what lines can or can’t be crossed) you’d let her know about your high sex drive. Letting her know that she never needed to feel compelled to keep up, and that if she was tired you had no qualms getting off yourself. She just smiles, telling you not to worry.
- When you have sex, she can fully keep up. In fact SHE is the one giggling about slipping in a little morning sex after a night that has tuckered you both out. Shes like..half subtle. Jean is the type of woman people lower their heads to simply out of respect. She can semi keep that air about her when both of you decide to sneak off for a little while.
- A hard no for her is ever using her telepathy on you during sex or using it to manipulate your feelings/consent in any way. Although, she’s not above using her telekinesis to make stuff move. if you’re both women (or a dude into this sort of thing), yes she is controlling the thrusting movement of a dildo for both of you.
- she gives the BEST aftercare, I see her as being very attentive. Again, the telekinesis comes in handy when it comes to getting things for you both from far away. She knows what you want (she may or may not read your mind to figure it out, however she knows you pretty well regardless)
- Neck kisses make her fold, literally for ANYTHING. If she’s contemplating something and you pull out the puppy eyes and a kiss to her neck? She’s a goner. And that includes caving in the bedroom too, if you beg just right she would let you cum in a heartbeat, She thinks it’s sweet even in the most sexual of contexts.
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Scott Summers
- He’s into it but he lowkey plays it off at first. the first time you guys have sex he’s a little awkward, and very much scared of his visor accidentally getting nudged or coming off. “am i doing this right?” “does this feel good” needs a lot of hands on learning, show him where you like being touched, let him watch you masturbate for uh..scientific research, let him learn what you’re into. However once he learns? the dudes a menace. he learns quick and keeps that information locked in his mind.
- He can last a long time, but similar to Kurt loves a sort of soft thought out sex. He’s also not above having sex to de-stress, being a leader sucks at times and sometimes he just wants to have you ride him or let him take over while he mutters about his day under his breath. he gets the habit of pulling on the sheets to the point there’s faint frayed spots all over them where the fabric has been worn down.
- Big fan of cuddling with you after sex, he might sit there working away on stuff while having his arm around you or your head on his shoulder. He needs a good recovery time afterwards. He also unironically loves holding hands during sex. You’re riding him? His hand is lacing with yours. He’s got you down on the bed? You feel his hand creeping up to give yours a squeeze
- Acts like the idea of you giving him head under his desk is scandalous, however does still allow you to do it time to time, only when he KNOWS nobody will walk in. The risk is there, sure. But if he’s expecting somebody it’s a hard no. He’s a freak, a shy one—but he also wants to remain professional when it matters.
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Logan
- Assuming we are talking about Logan when he’s in his prime, not only has he been alive for a long ass time, but we all know he could keep up as well as have a shit on of experience (If it’s old man Logan, I don’t think so. Be careful with that old man, he tries.)
- He’s into it absolutely no question. The dude goes FERAL for it. He has no shame either, that little guy is dragging you away at moments notice if you’re both in the mood (which, pretty much every time you both are) + he can smell when you’re getting a little hot under the collar. He uses that to his advantage as often as possible.
- Hard, Rough, Toe curling, Bed breaking sex. Sure, he’s small for a dude but he packs a punch (not literally. He’s here for a little grabbing your chin to look at him, but never actually hitting you). He can also lift you pretty easy no matter how much taller/heavier you are than him.
- This may be a head canon that gets me jumped by a certain area of wolverine enjoyers, but I don’t think logan is exactly the biggest down under the way I’ve seen others write him (I’m talking, people writing him as if he’s wayyyy above average.) he’s thick and 4-5 inches so kind of average/a little below, a lot of body hair. He knows how to use it, and he’s well past any shame he may face.
- Sex anytime, anywhere, any planet, and he’s pretty much down for anything. He goes between being pretty dominant, purely sweet and loving (when he really wants to appreciate you and love all over you), and being grumpy and slightly reluctant when receiving, not cause he doesn’t like it. But when he’s the center of attention, he gets a little flustered. Instead of flushing pink like the average person, he opts for being grumpy.
- He’s so careful with aftercare, his claws DO come out when he cums, he’s making sure any injuries his claws may have accidentally given you are patched up (he would honestly stop sex mid way to patch you up, even if you like a little pain), hugging you, that gruff Canadian accent giving slightly awkward praise.
Warnings: {18+ MDNI} Reader has sexual thoughts, reader is ovulating, mentions of sex (no actual smut), profanity
A/N: I neeeed Kurt to be real.
Maybe it’s the smile. How white teeth, some sharp some not, brighten up your day when flashed at you. He smiles to much how could it not be his smile that has you riled up like this? You see it when he wakes up and when he goes to bed, both after he kisses your forehead.
Then you wondered, maybe it’s his hands. His big, strong hands. The way he holds onto you every morning as he’s snuggled up against you because you’re HIS. The way a hand rests on your lower back when you guys go to a fancy event.
And, not to far off from his hands, you started to wonder if it was his arms, too. He’s always working out his upper body muscles anyways. So, his biceps are there and very prominent. Maybe it was his muscles.
But who are you kidding.
You’re just ovulating. Every innocent thought, excuse, whatever just gets clouded up with lust. Pure lust and desire.
His smile? You wanted to see his smile as he came inside of you for days now. Something purely feral inside of you just wanted those pearly whites to bite into your neck and thighs as he claimed you as his once more.
You wanted his hands on your naked body. Caressing every inch of you, fingering you, anything. You wanted him to worship you.
When you saw him training all you could see was the muscles flexing in his arms. Those strong, strong arms. You wanted him to manhandle you, be rough with you as he pounded inside you. It was getting so bad to the point that you didn’t even care which hole he used.
It didn’t matter what he wore right now. Even when he wore his priest attire you could help but want him. You just wanted him. You wanted your husband.
Every hour, everyday, everywhere.
It’s too bad he couldn’t take a hint. Like for example you put emphasis onto “good” when you told him he looked really good today. And he just smiled and pecked you on your cheek.
Or last night, when you wore fancy royal blue lingerie to bed and he just kissed you again on your forehead. Part of you felt like you were being punked. Kurt’s libio sometimes can be no joke. When you first met him, he tried to restrain himself but you two ended up doing like rabbits anyways.
He said it didn’t matter anyways though because he knew he wanted to marry you. And then he did.
That was only a year ago.
You know the honeymoon phase is not over just yet. You and Kurt didn’t even need one with how strong your love was. But you just wished he’d pick up on these signals that you wanted nothing more but to fuck him like crazy.
All you needed was 5 minutes to passionately tear him apart. One orgasm.
What’s worse is he could literally be doing anything. Laughing, eating cereal, doing his hair, stretching, reading…
It didn’t matter. You wanted to pounce on him nonetheless. You were hungry.
Ovulating made you more crazy for him than you already were which was hell. It almost made you feel disgusting. Even though he is literally your husband now, he’s not as horny as you typically. You keep thinking about when he showed up in you guys room in his priest robe looking all serious. It was 8am on a Sunday, and you just woke up. He had early mornings on Sundays so he let you sleep in a bit.
He looked almost divine as he looked out the window, pondering in the golden sunlight. Beautiful, is how you’d see him if it was any other day. But, because it was this special week, he looked exquisite. And of course ridiculously attractive. You watched him silently from your shared bed as he just looked. He didn’t notice you were awake for 10 minutes.
You felt bad. This isn’t why he was dressed up, to be your eye candy. Lust is something you felt shame for even for your husband.
But, it drove you crazy. He fit you like a glove, it was just meant to be. It drove you crazy how in the mornings he never got morning wood do you’d have an excuse to “relive him”. It drove you crazy that he barely reacted to your lingerie. That you kissed him longer during these times or even held onto him tighter when he had to go.
And, so you finally confront him one day.
“Kurt..”, You say one night sitting on his side of the bed watching him in the bathroom wash his face.
You see his ear twitch towards you, and then he looks at you while humming in acknowledgment.
You say it looking right into his golden eyes, “Kurt..I want you.”
He doesn’t move for a second. Then he cocks his head.
“Vant me? How so?”
“Don’t play dumb, Kurt. I want you.”, you responded slightly annoyed. You tried to give him your best bedroom eyes too, batting your lashes and all, but he seemed unbothered.
“You vant me..hmmm.” He says looking back in the mirror. You can’t see his face fully but you swear he’s smiling to himself now.
“What’s funny?”, You giggled, though still a bit annoyed he’s playing with you. It would be more funny if you biggest want right now was for him to disrespectfully fuck you through the mattress.
He doesn’t respond this time. The room is silent aside from him moving in the bathroom and the beating of your heart from anticipation in your ears. He just hangs his towel up and comes out the bathroom still smiling. He stops in front of you and then he lifts your chin up so you can look into his eyes once more.
Then lowly, “How do you vant me, my dear?”
“Kurt-”
“Shhhhh,” He puts a finger to your mouth. “Tell me. Because i’ve been waiting for you to say it all week.”
Ohhh, he’s been waiting.
You bite your lip a bit thinking if you should say it, and then you do. “I want you to fuck me. Make love to me. Anything. Please.”
“Finally.”, he says with a big smile across his face. “You just don’t know how bad I vanted to ruin you when you wore that blue two piece.”
Before you can respond he leans down to kiss you deeply. Both of his hands hold onto your face gently as he hummed in satisfaction.
You tried to ignore the annoying ache between you legs when he breaks away so let you speak. “Why…make me say it? You’ve been driving me crazy for ages now.”
“I simply needed to make sure I was reading things correctly. That you really wanted me.”, He whispers it before kissing you once more, this time with more hunger. “Didn’t vant to overstep.”
You sigh as his hands reach behind you to unclip your bra. “Maybe I should just flat out tell you more often.”
“Maybe so.”, he chuckled while pulling off his shirt. “Now lay back for me. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
