#remis anons<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[changisworld]

Skz with possessive reader? 🤭 like reader is still a sub but can be veery jealous. Like if she sees a fan flirting with a member she wouldn't let go of that member (did i explain it enough? Idk😭please tell me if i did) and what do you think how would members react?? hihi just my thoughts (its supposed to be smut-) 😭

-🦇

YAMMYYAMMYYAMMY this would be so me i swear

I think leeknow, seungmin & also hyunjin would be SOOOO obsessed with the idea of you being possessive, especially right in front of their face BXBSBSBSB, holding their hand in front of any girl that speaks to them, purposely not laughing at anything the other person says but laughing a moment later if your boyfriend says something even less interesting, purposely kissing his cheek a few too many times knowing lipstick or lipgloss would stain their cheek, just to show they really are yours & yours only.

Would definitely make it up to you as soon as you got home by fucking you into the mattress, teasing you on your behaviour as your eyes are going teary from how good he’s fucking you.

“you like this cock don’t you, hmm? seem to be so jealous of anyone who steps near it”

“made for you, would never dare give it to anyone else, unless that’s what you’re wanting hmm? jealous jealous girl”

“so hot when you’re so protective y’know that? almost wanted to fuck you right there”

on the other hand, i think han, felix & probably changbin would be SO flustered by it!! the way your voice sounds more monotone while talking to the girl who you can swear flirted with them just by breathing too close to them! once you’ve successfully got the girl to get the hint & fuck off, you can feel your boyfriends eyes burning into the side of your face, honestly kinda star struck

of course once you have time for yourselves they’re so so quick to show you how much they love YOU & don’t want anyone else!

“so so pretty, so lucky for you, you look so cute when you’re jealous”

“so protective of me, makes me melt”

definitely buys you or makes you a gift to further show how much YOU mean to them🥲

OKAY so jeongin & bangchan i feel like they would get insanely turned on from it.. because why the hell wouldn’t they when you’re latching yourself onto his arm like a sloth pretty much & pretty much ushering them away from whoever you deemed was flirting or being too nice to them. the thing is though, they probably never catch on at first that you’re jealous & they probably just assume you’re tired or feeling a bit sick or something & they feel so silly when it finally clicks in their head.

they for sure try to tease you by acting even more dumb & asking you outright why you were acting that way, & the second you tell them that you WERE in fact jealous, they know just the way to make it up to you.

“i’m all yours, lemme show you how much i care, hmm?”

“you’re perfect for me & me only, don’t get jealous over anyone because they don’t compare, just look at you”

“if you could feel how good you feel trust me you’d never even want or need to be jealous of anyone else” he groans as he presses his tip past your folds

main masterlist here

->anon list & tag list are open!

@jisungml

[bvnnyl0v3r]

I may have drawn me and all my moots :>

@thurio-edau @mildlybizarrecorvid @niredsw @aredeemantagonist

@sn0w-o @exy-mybeloved @my-mom-named-me-duck

@erklen11 @piigeonss @kalcium-yippee

[greghatecrimes]

OKAY YOU ASKED FOR IT THIS IS ME HAPPY RAMBLING ABOUT ITD LET'S GO

'You’re okay, Thirteen. I’ve got you.' - genuinely made me go eueueueueueue😭😭 😭😭😭 when I first read it... Ohhhh....

'His voice drips with mock-concern. “Was that too bright for you?”' - in! Character!I read that and was like 'yeah he'd say that' lmfao

Just the entirety of thirteen being so mad at House for leaving her alone... Like everyone else...

THE 'because you chose Wilson over-' I'm mad. I'm so dead. Help.

Thirteen flinching so many times 😭 oh my baby

Him recognising the chorea and her immediate attempt to shut it down :<

Thirteen trying to verbally force him out, and when that doesn't work, trying to physically claw him out

The 'im not leaving' ouughhh last resortcore...

Rem trying to hit him where it hurts by attacking Wilson ouuugh

'she throws herself at House's right side, ready to strike him down at his weakest point.' was she gonna go for the leg? 😭😭😭 sobbing.....

'future spelled out before her' NOT HER KNOWING WHAT'S TO COME WHEN SHE'S SLOWLY PASSING OUT RRRRRR

House tenderly cradle carrying her even though it reaaaally fucking hurts him this actually broke me btw

'as her father murmurs: Good night, Thirteen.' dad hallucination/memory symbolism. Her dad turning into House. Him saying such a paternal-like phrase.

'start running and never, ever stop–' ohhh sweetheart you've never stopped running. Even through working with house even after getting fired even now.. ohh......

Jay and the rabbit nickname in general. Jaybird, I love you..

her half laughing about the fact the overdose is killing her, nooo....

House stressedly growling at her cause she's half dead already WAAAAAHHHH

the foreman italics saga. 'the way she'd longed for after Kutner's suicide' girl who. Is going to scream cry over this

mmm anyways thanks you :3

OUSDHF:LKDS HAPPY RAMBLING ABOUT ITD??? THIS MADE MY DAYYY. Thank YOU and omg in return you are getting rambles back<3

"You’re okay, Thirteen. I’ve got you." - Genuinely I think that I made the same noise as you did reading it, when I wrote it. That was one of my favorite parts of chapter two to write, and it kills me a little bit that right now [as of the end of chapter three] Thirteen doesn't fully remember it

"Sorry. Was that too bright for you?" always makes me laugh a little LOL. I'm so glad you liked that line!! I was hoping it would come across how i was imagining it (in that almost like.... sardonic tone of House's, I can't think of the proper word to describe it).

Yeah. Thirteen is rightfully upset, and she's.... she thinks about it several times in chapter three, but she feels like she's always being left alone. When her mom died (headcanon/backstory that I've given her for ITD is that she felt very isolated in the immediate aftermath of her mom's death, even if her dad and brother were around physically), when Jay got sick, when she got her diagnosis, after killing Jay, etc. So she resents that he just... chose to leave her alone and "run away" with Wilson (alone in the sense that she had no one around to kill her, not that she was completely alone physically– she did have Amy (AMY!!! I am developing Amy and she's going to be big part of the story later, I'm SO excited for it.)) even after he promised her he would be there for her when the time came. Even after she admitted to him in 8x19 that the things he's done for her are probably the most selfless things anyone has ever done for her, ever! That's a big moment of vulnerability, and that kind of just got thrown back in her face (unintentionally on House's part), so it's quite a sting for her.

Writing the back-and-forth of her feeling so angry and resentful, but also wanting so badly to just... accept that he's back, that he might actually be there for her (but it has to be too good to be true, right? He left once, she's not falling for it again), was both a challenge and something I really, REALLY enjoyed. Anger and vulnerability (i.e. wanting reassurance) are both things that Thirteen usually tries not to show around other people. So I really loved getting to crawl inside of those feelings and pull out the anger and hope she hides away– both so childlike, really, in a way, because she keeps this part of her so tucked away from the world.

The "I'm not leaving" was absolutely 100% meant to be a nod to Last Resort, hehe. Nice catch >:3 And yes, in her hungover haze she was absolutely trying to go for his leg. (Not that she got very far with that, though.)

"House tenderly cradle carrying her even though it reaaaally fucking hurts him this actually broke me btw" I think in that moment he doesn't give a shit about how much it hurts; he's thinking that he almost just lost her, and he's not letting her go (read: die or run away) that easily.

"'as her father murmurs: Good night, Thirteen.' dad hallucination/memory symbolism. Her dad turning into House. Him saying such a paternal-like phrase." HEE HEE I have future imagery planned with this exact phrase so I'm so glad you liked it <3 That bit (her drug induced dream sequence that bled into reality as she woke up) was low-key probably my favorite to write in this chapter.

Re: her running away. ABSOLUTELY. She's always been running away from something in her life (because she's learned she has to be avoidant to survive, but writing about that in depth would be an entirely separate post) and I see it like these lyrics from Runs In The Family: "And running is something that we've always done well/And mostly I can't even tell what I'm running from"

Jay. JAY!!!!!!! I'm going to ramble a little bit about Jay. @x-birdsong-x has brainwormed with me so much and helped a TON in developing Jay (and ITD in general), he wouldn't be who he is now without her and all of our brainworms/convos (ty fren<3). Without spoiling too much of what I have planned for later chapters, here's what I will say about him: He is the best big brother in the world and he and Remy love each other so fucking much. They're about seven years apart. And the full nickname he has for her is "Remy Rabbit", but mostly it gets shortened to "Rabbit". He calls her that for her entire life- that and "Rem". When twelve year old Remy is upset after her mom's funeral, she goes and crawls into Jay's bed with him that night for the first time in a while, and that's the only way she gets any sleep. And when she confesses to Jay that she's worried their mom thought that Remy didn't love her, Jay's response is: [excerpt pulled directly from a planning doc I have] "...'You cared. You love Mom. Just the same as I do.' He glances down at her, thumbs the trailing tears off of her cheeks. 'Just the same as I love you'."

I love Jay so much, I'm going to die about it. You calling him Jaybird... that's so sweet... Bird recently said "Remy Rabbit and Bluejay" and I love both of those (Jaybird and Bluejay) so, so much.

THE FOREMAN ITALICS SAGA ASKDBH:GKJSE:GHKSDJFSDF THAT NAME FOR IT. I love that so fucking much, I just wasn't expecting it ougsdkghskdfds. That line about longing for comfort after Kutner's suicide-- ME I'm going to scream and cry over it, don't you worry, that line DESTROYS ME and haunts me and it will for the rest of my life. That bit from chapter three is legitimately one of my favorite things I think I have ever written:

THANK YOU for blessing my inbox with your thoughts/feelings/rambles!!! :D <3 It legitimately made my day, please please please always feel free to ramble in my inbox at any time! I can't tell you how happy it makes me when other people enjoy the fic I love writing :3

[bsdfeedings]

I'm thinking about beast dazai loving to overeat to distract himself from being mafia boss and loneliness. he rarely leaves his office and a few people notices his changes in his appearance.

this is so good, ty for this absolutely delicious scenario <3

COMFORT EATING WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!!! Him overloading his tummy with food to try and feel better ❤

His tummy being always stuffed and bloated to the max <3 struggling to digest everything because he doesn't give it much of a break before desperately forcing in more

Constantly feeling so heavy and sluggish with all the food in his gut so he doesn't really get up much from his chair

Chuuya is one of the few people who sees him, watching as he gets bigger and bigger. Each time he comes into Dazai's office he gets to see his overstuffed belly pushing out against his clothing—which has slowly changed from a constant rounded-out bloat to genuine softness—his thighs spread out thickly across the seat of his chair, the softening of his jawline... nghhhh (chuuya may or may not be horny about it hehe)

I wonder if Dazai would be more oblivious to the change to his waistline or is completely aware that he's getting fat 🤔 which is hotter with him? Idk, what do you guys think ^_^

[jillfvs]

"It's only been 3 episodes" As if that even matters? 😭

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Vellora and the other female li will be treated like trash like have you even seen how the other female lis in his other stories were treated? How they got zero screen time and were completely irrelevant to the plot? This man literally does not give a shit about women and yet here you are defending him.

live in the present, edgelord. the story so far is equally treating all lis (vellora and sha'arnez both have 3 diamond scenes, while tai has 4), so even if u are a "genius", u have no basis on whatever is coming out of your mouth.

yea, his older stories barely have any focus on the only female li present, i have said that plenty of times myself? i have always mentioned whenever i could that jester did a shit job with the lis, but ofc ud rather act all brave and loud to me anonymously then literally scroll a bit on my blog.

im not defending jester, im defending tts from joker wannabes like yourself that can't critically read something and think that they are soooo edgy and cool if they are overly aggresive and offensive.

[thwipsthrown]

Gee Remy! How come your mun lets you have TWO wives?

"Dey know what Gambit 'bout, cher."

[mikanferno]

Are you fond of your sense of smell?

yes!

[userparamore]

hi! can i ask a dumb question … when paramore teased dates for this week, was today’s date just to celebrate the 1 year anniversary of tiw? because I’m seeing ppl talk about a cover album or something and hearing snippets of remixes but idk where to find the snippets. did paramore release sound bites? sorry if this is a dumb question I’m just outta the loop 🥲

hi anon! <3 you're not dumb! i'm pretty sure today's date was just the 1 year anniversary for tiw. they haven't posted anything else for today.

but the snippets people are hearing are posted on paramore's discord, along with letters. the snippets are of other artists/bands covering tiw songs, and that's why the fandom's been speculating about a remixes/covers album. gonna link to this post by @dailywilliams and also check out dani's blog for the snippets. the next days they've been teasing is 02 oct and 06 oct.

i hope you feel more in the loop now <3

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

Format change? Maybe......

>Start< (Setting home watching TV)

News reporter: Breaking News! America's top criminal, Damion Scott, has broken out of jail! Stay safe

Axel: What...

Amber: So uh...

Reece: ah...I knew those tips would come in handy

News reporter: On today's missing person...Alex Lin has been missing for a week, police say that they might've been victim to a kidnapping...huh?...oh...yes...I was just told that people believe he was kidnapped by Damion Scott...anyways for today's weather– *TV turns off*

Amber: my baby....

Axel: don't worry we'll find them...

Reece: Ima see if D-man still has his phone and call him...

>End<

-👾

Out of request irl Axel is wishing for Ash to be changed to Amber

-Remy wHeRe ArE yOu???? *totally not an emo song reference that I forgot

Damion did not hesitate to start C H A O S but Alex needs to be saved

[blackberryjambaby]

its been a long time but hope you're doing so well and now that its the warmer months you get the chance to eat fruit in the ocean and not have to worry about how messy it is while ignoring how it tastes just a little bit like salt and you get to cross paths with the wildflowers who hate the cold and those spring birds who love them just as vehemently

i think the moon has gotten to me. last night I had a dream of finding fun lockets and vintage jewellery for cheap at the opshops - wishing you love and the same good fortunes

i'm printing this out & putting it somewhere i can see it every day, thank you 🫂🫀🫶 this is a poem to me. i hope the coming months are kind to you & that everything you find in op shops is perfect for you

[urdreamydoodles]

Hello! First off, I need to let you know you had made me the happiest person when I found out there was a marvel comic x reader writer and your writing is beautiful! I was wondering if you would write a hc of marvel comic Matt Murdock, Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner, and Julian Keller (idk if you write for him since he’s formerly x-men) reacting to reader kissing them out of nowhere/when they least expect it. Thank you!

X-MEN CHARACTERS X FEM!READER

You kiss them when they least expect it

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney, Wade Wilson & Julian Keller

Reply to anon: I'm a Marvel & DC Comic book fan first and foremost, so I wanted to write for this version of the characters and to be honest, I didn't expect so much love for it...SO I'M EXTREMELY HAPPY to receive your type of message! The headcanons for Matt come right after in the "Marvel Comics Characters" headcanons I will post <3 (Btw, I love Julian)

Logan Howlett

- Logan smells you before he sees you, that familiar, intoxicating scent that always seems to linger in the air long after you’ve left. He barely has time to turn before your lips are on his, searing and unexpected, a wildfire in the dead of winter. His entire body tenses—like something wild, something caged—but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he goes utterly still, as if afraid that any movement will wake him from this impossible dream. He has lived lifetimes soaked in blood and regret, but this? This is something he never let himself believe he could have.

- The taste of you is an ache, something he knows will settle into his bones and never leave. His hands twitch at his sides, the animal in him howling to hold, to take, to claim—but you are not something to be taken. And so, he lets you lead. Your lips move against his with the kind of softness he has never known, and his mind screams that this is dangerous. He is dangerous. But then you sigh into him, fingers curling in the worn leather of his jacket, and he thinks—maybe—he could allow himself this one selfish thing.

- When you finally pull away, his breath is unsteady, rough, the remnants of your touch burning through his veins like whiskey. His eyes—dark, stormy, something unspoken lurking beneath them—search your face as if trying to commit every detail to memory. He should say something. Tell you this is a mistake, that he is too old, too broken, too much. But when he sees the way you look at him—like he is not a weapon, not a thing made for war but a man—his throat closes around the words.

- “You got no idea what you’re doin’, darlin’,” he mutters, voice rough as gravel. And yet, when you smile, soft and knowing, when your fingers trail the faintest touch against his jaw before you step back, he knows you do. You know exactly what you’re doing. And for the first time in a very long time, Logan thinks—maybe—he could let someone love him. Maybe he could love them back.

Remy LeBeau

- Remy never expects to be caught off guard. He is a man who thrives in the game of unpredictability, who lives in the art of mischief and charm, who always has the upper hand. And yet, the moment your lips press against his, he forgets how to breathe. His hands, so used to sleight of hand and stolen treasures, falter at his sides. He could swear his heart stops beating, just for a second, just long enough for the world to tilt beneath his feet. He has been kissed before, a thousand times over, but never like this. Never by you.

- When the initial shock fades, he reacts like a man starved. His fingers find your waist, his body pressing flush against yours as if he could sink into you, disappear into this moment and never return. He tastes of spice and something sweeter, something sinful, and you realize—Remy LeBeau does not simply kiss. He devours. He worships. His lips move with the expertise of a thief, stealing the breath from your lungs, the steadiness from your limbs, and he does it all with a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

- He doesn’t let you pull away easily. Even when you try, his grip lingers, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours like a confession neither of you are ready to speak. His eyes, those crimson-burning embers, flicker over your face with a hunger that has nothing to do with the usual games he plays. “Ma belle,” he murmurs, voice like velvet, like the slow drag of a match before it sparks. “Y’gon’ be the death of me.” And yet, the way he smiles—half-dazed, half-drunk on you—tells you he would not mind dying that way.

- There is something dangerous in the way Remy looks at you now. Not the usual teasing, not the flirtation thrown so easily to the wind, but something deeper. Something reverent. As if he is looking at a gamble worth losing everything for. And as his fingers brush your jaw, tracing the ghost of your touch, you realize—you have just become the only game Remy LeBeau is willing to play for the rest of his life.

Kurt Wagner

- Kurt is not used to being touched so freely. Not like this. Not without hesitation. When your lips meet his, it is as if the world stutters around him, as if time itself takes pause to marvel at the impossible. His breath catches in his throat, a sharp, startled sound, and for the briefest moment, he forgets how to exist. His tail curls behind him in a sharp flick of surprise, and he nearly disappears in a reflex of instinct, but something about the warmth of your hands, the softness of your mouth, keeps him grounded. Keeps him here.

- When he finally gathers the courage to move, it is hesitant, unsure—his fingers hovering at your waist as if afraid to break something sacred. His lips, gentle, trembling with quiet reverence, move against yours like a whispered prayer. You are warmth, light, something divine in his arms, and he drinks you in like salvation. He has dreamt of this—secret, foolish dreams whispered into the lonely nights—but never dared believe it could be real. That you could want this as much as he does.

- When you part, his breath is unsteady, his golden eyes wide with wonder. He stares at you as if you have done the impossible, as if you have rewritten the very fabric of his existence with a single touch. His tail coils loosely around your wrist, a subconscious tether, as if to reassure himself that you are real. That this is real. “Mein Herz,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “What have you done to me?” And yet, the way he smiles—soft, awestruck—tells you he never wants to be undone by anyone else but you.

- He does not know how to ask for more. Does not know if he is allowed to. But when you lace your fingers with his, when you press the faintest of kisses to his cheek before stepping back, he knows—he would wait a lifetime for you to do it again. And again. And again.

Scott Summers

- Scott lives by control. He has spent his life suppressing, restraining, calculating every breath, every movement, every word, because one wrong step can mean disaster. But when you kiss him—without warning, without hesitation—every ounce of that control shatters. His entire body stiffens, breath stolen, mind racing with the sheer impossibility of what is happening. He has dreamed of this, a thousand different ways, but none of them prepared him for the reality of your lips against his.

- His hands—gloved, always careful, always distant—hover at your sides, caught between instinct and hesitation. He wants to touch you, wants to pull you closer, but the fear of losing control, of breaking something irreparable, holds him back. And yet, you do not waver. You kiss him like he is not a weapon, like he is not something dangerous, like he is just a man. And for the first time, Scott Summers allows himself to believe it.

- When you finally part, he exhales sharply, as if he has been holding his breath for years. His glasses slip slightly down his nose, and he pushes them up with a shaky hand, his fingers brushing against his lips as if trying to chase the ghost of your touch. “I—” His voice falters, rare uncertainty cracking through his carefully built walls. He swallows hard, eyes hidden but gaze heavy. “I wasn’t expecting that.” But there is something else in his tone, something just shy of desperate. He wasn’t expecting it—but now he wants more.

- You smile, tilting your head, studying him with a knowing softness that makes his stomach twist. “Would you like me to do it again?” The question is playful, teasing, but the heat that flares in his chest is anything but. He swallows down a million responses, a million emotions threatening to spill over, and simply nods. Because yes. Yes, he would. More than anything, he would.

Jean Grey

- Jean has always been attuned to the emotions of others. She feels them like echoes in her own mind, the soft hum of sorrow, the sharp sting of desire, the quiet weight of longing. But when your lips press against hers, she feels nothing but silence—beautiful, breathtaking silence. The world, usually so loud, so overwhelming, fades into something small, something insignificant. There is only the warmth of your mouth, the way your fingers tangle in the red silk of her hair, the way your heartbeat thrums against her own like a perfect melody.

- She gasps against you, not out of shock but something deeper—something fragile. She has lived lifetimes within the span of a single moment, has seen the past, present, and future weave together like a tapestry, but she never saw this. Never saw the way you would tilt the world on its axis with a single touch. Her hands, delicate yet unshakable, find your face, her thumbs tracing the shape of you as if committing you to memory. She knows, in the depths of her soul, that she will never forget this.

- When you finally pull away, she exhales a laugh—soft, breathless, incredulous. Her emerald eyes search yours, bright with something that flutters on the edge of joy and disbelief. “You—” She stops herself, biting her lip as if savoring the taste of you, as if reluctant to let it go. And then she shakes her head, a slow, knowing smile curling her lips. “You really are full of surprises.” There is a lightness in her tone, but beneath it, something deeper lingers. Something that tells you she does not want this to be a singular moment.

- And then, before you can respond, she leans in—this time, she is the one to steal the air from your lungs. The kiss is softer now, slower, but no less consuming. When she pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with your own. “I could get used to that,” she murmurs, voice warm as sunlight. And in the way she lingers, in the way she stays close, you know—she already has.

Ororo Munroe

- Ororo is a goddess, a tempest, a force of nature so powerful the very skies bend to her will. And yet, when you kiss her, she is caught in a storm she cannot control. Her breath catches, her usually poised frame stiffening for the briefest of moments as your lips mold against hers. She has always been the eye of the hurricane, calm amidst chaos, but now, she is swept away in a current she never anticipated.

- Her hands hover at your sides, unsure, not out of reluctance but reverence. To be loved by Ororo Munroe is to be touched by the divine, but for the first time, she does not feel like a goddess—she feels human. She feels the warmth of your skin, the way your fingers brush against her cheek, the way your lips move with something so tender it unravels her. The storm within her does not rage—it settles, it quiets, it softens into something resembling peace.

- When you finally part, her white lashes flutter against her cheeks, her breath uneven, her hands finally finding your waist as if to ground herself. She looks at you as if you have done the impossible, as if you have harnessed the wind and commanded the rain. And perhaps you have. Because for the first time in a long time, Ororo Munroe does not feel alone. “You surprise me,” she admits, her voice a whisper of thunder, low and full of something unreadable. “And I do not surprise easily.”

- A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, rare and breathtaking, the kind of smile that shifts the seasons. And then, with a gentleness that contradicts her power, she presses her forehead to yours, fingers threading through your hair. “Do it again,” she breathes, and there is something almost dangerous in the way she says it. Because now that she has tasted you, now that she has felt this, Ororo Munroe is not sure she could ever let it go.

Rogue

- Rogue has spent her entire life fearing touch. She has spent years mastering the art of distance, of longing from afar, of never letting herself hope for too much. And yet, when your lips meet hers—soft, unguarded, reckless—she forgets to be afraid. The world disappears in the space between heartbeats, and all that remains is the impossible, the breathtaking reality of you kissing her.

- Her mind screams at her to pull away, to stop this before it’s too late, before she ruins something beautiful. But she can’t. She won’t. Her gloved hands grasp at your arms, her body leaning into yours as if she has spent lifetimes waiting for this moment. And perhaps she has. Because for the first time, she isn’t thinking about control, about consequences. She is thinking about the way your lips feel against hers, the way your breath mingles with her own, the way your fingers press into the small of her back as if you could hold her together.

- When you part, her chest rises and falls in quick, uneven breaths, her wide green eyes searching yours with something almost desperate. “Sugar, you—” Her voice falters, thick with emotion, with something dangerously close to hope. Her fingers, still gloved, trace the ghost of your touch against her lips, and she swallows hard. “You don’t know what you just did.” But the way she looks at you—the way she stares as if you have rewritten the very fabric of her existence—tells you that maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t mind.

- She should be afraid. She should be pushing you away, telling you that this is dangerous, that she is dangerous. But when you smile at her, when you reach for her hand despite the barriers she wears, she feels something shift. Something new. Something she is not sure she deserves, but something she wants all the same. And for the first time, Rogue wonders—what if she let herself have this? What if, just this once, she didn’t run?

Erik Lehnsherr

- Erik has built his life around steel and rage, around vengeance and pain, around the belief that love is a weakness he cannot afford. And yet, when you kiss him, every wall he has so carefully constructed crumbles beneath the weight of your touch. He stiffens, a sharp inhale slicing through the space between you, his entire body wound tight like coiled metal, but he does not pull away. He does not stop you. Because for the first time in a long, long time—he doesn’t want to.

- Your lips move against his with a softness he does not deserve, a tenderness he has spent lifetimes denying himself. His hands twitch at his sides, hesitant, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer. But when your fingers tangle in his hair, when your breath mingles with his, when you kiss him like he is not Magneto, not a man shaped by war and loss, but simply a man—he is undone.

- When you finally part, his breath is heavy, uneven, his storm-gray eyes dark with something unreadable. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, as if restraining himself from reaching for you, from keeping you tethered to this moment forever. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he murmurs, voice like rusted iron, rough and laced with something dangerously close to yearning. But there is no real warning in his tone, no true resistance. Only the weight of a man who does not know how to accept kindness, how to accept love.

- And yet, when you step forward, when you press your palm to his chest, when you look at him as if he is not a monster but something worthy—his resolve fractures. His fingers, finally, finally, find your waist, his grip firm yet reverent, as if afraid you might disappear. “Do it again,” he breathes, and in that moment, Erik Lehnsherr does not care if love is a weakness. Because if this is what it means to be weak—then for you, he will gladly fall.

Charles Xavier

- Charles Xavier has spent his life knowing things before they happen. His gift is both a blessing and a burden, allowing him to read thoughts, anticipate words before they are spoken, sense feelings before they fully form. But when you kiss him, it is the first time in his life that he is truly, utterly surprised. For once, his mind is not a step ahead—it is caught in the moment, helplessly, beautifully ensnared in the warmth of your lips and the gentle insistence of your touch.

- His breath stutters as you tilt into him, the world narrowing to the space between your bodies. He has always prided himself on his composure, on the unshakable calm of his demeanor, but now he feels undone. Your lips are soft but certain, as if you have known this moment was meant to happen all along. His hands twitch against the arms of his wheelchair, caught between instinct and disbelief, between wanting to pull you closer and simply letting himself exist in this quiet, impossible wonder.

- When you finally pull away, his blue eyes flutter open, dazed, unfocused, as though waking from a dream too precious to be real. A slow smile tugs at the corner of his lips, something warm and unreadable flickering behind his gaze. “That was unexpected,” he murmurs, voice like velvet, smooth but slightly unsteady. And yet, there is something else beneath his words, something deeper—an unspoken truth that has lingered between you for too long, now given breath at last.

- He reaches for your hand then, his fingers ghosting over yours in a way that is both hesitant and reverent. “Would you mind terribly,” he breathes, his smile deepening, “if I returned the favor?” And when he leans in, when his lips find yours again, there is nothing hesitant about it. There is only the weight of time, of longing, of something that was always meant to be.

Wanda Maximoff

- Wanda has spent her life walking the fragile line between control and chaos, between the known and the unknown, between the world as it is and the world as it could be. And yet, when you kiss her, all of it—the noise, the worry, the restless ache of her existence—disappears. There is only you. Only the impossible softness of your lips, only the warmth of your touch, only the way time seems to slow, to bend, to hold its breath for her.

- She does not pull away, does not tense, does not question. Instead, she melts into you, her fingers curling into the fabric of your clothing as if afraid you might slip through her grasp like so many things before. You taste like something she has spent lifetimes reaching for, something she has never quite believed she could have. And yet, here you are. Here she is. And for once, the world does not seem so cruel.

- When the kiss finally breaks, she does not move far. Her forehead lingers against yours, her breath mingling with your own as if unwilling to let go of the moment just yet. Her deep, sorrowful eyes search yours, dark with something unreadable—something aching, something vast. “You shouldn’t do things like that,” she whispers, and yet her fingers tighten their grip on you, betraying her own words. “It makes me want to believe in things I shouldn’t.”

- And yet, despite her protest, despite the ghosts that haunt her, Wanda does not step away. Instead, she tilts her head, studying you as if memorizing every detail, every curve, every fleeting second. And then, as if deciding something only she can understand, she kisses you again—slower this time, softer, as if weaving a spell that neither of you will ever escape.

Pietro Maximoff

- Pietro Maximoff moves faster than thought, faster than light, faster than anyone can keep up with. He is a blur, a flicker, a storm that never settles, never stills. But when you kiss him—when you reach for him without hesitation, without warning—time stops. For once, he is not ahead of the world. He is not running. He is simply here. And it terrifies him.

- His entire body locks up, caught between instinct and shock, between the urge to retreat and the unbearable need to lean in. No one ever catches him off guard—no one. But you? You have done it so effortlessly, so completely, that he feels as though you have stolen the breath from his lungs. He forgets to move, forgets to think, forgets everything except the way your lips press against his, the way your fingers grasp at him like you have no intention of letting go.

- When you finally pull back, his silver lashes flutter, his bright blue eyes wide, wild with something unreadable. “Did you just—” He stops himself, swiping his tongue over his lips as if to make sure the sensation is real. And then, suddenly, he laughs—a breathless, incredulous sound, full of something sharp and breathless. “You’re either very brave or very reckless,” he murmurs, voice tinged with something teasing, something warmer than he meant it to be. “Maybe both.”

- And yet, even as he tries to turn it into a joke, his fingers twitch at his sides, restless, uncertain. He has never been good at staying still, never been good at patience—but for you, for this, he thinks he could learn. “Do it again,” he says, grinning now, eyes glinting with something wicked, something real. “I dare you.” And the way he looks at you—the way he leans in, as if already chasing the next kiss—tells you that this is a dare neither of you ever plan to back down from.

Hank McCoy

- Hank McCoy is a man of intellect, of reason, of science. He has spent his life in pursuit of knowledge, in understanding the mysteries of the world through logic and deduction. But when you kiss him—when your lips press against his without preamble, without hesitation—there is nothing logical about it. His mind, so accustomed to analysis, simply stops. And for the first time in a long, long time, he is left with nothing but feeling.

- His breath hitches, a sharp inhale caught in the depths of his chest, his large hands flexing at his sides as if unsure what to do with them. He is a scholar, a thinker, a man who prides himself on his control—but here, now, he feels unmoored. Your touch is warmth against the cold edges of his mind, a spark that ignites something deep, something unexpected, something he cannot name.

- When you finally pull away, he does not move for a long moment. His blue eyes flicker with something complex, something vulnerable, something profoundly, devastatingly human. “That was… unexpected,” he finally says, voice rough with something you cannot quite place. And yet, despite his words, despite the shock that lingers in his expression, his gaze is soft when it meets yours, unbearably gentle.

- He exhales a slow breath, as if steadying himself, and then—almost tentatively—he reaches for your hand. His fingers are careful, cautious, as if afraid you might vanish like a fleeting hypothesis unproven. “Would you, perhaps, consider repeating the experiment?” he asks, a small, wry smile curling at the edges of his lips. And when you lean in again, when his hands finally settle against you with quiet certainty, you know this is an experiment he never intends to abandon.

Emma Frost

- Emma Frost has spent a lifetime ensuring that no one can touch her—not truly. Her mind is a fortress of diamond walls and razor-edged wit, a citadel where no one is allowed entry without permission. She does not startle easily; she does not allow herself to be vulnerable. And yet, when you kiss her—when your lips press against hers without warning, without hesitation—she falters. Just for a moment. Just long enough for you to feel it.

- Her breath catches, but she does not pull away. No, Emma Frost does not retreat. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, allowing you just enough room to linger, to taste the cool, intoxicating sharpness of her. And yet, there is warmth beneath the ice, a slow-burning ember hidden beneath layers of frost. She is calculating even in this, assessing, analyzing—but there is something else in the way her fingers twitch against your arm, something unspoken in the way her lips part ever so slightly beneath yours.

- When you finally pull back, her expression is unreadable, a perfect mask of composure—except for her eyes. There is something dangerous in them, something bright and wicked and amused. A slow, knowing smile curls her lips as she tilts her chin, regarding you with the kind of gaze that makes people weak in the knees. “My darling,” she purrs, voice like silk and steel entwined, “if you wanted me, you only had to ask.”

- And yet, when her fingers brush against your wrist—light, fleeting, almost imperceptible—it is not just a challenge. There is something softer beneath the bravado, something she will never admit aloud. You have surprised her. And Emma Frost does not allow herself to be surprised. So when she leans in again, this time on her own terms, you understand the weight of it—the rarity, the quiet surrender hidden beneath the smirk.

Laura Kinney

- Laura Kinney is not accustomed to softness. Her world has been forged in blood and survival, in the quiet brutality of necessity. She has been trained to anticipate every attack, every shift in movement, every threat before it even takes form. But when you kiss her, there is no time to predict, no time to react—only the moment, sudden and unrelenting. And for once in her life, she is caught off guard.

- Her body stiffens on instinct, muscles coiled tight, but she does not pull away. No, she stays still, frozen in place as if trying to process something unfamiliar, something she has no protocol for. Your lips are soft against hers, warm and sure, and for a brief second, she forgets to breathe. It is foreign, this feeling, this intimacy that is not laced with violence or pain. And yet, it does not feel wrong. It feels… safe. And she does not know what to do with that.

- When you finally pull back, she blinks up at you, her gold-green eyes wide, pupils blown. Her breath is uneven, though she would never admit it. Her fingers flex at her sides, a silent battle between instinct and something deeper, something softer. “Why did you do that?” she asks, voice low, guarded. But there is no anger in it, no sharp edges of rejection. Only quiet curiosity. Only the echo of something she is too afraid to name.

- And then, as if deciding something in that precise moment, she steps closer. Not much, just enough for her breath to brush against your cheek. Her gaze flickers down to your lips, and when she speaks again, it is almost hesitant—almost shy. “Do it again.” It is not a request. It is a challenge. And when you accept, when your lips find hers once more, she does not freeze this time. Instead, she leans in.

Wade Wilson

- Wade Wilson never shuts up. He fills the air with words, with jokes, with carefully crafted chaos designed to keep people at arm’s length. He is quick and loud and relentless, because silence is where the darkness creeps in, where the thoughts become too heavy, too real. But when you kiss him—when you press your lips against his without preamble, without warning—he falls completely, utterly silent.

- His mind goes blank. It is a rare thing, for Wade to be lost for words, for thoughts, for anything but the sheer, staggering reality of this moment. Your lips are soft against his, warm, steady, real. And for once, he is not a punchline, not a joke, not a monster wrapped in red and black. He is just Wade, just a man who is suddenly, unexpectedly being kissed by someone he never thought would want to.

- When you pull back, there is a beat of absolute stillness. Then, suddenly, he sucks in a sharp breath and blurts out, “Was that a pity kiss? Wait, no, don’t answer that. Actually, do answer that. But lie to me if it was. Unless it wasn’t. In which case—” He stops himself, blinking rapidly, his gloved fingers twitching at his sides. “Holy shit. You actually kissed me. I didn’t hallucinate that, right? Because, like, my brain is super messed up, and sometimes I—”

- But then, you kiss him again—shorter this time, softer, just enough to shut him up. And when you pull away, he just stares at you, his mouth slightly open, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. And then, slowly, his hands come up to his face, covering his mouth as if trying to hold something in. “Oh my God,” he whispers, voice slightly muffled. “I’m gonna have to marry you now.” He peeks between his fingers. “You cool with that? No take-backs.”

Julian Keller

- Julian Keller is not used to being caught off guard. He is sharp, quick-witted, arrogant to a fault, and always, always in control. People orbit around him, drawn in by the effortless gravity of his confidence, his charm, the raw, unapologetic force of his presence. But when you kiss him—when you take him by surprise for the first time in his life—his mind goes completely, devastatingly blank.

- For a split second, he doesn’t react. And then, his body catches up with him, his hands instinctively reaching for you, gripping your waist like an anchor. His breath stutters against your lips, and suddenly, he is no longer the Julian Keller who always knows what to say, who always has the upper hand. He is just a boy, completely and utterly at your mercy. And it thrills him.

- When you finally pull back, his lips are parted, his green eyes slightly dazed, like he’s trying to piece together reality again. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face—wide, cocky, but with something undeniably genuine beneath it. “Damn,” he breathes, running a hand through his dark hair, voice rougher than usual. “That was… unexpected.” His grin sharpens, his gaze flicking to your lips. “You gonna warn me next time, or is this just how you say hi now?”

- And yet, despite the teasing, despite the bravado, there is something else in his gaze—something that lingers, something that betrays just how much that single kiss affected him. He leans in again, close enough that his breath fans against your skin. “You know,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “if you wanted my attention, there were easier ways.” But the way he looks at you—the way his fingers curl slightly, as if resisting the urge to pull you back in—tells you that, despite his words, he wouldn’t change a thing.

[changisworld]

remii ive been THINKING lately......................... You and jisung at a gathering and he gets so overwhelmed both of you lock yourselves in the bathroom so that he can relax 💔 my poor babyyyy

But then he looks up at you with those angelic eyes and brings up his hand to toy with the hem of ur waistband AND AND brings his other hand to grip ur waist and looks back up at you with that same stare and like pulls u to him and he's face to face with ur tummy just below ur belly button ANDDDDD snuggles right there and yeah and starts PLEADING to eat u out because that shit makes him extremely relaxed so u he does it as ur fingers play with his hair oh my godddd im so whipped for him these days

- 🪫

STAWP THIS NOWNOWNOWNOWONWWIBFHFIF

->I'm SOSSOSO sorry this has been hiding away in my asks for WEEEKS i've read it a billion times & I completely forgot to actually write it cuz u described it so well</3

main masterlist here

You've just lured Han to Chan's dorm bathroom after you could tell your poor boyfriends social battery was running low especially with Jeongin teasing him & Hyunjin taking it upon himself to ruffle his hair just seconds after he puts his grey beanie back on

"We can go home if you want Sungie, I can just say I vomited or something so they won't question us leaving!" you lightly joke, softly giggling to him but he doesn't verbally respond, instead just walking your frame backwards until your behind hits against the sink & granite counter before he nestles his face in your neck, murmuring to himself.

You try make out what he is trying or what you think he is trying to say, but your question is pretty much answered before you even ask it as you feel his slightly chubby fingers trying to dig their way past your denim shorts & into your panties.

"Sungie, not when your members are right down the hall" you murmur, not any discipline in your voice at all as you do nothing to stop him, your legs parting a smidge to try give him better access.

"Just wanna taste you, please just lemme eat you out, I'll feel way better I swear" he whimpers, looking up at you as he slides down until his knees hit the floor, face level with your lower tummy, his boba eyes shiny as he is already undoing the button on your shorts, shuffling them down your legs & you subconsciously help him, pretty much forgetting what you had quite literally just said.

"Won't get caught, I'll be quick, promise!" he whimpers as he lets you swing a leg onto his shoulder, your shorts & you random white underwear with the writing 'wednesday' written on it which you usually use as period underwear, which of course, Jisung also finds oddly attractive.

"Sungie we only have like five minutes, if you're too loud I'll pull you away" you tease looking down at him, his eyes not looking back up at you as he is too busy admiring your cunt, spreading your folds in a 'V' shape before digging in, not wasting any time in trying to tease you & all of the drool that was pooling up in his mouth is transferred onto your already wet folds, kissing your folds before instantly wrapping his puffy lips around your clit & you throw your head back.

He is swirling his tongue around your clit as his lips are engulfing the button & he is quick to bring two fingers to your folds & he spreads your wetness for a quick second before he slips two into you, setting a quick pace the second you stop clenching from the intrusion & your fingers weave into his hair & you can't help but tug on it, dying for even more than he is already doing despite it pretty much not being possible but it just feels too good.

Jisung is groaning & whimpering at your taste & he brings his other hand & starts palming himself over his sweatpants & you can't help but let out small whimpers, trying to hold your breath to stop any louder sounds escaping your lips but the sound of his tongue & fingers glued to your pussy are making squelching noises that can probably be heard by anyone if they were to walk past.

"Sungie, right there, gonna cum" you rasp, using your strength to force yourself o loom down at him, his gorgeous eyes already looking right up at you & as you both make eye contact, you can feel him smirking around you as his fingers speed up on his motion & you can't stop yourself from cumming right then & there, the ecstasy shooting up your spine as the leg you're using to stand almost gives out.

Jisung lets you come down from your high before standing up & you're quick to lean in & kiss him, tasting yourself. "We actually do need to go now so I'll take you up on what you said before, I came in my fucking pants" he chuckles before helping you fix your hair, both of you giggling like children.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

REMY!!! REMYYYYYY

"Beyond Misconceptions" is EXACTLY what I needed today oh my GOD my anxiety has been acting up and this was such a tonic 🥹

The fact that Joaquin is the kind of lover to truly and selflessly go "if you'd be better off with someone else, then I want that for you even though it would break my heart" but then he is so comforted I'M CRYING I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC SO MUCH

Also, bc you said requests are open, if it's not too much to ask... could we maybe get something where Joaquin is very serious about reader and wants to introduce her to Sam and has a convo w Sam about how he feels? Idk if that's too sappy ofc you don't have to im just swooning thinking about it 👀 - ips anon

Between Sips

about this: wc: 658, characters: joaquin torres, sam wilson (f!reader mentioned), contents: alcohol mention, canon typical injury, joaquin’s a simp, SAMBUCKY if you squint, an: hope u enjoy this my sweet love & as always thank you for your support! <3

danny ramirez characters masterlist

Joaquin stands up from his desk, walking across the room to plop down on Sam’s. “Hey, come get a drink with me.”

“Man, I’m going home. To bed. You see this?” Sam points to the sling his arm is in.

Joaquin raises a brow at him, “What if I add in pizza?”

“Dude—“

“I wanna tell you about my girl. Please?” He presses his palms together, pleading. 

“Oh now you wanna tell me about your girl? After I’ve got a couple of broken ribs?”

Joaquin tries to bite away his grin but can’t. “You getting the shit beat out of you kinda made me realize I want you to meet her.”

“Little shit— you’re getting me dessert too,” Sam grumbles, grabbing his bag and heading toward the door. 

“That late night cookie place is right across the street,” Joaquin calls after him.

—

Sam watches Joaquin fidget with a smirk on his face. He’s never really seen the man like this, he’s always overly confident. “So, you gonna stall until the food gets here to stall again or—“

Joaquin’s grip on his beer tightens as he gazes down into the amber liquid. “Nah, man. I just, I don’t know— I’ve never met anyone like her before.”

Sam sobers a little bit, realizing how serious Joaquin is. Sitting up, he leans in a little, curious.

“Tell me more.”

Joaquin takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “It was kinda random, y’know? One of those things where you meet someone and think, this person might change my damn life.”

Sam raises a skeptical brow, waiting.

“I met her on a mission—nothing crazy, just some intel work. She clocked me right away, which should’ve been my first clue she was special.” Joaquin huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. 

“She’s got this way of looking at me, like she already knows what I’m gonna say before I say it. And she’s funny, man. Not just funny—sharp. Quick with it. Keeps me on my toes. But she’s also… sweet. Kind in a way that doesn’t ask for anything back. And when I’m with her, it’s like—” He stops, searching for the words.

Sam tilts his head. “Like what?”

Joaquin’s grip tightens on the beer again. “Like I don’t have to be anyone but me.”

Sam lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Joaquin laughs, feeling a little shy. “Yeah. Damn.”

“Can I see her?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Joaquin fishes out his wallet, pulling out the photo booth film strip he keeps there. 

Four photos, all of them where he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you— not when you were looking so angelic. Looking at the photo along with Sam makes him miss you more right now. 

“Oh, she’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“I…I would do anything for her. I think anything, for real.”

“Would she do the same?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Sam nods, taking a pull of his beer. “And have you told her yet?”

“Told her what?”

“That you’re in love with her.”

Joaquin’s cheeks warm. He scratches at the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “Was hoping you could give me some pointers?”

Sam sighs. “Maybe I can finally give you some after this weekend.”

“Finally gonna tell him, huh?”

“Yeah, I think it’s about time. He’s got a weekend off appearances, we don’t have a mission. I don’t know,” Sam shrugs, letting his eyes drift to the mounted tv screen playing an old sports game. 

“It’ll be perfect man. Just be yourself.”

Sam scoffs playfully, his eyes returning to Joaquin. “How’d you end up giving me pointers?”

Joaquin shimmies his shoulders. “Must be the natural leader in me.”

“Yeah, yeah. So when am I meeting her?”

“I don’t know, let me pull up our calendar,” Joaquin starts to type in his password, scrolling through the date. 

“Our calendar? As in your shared calendar with her?”

“Fuck off.”

Sam can’t stop laughing. “I can’t wait to tell Buck.”

lmk if you'd like to be on the sfw (or nsfw for 18+) joaquin taglist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @moonymeloncholymoney, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7

[greghatecrimes]

ok ok ok so with all the new foreteen love (platonic) i have had a thought rotating in my brain

in a universe where house dies with wilson, thirteen chase and foreman become a unit (probably with choreman lets be real), maybe thirteen comes back to ppth or just comes and goes, chase and thirteen sibling bonding, thirteen and foreman figuring out that actually, this is much better than trying to date, the boys taking care of thirteen as her huntingtons progresses

idk i just like the idea of them sticking together post-house and creating their own odd little family

⚡️

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH😭 This is absolutely the best thing that could happen if House were to die with Wilson. Also imagine if Thirteen and Amy are still together and she becomes part of the family too? Two happy couples, Chase-Thirteen siblings, Foreteen besties, Thirteen doesn't have to worry about Amy struggling to take care of her as her Huntington's progresses b/c Chase and Foreman are there. So in the meantime the four of them can just enjoy their time together as a little family🥺🥺🥺

[bsdfeedings]

Kunikida and Chuuya feeding Dazai, Chuuya makes sure he’s always full at home and Kunikida makes sure he’s full at work. They tag team feeding him and rubbing his belly and showering him with attention and letting him know how cute he looks with his big round tummy, and plush thighs, and soft chubby cheeks

aaahhh I love Kunichuzai so much you don't even know!!!! It is the Dazai ship for me <3

it's such a good pairing to throw some feedism into!!!

This would be absolute heaven for Dazai. Chuuya and Kunikida would never let their boy feel hungry in the slightest because, oh, he's positively wasting away, and they're just trying to keep him well-fed. His tummy would be stuffed full all the time, and yet his partners would always insist on feeding him more. Who is he to decline? The attention feels good.

He would balloon so quickly with the both of them feeding him, I know it ❤ Getting so deliciously big because of them <3

[inkievoid]

An answered prayer || K. Wagner x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Content Warning: Christmas stuff, fluff and a sprinkle of jealous Kurt

Words: 1.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request, I believe? Might have Lost a name on accident, oopsies... Enjoy <3 And Happy Holidays!!!

Christmas, what a wonderful time of year. The fire's lit, holiday music playing as the rest of the team enjoys the annual party and secret Santa exchange. Holding his own gift from his dear sister in his lap. Trying to focus on anything but the sight he's transfixed on.

He's supposed to be blue, feeling the sharp green of envy pulling at the edges of his being as he stares down their leader. Grinning wide as he hands over your gift. Watching you rip away at the shiny silver wrapping paper across the common room, hearing you loudly gasp.

Probably something practical and thoughtful... Typical Scott.

And now you're gushing over some stupid cable-knit sweater as you put it to your front. Pulling Scott into a tight embrace as he, albeit awkwardly, hugs you back with a tight smile. Kurt can feel his brows pin together, tail flicking against his own calves in irritation. He knows he has no real right to be jealous. You're not his. Not officially, at least.

You're aware of each other's feelings and have been on a few dates even. But with his duties to the council in Genosha, he hardly gets to see you unless it's fairly important or the occasional time off. Which, obviously, he hates, holding a candle for you for the longest time now.

Kurt sighs, turning his attention back to the fire, arms crossed over his chest as he takes in the dancing flames in the fireplace as everyone buzzes around him. The sound of the party makes it hard to think of anything but your smile crossing his mind.

Sighing, he stands from the couch, heading outside into the cold. Standing out on the back step of the mansion. Looking across the beautiful blanket of fresh white snow just fallen earlier that morning. The inky night sky filled with stars for once over the trees.

That feeling of jealousy still not leaving him. Heart beating against his chest as he takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes as his hands pressed together, a huff of cloudy air escaping him as he softly prayed to himself.

"Heavenly Father, give me the strength to resist the temptation of jealousy. Help me to trust in Your plan and to find contentment in Your provision... She knows not what she does to me, and I know a devil like me isn't supposed to ask for anything... But all I want is her... Bless my friends, bless my dear family, and please, Lord, bless mein Schatz. Amen."

The door creaks open behind him, yellow eyes cutting through the darkness as he looks back to see you standing at the door, arm behind your back with that sweet smile he's come to love.

"Am I interrupting something?" You ask softly, a half smile coming to his lips as he shakes his head, waving you to come outside.

Coming out, you close the door gently, stepping over to him with a quiet kind of grace. Silence filling the air as you both look out into the night sky. So close together, you can feel Kurt's body heat from just being next to him.

It's now or never...

Clearing your throat, you meet his eyes, moving your arm from behind your back. A cute little bag with two kids building a snowman together hanging off your fingers. Blue, sparkling tissue paper billowing from the top with a tiny tag hanging from the handle.

"Merry Christmas..." He looks a little dumbfounded, looking down at the bag before taking it in his palms.

"My sister, she... gave me a gift already?" You chuckle with a nod.

"I know, I got Remy for the Secret Santa. Gave him this really nice deck of cards I found when we had a mission overseas a few weeks ago, but I wanted to give you something too... Special people deserve special gifts." He thanked God in that moment; it was dark out, and you'd see his entire face turn purple as he blushed.

"I... didn't get you anything." You just shrug, not honestly caring about it in the long run.

"My gift can be the look on your face when you open yours. Come on." You nudge the side of the bag, making him look it over. Taking note of how you crossed out "from" on the attached card and wrote "love" instead. Making his stomach do an involuntary flip. Moving the tissue paper away, he pulls out a flat square box, glancing up at you with a small scoff.

"This isn't going to be dozens of tiny boxes, is it?" You tap his shoulder with a roll of your eyes.

"Just open it!" He smiles, pulling the lid away. Face falling as the dim light catches the shiny silver circle pendant. A piece of ivory in the middle with their initials engraved together. He feels his chest tighten, looking up into your eyes in shock.

"I thought it would look good next to your rosary... And you always talk about how we don't get enough time together... Now I can be with you all the time in some way." His eyes fall back to the box, quickly pulling out the necklace and inspecting it closer.

"This... This is beautiful. And so thoughtful..."

"Well, it's just something I thought you needed... Plus, I... I've been wanting to talk to you about something." His eyes shoot back up to you. Looking into your eyes with a hint of disbelief.

"About what?"

"Us." His eyes widen, mouth opening like a fish as you close the gap, pressing your hand to his cheek with an affectionate stroke of your thumb.

"You mean so much to me, Kurt, and it's been killing me to not... Be with you. I miss you constantly and can't stop thinking about you all the time." His free hand drifts over yours on his cheek with a content sigh.

"I can't stop thinking about you either... I don't want you to think that it's necessary for us to be together if we're—" You silence him, kissing him with a tender touch he's never felt before. His head tilts, pressing into you, hand traveling to snake his arm around your waist. Pulling you even closer to his warm frame with a fondness he could only hold for you.

Lips separate, the shared warmth between you almost suffocating to a degree.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that, mein Schatz... Merry Christmas." Leaning back in, your lips connect briefly before there's a bang at the door, making you both nearly jump out of your skin.

It's Gambit at the door with a grin on his face, Rogue behind him with a soft giggle as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Quickly you turn away from their prying eyes, feeling your face heat up as the thick Cajun drawl pours through the glass.

"Dinner's on the table, lovebirds! Time's ticking' before Cyclops has that aneurysm if you two don't move." He laughs before walking back towards the dining room, arm around Rogue as they disappear. You sigh, rubbing your cheeks to make the heat go away, Kurt only smiling wider as he slips his present box back in the bag. Holding up the necklace, he gives it one last look before turning your face back to look at his.

"Could you help me put this on so I can show my gift to everyone, mein Schatz?"

All content on this page is fictional and I do not condone the acts I enjoy in a fictional sense. I don't consent to my work being reposted or translated.