… Ororo Munroe (Storm)
The rain started falling slowly — soft, like a silk veil, soaking the Institute gardens in silence.
Ororo stood on her balcony, watching the sky, feeling every drop on her face like a reminder. A reminder that the world outside was always shifting — and she was too.
The conversation with Emma and Charles still echoed in her head.
That name wasn't just a name anymore. It had become an anchor in the chaos. A mystery wrapped in sarcasm and charm, a power that didn't fit any known category. A mutant without an X-Gene. A boy with access to a growing list of impossible abilities. But above all… a boy who chose to care.
He didn't make promises. Didn't brag about what he did behind the scenes. And yet, his actions spoke louder than anyone else's.
He stood up for the girls. Gave the team vital intel about the future of mutantkind. Gave Rogue a future where she didn't have to fear herself. And Jean… well, there was something there even Ororo couldn't name— but it was intense.
And still, he looked at her like he saw her. Past the teacher, the fighter, the goddess of the skies.
And the worst part?
She wanted to be seen.
Not as a symbol. As a woman.
This wasn't about resistance anymore.
It was about surrender.
Ororo had always been in control. The storms, the students, even her own heart. But Aidan had this strange ability to make all that control feel… unnecessary.
And now, as raindrops slid down the glass, she got it: there was no point in fighting anymore.
Pretending she was on the outside of this was pointless. She'd already fallen deep and was tired of hanging onto the edge, pretending she could climb back up.
She wanted what she felt. She wanted Aidan.
And this time… it wouldn't be the teacher making the right decision.
It would be the woman.
…
Aidan was sitting on the couch in the East Wing hallway, black T-shirt snug across his chest, legs stretched out, playing on his phone and laughing at a message that probably wasn't safe to read out loud.
That's when he felt it.
Ororo didn't have to say a word. She didn't announce herself — but he saw her coming down the hallway.
Her steps were slow. Measured.
Aidan lowered his phone and looked up with that half-smile he always wore when he knew exactly what was about to happen.
"Did I do something wrong, or are you just here to punish me just in case?" he teased, voice low — a whisper that messed with her head, sweet and smooth.
Ororo stopped in front of him. Her brown skin glowed under the soft hallway lights, white hair falling loose around her shoulders, and her eyes…
Her eyes left no room for doubt.
"I don't want to pretend I can stay away from you anymore."
Aidan raised an eyebrow, still sitting.
"Just like that? Gotta warn you— there's no going back on this side, Storm."
She leaned down. Knelt between his legs, hands resting on his knees, face close enough for their breath to mix.
"I've already gone too far to think about going back."
He stared at her for a second, like he was reading between the lines. Searching for something.
Then he smiled.
Not smug.
Something deeper.
"Then surrender to the dark side, my love."
Ororo ignored the line that tried to break the mood and stood up. Aidan pulled her in by the waist, their bodies meeting like they'd been waiting for it since the start.
And then came the kiss.
The kind of kiss you give when you know exactly what you want — and you're ready to take it.
Right there, in the middle of the mansion. With everything she'd built as a teacher, a fighter, a symbol…
Ororo Munroe chose to just be a woman.
Their mouths met with more intention than urgency, like they both knew this wasn't a detour — it was the beginning of something bigger.
But when her hands slid under Aidan's shirt, feeling the taut lines of muscle beneath the fabric, he murmured against her lips, "Let's go somewhere else…"
Before she could ask, everything around them shifted.
Like a breath bent reality.
A change in the air — and then, the floor changed.
Wood panels. Dim lights. The familiar walls of his room.
Ororo blinked.
"Teleportation?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Aidan gave a half-smile, eyes gleaming with that playful spark.
"Advanced application of the Limitless", he said, voice full of pride and charm. "You asked for intensity, didn't you?"
Ororo let out a soft, warm laugh.
"You really are full of surprises."
He stepped toward her — but she lifted a hand.
"No. Now… I'm the one leading."
The shift in her posture was subtle — but powerful.
Ororo took over the space like it belonged to her.
She circled Aidan, fingers trailing across the fabric of his shirt, until she stood behind him. Then her hands slid around to the front, pulling his shirt up.
"Take it off."
He obeyed, lifting his arms so she could undress him slowly.
She let her eyes roam across his bare chest like she was studying a work of art, then touched him lightly — tracing his muscles, feeling the heat radiating off his skin.
Aidan let out a soft breath but stayed quiet, watching her.
Ororo leaned in, her lips brushing the center of his chest, then his neck, then his jaw. Soft, drawn-out kisses. Like she wanted to memorize every inch before moving on.
"You've got girls throwing themselves at you, Aidan", she murmured between kisses. "Girls who want your hands, your attention. But I'm a woman— and tonight, I want you to know what that means."
Aidan looked at her for a beat, then nodded — almost reverently.
Ororo stepped back just enough to pull off her top. She wore nothing underneath. Her breasts — full, natural, beautiful like the sky she commanded — were bare. Her dark skin, strong and feminine, gave off heat.
"Lie down."
Her voice wasn't a request. It was a gentle order. The kind that came from years of knowing exactly who she was.
He did as told.
Laid back on the bed, eyes locked on her with a mix of hunger and awe. Aidan was used to being in control, but with Ororo, he let her lead — like the shift in power amused him.
And everything with Aidan was about fun.
She started undoing his belt slowly, with the elegance of someone who knew exactly what every movement was doing to him. When she pulled down his pants and saw him already hard under his boxers, she raised an eyebrow with a sly smile.
"Mmm~ At least it matches the ego."
Aidan just smirked, his blue eyes fixed on her.
Ororo leaned down, kissing his abs, her tongue sliding in a slow, straight line — like a promise.
Then, she climbed on top.
Sank down onto him with full control, letting out a soft moan as she took in every inch. Her heat wrapped around him, slick and warm, pulling him in deep.
Aidan's head dropped back onto the pillow. His hands instinctively reached for her waist — but she caught them.
"I said… just feel me."
Ororo started to move, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles — sensual, almost cruel in their precision.
She wasn't here to ask.
She was here to leave a mark.
And Aidan… was being marked.
With every grind of her hips, every moan that slipped out of her lips, she brought him closer to the edge.
In that moment, she was his whole world.
Because right then, Ororo wasn't just the goddess of the skies.
She was the storm made in flesh.
And she wasn't just another woman.
She knew that in the emotional chaos Aidan stirred up everywhere he went, there was a fine line between being remembered and being lived.
And she intended to be lived.
"You like this?" she asked, voice rough with desire and dominance as she sank down on him slowly, taking all of him.
"I like everything about you", he said with a lopsided grin, pupils blown wide with need.
She smiled too, and the kiss came naturally.
Their tongues met without hesitation. No sweetness — just want.
She leaned forward, pressing her body against his, her breasts flush against his chest as she picked up the pace.
Aidan let out a low groan against her mouth.
She loved that.
Seeing him — that annoyingly confident man wrapped in power and sarcasm — lose himself under her.
Ororo started riding him faster. The wet sound of their bodies echoed through the room. The bed creaked under their rhythm, hips slamming into each other harder with every thrust.
She felt him grow even harder inside her.
"Ororo…" he groaned, voice low and almost reverent.
She hushed him with a finger to his lips.
"Not yet~" she whispered, her smile sharp. "You're gonna hold it. I'm not done showing you how a woman loves a man."
Then she shifted her hips — changed the angle — and pulled a deep grunt from his chest.
She squeezed around him, tight, pulsing, milking sounds from him that no one else had ever heard.
Ororo tossed her head back, her body shaking as her climax built. It was hot — like lightning flashing from her core to her spine.
She moaned his name — soft and breathy.
And when she came, it was like a storm breaking open: her whole body trembled, fingers digging into his chest, eyes shut tight, mouth parted in bliss.
Aidan moved on instinct. Grabbed her waist — and flipped them in one fluid motion.
She landed beneath him, letting out a soft, breathless laugh.
"Lost control, Mr. Quinn?"
"Just enough to finish the way you deserve."
Then he started to move.
Hard and deep.
Every thrust hit exactly where it should. The pressure perfect. The sound of his body slamming into hers filled the room like rhythmic thunder.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in tighter.
Now he was taking her with the same intensity he used in battle.
But here, right now… it was all about her.
Ororo.
The woman.
The goddess.
And when he came inside her, groaning her name through clenched teeth, his body shaking — she held him tight.
Both of them sweaty, breathless, their bodies pressed together, hearts pounding in sync.
Ororo kissed his temple, then closed her eyes.
That night, she wasn't the storm.
She was home.
And Aidan… was the peace no war could ever steal from her.
… Gwen Stacy
School felt louder that Monday. Not because of the students or the usual chatter, but because of what was underneath it all.
The whispers, the glances. Names being tossed around in voices pretending to be casual.
Aidan. MJ. The party.
Gwen heard it all before she even walked into the building. The sophomore girls were already speculating like it was some tabloid drama. One of them even had a screenshot of MJ's story — a photo in the car, just her legs and the blurred shadow of a face next to her. But you didn't need to be a genius to recognize that smile.
And Aidan… the bastard had shown up today. Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just disappeared from school the entire previous week. He strolled through the hallways with that lazy walk, shirt untucked, tie loose, that smirk on his lips. A couple teachers pretended not to notice, probably because his grades were too good to bother with.
But Gwen wasn't looking for him.
She needed to talk to Peter.
She found him at his locker, stacking books like his life depended on it.
"Hey."
Peter turned slightly, visibly uncomfortable.
"Gwen… hey."
"Can we talk?"
He hesitated — and that was already the first mistake.
They walked to one of the side paths of the school, half hidden by some bushes near the practice courts. She stood in front of him, arms crossed.
"So… what happened?"
Peter ran a hand through his hair.
"I… got caught up. Something came up last minute."
"Something."
"Yeah…"
"Seriously, Peter? Not even a text. Nothing. You disappeared and didn't say a word after that."
He exhaled, eyes dropping to the ground.
"I couldn't explain."
"Couldn't or didn't want to?"
The question hung in the air.
Peter looked torn — stuck between speaking and running. But, like always… he chose not to answer.
And that silence hurt more than any wrong answer would have.
"Okay", she said finally, stepping back. "If you can't be honest with me, then there's no point in trying to figure out what this even is."
She turned and walked away before he could say anything.
Because she knew that if she stayed even one more second, all she'd get was another lie.
Or worse… nothing.
...
The dining hall was a mess.
Nothing unusual — people talking too loud, trays clattering, food that was clearly past its prime. But today, one person stood out in the middle of the chaos: Mary Jane Watson.
Gwen spotted her from a distance, surrounded by a group of girls circling like sharks around blood — curious, giggling, sharp. Every question was just a variation of the same theme.
"So, MJ… what really happened at the party?"
"You disappeared with him, didn't you? Come on, spill."
"Is he actually a good kisser or was that just hype?"
MJ sat at the center like a queen on a throne made of gossip. A lazy little smile on her face, pretending she was tired of the topic, but her eyes caught every reaction. She kept saying, "Seriously, girls, that's enough," but didn't move an inch away from the attention.
And across the cafeteria: Aidan.
Sitting with a book in his hands like he was the most dedicated student in school. But of course — the book was upside down, the smile on his face belonged in a toothpaste ad, and he didn't say a word. No confirming, no denying. Just letting the chaos bloom around him like a very satisfied gardener.
Gwen rolled her eyes. Of course he wasn't going to say anything.
Because he didn't need to.
She walked across the cafeteria with purpose, ignored the group of girls, came up behind MJ, and grabbed her by the arm with a grip that didn't leave room for discussion.
"Gwen?! Hi?!" MJ laughed, caught off guard, trying not to trip over her own feet. "What's the emergency?"
"Come with me. Now."
MJ raised an eyebrow, curious, but followed.
Gwen was serious. Like, dead serious. And when Gwen was like that… you didn't argue.
They stepped through one of the side doors and headed straight to the fire escape — the school's neutral zone. No students, no stares. Just cold metal and walls that smelled like old rain.
MJ leaned against the railing like she was expecting a lecture, but still had that automatic charm on her face.
"Alright, go ahead. I've got my guilty face on already— or do you want a full confession?"
Gwen crossed her arms and looked her friend straight in the eye.
"I need to know. You and Aidan… are you together?"
MJ looked surprised. For a second, she looked like she was about to throw out one of those evasive answers she always gave when things got too personal.
But Gwen didn't break eye contact.
Didn't blink.
And then, in a lower voice, hoarse with hesitation, she asked, "Did you… do it with Aidan?"
The silence that followed hung like a suspended note.
MJ bit her lip, the smile fading slowly. She looked away, toward the railing, and finally answered.
"I did."
Gwen felt her stomach flip. It wasn't exactly jealousy. It was that weird bittersweet feeling — when something hits deep but doesn't quite have a name.
"And was it… good?"
MJ gave a short laugh, almost shy for once.
"It was more than good, Gwen. It was like… someone touched every part of me I'd kept hidden until now."
Gwen hugged her arms to her chest. A chill that wasn't just from the breeze on the stairs.
"So you guys are… together?"
MJ shook her head, but not with her usual sarcasm.
"No. We're not a couple. But it wasn't just a one-time thing either. And yeah… I know he'll be with others. Maybe already is. But when he's with me… it's like I'm the only one in the world. And for some reason… that's enough."
Gwen looked down, trying to make sense of the strange feeling of relief in the middle of all the confusion.
"And you're… okay with that?"
MJ stepped closer and gently touched her arm.
"Gwen… Aidan's like a wildfire. You don't control it. You just choose: either you warm yourself by it, or you watch from a distance and hope not to get burned."
She took a breath, no filters this time.
"I chose to get warm. Even knowing one day it might really burn."
Gwen stayed quiet for a few seconds. Stared at the ground. Then, slowly, looked back up and said, "What if… I want to feel that too?"
MJ looked at her for a moment without surprise. Like she already knew that question would come sooner or later.
But the answer came as another question.
"And Peter?"
Gwen didn't answer right away. She just stood there. Heart racing, face flushed, mind torn between everything she had felt and everything she still wanted to feel.
"I… I don't know."