Hoofyd - Hoofyd - Tumblr Blog

all in

Logan Howlett x Reader (Poker Night) SUMMARY | It's Poker Night on Wade's appartment and you were invited. Plus, Logan will be there too. WARNINGS | Sexual tension, public teasing, fingers in v, dirty talk, smut RATING | 18+ NOTES | I don't know why, but in my mind this man loves playing poker. So I just decided doing this little scene to warm up things a little. -

You knocked softly on the door, a few beers balanced in your arms. The muscles in your shoulders and back ached—a stark reminder of how long it had been since your last training session. Wade had been so absorbed in rekindling his bond with Vanessa that he’d left you to fend for yourself. "Wade! Open the door, your bastard." You yell, frowning a little.

Just as you prepared to knock again, ready to unleash another round of exasperated shouts, the door creaked open slightly. Logan stood there, a half-smile playing on his lips. His dark eyes met yours with a hint of curiosity, and you felt an involuntary heat rise in your cheeks.

Logan’s casual attire only added to the effect: a crisp white T-shirt underneath a flannel, paired with well-worn cowboy jeans that hugged his figure just right. The sight was enough to make your heart skip a beat, and you caught yourself thinking about how much you missed the intensity of training sessions—more than just the physical exertion. Wade’s said on one of these sessions that Logan's could actually smell if you where horny or not. And that echoed in your mind, but you shook it off, focusing on the matter at hand.

“Can you give me a hand here?” You asked, trying to keep your tone steady despite the mix of annoyance and something else that bubbled just beneath the surface.

Logan’s dark brow arched in silent amusement as he glanced at the beers in your arms and then back at you.

“Looks like you could use some help, bub.” He said, his voice low and steady.

You couldn’t help but notice the slight shift in his gaze—a fleeting, lingering look that sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his chin inside, gesturing to you to follow him towards the kitchen. The air was filled with the faint scent of butter and the faint sounds of the microwave working—or at least, trying to work. That thing would explode by any moment.

Logan motioned toward the fridge. “You can set those in here.” He said, his voice low and smooth, making your pulse quicken.

You moved to the fridge, trying to keep your composure as you placed the beers inside. The refrigerator’s interior was filled with some half eated japanese food, some suspicious goom and milk, but your focus was on Logan’s proximity. He stood a few steps away, his presence an imposing, magnetic force in the small space.

As you closed the fridge door, you turned to find Logan leaning casually against the counter, a bottle of his own beer in hand. His gaze followed you with an intensity that made your heart race as he take a sip.

“Y’know,” Logan began, his voice rich with a drawl that seemed to caress each syllable, “I don’t see you around here often enough."

You met his gaze, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to undress you, even as his body remained casually relaxed. “I’ve been busy. Working. Waiting for Wade to actually stop fucking with Vanessa 24/7, so we can train."

Logan’s lips curled into a half-smile. He took a slow sip of his beer, never breaking eye contact. “Waiting for him, huh? Ain’t no substitute for what you might be missin’ around here.”

You felt a flush rise in your cheeks. The way he said it, so deliberately, sent a jolt of heat through your body. You could feel the space between you narrowing, the air thickening with an unspoken promise.

“You’re one to talk.” You retorted, trying to maintain a semblance of control despite the growing heat between you. “You’re always so... distant.”

Logan pushed off from the counter, his movements languid and deliberate. He took a step closer, his presence engulfing you. “You think I’m distant? Maybe I’m just waitin’ for the right moment to get a little closer.”

His low husky voice made every word sound like a slow dance, each syllable dripping with suggestive intent. He reached out, his face leaning softly to yours. The eye contact was electrifying, leaving a lingering sensation of warmth on your thighs.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as his hand brushed against yours. “And what exactly are you waitin’ for?”

"Enough of flirting in my kitchen, hornies." Wade said, appearing from nowhere. Damn you, Wade. "Let's play poker." The apartment buzzed with the lively energy of the poker game. Wade had taken the dealer’s seat, enjoying his position on the table. The modest stack of poker chips and snacks created a casual environment, but there was an electric charge in the air—especially between you and Logan.

As the first hand was dealt, you felt a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves. Your cards were a 6 of clubs and a 9 of hearts. Logan, directly across from you, met your gaze with his usual intense focus. His presence was both reassuring and unnerving, making it hard to concentrate. Sip your beer to look cool, you think.

Wade broke the silence with a grin. “Alright, let’s get this started. Small bets tonight, bastards. Keep it friendly, let's not fuck up my banck account."

Wade put 5 chips into the pot. Al Blind, her fingers deftly feeling the chips, matched the bet. “Call.”

Logan’s eyes were locked on you for a moment before he placed his chips into the pot. “Call.” His voice a little huskier as he sips his beer. So damn hot.

Feeling the heat of Logan’s gaze, you swallowed and decided to stay in. “Call.”

The flop was dealt: the 4 of hearts, 7 of diamonds, and Queen of spades. Your cards were not improved, but the Queen could still offer possibilities. Logan’s eyes flickered over the cards, then back to you. There was a charged silence as he contemplated his next move.

Wade, ever the performer, pushed 10 chips into the pot. “Betting 10. Who’s in, little fuckers?”

Al Blind called. “Call.” "Why in the actual fuck are you playing? You can't see shit." Wade says as he narrow his eyes to Al Blind. "The magic dust making miracles." The African lady shrugs, everyone trying to know how she was managing to play that thing.

Logan lips slightly curls into a smirk as he sips his beer. He added 10 more chips to the pot, his eyes lingering on you as he did. “Call.” You could feel his alcohol breath for a moment, you felt your fingers digging on your chair under the table. You took a deep breath, feeling the pressure. Deciding to stay in, you added 10 chips to the pot. “Call.”

The turn card was dealt: the 5 of diamonds. You now had a pair of 5s, though not much else. Wade’s eyes sparkled as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the game. This little fucker has cards and you can tell it. Wade is the worst at making Poker Face.

“Alright, I’m raising, bitches. Let’s make it 20 and open these bankrupt bank accounts.” He giggles, biting his lip.

Al Blind, her fingers grazing the chips, decided to call. “Call.”

Logan’s gaze remained fixed on you as he matched the bet. “Call.”

You felt a flutter of heat as Logan’s eyes lingered on you. The atmosphere between you two seemed to crackle. You decided to call as well, pushing another 20 chips into the pot. “Call.” Suddenly, you felt for a second or two, his knee brushing on yours under the table and that made you destabilize for a moment.

The river card was dealt: the King of hearts. It didn’t change much for you, but it might have improved someone else’s hand. Wade’s grin widened as he took in the final card. Motherfucker.

“Alright, last bet of the night. I’m putting in 30 chips.”

Al Blind called with a calm expression. She was looking a little high, her brain was so cooked. “Call.”

Logan’s gaze was unwavering as he raised the bet to 50 chips. “Raise.”

The pressure mounted. With a pair of 5s, you weren’t confident, but Logan’s intensity made it even harder to decide. You hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, then decided to fold. “Fold.”

Wade chuckled, sensing the tension. “Looks like someone’s not feeling lucky.” "Shut the fuck up." You mutters, sipping your own beer.

Logan’s eyes followed you as you folded, his expression a mix of intrigue and something softer. He turned his attention back to the remaining players. Al Blind revealed a pair of Queens, and Wade showed a pair of 8s with a 7 and a 4.

Logan revealed his hand: a pair of Kings. “Kings over Queens. Good hand.” His veiny hands grabbing the chips.

Wade clapped. “And Logan wins this round! Well played!”

Logan’s gaze settled back on you, his eyes lingering with a rare softness. “Good game tonight. You played well.”

You felt a warm flush at his compliment, the tension between you almost palpable. “Thanks, Logan. I enjoyed it.” "Go to a room you two." Wade announced, tapping Logan's shoulder. Logan's face twitched a little.

The game continued, but each hand felt charged with the electricity of your earlier interactions. Logan’s occasional glances and the way he leaned in during betting created a sense of closeness that made the game feel more intimate.

During a break in the game, Wade was busy grabbing snacks, and you found yourself alone with Logan for a moment. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you. “So, what made you decide to come tonight?”

You swallowed, feeling the intensity of his gaze. “Thought it would be fun. Plus, it’s always interesting to see how you play.”

Logan’s eyes softened slightly, and he gave a rare, genuine smile. “Glad you came. You’ve got a knack for this.”

You met his gaze, your heart racing. “Thanks. I guess I’m just lucky.”

Logan’s smile lingered, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the space between you charged with unspoken possibilities. “Maybe it’s more than luck.”

As the game resumed, the atmosphere remained charged. Each card dealt and each bet made seemed to heighten the connection between you and Logan. You finished your beer earlier and Logan was sharing his with you, your minds twisting about sharing saliva. The playful banter continued, but beneath it all was the undeniable tension that made every glance and touch feel significant. "Alright, folks. I will grab more beer to me." You said as you get up from the table, Al Blind and Wade talking about going to the room to take some White Snow to warm up the final round. "Same." Logan spoke nonchalant, getting up from the table. You could feel his gaze on your back, eating you alive. You gulp as you head into the small kitchen, tossing your empty beer on the trash. You crouch softly, leaning inside the fridge to grab one more beer. "Hand me one too." You felt Logan's voice on your back, his hand brushing on your back. "I—" You gulped, turning around to see him inches of you. "Sure." You grab another one and close the fridge. Somehow, you managed to go to the counter and sit on it, sipping your new beer. Damn, your legs were trembling. "You're shaking to death." Logan said as he walked towards you, his small back resting on the counter beside you. "You're alright, pal?" That fucking smirk. It was there, playing with your thoughts. "Low sugar." You shrugged, trying to play it cool. You felt his thumb brushing on your bare knee, so lazily and mischievous that made you dizzy. That man would fuck you like a hero. You just wanted to be one of his girls tonight. Just tonight. "Sure. Low sugar." He chuckled softly, a rough chuckle. He sipped his beer one last time before placing himself at your front, his hands on your incandescent thighs with no mercy. You spread your knees softly, to let him be closer at you. Your throat felt dry and you imagined how would be to make out with him, in Wade's kitchen with him and Al Blind at home. Of course that they were pretty cooked by this time, but you could feel the adrenaline of being caught. "You like this, right?" He said as he leaned to you, his fingers tracing torturous circles on your thighs. " The idea of being caught." He read your mind so easily. "I doubt that Wade is seeing shit now." You mumble, sipping your beer to keep it cool and try to ignore how horny you are now. Logan's nose twitched a bit and a small, almost non-existent smirk tugged in. With that, one of his hand slide on the back of your neck, forcing your lips against his. It tasted like alcohol, barley, cigarettes and victory. His tongue forced the entry on your mouth, a little sharpy. You leaned more, putting your forearms on his shoulder as he stepped closer. Logan's kiss was intense, rough, starved. His hand was gripping your hair while his other hand digs on your thighs, leaving red marks of fingers. Your legs spread so you could feel his cold belt on your lower stomach, his arousal between your legs. And you could said that the thing was big. Jesus Fucking Christ. His hand forced a grip on your jaw when the kiss deepens, his hand squeezing your inner thighs as you muffled moans on your throat. "Look at you. I barelly touched you and here you are, muffling moans." He whispered in your lips, the huskier in his voice growning. Your desperated lips seek his again, with playful bites. He growled against your mouth. "Shut the fuck up." You said, your hands destroying his styled beast hair. With that, his hand slides between your legs, touching your warmed panties. "Come again?" Logan's teeth grazed on your bottom lip, marking it softly. It was an educated way to make you be quiet. "You heard it." You managed to say, between ragged breaths. He smirked as his fingers pushed your panties aside, releasing the entry. His finger slipped on your cunt, taking the wetness there and bringing it to your clit.

"I will fuck you up with my fingers," He said, managing lazy circles around your clit. The touch were so precise, firm. "And you will not say a word."

Anything you say.

You think, your brows curling as your jaw drop. His thumb were placed on the clit as the middle finger slide slowly. It burned softly, it's been a while. You bite your lip in embarrassment as you feel the burnt, but his eyes were eating your alive with primal hungry. He noticed that he is the first in while, and that made him so fucking horny. With that, you bring him closer, your tongue sliding on his in need. The finger finally slide all inside your wet cunt, making little sounds of slapping. You felt dizzy, gripping his shirt as he goes deeper, slowly until you get used at his finger. You felt his eyes on you, as of asking silently if he could slide another one. That eyes made you melt. You nodded fervently, as you muffled another moan when he put another finger, filling you. You arched your back softly as he took you expression in every single glorious detail, he is going to dream with that expression. Logan is not much a type of talking during it, he just growls and look at you like a piece of meat. But that just make you feel more wet. Your hips moves against his hand, seeking more. He brought his face your shoulder, licking the base of the neck. He could smell your arousal in kilometers.

"Logan—" You moan in the lowest voice possible, shutting your eyes.

"Quiet." He hisses, kissing your neck as he mover faster, the little wet sounds scaping from the kitchen.

Thank to God that the TV on the living room was playing some music. Man in the Box by Alice In Chains. Damn, you were definitely going to listen that song multiple times after that night.

You bite your lip as he looks in your eyes, his free hand embracing your waist as the finger slide in and out on a perfect pace. His eye contact was ending you over. His firm arm was keeping you in place as you were being so well fucked. His thumb managed to rub your clit again, making you tilt your head back. He smirked seeing you on his mercy as the fingers were touching your G point like a champion. Oh God.

You felt your lower stomach burning as he took your mouth as his, the thumb rubbing you in quick circles and the other two curling inside you in a glorious speed. That's it. You felt the feeling of death all of your body, a muffled good moan scaping your lips as you grind hard against his hands, feeling the release spreading all over your form. Riding Logan's hands was your favorite sport now.

In some minutes you walked to the bathroom without dignity and trembling legs to clean yourself quick. Wade and Al Blind were wasted on their shared room, his noses kissed by the white powder. Logan lead you to the front door, leaning against the doorframe.

“Good game tonight,” He said as you prepared to leave. “You did well.” Motherfucker, he was finding this very amusing.

You felt a flutter of excitement at his words. “Thanks, Logan. I had a great time.” You flashed a playful grin. "See you next week, bub?" He said, squeezing your waist in a reminder. You felt a slight shiver on your knees. "Yes." You mumbled as your throat felt dry. The answer was a little too eager.

As you left the apartment, the night had been filled with unexpected scenarios. The casual poker game had turned into an evening of the best release you had in a while, leaving you with a sense of anticipation for what might come next.

for all that it’s worth, please never let this logan/hugh jackman renaissance end. ever.

sigh

logan helps you unwind (18+)

a/n: with everyone FINALLY getting with the hugh jackman/wolverine renaissance i’ve decided to cave in and write my first oneshot in a whiiiiile.. just for fun! i’m a bit rusty and it’s kinda all over the place so bare with me *NOT PROOFREAD*

prompt: after a long day covering a mission, your bf is there to help you relax

cw: xfem! reader TRIES to be a tease, slight fluff, SMUT, lots of pet names, logan is soft, also cocky, slight degradation, oral sex, missionary, belly bulge, slight dacryphilia, supposed to be sensual but gets feral

-

after filling in professor xavier with your finds during your mission, you exit lower levels of the mansion in pure exhaustion. your walk back to your room didn’t help as you reveled in the quiet, peaceful ambience of the mansion. during the day, it was never this quiet so you appreciate the stillness, allowing the dimmed lights to guide you along each narrow hallway.

from what felt like a long walk, you finally reach your bedroom, reaching for the doorknob in anticipation. you missed the comfort of your four walls, your bed, and most importantly, your boyfriend. you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you saw the dim lamp light peeking out from your room, indicating that someone was inside. opening and closing the door behind you, you fail to hide your smile as you meet eyes with none other than logan. pulling his eyes away from the tv in front of your bedframe, he smiled before speaking.

“i was starting to think you lost your way back, (n/n).” logan spoke, rising from your bed and walking toward you to envelop you in a hug. you immediately wrap your arms around his wide shoulders and rest them on the back of his neck, turning your head to hear his heartbeat. you missed the way he said your name. “what took you so long, bub? i was startin’ to get worried.” logan’s soft tone pulled you away from your thoughts.

“i‘m sorry,” you mumbled sleepily, “i didn’t think i would take that long. everything went fine, though. i’m just really tired, i wanna lay down.” the last part came out in a whine you hadn’t intended for.

“aww, s’alright, princess, i’ll take care of you” logan coos in a mocking voice, snickering at your whiny tone. “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” too tired to come up with a witty response, you allow logan to carry you bridal style to the bathroom.

~~~~

you had changed into one of logan’s old shirts, reaching past your knees. you were going to put on a pair of sleep shorts but you decided against it, wearing a thong instead. you walk out of the bathroom turning off the light behind you to see logan, who had already changed, waiting for you in bed. you stay near the bathrooms doorframe, taking a moment to drink in the sight in front of you. logan had changed into a black tank top showing off his veiny muscles, along with a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low at his hips and left little to imagination. staring at his print, your eyelashes fluttered as you tried to rub your legs together to calm the sensation between your thighs.

your boyfriends voice snapped you out of your trance. “what are you waiting for to get in bed? c’mere.” he stared back at you, voice gravelly. your eyes flickered down to his hand at his side, motioning you toward him with his index and middle finger.

“okay,” you spoke softly, biting your lip. slowly walking toward the bed, grabbing onto his lean shoulders you swung your right leg over to straddle him on either side. logan groaned as he felt your heat grind against his print, but you covered it up as if you were innocently adjusting yourself in his lap.

logan’s hands found your plush hips and rubbed circles in them lovingly, looking up at you through his strands of dark brown hair. between the feeling of him beneath you and his large hands on you, sleeping was the last thing on your mind now. “you’re such a tease, you know that?” he mumbled, eyes seemingly turning a shade darker as you continued to grind harder against his print.

“mmm,” you held back a moan, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you leaned down toward him, pressing a feather-like kiss to his lips before backing away, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to hold back a sly smile. logan groaned at this, taking a hand to gently pull your lip away from your teeth, letting the pad of his thumb drag your bottom lip down toward your chin.

“doll,” he strained out, his eyes were locked on your pretty lips now wrapping around the pad of his thumb, playfully biting it.

“hmm?” you quipped.

“remember how i said i was gonna take care of you?” he growled out. “think m’gonna do that now.” deciding he’s had enough of your teasing, logan flipped the two of you over before you could respond. his lips gently, yet passionately met yours, moving in tandem. your hand comes up to play with the hair in the back of his head while the other travels down toward the band of his sweatpants, desperately attempting to pull them down.

logan pulls away to smirk down at your feeble attempt to reach his pants, “relax, baby. we’ll get there, i wanna take my time. been waiting all day f’you” he gently guides your hand away from him, interlocking it with his own. logan lifted the oversized shirt over your head to reveal your body in all of its glory, eyes drawn to your hardened nipples.

“you look so pretty under me” logan whispers in admiration, more to himself than to you whilst playing with the soft flesh on your chest. you whine as you try your best to buck your hips towards his thigh, desperate for friction.

“tell me, bub. what’dya need from me? hm?” he speaks endearingly as he tweaks your left nipple in between his fingers, but it sounds all the more condescending to you.

“please lo’, i want your mouth” you say shyly. normally you wouldn’t be so quick to say what you needed, but the pulsing between your thighs was becoming too much for you. logan hummed in approval and moved down, face meeting your lacy thong. he spreads your legs and takes a moment to smell you. “logan” you whine in embarrassment.

“you smell so good, (n/n)”. he teases before using his index finger and thumb to pinch and pull at the wet spot on your panties, letting it snap back against your wet clit. catching you off guard, you gasped. “sorry, i forgot, what is it that you needed from me again, baby?” logan’s lips slip up into a smirk.

“oh my god, logan. hurry up, i need your mouth” you groan impatiently. logan snickers at this before he finally slides your soiled panties down your legs and pins your thighs near your chest. “hold them there.” logan orders. you oblige as you watch his thumbs spread you open on either side, flattening his tongue while he laps at your clit.

“ohhh my- fuck…” you moan softly. logan places light, open mouthed kisses on your sensitive bud as he looks up at you.

“please, that feels so good. want more..” one of your hands reach down from your leg to guide his own to your hole, clenching around nothing. logan slowly inserts his middle finger, curling it up against that spongy spot just the way you like.

“mmm, logan, i’m gonna cum” you throw your head back, pleading. your hand flies to tug his tufts of hair closer your heat. logan pumps his finger in and out of you, lips popping away from your clit to watch the white ring forming around his thick digit. “lo, i’m—“

just as the coil in your lower stomach was about to snap, he stops. your mouth opens to protest, but logan comes up to shush you with a kiss.

“m’sorry bub, i want you to cum on my cock first.” logan leans back on his knees to suck his finger clean from your juices, keeping eye contact with you. he kisses your forehead one last time before leaning back again to pull off his tank top and his sweatpants, painfully slow. you stared in awe as his muscles flexed with every movement, eyes raking up and down his body.

once he finally got them off, your bring your hand to pump his lengths few times before taking some of the precum at the tip of your fingers, bringing it to your lips. “fuck” logan whines. you lean up from the bed to drag his face down towards yours, kissing him feverishly. logan bites your bottom lip, using your soft moan to deepen the kiss. you had been so caught up in kissing him that you hadn’t realized he took a hand down to line himself up with your entrance. gasping at the stretch, you pull away from the kiss with a breathy sigh as your head lands on your pillow.

logan grunts as he continues to his length into you, bottoming out. you hiss at the sensation and clench around him. “shit, don’t squeeze me like that, baby. gonna make me cum already..” he trails off, thrusting in and out of you at a slow pace.

“god, logan” you whine pathetically as your back lifts off of the bed. “it’s so much”

“i know, baby, i know” logan taunts you as he watches the way your eyes roll in the back of your head once he speeds up his thrusts. pulling one of your legs over his shoulder he bends down, tickling your ear. “it’s too good isn’t it, doll? you want me to stop?” he asks, although he already knows the answer.

“n-no! want you to… mmm.. keep going..” you say frantically as your eyes shoot open. you feel logan smirk at this, placing kisses in the crook of your neck before pulling away to look down at his length poking through your lower stomach. “holy fuck, look at that baby.” logan moans, bringing one of his hands behind your neck, tilting your head down. “taking me so well. how does this feel?” he slithers his hand away from your neck and moves it between your bodies, pressing down on the bulge.

your moans raise in pitch as the pressure and rhythm of his thrusts became too much for you. “s-s’good, lo. i’m gonna cum.” you breathe out as a tear slips from your eye.

logan’s cock twitches inside of you at the sight as his hips snap faster, chasing his own climax. “you look so pretty when you cry, angel” his tone was so soft compared to the way he was drilling into you, it was almost comical. the hand that was pressing against your abdomen was now traveling down, rubbing tight, small circles on your clit.

“yes, logan. just like that, im so close” you sob, thrusting up to the best of your ability to meet his thrusts.

“like that?” he mocks you. “you’re right there, bub. i know you can do it. cum for me” you moan louder than you have before, walls tightening around his length and your body shakes as you finally cum around him.

“that’s it, baby. such a good fucking girl.” logan praises you, snapping his hips even faster as he grabs both your ankles and pins them near your heard. his cock twitches against your tight walls again before he finishes inside of you with a deep growl.

after he lets go, you move your legs down to wrap around logans waist until you feel him get soft, pulling back out of you.

“did i hurt you?” he asked, petting your hair.

“no, it was great” you spoke softly. you stare at each other for a moment before your eyes flutter closed once you see him move to lay down next to you and wrap his arms around your waist.

~~~~

a/n: HELPOO THIS WAS SO SLUTTY i’m so ashamed and im probably deleting this in the morning 😔😔😔

Liquid Smooth (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Started writing this last night...sooo happy you guys wanted a sex pollen fic! Hope it lives up to everyone's expectations! This one is (obviously) inspired by "Liquid Smooth," by Mitski. ENJOY!

Summary: A simple mission deep in a forest alone with Logan quickly gets out of hand when you just have to go and pick a flower...

Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Sex Pollen (so dub!con just to be safe, but not really), Multiple orgasms, Porn Without Plot...literally, implied!age gap, cursing, friends to lovers, fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,797 muahaha

“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” you murmur as Logan thumbs through the controls of the X-Jet. “Could’ve done this by myself.” 

Logan scoffs. “I’m not your babysitter, princess.” You roll your eyes at the nickname Logan has specially reserved just for you. “Charles said we’d be safer going together. He knows you can handle yourself.”

The X-Jet cruises effortlessly through the clouds. The air is still today. Calm. You and Logan are on your way to get some sort of flower that Charles claims to have extensive healing properties. It’s an easy mission. No fighting. No violence. You’re unlikely to have to use your powers at all. And yet, you’ve been paired with Logan. 

It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t—admittedly—a little into him. Or rather, pining after him. There’s just something about the sarcasm that’s always thick in his voice; the way he squeezes himself into those thin beaters. How he’s always so self-assured, so thoroughly convinced he’s right. You just can’t help it. You want him. But he isn’t yours, and he probably never will be. He’s a little older—well, a lot, considering he’s been around forever. And you know it’s safer not to make attachments—not to fall in love.

Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that. 

But having him here with you now, alone, with no buffers…it’s overwhelming. You can smell him—that mix of tobacco and pine and musk and him. He’s suddenly everywhere, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You watch as his long fingers press different buttons, his hands gripping the steering wheel, adjusting thrusters. You stare at those fingers for far too long, your thoughts drifting to what else he can do with them. You think about him curling them deep inside you, stretching you open and—

“Everything okay?” You snap your head to face Logan, swallowing harshly as his voice pulls you back to reality. 

You force a smile, nodding. “Yep!” You say, overcompensating just a bit. “All good,” you lie. You close your eyes, trying to push thoughts of Logan out of your head, denying the heat growing between your legs.

“Good, because we’re almost there,” Logan says, the X-Jet descending carefully. You look out the window to see the trees below. There’s a lake in the distance, but that’s it. No civilization, no houses—no one. It’s empty, peaceful. 

“We’re really in the middle of nowhere, huh?” You say, glancing at Logan. 

His eyes meet yours and he smiles. Warmth blooms in your heart at the sight. “My kind of place,” he says back. The X-Jet descends further as you approach a clear spread of grass to land on just ahead. 

This is, in fact, not your kind of place. The humidity creeps up your back and settles under your skin. The forest is overgrown and impossible to navigate. You let Logan slice through the plant life with his claws, swiping back and forth whenever something gets in your way.

You haven’t been walking for long, but you’re already done. Perhaps Charles was right; a partner is not the worst idea on a mission like this. 

You can see the flower just ahead—yellow petals and a long, green, viny stem. It glows brightly even under the dense forest canopy. “Semper in tenebris lux,” Charles had said; there is always light in darkness. And he was right. The flower illuminates everything in its path. Next to it, you can see a pretty, lavender-colored flower. You stop in your tracks, letting Logan wander ahead as you crouch down to stroke the purple petals. 

“Charles didn’t say anything about not taking other flowers too, right?” You call out, watching as Logan swipes carefully at the stem of the yellow flower. He holds the dainty stem in his large hands as he walks back over to you. 

“No, he didn’t. But you should be careful. It could be poisonous or—”

You ignore Logan, picking the flower anyway. You hold it up to your nose and breathe in. It’s sweet and fragrant. You twist the stem and realize the flower is sticky with sap and pollen. Your twist shakes some of the pollen up, and it lands all over your face. 

“Shit,” you mutter, wiping it away. A gust of wind sweeps through the forest, knocking the flower out of your hand and spreading more of its pollen in the air. You can feel it in your nostrils, getting caught in your throat.

Logan furrows his brows as the pollen falls to the ground. “What the fuck did you do?”

You roll your eyes. “All I did was pick a flower!” You lift your hands, feigning innocence. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You stand up, glancing once at the yellow flower in Logan’s hands and then back at Logan. “It’s pretty.”

He parts his lips, his stare focused on you. “Yeah, it is.” There’s something else in that stare, in those words. Like maybe he isn’t only talking about the flower. You shove those thoughts down as you turn around and walk back to the jet.

Your steps are suddenly very heavy. You scratch at your shoulder. Heat blooms in your chest, your stomach, across your face. You’re irritated and overheated and itchy. Your breath grows heavier and rougher with every step. 

Logan notices immediately. He stops, grabbing your arm. You can’t control the way you lean into his touch, nor the way you’re craving more. “Hey,” he soothes, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay?” There’s a hint of panic in his voice. 

You swallow harshly, nodding. Your throat feels thick, your skin tight and oppressive. “’M’fine,” you mumble. 

“Quit lying. I can tell something’s wrong,” Logan demands. You open your mouth to persuade him otherwise, but he doesn’t give you the chance, his grip tightening around your arm. “Your skin is on fucking fire, princess. What did you do?” He cocks his head, sniffing as he furrows his brows. His voice is darker now, slower as his eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do?”

You take in a sharp breath. And that’s when you feel it, the ache between your thighs, the slick arousal soaking through your panties. The realization smacks you in the face. For a moment, you’re clear-headed, but still terrified. The pollen. That goddamn, fucking pollen. “Logan, look, I think that purple flower had some—"

He cuts you off as he yanks your arm, tugging you towards the ship. “We need to get you back to the jet, okay?”

“Oh, I am so fucked,” you cry. You know you only have a few seconds left before the effects really kick in. “L-Logan,” you stutter, almost moaning as your core burns stronger with need. “T-the pollen was everywhere. What if you got some too?” 

He ignores you, handing you the yellow flower you came here for in the first place. He sweeps one hand under your legs and keeps the other at your back as he lifts you in his arms—bridal style. You can feel his heart beating in his chest. You lean into him again, searching for relief. Wetness pools between your legs. You have never felt this needy before. Your desire hurts, burns, scorches you. You rut your hips, clenching down around nothing. 

“S-stop doing that,” Logan spits, restrained and quiet. 

“C-can’t,” you whine. “It hurts, Logan. It hurts so fucking bad. How come you aren’t like this too?”

He pulls you tighter to his chest. “I feel a little something, but that might just…”

You tilt your head up to look at him. He works his jaw, that perfect jaw. You want to bite it, to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Might just be what?” You ask, tentatively brushing your lips against the hollow of his throat. 

“Nothing, just—fuck,” he groans as you press soft, open-mouthed kisses all around his neck now. “Don’t do that, princess. You don’t want this.”

“But I do, Logan,” you beg. The ramp to the jet lowers as you and Logan approach. “N-need you.” You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in. “Need y-you all the time.” The confession slips easily from your lips. 

Logan’s eyes widen as he walks up the ramp and into the ship. It lifts and seals shut behind him. “You don’t mean that, sweetheart. Let’s just get you back to the mansion as quickly as possible, yeah?”

He places you down on the seat next to him, taking the flower from your hands and putting it in the jar Charles had given you. The leather cold at your back almost feels good, almost relieving—until you realize Logan is no longer holding you, touching you. You reach out towards him, grabbing his arms, pulling him back in. “Don’t go,” you plead, nails digging into his biceps. Your body is on fire. Everything is unbearably painful. “Please,” you whimper. “Need you so fucking bad, just you.” 

“Fuck,” Logan curses. “I am not taking advantage of you. I am not doing this.” He stands, freeing himself from your grasp and walking over to the pilot’s chair. “I’m getting you back to the mansion and we’re going to fix this, okay?”

But that’s not good enough for you. You stand up and walk over to Logan. Your steps are shaky, your legs trembling. Your chest heaves, your heart beating rapidly. You climb into Logan’s lap, straddling him, one leg on either side. “Logan, I can’t fucking wait,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. The pressure feels delicious.  He grabs your hips, stilling you, forcing you in place. And that’s when you feel it: his erection, hard underneath your core. “This isn’t you. You don’t really want this, don’t really want m—”

“It is me,” you protest, squirming against his hold. “Logan, I’ve wanted you for months. I-I was thinking about you t-touching me the whole way here.” You remember the way his fingers dexterously pushed all the right buttons. Need courses through you like a river, and as Logan’s hold on your hips softens, you grind down into his lap, against his erection. “S-so good,” you cry out. 

His hands are still on your hips, but now he’s guiding you, rocking you against his cock. “J-just this though, okay?” 

You hum, pressing your forehead to his, rolling your hips faster. The relief is like heaven. His arms wrap around your back, his fingers trailing up and down soothingly. Logan ruts into you, his erection straining against his jeans. You can feel yourself getting closer, but the pain, the need, it’s all still the same. 

“Logan, it’s not gonna be enough,” you whisper, his lips ghosting yours. “N-need more. Hurts so bad.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, like he’s scared to truly touch you. But he wants to consume your pain, to take it away, to feel it for you. You can see it written across his face, in the way his cock throbs against your swollen clit, how he snaps his hips into yours. 

“I know, princess,” he coos, his hands like fire on your back. Your walls contract around nothing, begging for something to hold onto, to feel something sink deep inside. “Gonna take care of you.” He kisses you again, with more vigor this time, more passion. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”

You moan into his mouth. His composure is slipping, disintegrating with every roll, every rock of your hips against his. His cock notches against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure up the base of your spine. He hikes your shirt up, the cold air hitting your overheated skin. “F-feels good,” you stammer. You’re almost there, almost hitting that peak. “S-so close.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes. “Let go for me, know you can do it.” 

You moan his name, your orgasm crashing into you like a crescendo. You know you’re soaking through your clothes, and probably onto Logan’s too. He’s still rutting against you, giving you more. He knows it’s not going to be enough, and he’s right. Need builds back up just as quickly as you found your release. 

 “Lo…” you trail off, looking up at him under lust-filled eyes. You swallow harshly, squirming in his lap helplessly. “G-gotta have you.” 

He presses his forehead to yours. He works his jaw, parting his lips. “Y-you meant it when you said you wanted me before this?” But he already knows the answer. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him about that, not even now. 

“Yes,” you whine, pulling him closer. He tugs your shirt all the way over your head and picks you up, hands firmly gripping your ass. “Still gonna want you after this, too.”

He curses under his breath as he places you down in the pilot’s chair. He’s frenzied and frantic as he hooks his thumbs into your pants and panties, yanking them down your legs and casting them to the side. 

He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands, his thumbs brushing soft circles into your inner thighs. He’s kneeling, looking up at you. Your breath catches in your throat as his face settles between your legs. 

“Could smell you before, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning over your clit. “Wanted this so fucking bad.” He doesn’t keep you waiting, licking a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “Knew you’d taste perfect. Pretty fucking pussy.” 

You throw your head back as his lips latch onto your clit, sucking harshly. He slips one hand across your back, keeping you close. His free hand climbs up your thigh, fingers exploring your folds as his tongue flits across your swollen bud. He spreads your arousal, prodding against your entrance before shoving two fingers deep inside you. “Logan!” You cry out, your walls clenching around him. He’s stretching you out, his fingers dragging inside you. He pulls out and plunges back in. He isn’t taking his time, isn’t teasing. He’s giving you what you need, pump after pump. 

You look down at him, his face buried in your cunt, consuming you, swallowing you whole like a starving man. He’s lost inside you, lapping at you with unwavering hunger and desire. His tongue swirls around your clit, his teeth grazing ever so slightly. You moan his name again, and he hums against you, the vibrations of his bassy voice rocking through your body. He’s wrecking you, but it feels so goddamn good. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he goads you along. He’s adding a third finger now, and you suck him in. You’d take anything he gives you, anything at all. “Doing so good for me, taking it so well.” 

He sucks roughly, your walls clenching around him at the feeling. “Yeah?” He grunts, sucking again. “You like that? Feels good?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, stumbling over that one simple word. “S-so fucking good.” 

“I know, beautiful,” he groans, nipping at your clit in between his rough sucks. “Gonna make that hurt go away, okay?” His voice is like honey, sugar; it’s sweet, addictive. “You just gotta come for me again, can you do that?” His tongue strokes your clit, his fingers pumping faster now. 

You nod your head emphatically, pleasure surging as you near your peak. “Yeah, I-I can,” you huff. 

Logan smiles against your cunt between rough laps. “I know you can, sweetheart.” His fingers scissor inside you, deeper than before. He takes your clit between his lips again, sucking hard. 

And that’s all it takes—you’re screaming his name, coming undone, unraveling underneath him. The release is even better than the first, more full, more complete. Logan thrusts in and out a few more times before slowly pulling his fingers from your cunt. He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up into your eyes. 

For a moment, the fire inside has been quenched. You feel clear, levelheaded. But it doesn’t last long. “Fuck,” you moan, your head hitting against the headrest of the chair. The fire is back, spreading across your stomach, your chest. “Logan,” you whimper. “I n-need more.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” he coos, taking you back up into his arms. He hoists you out of the seat, his hands finding your ass, squeezing softly. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you across the jet, setting you down on a storage container. 

You bring your hands up to his biceps. “Need you this time, Lo,” you choke, stroking up and down his arms as the heat builds painfully between your thighs. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes searching yours. 

“Always wanted you, always sure,” you whisper, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Wanted you too,” he husks. “But I wanted it to be different, to—” You cut him off. “Just want you. It’s okay like this. I promise.” You grind against him, his erection still straining inside the denim of his jeans. 

He takes the hint, and quickly unbuckles his belt, casting the leather to the metal floor with a clunk. He’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, shoving them down his legs, and lining himself up with your entrance. You push your hips forward, giving him better access. His other hand pushes your bra above your breasts, exposing you completely to him. 

With one hand on his cock and one squeezing your tits gently, he thrusts himself into you. He’s so deep—down to the hilt—stretching you out and working you open. He groans, flicking your nipple with his thumb, his lips at the shell of your ear. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine, quenching that fire inside. “So warm, so tight.” He pulls out and plunges back in again, filling you up. 

“Lo,” you whine. “More.”

“I know,” he growls, his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out with every thrust. “Gonna take care of you, pretty girl.” He squeezes your tits once more before sliding his hand down your body and slipping between where the two of you connect. His fingers find your clit, drawing rough circles around the bud. “That feel good, beautiful?” 

“Y-yes, Logan, so fucking good,” you cry out as he rocks into you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place. You hope there’s a bruise there later—proof that he touched you, proof that he fucked into you like the world was ending. 

His cock rubs against your walls, your muscles contracting around him, sucking him in deeper. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, his lips crashing down onto yours, swallowing your moans. He’s taking all of you, hard and fast. You can feel him twitching inside you, throbbing with the same need you feel pulsing through your veins. 

Logan kisses your jaw, and then just underneath, biting down on your pulse point. You arch your back, your chest meeting his. The contact is delicious, the friction a necessity. He thrusts into you faster now, doing his all to satiate your every need. He’s getting you there, pump after pump, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time. 

It’s working. You can feel yourself slipping again, melting. “Logan,” you hum, too fucked out to say anything other than his name. That beautiful name, like a song in the air, a gentle prayer, a holy ghost. He’s all you need—all you’ve ever needed. 

Your walls contract, squeezing him tightly. “Fuck,” he mutters. You know he’s close too. He strokes your clit, circling roughly. “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it, let me get you there again.” 

“Lo,” you cry, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he fucks into you, rutting his hips, plunging deeper still. It’s all too much. You can feel the pleasure drumming inside you, coming to a head. 

Logan loosens his grip on your hip and slides his hand behind your back, pulling you into his chest. You rest your forehead against his. “Come on my cock, princess, let go.” And you do. You’d do anything for him. You moan as your orgasm tears through you. It’s all blinding white heat, liquid smooth, pleasure wracking your body. 

Logan curses under his breath, close behind. He pulses inside you once, and then he’s coming undone. Your arms wrap around his back, keeping him close, letting him know it’s okay to finish inside. He fills you up, whispering praises in your ear as you both come down from your high. Such a good fucking girl. Did so good for me. So fucking good. Perfect little pussy.

He’s still inside you, pumping slowly as you ride out your orgasm. His fingers let go of your clit, his hands running up your back and tugging you closer to him. He slowly pulls out, keeping you tight against his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. You take a deep breath, waiting for the heat to build again, waiting for that need to surge every cell of your being. But there’s nothing. Your nerves are suddenly quiet—silent. 

“I-I think it’s over,” you stutter, still nervous that maybe it’s not. He keeps you there, holding you tightly, ready to start again if necessary. 

After a few minutes, you let yourself relax. It’s not coming back. It’s over. 

Logan presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head. “I’ve still got you. Not going anywhere.” Your heart rate has finally slowed down. The heat is gone. You feel comfortable in your skin again. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into Logan’s chest. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, princess,” Logan reassures, his voice gentle and soft. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still feel a sting in your heart. You need to make him know that you meant what you said—need him to know exactly how you feel. You swallow nervously, ready to bite the bullet. 

“Logan,” you breathe. “I-I meant everything I said. It wasn’t just the pollen.” You pull yourself from his chest, looking up at him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you…” you trail off. “S-still need you now. Nothing’s changed.” 

He smiles down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know, darlin’,” he husks. “I wanted you before, and I still do, too.” 

“I know you wanted it to be different. I know it wasn’t—” But he cuts you off, his lips capturing yours, quieting your anxious rambles. “We’ll have other chances. Other times to do it the way I want.” He smirks, running his hands up and down your back. 

Other chances. Other times. More. More. More. “Yeah?” You ask. 

“Yeah, princess.”

tags: @wolviesgirl @dojacatswink @dilf420 @spiderset @pleasantlycrazyworld @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @y-ns-things

— sugar, sugar

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own version of a personal hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh, uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

BETWEEN YOU AND ME (AND THE SEA)

pairing ༄ zoro x gn!reader

warnings ༄ suggestive content (this takes place after sex). slight angst that ends in sweet comfort. brief descriptions of violence and wounds. love as religion/love as worship.

word count ༄ 911

notes ༄ this fic is just an insanely intense pillow talk session with my favorite man (i don’t know how to be normal). it’s brimming with love. please enjoy!

p.s. i use the word “bokken” to denote a wooden practice sword.

“i would die for you.”

your breath caresses zoro’s heaving chest, his tawny skin damp, glistening under the moon’s pearly glow. the air is still in the crow’s nest; the only sound to disturb the lulling midnight is the gentle lap of the wine-dark sea.

it takes the swordsman several moments to process your words, his mind still hazy from the events of your shared watch. one wide palm rests on the soft curve of your lower back while he absentmindedly strokes the arch of your neck.

“hm?” zoro belatedly rumbles, brows knit in confusion.

you raise your head to meet your lover’s steel gaze. the look in your eye—zoro knows it well. beneath the heady cloud of contentment is the crazed glint of worship, shining like a honed blade. it’s a look that both terrifies him in its depth and comforts him in its earnestness.

will he ever be worthy of your devotion?

“i’m not particularly brave or strong,” you start, a fingertip etching love into his flesh as you trace the jagged edges of the scar that slashes across his torso—the ghost of an injury that almost took him from you.

“but i would do anything for you, zo. i would die for you. and it should scare me, that i feel so deeply.” your finger stills, hovering above his heart, beat steadfast as the foamy tide. “but when it comes to you? i lose all my inhibitions. i would die for you in an instant.”

even in the dusky quiet, zoro’s hands are broad and warm as the sun. they are an extension of his weapons, instruments of death. yet he cradles your cheeks with devastating care as he pulls your face to his own. his jaw flexes resolutely as he grits out, “don’t say shit like that.”

“not saying it doesn’t make it any less true,” you murmur.

few things scare the swordsman; he knows death’s face, having brushed shoulders with the endless ether more times than he can count. when he dreams, he wades through a river of ichor as asura, violence incarnate.

but your vulnerability frightens him—how you lay your heart bare and expect nothing in return.

the way you live goes against everything zoro has ever known, against his basest instincts to keep his emotions close to his chest, to fight the burden of existence with blood in his maw, to survive at any cost.

(it’s a bitter january evening and snow flurries paint the eaves of the dojo white. zoro’s stomach growls, hunger gnawing at his intestines. his young, scrawny limbs ache with overuse. the room is frigid; his simple robe is not nearly enough to keep the color in his cheeks.

this dreaded overnight practice is punishment for pilfering onigiri from the kitchen several days prior. hunger is but a distraction for the weak. he must repent with grueling drills. but in the middle of an overhead swing, he loses feeling in his arms, the bokken clattering to his feet.

his sensei tsks in disappointment. “the way of the sword is absolute, roronoa. you eat and sleep and breathe by the blade. the second you lose focus—the moment you lose sight of what is important—you will cease to be a swordsman.”

tears of frustration prick the young boy’s eyes, but he holds his tongue, picking up the bokken without sound or complaint. he doesn’t realize that his palms are cracked and that the wooden hilt is stained sanguine. he continues training until dawn.)

zoro licks his chapped lips. his tongue is always loose when it’s just the two of you and the sea. “i’m not worth it.”

a frown pinches your features. adorable, he wants to say as you wrap your arms around his neck with a huff.

“what makes you think your life is worth any less than luffy’s? than chopper’s? than mine?”

zoro assesses you for a moment, feline eye unreadable. he measures his words with unusual care. “my role is to protect. it was—it is—my vow to luffy.”

threading your fingers through his mint tresses, you tug, concern rolling off of you in waves. “then who’s left to protect you, zo?”

his mind answers without hesitation: no one. (the little boy with the bloodstained bokken weeps.)

“let me protect you,” you entreat, lips brushing his, ardent as a prayer.

the fates, in their divine and impartial wisdom, must have made a grave mistake: spinning the claret thread of your fate, meting it out, and mistakenly intertwining it with the swordsman’s. zoro is certain that it’s a miscarriage of justice—not that the gods have ever been preoccupied with fairness.

did he do something in a past life to deserve your reverence?

“i can’t,” he breathes. but his iron resolve is rusting, fissures compromising the once-gleaming surface.

“you can.”

zoro has never considered himself to be a good man. you are eager to give, and he wants nothing more than to receive. he drinks in your affection so greedily that he doesn’t notice how his lone eye burns when he claims your lips with his own, heartfelt i love yous exchanged between spit and tongue.

the tears are silent as they drip down his freckled cheek; you swipe each of them away with a thumb before dotting kisses across his salty flesh. zoro has half a mind to be embarrassed—swordsmen don’t cry.

but if there is one absolute truth in this cursed world, it’s this: his heart is safe with you and you alone.

Until Now [Roronoa Zoro]

an: this was born from a thought I had whilst talking with a friend about one of her favourite men. For my beloved @angelic-muse

pairing: zoro x female reader

warnings: fluff, one playful smack to the chest (his), tickling, zoro being a little constipated with feelings

Masterlist

Smack!

You eyed the hand that landed against the thick wall of muscle with incredulity. The sound echoed around the empty cabin, cutting across the noise of the playful waters that lapped at the ship. Heat poured into your palm, accompanied by a slight sting from the impact. You hadn’t meant to strike with such force; it was to be a love tap, a playful gesture, but that’s not what had transpired.

One dark eyebrow rose. You didn’t dare move except for your eyes rising to meet with dark irises that sparkled like polished coals. How would he take this? Everything was still so new…

Zoro was unaccustomed to affection. He didn’t know what to do with it at the best of times–and that wasn’t to say he wasn’t grateful–it was simply confusing. That’s where this had started, his inability to understand why you sought to wrap him in a hug the very second he walked through the door. Damn, he couldn’t even set down his swords and haramaki before you barrelled into him like he had been gone for months.

Maybe he shouldn’t have called you a pest, even if it was meant as nothing more than a joke. Perhaps he shouldn’t have clicked his teeth and patted the top of your head like you were some young pup. It was hard to navigate this new relationship at the best of times and after a long day of nothing but working out and bickering with a certain someone, it was more so.

“Is it a fight you’re after?” He asked in a faux stern tone. For once, he was the quicker one on his feet—emotionally speaking—and you were the one caught on the back foot.

“N-no.”

“You sure? Cause it seems like it is.” You squirmed beneath his intense stare, taking a step back when he moved forward all whilst your palm still connected to his chest.

You could feel his heartbeat and marvelled at how steady it was when your own was racing faster and faster. Heat washed over you, the impish tongue in your head dry and unmoving—for once. He was so tall, imposing really, and the fact there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body didn’t escape your notice either. Zoro was a literal wall of strength and he was backing you into a corner.

“Was a joke…” You mumbled shyly, annoyed that he could pull this bashful version of you out.

Zoro huffed out a laugh, amused by the puff of your cheeks and how you couldn’t maintain his eye contact without looking off to the side. Slowly, he removed the swords by his right hip and laid them lovingly on the dresser.

“I don’t know that smacking me like that could be a joke, love. C’mere.”

“Zoro. I am right here,” you wailed, head snapping up to his and only finding a lopsided smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

Sweat glistening on his biceps, the warmth of the now setting sun lingered on his skin as if it wished to cling to him forever and you couldn’t blame it. Your stare wandered freely, perhaps too freely as it left you vulnerable to his intentions. His hands—large and calloused—engulfed most of your waist far too easily.

Oh.”

“Mhm, oh,” he mimicked.

The hand on his chest slid towards his neck whilst you tilted up in expectation of a kiss, lips forming a soft cushion for him but it didn’t come.

Instead, his fingertips moved across your stomach in ticklish sweeps. Higher and higher he moved until he was tickling beneath your arms and caging your writhing body with his and the wall at your back. Unexpected laughter ripped through your throat, torrents of the giggles exploding out of you as he continued his assault with a shit-eating grin.

It was becoming harder to breathe, tears filling your eyes from how relentless he was, and every time you thought you’d managed to wriggle out of his hold it was shutdown.

“Zo-Zoro!! Stop… it!”

He was having far too much fun. If this was what came with a relationship then he could adjust to the other parts that were new to him. After all, he kinda liked that you threw yourself into his arms. Hell if he would admit it, but he adored knowing you zeroed in on his presence the moment you could.

Your laughter was beautiful—a healing balm for the scars not only visible but the ones that he couldn’t even identify. Fuck… maybe he loved you? Ah, that was something to think about another time. Right now, he focused on grasping behind your thighs and lifting you into the air.

Squealing with laughter, you anchored yourself around his neck and gasped for air. Your fingers threaded through the lush green of his hair, gaze softening whilst he walked you towards the bed you shared.

“You win,” you whispered, nose nudging his cheek until he paused.

He won the moment you walked into his life. He wasn’t going to tell you that, not now, but he knew. It was difficult to realise you were missing something until you found it. The swordsman had a goal, a dream and a promise to keep. What he lacked was a reason to stay alive after he fulfilled those dreams and promises—until now.

Zoro nodded. “I always do.”

the og strawhats as random tumblr quotes teehee <3

Bro wtf im alive!!

———————————————————

ONE PIECE MEN

As shit from the groupchat

———————————————————

C/W: swearing, NSFW, mentions of suicide, general shit post stuff.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Robin, Franky, Brook, Chopper, Usopp, Ace, Sabo, buggy, Shanks, Crocodile, Doflomingo

NOTE: Schools back and its been super fucking busy + plus im hyperfixated on bulders gate and game of thrones rn

———————————————————

Luffy: My balls dropped insted

Zoro: Peburty

Zoro: How tf do u spell iy

Zoro: Pubesraty

Zoro: Pubes

———————————————————

Sanji: Valentines more like. Suicide

———————————————————

Buggy: Ur so wacky

Shanks: *wanking

Shanks: 109 mph dick slaming in and out of this dirty half full starbucks cup i stole from a homeless crack addict (im imagining its ur tight boy pussy asshole)

Buggy: Shanks.

Buggy: Stop.

Shanks: Erm no!

———————————————————

Franky: Teachers should NOT say nice things to me (i have a praise kink and daddy issues)

———————————————————

Nami: Bro i gotta shit so bad

Usopp: THEN SHIT BRO

Nami: Im in the car

Usopp: Oh

Usopp: THEN SHIT AT SCHOOL

Nami: I am NOT shitting at school

Usopp: PUSSY

Nami: this was all a trick girls dont shit

———————————————————

Brook: Im so excited to drink today im actually shaking #slotmachines

———————————————————

Luffy: Happy Monday!

Chopper: It is NOT Monday my guy

Luffy: ... the shotgun is in my mouth

———————————————————

Franky: Bc l've got another day off

Franky: Should I come visit

Robin: YES

Franky: Hmmm

Franky: If I get bored I'll ride up

Robin: Then ill ride u up

Franky: What time u guys got recess and lunch

Robin: Get u preggo

Franky: SHIT

Franky: ILL BE THERE

———————————————————

Kid: just punch the customer

Law: nah I need that shit to traumatise them, I need the customer to be rude to me and I start levitating in the air while chanting and blood pouring out my eyes

———————————————————

Kid: When parents let their kids order and its like "what's that fetus, your learning to speak!! Yeah well spell trombone, didn't think so faggot"

———————————————————

Ace: U stick ur dick in ur bum and get urself pregnant

Ace: 2024 lets make it happen

———————————————————

Sabo: "Emo!" So close! I'm actually wearing the skin of your mother

———————————————————

Doflamingo: OK BUDDY DEGRADE ME MORE IM THIS CLOSE TO EXPLODING IN MY PANTS

Crocodile: MOTHERFUCKER WHAT

Crocodile: YOU DIRTY CUNT

Crocodile: WAIT

Crocodile: NO

Crocodile: YOU PERFECT HUMAN BEING

Doflamingo: NGHH (reverse psychologyed your ass)

———————————————————

Sanji: Ouchieeeeeeeeeeee my back hurtsss urghhhhh i wish their was a big sexy latina to sit on my face, only to make the pain go away of course

———————————————————

Nami: Guys i close the store in half an hour and im boooooredde i already finished cleaning wveryhringggg

Robin: Okok pro tip

Robin: Do u have pens?

Robin: Hand sanitizer

Robin: And paper towel

Nami: Im gonna just finger myself

———————————————————

Franky: That was my son 3 years ago before the incident...

Brook: Was the incident me whipping the nae nae! YOLO cash money dab on them fortniters

Franky: No

Franky: Big Foot stepped on my unborn baby

———————————————————

Law: If i die i wanna be reborn as an electric chair

———————————————————

Killer: Cheaters are dick beaters - Shakespeare probably

———————————————————

Sanji: You are quite literally the most cutest girl I've ever seen

Luffy: Bro my dick actully smells so fuckimg bad, it never smells bad do i have aids

———————————————————

The only way I could defend toei (which I shouldn’t, and I agree 100% with what your saying) is that they all have tans that faded over time, which was one theory on twitter. Than again, I think it’s a weak excuse for their racism. This cart represents the white washing problem in one piece animation, and it needs to be fixed now. Another argument could be that the old animation only had certain colors they could work with, which is the biggest load of bullshit, because let’s be honest, it was 1999, not 1899. Thank you for bring this to light. The whole community needs to see this.

made a chart of the straw hats' skin tones with the colors being screencapped directly from the episodes, to show how much they've lightened. this is more than just an "artstyle change" or "design evolution" or "just the timeskip" this is blatant racism/colorism. it's fucking ridiculous and i don't understand how toei is continuously getting away with it please reblog btw, i think this is something people should see

save this middle aged man

their reaction to luffy's dream

it’s feral o’clock my fiends it’s actually 11pm but shhhhhhhh

excuse me whilst i scream into the void,, hE’S SOOOO HOT ASDFGHJ!!

me trying to convince people to watch One Piece like "trust me bro it's smooth sailing once you hit episode 457"

appreciation post for Sabo being fine as hell in this new art style. we EATING

One Piece - new opening & ending scenes

If you want to download them in high quality, you can do it in my telegram channel. There they are in 4k quality ☺️

my links

My heartstrings! Bring back some outfits for the intro is so good, even if it’s only for a brief moment

Our boy is a fashion icon!!!

Pirates are evil? The Marines are righteous? These terms have always changed throughout the course of history! Kids who have never seen peace and kids who have never seen war have different values! Those who stand at the top determine what’s wrong and what’s right! This very place is neutral ground! Justice will prevail, you say? But of course it will! Whoever wins this war becomes justice!

I want to cry so hard. The graphics and the one part where Luffy’s outfits transition into some of his old ones is such a nice and sweet touch. I am all caught up in the manga, but no spoilers from me, just that Egghead is a crazy ride, but a good one to follow Wano in its fantastic foot steps!

The new OP opening looks so fucking cool

I think Sanji's view on feminism is the right and only good way to live as a man. If you're a man I hope you act like him. If you're a lesbian you're probably him too.

Bege’s turn

The most genuine reactions come from the actors who never expected the ending of their play