Swipe Right, Bub

Swipe Right, Bub

Summary: Logan’s usually tough persona crumbles when he gets nervous before your Tinder date, and it’s clear he has no idea how dating apps work.

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Human!Fem-reader Genre              : Fluff

Logan wasn’t sure how the hell he ended up here. Sitting at a bar, staring at his phone like it was about to explode, waiting for a Tinder date. Tinder. He hated that damn app. The whole swiping thing made him feel like an idiot. And the fact he’d even gotten matched? Probably a glitch.

But here he was, in a flannel that was definitely not “date night material” and boots that still had a bit of mud on them. Real smooth.

When the door swung open, you stepped in, scanning the room for him. Logan straightened up like he’d just been caught doing something illegal, but when your eyes landed on him, you smiled. Shit, he thought, she’s way outta my league. You were looking real nice—too nice for someone like him who smelled like cigars and had seen more fights than anyone should in ten lifetimes.

You waved, walking over, and Logan fought the urge to bolt out of the bar. This was stupid. He wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing.

“Hey, Logan, right?” you asked, sliding onto the stool next to him.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” he muttered, already fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

The awkward silence stretched for a beat, and Logan could feel the sweat gathering under his collar. You looked way too comfortable, like you were doing this for fun while he was sitting there trying not to screw up everything.

“First Tinder date?” you asked, clearly amused by his discomfort.

Logan let out a low grunt. “Somethin’ like that. Ain’t exactly my thing.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured.” You grinned, leaning in a bit. “You look like the type who’d smash his phone before swiping right.”

“Almost did,” Logan admitted, running a hand through his wild hair. “Had to get the damn app downloaded twice ‘cause I broke the first phone.”

You laughed—like, full-on laughed—and Logan couldn’t help but smirk a little. At least you weren’t bored.

“So,” you started, leaning on the bar, “you’re, uh, not big on technology then?”

Logan shook his head, his fingers tapping the bar in some anxious rhythm. “Last time I trusted somethin’ mechanical, it was trying to kill me. Ain’t a fan.”

“That sounds... dramatic.”

“You’d be surprised.” He took a swig of his beer, trying to calm down the stupid fluttering in his chest. Was he… nervous? He’d fought in wars, been stabbed more times than he could count, but a simple date was making him sweat like a rookie.

You started chatting, talking about your job, your hobbies, how weird the whole dating app scene was. Logan didn’t say much, but honestly, he didn’t mind. You were easy to listen to. You weren’t pushy, not asking him a ton of questions, and it was nice.

But you noticed after a while, because of course you did. “Oh god, I’m just talking your ear off, aren’t I?” you said, looking a little embarrassed. “I haven’t even asked anything about you.”

Logan just shrugged, trying to act casual. “Don’t mind listenin’. You’re good at it.”

Shit, did that sound creepy? He cleared his throat, hoping you didn’t think he was being weird.

“You sure? I mean, you probably have way more interesting stories than I do. You seem like the type who’s lived a pretty wild life,” you teased, sipping your drink.

Logan gave a small, gruff chuckle. “Yeah, you could say that.” He didn’t exactly want to drop the “I’ve lived for over a century and fought in every war imaginable” bomb. Not the best first date conversation.

But you just smiled, completely oblivious to his internal struggle. “Well, next round, it’s your turn to talk. Fair’s fair, right?”

“Yeah… maybe,” he muttered, looking away. He wasn’t great at the whole “opening up” thing. He’d rather let you ramble about your dog or how you almost burned your apartment down trying to make pasta. That was easy stuff.

You reached out, patting his arm, and Logan stiffened like he’d just been hit with a stun gun.

“Don’t worry,” you said, with that killer smile of yours. “I’m not gonna grill you. But if you ever wanna share any of those stories, I’m all ears.”

Logan tried to play it cool, but the second you touched his arm, his brain short-circuited. Smooth, real smooth, he thought, glaring at his beer like it was to blame for how awkward he was being.

Just then, your phone buzzed, and you glanced down at it, frowning. “Ah, crap, sorry, work’s calling. Gotta run,” you said, standing up. Logan’s heart sank a little. The night was over, and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to not screw things up.

But then, out of nowhere, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. And just like that, the Wolverine—the guy who had metal claws and could heal from a damn nuclear bomb—blushed. Full-on, red-faced, no-way-to-hide-it blushed.

“I had a great time,” you said softly. “Maybe we can do this again?”

Logan, caught completely off guard, could barely form a coherent thought. “Uh, yeah. Sure. If you, uh, want. I mean, yeah. Definitely. Next time.”

You smiled, amused at his sudden inability to speak, and gave a little wave. “Cool. I’ll text you.”

Logan watched you leave, still sitting there, his face burning, his heart doing things it hadn’t done in decades. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face as he muttered to himself, “Holy shit, she’s gonna text me.”

MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier)

One-Shots

Fury

Dominate

Sleep Striker

Primal Claim

Ownership

Forbidden Alliance

Control Room

Winter Shrink

The Wrong Wedding

The Wrong Wedding

Summary: You and Bucky accidentally show up at the wrong wedding after his GPS leads you astray.

Pairing            : Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Genre              : Fluff

It all started with Bucky's insistence that his GPS app was better than mine. He was so confident—borderline cocky—about it. We were supposed to be headed to Steve’s cousin’s wedding, which was in the middle of nowhere, somewhere off a dirt road, in a place with more cows than cell towers.

“Trust me,” Bucky had said, flicking his phone screen with his vibranium fingers. “I’ve been using this app for ages. It’s foolproof.”

Clearly, Bucky hadn’t met the one fool who could outsmart even the most advanced piece of Stark tech: himself.

An hour into the drive, I noticed something was off. The trees were looking... different. Like, spooky, “I’m going to kill you and your super-soldier boyfriend” kind of different.

“Bucky, I don’t think this is the way,” I said, squinting out the window. “Did Steve’s cousin plan their wedding in the middle of a horror movie set?”

He just grunted, glancing over at me for a second. “Relax. We’re fine. GPS says it’s just a few more miles.”

I leaned forward and saw the little blinking dot on his phone. “What does ‘Danger: No Road Access’ mean?”

He blinked. “Probably just a suggestion.”

“Uh-huh. And what about ‘Entering Restricted Area: Authorized Personnel Only’?”

Bucky shrugged, his fingers tapping the steering wheel like he didn’t just guide us into a potential military test site. “It’s fine. Steve’s family is kinda military, right? They probably booked a spot near a base.”

“Right.”

Another fifteen minutes passed, and finally, we pulled into a parking lot filled with cars. There were people milling around, music playing, and... was that a fountain of champagne?

“See?” Bucky smirked, throwing the car in park. “Told you.”

I eyed the fancy decorations and wedding arches. “Steve said his cousin’s wedding was supposed to be a ‘rustic, simple affair.’ This looks like Beyoncé’s vow renewal.”

Bucky frowned, glancing around. “Well... maybe rustic means different things to different people?”

I shot him a look but shrugged. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. But if this isn’t the right wedding, you’re making the speech to the bride and groom.”

“Deal.”

As we got out of the car, Bucky fixed his suit jacket, pulling at the cuffs like he wasn’t used to dressing up. I, on the other hand, was just praying my dress didn’t ride up in the wind as we walked toward the entrance.

The moment we stepped inside, something felt... wrong.

First of all, there were way too many people for Steve’s cousin. Secondly, there was a chocolate fountain. With gold flakes.

I leaned over to Bucky, whispering, “You sure Steve’s cousin isn’t like, the secret heir to a throne or something? This feels kinda royal.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. “Yeah, this seems a little... much.”

Just as we were about to turn around, a woman wearing a glittery, over-the-top dress—clearly tipsy—grabbed Bucky’s arm. “Oh my God, you made it!” she squealed, eyes wide. “Natalie will be so happy!”

I stifled a laugh as Bucky’s face froze in horror. The woman didn’t even give him a chance to respond before dragging us toward the dance floor, where the bride and groom—Natalie and some dude we had never met in our lives—were having their first dance.

“Yep,” I whispered, biting back a smile. “We’re at the wrong wedding.”

Bucky glanced at the bride and groom, then back at me. “You wanna leave?”

“Are you kidding?” I grinned. “Hell no. We’re staying.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Why do I let you talk me into this crap?”

“Because you love me, obviously.” I tugged him toward the open bar, smirking. “Come on, might as well enjoy the free booze.”

We spent the next half hour trying to blend in, sipping champagne and stealing bites of hors d'oeuvres that looked way too fancy for regular humans. Bucky kept looking around, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. I, on the other hand, was living for it.

“So,” I teased, leaning on the bar, “when are you going to make that speech you promised?”

His face went pale. “You were serious about that?”

“Dead serious.”

Before he could protest, the tipsy glittery woman from earlier suddenly appeared, now holding two glasses of champagne. “Oh my God, you have to give a speech! You’re practically family!”

Bucky looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “I’m practically family?”

The woman waved him off. “Natalie will love it! Go, go!”

I shoved him lightly. “Come on, Barnes. Time to shine.”

He groaned but stood up, adjusting his jacket like he was going into battle.

As he took the mic, I could see him searching for something to say. Anything.

“Uh,” Bucky started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “So… weddings, huh?”

I bit my lip to stop from laughing. This was already a trainwreck.

“They’re... great,” he continued, glancing at the bride and groom who were staring at him expectantly. “You know, marriage is like... teamwork. Like... um, the Avengers. You got your Iron Man, who’s always doing his thing, and then there’s Cap—Steve—who’s, uh, really good at giving speeches...”

Oh. My. God.

I buried my face in my hands as Bucky rambled on about superheroes and teamwork, comparing marriage to “coordinating a mission,” and something about “taking down Hydra together.”

By the time he wrapped it up with, “So yeah... uh, congrats, I guess,” the room was dead silent.

Then, suddenly, the bride—Natalie—burst out laughing, clapping her hands. “That was amazing! Best speech ever!”

The rest of the crowd erupted in applause, and I couldn’t stop laughing as Bucky stumbled off the stage, red-faced and glaring at me.

“Did you really just compare marriage to taking down Hydra?” I gasped between fits of laughter.

“Shut up,” he muttered, downing the rest of his champagne. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You love me, remember?”

He grumbled something under his breath, but I saw the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The rest of the night was a blur of dancing, stealing more fancy food, and somehow convincing Bucky to slow dance with me. He wasn’t great at it—he kept stepping on my toes—but seeing the Winter Soldier awkwardly trying to sway to a love song was probably the cutest thing I’d ever witnessed.

By the end of the night, we were sitting by the chocolate fountain, eating cake and pretending we belonged there.

“So,” Bucky said, licking some frosting off his thumb, “wanna tell Steve about how we crashed the wrong wedding?”

I shook my head. “Nope. This is between us. Our little secret.”

He smirked. “Deal.”

As we got up to leave, the bride ran over to us again, giggling as she handed Bucky a massive box of cake. “Take this with you! You guys were so fun, I’m so glad you came!”

Bucky blinked, looking down at the cake. “Uh, thanks?”

And just like that, we walked out of the wrong wedding, carrying more cake than we could eat in a month.

As we got into the car, I glanced over at Bucky, who was still holding the box. “So... GPS app of yours, huh? Foolproof, right?”

He shot me a death glare. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

I grinned, leaning back in my seat as he started the car. “Admit it, Barnes. You had fun.”

He didn’t respond, but the small smile on his face told me everything I needed to know.

And as we drove away from the most ridiculous night ever, I couldn’t help but laugh. Who knew the Winter Soldier could be such a troublemaker?

Feral Obssession

Summary: Logan's animal instincts go wild when Deadpool casually mentions how often you pass by his place—now Logan needs to see for himself.

Pairing            : Worst-Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Prostitute!Fem-reader

Note                : smut, cum play, very rough sex

WORD COUNT: 3k

Logan’s been living with Wade Wilson for a while now, something that would usually drive him to stab something—or someone—on a good day. Between Wade's non-stop mouth and Blind Al’s random pranks, Logan’s patience had worn thin. But lately, it’s not Wade's annoying chatter or Blind Al’s sarcastic remarks keeping him on edge. It’s you.

Wade had mentioned you in passing more than once. Apparently, you walked past their place all the time—coming home late at night, dressed to kill, a body that turned heads wherever you went. And yeah, Wade had made some dirty joke about what you did for a living. But Logan… he couldn’t shake the image from his head. He had to see for himself.

One night, it finally happened. You walked by just as Logan was outside, smoking a cigar on the fire escape. His eyes tracked your movements automatically, almost like a predator on the hunt, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You were in tight jeans that hugged every curve, your top clinging to your body like a second skin. Goddamn, you were something.

And the worst part? You glanced up at him, just for a second, a sly smile teasing your lips before you disappeared into your apartment across the hall. That smile. It stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time—something primal, something dangerous.

Days passed, and every time you passed by, Logan’s instincts got sharper. It was like he could smell you in the air, a heady mix of perfume and something uniquely you. He tried to ignore it, to push it aside. He’d been down this road before, and it never ended well. But damn it, he couldn’t.

One evening, as Logan sat brooding with a whiskey in hand, Wade strolled in, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.

“Hey, Peanut,” Wade started, flipping onto the couch with all the grace of a drunk cat. “You know that smokin’ hot neighbor of ours? The one with the legs for days? She asked about you today.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “The hell’re you talking about, Wade?”

“I’m serious, man! Said she’d noticed you staring like a lovesick puppy. Thought you might want to… you know… get to know her better.” Wade waggled his eyebrows obnoxiously. “You into that kinda thing? ‘Cause I might’ve, uh… mentioned you.”

Logan felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t say anything, just shot Wade a look that could’ve peeled paint. But inside, his mind was racing. You noticed him?

“Come on, man,” Wade continued. “She’s into you. And trust me, with a body like that, she could break you in half.”

Logan grunted, trying to keep his cool. He didn’t want to talk to Wade about this, but something stirred inside him, something he couldn’t shake. Maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

Later that night, Logan found himself standing outside your door, hesitating for the briefest moment. Then, with a deep breath, he knocked.

The door swung open, and there you were. That same teasing smile played on your lips as your eyes met his.

“Logan,” you greeted smoothly, leaning against the doorframe, your voice a sultry purr. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, well… Wade’s a pain in the ass,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “But he wasn’t wrong about you.”

You chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “So, you’ve been watching me, huh? Thought I’d noticed those eyes of yours burning a hole through my clothes.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, and for the first time, he stepped closer, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. “Can’t help it, darlin’. You make it hard not to look.”

You bit your lip, the air thick with heat. “Wanna come in?”

The door closed behind him with a soft click. Inside, it was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls, but the atmosphere was anything but quiet. Logan could feel it in the air, thick with lust, desire coursing through his veins like a drug. He didn’t need to think. He didn’t need to talk. His instincts took over.

“Logan,” you whispered, stepping closer, your hands trailing up his chest. His muscles were solid beneath your touch, his breath catching just slightly. He was so controlled, so contained… but you could feel the raw power beneath the surface.

His hand caught your wrist, gentle but firm. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, dangerous but full of need.

You smirked, eyes gleaming with challenge. “I’ve been sure since I first saw you on that fire escape.”

That was all it took. In a blur of motion, Logan’s lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies pressed together, every touch igniting something deeper, something feral.

His hands roamed over your body, rough but skilled, like he knew exactly how to touch you. You gasped as his fingers trailed down your back, pulling you even closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the restraint, like he was holding himself back from just tearing your clothes off.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire. “Don’t hold back.”

That was all he needed to hear. In one swift motion, he had you against the wall, his mouth hot against your neck, his breath heavy and ragged. His hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, his lips trailing down your chest, leaving a burning path in their wake.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed and bit his way across your skin, his body pressing harder against yours. You could feel the hunger in him, the need, and it mirrored your own. It was like you were feeding off each other, every kiss, every touch building the tension higher and higher.

Before you knew it, you were on the bed, Logan above you, his eyes dark and wild with lust. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he needed you to breathe.

And then, with a growl, he gave in.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself inside you with one deep, slow thrust. The feeling was electric, your body arching against him as you gasped for air. He didn’t move at first, just stayed there, holding you close, his forehead resting against yours as he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You couldn’t respond. You could barely think. All you could feel was him—inside you, around you, filling you completely.

Logan's body moved with precision, each thrust deep and slow, making your breath hitch with every movement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, grounding him as he pressed into you, his rough palms hot against your skin. You could feel the restrained power beneath his muscles, the tension winding tighter and tighter with every second. The air was thick with lust, and you could barely focus on anything except the feeling of him inside you, your body arching up to meet his, desperate for more.

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath heavy and ragged, filled with low growls that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, but it was clear he was losing control too. His restraint was unraveling fast, and you wanted to see him give in completely.

You gasped his name, nails digging into his back as his hips moved faster, the slow burn turning into something more desperate. The feeling was overwhelming, your mind fogging over as pleasure coursed through you, and you could barely form words. But then, he stopped—just for a moment, pulling back, his breath harsh in the silence of the room.

Before you could ask what he was doing, Logan gripped your hips tighter and flipped you over onto your stomach in one swift, effortless move. You gasped, bracing yourself on your hands and knees, and before you could fully adjust, you felt his hands slide down your back, rough fingertips tracing the curve of your ass as he positioned himself behind you. The heat of his body hovered over yours, close but not quite touching, teasing you with his proximity.

Without warning, he thrust back into you, deep and rough this time, making you moan out loud. Your hands gripped the sheets as he set a rhythm, pounding into you from behind, each movement powerful and deliberate. Logan's growls became more primal, echoing in the room as his hips slapped against yours. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back slightly so you could hear the rumble in his voice, feel his breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his words dripping with lust, each syllable punctuated by another hard thrust. The angle was deeper, rougher, and you could barely catch your breath as the pleasure intensified, building in waves that made your whole body tremble.

“Logan,” you moaned his name, unable to hold back the sounds escaping your lips. The sensation of his cock filling you over and over, the way he moved, every part of him screamed dominance, but there was something more behind it—something raw and hungry. It was like he needed you, couldn’t get enough of you, and you fed off that need.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your back. You barely had time to register the change before he was on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress as his lips found yours again in a heated, desperate kiss. His hands roamed your body, gripping your thighs, pulling your legs up around his waist as he positioned himself over you.

Logan’s eyes locked with yours, dark and wild, filled with a kind of intensity that made your heart race. “I want you to look at me when you come,” he growled, voice thick with lust. And then, with one powerful thrust, he was inside you again, filling you completely.

This time, it was missionary, and his movements were slower, more deliberate again, but every thrust hit deeper, the angle perfect. You could feel every inch of him, the heat between your bodies overwhelming as he moved inside you. His lips found your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there, making you gasp and arch into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“You like that, don’t ya?” he muttered against your skin, his voice a low rumble. “Tell me.”

“Yes, Logan… God, yes,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure built again, even more intense than before.

Logan grinned against your neck, his lips trailing down to your chest, his mouth hot against your skin as his pace quickened, his hips driving into you harder now. The angle was perfect, every thrust hitting just right, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His body moved like a machine, powerful and relentless, but there was something deeply intimate about the way he looked at you, the way his hands gripped your hips, holding you close as he took you over the edge.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he groaned, his eyes dark and locked on yours. “Come for me.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your nails digging into his back as the orgasm hit, waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you gasping for breath. Logan’s movements didn’t slow down, his hips still driving into you, prolonging your climax until you were trembling beneath him, completely spent.

Before you could catch your breath, he moved again, shifting you onto your side, your legs tangled together as he pressed against you from behind, his cock still buried deep inside you. His hand slid down your body, gripping your thigh and pulling it over his hip as he thrust into you again, this time slower, deeper, more intimate.

You moaned softly, the sensation overwhelming as he moved inside you from this new angle, his body pressed tightly against yours. His hand slid up your stomach, over your chest, fingers brushing your breasts as he held you close, his breath hot against your ear.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice rough and filled with need. “I could do this all night.”

Logan’s hand slid down your body again, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles as he thrust into you, his pace picking up again. The sensation was too much, and before you knew it, the pressure was building again, another orgasm rising up inside you, ready to explode.

“Logan… I’m gonna…”

“I know,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again. I wanna feel you.”

And with one last thrust, you did.

Logan’s grip on your thigh tightened as you trembled beneath him, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm. His pace hadn’t slowed at all, if anything, it was faster now, more primal, more needy. You could feel it in the way he grunted, the way his hands dug into your skin, like he was barely holding himself back.

“Fuck… you’re gonna make me lose it,” Logan growled, his voice so rough it almost vibrated through your body. He thrust harder, deeper, as if he was trying to pull every ounce of pleasure from you, driving you into a state where you were too lost to even think.

His hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, almost possessive in the way he gripped you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his breath hot in your ear, and the sheer power radiating off him made you feel small in his arms—but in the best way.

“Goddamn it…,” he muttered, and you could feel the tension in his whole body. The muscles in his arms were flexed, veins popping out as he held onto you, like you were the only thing keeping him from coming undone.

His lips brushed against your neck, biting down softly as he pushed into you one last time, deep and hard, holding himself there as a deep growl rumbled from his chest. You could feel the moment he finally gave in, the way his whole body shuddered against yours as he came, the heat of his release filling you, spilling out in hot waves.

Logan’s growl turned into a soft groan, his hips jerking slightly as the last of his control slipped away. For a moment, he didn’t move, just held you there, buried deep inside you, his breath heavy and rough in your ear. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, erratic and wild.

Slowly, his grip on you loosened, his body relaxing as the intensity of the moment began to fade. His lips found the back of your neck again, this time softer, more tender, as he let out a deep sigh, still holding you close.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “That was… fuckin' intense.”

You smiled, still trying to catch your breath, your body trembling with aftershocks. Logan finally pulled out of you, rolling onto his back beside you, his chest still rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. His hand reached over, resting on your hip, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin as the two of you lay there, tangled in the sheets.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the room still thick with the heat of what just happened. You could feel Logan’s eyes on you, but when you glanced over, his gaze was softer, more thoughtful.

You turned to him, smiling lazily, still feeling the afterglow of everything. “Guess Wade was right, huh?” you teased, your voice playful, but Logan just grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Fuckin' Wade,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Bastard won’t shut up about this, will he?”

You laughed, the sound light in the quiet room, and Logan’s lips curved into a small smirk. There was a softness in his expression now, the rough edges smoothed out by the aftermath of it all, but even so, there was still that unmistakable Logan—fierce, untamed, and completely irresistible.

Logan shifted beside you, pulling you closer into his chest, wrapping his arm around you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. His warmth was comforting, and for once, you could feel the tension in him ease, as if, for now, he could just be in the moment with you.

You were still catching your breath, body limp against the sheets, when you felt Logan shift beside you.

And then, with a low, deep growl, Logan dipped his fingers into the wet heat where his cum was still dripping from you.

You shuddered, the sensation sending another jolt of pleasure through your overstimulated body. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, overwhelmed, but then you felt him lift his hand, slick with the evidence of what he’d left inside you.

He smirked, his fingers glistening with his release, and before you could say anything, he pressed them against your chest—right between your breasts. Slowly, deliberately, he smeared it across your skin, leaving a hot, wet trail in his wake. His touch was rough, teasing, and the way his eyes followed every movement made it even hotter.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice husky and low, almost like he was admiring his own handiwork. His hand slid higher, spreading the warmth across your chest, smearing his cum all over your skin, marking you with it. “Fuckin' perfect.”

Your breath hitched as he dragged his fingers down again, leaving no inch untouched. The way he moved was deliberate, slow, making sure you felt every second of it. The heat of his release mixed with the sweat already clinging to your skin, and the sight of Logan watching you, his gaze dark and possessive, only made you ache for more.

He leaned down, his mouth just barely brushing against your ear. “Mine,” he growled softly, his voice rough with need. “You’re mine.”

Most Romantic Gesture

Wade: What’s the most romantic thing you’ve done for her? Logan: I didn’t kill anyone for a whole week. Y/N: That’s a huge deal! Thank you, babe! ❤️ Wade: So basically, he loves you enough to restrain himself from murder? Logan: You make it sound so sweet, Wade.

Babe, You Got This

Summary: Logan might have faced wars, claws, and immortal enemies, but nothing prepared him for his wife going into labor.

Pairing            : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Wife!Human-reader Genre              : Fluff

You’re lying in bed, feeling the occasional twinge in your belly when it hits you like a freight train: Oh shit. Your water just broke.

“LOGAN!” you yell, holding your breath because, damn, this really hurts.

From the kitchen, you hear a clattering of pots. Logan comes bursting through the door, spatula still in hand. “What? What?! What happened?! Is it—oh hell. Oh hell, darlin’, you good?”

You clutch your belly, sweat already dripping down your face, but for some reason, you’re the calm one here. “Yeah, babe, it’s happening. Baby time.” You manage a half-grin through the pain.

Logan, on the other hand, is losing it. “SHIT. Okay, okay, lemme grab the—wait—no, wait, do we have a hospital bag? Where’s the car keys? Where the hell are my pants?!” He’s pacing now, full-on panic mode, mumbling to himself about “damn doctors” and “how the hell did this happen.”

You just sit there, biting your lip, trying not to laugh because watching the big, bad Wolverine freak out is kind of hilarious. “Logan, babe, breathe. Just get me to the car. We’re fine.”

He’s running in and out of the room, still holding that damn spatula, and when he finally finds the car keys, he throws the spatula behind him like it’s a grenade. “Okay, okay, darlin’, we’re gonna get through this. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna—DAMMIT, I SHOULD’VE BEEN THE ONE PREGNANT!”

You blink. “Uh, what?”

Logan’s face is pure desperation. “I mean it! Shoulda been me. You don’t deserve this, I do! You’re too young for this shit. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this pain. I—dammit! Why can’t I be the one carrying the damn baby?!”

At this point, you’re wheezing, both from pain and Logan’s completely ridiculous freak-out. “Babe, that’s… not how it works.”

But he’s already on another train of thought, trying to hoist you out of bed with a mix of adrenaline and sheer terror. “Screw biology. I heal fast! I could’ve popped this kid out in, like, two hours tops! No pain! Why’d I go and knock you up? What the hell’s wrong with me? I’m a monster!”

You giggle in spite of yourself, even as a contraction tightens your entire body. “Babe, stop. I’m fine. Let’s just… go.”

Logan’s still mumbling apologies as he half-drags, half-carries you to the car. When he finally gets behind the wheel, the dude’s sweating more than you are. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and he’s muttering something about “never gonna let you get pregnant again” and “damn doctors better not mess this up.”

He glances at you. “You okay, sweetheart? I mean—fuck—this is my fault. You’re—dammit, I’m sorry, babe.”

“Logan, chill. Focus on driving.”

The next five minutes are pure chaos. Logan speeds through red lights, honking at random pedestrians, cursing every car in his way. “GET THE FUCK OUTTA THE ROAD! I GOT A PREGNANT LADY HERE, MOVE YOUR ASSES!”

You try to calm him down, but honestly, the sight of him panicking over your labor is too good. He’s shouting at no one, eyes darting between the road and you. And then, out of nowhere, the tough guy starts tearing up. Full-on tears.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I never wanted you to hurt. I should’ve… I should’ve done somethin’. Maybe I coulda—oh, goddammit, why couldn’t I carry the kid?”

You laugh, despite the pain. “You? Pregnant? Can you imagine?”

“Don’t even joke about that!” he barks, but there’s a hint of something in his voice—like maybe he actually wishes he could.

When you finally get to the hospital, Logan’s a sweaty mess, practically carrying you through the doors while yelling for help. “HEY! HEY! My wife’s havin’ a baby! Somebody help her!”

The doctors rush you into a room, and suddenly it’s all systems go. Except… Logan doesn’t look so good. He’s pale, eyes wide, muttering something like, “I can’t believe I did this to her,” and—yep, he’s down. He collapses into a chair, one hand clutching his chest like he’s just been shot.

“Logan? Logan!” you call, but he’s already half-unconscious, mumbling apologies.

A nurse rushes over to him, placing an oxygen mask on his face while he’s laying on a hospital bed right beside yours. “We’re gonna take care of him,” she assures you.

For the next twenty minutes, it’s you, the labor pains, and Logan passed out next to you. Every once in a while, he mutters something from his semi-conscious state. “Should’ve… been me. So sorry, babe…”

When it’s finally time to push, Logan snaps awake like he’s missed the most important game of his life. “NO! I’m here! I’m here, darlin’!”

The doctor gives him a side-eye, trying to keep him calm. “Sir, are you sure you want to be in here? You’re not lookin’ too—”

“I’M STAYIN’. NO WAY IN HELL AM I LEAVIN’ HER SIDE.”

He grips your hand, tears streaming down his face. You can barely concentrate through the pain, but you manage to laugh when he whispers, “I’m so sorry, babe. I should’ve been the one. You’re too good for this.”

And then, the baby’s out. Logan’s crying—like, ugly sobbing. “He’s beautiful, darlin’. Oh god, he’s beautiful. Oh God… he’s so damn perfect.”

And then, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, Logan’s eyes roll back, and he drops like a brick, passing out cold on the hospital floor.

The doctor sighs. “Well, there he goes.”

You laugh softly, exhausted but deliriously happy, as they haul Logan onto the bed next to yours, leaving you to marvel at both your baby and your overly dramatic, ridiculously tough husband, who fainted at the sight of his son.