Logans The Type Of Guy To Tell You No If You Ever Tried To Break Up With Him.

Logan’s the type of guy to tell you ‘no’ if you ever tried to break up with him.

working on a Hugh Jackman x reader 🙂‍↕️ it’s gonna be spicy >:)

be my baby | logan howlett x f!reader

summary: logan fucks you in your sundress. warnings/tags: MDNI. this is literally porn. basically no correct lore/lore whatsoever. old man!logan. unspecified age gap. soft daddy!dom logan. sub!reader. daddy kink. dd/lg undertones. pet names (bub, baby, little girl). cockwarming. biting. some manhandling. riding. a smidgen of ass play. a smidgen of innocence kink. size kink. unprotected piv. one (1) spank. creampie. breeding kink. barely proofread. wc: 1.6k

He likes to keep you full. Satisfied. 

There is no stress, no lines of fear or concern painted across your pretty little face when he has you plugged full of his cock. He likes to watch them disappear, like magic, rolling off you in blissful waves when you sink yourself down him and breathe that glorious sigh of reprieve. 

His pretty girl, his perfect girl, who deserves to be a little mindless at the hands of the man who will bear the weight of her worries for her. 

“Eyes on me, bub.” His strong fingers cradle your jaw, tilting it towards him. “There you go, that’s a good little girl. Keep ‘em here.” 

He knew today would be one of those days. When you needed him a little more than usual, in ways others would fail to understand. He saw it the minute he laid eyes on you; the pout of your lips, the downturn of your brows, they called to him from across the room and stirred every instinct inside of him. 

Hours later, he’s finally got you alone, straddled over his thighs on the couch with his cock nestled deep inside of you. The hem of your pretty little dress hiked over the swell of your bare ass, the straps slipping down your shoulders, revealing the slopes of your neck and the swell of your breasts to him. He’s already sunk his teeth into the flesh, marking you, a reminder for all those around you that you already belong to someone. 

Your eyes, which find him on his command, are half-lidded. Dazed, nearly as wet as your lips that you keep biting every time the tip of him kisses your cervix. What were once slick, heavy bounces of your cunt up and down his shaft have now turned into desperate, wavering grinds of your hips. Your thighs tremble, having lost momentum, and your skin is sheen with sweat from the excretion of riding him. 

“Daddy,” you croak, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s putty in your hands. He can’t resist, not when you talk to him like this—fucked out eyes brimming with tears and the sweetest little voice, a siren's song. “C-can’t anymore… need help.” 

He’s been a little mean, having you work for it. But he wants to tire you out, get you good and loose so he can have you completely brainless. Entirely at his disposal. Then, he’ll make you come as many times as it takes until you forget what made your day so troublesome to begin with. 

His massive hands on your hips have remained relatively still, save for the way his calloused fingers dig into the plush of your ass every now and then, spreading your cheeks wide to feel the stretch of your cunt around him, tips just barely teasing the puckered little hole hiding there. He wants to overwhelm your senses; the big breadth of his chest against your body, the intimacy of his touch, the familiar scent of tobacco and leather. It’s dizzying, and he knows it. 

“You need help, baby?” he reiterates, a bit patronizing. You nod dumbly, still desperately trying to chase your high by rocking your hips. He feels you clench every time your clit rubs up against the hair at the base of his cock, shivering above him. The hand on your jaw doesn’t relent, but he lets his thumb slip over your lips, grinning triumphantly when you immediately part them and suck it into your mouth. He's trained you well.

“You gonna keep those eyes open if Daddy helps you? Let him see ‘em when you come?” he asks you, arching a stern brow. You nod again, a bit more eager, moaning a high-pitched promise of mmhm around his thumb. 

He’d be lying if he said he isn’t getting impatient himself. You’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour, and he had not even allowed you to move for the first twenty minutes he filled you. He likes to take his time with you. Break you down bit by bit until you’re malleable, until you beg. The sweet sound of it now breaks a bit of him, too, and he can’t ignore the building urge to brand you on the inside as well as he’s done outside.

“Alright, baby,” he acquiesces, pulling his hands off your face and finding your hips underneath your dress again. “Hold on to me.” 

You obey, wrapping your arms eagerly around his neck, tits pushed up and spilling out of your neckline against his chest. His eyes do a once over of the predicament you’re in, and he knows he’s a bad, bad man for enjoying this sight of you as much as he does. Sweet, young thing drooling around his cock, too impatient to even get your dress fully off of you—he wouldn’t have let you, anyway, content at the vision of pretty floral details and bows while the rest of you succumbed to corruption. 

Once he’s got you balanced in the palms of his hands, he doesn’t give you the opportunity to adjust before he’s lifting you off his cock only to slam you right back down it. You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, and he sets his ceaseless pace. Flesh slaps against flesh when his hips begin to piston up off the cushions, meeting your bouncing body that he manipulates with ease. 

Your jaw unhinges, and he takes in the sight with pride. A rag doll of his choosing, only to be played with by him and him alone. The thought makes him growl, and his lips lean forward to capture one of your bouncing breasts, wrapping around the peaked nipple and sucking it into his mouth. He can feel the pour of nectar stick between your thighs, coating his and the couch below. Eventually, he grows restless, releasing your hips to wrap the entirety of his wingspan around your torso, flushing you taut against his chest with nowhere else to go as he uses your sweet, dripping pussy to his hearts content. 

The sounds of your hiccups and moans do little to drown out the obscene echos of squelching flesh and slapping skin. You do your best to keep your forehead pressed against his, but he takes note of the way your eyes begin to roll in tandem with your fluttering pussy. 

He unravels one of his arms, only long enough to give your ass a firm smack. You yelp and your eyes fly back open, trembling fingers clinging to his hair. 

“On me,” he grits, your only reminder before returning to his punishing pace. 

He knows you’re close when he feels your toes curl against his thigh, when your nails dig into his scalp a bit painful, and your cunt suffocates him. 

“Daddy,” you call again, garbled and hardly intelligible this time. A string of DaddyDaddyDaddy’s follow, and your breath begins to hitch in your throat, like there’s not enough air to keep you breathing. He’s stolen it from you, taken it for himself in hopes of leaving you wanting. 

He’s right there with you, brows pulled in concentration when he feels the familiar clench of his lower abdomen. The tingle that spreads throughout his thighs and pulses through his cock that’s molded to the shape of you. 

“Tell Daddy when you’re coming,” he commands, leaning up to steal your lips in a wet kiss and muttering against them: “Tell him so he knows when to fill this pussy up. That’s what you want, right baby? Want Daddy to fill you up real nice?” 

You try to tell him yes, but it comes out warped, high-pitched, and on the verge of breaking. It’s not even seconds later that you tell him you’re coming, repeating it over and over and over again until he can feel it happening. You squeeze him like a vice, his personal pocket of unmatched pleasure, pulsing and milking around him. You keep your eyes on him, like the good girl you are, though your lashes flutter and falter with the rest of your body that convulses in his stronghold. 

And he can’t help himself, can’t even starve off the buildup for a moment longer, and he's rearing forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Tickling the sweaty skin there with his beard before sinking his teeth into it again. He needs it to muffle the roaring groan that rumbles through his chest, to ground him as his cock begins to twitch and swell inside of you, borderline animalistic in the way his fingers bruise into your ribcage when he spills inside of you. 

He doesn’t stop his thrusts, though they grow shallow and slow. He huffs with each spurt of his release, the growing sensitivity weakening him. But he is bound to it, the pleasure you pull from him. No amount of dominance could diminish that. 

Eventually, the world stills. His breath comes back to him, his senses clear, but he does not move. Does not unfold you from him, nor make any effort to slip away. He listens to the sound of your breathing, quick and sporadic then slowing, shaky and deep. He kisses your hot temples, releases his paws from your flesh, and uses them to soothe up and down the length of your spine. He lets you slump against him, nuzzle up into his chest, body limp and satiated. 

He’ll have you sit like this, full of him, for another while, he thinks. Maybe even until you fall asleep, until the shape of him is built within you, until every last drop of his seed has the chance to be inside of you. 

Maybe this time, it’ll finally take. 

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oh so charles and erik are like lovers okay theyre gay as hell I see ok

I’m glad to know my handlebars legacy carries on 💪

Thinking about referring to Logan's hair tufts as "handle bars"

It happens while the two of you are deeply invested in a movie one night; plot long forgotten as the two of you continue on out of pure boredom.

It'd been a long day anyway, far too exhausting for anything more than a mind-numbing film with little substance.

Your legs are thrown over Logan's lap, and you're sat up against a couple of pillows Logan had stacked up for you.

As the movie plays on, Logan absentmindedly runs the tips of his fingers up and down the lengths of your shins, gently massaging the muscles of your calves here and there.

Your hand simultaneously made its way from massaging the thick of his forearm and bicep to playing with the tips of his dark hair at the nape of his neck.

The sharp tuft of his dark hair catches your eye in the lights filtering in from the kitchen.

Involuntarily, you run the tips of your fingers up and down the length of his hair tuft. Following the angled shape of it and mimicking the strokes of his hair.

Logan doesn't react to your touch, though you know he's definitely aware of it by the way he ever so slightly leans into your hand and applies ample pressure to certain spots of your calve.

The moment is deliciously domestic, settling a warmth into the depth of your being and wrapping you up in itself.

Logan turns to you, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a gentle peck.

The softness of it makes you fall in love with him all over again.

It's short-lived, however, as you teasingly tug at the tuft you've woven your fingers through, humming against his lips.

Logan hisses at the sensation, lips parting staggeredly.

"Oughta put these to good work, huh?" And you know he can hear the smirk in your voice by the way he instantly side eyes you.

He only rolls his eyes in response, closing them when you tug his tuft again at a certain angle.

"Like handle bars almost." You giggle, and he's immediately pushing you away from him with a grunt.

"You're gross," He grumbles, massaging the spot on his head where you'd tugged at his hair, "Brat."

"Oh, come on!" You squeal, jumping to sit on your knees beside him. "Are you grumpy cus' you've got natural handle bars?"

"Stop callin' 'em that!" He pushes you back again only for you to sit back up.

Logan watches you sit back up beside him, your smile wide as you rock from side to side, giggling obnoxiously.

"Don't be grumpy!" You tease back, moving to reach for the tuft again before Logan snaps a hand around your wrist, holding you still.

"Damn motor mouth."

Imagine Logan sucking on your tits like his life depends on it.

You’d both randomly be cuddling when he’d pull up your shirt, just enough to give him access to one breast.

“Lo, what are you doing?” You giggled when his mouth connected to your hardening nipples, sucking in a sharp breath when his tongue ran over it.

He didn’t reply, he just kept sucking your tit like his life depended on it. His hand went up your shirt, groping and kneading the other one.

You felt yourself start getting wet at the contact, moaning a little.

You heard him inhale quickly. You knew he smelled your arousal. “Already, sweetheart?” He chuckled deeply, the vibrations buzzing your nipple.

“Can’t help it, Lo…you make me feel so good.”

His other hand instinctively went to your clothed pussy, rubbing your clit strategically. “So wet f’me,” he noted, going through the top of your waistband and touching your swelling clit directly. “This pussy is mine, yeah baby?”

You nodded, lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“Words, babygirl.”

“It’s yours, Logan. All fucking yours.”

“Damn fuckin’ right it is.”