A Logan X Chubby!reader Blurb

A Logan x chubby!reader blurb <3 let me know if you guys want a part two <3

TW: Suggestive

Edit: part two here

Logan never thought he’d get caught up with a pretty little thing like you.

You’re absolutely precious. Wade’s neighbor directly across from their now shared apartment. You’re shorter than him with the cutest chubby body, your legs and tummy jiggling subtly when you walk. It was enough to kill him, and that’s saying a lot for a man who can’t die.

You’d shared a couple brief greetings in the hallway, a polite smile from you and a nod from him. There was an afternoon him and Wade were walking back from helping the X-men on a mission where the two of them caught you struggling to pad down the stairs, looking nervously around your over-stuffed laundry basket with a focused, worried expression.

Logan didn’t know what came over him— sure, he was told beneath his spiky exterior he had a soft core, but he usually brushed off that comment as nothing more than people trying to make him feel better. Wade was halfway through throwing a teasing comment at you before Logan was already there, gently taking the laundry basket from your grasp and tucking it under his big arm.

Wade let out an over exaggerated gasp, and you immediately tried to reassure Logan you could do it yourself, but he was already headed down the stairs to the laundry room. Thats where you two formally introduced yourself to each other— and also Wade, who had followed the both of you downstairs since his FOMO was chronic.

You were precious, so fucking sweet and kind.

It was driving Logan crazy.

That’s why when Wade approached him asking if he could go over and fix your sink for you— you had asked Wade initially since you knew him better, but Wade told you to wait a moment while he talked to ‘the old ball and chain’— Logan knew that it was going to be a challenge.

Now, Logan wasn’t a plumber or anything, but in the two-hundred something years he’s been alive, you get around when you have to learn to provide for yourself. He took his toolbox he bought a couple weeks ago after Wade lost to the computers in Mario kart and got so pissed he broke the coffee table in the living room, so Logan bought and assembled a new one.

Knocking on your door, Logan found himself actually wondering if he looked okay, if his hair was too much of a mess and if his cowlicks made him look stupid. Little did he know you thought they were absolutely adorable.

You opened the door, blinking before smiling, opening it further and gesturing for him to come in, “Logan, hey!” You greeted softly, and he felt his heart rate speed up at the sight of the slight blush on your chubby cheeks, nodding as he stepped inside, “Sorry, I was expecting Wade,” you said with a small giggle.

Logan shook his head with a grunt, “Fucker can’t fix anything to save his life. Better at breaking shit,” he says, walking over into your sink and setting down the toolbox on the counter. He crouches to open up the cupboards beneath it, and he hears the subtle gulp from you behind him as you observed the muscles of his back flexing under his tight white tank.

“Well, I seriously can’t thank you enough,” you say softly, stammering a bit as you fidgeted with your slightly pudgy hands in front of you. Logan just nods, pushing down the voices in his head that screamed about how fucking cute you were, how he just wanted to grab you by your adorable chubby stomach and pound—

He blinked, grunting before turning back to the pipes, “‘S not a problem,” he says, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. He locates the problem, grabbing the desired tool and twisting a couple parts back into place.

You stood awkwardly behind him, your sweet scent enveloping him, and it was making it hard to focus. You smelt like vanilla, probably some sort of body butter or lotion based on how your skin glistened in the dim light of your apartment.

Focus, dammit.

“…Are you thirsty at all?” Your soft voice asks, and Logan pauses, pulling back out from under the sink to look up at you.

“Water’d be nice,” he nods, watching with a clenched jaw as you smile and pad over to your fridge, cursing softly under his breath at the sight of how your fat, jiggly ass bounced beneath the skirt of your sundress. You walk back over and hand it to him, and he quietly thanks you.

It’s a few more minutes of you standing there and watching him work before he pulls back, putting his tools away and checking the sink, watching as the water flowed out smoothly and patting the edge, “Should be good,” he says, and you grin ear to ear.

“Oh, Logan, thank you!” You say, walking over to where your purse sat on the counter and rifling through it before pulling out your pocketbook, “Let me at least pay you,”

Logan’s eyes briefly widen before he shakes his head, “No, no, you don’t gotta do that, bub,” he reassures, “I don’t do this lookin’ for payment.”

You stop pulling the bills out, “Are you sure?” You ask softly, and he nods. You felt bad not doing anything for him, “Are you sure there’s no way I can pay you back?” You ask, and Logan pauses, visibly tensing up. You tilt your head, unaware of the suggestive undertone of your words.

Yes, Logan thought, you can help me out by wrapping those soft lips around my cock. Logan prayed you couldn’t see the hunger that flashed behind his eyes. He just cleared his throat and shook his head, exchanging a couple more words with you before you thanked him and he went back to his apartment across from yours.

You shut the door and smiled, biting your bottom lip and holding back a giggle.

Maybe you’d mess with your sink on purpose again.

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

we don't talk about this enough

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.”

౨ৎ ⊹˚⋆ currently thinking about . . . . how it’s probably been a while since old man logan has gotten his dick wet; already too preoccupied with his demanding job alongside looking after his longtime friend.

only finding time during the darkest hour of dusk to unleash his pent up stress by harshly tugging at his leaking cock, stroking up and down with vigor. hastily twisting his hand to stimulate the long vein that runs along his shaft.

his nights alone came to an abrupt end once you waltz your way into his isolating life. he can’t wrap his head around how you did it, from offhanded greetings in the parking lot to having small talk in the produce section of the grocery store. you gleefully carried the conversation of course, while his responses were limited to hums and nods of his head.

he wonders what about him appealed to you and how your conveniently timed run ins with him would result in you on your knees before him eagerly planting wet kisses to his tip.

you must be a mutant or a siren of some sort because the way you looked at him through your fluttering lashes, bright tender eyes sweetly scanning his reactions almost has him ready to bust his load on your face.

rather than succumbing to your spell, he grips anything in his reach to keep his composure: the bedsheets, his button down shirt, his scruffy beard, your hair….

then you finally take him in your mouth. your jaw slacks and has a noticeable ache to it while logan sharply hisses through his teeth before loudly grunting as his head slightly tilts back.

“shit, princess,” he mutters. the mere nickname elicits a faint throb in between your legs, your panties already collecting with slick.

your mouth is so warm, a cavern made exclusively for him. his chest heaves and his hips stutter causing him to accidentally buck into your mouth farther than intended, before an apology escapes his lips your tounge delicately swipes over the sensitive vein closest to his cockhead and you swear a muffled whimper could be heard from him.

his glasses begins to fog up a bit as his quick hip stutters turn into full blown thrusts “that’s it, you can take it,” he praises.

his words makes your heart skip a beat, letting him take over and fuck your throat; this is exactly what he needed, no, you’re exactly what he needed.

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

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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