X-men X Reader - Tumblr Posts

pls more logan fluff

puppy love — logan howlett x reader (0.9k)

warnings: slightly suggestive, reader calls logan ‘kitty,’ not proofread

summary: reader asks logan if she can put his hair into ponytails. after a lot of persuading, he says yes.

authors note: fkfntiwiwa i wanna paint my nails pink so bad!! sorry if this isn’t what you’re necessarily asking for, maybe ill make logan fluff hcs sometime. i’m on a trip so im trying to write when i can!

a television show plays in the background of you and logan’s room, though long forgotten about. the only light sources come from the moon peeking from the curtains and the blue light shining from the large screen.

you sit upright, back pressed comfortably against the headboard. next to you, logan lays on his stomach, hands and head placed on the plush pillow. the large scars on his back that he usually hides from the public are now visible, in only your presence.

his large muscles relax, his biceps taking up an impressive amount of space on the bed. the way his arms would flex when doing a simple task makes you warm.

you’re taken out of your headspace when a voice grumbles beside you, “you gonna keep starin’ at my arms or ‘re you gonna tell me what you’re thinkin’ ‘bout?” logan teases.

your face becomes warmer than before, and you chuckle. his eyes slightly open, a teasing look in them. he smirks, proud that he embarrassed you.

an idea quickly invades your mind, “can i put ponytails in your hair?”

he chuckles then stares at you for a moment, expression bewildered, “you’re serious?” his eyebrows furrow upwards.

“please? i’ll make sure no one else sees them, i promise!” you persuade, laying on your stomach and placing your cheek on your pillow. you slowly bring your hand up to his bicep, running your hand along the muscle. “kitty…” you whine and softly kick your feet.

he sighs and begrudgingly agrees, “fine.”

you squeal and press your lips against his cheek, giving him a short and sweet kiss. you state, “thanks, kitty!” and hop down from your bed, heading to your bathroom.

you quickly turn the lights on and open a drawer. you grab a small container, open it, and take three pink hair ties. next to the container lies a small, pink clip-on bow.

holding the ties and bow in your hand, you turn the lights off and walk to your side of the bed. you sit on the bed, placing the bow and ties on the nightstand next to you. you place the soft covers on your legs and rub logan’s back.

“come here,” you pat your lap and hold your arms out to him.

he takes the offer and sits up, moving closer to you, he lifts the covers and grabs the inside of your thigh. he looks up to you, eyes glistening with mischief.

you warn, “lo…”

he huffs and spreads your legs, diving into your arms. he wraps his arms around your waist, already not wanting to let you go. he presses his face into your soft breasts, placing soft kisses on the skin. you giggle at his gentle touch.

you place one of your hands on logan’s bare back, gently rubbing the large space. you reach a hand out to the nightstand, grab one hair tie, and split logan’s hair into two sections. you’re careful not to take his kitty-like ears with it.

you take one section and wrap a hair tie around the large piece. you do the same with the section next to it, both in the middle of his kitty ears.

logan doesn’t complain for a second, knowing you’d complain more if he did so. once he stops feeling your hands tugging on his hair, he kisses your collarbone.

“you done yet?” he asks.

you state, “let me see.” and tilt his chin up.

his dark brown hair looks so odd in your two pink, tiny hair ties. his tired eyes look up at yours, a slight frown on his face.

“cheer up, honey — wait, you’re missing something,” you add.

he groans, head lolling onto your chest. you smile and ‘aww’ at him, softly rubbing his back. you grab the pink clip-on bow from the nightstand and tilt logan’s chin up again.

he opens his eyes and spots the bow, he shakes his head, “you’re not putting that thing on me, bub. no way in hell.”

he moves his head out of your grasp, laying his head back onto your breasts. you gently scratch his scalp, emitting a groan out of him. your lips turn upwards as you see his breathing begins to even.

he softly mumbles against your skin, “get it over with… you can put the bow in my hair…”

you grin at his words, rubbing the nape of his neck. you place the bow near one of his kitty-like ears and smile at your work. gently rubbing his cheek, he leans into your touch, gripping your midsection harder.

you whisper into his hair, “thanks for letting me do your hair, kitty.”

as your hands mess with his hair, he hums and kisses the soft skin of your chest. you grab your phone from the nightstand and take a couple photos of his new hairstyle.

“better not send those to anyone,” he threatens.

you chuckle and reassure, “i won’t, sweetheart. although, you do look really adorable like this.”

you feel his lips turn upwards, then feel kisses being placed on your chest again. you move, laying down on your back, logan laying on top of you. the weight is oddly comfortable, which you would never expect in a lifetime.

scratching his back with your manicured nails, you pull the covers over you and logan. you wrap your arm around his back and place another on his head. you rub your thumb against his scalp when you hear a cat-like noise coming from his chest.

your face warms up, and the noise sounds like he’s purring. his breathing fully evens, eyes closed when you continue to hold him as he holds you.

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 

Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something

a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter

Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)

“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott. 

“What have I told you about scaring me?” 

He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair. 

“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.

You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you. 

“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand. 

You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one. 

Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment. 

The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities. 

More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him. 

It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him. 

Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go. 

Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner. 

You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares. 

Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible. 

“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”

You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod. 

“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table. 

He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him. 

“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”

You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day. 

He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you. 

You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant. 

You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too. 

You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head. 

You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him. 

His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion. 

You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep. 

He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are. 

You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him. 

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that. 

But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them. 

Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes. 

You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school. 

“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts. 

The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled. 

He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him. 

Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him. 

“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him. 

His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”

She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”

Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission. 

She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once. 

“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others. 

You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning. 

Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away. 

“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her. 

“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way. 

She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”

“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?

She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it. 

She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes. 

She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back. 

His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. 

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room. 

Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them. 

He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people. 

He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away. 

He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off. 

You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red. 

“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.

Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you. 

He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again. 

You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. 

“Jean told me.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise. 

He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view. 

“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”

You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is. 

“Thought what?”

You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”

“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it. 

“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”

“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone. 

“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt. 

“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”

You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong. 

“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you. 

His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again. 

He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you. 

To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

Wolverine Headcanons

• he has a Oak pine sent to him because he’s a lumberjack

• he’s hair is super soft spends hours brushing it out to look his best for you 😊

• if your an artist like me you will love this Headcanon: when ever you doing little doodles i your art book he poses for you to give you a full drawing idea

• he talks so much about you at the mansion to the point where professor X and literally everyone asks about you

-Gabriel summers

📣📣📣UNTIL THE PAINT IS FALLING OF THE WALL,IT GONNA BE SHEET GRIPPING, SLOPPY AND STICKY‼️

You're My Girl

Title: You’re My Girl

Word Count: 2450

Warning: Smut, Swearing, reader wears a dress, PIV sex, Oral (F receiving), orgasm denial (female), multiple orgasms, no cuddling or aftercare., a bit of a praise kink,

Fandom: X-Men/Marvel/X-men 97

Pairing: Remy LeBeau/Gambit X Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Request: hi hello I am SO here to provide Remy smut requests. reader gets jealous of Bella Donna flirting with Remy so he has to remind her who his girl REALLY is (also she totally hears them)

Summary: Remy has eyes for Y/N but when the League of Assassins and Guild of Thieves have other plans for him, things don’t go well. Bella Donna has been flirting with Remy all day at their engagement “party” which makes Y/N jealous. When she starts giving him the cold shoulder, he takes her into his room and fucks her within earshot of his fiancé. Remy gets off on the fact that she can hear you two.

A/N: Ah! I love this idea! I will say I have yet to read all of the Gambit comics, but I have watched x-men TAS/97 and have read some of the comics with gambit and belladonna. I’m so stoked to be writing this!!! I squealed when I read this request. My dear ANON, if you have any more requests for any character, please reach out. I might even do a part two to this is you all like it.

Work:

When you were thirteen, you were banished from home after showing the mutant ability to create portals that teleported you and others anywhere you could think of. Jean-Luc LeBeau of the Thieves’ Guild took you in off the streets after witnessing you steal some food from a stand in New Orleans’ French Quarter. He introduced you to his adoptive son and mutant, Remy, a handsome fourteen-year-old. Jean-Luc and Remy taught you the ways of their world, turning you into a master thief.

You had always been attracted to Remy from the moment you met him. Remy was always there for you no matter what. He had a soft spot for you as he too was abandoned for being a mutant. The day you turned eighteen, Remy asked you out on a date. You, being in love with him already, said yes.

Things were going great until Bella Donna Bordeaux entered the scene. Bella Donna was the daughter of a high-ranking member of the Assassin’s Guild, the Thieves’ Guild sworn enemy. She also couldn’t resist Remy’s charm and good looks.

Behind your back, Jean-Luc and Bella Donna’s father arranged a peacemaking marriage between Remy and Bella Donna. When Jean-Luc announced it a few months after you turned twenty-one, you were heartbroken.

A few weeks later they held an engagement party for Remy and Bella Donna which you were forced to attend. This is where you were now. Sitting in the corner near where Remy stood in a suit and tie, you watched as Bella Donna came over and linked her arm with Remy’s. A huge smile was plastered on her face. Remy smirked up at her.

“Oh, Remy, mon amour, would you come meet my friend, she has been just dyin’ to meet you?” She said.

“Uh,” Remy paused for a moment as if unsure to go with her, “Sure. Why not, Cher.”

You rolled your eyes and watched as Bella Donna guided him over to a dark-haired woman almost as beautiful as she was. He extended a hand in greeting which she accepted and shook. You couldn’t hear their whole conversation, just bits and pieces as it was loud in the ballroom of the Thieves’ Guild compound. You were supposed to be socializing but just sat there in the corner by the bar and watched Remy.

Bella Donna was giggling at something Remy said and took her hand and pressed it to his chest in a flirtatious gesture. You heard her say the phrase “be a doll” and then the word “drink”.

He turned to her and said something you couldn’t hear and she replied to him. Remy started to walk to the back of the room towards you and the mini bar. He smiled at you as you sipped your drink.

“Hi Cher,” he greeted you.

“Remy” you said flatly.

Seeing the bartender was busy with someone else, he reached over the counter and poured himself a bourbon. He placed the bottle back over the counter, The bartender came over and asked how she could help.

“An expresso martini for miss Bella Donna, please,” he turned to the bartender and then back to you when she turned to make the martini.

“She looks like she’s having fun.” You nodded in Bella Donna’s direction. Her back was turned and she was having an animated conversation with her friend.

“Yeah she is.” He said wistfully and stared at you for a moment with an undeterminable look on his face for a moment. You shied away from his look and found yourself staring at the ground.

“Sir, the drink,” the bartender pushed out the glass to Remy.

“Yes, thank you, mon ami.” He grabbed the drink from the bar. You watched him as he walked back to Bella Donna and hand her the drink. She smiled at him in thanks.

She sipped the drink slowly and glanced up to see you staring. You overt your eyes for a moment as she set her drink down on the table in front of her. You looked back up as she whispered something in Remy’s ear and held out her hand to him. You can’t help but roll your eyes. He looked up at her and took her hand. He led her over to the dance floor.

A slower song started to play as she held onto his shoulder with one had and his hand with the other. He led her in a slow dance. Bella Donna looked back over to where you were sitting to find you staring at the two of them yet again. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on Remy’s cheek, making your blood boil.

You shot out of your chair and over to the entryway where Jean-Luc stood.

“I’m not feeling that great, Jean-Luc,” you lied, “I have a migraine, is it okay if I lie down for a bit?”

Concerned, Jean-Luc places a hand on your shoulder, “Are you alright, darlin’?”

“I will be,” you said forcing a smile onto your face, “I would just like to lie down in my room for a bit.”

“Yes, go. Go. I will get you when food is being served.” He patted you on the back.

You take one last glance over to Remy and catch his eye. He raises his brow in question. You roll your eyes and portal to the next room over, your bedroom.

Once in your room you let out a sigh and kicked your shoes off. How could he do this to you? How could he just let her flirt with him all evening without even so much as a look at you to see if you were okay? How could he be –

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. You open and see Remy standing there sheepishly. You looked past his shoulder and could see Bella Donna waiting by the entrance to the ballroom.

“What,” you said coldly but let him in. He closed the door behind himself.

“Pa said you weren’t feelin’ good. I came to check on you.” He said lightly.

“Shouldn’t you be out there with your fiancé?” you asked harshly.

Remy sighed and then chuckled, “That’s what this is about, cher?”

You clench your jaw and look away from the man you loved, “Not like you even care.”

“Come on, dats not fair.” He reached out to touch your arm but you backed away.

“She’s been flirting with you all night at the party for your engagement and you don’t even have the balls to ask me how I’m doing,” you spat.

“Cher-” he starts.

“Don’t ‘cher’ me, Remy. We were dating for almost three years before she found a way to get you away from me. And then you pretend that we never were together. That we never even mattered.”

“Y/N,” he said, “We do matter.”

“That’s not how you’re acting. You never even objected to the marriage. You chose her over me.” Frustrated tears brimmed at your eyes.

“Y/N, dat’s not true. Not true at all. I begged Jean-Luc to let me have you. To find a ‘nother way to unite the guilds. He said I will either marry her or get banished without you. And I couldn’t stand the tought of loosin’ ya. It was Sophie’s choice, cher.” He found your eyes with his own and didn’t let them go. “Don’t ya tink for one second that I chose her over you.”

He moved to touch your arm again and you let him this time. You look up at him with watery eyes, “I miss you already”

“I’m right here, cher. Right here.” He pulled you into a hug.

“Don’t leave me Remy. Please.” You said into his chest, “Run away with me.”

“Dey will hunt us down, cher, you know dat.” He said into your hair.

“Let them,” you pulled back and looked at his face.

“Y/N,” he said sadly.

“Remy, I love you. I always have and I always will. Nothing will change that. I want you. No one else. You”

You could see something go off in Remy’s brain the moment you said you loved him. When you finished talking he leaned forward and kissed you hard on the lips. You kiss him back and wrap your arms around his body. He broke the kiss, “I want you too, mon amour.”

Remy shrugged off his suit jacket, placed it on your dresser, and kicked his shoes off. He then walked you back to the bed and you sat down on it. He knelt on either side of your legs and kissed you. His tongue parted your mouth and danced with yours. His fingers danced at the hem of your short dress. It was flowy so the skirt was around you instead of under you.

“You’re so beautiful in this dress cher,” he said between kisses, “but right now I want it off you and on the floor.”

He pulled up the dress up over your head and tossed it to the ground

“You’re my girl, my only girl,” He growled and loosened his tie before sliding it over his head.

He went back to kissing you. As his hand roamed your body you started to undo the buttons to his dress shirt. You pushed the shirt off his body and let it fall to the floor in a heap. He held you to him, stroking up and down your back and then around to your front, grazing your breasts before stopping at your shoulders. He gently pushed you back so that you were lying down and hovered over you.

“I’m gonna want you to scream my name loud enough so she can hear that you’re my girl. So they all can hear that you’re my girl.” He whispered into your ear. He trailed kisses down your neck and stomach and to the waistband of your panties. He replaced his mouth with his hands and slowly slid your panties off. He tossed them aside all while maintaining eye contact with you.

He scooched back so that his head was hovering over your midsection. He lowered his mouth to your core and started to lick at your clit. His hands holding onto your thighs. Your hands moved to his head, removing his hair from his pony tail, and running your fingers through it.

“Oh god your mouth feels so good,” you moaned. He licked long and slow circles down your clit. When he put more pressure on it, your hips bucked and you let out a moan. He grabbed your thighs harder and let out a soft giggle that vibrated against your throbbing bud.

He introduced a finger into your pussy and you arched your back off the bed. He inserted another finger and you groaned out his name.

“Cher, I’m gonna need you to be a bit louder for me. I know you can do that for Remy.” He began pumping his fingers in and out all while lapping at your clit. He introduced one last finger and began a harsh and fast come-hither motion on your g-spot.

“Oh Fuck, Remy!” You shouted.

“Now dats better, mon amour.”

Your breathing hitched and you felt a coil deep in your stomach start to unravel. Your walls started to spasm and contract around his fingers.

“I’m close, baby.” You cried out. But before you could climax he removed his fingers and mouth. You whined in protest.

“Ain’t no way I’m just gonna let you cum on my fingers. I want you to cum on my fucking cock so you remember that you’re my girl.” He pushed himself up off the bed and removed his belt in one fell swoop. He unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down with his boxers revealing a long hard cock glistening with precum.

You sat up and reached for his cock. You opened your mouth but he stopped you with his words, “No cher, tonight’s all about you and your pleasure. Lay back and enjoy.”

He bent down to kiss you as you laid back down on the bed. He teased your wet pussy with his hard cock and then pushed in in one quick thrust.

“Oh, Remy! Yes!” you couldn’t contain your moans.

He began a slow and agonizing pace to let you get adjusted. You wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Ça c’est une bonne fille” he panted. That’s a good girl.

You clenched around his cock at his praise, “Oh, God. I love you Remy.”

“I’m gonna need ya’ to be a bit louder, Y/N,” He grunted, picking up the pace.

He soon began a merciless rhythm with frenzied thrusts and grunts. That familiar feeling of tension came back to your stomach and you hungrily kissed him.

“I’m close, Remy! Please,” You begged loudly.

Please what, cher?” He urged, “use ya’ voice.”

“Please let me come!” you pleaded. The coil tightened, threatening to push you over the edge.

“Go ahead, Y/N,” he howled, “come for me.”

The coil in your stomach shattered, flooding you with pure ecstasy. Your walls clenched around his cock and he swore loudly.

“Merde! Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” he moaned.

“Come for me baby,” You kissed his neck.

He let out a grunt and frantically shoved into you before allowing himself to release his seed into you. He pumped his cum into your pussy with his cock and slowly pulled out of you.

He grabbed some tissues from your nightstand and cleaned your pussy gently. He grabbed more and cleaned himself off.

“Woo, cher, Remy loves ya’ so much!” he exclaimed. He took in the sight of you completely undone on the bed from his doing and smiled, “Whaddya say we go back out there? I wanna see the look on ‘er face.”

You knew who exactly she was. It was Bella Donna. So you smirked and nodded your head. Remy helped you up and dressed you before dressing himself in his now wrinkled suit.

He gave you one last kiss before opening your door and leading you out. Jean-Luc was in the corner with Bella Donna and her father. The moment she saw the two of you she raced over as fast as she could while wearing high heels.

“You fucking man-stealing whore!” Bella Donna yelled at you. She raised a hand to slap you but before she could Remy caught her wrist and tutted in disapproval.

“Uh-uh Bella, you don’t touch her. She’s mine.” Remmy growled and released her hand. She stood flabbergasted as Remy turned to you, “Can I have this dance?” He held out a hand to you and without any hesitation, you took it and he led you onto the dance floor leaving a sputtering Bella Donna at the entrance.

Kurt Wagner is the purest thing and i think a lot about how:

He physically cannot give anyone the middle finger becuase he literally doesnt have any middle fingers.

He's kinda(kinda) permanently signing 'i love you' in sign language becuase of his mutation.

Nurture Me

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: Logan is incredibly confused by the usage of "daddy" in modern relationships. You're often tasked with educating him on new slang, and this time, you're motivated to create a hands-on learning experience for your old man. Warnings: MDNI. 99.9% porn, no use of y/n, age gap, daddy kink, reader is 21+, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, bub, good girl, doll), menion of oral (fem! + male! receiving), dom/sub undertones, mention of subspace, mention of breeding kink. wc: 2.5k

"The only 'daddy' phrase I'm familiar with is "daddy-o,' and last time I checked, we're not stuck in the fuckin' 60s."

You were enjoying the lazy summer heat nuzzled against Logan's chest. The fresh smell of cotton and his masculine musk was disrupting your tranquility. His heartbeat was relaxed until you'd brought it up. It was unfair, really.

Your sorrow was what first intrigued him. He remembered punishing his liver in a dingy bar when the scent of citrus wafted through the saloon-style doors. You were lost, cursing the misleading directions illuminating your phone. From the looks of it, you were lost mentally and emotionally, beyond any geographical point.

You plopped down into the seat next to him, still mumbling profanity under your breath. Usually, Logan didn't interact with other patrons. Anyone who advanced past the acquaintance phase ended up disappointed, hurt, or killed. After you ordered a beer, your weary eyes settled on the man to your left. Flashing a shy smile, you apologized, "Sorry, rough night. I'm not the swearing type." Logan considered addressing you with a meager grunt of affirmation but responded, "Well, I am. What's bothering you? Won 3rd place in Miss America?"

Even in his old age, Logan knew how to compliment a young woman. You blamed your blushing cheeks on the effects of alcohol. Exhaling a winded sigh, you explained, "Ran away from home. Asshole boyfriend. If I did place in Miss America, maybe he wouldn't have hit me so often." You averted your eyes, assuming the man perceived you as a wounded animal. Another statistic. After that, Logan's solo lobo routine wised up real fast. He identified with your misplaced shame, reduced to a victim by an oppressor. Logan knew better than to place a hand on your shoulder, but he did, anyway.

"Nothing pisses me off more than a man hurting a woman. Need someone to teach him a lesson?" Logan didn't offer his services to anyone after being used as a government-sanctioned weapon. Did more harm than good, but your watery eyes activated his protective instincts.

Your shy gaze converted to hopefulness, searching the depths of the older man's eyes for his intentions with you. Satisfied that you found honesty, you replied, "No, thanks. I'm trying to start a clean chapter without blood staining the journey. I'm all out of money, though. . . could use a place to stay."

Logan's heart flipped at the implications. This time, he'd happily pick up a stray and tend to its wounds.

Tracing the woven lines on Logan's beater, you resumed your lesson. "Alright, remember when we first met and you took me in? Nurtured and guided me, even before we were intimate?"

Grumbling a soft, "Mhm. . ." Logan started carding his fingers through your hair, pleased by the memory of your first encounter.

"Well, some people use 'daddy' as a term of endearment. It means you're the dominant person in our relationship and I can be submissive . . .I feel safe enough to give you control. Consent is a priority, so most people create a safeword and check-in throughout sessions. Does that make sense?"

Logan softly removed your hand from his chest and swung you in front of him, swiftly spooning you from behind. He placed his arm over your stomach, pulling you close to his warmth. "Sure does, sweetheart. Do you feel safe now?"

Suddenly, breathing was difficult. A simple motor function destroyed by him manhandling you. Thinking was impossible when he made you feel this way, so vulnerable and pliant to his love.

Logan knew your age difference turned you on immensely. He'd be lying to himself if he pretended he wasn't affected, too. He'd always felt like a dirty old bastard when he had you on your knees, tongue out to catch his release. Wide eyes paired with your signature pigtails. If his regenerative abilities failed him, he'd definitely be sent straight to hell.

Logan's hips jerked forward, his cock hardening at the thought. You let out a surprised shriek.

Smirking, he said, "Need to hear you, doll. Is my girl already overwhelmed?" Logan's mouth grazed the shell of your ear, whispering, "Haven't even touched your cunt yet and you're already wet for me, I can smell it. What was it you wanted to call me?"

With a shuddered breath, you manage to plead, "Daddy. . . I wanna call you daddy . . . God, this is embarrassing. We don't have to do this." You covered your face with your hands after feeling Logan still his hips. Tears began rolling down your face at the thought of Logan being weirded out by your request.

Sensing your hesitation, Logan reassured, "Hey, hey . . . shhh. Bub, there's nothing to be ashamed of. What turns you on turns me on. The fact that you want to try any of this with an old guy like me is a miracle."

He wiped your tears away with his palms, cooing in your ear, "Had to stop moving 'cause I would've came in my pants, and I'd much rather cum in your sweet pussy."

You gasped at the stream of dirty talk pouring out of his mouth. He was never comfortable vocalizing his desire when you first made love, but after he learned how wet it made you, he made it a habit.

The sight of your tears shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did, but fuck, he now identified as your dom. The modern age has a few benefits. He wanted to ruin and nurture you simultaneously.

"Would it be okay if I got rid of these clothes for you?" Logan asked, fingers ghosting over your lingerie. You quickly nodded, but Logan needed more. "Ah ah. . .use your words."

You squeezed the arm that was still draped over your stomach. "Yes, Logan. You can get rid of 'em. Thank you for checking in." Still enveloping you, Logan quickly undressed you. The perks of having an adamantium skeleton included shrugging off your bra and panties without needing to lift his body from the mattress. The swift snikt! sound of his claws sent throbs of pleasure to your pussy. So much for being embarrassed.

"Hey!" You yelled. "Those were my favorite panties!"

Logan playfully rolled his eyes. "You look better without 'em. Now stay in that position while I take off my clothes. Think you can do that, bub?"

You bit your lip, heart pounding at the nickname usually reserved for more innocent activities. You respond, "Yes, daddy . . . won't move."

He groaned, loving the sound of his new title coating your lips. "Fuck. Good girl." More enticing sounds invaded your ears. The soft rustle of his beater, his belt haphazardly pulled through the belt loops of his jeans and falling to the floor with a "clink." Deprived of sight, you were gifted sound. And jesus, you were thankful.

Logan began teasing the head of his cock before fisting the shaft, imagining your lips wrapped around it, slick with spit and precum. You could hear the soft squelches of his own spit lubricating his cock and felt charitable.

"Logan, let me taste you. Wanna be good for you."

Usually, Logan would make you beg for his cock. Tongue flat against the folds of your pussy, kissing your clit with enough pressure to bring you to the edge, over and over again until you couldn't take it anymore.

This time, he couldn't resist the obedience emanating from your voice. Something about you discussing this new dynamic in your relationship flipped a switch in his mind. He'd always protected and guided you, focused on your pleasure above all else. Now it was time to fulfill the dominant role and indulge in your body.

Logan walked to your side of the bed, still fisting his cock. With your body still laying on one side, he beckoned you to move closer to the edge.

"So good for me, tongue out and ready for daddy's cock. Tap on my thigh if you need to breathe, okay?" Logan smacked the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue, enjoying your mewls of anticipation. With one slow thrust of his hips, you took his cock into your mouth, tongue darting along its veins and wrapping around the girth.

Logan was already close. You could tell by the placement of his hands that were mindlessly rubbing your ears, cheeks, and back. He let out a hurried groan and pulled away.

"Oh, fuckkk. Holy shit, doll, you tryin' to kill me?" You gave a terse nod before launching forward to place kitten licks on his tip. Cock bobbing with the sudden pressure, Logan swiftly picked you up and tossed you onto the bed, tits bouncing with the impact.

"That's enough. I won't make it long if you keep doing that. Like I said before, I wanna cum in your pretty little pussy. I'm a man of my word, bub."

Even with Logan tugging your ankles to rest on his shoulders, you felt safe, taken cared of. You weren't sure if this was what people referred to as "subspace," but your mind was too hazy with pleasure to care. You just wanted to feel connected with Logan, in mind, body, and spirit.

Pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, Logan knit his eyebrows together in a worried expression. "You okay, bub? 'M Not hurting you, am I?"

Logan's cock twitched at the feeling of your hand caressing his thigh. You sighed, "I'm more than okay, Logan. Need you. . ." You bashfully looked away momentarily before clarifying, ". . . Need your cock."

Logan wanted to pinch himself. Pretty young thing like you, begging for his cock. He didn't deserve this. Used to deprive himself of pleasure, decades of guilt hindering any joy. As if hearing his thoughts, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling his leaking cock dangerously close to your core. "You gonna fuck me or not, old man?"

He snapped, lewdly spitting onto your pussy. Logan grunted, "Think any old man can do this?" Holding the base of his heavy cock, Logan plunged into your pussy, splitting you open in mere seconds.

You needed little prep. Your pussy was practically drooling for his cock, and thankfully, Logan's restraint was dwindling. Fast.

The audible noise of your wet pussy encouraged Logan to fuck you deeper into the mattress.

"You were made for me, doll. You're so--fuckin'. . ." each word was punctuated by a heavy thrust. ". . .tight! Ohhh, my girl's too fucked out to talk, hm? Tell me what you need."

Your pussy was sobbing and tears overwhelmed the innocent flush on your cheeks. Anyone else would assume you were in pain, but the small smile plastered on your face told Logan that you were enjoying yourself.

Forcing yourself to maintain eye contact, you respond, "I want you to cum . . . inside of me. Wanna feel stuffed --" Logan purposefully thrust his cock to the hilt of your pussy, shooting a smug grin that made you roll your eyes. You continued, ". . . Fuck, daddy. Stuff me with your cum, I won't waste any of it. . . wanna take care of you like you do for me."

Logan wiped away your tears and leaned down to sloppily kiss you. "Thank you for using your words. Good girl."

You wantonly played with your clit, slowly building up the familiar pressure that threatened to explode. Logan noticed and swatted your hand away, resuming his thrusts while circling your clit.

"Let daddy take care of you, Bub." Your eyes rolled back into your head as your arms clawed Logan's back.

As you drew blood from the rugged expanse of his back, Logan made a mental note that his cock twitched from the rough action. Something new to experiment with later.

You were losing yourself in the hazy experience of Logan bullying his cock into you, igniting every nerve and making you feel alive. Before you met him, your internal monologue was insecure, afraid of fleeing the only world that you knew. Somehow, within the first hour of meeting Logan, you knew he would nurture you. Deflect any self-degrading thought you gave a voice to. Now, you smiled, knowing that you chose the right man to foster a real home with.

The uneven thrusts of Logan's cock pulled you out of your reverie.

"I'm -- fuck, I won't last much longer, sweetheart. I need you to come first. Can you do that for me? For daddy?" He traced the outline of your lips before slipping his fingers inside, collecting your spit.

Bringing his fingers to your pussy, Logan continued rubbing your clit. He added some of his own, crudely spitting again into your open cunt.

He playfully slapped your pussy, earning a debauched whine. You came, pussy fluttering around Logan's heavy cock. Slumped into the human crater of your bed, you let Logan chase his release.

"Ohhh, fuck. Pussy was already tight, you're practically choking my cock now."

The hypnotizing pattern of thrusts were magnified when Logan's face buried in the inviting expanse of your neck.

"I can't wait to paint your pretty pussy. You're so good to me, y'know that? Don't know what I'd do without you."

The cacophony of moans and grunts surrounded the both of you like an intense echo chamber, amplifying each other's pleasure.

You managed to thread your legs around Logan's back once again with the last reserve of your strength, pushing his cock impossibly deep into your eager cunt. Forcing Logan to look at where you were both connected, you teased, "You're a dirty old man, Logan. . .fucking a stray girl you met in a bar . . ."

Your words left him speechless. His wild eyes flitted between yours and the junction of his cock and your sweet, heavenly pussy.

You pulled his head down to meet yours and whispered, "Cum for me, daddy. Wanna feel you everywhere . . ."

With a strained moan, Logan buried himself in your tight cunt and gave short, frantic thrusts during his release. His cock seemed to twitch forever, sending ropes of white-hot cum into your pussy.

After catching his breath, Logan slowly pulled out, mesmerized by remnants of his release staining the sheets below your cunt. He tried his best to collect it and pushed his thick fingers back into your pussy, hoping it would take.

Okay, another kink to take a mental note of.

Logan kissed you lovingly, pushing away a few strands of hair from your face before flipping over on the bed alongside you. You needed to clean up, but were too blissfully fucked out to move.

"Okay, bub. I think I get the whole 'daddy' thing, now."

You bit your lip. "Mm, yes . . . that was so hot. Thanks for indulging me."

Noticing his release coating your thighs, Logan proposed to pick you up bridal style and march you to the shower. You usually play music to accompany your "everything" showers, but have never used it when you showered together.

"Now, you think you can teach an old man how to connect your bluetooth shower head to Spotify? Whatever the hell 'Spotify' is?"

If you read this far, thank you so much! This is my 1st fic ever. I love to write and the Logan brain rot has taken over my mind. Any requests/asks/random thoughts are welcome!

Reclaimed Innocence

Old Man Logan x stripper fem!reader

Summary: Logan's limo gig forces him to follow a bachelor party into a seedy club where you're working the late shift. The other patrons might not notice, but it's your first day at work. Logan can tell the second your eyes meet. Warnings: MDNI. 99.9% porn, no use of y/n, age gap, reader is 21+, unprotected p in v, riding, cockwarming, oral (fem!receiving), innocence kink, mention of past SA + loss of virginity, limp bizkit + snow strippers lyrics I was an og ss fan pls, logan wants to save reader from creeps (he's a perv good guy). wc: 2.5k

The brash chorus of nu-metal serenaded Logan on the way to his last stop of the night. As far as gigs go, playing chauffeur was infinitely more relaxing than trying to save a world that feared him. Not that he could, anyway.

No human contact, and if you interact Your life is on contract Your best bet is to stay away, motherfucker!

Terminal adamantium poisoning. Logan stormed out of the hospital with IV tubes trailing behind him.

Puffs of hazy smoke shrouded the backseat of his limo. The chaotic bachelor party served as yet another reminder of his dwindling mortality.

Slowing to a stop at the VIP drop-off entrance, the drunk bachelor slurred, "Let's fuckin' GO! Drinks on me, fellas!" Various hoots and yells accompanied his excitement. Sneaking a glance from the rear view mirror, Logan heard him continue, "And no phones. Don't want your bitches to catch us red-handed."

Logan sighed, eyes rolling at his crude remark. Chivalry is dead.

The bachelor plunked a wad of cash into Logan's palm before commanding, "That covers your fee for the next four hours. I'm feelin' a little generous, last night of freedom an' all. You're joining us."

The man's request annoyed Logan. All he wanted to do was down a pack of beer and crash at home. Expecting an idiotic answer, Logan asked, "Why the hell would you want an old guy like me to tag along? Didn't sign up to babysit your ass."

Smirking, the bachelor responded, "Old guys are pussy magnets. You'd be helping us all out. Besides, I'm not askin'. I know who you are."

Logan's lips parted in a moment of shock and understanding.

"Hang out, or I'll call the feds," he continued.

Shoving the blood money into his pocket, Logan grudgingly followed the men into the club.

Logan's something of a dive bar connoisseur, but this joint made his skin crawl. Men brazenly groped themselves, ogling the female servers. Furniture stained with irregular white splotches that Logan prays isn't cum.

The bachelor tugged Logan's arm, leading him to the ascending VIP lounge.

"VIP my ass," Logan muttered, observing the leering eyes of the men. They had more money, but they were just as dirty as the scum downstairs.

A hazy fog of strobe lights parted to reveal a woman languidly dancing, illuminated by a flickering spotlight.

Controlled drum beats accompanied a sensual arrangement of industrial sounds.

It's like I waited too long But all the scars you can see They're permanent and I'm not I want an innocent love The rest of time But all the scars you can see when I take my clothes off

Stealing a glass of whiskey from a server's tray, Logan slumped into the plush upholstery opposite the stage. The bachelor party was busy mentally undressing the performer. Logan followed their eyes and almost shattered the cup.

Your flushed cheeks and girly lingerie provided a harsh contrast against the grimy environment of the club. Logan felt guilty watching you hesitantly sway to the beat. Your eyes darted between the lustful eyes of the men, desperately searching for an anchor point. Anything to calm your nerves.

Settling on an older man whose eyes seemed more pitiful than ravenous, you maintained eye contact until the end of your set. Tears threatened to ruin your mascara.

Once the music transitioned to the next performer's playlist, you managed to descend from the stage and stumble into your dressing room without concerning the manager.

Logan sprung up from the bench, determined to follow the soft light emanating from your room. The bachelor party did nothing to stop him, busy with the poor girls they managed to meet in the lounge.

You seemed so shy, afraid even . . . Logan's bad habits included excessive alcohol consumption and a need to comfort wounded animals.

Although the door was slightly ajar, he still knocked out of respect for your privacy. "You decent, kid?"

A faint, "Yeah . . . come in and close the door, 'kay?" encouraged Logan to cross the threshold.

You donned an over-sized shirt to cover the frilly bikini top, but your tiny pink panties were on display. Garter, too. Logan silently chastised his cock for twitching at the visual.

You faced the vanity mirror to re-apply your makeup. The click of the door lock sent a pleasant shiver down your arms. You secretly hoped the voice belonged to the older man. A mature, guiding force was exactly what you needed.

Logan was transfixed by the slow drag of lipstick against your lips. He caught your eyes in the mirror, and you rewarded his gaze with a demure smile.

"Did you enjoy the show, Mr . . .?" you faltered, wanting to disrupt the charged silence.

"Just Logan's fine. Wouldn't say I enjoyed it, you seemed a little uneasy . . ." Trying to justify his actions he added, "Wanted to check on you."

You spun around to face the man. "I'm fine, thank you. Just not used to feeling like a piece of meat," you snarled.

Logan spotted a sofa with a similar pattern to the furniture in the lounge. Although he was certain they were cum stains, he sat down, wanting to be closer to you. It was located at an angle next to the vanity, gifting Logan an unobstructed view of your profile.

He asked, "What's a young woman like you doing in a joint like this, anyway? Didn't exactly look like you were havin' the time of your life."

You felt safe to elaborate, "One of my friends used to work here. Flaunted stacks of hundreds after every shift. I decided between poverty and happiness."

Logan's tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. That couldn't be the only reason you chose to work here. He curiously wondered, "That's it? Sure, rent is high, but not that high. This area's not exactly Beverly Hills."

Your eyes faltered from Logan's, now fixed on the space beyond his ear. Your body unconsciously folded into itself, arms bracing around your knees. "My boyfriend . . . ex, boyfriend, stole my virginity. Guess consent wasn't in his vocabulary."

The tears that threatened to spill onstage fell in steady drops.

Head in your hands, you continued, "It could've been so sweet. I'd always imagined my first time would be with someone I loved. He used my purity against me. I had no idea . . ."

Logan's heart dropped in the depths of his stomach. He gently whispered, "I'm sorry, doll. Truly."

In a breathy gasp, you explained, "He made me feel dirty . . . exposed. Figured I'd at least earn money for it.

Softly prying your hands away from your face, Logan asked, "Is this okay?" Your story enraged him. Logan was determined to gift you a sweet, consensual sexual experience if you let him.

Nodding, you forced yourself to observe Logan's rugged features. He was definitely older than you, crow's feet gently creasing as he offered a small smile.

"Want me to take care of ya? Your first time doesn't have to be with a self-absorbed prick. You have the power to reclaim it, you know?"

Now it was Logan's turn to be shy. His intentions were good, but his body was practically short-circuiting at the thought of pleasuring you. He'd do anything to help repair your fear of intimacy.

You leaned forward, capturing his mouth in a soft kiss. A ribbon of spit connected your lips.

"I'd love that, Logan. Wanna forget him . . ." you drawled, leaning to whisper in his ear, "You make me feel so safe . . . When I spotted you in the crowd, I knew you were different. Need someone older to take care of me."

With your consent, Logan felt brazen enough to undress. You watched as his strong fingers unbuttoned his dress shirt, followed by the black blazer that hid the taut muscles of his arms. A simple beater adorned his torso.

Instead of tossing them aside, Logan spread them over the sofa. "You deserve to sit somewhere clean, doll." You shifted to the sofa, palms resting on your knees.

"Okay, princess, can you spread your knees for me? Wanna taste you."

A faint blush rises on your cheeks. Noticing their tint, Logan adds, "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. Just say 'no' and we'll stop. No judgement."

"It's not that, it's just . . ." you paused, averting your eyes. "He never kissed me down . . . there."

Logan swore to himself that he'd find the bastard and make him rue the day he was born.

His knees hit the floor with an unceremonious thunk. "You mean . . ." Logan deftly swirled your clit over your underwear. ". . . down here?"

Peering up at your eyes, Logan watched for any signs of distress.

You bit your lip and knitted your eyebrows together, silently hoping for more.

"Ah, ah . . . need to hear you, baby," Logan cooed, prompting you to buck up into his palm.

"Oh my god, Logan. No, he never played with me. Only played with my feelings," you huffed. Pushing your panties aside and exposing your wet pussy, you continued, "I'm giving you permission to touch me however you want . . . I trust you. 'M so sensitive, it hurts."

Logan thought the adamantium poisoning somehow traveled to his brain. He must be hallucinating the sounds cascading from your mouth.

"Good girl, using your words. If you need me to stop, just tap my cheek, okay?"

Logan flattened his tongue and licked from your hole to your clit. He devoured your cunt, lost in the way your hands carded through his hair. Logan growled into your pussy when you continued bucking into his touch.

You were ready for his fingers. The wetness coating his clothes would raise concerns from the dry cleaners, but hell, he didn't give a fuck.

Curling two fingers into your cunt, Logan maintained a steady rhythm that made you feel dizzy with pleasure.

Your pussy clamped down onto his thick fingers, signaling your imminent release.

"My sweet, sweet girl," Logan moaned, directly onto your cunt. His tongue continued to play with your clit, expertly alternating between sharp flicks and gentle sucking.

Your hands lovingly traced the contours of Logan's cheeks. You came with a high-pitched mewl.

Logan lapped up your release like a starved man, presenting his harvest on the tip of his tongue before swallowing it with a smirk.

You were deeply thankful that Logan could manhandle you into the next position because your legs failed to work after the intense orgasm he gave you.

Logan picked you up by your waist and swung you on top of his lap. "I still don't want you to sit on the sofa. Too dirty for my perfect girl," he explained. Your tits spilled onto his broad chest.

Wanting to feel closer to him, you crossed your arms and lifted off your shirt. Logan's rough hands cupped your breasts like they were ripe fruits waiting to be picked.

The analogy wasn't far off from how you smelled. He breathed in the faint peach scent radiating from your hair.

Throwing your arms around his neck, you whispered into his ear, "I want you to use me . . . it's different with you. I feel vulnerable, in a good way."

Logan knew exactly what you needed.

He reached under your thighs and threw your underwear onto the vanity. Then, he pushed his jeans and boxers far enough to free his hard cock. His old age might've stunted his healing capabilities, but the act of pleasing an eager woman still made his cock swell.

You couldn't help but stare at the tool that was about to split you open. The head was flushed, adopting red and purple hues in place of the usual tanned skin. Prominent veins decorated his girth. You bit your lip at the sight of precum and Logan thought the size worried you.

"I know it's big, but you can take it, sweetheart. If it's too much, let me know and we'll stop. Okay?" He planted a quick kiss on your lips and then focused his gaze on your core.

Logan lifted your ass with one hand and grasped his cock with the other. You sunk onto his dick with a fluttering sigh.

Wrapping both arms around your waist, Logan pulled you forward until your chin rested on the expanse of his neck.

"Let me do all the work, princess. Relax for me . . ." he insisted.

You angled your hips, providing ample space between your pussy and the base of Logan's cock.

Logan groaned as his hips bucked into your heat.

He whispered sweet everythings into your ear while he fucked you frantically.

"Jesus, oh, fuck . . . Baby, I've never had pussy like yours before. She was made for me . . . so fuckin' tight."

Your needy whine echoed throughout the room and Logan prayed to God that the ignorant bachelor party heard you. Heard him worshiping your young cunt.

Logan's hips were rising higher and higher, bullying his cock into you with firmer thrusts.

"How 'bout I take care of you forever? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked, genuine in his proposal.

It was difficult to answer in a cohesive manner when your cunt was being stretched to the muscle memory of the older man's cock.

"I -ugh . . . I'd love that. Need someone to guide me," you choke out, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"Guys my age are fucking assho -" a twitch of Logan's cock made you hitch your breath.

"Assholes," you both finish.

Logan could tell you were close. You started chanting his name like an ancient hymn

"Logan, ah, logan . . . fuuuuck. Logan!" You exclaimed, pulsing around his cock.

The lewd sound of your wet pussy meeting his cock accompanied the haze of your second orgasm.

Logan wasn't far behind. Spurred on by your heavenly moans, he rapidly thrust into your cunt until he felt himself shudder, shooting erratic loads of cum into you.

A few minutes passed, and his cock was still spurting ropes of his release into your clenching embrace.

He moved to pull out, but you lowered yourself back onto his softening cock.

"I wanna stay connected with you. Want to be connected, in every way possible." Your eyes pulled back from the junction of his neck, anxiously awaiting his response.

Most boys would avoid being intimate with someone as inexperienced as you, but Logan was no boy. He'd lived for two centuries and served in all the great wars. He knew how important it was to keep precious gems like you close.

"I do, too, baby. I've got you 'til the end."

You both drifted to sleep, the shared warmth confirming your mutual promise.

Thank you so much for reading! I made a masterlist (check pinned post.) Reblogs, notes, and comments are extremely appreciated. Feel free to ask for any fic, or just send a thot if you want to chat!

Meet-Cute

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

Summary: Failed talking stages inspire you to meet someone irl. Riding an older man in the backseat of his limo makes you forget about the immature boys who ghosted you on Hinge. Meet-Cute Ch. 2 Warnings: MDNI, 99.9% porn, no use of y/n, age gap, reader is 21+, fingering, riding, size difference, praise kink, pet names (doll, baby, sweet/good girl, sweetheart), unprotected p in v, light slapping, oral (male! receiving), creampie, car sex (nobody's around tho), logan's slutty glasses. wc: 3k

Hinge. The app designed to be deleted. You smiled as you pushed the cart, daydreaming about chucking your phone into the nearest lake. The few matches that you received often ghosted you after a week, afraid of committing to a real date.

So here you were, aimlessly strolling through a grocery store. Desperately begging the universe for a real man.

You spent an embarrassingly long time curating the perfect outfit to attract a guy worth your time. Casual enough for a quick errand, but still chic. I want to be with someone who admires my confidence. They shouldn't reprimand me for expressing myself.

That's how the feminist part of your brain explained your attire. The other touch-starved half, however, wanted to wear the shortest skirt you owned just to feel men stare holes through it.

You turned into the bakery aisle and pretended to evaluate the nutritional contents of a massive chocolate cake. Maybe this could be plan B, if tonight's endeavor was hopeless.

The comforting hum of fluorescent lights softened the sterile environment around you. Memories of simpler times floated in your mind. Handmade school lunches. Gentle kisses placed on your knee after a bad fall. You closed your eyes, lulled by the promises of love you were granted as a child. Now an adult, you yearned for a partner that could nurture you in a romantic way.

Logan overheard a bag of produce spill onto the floor as he picked up a shopping basket. The cashier dropped it when he saw Logan's blood-stained dress shirt.

Mumbling a string of profanity, he decided to release some steam. "Show's over!" he snapped, flippantly tossing his right arm behind him.

Ignoring the shocked gasps of the other shoppers, Logan sulked further into the store in search of something to soothe his palate.

His doctor tentatively ordered him to "lay off the booze," a suggestion that left three deep puncture wounds in the drywall of his office. Alcohol numbed the emotional and physical pain that plagued him, but it also further delayed his healing powers.

Logan's skeleton was withering away, and all he wanted was a fucking sweet treat.

Your body braced for impact as your chest made contact with a shopper haphazardly turning into the aisle. After dropping the cake onto the pristine white tile, you closed your eyes again, salvaging the moment of peace that was stolen from you.

"Hey, watch where you're going, asshole." You reluctantly opened your eyes and were met with the solid torso of a man.

Slowly raking your gaze up his body, you raised your eyebrows at the sight of his bloody shirt before meeting his narrowed eyes.

Crows feet radiating from the corners. Prescription glasses. He appeared much older than you expected from your brief contact with his chest.

You silently cursed your luck. This meet-cute plan was steadily evolving into a meet-angry situation.

"Not smart to close your eyes in public," he huffed, staring pointedly at the fallen cake. It was hard not to notice your mini skirt. He hasn't seen a skirt that short since the 60s.

Although you had pulled away from him, the man's eyes lingered on your chest. The playful baby-doll top hugged your cleavage in all the right places. Your glossy lips donned a similar shade of pink. He quickly resumed eye contact, feeling like a dirty old man for imagining them wrapped around his cock.

She's too young, you sick fuck. Logan's internal monologue worked overtime to maintain a shred of decency.

Your face turned away from him at the impending embarrassment you were about to put yourself through. Smirking, you shyly retorted, "Not smart to stare at a girl's tits in public." You gently pushed up his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose.

Closing the gap between your chests, you tip-toed to reach his ear before whispering, "It's okay . . . I want you to."

The answer to Logan's suffering was sweeter than any slice of cake he could have indulged in. A pretty little thing was actually flirting with him, a cynical ex-soldier worn by the unforgiving rings of time.

Logan's hands found the back of your elbows and slowly pulled you closer to him. You gasped as you felt his belt buckle catch on the flimsy fabric of your top.

"Careful, doll," he grunted, leaning down to meet the side of your face. "I'm old enough to be your father."

You defiantly peered up at him through your lashes. "Yeah, and . . .?"

The man slowly distanced himself from you, gently tugging the hem of your top down to its original state.

Okay, definitely not the best response to seduce an older man. You chewed the inside of your cheek, stunned by your juvenile comeback.

"I'm sorry, kid. Forget I said anything," he muttered before turning into another aisle. He mentally kicked himself for letting the interaction go that far. Although his aching body and mind yearned for some relief, he wouldn't take advantage of some young girl.

He hurriedly stomped past the cashiers, swiping a few cigars from a distracted employee's station.

After the initial shock wore off, you quickly followed the older man to the parking lot. Totally not stalker-ish at all, right?

You wanted to take care of him. His reluctance to return your lust-sick gaze should have deterred you, but it only made you more desperate.

You watched as his hands dug into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. The chipper click of the limo doors unlocking motivated you to get his attention.

"Hey! Can we talk?" You yelled, raising an outstretched palm to stop him from getting inside the car.

Logan froze at the sound of your voice. He contemplated being responsible, slamming his door and driving off without a second glance.

The gentle pressure of your hand wrapping around his wrist made him think extremely irresponsible thoughts.

Turning around to meet your gaze, the older man swiftly opened the passenger door. "Get in. Now," he growled.

Words betrayed you. All you responded with was a surprised squeak as he used your grip on his wrist to push you further into the vehicle.

His eyes widened as you briefly parted your thighs to get settled in the lush leather seat. The sinfully short hem of your skirt bunched up, revealing your underwear.

Logan whipped his head to the front of the limo, avoiding the sight of your body. Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid how you felt against his. You sat at an angle towards him, knees pressing against his thigh. His body tensed as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Why were you following me, huh?" he asked, finally meeting your eyes. "I've had a long fuckin' day and I need answers." He couldn't believe that a young woman like you would be interested in him.

"Yeah, you're old enough to be my father, maybe older-" you paused to move your left hand onto his thigh. "-but I'm done playing with boys." You shyly turned your head before continuing, "Need a real man."

Logan was done holding back. Now, it all made sense. Your lack of direction in the store, the low cut of your outfit that was way too sexy for a late night grocery run. We're both adults, he reasoned. She wants this.

He gingerly cradled your jaw with his large hand, turning your head towards his. "You sure about this, sweetheart?

You covered his hand with your own, bringing your lips to his in a spontaneous kiss. "I-I need to hear you," he stuttered.

"Shut up and fuck me, . . . " you sighed, pausing to ask for his name.

"Logan . . . call me Logan, doll." His left hand snaked around your waist, bunching the delicate material and exposing your breasts.

As you leaned into his palm, he fished the limo keys out of his pocket and clicked twice, locking the doors. He fondled the underside of your tits before rolling the sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

You were grateful for the tinted windows that shielded your embarrassing moans from the public.

"Already whining for me, hm? So fuckin' needy," he hummed, pushing up your top even further. You crossed your arms to undress, but Logan swatted them away, explaining, "It's cute. Wanna see your tits bounce for me, baby."

He gripped your ass with both hands and effortlessly swung you onto the broad expanse of his lap.

Your back arched as his rough palm cupped your pussy, thumb languidly tracing your sensitive bud through the cotton.

"But this . . . has to go," he drawled, tugging the elastic of your panties before letting it go with a faint snap.

It was too much. You were splayed over the lap of a stranger, hips wantonly rocking yourself over his prominent bulge and mewling as your sensitive clit caught on the rough fabric of his slacks.

He stilled your movements with his hands, lovingly kneading the flesh of your hips. "You okay with this?" he asked, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. "Yeah, Logan . . . more than okay. Need you."

You loved that he was confident enough to take what he wanted but also gracious enough to check in, unlike the boys you were used to fucking around with.

His fingers hooked around the waistband of your skirt and panties, skillfully pushing your legs against your chest as he pulled them off. He decided against slicing them off with his claws, not wanting to hurt you. "Fuck. You're so pretty. My sweet, sweet girl . . ." he cooed. You whined as your aching cunt was finally exposed to Logan's hungry gaze and the chill night air. He groaned as you resumed desecrating his lap with your juices.

Your breath hitched as Logan traced two fingers along your bottom lip. You granted him access, playfully darting your tongue around his digits.

After his fingers were thoroughly soaked, he used your saliva to gently trace your hole, noticing the faint flutter of your walls.

"Need me to fill you up, hm? Poor baby's clenching around nothing. Let me fix that . . ." Logan's palm brushed against your clit as his fingers plunged into you, setting a steady pace.

You were incredibly wet, but he needed to prep you for his thick cock. He drooled, collecting a heavy wad of spit onto his tongue before letting it fall onto your pussy.

"Ah-ah!" You exclaimed, surprised by the contact. You bit your lip, cheeks flushing at the lewd feeling of his spit mixing with your wetness.

He used his other hand to slap repeatedly against your puffy folds, mesmerized by how vulnerable you were being for him.

"Yeah, you like that?" He whispered, curling his fingers as they met your cervix. You covered your mouth, desperately trying to maintain some modesty. Logan withdrew his left hand to pry away your arm and swallow your moans, sloppily slotting his lips into yours.

You gasped into his mouth as you felt your cunt spasm around his fingers, gushing all over his tight slacks.

"Oh, fuck! Logan . . . " you mewled, biting his lower lip while he continued to finger you through your orgasm.

Your head fell into the inviting crook of his neck, nuzzling his graying beard. "Atta girl, come for me," he cooed.

Logan peered down at you, noticing wet droplets dampening his beard. You were silently crying, tears cascading down your puffy cheeks before landing on his face.

At first, he was alarmed. "Hey, hey, shhhh," he purred. "What's the matter, doll?"

His cock twitched when he realized you were smiling against his neck.

"Nothing's wrong, Logan . . . you make me feel so good, that's all."

He planted a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Yeah? Want me to make you feel even better? Fill you up for real this time?"

You nodded dumbly, still basking in the haze of your release.

"Nuh-uh. Words." The simple command made you rut into his lap.

You shuddered while responding. "Wanna feel you inside me. Need your-" Logan bucked up into you. "-cock."

He slid his hands under your thighs, briefly pushing you forward so he could unbuckle his belt. Your small hands slinked toward his waist. "Let me do it," you pleaded, hastily sliding his belt through its loops and tossing it to the floor.

You pulled his cock out of his slacks, leaning down to press sweet little kisses to the head. Your thighs burned with the effort, but it was worth it to feel him momentarily lose control. Logan hissed sharply, "Good girl, fuck-" before guiding his thick cock into your heavenly mouth.

You licked a prominent vein that teased its way above his waistband. The taste of him was utterly intoxicating. You moaned onto his length, choking back tears as he suddenly thrust up into your eager throat.

The delicious weight of his cock on your tongue was short-lived. He cupped your face, forcing your mouth to slide past the tip with an obscene pop.

"Won't last long if you keep doing that, doll. Takes a lot less to get me riled up these days," he explained.

You nodded as you straightened yourself, using your knees to hover above his lap. He teasingly ran the flushed tip of his cock through your folds before sinking into your weeping pussy.

"Oh my god! fuck-" you cried, lowering your hips to embrace his full length. Your hands found stability on Logan's shoulders as you bounced on his cock.

Logan stared in awe at your tits. They were practically spilling out the sides of your cute top, jiggling with each movement of your hips.

As he admired your form, you drunk in the sight of his coarse salt and pepper beard. His wiry glasses barely held onto the slope of his strong nose due to your eager movements. You paid special attention to his crimson-stained shirt, wondering how he was enduring the wounds.

"You're hurt." You stated, pausing to slowly unbutton his dress shirt.

Logan's hands grabbed a handful of your ass and slammed you down onto his lap, forcing you to continue taking his cock.

"Never said you could stop," he huffed. "It'll take time, but I'm healing."

You gasped as your clit hitched on the bunched fabric of his slacks, frantically shrugging off his shirt in the process. A devastating moan ripped from Logan's throat as you peppered kisses on his wounds. The coppery taste of his blood was oddly soothing, reminding you that the man buried in your cunt was real and not just a figment of your lust-fueled imagination.

Logan loved how dazed you looked, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, your pupils dilated and glossy. His cock twitched every time your soft tits brushed against his face. You whined as the steady rhythm of your hips faltered, hinting at your imminent release.

"Lean forward, baby. Let your old man take care of you," he sighed, wrapping his broad arms around your waist. You allowed yourself to slump forward, arching your back and playfully wiggling your ass in the air.

You yelped as he slapped your ass with enough force to feel the sting radiate from his outstretched palm. "Such a fuckin' tease," he growled, filling you up in one thrust. He set a punishing pace that made you sob into his chest. The loud squelches of your release echoed throughout the limo, mirroring your high-pitched wines.

"Oh, my god! . . ." you mewled, savoring the feeling of his cock stretching your walls. Your breath hitched every time his hips met yours, balls slapping against the sensitive skin of your ass.

He fucked up into your cunt, relishing the fact that you'd probably never had a cock as big as his. Logan stared at where you were connected, hypnotized by the subtle drag of your folds along his rugged length.

"Don't know what I did to deserve a pretty girl like you." His teeth tugged on the delicate strap of your top, exposing your breasts. His mouth enveloped the bud, gently sucking and pulling as they hardened.

"Logan . . . can't take it anymore. I'm close." You clenched around him, earning another hard slap on your ass.

"You gonna come for me sweetheart, hm?" He somehow increased his pace, hips drilling into your sensitive cunt. "C'mon, come all over my cock. Such a sweet young thing, so eager to please . . . " he hummed into your ear.

"And just so we're clear, I am definitely older than your father." His filthy words made you arch even higher, stilling your hips mid-air and allowing Logan to fuck you through your release.

The sound of you faintly chanting his name as you came sent him over the edge. "You can take it," he encouraged as your pathetic whines intermingled with his unabashed groans. His hips drove home, bouncing you harshly against his tense thighs and spilling into you with a low growl.

You almost blacked out at the feeling of his cum spurting into your walls, reaching even further when Logan buried his cock to the hilt. You clenched around him, overstimulated and thoroughly fucked.

"That's it, just relax . . . You look so pretty milking my cock," he praised, brushing stray hair away from your face.

You managed to sit upright and shakily moved to lift yourself off his cock, but Logan quickly steadied your hips. He's still hard, you realized, fascinated by his renewed vigor.

He panted, obviously just as spent as you were.

"So, uh, tomorrow, the Italian place on fifth street, 8 PM?"

You narrowed your eyes, incredibly confused at his choice of words after experiencing the best sex you've ever had.

"Our first date," he clarified. He kissed your cheek and you blushed at the contrast between the innocent action and the fact that his hard cock was still buried in your cunt. "After all, I'm a real man, right? And real men plan dates." He plastered on a cocky grin, repeating your earlier statements.

"Okay, old man. It's a date." You smiled, kissing his mouth with passion.

Ah!!! I had so much fun writing this. Old Man Logan, when will it be my turn >:[

General Store

Old Man Logan x fem! reader drabble

Warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, fluff, age gap, reader is 21+, some suggestive actions/comments, pet names (doll, baby). wc: 739

When you run out of your favorite ice cream, you know it's time to make a shopping trip to the closest general store. You smiled, fondly remembering lazy Sundays with Logan. He'd never admit it, but the sweet taste of chocolate ice cream helped ease his nerves; Twilight Zone reruns were no joke.

Logan turned on the radio, switching through static until he heard the baritone crooning of Johnny Cash. Every time the truck hitched over a bump, Logan steadied you with a firm hand on your thigh. At least that's how he justified it inching closer to the hem of your skirt. His cocky smirk made you playfully slap his arm, but you secretly loved the way he made you blush, even after you'd been dating for months.

He pulled into the neglected parking lot and killed the ignition, lovingly staring at your profile as you moved to unbuckle your seat belt. The universe had shown him mercy when you spontaneously came into his life. Your boundless grace and empathy made his house a home. You once gifted him handmade framed embroidery that read, "God bless our smelting plant."

Logan's thoughts were interrupted by the faint click of the passenger door unlocking. "Not on my watch, doll," he exhaled, rushing out of the driver seat and jogging to the passenger door. You reached for his hand, cautiously stepping down from the truck. Logan knew you could open the door yourself, but he always upheld the dying art of chivalry.

"Thank you." You smiled, stabilizing your descent by placing your left hand on his white beater. "Sure thing," Logan responded, knowing you just wanted to feel his broad chest.

A quaint bell rang as you entered the store, alerting the cashier of your presence. "Howdy, welcome in! Milk's half off today." he chimed. Logan didn't miss the way the young man's eyes widened as you sauntered ahead of him to the frozen aisle. Hell, he didn't blame him. You never wore a bra when it was this hot, instead opting for a lightweight tank top. The cool air blasting from the open freezer door made the hard outline of your nipples difficult to ignore.

"You want our usual or this new flavor?" You asked, prompting Logan to ignore the cashier's gaze. He lengthened his stride and stood over you, peering into the freezer. The carton you pointed out had an adorable illustration of a bunny as its mascot.

"Hmm . . ." Logan pondered, leaning into the frigid air to grab the carton. "It's cute, reminds me of you. I say strawberry."

You traced your bottom lip, pretending to be indecisive. "If you say so." A sweet blush crept onto your face, subtle enough to be missed by anyone but Logan.

The cashier's eyes lingered on your tank top as you both returned to the front counter. You were too busy checking out other items in the store to notice.

"Good choice, we just got that flavor last week. Cash or card?" The young man redirected his attention to Logan, who he assumed was paying based on the fact that he was holding the ice cream and already had his wallet out.

"Do people out here really use card?" Logan asked, puzzled by his question. He remembered a time when he'd have to write a check to pay if he didn't have enough cash.

"My dad's the same way," the cashier chuckled, trying to establish some common ground with you. Logan's eyes narrowed at his lame attempt to relate to his girl.

My dad. This prick thought you were his daughter.

He threw more than enough cash onto the counter before muttering, "Keep the change." Logan tried his best to finish the transaction without leaving three scratch marks over the young man's uneven stubble.

You noticed that Logan was brooding as you linked your arm through his, more than usual. The cashier's words had stunned him into an icy silence, clearly bothered by their implication.

Before you crossed the threshold of the door, you pulled the collar of Logan's beater and kissed him hard. He gasped into your mouth, fingers moving to glide through your hair. Your tongue darted along his upper lip, deepening the kiss.

A thin string of spit connected your lips as you slowly pulled away. "Mmm, almost as sweet as this ice cream, baby," You teased, savoring the cashier's shocked expression as you both heard the doorbell ring.

I really appreciate all of the <3 Meet-Cute (and my blog in general) has been receiving lately. Since your comments have been so sweet, I thought I'd write a fluffy drabble for y'all. My asks & DMs are open. Thank you all for the support.

Meet-Cute Ch. 2

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

Summary: Logan is a man of his word. You and Logan have your first date in the only nice restaurant in town, except it doesn't last long because you want him the food hot to go. Meet-Cute Ch. 1 Warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, fluff and smut, age gap, reader is 21+, pet names (doll, baby), oral (fem! receiving), fingering, praise kink, light slapping, logan's claws come out, set after the events of Logan (2017) except he doesn't die, some angst it's all in logan's head dw. wc: 4k

Logan mindlessly traced the glass of water he'd been nursing for the past hour. The circular rim numbed his finger as he theorized all the reasons you might've been late.

He tended to foster seeds of doubt within his mind, an old habit that was built by decades of loss and betrayal. Romance was almost always an empty promise.

Logan checked the clock on the wall without moving his head, not wanting the other patrons to assume he was being stood up. He enjoyed wallowing in his solitude by drinking alone at dingy bars, but that was before he met you. Now, all he could fantasize about was showing you off to every establishment in town, softly guiding you to each bar counter by the small of your back.

The Italian place on fifth street, 8PM, you recited after exiting Logan's limo last night. Before opening the door, you checked your phone. 7:50 PM. You would've arrived twenty minutes earlier, but you didn't want to seem too eager, so you decided to touch up your makeup before heading out.

Logan noticed the restaurant's comforting hum cease when you entered the lobby. He's pretty sure he could hear some poor guy choke on a meatball, stunned at the sight of your little black dress.

You were busy exchanging information with the maître d', nervously darting your eyes around the room to find your date. When he realized you mouthed the word, "Logan," he sprung up from the booth and briskly walked to the lobby.

"Evening, doll," he beamed, extending his arm. A faint blush settled on your cheeks as you looped your hand around his bicep. He stole glances at your outfit as he guided you to the booth, suddenly leaning down to whisper, "You look stunning. I'm glad you came."

Logan gestured towards the seat opposite him, but you motioned for him to scoot further into the booth so you could sit alongside each other.

He raised an eyebrow, confused by the unusual arrangement. You explained, "I want to be next to you, if that's okay. Sitting across from you feels way too formal after last night."

Logan inhaled sharply, suddenly reminded of the intoxicating drag of your skin against his. He replayed the heavenly echo of your debauched whines in his head, silently praying that you'd let him hear them again.

"Yeah, of course," he agreed, sliding to the end of the booth.

You followed, leaving a small gap. The urge to connect your thigh with his was strong, but you tried to maintain decorum for the other patrons. Your eyes briefly met Logan's before surveying the table, noticing that the candle in the centerpiece was comically short.

"How long have you been waiting?" You asked, peering up at Logan's relieved face.

He stroked his beard, contemplating whether to be truthful or lie to save face. "About an hour," he responded. Logan decided that you deserved the truth; he wanted the foundation of your budding relationship to be built on candor. "You weren't late, I arrived way too fuckin' early. Haven't been this nervous for a first date since . . . well, ever."

You pouted your lips and gently placed your right hand on his thigh. He instantly flexed, surprised at the abrupt contact.

"Aw, baby . . . " You doted, slightly leaning to whisper into his ear. "There's nothin' to be nervous about. You already know I like you enough to suck your co-"

Logan swallowed the end of your sentence, his left hand cradling your jaw to angle your lips into his. You gasped into his mouth, earning a playful bite on your lower lip.

"You wanna give me a heart attack, doll? Jesus Christ." He muttered, releasing his grip on you and straightening himself in the booth.

You smirked, removing your hand from his thigh. A waiter appeared, acknowledging your arrival. "Ah, good evening, signorina," he beamed. "Mr. Howlett has been patiently waiting for you. Welcome to Frizzante."

While placing two menus on the table, he started reciting the specials, emphasizing the last item. "Tonight, our chef has prepared a Festa degli Innamorati. Lover's Feast," he translated.

Logan wanted the seat cushions to swallow him whole. Frizzante's sous chef was a personal friend of his; the bastard must've seen his name on the reservation and whipped up something special to embarrass him.

You stifled a laugh at the sight of Logan's dumbfounded expression. "It's served family-style, with two separate plates so you can share. It's a beautiful spaghetti dish blended with the savory roe of sea urchins and fresh margherita tomatoes. I assure you, it's an incredibly rich and unique experience."

"That sounds wonderful," you chimed, appreciating the waiter's suggestion.

Logan couldn't help admiring the sweet smile that spread across your face. He slid the menus towards the waiter before responding, "We'll take the Lover's Feast, thank you." He silently cringed at the feeling of the special name rolling off his tongue, but he found himself willing to curtail his pride if it made you happy.

The steady hum of the restaurant lulled you into a comfortable silence. The waiter soon returned with a glass of water and a warm basket that filled the air with the savory scent of flour and butter.

Logan picked it up, offering you a slice. "Would you like some bread?"

"Yes, please. Thank you." You giggled as you retrieved a slice.

After you sunk your teeth into the aromatic bread, he took a slice for himself. "What's so funny?" He asked, playfully raising his eyebrows.

You chewed slowly, savoring the richness of the dough. "You're being so . . . proper. I'm not used to guys treating dates like . . ."

". . . A date?" Logan finished, perplexed by your response. "Those guys don't know how to treat a woman." He huffed, wondering how anyone could fuck up the privilege of courting you.

Your eyes raked over his clean blazer, following the strong curve of his arm before landing on his wrist.

"You're wearing cufflinks . . . " You murmured, in awe of the lustrous material.

Logan moved his arm closer so you could feel them. "You gotta expect more than the bare minimum, baby." He chuckled.

You slowly swirled the round cufflinks with your middle finger. "So-" You paused, shifting closer so your bare leg finally grazed the cool material of his slacks. "-If you're so traditional, why didn't you pick me up?"

Logan cleared his throat, stunned by your confidence. "I would've, doll, trust me. Then I figured that you might've been uncomfortable if I asked where you lived. Best to meet in a public space," he reasoned.

His concern for your safety was undeniably attractive. You stopped tracing the edge of his cufflinks before whispering, "I fucked you within an hour of meeting you. I would've been comfortable giving you my address."

The fragrant smell of your pasta dish wafted through the aisle, momentarily relieving Logan from having to respond.

"Attached at the hip already?" The waiter quipped, noticing your proximity to Logan. He delicately lowered the platter onto the table, followed by two silverware sets and the most intricate plates you've ever seen.

"Buon appetito." The waiter gestured towards the dish with a grand flourish of his hand and then promptly walked away.

Logan waited for him to be out of earshot before saying, "I want to get to know you, but you're making it extremely fuckin' difficult with that dirty mouth of yours."

He used his utensils to scoop a large portion of pasta onto your plate before serving himself.

You bit your lip, picking up a fork to slowly twirl the fresh noodles. "Alright, what do you wanna know?" You asked, lifting the fork into your mouth.

"What do you do for fun? Besides fucking strangers within an hour of meeting them."

You choked on your food, shooting an accusatory glare towards Logan. "Okay, okay . . . you got me good. Um, I like going to shows. Punk, country, pop . . . I just love to feel the music in my bones."

Logan put his fork down and rested his chin on his palm, invested in your answer. He briefly envisioned your hips swaying to the soulful twang of Willie Nelson. "Live music, huh? I know a club around here that promotes every genre under the sun. We should go some time."

His left hand traced gentle circles on your knee. "This okay?" He asked, briefly pausing his movements. You rested your fork on the plate. "Mhm," you chirped, pleased by his courtesy.

"I also enjoy making art," you continued. Logan leaned closer. The majority of his past was dedicated to destroying things and harming people. He'd always admired those who used their time on earth to create.

"What kind of art?" Logan asked. You were distracted by the warmth of his palm, which was now splayed over the broad expanse of your thigh.

"I, uh- I like drawing, painting, making collages . . . mostly drawing, though. It's peaceful, you know? Making something out of nothing." You chewed the inside of your cheek, flustered by how intently Logan was looking at you.

He was daydreaming about making space for a studio back at the smelting plant, bringing you tea while you worked well into the night. The domesticity that he secretly yearned for manifested itself in your image.

"You're so beautiful, you know that? Could listen to you talk forever."

You smiled and bashfully looked down into your lap. "Thank you . . . " You lingered, focused on how he absentmindedly stroked your thigh with his thumb.

"What about you? What do you do in your free time?" You asked, peering up at him through your eyelashes.

"After work, I usually head to a bar and pop a couple of quarters in the jukebox to hear Cash while I drink."

Your eyes lit up at the mention of your favorite country artist. "Cash? Like, Johnny Cash? I love him."

Logan couldn't believe that you didn't make a snide remark about his "hobby." He elaborated anyway, not wanting to seem lazy in comparison.

"Yeah, exactly. I also like fixin' old motorcycles and gardening. Keeps me in shape, I guess." He didn't miss the way your thigh flexed, reacting to his words.

You loved a man who was handy . . . in more ways than one.

"You wanna get out of here?" You asked, desperate to relieve the palpable tension that settled in the charged space between your bodies. Your senses were overwhelmed again; the heady scent of his cologne mixing nicely with the smokey tendrils emanating from the candle.

Logan smirked. "I thought you'd never ask. My place or yours?"

Although your apartment was only a short walk's distance from the restaurant, you wanted to immerse yourself in a slice of Logan's world.

"I'd love to go home with you, if that's okay." You shyly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He fished out his wallet and haphazardly threw more than enough cash to cover the bill and your waiter's tip. The velvet material of your dress bunched around your thighs, further exaggerating the short hem.

Logan averted his eyes as you slid out of the booth. You turned around and tilted your head, realizing why he wasn't looking at you. "You're such a gentleman," you praised, straightening your dress.

Logan didn't feel like a gentleman when he helped you into the passenger seat of his limo. He almost opened the back door, reminded of your first night together.

Your eyes grew heavy an hour into the drive. You yawned, soothed by the soft turns of the road and the limo's plush headrest.

"Sorry, doll. My place is a bit farther, away from the city." Logan apologized. "Feel free to rest up. I'll wake you when we get there," he continued.

You surrendered to your fatigue and closed your eyes. "Mkay. Thanks, Logan."

He smiled, glancing at the passenger seat a few times to admire how peaceful you looked.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was Logan's callused hands supporting the back of your knees and your spine. You felt pleasantly weightless above the ground, realizing that Logan was carrying you past the threshold of a doorway.

"Mornin," he joked, noticing you scanning your surroundings. It was still late in the evening.

"Didn't want to wake you," he whispered, gently setting you on his bed. The smooth texture of the sheets contrasted with the rough corrugated walls of your environment.

"Where exactly do you live?" You asked, puzzled by the industrial nature of his home.

"A smelting plant north of the border. People leave me alone out here," he chuckled.

Logan exhaled as he sat on the edge of his bed, turning to meet your shocked expression.

"You mean I'm in Mexico right now? Logan!" You exclaimed, lightly slapping his arm.

He caught your wrist, weaving his large fingers through yours. "You're lucky I'm such a gentleman," he teased, reiterating your choice of words a few hours prior. Your hand relaxed into his.

"First, you followed me into my car. Tonight, you fell asleep while I drove to fuckin' Mexico. Now, you're in my bed wearing nothin' but a cute little dress," Logan smirked, letting his hand fall on his knee. His back ached from turning to caress your palm.

You blushed. "I can tell you're a good guy. I wouldn't have gone home with you if I didn't."

Logan doubted your praise. I'll force myself to pretend that's true, he thought.

The comforting chirp of cicadas serenaded you from outside. Linen curtains gently billowed above your head; the cool night air swathing your body like a translucent blanket. Logan suddenly averted his eyes, exposing the rugged plane of his neck. You breathed in notes of fresh cotton and bourbon as his potent cologne fanned out across the room.

"I need you, Logan." You sighed, slowly drifting onto your back and languidly spreading your legs. Your dress prevented you from fully relieving the throbbing sensation in your core, so you settled for tracing the inside of your thigh instead.

You faint sighs cascaded over your arched form and into Logan's ears like a siren's song.

Too many fuckin' layers, he thought, quickly unbuttoning his blazer and dress shirt before tossing them onto the floor.

He groaned when you skimmed the hard outline of his torso, gently tracing a prominent scar that ran across his ribcage. Logan leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and releasing hushed breaths.

He could get used to you tending to his wounds.

Logan strained his back to grip your legs, swinging you around so that your lower half hung over the bed.

"Can I take this off for you, baby?" He whispered, gathering the material of your dress by your hips.

"Mhm . . . " You nodded, hooking your knees over his shoulders for support. His palms firmly slid up your thighs and effortlessly shimmied the dress below your ass, pausing when the hem caught on the underside of your breasts.

He purposefully pressed the material harder against your torso before exposing your tits, forcing them to bounce harshly against your chest.

"You're so pretty," he sighed, cupping your breasts and leaning forward to gently tug on your nipples with his teeth. You bit your lip, knitting your eyebrows together as you admired how content he looked.

Logan's cock twitched in his slacks when your breath hitched in your throat after a particularly hard tug.

"You like when I make your tits sore, hm? Want me to make it all better?" He cooed, blowing lightly on your stiff nipples before enveloping them with his mouth.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head when you grabbed a fistful of his hair.

You crossed your arms, hastily moving your dress over your head. Logan paused, realizing that your shoes were still on. He slowly released your tits as he slinked down your body, his hot breath raising goosebumps along your stomach.

"Fuck," Logan moaned, now eye-level with your cunt. Your cotton underwear was soaked, clinging to the outline of your lips.

It was the simplest pair you owned, but Logan marveled at it like it was the most expensive set in the world.

He pushed closer, resting his chin on the edge of the bed. He arched his back slightly to accommodate the stretch.

"Can I taste you, baby?" He pleaded, staring at your dilated pupils.

"'Course you can, Logan . . . You can do anything to me, I-" He flattened his tongue and dragged it over your underwear, tasting the wetness that escaped the material.

The delicious pressure of his tongue cut off your response. "I trust you," you continued.

You whined when Logan distanced himself from your core to unbuckle your shoes.

"Shhh, let your old man make you more comfortable," he doted, placing a sweet kiss on your heel.

He resumed a kneeling position, sliding his hands under your thighs and bringing your clothed cunt closer to his hungry gaze. The intoxicating musk of your arousal unlocked a primal instinct within Logan.

A primal groan ripped from his throat as his claws unsheathed on either side of your face. His cock bucked into the unforgiving material of his pants.

After realizing what he'd done, Logan quickly withdrew his claws. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, doll, I could've hurt you . . . won't happen again," he apologized profusely.

You propped your elbows on the bed to get a better look at the bloody slits between his knuckles. "Oh my god," you gasped, eyes widening in fascination. "Are you a mutant?"

Logan's eyes slowly met yours, initially afraid to be met with a fearful expression. "Yes, I am. I've always had these claws, but they weren't always this-" Logan flexed his arm, a faint snikt sound filling the air. "-sharp," he continued.

Logan held his breath as you slowly ran a finger along the blunt side of the blade, admiring the way it reflected the moonlight.

"They're beautiful, Logan." You carefully guided his right hand to rest on your thigh. "Can you tear this off?" You asked, lightly snapping the underwear elastic against your hip.

"I don't want to hurt you, doll." Logan's claws hesitantly hovered over your skin.

"I trust you, remember?" You pulled the elastic away from your body, allowing him to lightly twist his wrist and cut through the fabric.

You gasped as your underwear scattered on the bed. Your cunt fluttered around nothing, suddenly exposed to the cool night air and Logan's unwavering gaze.

Your empathy startled him. Those who had gifted him their trust had often suffered, cursing him to an eternity of self-loathing. He felt undeserving of your kindness.

"Wanna make it up to you," he promised, moving your legs onto his shoulders.

The tantalizingly slow drag of his tongue against your folds made your thighs quiver against his head. He chuckled, prying your legs apart with his callused palms.

He gently lapped into your eager hole, moving his head up and down to increase his range of movement.

You mewled when the tip of his nose bumped against your clit.

"Oh, fuck. My girl's rosebud is so sensitive . . . " He groaned, lightly kissing your clit before sucking it into his eager mouth.

His right hand inched up your thigh, teasingly stroking the apex of your leg.

"How many fingers can you take, doll?" He slowly slid his middle finger inside, palm flushed against your sensitive folds. His lips were still stimulating your clit, now adding the delicious drag of his finger.

Your hips raised off the bed, eagerly meeting his thrusts. "Ah!" You whimpered after Logan pulled out before adding a second finger. He spread his digits, satisfying the hollow throb in your core.

"Three . . . I need three," you elaborated, biting your lip to stifle your needy moans.

His fingers slipped out of your cunt with an embarrassingly loud squelch before easing into your pliant mouth.

"Wanna hear you, baby. That's it," he cooed, making you enjoy the taste of your own slick.

Your tongue trailed the crook of his fingers, mimicking the patterns you traced on his cock last night.

You whimpered when Logan used your saliva to guide three fingers into your weeping pussy.

"Holy fuck, Logan . . . Mm," you babbled, eyes glazing over at the overwhelming feeling of his thick fingers stretching your walls.

If you could sit upright, you'd wipe that cocky grin off his face.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me, doll. Takin' me so well," he praised, focused on increasing the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Oh, I know you want my thick cock, baby . . . Is that why you chose three, hm?" Logan taunted, abruptly pausing his movements.

You whine, spreading your legs even farther apart to invite him back in.

"Yes, fuck-" you admitted, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of fingers returning home.

You felt Logan smirk into your clit as he confessed, "You think you can come without my cock? Tonight's all about you, doll."

The growing pressure in your abdomen threatened to burst, spurred on by Logan's filthy words. He enthusiastically lapped at your cunt, collecting the wetness that pooled near the base of his fingers and gliding up your folds before licking your clit.

He lightly slapped your pearl, motivated to usher in your release as you clamped your knees around his head.

"Holy shit, doll . . . your pussy's singing just for me, hm?" He hummed, referencing the vulgar sounds emanating from your folds with every thrust.

He expertly twisted his wrist as his fingers glided through your cunt. The new movement stimulated the sensitive nerves of your walls, earning a guttural moan.

"Oh my god, I'm . . . I'm coming," you whined, throwing your head back against the mattress.

Logan intertwined his left hand with yours, silently permitting you to squeeze it through your orgasm.

Your back arched, overstimulated by Logan's relentless attention to your pussy. You were too busy rocking your hips against his mouth to register him burrowing his cock into the sheets, a ragged growl escaping his lips as he spurted into his slacks.

"It's too- fuck, too much, Logan . . . " You stuttered, pawing at his forehead to distance yourself from his tongue.

You raised yourself on your elbows just in time to witness him savoring the taste of your cum, his tongue darting against the sensitive pads of his fingers and swallowing with a content moan.

"Mhm . . ." He drawled. "Sweeter than sugar, baby."

You covered your eyes and slumped against the mattress. Logan made you feel hopelessly giddy, and you loved it.

"Stop it, Logan . . . " You cringed, aware of the rosy blush that adorned your cheeks.

He scooped your knees with his right hand and supported your back with his left, mirroring the stance he assumed when he first laid you on the bed. You nuzzled your cheek against the soft pillow, thoroughly satisfied and exhausted.

The small twin-sized bed couldn't support the full breadth of his back, so he turned on his side, lovingly bumping his nose against yours.

You lazily stroked his graying beard, noticing that the whiskers closest to his mouth were damp with your arousal.

You blushed. Again.

"I usually don't even let guys kiss me on the first date. You should be grateful," You teased.

Logan lightly kissed your wandering fingers. "Trust me, princess, I am. Thank you.

Princess . . . that was new. You draped your left leg over the strong muscle of his thigh, suddenly needing to be consumed by his warmth.

He just coaxed an explosive orgasm from you using his mouth, and he was thanking you?

Words failed you. You decided to snuggle closer into the inviting expanse of his bare chest. Logan shamelessly gripped the supple flesh of your ass, pulling you flush against his body.

"I think our first date went well, hm?" He cooed into your ear. Your breathing slowed to the point where Logan assumed you had dozed off.

You felt his body still to avoid waking you up. He whispered, "I hope we get to go on a million more."

Your ears perked up at his covert promise of devotion.

I hope so, too, you thought before finally falling asleep.

Thanks for sticking around for Ch. 2 of Meet-Cute!

Their banter was so fun to write. Also if you don't go to shows (I'm talkin' small clubs, not stadiums) or make art shhhh wdym, you're literally reader?! Anyway, I specified those hobbies because everyone can do them, yay! The FBI-level questioning that usually occurs on first dates was shortened to keep this a true reader insert (my reasoning for reader's vague background.) *The jukebox bit is canon, from Wolverine Vol. 1 (Benjamin Percy.)

Tag list: @th3mrskory @fairiebabey @bratscave @elflutter

Logan Howlett x alternative fem! reader // MDNI, reader is 21+, smut

You're always experimenting with fashion, opting for garments and silhouettes that convey strength. The textile collage that you customize each morning acts as a tangible barrier against the intolerant bigots you encounter daily.

This doesn't mean that you reject femininity. Everyone's soul is composed of masculine and feminine energy, two distinct entities that form a harmonious picture when embraced together.

It's a beautiful feeling, revealing the most sensitive parts of yourself to Logan.

Logan skillfully extracts your femininity from you with his callused hands. At home, you envelop yourself in light fabrics; flimsy sundresses and translucent nightgowns, just to feel him playfully slap your ass. He loves it when you lounge around in band tees and hyper-feminine booty shorts. The contrast reminds him of the duality in his soul.

"Love" was never a routine piece of Logan's vocabulary until he met you.

He was always so sentimental with you, craving eye contact as his thick cock gently parted your folds. He enjoyed whispering it in your ear when he was fully sheathed, planting sweet kisses between your furrowed brows. "I love you, bub."

You always returned the favor, often begging him to fill your mouth. Logan respected you as a woman, as a person. The fact that you felt comfortable enough to submit to him in this way made his heart bloom. "You're too good to me," he panted, mesmerized by the erotic sight of you on your knees. "Don't-" you suddenly flattened your tongue, tracing the prominent vein running along the underside of his cock. You giggled when the flushed head bobbed on your nose with the impact. "-don't deserve it," he continued. You grasped the thick flesh of his thighs and relaxed your mouth before swallowing his cock. You sighed as you nuzzled your nose against the coarse hair surrounding the base.

Logan groaned as he memorized the image of you releasing his cock, a thin string of spit connecting the tip and your swollen lips. "Don't be silly, baby. Let me take care of you."

taglist: @pointyxsole

lmk if you wanna be tagged for future drabbles/fics!

Meet-Cute Ch. 3

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

Summary: You and Logan relax during a particularly hot summer day, engaging in "parallel play" together. An innocent hangout quickly gets heated after he overhears a nsfw Twitter video blaring from your phone. Goddamn auto play. *Can be read as a standalone oneshot. Meet-Cute Ch. 1 2 Warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, 99.9% smut, age gap, reader is 21+, oral fixation, praise kink, oral (male! receiving), light d/s, pet names (bub, baby, babe, daddy, good/dirty girl, princess), size kink, slapping (referenced + explicit), cum play. wc: 3.6k

Logan kept his promise. Well, you didn't go on a million more dates, but the time you spent together stretched the meaning of time itself. They started as singular outings; with early nights overlapping into early mornings. It didn't take long until your dates morphed into week-long "hangouts" at his place.

You willingly uprooted your life for Logan after a year of dating, packing your world into cardboard boxes and weaving it into the fabric of his home. The only thing you missed was the in-unit air conditioner that cooled your tiny apartment. It turns out that summers are unbearable when you live in a smelting plant.

The metal walls and poor insulation transform your makeshift studio into a furnace. Oil paint fumes waft upwards from the canvas, aggravating a migraine that slowly travels from the top of your head to your temples. In an attempt to preserve your sanity, you rapidly untie the paint-stained apron and storm out of the studio.

Beads of sweat trickle into your cleavage, gathering at the underwire of your bra. You tear it off somewhere between the kitchen and the living room; you can't be bothered to pick it up from the floor. Maybe Logan will stumble upon it and stash it away, an uncharacteristically pervy habit that he thinks goes unnoticed.

"I'm melting, Logan. Save me!" You slump into the couch, dramatically grazing your forehead with the back of your hand to mimic a damsel in distress. Logan lowers his newspaper to acknowledge your presence. Cigar smoke billows from his mouth; the inky tendrils momentarily fogging his glasses.

"Not much I can do, bub. Fan just died," He explains, tilting his nose towards the archaic floor fan. An annoyed grumble escapes your lips as you move to the end of the couch, relaxing your head against the armrest and stretching out like a starfish. Logan shifts the paper to one hand to lightly caress your ankle.

You stare at the ceiling, mentally conjuring metallic constellations by connecting the bolts and welds. It takes five minutes for you to snap your eyes shut in defeat. Although you normally accept boredom as a challenge—a testament to your imagination, the sweltering heat makes it difficult to think.

Logan quirks his brow, sensing your exhaustion. "You're such a baby. It's barely ninety in here." You shake his palm off your leg and draw your knees toward your stomach, creating a makeshift boundary against his feigned judgment. "Barely ninety? Don't piss me off," You laugh, reaching for your phone on the coffee table.

Parallel play is new to Logan. He tends to isolate himself, preferring to spend his leisure time alone. When you introduced the concept to him, he dismissed you with an eye roll that bordered on sassy instead of annoyed. "You getting this from your Tick-Tock-whatever the fuck?"

"Let's be alone together," You reasoned. He’s enjoyed these moments of domesticity ever since.

Your index finger lingers above the touchscreen, debating which app will distract you from the heat. The comforting feeling of Logan's hand returning to your ankle inspires you to open Twitter. Your body is slowly relaxing and you want your brain to follow suit.

Logan cherishes your laugh as you stumble upon a hilarious tweet. You scroll further, settling on a video that displays a pitch-black screen. Assuming it was an edit, you wait for a transition to reveal a montage from a show you liked, or an incredibly depressing edit of Kendall Roy. Those always seemed to invade your TikTok for-you page around 3 am.

Your jaw drops when it fades into the unmistakable sight of an amateur porn video. It depicts a woman on her knees, presumably filmed by her partner. The man slaps his cock on her tongue before slowly inching the tip into her eager mouth. "That's a good girl, drool on my cock," the faceless man praises.

The video had been relatively silent until that moment.

Nothing could have prepared you for the high-pitched moan that traveled from the girl's throat and out of your phone's speaker. You were ambushed. Logan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, pointedly refusing to react to the noise. "I'm reading the paper, and you're watching porn?"

"I didn't click on it, I scrolled, I—" you threw your phone onto the couch, crossing your arms over your eyes to shield your flustered cheeks. "—Ugh! whatever." Your embarrassment provides Logan ample time to grab your phone as he quickly unlocks it and scrolls back to the source of the moan.

Auto-play resumes, suddenly filling the room with the sound of more slapping. "Please give it to me, Daddy! Promise I'll be good for you," the woman pleads in an exaggerated falsetto. Logan shoves the phone in front of your face, forcing you to acknowledge the video.

"You into this shit?" He asks, invading your mortified posture to push your arms away from your face. His knee slots in between your stretched legs, effectively caging you in. "I asked you a fuckin' question." His gruff tone would have scared you if it wasn’t accompanied by the slight upward curve of his mouth.

Logan's cock throbs as his eyes linger on your gaping mouth. You were reacting appropriately, dropping your jaw in shock. All Logan could think about was how your plush lips formed a perfect "o," similar to the woman on the screen.

"I plead the fifth," You huff, narrowing your eyes and reaching out to pause the video. Logan clicks his tongue while mocking you, shaking his head side-to-side. "It's in your feed. Doesn't that mean you are into this shit?"

Fuck. You regretted explaining social media algorithms to Logan. It was an act of charity, showing an old man how to use the "interwebs," as he first called it. He'd still have a flip phone if you didn't explain why only drug dealers and Y2K-obsessed tweens used them.

You push Logan's knee forward, making him momentarily lose his balance. He falls on top of you, the full weight of his adamantium-plated bones pressing you firmly into the couch. Logan's heart drops in his chest as he sees you shut your eyes in pain. "Oh my god, I-" He uses his elbow to twist away from your chest, landing on the floor with a comically loud thunk.

He groans with the force of the fall and immediately regrets landing on his back. The scarred planes had already been traumatized by decades of recklessness, but his old age further weakened their tenacity.

"I'm sorry, babe. You okay?" He slowly rises to his feet, grimacing when he hears his joints creak under the weight. Logan uses the edge of the coffee table to stand up fully. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," You squeak, unable to meet his worried stare. When he fell on your chest, you could feel his bulge through the thin cotton boxers.

Two can play that game.

You fail to stifle a giggle as Logan waves his hand in a sweeping motion in front of your face. "You sure I didn't hurt you? Seems like you're in shock," He asks, genuinely concerned with your well-being.

"You're hard," You state, fixated on the prominent tent in his boxers. Logan is a cocky motherfucker; he rests his hands on his hips and slightly leans backward, emphasizing the bulge.

"Yeah? So what? I’m always hard when you wear those shorts. Makes me feel like a fuckin’ teenager." He smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of your flustered face. His nostrils subtly flex and you can tell he smells how wet you are for him. It's simultaneously embarrassing and empowering unraveling for Logan—you feel so timid under the heavy weight of his gaze, yet so brazenly sensual.

“Know what I think?” You drawl, shifting from your position on the couch to stand before Logan. His broad frame would be intimidating if he weren’t so gentle with you. Only you. Sunset filters through the lace curtains you installed last summer to soften the hostile industrial space. Soft, indeed. The living room is swathed in an amber glow, and so is Logan’s face. The light tenderly traces each wrinkle and scar—decorations gifted by the tedious passing of time. Your calves burn as you rise on your toes, lips grazing the shell of his ear.

You grasp his strong shoulders to stabilize yourself before whispering, “I think you’re secretly into this, too.” Logan turns his head away from you, closing his eyes to conceal how much your words affect him. He’s confused when he feels you rake your palms against his chest, only opening his eyes when your hand catches on the waistband of his boxers.

Logan’s a man of few words. Your unabashed look of adoration combined with your position on the floor stole any he could use to disagree.

“What’s the matter, Daddy? Cat got your tongue?” You lean forward, tenderly nuzzling your cheek against his leg. 

“Jesus,” Logan mumbles, tentatively reaching down to pet the top of your head. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Don’t call me that.” The gravel of his voice triggers a dull throbbing in your core. It was easy to unravel for him because he never demanded your submission. He earned it by respecting your mind and body, nurturing it like a fragile orchid that could wither if handled without care. 

You strain your neck to peer into his eyes. He tugs on your roots before tenderly tracing your bottom lip—a silent betrayal of his plea. “Why, you don’t like it? I’ll stop if you don’t,” You reason, allowing him to admire your plush lips. A ragged groan escapes him as he watches you suck his callused thumb into your hot mouth before releasing it with an audible pop.

“It’s not that, I just—” His words die in his throat as you pull the hem of his boxers down, tugging the elastic until you can feel his hard cock bob on your face. You gently stroke his length before pressing your cheek against it, smiling against his warmth. “I don’t wanna ruin you any more than I already have,” He chokes. The doubt written on Logan’s face kills you. You’re suddenly on your feet again and Logan’s cock can’t help but twitch at the absence of your hot breath. 

“Stop it. I hate when you say shit like that.” Logan resists the urge to clench his eyes shut. He hates it when you look at him like he’s a puzzle you’re eager to solve. “All you’ve done is give me everything I’ve ever wanted,” You sigh, reaching on your toes to burrow your head into the crook of his neck. 

Logan wallowed in self-deprecation like it was his job. The age gap between you both was a recurring theme of past arguments. He often distanced himself whenever you begged to ride him, gazing sympathetically into his eyes as you felt his thrusts falter. 

You cherished it.

He could be bandaging your knee after a bad fall in the studio and then spanking your ass until it matched the deep purple and red hues mixed on your palette. The duality drove you crazy. Logan knew exactly when to nurture you and when to fulfill your desire to be taken, worn down; he masterfully chipped away at the facade of your resolve until you were pliant in his rough embrace.

“Besides, ‘Daddy’s just a term of endearment. Same as baby, doll . . . my girl.” You whisper, teasingly nipping his earlobe. “I love being your girl.”

Logan’s hesitation breaks at that, planting a chaste kiss on your neck and inhaling the comforting scent of your hair. You smelled like home.

“Can you get on your knees for me, baby?”

The subtle command ignites a tender ache in your bones—you’re suddenly slinking down his form and bracing against the cool concrete. This must be how people felt when the first skyscraper was built. The towering mass of his body is deliciously intimidating; you’re at his feet, worshipping the foundation of an idol that refuses to be honored.

His hips jut forward as you teasingly lick the head of his cock in short, cat-like strokes. You indulge in his flesh, roaming the hard planes of his thighs and caressing the black tendrils around the base. Something in Logan breaks when you pause to gently kiss the tip while peering up at him through your fluttering lashes. 

“Give me your phone,” He commands. You were too embarrassed to admit how much you craved this side of him. Your back strains with your sudden movement to reach behind you, knocking little knick-knacks on the coffee table as you fumble for the phone. 

Logan’s cock twitches as you hurriedly unlock it before presenting it to him like a pup offering its owner a bone. “I, uh—” His voice hitches when you place your hands on your thighs; your arched back pushing the swell of your breasts against his legs. “I need you to open the camera app for me.”

A teasing smirk overpowers your once coy visage. “Sure thing, Daddy.” You strain to reach the phone, quickly swiping to find the cute camera icon. He’s purposefully not bridging the distance. 

He’s making you work for it.

Logan reverses the camera before angling it in front of your face. “Repeat what she said.” His hooded eyes follow your dumbfounded expression, lingering on the inviting expanse of your lips. You stutter as Logan’s thumb traces dizzying patterns on your open mouth, dipping in quickly to collect your spit.

“Pl- please give it to me, Daddy . . . promise I'll be good for you,” You drawl, satisfied now that you could feel Logan in your mouth. Your face is inches away from his hard cock and you can’t help but admire how fucking pretty he is. When he’s worked up like this, his cock resembles an enticing red lollipop, shiny with the glaze of your spit. The line between your internal thoughts and external babbles blurs as you murmur, “Wanna suck you off so badly. Need to taste you.” 

“What was that, bub?” He props up your chin with his finger, helping you focus on his hazel eyes. He shifts the phone into his left hand before firmly grabbing the base of his cock with his right to lightly slap your cheek. “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” He growls, snapping you out of your horny reverie.

Your voice is meek and airy, a familiar sign that you’re falling further into a comfortable haze. There were no labels to describe your relationship, but you both fostered a nurturing pattern of dominance and submission—often smudging the lines whenever necessary. At this moment, all you wanted was to surrender to him.

“I need to suck your cock, Daddy.” You smirk as it bobs almost subconsciously, leaving dribbles of precum on your cheek.

“Good girl. Fuck.” The praise lures a wanton moan out of your throat that sends pleasant vibrations throughout Logan’s body. You slowly inch the tip in, eagerly spreading his precum around the head with your tongue. Heavy, thick, and wet. So unbelievably wet.

Logan’s stifled growls encourage you to grasp the heft of his cock with both hands. You often joked that jerking him off would give you arthritis in your right hand; the stamina needed to twist up and down his length utterly exhausted you.

His eyebrows knit together in pleasure, a silent love letter to your unabashed yearning to soothe him—in mind, body, and spirit. You adore Logan like this, all bark and no bite. 

“So fuckin’ needy, hm?” You peer up at him through your lashes, focusing on the subtle twitch of his nostrils. “Just the tip and you’re already a mess,” He chuckles. Although you’ve enjoyed each other’s company for a few years, a warm blush always manages to reveal how flustered you get whenever Logan smells your arousal. The strained moans that tumble out of his throat ignite a dull throbbing sensation in your core.

Logan opens his eyes when he realizes your hands have left his cock, eager to scold you (lovingly, of course.) He thrusts into your mouth as he’s greeted by the sight of you desperately toying with your clit, pausing here and there to slap against the sensitive bud. 

You can barely think. Pleasure transforms into a tangible gift, tied off with a voluminous red bow. The pressure to open the box is removed—you’re content with admiring the details of its exterior, swirling your fingers on the silky textile and getting lost in the feeling.

“Ah—Logan! I’m gonna— fuck, I—” You stutter, unable to string together words into a sensible arrangement. Logan slowly thrusts deeper into your hot mouth, reuniting your nose with the coarse hair around the base.

He pulls back slightly when you gag around him. Your pussy flutters as you feel his cock harden at the involuntary sound, somehow stretching your mouth even more. “I know, baby,” Logan sighs, gently wiping away your tears. “Shhh . . . you can take it.”

Every time your mouth swallows his entire length, you dart your tongue out to playfully coat his heavy balls with spit. You’re acting like a bitch in heat—as if the thought of living without the taste of Logan’s cock would be futile. Realistically, you knew that the masculine salt of him on your tongue served as a reminder of his tangible presence in your life, a presence that was meaningful, nurturing, and everlasting.

“That’s a good girl. Drool on Daddy’s cock,” Logan praises, adapting the line from the video.

Your release is sudden and impactful. The shaky tone of your cries corresponds with the shakiness of Logan’s hand. His knuckles turn white as he struggles to hold the phone upright.

“Oh my god, oh my god, mmmm!—” You moan, muffled by the delicious drag of Logan’s cock. “Ah—I’m coming, fuck . . .” Your swollen clit pulses as your thighs cave inwards, pushing you even closer to the hilt.

He comes immediately following your orgasm, finding your fucked-out expression unbelievably attractive and haunting. Thick ropes of cum flood your mouth and you can feel his cock twitch when your eyes meet. A rough cacophony of moans and grunts breaks free from Logan’s chest.

You look utterly ruined. Swollen lips still stretching around his girth, tears etched onto the flustered apples of your cheeks. “As beautiful as you look right now, I need to pull out, baby.”

You’re desperately trying to taste more cum from his weeping slit, but Logan manages to push away from you with a dramatic hiss. His jaw falls when he watches you emphasize the act of swallowing his cum.

“My dirty girl,” He drawls, pleased when you stick out your tongue as proof. You want the echo of Logan’s thick cock slapping onto your tongue to be ingrained in your mind. It doesn’t take long for him to explode again. You help him along, breathlessly stroking the plush stiffness of his cock and looking up at him with sinfully soulful eyes.

The first streak lands on your lips. Logan’s head rolls back as he mindlessly ruts forward, painting your entire face with hot cum.

He returns to earth when you press chaste licks to the tip once again. “Holy shit, there’s so much cum, I’m sorry—” Logan apologizes, stunned by the masterpiece he’s created. His release drips down the sloping facade of your cheekbones before landing on your cheeks and lips. You quickly dart out your tongue to taste him.

“Don’t be, Daddy. Can you give me some more?” You plead, batting your eyelashes. Logan pauses the recording and  tosses the phone onto the couch. Before you can process why, you hear a loud thunk on the concrete.

Logan kneels in front of you to match your position on the floor. He reaches out to brush your hair away from your face, studying the white marks adorning your skin.

“You’re so pretty with my cum on your face,” He sighs. Your eyes widen when he reaches down, dragging two thick fingers through your sensitive folds. Then, he swipes the same fingers through his cum before bringing them to his lips and sucking gently.

He closes his eyes, truly indulging in the delicacy of your love. “Mmm. We taste so good together, baby. Wanna try?” You nod earnestly, biting your lip to dampen your whimpers. Logan repeats the process, in awe of the way you lean into his touch.

Logan doesn’t register that you’re falling until he’s sprawled out on the cool concrete floor with your tits cushioned against his chest. He’s quick to check on you, stunned by the sudden movement.

“You okay, princess? What happened?” Worry is framed by the wrinkles between his brows.

“Mhm, Logan. Daddy. We do taste good together,” You confirm, feeling pleasantly overwhelmed yet supported against the solid foundation of his body.

Logan kisses you sweetly, wrapping his broad arms around you to stabilize your torso. “It’s a lot cooler on the floor, baby. Gotta clean you up, I’ll be right back.” You whine as he gently rolls over to lay you on the floor before walking towards the kitchen.

After picking up a nearby towel and wetting it under the faucet, Logan almost slips on something on his way back to the living room.

The familiar heart pattern of the bra makes the corners of his mouth turn upwards; it’s satisfying knowing that you left these out for him rather than randomly forgetting a thong here and a lacey bralette there. You were deliberately feeding into his desires and he loved you for it.

You both played the game of life together, and Logan wouldn’t want it any other way.

I heard it's someone's bday today . . . I hope they never read this but consider Meet Cute Ch. 3 my gift to all of you. Thanks for being so patient, I know it's been a while. FYI I imagine the character whenever I'm writing, not the actor.

Hope everyone has a great weekend.

Tag list: @bratscave @elflutter @fairiebabey @pointyxsole @scorpiosaintt @th3mrskory

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) SFW Alphabet

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: You guys voted so I made sure to deliver😉 I hope you enjoy some fluffy Logan content😊

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Logan may not come off as affectionate and soft to others but he sure as hell makes up for it with you. This man will make sure he covers all five love languages when it comes to his girl because you’re one of the only people who truly gets to see his vulnerable and loving side. Words of affirmation? This man will literally tell you how beautiful, strong and intelligent you are whenever he gets the chance. In his eyes you’re the epitome of elegance and you are no less than an angel. Gift Giving? You are constantly surprised with little trinkets that he comes across that remind him of you. One time he bought matching bracelets for the both of you so that you have a piece of one another wherever you go. He may not splurge like crazy for his partner but he’ll make sure each gift means something special. Acts of service? If anyone else were to ask Logan to make them a cup of coffee he’d scoff and say “make it yourself bub”. But when it comes to you, he’ll have a fresh cup of your favourite coffee waiting for you before you can even think of making one for yourself. As a matter of fact, he’ll go as far as stocking up on your favourite coffee beans before you even notice that your old batch is almost done. This doesn’t just apply to coffee though. Your man will literally stop you in your tracks when he notices that your shoe is untied, crouch down and place your foot on his thigh, and retie the lace before you even get to notice that it was untied in the first place. Yup, he’s just that observant and considerate. Physical touch? This man is all over you! He tends to avoid hugs and other forms of physical affection from other people but with you, he finds every opportunity possible to take you in his arms. He’s not big on extreme PDA (unless he’s jealous) but he’ll make it a point to touch you in one way or another. Whether that’s an arm around your shoulders, holding your hand, rubbing your shoulder or even playing with your hair, Logan uses physical touch as a form of self assurance that you’re safe and present with him. And finally, quality time. Between missions and teaching, Logan can find himself quite occupied majority of the time. But he always finds time to be present for his girl whenever possible. This can include going on late night walks where you both share your deepest thoughts and experiences. It also involves a lot spontaneous bike rides to God knows where. Just know that you’ll always be safe and protected with Logan by your side.

B - Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

Logan is such a considerate person when it comes to those he loves and cares about. As your best friend he’ll make sure you always have a shoulder to cry on and will be a listening ear if you are in need of one. He comes off as a little grumpy and standoffish when you offer to be there for him during his difficult times but he eventually caves and confides in you. He is also extremely protective and will kick ass if someone even thinks of putting you in harms way. And if someone says something mean about you he’ll scare the shit out of them and defend you all the way. Logan doesn’t let people into his life easily so just know that you’re very special to hold the title of his best friend.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

This man is like a teddy bear when it comes to cuddling. He’s so warm and his huge frame engulfs you every time he wraps his arms around you. Nothing relaxes him more than holding you and cradling you into his chest during bedtime or during a movie. He also loves when you hold him. Life isn’t easy as the Wolverine so he cherishes those little moments when he can let his guard down and succumb to your embrace and soothing affirmations. You mean the world to him and cuddling is one of the best ways for him to feel close to you.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Prior to you entering his life, Logan didn’t really allow himself the luxury of imagining a life where he would settle down and start a family. That changed very quickly when you came along and brought him a level of peace and security that he didn’t know was possible for him to experience. He finally has someone to fight for and so he’ll dedicate his entire being to you. If you want to get married he’ll propose to you within a few years. You’ll have a beautiful home in a quiet neighbourhood and will live your days with him loving you in every way possible. If you want children he’ll be the best father ever (although he’ll be a little worried if he’ll be able to do a good job). Regardless, Logan is open to anything as long as you’re with him.

He’s a decent cook but he definitely prefers to do the cleaning instead. It works out perfectly because you both split up your mundane tasks so that there is a natural order to things.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He isn’t the type to break up with you over something petty or superficial. The likely scenario would be that his presence in your life is putting you in danger so he resorts to being upfront and calling things off with you. He doesn’t play games so he uses honesty to present his reasonings. Now will he regret leaving you? Definitely. But it takes time for him to realize that it’s safer for him to be with you instead of without you. So try to reassure him and remind him that his presence matters to you.

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I’ll say it again, Logan will marry you if that’s what you want. He’s pretty indifferent to claiming your relationship on paper because in his mind, you don’t need a paper to prove your commitment and love to one another. You’re the one for him and he’s the one for you, PERIOD! That said, if you’ve mentioned that marriage is something you look forward to then your man will make sure to propose to you like the Queen you are. He’ll probably pop the question in about two years into your relationship and will make the occasion as intimate as possible. You can expect something along the lines of a candlelit pathway to the beach or in a beautiful opening in the forest. He may shed a few tears as he speaks his prepared speech and will slow dance with you in his arms when you say yes🥹 This man will forever try his best to treat you like every woman wants with her soulmate. He loves YOU and you’ll never need to question his love for you.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is so gentle with you! One of the main reasons is because he is well aware of how strong he is and how easily you could get hurt around him. But despite all of that, you’re the one person Logan will be soft with. You’re the love of his life and his support system so you will always be treated with respect and tenderness. He rarely raises his voice at you because he firmly believes that everything can be solved with a civil conversation. If he gets too heated then you both will spend some time away to cool off before reconvening and working through your differences. In his daily life he’s constantly using violence and anger to make his point but with you, he knows that you deserve his patience.

Now that doesn’t mean you guys won’t play fight or that he won’t corner you and attack you with tight hugs and kisses🤭 But know that it’s all fun and games with him. He could never hurt his favourite person.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Oh my days his hugs are so protective and warm! You could never feel unsafe when you’re in his arms and Logan makes it a point to hug you as much as he can. He loves holding you close to him and you love to hear his steady heartbeat when you’re against his chest. He also loves to sneak up behind you and give you hugs from behind when you’re busy doing some work. He’ll slowly sway you from side to side as he nuzzles into your neck and takes in your comforting scent. He would also love it if you run and jump into his arms when he walks through the door after a long day. It makes him feel wanted and it warms his heart to know that you eagerly await his return.

I - I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He knows pretty much immediately that he loves you. He could tell right away that you were going to be a significant addition in his life and he was proven right as he got to know you. He takes a bit of time to tell you that he loves you though because he understands the severity of those words. He doesn’t just go around throwing that term everywhere so he looks for the right opportunity to profess his love and commitment to you.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Oh girl your man is JEALOUS! Well I suppose protective is a more appropriate term but you get the point. He trusts you more than anything and doesn’t doubt your love and loyalty but he’s still a man with a beautiful and desired woman. He knows how lucky anyone would be to have you so he can act a little clingy (an arm around your waist with a scowl on his face when someone stares too long) when you’re out with him. He doesn’t control where you go or what you wear but he’ll leave a few visible marks if you’re going out without him in a scandalous outfit🫣

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Be prepared for a ton of forehead kisses and kisses at the top of your head (especially since he’s most likely towering over you). These kisses send a message that he’s always going to protect you and that he’s happy to have you near him. He also loves to leave wet kisses along your neck so that he could listen to your pulse and take in your scent.

He’s such a softie when you kiss his knuckles because of his complicated relationship with his claws. But when you show such tenderness towards them he has no choice but to melt and try to view his claws in a more positive light.

L - Little ones (How are they around children?)

Logan is a little hesitant around children so he typically allows them to approach him first. His reasoning is that he doesn’t want to scare them or accidentally hurt them. But if they approach him with curiosity or want him to play then he’ll grow a little more comfortable and indulge in their games.

Now if you both end up having children of your own, Logan will be the most protective and tender father. As tough as he is, you can already see him shedding a tear or two when it’s time for mandatory vaccinations for your babies. If you two had a daughter then Logan would teach her everything necessary to protect herself. He would also sing to her and teach her how to do anything hands-on so she will never need to rely on a man. If you two had a son then Logan would teach him everything he knows so he’ll grow up to be a gentleman and an independent man. He’ll also teach his son that it’s okay to be vulnerable around the right people and that he’s supported no matter what he chooses to do in life.

M - Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

If Logan gets up before you do then he’ll spend a few quiet moments admiring you and giving you a few gentle kisses on your forehead. He’ll then get up and get started on breakfast before you wake up. If he has to leave early for work then he’ll leave a little note for you saying that he loves you and to call him when you wake up.

If it’s a free day for the both of you then you can expect to stay cuddling him for a few hours after you’ve both woken up. You guys may engage in quiet conversations as the morning progresses and you’ll cook breakfast together as you decide what to do for the rest of the day.

N - Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It can be a little difficult for Logan to fall asleep but you’ve discovered that having a routine helps him sleep faster. You might get him to follow a simple nightly skincare routine so he washes away the day’s stress and grime. Maybe you’ll read to him for 30 minutes so he falls asleep listening to your voice, or maybe he’ll simply hold you until sleep calls his name. If he wakes up from a nightmare you’ll be there to calm him down. On nights like these you’ll coax him to drink some cold water and you’ll wipe away his sweat. He’ll apologize for imposing on your sleep but you’ll shush him gently and mutter sweet nothings to him as he snuggles into you and slowly falls back asleep.

O - Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s a tough cookie to crack so it definitely takes some time before he tells you everything about his past. But he does reveal small things about himself overtime and eventually he feels ready to speak on his demons. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you (quite the opposite actually). Rather he’s afraid that you’ll leave once you learn how dark his life really is. But he realizes that he prefers to let you in on things so he takes a chance and bares his soul to you. You never once judge him and he loves you more for that.

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

As expected he’s a pretty short-tempered individual. He loses his cool pretty quickly and if anything he’ll find himself frustrated over minor things. But he hardly ever loses his cool towards you. He knows how destructive he can be when he’s angry so he tends to isolate himself for a while until he cools off. He never wants to hurt you with his words so he has a lot of self control around you. Now if anything happens to threaten your safety then he’ll lose his shit and make whoever hurt you pay.

Q - Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

This man remembers the littlest things about you. Whether it’s that random story you told him about an incident that happened in your childhood, or if you prefer pineapples on your pizza rather than mushrooms…he’ll take a mental note of everything. Basically he has a doctorate in everything pertaining to you, so you’ll never feel neglected or taken for granted with him.

R - Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?

His favourite moment is noticing that your eyes light up whenever you see him. You could be having a bad day or even be angry at him but somehow your eyes will still soften when he’s around you. It astonishes him that someone as amazing as you would want him around. But it warms his heart to know that someone looks forward to his presence everyday.

S - Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is very protective of those he loves so you can expect a lot of measures put into place to ensure your safety. He’ll make sure that your windows are bulletproof and that your front door can be double locked. He’s not toxic in his protectiveness but he does know that the world can be a scary place for a woman. He takes his job as your protector very seriously and will never take your safety lightly. But on another note, he’s also very protective of your feelings. If you seem worried he’ll always have a gentle conversation with you so you feel comfortable enough to share your troubles with him. He’ll try to give you the best advice he can and if nothing can be done then he’ll simply hold you so you never feel alone.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Logan isn’t a man of huge gestures but he’ll always do little things to show you he cares. He’ll bring you flowers whenever he sees a bouquet that reminds him of you. He’ll stock up on your favourite coffee or go buy a new face cream because he knows you’re running out. He takes turns cooking and cleaning with you and ensures you never have to do any heavy lifting around the house (with those muscles he better put them to good use🤣).

Of course when it’s a special day like your birthday or anniversary then he’ll clear out his schedule to spend the entire day with you. He’ll pamper you (eg. pay for your nails, give you a massage) and will take you out to a nice restaurant. On any regular day he’ll take you for spontaneous rides on his bike where you’ll ride around for hours on end. Sometimes you’ll go stargazing together or you’ll go for a walk on the beach.

U - Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

You have no issue with him smoking but you draw the line when he lights one up in the house. The smell lingers in the fabric of the sofas and it really messes up the sweet aroma that you create with your candles. You’ve told Logan very early on that you’d prefer if he smokes outside and he respects that. But sometimes he gets stressed and it’s second nature for him to light a cigar in the middle of the living room. You don’t yell at him when you realize what he’s doing but you grab his hand and walk outside to the backyard with him, where you let him finish his cigar and sit with him in silence. When you go back inside Logan gives you an apologetic kiss and lights some more candles plus opens the windows to let out the smell.

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s very particular about how his hair is styled so he takes time taming it every morning (now if it gets messy because you run your fingers through it or play with it then he doesn’t mind at all🤭). He has a few staple pieces in his closet (such as his flannels, white tanks, jeans, boots, leather jacket). His hygiene game is on point but he loves to tease you by forcefully hugging you when he’s sweaty🤣

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Logan has been a lone wolf for most of his life but somehow your presence is all he craves. He’s never been one for cheesy sentiments but he truly does feel like you complete him in more ways than one. You bring a level of adventure, curiosity and peace that he never imagined he could have. You make him feel secure in himself and somehow your relationship is the healthiest bond he’s ever experienced.

X - Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Logan’s favourite holiday to celebrate with you is halloween. He loves how bizarre everything is about this particular holiday and how lively the neighbourhood gets when it hits October. He loves when trick or treaters come around to your house because he likes to scare them with his claws.

He also loves how passionate you are about decorating the house and doing fun halloween activities with him. You get a kick out of making Logan carve pumpkins with his claws to which he laughs and creates silly designs. He also loves when you insist on watching scary movies with him but then hide your face in his chest when you get scared. He feels a sense of pride knowing your immediate response is to turn to him to protect you.

Y - Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He wouldn’t like a partner who is unnecessarily judgemental and inconsiderate.

There’s a lot of things he doesn’t like about other people anyways so it’s just best for others to stay out of his way.

Z - Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He talks in his sleep sometimes (usually because he’s having a strange dream). During the early days of your relationship you’d wake up confused because you’d assume he’s talking to you. But you quickly realized that he has a habit of talking in his sleep. Now if he’s just saying a bunch of random words you’ll fall back asleep but if he’s sounding distressed you’ll gently wake him up before a nightmare starts.

He also needs to be touching you in some way when he sleeps. His face will rest in your neck or chest, and his arms would be wrapped securely around your waist while his legs will intertwine with yours.

Hi! I loved your fic "Good talk". Don't know if you take requests, but I was wondering if you could maybe write some more deadpool and wolverine threes0me. I'm. Begging. You.

Of course, im always ready for an idea- you're my first ask though so yes I am able to write more

she/her. manic pixie dream girl. twee revivalist. geek. theatre kid. may baby. new girl on the block. citizen of district seven. ravenclaw. glader. sugar, spice, everything nice

requests → closed for the moment. getting back into writing, we'll see where it leads me!

what are you waiting for? go check out my masterlist

when he sees me → logan howlett

logan howlett (x-men) x female!reader

notes → in which jean and ororo set you up on a blind date with a wolverine. in honor of deadpool and wolverine throwing me back into my x-men phase full force, i nabbed this from my wattpad. fair warning, it was written in 2021.

i stick with real things, usually facts and figures. when information's in its place i minimize the guessing game. guess what? i don't like guessing games.

you had always been a logical person. opting to plan things out rather than diving right in, so when jean offered to set you up on a blind date, you were hesitant to say yes. you always needed to know when and where things would be going down, and most importantly who would be there with you. this blind date contradicted most, if not all of your morals.

or when i feel things before i know the feelings. how am i supposed to operate when i'm tossed around by fate? like on an unexpected date! with a stranger who might talk too fast. or ask me questions about myself before i've decided that he can ask me questions about myself. he might sit too close! or call the waiter by his first name. or eat oreos but eat the cookie before the cream! but what scares me the most... what scares my the most...

it was clear that you were anxious about this, you were waving your hands around like a maniac, ranting to jean about things that didn't even make sense. "y/n, could you stop moving? i really need to finish up on your hair." jean pleaded, struggling to style your hair. you sighed and slouched in your chair, fiddling your thumbs.

"...what if he hates me?"

what if when he sees me, what if he doesn't like it? what if he runs the other way and i can't hide from it? what happens then? if when he knows me, he's only disappointed? what if i give myself away to only get it given back? i couldn't live with that!

jean turned your chair around so that she could look you in the eyes. "you are a smart and talented girl, y/n. any guy would be lucky to have you. if logan can't see that than he's just stupid." her comment was reassuring. it calmed you down, yes. but you still couldn't stop the nervousness bubbling within you.

"now go get dressed, storm is in the other room picking out an outfit for you." you thanked her and walked out of the bathroom, into your bedroom, where storm was rummaging through a pile of laundry. she smiled and pulled out a blouse for you to wear. she turned towards you and tossed you the shirt.

"the rest is on the bed. i need to go grab one last thing from my room and then you'll be ready to go!" she cheered, excited for you. you had never been much for dating. the few folks you did bring back turned out to be a bunch of douche bags, or had been scared off by some of the other mutants. when jean proposed the idea to the team, they were even more excited than you.

  you pulled off the top you were wearing and threw it in the corner of your room. you took the blouse that ororo gave you and put it on. next you put on the skirt and tucked your shirt into it. storm returned from her room with the item she retrieved. it was a gorgeous necklace with a gold chain and a jewel hanging around it. storm clasped it around your neck. "jean, c'mere!" ororo called for jean to come and see the new and improved you.

  "you look absolutely stunning!" jean praised, her hands on her hips. "let's head on downstairs, we still got some time before we need to get you out the door." jean led the three of you into the kitchen, you starting pacing the room as they sat down at the kitchen island.

  "do i have to do this?" you whined, not at all prepared for what was soon to come.

"there's no point in backing out now! it took me almost an hour to get you ready, you will be going to this date." jean said.                           

"why did i agree to this? i'm perfectly fine here! i'm surrounded with the people i love, i have my dream job... i don't see why i need a new guy in my life. and if life taught me anything, it's that men are garbage." you reasoned, trying to find an excuse not to go.

so i'm just fine inside my shell-shaped mind! this way i get the best view. so that when he sees me, i want him too...

  you were deep in thought, making a list in your head of the pros and cons of going on this date. the truth is, you were actually quite lonely here, and your friends were starting to notice.

   don't you think you're bein' a little, i mean, just a tad-

  ororo started before you cut her off.

  i'm not defensive! i'm simply being cautious. i can't risk reckless dating due to my miscalculating. while a certain suitor stands in line. i've seen in movies, most made for television, you cannot be too careful when it comes to sharing your life. i could end up a miserable wife!

  jean and ororo both gave each other a look. you continued on about how he could be some sort of criminal of psychopath. jean sighed and looked at her watch.

  "y/n, we gotta get going" they got up and ushered you to the car. ororo and jean got in the front seat of ororo's car, and you sat in the back. the entire car ride was filled with you going on and on, with 'what if's' and 'could be's'. there wasn't a single moment where you weren't complaining. jean was starting to think that maybe this wasn't the best idea after all. when you finally arrived at your destination, the three of you got out of the car. they pointed in the direction of the infamous wolverine, pushing you his way. he leaned against his car, lighting a cigar. you walked up to him, a little intimidated.

  "you're logan, yea?" you asked shyly, not really knowing what to do or say.

  "that's me, i'm assuming that makes you y/n." he replied. you nodded awkwardly.

  "shall we head in then?" he asked, looking down at you with raised eyebrows.

"yes, yes we shall." you answered, smiling slightly.

we are young → john allerdyce

john allerdyce (x-men) x female!reader

notes → john knows he can count on you, and he wants you to know that you can count on him too. ahh yes, the infamous pyro. they kept my boy in the void for far too long. time to bring back this wattpad banger written by me in 2021.

give me a second i... i need to get my story straight. my friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the empire state

john had left to go grab his zippo from the car, just in case he needed it. bobby and marie had gone off somewhere doing god knows what. that left you alone, your drink the only thing keeping you company.

my lover, she's waiting for me. just across the bar. my seat's been taken by some sunglasses, asking 'bout a scar

john walked back into the building to find some guy chatting you up. he felt a pang of guilt as he heard the topic at hand. the man was asking about the burn that covered your wrist. you rubbed at it self consciously.

i know i gave it to you months ago, i know you're trying to forget. but between the drinks and subtle things, the holes in my apologies... you know i'm tryin' hard to take it back. so if by the time the bar closes, and you feel like falling down, i'll carry you home

john was never the best boyfriend. he knew that. everyone knew that. but he did try. he loved you more than anything. so no matter how many fucked up things he had done, he would be there for you, and you would be there for him.

"excuse me." john had walked up to the two of you. the man looked up at him, raising his eyebrows at the sight of the boy.

"you need something?" the man asked, glaring at john.

"you're in my seat." john responded flatly.

"and what are you gonna do about it?" he laughed, a smirk gracing his face.

"you don't want to find out." john was just about ready to snap, already fed up with the man. you put your hand on his back to calm him down.

"you should leave. before i make you." the man scoffed and backed away, probably off to find some other girl to flirt with.

"are you okay?" you asked john, a sincere look on your face. you laced your fingers with his, the gesture made him melt. you had always been so good to him. your soft and caring personality paired with his tough demeanor was beyond believable, many people back at the academy were amazed when you announced your relationship with john. they didn't understand how you could put up with the hothead all the time.

"i'm sorry..." he muttered. you frowned.

"john, how many times do i have to tell you that i forgive you? it was in the past, you can forget about it." you reassured him, cupping his cheek. he want quiet after that, not wanting to argue with you. you placed a kiss to his lips.

"i don't deserve you..." john smiled.

"yes, you do. you deserve the world and more, lover boy."

tonight, we are young. so let's set the world on fire, we can burn brighter than the sun. now i know that i'm not all that you got. i guess that i... i just thought maybe we could find a way to fall apart. but our friends are back! so let's raise a tab! 'cause i found someone to carry me home

sooner or later, bobby and marie came back. the four of you left the bar area and found a booth to sit in. bobby and rogue had ordered practically half of the menu. you spent the rest of the time drinking and laughing, having a great time. it was nice to get a break from all the intense training you were doing. after your meal you parted ways, rogue had just moved into her new apartment and bobby would be spending the night there. john and you decided to just drive for a while, wanting to make the most of your alone time together.

the next thirty minutes were pure bliss, the two of you were singing along to the radio and making jokes. you were too drunk to think straight. it was fun until you sobered up, then the sleepiness hit you like a wave. you rested your head on john's shoulder. he glanced down at you as you dozed off. the moon illuminated your features, making your face glow. you looked ethereal. it was then that he knew everything would be alright, as long as you were by his side.

so if by the time the bar closes, and you feel like falling down, i'll carry you home tonight.

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x f!reader

Warning: unprotected p in v sex, mating press, slight breeding kink, pussy drunk Kurt, mild possessiveness, pwp

Word count: ~1.3k

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and the springs of your poor mattress creaked beneath your back each time the joint weight of your bodies sunk down into the rumpled sheets. The salacious mewls of your own voice rang in your ear together with slurring words in a language you did not understand rumbling against your skin in between his near animalistic grunts.

"Kurt— hmph! Oh, oh, right there—"

When you think about taking intimacy with Kurt to the next stage, you had guessed mutually respectful making out, second base at a god-respecting distance, and maybe some biblical approved (post-marital) missionary at its furthest.

Whatever expectation you had in mind, it was not this.

He was not the most muscular mutant on the team by far, but even his lean muscles could keep you trapped under him with his entire weight flushed against yours. Your vision fogged over each time his cock hilted in you, slamming hard and deep at a merciless pace. The stiff tip of his length rubbed against your sensitive walls and his grip on your thigh deepened every time you squeezed around him as if you were still begging for more.

Being with Kurt was a dream come true. He was charming, chivalrous, well-mannered without being dull. Even his touch on your skin when you pulled him into your room and locked the door behind you was gentle, his glowing eyes on you constantly as his hand inched higher and higher into your shirt like he was ready to back away the moment you showed any hint of regret. But you were determined to show him how badly you wanted him after waiting for so long. His back stiffened when the tip of his finger reached the underside of your chest and you arched your back into his touch, gripping him by the wrist and slipping his hand under your bra.

His groping became more certain at your clear indication of eagerness before clothes were scattered on the floor while you stumbled your way to the bed, the soft kisses and kitten licks turning into kiss marks at the side of your neck and canines dragging along your skin. You gasped when he finally entered you, your arousal running down your quivering legs when he bottomed out of you the first time, his head throwing back as a silent sigh left his lips.

You were warm around him and you made the most delectable sounds every time he pushed into you that he couldn't help but crave more, more, more.

Your legs hooking around his waist was not enough, he needed to be closer to you, needed to be deeper in you. Your pussy fluttered around the sudden emptiness when he pulled out of you, the swollen tip of his erection dripping in pre. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips when your handsome lover fisted his cock, spreading the white bead all over your lower lips as he dragged his length along your needy sex.

He took you by surprise when his hand first found the underside of your thigh, pushing it up until your knee could almost touch your chest.

Your hand went to grip the sheets when he buried his entire length in you without warning, his pelvis now snug against the backside of your hips as he kept your leg in place. You tried to dig your nails into the bed for leverage as his pace picked up but he was faster, his free hand shooting up to intertwine with your fingers in a firm grasp before pinning it above your head.

Arching uncontrollably at this new angle he was fucking you in, the shocking waves of pleasure were too much to withhold. Your body grew hotter and hotter by the second and you tried to push yourself away from the mind-numbing sensation. But drunk in the ecstasy of your proximity and his primal instinct kicking in, his tail found your ankle before his mind even knew it when you dug your heel trying to scramble away. You couldn't help but whimper at the dominance of the act, the near possessive coil around your ankle making you feel as if you were in heat, craving to be filled and claimed by the only one who could make you feel so good.

His lips found yours hungrily as he leaned his weight against you, swallowing the sinful moan that ripped from the back of your throat when he hit the spongey spot deep inside you. Both of your legs bent and pressed against your body in the perfect position for him to ram into you, his hand squeezing yours each time he thrust.

"Schatz, mein schatz," wet, hot breath trailed at the side of your exposed neck as you made out the little you could understand from the drunken syllables strung together by his lust, "so beautiful, and all mine—"

His name rolled off your tongue like a mantra, your only hand that he had not pinned down clinging desperately to his shoulder for leverage.

A possessive tick that would have scared him had he been in a clear state of mine overtook his reason and as you stared at him all lust-filled and glossy-eyed, a sudden anger rose at the pit of his stomach as his core tightened. Fresh marks were forming on your skin and it was certain that evidence of his passion would adorn your skin all over from how hard he was holding onto you.

But it did not seem to be enough.

The idea, no matter how faint and impossible it was, that someone else could have what was his and his alone made his blood boil.

"Gonna fill you up, liebling," you could only nod weakly in response with how good he was fucking you, his grunts snarly in your ear and dripping in want, "fill you up nice and full so you could feel it for days."

"Yes, yes please," his words were lost on you but god, would you say yes to anything he said as long as he kept doing what he was doing, "I'm yours, all yours!"

He moaned loudly at the thought, such a pretty noise coming from his lips as his cock ravished your abused hole. Bodies melt into one under the joint heat radiating off your skin, the soft fuzz of his fur sending tingles along your skin each time his body surged against yours.

Toe-curling rushes of euphoria washed over your body as he stilled inside of you, your walls clenching and spasming around him as you rode out your orgasm. Warmth flushed your senses as he came inside of you, hot desire pumping deep inside you like he promised. You returned gladly when he leaned down to kiss you while the last of his seed painted your insides. "I love you, I love you I love you I love you..." his voice cracking at the end of each word in a sudden moment of vulnerability, almost like he was on the verge of tears from the emotion and sensation filled high.

Kurt's body crashed into yours and his grip on you loosened as he opted to hold you against his chest inside. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, his scent soothing you as your bodies stayed connected. Still sensitive, you sighed weakly in contentment when he grew limp inside of you, his release threatening to leak out of you as your walls fluttered.

"I love you."

You heard his loving declaration from the back of his chest, his voice soft as his breathing slowly steadied.

You smiled, closing your eyes so that all you could feel was him, "I love you too."