#Last day! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bedofthistles · 2 years ago

Text

Matches

There, nothing else to be done

“Princess, what are you going to do now?”

This is the part of the story where all the dust settles, when the battles come to an end, and the war is finally won. Supposedly.

One marriage is hardly enough to put to rest all the hundreds of years of hatred. No, there were plenty of little things to fight over.

The official border of where Merryweather property ended and the De Noir line began, whether or not they could reach an agreement on sharing the seaport, starting a reasonable trade between the two families, and, of course, the future of both families.

Sir Benjamin was not going to be given a bad deal on anything, and the Coeur De Noir was still inclined to more dishonourable business practices.

In the month since the curse, and the lead in to the long anticipated wedding, the two Lords of Moonacre were usually found in each other’s studies.

And neither could stop their families from tagging along.

The Coeur De Noir arrived at Moonacre Manor with daughter and son in tow. Likewise, Sir Benjamin dismounted his steed in Castle Black's courtyard the same moment Maria did.

Let’s go by one, shall we?

While Maria Merryweather had become an honourary part of the De Noir family, the Coeur De Noir still had to face the backlash of his Clan.

The Curse had not come to pass and the Valley would remain divided. Many of the De Noirs were disappointed, some ready to arm themselves and go to Moonacre Manor and conquer it for themselves! They had yet to realise that their two families would forever be tied.

Likewise, Sir Benjamin had to go to his tenants and announce his engagement, and it went something like this.

“The people of Silverydew!” From atop his steed, because he knew the minute he was on his two feet, he would buckle and far into the mud. He was nervous, what can he say? “I would like to cordially invite you all to-”

“Ah, we’ve heard this before!” An old crone shouted, waving him off before returning to whatever work she was doing.

“Let me guess, another De Noir?” A man crossed his arms, and the people around him guffawed.

“Well-”

“What did she say her name was this time! Mair?” And they laughed together. “Better double check that this time!”

“Oi, what’re you doing getting married as old as ya are? Let us young boys marry some of the girls!”

“I am not that old!” Sir Benjamin snapped out, despite the many things he could, and should have said. “Would you listen? Before I disinvite you!”

Which, of course, earned some sarcastic ‘oohs!’ from the crowd.

“I am marrying Loveday De Noir, to unite our two families and end the turmoil of the valley!”

They quieted.

“What?”

And then they rioted.

All they knew about the De Noirs was every despicable rumour that had reached their ears. Not that they had ever faced the De Noirs, as none ever ventured into the forest, but they still had their opinions.

They, of course, had all met Loveday years before, either seeing her walk in the streets with their Lord, or in person when she came up to them, striking up a lovely conversation, and buying some thing or another, even if she didn’t truly need it. But, just as any De Noir, she had been a liar, hadn’t she?

“I heard the reason her hair is so floofy is to hide the horns!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Although, I heard the Coeur De Noir was hiding a tail!”

“They can fly! I’ve seen them in the skies! With wings like bats!”

And suddenly, the people of Silverydew got away from themselves, describing monsters instead of people. If the Coeur De Noir had heard he, of course, would have smiled. He was always fond of his own mythology, and a terrifying beast was sure to precede any truth about him in the history books!

Sir Benjamin, despite having just caused a riot, forced Atlas to turn back around and return to the Manor.

Ms. Heliotrope fainted at the sight of Maria on the night of the 5,000th full moon, and immediately began to fuss over her as soon as she came to. She wanted Maria to return to her studies as soon as possible, and make up for the lost time, but Maria had gotten used to her freedom, and more often than not, snuck out before Ms. Heliotrope could find her.

Digweed and Marmaduke were finally able to introduce themselves to her formally, both reminiscing about the months before her birth, when they were deciding which foods the little babe would take to. They, of course, never found out, but they were eager to get to know as much about her as possible.

Wrolf remained in his lion form, and while it took some time for them to figure out the large black lion was indeed Wrolf, and he had not eaten the hound, he was welcomed into the Manor and into the family as if he were that same dog. And, while he kept to his own devices, he could be found by Maria’s side most of the time.

Then of course were the De Noirs. Each had gotten used to the Moon Princess’ presence. The cook had to scold himself for picking strawberries, the maids stopped themselves short of returning to Maria’s room to change the bedding, and the boys mindlessly strolled into the family wing as if to take their shift in watching over her.

Richard himself had been whistling, tossing an apple into the air, a hand in his pocket, as he turned down the hall and ran straight into the Coeur De Noir.

“Ah.” He said. “You.” The Coeur patted himself on the back for not outwardly calling him the annoying one.

“Sir.” Richard said, as he took a bite of his apple.

“Just where are you going?” The Coeur, with that deliciously evil voice of his, leaned down into he was eye level with the boy.

“It’s four, sir, I was-”

The Coeur quirked a brow.

“Oh.”

“Boy, I would suggest running off and fulfilling some other duty, rather than standing in an empty room.”

Richard gulped, before nodding and running off.

Which leads to Robin De Noir.

One might have said he no longer resided at Castle Black, save for crawling back in the kitchen door late at night, or the days when the Merryweather’s were already at the Castle.

When asked, David, Henry, and Richard lied, and told the Coeur Robin was hunting in the forest. Though they all knew no one believed that.

How could they?

No, what Robin was doing was stalking Moonacre Manor.

As he was now.

Robin smirked as he crossed his arms, neck craned as he watched Maria climb further up a large oak tree.

In the early morning light, when mist still clung to the ground, Robin had been a few paces away from the Manor, covered by the trees, as he bemusedly watched Maria tear out of the Manor and, more or less, launched herself into the oak.

Robin chuckled, about to walk up to her, when he saw the old governess pop her head out of the door.

“Maria! Maria!” She called, and even headed in the opposite direction to look for the Moon Princess.

Maria scurried further up the tree and settled onto a high branch, and Robin was sure she was waiting for her governess to give up before she came down.

So, why not make her a little anxious?

“Princess,” He called, his lips flickering into a grin when she startled. “What are you going to do now?”

One hand tethered to the branch, the other pressing to her heart, Maria urged her heart to stop galloping, before she glared down at him. “Shh!”

“Oh, but Maria!” He called loudly. “What are you doing up in that tree!”

“Robin, I swear-” Maria quieted, and Robin turned his head just in time to see the Governess rounding the other side of the Manor.

She smiled at Robin and waved - despite the fact he had kidnapped her pupil, she had grown fond of him over the weeks, and found him to be a polite young man, despite Maria’s arguments that he was anything but - before hiking up her skirt and making her way to him.

“Woohoo! Mr. De Noir! Tell me, I was just looking for Maria, you didn’t happen to see her, did you?”

Robin straightened his spine, and held his hands behind his back, like a proper gentleman. “No, ma’am, I can’t say that I have. I was just on my way to the Manor to speak with her.”

“Ah.” Ms. Heliotrope sighed in defeat, before patting his cheek. “Such a nice young man! Well, if you do see her, please come find me! She has been putting off her studies almost as soon as she returned to me! I can’t have her mind becoming dull, hmm? How would she find a suitable husband then?”

Maria rubbed her forehead in irritation, and Robin did his best not to burst out laughing.

As soon as Ms. Heliotrope turned her back, Robin began to climb into the branches of the tree, so soundlessly, Ms. Heliotrope did not seem to register the action.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Maria whispered to herself, as she too began to climb the branches. But, they became too thin, and her dress and boots were too difficult to climb in. Robin gained on her, and before she could get any farther, he grabbed her ankle.

Maria bit her tongue to stifle her scream, but it gave Robin just enough head way to climb up next to her on the other side of the trunk.

She glared, and he smiled.

“So, what’s this I hear about you skipping lessons?”

“I’m still smarter than you.”

“No doubt about that, but not for long.”

Maria rolled her eyes.

“And how are you to find a husband if you’re-”

“Watch your tongue!” Maria snapped, as she kicked his boot, displacing it from its position on the branch. It was not enough to make him fall, but he did lose a bit of balance.

“Manors!” He scolded, clicking his tongue. “And I thought it was a lady I kidnapped.”

“Well you thought wrong.”

Robin raised his brows.

“You kidnapped a princess.”

“The true Moon Princess. Do you finally believe us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Of course not, but I do rather like being a princess.”

“Your refusal astounds me.” Robin shook his head. “You saw the Castle after we returned! I was dead!”

Maria huffed. “Don’t joke about that. You did not die, you- you were just-”

“Well, maybe I’ll only call you Princess, once you believe it.” He said.

“How can I!” Maria laughed. “You’re all insane.”

“Well, come on then, my lady, unless you want to spend all day in this tree.”

Maria rolled her eyes, but let him help her down, and soon, they were off, running into the forest.

From her spot in the Manor, Loveday smiled.

To her knowledge, Maria had not been a prisoner at Castle Black, as much as she had become their dictator. Even her father acknowledged that he let Maria do things no one else was allowed to do.

She never would have believed that peace between the two families would be achievable, and yet it had come to pass.

More importantly, however, was what Loveday saw in her younger brother.

Soft eyes, easy smiles, and a blooming love.

Her father and betrothed were in the room across the hall, going over some final details about the division of the sea port, but she was thinking well beyond that. After all, what better way to inscribe peace? And perhaps, they could unite the land, and it would not be Merryweather and De Noir, but one family.

Of course, she was getting ahead of herself, uniting Moonacre under one family would surely be an issue for the next generation.

Still, as the door to the Sir Benjamin's study opened and her father stepped out with her betrothed, Loveday bounced out of her seat.

“Good morning, Father, Benjamin.” She grinned, and both men sighed. “I couldn’t help but notice that neither Maira nor Robin are present.”

“Maria is in her lessons, with Ms Heliotrope.” Sir Benjamin said, a slight warning in his tone.

“Oh? Ms. Heliotrope couldn’t find her this morning, and asked to find her should I see Maria.” Loveday bit her lip. “And I believe, Father, that Robin came with you, did he not?”

“Yes, I think he did.” The Coeur, too used to his daughter’s schemes, smiled, and let it pass without argument.

“And, as I was sitting at the window, I could have sworn I just saw them leaving into the woods. Together.” Loveday bit her lip to contain her grin, but it was monstrous at this point.

She had come to love Maria dearly as a daughter. She was kind, funny, she rolled her eyes when she thought no one was looking, and as much as Ms. Heliotrope instilled in her proper etiquette, Loveday could see a headstrong and independent young woman behind the veneer.

She also spent some time getting to know the man her baby brother had become.

Somehow, even without her presence, he had become the soft-hearted man she had been attempting to raise. She may have only been his older sister, but without mother, and she in her early twenties, she had dismissed the idea of a nanny, picked him up from his cradle, and claimed him as her own.

Loveday had been too afraid to return to Castle Black, and so returning to Robin was out of the question.

Loveday watched as Sir Benjamin’s face twitched.

“Alone? Without a chaperone?”

Loveday nodded. “Yes, although you have nothing to worry about!”

“Yes, my son will protect your niece.” The Coeur said.

“Protec- that is hardly my concern! Someone needs to protect my niece from him!”

Loveday rolled her eyes. “Oh, what do you think is going to happen? Maria is very responsible.”

“Respon- what of that boy? Hmm? He’s a De- I mean.”

Sir Benjamin’s eyes flashed between the two De Noirs, and he clamped his mouth shut.

“My son is a gentleman!” The Coeur gave a wolfish grin. “Nothing will happen, you have my word.”

“Yes, although-”

“Although?” Sir Benjamin crossed his arms at his lovely bride to be.

“Although.” The Coeur De Noir nodded his head.

“They are quite the stunning match, do you think not?” Loveday’s face was sure to split with how wide her grinning had become.

Sir Benjamin fumed. “She’s a child! I- I will not even be considering matches until- later! Much later!”

“Sometimes,” The Coeur began. “Betrothal contracts can take some time.”

“Years.” Loveday said,

“Hammering out every little detail. It would be… prudent to get an early start.”

“Such wise words, Father!” Loveday nodded.

Sir Benjamin glared at them both. “You would plan a marriage contract between- those two without even consulting Maria?”

“Sir Benjamin, how modern of you.” The Coeur praised.

“Actually, I think just by looking at her it becomes apparent her mind on the matter.” Loveday said.

“She’s not- she’s-” Sir Benjamin huffed. “No! My Maria- will not be married. Ever! She will stay right here. With me.”

Loveday rolled her eyes, as the Coeur did his best to hold in his laughter.

“You would prevent a happy union? Just because you don’t want her wed?” Loveday raised a single brow at him.

Sir Benjamin pursed his lips. “Yes.”

And the Coeur could not hold back his laughter any longer.

☾

Loveday and Sir Benjamin’s wedding was beautiful.

They had agreed to marry in the amphitheatre, to bring to completion the happy ending, and it seemed the most neutral of territory for both families.

Maria watched it all quite happily. Sir Benjamin had kissed her cheek before meeting his bride at the stair steps, and together they walked to the cliff’s edge.

With De Noir’s on one side, and Merryweahter’s on the other, it did not feel like a battlefield, as she half expected, but like a proper wedding.

The sun began to set behind the trees, and the moon rose out of the sea just as the ceremony began and Maria sighed happily at the romance her Uncle had been blessed with.

“Don’t they seem happy.”

Maria did not jump, not anymore. She was too used to Robin trying to scare her, she had almost adapted a sixth sense whenever he was near.

He appeared like he had for her birthday. Groomed and dressed up, as handsome as it made him, Maria couldn’t help but prefer the worn jerkin.

Maria rose up on her toes to ruffle his hair. Smiling when she disarmed his confident look. Curls fell over his brow, and he looked closer to himself.

“Yes, now, be quiet. It’s rude to talk.” Maria settled back into place, her hands clasped in front of her. She smiled, and kept her eyes forward, even as she felt his eyes burn into her.

There was a rambunctious cheer as Sir Benjamin and Loveday kissed.

Perhaps not an end to the bitterness, but certainly the start of a new chapter.

The party dispersed back to Moonacre Manor to take part in the first celebration.

The Merryweather portion.

As neither Sir Benjamin or the Coeur De Noir could agree on which traditions should take place, Loveday settled the argument. Two parties.

This of course led to the need to show each other up.

Moonacre Manor had been decorated as it never had been before, Sir Benjamin spared no expense on musicians, floral arrangements, and had even hired a whole team for food preparation. Much to Marmaduke’s opposition.

Likewise, the Coeur De Noir outdid himself. Course after course, the finest spirits he could afford, and entertainment that amused them all. Fire Breathers, ribbon dancers, even a jester that wasn’t half bad.

For the wedding, Loveday had worn a white gown, and had not changed out of it for the Merryweather ball. However, the next day she had worn a proper De Noir bridal gown, made from velvet and dyed a brilliant red close to the colour of blood.

Maria herself wore her blue dress to the ball, and, at Loveday’s suggestion, a red dress that belonged to the Moon Princess herself.

Or, in Maria’s mind, a distant ancestor of the De Noirs.

Sir Benjamin and Loveday danced nearly every dance together, their eyes hardly parted, and their hands always touched.

Maria herself danced with any and all who asked, but usually it was Robin.

The first dance she had, she shared with a young merchant’s son from Silverydew. After that, however, she did not dance with any one from the Merryweather side.

David, Henry, and Richard were allowed, of course, but if anyone, with the slightest look of intent, tried to walk up to Maria, Robin appeared before her and took her off to the dancefloor before they got too close.

“You know, this is hardly appropriate!” She said, at the Merryweather ball. “I can’t dance with you all night, it's rude to all the other gentlemen here.”

Robin picked up his head and looked around. “Where? I don’t see any gentlemen. Besides, you just danced with Richard.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Yes, you however are taking up my entire dance card!”

“You don’t have a dance card, therefore, I can disregard that.”

“My metaphorical dance card.” She amended. “Besides Mr. Smith-”

“Was that his name?”

“I haven’t danced with anyone! David, Henry, and Richard do not count.” Maria lifted her chin. “You have been stealing all of my time! And I would like to dance with someone else.”

Robin tightened his grip on her waist and hand, not hard enough to hurt of course, but just enough so she could not slip out of his grasp. “Am I not a good enough dancer?”

“You’re a fine dancer, but I would like to have more than four partners.”

“Really? That’s rather promiscuous of you.”

Maria scoffed, though she did not make any move to step away from him, or even stop dancing. “It is a ball and party, I am allowed.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you attend anymore balls then.”

Maria narrowed her eyes, “Oh? I didn’t realise you got any say in what I do or not do.”

“I am your keeper, Princess.”

“Keeper? And I thought you weren’t calling me princess anymore?”

Robin shrugged. “It suits you.”

Maria smiled, though she was not done with him yet. “Thank you for the dance, but this will be your last.”

“Oh I think not. I’ll keep you right here all night if I must.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“I could tie you up again, it worked well for me before.”

Maria smiled at his insolence, “Would you like to take a walk in the gardens?”

“Of course, Princess.”

And don’t worry about what happened between them in the garden, it was nothing too substantial. Just know that no one saw neither of them return until well after the party had ended.

The next night, Maria did her best to dance with all the young De Noir gentlemen she could. (The term gentlemen is applied very loosely, here. Maria could not help but find him in the crowd after each one had taken up her hand, and sent him a victorious smirk.

She had only succeeded because she kept her eyes on him, her new found Robin-sixth-sense never allowed him to slip out of her sights. But when her partner had been switched with Richard, Maria knew she was in danger.

Richard spun her around and round in circles until the Castle hall became a blur of black and red and white. When he finally stopped, she was so disoriented, she had no way of telling of what was up or down.

As Maria whipped her head around, Robin was no one to be seen.

“Richard, what-?”

“Princess, I have to ask, is it true that you threw the pearls away?” He asked.

Maria rolled her eyes, as she had already told him this and he was clearly distracting her. “Yes, Richard, right into the sea!”

“And when you came out of the sea you were on top of a white horse with a horn on its forehead? A Unicorn, one might say?”

Maria sighed, yes, she had woken up on the back of a horse with a horn on its forehead, but she was unconscious! Anyone could have pulled her out, and tied what was obviously a fake horn to its head. Strange, but that did not mean it was magic.

“And yet, you still don’t believe there was a curse?”

“Richard, if I ever believe in curses, call a doctor, because I will have lost my mind.”

“Sure, Princess.”

Maria rolled her eyes, but her head had stopped feeling so dizzy, so she chanced a look around. Only, Robin was nowhere to be found. Where on earth had he gone?

“May I cut in?”

Richard giggled, and Maria sighed as she was passed off to David.

“David, where is he?” Maria asked, with a single brow raised.

David shrugged, but led her through the steps.

What she had not realised was that Richard had led her to the very edge of the grand hall, and David was carrying her the rest of the way. When he let go of her hand, she was at the door, with Henry waiting on the threshold, his arm extended to her.

She looked back over her shoulder, finding her Uncle and Loveday engrossed in themselves at the head table. She smiled, her absence would not be noticed.

Henry led her out into the darkened hall, but she did not have to guess where they were going, as she and the Coeur had gone down this hall many times before.

Maria thanked Henry when they reached the door, and when she opened it, the greenhouse was lit up with moonlight.

Maria found her way to the stone bench where Robin sat.

“The party is inside.” She said, her smile meeting his own when he turned towards her.

“Yes, but I’m still debating whether or not you should be there.”

“Oh?” Maria crossed her arms. “Because I’m promiscuous?”

“Yes, and I much prefer having you to myself.”

Maria shook her head. “And yet you have not. I’ve danced with at least ten others. Your awful friends not included. I’m rather thinking of going back now, and having some more partners-”

But before she could say another word, Robin leaped up, and took hold of her. His hand around her waist, his other unbound her arm from their crossed position and he led her into a new dance.

Maria jolted, her free hand clasping his shoulder as she turned her eyes to their feet.

“It's a De Noir dance, you won’t know it.” Robin tapped her chin, encouraging her to look up. “Let me lead.”

And she did.

There was no music, and the steps were rather complicated. At one point they separated and returned, Maria spun into his chest and looked sheepishly up into his eyes. He did not laugh, or tease her in any way, but simply smiled.

They stopped, and Maria felt her heart begin to pound in her chest.

“Princess, I-”

But she stopped him, pushed to the tips of her toes, she leaned up and kissed his cheek.

In both their opinions, the De Noirs threw a much better party.

☾

Maria used to be a sheltered London Lady, born and raised for polite society, proper and rather unfit for the countryside. She grew up in the month from her father’s death leading up to the breaking of the curse, not that she would ever believe she had broken any curses. She had found freedom in the forests of Moonacre, a more attentive father in Sir Benjamin, and a rather odd extended family in the De Noirs.

She fell in love with Moonacre Valley, no matter which side of the border she was on, in Castle Black halls, or sleeping in Moonacre Manor’s tower, Maria found a home and a family.

As the years passed, she became a fierce advocate for both sides. She helped the tenants of Silverydew come to terms with the fact that the De Noirs were not devils - devilish as they may be - and the De Noirs found new purpose in guarding the forest rather than frightening everyone away.

She was beloved by both families, and no one could deny that she was Princess over all of Moonacre.

Talk of magic made her roll her eyes, the mention of curses made her scoff, and if anyone asked about pearls, she laughed them off.

Unless, of course, it was Robin.

Though he only broached the topic of pearls once, many years later.

He handed Maria a long, black box, and while he tended to bring her presents like a faithful crow, she was used to them being unwrapped and small.

“What's this?” She smiled fondly.

“Open it, Princess, and find out.”

Maria wasted no time in releasing the bow and pulling off the lid. She gasped, as inside was an exact replica of the pearls she cast into the sea.

“Oh Robin, I completely forgot about the pearls!” Then, she moved her hair over her shoulder, and he clasped them around her neck, kissing her shoulder as he did.

“Only you would completely disregard magic pearls.” He said, and she laughed, before saying there were never magic pearls.

Of course, what no one realised over the course of hundreds of years, was that the Merryweathers and De Noirs were not born enemies. They were made. And, if anyone had taken the time, they would have seen how well matched the De Noirs were for the Merryweathers.

As Family, as friends, and as lovers.

And yes, Sir Benjamin did eventually give in and allowed the marriage contracts to be drawn up between his daugh- niece and the Coeur De Noir’s son. But only after Maria herself had stormed into his office, crossed her arms and glared at him so furiously he was terrified she herself would cast a curse over him. Pearls or not.

#tsom #the secret of moonacre #moonacreweek2023 #last day!#its late!#and it sucks!#but its here!

7 notes · View notes

eupheme · 5 months ago

Text

— sugar, sugar

[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

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

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

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

“You gonna introduce me?”

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

“You think this will wash out?”

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

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

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

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

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

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

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

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

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

And maybe that was friendship, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who do you think got Peter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give him a sideways look, then.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m really glad to hear that.”

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“18.”

Another beat passes, and then a sigh.

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

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

Wade’s fist pumps.

Bullseye, motherfucker.

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

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

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

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

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

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

Ambiance, his ass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Penis cake?

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus Christ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wants to meet you.

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

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

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

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

He hates you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You first.”

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

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

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

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

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

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

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

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

Different. Special.

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

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

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

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

“Right. What flavor was it?”

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

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

He hums then, close to a laugh.

“Sure. You do that.”

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

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

Setting it free.

“I’m a mutant.”

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

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

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

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

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex.

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

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

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

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

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

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

“But doesn’t that hurt?”

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

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

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

His hand flexes in your grip.

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

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

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

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

“No. I don’t think so.”

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

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply.

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

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

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

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly.

“Let me ask you one more thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

Surely he must know?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to get out of here?”

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

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s here that he comes back to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it sweetheart.”

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

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

You did this to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck me, Logan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s almost too much.

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

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

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

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise.

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

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

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

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

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#phew this got away from me - i can't remember the last time I wrote this much in 2 days #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett #james logan howlett x reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x f!reader

17K notes · View notes