#Look at Logan's sleepy face

[imaginedisish]

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This took way longer than expected, and I also sort of got carried away...Hope it still lives up to the requester's expectations (I also saw that the anon asked for fluff...and this ended up being fluff and smut...hope that's okay). Def some errors...I only proofread twice. This one is also inspired by "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan's kindness towards you is strictly friendly. Until it's not just friendly anymore...

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Unprotected PIV, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms (uh, they're outside...), grumpy!Logan, cursing, major angst, comfort, fluff, references to canon typical violence/death/conflicts, f!reader/afab!reader (reader has hair at the nape of her neck but no description of length/texture/color), mutant!reader, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,662 my back hurts

It had been a long day. Every day was a long day. There were the kids to worry about, and then there was the rest of the world. There’s a war coming, you see it everywhere you look, and hear it everywhere you go. The news. The papers. The kids whispering in hushed echoes late at night when you’re walking the halls sleeplessly. You don’t want a war. You want a life. 

The mansion is still bustling—it always is—but it’s slowly winding down. You listen as kids walk up the stairs in waves, heading into their bedrooms for the night. You know you should too, but you like it when the mansion gets quiet. You like knowing that everyone is safe, tucked away. You like it when no one else is around—when you can be alone, the stillness and quiet of a dark and sleeping house cradling you like a mother.  

You find yourself in one of the living rooms, the T.V. still on, playing reruns of a cartoon you recognize from years ago. You smile as laughter erupts from down the hall, the padding of small feet echoing along the floorboards and the sound of much heavier boots following close behind. 

“Hey! Watch it!” A grumpy, familiar voice shouts as kids run past the doorway to the living room, giggling mischievously. “Fucking kids.” You turn towards the sound of Logan’s voice as it bounces off the walls, his frame entering the doorway. 

He has a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other as he strides over to you. 

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, smiling up at him. He’s in his beater and his jeans and that leather jacket that hugs him just the right way. You try not to think about how good he looks as he places the plate and the glass down on the coffee table in front of you. Friends don’t think about friends like that, and that’s all you two are: friends.

“Thought you might want a snack,” he mumbles, pointing to the cookies. “And maybe someone to talk to. You’ve got that look on your face.”

You roll your eyes, staring at him incredulously. “What look?”

“That sleepy, stressed face you make,” he starts, walking around the coffee table and taking the spot on the couch right next to you. “When you’re listening to everyone, making sure they’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for a cookie. Logan sits up and grabs the glass of milk, extending it out to you. “Really, I am,” you promise, but you know he can tell that you’re lying. 

You take the glass from him, and his hand falls to your thigh. The feeling of his skin against yours is intoxicating. He works his jaw and opens his mouth. “What’s going on—”

“Logan?” Storm cuts him off, standing in the doorway. Her gaze is focused on Logan’s hand resting on your thigh. “Did you make tea?”

His eyes flicker between you and Storm. You tilt your head, waiting for his response. “Yes,” he answers, his hand lifting from your thigh as he stands. The spot is suddenly cold. You want to grab his hand and yank him back down. 

“Well, the water is about to boil,” she says, smirking as the kettle begins to whistle. 

Logan mutters a quick shit under his breath as he prowls out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen. Storm giggles as she watches him, shaking her head. She squints at the cookies and milk, and then at you. You nervously place the milk back down on the coffee table.

“Wow,” is all she says, her arms crossing her chest as she leans against the frame of the doorway. You can hear Logan shuffling around the kitchen, closing cabinets and cursing. “All this for you, huh?”

Your jaw drops just a bit at her words, their meaning instantly smacking you in the face. “O-oh, no,” you stutter defensively. “It’s not like that.” 

The conversation quickly ends as Logan walks into the living room with a cup of tea, passing Storm and heading to the couch. He sits down next to you and places the tea in front of you. The tag of the tea bag hangs over the side of the mug, steam wafting off the top.  

“You like tea, right?” He asks as you lean over and grab the warm mug in your hands. The heat feels good, but not as good as when his hand was on your thigh. 

You nod, swallowing those feelings down as you blow into the cup to cool the hot liquid inside. “Thanks, Logan.” You smile, and he smiles back. 

Storm is still in the doorway, a soft laugh stuck in her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.” And before you can protest, she’s gone, her heels clicking down the hardwood floors of the hallway. 

Alone now with Logan, you can’t help but feel nervous. You bring the mug to your lips and finally take a sip, the hot tea dripping down your throat. Was Storm right? No. This is just a friend looking out for a friend. There’s no deeper meaning. So what if Logan brought you cookies and milk? So what if he made tea for you? He’s just being nice, kind, caring. That’s what he always is…to you at least. Maybe only to you—

“Hey, everything okay?” Logan’s voice yanks you back to reality, his palm suddenly warm on your thigh again. You jump at the sensation, accidentally spilling tea on Logan’s hand and all over your thighs. 

“Shit,” you mutter, the liquid stinging just a bit against your bare skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say, placing the cup down on the coffee table. When you look back up, Logan is gone. You can hear scuffling in the kitchen again, drawers opening and slamming closed. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Logan?” Scott’s voice chastises in the distance. 

Logan scoffs, his footsteps echoing against the tile floors. “Fuck off, Summers,” he chides, and you can’t help but laugh at their bickering. 

“Think that’s funny?” Logan teases, suddenly in front of you. He rushes over, kneeling next to you. He has a towel in his hand. “You okay?” He asks. “Anything hurt?”

You shake your head from side to side. “Nope, all good,” you say, grinning, ready for him to pass you the towel. But he doesn’t—he’s cleaning you up himself. 

He rubs the towel gently across your thighs, sopping up all the tea. His touch is soft and careful. You can feel heat rise to your chest at the closeness—the intimacy of it all. You take a deep breath, struggling to calm your heart as he takes his time taking care of you. 

“You sure you’re alright?” He whispers, his eyes suddenly searching yours. The towel hikes up a bit further, the tip brushing against the hem of your shorts. You’re dizzied by his touch, by the comforting way he smiles up at you as he lets the towel fall to the side. Both of his hands are on you now, one on each thigh. His thumbs brush soft shapes into your skin. 

Just friends, you say to yourself. Just friends just friends just—

“Hey gu—oh,” Bobby stutters, standing in the doorway with Peter. “S-sorry to interrupt. We didn’t mean to—”

“What do you two want?” Logan cuts him off, his hands slipping off your thighs as he stands to face the boys. You can hear the gruff annoyance in this voice. “No privacy in this goddamn mansion,” he mutters under his breath so low you almost don’t hear it. 

“Charles told us to come get you, Logan,” Bobby continues nervously. “He has to talk to you about something.” 

Logan groans, irritated as ever. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.” 

Bobby and Peter nod, too nervous to say anything else, and walk away. Logan is still standing in the same spot. You can tell he’s thinking, contemplating something. 

“You better go,” you say, cocking your head towards the hall. “Can’t keep the professor waiting,” you joke. You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches up. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of turning his frown into a smile. 

He turns his body so that he’s completely facing you. His throat bobs as his hands curl into fists at his sides. He looks like he’s holding back, resisting—but what? You can’t quite tell. 

“Logan?” Charles’ voice calls from down the hall. 

“I wanna see that plate clean when I get back,” Logan finally says, pointing to the cookies. 

You let out a laugh as he walks to the doorway. “Yes sir,” you pledge, hand on your heart. His smile widens, his eyes grazing up and down your body, as if committing your form to his memory. What you’re seeing can’t be right; it has to be an illusion. You almost think he doesn’t want to leave you—can’t leave you. His feet are planted on the ground, his arms tucked against his chest. 

He opens his mouth, but the Professor interrupts him before he can get a word in. “Logan!”

Logan steps out of the doorway impatiently, fists still clutched at his side. “Meet me on the lawn in thirty minutes, okay?” he huffs out, walking down the hallway towards Charles’ voice before you can give him an answer. Charles calls him again. “Yeah, yeah, old man. I hear you!” 

Thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes. You can—absolutely cannot—wait thirty minutes.

God. You are so lovesick.

Twenty-five minutes later you’re sitting out on the lawn, far away from the mansion, waiting for Logan, popping the last cookie into your mouth. 

You lay down on your back, the cold, wet grass sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a light breeze in the air, bending the green blades and the leaves of the trees back and forth. You look up at the stars, imagining just how hot they are, just how bright they can shine. 

“You finished the cookies!” Logan’s voice calls from a few feet away. You sit up, watching the shadow of his form make his way over to you. You can see the smile spread across his face as he reaches your slide, crouching down and sitting next to you. 

“Of course I did,” you say. He’s looking down at you, his eyes flickering across your face. You want to look away, but you can’t. It’s like he’s got you stuck there—he always does. He is the one thing you can’t resist. 

Logan’s shoulder bumps against yours, the sudden warmth reminding you just how cold you are. You shiver, crossing your arms and tucking them into your chest. 

You instinctively and involuntarily lean into his touch, searching for warmth. He catches on to what you’re doing before you do. “Cold?” He asks, shuffling a bit in his spot as he lifts his jacket.   

“O-oh no it’s okay you don’t—” But then he’s taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. 

“Better?” He asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulders too, inviting you to lean into him completely.

“Y-yeah,” You stutter, letting your head rest against his chest. You close your eyes, too nervous to keep them open. His jacket smells like him—pine and tobacco and musk. Every breath you take is intoxicating. He’s everywhere, flooding your senses. It’s overwhelming, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than with him. 

He sighs, his breath fanning against your forehead. “So, what’s the matter?” He asks, tugging you in tighter. 

You shake your head, looking up at him. “Nothing,” you say, doing your best to be convincing. “I’m fine.” But you know it’s no use. He can see right through you. It’s like knowing when you’re lying is part of his mutation.

Logan raises his brows. “You’re stressed.” It isn’t a question, it’s a fact. “I could see it before, when we were inside. I can see it when you’re teaching the kids.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm, the feeling almost distracting you from his words. His eyes search yours for the truth, for an answer. “You can talk to me, darlin’. I’m right here.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as those last three words replay in your mind. You swallow your nerves down, searching for the right thing to say. 

“What if we’re in danger?” You stumble over the sentence quickly, shooting it out into the air like it’s something you’ve wanted to get rid of for a long time. “What if the stupid war they’re always talking about comes, and we aren’t ready?” You can feel your heart racing, tears brimming behind your eyes. 

Logan presses a kiss to your forehead, the warm feeling of his lips unexpected but welcome. “Hey,” he coos, his lips still pressed against your skin. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

A tear slides down your cheek. The words come out like vomit, each syllable slipping off your tongue in rapid-fire succession. “But what if it’s not? What if I can’t protect the kids or the team or you for fuck’s sake?” You can’t stop the floodgates—tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You’re speaking between sobs now. “What if they get to us before we can convince them that mutants aren’t something to be wiped out or some disease to be cured? What if—” 

Logan’s arms wrap around your body, tugging you against his chest, pulling you as close as possible. “I’m not gonna let that happen,” he murmurs. “We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to be okay.” 

“H-how do you know?” You choke, your chest heaving against his. “What if—"

“No more what ifs,” he whispers, his hands rubbing against the leather of the jacket—his jacket—on your back. “No one’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Gonna keep you safe, okay?”

“O-okay,” you mutter. “Gonna k-keep you safe, too.” 

Logan hums, the bassy timber of his voice filling your ears, calming your mind. “Don’t worry about me,” he pauses, one hand reaching up to the nape of your neck, rubbing circles into the sensitive skin there. “Just let me worry about you.” 

“Always gonna worry about you,” you say, not backing down. 

You can feel his heart beating against yours. “You don’t have to right now,” he soothes. “Let me take care of you.”

You don’t protest—don’t try to fight him this time. You let him pull you into his lap, let him hold you closer, let him play with the hair at the nape of your neck.  You can feel his lips on the crown of your head. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been before. He feels so good, so firm and solid underneath you, so steadfast and constant. He’s a lifeline, a necessity. A safe place—asylum. 

It has always been him that you need, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise. 

Logan finally breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?” He asks.  You, you think. 

“Me?” What? 

“Did I just…” you trail off. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did,” he husks, his hands lowering down your back, slipping under the jacket and your thin t-shirt to the bare skin underneath. His palms are warm, and his touch is tentative, hesitant. “This okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, and Logan starts to draw patterns and shapes across your back. “Feels nice.” Your voice is soft and shaky as he explores your skin.  

“I’ve been thinking about you too, you know,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. His nails drag across your back. You move your legs to straddle him. “You’re the only thing on my mind, princess.” He presses his forehead to yours as if to show you, to prove to you that he’s telling the truth. You shudder at the words, at the thought. He presses a chaste kiss to your nose, lowering his lips until they’re just centimeters from yours. 

The world feels frozen. You’ve long forgotten you’re outside, the breeze cutting across the grass. You’ve forgotten about the stars twinkling above you. They’re nothing—just balls of heat burning out millions of miles away. You’ve forgotten about all the hatred you’re forced to face, all the variables and lives at stake in this stupid war. Your mind is calm. Everything is suddenly nothing. 

Everything is him. Logan. 

“Logan,” you mumble. It’s a plea, a prayer, a demand. And he knows exactly what you’re asking for as his name hangs in the air between the two of you. 

His lips crash down onto yours, tasting you, savoring you. But it isn’t languid or slow—it’s rushed, frantic, starving, as if your world is ending; it very well could be. He’s pushing you down onto the grass, his muscular arms on either side of your head, caging you in underneath him. 

“Wanted you this whole time,” he pants in between kisses. “Needed you, couldn’t stop thinking about you. Still can’t.” He pushes the jacket open with one of his hands and hitches your shirt up. He lowers himself onto his forearm as his nails drag up your stomach, settling just under your ribs. He spreads his palm, feeling the expanse of your skin, tracing your curves and the dips of your body.  

“F-fuck,” you stutter, arching your back off the grass and into his chest, offering more of yourself to him. 

He bites your lower lip and kisses the pain away. “You gonna let me take you right here?” He growls, his fingers playing with the hem of your bra. “Gonna let me fuck you outside, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whine, lifting your hips against his, feeling his erection straining in his jeans. “Need you, Lo.” 

He curses under his breath as he sits up, his hands pawing at the leather jacket, tearing it from your body and casting it aside. You sit up too, keeping yourself close to him. He’s yanking at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He takes off his beater next, but you don’t get the chance to admire him. Everything is a blur, the throwing of clothes, the way he’s shoving you back down to the grass as his fingers unclasp your bra. The straps fall down your arms, and Logan slips it off the rest of the way. 

He pauses, taking you in, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering himself back down over you, balancing on one forearm as his free hand slides up your stomach, over your ribs, finally settling on your chest. He cups your tits, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over one nipple and then the other. 

“Perfect. You’re so goddamn perfect,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then to your chin. He continues his trail down to your jaw, your collarbone, the center of your chest. 

He takes a detour, his lips latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, his tongue flicking out and soothing the ache away. He kisses across the valley of your chest, bringing his mouth to the other side. He flits his tongue across your other nipple, and continues his trail down your stomach, peppering innocent kisses as he travels lower and lower. 

He stops at the hem of your shorts, looking up at you under hooded eyes. You can see the lust, the desire, the need. “Please,” you whimper. And then he’s hastily unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts, wasting no time as he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and throwing them carelessly into the grass. 

Logan pushes your thighs open. “Keep your legs spread for me, sweetheart.” You can feel his breath on your clit. “Wanna taste you,” he rasps, kissing your core teasingly. “Wanna feel you come on my tongue.” 

And then his tongue is pushing through your folds, lapping at your juices, all the way up to your clit. It’s already too much, your hips lifting off the grass. Logan brings his arm across your hips in response, keeping you down. “Stay,” he grunts, his voice vibrating against your heat. “Don’t know where you think you’re going, princess.” He’s looking up at you now. You can see the desperation and the hunger in his eyes. 

He's starving for you.

He buries his face back into your cunt, swiping his tongue through your folds again before finally settling on your clit. He latches his lips around the bud, sucking harshly. He flicks his tongue out, drawing sweet, sacrilegious circles against your core. 

His free hand climbs up your inner thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. His nails ghost across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He finds his way to your folds, spreading your slick, teasing your entrance. You moan his name as he presses your squirming hips down firmly into the ground. “Doing so good for me,” he breathes against your swollen clit. “Such a sweet fucking pussy.” 

He sinks two fingers deep into your cunt, humming against you, savoring the taste of you. He pumps in and out, deeper every time. “F-fuck Lo,” you cry out, your hands grasping the blades of grass beneath you for purchase. “Feels so good.”

Your walls flutter around him, your muscles already contracting as he works you open. “That’s it, princess,” he huffs, his teeth grazing your clit as he sucks, hard. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers, can feel you getting close.”

“S-so close,” you choke out as he fucks his fingers into you. His pace becomes faster, relentless. He laps at you like he’s a man who has never eaten in his life. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes. “Come on my tongue, darlin’. Know you can do it.” He’s working you through it, swirling his tongue, flicking your clit, licking thick, hard stripes around the bud. His long fingers scissor inside you, rubbing against your walls deliciously. It’s all too much, but it’s just what you need. “Let go for me, pretty girl.”

You feel your walls contract as the fire in your belly spills. You chant his name—Logan. It’s a prayer—no—a promise. It hangs in the air as you come undone underneath him. His fingers pump in and out of you slowly, helping you ride out your orgasm. He carefully pulls out after a few more thrusts, but his face is still buried in your cunt, still lapping at your swollen, overstimulated clit. 

“Lo,” you whimper, looking down at him. He looks up at you, his tongue licking one long stripe before he stops completely. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your clit as he sits up and unbuckles his belt. “Gonna have to taste that pretty pussy again later, yeah?” He throws his belt to the side and unbuttons his jeans. He slides the zipper down, too, and hooks his fingers inside his jeans, shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs in one quick movement. 

You can make out just how big he is in the moonlight. You swallow at the size of him. He lowers down onto you again, resting on his forearm, guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

He captures your lips in a kiss as he nudges against you, teasing you, spreading your folds open for him. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing you again. “Gonna make you feel good.” 

You wrap your arms around his back, bringing his chest flush to yours. “Need you, Logan. Need you inside me.”

“I know,” he whispers, nudging teasingly against you again. “I know.”

And then he’s shoving himself deep inside you, filling you up. You can feel his cock twitching, throbbing, searching for more of you. He pulls all the way out and buries himself back down to the hilt. 

“F-fuck,” you curse, your nails digging into his shoulders, searching for support. “It’s s-so much. So big.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he husks, setting a slow, easy pace, letting you adjust to the size of him. “Taking me so good.” He’s working you open with every pump, his cock rubbing against your walls and stretching you out. 

Logan brings his free hand between your bodies to your still-swollen clit, stroking gently as he plunges deeper into you, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You moan his name, your chest coming flush with his as you arch your back. The contact feels so nice—just what you needed. He’s fucking you out, pounding into you over and over again. 

He's erasing every fear, every bad dream, every horrible vision you’ve ever had. It’s what he does to you. It’s just him—Logan—always has been and always will be. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts. “Letting me fuck you out here.” His hips snap against yours—building his pace, growing faster and deeper as he thrusts into you. You can feel yourself growing closer, crumbling underneath him. You can’t last much longer, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him tightly. 

He moans your name into your mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip, tasting you. “You feel so good, pretty girl,” he groans, rocking into you. “So soft, so tight. Know you’re close.” He flicks your clit, and then circles roughly. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“G-gonna…” You trail off, a bumbling mess, unable to finish your sentence as Logan fucks into you. 

“I know, pretty girl,” He soothes. “I’m right here, I’ve got you. Come for me.” 

You can’t hold back anymore. You can feel yourself letting go, your walls fluttering around him, taking him deeper, holding him tighter. Your orgasm washes over you, like sun stretching across your skin, like a fire spreading in a forest. It’s all too much, too good. 

Logan isn’t far behind. You can feel his cock twitching deep inside you, his pace faltering, his thrusts becoming sloppier. His fingers leave your clit and travel up your body. His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you gently as he pumps into you, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Wanna come inside you, pretty girl,” he moans, pulling you closer, taking you deeper. 

You nod against his forehead. “P-please,” you stutter, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t want you to leave yet.”

“F-fuck,” he growls, your words sending him over the edge as he spills inside you, filling you up. “You’ve idea,” he chokes, “how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” His thrusts slow as he rides out his orgasm, pumping in and out a few more times before pulling out of you. 

He doesn’t break contact—doesn’t rush to get changed. He rolls onto his back and pulls you with him so that your head rests on his chest, your body tucked tightly into his. You can hear his heart beating deep inside—hear his shaky breaths become more stable. The air is no longer cold—the breeze a welcome contrast to the hot summer night air. 

Your legs tangle together. Somewhere in the distance birds sing. A branch creaks. The wind whisks through the grass. You close your eyes and listen. The calm before the storm. This peace can’t last.

“Lo?” You call, breaking the silence. 

He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m right here.”

“I know, but—”

It’s like he can read your mind. “I’m not going anywhere. No one is.” He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer. 

“I’m just scared to lose you, to lose all this.”

Logan presses another kiss to your head. “I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I promise.” 

Nothing’s gonna take you from my side.  

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Babyproofed claws

req: I was thinking with Logan/Wolverine where he ends up having a little girl with the reader and for a while like a few months/a year she doesn’t show any signs of mutation until one day they see little baby claws come out of her hand🥹 like they don’t hurt her like Logan’s does since she was born with it. And reader loves her even more and reassure Logan that she’ll be okay and that nothing will ever change. So mostly fluff but a little smut at the end pile be amazing! Like not necessarily a full smut just like sexual tension about “baby number two” hoping they have reader’s mutation

Req by @supernaturalstilinski

Warnings: fem!reader, it’s said logan wasn’t born with his claws (not canon, swapped it out to better fit request) , I did tweak the end a lil, dad!logan not proofread, fluff mostly

MASTERLIST | KOFI

Throughout your pregnancy, Logan’s mind was consumed with worry for the entire nine months as he wondered if his mutation would affect her. The thought of her experiencing the same pain as he did terrified him, and he was willing to endure it a million times over again to spare her.

Everything went smoothly for a year, her first birthday a few weeks ago. He thought that she was safe, he thought that by some miracle, both of your x-genes hadn’t passed onto her. He should have known he was wrong.

It started off as a normal night, him waking up earlier than anyone else, padding over towards the kitchen in an oversized jacket and sweatpants. He turned on the tv, quietly letting out a grunt as he sat down on couch and sinking into the cushions.

He got a few minutes to himself before he heard little whines coming from the room, making him sigh, knowing his time was up. He stood up, to already see you standing up, groggily mumbling to her as you picked her up. You glanced up at Logan, murmuring a sleepy “goodmorning” to him.

He sits down next to you, gently wrapping an arm around you and kissing the crown of your head. You put your head on his shoulder, both of you staring at your cooing baby in your arms.

As she lifted her hands in front of her face, you noticed a small glimmer of metal in the dim light. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and Logan's eyes widened in surprise. He practically flew up off the bed, switching on the light to make sure he wasn’t going insane.

“What the fuck?” You murmured, quickly pulling her hands away from her face, making her face contort up and she began to cry.

Logan was speechless, watching you examine the small metal claws, glancing up at him again. His eyes lingered on her.

“No, this… what? How? Her x-rays were totally fucking normal.” He finally spoke, watching her curious eyes examine the metal claws, tilting her head to the side. You still held her arm away from her face, just as confused as he was.

He then watched her retract her claws back into her hands, his eyebrow lifting when she let out a giggle instead of a cry.

You sighed in relief when you saw it didn’t hurt her as much as it had Logan. “Lo,” you turned your attention back to the man. He finally turned to you, his expression unreadable.

“Calm down.” You murmured, noticing how his eyes were about to pop out of the socket and his veins were about to bulge out of his skin.

“Calm down? Seriously? You’re gonna tell me to calm down? Our baby-“

"She's fine, okay? Look," you interrupted him and gestured towards her, causing him to look back at her once more. She was peacefully sleeping in your arms, and you carefully placed her back down in her crib. Logan stood with his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This still doesn’t make any fucking sense.” He spoke, sitting on the bed next to you again.

“She developed it late.” You replied, cocking your head to the side, as both of you gazed at the crib. “But for some reason, It didn’t look like it hurt for her.”

“But how? I mean,” he choked out a laugh, “her skeleton is probably covered in fucking metal, and there’s fucking claws retracting in and out of her skin, and god only knows if she has regeneration. That shit is gonna hurt.” He raised his voice at the end, you turning to him with a glare when you saw her stir. “Sorry, but it just doesn’t make fucking sense.”

“I know that, logan.” You snapped, glancing at him. “None of this makes fucking sense. But lo, she’s our baby, we just need to help her. Love her.”

He held his face in his hands, shaking his head to himself. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his large frame, kissing the blade of his tense shoulder.

“Everything will be fine, she will be fine. It’ll all work out, Lo. It always does.” You murmured quietly to him.

He shook his head, mumbling “Fuck,” with a bitter laugh. “I can’t even be a good dad.”

“But you are a good dad. Logan, that girl loves you like crazy. Nothings gonna change that.”

He stared back into the crib, thinking for a moment. “How are we supposed to explain to her that she’s different from everyone else? That she’s not fucking normal and it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for this. And we’ll figure it out when that time comes. She’s a year old. We have time.”

He huffed, knowing you were right. You always were. He swore that being right was your mutation at this point.

She was peacefully asleep, mouth agape and chest falling and rising. A soft smile made its way onto your face, knowing that despite her mutation, you both would love her more than anything, you always will.

A few hours later, he was sitting with her on his lap, her giggling wildly with the small metal claws sticking out her hands, and Logan sticking foam on the top of them, baby proofing them for her, grumbling under his breath every time she kept jumping on his lap.

“There.” He murmured when he finished, watching her eyes go to the foam on her hands, making her eyebrows quirk in the way his usually did. He couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

His smile disappeared when her claws retracted, the foam falling down. He groaned in annoyance, after taking all that time just for them to fall right off, shaking his head.

“Damnit.”

Once she was put back in her crib, both of you laying in bed, you murmur out something that makes him quirk an eyebrow.

“Maybe our second one will have my mutation.” You thought out loud, him looking at you.

“Second one, huh?”

You smirked, and he just smiled back, shaking his head at you.

“That would be nice.” He replied.

[bamjio]

❛ 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘆 ❜— ✿ .. deadpool headcanonns!

BEING WADE WILSONS' ONE AND ONLY ❛ WIFE. ❜ !

⋆˚✿˖° — CLINGY! it's honestly feels suffocating. Does he know personal space? of course. does he oblige to that rule? he'd rather dig logans burial.

— it doesn't matter, wade believes that if you love someone you won't let them go, literally.

— you'd always wake up to him tightly hugging you down, his arms and legs hovering your figure. don't think of letting go, cause he'll just grip more.

— expect him to go over your workplace and hang out there till the end of your shift, he won't budge even if the manager threatened to call the cops.

— goodness, he's just so obsessed with your scent, skin, hair, face, lips, arms, ❛boobies❜, and everything. he'd rather cut his head off than avoid you for a solid 3 days.

⋆˚✿˖° — CHILDISH! is wade a grown man that kills people or a child that wants your attention 24/7? Well, he's a child that kills and wants your attention.

— him being your husband feels like your with a child that won't grow up, he loves making a huge mess, doing anything to impress you, even fighting Logan for fun to show off who's stronger.

— wherever you both go, he'd always wander off somewhere; bothering someone or touching things that aren't supposed to be touched. and you're always panicking looking for wade, usually takes a few hours until he magically finds you, or you find him.

— loves likes seeing you angry, he claims that it's ❛super hot❜ and ❛cute, looks like a cat❜, so he'd bother you every unexpected time, whenever you'd read a book he likes to steal it and read it out loud, whenever you're on the verge of slumber; he'd either yell or picture your sleepy state.

— you're like a mother always scolding wade, and thankfully he obeys you, like a guilty child. yet his manners still come back like his life, you will never get tired of him though, and he knows it.

⋆˚✿˖° — OVERPROTECTIVE! your friends call it lovesick, but him and his 'audience' call it protecting! yeah, maybe he did kill your co worker because he called you crybaby, but thats besides the point.

— special forces, mutant, anti-hero, killer; yadayada, he's everything not a simple man could protect, call him delusional but unexpected things happen, you could get assassinated while eating breakfast, or worse. It's not being too weird, it's being considerate.

— definitely forced Logan to look after you once, not that he minds; Logan admires you. and that turned out to you finding out and scolding wade, being a big baby he is— he definitely didn't talk to you.

— ❛whos that in my bosses office??❜ suprise! it's wade holding a gun to your superiors head while waving at you, well because your boss threatened to fire you.

— in realities and seriousness, he doesn't wanna loose you. loosing someone pains him so much, yet being annoying is the only way he can cope. he lost so much people and he can't afford to loose you too. and him being wanted and a so called 'villain' in every story, he knows one day theyll figure you out.

⋆˚✿˖° — LOYAL! before the day you guys talked, he vowed that if he finds himself attach to another woman romantically, he'd hang himself. he loves you and even if you didn't, no one could ever replace you.

— despite lotta girls getting attracted to him, his eyes will be locked at you. his ears and eyes will forever be yours to catch.

— won't hesitate to slam a girls face into a metal table if they'd ever flirt with you, even with him showing you off. What's only stopping him is you not wanting him to harm anyone, and he's definitely obedient when it comes to you.

— define bare minimum, cause he definitely isn't just the minimum. his profiles in every social contains either your face, or you and him. not only profile, also his header and posts, tagging you whenever he interacts with his 'fans' putting "with — y/n wilson" "my wife — y/n Wilson" "fbm —y/n wilson" and anything that contains you.

— would you really doubt your crazy husband and his whatever audience? Looks can deceive and he's the frame for it, honesty and loyalty is his integrity, he vowed to you and shown his loyalty, and he would never break it.

⋆˚✿˖° ❛iris — tggd❜ , ❛she will be loved — M5❜.

[logansdoll]

37

the fate of the entire world came down to a race against time, the future of all mutants resting on logan's shoulders... but a little detour wouldn't hurt, right?

CW: heavily suggestive, profanity, takes place during the events of Days Future Past, Logan was kind of an ass, reader is kinda that girl, angst if you squint, idk if i timed the timeline right or not so whatevs, etc.

"I'm sorry... what are we doing here, again?" Hank asked, confused, as the three men marched through the hallway of an apartment complex.

"I need to find someone," Logan answered, curtly, eyes scanning over the numbers on each door.

'37... 37... 37...'

Charles let out a dry chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose, "See, that's so funny because last I checked you said we were in a crunch for time."

He stopped in his tracks, Hank pausing mid-walk to turn to him, while Logan came to a standstill just ahead.

"If we have time to take detours, then I'm starting to believe the situation isn't as dire as you described."

Hank swallowed thickly, turning to Logan in expectation of some sort of blowout.

Despite having only known the man for a few of hours, he could tell he had a dangerously short fuse, and wouldn't take kindly to Charles's attitude.

And he'd be right.

Whipping around, Logan stormed over and grabbed the telepath by the collar, brows furrowed as he roughly yanked him closer.

"I just got sent back in the past fifty-fucking-years... And before I do another goddamn thing, there is someone I have to see," he growled, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "Do you got a problem with that, bub?"

Charles paused a moment, eyes scanning over the man before him.

In that instant, he wanted nothing more than to read his mind—to see what was going on in that complicated head of his.

But, alas, he couldn't, so for the sake of everyone, he settled for the safer option.

"Fine with me," he raised his hands in surrender, letting out a sigh as Logan abruptly let him go, turning to go back to his search. "And if I'm not mistaken... thirty-seven would be about five doors down to your right."

Logan glanced back at him, his expression a cross between annoyed and less annoyed.

He'd deal with him later.

But in the meantime, he sped past the next five doors as fast as he could, turning to his right to see what played the setting to some of his best dreams.

A red door, with paint chipping near the hinges, and a crooked 37 and poorly covered claw marks from when he stumbled in drunk one night.

'Just like I left it...'

It wasn't long before the memories came rolling back, reminding him of what he was coming back to.

"You sure you have to go?" you hummed, gathering the sheets to cover your chest and sitting up in the bed, watching as he put on some pants.

Logan nodded, moving to grab his wife-beater, "Yeah, I got some things to take care of... I should be back in a few days."

Turning toward the bed, he smirked at your sleepy form, your bed-head and tired eyes insanely sexy.

"You know what to do while I'm gone, right?"

"Check the peephole before I open, and aim for the nuts," you recited with a yawn.

He smiled, snatching his leather jacket off your chair before striding toward the bed, placing a quick peck on your lips

"I'll be back soon," he promised, swiping a stray stand of hair out your face.

You smiled, looking up at him through your lashes with your beautiful, (e/c) eyes, "I'll be waiting."

When Logan snapped himself out of it, he was still standing in front of the door, the chunk of wood the only thing keeping you two apart.

He was about to knock, but stopped mid-way, hesitant.

What if you'd moved on? Forgotten him in the meantime...

"I'll be waiting," your words echoed in his head.

He sighed, steeling his nerves, before quickly knocking.

There was a moment of silence before the lock clicked, the knob turning and door swinging open to reveal you.

The air caught in Logan's throat as he got a good look at you, his eyes raking up and down your body.

You looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

'That was too quick...'

"You didn't check the peephole," he stated, unable to come up with anything else to say.

Without warning, the sound of a particularly harsh slap echoed throughout the hallway, Charles and Hank flinching at the noise.

"Okay, I deserve that."

"You absolute fucking asshole!" you spat, voice disbelieving of the sight in front of you. "Who the hell do you think you are?!"

Because of your mutation you aged like he did, so you weren't exactly younger looking per se, but you had a youthful vibrance to you.

Your hair was sensually tousled—most likely from just waking up—your skin glowing in the mid-morning sunlight, and your silk robe coming up extra high on your legs, along with hanging extra low on your chest.

You looked sexier than any lingerie model out there.

A fact the other two quite agreed with at the moment.

"Hel-lo," Charles smiled, shamelessly, Hank just silently staring.

"Watch it," Logan threatened, venom dripping from his tone as he shifted to stand in front of you, blocking your body from their view.

"You have no business being here," your brows furrowed as you grabbed the door, attempting to shut it. "Get lost."

"(n/n), I came to see you," Logan grunted, shoving his foot between the door and the frame. "Let me in."

"No!" you scoffed, pushing against the door to try and shut him out. "You don't get to do that! You don't get to leave for eight months and then waltz right back in my life like nothing happened!"

"I got into some shit, alright? Some really bad shit... I couldn't bring that back here."

"Then call! Or... Or write! Fuck! I would've been happy with a goddamn carrier pigeon!"

"I didn't have any of that crap—" "For eight months?!"

With a groan, he rolled his shoulder, giving the door a quick blow and knocking it open, forcing you back and allowing him in.

Quickly, you reached your hand out toward your philodendron, sprouting large vines and using them to grab Logan's wrists, holding him in place.

"(y/n), I don't have a lotta time," he grunted, struggling against their hold, to no avail, "Let me go..."

"For eight months," you started, voice small as you approached him, "I thought you were dead."

Logan halted his thrashing, turning to you with a softened look.

Your expression was now one of hurt rather than rage.

"I know the work you do... and after three months of nothing I started thinking the worst..."

You stopped in front of him, turning to the large array of plants carefully placed around the room, making the apartment look more like a greenhouse than anything.

"I used every damn plant in my range to try and find you... and when I got nothing, I knew that you were gone."

Suddenly, you poked a finger into his chest, eyes glazed with relief as you looked upon his face.

A face you'd never thought you'd see again.

"So no... you do not get to come back after all this time just to see me."

Slowly, your hold on his wrists began to loosen, and he lowered his hands, stepping forward to stand right in your space.

"You're a selfish... narcissistic... cocky son of a bitch, and—"

Logan suddenly snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"And?"

You swallowed thickly, staring up at him with your glassy, doe eyes.

"And I hate you."

He chuckled, leaning down to ghost his lips over your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

"I love you, too, dollface."

And before you could even retort, his lips were on yours, roping you right back into him.

The kiss was hungry... passionate. Like he'd been waiting a lifetime to get his hands on you again.

And he had.

Never in his wildest dreams did Logan ever believe he'd be able to kiss you again... to have you in his arms.

It was worth the detour and more.

Honestly, even if he didn't manage to save the world, he'd die a happy man.

With a gasp, you both broke away from the kiss, your chest heaving as you looked up at the man—who was looking down at you like you'd just hung the sun in the sky.

Slowly, his calloused hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

"(n/n)... I'm gonna tell you some instructions, and you gotta trust me and follow them to the letter,, alright?" Logan started, seriously.

"What? Logan, what are you—?"

"Please," he pleaded. "I know you don't deserve the shit I put you through, but believe me when I tell you that you need to listen to what I have to say..."

Letting out a slow sigh, you agreed, nodding for him to continue.

"In a month, I want you to pack up your things. Your cloths, your plants, all of it, and travel up to Westchester County, New York," he explained, pulling a crumpled card out his jacket pocket. "Go to this address, and you'll find these guys."

He turned to point at Charles and Hank, who were still standing in the doorway, awkwardly.

"Hello," Hank waved, sweetly.

"They have a huge mansion... and you gotta stay there until I can find my way back."

"Find your way back?" you asked, confused, as you took the card from his hand. "Logan, I don't understand... I don't even know who these guys are..."

"You just have to trust me, doll," he assured, his free hand carding through your hair. "Besides, I don't like you bein' in the city by yourself, anyway—" "We really should be going now," Charles chimed, clearing his throat.

Logan let out a sigh, turning back to you and scanning over your face a final time.

God, you were so beautiful.

"Wait for me a little longer?" he asked, nervous.

But to his surprise, you smiled, your hand sliding down to hold his, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles.

"Against my better judgement..." you sighed, lightheartedly. "You better come back to me, Logan."

He cracked a grin, placing a feather-light kiss on your hairline.

"I always do."

bonus !! The three men didn't even make it halfway down the hallway before Logan turned to the two, his hardened expression a complete contrast from the smile he flashed you before he left.

"Listen up," he started, voice dangerously low. "Either of you try to make moves on my girl while I'm gone, I will personally come back and mount your head on a spike. Consequences be damned."

Quickly, Charles used what little power he had to scan over Logan's mind, checking to see if he truly meant what he said.

And he did.

In fact, he was so dead serious about the threat that it actually scared Charles quite a bit.

"Got it?"

Charles and Hank turned to each other, sharing the same knowing look.

"Yup."

"Absolutely."

[wannab-urs]

Morning Ride 

Pairing: Logan Howlett x f!reader

Summary: Logan wakes you up the morning after your motorcycle excursion OR Logan fucks you soft and sweet because you’re still sore.

Warnings: smut! Somnophilia, morning sex, soft and sweet this time, mostly, pet names, no use of y/n, mostly Logan POV so there’s the barest hint of angst related to him not aging and tragically losing everyone he loves, part 2 of Handlebars but can be read standalone, Logan can pick you up because he has mutant strength <3 WC: 1.1k

A/N: I couldn’t stop thinking about the morning after you get railed on the motorcycle and the contrast of how Logan would treat you. So here’s that. Thanks to @pedgito and @pr0ximamidnight for the read throughs <3

Logan Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Logan wakes to early morning sunlight streaming through your gauzy curtains and you wrapped around him like a koala. He looks down at your peaceful face, nestled comfortably against his chest. He wants nothing more than to make you happy, all the time, in whatever way he can. You’re precious to him. He’s lost everyone he’s ever loved, knows he will lose you too. He’ll savor this while he can, make you feel good while he can. 

He carefully extricates himself from your grip, settling himself between your thighs. You’re still bare after last night, your shirt lost somewhere over the edge of the bed. 

Your pussy is still a little swollen, probably sore after he made you come so many times. He gently licks a stripe through your center and you whimper in your sleep. You unconsciously try to close your legs, but he’s got them spread open on his broad shoulders. He licks you again, adding a little more pressure to your clit. Your hands search for him, one burying itself in his hair and the other grasping at his arm. He buries his tongue inside you, licking up your slick, before flattening his tongue against your slit.

You wake up with a sleepy little moan, the sound going straight to his dick. 

“Logan?”

He presses a kiss to your mound before answering. “Yeah, baby?”

“Please don’t stop.” Your voice is airy and desperate. 

He looks up at you, all sleep mussed hair and bleary eyes and absolute perfection. “Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.” 

Logan licks you in earnest now, drawing circles on your clit with his tongue. He pushes one finger into your entrance and you whine. He pulls back, looking up at you with a crease in his brow.

“Still sore. But don’t stop… please,” you gasp. He’ll stop if he thinks he’s hurting you, and you cannot have that. 

He presses his finger the rest of the way inside you, curling it upward into your sweet spot and massaging you there. His tongue on your clit is relentless and you feel your orgasm bubbling up. You bury both hands in his hair and grind your hips against his face. Logan loves how lost you get in him, giving yourself entirely over to him so that he can make you feel good. He adds another finger, stretching your walls around his thick digits. 

You’re shuddering against him almost instantly, walls clenching around his finger. Your soft moans spur him on and he licks you through your high, until you’re pushing him away, oversensitive. He sits up on his knees and looks down at you, fucked out and smiling blissfully. 

“Come here,” you whine. 

And he’s powerless to resist. He crawls up your body, lips dragging from mound to navel to each of your breasts. He presses another kiss to your throat before finally landing at your lips. You kiss him deeply, tongues brushing against each other. The heady taste of your own arousal on his tongue makes you whine into his mouth. 

He notches the head of his cock at your entrance. You squirm beneath him, trying to take him in deeper. 

“Careful, baby. You’re still sore,” he mutters against your lips.

“Not that sore. Fuck me, Logan.”

Again, powerless to resist anything you ask for, he pushes in until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. Your fingernails drag down his back, leaving bright red trails that heal almost immediately. He drops his forehead to yours, your breath comingling with his in the scant space between your lips. You both savor the feeling of him inside you, two halves of a whole forming into one, your bodies completely intertwined. 

He pulls out slowly, only a few inches before he pushes back in, like he can’t stand to leave the heat of your body for long. He sets a slow, gentle rhythm, grinding his wiry pubic hair against your clit with every thrust. Your hands find the back of his head, wrapping his hair in your fingers and tugging him into you. 

He kisses you again, softly on the lips, your nose, your forehead. Your eyes, when they’re open, look dazed, still heavy from sleep and made heavier by the slow drag of his cock in and out of your pussy. His own eyes nearly roll back in his head from how good you feel, but he determinedly keeps them trained on your face. He loves to watch you fall apart. 

He sits back and pushes one of your legs up onto his shoulder before leaning forward again, deepening his thrusts so that he hits a spot inside you no one else ever has. Your hands tighten in his hair and you tug him back down to kiss you again. He increases his pace a little, still not enough to make you come, but enough to get you whimpering into his mouth. 

“Please, Logan. Please.”

“Please what, princess?”

“Lemme come. Wanna come for you.”

What kind of man would deny you that pleasure? He certainly can’t. He sits up on his knees and pulls your other leg onto his shoulder before leaning over you.

“Gonna let me fill you up again, baby?” He starts slow and deep, relentlessly pounds into you, hitting that spot with every thrust and making you see stars. 

“Yes, Logan! Please!” 

He feels you shatter around him, your pussy squeezing him so tightly. He thrusts into you one two three more times before spilling inside you, filling you so full his spend leaks out around his cock and down between your thighs. He stays buried inside as he lets your legs slide off his shoulders. He presses kisses to any skin he can get his mouth on until you pull him back up to your lips. 

“Good morning,” you giggle against his lips, a smile forming on your own. 

“Good morning, baby.” He smirks at you and drops a kiss to your forehead. 

You bask in the afterglow for a little while before the mess between your thighs grows sticky and uncomfortable. 

“I need a shower…”

Logan slowly pulls out of you with a deep groan and stands up. He lifts you out of the bed and into his impossibly strong arms, carrying you to the bathroom. He sets you down on the counter and gets the water running.

You hop down and follow him into the shower, pressing your naked body against his. He gently runs a washcloth over every part of your body, lovingly, reverently even. You do the same for him, returning a softness he isn’t used to receiving. A softness he only gives to you and only gets from you. 

After the shower, you end up back in bed, not willing to separate from him just yet. He cradles you against his chest, holding you close while he can. 

“You made a mess on my bike last night,” he mumbles into your ear. 

“I’ll clean it up later, Logan. Promise.” You nuzzle your face into his body and settle in for a few more hours of sleep.

[dilf-c0nn0isseur]

I wanna write some fluff content with Logan so bad, so here you go.

SFW!

lazy Sunday - logan howlett x fem!reader

context: you wake up to a good morning treat from logan

...

You shielded your eyes from the light that was threatening to peak through the blinds of your bedroom. By habit, you rolled over to be face to face with Logan, but were met with empty sheets, the spot cold. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes.

"Huh," you muttered.

It took you a second to notice the little note left on your night stand, a message scribbled in Logan's handwriting.

be back soon doll. stay here.

With a shrug, you laid back down and dozed off.

About a half hour later, you were woken up by the bed sinking under Logan's weight beside you. His fingers brushed the hair out of your eyes as you blinked them open to focus on him. "Morning Bub," he said quietly. A smile was instantly plastered across your face. "Good morning Logan."

The sleepy look on your face, your smile, made his heart flutter. Only you could get him soft like this.

"Where'd you go?"

"Got you something."

You sat up to see what he was holding and he brought out a cup of coffee from your favorite cafe from behind his back. "Oh Logan, you're the sweetest," you said while leaning against him and pecking his face with kisses.

"Thought we could have a lazy Sunday in bed, and knew there was no better way to start other than your favorite coffee."

You eagerly took the coffee from him and took a sip. You let out a long 'mhmm' of satisfaction. "Wow old man, you really do have a heart." Your playful banter earned a chuckle from him.

"Yeah, yeah."

You planted another kiss, this time on his lips. He leaned back against the pillows of the bed you shared and pulled you into him. His strong, warm embrace was almost enough to put you back to sleep.

Despite the cold exterior people were used to from him, it was little moments like these that reminded you why you loved him so.

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.3

Listen here folks, I remember a lot from the movie however most of those memories are Hugh Jackman's abs

I hope this is alright, I added a few bits and obviously there will be dialogue that I have forgotten but I really hope it's semi-good, I know a lot of you have wanted a third part so hopefully it lives up to your standards 🫶

There be "violence" in this one

<< Part 2 Part 4 >> Masterlist

Logan had spent the journey drinking Gambit's booze and watching you sleep. You looked younger when you slept, less worn. He used to love taking you to your room when you fell asleep grading his pupil's papers or even just watching TV in the sitting room. He'd scoop you up in his arms and secure you safely in your room, then eventually he'd settle you in his. 

You had said the word husband yesterday, that wasn't lost on him. You'd been married to your version of Wolverine. One that wasn't too ‘macho’ to ask. One that loved you freely. He was a fucking idiot for being scared to take that leap. He and you had settled into a fuck-buddy-but-there-were-feelings-involved situation. 

He could've had more with you. 

Maybe if he was with you he wouldn't have been at a bar when the humans attacked.

He was lost without his friends but he was truly wrecked without you. When he found your body amongst the pile of mutants something inside him snapped. He couldn't stop hurting people. It began with the bad, then the semi-bad, then the not bad and eventually he killed innocents. He killed people that didn't deserve it. He made a bad name for the mutants and the X-Men. He killed the X-Men by tarnishing the memory. 

He couldn't be without you again. He'd bring you with him, take you to wherever Deadpool was taking him.

Surely he could convince you.

“You'll have to wake her soon.” Laura's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She was staring intensely but not in an intimidating way. He didn't think she could stare without the intensity behind her eyes. She was born with it, through him. 

“I will.” He agreed. 

“You want some?” She raised an open cereal box. He didn't know why but he didn't want to insult her any more. He accepted some and thanked her. It was chalky but tasted vaguely like chocolate. Laura still just watched Logan, every stretch of his jaw as he chewed and eventually swallowed and then she still gazed into his soul  “You love her.” 

Logan didn't think it was a question but responded. He couldn't disagree if he wanted to. “Yes.” 

“I do, too.” She flicked her eyes to your face and then turned her head, repositioning herself on Blade's shoulder. 

Logan stayed still for another few minutes but the silhouette of the giant, Wade called Paul Rudd, became visible in the distance. It was time to wake you. 

He delicately shook your shoulder and you frowned, grumbling and burrowing higher into his neck.

“Baby.” Logan shook you again, and you let out a huff, squinting open one eye. “We'll be there soon.” 

You raised your head and slowly sat up, eyes sleepy and letting out a small yawn. Logan gave you a soft smile as he flattened a piece of hair that had stuck out, his hand slid down to caress your cheek. 

“You could come with us.” 

“With you?” Your brain was still mush. “I can't leave them.” 

“No.” He lied. “You should be up there in the skull with ‘Pool and me. It would be a better vantage point for you.” 

The plan was to have Laura, Elektra, Blade, and Gambit on the offence whilst you were their defence. You always were the protector, the shield of the group. Wade and Logan were going to distract and then use Juggernaut’s helm to bargain with Cassandra Nova. 

You took a moment to consider with your slow brain but then agreed. “Yeah, that's probably a good idea.” 

You continued to wake yourself up, preparing for a fight. It wasn't hard to, everyday in this wasteland was a fight. Everyone seemed to work for this Cassandra lady which meant that they wanted to kill you for not. 

In your peripheral you saw Blade open the sunroof, before rummaging in his bag.

Gambit spoke over the radio, “so, ami, ‘e gonna be ‘lastin’ a way through those’re hands.” 

“What he means to ask is how are we going to get through? I feel like that was an integral part of this plan and I have miss-” Wade cut himself off when he felt movement behind him. Blade had stood and freed the rocket launcher, hoisting it over his shoulder and aiming. “Oh my god, where did you get that?” 

El glanced through the rearview mirror and answered, “Punisher.” slamming her foot down on the gas.

“What one there's been like five?” 

You couldn't hear the end of his question as Blade fired the shot, it landed right in the centre breaking the fingers. 

“Hold on!” El ordered as she expertly spun the car to the left. 

Smoke plumed as you all were quick to exit. Elektra, Wade and Blade were to the left side. Logan, yourself and Laura to the right, Gambit was in the middle shuffling his deck. 

The others: mutants, supes, enhanced, all crowded you, waiting for the order to kill. There were familiar faces such as Lady Deathstrike, Toad, Juggernaut and Blob. There were others that you were fairly sure you recognised through their distinctive features despite them having different faces, like Azazel and Pyro. 

There were a good fifty more circling you, Laura smirked putting her sunglasses on. Blade spun his weapons then tapped one on Elektra's sais in a ‘cheers’ motion. Wade had his katanas out and your Wolverines both extended their claws. You and Gambit, the only ones with ‘magic’ powers stayed fairly still, well, as still as he could be. 

Cassandra was standing above you all in the skull of an Ant-Man, you remembered when he got there. She was quick to free him of skin and then organs. Positioning him in this horrid way, using his body as a base. It made you sick when you thought of the palaces and the buildings that came through the portals in abundance. 

“You came back.” She spoke. Her accent was posh but her tone was clipped. Clearly annoyed. 

“You have to send us back!” Wade shouted. 

She gave you a smirk and retreated into the right eye socket. 

Here's where the fun begins. 

“Let's fucking go!” Deadpool yelled. You all let out a war cry, Gambit's being “Allons!” as you all depart at the same time, each of you taking a side and going for it. Blade went toe to toe with Toad, Elektra fought Lady Deathstrike, Logan fought a very large man you didn't recognize, Wade fought a Doc Ock, Gambit took on a group of four, and Laura went for the big guy himself. Juggernaut. 

You were paired with Azazel. The man zapping about, striking you and vanishing before you could catch him. It took his tail tripping you for you to land on your back and actually be in a good-visibility position. Quickly you trapped him in a forcefield. It was an intense battle of power. The field had been a bubble but you wrapped it around his appendages and forced him to stay in one spot. Forced him still. But he struggled. He fought against you, red mist seeping from the forcefield as he thrashed about. 

You had trapped him but couldn’t do anything to dispose of him. If you flung him away he would just reappear and it was getting noticed that you were distracted. Quickly you rose to your feet, arms still extended, shaking with brute force and out of the corner of your eye you could see her. She ran towards you and you dropped on hand flinging a force field in the shape of a disc - you had so eloquently named a forcedisc - at her. It sliced through her side but she didn't stop. 

“El!” You yelled, barely dodging the acid she spat. Your arms stayed extended in the same position but you managed to kick her in the chest as she took a deep breath. She spluttered, acid dripping down her face and landing on her shirt. Her skin was immune but the fabric burned. 

Elektra spun to your call and nodded, having fought with you before she understood what was needed. 

You moved Azazel over to her and Elektra stabbed him, your forcefield opening just as the sai made contact. 

As you focused on the exact millisecond to release your palms, ‘acidgirl’ was able to choke you from behind. You conjured a muzzle over her mouth and held it there. Quickly plucking your knife out. 

Killing wasn't exactly new to you but it always felt bad, no matter if the feeling got smaller and smaller each time. You still felt guilty as you thrust behind and stabbed her stomach. 

Once you released the field her acid fell upon your shoulder. The suit fizzled and you were quick to pull the fabric from your skin. It still burned through but you pushed on. 

“Oit L/N!” Wade shouted over spinning cartoonishly across Logan's back to stab someone. 

You hadn't realised how isolated you were compared to the others, you were right at the back of the group, by the car. You threw out some forcediscs holding them stationary and jumped on them, over the heads of those trying to kill you. You ran, ascending up, towards the skull, flinging a couple out for Wade and Logan. They were quick to follow your cue and you made sure they and you got to each eye socket. 

They entered the right as you perched in the left, finding yourself at a much better position strategically.

Their plan was distraction. Yours was protection. You could do yours in your sleep. Quickly stopping a hammer landing on Elektra and misplacing a punch to Gambit. 

You had gotten more powerful being here. You had to. Your forcefields were no longer merely for protection, they could now be used as a force. Similar to Jean’s telekinesis except you were still using the forcefields, only they were now differently shaped, i.e. the ball that had knocked into the man's fist when he aimed for Gambit's face. 

A gate fell to the floor, landing on the Honda, and a creature stalked out of it, dark claws crushing the car as though it was tissue paper. 

You were quick to try and halt the thing. It was a humongous wolf? You couldn't be sure as it had two sets of eyes and three tails. It was clearly not from your version of earth. 

“Let it go!” Blade yelled up, smiling wide. “I got this!” 

You obeyed his order and focused your energy on Laura. Who had just decapitated Juggernaut. That's my girl. 

Quickly you flung multiple discs for her to jump onto, she was efficient as always and leapt towards the right eye socket when Psylocke's lasso yanked her back.

“Laura!” You screamed, instinctively opening a field around her head and closing your fist, crushing it - you'd never even thought to do that, never once occurred to use your power that way - just in time your baby tossed her backpack into the eye socket and it skidded across the marble floor and straight into Deadpool's awaiting hand.

You hadn't even noticed what was going on behind you. There was talking and now nothing. Sneaking a glance you saw Logan on his knees with Cassandra holding his cheeks. Her fingers disappeared into his skin, he was twitching slightly but she looked peaceful. 

Wade quickly revealed the helm and tiptoed behind her. 

“BOOM!” Gambit’s voice could be heard and then a series of much larger explosions than you were used to detonated. 

You were brought back to the battle at hand and decided that maybe crushing heads was the way to go when you saved El, who had been cornered by two men. 

Blade, having been fighting the beast, was currently sat on top of it and plunged a knife into its head. Downing the creature. 

There actually wasn't an awful lot of enemies left to fight and you were feeling good about the outcome when you saw it.

Alioth. 

The celestial dragon had its gaze set upon you. “Guys!” You called down. “Alioth is coming!” 

Realistically there wasn't anything you could do. You couldn't shield them from this. But perhaps Cassandra could? Did she save people from the dragon? Surely she didn't offer them up, right?

“Get inside!” You ordered and quickly turned to find Wade holding her firmly with Juggernaut’s helmet forced upon her. 

Logan was talking to her and you jogged over. 

“Alioth is coming.” You informed. 

“I can't save you with this on my head.” She taunted. 

“You won't save us anyway!” Wade countered, “Logan, you want me to off her?” His fingers twitched near her neck. 

“No.” Logan shook his head. 

“You sure? I'm right here.” 

“It's not what-Charles wouldn't want that. If he knew about you, my Charles, he would stop at nothing to come find you. To save you. He would've loved you.” 

You had known Cassandra for her reputation. She was the big cheese, she called the shots, she had an immense power and used it to do whatever she wanted. Everyone else were her playthings. But here, with the helm on, she looked small. She was tiny and thin and her eyes glossed over at Logan's words. 

“Mine, too.” You knew you didn't have to speak but you wanted her to know. That was the X-Man in you. Charles’ influence. Everyone deserves help. 

She looked at you and you felt as though she was looking into your very soul. Her eyes, even powerless, were weighty. 

“We can't release her, she'll kill us.” Wade reminded you. He wasn't wrong. What could you do? What should you do? 

You didn't have the time to think of a plan. “We need to hurry up, that monster is on its way.” 

A gunshot echoed through the skull as well as your own. You quickly forced a shield up, covering the four of you. 

Pyro was behind it, pointing the weapon at Cassandra. Your eyes followed the angle to see she was beginning to bleed heavily from her stomach. 

“I am tired of being her errand boy! 'Do this, get that', well no more!” He sauntered towards you all, the gun lowered to his side, you slowly eased the shield back as he spoke. “When is it my turn? First Magneto, then Apocalypse, Scarlet Witch and now Cassandra Nova!” 

When he was within range Logan silenced him with an efficient right hook. You know it hurt, because that man was heavy. 

“Not everyone gets a speech.” 

Blood splurged from Cassandra’s mouth as she coughed. “Shit!”  

“Wade, you have to take her helmet off.” 

“She, again, will. Kill. Us.” He tightened his hold. “You missed it, she said she'd ‘rub herself silly watching’ a second ago!”

“She's dying.” You argued. 

Logan agreed, “she needs her powers to help us, we're stuck here if she dies.” 

Wade let out a frustrated yell before he conceded and yanked the helmet off her. Her body fell to the floor as he let go and you were quick to help her. 

“It's okay, can you hea-” She was already up and standing, leaving you kneeling on the floor. “Oh.” 

You stood to your full height and watched as she kicked Pyro’s body before addressing you. “A wizard came through here. He died and I got this.” She revealed a fancy ring. Causing Wade to gasp and say ‘strange’. “You saved me and I am curious to how this will play out...so I suppose I can get you back, but you better hurry. As your friend mentioned, Alioth is coming.” 

Cassandra raised her arms and spun a circle, forming a physical one as she did. It crackled and sparked and in the centre was a street. There were cars and houses and people. It was home. Or a version of a home. 

It was civilisation. 

After all this time you could smell it. 

“Go on.” She nodded towards the ‘portal’. 

Logan grasped your hand and you were tempted. By god you were. 

But Gambit, Elektra, Blade and Laura. Your Laura who you had to help with her periods and hygiene; Laura who came into your room when she had a bad dream; Laura who had offered to help feed Blade - in a similar fashion that Logan did - because she ‘healed’ and didn't want you guys to suffer. 

You pulled free from him. “I can't leave her.”  

“Y/N.” Logan tried again. “This is your chance to escape!” 

“I won't leave her.” You clarified. 

“I-” 

“Guys, chop chop!” Wade accentuated the words with a clap. 

“Save the world and come back for me.” You offered lamely. It was a very long shot. But what else could you say? You knew he was here to save Deadpool's world, if it worked maybe you could all live there?

“I can't lea-” 

You pushed him away. “Go. I'll be here.” 

.

.

Part 4

[pucksandpower]

Sleepyhead

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: sometimes race weekends can be so tiring that words escape you, but that has never been a problem for your doting boyfriend

Based on this request

You walk down the paddock path, utterly exhausted after a long day at the track. Your eyelids feel like lead weights and you can barely put one foot in front of the other. Charles has his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, practically carrying your limp body as you lean into him for support.

“Tired, mon petit chou?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You just let out a little grunt in response, too drained to even form words.

As you round the corner, Logan Sargeant spots the two of you and rushes over with a big grin. “Hey guys! How’s it going?”

Charles gives him a polite smile. “Hello, mate. We’re doing well, just a bit tired after such a busy day.”

Logan turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N? Are you okay? You look kind of … mad or something.”

You blink slowly at him, your brain taking its time to process his words. Mad? Why would you be mad? You just shake your head minutely, rubbing your cheek against Charles’ shoulder.

“Oh no, she’s not angry,” Charles explains with a little chuckle. “This is just how she gets when she’s really tired. She goes all quiet and doesn’t speak. Her body language is the only way to read her moods then.”

“Yeah, and right now she’s giving off major sleepy kitten vibes,” Oscar’s voice chimes in as he joins the little group with Lando beside him. “Lando gets the exact same way when he’s exhausted. He turns into a limp noodle that I have to carry around.”

Lando huffs indignantly. “Hey! I do not!”

“Yes you do,” Oscar laughs. “Remember that time in Monza last year? You were falling asleep on your feet after the race.”

Lando rolls his eyes but a fond smile tugs at his lips. “Okay fine, maybe I do. But only sometimes!”

You let their playful banter wash over you, your heavy eyelids sliding shut as you nestle further into Charles’ embrace. You feel so safe and comforted in his arms, his solid warmth enveloping you.

“Alright, I think it’s time we got you back to the hotel for some rest,” Charles murmurs, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Say goodnight to the boys.”

You manage a tiny wave at Logan, Oscar, and Lando before allowing Charles to steer you down the paddock towards the exit. His hand runs up and down your back soothingly.

“Goodnight you two! Get some sleep!” Oscar calls after you.

Once you reach the car, Charles helps you into the passenger seat, buckling you in gently before jogging around to the driver’s side. You’re asleep before he even starts the engine, finally giving in to the exhaustion weighing you down.

The sound of a car door opening rouses you from your slumber sometime later. You slowly blink your eyes open, taking in your surroundings. Charles’ hand is tenderly stroking your cheek.

“Mon amour, we’re at the hotel. Let’s get you up to our room, hmm?”

You nod drowsily, allowing him to unbuckle you and help you out of the car. He pulls you into his side, one arm securely around your waist as you walk unsteadily towards the hotel entrance. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover what you feel for this man by your side.

Once in the elevator, Charles shifts to face you fully, those warm green eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You did so well today. I’m so proud of you for working so hard. Let’s get you nice and warm in bed now.”

You give him a tired little smile, nuzzling your face against his chest. He chuckles softly, squeezing you tighter.

Eventually you make it to the hotel room, Charles guiding you straight to the plush king bed. He helps you out of your clothes until you’re down to your underwear, then pulls back the covers for you to slip between the soft sheets. A happy sigh slips from your lips when your head hits the pillow. Charles presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Sleep well, mon cœur. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he whispers, laying down beside you.

You immediately curl into his side, draping an arm over his stomach as you burrow your face into the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, making you feel so small yet so incredibly cherished. With Charles holding you snugly against his chest, you drift off into a deep, peaceful slumber.

When consciousness returns, the first thing that registers is the solid warmth of Charles’ body pressed against yours. His leg is hooked over yours, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. There’s a pleasant ache to your limbs, the satisfying kind that comes from a good rest after a long day. You shift slightly, causing Charles to stir awake.

“Bonjour, ma belle,” he murmurs, his sexy morning voice making butterflies flutter in your stomach. You tilt your head up to meet his sleepy but adoring gaze, suddenly drowning in those green pools. God, he’s so beautiful.

“Good morning,” you whisper back, rubbing your nose against his.

Charles breaks into a dazzling grin, capturing your lips in a soft, slow kiss that steals your breath away. When he pulls back, he cups your cheek tenderly.

“Did you sleep well? Feeling more rested now?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, smiling lazily. “Sleeping in your arms is the best.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I couldn’t agree more. I love holding you close like this.”

Your heart swells three sizes as he gazes at you with such naked affection. This man loves you so fiercely, so completely. You can see it in his every look, his every touch. He treasures you in a way you never thought possible. Feeling brave, you let the words sitting heavily on your tongue finally slip out.

“Je t’aime, Charles … mon amour.”

His smile turns blinding, happier than you’ve ever seen it. “I love you too, with all my heart,” he breathes, pulling you in for another lingering kiss.

You melt into the embrace, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude you feel for this incredible man into the kiss. Nothing has ever felt so right, so perfect than being here in his arms. As Charles strokes your cheek and deepens the kiss, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll always feel safe, cherished, and deeply loved by this extraordinary man.

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. fluff; smut (p in v unprotected sex; heavy breeding kink; creampie; oral - reader receiving). canonically bisexual reader. dp+w movie spoilers.

synopsis: you and logan have a pretty happy life… but there’s still something you want.

words: 10k.

notes: part 2 of say you’ll remember me. you don’t have to read it for this part but it is referenced. thank you @eupheme for being my beta, and for the use of the dividers!

Logan wakes to the twinned warmth of the sunrise and you curled around him like a cat. 

You’ve always been attracted to the way he runs hot, a creature of habit in any timeline. A magnet seeking him out even when asleep; you are pretty much a permanent fixture by his side when the weather is a little too chilly. Not that he’s complaining - he loves to sling an arm around you and feel you snuggle into him. Loves to keep you close. 

It’s nice, honestly; Logan has more good days than bad ones now. He never thought he’d get to see that again. Sometimes things get rough, sure, recovery is not a straight line - but you’re there with him on every step of that journey and he’s more thankful for that than he can ever express. You’re a grounding rod keeping the storm of his life in check. 

You intuit that he’s awake, something between you innately connected, and you begin to stir, body brushing up against his. He sleeps naked, usually running too hot to bother with any kind of pyjamas, and you’ve started sleeping shirtless too. Maybe it’s because he makes the bed too warm to stomach wearing one, or maybe it’s just because you like to feel his naked chest up against yours - either way he isn’t complaining. 

You stretch, arching yourself into his flank, blink open your eyes slowly. Smile when you find him looking down at you with soft, hazy, early-morning features. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, voice rocky. You reach up to kiss him, as is the way you usually like to start your day. It doesn’t take long for the chaste peck to become something more: the gentle parting of lips, slipping out the pink tip of your tongue to meet his. His body stirs. He can practically smell the way your blood pumps faster, pooling at the apex of your legs. 

“It’s so early,” you faux-harrumph when you run your hand towards his cock and find it hardening. How can you blame him when you’re so fucking sexy? Logan hums, manoeuvring you both so that he can look down at your sweet face as you lie surrounded in cotton sheets. 

“Then stay right there, baby.”

He kisses a sleepy, loving trail down your clavicle; luxuriating along the plain of your chest, nipping at your soft stomach in a way which beckons a breathy chuckle from you, steeped in the gravelly tones of morning. 

“Mmm, Mr Howlett, you are an incorrigible fiend.”

“Incorrigible, huh? Big word for someone who says they’re so sleepy…” he mutters, smirk ticking up the side of his mouth as his calloused fingers dip under the waistband of your pyjama shorts. 

“Incorrigible. Insatiable, even.”

He drags them down your legs, slowly, taking in the sight of you bathed in the dawn’s roseate light. You move your hips to let him. 

“Hmm. You complaining?”

“Oh, never.”

He grins and gets to work.

Logan loves the tang of you on his tongue. You’re still a little sticky from last night, where he pushed you chest-down into the mattress and fucked you so hard he was slightly worried he’d break the bed frame. He didn’t - but he’s perfectly happy to try again. 

You let out a fluttery little breath, butterfly light, as he starts his work properly. Burying his face in your cunt, letting every sense be drowned in you. He drags his tongue along your needy folds and you groan above him, hooking a leg over his shoulder and sinking your heel into the thick muscles of his back. He could listen to the noises you make for hours, a little symphony just for him. 

“Fuck, Logan,” you sigh, blissful and light-headed. He lets his mouth focus on your clit as he presses a couple of fingers inside. It’s an easy intrusion, your pussy offering up no resistance, a mix of spit and slick aiding him. He starts to crook them in a beckon and the mewl you let out will stay with him for the rest of the day; he smiles against your cunt. 

“That’s it, baby,” you groan. Fuck. He loves your voice when he’s making you come. Would do whatever you tell him to, just point him in a direction and he’ll follow. He is so utterly at your beck and call, a dog at your feet, so happy to obey. Anything for you, anything. 

He speeds up his pace, hand fucking you in a simulation of his cock last night, tongue pressing hard and flat against your folds. You come in a flood all over his mouth, soaking his beard and dripping off his chin. His favourite fucking flavour. All the furniture in the room jolts as you send out a telekinetic wave of force, knocking over a lamp onto the carpet with a dull thud. 

“That damn lamp, we need to move it…” you grumble. Logan kisses your thigh gently. 

“Baby, if the fuckin’ lamp doesn’t fall over, I’m not doing my job right.”

You laugh. There’s a pearlescent sheen of sweat that’s broken out over your body but you’re giddy and joyful. An arm slung over your eyes does nothing to hide the smile on your face, so wide it must hurt your cheeks. Yeah. He’s done good. 

“Let’s go shower,” you say, in a way which he’d never dream of arguing with. You walk naked into the bathroom and pull him under the hot stream of water with you. The room slowly fills up with steam and Logan presses you up against the tiled wall, burying his face in the warm space between your neck and your shoulder as he sheathes himself inside. You drag your nails down his back and he growls in your ear, slowly pumping his hips to bring you over the edge again. 

Ever since that first morning that the two of you were intimate, you’ve been wild for each other; unable to go a day without keeping your hands away. Like teenagers who haven’t understood the concept of pacing themselves. He wants to be drunk on you all the time, always wants your gasps filling his ears, his name dripping from your lips as he makes you come. 

He knows he’s the only man for you… but hey, nothing wrong with proving it too. 

You spend a leisurely forty minutes in the shower with your back against the wall and your legs around his waist, then eventually do what you meant to and clean up. He loves to watch you wash, smell the perfumes of all the soaps you use. You look adorable with suds in your hair. Plus when you ask him to get your back with the loofah it’s just another excuse to touch you and god knows he loves doing that. 

He’s a man content when you finally return to the bedroom. 

Logan watches you pad about and do your morning routine, one he knows like the back of his hand by now. Once again: you’re a creature of habit. Pointing to the radio you use your powers to turn it onto the only channel the two of you ever listen to: an ‘oldies’ station which never plays a song made post ‘89– 

—he remembers a few weeks ago when you were both visiting Wade, chatting about how bad songs are nowadays, and your friend had challenged you: “okay you two geriatric lovebirds, no conferring - when was the last good decade for music?” Without missing a beat you’d both answered “the eighties” and, as Wade groaned at how ‘cringe’ you both were, Logan had fallen in love with you yet again— 

—and you smile and turn it up when Aretha’s I Say A Little Prayer starts playing. Logan watches fondly as you croon out the chorus, using the hairdryer you’re plugging in as a microphone. He loves watching you sing. You don’t always hit all the notes but that’s not really the point - the point is he gets to see you be silly and vulnerable and totally and utterly yourself in these moments, something he knows to hold dear to his heart. 

If you’re singing, you’re happy. 

Fuck, he loves you. 

The two of you get yourselves ready for the day to the music which fills the room, quietly happy in each other’s company. The sound of people getting ready for the day starts up in the hallway; kids coming down for breakfast and squeaking their sneakers on the hardwood, other professors grousing about lesson plans - unfortunately it's time to break the cocoon of solitude the two of you have made for yourselves and face the morning properly. 

“What’re we doing today?”

He squints at the calendar to try and make out your handwriting, attempting to ignore the gaze of the “hot bisexual lumberjack” of the month staring out at him with her barely contained breasts and suggestively placed axe (this had been your birthday present from Wade, and you’d loved it). You tut at him. 

“Logan Howlett, we need to get you some glasses,” you say, pulling on your own and pressing your finger to today’s date, reading out the scribbled ballpoint. “Let’s see… we’re both teaching until five, then looks like there’s a Flames game in the evening you wanna watch. I, however, have been cornered tonight: the girls found out I’ve never seen the Barbie movie so apparently they need to correct that - though I ask you, when I was living in a place literally called the Void, when I would have gotten the damn chance. People weren’t just throwing copies of that thing away. Apparently it’s a great movie.”

‘The girls’. The comfortable nickname you’ve assigned the trio of Laura, Ellie, and Yukio. Logan’s glad Laura has managed to find her people with them - he was secretly worried that, if she took after him too much, she’d be a little too stubborn to make friends at all. Nothing to worry about though. She’s thriving here, and he’s relieved. Happy, even. 

“You’ve not seen Barbie?” Logan asks. You’ve moved to the boudoir now and pause as you apply your face cream, bottle floating in the air centimetres from your neglected skin. 

“Wait, you have seen Barbie?”

He shrugs. Yeah. He doesn’t remember the context, he’d had two full bottles of whiskey by then - but for some reason they’d put it on at the bar he was drowning himself at and he’d sat through the whole thing, leaving a smear of pink on his memory. 

You blink, still gobsmacked. 

“Did you like it?”

Logan considers this for a moment, knowing you’ll call him grumpy if he’s too critical, but also sure you’ll never ever stop teasing him if he praises it. Oh, and god forbid Wade ever finds out…

After a long moment he settles on, “it was alright.”

You shrug, happy with this assessment. 

“Well, good. Guess I’m in for a good evening then.” You stand up with gusto, the indication you’re ready to leave. “Shall we?”

The two of you walk to the door, taking a moment when Logan pulls you into an embrace - your back to his front. You look in the mirror, admiring the couple you see in the reflection, something you do every morning without fail.

“I love you, Logan Howlett,” you say. He drops a kiss to your shoulder. 

“I love you too.”

And with that, the day begins. 

Teaching is a very broad term for what he does. Basically, it’s his job to help the older students with self defence. Every day he goes to get the shit beaten out of him by a load of kids but it’s also the best workout he’s had in over a decade, so he doesn’t mind too much. Keeps him in shape, keeps him sharp. Plus he feels like he’s actually doing something helpful, finally adding to the world rather than just being a burden on it. He spends the first period running battle formations with them, keeping them on their feet and quick to react. Can’t have them getting in danger, not when he’s around.

The class takes a break to get water and he finds himself staring out the window, smiling fondly to himself when he sees you leading a little seminar. After you spent all that time in the wild and then the Void, one of the things they have you teaching is survival skills - you’re a dab hand at getting by just with what you can forage. Looks like you’re going to do some practical exercises as he can see you leading a group of the younger kids towards the forest which surrounds the mansion.

Something happens which makes his heart ache. 

There’s a kid by your side you’re in animated conversation with, probably no more than seven or eight, and they’re looking at you like you hung the stars - just absolutely enchanted with how cool you are. Without thinking they slip their hand into yours for support or guidance or comfort, one of the three anyway, and after a beat you give them a smile. 

In that beat, even from this distance, Logan can see the bittersweet look on your face. The longing. You would wear parenthood well and it’s not fair that you never got a chance to experience it firsthand. It’s a sadness which weaves its way into his guts and stabs him there, an old kind of pain, one he felt for you in his own timeline.

Logan wonders if it’s too late. Are the two of you too old now? Would you both be too hurt if you tried and it didn’t take again? He wants to give you what you want, desperately, but he’ll be damned if he’d ever do anything to upset you; he can’t shake the feeling that’s where that road would lead.

“You okay?”

Laura’s voice makes him jump. She’s a quiet little devil, that’s for certain, definitely not something she got from him - all blades and bluster in his youth. He nods because he doesn’t really want to get into detail about his private life with his pseudo-daughter. 

But unfortunately she’s smart, and his eyes linger, so it's only a matter of her following his gaze to see what’s got him pining. She smiles a small, comforting smile. 

“If there’s a problem you should just talk to them. They’ll listen.”

He harrumphs at the fact a girl less than one-tenth of his age is giving him life advice but also knows that what she says is true. He doesn’t address what she’s said, instead cocking his head at the training mats. 

“C’mon, back to it.”

Laura groans and returns to throwing her classmates across the room.

The thought stays with him for the rest of the day though. After class, when he returns to your shared rooms and starts to get himself set up to watch the game, he finds himself thinking about you with a baby in your arms. A mix of him and you with soft skin and excitement for the world. His eyes, your smile, a perfect combination.

And you’d be so happy. 

Fuck. He’s too old to get broody but here he is, huh.

Logan sits heavily in his recliner, the one nice purchase he’s allowed for himself since getting this job, and opens a root beer. TV remote in his hand he switches on the hockey and settles in for the evening. 

After about twenty minutes his phone goes. He frowns, opening up a text from Laura.

there’s some Pringles in the kitchen can u get them for us please the love of ur life is hungry

Logan sighs and replies, thumbs slow and unfamiliar on a touchscreen. 

all of you have legs. get them yourself

Another message immediately: It’s a picture. You’re busy painting Yukio’s nails bright pink, glasses on the end of your nose and concentration on your face - but half torn between the task at hand and watching the movie you’ve been sequestered for. You look cute. Logan stares for a moment and then saves the photo to his phone. All his albums are just pictures of you at this point. 

Plssssss

is the final text in the chain. Logan definitively puts his phone away. He’s watching the game. He’s not going to get out of this chair to grab a tube of fucking Pringles, he’s not whipped. 

A moment. 

He groans.

Fine.

He gets out of the chair. He’s whipped. 

He heads to the kitchen and gets the requested snack, Hank giving him a knowing and sympathetic smile as they pass in the hallway. He finds you in the lounge, surrounded by girls. Clearly the news of the Barbie watch had gotten out and created a swarm because dozens of eyes look up at him as he lingers in the doorway like a giant awkward dog.

Finally you pull your eyes away from Ryan Gosling’s chest long enough to see why everyone has turned. When you spot him you light up.

“Oh! How did you know I wanted Pringles? Been craving those bad boys recently.”

“Lucky guess,” he replies, stepping carefully between pink dressing gowns and well-thumbed gossip magazines to pass them to you. When he’s within range you drop a kiss on his lips too, prompting an “oooooo” from the gathered crowd. You roll your eyes at them but smile at Logan.

“Thank you baby. What’d I do without you?”

He grumbles something non-committal under his breath and retreats, ignoring the shit-eating grin Laura is flinging his way. Eventually the crowd turns back to the movie. He tries to resist the urge to stand in the doorway with his arms crossed and watch along, the stereotypical father figure who insists he’s not interested, but finds himself lingering for a moment anyway just to see you.

Ellie has her feet slung across your lap, Yukio blows on her freshly-painted nails to dry them. One of the younger girls who’s been delegated to the floor by her older peers rests her head on your knee as she starts to nod off and you play with her hair for a moment - an action which comes readily to you, like it would to a parent.

Logan decides two things. 

One, he’s going to marry you, and he’s certain that every second that he hasn’t been your husband up until now has been wasted. 

And two, he’s going to put a baby in you, like you deserve.

On the way back he passes Hank again, who has an insanely huge sandwich stuffed onto a far-too-small plate - except this time Logan flags him down with a question, one which his colleague has to consider for a moment.

“Oh! Hmm. Yes, I’m pretty sure that it’s in the garage, sometimes the kids like to see if they can get it working again…” when he sees a scowl settle over Logan’s face he’s quick to add, “but none of them have been successful! I think the keys are in the ignition.”

Logan thanks him and heads back to your rooms, a plan forming in his head. 

You get back late. He’s listening to music and reading the paper, the game having finished long ago - the Flames winning of course, there was no other option, go Flames - the weight of the ring he’s swiped from your boudoir burning a hole in his pocket. He hopes you won’t notice - he needs to get your size, after all, and he knows he can’t ask you without rousing suspicion. 

“Hey,” you say, dropping a kiss on his cheek and yourself into his lap. The paper is discarded as his arm automatically comes to perch on your waist, dragged there as if by a magnet. Can’t not touch you for a second.

“Hey. How was the movie?”

“Yeah, pretty good! You know most of those girls hadn’t seen Legally Blonde? We had to remedy that after Barbie, apparently it’s considered a classic now. Fuck, it makes me feel old.” You groan and drop your forehead to his shoulder.

“You’re not that old,” Logan says, and when you come to fix him with a scathing look you find he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Tease,” you sigh, reaching in to kiss him, but stopping when you hear something on the radio. 

“What’s up?”

“Oh. This used to be our song.”

It’s AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long. It feels strange seeing the way your eyes get a bit hazy, a bit distant for a moment. 

“Good choice.”

“Uh-huh. She… you liked it a lot,” you whisper, for a moment lost in a memory he has no way to share with you. It stings you both. But then you’re back in the room with him, smiling as if nothing had happened. 

“We must have had a song, right? In your universe.”

Is this painful? He isn’t sure. But you shared yours with him, so it seems only fair he make it even. 

“Yeah, we sure did.”

You narrow your eyes, purse your lips playfully.

“I betcha I can guess it.”

He hums. 

“Okay. What’s the bet?”

“If I can’t guess I’ll do that thing you like. If I can guess, you do that thing I like.”

Oh, well, when you put it like that…

“Why not?”

You search his face, reading him for any telltale signs. 

“Mmmm, male singer or female? Or both.”

“I didn’t realise you got clues…”

“It’s not a game if I don’t, is it?”

“Fine. A guy.”

You think for a moment. 

“It was Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns n’ Roses.”

Logan widens his eyes, genuinely impressed that you got it so fast…

“Holy shit.”

…But the grin which crosses your face suggests you’re playing a trick. 

“I hear you hum it a lot. It wasn’t a big leap, honestly,” you confess. He chuckles, but pauses for a second as he realises the implication of this discovery. 

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I like that song too.”

You don’t seem saddened by this conversation, so he guesses it’s okay - he’d never wanna hurt you by dredging up the past. Maybe it’s okay. Maybe it’s okay to reminisce about what used to be, while knowing what you have now is so strong and secure. 

Logan pulls back to look at you, attempting to affect seriousness but knowing he could never fool you for a second. 

“So you cheated, huh… doesn’t seem very fair…”

“Hmm, you’re right. I guess I’ll have to forfeit…”

You slide off his thighs and onto your knees in front of him, grinning as you go for his belt… but pausing so that you can use your powers to turn off the radio. 

“Unless you want to come to Brian Johnson’s voice, but it doesn’t do it for me personally.”

He laughs, actually belly laughs, and if the two of you aren’t engaged by the time the week is out he’ll be damned.

He’s able to go to a jeweller’s the next week under the guise of finally going to the city and getting glasses, and buys the perfect ring there and then. It must be fate that they have it in your size, a silver band and pretty stone. The caveat of this is, that for the ruse to work, he does actually also have to go to the opticians.

He comes back with a small pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a chip on his shoulder about the fact they make him see so much better. You seem pleased though, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing the bridge of his nose.

“You look very handsome.”

“Mmmm…” he grumbles. You laugh and kiss him again.

“What are you doing today?”

“Workin’ on something.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a secret, can’t tell ya.”

You harrumph.

“A secret, huh…?”

“A surprise, then.”

You sigh dramatically.

“Well, okay. If it’s a surprise I suppose I’ll let it slide. The girls and I were gonna head into town to go shopping anyway so I guess I’ll see you tonight?”

You kiss farewell and when he’s sure you’ve left the manor he heads to the garage. It doesn’t take much searching to find his old Harley, hidden under a dust sheet and waiting patiently for his return. Logan can’t help the smile at the old thing, running his hand along the neglected metal frame and scaring a spider from its perch.

“Sorry I was gone for so long, baby,” he rumbles, then gets to work.

The next few days are tough. He doesn’t want to ruin the surprise, but you’re clever, always investigating without meaning to, noticing when he trips up on an inconsistency. So whenever you try and weasel information out of him he simply refuses to answer. You’re grumpy, sure, but he can think of a few ways to make it up to you.

He’s nervous in a way he hasn’t been for… well, a while. He’s sure you’ll say yes. You’ll say yes, right? You’ve already been married once before – to him – so the odds are in his favour, but still, he gets a churning feeling in his stomach when he looks at the little box. Anxiety. He’s far too fucking old to be anxious like a schoolgirl asking out a crush, he feels goddamn ridiculous…

But.

But.

What will he do if you say no?

Ah, he can’t dwell on it for too long. Logan channels all of his effort into fixing up the bike - even allowing Laura to join in when she crosses her heart not to tell you - and plans ahead. Checks the weather. Picks his favourite shirt. 

Takes the plunge.

That morning Logan asks you to prepare a picnic and then meet him outside the manor. You look up at him from the reflection in your boudoir mirror as Carole King floats from the radio, an eyebrow arched.

“Oh? Why?”

“C’mon, I haven’t cracked yet. You think you’re gonna get me now?”

You pout. You’re cute. He drops a kiss on the top of your head.

“It’ll be worth the wait.”

“Well-ll-ll… okay. I’ll trust you. Shall I wear those jeans? The ones which make my ass look great?”

“Baby, all jeans make your ass look great. You have a great ass.”

You grin and scurry over to the wardrobe.

He heads downstairs and brings the Harley round front, fingers tapping nervously on the hand clutch as he waits. For the millionth time he checks his pockets. Yep, ring still there. 

As you leave the front door, basket nestled in the crook of your arm, the smile which crosses your face is the same as if you’re seeing an old friend again.

“Oh my god! I had no idea this thing was still kicking around!”

You run the last few steps and put your hand on her chassis. You genuinely look a bit choked up.

“Fixed her up so I could take you for a ride.”

Your expression is so soft, so loving when you look at him.

“Logan… that’s so sweet.”

Stepping forward to press up against him you pull him in for a kiss, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He hums against your lips.

“Put a helmet on,” he says, handing one to you as you stow the basket. You fix him with an old-fashioned look as he presents it to you. It’s bright pink and has Barbie written across the side.

“God damn you Logan Howlett…”

“You liked the damn film. Keep hearing you sing that stupid song to yourself.”

You harrumph but don’t deny it, instead fastening the helmet on and climbing up onto the seat behind him.

It feels good when your arms tighten around him for support. Always feels good when your arms are around him, honestly, no matter what the cause. He revs the engine loudly a couple of times making you giggle, then speeds off.

He feels your fingers tighten in his shirt as he drives, weaving between whatever cars happen to dot the road as he goes. He’s not had a bike between his thighs for years now but you never really forget how to ride one. Besides, with you as his cargo, he makes sure to go safe. When he was a younger man he’d have been pushing the Harley to her limits just to get his blood pumping… nowadays he’s happy to take it slower. The longer the ride, the longer you’re pushed up against him, after all.

He’s still such a sucker for your touch.

It’s a nice day, and when he eventually slows down to the old lookout spot he used to take you to, you grin as you see the familiar view.

“It’s been a long time,” you sigh, eyes sparkling in the sun. You smooth your hair down where the helmet has taken its toll and start to lay out the treats you’ve packed onto a gingham blanket: thick-filled sandwiches, a fruit salad, a whole apple pie which Logan has no idea how you smuggled out. Fuck. He is so lucky to have you.

He sits and forces himself to eat, knowing the ring is hidden away in his pocket. You’re happy to take the lead on the conversation as you always are, chatting about your classes in between bites of roast beef, but cock your head to the side when a period of silence goes on for too long.

“Something’s on your mind.”

“What?” he asks, silently cursing himself for being so obvious. You reach out to rest a hand over his.

“Is there something you wanna talk about, Logan? It’s okay if there is. We can face it together, you know. We’re a team.”

As you let that sink in with him you wave your hand to bring out a thermos from the basket. It pours out two cups of coffee, both black, and you float one over to each of you.

He watches this with sharp eyes.

“You didn’t add any creamer,” he says softly. You smile, using your free hand to lift the cup to your lips.

“What can I say? I guess you got to me.”

You’re finally a coffee purist.

Logan blinks, taking in the sincere look on your face. There is only absolute adoration written there. It is a plain and simple fact: you love him more than he thought anyone could ever love him.

After a beat, he pulls his hand away.

He shifts to one knee.

Your eyes go wide.

“Logan…?”

“I gotta… you gotta let me talk. I need to get this out,” he says, slipping his hand in his pocket to grab the ring box. You cover your mouth in shock. “You’ve made me a better man. And more importantly you make me want to be one. I wanna spend the rest of our lives together because I’d be a goddamn idiot not to.” He opens the hinge and the ring shines where it’s seated in velvet. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh shit,” you say, then you do something unexpected. You throw your head back and laugh. 

Of all the reactions he was not expecting that.

Logan’s hands dip a little. What the fuck? Is this a rejection? Did he screw this up, monumentally misread the signs between the two of you? Are you having some sorta episode? What has happened to prompt this?

“Oh, baby, no - don’t be sad! Just… hang on…” you say when you see how his face has fallen. He watches as you root around in the picnic basket. “You won’t believe this…”

You shift to one knee…

…and pull out a ring box of your own.

Logan’s mouth falls open as you present a ring to him. A plain gold band, shiny and new - one you’ve had made specially for him. 

“I got your size from my Logan’s old ring. I’ve had it for days just waiting for the right moment and… I guess you have too.”

This information settles around him like a deep, sudden snowfall. His eyes can’t leave the little box you’ve pulled out. 

A smile creeps over his face.

“Holy shit,” he laughs, echoing your sentiment from earlier, and then suddenly you’re laughing too, head thrown back in utter joy. You throw yourself into his arms and press kisses all over his face: his beard, the end of his nose, all over his cheekbones, and then finally his mouth. He can feel the tears spill over your eyelashes and dampen his face, and holy fuck is he in love with you.

“So is that a ‘yes’?” he asks against your lips. He can feel your grin under his mouth.

“Depends if it’s a ‘yes’ from you.”

“Of course. I want you to make an honest man of me.”

“Then fuck yeah. I’ll marry you, Logan Howlett.”

Another glorious, effervescent peal of laughter falls from you and then you’re kissing him again. Together your hands fumble in order to exchange rings, a difficult task when neither of you will open your eyes and break lips, but eventually he manages to slide his ring on your finger and feels you exchange your own.

It feels good. It feels right.

Logan pushes you back onto the blanket, picnic forgotten for the moment. His mouth turns from sweet to hungry as he uses his body to cage you in. His hands drop to the hem of your shirt and start to pull it up so he can trace the bared line of your chest. 

“Logan, here?” you ask in a way which suggests here is great, actually. 

“Why not? Nobody watching. Just you and me, honey.”

He wins you over easily with that argument and your hands go for the top buttons of his flannel. When you find your fingers aren’t doing a fast enough job you start using telekinesis to undo them from the bottom, too. He drops his grip to your hips and fiddles with your belt and the fly on your jeans, groaning with pleasure at how easily you accommodate him and lift your hips so he can strip you.

“Fuck. You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he growls. His hand skims your underwear and takes a handful of your ass - god he loves your ass - as you rid him of his shirt so you can run your palms over the thick plain of muscle in his back.

“Look who’s talking,” you breathe against him, biting down on his bottom lip and tugging at it. Electricity shoots through him.

“Harder,” he mutters. You oblige him and sink your teeth in just enough for a little blossom of blood to spill into his mouth.

He’s going to go crazy right here on this blanket, you will drive him to insanity. What bliss. 

He kicks off his jeans and starts grinding his clothed cock against the fabric covering your cunt, like two teenagers so desperate to get off that they don’t even bother to get naked first. His blunt head catches on your clit and you groan at where you can feel him leaking.

“Love it when you fuck me, Logan,” you sigh. He’s not sure if it’s pride or arousal which throbs through him, probably both, but he realises then he has to do now what he should have done a long time ago.

Claws come out, he cuts your underwear off and you squeal in delight. For a moment he considers just sliding inside but if he’s going to do this, it has to be done properly.

So he pushes your legs upwards against your stomach, in a way which he knows your hips will complain about but your pussy will love. Your mouth is a soft little o as you realise you are being manhandled into a mating press. 

“Logan…?” you breathe, a little confused but giddy with pleasure, sucking air in sharply when he rolls his hips to try and slide his cock inside your wet heat. 

“Wanna put a baby in you,” he states, simply, growling it out. Your eyes roll back and you moan at his words, what a pretty sight. 

“But we… oh fuck… I don’t know if we can…”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he manages, pressing his hand to the soft paunch of your stomach under which your womb sits, “let me try.”

Your eyes go wide as your head empties.

“Okay, yeah. Do it. Fuck a baby inside me, Logan.”

What sort of loyal dog would he be if he didn’t follow orders?

His legs trap yours against your body as he starts fucking you in earnest, pressing home inside you with one rough thrust. You mewl and knead at his skin with worshipping hands as he moves. Each undulation of his hips buries himself in you impossibly deeper, so he knows when he spills inside you it’ll be right where it needs to take.

“Fuck…” you hiss, palm cupping his face so he can look down at you, gaze on your gorgeous face. The crease of concentration between your brows as you register how tightly he’s nestled inside you, lips soft and kissable. Your hair blooms like a halo, an angel silhouetted against gingham.

He loves you. Oh, how he loves you.

“Wanna be so full of you, Logan… want to walk around with your baby in me. Show everyone who I belong to.”

He growls but he also knows he belongs to you, too. You have his heart in your ribcage beating alongside your own, a thing he has freely given because you’re the person who most deserves it. He’d never want it to rest with anyone but you.

Logan moves his hips in slow, sensual movements, taking time to luxuriate in the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your walls. When he presses back inside he sees the way your eyes roll back as he hits that sweet spot, gloriously blissful.

“Gonna take you somewhere nice n’ quiet on our honeymoon and keep you in bed, doll. Fuck you until you’re full. Not gonna stop until we’re sure it’s taken. Watch you get all round with me. Goddamn, can just imagine how you’ll glow.”

You gasp at the filth he’s muttering but the grin on your lips show you’re incredibly enthusiastic about that idea.

“Yeah… want you to fuck me whenever you want, Logan… bend me over and fill me up… I’m yours, only yours…”

Something about the way you sigh that last part flips a feral switch in his brain. His hips speed up and the slap of skin on skin echoes from your hips, and then he’s coming in thick ropes to paint the inside of your pretty pussy. Mark you up as his. You groan at the feeling of warmth blossoming inside you but he knows you haven’t reached your peak yet. Usually he’d make sure you orgasm before him… but he has something a little different in mind right now.

Logan slips out of you and you mewl in the displeasure of being emptied. This doesn’t stop him manoeuvring your ass into his lap, though, keeping your legs spread so he can push three fingers inside your warm and willing entrance. A groan rips itself from your throat as you clamp desperate fingers down on his forearm. Were he a human man you’d leave fingerprints for certain, and for a moment Logan regrets that you can’t — he’d love evidence of this tryst; apart from your growing belly, of course.

“Fuck. Yes, Logan, push it inside me,” you whine. Oh goddamn, he’s so easily broken when you beg. He uses his fingers to gather up his spend as it tries to leak from your fucked-puffy cunt and presses it back into your hole. As he goes he makes sure to crook them inside you, hitting the same spot he was with his cock just moments ago.

All you can do is hang on and choke down air as he fucks you with his hand. He’s an expert at your body, can play it like an instrument; it doesn’t take long to get you where he needs you. He feels your walls twitch and then you’re coming around his knuckles, a filthy mix of his release and your own dripping all the way down to his wrist.

You collapse back onto the blanket, gasping for breath as your wits return. As he slowly pulls his hand away from you, you reach out to grab him and pull him to your mouth, sucking the cocktail of you both from his fingers and running your tongue around him.

He groans.

“Fuck. You’re gonna ruin me.”

“But what a way to go, huh?” your smile is devilish. He can’t help but reach down and kiss it. Your hand tangles in his hair and scratches his scalp affectionately. 

A beat.

“So… we’re trying?”

You don’t need to specify for what. He knows. When Logan pulls back there’s an expression of barely-concealed hope on your face. Makes his heart melt. His fingers move to lock with yours, squeezing gently down on your knuckles.

“Yeah. We’re trying.”

He’s never seen you look so happy. You trace your abdomen with a careful hand. The ring he got you glints on it, the stone reflecting the sunshine. 

“Well, okay then.”

It doesn’t take long for news of your engagement to spread. You tell Laura who puts it in a group chat she has with the other students in the mansion, and from there it has no chance of staying secret. In fact you return after you finish the picnic (and an attempt to tidy yourselves up) to a chorus of ‘congratulations’ from a gathered crowd at the door. Logan pretends to be grumpy but honestly? He wouldn’t trade the look of joy on your face for anything. He shows off his ring alongside yours and people coo with adoration at how cute you both are.

Once he’d have snarled at ‘cute’. Now he just accepts it as you snuggle into his side. 

You go to meet up with Wade and Al a couple of days later to tell them but it turns out word travels fast. The apartment door is thrown open in your faces as Wade pours accusingly. 

“I can’t believe I had to find out about this via social media from a teenage girl! What am I, back in high school? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to deal with puberty again, it wasn’t kind to me,” he says, waving his phone at you to show a cheerful post about the engagement put up by Yukio. Logan doesn’t get a good look, but does see the words “still find love in old age” which makes him bristle.

“Sorry, Wade. But you know, we live in the same house as her,” you say, sounding genuinely quite apologetic. Wade deflates a little at your tone, but keeps the act up anyway.

“Big-ass house. Coulda kept your damn hands in your pockets…” he mutters, but then gives you a sincere hug. When he turns with his arms open to Logan, he sighs and accepts one too. “But really, I’m happy for you two. Just don’t forget about your old perpetually single buddy Deadpool when you’re off bumping uglies as a legally wedded couple…”

“I think I might try and forget you during those times actually, Wade,” you say with a laugh. 

“Hmm. Oh wait, holy shit - can I be your best man? I promise you I scrub up pretty well. Well, apart from the face. Mmm, and the rest of my body. My ass looks great in a suit is what I’m saying,” this is directed at you and you give Wade a sad smile.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, I already asked Laura. We kinda trauma bonded in the Void,” you say. Wade’s eyes slide over from you to Logan.

“Oh my god,” he grumbles.

“C’mon, peanut! Isn’t that what best friends are for?”

Logan opens his mouth to snap that they are not best friends but then… he just sort of… closes it. He’s too old to have a best friend. Grown men don’t have best friends. Or at least that’s what he’d have said a scant few months ago. But now…

“Fine,” he sighs. Logan feels you squeeze his hand in joy as Wade lets out a woop which startles Al.

“Yes! I won’t let you down buddy. I’m gonna give you the best dry bachelor party of your life. The strippers will be so hot you won’t even need beer to make them look good!”

“Wade…”

“Joking! Joking…” he says, in a way which suggests he probably wasn’t - though about the quality of the strippers or there being any in the first place, he can’t be sure.

The two of you don’t want a big wedding. You had one in your own timeline and know how stressful it can be. You’re both able to come to the same reasoning: it isn’t the size of the celebration which matters, but that you’ll be married by the end of it. That’s what it’s all leading to after all. Every morning Logan wakes up to the weight of your ring on his finger and he feels complete. He feels grounded. 

He’s happier than he’s been in a long time; maybe ever.

You book a day to go down to city hall and sign the marriage certificates, only in a couple of weeks’ time. The kids all make you cards, shoving them under your door or handing them over during lessons. Soon your room is covered with crayon-scribbled well-wishes and poorly drawn felt-tip depictions of you both. Mostly, it’s you smiling, and Logan snarling with his claws out. You laugh every single time you see one, so he doesn’t mind too much. There are always little love hearts doodled between you anyway. At least the kids know you’re happy together.

Time moves by quickly but maybe that’s just a symptom of being in love. Classes no longer drag on and drain him, instead Logan starts every morning with the vigour of a young man… though the fact that he fills you up every morning before you both head to work might help. It’s strange; you never use protection anyway, but now it feels like there’s a purpose behind the way you fuck. Any position where he gets to see your face as he comes deep inside you will do it for him honestly. He could live in your cries of pleasure, the way you mewl his name, the duty of putting a baby inside you. Before long, those couple of weeks the city hall needed to get your paperwork in order are up, and the day arrives that you’re finally able to go and make things official. 

Logan wakes in bed alone. This is expected. He came home late last night after his bachelor party which, to be fair to Wade, wasn’t so bad. The guy had just organised some friends to play poker late into the night. Due to - what Laura has coined as - his natural ‘resting bitch face’, he cleared everyone out. He’s two hundred and sixty dollars richer so now he can grab you some nice flowers on the way to the wedding. He’d gotten a text saying that you were staying at a hotel in town for the night, the girls had insisted on keeping you separate because it’s tradition. Logan isn’t sure what about this whole situation is exactly traditional, what with all the crossed timelines and long-lost soulmates, but if it makes you all happy he’ll relent.

He showers, missing your body in the steam with him, then walks naked back into the room to grab something nice to wear, fingers fumbling with the radio as he goes. It picks up just as the host is introducing the next song.

“...goes out to Logan from ‘the love of your life’, who is pretty sure you’ll have the radio on by now! Apparently you’re getting married today? Well a big congratulations from everyone here at the station, you two, enjoy this classic tune…”

Chapel of Love by the Dixie Cups starts to spill out from the speakers and Logan chuckles, grabbing his phone and tapping out a message.

Cute.

You text back almost immediately. He can imagine you grinning at your screen as the music plays, waiting for his reaction.

I am. Can’t wait to see you today, baby ♥

Yeah, he can’t wait to see you either.

Seeing as it’s meant to be a relaxed ceremony you’d both decided not to wear anything too formal. Logan pulls out a white dress shirt and a fresh pair of jeans, toeing on the boots he cleaned last night. He looks at himself in the mirror before deciding to roll his sleeves up to his elbow. For some reason you go crazy when you can see his exposed forearms; you say it’s “pure unadulterated sex appeal”. He’s never understood it himself but anything to make you smile. 

Laura grabs a ride with him in the pickup he uses. She’s wearing leggings and a baggy suit blazer but he has to admit, the kid looks pretty cool. Despite his several warnings not to she sits with her feet on the dash playing with her phone, calling him a boring old man for not wanting her to go through the windscreen. 

“Remember I heal like you, dummy. It’s no problem.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want you turning up to my wedding covered in glass with your clothes ripped to shit.”

She grumbles and relents, ever the petulant teenager.

He manages to get parking nearby, so someone up above must be smiling down on him, takes the short walk to the city hall - making sure to get a ridiculously large bouquet as he goes. As he takes in the smell of roses he realises it isn’t that he’s feeling nervous per se, but there’s definitely an anticipation running up his spine. Realistically he knows nothing will change when the two of you are married on paper.

But… kinda everything will change.

He spots you talking to Wade on the grey stone steps, and his mouth is pulled into a smile at the cute little dress you’re wearing. You had been going on about how you picked it up at the thrift store - what a bargain! - and now he sees it, he agrees about how it highlights your figure perfectly. You light up when you see him… and Wade’s face falls as he turns.

“What the fuck! I thought this was a wedding?! Now I look like I’m in a competition for most formally dressed dickhead!” he says, gesturing to himself. He’s in a full black tuxedo and is definitely the most suited up person for about five blocks.

“It is a wedding. Not my fault you never asked the dress code,” Logan states. You burst into laughter as Wade pouts, but he seems to be taking the ribbing pretty well. Your hand tangles into Logan’s. He looks at you.

“Hey,” you breathe, taking the flowers and taking a deep breath of their sweet smell. “Thank you, these are lovely.”

“You deserve the best, baby.”

“Aww. You know, look great.”

“So do you.”

“We scrub up pretty well, huh? Great choice on the sleeves, by the way.”

Logan smiles into the kiss he presses to your lips. Laura groans at the public display of affection.

“C’mon, your slot is coming up. You two wanna be late for your own wedding?”

And so you traipse up the stairs to the office where the smiling registrar has you fill out the paperwork to officially be married to each other. When you see Logan’s hands shake a little, you press your own to the small of his back and rub small soothing circles there. Wade and Laura cheer when you have your first kiss as a wedded couple and burst party poppers of confetti over you both. The group of you stand together and get a picture to celebrate the day: Logan’s arm around your waist while yours is secretly perched on his ass, Laura grinning and holding the bouquet for you, Wade laying across the front of you all Breakfast Club-like. 

Logan smiles so hard his face hurts.

It’s nice.

Though the two of you didn’t want a party it’s pretty hard to convince the kids at the manor of anything, so you get back to a banner reading congratulations! It’s held by your youngest students who cheer as the group of you get out of the pick-up. Yukio rushes in to give you a tight hug and you laugh, joyful at the love you’re walking into.

The dining room has been cleared to set up an impromptu celebration space. A metric tonne of pizza has been ordered and Piotr, the rather willing DJ, makes sure nothing pre-1989 is played. 

He’s never really been one for dancing, but when you drag him to the middle of the wooden floor and wrap your arms around his neck Logan can’t help but sway with you to all the cheesy love songs. You press your forehead to his, tips of your noses meeting. You breathe in harmony. You let the same air fill your lungs.

“I love you,” you sigh a dozen times over, dreamily.

“I love you too,” he breathes a dozen times back.

When you throw the bouquet that evening you’re in such a good mood you both forgive Wade for body-checking a kid to grab it out of the air.

Logan thinks about his life and smiles.

He’s got it pretty good.

He takes you on a honeymoon for a week to a little cabin in the woods he rented out. It’s in the wilderness, miles from anyone or anywhere, which means he’s able to do what he wants with you: have you naked the whole time.

The two of you don’t do anything but fuck, and you’re very down for it. Something about married life has you more horny than you’ve ever been before. For the first couple of days you hardly leave the bed, Logan only heading to the kitchen to grab you some food to keep your energy up between sessions, pumping you full of his come until you’re a sticky and sated mess. He feeds you slices of pie as you lay dazed on the mattress, a pillow under your hips to keep his spend from dripping out of you.

“Fuck, Logan, you’re gonna kill me,” you groan as he starts rocking his hardening cock up against you the fifth time that day.

“Nah, baby. You can take it.”

You fall asleep with him buried deep inside of you so that the thing waking you up the next morning is him rolling his hips. It’s a pretty fucking good way to start the day.

Eventually the two of you leave the bedroom and walk around the place. Autumn is coming in properly now, the green of the trees outside turning to reds and oranges. You wrap yourself in a blanket and stand at the huge windows looking out at the vista, your aesthete sensibilities pulling you there. Silhouetted in October’s light, Logan can only be struck by how perfect you are: your body, your heart, your soul. His, all his.

He’s the luckiest goddamn man alive.

He takes you against the windows, your chest pressed up against the cool glass and making you gasp in thrilled pleasure, rubbing loving circles on your clit until he feels you clench around him.

At night the two of you huddle by the wood-burning fireplace, the flames dancing across your bodies as he makes love to you slowly, non-hurriedly, letting you enjoy each other. You push him onto his back and ride him, head thrown back so he can appreciate the long line of your neck which he traces with thick calloused fingers.

Fuck, he’d keep you here forever if he could. A little slice of perfection made for just the two of you. Nobody to bother you or call you away for duties, just your love and all the space it needs.

It’s a shame when the two of you have to return to the manor, but he has a job to do. Kids to teach. A Wade to keep in check. It’s easy to slip back to day-to-day life, though, when he has a wedding ring on his finger and you in his bed.

That is until one day he finds you with your head in the toilet, emptying your guts of the day’s breakfast.

“Logan, I don’t feel so hot,” you groan. He goes into panic mode, worrying you’ve got some sorta bug, practically carrying you to Hank’s lab so the doctor can get a good look at you. When you get there, he doesn’t seem incredibly impressed, but checks you over diligently because he’s a friend. 

“Look, I don’t mean to be crass, but have you taken a pregnancy test?” he asks, bluntly. Your eyes go wide over the glass of water you’re sipping.

“Well, no, but…” you trail off. Logan can see you counting on your fingers, trying to make something add up in your brain.

“Ah. Right. I don’t have one but I do have an ultrasound scanner, it was one of the things Charles foresaw a use for I suppose…”

So Logan stands there as Hank wheels the thing out and has you lay down on a counter - this isn’t the med room after all, there’s no beds in here. Your hand grabs onto his as Hank carefully lifts your shirt and presses the wand to your stomach.

There’s no mistaking the image on the screen. Head, body, arms and legs. The baby’s picture thrums. Hank does not seem surprised.

“Yep, there it is. You’re pretty far along. I’m not an expert, but I’d say three months?”

“Three…!” you look at Logan as if this is his fault. Which, he supposes, it sort of is. “But we’ve only been… uh, trying for a few weeks now.”

Hank shifts uncomfortably. Logan wants to die. He does not want to talk about his sex life with a peer.

“Have you been using birth control?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Then I think you have your answer. Nature did what it does best.” He manages a smile. “Congratulations to you both. I’ll uh, let you have a moment alone.”

He practically runs out of the lab. The two of you are left sitting there in silence.

Then slowly, so slowly, your hand comes up to rest on your abdomen. You look down at the point of contact and tears well up in your eyes.

“Logan…”

With one word you summon him, his strong arms wrapping around you and holding you tight, an anchor in this moment of joy. He buries his lips into your hair as you sob, utterly overwhelmed.

“Fuck, we did it, baby,” you manage to choke out. His hand comes to rest on your own and then you switch, covering it with yours so that he can feel the skin of your belly. It’s warm and soft. It feels strange knowing that his child is in there. Strange but right.

He gave you what you deserve. His heart beats a little faster and he realises his vision is blurry, too. Fuck. Look at him, welling up. 

Ah man, he doesn’t care.

The kiss between you is wet and desperate, an act of triumph and elation. As his mouth presses deep into yours he feels you tug at his shirt, pawing at him like an animal.

“Honey, I’m not gonna fuck you in Hank’s lab,” he states. You whine beneath his lips.

“But I wanna celebrate…” you mewl, hitting him with the doe-eyes. He scoffs a laugh and you pout. “Besides the pregnancy hormones are driving me crazy.”

“You just found out.”

“Yeah, weird how quickly they can take effect…”

Logan gently but firmly removes your exploring hands.

“We can do it somewhere our friend and coworker doesn’t spend his whole day. C’mon,” he silences any protestations with another kiss, soft and loving, “we have all the time in the world, baby.”

You run your fingers through his hair, eyes still a little dewy, but smile is undeniable.

“All the time in the world…” you sigh, a promise. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

those of you who liked part 1, too: @inumakisriceingredients @respectmyprivacys-blog @xcalcalcalcalx @moonixlity @justanothermarvelfanaccount @taraa-dactyl @nitimurinvetitumsposts @sseleniaa @diegobrandolover99 @blackcanvaspainting @youngestxhearts @veggie-eggrolls

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : ASLEEP IN HIS ARMS : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: you often struggle with fatigue and tend to fall asleep easily, sometimes mid-conversation or while watching TV with Logan. At first, he’s unsure how to react, worried that something might be wrong, but as your relationship grows, he becomes more accustomed to it. He starts to find comfort in the way you trust him enough to fall asleep on his shoulder or in his lap. Logan quietly cares for you, gently adjusting to your needs, and cherishes the peaceful moments where you sleep in his arms, feeling protective and close to you.

Based on this request.

THE SOFT HUM OF THE TELEVISION BARELY FILLED THE QUIET OF THE LIVING ROOM. Logan sat on the couch, legs stretched out, one arm casually draped over the backrest. His eyes flickered toward the clock on the wall and then back down to you—your head resting gently on his shoulder, breathing slow and steady. You had fallen asleep again, the same way you always did.

You hadn’t been dating long, just a few months, and everything still felt new and exciting, but also a little uncertain. Logan wasn’t used to this—this softness, this quiet kind of intimacy. At first, he wasn’t sure how to react. The first time it happened, you two had been watching a movie together. About halfway through, your laughter grew quieter, and you leaned into him a little more.

“Hey, you okay?” he’d asked, glancing down at you. He felt your body relax against his, and when he looked closer, your eyes were closed.

You were already asleep.

He wasn’t sure what to do. His initial thought was that you must’ve been bored out of your mind—he hadn’t picked the most riveting movie. But the longer he sat there, feeling the warmth of your body against his and listening to your steady breathing, the more his concern shifted to something else. Were you sick? Had you been sleeping okay?

He didn’t want to wake you, though. You looked peaceful, your lips slightly parted, your face soft in sleep. But curiosity gnawed at him. Once the movie ended, he gently shook you awake.

“Hm?” you mumbled, blinking your eyes open.

“Hey,” Logan said softly, his eyes searching yours. “You fell asleep.”

You blinked again, straightening up a little and rubbing your eyes. “Oh… I did?” Your voice was groggy, still thick with sleep.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah. Everything okay? You seemed really tired.”

You gave a small, sheepish smile, pulling your knees up to your chest. “Yeah, I get like that sometimes. I dunno… just tired a lot lately.”

“Like, all the time?” His brow furrowed slightly, concern creeping into his voice.

You nodded, leaning your head back against the couch. “Yeah, pretty much. It’s not a big deal, though. I’ve always been like this—get sleepy out of nowhere, sometimes.”

Logan had tried to understand, but it threw him off at first. He hadn’t really known anyone who could just pass out like that, so effortlessly. It wasn’t like you were doing anything exhausting; sometimes, you’d just lay your head on his shoulder and within minutes, you’d be asleep, even during conversations. He couldn’t help but feel a bit strange about it at the beginning—did you feel comfortable? Were you okay?

But as weeks passed, he began to notice that it wasn’t boredom or disinterest. It was just… you. Sometimes you’d yawn, lean your head against his chest, and within minutes, you’d be fast asleep, the world drifting away. It was just how your body worked.

Now, it had almost become second nature. Like tonight, for example. You had planned to watch something together, but you barely made it through the opening scene before you nestled up next to him and dozed off. Logan smiled softly to himself, looking down at you again.

His fingers gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face. He could hear your steady breathing, could feel the weight of your trust as you relaxed completely against him.

A part of him had grown used to this—this quiet routine where you found comfort in him, even when fatigue pulled you under so quickly. He loved it, honestly. It was endearing how you trusted him enough to fall asleep without a second thought.

After a while, he stopped feeling awkward about it. Now, when you nuzzled into his side, he’d just let his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. Sometimes he’d switch off the TV and let you sleep while he’d sit there with a book, content just to have you near him. It wasn’t about what you were missing—he realized it was about being there, even if it was in silence.

You stirred slightly, shifting in your sleep. Logan looked down, his hand gently rubbing your arm. “You okay?” he whispered, not really expecting an answer.

You mumbled something incoherent, and he chuckled. He adjusted slightly, careful not to wake you, and leaned back into the cushions. His fingers absentmindedly traced small circles on your arm, and he found himself smiling. This had become your thing now, and though it wasn’t something he had expected, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

But tonight, as you lay there, he couldn’t help but feel like maybe you were overworking yourself. Tomorrow, he’d ask you again—make sure you were taking care of yourself, ask if there was anything he could do. He’d thought about mentioning seeing a doctor, but he didn’t want to push too hard. For now, though, he’d just be here.

After a little while, Logan shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you as he reached for the remote. He turned off the TV and rested his head back on the couch. You didn’t stir this time, just pressed a little closer to him, your hand resting on his chest.

He smiled softly, his heart warming at the simple gesture. The quiet of the room felt comforting, and despite the small pang of worry that lingered in the back of his mind, he felt peaceful in moments like these. The trust you showed him, how easily you fell asleep in his arms—it made him feel something deeper than he could put into words.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured quietly, his voice so low he wasn’t even sure if he had said it out loud. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, feeling the warmth of your skin against his lips.

And even though you couldn’t hear him, not really, you shifted just enough to let him know that, in some way, you understood.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @veru-boom @wolviesgirl @lanabobana @shybluebirdninja @corvusmorte @seamlessepiphany @allmyn1ghts

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!! ❤️

[groovyangelkisses]

okay so I can’t help but get the lyric “washing my hair, doing the laundry, late night tv, I want you only” by Miss Lana Del Rey herself out of my head. I keep thinking about it having something to do with Logan! More like X1 Logan (but any era you want) and maybe reader just saying it to Logan during soft and gentle sex after a long day? I’m feeling very cliche tonight. (love your writing btw)🎀

thank you for the kindness, sweetheart! this has been slowly corroding my soul recently so, absolutely yes. this is sooooo cage fighter!logan! 💋ྀིྀི

this is my first long, smutty fic. please be gracious with myself, and my work!

beautiful, deep normality.

nsfw— minors dni, please ₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ : my ode to lana x logan, not proofread, SMUT, oral (f recieving), copious "i love yous" during sex, fem!reader, cage fighter!logan, established relationship, spit (with love)

3:08 am. and no sign of him yet. cradling a bin of laundry to your hip, you ignore the exhaustion pulling at your shoulders, waltzing through your small home, tinted blue by a lonely moonlight. the small tv in the corner, usually crowded by a grumpy logan in his favorite recliner, hums lowly— static on static, you feel electric waiting for him to come home.

the velcro rollers lightly pull on the baby hairs at the nape of your neck, and tracing your fingernails over the offending pull does nothing to quell the stinging. the house feels empty without the presense of logan, without the feel of his towering being lurking on shadows of the walls or placing weight onto your bed. your chest bounces, up & down, as a glimpse of a life without logan settles on you like the soft weight of his white beater you wear.

waiting up for logan was never an easy feat, in fact, it's the hardest part of your day. waiting for greatness, for comfort, for ease and safety had the hairs on your arms pricking in anticipation. i wonder if he's thinking of me, you pause your folding minstrations to ponder, though you know the answer. "always am babydoll," he'd say, "just can't seem to shake you."

the scrape of the front door breaks you out of your trance, you turn, a small smile resting on your sleepy face. the house seems warmer, the nauseating blue of the grainy tv seems brighter— all because of him.

logan looks down as he enters the small space, shaking his keys in his left hand as he shrugs off his denim jacket; lined with the gorgeous, warm flannel pattern you sewed in for him a few weeks ago.

he doesn't meet your eyes as he toes his boots off, softly moving to his chair with the silent shuffle of his socks on the wooden floor. he plops himself down with an exasperated head shake, leaning his head back to rest when you notice it. a deep cut on his lip, healing slower than the rest of him.

"baby? oh, baby, what happened?" you coo, rushing over to him to perch yourself on the arm of the recliner— your usual spot. staring ahead at the late night talk show on the television, his hand instantly assumes its place, resting on your hip as he sighs, "'s nothin. shit day, is all." you nod, understanding why he blankets himself with silence; his work life is reduced to hit, after hit, all to provide for you & him.

your long nails scratch the hair at the nape of his neck, a desperate attempt for him to meet your eyes. his eyes flutter closed, the bright neon of cable swiping across his exhausted, sweaty face like a kaleidoscope. your other hand reaches up, lazily, gently, swiping across his face & tracing his beard. logan growls low in his chest with affection, and for a moment you think he'll meet your eyes— abandon the shame of his labor, the metal corroding sadness that a girl as beautiful as you is stuck with him in this shitty apartment. but he doesn't. this must've been a terribly exhausting day for him, you think to yourself.

with a light tap to your hip, his lips curled inward, logan stands and stretches his arms above his head. his triceps tense as he attempts to find relief, staring at the ceiling as he decompresses. he's too far away, much too far away.

"lo?" you rise from the chair, your his beater riding up across your tummy as you gaze up at him. "hm?" his hand rubs across his hairy cheeks and chin, his eyes finally opening to look at you.

in this light, his stature looks larger than usual. broad shoulders highlighted by the moonlight filtering in from the broken blinds. chest heaving in and out of the light reflecting from the kitchen— making a stripe across his white beater, in and out with his breath. his hands twitch, making a fist & releasing with the scattered applause on the television, and his socks dig into the soft carpet beneath his feet. stale sweat glistens on his face, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone as the overhead fan slightly blows hair across his forehead— the gel you put in for him this morning having melted from his match tonight.

and you want him. the thought of the weight of him on top of you consumes you, for a moment. so big, so scary and mean to the outside world, but so gentle to you. he needs that gentleness now, you can see it in his loving, hazel eyes. you & he stare at one another for a few beats before you speak, your hair rollers clacking as you maintain, "i want you, logan."

he was thinking it, too. just.. after the matches he went through today, he had no idea how to tell you just how much he wants you, too. logan's breath stutters, the strip of light from the kitchen bleeds into his shirt as he moves closer to you. eyes softening with desire, you double down, "i want you on me, logan. all the time." your head bobs as you nod, needing him to understand just how much you adore him.

breathless, though you've both been in this position many times, he wraps his arm behind your back, pulling you into him desperately. it seems that he's finally taken his first breath of the night, like he's finally free and safe— no longer King of the Cage when he's with you. logan's hand slides down your trembling arm, moving yours to rest above his heart as he cradles your head to him, "so sweet to me. i don't understand it."

"don't need you to, lo. just need you to know it... know that i want you. always will" sighing into his chest, you tear up. he pulls you back, a piece of hair falling over his forehead as he gazes down at you. in the darkness of your home, he tears up too, kissing you with both hands cradling your face, "take care'a me. need you so much right now" he stutters between kisses.

it's a blur, the descent into your bedroom, logan guiding you backwards as he kisses you. somehow, despite the lack of vision and control, this is the safest you've felt all day. he lays you down on your bed, hair framing your face as you smile up at him. and one finally stretches across his face, too. "beautiful. too fuckin' beautiful, ah christ, you make me ache" logan smiles, hand coming up to touch his chest in a movement of genuine infatuation. and you giggle at him, and his smile grows wider as he nips at your collarbone, hands framing your face like he is almost afraid to touch you.

the curlers dig into the back of your head as he moves down your body, lips dragging across cotton and skin. "did'ya think of me today, bub?" he asks, mid sniff of the skin of your womb, warm from his touch. you nod down at him, a little embarassed and flushed. "yeah?" logan smiles "when? when'dya think of me?" he pauses his movements to relish in your shyness— ever the tease. closing your eyes, your hand falling across them as you giggle, you place one hand in his hair and sigh, "washing my hair... doing the laundry... every second, lo" sweet, loving eyes stare up at you mid-kiss as the moment grows serious, you repeat "every second." logan grunts in response, calloused fingers peeling your white panties down your legs as his hands run down them— eager to touch as much of you as he can at once.

placing your legs over his strong, but weary shoulders, he leans in to lick a stripe up your cunt, gooey spit warming your thighs. logan sighs breathlessly into you, kissing and nipping at your button as his eyes close in relaxation. this is just as much for him, as it is for you.

his blunt fingernails dig into the sheets beside you, afraid to touch, ever gracious with his meal. you bring his hand to yours, locking fingers as he looks up at you, tongue never ceasing his adoring attention as you writhe and pant. making love to logan is one thing, one soul-shattering experience, but this? this is logan making love to you with the same mouth he claims never knows what to say. but every word is gospel to you, every prod of his tongue, as well.

"so sweet" he finally speaks, voice gruff as he releases your hand to cup your lovehandles, holding you in place. your release is right there, his nose leaving lovebumps on your clit as he swirls his tongue, dipping into a spot made by the universe only for him. you squeal, legs kicking his shoulders, as you attempt to back up from the intensity. but logan holds you in place, yanking you back to the edge of the bed, his heavy arm draping across your tummy to keep you in place as you wail. "c'mon sweet girl, 's okay, i can take it," he whispers, sloppily kissing your folds, big thumb reaching down off ur tummy to rub your clit in the sweetest little circles.

you cry out, mouth forming an "o" shape as you finish, logan mocking your face with a growing smile overtaking the wide-eyed "o", "'s a good girl... good girl, baby." bringing his thumb to his mouth, he licks the rest of you off of the pad quickly, moving back up to watch your face as you breathe and gather yourself.

the weight of him on top of you feels so good, so fulfilling, so right. you're so interlinked with one another, that as you whine from the aftershocks, he whines lowly with you unconsciously— your pleasure is his, it seems. with a hand behind his neck, fingers once again twirling in the hairs at the nape, you pull him into a kiss as he groans. "so good" he chides, "want you all around me, honey."

he pushes his jeans and boxers down, throwing his belt to the floor with a clink & raising his eyebrows in slight shock at the sound. you laugh, and he looks back at you with a flushed face, bad day seeming further and further away as the end-of-summer air floats in from the window. your back arches as he places his pillow beneath your hips, always wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

logan lays fully on top of you, kissing you as you drag your nails down his back. pulling back, he exhales in pleasure at the drag— a welcomed pain, compared to the punches he'd taken, to appear normal, of course, at the bar. his hand trembles as he leans down, holding his cock in his hand as he drags it across your weeping cunt.

logan's breath falters, catching in his chest like a tied satin bow, "you love me?" he asks you. "y-yes... so much.. so so much, logan" you remind him, growing desperate for all of him, always.

"you-you want me?" his eyes are closed as he asks you, too afraid to look, too afraid to face the possibility that maybe one day, you won't. you cup his face, feeling the dried down mixture of his spit and your pleasure on his beard. no words are spoken as you nod, looking into your lover's eyes with sincerity. he mirrors your nod, interlinked as always, and slowly pushes into you, eyes clenching shut as he grits out "fuuuck, my baby."

logan bottoms out, letting you catch your breath from the stretch of him. he breaths roughly through his nose, gaining his control as he gets lost in the sounds, the smells of your shared apartment. the tv, long unwatched, continues to blare in the living room. the ceiling fan clicks with each rotation, and you're underneath him— as soft and pliant and good at taking him as you've always been.

lurching forward, logan connects your lips, a slight drag in his hips; back and forth, back and forth. you whine, lips parting in bliss as he looks at you, a line of spit connecting you as you pout. his head falls, one hand placed atop of your head as he wiggles his hips into you, deep enough that you swear he can feel your heart beating. "i want you. every... every fuckin' minute i'm awake, d'ya understand me?" he gushes, finally letting himself go in the pleasure, in the pain, exhaustion and you.

"i-i understand" you whisper as his hips lightly pick up his pace. there's so much slick between you, that when he slips out for a moment, he's gutted, frantically trying to find that warmth again as he pants, "theeeere we go... thas' good, thas' right"

the domesticity, the weight, the way he trusts you— all of it leads to you losing your breath, back arching as you warn "l-lo, 'm gonna...i-" he cuts you off, head snapping back up from watching himself disappear into you to kiss you, hot tongue comforting you. "i love you, f-fuck, thank you for waitin' up for me. sweet girl, i fuckin' love you. come, c'mon, i wanna feel you"

and when you do, when the stars spread across your ceiling and your eyes roll back, you can feel his hips stutter. pulling logan closer to you, you whine "more more more" and the poor, exhausted man loses it, his head falling next to your own as you feel the full weight of his metal skeleton as he chokes out a final, thick, rumbling grunt.

losing his breath, logan pants, hand grasping to find your own as he comes down from his high, spend leaking onto the bed beneath you. "jus' a few more minutes, babydoll. tell 'er to love me for a few more minutes" he asks, slowly starting to fall asleep with his face in the mattress, as your cunt clenches, loves around him.

an uncomfortable position? sure, but he won't move, you couldn't even make him. nothing could stop him from needing you, always, just as much as you need him.

the ceiling fan squeaks, the tv drones, the moonlight bathes him, the rollers pull at your hair, and he's finally home, in you.

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : I wrote 2 chapters worth of material today … but imma make y’all wait for tomorrow 🤠👹

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warnings : Moderate Cursing

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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*message sent

Notification : You received a message from Oscar

*Incoming Call from Oscar

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

“Hi Osc”

“Hi to you too. You sound so sleepy”

“Yeah, I didn’t get that much sleep on the plane.”

“I told you to limit your coffee intake. I’m not there to stop you , you gremlin control yourself”

“I know I knowww”

“So why’d you wanna call? You should sleep”

“Its just weird that I’ve gotten to see your face practically everyday since last month and now I wont see you for like 2 weeks”

“Well we both work very hectic jobs, so that would be expected. But yeah ~ i’ve gotten used to your presence”

“ Hey Osc… Is it weird to say that I already miss your voice? “

“Only my voice?”

“Well your voice is like Jake Sully y’know.”

“You and your Avatar obsession . And I do not sound like Sam Worthington”

“Who??”

“The guy who voices Jake Sully”

“Ok but how do you know that?? I don’t even know that at the top of my head. I just like Jake cause he’s hot”

“I know that because you forced me to watch blue people run and swim for 10 freaking times!”

“Well you made me watch Cars with you on repeat!”

“You also loved Cars! what do you mean?”

“Ok, I do but that’s besides the point”

“What is your point dweeb?”

“ My point is that I miss you already”

“Well I miss you too”

- Hey Osc, is that Lily? -

“Hey I’ll be back. Lando’s talking to me. Don’t hang up, alright?”

- What? No. We’ve broken up , I’ve told you that -

- I thought I heard a girl’s voice. Is she your new fling? -

- I dont do flings Lando -

- Whatever you say mate -

“Hello? are you still there?”

“Helloooo?”

“You’ve dozed off huh. Sleep well dearest”

Y/N.

liked by oscarpiastri, y/bf, logansargeant, and others

Y/N. Florida I love you but you’re too hot. Rehearsals are brutal! 🤠 send jake sully thirst traps pls

Y/N. Whaaaaa who said that?

oscarpiastri Youre so weird.

Y/N. Because having a crush on a blue car isnt??

logansargeant Its not weird to have a crush on Sally tho

charles_leclerc I support my son’s tastes. Crushing on Sally is valid.

Y/N. But me having a crush on a giant blue man is not???

oscarpiastri nope. thats weird Y/N

logansargeant nope. thats weird Y/N (1)

charles_leclerc nope, thats weird Y/N (2)

Y/N. ugh i h8 the patriarchy

Y/bf Y/N your glowing babeeee!! So excited for Floridaaa. Im catching myself a cowboy 🤠. (and ur Jake Sully crush is so Valid!!)

Y/N Babe give me a call, your pass is still with me! ( RIGHT? The blue man is hot)

Y/bf That he is, but I think orange suits you better 😘 liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri you are so right @Y/bf but its actually papaya 🤓

Y/bf stfu Oscar, im making u a case here 😤

user1 I dont know what to freak out about??!! Y/N adding another day to her concert sched or Oscar being in Y/N’s comment section and CLEARLY being flirty.

user2 Sir that is your teammate’s ex 😮‍💨

user3 Well lando did cheat … so eff the bro code or smth like that— i dunno im not a guy

user4 we can freak out about both!!! YES MY SHIP IS FREAKING FLOATING (it aint sailing till oscar confirms his breakup)

user5 Y/N becoming more unhinged by the second

user6 Y/N looks like she’s becoming better and happier 🤍 we love to see it.

user7 Enjoy your time Queen!

User7 Y/N in American soil is built different

User8 We see that like Oscar 👀.

oscarpiastri 3mins close friends

story replies

charles_leclerc do you like Americans now? well its very plausible since Logan’s American.

oscarpiastri Are you insinuating that I like Americans because of Logan?

charles_leclerc Yes, exactly that.

oscarpiastri NO.

logansargeant I knew it! Western always winssss 🤠🦅

oscarpiastri Why am I not surprised.

Y/N. Ohhhh whos the hot chick? 🤭🫣

oscarpiastri 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

oscarpiastri I dunno you tell me

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[eupheme]

Lazy morning bj with Wade x Reader x Logan drabble request?

ooooh yes, thank you so much anon! I’ve loved thinking about this!! 💖

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

550 words | soft morning, double oral sex & swallowing

You always liked the way it felt when both sets of their eyes were on you.

The heavy weight of it. Reverent, in the way it drags across your skin. Something reserved only for you.

It’s early - limbs still sleepy from a late night together. The sun just starting to streak in, golden where it stretches across the bed.

A careful shift, as you settle against spread thighs - straddling where they press together. Fingers already curled into the sheets, and you’ve only just begun.

Letting spit pool on your tongue. Letting it drip down onto Logan’s cock. Your hand wrapping into a fist, as your lips close around Wade’s. The sounds they make layer together - hissed groans and soft gasps.

Taking him deep, as you’ve learned to. The tight swallow of your throat, before you lift - letting your tongue sweep across velvet-soft skin.

Switching, a moment later. A slow back-and-forth, the bob of your head in tandem with the grip of your fist. Skin left spit-slick, as chests heave - breath growing short.

If you could fit them both in your mouth at the same time, you would. Content to let Wade run his, the rasp of his early-morning voice combined with the low sighs pulled from Logan.

How their hips start to tilt towards each other, leaving you less space to have to move. Fingers reaching to cup your head, angle your face.

The murmuring becomes more insistent. A low “feels so fucking good, goddamn HYLA GST Swarovski Edition got nothing on you, baby” - that ends on a choked moan.

Silencing the Mouth with the sweet suck of your own. His fingers twining with yours as your eyes flick up to watch.

Looking for the sharp pull of his brow. The bunching of his muscles in his belly, strung tight until he snaps with a loud moan.

Your victory floods your tongue.

Logan finishes after. Edging himself with a spit-slick fist. Brow furrowed as he watches you swallow - your tongue peeking out after, a little wink sent their way.

A rough sound when you move, nuzzling against his hip. The pace of his hand stuttering, when your tongue drags across his sack.

Coming against your lips with a groan, the second they close around him.

Won’t admit that he likes the anticipation. How messy you are, when he’s spilling second in your pussy, wet and tight and warm.

Knowing that you’ll taste like both of them, when he kisses you.

Warmth pools low in your belly, at the sounds he makes. The soft moan only the two of you get to hear. Drawn out and almost desperate, as he drives himself just a little deeper into your mouth.

Chasing the warmth, as you suck. The salt that seeps across your tongue - swallowing again. Fingers still wrapped around his base - holding his cock steady, as your tongue laps at the slit.

Getting every drop.

You like taking care of your boys.

It’s only fair, after all, with how thoroughly they ruined you the night between. That subtle twinge still lingering between slick thighs.

The way they soften now - boneless. Heaving chests and leaden limbs as you grin, pleased.

It’s only a brief reprieve, this snapshot in time. Because if you know one thing for sure…

It’s that your morning is only just beginning.

thanks so much for sending this in!! 💖

[writers-advocate]

clingy | l.h.

description: a brief overview of how logan’s love for your need to touch came to be [requested]

cw: none, mostly fluff

it’d taken some getting used to. it’s not everyday someone decides the best way to show their affection is by entwining themselves with you every chance they get. even less so someone decides to do so for logan.

you’re clingy, he’d realized quickly.

it started off small, as though you were afraid to scare him off. and who could blame you? he’s not the most outwardly affectionate man on the planet. but you knew him well enough to know limits, and a featherlight kiss to his bicep, his jaw, his cheek, eventually turned to a shower of kisses pressed to any free patch of bare skin (with the exception of his lips unless you wanted to be trapped for hours).

then came the hugs. fairly normal. one every time he left, one every time he came back. but somehow, he started finding himself late to those jobs or missions, delayed by the way you’ve got your arms wrapped around him, face tucked into his shirt as he’s settled on the edge of the bed. he’d just been packing hadn’t he…? when he comes home it’s worse. you’re practically in his clothes with him the moment he settles down but he doesn’t mind it. why would he mind his sweetheart pressed up against him like you wanted to crawl under his skin?

what had been hardest, for both of you, were the hands.

you’d known well enough, even before making it official, that he’s never seen them as something safe. he’s never quite trusted them. and while you understood, it broke your heart.

your fingers around his wrist. that’s as close as you begin. a touch so gentle, so trusted now by him, that he almost doesn’t notice. but a moment later, you feel the muscles and tendons tense a fraction, before he’s taking your hand in his gently… and curling it over his bicep instead, like you’ve done a million times. you simply lean your cheek against his arm and he grunts quietly as he glances down at you, as if to make sure he’s done no harm. you just smile.

you’re god damn persistent, he finds.

it gets to a point where he almost tries to scare you off. his energy running high from a particularly harrowing trip, claws out as he bares his teeth. not quite at you, but close enough. instead of arguing with him, your hands wrap around his carefully to bring it up closer. he’s tense. so tense you think he’ll spring away at any moment, but the feeling of your lips on the back of his hand has his claws retracting immediately, wild eyes now looking at you like you’re crazy. your gentle words pull him in. “you trust me, right?”

from then on, on his good nights, those less and less rare good nights, he’d wake up with his fingers curled over the back of your head. splayed across your back while you rest on his chest, extremities wrapped around him. his little backpack, he thinks, as you sigh contentedly against his skin.

logan knows it’s only a matter of time. he’d had to disentangle himself from all your limbs when he crawled out of bed. he knows the smell of breakfast and the lack of his body heat will lure you out from the sheets soon enough.

“logan.”

your sleepy yawn is very quickly followed by you snaking your arms around his waist and pulling yourself flush to his broad back. he hums low in his throat, mild amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.

and maybe, just maybe, he’s found, that he might be a little clingy too.

a/n: i wanna hold him so bad d:(

[kjupchurch-xx]

Euphoric

This contains SMUT.  I stirred in my sleep, the feel of the warm body beside me and visions of the night before filling my brain. The kisses, the feeling of him deep inside me, the sounds he made, how he worshiped every inch of my body. He was the most beautiful being in the world. He was the most loving, loyal, caring person you'd ever encounter. He was mine.

I opened my eyes, wiping the sleep from them to see him still sleeping soundly beside me. I watched him, smiling in disbelief that this beautiful human even existed. Hugh and I have been together for three months. We jumped the gun and moved in together early due to his never ending filming schedule and living across the country doesn't exactly help a relationship. The sex was everything you'd dream of. Hugh was the perfect mix of dominant and assertive, but he was also gentle and loving when he knew I needed it, or whenever he just wanted to show me how much he loved me. 

Shaking me out of my thoughts was the sound of his voice, "Mornin', love." He pulled me into his arms, both of us still naked from the night before. 

Snuggling into his bare chest, caressing every hair my fingers touched, I smiled, "Good morning, my love. How did you sleep?" 

His lips pressed soft kisses on my head, "I woke up next to the most beautiful gal in the world, I'd say I slept pretty great." I loved his sleepy, deep voice. I loved his accent.

I leaned up to see his beautiful hazel eyes meet mine, "I love you.", he gave me a smile and leaned in pressing his lips softly against mine, "I love you more, Bub."  Bub had jokingly become my nickname. When I'd first met Hugh, I was at a meet and greet for his new movie, The Wolverine. I went with my uncle, who was a massive X-Men fan that introduced me to the franchise as a young kid. I was still in my 20s, Hugh was in his 40s. While asking him for his autograph, posing for pictures and making small talk, he asked me for my number and began calling me every day. That went on for about one month before he asked to take me on a formal date, which brings us to where we are now. I'd stupidly confessed to him at the event that I had a thing for Logan, which prompted him to jokingly start referring to me as "Bub" from time to time. 

My hands began trickling down his chest towards his stomach, tracing circles over his hip bones and the prominent v-line. "What're you up to?" He asked me cheekily, a smirk appearing on his lips. 

I leaned down to his neck and began trailing kisses down the side, nibbling close to his earlobe, seductively whispering in his ear, "I need you." as my hand made its way down to his dick.

He playfully chuckled, "So you wanna play?" He asked, earning a nod from me as I rubbed the tip of his dick. 

"Mm, I like the sound of that. Let's play, love." He said, gripping my arm and flipping us, pinning my nude body beneath him. 

He looked down at me, his hazel eyes dripping with lust as he began slowly kissing my neck. I felt his hand go below and the sudden euphoric sensation of him massaging my clit. "Is this what you wanted, baby girl?" He asks, slowly inserting one finger inside me as his mouth made its way to my breasts. 

I whimpered as the feeling was too intense to allow me to process my words, "Oh no, baby girl. I want you to tell me what you want." he said sexily while beginning to suck on my other breast. I could not manage to form words as I felt him insert a second finger inside me, positioning his fingers towards my g-spot. "Look at me, baby. Tell me or I'll stop." He gritted through his teeth. 

Fuck. 

I cried out loud, unable to control my moans, "I want you deep inside me." I managed to say, feeling my body tremble under his touch. 

He began trailing kisses down my stomach, "That's my good girl. That's what I thought." He mumbled against my skin continuing his trail of kisses until his mouth made its way to my core. He lifted both of my legs, placing them on his shoulders as he buried his face in me, his tongue flicking my already sensitive clit. I was on the verge of an orgasm and we hadn't been going 5 minutes at this point. 

I gripped onto his hair as I felt my legs beginning to shake from the feeling of him pumping his long fingers deep inside me, while sucking, nibbling and licking my pussy. I felt my legs tighten around his head as my body began trembling, forcing me to call out his name as I rode my orgasm out, covering his mouth in my warm juices. He made his way back up to me and pulled me in for a deep kiss, allowing me to taste myself on his lips. He grabbed me, flipping us over, pulling me on top of him. 

I continued kissing him, allowing our tongues to fight for dominance as I nibbled and sucked on his bottom lip, straddling him. I lifted myself up, reaching behind me to position his hard cock at my entrance before sinking down onto him, adjusting to his size before allowing myself to move up and down. I could hear him moaning beneath me, gripping onto my breasts, caressing my hard nipples. 

"Oh fuck baby, keep goin'." He moaned under me as I picked up the pace, bouncing myself on him as if he were my favorite trampoline. 

I could feel him throbbing inside me as he reached up and sucked on my nipples, starting to thrust his hips upward to meet mine. Wanting to take control, I grabbed his wrists, pinning them above his head as I leaned down and started sucking and biting on his neck and collarbones whilst bouncing harder and faster, our moans growing louder.

I could feel the familiar euphoric feeling of my orgasm growing closer as I screamed out his name once more. I slowed my pace and began slowly grinding down on his dick, making him struggle underneath me to not fill me deep with his cum. We drove each other wild, but in the sexiest, most satisfying ways. He knew how to unlock desires in me that I never knew existed, while I did the same for him. 

"Cum for me, baby." I heard him moan, "Cum all over this cock." He said thrusting his hips harder upwards matching my bouncing. My orgasm overtook me, causing me to quiver on top of him as I let myself fall onto his chest. "I'm not finished with you yet, love." He said, placing a kiss on top of my head.

He gently moved me off of him and got behind me, "Come here." He motioned his fingers to me. I knew what was coming next. Doggy was always his favorite and certainly mine. I lifted up, positioning myself 'face down, ass up' on my hands and knees, grabbing a pillow to put under my stomach. 

I felt him run his fingers down my curves as he gripped my hips, positioning himself behind me, lining himself up to my entrance. He rubbed the tip along my entrance teasing me before inserting himself and sliding deep inside me causing me to cry out in pleasure, "Holy fuck." I moaned, while burying my face into the pillow resting at my head. 

He began by giving me long, slow strokes before thrusting deeper, faster and harder. I could feel his strokes becoming choppy as he was starting to reach his peak, so I began pushing myself backwards to match his thrusts. He used one hand to grip my hair as he kept one hand still on my hip and continued thrusting into me. 

"I want your cum, baby. Fill me up." I moaned, while using one of my hands to play with my clit as he pumped into me. "I want you to cum with me, daddy. Make me cum all over your big cock." I screamed in pleasure. Right as the words left my mouth, I heard him cry out loudly as I felt his warm liquid shoot through my insides causing me to orgasm for the third time. 

He collapsed beside me, pulling me into his arms. "You drive me absolutely bloody bonkers, you know that?" He said with a small giggle, pressing a kiss on my forehead, smiling down at me. 

I nodded, giggling, "You love it though." 

"You're certainly not wrong about that, love... I mean, Bub." He said smiling cheekily at me, "How about we take a shower and have a brekkie?" He asked, getting out of our bed to grab a pair of clean clothes from the closet. 

"Sounds good, baby."  I responded, getting out of our bed, following him into the closet for my own clean pair of clothes. 

[pastryfication]

sleepy airports | loscar

pairing: oscar piastri x reader x logan sargeant

note: i’m trying to get better at poly fics, so please bear with me xx

in the airport, the bustling terminal is filled with the hum of travelers and the distant announcements of flight statuses. the excitement of your vacation is buzzing in the air, a bright spot in the midst of the usual airport chaos. it’s been a while since the three of you took a break together, just you, and the anticipation makes you giddy.

the three of you arrived early, giving yourselves plenty of time to navigate the security lines and grab a bite to eat. now, with hours to spare before your flight, you’ve settled into a quiet corner near your gate. oscar has claimed one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and is lounging back with a book, while logan and you settle on either side of him.

you notice logan’s head nodding slightly as he tries to stay awake. he’s always been an early riser, and the wait is starting to take its toll. you feel the same way, your eyes growing heavy as you finally sit down in a quiet place. it doesn’t take long before you find yourself snuggling closer to your australian boyfriend, resting your head against his shoulder. his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing are comforting, and you feel yourself relaxing. as you close your eyes, you sense a gentle shift in the seating arrangement.

oscar glances up from his book and smiles. without saying a word, he moves to sit a bit more comfortably and gently wraps his arm around both you and logan. logan sighs contentedly and his head falls to rest on oscar’s shoulder as well. oscar’s eyes soften as he looks at the two of you, his free hand reaching up to lightly stroke your hair.

time seems to slow as you drift in and out of light sleep, lulled by the soft murmur of the airport and the comforting presence of your partners. it’s these small, quiet moments of togetherness that you cherish. the three of you are wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and love, a small, happy island in the middle of the bustling terminal.

when your flight is finally announced, oscar gently nudges you awake. you stretch and blink, feeling both refreshed and reluctant to leave the cozy nest you’ve created. logan stirs as well, his eyes slowly opening, and he smiles groggily at you. oscar gives a soft chuckle and stands up, offering you his hand.

“come on, sleepyheads,” he says. “time to board.”

as you all walk toward the gate, the excitement of the journey ahead replaces the initial grogginess. the flight is smooth, and the three of you settle into your seats. oscar sits by the window, giving you and logan the middle and aisle seats. you end up leaning against oscar’s shoulder again, while logan stretches out beside you.

you chat about your plans for the trip, the places you want to visit, and the food you’re excited to try. logan is the enthusiastic storyteller, recounting amusing anecdotes and trivia about your destination. oscar occasionally chuckles, his fingers lightly brushing yours as you share in the conversation.

the flight attendants come by with snacks and drinks, and you all take turns sharing bites and sips. it’s a small pleasure, but it feels special when done together. you look around at your partners—logan’s eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, oscar’s face relaxed and content—and feel a profound sense of gratitude fill you.

at some point during the flight, you drift off again. the gentle hum of the plane and the soft light filtering through the window provide a soothing backdrop. when you wake, the sun is dipping lower in the sky, casting a warm glow through the aeroplane. logan has shifted slightly, his arm now draped protectively around you, and oscar is still sitting patiently, letting you use him as a pillow. the two boys had been sharing a quiet moment, their heads close together above you in a comfortable silence.

as the plane begins its descent, you all share a look of excitement and anticipation. the vacation is just beginning, and you can’t wait to explore, laugh, and make memories together. the trip has already been filled with little moments of affection and togetherness, and you know that these moments will only continue to grow.