#i can't get over on how sweet her voice is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

noellez-best-life23 · 2 days ago

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“Someone named Logan,” Sam answers after a quick glance down at the paperwork in front of him. “Do you know him?” Ok so obviously I knew he was in this because the it says it but the way I giggling so school girlish when a crush is mentioned is not right so excited to be reading this now

A life with me isn't a life that you want for yourself. I wish you could see that I'm doing this because I care about you. I'll never be able to give you a fraction of what you deserve.” Ok but what is it with these hurt characters who won't let someone love them because they think we deserve better like let us love you

Ok so I love the whole part where they all meet Logan calling Bucky bub Bucky staring and the reader being the keep them on task and they way Bucky was like we go this way you go that way it has me giggling so much

“It's what HYDRA is using to conduct breeding experiments with the mutants,” Bucky answers in a strained voice. “And now we've all three been infected with it.” Uh oh oh no what could possibly happen 😉😉

Ok so the spicy smuty part after is so hot like why can't I just have both forever and Logan's sweet little talk about how Bucky loves her

“Bucky,” you attempt to interrupt him gently. He ignores it, needing to get this off of his chest before it eats him alive. Not me wanting to scream shut up Bucky and listen

“I did love Logan,” you cut him off. “I'll always care about him, and I'm thankful for what he and I had. Without it, I wouldn't have found you.”

“I do,” you grin at him. “I'm sorry it took me so long to see it. I was so scared of getting hurt again that I let it blind me.” You stroke your thumb over his cheek and he can't help but melt into your touch. He thinks he's fucking dreaming. What why am I tearing up

Ok I loved this it was so good with they spicy and that fluffy ending of the reader and Bucky this was amazing

no one does it better

bucky barnes x reader, past logan howlett x reader

bucky barnes x reader x logan howlett {SEX POLLEN}

word count: 8.8k

summary: sent on a mission with the man you never intended to fall for, you run into someone from your past who your heart has never been able to fully let go of.

a/n: couldn't decide who i wanted to write my next one-shot for so i thought, why not both? these men are both my weakness and this trope is my weakness so this was bound to happen at some point. also big shout-out to @embbarnes for her encouragement with this and assuring me that it isn't complete trash 🫶🏻💕

warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, smut, sex pollen therefore dubcon, fuck or die situation, mmf threesome, unprotected p in v, oral (m&f receiving), definitely some angst, love triangle elements, mainly reader's pov but there's some pov switches for bucky and logan too, dirty talk, reader is afab, no use of y/n, multiple orgasms, hints of praise kink and overstimulation, reader has telekinetic abilities but i don't focus on that much

my masterlist

The shrill, repetitive beeping of an alarm clock startles you awake and causes you to bolt upright in the bed you'd fallen asleep in.

Not your bed, you realize as you clutch Bucky's satin sheets to your naked chest. You'd accidentally passed out in his room after your time together last night.

“Shit,” you breathe as you glance over to the digital display of the alarm clock on the bedside table, next to where Bucky begins to stir from his sleep. It's seven thirty in the morning, and you're going to be late for a meeting on an upcoming mission if you don't get back to your room and get ready ASAP.

“I'm so sorry,” you mumble as he hits the snooze button of the outdated alarm with the side of his metal hand. “I didn't mean to fall asleep.”

You withdraw from the covers, throwing your legs over the side of the mattress as you start to reach down to gather your clothes that are flung precariously on the floor next to you, when you feel his flesh hand wrap around your forearm.

You glance back at him to find him smirking up at you, sleep still written across his face.

It shouldn't be possible for anyone to look so beautiful first thing in the morning, you think.

He pulls you back down to him by your arm, only letting go when your face is close enough for him to seal his lips around yours. He kisses you slowly, lazily - not at all like the hurried, heated mess of tongue and teeth from last night.

“I'm not sorry. You're really cute when you snore, actually,” he murmurs when he pulls away.

You roll your eyes, proceeding to pick your clothes up from his floor. “I do not snore,” you retort in mock defense. You yank yesterday's tank top over your head before standing to tug on your underwear and sweatpants. “But we are both going to be late for this meeting if we don't get our asses out of bed.”

You turn to face him, your eyes raking over his still relaxed position against his pillow. He sits up, a look that you can't quite place on his face - something between dejection and disappointment. Whatever it is, you know you're the reason for it.

“It's not a big deal, you know,” he starts lightly with a small smile. You quirk an eyebrow at him. “That you slept in my bed,” he clarifies. “You technically live in this building, so I don't think we crossed any imaginary line.”

You huff a laugh under your breath, a sinking feeling in your gut at the direction that you feel this conversation is headed.

You wouldn't admit it to him because of said imaginary lines, but you enjoyed sleeping next to Bucky. He's warm, and his presence is comforting, even to your subconscious. You slept the most peacefully that you have in months last night. Normally, you toss and turn and wake up multiple times throughout the night. But after falling asleep pressed up against him, you didn't wake a single time until his alarm started blaring and you opened your eyes to the early morning sunlight streaming through the cracks in his curtains.

But you and him both know what this is, and what this isn't. And as badly as such a large part of you wants to have more than this with him, you don't know if you're ready to put your heart on the line again.

“Get dressed, Barnes,” you say as you rip his comforter away from his body with the snap of your fingers, leaving him fully exposed. The sight makes you want to crawl back into the bed with him, but you force yourself to walk towards his door, ignoring the incredulous look on his face. “I'm not going to be the one to blame when Sam bitches that we're late.”

••••••

Bucky is trying his hardest to pay attention to the case details that Sam is rambling on about, he really is.

But it's hard when his brain keeps going back to the fact that you fell asleep in his fucking bed and stayed with him the entire night. Your naked body pressed against his, your familiar scent of lavender and honey invading his senses throughout the night anytime you'd stir beside him.

When he woke up around two o'clock and realized that you had never made your way back to your own bedroom down the hall, he knew that he should wake you up and let you know that you'd fallen asleep. He knew that's what you would have wanted. But as he laid beside you, listening to the even and peaceful pattern of your breathing, he couldn't bring himself to disturb you - and selfishly, just didn't want you to leave.

You had been clear from the start - your arrangement was to be sex only. And Bucky had been fine with that, truly. He had been in agreement with you. He needed to focus on adjusting to life as a pardoned man post blip, and you needed to focus on healing from - well, he wasn't sure of the exact details. He didn't want to press you too much, but he knew that you had essentially started your life over shortly before he met you.

As happy as it made him to wake up with you beside him this morning, he rationally knew that you wouldn't let it happen again.

And that thought bothers him more than it probably should.

“We've been in communication with Charles Xavier, founder of the X-Men.” Sam’s voice draws Bucky’s attention back to the situation at hand. You sit directly across the table from him, his gaze flicking to you at the mention of your former mentor's name. Your face remains neutral, but he doesn't miss the way your posture tenses. “Upwards of a dozen mutants in their early twenties have gone missing. They have reason to believe that they are being held at a warehouse outside of Lake Placid.”

“That's horrible,” you say with a shake of your head. “So where do Bucky and I come into this?” You sound almost nervous, Bucky thinks.

“The warehouse they are being held at is a former HYDRA base,” Sam explains with a glance at Bucky. “A warehouse that was specifically used for breeding experiments back in the fifties and sixties. The X-Men would like our help with this, seeing as how we not only have someone familiar with HYDRA, but someone who has worked with their team in the past, too.”

You give a slight, curt nod. Bucky knows that you're too much of a team player to argue, but he can read you like an open book - he can tell that you have reservations about this, though he doesn't fully know why.

He has his reservations, too. As if the thought of going into a potentially active HYDRA base isn't enough to put him on edge, knowing that the two of you were going to be working with your former team that you had left years ago only adds to his apprehension.

“What's the plan, exactly?” Bucky speaks up, forcing himself to look away from you and back to Sam.

“First things first, we need to figure out precisely what we are dealing with. We need confirmation that this is in fact where the mutants are being held, and exactly how many there are. The two of you will go to the warehouse for re-con, and one of Xavier's men will be meeting you there. Once we know–”

“Who?” You interrupt, sitting up straight in your chair. “Did he say who will be joining us?”

“Someone named Logan,” Sam answers after a quick glance down at the paperwork in front of him. “Do you know him?”

You go silent, pursing your lips. Bucky and Sam both look at you expectantly as you seem to space out. Sam calls your name in question.

“Uh, yeah,” you answer, your voice an octave higher than usual. “I do - I did,” you correct quickly. “I knew him.”

Bucky's eyes narrow at your out of character response. Normally, you're witty and quick off the mark. Right now, you seem taken off guard - and kind of look like you might throw up.

Sam seems to notice your reaction, but doesn't question you any further. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and passes identical folders to both you and Bucky.

Bucky notices the slightest shake of your hand as you grab it off of the table.

“Here's all the information you should need for now,” Sam says. “You guys head out at noon.”

You stand up from your chair and speed walk towards the door without another word, flinging the door open without a flick of your fingers.

Sam gives Bucky a look that says “fuck if I know” before Bucky dashes out of the briefing room after you.

“Hey!” He calls, catching up to you in several long strides. He grabs you by the wrist, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“Do you want some breakfast? I'm going to order Postmates.” You say before he can get a word out. He glances from your panic-stricken eyes down to the clammy skin of your wrist.

“Postmates?” He asks, appalled that you're asking him about breakfast right now. “What? No. I'm - are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” you raise your eyebrows with a forced looking grin. “A bit peckish, but I'm fin–”

He rolls his eyes at your stubbornness.

“Who’s Logan?” He feels you tense beneath his grasp on your hand.

“He's an X-Man,” you say with a tight shrug before pulling your hand away from his and continuing back down the hallway.

Bucky really doesn't want to pry, or force you to talk about something that is obviously a touchy subject, but he's worried. The both of you are going to have to work with the guy in a matter of hours, after all.

“Yeah, Sam just told us that much,” he continues as he walks quickly to keep up with you. “But what's the deal? I take it you don't like the guy or–?”

You're the one that comes to a halt this time.

“Logan is a good man, and I have no doubt that he'll do everything he can to help these mutants that we're looking for. That's all that matters, okay?” You say in a tone that indicates the end of the discussion.

Bucky doesn’t push the topic any further, satisfied enough with your answer despite the voice in the back of his mind that is screaming that there's more to the story than your brief explanation.

“Now, do you want a breakfast burrito or not?”

••••••

It's actually pretty pathetic that nearly three years of healing can go down the drain with a simple mention of his name.

You knew that you still cared for him. You knew that part of you always would, no matter how much time and space was between you.

But when Sam mentioned his name in that briefing room, you felt as though no time had passed at all. You were right back in your bedroom at the X-Men's headquarters, packing up your belongings to leave behind the only life that you had ever truly known.

And it wasn't because you wanted to. You didn't want to at all, really. But you'd put your heart on the line for someone who wouldn't take it, one too many times. You had accepted that you had no future there. At least not the one that you so desperately craved.

A future with Logan.

“A life with me isn't a life that you want for yourself. I wish you could see that I'm doing this because I care about you. I'll never be able to give you a fraction of what you deserve.”

You remember how he wouldn't even look you in the eye as he broke the last piece of your heart with his words. Just stared at the empty shot glass on the table in front of him.

“You're giving up your last chance to even try.”

The last words you'd said to him play on repeat in your head the entire drive to Lake Placid.

You know that Bucky can tell that something is bothering you - and by extension, you can tell that something is bothering him. He hasn't once mentioned the mission at hand or attempted to turn on the radio, instead opting to drive in a heavy, loaded silence for the first hour of the car ride to the warehouse.

You glance at his side profile from the corner of your eye. His jaw is set tightly and his face otherwise expressionless, but you've known him long enough to know what he's thinking.

“We were together,” you blurt out quickly. He turns his head to look over at you in the passenger seat, his face not revealing his thoughts. “Logan and I. We were together.”

“It's okay. You don't owe me an explanation,” he replies in a stiff voice, his gaze turning back to the road in front of you. You notice his grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“I know I don't. But you still deserve one,” you continue as you begin to inadvertently pick at your cuticles. “If the situation were reversed, and we were about to walk into this with someone that you'd been with intimately in the past, I would appreciate knowing that beforehand.”

This seems to alleviate some of the tension that he's carrying. His grip on the steering wheel slackens, and he looks back over at you with a small smile.

“Well, thank you for telling me.”

“I'm sorry that I didn't let you know when you asked about him earlier,” you continue. “I was just.. taken off guard. It's been a long time since I've seen him, or even talked about him.”

“How long were you two together?”

You weren't surprised by the question, but you still found yourself unsure of how to answer. You knew the true answer would likely lead to follow up questions - follow up questions that would sting to answer out loud.

But over the course of the months that you've been sleeping with Bucky, you've fallen for him. You didn't mean to, and you didn't want to admit it to yourself at first, but it had been a while since you had been able to deny that fact to yourself. No matter how seeing Logan again after all these years goes, it won't change your feelings for Bucky. You don't know what the future looks like for you and Bucky, but you know you owe him honesty and transparency.

“Well,” you start. “We were never really officially.. together. But we were.. involved for a year when I broke things off.” You hope that he can read between the lines of your poor excuse of an explanation.

“Oh,” he answers shortly. You can't tell if your answer made him feel better or worse about the situation. “And why did you break things off?”

You look down at your hands in your lap as you clear your throat. “We wanted different things,” you shrug. “I wanted something more serious and he felt he wasn't capable of giving that to me.”

“Wasn't capable?”

“He had his reasons,” you sigh. “I know he cared for me, he could just never.. get out of his own head long enough to allow himself happiness. I don't hold it against him. It's been years, and I've made peace with it.”

“Were you…?” He trails off, his eyes flickering between you and the road that he turns onto. According to the GPS, the warehouse is just a few miles away now.

“In love with him?” You finish for him. He looks at you expectantly.

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. “I was.”

••••••

The words I don't know why I signed up for this shit keep playing on an endless loop in Logan's brain.

Every time, the words are followed by the image of your face.

He swears he's a fucking idiot. He doesn't even know if you'll be here. The Avengers have how many members at this point, anyway? What are the odds that you'll be here, out of all of them?

And even if you do happen to be here? Then what? It's been three years since he willingly let you walk out of his life. You've made a new life for yourself, found a new job and a family with them.

He didn't think this through, and he knows that. All he can do now is remind himself to focus on the mission, and worry about the rest later.

He can't allow himself to think what if he sees you again. Not when you always deserved better, and certainly do now that he's let so much time pass without even reaching out.

There's two things he's absolutely certain about, however. One, this warehouse reeks of sewage and mothballs.

Two, it's fucking empty.

He had arrived before the Avenger’s members that he is supposed to be meeting and immediately knew that something was off. His heightened senses detected no fresh human or mutant scents, or any kind of sounds emanating from the building.

He slipped through a back stairwell door to confirm his suspicions.

Completely deserted.

“Fuckin' hell,” Logan groans to himself as he storms down a hallway, shoving every door he comes to open to make sure that HYDRA left behind no bodies.

He finds no one, dead or alive, which is both concerning and comforting. He has no idea how, but HYDRA clearly got tipped off that they were onto them and emptied the place out at a moment's notice.

He turns around the corner at the end of the long hallway, going to search for any indication of where they could possibly be transporting the mutants to next, when a voice that he hasn’t heard in years and a whiff of lavender and honey stops him in his tracks.

••••••

“We had to have just missed them. They can't possibly be too far from here. We need to find Lo–”

You come to an abrupt halt when he rounds the corner just a few feet ahead of you. Bucky stops beside you, letting you take the lead.

“Logan,” you breathe. He hasn't aged a day - he looks exactly as he did the last time that you saw him, though that comes as no surprise.

His eyes pause on the small Avengers emblem on the breast pocket of your tactical suit before trailing his gaze up to yours.

Though it feels surreal to be standing in front of him after all this time, the gravity of the situation and the fact that Bucky's arm grazes against yours from beside you helps ground you.

“It's good to see you,” he greets you with a murmur of your name. “I wish it could be under different circumstances.”

Your only response is a stiff nod as you awkwardly clear your throat and turn to the man beside you, whose harsh stare has yet to leave Logan.

“This is my partner, Bucky,” you introduce them, gesturing between the two. “Bucky, this is Logan.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you, bub,” Logan grunts after a pregnant pause. You don't miss the way Bucky's eyes narrow at him at the nickname.

“He always stare this much?” Logan asks when Bucky offers nothing in response other than a curt nod. An almost sadistic smile begins to spread across Bucky's face at Logan's remark, causing you to grab his bicep in a firm hold right as he opens his mouth to respond.

“Let’s stay focused, yeah?” You glance back and forth between the two of them. The entire situation is nerve racking enough, the last thing you need is the two of them at each other's throats. “We need to do a sweep of each level to see if there's any kind of evidence as to exactly what they’re doing and where they could be headed next.”

“Great idea,” Bucky speaks up as he puts his hand on your lower back and angles you away from Logan. “You and I will check out the east wing,” he says to you, moving you in the opposite direction by applying pressure to your back as he begins to walk away.

“And you can check out the basement,” he calls to Logan over his shoulder.

You think you hear Logan chuckle under his breath as he begins to walk towards a stairwell. Luckily, without any argument.

“Subtle,” you mumble as Bucky steers you around a corner and then drops his hold on your back. “Was that really necessary?”

“I didn’t like the way he called me bub.”

“He calls everyone bub,” you snort.

“Does he call you bub?”

“Well, no–”

“Exactly.”

You throw your hands up in surrender, not wanting this to turn into an actual argument. You and Bucky work in silence as you clear the east wing of the warehouse, checking each room for any signs of what has happened and where HYDRA could be heading with the mutants next.

You find over half a dozen small rooms with hospital style beds, each rigged with hand and ankle cuffs. Almost all of them have blood stained sheets, and you have to fight off the nausea that begins to grow in your stomach at the sights and smells.

After clearing all of the makeshift bedrooms, the two of you come to a set of large, metal double doors at the end of the hallway. There's glass paneling on each one, but they're so caked in dust and grime that it's impossible to peer through them.

“Stand back,” Bucky instructs you gently. “I'll go in first.” You take a step back, allowing him to press his frame against one of the doors. It opens with a shrill creak, revealing a large room full of surgical tables, monitors, and shelves overfilled with various vials and bottles of unknown substances.

Bucky enters the room, holding the door open for you to follow him inside.

“We should take pictures of all of this,” you start, glancing around at all of the packed shelves. Bucky lets go of the door, looking around the room with you. “I don't know what any of this shit–”

You're cut off by the sound of the metal door slamming to a harsh close behind the two of you, immediately followed by dozens of glass vials shattering against the cement floor when a wooden shelf collapses.

It all happens so fast that you don't even have time to think about using your powers to stop it.

You both jump back, distancing yourselves from the thick plumes of red and black smoke that erupt from the pile of shattered glass. The room is quickly filled with a thick stench of something akin to vinegar. You burst into a coughing fit as Bucky tugs you away from the wreckage, shielding your face to the best of his ability with his metal arm.

“That can't be fucking good,” you manage to get out in between coughs. The billows of smoke continue to grow higher, effectively blocking you and Bucky from the doorway. To get out of the room, you'd have to walk right through it.

“Maybe it'll dissipate in a sec–”

You're cut off by a sharp stabbing pain that starts in your lower belly and radiates all the way through your diaphragm and pelvis.

“Fuck!” you yelp out, clutching at your stomach. Bucky immediately lunges towards you, preventing you from completely crumpling over.

“What is it?” He asks, panic evident in his voice. “Hey, look at me, what's going–”

He can’t get the rest of his question out before he's letting out a sharp hiss, his hands moving to clutch his own stomach. “Oh, fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth.

“What was that?” You cry. Your legs suddenly feel like jelly, and before you can grab onto one of the surgical tables for support, you're falling to your knees on the hard cement floor.

Before Bucky can manage any kind of response, your head is snapping towards the entryway to the room that's concealed by the cloud of smoke. You can hear Logan calling your name from down the hallway.

“Logan!” You yell back just as another jolt of pain hits your gut. “Don't! Don't come in here!”

But just as the warning leaves your lips, Logan is slamming the double doors open and walking directly into the chemical cloud.

“Goddammit, what the hell?” He yells as he begins viciously coughing. Bucky falls to the floor next to you, his face distorted in pain.

It's as you're looking at his face - his plush pink lips and perfectly chiseled jawline - that your heart rate begins to skyrocket.

Logan emerges from the dark burgundy cloud, looking completely bewildered as he takes in the state of you and Bucky on the floor. His gaze settles on you in concern.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“The shelf fell,” you grunt out, looking over to the smoke that's now beginning to dissipate. “A bunch of vials shattered. Whatever was in them–”

You can't finish the sentence before you're overtaken by discomfort in your groin. You look down at the zipper of your tactical suit, trying to make any sense of what is happening. It feels as if you’ve pissed yourself - your underwear is suddenly uncomfortably sticky and wet.

“What was in those vials?” Logan demands. You look up, frantically glancing between him and Bucky. Logan stumbles backwards, clutching his stomach with one hand as he leans against a surgical table for support.

“It's what HYDRA is using to conduct breeding experiments with the mutants,” Bucky answers in a strained voice. “And now we've all three been infected with it.”

••••••

Logan thinks that for the first time in two hundred years, he could actually fucking die. His lungs feel like they are collapsing within the cavity of his chest and liquid fire courses through his veins. He looks at you, doubled over in pain on the ground as Bucky crouches next to you and rubs circles on your lower back in a futile attempt to comfort you.

Logan has never considered himself to be a jealous man, but the mere sight of him touching you through your tactical suit makes his blood boil even hotter than it already was. He knows that if you had shown up here alone and the two of you found yourselves in this position, Logan would already have you bent over this table with his cock buried up to your stomach.

It's eating him alive - the drug, yes, but also the thought that you could possibly feel for Bucky what you once felt for him.

He knows he has no right to feel this way. Not when he had every opportunity to prevent you from walking away from him, and didn't take any of them. Not when you'd still be with the X-Men today, if you hadn't felt like your only chance at moving on from him was by leaving.

He knows all of this. But the drug in his system is making him really fucking irrational and possessive over someone who clearly doesn't belong to him anymore.

Doesn't belong to him and never did, he reminds himself. He has himself to thank for that.

“She's your girl, is she not?” Logan spits out through gritted teeth. “Don't let me stop you.”

He has to get out of here. He has to get somewhere far the fuck away from you before he -

“Logan, don't be ridiculous,” you groan from where you're crouched on the ground. “We are miles away from civilization. This will kill you before you can even–”

Your voice alone is enough to make his cock feel like it's going to explode.

“Kill me?” He chuckles. “You've clearly forgotten a lot about me, sweetheart.”

He turns to leave the room when Bucky's voice brings him to a halt.

“She's right. They're experimenting on mutants, you don't think they've taken regenerative powers into consideration? This shit has been reformulated to kill anyone with a beating heart.”

“What are you suggesting, huh?” Logan demands at Bucky. He doesn't know if what he is saying is true or not - he just knows that the room feels over a hundred degrees every time he looks at you and that it's a miracle he hasn't sliced this Bucky's guy's neck to get you alone yet. “If that's true, there's only one way out of this. For all of us. Something tells me you won't be okay with that.”

If the way that Bucky glared at him when they first met didn't tell him enough, the pheromones that practically radiated off of him certainly did. He may not know the intimate details of your and Bucky's relationship, but one thing is plain as day - the man is in love with you, and Logan can't blame him for it.

Bucky forces himself up into a standing position, you still slumped on the floor by his feet. He takes a step toward Logan, allowing Logan to see the sweat that drips down his forehead and his dilated pupils.

“Okay with it?” Bucky chuckles grimly. “Of course I'm not okay with it. The thought of you touching her makes me want to choke the life out of you myself, but the thought of you dying and causing her even more pain? I'm even less okay with that.”

“No one is dying,” you exclaim from beneath them, looking up at both of them with bloodshot eyes. “We're going to do what it takes to make it through this. Okay? All of us.”

••••••

There wasn't enough time to overthink it. If there was, this wouldn't be happening.

You were acting on pure instincts - instincts that were screaming at you to keep them both, and yourself, alive.

There's a tiny, faint voice in the back of your mind that reminds you of all of the potential consequences of this - of what the aftermath of this will be like. But then there's a louder, more dominating voice that overpowers it, telling you to give into this drug and save yourself, save Logan, save Bucky.

Bucky hauls you up to your feet, pulling you off the cement flooring by the tops of your arms.

“You sure about this?” He asks lowly, walking you backwards until the backs of your thighs come in contact with a surgical table. It amazes you - how he's somehow able to still be so considerate of you when this drug is ravaging his body, too.

You look back and forth between him and Logan, both of them doing their best to conceal the considerable pain that they're in.

You suddenly find it hard to care about how fucked of a situation that you're in. Not when all you want is to feel them, touch them, taste them both.

Logan walks over to the two of you in two long strides. You perch on the ledge of the surgical table, Bucky and Logan standing side by side in front of you, trapping you between them and the bed. Their scents are overwhelming - Bucky's piney aftershave and Logan's faint musk of old tobacco.

“Order me away,” Logan murmurs breathlessly. “Tell me to leave right now, and I will, even if it kills me.”

“No,” you practically bark at Logan, tugging him down by the tactical vest until his face is just inches from yours. “I am sure about this,” you implore. You drop your hold on his vest, bringing your hand to the zipper at the top of your own tactical suit and ripping it downwards, exposing your stomach and your lace clad breasts. You push the stretchy material away from your shoulders and down your arms, leaving yourself exposed from the waist up with the exception of your bra.

In any other scenario, you would have felt insecure about being so exposed in front of the both of them. But right now, with the drug spurring you on and the way that both of their eyes rake over your figure, it's an empowering high.

“Lay down,” Bucky instructs you gently, restraint in his voice. “Gotta get you out of this suit so we can take care of you.”

You don't hesitate to do as he asks, scooting backwards onto thin foam padding of the surgical table and laying down on your back. Bucky follows your lead, caging you to the bed with his metal arm as he hovers above you on the poor excuse of a mattress. He rips the thin lace material of your bralette away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. You hiss, arching into the sensation.

Logan stands at the end of the bed, making quick work of shedding you of your boots before shimmying your tactical suit and your panties the rest of the way down your body. He groans at the sight of your exposed, wet cunt.

Bucky pulls away and you whimper at the loss of contact. He grins up at you, and then looks down at where Logan is now kneeling at the bottom of the table. He splays his large hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart.

“Go for it,” Bucky encourages him. “It's only fair. I had her just last night, after all.”

The possessive edge to his voice with the not so subtle reminder of who gets to fuck you now sends a fresh wave of arousal through you, making your pussy clench.

Logan growls at his words - there's no better word for the sound. Deep, dark and guttural, he growls before lowering his mouth to your wet heat.

There's an instantaneous relief wash over you as his tongue licks a thick strip from your hole and up to your clit. He moans into you as you lock your thighs around either side of his head, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

You pull Bucky down to you, crushing your lips against his. He brings his flesh hand to your exposed breast again, palming and pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

You feel drunk off of the way that both of their tongues explore you - Bucky's mingling with your own and Logan's lapping at your pussy. You snake your hands between your and Bucky's bodies, cupping his evident bulge in your palm through his tactical pants. He thrusts his hips into your touch, but you know it’s not enough to provide him any kind of relief. Your fingers fumble with the buttons and zipper of his pants until you’re able to free his cock. You stroke him in one hand, smearing the pre-cum around his tip up and down his length. His forehead rests against yours as his eyes roll back into his head.

With your other hand, you reach down to where Logan is nestled between your thighs and lace your fingers between the tufts of his hair. It’s all so strangely familiar - the feeling of Bucky twitching in your palm and Logan’s lips locked around your clit.

Despite the time that's passed since the last time he's touched you, Logan still knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows you're close when you start bucking your hips against his mouth, chasing your release with the friction. He brings a calloused finger to the base of your cunt, circling the tip of it in the excess of your juices before slipping it into you with ease. He quickly adds a second, dragging the digits along the velvet walls of your cunt. Bucky captures your lips in his once more as you pump him rapidly in your hand and you feel the coil in your belly heat and tighten when he slips his tongue inside your mouth.

You cum with a cry that gets lost in Bucky's mouth, Logan working you through your orgasm with his tongue and fingers until you've stopped writhing against his face.

“She makes the prettiest sounds when she's fucked out of her mind, doesn't she?” Logan slurs as he sits up on his knees and begins to unbutton his pants. His lips and beard glisten with your slick.

“Tell me about it,” Bucky agrees, pulling himself out of your hand. He helps you into a sitting position and then cups your jawline in both of his face, forcing you to look up at him.

“Which one of us do you want first, huh?”

Drunk off of their words in your post-orgasm haze, all you can do is shake your head. You know either one of them would fill you up just right, alleviating the still present ache in your gut.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Logan purrs as he yanks his pants and boxers down to his knees with one hand and pumps his length in the other. “Gotta tell us what you want. You're the one calling the shots here.”

It's the way that they're both looking at you like they'd do anything you asked of them that gives you the courage to take control of the situation.

“Come up here,” you instruct Logan. Bucky hops off of the bed, giving you space to maneuver yourself onto your hands and knees. Logan crawls around you, until his cock is directly in front of your face.

Bucky takes it upon himself to take Logan's prior position at the base of the bed, stroking himself in his hand as he lines himself up at your entrance. He teases your hole for a moment, unable to hold back any longer as he sinks his length into you. You gasp at the fullness of it, instantly rocking back against him as he digs both his metal and flesh fingers into the meat of your hips.

Logan fists his cock, the tip glistening just inches in front of your mouth. You stick out your tongue, licking up the beads of pre-cum that drip down the head. He curses under his breath, nudging your lips apart with the tip. His eyes flutter closed as you take him in your mouth, inch by inch until he hits the back of your throat. Behind you, Bucky works up to a brutal pace that has you moaning around Logan's cock in your mouth.

“You look so pretty like this,” Logan praises from above you as he cradles your head in his hands, keeping you right where he wants you. “Always been so pretty. You know that?”

You bob your head along his length, bringing one hand to massage the base of his shaft.

It's all overwhelming - the angle that Bucky is hitting your cervix over and over again, and the lack of oxygen from Logan completely filling your mouth and throat.

“So fucking tight, too,” Bucky coos as he loops his arm around your midsection, bringing his flesh fingers to rub your clit. Logan begins to piston his hips back and forth, making you gag each time he rams against the back of your throat. The lack of air has your cheeks stained with a steady stream of tears. “Taking both of us so well. Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

His words send you over the edge, a second orgasm washing over you. You pull yourself off of Logan’s dick, all but going limp on the shitty foam mattress beneath you as Bucky spills into you from behind. Logan keeps a firm grasp on your shoulders, helping to keep you upright as you come down for your climax.

As you try to regulate your breathing, you’re overcome with relief at knowing that Bucky’s going to be okay - and relief at the absence of searing pain in your own gut when Bucky pulls out of you. Relief that is short-lived when you look up to see that Logan’s face is still contorted in pain.

“Lay down,” you instruct him breathlessly. “I’ll take care of you.”

Instead of doing as you ask, he pulls you up to him by the tops of your arms and melds his lips to yours. It hits you that although his cock was just down your throat, this is the first time that the two of you have kissed in years. He tastes exactly as you remember - there’s always an underlying hint of sweet tobacco and bourbon.

Despite the urgency of the situation, he takes his time kissing you. He’s almost hesitant at first, sweeping his tongue along your bottom lip as if asking for permission before slipping it inside your mouth. You're vaguely aware of the sound of the metal doors creaking open and then clicking closed in the background.

It's over as quickly as it begins. When he pulls away, he's looking down at you, the pain that he's in no longer visibly displayed on his features. As if your kiss alone was a balm.

“I had to do that, just once. Just one more time.”

And with that he maneuvers himself so that he's laying flat against the surgical table, pulling you across him so that your thighs straddle either side of his hips. You glance around the room, realizing that Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

You can't say that you blame him - with the drugs dissipating from his system now that he's had his release, of course he wouldn't want to stick around for what's to come.

What did you expect him to do, stand to the sidelines and watch? Still, a wave of panic washes over you at not knowing where he's at - physically or mentally.

“I'll make this quick, sweetheart,” Logan murmurs from beneath you, noticing your distraction. “This will all be over soon.”

This draws your attention back to him, and panic is replaced with guilt - guilt that he still has these chemicals making every fiber of his being undoubtedly feel like he's on fire, while you now feel okay.

“Don't worry about me,” you tell him, cradling his jaw in the palm of your hand from above him. You lean forward on your knees, using your other hand to align his erection with your entrance. You sink yourself onto him in one swift motion, gasping at the stretch of his girth. “Just focus on yourself,” you whisper through the burn.

You give yourself a brief moment to adjust to the angle before rocking forward, pulling out almost completely before sinking back down. His facial features visibly relax at your movements, your walls fluttering around his length and alleviating all of his discomfort.

“That's it,” he encourages as you pick up your pace. “Just like that.” His large hands come to grip your hips, helping to move you up and down. He thrusts up, meeting each of your movements with his own. “Feel just as perfect as you always have.”

You can tell he's close when the movements of his hips grow sloppy and his breathing becomes erratic. One, two, three more harsh thrusts and he's spilling into you - his brows furrowed together and his teeth dug into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood if it weren't for the fact that the indentations heal as quickly as they appear.

You let out an audible sigh of relief as you pull yourself off of him, a mixture of both his and Bucky's cum leaking down your inner thighs.

You're okay. Logan's okay. Bucky's okay. Okay being a relative term, of course. But you were all three going to live.

You sit on the edge of the table as Logan stands up and tucks himself back into his pants. He grabs your underwear and tactical suit from where they'd been discarded on the floor and hands them to you.

“You okay?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah,” you answer as you slide your panties up your thighs. He looks away, wanting to give you the privacy to dress yourself now that you're no longer under the influence of the drugs. “Yeah, I think so. Are you?”

“Feeling a lot better than I was just five minutes ago.”

The two of you fall into a heavy silence as you proceed to put on your clothing and boots. Logan pulls out a cigar and a lighter from one of the interior pockets of his vest and lights it up. You can't help but laugh under your breath - some things never change.

“Listen,” Logan starts as he exhales a puff of a smoke. “I know this wasn't anyone's fault and we all did what we had to do, but I'm sorry if this causes any issues between you and your boyfriend.”

“You don't need to be sorry,” you assure him. “And he's not my boyfriend,” you add in a smaller voice.

“Could have fooled me,” Logan huffs with another inhale of his cigar. “Practically smelled it on him the second that I saw the two of you together.”

“Smelled it on him?”

Logan takes a step closer to you, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Sweetheart, that man loves you. A blind man could see it.”

A lump forms in your throat as you take in his words. Could they be true? Could Bucky really love you? You weren't naive enough to think that he feels nothing for you - you've always known that he cares for you.

Maybe, just maybe it's possible - possible that you have spent so much time and effort keeping your walls up that you were blind to the fact that he could be in love with you.

“Look, I'm not trying to overstep here,” Logan continues when you don't respond. “I just want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for you. Just don't make the same mistakes that I did, yeah? If you love the guy, tell him.”

You jump down from the edge of the table, coming to stand directly in front of Logan. Sincerity flickers in his hazel eyes - hazel eyes that you used to be in love with and will always have love for.

But it's different now. You know it, and he does too.

You raise up on the tips of your toes and plant a small kiss near the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you, Logan,” you murmur. “Take care of yourself.”

••••••

The two hour long car ride back to the compound feels eternal despite the fact that Bucky drives a steady fifteen miles an hour over the speed limit the entire time.

After you ran out of the warehouse looking for him, Bucky was quick to make sure that you were okay. After being assured that you were physically fine, he wasted no time in ushering you back to the vehicle and getting the fuck out of Lake Placid.

He knew that you and him would have to have a conversation. He knew that you were itching to bring it up - could tell that you were nervous by the way that you dug your nails into the palm of your hands and repeatedly cracked your knuckles throughout the drive back home.

But he wasn't ready to hear it. He wasn't ready to hear how seeing Logan after all of this time brought up so many feelings that you thought were buried. He wasn't ready to hear how kissing him again made you realize that you couldn't kiss him anymore.

He wasn't ready to accept the fact that the last time he got to fuck you, he had to share you with the man that you'd undoubtedly be going back to.

So when he sees you part your lips to speak from his peripheral vision, he pretends he doesn't notice and quickly turns up the volume to the radio, blaring some shitty early 2000's pop song that sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him.

Anything sounds better than the words that he dreads coming from your mouth.

As soon as the two of you arrive back to the compound, you're both whisked in different directions for medical exams and separate debriefings on what happened during the mission.

By the time he's finished getting the third degree from Sam, and has given a blood sample so that the research team can study the drug that the three of you had been exposed to, he's ready to sleep for a solid twenty-four hours.

But he knows he won't be able to fall asleep with the ten pound brick that sits in the pit of his stomach at the thought of how the next conversation between you and him is bound to go.

He's walking back to his room, practically dragging his feet, when he walks by your door - it's slightly ajar, and light creeps into the otherwise dark hallway from the opening. He pauses to listen, hearing only the soft shuffle of your slippers on your rug and the low volume of your TV, undoubtedly playing one of your comfort shows.

He takes a deep breath before giving a soft knock to your bedroom door. He hears your footsteps approach the door, his heart sinking to his stomach before you can even open it.

“Bucky,” you breathe. He relaxes the slightest bit at the fact that you sound relieved to see him. “Come in,” you tell him as you open the door wider for him.

He enters the familiar, comforting space of your bedroom. You've lit several tea light candles throughout the small space, and he sees that his assumption about your comfort show playing is correct.

“I was going to come check on you in a little bit,” you tell him as you sit down next to him. “Are you okay?” You ask him gently.

He gulps, not knowing where to begin.

“I'm alright, all things considered,” he offers with a forced smile. “Listen,” he continues, suddenly unable to hold your gaze. His eyes flitter around your room, as if he's trying to memorize all of the little details. “I know you're probably exhausted, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for what happened today. I'm sure that it was harder on you than it was on either of us. I know you loved him, and I get it if you still do and don't want to continue this now. I wouldn't blame you if you went back–”

“Bucky,” you attempt to interrupt him gently. He ignores it, needing to get this off of his chest before it eats him alive.

“--back to him. But I just need you to know that this doesn't change anything for me. We did what we had to do for us all to make it out of that alive, but I don't want anything to change between you and I. I hope we can.. go back to normal.”

He finally looks back to you once he finishes rambling.

“I don't want things to go back to normal for us.”

He assumed that's what was coming, but it doesn't make it sting any less. He clears his throat, and starts to push himself off of your bed when you grab his hand.

“I don't want things to go back to normal for us because I'm in love with you, Bucky.”

You close the small amount of space between the two of you, cupping his head in your hands and pulling his face to yours. You slate your lips over his and before he can even process what you've said, he's wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you onto his lap.

Because I'm in love with you, Bucky replays on repeat in his head as he kisses you until you're breathless above him.

“You love me? But - Logan - what about–” He stutters out as he stares up at you.

“I did love Logan,” you cut him off. “I'll always care about him, and I'm thankful for what he and I had. Without it, I wouldn't have found you.”

“You love me,” he states in disbelief.

You love him. It sounds too good to be true. But he knows you too well enough to know that you wouldn't say it if you didn't mean it.

He can see it in your eyes, just how true it is.

“I love you,” he breathes before bringing his lips to yours once more. He kisses you like it's the first time he ever has - takes his time exploring your mouth with his, he nips and sucks on the swell of your bottom lip with his teeth.

You break the kiss, a playful smile blooming on your face.

“I was about to hop in the shower when you knocked. Would you want to take one with me?”

He can't help but return the smile. “You're inviting me to shower with you? Next thing I know you're going to be falling asleep in my bed on purpose.”

You snap your fingers, and Bucky hears the water from your shower begin to beat down on the floor of the tub.

“Oh, you're sleeping in my bed tonight, if that wasn't obvious.”

DISCLAIMER i promise i love logan howlett with my whole heart!!! ❤️ i don't normally write angst so i wanted to try something a bit out of my comfort zone. it's been a little while since i've written for bucky so that motivated me to gear this story more towards him, but there's plenty of happy logan pieces on my masterlist 🫶🏻💕

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koolades-world · 18 hours ago

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have three really great ideas but this one was brainrotting me more so you get this one first. may or may not be inspired by myself and the amount of birthmarks i have personally (i do actually have all the birthmarks listed!) if you guys want a part two for solomon's birthmarks and mc doting on him, let me know. i could make that happen!

i can't explain it but i kept thinking of that one solomon and his wives post written by my beloved mutal alba while writing this. not sure why, but i'm giving credit where it is due. please go check her out!!!

this can read a little suggestive so read with caution! however, i think it's very very cute!! <3

birthmarks

"Hey, Mc." Solomon looked up from the book he was reading. You were seated not too far from him, sitting cross-legged on the ground surrounded by papers you were organizing.

"What's up?" You didn't look up from what you were doing.

"Have you ever heard of any old wives tales behind birthmarks?" He asked.

"Well, that was out of the blue." When you paused, he continued to look at you expectantly. "Yes, I've heard a couple. The first one I thought of were they were how you died in a past life." You let out a snort of laughter at the expression that crossed the sorcerer's face.

"That's not the one I was thinking of." He shook his head.

"Then, you must've been thinking of the one where they're where you've been kissed in a past life. If the death one was the case, I would've had some brutal deaths." You recalled the simple, yet romantic myth where every birthmark was a kiss left by a lover of your past. You much preferred that outlook, even if it wasn't real.

"That's the one. Now, I'm curious..." He trialed off, giving you his best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

"You could've just asked in a normal way. You're my partner. Asmo must be rubbing off on you." You got up, and joined him on the sofa.

"No, Asmo would've just asked you to get naked." The two of you giggled together at the idea. In his defense, he was right.

"Do you have any birthmarks?" You wondered how he'd thought to ask something like that in the first place.

"Maybe you'll get to see later, if you're lucky." Solomon winked at you.

"Solomon!" You smacked his arm, to which he pulled you into a hug back.

"Maybe you can help me find each and every one..." He voiced died as the words left his mouth. He ran a thumb over the birthmark on your cheek, his touch gentle. You could tell he'd already moved on from that idea despite how enthralled he'd seemed with it a second ago. "This a cute spot to have one."

You had many birthmarks, but the one on your cheek was the one most easily visible. "Thanks. I must've gotten lots of cheek kisses." You remarked. "Is this the one that got you thinking?" You put a hand over his, which was still on your face.

"You read my mind." You studied his face of oddly deep concentration. While he was looking at you, he didn't even realize he wasn't meeting your gaze. Instead, he seemed to be memorizing your features.

"Compared to the others, this one is small." This comment seemed to snap him out of his stupor.

"Where are the rest?" His hand stayed on your cheek, but seemed ready to move to the next area at any point.

"I've got a fair amount on my arms and hands. There's one on the base knuckle of my right index finger, and another just underneath the first knuckle of my left ring finger." He took both of your hands in his, moving to study them next.

"You were well loved." He threaded your fingers together. "They were sweet to you, and married you." You began to grow shy once you realized the implications of the birthmark on your ring finger, and a little upset with yourself for not realizing that sooner.

"I'd never thought of that." You cleared your throat, and pushed past the mild embarrassment. "I also have one on my left forearm, and one on both of the backs of my shoulders." He let go of your right hand to run his fingers up your arm and to your back, but held steadfast onto your left hand. He remained silent, his lips a thin line.

"I have one over my heart, and one in the center of my chest." You pressed a finger over the center of your chest where you knew the mark was. Solomon's frigid hands settled over your heart. You hoped he couldn't feel how it was racing under his touch.

"Is that all of them?" He finally met your eyes. They were filled with a tenderness you could only place as fondness.

"No, I have a couple more." You took his free hand, and guided it down to where the remaining two were. You knew he'd do it anyways. "I've got one here." You placed his hand on your hip. After steeling your nerves, you guided his hand lower down to your inner thigh. "And one here."

"You were well loved." He repeated. You'd expected some sort of snide comment about the placement of the last one, but that didn't even seem to be on his mind. You stared at him, trying to figure out what thoughts were running through his head. You left his hand on your leg, and stroked his face like he'd done for you moments ago.

"Solomon, are you jealous?" The corners of his lips twitched at your comment.

"What if I am?" He sighed. He held your left hand close to his body, and cuddled you close to him.

"Did you ever consider that maybe it was you?" You whispered.

"Me?" Solomon sounded surprised.

"I think it was you. If you don't believe that the way I do, you can replace them. That way, I have double the kisses from you, and you know for sure your lips were the last to touch me." You could tell your words were getting through to him by the way his zeroed in on yours.

Instead of responding, he lifted your left hand to his lips, and kissed your left ring finger, and ghost of a smile on his face. "Then, I have work to do, don't I?"

#gn reader #drabble #obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #omswd #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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transformersandturtles · 2 days ago

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Couldn't find any of this SO I WROTE MY OWN FOR A ONE SHOT‼️ I will write more but I thought this would be good for now‼️ I'm really sorry if this seems out of character for either of them, I've never written anything for them before. 🥲

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CW - Swearing, reference to explicit content, possible spelling errors (non reviewed)

Word Count - 2,017 words (10,995 characters)

𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝑮𝒐 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈!

"Wade, is there anything you need from the store?" The gruff voice of Logan Howlett grumbled from the kitchen table, reading glasses resting on his nose as he held a small notepad and pen. He'd asked Al earlier if she needed anything, that wasn't illegal substances he had no way of getting his hands on, so now it was just a matter of asking his partner, who had just gotten back from walking Mary Puppins. He tapped the closed pen on the wooden surface, peering over the ridge of the glasses Laura made him wear. Who knew it was easier to read with glasses? He'd have to get something to thank her next time she came by.

"Oh! You're going shopping! Ooh, let's see!" Wade had quite the grin on his expression, taking off the harness and leash from the ever loving Dogpool, who he totally didn't get the owner of murdered so he could take her, and he picked her up, letting her lick his face as she was coddled like a baby in his arms. "We need more dog food," he spoke as he waltzed over to Logan, his hood falling down as he did so, "and more milk. Maybe some more eggs, and a pack of XL-" before he could finish, he felt something sharp poke at his throat.

"All that's on the list, except that last one. YOU can get that on your own time." The old Canadian scoffed a bit, not exactly in the mood to entertain Wade's thoughts. But he couldn't hold back a small grin when the other Canadian whined at the threat.

"Whaaaaaat? But Honey Badger, I can't go alone. They'd look at me weird." He protested, trying to be dramatic all for the sake of being dramatic.

"Uh huh, sure bub. . ." Logan put his claws away, grabbing the napkin off the table by his empty plate to wipe the blood away as the spot between his knuckles healed quickly. "So, there's milk, eggs, toilet paper, new beddings, steak, vegetables, beer. . ." He mumbled, setting the notepad down to write a few more things that came to mind. Wade set down Mary Puppins and he leaned over Logan's shoulder to figure out what other things were added. Toothpaste, mouthwash. . .

"Oh absolutely not." Wade reached for the pen to scratch out the body spray. "No way in HELL are you gonna buy Axe. Are you TRYING to smell like a skunk? Your musk is enough to make a room full of E-Sports players sick!"

". . . The fuck is E-Sports?" Logan wasn't sure if he should be insulted, confused, or both. But he wasn't too happy about the comment either way. "Also what the fuck is wrong with Axe? It's cheap and smells fine." He scoffed a bit. "I'm not trying to spend over $100 to smell good." He took off the metal framed glasses and placed them on the collar of his T-shirt under the teal-blue flannel.

"And I'm not saying you need to spend $100 to smell good, I for one think you smell amazing. Gets the body goin'. . ." Wade gave a cheeky grin with a chuckle, looking Logan up and down for a moment before looking back at the list. "But Axe is the worst one to use. If you want something to smell decent for work, I'd recommend Old Spice at the very least. Sure, the smell names are weird as fuck, but that comes with all male hygiene products. Women get all the sweet and nice sounding scents like peach vanilla or sunset cinnamon. . . Meanwhile we get stuff like Pine Jizz or Whales Fucking or-"

"Shut the fuck up, Wade. . . . Just shut up. . ." Logan let out a groan of annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. Wade had a grin on his face, laughing a little at how Logan told him to stop talking.

"I'm just saying, Peanut, if you get Axe then you're sleeping on the couch or out in the hallway." Wade warned, before leaning in to kiss Logan on the cheek. "I'll go get ready." He hummed, and left to the bedroom to change out of his sweatpants and hoodie.

"Yeah, yeah. . ." Logan mumbled in annoyance, putting his hand to his cheek to hide the light blush across his face. He huffed and stood up, stretching as his joints popped and cracked, from his lower back to his legs and neck. He popped his jaw a bit, before going to the coat rack to grab his brown leather jacket he got for a fairly good price last week. It was nice, not too tight but not too lose, and had some decent pockets. Perfect for carrying booze. . . Or other stuff he didn't want to pay for, maybe. He was THE Wolverine, and taxes were too expensive sometimes. Who was gonna throw him in jail if he shoplifted? No one, that's who. He adjusted the collar of the leather jacket, getting it how he wanted before stopping when he heard the bedroom door open. He looked at Wade, and stared at him almost dumbfounded. "You are NOT going out like that. . ."

"Why not, Peanut? You always like it when I dress this way." Wade teased, he wasn't serious about wearing the outfit in public, but he wanted a good reaction out of Logan. Besides, the outfit was pretty comfortable but no way in hell was he having enough confidence to show off his unicorn crop top and short-shorts. He didn't mind wearing it when he was having his great days; where he was overly confident and eager to show off his body despite the scarring. But today wasn't one of those days, especially since it was getting cooler as Autumn was coming in after what felt like eons of Summer. Wade did notice how Logan's complexion had turned a few shades of a deep red while looking, which also made Wade's cheeks turn a soft pink.

"Alright, alright, hurry up then. . ." Logan sighed softly, not even making a comment or retort to what was said because Wade was right. Logan crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Wade but was surprised when the bedroom door closed again and he frowned. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he upset Wade? The mutant stood quietly but worriedly, his nose twitching a bit as he sniffed the air, trying to figure out if Wade was upset or not. It was hard to tell, so he stepped closer to the door. There didn't seem to be any low serotonin levels, they seemed about as normal as they could be for Wade. His nose continued twitching as he kept sniffing past the door, still trying to figure out if he upset his boyfriend or not, his ears twitching a little as well as he listened carefully. Before he could figure it out past the smell of everything else on the other side of the door, he was met once again with the face of Wade who seemed surprised at how close Logan was to the door. But that surprise soon turned to playful, mischievous grin.

"Aww, was someone worried about me?" He teased, wrapping an arm around Logan and leaning in to rub his nose against Logan's cheek. The gruff man scoffed with a growl, not out of hostility but annoyance, as he bit Wade's cheek with his big canines.

"Like hell I'd worry about you, dumbass. . ." Logan grumbled, moving away from Wade but didn't move too far so they could at least hold hands. "Let's go. . ." He sighed heavily, taking Wade's hand and going to the door to get their shoes on as Logan grabbed the keys to the apartment and put them in the pocket of his leather jacket with the notepad.

At the store, Logan had to keep holding Wade's hand so the younger wouldn't run off, who knows what that undiagnosed dork would go find and beg to have. Logan had his glasses back on as he looked down at the list in his hand. He had a specific order to get everything in, and if he had to deviate from that plan he might just lose it. Wade was very aware of his boyfriend's thoughts and methods, and honestly he didn't mind holding hands and walking with Logan, though he did stop a few times to look at something that caught his attention.

"We really gotta get you an appointment. . ." Logan mumbled as he gently tugged Wade along so they could keep shopping to get everything on the list. He headed over to the produce section, his hazel eyes gazing over the different fruits and veggies, letting go of Wade's hand for just a moment so he could find the perfect vegetables to cook for dinner. He'd started learning how to cook lately and had a nice dinner planned, so he made sure that the ingredients would be edible and not rotten inside or anything of the sort. He grabbed some potatoes, a few peppers, and for something sweet as a snack for later he grabbed some apples, a grapefruit, and a cantaloupe though it was slowly coming out of season and probably wouldn't taste as good as it does in the summer but he didn't care. He goes to check the ingredients off the list and turns to hold Wade's hand again, only to find the other Canadian had vanished. "Great. . ." Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before grabbing the shopping cart and continued with his shopping, knowing he'd find Wade eventually, tracking his scent wasn't that difficult due to the constantly dying and regenerating cells, along with the citrus-pine smell he had. His ears and nose twitched every so often as he leaned his elbows against the cart to push it, walking around and glancing around as he got cheese, milk, eggs, and some other things in the aisle, a gruff and raspy hum vibrating in his chest as he tapped his sharp nails against the metal bar of the cart while listening to the music playing through the store. It was crappy compared to what he liked, some hit pop song the youth enjoyed, but damnit was it catchy in the kind of way that it was really annoying but kinda good. He whistled a little, getting everything on the shopping list and went to the aisle full of booze before an announcement rang over the store's system.

"Logan Howlett, please come to the front. Your child is waiting." A bored teen girl sounded over, the tone of her voice a mix of boredom, with a hint that screamed she did not get paid enough to watch over someone or help. Logan raised a brow at this, confused. Laura wasn't here, was she? But then it clicked, and he groaned slightly with some annoyance. He grabbed two packs of the good beer and headed to the front, finding Wade near a desk who seemed happy and relieved once Logan arrived.

"Honey Badger! I was so worried you left without me!" Wade nearly tackled the older man the moment he could, and Logan grunted, a bit startled.

"You're the one who ran off, idiot. . ." Logan scoffed, glaring at Wade before looking down at the soft thing between them. "Wade. . . What the hell is that?" He frowned. Wade looked down, and a big grin was plastered on his face.

"Pompompurin! He'd be great to sit with Hello Kitty and Cinnamoroll!" He beamed, excited even as he held the large dog plush. Logan wanted to say no, to make him put it back, because who knows how much money that thing cost, but the longer he saw those big eyes, Logan eventually let out a groan of defeat.

"Fine. . . But you're payin' for it, bub. . ." Logan patted Wade on the shoulder, before taking him and the cart to the self checkout aisle so he could scan everything himself. Logan didn't like strangers touching stuff sometimes.

"Fine by me!" Wade grinned, watching Logan scan everything and he snorted a bit, amused by his odd yet loving boyfriend.

#seven’s nonsense #seven's drabbles #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadclaws #poolverine fanfiction #deadpool #wolverine #logan howlett wolverine #wade wilson deadpool #dogpool mention #xmen #deadpool 3 #d&w #Deadpool & Wolverine #deadclaws fanfiction

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hyperdramas · 1 day ago

Text

for one last time | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: non-idol au, fluff, boyfriend!seokmin, tiny mention of jealous!seokmin, mentions of sports (wii sports), reader is lost, kissing, small mention of physical touch, bits of shamless flirting (on seokmin's end), pet names (reader w baby, seokmin w honey, babe), lyr projects her love for wii games on reader, seokmin throws something at reader (a baseball cap as a teasing gesture), they're cute & in love your honor

now playing: for one last time, cheyander

"You swing your arm back and forth like this, babe. That's how you hit the ball." Seokmin's behind you, breath hitting your ear as he puts one hand on your waist and the other on your right arm, performing the swinging motion. Your cheeks are warm from the touch, and Seokmin notices this, a smile on his face as he pulls away.

Your boyfriend was a sports fanatic—he loved lots of sports, and were good at a lot of them too. The first game he had bought for the Wii you two shared was Wii Sports, and he had the joy (at least, that's what he said) of teaching you how to play the game.

You loved Wii games, but disliked sports—you didn't see the hype around them, and you never understood the rules anyways. Seokmin was just so excited to show you how to swing for tennis and serve for volleyball using the Wii remotes, though.

How could you say no to a sweet smile like the one your boyfriend had?

"Seokmin, baby, I really don't think I'm made for this." You look at him, and he adjusts his baseball cap, shaking his head as the watch on his wrist shuffles with his movements.

"We're just gonna give it sometime, okay? Let's try baseball again, okay?" Seokmin looks over to you, voice soft as he exits the tennis portion of the game.

"You'll crush me! You're so good at baseball, Minnie, it's not even a competition with you." You mumble, and Seokmin laughs, kissing your cheek as he shakes his head. "I'll go easy on you, I promise. I want you to get the hang of it first."

As he continues to find the baseball setting, you watch your boyfriend from behind, studying his broad frame and muscled shoulders and arms he's gotten by pitching baseballs and serving volleyballs, no doubt.

As Seokmin worked to recallibrate your controller, you studied his nearly perfect batting form, watching the slope of his nose, bite of his bottom lip, and twinkle of his eye as he focused on the instruction on screen.

"Alright, I think I've got it. Come on, honey, let's try again." Seokmin hands you your remote, and you sigh, shuffling to get in place as you spread out from him.

"Why can't we just play Mariokart and call it a day?" You question, and Seokmin looks over to you, eyes puppy-like as he juts out his lower lip.

"Let's just try one more time, okay? Just one more time." Seokmin begs like a little child, and you can't say no, especially when he's looking at you with wide, sparkly eyes.

"......Fine. One more time." You finally give in, spreading your legs out as you get ready to bat. "I love you." Seokmin looks over to you, nose scrunched up as his eyes disappear into pretty crecsents.

Shaking your head, you brace for Seokmin's pitch, giving it your best shot as you swing your arm like he told you. Your ball flies into the sky, an announcement of a home run adorning the screen as you scream and jump for joy. Seokmin runs to you, obviously happy for you as he picks you up in his arms and spins you around.

Once he places you down, with your hands still on his shoulders and his still on your waist, he takes the Wii remote from you, eyes now half lidded as he smirks at you.

Unable to look at him seriously, you laugh, eyes lighting up as you take in Seokmin's now devious expression. It's obvious that he wants something from you, but you can't blame him, as you also want what he's thinking about.

"I think I deserve a home run kiss." You whisper, bringing your hand to the brim of his baseball cap as you take it off, revealing his messy, dark brown hair.

"I was just about to give it to you." Seokmin says, voice soft yet deep as he searches your eyes.

Your run your hands through his hair, letting the bangs fall in front of his eyes perfectly as he starts to lean in, eyes closing as his lips touch yours. His lips feel perfect against yours, and your hands go from Seokmin's shoulders to sliding down his strong back, and making their way back into his curly hair.

The baseball cap in your hands is long gone, on the floor as your hands go back to Seokmin's broad shoulders yet again. He smiles under you, over the moon at your kisses as he pulls away, breathless.

"I knew you could do it. You just needed a little bit of practice." Seokmin smiles softly, and you sway with him, hands in his as you stare into his eyes.

"I think it's because your Mii character is so cute." You tease lightly, and Seokmin glares at you, picking up his baseball cap and throwing it at you as you squeal, laughing.

"I'm just kidding, Seokmin. No Mii could ever take me from you." You sigh, and Seokmin beams, handing you your controller as he asks: "For one last time?"

feedback & reblogs are greatly appreciated! i love reading your throughts :>

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spiderman2-99 · 2 days ago

Note

✨:guilty-Gabriella

[5.20.2022, TRN-1042]

Gabriella had been… unusually sullen in the car ride after school today. Today was PTA meeting day, and one of the discussions was about some C’s in certain classes. The teacher told Miguel how he could help, that otherwise his daughter was a treat to have in class, etc etc., sometimes kids just struggle with some subjects. Miguel understood just fine, promised that he'd help, reassured that it was just a monetary setback, all that.

But Gabriella had been sulking in the passenger’s seat the whole ride home. At best, she’d give monosyllabic answers to Miguel if he asked anything— a far cry from the usual ball of energy he'd come to know and love over the last couple months.

She curls up a little in the seat, her forehead leaning on the glass of the window, arms crossed. She looks… disappointed in herself. Or apprehensive, maybe? Miguel won’t claim to be emotionally intelligent, as much as he tried to be for Gabriella’s sake. He never had to be until Gabiella. Shock. He still has so much to learn. Too much to learn.

He swallows thickly before finally breaking the heavy silence that descended upon the car ride.

“Gabi,” he begins, his voice gentle yet firm, "something's clearly bothering you. You've been silent since we left school. Is everything okay?"

Well. That was a lame start that, as expected, didn't get an answer beyond a half-hearted shrug. Dios en el cielo. He really doesn't want to pull teeth.

"Is it... about the C’s in your report card?"

The last sentence makes her wince slightly. So that was a yes.

(Miguel can't stop the awful thought of what if the other Miguel yelled at her about grades? He has to physically shake his head slightly to clear it.)

She shifts a moment in her seat. “I know, I’ll study harder…” she murmurs like she’s preparing herself for the gallows.

Miguel lets out a sigh through his nose. He isn't entirely an idiot, he figures it's more than just the report card— or maybe something so pressing that it's causing the slip. The problem is trying to get to it delicately; which is much more difficult than it should be for him. Being... soft, gentle, paternal just doesn't come naturally for him. He never had that sort of role model, and now he's flying blind in a life he stole, at any moment about to ruin it, and the sweet little girl that came with it-

Okay, no, no. Breathe. Get your head on straight, O'Hara. You're better than that.

“It’s not just about the grades, is it?” he urges. “There’s something else bothering you, and I want to know what it is."

He risks a sidelong glance. She has to know he's serious. "I’m here to listen, Gabi. I promise."

“I dunno… it’s kinda dumb, but…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Miguel can see Gabriella sit up straight, hesitating, trying to collect her thoughts. He won’t rush her.

“You’ve been forgetting a lot lately. Like… remember when I told you about Emily’s birthday? I’ve been friends with her forever, but you had to use a GPS to find her house. And sometimes I’ll tell you about something we did a year ago, and I can tell you’re trying to act like you remember but you don’t. And when we visited Abuela, you acted weird around her, like you didn't know her at all.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. His daughter, his beautiful, wonderful, smart daughter, noticed the discrepancies between him and the man he’d replaced; the gaps in his cover. It was only a matter of time before she put the pieces together.

"You've been forgetting events for school, and getting lost in our own city, and when tío Gabriel visited, you couldn't even keep up with the conversation he was making 'cause he was bringing up things you didn't remember..."

Then, Gabriella turns to him and gives him a look with those big, watery hazel eyes that makes him want to throw himself off a cliff. “Did you get hurt at work, Papa?”

...

Well. Maybe a little more time.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his fingers clenching the steering wheel tighter. "No, sweetheart, I didn't hurt myself at work," he reassures, but the lie tastes bitter on his tongue. "It's just..."

“Something complicated again?” She interjects, going back to looking out the window.

Miguel grumbles in frustration. He should’ve realized his daughter would be just as much of a smart-ass as him. "Yes, mija, it's something complicated. But I promise, I'm handling it."

'Complicated' is an understatement. It’s a whole paradox, a breach in reality, a cosmic crime against nature. He hates not being honest with her, but how the hell is he supposed to say ‘your real father is dead and I replaced him’?

God, he's a coward.

Miguel would give everything, anything, to make sure she’s okay through all of this. But the more time passed, the more he knew he didn’t deserve to be her father. He isn't her papa. He could never be.

"It’s nothing you need to worry about, okay?” he continues through the lump in his throat. “It’s something... something only adults have to deal with.”

"Everyone always says that; it's always something 'only adults deal about'," she retorts, glowering at her father. "It's affecting me too, but anytime I ask—"

"I can't tell you, okay?" he snaps, his voice strained; the tension rising between them as foreboding as storm clouds in the horizon. He has to take a deep breath before he continues, forcing a calmness in his voice. "I can't. Please, you have to trust me. It’s- it's for your own good, mija."

"And that's another thing they tell me; it's aaaalways 'for my own good'-"

"Gabi..."

"-but how can I trust you when you don't trust me, huh?"

"Gabi."

"When you're acting all weird and not telling me anything anymore and-"

"Gabriella Angela O'Hara."

She winces and shrinks back into her seat. Christ in Heaven, this is going all wrong, and it feels like all Miguel can do is watch it happen.

"You think I don’t want to tell you?" He continues, grinding his jaw to keep the rising anger out of his voice. The last thing she needs is his anger. He can't act like George O'Hara. "You think I want to keep you in the dark? Do you think I like hiding things from you? I’m doing this to protect you, because..."

Miguel's words trail off. He can’t say ‘because I’m not your real father.’

Baffled, hurt, she presses on. "Because what? You- you think I'm too stupid or something? I can't handle it?"

Christ, isn't that a wonderful, ice cold jolt to his already frayed nerves? "No! No, it's not that! You're not stupid, you're the most brilliant, amazing child I've ever met."

He swallows hard. The lump in his throat feels like a brick.

"It’s not that I think you can’t handle it, it's that you're still just a kid! And you shouldn't have to handle it!"

Gabi lets out a long groan, slumping her head against the headrest, but seems to drop the subject.

Momentarily.

Long enough to lull Miguel into a false sense of security. Long enough for him to pull in their driveway before he hears--

"Still get to feel it all go to shit though," grumbled under her breath; only audible due to Miguel's enhanced hearing.

He kills the engine and just... sits there a moment; the silence thick and oppressive, thoroughly killing any semblance of energy he had left. The language suddenly doesn't even feel worth reprimanding.

Slowly, he turns to look at her. His daughter. His sweet, beautiful, brilliant baby girl. The only thing left in the world that is truly good.

I'm ruining her.

Then again, he ruined her the second he inserted himself into a life that wasn't his. He should've known this charade would blow up in his face. God knows he can never have anything nice without having to fight for it; tearing into it with his teeth and shocking it all up from his own desperation.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, pained.

"Gabi," he begins, his tone heavy with a mix of guilt and frustration. "I... I'm doing the best I can. I'm trying."

She doesn't even look at him. "Not trying good enough."

Shocking hell. Out of all the things she could inherit from her father, did it have to be his bull-headedness and the ability to cut where it hurts? It's bad enough on him, but when it's someone else? When it's the truth?

He has to fight the urge to snap back, to say something he’ll regret, to prove his own inadequacy correct. Instead, he closes his eyes and takes a breath in an attempt to collect himself.

Operating word being 'attempt'.

Bile still leaks into Miguel's voice as he grates out, "Get out and go to your room."

"What-" So now she decides to spare me a glance.

"Get out," he repeats, low and deliberate, "and go to your room. I don't- I can't be with you right now."

The pause that follows as his words sink in isn't just pregnant; it's straight-up post-due with a necrotic placenta and a calcified fetus.

The words are already out; no taking back even if he felt they deserved to be. Gabriella's expression morphs from horrified to disgusted to a sort of passive anger.

Finally, the silence is broken by the sound of her seatbelt clicking. Then, "fine. I don't wanna be with you either," followed by the car door slamming.

There's no parting barb, no further vitriol thrown at him. Maybe there should've been; there'd at least be some sort of outlet for Miguel to let out his metric shitton of pent-up frustration and sheer, utter rage. They'd both deserve it then.

But there is nothing.

Just a broken, run-down, irreparably shocked up man trying to pretend to be a father; the role fitting him as good as if he'd skinned his alternate's face and wore it on top of his own. Why did he bother? Gabriella doesn't deserve her life being ruined by a genetic abomination from another world deluding himself to be something capable of loving.

He slumps his head against the steering wheel and screams.

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elitesheepi · 11 hours ago

Text

Something something Ember Island Something something Changing Emotions

Katara coming to a horrifying realization. A terrible, no good, realization that only could've happened on Ember Island.

Zuko is attractive. A shocking realization, she knows.

Of course he is. That's just an objective fact, she reasons to herself. Even back in Ba Sing Se, she always knew he wasn't a bad looking guy. Bit of a temper, and nostrils flared to much for her taste but... He was a little handsome.

Now that things are okay between them, Katara can't help but look at him. Really look at him, and all she sees is a kind guy, who is very attractive. And that's just ruins her whole day because it's not fair. She supposed to be preparing for the comet, not oogling one of her closest friends.

He's not making it any easier on her. Does he really have to firebend with his shirt off? She doesn't waterbend in just her sarashi! ...Okay she does, but that's different.

Still, she asks him as much. Sweat is still dripping down his neck and chin. Whatever else evaporated from his heated body. She can feel his blood pumping through his body, the exertion in the pink dusting on his cheeks. Or maybe that's a normal blush cause she did just ask why does he need to be shirtless. Showing off his muscular build, toned arms and--ugh! Does he have to look at her with that puppykit look in his eye? Now he's just being unfair!

"It helps," Zuko explains like it's nothing, "It's like a grounding technique I guess. Feeling the flow of energy through your body as you bend fire. Besides, you bend in your sarashi sometimes, what's the difference?"

'It's totally different!' Katara wants to claim as she hands him a towel. She's not...him. And she'll say that as much when her own face is burning with a blush. Katara decides to leave it be for now, and heal up the small burns he did get from Aang's fire on his hands. Because she's just that mature and yes it is completely necessary to hold both his hands as she heals him. His firm, rough hands from handling his dao... It's more than a little unfair that his hands are bigger than her's too.

It's also unfair how he tucks her hair behind her ear and says "Are you okay? You're kinda warm." In that low voice only meant for her to hear. Her heart stutters in chest. He's just looking at her with a little bit of worrh, why the stupid butterflies in her stomach? And why does she not want him to move his hand away from her? Well, she knows why, but she doesn't wanna say it. Or maybe she does, but he's going to have to make it up to her somehow.

"I-"

"Hey Katara, check it out! I'm finally getting the hang of my fire bending stances!" It's like a cold splash of water over a fire. Katara shakes her head, plastering on that gentle smile. Aang is excitedly waving for her attention across the court yard.

She catches Zuko's golden eyes before turning to the Avatar, "Good job Aang! You're really improving!" She thinks anyways. Zuko kinda snatches her attention each and every time during their sessions. "I'm going to get some fruit juice inside. You want one?"

"Yes please!" Aang wants to go with her, she can sorta tell in the way his eyes keep looking between her and Zuko. He doesn't get two steps before Toph is dragging him with her now. "You had your time with Zuko, now it's time for some real fun." Katara can be concerned about the giant crash later. Another crash of rock. Waaaaayyyyy later.

She spares a glance over her shoulder, and takes a little pride in how he jumps. "Well? Shall we?"

"We shall?" He responds, confused.

"Did you think I wasn't to get a fruit juice for you too? Besides you said I was too warm so..." She slides her arm in to his. And if she stands a lot closer to him than necessary, than fine. She beams up at him with a pleasantly, sweet smile, "Let's go get some."

Now it's his turn to blush. Good, let him be flustered and dumb over a pretty person. It's his turn anyways.

#Zutara #Katara #Zuko #atla #oh to be a girl with a crush #and the horrifying realization that your best guy friend is actually kinda cute #it's so funny Katara gets a crush on jet and she's all soft and sweet about it #i write her with a crush on Zuko and she's mad #both feel in character tbh

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levisbitterness · 3 days ago

Text

﹐ becoming , adoptive parents ﹒　　 ׅ 　ㅤlevi ackerman

- it wasn't like levi to stroll around town at the crack of dawn but somehow, you convinced him to. right now he would be cooped up in his office cleaning even the slightest bit of "dust" off of his new leather chair.

- the sun is barely up, levi's eyes are still barely open. maybe some breakfast and a cup of tea would do him some good. but when you offer up the idea to him he declines.

"mm. . .not now, not hungry." he insists, a yawn escaping him. tired, would be an understatement knowing how hard erwin works your poor husband. you should really have a tough word with the man, professionally, of course.

- you both don't even know where you're going but, it's just a small walk. passing by houses and stepping down stone stairs you nearly stumble over something, surprise turning into mild irritation. why weren't you looking where you were going?

- a barrel, you think. or maybe it was a tiny box you almost tripped over. no, a kid.

levi's eyes pass down to his feet, his glossy sight focusing on a beaten down kid. quickly, he steps back, horror and shock baffling the ackerman. "holy fuck. . ." he can't stop the vulgar words that escape him.

- levi isn't the only one who's surprised, you are too. you thought this would just be an innocent, light walk with your sleepy husband. but now you both are met with an abandoned kid.

- for some reason, your first instinct is to reach your hand out to them. unsure if the frail child is even a boy or a girl. their hair is a mess, matted up and wet. their clothes are ripped and dirty as can be, rats scurry off from their feet when you try to make contact with them.

"hey, kid. . .i didn't mean to almost trip over you like that i—are. . .you alright?" you ask but they don't respond, facial expression too hard to read. levi's astonishment wears off, his face turning somber. they look so much like him when he was younger and malnourished.

- they look so lonely, all alone with nobody. you pull your hand back, not wanting to make them uncomfortable with your touch; you are a random stranger after all.

- you pass levi a look of sorrow, his expression is almost the same as yours if the man weren't so hard faced. the child is small, despite that they find the strength to get up.

"it's. . .okay," two simple words. their voice soft and sweet, you almost melt. "why are you out here. . .like this? where are your parents?" you can't help but bombard them with questions left and right.

- staying just a few minutes longer with this child you learn that she was "taken in" by her aunt and uncle, her parents handing her down to distant family because of finical reasons. not wanting to scrape around town for more money, since having more than three kids was beyond difficult.

- your eyes alter to levi and back every few seconds, wanting to glimpse at his expressions, even if they might be non-existent.

"alright, but why are you out here?" the golden question, levi is the one to be bold. "they. . .didn't have room for me either." the poor girl, passed from house to house only to be kicked out.

- you look at levi again, you guys have to take in this girl.

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dutiful-wildcraft · 16 hours ago

Text

I re-emerge with a soft and vaguely angsty Nik/Price/F!Reader

Unedited, 1k, enjoy <3

It's not unusual for Nikolai to look after her while Price is away. As a matter of fact it grew common, the burly Russian staying with her more often than not, even when John was home.

And what had originally been a friendly extension of John, extra security at her call, had evolved into another soft body in their bed, both men's mingled cologne sinking into her sheets as she slept tucked between them.

However, these last few days had been devoid of soft embraces and stolen kisses, but rather wretched coughing and sniffly noses.

Nikolai, has been sick as shit for days.

Thankfully, he'd been minding her with only a small amount of caterwauling. Huffing and puffing about her not sleeping beside him, whining as sickly boys are want to do.

His raspy voice somehow stupidly effective in getting him his way.

Can I have more blankets lisichka? he rumbles pitifully.

What will we have for lunch? he asks with big brown eyes.

As if he could keep anything more than cheese and crackers down.

Unable to sleep due to Nikolai’s chainsaw level congestion snores, she slinks down stairs in the wee hours of the morning. Having already decided to make her favorite comfort food. Something simple, savory and carb heavy for the pair of them.

On a whim she gives John a video call, setting it up on the counter while it rings and rings.

She hardly expects him to answer, he rarely does. And considering he'd already been gone 4 out of his supposed 6 week stint, she was sure her man was still up to his chest in work.

She's got a maw full of shredded cheese when John's voice rings through the receiver.

“Hello darling”

She sputters, recovering quickly to flash him a big goofy smile.

“Hey love” she whispers back, heart fit to burst as she takes him. There isn't much to see, just the pale light of his phone illuminating his features in the darkness. His beard is scruffy, bags under his eyes far too heavy for her liking.

“Hello” he repeats again, an infinite fondness in his voice. His sweet cheeks pulled up into that little smile that still makes her blush. She sheepishly brushes the remnant shredded cheese off her tits, tries to quickly adjust her hair.

She can see her own image reflected in the top corner of her screen, she looks like hammered hell honestly. Hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes, clad in ratty stained oversized shirt. She almost feels a little guilty for not looking more presentable for him when he chimes in again.

“Missed that sweet face.” he murmurs, and all those nagging thoughts plop right from her noggin. The goofy man would think she'd look hot in a trash bag.

“Missed your face too baby, you okay?” She knows better than to ask about the op, instead lets him pick and choose what he likes to talk about.

“Much better now, might even be home sooner than we thought.”

Her ears perk at that, spiritual tail wagging hopefully. She missed him dearly, occasionally shed tears in the lonely showers away from Nikolai, when the weight became to much for her to bare. She does her best not to say anything, doesn't want him to feel bad for being so far away. Instead she sends him updates, pictures of the animals, of her meals, this weeks favorite song.

He doesn't reply, she knows he can't, but he does read them, follows up with each one in a big text or call when he can. Somehow holding the details despite whatever hell he sees.

“What you makin’ over there?” he cuts in, trying to eye the counter with a raised brow through the screen.

“I was hankerin’ for some potato soup, thought the patient would like it too.” she chuckles a bit.

“Mmm, sweet thing aren't you? How is he?”

“He's only a little whiny, spends his day trying to coax me close enough to cough on me, claims he just wants a cuddle” she laughs.

John chuckles too, shaking his head with a fond exasperation.“Well, you gonna show me how to do it?”

“Huh? Right now? I was just calling…you can get your rest babe, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I'm far from tired with a pretty thing cookin for me, now go on.”

She flashes him a knowing look. John Price was no chef, he did well enough, but she'd caught him on more than one occasion following along to the little cooking videos he'd dug up on the internet. Especially those made by other soft southern women.

With an expectant look she continues her work, cutting vegetables and getting the stock pot ready.

“Talk to me love, need to hear your voice.” he reminds her.

Not want. Need. And who was she to deny him? So with a little fumbling she starts narrating, mimicking the smooth diction she'd often heard in those same videos, biting back a smile as she watches John fight sleep. Tired baby blues drooping lower and lower, closing briefly before the sharp snick of cut carrots stirs him again. Eyes straining to keep watch.

Sweet man.

She knows he's exhausted, more so than she can probably imagine. What hell he's had to dodge up until this point, and possibly a few days more until he can see them again.

Something in her chest stirs at how he stills for her, easily drawn into the soft bubble of comfort she can provide at such a distance. Lulled easily by a silly soup recipe, simply because it's her voice. She wonders now if he uses her voice messages similarly. She wonders if he would let her read him to sleep.

She files it away. Along with the thought of sending him softer voice messages for when he's away.

She looks to him again, bristly face squished against his pillow. Eyes closed serenely.

“Wanna know my secret?” she asks, soft and playful, watching one of his pretty blue eyes creak open at her tone.

“W'sat luv?”

“I use instant mashed potatoes to thicken up my soup, makes it extra potatoe-y” she giggles.

“My clever girl” he mumbles dreamily, followed by a string of more barely intelligible praise. It rolls easy and proud from his chest, voice no more than a sleepy purr that makes a grin split her face.

By the time she's finished up John is fully asleep, his measured breaths pouring through the receiver just shy of a real snore.

Her heart aches deep in her chest, a chunk of it long gone and far far away in the form of one John Price, and while she can see him now, know he's alive and relatively well, she longs more than anything to crawl in next to him. Hold him close tucked beneath her chin, where she can keep him warm and safe herself.

As if on cue, a pair of strong arms wrap around her middle, Nikolai’s hot cheek pressed to her temple where he briefly lays a kiss. This time she doesn't fight him.

Getting sick be damned.

“Pretty thing isn't he?” Nikolai rumbles quietly, eyeing the phone screen with those fond brown eyes.

She simply hums an affirmative in his arms, words caught in her throat by the emotion that's threatening to escape her.

Nik seems to catch on, giving her a soft squeeze. “How is he?” he whispers instead, voice low to not wake the man on the other side of the world.

The question is able to at least shake a little out of her. “He seems okay, worn out, fell asleep watching me cook.” She watches John for another moment before sucking in a deep sigh, squirming around in Niks arms to face him, tuck herself into his arms.

“I'm just ready for him to be home” she mumbles into the soft plush of his chest.

Nik pulls her in closer, warm hands petting along her back, squeezing the back of her neck soothingly. “Me too, malyshka” he returns, the weight of John's absence equally heavy in his own voice.

The pair stay there for some time, swaying gently in each other's embrace, listening to John's soft snores until the sun paints their meager kitchen gold.

#abrupt ending bc I cant end things for shit #nik is some kind of baby #price is too #price x reader #john price #nikolai cod #nikprice #nikolai x reader #call of duty #cod #captain john price #wildcraft writing

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floret-affini-research · 2 days ago

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RESEARCH LOG 018

RESEARCHER M. Arum

AUDIO FILE DETECTED, LOADING TRANSCRIPT...

"Aaand bam! That's how you get the recorder active on this thing."

"Woaaaa, that's so cool! How'd you even get this thingy? It seems really old."

"Back on the vessel I was joining for a short time, there was a collection of older technology, pieces that were considered too broken or obsolete for anything other than scrap. I was able to put this one back together, so they let me keep it for this research project."

"Oooooo, so you're really pretty and hot and smart and good with your hands?~"

"S-stop trying to fluster me like that. In any case, it will be beneficial for you to keep all this information in mind. It may be needed if I am to become ill again."

"Hehehehehe, I wouldn't exactly say you got ill, just really really happy~"

"Ugh, please do not remind me."

"You mean about how you were really really loud and kept asking Mistress to say that magic word to make you feel all good and tingly? What was it again?~"

"I swear Marianna, if you were not the only company I can have at the moment I would tell you to leave my presence."

"Hehehehehe, I know you don't really mean that, otherwise you'd be all huffy instead of all red and silly."

"Th-that is besides the point. In any case, I am going to end the recording. Terminate au-"

"Oh oh! Can I say it this time?"

"Huh? I guess so, yeah"

"Hehehe, ok ok, but first~"

"Huh-!"

...

"Y-y-y-y-ou can't just kiss me like that outta nowhere! Ugh, now I've got saliva all over my chin."

"Hehehehe, but it's so much fun, isn't it? Especially since Mistress gave me a special little biomod for kisses~"

"Wh-what are you... talking... about..?"

"Mayyyybe just a little bit of a cocktail of your favorites~"

"Because you trust me far too much~"

"D-dammit Marianna... how did I let my guard dow-"

...

"St-stars, that is... strong... how'd I let my... guard down so much for you?"

"C-clearly I do indeed."

"Hehehe, want me to say your favorite word?~ I know the urge is burning inside you by now~"

"F-frost... I-I can't... focus... too cloudy"

"Don't you just want to let go?~ Don't you just want me to say it?~"

"I... swear I'm... gonna get you back... for this..."

...

"Y-you keep... making my head fuzzyyy"

"...unmake m-me... please... I don't want to... think anymore~"

"Well, you'll only get to have revenge after, so you may as well submit for now~ So, beg for it~"

...

"Hehehehe, such a good doll~ Now then...

FALL

Oh roots your so cute like this~ Just completely at my mercy to do with as I please~ But I know someone who'll love to see it even more~ Oh Mistress!~"

Yes my darling little Floret? Oh! It appears that you two are greatly enjoying each other's company~

"We really are Mistress, but I think this dolly is feeling kinda shy~ Can you give her a voice? I really really would love it~"

Oh my, a truly splendid idea my darling, it would be wonderful to hear this doll sing~

"I'm a good doll, I do as I'm told. I don't need to think. I want to be played with."

"Hehehehe, seems like she's enjoy this a looot~"

Oh very much so~ Would you like for me to let you play with your doll all on your own for now?~

"Yes please Mistress, I wanna see what fun new things I can make her do like this~"

Very well then, but if you over do it, then I may have to have two cute dolls on my mantle~

"Y-yes Mistress, I'll make sure to be careful, I promise!"

Very good, have fun my sweet little things~

"Hehehe, you hear that? I get to have all kinds of fun with you alllll to myself~ So, what does this cute dolly want me to do?~"

"Use me however you see fit. Dolls don't think. Dolls cannot choose. I'm a good doll."

"You really are the greatest dolly~ But I don't think I want you knowing just what I'll do with you~ Terminate audio recording~"

#human domestication guide #hdg #affini #relationship research #personal log #marianna reporting for duty! :3 #hypnokink #hypnosis #floretposting

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moon-catto · 2 years ago

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OMG SOYOON??!/$/&2 shes one of my fav ksingers/kband ever, Winter will always remain my fav from her discography

I just clicked on the link and Winter is officially in my playlist 😔👌💖 I want to be in a roadtrip listening on this song and just stare at the window right now 🚗

#💌 : you got a new letter!#sender: anon 🌟#i can't get over on how sweet her voice is #and don't get me on with the lyrics #beautiful #absolutely beautiful

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firstroseofspring · 2 months ago

Text

thinking pondering to me john torres is like. what if u met a woman. with confidence and dignity and a strong moral backbone. you meet and she makes a distinct impression with her honesty and her frankness and she seems like she's always sure of what she wants and what she needs and she's so different from anyone else you know and thats exciting and she's exciting and she likes you specifically you. and you don't think much of you but it feels good to be liked by someone like that. you love her of course. you marry her. of course!

#diary #miral of course miral this post as all other posts on my blog is about miral. head in my hands #john torres and his projected insecurities and shitty behavior you will always be infamous.#im so deeply rooted in my headcanons for them i have au's . girl the universe isnt even that well established ?#call me b'elanna torres the way i'm turning miral and john over in my head to figure out what the heck happened #in my head john and miral are like. john voice she's never stuttered in her life she always knows what to do she's very serious strong head #on her shoulders. my kind of woman.#meanwhile miral is like. act first pray on it later was that a mistake? well what is a mistake really this is my path now #and i'll have to see how to handle what has been done. seeing as now it can't be changed shrugs. the honorable thing to do.#i also think they see a lot of their flaws as like-#consequences of their cultures and not like personal flaws which can sometimes be true but also sometimes they are very much flaws in the #person.#miral is a little too sure of herself bordering on arrogance and likes control. john is like ahh klingons and their surefootedness :)#<- a little correct but also very wrong.#john is very like. at his worst a cold shoulder bad at personal confrontation kind of a pushover quick to resent but usually just seems #serious and occasionally quiet . normally social tho! so miral is like. a consequence of his upbringing that can't be changed. i will #take him as he is.#which is a nice sentiment and would normally be applied well unless you are these two specifically.#what happens when its 10 or even just five years later and you're getting tired of the cowardice? what happens when its five years later and #you can't go a day without arguing? what happens then.#did you confuse her arrogance for poise for assertiveness? did you confuse her recklessness with courage? whos wrong her or you?#miral voice is he a fool does he not care? he's content to just stand by? cower?#i think from the klingon pov a man who isn't willing to fight for you and your relationship must be devastatinggggg #not literally of course here but also literally. lol #but yeah what does it do to you when the person you love won't even argue with you anymore just totally pulls away? leaves. head in my hands #who do you think fell first. idk but i know who fell harder! :) <- tears in my eyes #i really like pathways where they made miral like a chatty woman and had her offer to host parties for b'elanna and her friends it was so #sweet i should read it again.#i like her to be a little crazy though <3 :)

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eupheme · 3 months ago

Text

— sugar, sugar

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

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

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

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

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

“You gonna introduce me?”

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

“You think this will wash out?”

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

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

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

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

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

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

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

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

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

And maybe that was friendship, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who do you think got Peter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give him a sideways look, then.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m really glad to hear that.”

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“18.”

Another beat passes, and then a sigh.

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

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

Wade’s fist pumps.

Bullseye, motherfucker.

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

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

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

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

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

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

Ambiance, his ass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Penis cake?

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus Christ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wants to meet you.

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

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

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

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

He hates you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You first.”

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

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

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

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

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

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

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

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

Different. Special.

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

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

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

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

“Right. What flavor was it?”

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

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

He hums then, close to a laugh.

“Sure. You do that.”

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

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

Setting it free.

“I’m a mutant.”

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

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

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

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

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex.

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

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

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

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

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

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

“But doesn’t that hurt?”

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

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

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

His hand flexes in your grip.

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

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

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

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

“No. I don’t think so.”

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

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply.

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

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

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

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly.

“Let me ask you one more thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

Surely he must know?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to get out of here?”

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

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s here that he comes back to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it sweetheart.”

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

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

You did this to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck me, Logan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s almost too much.

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

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

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

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise.

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

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

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

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

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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