#logan needs to step aside...

[mikupepsi]

Hardly anyone shows Morph love in this fandom and I think that's criminal bc I'd take a hundred punches in the stomach for that guy

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

In the back of the Honda (Deadpool)

Description: Y/N and Wade fuck in the back of the Honda

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,346k

Request: can we have a deadpool smut in the suit ?

Being in the void with Wade and Logan wasn’t so fun after all. Y/N thought that they would be a good team and could take on the world but she was wrong. All they kept doing was fighting and it was starting to piss her off. At first it was funny but now? After dealing with Nova, it was annoying. “Guys can you be serious for once?” She asked but they ignored her. Logan seemed to hate Wade’s guts especially after hearing that the promise Wade made was bullshit and that it wasn’t guaranteed to save his universe.

He said some pretty hurtful things but Y/N got his pain. “Y/N my dear, step out of the car.” He told her while staring at Logan through the mask. She didn’t question it and got out just for a fight to break out moments later. Wade and Logan flew out of the car multiple times and she looked unimpressed each time. She just wanted to be home with Wade but of course this happened. “Alright!” She yelled walking back up to the car. “Stop fighting!” She yelled and they both looked at her.

“I’m so sick of this! We need to come up with a plan instead of violence.” Being the voice of reason wasn’t easy when it came to these two. “You’re right.” Logan said and Wade agreed. Y/N smiled at the two, happy that she got her way. She turned around for a second and a fight broke out again. “WADE!”

Y/N yawned as she got up and realized that they weren’t in the Honda anymore but in a cabin? She looked over to see Logan drinking and Wade was still asleep. “Hey babe, wake up .” She shook him. “Thor!” She looked at him confused, “Were you dreaming about Thor?” She asked with a laugh.

“No. Maybe I- Where are we?” He asked, looking around. “I don’t know but I like it.” Logan smirked, holding up the liquor. Y/N got off the bed to examine the place. Wade followed her until he got knocked down by some woman. Y/N stepped back and saw who it was. Elektra. Her eyes widened and Wade got up. Blade had walked in next and then some random foreign guy. “The Gambit.” His accent was hot. “Who is this fine lady?” He asked walking up to Y/N. Wade had stepped in front of her, “Listen here friendo she is mine, okay?” Y/N chuckled at his jealousy and pushed him aside to shake the guy’s hand. “Y/N and yeah he’s my boyfriend.” Wade smiled under his mask at her words. X23 came out and it was Logan’s daughter which should have been emotional but since Logan doesn’t know her, it’s not? 

“Well we came out alive.” Y/N said and shivered at the memory of Nova’s fingers in her head. The others figured after hearing that, that they should give it a shot besides Logan. “You’re all fucking dead.” He said and though Y/N agreed with him, they couldn’t stay there forever. 

Y/N and Wade sat in the Honda as Logan talked to Laura. “Beautiful isn’t it?” He asked. “What is? The Honda?” Y/N knew that Wade hated this car and the fact that it’s all they have made it kinda funny. “Yeah, I mean it fucks hard.” Y/N looked at him, confused. “Fucks hard?” He nods and turns to her, “Watch this.” He said and got in the backseat.

He spread himself out and patted his lap. She felt herself get wet at that and climbed to the back with him. “Get on my lap kitten. Daddy’s gonna show you why this car fucks hard.” He told her and she did. His hands traveled up her body and to her tits, giving them a squeeze.

He watched her lightly gasp and closed her eyes. His hands moved down to her ass and he slapped it hard. “Fuck.” She groaned but loved it. His hands moved to her front and slipped in her leggings, “No panties you naughty girl.” He says and runs a finger over her clit. He didn’t take off his gloves so the feeling was new but she liked it. “Wade fuck.” She whined as his movements sped up on her pussy. His other hand sneaks in her leggings and circles her hole, “You are soaked, baby girl.” Even through the glove he could tell.

“Wade please.” She begged him and he stuck a finger in her tight pussy. He chuckled at the sound of her wet pussy. She threw her head back as he started to finger fuck her. One finger wasn’t enough so he added another. “Look at you, my pretty girl. All fucked out from just my fingers.” His words made her moan and she bucked her hips. His fingers were at a brutal pace now.

He slipped his hand that was rubbing her clit all the way up to her mouth. Her lips closed around his gloved fingers and sucked all her juices off it while moaning. “That’s a pretty girl.” He says and her hips start fucking his fingers. He was bold enough to add another finger in her causing her to nearly scream. He chuckled and removed his fingers from her mouth before going down to rub her clit again.

His glove was wet with her salvia and she whined at the feeling. It wasn’t too long before her pussy was fluttering on his fingers, “Are you close?” He asked and she nodded. She couldn’t form words besides his name. Her breathing turned to panting and she felt herself right on the edge when Wade stopped. He pulled his hands out of her leggings and she glared at him.

“We are making this car rock baby girl.” He tells her and pulls down his pants. She manages to remove her leggings and gets back on his lap. “Are you removing the mask?” She asked him and he shakes his head, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you in this suit.” He states and pulls her down so that his dick is right at her hole. “Oh fuck I can feel you dripping on me.” She smirks and slowly takes him in. He sucks in a breath and she gasps as he stretches her out.

“You look so beautiful taking my cock.” He says and she fully sits in his lap. His hands go to her hips and he slowly drags her on his cock. “Mmmm Wade.” She moans as he moves her on him. The pace was brutally slow so she started bouncing on him, actually making the car move. “Fuck yeah baby. Ride my cock.” He says and she moans. One of his hands moves up her shirt to one of her nipples.

She gasps at the feeling of him playing with it and throws her head back, “Shit. Wade, that’s gonna make me cum.” She warned and her pussy started fluttering around his dick. “Fuck sweetheart. You doing that’s gonna make me explode.” He breathed out. “Doggy style?” She asked and got off him. They quickly got in the position.

He slides himself back inside of her and she moans. He doesn’t waste time and starts fucking her again. His hands on her hips and hers gripping the car seat. The car was hot and the window’s became foggy. She placed one of her hands on the window as he never stopped ramming into her.

“Wade, I'm close again.” She warned and her breathing got heavier again. “Trust me baby. I can feel it.” He groaned and slapped her ass. She cried his name at that and he chuckled, “Cum for me baby.” He said and her eyes rolled back. A silent scream left her mouth as she felt herself cream his dick. “I’m cumming, fuck.” Wade whined as his hips stilled and his cum mixed with hers. “Mmmm fuck.” She said as he pulled out. She turned around and collapsed on the seat with him. She turns to look at him and smiles, “You’re right. The Honda Odyssey does fuck hard.” 

[htchnr]

♰ old and weary ༻ L. HOWLETT.*ೃ˚

✮ꜜ masterlist. ✮ꜜ buy me a ko-fi!

content warning hurt/comfort ⋆ r's mutation is healing wounds with the direct touch of her fingers ⋆ blood ⋆ injuries with no mentioned severity ⋆ this tired old man needs a hug ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

pairing old man!Logan.

summary his body isn't what it used to be, so you help him after each fight he gets into. you heal his wounds and heal his soul, day by day and kiss by kiss. wordcount 0,6k.

authors note i'm trying to work on a few Logan requests (it might take me a bit to get them out as i'm still struggling with my writers block, so pls bear with me), so while i fight my brain, have some more sappy old man!Logan comfort 🫠🥹

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

your home's quiet at this late hour, only the low sound of the tv playing some show in the background. the distant sound of Logan pulling up outside in the limo makes your heart jump a little with a tired smile.

you set your sewing project aside — patching up one of Logan's shirts — as you move up to greet him at the door.

your smile falters as you're met with the bloody sight of Logan, his shoulders hung in exhaustion, his body flinching with each heavy step. he closes the front door without a word, letting you lead him up the stairs and to your spacious bathroom.

he sits down on the edge of the tub like clockwork, sore fingers already pulling at the buttons of his stained and torn dress shirt. you sigh, gently pushing his hands aside. you wordlessly take over, unbuttoning the shirt and peeling the fabric off his figure.

you sigh sadly as you observe the damage, cuts and scrapes spanning across his broad chest and shoulders; no doubt scattering across his back as well. Logan flinches beneath your touch as your thumb slowly smooths over the first small cut on his shoulder, starting the intimate routine of healing the wounds his aging body has trouble with.

he grunts as he feels the skin weave itself back together beneath the soft pad of your thumb, leaning forward to rest his head against your stomach. you lean down to press a kiss to the skin where the small cut once was, letting your lips linger for a second before your thumb finds another injury to smooth over.

the room is filled with Logan's quiet grunts and pants as you lovingly work away each wound; leaving only the dried blood behind as evidence. and after each wound is healed you press gentle kisses to the aging skin — a regular routine that slowly heals Logan's aching, old heart kiss by kiss.

you rest your cheek against the top of his head after healing the last wound, your body slouching beneath his hold from exhaustion. while you would always heal him, no matter what time or day; that doesn't take away from the fact that it's a draining routine — the healing taking every bit of your energy.

you tiredly pull away from him, his strong arms reluctantly letting you go as you wet a washcloth with warm water and soap. you could almost hear low purrs emitting from Logan as you drag the wet cloth across his scarred skin, gently scrubbing away at the dried blood.

you drop the dirty cloth in the sink, raking your damp fingers through his greying hair as he keeps his face pressed against your stomach. his rough hands are tucked beneath your shirt, fingers digging into the supple skin of your waist. " sometimes you're really like my big dog i used to have, he liked head scratches too. "

Logan doesn't say a word about your quiet admission when you bend down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, your lips lingering before you rest your cheek a top his head. " let's get you to bed, " you yawn, your fingers scratching soft, soothing patterns against his scalp.

he hums against your stomach, the sounds low and rough. he lets you guide him up, his knees cracking as he stands up, leading him out of the bathroom and to the bedroom by his hand.

the moment he slides into bed beside you his shoulders finally relax, melting against you as he settles with his head on your chest and his face buried in the crook of your neck. you smile tiredly as you lace your fingers with his with one hand, the other rhythmically combing through his hair.

Logan lets out a long sigh, his heavy figure deflating against yours. " you know, sometimes i think he came back in the form of you, somehow always there to protect me. "

his fingers twitch around yours, his heart throbbing at your mumbled words. he scrunches his face, nuzzling impossibly close against you.

" goodnight, Lo, " you yawn, resting your cheek against his head. " 'love you. "

he tries not to tense against you at your words, not wanting to startle you wide out of your sleepy state. his eyes are wide open, blinking at the soft skin of your throat. the more he thinks about your words, the more at ease he feels. no longer do those particular words send him running, they anchor him.

he lets his tired and aching eyes fall shut, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. " i love you too, sweetheart. "

[urdreamydoodles]

hi! may i request a x-men headcanon where their SO protects them during a battle/fight? i love the idea of these oh so powerful characters being protected

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You protect them during a fight

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Bobby Drake, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney & Wade Wilson

Hi everyone. As you have seen the requests are closed, because I need to catch up first before reopening them. I hope you understand. And thank you Anon, I love this prompt.

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan had always been the one protecting you. It was his default mode: putting himself between you and any threat without hesitation. So when you threw yourself in front of him during a fight, claws and bullets flying, he froze for a split second. “What the hell are you doing?!” he growled, his voice a mix of anger and panic. It wasn’t fear for himself—it was fear for you.

- You didn’t answer, focusing on deflecting an incoming blow with whatever weapon you had on hand. The sight of you so fiercely determined to keep him safe left Logan stunned, his heightened senses zeroing in on the rapid beat of your heart. He hated that you were putting yourself in danger, but a small, buried part of him felt something else—pride.

- After the fight, Logan pulled you aside, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “You’re outta your damn mind,” he snarled, though his eyes betrayed his worry. “You don’t need to protect me—I’m the one who does that, got it?” You could see the conflict in him, the way his gruff exterior was cracking under the weight of his feelings for you.

- Later that night, Logan found you tending to your own wounds, stubborn as ever. He sat beside you, quiet for once. “Look, I get it,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t like seein’ you get hurt for me. But… thanks.” It was rare for Logan to express gratitude so openly, and the way he looked at you then—like you were the strongest person he’d ever met—made your heart ache in the best way.

- From then on, Logan learned to accept that you weren’t someone who would just stand by when he was in danger. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he’d mutter whenever you stepped in to protect him again, though his smirk betrayed his true feelings. He respected you even more for it, knowing you’d fight for him as fiercely as he’d fight for you.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy was the master of charm and cunning, always finding a way to dodge danger or talk his way out of a fight. So when you charged in to shield him from an energy blast mid-battle, he was caught completely off guard. “Chérie, what you doin’?” he called, his voice tinged with disbelief and worry as he watched you take the brunt of the attack.

- You shrugged it off, focusing on getting him to safety. Remy, who had always prided himself on being in control, felt an unfamiliar pang of vulnerability. The sight of you putting yourself on the line for him stirred something deep within—a mixture of guilt and admiration.

- After the fight, Remy found you leaning against a wall, catching your breath. He approached you with his usual swagger, though his red-on-black eyes betrayed his concern. “Y’know, I’m supposed to be the knight in shining armor, non?” he teased, but his tone was softer than usual. He reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face. “Don’t go scarin’ me like dat again, yeah?”

- That night, Remy couldn’t help but replay the moment in his mind. It wasn’t often that someone would risk themselves for him, and it made him realize just how much you meant to him. He pulled you close, his hand resting on the small of your back. “You got a heart as big as the Mississippi, mon amour,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But let me take care o’ you next time.”

- From then on, Remy made it his mission to protect you just as fiercely as you protected him. Still, whenever you stepped in to save him during a fight, he couldn’t help but grin. “Dat’s my love,” he’d say with a wink, his pride in you shining through even in the heat of battle.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt was no stranger to danger, his agility and teleportation making him a formidable opponent in any fight. But when he found himself cornered by an enemy, only to see you teleport—or sprint—into harm’s way to shield him, his golden eyes widened in shock. “Mein Schatz, nein!” he cried, reaching for you instinctively, his heart racing at the sight of you defending him.

- You fought with a determination that left Kurt breathless, your movements precise and unyielding. For once, the usually nimble and quick-witted mutant found himself at a loss for words. The way you protected him, fearless and selfless, struck a chord deep within him.

- After the dust settled, Kurt appeared at your side in an instant, his hands gently checking you for injuries. “Why would you do that for me?” he asked, his voice soft yet trembling with emotion. When you gestured or explained that you’d do anything to keep him safe, his heart swelled with a mixture of love and guilt. “You are too precious to me,” he said, his tail curling around your waist protectively.

- That evening, Kurt refused to leave your side. He wrapped you in his arms, his warmth and the faint scent of brimstone enveloping you. “You are my everything,” he murmured, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back. “But please, promise me you will be careful. I could not bear to lose you.”

- From then on, Kurt saw you not just as his partner but as his equal in every sense. He admired your bravery and strength, though he couldn’t help but worry whenever you put yourself in harm’s way for him. “You are my hero,” he’d tell you with a teasing smile, though the sincerity in his voice made it clear he truly meant it.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott was used to being the leader, the one responsible for keeping everyone safe. So when you leapt in front of him to block an attack during a heated battle, his usually composed demeanor cracked. “What are you doing?!” he shouted, his voice filled with both anger and fear as he fired a concussive blast to finish off the threat.

- Watching you fight to protect him stirred a whirlwind of emotions in Scott. He admired your courage, but the sight of you putting yourself at risk for his sake left him shaken. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said firmly once the fight was over, though his hands were trembling as he reached for you.

- You tried to explain that you couldn’t stand by and watch him get hurt, but Scott’s jaw tightened, his concern overshadowing his usual logical demeanor. “I’m supposed to protect you,” he insisted, though the gratitude in his eyes betrayed his words. He hated feeling vulnerable, but he couldn’t deny how much your actions meant to him.

- Later that night, Scott found you in the med bay, patching up a minor wound. He sat beside you, his hand covering yours. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he said quietly, his voice softening. “But please, don’t scare me like that again.” His lips brushed against your forehead, a rare moment of tenderness from the stoic leader.

- From that moment on, Scott’s respect for you deepened even further. He still tried to protect you whenever he could, but he also learned to trust your strength. “You’re my partner,” he said one day, his hand finding yours. “We protect each other.” His smile was small but genuine, a reflection of the unshakable bond you’d built together.

- Jean was always the empathetic one, attuned to the emotions and thoughts of those she cared about. During a mission gone sideways, an enemy blast was heading straight for her. Before she could react, you threw yourself in the line of fire, your shield or power absorbing the impact. Jean’s green eyes widened, and for a moment, all she could feel was panic. “What were you thinking?!” her voice echoed telepathically and out loud simultaneously, both scolding and filled with fear.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- The battle continued, but Jean’s focus kept flickering back to you. Even as she unleashed telekinetic waves and telepathic strikes, her thoughts were drawn to how recklessly you had acted for her sake. When the fight was over, she rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she checked you over. “You’re okay,” she breathed, relief washing over her like a wave. But then her tone shifted, more serious. “You’re never doing that again.”

- Back at the mansion, Jean sat with you in the med bay, her fingers brushing over your bandaged arm. “You know I can take care of myself,” she said softly. “But the fact that you stepped in… it means everything to me.” Her emotions were a mix of guilt and admiration, and her psychic connection to you buzzed with a warmth that made your heart ache.

- That evening, Jean made sure you rested, though she stayed by your side the entire time. “You’re stronger than you think,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But don’t think for a second that I’d ever let something happen to you. You’re my everything.” Her confession was quiet but sincere, and the glow of her powers seemed softer, more intimate, in the dim light.

- From then on, Jean’s respect for you deepened even further. While she still tried to shield you during battles, she also began to see you as her equal, someone she could rely on. “You’re my partner in every way,” she told you one day, her telepathic voice brushing against your mind like a gentle caress. “We protect each other, always.”

- Ororo was grace and power incarnate, her calm exterior rarely breaking even in the most chaotic situations. But when a battle turned dire and an enemy aimed for her while her back was turned, you didn’t hesitate. Throwing yourself in harm’s way, you used every ounce of your strength to protect her. Lightning crackled in the air as Ororo spun around, her silver eyes wide with shock and fury. “Why would you do that?!” she demanded, her voice carrying the weight of a storm.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Even as the fight raged on, Ororo’s attention kept straying to you, her heart pounding in a way she hadn’t felt in years. The idea of you getting hurt for her sake was unbearable, and yet, she couldn’t deny the overwhelming respect she felt for your bravery. When the battle ended, she landed gracefully beside you, her hands glowing faintly as she helped heal your wounds with a soft breeze.

- “You could have been seriously hurt,” Ororo said, her tone softer now but still laced with worry. She cupped your face gently, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “You mean too much to me to take such risks.” Her words were both a reprimand and a confession, her eyes reflecting the depth of her feelings for you.

- That night, Ororo brought you to her greenhouse, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers and fresh rain. “I’ve always believed in protecting those I care about,” she said, her voice like a melody. “But you… you’ve shown me that love is a two-way street.” Her fingers intertwined with yours as she smiled, a rare and genuine expression of vulnerability.

- From that moment on, Ororo saw you as her equal, someone she could rely on even in the most dangerous situations. “You’re as fierce as the storm itself,” she told you one day, her voice filled with pride. “And I’ll always be grateful to have you by my side.”

- Rogue had always been careful about keeping people at a distance, her powers making physical contact a constant danger. But when a fight turned south and an enemy got the upper hand, you didn’t hesitate to step in and protect her. You took the blow meant for her, even though it left you gasping for breath. “What the hell are you doin’, sugar?!” Rogue shouted, her Southern accent thick with worry as she fought to keep the attackers at bay.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- After the fight, Rogue knelt beside you, her gloved hands hovering over your injuries. “Why would you do that?” she asked, her voice cracking. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be protectin’ you.” Her green eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the vulnerability in her expression breaking your heart.

- Back at the mansion, Rogue stayed by your side, refusing to leave until she was sure you were okay. “You’re the stubbornest person I’ve ever met,” she said with a shaky laugh, brushing a strand of hair from your face with her gloved fingers. “But I guess that’s one o’ the reasons I love you.” Her confession was quiet, almost hesitant, but the look in her eyes left no room for doubt.

- That evening, Rogue sat with you on the porch, the night air cool against your skin. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she said, her voice soft. “I’ve spent so long keepin’ people at arm’s length, afraid of hurtin’ ‘em. But you… you make me wanna take the risk.” She reached for your hand, her glove the only barrier between your skin and hers, but the connection was still electric.

- From then on, Rogue made it clear that she would do anything to keep you safe, even as she learned to trust your strength. “We’re a team, sugar,” she said one day, her smile warm and genuine. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

- Erik was used to being the protector, his mastery over magnetism making him a force to be reckoned with. So when you stepped in to shield him during a heated battle, deflecting an attack with your own powers or sheer determination, he was caught completely off guard. “Are you mad?” he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and concern as he pulled you behind him.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Even as he fought off the remaining enemies, Erik couldn’t shake the image of you standing so bravely in front of him. The thought of you risking yourself for his sake stirred emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years—fear, admiration, and an aching tenderness.

- After the fight, Erik confronted you, his expression stern but his eyes betraying his worry. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?” he asked, his voice low. When you explained your actions, his jaw tightened, and he looked away, struggling to hide the vulnerability in his expression. “You’re remarkable,” he finally admitted, his voice soft. “But reckless.”

- That night, Erik sat with you in his study, the room filled with the soft hum of his powers as he absentmindedly manipulated a small piece of metal. “You remind me of why I fight,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “You make me believe in something greater than myself.” His confession was uncharacteristically open, and the way he looked at you then made your heart race.

- From that moment on, Erik began to see you as his equal, someone he could trust and rely on. While he still tried to protect you during battles, he also respected your strength and determination. “Together, we’re unstoppable,” he told you one day, his hand resting on yours. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

- Charles had always prided himself on being the one who guided and protected others, both physically and mentally. During a heated skirmish, when the enemy targeted him while he was focused on neutralizing their minds, you acted without hesitation. You threw yourself into the fray, using your powers or sheer determination to shield him from harm. When the dust settled, Charles wheeled himself over to you, his face pale. “You could have been seriously injured,” he said softly, though his tone carried a mix of gratitude and concern.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Throughout the aftermath of the fight, Charles kept his composure, but his worry lingered. As the team regrouped, he observed you quietly, his telepathic thoughts touching yours with gentle reassurance. Later, when the others left, he finally addressed you. “Why would you take such a risk for me?” he asked, his blue eyes searching yours for an answer. When you replied that you’d do it again without question, he sighed, a small, bittersweet smile gracing his face.

- Back at the mansion, Charles invited you to his study. “You know,” he began, fingers steepled in thought, “I’ve spent so much time protecting others that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have someone protect me.” There was a vulnerability in his words that surprised you. “Thank you,” he added, his voice quiet but full of emotion.

- Over the following days, Charles couldn’t help but admire your bravery. He found himself drawn to your selflessness and began to see you in a new light. One evening, as the two of you sat by the fire, he finally admitted, “I’ve grown quite attached to you. More than I ever expected.” His confession was gentle but sincere, his psychic presence brushing against your mind like a warm embrace.

- From that point on, Charles became even more protective of you, though he also respected your strength and independence. “We’re stronger together,” he said one day, taking your hand in his. “And I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe—just as you’ve done for me.”

- Bobby had always been the joker of the group, rarely taking anything too seriously. But during a particularly chaotic fight, when an enemy’s attack veered toward him, he was caught off guard. Before he could react, you stepped in, using your quick thinking and courage to protect him. “Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?!” he shouted, his voice tinged with panic as he watched you take the brunt of the attack.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- After the battle, Bobby rushed to your side, his usual playful demeanor replaced with genuine concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his hands hovering over you as if afraid to touch you. When you shrugged it off and made a joke, he blinked, then shook his head. “I should be the one cracking jokes, not you,” he muttered, though his grin was tinged with guilt.

- Back at the mansion, Bobby stayed close, making sure you were patched up and comfortable. “You know,” he said, trying to sound casual, “you’re kind of amazing. Stupidly reckless, but amazing.” He fiddled with an ice construct in his hands, his usual confidence giving way to a rare vulnerability. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

- Over the next few days, Bobby couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d done for him. He started showing up more often, finding excuses to be around you. One night, as you were watching a movie together, he finally blurted out, “Okay, so maybe I kinda like you. A lot.” His cheeks flushed, and he looked away, pretending to focus on his popcorn.

- From then on, Bobby made it his mission to keep you safe, though he never stopped teasing you about your heroic antics. “You’re my favorite reckless hero,” he said one day, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “But don’t think for a second that I’m letting you pull a stunt like that again.”

- Wanda had always carried the weight of her powers, her ability to reshape reality making her a target in almost every battle. During one such fight, when an enemy’s attack threatened to overwhelm her, you stepped in, using everything you had to protect her. “What are you doing?!” she shouted, her voice breaking as she watched you face the danger meant for her. Her chaos magic surged uncontrollably in response, red energy crackling in the air.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- After the fight, Wanda rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she checked for injuries. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her voice soft but laced with worry. When you explained that you couldn’t stand by and do nothing, her expression shifted to one of awe and guilt. “You’re incredible,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

- Back at the mansion, Wanda couldn’t seem to leave your side. She sat with you in the quiet of her room, her fingers tracing patterns in the air as she used her magic to soothe your aches. “I’ve always been the one who protects others,” she said softly. “But you… you’ve turned that upside down.” Her eyes met yours, filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite put into words.

- As days passed, Wanda’s feelings for you only deepened. She found herself opening up to you in ways she hadn’t with anyone else, sharing her fears and vulnerabilities. One evening, as you both watched the stars from the mansion roof, she took your hand in hers. “You make me feel safe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s not something I’m used to.”

- From then on, Wanda became fiercely protective of you, though she also began to trust in your strength. “We’re a team,” she said one day, her magic swirling around her fingers like a promise. “And I won’t let anything happen to you. Not ever.”

- Pietro was always the fastest, the one who could outmaneuver danger in the blink of an eye. So when a fight took a dangerous turn and you leaped in to protect him, he was stunned. “Are you crazy?!” he shouted, zipping over to your side as you deflected an attack meant for him. His silver hair was disheveled, and his blue eyes were wide with disbelief.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Even as the battle continued, Pietro couldn’t stop glancing at you, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with genuine concern. When the fight finally ended, he was by your side in an instant. “You know I can take care of myself, right?” he said, though his voice cracked slightly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

- Back at the mansion, Pietro couldn’t sit still. He paced back and forth in your room, occasionally stopping to check on you. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” he said, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. But when you teased him about being worried, he smirked, the tension breaking for just a moment. “Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, though his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

- Over the next few days, Pietro found himself sticking closer to you than usual. He’d zip in and out of rooms, checking on you, bringing you snacks, or just hanging around. One day, as he sat next to you, he finally said, “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” His voice was quieter than usual, and the look in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

- From then on, Pietro became even more protective of you, though he couldn’t resist teasing you about your heroic antics. “You’re lucky I like you,” he said one day, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Because no one else gets to scare me like that and live to tell the tale.”

- Emma was used to being the one who controlled situations, her sharp wit and psychic prowess leaving little room for vulnerability. During a battle, when an enemy’s attack zeroed in on her, she was caught off guard. Before she could react, you stepped in, using your abilities—or sheer determination—to protect her. “What on earth are you doing?” she snapped, her diamond form shimmering as she deflected the remnants of the attack. But beneath her icy tone, there was a flicker of shock and something softer.

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- After the battle, Emma confronted you immediately, her arms crossed and her piercing gaze fixed on you. “Do you make a habit of risking your life for others, or am I just that lucky?” she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. When you explained your actions, her expression softened for just a moment before she masked it with a smirk. “You’re either foolish or incredibly brave. I can’t decide which.”

- Over the next few days, Emma found herself replaying the moment in her mind. Despite her efforts to maintain her usual aloof demeanor, she couldn’t help but admire your courage. One evening, she invited you to her office under the guise of discussing strategy. “You’re surprisingly impressive,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “But don’t think for a second that I need saving.”

- As time passed, Emma’s walls began to crack, and she found herself drawn to you in ways she hadn’t anticipated. One night, as the two of you shared a rare quiet moment in the garden, she reached out and took your hand. “You make me feel… safe,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t say that lightly.”

- From then on, Emma became fiercely protective of you, though she expressed it in her own unique way. “You’re mine now,” she said one day, her tone both teasing and possessive. “So don’t think for a second that I’ll let anything happen to you.”

- Laura had always been the protector, her claws and instincts honed for battle. So when you jumped in to shield her during a fight, she was stunned. “What are you doing?!” she growled, her emerald eyes flashing with anger and concern. She quickly dispatched the enemy, then turned to you, her expression a mix of frustration and confusion. “You didn’t have to do that,” she muttered, though her voice was softer than usual.

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- After the fight, Laura couldn’t seem to leave your side. She hovered awkwardly, her protective instincts clashing with her feelings of guilt. “You’re reckless,” she said bluntly, her arms crossed as she tried to mask her worry. But when you smiled and told her it was worth it, her tough exterior cracked just a little. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

- Back at the mansion, Laura watched you like a hawk, her keen senses constantly on alert. She didn’t know how to process the fact that someone had risked themselves for her. “I don’t need saving,” she said one day, her voice quieter than usual. “But… thank you.” The words felt foreign on her tongue, but the sincerity in her eyes was unmistakable.

- Over time, Laura found herself drawn to your bravery and selflessness. She admired the way you faced danger without hesitation, even if it frustrated her to no end. One evening, as the two of you sat on the mansion roof, she finally opened up. “You mean more to me than I know how to say,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “But if you ever do something that reckless again, I’ll kill you myself.”

- From that moment on, Laura became fiercely protective of you, though she respected your independence. “We’re a team,” she said one day, her hand brushing yours. “But that doesn’t mean I’m letting you get hurt. Not if I can help it.”

- Wade was used to being the one who took the hits, his healing factor allowing him to shrug off injuries that would kill anyone else. So when you leaped in to protect him during a fight, he was utterly baffled. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Time out!” he shouted, pulling you behind him. “What are you doing? I’m the one who’s supposed to play human shield here!”

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- After the battle, Wade didn’t stop talking about your “heroic” actions. “Seriously, you’re like my own personal bodyguard! Except way cuter,” he quipped, his tone playful but laced with genuine concern. When you rolled your eyes and told him you couldn’t just stand by, he grinned. “Aw, you care about me! I’m touched. Like, emotionally. And probably physically later if I’m lucky.”

- Despite his jokes, Wade couldn’t hide how much your actions affected him. He started sticking closer to you, his usual chaotic energy tempered by an uncharacteristic protectiveness. “You know,” he said one day, tossing a chimichanga your way, “you’re kind of amazing. And not just because you’re willing to risk your life for a guy who looks like a melted candle.”

- Over time, Wade’s feelings for you grew deeper, though he still struggled to express them without humor. One night, as the two of you sat on a rooftop eating takeout, he finally got serious. “You’re the first person who’s made me feel like I’m worth something,” he said, his voice unusually quiet. “So, thanks for that. And also for being insanely hot.”

- From that point on, Wade became even more devoted to you, though he never stopped teasing you about your heroic antics. “You’re my favorite reckless hero,” he said one day, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “But let’s make a deal: next time, let me take the hits. I heal faster, and you’re way too pretty to mess up.”

[i-loved-silly]

(PART 2) - WOLVERINE x READER x DEADPOOL — fuckup twinsies

dp&w spoilers!! + slight gore description --- part 1

Okay, recap.

Your perfect little day in dimension-travel-jail was interrupted. You almost got knocked out by two muscular men who came down from the sky like little drunk angels, who in turn happened to be famous characters. You don't know how you didn't realize earlier, guess timeline hopping also slowly melts your brain. You should really get an MRI exam sometime.

You almost passed out again when you realized you were chest-to-chest with Deadpool. Wade Wilson. Heart to heart. Body to body. Tip to tip, if that applies to you.

"You're real. I'm real. We're real." You deadpanned, stars almost twinkling in your eyes. No, maybe it wasn't the first time you've met a Deadpool. But this guy? He was the real deal. The original. How the hell did an original end up here?

"Pfft, you thought we were just drawings on paper? Two of the world's sexiest men in skintight costumes? Wrong. We're the real deal here, friendo. Can I call you that? Or will you try to kill me? You know I really didn't mean to crash into you I rea--"

"Alright, listen here. Wade, shut up. You," Logan pointed a finger at him then at you, still being embraced by Wade. "Do you understand any of the...nonsense he's talking about? Because I don't, and I don't. Have. Time for this. It's either you help me get out of here or get out of my way."

"Woah woah woah, since when did that 'we' turn into 'me'?" Wade reluctantly let go of you to walk up to Logan, his hands landing on his hips. "You're not the only one trapped here, you know, we're kind of all in the same boat here. We all fucked up our lives and it was definitely our fault bu--ACK"

You gasped, watching in horror as three silver claws stabbed straight through Wade's torso and out his back. Logan stalked closer, his scowl deepening. "Come again?" He taunted, his teeth grinding. Before Wade could get a word out, Logan turned his hand, twisting the blades inside of him.

"G-owww, FUCK. God, I swear this happened differently in another universe. Somehow hurts more this ti--" Logan stopped him again and began lifting him up in the air. By the torso. With his claws inside, being the only thing holding him up.

Your eyes widened, "Hey, guys stop that! Logan!"  You yelled, taking a step forward, your hands held up in the air defensively.

Logan briefly glanced in your direction and grunted, tossing Wade to the side. “Move aside, bub. We need to settle some things.” Then he…lunged at Wade. They just started fucking fighting each other.

You backed up, watching everything go down. This could not be real. “I thought…you guys wanted out?” You muttered, your voice barely heard over their grunting and blades clashing.

“You know it’s true, so--argh, no hard feelings, right? Plus, I forgive you Wolvie.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you think, Wade. It’s all your fucking fault I was dragged into this. I was doing just fine without yo—“

“Just fine? You call spending all your days at bars and drinking all their supply just fine? While your life crumbles around you like a house of cards. If we were really on the TVA's watchlist, maybe they should've just sent us all to anger management sessions, huh?"

“Stop fighting!” You shouted in a voice heavy with irritation, grabbing a clump of sand from the ground and hurling it in their direction.

Logan, reacting instinctively, closed his eyes and shoved Wade aside, now choking and coughing violently. “What the hell?”

Simultaneously, Wade spun to face away, retching into the sand. “Oh god it’s inside of my mask. It’s in my face hole—“

Logan regained himself quicker than Wade, to where he immediately brushed aside the sand on his face and stomped towards you. You took a step back, by the sight of his fists clenched and white knuckles you swore he was about to beat you. “Waitwaitwait! I don’t have healing factor!” You rambled and held your hands out.

He paused in his tracks, his jaw visibly clenching as he tried to control his anger. Yeah, maybe he was used to taking out his frustrations on himself and now..Deadpool. But he couldn’t do that to you. You’re not even involved in whatever shit they got themselves into. You didn't deserve to get roped in their..mess, whatever it was. He let out an annoyed breath and swiveled away, seething internally. "I wasn't going to hurt you."

You slowly put your hands down, then looked around to see Wade still rolling on the floor. Upon hearing Logan, he snapped his head towards you both, the eyes of his mask widening. Before he could even get a little, tiny, miniscule word out, you spoke.

"ANYWAY...ehm..you both want out, yes? This is all one big mistake? I could help you. I've survived out here this long without being brutally killed." You forced a grin, facing the two. They blinked.

"Killed? What..who is in charge of killing here?" Logan narrowed his eyes.

Wade stood up to his feet, popping his wrist back into place. "There's--" His face under his mask soured, god he could still feel the sand particles crunching around between his teeth.

"ugh, there's others around? What kind of crazies would wanna live here?" He raised his arms, gesturing the vastness of this dystopian desert. Camera pans out, there's an echo to his voice, a tumbleweed passes by, you know what i mean

You scoffed, still very much salty about your own situation even though it's been years. "It's not like it was a choice. The only person could who take us out is Cassandra Nova, and she does not use her powers for that. She's basically with the freaking TVA, from what I know."

A singular laugh escaped Logan, his lips turning up in a knowing smirk, "Really now? How bad could she be?"

"Uh..let's see..multiple counts of murder, enslavement, power abuse, she's sadistic, evil, has a whole paragraph worth of powers. Unstoppable, basically?" You shrugged.

"I think we could get along."

"No, Wade."

"How do we get to her?" Logan crossed his arms. Perhaps he was the only one taking this seriously. You had gotten used to it already, but you too remembered how badly you wanted to leave this place at first.

"You two seem in a rush. "

"Yeah, well we're in a rush because I've got a whole-ass timeline to save, not to mention I also made a pinky swear to this guy over here. I promised the gruff-beard that I'd help him clean up his messy timeline, like a stain of last nights left ove-"

"Got it!" You exclaimed, interrupting him. "But uh, is that even possible? To..fix your guys' timelines, I mean."

"It better be," Logan glared at Wade. "Because otherwise, I'm going to tear you apart." He sneered, really making his point by leaning closer to him. These guys need to kiss already.

You nervously smiled. If another fight starts, you swear you were going to start ripping your own face off. "Okay! I know someone, guys! We'll all help eachother out, he's real nice, which means you probably won't like him--but he'll help! Follow me."

Oh, you knew someone alright. He was the most suburban-canadian guy you knew.

Lot's of dialogue in this, oops. This fic is kinda going off the plot of the movie, so I'm sure you know who you'll meet next! Leave ideas in the comments if you have any, since this fic is very freestyle and let me now...should i include the car scene we all wanted or too soon? GOODBYE! taglist <3 : @pink-jello-fish @radiantdanvers @superlegend216 @salted-snailz @wolfsune09 @jxssimae @remuslupinsfavoritebook @flannelforthetoads @rowanlovesmoonknight @bengewatch @i-shall-be-the-possum1 @kyriekurokami @marymustdie @tzurue @euinein @sophiemajokie @itsrainingtodayyy

[mcrdvcks]

had a thought about logan taking care of a drunk reader so here ya go

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, fem!reader, reader wears makeup, pet names (princess, sweetheart)

---

You, Jean, and Ororo stumbled back into the mansion after a night at the club. It usually wasn’t your thing—you preferred staying in bed and watching TV over going out—but you gave in to your friends' demands just this one night.

Laughing, Ororo kicked her shoes off in the hallway, collapsing onto the couch. "See? I told you it would be fun!" she teased, her eyes gleaming from the night’s excitement.

Jean nodded, leaning against the wall. “You’re gonna thank us tomorrow.”

"Maybe," you muttered, feeling the alcohol buzzing in your veins. You swayed slightly and caught yourself on the banister.

Before you could even take another step, Logan’s voice came from the end of the hallway. “What the hell did you get into, princess?”

You turned, squinting at him. “Logan!” you said, a little louder than you intended. A goofy smile tugged at your lips as you wobbled toward him, arms out like you were expecting a hug.

He crossed his arms, trying to suppress the smirk that was threatening to break through. “Jean, Ororo… thanks for getting her home in one piece.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow. “She’s your problem now,” she said, giving you a playful wink before heading up the stairs.

Jean just smiled and waved. “Good luck, Logan,” she said softly before disappearing after Ororo.

Logan took a few steps closer, catching you just as you stumbled again. “Whoa, easy there, sweetheart.”

You giggled, leaning into him, your head resting on his chest. “You’re so warm,” you mumbled, barely keeping your eyes open.

“Yeah, and you’re drunk,” he replied, his voice soft but teasing. He slid an arm around your waist, guiding you carefully toward the stairs. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

“Can’t I just sleep here?” you whined, pointing toward the couch.

“Nope. You’ll thank me for this tomorrow.” He began guiding you up the stairs, keeping a firm hold on you. “Come on, you can make it. Just a few more steps.”

You grumbled, “why are there so many stairs, Lo? Maybe Charles should get an elevator.”

Logan let out a quiet chuckle. “He already has one, princess. You’re just too drunk to notice.”

You rolled your eyes, nearly missing a step, but Logan's grip tightened, steadying you. “No way. You’re lying.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say,” he replied, guiding you toward your shared room. You finally reached the top of the stairs, and Logan nudged the door open with his foot.

You flopped onto the bed, face-first into the pillows. “See? I made it. Told ya I didn’t need help.”

Logan shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, sure, you’ve really got it all under control.” He knelt by the side of the bed, carefully untying your shoes.

You kicked your legs lazily. “I can do it myself,” you mumbled, though you made no effort to move.

“Uh-huh, I can see that,” he said, pulling off the last shoe and tossing it aside. “Now, let’s get you out of these clothes.”

Your eyes popped open, and you turned your head toward him with a teasing smirk. “Logan, if you wanted to get me naked, you just had to ask.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “As tempting as that sounds, sweetheart, I’m trying to keep you comfortable, not have you pass out in your club clothes.”

You pouted, but he ignored it, grabbing one of his old t-shirts from the dresser and tossing it to you. “Come on, get changed.”

With a dramatic sigh, you sat up, tugging your top over your head. Logan turned his back, giving you some privacy. “You’ve seen me naked before, y’know,” you teased.

“Not the point, princess,” he muttered, though you could tell he was biting back a smile.

After struggling to pull the shirt over your head, you collapsed back onto the bed. “Okay, done.”

Logan turned around and shook his head. “Close enough.” He walked to the bathroom with your pack of makeup wipes, pulling one out of the plastic, “c’mon, eyes closed. Atta girl.”

Logan gently wiped the makeup off your face, his touch surprisingly delicate for someone so rugged. You mumbled something incoherent, your eyes fluttering closed as he worked.

“Hold still, princess,” he said, shaking his head but smirking at how peaceful you looked now, compared to the chaotic night you’d had.

You hummed, your voice soft, “You’re too good to me, y’know?”

Logan let out a low chuckle. “You say that now, but wait 'til morning.”

Once he was done, he tossed the wipe in the trash and pulled the blankets up over you. “Alright, you're all set. Get some sleep.”

You grabbed his wrist before he could move away, tugging him toward the bed. “I want your shirt off,” you murmured.

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your grip on his wrist. “You sure that’s a good idea, princess?” he teased, though there was no real resistance in his voice.

You pouted up at him, eyes half-closed. “Logan… just come here.”

He sighed, shaking his head with a small smirk. “Alright, alright, fine.” He quickly tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it onto a nearby chair. His muscled chest was bathed in the dim light of the room, but he wasn’t making a show of it. “Happy now?”

You smiled sleepily, scooting over to give him room. “Yeah... now come lay with me.”

Logan hesitated for just a second, then slid into bed beside you. You immediately curled up against him, resting your head on his chest again. “You’re so warm,” you mumbled.

He chuckled softly, running a hand through your hair. “You already said that, sweetheart.”

“Mhm… still true.”

Logan's hand traced light circles on your back, his other arm tucked under his head. “You’re gonna regret this tomorrow, you know?”

You let out a quiet laugh, snuggling even closer. “No, I won’t… I have you to take care of me.” Your nails gently scratched along his chest, and his chest hair lightly tickled your face, but you didn’t care—it was comforting, familiar.

Logan’s hand continued its slow, soothing motions on your back. “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” he muttered, his voice soft. There was a warmth in it though, an affection he didn’t always show so easily.

You shifted slightly, finding an even cozier spot against him. “You smell good, too,” you mumbled sleepily.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re full of compliments tonight, aren’t you?”

“Mhm, just telling the truth,” you replied, your voice muffled against his chest. You could already feel yourself drifting, the alcohol and his presence lulling you into a peaceful haze. “You’re the best, Lo.”

He huffed, but you could hear the faint smile in his voice. “You’re not gonna remember saying all this tomorrow, princess.”

“Will too…” you mumbled, your words slurring slightly as your exhaustion started to take over.

Logan shifted slightly beside you, pulling the blankets up a little higher over your shoulder. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered under his breath. “Just get some sleep.”

You hummed softly, already on the verge of sleep. “Lo?”

“Yeah?” Logan replied, his hand never stopping the gentle motions on your back.

You paused for a second, your eyes half-open now, barely processing your thoughts. “Can I have a kiss goodnight?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking down at you with an amused smirk. “You’re really pullin’ out all the stops tonight, huh, princess?”

You giggled, nudging his chest lightly. “Just one... please?”

He sighed, though there was no real resistance behind it. “Alright, one kiss. Then you’re sleepin', got it?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes already closing again. Logan leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Nooo.” You whined softly, “want one here.” You sleepily tapped his bottom lip, eyes barely open, but that teasing smirk still on your face.

Logan sighed, shaking his head slightly, though his lips twitched with a hint of a smile. “You’re a handful tonight, princess.”

He leaned down, hovering just over your lips for a second, his breath warm against your skin. “One kiss,” he murmured before softly pressing his lips to yours, the kiss gentle and brief but enough to satisfy your sleepy demand.

When he pulled back, you let out a contented sigh, snuggling back into his chest. “Told you… the best,” you mumbled, already starting to drift off again.

Logan chuckled quietly, wrapping his arm around you a little tighter. “Yeah, yeah, go to sleep now.”

You didn’t respond this time, your breathing already slowing, your body relaxed and heavy against his. Logan watched you for a moment, his expression softening as he ran a hand through your hair again, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“Get some rest, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss to the top of your head. Then he settled back, keeping you close as you both finally drifted into sleep.

[sykoangels]

Oh, Professor?

paring: mutant!reader x professor!logan

warning: age gap (everyone is 18+) slight dubcon and kissing

notes: something about Professor Logan makes me giggle and kick my feet!! I wanted to start a series so this is part one please tell me what y’all think! Let me know if you want a part two!!

PART TWO IS OUT NOW!!

The clock on Logan's desk ticked loudly, each second dragging like a reluctant participant in an unwanted march. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a single desk lamp that cast long shadows across the worn wooden floor. Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the stack of papers before him. His brow was furrowed, and his jaw clenched as he reviewed the latest batch of assignments from his students. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be doing this, but Charles had made it clear: teach or leave. And leaving meant no more free booze, no more sanctuary

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t look up, just grunted in acknowledgment. The door creaked open, and a familiar scent wafted into the room—something floral, yet earthy, like wildflowers after a rainstorm. Logan’s heart skipped a beat, though he’d never admit it to anyone. “Professor Logan?” Y/N’s voice was soft, tentative, but there was a hint of something else beneath the surface—a sense boldness simmering.

Logan finally looked up, meeting her gaze. She stood in the doorway, her hair in a slick ponytail not a single hair was out place besides the strains of hair framing her face perfectly. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, and her lips were curved into a small, almost shy smile. She wore a simple baby blue dress with a small bow on the collar. The dress that clung to her curves in all the right places, and Logan felt a surge of something he hadn’t felt in years—desire, mixed with a heavy dose of guilt.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice gruff. “What do you need?”

Y/N stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. The click of the latch echoed in the silence between them. “I was wondering if I could get extra help with the calculus assignment. I’m having a bit of trouble with the derivatives.” Y/N mentioned softly looking at the math sheet Logan handed out during class. The paper has some eraser marks and scribbles of some problem-solving work already etched into the paper. Logan raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. She was one of his top students, always acing his tests and assignments. He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt maybe she didn’t understand some of the problems. It was duty as a professor to help her? Right?

He sighed, pushing the stack of papers aside and patting the chair right next to him. “Alright, come sit down. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Y/N walked over to the chair opposite his desk, her movements graceful and deliberate. She sat down, crossing her legs and placing her notebook on the desk. Logan couldn’t help but notice how her dress rode up slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of thigh. He forced himself to focus, opening her notebook and scanning the pages

“Show me where you’re stuck bub,” he said, trying to keep his tone professional. She pointed to a problem halfway down the page. “Right here, I can’t seem to figure out the chain rule for this one.” Logan leaned closer adjusting their reading glasses, his breath hitching as he caught a whiff of her perfume. He cleared his throat, reaching for a pen and starting to explain. As he spoke, he noticed her eyes drifting, not to the paper, but to his hands. They were large, calloused, and rough—hands that had seen countless battles, hands that could crush bone with ease. But now, they moved with surprising delicacy, writing equations on the paper with precision.

“You understand so far bub? You know if you’re confused just stop me alright.” he asked, glancing up. Y/N’s eyes snapped back to his, and she nodded quickly. “Yeah, I think so.” Logan continued, explaining the concept in more detail, but his mind was elsewhere. He could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken desire that neither of them dared to acknowledge. When he finished, he looked at her expectantly.

“Think you can handle it now? Try this problem by yourself bub.” Logan said pointing at one of the problems at the bottom of the sheet. Y/N hesitated, biting her lower lip. “Maybe… I think I might need you to explain once more. It’s just math isn’t my strong suit.” Y/N says looking at Logan Logan sighed inwardly. He knew where this was heading, and part of him—the part that still remembered what it was like to be young and reckless—wanted to indulge her. But the other part, the responsible part, the part that knew better, wanted to send her away and forget this ever happened.

“Alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s go through it one more time.” As he leaned in to point out another aspect of the problem, their faces were mere inches apart. The warmth of her breath brushed against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He could see the pulse fluttering in her neck, the way her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes.

And then, without warning, Y/N reached out, her hand gently brushing against his. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of arousal through him. Logan froze, his breath catching in his throat. “Professor…” she whispered, her voice trembling Logan’s heart pounded in his chest, every instinct screaming at him to pull away, to put an end to this madness. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. The room seemed to shrink around them, the world outside fading into nothingness. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

Y/N leaned closer, her lips parted slightly, her breath warm against his cheek. Logan’s mind raced, torn between duty and desire, between what was right and what he desperately wanted. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, the subtle curve of her breasts pressing against his chest as she closed the distance between them. Subsequently, just as their lips were about to meet, a sharp knock sounded at the door, jolting them both back to reality. Logan jerked away, his heart pounding in his ears. Y/N’s hand fell from his, and she quickly straightened her dress, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Come in!” Logan called out, his voice strained. The door opened, and Jean poked her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, Logan, but you have a phone call. It’s urgent.” Logan nodded, grateful for the interruption, even if it came at the worst possible moment. “I’ll be right there.” Jean disappeared, and Logan turned back to Y/N, who was already gathering her things. Y/N avoided his gaze, her face a mask of confusion and regret.

“I should go,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. Logan watched as Y/N hurried to the door, her movements jerky and uncertain. He wanted to say something, to stop her, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he remained silent, his mind reeling from the near-miss encounter. As the door clicked shut behind her, Logan let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. What the hell had just happened? He knew he should feel guilty, ashamed even, but all he felt was a deep, aching need that refused to be ignored.

As he sat at his desk staring at the empty doorway, he realized that this was only the beginning.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : IMAGINE TAKING CARE OF OLDMAN!LOGAN AFTER HE COMES HOME FROM A VERY EXHAUSTED DAY AT WORK : :;

Logan staggered through the door, shoulders hunched, his body weighed down with the weariness of another hard day. His face was a mask of exhaustion, but when his tired eyes found you, standing in the kitchen, they softened just a little. The scent of dinner filled the air, something warm, something familiar. You walked over, meeting him halfway, and without a word, you placed a hand on his chest, guiding him gently to the table.

"Sit," you said softly, your voice carrying a tenderness he didn't realize he needed. "I made your favorite."

He collapsed into the chair, letting out a grunt as he did, the tension in his body uncoiling just slightly. The sight of the meal, cooked just for him, made something in his chest loosen.

"You didn’t have to do all this," he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual sharpness. It was soft, almost grateful.

"I wanted to," you replied, setting a plate in front of him before sitting beside him. "You deserve a break, Logan."

He dug into the meal with slow, deliberate movements, too tired to say much more. You sat in quiet companionship, the warmth of the food and the presence of each other bringing a kind of peace neither of you spoke about but both felt.

After dinner, you caught his eye as he leaned back in the chair, hand rubbing his bearded chin. “That thing’s getting a little wild,” you teased, giving him a soft smile.

He huffed a small laugh. “Can’t seem to find the time.”

“Come on, let me help.”

You led him to the bathroom, where he sat heavily in front of the mirror. Taking the clippers, you began trimming his beard, your movements slow and careful. His eyes drifted shut under your touch, his body finally giving in to the calm you brought him. There was a vulnerability in the air—something raw in the way he let you care for him.

When you were done, you set the clippers aside and brushed a thumb across his freshly trimmed jaw. He caught your wrist, his rough hand holding you there for a moment as he opened his eyes and looked at you, gratitude swimming beneath the surface.

“Thanks,” he murmured, voice gruff.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered back, kissing his forehead lightly.

You helped him out of his clothes next, peeling off the grime and weight of the day. He let you undress him, too tired to resist or feel self-conscious about how much he needed you in this moment. You led him to the shower, the warm water cascading over him as you helped wash away the day. Your hands worked gently across his tired body, massaging the tension from his muscles, careful with the scars that told stories of battles past.

When he stepped out, clean and refreshed, you were waiting with a towel, wrapping him up and guiding him toward the bed. He sank into the mattress, eyes heavy with fatigue, but there was a softness in his gaze that hadn’t been there earlier. You climbed in beside him, pressing your body against his, running a hand across his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

“You’re always taking care of me,” Logan said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how you do it.”

You pressed soft kisses to his temple, then his jaw, feeling the freshly trimmed scruff beneath your lips. “Because I love you,” you murmured. “And because you deserve it. You work so hard, Logan. You carry so much.”

His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as your lips traced the line of his neck, your breath warm against his skin. You felt the tension in his body melt as you continued your gentle touches, your words coming out as a soft whisper. “You have no idea how proud I am of you.”

His grip on your waist tightened as you kissed your way down his chest, each kiss carrying the weight of your love and admiration. His breath hitched slightly, and his eyes fluttered open, catching yours in the dim light.

"Let me show you just how proud I am," you whispered, your voice low, filled with promise.

Logan’s eyes darkened, a mix of exhaustion and desire swirling in them as you slid your hand down his body, your touch deliberate, teasing. His lips parted, but he said nothing, just watching you with that raw, vulnerable look. You moved over him, your lips brushing his with a tenderness that made his breath hitch again, and when you finally deepened the kiss, he responded, his tired body awakening under your touch.

“You’ve done enough today,” you murmured against his lips. “Let me take care of the rest.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Logan let himself go, surrendering completely to you, to the love and the care you offered him.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes

I LOVE LOVE LOVE OLDMAN!LOGAN 🫶

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

Also, part 5 of ‘Stay With Me’ will air tomorrow! So stay tuned y’all!

(If you have any requests, feel free to drop them in my inbox or send me a message)

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

day twelve: somnophilia | NSFW MDNI 18+

The mansion was quiet, all the students long since tucked into their beds, the halls dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the tall pane windows. This was the time you always liked the most—when the hectic energy of the day faded and the quiet moments with Logan began.

For the past few months, sneaking into Logan’s room at night had become a ritual of sorts. It wasn’t anything sexual—just platonic comfort. You’d climb into his bed, curl up against his strong, solid frame, and let the warmth of his body lull you into a peaceful sleep. Logan didn’t mind. He never questioned why you did it; maybe because he craved the closeness, too. There was a quiet understanding between the two of you, unspoken yet perfectly clear.

Tonight was no different. You’d slipped through the darkened hallways, past the other students' rooms, and gently tapped on his door. He opened it without a word, stepping aside to let you in. You climbed into his bed, feeling the familiar softness of the sheets and the instant comfort of being wrapped in Logan’s arms.

He was the big spoon, as always, and you nestled into his chest, his steady breathing becoming your lullaby. Logan had always been like a protector to you, and it was in these moments that you felt the safest, cocooned by his presence. Within minutes, your eyelids grew heavy, and sleep claimed you.

But tonight, sleep wasn’t the reprieve it usually was. As you drifted into the depths of slumber, your dreams began to take a different turn. Flashes of heat, of desire, of need coursed through your subconscious. You dreamed of Logan—not the way you usually did, but in ways that made your breath hitch, your body tingle, and your core clench with a deep, aching want.

Unconsciously, you shifted in his arms, pressing your body closer to him. A small, needy whimper escaped your lips.

You shifted again, unconsciously grinding against Logan’s front as the wet dream intensified, your body acting on instincts buried deep in your subconscious. Your soft moans broke the silence of the room, and Logan, who had been lightly dozing, blinked awake at the sensation of your hips moving against him.

At first, he froze, confused, trying to understand what was happening. But as your small whimpers filled the quiet night, it became clear that you weren’t awake—you were still dreaming. His sharp senses didn’t miss the subtle scent of your arousal lingering in the air. His mind whirled—this was different. You had always just been close friends, cuddling for comfort. But now, with you pressing against him, your body so warm and needy in his arms, something inside him stirred that he hadn’t let himself acknowledge before.

Logan’s heart pounded in his chest as he felt you arch your back, pressing your ass harder against his groin. He could feel his body reacting, heat pooling low in his stomach as the situation unfolded. His hand tightened on your hip, the rough pads of his fingers gripping the fabric of your sleep shorts. A part of him wanted to wake you up, to stop this before it went too far—but then you moaned again, his name slipping past your lips in a breathy sigh.

"Logan…"

That single word, spoken so vulnerably, ignited something inside him. He swallowed hard, his body tense, trying to fight the wave of desire surging through him. You weren’t awake—didn’t even know what you were doing. But you were so responsive, so needy. His rational mind struggled to push the thought away, but the way you moved against him, your hips instinctively rolling to meet his growing hardness, made his self-control waver.

He leaned down, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispered hoarsely, "Darlin’, you have no idea what you're doin', do ya?"

You didn’t respond, too deep in your dream to hear him. Logan’s hand slipped from your hip to your stomach, his thumb grazing the edge of your shorts. His other hand gently brushed the hair away from your face, his touch soft despite the conflict raging inside him.

He let out a low growl, his body betraying him as he felt himself harden completely against your backside. Your whines only encouraged him further, the friction building as your hips pressed and rocked in a desperate rhythm, entirely unaware of the effect you were having on him.

“Fuck,” Logan cursed under his breath, his restraint slipping more and more with every little sound you made. He could feel how wet you were through the thin fabric of your shorts, and the sensation sent a surge of primal need through him.

"Such a naughty girl… dreamin' of me like this," he muttered, barely recognizing his own voice. His hand slid lower, brushing over the waistband of your shorts, teasing the edge of your panties, testing the boundaries he was so close to crossing.

You moaned again, your head lolling back against his shoulder as if offering yourself to him even more. Logan’s fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. He could feel how soaked you were, and it took everything in him not to groan at the sensation.

"Wake up, sweetheart," he whispered against your ear, his voice thick with desire. But you didn’t stir, still lost in your dream, grinding against him as though your body knew exactly what it wanted. His hand moved on its own, slipping under the thin fabric of your panties and finding your slick folds.

The sound that escaped you when his fingers brushed your clit was pure, breathless pleasure. Your hips jerked, pressing into his hand, seeking more of the touch you’d been dreaming of.

"That’s it, darlin'," Logan rasped, his voice rough, "Show me what you want…"

He circled your clit slowly, teasing you, watching as your body responded to every touch, every flick of his fingers. You were still dreaming, completely unaware of his actions—but the way you moved, the way your body arched into his hand, told him everything he needed to know.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby," he growled, pressing his lips against your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

Your breath hitched, and Logan could feel you trembling in his arms, so close to the edge. He rubbed slow circles over your clit, dipping his fingers lower to feel just how wet you were for him. His cock throbbed against your ass, the need to bury himself inside you nearly overwhelming.

But he held back—barely. He wanted to watch you come apart first, to feel your release in his hand before anything else. "Come for me, darlin’," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear, "I know you’re close."

With one last stroke, your body tensed, and a broken moan spilled from your lips as you came, your walls pulsing around nothing, your arousal soaking his fingers. Logan groaned low in his throat, feeling the intensity of your orgasm as it washed over you, your body shaking in his arms.

You slowly blinked awake, the haze of sleep fading as you realized where you were—what you’d been doing. You gasped, eyes wide, but Logan held you close, his lips still against your ear, his fingers still buried between your thighs.

"Don’t worry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a mix of comfort and desire, "I gotcha. Just relax."

You could feel his erection pressing against you, hard and insistent, and the realization of what had just happened made your heart race. But the heat in his eyes, the possessive way he held you… it made you shiver with anticipation.

There was no way you were going back to sleep now.

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[shybluebirdninja]

Feral Obssession

Summary: Logan's animal instincts go wild when Deadpool casually mentions how often you pass by his place—now Logan needs to see for himself.

Pairing            : Worst-Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Prostitute!Fem-reader

Note                : smut, cum play, very rough sex

WORD COUNT: 3k

Logan’s been living with Wade Wilson for a while now, something that would usually drive him to stab something—or someone—on a good day. Between Wade's non-stop mouth and Blind Al’s random pranks, Logan’s patience had worn thin. But lately, it’s not Wade's annoying chatter or Blind Al’s sarcastic remarks keeping him on edge. It’s you.

Wade had mentioned you in passing more than once. Apparently, you walked past their place all the time—coming home late at night, dressed to kill, a body that turned heads wherever you went. And yeah, Wade had made some dirty joke about what you did for a living. But Logan… he couldn’t shake the image from his head. He had to see for himself.

One night, it finally happened. You walked by just as Logan was outside, smoking a cigar on the fire escape. His eyes tracked your movements automatically, almost like a predator on the hunt, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You were in tight jeans that hugged every curve, your top clinging to your body like a second skin. Goddamn, you were something.

And the worst part? You glanced up at him, just for a second, a sly smile teasing your lips before you disappeared into your apartment across the hall. That smile. It stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time—something primal, something dangerous.

Days passed, and every time you passed by, Logan’s instincts got sharper. It was like he could smell you in the air, a heady mix of perfume and something uniquely you. He tried to ignore it, to push it aside. He’d been down this road before, and it never ended well. But damn it, he couldn’t.

One evening, as Logan sat brooding with a whiskey in hand, Wade strolled in, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.

“Hey, Peanut,” Wade started, flipping onto the couch with all the grace of a drunk cat. “You know that smokin’ hot neighbor of ours? The one with the legs for days? She asked about you today.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “The hell’re you talking about, Wade?”

“I’m serious, man! Said she’d noticed you staring like a lovesick puppy. Thought you might want to… you know… get to know her better.” Wade waggled his eyebrows obnoxiously. “You into that kinda thing? ‘Cause I might’ve, uh… mentioned you.”

Logan felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t say anything, just shot Wade a look that could’ve peeled paint. But inside, his mind was racing. You noticed him?

“Come on, man,” Wade continued. “She’s into you. And trust me, with a body like that, she could break you in half.”

Logan grunted, trying to keep his cool. He didn’t want to talk to Wade about this, but something stirred inside him, something he couldn’t shake. Maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

Later that night, Logan found himself standing outside your door, hesitating for the briefest moment. Then, with a deep breath, he knocked.

The door swung open, and there you were. That same teasing smile played on your lips as your eyes met his.

“Logan,” you greeted smoothly, leaning against the doorframe, your voice a sultry purr. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, well… Wade’s a pain in the ass,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “But he wasn’t wrong about you.”

You chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “So, you’ve been watching me, huh? Thought I’d noticed those eyes of yours burning a hole through my clothes.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, and for the first time, he stepped closer, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. “Can’t help it, darlin’. You make it hard not to look.”

You bit your lip, the air thick with heat. “Wanna come in?”

The door closed behind him with a soft click. Inside, it was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls, but the atmosphere was anything but quiet. Logan could feel it in the air, thick with lust, desire coursing through his veins like a drug. He didn’t need to think. He didn’t need to talk. His instincts took over.

“Logan,” you whispered, stepping closer, your hands trailing up his chest. His muscles were solid beneath your touch, his breath catching just slightly. He was so controlled, so contained… but you could feel the raw power beneath the surface.

His hand caught your wrist, gentle but firm. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, dangerous but full of need.

You smirked, eyes gleaming with challenge. “I’ve been sure since I first saw you on that fire escape.”

That was all it took. In a blur of motion, Logan’s lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies pressed together, every touch igniting something deeper, something feral.

His hands roamed over your body, rough but skilled, like he knew exactly how to touch you. You gasped as his fingers trailed down your back, pulling you even closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the restraint, like he was holding himself back from just tearing your clothes off.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire. “Don’t hold back.”

That was all he needed to hear. In one swift motion, he had you against the wall, his mouth hot against your neck, his breath heavy and ragged. His hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, his lips trailing down your chest, leaving a burning path in their wake.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed and bit his way across your skin, his body pressing harder against yours. You could feel the hunger in him, the need, and it mirrored your own. It was like you were feeding off each other, every kiss, every touch building the tension higher and higher.

Before you knew it, you were on the bed, Logan above you, his eyes dark and wild with lust. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he needed you to breathe.

And then, with a growl, he gave in.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself inside you with one deep, slow thrust. The feeling was electric, your body arching against him as you gasped for air. He didn’t move at first, just stayed there, holding you close, his forehead resting against yours as he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You couldn’t respond. You could barely think. All you could feel was him—inside you, around you, filling you completely.

Logan's body moved with precision, each thrust deep and slow, making your breath hitch with every movement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, grounding him as he pressed into you, his rough palms hot against your skin. You could feel the restrained power beneath his muscles, the tension winding tighter and tighter with every second. The air was thick with lust, and you could barely focus on anything except the feeling of him inside you, your body arching up to meet his, desperate for more.

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath heavy and ragged, filled with low growls that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, but it was clear he was losing control too. His restraint was unraveling fast, and you wanted to see him give in completely.

You gasped his name, nails digging into his back as his hips moved faster, the slow burn turning into something more desperate. The feeling was overwhelming, your mind fogging over as pleasure coursed through you, and you could barely form words. But then, he stopped—just for a moment, pulling back, his breath harsh in the silence of the room.

Before you could ask what he was doing, Logan gripped your hips tighter and flipped you over onto your stomach in one swift, effortless move. You gasped, bracing yourself on your hands and knees, and before you could fully adjust, you felt his hands slide down your back, rough fingertips tracing the curve of your ass as he positioned himself behind you. The heat of his body hovered over yours, close but not quite touching, teasing you with his proximity.

Without warning, he thrust back into you, deep and rough this time, making you moan out loud. Your hands gripped the sheets as he set a rhythm, pounding into you from behind, each movement powerful and deliberate. Logan's growls became more primal, echoing in the room as his hips slapped against yours. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back slightly so you could hear the rumble in his voice, feel his breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his words dripping with lust, each syllable punctuated by another hard thrust. The angle was deeper, rougher, and you could barely catch your breath as the pleasure intensified, building in waves that made your whole body tremble.

“Logan,” you moaned his name, unable to hold back the sounds escaping your lips. The sensation of his cock filling you over and over, the way he moved, every part of him screamed dominance, but there was something more behind it—something raw and hungry. It was like he needed you, couldn’t get enough of you, and you fed off that need.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your back. You barely had time to register the change before he was on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress as his lips found yours again in a heated, desperate kiss. His hands roamed your body, gripping your thighs, pulling your legs up around his waist as he positioned himself over you.

Logan’s eyes locked with yours, dark and wild, filled with a kind of intensity that made your heart race. “I want you to look at me when you come,” he growled, voice thick with lust. And then, with one powerful thrust, he was inside you again, filling you completely.

This time, it was missionary, and his movements were slower, more deliberate again, but every thrust hit deeper, the angle perfect. You could feel every inch of him, the heat between your bodies overwhelming as he moved inside you. His lips found your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there, making you gasp and arch into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“You like that, don’t ya?” he muttered against your skin, his voice a low rumble. “Tell me.”

“Yes, Logan… God, yes,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure built again, even more intense than before.

Logan grinned against your neck, his lips trailing down to your chest, his mouth hot against your skin as his pace quickened, his hips driving into you harder now. The angle was perfect, every thrust hitting just right, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His body moved like a machine, powerful and relentless, but there was something deeply intimate about the way he looked at you, the way his hands gripped your hips, holding you close as he took you over the edge.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he groaned, his eyes dark and locked on yours. “Come for me.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your nails digging into his back as the orgasm hit, waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you gasping for breath. Logan’s movements didn’t slow down, his hips still driving into you, prolonging your climax until you were trembling beneath him, completely spent.

Before you could catch your breath, he moved again, shifting you onto your side, your legs tangled together as he pressed against you from behind, his cock still buried deep inside you. His hand slid down your body, gripping your thigh and pulling it over his hip as he thrust into you again, this time slower, deeper, more intimate.

You moaned softly, the sensation overwhelming as he moved inside you from this new angle, his body pressed tightly against yours. His hand slid up your stomach, over your chest, fingers brushing your breasts as he held you close, his breath hot against your ear.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice rough and filled with need. “I could do this all night.”

Logan’s hand slid down your body again, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles as he thrust into you, his pace picking up again. The sensation was too much, and before you knew it, the pressure was building again, another orgasm rising up inside you, ready to explode.

“Logan… I’m gonna…”

“I know,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again. I wanna feel you.”

And with one last thrust, you did.

Logan’s grip on your thigh tightened as you trembled beneath him, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm. His pace hadn’t slowed at all, if anything, it was faster now, more primal, more needy. You could feel it in the way he grunted, the way his hands dug into your skin, like he was barely holding himself back.

“Fuck… you’re gonna make me lose it,” Logan growled, his voice so rough it almost vibrated through your body. He thrust harder, deeper, as if he was trying to pull every ounce of pleasure from you, driving you into a state where you were too lost to even think.

His hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, almost possessive in the way he gripped you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his breath hot in your ear, and the sheer power radiating off him made you feel small in his arms—but in the best way.

“Goddamn it…,” he muttered, and you could feel the tension in his whole body. The muscles in his arms were flexed, veins popping out as he held onto you, like you were the only thing keeping him from coming undone.

His lips brushed against your neck, biting down softly as he pushed into you one last time, deep and hard, holding himself there as a deep growl rumbled from his chest. You could feel the moment he finally gave in, the way his whole body shuddered against yours as he came, the heat of his release filling you, spilling out in hot waves.

Logan’s growl turned into a soft groan, his hips jerking slightly as the last of his control slipped away. For a moment, he didn’t move, just held you there, buried deep inside you, his breath heavy and rough in your ear. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, erratic and wild.

Slowly, his grip on you loosened, his body relaxing as the intensity of the moment began to fade. His lips found the back of your neck again, this time softer, more tender, as he let out a deep sigh, still holding you close.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “That was… fuckin' intense.”

You smiled, still trying to catch your breath, your body trembling with aftershocks. Logan finally pulled out of you, rolling onto his back beside you, his chest still rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. His hand reached over, resting on your hip, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin as the two of you lay there, tangled in the sheets.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the room still thick with the heat of what just happened. You could feel Logan’s eyes on you, but when you glanced over, his gaze was softer, more thoughtful.

You turned to him, smiling lazily, still feeling the afterglow of everything. “Guess Wade was right, huh?” you teased, your voice playful, but Logan just grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Fuckin' Wade,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Bastard won’t shut up about this, will he?”

You laughed, the sound light in the quiet room, and Logan’s lips curved into a small smirk. There was a softness in his expression now, the rough edges smoothed out by the aftermath of it all, but even so, there was still that unmistakable Logan—fierce, untamed, and completely irresistible.

Logan shifted beside you, pulling you closer into his chest, wrapping his arm around you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. His warmth was comforting, and for once, you could feel the tension in him ease, as if, for now, he could just be in the moment with you.

You were still catching your breath, body limp against the sheets, when you felt Logan shift beside you.

And then, with a low, deep growl, Logan dipped his fingers into the wet heat where his cum was still dripping from you.

You shuddered, the sensation sending another jolt of pleasure through your overstimulated body. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, overwhelmed, but then you felt him lift his hand, slick with the evidence of what he’d left inside you.

He smirked, his fingers glistening with his release, and before you could say anything, he pressed them against your chest—right between your breasts. Slowly, deliberately, he smeared it across your skin, leaving a hot, wet trail in his wake. His touch was rough, teasing, and the way his eyes followed every movement made it even hotter.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice husky and low, almost like he was admiring his own handiwork. His hand slid higher, spreading the warmth across your chest, smearing his cum all over your skin, marking you with it. “Fuckin' perfect.”

Your breath hitched as he dragged his fingers down again, leaving no inch untouched. The way he moved was deliberate, slow, making sure you felt every second of it. The heat of his release mixed with the sweat already clinging to your skin, and the sight of Logan watching you, his gaze dark and possessive, only made you ache for more.

He leaned down, his mouth just barely brushing against your ear. “Mine,” he growled softly, his voice rough with need. “You’re mine.”

[disneyprincemuke]

look after you * fem!driver

the heat of the qatar race alongside her period proved to be much more than she can handle; although she doesn’t tell anybody that

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver, alex albon x fem!driver, carlos sainz x fem!driver, charles leclerc x fem!driver

warnings: mentions of period, not feeling well

notes: hi i told u we're back to regularly scheduled fem!driver content... although, i do have a plan for something else later tonight! i also seem to be getting over my writer's block, sOOO WE SHOULD BE GOOD TO GO WITH THE REST OF MY FICS

also, i'm very curious where u guys think i'm from because i'm awake at the most ludicrous of hours answering asks and messages so like idk

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

she sits back in her seat, eyes darting all over the garage as mechanics and engineers scramble around to prepare her car for the race later today.

the sprint race yesterday was just as excruciating as she expected. the heat, the intensity of the race, and the fact that she's suddenly got her period was not a good mix as it proves.

she barely survived the duration of the sprint yesterday. she was visibly pale climbing out of her car, chest heaving and makeup melting off as she took her helmet off. it didn't take long for sebastian to catch on to her state when she entered the garage after weigh-in.

"kid," sebastian stops right in front of her, head tilted to the side in concern. he's got a cold can of pepsi in his hands when she looks up. "are you feeling okay? you don't have to race today if you're not well."

"no, i'm fine," she nods, taking the pepsi into her hands. she smiles up at him weakly as she sips on the straw. "i'm okay."

"well, you didn't look very okay yesterday," sebastian frowns. "don't be pressured to race tonight if you don't feel like it. your safety is more important than the race and it's unbelievably hot here tonight."

she shakes her head, slowly getting up as she remembers the drivers' parade that she has to attend. "i can definitely race today. i promise i'm fine," she reassures him with a pat to his shoulder. "i just need more pepsi to feel refreshed."

"you've got to drink water at some point for hydration," sebastian mutters. "i've got some in the freezer for before the race. drink it, okay?"

she grins at him with a thumbs up, slowly exiting the garage. "i will drink the ice cold water."

when she turns around to walk towards where other drivers have gathered, she backs into somebody's body, making her whirl around with an apology on her lips.

"i'm so sorry!"

"oh, it's alright!" a familiar giggle fills her ears and a hand comes up to her shoulder to offer some support. when she turns around, alex is smiling down at her as he steps aside to walk with her. "oh, your hair is up in a ponytail today. is something wrong?"

"what?" she's taken aback by the question - why is her ponytail such a big deal? "what about the ponytail?"

"i've just never seen you bring your hair up before on a race weekend," alex frowns, tugging at a strand of hair gently. “you look cute. and- oh, no makeup today?”

she shakes her head with a frown. “the heat practically melted my makeup off yesterday. that shit’s expensive and uncomfortable,” she mutters, bottom lip out in a pout as they walk.

when they approach the small group gathered by the pit lane, she’s greeted by oscar’s surprised gasp and carlos’s confused head tilt.

she lifts her arms, palms into the sky as she throws them a scowl. “what?”

carlos tears his eyes away immediately, but oscar maintains his gaze on her. “you’re not wearing any makeup.”

“yeah, so?”

oscar furrows his eyebrows and turns his body away from her. “nothing, just odd. you typically like doing your makeup.”

“it’s too hot to do my makeup,” she sighs, not liking that she has to repeat herself. “it practically melted off during yesterday’s sprint.”

“that’s true. comfort over anything else,” carlos nods with an approving smile. “please remember to drink some water later.”

“you and seb are so alike,” she grins, patting the spaniard’s shoulder. “that’s exactly what he told me earlier.”

“yeah, because everyone knows you don’t drink water when you’ve got,” oscar snatches the drink in her hand, “a pepsi in your hand. so unhealthy.”

“well, it makes me feel so sparkly in my mouth,” she fights back, snatching it back. “mind your own drink!”

“what’s u– you look different today,” logan says, slowly approaching the circle. with a hand on the small of her back, he tilts his head slightly as he scans her face. “is it the hair?”

“no, mate,” oscar smirks, “she didn’t do her makeup.”

“oh! how come?” logan frowns, pinching her cheek. “i was wondering why you hadn’t sent a selfie to the groupchat yet begging for compliments.”

“yeah, true,” oscar chuckles. “that does seem to be a trend, doesn’t it?”

“you guys get selfies for free?” carlos frowns. “she always asks me to pay like a thousand every weekend i ask her what she’s wearing to the paddocks.”

“only a thousand? she asks me for millions,” alex finally speaks again with the shake of his head. “what a business woman you are.”

carlos raises an eyebrow. “all jokes aside though… you are looking a bit pale. are you feeling okay?”

she smiles, a thumbs up raised next to her face. “of course!”

“mate, you don’t look very well,” she mutters, sipping on her pepsi as she approaches logan. “the flu still got you bad?”

“pretty bad,” logan sighs, slumping his shoulders. “but i’ll be alright.”

she hums, pressing her lips together as she looks at him from the side of her eye. “i’m not sure if i believe you, actually.”

“if anyone’s more of a liar between us, it’s you,” he puts his hands on his hips, “you look worse than i do and you just keep insisting you’re fine

“is it because i’ve not got makeup on?” she scowls at him, winding her hand back to smack him on the shoulder.

“what?” he cries incredulously, throwing his head back in shock. “where’d you get that? i didn’t even say anything about the makeup!”

“it’s just such a coincidence that everyone’s saying i look sick without makeup on.”

“it’s really not that. you just don’t look like you’re coping well with the heat.”

“oh, cause god forbid a woman sweats.”

“i literally didn’t even say that.”

“you may as well have.”

“you’re crazy.”

“you guys are driving me crazy with all these questions.”

“cut it out,” oscar scolds, coming up from behind them. he steps between their bodies and separates them. “grid kids are coming. please behave.”

“he said i look sick because i didn’t have makeup on,” she mutters, pointing at logan.

“i said she doesn’t look like she’s coping well with the heat! i never said anything about the lack of makeup!” logan answers hurriedly, leaning forward to scowl at her from oscar’s side. “will you tell her to cut it out?”

“tell him to stop telling me i look sick!”

“okay,” oscar says, hands up as she stops speaking. he turns to logan. “stop aggravating her — you already know what’s pissing her off, so stop bringing it up and asking her.”

then, he turns to the girl with narrowed down eyes. “and you do look a bit sick, and trust me, it’s nothing to do with the fact that you didn’t do your makeup. you just look like you are going to pass out,” oscar sighs. “just drink some water, and i’m sure you will look slightly more alive.”

he straightens his back as more drivers pile towards them for the opening ceremony for the race. “now, cut it out and just act normal. please.”

“are you sure you’re fit to race tonight?” sebastian asks again, eyebrows raised as she zips up her race suit. “no harm in pulling out if you’re not okay.”

“seb,” she says in a laugh, securing the velcro around her neck. “i’m okay. it’s just another day in the office.”

“your mum would personally shave my head if she finds out i let you race when you’re not well,” sebastian sighs. he places a hand on her shoulder. “seriously. please sit out if you need to.”

“i’m,” she turns to him and puts a hand on his elbow, “seriously okay. please don’t worry so much. this is what i do — i race.”

“fine,” sebastian smiles. “but promise me you’ll keep me updated how you’re doing during the race.”

“i always do,” she smiles, leaning into his body for a hug. like they always do before she gets in the car for the formation lap. “promise me you won’t pull me out without my approval.”

“i’d never dare cross you."

well. she didn’t feel good the entire race. it was too hot the entire race, her seat was burning, and sweat flooded her face almost three-quarters of the duration.

the sensation of her hair sticking to her neck and her sweaty head is driving her to the brink of overstimulation. perhaps it’s with the added bouts of cramps that would come every few minutes.

but she doubts it’s the period making her feel sensitive. it’s not her first time racing with the conditions of her period.

she finished in p5, which is arguably very nice, but she just feels very suffocated in her race suit and the helmet that hugs her.

“is logan alright?” she manages to ask, driving her car into parc ferme. “you mentioned he retired during the race?”

“he’s alright. dehydration, i think,” sebastian answers her through the radio. “medical centre with james.”

“what about oscar? he’s okay?”

“he’s alright, from what i can see from the pit wall. he’s got p3.”

“crazy stats for a rookie,” she smiles as the car stops. “can i just sit here for a while, please?”

“do you need help getting out of the car?”

“i don’t,” she trails off, her head starting to spin now that she’s no longer in motion. instantly, her chest starts to feel heavier and her breaths become shallow. “i just… just need a minute.”

every breath she takes is proven to be worse than before. the hot air hits her in the face, the helmet and the balaclava restricting the type of air she can get.

she just wants to lay back in an ice bath, if she could. if she could just manage to get out of the car, that is.

a tap on the top of her helmet urges her to look up, doe eyes meeting a pair of dreamy green eyes. one that she doesn’t see often, but has always looked up to since she was young.

“are you okay?”

“charles,” she says breathily, her vision getting blurrier by the second. “i’m okay. i just needed a minute. it’s very hot.”

“it is,” he smiles. “do you need help getting out?”

“i’m alright,” she says softly. “it’s just a little hard to breathe.”

“it would probably help if you take off the helmet,” he suggests. “i’ll hold it for you — take it off now so you can get fresh air.”

she nods, reaching beneath her chin to unclip the helmet. slowly, she pulls it off her head, then charles takes it into his hands.

instantly, she does feel slightly better. she pulls the balaclava away from her nose, allowing her to deepen the breaths she’s taking as she attempts to regain her composure.

“doesn’t that feel much better?” charles grins. “let me help you out of the car and let’s head to weigh-in together. sound okay?”

she smiles with a nod. “okay.”

the way charles leclerc has her starstruck even after racing alongside him the entire year is something she will never understand. she climbs out of the car, charles’ arms lifted up protectively around her as she wobbles out.

then she realises that he’s holding both of their stuff. she tries reaching over to take her helmet into her hands, but he simply twists his body away from her as he shakes his hesd.

“take off the gloves. you’ll feel so good,” charles smiles at her, still walking alongside her. “and the balaclava. don’t worry about your helmet.”

“thank you,” she smiles, her cheeks flushed as she does as she’s instructed. “how was your race?”

“it was okay,” charles says simply. “you drank water during the race, yes?”

“a little. it wasn’t very refreshing when i did,” she sighs. she holds her balavlaca and gloves in one hand, smiling when charles finally hands her her helmet. “though, i think- whoa!”

her sentence is cut off immediately, her helmet falling to the ground with a loud thud as she lands on her knees against the pavement. her hands dig into the gravel as she drops her head low, slightly embarrassed that she’d tripped on absolutely nothing to the naked eye.

“hey, are you alright?” charles asks hurriedly, bending down next to her. he puts his helmet down on the ground gently, a hand wrapping around her elbow and the other around her shoulders. “what happened?”

“i don’t know,” she sighs. she straightens her back slightly, sitting on her knees. “i got dizzy for a second.”

“we better get you to someone who knows how to take care of you,” charles sighs, looking up at the crowd that’s gathered around them.

one of them, being carlos, who sat out for the race today. “i’ll bring her to the medical centre,” carlos mutters, wrapping his arms around the younger girl. “get her things to seb. i’ve got her.”

“stupid,” was the first thing logan said to her when she stepped into the room in the medical centre.

she scowls at him, a cold pack of ice gel sitting on her forehead as carlos helps her get settled into her seat. “shut up.”

“no, you shut up.”

“both of you shut up,” carlos sighs. he bends down and reappears with two bottles of water. “both of you are like, extremely dehydrated. please drink some water.”

“you didn’t drink the water seb asked you to drink before the race?” logan scoffs. “should have known better. you’re on your period, aren’t you?”

“you’re one to talk — you literally refused to drink the water they gave you in the car,” she scoffs. “and how do you know that?”

“you only physically reject water when you’re on your period, idiot,” logan sighs, sinking in his seat and closing his eyes. “also, i live with you. of course i know when the devil comes to visit you.”

“drink,” carlos says again, handing her the opened bottle of water. “i know it’s not super cold water, but you’ve got to drink something.”

“only freezing water for me,” she frowns, pushing the bottle back into carlos’s body. “you heard logan: i’m on my period.”

“i’ve got your stupid water right here.” the door is opened, sebastian holding it open with a bottle in his hand. he flashes a grin at his driver before extending his arm to give her the bottle. “drink up, please.”

“do you know she is on her period today?” carlos snorts, pointing at the girl. “no wonder she was being weird all day.”

the look of realisation that dawns on sebastian’s face can only be described as priceless. typically, him and noah, her physical trainer, are quite up to date with her statistics.

for something this serious to be overlooked with the chaotic weekend was a big issue.

“oh,” sebastian frowns. “why didn’t you tell me? we could have looked after you better.”

she smiles, closing her eyes. she waves off his concern. “i was okay. finished in the points without makeup melting on my face.”

“okay, what do you m- you literally almost fainted after the race!” sebastian groans, scratching his head in confusion. “nothing about that screams okay!”

“her definition is okay is that she’s not dead,” logan says monotonously.

“which is a good definition, if you ask me.”

“but it’s stupid,” sebastian says.

“but it makes sense,” she sings. “i’m gonna take a nap. wake me up when they come over to give me an iv like the nurse said earlier.”

“you are so very silly for not hydrating enough,” carlos sighs, readjusting the gel pack on her forehead. he puts another one where her shoulder meets her neck, chuckling when she shakes in a shiver. “glad you’re okay.”

“me too.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie@gentlyweeps-world@woozarts

[loonylupinblack3]

Heyy! I absolutely adore your work and I was wondering if I could make a request? A Logan x reader fic where they’re out at a bar and the reader is on the shy side, so when Logan steps aside and a sleazy man tries to get handsy with her, she doesn’t really know what to do. Logan steps in though, protective and fuming. Hope this makes sense!

If not, no worries at all and I hope you have a wonderful day, love!! 💗💗

My Hero

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: sleazy man being sleazy, the blatant ignorance of consent, small amount of violence, swearing

Word count: 2k

A/N: hope you enjoy anon <3

You hated big social events. They were your worst nightmare. You hated the amount of people everywhere and the talking and the strangers and all of it. You much preferred one on one, with people you knew and trusted. 

Social events just made you uncomfortable. You couldn’t act like other people could. You weren’t easy to talk to or excited to meet strangers. You were awkward and your words came out stilted. You needed a script to follow when speaking to people, and any straying from that script left you vulnerable, confused and scared.

So safe to say these social outings the X men insisted on having weren’t your thing. They claimed it would improve team relationships by completing fun activities together, yet everyone had decided getting drunk at a club was the best fun activity.

You were strongly opposed but it was mandatory, so with incredible reluctance you let your boyfriend drag you to the club, promising to spend the whole night with you and not have a single drink.

Knowing Logan, that was a big promise, and also knowing him as your boyfriend, you knew he’d keep his word. He knew how uncomfortable you got in big groups of people, and he enjoyed the idea of helping you, of being the reason you could bear it.

When you arrived a feeling of dread washed over you, thudding music coming from the warehouse-looking building, and fractures of bright light escaping through the cracks of the door. Logan put his arm around your waist, pulling you close, and you revelled in the safety you felt from it, sticking close as you entered the club.

Loud noise immediately assaulted your senses, and you scrunched up your face as your ears screamed in protest. The music was blaring through speakers dotted all over the room, blasting you to near deafness.

You moved closer to Logan, the man tightening his grip on you. “You alright?”

His voice, barely heard over the loud music, was still a huge relief to you, your beating heart easing slightly. You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m not dying.”

He laughed at your words, his body shaking in the process. You smiled, as you always did whenever you made Logan smile or laugh, a small sense of pride flaring inside you. The good feeling helped you push forward, finding a seat at the bar. Logan sat right next to you as he said he would, and when the bartender inquired what drinks you both wanted he settled for soft drinks for both of you.

You smiled into your hands, feeling slightly giddy that he kept his word even though you knew he was going to. It was something about him deciding not to drink on one of his only nights out because it would better comfort you that made you so delighted.

Logan gently pried your hands away from your face with a smirk. “If I’m not drinking tonight you may as well let me reap the rewards for it. I wanna see that pretty smile of yours.”

Of course those words only made your smile widened, heat rushing to your cheeks at the compliment, and Logan stared with unwavering focus, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, looking away.

Logan chuckled, hands snaking to your waist. “You know you love me.”

Unable to resist you turned to look at him, eyes gazing at his features, memorising every blemish on his skin. “Yeah, I do.”

Logan grinned widely at your confession, though you’ve said those words many times before. He just seemed to get a sense of satisfaction every time you spoke them, a reminder that you really did love him, and that you were his.

The sounds of commotion took your attention away, and you heard Scott’s raised voice but couldn’t spot him through the crowd, nor decipher what he was saying. Logan’s brows creased in concern and he looked like he wanted to go check it out, but loyalty to you and his promise to stay by your side stilled his restless body.

“Go,” you urged him, knowing he wanted to check up on his friend. “I’ll be fine here for a few minutes.”

He hesitated still, loyalty to two different people warring inside him. At your sincere expression, however, he leaned in close, pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering a promise of returning soon before he disappeared into the crowd.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, turning back to the bar and staring at your brightly coloured fizzy drink, though you didn’t take a sip. You hoped Logan would be back soon, for though all your talk of being able to handle yourself you still felt vulnerable and alone, even in a room packed full of people.

“All alone there Missy?”

Your head whipped to the side to the source of the question, finding a man much older than you leaning on the bar, eyeing you appreciatively. 

You shifted about nervously, swallowing thickly. You hated talking to strangers. “Um, no, I have a few friends here.”

The man raised his eyebrows, making a show of looking around the bar before zeroing back on you. “So then where are they?”

You felt uncomfortable that he was still talking to you and pathetically shrugged your shoulders. “They said they’d be back soon.”

The man nodded, humming slightly before sidling closer to you. As you were seated you couldn’t very well move away, but you longed to when you smelt the alcoholic tang on the man’s breath.

“The name’s Hiram,” he spoke, using a hand to ruffle his hair slightly.

You thought he looked ridiculous.

“Y/n,” you murmured quietly instead, because you weren’t sure what else to say.

The man, Hiram, seemed to take that as an invitation to move closer, his breath in your face and hand on your shoulder. You tried to lightly shake it off but he had a vice grip, fingers uncomfortably digging into your skin.

“Why don’t we leave this place Y/n?” he offered, hand trailing to your lower back.

You were extremely uncomfortable as of this moment and was grasping for something to say to make the man leave you alone.

“Please let go of me,” was your meek response, feeling both foolish and defenceless.

The man scoffed, hand moving to hold your arm in a tight grip. “Listen Y/n, let’s just have some fun ‘kay? You don’t need to make it a big deal.”

You ignored him, tugging your arm out of his hand and sliding off the stool, intending to search for Logan. The man was fast though, his slimy arm wrapping around your waist and jerking you towards him. 

An icky, sickly feeling overtook you, the overwhelming sense of fear flooding your senses. You didn’t want this grimy man’s hands on you and certainly didn’t want his revolting breath in your face. You wanted to be home curled up on your bed with a book in hand, your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you and his chin resting gently on your head as he read over your shoulder.

This was not what you wanted, but you’d told him that and he’d ignored it so you didn’t know what you were supposed to do now.

“Please, leave me alone-” you pleaded, desperately trying to tug yourself away from him.

He groaned like you were the one being difficult, tightening his grip on your waist to the point it was painful. “It won’t even be for that long-”

“She said leave her alone.”

Relief bloomed in your chest, even with the dirty man’s fingers still digging into your flesh. Hiram turned to look over his shoulder, eyes widened slightly at the sight of Logan towering over him, a white fury in his eyes.

He didn’t bow out immediately, however, which took guts, because a lesser man would have taken one glance at the fuming look on Logan’s face and bolted.

“C’mon man, just having some fun,” Hiram laughed, hand sliding lower down your waist.

Logan noted the movement, his jaw clicking as he stared at Hiram like he was his next meal. “You get the fuck away from her or I’ll make you.”

The man scoffed, taking a step forward, and then suddenly was on the floor, a cry of pain coming from his lips as he cradled his now broken nose. Logan moved forward, stepping on the man’s fingers as he did so, a sickening crack accompanying the action, before he was in front of you and wrapping you up in his arms.

“M’so sorry Bub,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You shook your head but was grateful he was here, burrowing your head into his chest in an attempt to escape it all. “Can we go home?”

Logan was already leading you to the exit. “Of course. The others’ll understand.”

You were grateful as Logan drove you home, but you couldn’t get the feeling of the man’s grimy hands off you. You felt dirty, tainted, like he’d wiped mud on you and you needed to clean it off. Logan noticed your unease as you entered your shared room, and inquired gently as to what the matter was.

When you confessed your feelings, describing the awful ickiness crawling up your arms, and the phantom touch of the man’s hands imprinted upon your skin, Logan gently took your hand and led you to the bathroom, where he started filling the bathtub full of warm water, adding the strawberry essence you liked so much. He beckoned you to get into the tub and you did gently, taking each piece of clothing off and feeling the man’s hold more deeply, like he was still touching you beneath your clothes. 

It made you want to cry as you sat in the tub, knees to your chest. That was until you felt Logan’s hands, marred from centuries of violence, rub your skin with the softest touch, soap coating his fingers. The realisation that he was washing you, delicately cleaning every spot of your skin with his hands, was too much to bear and the tears started falling, but Logan just kissed them all away as he continued cleaning you.

Bit by bit he cleaned you off, making sure no part of you was untouched, wiping the man away from your body. You felt relief and an undying amount of love and gratitude for the man before you. It was hard to imagine him as the formidable Wolverine, because right now he was caring for you with such gentleness you were putty in his hands.

Fully cleaned off, the man’s hold a distant memory, Logan dried you off and dressed you in one of his shirts, knowing you felt safe with your body swamped in his clothes. He then gently carried you bridal style into your bedroom, holding you with a softness you hadn’t known he possessed.

He tucked you in the sheets, made sure you were the utmost comfortable before sliding in beside you, immediately pulling you to him, your back to his chest, and just holding you. You couldn’t have asked for a better moment, and gratefully melted into his embrace, feeling the safest you had all night.

“I love you Sweatheart,” he murmured into your hair, pressing a kiss to prove his words.

A delightful shiver ran down your spine at the action and you sighed in contentment, moving further into his embrace. Things were now as they should be, the two of you wrapped up in each other as the night slowly crept by. In the morning you’d wake up to your head in the crook of Logan’s neck like it always ended up, your limbs tangled together and breathing in sync.

For now though you let your eyes droop, a smile on your lips as you whispered, “I love you too.”

Logan held you a bit tighter after the words, a desperate feeling of love and awe overcoming him, and gently brushed your hair as you fell asleep, before he eventually followed suit, with you in his arms like you were supposed to be.

[awxcoffeexno]

giving him a reason

logan howlett x human!reader

fic masterlist

summary: you've been on the run from the yakuza and are taking refuge in an old, forgotten family home. logan's been protecting you this whole while because that's just who logan is.

content: i've lifted the setting straight from the wolverine (2013). reader is taking mariko's place--reader is mariko, mariko is reader (no names are taken tho). lovemaking ensues. this fic is super tender and gentle because bitches need to remember how tender and gentle logan really is (i'm bitches). this is porn with no plot lolol. f!reader.

warnings: extremely 18+ content. MDNI. i'll kill u if you do. tender love making, logan goes down on reader like a champ, piv, reader is a virgin but logan's vvvvvvvvv gentle and caring, there's hardly any talking but there is proper consent taking, logan just wants to take care of reader, all is good in the world (at least for now), and logan's lost his healing powers so several mentions of him having bullet wounds.

word count: 3k (oops? might've gotten a teeny tiny bit carried away)

a/n: back at it again, but publishing my first nsfw fic, praying y'all don't hate me. if you don't like this, istg the nsfw version of claw worship is NEVER seeing light of day.

you hear him groan behind the door and the sound makes your heart catch.

you and logan have been on your feet all day, save for the train ride to the small village in nagasaki you've finally reached. running from the yakuza had decidedly not been your plan for the day after your grandfather's funeral but what choice did you have in coming here really?

not to mention... logan saved your life yesterday. several times. he was shot seven times per what the doctor told you.

and he is not healing. your grandfather told you that kuzuri had exceptional healing powers. he'd told you this several times. but logan is not healing at all and it makes you tic. he'd told you that this was the doing of your grandfather's doctor. you cannot imagine the agony he must be in.

you've never done well with seeing or hearing people in pain. yukio always suspected you had some type of emotionally perceptive powers but you don't think so. you just have an inherent need to help and that's that.

carefully, hopefully noiselessly, you slide the door to the bedroom open and though he has his back to the door, his neck is already craning towards you. apparently whatever that doctor lady did to take his healing powers did not dull his hearing.

he's standing shirtless, feet shoulder width apart to keep his balance, skin glistening from a sheen of sweat.

"may i see?" you ask and he takes a long, deep breath.

you stand in silence, at first waiting for him to decide and then watching him turn around, bloodied black shirt in hand and an uneasy vulnerability in his eyes.

his stitches look mostly in place apart from the ones on the wound on his abdomen that have started to bleed. you pad over and reach a steady hand out to touch gingerly around the wound.

logan's jaw tightens but he lets you examine him, his breath warm on your face.

he's burning hot and it would be startling but he'd explained yesterday that it's normal for him. his fever had started when he was 9 and it never broke. so you ignore the unnatural temperature of his skin and step away to find him a cloth and some hot water to clean himself with.

when you return, however, he has clearly already showered and is trying to tie a dark kimono on. you have no idea where he found it and his efforts on keeping it in place force you to bite back a smile.

"let me." you offer, putting the contents of your hand aside to help him.

he immediately pulls his hands away in defeat and you find yourself barely an inch away from him yet again. his breath on you makes your toes curl this time. there's something different about his stance, something... more inviting.

"you need this tied like a proper samurai," you explain as you work on the obi.

there's a moment of silence, the pitter pattering of the rain comforting in the silence. he's thinking, you realise.

"your grandfather called me a ronin." his voice is low. tentative. "a samurai without a master. he said i was destined to live forever... with no reason to live."

that's probably the most you've heard him speak.

you swallow thickly. "was he right?"

"yes," he says, voice laced with such melancholy, it makes you ache.

he has taken seven bullets for you knowing he isn't healing. dodged perhaps a hundred more whilst protecting you.

you remember how he'd stood directly in an open doorway in front of a gun-wielding yakuza man to distract him so that you could run. you'll never forget the sound of those bullets hitting his metal skeleton. like nails on a chalkboard.

he'd put his life on the line for you over and over and over again.

aren't you reason enough then? haven't you become reason enough? after everything you've both been through? together?

you muster up all the courage you can and stuff it into one word. "still?"

your eyes dart up to his for a flash before coming back down to finish up. you pull your hands away but... but after the two dreadfully long days that you both have spent together... after seeing him fight to so furiously to keep you safe the way he did... after everything, you simply cannot bear the thought of stepping back.

neither can he apparently because one of his large, warm paws comes up and cups your cheek, ever so slowly pulling you into a kiss.

something about you has been haunting him since he first looked into your eyes three days ago at your family home in the suburbs of tokyo. especially after you, like a goddamned fool, tried to jump off the roof. he cannot pretend to understand why he's been so taken with you but he knows if he hadn't stopped you from jumping that day, another part of him would've died.

he supposes it's something about the saddest eyes on some of the most beautiful women ever that draw him to them. first kayla, then jean, and now... you. and that's only in the last half-century.

so he kisses you, warm and gentle and desperate to comfort. he kisses you like that until you mewl into his mouth, soft and needy. and then his own need shifts.

still careful to be gentle, his hands slip into your hair to hold the back of your neck to angle you better for himself. he's a tall man and leaning too far down is causing him pain he isn't very used to.

you feel so small in his hold, his hand wrapped around the entirety of the back of your neck, fingers resting under your ears, soothing your tingling skin.

pulling away a little, you run a thumb across his cheek. a small, very small smile spreads across his lips.

"hey." he says, voice low and soft, making you blush.

this should feel wrong. he's the kuzuri your grandfather told you bedtime stories about. the kuzuri whose bravery and determination gave you the strength to also face your nightmares as a little girl. you shouldn't be doing this.

but maybe that's why it feels right. you feel safe around him. truly and wholly safe; something not harada or even your own father has ever made you feel. you've known this kuzuri your whole life and you know he'll protect you.

you don't even bother thinking about how you're engaged to noburo. no, you've heard enough whispers about him sleeping with other women after your engagement to him. it doesn't faze you in the slightest.

so you kiss him again, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his smile. you feel one of his hands run down your back, coming to a stop right atop the bow of your obi, sending a shiver of thrill down your spine.

you've never felt this excitement before. you and harada had never gotten this far and noburo... well, something about his predator like advances made you want to throw up, so you never even let him this close.

but here you are, in the arms of kuzuri, a literal predator, and you feel... warm. nice.

he looks at you, brows dipping in an ask for consent. when you nod, sucking your lip between your teeth, he yanks the obi open and gently slips your kimono off one shoulder.

your soft, smooth skin makes him bite back a primal growl. he'd hate to scare you off, but standing here in front of him in the glow of the moonlight, you look so edible.

leaning in, making your tummy do a backflip, he presses a hot, open mouthed kiss to your shoulder. it makes you squeak and hold onto him tighter lest your knees betray you.

"logan!" you whisper with a gasp, feeling his teeth sink in and your feet leave the ground as he scoops you into his arms and takes you to the mattress in the middle of the room.

carefully, he kneels onto the floor and sets you down, his movement so light and tender it makes your heart ache.

pressing another kiss to your throat and then your mouth, he moves to place himself onto the mattress, between your legs.

you look at him with such big doe eyes, he cannot help but bring your hands together and press a soft kiss in the middle of your palms.

he then moves to undo your kimono like a wrapped present and take you in fully.

you're beautiful. the moonlight makes you shine, so perfectly womanly and delicate in his gaze.

reverently, he bends forward, right hand wrapping around your left thigh and pulling your legs apart so he can finally claim you with his mouth. his wounds ache for relief, the position actual torture but he barely even notices, so taken he is by your presence.

you push a lithe hand into his hair when you first feel his tongue, tugging as your hips arch up and you cry out his name.

"logan, god–"

he smiles into your mound, not having expected such a reaction this quick, but it only makes sense. you've both been so wound up after everything, you obviously need this.

"i know, princess," he coos as he licks a stripe across your leaking pussy all the way up to your clit.

he brings his lips around the little bundle of nerves and sucks experimentally and he's forced to hold your hips down when you moan out loud again. he was not expecting you to be loud in bed but he sees absolutely no reason to complain.

his tongue works on you expertly, undoing you with every lick and stroke and bite and suck. his fingers squeeze into your sides painfully hard, so badly wanting to mark you as his. he runs his hands down to your thighs and gently pulls them around his neck, sitting up to relieve the pain in his wounds, pulling you up with him.

"lo–"

"i've got you, you're okay," he reassures immediately, making your tummy flip again. he's so so so gentle and it kills you to have seen him as nothing but a brute until you reached the village.

his mouth continues to perform its delicious hot magic on your nerves as your eyes roll back in your head and you unconsciously reach up for one of your bared breasts. he freezes when he notices your movement, distracted like a cat having heard a mouse scampering across a field.

your eyes fly open to finding him watching your movements with a dark and hungry lust.

"don't stop," he urges and though his voice is strained, it isn't unkind. if anything, it almost sounds pleading.

how can you possibly deny him that? especially when he says it in that voice, looking at you with that expression.

so you continue, cupping a handful of your breast and squeezing gently, making yourself moan. he groans into your heat and buries his mouth back against your pussy, eyes never leaving your hands.

he continues his good work, watching you like a hawk as you knead your breasts, biting your lip. carefully, you circle your finger around one nipple as he sucks on your clit again.

you lose yourself to it, the rhythm of playing with yourself, the beautiful way it harmonises with his mouth, it's all so delicious. just like that, you feel yourself winding up, up, up...

"c'mon, princess," he encourages, "let go for me."

and you fall. fast and slow, all at once, right over the edge. you fall and fall and fall, and he continues to do the wicked thing with his tongue around your clit, lapping at your pussy and you give your everything to him.

he works you through it, moaning your name softly, his hands bruising your thighs until you slump in his hold. gently pulling your legs off his shoulders, he sets you down and crawls over you.

his hands come to rest on either side of your head and the warmth is so inviting, the scent of tobacco and his earthy musk filling your senses.

"can you give me another, angel?" he asks, kissing you right on the mouth so that you can taste yourself on his tongue; heaven, the mix of his need and your release tastes like heaven.

you shake your head no, too overstimulated but he's already working his way down to your breasts, leaving wet, hot kisses in his wake. and when he gets to one nipple and sucks it into his mouth with a soft groan, it sparks the fire right back up in your core.

"watching you play with yourself..." he murmurs, trailing off as he licks a flat stripe up the valley of your breasts before looking up at you.

the look in his eyes and his unrelenting mouth make you whine. "logan... need you."

that makes him smirk. how quickly he's worked you out.

"yeah? don't worry, babygirl," and he's spreading your legs apart again, "i'll take care of you."

he pulls the kimono off himself so quickly, you suspect it might have something to do with the claws that retract into his hand. you didn't even realise when he took them out.

he's... glorious. every muscle in his body is taut and stretched across his body like a work of art. his tan skin is dusted with hair so fine it makes your mouth water.

your eyes cross his pecs, his wounds, his bruises, lower and lower until... fuck. he's... big. big and so red, surely it must be painful.

he brings a hand up to your face and you think he's going to cover your mouth but he simply says, "lick."

you oblige shyly, savouring the salt of his skin. he pulls it away, spitting and then wrapping his surprisingly long and thick fingers around his cock. he runs it up and down the length, watching you with such intensity, it makes you blush as he positions himself in front of your opening and you bite your lip, looking up as he crowds you again.

you feel him push into you and within seconds, he's already stretching you open so wide it makes you grab the pillow behind your head in desperation.

he stills, gauging you. he knows this feeling. he's felt it in other women before; the squeezing of walls so tight there could only be one explanation. you're a virgin. shit, he needs to be careful.

rubbing your thighs with both hands, he gently and carefully pushes in just a little bit more.

"never done this before?" he asks, leaning down to press the softest kiss to your lips.

of course he's right. you have no idea how he knows but it makes you redden that he's caught onto your inexperience. are you making it that obvious? oh god, are you not making this good for him?!

immediately noticing your agitation, he pulls all the way out and kisses you again.

"easy... easy," he says, stroking your hair away from your face. "just gotta relax."

his voice is so even, so warm and soothing, that you cannot help but nod.

"good girl," he smiles encouragingly, once again positioning himself at your entrance.

he pushes in again and this time it's easier. you aren't quite so wound up and he slides in smoother because he's already made you adequately wet. still, he goes slowly, making sure it is good for you.

until you realise he's going too slow.

"lo–" you gasp, voice more a squeak than you'd like. "more– need more, please..."

around anyone else you'd feel pathetic. begging for something so filthy, so raw. but with logan, it's so comfortable. knowing he'll give you anything you ask for, even if you've known each other only half a week.

so he pushes himself completely into you, and he's so fucking big, so fucking much inside you as he whispers words of encouragement into your ears, kissing and biting at your neck. the ache of the stretching almost immediately gives way to a sharp pleasure that shoots through you straight from his tip and into every last nerve in your body.

it makes you wrap both hands around him, needing so desperately to be as close to him as possible.

you initiate the kiss this time as he starts moving in you. you slip your tongue into his mouth, sliding it against his, making him groan. the sound is so delicious, you roll your hips to cause it again. his hands grasp your waist, steading you, moaning your name around your tongue.

one of his hands comes up to grab the back of your neck again, taking charge of the kiss as he starts thrusting into you with more vigour.

you cannot imagine a better feeling than being right here. being held by him, being kissed by him, and being filled by him.

tentatively, you squeeze around him, realising you're reaching another orgasm quickly. he growls into your mouth at that, picking up further speed. it makes your hips buck and you're skin feel like it's on fire.

"logan, i'm... i'm..."

"me too, angel," he grunts.

and with one final thrust he presses all the way intp you, making you cry out as you come undone again. he snarls your name, a man possessed, the squeezing and fluttering of your walls pushing him over his own edge.

he fills you up, forehead coming down to rest against yours. he pants softly, never having felt tired like this before. but he realises... he doesnt mind it so much, not when he's tired because he got to make love to you.

you kiss him sweetly, breaking him out of his thoughts and he smiles at you.

"so beautiful," he murmurs, pulling out of you and lying down next to you.

he tugs you onto his chest and presses a kiss into your hair.

"logan?" you say, so spent your eyes are already drooping.

"hmm?"

"still?" you say and he realises you're repeating his question from earlier.

he hugs you tightly at that, wrapping his arms around you, warm and possessive.

"no. i don't think so."

--

wrote this at 6 in the morning before work so if there's errors, it's not my fault :))))

ik everyone hates the 2013 movie but i rewatched it recently and i remembered every last line. fuck me it's soooooo good.

really hope u like it tho.

love, d <3

--

retroactively tagging @techwrecker for being a cutie in the comments in all my other fics 🙂‍↔️

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can I request Scott, Remy, Logan x reader headcanons with a reader who they just rescued from an illegal mutant fighting ring. They had been in there for a long time and were roughed up pretty bad, they were pretty hesitant and scared.

Here are headcanons for how Scott (Cyclops), Remy (Gambit), and Logan (Wolverine) would react to rescuing a reader who had been trapped in an illegal mutant fighting ring:

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- Scott would be horrified by the state you were in when they found you. Seeing the bruises and the fear in your eyes would hit him hard, igniting a fierce determination to protect you. He’d be incredibly gentle, trying not to overwhelm you as he led you away from the place that had caused you so much pain.

- Scott would be extremely patient with you, understanding that trust wouldn’t come easily after what you’d been through. He’d take things slow, speaking softly and keeping a respectful distance until you showed signs of being comfortable around him. His natural leadership would shine as he quietly reassured you that you were safe now, and that no one would hurt you again.

- Scott would make sure you had everything you needed—medical care, a safe place to rest, and someone to talk to if you were ready. He’d check in on you frequently, but would also give you space, knowing that you might need time alone to process what happened. He’d encourage you to take things one step at a time and would be there to support you whenever you were ready to open up.

- Over time, Scott would gently encourage you to regain your confidence and control over your powers. He’d offer to train with you, not to push you, but to help you feel strong again. He’d emphasize that you weren’t alone in this—that you had a family now who would stand by you, no matter what.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- Remy’s heart would break seeing you in such a battered state. The usually carefree Cajun would be deadly serious, his red eyes burning with anger at the people who had done this to you. But he’d push those feelings aside, focusing entirely on making sure you were okay.

- Remy would approach you with a careful mix of charm and sensitivity, using his natural charisma to try and ease your fears without overwhelming you. He’d speak to you softly in that smooth accent of his, offering you a comforting smile and a warm hand to hold if you wanted it. He’d let you set the pace, never pushing too hard or too fast.

- Knowing how heavy your experiences were, Remy would try to lighten your burden with humor and gentle teasing, anything to make you smile or forget, even for a moment, what you’d been through. He’d show you card tricks or tell stories, anything to distract you and bring a little light back into your world.

- Despite his usual laid-back demeanor, Remy would be fiercely protective of you. He’d stick close by, making sure you knew that he was there for you. If anyone even hinted at trying to hurt you again, they’d have to deal with Gambit’s explosive temper. He’d also be the first to offer to teach you self-defense, wanting you to feel capable and safe in your own skin.

Logan (Wolverine)

- Logan would be furious at the sight of you, covered in bruises and clearly traumatized. The animal inside him would roar with the urge to tear apart those responsible, but he’d shove that down, knowing that right now, you needed someone calm and steady.

- Logan wouldn’t overwhelm you with words; he knows that after what you’ve been through, words might not be enough. Instead, he’d offer his presence—solid, dependable, and unyielding. He’d wrap you in his jacket if you were cold, carry you if you couldn’t walk, and make sure you knew that you were safe with him.

- Logan would be surprisingly patient with you, especially considering his usual rough-and-tumble attitude. He’d understand your hesitance, your fear, and would give you the time you needed to adjust. If you flinched away from touch, he’d respect that, but would also make sure you knew he was there whenever you were ready.

- Logan would keep a close eye on you, his protective instincts in overdrive. He’d make sure you ate, rested, and had the space to heal. He might not say much, but his actions would speak volumes—like making sure no one bothered you, or leaving small gestures of care, like a cup of tea or a blanket.

- Over time, Logan would try to help you rebuild your strength, both physically and emotionally. He’d offer to train with you, teaching you how to defend yourself if you wanted, but never pushing you beyond what you were comfortable with. He’d want you to feel powerful again, not because he thought you needed to fight, but because he wanted you to feel safe in your own skin. And he’d be there, silently promising that no one would ever hurt you like that again.

[x-ghostslovie-x]

I Love You In Every Universe

Logan Howlett x Fem Reader

This is based on a song called Immortal by Reinaeiry and this quote from WandaVision "We've said goodbye before, so it stands to reason." "We'll say hello again."

Contains: angst, character death but you come back at the end, fluff at the end 🩷

Logan never thought he would actually see you again. Back in his world, you had died in his arms. Even as you were bleeding out, you were so certain that he would see you again. It would be a different you, in a different world, in a different universe, but you were so full of hope that the universe would bring you back together.

Logan didn't really believe that would ever happen but held onto the hope for you as you lay dying in his arms. He held you as close as possible with his face in your neck, taking deep breaths of your scent.

With the little effort you had, you slowly raised your hand, gently placing it on Logan's cheeks. Your lover instantly leaned into it. "Hey, Lo, it's gonna be ok. I promise."

"Nothing is ok without you bub"

"It will be, besides." Pressing your forehead against his, "we've said goodbye before, so it stands to reason."

"We'll say hello again."

"I love you Logan. In every universe I love you. You just need to find me again." You let out a soft sob as two single tear drops fell down your face. "We can be together again. And hey, who knows we might finally be able to settle down, get married, maybe have some kids."

A smile spreads across Logan's tear stained face "that sounds perfect darlin"

Logan presses his lips to your forehead as you let out your final breath. Logan's body is racked with sobs as he sits there holding onto your lifeless body for what felt like an eternity.

Logan lost the X-Men that day as well. He was too busy getting shit faced at the bar trying to numb the pain that your death has caused. He had truly lost everything. That was until Wade found him, and they saved the universe.

Now Logan is sitting around a table in Wade's apartment surrounded by people with Mary Puppins on his lap and Laura sitting next to him. He can see why this world's Logan cared about her so much. He couldn't help but wonder if there was a you in this world and if you were still alive.

Logan was snapped out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. Wade jumped up, clapping his hands excitingly, exclaiming that she was finally here. Wade flung open the door, and a very familiar smell that Logan would recognise anywhere suddenly filled his nose. As soon as Wade had stepped aside, he saw you standing there alive with the most carefree expression he had ever seen on you. He could swear his heart skipped a beat.

Wade had practically dragged you over to introduce you to him. "So this grumpy honey badger over here is"

"Logan." you spoke with a soft smile before Wade could. "Hi."

"Hey, Y/N." Logan spoke your name for the first time in years.

Meanwhile, Wade was going to explode with the amount of questions he had about this particular situation.