#logansworld!

[murdrdocs]

go about things the wrong way

description. LOGAN HOWLETT proves himself to be a bit of a hypocrite

includes. SMUT 18+, age gap (reader is implied to be mid20s, logan assumed to be mid30s), protected piv, denial is a river in egypt logan fucks them younger, logan calls reader "kid", insomnia trope, slightly brat reader, remnants of angst, set during early x-men

wc. 5k

a/n: photo creds unknown. title from how soon is now? by the smiths

You should be in your own bedroom. 

It’s a nice room, decorated better than your childhood room in your parent’s house, likely because you’ve grown since your mint green and chevron phase. It’s silent in your room, no other inhabitants except you and your pet fish that was somehow still hanging on. There’s no reason for you to leave your room, it has everything you need. But it’s not right. 

The loneliness is uncomfortable amidst your inability to sleep. It hovers over your bed, staring down at your shuffling frame as you try multiple positions, each one leaving you as restless as the last. You know that’s why you venture off to the kitchen, the search for companionship outweighing the desire for a treat. You just need to talk to someone, remind yourself that you aren’t all alone. There are other people like you, and you live with them. You’re safe. 

You ended up finding what you desired—a non-freezer burnt ice cream bar buried beneath frozen waffles, and a warm body to stand opposite of as you steadily made your way through it. 

You wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, maybe not even yourself, but you had hoped to run into Logan the entire time. Ever since his return you had been itching to get a glimpse of him, but between shadowing Storm, Scott, and Jean, and tending to whatever menial chore Professor Xavier tasked you with, you didn’t have any time for run-ins. Nothing but quick passing in the hallway where you were too shy to do much other than meet his eye for a second, wave, and then scurry along towards the end of the hallway. 

But you had gotten what you wanted when you heard the soft thud of feet followed by the sound of Logan speaking. 

“Is there another one of those?” 

You face him with your mouth stuffed with ice cream. It takes you a second to chew enough to speak around the food without making a complete fool of yourself in front of Logan. 

“This is the last one …” you swallow, ignoring the sting of the cold at the back of your throat. “Sorry.”

Logan shrugs like it’s no big deal and he steps to the fridge. You move out of the way, even though you weren’t really in the way at all, and try to be casual as you chew the remains of your bar, ignoring the sudden warmth in your body now that he’s here. 

Logan doesn’t say anything. You watch the top half of his body disappear as he reaches into the fridge for something, coming out after a minute and some soft shuffling later with a beer bottle in his hand. You don’t know when it got there, and you’re amazed that it was still there and not stolen by some eager teenager. You try not to stare as he takes his first sip, but you sneak a few glances. 

You finish your sandwich, throwing the wrapper out in the drawer trash can and trying your best to ignore Logan’s eyes on you the entire time. He gets halfway through his beer before he says something. 

Leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle and one arm tucked across his chest, he asks, “Can’t sleep, right?”

You nod, not shocked at all that he has you pegged. It’s not unsurprising for a mutant in this place to be unable to sleep. 

Logan nods as if he understands and you know he does, you remember the incident with Rogue just a year or so ago, that and the stories you hear about him wandering the halls at night. It’s why you’d always been so eager to slip down here during restless nights, constantly hoping that this would happen to you. 

And now that it has happened, you don’t know what to do. There’s not much for you to discuss with Logan, the two of you don’t have all that much in common. He’s far older than you, for starters, at least a decade and a half on you from what you’ve gathered. He’s been gone for a while, but you think the others have caught him up on everything that he’s missed already. 

So you just build onto what you have. 

“I just can’t fall asleep. Every time I start, I shake myself awake.” 

Logan takes a swig from his beer and pulls his lips tight, a face of sympathy sliding over his features—eyebrows pinched, lips downturned, eyes a little narrowed. 

“Yeah?” You nod your head. “Sounds horrible, kid.”

Kid. You know you’re younger than him, it’s obvious, but you’re not a kid. You don’t see why he thinks of you that way. Rogue and Bobby are kids and you’re older than them. More mature, no longer a student but now practically a teacher. 

You don’t want Logan to see you as a kid. You know what you want him to see you as, but it seems to become more and more impossible by the day. 

You don’t say anything, lifting your foot enough to press the toe of your slippers into the cleaned grout between the tiles at your feet. 

“Tell you what,” he begins, promoting your head to lift, “next time that happens to you, you come find me, alright? I know how much it sucks to be alone like that so if you need me, come find me.”

That’s what you did. 

After you left the kitchen, finally letting your grin break free since no one was around to see it during the trek back to your room, you told yourself you would only go to Logan if you needed him. 

You tried to sleep, snuggling yourself in a cocoon of blankets and pillows around your head. You lit a candle, counted sheep, made up scenarios to doze off (ones that definitely didn’t involve Logan tenderly holding your hand and stroking your cheek and—), but nothing seemed to work. 

So you found yourself standing in the doorway of Logan’s bedroom, one hand still on the doorknob and the other toying with a loose thread at the bottom of your tee shirt. The bedroom is dark, save for the moonlight peeking through his opened curtains, but from the hallway light behind your back you can see Logan’s frame under the sheets. 

His back faces you until you harshly whisper his name, which at the call of he lifts his head, looking at you, and then rolls over completely to click the lamp on his nightstand on. 

“What’s wrong, kid?”

You feel so meek when you explain, like you are a kid, crawling to your parents after a nightmare. 

“You told me to come find you.”

His squint relaxes. His entire frame relaxes actually. He sits up, jerking his head in a beckon. You click the door shut behind you as softly as you can, approaching the bed timidly until you stand on the other side. 

And then you just hover. You stand there hesitantly, staring down at the slightly unmade side of the bed. Logan doesn’t say anything for a minute, but once the silence and hesitance stretches to an uncomfortable end, he speaks up, his voice groggier and raspier than it was before. 

“You gonna sleep from there? Is that some mutant power that I didn’t know about?” He says it like he’s teasing you, and when you look at him you can see the small smile on his lips. It’s similar to the one he sports when he’s messing with Scott but with more softness in his eyes. 

You scoff, trying to play it cool when Logan lifts the sheets for you and you climb under them. This side of the bed is cold and unused and you wonder if you’re the first person to use it. 

You get as comfortable as you possibly can. You fluff the pillow and create the perfect indent for your head, you pull the sheets up to your shoulders, you lay on your side and face the window, and then when Logan clicks the light off, you close your eyes and try to sleep. 

You don’t know how you thought this would be any better than struggling to sleep in your own bed, because it’s so much worse. 

In your own bed, you were left with the out-of-reach fantasies of Logan. You laid in bed, giggling to yourself as you imagined what it would be like to lay next to Logan. You filled your head with blurry images of Logan’s frame, what he would look like with his eyes closed and his face completely relaxed. You tried to imagine the heat of his body in the cold of your room, trying to change your body temperature just with a thought. 

But now it’s all right beside you, left there for you to catalogue so you could never forget this moment. 

The feeling of his body so close yet so far from yours. The sound of his breathing. The smell of his body wash and the way it lingered on his sheets. You’re finally in Logan’s bedroom, but you’re not getting what you want. You truly don’t think you ever will. 

It’s impossible for you to sleep now. You try to keep your tossing and turning to a minimum, only moving when absolutely necessary and doing so with tentativeness. You’re trying to be meticulous with your movements, all with a goal to disturb Logan as little as possible. You’re a guest here, after all. 

But even if he wasn’t an attentive mutant you knew he would’ve eventually gotten fed up. 

He calls your name, soft yet sounding like a warning, and you’re quick to apologize. 

He doesn’t say anything else for a second, then, “Whatever’s on your mind, squash it. Jus’ let it go.”

You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do when you say, “Easier said than done.”

Logan shifts and turns around until he’s facing you. You stay facing the window. 

“What usually turns your mind off?” he asks. “A glass of warm milk?” 

When you laugh it’s halfhearted and maybe this is the final indicator that something about you is off. 

“Look at me.” You obey embarrassingly quickly. 

You can’t really see him in the dark, but the white light from outside illuminates the slope of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. You can sort of see his eyes too, the usually light green darker because of the environment, but the shadowy fan of his eyelashes is as distinct as usual. 

“Seriously, tell me what’s going on. Anything I can help you with?” He lets the question linger in the air for a second before adding on. “You need me to rough a few kids up? You being bullied?” He says it like a joke.

“No,” you say. 

Logan makes an ‘ah’ sound. “Yeah I’m sure you could handle yourself.” The sheets lift again. “Come ‘ere.”

Shit, shit, shit. 

You listen to him, scooting closer until you’re wrapped in Logan’s arms, enveloped in his warmth. It’s nice and comfortable, the sound of Logan’s heart right next to your ear, the security of his arms wrapped around your frame. 

“Does this help you?”

You hum affirmatively, already starting to feel more comfortable than you had before. Your heart beats painfully hard in your chest and you start to get self-conscious, knowing that Logan can definitely hear it.

Right on cue, he laughs a bit against your head. 

“Nervous?”

“No.” God, you’re so obvious. 

Logan’s laugh grows until he’s snickering, doing a terrible job of stifling his laughter. “‘s alright,” he eventually says. “Nothing wrong with that.”

You make yourself as comfortable as possible, pressing your back to Logan’s chest, trying to ignore the hard feeling of his body behind you. You can basically feel everything, the plane of his chest pushing through his tee, the ridge of his sweatpants against your lower back, his legs against yours—tempting you to intertwine them together, his feet hanging right under yours. You’re not exactly dressed for this and your shirt has ridden up, bunched at the top of your ass and exposing your panties. You wonder if he knows. You wonder if he cares. 

This is helping you a lot, but there’s still something on your mind. Something you need to solve before you can go off to sleep. 

You don’t know what it is that makes you confident, that makes you want to ruin a good moment. Maybe it’s the dark providing you comfort, but you lay it all out. 

“You treat me like a kid.”

Logan takes a second. You can just barely make out the hitch in his voice. “...Yeah?”

You’re glad he can’t see you when you pout. It wouldn’t have done much to help your case. “I’m not a kid, Logan. You don’t treat Rogue like a kid.”

“Rogue is different.”

“How? I’m older than her.”

“Just … can we not argue?”

“We’re not arguing.”

“Yeah? Then whaddya call this?”

“A conversation between two adults.”

He hums as if he’s unconvinced. 

You won’t let it go. “How is Rogue different?”

“Go to sleep,” he admonishes.

“Can’t. Not until you answer my question.”

Logan sighs. “‘cause I’m not attracted to her, alright?”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Wait … what?

You’re sure your silence is enough to express your confusion because Logan adds on. 

“I’m trying to set boundaries between us, kid—”

“Don’t call me that.”

He corrects himself with the use of your name instead, but it comes out the same way. “We need boundaries between the two of us. You think I don’t see how you look at me? ‘s not good.”

“If you’re setting boundaries why did you invite me in here.”

“Because I wanted to help you.”

Why is he making you feel crazy? He just told you he’s attracted to you, but he wants to set boundaries? There are barely any boundaries here. You’re alone with him, in his bedroom, tucked away at the end of the hall surrounded by mostly empty bedrooms instead of bedrooms of asleep mutants, curled up against his chest. This is the most opportune time, yet he didn’t want to make a move.

Maybe you were reading too much into it. 

You go to pull away from Logan’s embrace but he keeps you pulled tight to his chest. 

“Don’t do that,” he says it like a command and just to piss him off you consider pulling away. But you’re really comfortable and this is a comfort you aren’t sure you’re ever going to find again. 

“Just go to sleep, alright,” he says your name again, much softer this time. He says it like he’s coaxing you like your name is the final tune in a lullaby. 

Maybe Logan has other powers you aren’t aware of because just that one sentence is enough for you to let it go and submit to the sudden exhaustion that settles over your body like a weighted blanket. 

You don’t know if Logan’s been avoiding you. Mostly because you’ve been avoiding him.

It’s not often that the two of you would have to run into each other, but there were a few times when Professor Xavier extended the invitation to observe an upcoming class, and you declined upon learning that Logan would be subbing. 

You kept your distance as much as you could, even keeping yourself locked up in your bedroom throughout the night, no matter how restless you got. You were miserable, not only because you wanted to be near Logan, but because you were fucking exhausted. 

You could barely stay awake throughout the day, always sneaking off for power naps, taking whatever you could get even if it was only five minutes. 

But you finally have the rest of the afternoon to yourself and you intend to use it to sleep. Uncaring of how much it threw off your sleep schedule, you just needed a solid half hour curled up at the foot of your made bed like a dog, sleeping to your heart's content. 

Of course, it’s on your way up to your room that you run into Logan. You try to ignore him, continuing your path up the stairs, praying that Logan will continue on his path downstairs. 

You don’t know what it is about you that says come talk to me! but Logan stops in his journey, turning to face you. He calls your name, continuing even when you don’t respond. He follows your trek up the stairs and down the hallway, always right on your heels and within arm's reach. 

By the time your hand reaches for your bedroom door, Logan is practically breathing down your neck. 

You know there’s no avoiding him now, but you also don’t want to. 

You stand still, hand wrapped around the doorknob, waiting for Logan to say his piece. 

“Why’d you lead me to your bedroom?” The way he says it, with such arrogance and assurance woven into that same joking manner as if he wasn’t the one who turned you down just a few nights ago. 

“Fuck off, Logan. I just wanna get some sleep.”

You twist the knob and this is what wakes Logan up. “Okay, wait.” His hand reaches out and rests on your elbow. Just this one touch strikes you still. “Will you look at me?”

You turn around, trying to keep your gaze hard even as you take in his appearance for the first time in days. 

The bags under his eyes, the relaxed smile that’s constantly on his face when he’s around you, the thickness of his eyebrows, the points in his hair. You’re staring at his hair, wondering if it’s naturally like that or if he does it himself, and when you look at his eyes again there isn’t a connection. He’s staring at your lips instead. 

You lift your eyebrows impatiently, already imagining the sleep you’ll get after you ruminate until you can’t form a coherent thought. 

Logan opens his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry if you got a little hurt from the other night. Is just this age gap and your little crush is not gonna wor—”

You’re already turning around, deciding whatever else he’s going to say isn’t important at all, but Logan stops you. His movements are fluid, they flow naturally from his body and straight into yours, causing you to move with a coordination you didn’t expect. He spins you back around and pulls you straight to his chest, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, while his hands rest on your hips and your cheek. 

The movement is quick, it happens within a couple of seconds, and it makes the moment after feel so much longer. Nothing but shared blinks as Logan looks at your lips and you look at his. You’re so close to him, even closer than you were the other night, but neither of you makes a move. 

You’re considering making the first move, opening your mouth as if to ask him a question that was still unknown to you, but then Logan’s grip on your cheek tightens as if he’s holding you still and he moves in closer, and closer, and closer until his lips ghost over yours. 

In the end, it’s you who crosses the bridge. 

Your lips touch, sandwiched together, but neither of you do anything. Not until you take a tiny step closer, really nothing but an adjustment of your feet, is Logan pulling you into him. He digs his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, that one hand possessing all of the aggression that doesn’t exist in the hand holding your cheek. 

It’s like the touch of two different men—one who wants to devour you whole and the other who wants to treasure you. You hope that they’re able to coexist as you desperately want both. 

You let Logan kiss you feverishly, an intensity unlike anything you’ve ever seen him display settling in his lips. The Logan you knew was always relaxed, walking around the mansion with a carefree, practically laissez-faire, attitude. He didn’t meddle, he kept his hands to himself, always wrapped around a cigar or a beer. 

But now those hands were wrapped around you for the second time this week. 

You press your hands into the shoulder of his white tee shirt, starting to slide them up towards his hair before you resist. You want to get comfortable kissing him, but you’re still out in the hallway. 

Having the same thought, Logan pulls away from your lips with enough time to open the door, latch his hands onto your hips, and blindly steer you backward until you’re in the room. He stares down at you the entire time, that same smirk on his lips as he kicks the door closed behind him with a single boot. 

And then he has you pressed against the wood, sandwiched between a rock and a hard place. 

He looks at you for a second, his gaze lingering, and then he gets back to it. 

If even possible, Logan has more passion this time around. He sinks his hands to your thighs, pulling one up by his hip. He slots his legs into the opening until your center is hovering over his thigh. You don’t know what to expect, but when he flexes the muscle and presses his limb right up against you, you’re already trying to get more. 

Logan smiles as he kisses you, clearly entertained by your anguished need to get off. He doesn’t verbally reassure you, he doesn’t help you grind yourself down, he doesn’t do anything but continue kissing you. 

When you need to come up for air, knocking your head back into mahogany as you intake large gulps, Logan dips his head down and explores as much skin as he can. He creates a path of kisses from your jaw, down your neck, to the exposed parts of your chest. 

You tilt your head down, locking your hand into his hair and trying to redirect his lips back to yours, but he stops you with a hand pinching your cheeks. 

His eyes flick back and forth between yours, nothing but mischief and arrogance in the green. You wrap a hand around his wrist with the initial want to tug him away, but you like the hold he has you in. You like the look in his eyes. 

“Good?” His voice is softer than his grip. 

You nod, trying to grin as best as you can when your lips are forcibly puckered. 

Logan smiles right back at you. “You got a rubber?”

You nod again, scurrying to your nightstand once Logan lets you go. He tells you to get on the bed and you take the liberty of throwing your shirt off and bra as you go. You have enough sense to step out of your shoes, unclasp your jeans, and tug the zipper down in the path. 

By the time you’re sitting on your bed, you can feel the anxiety thrumming through your body. It’s a good kind, the kind you’ve been seeing less and less of lately. You’re still a little tired and still desiring a solid nap, but it can definitely wait. This is your main priority. 

Logan speaks to you as he undresses. 

“You still doing okay?” he asks as he’s pulling his tee over his head. When you nod, he moves to his belt, thick but deft fingers undoing it and leaving it hanging open and hooked into his belt loops. 

“You tell me if you wanna stop,” he says as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them right after he steps out of his boots. You give him a look and he clocks it immediately. 

“You think you can take it, bub?” He laughs. “Yeah? Don’t you think you’re talkin’ a big game?”

Petulantly, you roll your eyes. “Logan, I’m not a fucking kid, I’ll be fine.”

Wrong. So, so, so stupidly wrong. 

You are fine, but the sight of Logan’s dick sends nerves down your spine. You’ve talked yourself up, you can’t go back, so you do what you can. You let him peel your jeans and panties off, hoping you look as seductive as he does. You keep your eyes on his abdomen, tracing the vein that runs from the right of his navel down to his cock, breathing as well as you can while Logan lines himself up. The first push burns, just like you expect it to, but you adjust quicker than you thought. Eventually, all you can feel is pleasure. You’re so full when he’s only halfway in you. You feel stuffed as soon as he bottoms out, his heavy ball sack resting flush against you, a thick forest of pubes pressed against your cunt. 

Logan is so much, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. Hovering and staring down at you as his hips rock into yours, slowly and experimentally at first. It’s not until you draw a leg up over his hips that he increases the strength of his rocks. 

He has one hand keeping himself steady and the other holding your waist. It’s so intimate, and not only because he’s fucking you, but because he’s staring down at you the entire time, his teeth bared as he watches you for every single reaction. His eyes rake down your body, watching the way your tits jiggle before dipping lower to watch the way he’s entering you. You can’t see his gaze, but you can feel it, the weight of it comparable to the weight of his cock in you. 

There’s an inhuman nature to it, hidden deep below the surface as if he’s trying to hold back, but it’s there. You’re made aware of it when you clench around him and he growls. It comes from the back of his throat but it’s a sound you’ve never heard before. It’s so Logan, you don’t think anyone other than him could make a sound like that as erotic as it is. You want to hear him more, you want your moans to blend together amongst the four walls of your bedroom, but he keeps his sounds to himself. It’s like there’s a disconnect between the both of you, like Logan’s still holding back even though he’s balls deep in you. 

“Logan,” you whine, getting his attention. He looks at you with concern in his eyes, his hips slowing down. You shake your head, pushing more towards him. “Please,” you beg, praying he knows exactly what you want. 

“What? What d’you want?”

“More.”

Logan gets rougher. He’s grinding up into you like his life depends on it, blunt nails delving into your skin as if he wants to break it. You wish he would. You aren’t regenerative like he is, but you still desire the broken skin, the beads of blood, the marks left behind. 

You’re thinking about it, eyes lidded and falling closed when Logan knocks his forehead into yours once. He moans, closed-mouthed as his head lolls to the side, a shiver shaking him from the bottom of the spine up. 

“Jesus, baby,” he says. It’s all he says, but it’s more than enough. He keeps going, digging his tip into you deeper and deeper until it feels like he’s swimming in your guts. 

He drags his head down until he can wrap his lips around one of your nipples, licking and sucking before moving on to give the other one the same treatment. You desperately want him to mark you up, you want a reminder that this—the thing you’ve been wanting since Storm and Scott came back with two new mutants in tow—actually happened. Bravely, you reach out and tangle your hand in his hair, surprisingly softer than you thought it would be. You don’t hold him down much, just enough to communicate what you want nonverbally. And then after a few tortuous seconds of hesitation, his lips wrap around the skin atop your left breast and he sucks. The strength in it stings, it reminds you just how strong Logan is, but it feels so good. 

Unexpectedly, you feel your muscles seize. It starts in your tummy, deep down near where Logan’s been massaging, and then it just doesn’t stop, likely because he doesn’t stop. 

It’s like he’s spurred on by the feeling of you cumming, motivated by the way your back arches and you reach for the heavens as you clench around his cock. 

He gets a burst of energy, fucking you like he has something to prove when really it’s you with something to prove. 

You’re overstimulated, struggling to keep up with Logan, but you don’t want to tap out. You talked a big game, you can’t back down now. So you remain silent while Logan pulls another orgasm out of you, hoping he won’t notice the way your eyes brew tears without your consent and the way your lips quirk with the impending request to slow down. 

Of course, he notices. 

He’s grinning with sympathy—you don’t know if it’s sincere or faux—when he takes a hand and strokes your cheekbone. 

“I see ya, kid. Feels good, yeah?”

For some reason, when he calls you kid like this, you don’t completely hate it. 

There’s no point in lying, so you nod. 

“So tight,” he winces, eyebrows pinched together as he flashes his teeth, a dimple in his right cheek appearing with it. 

Just as you didn’t warn him before, he doesn’t warn you when he cums. You feel it though, the way his thrusts get sloppier and faster just before he gives you one punctual one, and then you feel the confined warmth of his cum shooting into the condom. 

You wish you weren’t as exhausted as you were, because the next time you’re conscious, it’s dark out and the bedsheet is covering your body. You’re hot, hotter than you usually want to be when you’re sleeping, but you’re bare naked. That and you only have a thin sheet covering your body. 

It doesn’t take much investigation to figure out what’s making you so hot, not when it’s attached to your back with one meaty bicep slung around your neck and keeping you pulled against him. It takes you a bit to fall asleep, but once you do, you’re out for the rest of the night. 

[knucklebonesminis]

Another set finished of the ‘wish these existed when I saw the illustration in the 80s’ range. Coming to the Patreon this month......link in the bio. #patreon #miniatures #3dprinting #stls #stl #inq28 #28mag #warhammer #helsreach #logansworld #roguetrader #stargrave #oldhammer #necromunda #planet28 #brutalquest #sludgewargame #blanchitsu #paintingminiatures #digitalsculpting #blighton28 #knucklebonesminis https://www.instagram.com/p/COgRpFCHoCQ/?igshid=ct2v8dskx0y9

[junofms]

﹝ welcome logan ! ﹞ you have 8 hours to check your email to confirm your JUNO account  . . ⇢  marc forne is taken

〔   marc forne  +  he/him  〕 hey have you heard of ( logan cadenas ) being on juno ? yeah, they go as ( logansworld ) !! they’re ( twenty three ) and mostly post ( fashion + nsfw ). they had a q&a with some fans in their server the other day and they were ( showing off their record collection ) and i found out that they’re actually a ( gold ) tier and that they’ve been posting content on the app for ( six months ). it’s crazy because i remember thinking they were ( vainglorious ) but they were so ( sociable ) !!  it makes sense since they’re a ( cancer )  ⤑  s / 21+ / est

[murdrdocs]

80s pornstar logan; age gap; pornstar reader x pornstar logan; doggy; brat!reader MDNI 18+ w/ LOGAN HOWLETT

logan doesn't trust you.

he doesn't know you well enough for you to have gained his trust, but he refuses to get to know you. there's no point. in logan's eyes, there's no reason for you to get comfortable.

you won't be here for long.

he doesn't care how much the studio believes in you, he doesn't believe in you. how could he? you're so fucking green that he can smell it on you. only starred in a couple movies before this one, both nothing compared to the expansive record that he has.

gum-smacking, lip gloss shining under the sun, flowy shirts, and tiny shorts. compared to his cigars, fitted jeans, and plaid, the two of you are polar opposites. even though logan sees something in you. that same arrogance he had at your age. it just looks different on you.

you confront him first. standing beside his car in the studio parking lot, resting your hip on the door like it’s your vehicle. you’re blocking the entrance, lazily smacking your gum as you squint at him.

logan doesn’t say anything. he stands there, hands on his hips, his restless fingers tapping against the worn leather of his belt. he shamelessly lets his eyes rake down your body, taking in the natural shape of your tits through your loose shirt, the expanse of your legs barely covered by your tiny shorts. briefly, logan wonders if you’re shaved like some of the other younger girls he’s filmed with.

he finds himself wanting to find out.

he’s wearing his shades, the thin wire-framed ones with brown lenses. he knows they aren’t opaque, he knows you can see the path his eyes take, but he doesn’t care. he holds off a smile when you adjust your stance and scoff.

“what’s your problem with me?”

logan shrugs dismissively.

apparently, his nonchalance upsets you even more. he expects you to give him some speech about how rude he is, how you deserve to be here just as much as he does, how you earned your spot in this production. whatever your little brain can come up with.

but you give him none of that. you push off of logan's truck, step out of his way, and saunter off with a final call of, "see you on wednesday!".

logan lets his eyes linger on the switch in your hips and the shape of your ass.

his eyes find that same spot on wednesday, his view unobstructed now as your bare skin is illuminated underneath the studio lights. he's just staring and he can't stop. his eyes watching the way your skin ripples as he fucks you from behind, following the curve of your back, all the way up to the crown of your head which reaches for him.

he knows at some point he's supposed to grab the ponytail you have. the director wants him to mess it up as much as possible, providing a good contrast from how dolled up you were before. most of that has been done naturally. for some reason, everything with you seems natural. logan's been in the game for a while, he's had to fake scenes before. it's part of the job description, to act according to how the audience would want the sex to go. but with you, logan doesn't think he's been acting at all.

the energy buzzes around his entire body the entire time. he doesn't ever forget that you're both being filmed, it would be hard to, but he loses himself in it. he loses himself in the way you know just what to do. the way you angle your body perfectly according to the camera position, the way you speak to him, the way you're so visibly remembering every single direction you were giving before filming began.

your competence is hot.

by the time filming is over and a production assistant is handing you a warm towel and your robe, logan's fucking spent.

you're just there grinning, watching logan down an entire bottle of water in one go. when he comes up for air, you stand before him, keeping your eyes on his.

"i see why you're known for your stamina," is all you say to him before you turn away and disappear, possibly unaware of the semi that was brewing beneath the towel covering logan's hips. 

the next time logan sees you, it's through a headshot. sitting on the casting director's desk, amongst three others, all labeled with names and facing him. he stands there for a second, hands crossed over his chest as he scans every picture.

"we just need to know who you think would be good for the next job," the casting director reiterates, his words smooth as they wrap around logan's mind.

logan doesn’t know why he’s pretending, why he's taking so long to answer a question that he knows the answer to.

he slides your picture up higher than the rest and leaves it at that.

[murdrdocs]

being "too young for logan" which means you're too inexperienced. he'll give you what you want, fuck you on his cock like how you've been begging, but he won't do it immediately. no, he'll make you work for it, torture you with just promises and handfuls of his dick without even sinking just the tip.

but he sees how much you desire him, and he feels the same. he can't resist sitting you on his lap and kissing you until you were leaking between your legs. he'll fuck your cunt with his fingers until he could hear it, and he'll let you slide yourself over the rough denim of his jeans.

he sits back and enjoys the sight, one hand pressed into the mattress and the other holding your waist. his eyebrows a little lifted, lips pulled into a amusing smile as he watches you make a complete mess on the thigh of his jeans.

"keep going just like that," he tells you, gripping your cheek in his palm whenever you falter. "look at me. yeah, that's it."

he lets you kiss him, doing whatever it is that you need to cum. after all, he does feel a little bad, it's not your fault that your cunt wouldn't be able to take him. he just doesn't want to hear your insistent whining when you inevitably struggle to take him.

still, he promises, "one day we'll get there."

[murdrdocs]

MDNI 18+

hmmm thoughts of logan and his young nympho girlfriend.

it’s one of the things he likes most about you, your ability to keep up. you like to taunt him, call him an old man, wonder aloud to yourself if he could go for yet another round. but he’s a mutant for gods sake, old or not he can keep up. it’s surprising to him that you’re asking for another round when he just saw you mewl and cry while he forced another orgasm out of you.

but you’re the one who stares right into his eyes as you pull his hand down your body, forcing him to cup your mound. it’s astonishing how you’re always so wet for him down there. always so wet and ready for whatever he gives you—his fingers, mouth, cock. sometimes his thighs or his abs. his biceps that one, glorious, time.

you take it all, hungrily, greedily. you fuck him like the worlds gonna end the next day, and he gives it to you the same way. he exerts his body in ways that he never has before.

logan’s fucked, you both know that, but it’s something completely different with you.

it’s desperate grinds of your crotches together when you’re just making out. it’s you furiously riding him and simultaneously rubbing your clit while you filled the room with wanton moans. it’s him fucking into you until you’ve gone mute, having lost your voice from just how constantly loud you were.

you two fuck like mad men, to the point where even wade is impressed, constantly telling both of you that he has to get in on some of the action. logan wonders if you could handle two mutants. he thinks you might give them both a run for their money.

[murdrdocs]

normal, not insane thoughts being had about fucking old man logan.

thinking about him lifting your big shirt up to lay a hand over your tits, easily taking one in his palm while his other hand yanks your panties down your legs. he undoes you so easily, it doesn’t take much effort at all. by the time his fingers, newly roughed up, tweak your clit a few times, you’re already whining. you’re always so ready for him, always so eager. his look just does it for you.

the grey hair, the reading glasses that he keeps hooked on the collar of his shirt.

logan thinks it’s weird, but he doesn’t complain. not until you turn into a maniac, trying to fuck him again and again even when he reminds you that he needs a break now. things have changed.

but he still fucks you with vigor. rolling his hips into yours with skill. hooking your legs around his hips and over his shoulders. he squints down at you, watching his cock disappear and reappear over and over again. there was a time where he could see every little detail, down to the mixture of slime that’s surely coating his cock.

now, he relies on other senses. touch, mostly. his hearings still here, too. he listens to the sloppy sounds of him fucking you. the messy moans you let out.

[murdrdocs]

need logan to be all "you're too young for me." and of course you're all, "aren't you like 200 and something years old? anyone still alive would be too young for you."

and logan tries to resist. even if he is old as shit, he basically has the body of a fifty-something year old man, and the attitude to match it. so you, a 20-something year old with too much determination for your age, shouldn't even be included in the same conversation as him unless it's in a professional or friendly capacity. but you refuse to give up, because you see the way he looks at you.

he might think his words alone are enough to turn you off, but he's completely obvious when he lets his eyes skim down your body. you keep pushing him and pushing him and pushing him until eventually he's letting you push him down onto your bed.

and god he absolutely loses himself in the feeling of your pussy. the way your stamina comes close to matching him. the sound of your moans and the look of your face as you ride him until you physically can't anymore. it's so addicting, so logan really has no choice but to keep you around for a bit.

[murdrdocs]

free use vibes; domesticity; mirrors; MDNI 18+ w/ LOGAN HOWLETT

thoughts of disgusting domesticity w logan.

he's not the most patient man ever. he likes to get things done as soon as he can, especially when it's something he wants done. but he'll try to wait for you. he'll try to contain himself while sits on the bed when you tell him you'll be back soon.

"just gotta do a few things first."

his hands resting on his thighs, his bored eyes watching whatever show you've been re-binging as it plays on the tv. he hears a playlist start playing in the bathroom, followed by the sound of the shower water running, and he has the urge to get up and join you now. but he promised he would wait, and he knows how pissy you can get if he interrupts your routine.

so he watches the end of this episode and lays back when the next starts. the shower ends, the volume of your music is turned down, and he thinks that you'll be out soon.

but then the episode ends and logan realizes that the two of you have different definitions of 'soon'. he can't wait any longer, walking into the bathroom with completely confidence.

"i'm almost done, i swear."

logan nods, arms crossed over his chest as he looks down at your frame. "mkay. you can finish."

you thank him and logan knows you're waiting for him to leave, but he doesn't. you can finish your routine, but he's getting what he came here for.

so he pulls your little shorts down and pushes your frilly little panties to the side, freeing his cock from his sweatpants and pushing your upper half down by the curl in your lower back.

you complain at first, but logan asks you if you want him to stop and his tip is nestled right there, leaving your greedy cunt to clench around nothing but air, desperately trying to tug him in. you shake your head, dropping whatever product you were about to use and bracing yourself with a hand on the counter and the other on the mirror.

and logan fucks you. he watches you watch yourself, unable to stop himself from smiling because you're finally seeing what he sees. maybe you'll finally understand why he's so addicted, why he couldn't keep his hands to himself for another ten minutes because this perfect pussy was prancing around in the other room, gallivanting around as if she wasn't hungry for this right here.

[murdrdocs]

car sex; cucking; mutant reader MDNI 18+ w/ LOGAN HOWLETT ft. WADE WILSON

chronically thinking about logan in that fuckass honda odyssey, but just fucking him. yeah, maybe there's blood every fucking where. maybe some of your wounds are still healing as are his. but the main event is the way his large body takes up the entire reclined seat, the pants of his suit pushed down to bunch at the center of his thighs. his gloves are still on as they grip at your bare hips, guiding you up and down on his cock.

everything about it was hasty. the center of your suit was peeled open to reveal your tits, your bottoms thrown in the drivers seat along with most of your weapons. in the midst of the battle you'd lost a few of them.

the odyssey might be a large car, but you barely have any space. one hand pressed up into the forever stained roof, the other pressed into logan's shoulder where your gun blew a hole only a few minutes ago. of course it's healed now, but the evidence is still there.

"this doesn't..." you try to speak but then logan thrusts up into you and he hits a spot that has your head lolling to the side, your lips parted and you think there's a bit of drool gathering at the corner. "this doesn't mean you won, by the way," you're eventually able to slip out through breathy gasps.

logan grins below you, looking completely relaxed and in control of the entire situation. "i think it does, bub." he tilts his head as he says it, scrunching his nose with an air of superiority.

and through it all, there's wade in the backseat, attempting to back seat drive all while holding his cock in his hand. he calls your name, getting your attention from logan's eyes to the white slits in wade's mask.

"do that thing where you pull his little ears again. he likes that, don't you big boy?"

you're just about to do it in the name of curiosity by then logan reaches back with his claws revealed and slashes wade's thigh. when wade groans, you can't tell if it's out of pain or pleasure. knowing him it's likely both.

[murdrdocs]

thinking about calling logan “kitty” just to piss him off and see what he’ll do😵‍💫

MDNI 18+

goddd calling him kitty in different scenarios, too.

the first when you're casual, standing in the bathroom and marvelinig at how his hair just sits like that without any interference.

he's tired, eyes low, face sitting in a permanent soft smile as he stares at you.

"you're like a kitty," you say, tapping the tips of his makeshift ears. he snorts, resting his hands on your hips and moving you out of the way.

"uh-huh, whatever you say." he's dismissive, not caring much.

but then when you start calling him that, particularly when you're searching for him in the house, he lets it slide the first couple of times before then he gets stern, typically rounding the corner and letting you bump into his chest as he tells you, "don't call me that."

so you stop. it's cute seeing him pissed, but you don't want to aggravate him too much.

when you call him kitty in bed, it slips out. you're a little wine tipsy, resting back in the center of the bed with your legs spread, waiting for logan to come crawling towards you, you can't help it when you sing, "here kitty kitty."

you're lucky he only teasingly bites your inner thigh in response.

[murdrdocs]

logan who’s like, super handsy but not in the way that it’s super PDA, but like he’s sticking his hand UP ur shirt in public, he’s got his hugeass hand around a titty in the middle of the night, he’s rubbing his beard against ur neck. i need to have him knock me up this actually cannot run

the sickest part is that, according to him, it often isn't intentional.

when he's standing in the store with you, impatience leaking from every inch of him, his mind just wanders. he's thinking about something he saw on TV a few weeks ago while you're trying to choose between two items, standing just a few inches in front of him. and whenever you ask his opinion, he steps forward, humming as he slides his hand around your hip. you don't think much of it, leaning back against his chest and holding up the two—admittedly, extremely similar—items.

but then his pinkie latches underneath your shirt and you flinch when his palm presses against your stomach. when you try to push his hand off of you, it's only because he's reaching inappropriate territory, leading up towards your bra and bringing your shirt with it.

"in public," you curtly remind him, putting one item back on the shelf and taking the other in your hand.

logan just shrugs, lowering his hand to your waist as you begin to walk away with him practically on a leash behind you. "then take me home."

and when you are home, it's basically the same. his hands are everywhere, always.

tucked under the waistband of your shorts when he has you curled up under his arm while he cooks, gripping the back of your neck when you're sitting on the couch together, holding your tit beneath your shirt while you're sleeping.

he always tells you, "it just happens," but his smirk makes you wonder just truthful that is.

[murdrdocs]

MDNI 18+

cage fighter logan is a self proclaimed lone wolf. he doesn't need dead weight, anyone asking about a past he doesn't remember. he travels alone, and light. but you aren't someone he travels with.

you find him, again and again, running into him no matter where he goes. and logan would be suspicious. if you spent the same amount of time asking questions as you do on your back, then logan would cut you loose. but you don't. with the two of you, it's strictly physical. and logan likes it that way.

logan doesn't care about treating you how he does because you're so eager to take it like that. you beg him to treat you like you're nothing but another one of the fighters logan faces in the ring, of course with a few differences. and he's so eager to give it to you because truthfully, he's still a man. lone wolf or not, he needs a release he can't get from drunken, over-confident patrons who challenge him.

you give him what he needs.

pressed up against his chest, curled under his chin, you submit to him. your head lolled back, your eyes closed, as logan just breathes. you've never asked him why he does it, why every single time the two of you are together, he takes time to glide his hand down your body. maybe he's taking it all in.

the feeling of your stomach rising and falling beneath the heavy press of his palm. the slope of your tits, temporarily confined beneath the top of your dress. you travel your hand with his, peeking down once or twice to see the stark difference between the sizes of you two. that becomes even more noticeable when he lines himself up with you, purposefully missing your entrance to glide the tip of his cock through your arousal, uncaring of the snail trail left behind as he lifts himself up to lay across your mound and tummy.

"look at that," he'll tell you, prompting both of you to just stare down. you know it'll fit, but it's fun to pretend that it won't. it makes the strength of how he fucks you that much better.

he likes to see you squirm and cry. he likes to pin your wrists down against the bed with his hands and do the same to your hips with his pelvis. he likes to force his cock in you over and over again, enthusiastically taking the control that you have surrendered. he tends to growl throughout, his teeth bared and sometimes sinking into your skin just enough.

it's hard for logan to remember why he doesn't like other people with him whenever you fit so well. it's hard to remember that the two of you have rarely had any conversations that weren't foreplay when you take him so well. it's nice to feel wanted like this, to always have a pretty cunt wide open for him, always ready to take whatever he'll give.

maybe logan will cave and let you tag along with him, get rid of the anticipation between meetings, allow for more spontaneity.

maybe ...

[murdrdocs]

forced … knot…ting…with…logan…

he’s so certain that you can take it. you’re a big girl, you’ve taken so much of him before, this really isn’t that much different. he soothes your worries and wipes away your tears so well that you can’t help but think you can take it, too.

but the uncomfortable burning of it is so strong that you’re whimpering, pushing against logan, panic settling in your face. he shakes his head, holds your face still with one hand on your jaw. and he just fixes you with this look, it’s not demanding. it’s more comforting if anything. and it works. keeps you calm and placated as the base of his cock expands and he plugs his cum in you.

[murdrdocs]

logan calling himself your “old man” :(( saying stuff like “cmere, give your old man a kiss” and “you gettin’ all dolled up like that just for your old man, huh?” WAHHH

having images of logan smacking your ass when you're walking by him, literally minding your business, and he's saying, "all this for your old man?"

[murdrdocs]

Idc how many times you’ve said it every time you mention playfighting w someone it HITS

because because because its just the thought of like the different waysss it could go, yk?

like the domestic route. giggling and play fighting. rolling around like you're in some staged WWE match, hands in fists, legs thrown over hips. shitty trash talk that undermines the strength of the other. "you think you're stronger than me?" being the central question from him. really, you probably aren't stronger than him, but you fight with the confidence that you are. a few low blows attempted, incomplete crotch kicks.

but eventually you have to be out of breath. you're laying back, wrists trapped against the bed, held there by one big hand. and you're just trying to catch your breath, manually introducing air into your lungs while you lazily blink up at the ceiling. he's hovering above you at first, but then you get a second wind, and you kick and thrash all while smiling and his hands are occupied so his only option is to lay on you. and you feel it, the strength of his cock pressing against your belly.

"you're such a fucking perv," said with absolutely no intended bite behind your bark. you really have no room to talk, either, because when you hook your legs around his waist and he slips the thin crotch of your shorts to the side, he feels just how wet you are. just how excited losing a pretend fight got you.

you're not a quitter, so you think you could turn the outcome of the battle when he's starting to think with his dick. but when you lose, again, your defeated laughter is broken up by the feeling of his tip starting to breach your entrance.

it's embarrassing how he pacifies you like this, how all it took was his dick and you're finally shutting up with no fight left in your pliant body.