#sel recs

[logansobsession]

Anything But You Pt. 1

Ft. Logan Howlett x f! Reader- X-men,marvel

( Logan’s your ex husband, leaving you without any explanation on a Sunday morning. It’s been 3 years since the divorce had been finalized.)

Setting- 70’s Logan ( days of future past)

Contains: fluff, smut!!, talks of miscarriage, age gap, receiving oral and fingering, unprotected piv, alcohol usage, blood, wounds, suicidal ideations

Word count: 5k

Authors note: Hi everyone! I really hope this reads well, as it is my first fanfic!! So please gentle with me. It’s a SLOW BURN, my lord is the ending so VERY worth it!!

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You were once happy. Happy and in love with Logan Howlett. It seemed as if it would last forever. However, one Sunday morning, Logan asked you for a divorce. Nothing was necessarily wrong with your marriage so his desire for a divorce came as a complete shock to you. Even after it had been finalized, you were still in a state of shock and absolute denial. You thought that at anytime now, you would wake up in Logan's arms, nothing but a bad dream. A month after the divorce, you had decided to pack your belongings and leave the X-men, knowing it was best for your mental health if you stayed away from Logan as far away as possible. You found a tiny excuse of an apartment within the city, got a job at the nearest clinic, and eventually a second job at a bar.

This was almost three years ago. Logan hasn't seen you since. Never checked in. He made you feel as if he was a ghost. That he was now. A ghost of your past. Logan seemed to be moving on with what he made of his life, in a relationship with a young woman named Cathy. Of course they met in the only spot Logan resides, the bar.

Things started off as a casual fling between the two of them, then eventually they decided to get serious. That had happened about half a year ago.

Logan was currently at a new bar, one Cathy had suggested since it had always been spoken of in a positive manner. The same bar you had just clocked in for your shift two hours ago.

You had been dealing out various drinks, many to the regulars you grown to know and appreciate the small amounts of thanks you received on a basis. However, you dealt with the rowdy new comers, mainly men in college or early 20's. Hitting on you in verbally vulgar forms at that. But you don't blame them. You were only mid 20's, and considered very pretty by everyone. Your body? Your body could have been turned into an Aphrodite rendition statue. Soft, curves in every right spot, never able to hide from the hungry eyes of men.

You had just finished giving the beer you poured for the gentleman that had just walked up to the bar. A gruff thanks from the man as he dropped a dollar into your tip jar. You rested your hands on your hips, staring down at the counter in slight disgust. Two hours in, and the counter is already dirty. That's always been your personal sign saying that it's going to be a long night for you. You look to your left for the towel resting within the towel holder, bolted into the side of the counter.

You felt the blood drain instantly from your face. No warmth to be found in your cheeks. Him. It's him. After three years, Logan is in the bar you're working at. How horribly convenient. Next to him is what you presume is some new fling of his. You look away quickly, eyes down and glued to the counter and you wipe feverishly.

"Why? Why did he have to come here out of all the bars in this stupid city?" you thought to yourself. Noticing your hands were shaking enough to be seen by an innocent bystander, you knew a panic attack was creeping up the back of your neck. You set the towel down and let your coworker know that a break was needed right this very moment.

You grab the jean jacket you had worn into your shift, since it was early fall, and it's not cold enough for anything heavier. You pull the hair tie from your hair, long healthy hair cascading down your back as you quickly made your way to the back door. Gasping in the cold air, you fish out a pack of cigarettes from your pocket, along with the lighter. You take one more gulp of the bitter fall air, in attempts to calm down before resting the cigarette between your lips. A bad habit you picked up after the divorce, damn Logan.

The wind however, denied you this small relief. The flame being flushed out before it could even flash orange. You stand there, flicking the lighter over and over, cursing at the lighter for not doing you any favors.

Logan did see you. Seen how the blood drained from your face, resembling a ghost. His eyes had widen as he watched you exit the building hurriedly. He hadn't expected you to be here, especially as the current bartender. He didn't know what to feel. Logan hasn't seen you in years, so seeing you now brought back a variety of different emotions. Anger, guilt, sadness, to say the least.

As you continued to struggle to light your cigarette, Logan decides to approach you, against his better judgement. He slowly approached you from the back door of the bar, stopping about a yard from you.

"Need a light?" He asked.

You freeze up immediately, taking your attention away from the lighter. You don't bother looking in his direction, afraid to see Logan's face again. The memories. His sudden departure from your life, at his wishes.

The sigh that came from your mouth reeked of frustration, bristling at the idea of having to actually speak to him. However, you know he always has light on him, and the itch in the back of your throats slowly becomes a scream for the cigarette.

" Damn wind keeps knocking the flame out...... Yeah it would be appreciated." You say as you move the chunk of loose hair from your vision, tucking it away behind your ear.

Logan walked forward, taking the lighter gently from your hand and lighting the cigarette. He hands it back to you. Looking at you closely, he noticed quite a few different things. The way you tucked your hair and the subtle shake n your hands when you moved it. He wasn't sure if it was just a little cold or something else. He decided to just ignore those thoughts for the meantime.

"You started working here?"

He asked, his voice steady but quieter than before. He was trying to keep his tone as casual as possible. You stare at your feet, pulling out a long drag from the cigarette. Your head leans back, meeting softly with the brick foundation of the bar. Closing your eyes, you let out the deathly haze of smoke, enjoying the burning in the base of your throat.

"yeah, I did. About two months ago, it's my second job, still working at the clinic outside of town." You say with a tone annoyance creeping up, not wanting to be anywhere but here in this very moment.

Logan's eyebrows raised in mild surprise when you mention that you were working another job. Though he wasn't that shocked by it, you had always been the type to work too hard. Even back when the two of you were together. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his voice a bit gruff as he said, " Damn, you're still working at the medical clinic? Didn't you take on enough hours between the X-Men and the clinic? You need to slow down a bit. Why you working at this shithole?"

You sigh, pulling the jean jacket as close as possible to you. Wind now nipping at your skin through the jacket. You take another drag from the cigarette before toying with the ends of your hair, still in refusal of of making eye contact with Logan.

" Well when you wanted the divorcee, working so much that way it kept me out of the mansion was a much better option than sitting there receiving pity from Scott and the others, all because I the girl the infamous Logan Howlett decided to discard from his life." You say pointedly, lacing with annoyance.

Logan's jaw clenched when you brought up the divorce. His heart sunk slightly and his hand balled up into fists inside of his pockets at the memory. He kept his expression as stoic as possible, refusing to look emotional in front of you. "You need to get over that." He said in a monotone way, voice quiet but harsh regardless.

Damn. I really hurt her that much, he thought to himself. Though he shouldn't feel sympathy for you, it still hurt that you seemed to be suffering from the way he ended things.

You stop playing with your hair, and look him straight on. Locking eyes with him, you point your fingers holding the cigarette at him. Biting back the bile rising up in your throat, you rudely say "YOU DO NOT get to tell me when and why I need to get over this Logan. You of all people know what abandonment from the ones you love feels like. You still haven't gotten over it, so you have zero room to tell a person to simply get over something." You angrily take the last drag from your cigarette before tossing it to the ground and stomping it. You look back up at him, fire and pain swirling angrily within your eyes " Go fuck yourself Logan." and begin to walk away.

Logan stares right back at you. his expression darkens at your words. Your comment hits him like a stab in the stomach, and it pisses him off but he bites his tongue hard to prevent himself from saying something more. Seeing you crush the cigarette on the ground and begin to walk away, something in him snaps. Maybe it's because seeing you again has brought back so many memories. Perhaps it's guilt, anger, bitterness. Whatever it is, he reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can turn away completely.

You recoil at the touch of Logan's hand around your wrist. Anger seeping out of every pore of your body. "Let go" You say quietly, trying to tug your wrist free from his grasp. You hang your head back, looking away from Logan's face, avoiding any more anger to come out.

Logan tightens his grip on your wrist when you attempt to tug it free from him. He looks down at you, his stare almost burning through your skin. His eyes narrowed as he says, his tone as serious as possible, " No. I'm not going to let you walk away. Not this time."

His voice isn't harsh like it was before. It's steady and more firm, as if he's demanding you listen to him. " Yeah? Let me walk away?" you say with a bitter laugh. " YOU WALKED AWAY!" You raise your voice, letting the wall holding back your anger come down. " You walked away Logan. Not me. I cried for months after you decided you were bored of me. I hope you're so in love with that trailer trash excuse of a woman sitting the bar." You say before spitting in his face. You tug your wrist free from Logan's death grip, and walk away.

Logan stood there and took it. Everything you said and when you spat in his face. If it had been anyone else, it would've ended differently. But instead of reacting defensively or even violently at your action, he stood there and took it, wiping the spit off his forehead. He didn't say anything for a few moments, just watching your back as you stormed off, before he finally spoke.

"We both know I was never in love with you."

You stopped dead in your tracks. The sentence bouncing through your head like someone had just taken a hammer to it. You slowly bent over to grab the rock that sat innocently next to your foot. You stood up, debating if this was a good idea. But in this moment, you didn't care anymore. You turned and threw the rock at Logan in one fluid movement.

"HOW DARE YOU! Never loved you? We were planning on trying for a baby after we lost the first. You can't handle someone that plans to stick around forever. You were scared and still are. Collecting god knows how many women to bring home at night. Leave me the fuck alone Logan because I swear to god if you say anything else, I will get in my car and run you over and over until I can finally be the one to kill the fucking Wolverine." You say before walking back into the car. Tears streaming down your cheeks, you let your manager know that you had to leave right this moment. You snatched your keys up and walked out the front door to your car.

Logan just stood in silence as you unloaded on him with such anger and resentment. Every harsh word that was thrown his way made his heart sink in his chest. He felt guilty deep down for what he had done to you, but at the same time, he didn't think you had the right to react this way. The rock you threw hit him square in the chest, not that he cared enough to react to it. Logan was left alone out in the cold now, watching retreat back into the bar; before coming back out momentarily. He watched silently as you made your way over to your car.

You reach the car door, sniffling and sobbing at this point. You finally get into the car and flick the visor down. Staring back at you was a tear stained version of you within the mirror. Along with the picture of you and Logan. When we were happy, or so you thought. You screamed angrily and slammed your hand against the steering wheel, snatching the picture from its spot and fishing out the lighter from your jacket. You were burning that picture in the car, even if it meant you got burned or worse.

Logan just watched you retreat to your car, still reeling from your words. He was about to walk away and get his bike when he heard the scream. Logan's head snapped in the direction of your car. He quickly scanned you, seeing the picture and lighter in hand. His eyes widened at the sight and immediately knew what you were about to do with it. He didn't think, just acted out of instinct. He started running over to your car as quickly as he could without just straight up using his powers.

You flicked the lighter, releasing the orange hued fire from it. Watching it dance in the wind of your ragged breaths, you bring it slowly to the corner where Logan's smiling face had been. The flame quickly licked at the worn out photo, you stare at it and rub your tears from your face. Logan didn't slow down for a second as he tried to get to you on time. He cursed to himself as he realized he probably wouldn't make it in time.

He couldn't even speak, as he had no idea what he'd say to you. He just needed to stop you from burning that picture for some reason the couldn't explain. As the flame eats away the memory of Logan's face and body, you watch the photo brown before blackening into ash. "Men. They take and take and take. Then leave you and break your heart. That's all they're good for I suppose." You say to yourself while holding the half burnt picture.

Logan was only a couple yards away, but he stopped for a moment when he heard you speak. He looked at the picture in your hand, the image of him being burned away. His face and body no longer visible, only ash remaining. He didn't know why seeing you burn the picture pissed him off, but it did. He closed the gap between the two of you, finally reaching your car. He banged on the window angrily, yelling your name to get your attention.

The banging on your window snapped you out of your trance from the dancing flame. Logan. Of course he can't take a hint to leave you alone. You stare him straight in the eyes, Holding up what's left of the burning photo for him to see. Knowing he will only hear muffled words you still speak " I have had this since the day it was taken. You made it clear, crystal clear Logan. The last part of you is right here and I'm getting rid of it and moving far away."

Logan couldn't help the slight wince he gave when you held up the burning photo. His jaw clenched as he watched the last of it burn to ash, right in front of him. He knew it was already too late to try and salvage it. He didn't want to admit it, but seeing the picture destroyed pissed him off more than he thought. He just couldn't understand why it bothered him so bad. He slammed his fist against the car window again. " Get out of the god damn car and talk to me."

You continue your gaze, staring into the nonexistent soul Logan had. You wipe your hands clean from the ash, letting it sit in your lap. "You can let me leave willingly and go crawl back to trailer trash Cathy. I'm going home so I can pack my belongings ad return to my mother's on the other side of the country.

Logan clenched his fist at your words, his practically cracking from how hard he was clenching. Hearing those words you said just now sent a wave of anger through his body. He took a couple deep breaths, trying to control himself enough so wouldn't do something he'd regret. He knocked on the window again, more irritated this time. "Y/N. Open the god damn door and get out of the car."

You shook your head and laughed in a vindictive manner. " No Logan. I don't think I will. Because what little bit of hope and love that I had for you, you crushed right out of me not even ten minutes ago. I don't care what you want. I don't care about you. I hope that adamantium skeleton crushes you from the inside out." You finish, before turning the key over and pulling the shifter into drive.

Logan's eyes flared anger at your comment. He didn't understand why you were acting like such a brat right now, but it just pissed him off even more. Hearing your last comment actually hurt, but he wasn't going to let you know that. He slammed his hand against the car window, creating a small crack in it. He couldn't stand that you were driving off without him able to say something. He was desperate to get you to listen to him.

You watch Logan's figure grow smaller as you pull out of the parking lot. You grab your phone from the cup holder, dialing your mom's number. She answers and you cry again, explaining the events that just took place, telling her that you needed to move back home. You reach your apartment complex after half an hour, unlocking the door and heading straight for your bed.

Logan stood in the parking lot, breathing heavily and angrily. He watched as your car disappeared from view, still unable to do anything. He wanted to follow you, but he had no idea where you lived anymore. He knew that he could easily track you down, but stopped himself from doing so. Thinking about your last comment kept replaying in his mind as he and Cathy got on the bike. A small part of him felt guilty for hurting you, but he shoved it down. Logan decided going home with Cathy was the only thing he could do to distract himself.

You lay in bed, sobbing with pure anger coursing through your veins. You needed something to do before you ended up hurting yourself or someone else. You stand up and head over to your closet, rummaging in the back. You pull out a box from the very back of the closet marked "Logan." You hoisted it up to stomach level before bringing it over to the bed. You sit down and open the box up, meeting the smiling Logan picture you had taken with the polaroid camera that he had bought you for your birthday one year. "why..." you said softly, allowing more tears to fall.

Meanwhile, Logan was in his hotel room, tossing and turning in bed. He couldn't sleep, even after spending hours trying to distract himself by drinking and sleeping with Cathy. No matter what he tried, something in his head kept nagging at him to get up and seek you out. Logan felt even about everything after sleeping with Cathy. He let out a frustrate groan at his own inner thoughts. He just didn't understand why he was so bothered by what you had said, especially the last part.

You carefully pull out every picture, every little ticket stub, anything involving Logan, out of the box. You throw your hair up into a sad excuse of a bun, staring at everything with a deeper newfound hurt within your heart. "How could he say we were never in love? When everything right here says otherwise....Right?" You say out loud to yourself, in disbelief that Logan would even dare to make a comment like that. "Or was it all just something to pass the time for him?"

Logan had gone back to bed a half hour after walking around the hotel room. He sat up in bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He was staring into nothing but empty darkness, thinking about tonight's interactions. The same words kept running through his head like they were on a loop.

"Never loved you..."

"Never loved you..."

"Never loved you..."

He clenched his jaw again, hearing those words replay over and over, driving him damn near insane. He ran a calloused hand over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Drinking vodka straight from the bottle, you curse Logan's existence. Alcohol was not something you lived off of, like him. Well, at least until the divorce. It was the only common factor in your life, and it helped you sleep at night. Without it, you spent the entire night, tossing and turning. Seeing and dreaming of nothing but Logan's face. Men were never on the table for self discussion after Logan. He was the most perfect man in your eyes. Sure, he had his long list of issues, as did you. But somehow, two broken people, made one whole. So why would you even try to find that again? Just to have a paper trail of heartbreak after heartbreak? No thanks, you'll stick to vodka and lonely nights in this run down shit excuse of an apartment, right outside of the busiest part of the city.

You had discarded the idea of looking through the box anymore, planning to throw it away in the morning when you began packing. Vodka and the hottest bath on Earth would be the temporary solution to a permanent problem, you thought to yourself. After running the bath, you sank down into the scolding heat of the bath. Far enough down that it tickled right underneath your nose. The thought of going under and never coming back up for air was beginning to form easily in the back of your mind with nearly an entire bottle of vodka in your system.

Over at his hotel, Logan couldn't take sitting there anymore. He was jut thinking and thinking about you and everything you had said to him. He finally got out of the bed, careful enough to avoid waking Cathy. He made his way into the bathroom, splashing water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like hell. He had dark circles under his eyes and his facial hair was scruffed around in a disgusting way. He splashed more water on his face, trying to get it together and stop the intrusive thoughts that were quickly taking over his mind.

Back at your apartment, you continue dancing around the idea of never having to carry the pain anymore. Taking one large gulp of air, you plunge the rest of your head underwater. Lungs screaming out and burning for air, feeling almost too good for you in this very moment. The thoughts of Logan and the events that took place today swirling through a dangerous storm within your head. The mourning of your miscarriage sending you completely over the edge. You resurface as fast as you had gone down. Gasping for air that you lungs so desperately needed, before dragging yourself out of the tub. You wrap yourself up in a towel before staring at yourself in the cracked mirror. "Alone, broken, miserable, fucking Jesus.. I can't fucking do this any more" you thought to yourself, feeling the vodka getting the best of you. You yell at yourself in anger before punching out the mirror. The start of everything down hill. Anything that could be picked up, was thrown. Anything you could think of, broken or damaged severely. The tears had come flowing again, all the while, cursing Logan's existence and the fact that he came and left so quickly from your life with no remorse.

Logan was in the middle of brushing his teeth, a desperate attempt to make himself appear more presentable than he had since you drove off earlier that night. His head suddenly jarred from the pain that came about. It was a pain that almost hit him like a truck. He dropped the toothbrush out of his mouth, gripping the counter hard enough to hear the porcelain crack beneath his grip in attempts to keep himself standing upright. He grunted quietly, the pain quickly increasing and only getting worse by the minute. In a small moment of clarity, he knew something was wrong. Just by a gut feeling..

You continue throwing things within the four tiny walls that made up your bathroom. Ignoring the raging headache and the blood trickling down your hand from the piece of mirror you had grabbed to throw. You no longer have anything to throw, everything unsalvageable. Leaning against the wall and sliding down it until your bottom hit the cold tiling of the floor. You're still warm from the alcohol, but knowing that you're more than likely freezing from the soaked bath towel still clinging to your skin. You look down at your hand, to inspect the cut you had self inflicted. Clean, precise almost. Something simply superficial that you can mend when you're sober. The last thing you need tonight is explaining to a doctor "Oh yeah, this? I threw a temper tantrum because I ran into my ex and accidentally cut my hand during said temper tantrum with a broke piece of my bathroom mirror."

Logan was starting to get a feeling of intense anxiety and dread, almost as if someone was in danger. He closed his eyes, focusing on it for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on. Suddenly, a realization hit him.

You.

He was feeling something from you. That's the source of the headache he got and he just knew it. He gripped the counter harder, knuckles white before the porcelain shattered beneath the intensity of his grip. Logan didn't know what was going on, but he was starting to panic.

You finally get up from the floor of the bathroom, You stare at the shattered bottle that once held your sweet ticket to sleep. You carefully walk around the debris and out of the bathroom, making your way into the kitchen to the special cupboard. The cupboard that held your ability to sleep and function at home. You opened the door, nothing. Empty as you felt all night. " Great, a fucking alcoholic, just like my ex-husband." you mutter to yourself as you slam the cupboard shut. You definitely were beginning to feel the pain in your hand, a sign that you were not sleeping tonight if you didn't go out and pick up more vodka. You trudged to your bedroom, peeling the towel from your body. You threw on some underwear and a bra, before rummaging through your drawers. You pause, momentarily before grabbing a battered pair of sweatpants. Logan's sweatpants you had managed to steal from him before he left forever. You slid them on and threw a white long sleeve on. You grabbed your jacket once you walked to the living room, slipping it while sliding your shoes on. You lock your apartment door, exiting the building and beginning your sad excuse of an adventure to the nearest liquor store that was 24 hours.

Logan was practically pacing around the room, the headache and anxiety only getting worse. It also felt like he was having a feeling of deja vu. He let out a frustrated curse, knowing he wasn't getting anywhere like this. Whatever was going on with you felt...familiar. And that realization was only making him panic more. Logan mumbled a few words, laced with curses, while throwing his leather jacket and boots on. Stalking out of the room, heading to his motorcycle. He needed to find you and fast before something bad happened...

Stumbling down the sidewalk, constantly brushing the hairs that had escaped from your bun, you tripped an fell. " Fuck....." you exclaim to yourself as you used your wounded hand as a brace for impact. You get up slowly, pain surging through your hands and knees from the fall. The walk to the store becoming much slower.

Logan had finally gotten on his bike, revving the engine and starting it. He took off down the road, heading in the direction he figured would lead him to you. He knew it was a bit of a shot in the dark, but he had a gut feeling and he couldn't shake it. He could start to get a slightly better idea of where you were on the other side, though it wasn't quite strong enough to pinpoint exactly where you were at. Logan was just going to have to drive around until he found you unfortunately.

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I'm so sorry for the drop of guys :(((( But I will hopefully have part two up by tomorrow evening! Again, I really hope you enjoyed!

[thinkinonsense]

so so so hot

'bad idea, right?' 18+ dofp!logan x f!reader

summary: your father hired him to protect you, not to fuck you. but logan never really liked playing by the rules. (1.7k) tags: set in the 70s, logan goes down on reader, fingering, squirting, lots of dirty talk, messy, overstimulation if you squint, logan calls the reader 'princess, babygirl' etc, for the 'timetravel' prompt for logan promptober.

"that's it, there we go. . ." logan hums, his voice muffled as he eagerly laps at you with his large tongue, "daddy never let you have any fun, babygirl?"

he grins, ". . . but, daddy ain't here right now though, is he?"

you know this is a bad idea, know you shouldn't be doing this. your father's vengeance upon the stranger between your thighs would be so swift and cruel, but you find yourself unable to care.

his tongue expertly drifts through your wet folds as he groans, sending reverberations right to your core. those large, calloused paws of his grip at your thighs, his thick digits pressing into your soft flesh deeply. he's messy, the best kind of messy, lapping at you like an animal, like a man deprived.

"taste so fuckin' good," he grumbles against your pussy, deep hazel eyes finally opening to look up at you. they're glazed, and so is he, his chin dripping with your slick. but he's not done with you yet, "look how fuckin' wet you are already, you're literally dripping. . ."

your cheeks flush at his almost mocking tone, fingers threading through his hair as if to encourage him. you're not sure how you got here, except you are. the moment he walked through that door, sent by your father to protect you, you felt an ache build between your legs.

you could tell he sensed it too, the way his words and sentences were crafted almost expertly to have you wet and wanting all within twenty minutes of first laying eyes on him. no other guard has ever had you moaning like this, soaked like this, splayed out on your back like this.

but you're pulled from your thoughts when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently. your head falls back, moans spilling out into the apartment your father had rented as the man your father had rented devours you.

"such pretty sounds," logan growls against you, tongue flicking before pressing flat against you, "you're gonna wake the neighbours. c'mon, let 'em hear what i'm doin' to you."

your head is spinning, his words causing heat to pool low in your belly. he nuzzles against you, nose brushing against your swollen clit before he dives back down to your entrance, tongue dipping back inside to fuck you. it's almost too much, the way he makes light work of you as if it's so easy, as if he knows your body better than you know it, without even knowing more than just your name.

"that's it," he coos, grinning between your thighs as he kisses his way back up to your swollen bud once more, "moan for me, wanna hear you scream. i told you, want them to hear how good i'm fuckin' you." that's when you feel them, his thick fingers circling against your hole, teasing you, almost warning you.

but it's not a warning, it's a promise. one that you want - no, fuck that, one that you need. you roll your hips a little in response, moaning and whimpering beneath him, pleading without words.

logan smirks, he knows what you need, of course he knows. he saw the way you eyed his hands, the way you watched him flex them subconsciously - he knew you wanted them buried inside of your begging cunt as soon as he entered the apartment, could smell your want, your hunger.

he was paid to protect you, after all, and how better to protect you than to keep you fucked out in his hands at all times?

just one, at first. one finger slides inside, testing you. it's tight, really tight, and wet, a soft slick sound filling the air as his finger slides inside of you. "oh, been a good girl have you?" logan teases, but it's not like he cares how many people you've been with before him. he's the only one who's ever going to matter, anyway.

then another, you're gasping and moaning at the feeling of him filling you. his fingers are pretty big, much bigger than your own. his tongue dances across your clit, urging you to relax as he stretches you, and you do. he feels you settling, a groan rumbling from his throat as he eases into you.

but when a third finger enters on the next thrust, you're gripping the sheets and calling his name. it's thick, his three fingers filling you almost completely. you wonder how big he actually is and how he compares to his fingers, but your thoughts dissipate as he begins pumping them in and out of you steadily.

"that's it, there we go. . ." logan hums, his voice muffled as he eagerly laps at you with his large tongue, "daddy never let you have any fun, babygirl?"

he grins, ". . . but, daddy ain't here right now though, is he?"

your breath catches in your throat, looking down at him through hooded lids as he fucks his fingers into you faster. his eyes are locked on yours, lips and tongue lavishing your clit with the attention he knows it deserves.

"never had a man like me before, have ya?" logan mumbles, mouth half full with you, "never had a man to really show you how it's done."

you'd answer if you could, but your mind feels like liquid, unable to form or grip any solid coherent thought other than you don't want this to stop, don't want it to ever stop. instead, you tug at his hair, moaning his name over and over like a prayer. his name tastes sweet on your lips, a name you know you'll be calling out in a lust-filled haze on nights when you're particularly lonely. nights where you want, crave the touch from that stranger who nestled between your thighs and lapped like you were a fresh spring and he, a desperate parched man.

he feels you flutter around his fingers and he smirks against your clit. the sweet symphony of your moans reverberating against his ears has his dick twitching in his jeans, aching for release, aching to replace his fingers.

but not now, not while you're writhing so perfectly for him, coming undone at just a few strokes. you wonder how you would handle his cock when you're already close to bursting with his fingers, but who could blame you? the way he curls and pumps and glides them in and out of your tight pussy, you'd think he already knew all of your sweet spots, knew you inside out, without knowing you at all.

logan is just a stranger, but you know the memory of him will be burned between your thighs, making you throb, forever.

"gonna cum, aren't you?" he growls against you, picking up the pace. his fingers curl just slightly, enough to brush against your spongey g-spot on the next thrust, just enough for you to tense up and gasp.

you can't deny it either, there's a tidal wave coming that threatens to destroy you. it's rising slowly. you can't stop it. and it's crafted by him, by the man between your thighs. but you don't want to stop it, you just worry about who you'll be when you resurface on the other side, gasping for air, lost at sea, changed forever.

nodding, you let a whine slip from your lips, feeling a sensation build, your breathing ragged. it's coming, you're cumming. and instead of taking it easy on you, calming the waters, logan encourages the overwhelming waves with a curl of his fingers.

that's all it takes, all it takes for you to cum harder than you've ever cum before. you feel a gush, hot liquid coating your thighs and along his face as he fucks his three fingers into you deeper, hitting that same spot in every thrust. you're screaming his name, fist clenching in his hair in an iron grip as you roll your hips against his face. he's taking it too, tongue assaulting your clit in all the right ways to increase the pitch of your desperate screams.

and he loves it, loves the way you become so messy for him, coating those fresh sheets and his skin. he's moaning too, not that you can hear it over your ecstasy, but it's there, low like a growl beneath every cry.

"good girl. . ." he groans, pumping his fingers in and out of you relentlessly as you clench around him rhythmically, feeling his cock throb in his jeans at the sensation. he just knows you'll take him so well, knows you'll sound even better when it's his fat cock you're cumming around instead of his fingers.

it's almost too much, feeling yourself come apart at the seams as he stitches you back together with those calloused fingers of his through each thrust. and just as quickly as the waves come, they calm all at once, washing over you slowly, sending goosebumps rippling across your soft, supple skin. logan slows too, licking stripes along your cunt to catch the remnants of your release.

"holy shit," he grins wolfishly, proudly as he presses a few kisses to the inside of your thigh, "don't need to introduce myself to the neighbours anymore, i guess, already know me by name."

you flush deeply, running your fingers through your hair as you release his, resting back against the bed fully. there's a witty quip on the tip of your tongue, but it melts away at the feeling of him pulling his fingers out of you.

"this. . . can't happen again," you whisper, shaking your head as your eyes fix on the ceiling above you.

but logan smirks, he knows you don't really mean that. knows you're just trying to convince yourself that you won't crave him in your core, that he won't flash in your mind when another person finds their home between your thighs.

"whatever you say, princess," he shrugs, sitting up as he wipes your delicious slick from his beard and chin.

you glance up at him, his bare chest, muscles tensing coupled with those pretty blue jeans. fuck. fuck. this wasn't happening. dad would kill him, kill you too probably.

"but," you find yourself beginning to speak, unable to stop the words from fighting their way out, "suppose it could be our secret. . . if it did."

ah, there it is. there's the admission logan knew was coming. he knew it was gonna come the second he wrapped his lips around that swollen little clit of yours. you just needed someone to fuck you right, fuck you proper, fuck you dirty like you deserve.

besides, logan never really liked playing by the rules, anyway.

[mythology-void]

this is the only thing I want in servant of the crown/reluctant leader stories

Not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing (so hopelessly devoted the lines blur)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ari!! i am dropping by to give some good vibes & good weather for the weekend!! 🥹🌤️ & am also curious!! what song reminds you of any of your blorbos? 🥺

sel !!!! tysm ur so sweet, im sending u sunlight and flowers n treats :3 ☀️☀️☀️🌻🌻🍰🍰🍪🍪 i hope ur weekend is full of rest n the fluffiest vibes !! <3

aaaa thats such a good question too !!!!! i have a lot for gojo n geto, and then some for megumi n shoko too i think … im just gonna put it all under the cut in case it gets long i !!!! love love love assigning songs to my blorbos <333

FIRST OF ALL …. sel. u know how i am w gojo….. phshdhs i have a bunchhh of different songs i associate w him but !! here r a couple :>

ok so first !! i firmly believe that gojo is a swiftie so i legally have to assign him a taylor swift song n this is basic but ’cruel summer’ is just so HIM. i especially think of hs gojo when i hear it !!

so cut the headlights, summer’s a knife // i’m always waiting for you just to cut to the bone // devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes // and if i bleed, you’ll be the last to know

also ….. pinkpantheress ….. i dont know WHY i just get big gojo vibes when i listen to her songs 😭😭😭 … i firmly believe he’d listen to her too. i esp associate him w ’break it off’, ’capable of love’ and ’close to you’!!! the lyrics remind me sm of him too :’) i !! love our lonely babyboy !!!!

you can’t even sleep when you turn the lights off // white noise in your head makes it harder to breathe // but easier to tell me when it’s time for me to leave

this happened at the start, everytime we try we fall apart // you can’t seem to hold my heart // close to you // and i know that you make it clear that you want me out of here // though it’s loneliness you fear // close to you

and i think i need a picture ’cause it’s never enough // to see you smilin’ in my mind when i lay still in the dark // it starts with you

i’m obsessed with the idea that one day it breaks up // ’cause after that, i know i’ll never be as capable of love // after you

and then !! and then !!! ’be nice to me’ by the front bottoms is my favorite ever n its !! so so gojo !!!! reminds me sm of him and sugu ;(

if we all left it alone // i’m sure it’d work itself out fine // we keep playing with the numbers // we are running out of time

but you’re a killer // and i’m your best friend // think it’s unfair, your situation // you say i’m changing // sorry, i didn’t know i had to stay the same

and you’re a werewolf and i’m a full moon // and all your very worst enemies will be gone soon // i think you’re changing // don’t worry, you don’t gotta stay the same

(also …. ’fighter’ by jack stauber …. yeaaa. gojocoded)

call me fighter, i’ll mop the floor with you // call me lover, i’ll take you for a drink or two // you’ll get older, and maybe then you’ll feel some control

now as for geto …………. i think i have a billion angsty geto songs but tbh above all else hes so mitski coded. he IS mitski. ’last words of a shooting star’ and ’why didnt you stop me?’ were literally written for geto idc . this is just sooo …. T_T my doomed boy

all of this turbulance wasn’t forecasted // apologies from the intercom // and i am relieved that i’d left my room tidy // they’ll think of me kindly when they come for my things

they’ll never know how i’d stared at the dark in that room // with no thoughts // like a blood-sniffing shark

i always wanted to die clean and pretty // but i’d be too busy on working days // so i am relieved that the turbulance wasn’t forecasted // i couldn’t have changed anyways

i know that i ended it, but // why won’t you chase after me? // you know me better than i do // so why didn’t you stop me?

and then shoko !! hhh for some reason i associate her a lot w penelope scott … i think ’moonsickness’ especially !! and and and … ’ribs’ by lorde :( i think of her when i listen to it n then i cry. ’cigarettes out the window’ by tv girl is another one !!

blood clots, death camps, glitz and depressions // the business cycle and the tides // you fuckers know it’s all built on lies // but the beast refuses to die // and so i guess, well, neither can i

this dream isn’t feeling sweet // we’re reeling through the midnight streets // and i’ve never felt more alone // it feels so scary, getting old

and finally !!!! gumi !!!! :D ok so sel i know we both agree when i say hes the neighbourhood coded. like pretty boy, cry baby, softcore etc etc hes just sooo… yeah.

but !! for some reason i also rly rly associate him w beabadoobee ….. maybe just cuz i think he would like her music. ’apple cider’ makes me think of him everytime i listen to it, im not sure why it just feels so gumi to me ?? esp college gumi !! ’care’ is another beabadoobee song that reminds me of him

and i don’t even like you that much // wait, i do, fuck

you said you liked my hair // so go ahead and touch it // you said you liked the jumper i wore // and so i always wore it

so call me at midnight // ask you if it’s alright // to have a sleepover // to drink some apple cider // or maybe some fruit punch // and we can talk about how we don’t like each other that much

and then theres another one i cant really explain bc its just vibe based pahshhdh BUT … ’cool with you’ by newjeans is so gumi to me .

THIS WAS SO FUN ty for the question sel !!!! makes me wanna make playlists for everyone hhhh ….. 🥺🥺 my blorbos of all time

[thinkinonsense]

best fic i've read in a while <333

for always and ever is always for you

old man!logan x healer!reader

word count: 15.2k

summary: logan is getting sicker by the day, and charles' seizures are occurring more and more frequently. logan didn't think he'd ever see you again - but desperate times call for desperate measures.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, descriptions of blood and illness, angst, logan's pov, reader is afab, language, slow burn as far as one-shots go, no use of y/n, caliban being sassy, mutual pining, friends to lovers, unprotected p in v, oral (m&f receiving), face sitting, cream pie, some dirty talk and pet names

author's note: thank you @embbarnes for reading this and letting me rant about it and assuring me that it's worth posting 🫶🏻 this took me an embarrassing amount of time and i have to say i am pretty proud of it. flashbacks are in italics

divider by @saradika-graphics!

“This is the third time in the last week, you know.”

Logan stares down at the deep red splatters of blood that creep towards the drain. The skin of his knuckles begin to turn white from how harshly he grips the edges of the sink – he’s surprised the ceramic doesn’t shatter. He turns the faucet on, lowering his lips to the weak stream to collect enough water to rinse the taste of iron from his mouth.

“I know that,” Logan spits the now pink tinged water into the bowl and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You don’t think I fuckin’ know that? I’m the one hacking my lungs up here.” He shoves past Caliban, exiting the small bathroom.

Logan doesn’t want to snap at him – hates that it happens as often as it does. But right now he’s late for work and the last thing he needs is to hear Caliban harping on about this again while he scrambles to find his car keys.

“You know I hate to keep bringing this up,” Caliban continues as he follows Logan into the makeshift kitchen of the abandoned smelting plant.

“I find that hard to believe,” Logan mumbles under his breath. He finds his keys hidden under some junk mail and shoves them in his coat pocket before pouring himself some coffee to take with him to work. It’s day old and not as strong as he’d like for it to be, but he’ll be glad that he has it when midnight rolls around.

“Charles,” Caliban continues. “The medications are doing very little to help him anymore. We’re having to give him twice as much as we were a month ago, which means we are running out twice as fast. He’s getting worse. You both are. We need to find a… specialist that can help with both of our problems.”

Logan snorts in response, practically able to feel Caliban’s eyes burning holes in the back of his head.

“There ain’t a thing that any doctor can do for me and you know it.”

Maybe Logan hasn’t had the flu, or strep throat, or even the common cold in two hundred odd years, but he knows there’s no prescription that any physician can write that would stop his very bones from poisoning him.

“Let me rephrase that, then. Not a doctor. You need to see a healer.”

Logan freezes, his posture going rigid.

“If you’re about to say what I think you’re going to say, I suggest shutting the fuck up.”

“He’s had a record number of seizures so far this week,” Caliban implores. “You’re barely standing upright. There’s a chance that she could help you both.”

“She’s out of the question,” Logan spits before storming past him. He yanks the door open and slams it closed behind him as he steps into the late evening Mexico sun.

How does Caliban even know about you? Some of Charles’ rambling in his rare moments of lucidity, no doubt.

It doesn’t matter if you can help or not.

For a lot of reasons, it doesn’t matter.

The most obvious one being he hasn’t talked to you in over a year and doesn’t know where the fuck you’re at.

••••••

“You don’t have to stay back there, you know. You can come closer. You’re not in my way.”

There’s no hint of condescension in your voice. Only patience, and reassurance. Still, Logan doesn’t budge from his position in the corner of the mansion’s infirmary.

You don’t press him any further.

He had lost track of how long he’d been standing here, just watching in complete silence as you tend to the young mutant’s injuries.

Logan doesn’t even know the kid’s name. He doesn’t know any of their names. But he’d been the one to find all five of them in a locked cell on today’s mission, and he isn’t going to leave this room until he knows that they are all okay.

You’d already taken care of four out of the five. They now rest peacefully in individual beds, no doubt the warmest and safest they’ve been in God knows how long.

Your hands hover a few inches above a young boy’s chest, emitting a pale purple glow as you wave them over his torso, letting your powers radiate from your palms into his body.

Logan notices the color of your power isn’t as vibrant as it was when you’d healed the first child’s injuries, or the second, or third. Originally a bright violet, it’s now a lackluster lavender.

He also doesn't miss the way that you suddenly close your eyes with furrowed brows, but he remains in the corner, watching you carefully. You dig your teeth into the flesh of your bottom lip in concentration, causing Logan to take an involuntary step forward at the pained expression on your face.

Your hands drop down to the railing of the bed that the boy lays in, clutching the bars to keep you from falling over as the energy you’d been emitting fades away.

“Shit,” you huff, out of breath. A thin layer of perspiration glistens on your forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asks as he moves closer to you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you grunt, nodding as you look up at him. You give him a forced smile that does very little to reassure him. “I’m fine. It’s just been a while since I’ve had to use so much of my powers in such a short amount of time.”

“Maybe you should sit down for a minute, yeah?” Logan looks around the infirmary, walking a few feet away to grab a chair for you. He places it next to the bed that you’re still using for support.

“I’ll be as good as new soon,” you assure him as you take a seat. “This happens occasionally.”

Logan stands beside you, awkwardly leaning against the edge of an empty bed next to the boy’s. He watches as you lean forward, taking the kid’s small hand in your own. There’s no resurgence of purple – you’re simply holding it. The boy is sound asleep, so the act makes Logan wonder if it’s for his comfort or your own.

“If I exert too much energy at once, I feel the effects of it. Not enough to really hurt me, just.. leave me feeling like I need to sleep for a week,” you explain with a weak chuckle. Logan’s eyes are fixated on the way that your thumb soothes over the skin of the boy’s hand.

“A gift that comes with a price,” Logan murmurs. “I know how that feels. Though it sometimes feels more like a curse in my case.” He instinctively glances down at his knuckles, his claws sheathed away.

“I can see how it would feel that way,” you agree, glancing up at him with a soft expression. “But it’s not what your power is that determines whether it’s a curse or a gift. It’s what you do with it. And these kids are alive because of you. A lot of people are, because you choose to use it for good. I’d say that makes it a gift.”

“I guess I should try to look at it that way more often,” he hums.

“Plus, having the ability to heal yourself has gotta be pretty neat. I think you’re the only person here who would never have to ask me for my help.” You glance back up at him, a hint of a smirk ghosting your lips.

They’re pretty, he thinks – your lips. He mentally scolds himself, knowing now isn’t the time or place to be thinking about your lips.

“You can count on that, bub.”

When Logan wakes, he doesn’t have the chance to mourn the memory he’d found himself reliving in his sleep.

He does find himself on the floor by his bed with the breath knocked from his lungs. His hands come to shield his ears, attempting to block out the high-pitched shrieking that makes his ear canals feel as if they are filling with blood.

Judging by the sunlight streaming into his room through the thin, tattered curtains covering his windows, he guesses that it’s mid-afternoon. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours – meaning it also couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he had given Charles his most recent dose of medicine.

With the world shaking around him, a half empty bottle of liquor and an old coffee mug both shatter as they fall off of his bedside table and hit the ground.

Logan and Caliban had recently cleared off all shelves in the smelting plant, moving anything that could potentially fall and break during one of Charles’ episodes closer to the ground, but after a long night of driving around drunk assholes, it’s easy to forget that even a ceramic cup on a small table is a hazard.

He can tell by the way that the air around him feels as if it weighs ten tons that Charles has to be close by. He musters all of his strength to force himself to his feet. Each movement feels as if he’s in slow motion as he fights against the psionic energy that works to keep him frozen in place.

As slow as if he has hundred pound weights attached to each of his feet, he makes his way from his bedroom and to the common area. When he turns the corner, he first sees Caliban, still as a statue with his facial features contorted in agony and his typically alabaster skin turning redder by the second from the pain. He’s less than a foot away from where Charles sits in his wheelchair, where he appears to have been watching a movie.

Logan frantically looks around the room, searching for where he had placed the bag of injections and pills when he’d forced Charles into swallowing his last dose just a few hours ago.

He finds it on what is used as a dining room table. It’s sheer good luck that Logan had thought to prepare an emergency dose of the injection earlier that day, most likely thanks to Caliban’s lecture from yesterday evening still looming in the back of his mind.

After what feels like hours, Logan finally reaches Charles with the injection and plunges the needle into his chest. The second that the medication enters his system, the seizure ceases.

Caliban and Logan both collapse to the ground in relief. Logan clutches his chest, trying to steady his heartbeat and regulate his breathing.

“You dream of her just as she dreams of you,” Charles whimpers through labored breaths.

“What?” Logan snaps, glaring at Charles from his position on the dirty floor. His ears must still be ringing from the effects of the seizure, because he can’t have heard him right. “Quit reading my mind.”

“Your thoughts are always loud when you think of her,” Charles murmurs, turning his attention back to the movie on the screen in front of him as if nothing had happened.

It's the first time, Logan realizes, that Charles has mentioned you since the day of his first seizure. Even without specifically saying your name, Logan knows exactly who he’s referring to.

“Make that four incidents this week,” Caliban grumbles as he jerks the plastic bag filled with medication out of Logan’s hand. He digs through it, pulling out a pill bottle and dumping two into his palm. “He’s averaging an episode per day, and each one feels stronger than the last. It’s only a matter of time before he kills–”

“Do you know where she’s at? Can you track her?” Logan interrupts him. Caliban pauses to look at him, visibly annoyed.

“Oh, so it’s a good idea now that he–” he jabs a finger in Charles’ direction, “mentions her once, is it?” He stomps over to where Charles watches the television, seemingly oblivious to the conversation happening right beside him.

“Take these. Both of them.” He shoves them into Charles’ palm and then storms past Logan.

“Didn’t say anything about it being a good idea,” Logan grunts, following him into the kitchen. “But you seem to think it is and I don’t know what else to do. So can you find her or not?”

“Of course I can,” Caliban retorts defensively. “As long as you have something with her scent on it.”

Logan throws his hands up in frustration, and then rakes one hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“I haven’t seen her in over a year. Why would I have anything that smells like her?”

“It doesn’t have to be dosed in her favorite perfume,” Caliban huffs. “But I can’t track anyone without some amount of their scent to go off of.”

“Goddammit,” Logan groans between gritted teeth. He turns in the opposite direction, heading back to his bedroom.

He thinks back to the last time that he saw you – the last time that his life had any sense of normalcy. The day of Charles’ first seizure, the day that he saw seven of his friends die, you weren’t there. By some miracle, you had been out of town.

But a few days before that – it had been snowing. It was the first snow of winter and you had taken a group of younger students to play outside in the middle of class.

Logan was called over by a few of the kids who begged him to help make a snowman. You kept to the sidelines, watching him with the students, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself to keep your cardigan pulled securely around your chest.

He remembers pausing what he was doing to run over to you and insist that you take his jacket until you were all back inside. He remembers how much he liked seeing you wear it, and how silly he felt when he didn’t like that you remembered to give it back.

He remembers being enveloped in the smell of honey and cream when he shrugged the jacket back onto his own shoulders. Less than a week later, he found himself in Mexico with no need to wear such a heavy leather jacket.

It's now been over a year since he’s so much as touched it.

Logan begins rifling through the drawers of the dresser that looks to be as old as he is, containing all of the clothing that he owns. It doesn’t take but a few seconds until he recognizes the feeling of the worn leather against his fingertips.

He brings the jacket up to his nose, inhaling where your skin and hair had rest against the collar. He breathes in deep, concentrating on the scent that transports him back to before his life was completely uprooted and turned upside down. With his eyes closed, it’s easy for him to let himself believe he’s standing in the kitchen of the mansion with your arms around his neck.

It's faint. If he didn’t have enhanced senses, he may not have been able to detect it at all. But it’s there – familiar and nostalgic and unmistakably you.

••••••

It takes Caliban all of sixty seconds to pinpoint your location.

Logan doesn’t quite know how to feel about learning that there’s only one state in-between the two of you. He wasn’t sure where he expected you to be, really – it doesn’t surprise him that you didn’t stay in the state of New York, and he didn’t think you would return to your hometown, but knowing that you’ve possibly been just a half day’s drive away from him this entire time makes a lot of emotions surface that he’s been trying to push down for the last year.

He begins the drive just after six in the morning. By the time the sun starts to set that evening, he enters the city limits of Silverton, Colorado.

Nestled in the snow-capped Rockies, the small town couldn’t be more polar opposite of where he has resided for the last thirteen months. The stark differences nearly cause him to turn his limousine around and head back to the smelting plant without even bothering you – if you’d chosen somewhere like this to live, there’s no way you’d be content with the brutal, dry heat of northern Mexico.

But this is the closest he’s been to you in nearly four hundred days, and despite the fact that he’s spent the last ten hours of this car ride thinking about what he’s going to say to you and still doesn’t fucking know, he can’t bring himself to go back to Mexico without trying.

Without at least seeing your face. Without at least seeing for himself that you’re doing okay.

He knows it’s selfish. He knows he made his choice when he took Charles to Mexico without even letting you know that they were alive. It doesn’t matter that he had his reasons for doing so, it doesn’t matter how much it killed him inside – he made his choice and he should have to live with it, without disturbing your peace and asking any of this of you.

He justifies it by telling himself that it’s for Charles, and Caliban. Maybe it’s his pride, but he refuses to make his ailing health your responsibility. Asking you to help with Charles is already asking too much.

He turns down a dirt road, following the approximate – not exact – instructions that Caliban had provided. Thankfully, it’s a small town in both size and population, so it doesn’t take him too long to find the neighborhood that Caliban had described.

He knows he has found the right house when he sees your car. He recognizes it instantly due to the cracked rear bumper that you still have yet to have replaced and its unique sage green color that peaks through the light dusting of snow.

He pulls into your driveway, parking his limousine next to your vehicle and turns off the engine. He takes in the appearance of your home – a small, cozy cabin with smoke erupting from the chimney. All of your curtains are pulled closed but there’s enough light peaking through them for him to know that you’re inside.

The thought occurs to him that he might not find you alone. It’s been over a year – you could have found someone to build a life with. They could pull into this very driveway at any moment. Hell, you could have a baby for all he knows. He might be seconds away from learning that you have a whole family of your own–

His thoughts only stop spiraling when he sees your front door swing open, your face peeking around the frame a second later. Confusion is etched across your features as you notice the limousine parked in front of your porch.

You don’t yet know that it’s him due to the limousine’s tinted windows, he realizes.

You exit the house, stepping onto your front porch with your arms crossed over your chest as you wait for the driver of the vehicle to make themselves known.

You haven’t aged a day. Your hair being longer than the last time he saw you is the only physical proof that any time has passed at all.

Logan attempts to clear his face of all of the emotions coursing through him and opens the driver’s side door, stepping out of the vehicle.

Thanks to the adamantium poisoning his body, his eyesight has started to decline over the last few months. But Logan doesn’t need to have his glasses on to know that you look like you’re seeing a ghost.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you in a cautious voice. He stays planted where he’s at, waiting for you to respond before coming any closer to the front porch steps.

He swears he watches you go through all five stages of grief in under a minute. Confusion fades to shock, shock turns to denial, and denial morphs into anger before you’re left with a blank expression.

“I know I’ve got a lotta explaining to do,” Logan starts. “If you’ll let me, I’ll answer every question you have. I’m just asking you to hear me out.”

It takes every ounce of self-restraint that he possesses to not walk up the steps of your porch and wrap you in his arms. He may be standing just a few feet away from you, but it doesn’t feel real. He’s convinced that at any moment, he’ll wake up back in his pathetic excuse of a bedroom in the smelting plant.

You take a few small, tentative steps forward. Your eyes never leave his, an unreadable expression on your face. Logan can’t tell if you’re trying to decide if he’s real, if you’re about to jump into his arms, or if you’re about to yell at him to get the fuck out of here.

You come to a stop on the bottom porch step.

“What’s the deal with the limousine?” You nod towards the vehicle behind him.

“I’m uh – I’m a limousine driver,” he answers lamely.

“A limousine driver,” you repeat with raised brows, though it doesn’t sound like a question. “You know, there have been a lot of nights that I’ve laid awake wondering where you’re at and what you’re doing. Of all the possibilities, I never considered limo driver.”

Logan opens his mouth to respond, but quickly shuts it again when you turn on your heel, walking back up the steps and to the front door. You pause before you cross the entryway, looking back at him over your shoulder.

“Take your shoes off at the door. Don’t be tracking snow into my house.”

Logan watches you retreat into the house, his body frozen in place. As far as initial reactions go, he supposes that could have been significantly worse – but he knows he isn’t out of the woods yet.

He follows you Inside, kicking his boots off at the door and closing it behind him.

The inside of your house is warm, thanks to the gentle fire going in the fireplace in your den. It’s cozy – you’ve decorated for the approaching holidays. Garland and twinkling lights adorn your mantle, and in the corner of the living room is an elaborately decorated tree. The whole place smells like a mixture of the candle burning on your coffee table and whatever you have cooking in the kitchen.

It's not just cozy, he thinks. It’s homey. And he’s about to ask you to leave it all for a dirty, grimy, old smelting plant.

He follows you into the small kitchen, where you stir something in a giant pot on your stove.

“Do I even want to know how you found me?”

He can tell that you’re trying to maintain a level tone, but he doesn’t miss the way that your voice shakes and rises an octave on the last word.

He clears his throat, pulling out a chair for himself at your dining room table.

“His name is Caliban. He’s a mutant who can track other mutants. I asked him to find you.”

You hum in response, continuing to tend to the food in the pot with your back turned to him. Logan knows that telling you he asked Caliban to track you down is just the tip of the iceberg here, but he doesn’t want to throw too much at you at once. So he watches as you grab a variety of seasonings from the cabinet above you, and lets you take your time with questioning him further.

“And why did you ask him to find me?”

“For Charles,” Logan answers. “I didn’t want to disturb you after all this time. I know you’re probably angry and you have every right to be but.. his seizures. They’re getting worse. The medications that I give him aren’t helping like they used to.”

You cover the pot with a lid, and turn the dial on the stove down to low before turning to face him. You lean up against the counter, your arms once again crossed over your chest – a telltale sign that you’re on edge, Logan remembers well.

“You mean the seizures that killed a bunch of our friends and have caused the United States government to classify his brain as a weapon of mass destruction?”

Logan gives you a curt nod. “Yeah. Those seizures. We’ve been living in an abandoned smelting plant just south of the border in Mexico. He mostly stays inside an old water tower. The metal it's made from helps keep the seizures contained to the immediate area around us, but.. they’re getting stronger. Happening more frequently.”

You chew on your lower lip, a passive expression on your face as you take in Logan’s words. You don’t meet his gaze, your stare fixated on something on the other side of the room.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” Logan counters.

You turn away from him again, reaching into a cabinet to grab two bowls. Logan watches as you ladle some kind of soup or stew into the bowls and pull two spoons from a drawer.

You place one bowl in front of him, and the other at a chair across from him before retrieving a bottle of dark colored wine and two glasses.

“It’s only been a year since I last saw you but you look about ten years older,” you finally answer as you uncork the bottle and fill the two glasses. You push one across the small table. “Sorry. I haven’t had much of a reason to keep any whiskey on hand.”

Logan’s not surprised by the observation – you’re not wrong. He knows the adamantium poisoning his body has taken a toll on his physical appearance. His hair and beard have started to gray, his skin appears more leathered, his under eyes more crinkled.

After barely aging a day in decades, the difference between a year ago and today must look drastic to you.

But that isn’t why he’s here. He can handle some aches and pains, some coughing fits, and all of the other ailments that come with typical aging. He can hide it all from you – he won’t make that your burden to bear in addition to asking you to help with Charles.

“Yeah, well,” Logan starts, staring down at the stew in front of him to avoid your gaze. “That’s what working night shifts and taking care of a ninety-seven year old disabled psychic with Alzheimer’s induced mega seizures does to a person.”

“No one asked you to do that, Logan. I would have helped you if you had given me the chance. I would have followed you any–”

“I know,” Logan cuts you off. “I know you would have. But I had just watched almost everyone that I love die. I couldn’t risk it, letting you get hurt too. Staying away from you for the last year, it’s.. it’s been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I did it because I knew it would mean you’re safe.”

You’re silent. Your lips quiver, and Logan loses his appetite at the way your eyes begin to gloss over with unshed tears.

“Did you at least think about reaching out?”

If your watery eyes make Logan lose his appetite, the brokenness in your voice makes him feel sick with himself.

“Every single day.”

He doesn’t tell you that you frequent his dreams, or that he thinks of you every time a Pink Floyd song comes on the radio, or that he hears your voice in the back of his mind telling him to drink more water when all he’s had that day is coffee and bourbon.

He wants to. But he doesn’t.

You give a small nod to his answer, but otherwise say nothing. You pick up your spoon and take a small, unenthusiastic bite of the food in front of you. Logan forces his attention to his own stew, not really wanting to eat but knowing that he needs to – he had only stopped for gas and a bathroom break once during the drive here. He hasn’t eaten anything since he choked down a stale granola bar before leaving Mexico early this morning.

The two of you sit in a loaded silence. Despite how heavy it feels, he can’t help but feel more relaxed in your presence than he has in a long, long time.

Your spoon clinks against the empty bowl when you finish eating. Logan looks up to see you gulping down the last of your wine.

You sigh. A long, exaggerated sigh.

“Why couldn’t you have shown up yesterday, before I put up all of my Christmas decorations?”

••••••

Logan thinks that the interior of his limousine will smell like a Christmas tree threw up in it for the next few months.

Not that he’s complaining. The sickeningly sweet scent of balsam is a small price to pay for you agreeing to come to Mexico.

He knows he probably shouldn’t feel as relieved as he does – he doesn’t even know if your powers will be effective in helping with Charles’ seizures.

But he can't lie to himself. The entire time he spent the better part of the night helping you pack your things into totes to load into your car and his limousine, he was on edge – afraid that you'd change your mind at any moment.

Of course he felt relieved when he watched your car pull out of your driveway after typing the smelting plant’s address into your GPS early this morning.

Approximately eleven hours later, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so glad to be in Mexico. The drive to Colorado, packing for hours into the night and then getting a few hours of shut eye on your couch, and then the drive back to the smelting plant has taken a toll on him.

His hips ache from sitting for so long and he’s experiencing what has to be a pinched nerve in his lower back.

That’s a first for him.

When he arrives back home, he’s relieved to find that he got here before you. Maybe he’ll have enough time to take a long, hot shower and let some max strength ibuprofen go into effect before you can notice the way that he hobbles inside.

“Oh, thank God,” Caliban exhales when he sees the door open and Logan limps inside. “You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts. Did you even think to check if I was alive? He could have had a seiz—”

“Sorry,” Logan grunts, walking past him to retrieve the bottle of painkillers from a cupboard in the kitchen. “I’ve been a bit preoccupied, trying to get back here as soon as possible and what not.”

He tosses back four pills dry and then turns to face him again. “And I knew you weren’t dead. You blew up my phone enough to assure me of that.”

“Well, a reply or two keeping me updated would have been nice. Tracking you only tells me so much.”

Logan rolls his eyes. He doesn’t have the energy for this right now.

“She’s on her way here now. How’s that for an update?” He pushes past Caliban, just wanting to go stand under a painfully hot stream of water.

“You actually managed to get her to agree to come here?”

“I’m as surprised as you are.” Logan grabs a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen counter and starts walking towards his room. “And get the spare room cleaned up for her.”

••••••

“I know it isn’t much, but I’m gonna get you a better mattress tomorrow.”

A few hours later, long after Caliban and Charles have retired to the old water tower for the night, Logan stands in front of where you perch on the edge of the twin sized cot in your bedroom – if it can even be called that right now.

Aside from the sad excuse of a bed, the only other things in the room are a small bedside table with a lamp, and several storage totes containing your belongings that Caliban had brought in from Logan’s limousine.

If he’d had more time to prepare, he would’ve done more, but just forty-eight hours ago he never would have guessed that you would actually be sitting here in front of him.

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “It’ll be better once I have some of my things unpacked.”

“Right,” Logan nods. “Well, I'll leave you to that then. Just.. let me know if you need anything.”

He turns to exit the room, but freezes when he grabs the doorknob. He turns back around, and finds you looking at him expectantly – almost hopeful.

“I appreciate it. You coming here. You don’t owe me anything after the way I just ran off without any explanation. But I'm really glad that you’re here.”

His heart swells when he sees the way that your expression softens. You’re too good, too forgiving and understanding. The fact that you let him into your home, served him dinner, and packed up your entire life into a few boxes and came here after a year of no contact proves it.

He takes a step closer to you, trying his hardest to ignore the sharp burn that radiates from his lower back as he forces his body forward. Despite how hard he tries to hide the discomfort, you seem to notice that something is bothering him – he can tell by the way your brows furrow together and your mouth sets in a harsh line. You scoot back a few inches on the cot mattress, making room for him to take a seat next to you.

“And I just want you to know that I’m sorry,” he continues, cutting you off before you can even ask if he’s okay.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to hear me say it. I’m sorry for the way I handled things. It wasn’t fair to you. I was just scared shitless and wanted to do what I could to keep you safe. Getting as far away from you as possible seemed like the best way to do that at the time.”

Logan internally curses his rambling. Typically a man of few words, he can’t help but feel silly at the sentiment. You’d always had a way of drawing a level of vulnerability from him that no one else ever had. He still feels that effect today.

“I understand why you did what you did, Logan,” you start. You look at him with such understanding that he feels himself physically relax at your words.

“It just… hurt.” You give a small shrug, bringing your hands together to dig your nails into your palms. “I lost my friends too, you know? You and Charles included. I know that you and I, we were never…” you trail off, but he knows what you mean without saying it.

Together. Never truly together.

A million almosts that never amounted to what he truly wanted run through his mind. He’d long ago accepted that you and him would never be more than an unspoken thing but the reminder of it still stings, coming from your lips.

“Anyway,” you shake your head. He wonders if you’re thinking of the same memories that he is – the seemingly small ones.

The ones that he wouldn’t have expected to stick with him, but ended up haunting him. Having a drink in the mansion’s courtyard together after particularly exhausting missions – or even just particularly exhausting days of teaching children. Walking into the kitchen to find you making lunch – and you just so happened to have made enough for him, too. You, on the back of his motorcycle with your arms secured around his stomach, your bodies pressed as close together as they ever had been.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still hurt over it. But the truth is, I was too relieved to find you standing in my driveway to tell you to leave. And I missed you too much to not come back here with you.”

Your voice is barely a whisper by the time you finish speaking. A singular tear leaks from the corner of your eye, which you hastily wipe away.

“Just don't fucking do that again, okay? I definitely wouldn’t be as forgiving if it happened a second time.”

“I wouldn't forgive myself if it happened a second time,” Logan tells you – and he means it. He still doesn’t know if he can forgive himself as is. But you seem to forgive him, and that's enough for him for the time being. “I promise. M’not going anywhere.”

“Good,” you murmur with a small smile, seemingly content with his reassurance. “So, about Charles… I was thinking, if the seizures are as bad as you've told me, I probably won't be much use if he's actively having one. I was thinking that starting tomorrow, I could try to work with him using my powers little bits throughout the day. Not too much at once so he doesn't get frustrated.”

You're right. There’s nothing that anyone can do once one of Charles’ seizures begins, except for Logan. It’s solely due to his healing factor that Logan is able to muster enough strength to administer one of Charles’ injections during a seizure. Humans – as well as mutants like you and Caliban – are rendered incapacitated.

“I’ll let him know that you’re here in the morning,” Logan nods in agreement. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

“I hope so,” you sigh. “I’ve missed him.”

As content as he’d be to sit here and talk to you all night, you’ve both had long days of driving and tomorrow brings a lot of uncertainty, so he knows that he should let you get some rest.

“We should probably try to get some sleep,” he says reluctantly. He starts to push himself off of the cot when the nerve in his lower back catches and causes him to hiss in pain. He tries to play it off, hoping you didn’t notice the way he visibly grimaced at the sudden sharp pain.

“Logan? What's wrong?” You ask, concern etched in your voice. He refuses to meet your gaze, knowing it'll be harder to lie to you if he looks you in the eyes. Instead he forces one foot in front of the other, and takes a slow step forward.

“It’s nothin’. Just stiff from driving so much is all.”

He feels your hand wrap around his wrist as he starts to take another step, stopping him in place. He hangs his head, still refusing to look at you. He doesn't think he can handle the concern and worry that is undoubtedly written on your face.

“If you were anyone else on the planet, I might believe that.” You stand up next to him, and your grip on his wrist only tightens. His face heats up; a side effect of your questioning stare and close proximity.

“But I’ve seen you get impaled with a crow bar before. It healed before I even had time to fret over you. So what’s really going on?”

It hits him how naïve he was to ever believe that he’d be able to easily conceal what’s been happening inside his body from you. The effects of the adamantium poisoning have been becoming more physically apparent for a while now, and you of all people – someone so familiar with not only illness and injury, but also him – were bound to pick up on the fact that something is very different than the last time you saw him.

He finally looks at you, your face every bit as concerned as expected.

“My healing factor has started to slow down,” he says delicately, trying to keep his tone even. The last thing he wants to do is freak you out even more.

“Slow down? How?”

“The shit my bones are made of seems to finally be aging me.” He chooses to forgo using the word poison, but still answers as honestly as he can bring himself to.

“But you don’t need to worry yourself with that, ‘kay? That’s not why you’re here. Some back pain isn’t anything that I can’t handle,” he quickly adds when distress distorts your features.

You purse your lips, leaving him wondering how you’re going to respond.

There’s a sudden sensation radiate from where the skin of your palm and fingers are wrapped around his wrist – it’s a soft vibration, soothing and serene. It starts at his hand and travels up his arm before expanding through his chest, back, and eventually down to the soles of his feet.

For a few moments, he feels like he’s floating. The weight of the adamantium bones disappear for the first time in decades, leaving him feeling feather light. The feeling fades away as gradually as it appeared, and with it subsides the pinching in his lower back.

He realizes that he’s looking at you as if you grew a second head. He doesn’t know why he’s so taken off guard – he’s seen your powers first hand before. He just never imagined there would be a time that he’d actually learn how it feels to be on the receiving end of them.

He glances down at where you finally release your hold on his hand. When you pull away, he sees the remnants of a purple glow emanating from your palm.

“I figured you would have said no if I had asked beforehand. Am I wrong?”

“No,” he admits in a gruff tone. “Guess not.”

“Well? How does your back feel now?” You look at him with raised brows, as if you don’t already know the answer.

“Better. But don’t make a habit out of that. I want you saving your energy for Charles.”

Truthfully, he physically feels the best that he has in months. In addition to his back being free of the sharp pinching sensation, the chronic stiffness that has plagued his body is gone. Even his eyesight seems clearer.

But he thinks back to one of his earliest memories of you – the one that had presented itself in his most recent dream. He remembers the vibrancy of your power gradually dimming as you grew more tired and the way that your forehead glistened with sweat when you were worn out from excessive use of your powers.

You roll your eyes and plop back down on the edge of your cot.

“I’m more than capable of helping you and Charles both. Do you think I’d really let you suffer, knowing you’re in discomfort?”

He knows that trying to fight you on this is as about as useful as arguing with a brick wall.

“I don't doubt your capability,” he tells you gently as he eases towards the door to your room. “But I'm not the priority here. Now get some rest, alright?”

Your response is a brief nod that tells him he hasn’t heard the last of this conversation.

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Just down the hallway, he traces the tips of his fingers over where your hand had been wrapped around his until he falls into the most peaceful and comfortable sleep he’s had in over a year.

••••••

“She’s a healer. She worked at the school as a nurse and teacher. You remember her, yeah? She’s here to see if she can help us out some.”

Logan hands Charles a double dose of pills and watches until he’s swallowed them. They are already running low on the seizure suppressants as is, but he makes him double up anyway. He’d rather be on the safe side, since you are going to be working with Charles this morning.

“Of course I remember her,” Charles retorts after he’s taken the pills. “As if I could ever forget with how often I see her face appear in your mind.”

“Could you do me a favor and not mention that, maybe?” Logan grumbles. He doesn’t doubt that it’s true, but he’d prefer Charles to not mention it within the first five minutes of seeing you.

The door to the old water tower creaks open, allowing midday sun to infiltrate the dim space as you come inside. Caliban enters behind you.

“Hi, Charles,” you greet him cheerfully “It's so nice to see you.”

Your voice doesn’t give it away, but Logan notices the nervousness in your gait – in the way that your posture is rigid and your footsteps are shorter and quicker than normal as you walk over to them.

Charles gives you a smile – the first genuine smile that Logan has seen from him in as long as he can remember.

“Hello, my dear,” he beams at you. “We’ve missed you.”

You return his smile with a bashful one of your own, and wring your hands together in front of you.

“I’ve missed you guys, too,” you say, your eyes flickering between him and Logan. “I’m glad to be here. I’m going to be using my powers to try to get your seizures under control. Is that okay with you?”

“Anything sounds better than these two cramming pills down my throat like clockwork,” he grunts with a glare at Logan and Caliban.

“It’s not exactly fun for us either, you know,” Caliban scoffs.

“Enough, you two,” Logan interjects when Charles opens his mouth to respond. “We—” he motions to himself and Caliban, “are going to give them some privacy.”

He'd be lying if he said the thought of leaving you alone with Charles during what will undoubtedly be a vulnerable time didn’t make him nervous. But he doesn’t want to overcrowd and overwhelm him, either.

Though a large majority of Charles’ seizures are random, many have been brought on by a state of a emotional distress, too.

He knows that he doesn’t exactly possess a natural aura of peace like you do.

A hint of anxiety flashes across your features before you quickly compose yourself. Logan starts to follow Caliban’s lead to the door, but stops when he's directly in front of you.

He reaches out and almost puts a hand on your waist before he thinks twice of it. His fingers linger awkwardly at your hip for a moment before he drops the hand back down to his side.

“I'll be close by, okay? If you need anything,” he says to you lowly. He glances over his shoulder to see Charles now tending to his bonsai tree, not paying attention to anyone around him.

“I know,” you assure him with a smile and nod of your head. “Don’t worry. I won’t push him. If he starts to get agitated, frustrated, bored… I’ll stop immediately.”

Logan gives you one final, short nod before reluctantly following Caliban outside and back into the smelting plant.

“You sure do seem to be getting around well for someone who could barely walk yesterday,” Caliban says in a faux casual voice as he tugs the balaclava style mask off of his head as soon as he is out of the sunlight.

Logan sighs and curses under his breath, already knowing the direction that this conversation is headed.

“Now that I'm thinking about it, I also didn't hear you having any nightmares all the way from the water tower last night. Must have had a good night’s sleep.”

“What's your point?” Logan snaps. He yanks the fridge open, scanning the scarce shelves for something to eat.

He really needs to go to the grocery store once you've finished up with Charles. And buy you an actual bed. And stock back up on Charles’ medications –

“No point,” Caliban continues, “Just glad to see that you changed your mind about telling her about your condition is all. Even if you did threaten me within an inch of my life to not tell her right before you left for Colorado.”

“What can I say,” Logan grunts. “She isn't blind. She clocked it within an hour of being here.”

Logan spends the next hour alternating between pacing the floor of the smelting plant and smoking cigars outside of the water tower. He reminds himself repeatedly that everything must be going okay, because if it wasn't, he would know by now.

He also reminds himself of the intense feeling of tranquility that came over him when he felt the effects of your powers. He can’t imagine anyone not finding it euphoric – even Charles, in all of his stubbornness.

He's finishing up a cigar when you exit the water tower after what feels like an eternity. He immediately stubs it out, remembering how you used to tease him about getting cancer if he didn’t stop smoking.

It wouldn’t surprise him if that was an actual possibility for him these days.

“How’d it go?” he greets you. He tries to keep his voice neutral – doesn’t want to make it obvious how anxious he’s been for the last hour. “Did he do okay?”

“I guess we won’t really know until he either has a seizure or… doesn’t,” you sigh. “He did surprisingly well. But the damage that the Alzheimer’s has done to his brain is widespread. I doubt there’s much reversing it. My goals are to reduce the severity and frequency of the seizures and to stop the damage from progressing any further.”

The two of you walk side by side back to the smelting plant, where Logan opens the door for you.

“So that means that I might be staying here for quite some time.”

You ease past him through the small doorframe, your chest grazing against him ever so slightly. The familiar light scent of vanilla and honey lingers after you’re walking away.

Were you just smirking at him or is he hallucinating?

Scratch that, were you just flirting with him?

“I think I can find a way to be okay with that.”

He didn’t expect you to go back to Colorado anytime too soon, given how much you packed – and the fact that your fucking Christmas tree sits in the common area – but he can't ignore that hearing you imply that you have no intention of leaving in the immediate future brings him more comfort than it probably should.

With your back turned to him as you open the refrigerator, he’s unable to see your expression, but he hears you hum in response – a sound somewhere between amusement and contentment.

“But if I'm going to be staying here for any amount of time, the food situation is going to have to improve. How do you live like this?”

He sighs, remembering the current state of the fridge and cabinets. He ended up settling on an overripe banana for breakfast. He normally reserves grocery shopping for his off days – Mondays or Tuesdays – but those days had been occupied with traveling to and from Colorado this week.

“I’ve got some errands to run today,” he starts, feeling an inkling of nervousness settle in the pit of his stomach. “Get some groceries and refills on Charles’ medications… if you wanted to come with me.”

He tells himself that he invites you because it just makes sense – of course you need to familiarize yourself with the area that you're going to be living in, even if it's just temporary. It's important to know where the closest grocery store, and gas station, and pharmacy is.

And it also just makes sense that he would be the one who to show you around. Charles can't even go to the bathroom by himself and Caliban is allergic to the sun.

That's what he tells himself, anyway.

“I could be persuaded to go with you,” you drawl. “If…” You trail off, leaving Logan to look at you with a cocked brow.

“If you let me ride in the backseat of your limousine?”

••••••

“Well? Was it everything you thought it would be?”

Logan sits directly across from you in a small booth at a mom-and-pop diner. It’s nearly noon and you had yet to eat today, so Logan made the last minute decision to pull into the restaurant’s parking lot after acquiring Charles’ medications.

“What?” you question as you swallow a mouthful of chocolate chip pancakes. It may not be breakfast time anymore, but he knew you would appreciate the fact that this place serves all day breakfast.

“Being chauffeured around in a limousine.”

“For some reason the limo smelled like a Christmas tree farm exploded in it,” you say nonchalantly. “But the driver insisted on taking me out for all you can eat pancakes so I’m still going to leave him a good review.”

“I’m sure he had a perfectly good reason for his limo smelling like that,” he retorts in mock defense. “But he probably should try to take care of that before he goes back to work tonight,” he adds, making a mental note to pick up some air freshener at the store.

A cheeky grin spreads across your face. You look like you’re about give him some kind of smart remark when the waitress walks over to the booth with a steaming pot of coffee.

“Good to see you in here with someone for a change,” the older woman, who Logan knows is named Lucille without having to look at her name tag, remarks as she tops off both of your mugs. “Did you finally take my advice?” She asks Logan.

“Every time he comes in here I tell him that he needs to get on one of those dating apps,” she says to you before he can answer.

You immediately cover your mouth to keep from spewing your coffee across the table.

Logan’s face heats up by ten degrees. He should have known better than to trust Lucille to be able to read the room.

“No,” he snaps. “I have not downloaded Tinder. Or Bumble, or Hinge. Maybe you should give them a try and stop worrying about my love life.”

He shoos her away, but she just cackles and slaps him on the shoulder.

“Honey, I’ve been married for forty-five years.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s your ring?” He asks, nodding towards her naked ring finger.

“We’re not allowed to wear jewelry on the clock, Nosey Nelly,” she jabs back. You sit silently, watching the interaction with pursed lips to keep from laughing.

“Nosey Nelly,” Logan grumbles under his breath as he fishes his wallet out of his pants pocket. He pulls out his debit card and slaps it into her palm.

You finally release a snort of laughter when Lucille waddles away.

“I take it that’s your best friend?”

“Believe it or not, she’s an improvement from Caliban.”

The two of you finish your meal with easy flowing conversation. You tell him what led you to Colorado, and about how you worked part time at a veterinarian’s office and part time at a bookstore. He tells you about some of the drunk, unhinged customers that he's had in his limousine lately.

It’s easy for him to forget that less than forty-eight hours ago, he hadn’t seen you in over a year.

Before your lives were irrevocably altered, you had been one of the closest friends he had ever had. One of the most important people in his life. Sitting across from you now, it’s too easy for him to remember why that was.

••••••

Logan’s reluctant to go to work tonight.

And it’s not just because he fucking hates his job and isn’t in the mood to tolerate the bachelor party currently occupying his backseat.

To an extent, he’s always nervous to go to work. He works night shifts because Charles sleeps at night, and is therefore less likely to be triggered into a seizure during the nighttime hours. It’s the safest time for Logan to be away.

It hasn’t happened before, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t. And with you now at the smelting plant, he worries about it happening while he’s away even more than he typically would.

He arrives at the strip club that the groom had requested he drive to and parks. They all drunkenly stagger out of the back of the vehicle, leaving Logan to relish in the silence after the door slams shut.

He pulls his phone from his coat pocket and sees that he has no messages.

He’d told you to text him if you needed anything, so it’s a good thing that you haven’t, right?

It’s just before midnight, so you're most likely asleep. The lack of a text is probably not anything as drastic as the conclusions that his brain is jumping to.

Still, he can't stop his fingers as he types out a message and hits send.

How’s the new bed?

After your brunch date – Lucille's words, not his – the two of you bought enough groceries to feed four people for a week and then went to the only furniture store in town to find you an upgrade from the fold out cot that they'd happened to have on hand when you arrived.

His phone dings just a minute later. He releases the breath he’d been holding before even reading your response.

It’s a major improvement. You were right - not too soft, not too firm. Though it feels a whole lot bigger than it did in the store.

He reads over the text at least five times and thinks back to your time in the mattress store earlier that day.

The first couple mattresses you tested out were too soft, the next few too firm. Logan didn’t mind that you were being indecisive – really. He was secretly relieved to have an excuse to spend more time with you, away from Caliban and Charles.

He laid down on a mattress that you hadn’t checked out yet and instantly thought that it was significantly better than his personal mattress at the smelting plant.

“What about this one?” He asks, patting the empty space next to him on the queen sized bed. You walk over to the opposite side of the bed and crawl in beside him. With your arms down at your sides, one rests against his. The mattress is more than big enough for you, but with him next to you, it’s a cozy fit.

He types: Is that a good thing or a bad thing? and presses send before he can overthink it. His screen shows that you read the message right away, and he can’t help but imagine the smirk on your face as you lay tucked beneath the covers.

The words ‘What do you think?’ appear on his screen.

He thinks he feels like a fucking teenager with the way that a few harmless, borderline flirtatious text messages from you has him imagining what it would be like to really share the bed with you.

His jeans begin to feel uncomfortably tight. He clicks the phone off and tosses it in the empty passenger seat beside him, before he says something that crosses a line that he can’t uncross.

••••••

The relief that your powers had provided Logan had been blissful but short-lived.

By the time he gets home from work at around four in the morning, his back pain has returned with a vengeance.

Everyone is asleep when he gets in, of course. He hobbles to his room as quietly as he can. Caliban and Charles are in the water tower, but he doesn’t want to wake you up. He hopes that by the time that you’re both awake later today, the pain will have subsided in his sleep.

Two hours after he lies down, he realizes that sleeping it off is an impossibility with the amount of discomfort he’s in. He’s done nothing but toss and turn in a futile attempt to find a comfortable sleeping position, the extra strength ibuprofen and his heating pad only doing so much to ease the stabbing sensation at the base of his spine.

He knows the answer to his problem is just down the hallway.

But it's early – the sun is just now starting to rise and he has yet to hear you stir from your room. He can't bring himself to wake you up over some back pain, knowing that you'll need to use your powers to help Charles soon.

He sits up with a deep groan, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. If he already can't sleep, he may as well make something to eat and settle the rumbling in his stomach.

Taking slow, short strides, he walks back down the hallway to the kitchen as quietly as he can manage.

He comes to a halt when he sees your door open, your head popping out from around the frame.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask, your voice huskier than normal with sleep.

“How’d you guess?”

You step into the hallway, still in a pair of plaid sleep pants and an oversized crewneck.

“Your bed creaks every time you move.” You cross your arms over your chest, standing less than half a foot away from him. There’s evident concern on your face when you take in his stiff posture. “This place has thin walls.”

“Sorry to keep you awake.” He looks down at the ground, embarrassed. “I’ll stay in the living roo—”

“Don’t be silly,” you stop him. You grab his hand in yours and begin to pull him back in the direction of his bedroom.

He thinks about protesting – part of him wants to tell you that you shouldn’t bother. He thinks he should tell you that he appreciates it, but he’s a lost cause, and the relief will only be temporary.

But your hand is too warm and your skin is too soft and in the end, he isn’t strong enough to deny himself the feeling of your touch, so he let’s you lead the way to his bed.

You drop his hand to position yourself on one side of the bed. You don’t get underneath the comforter, but you do pull it back on his side so that he can crawl beneath it.

His isn’t quite as big as your new bed – it’s only a full size mattress, so it’s even more cramped than when the two of you laid on the mattress in the store yesterday, but he isn’t complaining.

It's unchartered territory for you two, this type of intimacy. He doesn’t remember the last time he shared a bed with anyone, but if there’s one person on the planet that he trusts enough to allow next to him in such a vulnerable state, it’s you.

“Lay however is most comfortable for you,” you instruct him gently.

He maneuvers onto his side, facing you. You copy his position, your faces inches away from each other’s on a shared pillow.

“Now close your eyes,” you whisper.

He does as you ask, and then feels your palm rest against the thick stubble of his jaw. Your thumb grazes across the skin of his cheekbone. He melts into your touch before you’ve even started using your powers.

“Is this okay?” you murmur.

“Mm-hmm,” he sighs against your hand. “Could just lay like this for a while and I’d probably fall asleep. Don’t even need to use your powers.”

You snort and run the tips of your fingers through his beard.

“How about I do both? That okay?”

He nods, too tired to think about stopping you.

He falls asleep to the soft hum of your powers within minutes, and dreams of the color purple.

••••••

Over the next few weeks, everyone falls into a comfortable routine.

You continue to work with Charles for an hour in the mornings and then again in the evenings. Your powers help him more than Logan ever could have hoped for. Not only is this the longest he’s gone without having a seizure in months, but he’s also increasingly lucid and alert, and more like his old, spunky self than ever.

Most weeknights you cook dinner for everyone, and Tuesdays become the day that you join Logan in going to town for a weekly grocery restock and brunch at the same diner that he first took you to a few weeks ago.

He tries not to make it too obvious, but it quickly becomes one of the best parts of his week – even with Lucille’s relentless teasing about how there’s “no way you’re just friends” and Logan would be “the biggest idiot on the planet to not lock you down”.

Neither of you ever put much energy into disagreeing with her.

The other best parts of his week occur early in the mornings, before daylight breaks and Charles and Caliban are still sound asleep. He gets home from work and you move from your bed and into his, relieving him of any physical discomfort he could be experiencing from hours of driving around and lulling him to sleep.

The first few nights, he’d wake hours later to find that you had escaped back to your own room after he’d fallen asleep. Then, one morning, when he woke up, he opened his eyes to find your face resting against his shoulder.

You stopped bothering to go back to your own room after that.

This evening – Christmas eve – Logan sits on his bed and stares at the gift that he’d gotten you while you finish preparing the dinner that you’d been working on for the last few hours.

He feels silly. There hadn’t been any discussion on getting each other gifts and he worries that it’ll make you feel weird.

It’s an espresso machine – nothing too fancy, but it’ll get the job done. You had recently mentioned how much you miss the espresso machine that you had in Colorado. The house you had been renting came furnished, which included an espresso machine that you were unable to bring with you to Mexico.

He stopped by a Target before work a couple nights ago and picked it out. To top off how silly he feels, he’d completely forgotten to buy wrapping paper or even a gift bag, so he’ll just be handing it to you as is.

“Dinner is almost ready!” He hears your voice call from the kitchen.

The smell of honey glazed ham and fresh rolls wafts down the hallway. He places the box containing the espresso machine on the floor beside his bed, planning to give it to you after Charles and Caliban go to bed in a few hours.

When he rejoins everyone in the common area, Charles is watching Home Alone and Caliban is gathering plates and silverware for everyone while you remove a large dish of baked mac and cheese from the oven.

“Smells great,” Logan compliments as he grabs a beer out of the fridge. “Anything I can help with?” he asks, as if you hadn’t all but shooed him out of the kitchen just an hour ago.

You place the casserole dish on a trivet before grabbing one of the plates that Caliban had set out.

“Yes, actually,” you say, surprising him. You hand him the plate with a small smirk. “You can make Charles a plate.”

“Oh, can I?” He takes a step closer to you, taking the plate and grinning down at you. “Are you sure you trust me to do that?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that you’ve been alive two hundred years and haven’t taken the time to learn to cook.”

“Well, I guess I'll just have to have you teach me-"

“Would you two stop flirting and get me some ham?” Charles voice booms over the television and silences you both.

Logan notices you purse your lips to keep from smiling as you turn your attention back to the spread of food across the dining room table.

Soon, you’re all four sat around the dining room table with plates piled high with traditional holiday dishes. Logan is halfway through clearing his plate when Charles clears his throat to speak.

“This is wonderful,” he directs at you. “Thank you very much. You know, this all feels very familiar to me…” he trails off, glancing between you and Logan from across the table. The smile on his face fades, and in it’s place appears an expression of confusion.

From the corner of his eye, Logan sees your grip on your fork tighten.

“Thank you, Charles,” you tell him. You try to sound cheerful, but Logan doesn’t miss the nervous edge to your voice. He knows that you’re noticing the same thing as him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Yes, these candied sweet potatoes are delicious,” Caliban interjects in an obvious attempt to maintain easy conversation. “You'll have to give me your rec—”

“This feels so familiar,” Charles repeats and all three of you go silent.

In his gut, Logan fears that he knows what is coming. It always starts this way. One minute, everything will be perfect. The next, something triggers a memory, or a feeling, and Charles is hit with the weight of the past – with the weight of the trauma that his brain normally blocks out.

“This feels like… how Christmas used to feel. When we’d have dinner at the.. at the mansion. With all of our friends before I.. before I killed them—”

“Charles,” Logan says firmly, but Charles continues to stare into space. “It wasn't your fault. Okay? Let's enjoy this nice dinner. Do you want some more green beans—”

But he’s unable to finish his sentence before it begins. The exact thing he’s been the most terrified of since you arrived here weeks ago.

Across from him, Caliban's face is frozen in agony. Beside him, your mouth is open as if to scream, but no sound comes out. Every one around him is still, and his body suddenly feels a few hundred pounds heavier.

It's been weeks since Charles’ last seizure, but Logan knew it was too good to be true – knew that it was bound to happen again eventually. He'd planned for this, knowing the effects of the psionic energy would hurt you as they do Caliban.

Logan forces himself into a standing position by pushing off of the dining room table, and then takes as big of steps as he possibly can to get to the opposite side, where Caliban and Charles sit.

He ignores the blinding nerve pain all over his body, he ignores the intense ringing in his ears, he ignores the way it feels as if all of the air has been ripped from his lungs and reaches down to grab the bag of medication from the compartment beneath Charles’ wheelchair – where he's made sure to keep it, in case of this exact scenario.

Despite his shaking hands, he manages to retrieve an injection and uncap it. He jabs the tip of the needle into the flesh of Charles’ shoulder with as much force as he can muster, then collapses to the floor beside him.

Charles releases a grief stricken groan, realizing what had happened. Logan hears both you and Caliban gasping for air.

“I'm sorry,” Charles cries. “I'm so sorry..”

Logan pulls himself off of the ground using the edge of the table and instantly turns his attention to you. Your eyes are wide and your hands are visibly shaking in your lap, but you exhale the breath you'd been holding when your eyes meet Logan's.

You push your chair back, standing and closing the distance between the two of you. Your hands grip the tops of Logan's biceps. He instinctively rests his on the sides of your stomach.

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice wobbly and several octaves higher than normal.

“I'm fine,” he assures you delicately. “Are you okay?”

You nod, hesitantly at first and then more confidently as you take him in and seem to realize that he really is alright.

“I'm fine too,” Caliban grunts from across the table. “Don’t worry yourselves with me.”

Logan and you both quickly retract your hands, breaking the embrace. You turn your attention to Charles, who seems to be in another world.

“Charles? Are you alright?” You ask him softly.

“Hm?” He hums as he glances up at you. “Oh, yes. I’m alright. I think.. I think I’d like to go to bed now,” he murmurs. Logan, you, and Caliban all exchange glances before Logan tosses the bag of medication to Caliban.

“Give him a double dose of the suppressants and some sleep medicine,” Logan instructs him. Caliban nods wordlessly and wheels Charles away from the dining room table, towards the smelting plant’s door.

Once they’ve left the building, Logan turns to you. You look visibly shaken, and he can’t blame you. He remembers all too well how frightening the effects of the seizure was the first time he experienced it. Even with this one being relatively short lived, he knows it had to have been more painful and scary for you than it was for him.

“I’ll clean all of this up, okay?” He says, gesturing towards the half eaten dinners and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. “You go relax. Take a shower, lay down for a while—”

“Really, Logan. I'm okay, I prom—”

“Will you do that for me?”

To his surprise, you don't object any further. You give him a small nod, and a comforting squeeze to his hand as you walk past him.

He doesn't release the sigh of both relief and frustration that he’d been holding in until he hears the shower turn on a few moments later.

••••••

As soon as Logan finishes tidying up from dinner, he cuts two small slices of an apple pie you had baked and puts them on a plate for the two of you to share.

Your door is slightly cracked, the soft orange light from your table lamp spilling into the hallway. He knocks quietly and waits for you to tell him to come in.

You’re in your pajamas, tucked under a blanket with a book partially obscuring your face. You do little to acknowledge his presence, so he takes a seat on the edge of your bed and places the plate of pie beside him.

The room looks significantly different than it did just a few weeks ago. In addition to the new bed, you'd also acquired a vintage dresser and an area rug that you’d found for cheap at a thrift store. You have books in piles throughout the room, one of the things that you were most adamant about bringing with you from Colorado.

“Charles is alright,” he tells you gently. “He must have just been really tired. He didn’t nap much today. Caliban said he fell asleep really quickly after taking his medicine.”

“Except that wasn’t why he had a seizure,” you sigh, closing your book. Logan now has a better view of your face, and the first thing he notices is that your eyes look red-rimmed and watery. You sit up straight, and he inches closer to you on the bed.

“Hey, what’s going—”

“It was definitely my fault that he had a seizure,” you sniffle, looking at him with defeat.

“What? No,” Logan shakes his head. You have a blanket draped across your lap, but Logan places his hand on your knee over top of it. “What makes you say that?”

“I always work with Charles for an hour in the mornings and an hour in the afternoons,” you start, frustration evident in your voice. “But this afternoon, I cut our session short because he wasn’t really in the best mood and I wanted to get started on prep for dinner.”

You wipe underneath your eye with the sleeve of your shirt and look away from Logan’s gaze.

“Sweetheart, you can’t blame yourself for this,” he assures you as he rubs slow circles on your knee with his thumb. “He was having seizures almost every single day before you got here. You’re not the reason he had a seizure today. But you are the reason he’s been able to go weeks without having one.”

“Okay?” He prompts when you don’t respond. You finally look him in the eye again, and offer a small nod of agreement.

He hands you the plate of apple pie, earning a small smile from you.

“Wait here. I’ve got something for you,” he tells you as he stands up and begins walking towards your door.

“Something for me?” you question, but he’s already halfway down the hallway.

He grabs the espresso machine from beside his bed and heads back to your room. He still feels nervous to give it to you, but right now he’s just hoping that it will help cheer you up.

When he re-enters your room, you’re forking a bite of pie into your mouth and freeze when you see what he’s carrying. He sits back down on the edge of the bed, still holding the box. You sit the plate of pie on your bedside table and scoot closer to him.

“Logan, you didn’t have to,” you murmur. He hands you the box and you hug it to your chest, but only look at him. He thinks your eyes are starting to look watery again. “I feel so bad. I didn’t get you anything—”

He waves his hand in dismissal, not surprised at all by your reaction.

“I know I didn’t have to. Just wanted to. Is that okay?”

You inspect the espresso machine with a bashful grin. “Thank you. I love it,” you assure him with a gentle squeeze to his hand. “I just wish I had gotten you something, too.”

“That’s not necessary,” he says, staring down at where your hand holds his. “You give me everything I need just by being here.”

You go still at his words with a look he can’t quite read on your face. You pull your hand away from his before placing the espresso box on the floor next to your bed. The hand that previously held his comes to cradle his face, your thumb grazing along his cheekbone. He turns his head ever so slightly to the side so that his lips graze against your palm. He kisses the skin once, then twice, and your eyes flutter closed.

His heightened senses don’t miss the way your heart rate picks up, or the way that you hold your breath as his lips linger on your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” He murmurs into the side of your hand. You open your eyes, your pupils dilated.

“Same thing I’ve been thinking about for years now,” you whisper as you lean forward, pulling his face to you.

You capture his lips in yours, opening up for him without hesitation. He slips his tongue into your mouth, the sensation simultaneously feeling brand new and like you’ve done this dance a hundred times before.

He scoots further back onto the mattress, away from the edge. He pulls you with him, guiding you onto his lap. You straddle him, his hands resting on your lower back. You fist your hands around the fabric of his flannel, pulling him flush against you.

It's years of pent up desire and longing that you pour into each other. You drag your teeth along the swell of his bottom lip and he groans into your mouth, resisting the urge to buck his hips up against your center.

He knew you looked sweet, smelled sweet – but never would he have guessed that you’d taste even sweeter. Even if it weren’t for the faint hint of cinnamon and apples from the pie you’d nibbled on, he’d think you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

You grind down against the uncomfortable bulge contained by his jeans and whimper – the prettiest sound he’s ever fucking heard and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You pull back, your chest heaving from lack of air.

“Why didn’t we do that years ago?” you ask breathlessly. He reaches up to your face, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he answers quickly. His eyes lock on your kiss swollen lips and he thinks you’ve never looked prettier than you do right now – staring down at him with puffy lips wet with his kiss. “But now that I’ve kissed you, I’m not gonna stop. Gonna kiss you for as long as you’ll let me.”

And to prove his point, he starts trailing wet, open mouth kisses along your jaw and down your throat. You throw your head back, giving him unhindered access to the skin of your neck. He alternates between kissing and nipping the tender flesh, leaving a damp trail across your skin.

You grab at the hem of your shirt and Logan pulls away to allow you to tug it over your head. You’re left naked from the waist up and Logan is left feeling like his cock is going to break through the zipper of his jeans.

With your tits directly in front of his face, he latches his mouth to one nipple and palms the other in his hand. You rock yourself against his erection, chasing the relief that the friction provides you.

“Logan,” you pant from above him. “Please—”

He pulls his mouth away from you with a wet pop, leaving your nipple glistening and taut.

“Tell me what you want, honey.”

You let out a low whimper at the pet name and drag your fingers through his hair. He toys with the waistband of your pajamas pants, popping the elastic band lightly against your skin.

“Your mouth,” you say, the words somewhere between a whine and a plea. “I wanna feel your mouth on me.”

He groans at the bluntness of your words. Hearing you say that you want his mouth on you has his cock throbbing in his pants.

“Yeah?” He taunts as he maneuvers you off of his lap. He quickly tugs his own shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. Your eyes trail down the expanse of his chest, your mouth slightly agape.

He tilts your head so that you’re looking at his face again and tugs at your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

In that moment, he hopes you never stop looking at him like that.

“You gonna sit on my face?”

You nod, eagerly. You push your pajama pants down past your ass and thighs, and Logan helps pull them the rest of the way over your calves and ankles. You lean forward, reaching for the waistline of his jeans and fumbling with the button until it pops open.

He sees you completely naked before him and his brain goes momentarily blank. He can’t believe he actually gets to see you like this – bare for him and more perfect than he ever could have envisioned.

And believe him, he had tried. Nothing could have prepared him for how it actually feels to see you, touch you, taste you after years of yearning for you.

“Lay down for me?” You ask with a small laugh, snapping him out of his trance. He does as you ask, placing his head on one of your pillows.

You straddle his chest, your back to his face. He helps you inch backwards until your pussy hovers directly over his mouth. He pauses for a moment, spreading your thighs apart with his hands to give him a clear view of your already dripping cunt before yanking you the rest of the way down to his mouth.

You moan as soon as his tongue slides through your wet folds, bracing your hands on the defined planes of his chest. The sweet and salty tang of you fills his mouth and he has to resist moaning goddamn, I love you into your cunt.

He could get drunk off of the flavor of you.

You grind yourself against his face, your juices coating his beard and your inner thighs. He’s so focused on working you with his lips and tongue that he doesn’t even notice you pushing his jeans and boxers down until he feels his cock spring back and slap his lower belly.

“Fuck,” you moan at the sight of him. You pump him in your hand, smearing the pre-cum from his slit down his shaft. “You're so big. I don’t know how you’ll fit inside me.”

He hears you spit, then feels it drip across his tip. You smear the warm wetness down his length and press a kiss to the side of his cock before taking him in your mouth. The head nudges against the back of his throat before you pull back, then ease back in, slow and deep.

He’s always loved your lips, but right now he’s doesn’t think he could ever love them more. He wants to watch as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head along his length, but that’s going to have to wait for another time.

Right now, he’s right where he wants to be. He has your swollen clit locked between his lips, sucking on it to the point that your legs quiver around his head. You lean forward, pressing your chest against his stomach as you run your tongue down the entirety of his cock and stroke him in your hand.

“I’ve waited so long to taste you,” he grunts from beneath you. The vibrations of his voice making your pussy clench around the finger that he teases your hole. “This cunt’s so fuckin’ sweet.”

He eases his index finger past your entrance, your walls constricting around the digit. “And so fuckin’ tight,” he adds, pumping in and out of you as you begin to move forwards, then backwards, up, and then down – grinding against his finger.

“Logan, I'm gonna cum,” you cry and it makes his balls tighten. He feels it – the way you gush around his finger and the way your legs clench around his head.

You ride out your orgasm above him, and then collapses against his chest. Your skin is sticky with sweat against his, despite the fact that the current cold front has the smelting plant colder than normal tonight.

You roll off of him, falling onto the mattress next to him. Your slick glistens on your thighs in the soft glow of your lamplight. It's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, he thinks. You fucked out and delirious from your climax.

But he thinks he might fucking die if he has to spend one more second of his abnormally long life not knowing how it feels to be buried inside you.

He helps pull you into a sitting position, and then lays you down in his place. Your tits heave as you try to regain control of your breathing. He's on his knees, fisting himself in his hand as he nudges your knees open. Your eyes are locked on his cock, a look of half excitement and half terror.

“You can take it, honey. I know you can,” he coos.

He slaps the tip against your clit, then glides it up and down your wet length. Not entering you quite yet, but coating himself in your slick. He looks down at himself next to your pretty, wet cunt and imagines how it’ll be to see it sliding in and out of you.

“Just been a while, that’s all,” you say, pulling him down to the by the back of the neck. He lines himself up at your entrance, nudging just the tip in. Even that’s a stretch for you, he can tell by the way your mouth forms an O shape.

He goes still for a moment – for your sake, but for his own, as well. He has to adjust to the warm tightness of your pussy before he trusts himself to go any deeper.

“I know, baby. Been a while for me too. Been waiting for you for a long time.”

He slates his lips over yours, kissing you messy and deep as he slowly sheaths himself inside you. He stills again once he’s buried to the hilt, and breaks the kiss to look down at you.

“You okay?” He murmurs. He props himself up on one forearm by your head, and brings his free hand to roll one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

You give him another eager nod, and wrap your legs securely around his hips, hooking your ankles together just below his ass.

“Mm-hmm,” you sigh. “Need you to move now, Logan.”

With his cock throbbing inside you, he doesn’t make you tell him twice. His length drags along the soft, spongy interior of your walls as he pulls out and eases back in. He gives you a few languid, slow strokes to accommodate the newfound stretch before it's hard for him to hold back.

He gets lost in it all – in the wet, tight heat of your cunt, in the sounds that your bodies make as he repeatedly snaps into you, in every expression on your face and every noise that slips past your lips.

You snake your arms around his abdomen, your hands coming to rest on his lower back.

“H-how’s your back?” You stammer out as he continues to piston his hips forward.

“I've never been better,” Logan grunts, resting his sweat slicked forehead against yours.

It's the truth. He’s never felt better than he does right now, between your legs – even if he is feeling this in his back. He'll deal with any and all repercussions later, once he's felt you cum around his cock while you cry his name.

You smile up at him as if to say wanna bet?

You flatten your hands across his skin at the base of his spine, and he doesn’t have to be able to see it to know what you're doing. He's experienced the effects of your powers enough by now to recognize them instantly – the low vibration they emit and the immediate warmth that spreads throughout his body.

“Gonna make me cum, honey,” he warns you. “Feels too good.” He feels your walls constrict around him when he calls you honey.

“Kiss me and I’ll cum with you,” you tell him in a breathy voice that he could listen to talk in all fucking night.

He kisses you again, this time more hurried than anytime before as he chases both of your releases. He spills into you with a deep groan as your cunt spasms around him. You moan his name into his mouth until he stills inside you, the last ropes of his cum filling you up.

He isn’t sure how long the two of you stay like that – with him still tucked inside you, laying pressed against you with his face nuzzling the crook of your neck. You trail your fingers up and down his spine, the sensation the only thing grounding him to reality in his post orgasm haze.

Finally, he pulls back enough to look down at you.

“Stay here,” he says earnestly. “Stay with me. Don't go back to Colorado. One day, we’ll go anywhere you want to. Just the two of us. But right now, please stay—”

“Logan,” you shush him gently. “I wasn’t planning on going back to Colorado. Or anywhere without you.”

He exhales, and kisses you on the forehead before finally pulling out of you and plopping down beside you. He tucks you between his chest and his arm, your head resting just above his heart.

“You know, this new bed of yours is a whole lot comfier than mine,” he comments casually.

“Hmm,” you hum and tilt your head to look up at him. “You should probably sleep here tonight. For your back, of course.”

He laughs, sleep threatening to overtake him at any second. He presses a lazy kiss to your forehead.

“I'm not going anywhere without you, honey.”

••••••

[tteokdoroki]

aali i remember seeing an anon send in an ask looking for a bakugo fic with dimples ? i saw this (https://www.tumblr.com/earthtooz/705881106161025024/in-which-bakugou-only-shows-his-dimples-around) while looking at fics for bakuday and thought i’d send it in case this is the one!!

WAHHH!!! THANK U SEL BABY UR AN ANGEL <3

[thedeadthree]

— TAG GAME.

TAGGED BY the dear @marivenah and @leviiackrman to answer a few questions! ty ty so much love!

TAGGING: @feystepped, @griffin-wood, @jendoe, @kingsroad, @chuckhansen, @risingsh0t, @queennymeria, @denerims, @phillipsgraves, @jillvlntine, @morvaris, @aartyom, @minaharkers, @unholymilf, @leviiackrman, @jacobseed, @arklay, @corvosattano, @jackiesarch, @malefiicarum, @pearlcscent, @shellibisshe, @weisshaupts, @shadowglens, @leondaltons, @adelaidedrubman, @florbelles, @belorage, @confidentandgood, @girlbosselrond, @thee-morrigan, @rosebarsoap, @fragilestorm, @lacunafiction, @noonfaerie and you!

THREE SHIPS: inspired by mari <3!

THREE CANON SHIPS: geralt x yennefer, corlys velaryon x rhaenys targaryen, and arianne martell x daemon sand!

THREE OC SHIPS: iovanna dayne x daemon targaryen, edelgard vanderweyden x reese verner, maekar targaryen x aeryal arvel (carolines dear!)

THREE MUTUALS SHIPS: mo @kingsroad's alyse x aegon (they mean the world to me!), ash @unholymilf's iconic varya x roman (forever the moment!), airika @chuckhansen's nina x adam (the loveliest! they're dear to me!)

FIRST SHIP: oo ok ok i want to say my first ship was I think? rajaion and ena from fire emblem path of radiance? that or? selina kyle/catwoman and bruce wayne!

CURRENTLY CONSUMING: an iced coffee ajanjnsk bc i am a responsible adult <3.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: my 3829838th rewatch of house of the dragon <3 am i surprised? nay nay! its not at all for oc lore! (leg says like a liar jnjanj <3)

LAST MOVIE: the batman! <3 and one i recently adored seeing was bullet train as well! (ty ty orion and ash for introducing me bc of ur ocs u dears u!)

LAST SONG: its been stuck in my head all week! the fruits by paris paloma <3

CURRENTLY READING: rereading fernweh saga by the dear aelsa! and fire and blood by george rr martin <3 (leg once again says its bc they want know more of what’s in store for the characters and not for oc lore at all like a liar <3)

CURRENTLY CRAVING: my mom is making sauce so i have pasta on the brain <3

[baneart]

Sel's got a political marriage to Honami, but that ain't gonna stop him from banging his bodyguard on the regular. (TEEHEE ITS KAST, LUCKY BOI.)

[selvepnea]

Hey. Come As You Are by Emily Nagoski has some really good advice that can apply to more than just ur sex life

[meangirlsbway]

this is the first time i’ve been hyped about my halloween costume for a while

[screampied]

Do you have any whiney/needy jjk men recs? Not exactly femdom but more like just pussy drunk and desperate. Also, I quite love your work, it's amazing!

of course !!!! i’ll take this opportunity to shout out some of my talented mooties 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️💓 and thank you !!!! <3 18+

virgin!satoru by @/sutorus PETRA’S TAKE ON VIRGIN SATORU IS FUCKIN DELICIOUS

sub!satoru by @/satoruhour HES SO BABY HERE I LOVEEE

laundry day by @/satoruhour SO SO GOOD. satoru’s a sub but turns dom later literal chef’s kiss. read all of sel’s roommate!gojo you will NOT be disappointed

kiss & make up by @/osaemu i rec sab’s entire streamer!gojo series bc its SO FUN TO READ but toru was so sweet n cute here 🙂‍↕️

i’ll hypnotize you w this pussy by @/satorena so so good, lots of pussy drunk men I LOVE. def a good read esp if ur into whiny feral men

drugs ‘n hella melodies by @/satorena rena hates choso but i convinced her to post it :P but THIS WAS SO YUMMY. riding choso while he’s high ugh a fever dream 😞 FIVE STARS

pussy drunk choso by @/fairy-hub he’s such a baby here :(( he’s so cute, the characterization of him was so well done FEY WRITES SUCH GOOD SUB

lowkey she’s so sweet by @/ohimsummer good gawd suguru’s so whipped here HES SO ????? this was delicious. this entire au >>

satoru jerking off in a mirror by @/teddybeartoji this might have changed my life. like . HES SO WHINY it fits him so good. mickey has sososo many good sub works

actor!gojo by @/staryukis ACTOR GOJO CHANGED ME SO MUCH IN A GOOD WAY. you need to read the actor gojo au bc every fic / drabble eats so much ??? fake scenes w toru that turns real ugh …. so so good 🙂‍↕️

[thinkinonsense]

this will be all i can think about until further notice <3 sooo good!!!

Sharing is caring

✧ Logan Howlett x reader x Peter Parker

✧ summary: Your new teammate Peter Parker has a huge crush on you, and your boyfriend Logan has always wanted to watch someone else fuck you. It’s Peter’s birthday and Logan decides to share.

✧ warnings: smut 18+, mmf threesome, oral, unprotected piv, so much cum lol, Peter is very pathetic lmao (and not very experienced) and more of a sub, Logan is dominant and reader is dom-ish for Peter but sub-ish for Logan, little bit of say gex 😋 (oral, Logan receiving), pet names (my girl, good girl/boy, baby, bub), implied age gap (Peter is the youngest – didn’t mention a specific age but early 20s-ish, reader is a few years older, Logan is obv the oldest), Peter being a nerd, lots of teaching Peter (mostly how to go down on each other), also the fic starts with smut right away lol

✧ note: idek if anyone else is interested in this character constellation and needs it as much as i do but they’re my two biggest marvel crushes (in completely different ways) so i had to!!!!! like hellooo😵‍💫 and i really love this omg

✧ word count: 7.5k oops

-

You’re on top of Logan, riding him like your life depends on it. 

Logan’s so good in bed that you usually just let him pamper you; you both like it that way. It’s also what makes the times when you’re on top even more special. Your boyfriend is struggling not to cum in you yet, fingers indenting your hips where he’s grabbing you hard. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby, such a good girl,” he groans underneath you. 

You grin as you lean down to give him a sloppy kiss, pulling away before he’s done with you so you can resume bouncing up and down in his lap.

Logan slides his hand between your legs, beginning to rub your clit as he feels you clenching around him tighter. 

You’re so close.

You’re so fucked out that you barely register the door to your bedroom opening. 

“Hey, do you know if– oh god, sorry!” you hear Peter’s voice, and before you can catch a glimpse of him the door shuts with a bang.

It takes a few moments for your heartbeat to calm down and for you to realise what just happened. Peter walked in on you fucking your boyfriend. Innocent, nervous, adorable Peter Parker – new recruit at the mansion. You’ve only just barely befriended your new teammate and you’re not sure your friendship can handle him catching you like this.

You look down at Logan for the first time, only to see him smiling. 

“He did that on purpose,” he chuckles, hands still resting on your hips as if he’s ready for you to start right back up. You stay on top of him with his cock nestled deep inside you, pulsing, but you can’t get yourself to focus on the pleasure of it.

“He’d never do something like that on purpose. He’s way too innocent for that. He wasn’t meant to see us like that – I bet he’s traumatised!”

Logan laughs again, “Traumatised because he’s not the one fucking you maybe, sure.”

Your mouth hangs open at Logan’s accusation – Peter sees you as a friend, nothing more! You doubt he even thinks about sex, let alone about having sex with you. 

Rising to your knees, you let Logan slip out of you, his cock slapping against his abs with a dull, wet smack, a mix of his precum and your wetness smearing over his skin.

“What? We’re stopping cause of him?” Logan grabs your hand, “He’d get what he wants.”

“Logan,” you warn, somewhat seriously. He’s making Peter out to be someone he really isn’t.

He smiles, adjusting your hips so you’re hovering over him again, jerking his cock and positioning the tip at your entrance. You smile down at him – it’s hard to resist when he looks so good and your pussy is still wet and not yet satisfied.

“Peter did that on purpose, bub,” he repeats, breath becoming laboured as you sink down on him, “You’re not telling me you’ve been oblivious to his crush on you all this time, right?” 

You involuntarily clench your pussy around him, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face looking at him after that. But Logan’s smirking – you don’t have to open your eyes to know that; you can practically hear it. He jerks his hips under you, starting to fuck into you from below.

“Y’like that, baby? Spider-Man’s got a crush on my girl. You don’t know that?”

It almost feels like you’re cumming with how much wetter you get at his words, and you manage to open your eyes to climb off him properly this time, lying down next to him, burying your face into the pillow to hide.

“Noo,” you squeal, though it comes out muffled.

Logan slaps your ass, keeping his hand there to grab your flesh, “Uh-uh, baby. You can’t squeeze around my cock like that and then run away.”

You giggle, leaning up to look at him, “That was just because I was sitting on your big dick. It had nothing to do with Peter.”

“Suure, bub, sure. Can I keep fucking you then?”

You nod, scooting closer to him, both of you on your side. Logan hikes your leg over his hip and slowly thrusts into you as your limbs tangle together. He spits on his hand to rub your clit messily, the way he knows is enough when you were already this close to an orgasm just moments earlier.

“You’re the only one I want, Logan,” you tell him in a quiet voice, distracted by how good he feels inside you as he fucks you, playing with your puffy clit.

“I know that, baby, I know that. I know you’re my girl. My perfect, pretty girl. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy that someone else has a crush on you. Can’t expect Peter to be blind.”

You cum around his cock then, moaning into his skin as he fucks you through your orgasm, filling you with his own load seconds later.

Logan drops the topic of Peter while you cuddle afterwards, and it’s hard to keep thinking about it when you’ve got your gorgeous, beefy boyfriend next to you, your hand buried in his hair as you massage his scalp the way you know he likes.

It’s when Logan says he’s going downstairs to get you some water that you remember Peter.

“Tell him I’m sorry if you see him.”

“Sure, bub,” Logan says dismissively, kissing your knee with a teasing grin as he gets off the bed. You suppose he’s right – you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s Peter’s fault for walking in without knocking.

But you can’t help but feel bad. He’s an adult, only a few years your minor, but he seems so innocent. He likes you – you can agree with that. He admires you; that much is obvious too, but you don’t know if calling it a crush is an exaggeration. If Logan is right and Peter has a crush on you, you’re sure it’s nothing sexual.

-

Logan can sense Peter from a mile away. Peter is pacing up and down in the kitchen. Logan smiles at the floor as he enters the room.

Spider-Man’s face is flushed – whether it’s from embarrassment or arousal, Logan can’t tell. But the bulge in Peter’s sweatpants assures Logan that he was right in his assumption in the first place. He turns to the sink to pour a glass of water to take upstairs, giving Peter the time to adjust himself.

“My girl says she’s sorry,” Logan says in amusement, turning around, “Didn’t mean for you to see us like that.”

“What? I– no, I’m sorry. I should have knocked,” Peter stammers.

“That’s what I told her.”

Peter doesn’t reply, having a stare contest with the floor so that he doesn’t have to meet Logan’s eyes.

Logan chuckles, “So why’re you in the kitchen and not in your bedroom?”

Peter doesn’t miss the sexual implication. “I feel bad.”

“What, you think people don’t jerk off thinking about their crush just because that person is in a relationship? It’s just in your head, bub, you can do what you want.”

Peter looks up. It’s not that he feels bad towards Logan; he feels bad towards you. But if Logan thinks that way and you’re his girlfriend, maybe that means you share his opinion. Peter is too lost in thought to reply to Logan.

“Suit yourself,” Logan says as he leaves the kitchen. 

-

“Did you see him?” you ask Logan when he comes back.

“Yeah, said he’s sorry, he should have knocked.”

“And he didn’t seem disturbed?”

Logan laughs out loud at your question, “No, baby, don’t worry. He’s not disturbed. His only problem seemed to be how hard he was.”

Your mouth falls open, “Really?”

“Maybe he’s not as innocent as you thought after all, bub,” Logan smirks, pulling you closer.

That revelation turns you on more than you care to admit, to yourself or to Logan.

-

It’s Peter’s birthday a few weeks later and he’s happy as long as he gets to spend it with you. 

He’s not expecting you to get him anything, but you get him a Lego set that he’s been wanting for months. It’s something he’s mentioned to you only in passing and he can’t believe that you remembered.

You make it so hard for him to see you only as a friend when you’re this attentive. To be fair, he’d probably fall in love with anyone who gives him Lego, but he already liked you before. If only your boyfriend wasn’t the most attractive, masculine man in the entire world who, even though Peter’s confident in his skills, could probably maim Peter without any effort at all.

He’s not sure if it’s true, but you’ve told Peter that Logan is busy today, so he can’t join you for Peter’s birthday lunch. He introduces you to his friends and his aunt that have come to his small celebration, and he fantasises that surely some of them must think you and him have a thing going on. May definitely gives him a look when she sees how gorgeous you are, but she already knows all about Peter’s hopeless crush on you.

You kiss Peter’s cheek when everyone leaves, letting him blush in peace as you go up to your bedroom. 

You told him you’d watch a film with him tonight but you seem to have forgot. It’s evening already and he wouldn’t want you to stay up too long for him if you watched the film later. Even if you did forget, he’s grateful he got to spend the day with you.

He’s about to bring his best gift – the one you gave him – upstairs and to his room.

“You like it?” Logan’s voice sounds behind Peter.

“I love it. I’ve wanted this for ages,” he grins.

“I’m glad you appreciate it. She made me threaten a twelve-year-old over it. It was the last set they had at the store.”

Peter grows even fonder of you. He knows he must be blushing, but he also knows there’s no point in hiding it – not since the night he walked in on you and Logan having sex. He’s been hoping Logan didn’t tell you about their run-in afterwards, although he knows he can be a little obvious regardless. It’s hard to hide a crush as big as the one he has on you.

Logan clears his throat, folding his arms, all those muscles bulging, “I’m not the best with material gifts but I’ve got something else for you.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s wary. Logan and him aren’t exactly friends. He wasn’t even expecting you to give him a gift.

“I know you wanna fuck my girl.”

Peter gulps at Logan’s directness, starting to stammer out a few words that make no sense.

“Y’don’t have to deny it. Can’t blame you, can I? You wanna live out your fantasy?”

Peter finds it hard to imagine that this isn’t a trap or some sick joke. “No–no, of course not. She’s your girlfriend and I’d never, I mean, she’d never cheat on you and I’d never try anything. I respect you so much–”.

Logan cuts him off, “Calm down, bub. This isn’t a trick. I’m asking if you wanna fuck my girl for your birthday. We both had the idea,” Logan smiles, and he doesn’t have to wait for a verbal answer to know that Peter wants it – the gleam in his eyes tells him enough, “C’mon. She’s waiting in your room.”

Peter abandons the Lego box on the floor. He couldn’t care less if some student found it and took it for themself. Peter’s on his way to better things.

-

Peter doesn’t let himself believe it until Logan opens the door to his bedroom, and there you are. You’re sitting on his bed – something Peter has imagined many times but never even dreamt of seeing in reality – in the most gorgeous set of lingerie he’s ever seen (not that he’s seen many in real life… or any).

“Hi,” he waves awkwardly, unsure whether to try and hide his growing erection. You’re half-naked only a few feet away from him, and this is better than all of his wet dreams about you combined.

You’re grinning, first at Peter and then at Logan, who closes the door behind Peter.

Logan takes a step forward to bend down and kiss you. It’s a short but sloppy kiss, Logan’s hand resting on your cheek. He looks back, chuckling at how desperate Peter must already look, and sits down in the chair near the bed.

“Hope you don’t mind, I’ve made myself comfortable,” you bite your lip. Even your voice alone could make Peter cum.

“No no no, not at all. You look so gorgeous. I never thought I’d get to see someone look so sexy in real life.”

You giggle and it feels heavenly to be making you laugh like that. You lift your hand for him to take. He gasps when his hand touches yours, and you pull him to the bed with you. He feels like hyperventilating just from being so close to you in nothing but underwear. Peter wills himself to be strong; he can’t embarrass himself and cum right away.

“You know, Logan’s been trying to tell me for a while that you might have a tiny crush on me, and I didn’t believe it at first but…”

Peter laughs nervously before you can finish your sentence, but you don’t have to. Everyone in this room knows how much Peter likes you. All of Xavier’s school probably knows – teachers and students.

“Yeah,” Peter says weakly, cheeks hot.

 “Logan and I thought this could be a nice present for your birthday, if you want. Cause I think you’re cute too, and Logan doesn’t mind sharing me for one night.”

It hurts a little that you only find Peter cute, but he’ll take whatever he can get. Clearly he’s cute enough to fuck, and that’s all that really matters right now.

“Of course I want to, so what are we doing?” Peter doesn’t mean for it to come out so stupidly. He knows you’re going to have sex, he just doesn’t know the details.

“I’m gonna get you nice and hard first,” you say it with a smile, looking down at his lap, knowing exactly that he’s more than hard enough already, “and then Logan’s gonna join us and you can both fuck me at the same time. Does that sound alright?”

Peter grins. “More than alright. I don’t know if I’m gonna last long but I only need a few seconds before I can get hard again,” he tells you proudly, before he remembers that your boyfriend has healing abilities too, far more complex than Peter’s. You’re probably used to going endless rounds. Now he just feels a bit silly for admitting that he can’t last long. 

Peter turns to the side to face Logan. He’s manspreading, arms folded cockily in front of his chest, and it’s unnerving how a single person can ooze that much confidence. Although, if he looked like Logan and had a girlfriend like you, Peter’s sure he would be less insecure too.

“Have you had sex before?” you ask Peter all kindly, and he blushes thinking about the image of him you apparently have in your head. He’s not that experienced, but he’s not that innocent either.

“Yeah,” is all he manages to say at first.

“What have you done?” you ask him, gently resting your hand on his jaw, thumb trailing over Peter’s bottom lip. He stops himself from licking it.

“I’ve, uh, been inside of a woman before and I’ve, like, fingered her. My ex-girlfriend.”

You smile at the unnecessary piece of information, “That’s it? You’ve never had your dick sucked?”

Peter shakes his head, feeling like he’ll cum just from your words, “No, and I’ve never gone down on a woman.”

“You wanna?”

He nods his head so eagerly that it makes you giggle again.

“Maybe later,” you tell Peter, your hand dropping back to your lap.

“You can eat her pussy after I’ve cum in it,” Logan says with a smirk. You give him a look, turning to assure Peter.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to do that.”

Peter looks between you two, “I don’t mind! I’m up for anything.”

You smile, moving to straddle him as you hum, “Good boy.”

He tenses underneath you, eyes screwed shut, and he can’t even enjoy the way he cums as soon as you settle on top of him, your hands on his shoulders. Hot embarrassment floods Peter’s body, and he feels like he might cry.

“Aw, it’s okay,” your voice is nothing but sweet with not even a hint of amusement, and Peter dares to open his eyes. Your face is inches away from his, and your closeness makes him feel less embarrassed.

“You like me that much, hm?” you continue, and Peter hears a quiet laugh from Logan, but he doesn’t care about his opinion, only yours, “I’m flattered you do. Glad you like your gift.”

“I really thought the lego set was my favourite present,” he says. This time he cracks a smile too as Logan and you giggle at his words.

“Let’s get you out of your clothes, okay?”

You get off Peter after he nods, pulling off his shirt. Peter stands up as you kneel in front of the bed to pull off his jeans, biting your lip when you feel how sticky his cum-stained boxers are.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made, baby. So cute.”

Peter swears you’ll stop associating that word with him by the end of the night, although he’s starting to like you calling him that. He takes one glance at you on your knees for him, and he has to look away in fear of cumming again immediately. 

“I know,” Logan tells him, and Peter sees then how hard he already is too. Peter can’t believe Logan gets you like this every night, but for now he smiles at him as they silently bond over how attracted to you they both are. It’s impossible not to be.

Logan’s eyes drift down to Peter’s hard cock, and you’re grinning back up at your boyfriend, “Look how big he is, baby. Almost the same size as you.” The joy in your voice makes Peter stand a little bit taller. He’s proud that you like his dick. It’s probably the proudest moment of his life thus far.

You pull Peter back on the bed, sitting down as you lean back against your hands, “You wanna unwrap your present?”

Peter nods, smiling at the goosebumps that erupt on your flesh as he pulls at the ribbon that you’ve wrapped around your waist. He leans over to place it on his nightstand – he’s keeping that forever.

When he sits down in front of you, the sweet smell of you hits him. He looks between your legs, and there’s a wet spot on your panties. All because of him? He keeps feeling prouder and prouder.

“Thought about this so many times. Jerked off at least three times every single day since I walked in on you two.”

You and Logan smile at each other. He asks Peter, “You did that on purpose?”

Peter doesn’t turn to face Logan, the blush that has only just subsided flaring back up. “N-no. Of course not.” He knows neither of you believe his lie. He couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t worry. She liked it too,” Logan informs him, and Peter’s eyes go wide.

“You’re a handsome boy, Pete,” you shrug, brushing your hand through his hair and he hums at the nickname.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks finally, cock already so hard he can barely think, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“Go ahead,” Logan says, but Peter pays him no mind.

“I wasn’t asking you,” he says bravely, and your eyes go to those of your boyfriend as you raise your eyebrows.

“Told you he’s got it in him,” you say, pulling Peter close to press your plush lips to his. It’s like an explosion of endorphins, and Peter knows that from this moment on he can die happy. You pull him closer, kisses getting wetter as the sound of them takes over the room, and it’s the hottest thing Peter has ever experienced.

“Here,” you briefly pause, taking his hand and guiding it to the clasp of your bra at your back. He fiddles with it for a few seconds, and you want to give him a chance, but then the bed dips with the weight of Logan, and he opens your bra with ease.

Peter doesn’t know when he took his clothes off, but Logan is naked except for his boxers. He looks nowhere nearly as good as you, of course, but his muscles aren’t exactly an unwelcome sight.

“Isn’t my girl so pretty, Pete?” Logan asks, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms, taking off your bra.

“She’s gorgeous,” Peter rasps, “She’s perfect.” Logan hums in agreement.

Peter has imagined your tits too many times to count, and yet they’re even better than anything he’s fantasised about. He’s too nervous to touch you, but you take his shaky hands, putting them on your breasts.

“Oh my god,” Peter whispers, breathlessly cupping and squeezing at your tits as his cock leaks with precum. He sees you biting your lip as you look at his lap, and Logan takes Peter’s hands off your tits.

“Take off her underwear,” Logan commands as you smile at his words. You lift your hips, upper body leaning against Logan, and Peter pulls your panties down your legs. He throws them off the bed somewhere, hoping you won’t be able to find them again so that Peter can keep them forever.

He moans loudly when you spread your legs, and it’s a wonder that Peter doesn’t cum again just at the sight of your pussy. You’re perfect, and so wet, and he falls to his hands, in front of you on all fours.

“You want her mouth or her pussy first?” Logan asks, although you and him already know the answer.

“Wanna go down on you,” Peter says, unable to tear his eyes away from your pussy. You spread your legs further for him, and he looks up at you with the most adorable puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You can,” you smile.

Peter inhales deeply when he squashes his face between your thighs, trying to burn the memory of how good you smell into his brain forever. 

He doesn’t have a technique, he just starts. You let out a soft moan when Peter licks up your entire pussy once; he moans too as he tastes you. He grabs your soft thighs, putting them over his shoulders as he lies down.

You give him a reassuring smile as he begins to eat you out, experimenting with different licks and kisses. You turn to your side to start kissing Logan, your hand holding his wrist as his arm drapes over your chest.

Peter licks greedily at your pussy, and you reach into Logan’s boxers to start stroking the hard length of him. Your hand is coated in his precum quickly, and he smiles into the kiss before he gently nips at your lip.

“You okay there, bub?” Logan pulls away to smirk at Peter. If you can still kiss Logan that well, then Peter isn’t doing a good job. You both look down to find Peter more focussed on grinding his cock against the bed rather than on eating you out. He blushes.

You reach out to touch his cheek, some of Logan’s precum from your hand wiping against Peter’s face, “you’re so cute.”

He doesn’t even register the word anymore.

“You want Logan to teach you?”

Peter nods, moving only minimally to make space for Logan next to him, both their wide shoulders knocking against each other’s (okay, Logan’s are slightly bigger). Logan huffs but doesn’t say anything, placing one of your legs over his shoulder and pressing your other knee up against your chest.

“Here’s how you do it,” Logan looks at Peter, bending down to press a sloppy kiss right against your clit, coating you in his spit before he begins to gently suck. You squirm immediately, and Peter can’t wait to try it out on you.

Logan pushes two fingers into your wet pussy, moving them in a way that you evidently like. Peter doesn’t know what to look at – your pretty face or your pretty pussy. Logan huffs next to him, “I know she looks good, kid, but you gotta focus if you wanna make her cum.”

Peter nods, watching Logan sucking on your clit and moving his fingers inside you.

“You can use your fingers to fuck her,” he explains.

“I know,” Peter says, his tone perhaps a little more petulant than what he was aiming for, “I just hadn’t gotten her consent to do that yet, so I didn’t.”

You smile at him, “you can do whatever you want to me, Pete.”  

And that’s all he’s ever wanted to hear in his life.

Logan nods at him, sitting back up, and Peter gets between your legs. He knows he’s got it easier now because Logan had his mouth on you for a bit, but it wouldn’t be fair otherwise. Logan is like an old man with loads of experience, and he probably gets to fuck you every night, so he has an unfair advantage.

Your boyfriend gets next to you, kissing you – and it’s all sensual and passionate and wet and Peter can’t help but stare for a few moments. Logan starts touching your tits, groping you and moving to gently play with your nipples.

You pull away from the kiss, a string of spit hanging between your and Logan’s mouth, “Pete?” you ask softly, but Peter can hear some desperation in your voice. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

First, he quickly licks your pussy just to get that heavenly taste in his mouth again, then settles on a more precise movement of his tongue. He circles your clit, hearing you sigh against Logan’s mouth, but Peter isn’t sure if he’s the one who evoked that sound.

He slides two fingers into your pussy, curling them how Logan showed him to. He’s stopped moving his mouth, too concentrated on looking at your face to see a reaction.

“That’s it, Peter, don’t stop,” you moan, pushing his head back down and he happily wraps his lips around your clit, fucking you gently with his fingers.

“Yeah, baby, he’s got you,” Logan says into your neck, “You’ve got her, right, Peter?” he asks all smugly.

“Mhhmmm,” Peter squeaks without taking his mouth off you, and the vibration of his voice seems to make you squirm a bit more. He decides to let himself moan the way he’s been wanting to the entire time, subtly grinding his hips into the bed beneath him as he eats you out and fucks you with his fingers.

You cum with a cry that makes Peter even prouder than he’s been all night, and he thinks he’ll savour the feeling of your thighs squeezing around his head for the rest of his life. He pushes his tongue into your pussy to taste as much of your arousal as he can, stopping when he feels your and Logan’s eyes on him.

“Did such a good job,” you tell him, and he grins proudly. He gets on his knees to lean up and kiss you. Your tongue slides into his mouth, and his heart skips a beat at the way you smile into the kiss. He’s in heaven.

“You wanna fuck me now?” you ask, and Peter’s eyes go wide as he sits up and gets back between your thighs.

“And I want you too,” you smile up at your boyfriend, pulling at the waistband of his boxers. Peter has no idea how Logan has this much self-restraint, watching as he gets off the bed and takes off his boxers with a grin. Peter sees how you drool at the sight of Logan’s big dick, and Peter feels his own mouth watering. 

“Here you go, baby. Gonna be a good girl for me, right? Gonna take my cock? You been waiting for this, hm?” Logan kneels next to you. He holds his cock over your face, lightly slapping the tip against your lips. Peter’s cock pulses against his abs. 

You nod wordlessly, wrapping your lips around your boyfriend’s huge cock. You pull off him only to spit on it, jerking off the lower half of him that’s harder to fit in your mouth. 

The wet sounds coming from you sucking Logan’s cock make Peter’s dick twitch as he spills a new load of precum. It lands on your thigh, getting your attention. 

Peter doesn’t know how you can spare a single moment away from Logan’s cock, but you pull your mouth off him, “You can start if you’re ready,” you smile at Peter. Both of you watch him as he pushes his cock inside you. 

Your warm, velvety walls suck his cock in unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Peter’s eyes flutter shut and he just stays like that for a few moments, the sound your mouth makes around Logan’s cock doesn’t make it easier for Peter. Even if you don’t seem to mind him cumming fast, he’s trying to prevent it, feeling so close again already.

He hears Logan huff out a laugh, and Peter opens his eyes. You’ve stopped going down on your boyfriend, looking at Peter all sweetly.

“It’s okay if you cum quickly, I did too at the start,” Logan confesses. It’s hard to imagine him – the epitome of virility – not being able to last long, even with someone as perfect as you, but it makes Peter feel better about himself, by a lot.

“I really don’t mind it, Pete,” you smile, and Peter nods. He looks down towards where you’re joined, your pussy stuffed with his cock. Even though you’re used to something even bigger, there’s an obvious strain, and you’re squeezing around him hard even when he’s not moving.

You and Logan watch as Peter starts to fuck you, your hand on your boyfriend’s cock, lazily jerking him off. Logan doesn’t seem to mind watching Peter pushing into you slowly. The two pairs of eyes make him feel more self-conscious, yet it’s also invigorating.

Peter clumsily rubs at your clit, at least attempting to focus on something other than how good he feels.

“You’re so tight, feel so good,” he mumbles, and you seem like you’re enjoying it too, back arched and hand faltering around Logan’s cock. You’re too distracted by Peter.

“Don’t stop,” you say quietly, evidently not there yet but Peter’s sure you feel good.

You share an intimate smile with Logan, and he tells Peter, “Doin’ a really good job with my girl. This is the only thing, bub..”

Logan tries to hide his smile as he grabs Peter’s hand to guide his fingers back to your clit from where they’d drifted off to your thigh, where he’d just been holding you. Peter’s cheeks turn red – or maybe they’ve been red the entire time – as he goes back to playing with your clit.

He doesn’t notice it, but a few seconds later he stops touching your clit again, too distracted by how good your pussy feels. Logan shoves his hand between your legs instead, making you moan as soon as he starts rubbing your clit in circles.

Your pussy spasms around Peter’s cock as you orgasm, and he can practically feel the pleasure flowing through you.

“Can I cum inside you?” The question comes too late to wait for an answer so Peter pulls out, cumming all over your belly in sticky ribbons as he jerks off desperately.

You bite your lip when he’s done, humming as you take some of Peter’s cum off your belly, pushing your finger between your lips. “Tastes so good,” you tell Peter, “Taste it.” 

You swipe some more on your finger, bringing your hand up to Peter’s face as you put your finger in his mouth. He wraps his lips around it hesitantly, smiling shyly when he tastes his own saltiness. Logan’s watching him too, cock still hard.

You gently nudge Peter’s head down towards your belly, and he smiles at you sweetly as his lips glide over your skin and he begins to lick up his own cum.

“Don’t swallow it all,” you say, your hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He nods obediently, keeping his mouth closed when he’s licked your skin clean.

“Here,” you open your mouth for him, pulling him up to your face. His eyes go wide when he realises what you want him to do, and he holds your chin as he spits his cum into your mouth. 

He was starting to worry a little because, even though he knows he has no problem getting hard after a first orgasm, it’s been a while since he’s gone three times in a row. But now his dick is so hard again that it almost hurts.

You stick out your tongue, showing Peter and Logan the cum mixed with your spit in your mouth. “Come taste him,” you look up at Logan with the sexiest smile anyone has ever smiled, and Peter feels his cock flex as he somehow gets even harder.

Logan rolls his eyes playfully, bending down to kiss you nevertheless. Some of Peter’s cum runs down your chin, and Logan pulls away from the kiss to lick it up. Peter thinks he really should start training his stamina with how close he is again just from this.

You still don’t swallow when Logan stops kissing you. “Come here,” you tell Peter, and he kneels next to you so you have him and Logan at either side, their dicks hard. You sit up a little, spitting the rest of Peter’s cum into your hand as you reach for Logan’s cock, starting to jerk him off. 

He gives you a fake annoyed look at you using Peter’s cum as lube, but it’s obvious he likes it, and it makes Peter reach out to his own cock to give it a few strokes – he can’t help himself.

“Haven’t made you cum yet,” you peer up at Logan, who puts a reassuring hand on your cheek.

“You know I don’t mind watching you two, bub,” he says, and your wide smile hints that Logan has told you something slightly different in private. He doesn’t just mind it, he loves it. Peter gets why Logan might find that hard to admit in front of someone else, something about conventions and possessiveness, but he’s glad that Logan decided to share. He’s glad that you want him.

You wrap your lips around Logan’s cock again. While you suck his cock, you stop Peter’s hand on his cock, jerking him off instead. You pull your lips off Logan, turning to suck Peter’s dick.

You switch between them a few times, the taste of their precum mixing in your mouth and dripping down to their balls when you suck their dicks. Peter particularly enjoys this, awaiting his turn eagerly every time. The head of his cock is swollen with lust against the inside of your cheek, and you turn to him to focus on him fully, letting him get lost in the feeling of fucking your warm, wet mouth.

You put your hand on Logan’s hip, guiding him down the bed. He smirks as he gets between your thighs, watching you suck another man’s cock as he starts to fuck you. He goes slowly first, letting you adjust to his size as you moan around Peter’s dick.

Logan watches Peter’s eyes flutter shut at the vibration of your voice. Logan knows you’re not just moaning because of him inside you though.

“You like that, baby, hm? Like sucking Peter’s cock?” you don’t take your mouth off him, but your sparkling eyes meet Logan’s. It’s a look of understanding. 

Logan is ready to cum, but he tries to draw it out. He can go endless rounds but the first orgasm is always the best. He wants to savour it, save it for a bit longer. He focusses instead on making you cum, fucking against your g-spot, almost making you see stars.

You moan around Peter’s cock when you cum again, and Logan almost submits, but he’s able to fuck you through your orgasm without cumming. Peter spills into your mouth as your cheeks hollow around him, sucking him deeper down your throat.

“Such a good girl,” Logan praises you until your pussy stops pulsing with an orgasm, and you give him a fucked out smile as Peter pulls his cock out of your mouth.

“My girl,” Logan adds, kissing you, and you sigh against his lips in pleasure.

You sit up to grab the water bottle from the side of Peter’s bed and take a sip. You pass it to Peter and Logan afterwards, and you don’t move back between them once you’ve put the bottle away, so they’re facing each other.

You sit on your knees, looking between them as they’re impatiently waiting for you to come back, both their cocks standing hard and proud against their abs.

You bite your lip, “Are you into men, Pete?”

Peter’s heart misses a beat and then happily continues drumming against his chest as he nods eagerly, although he’s not sure why it matters right now.

You share a brief silent exchange with Logan before your next words. “So is Logan,” you nod towards your boyfriend. You wait for them to catch on to what you’re saying, but Peter is too shy to and Logan is still contemplating. This wasn’t a part of the plan, but he can’t say he’s against it. He just didn’t know you wanted to see him with another man the way he wants to see you with one.

“Um, what now?” Peter asks with a nervous smile, ready to please.

You fight the urge to simply answer now you kiss, “You think you two are the only ones that get a show?”

Peter’s eyes widen slightly at your suggestion before they brighten. A shy yet excited smile takes over his features.

“You sure, baby?” Logan asks you. You bite your lip, nodding slowly. Logan smirks, because he knows that exact look and you haven’t been quite this horny all night yet.

“Only if you want to as well,” you tell him, and he doesn’t need to answer.

“This okay for you, bub?” Logan lowers his voice as he speaks to Peter. 

He replies through an eager nod, “yeah.” The word comes out as a whisper.

Logan smirks as he leans in, gently placing his big hand around Peter’s throat. He’s not squeezing, just holding him in place. You didn’t mind Peter being all squirmy when you kissed him, but Logan wants to keep him still.

You watch their cocks rub against each other’s abs as they get closer, strings of spit connecting their lips as they make out, tongues tangling in desperation.

It’s sloppy, the way they kiss, and you could watch them forever.

Logan pulls his lips from Peter’s with a wet sound, firmly patting his cheek, “Now get on your knees, bub.”

The command makes even your knees buckle, and you watch Peter happily drop to the carpet, kneeling between Logan’s spread legs as he moves to the edge of the bed. He beckons you over to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a messy kiss to your mouth.

You know he’s close now, having denied himself an orgasm this long.

Peter wraps a greedy hand around the base of Logan’s cock, leaning in to press a few kisses to his dick. You and Logan watch him, you pulled closely against his side.

“You want me to show you what to do?” you ask Peter after a while of him not doing anything but kissing and licking. Peter nods quickly, “yes please,” and you kiss him after you sit down next to him, tasting your boyfriend’s precum and some of your own arousal on him.

“Think he’s almost there,” you tell Peter as you look up at Logan through your lashes, and he smirks.

“That’s not a problem,” Peter says quickly.

“Here, you can use your tongue,” you tell him, wrapping your hand around Logan’s cock as you take him into your mouth, tongue wet against the underside of him, “try it.”

You keep holding Logan’s cock as you pull off him, angling it towards Peter’s face. His face is flushed as he takes Logan’s dick in his mouth for the first time, sucking on the tip.

“That’s it, doing so good,” you brush your thumb over Peter’s cheek where it bulges when he takes Logan deeper. Your and Logan’s eyes on him make him nervous, and he pulls off to kiss you instead.

You make out with him for a few moments, letting him kiss you greedily and wetly, before you guide your mouths back to Logan’s cock. You and Peter part only minimally as you kiss either side of Logan’s dick, spit running down from your mouths to his balls as you share him.

“Feels so good,” Logan mumbles, all blissed out, watching his perfect, pretty girlfriend share his cock with another guy.

You see how close he is, slowly pulling your mouth off him and leaning your cheek against his knee as you watch Peter take your boyfriend’s cock into his mouth all by himself.

“Attaboy,” Logan says, placing a hand on the back of Peter’s head when he goes deeper, spit falling from his lips.

“Juuust like that,” you add, your praise spurring Peter on. Logan’s other hand goes to your cheek, absent-mindedly brushing over it with his finger as he holds your face.

Peter gets more confident when Logan’s breath stutters. He moans on Logan’s cock as he takes him as deep as he can, the wet sound from his mouth obscene. 

Logan’s hips jerk as his cock twitches in Peter’s mouth, and he cums down his throat in warm, sticky ropes of his load.

“Good boy,” Logan softly ruffles Peter’s hair when he’s done, and you lean in to kiss Peter, some of your boyfriend’s cum still fresh on his lip.

“Doesn’t my boyfriend taste good?” you ask against his lips, hardly breaking the kiss. You can hear the slick of spit and cum on Logan’s cock already as he jerks off again, to the sight of you two making out with his cum between you.

“He does,” Peter mumbles against the skin of your jaw, kissing down your neck.

“He tastes better than me?” you tease.

“No– no, you taste better than anything in the world.” And Peter means it.

-

You’re not done until hours later; you fuck until it’s the middle of the night. Earlier, Peter was ready to forgo his birthday movie night just so you can go to sleep on time, but he got something much better, even if it means you stayed up late for him. He can’t say he feels too bad.

Peter is tucked in, you and Logan at either side as you send each other loving glances over Peter’s head. You’re stroking Peter’s hair, basically cuddling him with how close you are.

“Hope you liked your present,” you tell him, pressing one last kiss against his lips as you smile at his sleepy expression.

“Best birthday ever,” Peter mumbles, before he drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

-

P.S. reblog + let me know your thoughts and Logan and Peter will appear in your bed tonight 🩷🫣

[roslynwrites]

you’re such an incredible writer, so i only imagine u read extensively too. i’ve noticed ur ao3 bookmarks are empty, but i’d love to get a list of your favorite titles whether it’s zutara, other fandom or traditionally published works.

I do indeed read a lot. The past few years I have read much less fanfic and have focused on original stuff, but I have actually been able to read a few fics in recent times because my brain didn't want to write, I did have a bit of Zutara burnout I think so no Zutara recs here (yet).

But if you, like me, enjoy some Dramione, then, for starters:

anything by phlox (Slowly Toward Desire is my favorite)

Amateur Cartography by worksofstone

A Darker Blue by skitter (legitimately cannot believe this fic didn't blow up, one of the best Dramione fics I've read and that fandom has a ton of good shit, so like. wow. skitter also has a Zutara! I have not yet read but it's on my list and I'm already sure I will love it)

Lights Out by Phoebe

I used to read every pairing under the sun in HP but as I said, haven't read as much fic lately, but two others are Blood & Gold (a Tomione, by the legendary ObsidianPen) and The Wilderness (Luna/Ginny) by speechwriter. If you try nothing else on this list, try The Wilderness. That fic is high art. It blew my entire goddamn mind, my god. I also highly recommend anything by PacificRimbaud (esp. the Paneville)

*cracks knuckles* now for some original stuff:

The Liveship Trilogy by Robin Hobb altered my brain chemistry

Scholomance Trilogy by Naomi Novik. I mean, okay, I worship Naomi generally, so I was shocked to discover it took me a while to get into these. Read the first, thought 'meh', came back to it again later, liked it better, second and third proceeded to BLOW me away

NK Jemisin's Broken Earth trilogy. In case you want a nice dose of a darker twist on Earthbending and an exploration of prejudice.

Juniper & Thorne by Ava Reid for your Gothic horror needs

Lost Boy and Alice, both by Christina Henry. Dark fairy tale retellings, so you know I'm there. She does them so well.

The Burning series by Evan Winter. It has dragons and a dual-sword wielding badass, in case you need those itches scratched

If you want some good published romance (I tend to like fanfic for pure romance stories tbh so I'm usually pickier here) that has some fanfic vibes, I enjoyed Act Your Age, Eve Brown by Talia Hibbert

If you want dark Zutara vibes, my go-to rec and one of my favorite series is The Poppy War trilogy (I will never get over #rinezha)

I wouldn't say I adore The Legendborn Cycle series, but I still like it, you can tell the author has roots in the fan/fanfic scene I think, and again, I think it has some Zutara vibes. Tracy Deonn 100% had to have been inspired by Zuko for her character Sel, I'm convinced. And her take on the Arthurian legend is really unique and creative.

[shellyseashell]

2023 FIC REC LIST

I did this last year, and I thought I’d do it again. To close out 2023, here’s a list of some of my favorite fics I’ve read this year. These aren’t everything, just of course the highlights. If the author has a tumblr, I tried to tag them, but if I missed anyone let me know or feel free to tag them yourself!

WILLOW

did i dream (that we were so perfectly entwined) | General | Tanthamore | One Shot | 8.9k

Jade and Kit, from childhood through season one. Jade’s pov.

Our hardest battles are the oaths we keep by @rehizle28 | Mature | Tanthamore | 7/25 | 50.9k

Jade grows up as a Knight of Galladoorn. When Graydon and Kit are engaged, she travels to Tir Asleen as Graydon’s personal guard. Words cannot describe how much I love this. The pining and shenanigans these two get into is so so good. Kit causes problems on purpose and Jade Cannot figure out what the princess’s deal is. King Hastur is perfectly normal and has Totally Good intentions.

be my mirror (my sword and shield) by @onlyshestandsthere | Explicit | Tanthamore | 30/? | 228k

Bone Reaver Jade helps the Crone’s followers bring Kit to the Immemorial City. Quite easily one of the angstiest fics I have ever read. But for all 100k of angst there’s another 100k of fluff and that’s only vaguely an exaggeration. The magic is absolutely horrifying but it feels totally realistic to what we’ve seen in canon. Jade and Kit both need a hug.

if we’d turned a corner (if i had waited) by @sugarfey | Mature | Tanthamore | 5/? | 13.9k

Soccer au! There’s plenty of angst in this one, but it focuses on the healing. I love everything about this fic. Kit and Jade are so dumb as usual and I love the social media bits.

The Flawless Five, Vol. 1: Rise of the Five | Teen | Gen | 2/6 | 11.9k

Superhero au! It’s silly and goofy and so so much fun to read. I’m really liking the mystery so far, and I’m looking forward to how it unfolds.

Triumph of the Wyrm | Mature | Tanthamore | 3/12 | 13.8k

Series still currently in the first book. Kit successfully runs away, and every attempt to rescue Airk fails. Twenty years later, the world is under the rule of the Wyrm. Kit and Jade work in smuggling, unaware what happened to the other. Until, of course, they end up working together on a job. The world is so so horrifying but so well done. Also, Kit is allies with Sarris the Troll.

Let’s take a knife and cut the world in two by @spybrarian | Mature | Tanthamore | One Shot | 7.9k

Exorcist Jade and possessed Kit! Very angsty. The worldbuilding is very very well done and so so horrifying.

these walls come tumbling down by @onlyshestandsthere | Teen | Tanthamore | 4/? | 28.8k

Vet Jade and Perfectly Normal Human Kit. After Jade hits Kit (as a cat) with her car, she takes it upon herself to take care of her. Told in two timelines, one in Kit’s pov before the accident, and one in Jade’s pov after. I have laughed so much reading this I absolutely adore it.

One Night in October | Teen | Tanthamore | 9/9 | 29.k

Slasher fic! Angsty, mysterious, but it has a bittersweet ending.

Sink or Swim | Mature | Tanthamore | 7/7 | 16k

Lifeguard Jade and disaster Kit. Seriously she is so, so dumb and it is so, so funny.

LEGENDBORN

Rescue | General | Gen | 1/1 | 4k

Valec’s point of view of Chapter 42. I love Valec okay.

A Place at the Table | General | Gen | 1/1 | 7k

Legendborn/Merlin cross over. Basically, Arthur is a lot better than in canon and it’s so nice to read after Bloodmarked.

Beach Day Memory Walk by @justbrainrot | Mature | OT3 | 1/1 | 3.5k

Bree takes Sel and Nick on a memory walk during Sel’s birthday. Super cute and fun.

Mother, Merlin | Mature | Gen | 4/? | 13k

Natasia healing Sel after the events of Bloodmarked. Very very angsty, but also very very good. I love how Natasia is written.

Dancing in the moonlight by @nightworldlove | Teen | Willark | One Shot | 3k

William and Lark dance. Uh. In the moonlight. Very cute one shot.

Sometimes Hunting and Running Blur Together… by @ficnoire2 | Explicit | Other | 4/? | 11.9k

Valec backstory and I absolutely adore it

DESCENDANTS

Yeah I’m pretty sure we’ve all probably read most of these but nevertheless

Blessed Art Thou Among Women | Mature | Gen | One Shot | 1.3k

Claudine and the Catholic virtues

Descendants: A Different Tale by @kanzakurawrites | Teen | Gen | 9/? | 17.9k

I think this altered my brain chemistry tbh Mal deserves the best parents

Dark Fire by @dragoneyes618

Yeah just go read these if you like Claudine

Obligatory @isleofdarkness shoutout I am quite literally obsessed with this au

Let Dead Men Lie by @dragoneyes618 | General | One Shot | 2.6k

Everyone takes the blame for killing Frollo. Ben is struggling.

Death threats on Dead Beauty by @panthera-tigris-venenata | Mature | Gen | 2/3 | 2.7k

Listen I think Harry should be this feral all the time

the devil had done for the rest | Teen | Gen | One Shot | 2.5k

Harriet! Harry! Yeah that’s all.

Cursed || Harriet Hook | Teen | One Shot | 10.7k

Any Harriet content makes me insane and this is no different. Harriet backstory.

THE MECHANISMS

love in his own eyes by @nonbinarylowkey | General | Gen & Multi | One Shot | 5k

Arthur’s first night as a father

(im)mortality by @nonbinarylowkey | Teen | Multi | One Shot | 7.7k

Arthur handles Mordred’s “death” in a perfectly normal way. Sometimes I think about this fic and take physic damage.

From The Wastes His Child Came (Bringing Revelations Of All Things) | Teen | Other | 3/3 | 7k

Arthur forgets trans people exist and finds Mordred. I’ve reread this so many times I adore it.

la soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre by @ladydragonkiller | General | Gen | One Shot | 6.4k

Brian falls from the gallows and stops the Battle of Camlann, as he should

Inverse Suspension | General | Gen & Multi | One Shot | 3.4k

Mordred frees Brian, and everything turns out okay

no path past kindred’s stain | Teen | Multi | 3/3 | 9.8k

Pendragon backstories my beloved <3

[seravphs]

do you have any gojo/yuta fic recs??? i binged all of yours oop-

You have no idea how excited I was to get this ask 😁 Thank you both for reading all my Gojo/Yuuta fics and for giving me the opportunity to rave about fics I love!!

You can look through everything I've rec'd in my sera reads tag but it's not organized at all, so it won't be sorted by character or anything. There's probably a lot of Gojo in there though! I haven't read as much for Yuuta but I love him enough that there will probably be more in the future. Obviously check the byf/dni of everyone before you interact as well!

minors dni | if you like Gojo and Yuuta, @princess-okkotsu was a a Gojo girl before she was Yuuta's most ardent supporter so you might really like her work! She has a wip office romance about Gojo that I dream about every day so you should look forward to that because I am!

minors dni | @seoafin is completely unparalleled at what she does. Morgan does a fantastic job at weaving really poignant and human themes into her work without hitting you over the head with it. Ripverse is universally famous at this point but if you want to buddy read Dog Days Are Over with me I have reviews for it in my recs tag! Super recommend DDAO, along with all her other works. This is my review for chapter one. I'm reading chapter four right now! We can cry together 💜

minors dni | @mintmatcha is obviously well known for all the right reasons but my personal faves are vignettes and this unnamed thing for Gojo, both of which I have reviews for. Don't ask me about how I feel about vignettes because I can't go through that again, it's all in the tags I left. My favorite line from the unnamed fic is "If I were normal, I would have let you hold my hand." Doesn't that make you want to scream?

minors dni | @yeowchies Whet Your Appetite was sooo delicious. It does an absolutely incredible job of really making you feel the tension in the relationship, the push and pull dynamics, and the burgeoning attraction!

@shiinleaf I'm actually embarrassed that I don't think I've had the chance to read anything by Xin yet but this post she made makes me feel so insane, so feel free to peruse her masterlist!

@stellamancer I'm in the middle of reading and reviewing Niku's merman series Shine On The Sea now! I've had the privilege to listen to her thoughts on this fic in the dms, so even though I haven't read it yet, I know it's going to be good. She also has several wips for Gojo that I'm insane about - keep an eye out for this whenever she's ready! Isn't it so good?

@shotorus I haven't had the chance to read it yet but Sel said she wrote Do You Believe In Love with Teen Dad! Gojo in mind, so if you liked that universe of mine, I'm sure you'll like this too!

[thinkinonsense]

so so good! <3

Discrete Packaging

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Warnings: vaginismus, mentions of pussy jobs, use of sex toy (cock ring, fleshlight & wand vibrator), no penetrative sex, breast play, pet name (princess), overstimulation, thigh fucking, smut (18+)

Summary: Ready to try something new, you order some helpful toys and play with Logan.

A/N: shout out to people with vaginismus or just really tight pussies, yall gotta be one of my favorite genders! (Joking tone)

No pressure to read, just tagging some of my favorite writers for Logan: @moonlight-prose @joelsgoldrush @eupheme @inkedells @superhoeva @ozarkthedog @gh0stsp1d3r

Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY WORKS ON OTHER PLATFORMS

The mansion’s hallways are lonely. So lonely, your footsteps echo as you climb up the stairs in search of your Logan’s bedroom. Three sharp knocks on the door serve as a warning before you twist the knob open and walk into the spacious room.

“You know, it’s so unfair,” you call out, making sure to lock the door as you make your way to the bed. You pout before continuing, “Your room is so much bigger than mine.”

“Perks of being a sub,” the voice of your mutant boyfriend calls out from the private bathroom.

Fresh out of the shower, Logan’s hair drips onto his bare shoulders. Loose strands of hair fall on his forehead as he uses the towel thrown over his should to dry the rest of his hair. A pair of dark sweatpants hang low on his hips as the tangled drawstrings fight to keep the thin fabric from falling down.

Your eyes are glued on him as he makes his way to you, sitting on the edge of his bed. The familiar smell of his shampoo fills your nostrils, the scent only getting stronger when he stands between your split knees. A smile creeps on your face when his hand gently tilts your chin up to face his towering figure.

Rough hands find your cheeks. Logan’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip and taps it when your eyes find his. His eyes are soft then closing as he leans down to press an innocent kiss on your lips, a ritual hello.

“Hi, Princess.”

A smile creeps up your face as you mumble your hello back. You reach for another kiss, but Logan twists away from your hold, the hands that found themselves playing with the drawstrings of his sweats fall.

“Got a package,” he states, handing you a bulky box.

Embarrassment creeps up your skin as you stare at the box sealed with a bright pink label reading an itemized list. Big, bold vulgar words paired with your full name make you cringe. Nervous eyes then find Logan’s amused ones staring down at you.

“They said they had discrete packaging,” you whine with shaky hands raising the box to one of Logan’s fists.

The sound of his claw extending and retracting is sharp. In one blink, the pink tape seal is broken.

“Just be glad it was me who got the package. Could you imagine if Charles-”

You jerk your knee, hitting Logan’s before he can finish his sentence. He only quiets downs when he sees what’s inside the box. A clear double-orifice and spongy-like sleeve stares at Logan as you pull out three other items out of the box. A small bottle, no doubt some type of water-based lubricant, a black silicon ring, and bulky device with a mushroom head and long charging cord attached.

“They are supposed help,” you mumble shyly as you discard the box beside you.

Reflecting on your failed attempts at having sex with Logan you remember nails digging into his biceps, hissing his name, and begging him to stop when the tip of his cock tries to shove itself inside you. Trying hard to ignore the flashbacks of the burning sensation that lingers between your legs after Logan’s pulls away as he apologizes profosely.

Even when you tried again a couple weeks later, you remember Logan’s painful groans when your walls spasm and squeeze uncontrollably around the head of his cock.

Because of these past experiences, penetrative sex has never seem like an option, hence the purchase.

“What’s that?” The question falls past his lips before he can stop it. His eyes glued to the toy you have in your hand, the sleeve only slightly bigger than your fist.

Throwing the toy aside and making a mental note to clean them, you stand up and wrap your hands around his waist, fingertips tugging on his elastic waistband. Looking up at him with a smile, “I’ll show you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow never came.

Logan got called to a mission, so days turn into weeks and the unpackaged, washed toys sat untouched in his top drawer.

So that’s how you find yourself in the middle of Logan’s bed, breathing in his lingering scent.

Hugging his pillow to your chest, tangling your bare legs in his sheets. Your night shirt clings onto your body, nipples pebbling through the thin material. Your sleep shorts failing to cover your ass when you stretch your leg over Logan’s second pillow. You try your best your best to ignore the heat between your thighs and let sleep take you.

Even in your sleep your mind wanders back to the time Logan suggested to try something new, reassuring you that he wouldn’t hurt you. His firm hands manhandling you so your legs are thrown over his shoulders as he grind his cock over the thin material of your underwear.

Remembering the way he cursed your name and teased you for soaking through your panties. The soaked material clinging onto your lips allowing Logan’s leaking cock to rub against your clit. His arms that hold his weight caged you in, his forehead pressed against yours as you breathe out his name.

Recalling how you bit your lip to stifle your moans every time his cock bumped on your clit, lifting your hips to chase your orgasm. With his lips on yours, you cried against his mouth as you came, further soaking your panties. It wasn’t long after that Logan groan out your name and spilled onto your panties making them all sticky.

With a loud huff you blink your eyes open. Throwing the bedsheets off your sweaty body and gasping when you see a dark figure by the door that’s getting closed shut.

“Logan?”

“It’s me, Princess.”

Still sleepy, you stand on your knees, reaching your arms out for him. Instinctively, his legs carry him to you, hands grip your waist, and lips kiss yours.

His ritual kiss isn’t soft nor sweet. Instead it’s desperate and harsh, almost bruising.

Groaning into your mouth, his teeth find your bottom lip, demanding you to let him in before his tongue is exploring your mouth. One hand on your waist, the other is cradling your face pulling you impossibly closer to his frantic lips.

“Missed you so much ,” you almost whine between kisses. Tugging that the roots of his hair, his lips now trailing over your jaw.

He groans into your neck, inhaling your scent. His mind wanders back to the way his body missed you when he was gone. Waking up with an achy cock which led him to spitting onto his palm and kicking off the sheets. During his late nights, he painted the shower walls with the loud curse of your name.

“Missed you more.”

Pulling away, you laugh when Logan frowns. Bare feet hit the cold wood floors as they take you to Logan’s nightstand. His eyes fail at following your curious hands, instead they focus on the skin peeking from your booty shorts as you bend over.

The sight of you bent over, the thin cloth doing a half-ass job in covering your pussy, has him shamelessly readjusting himself in jeans. He wants nothing more than to tug your shorts to the side and lick you up. Distracted, he misses your request to lie down.

“What’s that, Princess?” He asks softly, eyes still glued to your ass.

This time you’re on your hands and knees, a wire in one hand as the other holds your weight as you look for an outlet. A blind hand repeatedly misses the outlet you swore was just there. Dropping the wire, angling your head to see the outlet before trying again.

“Can you lie down for me and close your eyes?” Your voice comes from under the bed as you finally find the outlet and plug in the toy you’ve been wanting to try for months.

Blood rushes to your head when you stand back up, a wand vibrator in one hand as the other one digs for more in Logan’s top drawer. Curious eyes watch you as Logan kicks off his boots, tugs his shirt and denim jeans off. Lying on the bed, his lashes kiss his cheeks as he waits patiently for you.

The bed dips as you kneel your way over to Logan’s body. The muscles in your inner thighs stretch as they widen to accommodate his thighs. Instinctively, Logan’s hand find your waist and with his precision, you’d think his eyes are open.

The mushroom-tipped device rests by Logan’s steady arms as you sit the stretchy ring on his rising chest. Lastly, you place the clear toy, the one you’re most excited for, next to the wand.

“Logan.”

He hums, his fingers run squeeze your waist, eyes still closed.

“Wanna try something.”

“We can try whatever you want, Princess.” He almost purs. Dark eyes flutter open and meet yours, filled with love and longing. He missed you.

You smile at his nickname for you, holding your weight with the hand on his chest before leaning down to kiss him. The kiss is sweet. Another ritual hello.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

Fingers dig into the meat on your hips as you shift over his body and reach for the small bottle of lube on the nightstand. In no time, you’re back on his lap, tugging his underwear down, and smearing a drop of lube on the head of his semi-hard cock.

Wrapping your hand around his cock, smiling when you hear a soft sigh of your name. You stroke his cock, once then twice before you reach for the black ring resting on his chest.

Logan stares down at you, using his elbows to hold himself up. His stomach flexes as he watches you drag the stretchy, yet stiff ring over the base of his growing cock.

“Does that feel okay?” You ask softly, eyes glued to his glistening cock.

“Yeah,” he growls, hips shifting beneath you when you work your fist over the tip of his cock.

You can feel him grow in your fist, his cock throbs in your hold. Logan’s chest falls with each huff and moan of your name. His abs flex repeatedly as your hand works faster.

Sneakily, you grab the orifice next to Logan and position the toy above his cock. Eyes try to find his, but his head is thrown back as he groans and shifts beneath you.

Logan can only suck in a deep breath when the tip of cock is swallowed by the textured orifice. Logan’s moans only get louder at the tip of his cock peeks out the other end of the toy.

“You’re so hard.”

The praise goes straight to his cock as he shifts once more. His eyes rolled to the back of head. His desperate and grabby hands have now slipped under your sleeping shorts. His hands find your ass and squeeze.

Mesmerized, you watch as you repeatedly pump his cock, squelching sounds fill the room as Logan’s cock leaks uncontrollably.

“Feels so good.”

You giggle before shushing him softly, worried his volume would wake the others sleeping just down the hall.

“So tight.”

A pang of guilt hits your stomach but Logan’s lips are quick to find yours. His sharp nose bumps yours as the hairs on his face tickles you. The soft sounds of his lips kissing yours fills your ears, one of Logan’s calloused hands caress your face.

He smells like cigars, but you can still smell hints of wood.

His groans only get louder when you squeeze the toy around his cock. Your weight traps his flexing thighs, his constricted movements cause you to bounce in his lap. The image of you riding his cock flood Logan’s mind as his hip thrust to meet yours.

“Let me look at you,” he begs beneath you, lazily tugging at your shirt.

Slipping his cock out of the toy, you giggle when it slaps against his stomach, almost touching his belly button. Quickly, you slip out of your shirt, allowing for his hands to find your breasts. You sigh his name softly when he tugs harshly at your nipples. The act making them harden under his touch.

Distracted by your breasts, Logan pays no attention as you reach over him for the bulky device next to him. It isn’t until soft sounds of vibrations make him perk awake. You laugh at his face. Sweat builds on his hairline, his neck is flushed, and his lips are swollen.

Eyes fall down to his cock, the tip of his cock, angry and leaking. He stares at you as you let the bottle of lube dribble onto the mushroom head of the device. The white top glistens softly before the vibrating toy is pressed against the base of his cock.

“Fuck.”

The curse escapes past his lips before he can hold it. Hands massaging your breasts fall and wrap around your wrists. His grip stops yours from trailing the toy up to his leaking tip. Rather then fighting against his hold, you drag the toy down and press it against his balls.

The sound that escapes his lips has blood rushing to your cheeks and squirming on his lap. The squirming beneath you gets more frantic, almost as if he doesn’t know if he wants to run from or towards the vibrations. The black ring around the base of his cock strains slightly as his cock twitches again and again.

“I want-” his words are cut off by a moan when you shove the wand past his hands and onto his tip.

Claws threaten to peek out when you whine his name and call his cock pretty. The praise goes straight to his cock as he dribbles more precome onto the already shining wand. “I want you.”

Before you can ask him anything, firm hands find your waist and flips you over so he’s on top of you. Your legs wrap around his waist as your heart pounds. The wand buzzes next to you as your hands caress his face. Lips smash together as his hips down to grind against you.

Most purring into the kiss, you take in how hard his leaky cock feels against your pussy. Your sleep short do little to protect you, sticky with your slick. Nails scratch at his back, painting pink lines that fade in seconds. Desperate hands pull at your shorts as he presses soft, wet kisses on your jawline.

“Want you to feel good.”

“But you can’t go inside.” You fight back pathetically, still you help him tug off your shorts.

“Don’t need that.” He reassures softly as he takes control of the buzzing wand and presses it against your throbbing clit.

Squirming beneath him, your nails dig crescents into his shoulder blades. Your thighs threaten to shut, but his large body stops you. Gasping when Logan finds a glowing button and ups the vibrations. The cord attach to the bulky device brushes over your sensitive nipples making you whine.

Another click reaches your ears and the vibrations get stronger. Subconsciously, your hand, similar to Logan’s, reaches down to grip the device. You don’t know if its because you wanted to shut it off or push it away, but Logan doesn’t allow for either. Instead his words send a shiver down your spine.

“Move your hand.”

His tone makes your hands fall limp as you have no choice but to moan his name. With a fuzzy mind, you reach for the clear toy and slide it over Logan’s cock. His grip on the wand falters causing the vibrations to travel lower. The unmistakable feeling of fear fills you as your muscles tighten. Your thighs trap Logan’s hips as your body subconsciously fights to cover itself. Embarrassment then floods your body as you shy away from his touch, you hate when this happens.

“Sorry.”

Logan shushes you with a kiss and pressing the wand back on your clit, a vibrating distraction. With a shaky breath, you fuck Logan’s cock once more with the toy. The sounds of his wet cock sliding in and out of the toy makes you whine. Slowly, your body relaxes and takes in the pleasure.

Your hand works faster as you feel your orgasm built back up and approaching fast. Logan takes in how your chest rises with each breath, how your free hand reaches to massage your left breast, squeezing as you beg for more. Quick to satisfy for your needs, Logan’s mouth works on your breasts. Sucking your nipple and letting it go with a wet pop. He presses wet kisses on your breast before sucking on your other nipple. Teasingly, his teeth bite at your nipple, the final straw.

Your mouth falls open as you let out a silent gasp. Your thighs shake as you gush over all the mushroom tipped toy, and over Logan’s leaky cock. The wand doesn’t stop, instead it’s pressed harder against your sensitive clit.

“Come on, princess, one more.”

Your head shakes no as your hands reach to pull the wand away. Logan lets you, but the wand is replaced with his cock.

The clear orfice is long forgotten as Logan hooks your legs over his shoulders and slaps his cock against your pussy. The wet smacks make you whine his name, your body jolting at every slap.

“So wet, Princess,” he praises, nudging the head of his cock against your clit. “Soak my cock.”

Your hamstrings ache when he leans down to kiss you, your knees now touching your chest. The stretch makes you whine and Logan groans at the new sensation of your thighs hugging his cock paired with your pussy wetting the underside of his cock. His eyes roll back, rough hands squeeze your thighs, closing them tighter.

For the last time you cry out his name as your clench repeatedly around nothing and gush on Logan cock once more. Your sweet moans push him over the edge and suddenly he’s moaning your name just as loud. Fingertips dig into your thighs, no doubt bruising them, as his cock spills all over your stomach and leaks on your glistening pussy.

You watch with a smile as Logan comes down from his orgasm. Sore legs fall to wrap around his waist as he stands on his knees. The look of admiration covers his face as he stares down at you.

“Did you like it?” Suddenly shy, you avoid eye contact.

Your eyes fall to Logan’s cock, watching as he removes the cock ring with an overstimulated hiss. The wand is still next to you, buzzing softly before you reach to turn it off. He didn’t know about your purchase, he only found out about the toys because the discrete packing.

“Loved it, Princess,” he approves softly.

With a genuine smile, you finger taps your lips twice, beckoning him for a kiss. Never has he made you feel like your condition has turned him off. Instead, he has always been the one reassuring you that penetrative sex is not necessary in your relationship, but you wanted to work on it he’s more than happy to help.

“Come on I’ll run you a bath,” Logan says sweetly, staring at you confused when your jaw drops.

“Your room is way better than mine. Can’t believe you have a bathtub.”

Logan smiles, pulling you up to stand on your feet as your name figure almost skips to his bathroom. Wide eyes stare at the other spacious room as you mutter a small curse against Charles.

“Only way to fix that is if you move in with me.”

“Might take you up on that.”

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