thinkinonsense
sel✮
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writing nonsense.ᐟᡣ𐭩
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thinkinonsense · 10 hours ago
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old man!logan x fem!reader
masterlist
— nothing was going right for logan tonight. work was shit and his body ached with indescribable pain. the only thing he wanted to do was crawl home to you.
"l-lo...?"
your sleepy voice was barely audible. logan tried to be quiet as he came into the house later than usual.
"hey, princess." he mutters, ridding himself of his suit jacket and slipping off his shoes.
"come lay down with me." you beg softly, wanting him to scoop you up into his big arms and cradle you like a delicate little thing.
"in a minute..." he replies, kneeling down at the foot of the bed. "wanna see my girl."
logan pulls the thin sheet off of your body; only covered by one of his shirts and a pair of lavender panties. nothing special but he adored them anyways.
"looks like she missed me too." he groans, swiping his thumb over the wet spot that grows in between your legs.
still half asleep but moaning quietly into one of the pillows next to you.
lately this is all he's been wanting to do when he returns home. lay in between your legs either slowly making out with your cunt or fingering you until you're on the verge of tears. not that you minded this sudden change, never rejecting logan from his acclaimed spot between your thighs.
"gonna let me spend some time with her, sweetheart?" he says, not expecting a verbal response.
you lazily nod your head and lift your hips a little so he can pull down your panties, tossing them aside.
"atta girl."
the low rumble in his voice left you whimpering. like a tease, logan spreads your folds, watching your arousal leak from within you. he loved splitting you open and seeing his affect on you.
"what's gotcha so soaked, baby?" he coos at your cunt, blowing a little air on it and watching how your body responds to it, hips wiggling and hole clenching for him.
"she's just cryin' for me, huh?" he chuckles, lifting your tired legs back near your head as he towers over you.
"p-please..." you whine, looking up at him with glossy eyes.
without saying a word, logan slips his middle and ring fingers inside of you, nudging that sweet spot of yours. a choked moan escapes you and your hands fly to his wrist. what's usually gentle soon turns vigorous at the pace he's moving.
"uh- fuck!" you gasp, fully awake now. " 's too much, lo."
"you can take it, sweetheart." he says sternly as his other hand draws circles on one of your legs, holding them in the air.
heat pools in your belly as you scratch your nails down logan's wrists. he can't help but adore the little 'uh-uh-uh's' spilling from your plump lips. the lewd slaps of slick fill the room as his pace picks up, bumping his fingertips against the spongy spot inside of you.
"d-don't stop, please." you beg, staring up at him with glossy, glazed over eyes. soft little mumbles of "pleasepleaseplease" ringing in logan's ears like his favorite song.
"fuck, practically cutting off my circulation." logan grunts before spitting on your button and using his thumb to stimulate you further.
all that can be heard are your incoherent babbles and logan's grunts of encouragement. his thick rough fingers stretch you in ways you didn't think were possible.
logan leans down to kiss your trembling lips, grunting at the little whimpers that escape. the fast slaps of his palm on your clit makes you bite down on his lower lip, healing so quickly that you don't even taste any blood.
"c'mon princess..." he groans, pulling apart just enough to speak. "be a good girl and soak my hand for me."
in that moment, his fingers inside of you are perfectly timed with the circles his thumb draws, sending you into a state of nirvana. panting and moaning against logan's lips while he praises you.
"that's it, sweetheart."
"there's my good girl."
once your heart rate returns to normal, logan cleans you up with a small rag before laying down in bed next to you. his muscular arms wrap around you and pull you in so he can spoon you.
"miss me that much?" you ask with a small chuckle as he kisses your neck.
"mhm, had another shitty day and needed to spend some time with my girl." he answers, words muffled by your hair.
"aw, i'm sorry baby." you turn over to face him, pecking his lips. "anything i can do to make it better?"
"it's already better now, honey." he reassures, brushing hair out of your face.
"too bad...." you smirk. "was gonna offer to ride you."
logan's eyes darken with lust as you move to straddle him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. warm hands roam around his shirtless torso, innocently drawing lazy outlines of his abs.
who could blame you for wanting to be an attentive girlfriend?
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thinkinonsense · 23 hours ago
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needneedneeeeed😵‍💫
Thinking about Natasha’s beefy arms wrapping themselves around your waist as you ride her strap. Just watching her shudder under you, desperately panting as she watches her cock disappear into you. She is so needy when she gets to fuck you, wanting so badly to pound into you, only for you to grip her shoulders and warn her to behave.
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thinkinonsense · 23 hours ago
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need to write some gay shit soon. vote or ur homophobic (jk... kinda)
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thinkinonsense · 23 hours ago
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old man!logan x fem!reader
masterlist
— nothing was going right for logan tonight. work was shit and his body ached with indescribable pain. the only thing he wanted to do was crawl home to you.
"l-lo...?"
your sleepy voice was barely audible. logan tried to be quiet as he came into the house later than usual.
"hey, princess." he mutters, ridding himself of his suit jacket and slipping off his shoes.
"come lay down with me." you beg softly, wanting him to scoop you up into his big arms and cradle you like a delicate little thing.
"in a minute..." he replies, kneeling down at the foot of the bed. "wanna see my girl."
logan pulls the thin sheet off of your body; only covered by one of his shirts and a pair of lavender panties. nothing special but he adored them anyways.
"looks like she missed me too." he groans, swiping his thumb over the wet spot that grows in between your legs.
still half asleep but moaning quietly into one of the pillows next to you.
lately this is all he's been wanting to do when he returns home. lay in between your legs either slowly making out with your cunt or fingering you until you're on the verge of tears. not that you minded this sudden change, never rejecting logan from his acclaimed spot between your thighs.
"gonna let me spend some time with her, sweetheart?" he says, not expecting a verbal response.
you lazily nod your head and lift your hips a little so he can pull down your panties, tossing them aside.
"atta girl."
the low rumble in his voice left you whimpering. like a tease, logan spreads your folds, watching your arousal leak from within you. he loved splitting you open and seeing his affect on you.
"what's gotcha so soaked, baby?" he coos at your cunt, blowing a little air on it and watching how your body responds to it, hips wiggling and hole clenching for him.
"she's just cryin' for me, huh?" he chuckles, lifting your tired legs back near your head as he towers over you.
"p-please..." you whine, looking up at him with glossy eyes.
without saying a word, logan slips his middle and ring fingers inside of you, nudging that sweet spot of yours. a choked moan escapes you and your hands fly to his wrist. what's usually gentle soon turns vigorous at the pace he's moving.
"uh- fuck!" you gasp, fully awake now. " 's too much, lo."
"you can take it, sweetheart." he says sternly as his other hand draws circles on one of your legs, holding them in the air.
heat pools in your belly as you scratch your nails down logan's wrists. he can't help but adore the little 'uh-uh-uh's' spilling from your plump lips. the lewd slaps of slick fill the room as his pace picks up, bumping his fingertips against the spongy spot inside of you.
"d-don't stop, please." you beg, staring up at him with glossy, glazed over eyes. soft little mumbles of "pleasepleaseplease" ringing in logan's ears like his favorite song.
"fuck, practically cutting off my circulation." logan grunts before spitting on your button and using his thumb to stimulate you further.
all that can be heard are your incoherent babbles and logan's grunts of encouragement. his thick rough fingers stretch you in ways you didn't think were possible.
logan leans down to kiss your trembling lips, grunting at the little whimpers that escape. the fast slaps of his palm on your clit makes you bite down on his lower lip, healing so quickly that you don't even taste any blood.
"c'mon princess..." he groans, pulling apart just enough to speak. "be a good girl and soak my hand for me."
in that moment, his fingers inside of you are perfectly timed with the circles his thumb draws, sending you into a state of nirvana. panting and moaning against logan's lips while he praises you.
"that's it, sweetheart."
"there's my good girl."
once your heart rate returns to normal, logan cleans you up with a small rag before laying down in bed next to you. his muscular arms wrap around you and pull you in so he can spoon you.
"miss me that much?" you ask with a small chuckle as he kisses your neck.
"mhm, had another shitty day and needed to spend some time with my girl." he answers, words muffled by your hair.
"aw, i'm sorry baby." you turn over to face him, pecking his lips. "anything i can do to make it better?"
"it's already better now, honey." he reassures, brushing hair out of your face.
"too bad...." you smirk. "was gonna offer to ride you."
logan's eyes darken with lust as you move to straddle him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. warm hands roam around his shirtless torso, innocently drawing lazy outlines of his abs.
who could blame you for wanting to be an attentive girlfriend?
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thinkinonsense · 1 day ago
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i got it bad
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logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)
word count: 4.9k
summary/prompt: logan can't help that he has super hearing and overhears you - wade's seemingly sweet, shy neighbor - telling vanessa what you fantasize about doing to him. believing that you won't ever act on it, he takes matters into his own hands.
or - getting yourself off on logan's abs
warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, reader is afab, no use of y/n, logan's pov, porn with a little plot, male masturbation, teasing, nipple/breast play, some tit slaps, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, cream pie
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Ever since Logan first met you, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his fucking head.
Which is really unfortunate for him, considering you seem indifferent to his existence.
Wade says that you're just an introvert, and that it takes you a while to get comfortable around new people, but after living across the hallway from you for the last few months, Logan is sure that you have no interest in him outside of simple, polite conversation whenever the two of you run into each other.
He first notices you from across the room when you enter Wade and Althea's apartment – his apartment now, too, he supposes. The small space is crowded, but you're impossible for him to overlook. He instantly recognizes you from the polaroid picture that Wade had showed him in the Void.
You’re greeted by Vanessa, who kisses you on the cheek and shoves a drink in your hand before dragging you over to where Logan is listening to Wade and Althea bicker about – what were they bickering about again? All he can focus on is the way your dress hugs your curves and the lipstick imprint that you’ve left on the champagne flute in your hand.
He needs to get out more. Go to a bar, get a job, maybe even try out one of those dating apps that Vanessa has suggested to him – something to get him out of this fucking apartment that he's stayed holed up in since arriving in this universe, because he should not be this flustered by a complete stranger.
“Earth to Peanut,” Wade snaps his fingers in front of Logan’s face. He barely processed anything Vanessa had said while she introduced you. Blah blah, neighbor, something something, lives down the hallway. “Jesus, did you get into the white powder under the floorboard? Your pupils are as big as saucers right now.”
“Oh, go easy on him, Wade,” Althea scolds. “It’s natural for pupils to dilate when looking at a pretty girl.”
The expression on your face matches how Logan feels – surprised, embarrassed, slightly mortified.
“You don't even know what she looks like. She could look like me for all you know,” Wade snorts.
“She brings me homemade cookies and she always smells good,” Al retorts. “I don't need to be able to see her to know that she's pretty.”
“Nice to meet you,” Logan finally speaks up with a forced smile. Leave it to his two roommates to make a simple introduction as awkward as possible. “And no, I am not high on cocaine,” he adds with a pointed glare at Wade.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Logan,” you return the sentiment with a chortle and shy smile. “And don’t worry, I never pay attention to anything Wade says.”
Yukio and her girlfriend with the long ass name that Logan has yet to memorize then walk up and gain your attention, leaving Logan wishing he could redo the entire interaction.
He spends the rest of the night hoping for an opportunity to talk to you again, and feeling disappointed when that doesn’t happen.
The next couple of months go similarly. He runs into you frequently – in the elevator, and the communal laundry room of the apartment complex, and when you’re both checking your mail at the same time.
You always greet him with a smile and ask the typical casual conversation questions – how he's liking his new job (he’s not, but he tells you it’s going fine), if Wade is staying out of trouble (no), and how Laura is doing (she’s doing great, actually), but it never progresses much past that.
As soon as the conversation starts to venture into more personal territory, you seem to shut down. You’ll make some excuse about having somewhere to be, wish him a good day, and then you’re gone.
He can’t help himself. He sees how carefree and talkative you can be with Vanessa and hell, even Wade – and he wants that. At least then he may feel a little less crazy for spending so much of his free time racking his brain for ways to get closer to you.
Maybe it’s because it has been so long since he’s had a crush on anyone, but sometimes he thinks he might be losing his mind with how often he thinks of you – your smile, your eyes, your scent, your voice, and the way that having a five minute conversation with you always leaves him feeling for the rest of the day.
That’s why when he’s walking to his apartment one evening, and hears his name come from inside your apartment, he stops dead in his fucking tracks.
God, he knows he shouldn’t listen. He knows he should keep walking, go into his apartment and close the door.
But it’s not like he has his ear pressed up against your door. It’s not his fault that he has super hearing and that the apartment building has paper thin walls.
His brain is yelling at his feet to move but they stay planted firm right where they are.
“He thinks you don’t like him, you know,” Vanessa says. Logan doesn’t need to be able to see to know that there’s a smirk on her face.
He’s tempted to cause some kind of commotion in the hallway and then dash into his apartment, just to stop Vanessa from saying whatever the hell she’s about to say.
“Logan?” You sound appalled. “Of course I like him.”
“I know that you like him,” Vanessa chuckles. “But I can see why he would think otherwise. You act like you can barely stand to be in the same room as the guy for five minutes.”
“That’s not true.” Your voice shoots up several octaves higher than normal.
Logan sends a silent prayer to whoever the fuck is listening that no one walks down this hallway in the next few minutes and sees him standing still as a statue next to your apartment door.
“It’s not that I simply can’t stand to be in the same room as him,” you continue, lowering your voice back down to its normal volume. “It’s that being in the same room as him makes me want to jump his adamantium bones.”
For a second, he really believes that his two hundred year old heart might stop beating.
“I’m fucking pathetic around him,” you huff. “Last week, I saw him pull his t-shirt off in the laundry room to put a clean one on, and ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about grinding my pussy against his abs. Something is seriously wrong with me, Nes.”
But Logan doesn’t hear Vanessa’s response, because he speed walks away while she’s still cackling. By some miracle, Wade isn’t home, so Logan darts past Althea and locks himself in the bathroom.
What the fuck, Jesus Christ, and holy shit all play on a loop in his mind while he tries to ignore the bulge that has quickly formed in his jeans.
The last words he expected to hear anyone say today were jump his adamantium bones and grinding my pussy against his abs – but the fact that he heard those words come from your mouth in your sweet voice has his cock throbbing so hard that he can't think of anything other than you doing exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about.
Images of you straddling him with your bare, wet cunt rubbing against his happy trail, getting yourself off on his body as he plays with your pretty tits –
He let’s out an audible growl and rips the shower curtain open before turning on the water – straight to his normal hot temperature, too. He knows a cold shower isn't going to do him any good right now.
Standing beneath the hot stream, he thinks of what has transpired in the last five minutes and strokes himself in his hand until warm, white liquid follows the water down the drain.
When he finishes, he stills hears your voice in his mind and gets hard again within minutes.
••••••
Logan hasn’t seen you in three days. Three days might not seem like a long time to go without seeing your neighbor, but it feels like a long fucking time for him. In fact, it’s the longest he’s gone without casually running into you since he first met you months ago.
There’s a reason for this, though – he hasn’t checked his mail in days, hasn’t taken any of his laundry down to the basement in days, and has generally tried to avoid leaving his apartment as much as he can out of fear that he’ll see you. He even went as far as to pretend to be napping when you came by with some fresh baked brownies for Althea yesterday.
He wants to see you, of course. Goddamn, does he want to see you. But after overhearing your conversation with Vanessa earlier this week, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to look you in the eye and pretend like he hasn't been making himself cum to the thought of you on top of him every time he takes a shower.
But after three days, he finds himself missing you too much to keep up his attempt at distancing himself from you.
What if he’s being ridiculous, staying cooped in this apartment to avoid you? What if you’re just down the hallway, thinking about him at the same time he’s thinking of you?
He's tidying up the kitchen when he sees the pink Tupperware container that you’d brought the brownies in yesterday sitting in the sink. The brownies were long gone – they’d all been eaten by him, Wade and Al within the same hour that you brought them over.
Taking the Tupperware back to you would be the nice, neighborly thing to do, right?
With Al already retired to her bedroom for the evening, and Wade out with Vanessa, he takes it upon himself to wash and dry the container.
It’s a Friday night, so he knows there’s a chance that you’ve got plans and might not even be home, but he still takes a few minutes to fix his hair and swipe some deodorant on before walking down the hallway towards your apartment.
As he approaches your door, he realizes that you are home. There’s light spilling from the crack at the bottom of the doorframe and he can hear low music playing inside. A mix of anxiety and anticipation sets in, but he clears his throat and knocks on your door before he can chicken out.
He hears your footsteps approaching and attempts to wipe any sign of nervousness from his face – he’s just returning your Tupperware, for Christ's sake.
“Logan,” you breathe as you open the door. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you greet him. He can’t help but relax at the smile that grows on your face when you realize it’s him. “What are you up to this evening?”
You lean against your doorframe, and Logan has to force himself to maintain eye contact. You’re wearing a matching pajama set – a cute pair of velvet shorts and tank top that shows more of your skin than he’s ever seen before.
“I – uh,” he stammers, holding out the Tupperware container to you. “I just thought I’d bring this back to you. They were great, by the way.”
Your smile spreads to your eyes at his compliment.
“Oh, thanks,” you beam. “I’m glad you got to have one. Wade told me that you were asleep when I came by yesterday so I figured he’d have them eaten by the time you woke up.”
“I’m sure he would have, but Al made him save one for me,” he laughs.
He tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but the fact that you look fresh out of the shower definitely isn’t fucking helping. Bare faced with the scent of your body wash and lotion on your skin, his thoughts begin to stray into dangerous territory fast.
“I don’t wanna interrupt your night, though. I’ll let you get back to—”
“You’re not,” you say quickly as he begins to step backwards. “You're not interrupting. Are you doing anything tonight? I just ordered a pizza and there’s plenty. I was gonna watch a movie, if you want…” You trail off, glancing back and forth between him and your apartment behind you.
He can't help but notice that your voice sounds hopeful.
The invitation excites him more than he cares to admit. Sure, the two of you have hung out plenty of times, but it's always been in a group setting – at one of Wade’s get togethers or movie nights, surrounded by other friends.
But never just the two of you – definitely never in your apartment.
He could never think of saying no to you. Especially not when this is what he's been hoping for since he first me you.
“Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that.”
You hold the door open for him, letting him enter your apartment. Right away, he notices how different it is from the one that he lives in. Then again, there’s three people cramped into Althea’s – you're the only person who lives here, so you're able to make it entirely your own.
It’s cute, and cozy, he thinks. From your furniture adorned with throw pillows and blankets, to all of your shelves stocked with books, knick-knacks and candles, to the various plants occupying space throughout the living room, it feels endearing and welcoming right away.
“So, where’s Wade at tonight?” you ask as he ventures into the living room. He notes a large cardboard box with an untouched pizza in it on your coffee table. His stomach growls at the sight, and it hits him that he actually is fucking starving.
“He’s out with Vanessa. Fourth time this week,” he answers, turning to find you retrieving two plates from a cabinet in your kitchen. You're angled away from him, and when you raise your arms to grab the plates, your tank top lifts enough to give him a clear view of your midriff. He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to find something on your bookshelf particularly interesting.
“I’m just really glad that they’ve worked through things and seem to be happy now,” you sigh. “He wasn’t in a good place after their breakup. Barely ever left his apartment for the longest time.”
“They’ve got something special, that’s for sure,” Logan agrees.
You hand him a plate, walking past him to your couch. You toss some of the decorative throw pillows to your recliner, making room for him on the sofa. You pat the empty space beside you, an invitation for him to make himself at home.
“Who knows, maybe they'll even get their own place soon and I won’t have to share the living room with him anymore,” he says as he sits down beside you.
It’s a pretty small couch – really more like a loveseat – so it’s a snug fit for the two of you. The skin of your exposed kneecap brushes against the fabric of his jeans as you lean forward to grab yourself a slice of pizza.
“Sounds like you just want Blind Al and Mary Puppins all to yourself,” you tease. You hand him a piece of pizza and close the box before propping your feet up on the table. You lean back, looking at him with a smirk and raised brows.
“If he moves, that dog is going with him and you know it. There’s no way he’d leave her behind,” he shakes his head.
“There’s no way Althea would let him take her. She's grown to be as attached to her as Wade is. I think even you like her more than you care to admit.”
“What can I say? She has a way of weaseling herself into your heart,” Logan sighs.
“Oh, it’s definitely the tongue,” you shrug through a bite of pizza.
Logan grimaces as a vivid image of Mary Puppins French kissing Wade awake flashes through his mind, but he can't help but laugh.
You turn on some action-comedy that Logan has never heard of, and the two of you eat and take turns making comments about whatever is happening on the screen for the first half of the movie.
He tries to stay focused on the film, he really does, but every now and then you readjust your position on the couch, causing him to catch a whiff of your perfume or your thigh will brush against his and he'll have to force his attention back to the characters on the screen.
No matter how distracting he may find your mere presence beside him, he's enjoying himself. This is by far the longest the two of you have hung out together, without the additions of his roommates and other friends. He dreads the moment that the movie ends and he’s obligated to tell you goodnight before reluctantly going back to his own apartment.
During the second act of the movie, he wonders what you’re thinking - if you could possibly be feeling the same way as him – when you randomly sit forward, grab the box of the leftover pizza off of the table in front of you, and stand to take it to your refrigerator.
It's then that he picks up on an odor – not the light floral aroma of your perfume but something new. A scent that answers the question of exactly what you had been thinking about. It’s musky and pheromonal, and even though it’s been a while since Logan has been intimate enough with a woman to smell the scent of her arousal, he recognizes it right away.
When you sit back down beside him, the sweet smell washes over him again and he bites the inside of his lip so hard that he tastes blood. The wound disappears as quickly as it’s formed, but the same can’t be said for the erection that begins to strain against the confines of his boxers.
He eyes the pile of small, decorative pillows that you had tossed to the side and wishes that he could grab one to place over his lap.
The words that you’d said to Vanessa a few days ago begin replaying in his mind for the thousandth time since he’d first heard you say them, reminding him this isn’t one-sided. He may be sitting here attempting to conceal a raging hard-on by shifting his position and subtly adjusting his pants, but Logan’s heightened sense of smell tells him that your underwear are probably starting to feel as uncomfortable as his do at the moment.
Without turning his head, he risks a glance at you. Your eyes are on the movie, and your face is neutral, but your posture gives you away. Your arms are crossed over your chest, the tips of your fingernails digging tiny crescent shaped indentations into the flesh of your upper arm. You have one of your thighs crossed over the other, locked together tightly but that doesn’t stop him from being able to smell how fucking wet you are.
“You know, if my sense of smell is as good as my sense of hearing, then I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’re thinking about right now,” Logan starts, his voice low and gruff. He watches from his peripheral vision as you freeze, your form going rigid.
“But I’d really like to hear you say it.”
You turn to him, your eyebrows quirked but your face otherwise impassive.
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. What exactly is it that you’d like to hear me say?” you ask innocently. You give him doe eyes that make his cock finish filling with blood.
He huffs a laugh, picking up on the way that your heartrate accelerates when you look at him.
“I'd like to hear you say what you said to Vanessa a few days ago,” he hums. “I can’t remember exactly, but I think it had something to do with you rubbing your sweet little cunt on my abs. Does that sound familiar to you?”
“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “That doesn’t really sound like something I'd say.”
He knows you’re trying to play it cool, but there’s certain things that you just can’t hide from him – like the way your heart is beating a mile a minute and the way your nipples have pebbled beneath the thin material of your tank top.
“You’re right. It doesn't sound like something you’d say,” he snorts, and leans in so that your face is just a few inches from his. “So imagine my surprise when I walked by your apartment to hear you talking about jumping my adamantium bones.”
He doesn't miss the way your breath catches in your throat or how your eyes flicker to his lips.
“You gonna do it? Or you just gonna keep thinking about it while you're sitting beside me?”
For a second, you say nothing and Logan struggles to read your expression. Then, without taking your eyes off of him, you slowly stand in front of the couch. You reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up.
Logan's mouth goes dry. Suddenly, he's all out of smart remarks.
You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your pajama shorts, pushing them down your thighs along with your panties, and let them both drop to your feet all while holding his gaze.
With you now stark naked before him, he leans forward, grasping you by the backs of your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him, gently pushing him back against the sofa.
He tugs his own shirt over his head while you undo his belt buckle and pop open the top button of his jeans, your hands fumbling when he sheds his shirt.
Logan doesn’t typically think too much about his physical appearance. He knows he’s in good shape, and thinks he’s conventionally attractive enough. But he could see himself getting a bit of an ego, if he had someone looking at him the way you are right now on a regular basis.
You help him shimmy his jeans and boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free. You take him in your hand, using your thumb to smear the thick bead of pre-cum across the head.
“You should be careful listening to people’s conversations outside of their doors,” you hum as you pump him in one hand. You hunch over, lowering your mouth enough to spit down his shaft, lubricating the length. You smirk, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes. “Other people might not react as happily as me.”
Fuck, he knows it’s been a long time since he's even felt anyone’s hands on him, but he feels a little pathetic at the way his balls are already tightening and feeling so heavy just from the way you’re languidly stroking him.
And as much as he’d love for you to keep your hands on him, there’s time for him later. Right now, what he wants more than anything is the feeling of your pussy on him.
He pulls your hand off of him and then tugs you over his erection, trying his hardest to ignore the way the wetness between your legs glides against the tip of his cock, until you’re flat against the hard expanse of his lower stomach.
“This is what you wanted, yeah?” He grunts. You whimper in response, tightening your thighs around his sides and rocking back and forth with the smallest amount of friction. “Don’t be holding back, wanna feel you make a mess on me.”
His words seem to erase any remaining reservation that you may have had. You brace your hands on his chest and begin dragging your center across his lower stomach, your slick coating the thick trail of hair that goes from his belly button to his waistline. With every backstroke, the head of his cock juts against your ass.
You glide across him easily. Soft, wet, and warm, Logan thinks that if you feel this good on his fucking stomach then there’s no way he’ll be able to handle being inside you.
He leans his head forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. You hold his head in your hands, tugging on his hair with your fingers as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth.
He pulls his mouth away from your breast with a wet pop. “You like this? Using me to get yourself off?”
“Mm-hmm,” you nod frantically, your answer coming out as a moan. He gives a quick, firm slap to your other breast. Judging by the sound it draws from you, you like it, so he does it again.
He'd pictured this exact scenario a shameful number of times in the last few days, but his thoughts hadn’t done you justice. Every little noise you make, every little whimper and moan as your clit brushes against the thick bulges of his muscles again and again, sounds sweeter than he could've dreamed.
He places his hands on the meat of your hips, guiding you forwards and backwards across his abdomen at a fast pace.
“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching your thighs around him as tight as you can. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum—”
“That’s right,” he coos. “Come on, cum on me.”
You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, drenching the hair on his stomach as you ride out your orgasm on him with a cry of his name.
You collapse against his chest, going still with your face in the crook of his neck as you steady your breathing.
“Look at me,” he whispers after a moment. It hits him that despite the fact that you just humped him until you came all over his abdomen, he somehow hasn’t even kissed you yet.
You pull away from his neck, looking down at him with a dazed expression. He brings your face to his mouth by the back of your neck. He wastes no more time, instantly slipping his tongue past your lips.
He holds you by the globes of your ass, which hovers just above his erection. You grind down, causing the tip of his cock to nudge against your entrance. He groans into your mouth, his cock past the point of feeling like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t fucking feel you.
“We can stop here,” he murmurs against your lips when he breaks the kiss, even though the thought kills him. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you, touching you, tasting you. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this and the last thing he wants is for it to come to an end. “Don’t have to go any further if you don’t—”
“No,” you exclaim with a breathy laugh. “No, I don’t want to stop. Do you want to stop?”
He grins up at you, taking his length in his hand and teasing it through your folds from below you. He coats the head in your juices before nudging it against your hole.
“Definitely don’t wanna stop, sweetheart.”
You sink down onto him at the same moment that he tilts his hips up enough to slip inside you, causing the entirety of his length to fill you at once.
You both go still, adjusting to the new sensation of each other. Your walls, velvet soft and so warm, constrict around him like a vice. He knows you’re likely tired from riding him through your first orgasm, so he begins thrusting his hips slowly, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.
“You’re big. So, so big,” you moan – something between a whine and a praise.
“I know, but you’re doing so good, honey,” he encourages as he eases himself in and out of you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”
You latch your lips to his again, and it’s hard for him to hold back. The feeling of your tight, perfect cunt around him and the taste of your tongue in his mouth is overwhelming. He wants to memorize every movement, every sound you make.
You snake your hand between your bodies, your fingertips finding your swollen clit and massaging languid circles. He feels you flutter around him as you start meeting his thrusts with movements of your own, and he knows you’re close.
“Not gonna last much longer, honey,” he grunts with a sharp thrust. “Feel too fucking good.”
“Cum with me,” you murmur against his mouth.
Your command causes something in him to snap. He releases a throaty growl, pistoning his hips upwards at a harsh pace as he fills you up from below. You constrict around him, crying his name into his ear as you ride out your climaxes together.
You collapse against his chest once more, his cock still nestled inside you. He loses track of how long the two of you stay like that, neither of you wanting to be the first to move.
“Remind me to eavesdrop on your conversations more often,” he huffs a laugh, still slightly out of breath.
You bring your lips to his, smiling as you give him a light kiss.
“I’ll know if you do. I have a doorbell camera. You didn’t notice that?”
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thank you so much for reading <3 comments and reblogs are super appreciated. here are a few more of my favorite logan pieces that i've written ✨️
for always and ever is always for you - old man logan x healer reader
diet pepsi - old man logan x reader limousine sex
lavender and velvet - worst variant logan x neighbor reader
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thinkinonsense · 2 days ago
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Snapshots |l. howlett| nsfw
A/N: ex-boyfriend!logan, dark!logan, mutant!reader(can slow the momentum of objects/people), 18+ f!reader, angst, smut, situationship with pietro maximoff, outdoor sex, dubious consent (let’s not worry too much about the timeline, just know it is in the x-men universe haha)
You broke up with him again.
Logan tells himself he doesn’t care. You and him have been through this song and dance before - together, apart, rinse and repeat. But now, seeing you and Pietro, the so-called Quicksilver, sharing laughs over some inside joke that Logan will never know, his jaw clenches so tight he hears the crack of his own teeth.
At first, he convinces himself it’s nothing. You’re too smart to fall for someone like that, a show-off with a cocky grin and an ego as fast as his feet. But as days pass, he notices you paired together more often during missions, lingering too close in the common areas, and worst of all, your laugh - the kind that used to be reserved for him.
“Something on your mind, old man?” Pietro smirks one evening, leaning casually against the doorway of the kitchen as Logan is making a sandwich. “You keep looking at me like you’re about to put me six feet under.”
“Wouldn’t take me that long.” Logan growls, not even glancing up from his task.
Pietro laughs, a little too carefree for Logan’s liking. “Relax. Y/N and I are just friends.”
“Friends don’t make eyes at each other like that.” Logan snaps before he can stop himself.
“Eyes?” Pietro raises a brow, then smirks knowingly. “Ah. Got it. You’re jealous.”
The sharp SNIKT of Logan’s claws extending sends Pietro out of the kitchen in a flash, his chuckles echoing behind him, leaving Logan to stew in his own frustration.
Later, when you find Logan alone in the gym, beating the life out of a punching bag, you lean against the doorframe with a familiar smirk tugging at your lips. “Word is you’ve been brooding around the mansion again.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan grunts, fists connecting with the bag in a steady rhythm.
You stride closer, arms crossed, clearly enjoying yourself. “You don’t get to act possessive, Logan. We’re not together anymore.”
Logan stops, the bag swinging back and forth as he turns to face you. “Doesn’t mean I like watchin’ you cozy up to someone like him.”
“Someone like him?” You echo, tilting your head. “You mean someone who doesn’t treat me like a ticking time bomb?”
He steps closer, his voice low. “You think I don’t care, Y/N? ‘Cause I care a hell of a lot more than that speedster does.” Logan pauses, his eyes searching yours. “I just ain’t good at showin’ it.”
Your smirk softens, and for a moment, the two of you are caught in a charged silence. Then you shake your head and step back. “Figure yourself out, Logan. Until then, you don’t get a say in who I spend my time with.” You walk out, leaving Logan with nothing but the faint scent of your perfume and the lingering ache of knowing you’re right.
Late one night, Pietro's fingers trail lazy circles over your bare thigh, his lips brushing against your temple as the soft glow of your camera illuminates the room. You’re curled against him, your body warm and familiar, your focus on the images flashing across the small screen. He watches you with a faint smirk, enjoying the rare softness in your expression.
"You really are obsessed with that thing, huh?" He teases, nudging your leg with his knee.
You hum, scrolling through pictures of him. Some are candid - his crooked grin, the way his silver hair falls into his eyes. Others are more intimate, catching him sprawled across your bed, smirking up at you as if he owns the moment. "You don't seem to mind when it's pointed at you," You fire back, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.
He chuckles, his hand sliding further up your thigh. "Can you blame me? You're capturing my best angles."
Your about to reply when the next image makes you pause. It's an old photo, one of you and Logan. Your breath catches ever so slightly, and Pietro doesn't miss it. His playful demeanor shifts as he cranes his neck to see the screen. The photo is candid - you and Logan caught mid-laugh, your free hand on his chest, his on your waist. There's a closeness in the shot that feels undeniable, even to Pietro.
"Still love him?" He asks, his voice casual but curious.
You don’t answer immediately, your thumb brushing over the edge of the camera. "It's...complicated with Logan.” You says finally, your tone soft but weighted.
Pietro exhales through his nose, leaning back against the pillows. "Complicated. That guy's whole vibe." You glance up at him, a flicker of guilt in your expression, but Pietro's smirk returns as he cups your cheek. "You and me? We don't have to be complicated. We can just...be." His lips brush yours, soft and easy, and you kiss him back, deeper this time, letting the camera slip from your fingers. Your hands slide over his toned chest as you shift onto him, your hair falling around your face as you lean in. Pietro grins up at you, pulling you closer, and before you can protest, he grabs your camera and snaps a picture of you straddling him.
"Pietro!" You laugh, trying to grab it back, but he holds it out of reach, his other hand gripping your hip.
"Hey, fair's fair," He teases. "I've been your muse all night. Time to return the favor."
You’re still laughing when he tosses the camera aside and flips you onto your back, your teasing dissolving into another heated round, uncomplicated and fleeting, but fiery all the same.
One afternoon, Logan leans against the entrance of the Danger Room, arms crossed as he watches you and Pietro spar. He doesn’t announce himself right away, instead letting his gaze flicker between the two of you as you clash - your precision and controlled movements countering Pietro’s speed and cocky unpredictability.
It’s almost funny to watch - the way your power slows him mid-dash, forcing him to adjust on the fly. For a moment, Logan’s almost amused. Almost.
Then Pietro suddenly halts in front of you, his hands finding your waist as the sparring shifts into something far more intimate. Your lips meet his, and Logan’s amusement vanishes, his claws itching to make an appearance.
He clears his throat loudly, the sound sharp and deliberate.
Neither of you flinch.
Pietro’s lips barely leave your before he casts a glance over his shoulder, that trademark smirk firmly in place. “Oh hey, old man. Didn’t see you there.”
Logan’s jaw tightens, and his voice drops to a low growl. “Doesn’t look like much training going on.”
Pietro shrugs, still grinning, and leans back in for another kiss, but you stop him and take his hand, leading him towards the exit as you tilt your head toward the door. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” You say, not taking your eye off Logan until you pass by him.
Logan straightens, his arms falling to his sides, hands balling into fists. “Don’t stop on my account.” He says dryly, though his tone makes it clear he’d very much like for you to stop.
Pietro, ever the smartass, winks at him on his way out, his arm slung casually around your shoulders. “See you around, Logan.”
The sound of Logan’s claws extending echoes through the room, but he doesn’t move. Not yet. Instead, he glares after the speedster, his chest tight with a mixture of anger and something far more complicated. He mutters under his breath as you disappear, his voice gruff and bitter. “Kid’s got no idea how close he came to losin’ those damn legs.”
Late at night, Logan sits in his room, a glass of whiskey in hand as he stares at his phone. He shouldn’t text you. Hell, he knows he shouldn’t. But the thought of you with him - the way you laughed, the way you touched him - eats away at his resolve. With a frustrated sigh, he types out a message.
Logan: I miss you.
Logan: I miss your smart mouth, the way you used to laugh when you got under my skin.
Logan: I miss how you smell. Still in my damn sheets, Y/N.
It takes a minute before your reply comes in, and when it does, it’s not what he expects.
It's a picture.
You in bed, your hair mussed, your lips curved into a playful smile. Pietro is asleep beside you, shirtless, his arm draped casually over your bare waist. The text that follows twists the knife in Logan's chest.
You: I’m with him. We're not getting back together.
Logan stares at the image, his grip tightening on the phone. He could leave it at that. He should leave it at that. But when it comes to you, he's never been good at restraint.
Logan: You're not doing a great job convincing me. You're still texting me back.
Logan: Guess that means you're thinking about me.
He sends it, letting the whiskey embolden him. When your reply comes, it's teasing but sharp, just like you.
You: Maybe I'm just bored.
He huffs a dry laugh, already typing out his next response.
Logan: Yeah? You bored with him, princess? Are you bored enough to talk about how much I wanna put my mouth on you right now?
Logan: 'Cause l'd make damn sure you weren't thinking about him for a second longer.
There's a pause this time, and for a moment, he wonders if he's pushed too far.
Then your response comes in.
You: That's inappropriate, Logan.
His smirk is instant.
Logan: Is it? Doesn't seem like you hate it.
To drive the point home, he snaps a picture - evidence of how much the exchange has affected him. His abs visible, his hand teasingly low, and the unmistakable outline of his erection beneath the sheets. He sends it without hesitation.
Logan: See what you do to me, princess?
Your reply takes longer this time, but when it comes, it's exactly what he expects.
Yana: You're ridiculous.
He can almost hear your laugh as he reads it.
Logan: And yet, you're still here.
You: You're lucky I find your cocky side entertaining.
Logan grins, leaning back against the headboard, his confidence surging.
Logan: You don't just find it entertaining, darling. You like it. And you know where to find me when you're done playing with the kid.
You don’t respond right away, and he knows better than to expect you to admit it. But he can tell, even through the screen, that he's in your head now. And as much as you want to push him away, you’re still letting him in.
The smell of fresh coffee fills the kitchen as you lean against the counter, one hand curled around your mug. You hear him before you see him - the heavy tread of his boots, the low grunt of acknowledgment as he steps inside.
“Mornin’, darlin’.” Logan greets, his voice gruff and warm, but there’s a teasing edge to it that makes your pulse quicken. He stops beside you, leaning casually against the counter, his sharp eyes fixed on you.
You don’t look up, pretending to focus on your coffee. “Morning.”
Logan isn’t one to be ignored. He moves closer, his body brushing yours as he rests his hands flat on the counter, one on either side of you. He leans in, his lips just brushing the shell of your ear. “You didn’t tell me what you thought of that picture I sent you.”
You snort softly, taking another sip of coffee to hide the way your breath hitches. “Didn’t seem like it needed a response.”
Logan chuckles low, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your back. “Is that right? Figured you’d at least tell me how much you liked it.”
You hate how his smooth-talking always gets to you, how his deep voice and the heat of his body so close make your knees feel like jelly. When his lips press against the back of your neck, slow and deliberate, your grip on the mug tightens. “Logan.” You warn, though your voice lacks conviction.
“Yeah?” His hand slides up, skimming over your stomach beneath your shirt, his touch rough and familiar. “How much longer you gonna punish me, huh? You’ve made your point, princess.”
You swallow hard, your free hand snapping up to push his away before he can go further. You turn around, placing the mug on the counter with unnecessary force. “We’re done, Logan.”
He stays close, his eyes locked on yours, intense and unrelenting. “Are we?”
“Yes.” You insist, though the wavering in your voice betrays you.
Logan tilts his head, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “You sure about that? ‘Cause you don’t push me away until it’s already too much. And even then, I see the way you look at me.”
“Logan.” Your tone sharpens, your resolve hardening. “It’s over. You need to move on.”
His expression shifts, the teasing fading as he studies you, his voice softer now. “You love him? Pietro?”
You hesitate for a fraction of a second before answering. “That doesn’t matter.”
Logan’s jaw tightens, his hands falling to his sides. “The hell it doesn’t.”
You straighten, arms crossing over your chest. “What matters is that you and I don’t work. We fight more than we talk, Logan. We’re not good for each other.”
His eyes bore into yours, raw and unyielding. “Maybe not, but don’t pretend this thing between us is just gonna disappear.”
Your breath hitches again, and you hate that he can still get under your skin so easily. “We’re not getting back together.” You say firmly, stepping around him and walking out of the kitchen, your head held high.
Logan watches you go, his fists clenching at his sides as he fights the urge to go after you. The scent of your perfume lingers in the air, and it only makes him want you more. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He mutters to himself, his voice low and determined.
The late afternoon sun filters through the leaves of the tree, casting dappled light over you and Pietro. You kneel in front of him, camera in hand, grinning as you adjusts the lens.
“Come on,” You tease, “Show me some muscle, Pietro. Let me see what you’ve got.”
Pietro smirks, ever the performer, flexing dramatically and earning a laugh from you. But the sound of your laughter, the way your dress clings to your legs as you shift on the grass, pulls his focus entirely. In a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and tugs you into his lap, his lips brushing your neck as he murmurs, “Forget the pictures for a minute, huh?”
“Pietro,” You protests softly, glancing around nervously. “We’re outside. Someone could see - ”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” He promises, his hand already slipping under the hem of your dress. “I promise, no one’s coming.”
His playful confidence breaks through your hesitation, and soon enough, your resolve crumbles. His lips murmur compliments along your neck as he unbuckles his belt and you lift yourself on your knees so you can sink down onto his thick cock. Pietro shudders subtly as your warmth wraps around him, his hands smoothing out the skirt of your dress. You’re moving against his lap, gasping as his hands guide your hips. Pietro presses his lips to your ear, whispering praises, telling you how beautiful you look, how perfect you feel.
“Pietro…” You moan softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his hair as he bites softly on your neck while you ride him slow and steady, taking your time.
Neither of you notice the figure standing at the window inside the school.
Logan watches, his teeth clenched, his hands gripping the windowsill so tightly it groans under the strain. His heightened senses pick up every sound, every gasp and whispered word. It burns, and though he tells himself to turn away, he can’t. The image of them together sears itself into his mind, feeding a fire he’s been trying to tamp down for weeks.
A few nights later, once everyone has gone to sleep, Logan waits until the mansion is quiet. He knows it’s reckless, knows he should leave you alone, but the memory of your soft gasps and flushed skin won’t let him. He slips into your room without a sound, the door clicking shut behind him. The anger and tension finally boiled over within him and he simply had to get you back. You stir in your bed, sitting up abruptly when you realize you’re no longer alone.
“Logan…” You starts, your voice sharp, but he’s already moving toward you.
“Don’t,” He murmurs, his voice low and rough. “Don’t tell me to leave. I can’t.”
Before you can protest, his mouth is on yours, demanding and hungry. His hands grip your waist, pulling you against him as he kisses you deeply, like he’s trying to erase the memory of anyone else. You twist away, your hands pushing weakly at his chest. “Stop,” You say, though your voice falters. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you anymore.”
Logan freezes for half a second, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t lie to me,” He growls softly, his lips moving to your jaw, your neck. “You don’t want me, but you can’t stop letting me in. Can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”
“Logan…” Your voice is breathless now, the fight slipping from you with every kiss, every touch.
“Say it,” He whispers, his mouth trailing lower, his hands finding the soft skin beneath your shirt. “Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll leave. But you can’t, can you?”
Your resolve crumbles as his hands and lips overwhelm you, the heat of his body pressing into yours, the familiarity of him consuming you. “I hate you.” You murmur, though it sounds more like a plea than a declaration.
Logan smirks against your hip. “Yeah, but you don’t want me to stop, do you?”
You don’t answer, not with words, but the way your fingers clutch at his shirt, the way your body arches into his touch, tells him everything he needs to know. You don’t even notice the way your legs spread for him as he kisses the top of your thighs. Logan pulls your panties aside, inhaling the scent of your cunt before licking a long stripe over your slit. Your body shudders at the sensation and one of your hands finds it way into his hair while you muffle yourself with your palm. Logan pushes your thighs further apart and he spits on your clit before sucking it into his mouth, nipping lightly which pulls a soft laugh out of you.
By the time he finally pulls you beneath him, you’re whispering the words he’s been dying to hear. “I want you, Logan. I always want you.”
It’s all the permission he needs.
The room is dark, the faint glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains as Logan’s hand moves over your body with practiced confidence. His hips are driving slow and harsh into yours, making you feel every inch of his hard cock dragging against the fluttering walls of your narrow hole. His lips are at your ear, voice low and teasing, every word designed to unravel you. “Can’t ever get enough of me, can you?” He murmurs, nipping at your earlobe. “No matter how many times you say you’re done, you’re always right back here.”
You shudder under his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders as you shake your head weakly. “That’s not true.” You whisper, though the breathy tone betrays you.
Logan chuckles, the sound deep and rough, vibrating through your chest, his thrusts never faltering in their steady rhythm. “No? Then why are you holding onto me like you’re scared I’ll let you go?” He trails kisses down your neck, his hand sliding lower, his grip firm and possessive on your thigh as he hitches it onto his waist. Your protests fade into soft gasps, your body arching into his touch. Logan smirks, leaning in close. “Bet Pietro doesn’t make you feel like this,” He taunts, his lips brushing against yours. “Bet he doesn’t fuck you so good you forget how to breathe.” Your cheeks flush, your grasp on him tightening, but you don’t answer. Logan takes your silence as confirmation, his confidence surging. “You’re shaking for me. Is it that good?” He teases, kissing the top of your head and resting his cheek on your forehead, his cock pounding into you like a punishment.
And then his gaze falls on your camera sitting on the nightstand, and an idea sparks. “Hold on, darlin’.” He mutters, reaching for it. You stir, reaching for him as his warm, heavy body moves slightly away from you, watching him with wide eyes as he powers it on.
“Logan,” You start, your voice barely above a whisper, “What are you doing?”
He settles on his knees, his cock still throbbing inside your aching pussy, his free hand cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes over your lips. “Relax,” He says with a smirk. “Just a little keepsake. Open up for me.” Your hesitation lasts only a second before you part your lips, your body responding to him without question. Logan slips his thumb into your mouth, his gaze darkening as you obediently suck on it, your cheeks hollowing and your lips swollen. “Good girl,” He murmurs, raising the camera and snapping a picture. He pulls the camera back, checking the image with a satisfied grin. “That one’s for Pietro,” He says smugly, his tone laced with amusement. Your eyes widen, your cheeks burning, but before you can respond, Logan thrusts more forcefully into you, sliding a hand lower along your trembling body until his thumb is circling your clit, accompanying the intense plows of his cock.
Almost immediately, Logan coax you closer to the edge. Your head falls back, your breath hitching as his touch drives you higher, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure. Logan watches you intently, his free hand raising the camera once more. “And this one,” He says, his voice softer now, almost reverent, “This one’s for me.” He snaps the picture just as you reach your peak, capturing the way you body trembles, the way your face twists with pure ecstasy. Lowering the camera, Logan sets it aside, leaning down to kiss you deeply. “That’s the look I live for,” He murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with possessive pride as he settles back over you, chasing his own release within the confines of your wet, tight pussy clenching around him. “No one else gets to see you like this, princess. Just me.”
And in that moment, you can’t bring yourself to deny him.
I have been daydreaming about Aaron Taylor-Johnson after watching Kraven the Hunter🤭 Him and Hugh paired together?? My, my, my🫠
🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened @craziersarah98 @xxvendettaxx @chronicallybubbly @throwmethroughawindow @ethanhoewke @steviebbboi @littlemissoblivious @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @ashlinxsloves @lexasaurs634 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @bananababblegigglemuffin @zaggprincess2 @xoxabs88xox @lokixryss @th3mrskory
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thinkinonsense · 4 days ago
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Touchཐིཋྀ
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origins!logan howlett x fem!reader x black widow!natasha romanoff
cw: mdni!! oral (f+f), strap-on sex, fingering, squirting, doggy style, p in v, angst, some fluff, angsttt, dom!nat & dom!logan x sub!reader
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after a life of running and living in fear of an impending doom, you and logan had finally managed to build a peaceful life together. deep in the woods sat a wooden cabin where the two of you spent most of your days.
during the week, logan worked down at the lumberyard while you taught ballet to a group of young girls downtown. your boyfriend didn't know much of your past, just that you were tested on and abused back in russia. he never pressured you to talk about the past, his wasn't any better either.
buried in the back of your closet hid a box of belongings from russia. there weren't many things you valued from that time there but you did manage to take some photos of the girls you were friends with, a few journal, and an old pager given to you by someone you no longer knew. her face was everywhere but she never bothered to reach out again after escaping the red room.
"i'll see you later, honey." logan whispered as he kissed your cheek then left the bedroom.
half asleep still, you mumble a goodbye before your head hit the pillow again for the next couple of hours. you didn't have a class today but instead planned on going to town and getting groceries for the week.
it's a little after one when you finally jump in the shower, listing all the things you needed to buy and what you wanted to make for dinner. while picking out an outfit, you hear a faint vibration. logan kept your toys under the bed so, you knew that wasn't where the noise was coming from.
it could be?
inside the box, you can see the familiar number flash. hesitantly, you walk over to the phone and dial. pacing back and forth on the wooden floor, waiting for an answer.
"эй, принцесса."
hey, princess
you knew that voice like the back of your hand but you still couldn't believe it.
"natalia." your accent came out thick and heavy. she should've expected you to be upset still.
it's been everywhere. the news of the sokovia accords and the freeing of the winter soldier. you were keeping up with the news but not too closely. it was irritating watching natasha get to play super hero with the likes of iron man and captain america when you knew the truth.
"can we talk? i need a favor." she sounded desperate.
"i don't think that's a good idea." you sigh, unable to come up with a good excuse.
"c'mon, for old times sake?"
you hesitate. of course you missed her, how could you not? despite the red room being the worst time of your life, natalia was the daylight that kept you going.
"you don't even know where i am."
"look out your kitchen window."
pulling back the curtain, there she stood on your porch. long red hair just like you remembered, a small suite case next to her and a pair of black sunglasses covering her eyes. you hang up the phone and grab a kitchen knife from the counter; moving closer to the door.
"how did you find me?" you squint, feeling somewhere between anger and impressed.
"an old friend owed me a favor." she shrugs. "i didn't picture you as a living among the trees type of girl. you know, it quite dangerous to live alone in the woods."
"i can take care of myself" you remind her before adding, "and i don't live alone."
natasha's face falls a little. if you didn't know her as well as you did, you never would've been able to tell. she had a million questions but wasn't sure if she wanted the answers.
"what was the favor you needed?" you ask, trying to change the subject.
"i need a place to lay low for a bit."
was it horrible that you had to remind yourself that you are with logan now? now you love logan more than anything but you would be lying if you said natasha didn't hold a special place in your heart still.
"no games, nat." you put on your best poker face, knowing she could see right through you.
"even though i do miss playing with you," her lips linger closely to yours. sharing the same air. "i promise, no games."
"good. there's a guest room inside."
the two of you enter the house again and you show her the extra room. it's not very decorated, simply and neat. natasha didn't mind, she was just thankful you hadn't tried to fight her once you saw her again.
"so, who's the lucky lady that managed to tie you down?" nat chuckles to herself as she unpacks her things.
"his name is logan." you answer nervously.
why were you nervous? you didn't owe her anything, especially after the way she left you.
natasha felt the knife in her chest twist at the news. not only had you moved on but you were sickly in love. maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
a car door slams shut, snapping both of you back into reality.
"i'll be back. there's towels under the sink if you want to take a shower." you linger in the door way, waiting for her to turn and catch a glimpse of you before you leave.
"thanks, принцесса."
she doesn't even look up at you.
⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒
logan could smell trouble miles away. the blood soaked in her jacket. the faint smell of her sweat and your cherry perfume. he assumed you were in trouble, maybe someone broke in or lured you out of the house to attack you. within seconds, he was back in his truck to check up on you.
"hey, honey." you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.
"hey... are you... are you alright?" he struggled to get out in between kisses.
"mhm, i was thinking we could go for a drive." you were talking too fast, trying to distract him from whatever was inside.
"what's going on, sweetheart?" one of his brows arched, waiting for the truth.
both of you climb into the truck but logan never starts the car. instead he listens to the rapid beating of your heart.
"there's something—someone, from my past that's inside. she needed a place to lay low for a little bit."
logan could tell by your lack of eye contact that there was something you were still hiding something about this friend of yours.
"I won't be upset." he saying lovingly, reaching for your hand.
"when i was in the red room, i worked closely with a woman that i also was in a relationship with at the time."
logan wasn't sure why you were nervous to tell him this? he knew you liked women as well and he wasn't threatened by it. sure, is it a bit odd that your ex was coming here to hide out? defintely but logan of all people should know what it's like to be in need of somewhere to hide out.
"it was more than just physical. she meant a lot to me until..." you debated on telling him more but still on the fence.
"until?" he tests the waters.
"dreykov sent me to budapest. she never looked for me." on the verge of tears, you bite down on your tongue. "it killed me because not only did she leave me but she abandoned all the other girls that were stuck in the red room."
logan pulls you into his chest, stroking your hair gently, letting you know that it's okay to cry. your brain didn't get the memo because nothing came out.
"you don't have to let her stay here if it's too much for you." he reminds you.
"i know. i'm just not sure if i can handle her leaving again."
"must've really loved her, huh, princess?"
you nod softly into his chest.
"i don't mind if she stays but if you don't want her too, that's fine too." he says. "just want you to be happy."
in times like these, it hits you just how lucky you are to be with someone like logan. someone so understanding and loving. he knew the pain you went through all those years ago and how deep the connection with the woman inside must be. you can't survive that level of abuse without something keeping you going. for you, that something was natasha.
⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒
inside the house, natasha watched you and logan out in the car. slightly intimidated by your boyfriends stature and entirely jealous of his arms wrapped around you. she had to remind herself that you were practically a stranger to her now. so much has changed over the years and neither of you were the same girls from the red room anymore.
when she saw the two of you exiting the car, she rushed back into the guest room. in the tiny hallway, she noticed the picture frames on the wall. there's a photo of a group of young ballerinas and yourself. natasha wonders if that's how you keep yourself connected to your past life.
next to your picture is your boyfriend -whatever his name was- and some of his friends outside of a fancy looking school. natasha tried to pay little attention to it on her way back to the room.
ten minutes pass before there's a soft knock on the door.
"come in." natasha calls out, turning off the television.
from behind the door, you appear with a plate and a glass in your hands. the smile on her lips, drops the moment she sees him at your tail.
"thought you might be hungry." you explain, handing her the sandwich you made for her
"isn't that sweet of you to think of me," she teases, watching the way your cheeks flush with color at her words.
logan leans against the door frame while you sit on the bed with natasha. he watched as you completely bewitched the red headed woman in front of you. she was practically hanging onto every word you said. he couldn't blame her though, you have the same effect on him.
"you must be 'lucky logan' ?"natasha cocks her head at the man behind you.
"guess so." he smirks, admiring the doe eyes you give him.
"hm, and you're okay with me staying here?" she asks.
"that's not up to me." logan shrugs.
natasha's green eyes shift over to your face, waiting for you to say something.
"i want you here, nat." you admit.
her heart flutters in her chest. she knew she didn't deserve a second chance and would leave if you asked her too but god, was she grateful that you still wanted her to be here.
"i don't deserve you, принцесса." she says softly, finding it hard to mask her feelings anymore.
"shhh..." you tell her. "just get some rest."
natasha actually listens to you, finishing her sandwich and crawling under the soft comforter. you reach for the empty plate and she stops you before you could walk away; placing a soft kiss on the inside of your palm. the tiny gasp that left your mouth didn't sneak past either of them in the room. once she let you go, you and logan exit the room and go into your own shared bedroom.
logan watched you pace back and forth, wiping her kiss mark off on your blue jeans. it pulled at his heart strings to see you so torn by natasha's presence. tears fall down your face like rain.
"don't cry, sweetheart." logan says, wrapping his arms around you.
"i'm s-sorry, lo..." you apologize, upset at yourself for still harvesting these feelings towards natasha.
"for what?" he asks, lifting up your chin to look at him.
"i love you so much." you blurt out, too afraid to say what you really wanted to.
"i know. i love you too." he smiles, bending down to give you a quick kiss then adding, "and i know you love her too."
"it's not–"
"it's okay." he assures you. "i'm not upset."
"you aren't?" you question, prepared for him to storm out and want nothing to do with you ever again.
"no."
without thinking, you completely collapse into his arms, so thankful for the man in front of you.
"i don't deserve you, logan." you whisper, kissing him gently.
"don't say that." he says sternly. "i'm just trying to give you everything you want in life."
⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒
hours later, natasha woke up. she could smell faint tobacco from somewhere in the house. it was enough to get her out of bed to see where it was coming from. in the living room, she found logan on the couch watching a western and smoking a cigar with his boots up on the coffee table. he didn't have to turn around to know that nat was there.
"she went to the grocery store to get something for dinner." he says nonchalantly answering the question in your head.
natasha hummed in response, keeping a distance from logan in case he decides to do something rash like fight her.
"you can sit down, you know?" he chuckles, blowing the smoke from his mouth. "i'm not gonna attack you or anything."
"i wouldn't blame you if you did." she remarks, picking the single chair in the living room to sit down at.
"the only way i would do that is if you decide to hurt her again." he states frankly, eyes glued to the television screen.
"i suppose that's fair; but i don't plan on it."
"good. she's practically a damn saint."
natasha smiles a little at his words.
"yeah, she is." she says. “i wish i hadn’t left her the way that i did but there wasn’t much choice in the matter.”
“why did you leave her there?”
“dreykov found out about us. he threatened to have her sold off somewhere to someone who would probably kill her or worse.” natasha’s voice was tiny for once. painfully reminding her of the past she tried to burry. “thought i made it easier by leaving. she doesn’t know it but i did try to go back for her. twice actually. once by myself and another time with my friend, clint. the first time, she didn’t recognize me. the second time, he ordered her to kill me. barely made it out alive."
logan remembered how after a couple of months dating, you opened up about your memory issues. constantly feeling like you were missing a piece of the puzzle that was your life from all the experiments. it’s one of the things that helped you two connect with each other.
“i’ve seen her kill with her bare hands. seen her tied to tables with needles injected into her until she was blue in the face and spitting up blood. she was one of his favorite’s. used to wake up to her screaming from the nightmares.”
“she still gets them sometimes.” logan mutters.
nastasha nods, wiping a tear away quickly.
“do you think she will ever forgive me?”
“i think so.”
“do you think i deserve it?”
“probably not,” he said honestly with a shrug. “but that’s not up to me.”
natasha appreciated his candor at least.
“she’s back.” logan said before she could even hear the car approaching.
logan got up to help you bring in the bags. once both of you are inside, you spot nat sitting in the living room awake.
"hey, whatcha doin’ awake already?” you ask.
"i haven’t been awake long.” she answers, getting up and joining you in the kitchen.
“i’m making pasta, hope that’s alright with you?”
“of course. want some help?”
you instruct her to boil the noodles while you prepare the sauce. the two of you stand close next to each other as nat watches over your shoulder.
"have you heard from yelena lately?" you ask, making small talk.
"no." nat's voice came out a whisper. "have you?"
"mhm." you hum, stirring the sauce. "she called a month ago, asked what i knew about these red vitals she was given."
"vitals?"
"yeah, i told her my memory isn't as good as it used to be."
natasha reaches over and lightly touches your ponytail, twirling the ends around her fingers to help ease you. that’s how she used to calm you down as teenagers, by playing with your hair. deep down you knew you shouldn’t look at her, not this close anyways. nat could smell your cherry perfume, over powering her senses. her plump lips tempted you, sending an ache down to your lower region. she watches you intensely, waiting for you to make a move and wanting you more than ever.
unbeknownst to either of you, logan knew what was going on. he could smell the need forming in your underwear, could practically hear natasha’s dirty thoughts about you. most boyfriends would feel threatened by this but logan was different. he worshipped the ground you walked on and he always valued your happiness. why would he deny you of the love you deserved?
"i-i'm gonna go grab some wine from the cellar." you stutter, leaving her there alone.
nat nods, walking back into the living room to breathe.
"you can kiss her, if she wants you too." logan says aloud, tapping off the end of his cigar on the ashtray next to him.
"you aren't just saying that so then you would have an excuse to try and kill me, are you?" she squints.
"she won't make the first move. too afraid that she'll hurt me." he replied, ignoring natasha's comment.
"you wouldn't care?" she questions.
"no."
"what if i wanted to do more than kiss her?"
"its up to her."
logan watches natasha's eyes cloud with lust at the thought. how could he fault her? you were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen in all 200+ years of his life. plus he would be lying in he said that he wouldn't find it hot to see you and natasha going at it.
"hey, is red okay?" you ask, holding a bottle up as you rounded the corner.
both logan and nat looked at you with these hungry looking eyes like you were their prey. logan's nostrils flare a little at the sweet scent.
"r-reds fine." nat stutters, her throat was dry at the thought of being back in between your thighs.
"cool, i'll get the glasses."
as you turn to leave, logan calls after you, "can you bring me a beer, sweetheart?"
"of course" you nod, obediently.
when you return, the three of you sit and watch the western playing for a few minutes until logan huffs loudly, sick of this tension and neither of you two doing anything about it.
"are you two gonna kiss 'n make up already, or what?" logan teases.
natasha and you find each others blown out gaze. both of you needed this. needing closure.
"fuck it." natasha mumbles to herself, getting up and coming over to you.
the redhead straddles you on the couch, caressing your jaw in her delicate palm. you nod your head, letting her know that you wanted this as much as she did. from her first taste of you, she knew it would be impossible to pull away.
⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒
nat chases your plump kiss bitten red lips, backing you up until your legs hit the edge of the bed. your hands are up her shirt and under her bra, squeezing the soft flesh of her tits. rubbing your thumb over the blooming bud and listening to her pretty moans against your lips. she lays you down and strips herself of her clothes. you rush to do the same, wiggling out of your jeans.
behind nat, you see logan walk in with his beer in his hand and take a seat across from you in the corner. knowing that he's watching sent shivers down your spine. it wasn't until natasha grabbed your chin and squished your cheeks together that you realized you had been staring at logan.
"it's not his turn, it's mine." she taunts.
you nod your head and babble out an apology. she removes her grip on you only to lay down in between your thighs. a sight that you missed dearly.
"natty, please don't tease." you whine, arching at the soft kisses she trails inside of your thighs and hip bones, avoiding where you needed her most.
she smiles at the fact that your already shaking with anticipation. surprisingly, she looks over at logan.
"keep her legs spread for me, would ya'?" she asks.
he nods, already hard in his blue jeans. logan joins you two on the bed, sitting behind you and letting you rest comfortable against his chest. he places your legs over his to keep you open for natasha. she groans, sucking a dark plum bruise on your hipbone. meanwhile, logan's leaving similar marks on your neck and along your shoulder.
"please." you whine, wiggling your hips in her face. both natasha and logan can smell your arousal in the air. it's intoxicating.
"patients, baby." she scolds before licking a fat stripe over your clothed cunt.
"w-wanna feel you nat."
without hesitation, natasha tears the lacy material from your body and spreads you open. it's been years since she had last seen you in this position. she needs a moment to capture your angelic imagine.
"there's my girl." nat says, talking to your cunt. completely ignoring you and logan like you two aren't even in the room.
"isn't she a fuckin sight?" logan finally speaks up.
right as you open your mouth to beg her to do something, anything, she leaning in again to lick from your entrance up to your button.
"missed this pussy, принцесса..." nat says sloppily into your folds. "so wet for me."
"uh-uh." you moan, throwing your head back.
logan turns your chin to capture your lips, letting you moan freely into his mouth while his hands come up to massage your tits. fingers pinching and rolling the stiff buds in his palms.
natasha spends a while making out with your cunt; taking her time to savor the honey that pours from inside of you. she pulls back for a second to spit on your mound, letting it drip down before inserting her middle and ring finger. hers weren't nearly as thick as logan's but they are longer and still feel perfect in their own way. she watches how you and logan move together while she pumps in and out of you. for once, she didn't feel jealous of logan for having you. instead it made her heart swell to know that someone else loves you just as much as she does.
despite all the pleasure you felt, selfishly you wanted more. your right hand moves to intertwine itself into nat's red locks, pulling her head back to where you needed her most. her tongue swirled circles over your swollen bud, teasing it playfully. her fingers move faster inside of you as she grinds her clothed cunt against the mattress, moaning against your folds.
"ya' feel good, sweetheart?" logan asks, placing a soft kiss on your hairline.
"sooo good, lo." you purr, gazing up at him with doe eyes.
his low chuckle makes you clench down had on natasha's fingers. all that can be heard in the room are low moans and wet squelching noises. nat kitten licks your button until you reach your first high of the night.
too caught in euphoria to control your legs wrapping around her neck, squeezing her head with your thighs. your loud moans were barely audible to her at this moment. the red head could die happily right here, right now.
carefully, she pulls off of you.
"you did so good for me, принцесса." she praises, stroking your thighs.
as soon as natasha sits up, you reach out and kiss her, tasting yourself on her plump maroon lips. she melts into the kiss making it easy for you to flip her over on her back. logan gets up again, unbuckling his belt as he watches the two of you grind on each other in messy, uncoordinated movements.
"wish you could fuck me like old times, nat." you mumble, kissing her chest and leaving little love bites behind.
"i-i could..." she hesitates.
already ahead of her, logan's rummaging through her backpack and hold up a familiar contraption.
"lookin' for this, red?" he smirks, tossing the strap-on onto the bed next to her.
the last time nat wanted either of you two think is that she just dropped by to fuck you and leave but what can she say? she's prepared for anything.
"is this alright with you, pretty girl?" she asks you in between lightly nibbling on your pulse point while you grind your cunt against the soft skin of her abs.
natasha pulls back to look at you. her hand cradles your jaw, waiting for your answer.
"i need it natty." you nod. "need you inside of me."
those words make her blue eyes turn a stormy dark grey. in a rush, she puts it on and lets you line yourself up to the silicone. despite all the time apart, the two of you fell back into a seamless rhythm together. one of her hands rests on your hip, helping you move up and down while the other paws at your chest, rolling the stiff bud.
"uh-fuck." you whine, throwing your head back when she angles her hips up with a sharp snap.
"that's the spot, huh?" she smirks, watching your pretty face scrunch up as you try and focus.
weakly, you nod your head and babble something incoherent to both hers and logan's ears. it's not the same feeling that logan gives you obviously but the way natasha's fucking up into you makes you feel just as good.
logan makes his way over to you, palming his boxer covered cock as he leans down to make out with you. willingly, giving in as his tongue explores your mouth messily with a hand in your hair. natasha uses this to her advantage, bringing her thumb up to your clit and circle it slowly in contrast to the jolts of her hips hitting yours. logan swallows every little moan that spills from your plump lips.
" 'm so close, natty." you whimper, tears in your waterline as logan's sucks on your pulse point.
"is that so, baby?" she mocks with a light roll of her hips.
"d-don't stop, please." you beg, bouncing faster to chase your high.
natasha and logan were both wishing that they could feel you clenching around them instead of the silicone.
logan's big rough hands help you bounce in rhythm as soon as he sees your movements slow down.
"c'mon, princess." logan groans in your ear. "we wanna see you fall apart for us."
"cum for us, sweet girl." natasha purrs, sitting up to suck on your tit and picking up speed with her thumb.
that's all it takes for you to release on top of nat, hips shaking violently while you leaked all over her lap. eyes screwed shut, stars coming into vision as you try to calm yourself down again. it just felt so good to feel the contrasts between her and logan when they fuck you.
carefully, logan picks you up off of natasha's strap. she takes it off and throws it aside, watching logan help you recover.
"don't ya' think natasha deserves something too for how good she's made you feel, princess?" logan asks you.
"mhm." you nod, crawling in between her legs. "wanna thank you properly, natty."
natasha thinks she might cum just from looking at your big doe eyes in between her thighs. you play flat on your stomach, kissing the plush soft skin. her hips wiggle impatiently in your face. the sweet smell of her arousal reminded you of all the other intimate moments the two of you have shared. within seconds, you're ripping off her lacy black panties and tossing them somewhere to the side of the bed.
"so fuckin' pretty 'n so wet." you mumble to yourself as you pull her fold apart, watching her slick drip from her entrance. "is this all for me?"
"o-only for you, baby." she says with a shaky breath.
you lean forward licking a strip from her entrance to her button. your hands wrap under her thighs and pull her tight against your face, letting her use you however she wanted. natasha grinds down on your tongue, moaning when your nose occasionally bumping her clit. she taste sweeter than any other times you've buried your tongue inside of her.
"love how good your tongue feels, baby." she moans, brushing your hair out of your face.
mind fully focused on nat that you don't even register logan shifting around behind you, running his tip up and down your pussy. lightly slapping your clit before thrusting inside of you. his cock stretches you deliciously, making you moan against natasha's cunt. her fingers pulls a bit at your hair from the vibrations. it's always a struggle to get him to fit inside of you.
"tightest pussy in the fuckin' world, i swear." he mumbles to himself, watching you swallow him whole.
logan's thrusts start to increase as he paws at the flesh of your ass. his tip kisses your cervix repeatedly, making it hard for you to keep your mouth around nat. your forehead pressed against her thigh while you try to concentrate, licking your fingers and inserting them into natasha's tight warm cunt.
"fuck!" nat moans, clenching around your two fingers as they reach that spongey spot deep inside of her. "faster, принцесса. wanna cum for you."
her dirty words sent you into a frenzy. using all of your strength left to make her gush. the noises were so lewd it made your head spin. her back arches and soft moans fall from her lips as she tugs on your hair. like a faucet, she's leaking all over your hand, your face, and down on yours and logan's shared sheets.
behind you, logan is too busy trying not to cum inside of you too soon. he's gripping your hips so hard you know that there will be bruising left behind. every now and then you can hear him grunting and smack the fat of your ass, watching as it bounces back at him. the pleasure builds in your tummy. logan's hand snakes under you to rub at your clit.
"f-faster, lo." you whimper, lifting your mouth off of natasha for a second.
"i gotcha, princess." he groans, doing so.
within seconds, you release all over him. the string of moans vibrate against nat's core, overstimulating her until she cums again, soaking your face entirely. logan doesn't last much longer either. he paints your walls white and keeps you stuffed with his cum, only pulling out when it starts to sting a little.
the three of you are quiet for a moment, needing time to recover. who would've thought that two russia assassins and a mutant would need time to recover from anything, let alone sex.
logan's the first to move, going to bring towels and some water. you rest your head on natasha's stomach, she runs her nails against your scalp the same way she would when you woke up from nightmares. a tear rolls down your cheek, thinking about her running away again.
"what's wrong, принцесса?" she whispers, hearing you soft cry.
"just dreading you leaving again." you mutter, afraid to look up at her.
"hey, i'll be here as long as you want me here." she says, lifting your chin up.
"tasha, someone needs to save those girls. dreykov won't stop until someone comes after him."
there's a long pause of silence before she says anything again. her eyes glued to the ceiling, trying not to cry.
"you know, i used to picture a simple life for the two of us. something similar to this actually, minus the grumpy looking man in the kitchen. i wanted to give you a piece of normalcy but i kept running away, afraid i was the one putting you in harms way." she sighs shakily. "i shouldn't have ran. i should've come back. there's so much i couldn't give you but i see that logan can do that for you."
"look, i love logan more than anything but why can't we make it work too?" your question makes both natasha and logan pause, as he returns into the bedroom.
natasha looks up at logan, ready for him to finally yell and kick her out. especially now that she's coming between the two of you. instead he's looking over at you with a spark of love in his gaze.
"i don't think logan would appreciate sharing you full time." she says, avoiding your wide eyed stare.
"i just want my girl to be happy." he responds, lighting another cigar. "think she would be happier with both of us, red."
the time has never been right for you and natasha but who says it needs to be? she's finally back in your life again and you can't risk letting her go again.
"we will help you track down yelena and fight with you to free those girls from the redroom but i want you here with us, natty. please don't go again."
she finally looks down at you and her heart melts. how would she be able to leave you again? not after today. this is where her heart lied, here with you.
"of course, i'll stay принцесса."
434 notes · View notes
thinkinonsense · 5 days ago
Text
Masterlist❀
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recommended by sel:
fantasize- old!logan howlett
past life- dofp!logan howlett x future wife!reader
seven days- x2!logan howlett
wicked- old man!logan howlett
touch- origins!logan howlett x fem!reader x black widow!natasha romanoff
call me if you're lonely- old man!logan howlett
bewitched- logan howlett bridgerton au
hozier mini-series- old man!logan howlett
positions mini-series- old man!logan howlett x housewife!reader
like a virgin mini-series- logan howlett x inexperienced fem!reader
old!logan and his obsession with the cute diner girl
old!logan x young bold fem!reader
bringing some vibrations into the bedroom with logan
logan + inspection kink
series:
magnetic- logan howlett
one-shots:
the boy is mine- logan howlett
i can see you- logan howlett
i knew you in another life- dp&w!logan howlett
blush- logan howlett
juno- logan howlett
talk, talk - logan howlett
colors- old man!logan howlett
slim pickins- lumberjack!logan howlett
desire- logan howlett
velvet elvis- lumberjack!logan howlett
on your collar- old man!logan howlett
sit still- logan howlett
rotten- dofp!logan howlett x fem!reader
blurbs:
dbf!logan who adores taking care of you
movie night with logan
first sleepover with worst!logan
dad!logan x teacher!reader
logan finds a way to help put his partner at ease.
dbf!logan breaks your heart part 2
daydreaming about logan's hands
tending to matt's wounds
1K notes · View notes
thinkinonsense · 7 days ago
Text
Sit Still。𖦹°‧
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—gif credit: not mine!! i can't remember where i found it but if i can find it again or the owner comments, ill add their username <3
logan howlett x fem!reader
cw: cockwarming (sorta?), innocence kink, p in v, logan attempts to teach reader how to ride.
a/n: apologies for this being so short but chapter two of bewitched should be out friday or saturday! also i'll be responding to some requests soon too in case i spam lmao
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"a-are you sure 'bout this, lo?"
your timid voice echos around the bedroom, capturing logan's attention again. he's been dreaming for months of this sight in front of him; you sitting pretty in his lap, only wearing a pink lacy bra and a pair of matching panties.
"you want me to make you feel good, right sweetheart?"
a small sigh escapes you as you attempt to grind onto him again. logan places his large hands on your waist to stop you from wiggling around. he knows you can't help it, you're still new to this after all.
it started a month ago when you and logan were left alone together in the mansion. everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away. you were recovering from a cold and logan simply didn't want to chaperone. instead, he offered to stay back with you.
late one evening, he came in to check on you and ask if there was anything you needed. that's when you asked him the question that nearly killed him, 'will you take my virginity?' you didn't see a problem with it. the two of you weren't strangers, you trusted logan, and he obviously has experience since he's much older than you.
ever since that night, you two have been going at it like rabbits. tonight, logan promised to help you get used to being on top. more importantly, training you to take him from this angle.
"c'mon, baby..." he coos with one hand on your hip and the other holding a cigar to his lips. "do it just like i told ya'."
swiftly, logan removes the rest of the material between the two of you before resting back against the mattress. anxiously, you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down until you're sat fully on his lap again.
"nice 'n slow for me, sweetheart. that's it, stay still..." logan hums, lost in your tight, wet heat. he can hear every little noise coming from your lips. "atta girl."
it's a struggle to take all of him at once. you can feel him deep in your gut, nudging that sweet spot inside of you. logan can tell that your nerves are still tangled in knots, practically strangling his cock.
"lo, i c-can't do it." you huff, upset at yourself. "too full to move."
"poor fuckin' baby." logan teases with faux sympathy. "how 'bout we try something else for now?"
too caught up with the soft grind of his hips, you nod your head mindlessly to his proposal. logan brings his thumb to his lips, replacing the cigar which is now back on the nightstand. he sits up, making you whimper as he does so. you lean forward to capture his lips with your own, whispering how badly you needed him to just fuck you himself. instead, logan's got something else in mind.
"ah!" you gasp as he starts to rub your button with the wet pad of thumb. "f-fuck, right there..."
the soft rocking of your hips makes your toes curl and fingers pull at his little kitten tuffs. logan's mouth moves south to your chest. one nipple in his mouth then the other until both are swollen and kiss bitten. vibrations pour from his mouth as he groans at the tight squeezing of your cunt around his girth.
"ah-ah." he tsks, hand coming up to grip your jaw, pinching your cheeks together gently. "what did i say 'bout staying still?"
"s-sorry, lo.." you whimper voice muffled by your squished pouty lips.
despite having incredible stamina, logan was ready to release just from looking at your pretty face. he never been this close to cumming so soon but feeling you tense around him and wiggle in his lap made his head spin. all of this movement from only his thumb drawing circles.
"christ..." he grunts in your ear, moving faster now and with more pressure. "you're tryin' a kill me, sweetheart."
all logan gets in response is incoherent babbles of 'don't stop' and 'please, please, please'. he knows you are close when you claw at his back and start to bounce on him little by little, just enough to make you see stars. it all feels too much yet not enough at the same time. logan's circles start to get sloppy as he approaches his high too.
"l-logan!" you squeal, heavy eyes trying to focus on his face. "wanna feel you..."
in a rush, logan picks up the pace, torturing your button with his thumb. a loud moan falls from your lips, trying to wiggle out of logan's grip as your orgasm washes over you with intense euphoria. logan growls in your neck from your tight fucking grip on his cock, pumping his load inside of your walls. some of it spilling out of you and drenching the sheets.
the two of you catch your breath in silence for a moment. your nails scratch his scalp softly while logan pulls you down to kiss him. after a second, you move back, smiling down at him in a way that makes him harden again.
"thought you were gonna show me how to ride?" you tease.
logan shoots you a cocky eyebrow raise before leaning back again, one hand on your hip and the other returning to his cigar on the night stand.
"alright, baby..." he chuckles, re-lighting the cigar and paying little attention to the roll of your hips. "let me see what you got."
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thinkinonsense · 13 days ago
Text
WICKED
old man!logan howlett x young fem!reader
cw: cheating, heavy flirting, smut, kinda dark
authors note: i have no idea what came over me and i cannot explain it. also! gif credit to the amazing n talented @silverskyeline <333
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he never should've gone to the bar. never should've let you run your pretty mouth. most definitely never should've bought you that martini. every weekend he watches you seduce the men at the bar until one of them falls into your trap.
logan would scoff, mumbling something under his breath about how stupid that bastard must be. despite the fact that the only thing holding him back from your advances was the thick gold band on his finger, reminding him of where his loyalty should be.
"lovely seeing you here again, logan."
he loathed your wicked smile and how your voice sounded like rain fall. trying his best to avoid staring into the eye of the storm but your presence demanded to be seen. practically ripping his hazel gaze off the wooden table and over to that tiny dress you were wearing. dark navy tight against your skin in a way that could make any man sin.
"missed ya' last weekend." you purr. "where were you at?"
"home." he states, gruffly.
"that's boring. why were you at home?"
"wedding anniversary."
the words made your tummy flip with excitement. you didn’t know much about logan outside of his favorite brands of alcohol, but you did know that he had a wife at home. he never mentioned her by name. sometimes, she would call the bar if it was “too late” for him to be out but other than that, she was a ghost.
“cute. you should bring her here one weekend.” you propose, almost making logan choke on his whisky. “bet she would love to see where you run and hide at night.”
“it’s not her kinda scene.” he responds.
“aw, i’m sure we would be friends.”
“doubtful.”
“and why’s that?” you fake pout.
logan leans in close before whispering, “don’t think she would appreciate you beggin’ for her husband to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom every weekend.”
“i didn’t say we would stay friends.” you giggle, making his cock stir in his work pants. “also, the invite is still open if you miss fuckin’ someone younger.”
the second you are out of sight, off in the pool room next door annoying some other asshole, he groans under his breath. logan hated how well you read him. you knew he wanted you but you were smart enough to make him come crawling to you if he wanted to feel your tight cunt wrapped around him.
after a couple minutes, a few men left the room and logan got up to take their place. when he walked inside he saw it was empty except for you sitting in one of the chairs on your phone.
“glad you decided to join me.” you smile up at him.
logan ignores you instead going over to get a stick and start playing. you finish your martini and join him as he sets up the balls. catching you off guard, he tosses you a stick too.
“if i win, you leave me alone for good.” he huffs in your face.
“sure but what do i get when i win?” you smirk.
logan ignores your question and growls, “ladies first.”
it's dead silent as you bend over the pool table to line your stick up to the diamond. logan's far too busy staring at the wet spot on your light blue panties. he never admit it, even if you knew for sure that's where his eyes were. it wasn't until he lost sight of the spot that he realized you already took your shot.
"your turn, old man." you tease, moving out of his way.
the two of you go back and forth for a bit but you were growing tired of this game. instead you decided to make things even more interesting.
"so when i win, are you going to finally fuck me?" your bluntness always left logan speechless.
"you already know the answer to that, sweetheart." he replies, trying to focus before shooting.
"sure, blah, blah, blah, something wife." you mock with an eye roll that almost made logan chuckle. "but seriously? when was the last time you two had sex? you probably got cobwebs in there."
that got a small smirk out of him. one that you count as a win.
"it's just a band. it comes off, see?" you lean over and take the ring off of his finger, placing it on the table.
logan stared at it for too long. feeling the distance of his commitments. you turn his head towards you with a light hook on his grey bearded chin. the lust in his eyes told you that you had won.
"you know what else comes off that easily?" you whisper, lips inches from his. "my panties."
a good man would've walked away. a good man would've returned home to his wife. but logan wasn't a good man. never had been and never would be.
an animalistic urge fell over him, grabbing you with the ease of a rag doll and bending you over the pool table. the wedding band was inches from your parted lips, moaning prettily as logan spread you open with his thumbs and licked a wide strip up your cunt, burying his face in your arousal and letting it coat his beard until he could only taste you.
"f-fuck me." logan groans, pulling back to catch his breath. "taste better than i imagined."
"knew you wanted me." you smirk, feeling his middle finger circle your entrance before pushing in. a loud moan is pulled from your throat as he hits that spongey spot with ease.
"weren't lying 'bout being tight." logan marvels, watching the way you suck in his finger.
he attempts to push in his ring finger as well and you wish you could've seen his face while he struggle to get it in. quickly, you reach for the wedding ring next to you then grab his hand from inside you. fumbling to get the ring back on him before he questions you.
"what are you—"
"go on." you coax, looking back at him with dark eyes. "try it now."
logan shouldn't have been so turned on from the image of his wedding ring coated in your slick; but here he was watching it disappear and reappear inside of you.
"right—fuck! r-right there..." you pant, arching farther back to meet his thrusts.
"does it turn you on being a homewreaker?" logan asks, back up on his feet and nibbling at your ear. "knowing that you have a old married man fucking you with his wedding band on?"
"mhm..." you mumble against the table. he takes the opportunity to pick up his pace, feeling you clench down. "d-don't stop..."
within seconds, your gushing around his fingers and dripping down his hand. right when he pulled out of you, you turn around and push him back into one of the plush chairs to undo his belt. falling to your knees, you begin to stroke him, tracing his veins with your tongue and tapping the tip on it.
"always knew you had quite the mouth on ya', princess." he grunts with a fist full of your hair.
you smile, taking him all the way until his tip hit the back of your throat and the hairs at his base tickled your nose. logan was finding it harder and harder to control his animalistic urge while your gagging and drooling all over his lap. quickly, you release him with a pop and stand up to straddle him, lining him up to your entrance and sinking down slowly.
"shit, you're so fucking tight." he says, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.
"only for you, logan." you whine, grinding down on him, rocking back and forth.
roughly, logan pulls the rest of your dress off of you, throwing it on the floor somewhere behind you. large hands touching you all over in ways you've only dreamt of. meanwhile, your attacking his neck like a madwoman. biting and marking him up like he's yours.
desperately, logan fucks up into you, needing more. his tip nudges that sweet spot within you, making you moan loudly in his ear, encouraging him to go faster. so focused on the squealing of your soaked pussy. he captures your lips, kissing you tenderly. you can feel his high approaching, twitching inside of you, and you needed to do one last thing before it hit him.
carefully you pull away, gripping his chin and pulling him face to face with you. his eyes are blown out with desire as he stares at you.
"tell me your mine, lo." you whisper against his lips.
logan can feel you clench tightly around him, waiting for him to give into you completely. he presses his thumb down on your button, moving in fast circles to get you there with him.
"f-fuck, i'm yours, baby." he moans, coating your walls with spurts of his release. "i'm yours."
"t-that's right." you moan, kissing him roughly as your high washes over you.
"you look so pretty like this." he coos, watching the pleasure run over you.
for a moment the two of you sit still, trying to catch your breath. logan's mind races, not meaning to cum inside of you but it's far too late now.
"lets keep this a secret between the two of us, huh?" he says while you play with his hand, mischievously. before he can notice, you pocket the ring.
"sure thing, baby." you reply. "i'll gladly be your little secret but have fun explaining those marks to the old ball and chain."
logan looks down at you and that wicked smile of yours, only to realize just how fucked he is.
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thinkinonsense · 13 days ago
Text
Sit Still。𖦹°‧
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—gif credit: not mine!! i can't remember where i found it but if i can find it again or the owner comments, ill add their username <3
logan howlett x fem!reader
cw: cockwarming (sorta?), innocence kink, p in v, logan attempts to teach reader how to ride.
a/n: apologies for this being so short but chapter two of bewitched should be out friday or saturday! also i'll be responding to some requests soon too in case i spam lmao
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"a-are you sure 'bout this, lo?"
your timid voice echos around the bedroom, capturing logan's attention again. he's been dreaming for months of this sight in front of him; you sitting pretty in his lap, only wearing a pink lacy bra and a pair of matching panties.
"you want me to make you feel good, right sweetheart?"
a small sigh escapes you as you attempt to grind onto him again. logan places his large hands on your waist to stop you from wiggling around. he knows you can't help it, you're still new to this after all.
it started a month ago when you and logan were left alone together in the mansion. everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away. you were recovering from a cold and logan simply didn't want to chaperone. instead, he offered to stay back with you.
late one evening, he came in to check on you and ask if there was anything you needed. that's when you asked him the question that nearly killed him, 'will you take my virginity?' you didn't see a problem with it. the two of you weren't strangers, you trusted logan, and he obviously has experience since he's much older than you.
ever since that night, you two have been going at it like rabbits. tonight, logan promised to help you get used to being on top. more importantly, training you to take him from this angle.
"c'mon, baby..." he coos with one hand on your hip and the other holding a cigar to his lips. "do it just like i told ya'."
swiftly, logan removes the rest of the material between the two of you before resting back against the mattress. anxiously, you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down until you're sat fully on his lap again.
"nice 'n slow for me, sweetheart. that's it, stay still..." logan hums, lost in your tight, wet heat. he can hear every little noise coming from your lips. "atta girl."
it's a struggle to take all of him at once. you can feel him deep in your gut, nudging that sweet spot inside of you. logan can tell that your nerves are still tangled in knots, practically strangling his cock.
"lo, i c-can't do it." you huff, upset at yourself. "too full to move."
"poor fuckin' baby." logan teases with faux sympathy. "how 'bout we try something else for now?"
too caught up with the soft grind of his hips, you nod your head mindlessly to his proposal. logan brings his thumb to his lips, replacing the cigar which is now back on the nightstand. he sits up, making you whimper as he does so. you lean forward to capture his lips with your own, whispering how badly you needed him to just fuck you himself. instead, logan's got something else in mind.
"ah!" you gasp as he starts to rub your button with the wet pad of thumb. "f-fuck, right there..."
the soft rocking of your hips makes your toes curl and fingers pull at his little kitten tuffs. logan's mouth moves south to your chest. one nipple in his mouth then the other until both are swollen and kiss bitten. vibrations pour from his mouth as he groans at the tight squeezing of your cunt around his girth.
"ah-ah." he tsks, hand coming up to grip your jaw, pinching your cheeks together gently. "what did i say 'bout staying still?"
"s-sorry, lo.." you whimper voice muffled by your squished pouty lips.
despite having incredible stamina, logan was ready to release just from looking at your pretty face. he never been this close to cumming so soon but feeling you tense around him and wiggle in his lap made his head spin. all of this movement from only his thumb drawing circles.
"christ..." he grunts in your ear, moving faster now and with more pressure. "you're tryin' a kill me, sweetheart."
all logan gets in response is incoherent babbles of 'don't stop' and 'please, please, please'. he knows you are close when you claw at his back and start to bounce on him little by little, just enough to make you see stars. it all feels too much yet not enough at the same time. logan's circles start to get sloppy as he approaches his high too.
"l-logan!" you squeal, heavy eyes trying to focus on his face. "wanna feel you..."
in a rush, logan picks up the pace, torturing your button with his thumb. a loud moan falls from your lips, trying to wiggle out of logan's grip as your orgasm washes over you with intense euphoria. logan growls in your neck from your tight fucking grip on his cock, pumping his load inside of your walls. some of it spilling out of you and drenching the sheets.
the two of you catch your breath in silence for a moment. your nails scratch his scalp softly while logan pulls you down to kiss him. after a second, you move back, smiling down at him in a way that makes him harden again.
"thought you were gonna show me how to ride?" you tease.
logan shoots you a cocky eyebrow raise before leaning back again, one hand on your hip and the other returning to his cigar on the night stand.
"alright, baby..." he chuckles, re-lighting the cigar and paying little attention to the roll of your hips. "let me see what you got."
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thinkinonsense · 14 days ago
Text
Over Each Other [L.H.]
Logan Howlett x female!reader
summary: Logan and you are just friends – you have a boyfriend, after all. But sometimes when you and your boyfriend are arguing, Logan listens and jerks off to it. He knows you two will break up soon, and he’s just finding ways to patiently pass the time until you can be his. Until one night, you’ve fought your final argument with your boyfriend and are in need of some comfort that Logan is more than happy to provide.
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warnings: smut 18+ like this is more sexual and less fluffy (or angsty) than the summary sounds tbh (m masturbation, oral sex f receiving, unprotected piv, creampie, Logan calls reader princess, good girl, bub, baby), kinda toxic i mean you read the summary but still a sweet fic, reader is vulnerable so Logan could be seen to be taking advantage of her so don’t read if you don’t like, excuse the dramatic title and a few lines (from Linkin Park’s Over Each Other) because this is also me working through some feelings lmao, this is obviously not at aaalllll a realistic depiction of healing from a break-up lol (although I sincerely believe it would work with Logan..), X-Mansion era
note: not the fic I was expecting to be my first fic in over a month but my heart needed this so here you go <3 i also only proofread once so lmk if there are any atrocious typos lmao | gorgeous dividers by @dollywons
word count: 3.9k oops wth 
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Logan knows he’s a bad man. He’s killed people, innocent people, committed countless crimes, done more evil things than he can ever remember. But now he knows he’s a bad man because of something entirely different. 
Logan shamelessly jerks off to the sound of you and your boyfriend arguing. 
He doesn’t even need to use his heightened hearing, that’s how loud you two are. Night after night after night he listens to you arguing, stroking his cock to the rhythm of your voice. 
You always have the upper hand — he would never masturbate to your pain or to you being degraded. Your boyfriend is a fucking idiot and you’re not afraid to let him know. Logan is sure he’s not the only one who knows that your relationship will end soon, and he’s fine to give you the time you need. Logan is a patient man these days; he can wait. But he’ll make the wait worth his while. 
He gains pleasure from knowing that soon you two will break up, and you’ll be all his.
Logan sees the way you look at him, senses the way your heartbeat speeds up that little bit when he smiles at you, smells a spike in your pheromones when he’s around. And he’s no different when it comes to you.
The more you and your stupid boyfriend argue, the closer you get to breaking up, and the closer Logan gets to his release. 
He’s listening to your moans of frustration this evening and imagines turning them into moans of pleasure, imagines licking your pussy until you’ve forgot all about your little boyfriend. Logan’s fist speeds up around his dick, hips moving up to fuck into his hand as he thinks of you and your gorgeous face.
Logan cums with your voice in his head, with the thought of you and your boyfriend finally breaking up, and shoots cum all over his own hand, down his forearm, and over his abs. He jerks off until he’s satisfied, lying in his bed a mess for a second – his hand coated in his cum, his happy trail sticky.
When Logan’s breath slows down, he realises your voice has stopped. You’re not arguing anymore – you must have gone to sleep. Then he hears your voice again, this time much closer.
“Logan?” A quiet knock at his door, “It’s me, you still awake?”
He pulls his sweatpants back in place and reaches for a tissue, only for his hand to land in the empty box. In a panic, Logan takes off the shirt that he’d pushed up over his abs, and uses it to clean himself of his release, using his freshly washed shirt like a rag.
“One second!” He calls out as he rubs the bunched up shirt over his happy trail to get it all off. Logan throws the dirty shirt into the corner of the room, and opens the door shirtless.
His heart drops when he sees the state you’re in, cheeks wet with tears and clinging to a teddy bear Logan once got you.
“Um… we just broke up. Can I come in? I know it’s late…”
Logan ushers you inside before the sentence has fully left your lips. Now he feels a twinge of guilt – he was too busy trying to get off to realise it was a serious argument this time. Maybe he jerks off more to the concept of you and that dumb boyfriend (ex-boyfriend) arguing and how hot you sound putting that guy in his place all confidently, than the actual fight.
As much as it pains him to see you hurt, he has to smile behind your back for a second when he closes the door. But a shiver runs up his spine when you let your guard down once you’re alone with Logan, all teary-eyed and small and sad. 
Logan sits you down on his bed as you tell him the full story. 
I tried to find my patience… 
All we did was talk over each other… 
 It was all a waste of time… 
There was nothing underneath… 
 I'm so tired of talking over each other…
Logan hugs you while you cling to him, your words barely audible with how you’re smothered against his naked shoulder. He gently rubs your back, and it only makes you hold onto him tighter. 
“Shh, shh baby, I’m here for you. It’s gonna be okay.” The pet name just slips out. Logan barely realises what he’s said until you look up at him all doe-eyed, nodding your head frantically. 
“I’m okay,” you say, “For now. Thank you for listening.”
“Of course, do you want to stay here for the night?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“‘Course I don’t mind, bub. I like having you here. Even better if it means I can take care of you while you need someone,” Logan says, and watches a soft smile spread on your face.
You sit up to wipe your eyes, only to realise you have no tears left. It’s been an hour since you got here, and you’ve calmed down. 
Logan held you, said all the right things, helped you see things clearly. You’re better off without that guy, and you know Logan will be here for you until you’re over him. More importantly, you’re sure he will be there for you beyond that too.
“Here you go,” Logan takes your teddy and gives him a special place on his nightstand, and lets you wrap your arms around him as you settle against his chest. He’s not sure what to do next, but it’s late and he assumes you have no energy to do anything other than sleep.
It surprises him when you speak up a few minutes later, though your voice is quiet.
“He couldn’t even make me cum…”
Logan looks at you and finds a pout on your lips but a glint in your eyes, the warm glow of his bedside lamp making you look like an angel.
He chuckles, “So you’re crying over a man that couldn’t even make his girl feel good?”
You nod your head and smile bashfully.
“When was the last time you were fucked well?”
You look away from Logan as you think, “Uh, I dunno.” 
“Hhmm. You didn’t miss it in all that time you were together?”
You turn to your side to lean up on your elbow, more awake again, “Well, I did. But maybe now I can… find someone better.”
You’re looking up right at Logan through your pretty eyelashes, and it’s subtle but so seductive, but he knows you’re too shy to initiate something, especially now when you probably feel guilty for not mourning your relationship more. But Logan is proud of you for realising your worth and ending it. Your ex should be the only one sad right now, not you.
“Of course you will,” Logan tells you, “You’ll find someone who loves you more than that idiot ever could and someone who will fuck you as good as you deserve.”
“Hmm, you think so?”
“I know so, bub.”
You give him a smile and move to lie down on your belly, head resting on your folded up arms. Your scooting around moves the blanket, pulling it off of Logan’s lap, revealing the half-hard bulge under his sweatpants. 
Logan pulls the blanket back in place, but he’s not sure if you saw.
“How will I know if I’m being fucked well? If I don’t have a reference…” you play with your hands, not looking at Logan.
“I could always show you,” Logan smiles, patiently waiting for you to gain the confidence to look back into his eyes, and you do.
“Only if you want to. But if I’m interpreting your signals right then..” you nod to his lap with a teasing smile.
“You saw…” Logan rolls his eyes at himself which earns him a sweet laugh from you, “Didn’t want you to think your pain makes me hard, or that I’m taking advantage of you.”
“Do I look like I’m in pain right now?” you giggle, a huge smile on your face, cheeks already getting warm with arousal, “And if you wanted to take advantage I’m sure you wouldn’t have waited for me to bring it up.”
“You sure about this, bub? We have all the time in the world.”
“I want you now, Logan. Been waiting to get the courage to break up with him so I could finally have a chance at being with you.”
“Really?” Logan asks, but you’re busy letting your gaze drift down his body, fixed on his lap now. Logan moves closer, and he takes your face in his hands, chuckling “You still with me, bub?”
You don’t reply. Instead, you push your mouth against his, and it’s the most intense kiss Logan has ever experienced. It’s like Logan can feel himself pulling all the pain from you with his lips, eating your pain alive and swallowing it, never to be seen again.
He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know that you’re smiling more than you have in weeks. He can feel a new energy radiating off your body. Something is healing in you. 
You kiss until you’re both breathless, smiling and horny. Logan’s erection is pressing against your leg, and he can practically smell how wet you are.
“Tell me what you need, baby,” Logan says, heart beating fast from how turned on he is.
You pause for a second, grinning and almost too needy to think, “Tell me what you want to do to me.”
“How about I show you?” Logan lies you on your back, slowly pushing your oversized sleep shirt over your hips, and kissing down your body, down to your knees and over your shins.
“Is this okay? Tell me if you wanna stop.”
“Don’t stop,” you breathe, skin heating up where he touches you to gently pull your knees apart, “Never stop.”
Logan chuckles against your warm skin where he kisses you, from the side of your knee to your upper inner thigh. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you, how long I've needed you.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” It’s hard to talk, but you’re getting the words out somehow, “Could’ve been with you ages ago.”
“Didn’t want to intervene with anything. You needed your time to break up. And I know good things take time, and…” his words die in his throat when his lips move to your panties. They’re soaked with wetness, and Logan inhales you, something between a moan and a whimper leaving his mouth.
“God, baby…” he whispers, settling down between your legs and then lifting them up over his shoulders, “You have no idea how badly I need to eat your pussy right now. Can I?”
You nod, fighting the urge to rip your panties off yourself.
“Use your words, princess.”
“Yes, Logan.. yes, yes.” It’s the only word you can think of right now, with the heat of his mouth so close to your clothed pussy. He smirks at your words and nuzzles his cheek between your legs, leaving your clit throbbing and the spot on your panties growing larger.
You clench around nothing when Logan trails the tip of his tongue up and down your pussy over your panties, your legs squeezing around his head, hands finding his hair.
“You gonna be a good girl for me and stop squirming? I wanna take my time with you, baby.” 
You nod and close your eyes for a moment, unsure if you can stop. But then Logan slowly pulls your panties to the side and seems to forget about wanting to take his time himself.
“Such a pretty fucking pussy, baby–” he interrupts his own words by burying his face between your legs, licking his way up from your pussy to the top of your clit and moaning as if it were the best meal he’s ever tasted.
You tighten your hand in his hair to pull him even closer and he obeys your silent command, burying his face in you more, his beard, lips and nose now wet with you. Logan licks into your pussy, tasting you like a man starved, one of his big hands coming up your body to place it over your tit.
“So fucking perfect,” he mumbles more to himself, finger playing with your nipple as his tongue plays with your clit. It’s been so long since you experienced this type of pleasure that you’re close already.
“Logan…” it comes out as a whimper, and he smirks as he lifts his head to look at you.
“Yes, princess?”
“Might not last long..” you say, and it takes everything in you not to push his head down.
“That’s the point, baby,” he smiles, and goes back down. He brings his hands between your legs to spread your pussy lips so that he can get even closer. You feel vulnerable spread open for him like this, but it’s a comfortable vulnerability. Your heart feels content. You know you can trust him. He won’t hurt you.
You’re so wet that you’re almost embarrassed by how loud it sounds when Logan eats your pussy. A pleasure you’ve been missing in your life for a while rushes through your body when Logan begins to suck on your clit, and your back arches off the bed.
You cum with Logan’s name a whisper on your lips, and he doesn’t stop until you’re seeing stars and pushing his head away. 
Logan sits up from between your legs with a grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and then licking it clean right after.
“You okay?” He smiles, and you realise how hard you’re panting.
“Yeah. I almost forgot what that feels like,” you confess.
“What, cumming?”
You nod with a pout that Logan quickly kisses away, covering your body with his as he hovers over you.
“Trust me, bub, we’ll make you remember all of it. You up for more tonight?”
“Yes,” you reply embarrassingly fast. You’re not sure you could stop if you wanted to, your body pumped full with the happiness hormones you haven’t felt in all too long.
Logan holds himself up over you with one arm, pulling down his pants. You’d tease him about the wet spot of precum on them, but you’re far too horny to think of what to say.
“Good, because you taste so delicious, baby, you’re not getting rid of me between your legs any time soon,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you as you grin against him. You don’t want him to leave, ever.
His big hand finds your thigh, and he gently pushes a finger in, then two, kissing you and watching your face for any signs of discomfort, but all you’re doing is arching your back for him to push deeper.
“You want it, baby?”
You look down Logan’s body, eyes settling on his hard and wanting cock, the tip glistening with precum, “Mhmm,” you nod frantically, “I want it.”
“Been a while though…” you add hesitantly.
“It’s okay, princess. I’ll be gentle. We’ve got all the time in the world, okay?” He leans his forehead against yours and a smile spreads over your face again.
“Okay.” You lean up to kiss him, both of you getting lost in the way your tongues feel against each other for a few moments.
“Here,” Logan rubs a few messy circles over your pussy, his palm getting slick with your wetness. He wraps a hand around his dick, stroking himself a few times to coat himself in the feeling of you.
“I’m ready,” you tell Logan before he can ask.
“Good girl.”
Logan trails his thumb over your cheek and gives you a chaste kiss, and butterflies erupt in your belly.
“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he says, and all you can do is look back up at him lovingly.
“You want me to put it in?” he asks, teasingly slapping his cock against your clit a few times. Then, he suddenly pauses.
The warmth of him above you is gone, but he’s not far. He’s leaning over to his bedside table, turning your teddy bear away from you two.
“He doesn’t need to see this,” he says all seriously, and you giggle.
You help him take off your shirt, and you’re bare underneath, and as good as it feels to have Logan distracted by how good your boobs look for a bit, you need him somewhere else.
“Logan?” you ask, and he looks back up at you, a nipple still in his mouth.
“Yes?” he licks a broad stripe over your nipple as he says it, and it comes out muffled.
“Kind of need you somewhere else.”
“Oh, do you, princess?” Logan hovers over you again, leaning on one forearm as his other hand rests on your tit, and he’s smirking down at you, “Where would that be?”
You grin widely, biting your lip as you carefully take his hand off you, and bring it between your legs. You don’t even have to guide him all the way to your pussy before his hand is gone from yours and he’s cupping your wet, warm pussy.
“Here, baby?” he brings two fingers up to his mouth to suck your wetness off them, and you nod as if in a trance.
“Okay, bub, you sure?”
“Yesss, Logan,” you let out a pathetic groan of frustration, your chest vibrating with the sound.
He smirks, bringing his hand, still slick with his spit, to your cheeks and squishing them together, “You’re so adorable when you’re horny, you know that, princess?” You bat his hand away at his teasing, but your grin might be even bigger than his.
Logan finally lifts one of your legs and pushes it up against your chest, rubbing a few lazy circles on your clit before he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds. He’s doing it to tease you, but you see him lose his own composure, expression turning into a frown of neediness.
You share another quick but sloppy kiss during which you take Logan’s cock and rub it against your pussy. He only pulls away from the kiss to finally put the tip inside you.
“God,” he groans at just the first few inches, and you both calm yourself down to make sure this isn’t over immediately.
“I can take it,” you say, wrapping your arms around Logan’s neck.
“You’re my good girl, hm? Gonna take my cock? You sure?”
“Yes, Logan. Need all of it, please.”
“I got you, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.” 
Logan slides his cock inside you, inch by inch, and you both moan when he bottoms out. 
“You feel good?” He asks, and all you can do is nod. You groan, only at the fact that he’s not moving yet.
“Me too, baby, me too,” he smiles, slowly starting to move, beginning to fuck you. And he was right, he’s fucking you well. Better than anything you’ve ever felt.
He pulls out almost entirely for the first few thrusts, then stuffing you full of his big cock again, your wet pussy pulsing around him, sucking him back in. Your heart beats happily against your chest and he can feel it too; he’s slotted against your body as closely as he can be.
“Such a good girl, taking me so well. You still okay, princess?”
You grin and take his face to kiss him, his hips stilling just as he’s buried inside you as deeply as possible. You make out with him for a few seconds, pussy spasming around his uncontrollably, and you feel Logan squirm and pull out of you a bit because he doesn’t want to cum yet.
“That’s how good I feel,” you smile up at him.
Logan grins, burying his face in your neck to kiss you there as his hips begin to move again. He kisses over your jaw and your cheeks as a hand comes down to rub your clit. Together with his dick inside you, pulsing with warmth and pleasure, you suddenly feel all the energy of your body flowing between your thighs again.
You whimper against Logan’s face, your cheek catching against his.
“You close, baby?”
“Mhhm,” is the only sound you can muster as you cling to Logan, letting him fuck your pussy and play with your clit until you’re almost there.
“Such a good girl for me. Want you to cum for me, alright, princess? Gonna feel so fucking good, yeah?”
Your response is a whimper against his lips as you let go, and pleasure floods your body. Your pussy clenches around Logan’s dick, and while he’s still rubbing your clit, fucking you through your orgasm, he cums.
Logan cums so much you’re not sure where your orgasm ends and his begins, but you know you don’t stop feeling good until he’s drained until the last drop and your pussy is stuffed full with his cum.
You both slow down bit by bit, breathless and grinning at each other, not letting go. When Logan brings his hand back up between your faces, it’s slick with your wetness and covered in his cum, and you take his wrist to guide him towards your face.
You look Logan in the eyes as you suck his and your cum off his fingers, one by one, and Logan kisses you the second you’re done.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers in your ear, slowly pulling out of you and pulling you into his arms when he lies down.
“Thank you,” you respond shyly, unsure what to say. You’re too happy to pay attention to your words.
“I’m always here for you, baby. You know that. And as soon as you’re ready to move on, I’ll take you on the best date of your life, okay?”
You grin, kissing his lips, “Okay. And until then?”
“Until then I’ll eat that pretty pussy of yours every evening, and you can sleep in my bed whenever you don’t feel like being alone. Sound good?”
You wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling against his chest, your heart warm and happy as you feel yourself getting tired, “Sounds good.”
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P.S. thank you for reading <3 reblog and let me know what you liked most about this fic for Logan to come and eat your pussy out every night <3
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thinkinonsense · 15 days ago
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Rotten
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dofp!logan howlett x fem!reader
cw: boot riding, dom!logan, spitting, slight hair pulling, bratty!reader
a/n: something short for now but the semester is over after next week so all december expect more frequent posts from me. gonna focus on the bewitched and sweet temptations mini series plus the new one im working on with worst!logan x camgirl/of fem!reader :)
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"i only got a few more papers to grade, princess."
one of the greatest lies ever told, you think to yourself as you sit on logan's lap while he grades essays. two hours turn into four and before you know it, half the night is gone already.
"c'mon baby..." you whine, kissing his neck and leaving little marks, then watching them disappear. "the rest can wait until tomorrow."
deep down logan almost feels bad but he can feel you softly rubbing your pretty blue lace panties on his thigh.
"told ya' only got a couple left to grade then im yours." he says, paying little attention to you as possible.
a sigh of annoyance escapes your lips. slowly you rock yourself back and forth to gain some sort of pleasure from him.
"quit it, sweetheart." logan says sternly, smacking your ass rather roughly.
"fine." you huff, rolling your eyes over his shoulder.
a beat passes before you slowly kiss your way down his body, leaving a glossy trail down his abdomen and v-line until you're settled on the ground in between his thighs under the desk.
logan tries his best to ignore you. he really does but god, it's so hard when you are resting your head on his lap, inches from his bulge.
"what are ya' doing down there?" he asks, raising an eyebrow down at you. sweet doe eyed angel, peering up at him as if it were nothing.
"just resting here until you're ready." you said, biting back the smirk daring to appear.
he's not sure why he trusted you to keep your word. especially when he's spoiled you rotten over the years, always giving into your needs.
steadily, you wrap yourself around his left leg and take a seat on the front of his leather boot. cheek pressed against the inside of his thigh as you resume your grinding from moments ago.
"fuck lo..." you moan, sinking your nails into the material of his jeans; grabbing fist fulls near his calf.
a small puddle of slick leaks from your panties onto the leather, making it easier to move. quickly, you remove the lace and sit your bare core on his boot. a loud moan spills from your lips at the feel of cool leather on your clit.
"f-feels so, ahh!"
logan watches your head tip back, too fucked out to be care about how much of a mess you were making on his shoe. the essays were long forgotten by now, instead he is busy watching you attempt to get off.
"tell me how it feels, princess." logan says, big rough hand gripping your jaw. his hazel eyes were now unrecognizable, dark and blown out with lust for you. "that bratty cunt of yours is just weeping for me, huh?"
"yes, lo! it's s-so fucking good." you struggle to keep eye contact with him, which only spurs him on further into this game. "need you to fuck me, lo. please, wanna ride you."
logan tsks, shaking his head and leaning in to rest his arms on his thighs. inches away from your pretty face.
"rotten girls don't get to ride."
without warning, logan begins to tap his foot up and now. the front rubbing your button just right. soft bounces and lewd noises flood logan's bedroom.
under his cold looking exterior, logan was struggling inside the dark denim covering his large bulge. truth be told, he was enjoying this almost as much as you were. the sight of your slightly parted lips and scrunched eyebrows were prettier than any painting he had ever seen.
"such a messy pussy." he mocks, moving his foot faster, allowing for more of your pretty moans to escape you. "gonna tarnish the leather, sweetheart."
"uh... uh fuck..." you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut. " 'm s-so close!"
logan's lucky that you aren't the one with claws, considering how deep you are digging your nails into his legs while humping his boot pathetically chasing your high.
without warning, he taps your cheek signaling you to open your mouth. half expecting him to place the pad of his thumb on your tongue but pleasantly surprised by the string of spit connecting the two of you.
the kiss is almost as messy as the scene below you. all teeth and tongue. oxytocin fills the room as you reach your high, moaning in logan's mouth and gushing all over his poor boot.
when the two of you finally pull apart, logan can't help but take in the image in front of him of you clinging to his leg with a hazy stare, and glossy kiss bitten lips.
"finally gonna fuck me?" you giggle as he pulls you back into his lap.
"maybe." he hums, rubbing his hand up and down you back. "seems like someone is pretty spoiled though."
in a split second, logan's got a fist full of your hair wrapped around his rough palm, tipping your head to the side so he can leave marks on your neck.
"it's not my fault, lo." you pout, slipping your fingers under his shirt.
"i know, baby. i know." he chuckles to himself before lifting you over to the mattress and laying you flat on your stomach with your ass in the air, waiting for him.
it's going to be a long night.
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thinkinonsense · 15 days ago
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sneak peak of my wips! all of them should be posted in the next few weeks while i'm on christmas break. if you would like to be tagged in any of them, comment which one <3
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thinkinonsense · 15 days ago
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best fic i've read in a while <333
for always and ever is always for you
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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!
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“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.”
••••••
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thinkinonsense · 16 days ago
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forgive if it’s a bit scatterbrained but hear me out… some sort of reverse corruption w old man!logan >///< i just feel like he won’t be the type of guy who’d immediately be into having a thing w young!reader. i feel like he won’t even take it seriously at first or there’s def gonna be more resistance from him, he’d probably feel initially repulsed by the idea of even beginning to think of them that way given how young they are. but reader is bold bold, so they’re gonna keep pushing and pushing until they’ve got him where they want him. but even if she’s practically sinking down on him, logan is still probably gonna be like “fuck’s wrong with you, huh? old enough to be your fucking grandfather, kid. c’mon, you don’t really want this.”
poor old man’s just too decent for his own good :(
old man!logan x young bold fem!reader *mdni
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logan couldn't stand you. how young and ambitious you were; how you couldn't just take no as a fuckin' answer. you thought it was cute but logan found it rather obnoxious. you were persistent with your attraction towards the older man; frequenting the only bar in town that logan was still welcomed in.
"what are we drinking tonight, lo?" your voice was a siren song that he wished he could turn off.
"whiskey." he mumbles against the glass.
the mean glare he sent your way would've made anyone else run in fear, but not you. instead smiling up at him with bambi eyes. at first, logan thought you were just dumb, not picking up on his signals but as it turned out, you're just stubborn.
every friday night, you sat on the stool next to him. you should've been flirting with guys your age by the pool table but no, you would rather get rejected by the old man who drinks alone. at one point even the bartenders started to think that you two were together which logan quickly shut down.
"c'mon, at least let me pretend that i'm yours," you whine, swirling around your second fruity drink tonight.
"you don't want to 'be mine', kid," he said in a stern voice, similar to one you would use on a child who won't behave.
"aaand...why not?" you ask him, crossing your arms and already getting pissy. "don't gimme that bullshit about you being 'too old' either."
"has anyone ever told you that you're-"
"pretty? hilarious? tight? yeah, a few times actually."
logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. he tries to give you some sympathy but there's only so many times that you can burn your hand on the stove until you learn your lesson.
"look, cherry..." logan sets his glass down. you adored when he called you, cherry because that meant he was paying attention to you and what you drank, always having to top it off with a cherry. "i'm probably your grandfather's age-"
"don't care." you interrupt him, leaning forward to stare into his eyes and run a hand through his hair. "your grey hair is so hot, lo. should let me pull on it sometime."
logan was finding it more difficult to resist you. almost letting out a groan when you pull slightly. logan could smell your arousal forming; clouding his vision.
"why don't you throw your panties in someone else's direction, huh? i'm sure those boys over there wouldn't mind." logan snarls, getting fed up with your attitude.
it wasn't that he didn't find you attractive, quite the opposite really. maybe if he was younger or you were older then he wouldn't mind your flirty personality so much but that's not the way that the world works. logan is -whether or not he wants to admit it- old and he didn't have time to put up with your whiney shit.
"okay." you shrug, getting up from the barstool.
logan doesn't believe that you'll actually go talk to those boys. in one minute your ass will be back here annoying him. he was sure of it.
then ten minutes passed and giggles were still falling from your lips. nothing the guys said was actually funny but you played it up to look better. there was one guy who you actually didn't mind talking to; both of you went to the same college and shared the same major. for a second, you'd completely forgotten about the man burning holes into your side.
the two of you talked for a while, exchanging stories while you leaned against the pool table in your tiny cut-off shorts. logan watched those boys gawk at you; staring everywhere but your face.
"i know right! her class was horrible! all she did was-" your words fell short when someone grabbed your upper arm, attempting to pull you away from the guy, who you think his name was josh, or john, or jake? you couldn't really remember and you definitely didn't care.
"c'mon kid, i'll give you a ride home." logan growled in your ear.
"oh, it's okay!" you chirp like a little bird at him. "think i'll find another way home tonight."
it's just a facade, logan told himself. you were just trying to prove a point. always stubborn.
"i'm not messing 'round, kid-"
"leave her alone, old man." the kid interrupted, giving logan a push.
logan snarls, about to teach this boy a lesson but you are faster; heel-kicking him in the nuts. the boy hunched over, allowing you to be ear level with him.
"fuck off." you spit, angrily before walking away.
logan looked at you completely dumbfounded. he had no other choice than to follow you blindly outside of the bar. he found you leaning against his truck; under the dim street light, logan would've misplaced you for some angelic figure.
"mind takin' me home, lo?" you ask him, for once not acting like some horny little rabbit towards him.
he nods, fishing out his keys. you give him directions to your apartment. the silence in the car makes you think logan's mad at you for real this time. you pushed it too far, embarrassing him and yourself this time. logan wasn't this dirty old perv who would actually give you the time of day, and maybe it was time for you to face that reality.
"i just wanted to say sorry for everything." your voice is low and quiet. afraid logan won't even acknowledge you. "i know that i should've left you alone a long time ago. you wouldn't want someone like me anyway-"
the car came to a dead halt in the driveway. logan turns to face you and you fear the worst; afraid he will yell at you.
"do you seriously think i wouldn't want you?" he asks. "you haven't left my mind since the day we bumped into each other at the bar and i spilled my whisky down your shirt. remember that, cherry?"
you nod, carefully. that day was imprinted in your mind. your friends and you were celebrating your birthday when logan bumped into you at the bar on accident. he frantically apologized for ruining your white shirt which you suggested for him to lick you clean. it had been so long since someone had flirted with him that he didn't know how to react.
"i'd never seen someone look so pretty and sticky at the same time." logan's hand gently caresses your cheek.
"could've seen it more often if you had fucked me like i wish you would've." the words fall out without pressure, making logan smirk. no matter how much you tried, you were desperate for him.
"you've got one dirty fuckin' mouth, cherry."
"it gets dirtier than that."
"hmm... don't know if that's possible."
"i could show you if you like."
the offer hangs hot in the truck. logan leans back into his seat, asking for forgiveness on what he's about to do. three light taps on his thigh and you crawl right into it.
"atta fuckin' girl, cherry." he groans as you grind against his crotch and bite on his neck.
"also for the record, the only person i want to have my panties is you, logan." you purred in his ear, referring back to your earlier conversation at the bar.
"i know, sweetheart. i know." he chuckles, watching you kick off your shorts and underwear.
once your back in his lap, you unbuckle his belt and wait eagerly for him to have his way with you. yet, logan doesn't offer anything.
"if you want to fuck an old man like me then you need to get used to doin' all the work, cherry." he says, half-joking. "can't keep up with an eager little thing like you."
you knew his game. to scare you off by acting like an asshole but you didn't mind doing the work to get what you want.
"fine with me." you smile, hands inching towards the glasses that hang on his button-down. "can't forget these, want you to see what you do to me."
logan groaned when you pulled him out of his pants, pumping him a few times before aligning him to your entrance. he was a bit bigger than you would've guessed, only making you wetter. just as you are about to sink down onto him, logan stops you, holding your hips in the air.
"fuck's wrong with you, cherry? you still want this, huh?" he taunts you, only getting a whine from you in response. "such a desperate little thing."
"p-p-please, logan." your hips wiggle against his tight grip. "want you... need you."
without another word, he lowers you down onto his length. both of you moan at the adjustment. your nails claw at logan's shoulders and you feel him twitch inside of you at the pain.
"happy now?" logan groaned, watching you bounce up and down on your own. his hands stayed on your waist, squeezing at the fat of your hips. "got what you fuckin' wanted."
"mhm..." you nod along dumbly agreeing to whatever he says. too busy trying to get his white button-down off of him. frustrated, you break open all the buttons.
once his chest was exposed, you litter it with kisses and dark bruises. for the first time, logan was happy that his healing abilities were slowing down so now he can admire your artwork longer. you grab both of his giant palms bringing one hand to your chest and taking the other thumb into your mouth, licking the pad of it before moving it down to your clit. tracing circles in a way that made your head fall back with your mouth wide open.
"do you always get this wet for older men or is it just for me, sweetheart?" logan asked, fist full of your hair.
"j-just you, lo..." you gasp.
logan's lips found your jaw, kissing up to your chin before capturing your lips. he wasn't a fan of fruity drinks but he loved the taste they left in your mouth. your backs against the wheel lazily and logan can tell that your orgasm is approaching.
"don't give up now, cherry." he teased. "you were doing so good, being a perfect little slut in my lap. what happened to her?"
you were too fucked out to say anything back and he knew it. logan finally took pity on you and started pistoling into you, listening to every pretty curse word that fell from your trembling lips.
"where do you want me, sweetheart?" logan grunts in your ear, pulling at the lobe as you come down from your high.
"inside, please."
that's all logan needed to hear to spill inside of you. the warmth indescribably flooded you. the two of you collapse in each other's arms, collecting yourself for a few minutes.
"told you, i'm a good fuck." you told him, looking up at him with messy hair and an unapologetic smile.
"didn't doubt you," he says, mirroring your smile as he moves some pieces of hair from your forehead. maybe logan could see you being a permanent person in his life.
"and to think..." your words drift off as you start to move again, feeling him get hard again inside of you. "we are just getting started."
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thinkinonsense · 17 days ago
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WICKED
old man!logan howlett x young fem!reader
cw: cheating, heavy flirting, smut, kinda dark
authors note: i have no idea what came over me and i cannot explain it. also! gif credit to the amazing n talented @silverskyeline <333
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he never should've gone to the bar. never should've let you run your pretty mouth. most definitely never should've bought you that martini. every weekend he watches you seduce the men at the bar until one of them falls into your trap.
logan would scoff, mumbling something under his breath about how stupid that bastard must be. despite the fact that the only thing holding him back from your advances was the thick gold band on his finger, reminding him of where his loyalty should be.
"lovely seeing you here again, logan."
he loathed your wicked smile and how your voice sounded like rain fall. trying his best to avoid staring into the eye of the storm but your presence demanded to be seen. practically ripping his hazel gaze off the wooden table and over to that tiny dress you were wearing. dark navy tight against your skin in a way that could make any man sin.
"missed ya' last weekend." you purr. "where were you at?"
"home." he states, gruffly.
"that's boring. why were you at home?"
"wedding anniversary."
the words made your tummy flip with excitement. you didn’t know much about logan outside of his favorite brands of alcohol, but you did know that he had a wife at home. he never mentioned her by name. sometimes, she would call the bar if it was “too late” for him to be out but other than that, she was a ghost.
“cute. you should bring her here one weekend.” you propose, almost making logan choke on his whisky. “bet she would love to see where you run and hide at night.”
“it’s not her kinda scene.” he responds.
“aw, i’m sure we would be friends.”
“doubtful.”
“and why’s that?” you fake pout.
logan leans in close before whispering, “don’t think she would appreciate you beggin’ for her husband to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom every weekend.”
“i didn’t say we would stay friends.” you giggle, making his cock stir in his work pants. “also, the invite is still open if you miss fuckin’ someone younger.”
the second you are out of sight, off in the pool room next door annoying some other asshole, he groans under his breath. logan hated how well you read him. you knew he wanted you but you were smart enough to make him come crawling to you if he wanted to feel your tight cunt wrapped around him.
after a couple minutes, a few men left the room and logan got up to take their place. when he walked inside he saw it was empty except for you sitting in one of the chairs on your phone.
“glad you decided to join me.” you smile up at him.
logan ignores you instead going over to get a stick and start playing. you finish your martini and join him as he sets up the balls. catching you off guard, he tosses you a stick too.
“if i win, you leave me alone for good.” he huffs in your face.
“sure but what do i get when i win?” you smirk.
logan ignores your question and growls, “ladies first.”
it's dead silent as you bend over the pool table to line your stick up to the diamond. logan's far too busy staring at the wet spot on your light blue panties. he never admit it, even if you knew for sure that's where his eyes were. it wasn't until he lost sight of the spot that he realized you already took your shot.
"your turn, old man." you tease, moving out of his way.
the two of you go back and forth for a bit but you were growing tired of this game. instead you decided to make things even more interesting.
"so when i win, are you going to finally fuck me?" your bluntness always left logan speechless.
"you already know the answer to that, sweetheart." he replies, trying to focus before shooting.
"sure, blah, blah, blah, something wife." you mock with an eye roll that almost made logan chuckle. "but seriously? when was the last time you two had sex? you probably got cobwebs in there."
that got a small smirk out of him. one that you count as a win.
"it's just a band. it comes off, see?" you lean over and take the ring off of his finger, placing it on the table.
logan stared at it for too long. feeling the distance of his commitments. you turn his head towards you with a light hook on his grey bearded chin. the lust in his eyes told you that you had won.
"you know what else comes off that easily?" you whisper, lips inches from his. "my panties."
a good man would've walked away. a good man would've returned home to his wife. but logan wasn't a good man. never had been and never would be.
an animalistic urge fell over him, grabbing you with the ease of a rag doll and bending you over the pool table. the wedding band was inches from your parted lips, moaning prettily as logan spread you open with his thumbs and licked a wide strip up your cunt, burying his face in your arousal and letting it coat his beard until he could only taste you.
"f-fuck me." logan groans, pulling back to catch his breath. "taste better than i imagined."
"knew you wanted me." you smirk, feeling his middle finger circle your entrance before pushing in. a loud moan is pulled from your throat as he hits that spongey spot with ease.
"weren't lying 'bout being tight." logan marvels, watching the way you suck in his finger.
he attempts to push in his ring finger as well and you wish you could've seen his face while he struggle to get it in. quickly, you reach for the wedding ring next to you then grab his hand from inside you. fumbling to get the ring back on him before he questions you.
"what are you—"
"go on." you coax, looking back at him with dark eyes. "try it now."
logan shouldn't have been so turned on from the image of his wedding ring coated in your slick; but here he was watching it disappear and reappear inside of you.
"right—fuck! r-right there..." you pant, arching farther back to meet his thrusts.
"does it turn you on being a homewreaker?" logan asks, back up on his feet and nibbling at your ear. "knowing that you have a old married man fucking you with his wedding band on?"
"mhm..." you mumble against the table. he takes the opportunity to pick up his pace, feeling you clench down. "d-don't stop..."
within seconds, your gushing around his fingers and dripping down his hand. right when he pulled out of you, you turn around and push him back into one of the plush chairs to undo his belt. falling to your knees, you begin to stroke him, tracing his veins with your tongue and tapping the tip on it.
"always knew you had quite the mouth on ya', princess." he grunts with a fist full of your hair.
you smile, taking him all the way until his tip hit the back of your throat and the hairs at his base tickled your nose. logan was finding it harder and harder to control his animalistic urge while your gagging and drooling all over his lap. quickly, you release him with a pop and stand up to straddle him, lining him up to your entrance and sinking down slowly.
"shit, you're so fucking tight." he says, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.
"only for you, logan." you whine, grinding down on him, rocking back and forth.
roughly, logan pulls the rest of your dress off of you, throwing it on the floor somewhere behind you. large hands touching you all over in ways you've only dreamt of. meanwhile, your attacking his neck like a madwoman. biting and marking him up like he's yours.
desperately, logan fucks up into you, needing more. his tip nudges that sweet spot within you, making you moan loudly in his ear, encouraging him to go faster. so focused on the squealing of your soaked pussy. he captures your lips, kissing you tenderly. you can feel his high approaching, twitching inside of you, and you needed to do one last thing before it hit him.
carefully you pull away, gripping his chin and pulling him face to face with you. his eyes are blown out with desire as he stares at you.
"tell me your mine, lo." you whisper against his lips.
logan can feel you clench tightly around him, waiting for him to give into you completely. he presses his thumb down on your button, moving in fast circles to get you there with him.
"f-fuck, i'm yours, baby." he moans, coating your walls with spurts of his release. "i'm yours."
"t-that's right." you moan, kissing him roughly as your high washes over you.
"you look so pretty like this." he coos, watching the pleasure run over you.
for a moment the two of you sit still, trying to catch your breath. logan's mind races, not meaning to cum inside of you but it's far too late now.
"lets keep this a secret between the two of us, huh?" he says while you play with his hand, mischievously. before he can notice, you pocket the ring.
"sure thing, baby." you reply. "i'll gladly be your little secret but have fun explaining those marks to the old ball and chain."
logan looks down at you and that wicked smile of yours, only to realize just how fucked he is.
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