hello may i request a logan x reader fic where they co-parent and take care of laura? it can be in an au where laura goes to school but she keeps getting herself into fights and stuff. Just thought it’ll be cute to see a family dynamic between them hehe
little family | old man logan
an: keep the old man logan requests coming 😫 i love dilfs
mutant!reader (again, same as logan 😍)
You were at work at the local library when you got a call about Laura. The young girl had gotten into another fight. She was truly a spitting image of her father. You apologized to your manager and excused yourself so you could go meet Logan at the school. Your relationship with Logan had come to an end, but you still cared deeply for each other and for Laura.
You finally made it to the school parking lot where you coincidentally parked next to Logan’s car. You headed inside the school and from the entrance you could hear loud talking coming from the main office. It was Logan’s voice so you followed it.
Laura sat outside the main office in the chairs that were neatly arranged in a row. She looked at you then ran to you in need of her mother.
“Are you hurt?” You crouched down to her level and inspected her face for cuts or bruises.
Laura shook her head. “No.”
“Was the boy being mean again?” Laura had told you about a boy that kept picking on her. Laura nodded.
You were glad she wasn’t injured. Now it was the principal you had to deal with. You told Laura to stay outside while you confronted the principal.
“How are you sure that Laura was the one to start the fight? The other kid could’ve swung first!” Logan raised his voice.
“Sir, this is the fourth grade. No kid should be ‘swinging’ their fists in the first place. We suggest you and your wife talk to Laura and perhaps look into other schools. Her teacher described her as unhinged and we can’t have—” the principal said.
“Excuse me?” You spoke. All eyes were on you now. Laura had poked her head into the office wanting to see what was going to happen. “Laura is perfectly fine. She doesn’t need this school. Don’t ever talk about my daughter like that ever again.”
Logan could see your claws slowly coming out of your knuckle as you approached the counter. He held you back by grabbing your wrist. “Let’s go.”
Just as Logan was guiding you out the door, the principal spoke again. “What is wrong with you people?!”
“Fuck off!” You and Logan shouted at her as you exited the office, Laura followed you with a small smile on her face.
Your little family of three headed outside. You were sure Logan wasn’t bringing her back to school. Maybe it was time to homeschool Laura. . .
“I can take her if you want to go back to work.” Logan said, taking out a flask from his jacket. He never really did care about school anyway.
“It’s fine. You can go back.” He exhaled, putting the flask back in his jacket.
“Actually, why don’t we go get ice cream? We haven’t done that in a while.” You suggested. Laura immediately turned to Logan and started pulling at his jacket. She loved going out with you and Logan for ice cream.
“Yeah . . . That’s . . Yeah, we could do that.”
So Logan drove in his car while you drove yours with Laura in the passenger seat to the nearest ice cream shop. At the shop, you told them about all the workplace drama and some new books you thought Laura might.
“You three are such a lovely family!” An elderly woman gushed when she saw you. “How long have you and your husband been married? I just celebrated fifty five.”
Before you could correct her about your marital status, Logan spoke up.
“Twenty five years, although it feels as if we’ve been married all this time.” He grabbed your hand from under the table and squeezed it.
“How adorable.” The woman said before saying goodbye and leaving the shop.
Laura looked at you and Logan with a smirk.As she was about to say something, Logan quickly stopped her.
“Just shut up and eat your ice cream, kid.” All you and Laura did was laugh. You loved your little family to death.
Can I request some hung with old man Logan? Something domestic or soemthing like reader baking for him. I love reading fics of Logan and reader being an old married couple
just the two of us | old man logan
an: anon ily for this request old man Logan needs more love <3 credit to pinterest for the gif btw this doesn’t follow the logan storyline so i added laura hope that’s ok!! sorry if there’s an spelling mistakes!
reader and logan live in a nice little cozy home because i said so 😍
“Taste.” You held the wooden spoon up to your husband’s mouth. Logan sighed, he knew you weren’t going to let him walk away without tasting the brownie batter so he licked the spoon.
For a while you had been craving brownies. While Logan was out working, you and Laura drove to the city to pick up the ingredients to make brownies. It was a fun small girls trip until it was time to come back home. Laura had helped you mix everything together until she got tired, she then decided to go up to her room to watch cartoons. You continued working on the brownies by yourself, that’s when Logan had arrived from work and now here you were giving him a taste test.
“So?” You waited for an answer.
“Bub, you are the best baker in this whole town, city, state, planet.” Logan was going to dip his finger in the batter until you slapped it away.
“No! You’re going to wait like the rest of us, but I did tell Laura she could have the first brownie so just wait.” You told him.
Logan groaned and walked to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. “How was your day?”
Logan always asked about you day. It didn’t matter if you stayed home and read a book or did some gardening, he wanted to know.
“Good. Laura and I read a new book, we went to buy ingredients to make brownies and now my old man is home so I’d say it’s been a pretty good day.” You started to pour the brownie batter into a pan.
He didn’t mind you calling him old man, in fact, he loved it. Yeah, he wasn’t as young as he used to be, but you still loved him. You did admit to him many times that the grey hair was a turn on for you, which made him laugh.
Before you could react, Logan quickly dipped his finger in the batter and licked it clean.
“James! Don’t you dare do it again!” You scolded him. “These are for Laura too.”
“Come on, Laura’s not going to know that I ate some batter,” Logan leaned on the counter next to you. “I’ve been thinking. .”
“Oh no, that’s concerning.” You teased, finishing up with the brownies and putting them in the oven. You turned to face him then wrap your arms around him, bring him closer to you.
Logan chuckled at your response. “I’ve been thinking about taking you and Laura to some place nice. We can do that family shit you always talk about.”
You laugh at his choice of words. “Family shit, yeah that’s what I said.”
“Tomorrow then, I’ll drive us to the nicest place you’ve ever seen, get some ice cream, watch a movie, whatever you want.” Logan leaned in closer, you doing the same.
Before your lips could touch, Laura interrupted you asking about the brownies.
“Not yet, my love, I just put them in. I’ll call you when they’re done,” You pulled away making Logan groan. Laura nodded then ran up to her room. You noticed the frown on his face so you quickly gave him his after work kiss. “Don’t be so sad, old man, the neighbor’s kid wants to have a sleepover with Laura this weekend so it’ll just be the two of us.” Logan definitely liked the sound of that.
Half an hour later, the brownies were ready. Laura took several with her to her room while you and Logan took a plate outside to the patio where your porch swing was. It was a beautiful evening, it wasn’t too hot or too cold, and now you were ending the night beside your husband eating some homemade brownies.
“I think Laura is going to ask you for a dog.” You mention, scooting closer to Logan and laying your head on his chest. You held a brownie up to him so he could take a bite.
“No, we are not getting a dog.” He said.
“It would be nice, you know . . .” You bit the brownie after Logan.
“Is this why you made brownies? You want me to get you and Laura a dog?” He looked down at you.
Ain't that the truth. The thing is, HE wouldn't sleep (Frank doesn't believe in napping even though he unintentionally falls asleep all the time) but if you needed a nap he'd get you SMOOSHED against him in bed, that big ol' arm of his draping halfway down your body and cupping your ass and he'd just kinda pat it slowly till you fell asleep. And even if you started stirring 20 mins later he'd slightly adjust you and go right back to patting and get you asleep for another 20 mins lol. He's had experience with newborns and he'd use it against you. You'd wake a groggy, disheveled mess 2 hours later and swat at him like "Frank I told you not to let me sleep past 25 minutes!" and he'd shrug and say "You needed longer doll, trust me"
how do you think frank would react to you just begging to climb into his lap and kiss his face a million times. like it doesn’t even have to go anywhere (but obviously i am not objecting) but just your hands in his hair and your cheeks feel the scruff on his face and you’re just snuggling yourself closer to him and engulfed in every ounce of his scent and more kisses here and more kisses there and extra kisses on his nose yk?????
lol I know EXACTLY what you mean. Like no matter how close you get it doesn't feel close enough and you just wanna be inside him lolol.
I think the first time you did it, Frank would be blushing! Like how is someone that obsessed with him? You'd have Frank Castle giggling I swear-- just his big hands engulfing your waist as you hold his huge head in your hands and pepper him in kisses as he's moving his head back and forth like you're a dog licking his face lolol. He'd try to return the affection but you'd stop him like "No, I'm not done!" as you re-initiated the kissing.
The thing is, his face is so kissable. He's got a huge head which is begging to be cradled and hello-- his NOSE and his jaw and his neck and his eyebrows.
From there on out, Frank would fucking love it-- sitting on the couch and patting his thigh for you to climb on, already a huge grin on his face. He'd give it a name, like "facesmashing" and he'd say "alright, c'mon baby, get your facesmashes out"
contents! basically just porn, pet names, riding, unprotected sex p in v, smut (so the usual warnings)
notes: I couldn't sleep and since I'm in my smut era I decided to train a little and write this pure filth car sex with dean...
word count: 1k
The air was thick with whiskey and tension. The neon lights of the bar had barely faded in the rearview mirror before Dean had you in his lap, hands feverish, mouth desperate, hips already rolling up into you. The Impala’s leather creaked beneath you as he pulled you closer, his rough palms spreading wide over your thighs, your hips, your ass—gripping, kneading, taking.
“Fuck, princess,” he groaned against your lips, his voice wrecked with want. “I shoulda taken you right there in the damn bar. Had you bent over that fuckin’ table—”
You whimpered at his words, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging as you ground down against the thick, hard press of him beneath his jeans.
It had started with a few too many drinks, a few too many stolen glances across the table. Sam had been oblivious, focused on his beer, but Dean? He’d been watching you all night with that look—the one that said he was barely holding it together. The one that promised he’d ruin you the second he got the chance.
And now, he was following through.
His hands pushed up your shirt, rough fingertips dragging across your stomach before palming your breasts, thumbs rolling over your already sensitive nipples. He swallowed your gasp with his mouth, tongue pushing deep, kissing you filthy as he rocked up against you.
“Christ, look at you,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to drag his gaze over you. Your lips were swollen, your breath coming in needy little gasps, your body already begging for more. His pupils were blown wide, his jaw tight as his hands traced back down, slipping under your skirt—
No patience. None.
“Fuck—no panties? Jesus, princess.” His voice was pure sin, husky and low, his fingers pressing between your slick folds. “You knew this was gonna happen, huh?”
You barely managed to nod, too lost in the feeling of his fingers rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit before dipping lower, teasing your entrance. His smirk was dark, pleased.
“Goddamn perfect,” he muttered, slipping one thick finger inside you, then another, stretching you slow before curling just right. “Dripping for me. So fuckin’ good for me.”
You moaned, forehead dropping to his shoulder as his fingers worked you open, the slick sounds obscene in the quiet of the car. His other hand gripped your ass, pressing you down against his cock, dragging you over him.
“C’mon, baby, let me feel you,” he groaned, pulling his fingers away just long enough to fumble with his belt, his zipper—
And then he was there, thick and hard and burning hot as he guided you down onto him.
Your mouth fell open, a breathless, broken moan escaping as he stretched you wide, filling you up so goddamn deep you swore you could feel him in your throat. Dean cursed, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, his head falling back against the seat as you both fought for air.
“Holy fuck,” he growled, fingers digging in, barely holding himself back from pounding up into you. “You’re fuckin’ perfect. So tight—so goddamn warm, sweetheart. Always so fucking perfect for me. You're so unbelievable, just— made for me.”
The praise sent a shudder down your spine, your walls clenching around him.
“Fuck—do that again,” he groaned, eyes flickering open, half-lidded and burning with something possessive. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ good. My girl—my perfect girl.”
You whimpered, bracing yourself against his shoulders as you started to move. It was slow at first, rolling your hips, grinding against him—just enough to feel every inch of him dragging against your walls, every delicious friction.
But it wasn’t enough.
You needed more.
Dean could feel it too.
“Shit, baby, you gotta move,” he gritted out, his fingers flexing against your hips. “I need you to—fuck, just—”
And then he took over.
He slammed you down onto him, setting a brutal, relentless pace, fucking up into you with deep, desperate thrusts. The Impala’s windows fogged, the whole damn car rocking with each movement. You were a mess above him—moaning, gasping, nails raking down his arms as pleasure coiled tight, your body burning, on fire, completely lost in him.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he praised, voice wrecked. “So fuckin’ beautiful like this—so goddamn good for me.”
His mouth was everywhere—your neck, your chest, your shoulder—biting, licking, sucking marks into your skin as he fucked up into you, dragging you closer, deeper, as if he could somehow bury himself completely inside you.
Your legs trembled, pleasure winding tighter, heat pooling low, and Dean knew.
“C’mon, baby, let go,” he urged, his hand slipping between your bodies to rub your clit, fast and filthy and perfect. “Come on my cock—lemme feel you, princess.”
You shattered.
The orgasm hit like a lightning strike, your body clamping down around him, your cry swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you through it. Your whole body trembled, pleasure washing over you in wave after wave.
Dean cursed, his grip tightening, his thrusts turning rough and erratic as he chased his own release.
“Fuck—gonna fill you up, baby,” he groaned, his voice tight, desperate. “Gonna come so fuckin’ deep—fuck, fuck—”
With one last thrust, he buried himself inside you, spilling into you with a deep, broken moan, his hands gripping you like he’d never let go.
The car was silent except for your ragged breaths, the windows fogged, the scent of sex thick in the air. You could still feel him inside you, still feel the aftershocks rolling through both of you.
Dean let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against yours. A slow, satisfied grin tugged at his lips.
“Goddamn, baby,” he murmured, voice rough with affection. “I ain’t ever gettin’ enough of you.”
You laughed breathlessly, tracing your fingers over his sweat-damp skin.
“Good,” you whispered, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to his lips. “Because I’m not done with you yet. So you'd better hurry up to the motel.”
Dean groaned, already hardening again inside you.
“Fuckin’ love you.”
𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
tags: only for my sweetie @blossomingorchids !! (I'm not tagging anyone else because since this is just smut I don't know who would want to be tagged. If you want to be tagged eventually even if it's just smut let me know <3)
Pairing: worst!logan howlett x f!reader
Summary: When you, Domino, Logan, Deadpool and Cable went on a chaotic mission and Cable accidentally hurt you, Logan’s protective fury comes out, escalating team tensions.
Warnings: slightly violence, blood, injury, English isn’t my first language :)
Word count: 807
A/N: I just love worst wolverine and protective logan, so i had to write this.
mdni 𖤐 18+
The mission was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out—grab the stolen mutant teach and get out before anyone noticed. At least, that was the plan as Domino had explained it, her voice smooth and confident, as if working with the likes of Deadpool and Logan wasn’t a recipe for disaster.
You weren’t even halfway through the mission before it went to hell.
“Shit,” you gasped, clutching your ribs as the world swam around you.
You clutched your side, your fingers pressing against the deep gash left by Cable. The wound throbbed, and though you tried to breathe through the pain, every inhale felt like fire.
Logan stood in front of you, his claws dripping crimson, his body tense. Everything froze for a moment. Then Logan’s voice cut through the haze, low and dangerous. “What the hell did you just do?”
“It’s fine,” you rasped, trying to sound convincing even as blood trickled down your side. “I’m okay—”
“No, you’re not,” Logan snapped, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His eyes flicked to the blood staining your shirt, and his jaw tightened. “You’re injured, and it’s all their fault.”
With a feral snarl, he lunged at Cable, claws extended. Domino’s quick reflexes were the only thing that stopped him; she stepped between the two men, her hands raised. “Whoa, whoa! Cool it, Logan! It was an accident.”
“Accident?” Logan spat, his voice trembling with fury. “She’s bleeding because of him!”
Deadpool sauntered into view, his katanas already sheathed, his red-and-black suit splattered with evidence of his handiwork. “Yeesh, Wolvie, chill out. We all make mistakes! Even the big Cable guy here, right handsome?"
Logan ignored him, still focused on Cable. “Wade, shut up!” Domino snapped, throwing him a withering glare before turning back to Logan. “Logan, we need to finish the mission. Get her out of here. We’ll deal with this later.”
Logan hesitated, his claws still extended as he glared at Cable.
“It wasn’t on purpose,” Cable said, his tone as calm as he could manage. “But if you want to waste time settling this now, go ahead. Meanwhile, reinforcements are on their way, and she’s losing blood.”
“Logan,” you started, your voice strained. "We’ve got the thing. Let’s just go." You said softly, stepping closer. “I’m okay. Really.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re bleeding all over the place. That’s not okay.”
“I’ll heal.”
“That’s not the point.” Logan turned back to you, his claws retracting with a snikt, though his hands remained clenched into fists.
He took another step forward, getting closer to the other man. “Next time, you think twice before touching her.” His voice was low and cold, a promise of violence barely held in check.
Deadpool clapped his hands together, breaking the tension with his usual flair. “Okay, great, let’s wrap this up before Wolvie loses what’s left of his brain cells. Dom, got the tech? Check. Pumpkin, still breathing? Check. Me, still incredibly handsome? Check. Let’s roll, people!”
With a final glare at Cable, he turned and knelt beside you, his movements careful as he slipped an arm around your shoulders. His hands were rough but surprisingly gentle. “Let’s get you out of here,” he muttered, his voice quieter now.
“You didn’t have to fight him,” you muttered as he helped you to your feet.
Logan didn’t respond right away. His face was set in a grim scowl. “He shouldn’t have touched you,” he said finally, his voice low and gravelly. “If he wasn’t on our side, he’d be dead already.”
You let out a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “You really know how to hold a grudge, don’t you?”
“Damn right I do,” Logan said, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “Especially when it comes to you.”
Ahead of you, Deadpool turned back, walking backward with a theatrical flourish. “What did I say, huh? Logan’s basically a rabid guard dog when it comes to Pumpkin. I love this dynamic.”
Logan glared at him. “Wade, shut it before I lose my patience,” He growled.
Deadpool threw his hands up in mock surrender, but the grin under his mask was unmistakable.
By the time the team emerged into the night, the tension had started to fade, though Logan’s scowl remained firmly in place. He didn’t say much as he helped you onto the team’s getaway vehicle, but the way his hand lingered at your back told you everything you needed to know. He might’ve been rough around the edges, but in your eyes, he was exactly who you needed him to be.
𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!
needy logan headcanons for when you're busy with work || suggestion by @hiddenavenues
pairing: logan howlett (wolverine) x genderneutral!reader
author note: let me know if you guys want me to make this into an actual fic!! also would love to make more headcanons in the future featuring logan or wade so please feel free to drop me an ask!
logan is always finding excuses to be near you. whether you're at your desk or working late on a project, he’ll casually drop by to “check on you.” his presence is comforting but undeniably distracting, as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, silently watching you with a smirk.
he knows what you like, so he starts bringing your favorite coffee or snack without being asked. it’s his way of saying, “i’m thinking about you,” but he never makes a big deal out of it. you finds little gifts like books, flowers, or even something practical you mentioned needing, left quietly in your space.
logan becomes extra touchy during this time. he’ll walk up behind you and rest his hands on your shoulders, rubbing away the tension, or casually brush a hand across your back. his hands linger just a bit longer than necessary, and there’s always a hint of possessiveness in his touch.
he'll randomly interrupt your work by stealing a kiss or ruffling your hair, knowing it gets a reaction out of you. if you try to shoo him away, he’ll grin and lean in closer, saying something teasing like, “you work too hard. take a break for me, darlin’.”
logan isn’t one for grand gestures, but he’ll leave handwritten notes in your workspace with short, gruff messages like, “missin’ you,” or “don’t forget to take a break.” sometimes they’re playful and flirty, other times they’re almost shy, revealing how much he hates being without your attention.
he takes on small tasks for you without you asking—picking up groceries, fixing something around the house, or even doing laundry. he doesn’t expect praise, but he secretly loves the idea that these small things might free up time for you to spend together.
despite all his gestures, there’s a simmering undercurrent of jealousy. if you mention spending time with someone else, logan’s demeanor will change slightly—his jaw tightens, and he might grip your hand a little harder. he doesn’t vocalize his jealousy much, but the possessiveness in his actions makes it clear.
when logan can’t have the your full attention, he’ll settle for watching you. his eyes follow your every move, as if committing every detail to memory. there’s an intensity in his gaze, a silent reminder of just how much he needs you.
whenever you do get a break, logan will immediately pull you into his arms, practically growling if you try to resist. he craves the physical connection, holding you tightly as if he’s making up for all the time you've been apart. he’s never been the type to ask for attention, but now, it’s obvious how much he needs it.
despite his rugged exterior, logan’s neediness shows a softer side. he’s not good with words, but you can tell he’s feeling a little insecure about being pushed aside. every gesture, touch, and note is his way of quietly saying, “miss you, need you.” even if he doesn’t say it out loud, the affection is constant and genuine.
summary: when your busy schedule leaves logan feeling neglected, he craves your attention in his own way—by showing up with small, thoughtful gestures and lingering touches that hint at his pent-up need. despite his rugged exterior, logan’s vulnerability shines through as he tries to remind you he’s still there, waiting.
word count: 1k
a/n: okay so this was originally a headcanon idea but this was my most popular headcanon so I definitely wanted to post it as a one shot! always feel free to leave an ask if you guys want anymore logan themed headcanons or fics!
Logan wasn’t used to being ignored. Or at least, not by you. It had been weeks since you’d been swamped with work, and while you appreciated his support, you couldn’t help but feel the strain on your relationship. He’d never say it, not out loud at least, but Logan was needy, and he craved your attention like nothing else.
The soft scratch of a pen met your ears, but you didn’t even look up from your laptop. Logan stood by the counter, lazily scribbling something on a piece of paper. He’d been in and out of your office all day, never staying long but always making his presence known. His scent—musky, earthy, all Logan—lingered long after he’d leave. It used to comfort you, but now it only reminded you of the time you couldn’t give him.
You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Logan, I’m really busy.”
Without missing a beat, he crossed the room and placed a steaming cup of your favorite coffee on the desk. His fingers lingered, brushing against yours as he slid the cup toward you. You glanced up and caught the faintest smirk on his lips.
“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” he grumbled, leaning in closer. His warm breath fanned over your cheek, and you could feel the tension melt from your muscles, despite how desperately you needed to focus. “Been workin’ too hard.”
“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrayed you. The way his hands rested on your shoulders—rough yet tender—sent shivers down your spine. He started massaging the knots in your shoulders, his fingers kneading the tension from your overworked muscles. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this—missed him—until now.
“You need a break, darlin’,” Logan muttered, his voice low and rough, sending a familiar heat through your body. “Can’t have you burnin’ out on me.”
You chuckled, but the sound was weak. “I’ll take a break soon, I promise.”
Logan let out a soft grunt, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. But instead of arguing, he pulled back, leaving a small note on the corner of your desk before disappearing from the room. You picked it up, your heart softening at the sight of his messy handwriting: Missin’ you. Don’t forget to take a break.
For a moment, you considered following him. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. But you had deadlines to meet, work piling up faster than you could keep up with. You’d make it up to him later—at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.
The next few days were more of the same. Logan was always around, but never directly demanding your attention. He’d leave notes scattered around your workspace—short, sweet messages like Thinkin’ ‘bout you or We’re overdue for some time together. He brought you food, sometimes your favorite meal, other times just a snack to keep you going. He’d make excuses to touch you, his hands lingering on your back or brushing against your arm as he walked by.
But you noticed the shift. His touches were growing more possessive, more intense, as if he was trying to remind you that he was still here, waiting for you to give him the attention he so desperately needed.
One evening, you returned home from a long day at work, exhausted and drained. You dropped your bag by the door and collapsed on the couch, barely managing to kick off your shoes. Within seconds, Logan was beside you, pulling you into his lap without a word.
“Logan, I’m—”
“Shh.” His arms wrapped around you, and you could feel the weight of his need in the way he held you, so tight you thought he might never let go. “You’re always busy, darlin’. Let me take care of you.”
The frustration in his voice was clear, but so was the affection. He wasn’t angry—he was hurt. Hurt that you hadn’t been giving him the time he needed. You felt a pang of guilt as you melted into his embrace, feeling the heat of his body against yours.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. His heart thudded steadily beneath your ear, a comforting sound that you hadn’t realized you’d missed. “I’ve been so caught up in work, I didn’t mean to—”
“Stop apologizin’,” Logan interrupted, his voice softer than before. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. “Just... don’t do it again, alright? I miss you.”
You nodded, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. Logan wasn’t the type to openly express his emotions, but the way he held you now—tight, protective, needy—said more than words ever could.
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair. “I’ve been patient,” he muttered, his voice rumbling through his chest. “But I need you. Not just here, but with me. You get what I’m sayin’?”
“I do,” you replied softly, shifting to look up at him. His eyes met yours, and you could see the raw emotion swirling in them—jealousy, frustration, but above all, love. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”
Logan grunted, but this time there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Guess I can forgive you, but only ‘cause I know how hard you’ve been workin’. Just don’t make a habit of it.”
You laughed, feeling the tension in your chest ease. “I’ll try not to.”
He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that made your heart race. You could feel the heat of his need, the way he poured every bit of his pent-up affection into the kiss. It was almost overwhelming, but in the best way possible.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I’m not gonna stop remindin’ you I’m here,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You’re mine, darlin’. Don’t forget that.”
You smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “I won’t forget.”
For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to relax completely in his arms, savoring the warmth of his touch and the strength of his embrace. Logan wasn’t one to be needy often, but when he was, it only made you fall harder for him.
And maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what you needed too.
I feel like this fandom often forget how insanely WEALTHY this man:
Actually is. He's kinda rich, right? Wrong.
This cherry pie:
Is a MULTI-BILLIONAIRE. This would let him comfortably sit at Forbes 985th, ladies and gentlemen, that's the same net worth as Michael Jordan.
I know that he doesn't like to show off his money because his mother only cared about it and neglected him, and I know he's the one founding all the high tech gadgets for the X-Men + to the mansion and the planes.
However.
WHERE ARE ALL THE FICS ABOUT HIM SPOILING ROTTEN HIS BOYFRIEND?! not like Erik would accept it straight away, but I need them to talk about and Charles making sure Erik knows he's worthy it and that it's okay to accept love and gifts.
WHERE ARE THE FICS ABOUT HIM NOT HAVING A CLUE THAT MOST PEOPLE CONSIDER NORMAL ABOUT MONEY?! I'm sorry, as neglected you may be, there's no way you inherit 3,5 BILLIONS and has a realistic view on how most people handle money, let alone poor people. This man is the 1%, he's the rich that the liberals want to eat (erik, not like that-). He's self aware and he tries to police himself, but I need to see the reality checks every now and then. Besides, a lot of his students came from really shitty places and the class difference would be screaming sometimes.
ACTUALLY, NOT JUST ERIK, I NEED TO SEE HIM GIVING PEOPLE STUPIDLY EXPENSIVE GIFTS IN GENERAL. Sometimes just because he can and there's no reason why not, sometimes he doesn't realize it's that expensive, and then I digress to my previous point.
WHERE ARE THE SUGAR DADDY FANFICTIONS?!
There's also this website I found that claims he has 125 BILLION DOLLARS but I highly doubt that:
Ladies and gentlemen, that website was ranking characters from DC and Marvel, and they put him above Tony Stark (80 billion) and Bruce Wayne (100 billion). I have no idea where they took that information from, but that would make our adorable lab rat the 10TH MOST WEALTHY MAN on the planet as of 2024.
Omg, the subtitle got Erik's name wrong-
This was a Charles' bank account appreciation post, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
UPTADE: Guys, I found the perfect fanfic for it and I cannot recommend this enough. Downtown (everything's waiting for you) by so_shhy
Synopsis: “Charles is a rich CEO, Erik is a hooker with a heart of gold...
(In other words, Pretty Woman AU)”
Fun fact: I found that marvelous fanfiction while looking for “Charles Xavier being an asshole” tag.
ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and other things that go bump in the night!
pair: logan howlett x fem!reader
wc: 4.5k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, resident bestie diva wade wilson, matching costumes ofc, established relationship, p in v, semi-public sex (bathroom), rough sex, mirror sex, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, light degradation, light hair pulling, light choking, nasty dirty breeding kink (@guiltyasdave infected me with the breeding kink disease...it's all her fault), 4k words for straight up porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.
nat’s note: happy halloween! sort of...i obvi couldn't wait to post this until the actual day cause i have absolutely zero patience so here you go! i thought up this idea in the middle of the night and literally got out of bed to start it. it's a nasty self indulgent mess...hope you love it! kisses <3
cutie divider by icon @saradika-graphics!
you and logan have some fun at wade's halloween party...
Unsurprising to no one, Wade Wilson knows how to throw a party.
Every year since the two of you became neighbors, you’ve gotten a gaudy invitation decorated with cartoon bats and devils slipped under your door just in time for Halloween.
Of course, it’s always in some cheesy font, red and glittery. A crappy pun about “scaring up some fun with your favorite mercenary” with a return address listed as ‘Hell’s Playground’ inscribed on the front.
It's awful. You haven’t missed one yet.
And not just because you’re a sucker for free booze and cheap decorations. It’s like tradition now, you can't have your perfect attendance streak cut off four years in. That's just bad manners.
Besides, this is the first year you’ve gotten to do a couples costume.
“I look fuckin’ ridiculous,” Logan mutters, deep voice laced with irritation as he messes with the wolf ears perched awkwardly on his head. “Can’t believe I let you drag me to this thing.”
You don’t turn to face him, but you can still see the frown tugging his lips down in your mind. Logan’s never been one for costumes, but his options were either dress up or stay home while you went and had fun without him.
He was dead set on staying at home for most of the day.
One look at the frilly white bloomers that came with your costume and he changed his tune.
“Quit being such a baby,” you toss over your shoulder, pouring your second cup of whatever Wade mixed together in the mini cauldron sitting on his bar. “You look great, babe.”
He really shouldn’t complain, his costume is barely a costume. An old flannel with the sleeves ripped off and some mangy jeans.
The fake ears and tail were a struggle and a half to get him on board with, but Logan’s all bark and no bite. He was more than willing to roll over and show you his belly after enough begging.
Logan scoffs, big hand pawing at your hip to drag you to his side. “You owe me for this,” he rumbles low in your ear, the playful threat sending a shiver down your spine.
“You’ll survive,” you tease, a smug grin spreading across your face as you tug playfully on the tail clipped to his belt loop. “Unless you wanted to switch?”
Logan’s eyes drag over your body shamelessly, all the way from the floppy sheep ears sitting on your head to the lacy white corset and matching bloomers that do little to hide your curves.
You don’t miss the way his eyes darken, how he runs his tongue along the sharp point of his canines like he wants to sink his teeth into you.
It sends a familiar heat coursing through your veins, warming your insides just as much as the vodka with a hint of mixer you’ve been sipping at.
You start to wish you shelled out for the fake fangs at the party store.
Logan tugs you closer, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smirk. “Not a chance in hell,” he rasps, voice dipping a couple octaves lower. “Looks better on you, baby.”
You hum idly as his arm snakes around your waist, fingers splayed along your lower back, inching dangerously close to the swell of your ass.
“You better behave,” you chastise, though it’s more playful than stern as you look up at him through your lashes. “We’re in public.”
Logan’s grip tightens, a soft grunt leaving him as he leans in, nosing along the side of your face. “Doesn’t seem like much of a party when all I’m thinkin’ about is how fast I can get you outta this damn costume.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks, the warm puff of his breath over your skin makes your knees feel weak. You try to keep your cool, but it’s hard when he’s practically radiating heat and that intoxicating scent of leather and pine fills your senses.
Before you can respond, a loud call of your name grabs your attention.
"There you are!" Wade shouts from across the room, already making his way towards you.
All six foot two and half inches of him is wrapped in blue and white lace, paired with a matching hoop skirt that bounces with every step he takes. His shepherd's staff thuds against the floor when he comes to a stop in front of you. “Fashionably late, I see.”
“We’ve been here for thirty minutes,” you point out, brow cocked as you take in his costume. “Where’ve you been?”
“I’m the hostess with the mostest, honey bunny,” he says, throwing his arm out to gesture towards all the dressed up guests crammed into his living room. “Can’t spread myself too thin.”
He eyes Logan's wolf ears and fake tail, then turns back to you, wiggling his brows suggestively.
"Kinky,” he comments, flicking the little gold bell hanging from the choker around your neck. “You two just couldn’t resist a little predator-prey roleplay, huh? Should I be worried about you getting all ‘Animal Planet’ on my couch?”
Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his mouth brushing your ear as he mutters, “I’m gonna kill him before midnight.”
“Now, now, big bad wolf, no need to huff and puff and blow my skirt up. We’re all here to have a howl of a time!” Wade continues, undeterred. “Plus, if you behave, I might just let you keep your sheep when the night’s over.”
You can practically feel Logan’s eye twitch, but you snicker, leaning into him just a little more. “Play nice, Wade,” you say, trying to smother your laugh. “The wolf might eat you first.”
“Please,’ Wade snorts, twirling his shepherd's staff deftly in his hand. “If that’s on the table, I’ll lay out the fucking fine china.”
Logan lets out a huff of air, dropping his hold on you and brushing past Wade with a grunt. "I'm gettin' another beer."
“Try not to stab anyone!” Wade shouts after him, loud enough to be heard over the Monster Mash blaring from the speakers. “Al might blow the whole complex if any more blood gets on the linoleum!”
Logan throws a middle finger over his shoulder as he disappears into the kitchen.
You watch him go, a grin plastered to your face at the way the tail swings with every step he takes. Something warm and fuzzy settles in your chest, blooming in the empty space of your ribcage.
You know Logan hates this–the people, the lights, the music, the costumes.
But he’s here anyway, for you.
Here wearing the stupid wolf costume you bought for him, surrounded by drunk people in inflatable dinosaur costumes and witches with dollar-store broomsticks. And despite all the grumbling, he hasn’t bolted for the door once.
All for you. And that makes your heart thump a little harder in your chest, your smirk softening into something sweeter.
"You’ve got him whipped," Wade deadpans, crossing his arms, the lace of his sleeves rustling as he does. “It’s really disgusting.”
You snort, shaking your head softly. "More like he's got a soft spot."
Wade eyes you skeptically. "Same thing, toots."
You hum noncommittally, turning back to him. “Cute outfit,” you comment, eyeing the white bonnet secured by a neat little bow under his chin.
“You like it?” Wade does a quick twirl, the blonde curls of his wig nearly slap you across the face as he does. “The guy at party city kept giving me weird looks, but I think he was just jealous of how well I fill in the blouse.”
You rake your gaze over him slowly, taking another slow sip from your cup. “The stockings are a nice touch, but don’t you think running around as Little Bo Peep will send some confusing messages.”
“Well, duh. That’s only the whole point, Sherlock.” Wade snorts, shaking his head like it’s obvious. “I’m way too emotionally invested in this relationship to not try and wiggle my way into throuple territory.”
You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. “A throuple? Hate to break it to you, Peep, but Logan doesn’t really strike me as the sharing type.”
Wade leans in conspiratorially, cupping a hand around his mouth like he’s letting you in on a secret. “That’s why I’m playing the long game. Gotta wear him down with my irresistible charm, and when he finally snaps, I’ll swoop in with a bottle of Jack and a promise of no strings attached.”
You shake your head, chuckling into your drink. “You’ve got it all figured out, don't you?”
“Oh, honey,” Wade purrs, winking at you with a dramatic flutter of his lashes, “I've got a five-year plan.”
You roll your head to the side lazily, sheep ears swaying as you do. “I’ll give you points for persistence.”
"Damn straight," he says with a grin, straightening his bonnet proudly. “This level of commitment takes stamina. And by the way, I’ve got great stamina. My record is thirteen.”
You raise your brow, intrigued. “Thirteen what? Rounds? Hours?”
“Wouldn't you like to know,” he scoffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. “I’m more than just a pretty face in a killer dress, thank you very much.”
You groan, giving him a light push. "You’re impossible."
Wade grins, leaning closer to throw an arm around your shoulders. “I’m just pulling your tail, Wooly. You know I’d never come between you and your beefy boy toy. I mean, look at him. He’s practically pacing the kitchen like a caged animal just looking at you in your slutty nursery rhyme getup. How pathetic.”
You turn to steal a glance at Logan, who’s leaned against the counter scanning the room from behind his beer bottle. You feel a thrill at the idea that he’s watching over you like a hawk, making sure no one gets too close, slowly working himself up over the mere sight of you.
But more than that, it’s the slight reluctant smirk tugging at his lips as he takes in the party. You can tell he’s managing to find some enjoyment in all this, even if he’d never admit it.
“Well,” Wade starts, dragging the word out slowly. “Since you’re all cozy over here with your alpha male, I’m gonna go find someone to share these…”
He holds up two shot glasses filled with some unidentifiable neon liquid, “…artisanal beverages with. Maybe that guy dressed like a merman. I’ve always wanted to see what's going on under those tails.”
You snort, raising your own cup to your lips. "You're awful."
“Only on the outside, sugar,” he says leaning down to kiss your cheek with a wet smack before flouncing away into the crowd, his skirt swishing as he goes. “Don’t fuck in my house without at least inviting me to watch!”
You laugh to yourself, watching as Wade fades into the crowd of gyrating bodies. You take another long sip, relishing in the familiar burn as it slips down your throat.
The laughter, the music, the chaotic energy of the party—it’s all intoxicating in its own right, but it’s nothing compared to the way Logan’s eyes are boring a hole through the back of your head.
You can feel his gaze like a tangible force, wrapping around you and drawing you in. Logan’s not just watching; he’s assessing, hungry for something that goes far beyond the Halloween festivities surrounding you.
The heat radiating from his gaze only intensifies your already buzzing anticipation, mixing dangerously with the two drinks swirling in your stomach, making you bolder.
You throw back the rest of your drink, setting the empty cup on the bar and making your way across the room. You weave through the crowd seamlessly, the music pulses around you, drowning out the laughter and chatter.
You feel a daring grin spread across your face as you saunter closer, reveling in the way Logan tracks your every move like a predator zeroing in on its prey.
When you’re finally standing in front of him, you lean against the counter, giving him a good view of the way your corset dips lower. The fabric hugs you in all the right places, teasing him with glimpses of your skin beneath the delicate lace.
"Looks like Little Bo Peep lost his sheep," he mutters, voice like gravel drenched in honey.
You smirk, tilting your head to the side innocently as you step around the counter. “Maybe I was already planning to run away, to go looking for a big bad wolf to play with.”
You slip two fingers through the belt loop at the front of his jeans, tugging him closer with a rough yank.
Logan’s goes willingly, taking a step closer. His breath hitches as he does, the hazel of his eyes darkening as you press your body against his, not letting an inch of space between you.
“You're really pushin it,” he warns lowly, hands finding your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to send a shiver cascading down your spine. "Makin’ me watch you run around in this fuckin’ thing.”
“Am I?” you reply coyly, fingers toying with the button of his jeans. “I’m just—” you start, but the words are swallowed by the thumping bass of the music as Logan’s lips crash against yours, silencing you with a hungry kiss.
His mouth moves against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless, and you can’t help but melt into him, feeling the world around you fade away.
The taste of beer mingles with the vodka on your tongue as you sink into the kiss, his hands tightening around you as he pulls you even closer.
“You have no fuckin’ idea how hard it is keepin’ my hands to myself,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy.
“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” you tease, biting your lip as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze. You can see the fire smoldering in his eyes, the predatory glint that makes your stomach flutter with excitement. “But maybe you could show me just how hard it really is.”
Logan lets out a low growl, and before you can blink, he’s snatching your wrist up and dragging you through the kitchen.
Laughter bubbles out from your chest as you trip over your own feet in an attempt to keep up with him. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, the warmth in your stomach dipping lower to leak sticky and wet between your thighs.
He’s not rushing, but there’s an undeniable urgency in his step, a raw need that makes your pulse race in sync with his heavy stride. Weaving you through the crowd and out into the hallway until the noise of the party gets lower and lower.
You’re familiar enough with the layout of Wade’s place to know where Logan’s taking you, the bathroom.
The door is hardly shut before Logan’s spinning you around and crowding you against the sink. His lips are on you before you can even catch your breath, rough and possessive, as if he’s been starving for this all night.
The kiss is rougher than before, dirty and all consuming as he claims your mouth. A mess of teeth and tongue and spit that sends your head spinning, body arching off the counter and into his instinctively.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he growls, trailing his lips down your neck, kissing and biting his way to your collarbone. “Drivin’ me so crazy, baby.”
You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his calloused fingers trace over the swell of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh with a possessive grip that makes your breath hitch.
Your arms circle his neck, dragging him down for more filthy kisses. The thick length of his cock pressing against your stomach insistently has you keening, a hard plane of scalding warmth even through the thick material of his jeans.
You let out a soft whimper as his fingers brush against your inner thigh, and he grins at your reaction.
He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "Bet you’re already soaked for me, aren’t you?" His voice drops even lower, a filthy rasp that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.
You don’t answer, can’t answer, because Logan’s already got his hand between your thighs, fingers teasing over the soft fabric of your bloomers.
His touch is feather-light, but it’s enough to have you gasping, head lolling back to expose even more of your neck to his fever hot lips.
He groans when he feels how soaked you are, his breath coming out in a rough exhale.
“Figures,” he grunts, his fingers pressing harder, rubbing slow circles over the slick fabric. “Could smell it on you from across the room. You’re fuckin’ drippin’ for me, baby.”
You whine, high in the back of your throat, chest heaving with every quick breath. Your legs spread, thighs widening like you can’t help it. His words send a wave of heat straight to your core, fanning the fire of need festering inside you.
“Next year we’ll get you in a skirt,” he says, nipping at your bottom lip teasingly. His fingers slip under your bloomers, running through your slick folds teasingly. “Easy access.”
You let out a breathless moan, your hips bucking against his hand, begging for more.
“Logan,” you whimper, but he just smirks, applying more pressure with his palm as he leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your ear.
“You like that, don’t you?” Logan rasps, his voice thick with desire. Dark tone laced with satisfaction as he dips one finger inside you, making your breath catch in your throat. “Look at you, drippin’ down my hand. You want more, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you nod frantically, your breath coming in shallow pants as he continues working you with skilled, relentless touches.
Two thick fingers plunged in your aching pussy, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clit. "Please," you whimper, gripping the edge of the sink so tight your knuckles turn with it, needing more, needing him to ruin you.
“Please what, honey?” he rasps, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You gotta be more specific.”
You grind against his hand faster, desperate for any kind of relief from the unbearable heat building between your legs. “I need you,” you breathe out, your voice trembling. “Need you to fuck me.”
Logan’s response is immediate. A low growl tearing its way from his throat as he gives your bottoms a rough tug, letting them fall down the length of your legs to pool at your ankles.
He slips his fingers out of you, ignoring your displeased whine and spinning you around to face the mirror, hands gripping your hips as he roughly bends you over the sink.
You find his eyes in the reflection, and the hunger there makes your pulse quicken. His lips are swollen, red and slick just like your own. Hazel eyes blown out and stormy, as he meets your gaze.
The fake whiskers and nose you drew on him before the party using an old eyeliner pen are smudged across the lower half of his face along with the red remnants of your lipstick. You have matching black marks scuffed along your cheeks.
"You’re gonna watch while I fuck you," he growls, popping the button of his jeans and pulling them down just enough to free his cock. He strokes himself once, twice, before lining up behind you, dragging the blunt head along your soaked entrance. "Don’t take your eyes off the mirror, baby. I want you to see what you do to me, what I get to see every fuckin’ time."
You nod breathlessly, eyes locked on his in the mirror as he pushes into you with one hard thrust. You gasp at the stretch, head falling to your chin at the pleasant burn of his cock.
"Fuck," Logan groans, his eyes glued to your reflection as he bottoms out inside you, the sheer size of him making your body tremble.
"Tight little fuckin’ pussy," he mutters, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to move, setting a brutal, unrelenting pace. "You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take my cock."
You can’t stop the moans that fall from your slack lips, pathetic little uh uh uh sounds that get punched out of you with every sharp thrust of his hips.
“Take me so fuckin’ well,” he growls, one hand coming up to grip around your throat, tugging meanly at the bell of your choker that rings as he pounds into you, each thrust harder than the last. “Such a good little sheep, lettin’ your mean old wolf fuck you like this.”
"Fuck," you moan, the sound broken and desperate as he drives deeper, the thick length of him hitting that spot that has your knees buckling beneath you. “God, Logan…”
“Look,” Logan commands softly, reverently. His lips brushing your shoulder with every word as he tilts your head back up to the mirror, making yourself watch as you take his cock. “Look at how fuckin’ pretty you are getting wrecked on my cock.”
Your reflection in the mirror is a mess—flushed cheeks, eyes glassy with lust, your lips parted in a constant stream of breathless moans. You feel embarrassment mixing with the arousal swirling through your stomach, thighs shaking wildly from the onslaught of pleasure.
The loud slap of skin on skin rings through the tiny bathroom, underscored by the wet gush of your pussy around him each time he buries himself in you.
If anyone were to walk by, they’d surely hear it. They’d know someone was getting fucked, really taking it. The thought alone has you tightening around Logan’s cock, velvety walls clenching around him desperately.
Logan notices, because of course he does, clever eyes picking up on the way your own drift to the door, lingering.
He threads his fingers through your hair, meanly yanking your head back to the mirror, a feral grin stretching across his face as he watches the way you fall apart for him.
“Want me to howl for you, baby?” he teases, breath hot against the shell of your ear. You can feel the way his lips curve into an evil grin at the pathetic whine that bursts from your lips, at the feel of your pussy drooling around him even more than before.
“She likes that, huh?” he chuckles darkly, his thumb finds your throbbing clit, rubbing tight circles as his hips speed up impossibly faster. “Dirty fuckin’ girl, you want everyone to know how good I’m givin’ it to you?”
You whimper, overwhelmed by the raw intensity of his words and the rhythm of his thrusts. Your thighs are trembling, barely able to hold you up as Logan takes you apart, piece by piece, with every deep, punishing stroke.
"Answer me," he growls, voice dripping with dominance as his hips snap against you, the head of his cock slamming into that perfect spot inside you again and again. "You want everyone to hear what a dirty little slut you are for me, huh? You want them to know how much you love being fucked like this?"
“Yes,” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as pleasure floods your system. "Yes, Logan, fuck—ah! Just—just don’t stop."
Logan growls, low and feral deep in his chest. It shakes through your body, rattling your bones just as much as the heavy smack of his metal laced pelvis against the raw skin of your ass.
“Greedy fuckin’ pussy, I can feel the way she’s sucking me in, baby,” he grits out, hips stuttering slightly. “She want my come, darlin’?"
You’re a mess of gasps and whimpers, nodding frantically as his words push you closer to the edge. Throwing your hips back to meet his thrusts as the spring inside you coils tighter and tighter, a hair's breadth away from snapping.
"Yes, please, Logan," you moan, your fingers digging into the counter as you brace yourself for the relentless onslaught of his cock. "I want it, want you to come inside me."
Logan’s hips stutter as he slams into you, his cock buried so deep inside you it feels like he’s splitting you in half. He’s close, his breath coming out in ragged pants as his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pressing against your pulse just hard enough to make you dizzy.
“You’re gonna come for me,” he growls, heavy balls slapping against your ass lewdly. “Gonna come all over my cock, aren’t you? And then I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna fuck my come so deep inside you, you’ll be beggin’ me to give you more.”
That’s all it takes for the coil in your belly to snap, pleasure surging through you in hot, uncontrollable waves. You cry out, your vision blurring as your body clenches around him, and Logan lets out a rough growl, driving into you harder, faster.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, dragging out every last second of your orgasm until you’re shaking, your voice hoarse from how loud you’re moaning.
“Goddamn, baby,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust as he keeps fucking into your trembling body. “You’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—gonna come so deep in you.”
Your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps, your entire body still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. But Logan isn’t finished. He used the fistful of your hair still trapped in his hand, tugging your head back to meet his wild gaze in the mirror.
“Eyes on me,” he commands, his pace growing erratic. “You want me to fill you up? Want me to come in this tight little pussy?”
“Yes, Logan,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely a whisper. “Please—I need it.”
With a deep, broken groan of your name, Logan slams into you one last time, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick. His fingers tighten on your throat, and you moan at the feeling of his cock pulsing, filling you up to the brim.
You can’t stop the whine that falls from your lips at the feel of his come spraying your insides, completely drenching you with it. So much that it just has to take.
A shudder runs through you at the idea, pussy clenching around his spent cock weakly.
Logan sighs contently, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he catches his breath, hands falling to your waist like it's the only anchor keeping him from floating away entirely.
For a moment, the only sounds in the room are your ragged breaths and the faint thump of the music outside bleeding through the walls.
Logan tips his head back up, meeting your hazy eyes in the fogged up glass of the mirror with a shit-eating grin. “Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” he says smugly, dropping a kiss to the sweaty skin of your shoulder.
You huff, rolling your eyes with a reluctant fondness. The thought of walking back out there makes your stomach turn, nerves and arousal churning together at the chance that everyone knows what you two were doing after disappearing for so long.
You only hope the white fabric of your bloomers is good enough at hiding the come already leaking from your pussy.
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: Logan helps you learn to ride his motorcycle. Amidst playful teasing and heartfelt moments, you both navigate the ride and discover that the real thrill is the time spent together.
THE SUN WAS JUST BEGINNING TO SET, casting a warm orange glow over the open road as you stood by the garage, anxiously eyeing the gleaming black motorcycle parked in front of you. It was a beast of a machine, all chrome and leather, looking as intimidating as the man who owned it. Logan stood beside you, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he handed you a helmet.
“You sure about this?” he asked, his gruff voice laced with amusement.
You gave him a determined nod, though your stomach was doing somersaults. “I can handle it,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt.
Logan chuckled, the sound deep and comforting, like warm honey. He leaned in close, brushing a soft kiss against your temple. “I know you can, bub. Just don’t want you to wreck my bike.”
You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him away. “Please, I’m more worried about wrecking me.”
With that, you threw a leg over the bike, settling into the seat. The leather was cool against your skin, and the handlebars felt solid beneath your hands. Logan watched you with an expression that was half-pride, half-amusement, like he couldn’t decide if he was more impressed or entertained by the whole situation.
“Alright, first things first,” he began, his tone shifting to something more serious. He stepped up beside you, his large hands covering yours on the handlebars. “Throttle’s here, brake’s there. And this”—he pointed to the lever—“is the clutch. Got it?”
You nodded, your heart racing as his breath tickled your ear. Having him this close, his presence so reassuring and strong, made you feel like you could take on the world. Or at least, this motorcycle.
Logan moved back, watching as you tried to start the engine. The bike roared to life beneath you, the vibration rumbling through your entire body. You couldn’t help the excited grin that spread across your face. Logan grinned back, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.
“Look at you,” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “Natural born biker, huh?”
You revved the engine a little, testing the feel of it, but your overenthusiastic twist of the throttle made the bike lurch forward, nearly throwing you off balance. You yelped, your foot slamming down on the ground to steady yourself. Logan burst out laughing, his deep, throaty chuckle filling the air.
“Okay, maybe not a natural,” you muttered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Logan was at your side in an instant, his laughter softening as he rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’re doin’ fine. Just ease up a little. The bike’s gotta trust you, same as you trust it.”
“Since when did you get so philosophical about motorcycles?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
He shrugged, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I’m a man of many talents.”
You snorted, but the nervousness was ebbing away, replaced by a sense of determination. You took a deep breath, tried again, and this time, the bike moved forward smoothly, rolling down the driveway under your control. Logan jogged alongside, his eyes fixed on you like he was ready to catch you at any second.
“There ya go! Nice and easy,” he coached, his voice warm and encouraging.
You rode in a small circle, slowly getting the hang of it. Your heart swelled with pride when you saw Logan’s approving nod. Feeling a bit bolder, you gave the bike a bit more gas, picking up speed.
“Alright, hotshot, don’t get too cocky!” Logan called out, but there was a note of pride in his voice.
You were doing it! You were actually riding a motorcycle! The thrill of it coursed through your veins, the wind whipping through your hair, the powerful engine purring beneath you. You glanced back at Logan, ready to flash him a victorious grin—
—and that’s when you saw the mailbox.
“Oh shi—” You swerved, trying to avoid it, but the bike wobbled, and before you knew it, you were tumbling off the side, landing in the grass with a thud. The bike tipped over, but thankfully, it wasn’t going fast enough to do any real damage.
Logan was by your side in an instant, his concern barely masking his amusement. “You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, trying—and failing—not to laugh.
You groaned, rubbing your bruised shoulder. “I think I’ll stick to four wheels.”
Logan chuckled, helping you up before pulling you into his arms. “You did good,” he murmured against your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe leave the mailbox out of it.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound muffled against his chest. “Maybe you could just drive, and I’ll hold on tight?”
Logan’s arms tightened around you, his voice softening to a rumble that you felt more than heard. “Darlin’, you can hold on to me anytime you want.” He tilted your chin up, his gaze locking onto yours, and the teasing warmth in his eyes made your heart flutter.
“You know,” you whispered, “I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”
He grinned, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss, the kind that made the world around you melt away until there was nothing but him. When he pulled back, there was a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Guess I’ll just have to keep teachin’ you,” he said, his voice low and playful. “Can’t let my girl be anything less than the best, right?”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Sure, Logan. Whatever you say.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and purple, you leaned into Logan’s side, the rumble of his laughter vibrating through you as you both stood there, the motorcycle forgotten. It didn’t matter that you’d wiped out on your first try. All that mattered was that you were with him, and together, there wasn’t a thing in the world you couldn’t face.
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