have I seriously created a secondary blog (and I don’t mean a sideblog. I’m talking about a whole, different account) just to quench my thirst because butch-fucking-Wolverine doesn’t seem to ever leave my mind. yeah
please send help, I’m desperate over here /lh
uhh I’m not sure I’ll ever post anything — aside from reblogs — so no rentry or carrd cuz I’m too lazy to make one, just don’t interact with this blog if you’re a minor or if you’re a pr0/c0mshipper. or a shitty person in any way. no specific DNI besides that ;P
pfp is from @/trubadui’s extremely pretty picrew ‹3
“one more word.” ~ butch!wolverine x ladypool!reader
this is just a wlw honda odyssey scene bc i need butch wolverine to be real. i also aimed to write them in character! give feedback babes plsssss
cw: outdated cultural references, fourth wall breaking, nsfw, blood, f!ngering, strap!sex, idk just lotta gay shit xx
wc: 4.3k...👁️👁️
"get. in the fucking. car."
"it'll get you there safe and sound!" nicepool reassures with a loving pat to the top of the grey honda odyssey. "lil betsy always does." his eyes then fall to dogpool, who is held tightly in your arms. "you're gonna have to give me my dog back, though..."
"i know," you reply matter-of-factly. "listen-" you start before mary puppins places a paw on your hand. "yes, child... if you ever want to give her up or if she needs a new home, or if something should happen to you, i'd love to be her mama."
nicepool only wheezes at your remark. "what would ever happen to me?"
"lots of stuff," you reply with a shrug, smiling innocently under your red mask.
as soon as he realizes your seriousness, his smile fades and looks to the older woman standing to his right in an ask for help. the wolverine lets out a huff as she pushes herself off the honda and moves to grab the dog from your grasp.
"n-no! we're running away- agh- the corn was too dense, girl!" you say in apologies to mary puppins and watch sadly as laura hands the you-variant over to the other, nicer-you-variant.
you begrudgingly get in the passenger seat of the shitty car, waving goodbye to dogpool. the obnoxious sound of you singing "we'll meet again" is muffled by the car windows as laura drives you both away.
time passes. maybe 15 minutes, maybe an hour. doesn't matter, reader— don't worry about it. you haven’t been paying attention to the time because you’ve been sneaking quick gazes at the wolverine in the driver’s seat to your left. the way her brown hair curls up on either sides of her head looks so cute. yet the way her large, gloved hands grip the steering wheel causes your mind to wander other places. all you know now is there’s been a lingering thought poking at your brain since you picked this wolverine up from that bar in her universe.
"okay i'm just gonna ask. what's with the suit? first thing i did when i flamed out: i took mine off."
"drop it." laura mutters.
"it's not that ugly..."
"stop talkin about my suit."
"did you make it yourself? been there!"
"quit. now." the tension in her voice is rising.
"the x-men make you wear it? those sons of fuckin bitches. they are not your friends, i'll tell ya that. friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the los angeles rams-"
"shut the fuck up about the suit," she snaps.
"woahwoahwoah watch your frown lines, angel baby." you back off, lifting your hands in a motion of surrender. "i'm just trying to bond a little bit-"
"yeah? well then talk about something else."
"fine!"
there's an uncomfortable silence between you two, only for a moment before you play around, making spiderman web motions with your gloved hands. you just can’t help but annoy the woman next to you, it’s too much fun. it’s like your duty as passenger princess.
"stop it," she snaps again soon enough.
"why? don't wanna get distracted seeing my fingers in this motion?" you tease, moving your middle and ring finger back and forth. laura only scoffs at the sexual innuendo. "ahh, the natural hand position of the sapphics." you turn to look out the car window and make eye contact with the reader. "is that why so many masc lesbians are obsessed with spiderman? i guess only earth-616 knows the correlation..."
and wait- if i'm supposedly you, the reader, but as ladypool-- then how am i breaking the fourth wall? gasp! a fourth wall break inside a fourth wall break... that's like- sixteen walls... am i talking to myself? or talking to myself? whatever. anyway i know why you're here, you slut. let's make conversation by pushing wolvie's buttons some more, yeah?
"if they could fix your world, what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get outta here? some rubbing alcohol shots? maybe a wiper fluid chaser?"
laura's gaze slowly turns to you. "what did you say?"
"i said when you get back, what's the first thing you're gonna do-"
"no no, before that."
"if-" you catch yourself. shit. "-they can fix your world?"
with an aggressive slam on the break, your seatbelt doesn't even have time to prevent your head from colliding with the dashboard. and as the car stops, you know there's nothing that can save you from the rage behind wolverine's tone.
"what do you mean if?" she asks through gritted teeth, body fully turned to face you.
"i mean-"
"you lied to me. you don't have a fucking clue if they could help me fix things. do you?"
"no, but i mean-" you start to defend yourself before three metal claws impale your thigh, and probably extend under you all the way through to your seat. "agh- fuck! fuck! i didn't lie!"
"you lied!"
"no! i made an educated wish!"
laura only tilts her head at your defense, eyebrows furrowing.
"because i need you," you continue as you unfold the photo that was in your pocket and hold it up for her to see. "this is why. right here. cause if we don't do something, they die. i don't know anything about saving worlds, and why would i even care? cause my entire world is right here in this picture. it's only nine people, and i have no idea how to save it alone. i know how to fuck people up for money but you- YOU know how to save them... at least the other wolverine did-" at that last comment, laura twists her claws in your thigh, striking enough pain for more curses to escape your mouth. "f-fuck! ah- i guess i'm stuck with the worst one-"
"did you just say you made an educated... fucking wish?"
"they call me the merc with the mouth. they don't call me truthful timmy the blowjob queen of sass catoo-"
the three metal blades are quickly removed from your thigh only to be brought up next to your face. laura's shaky breath exercises seem to be the only thing keeping her from slicing you apart.
"one more word... please, give me one." her guttural voice is a low warning. you wait a moment as if thinking to a random word generator in your brain.
"~gubernatorial~" you say simply before cowaring behind flailing arms when laura prepares to stab you in the face, only fake you out. her breaths are deeper, more steady as if she's trying to calm herself.
"you know what? you're a fucking joke... no wonder the avengers didn't take you, or the x-men or fuckin anyone. i mean you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. i have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering, little prick in my entire life. and that says a lot 'cause i've been alive for over two hundred fucking years." the volume in her voice begins to rise with each word, striking your emotions further and further as you sit there speechless, yet her anger keeps rising. "and i'll tell ya- that villain chick was right about one thing: you will NEVER save the world. you couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! and motherfucker i wish i could say you'd die alone, but it's one of GOD'S best jokes that you can't die! except that's all on all of US!"
she hits nerve after nerve. the pain in your chest hurts too fucking bad. you are not only speechless, you never want to speak again. you have millions of words to say yet none at all.
how fucking dare she bring up vanessa like that? who does laura think she is? no fucking hero, that's for goddamn sure.
"you got nothing to say, mouth?" she asks, almost out of breath from yelling accusations.
all you can manage to say is one sentence. and she doesn’t even fucking deserve the warning too. "i'm gonna fight you now."
wolverine only snorts, a pitiful laugh towards your remark. "oh, are you?"
you take note how a quick punch to her nose shuts her right up, and watch in satisfaction how blood trickles out her nostril down to her upper lip. your small victory is cut short by her fist colliding to the same spot on your own nose. she pushes you to the window and grabs the back of your mask, then slams your face down onto the center head unit multiple times. different radio stations flick back and forth as you make contact with the buttons and nozzles, eventually landing on a song from the original 'grease' soundtrack.
♡ last gore x nsfw warning !! :3 ♡
you lift your hand to grab one of your swords but another punch to the cheek causes your vision to cloud. by the time you come to your senses, laura has buckled your seatbelt and is digging her left claw into your stomach, twisting her hand slowly.
“not talkin’ now, are ya?” she growls before withdrawing her claws and moving to stab you again. pulling the lever on the side of your car seat, you fall backwards to quickly dodge her blow. you kick your foot against her shoulder to keep her back, and then tightly wrap your legs around her head. another three blades enter your side in a sudden motion, causing you to release your chokehold.
“agh! you dirty bitch!” you shout before kicking her out the front windshield of the honda. you laugh and point as she rolls and tumbles through the leaves and dirt. as soon as she gets up, you unsheathe your swords while she sprints back to you. she’s a fucking animal—ramming herself into the front of the car, causing the airbag to go off on your stomach and send you flying back into the reclined seat.
laura jumps through the broken windshield and lands claws first on top of your already bloodied body. slash after slash, you both further each others’ injuries until you flip laura over and pin her down to the seat. there is surprise in her eyes with a hint of something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. trying to catch your breath, she only looks up at you with a ratted smile, as if amused to see you attempting to kill her. blood stains her face and fanged teeth, and her short hair is tangled and damp with sweat. fuck—it’s a sight. with your elbow against her chest, you’re still close enough to smell her alcohol-tainted breath.
“need a mint, you preening slut?” you ask before you are flying through the sunroof of the honda and falling to the ground outside the car. after kicking yourself up, your little wolvie gestures for you to come back with a simple hand wave behind the window. who are you to keep her waiting? throwing the swords over your shoulders, you take out your baby knives before running back to the car and jumping through the window.
broken glass and blood is everywhere, but neither of you care. you’re both having too much fun trying to murder the other as you take turns regenerating. it’s a pointless waste of time and energy. a total meaningless circle of fighting and healing.
you pin laura through the broken windshield and onto the front hood of the car, stabbing her shoulder and arms repeatedly with a knife. the sleeves of her suit eventually fall apart, fabric scattering and leaving her muscular arms to your gaze. so clearly you’re distracted. she grabs your wrist behind her and heaves your arm over her head to hold you in her place for a moment to catch her breath.
she then drags you by the belt from across the car and holds you down with her body in the back seat. her claws sink through the red fabric and into your sides. again. and again. the repetitive motions of the sharp metal soon causes a big tear in the fabric of your suit, exposing the skin under your breast. it seems as if neither of you notice at first, continuously fighting until another stretch from her pinning your arms above your head causes a terrible ripping sound. you both stop and look down, unsure on who has the decency to yield the fight first.
wolverine pauses for a moment, hovering over your bare tit before suddenly attacking your nipple with her mouth. there is nothing gentle about it, and you can’t tell if her actions are still a way of fighting with the harsh ways her sharp teeth nip and bite.
you lay there for a moment in shock, chest heaving up and down in short spurts as you try to breathe. your hands drop the knives to the car floor behind you, yet your wrists are still trapped in the wolverine’s grip. before you can think to stop it, a breathy whimper escapes your lips. the sound pricks laura to come to her senses and looks up at you with a flushed expression.
fucking hell. if you weren’t okay with what’s happening, you would’ve said something by now. even laura knows that—considering how fucking chatty you are.
“were ya hungry, peanut? needed a mid-fight snack?” you tease, tilting your head with a raised brow.
“i didn’t say i was finished.” she smirks before lowering her head to your chest again. her tongue circles and flicks at your nipple, treating it oh so lovingly before biting and pulling at it so fucking roughly. you chew on your bottom lip to muffle your own moans—all because you’re too stubborn to let her know how fucking good it feels.
she’s holding herself back, yet you kick her chest and propel her weight backwards onto the head unit, while the momentum pushes you the opposite direction into the third row of seats. as she falls, the grease song playing from the radio is muted, leaving you two to a short-lived silence.
"i was wrong—the honda odyssey fucks hard,” you say, rolling your head back and cracking your neck in the process. looking back to laura, you usher her to you with a teasing two-finger motion. “too bad you don't, needle dick.”
“oh, we’re just getting started, bub,” she replies, eyeing your manspread position before lunging to you again.
calling her an animal is to say the fucking least. but you’re no better. she rips and tears your suit, not giving a single fuck in the world that you may need to keep it in tact for later in the plot line. she pulls the tough fabric apart, exposing your tits to her lingering eyes. it’s like a switch is flipped. all of a sudden she can’t get enough, wanting- needing to see more of you. for a moment, you just let her. your belt is removed followed by your pants all while you just lay back and watch her do the work. soon you’re only in your black underwear, smirking under your red and black mask at how fucking needy she looks. her callused hands grip your waist, easily pulling you up to her as her mouth finds your other nipple.
“you’re not you when your hungry. and clearly, you always seem incredibly hungry, wolvie.”
“shuh du phvck uh.” is what you make of her boob-drunk gibberish and assume she’s simply cussing you out.
“huh? couldn’t quite catch that. y’ know you really shouldn’t talk with your mouth full-”
a large, gloved hand muffles your masked mouth before her lips release your tit with a pop.
“off,” she says. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and she must be able to tell by your silence, causing her to elaborate quickly while her free hand lingers on the black lace of your underwear. “i don’t want a damn word out of your filthy mouth until you’ve taken these off. if you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna have to let me.”
fucking hell. panties are soaking wet right now.
you slowly nod your head in her restrictive grip, and lift your hips to remove the damp fabric from your body. damp from blood or sweat or something else… who fucking knows and who fucking cares. you toss them to the side and immediately pull laura closer to you. her harsh kisses mark your neck and collarbone before she wets her middle finger with her tongue and starts to rub quick circles on your clit. you almost push her away, her starting speed too overstimulating at first, but you soon get used to it, bucking your hips in a physical ask to move faster.
“keep still, sweetheart. that’s it,” fuck even her praise is still low and demanding somehow. you wrap your hands around her hairy forearm, hissing curses as you feel yourself grow closer and closer to the edge.
“fuck- you know, i bet you’re a pretty good dj in some other univers- oh my god!” your silly quip is cut short by her pushing one finger into you. then another. and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess as you soak her hand as well as the car seat beneath you. her mouth is against your masked ear, shushing your witticism. white rings of cum coat up to her knuckles while her thumb resumes a quick pace on your clit.
banter is over as quiet whimpers replace your usual chatterbox routine. her large fingers feel so much better than your own, and then that’s where she leaves you—fingers curling inside your cunt causing your brain to see stars. your orgasm hits you hard, but not as hard as she does—a rough slap to your face intensifies every sensation, leaving you pained like putty in her grasp as you come down from your high. “don’t got much to say now, huh?”
your eyes focus on her hair and how it twirls up on both sides—the classic hairstyle for any and all wolverine’s across the multiverse. “why do~you style~your hair like that?” your voice slurs with dizzy haze, and laura only looks down at your drunken state quizzically. “were ya going f’ wolf? ‘cause it makes ya look more like a cat. like my little meow meow~”
a growl creeps from the back of her throat before three claws find a home—digging into the flesh on your shoulder.
“shit! you angry ‘bout it, mama?” you ask teasingly before watching her slowly remove her belt. “no- not the belt! i won’t be a naughty girl, i swear!”
“don’t be dramatic,” she scoffs as she tosses the belt aside and straddles you again.
“that’s kinda my job. hashtag drama queen. hashtag full-time. ‘round the clock. just like how your full time job is hiding a fully comic accurate superhero suit under your clothes for when its use comes once every twenty fucking years.”
that switched something in her. she yanks your mask off your head and glares down into your eyes. then a smirk sneaks its way onto her lips. fuck. what does she know that you don’t?
“you think this suit is the only thing i keep under my clothes?” your jaw tenses when laura unzips her pants and allows her strap to spring out to your view. it has to be at least eight to nine inches, the color matches her skin tone and the base of it connects to the black harness buckled around her boxers.
“marvel jesus h. christ! where did you even get that thing? the prop table from the set of alien?!"
you half-expect an answer, but she only lifts your mask and forces a mouthful of the red fabric down your throat, leaving your fear-factored size question hanging in the air. “there… silence is nice. isn’t it?” you’ve lost your voice, but you don’t protest. your frustrated whimpers are muffled and shaky breaths escape through your nose as laura traces her dick up and down your wetted lips. “just relax, beautiful,” she whispers as she slips the tip into you. the tone of her voice is teasing, clearly loving how much power she so easily has over you. pushing in deeper, her pace stays agonizingly slow, as if she’s having to think about controlling every thrust. your eyes follow the grinding movements of her hips and your legs instinctively wrap around her waist. as laura starts to speed up, your backside rubs against the car seat. trying to find a sense of stability, your hands scatter up the butch’s clothed torso and eventually grip her broad shoulders. you can’t help but buck your hips again, no longer ashamed of how fucking needy you look doing so. one of her hands claw at the shoulder of the seat behind you while the other has a strong hold on your hip, guiding your body with hers. guiding soon turns to holding and holding soon turns to pinning. not only is she now chasing her high, but she will do whatever she needs to get to it.
“agh~ fuck. is this what you wanted? to be wrapped around me like this? you’re so pathetic, it’s adorable.”
when all you can do is moan in reply, laura knows she’s fucked you stupid, but still long ways away from being done with you. she suddenly stops altogether and pulls out of you, chuckling quietly when you groan due to your pleasure being delayed. she turns you over and props you up on your knees, then holds you down by the back of the neck with one hand and finds a firm grip on your ass with the other. her relentless thrusts continue, causing a repetitive sound of her hips slamming into the backs of your thighs. every time she pulls back, you follow her dick—leaning to her to chase that friction.
she hits nerve after nerve. the pain hurts too fucking good. your words are still muffled against your ladypool mask, the fabric now damp with saliva and drool. maybe tears as well.
“speak up, princess. ‘s hard to hear you,” laura instructs as she removes the piece from your mouth.
“i… i’m… gonna-” you start before trailing off, finding it hard to focus on words as laura speeds up her pace.
“what, pretty thing? y’ gonna cum?”
“tha-that’s what she said!” of course. of-fucking-course those are the words you can get to leave your stuttering mouth.
“god—do you ever shut the fuck up?” laura groans before tossing your mask to the side and holding your hips steady. when she notices your silence, she leans forward, a hand massaging your tit and her teeth taking a harsh bite at your earlobe. “or maybe you just need to be fucked speechless, don’t you?”
yes. a million times yes.
quiet whimpers leave your lips, the smell of cigars and alcohol mixed with the stench of blood and sex is almost overwhelming. laura slows her pace again, taking her sweet time watching, playing, torturing you for pleasure. that sadistic fuck.
“i do love these cute little noises you’re making, yeh? tell me how good it feels. i know it feels good but i wanna hear you say it—come on. spit it out,” she says into your ear. her lips have gone dry from breathing heavily and sweat trickles down her forehead and nose. the torn fabric of her yellow and navy blue suit rug-burns against your skin from all the excessive movement, but you don’t care. laura pulls your arms behind your back before yanking a seat belt out of its buckles to wrap tightly around your wrists. the rough material hurts, but it’s a good-hurt. when you only let out a porn-styled moan (half-exaggerating to poke fun at her), the wolverine behind you reaches under your neck and grabs your jaw. “you’ not gonna use that mouth?”
“fuck- okay! yes, it feels good. you feel so fucking good. just- please, let me- let me cum!”
and your begs get so easily rewarded. laura must have a soft spot for you because her thrusts speed up again, and this time hit hard with no intention of stopping.
what has little wolvie turned you into, hm? you, ladypool, a beggar? breaking out of character many would argue, but maybe that’s her goal: finding what breaks you.
“not yet. shit- wait ‘til i say.”
the hilt of her strap hits her clit just right as she continues to drive herself into your pretty cunt. as minutes pass and breaths quicken, her metal claws unsheathe and dig themselves into the seat beneath you two. she’s close.
with clamped hands still tied behind your back, you sense that knot in your stomach growing. guttural sounds from the back of the throat slip from laura’s lips, filling your ears as she hits your g-spot again and again, pushing you so quickly towards your release for the second time.
“right there! plea- please, please! i’m… gonna-”
“go on, sweetheart. fucking cum~”
at her words, her command—you feel yourself tighten around her. and your moans must’ve been what did it for her because immediately after—husky groans are heard from behind your bare, trembling body. the heavy weight of a wolverine falls against you, breathing hard onto your skin as her sweat-coated face buries itself into the nape of your neck. a trail of little bite marks, enhanced by her small fangs, are left scattered across your shoulders and upper back.
her middle finger finds your clit again to draw little circles, bringing out pitiful whimpers and post-sex muscle spasms from your worn out body.
“ca- canada…”
your contorted face and senselessness brings her to hum—which is her version of a laugh in this dizzy state. she broke you. and it didn’t take very much, did it?
she turns your chin to look up at her, her face reflecting that drunken haze with the ghost of a smile across her lips. her focus falls to your parted mouth for a moment before finally connecting her lips with yours. the kiss is softer than you expect, as if her hunger’s satisfied, yet the warm taste of cigars and alcohol linger.
“y’ did good, sweetheart.”
just good? must she always be so condescending?
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
spent way too long on this lol comment/repost if you like it, loves !!
this is so gonna flop but idc i wrote it for me and bookie 👩❤️💋👩
Type: Fluff, fem wolverine x fem presenting person
Word Count: 415
Notes: hello !! thank u for all the love on my other wolverine posts :D Fem wolverine has been on my mind and i wrote all of these late at night </3 sorry if i misspelled anything !!
Masterlist
- she loves you so so so much omg she will do anything for you
- she’s the ‘hands in her pockets, scowling at everyone and only smiling softly at you when you talk to her’ kinda girlfriend
- she loves buying you things. even if you glance at something for a few seconds longer, it’s already in her hands and she’s at the register
- she loves when you sit on her lap or between her thighs where your back is to her chest, no matter your size. sometimes when you walk into the room, she looks up at you and just man spreads so you can fit in her lap
- to get her attention right away, pull on her belt or jean belt loops; she’s full attention on you and only you for the rest of the night
- when she comes home to you, she loves to shove her face in your chest and just inhale deeply. bonus points if you’re wearing a tank top where she can feel your skin on hers
- she’s a big chest person; always grabbing at you (it doesn’t matter if you do or don’t have a chest for her to grab, she’ll find a way. TRUST.)
- she loves when you get your nails done because then she gets to feel your nails on her skin and scratching her scalp when you drift off to sleep. she loves it when you slowly drag your nails up and down her arms when you cuddle
- she hates baths… unless you’re with her. she’s usually behind you while you lay your back to her chest, her arms resting on the sides of the tub as she drinks a beer and you with a mug / cup of your drink of choice
- you definitely have matching stuff. matching keychains, matching necklaces, matching bracelets. she’ll even let you paint her nails black just to match with whatever color you like
- even if she loves treating and pampering you, pls do it to her too !! she will melt immediately and become a big purring mess
“you always treatn’ me so well… my good girl.” she mumbles into your chest, sneaking her hands up your shirt to rub mindlessly at your stomach. you hum with a smile when you feel her hands; she’s always a sucker for skin to skin. you run your fingers through her hair.
“you always treat me so well, Lo. you deserve some love too.”
- i just wanna be called “good girl” by fem Logan, pls.
Butch!Logan is perfectly aware of the fact that you can protect yourself. She’s seen you fight countless times, knows you manage to stand your ground pretty well and doesn’t intervene unless you really do need help — it’s an unspoken rule in your relationship (no matter which stage it’s at), she will never treat you as a kid and the last thing she wants is to make you feel like she does not have faith in what you can do.
However, Logan still does get protective, perhaps even unconsciously. If you’re in a car or in the jet, her arm will be shielding your chest as soon as you come across a bump or the vehicle makes a sudden turn (and keep in mind, seatbelts exist. Is the gesture still appreciated? Of course).
During a fight she quickly glances at you to see how you’re doing, and she will pierce anyone who tries to surprise you from behind or from a hidden place like a skewer. You’re left wondering who trained those people if they can’t even manage to make a sneak attack.
Logan will scare off anyone who dares get too close to you if they do not seem to have good intentions, and even if you know how to respond to creeps — and throw a punch straight to their jaw if they do not back off after a couple warnings — her icy glare seems to have the same effect as Cyclops’ optic blasts.
In conclusion, Logan trusts and respects you and lets you do your thing, but you can still benefit from a scary dog privilege once in a while. And you kind of like that.
