thoughts on old man!logan because he deserves more love [tw: somnophilia]
old man!logan who has no idea really how he managed to score someone like you
old man!logan who tried to scare you off for ages, caving almost instantly when he gets that first taste of your soft lips
old man!logan who has learned to let you help with the claws because if you ever have a temper, it’s when he doesn’t let you take care of him
old man!logan who, despite “knowing” you deserve better, loves just how sweet you are to an “old dog” like him
old man!logan who finds himself looking forward to coming home to you at the end of each day. who pictures you in nothing but one of his t-shirts and can almost feel your soft skin under his rough hands instead of the worn steering wheel
old man!logan who finds you practically asleep, waiting up for him on the couch exactly as described. your arms circle around his neck loosely and you press sleepy kisses to his throat when he carries you to your shared bed
old man!logan who has to nearly coo to you because you whine when he gently pulls your arms from around him so he can go clean up
old man!logan who holds you to his chest while you sleep, like he’s shielding you from the world that’s already taken so much from him
old!man logan whose bones are just so tired
old man!logan who still wants to make his pretty young thing feel good. who more often than not, has his eyes open by the time the sun peeks through the edges of the curtains and relies on your much easier sleep to last while he moves
old man!logan who thinks he’s already gone to heaven when he settles between your thighs and lifts the hem of his your t-shirt above your hips, already drunk off your heady scent he’s been drowning in since last night
old man!logan who starts off so slow, tongue gently trailing up to your clit just to taste you
old man!logan who wraps his lips around your clit like his favorite candy because you are, but he doesn’t stay for long, pulling back to press gentle kisses over the sensitive nub instead. he didn’t have this restraint when he was younger. we’ll see how long it lasts now
old man!logan who manages not to wake you for the first hour but your sleepy moans and soft keens as you lazily squirm in the sheets, eyes still closed but now squeezed in your sleep, drive him insane. next thing either of you knows, his arms have your thighs locked in on either side of his head and he’s making out with your messy cunt like he’ll never see you again
old man!logan who spends the first hours of your morning between your legs until you’re crying and trembling, begging him for you don’t even know what anymore
old man!logan who simply reaches up to curl his hand over your smaller one to ground you
old man!logan whose bones may be tired, but he’ll never leave his angel unsatisfied
description: the only thing you could ever need is her [requested]
cw: fingering, oral
“would you like to talk about it, my love?”
diana’s dulcet tone helps guide you into the warmth of home, her hands easily peeling the jacket from your shoulders and guiding you to the sofa to sit. the plush cushions dip under your weight and she kneels in front of you to level with your gaze.
you shake your head and hold up one hand, her calloused fingers entwining with yours gently and making you smile just a fraction. a pinch in her chest at how heavy your day seems to be weighing on you. “just need you, di.”
dinner is spent curled in her lap, eating together, feeding each other. she pours you more wine and you listen to her talk about her day at the museum until the moment she takes notice of how your muscles have relaxed, weighed down by the liquid, fuzzy warmth from the glass held delicately in your hand. eyes mildly glassy and smile a little crooked as you ask her why she’s stopped talking. she poses the question as a tease, “are you sure you don’t need anything, asteri mu?”
your repeated answer, softer, lighter than before, makes something warm like sunlight seep into her chest and envelope her heart. “just need you, di.”
that same ray of sun turns into something molten and sinks lower later that night in bed, leading her lips into trailing away from yours to press firmly to your throat instead. the soft sighs it draws from you, her own personal siren’s song, are enough to make the feel of hot molasses spread through her limbs, and draw her hand to settle between your thighs. what she finds makes her mouth water, but she takes her time.
two fingers have sunken into your heat and she could be content with simply staying right there, feeling you, knowing she’s the only one to taste something so precious. but your pretty voice in her ear draws her fingertips to curl into that spongy spot inside she knows will prolong your sweet melodies. a desperation unlike any other tightens in her belly but her words are steady, sure, almost teasing with how even and sympathetic her tone is. “what do you need, little dove?”
it’s unfair the way her fingers curl again, knocking any coherent request out of your mind. she so gently swipes her tongue across your pulse point in anticipation when you revert to base instinct and gasp sweetly, “just- need you, di!”
what could i have possibly done to obtain the key to paradise?
she knows that’s where she is when she presses warm, almost calculated kisses along your thighs, thumbs curling into the sides of your underwear to gently drag them down your legs. it doesn’t take long for her tongue to find it’s home, swirling around the little bundle of nerves, trailing through your slick as though she can’t get enough. your hands tangling in her hair merely spur her on, and she slips her tongue lower until she can press it deep inside you, coaxing out more of what’s easily become her favorite vice. this is the filthiest you’ll ever see her outside of battle, gaze half lidded, face dusted pink as she barely allows herself a moment to breathe before her nose is nudging at your clit again. it’s intoxicating for you both.
that is easily confirmed for you as a fact on her end when she draws a third orgasm out of you, her muscled arm curl around your thighs now, hands pressed over your tummy to pin you. to remind you of just how helpless you are in her hands. your head is thrown back against she sheets as she relentlessly prods at that sweet spot inside, clearly set on pushing you into another mind numbing moment. it’s a miracle your broken up words reach her, but they do. “di! oh- di, please i want- want you to- feel good too-!” your voice devolves into another whimpery cry as her chuckle vibrates against you, one calloused hand slipping down lower to circle her thumb around your overly sensitive clit.
not that you would be able to appreciate the irony of her answer. but what you can appreciate is the way her words are mumbled against you, breathless, just as you leave her every time.
he knows he’s absolutely exhausted you by the time you two are done. he praises you gently in that gruff voice of his, making sure you’re with him, checking in on you properly. if you have enough energy for it, he’ll get up and run you a bath. if not, he’ll have you laying on his chest as he gently massages your thighs, lips ghosting over any bruises he can reach at this angle. water and snacks always on standby
body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
he loves every inch of you but something about your thighs just- peeking out from beneath a skirt, a pair of shorts, squeezed into some jeans, begging for him to tear them off. he loves your hands too. loves to watch them wander, loves to feel them on his heated skin, see them wrapped around his…
on himself i mean, he’s pretty proud of what he’s got going on down under. he likes his arms though, mostly because he loves how you look caged in underneath him, thick biceps on either side of you, surrounded by him. or the way your throat feels in the crook of his elbow when he’s fucking you from behind
cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
inside inside inside. it’s his favorite. look, he spends a lot of time trying to “tame the animal” and in bed is one of the places he more willingly lets loose. a lot of his, habits, fall into the more primal category, and he absolutely loves to fill you up. loves to pull out and keep a hand on each of your thighs too, watching as you struggle to keep as much in as you can. don’t worry, he’ll help you out, making you squirm as he scoops so much of it up and gently pushes his fingers into you. “take it all, sweetheart”
speaking of taking it all, he cums a lot. a lot. it’s abnormal but that’s okay because he’s right, you will take it all ♡
dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
he loves taking pictures of you. he’s a little old school (not as old school as you’d think) so he’s got a collection of polaroids of you in every mind numbing position you can think of. his personal favorites are one in which your pretty body is all on display for him, especially the mess between your legs, and another in which your expression is so fucked out, and your glossy lips are pulled into a sweet smile while he presses two of his thick, cum covered fingers into your mouth
experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
he’s been around a long, long time. he’s absolutely experienced. he definitely knows what he’s doing, and he definitely knows how to put it to use to make you feel so good
favorite position (this goes without saying)
it’s a toss up between a mating press (for obvious reasons. bonus points because he presses down on your tummy and it makes you feel so so full), having you face down ass up (he loves how fucked out he can get you, especially when he presses you deeper into the sheets), and missionary (for the softer times)
goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
as much as he loves them, he’s not exactly trying to hear your giggles when you two are intimate. he’s more aiming for delirious babbles and mindless moans and whimpers. if you slip, trust that he will rasp the filthiest things against the shell of your ear until you’re squirming
hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
doesn’t just match the drapes, it matches all the upholstery. have you seen his arms? his chest? he keeps it trimmed well enough, for your sake. he’s not a clean shaven man by any means though
intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
during the softer times, you don’t know where he ends and you begin. he’s got his arms around you and your body so flush to his, you can barely breathe. he’ll murmur and moan about how perfect you are, how beautiful you look like this, how good you feel. he’ll kiss wherever he can reach and you think you might pass out but it’s so worth it to hear him talk like this. it’s not soft and sweet every time, but whether it is or not, sex with you is special to him
jack off (masturbation headcanons)
when he’s away from you for more than a night he gets incredibly pent up. if he manages to get back to you before it overwhelms him entirely, good luck. but if he doesn’t, he’ll use one of those pretty pictures to get off. even better if he can get you on the phone. but extenuating circumstance aside, why would he need to rub one out when he has you?
kink (one or more of their kinks)
so many. he’s into pretty much anything you are. definitely a major fucking size kink. he loves to manhandle you and make you feel like his little doll. also a major breeding kink, which again comes back to him letting go during sex. he tries to keep this part of it at bay, but that instinct is constantly tugging at his mind and it’s what drives him to fuck you into the mattress til you can’t take it anymore
look… i’m not a huge fan of daddy kink but i can definitely see logan being into it if we’re talking about pre logan (2017)
location (favorite places to do the do)
literally anywhere. he prefers home because then he can hear all those pretty noises flow freely from your lips, but he’s not against a quick fuck in the bathroom of a bar, or having you on your knees in an alleyway. don’t worry, you can suck on his fingers to keep quiet. better yet, he might wrap them around your throat and squeeze until you’re dizzy
motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
when you take care of him. when you fuss over him, even knowing he’s practically indestructible. or when you let him take care of you, protect you, scare off any mother fucker that tries to come near you. either way the wide eyed look you give him has him raring to make them roll back into your head
no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
sigh… as much as it saddens me to say, nothing with the claws. ever. it’s hard enough getting him to trust them around you normally. the closest you might ever get is him cutting away your clothes with them
oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
giving. don’t get me wrong, he loves to watch you with your mouth full of cock, thick fingers cradling and pushing on the back of your head as he makes you choke and gag around him until your cheeks are streaked with tears and your throat is achy. but going down on you is like his own personal fucking heaven. he will spend hours. hours. between your thighs. if you start running away, hips squirming and hands clawing at the sheets, he’ll growl and lock each arm around your thighs to keep them pressed around his head, and you’re not done until he is
pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
most of the time he’s fast and rough. his instincts, his more primal needs get away from him more often than not and he loses himself in the feeling, the sound, the taste and scent of you. the thought of breeding you (whether it’s possible or not) and marking you as completely and entirely his. it’s like you’re in his head, wrapping hazy heated tendrils through his mind that won’t let him stop, and neither of you would have it any other way
quickie (their opinions on quickies)
he doesn’t mind quickies at all. sometimes they even need to happen. don’t forget my obsession with this man’s sense of smell. he can smell your arousal from across the room and there is absolutely no hiding from him, no matter where you happen to be. he’ll drag you into a closet, a bathroom, hell even a particularly empty hallway, to “give you exactly what you need, darlin’.”
risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
like i said, he’s not as old school as you might think. he’s down to try pretty much anything with you. as for risky locations, it kinda gets him off to fuck you somewhere there’s a chance of getting caught. the nerves and the rush of it all makes you squeeze in such a heavenly way around him, he has to shut you up with his palm or his fingers, bite down on your shoulder to muffle his growls… what was i saying? yes, risky locations. he doesn’t mind
stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
if this man could keep you in bed all hours of the day, he would. each round lasts a while. due to his mutation, his refractory period is practically nothing, and as long as he’s still making you feel good, he can and will keep going
toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
no. he’s not necessarily against them, but he doesn’t own any, nor does he really buy any of his own volition. any toys that make their way into the bedroom come from you
unfair (how much they like to tease)
he’s such a god damn tease. the easiest way to get to you without compromising his self control is murmuring absolute filth into your ear. he’s a man of few words but when it comes to sex? he could go on for days. about how good you’ll feel, how he’ll make you forget your own name, how he knows “you’ll take it like the angel i know you are right? yeah, you can take it.”
he also knows how you melt at just the sight of him. he’s an asshole, he walks around in his stupid wife beater, barely able to stretch over his broad chest. or without a shirt, sweats hanging low on his hips, tempting you with that one very prominent vein that leads down… (days of future past. iykyk)
volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
he’s not loud but he is vocal. like i said, he’s got a mouth on him in more ways than one when it comes to sex. grunts, groans, every once in a while you might even get him to whine and it’s such a pretty sound. but you’ll hear more growls than anything. if he’s in particularly deep, you might even get something close to a snarl. he leans more towards praise usually but he absolutely loves to give you degrading praise too. “my pretty slut. my filthy angel. perfect little cumdump” etc.
wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
he’s into collaring you. however, with how busy you both can get, it’s not always an option. what’s the next best thing? his dog tags. it seems innocent enough as you follow him around, his name around your neck, but every chance he gets, he’s using the chain to tug you closer, pull you in for a kiss. he loves when you ride him and the thin metal shines right there in front of him, a reminder of who you belong to. it’s the closest you’ll get to the collar when you guys are having quickies too
x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
he’s hung. at least a solid eight inches, ridiculously thick, and prominently veiny. it’s so heavy, even when he’s hard it dips down, with sorry balls just as full and heavy to match. sorry babes, it’ll be a struggle. but that’s okay! he’ll make it fit d:)
yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
like i said, he’d have you in bed all day every day of the week if he could. he is always raring to go when it comes to you. he can’t help it, you’re just so good. all of you. “i need you baby. know you’ll take care’a me”
Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
doesn’t. at least not before you. sometimes, if he hasn’t fucked you entirely brainless, you try to stay up with him, and he finds it adorable how your mumbling into his chest slowly slurs into absolute gibberish, then eventually turns to even breaths. you’ll always fall asleep first, and it makes him smile every single time
a/n: i’m sick in the head i need him carnally guys help me
description: a brief overview of how logan’s love for your need to touch came to be [requested]
cw: none, mostly fluff
it’d taken some getting used to. it’s not everyday someone decides the best way to show their affection is by entwining themselves with you every chance they get. even less so someone decides to do so for logan.
you’re clingy, he’d realized quickly.
it started off small, as though you were afraid to scare him off. and who could blame you? he’s not the most outwardly affectionate man on the planet. but you knew him well enough to know limits, and a featherlight kiss to his bicep, his jaw, his cheek, eventually turned to a shower of kisses pressed to any free patch of bare skin (with the exception of his lips unless you wanted to be trapped for hours).
then came the hugs. fairly normal. one every time he left, one every time he came back. but somehow, he started finding himself late to those jobs or missions, delayed by the way you’ve got your arms wrapped around him, face tucked into his shirt as he’s settled on the edge of the bed. he’d just been packing hadn’t he…? when he comes home it’s worse. you’re practically in his clothes with him the moment he settles down but he doesn’t mind it. why would he mind his sweetheart pressed up against him like you wanted to crawl under his skin?
what had been hardest, for both of you, were the hands.
you’d known well enough, even before making it official, that he’s never seen them as something safe. he’s never quite trusted them. and while you understood, it broke your heart.
your fingers around his wrist. that’s as close as you begin. a touch so gentle, so trusted now by him, that he almost doesn’t notice. but a moment later, you feel the muscles and tendons tense a fraction, before he’s taking your hand in his gently… and curling it over his bicep instead, like you’ve done a million times. you simply lean your cheek against his arm and he grunts quietly as he glances down at you, as if to make sure he’s done no harm. you just smile.
you’re god damn persistent, he finds.
it gets to a point where he almost tries to scare you off. his energy running high from a particularly harrowing trip, claws out as he bares his teeth. not quite at you, but close enough. instead of arguing with him, your hands wrap around his carefully to bring it up closer. he’s tense. so tense you think he’ll spring away at any moment, but the feeling of your lips on the back of his hand has his claws retracting immediately, wild eyes now looking at you like you’re crazy. your gentle words pull him in. “you trust me, right?”
from then on, on his good nights, those less and less rare good nights, he’d wake up with his fingers curled over the back of your head. splayed across your back while you rest on his chest, extremities wrapped around him. his little backpack, he thinks, as you sigh contentedly against his skin.
logan knows it’s only a matter of time. he’d had to disentangle himself from all your limbs when he crawled out of bed. he knows the smell of breakfast and the lack of his body heat will lure you out from the sheets soon enough.
“logan.”
your sleepy yawn is very quickly followed by you snaking your arms around his waist and pulling yourself flush to his broad back. he hums low in his throat, mild amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.
and maybe, just maybe, he’s found, that he might be a little clingy too.
thinking about miguel. miggy. or mr. o’hara as you call him in this case
thinking about him with his comic storyline. he’s always busy at alchemax. always working hard. exhausting himself. so in comes you, his new pretty little lab assistant, fresh out of college, and so so eager to please. to prove yourself. you’re always in the lab with him. always running up and down the halls for him so he can continue working on what you deem as more important tasks. always relaying messages. and much to his dismay, always catching everybody’s eye
unfortunately for you, aaron, his supervisor, had taken a sleazy liking to you. you’re not quite sure you can say the same but nonetheless, you’re always pleasant. and he knows you’re always eager
he calls you in one day when miguel has already gone home. usually you wouldn’t be there either but some reports needed to be finished and despite his protests, you promised they’d be done by morning. aaron tells you he needs you to help him test something, and that, my dear, is how miguel ends up picking up the phone after the tenth time it rings. he’s startled and blood immediately rushes south when he hears your voice, high and whiny. needy
“miggy”
oh he didn’t know the nickname could sound so pretty. not only is it finally falling from your pretty mouth, but to hear you begging for him?
he’s immediately in the car and on the phone with you the entire time- miggy, hurts. need help. want you. need you- he tries to tell you to calm down, to focus, stop talking, but there’s not much conviction behind it. puta madre when did his pants get so tight
you stumble out of the building as he pulls up and immediately you’re all over him, nearly knocking his glasses off his nose. he’s just trying to help you into the car, to get you home or get you help, but your hands are wandering and he feels a bit faint. he’s trying so hard to keep his hands to himself and he nearly chokes when you palm him through his sweats but he pries you off gently despite your whimpers and straps you into the passenger’s seat. collects himself. then you guys are off. he asks what happened but all he manages to get from you is that aaron needed help and when whatever he gave you didn’t seem to have any effect, he lost interest and left. miguel thinks he might throttle him
or maybe he’ll thank him beforehand because- christ when did you take off your seatbelt? you’re on your knees in your seat, bent over the center console. your hand is already tugging at his sweats, and you’re so desperate at this point that there are tears in your eyes
“please miggy please please please, promise. i jus’ need it please”
you’re not making any sense. his eyes nearly roll when your soft hand wraps around him and he whines. this hulking man whines because he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t allow this. “hermosa please you don’t know what you’re doing”
you just keen and when he glances down, the sight of your hand wrapped around his weeping cock beneath a thin layer of fabric nearly makes him swerve off the road. “stop-“ he gasps as the pad of your thumb spreads pre over the head and he white knuckles the steering wheel. “you’ve gotta stop” he growls this time, self restraint hanging on by a thread. you don’t care. you mouth at the covered head until the cloth is wet with drool and his arousal. his fingers tangle in your hair with the intent to pull you away but you find the weight of his hand only worsens the mess between your thighs. and you just feel so empty
the moment you peel his now sticky sweats away and wrap your warm mouth around him, he’s gone. it’s a miracle that the car isn’t immediately wrapped around a tree. he goes from “no please don’t” to “shock, preciosa just like that. ta- ahn perfecta” within seconds and you’re positively aching for him. aching to please. and every pretty moan, sweet whine, deep growl, makes your already blazing skin ten times hotter. he can smell you but when he reaches over to touch you and he feels your slick running down your thighs, soaking your panties, he really does almost crash. he’ll pay you back, he promises, and you whine with him down your throat
by the time he fills your mouth to overflowing, salty, thick, so very him and so so much, you’re crying. he’s just so pretty when he struggles and you’re so empty. you pull off, a mess of tears and cum and drool but you refuse to give him a break and continue pumping him until he can barely think. he’s never been so glad to see his apartment building
“pleasepleaseplease fuck me miggy please” you’re clambering over into his lap and he lets out a shuddering sigh as he finally, impatiently tears away your soaked panties to slip two thick fingers into your needy cunt and you thank him through little cries like he’s saved your life
“s’okay i know. i know, i’ll take care of you, baby”
description: just some sfw headcanons for logan ♡ [requested]
cw: maybe a little angst
affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)
three words: acts of service. he loves doing things for you. he especially loves being able to do things for you without you having to ask. physical touch is another big thing, that takes some getting to for sure, but when you get him there, he’ll make you feel so so loved. especially any part of you you’re insecure about
best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start)
best friend? baby, he set his sights on you and immediately knew he wanted to be more than friends. that aside, once you’re together, once you’ve “worked your magic” on him as he says, he is absolutely your best friend. shoulder to cry on, moral support, someone to listen to all the chisme from the day. he’s always there for you, even if he may seem a bit aloof
cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)
he loves cuddles once you get past his fear of hurting you. it’s a struggle, it takes some patience, but when he eventually grows more comfortable, he loves when you’re both on your sides, the feeling of you curled into his chest, his arms secure around you. any position where he pretty much envelopes you, he loves
domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)
sigh… he doesn’t think he’ll get the chance. but yes. yes he so badly wants to settle down once he meets you. he can’t stand when he has to be away from you for so long. he just wants to make your coffee in the morning while you pack his lunch and you take each other to work. if you even have to work
i think, at first, he doesn’t really know his way around the kitchen. very basic things he’d make on the road if he had to. but eventually, with a little practice, he makes amazing food. and we all know he’s a little messy but he does his fair share. never wants to make you lift a finger if you don’t have to
ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
if you guys are still a work in progress with him opening up, he likely tries to scare you away. he’d never hurt you, you know that, but he knows (read: thinks) he’s scary. sharp words he doesn’t mean in a voice he never uses for you. he knows how to be cruel. he will use it if he feels he has to
if you guys have been together a while, you’ve jumped through many hurdles, he likely begs you to stay away from him because he “knows” he’ll hurt you. that this is for the best, he’s no good for you. (don’t let him throw away the only good thing he’s got in his life)
fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)
the first time he tries to scare you off and you just hold him instead, that’s the moment he knows you’re the one. the moment he knows he wants a ring on your finger with his name on it. the only way you might possibly get this information out of him (because he doesn’t want to give you false hope) is if he’s beyond black out drunk. or if he’s feeling particularly sappy from being comforted after a nightmare. good luck
gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
90% of the time, he’s the fuckin sweetest. but there’s just, a slight twist to every touch. he kisses you like you’re his whole world, but with an air of desperation that seems like he thinks you’ll disappear at any moment. he hugs you like you’re his most precious belonging, but every comfort item ends up a little worn (read: he squeezes pretty tight)
emotionally, he might be a little oblivious, but that doesn’t mean he can’t understand. you just need to be willing to communicate with him. even if he struggles to do the same with you
hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it and what is it like?)
refer to the above. he loves hugs. he gives the best bear hugs, enveloping you in those strong arms and squeezing you to his broad chest. as for how often? as often as you need/want. to use a cliche, he’s a walking teddy bear, and he doesn’t mind you treating him like one
i love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)
he never says it. it takes so so long for you to hear those three words from him… but it is in the little things. the little touches. the little squeezes. the protective, nearly possessive behavior. he loves you. you know he does. you just need to be willing to see it rather than hear it for a while
jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they get jealous?)
baby, i think this one’s better left for the other alphabet. all jokes aside, logan’s a sweetie. we know he is despite trying to come off as otherwise. but we also know he can be a bit… primal. you’re his. his territory. his pretty little thing. what does an animal usually do to show it? mark it. marks, all over the fuckin place
on the flip side, sometimes he might get a little self conscious. in his head, you deserve better. he’ll try to pull away, but if you pull him in and kiss him in front of whoever might’ve set this off, he eases up, losing himself in you instead
kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)
he will kiss you all over. he’s soft about it if he’s kissing your cheek, your forehead, your temple. he’s a tease when his lips brush along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. but when he’s kissing you, properly, especially if he’s been away from you for too long, he kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever have the chance, leaving you breathless
bonus: morning kisses are always super soft, when you’re both still wrapped in the haze of sleep
look he loves kisses from you anywhere, but what he’ll never admit is that he feels like he might melt when you kiss his knuckles. they’re a source of pain, always have been, and he used to think they always would be. but the soft feel of your lips on the sensitive skin is like nothing else
little ones (how are they around children?)
he’s great with kids! he’s a little better with the younger ones than you’d think. it’s the innocence, the kindness. something he wants to protect more than anything. but as we’ve seen with rogue, and eventually with laura, he’s a lot better with the teens too than he thinks. they know they can come to him if they’re ever in need
morning (how are mornings spent with them?)
after a bad night, you don’t let him do anything for the first hour or so of daylight. he’s learned not to argue with you when you bring him breakfast, and why would he when you sit behind him, chest flush to his back while he eats?
if it’s been a good night, an easy night, he’ll still wake up before you (usually) but he finds you tucked into his side, one leg over his and your hand over his heart. he wishes every morning could be like this as he takes your hand and brings it up to kiss your fingers
night (how are nights spent with them?)
expect many nightmares. at least for a while. sometimes he just needs to get up and do something. keep him company. sometimes (further into the relationship) he’ll talk through the memories. just listen. and sometimes he’ll be the one laying on your chest. just hold him. just let him hear your voice, let him listen to your beating heart, and let him know you will always be here
the more fun nights, well, we’ll leave that for the other alphabet. but he does enjoy a good beer or glass of whiskey, sat in front of the tv with you happily draped across his thighs, free hand squeezing at your hip, your thigh, absentmindedly, as you whine about being sleepy
open (when will they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)
if we’re talking likes, dislikes, habits, and hobbies, he won’t hide any of that. he might even invite you along to certain things, or at least to keep him company
if we’re talking something deeper, he wants to tell you everything as soon as the first thing slips. he simply can’t. it’s too overwhelming. both for him and (he thinks) for you. some things he simply might never tell you, but trust that if it’s important, you’ll know it. eventually
patience (how easily are they angered?)
he’s got a temper on him. sue me but i’m a firm believer in the “you’re the best bet to calm him down” trope. he’ll try to push you away but it’s easy to tell when he’s calm enough to actually hear you out, and when he needs a little more time, and maybe your touch. even if you’re the one he snaps at, it’s safe to assume something else was already setting him off, you just happen to be in the line of fire. trust that he’ll always make it up to you, one way or another
quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every detail or forget the minor things?)
everything. he will remember everything. his memory may always be fragmented but you? he will remember that thing you looked at a little too long at the shops. he knows what dish to ask for on your behalf if you’re out for dinner, what to add to or remove from it. miraculously, the fridge and the pantry always have your favorites in stock. fresh flowers of your favorite kind never seem to wilt on your dresser
remember (what is their favorite moment of your relationship?)
the very first time you fell asleep on him. he doesn’t know how to explain it, so i will. something within him was so touched that you trusted him like that. it likely stemmed from his own struggles with sleep. not only that but you looked absolutely adorable. he’s still got the single picture he took of you that night tucked in his wallet. you don’t know about it
security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)
incredibly protective. it doesn’t matter if he knows you can handle yourself. in his opinion, you shouldn’t have to. he won’t take any chances on losing you, anything but you
he doesn’t need protection, according to him. but if you stand up for him, defend him, maybe get a little fiery? he can’t deny that it sends warmth through his chest, and makes him want to take you home and show you just how much he appreciates you
try (how much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts)
he will act like it’s no big deal but he always, always manages to get it all just right. he doesn’t go overboard with gifts or dates. he knows just what you like and he’s not gonna go fucking it up because he wants to impress you. he knows you’ll appreciate his attention to detail more anyway. like i said before, his memory when it comes to you is absolutely infallible
ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)
sounding like a broken record here but trying to protect you from himself. pushing you away any way he can, though cruel words will dissipate the further into the relationship you get, and closed off silence will replace it instead until you coax him back to you. back to comfort. back to safety
vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)
he knows he looks damn good and the worst part is that he barely has to do anything to achieve it. his stupid hairstyle (firmly believe those are just cowlicks) and fashion sense just, work. it doesn’t hurt if you wanna compliment him though. he’ll preen under your shower of affection and praise
whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)
yes. god… don’t break him like everyone else. please
xtra (a random headcanon for them)
if you guys couldn’t tell, i have a thing for his heightened sense of smell. you asked him once what his favorite scent was and he told you something so specific, you bought several candles in an effort to match what he described. little do you know he was describing you. you are his favorite, and all the synthetic oils and waxes in the world could never come close
yuck (what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)
we’ll go with something pretty straightforward here. if you’ve got a stupid self sacrificial streak, he will lose his mind. you can’t be scaring him like that. it’s one of the few things that will genuinely set him off on you specifically, because it’s one of the few things that truly terrify him
Zzz (what are some sleeping habits of theirs?)
for a while he had the habit of moving away from you in his sleep. the problem was (neither of you knew this of course) that it made his nightmares worse. it’s understandable why he did it, especially after the incident with rogue, but you trust him, and eventually he’d finally be able to bring himself to trust that he could hold you. when he’s finally able to sleep with you in his arms, his hands have the habit of wandering… take that as you will
description: you’ve given logan a nickname. he tells you time and again to quit using it, but eventually comes the moment he accepts defeat [requested]
cw: none! just fluff
he sniffs. just faintly heard over his much heavier footsteps. “don’t start,” his gruff voice comes before he’s even around the corner and you smile innocently when he’s face to face with you… holding a beer.
“don’t start what?”
his eyes narrow and one hand pocketed in his jacket rests on his hip. you offer the bottle and he hesitantly takes it with his free one. “you know what.”
you lean towards him and he stops breathing. “don’t what-?”
“quit, kid-”
“-kitty?”
he just rolls his eyes and continues on past you, grumbling to himself as he tries to ignore the way he warms at the sound of your giggles. you do it every chance you get. he comes back from a trip, he’s had a particularly rough day, you always manage to find him and you always use that fucking nickname. he’s told you a million times to keep it to yourself. but you’re smart about it. you’ve got an offering every time. like the beer he’s currently downing.
the next day, the same thing. you find him in a quiet corner of the mansion, not travelled through much by anyone else. but you know him. you settle on the windowsill in front of his chair and his nose wrinkles slightly. “what?”
“just wanted to see how you’re doing, kitty.” you hold out a plate of food this time -he’d missed dinner?- and he stares down at it. he huffs and takes it with a muttered “thanks.”
you wait, watching him expectantly, and he raises a brow. it makes you smile, clearly amused. “i told you, i wanted to see how you’re doing.”
for some reason it still takes him by surprise. he can see it in your eyes, that you mean it. you’re not being an asshole. you’re not being sarcastic. he’s simply not used to it. “… i’m fine.”
you’re used to this. you know not to push. so you nod as if you’re satisfied even though you’re not, and you get up to walk back down the hall, squeezing his shoulder as you pass. “okay kitty-“ another round of grumbling but you continue, “you’re welcome to join me for a movie night later.” by the time he turns to look at you, you’re gone, and he’s left staring down at the plate, contemplating your offer.
he didn’t mean for it to get so late. the mansion is near silent by the time he finds himself coming down to the common area, encouraged by the sound of the television still going. maybe you’d waited…
well, you’d certainly tried.
he finds you curled up in the corner of the couch, snacks scattered over the cushions and a few drinks. both of which, he sees, you chose many of his favorites for. he feels that warmth again at the sight, and your sleepy murmurs only make it spread. guilt gnaws at him when he sees you even chose a movie he didn’t particularly hate. the least he can do, he thinks with a heavy sigh, is make sure you don’t wake up with a crick in your neck.
he shuts off the tv and leans down, one arm curling around your shoulders, the other under your knees to scoop you up against his chest and take you to your room. your head tucks just perfectly under his jaw and you murmur again incoherently, to which he replies with a nearly imperceptible apology. your voice rings a little clearer as your arms drape loosely around his neck, “s’okay kitty. knew you’d come.”
he just sighs in defeat, unable to argue with you. not when your sweetness invades his every sense and tears his guard down, piece by piece. “… ‘course, kid. always will.”
description: logan, for the first time in a very long time, is entirely unsure of what he’s doing [requested]
cw: self doubt(?), fluff [just a drabble]
logan has plenty of experience with kids.
no he hasn’t dealt with them all two hundred something years of his life, but he’s grown accustomed to their needs, behaviors. he can read people. he can read kids the best. they’re so honest and open and it makes his job so much easier.
not newborns, you have to be the gentle reminder that slams into him like a brick wall.
“done all of it. everything i could possibly- our kid doesn’t like me. i know ‘em-” his thoughts don’t even seem to fully finish while he mutters. to himself? to you? your already tired smile turns apologetic when the little bundle’s cries grow louder, and logan’s frown deepens.
“not newborns, lo. it’s different, you know that. doesn’t hate you.” his hands give way for yours as you take the wailing infant and rock gently, cooing down at those grabby little fingers at first, then shift to a soft hum while the cries settle and dissipate. he watches in near awe, but soon enough, it softens into something you can’t quite read. your humming… the way you brought him back every night. suddenly he can’t find it in himself to be upset that you immediately accomplished what he could not.
but his worry rises. by the time you do look at him again, you can see it in the divot between his brows, hand over his mouth and a sigh that pulls a rumble from his chest. “promise you m’tryin-“
“lo. lo, honey, it’s okay.” he notes how your attention divides easily to tend to both their needs. hand cradling the baby’s head, arm keeping the now quiet little one tucked to your chest -he can handle that right? he should be able to handle that- your sweet words take the place of his thoughts, and like his pride and joy in your arms, he calms, though the furrow doesn’t leave his brow. you continue, “you just need a little practice.”
“s’your first time too.”
“sure. but little lo here met me first.” you tease, reaching out to push on his shoulder and he so easily sits back on the couch with you, arm around you, big hand cradling yours as you continue rocking gently. a yawn makes you pause and he readjusts subtly so you’re half laying against him without even realizing, eyes drooping. “you’ll get there. we’ll get there. promise.”
a whirlwind of thoughts swirl through him again. so much uncertainty, so many new experiences. how is this world still finding new ways to absolutely terrify him? but it all quiets… why would he argue with you now? when you’re so close to the relief you need? instead he watches you try to hold on, like you just know he’s got something else you need to quell. “you’re right, sweetheart.”
it’s almost instant how the tension leaves your body, satisfied and tired and very quickly drifting off. it’s alright though, he’s got you. a little while later and the newest piece of his heart doesn’t even make a sound now that his arms are the cradle, just cooing in the midst of sleep while you murmur about them both. yeah, he thinks, admiring the similarities between you two. he’s got you both.
a/n: definitely not my favorite piece but i hope you guys like it at least!
