Yes! More 21+ Fics. This Is So Gd

Yes! More 21+ fics. This is so güd

First Drink 🥃

🍺・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.2k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

or

Logan gives you your first drink

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, drinking, forced alcohol consumption, dubious consent, fingering, squirting, not edited

Logan is far from a holy man. He drinks too much, smokes too often, hasn’t even stepped foot in a church in his entire life. He’d like to think he’s a good man though, one who tries to make the right decisions when he can, but he knows that what he’s like to think and the reality of it all were two wildly separate things. For how could he be a good man when he’s got it out for you, a pastor’s daughter?

He didn’t mean for it to happen. Kind of stumbled into it as one stumbles into trying cocaine. That is to say, he didn’t stumble into it at all. It was a deliberate decision made with addictive consequences. You were his neighbor, a meek, kind little thing often wrapped up in your bible while you sit quaintly on the front steps of your family house. You were young, not too young though. Freshly turned 21. Yet you still wore your modest clothing and pretty mary janes with frilly socks.

Logan was a perverted man. There was no way to get around it. You were as kind and as innocent as any one person could be. You spoke to him kindly, you brought him lemonade while he was working on his motorcycle and all he could think about was how pretty you’d look in his lap with his large hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock nestled nicely against your womb.

It was one of these days when you brought him lemonade and sat with him in his garage that he turned to you, hands covered in grease and oil. “You’re 21 now, right doll?” Logan grabbed a towel from out of the waist of his jeans and used that to clean off his hands before grabbing the small crystalline cup of fresh lemonade to sip on. It was almost as sweet as you, not nearly as pleasing to taste.

You sat on a small crate with your knees close to your chest. The toes of your sleek, black mary janes pointed to each other. “Yes sir.” He liked that about you, how respectfully you spoke to him. It reminded him of how much power he had over you, how many years, how much authority. Oh, he is far from a holy man.

“You had your first drink yet?”

You were a sweet, little thing, flustered at the mere suggestion of drinking alcohol. “Oh, no sir. I don’t drink. My father would never allow it.” You and your tender sensibilities. You and your innocent nature. Logan thought about how easy it would be to have his way with you. You wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t so much as make a peep. You’d be too entranced by the way his fingers slide along your tongue and his length snuggle sits way into the walls of your unused cunt.

Logan hummed softly. “You wanna?” He watched the way your eyes shifted as you considered it, a world within your grasp if you just had the courage to reach for it. He’d give it to you, all of it, a universe of worldly pleasures. Why restrict yourself now to go to heaven when you can have heaven on Earth right here?

“I shouldn’t.” Your voice is slow and unsure. All you needed was a little push and you’d tip right over the edge into depravity. That’s the thing about little girls like you, you long for a touch of what’s beyond you but you’re always too scared to get it.

Logan stood up to his staggering height, all legs and muscular torso. “Come on, no one will know but me and you.” He offered a hand to you and after a moment of hesitation, you placed your hand in his large palm and let him pull you up to your feet and guide you into his house. It was a world you had never before seen, rustic and dark, smelling so strongly of Logan you thought you might faint.

He had a whole cabinet for his alcohol, bottles of scotch, whiskey, and bourbon. Logan grabbed a bottle out of the cabinet along with a whiskey glass for you to sip out of. He poured some out and you watched with utter fascination. The golden brown liquid long kept from you for fear you may lose your spot in Heaven. Worldly pleasures such as drinking doomed you to Hell.

“Come here, doll.” Logan coaxed you towards him with two fingers as he sat down on his couch, legs open just enough to offer you a comfortable seat on his thighs. You trembled like a newborn deer, scared of this strange, new world you’ve found yourself in. He brought you into his lap, his hands resting on your thigh as he pushed the glass of whiskey into your hand. “Go ahead and try it.”

You looked into the glass, golden brown sloshing around. It didn’t look so intimidating, like drinking Coca-Cola. But it didn’t taste like Coca-Cola when you lifted the glass to your lips and took a sip. It tasted bitter and burned your throat as it went down. “I don’t like it.” You pouted softly, turning to look over your shoulder at Logan. His fingers slowly began to gather the fabric of your skirt, pulling it up your thigh. “Just keep drinking, doll.”

You were a good girl. You did as told, entirely unaware of the way his fingers kept pulling at your skirt until it was entirely up your thigh. You felt his rough fingertips against your bare flesh and shivered as he traced figure 8s into your skin. “Mr. Howlett?”

“Shh, keep drinking.” Logan murmured as he felt up your thigh, closer and closer to your heated cunt. You writhed in his lap, simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused as you felt his rough fingers brush against the damp fabric of your cotton panties. The stuck to your pussy lips, wet and sensitive as he pressed his thumb to your clit through the fabric and began to rub. Logan took his free hand and pushed the cup back to your lips, tilting it to force you to drink.

Logan couldn’t help himself. You were here, splayed out before him for the taking. He’d be stupid not to take advantage of, take advantage of you. You didn't fight it, just as he had expected, like a good girl. “Spread your legs now.” He clicked his tongue and crooned into your ear.

Trembling, you shook your head. “I– I can't.” Your voice, all small and meek, only made his pants tighter. You could feel it, the bulge against your ass through his jeans. Or maybe that was the large buckle against his pelvis.

“Yeah you can. Open up, doll.” He shifted you slightly so that you were sitting on one of his thighs. He used his leg to part yours a bit further, skillfully. He’s had many girls in his lap, none as pretty as you.

Logan stroked your quivering cunt. “What a wet little girl you are. You been thinking about this, pretty girl?” He bounced you on his thigh and let you slide further into his fingers. A stifled whimper escaped you as you braced yourself against him. “Mr. Howlett– please.” You pleaded for your innocence, for your integrity. Most importantly, you begged for him not to expose your innermost thoughts. The sinful way you look at him, all muscle and hair and man.

Your fingers grasped at his wrist and forearm, nails digging into his skin. It wasn't like you were trying to move his hand, not like you could if you wanted you.

You gasped as he curled a finger into the side of your soaked panties and pulled them to the side. Your cheeks began to swell with the heat of embarrassment. Of course, you never expected to have any sexual experience before marriage so you hadn't shaved between your legs. Logan didn't mind at all it seemed, his finger dipped between your lovely lips and stroked in tender touches.

You squirmed in his lap, whimpering. “Mr. Howlett, I…I shouldn't. Please.” His thumb pressed on your puffy clit, pulsing with arousal, and you choked as the electrifying jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. You had ever been touched like this before, not even by yourself. Logan’s experienced fingers circled your leaking entrance, teasing at all the possibilities of pleasure.

“No one has to know, doll.” Grunted Logan. He felt the way your pussy fluttered, the whole thing aching with want. He eased a single finger into you, sighing out a sweet “Jesus” at the way your walls clamped down around him. You let out a squeal, back arching away from him, your nails sinking into his hairy forearm. Your entire body shivered. “Too big,” you murmured, “‘s too big.”

You were small, tight, and already complaining that a single finger was too much. How could he possibly fit his fat cock into your cunt? Logan was sure he'd tear you in half, his precious girl. “Relax, grab that bottle and drink some more, baby. It’ll help you loosen up.”

With a shaky hand, you reached out and grabbed the bottle off the table in front of you. You brought it to your lips and sipped at the liquid while Logan rubbed your hip with his free hand. “Good girl. I gonna keep going now.” You shook your head viciously. “No, no, no, ‘m not ready.”

He cared not for your concerns. Free hand pulling your legs apart, Logan curled pulled his finger from your gripping cunt before sliding it back in. You were all warm and soft on the inside, just like you were on the outside, even more so. You squeaked and squealed in his lap, his thumb attacking your clit in ferocious circles.

It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, being fucked with a single thick finger. You mewled, mind growing hazy as your hips rocked against your will. Logan knew you wouldn't be able to handle a second finger. He’d rupture your hymen and he wanted to save that honor for when he pushed himself into you and possessed you completely.

You were dripping down his knuckles. He fingered you so hard and fast, you nearly screamed as you thrashed in his lap. “Mmmh ah, ah… ngh.” Something wet trickled out of you and down Logan's hand, clear and dripping. A weak, little squirt, followed by a much larger one.

“I– I’m sorry, I didn't…” You panted out, whining. Logan cooed lowly in your ear. “Got myself a squirter.” He chuckled, a nice puddle on his leg and couch from your sweet show of pleasure. He curled his finger, messaging your soft walls in desperate search of that soft ridge where your g-spot lay.

When he found it, Logan smiled, chucking as you yelped and cried out, a rattling moan shivering up your spine. You tried to slow his hand, grasping and scratching at his arm. You fell back against his chest, legs splayed open while he took the time to abuse your pretty cunt. “You okay, doll?”

You whined vaguely, hazily, your body rolling then slumping, tensing then relaxing. “I– It feels weird.” Something was building within you. Something tight and breathtakingly beautiful. Tears pricked your eyes, wide and pretty, weeping with the brutality of your orgasm, pressing on the edge of unknown pleasures.

And it snapped like a rubber band. Everything that had been held back released all at once, ravishing your body to the point where there goes pointed in your Mary Jane's and your back arched. Shaking, you clawed at Logan's arm so hard you left bright red marks lining his flesh. “Mr. Howlett!”

“Shh, shh, don't want the neighbors to hear you, do you doll?” Logan slowed his hand, pulling his finger from your aching pussy. His entire hand dripped with your cum, sweet and creamy, some slick with your squirt. “Open up, little one.” He teased the tips of his fingers to your lips like he had that glass of whiskey. Coaxing your mouth open, Logan slipped his fingers between your lips and pressed his fingers to your tongue.

You tasted nice, sweet. Your body unmarred by the poison of excessive alcohol, smoking, or junk food. You were clean and pure, untouched by anyone but him. Logan loved it, knowing that he’s the first man to ever touch you. The knowledge was almost as good as an orgasm by itself. You were his, he possessed you. You were his before you were anyone else's.

When you stood, skirt falling back down to your knees, your legs trembled with the aftershock of your first orgasm. You let out a deep, shaky breath, trembling as you turned to look at Logan’s sitting figure. “M–M–Mr. Howlett.” It’s all you could manage to say to him, choking. You had been violated; your sacred temple desecrated.

And you liked it.

Logan hiked himself up to his feet from his couch and stood before you, towering. His hands on your hips, he pulled you in close to him. You braced yourself with your hands against his solid chest. Your cheeks were still wet with tears which Logan wiped away with the pads of his thumbs. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, doll?”

You were such a good, obedient girl. You nodded slowly. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

#needthat #this is what dreams are made of

Ain’t as Good as I Once Was

warnings: old man!logan x AFAB!reader, riding, bratting, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, age gap, punishment, degradation, 18+ minors dni, divider from @strangergraphics

“C’mon, girlie, if you want it, you’re gonna have to take it yourself,” Logan’s gruff voice says from below you.

You’re sitting on his lap, trying desperately to fuck yourself on his cock as he sigs back and watches you. Despite your begging, Logan refuses to do the work for you.

“I’m too old for this shit. If you’re that fuckin’ horny, you can take care of it yourself,” he told you smugly.

You sank down on his cock and have been trying to bounce on it, but the strain on your thighs is too much to reach a satisfying pace.

“Please, Daddy, can’t you just fuck me?” you whine pathetically. Logan smirks a bit and chuckles through his nose.

“I ain’t as good as I once was, dollface. I doubt my old bones can fuck you the way you want me to,” he says, not seeming apologetic in the slightest.

You know he’s full of shit. He may be old and gray, but his healing factor keeps him in peak condition. He’d be able to fuck you just fine, he’s just a crotchety old man who wants to see you suffer for his entertainment.

He places a large hand on your hip and starts gently guiding you, urging you to rock back and forth. You follow his movements and while it’s better than what you were attempting, it’s still not what you want.

“You’re a spoiled fuckin’ princess, that’s the problem. So used to Daddy takin’ care of ya, you forgot how to ride, is that it?” Shamelessly you bite your lip and nod.

You wouldn’t call yourself spoiled. Well cared for is a better term. Logan never lets his girl go to bed unsatisfied, and now he’s suffering from the consequences of his actions.

“C’mon, flip me over and fuck me,” you say.

Logan raises an eyebrow at you.

“Who do you think you are, givin’ orders? If I want you to ride my cock, then that’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna fuck that pretty pussy with it until she’s had her fill.”

Logan lets go of your hip but you keep up with the same pace he set. With his hand now freed, he reaches over to the nightstand to grab his cigar and lighter. He lights up and smokes it as if he were at the bar, not in bed, deep inside his girl.

He looks up at you, bored, as smoke pours out of his mouth. You’ve been riding the edge of just enough for the past fifteen minutes and you’re getting increasingly frustrated with Logan’s lack of help. You briefly consider being more of a brat in hopes of egging him on enough to punish you with a hard fuck, but with the kind of mood he’s in, it’s likely that the punishment would be stopping entirely.

You let your head hang down as you brace yourself with your hands on his chest. The solid muscle covered in gray hair is hot, unnaturally so, under your touch and you desperately want to feel that heat on your back while he fucks you from behind.

“Daddy,” you plead quietly.

“What’s the matter, dollface?” he asks, playing dumb like the tease he is.

“I can’t do it.”

Logan smirks around his cigar like you just said the magic words he’s been waiting to hear this whole time.

“What’re you saying?”

You pout down at him. “I can’t make myself cum. I need you to do it for me”

Logan, surprisingly, grins at you. “Bet you regret calling me an old man now, huh?”

You furrow your brows in confusion, but you quickly realize what he’s talking about. Before this all started, you pounced on his lap and asked him to fuck you. He told you he was busy reading his book, and in your usual bratty fashion, you replied, “What, you can’t get it up, old man?”

“I didn’t mean it, Daddy,” you whine. “I swear, I was just teasing you.”

Logan hums but makes no effort to move. “Guess you better start behaving if you want something from me.”

“I promise I’ll be good. I won’t talk back anymore,” you attempt to bargain.

You both know that’s about as empty of a promise as you could give, but Logan doesn’t seem to care. He prefers when you’re trouble anyway; it’s the game you play. He’s the grumpy and mean and you’re the spoiled, demanding princess.

Logan stubs his cigar out in the ashtray on the nightstand and places both hands on your hips. He lifts you off of him with ease, something that never fails to amaze you, and sets you on the bed next to him.

He moves so he’s kneeling between your legs and holding them up around his waist, his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Spoiled fuckin’ rotten, you are,” he mutters as he pushes inside.

Logan always makes sure his girl goes to bed satisfied, no matter how much of a brat she is.

sugar | a logan howlett x f! reader

summary: if there’s one thing logan loves- it’s fucking you.

warnings: pure smut. slight dom/sub dynamics, oral, fingering, pussy pronouns, daddy kink, cigar smoking, spanking, unprotected piv, creampie, reader has hair, implied age gap, crying, etc. NOT SPELL CHECKED!

logan pats his thigh, a simple gesture that carries so much weight, so much dominance. he’s sat on the couch, legs splayed open, a bottle of beer in one hand, a cigar in the other.

“give me some sugar, baby.” he coos, beckoning you forth with two of his fingers. his lips are snarled in a twisted sort of smirk, eyes dark with the knowledge that, yes, you will obey.

you would be a fool not to. not when he treats you so sweet, not when he fucks you so good.

guiding yourself over to him, you lower yourself down until you’re straddling him, fingers twisting the hair against his neck gingerly as your thighs press against his own.

“such a pretty little thing.” his words are a growling hum that claw from the back of his throat, deep and masculine and, god above, fucking sexy. logan’s lips trail to the sweet spot right beneath your ear, and the little nip he gives your skin makes you yelp, followed by a giggle so sweet it makes his teeth hurt.

“and you’re all for me.” he claims, pulling his neck away to drink in your form. so soft, so supple- you were everything he wasn’t, a sweet and welcomed respite from his coldly metallic world.

your grinding down against the tent that’s forming beneath his pants in record time, palms flat on the broad muscle of his shoulders as he stares at you. logan takes in a deep breath, chest rising against your own as he brings the cigar to his lips, jaw tight as he breathes in the sweet smoke.

“how ‘bout you get down on your knees, let your old man see you sittin’ all pretty for him?”

you whine out with something that sounds like a protest, your clit aching for him, begging for his touch.

this isn’t logan’s first time around the block. he knows what you need, how you need it. your face is scrunched up in frustration, and he chuckles, his rough thumb spreading across your cheekbone.

“don’t worry, baby. i haven’t forgotten about her.” his hand travels down your body, and he cups your soaked pussy in the roughness of his palm. “i’ll make her feel real nice. just get on your knees first, yeah? let daddy see your pretty mouth.”

you hum out, content with his proposal, and drop to your knees before him. he sits up, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly unzips his pants, the smoke of his cigar swirling through the air, dancing across his face with shades of hazy white.

“look what you’ve done.” he tuts, and your eyes trace down to the bulge in his white boxers, the fabric stretched taut against the muscles of his thighs. there’s a wet spot pooling with his pre-cum, and you feel your tongue dripping with your own saliva.

“please.” you murmur as he takes your chin between his fingers, his thumb pressing to the soft plushness of your lower lip.

“please what, baby doll?”

you groan softly, extending your tongue against his thumb. he pops it between your lips, pressing down ever so slightly.

“please shwove yer cahck in my mouf.” your words are muffled by his digit, and logan takes a moment to process what you said before laughing.

“one more time.” he says through gleeful chuckles, removing his hand from your face. you couldn’t help but giggle, wiping a string of saliva off your chin.

“i said,” you begin, batting your eyelashes for him delicately, “please shove your cock in my mouth.”

“well…. why am i to argue when you ask so nice?”

logan pushes his boxers down, and his cock springs out with a gentle pop against his stomach, a trail of his pre-cum dripping from the patch of hair that’s made up his happy trail. you moan at the site of his length, long and veiny, so thick you can’t even wrap your entire hand around it.

still, he always loves to see you try.

logan grabbed your wrist, bringing it towards his throbbing cock. he watches as you wrap your delicate fingers around, the way you pump up, down, up down- so sweet and tentatively.

with his free hand he grabbed the cigar from his lips, exhaling a stream of smoke through an arrogant smirk.

“open up.” logan mumbles, wrapping his hand around yours as he taps the tip of his cock against your lips.

you do, your lips wrapping around his head as you suck softly, moaning at the heady taste that floods your mouth. logan grunts, barely able to hold his hips down as they jerk upwards, desperate for more of your throat.

a tiny whimper rumbles from the back of your throat, and the vibration it makes on the sensitive tip of his length makes logan groan, a groan that was dangerously close to becoming a whine.

your thighs are pressed tightly together, your own arousal pooling behind the material of your panties as logan guides your head gently with a fistful of hair, tugging ever so slightly as you take him down inch by inch. the gag you let out as he fills you deeper makes him moan, a cocky sort of moan that almost- almost- makes you roll your eyes.

you glance up at him through a blurry set of eyes, tears pricking the corners of your vision. you can see his brows furrowed, cigar hanging on by a thread between a pair of slack lips. he’s puffing out clouds of smoke, every so often combing his free hand through his head of messy hair.

“such a good fucking girl. aren’t you?” he mumbles out once your eyes meet with his, a glimmer of pride twinkling in his irises, like he can’t believe you’re actually his.

oh, but you are. and your hardened nipples poking from behind your shirt and shaking thighs prove that to him.

“yeah, that’s right. you are- you know it, too.” he chuckles through a moan, hips rutting up into your mouth, making you gag once more. “‘cause nobody else can make me feel like this. god damn, baby.”

you bob your head down, your hand at the base of his cock, moving in tune with the motion of your neck.

“pretty thing.” logan whispers, brushing a strand of hair from over your eyes. “want to taste your old man’s cum? hmm? want daddy to fill that pretty mouth up?”

you moan loudly against his dick, blinking rapidly as though it were an attempt to say- yes. fuck, yes. please.

your name tumbles from his mouth like a prayer as he cums deep inside of your throat, watching as the pretty white droplets of his spend dribble from the side of your mouth.

“all of it.” he growls, tugging at your hair as you swipe his cum up with a finger, pulling away momentarily to slowly lick it off your skin. you put his cock back in your mouth, swirling up and down until he’s clean, and his cum is completely cleaned away.

logan leans back into the couch, taking his cigar out of his mouth as he catches his breath, eyes shutting close as he comes back down to earth. a laugh rumbles through his chest, his pecs shining with a sheen of sweat, the veins on his neck still slightly budging- he waves you over with a flick of his index, and you happily obey.

“get on top of me.” he sets his cigar in the ashtray beside the couch, leaning up on his elbows. a smile stretches across his pretty lips as you straddle him once more, your underwear the only thing separating you. “lean forward. let me get a face full of those pretty tits.”

you giggle softly and nod, leaning towards him. logan takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking roughly, his facial hair scratching at the tender flesh between the valley of your breasts. his free hand creeps down your back, meeting the hem of your panties.

logan slipped his palm behind the fabric, rubbing across your ass cheek, massaging it between his fingers like he’s kneading dough. you moan out his name, cheek pressed to his forehead as you grind down against his cock that’s already hardening again. he drags his nails across the sensitive skin of your ass, down, down, down until he’s at the top of your thigh.

his fingers meet the wetness of your folds, swollen and dripping with your arousal, and he hooks you closer to him, feet pressing down on to your ankles so you’ve nowhere to run.

not that you would want to run, anyways.

logan pulls away with a pop, watching the way your mouth forms a pretty “o” as he sinks his middle finger deep within the velvet confines of your cunt. he buries his face back in to your chest, biting down upon the flesh of your breast.

you whine at the pain, feeling him suckling the tender skin, both of you knowing full well that it will leave a mark. you look down, seeing the imprints of his canines above your nipple.

“logan.” you breathe out, fingers raking through his hair. “logan, please.”

“please what? hmm? tell me what you want, what you need, baby. let your daddy give you what you want, yeah?”

“want you to make me cum.”

“yeah?” he purrs, hooking his finger up against your g-spot. you cry out, nails digging so deep into his shoulders you break flesh. you watch it form itself back together, as though there is an invisible needle, moaning out as logan sits up, holding you to his chest with one arm wrapped around your waist loosely.

“yeah. please.” you whisper, smiling at him sweetly. you lean forward, lips meeting his in a gentle kiss. logan sighs in contentment, his hand moving up to hold your jaw softly, his thumb tracing shapes into your skin as he kisses you back.

when he pulls away from your mouth, logan grins a little smirk that borders on boyish, peppering your face in more pecks before laying back onto the leather cushions.

“take a seat, baby doll.”

you moan out at the prospect of what’s about to happen, crawling on top of his face until your clothed pussy is hovering above his mouth. you hear him take in a deep inhale, your scent already memorized in his mind, already welcomed and- above all- wanted.

logan pushes the soaked material to the side, immediately sucking your throbbing clit into his mouth. he rolls the sensitive bud between his lips, moaning into your cunt as he does so.

you grind down against him, his tongue shoved into your tight hole as his nose brushes up and down. the tips of his fingers are digging into the skin of your thighs now, his nails leaving perfect crescent shaped marks that make you writhe and breathlessly call his name.

when you glance down, all you see are his eyes closed, crinkled by the side in a content smile, his head of hair splayed out across the pillows, messy and sweaty against his head.

you hold on to his scalp, grinding yourself down as he explores your cunt, his mouth devouring every inch of you until your thighs are shaking.

logan’s eyes flutter open, and you whine at the look of desire flooding them.

he wants you, and he wants you now.

his tongue flattens against your clit, long and drawn out swipes accompanying his movements. he pulls his hand away, giving you a slap on the ass that you know will leave a mark. the way your body jolts makes him chuckle into you, and you can’t help but let out a breathless laugh.

“logan.” you mutter, and he raises an eyebrow in response. “logan, please don’t stop. i’m gonna- i-”

but he’s already brought you there, right there, just one more flick and-

your vision goes blurry, mind completely empty, room completely silent, as your orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave. you cry out, your head thrown back as he guides you through your orgasm, his palms stroking the small of your back, coaxing you back to life, allowing you to come to your senses.

with a whine you move off of him, straddling his belly as he rests his grip on your hips. you look down at him, and his face is glistening with your wetness, beard completely soaked, eyes heavy lidded. he smiles when your eyes meet, and you can’t help but smile back.

oh, he loves you.

“did you like that?” he asks arrogantly. he already knows the answer, he just loves hearing your response.

“always do.” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his neck, thick and tinted red from his body heat, covered in sweat that’s salty upon your lips.

“that’s right.”

you slide down until your straddling him, his cock pressing against the folds of your soaked, swollen pussy.

“there you go, baby.” logan picks up his cigar, lighting it once more, as he guides you down the length of his cock with a steady, firm hand.

you’ve anchored yourself to him with your hands splayed flat against his chest, adjusting to the sheer size of him before rocking up and down, slowly, thighs still shaking with your previous orgasm.

logan folds his arm behind his head, watching you. his eyes move from the euphoric look in your eyes, down to your bouncing tits, down, down, down until they reach your glistening pussy, watching the way it takes his cock, so greedily and wantonly.

he puffs on his cigar, a groan following the smoke which tumbles from his lips. it’s animalistic, hungry, and there’s a look swirling about in his eyes as he watches you.

“there you go. just like that, that’s it. taking me so well. you know that? this pussy was made for me, wasn’t she?”

you whine out, nodding dumbly as you bounce up and down.

“‘course she was.” he purrs his words, hand rubbing down the side of your thigh. logan chuckles when goosebumps rise on your skin, his thumb brushing across the textured feeling before jutting his hips up in to you.

you yelp out in surprise, and he smirks. “i know you can take me, baby. i know this pussy like the back of my hand.”

you moan a long ohhhh at his words, trying to formulate something that sounds like a coherent sentence. “yes you do.” you whimper.

“yeah, i do. just sit back, let daddy fuck you. yeah?” you nod, staying where you are.

logan moves his hands down to each of your hips, cigar still hanging loose in his mouth. he stares at you for a moment before holding you in place, beginning to jerk up in to you- fast and hard, more than you ever could from just riding him.

you gasp, your pussy burning and stretching in the most delicious of ways with each thrust of his hips. his name tumbles from your mouth through a tangled up sob, your vision full of stars as he fucks you, each movement harder than the last.

“fuck. holy fuck, logan. oh my god!”

his eyebrows are furrowed, face tight with concentration as he rams into you. “that’s right.” he mutters. “do me a favor, baby?” you nod breathlessly. “get this damn thing out of my mouth.” you obey, grabbing the smoke from between his lips and holding it.

“that’s better.” he leans forward, taking your nipple in his mouth. you grind down against him with each thrust, whining out as your free hand moves to tug at his hair.

“can’t get enough of you.” he mumbles through a face full of tit. “never will.”

logan hips and bites, marks and scratches- anything to let people know that you’re his. and, god above, you are his. he had you by the throat now as he rails you, teeth barred like a caged coyote, guttural growls clawing at the back of his throat.

his canines bit deep into the flesh of your neck, your skin aching beneath his bite as he marked you. he could have just written:

Property of Logan Howlett. DO NOT touch. Especially Not You, Wade.

And that would have done the job.

but a bite. oh, a bite? well. that was so much more erotic. it was wrong, being so mean to the one you were meant to love, but logan knew- across all universes- that you loved it when the beast came out of him. you would never say it out loud, but the slight anticipation of fear, the gentle tug of worry that would slither through your belly when he got this way, excited you even more.

"oh. You like that, don't you?" his words were cocky. he already knew.

"y-es... oh fuck, yes I do."

"mhmm. just like I thought." logan was getting arrogant now, a cocky grin spread out across his lips as he watched you intently, nostrils flared as he traced over the sweat covered features of your face.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing you softly, sweetly- cresting a dichotomy of intensity snd tenderness that made your head go dizzy.

“can feel you getting tighter and tighter.” he murmured, fingers tweaking a nipple. “you gonna cum again? gonna paint your old man’s dick with your pretty cream?”

your eyes brimmed with tears, the pleasure he was feeding you too intense to even think straight. you were half sure you were drooling, a blabbering fool right in the brink of an orgasm.

“y-yes.”

“ask nicely. maybe daddy will consider it then. go on, baby, use that pretty mouth to form some pretty words.”

you cry his name, chanting it like a mantra. your legs are shaking, and your thankful for his vice grip around you, because without it you would have fallen over by now.

“please. fucking- oh god. please let me cum, daddy. please.”

“hmm.” logan thinks about it for a moment, running his thumb down to brush against your clit. you cry out, and you know it would be nearly impossible to not cum with him flicking against your sensitive little bud like that.

“do you think you should cum?”

“yes! please, logan. please just let me cum, i’ve been sweet to you today.” your voice is. high pitched whine that makes him chortle, and he nods.

“you have, baby. you’ve given me lots of sugar.”

logan kisses your jaw, nipping at it quickly before nodding. “look at me. meet my eyes.” he orders.

you quickly do as he pleases, face scrunched up in concentration so as not to release your own orgasm too soon. “my pretty, pretty girl. okay, fine. you can cum.”

“oh my god thank you. thankyouthankyouthankyou-” you cry out through closed eyes, hot trails of tears slithering down your cheeks as you whimper and shake against him.

logan growls at the sight, and you feel his own cock twitching, his cum spurting deep within you as he growls like a wild beast, his teeth gritted so hard you were sure one might break. you feel his tense jaw against your neck, feel the way he bites down on to your shoulder, nails digging deep into your sides.

you whine out, overstimulated by the pleasure you’ve just experienced, and in a single movement you both fall back on the couch.

logan is catching his breath, his cock still nestled deep within you. you nuzzle close to him, peppering kiss along his neck until he glances down at you.

“i love you.” he confesses, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“i love you too, logan.”

you’ll doze off to sleep together eventually- logan just has a cigar to finish first.

He'd definitely coo sweet nothings into your ear, transfixed by the size difference of your hand struggling to grasp his cock...

#needthat

Oh my goddddd guys I'm thinking about Logan helping you put it in holy fuck I'm gonna start crying

Unrequited

Logan Howlett x mutant fem!reader

Summary: Your deep-seated fear of rejection is the only barrier preventing you from kissing the smug grin off of Logan's face. Thankfully, Logan can smell how much you want him. *reader's power is optimism, which Logan loves distrusts. Warnings: MDNI. porn with plot, no use of y/n, implied age gap, reader is 21+, masturbation (fem!), scent kink, oral (fem! receiving), voyeurism, size difference, pussy worship, praise kink, pet names (sunshine, bub, doll, good girl), mention of unprotected p in v, using Logan's hair as handlebars. wc: 3.2k

Your world used to revolve around men. Now, your life revolves around the duty of saving it. If yearning for boys who never liked you back was an Olympic sport, you'd definitely win gold.

Everyone was in a good mood, having just returned from a government-sanctioned mission. The world needs the X-Men. You belonged to a community that respected your unique abilities. Powers aside, you were still a young woman yearning for romance. You forgot how it felt to be embarrassingly invested in a one-sided crush until you met Logan.

Your first mission seemed simple enough: act like Logan's arm candy for the night to investigate New York's elusive anti-mutant club. Memorize the names of club members, hide a mic in the manager's coat. In and out.

Unfortunately, Logan was more focused on how high the cut of your dress was. The unforgiving pink latex material suffocated your soft body and exaggerated the protruding curves of your breasts. As Charles described it, you needed to look like a liberated woman. The manager had a soft spot for confidence, and Charles explained that power attracts power.

Logan wished his hard cock was liberated from the uncomfortable friction caused by his slacks. That night, he learned that beauty truly is pain.

He watched as you glided around the room, earning lustful stares from the human members. Logan was ordered to blend into the crowd and allow you to complete the mission. His usual stoic demeanor was replaced with a charged, jealous glare.

"You're compromising the mission, Logan. I thought I taught you better," Charles tutted. His bald mentor checked in on their progress using cerebro's telepathic power.

Logan swatted his forehead, momentarily disoriented at the intrusion of Charles.

"Not my fault you put miss goody two-shoes in that god-awful dress," he snarled. "She's out of her element, and you know it."

"Her powers are extremely useful in this situation," Charles sighed. "You may not trust her, but her bubbly personality is the key to securing the club's trust. Just let her work . . . alone."

When the pressure in his head subsided, Logan knew that Charles no longer supervised the unholy thoughts bouncing against the adamantium confines of his brain.

He drifted to the bar and sat down, positioning the stool so he could maintain visual of your progress. Your kind eyes crinkled as you laughed and playfully swatted the manager's bicep. He painfully recalled the moment you revealed your powers to the group.

A month earlier, the X-Men gathered in the danger room to discuss how to approach the mission.

"The manager is emotionally vulnerable at this time. Surrounded by humans whose lives revolve around hate and mutant discrimination." Charles rubbed his temple to alleviate his anger.

"What is the opposite of hate?" Charles asked, turning his colleagues into students once again.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Please tell me it's not love, for Christ sakes."

"Optimism. The enemy of hate is hopefulness. Now, everyone, please give a warm welcome to our newest recruit." Charles gestured to a woman who was the physical embodiment of those girly 90s rom-coms Logan secretly enjoyed.

Her smile reached her eyes, symbolizing genuine happiness. She sported a vintage Talking Heads tee with an image of a lopsided smiley face. Logan's eyes drifted to the tiniest shorts he's ever seen, stopping just under the swell of your ass. Its whimsical star pattern complimented your sparkling teeth.

"Hey, guys. I'm so grateful to be here!" You cheered. Logan could tell you caught him staring by the sudden change in your demeanor.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you timidly explained, "Sorry about the get-up. My uniform's not ready yet."

Logan watched as you surveyed the room, eyes silently acknowledging Jean, Ororo, Scott, and Beast.

You confidently returned Logan's gaze with a dismissive scoff.

Logan found himself inexplicably drawn to your cheeriness. Usually, he distrusted kindness. It was a quality that was manipulated to deceive him countless times throughout the arduous decades of life he had unwillingly lived through.

Your benevolence seemed organic, almost innate.

You continued, "My power is optimism. In addition to what Charles explained, I can extract positive values from anyone and replace their malicious thoughts and intentions. Basically, I'll help the manager override his hatred of mutants. Hate is taught . . . I'll teach him a different lesson. One of hope, equality, and human-mutant coexistence."

Logan felt a blush brewing behind his rugged cheeks. Your eloquent explanation exuded more wisdom than he expected from a "sunshine and rainbows" type of girl. You matched his trademark cynicism with a grounded perspective of reality, but still saw the good in others.

Before Logan chose to introduce himself, Scott raised an eyebrow, silently teasing him for blushing at your words. Logan wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right about his budding interest in the new recruit.

He mockingly countered, "That's great, a 'glass half-full' mutant has never gotten us killed before. What's your code name, Cheshire Cat? Twinkle Toes?"

Scott caught Logan's eyes and mouthed, "Nice," with a sly smirk.

You wouldn't let him bask in the reflection of tears falling down your cheeks.

Logan cursed himself as you turned to face everyone but him. "I don't have a code name. I've got nothing to hide," you coolly responded.

Your face contorted with pain as you recalled your first interaction with Logan. After you'd successfully earned the trust of the anti-mutant club manager, however, he followed you around like a lost puppy.

Everyone was confused. This behavior was extremely irregular for a man who struggled with trusting long-term friends, let alone a woman he'd only known for a month.

He was addicted to the sweet aura of unbridled positivity that radiated from you. A tale old as time, darkness intertwining with light.

The jealousy he felt during your first mission played a significant factor in his romantic interest. It took all of his restraint (and Charles' disapproving words) not to slash the throats of every man who lusted over your latex-clad form.

You remembered Logan sitting at the bar, clearly uninterested in the mission at hand. Uninterested in you.

Clearly, communication was a skill you both needed to hone.

"Nice work, sunshine." Logan clapped a hand against your shoulder, congratulating you on another successful mission.

He was genuinely proud of you. You were awarded a medal of honor by the president for using positive forces to bridge the gap between mutants and humans.

Picking up your pace, you whipped your head around to acknowledge Logan. "Thanks. You know how much I hate that nickname, right?"

As the rest of the crew filed inside the mansion, excitedly discussing how to wind down after a job well done, Logan used his leverage on your shoulder to spin you around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Love to see how red your face gets." A smug grin was plastered over his stupid, annoying, handsome face.

You paused at the mansion's entrance. "Whatever, Logan. I'm not in the mood for your belittlement."

Slipping past the kinetic hallways of mutant students, you swung open the door to your room and started to undress, hoping to destress after a long day. You shrugged off your new uniform and slipped on your favorite Talking Heads tee, not bothering to wear shorts.

"God, so annoying." You sighed, crashing face-down into the bed. You replayed the interaction with Logan, hurt etching its way into your heart.

I won't let him get to me. He makes me feel like a fuckin' teenager!

"Nice work, sunshine," you mocked in a gruff voice.

Logan doubted your abilities, ignored you on your first mission, and patronized you with nicknames. It wasn't fun being the butt of a joke at the hands of someone you secretly admired. You wondered if his recent interest in you was malicious or sincere.

Despite the telltale signs, you seriously doubted that Logan was romantically interested in you.

Never chosen, always on the prowl for scraps of affection. Never again. Your kindness had been taken advantage of before. You quickly learned that the only person who truly loved you was yourself.

Sunshine. The crinkle of his eyes, those stupid tufts of hair that make him look like a cat.

Your hands slowly slipped under the hem of your shirt, inching towards your breasts.

He was staring at my ass when I met him. Wasn't he?

Your right hand softly tweaked your sensitive nipples. Sighing, you allowed yourself to toy with the thin band of your underwear before circling your clit.

Soft moans quickly grew into labored huffs of desperation. Lost in the gratifying haze of your pleasure, you forgot an important detail about your new living arrangement.

Logan couldn't believe the sounds he was hearing.

It's as if God himself probed his mind and decided to fulfill his deepest desires.

A beautiful arrangement of moans and sighs traveled through the hollow wood wall that separated your rooms. To confirm that he wasn't hallucinating, Logan tentatively pressed his ear against the wall.

"Oh, fuck," he heard you whine in a hushed voice.

He could hear the spontaneous hitch of your breath. "Ah! Logan . . . fuuuuck."

His body reacted to the utterance of his name, unconsciously unsheathing his claws.

It took him five seconds to bridge the distance between his front door and yours.

An abrupt knock on your door forced you to pause the act of self-love you were so invested in.

"Hello? Who is it?"

Logan smirked before answering, "It's me. You okay in there? Sounds like you're having a hard time breathin, bub."

That cocky motherfucker. You slapped a hand against your mouth to muffle your surprise. He probably heard everything, you thought, moving to open the door.

"Logan! I- I'm so sorry." You started playing with the loose strands of hair framing your face. He was leaning on the door frame, his large body teasingly blocking the entrance.

His eyes flitted to your hand, noting the nervous tick. As the scent of your hair wafted into his perceptive nostrils, his pupils dilated. He noticed the unmistakable smell of your arousal.

"No need to apologize, sunshine. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." Logan tried to ignore the enticing scent emanating from your body. His eyes searched the room for a point to fixate on. Anything but your pouty lips.

He registered bare legs. The adorable way you were standing, your right leg shifted over the left to distribute your weight. Any decorum he had vanished when his eyes landed on the girly panties you were wearing.

You inched closer to his broad frame, looking up into his downcast eyes. They were still trained on your lower half.

Sunshine. The heavy weight of his gaze. Familiar hallmarks of past interactions. Except this time, he was gawking at your panties instead of those cosmic booty shorts.

"I can smell you. Can't be that unbearable to be around, hm?" Logan teased, finally making eye contact.

"No, you're still an asshole. I'm done playing hot and cold with you." Your clothed tits grazed his taut stomach.

"You want this? Because if not, I'll take it like a man and leave." Logan asked, searching your face for any signs of hesitation.

You averted your eyes. "Do you want me?"

He understood why your response was laced with insecurity. His previous actions had placed a seed of doubt in your mind. Logan gently raised your chin, tilting your eyes into his. "Of course I do, doll. I might be a stubborn asshole, but I'm not too stubborn to admit that I want you. Always have, since I first met ya."

Shock flooded your features. A charged silence lingered in the air.

You caught Logan staring at your lips.

"Just kiss me, you big oaf." You brazenly commanded.

The arm that leaned against the door frame descended to the small of your back, pulling you close to his chest.

Logan closed the gap, not wanting to give you any reason to doubt his feelings for you.

It started sweet and timid, an innocent collage of bumping noses and delicate gasps. When you pulled apart for air, a thin string of spit connected your bottom lips.

You decided you needed his lips on yours in a drastically different way.

"Since you're here, think you can help a girl out?" You pushed yourself away from Logan, palms extended to his chest. You sat on the edge of your bed, slowly spreading your legs.

Logan choked on his words. "I, uh . . . I'd love to." Once in front of you, he kneeled down on his knees.

The playful contrast between your vintage Talking Heads tee and the lacey pink panties that covered your most intimate area made him dizzy.

The frilly nature of it was enough to make him crazy, but they just had to have a cute little bow at the top.

Logan ground himself into his jeans, its denim fabric the only layer separating his cock from the air.

"You sure about this, doll?" he asked, reluctantly drawing his eyes away from your cunt to analyze yours.

You tentatively weaved your fingers through his hair, paying special attention to the tufts. When he leaned into your touch, you knew that the admission of his affection was genuine.

Your hands ghosted over his, pulling them to land on the wide expanse of your thighs.

"I need you, Logan. I want this. Want you."

That was all Logan needed to hear before he hooked four fingers around the elastic of your panties, slowly moving them off of your legs.

You shivered when the room's cool air met your bare cunt.

Logan hooked his strong arms under your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed with ease. "Much better, doll. Wanna be close to her," he drawled, resting your legs over his shoulders.

His mouth hovered over you, fanning warm breaths that made you throb with anticipation.

Logan's lips ghosted over where the bow on your panties was and descended where you needed him most.

He gently kissed your clit, earning a soft gasp.

"Yeah, you like that, baby?" You whined a high-pitched "Mhm . . ."

Logan suddenly licked a broad stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting your wetness on the tip of his tongue.

"Need your words, bub. Wanna hear you."

He pulled away momentarily, massaging the sensitive flesh of your thighs. "Oh my god. Yes, I love it . . . please don't stop," you whined.

"That's a good-" Logan paused to pool the release still on his tongue and let gravity drip it onto your folds. "-girl. Fuck."

You sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth. He stared at your cunt fluttering open and closed in response to the contact, aching to be filled.

He would tend to that later. Right now, he wanted to make you feel loved, cared for.

"You taste so fuckin' sweet, doll." Logan cooed, tracing the sensitive outline of your hole before sinking two of his thick fingers into your warmth.

Your hands found purchase in his hair, gasping at the sight of him stretching your walls. He slowly thrust his fingers in and out, steadily building the tension in your body.

"Yeah, hold onto me . . . guide me where you need me." The soft squelch of your wetness made him groan into your pussy.

"Fuck . . . you sound so beautiful, baby." Logan praised, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your clit once again.

He alternated between languidly enveloping your folds with his mouth and licking urgently at your sensitive bud.

"Ah! I- I'm close, Logan." You mewled, hips suddenly rising off the bed. The spontaneous action made your clit catch on the ridge of his strong nose.

You locked his head in between your legs, thighs abruptly closing due to the contact.

"You like that, hm?" he teased. You nodded rapidly, capturing your bottom lip in an attempt to subdue the embarrassing whines Logan was drawing out from you.

Once your thighs rested back on the bed, Logan pulled your legs even closer. You couldn't believe your eyes.

He started making out with your pussy.

Logan's mouth opened and closed again and again, latching onto your swollen lips. His pursed lips glistened with your release.

He actually sighed into your body when a particularly noisy kiss made you clench around his fingers.

"That's my good girl. So responsive . . . can you come for me, baby? Wanna taste you."

He curled his fingers, coaxing the spongy pad of your cervix on every thrust. His palm met your pussy with a steady plap, burying his fingers into your crying cunt.

Your legs started shaking. Unable to stave off your release, your thighs fluttered around Logan's head.

"Oh, fuck, Logan . . ." you moaned, sharply tugging his hair while falling backward onto the bed. You couldn't bring yourself to watch his sly grin as you came undone around him.

"Yes . . . ohmygodohmygod, ah!" You incoherently babbled.

Logan playfully slapped your puffy folds, stimulating you through your orgasm.

"Aw, would 'ya look at that . . . your pussy's blushing just for me, doll." He pressed another kiss to your pulsing clit, smirking into your skin.

He slowly removed your legs from his shoulders and caged your body under his, arms outstretched so as not to crush you.

Logan traced the plush outline of your bottom lip, teasing, "Speechless, huh? Guess I'm not that big of an asshole."

Your pupils dilated as you caressed the rugged expanse of his cheek. You hummed a soft, "Mhm . . ." in response, too fucked out to mumble something more comprehensible.

"Figured you deserved to feel good after what I put you through." Logan averted his eyes. He felt guilty, opening his mouth to apologize, but you silenced him with a sloppy kiss.

You tapped his right arm, silently asking him to lay down on the bed next to you. He moved to cuddle you, but you turned around and straddled his pelvis.

Grinding over his clothed bulge, you teased, "No need to apologize, Logan." Your release was creating a noticeable wet spot on the faded denim.

His hips bucked up to meet your tantalizing movements. His back arched at the thought of his bare cock finally feeling the plush embrace of your cunt.

"Let me make it up to you . . . you deserve to feel good, too."

Logan's hands rested on your torso, stilling your hips.

"If you keep moving like that, I won't get to come inside of you. You want me to fill you up? Hm?"

You mischievously dragged your cunt over the fly of his jeans, clit catching on the button.

"Who said you couldn't come in me more than once?"

Logan wrapped his arms behind the small of your back, pulling you to crash against his broad chest. His lips found your ear.

He whispered, "You fuckin' tease. Be careful what you wish for, bub. I have regenerative powers, remember? Could fuck you for hours, if you let me."

You suddenly nipped at his earlobe. "Oh, yeah? prove it. I'm not so sure, old man."

Logan propped up your chin, caressing the supple skin of your cheeks. Eyes darting between your doe eyes and pouty lips, he responded, "If I didn't heal so fast, you'd be the death of me."

You sealed his promise with a sweet kiss. The only lack of communication in your blossoming relationship would occur during intimate moments like these, lips slotted into the other's, ethereal sighs mingling with his intoxicating groans.

Whew! I spent a lot of time refining this one. I'm slowly working on improving the pacing and atmosphere of my work. Thank you for reading! Reblogs are extremely appreciated :)