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violetflowerswrites · 3 months ago

Text

Sweetheart

Pairing: Logan Howlett X Female Mutant Reader

Era: X Men 1 / Trilogy

Summary: Logan and the resident therapist for the mutant school grow closer due to Logan’s resistance to her emotional manipulation powers. A friends with benefits situation naturally leads to falling for each other.

Word Count: 6.5k

Disclaimers: smoking, mentions of cheating, mentions of mental health issues (PTSD, trauma, self-harm/suicide), swearing, explicit sexual content. Consensual kissing, touching, oral sex, and p in v sex. Logan has a bit of a pain kink. 18+ mature only. Minors DNI.

A/N: I recently re-watched X1 because Logan has been on my mind since the Deadpool and Wolverine movie this past summer. And holy hell Hugh Jackman is SO cute and SO sexy and SO flirty in X1 that I couldn’t help but write this absolutely depraved, incredibly smutty (and soft!) fic. Seriously, it just kept getting longer and longer because of all the smut scenes. Enjoy!

…

The first thing you noticed was the hairy forearm laid heavily on your stomach. The heft of it acted as a natural weighted blanket, lulling you into that peaceful haze between wake and sleep.

But the laughter and squeals of kids playing in the freshly fallen snow outside your window invaded your mind with happy energy.

Excitement and adrenaline.

Winter morning sunshine and the holiday spirit.

Too bad you still hadn’t quite mastered how to dial the volume down of the outside world so you could sleep in.

With a contented sigh, you turned and gazed at the weather-tanned face of Logan, aka The Wolverine.

He was scruffy, rough around the edges, and altogether too much of a flirt to be boyfriend material.

But that was exactly how you liked your men.

Emotionally unavailable?

Check.

Morally ambiguous backstory?

Check.

Utterly ravishing in bed?

Check.

Logan and yourself definitely had a friends with benefits situation going on. Not that anyone would have bothered to say anything. Although you hoped Professor X wasn’t spending his free time dipping into the confines of your mind.

You see, you were the in-house therapist. You knew everyone’s secrets so they didn’t dare share yours. It was the best insurance policy in a school full of mutants you could have gotten.

Ever since you were young, you had always been “in-tune” with others’ emotions. Uncannily so.

Somehow you didn’t question this, but the obvious career of choice was to become a therapist.

It wasn’t until your college boyfriend cheated on you and you felt so overcome with rage that you told him to drive himself off a cliff.

And he did.

But not really.

He was so upset that you caught him in bed with another woman, that he stopped paying attention to the road on the way home and got into a little fender bender. A trip to the ER and a few bruises and a cracked rib later, it was more than enough to scare you into thinking that perhaps your influence was more than just a high EQ.

So you tested your powers. First, getting your roommate to stop stealing your food from the fridge. Then, helping your sister reconcile with your mom over Thanksgiving dinner. After that, soothing crying babies in seconds. Calming down PTSD patients in relapse episodes. Catching students in mental health crises before they did something they could never take back.

Before you knew it, you were making six figures post-grad at a fancy private clinic for celebrities in Hollywood whose biggest problems were having way too much money and convincing themselves that they had every disorder in the DSM-5.

Then, Professor X found you. And hired you on the spot to be the school counselor / therapist / shrink / lady-who-you-talk-to-lying-on- the-couch, at his school for mutants.

Sorry—at the “Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters” as it officially said on your business card.

…

The peaceful inhales and exhales of the human heating pad next to you put you in a nostalgic mood. So you burrowed down deeper into the covers and remembered handing that exact business card to the burliest man you’d ever seen in your little office.

That was the first thing you noticed when Logan walked in through the mahogany wooden door almost half a year ago now. How he filled up the door frame with not just height, but pure mass of muscle.

Jesus Christ, is this man on steroids? You remembered thinking.

The second thing you noticed was the hair. Thick and dark and messy, but pointed and shaped exactly like ears.

The third thing was his hands. Almost always in fists, as if he was ready to fight in a moment’s notice.

Which he probably was.

Ah. You had thought to yourself then.

This is why they call him The Wolverine.

“Good morning!” You greeted him warmly, trying to exude as much welcoming energy as you could.

It was met with a brick wall and a single grunt of acknowledgment.

Not fazed in the least, you gestured to a plush deep espresso-colored leather sofa that matched the soothing wood tones of the room.

“You’re not gonna ask me to lie down on that, are ya?” Logan gruffed out.

”Totally up to you.” You tried to disarm him with a smile, which he resolutely ignored. So, you handed him your business card and he begrudgingly took it, though he barely glanced at it and tossed it on top of the cushions.

Then, Logan pulled out a lighter and a cigarette from his leather jacket and took a long drag.

“Mind if I smoke?” Logan asked afterwards, with an arched brow.

Clearly he was trying to get a rise out of you, so you ignored the blatant lack of manners and simply shook your head and tried to make a joke.

“Not if you’re willing to share.” You half laughed, half coughed.

“I doubt a pretty lil thing like you smokes Malboro reds, much less a shrink.” Logan exhaled another thick column of smoke.

“You don’t know where my mouth has been.”

The words slipped out of your smiling lips before you could catch them, and you mentally slapped yourself for letting your intrusive thoughts come out.

Logan’s jaw dropped open, before he quickly shut it and kept a firm grip on his cigarette before it fell and burned a hole into Professor X’s very expensive carpet.

You felt a shift in the room. Logan’s energy was defensive, reluctant, and suspicious when he walked in.

Now, it was undoubtedly aroused.

To you.

Goddammit.

“I apologize. That wasn’t very professional of me. I’m going to be straight with you because I know that Professor X requested that you to come here. He specifically asked me to help you recover some memories, possibly work through some PTSD and figure out who…” you hesitated, searching for a polite way to phrase what you wanted to say next.

“Fucked me up with their experiments?” Logan laughed bitterly. “No need to sugar coat it, sweetheart.”

“Ahem. Yes. But now I’ve clearly given you mixed signals—“

“Mixed signals?” Logan grinned impishly. “I’m just picking up what you’re putting out.” He leaned back into the sofa.

“Well, that’s not exactly it. You see, I have the ability to read emotions.” You explained, “and influence the emotions of others.”

“Really?” Logan looked intrigued, but not quite convinced. “Tell me what I’m feeling right now.”

”You came in unwilling and totally against seeing a therapist.” You took a breath. “And now you’re curious, and a little attracted to me right now.”

“Not just a little, Doc.” He took another drag of cigarette.

“I’m sure you tell that to all the girls.” You waved away his comment, trying to not let him make you blush.

“Nah.” Logan exhaled. “Tell me I’m lying.”

“Well, I can’t do that. But I can change how you feel.” You offered.

“Try me.” He sat up in his seat, leaning forward in a challenge. “Make me not feel attracted to you.”

You furrowed your brow in concentration. Emotions were a finicky thing to manipulate, but your powers helped you “see” the feeling, almost like an aura or energy around the person.

Logan’s right now was pulsing, wafting off his body towards you, as his locked eyes with yours.

So you tried, pushing it back. Changing its shape, its color.

Its taste in your mouth.

But it stayed the same.

Sweet, sultry, and utterly addicting.

“What the hell?” You muttered. Your professionalism fell away as you were caught by surprise yet again by this man.

“What?” Logan murmured.

“It’s not…I can’t…” you trailed off, perplexed.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Logan teased, “powers don’t work on me?”

“Holy shit.” You whispered to yourself. “Holy shit.” You emphasized the expletive in shock.

Logan’s face fell when he realized you weren’t messing with him. Your powers actually didn’t work on him.

“Stay right there. Don’t you dare leave!” You thrusted a finger in his face and practically ran out the door, your eyes shining in excitement.

And you left a very confused Wolverine in his seat.

It turned out, The Wolverine had very strong resistance to psychic-type powers. Your powers were much weaker than Professor X, or even Dr. Jean Grey’s, so it was easy for him to subconsciously block them off. When you were first hired, you worked with Professor X and Jean a lot, trying to improve your manipulation abilities, but they could always tell when you were trying to change their emotions. Others like…say…Cyclops for example? Not so much.

You chuckled aloud at the juvenile pranks you pulled with Jean, like making Cyclops feel so confident he sober-karaoked on a night out, and you and Jean recorded his performance, clutching your sides with laughter.

He was actually an excellent singer, but he never let the two of you hear another note again. After all, your powers changed emotions, but not memories.

…

Logan shifted on the mattress, feeling the vibrations of your quiet laughter, and he let out a sleepy groan. You held your breath until he settled back into stillness, not meaning to wake him just yet.

Your mind wandered again to another memory.

“You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles, sweetheart.” A rough voice interrupted your concentration and smoothed your forehead with an equally rough thumb.

“Stop calling me sweetheart, it’s distracting!” You playfully shoved Logan in the shoulder and he didn’t budge an inch. The man was built like a tank and had absolutely no qualms attacking you.

With his constant, less-than-subtle flirting that is.

“How’s this for distracting?” Logan grabbed your waist and plopped you right in his lap. Your tight black skirt rode up your thighs in a decidedly unprofessional manner. Logan’s eyes immediately flickered down to your exposed skin, before he brought your hands up to the sides of head.

“Jesus Christ Logan, I’m trying to get better at this.” You huffed out exasperatedly, but you could feel Logan’s emotions charging up, along with your own.

Attraction.

Magnetic, sensual, delicious attraction to each other.

It didn’t take mutant powers to see that the two of you had chemistry. The tension had been building for months since that first day Logan stepped into your office. Now, it was another matter entirely to test if you had sexual chemistry. Which Logan always seemed to push the boundaries on.

Because now, here you were, sitting on the lap of a man who you were supposed to be helping, training with, and trying to practice your powers on.

And your attention was wholly on how thick and hard and firm his rolling thigh muscles felt under the pliant flesh of your ass. You subconsciously sank down further into his lap and Logan closed his eyes in a slow couple of blinks.

“Careful there, sweetheart.” Logan’s voice came out with more gravel than he intended.

“Oh, are we feeling a little distracted?” You whispered in a smirk, your hands practically grasping the thick aura of attraction between the two of you.

The strength of Logan’s emotion was quite literally making you feel drunk with arousal. You could tell Logan noticed the increase in the thrumming of your heartbeat and the speed of your hot breath so close to his face.

“What am I feeling right now?” Logan searched your eyes, his tone filled with barely masked self-control, desire, expectation.

“Tell me.”

You sucked in a shaky breath. “You wanna fuck me.”

“You’re damn right I do.”

Logan’s strong hands tangled in the hair at the back of your head as his lips, teeth, and tongue clashed messily with yours. He didn’t hold back anything, and it felt like he was devouring you whole. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, pushing the leather jacket off and you dug your fingernails into the thick muscle of his biceps.

Logan released your mouth with a growl, and he wasted no time nipping, sucking, and licking all over your neck and collarbone.

Meanwhile, you were transfixed by how the bright pink lines of your scratches were healing on his tanned skin. Curiosity got the better of you and you tried scratching him again, harder this time.

“You trying to hurt me, sweetheart?” Logan grumbled hotly against your ear.

“Mmm maybe?” You giggled, sighing into his lips that were pressing kisses against the side of your face.

“Good.” Logan kissed down your throat, ripping apart the buttons of your work blouse as he went. “I like a bit of pain when I’m fucking.”

You peeled off the top and your lacy black bra, exposing your bare breasts to Logan and he promptly buried his face in your flesh, clearly enjoying himself with your body. Unseemingly moans continuously poured out of both of you and your lust-riddled brain somehow remembered that it was the middle of the workday and you were in your third floor office that anyone could walk by.

“Logan, hold on—I need to…” You gasped out in stuttered breaths.

“Mmph” he grunted back, his teeth having found your perky nipples and he was clearly too focused on that to hear a thing you said.

So you grabbed a thick tuft of his hair and yanked his head back, to which the man actually snarled at being interrupted.

Unafraid, you laughed with delight and kissed him deeply. He tasted of cigarettes and salt and a delicious musk that solely belonged to him.

“I need to close the curtains and lock the door, Logan.” You reprimanded.

Resigned, Logan spread his arms to the back of the couch as he watched you secure the room. Even with your back turned, you could feel that his gaze never wavered from you. The lust poured off of him in waves that pulsed with every breath he took.

It was a deep red, thick like a fog, and it filled your nostrils, your head, your senses entirely. You’ve never felt your powers be so entirely overwhelmed by a single person before.

But Logan was not just anyone.

“I can feel so much from you.” Your voice dropped down into a strained whisper as you stepped back towards him, in between his man-spread legs. You reached a hand behind you to unzip your skirt, and Logan licked his lips once he saw the little black thong you had on underneath. He quickly undid his belt buckle and threw it to the side with a clatter. You slid your hands up his chest slowly, inhaling his scent as you kissed the side of his neck, finding a single vein throbbing with his increased heartbeat.

His white tank fell in a heap on the floor. A second later, dark blue jeans followed suit. Finally, you used your free hand to yank his boxers down and he was completely bare before you at last.

“What do you feel?” Logan could not stop staring at you, at your body, and following every motion of your hands.

You straddled his lap, a knee on either side of his thick thighs. Logan released a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you sat your bare bottom on his lap once again.

Instead of replying, you whispered into his mouth, “Cut off my thong.”

Thrill licked up your spine as you watched a single blade release from his right hand, and Logan oh-so-carefully sliced the string of your panties along your hips. Silently, you both watched as it slid off your heated skin.

You rewarded him with another kiss, running your tongue along the inside of his mouth. He nudged his nose into your cheek, desperate for more.

Meanwhile, you reached down between your bodies and found his painfully erect member. Your lips swallowed the needy growl that escaped the back of Logan’s throat. It made a slow smile spread on your face.

This man wanted you as badly as you wanted him. And neither of you could wait a second longer to devour each other like animals.

“I feel your desire.” You finally answered his question, just as you pulled his thick cock towards your ready core, and you sank down in a single motion.

You both released the most guttural groan at the same time. Logan was a huge man and he had a cock to match. The head pushed against your cervix and you felt positively stretched out trying to accommodate his girth.

Logan filled his hands with the supple flesh of your hips, pulling you up only for you to slide back down, your slickness coating him well.

You braced yourself on his shoulders, raising yourself onto your knees until he was nearly slipping out of you. You glanced down between your two bodies, getting a glimpse of his glorious cock.

“Stop teasing.” Logan panted into your chest, his own already shining with sweat.

You smirked and lowered yourself again, slowing down even more.

Tantalizing The Wolverine with the hot suck of your pussy.

Pressing your soft breasts into the mass of hair on his chest.

Your mouth unrelentingly kissed his scruffy face and wet lips.

“Sweetheart.” Logan’s nickname for you was strained out through clenched teeth.

Laced with warning.

You paid no heed, continuing your teasing movements until, with a roar of impatience, Logan sunk his fingers into the soft fat of your ass and thrusted upwards as hard as he could.

You released his lips with a yelp of surprise and he set a brutal pace. Logan’s length drilled into your hot core, stretching you, spearing you far deeper than you could have ever expected.

“O-oh my god! Logan! S-slow down!” You implored, but Logan had other plans for how he was going to wreck you.

Every thrust was met with a hard slap of skin on skin, and the most you could do was simply dig your nails into his biceps, this time, drawing blood with how hard you were holding on to him.

The pain however, simply goaded him to keep railing you like a rag doll. His cock buried itself to the hilt only to pull out and push back in again, over and over, as if it could never be satisfied.

You had a feeling that Logan had stamina for hours. The Wolverine could just keep going until both of you lost the ability to move. As much as that sounded incredible, the thin trails of blood running down his skin forced you to reconsider how much sex the two of you could handle. At least for the moment.

“Logan, s-seriously. You’re bleeding.” You finally managed to say.

“It’ll heal.” Logan ground out. But, he did slow down until you sat back in his lap, running your fingers along the cuts your fingernails had caused. He wasn’t wrong; each small wound was closing up at a remarkable speed.

“I don’t want to hurt you each time we have sex, Logan.” Even if he liked pain, you didn’t feel comfortable inflicting injury on this beautiful man. Or getting too rough too fast.

“You could never hurt me, sweetheart.” Logan assured you, holding you more gently now, his breath coming in heavy pants. But, he could see the worry on your face, so he kissed the sweaty furrow of your brow.

“Okay. We’ll take it slow. I won’t be so rough, unless you say so.” He murmured against your skin. The both of you were drenched in sweat as if you had run a marathon.

You carefully untangled yourself from Logan’s body and stood up on wobbly legs. You were already feeling a dull ache of soreness between your thighs.

“Hold on-you said ‘each time we have sex’ as in…” Logan questioned.

“Oh we’re not done. You haven’t even made me cum yet.” You grinned at him, walking over to your desk.

You sensually bent over, presenting your slick-shiny slit to Logan.

“I doubt you could stay away from me after you’ve had a taste.” You teased him, the desperation for this man to give you an orgasm making the dirty talk stream out of your lips. Your outside persona as the put-together empath long gone in favor of the filter-less, horny, and needy slut you really were.

Logan immediately crossed over to you in a few strides, holding the weight of his still-erect cock over your waiting entrance.

As he pushed into you, one hand holding you down onto your desk, he corrected your statement.

“You’re wrong, sweetheart.” Logan explained. “I couldn’t stay away from you before you let me fuck this sweet pussy.”

His deliberate slowness was absolute torture on your body. He filled you up in a way no man, no mutant had ever done before.

“Oh! Right there, Logan!” You moaned out, barely hearing what he said. His cock now pushed against that delicious spongy center in your cunt. He then pulled out, admiring the way your juices coated every thick vein on his member.

He entered you again, just as slowly, making sure both of you felt every inch of his invasion. Your hands reached over to the other side of the desk, your white knuckled grip clutching the edge. You needed to hold on to something, anything to ground yourself or you were going to lose it with how Logan was tormenting you with his cock.

“P-please, keep going!” The desperation in your voice turned whatever you said into a whine.

A few thrusts later, and you could feel that familiar tightening in your core. You were getting so close, and you were sure that the helpless moans that kept coming out of your mouth were an obvious indication to Logan that you were about to cum.

“I knew I wanted to make you scream my name with my cock the very first day we met.” Logan finally concluded, his voice hot in your ear as he pressed his chest onto your back. At the same time he gave this sinful confession, he reached a hand down to find your swollen clit and touched you in just the right way, as if he had done it a million times before.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you came immediately.

”Oh—!”

In the haze of the most explosive pleasure you’ve ever felt, you registered three sensations at the same time.

First, wet jets of his expend painted the hot skin of your back.

Second, a rough hand clapped over your mouth, muffling the orgasmic scream of The Wolverine’s name that was ripping through your lungs.

Third, fireworks. You’ve never seen a man cum so hard that your powers registered an orgasm as fireworks. It was usually a quick flash of light like an old-school camera, but Logan came so hard that his pleasure was literally illuminating your senses like it was the 4th of July.

It was beautiful to witness.

And even more satisfying to participate in.

Breathless, speechless, and completely and thoroughly fucked, you turned around and simply grinned at the sexiest, horniest, hottest man you’ve ever had sex with.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to set up regular “Friday Fucknights” after that.

…

You slowly unfurled your clenched fists from the comforter that you didn’t know you were squeezing tight.

Goddammit.

All the memories of the first time you and Logan had sex made you decidedly horny. Even after Logan had given you a good rough fucking the night before.

Flashes of last night whipped through your brain.

Your face buried in the mattress, your moans disappearing into the fabric.

The cold breeze on your bare ass, raised up to meet Logan’s face.

The scruff of his beard rubbing against your skin.

His nose inhaling your sinful scent.

His lips and tongue eating you out for dessert after he surprised you with a date to a local steakhouse.

It was one of the few dates Logan spontaneously took you out on and it would always start the same way:

“Wanna go for a ride?” He’d ask you.

“Sure.” You’d reply.

And you’d end up at some isolated restaurant with Logan inhaling a monstrous slab of meat as you complained about all the teenage drama you were trying to counsel students through.

A few drinks and naughty kisses in the back corner booth later, the night always ended in your usual sex.

And you know you were clear to him that you just wanted the sex, no strings attached. You told him from the get-go that dating wasn’t really your thing. Due to the nature of your powers, you could never be sure if your partners actually loved you or if it was your love for them influencing how they felt about you. After all, if your powers influenced most mutants, then regular humans were even more susceptible.

But sex with Logan was perfect. Even those random dates were guilt-free and stress-free, because you could finally just be with someone who you didn’t have to worry about any of that with.

At the same time, Logan was intense. It was probably a good idea that you basically saw each other once a week for sex and stayed the hell out of his way the rest of the time.

Honestly? You could only handle The Wolverine in doses.

Between his traumatic hidden memories that emerged in daily nightmares…

And his overwhelming sexual desire for you…

The man was going to be the death of you.

…

A pained sound, almost like a whimper came from Logan. You could see a few beads of sweat break out on his forehead, and you quickly grabbed one of his clenched fists. Your hands gently rubbed over the knuckles where his blades lay hidden beneath a thin layer of skin. In a moment, Logan’s face relaxed and his eyes began to flutter open.

You sighed in relief.

Unfortunately, even though you could only handle Logan once a week, it was clear that Logan wanted you much more than that.

After that first month of Friday Fucknights, Logan had quickly figured out that spending the night with you acted as a natural sleep drug. He suspected it was your powers, or maybe it was just you.

Because somehow, when you were in his bed, he could finally wind down and slumber nightmare free. You noticed it too - his aura turned to a soft, amber yellow when he was sleeping next to you. The emotion of peace and contentment.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Logan murmured, his fingers now interlaced with yours. He brought your entwined hands up to his lips so he could press his lips to it.

Goddammit. There it was again.

The unmistakable feeling of love - pink, swirling wisps floating gently in the air. The smell of those quintessential roses and a deep warm fuzziness in your belly that felt like home.

Logan reeked of it.

…

You first noticed it at the date last night. You were complaining about some adolescent love triangle that Bobby and Rogue and Kitty had tangled themselves up in and Logan was teasing you about it. He was nursing a beer, chuckling as he laughed both at you and with you.

And there was a pause right after the laughter faded where you recognized the emotion he was feeling. You clocked it as soon as he took a sip of his bottle and looked right into your eyes.

Something that you hadn’t felt before from him.

Love.

You immediately deflected by saying something sexual to distract him from thinking too hard about what he felt and his aura quickly switched to that familiar red-hot lust.

That’s all you wanted from him.

That’s all you needed from him.

Right?

From there it was an illegally-fast motorcycle ride back to the mansion for some rough fucking.

…

Trying to hide your unease about his feelings, you hoped he didn’t notice the elongated pause before your reply this morning. Your thoughts were racing about the implications of The Wolverine falling in love with you.

You shouldn’t.

You couldn’t.

Fuck, you needed to distract him.

And yourself.

“Good morning, Logan” you finally snapped out of it and smiled at him. “You feeling alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He opened your palm up and kissed it again, this time, giving your skin a little teasing lick.

“You were tossing in your sleep a little.” You explained, “but I’m about to make you feel all better.” Your voice dropped flirtatious and low.

“Is that right, sweetheart?” Logan’s lifted a brow as you burrowed under the blanket, feeling the waves of heat emanating off of him.

You quickly shimmied down until your face was right in front of his thick cock. After all the sex last night, Logan hadn’t bothered to put on clothes again before he fell asleep.

Neither had you.

Your tongue found his shaft first, while your hands gently caressed his balls. They felt heavy and warm in your palm as you licked up and down his cock.

Above you, Logan immediately twitched and grunted at your touch.

“Mmph - that’s—!” Logan could barely say.

“More?” You teased from under the covers.

“Y-yeah. Please, sweetheart. Give me more.” He groaned, one hand tangling itself to your hair. He gave you a slight, sharp tug that made your arousal flare up.

You took a deep breath before closing your mouth onto the head of his cock, and sucking hard and holding him hostage in return.

“Fuck!” Logan swore, blood rushing down to his member. You could feel him growing in girth, opening your jaw wider, your tongue sliding under him. You refused to let him go, hollowing out your cheeks, drawing him deeper until you had to surface for air.

“Yummy.” You grinned devilishly, swiping away the trail of saliva down your chin.

“My messy girl.” Logan pulled your chin closer until his lips pressed against your mouth. You threw the covers off of the both of you, and climbed on top of him.

“Mmm.” You moaned, his tongue was dancing with yours and it was driving you crazy. “As much as I love kissing you Logan, I think I’d rather ride you today.”

“Be my fucking guest.” Logan smiled against your mouth before releasing your face with a filthy wet smooch.

You admired the ripple of his abs as he leaned against the pillows, his huge arms thrown behind his head. The sight made you lick his taste off your lips, and liquid heat rushed to your core.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about all morning?”

You knelt beside him, your knees squeezing into his hips as you reached below you. God, he was huge. A fact you admired every time you took his substantial girth into your hand.

“What, sweetheart?” Logan gazed at you with a bemused expression on his face.

“The first time we had sex.” You continued. The head was breaching the tight ring of your pussy now.

“That was a great day.” Logan’s chest rose as he sucked in a breath, holding it as he watched you sink down until your bottom was flush to his strong thighs.

“That was a fucking incredible day.” You moaned at the feeling of being so full, so full of him. “And I was sitting pretty in your lap, just like I am right now.”

“Y-you spoil me, sweetheart.” Logan released his breath in a whoosh, his words starting to stutter just like his hips.

“Ah ah ah.” You pulled his hands away from your ass and up to your breasts. ”Don’t rush me.”

Logan responded with a frustrated groan, even as he kneaded your soft flesh and pinched your nipples.

“Fuck that’s good.” You praised him and rewarded him with a roll of your hips. You let his cock slide out only to suck it back in with your next movement.

“I want to feel you, Logan.” You leaned down to press a kiss onto his open mouth. “All of you.”

Without waiting any longer, you bounced your ass on top of his cock, suddenly riding him like your life depended on it.

Logan wrapped his arms around your back as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Expletives flying and a whole host of unseemly sounds spilled out of the both of you.

But nothing compared to the sweet sound of his cock and balls slapping against the soft cheeks of your bottom.

And the messy wet squelch of juices that were streaming out of your pussy and coating his length.

“S-sweetheart! I c-can’t!” Logan’s whine almost made you laugh. Your pussy was so good that it made The Wolverine beg to cum. What a fucking power trip.

“Cum for me Logan!” You encouraged him, your pussy was throbbing with need. Something animalistic was unlocking inside of you and you just had to feel his release inside of your cunt.

After all, you did say you wanted to feel all of him.

And that included his hot, delicious seed.

“Let me—” Logan started to pull you off of him before you grabbed his hands and ground down onto him.

“N-no!” You panted out, still bouncing on him hard. “Cum inside.”

Logan’s eyes widened. With a roar, he sat up and locked his arms around you, his hips jutting up into you once, twice, three times.

And you felt his cock release inside of you at last.

“Oh my god!” You bit into his shoulder, seeing fireworks again, not just for Logan, but for both of you. The room was heavy with the smell of sex and lust and sharp bursts of light that danced across your vision. You could vaguely feel yourself falling back down onto the bed with him, your cheek pressed into his hairy chest.

Your mind was somewhere in space, simply overwhelmed with sensation. This man, this mutant, this Wolverine, gave you the most explosive orgasms every time he fucked you.

Then, as if the sky had cleared after a storm, you saw the fireworks fizzle out. And creeping in from the corner of your eye, you saw it again. That pesky pink fog and the smell of roses.

Love.

…

“Goddamit Logan” you muttered out, lifting your head up to look at the man before you, and your heart immediately softened. His eyes were closed, chest falling and rising rapidly as he recovered. Seeing Logan in that post-sex glow always felt special to you.

He was beautiful.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Logan’s eyes shot open on high alert and he stiffened underneath you, picking up the annoyance in your tone.

You blew out a breath and pushed yourself up on his chest, staring at him before deciding what to say.

What to do.

What to feel.

Logan’s eyes darted across your face, searching for an answer as you battled internally. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks and your heart started to beat in double time.

Fuck it if he was falling for you.

You were addicted to this man.

You were not about to let him go.

“I can feel you, Logan.” You confessed, “I felt it last night, and just when you woke up, and right now.”

“What is it?” Confusion, and a hint of trepidation flashed across his face.

“Love.”

Logan’s brows shot up and he stared into your soul with wide, chocolate-brown eyes. But you stayed silent, waiting for him to deny it, confirm it, something.

With a rustle of sheets, Logan carefully sat up, and you with him. Then, he deliberately placed two warm, calloused palms on both sides of your hot cheeks.

And he kissed you gently.

So fucking gently.

Somehow, that simple kiss felt way more intimate than any of the sex the two of you had ever done.

“Would it be so bad if I loved you?” Logan asked in a low murmur against your lips.

In that instant, your mind recalled everything you loved about Logan.

His gentleness with the students, especially the ones that had powers that were more dangerous or harder to hide. He understood what it felt like to be an outsider. To be feared when you just wanted to belong.

His “I don’t give a fuck” energy when he did, in fact, give a lot of fucks about those he cared about. It showed up in the way he asked about how your week was, and patiently listened to all your complaints before taking you to bed. The way he noticed when you were stressed, or tired, or just needed the comfort of not being alone. The way he put your emotions first before his own.

His ridiculous reputation as the resident flirt, when he was actually so loyal to you. He might have made moves on Jean or Storm or every eligible and un-eligible lady at the school, but you were the only one he called “sweetheart.” You were the only one who saw what Logan looked like when he was afraid, when he was vulnerable. When he was in love.

And of course, his deep respect for Professor X, who he was always just a little bit more well-mannered for. He had changed so much since coming to the school. You could see it In the way he fought on X-missions even though he was so used to fighting for himself, by himself. Now, he was a soldier. A protector.

“No,” you slowly replied. You paused, and covered his hands with your own. ”It would be wonderful.”

Your ears were blessed with the most unbridled, joyful laugh from Logan as he smothered you with his 200 pound body and rained a cascade of kisses all over your skin.

Every press of his lips against your own felt like an I love you over and over again.

“Logan!” You couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Stop!”

“I can’t,” Logan lifted your leg up to his shoulder and drove into your pussy. You were so overwhelmed with his emotion that you hadn’t even seen his cock engorge itself again.

“L-Logan!” You cried out his name again, this time in pleasure.

“I can’t help myself, sweetheart.” Logan kissed you soundly. “Not when I love you this much.”

You held his face, caressing his rough beard and staring into his eyes, shiny with emotion that mirrored your own.

“I love you, too.”

The rest of the morning, laughter and kisses and smiles flooded the room, basking the two of you in the soft, pink glow of the best emotion there is.

Love.

#logan #logan howlett #Logan smut #Logan fic #marvel #logan howlett smut #Logan X reader #Logan howlett fic #Logan howlett X reader #the wolverine #wolverine #the wolverine smut #the wolverine fic #logan x you #logan howlett fanfiction

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thefudge · 1 year ago

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Advice for writing smut???

gonna do bullet-points of things i tend to live by when it comes to smut (this is just my opinion):

don't switch styles: the way you write the smut has to be consistent with the way you write the rest of the story, so if your story is more comedic or romcom-y in nature, the way you write the smut should have those stylings. i personally find it very jarring when authors decide to break the format for the smut, almost like the story has to stop for the sex intermission; if you're writing a horror story, the smut must be informed and influenced by that genre, and if you are breaking genre for the smut portion, tell us why you're suddenly switching gears (it has to be an aesthetic choice you're making on purpose). likewise, if your style in that story is more lyrical, the smut has to be somewhat lyrical too, or if your story is more cormac mccarthy-esque-cut-and-dry, the smut can't suddenly involve an effluvia of purple, sappy prose. integrating the smut in the story and treating it like any other part of the story is key to me. too often i've seen ppl switch to this anonymous pornified style when they get to the smut

which brings me to specificity. i'll talk about het sex, since that's what i tend to write most: not all men are going to be fingering or eating pussy the same way, not all dicks are big and they shouldn't be, not all women immediately get excited by fingering, not everyone moans the same way or makes the same sounds. you're writing about particular characters so it has to be particular to them. i know this is very old advice, but i think it bears repeating

there isn't an exact formula or sequence you have to follow, there aren't precise steps, you don't have to go "well, first he has to kiss down her neck, then reach the boob area, then play with the nipples, then put the nipple in his mouth, then slowly go down on her, then prepare her for entering her etc. etc. etc." this can get boring and repetitive and you start thinking of your characters as these mechanical dolls who have to fuck for your audience. and that can be a vibe too, if you do it on purpose. but sometimes you can get stuck in a porn routine (and ofc, having only the guy show initiative can also get boring)

in order to break that, insert some character moments. what are the characters thinking during this? sometimes they might be thinking of something completely unrelated on the surface, but which has a thematic relevance that can make the scene hotter. likewise, maybe they're doing smth that seems unsexy on the surface, but which, within the context of the story might be really hot. sex doesn't just involve, well, sex, but so much weirdness and humanity and creativity. two bodies (usually) are trying to do this really awkward thing together and they might have a lot of baggage and history to inform it. there's a lot you can do with that.

don't make it glossy and clean, where everyone smells of strawberry shampoo and there is never anything out of sync. the most boring smut tends to be the kind where no one makes any mistakes and everything is super efficient. i imagine it feels like using an industrial pump to milk various farm animals.

and you know what? you can make that hot too. you CAN write a kind of robotic efficient smut and make it really interesting based on the context. let's say you're writing a 1984 AU fic where ppl are forced into intimacy only to procreate and their sex drive is diminished. you can play with that premise and lean into the dehumanizing industrialization of sex, but you have to mean it, aka your narratorial voice must be conscious of these factors.

if you're writing dubcon, make the dubious part present, make sure you draw out the ambivalence and ambiguity. if you're writing noncon, the character whose consent is being violated has to be transformed by this in some way. it can be forced pleasure, for instance, but not only. it has to be a journey for them too, some kind of spiritual pit, or a form of access to terrible knowledge. i know this is a personal thing, but noncon doesn't work for me if the character being noncon'd is just sort of *there*, suffering passively. i think that sort of dead passivity can be done very well too, but the narratorial voice has to persuade me.

that being said, don't be afraid of fear in consensual sex. terror and vulnerability are a part of consensual sex too, imo, and again, depending on the story and the characters, there's a lot you can explore there

i personally find it really hot when the narratorial voice starts discussing some of the ideas that the story wants to convey during the smut. so like, you can characterize person A and outline their worldview and their plans while they're ramming person B, and the thinking & fucking are thus entwined. idk, i dig that

speaking of which, smut can convey world-building details and social/philosophical ideas, not just emotions and character beats

not all smut has to end with mutual orgasm or even one-sided orgasm, it depends what you want to do or where you want to go. again, you don't have to follow a sequence. plus, it's fun (and hot) to write about frustration and failure too.

if you want to mix up the descriptions, resort to the story & characters. you'll find it's easier to describe someone fondling a boob in a new or at least interesting way if you're thinking about that particular character in that particular story, and not just Man X from planet porn (sorry to be snarky, but mainstream erotica is soooo guilty of this)

screaming & really intense reactions are cool but they have to match the characters and the situations

sometimes, it's hotter if an effect is mild or negated, if the usual outcome doesn't happen; mix up the order of events, toy with the usual reactions. it's not about being original, it's about finding out what works for your characters. writing about sex is, in a way, a performance of it, an attempt to go through the sexual motions, to find out what works and doesn't, to engage with the erotics of text (roland barthes entered the chat)

if you are bored by your own smut, that's a problem. i know we all talk about how hard we find writing smut, and IT IS hard, and sometimes it's not enjoyable, because writing itself is often not enjoyable, but even when it's painful and annoying, it gives you that little intellectual kick like "huh, i'm creating this and making these people do this, and ohh look, i can maybe put this unnamable thing into words". but if you become bored, that's a sign you have to look at the language & characters and figure out what's not working for you

last thing i'll underline: pay attention to your narratorial voice. in this ordeal, you are the seducer. not the characters. you have to seduce us with words and context. your voice matters the most. you can persuade us of anything. but you have to be confident in your weirdness and particularity. this is your bedroom (so to speak), so invite us in.

#writing #smut tips #writing advice #smut #my thoughts #replies

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