#logan howlett x reader

[lostinlovingrevery]

After ages of being alone, Logan falls in love with you and the first time he shows a truly vulnerable side of him it's when feels the most gentlest touch from you- maybe your hand cradling his face, your thumb gently stroking along his cheekbone, maybe you're telling him how proud of you are of him. He can't help it, the feeling wells up- a feeling that he has pushed down for ages because there was never a right time, he never saw a point to letting it out, never felt safe or trusted someone enough with that side of him. This time he lets it out with you. His lip quivers and tears well up and he breaks down. You wipe away a single tear that rolls down his cheek but soon there's so many that you just hold him close while he cries. Your shirt is soaked with his tears and the weight of his shame and guilt. You just soothe him, a few comforting words here there encouraging him to let it all out, that you're there for him, while you stroke your hand through his hair. When he finally calms down, he looks up at you expecting to find disgust, judgement, anger- anything than what you're actually looking at him with. Kindness, love, acceptance- maybe you cried a little bit too. You end the night with some comfort food and snuggles and Logan sleeps soundly in your arms for the first time in decades.

[savedenji]

as a society, we need more long fiction where the reader haunts the narrative. yes, I want to be that dead wife at the beginning of each movie. if I disappear or die tragically, i want to haunt the character every moment. we don't need a few paragraphs about how much the character hurts over our death, we want at least 10k where it is established at the beginning of the story that reader is dead, we want to see flashbacks to the past when we were happy. the longer the story goes on, the darker they become, all the way to the present. I never want to leave the character alone.

If you know of any fic like this or are writing one, please recommend it! 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[unnamedrose]

𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐃

GirlDad!Logan who doesn’t care if it’s a boy or a girl—but the moment the nurse says “It’s a girl,” something breaks open in his chest. He holds her for the first time with the same hands that have torn through wars, and suddenly he’s never been more gentle in his life.

GirlDad!Logan who never really cared about paint colors or crib styles, suddenly finds himself crouched in a baby store aisle arguing with a clerk about which shade of pink is softer on the eyes.

GirlDad!Logan who’s up at 3am rocking her against his chest, muttering stories in that rough voice she finds comforting. Doesn’t matter that she’s screaming. Doesn’t matter that he hasn’t slept. She needs him, and he’s there. Always.

GirlDad!Logan who keeps a baby monitor clipped to his belt like it’s part of his combat gear. You tease him for it. He just says, “I’m not missin’ a damn thing.”

GirlDad!Logan who gets oddly competitive at school field days, threatens a seven-year-old for cheating at sack races, then carries your daughter on his shoulders like she just won an Olympic medal.

GirlDad!Logan who still looks at you like he can’t quite believe you stayed. Who watches the two of you—his kid curled up beside you, same look in her eyes, and lets himself think, maybe this was the point all along. He didn’t expect to make it this far, didn’t plan on fatherhood. But now that he’s here, he’s not going anywhere.

If it ever came down to it, protecting you and her wouldn’t even be a question. It’d just be instinct.

[holylulusworld]

An absent mate

Summary: Your mate cares more about a taken omega.

Pairing: Wolverine x Omega!Reader

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, abandonment, emotional cheating, heavy angst, pregnancy, loneliness, language, shitty friends, shitty alpha, Jean being the worst ever, Jean hate (sorry)

Square filled for the Wolverine bingo @buck-star created for me: Square 23: a/b/o

In the beginning, you believed everything would turn out for the better. Everyone encouraged you to pursue the alpha you fell in love with. You believed their words, their lies, so easily.

Logan wasn’t happy with all the attention you gave him at first. But the more you threw yourself at him, the more he got fond of you. Or so it seemed.

You spent many nights tangled in each other, touching every inch of your bodies, while you got more and more lost in Logan.

His mark soon was on your neck, indicating that he finally settled for an omega and forgot about the one he couldn’t have.

You soon would find out that the passion he showed in the bedroom did not dull the ache whenever he ignored your needs.

Hugs, a no-go. Kissing, only when it was to start something else. Being around you for longer than needed was out of the question.

Day by day, you realized that you got trapped in a loveless bond by no other but your chosen family. The people you trusted the most.

“Logan, where are you going again?” You almost pleaded while grabbing his arm. “I told you I need you today.”

“I told you that Jean needs me. Scott is on a mission, and she’s all alone,” Logan bites back, wincing as you flinch at his harsh tone. “Give me an hour or two, and we can do whatever you want to do.” He tries to charm his way back into your good graces, but you only scoff.

“What if I ever get pregnant? Will you be there for me, too, or just ignore me?” Your questions make Logan stop in his tracks. He considers your words before walking toward the door.

“We shouldn’t have a baby.” His words cut deeper than any knife. “I’m too old to have children.”

“You will outlive all of us. Me…anyone,” you scoff. “You’re not too old. You simply don’t want to have children with me.”

“No…I…” Logan shakes his head. “I’d outlive our child, too, Y/N. I don’t want to see them die like everyone else.”

“You could play with your grandchildren, and their children,” you sniffle. “Anyone would kill for that chance, but you…” You protectively wrap your arms around yourself. “If Jean’s child were yours, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

“That’s not…true.” He tries to argue, but you are too wound tight to give in today. In the past, you endured the pain in silence.

“Forget it,” you sniffle and already turn back around. “I can handle my problems on my own. I’m not a weakling like Jean.” You grab your jacket and bag and storm out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Jean stands in front of your room, running her hand over her visible bump. She smirks, knowing you got into a fight with your mate because of her.

“Get fucked.” You curse and storm past her. In your condition, you shouldn’t stress yourself or always get into fights with your mate. It’s no use. He will not turn toward you, and Jean won’t stop playing the victim.

“I’m so done,” you think in your mind, catching Professor Xavier’s attention. Usually, you guard your mind like a dragon guarding a captured princess. Today, your heart and soul a screaming because you cannot endure more heartbreak. “That’s enough heartbreak for a lifetime.”

After returning from your doctor's appointment, you decided to talk to your fellow X-Men.

You don’t understand why Logan claimed you if his heart was still hung up on Jean.

They all assured you that Logan feels the same, but now you feel like they lied to you.

If you are right, the betrayal cuts even deeper.

Walking along the hallways, you change your mind. If you ask them directly, they’d only lie to you to shelter your feelings.

It’s against the rules, but to get the truth, you are willing to break all the rules.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath before using your powers. You focus on everyone telling you to make a move on Logan.

Not only did Logan and Jean underestimate you, but your fellow X-Men did too.

In full control of your powers, you can read their minds all at once.

Your eyes fill with tears, realizing, they knew Logan would never reciprocate your feelings all along. None of them was truly on your side.

“All of you.” You accuse, pointing at Professor Xavier in particular. “Every single one of you told me to give Logan a chance. You told me he’s bad at admitting feelings.”

“We only asked you to give him a chance to make him happy,” Storm tries to save the situation and calm you. No such luck.

You scoff at your stupidity and shake your head. “You didn’t ask me to give him a chance to become his mate, his partner, or the mother of his pups.” You emphasize your last words, running your hand over your swollen bump. “No. You did it, so he got someone to fuck!”

Professor Xavier flinches at your outburst. Not only because your words are true, but also because you screamed in his mind.

“You wanted me to let him fuck me while his whole attention was focused on Jean. A taken woman. A mated omega. Someone else’s wife.” You sniff and look away from them. “You made me believe he’ll reciprocate my feelings one day.”

Professor Xavier wants to say something, but you raise your hand to stop him. “Save it, professor. He doesn’t care for me. Logan is all over Jean all the time because she won’t leave a taken man alone.” You snarl the last line. “She’s nothing but a homewrecker, and all of you decided to look the other way. I’m done.”

Logan finally joins the others, staring at you as if you lost your mind. He heard every word thanks to his higher senses and advanced hearing.

“If you are unhappy, go.” He growls and points at you. “But before, give me my favorite shirt back.”

You can’t believe his cruelty, but you are not surprised either.

“Fine, have it.” You drop your bag and jacket to take off his shirt, throwing it at Logan. Everyone gasps, even your mate, looking at the prominent bump you hid so well over the last few months. You’re five months pregnant and are already showing a big belly.

Logan’s shoulders slump, and he gasps loudly. “You’re pregnant too?” He asks, as if you tried to hide your pregnancy from him.

“Yeah, that,” you run your hand over your bump, “isn’t your problem, right? That’s what you told me last week when I, once again, tried to tell you about my pregnancy. But you were busy rubbing Jean’s back because she was nauseous.”

You laugh loudly at the absurdity. “She’s pregnant with another man, and you do anything to make her feel better while your mate suffers alone, hoping her mate will at least help her with her nest. I was only ever an afterthought to you, nothing else.”

“How did you not know she’s pregnant?” Ororo’s eyes clouded watching you grab your jacket to cover yourself. “Logan? How did you not know?”

“I…” Logan averts his gaze and shakes his head. There’s no excuse for not knowing about his mate’s pregnancy. For months, he took care of another omega.

You look Jean straight in the eyes and say, “Don’t worry Jean, I give my mate free. You should ask Scott to do the same so you and your chosen mate, the one you love, can be together.”

Jean looks anywhere but at you. Her hands tremble when she places them on her belly. Her pup kicks, and she feels bad for you for a moment. She had the attention of two alphas, while you had to do everything on your own.

Your features darken, and you smirk cruelly as she looks flustered.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot you only wanted Logan to give you his full attention out of jealousy. You never wanted him, but seeing him become my mate didn’t sit right with you. Correct me when I’m wrong.”

Jean doesn’t answer. Her silence speaks volumes, though.

In the beginning, she kept her distance and watched you get closer and closer to Logan from afar. Until one day, she decided not to let Logan stop yearning for her. It didn’t matter that you wore his mark, and that he called you his omega at that time.

“I still don’t understand how Logan didn’t know about Y/N’s pregnancy.” Ororo looks at Logan. “Logan?”

“Because he gives a shit about me. I was only good for getting off. I have no worth to him. Not when Jean is all over him most of the day and night. I always wondered if Scott loves being a cuck.”

Gambit snorts at your comment. He shakes his head and shoves people out of his way, holding out his hand. “Do you want me to drive you somewhere?"

“No,” you slap his offered hand away. “I don’t want anything from you or the likes of you.” You walk past him, not sparing Logan a glance as you walk toward the front door. “I hope you all go to hell.”

With that, you slam the door shut behind you, leaving them alone with their regret.

[itsmemuffy]

Logan's self-described "worst trait" is his tendency to think out loud. Without realizing, he mutters something under his breath. In most environments, he is self-aware enough to consciously stop himself from doing just that.

Sometimes, however, he gets a bit too... distracted. Too distracted to police himself. Especially when you're around. It is usually small statements– an unrefined thought just passing through.

"Your lipstick is smudged..."

You stop mid-sentence, having been gabbing his ear off while he stares at your lips. "What was that?"

"Nothing, it's just–" Logan cuts himself off, kicking himself for being so obvious. The reckless side of him has a thought and before he can think it through, he acts.

His own thumb is brought to his lips, dipping behind them to wet it on his tongue. You stand still, not fully realizing what's happening. He runs the rough pad of his digit along the outline of your cupid's bow, wiping away the misplaced pigment.

You don't acknowledge this action and jump right back into your story, but you pray his senses don't pick up on your racing heart or the heat radiating off of your face.

Moments like these happen more and more often. It's the affect you have on him, allowing Logan to let his guard down enough to let his innermost feeling slip. Sometimes you catch it, sometimes it comes out as a low mumbling.

"Smell good... Is that lotion..?"

"Your skirt is so short today..."

"Skin looks too soft..."

"Need to touch..."

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Part 2 for this

Logan kept it up for months. He knew you'd get sick of him eventually, knew you'd want more. He was actually, honestly surprised at how long you lasted.

One night, as he came to you, knocking on your bedroom door and not letting you speak as his mouth overtook yours, you pulled away, furrowing your eyebrows and shaking your head.

“No? No what?” he asks, frowning.

“I don’t want this ‘nymore,” you say quietly, pretty eyes glistening with tears. “I can’t keep loving you, Lo, you only hurt me.”

His heart sinks. He has to admit, part of him hoped you’d never leave. “What’re you sayin’? You done with me just ‘cause I didn’t say I loved you?”

You sniffle, hugging yourself, and Logan realizes that’s exactly what happened.

He scoffs softly, his ego bruised, that hurt turning to anger. “You agreed to only physical,” he reminds you, as if that would convince you to take him back. “You knew what you were getting into, bub.”

You just shake your head again. “I can’t keep doing this, it hurts too much.”

He clenches his jaw. He hates himself for hurting you, for using you, for making you fall in love with him only to break your heart. He wants to yell, punch the walls, grab you by your shoulders and shake you until you see reason. He wants to throw you onto the bed, fuck you just how he knows you like so you realize how much you need him.

Instead, he takes a deep breath. “’kay,” he says quietly, and then he’s walking out of your room.

The days that follow without you convince Logan a hell exists. He’s angry—angrier—all the time. His head hurts. His nerves on edge. If someone so much as glances at him, he wants to murder them. The entirety of the X mansion avoids him; the adults get out of his way without a word, the kids run off with wide eyes and racing hearts. He’s a force of nature this angry, something dark that destroys everything it touches, hurts and breaks all.

Including you.

No amount of alcohol helps. No amount of random women at bars helps. No amount of cigarettes helps. He feels like he’s withering from the inside and nothing can stop it.

He finds himself at your bedroom door, late one night, after hours of standing in front of his mirror, just him and his thoughts. He’s come to terms with it, and he hopes you will too.

He doesn’t knock, just barges in. He finds you sitting on your bed in your pajamas, book in hand, hair down. You look up, frowning at him. “I told you—”

“I know what you said, bub. I heard you fine,” he grumbles, shutting the door after himself. “I heard you fine.”

You get off the bed, cross your arms. “Then why are you here?” You’re pouting, putting on this tough-girl façade, but he can hear your heart racing and your breathing grow quicker. You’re nervous, uneasy. He can smell it.

“Because I’m sorry,” he says quietly, sitting on the edge of your bed. “I’m a fuckin’ idiot.” His hand traces the pattern on your duvet. “I had you and I pushed you away because I thought I could keep my heart shut out.”

He glances up at you. Your eyes study him, deciding whether or not to believe him. You wouldn’t put it past him to lie to you only to fuck you again.

“Baby, I’m a fuckin’ moron. I had it all with you. A gorgeous, sweet, kind girl, and I lost it all ‘cause I was too proud to admit I’m in love too.”

He hears your breathing hitch, your eyes widen. “You’re lying,” you say, but your voice is quiet, lacks the snark it should carry.

He shakes his head. “I’m a dick, but I ain’t lyin’ bout this, bub. I ain’t. I love you too, I was just too stupid to see it before.”

He sees in your eyes the moment your walls crumble, and you’re back in his arms. “You love me?” you whisper, allowing him to tug you closer.

“I love you,” he confirms, pulling you to the bed, lying you down gently.

This time, it’s different. There’s no roughness to his movements, only a tender care that makes your body feel alight with warmth and careful desire.

He eats you out like he’s worshipping you, like he needs you to live. And when he fucks you, he does it slow.

Every roll of his hips has you seeing stars, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly rocks in and out of you. His forehead presses against yours, breaths mixing. He kisses your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, feeling like his body will melt against yours, like his soul and yours are intertwining.

And then, when he comes in you, he keeps his cock in you, hoping to keep his cum in you, hoping you’ll give him a family, hoping you’ll let him stay because he doesn’t deserve to love you, but he’ll damn well try.

---

Taglist

@tinawantstobeadoll @whyamistillontumbler @strawberrylore @ronin-111 @paarthurnax59 @mrsfrogandtoad @newwavesylviaplath

---

Logan masterlist

[mikyapixie]

𝟐𝟓 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐠𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞!!!

And X-men Premiered In Theaters!

[sweetverine]

MR. HOWLETT | professor!logan

warnings: MDNI (+18), smut, porn with a bit of plot, student-professor relationship dynamics, power relationship, age gap, afab reader, pet names, cockwarming, no use of protection, pulling out, dirty talk, praise too)?

a/n : it's been a long time, i know, prof!lo has just been on my mind 24/7 i needed to do something about it, idk what to think about this, it's purely filth so........ also this pic of hugh????🫠 yall can imagine the logan you want for this one 𖹭 hope you enjoy it

When you entered university, the subjects were somewhat difficult, but you managed them. The first semester was fine, without too many problems, and even good grades. You were good at what you did, earning the occasional compliment from professors for your good performance.

But, when your parents were unable to pay your college tuition, things got complicated, forcing you to get a job if you wanted to keep studying. You had to divide your time, one day working, another studying, other days half work and half study.

This routine began to affect you, the subjects became somewhat difficult each time, meaning that you had to pay more attention, more time that you didn't have. Your concentration was zero, every time you tried to sit down to study you found yourself unable to do so.

and worse? You had started failing in a particular class, mostly the most unbearable and hated one; History. It was a heavy class, boring. You yawned every two minutes at the matters discussed in the two weekly hours.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ *⁠.⁠✧∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

At this particular hour You held his cheek against your elbow, resting on the table, looking in a boring way at the professor, you sigh. Your gaze slid towards his arms while you didn't listen to his senseless words, Mr. Howlett was never an ugly guy. In fact, he's Quite the opposite; Handsome, Tall, smart, nice hair, flattering glasses and an athlete's body. Every girl's dream.

That white shirt folded up to his forearms really pleased your sight. You could feel the heat rising from your neck to his ears as your mind plotted all the things professor logan could do with those arms, or the things he could do with his big hands, even the things that mouth — besides not stopping talking about history — gives fantastic kisses, capable of making some legs tremble.

Your eyes went further down, meeting with his jeans and his somewhat extravagant leather belt. You could notice how big his legs were, even though he was already big, those jeans just flattered him, you also found a normal bulge that any man has. And there you question about it, How big is it? I'm sure it's bigger when it gets hard, is it thick? Oh god. Why are you thinking about this?

you licked your lips, closing your eyes before going back to his boring lecture. He's too handsome to be talking about boring matters, even though it makes him hotter. This was the real reason for your bad grades, being distracted on the clouds thinking about Mr. howlett. You could feel something heavy in you, which led you to look at him, meeting his gaze, speaking while he didn't take his eyes off yours. Your cheeks burn and you decide to break the totally awkward exchange.

“read the entire unit for next class.” He said, ending the class. As soon as the hour was up, you rushed to try to escape, quickly putting away your notebook, your pencil case and water too, you put on your backpack, feeling a little relieved to finally be free, everyone was doing the same thing as you, others already leaving.

You put on your backpack, Now calm down, you had to worry about other things now, but surviving this class was the goal of your day. You were getting closer and closer to the desired classroom door. There weren't many people, just a few girls along with boys leaving, including the professor who hadn't left yet, who was sitting at his desk, reading some papers that were displaced on his desk.

you reached for the door, almost feeling free but a deep, masculine voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, Miss, I have to talk to you about some things. don't leave yet.” Logan said, looking towards your back.

‘Fuck’ You whispered, slowly turning around and walking towards his desk, watching the other students leave, achieving your desired freedom.

“I wanted to know if you are aware of your grades.” He says, looking at you with those hazel green eyes, your pulse drummed on your chest at the mention of your grades.

“u-uh.. yeah, I know I'm not doing too well in this subject..” You looked away, avoiding his gaze, respectfully.

“That is true, You also have work to hand in, this is the second one you haven't given to me.” His voice makes you shiver, and nervousness begins to take hold of you. “Is there any reason for that?”

The awkwardness in the room was more than palpable, You swallow dryly.

“I started working full time, paying for college is becoming a little difficult for me.” you say, being honest with him and your situation.

He nodded slowly, hearing you sincerely. You were afraid of what he was going to say next, the silence made you more anxious.

“Your situation is not really an excuse,” He says, leaning back, his voice is firm but not cruel

“but… I can't not give you a chance when life kicks you in the ass.” He says, his face serious, grabbing a pen.

“I'll make time, come to see me tomorrow.” He writes something on a piece of paper on his desk.

“I'll tutor you.”

Your cheeks turned red, “R-really?..” That was too fast, Since when is he so considerate?

“Don't make me repeat myself, Miss.”

His voice echoed in your ears, almost leaving you dumbfounded. you hum softly.

“Goodbye, Mr Howlett, thank you.” you mutter, Giving him a little smile before starting to walk away from the classroom, sighing when you finally step out of it.

These are going to be long private classes.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ*⁠.∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

After 4 tutoring classes, your grades got slightly better. Mr Howlett was more than a good teacher, you handed in the work you were missing and he was patient enough for you, explaining everything slowly and easier.

Now you're 10 minutes late to his tutoring class. With nervousness you knock the door twice, You don't think he'll have mercy on you this time. Your sweaty hands grabbed the knob and entered the office. The only light was a lamp that he kept on his desk, illuminating the desk with a warm tone.

“You're late.” Logan was eyeing some history book, with the glasses fitted on the bridge of his nose and shirt sleeves rolled up. The room seems to get smaller as you walk towards the chair, sitting in front of him.

“I'm sorry.. I came straight from work.” You say, opening your backpack, Swallowing saliva. The cold wood chilled your thighs, making you shiver a little.

“Open to page 203.” His voice deep, His hands Reached slowly to close the book he was reading, with his attention fully on you now, he places it beneath a little drawer on the desk.

His orders were simple and concise, in a tone that brooks no resistance.

You tried to concentrate, you really tried, but his fingers brushed against the paper, the watch on his wrist ticking away at the minutes, like a countdown. Your body was tense without any logical reason.

Well, deep in you, you knew why, and who was making you this way.

“What does Marx mean by class struggle?” He asks, looking at the text.

You stayed silent, you didn't even read the first paragraph.

“Well?” His voice raised a little, almost demanding. “You didn't read it, did you?” His brow furrowed.

“I–I'm trying. I swear.. I just…”

The silence felt like a slap in the face, and for a moment the weight of the room was heavier. Logan slammed the book down on the desk, making you jump slightly. His eyes stare into yours.

“you said you wanted my help, you wanted to pass.” His hands kept on the book.

“I do.. I really do.” You start, trying to convince him, you didn't want to fail his subject.

“Then why don't you commit to this?”

“I have too many things in my mind, work.. other subjects” You explain, sighing, avoiding his eye contact now.

“And isn't history a subject you have to commit to as well?” He kept going, every time more intense.

You are feeling so frustrated now, almost wanting to cry for the raising of his voice, and how angry he seemed to be at you. Logan lays back on his chair, sighing deeply. His hand taking off his glasses and letting them fall on the wooden desk.

After a while he speaks again, rejoining again. “We'll try something new.” Something dirty in his tone that made you tremble slightly.

“Get up.” He says, although he's more calm down, the annoyance doesn't let go of him yet.

And you did.

“desk.”

“What?” your brow furrowed, looking at him.

“Up. On. The. Desk.” His raspy voice quickened your pulse again, and you could see him move his chair aside, making room for you. You obey with a blush on your face. Then he gets closer, His big hands explore, starting to caress your waist.

“Mr. Howlett–” Your voice sounds quite breathy, but not doing anything to pull away. as the touches begin to heat up everything, his fingers unbutton your pants. He didn't say a word until he left you in your underwear.

“you better try.”

You hate that this situation makes you wet.

Without much ceremony, he sat you on his lap, it was a situation worse than embarrassing, and it is worse that you let him do it. His warm hand never left your waist, keeping you in place. You listen to his belt clicking behind you, it is going to happen.

Silently he accommodates you slowly. His cock, as far as you could see, was big and thick, almost like in your imagination.

“Sit, take it all the way down.” He whispered in your ear.

You swallow. Your legs were shaking as you settled on top of him, your knees on the sides of the chair, next to his thighs. You felt his tip gently brush against you, making you shudder.

“L-logan..” You bite your lower lip, his hands wrapped around your waist, caressing the skin softly.

“Shh.. not a word. Sit.” He guides you again, his tone more gentle.

You slowly sat up, feeling him fill you inch by inch. It was difficult not to moan when he was all the way in. you could feel how thick he was, opening you up mercilessly. you were already getting agitated and unconsciously, your hips moved by reflex but his hand kept you still.

“No.” His voice firm as his hand.

“You're going to stay still.”

“But, Logan–”

“No, you listen to me.” He says, squeezing your hip roughly. “You're going to stay here, quiet, paying attention and reading out loud.”

He leaned forward onto the desk, his chest pressed against your back. His hands left your hips, grabbing the book he had left on the table. not taking you off him, as if he weren't hard inside you. As if you weren't dripping wet, pulsing around him.

“start with paragraph two.”

You bit your lip, your voice only managed to come out shaky. “S–social classes… for m-marxism are defined by the relations o-of…production, that is—”

“Slower.” He whispered in your ear.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to concentrate with all your might. But he was still there, inside, hard and heavy. every inch of him makes it difficult to think straight.

“Do you want to pass this class, Miss?” His gruff voice almost made you melt around him.

“I do.” You mutter.

“Then show me.”

You tried to move your hips again, only to be stopped by him again. “Did I say you could move?”

“N-no..” You whisper, already feeling frustrated.

“Exactly.” He kept you steady on his cock, not letting you move, not even squirm on him.

So you keep going, Reading slowly and out loud, with a broken voice, your nipples aching beneath your shirt and his cock throbbing inside of you. It takes you a few minutes more than normal to finish one. single. paragraph. it's pure torture .

“It wasn't that hard, wasn't it?” He whispers. “See? you just needed a little motivation.”

His hand goes a little lower, finding your puffy clit His thick fingers starting to rub it gently, You tremble, letting out a breathy moan. “L-logan..” Your eyes go shut, enjoying the stimulation he was giving you, your hips move towards his hand, and it pulls away quickly just as it began.

“concentrate.” He says as you whine.

You sigh, hating his teasing and how wet it makes you when he toys with you. His hands go to your hips, caressing you softly, almost soothingly for being so cruel with you. you start a new paragraph, only to be cut off a few lines later by him.

“Then what will be the goal of the revolution?” He whispered, his nose buried on your neck.

“T–the revolution will aim to achieve a perfect society where there is neither ... .exploiters nor exploited…” You answered correctly, making him smirk.

“That's my good girl. that's what you needed, hmm?” He praised you, feeling you clench around him when he said a pet name to your ear.

“Just one more paragraph, angel.” He whispered, his hands Going up to your boobs, squeezing them gently underneath your shirt. You started reading it, still somewhat stumbling and shaky, but faster than before.

Reading the last sentence, you simply relax against him, biting your lower lip. “G-god..”

“You're tired already?” He whispered. “Just a short page, I still have many more things to explain to you..” you whine in response, completely refused to read more with this torture. “I didn't say we're finished.”

“No please.. i-i can't do this anymore” You moan breathly.

“you're such a needy thing.” He groaned, feeling how you squeeze him again. “cant even fucking read something and staying obedient.” His hand finds your clit again, toying with it gently, Your hips move, rubbing yourself against his calloused fingers.

You whimper, bouncing softly on his thick cock, His groans just makes you wetter, the tip brushes that sweet spot that makes you fold every time. But as quickly as it started, you started to get tired within minutes.

“Now what, bunny? Have you sung yet?” He huffs.

With a little force, he gets up from the chair, without leaving you yet, pressing you down onto the cold desk. You moaned, arching your back.

“You're going to take it now, I've been wanting this since I saw you looking at me with those eyes in class, don't think I didn't notice.” He mutters as he slowly starts to move, slowly getting in and out, The sound of skins clashing, your low moans and Logan's grunts provided the soundtrack for the moment.

“Are you like this with all the teachers? huh?”

“Answer when I talk to you.” He says, Expecting an answer, You were too caught up in the moment, too dumb to think straight.

“No! fuck.. I-i'm sorry..” You whisper, closing your eyes.

Your knuckles turned white as you held on to the desk, your cheek pressed against the wood. Logan's pace was brutal now, dragging moans from your lips with each thrust, his hips slamming into you with growing urgency.

“Dirty girl, feel what you do to me.”

Your walls clench around him as he talks to you, you only nodding, your legs tremble, His hand reaches around to rub your clit again, this time without mercy. Fast. Intentional.

"Logan..please! 'm close, I need—”

"Then come," he growled, slamming into you. "Show me how much you've learned, angel. fuck come on”

That was all it took. Your body trembled with the intensity of your climax, clenching around him so tight he groaned your name, fucking you through it.

“Fuck–baby…” He groaned, almost losing it as it came out of you, without wasting time it began to stroke himself. hot, white spurts of cum spilled over on your back. warm and messy as he groaned deep and low, collapsing forward, panting against your shoulder.

A beat of silence. Just you and him, both tired.

“Read everything for the next lesson.” He said breathlessly.

[loganficsonly]

an independent woman ☘ 9 (end)

˚₊‧⁺˖✮ ch 9: epilogue ✮ ˖⁺‧₊˚

masterlist

worst!logan x fem!reader, 2.1k

SUMMARY: As Logan learns to live instead of survive, he finds himself in the extremely dangerous position of sharing an apartment with you—Wade's friend. Extremely dangerous because Lord knows he can't keep his feelings a secret forever... not when your room is five steps away from his.

SERIES WARNINGS/TAGS: english is not my native language, no use of y/n, reader is a working adult (mid-late 20s) with a slightly written out personality, friends to roommates to lovers, slow burn, secret crushes, mentions of alcoholism and AA

CHAPTER WARNINGS/TAGS: logan is a lover boy, nudity and implied sex

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i'm a sap so i've started reflecting on this series and the experience of writing it lol maybe i'll post that sometime. thank you SO MUCH to everyone that's supported this fic i love you <3

also i think it's freaky how my other fic the cure really fits into this series, i'm treating it as a side story lol

“Looks like things are going well,” Laura hums. 

Logan looks over at her as he sips on a canned cola.

The afternoon sun rays hit the bench they’re sitting on, a little bit too warm, almost blinding. Cicadas buzz in the background, and the faint smell of elm permeates in the air. They can hear a bunch of kids somewhere, their shrill laughter floating above a game of soccer. Regular consequences of hanging out at Tompkins Square Park in mid-July.

But neither father nor daughter move. Fugitives like them have kept to the edges of the world far too long to take moments like these for granted. Sunshine. Air. 

Peace.

“What do you mean?” 

The younger woman rolls her eyes at him. Universal code for ‘quit the bullshit’.

“Come on. You and her.” 

She tilts her chin over in your direction.

You and Wade are playing catch with Mary Puppins in a field of grass in the distance. From where Logan is, the dog looks like a matted hopping rain cloud. Vanessa hovers nearby, filming the moment on her phone.

It was Wade’s idea to come here. Something about wanting to heal his inner child by having a day out with his family. You quickly got excited at the plan, and Logan liked it when you smiled, so he didn’t say no. 

He finds the sight of you distracting. How you’re dressed casually in a top and a pair of shorts that look like they’re made of a material so soft and worn, cooing over Dogpool as she brings you back the battered tennis ball.

It’s the sun’s fault. The light outlines your skin like a halo. You look like you’re glowing.

“What about it?” he replies, peeling his eyes away from you and back to Laura. His tone isn’t avoidant. If anything, he almost sounds playful. Like a dare. 

Laura lets out a snort. 

“Please, it’s pretty damn obvious. You look a decade younger these days.”

Logan smirks. “Just one?” 

“Cracking jokes like that? Two.” 

She perches her elbows on top of her knees, leaning forward in her seat.

“She’s good for you.”

Logan doesn’t answer, but his mind responds almost instantaneously, projecting images of private moments of you and him in the apartment that is now his sanctuary. Slideshow after slideshow of collected memories.

That time you kiss the inside of his wrist after he fixes a loose valve under the kitchen sink, a soft and wordless ‘thank you’. Your legs draped across his lap, shifting a little as you laugh at something inane on TV. Whispers of his name beneath the covers, skin against skin, your fingers bringing him closer, always on him somewhere like you can’t stand being apart—his hair, his shoulders, his arms…

Like a wishing well in the woods, you gave him something deep and lasting and magical.

Drinking from it has made him even thirstier.   

Laura looks over at him, catching the way his gaze softens. There’s that faraway look, one that tells her he’s not quite sure how he got to be here. He thinks nobody notices.

You think you’re slick, too, but Laura sees how you no longer protest when Logan gets your bag or umbrella when you walk into a room. How you barely put up a fight when Wade banned you from washing dishes at his place. The change is subtle, gradual, but enough to pick up between gatherings.

Like you’re learning the language of being, without explaining why you have the right to. 

As someone who got banished to the Void, of course Laura sees it. 

The silence settles. Logan is the first to speak.

“Yeah. She is.”

Laura blinks, head turning to see him. He’s still looking at you.

“Don’t fuck it up,” she smiles goodnaturedly.

He huffs, hiding his face behind the rim of his drink.

“I won’t.”

You and Wade are fussing over Mary Puppins. He’s patting her butt while you scratch behind her ears, as if the dog ordered a full-service massage.

“Sooo, when were you gonna tell me?”

You resist the knee-jerk impulse to freeze. That sing-song voice means trouble.

“Tell you what?” you feign ignorance.

“That you and Logan are a thing. Even Al can see that—and I don’t need to remind you she’s blind.”

You think you’d be the worst person to ever be put in an interrogation room, because you sigh, not even putting up a fight. Any attempt at deflection would probably be pathetic.

It’s not as if you and Logan are deliberately keeping your relationship a vaulted secret. The two of you just happen to agree to be subtler in group situations to avoid unnecessary attention, and… well, the sort of chaos that Wade might bring when he stumbles upon this kind of knowledge.

But this is Wade you’re talking to. ‘Friend’ seems too small a word to summarize him. You gave him tips on how to get rid of blood from his clothes, sat with him on days that were too sad. He made you open up—one of the first people to do so since you moved to the city.

He also gave you Logan, in a way.

And it’s not like you can lie to him convincingly. Even if you could, you kind of don’t want to, either. 

You shoot Wade a look that gives him enough to latch on.    

“Oh my fucking god, you bitch!” he squeals. “I need you to spill all the tea!”

“What’s there to spill? You figured it out,” you say coolly. Maybe staring at Dogpool’s tongue will help quell the flutter in your stomach.

“You know, last month, he told me he was going to move out,” Wade replies.

Your eyes snap up to his. 

“It was during that mission with the TVA. Went to this different universe—which was fucking sick, by the way, everything was black-and-white—and you wouldn’t believe what we saw.”

“What?”

“You. With a really cute boyfriend that’s not Logie Bear. The way it rattled him, I figured he had feelings for you—I mean, I figured that out a long time ago, but his reaction really was the nail on the coffin.”

You blink. You did not know anything about this. Your hand stills, unconsciously pulling away from Mary Puppins. She immediately finds it a disservice and darts over to where Vanessa’s standing, leaving you and Wade sitting on the grass.

“And?”

“I teased him about it, of course. He insisted he didn’t have feelings for you and was going to move out anyways.”

Your heart jumps.

“Then I punched that lying slut in the face.”

“You what?”

“And now he’s your boyfriend! You’re welcome,” he bats his eyelashes, grinning with glee.

You choke out a laugh of disbelief. “I… did not know this.” 

“Which is why I’m telling you—I take full credit for getting you two dumbasses together.”

“Hey! Who’re you calling a dumbass?”

“‘Of course I like him, Wade, it’s just not like that, you know?’” Wade mocks, purposefully launching a poor imitation of your face. You feel your face burn, embarrassed enough to put a hand over your face when you recognize your own words once upon a lunch. 

“Please don’t.”

“Fine. At least tell me you’ve seen him shirtless.”

You swallow. Then tersely nod once. He lets out an overly dramatic sigh, flopping his arms like a deflating tube man.

“FINALLY. Did it change your life?”

“Yes.”

The two of you share a smile—yours shy, his a little scandalous. There’s silence. You catch his gaze soften.

“You’re good for each other, honeybee. You know that, right?”

Yes. Yes, you do. You feel it in your bones. That kind of certainty isn’t something you feel very often in life. But it’s there, every day you wake up next to him, every night you sleep next to him. How he lifts the constant weight of needing to justify your existence. How he reassures you that you’re free to be without needing to prove why you’re worth it.

He makes you believe in another kind of liberty. A new kind of independence. 

You look over to where he’s sitting with Laura and find that he’s already looking this way. 

“And you’re a great friend, Wade. You know that, right?”

“The best there is, boo.”

You left the park at sunset, parting ways with Laura first. Wade and Vanessa continue to walk with you—it’s a couple more blocks before they need to turn into a different street. 

Logan and Wade are several steps behind you and Vanessa, silently tuning in and out of a conversation about how middle management is just glorified babysitting. The pink sunset blanketing the city gives way to a wistfulness that’s hard to put a finger on, the kind that looks out the window and whispers ‘there goes another day’. 

“Oh.” 

Wade blinks, turning to Logan.

The older man digs his hand into his pocket before tossing something in the air. Wade catches it in both his palms.

“For you,” Logan murmurs.

Lightweight aluminum. Red.

Wade stops in his tracks, fingers tracing the embossed letters on the surface of the chip. The street lights help him read the words. 

To thine own self be true.

1 month.

Eyes meet—Logan’s already looking back at him. The message in that gaze is loud and clear.

Thank you.

“Wade told me something,” you say quietly.

Draped on Logan’s naked chest, you’re just as bare, thumb mindlessly caressing his midriff. He strokes your hair gently as if mirroring your gesture.

Something in your voice says your mutual friend already knows. Not a single adamantium bone in him finds that surprising. In fact, a part of him is glad—he no longer has to hold his hands back whenever they feel like touching your waist.

“Mm?”

“You saw me. In a different timeline.”

He blinks, then nods, surprised at how long ago that night feels. The memory is buried, but if it’s quiet enough, he can still recall everything: the look on your face, the twinkle in your voice as you laugh while walking down that brick pavement, your lover in hand. 

He watches as your eyes continue to stare into his, dreamlike. 

Are you thinking about it? The possibility of happiness with someone else, someone out there in the vast threads of alternate realities who’s more deserving of you?

He’s changed, he realizes, because the thoughts don’t bite him like they used to. Debilitating self-doubt diminished into mere curious musings, thanks to time and your constant streams of affection.   

Then you smile and—oh, that look on your face turns out to be for him. You don’t even ask about it: who you’re with, if you’re happy, questions that come with the multiverse.

You kiss the space right above his heart.

“I’m glad I’m here. With you,” you whisper, all soft and sweet, and his heart cracks all over again. 

You keep getting away with making him ache. He’s not complaining.  

He moves you closer to him before kissing you slow, nose brushing yours. Your hands find his shoulders.

That’s when he feels it. Hears a ghost of it, the three words, mouthed against his lips.

I love you.

Funny how things work. How one day a man in a red leather bodysuit dragged him out of a dive bar and into a chance at redemption within a world that’s not his. How he ended up with the most miraculous stroke of serendipity on his lap that led him to mixing his laundry with yours. To distracted movie nights and domestic dinners. To holding you in his arms like he finally gets to keep something he fought tooth and nail for. 

Funny how you thought he was sick of you, when he’d be happy to only think of you forever.

You part from the kiss first and he sees you look at him, expectant gaze wavering a little. He curls his lips into a smile—he made you wait. You’ve gotten better at making your wants clear, even if it’s left unsaid.

As if to reward you, he kisses your forehead, then leans down, nose brushing yours. He whispers against your skin.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” 

And then you exhale like your world is alright again.

Logan hears you first before he sees you enter the apartment. You’re sighing, looking a little haggard compared to when you left for work in the morning.

He makes his way to the door, but before he can help you with your bag, you’re already walking towards him, a smile on your face. Like you’re ready to breathe him in deep.

“I’m home,” you greet, voice light. He hooks your bag onto his elbow before holding your waist in both hands, pulling your body closer to his and slanting his face as he leans down. 

You melt into the kiss.

“Yes, you are,” he hums, a breath apart, before pressing his lips onto yours again.

His home, that is.

taglist: @squishyfruitloop @britttzy267 @tezooks @ddwnghead @dear-detested @duckyyyx @hits-different-cause-its-you @mrfitzdarcyslover @snowlycanroc @teresas-lisbon @fidgetingbee @poopie-poopie @thedosian-trix

[radio96]

Once again reblogging stuff so I can read it when I’m off of work 😭

Close to You (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Oh my god. I got so carried away with this. It was not supposed to be this long. Anyway, here's the beach fic, y'all. This one is inspired by "Close to You" by Gracie Abrams...which is an absolute banger. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The team goes away on a weekend beach trip, and your pining for Logan comes to a head when you're forced to share a room...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!! Thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, soft!Logan, feelings, fluff, afab!reader/fem!reader, reader wears a bikini (no descriptions at all, though!), one bed trope (muahaha), friends to lovers, cursing, absolutely some grammatical errors bc this fic is so long, I think that's it!

Word Count: 6,577 this was so self indulgent

You step out onto the concrete and the salt in the air immediately coats your skin. The breeze is sticky and slightly humid, but it smells so good. You can hear the waves crashing against the sand, seagulls squawking above. Laughter on the boardwalk. Carnival music blaring from all the rides. It’s perfect—the sun is high, fluffy white clouds framing the endless blue sky.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Jubilee cheers, closing the car door as she slides out of the Jeep. 

Jean and Scott step out of their car, parked just up ahead, unloading their bags. “It’s so nice of the Professor to give us the weekend off!” Jean says excitedly, placing her bag down onto the sidewalk and wheeling it up to the porch of the house. “I can’t believe he rented this place for us.” It’s a yellow, two-story cottage with a lemonade porch, adorned with white shutters and a shingled roof.

Logan makes his way to the trunk of his Jeep, pulling out bag after bag. You rush to his side, reaching inside the trunk. “Let me help you,” you mumble as the rest of the team excitedly approaches the house. 

Logan smiles and shakes his head, reaching for the same bag you are. His fingertips brush yours as he takes the bag away, your heart beating in your chest at the sudden contact. “Don’t worry, princess,” he huffs, smirking as he places the bag down in front of you. Heat rises to your chest at the nickname. “Don’t lift a finger. Go inside and check out the place.” He nods his head towards the front door and grabs another bag. 

You smile, throwing your backpack over your shoulder, grabbing two bags, and carrying them to the front door in protest. “Gonna help you anyway,” you say over your shoulder. Logan chuckles as he closes the truck, grabbing the rest of the duffle bags and following behind you. 

He meets your side as you walk through the doors. The walls are pale blue, and the bottom halves are lined with white shiplap. Beechwood covers the floors. The living room is light and airy, white curtains floating through opened windows. The kitchen is off to the side, and to the back is a large open sunroom. Just straight ahead are the stairs. 

Jean and Scott settle some groceries on the counter as Jubilee, Kurt, Rogue, and Gambit head upstairs to see the bedrooms. 

“Hey, guys?” Jubilee calls from upstairs. You can tell by the sound of her voice that something is off. “I thought the Professor said there’d be six beds.”

Jean puts away a bag of chips and steps back into the living room, following Jubilee’s voice up the steps, and disappearing as her feet hit the landing. “How many are there?” She asks, her voice muffled.

“Five,” Jubilee answers. “Three queens and two bunk beds, and Kurt and I took the bunks already.”

“That’s fine,” Jean says, shrugging her shoulders as she heads back downstairs. “We’ll all just be a little tight—closer quarters than usual.”

And that’s when it finally hits you. Three queen beds—and Kurt and Jubilee took the twin bunks. 

You’ll be sharing a room with Logan.

You turn to him and find that his eyes are already on you. “You okay sharing, princess?” He asks, nodding to the steps.

You swallow harshly, trying to mask your nervousness, hoping Logan can’t hear the way your heart beats out of your chest. “Yeah!” You say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Totally fine with it.”

He nods, smiling softly as he walks towards the steps, his bags in his hands. You follow behind him, the wood stairs creaking with every step you take. 

Jean was not exaggerating; the upstairs of the house is extremely small. There may be four bedrooms—but bedroom is a generous title. Each room is only large enough to hold a queen bed, a single dresser, and a small nightstand on either side of the bed. There’s little to no walking room. One of the rooms—Kurt and Jubilee’s—has just a bunk bed and a nightstand, with a tiny wardrobe in the corner. In the center of the tight hallway is a bathroom with a simple sink, toilet, and a stand-up shower. 

Logan steps into the first bedroom to the left of the stairs and puts his bags down on the ground. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asks, watching as you put your bags down next to his. “I can sleep on the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”

You shake your head, walking over to the window and taking in the view of the ocean. “Don’t worry,” you say, watching kids run across the sand, trying to distract yourself from how close Logan is to you in this tiny room. “We’re adults.” You turn to face him, fighting the urge to let your eyes trail up and down his body. “We can share.” Or at least, you hope you can. 

You can handle this for a weekend. You can force down your feelings—can ignore your massive crush on Logan for seventy-two hours. That’s all this is. A weekend trip. This is doable. You’ve been through so much worse than this. 

“If you change your mind, you can let me know,” Logan says, reaching his arm out towards your shoulder. His knuckles brush against your bare skin, and you let yourself lean into his touch. He’s warm, solid, cozy—

“Let’s go to the beach!” Jubilee interrupts, Logan’s hand falling from your shoulder instantly. “We didn’t come here to sit in a house all weekend, did we?” She jumps away from the door and runs down the stairs. 

 “Kid has a point,” Logan says, shrugging his shoulders and nodding towards the door. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling widely. “Already have my bathing suit on.” Logan smiles back and grabs your wrist, tugging you into the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re sitting on the beach, watching as Jubilee and Kurt splash each other recklessly in the water. Jean sits in a chair, reading a book, while Scott lays on a beach towel, eyes likely closed behind his glasses. Rogue and Gambit walk down the shoreline, hand in hand.

Logan stands up from the beach blanket you share, tugging his beater up and over his head. “I’m going in,” he says, just to you. “Wanna come?” He reaches out his hand again, the same hand that tugged you the whole way here. You bite your lip, nerves building in your stomach again. “Come on,” Logan says, smirking. “I don’t bite.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you take his hand, standing up. You let go and tug your shorts down your legs. You look up at Logan as your fingertips find the hem of your tank top, his eyes trained firmly on you. Your stomach somersaults as you pull your shirt up your body, revealing your bikini top, knowing Logan is watching. 

Logan’s throat bobs as he swallows. He nods towards the ocean, wordlessly grabbing your hand again and tugging you along. 

The waves lap at your ankles, and you force yourself into the cold water. Logan seemingly has no problem at all, pulling you along from a few feet ahead. The water is already up to his hips. He looks behind at you, all wide-eyed and happy. 

“You’re not afraid, are you?” He teases, squeezing your hand tighter. Your heart drums against your ribcage at the feeling. He’s never held your hand like this. You try to shove down your feelings, to brush away how having him this close makes you feel, but nothing changes. You want him all the same. 

You take a deep breath and shake your head as the cold water barrels against the middle of your thighs. “No,” you protest. “I’m just freezing.” 

Logan smiles wider. “You gotta get all the way in!” He tugs you further, pulling you closer to him so that you’re shoulder to shoulder. You can’t tell if it’s the icy waves or your proximity to Logan that makes your heart freeze in your chest, that makes you crave the warmth of his body. You want to be close to him. You want him to pull you into his chest and hold you. 

“Do I have to?” You ask playfully, a half-smile turning up at the corner of your mouth. 

He jokingly rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says, dropping your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist instead. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. You choke on your own breath as he guides you further into the water. “You okay?” He asks. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble, his fingertips pressing against the bare skin of your stomach. Goosebumps pebble your flesh. Finally, Logan guides you all the way into the water, up to your shoulders. It’s a surprisingly calm day—the waves easy and gentle. 

Logan lets go of your waist and treads water, slipping underneath the dark blue current and coming back up—his hair wet, drops of water dripping down his face and neck. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips at the sight. 

“Your turn,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes half shut as he swims towards you. 

Your smile drops as you swim away. Logan grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him. You yelp as he tugs you closer. You turn around and splash him playfully, freeing yourself from his grasp as he wipes the salt water off his face. 

You laugh, still backing away from Logan. He creeps forward, assessing you like an animal stalks its prey. “You’re not getting away that easy, pretty girl,” he huffs. 

What was that? Your eyes widen as those last two words repeat in your head. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice him closing the gap between the two of you. Suddenly his hands are on your hips, dragging you into his chest. 

His grip is like iron around your waist, keeping you in place, your hips pressed to his, your chests touching lightly. You don’t feel the coldness of the water anymore—you can’t feel anything except Logan. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. The world stopped long ago, his arms wrapping around your back now, pulling you closer. The playfulness of the moment disappears—this is something else, something more serious. Logan brings his face closer to yours, his lips just centimeters away. This is it, you think to yourself. The moment when everything finally changes—

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls from the beach. Logan’s eyes fall closed—an almost defeated look painting across his face. Your head whips to the sand, and the team is standing by the beach chairs. Jubilee waves you and Logan over. “We’re going to the boardwalk! Come on!”

Logan opens his eyes. You think he’s going to push you away, to let you go, but he only holds you tighter. “Give us a second!” He shouts, frustration clear in his voice. 

But Jubilee crosses her arms against her chest. Scott chuckles and walks ahead with Jean. Gambit and Rogue look at each other knowingly, and Kurt teleports to the edge of the water. 

“And just like that…” Logan murmurs, half to himself, half to you. “Moment ruined.” 

You tilt your head, the implication of his words wracking your brain. “What do you mean—” 

But Logan is pulling you along with him to the shore before you can finish asking for clarification. His arms drop from your waist, his hand grabbing yours to guide you onto the sand. He bends down, picking up your shorts and top from the beach blanket the team left out, and passing them to you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, your hands parting as he shoves his beater up and over his head. Once you’re dressed, flip-flops and all, you join the team and make your way up to the boardwalk. 

Gambit is talking with Logan about something just ahead, trailing on and on, clearly irritating Logan, while Rogue falls back to walk with you. 

“So,” she says softly, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. “What’s going on there, sugar?” She asks, smirking. 

You furrow your brows, trying to hide your smile. “Nothing that I know of,” you say, somewhat honestly. This might be nothing—might just be a friend teasing another friend. A friend whose lips were just inches from yours, so close that you could feel his breath fanning across your face. A friend who dug his fingers into your waist to pull you closer to his—

“Nothing, huh?” She asks, snapping you back to reality. “Because I think he would’ve kissed you if Jubilee didn’t interrupt,” she whispers so only you can hear. 

Heat rises to your chest at her words. “I don’t know. We’re just friends…” You trail off. 

“We’ll see about that, sugar,” Rogue says, walking ahead, tearing Gambit away from Logan. Logan’s shoulders visibly relax once Gambit is gone, and he looks back at you, slowing his steps so that you can meet his side. 

“Hi,” he husks, smiling down at you. 

You smile back, the warmth of his hand suddenly spreading across your lower back. It’s gentle, the ghost of a touch, almost not quite there—more tentative than in the ocean when it felt like no one was watching. But it’s solid and centering all the same. 

“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” Jubilee suggests, holding out the ticket booklet that Jean and Scott ran ahead to buy. She tears out tickets—three for each person. Jean and Scott hold hands and walk to the front of the line. Rogue leans over to Jubilee, whispering something into her ear that makes her eyes widen. She nods and pairs off with Kurt. Rogue turns around and winks at you while Logan isn’t looking. 

You look up at him and see that he’s staring off at the sun slowly setting. Pink, orange, and red erupt in the sky, the colors blending, painting across the wispy clouds. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” you say as the others climb into the Ferris wheel gondolas in pairs. 

Logan smirks, his eyes finding yours as you approach the front of the line. “Looks like it, pretty girl,” he husks. There it is again. Pretty girl. The ride attendant slows down the wheel, and you and Logan slip inside the gondola. You think maybe he’ll sit across from you, but he sits next to you instead. 

The attendant closes the door of the gondola, and the ride starts up. Once you’re off the ground, Logan slips his arm around your shoulder, his palm warm against your bare skin. “This okay?” He asks, his lips at the shell of your ear. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as his thumb brushes gentle circles into your arm. You let your head rest in the crook of his neck, and he leans against you, fitting together like puzzle pieces. 

It’s silent communication—knowing, but not saying. You can feel his intention as his arm tugs you closer, his lips at the crown of your head. Your heart beats out of your chest—for the millionth time today—and you know he can hear it. 

You reach the top of the Ferris wheel and look out at the ocean, the sun hitting the water, turning the blue waves to gold. “It’s beautiful,” you mumble, the current rippling against the shore, glistening vibrantly like the ocean figured out alchemy. 

Logan chuckles softly. “I can think of something prettier, you know,” he husks, his lips still pressed into the crown of your head. Your heart thumps in your chest at his words. You lift your head, looking up at him.

His eyes meet yours, a soft smile playing upon his lips. “Logan, I—”

But the gondola comes to a sudden stop, and the door to the car swings open. You’re already back on the ground. The attendant crosses his arms, waiting for you and Logan to get out. Logan rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and helping you back onto the boardwalk. The team is already off the ride, waiting for the two of you at the exit.

“Why don’t we play some games and then head back to the house for the night?” Scott suggests, his arm wrapped around Jean’s waist. 

Jubilee smiles widely. “Yes! I wanna play the game where you throw the lobster into the pot!”

“Gambit’s gonna win chere a prize,” Gambit drawls, tugging Rogue into his chest. “The biggest one Gambit can find.” Rogue giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Jubilee and Kurt run off to the other side of the boardwalk, immediately finding the lobster-pot game. Jean and Scott follow behind, making sure they don’t get into trouble. Rogue and Gambit go out on their own, heading toward the ring toss game. 

You and Logan are left alone. Again. Surely everyone is doing this on purpose. “What do you wanna play?” You ask, nodding towards the array of games lined up on the opposite side of the boardwalk. 

His eyes meet yours, flitting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Whatever you want, darlin’.” You smile, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards balloon darts. 

You approach the booth, and Logan pulls out his wallet, handing a five-dollar bill to the woman running the game. She slides a cup of five darts towards you and Logan, and steps off to the side, away from the balloons. Logan watches as you grab a dart and throw, completely missing the balloon you were aiming for. You groan, rolling your eyes, and grab another dart. 

“Here,” Logan rasps, standing behind you. He holds your hand in his, lining the dart up to a balloon. His other arm wraps around your waist, the front of his hips pressing into your back. “Like this,” he murmurs, pulling your hand back. You let go of the dart when he thrusts forward. The dart pierces a balloon, the pop echoing through the booth. 

You look up at him, his face close to yours, and smile. He grabs another dart, his eyes still focused on you, and throws without looking away, popping another balloon. “Now you’re just showing off,” you say teasingly as your smile grows wider. He grabs another dart, aiming at a bigger balloon this time, and pierces it with ease. 

“Gotta win you a prize, pretty girl,” he says, grabbing the last dart from the cup, and tossing it across the booth, directly into the biggest balloon on the board. It pops—of course—and the game attendant’s jaw drops. 

She shakes her head, walking over to the bigger prizes. “Never seen anyone do that before…” she trails off, pointing to the giant plushies. “You can pick any of these.”

Logan’s arm sneakily wraps around your waist as he waits for you to pick between a giant fox, panda, or dolphin. “The fox, definitely the fox,” you decide. 

The attendant grabs the fox and pulls it down, handing it to you. You squeeze it to your chest, Logan’s grip on your waist tightening. “He’s so cute!” You giggle, looking up at Logan, who’s guiding you towards the edge of the boardwalk. “Thank you,” you say softly.

He shakes his head and looks out towards the water. “It was nothing,” he says, his arm still around your waist as you lean against the railing of the boardwalk. The sun is falling behind the horizon, stars rising in the sky. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he turns to face you. “Listen…” He starts, his jaw working as his grip on your waist falls away, his forearms bracing on the railing. Your shoulder presses against his, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking…” But he pauses again, his eyes searching yours. 

“We ready to head back to the house?” Scott asks, interrupting the conversation. Logan’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he leans forward. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Logan mutters, thinking you can’t hear him, resting his head against the railing. 

Jubilee grabs your arm, holding up her little stuffed teddy bear. “Look what I won!” Her smile drops when she sees your giant fox. “Oh my god, my bear is nothing compared to that! That thing is massive!”

You smirk, glancing over at Logan. “Wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t for him.” Logan lifts his head and smiles sheepishly at you. 

The moon rises high in the quickly darkening sky. You’re not quite sure where the day went. Everything happened so quickly—the hours spent on the sand, Logan tugging you into the water. It was perfect. Beyond perfect. And now it was time to head back. 

The team treks down the boardwalk and onto the street, trailing a few blocks before arriving back at the house. You and Logan walk shoulder to shoulder the whole way there, leading at the front of the group. Logan grabs the key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and you all head inside. 

Jubilee and Kurt run into the kitchen scavenging for snacks. Gambit and Rogue crash onto the living room couch. 

“We’re gonna head to bed,” Scott says, Jean following him up the stairs. “Night, guys.” Everyone mutters soft goodnights in response, and a comfortable silence falls upon the house. 

“Gonna steal the upstairs shower before they get to it,” you whisper to Logan, nodding to Jubilee and Kurt. 

He smirks. “I’ll shower down here,” he says back. “See you upstairs?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer, suddenly remembering that you’re sharing not just a room with Logan, but a bed. You walk away and head upstairs, grabbing your pajamas from your duffle bag and making your way to the bathroom.

You turn on the water and undress. The shower is warm and relaxing, releasing the tension you had spent the entire day holding in. But the peace is temporary—your thoughts drift off to Logan. You imagine him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, waiting for you to join him. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you try to ignore the heat growing at the bottom of your belly. Maybe you should’ve taken a cold shower instead. 

You finish up in the shower, turning the water off and grabbing a towel. You reach for your pajamas, only to realize you forgot your bottoms and your bra. You step into your panties and shrug your oversized band t-shirt over your head. You push the bathroom door open just a crack, and seeing no one in the hallway, you make a break for it, tip-toeing to your room. You slip inside and shut the door. 

Logan coughs from behind you, and you whip around. “S-sorry,” he stutters, standing up from the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless, just like you imagined he’d be, wearing only a pair of boxers. His hair is still damp from his shower. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off. “No, no,” you assure. “It’s totally fine.” You’re worried you sound too eager, too focused on making sure he stays. You clear your throat nervously, stepping towards your duffle bag. You lean down, hoping your t-shirt is still covering your ass as you rifle through your belongings. You groan when you finally realize you forgot to pack pajama shorts. You stand up and make your way around to the left side of the bed.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks, following suit and walking to the right side of the bed. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I, um…” You trail off, motioning towards your duffle bag. “I forgot pajama bottoms,” you finally spit out. “If you’re uncomfortable or—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off this time. “I’m not uncomfortable at all.”

You smile, climbing into the bed and slipping under the covers, and Logan does the same. He rolls onto his side and turns off the lamp—the only light on in the room. The space is engulfed in darkness save for the pale light of the moon pushing through the curtains. 

You take a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you can comprehend. You could simply turn away from Logan, but you’re too anxious to move. Your stomach somersaults as his knee brushes against your thigh. You force your eyes shut, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, you know,” Logan mumbles into the dark room, shuffling under the covers. “You okay?”

You swallow harshly, humming a soft mhm, too distracted to form a complete sentence. 

“I know you aren’t telling the truth, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, his hand finding your waist. “I can sleep on the couch, if you—”

“No,” you protest, the words escaping your lips almost uncontrollably. “It’s f-fine,” you stammer. “I’m fine.”

He chuckles darkly. “Then what’s got you so worked up, huh?” Oh. He knows. He has to know. You can hear it in his voice. 

“N-nothing,” you lie, your eyes fluttering open. Logan is closer to you now, his fingertips trailing down to your thighs, to the hem of your shirt. 

“Relax,” Logan husks, his hand slipping back up your body and settling on your waist. He tugs you closer to him. “This okay?” He asks, and you hum a quiet yes. You can feel the tension thickening, feel it readying to snap. He breaks the silence. “Thought about this all day, you know.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “Th-this?” You ask, your legs tangling with his. 

“Being alone with you,” Logan rasps. Your shirt hikes up as he pulls you into his chest. “Wanted to get you alone earlier,” he says, his hand sliding back down your body, playing with the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingertips drag along your stomach. 

You curse under your breath, Logan’s forehead pressing against yours. “Logan,” you whisper, his name the only thing you can think of. You’re sure he can smell the arousal building between your thighs. 

“There’s no going back from this. You know that, don’t you?” He whispers, his breath hot against your lips. He’s so close, his thigh pushing between your legs, bumping against your core. 

“Yes,” you sigh. “Don’t wanna go back.” 

Your eyes flutter closed, overwhelmed by how close Logan is to you. “Good,” he breathes. “Because you have no idea how much I need you.” 

His lips crash against yours, his thigh dragging along your core. You moan into his mouth, his tongue swiping across your lower lip. You part your lips, inviting him inside, his tongue tasting yours. 

“Logan,” you whine, involuntarily bucking your hips, grinding down on his thigh. “N-need you too.”

“I know, beautiful,” he soothes, gripping your waist, rolling you onto your back, pushing you into the mattress. “Fucking thought about you all day, always thinking about you.” He slides your shirt up above your tits, drinking you in with his eyes. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.” He hovers over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand explores your body.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he palms your left breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and then doing the same to the other side. It’s dizzying having him this close. You can smell his body wash—notes of musk and pine and a hint of leather on his skin. 

“Please,” you beg, not quite sure what you’re even begging for. All you know is how badly you want him—need him. 

Logan buries his face into the crook of your neck as his thumb rolls over your nipple, biting down on your pulse point and sucking the sensitive skin between his lips. “Please what, darlin’?” He mumbles, continuing his assault on your neck. 

“F-fuck,” you whimper, your hips rocking against Logan’s. “W-want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? That what you want?” Logan teases, his hand pushing between your legs, his fingertips finding your clit through your panties. “What if I wanted to taste you first?”

“W-whatever you want,” you moan, grinding down onto his hand. “I’m yours.”

He lifts his head from your neck and presses his forehead to yours. “Whatever I want?” His voice is thick, cocky, almost mocking. “You’re mine,” he husks, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck. “All fucking mine.” He crawls down your body, trailing kisses down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, stopping just above the hem of your panties. 

Your hips lift off the mattress as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, throwing them to the floor. He nestles between your thighs, his breath hot against your cunt. You tremble in anticipation, watching as he breathes you in, his jaw working. You can see in his eyes that he’s holding himself back. 

“Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice suddenly soft, his cockiness replaced by genuine care. "Not gonna be able to stop once I start.” But you know he doesn’t just mean in the moment, right now—he means forever. 

“I’m sure, Lo,” you whine. It comes out like a prayer, like a desperate cry, a guilty plea. 

And then he buries his face into your heat, his tongue swiping through your folds. He grunts against you, flicking your clit before stroking his tongue through your folds again. “Fuck,” Logan groans, his face pressing harder into you, his tongue exploring your cunt. “Tastes better than I ever imagined,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his voice pulsing against your core. “So fucking sweet.”

Your hips jolt away from him as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit. His palms quickly slide under your legs, wrapping around your thighs, yanking you back to his face, and holding you down onto the mattress. “Don’t move, princess,” he chides, his nails digging into your flesh. “Wanna eat this pretty pussy.” 

“L-Lo,” you stutter as his tongue draws tight, rapid circles around your clit. You’re already close, his teasing words enough to push you over the edge. But you know he’s nowhere near done—he’s only getting started. 

His right hand loosens its grip around your thigh, his nails dragging down the curve of your ass and towards your folds. His fingertips prod your slit, spreading your slick. “So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” he praises, his lips wrapping around your clit, his teeth grazing the bud lightly as he sucks. “Want my fingers?” He asks, knowing your answer, but wanting to hear you beg for him. 

“Yes, Logan, please. Need—” 

He’s thrusting two long, thick fingers deep inside you before you can finish your sentence. “Fuck,” he whispers, pulling out and pumping back in—down to his knuckles. He stills inside you, letting you adjust to him. “So goddamn tight.” His tongue laps at your clit. “Gonna have to work you open for me, hm?” He mutters, thrusting in and out now. 

You’re so overwhelmed, your swollen clit already overstimulated. He wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking harder this time, his fingers unrelenting as they plunge deeper with every pump. His tongue draws long, hard strokes around your bud, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

It feels like a wildfire is spreading through your veins, a current dragging you under and holding you down. Warmth blossoms in your belly. “Doing so good for me, beautiful,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you. Your walls flutter around him at his words, sucking him in deeper. “Know you’re close, pretty girl.”

“Logan,” you moan, his tongue drawing those tight circles around your clit again. He’s adding more pressure, his fingers dragging along your walls, scissoring inside you, splitting you in two. “Please, need to come…” You trail off, your back arching off the mattress, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

“Come for me,” Logan demands, his voice dark and filled with lust. “Wanna know what it tastes like.” His tongue presses harder into your clit, his fingers rocking in and out of your entrance. “Wanna see that pretty face when you let go.” 

And then the tension breaks, white-hot heat pouring freely from the bottom of your belly. Your vision goes blurry as Logan laps at your clit, his fingers still pumping in and out, working you through your high. You moan his name, pleasure ripping through your body in intense waves. 

His pumps relax, his fingers stilling inside you before he finally pulls out. His face is still buried against your cunt, licking long stripes through your folds. He’s savoring the taste of your release, drinking every last drop you have to give. “Can’t get enough of you,” he husks. “Could do this forever.” 

He licks one last long stripe through your folds before lifting his face from your cunt. He’s a mess—your release glistening on his chin, his hair disheveled, his boxers all wrinkled. Your heart beats in your chest at the sight. All this, just for you. 

Logan crawls up your body, hovering over you again, lowering down onto his forearm. “Wanna fuck you, beautiful,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. “Wanna know what you feel like.” His hand slips between your legs, his fingertips finding your swollen clit and giving it a gentle pinch. Your hips buck against him at the sudden sensation. 

“Wanna feel you too,” you whimper, your arms wrapping around his back. “Want you inside me, please.” 

And then he’s tugging his boxers down his legs, his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh. You can’t see—but you can feel just how massive he is. His tip slides through your folds, spreading your arousal. 

“You know how bad I need you?” Logan whispers, his lips finding yours. He bites your lower lip and kisses away the pain. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” And then he sinks himself inside you, down to the hilt with one smooth, fluid thrust. “Thought about this every day since I met you.” 

Your muscles release and contract at his words. His hips stall, letting you adjust to the size of him. You feel indescribably full. He’s splitting you open, stretching you out, claiming you as his. His hips pull back, his cock sliding out, and he plunges back in, somehow deeper this time. 

“Th-thought about you too,” you stutter, already too fucked out to form a coherent thought. “Always wanted you.” Logan sets a reckless pace as his fingertips find your clit again, working long, languid strokes into the bud, teasing you, leading you on. 

“You feel so perfect,” Logan praises, rocking into you, his cock dragging along your walls. “So fucking warm, so tight. Made for me.” His lips are on yours again, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, swallowing your moans. “Never gonna want anybody else, pretty girl.”

His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit faster now. “Just want you, Lo,” you choke, the tension building at the bottom of your belly, a fire burning through your bones. “Only want you.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice suddenly soft, contrasting with the way he pounds into you recklessly, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every pump of his cock. “It’s you, just you.” You can hear the emotion in his voice, the sincerity, the desperation, the aching longing. 

Your chest heaves against his. He’s fucking you to get closer to you, to be as deep inside you as possible. This isn’t just sex—this isn’t just some tension that needs to be broken. It’s an invisible string keeping the two of you tied closely together. Maybe it was stitched by the Fates centuries ago, laid out carefully, a plan to be executed. Maybe everything that led you to this moment was always meant to be. Because here you are now, his lips soft and hungry against yours, his words tearing through your resolve, his cock buried deep inside you, searching for a way to get deeper. And all you can think is…

This is it. This is what people mean when they talk about love—that word that changes its meaning every time you say it. The word with a definition that always escapes you. You know what it means now. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, that fire in your belly spreading through your body as he rams into you, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing along the walls of the tiny room. His fingers press harder into your clit, pinching softly, and then circling again. 

His cock twitches inside you. “Me too, beautiful,” he hums, his pace growing sloppier, his cock throbbing again. “You’re so perfect,” he praises. “Love you so much, pretty girl.”

And then the tension snaps, electricity buzzing through your nerve endings, fire prickling your skin as you melt into him. “Love you too, Lo.” Your muscles contract and release, squeezing around him, coming undone. 

Your walls clench around him again, and you know it’ll be the thing that pushes him over the edge. “Fuck, wanna come inside you,” he pants.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. “Please,” you beg, and with one more thrust he’s painting your walls, filling you up and letting go. 

You share one breath, panting, foreheads pressed together as Logan’s pumps slow, his cock stalling inside you. His fingers slip away from your clit, his arms reaching under your back as he carefully pulls out. You feel empty without him inside you. 

“Y-you can stay inside, if you want,” you offer as Logan rolls you onto your side, pulling you into his chest. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Is that what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his lips pressing to your nose now. 

“Yes,” you whisper. He swallows harshly as one of his hands slides down your body, hiking your leg up and over his hip. He lines his half-hard cock up with your entrance, his lips finding yours as he slides back in. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of being full of him again. 

He groans as he bottoms out. “So fucking good,” he praises, his arms wrapping around your back again, tugging you into his chest. 

You lay in comfortable silence, listening as Logan’s breathing becomes rhythmic. Your eyes grow heavy, and you bury your face into Logan’s chest. You can hear his heart beating.

“Love you,” he mumbles against the crown of your head. You can hear the sleepiness in his voice, the exhaustion. 

“Love you too,” you whisper, your breathing matching his, like you’re no longer two separate people, but one.

He presses a kiss to your head. “So lucky I met you,” he huffs. You smile against him. “So lucky I finally figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” You ask, looking up at him. 

He smiles down at you. “What love is supposed to feel like...” He trails off, and you watch as he chooses his next words. “What living is supposed to feel like.” 

You can feel tears brimming in the corners of your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away. “Me too, Lo,” you whisper, pausing…

“Me too.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @fanfic-writing-barbie @pedrohoe04 @cosmiccandydreamer @movhoney @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @maniuplatour *as always, I'm so sorry if I forgot to tag you*

[wchswift]

headcanons for a reader who’s lowk like intimidating to look at but like secretly such a softie and wants love with logan howlett ofc

✧ logan howlett x intimidating-looking!reader headcanons

notes: I hope you like it and that it's what you wanted!! I think I got a little carried away and it ended up being too long, but yea...

First Impressions:

✷ The first time Logan lays eyes on you, he thinks you’re so controlled and have such strong body language that he feels intrigued by your presence. You carry yourself with power—your gaze cuts, your posture screams confidence, and people get out of your way when you walk by. ✷ Logan always notices you the second you walk in a room — not because you’re flashy or loud, but because you’ve got presence. ✷ There’s something about your posture, the way your eyes sweep a space. You’re not scaring anyone — just… untouchable. Regal. Unreadable. You’ve got that look that makes people sit up straighter. ✷ People don’t mess with you. You don’t invite small talk. Even when you say something kind, people take a second to realize you were being kind. ✷ He respects it. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, but you can feel the caution in his stare. That low growl of curiosity. ✷ The students act differently around you. They scatter when you walk through the mansion halls, partly because of your intense presence, partly because of how silent and shadow-like you move. ✷ You don’t smile easily. Not because you’re angry—but because your resting face is unreadable. It makes people nervous. You’re calm. Composed. And undeniably striking. ✷ Logan doesn’t think you’re dangerous—he thinks you're sharp. A little hard to read. Mysterious. And he likes that. ✷ He doesn’t get intimidated often, but something about how effortlessly cool you look? Yeah. It makes him glance twice. ✷ Logan jokes to Scott that he has finally met someone who looks meaner than him. He’s interested.

Logan Sees Through It:

✷ Logan’s been around enough to know the difference between mean and guarded. You don’t glare — you just observe. You don’t sneer — you just don’t waste expressions. That’s not rudeness. That’s discipline. ✷ He catches on pretty quick that the image doesn’t match what’s underneath. ✷ He hears you humming softly while making tea alone. ✷ You pause to hold open a door for students and actually whisper “You’re okay, sweetheart” when one of them trips. ✷ You talk tough, but Logan sees how your eyes soften when someone’s hurting—even if you don’t say much. ✷ The moment that cracks him is the way you talk to animals. A stray cat shows up near the X-Mansion and you crouch down so carefully, calling it with the softest voice. ✷ You think no one’s watching, but Logan sees it all from the window. You scratch the cat’s ears and whisper, “You don’t have to be scared.” He blinks, surprised at how sweet you look.

The Real You:

✷ You overthink everything. Especially love. Especially Logan. ✷ You don’t know how to show softness without feeling exposed. But god, you want to. You crave touch. Quiet. Belonging. ✷ You write letters you never send. You keep things that remind you of good moments. You replay compliments in your head because you’re starving for them, even if you pretend you’re not. ✷ You’re gentle in private. Logan’s the first person who gets to see the way you whisper good mornings like they’re a secret, or how you carefully fold his flannel when you borrow it. ✷ You cry once. It takes everything in you to not apologize for it. Logan’s thumb swipes over your cheek, “Ain’t nothing weak about feelin’ things. Least of all you.” ✷ The first time he calls you “soft,” you stiffen like you’re insulted. Then he leans down and murmurs, “Didn’t say weak, darlin’. Just said soft.” And you melt. ✷ You have a “stoic face” but Logan lives for the tiny shifts—eyebrow quirks, lip twitches, the soft focus in your eyes when you're half-asleep leaning on his shoulder. ✷ You pretend you’re fine after missions. Logan sees right through it. When you’re hurt, he growls, “Stop acting like you don’t need help. I wanna take care of you.”

Your Relationship:

✷ Sunshine/grumpy? Nope. You’re both grumpy. But deep down, you're just as soft, if not softer, than him. ✷ He calls you things like “tough girl,” “heartbreaker"— teasing names that only he’s allowed to use. ✷ Logan never underestimates you, but he never lets you overextend yourself either. "You’re strong. I know. You don’t have to prove that to me, ever." ✷ You two are the kind of couple people are scared to approach but also whisper about—“they’re scary… but have you seen the way they look at each other?” ✷ He calls you intimidating, but never in a mocking way. It's respect. "You walk like you own the room, sweetheart. Can’t blame people for being a little nervous." ✷ He loves that you’re tough-looking. He thinks you look hot as hell when you spar, when you walk through the halls, when you stand behind him with arms crossed like you’ll kill for him. ✷ But his favorite look is when you’re in his shirt, barefoot, blinking sleepily, asking if he wants pancakes. ✷ To everyone else, you two look like a power couple and even more intimidating together: composed, guarded, silent, strong. ✷ But behind closed doors, you're curled up in his lap with your face buried in his chest. He strokes your hair, calls you “soft thing” and “my girl” in that low, raspy voice. ✷ He gets used to you being shy about asking for affection. So he learns to offer it before you have to say anything. ✷ He adores that you only soften for him. That the world sees steel, but he gets all the honey.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

⛥ main masterlist.

taglist: @cruel-as-sin @logaenhowlett @kvntonq @tinas111 @mcrdvcks (if you want to be added or removed let me know <3)

[wishful-sinful-9]

WOLFMOON

Logan howlett x reader (18+)

cw: period sex, fingering, dubcon(?), shower sex, some real freak shit

Even after two centuries of existence, Logan still battled man with animal near-constantly — his lupine instincts pushing to the forefront of his mind far more frequently than he would care to admit.

As now, as his lover had pushed him away in a squabble not two days ago and he could smell the shift in the air almost instantaneously. Thick and angry.

Until, he noticed the phase of the moon and everything clicked into place.

Ah, so it was that time.

He could hardly blame you, noticing your discomfort and sensing your pain as it pained him to know you were in it. He offered hot waterbottles and chocolate and gentle touch, not too forward, so as not to scare you away. You wouldn’t bite.

So he did what he had to do.

-

The shower was running when he got home. He thought of your naked form under the stream of water — droplets running down your form, clinging to your lashes… He headed straight for the bathroom.

You jolted at the sound of the door opening suddenly, hands freezing in your hair. “Logan?”

He did not respond; you frowned. “Lo—”

The shower curtain was yanked back to present your boyfriend, a dark, unreadable expression on his face as he took you in.

“The fuck is up with you?” You spat, feeling hot with hormonal irritation all over again. “I’m trying to shower, Lo, can you please— what are you doing?!”

Fully clothed, he stepped into the shower and you backed into the corner. The water clung his shirt to his form and soaked his hair, his dark eyes menacing through the steam thick between you. You swallowed nervously.

“I think you need to relax, sweetheart,” his words came out deep and hoarse, short with barely-concealed restraint, “I think you want to feel good, yeah?”

He moved towards you and wrapped one arm around your waist — sticking his other hand between your thighs. His thumb grazed your clit and a gasp wrenched from your throat.

“I—I’m on my…peri—”

He shushed you, pressing tighter circles against the swollen bud. You pressed your hands weakly to his chest in a feeble attempt at escape. His lips meet your neck, “I know.”

A thick finger prodded and penetrated your entrance and a pathetic whimper tumbled from your lips.

It curled against that spot that weakens your knees — followed by another, slipping in far more easily than usual. The knowing of why made your ears burn and you hesitantly looked downwards.

Blood slid down his fingers as he worked them, undeterred, set on pleasing you.

“Lo… please—”

Your voice was weak with pleasure. His movements only grew quicker with your half-hearted protests, and soon wanton moans stifled them.

He pressed you closer — pebbled nipples crushed into the hard plane of his chest — and nibbled your ear, rumbling, “Close, doll?”

With a cry, you came undone, messy on his fingers.

You watched your blood wash away with the water, swirling around the drain and running down Logan’s forearm, with a hammering heart and bleary eyes.

“There’s a good girl,” he crooned, lifting you bridal-style into his arms and turning off the shower.

As he lined your panties with a pad for you and towelled you off gently, you blinked up at him sheepishly. “Sorry for being so bitchy these past few days.”

He chuckled and kissed your forehead.

“Take it out on me all you want, princess, just means I haven’t been fucking you enough.”

a/n: I’d apologise for this but I’m not really sorry LMAO

[ddejavvu]

Mean!Logan who refuses to give you his cock, Mean!Logan who says you didn’t earn it so you only get silicone and lube

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Logan takes great pleasure in pretending he doesn't love you. He pretends to be indifferent to your begging even though it makes his cock ache in his jeans, and he steels himself against your teary eyes as he steadily pushes a lubed toy into your hole. It's weepy already, glistening from a round of one-sided kissing where he could feel you rubbing against the friction-filled sensation of his jeans.

He loves the way you cry for him; he loves knowing you want him so badly that not having him is agony. And he knows what they say: distance makes the heart grow fonder. So here he is, keeping himself fully clothed while you spread your sex open for him to fuck.

He's gentle with the toy out of courtesy, but he knows that's worse. You're used to him, his rough thrusts and his merciless pace, so laying there and being carefully penetrated by a silicone mockery of his cock must be torture. He can tell it is by the way you're whimpering, and part of it is the pleasure of the vibrations but part of it is the constant ache for more, bigger, better.

"I'm sorry," You blubber, fist clutching desperately at his jeans, "Please, can I just- can I just have you? I want you-your cock, not this."

"This is what you deserve." He hums gruffly, angling the vibrator deeper into your hole, "I told you last time not to let yourself cum before I was finished working you up. I was gonna make you shake, sweetheart, I was gonna have you screaming my name until your throat hurt. But you let go and it wasn't very good, was it?"

"It was good." You insist, gripping harder at him, your hand now clawing at his arm, "Logan, it was great, everything you do for me is great, I- I swear!"

"It could have been better." He shakes his head, peering down at you with an indifferent expression. It's difficult to school his features into the blank stare when he really wants to be licking up the sweat that's gathering on your neck, "It should have been better. But now," He grunts, kicking the vibration frequency up a notch and watching as the rose-tinted lube smears into your own slickened sex, "You can have as many mediocre, disappointing orgasms as you want. Go on," He angles the toy up so that it buzzes roughly against your clit, "Grind on it, angle your hips up, do whatever you want. You chose this, so use it."

"I want you! I choose- I want to choose you," You gasp for breath, trying to clench your legs around the vibrator to see if it helps give you any of the intense stimulation you're so accustomed to from Logan's sex drive and strength.

"Maybe next time," He chuckles darkly, "This time, this is all you get, because this is all you deserve."

[unlikeable-female-character]

untitled Worst!Logan x reader fic

I found this in my notes on my phone - I started writing it back in February and never really got anywhere. It's not got much plot, or much of anything really, but it's a sweet little thing and it's an attempt to write for a different Logan (and yes Wade is there)

Maybe it will grow into something else, who knows.....

warnings - none really except a bit of bad language, implied violence, implied sex.

****

‘Oh!’

You didn’t mean to sound so shocked but you also hadn’t expected to find Logan on the roof.

‘Hey,’ he said quietly, raising a hand in greeting.

You pushed the door to the roof closed and walked over to where he was sitting, pulling your coat tighter around yourself in an attempt to keep the cold night at bay. Logan patted the stone ledge next to him and you sat down.

‘Thought I was the only one who came up here,’ you said.

Logan released a small laugh, his breath coming out in a puff of steam

‘Wade’s been dancing on my last nerve, thought it would be better to escape up here before I accidentally gutted him.’

You looked over at him

‘Actually accidentally or ‘accidentally’?’ You raised your fingers and made air quotes. Logan merely chuckled.

You couldn’t help but shiver a little in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. You’d seen Logan’s claws, those brutally sharp things, unsheathed in anger towards Wade only once before. Knowing that whatever damage they did to him Wade could shake off with barely a thought didn’t help when you considered all the people who weren’t so blessed. Or cursed.

You heard a clink and looked over to see Logan pouring himself a drink from a metal thermos. The smell of strong coffee hit your nostrils. He took a sip and offered you the other side of the cup.

‘Don’t worry, I don’t have any communicable diseases,’ he smiled, ‘it’s also just coffee. In case you were wondering.’

You blushed a little and were ashamed to admit that yes you had been wondering. You knew Logan was trying his hardest to cut back on his drinking, and you also knew that it wasn’t easy. You took the cup and sipped.

‘For what it’s worth,’ you began, ‘I’m really proud of you. You’re doing well. And considering you’re living with Wade who would drive anyone to strong drink you’re doing even better.’

You looked over to him as you handed the cup back

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, ‘that really means a lot.’

You could see that it did. You weren’t sure many had told Logan they were proud of him, at least not recently. You’d assumed that his entire 200 plus years weren’t just sheer misery with no lighter moments but when you looked at him and you saw the sadness etched into his face, maybe not.

‘So what brings you up here?’ He asked

‘Couldn’t sleep,’ you replied, ‘got some stuff going on at work and it’s just playing on my mind a bit. Can’t switch off’

‘And you thought freezing to death might solve your problems?’

You laughed a little

‘It would definitely be one solution yes.’

Between you you finished the rest of the coffee and sat in comfortable silence for a while, just staring up at the stars and listening to the sounds of the city.

‘Y’know, if you ever need someone to sound off to, I’m happy to listen,’ Logan said eventually.

You looked over at him

‘I appreciate that, thank you,’ you smiled, ‘I mean I used to try talking to Wade and as much as I love him he’s not really one for…keeping quiet’

Logan let out a snort.

‘Ain’t that the truth?’

You both sat out for another hour or so, just chatting about everything and nothing, until a glance at your watch made you realise that you should probably make some attempt at sleep.

‘Sorry about the caffeine,’ Logan said, shaking his flask at you.

‘It’s fine. If I fall asleep at my desk tomorrow I’ll just blame you,’ you smiled

Logan smiled back and he walked with you to the door.

‘Are you coming to Wade’s party on Saturday?’ He asked

‘Not sure yet. Don’t think I’m really in the mood. What’s this one for?’

Logan shrugged.

‘Because it’s going to be Saturday? Fucked if I know’

‘Are you going to be there?’ you asked.

‘Don’t have anywhere else to be,’ he sighed.

You looked at him, thinking.

‘Maybe you don’t.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well…if I’m not in the party mood and you don’t want to be there, why don’t we escape?’

‘Escape?’

You shrugged.

‘Yeah. I don’t know….got to movie or out for dinner or something.’

Logan pondered for a moment.

‘You’d do that?’

‘I honestly can’t think of any other way to get out of it. You know how persuasive Wade can be’

‘True,’ Logan agreed, then said, ‘you know he’ll think it’s a date.’

You were silent for a while before answering.

‘Would that be so bad?’ You said turning to him

‘Um….’ Logan was genuinely lost for words. He’s grown fond of you in the months he’d been living with Wade, always enjoyed your company, but he’d never really thought you were anything but a friend and didn’t think you thought of him as anything more either. Until now.

‘I guess not,’ he said eventually.

‘Good,’ you smiled, ‘that’s sorted. There’s a great little Italian place about three blocks away, we could go there?’

By this time you had reached your door. Logan nodded.

‘Sure that sounds great.’

You smiled at him again and he thought he might melt into the floor. Was this really happening to him? Apparently it was.

‘We can meet downstairs about 7? Go from there?’

‘Yeah okay,’ he said still not entirely sure what had happened.

‘Awesome.’

Why wasn’t he leaving he told himself. Why was he still stood with you outside your door? Why weren’t you unlocking your door and telling him good night and shutting the door in his face? Why were you smiling at him like that and why was your hand on his arm? Why had he pushed you against the door and why were your hands in his hair and why were you kissing each other like your lives depended on it and why…

‘Oh my GOD!!!’

Logan leapt away from you and you both stood dumbstruck looking at a very happy looking Wade standing outside his apartment.

‘Oh my god oh my god! This is the best thing I’ve ever seen!!’ He’d run over to you and pulled you both into a crushing hug.

‘Wade,’ Logan said, wrestling himself away, ‘calm the fuck down.’

‘How can I be calm when I just saw two of my favourite people all hot and heavy in the hallway?’

You managed to untangle yourself from him and step back a little.

‘It’s not what you think,’ you said.

‘Oh hahaha no it’s exactly what I think and I LOVE IT!’ He clapped enthusiastically, ‘also no need to thank me.’

‘What the fuck would we be thanking you for?’ Logan growled

‘Peanut…Logie Bear…are you serious?’

‘I’m always serious’

Wade sighed

‘If it wasn’t for me you,’ he poked Logan in the chest, Logan slapping his hand away, ‘wouldn’t be here. Which means that you,’ he pointed at you, ‘would never have met him and the both of you wouldn’t be making out like horny teenagers in a public hallway. Just call me Cupid’

You rolled your eyes and moved to unlock your door.

‘I’ll see you on Saturday Logan,’ you said and very definitely slammed the door in Wade’s face. Wade immediately turned to Logan

‘And what is happening on Saturday?’ He asked

‘Nothing,’ Logan shrugged

‘Oh. So you’ll both be at my party?’

Logan paused

‘HA! I knew it!’ he bounced up and down, ‘You’re forgiven.’

Logan rolled his eyes and went into the apartment, heading straight to his room with Wade in hot pursuit.

‘So when were you going to tell me?’

‘About what?’

‘About you and our delightful neighbour and how you’re in love with in her’

‘I’m not in love with her’ Logan said and treated Wade to the second slammed door in his face of the evening.

Was he though? Logan lay back on his bed, sleep eluding him, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what Wade said. He liked you, that wasn’t exactly a secret especially not now, and yes he would be very pleased if Saturday night ended up with you under him moaning his name while he thrust himself into you over and over..

‘Fucking hell,’ he muttered to himself.

But that was just lust right? Pure lust and him being a dirty old man and he needed to stop thinking about you like that except when you laughed it was like fireworks went off in his brain and he didn’t think he’d ever heard a sweeter sound. He dug the heels of his hands in his eyes. Good lord why what was wrong with him? He didn’t need this extra complication in his life and he didn’t need you and he didn’t need a girlfriend and he didn’t need to wake up in your soft bed wrapped up in your warm blankets while you snuggled back into his embrace and oh for fucks sake.

Wade was making his way out of the kitchen with a bowl of cereal when Logan burst out of his room and stormed out of the apartment. He peeped his head around the door and watched as Logan strode down the hallway to your door and stood there for a few minutes, frozen. Against his better judgment and indeed his entire character Wade thought it best to leave him to it and quietly shut the door.

Logan stood staring at the number on your door. Maybe if he just did that for a while all of this would make sense. Except it wouldn’t. Because all he could hear was you, all he could smell was you, all he wanted was you. He was just about to raise his fist to bang on the door when it opened and you stood there before him.

‘Hi,’ you said.

‘Hi,’ he said back.

‘I was just going to come and see you’ you said

‘Why?’

You laughed.

‘Same reason why you’re standing outside my door at 2 in the morning?’

‘Fair enough’

You stood looking at each other.

‘Um do you want to come in?’ You asked

Logan nodded and stepped into your apartment. Even in the semi dark he could tell that your place was much nicer than his. Yours felt like a home rather than just a place to crash. Which if he was honest was all he’d really been doing at Wade’s.

You went around the lounge and turned on a few of the lamps, beckoning Logan to sit on the couch. You realised this evening - morning? - was the first time you and Logan had spent any significant time alone together. Before you had always been surrounded by Wade and his friends. It felt nice and scary to be so alone with Logan. You sat next to him.

‘Sorry I kissed you,’ he said

‘Why are you sorry? I think we kissed each other, Logan’

He shrugged.

‘Even so. Shouldn’t have taken advantage.’

You put your hand on his leg.

‘You didn’t. I liked it. It’s one of the reasons I still can’t sleep if I’m honest’

Logan didn’t reply, just sat staring down at your small hand on his leg. It felt warm and soft. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such casual tenderness from someone.

‘You okay?’ You asked

He nodded and looked up at you.

‘I should go,’ he said

‘Why?’

‘Because if I don’t I think I’m going to have to take you to bed,’ the words came out of his mouth before he realised

‘Oh….’

‘Fuck! Sorry!’ He leapt up from the couch and started to head to the door

‘Logan!’ You called and caught up with him, stopping in front of him before he could reach the door.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ you said and pulled him to you.

After, laying next to Logan, your legs entangled with his, his hand tracing a lazy path up your back, you couldn’t hold back a yawn.

‘Finally feel sleepy huh?’ he asked and you could hear the smile in his voice

‘Mmmm,’ you snuggled closer to him, ‘guess I just needed to be fucked senseless a few times’

‘Happy to oblige,’ Logan said.

‘I think I might call in sick,’ you yawned, glancing up at the clock beside your bed, ‘I need to be up in an hour. I’m not sure I’ll be fit for purpose.’

Logan smirked a little

‘You were fit for my purpose,’ he grinned and you punched his arm

‘Rude,’ you said, ‘anyway, who’s to say I didn’t orchestrate this to use you for my own purposes.’

‘I don’t mind,’ came the reply

Three. Three times he’d been happily used by you. Or you by him. Whichever it was you were both now dozing softly, warm against each other.

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours: