#logan howlett x vampire!reader

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

ook but Logan x vampire reader 🥺

like a real vampire, like in twilight, you can choose the powers she has, but she somehow comes to X-Men.

I really liked this idea! I might write more for vampire reader ngl 🤭

Request are open! As always thank you for reading and if you enjoy please like, comment and reblog it helps motivate me to keep posting on here <3

Logan never liked meeting the new recruits. He thought it was a waste of time, if they even made it far enough to be an actual teammate they never lasted long so why should he go out of his way to learn the new guys name?

Scott told him that a newbie was coming in the morning and said something about super strength and speed, but there was something off about them, so he was warned to be careful and to play nice. Logan rolled his eyes and told him that if he was even awake by the time the newbie got to the mansion, he might stop by to say hi.

Everyone was surprised to see Logan actually there for the morning meeting. He couldn't really tell you why he was there he just had a feeling he should meet this new recruit, and God was he glad he actually showed up for a meeting.

When you walked in, it was like time stopped. If he hadn't known that your powers were super speed and strength, he would've thought you could control time. He was just in awe with your beauty, and then he snapped out of it quickly when he witnessed you break Colossus hand. 'holy shit!' His eyes widened, and he quickly looked between you and the broken hand. Now he's in awe for a whole other reason.

He tried to say something but he was at a lost for words "I... Logan," he cleared his throat and tried to speak again."I'm Logan," he says, sounding completely love sick as he gets up to greet you next. You flashed him a smile, showing of your fangs thinking it'd make him back off, but you, what didn't realize or expect, was that it only made him fall faster for you.

You're a vampire thats what "off" with you... you're immortal....you're indestructible. Fuck he was in love.

Logan had experience with vampires before. You don't live as long as he has and not run into some supernatural beings every once in a while. He knew all about the charm, the lust, the hunger that your species acquired as they aged, he knew that vampires tend to gain control of their needs as they age but their needs tend to grow stronger as their control strengthens. So when he found out you were around 115 years old, he knew you must've acquired a lot of those qualities that he was hoping you had. He just had to hope he could convince you to come to him for help when you started to lose control. He really hoped you'd lose control.

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

[tourturestarradio]

𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

“𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦. 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Prompt: Vampire reader x Wolverine/Logan Howlet, (platonically)

Warnings: teenage reader, kinda mean Logan

Part 1

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

Professor X stared at you who slept “they appeared last night?” He asked calmly, Jean nodded her head “Storm managed to calm them but they seemed on edge.” She explained, Ororo spoke up “I think it has something to do with these” she muttered pointing to the bruises and cuts you had all over your body.

Charles wheeled himself over to you “they didn’t harm anyone did they?” Ororo shook her head “apart from Logan no, frightened one but that’s all, Logan is cleaning up the mess they made in the kitchen they also seem to be non verbal but we don’t don’t known if it’s on purpose or if they just choose not to speak” she explained looking over you.

Charles placed his hands at the sides of your head traveling through your mind carefully. It was chaotic inside of your head no type of organization going on. Thoughts and messy memories being thrown around, It honestly started to overwhelm him as he backed away. 

As if on cue you sat up growing claws and backing away eyes darting around frantically “hey hey okay” Ororo was quick to calm you, your heart was pumping fast “it’s okay we were only helping” you looked down at your body seeing you were wrapped in bandages.

You looked at the bald man standing up shakily “good morning, I didn’t mean to frighten you” he said with a polite smile, “my name is Charles Xavier, nice to meet you Y/n” during his travel through you head he had caught your name. 

You looked at him questionably “I can tap into your mind” he hummed tapping the side of his head, you looked him up and down “Y/n what nice name, I see you’ve taken a liking to Ororo” the woman with white hair and brown skin smiled at you. 

He pointed to the other woman “that is Jean grey, she helped taking care of your wounds.” You looked at the woman with red hair she also smiled at you “hello”. 

You stayed close to Ororo “and this is Scott,” you tilted your head walking close to him staring at his glasses, reaching for them he stepped away “careful I can’t take these off” you frowned and went back over to the white haired woman.

“We’ve gotten you some clean clothes if you’d like Ororo could show you around” you picked up the clothes you grabbed your wrist but something was wrong looking around you patted around trying to feel for something “is something wrong Y/n?” Ororo asked.

Your eyes scanned the room as you pointed to your wrists, you couldn’t speak but you made small noises Jean came over to you “what’s the matter? Are the bandages too tight?” You shook your head  frantically. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you started claw at your arms, Charles tapped into you head again stopping you from harming yourself, one thing kept flashing through your head it was a bracelet. It was gold with red ruby’s embedded into the bracelet. 

He looked over at Jean “a bracelet their looking for a bracelet.” Your head snapped over looking at the him hurrying up to him you nodded “I saw a bracelet on them when I was treating them.” 

She patted her pockets feeling for it, grabbing it out of her pocket she called you over to her. “Here safe and sound” her tone was warm and comforting, snatching it from her you put it on carefully holding it close to your chest.

You seemed to relax once you had it on, causing the others to look at each other “that bracelet does it mean a lot to you” you looked at Ororo nodding slowly. 

She smiled “I’ll make sure it stays safe with you.” You grabbed the clothes, about to take of the medical gown but Ororo stopped you “hold on let’s get you to a room okay?” You nodded following the woman as she left the room.

“Seems like they have favorites” Scott joked, “yeah well she’s the only one who hasn’t used her powers on them” Scott nodded before turning his attention to Charles “what’s up with the kid?” He shook his head.

“They have seen many horrors their mind it’s scrambled broken trying to rebuild itself, no wonder they are always so on guard.” Jean stared at where you once stood “is it a mistake to let them stay here?” She asked, Charles shook his head “no, it’s never a mistake to help someone in need. They just need help clearing their head” he replied.

Scott spoke “so they’re a mutant what’s their power?” Charles thought back on your memories “they seem to have vampiric abilities, speed, strength, hypnotizing, and they can turn themselves into a bat. However they don’t seem to have much control over their powers” he explained.

Scott scoffed “that explains a bit, why don’t they speak?” Charles glanced at Jean “she’ll be able to explain that” Jean seemed to be pulled out of her daze “what…oh when I was patching them up they had a wound on their neck I think someone most likely stabbed them and damaged their throat.” She commented.

Charles looked down “that child has had a rough life from the start, I want to give them a new one a better one”

.

You followed Ororo around as she explained the different teachings at the school you hung on every word she said “now our job is to help people, not harm them” she hummed, you looked down the ground “you hurt people when they are trying to attack you, that’s called protecting yourself.” 

You held your stomach “you hungry?” She asked, you nodded your head again “well, you ate up most of the food we had last night, and left behind quiet the mess behind” you looked down in shame.

“Now don’t think you aren’t in trouble, you scared one of the children and hurt someone so before you can eat a proper meal you need to help clean up the mess you made.” She said, you frowned “don’t give me that look” 

You let out a sigh walking into the kitchen behind Ororo “Logan, you’re gonna be getting some help” she exclaimed, “why do I have to clean up after that brats mess?” Ororo rolled her eyes “because you were the one who decided to attack them instead of defusing the situation. Anyway they’ll be helping you clean up” 

You poked your head into the kitchen seeing the man dubbed as Logan. You glared at him growing out your claws but Ororo stopped you “what did I tell you?” You retracted them “now all you have to do is help clean up that’s all.” You nodded, waking into the kitchen “now I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit try not to tear each other apart.” She commented.

You stood there awkwardly staring not knowing what to do. Logan looked over to you “you gonna help or not?” You picked up the food on the floor not knowing what to do you put it back into the box, “what are you doing? Don’t put that back in there. You throw it out” Logan huffed snatching the box away from you. 

You made a smug face at him grabbing more stuff off the ground you threw it away “what did you come here for?” You glanced at him, not saying anything “not a big fan of taking are you?” you shook your head. 

You held up a piece of food “you were hungry?” You nodded, “why didn’t you just say so?” He joked, snickering to himself. You looked at him unamused, he rolled his eyes “if you needed help you could have just knocked at the front door instead of sneaking in we would have helped you.” 

You paused your movement for a moment before getting back to cleaning. Logan looked at you “look kid…I’m sorry I attacked you.” You looked at him blinking nodding your head, pointing to yourself you pointed back to him “what’s that mean?” You pointed to yourself then to him again.

It clicked for him “oh..you’re sorry for hurting me?” You nodded your head he smirked “hm maybe we just had a bad first impression” you nodded again. 

“I’m Logan.” He introduced, you blinked as if waiting for something “…right can’t talk…I’ll ask professor X later.” He muttered to himself.

You slowly walked up to him slowly, grabbing his hand you examined it “what are you doing?” He asked, you looked at his hand pressing your thumb into his knuckles. 

He realized you were trying to see his blades. He slowly slid his blades out you held your hand up growing your nails longer, he retracted his blades and you did the same. He slid out one claw, you copied him and grew out your middle nail. 

You copied him carefully maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought. 

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: *insert really awesome authors note*

[animasola86]

🦇 FANGS TO REMEMBER

m!vampires x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 3.6k

On your way back to the party, you come across a graveyard. Unbeknownst to you, you are trespassing onto someone's property, and they are not happy about it. Or are they?

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Vampires! Noncon/dubcon! Threesome! Spitroasting! Biting! (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part 5 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7 This is the continuation of OPTION 3/PART 4 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene:

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and after drinking a strange drink, you decide to get some fresh air, running into a werewolf who instantly decides to knot and breed you, and after that ordeal is done, you flee from him, and come across a graveyard...

ADDITIONAL WARNING: This one is very dark. It's more noncon than dubcon, so if you don't like the themes, you can skip it (imagine something dark happening) and read the next part here.

You look around, but there's only one way forward: through the graveyard. It's too dark to see anything else, no maze, no garden, no house, you can't even see the cabin anymore you just left. The night is eerily quiet, no critters, nothing. Even the wind seems to take a break for now.

Inhaling deeply, you hug your arms around your body and take a step through the large wrought-iron gates, looking left and right at the rows of crooked tomb stones. A strange mist wafts close to the ground, giving off an otherworldly glow. The moon is long gone it seems, the sky too cloudy to show any stars, but still you can see the various shapes around you.

You're not easily spooked, usually, but being alone in a cemetery at night makes your imagination run wild, wilder than it has been all evening. The slightest movement makes you flinch as you tread carefully along the path, goosebumps rippling over your exposed skin whenever something brushes against your bare legs. The shirt is soft and warm, but in the end not long enough after all, no matter how hard you tug at its hem.

A sudden shuffling sound makes your blood run cold and you freeze on the spot, your heart beating out of your chest, cold fear gripping your limbs. It came from behind one of the larger tomb stones, decorated with a small angel statue. You stare into the darkness, pressing your lips together to keep the noises from spilling past them. Probably just an animal. Your mind is surely playing tricks on you.

But when the same sound comes from right behind you, you whirl around with a shriek, stumbling back as you see a large black shadow blocking your view. You expect to fall onto your butt, but something keeps you from it, another shadow – and this one has hands. Hands that grip your arms, holding you tightly. Another scream rips from your throat as you thrash about, trying to get away, before another hand finds its way to your mouth, muffling all the noises you want to let out.

Your eyes are wide when the shadows around you form into the shapes of two big men, pale in the eerie light, tall and muscular, dressed surprisingly well for creatures that lurk in the dark.

“What do we have here?” the one with his hand on your mouth says, tilting his head, giving you a smile that makes his handsome face look almost diabolical. “A little rabbit? In our cemetery?”

“Did you get lost, little one?” the other man, the one behind you, whispers as he leans his head closer, rubbing his smooth cheek against yours. It's cold to the touch.

You stiffen, unable to do or say anything. Maybe you're still dreaming, or again. But the way these men grab you feels too real. They are strong. Intimidatingly so. You swallow hard, gasping when the one behind you gives you a deep sniff.

“Ugh, she reeks of dog,” he says with a drawl. “Had some fun with the beast, didn't you?”

Suddenly you feel a hand between your legs, a cold touch, coaxing a muffled yelp out of you as you feel probing fingers right against your warm crotch. “Huh, yeah, he got to her alright. Filled to the brim...” He pulls his fingers away and raises them to your face, and you can see the thick substance coating them. “Too bad, really, I was looking forward to ravaging that sweet cunt...”

You glare at him, both in shock and indignation. He pulls his hand from your mouth and shoves his soiled fingers between your lips. A muffled grunt of protest slips from your throat, but your attempts to get away are futile as the other man still holds your arms tightly. A bitter and slightly salty taste fills your mouth, but with how the man presses his digits onto your tongue you can't do anything but flick it around them, licking them clean.

“At least she seems quite obedient,” he muses with a menacing tone, watching you closely, moving his fingers in and out of your mouth.

“We can still have some fun with her,” the man behind you says quietly, his nose nuzzling your neck. “He hasn't marked her yet. She's fair game.”

“Splendid,” the other replies with a laugh and pulls his fingers away with a wet popping sound. You quickly swallow the spit gathered on your tongue and lick your quivering lips. “So, little bunny, do you wanna try to run? I would die for a little hunt... if I wasn't already dead,” he adds with a reverberating laugh that makes you shiver deeply.

You just stare at him, your chest rising and falling faster. “I don't think she'll come far,” the man rubbing his hands over your arms retorts. “She seems weakened. The beast clearly got her good. Let's just enjoy her until her heart gives out, hm?”

You gasp at the implication, immediately silenced by a hand reaching out to grab your chin. “Fine. It is already enough to hear this beautiful beat,” the man in front of you whispers as he leans closer. “Are you scared, rabbit?”

Your eyes dart over his pale face, and when he bares his teeth and licks them slowly, you stare at his pointy canines. After having just met a real werewolf (or so you think, it's all so fuzzy in your head right now), you shouldn't be surprised to meet actual vampires, in a graveyard no less, pale and cold and strong, with sharp fangs and insatiable appetites, but your body still reacts as if you were indeed just a bunny cornered by two predators. A tiny whimper escapes your throat. “Please...”

“Hmm? Please what? Use your words, darling!” the man behind you snarls, rubbing his nose against your neck before you feel his lips on your pulse, nibbling teasingly.

“Please let me go...” you press out.

“Not going to happen, sweetheart,” he replies, his low voice muffled. “You came to us. Walked right onto our property. It's our right to do with you whatever we like...”

You squirm in his hold when he laps his tongue up your neck. The other man watches you, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip before he suddenly leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours. You gasp, staring at him. “You won't regret it, little one,” he breathes against you. His skin feels cold, but the close proximity makes your cheeks burn up badly. “We'll give you a good time, don't worry your pretty little head!”

And suddenly you are being lifted, nausea rolling over you as you find yourself somehow floating in the air. It's all a blur at this point. Footsteps crunch over gravel and dead leaves, thump against stone plates, old hinges screech as a door is being opened. The fresh air becomes stale and dusty, the light even darker. You move down a set of stairs, but you can't move, your head is swimming, your insides tensing up in a way that borders on painful. You can barely breathe, and you have no idea why.

Candle light flickers to life when the men take you through a large wooden door. Your eyes blink into focus slowly. You seem to be in some sort of mausoleum, old looking, corners full of cobwebs, aged statues lining the walls. In the middle of the round room, there are two stone coffins, both of them open, their heavy stone slabs pushed to the side. You swallow hard, trying to see this as a scene, a decorated room fit for an elaborate Halloween party.

But somehow you doubt this is part of it.

“Excuse the mess,” one of the men says as he walks to the coffins. “We didn't expect company tonight...”

He raises a hand – and as you're being set down on your feet again, you witness how the heavy slab moves seemingly on its own or by a strange unseen force, leaving you even more confused. Both coffins are closed now, and before you can question anything else, you are being draped over the short side of one of them, stomach pressed to the cold stone, arms and legs hanging off the edges. A groan escapes you.

“Let's clean her up first, I can't stand the stink of wolf,” one man says as he steps behind you, pushing your legs further apart. You feel a strange coldness rushing through your body, like water, but not really wet, a sensation that leaves you choking on your own spit. “There, better. Don't you feel better too, darling? No longer stuffed full of disgusting beast semen? Well, I don't want to kink shame or anything, maybe you are into being bred, but we do like our holes squeaky clean – for us to soil all over again.”

You squirm on the stone slab, your hands trying to find purchase on the smooth surface, your legs kicking helplessly, but before you can do anything, the other man steps in front of you, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. You find yourself face-to-face with his throbbing cock. They don't seem to waste any time, huh? He presses his thumb and finger into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You issue a groan of protest that is quickly muffled by his surprisingly warm member. You have no choice but to close your lips around it. (Even if you wanted to bite down on him, you couldn't, his hand is still holding your jaw open.)

“Good bunny, you know what to do, hm?” he tells you, slowly rolling his hips against you, his tip scraping along your gums, teasing at the back of your throat. Saliva pools on your tongue, and you feel the need to swallow it before it drips past your lips. When you do, he groans quietly. “Oh, yes, like that. Do that again.” Somehow his words seem to encourage you, and you swallow around him once more, straining your throat enough for tears to fill your eyes.

Behind you, you feel two cold hands rubbing up and down your thighs, gripping them, pulling them apart, before they slip up your rear and push the large shirt out of the way. “So I assume after your little werewolf ordeal, your poor little cunt is a little tired, wouldn't you agree?” he rasps teasingly. “Good thing you have another hole, huh, my sweet?”

You let out a series of muffled cries around the cock in your mouth when you feel probing fingers between your ass cheeks. “Mhmmnngh!” you croak out, thrashing on the stone slab, trying to get away. A sudden slap on your soft rear makes you howl, but ultimately stops your fidgeting. Your skin burns and throbs horribly. “Shh, relax, rabbit. You can take it. See?”

Before you can react, you feel a strange pressure against your sphincter, a teasing touch but unrelenting, and suddenly you have a finger in your ass. Your tight muscles clench around the thick digit, and you wriggle in your compromised position, almost gagging yourself on the dick between your lips when you push yourself against the man's groin and his cock deeper into your mouth. A jerk goes through your body, your hands fruitlessly trying to hold onto anything.

You don't feel in control of your limbs anymore, it's strange. You can feel everything, but you can't move, only rock back and forth on the coffin. The man behind you pushes his finger deeper, then pulls it out and replaces it with two. The stretch hurts, and you let out a muffled wail. Your noises seem to encourage him when he moves them in and out faster, deeper, a hard press against your protesting muscles.

Meanwhile the man holding your jaw increases the pace of his hips slamming against your face. His cock pushes deep, and you gag violently when he breaches your throat, your body convulsing, spit filling your mouth. He pulls back slightly, allows you to breathe and cough and swallow, but then repeats the motion, and you gag again, and the cycle continues. Your head is spinning by the fifth time he forced his length down your throat, and you feel too weak to protest anymore.

Not even when you notice that the man playing with your ass has added another finger and is plunging his hand hard against your rear, a dizzying rhythm, forceful, stretching you for whatever comes next. You can guess and it scares you. But there's nothing you can do as he suddenly pulls his fingers out with a wet pop and you feel his cockhead pressing against your slightly gaping hole. A deep grunt escapes him when he rocks his pelvis forward, sinking into your depths without mercy, carving his way through your impossible tightness.

Your muffled scream is overpowered by loud gurgling noises as the cock in your mouth pistons in and out fast, always pushing deep, bulging your neck, his crotch slapping into your face with each thrust. You are pushed and pulled, rocked back and forth, impaled front and back, cold hands holding your head up or digging into your hips as the two men use you for their pleasure, their grunts filling the space around you.

Despite their rough handling, you feel a strange heat growing inside you, and you realize that with every slam into your ass or snap into your throat, you are rubbed over the rough stone, and your clit quickly feels raw and swollen from the added stimulation. Moaning into the rapidly moving cock in your mouth, you focus on the good feelings, not the burning friction in your rear, not the rawness of your throat, the lack of air or the helplessness, just the bliss that tries to fight through the pain and discomfort.

But before you can even imagine any edge to fall over, they suddenly slow down, languid strokes that push deep until they stop altogether, one cock buried deep in your ass, the other pushed all the way down your throat as pubic hair tickles your nostrils. Your eyes roll back, your lungs burn, your body spasms fruitlessly. Groans echo in your ear.

“Let's turn her around,” one says.

“You wanna switch places too?” the other replies, almost a little breathlessly.

“Sure, I bet she doesn't mind a little ass to mouth action, huh, sugar?”

A loud slap against your bruised rear makes you gag violently, and as spit fills your mouth and tears stream down your face, you are being rotated on the cold stone slab, arms still hanging limply to the ground while your legs twitch as they're being pushed up and against your heaving chest, opening you up further. Cold air brushes over your exposed skin, and for a short moment they let go of you, cocks pull back, leaving trails of stickiness all over your face and crotch.

You are lightheaded, barely able to function, and that moment of reprieve is short-lived. You didn't even get the chance to swallow or breathe properly before a cock is being shoved back into your mouth. Hands curl around the back of your head, holding it up as the stiff and slimy length is pushed straight into your bruised throat. You can only croak out a muffled grunt before a heavy pair of balls slam against your nose.

“Tongue out,” the man above you orders, and you comply, hoping it'll be easier with your mouth wide open and your tongue extended to guide the throbbing cock in and out. “Good. Just like that. Look at that neck bulging. Ugh,” he continues, groaning as he rams deep into your throat and rests there, cutting off any air flow you may have had earlier. You squirm on the coffin, limbs twitching helplessly.

Before you drift off into unconsciousness, he pulls back and slaps your cheek. The pain drags you back immediately. “No fainting, rabbit, we need you awake for this.” You cough hoarsely, spit and precum flying through the air. You're too weak to open your eyes, and it doesn't matter anyway. His hand is on your neck now, squeezing slightly. “Ahh, yes, listen to that frantic heartbeat,” he rasps, slowly slipping his cock back between your lips. “Are you afraid to choke, hm? Or does that turn you on?”

You gag when he presses into your throat slowly, your whole body jerking against the man on the other side, who's holding your legs open and pressed to your chest. You are allowed to cough and swallow before it happens all over again, again and again, and while one man fucks your throat with reckless abandon, the other rubs his cold hand down your mound, teasing at your swollen clit, parting your puffy labia, but then he dips his finger into your ass, completely ignoring your hungrily clenching cunt.

There's no further preparation, and a moment later he shoves his cock into your tight hole, making you wail against the dick in your throat. He lets go of your legs, causing them to flop about wildly with each thrust as he starts pounding into you hard and fast, then you feel his long fingers on your burrowed shirt. You barely register how it's ripped open, but you do feel those cold palms pressing onto your soft mounds, pebbling your skin, your nipples hardening instantly. The touch is almost soothing among all the other things happening to you.

It's a whirlwind of sensations, the lack of air and strain to your throat and jaw on one side, the rough friction and burning heat and hard pummeling on the other. You are moved back and forth on the stone surface, a limp body to be used. You don't know how long this is going on, but these guys seem to have incredible stamina. They just won't stop.

Whenever you feel as if you're slipping into the welcoming darkness, you are slapped and brought back, your cheeks burning and throbbing, but it's only one of many aches by now. You can't decide which is worse, the suffocating stretch when a cock buries deep into your throat, or the rough pummeling of sore muscles when the other cock rams into your tight ass. It's all a blur in the end.

The men are groaning and grunting, snapping their hips against you, uncaring of your discomforts. They're chasing their own orgasms while you remain teetering far away from any sort of release. The room is filled with loud squelching noises, gurgles and slurps, slapping of skin against skin, a soundscape that seems to be your only form of stimulation. Not even the cold hands on your breasts push you further to the edge, they are just there, holding you, groping hard, anchoring you as you are pushed back and forth.

At least they have a rhythm now, in and out in an alternating way, almost like a seesaw, in goes the one in your throat, out moves the one in your ass, and then it's the other way around. And somehow you find comfort in it as you lie there, held in place, unable to move, your eyelids fluttering, tears and snot drying on your sweat-slick skin.

It's then that you feel cold fingers brushing down your quivering belly, down, down, until they rub against your clit, and you arch your back, inhale that cock in your throat, jerk your hips against the one pounding into your ass, and you come, clenching down hard, stiffening, eyes rolling back, bliss exploding through the veils of darkness.

You feel like floating, leaning into the wave of pleasure that washes over you as you let it all happen. And as you do, the men's motions grow jerkier, rougher, faster, and they come too, almost at the same time. Cum shoots down your throat, and you'd expect to feel the same sensation in your ass, but the man there pulls out and empties himself all over your mound and stomach, all the way to your neck. The pressure in your throat loosens then, and similar spurts of wet warmth hit your face.

Raspy breaths make it past your soiled, swollen lips as you lie there with your eyes closed. Strong hands move you until you're lying fully on your back, legs outstretched, arms put at the sides of your body, head supported by the hard stone slab beneath you. Cold fingers trail your skin.

“I wish we could keep her,” you hear a quiet voice that barely makes it past the cotton in your head.

“I'm not risking another war with those savages just because of one puny human...” says a different voice. “We'll find another one.”

“Let's feed and get her back onto the path.”

You blink your eyes open, noticing the two men, the two vampires, standing over you, staring down at you from both sides of the coffin. Their teeth are bared, fangs glistening in the swaying candle light, and before you can do anything, they lean down, one goes straight for your neck, his pointy canines sinking deeply into your skin, and you feel it, despite your fucked-out state, you feel the cold crashing through your veins.

The same sensation happens between your legs, on one of your inner thighs as the other bites down into your soft flesh. You whimper soundlessly, throat hoarse and sore, body too weak to move against the assault. They suck your blood noisily, like the thirsty monsters they are, and you just let it happen, again, what other choice do you have? Your head is spinning as you feel the cold spread through your trembling limbs.

And the world fades...

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

End notes: The last part is here!

By the way, this is a nod towards my standalone Vampire oneshot Down the Rabbit Hole which also has dubcon elements and more than one vampire, but isn't as dark.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[pasdasin]

Wicked Game

wolverine x vampire!reader

an: set in a timeline where Logan and Alex Summers have beef since i envision this with the days of future past casting!

ch 1

warnings: mentions of blood, needles, generic doctor stuff, cussing i think, angsty lol

ur at the start -- next

~~~~~

The mansion was always having a frenzy. The rotating door of constant students, the random federal agents that never seem to fully go away, and the weird brotherhood that seemed to always succeed in attacking the school and yet never actually hurt anyone. In other words, this was the most fun you have ever had in centuries. The latest fun you ran into at the school was right now. Watching the students frantically try to finish the book report they were assigned by Storm. Listening to their banter and recollection of the book made you giggle at them. Scott Summers, the most vocal of the group, turned to look at you with a scowl on his face.

“Oh like you know anything about, uh, what are we reading?” He said turning back to his friends.

“Dracula?” You inquired, bringing the drink up to your lips.”I was there when it was written.” You smiled. “But don’t expect my help okay? I promised Storm that I wouldn’t say a word.” You walked out of room with a small smirk on your face, listening to their arguing fade.

Humming to yourself, you observed the students on your walk back to your office. As the school nurse, you knew a lot of the students on a first name basis. Many repeat visitors had graced your office with superficial wounds just so they would see you, and your favorite?

Mr. Logan Howlett, the Wolverine himself. Who was sitting on the bench in your office, awaiting your return. Your eyes locked onto his own, and your smile grew, exposing your fangs slightly.

“Well if it isn’t my most needy patient.”

“Guilty as charged,” he muttered standing to greet you. Pulling you into a hug, he squeezed you tight.

“Another day, another blood test?” You inquired, already knowing the answer. Your oldest friend nodded, removing his jacket so you could start to prep his arm for the extraction. Pulling over a stool, you sat as you wrapped the tourniquet over his bicep. “This might hurt”

“You say that everytime.” Logan responded, rolling his eyes and inhaling as the needle entered his skin. “You should train with us again” It was your turn to roll your eyes at him.

“Now you say that everytime,” he huffed at you using his words against him. “I am not who I was a hundred and what? Fifty years ago? I am a doctor, I help people… I am not a vampire.” You muttered the last bit, removing the needle from his arm and taping down gauze. Even though he didn’t need it, it helped him feel human.

You had met Logan around 1899, in the streets of London on the way to America. You both had caused some havoc and needed to escape the city until you had “died”. You both instantly bonded over your mutations and the fact that you both couldn’t die. You certainly had tried, burned at the stake, drowned, stabbed, shot in the head, even a stake to your heart. Your mutation had cursed to you continuously walk to the ends of the earth every time you needed a new identity, and somehow Logan was the same. If it weren’t for the adamantium poisoning his blood.

Holding the vial up to the light, you closed your eyes and focuses on the blood inside. Listening to the way it flowed and coagulated. Reopening your eyes, you stared at the vial until finally, you unscrewed the cap and took a sip. Closing it up, you placed it inside a centrifuge and wiped your mouth of any remains.

“Its so freaky when you do that.” Your rolled your eyes at him. “Especially when you drink it, why don’t you just take it from the source at that point”

“Firstly, I can taste the bourbon you had at lunch. Don’t you know addiction is bad for you? Secondly, I can tell that the serum has been working. I don’t taste the metal as much anymore. You should only need to get three more shots and finish one more round of antibiotics.” You informed him as he put on his jacket. “I love you Lo, but for the love of god please eat a vegetable, I can feel the fat you’ve been consuming.” He chuckled at your request and patted your head. Placing a small kiss on the top of your head, he left your office and shut the door behind him.

Sighing, you turned to start the centrifuge and rested your head on your hand. You hated how he did that. Joked with you and kissed you like you were his world. You knew you weren’t even close to being the owner of his heart. You had tried once, back before the great depression, but he wasn’t interested. He always had his eye on another.

You closed your eyes and let yourself drift away from your thoughts. Enjoying the silence you rarely got.

[bruh-anator3000]

Do u think Logan would love a vampire. I feel like thats the healthiest relationship the Wolverine and a vampire could have. Like, neither ever dies. When blood is sucked, its easily replenished. Both live a bajillion years. I feel like that would be funny. Logan isn't the oldest fart in the world anymore. His pookie bear is at least 500.

"You make me feel young," he snorts, rudely interrupting your traumatic retelling of the bubonic plague

[a-leg-without-fear]

Insomnia🩸🌧️

some lore for vampire!!!

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader🩸

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 2.0k

Warnings: angst, nightmares, PTSD struggles, cursing, alcohol mention, Logan is a Flirt (i guess?)

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You woke with a start. Heart pounding against your ribs so hard you swore they would crack. Sweat dripped down your forehead and the back of your neck. The pale blue sheets draped across your bed were tangled with every limb they could wrap around.

Wooden walls and antique furniture met your frantic gaze as your eyes darted around the room. Your room. In Charles Xavier's mansion. Where you'd lived for several decades at this point.

The concrete walls of your cell in Washington, DC were a thing of the past. Rust-colored blood stains splashed across the floors, slivers of light leaking through the metal door, spiders making a home in the upper corners. You were free of that life.

So why did you still dream of it?

The muscles in your neck groaned as you sat up against your headboard. You were tense, anxiety oozing into your blood. Your head made a thunk when you let it fall back against the headboard.

Nightmares weren't a foreign concept to you. Almost every night, your mind would be filled with your past. Flashes of pain and terror and blood. Scenes replaying over and over, night after night, tormenting you with long claws digging into your mind and scratching your sanity away.

You needed to walk. To clear your head, to calm your pulse.

Unwinding your legs from the sheets was like pulling the limbs from a nest of angry snakes. You tugged at the fabric in near desperation. It clung to your clammy skin, restricting you, restraining you, keeping you captive.

Breathe.

The memory of Charles's calming voice gave you pause. Your eyes fell closed, a deep breath filling your strained lungs. Air blew from your pursed lips as you released the tension from your shoulders.

You were safe. Nothing could hurt you here. Your friends were here, your kids were here, the life you'd built with bloodied fingernails was here. Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Charles would never let anything happen to you.

Now that the shaking in your fingers had subsided, it was quick work to pull your sheets away. The damp fabric fell away like clouds on a windy day. You pushed yourself to your feet. A tremble ran up your legs, unsteady feet finding purchase on the hardwood floor. You gave yourself a few moments to find your balance.

The cold of the untouched floor seeped into the balls of your feet, grounding you. Bringing you back to the present. You were in the mansion. You were safe. The mantra repeated in your mind as you scooped up your sweatshirt from the end of your bed.

Grey cotton filled your hands. Soft, comfortable, familiar. You wore this sweatshirt nearly every day. Finding solace among the plush fabric that shielded you from your own mind. The fleece interior tickled along your arms as you pulled it on. Like securing a piece of armor, you tugged at the zipper until you were completely encompassed.

You made for the bedroom door as you pulled up the hood. Fabric cradled your head, acting like horse blinders and centering your focus, while your fingers wrapped around the brass knob. Cold metal caressed your palm like a frozen kiss.

Another strained breath forced itself through your lips as you pulled open the door. Empty halls decorated in plush carpets, large vases, and dimmed sconces met your tired eyes. All of the wooden doors lining the hall were shut tight. Made sense, given it was the middle of the night.

Bare feet padded along the patterned carpet as you walked. You kept your focus zeroed in on the design woven into the fibers. Spiraling leaves and floating flowers chased each other across the artwork. Faded reds and golds braided amongst one another. You remembered buying this particular rug. In spring of 1983, when you and Charles had been decorating the mansion together.

The fond memory of your shopping spree with your closest friend kept your thoughts comfortable. You clung to the feeling, holding it close to your chest, as you followed the routine path to your destination. Framed paintings of stretched landscapes passed in your periphery not covered by your sweatshirt's hood.

Moonlight shone in gentle rays through the balcony's glass doors. Silver bounced off the polished hardwood and gave the surrounding space a comforting glow. You grabbed one of the iron door handles and pushed out into the night air.

It was cold. Nearly biting, the breeze blowing across your face in brief nips over your sensitive skin. Barren trees spotted along the vast lawns of the mansion. Just barely green grass flowed in an ocean of waving blades under the moonlight. The empty duck pond was still, the water calm, where it sat far off to your right.

Directly beneath the balcony was the dried-up vegetable garden Jean liked to maintain. The tomato plants had withered earlier in the month, with the green beans and peas following closely after. Winters in New York were not to be trifled with when it came to gardening.

You leaned against the metal railing. Chilled metal dug into the fabric of your sweatshirt and leeched the cold into your skin. Though, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was grounding. A reminder of where you called home now.

There was a special sort of peace to be found on this balcony. Especially since during the colder months, it often went untouched. The small table and chair off to your left remained vacant for the vast majority of fall and winter. Not many students preferred the view from the balcony over the comfort of the common areas.

Crisp air filled your lungs as you took in your first deep breath. It poured down your throat like cool water, pooling in your chest and spreading through your body. Tendrils of gentle water ran under your skin. Telling you that you were safe, that you were home, that you were loved. The night air often was the exact thing you'd needed to calm your mind.

It seemed easy to forget your past, now that the comforting chill coursed through your body. Days spent locked away from the world were distant memories. Like glimpses of another life through a thick fog. Flashes of chains and blood were tucked safely away behind a wall of moonlight.

"Mind if I join you?"

You spun on your heel to face this intrusion. This brutal slash through the comforting silence you'd so carefully cultivated.

Logan stood in the open doorway. Sweatshirt that matched yours clinging to his chest, jeans hung low on his waist, dark hair styled in those two points that reminded you of cat ears. A playful smirk tugged at his lips.

"Why?" was all that could escape your throat in your startled state. Your palms dug into the rail as you squeezed at the metal behind you.

The smirk remained firmly in place as Logan sauntered through the doorway. His hands were clutched behind his back, the top of his sweatshirt unzipped to expose his bare chest, hazel eyes catching in the moonlight as he looked at you with faint curiosity.

"Figured you could use some company, seeing's as you're out here on your own an' all," he replied easily. He kept a healthy distance from you as he approached. Long fingers trailed over the table's surface, dragging freshly-formed drops of dew in their wake.

You chuckled lightly in an attempt to mask your wariness, "Trying to make friends on your first day?"

"Something like that," he said softly, stepping up next to you near the railing. Thick arms rested on the iron as Logan mimicked your earlier position. One leg crossed over the other, chest leaning on bent elbows, half-lidded eyes surveying the landscape.

Mirroring him, you turned back to the vegetable garden. Wooden stakes jutted up from the earth like small saplings. Dry brush and long-rotted vegetables lay strewn inside the dirt beds.

An easy silence rested between you, disturbed only by the wind rustling the barren branches of nearby trees. Undeniable warmth spread from the man next to you. Like he was a furnace placed on the balcony to make anyone taking in the view nice and cozy. You could nearly feel the heat spreading from his arms and into the railing beneath you.

"You get nightmares too, huh?" Logan finally asked after several quiet minutes. It wasn't unkind, the way he phrased the question. It was more curious. An offering of relation between the two of you.

"Most nights," you answered simply. A low hum of recognition rumbled deep in his chest.

"Every night, for me. Can never remember them, though," he said with a sigh. You noticed the repetitive tap of his pointer finger on the back of his hand. Nervous tick, maybe.

"Seems we're both pretty fucked up," you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Logan barked a quiet laugh.

"You could say that again."

The kinship you felt with him was like nothing you'd ever felt before. From what Jean had discovered earlier, Logan couldn't age. Neither could you. Logan had a troubled past he couldn't fully remember. You had a troubled past, but one you remembered all too well. Logan was the product of experimentation and years of heartache. You were the result of decades under the thumb of the U.S. government, forced to torture POWs during WWII.

Maybe there was finally someone who could understand you. Understand what you've been through.

Charles did the best he could. He was the only one in the mansion anywhere near as old as you. Unfortunately, you still had 27 years on the great Professor X.

"Do they have alcohol in this place?" Logan grumbled with a tired groan. His head fell to rest on his forearms. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Not readily available to newcomers, bud. Play your cards right and you may be shown the secret stash," you said with a dramatic whisper. Logan's shoulders shook with a chuckle, shaking his head where it laid on his arms.

"And what cards would those be? We talkin' blackjack, poker, or go fish?" he replied as he straightened his back. Hazel eyes connected with your own. A spark of familiarity flashed in your mind.

Conversation flowed so damn easily with Logan. It was like talking to your reflection. A male, ruggedly handsome, 6'2" without shoes reflection. The sense of relaxation you felt around this man you'd met this morning wasn't a fact to be taken lightly.

Was this part of his mutation? Getting others to trust him? It wouldn't be too far out of left field. Hell, you could pop people like balloons with your mutation. Manipulating others' emotions wasn't that strange of an idea.

"Y'alright, doll? Suddenly got quiet," Logan asked softly, breaking you away from your swirling thoughts.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, I just... Zone out sometimes," you explained quickly in one breath.

You jumped as a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Strong, heat bleeding from the large palm into your skin. An involuntary shiver rocketed up your spine.

"Seems like I ain't the only one needing a drink," Logan said with a small smile. The effortless kinship that emanated from him was nearly intoxicating. Reeling you in on an invisible fishing line. Clouding your judgement with a haze of quickly developing trust.

You should pull away. Nothing good could come from falling into friendship this fast. Decades of being a mutant had taught you that intentions weren't always what they'd seemed. A person could be offering you a hand only to shove you into oncoming traffic.

"Know what? A drink sounds great right now," you murmured as you stepped back. Logan's hand fell from your shoulder like a dead weight. You turned on your heel to lead him inside.

Maybe if you pumped this guy full of liquor, you'd be able to tell where his head was at. Why was he being so nice to you? Especially after you'd heard how he'd acted around Scott? You hugged your rapidly chilling sweatshirt closer to your body.

Logan Howlett. "The Wolverine." You'd get to the heart of what made him tick soon enough.

and she doooooes >:) i LOVE my babies so much. exploring their relationship in its entirety is SO FUCKING FUN!!!

taglist: @ripleyswife @just-a-nightdreamer @venomqueen2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @c1eepypas1a

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[perseephoneee]

⭑ FIC RECS ⭑ part II

↳ fic recs part I ↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

it’s been a few months since I’ve shared fic recs, and tumblr won’t let me tag more people in the original post 😭

as a reminder— the kindest thing you can do for writers is reblog and comment :) it’s an exhausting job and they deserve your love

VAMPIRE DIARIES

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ KOL MIKAELSON

miscommunication @captainsophiestark

kinktobers 1 & 2 *smut* @wholoveseggs

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ KLAUS MIKAELSON

spellbound *smut* @shrenvents

OUTER BANKS

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ JJ MAYBANK

linecook!jj *smut* @princessbrunette

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ RAFE CAMERON

bittersweet *smut* @nadvs

MARVEL

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ LOGAN HOWLETT

“you’re not her” @not-neverland06

relationship hcs @corrupt-fvcker

sugar, sugar *smut* @eupheme

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ STEVE ROGERS

watchful eyes *smut* @espinosaurusrexex

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ LOKI LAUFEYSON

as the clock strikes midnight *smut* (series) @cleo-fox

TEEN WOLF

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ ISAAC LAHEY

tell me you want this @fangirl-writes

STAR TREK

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ JAMES T KIRK

aos kirk @asgards-princess-of-mischief

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ LEONARD MCCOY

pining @toboldlygohome

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ PAVEL CHEKOV

heads up @captainsophiestark

SUPERNATURAL

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ CASTIEL

noises @womanhopper

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ DEAN WINCHESTER

better than pie *smut* @hintsofhoney

[axdjelx]

First Light

Pairing: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett x Vampire!Reader

Warnings: Bit bloody (no gore just reader crying blood), angsty and hurt/comforty, fluffy, people in love (yucky i know), the word sun and sunlight might have been used a bit too much,my bad guys.

Synopsis: You get to experience the sun again,after decades, thanks to Logan.

Words: 5k-ish

Note -> This is my first piece of writing that I’ve finished so far and i’m still getting used to writing again so please be nice :D English isn’t my first language and there might be some errors even though i proofread it like 3 times ;-; Ily guys enjoy

The cabin was wrapped in shadow, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the pale, creeping glow of dawn. It was a small place—Logan's retreat from the world, a quiet hideaway—but it felt safe. Even in the darkness, you could feel the warmth of the wooden walls, the faint smell of pine and lingering smoke from the hearth. The night had always been your time, your sanctuary, and you were content in it.

You sat on the worn leather couch, legs tucked beneath you, gazing out through a sliver of space between the curtains. The sky was shifting, ever so slowly, from deep indigo to the muted gray that preceded the sunrise. Soon, the sun would rise higher, and the world would wake up. You, as usual, would retreat back into the shadows.

But tonight—or this morning—something was different.

Logan moved around the small kitchen behind you, the low scrape of a chair across the floor breaking the silence. He hadn't said much all night, but then again, Logan wasn't exactly the talkative type. You'd learned to appreciate the silence between you, the comfortable quiet that came from a kind of understanding few others would ever grasp.

A soft creak of floorboards, then the familiar weight of his presence beside you. Logan sat down on the edge of the couch, his arms resting on his knees as he leaned forward, staring into the same darkness outside the window. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. It wasn't until the first blush of pink began to smear across the horizon that he shifted, reaching into his jacket pocket with a grunt.

"Got somethin' for you," Logan muttered, his voice low and rough, but there was a softness beneath it.

You turned your head, blinking in surprise as he held out a small, wrapped package. His expression was unreadable, but you could tell from the way he looked at you—half expectant, half uncomfortable—that this wasn't just some ordinary gift. Logan wasn't the type to give presents for no reason. The gesture alone was enough to make your heart tighten a little.

"What's this?" you asked, reaching out but hesitating for a second before taking it from his hand.

He shrugged, looking away for a moment, out the window.Ears just a tad bit pinker than seconds ago. "Just... open it."

You pulled at the simple string, unwrapping the brown paper carefully, trying to keep your breaths steady. Inside, nestled against the folds of tissue, was a delicate bracelet—a thin silver band with a small, shimmering stone embedded in the center. It wasn't flashy, but the moment your fingers brushed against it, you felt the faint hum of something old, something powerful.

Your breath caught in your throat as you lifted it, the weight of the gift suddenly feeling far heavier than it appeared.

"Logan... this is—"

He cut you off, his tone gruff, but you could hear the concern beneath it. "Figured you might miss it. Bein' out there." He nodded toward the sliver of growing light outside, the dawn creeping ever closer. "This'll help. Give you a couple hours, at least. Long enough to feel it again."

You stared at the bracelet, a strange mix of disbelief and something warmer rising in your chest. You hadn't stood in the sunlight in years—centuries, even. The thought of it was almost painful, like remembering something beautiful that you'd lost long ago. And now, in your hands, was the chance to feel that warmth again.

You glanced up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. "How did you...?"

Logan's gaze shifted back to you, and for a second, his hard exterior cracked, just enough to see the thought behind his eyes. "Had some help," he said simply, before quickly adding, "Don't make a big deal out of it. Just try it."

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. The bracelet felt impossibly fragile in your hands, delicate yet humming with an ancient power you could hardly believe. It almost felt like a dream—a cruel, impossible dream. How long had it been since you even let yourself think about the sun? How many centuries had you spent shunning the light, retreating into the darkness because you had no other choice?

You didn’t realize your grip on the bracelet had tightened, your knuckles white with the strain, until Logan’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning closer, his hand hovering just above yours. His eyes were dark, searching your face for some sign of what you were feeling. “You okay?”

You blinked, and suddenly your throat felt tight. The air in the room seemed too thick, too heavy. You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of everything—of the gift, of what it meant—settled deep in your chest. The bracelet shimmered faintly in the dim light, mocking you with its promise of something you thought you’d lost forever.

The sun. You had forgotten what it felt like, forgotten the warmth, the way it could bathe the world in light and life. It had been so long since you had even dared to dream of it, and now… now here it was, in the form of this delicate piece of jewelry that Logan had somehow found for you.

A gift, yes—but it felt like more than that. It felt like a crack in the armor you’d built around yourself for so long, a reminder of everything you’d given up when you became what you were. A monster, cursed to roam the shadows forever. The thought of stepping into the sun, of feeling that warmth again, was overwhelming.

Too overwhelming.

Without warning, a hot tear slid down your cheek. You reached up to wipe it away, your fingers brushing the wetness—and then you pulled your hand back, staring in horror at the crimson smear on your fingertips. Blood.

You were crying blood.

“Shit,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as the tears continued to spill, hot and thick, rolling down your cheeks in dark, crimson trails. You tried to stop them, but the harder you fought, the more they came, until your vision blurred and your breath hitched painfully in your chest.

Logan’s hand finally found yours, his grip firm but gentle, like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you in or give you space. He didn’t say anything at first—he never did when you were like this. Logan had always known when to push and when to just be there, solid and steady. But now, his thumb brushed the back of your hand, and the simple touch was enough to send another wave of emotion crashing through you.

“I—I can’t,” you choked out, shaking your head, your voice breaking. The tears came faster now, streaking your skin with dark rivulets, each one heavier than the last. “I can’t… Logan, I don’t deserve this. I don’t… I don’t even remember what it feels like to—”

Your words caught in your throat, torn between a sob and a gasp for air. The pain of it, the grief that had been buried so deep for so long, was bubbling to the surface, raw and unbearable. The sun had always been a distant, unreachable thing, something you could never touch again. And now, it was right here, just a bracelet away. And it terrified you.

Logan didn’t speak right away. He just stayed there, his hand still holding yours, his presence a grounding force in the storm of your emotions. When he finally did speak, his voice was low, rougher than usual, but steady. “You deserve this more than anyone, darlin’. Don’t let yourself think you don’t.”

You shook your head, the blood-tears continuing to fall, each one feeling heavier than the last. “I’ve spent so long in the dark… I don’t even know who I am anymore. What if it doesn’t work? Or worse—what if it does, and I have to give it up all over again?”

Logan’s grip tightened slightly, just enough to pull your attention back to him. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and in the dim light, you could see the lines of worry etched into his face. But there was something else there too—something like hope, or maybe belief, in you.

“You won’t have to give it up,” he said, his voice firm now. “And even if it’s just for a few hours, you deserve to feel it. Just this once.”

You closed your eyes again, more tears slipping free, painting your cheeks red. His words should’ve been comforting, but all they did was rip the wound open wider. You didn’t deserve this. The sun was for people with souls, for people who hadn’t spilled blood and made monsters out of themselves.

And yet, here he was, offering it to you.

A strangled sob escaped your throat, and you brought a hand to your face, trying to wipe away the blood-tears, but it was no use. You couldn’t stop them. They flowed freely, staining your skin, your shirt, Logan’s hand.

You felt him shift beside you, and then—without a word—he pulled you gently toward him. His arms came around you, strong and unyielding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself collapse into him. Your head rested against his chest, the smell of leather and smoke enveloping you, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fall away.

Logan held you like that, his hand smoothing over your hair as the quiet sound of your blood-soaked sobs filled the room. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fix it or make it better. He just stayed, his presence a lifeline in the storm, until your tears slowed, and the weight in your chest eased, just a little.

When you finally pulled back, your face streaked with dark red, Logan’s shirt stained with your tears, you looked down at the bracelet still clutched in your hand.

There was no going back now.

With trembling fingers, you slipped it onto your wrist, the cool metal a strange contrast to the warmth flooding your chest. You stared at it for a moment, breath shallow, feeling the pulse of magic settle into your skin.

The sun was waiting.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse from crying. You reached out, hesitating before lightly touching the blood-stained fabric of his shirt. “I—your shirt, Logan, I—”

He snorted, the sound rough but filled with something softer than you’d expected. “This old thing?” He looked down at the shirt, wrinkling his nose. “Didn’t like it much anyway. Just gave me a good reason to finally get rid of it.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the casual way he dismissed it. A small, unexpected laugh bubbled up in your throat, weak but real, and for the first time in what felt like hours, something inside you lightened. You glanced back up at him, feeling the corners of your mouth twitch into the ghost of a smile.

“Yeah?” you said, trying to play along, though your voice was still shaky. “Guess I did you a favor, then.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Guess you did.”

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other—his expression softened in that rare, unguarded way he only ever seemed to show around you. It was enough to pull you out of the haze of your own self-loathing, if only a little. The mess on his shirt didn’t matter. The blood-tears didn’t matter. What mattered was the way he was looking at you, like he wasn’t going anywhere. Like he was here for you, no matter how broken or undeserving you felt.

“C’mon, bub,” Logan said suddenly, his voice gruff but gentle as he stood, pulling you up with him. His hand slid from yours to rest at the small of your back, guiding you toward the small bathroom down the hall. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Can’t have you goin’ out there lookin’ like you just came from a damn battlefield.”

You let him lead you, too tired to resist, the steady warmth of his hand grounding you as he guided you into the bathroom. The soft click of the light switch flickered the room to life, and you caught your reflection in the mirror above the sink.

It was… not pretty.

Your face was streaked with dark, crimson trails, the blood already drying in places, smeared across your cheeks and chin. The sight made you wince. You hadn’t cried blood like this in years—decades, even. The weight of it, both the physical mess and the raw emotion behind it, settled over you again, threatening to drag you back into that hollow place.

But then Logan was there, standing beside you, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Without a word, he grabbed a towel from the nearby rack and wet it under the faucet. His movements were slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to deal with your mess. And maybe he did.

You bit your lip, trying not to feel so vulnerable, so exposed under his quiet care. “Logan, I can clean up on my own. You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said simply, turning the faucet off and wringing the towel out. Then, without waiting for you to protest, he gently brought the damp cloth to your face, wiping away the blood in soft, slow strokes. His touch was surprisingly gentle, careful as he worked to clean the stains from your cheeks. “But I’m doin’ it anyway.”

The warmth of the towel felt like a small relief, easing the coolness of your skin. You stood still, letting him wipe away the evidence of your tears, your hands hanging limply at your sides. His touch was deliberate but tender, like he knew just how fragile you were in this moment, and for once, you didn’t mind being taken care of.

“Logan,” you started, your voice barely a whisper. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet yours again in the mirror. There was no judgment in his gaze, no pity, just the steady, unwavering presence that had always made you feel more grounded than you ever thought possible.

“You don’t gotta say anything,” he said quietly, resuming his careful work of wiping your face clean. His thumb brushed against your cheek as he smoothed away the last traces of blood. “I’ve got you, okay? Just take a breath.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you took a shaky breath, your chest loosening just a little with the simple, reassuring words. Logan finished wiping your face, then rinsed the towel out and wiped his own hands clean, leaving the sink splattered with faint traces of red. He glanced back at you, eyeing you with a small, satisfied nod.

“There,” he muttered, tossing the towel aside. “Good as new.”

You looked up at him, the depth of his commitment hitting you hard. You reached out, pulling him into a tight embrace, needing his strength more than ever. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his warmth enveloping you.

When you finally pulled back, there was a tenderness in his eyes that made your heart ache. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. It was a quiet gesture, filled with all the unspoken gratitude and affection you had for him. He responded gently, his hand cradling your face as he kissed you back.

Breaking the kiss, you took a deep breath, the shared moment giving you a sense of resolve. You turned back to the door, feeling a renewed sense of calm.

You managed a weak smile, wiping the last dampness from your cheeks with your own hands. “Thanks.”

Logan grunted, giving you a once-over. “Now you’re ready.” His hand found its way back to the small of your back, guiding you toward the door with purpose. “The sun’s waitin’ for you.”

The simple statement hit you harder than you expected, but it wasn’t the same crushing weight of before. This time, it felt like hope. Like a promise. You followed him, each step feeling like a strange mix of fear and anticipation, but there was comfort in the fact that Logan was with you, grounding you with his steady presence.

As you approached the door, the faint glow of early morning light spilled through the cracks in the curtains, and your heart skipped a beat. You froze, your hand hovering just above the doorknob, the reality of what you were about to do washing over you all at once.

Logan, standing just behind you, placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently.

“You’re not doin’ this alone,” he said quietly, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m right here.”

You could feel Logan just behind you, his presence strong but silent, like he was waiting for you to make the first move. His hand hadn’t left your shoulder, a subtle reminder that you weren’t doing this alone, but that didn’t stop the knot of fear twisting in your chest.

After so many years in the dark, it felt wrong to even be thinking about stepping into the light.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Logan’s voice rumbled from behind you, quiet but firm.

You nodded stiffly, but your fingers wouldn’t move. They stayed glued to the doorknob, your muscles locked in place. Your mind was reeling, every instinct screaming at you that this was wrong—that stepping into that sunlight meant danger, pain, death. Your body knew that much. It remembered centuries of fear, of hiding from the sun like it was your sworn enemy.

And yet…

The bracelet on your wrist hummed softly, its magic tingling against your skin like a quiet, steady promise. You’d be okay. You were protected. But your mind wasn’t convinced.

You squeezed your eyes shut, taking in a shaky breath. The words felt hollow in your head, but you said them anyway. “I can’t… I can’t do this, Logan.”

“You can,” Logan said, his voice steady but firm, not leaving room for argument. “You’ve fought through worse.”

You didn’t answer, your breath hitching in your throat as the light continued to filter through the door, tempting and terrifying all at once. Your hand was trembling now, your heart racing so hard you thought you might collapse.

“Look at me,” Logan’s voice was low, commanding, and you turned your head slightly, your gaze meeting his.

There was something in his eyes—something strong, unwavering—that cut through the haze of your fear, if only for a moment. He was looking at you like he’d seen every scar, every part of you that had been broken, and wasn’t flinching away. Like he believed you could do this, even if you didn’t.

“You survived a lot worse than this,” Logan said softly, his grip tightening just a little on your shoulder. “The sun’s not gonna hurt you. Not this time. You got that bracelet for a reason. And you’re strong enough to use it.”

You swallowed hard, trying to absorb his words, but the fear still sat heavy in your chest. You wanted to believe him—you wanted to believe in yourself. But it wasn’t that simple. You’d spent so long hiding from the sun, living in fear of its light. Stepping into it now, even with the protection of the bracelet, felt like willingly walking into a fire.

“I don’t…” Your voice cracked, a thin thread of panic creeping in. “What if it doesn’t work? What if—”

“It’ll work,” Logan cut you off, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. “I wouldn’t let you do this if it didn’t.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, grounding you just a little, but it wasn’t enough to shake the fear completely.

You were about to step into a part of yourself you’d locked away for centuries, into a world that felt as foreign as it did familiar.

Your throat felt tight, and the sting of tears threatened behind your eyes, but this time, you forced them back. You didn’t want to break. Not again.

Taking in a shaky breath, you turned back to the door. Your hand still rested on the knob, fingers frozen, but you felt Logan’s hand steady on your back, keeping you grounded.

“Go slow,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “No one’s rushin’ you. Just take it one step at a time.”

You nodded, though your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat. You didn’t move right away, but slowly, so slowly, you opened the door wider. The sunlight spilled in, filling the cabin with its golden light, touching your skin for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

It didn’t burn.

Your breath hitched as the warmth of the sun spread over your skin, sinking into your flesh like a forgotten memory. It wasn’t painful, wasn’t sharp like you’d imagined it would be. It was soft, gentle, and oh God, so warm.

A shuddering breath escaped you, and you stepped forward, the sunlight washing over you in full now. Your feet crossed the threshold, one tentative step at a time, until you were standing fully in the light.

The warmth enveloped you, and for the first time in centuries, you were standing in the sun.

It was overwhelming—the sensation of it, the sheer *rightness* of it—and suddenly, your chest tightened, a sob clawing its way up your throat. You tried to hold it back, but it was too much, too fast. A single tear slipped down your cheek, followed by another. You clenched your jaw, forcing the rest back, trying to keep it together, but Logan stepped up beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him too.

“Don’t hold it in,” he said, his voice low, gentle but firm. “Let it out. You’ve held on long enough.”

His words undid you.

The sob broke free, and then another, and before you knew it, you were crying again, but this time it was different. These weren’t just tears of gratitude but also of relief and joy.You were feeling emotions you haven’t felt in centuries.Emotions you thought ceased to exist long ago.You were shaking, your body trembling under the weight of everything that had built up inside you for so long.

Logan stepped in close, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest without a word. He didn’t shush you or try to make it better. He just held you, solid and steady, while you cried into him, your fingers clenching into his shirt.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve always got you.”

For the first time in centuries, you weren’t alone in the dark. You were in the sun. And you were with him.

As the last of your tears dried, you remained in Logan’s arms, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm you. The sun’s warmth, which had once seemed overwhelming, now felt like a gentle embrace. Logan’s presence was a comforting anchor, grounding you as you adjusted to this new experience.

Logan’s hands stroked your back in a reassuring manner. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Take your time,bub. We’re here, and it’s gonna be alright”

You took a deep breath, the initial shock of the sunlight beginning to fade. Logan’s support made it easier to let go of the tension and focus on the present moment. As the warmth of the sun settled around you, it started to feel more like an ally than an intruder.

After a moment, you gently pulled away from Logan, giving him a grateful nod. “I needed this,” you said, your voice steady and reflective. “I needed to really be here.”

Logan gave you a small, encouraging smile. “Go on—enjoy it.”

You pulled away from Logan with a smile so radiant it seemed to light up the entire garden. The warmth of the sun against your skin felt like a gentle affirmation of everything you’d longed for. With a deep breath, you turned to fully immerse yourself in the moment.

Barefoot, you felt the cool, dewy grass beneath your feet. The sensation was both invigorating and soothing, grounding you in the present. The fresh, crisp air filled your lungs with every breath, mingling with the delicate scent of blooming flowers and the faint mist that hung in the early morning light.

As you began to move, the sunlight played across your skin, casting a golden glow over the garden. The birds' songs created a melodic backdrop to your joyous laughter. You twirled with abandon, the fabric of your nightgown flowing around you like a light, airy cloud.

You danced across the garden, the dew-covered grass tickling your toes with each step. The feeling of freedom was overwhelming. You giggled as you ran after a butterfly, its delicate wings fluttering just out of reach.

You reached out to touch a nearby plant covered in morning dew, marveling at how the droplets glistened like tiny diamonds. Each delicate leaf and shimmering drop felt like a new discovery. Your heart swelled with happiness as you explored the small garden, your laughter ringing out freely.

Suddenly, you spotted a flash of movement in the corner of your eye. A deer, grazing gently nearby, caught your attention. Excited, you turned to Logan, eager to share the moment. “Logan, look—”

But as you began to call out to him, you noticed him standing with his back to you, wiping something from his face. Your words faltered as you saw him wiping his face profusely, the excitement fading into concern. “—a deer,” you finished softly, the enthusiasm in your voice replaced by worry.

You carefully made you way back to him,with messy hair and worried eyes.”What’s wrong?” you asked gently, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “You’re not feeling well?”

Logan quickly turned around, trying to mask his emotions. “It’s nothing. Just got something in my eye,” he said, though his voice betrayed a hint of distress.

You held him in place, your gaze full of concern. “Logan, you’re crying.”

He hesitated, then allowed you to see him more fully. You reached up, gently brushing the tear from his cheek. The touch was tender and full of unspoken care. Logan’s eyes softened, and he took a deep breath, his hands coming up to cradle your face.

As he brushed a few stray hairs from your face, his fingers lingered a moment longer, his touch both soothing and reverent. “I’m just...” he started, his voice faltering slightly. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you like this—happy, in the sunlight. It’s everything I hoped for you.”

His voice wavered, and you could see the raw emotion in his eyes. With a tender smile, he leaned in and kissed you softly, his lips lingering against yours. The kiss was a gentle promise, a shared moment of deep emotion.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of love and vulnerability. “I’m so glad to see you like this,” he murmured, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I wanted so much for you to enjoy this, to be happy.”

You gently wiped the tear from his face, your heart aching with affection. “You’ve given me so much, Logan. This is all thanks to you.”

He shook his head, his expression tender as he gazed into your eyes. “No, it’s you who made this possible. I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he steadied his breathing. The warmth of the sun and the closeness of your embrace seemed to dissolve the last of his tears. Logan kissed your forehead softly, his touch lingering as he soaked in the moment.

Together, you stood in the sunlight, embraced in each other’s arms. The sun’s rays felt like a shared promise of new beginnings, and with Logan by your side, you were ready to face whatever came next, knowing that this moment of warmth and connection was just the beginning.

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Marvel - Logan Howlett x Listener SFW Comforting Logan After A Nightmare

[M4A] [Established romantic relationship] [Reverse nightmare comfort] [Listener is a mutant, implied they have a healing factor] [Main timeline X-Men Movie Logan, takes place in the mansion, implied you're a fellow mutant and X-Men member, Jean is mentioned as being alive] [Vague enough you could imagine most Logan x canon character ships of your voice e.g. Wade, Kurt, Morph, Scott, Ororo, etc]

Based on a Patreon request, Moth asked "reverse nightmare comfort where Logan’s claws came out. he’s scared that he hurt us but were literally fine, just freaked out bc “wtf my boyfriend jumped straight out of bed” and we just comfort and hold him throughout the rest of the night (maybe he’s like “no i wanna stay up and protect you” but the second we run our nails through his hair, he’s humming and kneading at our clothes)"

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Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[eepwtf]

ᯓ★ BOT DUMP—MASSIVE ATTACK ₊ SHE WANTS REVENGE INSPIRED BOTS ᯓ★

𓇳 DISC ♯1

─── ♯1┆ANGEL ⸝⸝ DEAN WINCHESTER ❝ you are my angel , come from way above ❞

─── ♯2┆MEZZANINE ⸝⸝ DEAN WINCHESTER ❝ I could be yours , we can unwind ❞

─── ♯3┆RISINGSON ⸝⸝ DAMON SALVATORE ❝ Why you want to take me to this party and breathe. I'm dying to leave , every time we grind you know we sever lines ❞

─── ♯4┆TEARDROP ⸝⸝ DAMON SALVATORE ❝ Love, love is a verb. Love is a doing word , fearless on my breath gentle impulsion ❞

─── ♯5┆INTERTIA CREEPS ⸝⸝ ELIJAH MIKAELSON ❝ Recollect me , darling , raise me to your lips. Two undernourished egos , four rotating hips hold on to me tightly ❞

𓇳 DISC ♯2

─── ♯1┆A LITTLE BIT HARDER NOW ⸝⸝ KLAUS MIKAELSON ❝ A little bit harder now , love me like you mean it, a little bit harder now ❞

─── ♯2┆YOUR LOVE ⸝⸝ SAM WINCHESTER ❝ If i lay down all my cards for you , would you think that's wild? ❞

─── ♯3┆ALL WOUND UP ⸝⸝ BILLY BUTCHER ❝ You don't have to call , 'cause i’m all wound up. And i like to fall ❞

─── ♯4┆ANIMAL ATTRACTION ⸝⸝ LOGAN HOWLETT ❝ I can't see , it's a sexual reaction. You and me , it's animal attraction. We should be in each other's arms tonight ❞

[elflutter]

— wip wednesday!

thank you for the tag @moonlight-prose! this is from a tragedy (to love a monster), the vampire!logan oneshot i've been working on for a couple weeks! i've got a lot of work left on it, but here is a snippet i wrote this week 🤍 feel free to leave your thoughts i've been aching to share this fic! (also it's a period piece! think late victorian era)

You felt a tear trail down your cheek. Warm from the intensity of it all; of his hand resting upon yours.

“What is this?” You asked, barely more than a whisper.

James cupped your head in his hand, wiping the tear away with his thumb.

“I cannot say.” James paused, waiting for the next words to come to him. “But I feel it too. God, I feel it too.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping if you blocked it out, for just a moment, this feeling would go away. But this is what you had wanted— something to hold close against your heart, to break through the safety of monotony and convince you to spread your little wings. Through the veil of fear your soul was shining, jubilant. This man; he was the open sky. You had decided, then. That you would love him.

“Will you kiss me?”

The words had scarcely left your lips before he was on you, his free hand resting upon your waist as his mouth met yours in the gentlest caress. It would not do, it did not sate the strange flame growing in your heart; you longed for more.

Your fingers tangled in the locks of his hair as you deepened the kiss, unsure of how, exactly, this was meant to go. Your body was uncertain, but your heart beat true, as you threw yourself against him.

You were Eve and the soft plush of lips against yours was the forbidden fruit. The man before you, temptation incarnate. If this was Eden, you hoped to never leave. The scruff of his beard scratched at your skin. The scent of cedar and cigar-smoke enveloped you in this liminality between divinity and sin.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, holding onto him like a raft amidst roiling waves, he nipped at your bottom lip. The slight dig of his canines into the softness there; an intoxicating sting. His calloused palm still cradling the base of your skull, an aching tenderness in the gesture. As if it had always been this way; your bodies pressed together, bathed in the silvery dew of starlight, with only the moon as your witness.

The door closed behind you with a soft thud as you pulled James into your bedchamber, the act only sweeter in its forbiddance. You took him into your bed, limbs tangled in honeyed ecstasy. You kissed him until your lips were raw from it. Even then, his mouth moved against yours with such hunger; it was as if he meant to devour them until the skin peeled off entirely. Until only bones were left behind.

That was you first taste of his love. Of his destruction.

im feral about this fic 24/7 btw teehee

no pressure tags! @sceletaflores @avocado-writing @silverskyeline @superhoeva @eupheme @joelsgoldrush and anyone else who'd like to!

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

I literally LOVE vampire reader. How would Logan react to the reader hanging upside down like a bat and their fangs are out???? (I really really love the concept of this idea msljxucjd AHHHHHHHH)

As your friendship grew, Logan believed he was finally getting used to your mutations. Throughout the many years he's lived, he has had many different experiences with vampire, there was never a relationship that blossomed with any of them, but fuck did he want one to grow with you.

He overheard you talking to Charles about needing the next week off, and he couldn't help but get curious. All he knew was that you requested a few extra blood bags and to be completely left alone until you came back.

Logan couldn't help himself, and he let his curiosity lead him to Charles to ask questions, but instead of answers he was given a lecture over easdropping, so he went to find you. When he did find you, you just gave him a soft smile and a shake of your head, "don't worry about it Wolvie, I just need to take care of somethings I'll be back for our plans Saturday."

Logan was a bit upset over the fact that you wouldn't tell him what you were having to do. Maybe he could help? He had witnessed you using your strength. He watched you break Colossus's hand. He had witnessed your help during sleepless nights. He just wanted to help you for once.

.

.

He didn't mean to intrude. He didn't mean to even find you! He had honestly forgotten all about you disappearing for the week. Well, he didn't forget he really was missing you, and this past week was shit for him, so he really could've used some time with you. It physically made his heart ache when he thought about how strong his feelings for you were. It's been so long since he cared about someone the way he cared about you, he didn't want to fuck things up but it was killing him to not be near you. Maybe I should just tell them?

He had been looking for his leather jacket when he remembered that he let you have it during the last outing the team had. "Dammit," he mumbles as he looks at your bedroom door, remembering how pretty you looked in his jacket. Your voice echoed through his head, reminding him that you asked to be completely alone for the week... but he'd be so quick! He just needed to grab his jacket. How long would that take? You wouldn't even know he ever intruded. He listened closely through your door, and he didn't hear any motion within the room. Maybe he had missed you? He could've sworn you told Charles you'd be in your room for the week. He shrugged and walked into your room to grab what he needed, but before he could, a soft gasp left his lips before he could hold it back.

He was met with you resting, hanging upside from your ceiling. Your mouth was open just enough for your fangs to glisten from the small ray of light coming from the hall now that the door was open. He was completely taken back from what he was seeing. Not only was he confused about you sleeping; I could've sworn they said they don't sleep? But you were the most beautiful sight he's ever seen in his long life. Logan took a step back and really took in your figure. "Fuckin' beautiful..." He mumbled to himself in complete awe. Before he could stop himself, his finger graced your cold cheek, and he allowed himself to prick his finger upon your fang.

Your eyes fluttered open as soon as you smelt blood. "Lo?" You asked groggy, your voice still completely filled with sleep. He says your eye colors change between your normal color and a bright red. You licked your teeth and groaned. "What are you? Did I bite you? My Gods, your blood tastes so sweet, " you whined, slightly confused. Logan blushed slightly, realizing he had just made you taste his blood. "I um... your fangs... they're, you're beautiful," He turned a brighter shade of red as he stumbled over his words.

You jumped down and stretched, "How long have you been in here? Aren't you old enough to know it's rude to stare?" You teasingly say as you grab one of the blood bags Charles provided for you. Logan cringed slightly, knowing he'd been caught, "I thought you don't sleep. Aren't you old enough to know it's rude to lie, sweetheart?" He smirked, feeling himself relax as he heard your laugh, "I don't need to sleep every night, just during the full moon" you stated while pointing towards your calendar, "it was this past week, what did you miss me or something?" You asked, winking at him. You felt a sense of pride start to form in your chest as you watched him blush again.

"You have no idea darlin', no fuckin idea"

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

Lmk if you'd like to be tagged in future Logan stuff! Request are open!!

[tourturestarradio]

𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

“𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦. 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Prompt: Vampire reader x Wolverine/Logan Howlet, (platonically)

Warnings: teenage reader, kinda mean Logan

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

Water dripped down onto your body, the seemingly never ending rain slapped against the ground. You shivered grabbing onto the cold metal bars of a gate looking through the bars you saw a house. A very, very big house.

Looking up you jumped over the fence, going into a bush. You walked closer to the  lit house, going up to a window you spotted someone walking through one of the rooms. Ducking your head you waited a few seconds before lifting your head the darkness of the night hid you as you carefully sliding open the window. 

Getting inside you looked around cautiously, taking a few steps you froze when you felt your stomach rumble placing a hand on your stomach you ran to find something to fill your stomach. 

Hearing chatter you stopped peeking around the corner seeing a man with odd looking glasses, you grew your sharp nails out ready to pounce on him but stopped when you felt the floor creek beneath you. You quickly pressed your back against the wall hearing his footsteps coming close to you, you took off.

The man looked around the corner “hm?” He felt an odd presence, spotting the open window he walked over to it closing it “who left that…open…?” He saw bare footprints and water droplets on the floor he followed them but they stopped right at the carpet that was on the floor. 

“Shit..” 

You felt that annoying feeling your stomach again as you roamed through the seemingly endless hallways, you looked around seeing the pictures up on the wall so many different people and things you never seen before. 

You reached to touch it but had to hurry away due to a door opening a little girl stepped out walking down the hall, you tucked yourself away in the shadows watching her walk past until she stopped slowly turning her head she saw you. 

You hissed at her your fangs sticking out the low glow of the moonlight reflecting in your dilated pupils. The little girl screamed and ran away you scrambled away as well running through the first door you saw. 

Slamming it shut you observed the room it was spacious like the rest of the house. But you smelled something delicious all around you, going over to the freezing box you opened it seeing food. 

Staring at it you grabbed everything that looked good and started eating it grabbing a large drink that looked eerily similar to the drink you’ve been taught not to drink.

 Grabbing it you opened it gulping back the bitter yet sweet drink, going over to the cabinets you pulled out the boxes full of more food and stuffed your hand inside the bag shoving the food into your mouth. 

Jean had her arms folded over her chest “so you think someone snuck inside?” Scott nodded his head, Ororo sighed “it could be a child” Logan rolled his eyes “or a threat.” That’s when they heard a scream. 

The four rushed into action looking for the source of the scream, Storm spotted the little girl “hey hey calm down it’s okay, what’s the matter?” She asked kneeling down to the girls height, the girl rubbed her eyes “m-monster! Big teeth…and e-eyes!” Hugging Storm the little girl sobbed into her shoulder. 

“Guys split up and look for this “monster” before they hurt someone.” Ororo commanded, the others nodded splitting up and rushing to find whoever or whatever was roaming the house. 

Ororo picked up the girl “okay let’s get you back to bed.” 

You reached into the box again not seeing anymore food you tossed the box aside getting up you grabbed another piece of food before plopping back down on the ground munching on the food. 

But no matter how much you are you still felt hungry craving something else but everything taste so good, nothing like you ever tasted. Picking up a round orange ball you examined it before taking a bit but a disgusting taste flooded your mouth. 

Spitting out the bite you just took you tossed away the bitter fruit. Grabbing something else you looked at the bright red fruit cautiously taking a bite you liked the taste. Taking another bite you got up to get another drink when you heard the door open.

Dropping the fruit you turned around your heart pounding as you looked at the man who stood in the doorway looking at the mess surrounding you “what the fuck…” you were frozen in place. 

His eyes drifted to your trembling figure, without warning he rushed towards you, you hissed running to the far end of the room grabbing whatever was closest to you and tossing it at him. 

You grew your nails long again the man looked you before blade shot out of his knuckles, “I got tricks to, you picked the wrong place to break into” he rushed at you slicing your side adding onto the many other cuts and bruises you already had. 

You sliced the man’s face jumping into his back scratching at his flesh he threw himself back onto a wall slamming you into it however you still stayed stuck onto him slicing his throat you stabbed him over and over smelling something sweet oozing out of his wounds.

Licking your fingers the taste was so delicious you continued to stab into him and licking your fingers and hands after. That was nice until he stabbed into your side knocking you off of him “fuck!” Even though his wounds were healing it still hurt like a bitch. 

Jean, Scott, and Ororo heard all the commotion coming from the kitchen and rushed to the area busting into the room they saw the mess you made and Logan looking at something in the corner. 

They all looked at want Logan was glaring and saw a frightened looking teen. Scott ready’ed his laser but Ororo stopped him “wait, that looks like a child” Logan scoffed “that fuckin kid almost ripped my face off” Ororo slowly approached you. 

You back further into the corner hissing at her, still she slowly came closer “it’s okay no one’s going to hurt you��� she spoke in a calm tone, your eyes darted from her to Logan “he was just protecting himself” you shook your head.

Ororo looked back at Logan “you didn’t attack them first did you?” He looked away, she huffed and looked back at you “I’m sorry for his behavior, he won’t do it again unless he needs to.” She crouched down to “did you make this mess?” She asked. 

You looked away slowly nodding your head “you were hungry?” You nodded again “okay…what happened here?” She reached for your bruised limbs but you hissed at her about to scratch her but you couldn’t move you were stuck in place. 

Looking around you saw another woman holding her hand out “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you….did someone do this to you?” She asked.

Jean carefully let you go as you nodded “alright…I’m sorry that happened to you. This is a safe space for mutants such as yourself…we’ll help you” Logan shook his head “I ain’t helping shit. You see what they did to the place and me?” Ororo stood up turning to face him “they were frightened and plus you attacked them first.” 

Logan rolled his eyes and walked out grumbling under his breath. Ororo sighed her eyes caught how you visibly relaxed seeing him leave. She reached her hand out “we can help you, but that’s only if you let us” you looked at the pretty woman then at the other two hesitantly you reached out to grab her hand but you felt yourself get light headed before collapsing on the ground everything going black.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: this doesn’t end here stay turned for Part 2!!

[dorkszn]

thinking of early 1900s logan with tiana-coded reader or louis de pointe de lac-coded reader…

[pasdasin]

Wicked Game

wolverine x vampire!reader

an: can u guys tell im not working rn with the amount uploading! also currently working on ch 4! if you guys have any ideas feel free to send me stuff!! i <3 vampire!reader and wanna write more about her :3... also sorry if pacing is weird lol

ch 3

warnings: SMUT!!! fingering, erotic blood drinking, angst lol, prob like cussing lol, im sure there is more so just be warned in general, mdni lol

previous -- next

~~~~~

The proposition weighed heavily on your mind. A chance to return where it all started? You couldn’t stomach the thought. You’d have to ask Logan what he thought. He always knew what to say. You couldn’t dwell on it now, another task was at hand. You smoothed out your denim skirt for the millionth time and stared at your reflection. Nothing seemed appropriate enough. Nothing seemed right when it came to talking about your past. Two hundred and seventy-five years old and this was most nerve racking thing you’ve ever done.

talk in front of teenagers. 

Sighing you turned back to your closest when the door of your room slowly opened.

“y/n? Are you ready yet? My class is waiting” Storm entered your room. “Damn you look good! Honestly expected a full Bela Lugosi get up.”

“Very funny, but I am not a vampire.” You said, turning to her. 

“Okay yeah, and I don’t control the weather.” She snickered at you. She held out her hand and you grabbed it tightly, allowing yourself to be pulled through the halls of the mansion as the two of you giggled and talked friday night plans. 

The two of you reached her classroom and it seemed fuller than normal. You glanced around the room and noticed Logan standing near one of the walls closer to where you’d be presenting. You shot him a smile smile and he nodded back at you, causing your heart to race. You approached the desk at the front of the room and took a deep breath in. You could not only hear your heart pumping, but also every single person in that room. 

Turning around you smiled at everyone and sat sheepishly on the desk. You felt Logan’s eyes on you as you listened to Storm start her lecture. You glanced towards him and watched as he sent you a silent message.

You’ll be okay bub. I’m right here.

You turned back to the class and scanned the crowd. It seemed as though every single person was there, even though it was physically impossible. Your eyes zeroed in on Scott and Alex. Alex. Your mind wandered back to what Charles asked of you the previous night.

“I know you don’t do missions since the incident, but you could really benefit Alex.”

“I dedicated my life to medicine, and helping others. I cannot just leave that.”

“Just think about it okay? Its London afterall. Don’t think I don’t know about what the two of you did there”

You quickly glanced away and turned your full attention back to Storm. She was just about finished with her recap of the lesson plan. Her eyes met yours and she winked down at you. 

“Now that we have finished Dracula, I thought as a treat instead of a movie, we could hear about the real events from the person who inspired the book herself. This is y/n, your school nurse.” A small round of applause broke out as you stood up from the desk.

“Hi everyone! So yes I inspired Dracula, so please ask me any questions.” Immediately questions rang out towards you. Are you a vampire? How come you don’t sparkle? I thought vampires drink blood!

Typical questions that you usually got from new students that visited your office. You quickly answered them without even thinking about it. Alex raised his hand jokingly before asking you the question you dreaded the most.

“How exactly did you inspire the book?” You paused, silently remembering the events of the night. You felt a knot in your throat before you began.

“In 1895, I met Bram Stoker in a pub. He was strange but endearing. A flirt really, and I knew I was done for. In 1896 I confessed to him my mutation and how at that point I was twenty-five for fifty years at that point. He didn’t believe me of course and when I showed him my true nature, the book was born.” You paused, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “The dedication was for me, and one of the brides had my name at the time and my description. I left Ireland and headed for London after the town found out about it. That’s actually where I met Logan.” 

The rest of the class period was full of laughter and more questions about your life in general, but you easily avoided those. As your presentation ended, you thanked Storm for the chance she gave you and promised to get drinks in the future. She walked away from you as Logan approached, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

“Good job bub. I knew you could do it.” You pushed his arm jokingly as the two of you started to walk out of the room, as Alex walked up to the two of you. Logan’s grip on your waist tightened.

“To my ever lasting beauty, an ageless angel, my queen of the dark. A book for your life. Wow you really made an impression on this dude. I didn’t realize you only dated what? Tall, dark and handsome. I’ll dye my hair ya know”

“Watch it Alex” Logan muttered, his claws starting to breach his knuckles.

“Woah big guy, I am just teasin. Anyways, y/n I heard the professor talked to you about Europe. What did ya think?” You made a face as you heard Logan’s blood race faster.

“I’m not too sure yet. I am still thinking about everything.” He nodded at your words before wishing you well and ignoring Logan. The two of you watched him walk away. 

“What the hell is he talking about?” Logan looked down at you, his face mixing into anger and confusion. 

“Lets go to my room okay?”

___

“What the hell do you mean a mission to London? And with him!” Logan snarled at you. You stared him down, not afraid of what he would do to you. 

“Calm down Logan! Its not a big deal I haven’t even decided yet!”

“Yeah I’m deciding for you. NO” He paced the left side of the bed as he muttered to himself.

“You don’t control me! I am my own person and I can’t die! Why don’t you trust me?” You felt your fangs push downwards in anger. If you weren’t careful you weren’t sure what would happen. 

“I don’t trust him. You won’t go and thats final.” His claws started to extend as he turned towards you. Fuck it.

The two of you lunged at each other and embraced as a tangle of limbs. Your lips crashed onto every piece of skin it met before you finally met his lips. He held you close to his chest and he messily made out with you, somehow managing to rip off your shirt, leaving in just the skirt and bra. His breath reeked of alcohol and his cologne filled your nose. The tobacco residue from an earlier cigar danced on his tongue as you deepened the kiss. You turned to straddle his lap, you pushed him down on the bed and, without thinking, you leaned down and sunk your fangs into his neck.

The warmth of his blood entered your mouth and the taste was euphoric. You continued your frenzy as you started to grind down on his growing erection. He groaned and panted as you nuzzled deeper into his vein. Your hot breath created a layer of pleasure to the holes in his neck and you pushed down harder on his clothed cock. 

“Please, fuck, don’t stop.” He choked out, moaning the last word. You didn’t think you could if you even wanted too. The taste of his blood made you whine in his ears as you picked up the pace of your hips, desperate for friction. His hand snaked down to your pussy, fingers slipping into your underwear and onto your clit. Your fangs sunk in deeper as he rubbed circles. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” He picked up the pace making you squeal from pleasure.

“Pl-ee-se-” You couldn’t think. The friction, his fingers, his blood. Without warning, you came hard on his fingers, allowing yourself to get lost in the heat of the moment.

Eyes half lidded you removed your fang from his neck and you looked down at the mess created. Blood stained the sheets, pillows, his shirt, and most likely everything else on the bed. Your mouth and neck was covered in a sheer layer of his blood. 

You snapped back to reality and realized what you had done. 

“Logan I’m- I can’t. I have to go.” Quickly you threw on a random shirt and left as quickly as you came, leaving Logan in the mess.

His neck already healing, his lifted his pants to stare at the mess left. Cuming in his pants was so middle school, but it wouldn’t be the first time this happened. Before being forced into the weapon x program, you fed on him regularly. Back then, your insatiable bloodlust wasn’t controlled, and he loved it. 

Trapped in the trance of euphoria, he didn’t realize you had gone. Slowly succumbing to sleep, Logan wouldn’t realize until the morning that you had gone. He ran through the mansion praying you’d still be in the confines of the walls. It was too late when he finally reached you. 

Watching as you left with Alex Summers to a mission to Europe. 

~~~~~

tag list: @captain039 @twinky-wink @fuckmachine42069 @honeybeedrabble

an: omg the drama!! also thank yall so much for ur support :3