#sixties memories

[brittsekland]

Two young women on a Florida Vacation, October 1968.

[javelinbk]

Brian Epstein watches The Beatles performing at the Washington Coliseum, 11th February 1964

[mantisgodsdomain]

You may say to yourself things such as "wow, mantis god, you seem really behind for bugtober this year", and you would be right, but what you can't see behind the scenes is that we are actually being surprisingly productive in the hours of the day that are not dedicated to school, it's just that some months ago we happen to have thought to ourself "well, we enjoy learning things, so maybe we should take a hack at school since the grant is decent, get some actual certification on our resume so we can get a real job" and then forgot that the reason we don't already have official certification is because formal schooling historically has had worse effects on our overall mental health than almost literally anything else in our life, and now that's eating 4-6 hours of our life per day with an extra few hours of recovery after which makes it unfortunately difficult to work on art.

[batsplat]

watched donington 2005 bc of your rec and loved it! do you have any more recs for interesting (and/or messy) wet races?

sure do! we're going to take a broad definition of 'wet' race here... there's also been some major rule changes this century, like bike swaps didn't used to be a thing - plus I'm not particularly inclined to check how each race was actually categorised. so for our purposes here, any race where I remember the track being wet playing a significant role counts

in honour of being incredibly inconsistent with the asterisk system, this time I've added * or ** by how much of a definite recommend it is as a wet race (also to be complete I'll include donington '05)

donington 2000*: valentino's first premier class win and a very valentino way to do it. absolute horror show of a start that drops him to thirteenth on lap one, and he picks his way through from there on the damp track. lovely little comeback ride as they wobble around - crucially at a time when vale did not have a good reputation as a wet weather racer. fun 3-way fight for the win

suzuka 2002**: the first ever motogp race in nasty nasty conditions, and features an unexpected starring performance from japanese wild card rider akira ryo who was very familiar with the track and where all the puddles were. valentino sticks behind him for much of this race, watching and learning. showcases valentino's approach rather nicely

le mans 2003: this one isn't wet for most of the race, and when it starts raining the race is interrupted. that being said, the sete/valentino duel in slippery conditions after the race resumes is fun and fiddly enough to justify its inclusion. banger of a last lap

mugello 2004: same as above - interrupted a few laps before the end for rain. the conditions are very uncertain when they resume, and the last few laps involves a multi-rider scrap between riders on slicks on a track that is very much not dry. fantastic race

shanghai 2005: conditions proper nasty start to finish, crazy amounts of spray. vale does the thing where he gives himself a bit of work to do and is 6th at some point during the first lap, though he's soon up to 2nd and goes about hunting down kenny roberts jr. in the end he disappears out front, so it's up to everyone else to make it exciting (mostly by struggling to stay on track)

donington 2005**: this one's a go-to pick for a reason. horrendous conditions, high attrition rate, lairy saves, a tense fight for the lead before valentino eventually feels comfortable enough to pull a painful margin on the field. classic race all round

phillip island 2006*: first ever bike swap race! late in the season so it's all very dramatic with the title fight - you've still got several different contenders at this stage with constantly changing fortunes. drama up and down the field until the very very end

donington 2007**: proper wet race and exactly what you want from these things, with the run order constantly chopping and changing. the winning rider spends a lot of time in a lot of different positions, great ride to fight his way through

sachsenring 2008: dani's leading the championship, vale crashed the last time out at assen before recovering to 11th, casey's won the last two races... all three of them have very different races in the full wet conditions. incidentally the last race before laguna

indy 2008*: proper fun scrap in appalling conditions! the usual suspects and also some more unusual suspects (that year anyway) scrapping it out at the sharp end of the race - and they really are going for it given the conditions. once stopped, there isn't a restart, though there's still that fun bit where casey joins valentino to (presumably) tell ezpeleta that they are not going back out there

le mans 2009*: my pitch for this one is that it has a claim to being the most embarrassing race of valentino's career. everything that could possibly go wrong did go wrong. I laugh every time I think about this race, but I suppose you have to admire his perseverance

mugello 2009*: yeah, this one's fun! bike swap race right after le mans so Certain Riders are playing it a bit safe... some great tussling and mixing it up and odd run orders in this one, just what you're looking for. incidentally the last race before catalunya

donington 2009*: another one for people who sometimes want to watch some very talented athletes embarrass themselves. casey has the mystery illness excuse for making a ridiculous tyre choice, but the others? lemme not speak. great chaotic shenanigans

sepang 2009: valentino's first matchpoint race, but he has a horrendous first lap (after qualifying well for once) that makes it look like the championship might not be quite done yet. great race out front from casey, though a lot of this one is about tracking vale and jorge's progress through the field. good fun!

le mans 2011*: plenty of talking points post-race, with some riders perhaps not balancing risk/reward quite right on the slippery track. a fierce fight for the final two podium spots behind casey

silverstone 2011*: the signature casey wet weather performance, and it's just too good from him to be exciting out front. still, the conditions are nasty enough there's plenty of peril behind - which two riders in particular discover while attempting to take on dovi

valencia 2011*: unpleasant first corner pile-up, but it's a nice little race from there in tricky conditions that get worse at the end. an extended dovi/dani duel that has real stakes for championship standings and pride. also you get a really dramatic ending out front, kinda out of nowhere? worth sticking with this one

le mans 2012*: jorge's in that stage of his career where he's a decent wet weather racer, and he very much disappears out front as battle rages behind. valentino fights with casey, fights with dovi/cal, fights with casey again... the last vale/casey duel featuring a last lap overtake

assen 2014: wet to dry bike swap, with more rain threatening. it features the first real dovi/marc scrap (doesn't last long, but they have a 2nd go at it as marc hunts dovi down). plus there's also an impressive comeback ride from vale after a poor tyre choice

aragon 2014: rather a nasty valentino crash close to the start - but once you're through that, you're in for quite a silly one. let's just say the dominant rider that year does not have a particularly dignified day in the office. dry to wet bike swap race, which some perhaps grasped a little too late

silverstone 2015**: first race in which valentino lost the championship lead, but this is the bounce back race in the soaking wet. marc puts a lot of pressure on valentino here, it's 2015, what more do you want? late pressure from other riders too, a signature valentino wet weather ride

misano 2015*: big twists, big turns, massive title fight implications. a flag-to-flag race where both title contenders perhaps don't get it quite right... a lot of chaos where bike swap timing makes all the difference. a truly excellent performance from the winner

sachsenring 2016: no prizes for guessing who won this one, but way more jeopardy than the average visit to the circuit. marc just got these flag-to-flags bang on so often, and it's fun watching him secure what at one stage looked like rather an unlikely victory

brno 2016**: if you can, go into this one without being spoiler-ed, because I promise you that you will not be able to guess the podium combination after the first few laps. a lot of this race ends up being about tyre choice. a slow burn but a goody

misano 2017**: in that stretch of 2017 where every race is a Big Title Fight Race, which makes it so fun 2017 had so many of those in the wet. a fun race throughout, but the last lap is particularly daring and memorable. a signature marc performance

motegi 2017**: a race that gradually builds to a dovi/marc duel - and the additional jeopardy added by the conditions makes it something special. one hell of a last lap

sepang 2017**: first match point race, just to add a little extra drama to proceedings. a lot of tense wobbling about as dovi attempts to navigate his way back to the lead of the race - including past his rather stubborn teammate. excellent performance under high pressure from dovi

valencia 2018*: the conditions get so poor you do get several crashes that just make for unpleasant viewing... when they finally red flag it, the field is severely depleted, then it's broadly more of the same. defo a good race if 'chaos' is what you're looking for

le mans 2020*: entire race on wet track. I don't remember the 1st half of this being all that exciting, but once it gets going it's just SUCH dumb chaos, in a title fight that's all about dumb chaos

austria 2021**: a race that will be remembered more than anything because of the crazy way in which it was won. the whole race is fun, but the last few laps are kinda unforgettable

motegi 2023*: quite fun to have a flag-to-flag this late in the championship fight! the title contenders feature heavily in this one and there's enough shake-ups in the order to keep things interesting. psa: this race doesn't get restarted. pretty short

honourable mentions: valencia 2001, estoril 2002, jerez 2004, estoril 2005, le mans 2007, assen 2011, phillip island 2011, assen 2016, le mans 2021, argentina 2023

[detroitlib]

Nighttime view of 1962 AMC Rambler sedans parked in front of McGregor Memorial Conference Center at Wayne State University. Label on sleeve: "AMC Rambler full line models, 1962."

Mickey McGuire and Jim Northmore Boulevard Photographic Collection

Courtesy of the National Automotive History Collection, Detroit Public Library

[unstablerk800]

|| Sixty was a bit tense about having to watch a movie with mc (human). Mc fell asleep on his shoulder. It was kinda cute, while he was tense and unsure about the entire thing. It was surreal for him. Usual "I wasn't programmed for this."

Then, after some time, it turned out he killed 51 and took over every segment of his life because the android revolution got out of control, and he didn't know what to do. Amanda abandoned him for failing, but he did not turn deviant. So he just. Stole 51's life and tried his best to blend in.

He played along with everything, from working with Hank at the DPD to being mc's partner. When mc finally caught up and learned this, of course they freaked the fuck out. But 51 can't be brought back. He's gone. And since Sixty had to download 51's memories upon his activation, the objective of ''must protect mc at all costs'' got stuck in his system. He can't leave. The objective can't be overwritten/completed as long as mc lives. Sixty just feels like they need constant protection from possible threats.

And mc misses their Connor, but Sixty has his face and voice, and they can't just tell him to leave because they know he wouldn't. He literally can't. They understand that this mission got stuck. They can't do anything but accept that the android who killed the one they loved is set out to protect them. They understand it's not his fault but the grief the pain the angst and AAAAAA-

[schirs77]

Here is the story in honor of Mister Rogers

Beth Usher was a normal 5-year-old girl when she had her first seizure. After that, she had more and more seizures, and doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong. The left hemisphere of Beth's brain was slowly shrinking, and she was losing function in the right side of her body. She couldn't go to school, eat without help, or be alone.

Beth's family was desperate to find answers, but the doctors couldn't help them. They took Beth from doctor to doctor, but no one could figure out what was wrong. Beth's seizures got progressively worse, until she was having 100 a day.

During this time, Beth found comfort in watching Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. She never had a seizure during the show, and she found Mr. Rogers' voice to be calming and reassuring. He was a friend to her when she had no other friends. Beth would talk to the screen at the end of each episode, telling Mr. Rogers that she loved him.

After waiting and waiting for a diagnosis, “𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘪𝘯-𝘵𝘦𝘯-𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵,” said Kathy.

It was Rasmussen’s encephalitis, a rare inflammatory neurological disease that only affects one hemisphere of the brain, and while there’s still no known cure, Dr. Ben Carson had performed successful surgeries on a few patients in the late 1980's, where they would remove half of the patient's brain that was affected by the disease.

Beth's parents decided to go through with the surgery, but were naturally very worried, so they decided to contact the one person who provided their daughter with relief and happiness throughout this whole ordeal.

She called the Mister Rogers Neighborhood studio and spoke with the secretary, explaining the situation and asked if they could get a signed copy of Mr. Rogers’ picture for her daughter.

Less than an hour later, the secretary called back with a special message.

“‘𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 7? 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘩,’” the secretary told Kathy. “𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘩, ‘𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘩… 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.’”

Beth was ecstatic, her parents left their daughter in the kitchen, and hovered closely in the hallway, crying as they listened to the conversation.

“𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘥. 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘦,” said Beth. “𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥.”

Beth spent over one hour on the phone talking with not just Fred Rogers, but with King Friday, Queen Sara, Lady Elaine, and finally Daniel Tiger, who ended the conversation, telling Beth that he loved her, and everything was going to be okay.

Before her surgery, a giant box of cassette tapes and Mister Rogers Neighborhood memorabilia arrived for Beth, which helped calm her.

On February 4, 1987, Beth underwent a 12-hour procedure to remove the left hemisphere of her brain, and while things initially seemed fine, she had a turn for the worse and slipped into a coma.

Days turned into weeks, and eventually months, and her friend Mister Rogers grew more and more concerned.

“𝘔𝘳. 𝘙𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦,” said Beth. “𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱.”

𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗥𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁...

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝗻𝗼 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀.

Mister Rogers flew from Pittsburgh to Baltimore, where a friend picked him up and drove him to John Hopkins Hospital where he sat beside Beth in her comatose state.

As her family and nurses stood in the doorway watching, Mister Rogers removed his puppets from his case.

“𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸,” said her mom, Kathy.

And then left all his puppets for Beth so that she wouldn't feel alone when she awoke.

And she did come out of her comatose state shortly after his visit.

Upon learning about her reawakening when he called that day to checkup on her, Mister Rogers exclaimed, "𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘥".

But their friendship didn't end there, they kept in touch as pen pals, and he always made sure to call Beth on her birthday, and when her grandparents passed away, Mister Rogers was there too, listening to her over the phone as she mourned their loss, and Beth even helped him write his commencement address for the University of Connecticut.

The world mourned the loss of Mister Rogers when he passed away in 2003, it was especially hard on Beth and her family, who he had helped so much during one of the toughest times in their life.

“𝘞𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘺, ‘𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰?’” said Kathy.

The answer is simple: 𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱.

[incenseburnerdreams]

Sixty, holding a taser: I thought when Connor said Gavin was an asshole he was joking, and when he also said to be careful with him because he was giving him trouble he was saying he was dangerous.

Sixty, looking down at the unconscious detective: Turns out no matter who you are a taser will make you more pleasant.

Nines: ...

Sixty: Maybe don't tell Connor. Please.

[313-248-317-87]

OH I AM WILLING TO PROVE U WRONG, WITHOUT THE ANONYMITY THIS TIME. You aren’t superior- atleast with the way you need to calibrate your interactions. Sixty n Connor are WAYY more smooth than you Nines. Also by the way your getting you ass best in the hottest poll I think you should be quiet, the majority loves Con.

It’s apparent that not all humans have refined taste. Enjoy your inferior models.

[psilactis]

I just watched the first Furiosa trailer and.... I didn't like it

[javelinbk]

17th June 1963. After recording their fourth episode of ‘Pop Go The Beatles’, John, George and Ringo give Paul ‘the bumps’ on the eve of his 21st birthday.

Delaware Road, London, 17th June 1963. Photographs by Dezo Hoffman.

[a110catsinmyfamily]

My grandpa is the tech guy in my family.

He worked as an airplane mechanic when he was younger and also bounced around between some different tech firms and ended up being the only guy who could repair several very complicated big machines that different firms and factories used all over the world, because he took the schematics with him when he left a firm that was going out of business. (He was also very good at repairing them).

His hobby is model trains and just tech in general. And he also has a little tech workspace in the back room of the garage where he fiddles with a bunch of stuff.

He taught me a bunch of stuff when I was younger about tech and wires and such. And he has helped me with several of my technology projects in high school too.

We go to him and ask if he can repair our broken technology like our oven, washing machine, computers and other appliances, and he almost always fixes them.

He once fixed a computer where the shell? Casing? Was shattered and it couldn’t close and then he just had it at his house for a few days and came back with a working closeable computer.

All in all he is amazing and very nice too

Me: “How can I help you today, ma'am?” Client: “Is e-mail internet”? Me: “I beg your pardon?” Client: “Is e-mail on the internet? I have no internet, can I still read my e-mail?” Me: “Well yes, you must be able to get online to view your e-mail.” Client: “Oh, dear. I can’t see my e-mail.” Me: “Well, let’s see. Can you open up Internet Explorer for me and tell me what you see?” Client: “Open what?” Me: “Your browser, can you open up your browser?” Client: “My…my…?” Me: “What you click on when you want to browse the internet?” Client: “I don’t use anything, I just turn my computer on, and it’s there.” Me: “Okay. Do you see the little blue ‘e’ icon on your desktop?” Client: “You mean I have to start writing letters again?” Me: “I’m…what, I’m sorry?” Client: “I don’t have any pens at my desk. I just want my e-mail again.” Me: “No, ma'am, your desktop, on your computer screen. Can you click on the little blue ‘e’ on your computer screen for me?” Client: “Oh, this is too much work. I’m too upset. Just send me my e-mail. Can’t you send me my e-mail?” Me: “We…okay, ma'am. Can you tell me what color the lights are on your router right now?” Client: “My what?” Me: “The little box with green or possibly a couple of red lights on it right now - it’s most likely near your computer?”

Client: “Lights and boxes, boxes and lights, just get my e-mail for me.

Me: “My test is showing that you should be able to get online right now. Can you tell me what you’re seeing on your computer screen?” Client: “It’s been the same thing for the last two hours.” Me: “An error message?” Client: “No, just stars. It’s black and moving stars.” Me: “…Do you see your mouse next to your keyboard?” Client: “Yes.”

Me: “Move it for me.” Client: “Move it?” Me: “Yes. Move it.” Client: “My e-mail!”

[onceuponatimeinthe70s]

The Story Behind the Song - Hey Joe (Jimi Hendrix)

By Alan Fairley: 2024 Here’s a bit of trivia for you. What’s the connection between recently reinstated US President Donald Trump and the Jimi Hendrix song Hey Joe? Answer – they’re both half Scottish. It’s a well documented fact that Mary Anne McLeod-Trump, a native of the village of Tong on the Isle of Lewis, gave birth to her second son, Donald, the future president, in June 1946, sixteen…

[street-light-serenade]

Show # 83 / September 2024 (Lead East Edition) Listen ANY TIME. As many times as you wish ! www.njdoowop.com/slsradio (all shows) www.soundcloud.com/sls-radio (latest 3 Shows)

Playlist:

House Rockers - Times Square Stomp Quiet Storm - Only The Angels Know - (a cappella) Drifters - Steamboat Michael D'Amore - Dry Your Eyes Ray & Darchaes - Darling Forever Hi Lites - Gloria My Darling Dreamlovers - Amazons and Coyotees Echoes - Someone Gladiolas - Hey Little Girl Dukays - I Feel Good All Over Dukays - I Never Knew Zodiacs - May I Dino & Heartspinners - I'm Not A Know It All Street Heart - Why Do Lovers Break Each Other's Hearts Jimmy Ricks & Ravens - I'll Always Be In Love With You Fabulons - This Is The End Five Discs - My Baby Loves Me Charms - Two Hearts Ernie & Halos - Darlin !!! Don't Make Me Cry Superiors - Eternal Dream Anthony & Sophomores - One Summer Night Rendezvous - It Breaks My Heart Mohawks - Bewitched (Bothered and Bewildered)

For release dates, labels and catalog numbers, please check out the playlist on my web site…

[logansbaby]

GUILTY AS SIN - Logan Howlett

❥ summary: the entire time you’ve known logan howlett, you’ve tried to keep your longings locked. then, one night, all that effort goes to waste when you’re confronted about your feelings.

word count: 8.5k (IM SORRY!!!!)

pairings: logan howlett x fem! mutant reader

content warnings: 18+ CONTENT MDNI, masturbation, dirty thoughts, light choking, multiple orgasms, oral (reader and logan receiving), spitting, sixty-nining, scent kink, like one spank, underwear stays ON, slight hint of arousal from crying?, creampie, p in v (practice safe sex ty!)

❥ a/n: guys…… am i…. a whore? (yes) do i need to be locked up? (also yes). i started this when i was on my period so maybe that’s the reason this is so filthy? anyway i don’t know how it got to 8k of smut but it DID and i have nothing to say about that… also reader has a mutation it’s not super in depth but her hair changes to red in certain situations and she has red light/energy she manifest in her hands, kind of confusing but it’s okay. anyway please please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

‘I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?’

Guilty as Sin? - Taylor Swift

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

THE SHEETS are chilled, crisp to the touch, cold enough that shivers tickle their way across exposed skin. A sigh is heard, loud enough for wandering ears as a figure moves about in the unmade, blanket muddled bed. The window had been left open, and as a result, cold air had poured into the room.

Despite the fact that goosebumps adorn your body, it felt as though you were on fire. Huffs escaped parted lips, a charged hum zipping through your veins that only intensified each time you moved. You’d been trying to sleep for the past couple hours, trying to ignore the need thrumming through you, but had only managed to fail.

You turn on your side for possibly the twentieth time, but the position only worsens your state as the flesh of your thighs squeeze unintentionally, a wave of brief relief sent to your throbbing core. Tears brim your lashes, damp with frustration because fuck, your body was humming with lust and everything was so, so sensitive.

This was all Logan’s fault.

The man has been gone less than a week and yet, your body was practically vibrating with need, trembling with desire.

The feelings you harbor make you feel shameful and guilty for a handful of reasons.

Logan was not your boyfriend; he wasn’t even a friend. While he was cordial with the others in the mansion, he remained cold and indifferent toward you.

You pretended it never bothered you when he pointedly ignored your greetings in passing or refused to partner up with you. You didn’t understand what you’d done to upset him, to warrant his treatment of you as if you were the most annoying person on the planet. More often than not, you are the subject of the man’s pointed glare.

So, logically, your heart shouldn’t race at the mere thought of him. Nor should desire pool between your thighs whenever images of his sweaty form cloud your mind.

By definition, you were immensely smart; a genius with how you could understand what others could not.

Though, you were only human and Logan fucking Howlett was a man worth embarrassing yourself over, especially when he looked like he did.

He wasn’t, your mind huffed.

He was, your heart retorted.

A memory comes forward, one that has your cheeks blushing, your chest rising a little faster than before.

A couple weeks ago, you’d been up late, struggling to sleep and with the way it evaded you, wandering the halls had been your solution, in hopes of tiring yourself out.

But when you had walked down your hallway, you froze at the sight of a shirtless Logan in his room, the door left ajar.

A towel covered his head as he scrubbed away the wetness in his hair, and you desperately hoped he hadn’t noticed your presence. Water dribbled down his muscular body, and your eyes greedily watched each droplet descend down, glistening against the tan stomach you wanted to bite. What really had you drooling, however, was the thick, prominent vein that crept down into the waistband of his gray sweatpants. Said pants had your eyes wide with the prominent bulge tented in the material.

When you just barely caught yourself from moaning, you had dashed back to your room right away. You were wide awake still, but for a completely different reason. All you could think about was tracing your tongue along that vein.

If you’d fucked yourself that night to the thought of him and his glistening torso, no one had to know.

So theoretically, if you gave in to your cravings, it wouldn’t be the first time, but it certainly wouldn’t make you feel any less guilty.

Scarlett hues dust your cheekbones, lips bitten until they’re swollen and shiny with spit. Your breasts ache from inside the confines of the pink, lacy shirt, made worse with each labored breath you inhale as perky nipples brush the material. Your hole feels incredibly empty, the need to be filled overpowering. Your clit, puffy and neglected, throbs with pure, searing need.

Another wave of aching pleasure from your wetness breaks your resolve— a shaky hand slipping from its place on your stomach down, down, down until cold fingers meet the mess between your thighs.

A gasp sounds, melodic as it swirls with heavy breathes, fluttering around the room as you brush over your clit. Even through the material of your underwear, the slight pressure of your fingers made you mewl.

Flashes of Logan dance behind closed lids, your imagination running wild while you messily swirl over your bundle of nerves.

You wanted him so, so bad, in every way possible, it actually hurt, both your heart and core.

Your mind submerges your consciousness with thoughts of him; his pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the tufts of his brown hair. The muscles that were constantly on display, his thick thighs that you wanted to ride until you came all over him, and the huge bulge that was ever present in those flattering jeans of his (and if it was a reoccurring fantasy of yours to ride that delicious bulge over his jeans until you both came from just dry humping, again— no one had to know).

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop thinking about Logan.

Him hovering over you, dog tags swinging in your face as he fucked you hard. Him picking you up and taking you against the nearest surface, lips trapped in an erotic kiss. Him prying your thighs open as he licked up your pussy, tongue dipping into your hole to lap up all the desire pooling, his lips wrapping around the swollen bud and sucking violently. Him holding your face lovingly as his hips thrusted his cock deeper into your throat, groans spilling at the gag you’d let out.

You were split between wanting to sink down onto his cock and rut your swollen nub against the curls that nestled the base of him and stuffing his dick down your throat, gagging around him until he came and coated your throat with his spend.

You didn’t even bother to remove the damp underwear, instead circling the engorged bud over the material— and oh, fuck. The roughness of the lace mixed with the delicious rubbing of your fingers send little moans tumbling from parted lips.

Your unoccupied hand slips under the shirt covering your chest and only settle once your nipple is pinched between determined fingers, rolling the pert bud in tandem with the amorous touch of your hand on your sex.

Pleasure nips at your pelvis, and if you were a little more aware, you’d be embarrassed at how fast you to reaching your peak. But, as it is, your brain is completely hazy with wanton thinking and the only thing on your mind was lessening the ache that pulsates deep within you.

And fuck, you’re so fucking needy for logan that you try to pretend it’s his fingers abusing your clit, his fingers tugging at the sensitive buds of your chest. You want his tongue between your thighs, licking up your desire and sucking your puffy bud into his pretty mouth.

Chest rising rapidly, you feel overwhelmed at the fantasies swirling before your eyes. Its far too much— the mix of your filthy desires and your fingers rubbing your nub have your legs quivering as wetness coats your hand.

“Logan, Logan, Logan—“ The chant of his name mindlessly falls from you, the feeling of your orgasm washing over you, threatening to pull you under those soaring, unforgiving waves of pleasure.

Eyes snap shut, ears ring with white noise, and your hips hump your hand pitifully— you were an absolute, writhing mess against the sheets.

The hair messily strewn around your pillow shifts then from its natural state to a dark red. Even with your eyes shut, you could feel the vermillion light whirling at your fingertips, begging to be released.

Your mutation was not one of subtlety.

Searing bliss coils in your lower tummy, your button tingling with the after effects of the orgasm that crashed into you. You sigh, because even though you just came, you felt far from satisfied. Your body buzzes with sweltering hunger, all the way from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes. Even if you fuck yourself dizzy with another orgasm, you knew it won’t satiate your body. Not completely, anyway.

Before you could slip your fingers inside your weeping hole, a loud knock echos through your room.

You still; desperate and hoping that if you ignored the noise, whoever was knocking would simply go away. But when another rhythmic thump comes a few seconds later, you huff.

It’s well past midnight at this point, so who in their right mind would be going about and slamming their fists on your door?

Apparently, you arent moving fast enough when the person has the nerve to knock for a third time, hand a little heavier than before. A growl, tinged with annoyance, slips out as you fling yourself up and off the bed.

You stomp to the door, ready to tell the person on the other side to fuck off.

But when you actually swing open the mahogany door, all the anger simmering beneath your heated skin disappears, along with your breath, as your eyes take in the sight before you.

Logan Howlett stands before you, seemingly angry as a frown etches deep on his face. He glares at you, hazel eyes swarming with exasperation and something unknown.

And little did you know, all of your craziest, fatal fantasies were about to come true.

❥

The moment Logan steps into the mansion, finally back from the complete shit show of a mission Charles had sent him on, he tenses instantly.

His fingers clench into fists, tight enough that the skin turns white. The adamantium claws threaten to poke through his knuckles as he inhales deeply.

Big mistake.

That sweet, sweet scent swarms his heightened senses, the intoxicating smell nearly making him dizzy. His heart speeds up, his stomach flutters, and his cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

Logan could fucking smell you.

It’s a heady aroma thats so completely you, that his body feels deranged, just about ready to march up those steps and break down your door.

He shakes himself loose from the metaphorical shackles of you and begins the journey to his room, trying to block out how delicious and syrupy you smell.

He decides then, as his body finally moves up the steps, that ignoring you is the best option.

But as he gets closer to the hallway he shares with you (just his luck, by the way!), he realizes that plan is a joke.

He feels his control slipping, especially as the heady scent grows stronger, tinged with something else— something erotic and salacious.

Logan curses, his entire being rigid.

You’re aroused, the smell seeping under the crack of the door giving you away instantly.

The idea of you whining as your pussy drips slick between your thighs has him grinding his teeth, fingers flexing and unflexing in an attempt to harness the control back to his body.

Though, it goes out the window entirely as his body is apruptly outside your door, unconsciously drawn to the very essence of you.

There’s a reason Logan has kept carefully crafted distance between the two of you.

The minute he was introduced to you, a new member of the x-men and teacher for the school, he knew he was fucked.

From the first look shared between you, he knew.

A pretty smile had graced your lips, eyes filled with joy as you greeted him, a hand outstretched in his direction as your hair swayed with your movements. In your cute, little outfit (a pretty, white lace dress that kissed the tops of your thighs, matched with baby pink pumps that accentuated your legs), he thought you looked like a princess.

He had stayed frozen, however, because he was assaulted with the fucking smell of you. It was nothing like he’d encountered before, and he’d been around for over a century.

Your scent was so fucking sweet, vanilla and honey permeated his nostrils and right in that moment, he wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

He knew that he had to keep his distance, otherwise he’d become addicted to you in every sense. If he let himself, he’d worship the very ground you walked on. He couldn’t risk having the walls he’d spent so long building to crumble.

And in an instant, he was angry that his body had reacted this way to someone he’d never even met. He was angry he wanted to press sweet kisses on your face while simultaneously wanting to fuck you on his cock until you screamed his name.

So, with that, he’d made up his mind.

He had simply glared at you, refused to acknowledge your existence and stormed out of Charles’ office. And since that day, he’s tried his hardest to pretend you didn’t exist— if only to ease the way you constantly haunted his every thought.

He pretended it didn’t kill him to see how your face would crumble at his rude behavior, at how he avoided you at all costs. He couldn’t help it, though, because if he treated you how he wanted, like the princess you were, he’d never let you go.

A sudden noise shakes him from the depths of his mind, that carnal, sensual essence growing stronger by the second.

“Logan, Logan, Logan,” your honeyed voice whines, all airy and light.

And it’s almost comical how the telltale snikt! sounds immediately after because what?

What the fuck? He thinks, mind utterly destroyed at the revelation that not only were you seemingly fucking yourself, but you were moaning his name.

Logan growls, low and dangerous as his claws reveal themselves, cutting through the skin of his knuckles. His body feels unnaturally hot, practically set on fire. His cock now uncomfortably hard in his jeans, lustful essence bubbling at his tip and no doubt staining his boxers.

With the wafts of your pretty aroma and sounds of your lewd whimpers, he knows he can’t resist you any longer.

His hand lifts, claws retracting as his heavy fist slams on your door.

And the sight of you, face shiny with a sheen of sweat has him choking on his own saliva.

Tonight was the night his control finally snaps, despite months of work put into avoiding you.

Logan knows his animalistic side is about to be released; he’s going to fucking ruin you.

❥

You gulp, a hand resting on the door frame as you stand frozen because honestly, what the fuck?

You deduce that the universe hates you because why? Why would the man you’d been thinking of while masturbating be right in front of you?

It only dawns on you when Logan’s gaze swipes over your figure that you’re basically naked. Clad only in your blushed, frilly top and the matching underwear, the latter soaked with both your arousal and release.

You shrink beneath his eyes, warmth simmering hot on the apples of your cheeks, and your mouth opens and closes, yet no words follow.

“Uh— Logan, hey!” Your voice is shaky, and whether it’s from the power of your release or the nerves that bumble beneath your skin at the man before you, you couldn’t tell. All you know is that you want the ground to swallow you up whole.

Logan doesn’t respond, just continues to stare at you in a way that you don’t understand. You assume he’s just gotten home from the very long mission, and confusion settles over you as to why he was at your door, especially considering how he badly despises you.

You’re about to voice that exact thought when Logan beats you to speaking.

“I heard you.” His gruff tone is coated in something darker than you’d ever heard before.

For a moment, you’re perplexed, brows furrowing and raising before your eyes go comically wide.

And— oh, oh.

“Can smell you, too.”

Heat licks at your whole body, embarrassment threatening to envelope you entirely. Tears of horror tickle your lash line, because this was probably the most painful moment of your life. Not only does the man hate you, but now he’s heard you moan his name as you came all over your fingers? How pathetic are you?

You open your mouth, an apology heavy on your tongue. You need to say something to quell the panic flooding your body— you’re never going to get over this

Though, before you can even speak, Logan slams his mouth onto yours.

He holds your head softly, a deep contrast to the way his lips melt over yours. A moan slips from your open mouth, the feel of his lips sucking at your bottom lip feels immensely intense and so, so good.

Your arms wrap around his neck, fingertips tangling themselves in the hair at his nape like you’ve wanted to do since the very day you met him.

“Logan—“ you whimper against his mouth, trying and failing to understand what the fuck was happening as he slips his tongue inside your wet, warm mouth. “Logan.”

He ignores you, grunting against your spit, slick lips as his hands travel down your curves, until they find purchase on your ass, gripping hard. A choked gasp spills from you as he suddenly paws at you, picking you up effortlessly in his strong arms.

The idea of him holding you up with no hesitation has your hips shuddering forward without your permission. Vaguely, you feel him move past the threshold of your door, slamming it shut before pressing your body up against the wood.

Logan switches between licking your tongue and sucking meanly at your lips, until they feel full and swollen with his attention. You’re pliant— almost willing to let him do anything he’d like to you.

Almost.

As good as his tongue feels dancing with yours, confusion still settles over your mind. Perhaps this was a dream and if that’s the case, you never want to wake up.

“Wait—wait.” You pull back, the questions swirling inside probing you until it’s impossible to ignore.

“Huh, baby?” Logan groans, teeth pulling at your bottom lip before sucking at the swollen skin.

Babybabybabybabybaby— the pet name clouds your senses for a second, a rush of arousal pooling at your hole. You want to cry at how that simple, simple word makes you feel.

“Stop that.” You mumble, pulling your head back and lips out of his reach.

Logan stares at you, silent but waiting as he waits for you say whatever is on your mind. Frankly, he wants his tongue to be buried deep in your cunt right about now, but, details.

“What is going on?” Breathless, the question settles between you, causing Logan’s brow to raise.

“Well, my tongue was just in your mouth—“ you slap his chest, face turning warm at his bluntness.

“Not that. I’m— why are you here? Why are you kissing me when you can’t stand me?” Your voice is quiet, insecurity present in your tone. Nimble fingers grasp the dog tags that rest on his chest, and you’ve never been grateful for it.

At that, Logan’s face scrunches up, confusion floating around his irises, lips curving downward.

“What are you talking about?” If it wasn’t for the genuineness in his voice, you would’ve smacked his chest again at how clueless he was.

“What do you mean? You’ve made it very clear how you feel about me; you’ve despised my entire existence the moment we met— wait, I can’t even say that because you didn’t even have the decency to greet me!”

Frustration hovers over you heavily, enough to snap you out of the lustful spell Logan often inflicts upon you. You slide down his body, ignoring the quiver of your cunt when you make contact with his jean clad bulge. You push at his chest, needing distance to ensure you actually get your words out and don’t end up back with his tongue down your throat.

“I don’t hate you.” Logan grunts out, staring at you as you pace the wooden floors of the room. Vaguely, he’s paying attention, but he can’t be blamed for the way his eyes focus on the way your ass shifts with each step, the plush skin so inviting as the lace cup each cheek. “What’re you on about?”

Frankly, Logan’s pissing you off. The vague answers are getting on your nerves, enough that you feel yourself snap.

Your hair swiftly turns bright red, a scarlet blossoming over the strands until they coat them completely. Your emotions could never quite be concealed, not with the way your hair would turn different variations of red when you were angry, furious, sad, happy, aroused.

“You’ve been a dick to me, treating me like shit for no reason and now you think you can just waltz in here and kiss me like that? You think you can pretend to want me when we both know that’s not true?”

Balls of fiery, red energy bloom at your fingertips, and though you stand in your pretty pink assortment, you look the part of threatening.

It’s too bad the abrupt display of your mutation, mixed with fiery words, has Logan’s cock jerking with want.

“Sometimes, I question whether or not you’re actually a genius.”

And just like that, you feel the words like a punch to the gut. You’re so mad, so blind by the intense emotions you feel for Logan, that you feel those pesky flames of energy moving up your wrist and forearm, a telltale sign of your anger.

“Fuck you, Logan.” You hiss, your fingers hot with the heat coursing through them.

What pisses you off more, to which your hair and eyes darken to a dangerous maroon, is the fact that Logan wears a faint smirk, watching you with humor as if you aren’t showcasing how pissed you are.

“Are you done yet?” Logan takes a step closer, uncaring of the way your mutation flares furiously at his presence.

“Logan, leave me alone. I don’t need you to sit here and pretend to want me. I don’t need you to make fun of me, either.” Huffing, you glare up at the man before you, who stares back just as pointedly.

You turn around, back facing him as you go to enter the attached bathroom when all at once, you’re spun back around by a hand on your nape, your neck in a delicious tight grip as Logan pulls you into his body, smashing his mouth on yours for the second time tonight.

Your body betrays you, a desperate whimper ebbs out at how fucking good Logan’s lips feel on yours.

His teeth bite down on your top lip, before suckling sweetly to combat the pain flourishing there. You moan, mouth falling open as he messily kisses you. The intoxicating taste of him swarms your tastebuds, his tongue swirling with yours in a way that leaves you dizzy with need.

A string of spit connects between your mouths as Logan pulls away, chuckling meanly when you promptly follow the warm wetness of his lips. A rough hand grips your throat again, tight enough to leave you feeling breathless but delicious enough to make your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“So that’s what you think, princess? That I don’t want you?” Logan’s fingers flex around your throat, gripping at your jaw to capture all of your attention. As if you were anything but than enamored with him. “You think that’s what I’ve been doing, huh?”

You can only stare up at him as your heartbeat rings loudly through your eardrums. A hand goes to tug at his shirt, an attempt to steady yourself, but Logan’s faster as he grabs your wrist.

“Answer me.” He whispers hotly as the hand holding yours captive moves to intertwine your fingers.

The touch of him, the hold on your throat and roughness of his fingers in yours, renders you speechless. You’re so overcome with your emotions that you can only manage to nod. The weight of you goes limp in his hold, silently begging him to do something to satiate the hunger burning every inch of you.

“Words, baby. Got nothing to say now, huh?” He taunts, his grip leaving your neck in favor of thumbing at your lips.

“Yes— I, it’s what it’s seemed like, what you’ve made me feel. Thought you hated me.”

Logan’s nose twitches, no doubt smelling your arousal as it leaks into the material covering you, ruining the lace.

“Couldn’t be more wrong,” He groans, pushing his thumb past the soft of your lips. His knees nearly buckle at the feel of your mouth closing and sucking his thumb, tongue rolling up against the skin as though it was his cock instead. “Shit, baby.”

You whine around his finger, eyes fluttering up at him in a way that has his dick aching for you.

“Fuck, been dreaming about you since the day we met. Been dreaming of you in every way possible.” He admits, a smile tugging at his lips at the way you freeze, lips leaving his thumb with a ‘pop’.

“What?” It’s a whisper, barely audible but he heard it all the same. The butterflies in your stomach are now having a complete rager, bolts of anxiousness kissing your skin.

“Of course.” Logan leanes down, pressing a kiss to your wet lips. “Knew the second I saw you you’d ruin me, so I just… stayed away. I never meant to make you think the worst. M’sorry, honey.”

This was not the way you’d expected tonight to go.

It’s as though all the confusion, anger, and sadness drain from you and, in its place,its full of the tremulous feeling of the admission.

And despite the fact that you’d fucked yourself thinking about him, and he’d heard, you feel incredibly shy. You drop your head to his hard chest, your hands squeezing his own where he holds them.

“I don’t know what to say.” You utter, brain all muddled and no other thoughts come forth as Logan haunts every inch of your mind. You feel like an idiot, even though Logan had acted like a dick for the better part you’d known him.

Logan simply lifts your head, invading your senses as his nose bumps yours.

“You were a dick.” It’s spoken factually, making him huff against your face.

“I know.”

“You could’ve kissed me months ago.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

His quick reply leaves you flushing, but when you nod, his lips are back on yours instantly, in their rightful place.

The kiss is messy; hot, wet, and dirty. Logan groans when you jump up, strong arms catching your thighs in a tight grip. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lose yourself in the thrilling taste of his mouth. You unconsciously start humping him, dragging your drenched panties across his hard dick.

You suck on his tongue before capturing his lip between your teeth, nails dragging down his shoulder blades. A loud, feral growl escapes Logan, and without another thought, he throws your pliant body on the bed.

And at the sight of you, Logan feels like he’s about to come right then and there. In your skimpy outfit, so much plush, soft skin is on display. The hair tumbling from your shoulders has turned a dark cherry color during your kiss, and your hands are tickled with red energy that’s twirling up your arms, not unlike the way vines thread onto an old home.

This time, though, he knows you’re not upset, but instead, aroused.

He can smell the way your slick seeps from your fluttering hole, how it sticks to the skin of your thighs.

And fuck, he wants to sink his face right in front of your pussy and inhale until he’s woozy with the complete perfume of you.

So, that’s exactly what he does.

Your eyes widen as Logan drops onto the floor in front of the bed, yanking your body to the edge. Your lower half is completely in his grip, and he stares at you for a moment, eyes hazy with lust. Then, he’s pulling your pussy all the way up to his nose. The feel of him so close to your puffy lips has you clenching, even more so when he lowers his head and fucking sniffs you.

“Fuck, baby. Been dreaming of this since the minute I saw you. Smells so fuckin’ sweet.” Logan inhales deeply again, smattering messy, open mouthed kisses to the skin of your upper thigh. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to throw you over my shoulder, get you alone and eat this pussy.”

“Logan!” You whimper out. The sound is completely feeble but you couldn’t care less, not with the way he’s sucking bruises into your skin. “Please, please.”

Spurred on by your whines, he sinks his canines into the skin, where your thigh meets the lips of your core.

Pain simmers into pleasure as the sting is followed by his tongue. Rosy splotches decorate your upper thighs, a preview of the bruises that will glaze the skin tomorrow. Logan does this until he’s satisfied with how his teeth imprint the skin. It’s as if it’s his way of solidifying that you’re his, like he’s staking his claim with his bruises smattering your thighs.

At some point your hand finds purchase in his hair, pawing at the tufts and tugging his face closer to where you need him most. He groans, the pain at his scalp sending jolts of desire throughout his body.

He sneaks a look up at you, and shit, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Your head is thrown back, sending those rebellious, red strands fluttering around you. Your hips are canting up to his mouth, and the smell of you, mixed with the previous orgasm you’d worked out before he interrupted, sends his senses in overdrive.

He knows he’d tortured you both enough when you can’t stop shivering with need, when his own hips brush against the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, Logan licks a long, wet stripe up your clothed pussy, suctioning around your enlarged clit.

The taste of you, heady, sweet, and so distinctly you, floods his tongue. He knew you’d taste good, but this? Oh, he wanted to drink you up all hours of the day.

With a growl, Logan tuggs the lace aside and loses it. He sucks, licks, and mouthed at your cunt like a man starved. His tongue dips into your hole before licking up and down your slit.

Moans of his name sound around the walls of your room, along with the filthy noise of his lips sucking your swollen button.

You’ve never felt like this before; the way he’s eating you out has your entire body on fire, and if you could see yourself, you’d see how ruby colored lines swirl all around your hands, how your hair practically glows with the intensity of your feelings.

He’d been attracted to you the minute he saw you— but the way you look when your mutation is at work? The way your hair grows shades of intoxicating reds and the way the fiery energy glows from the tips of your fingers to your elbows? Oh, how it fucking wrecks him. He just wants to keep you captive in this bedroom for all of eternity, if only to see you like this all the time.

“Feels so fucking good, fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess, hands tugging Logan’s hair hard, resulting in a moan that vibrates your pussy.

“Mine.” He grunts, and you gasp at the sensation of saliva as he spits directly onto your clit. “My fuckin’ pussy.”

Then, he latches his soft lips around your puffy bud and sucks hard. His dirty words and lucious mouth have your thighs shivering, hips bucking with insatiable need.

Like you’d done when you were alone and thinking about him, whimpers of ‘Logan’ slip past bitten lips as you rut against his face.

“That’s it, baby, say my name. Taste so fuckin’ good.” He humms against the slick, swell of your pussy.

A stream of ‘fuckfuckfuck’ is audible from open lips, forming an ‘o’ as the rush of delicious, hot pleasure pours over you completely.

As you come down, the pleasure fizzles out and overwhelming bursts of overstimulation bubble over you. Logan continues to lap at your wetness, groaning at your taste.

“S’too much, Logan.” Shaky hands grip his brown locks and you try and fail to bring the man away from your throbbing hole. His tongue laps at the taste of you, dipping in as deep as he could to savor every last drop. “Oh, fuck.”

“Taste too fuckin’ sweet, baby. Can’t help it.”

Logan grips tightly at your thighs, cruelly pinching at the flesh as he devours your pretty clit.

He can’t get enough, and seemingly, neither can you, with the way you buck into his warm, slick mouth despite the crushing pleasure. The material of your underwear snaps against you as Logan’s grip loosens, but he still eats you out as though there was no barrier.

His soft lips and dangerous tongue make it difficult to do anything but take the mind-numbing pleasure.

He’s content to stay here; between your gorgeous thighs and ravage your cunt all night, pull orgasms from you until you forget everything except the syllables that make up his name.

Except, the words that come from you have him still against you, his cock jerking and responding immediately to the addictive tilt of your voice.

“Logan— Logan, wanna suck your cock. Please.”

It was as though you were made for him— every inch of you riles him up like no one else has before and he has to take a deep, deep breath to refrain from coming in his jeans like a damn virgin.

With one last lick up your lace covered cunt, his face is suddenly above yours, the sight is lethal. The entirety of his lower face wears your wetness with pride, glistening and gleaming in the lowlight of the room. His eyes look animalistic, the hazel taken over by the black of dilated pupils.

Logan looks at you like he wants to fucking destroy you. You know without a doubt you’d let him.

A sweet kiss is pressed against your lips, a warm caress of his tongue on yours, the musky taste of your pussy causing you to part your thighs further. You whine once more, because you crave the heady taste of his cock; your mouth salivates at the thought of his tip heavy on your tongue.

“Easy, honey. Can smell how bad you want it.”

If you were less intoxicated by lust, you’d be mortified at the knowledge Logan can smell your arousal right now.

“Logan.” Pathetic whimpers and moans against his mouth have him pulling back, gritting his teeth to force himself to get a grip. It doesn’t work, not with the way you’re spread out below him, face pretty with a tiny that vaguely mimics the hue of your top and panties.”Please.”

How is he meant to last when you sound like that? All fucked out from just his tongue alone?

“C’mere’.” Logan mutters, tugging your body all the way up his chest, maneuvering you until your pussy is hovering above his mouth, facing his cock.

Completely fucked out, saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of his bulge, massive even in the confines of jeans.

You’re confused as to why Logan has put you on his chest, but it makes sense when he pulls your thighs down, mouth finding your wet, sopping sex once more.

You cry out, hips jolting at the way his tongue push the fabric away from your puffiness, immediately wrapping around your clit. At the way you were shaking on his face, unmoving besides the subtle thrusts of hips, he stops.

“Lo—“

“Go on then, baby. Suck my cock, just like you wanted.”

And oh, you both feel the slick that follows after those rasped words fill the air.

Only once you undo that damn belt buckle and pull both his jeans and boxers down, just enough to see the way his cock bounced out, wet at the red, swollen tip, does Logan resume licking up your pussy.

Fueled by the return of those talented lips, you lean forward without another thought.

Licking from base to tip, a moan vibrates against his cock as you hum, a taste so distinctly Logan making you feel light and warm. You lick up and down him sloppy, spitting on the tip of him as you slick his dick up, before finally wrapping your lips around him.

“Fuck.” His growl is borderning on feral; his teeth finding purchase on your asscheek and biting, an attempt to ground himself. It only serves to have his hips jump at the feel of you whining on him, sucking him down so fucking good. “Fuck, knew you’d be good with that pretty fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s so focused on the way you’ve started bobbing up and down the length of him, overcome with euphoria at the warmth and wetness as you suck and swirl your tongue, that he’s stopped his attention to your pussy, something he’s only reminded of as you wiggle impatiently over him.

“Sorry, princess, you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy.” He grits out, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs at the little ‘hmph!’ you let out, pulling off his cock.

Though he can’t see you, he knows there’s a string of spit that spans from your swollen lips to his pulsating cock. He shutters, overwhelmed by you entirely, before burying his face into your weepy cunt.

”Oh! Logan, feels so good!” With a pathetic little whimper, his cock fills your mouth again as you sink down, satisfied with the way his tongue is licking at you.

A blend of moans sound as he wraps his lips around your puffed clit, as you ease his cock into your throat.

Logan’s eating you out in a frenzy, crazed by the tang of you soaking his mouth, chin, and nose. Despite the warmth bubbling in his stomach, he’s determined to make you come on his tongue again.

When thick fingers nudge into your hole unexpectedly, you mewl at the blissful feeling.

Logan’s fingers work steadily inside you in tandem with the way his mouth suckles divinely at your button. You’re an absolute mess— grinding down on his face, riding his digits, gagging as Logan’s hips match the pace of his fingers, grunts vibrating against you as he fucks your throat.

Logan curls his fingers in a way that has you seeing every fucking color of the rainbow. You come, moaning around the base of his cock and rocking back and forth on his fingers and mouth, muffled sobs spilling from your stuffed mouth.

When he feels you shivering on his tongue, overstimulated and sensitive, he pulls away from your center, the soaked fabric of your panties falling back into place once more.

Your mouth is still full of him, lips lazily sucking him down as your body tries to get ahold of the white hot pleasure still coursing through you.

“C’mere, baby.”

It’s a soft whisper against your thigh, but it settles over you, his soothing voice swirling around your shaky body like a warm blanket. Letting his cock fall from your lips, you scramble as fast as your body allows before you find yourself straddling Logan, staring down at the man with cloudy, wet eyes.

And maybe Logan is sick— because the sight of tears spilling over your cheeks has his cock unbelievably hard, a growl threatening to tumble out at the way your pretty, crimson hair spills over your shoulders.

Still, he wants to make sure you’re okay.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Logan watches at the way a small smile graces your features, even as tears continue to glisten your lash line. “You okay?”

“Nothing's wrong, just feel so good.” Your voice is a little hoarse, no doubt from the way his dick was fucking your whiny mouth. Your voice is still the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, those few words going straight to his dick.

Logan feels his own lips tug upwards as you speak. Even though he’s fucked you silly and stolen two orgasms, he tenses with desire as he notes the want dancing in your irises.

“Good.”

“Mhmm.”

There’s a beat of silence, a moment where hungry eyes lock in on one another, sensual energy threatening to burst.

Then, in a flash, lips are locked and tongues whirl together familiarly. It’s a hot, lewd kiss filled to the brim with desire— the passion almost too much with how it lights up every inch of your bodies, a fire threatening to spread.

Neither of you are sure who moved first— but it doesn’t matter because the way Logan’s hand wraps around your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail in a tight grip, steals your attention.

If someone were to see the two of you, they would see how desperate and needy you both were.

You’re kissing Logan’s top lip, biting before soothing the sting with a sweet, soft suck. Your thighs are spread over his own entirely and your position has your cunt settling over his cock nicely. Logan’s free hand grips the skin of your ass tight, guiding as you grind against him, the soaked panties catching on the tip of him with each thrust. The fingers tangled in your hair are unforgiving, tugging harshly as Logan grunts into your open mouth.

You’re both a mess of passion and lust— and your body thrums with the idea of his cock inside you.

“Such a good girl, that’s it. Fuck—“ Logan nearly whines, the feel of your wetness on his bulge has him trapping your lips in another all consuming kiss.

Your hands, lit up with energy, find purchase in his pretty hair, yanking as he kisses you vulgar, because everything is somehow too much and not enough.

“Logan— need you. Need you so bad, baby.”

Logan wants to eat you up entirely— somehow you’re still not satiated, rubbing your slick all over his lap and begging him for more. If he was a better man, he would’ve fucked you already. As it is, he likes it a little too much hearing you beg for him.

“Shhh, you got me, honey. I’m right here.”

“Fuck me, please. Need you inside, Logan.”

There’s tears in your eyes again, ready to spill over if the ache between your thighs isn’t soothed in the next five minutes. You’re clinging to him, hips stuttering because it’s just not enough and you both know it.

“My poor baby.” He sighs, the words somehow a mix of condescending and genuine and it makes you cry out. “So needy, huh?”

“Just for you.” The way you say it, it’s a message you both understand— you need him in every way possible, not just sexually.

He wonders if you know just how badly he needs you, especially now that he’s got a taste of you.

“I’m yours—“ you start, but it’s cut off by the squeak you emit when you’re suddenly flipped over, Logan’s muscular form hovering over you, his dog tags swinging between you.

“You’re mine.” It’s not a question, but a statement and it sends a thrill over you.

“Yours.” You’re nodding, eyes wide and so fucking pretty that it makes Logan squeeze his hands, the metal of his claws threatening to break through the skin.

He pulls his shirt off then, pride filling his chest at the way your eyes glaze over, a lip taken between your teeth as you stare at the vein that leads to his cock, which is pulsing with the promise of release.

He doesn’t comment on your lustful eyes, instead tracing his fingers down your body, until he reaches the hem of your baby pink lace. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination but Logan might break something if he doesn’t see your tits in all their glory.

You get the message, leaning up and slowly pulling the fabric from your chest, your breasts and midsection on full display. If he hadn’t already eaten you out twice, you would’ve moved to cover your taut nipples. Instead, you grip the chain of his necklace and pull him back down with you, sighing when you’re chest to chest.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” He says, pecking your lips once, licking a stripe down your throat. Wetness coats both nipples as his tongue swirls over them. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to have you under me?”

You moan, nails digging into his shoulder blades at the fluttery feeling his lips bring, deep enough to elicit blood from his skin. Logan groans, head tipping back as his hips thrust down suddenly, the tip of his cock ramming into your clit.

“Fuck, Logan.” Your hands span the expanse of his back, scratching each time he bumps your button just right. His jeans are still on, resting just below his thighs and something about the way he couldn’t even get up to properly take them off makes you shudder.

He’s rutting against you now, dick rubbing filthy over your panties and it dawns on you then that he hasn’t come yet, too preoccupied with taking care of you.

Determined, you slide one hand onto his asscheek, pushing him further into you, while your other grips his chin, pulling his mouth to yours in a slick, open-mouth kiss.

“C’mon Logan, fuck me, please.”

Logan turns into something animalistic then— flipping you over without warning, caging you between his arms. Your gasp is audible as he yanks your wet lace to the side, before thrusting forward, and fucks his cock into you with one thrust.

“Oh my god, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—“ the feel of Logan finally inside you had you absolutely fucking drunk on the feel of him.

“Tryin’ to, baby.” He grits, arms flexing beside your head, fingers intertwining with yours as he sinks into you, inch by inch, until you were filled to the brim.

Logan’s body covers yours, lips pressing all over your shoulder blades to soothe the little whines you let out at how fucking full you felt. It’s everything you want and more— you want to memorize the feel of him, every ridge and vein as he bottoms out.

“Baby,” he grunts, fingers flexing with yours as he stays still, for your sake. “So fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ wet.”

And it was true— despite the fact that he’s huge, he slipped in easily because of the mess you created, a slick mix of your come and desire that seeps from you.

“Logan, fuck me, please.” You ask so sweetly, as if you weren’t impaled by his cock right now.

With that, he slips out of you slowly, before fucking into you hard, deep. Then, he fucking ravishes you— creating a steady, fast paced rhythm and fucking you dumb with his cock.

You’re a whiny mess. Your hair grows darker, hands glittering between his grip each time he slams into you, each time your cunt squeezes around him.

Completely cock drunk, your back arches, ass up and hips slamming back against his with your cheek pressing into the mattress as you sob.

You’re so fucking needy that his own thighs are wet with your desire— he growls at the sight, fucking you even faster.

“You’re mine. Have been since you came here.” Logan growled, releasing your fingers in favor of gripping your hair and pulling you up until you were pressed into his chest. “My fuckin’ girl.”

“Yours!” You cry, tears rolling down your face. Your entire body jolts with pleasure, and you feel like you couldn’t breathe, not with how euphoria threatens to smother you. “M’so close!”

“I know, honey, I know. Can feel you fuckin’ squeezin’ around me.“ Logan moans out, pushing you back down into the mattress and finding purchase on your hips, pulling you back hard. “Gonna come all over me?”

You don’t answer, instead crying out as you feel a sharp flash of pain on your asscheek, Logan’s hand swift and quick. The pain mixes into pleasure when he rubs at the red skin, pressing sweet kisses on your back.

He wishes you could see yourself right now; maybe then you would understand why he was so intoxicated by you.

Your pretty body is bent over, ass up and face in the sheets as whimpers seep out. The lace that drove him crazy is yanked to the side, grazing his cock each time he drove deeper inside you. You’re so beautiful like this, he wants to keep you forever.

Sweet, little ‘uh,uh’s’ fill Logan’s ears as he speeds up, pulling you back up once more against his chest. He wants to be as close as fucking possible, the feel of your skin on his almost searing.

You turn your head back, lips seeking out his own. He kisses you, sucking at your lips as he continues to fuck you vigorously.

The fluttery feeling of your cunt squeezing around him suddenly sends him over the edge— low groans falling in your open mouth as hot, searing spurts of come coat your walls.

Knowing that Logan had lost it, finally giving into the temptation like you’d been doing all night, has you whining as your own orgasm surrounds your entire being.

“Baby—“ Logan thrusts shallowly, riding your orgasms out as long as he could; if he could, he’d never leave this feeling behind. Seemingly, you agreed as your nails dig into his forearms that hold you up, eyes squeezing shut at the overpowering bliss tingling everywhere. “I got you, it’s okay.”

“Logan, fuck!” It comes out as a huff, head against his sweaty neck, body completely limp in his hold.

You’d never been so incredibly sex-dazed in your life. From this moment onward, Logan has ruined you for anyone else.

Though, you hope there isn’t anyone else.

Logan kisses your head before untangling from you; a smirk dancing across his usually gruff features at the little whine let out as he pulls out. He gently rolls you onto your back, laying your head tenderly on the pillows. It was such a stark difference to the rough way he’d fucked you minutes prior, but butterflies flutter around your stomach all the same.

You watch his eyes trail lower, landing on the mess between your thighs.

Logan is mesmerized by the sight; your pussy is destroyed , so wet with his come seeping out of your hole. Mindlessly, he lowers himself until heieye level with your sex. Sans any warning, his fingers are thrusted back inside.

He ignores your hiss in favor of trying to push his come back inside, to keep you full of him. His eyes meet yours, watching as your chest rises as you observe him. There’s a glint in your eye that has his heart stuttering.

“I want to kiss you.” You whisper, soft and a little bashful, as if he didn’t have his fingers inside you. You look too fucking perfect, hair returning to its original color, eyes cloudy with unspoken words, a smile gracing your face.

How could he deny you when you looked like that?

Logan kisses your clit once, enjoying the way you jump before removing his fingers.

With those same digits, he sticks them in his mouth, sucking the flavor of you both and humming. He could hear the way your heart picked up at his actions. He releases them with a loud ‘pop’, before finally coming back to you.

He hovers over you, and like you’d done earlier, soft hands pull at the chain until his lips melt with yours in a soft kiss. Logan pulls back, resting his head on yours, eyes connecting with yours.

“Hi.” You giggle then, nose bumping his in the proximity.

“Hi, baby.” Logan kisses your lips once more, before rolling beside you. You would’ve whined at him if it weren’t for the way he immediately pulls you onto his chest.

With your limbs tangled, a kiss pressed to your forehead, you think this could be heaven and if so, you never wanted to leave.

It was quiet for a moment— the two of you content to listen to one another’s heartbeat, the breaths that fall from lips. Then, you break the silence, because of course you do.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know, I’m expecting you to take me out before you get me like this again.” You mutter against his slick chest, where your head rests as you wrap yourself around the man like a koala.

A deep laugh fills the room, chest rumbling because what the fuck?

He’s fucked you, with his mouth and cock, and now you’re laying on him as his come seeps out of you and you’re demanding him to take you out?

He was going to in the first place, but he thinks it’s cute you decided for him.

Logan may be a man that’s been alive for almost two centuries, practically immortal, but it’s completely possible you’ll be the death of him.

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚ fin

tags: @strangererotica @cevansbaby-dove @morganyourone @asiancupid