#xmen 2000 x reader

[softfem-dom]

the k-12 experience 🍊 ,, featuring lowiron!reader's path through the school.

The people are only now starting to realize the way the cake is getting spoiled, sweetness rotting. only seeing the dramatic rise after the downfall that nobody noticed <33

⌢⠀ ★ .ᐟ

C H A P T E R S :

⌢❛ wheels on the bus ft. logan howlett ╯ " don't be a dick and babysit "

⌢❛ class fight ft. john allerdyce(pyro) + kitty pryde ╯ " for the throath, go for the throath "

⌢❛ the principal ft. scott summers ╯ " shooting at the angels while claiming you're the good guy "

⌢❛ show and tell ft. charles xavier / magneto ╯ " I'm on display for all you fuckers to see "

⌢❛ nurse's office ft. jean grey + logan howlett ╯ " just let me go into the nurse's office, I'm pale as that loose-leaf paper "

⌢❛ drama club ft. hank mccoy ╯ " you overanalyze every every word I say "

⌢❛ strawberry shortcake ft. ororo munroe + jean grey ╯ " feeling unsure of my naked body. stand back, watch it taking shape "

⌢❛ lunchbox friends ft. anne marie + kitty pryde ╯ " come to my(e), friendship that will last forever "

⌢❛ orange juice ft. logan howlett ╯ " ordering oranges off the menu, the way you look is not an issue "

⌢❛ detention ft. hank mccoy ╯ " please don't be mad if I don't smile back, alright? "

⌢❛ teacher's pet ft. logan howlett ╯ " do you regret? the things we shared and I'll never forget "

⌢❛ high school sweethearts ft. kitty pryde ╯ " could you hold me through the night? put your lips all over my mine "

⌢❛ reccess ft. ororo munroe ╯ " too naive to even care 'bout the words she whispered while she brushed out my hair "

[chemicl]

His little kitty ears 🥲🐈‍⬛

[hyper-fixates]

[dorkszn]

COME AND GET THAT + logan howlett

SYNP — being home for the summer from school isn’t so bad. it isn’t so bad until your motorcycle stops working. and your dad tells you to call over the man that inspired you to get the bike in the first place and the closest one who could fix it, his best friend and your longtime crush, logan.

WARNINGS — masc reader, age gap ( no duh ), reader’s dad is kinda a dick, subbot reader, oral, petnames, logan’s a little mean, slight degradation, kitchen sex, hair pulling, eventual smut, porn with plot | 3.4K ( im sorry 😭 )

PART TWO ( coming soon )

Summertime. It’s such a wonderful time. You get out of school and can drive back to your hometown. You see your parents and siblings and get to flop onto the mattress of your old childhood bedroom.

But your favorite part? Getting to see your dad’s best friend, Logan. Who seems only to be getting hotter and hotter with each passing year. Only maybe you’re just getting more worked up and shy with every year that passes because each summer you can barely stand to look him in the eye or be alone in a room with him.

You’ve been home for about a week or two by this point, getting back into the comfort and schedule of your hometown life. Luckily but also somehow unfortunately, you have yet to see Logan since you returned. Hell, he probably doesn’t even know you’re home.

So imagine your surprise when you’re standing outside of your parent’s house with your dad, examining your sleek motorcycle that just wouldn’t start. You know how to do basic motorcycle care that of course, Logan taught you. He was the one who inspired and motivated you to get the damn bike anyways. So why were you surprised when your dad suggested calling him?

“Guess I’ll give Logan a call and see if he’s busy. He should know how to fix it,” your father says in a small sigh as he stands up straight.

“Wait, call Logan?” You repeat even though you know it’s dumb question and that you were just nervous to see him again since winter break.

“Yeah, Logan, you got a problem with that or something, squirt?” Your father responds slightly mockingly as he repeats your obviously odd question. You just grumble slightly under your breath.

“No, dad, just… go ahead and call em’,” you say in a sigh as the two of you stalk back towards the house. After that, it only takes half an hour before the inevitable and you see that familiar pickup pull into your driveway.

You reluctantly trail behind your dad like a clingy pup instead of a grown man to go greet Logan. You don’t miss the way he smirks with his signature cigar between his lips as he very slowly drags his eyes on your body.

“And when was I gonna find out my favorite college kid was home?” Logan asks gruffly, plucking the cigar from his lips with an outlet of smoke. His voice damn near sends shivers down your spine everytime you hear it.

You just opt for shrugging and giving him a casual smile. “Find out when you find out, I guess,” you say and of course, he lets out that little chuckle and snort that you love so much.

Logan puts his calloused, large hand out for you to greet him correctly only for him to grab your hand and pull you into him. You can’t help the small, very unmanly yelp that leaves you when he grabs you so suddenly. The smell of him hitting you so quick it damn near makes your mind spin. Cigars and ash and wood and leather and just him. Gosh, it almost drives you so crazy you barely notice the light headlock he put you in.

When you do finally notice, it definitely does not help the flare of heat in the pit of your stomach. You try to brush it off, tugging at his incredibly strong and veiny biceps with a small grin to pry him off of you. Finally, he releases you and you can’t help but take in a relieved breath.

“Still as much of a little shit as ever, kid,” Logan taunts, placing his cigar back between his lips. Lips that you wanted to feel on yours so bad. “You sure you ain’t getting smaller with each year?”

You roll your eyes for the second time that night. He knew you weren’t getting smaller. It just seemed like he was getting bigger even at his grown age. And damn, is he big. 6 feet 2 inches and 205 pounds of pure muscle. “Yeah, I’m sure, Logan,” you end up mumbling in response as you stuff your hands in your pockets.

Logan just chuckles again. “Yeah, okay,” he responds sarcastically. With another puff of smoke, he looks to your father then your bike. “So, what’s the problem, Bub?” He inquires.

You trail your father as he walks Logan over to your motorcycle. The same model he recommended years ago. You barely listen as your father explains the situation to his best friend, your eyes stuck to the man in the red flannel.

“Looks like you just need an oil change, kid. And your fuel filters clogged,” Logan says in a small grunt as he stands from his kneeling position next to your bike.

“Damn, squirt, you can’t tell when you need an oil change?” Your dad questions, pinching the bridge of his nose. You frown slightly and your brows furrow.

“I just didn’t notice, okay?” You grumble in reply.

Your father sighs before looking back at Logan. “Could ya fix it, Howlett?” Your father questions, folding his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah, could change the oil if the kid wants. The fuel filter, on the other hand, you’re gonna have to replace the part. I’m assuming you don’t just got one layin’ around here,” Logan explains and he dusts his palms off.

“Perfect. Time for the kid to learn to do something for himself,” your father says with a grin of mock-approval. Oh, how you wish your mother was here instead. Logan just lets out a small chuckle that seems just a little bit forced. “Well, I gotta head off to work. Help Logan out, will ya? Get him whatever he needs or asks for.” Your father sighs to you.

He’s going to leave? The two of you? Alone? Does he actually want you to pass away? “Yeah, dad, I got it,” you say to cover up the way your heart almost immediately started racing. Then it was only minutes later before you were watching your father pull out of your driveway and zip down the street, leaving just you and Logan.

Logan turns to you and damn you could almost feel the way he looked at you. You nervously pull your eyes away from the street and to Logan who offers you his usual smirk when you look at him. “Get me your old man’s box, will ya?” He requests.

“Yeah, sure,” you murmur before turning and walking back towards the house to get your dad’s toolbox. And are you being paranoid or is he definitely watching you walk away?

You eventually come back with your dad’s toolbox in hand. Logan turns to you when he hears your footsteps despite them being damn near silent. He’s always so astute and aware. It scares you and somehow turns you on at the same time.

“Atta boy,” Logan says as he takes the box from you and holds it like it weighs nothing more than a bottle of water. “Thanks, kid.”

Atta boy. Gosh, what would you give to hear him say that again. “Yeah, no problem,” you respond. You can’t help but watch him for a few minutes before turning and walking back towards the house. Your father would definitely force you to stay and watch Logan so you could “actually do something right.” But thankfully and also unfortunately, he isn’t there and Logan could care less.

And for the next 45 minutes, you spend your time inside trying to distract yourself from the man outside. The man you were home alone with. You leave the door ajar just in case he needs anything which of course he doesn’t. He’s just that good, right?

You lean against your kitchen counter, feeding your cat, James, a blonde cat who is somehow more accident prone than you are, blueberries. Your mind is practically running on autopilot out of boredom. But you’re acutely aware of the sound of the front door opening and shutting. As well as the heavy footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

Logan turns the corner, his flannel gone, leaving him in just a tanktop and jeans. A tanktop that practically put all of him on display. The muscles and veins in his arms, the firmness of his chest. Specifically that vein on his right biceps that runs all the way down to his forearm.

There’s a few oil marks staining his skin, on his neck and arms and chest. A little on his cheek. How the hell did he get that dirty? Hell, not like you’d know. You hardly touch the inside of that motorcycle, willingly.

His dog tags hanging perfectly in between his pecs. How you would love to trade places with those things right now. “S’all done, Bub,” Logan tells you as he steps further into the kitchen.

“Right, yeah, thanks,” you say, reluctantly stopping your ogling to grab him a water from the fridge. Logan flicks his hands as he finishes washing them and takes the water from you. He leans against the counter across from you.

“How’s college treatin’ ya?” He inquires, watching as you feed James another piece of fruit.

“It’s okay, nothing special. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice school but it’s not like it’s Ivy League or anything,” you answer in a small shrug as you pop a blueberry into your own mouth. Logan can’t help but watch your lips and throat as you do so. His eyes shamelessly trained on you.

“Well atleast you got somethin’ going for ya,” Logan murmurs, finally looking away as he folds his arms over his chest. “Got a boyfriend waiting there too?” He asks. You give him a look. He chuckles. “Or a girlfriend.” Logan adds.

You just roll your eyes which contrasts the smile on your face. “Answers no to both,” you answer, watching James pluck the blueberry from your fingers. And Logan feels a little too happy to see that little smile on your face again.

“Really?” Logan replies, raising a brow in response. “Those little college kids to stupid to see what’s in front of em’ or something?”

You look over to him and see his little eyebrow raise, a quiet snort leaving you. “I don’t know. I just don’t talk to people like that. Hard to be seen when you’re acting invisible, y’know?” You say nonchalantly.

“Gotta put yourself out there one day, Bub,” Logan sighs. “Can’t keep comin’ back to this place and just hoping for it.” You watch him as he speaks and you can’t help the way your eyes repeatedly drop down to the soot on his muscles. You gotta get those stains off before you go nuts.

“It’s more of a choice than anything,” you tell him as you turn and grab a clean rag from one of the lower cabinets. Logan’s sharp eyes follow you as you move around the kitchen. “People there just don’t really “impress” me.” You add as you wet the rag with warm water.

“Oh, boys there ain’t good enough for you, huh?” Logan questions teasingly, that grin returning to his face. You step in front of him and hold out the damp rag to him. Logan silently gestures to his skin in response.

You swallow and suddenly, your heart is beating a million beats a minute. Your eyes fall from his to his chest and neck as you slowly reach the rag to his skin. “Nah,” you finally answer lowly as you begin to gently scrub at his skin. “All the way in university and still ain’t mature enough.” You mutter, watching the oil stains fade away under the rag.

Logan’s eyes are low as he looks down at you, his eyes trained on your face and lips as you speak and wipe him down. “Oh right, not mature enough f’ya,” Logan murmurs. “Need an older guy to take care of you… don’t ya?”

Your hand pauses on his chest and your eyes move back up to his. A swirl of desire and need mixing in his dark eyes. His gaze alone almost makes you shutter. “Yeah… think I do,” I say in a slightly hoarse whisper.

Not knowing what else to do, you let out a barely there breath and raise the rag, going to swipe at some of the stains on his cheeks. Your heart almost stops in your chest when he grabs your wrist instead. His other hand comes up to grab your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

“And what would your old man think about that, huh?” Logan questions lowly, his breath fanning your lips. You part your lips to answer but your words get caught in Logan’s rough lips. Your whole body tenses up for a moment before immediately melting into him.

You let him hold you, you let him push you back into the other counter behind you. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth, the taste of his earlier cigar still lingering. But it only serves to make you weaker. You groan into his mouth as his large hand suddenly slips from your wrist to your crotch, squeezing you through your sweatpants.

“School got you all pent up, yeah?” Logan asks in a huff of a breath as he just barely pulls away from your lips. Once again, he steals your lips before you can answer. Palming you through your sweatpants while his tongue explores every inch of your mouth.

He’s not wrong. It’s been just you and your hand for months now. And somehow Logan just barely touching you through your sweats is better than any night of you fucking your fist.

You can’t help but whine into his mouth when he pulls away, his hand running over your hips and waist instead. But the feeling of him pressing himself against you in his jeans quickly silences your whines. His half-erect cock grinding against your as he rolls his hips. Logan pulls back in a low groan, a thin shiny string of saliva connecting your kiss-swollen lips.

“Been thinking ‘bout you since winter, Bub. Y’know that? Pretty ass been on my mind for fucking months,” Logan says to you in a heavy breath as he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip. You just look up at him, still in slight shock at it all but your mind falling prey to the pleasure and want.

“What? You wanna do something about that?” You question quietly, your voice not matching your smug and suggestive words.

Logan smirks down at you a bit. “Damn right,” he answers, his hand on your chin shifting to your hair as he grabs a fistful of it and tilts your head to the side. His hips rolling against your again as he sinks his teeth into neck. His name falling from your lips in a whimper.

Your hand subconsciously falls to his belt, weakly trying to still his hips against yours which of course doesn’t work. Logan pulls his teeth from your neck while simultaneously guiding your hand down from his belt to the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Feel that, pretty boy? Feel what you’re doing t’me?” Logan mutters against your bruising skin. And you do feel him. A lot of him. It made you lose your breath further while shooting sparks of further arousal to your gut. “Wanna help me out, Bub? Little favor for changin’ your oil?” He requests as he sucks at your flesh, hungrily and greedily.

You move almost immediately to your knees. Breath shaking as he backs up just a bit to look down at you. A devilish grin covering his face. “Well, aren’t you just an obedient little thing,” he comments as one of his hands finds his belt, the other still in your hair.

Your heart pounding in your ears as you watch his belt unbuckle, as he unbuttons his jeans and zips them down. Your mouth damn-near watering as he tugs down his pants and boxers just enough for his dick to spring free. And oh, your jaw is going to be aching for hours.

“Look at you, all cock-thirsty. Nobody been givin’ you any attention, huh?” Logan says as he pumps himself a few times, gently guiding your head to his already leaking tip. He doesn’t have to ask before you part your lips. Maybe it was a little pathetic how quickly you dropped for him. But you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You let him sit himself on your tongue and he just basks in the view. A bit of his pre dripping onto the pink muscle. That sight alone pushed him further, pushing his hips forward until he was almost buried in your throat to the hilt. “Damn, pretty boy, you done this before or something?” Logan groans before he’s moving.

His hand in your hair keeping your head still as he begins fucking your throat. You try to keep the tears from glossing up in your eyes as he hits the back of your throat but you can’t. He doesn’t mind.

“Fuck, how has nobody claimed this perfect throat yet? Taking me so fucking well,” Logan grunts, staring right down into your glossy eyes. You let out a choked whimper around him in reply, the vibrations of the sound going straight to Logan’s cock, making his eyes fall shut as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Right, can’t answer with your mouth full of dick, can you?”

Another muffled whimper which results in him tugging on your hair. “Guess your old man was wrong, huh?” Logan pants over the sound of his balls lewdly hitting your chin, a mix of his pre and your own drool slicking the skin. “You did learn to do somethin’ useful. Damn good cock-sucker.”

Your hands hold onto his thighs as he repeatedly stuffs your face to the hilt, his fat tip kissing the back of your throat. Your nails dig into his skin through his jeans only for his eyes to roll in response. A hoarse and gruff “oh fuck” slipping through his teeth. “Been doing this for those college boys? That how you brought your little grade back up?” Logan questions roughly as he looks down to you.

Such a pretty sight you are. Eyes watering, lashes glistening, mouth full, and your lips a wet mess of your fluids.

“Mmm,” your denial doesn’t leave as words, just muffled choked sounds. A small smirk grows on Logan’s face.

“No? Ain’t that a shocker. You’d— shit— you’d make some good fucking money. Sucking cock for cash, clearly doesn't take much to get you to anyways,” Logan says, almost taunting you with his words. Taunting how fast you got on your knees for him.

You can only respond by pressing your tongue flaccid against his cock, feeling his veins pulse over the muscle. Only for him to tug on your hair when you swirl your tongue over his tip. “Fine by me,” Logan says, his voice breaking into a breathy moan. “Pretty little throat is all mine.”

You feel your own hard-on twitch in your pants at that. The idea of being all his. Even if it’s just for the summers and winters. Logan doesn’t miss the way you take him in more greedily, the way you keep letting him glide across your tongue, the way your breathing just barely steadies when you finally find a rhythm.

“Yeah? You like that idea, Bub? Being all mine?” Logan says strained, the snap of his hips growing sloppy and stuttering. All you can do is let out a muffled groan around him, staring up at him with your big eyes as the tears finally slip over. They only worsen their streams as Logan pushes your head down, giving you hardly any room to breathe as his cock twitches and he cums down your throat.

He doesn’t let you go until you’re digging your nails into his thighs again and he finally lets go of your hair. You pull away and practically gasp for the breath you lost. Coughing and heaving and sniffling as dribbles of his release rolling down your chin, followed by your tears.

“You okay down there, Bub? Too much?” Logan asks as he chases his own breath.

“No, no, i—i'm okay,” you manage to get out as you wipe at the tears and your slick chin. Logan’s low eyes drop to the tent in your sweatpants between your legs. His eyes then pull back up to yours.

“What time does your old man get off?”

[sinsofsummers]

keep quiet

1.3k words | logan x fem!reader

summary: logan can smell how much you need him as soon as you enter the room. what kind of man would he be to let you go unsatisfied? warnings: all smut. literally nothing else. dom!logan, he's kind of mean, hint of a humiliation kink, hair pulling (m receiving, logan asks for it), the cat ears get a lot of love, oral (f receiving), fingering, pure filth. if i miss anything pls let me know. note: andddd i was trying to write a full length fic. i ended up here instead. it's so rushed i apologize. pls logan let me give u a full litter.

He can smell it on you as soon as you walk into the room, and you can see the switch in his body language almost immediately. His shoulders tense, and his hands twitch into loose fists. His jaw ticks. 

You’re meeting Logan at a party. He’s been there for a bit already, but you came late. You can’t even remember what the party is, what it’s for, or who’s there. You can only see him. The way he’s got his thighs spread, one foot propped up on the coffee table in front of him, leaving a wide — and perfect — spot for you on his lap. Just like always, Logan’s dripping in sex appeal.

You’ve already been having…a day. All you want and need is his touch, his tongue, his everything. But here you are, trying to keep it a quiet afterthought as you stare at his lap, wishing you could put your lips over his cock and let it grow in the warmth of your mouth.

“Hey,” you say breathily, the syllable hardly leaving your mouth before Logan’s on his feet.

You can’t even register who else is in the room; his broad chest already blocks your vision and he drags you down a hallway, into the laundry room not far from the earshot of the living room.

You’re pretty sure the other party guests share an awkward chuckle at what they think is about to occur, but you can’t tell. Logan’s cologne is all over you, and you think you might slip your own hand into your panties if he doesn’t give you what you want right now.

“Here,” he snarls, “gimme these.” He’s got you shoved up against the washer, the perfect height to sit atop the cool metal.

He grabs your wrists roughly and shoves them into his hair. His teeth are gritted menacingly, but you’re practically keening at the sight of it. You know what’s about to follow. He can be cruel when he’s like this, but you know you’re about to get what you want.

“Now,” he hisses, leaning close to your face. “You’re gonna keep quiet. You’ve already made it obvious enough how fuckin’ desperate you are.”

You whine softly, and his eyes darken. “I wasn’t even here for more than—”

“No, no, no,” he growls. “None of that.” He lets go of one of your wrists, reaching up to squeeze your cheeks together in one hand, hard enough to make the heat rise in your face. 

He likes to see you like this — humiliated.

“You’re gonna keep quiet,” he repeats. “Anytime you wanna make a noise, you’re gonna pull.” 

He uses the hand still locked onto your wrist as a demonstration. His eyes are hard, and his mouth is still pulled back in that scowl that makes your core weep. 

“Pull hard, pup. You know I can take it.”

You try to squeeze your thighs together at the nickname, but he’s standing between your opened legs. It’s so animalistic, so filthy. You never last long when he’s like this.

But all you can see in front of you is Logan, his cruel face just a centimeter from yours.

You lean closer, wanting a kiss, but he denies you as he moves his hands to your hips, digging roughly under the hem of your shirt to unbutton your pants and yank them to your ankles. He lifts your legs so he can slip closer to your core, your legs resting atop his strong shoulders. 

Any other day, he might have teased you, might have drawn out your orgasm until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. But this Logan isn’t playing around. He doesn’t have time for this, as he’s made clear enough. 

Only in moments like this does he make your desire feel like an inconvenience, like he’s mad at you for being so desperate for his touch. Such a dumb little pup, huh? 

But as soon as he sinks his nose into your pussy and inhales the scent of your desire straight from the source, you know he needs this just as badly. That his every thought is plagued with the reminder that your pussy ruins every pair of panties you own because of him.

His tongue goes to work quickly; he’s brutal in his ministrations, and you tighten your grip in his hair. 

Bless these fucking cowlicks, you think. Or you might have, had you any mind to form coherent thoughts. 

“Insatiable,” he takes a breath and rolls his eyes as he looks up at you, but the sight of your wetness on his beard and nose takes away the exasperation. You can see how his pupils are blown wide.

You open your mouth to let out a moan, but he grunts. “No,” he demands. “Pull.”

So you do. Hard. Your hands card through the rest of his head of thick hair as he dives back to your clit, swirling tight circles around the sensitive bud, practically drinking your arousal right out of you. 

Your abdomen tightens, and you know he’s going for speed over anything at this point. He wants to get you off, and do it fast. You claw at his head, and relish in the deep groans that vibrate through your slick folds like an electric shock. 

“Logan,” you whisper, “I’m—”

“Yeah, yeah. I fuckin’ know, you dumb slut.”

Your eyes widen and you see white at the edges of your vision, your mouth hanging open as you catch some of his shoulder under your nails, dragging your hands across his skin. 

If anything, it spurs him on more. Two of his fingers play at your entrance, and — the mean fucker — he shoves them into your pussy without caring to stretch you out like he normally does. 

But it doesn’t matter. He knows you can take it. The stretch is something you chase, something you cherish every time. You reward him with a particularly strong yank on his hair, afraid you might pull it out of his skull.

He starts to let out a groan so loud it might come off as a roar, but then he catches himself and pistons his fingers in and out of you, his dark eyes lifting to hold onto you as he shoves you over the edge and into a leg-shaking orgasm.

Your hands twist in his hair and you just barely hear the high-pitched whine that falls from his lips. It’s almost feline coming from him.

Logan sits still for a second, his eyes still on you as he laps at your pussy softly, an amused smirk on his face when you shiver at the overstimulation. 

Finally he stands, feeding his fingers to you, nodding as he watches you lick your ecstasy off his digits.

You catch your breath, still feeling wobbly. Your eyes catch on the bulge in his jeans, and you reach a tired hand for his belt.

He chuckles, and it’s almost like he’s mocking you. “Oh, you wanna help me out, sweet pea?”

“Yes, please.” You hope you sound coherent, like you’re apologizing for not being able to make him feel good yet, but you can’t even keep your eyes on him. The treat in his jeans is too tempting. Your tongue absentmindedly darts out to wet your lips.

Logan lifts your chin roughly with one hand, forcing you to look at him. His hair is wild, and you bite your lip at the sight of how disheveled you’ve made him. 

His beard still shines with your release as he shakes his head. “Should have thought of that before you showed up like you did. Can’t control yourself, even in public.” He pulls you to your feet and helps you pull your pants back on. His roughness starts to subside, and left behind is the gentle giant that you recognize.

“You’re gonna wait til we get home,” he says with a gentle kiss to your forehead. But you don’t ignore the tension in his promise that follows: “Then you’re repaying me, bub.”

-

ANYWAYS! i'm crying like a bitch in heat for this man feel free to send me any and all thoughts u have on logan pls

see u for the next one! i hope u enjoyed :)

[cxffeereid]

“Little did she know I’m a nasty dog”

[mandowifey]

I just wanna add my two cents in because I have been a fan boy of X-men since the movie came out in 2000.

- - - (Blurb) - - -

Logan Howlett x Reader

- - -

Logan is the type to mark you with his smell. Whether you are aware of it or not, he touches and squeezes you in places to leave his scent on your person.

I think it's really easy to forget that his heightened sense of smell is so precise, he could find you in a crowd of people.

In that same breath, if you returned to him and he smelled another on you, it would prod the beastial instincts deep in the back of his brain. Lots of "Who were you with?" Or "Do I know him?" Layered with thick sarcasm barely concealing the jealousy he felt.

Afterwards, he'd fist a hand into your hair and grip the base tight, forcing your head back so his nose could glide over the swell of your throat. You'd hear his lungs swell with your scent, followed by the sting of teeth.

He knows you'd be mad, but you didn't regenerate like he did. So you'd be sporting his bitemark on your throat for a few days. While you flick him off when you catch him admiring it, he'd smirk and return the gesture, saying "I know you like it, kid." Before taking a sip of his beer.

And he'd be right, as he always was.

[a1yaaaa]

thinking abt using logan howlett's lil kitty-ear hair tufts as handlebars (nsfw)........

in truth, it's hard not to while he's fully making out with your pussy, eating it up like a man starved; suckling your clit, flicking & massaging the spit-slicked bud.

anyhow, logan adores having his hair pulled, tugged on harshly by your soft fingers, as you whimper & writhe under his desperate ministrations. the sharp sting of pain at his scalp each time your hands want him closer - further - only has him groaning into your juicy folds, rutting his painfully hard cock into the mattress.

still, it usually doesn't stop you from apologizing through little gasps & mewls, shaky hands fussing and smoothing down the supple, brown strands of his hair guiltily. yet, all this really does is prove to logan that - if your brain's still capable of worrying? - your pussy must need a few more earth-shattering orgasms.

his large, warm hands will only run up your thighs reassuringly in response, bending your legs further and spreading them wider for him - a vocal lover by nature, he'd normally have rumbled with a cocky grin, "what, don't wanna hurt me, princess? afraid i'll like it?", or maybe even moaned, "fuck that, baby... use your hands, put me right where you want me," though right now? nothing's pulling his mouth away from this delicious fucking cunt of yours.

you do eventually get the message though, and its heaven for him - manicured nails clawing at his nape, fingers grasping handfuls of his hair and shoving his face right into the intoxicating scent of your arousal. the thrill of the pain mixes with the intoxication which comes from hearing and tasting your honeyed pleasure. it's all enough to have his pretty, forest-hued eyes rolling back into his head and his dick leaking pre onto the sheets.

in the end, you just might be able to force his mouth off your abused, oversensitive pussy once he's pulled at least two or three orgasms from you - of course, only after he's licked your hole clean from all the juices you've gushed for him.

it's after the fact - after logan has pounded whatever remaining energy you had left right out of your pretty self - as his thick arms cradle you against his warm, fuzzy chest, his dick still half-hard against your hip, that you let your digits explore his earthy strands once more.

this time, it's softer, delicate - he watches you through heavy, loving eyes as you fiddle with his sweaty, mussed-up hair, carefully carding it back into a pair of kitty-like tufts. "mm, there's my man," you hum with a pleased lil giggle.

his laugh joins yours - quiet & rumbling - big hands rubbing up your sides with affection, "really oughta get you this blissed out more often, babydoll..."

[applepiewinchesters]

Doomed (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

Summary: The arrival of two new mutants at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters brings some excitement to an otherwise normal day, particularly for you, Scott Summers’ sister. When you meet Logan and his cocky attitude, you soon realize you may be crushing on the new guy.

Word Count: 2,988

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was never one to turn away a lost mutant, even if they weren’t what was considered a “youngster”.

There were excited whispers all over the school about the two mutants who had been brought to the mansion late last night. One of them, Rogue, was already becoming acclimated, attending classes. You’d had the pleasure of meeting her when she joined your English class.

The other, a man, was still unconscious in Jean’s lab, having taken a nasty beating shortly before being rescued. You had tried to sneak down there during the students’ lunch break but your brother, Scott, had stopped you.

“We don’t know if this guy is dangerous,” Scott had sighed, dragging you away from the lower level entrance.

You pulled your arm from his grasp, “Scott, I’m a grown woman, and we’re the same age, I can take care of myself.”

Scott rolled his eyes which were hidden behind his sunglasses, “I don’t care I don’t want you getting hurt!”.

“Oh but Jean can be by herself?,” you argued,” She’d let me be down there with her!”.

“I’m not Jean, so get over it,” Scott said but turning and heading down the long hallway.

You’d flipped him off while his back was turned before stalking back to your classroom and waiting for the break to be over. All the while your mind on the mysterious man downstairs. You hadn’t even got to catch a glimpse of him when he and Rogue had arrived. He was whisked away for aid and you were tasked with making Rogue comfortable.

Charles felt you would be able to make the younger girl feel safe, she’d seemed a bit shaken up but it was nothing a hot drink couldn’t fix. You answered any questions she had while sitting at the kitchen table. Charles ended up being right in the end, he always was.

It was a bit later in the afternoon when you saw Scott run past your classroom door. You were grading a couple essays and your eyebrows knit together as you quickly stood, heading to the doorway.

You poked your head out the doorway, calling to your brother at the end of the hall, “What happened!?.”

“The other mutant, he woke up and attacked Jean, he’s somewhere in the mansion! Stay there!” Scott called back.

Nodding you walked back into the room, wondering if you should just stay there or risk running into the man.

It seemed fate decided for you when a man with dark hair dressed in black pants and what you recognized as gray zip up hoodie from the school slipped inside your classroom. You couldn’t help but notice the chest hair peeking out from the top of the jacket. He was barefoot and his hazel eyes darted around the room, quickly landing on you.

You couldn’t help but back up slightly at the intensity of his gaze, he looked confused and totally pissed at the same time.

Deciding to press your luck a little further you lifted your hands in mock surrender, “Slow your roll bucko, there’s kids here, don’t get crazy,” you reasoned.

“Where am I?” the man asked, ignoring your attempt at being somewhat humorous, probably partly deserved.

“Westchester, New York,” came a calm voice from behind the man, making him turn.

Charles was there, looking expectantly at the intruder. “More specially, a school, my school, I see you’ve met one of my brilliant teachers,” Charles explained.

You cracked a smile at the compliment, putting your hands down, “Flattery will get you nowhere, you know that.”

“I can always try,” Charles commented.

“What the fuck is going on?” the man asked, his voice was rough, almost a growl as he interrupted your conversation.

“Logan, please, calm down, come with me,” Charles spoke. Without another word he turned in his wheelchair, leaving the room and heading in the direction of his office.

The man, Logan, as Charles had called him, turned to you, almost for what seemed like clarification.

You only shrugged, motioning for him to leave the room as well. When he eventually did you followed, excited to finally be in on the big secret that’s been sleeping all day.

Arriving in Charles’ office you plopped down into one of the chairs in front of the large desk after shutting the wooden doors behind the three of you.

“Would you like some food?” Charles asked Logan, who stood close to the door, eyeing the room warily.

“Why am I here?” Logan asked, answering with a question of his own.

“You were attacked. My people brought you here for medical attention,” Charles explained.

“I don’t need medical attention,” Logan replied.

“Of course not,” you found yourself saying, looking up at Logan.

He glared slightly at you before smirking, “What’s your name sweetheart?” he asked, his chest puffed out a little, hands behind his back, he was cocky to say the least.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” you teased, but stood from your seat regardless. “I’m Y/N, Y/N Summers.”

You held out your hand to shake and he took it, his hand was large and warm, his grip a little tight. “Logan,” he told you, “but you’re welcome to call me anything you like.”

“How about dickhead?”.

Introductions were interrupted by Scott throwing open the office doors, almost immediately taking a protective stance by your side.

“Logan this is Scott Summers, also called Cyclops,” Charles spoke, you watched as your brother gave Logan a rather firm handshake.

“Any relation?” Logan asked you, motioning to Scott.

“Twins, unfortunately,” you answered, throwing an arm around your brother to let him know were, of course, just kidding.

Logan looked almost shocked, “Wouldn’t have guessed.”

“And why is that?” Scott challenged, attempting to take a step forward but you gripped the back of his jacket.

“Well she’s…,” Logan trailed off, glancing over to you and giving you a quick wink, “and you’re, well, the sunglasses don’t do you much justice bub let’s just say that,” Logan smirked.

“Watch your f-,” Scott started but was thankfully interrupted by Ororo striding in.

You caught yourself smiling at Logan’s remark, and felt your face heat up slightly when you noticed Logan was staring at you.

Charles ignored the previous interaction, moving on with introductions,“This is Ororo Munroe, also called Storm, Ororo this is Logan.”

The two shook hands without any issue, Scott stayed planted by your side, always the overprotective sibling you never wanted.

“Where’s the girl?” Logan asked once he and Ororo shook hands.

“She’s here, she’s fine,” you spoke up, flashing Logan a reassuring smile, his gaze lingered on you a second more than it should have.

“We brought you here to keep you safe from Magneto,” Charles explained.

“What’s a magneto?” Logan asked.

“A very powerful mutant, who believes a war is brewing,” Charles answered, “I’ve been following his activities for quite some time. The man who attacked you is an associate of his called Sabertooth.”

“Sabertooth?” Logan asked, practically rolling his eyes, “She’s Storm. He’s Cyclops. What do they call you? Wheels?”.

His question was directed at Charles and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, quickly clamping a hand over your mouth.

Charles let it slide as Logan made his way towards the door, “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said.

Scott moved to block Logan’s way.

“You wanna get out of my way?” Logan asked, stepping closer to Scott who didn’t budge.

“Logan, it’s been almost fifteen years, hasn’t it?” Charles interrupted, making Logan turn away from your brother. “Living from day to day, moving from place to place, with no memory of who or what you are.”

“Shut up!” Logan growled, fingers curling into fists.

“Give me a chance,” Charles tried again, “I may be able to help you find some answers.”

Without another word Charles wheeled out of the room.

“Where’s he going?” Logan asked, looking to you.

You only smiled and motioned for him to follow, and after a moment he did, reluctantly.

That left you, Ororo, and Scott alone in the office. Scott stepped towards you and away from the door.

“What was that?” he seethed.

“What was what?” you replied, “I can’t be nice to a man who’s obviously had a pretty shit roll of the dice recently?”.

“Not that one,” Scott argued.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Oh like we were perfect when we first got here, remember when you shot that huge hole in the roof?”.

“He’s not a kid, Y/N! He attacked Jean when he woke up, I already said I don’t want anything happening to you!” Scott told you.

Ororo was quick to leave the room during your little argument, she hated yours and Scott’s sibling spats, and today was not a day she wanted to be in the middle of one.

“Charles trusts him so I do too,” you replied.

Scott groaned, throwing his hands up, “Fine, whatever.”

You sighed, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder, “I know you care, okay? And I love that you do but I’ll be fine, got it?”.

Scott only nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you from the office. The two of you met Jean in the hallway, who looked fine despite her surprise attack.

“Met our new mutant?” she asked you, taking Scott’s hand.

You smiled and nodded, “He’s…funny.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Scott mumbled. Jean placed a kiss on his cheek, making him perk up a bit.

“Your sister can take care of herself Scott,” Jean teased, pulling him away from you.

You heard Scott begin to argue as Jean directed him down the hall, she threw a quick wink over her shoulder at you before they disappeared around the corner. Jean always had your back and you loved her for it.

Heading the opposite way of your brother and Jean, you made your way towards the gardens where most of the kids were playing.

There was a basketball court, lots of places to run as well as sit and just enjoy the day. It really was beautiful. You’d arrived there some while ago and even since you’ve been at the school it’s expanded. Charles wasted no expense making sure everyone felt at home.

When you made it outside you saw Charles and Logan talking, when the older man noticed you he waved you over. You obliged, crossing the grass, making sure to be wary of a few kids playing tag.

“Need me?” you asked when you reached the two men.

“Would you please show Logan to his room?” Charles asked you.

You nodded, “Of course! Come on.”

Logan followed you without a fight, maybe his talk with Charles helped. Once inside you climbed the stairs to the second floor which held student’s and teacher’s dorms.

Walking past a few doors you stopped in front of the one you knew to be empty, grabbing the door knob and pushing it open.

“This is where you’ll be staying, there is a bathroom so you won’t need to go looking for one,” you spoke, entering the room, Logan following behind you.

“Umm, food is served downstairs but you’re always welcome to eat up here, if there’s any food you like specifically we can buy it,” you found yourself rambling a bit, “I’m sensing you’re a steak on the raw side kind of guy.”

This made Logan chuckle, “What makes you say that?”.

You shrugged, “Your…vibe? And those dog tags around your neck say Wolverine.”

Logan looked down, seeming to notice the dog tags then, he quickly put them inside the jacket.

“So do you have some kind of…dog mutation?” you asked, almost cringing at your words.

This didn’t seem to faze him though, he only laughed again, he seemed less tense than before, even stepping a bit closer to you.

“No, I’m not a dog, I…,” Logan trailed off, and you jumped a bit when three sharp, long blades extended from his left fist.

“I get it now,” you said when you found your voice again, watching the claws retreat back into Logan’s knuckles. “Jean is probably going to make you come back down to the lab, figure out exactly why you have…well, that.”

Logan nodded, “So, do you have a silly code name too or is it just Y/N?”. He quirked up an eyebrow at you, making you smile a bit.

“Roulette,” you answered.

“Oh?” Logan asked, seeming to be intrigued.

“I can switch people’s mutations at will, I could make Scott have your claws and you have his laser eyes, but it’s temporary, so far the longest I’ve been able to make it last is a few hours and that’s been with years of training,” you explained, “It’s tricky, but, ya know, I’m stuck with it.”

“That’s…that’s really amazing,” Logan told you truthfully, making you blush.

“It’s nothing really, sometimes it does more harm than good,” you said, brushing off the compliment.

“Don’t we all?” Logan asked you, making you meet his gaze again.

He was closer to you now, your chests almost touching. You were interrupted by a quick knock on the door frame.

Scott.

“Jean wants him downstairs again,” Scott said, leaning against the door, no doubt glaring at Logan behind his glasses. “I’ll take you.”

Logan rolled his eyes, “Whatever you say bub.”

You glared at your brother before turning back to Logan, “I’ll see you later, and I’m two doors down, if you ever need anything.”

Giving Logan another smile you turned, leaving the room, bumping your shoulder against Scott’s, mumbling a “Be nice,” to him before heading to your own room.

Logan turned to Scott then, cocking his head, “You gonna tell me to stay away from your sister?”.

Scott stood up straight, folding his hands behind his back, “I shouldn’t have to.”

“I think she can make her own decisions,” Logan argued, stalking towards the other man. “Seems like a smart girl.”

“She is,” Scott replied, turning away from Logan to begin their decent down to the lower levels, “that’s why I trust that she’ll see you for what you really are soon enough.”

“Oh and what’s that?” Logan asked, beginning to follow Scott down the hall.

“Another asshole that will break her heart in a week,” Scott said, turning around to face Logan.

“Then you must not be that smart,” Logan smirked, “maybe take some pointers from your sister.”

A loud crack out in the hall made you stick your head out of your bedroom, and you saw Scott and Logan. Scott was cradling his fist, a string of curses leaving his mouth. Logan turned to look at you, shrugging and sending you a wink.

You rolled your eyes. Men.

“Come on you two,” you sighed, heading towards them. “Jean can wrap up your hand while he gets scanned.”

“Scanned?” Logan asked as you steered your still cursing twin towards the stairs.

“It’s an MRI really, nothing to worry about,” you reassured. Logan seemed a bit hesitant but nodded and followed.

Scott kept quiet the whole way after his cursing ended, his pride more hurt than his hand. When you reached the lab you pushed your brother towards his girlfriend.

“White Knight over here needs a bandage,” you joked, and Logan snorted a bit.

Jean sighed and nodded, “Take off your shirt and lay over there,” she directed Logan towards the large machine in the corner while Scott sat on another table.

You grabbed a first aid kit and handed it to Jean while Logan unzipped his jacket, tossing it onto a work station along with his dog tags.

He was, to put it lightly, ripped. You could already tell even with the jacket on, but seeing him with it off was enough to make you stare.

When he eventually caught you, you looked away, letting him climb up on the table while you directed your attention back to Scott and Jean.

Jean was wrapping his hand in gauze, “A sprain,” she mouthed to you over Scott’s shoulder and you nodding, smiling.

Turning back to Logan you walked to the edge of the table, he looked up at you and smirked.

“See something you like?” he asked, making you laugh and shake your head.

“I think that’s enough with the flirting for today lover boy,” you said, patting his arm. “I’ve gotta go help with dinner.”

Logan seemed a bit disappointed but nodded as you turned away from him.

“See you both later,” you told Jean and Scott as you made your way towards the door.

Jean nodded and Scott kept his head down, confirming his ego was more bruised than anything.

When you were out of sight of the three of them you took a minute to lean against the cold metal walls of the lower level, taking a deep breath.

Logan was going to be the death of you, you could already see that, but whether in a good or bad way you couldn’t quite tell yet.

After a second you pushed off the wall and headed back upstairs, joining Ororo and a few older students in the kitchen to help prepare dinner.

You stood beside Ororo, cutting vegetables, your mind wandering to Logan, him lying on that table…

Ororo nudged you just in time to keep you from slicing your finger open.

“Sorry,” you said, face heating up.

“Distracted?” she asked, giving you a knowing look.

“No!” you answered too quickly.

Ororo patted your shoulder as she moved to the other side of you to grab a knife, “Whatever you say kid.”

The rest of the night was spent trying to convince everyone, including yourself, that you were not crushing on the new guy.

But when you were headed to bed that night and Logan stopped you in the hall outside his room to thank you for the help and wish you goodnight, you knew you were doomed.

[charlesxavierthirster3000]

Burdened — L. Howlett

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Summary: Based on this request!!!!

CW/Tags: not proofread bc I literally finished this at 5am 😭, Logan is an ASS, a lot lot of feelings, lowk heavy angst I THINK, no use of Y/N, don't like don't read.

A/N: @rambosgirl Ily girlie I really enjoyed writing this :33 I AM SO INSANELY SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG !!!!!!! Also while writing the ending of this my Spotify Smart Shuffle fucking played First Love/Late Spring by Mitski and I swear it knows how fitting it is bro wtaf ok LAST statement but like this is my first 1K+ word fic are you guys proud of me :33 I'm starting this at like 3am so don't bully me if the ending doesnt' make sense ok byeeeeeeeee

WC: 1.6K (get comfy guys) / Navigation

It was unnecessarily irritating. And frankly really, really fucked up.

Anytime you turned your back from a seemingly butterfly-inducing interaction with Logan, you found him all over Jean as if he wasn’t just chatting you up four minutes ago.

Jean Grey was—from what you’ve surveyed over your time at the mansion—not really phased, despite her somewhat established relationship with Scott. She was intelligent and good-natured, flashing you sickeningly sweet smiles in the corridors and occasionally complimenting your outfits as if hers weren’t twice as stunning.

But every time you spotted Logan gazing down at her with the look you thought he’d reserved for your eyes only, the image of perfection the redheaded telepath had materialised in front of you dissipated like a glass of ice left to liquefy under the scorching sun.

Because she never pushed him away, and she was so clearly inevitably attracted, whether she displayed it or not. It was virtually written all across her sharp features, and you knew the same was scripted all over your own when speaking to Logan.

That dip your heart made every time you saw the two’s chemistry from afar; it wasn't just blatant jealousy. 

It was deeper.

It was nastier.

It clung to your insides like a weight you couldn't possibly shake off. The constant sense that you were just a swift distraction, a momentary diversion from the real object of his desire. 

It ate you up from the inside out and exhausted you to no end.

When Storm or Rogue cautiously approached you and tried to console you, you shrugged it off as if it was some uncomplicated highschool sweetheart drama. They knew damn well it wasn’t. Your conflicting feelings for Logan were gradually making you lose yourself— your well-built dignity. You were slowly but surely morphing into someone you didn’t even recognise. Someone who accepted being second best without any contemplation.

All for a man who was immortal. All for someone who presumably considered you a fleeting paragraph in his primitive life while he was an entire novel in yours.

You wanted— needed to locate yourself in the vast body of water which was your feelings. You needed your sense of self-worth to reappear by a miracle, nevertheless, you knew it would take immense time and exertion to track it back down.

But in a wretched attempt to do so, you settled on a fairly elaborate plan and started disregarding each one of Logan’s advances. Suddenly, you conveniently had somewhere else to be every time he approached, you pulled back and overlooked his easy smiles along with the playful banter you practically used to feed off of.

At first, it felt as if you were reclaiming some of your power, spotting his perplexed looks in your peripheral vision as you wandered off to God knows where. But of course, everything you did came back to bite you in the ass. If anything, it only made the truth clearer. He barely even noticed, and if he did, he didn’t give a single shit.

And Jean? She remained unbothered, untouchable— flawless, even. You were the mastermind of this whole game, yet you were the only one losing.

After a particularly humiliating stretch of witnessing Logan and Jean’s shared giggles and stolen looks from across the table, you ultimately found your resolve. Alcohol really was liquid courage, because after a few drinks and several stabs of food, you closed in on them lounging on the couch post-meal. 

Logan’s bare arm was extended across the back of the grimy cushions behind Jean like some kind of cheesy rom-com, cowlicks a prominent silhouette against the weak flickering of the television. But no matter how much you resented them— her, you would never even come by the opportunity to be in the redhead’s position.

“Howlett,” you enunciated, voice sharp enough to slice through the ambient noise like a shard of glass.

Howlett. No other soul could call him that without repercussions. Aside from you. That was why you felt so unique, so distinct from the others, that was the crumb of specialty you were desperately clinging on to.

He shifts to glance over his shoulder, a spark of recognition igniting within him at the sound of your voice—not missing the shred of urgency concealed beneath it. “Hm? What's up?”

You hesitate with your next words, intently but subtly taking in his scruffy features in the dimmed lighting for what felt like it could be the final time. Because after this, you knew for a fact neither one of you could view each other in the same way. You were the one who let him under your skin, you were the one who had to tear him out, and it unfortunately was an agonisingly slow process.

“We need to talk.”

Four words. Yet, it still gave you the sensation of several weights placed upon your back; the unavoidable impending argument, manipulation spat right into your face, and the most dreaded of all, how circumstances would be after tonight.

His expression stiffened mildly as he reluctantly got up from the couch, aged leather groaning beneath his weight. The sensation of Jean abruptly invading the back of your mind was extremely unsettling and even though she appeared unphased, she, without a question, detected your abnormal uneasiness and was gingerly flicking through your thoughts.

Which was apprehensive, to say the least.

Logan fell into step with you as you departed from one of the many doddering living rooms, proceeding to a more secluded space nearing the obnoxious stairs in front of the grand entryway, mansion almost bizarrely silent with all the kids asleep. Jean wasn’t in your head anymore, but she undoubtedly already knew your objectives to the script.

You halted and so did Logan, weight finding its position set upon the auburn wood of the stairs. 

He eyed you with undivided attention. Your stomach threatened to do a fucking flip despite the conditions, the look nearly making you scrap all of this and go right back to being his side piece regardless of the anguish it put your mind through. But you dug your heels in, the clearing of your throat echoing sharply off the vacant walls.

You square your shoulders and tilt your chin up boldly, aiming to stand your ground. “What the hell am I to you? Because from what I see and a whole lot of other people do, I’m just an afterthought. Filler for the gaps Jean left open. Care to elaborate on that, Howlett?” 

He sighed, glancing at the wall behind you as if he was already fed up. “It’s not like that, bub. You’re makin’ it bigger than it is.”

Your blood scorched at the casual dismissal. Your voice inevitably rose but doesn’t go over a whisper, “Don’t patronise me, Logan,” you scoff. “I’m not some stupid kid with a stupid crush, so don’t let your ego get out of hand. I’ve watched you get all up on her, and then come to me when she’s got a class. Do you even fucking hear yourself?” 

His jaw stiffened, his own frustration growing. “You really think it’s that easy? I never asked you to get involved. You know how it is with me and her. You don’t get how fucked my life is, it’s your own fuckin’ fault things got messy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go sulk somewhere else, I don’t give a shit how crappy your life is. It doesn’t take much to be a decent fucking human!— mutant, whatever. I’m not gonna let you come crying to me when things don’t work out with Jean. I’m worth more than that. You can’t see that, it’s your damn problem, not mine.”

He was visibly trying to find his footing, and you took it as an opportunity to carry on, “It’s not my fault this got sloppy. You can’t just invite a woman for a nice drive and end up throwing her out the door a moment later. You knew damn well what you were doing to m—” 

“You don’t know what I gotta deal with every day. It’s difficult. I never wanted it to get like this. You were the one overthinkin’ it.”

You shook your head forcefully, exasperation boiling over. “I don’t give a fuck, Logan— stop hiding behind that, you don’t even remember half of your damn life! It’s not messy, it’s cruel. I’ve had my own trouble, but I don’t use it as an excuse to hurt people who care about me. Don’t put all of it on my back.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but you cut him off. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. I’ve dealt with you for half my time here. I’ve had enough of your bullshit.” A flash of remorse graced his eyes but it didn’t do a thing. 

“I’m not your backup plan. I’m not waiting for you to look at me the way you look at Jean. I deserve someone who doesn’t just act like they give a shit. I’ve made my choice and you’ve made yours. I’m done. Goodnight, Howlett.”

With a harsh turn of your heel, you walked away with a heavy heart. But your head was clear for the first time in months, your shoulders were lighter, and the clarity you felt nearly blew your veins out. It would be painstakingly tough to face him tomorrow morning, but you knew you would get over it eventually.

Also i just realised in the morning Washing Machine Heart works WAYYy better but it's whatever I guess 😮‍💨

[heart--of--gold]

imagine being a photographer/journalist and finding out about this cage fighter, The Wolverine. Let's say this cage fighting stuff isn't your thing and you only went because your friend invited you and promised there was a good meal and booze, and he caught your interest. He didn't lose a single fight that night and he was just the perfect thing to write about for your next entry.

Imagine pulling out your little polaroid camera in the midst of one of the fights during your next visit, imagine steadying your hold as you focus on the Wolverine and his opponent, and pressing the button with a simple click.

Imagine the Wolverine taking a direct hit to the face because he's distracted by the flash.

Imagine when your photo develops, you're greeted with an image of Wolverine staring directly at you.

[winchester-with-wings]

Training Room Tension (Wolverine x f!Reader, smut)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!reader

Summary: Training is just another form of foreplay between you and Logan. That's why no one trains with you guys anymore. It's just awkward.

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut with a hint of sappy love and security at the end, dirty talk, taunting, unprotected sex, biting, spanking, rough sex, Rest In Piece(s) to your undergarments hehe, takes place in the X-Mansion, reader is some type of invulnerable mutant like Logan.

Word count: 2400

Author's Note: First time writing in forever! Praise be to "Deadpool & Wolverine" for bringing back my love and lust for Hugh Jackman. Wolverine in particular is one of my first loves. Shout out to by Bitchachos for reassuring me this obsession was okay. Love you guys! Thanks for reading and thanks to @pagesofivy for the title suggestion! I'm picturing older, thicker Logan from the 70s cuz of that mirror scene iykyk. But also love these XMen gifs. Ah hell I can't pick a favorite. He has aged sooooo well.

Hope people enjoy this and please don't be afraid to let me know! Words of Affirmation is my love language. LOL

I made a wolverine sideblog too because I want to reblog everything Logan and D&W related hehe ----> @feral4wolverine

Mobile Masterlist

The team rarely trains with you and Logan in the same room anymore. For a good reason too. Sure, in short exercises, they can manage you guys. You're both part of the team after all, but the longer training scenarios, they'll make do without. They just know their feral, indestructible teammates will do their part in the real world fights.

Because as much as Logan admires your strength and determination...he also cannot stand it. You're stubborn. You're defiant. You're a tease and he can't take it anymore.

“You’re slowing down, babe, and pulling your punches,” you tease, dodging his swing and sweeping his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with a loud thud. He rolls over, grabbing your ankle before you can get back up. He drags you along the mats as he stands. “Ah, nonono!” you laugh, your arms waving and trying to get a grip on the floor. You get your other foot under you and turn yourself over trying to kick or hook your leg around his neck to take him down.

It doesn’t work this time but at least he lets go of your foot. Back on even ground, you’re swapping blows, punches, and blocks. You curse almost as much as he grunts.

"Run that pretty little mouth one more time," he growls, his arms interlocked with yours as he blocks your attack again.

"Or what, old man?" You push back, breaking his hold, your skin is slick with sweat and it gives you an advantage over Logan…in more ways than one. You’re slippery and fast and his reaction time is slower as his gaze lingers on every inch of exposed, glistening skin.

He pounces and were he not already so close, you would have been able to dodge him. Your feet don't have a chance to gain traction though as you scramble to get away. He swiftly grabs you by the waist, tossing you over his shoulder.

The action is fast enough that it steals your breath away. You're kicking and protesting as he carries you out of the gym. All the tech and weaponry in the Danger Room have borne the brunt of Logan's claws too many times, so the two of you have been banished to the school's gymnasium. Logan takes two stairs at a time as he carries you off in the direction of your shared room. It’s far from the student’s quarters and the walls are soundproof from back when Logan’s nightmares were more frequent. They’re all but gone since you maneuvered yourself into his life.

(It’s technically still his room only, but he was never going to ask you to move in, so you’ve just started sneaking things in and leaving items behind until it was obvious. You know he’s noticed and cleared space for your abandoned items in his dresser, closet, and bathroom. He’s just too stubborn to admit defeat. And you’re happy to spare his ego and let him be the one to finally mention it.)

If anyone in the mansion hears your grumbling and cursing, they tune you out–already accustomed to you and Logan bickering. Your protests die in your throat as you take a sharp intake of air when he smacks your ass, his large hand definitely leaving a stinging mark. If it's not already red, he may spank you one or two more times...especially if you mouth off.

Once in his room, he tosses you onto his bed but you bounce back up and try to shove past him, a half-assed attempt to keep playing cat and mouse, to make him chase you some more. He hooks you around the waist and throws you back on the bed, this time bearing down on top of you. His body is strong, solid, and heavy with adamantium as he pins you down, his chest vibrating with a growl.

"No more talking."

"Oh baby, that's not how I fuck," you moan and hook one of your legs around his waist. One hand grabs his ass, giving you leverage to grind against him.

"Such a filthy mouth," he snarls, his teeth grazing your jaw before he nips at your ear. His facial hair scratches at your skin, raising goosebumps along your flesh. Your nipples tighten and ache, desperate for his mouth.

"You love it."

His chest vibrates with another deep growl just before he claims your mouth, your lips smashing together hard enough that your teeth make contact, and your lips get caught in the crossfire. There's a brief taste of iron but whomever it belongs to heals quickly, the sting relieved as his tongue delves into your mouth.

"Can't...stand it...anymore. Can't take it," he groans as he kisses you. He pulls away just to kiss and bite along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

"Poor thing, powerless to resist me?" you keen, your breath hitching as he bites your neck a little harder, his tongue soothing it a second later. You grind your hips, answering with your own moans, proud of yourself for getting a rise out of him. Your nails dig into his back, definitely tearing at his shirt. He pulls his head back and hisses as the sensation rides the border between pain and pleasure. He reaches for you, his hands shackling your wrists and pinning your arms by your head.

"Be a good girl for once and don't move," he commands you, releasing your hands so that he can take off his shirt and rip off his belt. He yanks your pants down, getting increasingly agitated as he struggles with the fabric. With your shirt, he pulls it up until it bunches around your wrists, effectively shackling you. As for your sports bra and underwear…

"Nonono!"

SNIKT!

"Sonuvabitch!" you curse as he cuts the fabric with one of his claws. He just chuckles. He's slowed down just for a moment to drag a single claw down the middle of your sports bra, along the line of your cleavage. Your breasts spill out as he cuts the straps next. Your breasts are bared to him and he lavishes them with the attention you crave. You no longer keep your hands above your head as you card your fingers through his thick hair, pulling on it as you arch your back and press your breasts further into his hands and mouth. He bites at your supple flesh as his fingers knead your nipples into aching peaks. A mewling whimper escapes your lips as you roll your hips against him some more but his jeans are still on.

"Are you gonna fuck me, or do I need to get myself off?" you challenge him while biting your bottom lip. His answer comes after he slides a hand down your body and rubs your pussy through your soaked underwear.

"Nobody makes you come but me, sweetheart," he says gruffly, his own arousal evident in his voice before he kisses you again, deeply, passionately, possessive. He steals your breath away and when he lets you up for air you gasp, your chest heaving as he's pinned your breasts between you. You love the feeling of his chest hair against your skin.

"Then prove it…Bub," you gasp, surprising yourself and giggling at the use of the nickname. He shakes his head with amusement, only slightly cringing at your joke.

The next thing you know, he's sitting up, unzipping his jeans and ripping your underwear off without the use of his claws. (You don't wear your nicer panties when sparring with Logan is on the schedule.) The sports bra, you'd thought you could save. His dick is straining against his boxer briefs but you hardly get a glimpse of his perfectly thick cock before he's pushing inside you.

Normally, you like it when he fingers you first. When he stretches you out with two or three fingers while he tongues and sucks on your clit. You lament the opportunity for beard burn on your inner thighs but you’ll make up for that some other time. For now you’re just as desperate for him, as he is for you.

"Mmm fuck," he growls as he bottoms out. "So fucking tight. So wet. Love the scent of you on my sheets." He hunches forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck. He bites and sucks a mark into your skin. It'll heal, but at least the two of you will know it was there. You rake your fingers through his hair, pulling on it, your nails scraping his scalp. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles in the small of his back.

"Yes, Logan, yes baby fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me come," you urge him on, trying to roll your hips to match his rapid rhythm, but you can't keep up. The sensations are intense and overwhelming, until you've lost the strength in your arms and you just let yourself go. You submit to him in every way, allowing yourself to be used for his pleasure just as you know your pleasure is his. "Fuck, Logan, I'm so close…" you moan.

Your body is languid, liquid heat beneath him, your skin scorching hot no matter where he touches you. He drags his big hands down your body, starting at the base of your throat, over your heartbeat, kneading your breasts before sliding them down your stomach and grasping your hips. Changing pace to long, hard strokes, he rubs your clit with his thumb as he raises your hips off the bed. Your hips start bucking like you're trying to get away from the intensity of his thumb on your clit, but he keeps pulling you back to him, thrusting deeper as you two battle for release. You cry out, coming so hard your legs are shaking. You reach out to him and he extends one of his arms. Your fingers dig into his forearm as you hold on, feeling like you could fly off the bed, but Logan has you. He'll never let you go.

"Ohh, fuck," he groans, his mouth hanging open and his lips almost pulling back to bare his teeth like an animal. His eyes roll back as he nearly loses himself to the feeling of your orgasm, the pulsing sensation of your pussy squeezing him tight. You keep rolling your body, pushing and pulling with your grip on his arm,  drawing out your climax. His fingers dig into your hips. He finally bares his teeth, growling, his face twisting into a feral snarl. "Fuck, baby."

He pulls out suddenly and you cry, mourning the loss of being full. But then he flips you over, fast enough to elicit a startled giggle. His smug chuckle is lost as you end up face down on the bed. You're about to get up to your hands and knees when Logan slams back into you, going deeper from this position. You moan into his pillow, noting his own unique smell of leather, cigars, and pine. His hand holds onto your shoulder for leverage as he starts piston his hips at a rapid pace, fucking into you from behind, pressing you into the mattress.

“Don’t stop. Keep going,” you urge him on, knowing that the moment it’s too much for you, if you say stop, he will. “Oh my god, fu--I'm gonna come again," you whimper. He lets out a rugged laugh and spanks your ass...once, twice, and then rubbing your skin to soothe the red marks before he grabs your ass to help you push back and ride his dick.

"Yesss," he hisses, "Yeah sweetheart, let it go, come again. I've got you," he grunts, the words oddly sweet in contrast to the pounding you're getting.

Your next orgasm is matched by his. You can't see him behind you but you know what it looks like when Logan comes. You love the way his nose scrunches up, his head falls back and then rolls to the side like he's about to crack his neck. Then he shakes head like he's clearing his head from the fog of mind-blowing sex. His body shudders, all of his muscles are tense, flexed, rock hard. If you were on your back, you'd be kissing and nipping at his broad chest as you rake your nails down his abs. For now, you can take in the sight of him by straining to look over your shoulder. His thrusts stutter to a complete stop as he fills you up.

"Yes, baby…yes, feels so good," you pant, praising him. The corner of his mouth turns up in a proud smirk. He takes a few deep breaths and slides his hand up and down your spine. You fully sink into the mattress, boneless and spent, and he leans over you, propping most of his weight on his arms beside you.

Your breathing synchronizes as you lay there together. He peppers your shoulders with open mouth kisses and gently nips at the curve of your neck as you expose it.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he murmurs softly in your ear.

"Mmm, yes," you answer, "always." Your eyes are closed as you focus on the remnants of pleasure coursing through your body. You press your ass against him, earning yourself a few more lazy, taunting thrusts from him. He pulls out, his dick still hard and throbbing with a stamina unmatched by your own. You clench your legs shut, determined to keep his seed inside you, as you both love a messy round two. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him until you're on your back and looking up at him.

"You drive me crazy, baby girl," he grumbles…with obvious affection as he nuzzles you and then softly kisses you.

"You love it," you defend yourself playfully.

"Mmmhmm," he growls his agreement before kissing you again, one hand slowly exploring the planes of your body once more. He loves it when you play hard to get. He loves it when you talk back and antagonize him. He loves having a partner who keeps up with him and then still kicks his ass in training. He loves it when you challenge his lone wolf act. He loves it all, because it makes these moments happen--moments where two seemingly invincible people can come together and feel safe enough to love and be loved.

-----

It's been 2 years since I posted any fics... I hope ya'll liked this! Let me know!

p.s. made a wolverine specific sideblog: @feral4wolverine

[chemicl]

Missing the oversized jacket 🥲💛

[dorkszn]

“Lo, do you think you’ll kill for me one day?” You had asked him.

Now you look down at a body. Guts splattered. Blood painting the alleyway a sinful but beautiful red. Life drained from their dull eyes. His silver claws that glistened in the moonlight the same crimson color.

Anybody else would be scared, disgusted, terrified even. But not you. Not when he turns back to you with the softest look in his eyes despite the blood all over him. Despite the carcass of the person who’d dared to lay a finger on you that laid just behind him.

You just look at him with pure adoration and love. Not hint of fear in your body. Not even a sliver of it. His claws retreating back into his body as he steps towards you. He simply puts a hand on the back of your head and pulls you into his broad chest, holding you close.

“Yeah, of course I will, Bub.” He had answered.

[lunasblunt]

about you

SFW!!!!

pairing: logan howlett x original fem!mutant character

summary: in the midst of a mission, terra, a mutant with the ability to manipulate earthly elements, convinces logan to leave the hotel room they’ve been confined in

suggested song: about you by the 1975 another pretty basic one ik but i always associate this song w the beach at night i just think it’s perfect for this

CW: drunk/intoxicated characters, sliiiight nsfw??? they swim in their underwear…., otherwise just fluff + some angst ig at the end

A/N: i have been so obsessed w the idea of this for so long u guys have no idea.

***not related to barracuda!!! just a fun little oneshot :)

terra slugs back a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle, trying her hardest not to make a face as logan watches her.

the two had finally started to get along, and it wasn’t everyday logan shared his liquor with anyone.

this mission had really gotten the best of them. they were drained, discouraged and sick of the hotel room the professor had provided them. it was only a matter of time before the two went crazy from staring at the same striped wallpaper.

“i don’t know how you do it,” the girl shakes her head, not fond of the taste lingering in her mouth. “whiskey is not my friend.”

logan lets out a low chuckle, taking a swig the second the bottle is back in his grip.

there’s a beat of silence, the voices of neighboring hotel rooms the only thing breaking the stillness. logan lets out a content sigh as he rests the bottle down. he was finally pretty tipsy, a feeling he’d been waiting on for the past few hours. terra, however, was already quite intoxicated; tossing back shots of tequila at the bar like it was nobody’s business.

a faint ticking of a clock causes the brunette to jump up. she was itching to leave that damn room, and if she heard that clock tick any longer she knew it wouldn’t end well.

“don’t you just…” she starts, propping herself up by sitting on her feet. logan turns his head slowly, savoring the sensation he’d accomplished. “want to get out?”

the man hums in response. she had a point. the two were trapped in this loop of visiting the bar, pretending to be people they’re not, then heading back to the hotel room.

it was starting to get exhausting.

on the other hand, logan knew he couldn’t disobey charles’s direct orders. his wise, trusting voice rang in logan’s ears.

“the professor gave us specific instructions.” he runs a hand through his hair. “it wouldn’t be smart to leave.”

terra rolls her eyes at this. in what world was logan, the wolverine for god’s sake, all for following rules?

“oh come on,” she says with a frown, not taking no for an answer. she scoots closer to him, softly poking a finger into his shoulder. “live a little.”

logan can’t suppress the genuine laugh that escapes his lips.

he’d lived a little too much. two hundred years under his belt… and counting.

with a sigh, logan stands from his seat on the floor. he gives a knowing look to the girl sat in front of him, then turns on his heel to grab his hotel key, reluctantly agreeing.

as the two walk further from the building, logan realizes he has no idea where the pair are even headed.

“so what’s your plan, princess,” the sarcastic nickname rolls off his drunken tongue. “just frolic around the streetlights at midnight? thrilling.”

terra rolls her eyes at the man’s remarks, then reaches for a hand.

“i need to show you something.”

something about the soft tone in her voice, or maybe the way her subtle smirk lit up her face as she turned to him, made the hair on logan’s arms stand. he found himself letting her lead the way without putting up fight, trying to piece together whatever feeling just washed over his body.

terra sports a mischievous grin as she reaches the beach she had taken note of just days before. she’d been dreaming about this area of town ever since she saw it and was eager to finally sink her feet into its sand.

when logan steps onto the beach, he mentally curses himself for not knowing any better. of course her of all people would bring him by the water in the middle of the night.

“the beach.” logan snarls, running his tongue over the inside of his cheek as he examines the area.

“it’s nice, isn’t it?” the girl takes in the fresh ocean air, still smiling.

logan lets a moment of silence linger between them, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

it was kind of nice.

as if a switch had been flipped, terra's quiet aura was suddenly replaced by a burst of energy she had been holding back for nights.

“come on!” she nudges the man toward the spot where the water meets the sand, her toes curling as its cold temperature runs over her bare feet.

logan watches, or supervises, rather, as terra drunkenly spins around, ankles deep, careless of her actions.

something about this felt so peaceful, grounding even. maybe it was witnessing someone truly care for the world around them, or maybe it was seeing how the girl no longer seemed concerned with his opinion of her. this was a side of her he’d never really seen. he wished he could capture the moment properly.

he tries to ignore the way that same feeling from earlier grew in his stomach, wishing he’d brought the whiskey with him.

“wanna go in?” terra asks, breaking logan out of his thoughts.

“huh?”

“the water.” she laughs, hiccuping a bit. “do you want to swim?”

logan furrows his brows in disbelief. was she serious?

“no.”

“come on, logan,” she pleas, turning to face him directly. she inches toward him, reaching out for his hands. logan gulps. “when was the last time you went out and did something, i don’t know… spontaneous?”

logan rolls his eyes silently. she was on fire with the old jokes tonight.

“we’ll go in our underwear, so we have something dry to come back to.” she pauses, trying to cling onto the idea that maybe, just maybe he’d go in with her.

no response.

as terra begins to lose all hope, logan starts to peel off the black t-shirt that had been covering his torso.

within seconds, the wavy haired brunette found herself giggling up a storm as she stripped from her clothes; logan tossing his aside and making his way to the water before she’d even gotten to her skirt.

“logan!” she calls out after him, rushing over as the water starts to reach his knees.

thinking back on it, logan would say his first mistake of the night was waiting for her to catch up. the sight of terra jogging into the ocean in nothing but a bra and panties was something, but the fact that the fabric was practically transparent made the feeling in his stomach spread down to his pants.

logan had to squeeze his eyes shut so he didn’t make a fool of himself.

“cold?” she snaps him out of his second daze of the night.

“yeah, cold.”

when they get far enough, terra starts to swim around, floating on her back and practicing all the strokes she can think of. logan watches, trying to seem like his drunken mind wasn’t a shit show.

eventually, the girl makes her way over to him. she smiles as she rests her arms around his neck, their foreheads inches from each other. she plays with the ends of his now soaked hair as she catches her breath, a smile plastered on her mouth.

logan tenses up, his heart starting to race.

she looks up at the moon that sits above them, thankful of its existence, admiring its beauty and the way it lit up the night sky like their own personal nightlight.

“the moon looks so beautiful.” she speaks, allowing herself to lean the side of her head against the man’s chest, still staring directly at it.

logan nods in agreement, trying to seem interested, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes from the scene below him. he took in the angle he had of her, her head buried in his chest as the light of the moon formed a twinkle in her eye.

“a waxing gibbous.” she adds, chuckling. a brief silence falls over the two of them. she glances up at logan, who’s still mesmerized by this “new” version of her, her eyes wide and clueless.

before she thinks to question his unusual behavior, terra watches as the man’s gaze lowers to her mouth. when their eyes reconnect, the silence continues to float between them.

without a second thought, terra leans in, pressing her lips to his.

logan’s taken aback at first, not expecting that bold of a move, but then leans into her touch; cupping a hand around the side of her face as he deepens the embrace.

for a moment everything feels right, their drunken bodies molding into each other under the stars.

until logan rips his face from hers, turning with a furrowed brow.

the silence between them is known all too well.

terra stares blankly at the man before her, caught off guard and blushing with embarrassment. her mind scrambles to think up any possible way she can fix whatever just happened. they were finally at a good point and she decided to mess it all up.

she felt so stupid.

“logan…” she starts, unsure of what she even wanted to say.

he carries himself out of the water, shaking his head with an angry, regretful look painted on his face.

what had she done? for a split second, terra just wants to scream. that is, until the sound of a voice began to echo inside her head.

“terra,” it sighs, unimpressed. terra can’t help the knowing shiver that runs down her spine. “you shouldn’t be out.”

the girl’s head snaps to the shoreline, where she can make out the figure of a red-haired girl and a man standing beside her.

jean… and scott.

logan can be seen snatching up his clothes from the sand silently as terra forces herself out of the water.

this was humiliating.

terra didn’t think jean could tell them off anymore than she already had on the walk back, but when the four finally made it up to the hotel room she was still able to scrounge up just a bit more.

“charles trusted you,” she goes on, pacing back and forth like a tired parent. “figuring you could handle yourselves as grown adults, and you deliberately went and disobeyed him.” terra lets the ball of clothes in her hands cover her partially exposed body. she felt like a teenager again. “not to mention all of this!” she gestures towards the countless amount of empty bottles that had been shared between both terra and logan.

logan sits himself down on the bed as jean scolds them, clearly not wanting to hear it. he knew he shouldn’t have let them leave. he felt like a fucking idiot for letting that ditzy girl drag him out.

“tomorrow night we’ll be attending you, making sure you’re taking care of what needs to be.” scott adds as the couple heads for the door. “clean yourselves up until then.”

“and logan,” jean starts, making eye contact with the wolverine for the first time the entire night. “stay focused.”

with that, the two shut the door behind them, leaving the pair anxious and frazzled.

“logan…” the same, soft tone of voice escapes terra’s lips. she still didn’t know what to say, but she knew she needed to apologize.

logan doesn’t answer. instead, he tosses his shirt at her chest with a scoff.

“put on some fucking clothes.”

[librababe99]

Kinktober Day One: In His Hands

Logan x Gender Neutral Reader

Tags: MDNI,  18+ ONLY, Set during 2000s X-men, Knife play (Ft. Claws), smut  Synopsis: With Logan deep inside you he can't help but wonder how perfect you would look with his running down your body. WC: 973

A/N: The big day is finally here! The first day of Kinktober😍 Again, this is my first year participating so bare with me as I get into the groove of things! Happy reading my little spooky loves <3

| Kinktober Masterlist | | Day Two |

The night was quiet, the room bathed in a soft, amber glow from the dim lighting, casting long shadows on the walls. It was a stolen moment, one that you and Logan had grasped out of the chaos that seemed to swirl around the mansion. The world outside was full of danger, uncertainty, and mutants constantly fighting to find their place in it. But here, right now, none of that mattered.

Logan's breath was hot against your neck, his body pressed intimately against yours. Every sensation was magnified—the way his muscles flexed under your touch, the low growl in his throat as he kissed you deeply, passionately. His lips moved over yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, his hands gripping you firmly as if he couldn't bear the thought of being apart from you even for a second.

You gasped softly as he thrust deeper, your body arching into his, the heat between you palpable. The bed creaked beneath the weight of your entwined bodies, the only sounds filling the room were your mingled breaths and the quiet groans that escaped between kisses.

His hand found its way to your face, rough yet tender, cupping your jaw as he broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was dark, filled with lust but also something deeper—affection, maybe even love, though he’d never say it outright. The connection you shared with him was unlike anything else, raw and untamed, just like him.

"Do you trust me?" His voice was gravelly, rougher than usual, a low rumble that vibrated through you, heightening the tension between your bodies. His question, though simple, was loaded with meaning.

Your heart raced, the intensity of the moment heightened by the weight of his words. You nodded, breathless. "Yes," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, though not from fear—never fear with him. It was the thrill, the anticipation of whatever Logan had in mind.

Without breaking eye contact, Logan’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin. You watched as he lifted his right hand, the familiar metallic sound filling the air as his claws unsheathed with a sharp snikt. They gleamed in the soft light, deadly, dangerous, yet somehow beautiful. He lowered his hand to your body, and the cool metal of his claws hovered just above your skin, sending a new kind of shiver coursing through you.

Logan dragged his claws slowly down your body, not cutting, just grazing the surface with the barest of touches. You could feel the cold steel as it glided over your heated skin, the contrast making every nerve come alive. He was careful, deliberate, watching you closely, his gaze as intense as the sharp edge of his claws.

You couldn't look away, your breath hitching with every gentle scrape. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt before—a perfect balance of danger and trust. You knew he would never hurt you, not Logan. Not your Logan.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper filled with admiration, almost reverence. His eyes roamed over your body, following the path of his claws. "You look perfect like this."

His words sent a rush of warmth through you, a low heat pooling deep inside. You could feel his gaze burning into you, devouring every inch of you as he admired the way your body responded to him. He let the claws trace the curve of your side, your hips, down to your thigh, never breaking the skin, but leaving a tingling trail of sensation in their wake.

Your eyes stayed locked on his claws, watching the way they moved, the sheer control he had over them—over you. It was intoxicating, the power he held, but the trust you had in him made it even more thrilling.

Logan growled softly, his lips curling into a smirk as he took in the way your body trembled under his touch. "You like that, don't you?" His voice was teasing, though there was an edge to it, his own desire barely restrained.

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps. "Yes," you whispered again, unable to form any other words.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Good." Then, in one swift movement, he sheathed his claws and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him, his lips crashing onto yours with renewed fervor.

Logan kissed you like he was claiming you, his hands roaming your body now without the claws, but with the same intensity, the same focus. He thrust deeper, his pace quickening, and the room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, your moans mingling with his low growls as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body moved with his, perfectly in sync, every touch, every kiss fueling the fire between you. You could feel the tension building, the sensation of his earlier touch still lingering on your skin, making everything more intense, more urgent.

And then, with a final thrust and a guttural growl, you both came undone, the world outside disappearing as the pleasure washed over you in waves. You clung to him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you rode out the climax together.

For a moment, everything was still, the only sound was the soft panting of your breaths as you both came down from the intense moment. Logan's arms remained around you, holding you close, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he nuzzled you softly.

"You're something else," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough but filled with warmth, his affection for you evident in every word.

You smiled, your heart swelling as you stroked his hair, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours. "So are you, Lo." 

Tags: @strawbearymishake @comicbookslut @arthurcerverogf @lovemaildumpsterfire @serendippindots @nyxoneiros @peachtxa @omgurhot @chaoticweirdogeek @5soscrack @harleycao @pinkanonwriting