#logan howlett fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loganbcrnes · 1 year

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Hello! I have an idea for a Logan x F reader story. I’ve always thought it’d be funny if Logan got so worked up while doing the deed and he breaks the bed frame and both him and the reader laugh it off in good fun.

So sorry it took so long to write this! Enjoy!

Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x fem!reader

Requested: yes

Warnings: smut, 18+, little bit of praise, daddy kink, hard sex, jealousy, bed gets broken, possessiveness (not toxic), body type & ethnicity isn't mentioned.

Word count: 1,662

“I was NOT flirting with him! How many times do I need to tell you that?” you scolded. “Don’t act stupid, I saw you laughing with him.” Logan grumbled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“So what?, I work with him Lo, he just said something funny. I can’t believe you’re assuming such…thoughts, and I’m not stupid!” You look up at him. By now, you were getting annoyed. Daniel was…nice, but he was also a creep that didn’t understand you were not interested, not that were you available anyways.

“I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you. He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat” Logan had a fixed glare on his face as he kept driving. You sighed and reached your hand onto his thigh, feeling the tight muscles clench. “You know I love you, you’ve got nothing to be jealous about, maybe you shouldn't have been so busy talking to your buddies” Leaning back towards the window. Logan sucked in a breathe, he turned to face you and let out a scowl whilst shaking his head.

“Wait until we get back home Princess, I’ll show you who you belong to.” Logan grumbled darkly. You let out a quiet gasp, he words he uttered sent shocks right to your core. you loved it when Logan got possessive.

————

Logan walks into the bedroom carrying you with your legs wrapped around his waist. He places you onto the bed. "Strip down to your panties and lay down with your head over the edge," He commands, to which you immediately comply. He stands behind you while you look up at him, anticipating his next order. “What do ya’ want, Bub? Hmm? Want me to touch ya’? Fuck ya’ hard enough until your crying for me to stop? Is that what’chu want?” he caressed his thumb against your cheek. “Yes, please, daddy. I promise I’ll be good.” You begged, your breathe shaking. Logan hummed in consideration. “I really didn’t like that jerk talking to you..gonna show ya’ who ya’ belong to, bub.” His voice was so calm, it made your heart beat so fast. You watched as Logan walked to the bedside table to take out some lube, he place it beside you head. "Put your hand down your panties," Logan orders, his eyes scanning your body. "Rub that little pussy for me. Just like you were doing this morning." With a deep breath, you slip your hand past your underwear, before finding your throbbing clit and rubbing small, quick circles onto it. You watch Logan as he stripped out of his checked shirt. You bite your lip, relishing the view of his muscled body on display just for you, only you. It made your clit throb even harder to the point it nearly hurt. "That's my girl," He mumbles, your heart skipping a beat at the praise, before the delicious sound of his belt buckle opening fills your ears. "I'm giving you what you want, but you gotta give daddy what he wants too, bub." He takes out his hard thick cock and brings it to your lips. You suck on the mushroom head, twirling your tongue over the slit. You hear Logan groan. Not bothering with letting you slowly adjust and instead pushing it into your mouth. His balls touches your chin when his tip hits the back of your throat. He quickens the pace and begins fucking your face. Small whimpers escape around his cock as you continue playing with yourself. He leans down squeezing your tit and pinching your nipple between his fingers. "That's it, keep going," He says, letting out a groan. "Keep rubbing that pussy like the dirty whore you are. Get so wet just from sucking on daddy's cock, huh? Fucking choke on it, Princess, that's a good girl." Logan loves the sight of your drool spilling out your mouth and pouring up your cheeks, where it meets your tears. His precum mixes in with your saliva, coating your skin while you continue to gag on his big dick. You rub your clit faster, feeling your pleasure build up. "Make yourself cum," He orders gravely, fucking your throat harder. "Now." His gruff command pushes you to the edge and soon you're cumming all over your own fingers, whining onto his cock. You shudder a little, gasping when he pulls his cock out of your mouth. “Good girl.” He praises you. “Now, get on your back and spread your legs.” You do as he’s told not wanting to waste any more time. Logan squirts lube onto his cock, making wet noises as strokes himself, tightening his grip at the base as he watches you spread your legs, your throbbing cunt on display. Logan’s powerful body casts a shadow over you. He stands there in all of his glory, stroking his wet cock and just watching you. he seemed intimidating, like the deadly man you knew he was, who’s killed hundreds of people. He looked threatening in a way that made your arousal flood your senses.

Climbing over you so that his face was level with your stomach, he spoke low now, his voice tight and thick with lust, you felt his words deep inside, as the hunger pooled between your thighs. He followed up your stomach with hot trailing, kisses. ‘Mmm, how do you want it baby?’ He asked quietly, “…Want me to mark ya’ all up?” kiss You were groaning now, squirming beneath him and his stubble and sideburns tickled your skin. He reached your neck, nipping it then grinned salaciously into your hooded eyes. “Please, daddy.” You mewled. “Or you want me to fuck you rough and wild, baby? The animalistic fucking you love so much? The way that has you screaming my name? Or do I draw it out? Touch you nice and slow until you’re trembling under my hands? Begging for my cock? Even I don’t think I have the patience for that tonight.” Jesus, you moaned and gasped, bucking your hips to him, his cock rubbing against your clit, desperate for some sort of touch, grinding your body into his, silently begging him to take you. He was so good at this stupid teasing game, it wasn’t fair to play any more, you craved more than just his words, as dirty as they were. “Please…I swear to God, Logan” you growled, wanting nothing more than his thick cock inside of you.

Logan chuckled darkly, he leaned back to line up the tip of his cock at your gaping entrance. Roughly he thrusts into you not leaving you with any time to get used to his size. No matter how many times he fucks you, you’re always as tight as you were when he took your virginity. "Oh fuck yeah…daddy!" "The only reason I’m giving ya’ the satisfaction of my cock without any punishment" He hissed through gritted teeth, "…is because I can see your fuckin’ desperate for it princess, taking my cock so well, huh?" "It feels so good…ungh…fuck, exactly like that Lo, harder!" He was moving faster over you, working your body into a frenzy punctuating his words with heavy thrusts. he sucks on your nipples, sending shocks down to your core due to the sensitivity. His balls slap hard against you, you had totally lost control, practically screaming for him to go deeper, to take you body and soul, give you the orgasm you craved and end the madness that was this constant sleeplessness, hardly the serene picture of feminine dignity. The bed frame clashes against the wall with each brutal thrust. He takes a hold of the bed frame with one hand while his other grips your waist tight, leaving bruises. Without warning, the bed frame breaks, and Logan let's out a growl and throws the wood across the room, you gasp "Logan!-" You have no time to speak, because Logan sets up a fast pace once again. "Fuck, look at what you made me do, doll. God you feel amazing, made me break the fucking bed frame" He grunts when you squeeze around his cock. "Logan, god, I'm so close, please don't stop" You yelped, the broken bed frame long forgotten. Logan changes position. He grips your legs and presses them against your chest. Slapping sounds make up the room, your breathing gets heavier. You claw at his biceps, seeing the hair dampen on his chest from the sweat. The thrusting is so brutal and nearly painful as he continues fucking into your cunt. You look down and watch his cock slide in and out of you. “See that darlin’? Your pussy was made for my cock, fits so perfectly.” He sucked on your neck, leaving marks that will be noticeable tomorrow. Logan moves his fingers downwards and begins to rub harsh circles on your already sensitive clit, making you whine. “Ah, ah, Logan” You scream, the sensation in your stomach you know so well, building up. Abruptly, Logan swapped positions with you on top, when suddenly there was a loud creak, and an even louder snap. The mattress fell to the floor at an angle, sending the two of you rolling to the floor. You screamed and fell on top of him. You began laughing wildly, covering your face as you rolled to your back. “Oh, my God,” you cried out. “I can’t believe you broke our bed!” “That wasn’t all me, sweetheart,” Logan growled, but chuckled shortly after, leaning on his elbows to look down at you. “It was mostly you,” you pointed out, your hand resting on his chest. He was on his side, peppering kisses on your forehead. “Couldn’t help myself, you felt so good.” You were still laughing. “I was about to have the best orgasm of my life, Logan! That bed was made from Asgardian oak, a gift from Thor!” Logan bit your neck. “Whatever, we’ll get a new one from Ikea” “’Ikea?” you burst out laughing, “Sure, we’ll have 50 broken beds by the end of the year and its October.” Logan moved to straddle you, pinning your arms above your head, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Hmmm, then what do you purpose we do then, doll?” “We could ask Tony if he has some vibranium to make a bed?” Logan chuckled at the suggestion and rolled his eyes. He leaned down, kissing you breathless before you could make another sound. “Why don’t we finish this off in the shower, hmm?” Logan suggested with dark smile. You could never resist that smile.

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rainydaydreamsideblog · 4 months

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(X-Men) Logan Howlett x Reader: The Injury

Logan is angry with you for taking a hit in battle that was meant for him

Word Count: 839

Warnings: vague reference to injury

“Hey! Kid. What was that about?” he demanded. “Did’ya hear me? I said, what was that about?” His expression was nothing short of utterly ticked off- which was pretty par for the course for Logan.

You simply stared straight ahead, pursing your lips. If you could cross your arms in your current state, you would. It just so happened that your injury was still too sore even with the pain meds Jean had given you.

He scoffed at your defiant silence and shifted his weight to the other foot, hip jutting out in a casual stance as he ran a hand down his face in exasperation. Even so, as irate as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice. Not when you looked so, well, fragile as you sat there in the medical wing bed.

If it had been him taking the hit, the wounds would have been gone for hours already by now. Instead, you would be spending the next few days recovering here at the minimum.

It just didn’t add up.

“Were you trying to be some hero?” He started pacing toward the other side of the wing, glancing out the window. You were never quite sure why he did that from time to time, but you guessed that he was checking the surroundings for danger out of habit. “Do I need to remind you that I heal instantly, and you don’t?”

“It’s just-” you started to snap, but stopped yourself, shaking your head.

“It’s just what?” he questioned impatiently.

You whipped your head around to meet his gaze furiously. “I don’t see you that way! You’re not a punching bag! Just because you can heal, it’s not your job to take all of the pain all the time!”

Logan took a few steps closer, blood pressure lowering as he processed what you were telling him. Your gaze lowered to study your folded hands as the silence stretched on.

His voice quieted in a familiar, almost gentle, husky tone. “It’s not your job to take everyone else’s pain all the time.”

It made your heart nearly melt into putty inside your chest. He never failed to have that effect on you each and every day in the halls of Xavier’s School.

Your own voice lowered to a whisper. “I know. But when you have an ability like mine…it becomes hard to watch people get hurt. Especially the ones you care about.” You shook your head. “I can absorb the pain and hurt of everyone else, Logan. But not yours. For once, I just… I wanted to.”

He was a man who could recover from the worst of injuries within minutes. You were a woman who could absorb the damage from others at a cost to your own health. His own ability worked too fast for yours to be effective on him. And since you were to absorb from others, there was no way for you to heal yourself…Well, not one that you were willing to take, anyway.

The bed dipped as Logan took a seat at the edge, his back to you.

“I’d be over it by now, you know,” he said. “I hate seein’ you in here for the others as it is. You don’t need to add me to the list.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, biting back a wince. “Too bad.”

“Look,” he released a sigh, turning to meet your gaze again. You found yourself absolutely captivated by his brown eyes as they bore into yours. “Next time, just let me handle it. I’d take a few seconds of that over watching you sit in here for days, or worse. Got me?”

You hesitated, and he lifted a brow, tilting his head.

Finally, you nodded in defeat. “Okay.” It wasn’t a bargain you wanted to strike, but how could you argue? “Still, it would make it easier on me if you didn’t get yourself hurt as much.”

At that, he gave a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, and while you’re here…” You bit your lip, looking down. “Um, would it be too much to ask you to cover my classes for me today?”

He rolled his eyes. “Professor already asked me.”

You smiled warmly at his and Xavier’s thoughtfulness. “I see. Thank you.”

“Just focus on gettin’ out of here.”

Logan gave your shoulder a pat, extra careful not to disturb your injury, and stood up. He strutted out of the med wing and paused to give you one more warning look- a final reminder to get well. You nodded, holding back a smile.

A little while later, Storm visited to see how you were doing. She brought some things from your room to occupy yourself with as you recovered. You thanked her profusely and happily grabbed the first book, which was one you were already halfway through, and resumed reading.

Still, your mind kept wandering back to your interaction with Logan. Sometimes, you wished you could just tell him how you felt… But you weren’t ready to take that risk.

Not yet…

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ichorai · 1 year

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as it was ; logan howlett.

track seven of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; logan howlett x mutant!scientist!gn!reader

synopsis ; you first met logan as weapon x, wiped clean of any memory of his past life. he had nearly killed you then. and now, almost two years later, he’s pressing kisses over the very same scars his adamantium claws had inflicted.

words ; 9.1k

themes ; angst, fluff, action, mutant au, scientist au

warnings / includes ; descriptions of violence and gore, death, blood and injuries, alcohol, smoking, emotions™, logan calls you 'bub' and 'darlin', reader has the ability to manipulate matter, reader is a scientist, based on marvel comics presents: weapon x issues #72-84, mentions of the brotherhood and the rest of the x-men, charles is your bff :D, not accurate x-men timelines </3

main masterlist.

You pressed your knuckles into your tired eyes, wincing when bright colors exploded behind your eyelids. Gingerly, you blinked to adjust back to the brightness of the laboratory’s artificial lights, stifling a wide yawn with the back of your palm.

It was your shift to watch him. Weapon X.

Everything was deathly silent, other than the rhythmic beeping of the machine in front of you. The machine that told you he was still alive. Still breathing.

You shifted in the leather chair, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in your throat.

The man—was he even a man anymore?—laid motionless and limp within the vat. His features, softened with unconsciousness, were still rugged and intimidating, nearly hidden by the hundreds of wires sticking out of his form.

They brought you in just a week ago, so you were still getting used to everything here. The other scientists in the facility had told you that the man was a volunteer for the Weapon X project—that he needed to be given an adamantium skeleton or his own mutation would kill him from the inside out. Being a mutant-in-hiding yourself, you felt a certain calling to help him out.

So if you were helping this man recover, why did it feel so wrong?

Biting the side of your cheek, you slipped out of the chair and strode up to the vat, resting a hand on the glass barrier. It was cold beneath your fingertips.

You could’ve sworn you saw his foot twitch—

The door to the lab whooshed open, and the head scientist, Dr. Cornelius, strode in, shooting you a humorless look, wordlessly telling you that your shift was over.

Pursing your lips, you pulled yourself away from the glass, sparing the man in the vat one last glance before stepping back to the chair to gather your things.

“Anything interesting to note?” the old man asked you.

You clicked your tongue against your teeth. “Nothing at all for the past couple of hours, Doc. He’s responding exceptionally well to the chemical bath.”

He made a disinterested noise, as if the prospect of things going well bored him, before sinking into another chair and heaving a large sigh.

Hesitant, you stepped forward to ask, “Doctor? Sorry, I was just wondering if I could ask you some questions.” It was about time you knew just what was going on here—there was definitely something that he wasn’t telling you.

The man lifted his gaze to you, seeming annoyed already. “What is it?” A scowl threatened to play by the corner of your lips, but you forced on an indifferent expression.

“I just… I keep thinking about him.”

“Who? Logan?”

His name was Logan. He had a name. Well—of course he did. You suddenly felt sick.

“Yeah. I keep thinking about what we’re doing to him.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but wisely chose to remain silent, goading you to carry on.

The machine beeped. You glanced at the unconscious man in the vat.

“Before I came here… was he—was Logan—here? And I don’t mean him as Weapon X. I mean it like the man before this. Was he here?”

“No,” Cornelius replied, far too quickly for your liking. He averted his gaze, focusing on the machine in front of him. “I don’t know. What are you asking here, kid?”

This time, you didn’t bother to suppress the frown budding across your face. “I mean,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “did Logan sign up for this?”

“I already told you,” Cornelius gruffed out, “he volunteered.”

“And why should I believe you? Why have you named him Weapon X if all we’re trying to do is cure him? Why did you have to erase his memories? Why have you been forcing him to fight wild animals in the forest? Are you making me attach adamantium to his skeleton because you want to help him, or because you want to manufacture a mindless killing machine?” Your voice had raised several notches in volume, and the doctor seemed to recoil at your words. Sucking in a breath to calm your erratic pulse, you spoke again, “You’re not telling me something, Cornelius.”

The doctor, stunned into silence, took several moments to gather what he wanted to say. A rebuttal was just on the tip of his tongue, but he knew it would be fruitless.

You’ve figured it out.

And he would have to kill you for it.

“Was he abducted? Kidnapped?” you asked again, voice strained.

“Congratulations,” the doctor sneered, slowly rising to his feet. “You’ve put together the puzzle pieces.”

Bile rose in your throat. “Logan was forced into this. He didn’t want any of it. You… you’re trying to make a monster but—you’re the real monster here.” Slowly, you started backing up. “You were using me. You knew that I wouldn’t help graft the adamantium to his skeleton if I knew the truth. You’re insane. You’re sick.”

With a mangled cry, the doctor lunged forward, knocking you to the ground as his palms found your throat. Pain flourished through your spine as it thudded against the sleek tiles of the floor, a strangled sound crawling from your lips. You clawed at his hands at first, desperate and losing air far too quickly.

Then, you grappled at his face, scratching at his cheeks until blood welled in tiny droplets from the red marks you drew. This only seemed to enrage him further, fingers pressing harder into your trachea. Dark spots danced about your vision and you gasped for breath, eyes misting over with unshed tears.

Fuck. You needed to do something. Quick.

Maybe… your powers—

No. No, you’d find another way. You refused to lose control of yourself ever again.

The chair was right beside you. If you could just… hook your foot around one of its legs and tip it forwards…

Your mouth fell open as your lungs begged for mercy, limbs growing weaker with each passing second. You gave it your all to jerk forward, just enough to shift you down and catch the chair with your foot and yank it forwards.

The heavy metal seat tipped forward slowly, before giving in to its own weight and crashing on top of Cornelius. The bald man howled with pain, and his grip loosened on you momentarily. You hiked your knees upwards and slammed them into his stomach, shoving him away with a yell. Your chest heaved raggedly, greedily swallowing as much air as you could take.

The doctor was quick to recover from his initial shock. You thought he’d lunge for you again, but instead, he brandished a walkie talkie and yelled, “CODE RED, GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW! CODE RED!”

Without a damned clue what ‘code red’ meant, you rushed forward and slammed the emergency lockdown button on the control panel. A haggard sigh of relief left you when thick metal slabs slowly lowered down over the doors.

Cornelius, infuriated, grabbed the back of your head and shoved you down, slamming the side of your face into the plethora of buttons. A loud groan of pain ricocheted across the laboratory, blood seeping from one of your nostrils and slipping into your mouth, running a metallic copper taste along your tongue. He did it again, and again, and again, far too quickly for you to even begin to react. Faintly, you registered a whooshing sound in front of you—one of you must’ve accidentally hit the button that released Logan from his chemical bath.

You spat blood over the buttons with a snarl, reinvigorated, shooting your hands out to stop him from bashing your face in once more. Twisting your body, you kicked at his knee as hard as you could, which made Cornelius collapse forward. You messily drove your fist into his eye socket, pushing him back, away from the control panel. The doctor fell onto the ground and you kicked at his skull with the heel of your shoe.

There was blood dripping down your chin. Your nose was throbbing. You were disoriented, vision splitting into blurry duplicates. Dizzy, you dropped to your haunches, crawling as far away as you could from Cornelius.

Noises were coming from the other side of the lab. Where Logan was.

Wincing, you were just about to turn to look before Cornelius’ hand wound around your ankle, yanking you to him with surprising strength. He punched you in the shoulder first, trying to aim for your face. You flailed your limbs, attempting to kick your feet, but he had trapped your legs between his. A struggling whimper shook your lips, breaths coming in fast, staccato beats. The second time he punched you, he hit you dead on. Your vision went dark for a good ten seconds. You could tell one of your eyelids had already swollen shut.

Desperate and panicked, you lurched upwards and bit into whatever you could. You sank your teeth in until red squirted straight into your other eye, and copper flooded your mouth once more. An ear-piercing scream rattled through the lab.

As you furiously wiped away the dark ichor from your eyes, you realized that he wasn’t screaming because of you—not really, at least.

He was screaming because there were three adamantium claws protruding from his abdomen.

And just behind him was Logan.

A terrified garble tore through your own throat. A string of nonsensical words fell from you—ranging from cries for help, prayers to whatever god would listen to you, and incoherent sobbing as pure terror ripped through you, whole and consuming.

There were still wires hanging off of the man’s starkly naked form, dragging against the ground behind him. His skin glistened with the residue from the chemical bath, droplets still falling from his damp hair and rolling over his defined muscles. With a near animalistic growl, he threw Cornelius’ lifeless corpse to the side, his adamantium claws streaking down both your arm and your side in the process. Another wail erupted from you and you curled into a fetal position, cradling your injuries and fruitlessly trying to put as much pressure as you could against the wounds. Blood seeped from you, staining the once-pristine floors with a growing pool of liquid rubies. You were light-headed, tilting your head up to look at Logan standing in front of you. Horror painted your insides with a thick, tar-like substance.

He made no move to hurt you any further, only regarding you with dark, distant eyes, like he just could just barely recognize your face. He remembered you.

You wanted to plead—beg him for mercy.

You cracked your shaking lips open, but the words lodged firmly in your throat, a sob rippling through your lungs. Hot tears streamed down your bloodied cheeks in fat dollops.

The mutant surprised you, then.

He spoke.

“I am…” he croaked out, seeming slightly miffed. It took him another couple of seconds to articulate his next words. His brain had been fried over and over again, the English language was something he had nearly completely forgotten. “I am… dead? I remember… death. Dying.”

You were shaking uncontrollably now. Whether it be because of the terror, or because of the insurmountable blood loss, you weren’t quite sure. Most likely both.

Voice warbling, you croaked out, “No, Logan. You’re not dead.”

His dark pupils darted to the pool of blood by your side, then moved down to his own hands and claws, practically soaked red. His chest heaved.

Slowly, you raised a trembling hand to point at the winding metal staircase at the back of the laboratory. “Run, Logan,” you hoarsely whispered. “They’ll be here any minute. You have to go before they catch you again. Go upstairs—there’s a rear window you can escape through.”

The man narrowed his eyes at you.

He stalked away wordlessly, leaving only droplets of Cornelius’ blood in his wake.

The tension melted away from your body instantaneously. The urge to cry laid heavy on your conscience, but you shoved down the tears and slowly pushed yourself to your feet, placing pressure on your wounds as you staggered onto your feet. With a grunt, you limped to Cornelius’ corpse, kneeling down to rip his belt and shirt off.

A low groan rumbled from your chest when you tied the belt over the deep gash Logan had inflicted on you, wrapping his shirt tightly over the leaking wound on your waist. Whether it was an accident or a purposeful move, you had no clue. Immediately, blood seeped through the fabric. You decided not to pay it any mind.

Faintly, you registered shouting from the other end of the barricaded door. You were running out of time.

Huffing a curse, you struggled to your feet and stepped over Cornelius, bee-lining for the metal staircase. Upstairs, you could see the droplets of blood Weapon X had left behind. You swallowed heavily, before following them to the open window.

“Fuck,” you coarsely spat out, glancing down to see snow blanketing the ground nearly at knee-length. Trembling already, you hopped off the windowsill and onto the fire escape’s ladder, gingerly placing each foot on the lower rung until you were near enough to jump down.

The wind whispered frost into your ears as you looked forward, into the dark forest.

They would kill you if you went back inside. It seemed like you had no other choice but to follow Logan. He was your best chance at survival.

Your sigh misted into an opaque fog as you followed the trail of blood on the snowy forest floor.

It’d been hours.

You had lost nearly all sensation in your feet, numbed by the frigid cold. You supposed that was one upside of the frost—you could no longer feel the pain of your wounds, despite the large blooming of crimson seeping through Cornelius’ shirt. The lids of your eyes were heavy, drooping closed every few seconds before struggling back open. You wrapped your arms around yourself lethargically, struggling to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Logan was only a couple minutes in front of you. At least—you thought he was. Hell, he could’ve been five hours away by now, considering how out of it you were.

You swallowed your throat, dry and scratchy from the whipping wind of the forest.

Not even ten steps later, you found yourself tipping forward, succumbing to the exhaustion.

The snow was suddenly flush against your cheek, the world now angled vertically. Black spots danced about your sight. You only barely registered the pain of hitting the ground, a wooden stick poking uncomfortably against your leg. You couldn’t be bothered to move. You couldn’t feel anything—yet it felt like you were burning alive. Perhaps it was the blood loss. Maybe the shame of failure. Or it could’ve simply just been the fact that you’ve been wading around in the snow for hours. A small breath slipped from your lungs and your eyes fell shut.

A nap wouldn’t hurt… would it?

Just as the corners of your vision waned dark, the shadow of a figure loomed over you.

The last thing you felt right before you succumbed to the cold were a pair of warm arms winding around you.

Lights—far too many, far too bright. Your heavy eyelids narrowed as soon as they blinked open, and you gingerly turned your face to the side to avoid the glare of the harsh luminosity.

There were a couple things you registered in your early stages of rousing. You were no longer cold, bundled in several layers of woolen blankets on what you presumed to be an infirmary bed. You could feel the slight pressure of a proper bandage around your waist, which still throbbed but wasn’t nearly as painful as you remembered.

And there was a man in a lab coat beside you.

You stared at his back as he busied themself with colorful pills and bottles. Your throat was so dry, it took you several moments to muster yourself to croak out a warbling, “Hello?”

The man seemed to jump out of his shoes, turning abruptly with wide eyes behind thick, rectangular spectacles. “Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” He shuffled to your side, watching you with evident concern.

You winced as you propped yourself up on one arm, slowly pulling yourself to sit up on the bed without putting too much weight on your wound. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

He pursed his lips. “That’s unfortunately quite expected—you’ll be feeling that way for a little bit before you get better. You took quite the beating out there—I tried my best to patch you up but I’m afraid the lacerations you got on your abdomen and arm will scar forever. Those bruises on your face, however, will be gone in a week, two tops.” The man paused, as if wanting to ask you a question, but thought better of it, shaking his head. “I’m gonna call somebody here to come talk to you. And I’ll go get you some water and food. Is that okay?”

Still reeling over everything, you nodded slowly, watching as he strode out of the infirmary.

Not a minute later, you heard the smooth rolling of wheels against tile. A bald man on a wheelchair swiftly entered the room, greeting you with a genuine smile and a bow of his head.

“You must be Doctor L/N,” he said, stopping just by your bedside. “I’m Charles Xavier. Now, I’m sure you have many questions—so let me try to answer them. You’re currently in Xavier’s School of Gifted Youngsters. I sensed your distress through my own telepathic mutation and had some of my X-Men go pick you and Logan up.”

At the mention of Logan, your muscles tensed, and your gaze snapped upwards to meet his.

“Logan… he’s here?”

Charles tilted his head, thinking back to the burly, pacing man in his office. “Yes, quite.”

“Is he okay?” you asked softly.

A wisp of a smile graced Charles’ lips. “He’s fine. A bit disoriented, but his memories are steadily returning. You, I’m more worried about. I know you’re a mutant, Y/N.”

Something dangerous flashed behind your irises. “I’ve never purposefully used my powers on anyone, if that’s what you’re asking. What happened to Logan—was because I was foolish enough to trust bad men.”

“I’m not blaming you, Y/N. You thought you were doing the right thing. Besides, the group who tricked you have been apprehended by the X-Men. They won’t be conducting anymore experiments on mutants,” he said, not unkindly. “I wanted to give you the liberty to explain what your mutation is… and if you can control it.”

“It’s only happened once before,” you whispered, fiddling with your nails anxiously. “I can manipulate matter, I think. Rearrange atoms and molecules in space. Once I start, I can’t control it—so I don’t ever intend to use it again.”

Charles regarded you for a moment, before nodding. “That’s quite the commitment. Would you mind me asking why?”

You hesitated, your teeth worrying into your bottom lip. “The first time I found out about my powers, someone died because of me. There was a car crash and my friend tried helping me and I… I panicked—” Tears quickly blurred your vision and you hiccuped, stopping to furiously wipe them away. “Shards of glass flew everywhere and…”

You trailed off, releasing a frustrated sigh.

“The cops ruled it as an accident, but I knew it was my fault. I moved out of town, started doing research with a university in molecular biology in hopes of finding out more about myself, when I got an offer to work with this company that ‘helped’ mutants. They lied to me. They were experimenting on them—and I should’ve known better. I thought I was saving Logan’s life.”

Charles hummed in thought, before shaking his head. “It’s not your fault. It was an accident—you didn’t know how to control your powers. But we can help you with that. If you stay, that is.”

Mouth parting in surprise, you leaned forward slightly in confusion. “You… you want me to stay here? After everything I’ve done? What will Logan think?”

“He knows it’s not your fault. There’s a reason he didn’t kill you—and a reason he carried you through the snow until we found the two of you. The deal is still on the table—just think about it. You’d make a valuable asset to our team.” A genuine smile etched over his face before he asked, “Would you perhaps want to see Logan?”

“No!” you exclaimed, a little too quickly. Charles’ eyebrows rose. Arms wrapping around yourself, you gently shook your head, repeating in a quieter tone, “No, thank you.”

The man observed you rather pensively before humming, “Alright, then. I’ll let you get some rest.”

“Thank you.” Despite the tautness of your tone, Charles knew you were wholly grateful. He bowed his head, and wheeled out of the infirmary room, leaving you with your thoughts.

To none of his surprise, leaning against the wall right next to the door, was Logan.

There was a cheap cigar wedged between his lips, hands clutched over the dog tags around his neck. He cocked his head to Charles as a greeting, gruffing out, “Are they alright?”

It was rather amusing to see such a brooding, stoic man lose his wits over a person he barely knew. Logan cared about you, and that made Charles all the more curious.

“I think Y/N’s going to be just fine.”

Logan huffed in something akin to relief, blowing out a puff of opaque smoke. After a long stretch of silence, Logan queried in a strained voice, “Can I see them?”

“It’s best if you give Y/N some time. They’re still a bit rattled over everything,” said the professor, patiently. “Have you gotten your memories back?”

“I think so. I remember most of my life before getting kidnapped. I taught self defense here, right?” Logan muttered, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely sure of himself. When Charles grinned and nodded, Logan spoke again, hesitant. “I remember Y/N. Their face, watching me through the glass. Talking about curing me—helping me. I remember the doctor there trying to kill them once they found out the truth.”

A low growl rumbled within the grizzled man’s chest, and he slumped further against the wall. “What are you going to do with Y/N now?”

“Well, that’s up to them. They are a mutant after all—I offered them a place here. Whether they stay or not is not for me to say.”

This seemed to pique Logan’s interest. “Y/N’s a mutant?”

“Yes,” Charles stated matter-of-factly. “Though, they don’t use their powers because it’s far too dangerous. Which is why I proposed that they stay so we can help. Now, if you excuse me, Logan, I’ve got to grade some papers. Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” replied Logan, distant. He saluted Charles with two fingers as he wheeled away. “G’night.”

The rest of the X-Men warmed up to you rather quickly. Hank would joke around with you while he did your daily check-up, and Jean, Ororo and Anna introduced themselves with sweet smiles and baked goods that they made just for you. They’d stay with you in the infirmary until late at night, playing boisterous rounds of Uno and exchanging stories of their own childhood mishaps with their mutation. Kurt Wagner was a delight to speak to—you quite enjoyed your conversations with the lively teleporter. Scott Summers was a handsome fellow, who had acquired a broken arm from a training accident, which gave him a good excuse to hang around you. Charles often visited you as well, each time asking once again if you were planning on making your residence here permanent. He even offered you a job to teach the kids here some science—which you kindly declined.

The friendly nature of the mansion and the people residing there really made you want to stay.

But you knew you shouldn’t.

Especially not when Logan was so clearly avoiding you—it was a tell-tale sign that you were definitely overstaying your welcome.

You’d only seen him a small handful of times since you arrived. Lingering in the hallways, passing by the door, and once in Charles’ office when you dropped by to ask him a question. He had stalked away with nary a sound, not even bothering to spare you a glance.

So it was quite the surprise when he stepped into the infirmary while you were packing a small duffel bag with travel necessities nearly two weeks later, practically bristling at the thought of you leaving. Leaving when he hadn’t even said a single word to you. His jaw clenched.

“L… Logan?” you asked, nearly dropping the shirt you were holding out of shock. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

He stared at you for a long while, unsure of what to say. The man was on his way to a bar for a beer or two before he caught sight of you practically flying across the room in a rush to pack. He was not prepared for this conversation at all. A part of him wished you could just read his thoughts like Charles could, because his mind was running a mile a minute. There were just too many things he should’ve said, too many things he waited too long to say. And none of it seemed to want to come out.

So he opted to heave out a grand sigh, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, not once breaking eye contact with you. You had awkwardly resigned to folding the last few pieces of clothing, stuffing them into the bag.

The action prompted Logan to husk out, “You’re leaving.”

It was more of a statement than a question. Your muscles tensed at his voice. He seemed angry—frustrated—and you weren’t entirely sure if it was directed towards you, or himself.

“I have no place here,” you whispered, words nearly lost to the deafening silence.

Logan’s brows furrowed. “This is a school—a home for mutants. You belong here.”

Fixing him with a curious expression, you zipped up your bag, shaking your head. “It’s not fair to you, Logan. I can’t just keep pretending that me being around doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“So you’re leaving because of me.” Logan pushed off the wall, stalking towards you until he stood just in front of you. This close, you could smell the faint cigar smoke on him, accompanied with a fresh pine-like aroma. He smelled like the forest, like sitting in front of a fire place with a mug of coffee cradled in your palms. A lump formed in your throat, grip tightening on the strap of the bag.

“I’m leaving for you,” you corrected. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did all those awful things to you. I know it doesn’t absolve me of anything but—I really did think I was helping you. Oh… and thank you. For coming back and saving me.”

The hardness to Logan’s features seemed to soften just a bit. He watched you keenly, studying the genuine tenderness to your eyes, the way your lips screwed to the side in a fruitless effort to stave away the tears.

“Hey,” he said, stepping even closer. “I forgive you, bub. I forgive you, alright? Stop beating yourself up. Charles told me you thought you were helping me—and I believe it. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, the man truly responsible is dead, thanks to you. You helped me escape, remember?”

Your eyes flickered from the ground to meet his. “Of course I remember.”

A low rumble resonated from Logan’s chest. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing for damn near killing you. I found you passed out in the snow and I—I was terrified. I carried you, worried to death the entire time, thinkin’ you were going to die on me. But Charles found us—and you lived. We both lived. I want you to stay. Hell, if you want to leave, then go ahead. The door’s wide open. But don’t let it be because of me.”

He watched as your shoulders trembled ever so slightly, then sagged as you loosened your hold on the duffel bag. Relief seeped through his bones. For a moment, he was scared you were really going to leave.

Without another word, Logan nodded, stepping back. He turned to walk out of the infirmary, itching for nice, cold beer. Or two. Probably five. Oh, who was he kidding. He could blaze through twenty bottles and barely feel buzzed.

“Logan,” you called out.

He stopped by the doorway without turning.

“Thank you,” you croaked, wiping away a stray tear. A happy one. Maybe you could even ask if the job Charles had offered you was still on the table.

A minuscule smile played by the corner of his lips. He ducked his head, and strode away.

ONE MONTH LATER.

The snow was thicker than ever before. Nearly everybody was outside, either making rotund little snowmen with carrots for noses or playing a game of dodgeball. You caught sight of Kurt teleporting just above Rogue to dump a large armful of snow atop her head. You huffed out a laugh from behind the window when she started spewing out a long string of curses, cheeks tinted red from the cold.

Movement from your peripheral vision made you turn your head to look out the other window. You were met with the lovely sight of Logan hauling lumber nearly double his size from just over the hill, a layer of snowflakes icing the top of his dark tresses. You shook your head, wondering why he hadn’t asked anyone for help.

Ever the lone wolf, he was.

Commotion from the other window made you turn once more, watching with a snort when the kids began pelting Logan with dozens of snowballs, laughing with unbridled glee. The chuckles died away when the burly man dropped all the wood he was carrying, rolling up his sleeves with a wolfish grin. They screamed, scurrying away whilst hiccuping with laughter.

“Quite chilly outside,” Charles’ voice broke out from beside you. “Come have a hot chocolate with me.”

“If this is your way of bribing me to grade your classes’ papers, I’ll have you know I’m not easily swayed,” you teased, though fell into step beside him as he led you into his office. “I’ve got my own class to attend to.”

Despite only knowing Charles for around a month now, the two of you have grown very fond of each other. He was like a big brother to you—just as the rest of the X-Men had gradually become your family.

The professor scoffed. “That was one time! I just wanted your expertise, was all.” He gestured to the array of mugs on his desk, then to the thermos right beside them. “Please, help yourself. Paper grading wasn’t really what I wanted to discuss with you. I have another proposition to make you.”

You arched a brow while pouring the both of you a generous serving of thick, creamy hot chocolate. “Always with the propositions, Charles,” you said, sipping on your drink with a hum. “What is it?”

“I want you to join our missions.”

The lighthearted nature of your conversation visibly seemed to sour. “What?” you asked, placing your mug down. “Charles, I thought we made this clear—”

“You don’t use your powers, yes. I’m well aware. Let me rephrase. I want to help you… er, reacquaint yourself with your abilities. Just to try it out. And perhaps if all goes smoothly, you’d make a remarkably valuable member on our team. I promise, if we try it out and things go south, I’ll let it go. Never speak a word of it to anybody.” There was an earnest tone to his voice, hopeful and contagiously optimistic.

Your finger traced the rim of the mug, pursing your lips in thought. “Just to try it out?”

He nodded. “Just to try it out. I’m curious for you, Y/N. Haven’t you ever wanted to be able to control your powers?”

“More than anything in the entire world,” you murmured quietly, voice cracking.

It took me a while to control my powers, too, Charles said, but his lips weren’t moving. It took you a moment to realize that he was speaking to you telepathically. The key is patience. And I do believe with enough time, you can gain control of yours as well. Imagine how many children who are struggling with their own mutations you’d be able to help if you had a grasp of your powers.

“You’re one hell of a motivational speaker,” you snarked after a moment to mull over his offer, despite the smile fiddling at the corner of your lips. “Alright, Charles. You convinced me. When do we start?”

The large, antique grandfather clock in your office merrily trilled thrice just as the hands turned to three in the afternoon. You glanced away from the homework papers you were grading, before filing them away for you to finish off later. You were in need of a long overdue break. Rising from your chair, you groaned softly as your bones popped with the stretch, rolling your shoulders to ease the mild tension.

Training all night with Charles yesterday certainly took both a physical and mental toll on you.

You needed to get out of your office for a bit—take a walk to clear your head. As you donned your coat and a dark yellow beanie to tuck just over the top of your ears because they grew particularly cold in the harsh winters, you strode out the doors.

Before you could make your way to the snowy outdoors, you passed by one of the training rooms, where you heard a familiar gruff voice.

Logan was teaching a group of about a dozen kids—self-defense class, if you could recall. He was moving his arms about animatedly, demonstrating with a dummy that seemed to be a brush away from falling apart. The kids were watching with rapt fascination, gasping in unison when Logan speared the poor thing straight through the abdomen.

A small grin splayed over your features as you leaned against the doorway.

A young boy raised his hand, asking, “When are we gonna be able to practice?”

Logan sheathed his claws and crossed his arms. “I’ll let you practice with your own dummies next week. But for now you just watch and learn—Y/N? What’re you doin’ here?”

Blinking at suddenly being shoved into the spotlight, you sheepishly stepped forward and waved to the kids. “Just wanted to see what all the fuss is about with Mr. Howlett’s famous self-defense class. Heard it’s the students’ second favorite class.”

“Oh, yeah?” Logan chuckled, arching an eyebrow to the rest of the class. “And what would be their favorite, then?”

You grinned. “Mine, of course.” The kids groaned in protest, though laughing at your blatant sarcasm. You waved them away with a roll of your eyes. “Oh, hush. You guys love science.”

Snorting, Logan propped his fists onto his hips and directed a roguish grin towards you. “It’s not a competition—even though they obviously like me better.” He turned back to the dummy with a nod. “Anyways, where was I—er, yes, Rogue?”

The student’s arm was stuck up in the air, an excited grin painted over her lips. “Why don’t you and Professor L/N try dueling each other? I’m sure it’d teach us a lot more than that dummy,” Rogue drawled in her thick Southern accent. The rest of the students murmured their agreement, bobbing their heads to the idea. Besides, they were all curious about your infamous mutation—they’d never seen you in action before.

Immediately, your stomach dropped and you were quick to shake your head just enough for Logan to see. His features seemed to soften with understanding.

“That’s enough, settle down,” Logan gruffed. “Professor L/N came here to watch, it would be unfair to spring an entire demonstration on them without any warning. The dummy’ll do just fine. Look, it’s in tip-top shape!” His burly fist wrapped around the dummy’s throat.

And the head popped right off.

Logan blinked, stunned. The class burst into laughter. You joined them, hiding a smile behind your palm. Logan watched you keenly, before a crooked smile broke through his rough features, chuckling lowly under his breath.

“I’m sorry about them,” he said, making his way to you once he had dismissed all his pupils (though not before assigning them a butt-load of homework that made all of them groan exasperatedly). “I know you weren’t expecting that.”

Waving his words away, you were quick to shake your head. “No, no, it’s alright. I’m just… not entirely comfortable with using my powers yet. Charles and I are still working through it—I’m not really at the stage of combating an experienced mutant as yourself. Anyways, I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you’ve got a ton of school-related errands to run.”

You crossed your arms with a hesitant quirk of your lips to assure him that you were okay, watching him keenly as he tried to mirror your expression. It came out more as an awkward stretch of his mouth, so he dropped it soon after.

Logan sucked on the rooftop of his mouth, before stoutly nodding, and turned around to walk away. You’d mentioned he probably had school-related errands to run. Hah. As if Logan ever worked outside of the classes he taught. All he had in mind was to head over to a bar and drink as many beers as the barkeeper would allow him.

By the time he reached the doorway, Logan abruptly stopped in his tracks. He could feel your eyes watching him go, practically searing the skin on the back of his neck.

“God damn it,” he whispered quietly beneath his breath. He couldn’t just leave you alone. Not when his class thrust you into the spotlight like that. Definitely not because he felt an irrepressible urge to spend more time with you. And especially not because he thought that little grin of yours was so darned cute. Of course not.

He turned back to you with a set expression, jaw clenched tight. If you didn’t know any better, he appeared to be angry. Or constipated. One of the two.

Either way, you were surprised to hear him addressing you by the doorway, in a brusque tone.

“The school day’s over. I’m heading out to grab a drink. You wanna come with?”

It took you a moment to respond, a little too frazzled to formulate a coherent thought.

“Yeah,” you finally answered, slightly breathless. Logan pointedly looked away when you beamed at him. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

His thigh was pressed up against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off of him through his jeans. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, which leaned against the bar’s countertop, palms cradled around his tenth (or was it his eleventh?) frosty mug of beer.

You were slowly nursing your fifth drink, snorting into the rim when Logan made an off-hand comment about how stupid Scott looked on one of their most recent missions.

“I take it you don’t like him?”

“Who?” Logan asked, turning his head so he could look at you. Beneath the dim amber-glow of the bar’s lighting, your skin appeared flushed, eyes just a tad brighter. You were too damned close to him.

Nose wrinkling, you nudged his shoulder with yours. “Scott, dummy.”

His eyebrow rose. “Why, do you want me to like him? Do you like him?”

The questions made you splutter beer all over the counter as you choke-laughed, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “You’re not answering my question, Lo.” You began giggling again, before downing the rest of your mug, swaying slightly on the leather stool. Logan had half a mind to clamp his palm over your thigh to keep you from tipping over.

“I like Scott, yeah. He’s nice. I know he has a thing for Jean though—I’ve been trying to convince him to ask her out but Scott keeps saying it isn’t the right time. Jean likes him all the same, too. They’re just really stupid.” A fond smile grew on your lips and you began laughing once more.

Logan watched you in amusement, just before ordering another beer for himself. You were a giggly drunk, Logan realized, as you buried your face into your hands as uncontrollable laughter shook through you.

“Alright, that’s enough drinks for you. What’s got you crackin’ up, bub?” Logan sighed in part-exasperation and part-mirth when you leaned back so far your stool began to capsize. He was quick to shoot his arm out and yank you back forward. This only made you laugh harder, for reasons unbeknownst to him.

“I just—” You had to pause to heave a breath through your cackling. “Your hair just looks so funny—why does it stand up like that?”

God, you were so drunk. Your hand reached out to pat down the tufts of hair sticking upwards, but missed the mark and instead brushed over his jaw, slightly prickly with day-old stubble.

Logan watched you carefully as your laughter died away, a strange look shadowing your once gleeful one. His eyes flickered down to your lips, which were parted ever so slightly in thought. “You look much younger than you used to—back in that tank.”

Gently, he captured your wrist and stroked his thumb over your palm once, before setting it back down by your side. “Let’s go home. You’re drunk.”

“Yes, sir. ” You mock-saluted as he helped you off the stool and offered his arm when you nearly toppled over your own feet.

You swayed to and fro when walking back to the mansion, hiccupping between every giggle as you told Logan about this one time Kurt teleported into the kitchen and scared you so badly you hit him with a frying pan. Logan let himself laugh at that one.

By the time the two of you reached your room, a good night was right on the tip of his tongue before it was yanked away from him when you grabbed him by the shirt collar and tugged him towards you in a drunken fashion, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your system. A startled noise fell from his lungs, and the corner of your eyes wrinkled as you smiled. You swiftly planted a soft kiss to his cheek, nose slotted right against his cheekbone. He was frozen to the spot, unsure of how to react.

“You’re a sweetheart. Good night, Lo,” you murmured into his skin with a lopsided smile.

You were drunk. So very drunk.

Logan had to remind himself of this when you pulled away. You wouldn’t have done that if you were sober.

The door groaned as you pushed it open, moonlight spilling over your features. You promptly slammed the door in his face, and he heard you giggling behind it just a second after.

He wasn’t able to snap out of his reverie until an entire minute later.

“G’night, bub,” he mumbled, knowing full and well that you were probably passed out on top of your bed by now. No doubt you’d have a raging hangover tomorrow. He shook his head, before heading off to his own room, a warm sensation clawing at his chest.

The familiar voice of a certain professor rang out across the kitchen, and you groaned at the sudden noise. The hangover headache pulsating through your skull wasn’t nearly as bad as it was when you had initially woken up, but it was still there. And Charles most certainly wasn’t helping.

“Morning,” he exclaimed with a knowing smile, eyeing you with a look you misliked. You grumbled under your breath, before shoveling a spoonful of scrambled eggs into your mouth so you didn’t have to respond to him. Charles didn’t seem to mind, continuing his amiable chatter. “I noticed you weren’t in last night.”

Humming in confirmation, you lifted your mug to guzzle down more apple juice.

“Funny coincidence,” Charles quipped, wheeling up right beside you. Without even looking at him, you just knew that his eyebrows were raised suggestively. “Logan was also nowhere in the mansion yesterday.”

You scowled, then set the mug down. “We just had a couple drinks together.”

“Mmh, right.” Charles narrowed his eyes, clearly in disbelief. “Well, nice to see that the two of you have… warmed up to each other. I’ve got to head back now but don’t forget about our session at three—just because you’re hungover doesn’t mean you can skip out on me.”

A discontent noise erupted from your lungs and you stuck your tongue out at his back when he turned away.

“I saw that,” said Charles, amusement lacing his tone. “Well, I didn’t actually see it. I know you did it, though.”

And with that, he left.

You groaned, before lowering your head to rest against the cool kitchen countertop.

A moment later, a voice disrupted the rare-found quiet. Logan.

“You alright, bub?”

When you lifted your face up, you blinked away the colorful blurs spotting your vision, Logan coming into view. He was wearing a simple white tank top tucked into a pair of faded jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. You eyed his biceps warily, which glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. You swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat.

“I’m good. What’re you up to?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Logan replied sheepishly. “Was in the training room all night.”

He leaned against the doorway, a mild smile itching at his lips upon observing your disheveled state. Your hair was mussed, wearing a simple wrinkly white shirt and a pair of grey shorts. The expression on your face told him that you were still working off the hangover.

“Wanna talk about it?” you asked, patting the seat beside you.

Logan pursed his lips, before moving towards you. “Yeah,” he said, swinging his leg over the chair. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The cold of the porcelain sent a shiver up your spine as you slumped against the toilet seat, grumbling under your breath. Logan watched you keenly as he dampened a towel, bunching it up in his hand, kneeling down in front of you.

Your first mission as an X-Man was nothing short of disastrous.

You’d warned Charles—told him you weren’t ready to use your powers in an uncontrolled setting—but he’d assured you that you’d be fine. Besides, the rest of your teammates were there for you.

Except the Brotherhood had taken down everybody else and you were the last person standing—and you lost control of your powers. Again.

It wasn’t until Logan stumbled towards you, pushing through the tornado of glass shards whirling around your hyperventilating form, barely even noticing the cuts appearing over his skin. His healing factor was quick to weave together the broken skin—all that mattered was getting to you. Your explosive powers were enough to severely alarm the Brotherhood, and they thankfully retreated soon after your outburst, though he doubted they’d stay away for too long.

Logan had grabbed you, pulling you close until your face was flush against his chest, cradling you atop the cold, hardened dirt, mumbling sweet nothings that you couldn’t really make out into your hair. When the air stilled, you pulled your face away, tear-stricken and bloodied.

The incident was far too similar to the first time you used your powers—when your best friend’s life was taken as a consequence.

A single, searing tear meandered down your face at the memory, and you bit down on your lip to quell the sob rising in your throat.

“Hey, bub.” Logan took your chin between his fingers, grounding you back to reality. It was just him and you—in a small bathroom. He was close, so close that you could see the buzzing lights reflected in the burnt umber of his irises, or how he had a small, faded birthmark just beside his left eye. He tilted your head up so you’d meet his concerned gaze. “It’s okay. You did good. You drove ‘em away. We would’ve all been in hot shit if it weren’t for you. Storm was knocked unconscious, Kitty and Rogue had their powers stripped away, Scott was no match against Quicksilver, and the rest of us were this close to being ripped apart. You did good.”

Your stomach lurched uneasily. “Feels more like I fucked everything up. I told Charles I wasn’t ready.”

Instead of a reply, Logan merely sighed, shaking his head. Softly he swiped the damp towel across the bloody gashes on your face, his fingers on your chin moving to cup your other cheek. His palm was cold against the flushed heat of your face.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered, the usual gruff tone of his voice nowhere to be found. “Wish you had the healing factor instead of me.”

“Nah,” you replied softly, wincing as you leaned forward, closer to him. The large slash over your abdomen from a broken metal pipe Magneto sent hurtling your way burned with every shift of your body. “You’d be dead a thousand times over if it weren’t for your healing factor. And I’m really glad you’re not dead.”

The towel on your cheekbone paused for a second. Logan scrutinized you for a moment, before returning to the task at hand. “Yeah, I guess I’m glad, too.”

A comfortable silence thickened between the two of you, only interrupted by your quiet groans of pain, which were always followed up by Logan’s sheepish apology.

“I still haven’t graded the kids’ homework papers—they’re expecting it back on Monday,” you gritted out, hand shooting forward to grip Logan’s shoulder, nails digging into his collarbone when he moved down to clean up the shallow wound across your torso.

He quirked an eyebrow towards you in amusement. “You’re crazy, you know that? Almost died today and all you’re thinkin’ about is grading papers. Pfft.”

“That’s not all I’m thinking about,” you weakly protested, smacking his hand away when he playfully pinched your thigh.

After wiping away all the crusted blood and dirt on your brand new X-Men suit, he was satisfied to see that your gash wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. He hauled himself onto the edge of the bathtub so he was sitting right across from you. “Yeah? What else are you thinking about?”

“You.” The single word came out as nothing but a low mutter.

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or worried,” he replied with a roguish grin, pupils darting between your eyes and your raw-bitten lips.

You huffed out a laugh. “Maybe both.” His forehead leaned against yours as you breathed him in, relishing in his calming presence. “I really like you, Lo.”

Those five words were what spurred him to push forward, slanting his lips onto yours, stealing your breath away. You made a small noise of surprise, before practically melting into him, looping your sore arms over his neck and tugging him all the closer. He kissed you slowly, careful about where to place his hands, because your body was littered with fresh scars. He settled on just above your waist, smoothing his thumbs out over the back of your ribs, as if to constantly reassure himself that you were here. You were okay.

His nose bumped into yours, and it hurt to smile—oh, it practically burned with each kiss—but you smiled into him anyway. Because for Logan, it was worth the pain.

“Ow,” you lightly complained when he accidentally knocked his knee against your busted one. “Watch it, old man.”

A growl caught in his throat. “You know, I was gonna say I really liked you, too, but I don’t think that applies anymore.”

You burst into a fit of laughter, clutching at your stomach a second later, moaning out with pain. “Don’t make me laugh! You ass!”

He could only smile at that, roping you towards him once more with his fingers anchored over your jaw. This time, the kiss was hot and heavy, more confident. Your hands ran through his hair, gently tugging at his roots, which made pleasant shivers spider down his spine. It was needy with want, his kisses wandering from your lips to the apples of your cheeks, to your trembling throat.

The hand on your back was only starting to traverse downwards when the door flung open, revealing a smug Rogue and an awfully mortified Kurt just behind her.

“I knew it! I knew y’all were a thing!” Rogue called out, clapping her hands excitedly. “Scott totally owes me twenny bucks!”

She scuttled away gleefully, leaving the blue elf staring at the two of you with wide, amber eyes, completely still.

“You can close the door, Kurt,” you hesitantly told him, before Logan could snarl out something unsavory. You were uncomfortably perched halfway between the toilet seat and Logan’s lap, with his hand flush over your ass.

“Er… right… I’ll just use the bathroom upstairs,” he breathily stumbled, before teleporting away in a hazy cloud of sulphuric fumes.

“Damn elf didn’t close the door. Of fuckin’ course.” Logan groaned, pulling himself away from you with a scowl. “You alright, darlin’?”

An embarrassed grin replaced the initial shock of being found. “Yeah, I think so. You?”

“Worst night of my life. The entire school’s gonna know by tomorrow,” Wolverine grumbled, before fondly glancing towards you. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, though.”

You hobbled up with his support, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to his cheek. “You think the entire team bet money on us?”

“Oh, yeah,” Logan chortled as he helped you out of the communal bathroom, heading upstairs to your bedroom. “Charlie bet a hundred bucks on us. I heard him talking to Storm about it.”

You side-eyed him with amusement. “So did he win?”

“Nope,” Logan said, popping the ‘p’, looking far too smug to be ripping away a hundred dollars from his old friend. “Thought neither of us would have the balls to confess until next month.”

“You’re sick,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “Did you kiss me just to spite him?”

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” countered Logan, shoving the door to your room open with his shoulder. “Professor losing a hundred bucks was just the cherry on top, you know?”

You sank onto your bed, dragging Logan with you, barely giving him enough time to slam the door shut. “Yeah,” you mumbled, pulling him into yet another kiss. “You’re awful, Lo.”

“Love you, too.”

Placing your hand on his chest, you pulled away hesitantly, unsure if you heard him right. “Yeah?”

Logan smiled, all warm and genuine. “Yeah.”

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greenbloodvulcan · 1 year

Photo

Logan runs into a certain passenger more than once. She gets under his skin.

A/N: I change POV’s based on vibes only so sorry if this is hard to read :(

Word count: 3,427

It wouldn’t have changed a damn thing for him, had it just been that once. He’d have forgotten about her the very next day; his appreciation of both her silence and her relative sobriety level would have been no more than a fleeting observation. It would have continued on just the same. Dry heat, dust, drink, and a deep nothingness that blankets every second of every day. His life was never going to be fucking sunshine and rainbows; his DNA made damn sure of that. He bears it all for Charles- the monotony. The obnoxious passengers who reeked of drink more than he did; who slurred professions of love and insisted that, no, they did not need him to pull over, they hadn’t even had that much. He wasn’t sure who he found worse- the drunks or the socially inept who talked his ear off like he looked like someone who gave a shit.

So it’s a relief when she slides into the backseat with mostly clear eyes and a small smile, meeting his gaze in the rearview. The smell of alcohol is faint, and though he’s parked outside a strip of bars at 11 at night, he notices the scrubs and the bag she tosses in beside her. He confirms her name and she nods with a soft “yes”. He waits until he hears the click of the seatbelt before pulling away from the curb, nothing but the radio and the hum of the engine surrounding them. She doesn’t tap away at her phone incessantly, feeling the need to feign busyness to fill the silence that is to be expected between two complete strangers. She just leans her head on the window, the bright lights of the nighttime landscape flashing across her face. He doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t ask him about his day or talk about how the weather is finally cooling down or something else equally as meaningless. He keeps his eyes on the road the rest of the drive, the same highway signs and landmarks he’s memorized fading in his periphery.

It takes maybe 15 minutes to pull off the road into a small apartment complex. It’s dead silent at this hour, and she directs him to the left and points at a set of stairs beneath one of the light posts that actually works. “Right here is fine. Thank you-” she pauses and looks down at her phone, “Logan. I appreciate it.” He grumbles out a “sure” but her smile only widens before she pushes the door open and slides out. “Have a good night.” He nods at her and waits until she disappears up the landing and he hears a door close. It’s late, and he plans to drive another hour or two to avoid Caliban’s very personal questions and the concern in his voice for Charles that has Logan thinking back to a mansion filled with limp bodies and broken screams. He keeps driving.

She sees him again two weeks later, by pure chance. The car she can’t afford to fix means it was bound to happen sooner or later. She’d gotten by the last month with bus rides at god forsaken hours of the morning and rideshares when she’d had her fill of sticky plastic seats, the smell of urine, and people who didn’t see anything wrong with having conversations on speaker in public. She can spare the few bucks most of the time- twice a week, sometimes three. Tonight is one of those nights. She didn’t think much of it when she ordered the ride, only putting the name to the face when she opens the door and sees the man with tired eyes, a rumpled shirt, and a rugged handsomeness she admonishes herself for noticing. “Oh hey. Again,” she greets, pulling her backpack onto her lap and hugging it to her chest. He raises his eyebrows at her and turns around in this seat again with a grunted hey.

It’s much the same as the last time and the silence that settles is so blissful she’s surprised she doesn’t fall asleep. As she’s leaving she feels possessed to tell the man- Logan, that she hopes she gets him next time too. She doesn’t expect anything other than a one word response but he turns to look at her and a disbelieving chuckle escapes him. He runs a hand through his hair and eyes her with a scrutiny she’s not used to. They’re not quite green and not quite brown and it’s stupid to think because she doesn’t know him but she wonders what they’d look like without all that hurt. “And why is that?” he questions gruffly. Ignoring the flush that she’s certain has risen to her face she speaks truthfully, “The quiet. It’s nice. Don’t get too much of that most days,” she replies, motioning to her scrub clad body. She sees his eyes focus on the badge clipped to her collar and he nods, “I fucking believe it.” He nods at her as he unlocks the door. “See you later,” she calls. “Maybe,” he replies.

---

“What, are you requesting me or something?” he asks incredulously. That earns him a laugh- a light and airy sound that he would have found strange, because it wasn’t that funny, but he’s picked her up outside a bar, and her eyes are glazed over and the smell is so much stronger than the first time. She must notice his weariness, because she’s leaning back in her seat with her hands up in surrender. “I’ll be good I promise,” she smiles at him then, and it’s so genuine he allows himself to believe her. He tells her that she better not throw up with a grumble and she’s nodding, “Yes, Mr. Logan.” He sends her a look and pulls the car out of park. She keeps her promise the first 5 minutes. It’s so quiet and the road so familiar, he almost forgets about the stranger in his backseat. But then she’s breaking the silence, and her voice is no longer cheery and playful; she’s nearly whispering and her voice is cracking as she makes her inquiry, “Can I tell you something?”

He wants to be rude and tell her he’s not a fucking psychiatrist and he’s honestly the last person anyone should want to have a heart to heart with but he doesn’t. She’s been perfectly nice to him and even if he had a habit of being an asshole more often than not nowadays, he knew she didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t meet her eyes in the rearview. “Go ahead, kid.”

“We lost someone today. And I just- I couldn’t stand the thought of just going home and being alone with it, you know? And it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last and maybe I should just be used to it by now but, I just can’t. And next year, I won’t be under someone, it’ll be my responsibility and only mine and I-” she’s crying now and he hears her trying hard to stifle the tears. “Anyway, that’s why I drank so fucking much. Sorry. God, I’m-” she falters and quiets lamely.

His knuckles are turning white against the steering wheel and he’s thinking of a streak of white hair, and blue skin that’s turning a sickly gray and the woman he couldn’t have at the foot of the stairs and he knows that no amount of liquor can make you forget. “You don’t,” he says. “You don’t get used to it. Just get better at hiding it.”

She’s wiping at her eyes and she’s leaning forward now, her chin resting on the slope of the passenger seat. “I’ll just always feel responsible. Like I didn’t do enough.”

He’s pulled into her lot when he finally turns and meets her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

---

She’s too fucking embarrassed to risk seeing him again for several weeks. She knows very well how irrational she’s being, and she knows he must have dealt with far worse but she’s never been one to share the details of her life with near strangers. So she braves the bus and the noise and the smell and the headaches that plague her as a result.

The next time she sees him, it isn’t in his car. She’s leaving the hospital, and like many third year residents, had survived on nothing but a granola bar and coffee. Her feet are aching and she briefly considers just going home but she’s got the appetite of a hungover undergrad so she stops in at the nearby diner. She’s greeted by the smell of pancake batter and bacon grease and for that she ignores the sticky table and water spotted silverware. She’s about to look around for a waitress when she sees him two booths away, staring very intensely at the coffee mug before him. His eyes suddenly meet hers and she raises her hand in a hesitant wave before looking away and flagging down the waitress. She’s a customer–an acquaintance really, so she’s surprised when she hears the shuffling of footsteps and he drops into the seat across from her. She meets his eyes and leans forward slightly, “I’m not following you I promise,” she tells him and that earns her a gruff laugh, “I’d hope you’d have better things to do. Doctor.”

He’s different from every time before. Looser. His white collared shirt is unbuttoned and rolled at the sleeves, suit jacket abandoned. She notices for the first time just how imposing he is, all hard muscle and tan skin and eyes that seem to burn right through her. But they’re the slightest bit unfocused, and then his demeanor makes sense. “Yeah, just a thing or two,” she tells him with a smile. He surprises her again by asking if her day was better than the last time he saw her. She skips over more apologies, since he clearly isn’t bothered and she nods at him thoughtfully. “Yeah, actually. Thanks. It’s hard, you know. The ER. It’s people at their most vulnerable and someone’s life is literally in your hands and yes, it’s fast and it’s exhausting but, I love it. I really do,” she finishes, unable to help herself from smiling at the admission. Her plate is delivered then, and it takes everything in her to not inhale the pancake stack. Rather, she stabs at the eggs first and looks expectantly at the man before her, “What about you?”

“Oh yeah, always wanted to be a driver. Nothing like it,” he answers. She rolls her eyes at his tone, “You’re just full of surprises tonight aren’t you. Who would’ve thought you were capable of making a joke.”

He brings the mug to his lips, downing the remainder of the black coffee and leaning back into the red vinyl. He shrugs, “Shit happened and a move across the country made sense.” He’s looking down at the table, fingers tapping against the sticky laminate and she doesn’t miss the scars between his knuckles. They’re fresh, the skin still puckered and pink and it only adds to the mystery of the man before her. The one so dead set on hiding. She nods, but they both know she doesn’t buy it. “I’ll get it out of you, one day,” she replies, “I’m not known for quitting.”

He huffs out a laugh, “It’s your mistake,” he responds, but those hazel eyes meet hers with a look she can’t quite place. She responds in kind, mimicking his shrug before cutting up the pancake stack before her. They sit in silence for a while and he looks incredibly amused at the enthusiasm with which she eats. She slouches down in her seat with a sigh when she finishes, “Wow I really fucking needed that.”

He nods at her, “Gotta take care of yourself kid.” She raises her eyebrow at him indicating she could say the same thing about him and he shrugs again, “Yeah, fine. You win.” He gestures towards the window, “Going to head out.”

She smiles at him lightly, “You’ll likely see me again really soon,” she admits. “Car’s still busted.”

It’s when he stands up to go that she notices. He tries to keep his arm by his side, but it comes up to his torso just as he grits his teeth and winces. He brings his hand up to signal that he’s fine and she can stay seated but she’s standing in front of him and giving him a look that says that she knows better. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and makes to move past her, “Nothing it’s fine.” She looks down at his shirt and then back up at him with a fierceness in her eyes, “The blood seeping through your shirt would suggest otherwise, Logan.” He’s about to open his mouth to protest but she grabs his calloused hand and pushes against his chest with her free hand, keeping him in place. “You’re going to let me help because I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t. I don’t care what happened, just let me.” He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh knowing it’s a losing battle. The woman who barely cleared his shoulders wasn’t going to let it go.

She leans down and slings her bag over her shoulder and motions toward the bathroom. There’s barely enough space in the dingy men’s room and it smells strongly of cheap air freshener and bleach. She pushes the toilet lid down with her foot and motions for him to sit before digging out the first aid kit from her bag and handing it to him while she scrubs her hands with several pumps of soap. “Of course you have one of these.”

She gives him a pointed look, “Never know when the mysterious chauffeur with a secret past is going to be bleeding out in the 24/7 diner.”

He’s taken his shirt off and suddenly she’s crouched between his knees, her brows furrowed. There’s a wound along his abdomen, maybe four inches long. The stitches he’d clearly done himself had split. But it’s not just that. His torso is a mirage of scars, both old and new–shiny pink strips that stand out from the rest of his tanned surface, the jagged edges pulling at his taught skin. Then she sees the rounded indentations and she’s been in the ER enough to know that they’re bullet holes and she pushes down the worry that is suddenly taking root in her chest. She can feel his eyes studying her, waiting for a reaction–for an explanation. She doesn’t give him one.

He towers above her and is easily twice as wide, and for all his roughness, she can’t help but find him beautiful. She stands to get a stack of paper towels that she presses to his skin as gently as she can. “Sorry,” she murmurs when she feels him tense beneath her fingers. He feels like a furnace. “Hold that a sec.” She’s pulling out gloves, then scissors and tweezers. She pulls his hand away when the towels are soaked through. He closes his eyes as she starts to remove the old thread, and she somehow stays focused on the split skin and not the fact that she’s close enough to hear every change in his breathing and smell traces of cologne and whiskey.

She doesn’t question him while she works and he’s grateful for it. She gives him a smile when she says, “The stitches weren’t even that bad, so good job.” He tries to relax, but he finds himself tensing at the feel of her fingers on his skin, the intimacy of it, however necessary it was, an almost foreign concept to him as of late. She keeps mumbling apologies anytime he does, like she’s the reason he’s got a knife wound. A few years ago, he might have said something crass about her position between his legs but now? Right now, he can’t fathom why she cares so much to begin with.

He lets his eyes fall to her face as she concentrates on threading the hooked needle. Some of her dark hair has escaped the knot at the nape of her neck and her tongue pokes out from between her lips as she works, her brows furrowed in concentration. She holds the suture in one hand while the other grabs hold of a small brown bottle. She meets his eyes apologetically. “This is going to sting.” He only nods as she pours it over the wound, clenching his teeth as he inhales. “Ok, this is going to feel worse but I’ll be as quick as I can,” she assures him.

The dim yellow light from the flickering fixture above them has her squinting as she leans forward and braces her forearms above his knees. “I’ll be fine,” he tells her when she glances up at him with another apology. He closes his eyes as he feels the tugging on his skin, his fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs. A few moments pass before she leans back and reaches for the dressing. “All done,” she announces, pressing the bandage down and removing her gloves.

He stands and moves to re-button his shirt but she reaches down and pushes his bloody hands away. “Let me.” There’s barely three inches between them and he’s suddenly very aware of the heat from her skin and the way her nimble fingers seem to take longer than necessary working the buttons through. Then, her palms linger on his chest when she’s done and all he can smell is her perfume and all he can hear is his pulse between his ears. She’s peering up at him with those deep, dark eyes and she looks so innocent and kind and young–everything he is not.

But she’s more than that; she’s fucking brilliant and dedicated and she spends her days pulling people from the brink of death so he doesn’t get why she’s looking at him that way. Why she’d seen all that she had in the last 20 minutes and still wants anything to do with him at all. He’s vague and defensive and she can’t have much of an idea of who he is at all and yet she’s still there, looking at him like that.

It’s worse when she runs her thumb across the raised scar on his cheek and his eyes fall closed immediately and he almost forgets to breathe. His hand comes up to catch her wrist between calloused fingers and he wants to keep her from wasting any more time on him and his brain is screaming at him to just tell her no but he doesn’t. And it’s incredibly stupid because he knows how fucking terribly it always ends. Always. He drops her wrist and she catches his right hand, her thumb passing gently along the scars between his knuckles. It’s intoxicating- the feel of her skin on his and god its been so long. Her head is bowed as she maps out the scar tissue on the back of his hand and she’s so incredibly gentle and seemingly awestruck when her eyes meet his again that he feels his stomach drop because he wishes so badly that she didn’t care. That he didn’t.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. She smiles at him lightly, and he’s confused by the sadness that seems to overtake her features. “You’re so much more than I ever could have hoped, Logan. Please know that.” He decides then that his name on her lips is his new favorite sound. He almost opens his mouth to protest but he knows it will only upset her so he stays quiet. She drops his hand and then she has both palms on his chest again and soft lips against his cheek and he lets himself savor the proximity and the warmth and the scent of vanilla that surrounds her. He catches her waist before she can step away and her hands slide upwards to meet behind his neck. He bows his head to rest against her forehead and it takes all his restraint to not kiss her until she’s breathless. That soft, sweet smile has returned to her face and her dark eyes are shining. It’s almost enough to make him forget the grimy bathroom they’re standing in. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” she whispers and he feels his lips pull up at the corners before he can stop it.

He drives her home in his passenger seat.

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buckyownsmylife · 2 years

Note

Wifeyyyy

Here’s a thot….Logan using you like a toy 😏

"Fuck baby, yes." He'd groan while you just laid there and let him use you. "You're so fucking tight for me, such a good little whore letting me ruin you with my cock."

"Open your mouth," he'd order, slipping two of his thick fingers past your lips and well into your throat. "Choke on this for daddy, c'mon." You wanted to scream 'Oh my God'. You wanted to jut your hips back and fuck yourself on his cock, make a mess out of him just like he was doing to you, but you didn't.

You just laid there, and you took it. Just like you told him you would. But you figured there was nothing wrong with sucking on those fingers as if they were your cock, and Logan's responding groan let you know you were right.

Suddenly, another finger made its way to your backside, rubbing circles on your puckered hole. "What do you say, baby?" He asked, "Were you serious when you told me I could do whatever I wanted to you? Can I fuck you with my fingers here? Will you let me?"

All you had to do was nod and then he was spitting on your crack, wetting your hole so his monster of a finger wouldn't hurt so much as it slipped inside of your tiniest hole.

"Someday," he whispered, "I'm gonna put my cock in there."

#my drabbles #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #smut #logan howlett drabble #logan howlett drabbles #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett imagines #logan howlett fanfiction

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angelltheninth · 24 days

Text

Logan Growlett in the Sheets

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, growling/snarling, claws pop out, feral!Logan Howlett

Word count: 0.6k

Ao3

A/N: I'm so sorry for the bad pun. Don't look at me!

Many called Logan wild, feral, an animal. You're the only one who knew the true feral Logan, when he was complexly consumed by his deepest instincts, the instinct to fuck and to breed his cute girlfriend.

Every once in a while he would get like this, pounding into you from behind, strong hands spreading your thighs open for him, holding you against him so you don't move away from his cock. Although a chase isn't a bad idea for the future. Right now you're not going anywhere.

"Where do you think you're going dollface? We're not done yet, my cock's still got so much to give you." Logan rasped.

His hands moved up your body, to your back, across your shoulderblades, putting a bit of extra pressure on your squirming body. Was it wrong for you to rile him up more? To want him to lose control with you and fuck you into the bed harder, fuck you cunt full of his hard cock.

"Why would I go anywhere when your cock is inside me?" You felt him push it all the way inside you, "Fuck. Harder. Faster." The demands trembled on your lips, earning a deep growl in return. Logan's hands pushed you all the way down on the bed.

Trapped between his hard body and the bed you couldn't move much, but you could still clench your pussy around him whenever he pulled out. "Greedy little cunt you got there. I'll make sure to give it what it wants, it's been so good for me today. You take my cock so well, my perfectly made toy." Logan's hips kept snapping forward, slapping into yours, your ass smacked hard every time. "Does my girl want to come?"

"Yeah. I need to... around your cock." You glanced back in time to see him grin triumphally. "I've been a good girl, just like you said." And according to him good girls got to come all they wanted to.

He knew how to make that happen.

"I know what you need babygirl. You need a big load in you. A creampie to help you come." His cock pulsed at his own words, just as eager as your pussy was.

You weren't gonna beg for his cum. Not this time, there was no need to when Logan got like this. There was nothing in the universe that would make him stop making you come. His body tensed on top of yours, his legs pushed on either side of you, trapping you beneath him completely, enjoying every moan you made, and more importantly the slutty, wet sounds of your pussy taking his cock.

He pushes off for a brief moment, inhaled once before his claws popped out and stabbed into the bed.

You would have scolded him for ruining yet another bed if your brain wasn't turning into mush and you could actually form words. Unfortunately you could only whine, "Logan..." Repeating his name over and over while he rutted into your pussy, full balls slapping loud against your skin, "Come." Arching your back as much as you were able you clenched your pussy walls around him, making sure he stayed inside you while you shook with pleasure, barely able to think of anything anymore.

"Cum? I'll give you lots of cum, all of it. Like you need." He chuckled. He heard you right, didn't mean he would stop fucking you now. "Be so full of my cum it's gonna drip out. Or I suppose I could keep my cock in for a little while longer, maybe even all day, keep you here, fuck you when I feel like it."

Warmth rushed through your body as he pushed himself close, his cum spilling both inside and a bit on the outside as well.

"That's a lot. You better stay here." Logan barked out a laugh, his claws slowly retracting before his strong arms slipped under your stomach, one hand patting directly over your pussy. "We'll see if you get lucky this time." If the both of you get lucky.

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holylulusworld · 3 months

Text

Breed-Out

Summary: You woke the animal in Wolverine.

Pairing: Alpha!Wolverine x Omega!Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, scenting, fluff

A/N: A little drabble to get back into writing for my fav mutant.

Some days you want only cuddles.

Some days you want to feel his warmth and embrace.

Some days you want to make love and snuggle into his chest later.

But.

Some days you want him to be rough, and lay claim on you all over again. If you are on the edge and close to your heat, you only want him to breed you, and use your body for his own pleasure.

If you want him to be rough, he doesn’t make love to you, he’s mounting you like an animal. Making you keen and drool. Logan holds you down, by your shoulders, and takes what he wants.

You cry out his name and let him take control over your body and soul. It’s all you can do. With your body pinned to the mattress and his cock so deep inside of you making you mewl; you have no other choice but to give in to your primal needs.

Nothing but pure animalistic want courses through our veins, and you beg him for more, blinded by the need to have him inside of your body and to feel him fill you up.

Today is such a day.

“I’m gonna breed this cunt and fill you up,” he growls in your ear, making you shudder under your alpha. “Do you want me to get you full of my babies?”

“Yes,” you stutter and clutch the sheets tighter. “Please fill me up.”

He loses all control at your words. “Have my seed and let it grow then,” he growls and covers your body with his, now rutting into you. “Can you feel it?”

You whine low in your throat, sounding like a wounded animal when you grip him tightly.

“I love feeling you grip me tightly,” he pants in your neck. Logan works his cock into you with sloppy thrusts. “I love to cum inside of you even more.”

“Do it,” you challenge your alpha. So far he has refused to breed you. But tonight, he got lost in his instinct and didn’t think of protection or to pull out. “I want to feel it, alpha.”

“Fuck, you are the death of me.” His hips begin to stutter. “I don’t care if I get you round. I’ll never not breed this cunt from now on.”

Logan buries his face in your neck to sink his teeth into your flesh. He cums with a deep guttural growl while you tremble underneath him. “Perfect omega.”

“You good?” Logan softly asks. He always insisted on checking on every inch of your body after he got rough with you. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” you yawn and nuzzle in his chest. “Very good.”

“That’s good,” Logan kisses the top of your head. “Very good.” He drops his hand to your belly and slowly rubs it, imagining his child is growing in your womb.

Tags in reblog.

#a/b/o #wolverine #wolverine x reader #alpha!wolverine x omega!reader #smut #drabble #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader

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inkdrinkerworld · 9 months

Note

Logan would love when you sometimes mix it up and call him by James (which if I'm not mistaken is his real name) like something intimate about calling him by his true name

omg yes!!!

it’s early in the morning in when you’re feeling for him. he’s normally asleep beside you, snoring by your ear and his arms wrapped around you.

this morning he doesn’t and it’s weird.

you sit up, knuckling your eyes as you get out of bed- shoving your feet into your fluffy slippers.

logan had quarreled with you for not wearing them enough times. always going on about how ‘it’s cold in the morning, you’re gonna get sick.’

it’s silly really, you’re mutant, but you suppose his worrying comes from you not having his regeneration powers.

“lo?” you call, almost walking into the archway as you reach the living room.

“on the porch, princess.” he gruffs, not looking back as you come out and find him cutting fruit.

it’s that time of year where the couple trees in your backyard are bearing like crazy.

“did you sleep okay?” you ask him, wheedling your way into his lap making him smile.

“mhm, got up cos that damn bird came back. knocking on the glass.” you yawn and tuck your face into his neck.

“why’re you cutting fruit?” he feeds you a segment of the orange he’s peeling.

“cos you like them.” there’s a big basin between his legs full of orange segments, peaches and some berries.

the way he says it, easy, thoughtful, like it’s silly that he wouldn’t be cutting fruit because you like them- makes your heart stutter.

“james,” you whisper and he hums, his heart now stuttering. he’s sure his eyes go a bit glassy.

it isn’t often you call him by his name, his given name; but when you do, he feels like himself.

like the little boy that always got sick. he feels set apart from all the violence and the war he’s lived.

“what?” he asks, desperate not to have the emotion that’s clawing at his throat rest there.

“you’re the single most thoughtful yet enigmatic man to walk this earth.” you kiss him, transferring the sweet citrus of the orange to him.

“don’t go shouting that around- the thoughtful part.” he says against your lips playfully and you laugh.

“i wouldn’t dare,” your fingers glide through his hair before reaching down into the bowl and offering his a piece of peach.

“i love you,” he says softly. voice earnest and heart full.

“i love you too james,” he kisses you again and as you pull away you say, “should i bake a cobbler?” you spot the mini mountain of peaches by his side.

“oh yeah, i’ll just have to get lemons from the tree.”

#logan howlett #loganhowlett #logan howlett x black!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x yn #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett one shot #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett blurb #logan howlett fluff #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fluff #wolverine one shot #wolverine🤭#wolverine imagine

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loving-barnes · 10 days

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LOGAN HOWLETT - BROKEN & MENDED

A/N: A new one-shot that I tried to write. It's okay, I guess. So here you go. Also, the title sucks, but... whatever.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Featuring: Avengers, Ex!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warning: angst, fluff, implied smut?

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story has sexual scenes.

Words: 3400+

Important note: I know Wolverine is like 160cm but… I forgot about tha that so, he’s a tall MF. (They kinda fucked that up in some of the movies, so whatever.) So Hugh Jackman!Wolverine

FULL MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - BROKEN & MENDED

It felt like a dagger went through her heart. Her eyes watched her boyfriend and her best friend kissing in the kitchen. They didn’t know Y/N was there. It seemed that they didn’t care someone would be able to see them. She watched it all with her two eyes. The two people she trusted the most in the entire world broke her heart. How long was this happening? Why was this happening?

The vomit threatened to escape her throat. She was sick to her stomach from the betrayal. Shaking her head, Y/N silently walked away from the scene, heading back to the room she shared with Bucky.

When her eyes landed on the messy bed, she shared with him daily, her stomach flipped. She felt nauseous like never before. How often did he bring Natasha to bed while she was away on a mission? Her feet dragged her to the bathroom, where she ended up vomiting into the toilet.

Y/N stayed on the bathroom floor for another hour, thinking about her next steps. There was no point in crying over spilt milk. Bucky had decided to find peace in other girl’s arms. He had decided to break Y/N’s heart.

Sighing, she slowly got up, washed her face and rinsed her mouth. And then it hit her. How many people knew about this affair? Of course, Steve knew. He had to. He was Bucky’s best friend. Hell, even Sam had to know something.

She fished out a phone from her jeans and texted Tony. He, of all people, would be able to understand her. Once he agreed to see her, she washed her mouth one more time and left for the lab. As expected, Tony was tinkering on one of his suits. There was a big cup of cold coffee on the table that he didn’t drink.

“What’s up, Y/L/N,” Tony asked when he noticed Y/N in the lab. He immediately noticed her body language. Something was off. “What’s going on?”

She sat in an office chair, eyes scanning all the tools scattered around the place. “I need you to do something for me - no questions asked.”

His eyes captured hers, frowning. “Oh no, you can’t pull that card on me. What’s going on? What happened?”

No wonder Y/N wanted a ‘no questions asked’. A few months ago, Tony called Y/N to get him from a club. He was drunk, covered in vomit and upset about something. Y/N didn’t question it. She drove him to the tower, got him to bed, and they never spoke about it again.

Y/N took a deep breath, her lips quivering. She wanted to scream, cry and throw a tantrum like a child. Her heart was breaking some more. “I’m resigning.”

“What?!” Tony jumped on his feet. That statement woke him up. “What do you mean, Y/N? Does Barnes know about that? Are you two planning something? Are you pregnant?”

She shook her head. Damn, that last question got her even more. When did she start to feel the want to have kids with him? “He doesn’t know anything. I need you to accept my resignation and let me silently leave as soon as possible,” she said. “Please.”

Tony wasn’t a fool. He could see the pain in her eyes, how her lips trembled and how she tried to hold it together. Tony was able to put two and two together. Something happened between them - it was over. “Shit,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

“Please, Tony,” she raised a hand into the air. “I have to do this. If he can’t come clean, I can leave without a word. Two can play this game.”

“But,” he closed the distance and put his hands on the woman’s shoulders. “You can’t leave the Avengers. You are like the little sister I never had. I can kick Barnes’s ass again if you’d like. Say the word and I will detach that damn arm from him.”

Y/N chuckled. It was hard to hold it together and not cry in front of Tony. “We can stay in touch, Stark. Please, don’t make me stay. My heart is broken, shattered into a million pieces. I won’t be able to look them in the eyes-”

“Them?” he interrupted her. “Who’s the woman?”

A tear finally escaped Y/N’s eye. “Natasha,” she whispered.

Tony’s fists clenched. He wanted to curse out loud and throw something into a wall. “I’m sorry,” was all he said to her. “I’m sorry things went to shit like this. Holy fuck, Natasha and Barnes? What the fuck?”

As the dam broke, Tony caught her in his tight embrace and let Y/N cry it out. He wouldn’t do it for anyone but her. As Tony said, Y/N was like his little sister whom he needed to protect. He pushed her away a little to look into her eyes. The pain in them was breaking Tony’s heart.

“Is there anything you need to take?” he asked. “Any photos or personal belongings?”

Y/N thought about it. All the photos she had were with Bucky, Natasha or the team. She didn’t have any family outside the Avengers. Everything she owned had been provided for her.

“No,” she said.

Tony sighed, nodding. “Alright.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and took out a wallet. He gave her a black card. “Take it.”

“What? Tony, no, I can’t,” she shook her head.

“Shut up, Y/N,” he frowned at her. “Take the damn card. I have twenty more. Get yourself a hotel, buy new clothes or a car - whatever the fuck you want. Text me from a new number once you settled down. I want to stay in contact with you even when you are on the other side of the world.”

“Oh, Tony.”

“I’ll let you know how the pandemonium went once they realise you are gone,” he chuckled at that thought. “Are you sure about this, Y/N?” he had to ask.

“I don’t owe Bucky anything - not even a stupid explanation. He decided to cheat behind my back with my best friend. God knows how long this has been going on for. I wouldn’t be surprised if Steve and Sam knew about this. I don’t trust any of them anymore, Tony. I was hurt many times before. This is a new level of pain I’ve never felt before. I thought he was it, you know? And look how it ended.”

“I want to say I understand. However, I don’t,” said Tony. “I’ll miss you, kid.”

. . .

Bucky had a phone pressed to his ear. He was walking around the lounge room like a lion in a cage. He cursed under his nose and redialed Y/N’s number. Steve, Sam and Tony walked into the lounge room, chatting. “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Bucky asked them. “I can’t get hold of her.”

“Have you checked your room?” Sam asked and sat on the couch. He put his feet up on the coffee table. “Or she’s with Natasha.”

“I’ve asked Nat. She hasn’t seen her the whole day,” said Bucky, frowning. He tried to call her again. “She’s not responding to texts. Where the hell is she? Did she go on a solo mission?”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Steve shrugged.

Tony crossed arms over his chest. “She left,” he announced.

All eyes turned to him. “What?” Steve asked. “What do you mean by that? Did Fury give her a solo mission?”

“She left,” Tony repeated sternly. Bucky approached the man, confused. “Barnes, come on, let’s not play this game. You think the woman wouldn’t notice?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Stark?” Bucky spat. “Fuck, Stark, talk. Where the hell is Y/N?”

“Y/N found out about you and Natasha.” Tony’s fists clenched. He wanted to punch Barnes into his face. “How the fuck could you do that to her, Barnes? You didn’t have the balls to tell her the truth, to talk to her. And now, because you betrayed her, she left the tower - the team.”

Steve turned to Bucky, shocked by that revelation. “You and Natasha?” he gasped. “When?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know, Rogers,” Tony scoffed.

“Shit,” Sam commented. “What the fuck, dude?”

Bucky didn’t know what to say first. “When she’ll be back?”

Tony had to laugh. “You think she’s coming back? Come on, Barnes. You broke her heart. You cheated on her with her best friend. She’s never coming back. She left because of you. Also,” he turned to the Captain and the Falcon. “She thinks you two know about the affair.”

Sam jumped up on his feet, visibly pissed. “Whoa,” he glared at Barnes. “I don’t know anything about Barnes fucking Romanoff. What the fuck, Bucky? How could you do that to the best woman you could have ever had?”

“Sam, it’s not that simple-”

“The fuck it is,” Sam yelled at him. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said. “I’m so angry at you.”

“Sam. I… It’s…”

“Go fuck yourself, Barnes,” he punched Bucky into his shoulder and left the lounge room.

Bucky sighed, defeated. When he looked up at Steve, he could see the disappointment in his eyes.

Tony had to chuckle. “This is what happens when you think with your dick and not with your head and heart. This is your own doing.”

. . .

A FEW YEARS LATER

It was a big day. Tony Stark threw a massive engagement party for him and Pepper. He finally had the guts to ask the woman of his dreams to marry her.

He invited over a hundred people. He wanted to celebrate his beautiful fianceé, their love and happiness. Or in other words, another reason why to throw a party. Also, this was the perfect opportunity to see Y/N again.

It was almost two years since she left the team. No one knew anything about her except Tony and Pepper. They kept in touch with her the whole time. The couple knew about her new life, new role and more importantly new love. And now, they invited her to celebrate their engagement. Her new man was also invited.

It was supposed to be a big dinner with music and drinks. Everyone was there - the whole Avengers team, some SHIELD agents and even politicians who had a good relationship with the happy couple. And yet, Tony waited for his favourite person to arrive.

He was standing by the bar, nursing a drink. Tony’s eyes wandered around the place, trying to glimpse Y/N in the crowd. The dinner was about to start, and she still wasn’t there. A hand appeared on his shoulder, striking it lovingly. “Don’t worry. She’ll be here soon,” Pepper said to his ear. “She promised to come.”

He was ready to comment on it when his eyes noticed Y/N walk through the entrance, all dressed up and with a smile plastered over her face. A tall, muscular man stood behind her, helping her with her coat. Tony smiled, glad that Y/N had arrived with her new boyfriend. Tony liked that guy a lot. Same humour, both liked the taste of whisky and they dated amazing women.

“See, she’s here,” said Pepper with a smile. She raised a hand, waving to the couple.

“Are you sure about this?” Y/N heard her boyfriend’s voice close to her ear. “You don’t have to do anythin’ that makes you uncomfortable, baby.”

She turned to him, fixing his black suit. The way Logan was staring at her made her knees weak. His eyes were hungry, she was sure of it. When he saw the dress on her, he had to hold himself back. “I know, Lo’. I’m happy you’ve decided to come with me and be my plus one. Tony likes you a lot, to be honest,” she giggled. “Also, I’m done with my past and am focused on my present, with you.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Come on, Y/N. Your friends are waiting. Nervous?”

“A little bit,” she had to admit.

Logan held her hand proudly. He tried to intimidate people with his glare. Y/N was surprised when she found him dressed in a fancy suit. Yes, it was all black - like he wanted. But damn, he looked sexy.

Together, they walked to Tony and Pepper, greeting them. Y/N hugged them both, while Logan shook hands with Tony and nodded towards Pepper.

“Congratulations, you two,” Y/N said with a smile. “You are finally doing it. I’m so proud of you, Tony. You are growing up,” she teased him.

“How are you holding up?” Pepper asked gently. ��How are the kids?” her eyes moved to Logan.

“It’s not easy to teach young mutants,” Logan replied. “They can be a handful, ya know? But they love Y/N.”

Y/N wrapped an arm around Logan’s waist, smiling. “They like all of us. All of them are grateful to have a place to live and feel safe. And, to answer your question, I’m doing good. Am I nervous? Yes. Am I happy? Also yes.”

“I can’t believe you became a teacher in a mutant school,” Tony shook his head in disbelief. “Is it cool that you two are together?” he pointed between the couple. “Isn’t there any strict policy that you cannot date an old man?” he joked.

Logan glared at him. “Hilarious, Stark.”

“Come on, Wolverine. I am just messing around. But seriously, no policy?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “No, nothing like that. Thank god.”

“Last time, it bit you in the ass,” Tony glared at Y/N.

She sighed. “I know, but why make these policies? I know in the end it can hurt the team, but… “ she shook her head, not finishing.

“Out of curiosity, what would you do if you weren’t allowed to date?” Pepper asked.

Logan and Y/N looked at each other. There was a brief silence. “I’d take her to Canada,” he said after some thinking. “We’d buy ourselves a place, somewhere in the mountains.” He could see how her eyes lit up when he mentioned living far away. “Unfortunately, we had decided to stay and teach young mutants. Who knows what will bring us the future.”

Y/N wanted to press a kiss to his lips. But she knew Logan wasn’t fond of PDA. Her mouth opened to tell him how much she loved him.

“Y/N?”

Y/N took a deep breath through her nose. Slowly, she turned to the voice, finding Steve standing behind the couple, surprised to see her. “Hi,” she said cheerfully.

“Wow, you look amazing. I’m glad to see you again,” he nodded, smiling. His eyes moved to the man beside her. Steve observed him - he was tall muscular and a bit scary. He stretched his arm. “I’m Steve Rogers,” he introduced himself.

Logan grabbed his hand, shaking it. “Logan,” he said firmly.

When their hands disconnected, both men turned their eyes on Y/N. “I see you are doing well,” Steve said to Y/N. “It’s been… what, two years?”

“Something like that,” she shrugged. Her eyes moved to Logan. “I’ll quickly go to the bathroom before dinner. I’ll be right back.” Instantly, Logan leaned in and he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Y/N couldn’t believe her boyfriend was affectionate in public. They would leave the PDA behind closed doors. It was sweet.

Y/N walked through the crowd of people, heading to the ladies' room. No one paid her any attention. She registered some celebrities and politicians. Everyone was here for Tonny and Pepper. Y/N opened the door, walked in with a gentle smile and was met with Natasha. The smile was instantly gone. The woman was staring at her reflection in the mirror, fixing her make-up when her eyes landed on Y/N.

Y/N’s eyes widened. Her breath got stuck. As much as she told herself she was ready for this, she wasn’t. “Hi,” she said neutrally and quickly locked herself inside a toilet room.

She heard the entrance door open and closed a few times. Y/N hoped Natasha left. Unfortunately, after she was done and left the toilet, Natasha was leaning against the counter, waiting.

“Hi,” Natasha greeted her, whispering. Her eyes followed Y/N’s every moment. “H-how have you been?”

Y/N sighed. She started to wash her hands. “Do we have to talk?” she asked emotionless.

“Yes, we do. I haven’t seen you in two years. I missed you,” said Natasha.

“You are kidding, right?” Y/N glared at her through the mirror. “How can you say this after what happened? How can you stand there and say those words when you had a thing with my then-boyfriend?” She turned off the water and wiped her hands with paper towels. “I promised myself I would enjoy this evening, celebrate Tony’s engagement and then leave. I guess things never turn out how we want.”

After she was done, Y/N left the bathroom. She was visibly upset. All she wanted was to hide in Logan’s arms, have a meal and leave. How could she believe she’d be able to come here? Why was she still this hurt when she had a wonderful man by her side? Did she…? No. The only thing left was the hurt. Her heart belonged to Logan now. She loved him more than she ever loved anyone.

“Y/N,” Natasha followed her out. “Please, let’s talk. You need to listen to me.”

“I don’t have to do shit, Romanoff.” Fate wasn’t kind to Y/N. When she walked outside, she was met with the one person she hoped to avoid the most. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” she cursed.

Bucky stood before her in a tux. His hair was short, face shaved and smooth. Those blue eyes were wide open as he stared at his ex-girlfriend all dressed up. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “Y/N, you are here.”

“Obviously,” she sighed. “I am Tony’s good friend,” she said. She wanted to walk away from the. Unfortunately, he gently grabbed her by her forearm, stopping her. “Let me go, Barnes.”

“Please, we need to talk. Only for a minute.”

Y/N yanked her arm out of his grip. “There is nothing to talk about. I don’t want to talk to any of you,” her eyes went from him to Natasha and back.

“Yes, there is,” he frowned. “You left without a word.”

She frowned at him. “So? You slept with my best friend behind my back. You cheated on me and didn’t have the balls to be honest with me.” Y/N fixed her dress and straightened her back. “I found you two making out in the damn kitchen. So, no, there is nothing to talk about. I came here to celebrate Tony and Pepper.”

Natasha sighed, upset about it all. Bucky shook his head. “You left, Y/N. For fuck’s sake you left without a word,” he raised his voice.

“That’s all you care about?” she asked. “Barnes, you broke my heart. Do you think I’d stay here after what happened? Do you think I’d be happy to see you two together? Wake up. Both of you.” Y/N turned to Natasha, to see her upset face.

A hand appeared on her shoulder, stroking it gently. Y/N released a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding and calmed down. She smelled Logan’s cologne he used for tonight. “You okay, baby?” he asked, eyes shooting daggers at the supersoldier and the spy.

Y/N strengthened her back. “Logan, meet James Barnes and Natasha Romanoff,” she introduced them. She didn’t need to define who they were and what they did to her. Logan already knew. “They don’t seem to understand that I don’t want to talk to them.”

Logan chuckled. “He seems like a guy who doesn’t understand a lot of things,” his eyes darkened. He was not fond of the man standing before him.

“Excuse me?” Bucky frowned.

“Oh, get a life, bub,” Logan scoffed. “The lady said she doesn’t want to talk to ya. So I suggest you leave her the fuck alone.”

With that, Logan grabbed her hand and walked with her away from the pair. He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing its top. “You okay, sweetheart?”

She nodded. “You know what? Let’s have some food, you know, do a little damage and then leave. I want to be alone with you tonight, sir. We have a hotel room that Tony provided us,” she winked at him.

“That dress needs to go as soon as possible,” Logan purred to her ear. “One hour and then we are gone, princess.”

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female reader #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #Logan Howlett fanfiction #Marvel fanfiction

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imyourbratzdoll · 5 months

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𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐈𝐭)

welcome to peaches world where you will finally know what it’s like to be that princess that always has men obsessing over her. you will be faced with your own kidnapping, and will be transported into the very game itself, goodluck. a big thank you to @ameliascreampuffs for helping me with the titles!

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate my work. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

೫˚👑❀ *ૢ🩷೫˚🍄

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

೫˚👑❀ *ૢ🩷೫˚🍄

!warning! these fics will include inter-species relations, size differences, slut shaming, age gaps, kidnapping, dubcon, cheating and dark content.

೫˚👑❀ *ૢ🩷೫˚🍄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆:

𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 ft bowser ari levinson x princess peach reader.

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𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 1:

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒋𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊’𝒔 𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒐𝒑 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 ft mario lloyd hansen, luigi tangerine, bowser ari levinson x princess peach reader.

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𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 2:

𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒅𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒕 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ft mario lloyd hansen, luigi tangerine, bowser ari levinson x princess peach reader.

೫˚👑❀ *ૢ🩷೫˚🍄

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 3:

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂 𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 “𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒇𝒕” ft mario lloyd hansen, luigi tangerine, the goombas, jumping piranha plants x princess peach reader.

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𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 4:

𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 ft mario lloyd hansen, luigi tangerine, bowser ari levinson, bowsers brother logan howlett x princess peach reader.

೫˚👑❀ *ૢ🩷೫˚🍄

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 5:

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒅 ft mario lloyd hansen, luigi tangerine, bowser ari levinson, bowsers brother logan howlett x princess peach reader.

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𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 6:

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒍 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏 ft mario lloyd hansen, luigi tangerine, bowser ari levinson x princess peach reader.

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𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 7:

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉 ft mario lloyd hansen, luigi tangerine, bowser ari levinson x princess peach reader.

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𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑:

𝒘𝒂𝒉 𝒘𝒂𝒉 𝒘𝒂𝒉 𝒘𝒂𝒉𝒉𝒉 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓… 𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒕? ft mario lloyd hansen, luigi tangerine, bowser ari levinson, bowsers brother logan howlett x princess peach reader.

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loganbcrnes · 2 years

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Gym Fever

Logan Howlett x reader x Victor Creed

Summary: you are working out at the gym, when tensions rise between you, Logan and Victor

warnings: 18+, smut, double-penetration, anal & vaginal, pussy eating, blowjobs & unprotected sex.

authors note: hello! I’m back with this oneshot, i’ve been going to the gym for the past few months and kept thinking about how hot it’d be to go to the same gym as Logan and Victor, so i just haaad to write this. Obviously set in an alternate universe or some shit, because i don’t think Logan would ever be a fitness trainer lol.

readers ethnicity and body type isn’t mentioned, want everyone to feel inclusive. Enjoy :)

How did you end up laying on a yoga mat with one man fucking your throat and the other eating you out?

With your legs draped over Logan’s shoulders and your nails digging into Victor’s thighs, you lose yourself in the mist of pleasure clouding your mind. While the big muscular man standing over you rolls his hips and fills your mouth with the sole purpose of chasing the tightness of your throat, the other, in between your legs, spreads your lips to marvel at the sight of your pink and shiny sex before giving it a kitten lick, first testing the waters, then diving in and ravishing the delicacy offered to him. The thing about the situation that has your skin heating up and your head swimming, is the fact that you could get caught by anyone, it’s the thrill and the anticipation of getting in trouble that makes you excited and keeps moisture pooling at your core.

You all know it’s against the gym’s policy for employers to fraternize with customers, you’re all fully aware of the consequences if you’re caught in the act. Logan could be fired, yours and Victor’s membership could be taken away and you could be blacklisted if you’re not careful. Next time, if there is a next time, it won't be so rushed, it’ll be more meticulously planned, choosing one of your homes instead of the workout room well past closing. Next time, you sigh to yourself, your mind already planning ahead.

Logan Howlett, your personal trainer, doesn’t waste any time in drinking the slick you are, so generously, producing for him; you taste amazing, sweet with a pinch of sour, your walls are greedy for his fingers as they pump into you and your toned legs flex around his head, threatening to lock him in place until you are completely satisfied. His goatee and stubble burning your inner thighs as he continues to lick.

He revels in the gargled moans escaping from your full mouth, in the little jerks of your hips when he touches your sweet spot and insists on rubbing it, flicking and sucking on your hard nub at the same time. Victor Creed, Logan’s brother, but also your gym bro, could make jokes about how healthy he is for you, how many benefits his cum would give you, but he refrains himself as this is not the time to joke, this is the time to watch the outline of his cock when he pushes in deep down your throat, this is the time to hold your shoulders and make sure you take all of him with your nose pressed to his testicles. It’s difficult to properly breathe, however, you try your best, to please them, to make this special workout session worth it for everybody.

Drool and spit drip down your blushed cheeks, slick and saliva trail down your sex, wetting your tense ring of muscles in their path, but none of it touches the ground; Logan flattens his tongue and collects every last drop of it, Victor scoops it up with his thumbs and uses it as lube to rub your nipples, to make them wet as if he was suckling on them. Are you on Earth? Are you on another planet? Are you flying or are you grounded? Your head is incapable of forming coherent thoughts at the moment, your body feels like it’s experiencing electric shocks every time the tip of a tongue or the pad of a finger touches it.

Everything feels like you’re watching your bent backwards body from above, as if in an extrasensory bubble ready to burst any second, now. All the built up tension reaches a breaking point when Logan pushes your legs up with his hands on the back of your thighs and dives into your pussy without even taking a breath. Victor leaves your mouth as he sees your writhing, conscious that your orgasm is about to hit you, you breathe in fresh air through desperate pants and roll onto yourself, climax making your whole body flex and fall from the hard but squishy ball.

“Victor, you should taste her, she’s amazing” Logan chuckles, licking the remnants of your release from his lips.

“Oh, I will, don’t worry” your eyes are closed as you try to regulate your breathing again, but you can hear the smirk in the man’s voice and shiver, knowing they’re not even half done with you.

It all started earlier that day, when you were doing some mobility stretches before your appointment with Logan for some new compound movements. Your consultation went pretty well, afterwards you talked a little about your lifestyle, how active you are, what your goals are and, then, he asked about your sex life, if you had anyone you could exercise with or who would cook for you to see if he had to simplify recipes even more or not.

That question should have sounded disrespectful and completely out of place, but, when you told him that, no, you did not have anyone by your side, his eyes darkened and his voice lowered for just a second. The air around you felt thicker, you couldn’t be the only one feeling some sort of tension between the two of you and that’s when Victor came in, not even knocking, not expecting anyone to be there except for his friend and brother. He felt it immediately, the sexually charged air around you, he could almost see little sparks going off around your bodies, a smirk grew onto his face and you could see his sharp teeth. He asked if everything was okay and both you and Logan whispered a weak “yes” in unison, as if practiced. Victor was a little confused but he let it slide, exiting the office with a small smirk and going back to his workout. You left soon after, power walking to the women's locker room to splash some cold water on your face and change into your gym clothes, shorts and a sports bra, ready to do the compound moves that Logan showed you earlier.

Everything went well during your training, you did some deadlifts, squats, Bulgarian split-squats and by the end of it, your legs and butt were sore and felt like jelly, you could barely walk. Victor looked at you doing sumo deadlifts, pushing your butt out, he looked at Logan looking at you from a little window dividing the activities room from the main hall with all the machines, he looked intently and he got an idea. It almost felt like a little lightbulb turned on above his head and he had to tell his brother because he knew he would have agreed in a heartbeat.

So that’s how you ended up in between the two men, it all sparked from the elder’s idea to have some fun together since you, yourself, mentioned you had no one, what bad could some fun do? Well… maybe you did a little crush on them, but you were never going to let them know that.

Right now, with Victor’s naked body sprawled over the mat-like floor, you mount his face, nestling your sensitive core over his lips as Logan comes to kneel beside you both. His fingers trace a path across your shoulder blades and down your chest to fondle your breasts gently, squeezing the soft mounds and pinching your nipples to send a shock wave up your spine. You are convinced Victor’s lips are wicked because there is no way he is this good, they can’t feel so soft at every press over your folds, his tongue can’t reach so deep inside you, his sharp teeth softly nibbling at your clit, it is just not possible! However, it is possible, the man in between your legs flattens his tongue to trail the length of your soft lips and lap at your wetness before fucking you with it.

His hands snake up to your ass and squeeze your roundness, pushing you to move, to ride him properly. It’s a gentle slap on your ass cheek that awakens you from your sensory trance and sets you free to move, to roll your hips and to grind on his lips over and over, filling the room with beautiful melodies of rhythmic “ah ah”s.

“Shit… Look at you, Darlin’” Logan marvels at the sight of your body bouncing, of your back arching when you rest your hands over Victor’s thighs.

Logan looks at you for a long minute, he observes your features, the little creases on your forehead, the way you furrow your eyebrows at a particular flick of the other man’s tongue, and it’s only when your body shakes from an impending orgasm and you flop down, curving your back, that he grips your hair in his fist and pulls you back, stealing a gasp from your throat.

“Don’t forget about me, doll” Logan mutters, low, making you open your eyes and look at his blown out ones.

Talking is not necessary in his situation, you think, actions speak louder than words, so, while you keep yourself balanced with one hand resting on Victor’s wide hairy chest, the other stretches to the side to hold Logan’s thick cock and jerk him, slowly. The man hisses as soon as his neglected length is granted some attention, he growls, low in his throat and lolls his head back, living the moment and the softness of your fingers circling his hardness.

“Just like that” he sighs when you pick up the pace a little, still able to pump him even with pleasure threatening to overwhelm your entire system.

It’s too hard to resist, to keep moving, after a while, as your body is too tired to keep going. You sit on the man’s face, almost suffocating him, however, he doesn’t relent; he keeps lapping at your folds and, once he encases your pearl in between his teeth and bites, everything inside you explodes. You flop on your side, then, next to Victor, and abandon Logan’s length for the time being. Victor pulls you close, whispering soft praises, stroking your hair, and rubbing your back, gently, to slow the tremors raking through your body and calm down the fast beating of your heart.

Your throat is parched, your legs won't stop shaking, but you want more. You haven’t had enough of them yet, you want to stroll even further into the lion’s den and feel them both inside you at the same time. Victor can tell, he can tell by your still heavy breathing and the way your body fidgets restlessly to press against them, that you need something, you’re searching for the peak of your pleasure. He, sneakily, grins at you, already planning what next to do to have you moaning for them.

His hands drift slowly to your hips, fingers gripping tightly to pull you closer to him. He feels the slight movement as you tuck your leg between his, rocking softly against his thigh and making his cock visibly twitch against his belly. The man lets you take control for once, he lets you move as slow or as fast as you want to, admiring all the little changes happening in your face from pleasure, from frustration for not getting where you want to, from desperation as your body grows hot again, as your legs grow tired.

When he feels you slowing down your rolls, Victor flexes the muscles of his thigh and gives you new sensations, new friction to use to get off and, with renovated fervor, you start a new ascent to utmost pleasure. Your moans, high in pitch when your orgasm runs towards you, alert the two men who wait just a little longer, they wait for the moment just before your release, they wait and stop you with both sets of hands on your hips and legs. Victor stills your hips while Logan, forcefully, lifts your legs and turns you around to rest on your back again, wet and aching sex denied its awaited price.

“Whyyy” you whine in protest, eyes fixated on the ceiling. You do want more, you feel insatiable, you need more to quench your thirst, why are they not giving it to you?!

“Let’s move to the main room” Logan chuckles at your antics, helping you up. Both men stand with their cocks up and present, almost calling your attention by dripping salty drops of pre-cum in front of your eyes, however, this is not the time to swallow them, Logan knows what he wants and he’s determined to get it, now.

The bench press underneath Victor’s body feels soft at the touch, the man lays on it as if he was to start exercising, however, he’s only instructed to hold you against his chest while Logan stands in front of you both and stares at the way your breasts bounce with your heavy breathing, at the way your lower lips are so puffy and dark pink looking. He’s reminded of taking you into his mouth mere minutes ago and he groans, needing to feel your body again. With your back pressed to Victor’s sweaty chest, you try lifting yourself up by holding the bar above your head so as not to rest your whole weight on the man beneath you. He stops, though, he circles your middle with his strong arms and holds you in place making you feel the presence of his length nestled in between your ass-cheeks.

“Lay down, frail, don’t worry” Victor whispers in your ear before nibbling at your lobe.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just enjoy the ride” Logan interjects as his fingers trail a path up your legs, sending shivers up your spine.

While Victor’s fingers pinch and roll your nipples in between them, Logan works on stretching your rim for the first time. Your pussy is left untouched and neglected, good for nothing except dripping wetness onto the man’s fingers. It feels a little too much, at first, but he takes it slow, he lets you get used to the foreign feeling and, then, scissors you to make sure you are ready for the other’s cock.

“Victor is big, you know that, you need to be well prepared” He smirks, crouching down and bringing out his tongue to press it to your ring of muscles and push it inside your body alongside his two digits.

It really is strange but, once the initial uneasiness is gone, you only experience pleasure and a fullness you’ll never forget. A couple more minutes and Logan leaves your, now, wet ass to draw a line up your sticky sex.

“Are ya’ ready?” he asks him, then, to which Victor nods and, lightly, lifts you up to align himself with your hole and lower you on his shaft.

“Ah… Shit... “ he moans, lost in your tightness. “She’s already clenching so much” he groans, then, trying his best not to pull you down completely. His hips move slowly, sliding deeper into you, stretching you wide for him, inch by inch. The sting of pain is overpowered by the sweet hum of pleasure washing over you and you throw your head back, wanting to feel more of him, needing to have him deep inside you. He takes his time, though, allowing you to adjust to the fullness and enjoy everything he's offering.

With a grunt and a final rock of his hips, he nestles his cock deep inside you. The feeling of him pressing against your walls makes your breath hitch and your chest heave. Logan sees the intense pleasure coursing through you and uses this chance to line himself up with your still wet core, rubbing his cock along its length to tease you for a quick moment before easily slipping inside you. The feeling is magnificent, your eyes roll back in your head and you visibly shiver. Your mind trails off into its own world, enjoying the way they’re thrusting into you and the simultaneous rush of pain and pleasure kissing a path through your veins.

You’ve never felt anything like this, your skin is on fire, burning from the inside out, as Victor holds you close with your back pressed to his chest and Logan’s finger digs into your hips. Your moans bounce off the walls, loud sounds fill up the silence of the room as both men move in search of a rhythm. Victor has his arms wrapped around your middle and his feet planted firmly to the floor to help him thrust up into you as he moans into your ears, low sounds that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “That’s it, taking my cock so well, frail” he growls into your ear.

You lift your eyes to focus on Logan standing over you, pressing your legs to your chest as he pumps into you, his head thrown back, eyes glazed over and sweat soaked hair laying on his forehead. His biceps clenching and tears of sweat running down his hairy chest, the hair now matted. Everything you’re seeing, feeling and hearing is keeping you at the edge of a precipice, waiting to dive over with the right thrust at the right angle. Logan drops his head, eyes meeting your own with a smirk that makes your blood feel close to boiling point and your skin feel you are standing too close to a pit of fire.

“It’s okay, baby, let it out. Scream for us.” Logan says as he presses a thumb against your lip, easing it from the clutches of your teeth.

He doesn’t stop there though, he shifts your body further up Victor’s chest and drapes your closed legs over his shoulder so he can lean forward and capture your lips with his. The kiss is lewd and sloppy, a tangle of tongues and spit with the soft popping of lips as they separate only to join once again, but it's when his hips press forward and his hard length presses painfully deep into you, that your dam breaks. This is the angle, this is the thrust you needed to have you free falling into an oblivion of immeasurable pleasure. They both feel it at the same time, your walls clench tighter locking them in, your entire body convulses and your head falls back against Victor's shoulder as you go pliant between them, pulling your lower lip between your teeth to ground yourself as immense pleasure courses its way through your veins like wildfire.

The moan that escapes your lips is like an aphrodisiac to both men and the way your body almost shuts down with them inside you sucking them in, squeezing them so tight it's almost painful, is like a bridge to a new world. Small bursts of white flash before your eyes as you feel yourself drifting off, floating, when the two men find their own release with low moans and grunts, both of them rocking into you at different, uncoordinated, paces.

You all lay like that for a while, catching your breaths and finding Earth once more as they caress your skin and stroke your hair, both of them whispering soft praises into your ears so your smile never leaves your lips. Logan moves first, pulling out of you slowly to get your water lying carelessly nearby. You finish it in about three large gulps before Victor pulls out of you gently, being careful not to hurt you.

You watch the glazed and awed expression on their faces as they both watch the way their cum leaks from your holes and something inside you stirs again, like an ember trying to become a flame once more. Clothes thrown around the workout room are gathered and they both help you get dressed, stopping occasionally to leave soft kisses over bruises that are left as reminders of the day’s session on your skin.

“I can’t believe we did that” you sigh as the three of you are sitting in a circle, just relaxing, taking in what happened. Victor snorts, “well maybe next time we can plan somewhere a little more comfortable, hmm?” he says, smirking. “Where I can do a lot more dirty things to ya’”. He says, coming closer to you. You lean in to give him a kiss, “sure, you’ve both got my number”

The three of you rise to get your bags, “I’ll keep that in mind” Logan says chuckling.

As you pull away from the fitness center, you make a note of two things: the first being to call them both in the morning and talk about where you go from here with your arrangement, and the second being to reach out to the gym to upgrade to a VIP membership, since the added benefits just might come in handy after-all.

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justsomerandomfanfic · 22 days

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Just A Little Bit Jealous - Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Title: Just A Little Bit Jealous

Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Charles (Mentioned), Hank, Co-workers, Scott (Mentioned), Random bar people, and Rogue (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 4,927

Warnings: Jealousy, slight violence, slight suggestiveness, nicknames, teasing, banter, flirting, bars, alcohol (beer) mentioned, unwanted flirting and physical touch (nothing major), Reader has Telekinesis (and other unspecified mutations), minimal cursing, men being jerks, blood briefly mentioned, angst, and fluff

Logan wasn't the best with emotions. Or at expressing them really. However, in certain situations, the emotions that did seem to shine through were not the most positive ones. Especially as Logan found himself standing at the entrance of the X-Mansion kitchen; raging, for a lack of better words.

His vision was green. A dark haze settled over his eyes. It was a look that only Logan could achieve. The anger in his gut was beginning to bowl over. He needed to calm down, but how?

Seeing you, looking the way you did, absolutely gorgeous in that outfit - the one that made you feel confident - it wasn’t even anything fancy, just your usual attire; something more laidback for the weekend. The way that you seemed to be oblivious to the way that Hank was looking at you. Logan understood. You looked stunning, as always.

Even though Logan knew that he shouldn't be feeling such... Well, jealousy. Hank was a long-time friend of both of yours, and you and Logan had been together for well over a year at this point. But, he couldn't help it. It was like an itch under his skin that he couldn’t reach to scratch. Logan felt protective. As he usually felt for those he truly cared about. And even though he knew that he didn't need to worry, again, he couldn't help it. Logan knew Hank, and he knew him long enough to know that he was a good guy. Hank wouldn't try and steal you from him, not that you were something to steal. Logan didn't own you, if you so wished, you could leave him. You could do whatever you wanted. You could leave and forget all about him.

Though, that just might've been Logan's insecurities talking.

At some point, while Logan was stuck in his head, his eyes still glaring holes into the side of Hank's head. Logan was not paying much attention to your conversation, but whatever it was about, Hank made you laugh. Another wave of jealousy rippled out of Logan. But, thankfully for Logan - and Hank - the conversation between you and Hank ended.

"Have a good night, Y/N," Hank spoke, grabbing his coke can from the kitchen counter.

"Goodnight, Hank." You replied, noticing Logan at the kitchen entrance, leaning against the wall; his arms crossed.

Hank turned and paused, also noticing Logan, giving the man a grin. "Good evening, Logan."

"Evening," Logan grumbled, eyeing the man as Hank awkwardly passed him and left the room; escaping down the hall.

You huffed, turning to lean against the kitchen counter, pressing the palms of your hands against the edge of it. You stared at Logan, inspecting his body language, trying to get a feel for how he was feeling, and Logan stared right back at you. You mimicked him, moving your arms to cross them over your chest, and at his eyebrow raise, you raised yours. His frown slowly slipped into a small grin at your actions, making your lips tug upwards in response. You moved towards him. "Hey..." Your voice was soft, yet full of curiosity. You looked up at him, taking him in fully once again.

Logan leaned forward slightly, his crossed arms dropping, and his hands coming to rest on your waist, "Hey..." He mimicked your greeting, making you huff again.

Raising your hands, you placed them on his own waist, your pointer fingers looping into his blue Jeans belt loops. "What's up with you?" You asked, tilting your head back a bit to look up at him. "Something on your mind?" You pressed on, pulling yourself closer to him.

"Hmm..." Logan hummed softly, gazing down at you for a moment - just admiring you, your eyes shining as bright as ever, looking up at him with such love and admiration - before lowering his face to meet yours, capturing your lips in a kiss. The kiss was slow but passionate. It sent shivers down your spine. One of your hands left his waist, cupping the back of his neck, the tips of your fingers running through the soft, brown hair at the nape of his neck. Your head was in the clouds, lost in Logan’s lips against yours. Logan felt all the anger and jealousy just wash away, leaving nothing but the love he felt for you burning inside of him. With each kiss and every touch, he felt a little bit lighter.

You slowly pulled away from the intoxicating kiss, your eyes feeling heavy and your heart full, you couldn't stop your smile from growing as your whole body felt warm. You bit your bottom lip as you watched Logan chase your lips, before gently pressing his forehead against yours.

You sighed, shutting your eyes once more, "I hope you didn't think that kissing me would get you out of answering." You lightly teased, feeling Logan's warm breath waft against your face as he let out a sigh of his own.

Logan's hands tightened around your waist, the warmth from his hands seeping through your shirt and onto your flesh. “Nothin' much on my mind, bub," Logan spoke, letting out one more sigh before letting his shoulders fall slightly, "Jus' a bit tired."

You hummed, nudging your nose gently against his before pulling your forehead from his, glancing at the kitchen clock on the wall. "It is almost seven." You turned to look back up at him, seeing that he was already looking right back down at you. "Kind of early to be tired, eh, old man?" You continued to tease, though Logan gave you a look and a small chuckle, you know that something else was swimming in that head of his; and you decided to let him just tell you whatever it was when he was ready.

Logan's grin turned into a smirk, blinking down at you tiredly, his hands on your waist tugging you back into him; your hands coming up to rest against his chest. "I put the 'grand' in 'grandpa'." He spoke.

At that, you let out a snort, and the two of you started laughing quietly. It took a few moments before you quieted down, your hand coming up to your mouth as you looked at Logan; your eyes squinted slightly, trying to contain your giggles. "Either, you've been spending way too much time with Charles, or you really are tired." You giggled out, your laughter slowly subsiding.

Logan's chest heaved lightly as he chuckled once more, "Maybe both."

As the both of you started to head up to your shared bedroom, Logan almost forgot what he was all upset over. Almost.

~~~

Logan had once again found himself watching from afar as some guy - a co-worker - talked to you. You somehow convinced Logan to be your plus one for a work party that your job was hosting. Logan didn't want to go, but with your little pout - and Puss In Boots eyes - he caved, knowing that he wouldn’t win against you. You even convinced him to dress somewhat rather nicely, in black slacks, his boots, and his red flannel rolled up past his elbows. Yes, he looked nice, but he really wanted to wear his Jeans.

Logan disliked parties. Parties were different from bars though, you didn't have to interact with others. And with most parties, there was an expectation to mingle with others. Logan, however, did not want to mingle with others. He was a loner after all.

He stood next to the table of snacks and refreshments, holding a small red solo cup of fruit punch for you; sadly for Logan, the party didn't have any alcohol. He could've really gone for a beer or two, but no. No, instead he had to stick to his own cup of fruit punch that he held in his other hand.

But he watched, watched as you spoke to that co-worker of yours. Again, similar to Hank, the man said something to make you laugh - though, Logan knew you incredibly well enough to know that it was not a genuine laugh; the man even had the gall to reach out with his free hand to hold your upper arm for a moment. And Logan did what he could to push the jealousy that he was feeling down. Walking over, he skillfully maneuvered around some other people, making his way over to you.

You nodded your head, letting out another fake laugh before you noticed Logan walking towards you in the corner of your eye. Turning your head, a real smile graced your features as you waved him over. "Logan! This is Henri."

"With an 'I'," Henri raised his cup in the air slightly with the inflection, giving Logan a grin, and offering his free hand out to the Wolverine. "Henri French."

Logan stared at him, with a hardened look, handing you your cup of punch without even looking at you. Taking Henri's offered hand, he shook it firmly - possibly enough to warn the guy to keep his fingers off of you. "Logan." He spoke simply, his voice gruff and low; letting go of Henri's hand, stuffing it into his slack's pocket. He turned his gaze back towards you, seeing your eyebrows knit together, and the confusion written across your face, your eyes searching his, though you quickly turned to look back at Henri with a smile; your hand curling around Logan's upper arm, the tips of your fingers brushing under the rolled sleeve of his flannel. At the touch of your chilled skin on his, Logan felt himself breathing out a deep sigh from his nose, you always knew how to calm him.

At Logan's nothing-but-short introduction, Henri let out a small laugh, "I know, Y/N said that was your name." He joked. "They seem to never shut up about you." Though Logan felt a sense of pride wash over him - making the corner of his lips twitch at the thought of you rambling about him to your co-workers - he also felt slightly off when Henri said that, the tone unnerved him.

You huffed, rolling your eyes before you turned to look up at Logan with a sweet smile. "Lo, honey, could you hold my drink for me, please? I spotted Anna. I'll be back in a jiffy." And with that, your punch cup was back in his hand, and he was left alone to deal with Henri all by himself.

Logan watched as you left, seeing you weave around a few people, waving to another co-worker of yours; an older woman with black hair and large glasses. Turning to look back at Henri, he noticed his gaze on you. And, in fact, Logan didn't like how Henri was looking at you. He was staring at you like he wanted you - the guy was even biting his lip, his eyes trailing up and down your body - Logan didn't like that one bit.

Letting out a small chuckle, Henri turned back to Logan, taking a sip of his punch. "You got a fine piece of ace there." Logan's brows furrowed, he wasn't exactly fond of how this conversation was going.

"Excuse me?" Logan's voice deepened - a growl almost leaving his throat - as if he was warning Henri, feeling a burning feeling bubbling up inside him, but Henri just raised an eyebrow, brushing his short, blonde curls away from his forehead.

"Can't help a guy for being a bit curious, can you?" Logan pursed his lips, and Henri took the chance to continue, "So, how did you catch them? I've worked with them for three years now, and they never took me up on anything. I mean, come on, give a guy a break. What’s a guy gotta do to get some action around here?" He chuckled, and Logan felt his hands grip the cups of punch a bit tighter, the plastic of the cups crinkling slightly as the pressure. "You've got to tell me how you won them over. Did they play hard to get with you too?"

Logan wanted to lash out, but he knew how important this was for you, and he didn’t want to cause a scene in front of you and all of your co-workers… But, Logan was pretty close to punching this guy’s teeth in. "I don't have to tell ya nothin'," Logan finally growled, making Henri raise his hands in defense as he chuckled lightly.

"Okay! Relax, buddy! Don't have to be so hostile, man, I'm just curious how good they are in-" Suddenly, Henri paused mid sentence, his own hand holding his cup of punch moving up in a swift motion. In confusion - and bewilderment - Logan watched as Henri moved the cup above his head, his body seemingly moving involuntarily. All the while, Henri's eyes were wide, his mouth agape as he blabbered nonsense in horror and confusion, before the cup flipped upside down, drenching himself in his own punch. The couple of people around both men stopped their conversations, turning to witness Henri as he slowly brought his hand down, his mouth opening and closing; his blonde curls wet and sticking to his forehead. "I- uh," He stammered out, "I- I don't know why I did that." He spoke out, sounding incredibly embarrassed.

Turning his head to look over in your direction, seeing you already looking over at him, a small, mischievous grin and a knowing look in your eyes. He matched your grin, knowing full well that this was your doing.

~~~

When Logan said that he was going to go out on his bike, he wasn't expecting you to ask to come along. He was just going to a bar that was a couple of miles away, but the more the merrier; and Logan was actually meaning to show you the bar - that surprisingly didn't sell crap beer, at some point. When the world let the both of you, you and Logan would just ride around, sometimes for hours, just enjoying each other's company; the wind blowing through your hair, and the scenic views.

So, you and Logan drove off on his - Scott's - motorcycle, heading off to that bar that he told you all about. You weren’t all for bars, finding them a bit too loud and the lights a bit too dim. But, you had been curious ever since the many times Logan spoke about it when he got back to the Mansion. And even though Logan couldn't get drunk, you convinced him to let you drive the both of you home. Which was always fun for you. So, this was technically a win-win for both of you. Logan got to go to his bar, you got to drive home, and you both got to spend some quality time together.

When you pulled up to the bar, you slipped off of the bike, looking at the bar with your hands on your hips as Logan kicked the kickstand and slid off the bike. Looking around the exterior of the place, you noted how loud it seemed, even from the outside. You were in for a headache in the morning, and it wasn't going to be from the alcohol.

"Ya good, bub?" Logan asked, his hand pressing the small of your back, his words breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I am," You nodded your head, glancing up at him, "I will admit, I am slightly nervous."

Logan nodded, turning his head to look at the bar, "I get it, but don't worry. I ain't gonna leave your side." Pulling you into his side, he gave you his signature grin, "Plus, they got the best fries."

"I like fries." You grinned right back up at him, "Lead the way."

"Sure thin', darlin'."

As Logan pushed the door open for you, you were immediately greeted by the smell of beer, sweat, and smoke; and the loud music that you heard outside, blasting overhead.

Logan’s hand was protectively placed on your lower back as he led you to the bar at the far end of the room. As you both walked, you took the time to look around and spied a couple of men playing pool to the right, and a handful of tables filled with all sorts of people to your left; drinking, smoking, and talking. At the far end of the bar, you found several men sitting on the bar's stools, watching the TV in the corner of the room; a football game was on. You were thankful that the bar wasn't full of just men, having spotted a couple of women here and there; with their partners, friends, etcetera.

Finding a couple of empty stools at the bar, you and Logan took your seats, the bartender sliding over from behind the bar; cleaning a glass with a cloth. He was a burly man, with a well-trimmed beard and mustache - and a bunch of tattoos littering his arms. He gave Logan a nod, glancing at you before speaking.

"What can I get you two?" He asked, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the music. His voice was deeper than what you had thought it was going to be, as he sat the glass and cloth down.

"Beer," Logan answered, and the bartender nodded, then turned to you.

You waved a dismissive hand, letting out an awkward chuckle, "I'll just take some fries. Thanks!"

"Yeah," Logan spoke up, "Thanks, Charlie." And this Charlie nodded once more, leaving to get Logan's beer and your fries.

Turning in his seat, Logan leaned his arm against the bar - close enough for you to be able to hear him over everything - giving you a grin, amusement in his eyes, "Well, wha' d'ya think?"

"What do I think?" You asked, resting your own elbow against the bartop, leaning your cheek against your hand, "It’s not too bad. Honestly, it's a bit loud."

Logan chuckled, "All bars are loud, bub."

You huffed, playfully rolling your eyes, "Well, it's certainly not the worst."

For the next thirty minutes or so, you and Logan talked, about everything and anything as you ate your fries and Logan drank his second beer. It was very enjoyable, really. You were honestly impressed by the bar, its fries were amazing; crisp outside that was sprinkled with cinnamon and paprika; it was interesting, but you liked it. When Charlie came out of the kitchen with a plate full of stacked fries. The sight of all that food made you salivate slightly, your stomach growling in hunger.

As Logan finished off his tall glass of beer, he gained your attention, "I gotta piss, I'll be righ' back."

You felt a slight rush of nervousness but nodded anyway. With a gentle squeeze of your thigh, Logan slid off of the bar stool and over to the far left corner where you supposed the bathroom was located. Turning back to the bar, you picked up a fry from your plate, twisting it between your fingers before plopping it in your mouth. Chewing, you glanced at the many drinks lining a shelf behind the bar. You were quickly growing bored, and you soon found yourself reading the labels of the alcoholic bottles; well, the ones that you could make out.

"What's someone like you doing in a beat-up place like this?" You heard a voice from beside you, where Logan used to be. Huffing, you mentally rolled your eyes. Ignoring the voice, you continued to stare straight ahead, and continued to eat your fries; maybe the guy would just go away, if you were lucky. "Come on, sweet thing, give me your name?" The guy spoke again, this time, much closer to you.

"Not interested." You answered plainly, becoming irritated.

"Awe, don't be like that!" The guy exclaimed, taking the stool that Logan had occupied. "I just want to get to know you, sweet cheeks."

You didn't even glance at him as you answered with the same tone, "I got a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend?" The man asked, scoffing, seemingly thinking that your answer was ridiculous. "If I was your boyfriend, I'd never leave you all alone in some bar." He tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing, "I don't think I could keep my eyes off you - much less my hands."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. How typical. "Look, if you're done being creepy, I’d like you to leave me be - I'd like to eat my fries in peace while I wait for my boyfriend." You were this close to just using part of your mutation to physically make him leave you alone, but you didn’t want to bring much attention to yourself. “And, honestly, I’m doing you a favor. You won’t like whatever happens when he gets back.”

"Hmph," The man hummed, narrowing his eyes playfully - he liked a challenge - "Then why don’t you and I leave now before he gets back?" You then felt pressure on your thigh, making you snap your gaze from in front of you, to your thigh, and finally to the man. "I can show you a good time."

And before you could do anything, you heard his voice, "Hands. Off. Of. Them." And thankfully, at Logan's growl, the man took his hand from off of your thigh; as if you had burned him.

Letting out a deep breath of relief, you looked up at Logan - who stood tall beside you, his dark eyes almost glowing with anger - his face showing pure fury, and his fists balled at his sides; his claws just threatening to escape his knuckles.

"I was just fooling around, dude," The guy brought up the courage to speak, reaching out to steal a fry from off of your plate, "Just having some fun." But as he began to pull the fry from your plate, a metal claw suddenly stabbed the fry down, pinning it to the table with a loud ‘thud.’ The man froze, staring at the three claws as they pierced the wooden bartop. He gulped, obvious by his Adam's apple bobbing as he dropped the fry, his fingers only centimeters from the sharp claws.

You chuckled, narrowing your eyes as you smirked, “I told you.” You taunted as the man slowly looked up at Logan, who continued to glare daggers at him; the man's eyes widened before he quickly stumbled off of the bar stool and ran away. Logan watched him go, slowly retracting his claws back into his knuckles, his blood staining them before they quickly healed. You huffed as Logan continued to watch until the man was out the bar door; your hand coming up to grab his arm. "Lo," You spoke up, gaining his attention, his head turning. You gave him a soft grin, gesturing to the bar stool, "Sit, hon." And he did, taking his seat, you could tell that he was still seething, though, less so than moments before. Taking his hand in yours, you curled his hand back into a fist, shutting your eyes as you pressed a couple of light kisses to his bloody knuckles. Pressing a last kiss to his knuckles, you sighed, opening your eyes; your eyes meeting his brown ones. "Thank you," You whispered quietly. He let out a long sigh, nodding as he looked away, but you reached out with your free hand, cupping his chin, and turning his head to face you. "Want to go home?"

He stared at you, a frown still on his face as he nodded. And so, you and Logan left the bar - leaving a couple of dollars for the drinks and fries - and then some for the slightly damaged bartop. Hopping onto the bike, you held onto the handles, feeling Logan's hands slip around your waist - protectively, his face digging into the side of your neck as you started the bike up.

Driving down the road, you felt yourself smile as Logan's lips pressed gently against your skin, feeling his beard scratch lightly across your throat as he kissed your skin; instant goosebumps. The chill breeze was welcoming as the bike sped along the slightly bumpy roads, and you were excited to get home and sleep. And you could tell that Logan was tired too; mentally and emotionally. It wasn't until the bike pulled into the X-Mansion garage that you and Logan could finally let out a sigh.

"Home sweet home," You said, the both of you slipping off of the bike. "I'm exhausted."

Logan only grumbled as the both of you headed into the Mansion.

You hummed tiredly, looking down at the watch on your wrist, "It's almost seven." You took Logan's hand, interlacing your fingers with his as you walked down the Mansion halls, "Kind of early to be tired, eh, old man?"

You asked the same question from more than a week ago, your smile widened as you saw Logan's tired frown turn into a slight smile, "Yeah, yeah," Logan grumbled, amused, "Let's jus' get ta bed."

You nodded, chuckling, "You don't have to tell me twice."

~~~

Finally, some peace, and quiet; alone with you. With your head on his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around you, Logan finally felt content. Content with just spending a quiet night in with you. No missions, no work parties, no bars - though Logan did have a beer on the coffee table - or waiting for you to get done with teaching. Just the both of you, watching a movie. And it was some fantasy movie that you got the VHS tape for. It was interesting, enough to keep Logan somewhat entertained, but not a lot. He kept finding himself looking at you for most of the movie.

In fact, he was doing just that. The TV illuminated your face, perfectly highlighting your features. He found himself unable to focus on the movie at hand - he was too focused on you. His eyes followed your every movement - watching every little detail as you shifted. You wore a slight smile on your lips; your hand laying softly on his thigh, rubbing soothing circles onto the material of his jeans. Logan found himself smiling as he watched your actions. His own fingers absentmindedly played with the soft strands of your hair, occasionally scratching your scalp. His chest felt warm - fuzzy.

But, then Logan noticed something. The expression on your face changed... Changed into one that you only gave him. Logan's eyebrows furrowed, watching as you let out a soft sigh, your eyes glued to the screen. Turning his head, he spotted the reason for your dreamy sigh and love-sick eyes. The man on the screen, dressed in the attire that was appropriate for the type of movie he was in, was dancing gracefully around a crowded ballroom of masked masqueraders. The man was beautiful, Logan had to admit. Beautiful, graceful, and ethereal.

And you seemed to have thought so too, as you let out another dreamy sigh.

Turning to look back at you, you glanced up at him, at the screen, and back at him. "What?" You asked, smiling lightly, noticing the odd look on his face.

"You're sighin,'" Logan spoke simply, making you frown slightly and raise an eyebrow.

"I'm sighing?" You asked, blindly grabbing the TV remote and pausing the movie.

Logan tilted his head slightly, raising his own eyebrow as his chocolate eyes stared into yours, "You did the same sigh when you first met me." He recalled, making you huff out a little laugh, incredulously.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, turning your body slightly towards him.

"Rogue said that ya sighed, just like that, when ya firs' met me." Logan pointed out, teasing lightly - his chest feeling warm in the process. "She said ya were starstruck."

You snorted, "Of course I was starstruck, I mean, look at you! You're gorgeous! You're tall, dark, and handsome!" You explained, pausing for a moment. "And you do have a nice butt." You added, as if it was common knowledge at this point, and it was - you praised his behind often.

Your flattery made Logan grin mischievously, "That's all ya like me fo’? My looks?" He joked, making you lightly slap his thigh in response.

"Lo, of course not, you know that!" You spoke before becoming a bit serious as you made eye contact - Logan gulped lightly - "When I first met you, aside from your dashingly good looks, Logan, I fell for your character.” You glanced away briefly, the memories filling your mind, “You’re funny, fiercely loyal, passionate, intelligent, and a very strong-willed man." You found yourself rambling, "There's a whole lot more I could say, but it would take hours." You breathed out a small chuckle, running a hand through your hair.

Logan couldn't fight the blush that crept up his cheeks, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips as you spoke; his eyes softening. "I could say the same 'bout you." He spoke honestly - fondly - his voice low and husky; almost speechless.

You hummed, leaning up with the hand on his thigh to press a quick peck to his cheek before turning back to the movie with one last tap to his leg. “I know these past months have been crazy. Work parties and loud bars… But, you don't have to worry. My fictional crush doesn't hold a candle to you."

"Fictional crush?" He muttered, glancing at the TV screen as you unpaused your movie.

A smirk played on your lips as you turned your attention back on the TV, "I can smell the jealousy rolling off of you, hon,"

"Jealousy? I ain't jealous, bub." Logan shook his head, his arm returning to wrap around you. "Just… Surprised is all."

"Suit yourself."

---

Main Masterlist | X-Men Masterlist

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shrenvents · 4 days

Text

Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!)

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.6k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. Bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing, than wearing something ‘plain.’ Unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day, I was so close to the finish line, before my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret, and outed it to the entire student body.

That I’m a mutant…

That was what led me across the coast, for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I heard the stories of mutants being hunted and gone missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough, that I wouldn’t at least make it to my 20th birthday.

However, my days of swindling folks of cash and food came to a halt, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so I grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into a crowd.

Just as I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a colossal, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn-in, leather jacket.

Logan Howlett, or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor... After he and Scott captured me, they dragged me by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I cringed when they said where we were headed, but once I arrived and saw all the kids, like me, going about their lives, free, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at my tardiness... Just my luck. The one day that week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to tie my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and shutting my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11 am, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm. “Class?”

“The only class you have left today kid, is at 2. You’ve managed to miss the rest already,” she scolds flatly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare. She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten out, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class, where he’s most likely dozed off.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. I giggle and then go towards him.

Mr. Howlett?” I say, clearing my throat loudly, he grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I say even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, but he’s still sleeping. I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and my change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, voice echoing through the classroom. I refused to move away from my position, wanting to seem unaffected by him, but I was anything but. With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart races wildly. He clears his throat, and rolls his eyes away after taking in my attire, as he usually does —gives me a once-over, and rolls his eyes back to his focus on his lecture.

“You missed class, that isn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t because you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen. He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every time he does, I can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs, that makes me rise to defend myself. “No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him. “And you’re just gonna admit to that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort, with a growing smile, beaming across my face. Though, his complimentary smile, drops as mine comes to full form. He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me.

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion. “Um, I’m sorry?” I compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously. My brows furrow.

“Okay, I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to.

He lifts from his chair, standing up. I gasp as he towers over me. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk, staying stoic. “What?” I yelp and his smirk breaks through. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What’s not funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze in disbelief. Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me, you damn highlighter,” he asserts. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re a damn adult.” His scratchy voice loses its humour, and I stay frozen to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan orders as he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond angrily, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to the floor, and straddling his hips. I cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together, moulding them into one. He grunts in surprise as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would want him this way.

He half-heartedly pulls away between kisses, whispering my name in small protests, but he gets muffled by my lips and grinds on his lap. Quickly, his objections turn into fierce groans. He takes my hips into his hands, tightly gripping into my flesh as he pushes me back, onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays glued to my core, even as we move. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it in a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating me, and I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how desperate he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock. “I'm a sucker for extra attention teach,” I mention, as sensually as I could muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his dick doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me. “You like attention sweets?” Logan questions softly. His tone makes me shiver and whimper, yet again. “I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me he doesn’t actually want any opposition. “Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave as he swears, rolling his hips into me once. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he laughs by my ear as he dips down. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object meekly. I feel him smile as he leans away from my ear, and I turn my head over my shoulder to watch him peer down at where our bodies meet. “You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not there to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken here so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can vividly imagine me deep inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back.

“But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I grimace.

“Because, if we did, I’d be hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that isn’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he pecks my naked spine, just below my bra clip. “Even your lingerie is pink huh?” He laughs smoothly. “Imagined it would be.” My legs rub together instinctively at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs pleasantly.

After a long beat of silence and a little grinding, I speak up. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, after giving my ass cheek a mild slap. I yelp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late,” he comments airily. I nod and scurry out the room, with a grin plastered on my face.

...

After a long, vigorous rest of the day. I collapse into my plushy bed with a sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings, with a hint of familiar sass. I jolt up to see Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt is only more strained as his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims, with a mocking tone, repeating my "childish" words from earlier. My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin.

So, in an attempt to remedy my reputation, sitting up on my bed, with my arms bracing my figure, I slowly spread my bent legs. I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” I roll my tongue as his name teasingly leaves my mouth. His head twitches in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit. “Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh. I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I push my hands into his hair, running my fingers through his thick locks. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, again, coating his tone.

Just as I begin undoing his belt, he flips me over on my stomach like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips, to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above. “I better see a pink thong,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction as I’m left in just my underwear for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, briskly going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder. I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face of yours," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I guffaw, "You truly have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're really asking for it princess."

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