#dofp wolverine

[dorkszn]

“you’re supposed to put this on everyday, lo, not just when you remember it’s there.”

you scold him as you do nearly everyday. you sit on logan’s torso, gently massaging the conditioner into his facial hair.

“i don’t have time to do this everyday.” logan retorts in a mumble, looking up at you as your focus remains on combing the product through logan’s dark tufts. his large hands encapsulating your thighs.

“if i have time to do this and more everyday then—“

“plus, i rather have you do it for me. even if it comes with you scolding me like you’re my wife or somethin’.”

you pause for a moment when he says that. finally looking into his eyes. “that’s only because you like me sitting here,” you reply. a small smile grows on his lips when he says that.

“i never denied that,” logan responds, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze. he then reaches up and tugs on the spa headband on his head causing the fluffy cat ears on it to shift. “so when can i take this off?”

“when i’m done,” you tell him once again, swating his hand away from it. his palm taking its seat back on your thigh. “it’s keeping things separated.”

“what, you gonna die my grey hairs away too?” he asks, referring to the white streak in his hair.

“mhm, nah, i like those,” you answer with a smile.

“yeah, you better.” he mutters as you return to combing your fingers through his beard.

[lovecandyxx]

No because there is something about him in this specific angle that is making me THROB.

[dilf-docs]

X Si Volvemos

ex older bf!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: there are many things you and logan disagree in but not when it comes to things in bed.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (phew), smut, ex!logan, exes to ????, p in v, creampie, reader's in her early to middle twenties so her frontal lobe hasn't developed yet; don't expect any reasonable thinking on her side, logan is on his middle to late 40s, angst (duh), this happens in an AU where mutants don't exist bc i don't wanna complicate myself with timelines lol hence time isn't really important but it's contemporary, the vibes i bring to the function are more sad than horny and i'm sorry, toxic too! may build a series around it?

word count: 1,925 words

side note: the incredible @bpmiranda's got me with a very bad case of ex!logan fever :( plus after listening to karol G's album mañana será bonito and seeing i may or may not be obssesed with romeo santos, i got the song in the title on loop: as you can see, it's all very fitting ++ don't forget to check out her stories, they're so good istg!!!!

You shouldn't call.

"Logan" you speak. His name burns in the tip of your tongue, like a secret you're not supposed to tell.

He shouldn't answer.

It's quiet at first on the other line, until a rough voice says I'm here, appearing to be distant, but who is he trying to fool? As soon as he saw the number pop on the screen, his fingers moved with a learned urgency.

You shouldn't keep calling.

"I need you" three words to cover those you actually mean; hanging in the spaces between the silence.

I miss you. I love you.

Your hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

He shouldn't keep answering.

"Princess..." Logan pleads, "don't do this"

You know better than that, he wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut. Just to hear your voice, just to-

"Please, Lo" you whine out. Logan grabs his jeans with force, the fabric strained under his white-knuckled grip. It takes him a lot not to run to you right there and now.

"Don't" but his voice cracks as much as his resistance.

"I've got the house" you whisper the prayer; a routine so sacred none of you seem to break it, "just for us"

"Y/n" even saying your name is painful; like the most addicting and damaging drug to ever exist, "stop"

Logan loved your stubborn heart, but there are times where he wishes you weren't like this.

"I'm sorry" and then he hangs up.

I'm sorry for not being who you needed. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I keep on coming back after I said I would leave you alone. I'm sorry I can't keep my promises.

You feel it around your neck―bruises in the vocals your voice has failed to scream; it chokes you with rage.

"Are you stupid?" you ask yourself in the mirror.

What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you love him more than you love you?

You dial again, but this time, it's a girl who picks up.

"Yeah?"

"Hi. Wanna go out?"

Logan feels so out of place, but this used to be your favorite bar, and he's desperate for a drink.

Listening to your voice has always made him weak, but after you broke up, it drives him crazy.

He empties another glass, feeling pathetic. This is how bad it's gotten: you've got him scouring the places you used to go, chasing your ghost, trying to get a glimpse of your silhouette or a whiff of the phantom of your scent, the lavender haunting him; getting under his skin.

A song beggins playing, and it's the same vinyl set from two years ago. The night he met you: a pretty young thing so out of place in an old bar like that, playing hard to get, only to end the night moaning over him, fogging his car's windows, saying his name in a way no one else had before. He still remembers the way your legs trembled but he held you, beads of sweat confusing themselves with the glitter on your skin. Logan doesn't know what that is, but he's marveled, so in awe of you, everything of you: young, new, exciting.

But every new thing wears out, and the gap he swore wouldn't matter came crashing in years that built a distance between him and you.

So he did what he did best: ruin it. Deny the feelings bubbling inside; let them consume his reasoning, pushing you like he had done with everyone who cared about him before.

When he broke your heart, he took a part with him. So you keep coming back, looking for it; trying to piece yourself together. And he let's you: because God knows you have a part of himself too.

He's so drunk he probably imagines the hint of lavender in the whiskey tinted air. He's so desperate to see you again, he's seeing your face among the crowd. He's definitely gone insane: hearing that laugh he misses every day.

"Y/n..."

The music pauses: all you can hear is your name being said in that way like it belongs to him.

"...Logan"

He walks in autopilot over to the table you and a group of girls are sitting. They're all beautiful―beautiful people attract beautiful people, but he's only got eyes for you.

"What are you doing here?"

He raises a glass he didn't know he was carrying, "having a drink".

Your lips purse, and Logan doesn't know if it's because you're laughing at him or sad.

"I see" but you divert your gaze, looking at your outfit's neck. The outfit you chose: a black dress that pushes your tits on top. They are on display, and Logan feels played by you―his eyes trained on the strained fabric, tongue watering like it did when he would lick your sensitive nipples.

"I see too" he says in automatic, and one of your friends laughs. He looks away, thanking the low lights, or you'd see the red embarrassment on his face.

You stand up and walk over to him, and your friends sense it's time to leave the two of you alone.

"Why did you hang up?" you throw the question so casually; the nerve you have.

"What do you mean?" it's the only thing that comes to his mind. Very stupid, indeed.

You scoff, "delete my number, then"

"You keep on calling" he bites back.

"And you keep answering"

You never shut up. He hates that.

"I may have to stop"

You get closer, way too closer. So much, your hot breathe clouds his judgment.

"Try to" you dare.

And he tries, he really tries. But not today.

Not today when he takes you home, finally looking complete with you in it again. You had moved out after your last discussion, saying you'll never be back.

"You haven't changed a thing" you murmur in between kisses, and he can sense a bit of melodrama in his voice that makes him roll his eyes despite the dull ache on his chest.

He picks up your body swiftly, carrying you up to the bedroom.

"Why would I?" he asks, voice so low and small you almost miss it.

"Because you hate me" you avoid his eyes, even if your faces are too close, loosing all that corageous character of yours, "said you would get rid of it; of everything that reminded you of me"

But when he drops you softly on the matress, there's still that lamp you got him in the night table.

"I couldn't" he confesses.

I couldn't, he means, because I couldn't let you go.

But you both know it won't work out, something you knew right from the start: because toxic loves only fulfill basic needs. This isn't healthy, but he forgets it all as soon as you're moaning his name. Still, he promises himself he will say goodbye to you this time, even if it's inside of you.

"Shut up and kiss me, then" you're always pushing him around, making him do the things he desires to but doesn't want to do.

So he obliges, leaning in, the lavender so strong all over your sweet skin, poisoning his mouth on every kiss he leaves. He feels you squirm under him, goosebumps along your skin, prickling against his, so visible he can see and feel it even in the dim lit room.

"Take it" Logan doesn't look at you, but when he does, you feel him stare deep into your soul, "I know you want it"

He's sliding his dick inside you as soon as the sentence is over, the permission to take you and use you implicit. He robs a drawn-out groan out of you.

"So tight for me" he murmurs against your shoulder, sharp breaths and soft groans flooding your ears. His cock hits deep within you, hard thrust no one has ever been able to replicate, making you gasp for air, burying your face in the plush pillows now drenched in your sweat.

"You're so deep" you hiss, hot and overwhelmed, waves of pleasure hitting like water against cliffside rocks. "So big, Lo" you whine, dizzy at the way your pussy stretches for him.

"Just for you" he grunts out, and it's the truth. No matter how dark the room is or how many faces he avoids, he always looks into the eyes of the other women he fucks, his heart sinking when he can no longer pretend it's you, "fuck, squeeze a bit more".

Hearing his deep voice, rough when you fuck, always making you soak, coating his dick in your juices. You grip tight, as tight as the nails that hold onto his shoulders, making him moan at the pain.

"Like that, princess. Good girl" you moan at the praise, "I know you could take me, all of me"

He grunts and pants, holding you tighter as his cock pumps faster, in sync with your now closer to happening orgasm.

Before it, he slows down his thrusts, "where do you want me to cum, princess?"

He wants to, inside of you, but he can't do so, not when he promised he wouldn't ruin your life. But making you his, marking you as only his, makes his dick inside you twitch. Fuck, he's so balls deep inside you all he can think is filling you up silly.

"Inside me, Lo" like you read his thoughts, and it always amazes and scares him; how deep inside his mind you are. Never happened, not in his four decades of life. And that's part of the problem: he's closer to death than you are but it's only with you, young―blossoming with life, that he feels truly alive.

So how can he say no, when you plead and beg with those pretty doe eyes of yours? Who could imagine such a sweet thing to be so needy. He feels like you could ask for his heart, and he'd carve a hole in his body for you―bleeding out of love; dying with a smile.

"Such a greedy little thing, princess" he mocks, but his tone betrays him―dripping in adoration, "want me to fill you up all nice?"

A broken wail is what he takes as your answer, your mind in blank.

He finds himself letting go, way faster than he should; he just misses you and your needy dripping pussy that much. You can't hold back longer either, rush flowing through your veins, much more satisfying than the alcohol you had drank an hour ago.

Logan paints your insides with layers of his hot cum, mumbling a soft:

"Anything for my princess" he keeps going, panting as he's milked entirely dry, "anything you want, my girl"

Your vision is still spotty, mind fogged: you're sure that's the reason the hurt hasn't settled in your heart yet.

Then the silence comes, like it always does now.

"Y/n" you always love when he calls you by your name, but you hate the way he's saying it now. Like a goodbye.

"Don't-" you plead, begging he shuts up. But he pulls out, and says:

"It's for the best"

You don't want what's best. You want him.

"Can't believe you wore this dress" he traces the pattern of the tight clothes, damped in sweat, "you know it's my favorite. Why?"

You fail to supress a smile, even if it's tired and almost sad, "I knew you couldn't say no".

The truth is, you know many things: like how this is never going to stop until it's destroyed you both.

cr: divider by @kodaswrld / gif @scottxlogan

[marifilue]

i loved “i gotcha darlin’”!! how about anything similar? i just love comfort with logan! maybe he accidentally hurts reader and she knows but is still shaken up? rly ip to u tho!! <3

Fractured

Wordcount: 2.2k

Pairing: DOFP Logan Howlett x GN!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Comfort, angst, established relationship, kisses n lil fluff.

Oneshot: During a mission, your comms went out and you got separated from Logan. When he finally found you, relief overwhelmed him and he might've just held you a little too tightly.

A/N: Thank you for the request dearest anon! This took longer than I expected because I overthink of best scenario for Logan in this situation. Also I get too excited since this was my first request work omg omg. Hope you'll enjoy this <33 Pls feel free to send me more request.

“You’re staring,” you said, not even bothering to look up from your book.

“Can’t help it. You look suspiciously well-behaved.” Logan shrugs from his spot across the room, arms crossed over his chest like always.

You glance up at him, eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m evolving.”

“Into what? A damn saint?”

You snort, tossing a pillow his way, which he easily dodges with a grin. “Jerk.”

He walks over, slow and smug, plucks the book from your hands like it’s nothing “You’ve been quiet.”

You lift a brow. “That bothers you?”

“Only when it’s you,” he says. “Usually means something’s stewin'.”

You huff, pretending to look away. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the peace.”

“Sure,” he says, stroking your hair. “That why you sighed seven times in the last two minutes?”

“Wow. You counted?”

“Didn’t have to. You got that specific kinda sigh when you’re tryin’ not to feel stuff.”

You glare at him, snatching your book back from his hand. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Right here’s fine.”

He sits next to you on the couch, close enough that your knees touch. And when you don’t pull away, he rest his palm comfortably on top of your thighs. He doesn’t hide the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to read something between the lines of your silence.

You try to keep it casual. “You ever think maybe I’m just boring today?”

“Not a damn chance,” he says, his voice low. “Even your quiet’s got teeth.”

You laugh, a soft, real one, and it slips something loose in your chest.

He leans in to press a kiss on your lips, slow and easy. No pressure. Just warmth and patience, the kind you never got used to having.

He rests his forehead against yours, warm breath brushing against your skin. “Whatever’s crawlin’ around in that head of yours... I’ll be here to squash it.”

The way he says it, like it’s simple. Like it’s obvious.

Because love is supposed to feel that way, safe. That’s what fictional books tell you. That’s what you eventually start to believe, that love is a sanctuary.

You press your lips together, steadying the sudden flutter in your chest. “You know I don’t need saving, right?”

Logan doesn’t move away. “Didn’t say you did. Just means I’ll be there if somethin’ tries to bite.”

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betray you with a soft smile. “That include tonight’s mission?”

He grunts. “Especially tonight’s mission.”

You lean back just enough to meet his eyes. “You still think it's a setup?”

“Somethin’s off about it,” he mutters, his fingers giving a subtle squeeze to your thigh. “Recon without backup in a town full of anti-mutant chatter? Charles sayin’ it’s low-risk when it reeks of bait?”

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s just noise.”

He gives you a look that says you know better than that.

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. I’ve got your six.”

“You always do.” His voice softens again. “But this time, don’t play hero.”

You scoff. “I’m not the reckless one.”

He raises a brow, looking entirely unconvinced.

“…Okay, fine. I’m slightly the reckless one.”

“Darlin’, you’re the reason I get grey hairs.”

You chucked softly and leaned in, pressed a kiss to his cheek playfully, but sincere.

“You’d still follow me into hell, though.”

Your fingers slipped into his hair, toying with it gently. Those little clusters of grey at his temples suited him more than they should’ve.

He smiles, low and crooked. “Yeah. And I’d drag your stubborn ass back out.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “You say that like it’s a chore.”

He leans in, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “Nah. You’re the only kind of trouble I’d sign up for twice.”

That earns a soft laugh out of you, flustered. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, quick and teasing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Mm, and you’re blushing,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.

You shove at his chest, half-laughing, half-hiding behind your hand. “Shut up.”

But he just kissed you again, slower this time. And it’s unfair, really, how easy he makes it feel. Like love doesn’t have to be complicated.

You melt a little against him, breath catching when his hand cups your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek.

“I love you,” he says it in a breath, like it’s second nature.

You freeze for a second—only a second—but it’s enough for him to catch it, to see the color shoot up your neck like it always does.

He grins, cocky and soft. “You make that face every time. Drives me nuts.”

You laugh, flustered as hell. “I love you too, Lo.”

He strokes your cheek, eyes darker now. “Say it again.”

Before you can, his mouth is on yours again—hungrier this time. No teasing, no holding back. Just him and you and the heat between every breath you take.

You’d been gone too long.

Forty-seven minutes since your comms cut out. Forty-seven minutes of silence in his ear, static in his chest, and no sign of you in the wreckage.

Logan had torn through two floors already, left a trail of bodies and ripped steel behind him. He wasn’t thinking—just moving. Fast. Focused. Dangerous. That dangerous, primal part of him clawing closer to the surface the longer he didn’t hear your voice.

“Where the fuck are you…” he muttered, storming into another corridor, scanning every inch.

You weren’t supposed to be separated this long. The building had caved in halfway through the op—explosives too early, their team scattered. Your last words were “I’m fine, I’m just gonna—” and then nothing. Just silence.

His claws ached. His jaw locked.

Then he found you, leaning onto a wall behind you, holding your side in pain, catching your breath—covered in dust and blood and breathing too rapidly.

Relief knocked the wind out of him.

“There you are,” he rasped.

You were so relieved at the sight of him after the shit show you just went through—getting ambushed by a bunch of armed forces twice your size, now dropped on the floor with their fancy tools.

“Logan!” you exclaimed his name in relief.

“Are you okay?” He paced faster toward you, and you just nodded breathless. He was on you in seconds—slightly bending his posture to reach your height then lifting your feet's off the ground, hauling you close, arms wrapping tight around your frame, clutching you like something precious that almost slipped through his fingers.

He buried his face in your hair. He was breathing too hard.

“Jesus. You scared the hell outta me.”

He didn’t notice the way your body stiffened at first, not until a soft gasp escaped you—a sharp one, cut off like you tried to swallow it.

He pulled back just slightly, putting your feet back on the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. I’m okay.”

But you weren’t. He could feel your heartbeat going haywire, feel the tension in your muscles. And when you moved, just barely, the way your breath caught—he knew.

“Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” His voice was low, torn between panic and guilt.

You tried to smile, barely.

“No, it’s just—I took a hit from something earlier. It’s not you.”

But you were shaking. He could see the way you were favoring your side, holding it like it might fall apart if you didn’t.

He realized it then. In his desperation to hold you, he'd hugged you too tight. And something shifted in your rib.

"Can I?" he asked, bringing his delicate fingers to your ribs, more careful this time. You nodded. He traced each rib carefully, one by one, until he found it—the one that made you flinch painfully. He pulled his fingers back immediately.

"Shit... one of your rib snapped. I can feel it.”" Logan muttered.

"Yeah," you rasped. "I can tell."

You blinked. It felt like your lungs were filled with wet cement, every breath grinding against something sharp inside you.

He stepped closer. "Darlin’, I’m sorry—fuck, I didn’t mean to—"

"It’s not you, Lo," you cut in automatically, even though… maybe it was. You didn’t want it to be.

Your body already ached all over, hands still trembling from the fight, but it wasn’t until he touched you, until his arms wrapped around you, offering that comfort you always craved then it shambles within second.

Maybe the rib was already fractured before he hugged you. Maybe it wasn’t. Who fucking knows. All you knew was that now, every breath came with the kind of pain that made you grit your teeth so hard, you swore they’d shatter.

"C'mon let's get outta here" Logan moved toward you again, like he wanted to fix something. You sidestepped him.

"I’m fine. I can walk." You didn’t wait for him to argue. You gripped your side and pushed forward, each step stiff, each breath shallower than the last.

He was stunned at first. You could feel him watching you. That look peeled your back without you turning.

"You’re limping," he said, quiet but firm.

"It’s nothing."

He caught up to you in two strides, his hand brushing your arm. You flinched.

And that was it.

His hand froze mid-air. His eyes locked on yours, not angry—wounded. Neither of you said anything for a beat.

"What just happened?" his voice dropped, low and rough.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You didn’t even know how to explain it. How could you? That it wasn’t the pain, not really. It was the idea of him, capable of hurting you. Even by accident. Even just once.

You shook your head, as if trying to shake it off.

"I don't know, okay? Everything just fucking hurts right now. Do me a favor and stop making it worse."

Logan stepped closer, slower this time, hands raised like he was approaching something wild and bleeding. "I apologize, please... I'm sorry" he said, quieter now.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." he managed an eye contact.

You swallowed, looking away. "I know." And you did. But the knowing didn’t undo the feeling.

He reached out again, slower this time, letting his hand settle gently at your shoulder.

"Please, Logan, just... stop it. I'm fine..." Your voice cracked slightly as your eyes started to sting. You stepped away, making his arm drop to his side again.

"Don't do this. You're in pain. I won't just stand here and watch." he said, pleading, his eyes growing with worry.

Your silence clung to the air like smoke. Heavy. Suffocating.

You hated how he looked at you—like he was trying to hold you together with his eyes alone. Like he’d failed you. And maybe, just maybe, you hated that some part of you agreed.

“I can’t fix it if you won’t let me.” he said, barely above a whisper.

“It’s not something you fix, Logan. It just... happened.”

“I happened,” he said, didn’t even sound angry nor upset. Just... tired. Regret pouring out of him like a slow bleed.

“I held you too tight. I should’ve known better.”

You turned away, not because you wanted to, but because if you looked at him for one more second, the tears would win. And you were already so damn close to crumbling.

He stood there for a long beat, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to breathe.

“I love you. That doesn’t come with promises I won’t screw up. But it does mean I’m not going anywhere.” he stepped closer, as if not allowing you to slip through his finger, ever.

“I’m scared,” you murmured watching him stepping closer but this time, you stopped stepping back. “Not of you. Just... of what that moment meant. Of how easy it was.”

“I get it, sweetheart. I forgot what I’m capable of. Forgot how easy it is for me to break things… even the ones I care about most.”

Then, slowly, your body gave in—not all at once, just enough to lean back an inch. Enough for him to understand you weren’t pushing anymore.

But this time, he didn’t pull you into his arms. He didn’t dare.

Instead, his hand came up carefully, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. His fingers trembled just slightly as they rested against your cheek, his thumb stroking softly beneath your eye, right where the tears had started to fall.

He didn’t say anything. He just watched you with that look you hated and needed all at once—like you were breakable, and he was furious with himself for proving it true.

You blinked, and a tear slid down. He caught it with his thumb.

Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, warm and lingering. Holding you so gently.

A second kiss followed at your temple, softer, and something in your chest cracked open at the tenderness of it.

He didn’t make the pain disappear—not literally, at least. Your body still ached with every passing second. But if there’s one thing he did manage, it was to make you feel safe. Loved. He made damn sure you never felt anything less.

He didn’t give up on you. He never does. Not when you messed up, not even when he messed up, like now. He let you in, let you hear what was going on inside of his heart and head. And he showed it—with his words, with his touch, with everything he had to give.

And that—that was the kind of love fiction never quite got right. Because it wasn’t grand or perfect or poetic. It was patient. Steady and real.

And it was yours.

[pandapetals]

Holiday Feast

The X-Men have a feast before everyone leaves for the holidays.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, christmas dinner, holiday vibes

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @saradika

It was a week before Christmas, and the mansion was filled with the warm, festive chaos of Xavier’s holiday feast. The kitchen was a disaster zone, with Scott and Ororo chopping, stirring, and debating spices, while Hank muttered to himself over an elaborate five-course menu. The aroma of roasting vegetables, fresh bread, and spiced cider drifted through the mansion, wrapping everyone in a cozy holiday glow.

You and Logan had retreated to the living room, sitting side by side on the couch, watching the flurry of activity with amusement. Logan’s arm was slung around your shoulders, and you nestled into his warmth, feeling content. Most of the team lingered nearby, helping out when needed—or at least trying to. Bobby had managed to drop a whole bowl of flour earlier, and Jean had confiscated Scott’s spatula after he attempted to rearrange her perfectly layered dessert.

The door burst open, and Rogue and Remy stumbled in, laughing and brushing snow off their coats. They’d clearly been in the middle of an impromptu snowball fight, and a gust of cold air followed them in, cutting through the warmth.

"Well, there goes the cozy atmosphere," you teased, snuggling even closer to Logan as you pulled the blanket over both of you. "We finally got it warm in here, and then you two show up."

"Sorry," Rogue said, grinning as she peeled off her damp scarf, while Remy just smirked, shaking snow out of his hair with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Don’t worry," Remy drawled, giving Rogue a wink. "We bring the heat everywhere we go."

Logan huffed, rolling his eyes as he tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer as if to shield you from the chill they’d brought in.

Remy caught Logan’s look and smirked even wider. "Aww, Wolverine gettin’ all cozy on the couch? Now that’s a holiday miracle."

You laughed, nudging Logan’s side. "He’s actually quite the cuddler, believe it or not."

Logan scowled, feigning irritation, though there was a warmth in his gaze that told you he didn’t mind one bit. "Careful, darlin’," he muttered, "or I’ll tell everyone who’s really the clingy one."

You shot him a playful glare, then glanced around the room as everyone finally began to settle, the smell of freshly baked rolls and herb-crusted turkey filling the air. Plates and glasses were set, and Xavier wheeled into the room with a knowing smile, motioning for everyone to gather.

"Alright, everyone," he began, "before we dig in, I think it would be fitting to have a few words." He paused, eyes twinkling as he looked pointedly at Logan. "Perhaps Logan would like to share a bit of holiday wisdom with us?"

The entire room went quiet, and Logan’s face went blank with mild horror as every pair of eyes turned to him.

"Oh no," he muttered, shooting you a look of pure betrayal. "I don’t have anything to say."

You grinned innocently, patting his arm. "Come on, Logan. Just a few words. You’re practically the heart of this place."

Remy snickered from across the room. "Yeah, Logan, give us somethin’ inspiring, mon ami."

Logan grumbled, shifting uncomfortably, but you squeezed his hand encouragingly, and he sighed resignedly. "Fine, fine," he muttered, standing up slowly as he scratched the back of his neck, looking more like he was facing down a firing squad than giving a holiday toast.

Clearing his throat, Logan surveyed the room, his gaze landing briefly on each face—Rogue and Remy, their heads close together, Jean and Scott standing side by side, Hank and Ororo by the kitchen door, and you, watching him with that familiar, affectionate smile. For all his grumbling, he felt a certain warmth settle over him, and he softened, his rough edges melting just a bit.

"Alright, listen up," he started, his voice gruff. "I ain't much for speeches, so don't expect anything fancy."

A few chuckles rippled through the group, and Logan’s mouth quirked into a reluctant half-smile. "Guess I’ll just say… it’s good to be here with all of you. Feels like… well, it feels like family."

You could see his jaw tense as he struggled to find the right words, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "I know I’m not the easiest guy to get along with," he added, his gaze flicking to Scott, who smirked and gave a small nod. "But somehow… you all put up with me anyway. And for that, I’m grateful."

The room was silent, the warmth of his words settling over everyone. Logan cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the attention, and added gruffly, "So… Merry Christmas, or Happy Holidays, or whatever you wanna call it. Now can we eat already?"

Everyone laughed, a mix of fondness and amusement filling the room. You reached up, tugging him back down beside you, a proud smile on your face. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Logan rolled his eyes, though there was a warm glint in his gaze. "Next time, you’re giving the speech," he muttered, nudging you with his shoulder. The two of you settled down at the large dining table as food began to be passed around.

"Next time?" You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh no, I’ll leave the speech-making to Scott."

Scott chuckled from across the table, lifting his glass with a grin. "Hey, I don’t think I could’ve said it better myself," he said, giving Logan an approving nod. "You surprised us, Logan."

Logan let out a low grumble, taking a sip from his own glass as he muttered, "Don’t get used to it."

Jean leaned over, nudging Scott. "Maybe we should record that for next year, just in case. Can’t have him backing out."

Logan shot her a mock glare. "If you do, I’ll disappear next Christmas," he threatened, though the faint smile tugging at his lips softened the words.

"Disappearing for the holidays? Where’s your festive spirit, Logan?" Rogue teased, leaning forward with a grin. "I thought you were all about tradition now."

"Yeah, like hidin’ out in a cabin somewhere," Logan replied with a smirk, though he squeezed your hand under the table, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your knuckles.

"So, does anyone have actual plans for this year?" Bobby asked, looking around the table as he piled more mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Not all of us are grumpy loners like some people."

Scott chuckled, taking Jean’s hand. "We’re headed to her parents’ place for Christmas Eve," he said, giving her a warm smile. "Jean’s mom insists on doing this huge dinner every year—she says it’s not Christmas until she’s fed everyone twice over."

Jean groaned, though there was fondness in her eyes. "And I’ll probably end up playing Christmas carols on the piano while my mom belts out every note off-key," she admitted with a laugh. "It’s a little… chaotic, but it’s home."

Ororo smiled, her eyes softening. "I’ll be heading back to Kenya for a few days," she said. "It’s tradition to spend Christmas with the village elders, sharing stories and songs. There’s nothing quite like a warm night under the stars, surrounded by family."

Remy’s eyes lit up, and he leaned in with a grin. "Guess I’ll be showin’ Rogue the wild wonders of New Orleans," he said, wrapping an arm around her. "Gonna teach her how we really do the holidays down there."

Rogue chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Remy’s idea of ‘holiday tradition’ mostly involves gumbo, crawfish, and more than a few rounds of poker," she teased, but you could see the excitement in her eyes.

"Sounds like a party," Hank said with a warm chuckle, adjusting his glasses as he piled another serving of stuffing onto his plate. "I’ll be heading back to Illinois to see my family. Maybe I’ll actually get a chance to finish that book I started last year… if I can read on the plane without someone spilling coffee on me this time."

Scott smirked. "Pretty sure you bring half a library every time you travel, Hank. It’s bound to happen."

Hank shrugged good-naturedly, his eyes twinkling. "Can you blame me? Long flights are the perfect excuse for uninterrupted reading."

Logan, sitting beside you, glanced around at the familiar faces sharing their holiday plans, and you noticed a faint, rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So while the rest of you are off gettin’ fed and spoiled, looks like it’ll just be me and my wife, keepin' an eye on the mansion," he muttered, tilting his head toward you.

You couldn’t help but smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Guess it’s just you and me, then. I’ll have to hide all the eggnog from you."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. "Oh yeah? Good luck with that. I’ll find it, sweetheart."

Jean chuckled from across the table, leaning forward with a grin. "So, just the two of you, huh? I’m betting you’ll turn the place into a little holiday fortress. Maybe string up some mistletoe?"

"Or maybe some snowball fights on the lawn?" Rogue suggested, giving Logan a playful wink.

"Don’t give him ideas," you said, laughing as you looked up at Logan. "He’ll have the whole mansion booby-trapped with holiday lights and tinsel by the time everyone gets back."

Logan snorted, crossing his arms but clearly enjoying the teasing. "Sounds like a plan to me. Might even put on one of those terrible holiday movies you love so much. Y’know, just to drive myself crazy."

You rolled your eyes, patting his shoulder. "Oh please, you secretly love them. Admit it."

"No, I don’t," he grumbled, though the glimmer in his eyes betrayed him.

Remy leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Sounds like you two got yourself a cozy little holiday ahead."

Scott shot Logan a knowing smile. "Just try not to destroy the place while we're gone. I’d like to come back to an intact mansion."

"Yeah, yeah," Logan muttered, giving Scott a mock glare. "You all just enjoy your family gatherings. We got it covered."

You squeezed Logan’s hand under the table, smiling up at him. "Looks like we’re in for a quiet Christmas."

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice softening as he glanced down at you, that rare, warm smile returning. "Guess that doesn’t sound so bad."

As everyone laughed and chatted about their plans, you felt a cozy, unspoken promise settle between you and Logan—a quiet holiday, just the two of you, sharing the peace and warmth of the season. 

[luaalz]

Oh, hiiiiiii Logan!

[manicandobsessive]

Icarian | L.H.

Chapter 2: July

“But you arrived like sunlight in the gloom. And burned off the haze when the year was still new. Keeping me going, how you show up like July.” Andrew Hozier Byrne

Ch 1. > Ch. 2 > Ch. 3

Warnings: swearing, pet names, pure fluff, seriously it’s so sweet, mutual pining, no use of y/n

A/N: i have returned!!! apologies for how long this took, i went back and made a plan and outlined chapters and whatnot. i really love this one i hope you guys enjoy it! <3

WC: 4.1K

“Logan! I swear to fucking-”

“Swearin’ to what now, sweetheart?” The man asked with a smug grin. Logan was leaning over the railing of the mansions’ staircase, two floors up from where you stood. You scoffed at him in irritation, absolutely exasperated with his behavior. Which only further fuelled his amusement.

“Fucking get your ass down here.” You grit out through clenched teeth, even more agitated at the deep rumble of his laugh in response. It wasn’t so much his behavior that angered you, but the desire that burned beneath it. Every chuckle he let out sent shivers down your spine, every smile made the hair on your neck stand on end. It was pathetic, if not for the fact that it was Logan.

It’d been no more than three months since Logan suddenly showed up. Three months since you and had him clicked instantaneously. You could confidently say at the current point in time he was your closest friend.

And at times your worst enemy. For example, this moment exactly.

If there was one thing you’d learned in the period of time you’d spent getting to know the mystery that was Logan Howlett, it was that he absolutely loved to instigate. A sucker for drama if you’d ever met one. And while, yes, you and him terrorized Scott frequently. He seemed to love getting a reaction out of you independently.

He soon learned with great pleasure that you gave back as good as you got. He reveled in it. Logan annoyed the living hell out of you at times, but simultaneously- you were too in deep. Somehow his ridiculousness- his unwavering immaturity, only made him more appealing. ‘

And sure, maybe you’d fallen a little deeper than friendship. But you assured yourself it wasn’t like that to him. You guys were friends, best friends. That was it. That was all it ever would be.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Everyone saw it. Everyone around both of you knew. Seemingly, Logan and you were the only oblivious ones.

Logan walked through those halls like ten tons had been lifted from his body. He no longer hunched his shoulders. He didn’t stomp from point A to point B subconsciously. He even went so far as to say a brief greeting to those he passed by. You, the same. While you never were as outwardly reluctant to social interaction as Logan had been, there was a notable exchange. The other X-men, who’d known you more closely, had seen your distaste for being cooped up at all times flip to being almost excited to stay inside. There was a skip in your step. You smiled more. Logan hung outside the confines of his room more often.

And when you were in a room together, it was good luck to everyone else. There had been a bond that always existed, you two just had to find each other.

On the downside, both of you having been stubborn fucks prevented any further growth of the relationship.

Logan was aware. He was, in fact, way too aware of the effect you had on him. Seeing as he’d stuck around for three months straight. No plans for anything else. Not even a thought or consideration of leaving, not while he knew you would be here. He wouldn’t be able to, he thought. He felt this invisible thread practically tethering him to you. It was something that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t shake. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to in the first place. You had been a light, and not just to him- but to everyone. You were oblivious to the way you lit up a room. The way your warmth had effortlessly radiated to those around you. A simple flash of your smile made his day.

He often wondered if that was your mutation. If you weren’t really just a human, and you had some unknown gene of heightened empathy. How he wished he could match that level of gentleness.

Logan was burdened by his mutation. Originally, he planned on making sure you’d never find out. He was convinced you’d never accept him the way he is.

But that didn’t happen. The day you’d found out was one he’d never forget.

~

“Fucking shoot me then!”

His voice echoed through the halls. Claws extended and all. The whole nine.

He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through his adamantium skeleton. His heart thudded behind the cage of his chest- he knew in that moment exactly what he needed to do.

A few of Strykers’ men charged at him- apparently with the lack of knowledge that he could, in fact, not die. Logan took their bullets like they were nothing but a mere inconvenience. He felt no more than an itch from them, after all. He sliced through the men one-by-one. Not a single fucker survived. He’d be damned if he let someone danger the entirety of the mansion.

The rest of the X-men appeared, all at the front door at one time. Seemingly having taken care of the remaining nuisances from the outside. Logan tensed and whipped around. His hostility was evident in the way his muscles contracted under his thin tank top and how his claws stayed extended.

“We took care of the rest.” Ororo stepped forward, speaking up after a moment of silence between the group and Logan. Who seemed less than thrilled at their lack of assistance.

“Thanks for the help.” Logan grunted sarcastically, having been already pissed at the intrusion. Now, even more so at the fact that he took the blows of most of the men. The team seemed to always rely on him. His healing, his strength, his violence. He felt partially used, when he cared to look into it. But most of the time, he didn’t give enough of a shit.

His eyes scanned over the group of X-men: Jean, ‘Ro, Summers, hell- even Chuck.

Pause. Where the fuck were you?

He spoke your name in a whisper. It was soft, almost intelligible, and his heart began racing yet again with the idea that they could’ve gotten to you. He was under the impression you were an X-man of course. Why wouldn’t you be?

He never would’ve assumed you were any less than the others. You radiated the confidence of someone ten times more powerful than any of his teammates combined. He respected you beyond words. And of course, he found himself caring more than he should. More than he could deny.

Your soft spoken- slightly raspy from sleep- voice calmed his frantic movements in an instant. His shoulders dropped to his sides with the breath he let out. One he wasn’t even aware he was holding. Damn you had him whipped.

“Y’alright?” You rasped with half lidded eyes and a yawn. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your knuckles, a movement he’d noticed you do when you’re tired. You furrowed your eyebrows in crystal clear confusion. Having slept like the dead through the entire event of the night.

Logan huffed the smallest of laughs. An imperceptible smile playing on his lips. You’d have thought he’d seen a ghost with the expel of air that left his body, loudly at that.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his, still reflecting light off of them in the dead of night. You weren’t scared, just- surprised. And obviously still half asleep. You had no idea what mutation Logan harbored. Clearly, he’d had one. He was much stronger than the average man, and a million times bigger. Figuratively and literally with the way he towered over most of the tenants of the mansion. But that was the extent of your knowledge. You never thought to ask, as you gathered from your first few interactions that he wasn’t one to just open up. But you trusted that he would eventually.

He retracted them almost immediately at the look on your face. Standing frozen in the middle of the common area. He was bracing himself for the reaction that was bound to occur. He was used to it, people running from him. People being scared. Calling him a monster.

Didn’t make it sting any less.

The last thing he wanted was for you to be scared of him. He softened his posture, an attempt to seem less intimidating. Which he couldn’t really do if he tried his absolute best. It was in his nature to be on the defense. So naturally, when you blinked, your eyes opened wide in shock- his walls were built high.

You took the first step. Walking downstairs in the most graceful manner, at least from Logan’s point of view. Anything you did was perfect to him. He wasn’t a religious man by any means, but you looked like an angel.

You composed yourself. Determined to make sure the man knew you weren’t scared of him. To show him that this didn’t change any part of how you saw him whatsoever. You could sense it from the moment he’d made eye contact with you. You quickly pieced together the reason he didn’t tell you what his mutation was in the first place. He was afraid. But you wouldn’t have that. Not with Logan.

You silently walked up to him, resting a hand on his arm. He tensed just slightly. Afraid of the next thing, the next word. You looked at his face. A small smile gracing your own. He refused to meet your eyes, he focused more on your hand. The one now comforting him in the smallest of touches.

“Logan.”

You spoke in such a manner that he could never ignore you. Doesn’t matter if it were life or death. He’s not sure if the world was ending that he could ignore your sweet voice to save it. To that, he turned his head just slightly. Meeting your soft eyes, which made his own soften in return.

“Sweetheart,”

He spoke so rough, so rugged. He seemed like he was on a mission to make you flinch away. To prove himself right yet again. But you were nothing if not stubborn. And he wasn’t going to get you to back off that easily.

“I’m not scared of you.” You took the words straight out of his mouth. He stood there, soft eyes, his mouth agape. His expression was one of relief and surprise. He wasn’t sure why he doubted you in the first place. You with your unwavering kindness, your beautiful soul. Something that even a blind man could see.

His mouth opened and closed a few times. He felt like a stupid fuck. He was left with no words to say. No attempts to push you back, it was useless. You and him both knew it to be. Plus, he was in no rush to let you go.

“I’m not scared. Not of you, Logan.” You repeated. Stern but gentle, just like every other aspect of your being.

To your surprise, he smiled. He looked into your eyes with his own and he flashed you that grin that only few got the luxury of seeing. It wasn’t prideful. It wasn’t cocky. It was a smile of appreciation, something to convey what words couldn’t express. He’d only hoped you’d gotten the message.

And while you two were no more than friends, your approval seemed to be the only thing that mattered to Logan.

~

From that day on, Logan hung around like a shadow. The two of you were inseparable and even more so, unstoppable. It was clear that this wasn’t some typical surface-level relationship. Whatever was between you two ran deep, and it was only a matter of time before it became more.

You were something to Logan that was unable to be disregarded. Like a light straight to the great beyond. Like you were created for him and him alone. He so desperately needed to keep it in his clutches. Even if he was dead-set on never falling in love. He had to have you around in some capacity, though it was hard not to let himself dive in head first.

You made even the darkest days feel like the brightest, no matter what you did. Simply existing near you whether it be watching TV or silently admiring you, made Logan’s mood instantly become brighter. The whole of the mansion noticed. Charles being the first, of course.

Logan warned him from the start. He was stubborn enough to go as far as telling Scott he’d sew his mouth shut if he so much as teased either of you. He wanted no part in making anyone think you two were more than close friends. Despite his wild imagination creating a perfect world where he wasn’t concerned you’d get hurt because of him. A world where his past was merely a memory and you were his present. One where the two never mingled.

As long as he kept you at as much a distance as he could, he could keep from worrying himself sick. Didn’t mean he wanted to though. He craved to be closer to you. To hold you, kiss you, know you inside and out. The three months you two had been like this, it had only gotten significantly worse. And his desperation was even more conceivable to the naked eye.

~

Ororo, on the contrary, had a blast teasing you.

“So,” She began, pretending to innocently be catching up with you. You were more than accustomed to her nosy behavior. Her meddling didn’t bother you, it was amusing so to speak. But when it came to Logan, that was a sensitive subject. And you were well aware that she was all in on the drama when the pair of you were involved.

“How’s he been?”

You scoffed, your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head. Perhaps an attempt at seeming indifferent to the situation when you knew damn well your heart sped up at the mere thought of him.

“Drop it.”

“Drop what? He’s been around you more than anyone, it’s a simple question.”

You almost laughed at her terrible acting skills. Almost being the key word, if you weren’t so reluctant to ruin the precious bond you had with the man. Ororo wasn’t exactly known for subtlety, at least for you. She was a close friend, definitely the person you confided in the most at the mansion, even if it wasn’t much. If you were to tell anyone about this infatuation, willingly, it would be her.

It was just infatuation, right?

She could sense the gears turning in your head. A smirk plastered on her face at the sight. You looked down before muttering out a response.

“Just, he’s a good guy is all.”

“Mhm, a good guy who you wanna-”

You were swiftly interrupted by a rumble of another voice. The sound now a distinct indicator of who had entered the room.

“Whaddya wanna do?” Logan quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe with the corner of his mouth twitching. A dumb attempt to hide his smile. His arms crossed over his chest, as they always were. He seemed to love making appearances like that. At least from what you’d known. The creak of the floor as he sauntered towards the two of you made you take a deep breath in and out. One you’d hoped he hadn’t caught.

He flopped into a recliner, his arms on both armrests and his legs sprawled. It made your entire body feel like it was on fire, the way he could do the most basic of motions and look effortlessly attractive. It was annoying, to be frank.

You rolled your eyes. Not only to mask- once again, your clear state of nervous desire. But also because of the way Logan managed to invite himself into your space, not that you had an issue with it. He had made it known that he followed where you went. It was a sign of endearment, as the telling smirk on your lips showed.

“Oh. Nothing, just talking about who’s bones your woman over here wants to jump.” Storm instigated, all with a telling smile, of course. You almost screamed, if it weren’t for the bark of laughter that escaped Logan. And the way your mind raced with the fact that he didn’t stop Ororo from calling you his girl.

“‘N who would that be, darlin’?” Logan asked you, smiling all the more. He had to have known. He’d probably fucking known since the day you’d met him. And yet, three months later, you still had convinced yourself it was an infatuation. You had only spent every waking moment with him, after all.

“Nobody.” You mumbled, looking at your feet. Fully planted on the ground and ready to skip town if necessary at this rate.

“Don’t sound like nobody to me.” Logan urged a response, the one you’d given wouldn’t cut it. And if, god forbid, there was someone out there that wasn’t him who’d caught your interest. He’d have their fucking head on a platter.

“She’s just messing with me,” You look up, regaining some form of composure. You were reluctant to show Logan any type of romantic affection, despite the nagging feelings inside of you. The truth being- if you were really reflecting on it- you wanted nothing more than to do exactly that.

Logan hummed, clearly not convinced whatsoever. He read you like a book, no matter the time or place. And additionally, he had no shame calling you out on it. As you did for him. However, for some odd reason he didn’t press the matter. Which you were silently thankful for.

He knew if it were someone else he’d have lost it. So with the little self control he had left, he brushed the issue under the rug. For your sake, of course.

~

A knock startled Logan and he stirred from a restless sleep. Not that he ever had a restful sleep. He grumbled, throwing a forearm over his eyes at the sudden light spilling in from the windows.

You walked in, as you had done before. You always knocked, but Logan rarely responded with more than a simple grunt. Sometimes so low that you missed it, so you started to just invite yourself in.

He lifted his arm slightly, catching a glimpse of you in the light. You stood at the foot of his bed. Clad in a summer sundress, something he couldn’t resist on any woman. And you, well he was a lost cause. He was just a man after all.

He smirked, you caught it. Despite your obvious annoyance, the position you always ended up in with him was amusing. Him being the one getting scolded for yet another missed mission debriefing, you being the one to lecture him since the team was well aware of his soft spot for you. He’d never get mad at you, he was sure of it. He couldn’t. It was impossible to.

You started to believe that he was skipping meetings for these moments alone. Maybe the thought was a little delusional, but he’d missed at least four and at the rate he was going, it seemed he didn’t plan on stopping.

“Sorry, doll-”

“Don’t gimme that bullshit.” You crossed your arms, puffing your chest just slightly while you cut him off. Logan thought it was adorable, you trying to be defiant. He knew deep down you anticipated these moments just as much as he did.

“I gotta sit down there and listen to Scott bitch about you not showing up. And I’m not even a fucking mutant!” You huff, your annoyance was clear with the way your voice raised ever so slightly. Though, Logan was bold to assume it was more towards Scott. And if he’d asked, he’d have been correct. Logan could be insufferable, but he was still Logan. And though you were irritated, you knew he could take the brunt of your frustration for you without flinching.

“You better get your shit together, or I might start thinking you’re doing this on purpose.”

“So what if I am?” He countered with a raise of his eyebrow. You scoffed, despite the crimson that dusted your cheeks. He sat up against his headboard with a victorious smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gave way to your true feelings.

“You’re insufferable.”

He shrugged, his smug expression still present on his face. Oh how you wanted to kiss it off of him.

“I could hit you right now.”

“But you won’t.” He countered, always a response.

You groaned, throwing your head back and turning your back to him. Walking towards his door.

“Wait, doll.” You paused, back still to him while you glanced over your shoulder.

“C’mere.” He gestured for you to sit next to him. On his bed.

Sure, you’d been in his room before. And maybe you two hung out there once or twice. But you always made sure to sit in another chair, or if anything the edge of his bed. Never had he invited you in it, let alone next to him. And so close, too.

You hesitantly shuffled over to him. Slowly lowering yourself to sit down. His broad shoulder brushed yours. He smirked, as he always did with you. He looked down into your eyes as you looked up into his. Your face was the epitome of how shy you felt around him. Especially at times like this.

Your big innocent eyes, the soft reflection of the light on your skin. The way your lips looked so soft and inviting. It was all too much and not enough for Logan.

And then, he moved your hair behind your ear. A movement so subtle it could’ve meant nothing.

Or everything.

You blinked, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Ya mad at me, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, knowing damn well you never could be. And Logan, well he may just have wanted to see you get all flustered. Hearing your heart race made his own pick up speed.

You subconsciously leaned into his touch, a small smile on your pretty face. He wished he could have stopped time and taken a picture. One to keep for himself alone.

“No, asshole. Just, go to the meetings. So Scott will leave me alone.” You added onto the end, a little something that would hopefully give him a push. You wanted to believe that if you asked him to do something for you, he’d do it.

And you were right.

He huffed and smiled, dropping his hand to now rest on to of your own. You weren’t sure if he was doing it consciously or not. It made you a flustered mess either way.

“M’kay. I’ll go.” He replied, his voice gruff and soft all the same. He brushed his rough thumb over your soft knuckles. It made your heart grow ten sizes. The way he treated you so gently. It didn’t go unnoticed.

He stood from his bed, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Only for ya’ though, darlin’.” He added the last part, the small kiss spurring on your emotions even more. He smiled as he left the room- his room. All but leaving you sitting on his bed, wide eyed and flustered. You scoffed in disbelief, a smile following promptly after.

You up and left his room moments later, once you’d finally composed yourself, and you practically skipped to your room. The energy eminanting off of you was prominent. Your thoughts so loud that Jean, who was just passing through, caught them without even trying.

Jean despised the way the two of you had acted with each other. It was sickening how sweet he seemed to be for you. He’d never once given her that same softness. He’d never given anybody that softness, to her knowledge. Even in the deepest depths of his infatuation with her. It was a type of gesture that nobody had seen from Logan.

And while everyone else found it adorable, the way he followed you like a lost puppy. The way he talked about you like you were his entire world. Two people who could be no less than meant for each other in every sense of the word.

She was disgusted.

Part of her wished desperately to be happy for you guys, to act like the rest of the X-men. But the inconsolable jealousy she felt took over the mere fiber of her being every single fucking time. And not only was she upset with Logan, who no longer spared her as much as a second glance. But she hated herself for how she felt. For having her own boyfriend, one who loved her like no other, and still having the nagging thirst to ruin you and Logan.

Something was up with her. Something nobody except her and Charles had known was coming a long time ago.

[loganskittyhair]

i live there btw

[voodoo-tofu]

I'm supposed to be doing schoolwork but

In dofp and logan goes back in time in his 1973 body, he has bone claws. it makes sense, since origins was 1979. except he loses his memory after weapon x in 1979. does that mean he didn't realize he had bone claws?

[lovecandyxx]

Old Man Logan come home the kids miss you….

[oracleviolet93]

Been getting inspired again! How does a private “tutoring lesson” with professor DOFP!Logan sound? 😉

[loganismybodyguard]

Any similarity is purely coincidental (2) 😮‍💨

Cat

[luaalz]

Eu gostaria de ter visto mais da amizade de Logan e Peter em DOFP, ele parece ter um carinho, ou pelo menos uma boa lembrança do Peter. Eu gosto de pensar que eles eram grandes amigos no "futuro esquecido".

Isso também me faz pensar, o que caralhos o Peter pensaria se soubesse que o Logan matou inúmeras na base do Stryker? Tipo, ele conheceu um Logan completamente do que conhecemos🫠

I would have liked to have seen more of Logan and Peter's friendship in DOFP, he seems to have a fondness, or at least a fond memory of Peter. I like to think they were great friends in "future past".

This also makes me wonder, what the fuck would Peter think if he knew that Logan killed countless people at Stryker's base? Like, he met a completely different Logan than we know🫠

[manicandobsessive]

Icarian | L.H. | Masterlist

~ Prologue: Nobody's Solider

~Wildflower and Barley

~July

~That You Are

~Too Sweet

~Who we Are

~To Someone From a Warm Climate

~Icarian

~First Time / Empire Now

~Unknown/Nth

~Abstract (Psychopomp)

~All Things End

~Francesca

~Epilogue: Hymn to Virgil

Inspired by Hozier, duh.

[lovecandyxx]

That's it. That's the post.

pic txt cr: me૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[wlwloverwrites]

this is honestly one of my favorite fics that i’ve written… ever. so if you haven’t read it and want to, let me know what you think :)

Future Boyfriend

Pairing: 70s!Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: afab reader, calling reader darlin’, reader is wearing a dress, sweat kink?, panty sniffing, squirting, brief handjob, cum play, nipple play, car sex (again) smut (18+) no minors

Summary: Logan, a man supposedly from the future, claims he is your boyfriend, so you ask him to prove it.

A/N: California’s heat wave in September is killing me. No one look at me. This fic just kept getting dirtier and dirtier.

Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS

“So you’re from the future, huh?” You ask looking at the gruff man sitting in the driver’s seat.

“A little more complicated than that, Darlin, but you can say that,” the man reassures.

You hum sarcastically. Choosing to ignore the nickname he gives, which only makes him laugh under his breath. There’s a soft breeze that makes its way into the 1972 Buick Riviera and suddenly you’re hit with the smell of cigars. The smell, no doubt, coming from - “Wait, what’s your name again?”

It’s silent for a second, the only thing that fills your ears is the car’s roar when he hurrily pulls under a shady tree on the side of the road.

“My name’s Logan,” he huffs playfully as he puts the car in park.

“Logan,” you feel yourself mimicking with a smile on your face.

He looks up at you with a sly smile, his sunglasses are now sitting on the dashboard, which gives you more of him to study.

Your eyes take in his sharp nose, soft eyes, and grown out facial hair before they drop to the three undone buttons on his collared shirt. The hair on his chest makes your fingers itch to undo the last few buttons and tug off his brown leather jacket. You’d be doing him a favor too.

The summer heat is criminal.

As if he read your mind, Logan tugs off his leather jacket, throwing it over his shoulder to the back seat. You expect him to stop, but his thick fingers work to undo the rest of his buttons as he pulls off his shirt. His shirt falls on top of his leather jacket, leaving him in his low rise jeans held by a thick brown belt and white undershirt.

“So I’m just supposed to believe that you,” you point at Logan, then yourself. “And me end up together?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” He asks raising his eyebrows.

The man is sex on legs. If anything you should be applauding your future-self for fucking and tying the man down.

“Kind of, yeah,” you lie.

“Liar.”

Before you could reply Logan readjusts himself in the driver’s seat. The sight of him widening his legs and throwing his arm over your shoulder has your mind thinking maybe the man isn’t crazy. Words are stuck in your throat when his lips dips to meet the sticky skin on your collarbone.

“Had you wrapped around my finger,” his breath is hot against the junction of your neck as he whispers against your skin.

His flirtatious tone makes you squirm on the leather seats and you find it’s getting harder to ignore the building heat between your thighs. The leather from the bench styles seats sticks to your skin. Your brightly patterned dress does little to separate you from the leather, instead it clings to you body where sweat forms on your skin.

“Prove it.”

Maybe Logan isn’t talking out of his ass or trying to use some lame pick up line. He could be telling the truth.

It’s only fair you give him a chance.

Connecting your lips, the kiss is messy which has you opening your legs and welcoming the left hand that’s gripping your thigh. The arm over your shoulder pushes you closer to him and your hands find his face. Pulling away, you cup his cheeks in your hands as you angle his head to the left. This time when you lips meet, you’re stifling a moan. The hand between your thigh expertly finds your clit over your cotton panties. He pays no mind at the sweat between your thighs, instead he rubs small circles that has you rolling your hips against his hand, begging for more.

“Just like that,” you praise.

His hand doesn’t even flinch.

“I know, Darlin.”

He knows what you like.

“Cause you’re from the future?” You can barely spit out your words and whine when Logan pulls your panties to the side. Your brain only comprehends the way his fingers glide through your folds. He nods as he gathers your slick and uses it to rub your clit again.

“I know your body. Had years of practice.”

His words have you whimpering and hiding your face in his neck. The hands that were holding his face fall and greedily grab at his biceps. The muscles are firm in your hands and call for your teeth. Everything about the man makes your mouth water. The carnivorous ache in your teeth makes you feel silly, but you settle for moaning his name instead.

His fingers rub your clit and occasionally tease at your entrance where you’re dripping; however, despite your whines, Logan doesn’t give in. Squirming against his hand, unsure if you’re running to or from him, Logan keeps you in place causing your panties to scratch at your skin. Focusing on his fingers, you try your best to ignore the uncomfortable friction scratching your right inner thigh. Your eyes fall shut and suddenly your nose is hyperaware of the man’s scent. The smell of cheap cigars tickles your nose, but it’s the smell of his sweat that makes your head spin.

His scent makes you widen your legs. The shift allows for more friction on your sensitive skin, but you still choose to ignore it. Distracting yourself with his scent, you bury your nose in his neck and inhale; the way you breathe him in is animalistic. The loud sniff makes Logan laugh, making his fingers pick up their pace. You shift once one, this time a painful whine escapes your lips.

“W-What’s wrong?”

It isn’t his scared question that brings you back to reality, but the halt to his fingers. Your mouth falls shut and you open your eyes to see a very concerned Logan staring down at you.

Worried eyes jump all over your face and body, looking for your pain making your heart skip a beat. His free hand caresses the side of your face and tilts it to face him. He’s so concerned that your blood starts to feel hot.

Did his stare have to be this instense?

Shaking your head you reassure, “It’s nothing.”

Your attempt to comfort him is cut off by his lips. Expecting his teeth to clash with yours, your heads spins once more. Instead his kiss is soft and has you melting into the leather seat beneath you. Wet tongues taste each other, his tongue is romantic while yours is curious.

To him, your taste is comforting. His kiss is making up for lost time. Soft lips are desperate to commit every inch of your mouth to memory.

To you, his taste is addicting. You crave his entire being, his smell, touch, words, and lips. He reels you in with claws.

“Tell me, Darlin,” he begs as his lips travel down to your neck.

Shyly, your hands slip beneath the skirt of your dress and hook your underwear on your fingers and pull them off. Awkwardly you lift your hips to pull off the scratchy, grey material, but Logan is quick to take over.

“I was chafing,” you whisper, clearly embarrassed.

His body visibly relaxes before he shakes his head at the material in a disapproving manner. Meanwhile, his hand between your thighs searches for the irritated skin. Your sharp inhale tells him he’s found it before he gently kneads at your skin, a silent apology.

Careful not to irritate your skin more, Logan goes back to tug off your panties hugging at your thighs. His voice is taunting as he coos, “Don’t worry, I’ll take them off your hands.”

You nod at his words and expect him to toss your panties in the back seat the same way he did his shirt and jacket, but your jaw drops when he brings the cotton up to his nose. The sound of him breathing in the grey cotton fills the car and suddenly your bottom lip stings from the force of your teeth. You watch as his eyes roll back and you swear you see pink reach out and taste the wet cotton.

Pride builds in the bottom of your stomach as your body moves before you can stop it. You climb on his lap, thighs trapping the both of his, similar to the way your arms trap his neck. The steering wheel digs into the small of your back, but the bulge on Logan’s jeans brushing against your pussy does a great job in distracting you. Playfully, Logan jerks his hips upward, bouncing you on his lap, but you watch as his carefully stuffs the grey cotton into his back pocket.

“My future boyfriend is such a pervert,” you giggle.

“You like it,” he smirks as his hand finds its way between your thighs.

A gasp escapes your lips when two fingers shove themselves inside you, no longer playing the teasing game. Your pussy clenches, struggling to accommodate the thickness of his fingers. Logan wastes no time and ignores your pleads for a an extra second. His fingers, wet with your arousal, curl and hit the spongy spot inside you that has you cursing his name against his neck.

Your hips ride his hand, eager for more despite your whines. His fingers curl expertly and have you hiding your face in his neck. Sweat builds at your hairline, your spine, and the back of your neck, but you don’t care. The growing pleasure between your thighs captures your full attention and you pathetically cry Logan’s name, but he shushes you with his lips.

He whispers soft praises against your lips, letting you know it’s okay. The steering wheel digs into your back and the leather seats stick to your shines, holding you in place. With no where to escape, a loud gasp of Logan’s name is his only warning before your pussy gushes on his fingers and onto his jeans. Your heart races as the pressure in your lower tummy releases. Squeezing Logan’s fingers so tight it has him cursing as he watches your eyes roll back. He groans as a familiar, sweet scent, one only he can smell, fills his nostrils.

“Smell like my favorite candy.”

Your ears barely register Logan’s praises on how sweet you smell or the way he tucks the skirt of your dress so he can see the wet mess between your thighs and his jeans. Slipping his fingers out of your pussy, it’s not long after wet fingers find their way to your parted lips and push past your teeth.

“Come on. Taste it.”

His fingers press on your lips, egging you to lick them clean. His dark eyes meet yours and watch as your tongue peeks out and drools over his glistening fingers. Your subtle sweet taste lingers on your tongue and the way he’s looking at you is making you want to swallow down his fingers. Rather than feeding you his fingers, he smears your remaining juices on your lips. Your slick coats your lips like a cheap lip gloss, tricking your mind to rub your lips together.

“My turn,” Logan groans before his lips kiss yours.

The kiss is filthy.

His tongue licks your lips clean, almost like a dog. It should gross you out, the way he’s licking you, as if he’s eating you from the source, but it doesn’t. He groans at your familiar taste as your blind, impatient hands reach to tug off the thick, brown belt trapping his cock.

“Taste so good,” Logan moans, his hands reaching down to help you when a frustrated whine falls past your lips.

The metal clinks and the sound of his zipper makes your ears perk up. Taking over, your fingers hook on his belt loops and tug off his jeans. Your eyes widen when they are immediately rewarded with the sight of dark, wiry hairs leading up to his thick and veiny cock instead of underwear.

“Fuck me,” the curse escapes you before you can even think. It’s quiet so Logan lets you think he didn’t catch it. His thighs flex, a silent beg for your touch and you’re quick to comply. Without wasting time, your hand wraps around his thick cock.

“You’re big,” you whisper. Not as a praise or compliment, but a fact.

Bigger than you expected.

“You can take it,” he nods like he’s talking from experience.

His cock is heavy in your hand and mind races with dirty thoughts. Before you can reply, his hand traps the hand wrapped around his cock. He squeezes your hand as he guides your hand up and down his cock. His thumb pushes yours to circle the tip of his cock. Despite him being the one that guided your hand, despite him expecting the pleasure, his hips shudder beneath you and your name falls past his lips. You watch, memorizing the way his eyes flutter shut.

This time you fist his cock without his help, slapping his hand away.

The head of his cock glisten with precome that makes your mouth water. Your face feels hot when your eyes watch Logan curse under his breath and leak onto your hand. Adjusting yourself on his lap, you decide to use both your hands. Your left hand grabs the base of his cock, while your right hand jerks the rest of his cock.

“You’re so leaky,” you giggle and then some more when his cock spits out onto your hand.

He scoffs at you, but moans your name when your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock. His come piles on your thumb and he groans when it presses against his lips. You smirk when you repeat his words, “Come on. Taste it.”

Shamelessly, Logan’s lips wrap around over your thumb. His tongue licks your thumb clean so when you pop your thumb out of his mouth, it glistens with his spit. His eyes lock with yours and the overwhelming feeling of needing to be full takes over.

Logan sees it in your eyes. There’s a cloudy and dazed look in your eyes when you grab the base of his cock and line him up to your entrance. His rough hands hold your hips as you sit on his cock, gasping at every inch. Logan’s stare where the both of you meet has you drooling on his cock. Despite your slick, he watches as you struggle to take his cock.

“Know you can do, Darlin, you used to do it all the time,” he praises.

Your hands reach out to his shoulders. You pout as you take another inch, “That’s future me though.”

Logan lets out a hearty laugh. His laugh makes your heart flutter. The flutter travels down to your pussy and suddenly the laugh is cut short when your walls squeeze around him. His nails dig into the meat of your hips as he tugs at your skin, encouraging you to ease the burn in your thighs and just sit on his lap.

Aching with need, you furrow your brows as you sink further on his cock. Crying out his name when he slides deeper into your cunt. The head of his cock brushing past the spongy spot inside you.

Drunken with pleasure, Logan’s fingers grip your hips and moans, “Knew I had to find you.”

The pressure in your lower stomach builds as your skin’s temperature begins to rise. Your walls squeeze around his cock, adjusting to the stretch. His cock wet with your slick makes it easier for you to take the last inch of his cock.

“I’m so full,” you whine, cloudy eyes stare up at Logan’s soft stare.

Taking a moment to adjust, your lips find his as your fingers bury themselves in his hair. Tugging at the dark roots and smiling against the beads of sweats that pile on the back of his neck.

The hands that were on your hips rise to the small of your back, pushing your body closer. Forcing you leaning onto his body, your clit rests on the wet, wiry hairs on his pelvis. The hairs tickling your clit every time he nudges your body closer.

His left hand cups the side of your face and groans into your mouth when you carefully lift your hips. Pulling away, a line of spit connect the both of you for a second before it falls onto your chin. With a shaky breath, you work your hips down and sit on his cock with a soft bounce.

“That’s it, Darlin,” he praises, his eyes falling to the plunging neckline of your dress.

His lips kiss down your neck, teeth tugging at the neckline of your dress. Your hands slip from his hair when he yanks your dress to expose your breasts. You gasp as his lips wrap around your nipple, while he rolls the other between his fingers.

“Fuck.”

Logan’s mouth is desperate as he mouths at your nipple, occasionally, groaning into your skin when you grind your hips against his. Holding his head to your chest you focus on bouncing yourself on his cock, setting an even pace while chasing your high.

Your slick drips down his length and he can feel it dripping down his balls. A creamy ring decorates the base of his cock that only gets creamier with each bounce.

“Missed you so much,” Logan groans out on your chest, his mouth pulling away, only to give the same treatment to your other nipple.

Your pussy spasms over his cock trying to commit every vein to memory. The ache in your hips and the pain building from the steering wheel digging into your back is ignored as you mumble Logan’s name like a mantra.

“I’m close.” You cry out, as a weak warning.

You smile when you feel him nod against your chest, his silent way of letting you know that he knows. The roll of your hips get messy and the way your leaking on his cock gives him more than enough to figure you’re close to coming on his cock. You just need that extra push and he’s more than willing to give you that.

“Come on, Darlin,” he hums, slipping a hand between the both of you. The toothy smile he gives you when his fingers find your puffy clit has you whining his name. His eyes drop to your chest again, watching as your tits bounce with every attempt of chasing your orgasm. His fingers are soaked with your sweet slick as he rubs even circles on your clit. Your jaw drops as your body tenses.

“That’s it, darlin. Let go.”

Your walls squeeze his cock as he fights the urge to come inside you. He smiles at your bunched up dress that does little to cover you. Your entire body glistens with sweat and the sweet smell of your pussy fills Logan’s nose. He’s memorized as he watches your head fall back, exposing your neck and feels your walls clench uncontrollably around his cock.

“Ah! Lo-”

Gasping for air, you try to warn him, you really do, but it’s too late. Trying to run away from his fingers and cock, your lift your hips, unintentionally causing his cock to hit that spongy spot inside you before it slaps against his stomach. The lingering feeling of his cock spreading you open has you squirting on his cock with a cry.

“Logan!”

Overstimulated, Logan’s fingers pet your clit softly, smiling when your tired body jerks on his lap. His abs underneath his tank top flex when he sees a wet mess between your thighs, no doubt adding to the puddle on the leather seats. Chasing his orgasm, Logan’s hand reaches down to fist his soaked cock.

“F-fuck,” he stutters as the lewd sounds of Logan fisting his cock fill your ears. His hips flex as moans slip out of his mouth.

Slowly, you become more aware of your surroundings and help Logan finish. Eager to both see and hear how Logan comes, your hand replaces his. Shaky fingers wrap around his cock as your work a tight grip up and down his cock.

“Gonna come for me?”

Your sweet tone makes him throw his head back. A smile creeping on his face when you give him a playful and loud kiss on his cheek.

“Come on, I’m your future girlfriend,” you tease as your flick your wrist and swipe your thumb over the tip of his leaky cock. “You know you want to.”

The giggly banter, the banter he missed so much, has him choking out your name and spilling onto your hand. Spurts of his come land on your dress, on his shirt, and onto your hand. You watch as Logan’s chest rises and falls with every deep breath. His flushed skin glistens with sweat, similar to yours.

The silence is comfortable for a couple minutes as the both of your fix on your clothes onto your sticky skin. Huffing out loud as the heat suddenly begins to hit you, you shift on Logan’s lap. Looking up at him only to find his eyes already looking at you. Suddenly shy, you lower your gaze and look out the car window.

“You’re the first person I looked for.”

His confession is quiet and has you pulling your attention from the swaying trees to the soft eyes staring at you.

“Why?” You ask just as soft. “Why didn’t you wait to meet me how you’re suppose to?”

A part of you wants to bring up the way his fingertips dug into your skin, holding you down as if he was scared you were going to disappear. Maybe bring up the way his kiss press onto your skin just a tad too harsh, desperate with love. You most definitely want to bring up the salty tears that slipped down his cheeks when his cried out your name as he came.

“Just wanted more time with you,” he admits, avoiding eye contact for the first time since he first convinced you to get in his car.

“What do you mean?” You ask with a nervous laugh.

In attempt to comfort you, or maybe it’s for his own comfort, Logan’s rough hands find yours, intertwining your fingers together. His throat feels like its closing, but he still manages to spit out his selfish words.

“I needed more time with you.”

No pressure tags: @eupheme @mrsimpurity @joelsgoldrush @djarins-riduur @superhoeva @d1stalker @moonlight-prose @ozarkthedog @sunsburns @inkedells i love yall !!! Each and every single one of you are so talented and have individually inspired me to write for Logan! So thank you :)

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