#logan howlett x reader

[loganficsonly]

After months of pining and yearning and longing, Worst!Logan doesn't pounce on and devour you like you thought he would.

Instead, he's slow and deliberate. He's had precious things slip through his fingers before—it makes sense that he'd want to drag this out now that he has you.

You're left hypnotized by the pace he sets. Fingers graze your arm just so, tracing each goosebump that forms on your skin thanks to his touch. Thumb only slightly touching your bottom lip, his gaze glued to the way he coaxes them to part.

It's slow when he first leans in to kiss you, too. The room is so quiet you almost can't hear him breathe, except for the little hitch in his breath when your lips slot against his. One might call it chaste if they viewed it, but being on the receiving end, you think it's dirty—the drag of his tongue, slowly slipping into your mouth, the snake of his hand up your chest. The long, low growl that escapes him when he feels you cling onto his shirt, your tongue brushing against his in a wet kiss.

Somehow it feels like he's trying to cheat time, touching you as if you're in slow motion, because all he wants is just to milk this moment for every drop of pleasure it's worth.

He's patient even as he sinks his cock into you, even as you squirm and writhe, wanting—no, needing more. He hovers on top of you, crowding you while you melt into the sheets. Hand steadily presses on your hip to still you, forcing you to feel every vein on his hard length as he feeds his inches into your slick heat, as if a demand for you to memorize them. On his part, he's licking his lips like he can taste the moment, darkened eyes roving your naked figure, painting fire on your skin.

"So fucking tight."

You whine.

"Look so good like this."

His words are slow too, rumbly and guttural in his chest, moreso than his usual speech. They coil around you, bending you to his wants as he takes you, pumping slowly in and out of you.

"L-Logan," you cry out, frustrated at how leisurely he's taking this. Nails on his back tell him you're restless. "Please..."

"Patience, pretty," he breathes, lips against your ear. "Let me savor you."

[teresas-lisbon]

this. this is art! someone give me this man, i need him biblically.

GUARD DOG

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader || WC: 5.0k

SYNOPSIS: On another one of your joint club outings with Wade, your boyfriend Logan stands by to make sure you enjoy your night. Once you both arrive at your apartment, he tends to your needs and helps you relax.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Established Relationship. Age gap implied [Logan is his canon age, Reader is mid to late 20's]. Alcohol consumption. Kissing. Unprotected P in V. Shower sex. Fingering (f receiving). Manhandling. Biting/Marking Kink. Size Kink if you squint. Mutual fantasies of public sex. Worst!/Variant! Logan Howlett. Grumpy! Logan in public, soft! Logan in private. Wade is the third wheel who drinks for fun but can't get drunk (obvi). Descriptions of the reader's clothing (mini skirt & skimpy top). Reader is shorter than Logan in heels. Logan can pick the reader up.

A/N: Lord this was a pain in the ass to write for absolutely no reason, but I am glad it's done. Big shoutouts and thank yous to @ozarkthedog and @pedgito for reading this over and encouraging me. And also thank you to @zloshy and @studioghibelli for holding my hand and helping me out with the brainstorming process. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

To this day, Logan doesn’t know why he still puts up with Wade’s shit or agrees to his antics. But he doesn’t mind doing it so long as it keeps his eccentric friend off his back and keeps you happy.

The club he was brought to was loud, the air thick with the pungent stench of weed, and he swears he could distinctly sniff out cocaine in the bathrooms, irritating his nose. Bright strobe lights strained his vision, and the obnoxious pop music vibrating through the walls was anything but pleasing to his sensitive ears. Thankfully, the bar had Jack Daniels on the shelf, enough to do the job and keep himself busy.

He raises his arm to lean against the bar, sipping away at his fourth cup of whiskey, knowing that the buzz he feels will go away as quickly as it hits him. Adept eyes scanned the club, landing on your figure as you danced to the current song.

Logan admired the sway of your hips, the mini skirt you wore riding up your thighs with every pop and swivel. The low-cut top you paired it with shifted when your arms rose to the beat change, the open back showing more than enough skin to leave to the imagination. He could taste the light sheen of sweat from your neck at a distance, amplifying your natural pheromones that elevated the perfume you sprayed on earlier.

He did what he did best. He watched. Even with his dominating presence, he was hyper-aware of the other men who stood by prowling like hawks, stalking their prey and waiting for the best moment to attack. Wade was enough to keep you safe during your joint club outings, but now that he was with you, Logan ensured you made it home every night.

You were smart and vigilant, always were before you met him. But Logan was familiar with the instinctive behavior of men, especially men like him. Ill-tempered. Selfish. Prone to arguments and have an affinity to attract trouble. He knows what they were all thinking, creating mental checklists of what tricks they’d use to guarantee you went home with them instead. Countless fantasies of their hands feeling you up, touching you in ways that Logan was allowed to, in a way only he could.

His heart thumped in his ribs at the thought. The innate possession he felt towards you flared as he impatiently wiped his hand over the dark denim of his jeans, ignoring the growing itch to claw the next fucker that thought about coming within six feet of you.

You could hold your own; you’ve told him more than enough times that he didn’t need to stand by and monitor your every move. Yet he does it without hesitation, refusing to give anyone else a chance to breathe you in or get close enough to touch what was his. 

Wade waltzes to the bar and orders another martini, glancing at Logan and contorting his neck to peek at you dancing with a blissful smile.

“Having fun, Wolvie?” he asks, grin widening as his lips envelop the thin straw in his drink, slurping it up like a refreshing cup of water. 

“You know the answer to that,” Logan mutters, finishing the rest of his amber liquid in one gulp before tapping the cup on the bar countertop and asking for a refill. The bartender flashes him a look of concern, receiving a flick of Wade’s hand and topping off the glass.

“You’re five drinks in. Quit being so fucking grumpy,” Wade sneers, detecting someone walking in their direction. “Now flip that frown upside down, Logie bear. Our girl is coming over, and I don’t need you getting your panties in a twist because you’re moody.”

Logan rolled his eyes before spotting you striding to him, standing in front of the burly man with a hazy smile. He noticed the multitude of heads that turned to follow your direction, tracking you with every step you took toward the deviant pair. A low whistle seized his attention, Logan’s head rapidly spun at the sound to find its source and nip it in the bud. The growl settling in the back of his throat simmered down once your soft hand touched his chest, grounding him to you.

“Hey, old man.” Even in heels, you still couldn’t reach him face-to-face, smirking when his thick arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer. “Enjoyed the show?”

“The music in here fucking sucks, but I can’t complain too much,” Logan’s lips hovered over the shell of your ear, lowering his voice as he spoke. “You were my favorite part.”

“Oh, you weren’t looking at the girl in the cocktail dress? I don’t know, her dress was real short.” The corner of his mouth curled up, challenging your statement that feigned any truth. Giggling, you clutched his bicep, the alcohol loosening your tongue to speak more bluntly. You pivoted to spot Wade, who watched you both from afar in animated shock.

“Problem?”

“Sorry, honey. I just can’t stand seeing the two of you be all touchy-feely in front of me. It’s very disturbing.” Wade finished his martini, ordering a margarita and explicitly asking for a tiny umbrella. “I hate that you took my spot. Creeping in like a slut into a happy home and snatching my man away.”

Ever since Wade had introduced you to Logan almost a year ago, it had been an instant connection he got front-row seats to witness. He was excited when he finally compelled Logan to go to the club you both frequented, recalling how he raked his eyes over you when you weren’t looking. It was only a matter of time before you left the club with Logan one night, and Wade met him at the front door the following day like a disappointed parent acknowledging his walk of shame. 

All jokes aside, considering the pair he just unleashed into the world, he would believe himself to be the city’s most qualified and successful cupid.

“Can’t call me a homewrecker if there was no home to wreck, sweetie,” you shrugged, hearing Logan’s dry chuckle.

“Sure, whatever. But you should be thanking me, you know? You get to have those big, meaty hands on you all the time. Not to mention you get to fuck him and actually see his d-”

“Wilson.” Logan’s voice cut him off, causing Wade to murmur under his breath. You fronted the brunette, messing with the collar of his leather jacket.

“Don’t be mean to him. He’s right. I do have the happy privilege of fucking you all the time.” Your glossy lips hypnotized Logan, his hand kneading your rear as he caught your breathless laugh again. He’ll never fully admit it, but he’s always loved your lack of filter when you had a little bit to drink. You were funny and engaging without needing the extra boost, but something about you being openly vulgar made his blood flow south.

“That you do.” His ego blazes inside him, leaning forward to kiss you in the club for the first time that night.

You happily accepted it with a pleased hum, tasting the Jack he’d been drinking and exchanging the flavor of vodka still on your tongue. Your fingers clutched at his jacket, body pulsing with need as the alcohol in your system beelined straight to your clit. Audible gagging noises pushed you to draw away from Logan, your drunken sight landing on the culprit.

“Oh, am I interrupting you guys? I told you to give me a PDA warning next time before you start getting freaky, otherwise I’m joining,” Wade taunted, getting a scoff from you and an irritated grunt from his friend.

“How about we share another drink? Will you forgive me then, Wadey?” You flapped your lashes at him, his wrinkly skin creasing to mimic your gleeful appearance.

“Fine, but only because you know how to sweet talk me. Tequila?” Your optimistic nod motivated him to order another round of shots for the two of you to down. You felt a gentle squeeze on your arm, meeting Logan’s gaze and silent questioning. Can you handle drinking more?

“Just a few more, and we’ll go, okay?” You stroked his chin, kissing the corner of his jaw in reassurance. He asked to test your senses, only intervening to stop if you were too far gone to speak to him. Unlike him, he wants you to keep your liver intact.

“Alright. But the second he starts offering you shit to snort, we’re leaving.”

“I would do no such thing!” Wade dramatically reacts, offering two tequila shots while holding some of his own. “Besides, I don’t need our precious darling over here fucking up her pretty nose. She needs that thing to smell your bullshit from a mile away.”

With another laugh, you swallowed the shot of clear liquid, inhaling a hiss and consuming the next, sucking on the lime to reset your tastebuds. Your body warmed with a buzz from the drink, an electric shock coursing through your veins as it roused you. 

“C’mon, sugarplum, you owe me a dance.” You didn’t have time to waste as Wade dragged you to the dance floor, throwing Logan a flirty wave and joining your mutual friend. The Wolverine returned to his position, manning his post and sipping on the remaining liquid in his glass. He kept tallies on the wandering eyes that gravitate to you, fighting the urge to rip out every single one.

He’ll keep the peace for your sake. You were already his, you’ve been his ever since you took him home and made him stay the night. What more did he have to prove?

It was nearing two in the morning when you finally decided to call it a night. By now, the heels on your feet started slipping, and your footing grew unsteady when you attempted to walk to the bathroom. You held your bearings long enough for Logan to call a cab home after buying some greasy food for you to eat, shooing Wade once he said he was stopping by Vanessa’s.

Logan’s touch was constant the entire way home, skimming your thigh and lower back in the cab, responding to every one of your little mumbles to keep you awake until you arrived at your apartment. Getting you out of the backseat was another hassle he was familiar with, aiding you to stand up straight without accidentally exposing yourself. The best solution he came up with was carrying you inside, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he held you steady and trekked inside the apartment complex.

He didn’t mind the faint squeezes of your arms or the clenches of your thighs around his waist. You were calm, safe, and happy, mindlessly humming in the crook of his neck as he eased his way through the front door. Strong arms entrapped you as the familiar walls of your bedroom filled your vision, Logan placing you on the edge of your bed with a huff of breath.

“I’m gonna get you a cup of water. Alright?” Logan’s hazel eyes met yours, taking in your feeble nod.

“Okay,” voice light and airy, you patiently waited for Logan to return as promised. Within a minute, he had a tall glass of cold water in his hand, a few ice cubes floating at the top.

“Open up. Need you to drink some of this for me.” Heeding his command, you sipped the refreshing beverage, soothing your parched throat. You got halfway down the glass before he drew the cup away, placing it on the bedside table for later.

“Let’s get these heels off now,” Logan suggested next, descending to his knees and bending his leg to raise your foot on his thigh, messing with the straps tied to your ankles.

“Yes, please. They’re fucking killing me.”

He chuckled as you wiggled your foot at him, allowing his thick fingers to unclasp the buckle that held your heels together. Peeling one of the shoes off and dropping it to the floor, he loosened the other, the heel falling to the ground with an audible thud.

Strong hands held your right foot by the ankle and gently twisted it, stretching the tendon after a long night out and doing the same to the left. You whizzed contently at the touch, the devoted rubs of his thumbs and forefingers massaging your feet after hours of dancing never failed to make you feel better. Before you started dating him, you underestimated Logan’s capacity to be affectionate, but he eventually got the hang of things once your relationship grew more steady. 

Sure, he had been alive a long time, you got that warning from Wade prior to meeting Logan. But once you cracked through that tough exterior, you developed a soft spot for the man buried under all that trauma.

“Always so nice to me yet grumpy with everyone else,” you said, running a hand through his hair as he stayed on his knees.

“You’re saying you don’t like special treatment?” he teased, the look in his eye heating your belly. He caressed your shin, drawing circles over your skin as you watched him.

“Never said that. Like it too much sometimes,” he stood up, kissing the top of your head and walking to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“Let’s take those clothes off and get you in something less skimpy.”

“Already? You didn’t tell me anything about my skimpy outfit. Thought you liked it…” you feigned a pout, and Logan raised a curious eyebrow.

“You look good, you always do. I told you that before we left.” He loomed over you, a shiver rushing down your spine when his musk surrounded you. His hands were at either side of your hips, palms resting on the mattress as he observed you.

“I like it when you get all dolled up for me.” One of his knuckles moved to graze your bare forearm, the hair on your skin rising from the goosebumps that followed. “Hate that everyone else gets to look, though.”

“You did good tonight. Didn’t claw anybody in the ribs.” You were only half joking, but you knew it wasn’t such a farfetched idea for him to do just that. All it took was one guy to come too close, and Logan’s knuckles were splitting to unsheath the blades embedded between them.

“Trust me, I was thinking it.”

“I know you were. Still happy you didn’t, so thank you for that.” You held his cheek and tenderly kissed him. “Now take my clothes off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Logan tugged your mini skirt down your legs, tossing it to the floor. Your top was next, lifting your arms so he could pull it up from your torso, leaving your top half bare. He leaned back to take you in, raking his eyes over your uncovered figure. You were only clad in the lace black thong he noticed earlier when you were getting dressed, the thin piece of fabric doing nothing to conceal what he knew lay underneath.

“You’re staring again.” Your voice brought him to reality, a dry hum being his response.

“You don’t usually complain when I do,” he noted, growing more cocky at the uptick of the subdued tension between you.

“Because I like it when you look at me, smartass.” You held him by the fabric of the white tee hiding under his jacket, hands roaming over the expanse of his chest and stomach, messing with the metal of his belt buckle.

“Seems like you want something…” Logan hungrily watched as your legs spread wider to accommodate for his thicker ones between them, lingering to pounce on you.

“Want you to fuck me.” A rich groan tumbled out of Logan when you yanked him down for a kiss, chasing his tongue with your own and biting his bottom lip. His large hands skate over your thighs, textured fingers pinching your hip to keep you in place. Pulling his head away, he exhaled out of his nose, lightly grazing the tip of it against yours.

“Not until we shower. You smell like Wade and tequila.” He walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, messing with the knobs to get the searing temperature you liked and coming to capture your dumbfounded expression.

“Are you fucking serious?” You shouldn’t be surprised. Though you think he was just finding more ways to get you to sober up.

“Very. I don’t need you smelling like him in bed. I want you to smell like you.”

Rising to your feet, you entered the bathroom and bent down to peel your thong off. Holding the last piece of clothing by the tip of your finger, you flung it to Logan, swaying your hips with an added flare as you stepped under the showerhead. The steaming water hit your aching body, comforting your sore legs from standing on an arch for so long. 

You heard shuffling from the other side of the glass barrier, enjoying the feel of the scalding spray as burly arms encircled your midriff, holding you loosely by the waist. Turning to face Logan, he eyed you with a softness reserved only when you were alone, your love worming its way into his cold heart and chipping away at the frozen bits and pieces over time.

“I’m surprised you haven’t melted yet from how hot this water is,” Logan jested, pressing yourself closer and gliding your fingers over his torso.

“You’ll get used to it,” you brushed his comment off, his rough fingertips coasting down your back, much softer than how he handled you in the club. “You’re the one that likes showering with me anyway.”

“Course I do, but I’ll never know how you tolerate this. You sure you aren’t the mutant here?” You lightly slapped his sternum, petting his skin with a shake of your head.

Logan maintained the scorching temperature of the shower stream as he held your chin with his forefinger and thumb, bending forward to kiss you, slow and passionate as it always was. You reached for his broad shoulders, opening your mouth to welcome his tongue, the muscle curling around yours with ease.

Maneuvering to pin you to the tiled wall, your hands ran up to the nape of his neck, driving your fingers through his wet hair as you sought more of his touch. Logan parted from you, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and neck, biting at the skin. Your breathing grew more sporadic, desire surging through you and flourishing between your thighs.

“Logan, please,” you were already begging for more, and he hadn’t done anything prevalent yet. Even with the alcohol slowly ebbing away, your arousal intensified, and a desperate craving for his attention overwhelmed you.

“What do you need? Tell me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his tongue rolling down to your clavicle, sucking a mark into the side of your neck for you to uncover in the morning.

“Need you to touch me.” Unabashedly, you took one of his hands by the wrist, spreading your thighs to position it where you needed him most. His fingers quickly found your pussy, drenched and crying out for his touch. The tips of his pointer and middle fingers drifted up to your sensitive nub, twitching under the initial rubs he delivered.

“Yeah? Need me to make you feel good, sugar?” Logan’s ego continued to ascend as he observed the expressions on your face, your eyebrows furrowing when his digits plunged into your aching hole.

“Been like this for a while, hm?” The smooth timbre of his voice spurred you on, directing his free hand to hold the bottom of your thigh, raising it to his hip and keeping it in place.

“Since you kissed me in the club.” Your confession fell over his lips, nails digging into his shoulder blades, leaving crescent indents in their wake. “Wanted you to fuck me in the bathroom.”

A deep moan rumbled in Logan’s chest at your words, crooking his fingers into that spot tucked at the roof of your entrance. You whined loudly at the touch, tossing your head back against the tile behind you and clenching hard around his thick digits.

“Next time. All you gotta do is bring me there, and I’ll fuck you over the sink.”

You couldn’t help but envision what it would be like to follow through on Logan’s proposal. How he’d pursue the imprint of your natural scent, mixing in with the aroma of your perfume that emanated off of you in waves. His lips would make a path over your shoulder and neck, leaving teeth marks for the club members to see after he was done with you. His fingers would wrap around your throat as he fucked you against the counter of the bathroom sink, forcing you to look at your reflection as you took him from behind.

Mascara streaked down your cheeks in dark smudges, your lip gloss fading and leaving a ring on the base of his cock from when you sucked him off, his cum dribbling down your thighs while he grabs your torn underwear and stuffs them into his pocket. And once you’ve both had your fun, you’d take his hand and stroll out of the bathroom with a smile, proudly flaunting Logan’s claim for everyone to acknowledge who you belonged to.

He was focused on the dives of his fingers inside your cunt, concentrated pulses to your g-spot and sneakily adding his thumb to the mix to press into your clit. Your half-lidded eyes glanced at him, the tell-tale signs of your upcoming orgasm creeping up and building in your gut. Logan could sense it too, the increase in your heart rate and the pulsing of your walls signaled that you were getting close, desperately seeking that release he could give you.

“I know you’re close.” He picked up the pace of his fingers, punctuating his thrusts to work in a third digit to stretch you out properly, the circles on your bundle of nerves becoming relentless. “Come for me, darlin’. C’mon, let me feel it.”

Trained like a dog to obey his command, your climax hit you with force, the strained rope of tension snapping and shooting relief up your spine. Gripping at the nape of his neck, the moan you emitted resounded through the bathroom as your thighs quivered from Logan’s ministrations. The slick walls of your pussy convulsed around him, giving you a few more pumps with his fingers before he took them out, watching in a daze as he licked them to taste your slick with a satisfied grumble.

“Always taste so damn sweet,” Logan remarked, letting you taste yourself on his tongue with another kiss. The hard length of his cock twitched over your lower belly, the ache of being empty overwhelming your senses.

“You can take a little more right, princess?” It was a genuine question, analyzing your energy levels after a long night out. But you craved to feel Logan the best way you knew how, nodding your head at the thought of feeling him deep inside where he belonged.

“Want you, please,” you implored, large hands grabbing the underside of your thighs to lift you from the ground, Logan’s strong hold keeping you upright on the wall. The tip of his cock bumped against your opening, your arms wrapping around his neck as he positioned himself.

“Hold on to me.” You did as he said, mewling in pleasure as he sank into your waiting cunt.

You welcomed him without resistance, his legs and forearms flexing to hold you up as he drove his hips forward until he was down to the hilt. A whimper wormed its way out of your mouth once Logan was tucked snug inside you, the tip of him hitting depths only he could reach. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feel of him, legs wound tighter as you adjusted to him.

“That’s it. Exactly where I’m supposed to be,” Logan confirmed with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing you in. He concentrated on the way your wet heat enveloped him so well, pussy molded to take him like that was your purpose.

Leaning more into your embrace, he began to move, shifting his hips to dive into you just the way you liked. Deep and even thrusts sent you reeling into ecstasy, your toes coiling as he persisted in his consistent pistoning.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cried out at his movements, the upright position Logan had you in propelled the tip of his cock to hit the roof of your entrance with rehearsed accuracy. Your clit came in contact with the hair at the base of his length, the delicious friction adding to the amplified sensations.

“Feel so good. Fucking warm and wet. Shit.” He rambled against your throat, both of his big hands cupping your ass and keeping you secure as he fucked up into you.

Logan used his strength to bounce you on top of him in time with his jabs, heavy balls smacking into you as he picked up the pace and chased his release. You tightened again, nails biting into the taut skin of his shoulders and raking down, drawing a noisy groan out of the man from the pain. His skin reddened with the streaks you left behind, mending together as his regenerative powers healed him in seconds, removing any evidence of your marks.

“Logan, need it, need you. Please.” He understood what you were asking for, the pounding of his hips getting sloppier on your instruction. “Want you to fill me up…”

“Cum again for me and I will. Fill your pussy up the way you need.”

He wasn’t asking. Your deft fingers went up to his hair and gave him a harsh yank, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, meshing your mouth with his. Logan panted a breath and followed with a hiss at the slight ache, the urge to fill you up awakening the most primal parts of him.

Your climax washed over you abruptly, mouth positioned in a silent scream as you unravel underneath Logan. He whispered words of praise in your ear, prolonging your orgasm for as long as he could. Your walls flexed and spasmed around him, soft cries morphing into helpless whimpers with every fierce buck of his wide hips. Molten pleasure surged down his back, and his hands sought purchase on your body, squeezing hard enough to bruise. 

“Fuck,” Logan rasped into your skin, stifling his growl with a sharp bite to your neck. The blunt ends of his teeth dug into you, hard enough to tear at your flesh that bloomed into bright red and will fade to purple.

With a few more lunges, he burrowed himself deep inside, painting your walls with his spend and claiming you like he always has. Your legs tensed around his abdomen, making sure to keep him safely tucked and not let a single drop go to waste. You slumped against him, head lolling forward to rest on his shoulder as he littered soft kisses over the marks he left behind in a muted apology. 

“Better now?” he asked, carefully bringing you to stand on the ground, keeping his hold on your hips in case your wobbly legs gave out.

“Mhm. Much better.” You nodded, offering him a kiss and enjoying the aftermath of your respective highs. The carnal appetite you felt earlier dimmed down to manageable levels now that you got what you wanted.

“Good,” Logan reciprocated your delicate kisses, doing what he could to calm and prep you for bed. He knows you could theoretically go for another round, but your exhaustion was palpable. He’d have to make up for it in the morning.

He took your loofah and body wash, pouring the liquid over the net fabric and scrubbing at your figure. He washed you meticulously, rinsing off the suds, and you returned the favor by cleansing him too. Your scents interlaced together as you washed each other, a smile sneaking up on Logan’s face at the realization.

After the shower, Logan did the honors of drying you off, rubbing you down with lotion, and grabbing a baggy dark T-shirt to dress you in. You brushed your teeth as he searched for his sweatpants, alternating between using the sink until you were both ready to end your night.

You eased into the mattress first, tugging the duvet to the side for Logan to follow you and lay on his back. Instinctively, you cuddled into his side once he made room for you, throwing an arm across his chest and lifting your leg to bend comfortably over his thigh.

“You’re gonna make me breakfast, right?” you questioned sleepily over his shoulder, familiar with the post-coitus routine he established in your relationship. In a few hours, you’ll find him making pancakes in the kitchen, or he’ll be under the sheets between your legs again. Either way, it’ll be a good start to your day so long as he’s the first thing you see when the sun beams through the bedroom window.

“I’ll think about it.” Jabbing at his ribs in mock retaliation, you closed your eyes and listened to the distant sounds of the city filling the room, soothing you to sleep.

“Love you, baby. “ You’ll doze off before you hear his reply, nuzzling into his body and chasing the stability and comfort of your personal weighted blanket and heater.

He waited until your breathing evened out and your heart rate leveled, beating on par with his. Giving you a side glance, you were fast asleep, embracing Logan like a teddy bear. Pressing one final kiss to your forehead, he watched you sleep for a while longer, stroking your backbone and holding you close.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

[lovecandyxx]

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

[lostinlovingrevery]

Old man Logan where reader asks for permission for everything she does “can I touch myself?” While giving him head, for example

Permissions

Old man Logan X F! Reader

May I?

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long! so I hope you enjoy this!!!!! Def need old man logan being the boss of me...like. bad

Warning: SMUT <3, handjob/blowjob, f! masturbation, is this consider dom/sub? kinda orgasm denial/edging, uuuuh...not proofread....

He never had control over his life.

The beginning, to now. He was hurtling through chaos. Trapped in a vicious tornado that was life, barely able to grasp onto something long enough to keep him steady before the harsh winds pulled it away leaving him thrashing and fighting again.

After a century, he learned to live with it. Even grew to love the chaos at one point- he felt that he couldn't live without it, that it was meant for someone like him.

Even the points of his life where he may have appeared domestic, settled, hell- maybe living in something that was similar to peace; like with the X-men, was still a whirlwind for him. Every day was something new. Never a moment to breathe, a constant cycle of violence- but once again, he knew how to live with it. Never calling it quits, never waving that white flag, he pushes himself off the ground, spitting out blood and pus. That all you got, bub?

Now though, maybe he'd settle for a break.

His age was finally catching up to him, and then some.

It only meant more chaos. The adamantium that was melded to his bones, oh....40,50 years ago, was now wreaking havoc on his body. Causing him issues left and right, delayed healing factor, an annoying limp in his hip from when it rains- fuck he really was old- a hacking cough that made him feel like he was going to lose a lung.

It made him tired. Made him ready to throw in the towel.

Least, till you showed up.

The port in the storm. The first time he ever stopped- and took in the moment to breathe- to pause the cycle.

Sweet, pretty, eager thing you were. You looked at him like something desirable. Like he was the port in your storm. You looked up to him, trusted him.

You wanted nothing more than to please him.

He liked seeing you on your knees before him. The way you squirmed in subtle manners, pressing your thighs together, your hands clenching in frustration.

He could smell your arousal the second he walked in the door - you'd been eager for him to come home. Greeting him happily, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips- only for him to draw it out and make you more needy; then pull away as he walks over to the couch and plopping down with a dramatic sigh as the springs creaked from his weight. Acting as if you weren't standing there, full of hormones, the sweet scent of your longing for him filling the room and making his head cloudy.

It'd been a long day, no more different than every day though. Chauffeuring around assholes, parties and groups, all too drunk to even walk straight, too drunk to give decent tips either. Chaotic bunches. People he can't get to settle down as they yell and laugh, blaring music on their phones because he refuses to turn up the radio.

It's instinct for you at this point. You knew what he needed- to feel just even a grasp of control. It's what you needed too. Similar to Logan- you've lived a life of chaos, maybe not quite as...intense as Logan's was, but still there. Except for you, you wanted someone to take the reins. Someone to just...Take control. To feel like you'll be safe, taken care of- not having to worry about a thing. To be able to shut off your brain.

You liked giving in- letting him decide what to do. He gets his control, you get your comfort.

You followed him, while he pretended to be busy with getting comfortable- looking at him pleadingly. It's been a long day for you as well- and you wanted nothing more than to just...mindlessly suck him off.

"Lo?" You called his name and he finally looked at you. Biting your bottom lip, you scooted closer. "How was your day?"

"Usual." He says, eyeing you. "Yours, darling?" He reached over, tucking some hair behind your ear.

"Okay." You shrugged. Butterflies filled your stomach- even though you've been with Logan for a good amount of time now- he still makes you nervous. "Um..." You looked away shyly. "May I..." Your hand reached over to his thigh, fingers gently tracing downwards towards his zipper. "Play with you, for a bit?"

He smirked. "Well, ain't you polite?" He coos. He grabbed your hand, removing off him. "Don't recall you asking to touch first, though."

You frowned, a small pout on your lips.

"Don't give me that." He says.

"Sorry..."

He raised a brow and waited for you to continue. You looked back up at him. "May I touch you?"

"On your knees first darling."

You smiled, setting off the couch and moving to your knees between this spread legs. You looked up at him- giving him those doe- eyes you know he can't resist.

You waited for him to give you permission.

"Go on." He nods. "Take me out."

Your hands palmed his knees first, sliding up his thighs sensually until you reached his zipper. Slowly tugging it down, and undoing the button, you began to tug his pants down just enough to reach in and pull him out.

Only semi-erect, you spit in your hand, and grasped his base and looked up at him.

"Go ahead." He nods.

You started slow, beginning to pump your hand up and down his thick girth. Your spit being used as a lube- you watched his cock twitch in your hand as you reached to the base, before moving back up and fisting over his swollen head.

You felt your mouth watering as pre-cum beaded his tip. Your lips parted, unconsciously licking your lips as you became hypnotized with his cock as you stroked him.

He watched you with amusement- he loved watching you. The way you look at him like he's something...beautiful. He never thought he'd meet someone that would share that same passion he always wanted to share.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He could feel your desire, your lust- he knew what you were going to say.

"May I taste you?"

He let out a breath. "Go ahead sugar."

With his permission, you leaned forward- sticking your tongue out and dipping it into the slit of his cock. His heady taste, salty and warm- made your eyes roll back and a soft moan escape you. You gripped the base of him, lowering your tongue down and licking him from the bottom to the top like an ice cream cone.

His cock jumped in your hand at the action. You could hear his breathing pick up- heavy, attempting to keep himself together.

You continued licking him like he was a delicate treat, savoring the flavor of his skin and sweat as you stroked him simultaneously. Logan's head tipped back, feeling himself get closer and closer to a finish- but he wasn't ready for that yet.

"Slow down. It's not going anywhere." He tells you. It made you whine- You didn't want to slow down, you wanted to take him whole, down your throat, to have your tongue covered with his essence- something you would end up tasting for the rest of the night into the next day.

Yet you still obeyed. Your hand slowed, and you gave him small kitten licks instead.

Your thighs pressed together, an attempt to relieve the ache that was between your legs. Your panties were drenched from your arousal- a throbbing ache in your clit that you need relief from.

You adjusted yourself on your knees, spreading them apart so you could pressed yourself onto the floor- the pressure relieving some of the tension you felt down there.

Continuing to stroke him, you watched pre-cum continuously bead out of him, and you chewed on your inner cheek- resisting the urge to lap him up.

"Lo-" Your voice tittered on a whine. "I want- Can I suck you off?"

A small laugh escaped him- making you frown. You're not sure what's so funny about that.

"I look that good huh sweetheart?"

"Mmhm." You nodded.

"Go ahead." He purrs, his hand reached over to curl into your hair and pull you closer.

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around him. Taking him deeper, you hollowed your cheeks, gagging slowly as he began to hit your throat- but you didn't stop.

Your tongue caressed the underside of his cock while your lips were flushed against his base and his salt-and-pepper hair that curled around his base tickled your nose.

A grunt escaped him, feeling you gag as your throat closed around the head of his cock- his hand tugged you back, pulling you off him completely until your mouth as hanging open, a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock.

"Fucking beautiful..." He mutters, before pulling you back down on him. You moaned, your eyes rolled back as you bobbed your head up and down his length, his hand that has ahold of you setting the pace.

You were unconsciously grinding against the floor- desperate for relief as you got him him. You took him down your throat again, choking on him and tears began to spill over your eyes from the pressure. You pulled yourself off of him and looking up at him pleadingly.

"Can I touch myself?" You asked breathlessly. Spit dribbling down your chin, your lips puffy and swollen.

He was half tempted to tell you no. To see you whine and squirm and beg- but you've been good.

"Do it baby." He says, his hand curling tighter into your hair. "Touch yourself for me."

You took his cock back into your mouth- as your hand climbed underneath the waist of your pants. Your fingers found your swollen clit- a soft whine escaping you as your fingers swirled fast and rough circles into your bud.

As much as he preferred to get you off himself- watching you do it while sucking him off? That was a different kind of power for him.

"Slow down." He orders. "Don't need to get yourself off so quickly darling. Enjoy it."

You whined with his cock in your mouth, and he tugged your hair hard. "Save it, or I'm telling you to stop."

You held back a cry- obliging as you slowed the pacing of your fingers, still working on sucking and savoring him.

A few minutes past- your orgasm never came- because Logan kept telling you to go faster, then slower- while controlling the pace of you sucking him off. It was almost scary how he knew how close you were to cumming every time- even when you tried to hide it. Afraid to ask him only to be denied again.

"Lo- Please." You gasped as you pulled off his cock. "May I cum? Please?"

He smirked, pushing you back down on him, all the way until his tip hit your throat again - your gag reflex was gone at this point.

"Go ahead darling-" He says, "Use both hands too."

A moan of relief escaped you. Your fingers worked tirelessly over your clit, as your free hand shoved your pants down your thighs so you could fit your other hand to your weeping hole.

Your cunt clenched around your fingers tight, as you began pumping them in and out of you. Moaning over his cock- Logans grip on you pulled you back and forth on his cock- allowing you to focus on getting yourself off while he fucked your mouth.

A cry escaped you as you came, your body trembling as you drenched your fingers with your arousal- pleasure racking through your body in waves.

Logan shoved his cock down your throat- a loud grunt escaping him as he spilled himself in ropes and coating your throat.

He pulled you off him, loud breathy pants escaping him as he tipped his head back. You stood up on shaky legs, and clambered onto his lap.

"Can I kiss you?" You asks, and he opened his eyes to look at you. Sweaty, spit and cum covered your lips and tears stained your cheeks. His hand reached to the back of your neck, pulling you closer,

"That's the one thing you don't have to ask for darling."

[rosenclaws]

Suffering || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You've been taken by an enemy mutant group and Logan is going nuts. He's the first to jump to action when the team thinks they've got a lead. But something isn't write and only Logan seems to know it.

warnings: (I tried to make this as gn as possible but lmk if I can make it better ty) angst, kidnapping, injuries, violence, implied torture , hurt/comfort, self doubting Logan, anger issues Logan, logan stabs someone oops. Happy ending

wc: 3.5k

a/n: I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING GUYS. Okay so this is loosely based on the song Suffering from Epic The Musical. I say loosely bc it's really loose lmao. But I'm happy to finally have something out for you guys to read and it's my favorite (hurt and angst hehe) I really hope you guys enjoy! btw the readers powers are based on the Mutant Elixir

It had been 48 Hours since you had been taken and everyone was on edge. But no one was worse off than Logan. He was a complete wreck and taking it out on everyone else. He hasn't eaten or slept since. Just replaying that stupid mission over and over in his head. He swirls the half melted ice in his empty cup around as he closes his eyes.

"Logan!" You cried out as the dragged you away from him.

He roars as he tries to fight the magnetic field that was pulling him away from you. He could feel his muscles ripping apart and knitting together as he tried and tried.

"Look out!" His eyes going wide as they jammed a needle right into your neck.

Your hand that was reaching for him falls limply to your side as you hit the ground hard. They take you away, ignoring Logan's threats as he screams and roars. By the time the team responds to his SOS signal it's too late.

You're long gone.

This whole damn thing had been a trap. You were too great to ignore. Unimaginable power at your fingertips. The power to manipulate biological material. Meaning that you could heal the sick, kill someone with a single touch, you could even raise the dead. But you never wanted your powers to be used for anything but good. So you heal.

You're the school nurse essentially and you love every moment of it. Helping kids who get hurt and healing the team when they come back from missions. You don't dare tap into the darker side of your powers. In fact you're rarely on the field to do so. But only on rare occasions do you join the team. It's how the lured you out. They knew you couldn't resist coming if there was a group of children in need of your help.

It was just you and Logan. The intel they had received told them that there was an abandoned mutant testing site with test subjects trapped in the building who needed immediate care. So it was just the two of you. It all happened so fast.

The moment you two walked in the building Logan knew something was wrong. He tried to act but they were quicker. They were a group of mutants who wanted more power. They wanted to take over the world and use you to do it.

The ride back was quiet as Logan seethed with rage. No one dared speak to him and as soon as they landed he made a beeline right to Charles. Slamming his hands on the his desk and demanding to know where the hell he got that information. Because he was going to tear them limb from limb.

It took hours for him to calm down enough to talk about what happened and now he's stuck waiting for something. Anything.

"If you keep squeezing that glass you're going to break it. Again."

Ororo calm voice makes him clench his jaw. He places the glass down before glancing up at her. She sighs before sitting in a chair across from him.

"We're going to find them Logan."

"And what if we don't? What if we're too late?!" He bites back.

His voice is filled with anger. Ororo doesn't flinch as Logan takes the glass and throws it against the wall. It shatters into a million tiny pieces as his chest heaves.

"Have you told them?" Logan's eyes widen as he bares his teeth.

"Told them what?"

"That you're in love with them." Ororo says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. To anyone who wasn't you or Logan it was.

"The fuck are you talking about?" He says lowly, almost like a growl. She sighs as she gets up and rests a hand on his shoulder. The defenses he puts around his heart are clear to anyone. Especially Ororo.

"Logan, it's okay to let yourself feel sometimes. You don't always have to be the heartless one." She hums as the tension slowly leaves his body.

"What good has having a heart gotten me huh? I've got a trail of bodies 'Ro and now..." He closes his eyes as he sinks back into the chair. A tired look on his face.

"Now it's lookin' like they're gonna be one of them." He mumbles.

Logan's feelings are complicated. They always have been. He hides them away, locks them with a key and tosses that key into the fucking ocean. Logan knows what he is. He's never thought for once he's anything but a killer. The blood on his hands could never be washed away. To him, it doesn't matter how man people he's saved. To save those people required bloodshed. Whether it's justified is up in the air. He's a beast. An animal. And you...you're everything he's not.

You have power one could only dream of. Temptation haunts you every single day knowing what you could do if with the snap of your fingers. Yet you choose good every single time. You choose to be kind and use your omega level powers to cure a kids headache or patch them up and give them a damn lollipop on the way out. Whether or not he loves you, whether you feel the same way. It doesn't matter.

He won't taint your beauty with his mess.

This just proves everything he's been telling himself. He's not good enough for you. He can't protect you. You called for him. You sounded so fucking scared and they took you while he watched. He can't handle another body on his hands.

Especially not yours.

Ororo sees the conflict brewing in him and it pains her to see her friend in such distress. She kneels down near his chair and leans in close.

"Scott doesn't want me telling you this, but we think we have a lead. We aren't sure but we think we know where they're holding them." Logan shoots out of the chair.

"Tell me. Now."

It takes Logan all of 10 minutes to barge into Charles' office, demand to leave, and tell Scott to fuck off when he tried to stop him. He was suited up and in the jet by the time the rest of the team even caught up to him.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go." He buckles himself in the chair, ignoring the looks his friends give each other as they slowly follow him onto the jet.

They know there's a chance this is another trap or a dead end but no one has the heart to tell Logan no. He's too determined. If they say no he'll just run off by himself. Logan doesn't listen to the plan. He has a fucking plan. It's find you. He doesn't need anything else.

He's out of the jet when it lands. His sense can pick up a few strangers and he barely listens to the comms as he barrels his way into the warehouse. It's always some abandoned warehouse isn't it Logan thinks as he slams a guard to the ground. But something catches his attention. Your scent. He can smell you. You're here. Logan moves as quietly as he can through the dark halls. It's quiet. Too quiet.

"L-Logan?" He spins around and sees you limping your way into his view. Your lip is busted and you're covered in bruises and blood. He hurries over to you and grabs your face in his hands, checking over your injuries.

"Oh Logan thank goodness you're here. I could barely fight them off." You bury your face in his chest as he pulls you in for a hug. Logan wraps his arms around you but something feels...wrong.

You smell off. Like there's a faint smell of you. The warm vanilla and cherries he always smells when he's around you. But it's not on you. It's like someone took a perfume bottle and sprayed themselves with you. Underneath is a vile smell. Acidic.

But Logan doesn't let his face shift, he stays calm. Not wanting to alert something might be wrong.

"Yeah Darling what happened?" Logan lets go of you and you grab his hand and try leading him towards the exit.

"It's a long story but we really need to go." You tug on his hand but he doesn't budge.

"Were there others where they held you?" He ask and you look at him weirdly.

"Um, I don't know? Maybe?" You question before something seems to shift in your face.

Strike 1

"Logan I'm scared they might come back." Your voice changes into one of fear at the drop of a hat.

"Hey I won't let them take you again, but I have to see if there are others. What can you tell me about what's down there?" He says calmly, his hands resting on your arms. You stay quiet and Logan pushes again.

"Can you lead me down there darling?"

"I...I guess so." There's a cracking on the intercom and Scott's voice comes through.

"Did you find her?" He asks and he sees your ears perk up.

"Is that Cyclops?" Cyclops? The last time you called Scott Cyclops was years ago.

Strike 2

"Yeah, it is." He says flatly. Pressing his ear to the comms he lets the team know he's found you.

"I got them, but we're going to check out the whole place to make sure no one else is here." He places a hand on your back and tells you to lead the way.

As you walk in front of him he starts to buzz the comm. Every time he presses the button it creates this annoying noise.

Beep. Beep. Beeeep. Beep.

Beep. Beeeep.

Beeeep. Beep. Beeeep.

Beep.

F-A-K-E

Back on the jet Scott freezes, he looks to the rest of the team and silently tells them to surround the building.

"Which way did you come from?" He asks as you walk through these dark hallways.

"This way, or maybe this way. I don't know it was all such a blur." You whine.

"Can we please go back to the mansion? I might be able to remember more after a good nights sleep." You ask but Logan keeps pushing you.

"I promise after this we'll get back to the mansion." He says gently.

You sigh but continue on. Logan notices the same scratches on the wall. A pool of grease keeps popping up in the corner. You're leading him in circles. He does notice your eyes keep darting to the left. Every time you pass a certain hallway. You look to the left. It appears to be an empty wall but Logan has a feeling it's more than that.

"I'm sorry Logan, I don't know where I'm going." You cry as you stop in the middle of the hall.

"It's alright darling, I just have one more question." He hums as he slowly backs you up against the wall. You look up at him with those sweet eyes and Logan smiles. He leans in close and suddenly his grip grows tight.

"Where the fuck are you keeping them?" He growls. His façade breaks. He's sick and tired of this game.

"What are you talking about Logan. I'm right here." Your imposter squirms against his grip but he slams them against the wall harshly.

"Come on bub, you think I'm an idiot. You think wearing their clothes and putting on their face is enough to fool me?" He chuckles darkly as his claws unsheathe. He brings the tips of his claws to their throat.

"I know that face bub, which means I know what it looks like when you lie. So I'll give you one fucking chance. Where. Are. They?"

"Okay okay!" Logan keeps his claws right where they are as the imposter shows their real face.

It's a someone apart of that damn rouge mutant group. He's seen their picture once or twice but didn't know their mutation was this.

"I don't know where they are!" They cry as Logan digs the tips of his claws into their arm.

"I swear!" Logan notices their eyes dart back to that same wall.

"Strike 3 darling." He spits as he digs his claws into their stomach.

He lets them drop to the floor. The rest of the team can handle that. He walks over to the wall and starts knocking on the wall. It's solid all the way through, until he hits in one spot.

He looks closer and sees peeling wallpaper. He takes his claws and slashes the wallpaper to shreds, revealing a door that has the doorknob taken off. With all his might he slams his shoulder against it over and over until he breaks down.

"Logan?" He around until he sees you in the corner of the room. Chained to the wall. You look tired, bloody, and have bruises on your face.

"Oh sweetheart," He runs to you. Kneeling down and caressing your face softly as he checks your injuries.

"Can't..use my powers. They wanted me to do horrible things but I said no." Your breath is labored as you try and explain yourself but Logan shushes you gently.

"You did so well." He coos as he reaches up and pulls the chains out of the wall. Then breaks them off your wrists. They're raw and red. Probably from rope. You're so weak and you practically fall right into his arms.

"I'm so fucking sorry." He chokes out as he pulls you close.

"Hey, don't cry for me old man." You tease tiredly. You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. Logan presses his forehead against yours. It's you. It's 100% you. He breathes in and smells Vanilla and Cherries.

"I let you down, I couldn't protect you." He grabs your face and pulls it closer to his. His lips part slightly as he squeezes his eyes shut.

"I thought I lost you and I never got to tell you how I feel. That I..." He trails off with a whisper.

His eyes shine with tears but he doesn't let them fall. You shush him gently. Seeing this side of Logan is rare and you hate to see the pain in his eyes. Something tells you this isn't the first time Logan has lost someone close.

"Hey, you saved me Logan. You did. You knew it was a fake." You hum and he just shrugs. He doesn't ever care to see his own success. He just brushes off his good deeds in favor of focusing on everything he's done wrong and it hurts to see.

"It was obvious really, didn't even smell like you."

"How often do you smell me?" You ask and Logan's eyes widen.

"I'm just teasing," You place your hands on his cheeks and smile.

You could cry. You knew he'd come but a part of you was so damn scared. Terrified what these people might do to you. But you don't want Logan to know. He already blames himself enough. He came like a knight in shining armor and found you.

"I love you Logan, you don't have to say it back but-" He cuts you off with a fierce kiss. Smashing his lips to yours in a messy, desperate fashion.

"I fucking love you." He groans as he tilts your head up to kiss you deeper. The kiss feels like a touch of heaven. You don't want it to end but you can feel your body start to give out on you. You refused to sleep, to let your guard down while you were here. So once you're in the arms of Logan everything just gives out.

"Hey, wait stay with me sweetheart." Logan says in a panicked voice as you fall into his arms.

"I'm okay, promise. Just need to rest." You hum. Resting your head against his chest you fall asleep, feeling completely safe in his arms.

Logan presses a kiss to your forehead as he carries you out of the room. He tenses when he sees a trail of blood towards the door. Though when he steps out into the main building he sees the team standing tall among the rouge group.

This was planned to be a trap, to take the fake back home to be a spy. But once Logan figured it out they signaled to the rest of them. Unfortunately the team was there before they could try anything. He nods silently to Scott and he leaves to go back to the jet, letting them clean up the mess.

He sits you comfortably in his lap and drapes a blanket over your body. You stir and Logan freezes, not daring to move a muscle until you go back to sleep. It's not long before the team shows back up. Logan hasn't felt this sense of relief in years. He leans against the chair with his eyes closed.

"Hey Logan, that was really smart of you to signal us that way." Jean says, impressed with Logan's quick thinking.

"Thanks Red, I knew Boy scout over here would know Morse code." Logan gestures to Scott who only looks slightly offended this time.

"Yeah but how did you know Morse code?" She asks and Logan shrugs.

"I'm 170 years old. You learn to pick up on a few things." He says with a deadpan look on his face. She smiles and Logan's lips turn into a smirk.

When they land back at the mansion Logan ignores the team debrief, he'll tell them later. He carries you to his bed and tucks you in, choosing to sit and wait for you to wake up. He dozes off for a while, only waking when he hears your voice.

When he opens his eyes he sees you waking up. Groaning as you clutch your head. Slowly your injuries start to disappear, your powers are working again. It doesn't take long for you to rid yourself of the bruises and the headache. But the dried blood stays. Silently Logan goes over to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel.

"You don't have to." You mumble but Logan shoots you a sweet "shut up I'm doing this" look. So you let him. He takes his time cleaning you up until there's no trace of it left.

"How did you know it wasn't me? I mean other than the smell." You ask, the question you're dying to know. You think you'd be able to pick out a Logan doppelganger but not with the certainty he had.

"Like I said, it was obvious sweetheart. I asked to look for others and they didn't want to." He sits on the bed and tilts your head up to make sure he's gotten all the blood off.

"The you I know would have told me to leave you and help anyone else who might have been down there." He kisses your cheek and you feel your heart flutter.

"Plus you're a terrible liar. Your face gives it away every time." He teases and you scoff.

"I'm not that bad." Logan gives you a look and you just huff.

"Okay fine maybe I'm bad. But you really noticed all that?"

"Of course I did, I notice a lot about you. I know you sweetheart." You lean over and kiss him again.

He can see in your eyes that you're not okay. Most people wouldn't after an experience like that. But you put that brave face on and it kills him just a little. You shouldn't have to do that for him. You never should have been in that position in the first place.

"I'm sorry for ever letting them take you." He whispers.

"It's not your fault Logan." You're so forgiving in nature it makes his head spin sometimes. He should have had your back, he couldn't help you. They hurt you. He can feel himself getting riled up just at the thought.

"Easy Logan, it's over. I'm saved, I'm right here." You place his hand on your heart and he sighs. Logan hears Charles voice in his head and you can see the annoyance written on his face.

"The team is calling a meeting, we never get a days rest do we?" You shake your head as you stand up. Your energy back as your powers seemed to have rejuvenate you.

"No, we never do. But maybe tonight we can get dinner." You offer and Logan locks his fingers with yours.

Squeezing your hand tight as he opens the door, letting you walk in front of him. He won't let you out of his sight for a long time. Not after all that happened. He makes a silently promise to you. He'll be better. Stronger, faster, smarter. You deserve the world and Logan will carry it on his shoulders just for you.

"Are you asking me on a date?" He teases and you nod shyly, his flirty nature can turn you into a mess in an instant.

For a moment both of you drop the act. The fear comes creeping back into your brain and Logan feels the heavy weight of guilt. His eyes turning sad just for a moment. But as quick as it came it was gone.

"I love you."

"I love you too Logan."

Your healing can only go so far, physical wounds may be gone but the mental ones will be there. But Logan won't let them hurt you anymore. As long as he's there nothing can hurt you anymore.

He swears.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ girl i've always been

chapter summary: While having a relaxing, lazy morning, there is an attack on New York City being broadcast, with some familiar and unfamiliar faces.

word count: 8.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: as i said before with peter, i'm a mcu fan at heart, and i wanted to try and bring in the avengers into the x-men (plus i have an idea for a little side storyline. it'll make sense once you read!)

also, thank you for 1,500 followers! and happy easter (if you celebrate)!

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, snow fight, slight angst, the battle of new york, the avengers, protective!logan

series masterlist - chapter 11 → chapter 13

“Please?” Theresa drawled, her tiny hands clasped together, the mittens looking particularly oversized on her.

“It’s freezing, Tess.” You replied, looking out the window to the snow covered grounds.

“But Scott and Jean are coming outside too!” Theresa added.

Jones nodded, “yeah, and so is Ororo, and Rogue, Bobby, Jub—”

“Summers, huh?” Logan questioned, his arms over his chest. He turned to look at you, “whaddya say sweetheart?”

You crossed your arms, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You only want to do this because Scott is going outside to have a snowball fight with the kids, and you don’t want to look like a wimp.”

Logan scoffed, his mouth pulling into a half-grin. “Sweetheart, I ain’t worried about Summers. Kid’s got an arm like a wet noodle.”

Theresa gasped dramatically, her mittens flying to her face. “Mr. Logan, that’s not nice! Mr. Summers is teaching me how to pitch!”

“Yeah?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “How’s that workin’ out for ya?”

Theresa frowned, scrunching her nose. “I hit Bobby in the face once.”

Jones laughed. “You hit Bobby like, three times.”

“That’s ‘cause Bobby’s head’s too big to miss.” Logan quipped, earning giggles from the kids. He turned back to you, his expression softening. “What do you think? Wanna show these kids how it’s done?”

You sighed, glancing back at the window. Snow swirled outside, the grounds blanketed in white. The wind rattled the glass, making you instinctively pull your cardigan tighter. “It’s freezing out there, Logan. I’m not built for this kind of weather.”

“You sure about that? Thought you were tough,” Logan teased, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “What’s a little snow gonna do to you, darlin’?”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the familiar rush of playful irritation. “Fine. But if I get frostbite, you’re the one explaining it to Jean.”

Logan grinned, looking far too smug for your liking. “Deal.”

---

Outside, the cold hit immediately. You tugged your scarf up over your nose, trying not to shiver as you followed Logan toward the group of students. Snow crunched underfoot, the air filled with excited chatter as Scott and Jean stood off to the side, orchestrating teams.

“Alright, everyone!” Scott called out, clapping his hands. “We’re splitting into two teams. Jean and I will be captains—”

“Hold up,” Logan interrupted, his voice cutting through the noise. “What about me?”

Scott turned, his expression equal parts surprised and amused. “You? You’re joining?”

Logan shrugged, slipping off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby bench. “Someone’s gotta show these kids how to win.”

Jean rolled her eyes with a good-natured smile. “Logan, this is supposed to be fun, not a war.”

“Fun’s overrated,” Logan replied, cracking his knuckles.

You groaned, adjusting your glasses. “He’s going to take this way too seriously.”

Jean leaned closer to you, her breath visible in the freezing air. “He’s just trying to impress you.”

“By pelting kids with snowballs?”

“Exactly.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s voice boomed again. “Alright, Y/N’s on my team.”

“What?” you sputtered, looking at him incredulously. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“Too late,” Logan said, already rounding up a small group of eager-looking students. “You’re with me, sweetheart.”

Scott smirked, leaning toward Jean. “This should be good.”

---

The game quickly devolved into chaos. Logan, true to form, treated the snowball fight like a military operation. He barked orders to the kids on his team, pointing out strategic positions and even building a makeshift snow fort. You hung back, dodging the occasional snowball and trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking it.

“Y/N, cover the flank!” Logan shouted, ducking behind a tree as a snowball whizzed past his head.

“You know this isn’t an actual battle, right?” you called back, crouching behind the fort.

“Tell that to Summers!” Logan growled, launching a perfectly aimed snowball that hit Scott square in the chest.

Scott stumbled back, brushing snow off his jacket. “Really, Logan? You’re aiming for me now?”

“Always, bub.”

Jean sighed dramatically. “Men.”

The kids, meanwhile, were having the time of their lives. Theresa and Jones worked together to build an impressive stockpile of snowballs, while Bobby used his powers to create perfectly round projectiles. Rogue ducked and weaved through the chaos, laughing as she nailed Logan in the shoulder with a particularly icy snowball.

“You’re lucky I like you, kid,” Logan muttered, brushing snow off his flannel.

Meanwhile, you stayed hidden behind the fort, because a few years ago when a snowball fight happened, someone—Scott—accidentally hit you in the face. But the worst part wasn’t that, it was the fact that your glasses broke and you couldn’t see for the rest of the day.

You huddled behind the makeshift fort with Jubilee, pulling your scarf tighter as the wind bit at your cheeks. Jubilee rubbed her arms through her thick jacket, shivering beside you. “Why is this my life? I could be inside right now, drinking cocoa.”

You adjusted your glasses, peeking over the snow wall just as a snowball zipped past, missing you by inches. “I’m wondering the same thing. I didn’t sign up for this level of chaos.”

Jubilee groaned dramatically, flopping backward into the snow. “Who even decided this was a good idea? Oh wait, it was Scott. Of course.”

You smirked. “Blame Logan. He turned this into a military operation.”

“Speaking of...” Jubilee pointed to Logan, who was standing a few feet away, rallying your team of students like they were about to storm Normandy. His flannel was dusted with snow, and his eyes were locked on Scott like he was calculating his next move.

“Alright, kids!” Logan barked. “Jones, cover the left. Theresa, keep Bobby busy. Y/N, stop hiding and provide backup.”

You threw up your hands. “I am backup! From back here!”

Logan turned and gave you a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Sweetheart, what happened to teamwork?”

“Teamwork doesn’t involve me losing my glasses again,” you shot back. “I still have PTSD from last time.”

“I told you,” Logan replied, his smirk growing, “I’ll keep your glasses safe. Just stick with me.”

Jubilee snorted. “Oh sure, because he’s never broken anything in his life.”

“Hey,” Logan growled, pointing a finger at Jubilee, “don’t push it, kid.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. Logan’s unwavering confidence in this absurd snowball fight—and in dragging you into it—was annoyingly endearing. Before you could retort, a snowball hit the fort’s edge, sending bits of snow scattering onto your face.

“Y/N!” Theresa called, her red hair peeking over the fort as she ducked another projectile. “Bobby just took Rogue out! We have the advantage!”

You sighed, pushing yourself to your feet. “Alright, fine. But if anyone breaks my glasses, there’s going to be trouble.”

Logan’s grin widened as he lobbed another snowball, hitting Scott in the shoulder. “There’s my girl. Come on, darlin’, time to show Summers how it’s done.”

You stepped around the fort cautiously, scooping up some snow and packing it into a firm ball. Jubilee muttered behind you, “This is going to end in tears.”

“Probably mine,” you replied dryly.

Across the snowy battlefield, Scott and Jean were crouched behind a smaller fort. Scott’s tactical stance and determined expression were straight out of a playbook, while Jean looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“Jean, cover me!” Scott shouted, throwing a snowball that missed Logan by several feet.

Jean shook her head, smiling. “Cover you from what? You’re not even aiming.”

“Hey!” Scott protested. “I hit Logan earlier!”

“Barely,” Logan said, his tone smug. “Summers, you couldn’t hit me if you were standing two feet away.”

Scott scowled. “Alright, that’s it—”

Before he could finish, you lobbed a snowball that smacked him square in the chest. The kids on your team erupted into cheers. Scott looked down at the snowy mark on his jacket, then up at you with mock betrayal.

“What—Y/N?” he called, shaking his head.

“Sorry, Scott,” you replied, biting back a grin. “Logan made me do it.”

Logan barked a laugh, tossing an arm around your shoulder briefly before returning to the battle. “She’s finally coming around to the winning side.”

Jean leaned out from her fort, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Don’t encourage him, Y/N.”

Logan called back, “Too late! She’s all mine now.”

You rolled your eyes but felt a warmth spreading through you despite the cold. For all his bravado and bluster, there was something undeniably comforting about Logan’s presence, even in the midst of a ridiculous snowball war.

“Don’t get cocky,” you muttered, brushing snow off your sleeves.

“I’m not cocky,” Logan said, throwing another perfectly aimed snowball that hit Scott in the arm. “I’m just good.”

Jubilee groaned loudly from behind you. “Can we end this already? My fingers are icicles!”

“Not until Summers surrenders!” Logan declared, ducking another snowball and tossing one back with perfect precision.

Jean laughed, raising her hands. “Okay, truce! Before someone loses a limb or, worse, their dignity.”

Scott lowered his arm reluctantly. “Fine. Truce.”

Logan smirked, straightening up and brushing snow off his hands. “Guess we know who the real champ is.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Scott muttered.

As the snowball fight dissolved, you found yourself walking back toward the mansion with Logan at your side. He glanced down at you, his expression softer now. “Not bad out there, darlin’. You might just be my secret weapon.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “Next time, I’m staying inside.”

“Sure you are,” Logan replied, his grin warm. “You can’t resist me.”

“You’re impossible,” you said, nudging him lightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice low and amused. “But you love me anyway.”

---

You hummed along to the catchy pop tune playing softly on the kitchen radio as you stirred the stir-fry. The savory aroma of chicken, steak, and colorful veggies filled the air, the sizzling sound adding a cozy rhythm to your evening.

Footsteps approached, deliberate and heavy, and a moment later, Logan appeared beside you. He held out a glass of red wine with a casual smirk, keeping the other for himself. “Figured you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you said, pausing long enough to take it from him. You raised an eyebrow as Logan leaned slightly over your shoulder, inspecting the pan. His face was far too serious for something as mundane as dinner.

“Yes,” you deadpanned, taking a sip of the wine, “I added steak. Just for you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Smart choice, sweetheart. Can’t go wrong with steak.”

You rolled your eyes and returned your focus to the pan, the warmth from the stove a welcome contrast to the winter air outside. As you adjusted the heat, Logan stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your hips. His chest was warm against your back, and the soft pressure of his touch made you pause.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, your voice colored with amusement.

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist and started to sway, his movements slow and unhurried. You blinked, trying to stifle a laugh. “Seriously?”

“You were hummin’, so I thought I’d join in,” he said, his deep voice low near your ear.

“I was humming to a pop song, not a ballad,” you replied, though you couldn’t quite bring yourself to pull away. His embrace was too warm, too grounding.

Logan tugged you gently, nudging you away from the stove. “C’mere.”

“Logan, the food—”

“It’ll be fine. Just a minute.”

The look in his eyes left little room for argument, so you allowed him to guide you a few steps away. The music from the radio filled the quiet as Logan pulled you close. His movements were uncharacteristically tender, his calloused hands resting lightly on your lower back as he led you in what could only loosely be described as a slow dance.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You know this is a pop song, right? This doesn’t really... fit.”

“I don’t care.” Logan’s lips twitched into a faint grin, but his eyes softened. “Music’s just noise. It’s the person you’re dancin’ with that matters.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, though you hid your face by tucking your head against his shoulder. His flannel smelled faintly of pine and something uniquely him, grounding you in a way few things could. The two of you swayed in place, ignoring the incongruous beat of the music and the simmering stir-fry just a few feet away.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you murmured, “You’re in a rare mood.”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Logan said, his tone softer than usual. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “’S nice, just... bein’ here with you.”

You didn’t respond right away, letting his words settle in your chest. For all of Logan’s gruffness and his habit of turning everything into a challenge, these rare, quiet moments reminded you of how fiercely he loved. How fiercely he loved you.

Nice didn’t seem like the right word for it. It was everything.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you teased, your voice quieter now.

Logan chuckled, his breath warm against your temple. “Nah. I’m lucky you love me.”

The crackling sound of the stir-fry snapped you back to reality, and you gave him a gentle nudge. “Okay, dinner’s about to burn. Let me go.”

Logan tightened his arms briefly, a teasing glint in his eye. “One more second.”

“Logan.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he loosened his hold, letting you step back toward the stove. You stirred the pan quickly, relieved that nothing had scorched. Logan leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy grin, his wineglass dangling from his fingers.

“You’re impossible,” you said, glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” Logan agreed easily. “But you love me anyway.”

You shot him a look but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. In the background, the radio shifted to another upbeat track, the music filling the small kitchen like a promise of more moments like this. Moments where time felt like it belonged solely to the two of you.

---

Sleeping in was rare, even on the weekends. But today, as the noon sun poured through the curtains, bathing the room in soft light, you both indulged in the rare luxury. The warmth of Logan’s body beside you and the quiet of the mansion made the bed feel like the only place that mattered.

You stretched lazily, your hand brushing Logan’s chest as he gave a low, contented grunt. “Finally awake?” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

“Mm, not yet,” you replied, burying your face against his shoulder. His scent—pine, leather, and something faintly metallic—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment.

Logan chuckled softly, his hand slipping to the small of your back. ��Y’know, most people are already up by now.”

“Most people don’t get woken up at 5 a.m. by the sound of kids trying to build a trampoline out of their powers,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt.

He smirked. “Fair enough.”

The room stayed quiet for a while, the two of you enjoying the stillness. Logan’s hand moved in slow circles along your back, a soothing motion that almost lulled you back to sleep.

“You’re a lot clingier today,” you teased, looking up at him.

“Guess I am,” Logan said with a shrug, his expression unreadable. “Don’t hear you complainin’, though.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. “No. I’m not.”

A sharp knock at the door made you groan, breaking the moment. “It’s Jean!” came the muffled voice from the other side. “You two need to get to the common room right now.”

Logan frowned. “What’s the rush?”

“Just hurry! You’re going to want to see this,” Jean called back before her footsteps faded down the hall.

You sighed, reluctantly pushing yourself up. “Guess our lazy morning is over.”

“Always somethin’,” Logan muttered, rubbing a hand over his face before climbing out of bed.

You slid out as well, slipping on your glasses and grabbing your robe from the chair. Logan was already pulling on his flannel shirt and jeans, moving with his usual efficiency. Within minutes, the two of you were heading down the hall toward the common room.

The mansion was unusually quiet for midday, the muffled sound of a news broadcast growing louder as you approached the common room.

When you walked in, the screen immediately caught your attention. Footage of New York City filled the TV, with buildings crumbling and smoke rising into the sky. The words “Breaking News: Alien Invasion in Manhattan” scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

"What the hell?" Logan muttered, crossing his arms as he stared at the footage.

Jean turned to you both, her expression grim. "It started an hour ago. There’s some kind of portal above the city. They’re calling it an alien invasion."

Your heart sank as you watched the chaos unfold on the screen. Cars were overturned, people running for their lives as enormous, alien-looking creatures wreaked havoc.

The kids spoke quietly amongst themselves.

“Who’s that guy with the hammer?” Peter asked.

Jubilee leaned in, “I saw a Reddit thread sayin’ he was an alien.”

Logan let out a groan, rubbing a hand down his face as he stared at the chaotic footage on the television. "Now there are damn aliens? What’s next, giant lizards takin’ over the city?"

"Don’t jinx it," Jean muttered, arms crossed as she stood beside the couch, her gaze glued to the screen. "This is already bad enough."

Scott stood nearby, frowning deeply. "They’ve got a lot of tech. Look at the size of that portal. That’s not something we can just ignore."

"We’re not getting involved, Scott," Jean cut in sharply. Her tone was firm but calm, the way it always was when she knew she needed to be the voice of reason. "This isn’t our fight. We don’t even know what we’d be walking into."

"She’s right," Logan added, his voice gruff. He leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed. "Let the army or whoever deal with it. We’ve got enough on our plate without runnin’ into some other mess."

Bobby raised an eyebrow as he watched the screen. "That guy in the suit... isn’t that Tony Stark? The billionaire who’s always in the news?"

"Yeah," Peter said, squinting. "And isn’t that Captain America? Wait, I thought he was dead—or, like, frozen or something?"

"You mean that propaganda poster boy?" Logan’s voice had an edge, but there was something unspoken beneath it. His eyes lingered on the screen, his jaw tightening as the camera panned to a blond man throwing a shield with almost impossible precision.

Jean glanced over at Logan, her brow furrowed. "You know him?"

Logan gave a noncommittal shrug, his expression carefully neutral. "We fought together a long time ago. Doesn’t matter now."

You shifted your weight beside him, catching the way his knuckles whitened against his biceps. Gently, you placed a hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

He looked down at you, his expression softening in that way only you seemed to bring out. "I’m fine. Just didn’t expect to see his face today, is all."

Scott cleared his throat, his arms crossed. "We still need to figure out what our stance is on this. If those things—whatever they are—start spreading beyond Manhattan, we’ll have to act."

Jean shook her head. "For now, we wait. The situation’s still unfolding, and we don’t even know what’s going on up there. Jumping in blind could make things worse."

Logan smirked faintly. "For once, I agree with Red."

Jean rolled her eyes at the nickname but didn’t argue.

The footage shifted to show the so called ‘alien’—a large man with a hammer, lightning crackling around him as he brought it down on a group of the alien creatures. Peter practically jumped up from his seat. "Okay, who is that guy? Thor? Like, the Norse god?"

Jubilee leaned forward, a grin spreading across her face. "Maybe he is! Did you see the lightning? That’s insane."

"Focus, guys," you said gently, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Their excitement was contagious, even if the situation was grim.

Logan’s hand found its way to your back, a subtle, grounding gesture. "Kids can get excited all they want, but we’re stayin’ out of it," he said firmly. "End of story."

Jean nodded in agreement. "Logan’s right. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

The room quieted, the group’s attention returning to the screen. Despite the chaos unfolding in New York, the decision had been made—for now, the X-Men would stand back. It wasn’t their fight, not yet. But the tension lingered, unspoken questions hanging in the air.

You leaned into Logan’s side, your hand brushing his as you watched the screen. His thumb grazed the back of your hand, a small gesture of reassurance. Whatever was happening out there, at least for now, you were together—and for Logan, that was enough.

---

The new book you got had you in a hold. You and Jean were reading the same book, which was a rarity since you both had different tastes. But Gone Girl was intriguing and had a way of pulling you in.

And since it was a Saturday, it was the perfect day to relax and read… and possibly finish the book in one day.

You sat down at the island as Logan made breakfast for the two of you. He placed your cup of tea in front of you, the steam curling upward like a warm invitation. “It’s hot. Don’t burn yourself,” he warned with a pointed look, then turned back to the stove where a skillet sizzled with eggs and bacon.

“Thanks,” you murmured distractedly, already nose-deep in the novel you’d cracked open just moments before. You adjusted your glasses, the light from the nearby window perfectly illuminating the pages.

Logan glanced over his shoulder as he flipped the bacon, catching sight of you. “That book got somethin’ I don’t? You didn’t even notice me makin’ you tea, sweetheart.”

“Hmm?” you mumbled, vaguely aware he was talking but too caught up in the tangled mess of secrets the characters in Gone Girl were unraveling.

Logan huffed softly, half amused and half annoyed. “Never thought I’d lose to a damn book,” he muttered under his breath. His tone was light, but he watched you carefully as he slid the food onto plates.

“Eggs okay? Or do ya want somethin’ fancier, like toast?” He set your plate in front of you.

“Mmhmm,” you replied absently, still buried in the text.

Logan’s brows shot up. He leaned forward slightly, his hands braced on the counter as he smirked. “Right. Guess ‘mmhmm’ means ‘chef’s choice,’ huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you said without looking up.

Logan straightened with an exaggerated sigh and dug into his own breakfast, watching as you ate your eggs without once lifting your eyes from the book. He shook his head, almost impressed by how oblivious you were to his efforts.

---

By mid-afternoon, Logan’s patience was wearing thin. After breakfast, you’d curled up on the couch, the book balanced on your knees as you fell even deeper into its story. He’d tried everything—talking about the updates he was making to his motorcycle, asking you random questions, even joking about how the least you could do was come hold a wrench for him. Your responses were minimal at best, a distracted hum or soft “uh-huh” here and there.

Logan stood in the doorway of the living room now, hands on his hips. “So, is this what it feels like?”

“Hm?” you replied without looking up.

“When I’m tuned out ‘cause you’re ramblin’ about Schrödinger’s whatever or that theory… the one with all the dimensions.”

“String theory,” you corrected automatically, flipping a page.

He snorted. “Yeah, that one. Pretty much what I sound like when you’re talkin’, huh?”

“Mm,” you replied, not even registering the teasing lilt in his tone.

Logan turned and trudged into the hallway, muttering under his breath. “Unbelievable. Even Scott’d get more of a reaction.”

As if on cue, Scott appeared at the other end of the hall, looking just as annoyed as Logan felt. “You too?” he asked.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Scott gestured vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. “Jean. She’s been stuck in that book all day. I asked her about a briefing—nothing. Asked if she’d seen Rogue—‘hmm.’ She’s completely tuned me out.”

Logan barked a laugh. “Let me guess. Gone Girl?”

Scott stared at him for a beat. “Yeah.”

Logan shook his head knowingly. “Figures. Guess that makes me one of the gone guys.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Glad someone’s having fun.”

---

Evening rolled around, and you were finally nearing the end of the book. The story’s climax was in sight, and you barely noticed the room dimming with the setting sun. You were perched on the bed now, your back propped up against a mountain of pillows.

Logan stood in the doorway, arms folded, watching you. He had to admit, it was kind of cute how engrossed you were. But after being ignored all day? Cute wasn’t enough to save you.

With a smirk tugging at his lips, Logan walked over, reached out, and plucked the book straight out of your hands.

“Hey!” you yelped, sitting up and reaching for it. “What are you doing?!”

He stepped back, holding the book up over his head. “You were ignorin’ me,” he said simply.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” you argued, scooting to the edge of the bed as if you could reach it.

“Yeah, you were,” Logan replied, his tone teasing. “All damn day, sweetheart. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Your eyes narrowed as you pushed your glasses higher on your nose. “Logan, give it back.”

“Not until you gimme a kiss,” he countered with a grin.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, holding the book out of your reach. “One kiss, and you get your book back.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” His smirk widened.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “This is ridiculous.”

“Then I guess you don’t need the book back.” Logan made a show of flipping through the pages as if he was about to start reading it himself.

“Alright, alright!” You got up on your knees, leaning toward him. “But just one.”

Logan lowered the book slightly, clearly pleased with himself. “One’s all I need, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned forward, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. Logan’s grin widened against your mouth, and before you could pull away, his hand came up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss just enough to make you forget your irritation.

When he finally let you go, his eyes were full of mischief. “There. Was that so hard?”

You snatched the book from his hand, your cheeks warm. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed with a smirk. “But you love me anyway.”

---

After an exhausting day of classes and too much loud chattering from the students, all you wanted was to curl up next to Logan and watch whatever would make him happy. Even if it was one of those old westerns again.

You got to the bedroom and dropped your satchel onto the floor. Logan was already in the room, his hair partly wet from his shower and a towel over his bare shoulder.

“Rough day?” He asked.

“Would’ve been easier if I didn’t wear these shoes,” you grumbled.

Logan sighed and kneeled down in front of you, holding one leg with one hand and easily slipping off your heel before doing the same with the other. His rough hands brushed lightly against your ankle, sending a small shiver up your spine.

"You’re gonna end up with blisters wearin’ shoes like that all day," he muttered, glancing up at you with a mix of annoyance and concern.

“I didn’t think I was gonna be on my feet that much. I had to teach Scott’s class because he was busy doing something with the Professor.”

Logan ran a hand through his damp hair, tossing the towel onto a nearby chair. “Scott owes you big for takin’ his class,” he muttered, his gaze softening as he kneeled and pressed his thumb gently along the curve of your arch.

You sighed, melting a bit under his careful touch. “I didn’t mind. It just wasn’t exactly in my plans today.”

“Bet he didn’t even tell ya why, did he?” Logan asked, his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

You shook your head, leaning back slightly as he switched to your other foot. “Nope. Just said he and the Professor were busy. Typical Scott.”

“Figures,” Logan muttered, standing up and reaching for his beater. He slipped it on, the fabric clinging to him in a way that always distracted you for a moment longer than it should have. “How’s that feel now?”

“Better,” you admitted with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Least I can do.”

You were about to flop onto the bed to finally relax, maybe even convince Logan to watch something other than The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, when a sharp knock sounded at the door. Before either of you could respond, Jean’s voice came through.

“Logan? Y/N? Charles needs us in the briefing room. Now.”

Logan groaned, his head falling back. “Of course. Can’t get a damn minute of peace around here.”

You pushed yourself off the bed, but the moment your bare feet hit the floor, a sharp sting shot up your heels. You winced, grabbing onto the edge of the bed for balance.

Logan noticed immediately. “What’d I just say about those shoes, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone part exasperation, part concern. Without waiting for a response, he stepped closer, his hands already reaching for you.

“I can walk,” you protested as he scooped you up effortlessly, arms cradling you against his chest. “And what if we get there and I need shoes?” you added, trying to inject some logic into the situation.

Logan huffed a laugh, glancing down at you as he carried you toward the door. “Guess you’ll just have to sit pretty and let me handle it.”

Jean was waiting in the hallway, a knowing smirk on her face as she saw Logan carrying you. “You’re really leaning into the knight-in-shining-armor thing, huh?”

“Don’t start, Jeannie,” Logan shot back, his tone light but his grip on you firm.

Ororo and Hank joined the group as you made your way down the hall, both raising eyebrows at the sight of Logan carrying you.

“Rough day, Y/N?” Ororo teased gently.

“You could say that,” you replied with a sheepish smile.

When you finally reached the briefing room, Logan set you down gently in a chair, crouching briefly to make sure you were comfortable. His large hand lingered on your knee as if to reassure himself you were okay.

You barely noticed because the moment your gaze lifted, your breath caught. Standing near Charles and Scott was a group of people you immediately recognized from news reports and scientific journals. One in particular had your jaw dropping.

“It’s Bruce Banner,” you whispered, eyes wide as you leaned closer to Logan. “Logan. That’s Bruce Banner.”

Logan glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “The science guy?”

“Yes, the science guy,” you whispered back, trying not to stare too obviously. “This is incredible.”

Logan’s lips twitched, but his response was cut off by Charles clearing his throat. “Thank you all for coming. As you may have noticed, we have some new faces here today.”

Scott, standing rigid at Charles’s side, didn’t look thrilled, but his posture screamed professionalism. Beside him, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Thor, and Steve Rogers stood with varying degrees of curiosity and skepticism.

But it was Steve who caught your attention next. His gaze swept the room until it landed on Logan—and then, surprisingly, on you. His expression flickered, something like recognition flashing across his face before it was gone. You frowned, unsure of what you’d just seen, but the moment passed as Charles continued.

“Allow me to introduce the Avengers.”

You reached for Logan’s hand under the table, your thumb gently tracing patterns over his knuckles and palm. His hand tightened slightly around yours, a subtle reassurance as you sat in the presence of these strangers.

“The Avengers? Whatta stupid name,” Logan muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You shot him a look, lips twitching despite yourself. “Logan.”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just sayin’.”

Charles continued speaking, his calm, authoritative voice attempting to bridge the gap between the X-Men and their unexpected visitors. “Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. reached out to us following the incident in New York City. He felt it prudent that we meet, given the shared nature of our goals.”

Scott, standing near the Professor, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. His arms were crossed tightly, and his jaw was set in a way that screamed I don’t trust this.

Thor, meanwhile, was visibly intrigued, his gaze sweeping across the room with curiosity. “So these are the famed X-Men,” he remarked, his deep voice filling the space. “It is a pleasure to meet warriors of such renown.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened, and you glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at Thor; his eyes were locked on Steve Rogers, who was staring back at him with a mix of recognition and surprise.

“Logan,” Steve said, stepping forward slightly. His voice was steady, but there was a faint undercurrent of disbelief. “It’s been… a long time.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “It has.”

The tension was thick, but you couldn’t help noticing the flicker of something else in Steve’s face—something that shifted when his gaze slid to you. His expression softened, and for the briefest moment, he looked like he was about to say something. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual calm demeanor.

Tony Stark, leaning casually against the wall, jumped in. “Wait, wait. You’re telling me you two go way back to World War II? How old are you people?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Older than you, bub. That’s all you need to know.”

Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.”

Jean, seated beside you, leaned in closer. “You okay?” she whispered, sensing the tension in the room.

You nodded, though your mind was racing. You weren’t entirely sure what was happening between Logan and Steve, but it wasn’t just the history between them that had you unsettled.

Charles, ever the mediator, broke through the undercurrent of tension. “I believe it would be beneficial for all of us to share information and find common ground. We face threats that may one day require collaboration.”

“Agreed,” Natasha said, her voice calm but firm. “If we’re going to work together, we need to understand each other’s capabilities.”

Logan scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Capabilities, huh? You wanna see what we can do?”

“Logan,” you murmured again, placing a hand on his arm. He glanced at you, the edges of his frustration softening slightly.

Bruce, who had been quiet until now, cleared his throat. “I think what Natasha means is that if we’re going to trust each other, we need transparency. We’re not here to fight anyone.”

“Yet,” Logan muttered under his breath.

You sighed, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Honey.”

Thor chuckled, clearly amused by the dynamic between you and Logan. “Your companion has spirit,” he said, addressing Logan directly.

“She’s got more than spirit,” Logan replied, his tone softer now as he glanced at you.

The meeting continued, with Charles and Nick Fury leading the discussion while the rest of you listened. You couldn’t shake the feeling that Steve’s gaze kept drifting toward you, but you didn’t dare look back.

When the meeting finally adjourned, the room began to clear. Steve lingered, his eyes finding Logan once again.

“Logan,” he said quietly, his tone deliberate.

“Cap.” Logan’s response was curt, but his grip on your hand tightened.

Steve hesitated, his gaze flickering to you. “It’s… good to see you again.”

You blinked, startled. “Me?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, and he stood abruptly, pulling you gently to your feet. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

You barely had time to process what had just happened as Logan led you out of the room, his pace brisk, your feet slightly stinging. It wasn’t until you were back in the privacy of your shared room that you managed to catch your breath.

“Logan, what was that about?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing you need to worry about, darlin’.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Logan—”

“Not now,” he said, his tone soft but firm. He pulled you into his arms, his grip almost possessive. “I just… needed to get you outta there.”

You rested your head against his chest, your mind still spinning. You knew that whatever it was, Logan didn’t want to talk about it, but there were too many questions now rattling inside your head.

“What did he mean again?” You said, your voice muffled against his chest, “do you think he meant… one of my past lives?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. His arms around you were solid, grounding, but his grip tightened just enough for you to notice. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice low and gravelly. “Could be. Could just be Cap bein’ Cap. He’s always got that boy scout thing goin’ on.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, your brow furrowed. “Logan, don’t brush this off. He looked like he knew me. Not just ‘oh, you remind me of someone’—he knew me.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he stared down at you. “I told you about 1943,” he said after a moment. “You were a nurse. I met you right before I shipped out for Operation Husky. We didn’t get much time together—just a week—but maybe he remembers you from back then. I don’t know how else he’d know you.”

You bit your lip, trying to piece it together. “He said ‘it’s good to see you again.’ Not ‘it’s good to meet you’ or even ‘you look familiar.’ That’s… specific, Logan.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just—I don’t like it. Him lookin’ at you like that. Like he’s got some kind of claim or somethin’.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Logan, are you jealous?”

His lips twitched in what might’ve been a smirk if he weren’t so serious. “No,” he said, but his tone betrayed him. “I just don’t trust him. Or any of ‘em, really.”

You sighed, resting your hands on his chest. “You know, you can admit it’s weird without growling at everyone in the room.”

“I wasn’t growling.”

“Logan.”

“…Fine. Maybe I was growling a little.” He finally cracked a small grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Look, darlin’, I don’t have all the answers. But I know this—whatever Cap thinks he knows about you, he doesn’t know you like I do.”

Your heart softened at that, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I know.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I told you everything I remember about the other lives. There ain’t much left to figure out, but… if Cap knows somethin’ we don’t, we’ll get to the bottom of it. Together.”

You nodded against his chest, but the unease lingering in your stomach didn’t go away. “Okay.”

For now, you let the subject drop, content to stay wrapped in Logan’s arms. But you couldn’t help wondering—what exactly did Steve Rogers know about you? And why did it feel like the past was about to catch up to you in a way you weren’t prepared for?

---

The next day you walked into your lab, ready to decompress a little even if it meant doing some complex calculus. You opened the doors to your lab and saw Scott and Hank leading Tony and Bruce Banner around your lab.

Bruce Banner—scientific icon, world-renowned mind.

You hesitated, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, already feeling your cheeks flush. Anxiety stirred low in your chest, as though stepping closer would somehow make you too exposed, too scrutinized by these larger-than-life personalities.

Scott noticed you first, turning toward the door. “Y/N,” he said, his voice even but softer than usual. He must’ve picked up on your hesitation because his gaze softened just slightly.

Hank glanced over as well, waving you forward like this was no big deal. “Good timing,” he said warmly. “Come meet our guests.”

Oh, no. No, no, no.

You swallowed hard and stepped forward, managing to avoid tripping over your feet—a miracle, really. Tony had already launched into a monologue about something, but as the new arrival caught his attention, his eyes landed on you.

“Well, what do we have here?” Tony said, cocking an eyebrow. “Another genius in the house? Don’t tell me Stark Industries has competition hiding out in a mansion.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words tangled up and didn’t come.

Scott, likely sensing the rise of your internal panic, stepped closer, standing at your side. His hand brushed your shoulder, solid and reassuring, before it returned to his crossed-arm stance. “This is Dr. Y/N,” Scott said, his tone brisk but protective in that understated way of his. “She’s part of the team and handles all our physics work. You’ll want her opinion on anything advanced.”

You winced a little, feeling like Scott had just put a spotlight on you. “I, uh… Hi,” you managed, adjusting your glasses as you glanced at Bruce, trying not to think too much about how much smarter than you he probably was. “It’s nice to meet you.”

To your surprise, Bruce smiled—not in that awkward, condescending way you sometimes got, but a genuine, warm smile. “Nice to meet you, too, Doctor,” he said, his tone polite. “Hank mentioned your work. I’d love to see what you’re working on sometime.”

Your cheeks flamed. “Oh—um—yeah, sure. I mean, it’s not that interesting. Just… you know… physics.”

Tony snorted. “Oh, ‘just physics,’ she says. Humble, too. Let me guess: some casual light reading on quantum dynamics?”

You felt rooted to the spot, unsure of how to respond. Hank cleared his throat, stepping in smoothly. “Actually,” he said with an amused tone, “Y/N specializes in quantum field theory, but she’s been working on some breakthroughs in spatial-temporal fluctuations.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Spatial-temporal fluctuations? No kidding.”

Bruce adjusted his glasses. “That’s fascinating. I was actually reading a paper recently on the potential overlaps of that field with time-reversal symmetry.”

You blinked, your mind simultaneously thrilled and spinning. “That’s—well, that’s exactly what I’m looking into,” you said quickly before you could lose your nerve. “Though it’s still in early stages. Nothing like what you’ve done.”

Bruce tilted his head, interest flickering in his eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short. Maybe we can exchange notes later?”

“Oh,” you said, startled. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Tony gave a dramatic sigh, clapping his hands together. “Brilliant minds, bonding over impossible science. Warms my heart.” He glanced around the lab. “So, Specks, you’re not gonna, you know, shoot lasers outta your eyes, right? Or turn into… that.” Tony lazily gestured at Hank. “No offense.”

Hank let out a sigh, “none taken.”

You froze, unsure how to respond. The sudden shift in attention felt like a spotlight bearing down on you, and your cheeks warmed. Before you could stammer out an answer, Hank stepped in, his tone calm but firm.

“Y/N’s abilities are unique,” Hank said, resting a steady hand on your shoulder. It was a quiet gesture, but it helped ground you. “She can manipulate time. It’s not something she uses lightly.”

Bruce Banner tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “Time manipulation?” he asked, his voice gentle, more intrigued than intrusive. “That’s… incredible. I can only imagine the complexities.”

You adjusted your glasses, your hand fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “It’s, um… not as impressive as it sounds,” you said quietly, the words tumbling out before you could think them through. “It’s not like I can just—just rewind things or stop time completely. It’s more… nuanced. And honestly, I try not to use it if I don’t have to.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Not as impressive as it sounds? Manipulating time doesn’t exactly scream ‘humdrum.’ What, are you worried about messing up the space-time continuum or something?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your feet. “Something like that.”

Scott, who’d been quietly observing the exchange, stepped closer, his stance subtly protective. “Y/N’s powers are powerful, but she’s not reckless with them. It’s not exactly dinner table conversation.”

Bruce nodded in understanding. “I can appreciate that,” he said, his voice kind. “With abilities like that, caution is probably the smartest approach.”

Tony, however, wasn’t quite ready to drop it. “Still, that’s gotta be a lot of pressure,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Knowing you’ve got all this power but not wanting to use it. I mean, if I could bend time, you’d better believe I’d—”

“That’s enough, Stark,” Scott cut in, his tone sharp enough to silence Tony. He shot you a quick glance, his expression softening. “You don’t have to explain anything you don’t want to.”

You offered Scott a small, grateful smile, but the unease lingering in your chest didn’t fully dissipate. Bruce, perhaps sensing your discomfort, shifted the focus of the conversation.

“Regardless,” Bruce said, his tone thoughtful, “it sounds like you have a deep understanding of your abilities. And paired with your work in physics… well, it’s clear you’re contributing something remarkable here.”

You felt your shoulders relax just a little at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice still shy but sincere.

Tony clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move on. “Alright, enough about bending the fabric of reality. Let’s get back to the fun stuff—labs, gadgets, all that good stuff. Specks, you’re the quantum genius here. What’s the coolest thing you’ve built?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, um… I don’t really build things. I mostly focus on theoretical models and equations.”

Tony feigned a look of disappointment. “No gadgets? No flashy inventions? What do you even do in here?”

Hank cleared his throat, fixing Tony with a look. “Y/N’s work is critical. Without her models, most of what we develop wouldn’t be possible. She’s the foundation.”

Bruce nodded in agreement. “Theory drives application,” he said. “And if you’re working on spatial-temporal fluctuations, you’re tackling some of the most challenging questions in physics. That’s impressive, no matter how you slice it.”

You bit your lip, feeling a small swell of pride despite your lingering nervousness. “Thanks,” you said quietly, your gaze flickering between Bruce and Hank.

Scott, always attuned to your emotions, gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing great,” he said under his breath, his voice so low only you could hear.

You shot him a grateful look, the tension in your chest easing just a little. As the conversation shifted back to lab equipment and theoretical possibilities, you let yourself take a small step back, content to observe for now.

---

You looked in the cupboard for your mug only to find nothing. You had even checked the dishwasher and sink, and it wasn’t in any of those spots.

Jean walked into the kitchen with a dramatic sigh, “I’m pretty sure that… guy—who I still can’t believe is actually Thor—crushed my thermos.”

You closed the cupboard door, “I think one of ‘em took my mug.”

The two of you heard footsteps outside the kitchen, watching Clint and Natasha walking with Ororo down the hall. Clint had your mug.

“Why are they still here?” You grumbled.

Jean let out a chuckle, “now your startin’ to sound like Logan.”

You scoffed lightly, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the counter. “I’m not that grumpy. Yet.”

Jean grinned and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of orange juice. “Give it time. You keep hanging out with him, and you’ll start growling at people too.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, adjusting your glasses. “Yeah, well, if Clint doesn’t give me back my mug, I might start sooner than expected.”

Jean poured herself a glass of juice, shaking her head in amusement. “You and that mug.”

“It’s my favorite mug!” you argued, throwing your hands up. “It’s the perfect size, the handle doesn’t get too hot, and it has the constellations on it. I’ve had it for years.”

“And now it’s Clint’s favorite mug,” Jean teased, sipping her juice.

Before you could retort, Logan walked into the kitchen. His boots thudded against the floor, and he gave a short nod to you and Jean. “Mornin’.”

Jean raised her glass in greeting, but you turned to Logan, still fuming. “Clint took my mug.”

Logan quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway. “Want me to get it back?”

Jean snorted, clearly entertained. “What are you gonna do, Logan? Growl at him until he gives it up?”

Logan shot her a dry look. “Worked last time, didn’t it?”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “It’s fine. I’ll get it later. Maybe.”

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his gruffness easing slightly. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing it off, though the thought of Clint sipping coffee from your mug still irked you. “Not worth starting a whole thing over.”

“Could be fun, though,” Logan muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Jean laughed and set her glass in the sink. “Well, this has been delightful, but I’ve got a Danger Room session to run. Try not to maim Clint over the mug, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises,” Logan said, earning a laugh from Jean as she left the kitchen.

Once it was just the two of you, Logan moved closer, grabbing a coffee mug from the cupboard—one of the generic ones everyone used. He glanced over at you as he poured his coffee. “You okay?”

You sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess. And maybe a little annoyed. It’s been a long week.”

Logan nodded, his expression thoughtful as he sipped his coffee. “Anything I can do?”

You smiled softly at the offer. Logan always had a knack for cutting through the noise and centering you without effort. “No, it’s fine. Thanks, though.”

Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, that familiar softness appearing in the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “Alright,” he said, his voice low. “But if Clint doesn’t give that mug back, you just say the word.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling the tension ease ever so slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of you shared a brief moment of quiet, and then Logan took a step closer, his coffee steaming in his hands. “How’s the lab stuff goin’? That Banner guy giving you a hard time?”

You shook your head quickly, pushing your glasses further up your nose. “No, actually. He’s… nice. Really nice, actually.” You paused, then let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “It’s just overwhelming, you know? People like him—and Stark—they’re so brilliant, and I can’t help but feel like I don’t measure up.”

Logan grunted, taking a sip of his coffee before leaning one hip against the counter. “You’re worried about not measurin’ up to Stark?” He arched a brow. “That guy’s got enough ego to make up for every flaw he’s got. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You smiled faintly at Logan’s bluntness. “It’s not him. It’s… me. My own head is the problem.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp but kind. “Y/N, you’re probably the smartest person I’ve met—and I’ve met Banner and Stark. You need me to remind you again of the times you’ve bailed Hank out with your brain?”

The warmth in his tone brought a deeper flush to your cheeks, and you averted your gaze, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “That’s sweet of you to say, but—”

“But nothin’.” Logan’s voice was firm, though not unkind. “You know how many times you’ve pulled the X-Men out of a mess just by bein’ you? Hell, if it weren’t for you, none of us would even have the equipment that makes half the missions possible. You’re not just smart, darlin’; you’re vital.”

You blinked at him, warmth blooming in your chest at the way he looked at you—earnest, unwavering. “Thanks, Logan,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He tipped his head, his smirk more subdued now. “Anytime.”

this was 2012 (or the rest of it) and 2013!

and btw, 'girl i've always been' is underrated, it's one of my favorite's from guts spilled

[drugsorgasmsandcheese]

my womanhood has never been threatened by a trans woman. i have never felt threatened by the existence of trans people. i am disgusted and repulsed by the actions of the uk supreme court. trans rights are human rights.

[boypied]

james howlett hates being told to slow down when he's turning your hole into a sloppy mess, so you better shut up and take it.

james loves being on top. he wouldn't want it any other way. Watching you wriggle, squirm, and whimper beneath was everything he's ever wanted in the world.

he can't get enough of watching you suck on his fingers as he thrusts into you with no care in the world. james has to do it raw, no question. it helps him feel connected to you in a way.

you love the feeling of james' thick creamy load coating every inch of your rose coloured walls while his thrusts become more and more sloppy during his climax. that's the best part for you.

[cherrywineisawaltz]

It’s becoming a beach episode situation…..will post later

MINORS DNI

NOTES: fuck me Logan PLEASE. As always, I need him, so! Very short as always

WARNINGS: car sex, nicknames, Logan knows who you are before the deed but you don’t, getting folded in half by Logan (hope ur flexible), porn (technically) no plot?

Dofp!Logan is coming to find you the second he gets to his young selfs body. Okay, maybe not the second, he does still have to get Charles and Hank, but there’s a day in between events, where nothing happens and he’s not needed for the sake of the universe and he takes it. And when Charles and Hank ask where he’s going, he just tells them he has someone he needs to see.

Honestly it’s a little too easy to find you. And it’s just as easy to get you all folded up in the back of the Buick, his cock sheathed inside you with your heels scraping the roof, head nearly hitting the car window with each thrust. He was always too good at getting you right where he wanted. You didn’t even know each other yet, no, you and Logan don’t meet for at least five more years, but you’re younger and just a bit sluttier and you’re not exactly banging your hands on his chest after he asks to take you out back after an hour of laying it on heavy at the bar you were working at.

“Look at you, baby, so fucking pretty—mmph—and all for me, isn’t that right?” You nod quickly, skin sheening with sweat, clawing at his shoulders while you’re absolutely gushing around his cock. You might have been embarrassed putting out so easily if every word coming out of his mouth didn’t send a warm tingle down to your cunt.

Your ankles bob on either side of his head where he’s got his eyes craned down to look at where he’s pushing in and out of you, like he’s mesmerized. He pulls out half way, then pushes in half way, just to fuck with you—at least that’s what you think. You have no idea how much he’s savoring the sight of your pussy wrapping around him, how twitchy and pretty she is. He laughs when you writhe and buck beaneath him, but he’s got your hips pinned down to the seat, and god this guy is fucking strong. He growls—fucking growls—when he finally bottoms out, and he looks at you like he could absolutely eat you alive, “So perfect for me, just wanna feel good don’t you, sweetheart?”

It’s hard to answer, especially since he’s sinking over you now, bringing your legs with him, ankles on his shoulders while he’s leaning over you driving even deeper than before. The tinge of pain of being nearly entirely folded in half is lost in every thrust that knock’s repeatedly into the soft spongy spot inside you. His breath fans over your face, and you think he might kiss you but he just looks at you, and then turns his head to kiss the side of your ankle, “Sorry sweetheart,” he groans, “If I kiss you—mmh—there’s no way in hell I’m leaving ya.”

You think to ask what he means, but then he’s got a thumb on your clit and his cock is shoving impossibly deeper, and every one of your thoughts is immediately leaving your pretty little head.

[sweetverine]

PURRFECT FAMILY | old man!logan

chapter two : A Tail Between Us

summary : logan wants to get there and cuddle with his girl after a long shift, misty has other plans.

warnings : none! (i think)

a/n : another chapter of Purrfect Family!! it took me too long to write it... i didn't have much creativity for it but after a lot of thought, i did it! Logan is quite 'immature' lol i hope you like it <3 english isn't my first language so if anything's weird please let me know!

The last week has been a complete nuisance. The cat was everywhere. Was there a problem with a man wanting to spend time with his girl ALONE? Was it necessary for her to be there all the time? Watching your every move? She seemed so sweet to you, but with him? Oh, she judged him with a murderous look, he could swear she would try to kill him at night when you were sleeping.

Logan was obviously not dramatic.

Misty didn't hate Logan, she seemed curious about him even though she kept her distance. She still doesn't get too close to you either, she accepts and seeks your touch but she doesn't cuddle with you yet. You are both 'strangers' yet, the cat is learning to trust you, little by little she will feel safe enough to rest in the same bed.

You were in the kitchen, preparing pasta. your furry friend was on top of the fridge, looking down on everything. Yesterday she discovered that she could jump to high places and get a better view of her new home. Logan entered the kitchen. Upon entering, he jumped a little, seeing Misty sitting over the refrigerator. “the hell is she doing up there?” He says, already frowning. Opening the refrigerator, He took out a beer, closing the door and giving the cat a sour look.

“Misty discovered she likes heights." You said, smiling. Misty gave a raspy meow in response. “that's right miss” your voice became high pitched as you talked to her, everytime.

Logan grunted, opening the beer, “I don't like her up there.” He took a big gulp of beer, letting it go down his throat in a satisfying way. He left the bottle on the counter. His arms wrapped around you as he buried his head in your neck. You felt his beard tickle your neck and Logan let out a grunt.

“Are you like this because of misty?” you tease, enjoying the closeness of your bodies.

“don't talk about it.” he says, his voice a bit raspy and you could smell the cigar he smoked on the couch.

“Why don't you love her as much as I do?” Logan growls again, he looks like an angry cat when he does that, he leaves kisses on your neck.

“Don't you think loving her is too much? You barely know her." His strong grip indicated possession, he was jealous of a cat, that damn cat.

“Logan, she's just a cat.” You said, looking to the side to see him, your nose pressing against his cheek. “You are behaving like a complete child right now.” Logan bites your neck before pulling away, He's completely ignoring you when you say things like that, he has every right to feel grumpy about misty.

well he likes to think that way.

In the afternoon, Logan got ready for work, fastening his belt while you helped him button his white shirt. He is going to work at night today, and would be back by the time the sun started to rise. at least you wouldn't be alone. He kissed you tenderly, letting your lips enjoy each other's experience for the last time this day. You smiled against his mouth as he pulled away.

“night, princess.” he murmured, pulling away, not before giving you a last short kiss to finally leave the apartment.

The city was always chaotic, noisy and above all annoying.

Logan couldn't stop thinking about you, to distract himself, obviously. He had to spend the night with something. But these days, something was pulling him out of his usual thoughts: the furry friend who joined home a few days ago, he couldn't stand her anymore, it's very immature of him to think that way about a CAT.

Only when no one was around, he opened the window and lit a cigar, Logan just wanted to get to you fast.

He had to make two more trips than usual to get even more money. He wanted to buy you a house, although the apartment was cozy, he couldn't stop imagining having a permanent home, without having to pay rent every month.

Logan arrived home around 6 in the morning, his feet were cold, and he was already looking forward to going to bed with you. To cuddle up with you and bring the warmth back to his body. Hmm, what a wonderful idea.

He enters the apartment silently, closing the door gently before taking off his jacket. He walks to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes lazily. A shower wouldn't hurt, After being out all night in the city, it was noticeable in the smell of his clothes and on his body. The hot water comes out of the shower soaking his muscles and relaxing them, he groaned softly. He wasn't that big of a fan of taking baths but he discovered that he liked it when you complimented him on his smell.

He wrapped a towel around his waist. The steamy bathroom was warm. Logan reluctantly dried himself off, finally going to the room you shared. He almost jumped when he opened the door and found Misty….. on HIS SIDE OF THE BED. dramatic trumpets, Oh god. Logan frowned, walking slowly to the closet, putting on some boxers and a tank top.

How would he get into bed? How would he snuggle up with you? Not with the cat in between. He couldn't do it. At least not tonight.

“move.” He rasped, trying to get the cat out.

Misty opened her eyes sleepily, looking at him without bothering.

Logan sighed as he opened the sheets, the kitten was forced to move, but not too much. He got inside and lay down on his back, looking to the ceiling. He could be hugging you from behind, his head buried in your neck, his hands on your chest, warming each other up, but he's not.

he could take the cat out of the room, but he knew you'd get mad at him so he couldn't. Logan knew if he took the cat out of bed, it would inevitably climb back in. He growled softly, only to get even more wrinkled if he kept bothering about things like this.

In the morning, you rolled over, surprised to not feel Logan behind you, clinging like a tick. The sun filtered through the window as you yawned, The sheets were warm, you wanted to stay there forever. You opened your eyes slowly, seeing Logan lying on his back and Misty on top of him, relaxed. You were filled with love, they looked so pretty together. quickly you grabbed your phone, taking a picture of the cute situation.

You moved even closer, snuggling closer to him, with a sleepy smile. Logan's snores lowered the volume a little and he began to wake up. He opened his eyes and realized the weight on top of him. He growled, taking the cat and putting her at the end of the bed.

“Who told you that you could do that?” His voice was hoarse from all the sleep.

“morning, lo.” you said, pulling him out of his destructive morning thoughts, he turned around vaguely.

“morning.” he was already frowning. You laughed a little and looked at Misty, who stretched out and lay back down on the bed. Too sleepy to function yet, you were happy to see her so relaxed.

Logan lays down again, groaning, his back hurts. Old man things. he gets closer, laying on your chest, Breathing your scent.

“Your cat wouldn't let me sleep with you,” he said, his hand caressing your skin.

“Did she? she was very comfortable with you.” you chuckled, caressing his grey hair.

“I don't want her using me like I'm her damn bed.”

“don't be dramatic.” you mumbled, hugging him more tightly.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

You already knew I was coming in for Kinktober!!

May I pleaseeeee have Hugh Jackman with these prompts.

“Remember who’s in charge here baby, I’d choose your next words carefully.” 

 “Act like a brat and I’ll treat you like a brat.” 

I'll send in a logan one here in a few 😉😉😉😉

In charge

A/N: I wrote this one for Logan instead! Hope you don’t mind! Also this was pending since Kinktober 24’ sorry 🫣

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut. Little fluff?

Logan/Hugh Jackman Masterlist

.

The fight had started on the jet. A mission gone sideways, too many bodies, too little backup, and one impulsive decision on your part that nearly got you both shredded.

You didn’t expect a thank you for pulling his ass out of the line of fire—but you also didn’t expect the growled lecture. The barely restrained fury behind clenched teeth. The way Logan yanked you aside once you were safe, nostrils flared and voice rough, calling you reckless, stupid, goddamn infuriating.

Now you’re back at the cabin, the air thick with leftover adrenaline and pride.

“You don’t get to talk to me like I’m a rookie,” you snap, pacing in front of the fire like it’s the only thing keeping you from launching something at the wall. “I saved your life, Logan. You’re welcome.”

“You risked everything for a goddamn chance.” His voice comes from the shadows, low and unbothered, like he’s not nearly as pissed as he should be—but his knuckles are still white around that cigar.

“And I’d do it again. What, you’re mad I didn’t let you play the hero?”

That earns you a low, bitter laugh. He leans back further in the rickety armchair like a wolf who knows he doesn’t need to chase—you’ll come to him. You always do.

You’re breathing hard, body coiled tight. Heat radiates off your skin. You’re angry. And you’re looking at him like you want to tear something apart.

Logan just tilts his head.

“You done stomping around like you’re lookin’ for a fight, or do you need a damn invitation?” he says, voice sharp as broken glass, smoke curling up like a warning.

You stop. Turn slowly. Arms crossed. “Careful, Logan,” you say, tone syrup-sweet and soaked in defiance. “You might just get what you’re asking for.”

That’s when his eyes darken. The chair creaks under him as he stands, the cigar flicked carelessly into the fireplace behind you.

“Remember who’s in charge here, baby,” he growls, closing the space between you in two long strides. “I’d choose your next words carefully.”

You smile. Sweet and defiant.

“Or what?”

He closes the space between you in two slow steps.

“Act like a brat,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, “and I’ll treat you like a brat.”

You don’t back down—not when he closes the distance, not when his breath grazes your skin. You lift your chin instead, daring him with that gleam in your eye that always gets you into trouble.

He notices. Of course he does.

“Cute,” he mutters, voice thick as molasses, dripping heat and warning in equal measure. His knuckles brush along your jaw, featherlight. A touch so gentle, it feels more like a tease than comfort. “You really wanna play this game tonight?”

“I’m not scared of you,” you whisper, even as your pulse hammers against your throat.

Logan’s lips twitch into a smirk. Not amused—hungry.

“No,” he says, thumb dragging slowly across your bottom lip. “You’re not. And that’s exactly why you’re dangerous.”

He takes his time then—circling behind you, fingertips grazing your arm, your waist, like he’s mapping you out for later. Like he’s memorizing all the places he’s going to ruin with nothing but patience and heat.

The fire crackles behind you, but it’s nothing compared to what’s building between you two. The room shrinks, the tension coils tighter. You feel it in every breath, every inch of skin exposed to the cold air and to him.

He leans in again, lips ghosting over your ear. “Say somethin’ bratty. Go on,” he dares you, voice almost playful. “Give me an excuse.”

And damn it, you’re tempted.

You twist just enough to glance at him over your shoulder, a sly little smile playing on your lips. You feel his breath against your neck, warm and steady, but his eyes—those eyes are locked on you like you’re prey he’s already claimed.

“Well,” you purr, “if you’re in charge… why are we still talking?”

Boom.

Logan stills for a second—just a second. Long enough for the air to snap like a live wire between you. Then he lets out a low, guttural sound that starts in his chest and ends with his hands grabbing your hips hard enough to brand.

“You think that mouth of yours is cute,” he snarls, spinning you to face him.

You barely register the movement before your back’s against the log wall, his hand braced beside your head, the other wrapped around your throat—not squeezing, just reminding you. Who’s bigger. Who’s stronger. Who’s in charge now.

“You wanna be a brat?” he rasps, nose brushing against yours, lips just grazing but never giving. “Fine. Let’s see how long that attitude lasts when you’re beggin’ me to slow down.”

Your smirk falters—just a breath—but it’s all he needs.

His mouth crashes into yours, all heat and teeth, swallowing that last shred of smugness and replacing it with raw, messy need. His hands are everywhere at once—pulling, grabbing, owning—like he’s trying to get you closer even though you’re already tangled up in him like wildfire.

Clothes hit the floor with reckless speed. Boots thud, zippers scream, buttons fly. It’s not clean. It’s not careful. It’s desperate—two people trying to win a war they’re both secretly dying to lose.

He lifts you effortlessly, like your weight’s nothing, and slams you onto the bed with a growl that’s more animal than man. Your laugh—breathless and defiant—only spurs him on.

“Still not scared of me, sweetheart?” he pants, eyes dark and wild as he hovers over you.

You grin, cocky and unrepentant. “Make me be.”

Logan stares down at you like you’ve just declared war—and lucky for you, he loves a fight.

“You got a damn mouth on you,” he mutters, half to himself, as his fingers trail down your body like he’s committing each curve to memory. “Good thing I know how to shut it.”

Before you can come up with something smart—and bratty—he kisses you again. Deeper. It’s not gentle. It’s consuming. Like he’s trying to devour the attitude right out of you. His hands move rough and deliberate, calloused palms sliding along your thighs, parting them like a man on a mission, like a man who’s already decided how this ends.

He drags his lips down your neck, over your collarbone, taking his time to leave bruises—claims—with every bite and kiss. You arch into him, nails raking down his back, and that earns you a low, dangerous chuckle.

“Feisty little thing,” he growls against your skin, nipping your side just hard enough to make you gasp. “You were made to drive me crazy, huh?”

You smirk. “Took you this long to figure that out?”

And that’s the exact moment the leash snaps.

He flips you in one smooth motion, face pressed into the pillow as his body cages you in from behind. His hand settles between your shoulder blades, holding you in place—not hurting, just… controlling. Every instinct in him screams alpha, feral, yours. And you love every second of it.

“You wanna act like a brat?” he hisses, hips grinding slow and punishing against you. “Fine. You’ll take every goddamn inch like one.”

You whimper—finally, a crack in that defiance—and Logan hears it.

“That’s what I thought.”

When he finally sinks into you, it’s rough, deep, and filthy. His name punches out of your throat in a moan so needy it makes him curse. He sets a brutal, perfect rhythm, giving you no time to catch your breath—just the sweet, relentless ache of being completely ruined.

His voice is right in your ear, panting, wrecked, sinful.

“You feel that? That’s what you get for running your mouth.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The words are gone. Evaporated into the thick, hot air along with every ounce of smugness you had.

He grabs your hair, pulls you up just enough so your back arches into him, so he can see your flushed, dazed face in the fogged-up cabin window.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty when you’re losing.”

You don’t remember when it ends—just the sound of your name in a broken whisper and the way his body trembles against yours as he finally lets go. Like a dam breaking. Like he’s been holding back forever and only you could undo him.

There’s a moment of silence afterward. The kind that hums with leftover heat and breathless shock. The kind that makes the world feel far away.

Then Logan moves.

Gently.

More gently than you’d ever expect from a man built like sin and raised on violence. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just slips out of bed, muscles taut and shining with sweat, and disappears for a second—long enough that you almost miss the weight of him.

But he comes back. Of course he does. With a damp cloth and a glass of water, a fresh blanket tossed over one arm.

“Hey,” he murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair from your face with a touch so soft it could make you cry. “You okay, baby?”

You nod, throat tight, heart weirdly full. “Yeah. Better than okay.”

His smile is small and a little shy—like it catches him off guard every time you look at him like that. Like he means something.

He wipes you down carefully, murmuring something about how he “might’ve gotten a little carried away,” which is hilarious considering your legs are currently jello and your neck probably looks like a topographic map of his teeth marks.

“You did great,” you whisper, hand sliding over his chest, still rising and falling too fast. “Scored a ten in ‘brat discipline.’ Might even let you win next time.”

He groans, dropping his head into your shoulder with a muttered “God help me.”

After a while, you end up wrapped in one of his flannels—ridiculously oversized—and tucked against him like a puzzle piece. Logan’s fingers trace lazy patterns on your thigh, his lips pressed to your temple.

No words. Just warmth. His breath in your hair. The distant sound of snow falling outside.

And then, just as your eyes start to flutter closed, he murmurs.

“You keep talkin’ like that, darlin’, I’m gonna have to show you round two’s got teeth.”

[lovelybucky1]

Logan Howlett Masterlist

headcanons + drabbles

big bad wolf +

being his dog +

his fantasies +

logan in a collar +

size kink +

intox kink +

humiliation +

couples costumes +

nsfw alphabet +

sparring +

cowboy!logan #

worshipping him +

giving you head +

threesome with wade +

putting on makeup #

coquette #

pet play +

pet play p2 +

crush #

sharing wade +

side chick +

side chick p2 +

breath play +

headlock +

old man!logan #

old man!logan p2+

old man!logan p3 #

pierced and tatted!reader +

cheating with logan +

dp with wade +

pheromone perfume with wade #

princess treatment +

dad!logan #

period sex +

overeager wade and caring logan +

sub logan (featuring wade) +

spanking +

spanking p2 +

vintage lingerie +

what he considers bratting #

go greek!au supply closet +

father figure +

sex playlist +

fics

dress up #

crybaby +

ain’t as good as i once was +

little red +

never have i ever (with wade) +

cliché +

[eml0tz]

Pretty kitty 🐾

a/n: okay.. so.. I haven’t posted in forever and now I’ve changed who I write for…. So now I’m obsessed with Logan thank you!! And now not a lot of people at writing for him, so I’ve decided to take a stand and write for him, my writing is probably very shit say what you want. AND PLEASE GIVE ME IDEAS AGHHH

I’m not reading it until I’m horny because I wrote this whole thing then it wouldnt let me save it then I had to restart the app AND IT GOT RID OF IT SO IM SORRY BUT I CANT

WARNINGS: belly bulge, breeding kink, reader didn’t consent verbally but she wants it! Humiliation? I guess not rlly lmk if I miss anything

SMUT UNDER CUT

When Wade invited Logan to live in a cramped apartment with the knowledge of Althea, Wade and now him and a dog living there it seemed to be too much and too small for him, but when Wade mentioned ‘pet sitting’ he thought I would be the ugly dog wade decided to bring back with him.

That was until he saw you curled up in a ball on the couch, Wade had told him about you, that you were a cat mutant and that you had instincts like him, Logan already knew wade didn’t need to tell him.

But what Logan didn’t know was the instincts just made you more cat-like, like Logan’s made him violent, confused or even feral, but no, you were playful, curious, sneaky, more of a night owl, and non verbal.

Today was a day where wade had ‘forced’ Logan to ‘pet-sit’ you.

He was sitting on the couch his arm over the back of it as he channel surfed, he started to wonder where you had scrambled off to, and since wade had told him that your instincts were at max today

He clicked his tongue as he let out a low whistle

“Pss, kitty” he called for you in his gravelly voice as he quirked an eyebrow looking around the apartment

He heard a few crashes as you ran around the apartment scaring the dog on the way he let out a low chuckled watching you darted around before jumping up onto the couch next to him.

He saw what wade was talking about how you could see what state you were in, your pupils were dilated basically pitch black except for the sliver of iris around the edge

“Hey kitty” he said as he chuckled lowly

You mewled sitting in his lap rubbing your head against his chest, he ran his hand down your back, you arched into his touch causing him to chuckle lowly

Just before he realised, a sweet smell hit him as-well as your dark eyes as your silky tail swaying in the air

Heat.

He wasn’t mad, hell no, he was glad, he was happy that he wasnt the only one with these urges and he was happy that he was the one who could help you, he might have a soft spot for you but he wouldn’t admit it

“Hey, kitty? Are you in.. heat?” He hesitantly asked, cautious of how you may act if he knew

You mewled rubbing your head against his as your tail swayed

He watched you as he thought

“Would you like me to help you bub?” He asked, he was already worked up by your sweet smell his boner rubbing against his jeans

You mewled loudly pawing at his chest as your tail swayed quicker

He chuckled as he removed his throbbing cock out of his jeans and boxers

You stared at him, his tip red and angry as his cock spat out pre cum from the slit, it was girthy and long

He smirked slightly as he helped remove your shirt and panties in one go you lifted your hips to help him

He held your hips moving you to hover over his cock, he stared at your glistening pussy as he lined himself up to your entrance.

Logan let out a sharp exhale as you sunk your tight pussy onto his cock, you moaned loudly squirming on his lap

He groaned lowly at her movements, he didn’t catch something in the corner of his eye as you moved, your lower stomach showed how big he was, his cock was basically bulging out of your lower abdomen, before you could do anything he pushed against the bulge as he set a brutal pace up into your pussy

You moaned loudly as you pushed your hips down onto his, he let out a low moan as you moved

It was rough, raw, intense, and passionate, two animals fucking like it was the end of the world

Although your loud moan interrupted you both of your from your pleasure, he understood why you were so loud when he felt your wet pussy flutter around him, he held onto your hips pulling you back down onto his cock your pussy spasming around him before she gushed around him

She collapsed onto him hearing her juices splash onto Logan, the couch and the wooden floor

You both moaned as you panted holding onto Logan as you trembled from your high, the sounds of your loud, quick breaths drowned out the noise of wade coming home

Logan moaned pulling your hips down onto his as he thrusted up filling your sweet pussy with his cum, his cock throbbing as he spurted his release into your hole

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Wade..

[lovecandyxx]

Old Man Logan come home the kids miss you….

[lostinlovingrevery]

Concept: sleepy Logan is very difficult to persuade to let you get up. If he's all wrapped around you (he likely is) the chances are even lower,,, and when/if you do get up to do what you need to he will be adorably grumpy

Happy Sunday 🔆 :)))

NO SLEEPY LOGAN!!!!! IS MY KRYPTONITE!!!!!

Just picture him, all bedhead, maybe some bags under his eyes, he can barely hold them open. He's NOT a morning person that's for damn sure.

100 percent a cuddler. Its great during colder months- the summer months are hell though but he does NOT allow you to move even an inch from him, arms and legs wrapped around you and you're trapped. The man runs like a furnace so invest in an AC in your room forreal.

I just wanna snuggle into his side <3

Small blurb below!

You got errands to run today- so you decided to get up a little earlier than you usually do., maybe like 8 o clock or so. You're trying to be quiet and discreet about it- the moment you start to move, lifting his arm off you it snatches back around your waist. He's just moving his arm but there's such attitude about it.

"Lo, I gotta get up" You laugh as he tugged you closer. He doesn't say anything at first, a heartbeat passing and you think he's already asleep again- only for him to speak up.

"No."

You can't get an actual conversation out of him like this. Resembling a caveman the way he grumbles one worded answers.

"Sleep."

"You can sleep, I got things to do-" You laugh, "Come on!" You try to tug him off, but his arms wrapped around you tightly, and he throws a leg around you- for a good measure.

"Mm-mm." He grumbles burying his face into your hair. Hard to believe the Wolverine is such a snuggle bug when it comes to you. You originally though you would be the clingy one in the relationship- far from it. Logan grumbles and complains anytime you do something without him.

You sigh, ready to give up and plot out how you can reschedule your plans for the day when you felt his arms loosen around you- likely dropping his guard, thinking he succeeded in keeping you in bed. You took the chance and jumped out.

"Hey!" Logan grumbles loudly, sitting up to scowl at you.

"Logan- I told you, I have things to do baby." You smile apologetically.

He flares his nostrils in frustration, rolling his eyes as he pulls the blankets off himself and climbs out of bed. You watched him, strolling across the bedroom like a zombie to his dresser as he pulled the drawer open to grab a pair of briefs, and another and snatched some jeans.

"You don't need to get up." You put your hands on your hips as he sits on a chair and starts to get dress.

"We got things to do." He mumbles. You scoff, shaking your head and walking over to him, cupping his face with your hands.

"You're impossible, you know that." You tease, kissing his forehead, he tipped his head up to meet your eyes, and smirks knowingly, then leaning forward to catch you in a real kiss.

[rosenclaws]

Worst Logan who goes to Therapy now and he doesn’t like it but his therapist tells him he should work on doing something creative with his hands because he still thinks he’s a weapon of destruction

Enter. Logan who learns Guitar (I’m biased I play guitar)

Him getting frustrated as hell and goes to some second hand music store to buy a cheap acoustic guitar which is where he finds you working.

You offer to help him bc you need the extra money teaching and he has no clue where to start and he does not trust youtube whatsoever after Wade made him watch stupid vine compliations for 3 hours straight.

He hates it. He thinks his fingers are too big to hit the strings right and he keeps messing up the chords but you’re patient and eventually he gets the hang of it. After slicing the strings off once or twice.

But can u imagine getting serenaded by him and his voice is shakey and a little rough but he sounds so much better than you thought and he can’t even meet your eyes because he’s not confident in his singing or playing ability but you start to cry bc of how sweet it is.

Anyways get this man a guitar and teach him some Noah Kahan.