A/N: ex!logan x princess!reader, angst, comfort, mentions of SA, mentions of violence and blood, dark!logan, possessive!logan, dub con, unprotected sex
Part One
It was nearly 1am when you were woken out of your sleep. Not by any sound, by a presence. A dark and heavy sense of self accompanied by a smell of iron, smoke, and sweat that you had come to associate with danger, but also protection.
“Logan?” You called, not too loudly because you knew he’d heard you the moment you sat up in your bed. “Is that you?”
His heavy footsteps stalked through the narrow hallway and you forced down the lump in your throat as his silhouette came to a stop in front of your slightly open door. With the light from your salt lamp falling onto him, you could see the blood dried on his knuckles, the stogie in his mouth, the scuff marks and splatters of sweat and more blood on his boots. “Just me, princess.”
“What did you do?” You asked with wide eyes and trembling hands as his large and imposing figure walked over to the side of your bed.
Slowly, his hand came up to touch your face and you flinched only slightly due to the blood, but it didn’t deter him. Logan cupped your cheek and smoothed his thumb over the apple of it, tinting your skin a pale crimson. “I made things right,” He said with a small smile as if he had done you a favor. “For you.”
A small, defeated sigh leaves your lips and you look at him sadly. “You can’t keep doing things like this,” You say, gently taking his hand off your face and looking over his knuckles. They were healed, the blood definitely wasn’t his, and you chewed your bottom lip anxiously at the thought of Eric bloodied and dropped in some ditch. “Did you-is he, you know…” You trail off, unsure of how to ask such a loaded question.
Fortunately, Logan can still read you like the front page. “He’s alive, missin’ a few teeth,” He added with a small shrug as he cupped your concerned face in his large, warm palms before continuing, “But he’ll learn never to touch you like that again.”
“I didn’t wan-” You begin, but he cuts you off with a sudden and very hungry kiss. “Mm, Lo-”
His tongue slips easily past your lips, quieting your weak protests as he moves to lay on top of you, his bloodied boots abandoned on the floor, his clothes coming off along with yours until his dirty hands are caressing your bare body. The blood tints your skin a light crimson as his hands revisit the sensitive spots Logan likes to tease, squeezing your thighs and kneading your hips and stimulating your breasts while you squirm for him. “Let me, princess,” He begs, kissing your neck and groaning as your thighs spread beneath him. “Let me make you feel good, just tonight.” You can feel the erection between his thighs pressed against your lower belly and you moan as he slowly grinds against your pussy.
“Just tonight.” You sigh, tipping your head back as the head of his cock slides and teases your wet entrance. “Logan, wait, do you have a con-”
The questions shoots out of your head as his cock pushes in and you arch in ecstasy as he fills you, stretches you, fits in you like no one else can and, damn it, you’ve tried.
“Just like I remember.” He groans, taking one of your hands and placing it on his bare chest as he begins fucking you. His length slides in and out, stretching your pussy with each thrust until you’re writhing from the intense pleasure. “That’s my sweet girl. You like it, huh, princess?” Logan’s tongue licks greedily at yours, biting and growling while you wonder how these same hands that can knock the teeth out of someone’s mouth are now so carefully moving over your body.
“Lo-Logan, you can’t hurt people just b-bec-uh!” You struggle to scold him while his hips roll steadily into yours in that way that makes his swollen tip press into your cervix each time. “You’re always f-fight-ing, one day you-you’re going to-oh, fuck!” You give up, crying out and scratching at his back as he pulls an orgasm out of you with far too much ease, groaning in approval as you squeeze around him.
As he helps you ride it out, Logan is watching you writhe helplessly, his red stained hands holding your waist and one of your thighs to the mattress. “Wasn’t just because,” He pants, staring into your big, watery eyes as he fucks you slow and deep, now holding your jaw in one hand so you keep your eyes on him, blood staining your flushed, teary cheeks. “You’re mine, princess, I gotta keep you safe.” He tells you, kissing your trembling lips and swallowing your weak cry as you near a second release. “You’re still mine. Always. Mine.”
His thrusts increase in speed and you arch beneath him, gasping as one large arm wraps around your waist to keep your trembling body pressed to his. Your release takes over and your arms wrap securely around his broad shoulders as you cry his name and clench with a wet sound around his cock. “Oh, Logan!” You sob, gasping through your moans as he keeps going, chasing his own release through yours. “Oh, fuck!”
“Shit,” Logan grunts, panting into the crook of your neck as his load spurts in thick ropes inside your squelching walls. “Fuck, princess,” He shudders as he sinks into you slow, deep to hear his mess stuffed in you. “Let me stay. Please.” He begs, breathing heavily as he peppers your neck and shoulder with desperate kisses. “Please?”
Say no, he just nearly killed someone, you think to yourself as you caress his back, feeling the subtle spasms in his large muscles just beneath your palms. But he’s here, with you, coddling you and comforting you the best way he knows how, reclaiming your body the way you’ve missed.
“Just tonight,” You whisper, your voice hoarse from crying his name, and you caress his cheek as he pulls back to look down at you. “And you need to shower, you’re all filthy.”
“Didn’t hear any complaints till now.” Logan teases, kissing your nose and making you roll your eyes. “You comin’ with me?” He asks and you find yourself nodding because while you can’t be with him, Logan sure makes your life easier, even safer.
i’m obsessed with ex bf logan. can we please get a fic about when ex logan finds out that reader was physically hurt by someone. (doesn’t have to be crazy if you don’t feel comfortable) he goes absolutely feral on whoever hurt them. love you!!!!! 🥰😘
I am always happy to bring back ex!logan for some nonsense!
Make It Right (Logan Howlett)
A/N: ex!logan x princess!reader, angst, comfort, mentions of SA, mentions of violence and blood, dark!logan, possessive!logan, mature audiences only!!!
“Want to get out of here?”
In hindsight, you should’ve said no.
You should’ve found your friends and told them you were ready to leave the gallery and head back to the apartment. Eric just didn’t seem like the type, not while he was carrying your purse or holding your hand while guiding your step through the art exhibit. You had thought you were safe, that it would be like every other night when you hooked up with him, and that’s when your guard had slipped.
Now, you were back in your bedroom, sniffling while looking in the vanity mirror at the dark marks on your neck where he had gripped too tightly. Your stomach felt heavy with regret and you cried as you remembered how he had dismissed you with a “just a little longer” when you begged him to stop.
You sniffed again, dropping the small ice pack onto the vanity and reaching for your cellphone where it was plugged into the charger, quickly finding his contact. “Please pick up.” You whispered to yourself, wiping your cheek with your sleeve as you listened to the first ring, waiting on the nex-
“Princess?” Logan’s voice came immediately, alert and ready. You almost cried right then at the comfort his voice alone gave you and he heard the small, stifled sob. “I’m coming over.”
Of course you didn’t need to say a word. You never had to do anything for him to show up.
When Logan got to your apartment, you greeted him at the door with a small frown and watery eyes that broke his heart. His instincts sharpened immediately as he stepped into your space, noticing the bruises on your neck. Your scent was off, ruined by something perverse and fear, your body still shaking as if you were feverish, but as Logan pulled you into his arms you felt cold and fragile.
“You were right.” You cried into his chest and Logan exhaled slowly through his nose as he held you tight. “Eric-he-he-sniff-Logan, he hurt me.” Your voice was shaking and Logan wanted so badly to run out and kill him.
You needed him right now, though, and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity to be in your space and comfort you get past him. His arms wrapped safely around you, picking you up and your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he carried you to your bedroom.
On your bed, he sat against the headboard and held you as you buried yourself into his side. Logan kept you close, listening to your soft cries and murmured apologies and explanations.
“Princess,” Logan said after a moment of listening to your heartbreaking voice. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Your heart swelled and you shook your head. “I should’ve listened to you. I keep pushing you away because I’m scared you want more than I’m ready to give, but-” Your breath caught in your throat and forced down your own embarrassment. “But he just took anyway.”
Logan cupped your cheek and gently turned your face so you’d look up at him. His thumb brushed a stray tear away and he searched your eyes before leaning closer and resting his forehead against yours. “He didn’t take anything,” He murmured softly, placing the most chaste kiss to your lips and making you smile weakly. “You’re still mine.”
The whole night, Logan stayed with you. Just cuddling, reassuring you, reminding you why you have yet to find someone that could come close to him. “It didn’t start off scary,” You murmured, somewhere between sleep and remembering. “I thought we were having a good time and then he asked to choke me and he didn’t stop. I should have told him no, but when you and I used to-” You trailed off suddenly, your cheeks burning, and Logan couldn’t help a small chuckle.
“It wasn’t the same, huh?” He asked, kissing your head and rubbing your arm comfortingly as you shook your head. “They don’t know how to touch you like I do, princess. You can’t trust any man out there with things like that, you know that, don’t you?” He asked and you nodded slowly, looking up at him with big, reddened eyes. “That’s only for me, when you’re in the mood, right?”
“Right.”
“My girl,” He smiled, kissing your nose and pulling the blanket over both of you. “Get some sleep, I’ve got you. Not going anywhere tonight.” And you slept soundly in his arms, just like when you were his, while he lay awake and promised never to let harm fall on you again.
When morning came, Logan was downstairs making you a small breakfast, sure that you wouldn’t have much of an appetite. “Thanks for coming by.” You said as he placed a glass of orange juice by your plate. “It meant a lot.”
“You gonna break up with him?” Logan asked and you shook your head in mild amusement towards his bluntness.
“We weren’t exactly together, just casually hooking up.” You murmured, almost embarrassed that you were telling your ex-boyfriend that you were exploring the dating pool again and this is how it turned out. “But, yeah, I’m not going to be seeing him anymore.”
Logan took a slow sip from his coffee, watching you eat slowly over the rim of his mug before he set it down. “Can I come back tonight?”
“You don’t waste any time, do you?” You teased softly, biting back a small smile.
“Not when it comes to you,” He said seriously, reaching across the table and taking your hand in his, kissing your knuckles before adding, “Hate the thought of you alone right now, maybe we can order in and watch that series we had started a while ago.”
Your heart fluttered at the idea, but you didn’t want him to notice your eagerness so you shrugged. “If you’re not busy, the company would be nice.” Logan chuckled at your attempt at nonchalance.
“C’mere,” He leaned over to kiss your cheek, cupping your face in his hands and sighing like looking at you alone gave him more energy than his black coffee. “You call me if you need anything until then, yeah, princess?” You nod firmly, promising him, and he kisses you gently before getting up to leave.
Maybe it was the incident from the night before that made you appreciate the safety and boundaries he provided. It was familiar and you knew his intentions. While Logan was often a little controlling during your relationship, he never did things to hurt you or just order you around, he did the things he did to keep you safe from the real threats. You know that now.
“Logan?” You call after him as he’s putting on his leather jacket. Logan looks over at you, fixing his collar, and you hesitate. Maybe you don’t want to know where he’s about to go, maybe you should just let him so you have deniability. “You’re not going to get yourself in trouble, are you?” No, you care about him too much not to make sure he isn’t thinking of making a bad choice.
Logan smiled and shook his head, clearly lying. “Not today, darlin’, just going to make things right.” You didn’t ask anything else as you watched him go and let out a small sigh before getting ready for class.
While you were on campus, Logan went hunting.
It wasn’t hard to find Eric. Not after he spent the long hours of the night sniffing the faint trace of him on your skin. It didn’t surprise him that Eric would be at some dirty tattoo shop hitting on girls getting their belly buttons pierced.
“What you lookin’ for today, man?” Eric asked as Logan approached the front counter.
“If I wanted to get my girl’s name in a chest piece, how much would that run me?” Logan asked, leaning onto the counter and sniffing subtly. This was definitely the asshole that hurt you, Logan could pick up your scent on his hands.
As Logan and Eric chatted, Logan was picturing all the ways to hurt him. Maybe he’d break every finger in his hands, or hang him upside down until all the blood rushed to his head and then slit his throat, or maybe Logan would just tie him to the back of the truck and drive until the screaming stopped. The possibilities were endless and Logan was going through everyone one while pretending to haggle over prices.
“Maybe I’ll come back, get a second opinion. What if she doesn’t like it, you know?” Logan said, tapping the counter while Eric shrugged. “You here all day?”
“Nah, I’m out of here at noon, but Lacey does bigger pieces too, she comes in around 2pm, if you wanna check her work out for comparison.” Eric offered.
Logan gave a nod. “Thanks.”
When noon came, Logan was still in the lot of the tattoo parlor and he waited for Eric to get in his Charger before peeling out after him. Logan followed from a distance until he watched Eric turn into a trailer park. Once he was seemingly safe and sound in his trailer, Logan parked in the woods a few miles out and walked to the trailer, casually unlocking the door with a claw and letting himself in.
An hour later…
The trailer smelled of blood, the metallic tang filling Logan’s nostrils as he dropped onto the couch and picked up the cigar he had laid out on the coffee table to take a break. His hands were raw, only a little numb, and his knuckles were covered in blood, not his own.
“Please, stop,” Eric sobbed where he was duct taped to his recliner, bleeding from his mouth which was missing a few teeth now. “I-I don’t even know you, man. What-” Eric inhales sharply, obviously struggling to breathe. “What’d I even do to you?”
Logan took a slow drag of his cigar and held it for a moment, the smoke escaping through his nostrils as he stared calmly at Eric, noticing every tremble in the guy’s muscles. “How many times did she ask you to stop?” Logan finally asked, setting his stogie down in the nearby ashtray and standing back up.
Eric swallowed painfully and shook his head, confused and scared. “I-I don’t-who?”
Without warning, Logan punched him again and Eric gasped, spitting out another tooth and crying as Logan suddenly smacked him across the face to get him to look back at him. “You know who the fuck I’m talking about. My girl.” Logan wrapped one hand around Eric’s neck and squeezed. “How many times did she ask you to stop choking her before you did?”
Eric was gasping now, struggling against the duct tape keeping him seated in the recliner, unable to fight back. “Pl-please, I-I’m so-sorry!”
Logan just kept squeezing, his sight nearly blacking out as he pressed on the windpipe beneath his palm, his chest rising and falling with his steady breathing as he watched Eric turn blue in the face. And then he remembered your wide and concerned eyes as you asked him if he was going to get in trouble, and he knew he couldn’t kill Eric, not today.
“You ever lay a hand on her again, you ever so much as walk on the same sidewalk as her, I’m coming back and finishing this. You hear me?” Eric nodded as best he could and Logan let go. Eric coughed up some more blood, spitting up on himself. “Don’t think I have to remind you to keep this to yourself, do I?” Logan asked, slowly letting his claws extract for show.
“No, no, I’ll stay away. I-I promise, please, just-just stop hurting me.” Eric cried silently, mouth crusted with blood and saliva, a pitiful sight really.
“Then we’re all square, bub.” Logan pulled his leather jacket back on and picked up his cigar. His mind now focused on one thing after getting the rage out of his system; seeing you again tonight and making things right between the two of you.
Let me know what you thought and if you would like a second part, kind readers!💚
EX BOYFRIEND LOGAN MAKING US SQUIRT FOR THE FIRST TIME
sorry for yelling 🤭
You have been heard, dear anon!
Come Home, Princess (Logan Howlett) nsfw
A/N: ex-boyfriend!logan x princess!reader, 18+ f!reader, angst, smut, oral f!receiving, fingering, forced squirting, mild dub con
It started with a simple task, one you had barely thought through before you found yourself at Logan’s doorstep. It was something trivial, a book you had left at his place months ago that you borrowed from a friend and now had to get back. Maybe it was something more, an unspoken pull that led you there despite knowing better. You could have just as easily ordered a new copy.
When Logan had answered the door with that same smug smirk, leaning against the frame, looking you over like he was surprised but pleased to see you, you knew you were fucked. “Well, well, well,” He drawled, stepping aside to let you in. “Look who finally came home.”
You huffed, rolling your eyes as you turned to him with arms crossed. “I just need my book.”
Logan arched a brow but didn’t argue, closing the door behind you. “Sure thing, princess, but since you’re already here, why don’t you stay a while?” You hesitated, shifting on your feet. You should have left, but Logan was already heading toward the kitchen, pouring you a drink like you belonged here. Like you’d never left.
It wasn’t long before you found yourself on his couch, drink in hand, listening to him talk like nothing had changed between the two of you. And then he moved closer. “I’ve missed you,” He murmured, his fingers ghosting over your knee before tracing their way up your thigh. You swallowed but didn’t respond, your breath hitching when he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw. You let out a quiet sigh as his lips traveled lower, along the slope of your neck, his stubble grazing your skin. “Say you missed me too,” Logan pleaded, nipping at your collarbone, his hands warm against your hips. You closed your eyes, tilting your head slightly to allow him more access - a betrayal in itself. Instead of answering, you let out a soft, shaky breath. An exhale indicating your surrender. Logan smirked against your skin. “Let me keep you a little longer?”
And so you let him kiss you, let him lead you toward his bedroom, your mouths never parting as you fisted your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Once inside his bedroom, you stopped him, your hands pressing against his chest. “We’re not having sex, Logan.”
“Of course not, sweetheart.” He chuckled, amusement flashing in his dark eyes. His fingers then trailed along the hem of your sweater before tugging it up and over your head, his lips tracing the new skin he exposed.
Piece by piece, he undressed you, taking his time, kissing every inch of you, worshipping you with his lips and hands. And you let him unravel you, let him press you into his bed, let him whisper how beautiful you are as he kissed his way down your body. All the while, Logan stayed dressed. He slid between your thighs, his lips trailing down the inside of your leg, his breath hot against your skin. “Just let me take care of you.” And as his tongue finally met your heated core, you gasped, your fingers twisting into the sheets and you knew you weren’t leaving - not until he was done with you.
Almost an hour in and Logan had been relentless, his tongue and fingers working you over with practiced ease, watching every little movement, every quiver and tremble as he pulled you apart again and again. It was muscle memory for him. He easily remembered how to curl his fingers just right to press into the spot that made you jolt with pleasure. He remembered to suck on your clit when your breath hiccuped in order to push you just a little closer to the edge. His free hand kept your leg over his shoulder, caressing your soft skin while he whispered about how sweet you taste - just like he remembered. Your thighs were shaking, your breath ragged, your body wrecked with pleasure, and Logan was fascinated as always with how easily he could unravel you even after months apart. The way you pulsed around his fingers, the way your release glistened as it dribbled down your folds; he wondered if he could push you further.
“Think you can do it for me, baby?” He asked suddenly, sucking and kissing softly on your swollen bud. You quickly shook your head, pushing on his shoulders with no avail. You knew what he was asking, he had tried once before when you were actually dating. You had stopped him then because you were nervous about doing something so obscene with your boyfriend. “No, Logan.” You stopped him now because you didn’t want to let him believe he could still control you. “You can squirt, sweetheart,” He murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You just don’t know it yet.”
You whimpered, shaking your head. “I can’t.”
Logan smirked, his rough fingers gliding to your oversensitive clit, rubbing slow, firm circles that had your body twitching in response. “You can,” He murmured against your thigh, pressing a few lazy kisses there before sucking a fresh mark into your skin. “And you will.”
Your legs kicked slightly, your body thrashing under the pressure, overwhelmed by the slow but intensifying stimulation. “L-Logan - stop!” You gasped, your hands gripping at his shoulders, your body arching off the mattress.
But Logan didn’t stop. He kept rubbing, his fingers working with precision, his mouth coaxing more desperate whimpers from your lips. “Come on, princess,” He cooed, his voice gentle but commanding. “Give it to me.” You sobbed, your body writhing as the heat built impossibly high, too much, too fast - and then you broke.
A sharp cry tore from your throat as your release hit, your body shuddering violently as liquid gushed from you, soaking his fingers, his wrist, his fucking sheets. Logan groaned, his pupils blown wide as he watched, utterly enthralled by the sight of you coming undone like this. “Fuck,” He rasped, his fingers slowing as he smirked up at you. “Knew you could do it.” You whimpered, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. You turned your face to the side, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Logan grinned, pressing a final, lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh before crawling up the bed and cupping your flushed cheek. “Don’t go hidin’ from me now, princess,” He murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “We’re just gettin’ started.”
You're having a hot shower and either ex boyfriend logan or dark logan sneak in and join you? 😏
A/N: DARK!logan, ex!logan, stalkerish!logan, 21+ f!reader, angst, semi-public sex, shower sex, NON CON, these trigger warnings are here for a reason, kind readers, please don’t read anything you won’t be comfortable with🙏
The rhythmic pounding of her feet against the treadmill fills the gym, blending seamlessly with the beat of her music. She’s in her zone, her focus on the steady burn in her legs and the satisfying drip of sweat sliding down her back. Her fitted workout clothes cling to her curves, emphasizing her toned figure, and her skin glistens under the fluorescent lights.
She doesn’t notice Logan walk in at first, but he notices her immediately. The scent of her sweat and faint traces of her arousal hit him like a punch to the gut, making his chest tighten and his hands itch with need. She’s ovulating and that fact alone sets a fire within him. He stops in the doorway, his sharp eyes raking over her as she moves. The sway of her hips, the bounce of her chest, the strength in her legs - it all sends a primal ache through him. Logan doesn’t even try to fight it. He strides into the gym, his footsteps heavy on the floor, and she senses him before she sees him. His presence is undeniable - strong, commanding, and utterly unignorable.
She slows the treadmill slightly, pulling out one earbud as her eyes dart to him. He’s standing near the free weights, his intense gaze fixed on her like a predator sizing up his prey. Her heart skips, and she feels a mix of fear and relief - it’s just Logan. A part of her is relieved because of the familiarity, another annoyed that he’s now resulted to stalking her at her local gym.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt, darlin’,” Logan says, his voice a low rumble that makes her stomach twist. “Just here to get a workout in.”
She swallows, her throat suddenly dry. She knows she could leave, call it a day and avoid the tension crackling between them, but she doesn’t. “It’s a public gym.” She replies, her tone neutral as she picks up the pace again.
“Sure is,” Logan says, his lips twitching into a smirk as he picks up a pair of dumbbells. “You’re making it a little hard to focus with a view like this though.”
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t respond, focusing instead on the numbers on the treadmill screen. She feels his eyes on her, though, tracing the curve of her legs, the dip of her waist, the rise and fall of her chest. Logan starts his workout, moving through a set of curls, his muscles flexing with each deliberate motion. She tries not to look, but her resolve weakens every time he grunts or exhales, the sound rough and guttural.
People filter in and out of the gym, doing what they came to do, somewhat aware of the tension between them as it is too palpable not to feel. Logan’s gaze never strays far from her, and anyone who walks in feels the oppressive heat between them, leaving quickly after their workouts to avoid the awkward atmosphere.
When Logan moves to the bench press, she catches herself sneaking glances. He lies back, his broad chest heaving as he lifts the barbell with ease. Sweat drips down his skin, glistening under the lights, and when he pulls off his soaked tank top, revealing his burly, broad torso, she swears under her breath.
Logan notices. He sets the barbell down with a heavy clank and sits up, his sharp eyes catching hers. A slow, cocky grin spreads across his face as he stands, stretching lazily as he makes his way toward her. She steps off the treadmill, trying to steady her breathing as he corners her near the wall. His scent - earthy, musky, undeniably him - wraps around her, and her pulse quickens. “See somethin’ you like, darlin’?” Logan asks, his voice a low growl as he tilts her chin up with a single finger, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She snaps, though her voice trembles slightly as she moves his hand away.
Logan chuckles, his hand sliding to the side of her throat instead, his thumb brushing over her pulse. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but I can hear your heart racin’. I can feel your pulse. I can smell the way you react to me.”
Her breath hitches, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “You’re the worst.” She mutters, her voice barely audible.
Logan leans closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispers, “At the end of the day, you’re just a woman with urges. I’m the only one who knows exactly how to take care of them, aren’t I?.” Her knees weaken at his words, heat pooling low in her stomach despite herself. She wants to push him away, to tell him to leave her alone, but her body betrays her momentarily, leaning into his touch instead. Logan pulls back just enough to look at her, his hand still resting firmly on her throat. “Say the word, princess’,” He murmurs, his voice low and rough. “I’ll give you exactly what you need.”
She glares at him, her lips parted as she struggles to find the words. She knows this is a dangerous game, that Logan’s intensity will consume her if she lets it. As his thumb brushes over her racing pulse, she realizes she doesn’t quite know the man he has become now. “Logan…” She whispers, her voice trembling with both anger and desire.
His grin widens, his free hand sliding to her waist as he presses her back against the wall. “That’s all I needed to hear, sweetheart.”
The gym fades away, the world narrowing to just the two of them as Logan closes the space between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that’s equal parts possessive and desperate. Her body trembles as he pushes her against a nearby wall and she shakes her head as he moans against her lips. “No, stop.” She presses her hands into his chest, but he doesn’t budge. Logan cups her face and deepens the kiss, biting on her bottom lip and she whimpers as she uses her full strength. “No, Logan!” She snaps at him and he growls as he is forced to take a step back.
“C’mon, princess,” Logan’s hands clench and unclench at his sides, aching to touch more of her. “Just one more time.”
“No, Logan,” She says, creating more distance between them. “It’s never just one more with you.”
And with that, she turned away from him, leaving him alone in the gym. She had barely made it to the showers, her legs shaky from the workout and the tension he had stirred in her. The hot water hit her skin, but it did little to ease the fire burning beneath it. She leaned against the tile, letting the water cascade down her body as she tried to compose herself.
Don’t think about him. Don’t think about his stupid muscles, or the way he looks at you, or how he touched you -
The faint clinking of weights echoed through the gym, a reminder that Logan was still nearby. She cursed under her breath, vowing to finish quickly and leave before he could corner her again. As she rinsed the sweat from her body, however, she felt it - the heavy, unmistakable presence of him. Logan had been unable to focus after she had left for the showers, her scent still clinging to the air, taunting him. His chest heaved with frustration and want, and after a few minutes of futile attempts to distract himself, he gave in. He wandered toward the showers, his footsteps slow and deliberate. When he saw her silhouette through the glass, the steam curling around her, he froze, watching her for a moment. Her damp hair clung to her back, the water streaming down the curves of her body, and the ache in his chest grew unbearable.
Logan didn’t bother to rationalize his decision as he stripped off the remainder of his gym shorts and stepped into the shower behind her. She jumped slightly when she felt strong hands grip her hips, pulling her back against a warm, solid chest. She gasped, her body tensing as Logan’s familiar scent - now mixed with sweat and soap - washed over her. “Logan…” She breathed, her voice trembling.
“Relax, darlin’,” He murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of her neck. “Just couldn’t stay away. Not after seein’ you like that.” Her heart pounded as his hands roamed her body, his calloused fingers tracing the curves of her waist and thighs. His lips pressed against her neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to her shoulder. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He whispered, his voice rough with need. “The way you move, the way you smell…I couldn’t possibly pass this chance up, princess.”
She shivered, her resolve wavering as his hands and lips ignited a fire she couldn’t extinguish. “Logan, don’t…don’t do this to me.” She pleaded, her voice soft but filled with conflict. How many times would he continue to take space she no longer held for him?
“You don’t want me to stop,” He said, his hand sliding up to gently grip her jaw, turning her head so he could kiss along her jawline. “I can feel it, darlin’. You want this as much as I do.”
“I don’t…I can’t,” She whispered, her body was tense yet she still leaned into his touch, trembling as his teeth grazed her neck. “Please, not here.”
When her hands came up to brace against the shower wall, Logan took it as the permission he needed. He pressed her harder against the cold tile, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself behind her. The swollen head of his cock nudged between her thighs and he groaned as her tight hole kissed his tip. Her gasp turned into a muffled cry of as he slid into her without pause, his hand quickly coming up to cover her mouth. “Quiet now, sweetheart,” He growled. “Don’t want anyone thinkin’ I’m hurtin’ you.” Logan didn’t hold back, his thrusts deep and demanding as he groaned against her ear, the tightness of her core snug around his throbbing length while she shook her head. “God, I missed this,” He murmured, his lips brushing against her shoulder. “Missed you, princess. No one else feels like you.” She whimpered against his hand, her body trembling from the cold tile at her front and the intensity of his movements behind her. The slap of his hips against her ass echoed in the showers, the water and their arousal making a lewd chorus every time their skin met in harsh claps. She rested her forehead against the tile and cried from how weak she was for him, how she pathetically let him do whatever he wanted just because of their shared history.
As Logan’s hand slid to gently grip her throat, she cried out, her cunt clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed over her. “Logan, please!” She gasped, her voice trembling.
“Please what, darlin’?” He growled, his lips against her ear, his other hand kneading the wet, plush skin of her ass as he spread her open for himself.
“Don’t…don’t finish inside me.” She begged, her voice soft and pleading.
Logan’s movements slowed for a moment, his forehead pressing against her shoulder as he groaned. “I need to,” He muttered, his voice rough. “I need this. Need to feel you, all of you.” She cried weakly, bracing herself against the wall as Logan’s thrusts grew erratic, his growls vibrating against her skin. With a final, low moan, he spilled into her, his grip on her hips tightening as he shuddered with release.
The water had turned cold by the time Logan pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her trembling body to keep her warm. He kissed the side of her neck, his breath heavy and uneven. “Take me back, princess,” He murmured, his voice soft but filled with desperation. “I can’t do this without you.”
Her chest tightened as she pulled away slightly, turning to meet his gaze. “Logan…” She began, her voice trembling. “I can’t.”
His jaw clenched, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hope. “Why not?”
“Because you’re too much,” She said quietly, stepping out of his hold. “You scare me.”
Her words hung in the air like a final blow, and Logan didn’t stop her as she wrapped herself in a towel and left the shower, leaving him standing under the cold water, broken and alone.
There have been many asks for the non con situations and this is my attempt at easing you all into more future non con works because apparently that is what the people want🤣
You are curled up in bed, scrolling through your phone when Logan’s name lights up your screen. The message is short, teasing, and clearly sent with a whiskey-fueled confidence.
Logan: You up, princess?
You: Logan, it’s midnight.
Logan: Didn’t ask what time it was. Asked if you were up.
You: What do you want?
Logan: Just wanted to see if my favorite girl was thinkin’ about me.
You sigh, staring at the screen. His words send a familiar warmth through you, but the tone of his messages is unmistakable. He’s been drinking again, and that fact sends a pang of disappointment through your chest. You debate ignoring him, but when another text comes through, you find yourself responding.
Logan: Come on, darlin’. Don’t leave me hangin’.
You: Are you drunk?
Logan: Maybe. It’s only a little. Don’t get mad.
You: You said you were cutting back, Logan.
Logan: I’ll stop if you send me somethin’ sweet to think about tonight.
Your breath catches as you read the words, the innuendo heavy in his tone. You should shut him down, tell him to go to bed and sleep it off, but the thought of him alone and drinking gnaws at you.
You: You need to stop drinking for yourself, not because of some picture.
Logan: You’re the best motivation I’ve got.
You shake your head, torn between irritation and the familiar heat his words stir in you.
Logan: Bet you’re layin’ there in somethin’ soft. Bet it’d feel so good when I’m taking it off of you.
You: Logan, seriously.
Logan: Seriously thinkin’ about you, baby.
Your fingers hover over the keyboard, your resolve slipping as the memory of his voice, his touch, floods your mind. You wish his words didn’t have such an effect on you, but there’s no denying the way your pulse quickens.
You: You’re impossible.
Logan: And you’re beautiful. What’re you wearin’, sweetheart?
You: Not telling you.
Logan: Let me guess. Somethin’ that’d drive me wild, yeah?
Your cheeks flush, your legs shifting beneath the covers as your body reacts to his words despite your better judgment.
Logan: You know I’d be there if you wanted me. Just say the word.
Your heart skips at the thought of him showing up, whiskey on his breath and that rough, possessive edge in his gaze. You know it’s a bad idea, but you also knows you don’t want him drinking alone tonight.
You: I’m not calling you over if you’ve been drinking.
Logan: Then call me over to stop me.
The simplicity of his words hits you harder than you expect. You sigh, running a hand through your hair before replying.
You: You’re a mess, Logan.
Logan: But I’m your mess.
Your lips curve into a reluctant smile, your fingers hesitating over the screen. You know you shouldn’t let him reel you back in like this, but the thought of him alone, spiraling, makes your chest ache.
You: Stay on the phone with me, then. At least until you’re done drinking.
Logan: You just want to keep me outta trouble.
You: Someone has to.
As the conversation shifts to a phone call, Logan’s tone softens, though the heat in his words doesn’t entirely fade. He tells you about his day, his voice growing quieter as the night wears on. You listen, your own irritation melting into something gentler.
You know he’s flawed, know he’s messy, but as he mutters your name, his voice thick with longing, you can’t help but wish he was beside you. You shift against the pillows, phone pressed to your ear, heart pounding in time with Logan’s ragged breathing on the other end of the line. The bar noises have faded, and it sounds like he’s stepped outside - quieter now except for the rustle of wind. You’re acutely aware that you’ve crossed into dangerous territory, letting old habits resurface in the space of a single conversation.
“You still there?” His voice is low, all rough edges and subdued need.
“Yeah,” You whisper, trying to steady your own breathing. “I’m here.”
Their is a lapse of silence for a moment, the weight of past memories tangling in the air. It’s Logan who breaks it, his voice husky with longing.
“Remember that time in my garage…?” He begins, and you know exactly which moment he’s talking about. You can practically smell the motor oil and rust, feel the cool metal of the car hood pressed against your back.
You close your eyes. “When we almost got caught by your neighbor? Yeah, I remember.”
A soft chuckle vibrates through the phone. “You were wearing that tight tank top, your hair all messy from riding on my bike. Couldn’t help myself. Could barely keep quiet when he walked by.”
Your face heats at the memory - Logan’s frantic mouth on yours, the way your heartbeat thundered as you bit down on your lip to stay silent. “We had to duck behind the car,” You add, voice growing breathy. “You told me to stop making so much noise, and I wanted to kill you and kiss you at the same time.”
“Miss the way you had your legs around my waist,” He teases, the rumble of his voice shooting a current of heat through you. “Wish we hadn’t had to stop.”
You swallow. “We were so close, Logan…”
“Yeah.” He falls quiet, as though caught up in the memory. The silence hangs heavy before he exhales. “And the kitchen at the club - remember that?”
You bite your lip, recalling the night the two of you snuck in for a midnight snack after his shift only to end up tangled in the corner by the fridge, the hum of the appliance almost masking your gasps. “You lifted me onto the counter, said something about dessert being sweeter on my lips.”
“And you tasted like sugar and adrenaline,” He murmurs, his tone saturated with nostalgia. “I can still taste you, darlin’.”
A flurry of electricity skitters down your spine. You hate how easily he can drag you into the past, how your body reacts to the sound of his voice describing these moments you’d vowed to bury.
“Logan…” You mean it as a warning, but it comes out a plea.
“C’mon, princess,” He coaxes. “Talk to me. Tell me…do you still get that little hiccup in your breath when you - ”
Your throat works. “Sometimes,” You admit. “Yes.”
He inhales sharply, like your confession is the oxygen he needs. “Touch yourself,” He suddenly rasps. “Let me hear you. Let me know I’m not crazy for missing this.”
You tense. “I…”
“Please,” He urges. “I don’t want another drink. I just want you.”
Your heart twists. The idea of him guzzling down more alcohol makes your stomach churn, so you find yourself giving in, sliding a hand under the hem of your sleep shirt. “Okay,” You breathe. “But…keep talking. Don’t stop.” Your fingertips graze your already soaked folds underneath your panties, sending a shock of pleasure through you. You close your eyes, letting Logan’s whiskey-soaked voice guide you.
“You remember how I kiss your neck,” He murmurs, presumably imagining your body the way he knows it best. “And how you arch into me every time I bite that soft spot on your collarbone?”
You let out a quiet gasp. “Yes,” You breathe. “I can feel it - like a ghost of it - right now.” Your skin rises with goosebumps at the phantom sensation as you’re toying with your clit.
“Give me details, darlin’. How do you feel?”
Your cheeks burn, but you hand obeys. You press your palm flat against the warmth building in your core, feeling the jolt of arousal that’s as familiar as the memory of his lips. “Sensitive,” You murmur, swallowing thickly. “My legs are trembling.”
He groans. “Does it feel as good as when I touch you myself?”
It’s a question that makes your heart clench. You hesitate, knowing the answer. “No,” You admit finally, your voice catching. “You always knew exactly how to touch me…better than I ever could.”
“That’s right,” He says softly, “’Cause you’re mine, princess. Always have been.”
You shut your eyes against the dizzy spin of conflicting feelings accompanied by the stimulus of rubbing your aching bud. Not anymore, you think, but you can’t say it out loud. Not when his voice is the only thing keeping him from another drink. Heat coils within you, winding tighter with every word he speaks, with every memory of how he’d maneuver your body, the sensations of his lips trailing across your skin. You push your fingers deeper, letting out a breathy moan that he catches with a sharp intake of breath on the other end.
“Logan,” You choke out, so close now, “I - ”
“I know,” He murmurs. “Go ahead, baby. I’m right here.”
At his urging, the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a trembling hiccup as your thighs clench around your own hand. Your body goes taut, then slack, a soft cry escaping your lips that you can’t quite stifle. The phone crackles with his uneven breathing, and you can almost sense him closing his eyes, imagining what it would feel like if he were there to hold you through the aftershocks.
“That’s it,” He says, relief coloring his tone. “Thank you, princess. You sounded so damn sweet, just like I remember.”
A silence stretches on the line, punctuated by the throb of your pulse and Logan’s ragged exhale. Finally, you find your voice. “Logan, promise me you’ll call a cab…or a friend…something. Don’t get behind the wheel.”
He sighs. “Yeah. I promise. I’ll head out right now. Cab or nothin’.”
You release a shaky breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Good,” You say softly, exhaustion washing over you. “Get home safe, okay?”
“I will,” He murmurs, voice gentler now. “And…thanks for talking me down.”
Your throat tightens. “You’re welcome,” You whisper, unsure what else to say. Goodnight? I love you? Don’t do this again? You settle on a subdued, “Take care of yourself, Logan.”
He lingers, as though waiting for something else, but when you remain silent, he exhales quietly. “Night, darlin’.”
When the line goes dead, you stare at your phone, your emotions in chaos. The unmistakable warmth of post-release still lingers, along with the unwanted reminder that Logan still has that power over you, an invisible tether that refuses to break. You drag a hand through your hair, willing your racing heart to slow. Damn it, you think. He’s not supposed to matter this much anymore. But tonight, you couldn’t deny him - or yourself.
As you settle back against the pillows, guilt and longing swirl together, making your chest ache. Eventually, exhaustion claims you, but your dreams are filled with memories that taste like whiskey, regret, and the undeniable pull of Logan’s voice whispering your name in the dark.
A little something angsty with ex!logan, my beloved😌
do u think ex!Logan knows when his girls menstrual cycle starts & ends?
A/N: ex-boyfriend!logan, cocky!logan, angst, smut, unprotected sex
Ex-Boyfriend!Logan definitely has kept track of your cycle. Even when you’ve been apart for a few months, whenever he’s near you again he can smell what stage you’re in. He can smell if you’re taking the birth control pills, he can smell if you’re ovulating, he knows and he uses this information it to his full advantage.
Logan’s heightened senses have always been both a gift and a curse, especially when it comes to you. Your scent is something he could never escape, even when you weren’t together. It clung to his clothes, haunted his thoughts, and made it impossible for him to move on. But what made it worse was knowing when your body was at its most responsive - when you were ovulating, your scent subtly changing, your pheromones spiking in a way that drove him to the brink of madness.
During your break ups, Logan would catch your scent unexpectedly - at the bar where he worked, when he “accidentally” runs into your favorite cafe, or in passing your place - and it would hit him like a freight train. The knowledge that you were at your most fertile, that you were probably feeling that same undeniable pull, was torture. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you, about the way your body had always responded to his touch.
At times, his obsession got the better of him. He’d find excuses to see you, showing up under the guise of needing to talk or dropping off something you’d “forgotten.” He’d charm his way into your space, testing your patience with his easy grin and teasing remarks. “You gonna let me in, or you gonna make me stand out here all night?” He’d ask, leaning against your doorway, his gaze smoldering.
You would roll your eyes but eventually relent, letting him in with a warning not to overstay his welcome. But Logan knew exactly what he was doing. He could sense the shift in your mood, the way your guard would drop little by little as he got closer. His words would grow softer, his touch lingering, until the tension between the two of you snapped, pulling you both under.
Tonight, it starts like it always does - Logan shows up at your door unannounced, leaning casually against the frame with that cocky smirk that always makes your stomach flip. He has a knack for knowing when you’re at your weakest, both physically and emotionally, and tonight is no different.
“What do you want, Logan?” You ask, your voice sharp but lacking real conviction.
He shrugs, his piercing gaze sweeping over you. “Just thought I’d check on you. Been a while.”
You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m fine. You can go now.”
But he doesn’t move. Instead, he steps closer, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that always gets to you. “You look good, princess. Way better than the way I’ve been imagining you.”
You try to ignore the way his words make your pulse quicken, but it’s impossible when his scent and presence are so overwhelming. You know you should push him away, send him home like you always do, but the heat in his eyes and the way he steps closer make it hard to resist.
“Logan,” You warn, your voice faltering slightly.
He smirks, closing the gap between you and brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “What? Can’t a guy miss his girl?”
“I’m not your girl.” You mutter, turning your head to avoid his gaze. But he doesn’t let you escape. His hands find your waist, pulling you against him, and before you can protest, his lips are on yours. It’s rough and desperate, like he’s been starving for you, and despite your better judgment, you kiss him back.
You barely make it to your bedroom before Logan’s tugging your clothes off, his touch both gentle and possessive. By the time you’re tangled together on your bed, your resolve is crumbling. His cock slides into you with a familiarity that’s both thrilling and comforting, you feel safe and taken care of when you’re in his arms, irritating as the notion might be.
“You know I’ve been thinkin’ about you, right?” He murmurs against your neck, his arms caging you in as he’s leaving open mouth kisses along your neck and collarbones.
“Logan - ”
“You’re all I think about, princess,” He continues, his voice low and full of heat as your pussy clenches around him just the way he’s been dreaming about for the last month and a half. “Every damn day, every damn night. Drives me crazy knowing you’re not being taken care of - not the way I do it.”
You try to focus on the pleasure, on the way his lips and hands make your body burn, but his words sink in too deeply, stirring up emotions you’ve been trying to bury. “Stop talking.” You whisper, pulling him into a kiss to silence him.
But Logan isn’t easily deterred. He pulls back just enough to smirk down at you, his hips pressing against yours in a way that makes you gasp. “What’s the matter? Don’t like hearin’ how much I want you?”
“Logan,” You whine, but it’s already too late. He knows exactly what you need, what you like, and he’s not about to let up.
“You missed me too,” He growls, his voice dripping with confidence as he moves inside you, expertly hitting the spots that make you abandon your morals and principles. “I can feel it. The way you’re squeezin’ me, I can smell it on you - you need this just as bad as I do.” You shake your head, biting your lip to keep from agreeing, but Logan’s relentless. He leans down, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Say it. Say you missed me.”
You try to fight it, to stay in control, but the way he’s touching you, filling you, and pushing you closer to the edge makes it impossible. “I missed you.” You finally breathe, your voice trembling.
Logan grins, his arms sliding underneath your shaking frame to keep you pressed against him as he buries himself deeper into you. “That’s my girl.”
The words send a shiver down your spine, and you’re suddenly clinging to him, your nails digging into his back as you beg him for more. “Don’t stop, Logan. Please.”
“Never,” He growls, his thrusts becoming rougher, more urgent. “You’re mine, princess. Always.”
And in that moment, as you fall apart beneath him, you know he’s right. You’ll always come back to him, no matter how hard you try to stay away.
Those nights, when you finally give in, are everything to him. He’d savor every second, memorizing the way you feel, taste, and move against him. Even if you kick him out the next morning, even if you swear it won’t happen again, Logan will leave satisfied - at least for a little while.
But deep down, it’s never enough. It never will be. Logan doesn’t just want your body; he wants all of you. And every time he leaves your bed, it only fuels his determination to win you back for good. Because as far as he is concerned, you are his, whether you want to admit it or not.
A/N: ex-boyfriend!logan, dark!logan, mutant!reader(can slow the momentum of objects/people), 18+ f!reader, angst, smut, situationship with pietro maximoff, outdoor sex, dubious consent (let’s not worry too much about the timeline, just know it is in the x-men universe haha)
You broke up with him again.
Logan tells himself he doesn’t care. You and him have been through this song and dance before - together, apart, rinse and repeat. But now, seeing you and Pietro, the so-called Quicksilver, sharing laughs over some inside joke that Logan will never know, his jaw clenches so tight he hears the crack of his own teeth.
At first, he convinces himself it’s nothing. You’re too smart to fall for someone like that, a show-off with a cocky grin and an ego as fast as his feet. But as days pass, he notices you paired together more often during missions, lingering too close in the common areas, and worst of all, your laugh - the kind that used to be reserved for him.
“Something on your mind, old man?” Pietro smirks one evening, leaning casually against the doorway of the kitchen as Logan is making a sandwich. “You keep looking at me like you’re about to put me six feet under.”
“Wouldn’t take me that long.” Logan growls, not even glancing up from his task.
Pietro laughs, a little too carefree for Logan’s liking. “Relax. Y/N and I are just friends.”
“Friends don’t make eyes at each other like that.” Logan snaps before he can stop himself.
“Eyes?” Pietro raises a brow, then smirks knowingly. “Ah. Got it. You’re jealous.”
The sharp SNIKT of Logan’s claws extending sends Pietro out of the kitchen in a flash, his chuckles echoing behind him, leaving Logan to stew in his own frustration.
Later, when you find Logan alone in the gym, beating the life out of a punching bag, you lean against the doorframe with a familiar smirk tugging at your lips. “Word is you’ve been brooding around the mansion again.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan grunts, fists connecting with the bag in a steady rhythm.
You stride closer, arms crossed, clearly enjoying yourself. “You don’t get to act possessive, Logan. We’re not together anymore.”
Logan stops, the bag swinging back and forth as he turns to face you. “Doesn’t mean I like watchin’ you cozy up to someone like him.”
“Someone like him?” You echo, tilting your head. “You mean someone who doesn’t treat me like a ticking time bomb?”
He steps closer, his voice low. “You think I don’t care, Y/N? ‘Cause I care a hell of a lot more than that speedster does.” Logan pauses, his eyes searching yours. “I just ain’t good at showin’ it.”
Your smirk softens, and for a moment, the two of you are caught in a charged silence. Then you shake your head and step back. “Figure yourself out, Logan. Until then, you don’t get a say in who I spend my time with.” You walk out, leaving Logan with nothing but the faint scent of your perfume and the lingering ache of knowing you’re right.
Late one night, Pietro's fingers trail lazy circles over your bare thigh, his lips brushing against your temple as the soft glow of your camera illuminates the room. You’re curled against him, your body warm and familiar, your focus on the images flashing across the small screen. He watches you with a faint smirk, enjoying the rare softness in your expression.
"You really are obsessed with that thing, huh?" He teases, nudging your leg with his knee.
You hum, scrolling through pictures of him. Some are candid - his crooked grin, the way his silver hair falls into his eyes. Others are more intimate, catching him sprawled across your bed, smirking up at you as if he owns the moment. "You don't seem to mind when it's pointed at you," You fire back, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.
He chuckles, his hand sliding further up your thigh. "Can you blame me? You're capturing my best angles."
Your about to reply when the next image makes you pause. It's an old photo, one of you and Logan. Your breath catches ever so slightly, and Pietro doesn't miss it. His playful demeanor shifts as he cranes his neck to see the screen. The photo is candid - you and Logan caught mid-laugh, your free hand on his chest, his on your waist. There's a closeness in the shot that feels undeniable, even to Pietro.
"Still love him?" He asks, his voice casual but curious.
You don’t answer immediately, your thumb brushing over the edge of the camera. "It's...complicated with Logan.” You says finally, your tone soft but weighted.
Pietro exhales through his nose, leaning back against the pillows. "Complicated. That guy's whole vibe." You glance up at him, a flicker of guilt in your expression, but Pietro's smirk returns as he cups your cheek. "You and me? We don't have to be complicated. We can just...be." His lips brush yours, soft and easy, and you kiss him back, deeper this time, letting the camera slip from your fingers. Your hands slide over his toned chest as you shift onto him, your hair falling around your face as you lean in. Pietro grins up at you, pulling you closer, and before you can protest, he grabs your camera and snaps a picture of you straddling him.
"Pietro!" You laugh, trying to grab it back, but he holds it out of reach, his other hand gripping your hip.
"Hey, fair's fair," He teases. "I've been your muse all night. Time to return the favor."
You’re still laughing when he tosses the camera aside and flips you onto your back, your teasing dissolving into another heated round, uncomplicated and fleeting, but fiery all the same.
One afternoon, Logan leans against the entrance of the Danger Room, arms crossed as he watches you and Pietro spar. He doesn’t announce himself right away, instead letting his gaze flicker between the two of you as you clash - your precision and controlled movements countering Pietro’s speed and cocky unpredictability.
It’s almost funny to watch - the way your power slows him mid-dash, forcing him to adjust on the fly. For a moment, Logan’s almost amused. Almost.
Then Pietro suddenly halts in front of you, his hands finding your waist as the sparring shifts into something far more intimate. Your lips meet his, and Logan’s amusement vanishes, his claws itching to make an appearance.
He clears his throat loudly, the sound sharp and deliberate.
Neither of you flinch.
Pietro’s lips barely leave your before he casts a glance over his shoulder, that trademark smirk firmly in place. “Oh hey, old man. Didn’t see you there.”
Logan’s jaw tightens, and his voice drops to a low growl. “Doesn’t look like much training going on.”
Pietro shrugs, still grinning, and leans back in for another kiss, but you stop him and take his hand, leading him towards the exit as you tilt your head toward the door. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” You say, not taking your eye off Logan until you pass by him.
Logan straightens, his arms falling to his sides, hands balling into fists. “Don’t stop on my account.” He says dryly, though his tone makes it clear he’d very much like for you to stop.
Pietro, ever the smartass, winks at him on his way out, his arm slung casually around your shoulders. “See you around, Logan.”
The sound of Logan’s claws extending echoes through the room, but he doesn’t move. Not yet. Instead, he glares after the speedster, his chest tight with a mixture of anger and something far more complicated. He mutters under his breath as you disappear, his voice gruff and bitter. “Kid’s got no idea how close he came to losin’ those damn legs.”
Late at night, Logan sits in his room, a glass of whiskey in hand as he stares at his phone. He shouldn’t text you. Hell, he knows he shouldn’t. But the thought of you with him - the way you laughed, the way you touched him - eats away at his resolve. With a frustrated sigh, he types out a message.
Logan: I miss you.
Logan: I miss your smart mouth, the way you used to laugh when you got under my skin.
Logan: I miss how you smell. Still in my damn sheets, Y/N.
It takes a minute before your reply comes in, and when it does, it’s not what he expects.
It's a picture.
You in bed, your hair mussed, your lips curved into a playful smile. Pietro is asleep beside you, shirtless, his arm draped casually over your bare waist. The text that follows twists the knife in Logan's chest.
You: I’m with him. We're not getting back together.
Logan stares at the image, his grip tightening on the phone. He could leave it at that. He should leave it at that. But when it comes to you, he's never been good at restraint.
Logan: You're not doing a great job convincing me. You're still texting me back.
Logan: Guess that means you're thinking about me.
He sends it, letting the whiskey embolden him. When your reply comes, it's teasing but sharp, just like you.
You: Maybe I'm just bored.
He huffs a dry laugh, already typing out his next response.
Logan: Yeah? You bored with him, princess? Are you bored enough to talk about how much I wanna put my mouth on you right now?
Logan: 'Cause l'd make damn sure you weren't thinking about him for a second longer.
There's a pause this time, and for a moment, he wonders if he's pushed too far.
Then your response comes in.
You: That's inappropriate, Logan.
His smirk is instant.
Logan: Is it? Doesn't seem like you hate it.
To drive the point home, he snaps a picture - evidence of how much the exchange has affected him. His abs visible, his hand teasingly low, and the unmistakable outline of his erection beneath the sheets. He sends it without hesitation.
Logan: See what you do to me, princess?
Your reply takes longer this time, but when it comes, it's exactly what he expects.
Yana: You're ridiculous.
He can almost hear your laugh as he reads it.
Logan: And yet, you're still here.
You: You're lucky I find your cocky side entertaining.
Logan grins, leaning back against the headboard, his confidence surging.
Logan: You don't just find it entertaining, darling. You like it. And you know where to find me when you're done playing with the kid.
You don’t respond right away, and he knows better than to expect you to admit it. But he can tell, even through the screen, that he's in your head now. And as much as you want to push him away, you’re still letting him in.
The smell of fresh coffee fills the kitchen as you lean against the counter, one hand curled around your mug. You hear him before you see him - the heavy tread of his boots, the low grunt of acknowledgment as he steps inside.
“Mornin’, darlin’.” Logan greets, his voice gruff and warm, but there’s a teasing edge to it that makes your pulse quicken. He stops beside you, leaning casually against the counter, his sharp eyes fixed on you.
You don’t look up, pretending to focus on your coffee. “Morning.”
Logan isn’t one to be ignored. He moves closer, his body brushing yours as he rests his hands flat on the counter, one on either side of you. He leans in, his lips just brushing the shell of your ear. “You didn’t tell me what you thought of that picture I sent you.”
You snort softly, taking another sip of coffee to hide the way your breath hitches. “Didn’t seem like it needed a response.”
Logan chuckles low, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your back. “Is that right? Figured you’d at least tell me how much you liked it.”
You hate how his smooth-talking always gets to you, how his deep voice and the heat of his body so close make your knees feel like jelly. When his lips press against the back of your neck, slow and deliberate, your grip on the mug tightens. “Logan.” You warn, though your voice lacks conviction.
“Yeah?” His hand slides up, skimming over your stomach beneath your shirt, his touch rough and familiar. “How much longer you gonna punish me, huh? You’ve made your point, princess.”
You swallow hard, your free hand snapping up to push his away before he can go further. You turn around, placing the mug on the counter with unnecessary force. “We’re done, Logan.”
He stays close, his eyes locked on yours, intense and unrelenting. “Are we?”
“Yes.” You insist, though the wavering in your voice betrays you.
Logan tilts his head, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “You sure about that? ‘Cause you don’t push me away until it’s already too much. And even then, I see the way you look at me.”
“Logan.” Your tone sharpens, your resolve hardening. “It’s over. You need to move on.”
His expression shifts, the teasing fading as he studies you, his voice softer now. “You love him? Pietro?”
You hesitate for a fraction of a second before answering. “That doesn’t matter.”
Logan’s jaw tightens, his hands falling to his sides. “The hell it doesn’t.”
You straighten, arms crossing over your chest. “What matters is that you and I don’t work. We fight more than we talk, Logan. We’re not good for each other.”
His eyes bore into yours, raw and unyielding. “Maybe not, but don’t pretend this thing between us is just gonna disappear.”
Your breath hitches again, and you hate that he can still get under your skin so easily. “We’re not getting back together.” You say firmly, stepping around him and walking out of the kitchen, your head held high.
Logan watches you go, his fists clenching at his sides as he fights the urge to go after you. The scent of your perfume lingers in the air, and it only makes him want you more. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He mutters to himself, his voice low and determined.
The late afternoon sun filters through the leaves of the tree, casting dappled light over you and Pietro. You kneel in front of him, camera in hand, grinning as you adjusts the lens.
“Come on,” You tease, “Show me some muscle, Pietro. Let me see what you’ve got.”
Pietro smirks, ever the performer, flexing dramatically and earning a laugh from you. But the sound of your laughter, the way your dress clings to your legs as you shift on the grass, pulls his focus entirely. In a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and tugs you into his lap, his lips brushing your neck as he murmurs, “Forget the pictures for a minute, huh?”
“Pietro,” You protests softly, glancing around nervously. “We’re outside. Someone could see - ”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” He promises, his hand already slipping under the hem of your dress. “I promise, no one’s coming.”
His playful confidence breaks through your hesitation, and soon enough, your resolve crumbles. His lips murmur compliments along your neck as he unbuckles his belt and you lift yourself on your knees so you can sink down onto his thick cock. Pietro shudders subtly as your warmth wraps around him, his hands smoothing out the skirt of your dress. You’re moving against his lap, gasping as his hands guide your hips. Pietro presses his lips to your ear, whispering praises, telling you how beautiful you look, how perfect you feel.
“Pietro…” You moan softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his hair as he bites softly on your neck while you ride him slow and steady, taking your time.
Neither of you notice the figure standing at the window inside the school.
Logan watches, his teeth clenched, his hands gripping the windowsill so tightly it groans under the strain. His heightened senses pick up every sound, every gasp and whispered word. It burns, and though he tells himself to turn away, he can’t. The image of them together sears itself into his mind, feeding a fire he’s been trying to tamp down for weeks.
A few nights later, once everyone has gone to sleep, Logan waits until the mansion is quiet. He knows it’s reckless, knows he should leave you alone, but the memory of your soft gasps and flushed skin won’t let him. He slips into your room without a sound, the door clicking shut behind him. The anger and tension finally boiled over within him and he simply had to get you back. You stir in your bed, sitting up abruptly when you realize you’re no longer alone.
“Logan…” You starts, your voice sharp, but he’s already moving toward you.
“Don’t,” He murmurs, his voice low and rough. “Don’t tell me to leave. I can’t.”
Before you can protest, his mouth is on yours, demanding and hungry. His hands grip your waist, pulling you against him as he kisses you deeply, like he’s trying to erase the memory of anyone else. You twist away, your hands pushing weakly at his chest. “Stop,” You say, though your voice falters. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you anymore.”
Logan freezes for half a second, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t lie to me,” He growls softly, his lips moving to your jaw, your neck. “You don’t want me, but you can’t stop letting me in. Can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”
“Logan…” Your voice is breathless now, the fight slipping from you with every kiss, every touch.
“Say it,” He whispers, his mouth trailing lower, his hands finding the soft skin beneath your shirt. “Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll leave. But you can’t, can you?”
Your resolve crumbles as his hands and lips overwhelm you, the heat of his body pressing into yours, the familiarity of him consuming you. “I hate you.” You murmur, though it sounds more like a plea than a declaration.
Logan smirks against your hip. “Yeah, but you don’t want me to stop, do you?”
You don’t answer, not with words, but the way your fingers clutch at his shirt, the way your body arches into his touch, tells him everything he needs to know. You don’t even notice the way your legs spread for him as he kisses the top of your thighs. Logan pulls your panties aside, inhaling the scent of your cunt before licking a long stripe over your slit. Your body shudders at the sensation and one of your hands finds it way into his hair while you muffle yourself with your palm. Logan pushes your thighs further apart and he spits on your clit before sucking it into his mouth, nipping lightly which pulls a soft laugh out of you.
By the time he finally pulls you beneath him, you’re whispering the words he’s been dying to hear. “I want you, Logan. I always want you.”
It’s all the permission he needs.
The room is dark, the faint glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains as Logan’s hand moves over your body with practiced confidence. His hips are driving slow and harsh into yours, making you feel every inch of his hard cock dragging against the fluttering walls of your narrow hole. His lips are at your ear, voice low and teasing, every word designed to unravel you. “Can’t ever get enough of me, can you?” He murmurs, nipping at your earlobe. “No matter how many times you say you’re done, you’re always right back here.”
You shudder under his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders as you shake your head weakly. “That’s not true.” You whisper, though the breathy tone betrays you.
Logan chuckles, the sound deep and rough, vibrating through your chest, his thrusts never faltering in their steady rhythm. “No? Then why are you holding onto me like you’re scared I’ll let you go?” He trails kisses down your neck, his hand sliding lower, his grip firm and possessive on your thigh as he hitches it onto his waist. Your protests fade into soft gasps, your body arching into his touch. Logan smirks, leaning in close. “Bet Pietro doesn’t make you feel like this,” He taunts, his lips brushing against yours. “Bet he doesn’t fuck you so good you forget how to breathe.” Your cheeks flush, your grasp on him tightening, but you don’t answer. Logan takes your silence as confirmation, his confidence surging. “You’re shaking for me. Is it that good?” He teases, kissing the top of your head and resting his cheek on your forehead, his cock pounding into you like a punishment.
And then his gaze falls on your camera sitting on the nightstand, and an idea sparks. “Hold on, darlin’.” He mutters, reaching for it. You stir, reaching for him as his warm, heavy body moves slightly away from you, watching him with wide eyes as he powers it on.
“Logan,” You start, your voice barely above a whisper, “What are you doing?”
He settles on his knees, his cock still throbbing inside your aching pussy, his free hand cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes over your lips. “Relax,” He says with a smirk. “Just a little keepsake. Open up for me.” Your hesitation lasts only a second before you part your lips, your body responding to him without question. Logan slips his thumb into your mouth, his gaze darkening as you obediently suck on it, your cheeks hollowing and your lips swollen. “Good girl,” He murmurs, raising the camera and snapping a picture. He pulls the camera back, checking the image with a satisfied grin. “That one’s for Pietro,” He says smugly, his tone laced with amusement. Your eyes widen, your cheeks burning, but before you can respond, Logan thrusts more forcefully into you, sliding a hand lower along your trembling body until his thumb is circling your clit, accompanying the intense plows of his cock.
Almost immediately, Logan coax you closer to the edge. Your head falls back, your breath hitching as his touch drives you higher, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure. Logan watches you intently, his free hand raising the camera once more. “And this one,” He says, his voice softer now, almost reverent, “This one’s for me.” He snaps the picture just as you reach your peak, capturing the way you body trembles, the way your face twists with pure ecstasy. Lowering the camera, Logan sets it aside, leaning down to kiss you deeply. “That’s the look I live for,” He murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with possessive pride as he settles back over you, chasing his own release within the confines of your wet, tight pussy clenching around him. “No one else gets to see you like this, princess. Just me.”
And in that moment, you can’t bring yourself to deny him.
I have been daydreaming about Aaron Taylor-Johnson after watching Kraven the Hunter🤭 Him and Hugh paired together?? My, my, my🫠
Your room is a chaotic mess of laughter, empty wine coolers, and half-eaten snacks as you and your friends lounge across your bed and floor. The late hour and the alcohol coursing through your systems have turned the conversation into a series of giggles and exaggerated stories.
“So, how’s it going with Logan?” One of your friends asks, waggling her eyebrows knowingly.
You roll your eyes and lean back against your pillows, swirling the last of your drink. “It’s not ‘going’ anywhere. We’re not together, and we’re not getting back together. It’s been a little crazy, but ultimately he’s…harmless.”
“Harmless?” Your other friend echoes, wide-eyed. “Girl, he’s obsessed with you. Like, scary obsessed.”
You wave her off. “Logan’s not scary. He’s - persistent, sure, but it’s not like he’s waiting outside my window or something.” You laugh, though a small part of you wonders if that’s entirely true.
Your friends exchange glances, and one of them, emboldened by her buzz, leans in with a sly grin. “You should mess with him. Make him sweat a little.”
You quirk a brow. “Mess with him how?”
“Call him,” Your friend says, grabbing your phone off the nightstand. “Pretend you’re…getting busy. You know, busy with someone else.”
The room erupts into laughter, and you shake your head, taking your phone back. “That’s a terrible idea. One of your worst, I believe.”
“Exactly! Which makes it perfect!” Your other friend chimes in, her cheeks flushed from the wine. “Come on, just one little call. Make some sex noises, hang up, and let him stew.”
You know it’s childish, you know you’ll regret it in the morning, but the alcohol dulls your judgment, and your friends’ laughter is infectious. “Fine,” You say, holding up a finger. “But if he loses his mind, it’s on you.”
Your friends cheer as you dial Logan’s number, putting the call on speaker. It rings twice before his gruff voice answers. “What?” You glance at your friends, who immediately start making exaggerated, deep moaning sounds, stifling their laughter with pillows. You join in, biting your lip to keep from cracking up as you let out a breathy gasp. “Y/N?” Logan’s voice sharpens, his tone suspicious and already laced with irritation. “What the fu -”
Before he can say more, you hang up, tossing the phone onto the bed as your friends collapse into hysterics. “That was so bad.” You groan, covering your face with your hands, your cheeks flushed from a mix of embarrassment and alcohol.
“But his reaction!” One of your friends wheezes. “He sounded so mad.”
You laugh along with them, but there’s a knot of unease forming in your stomach. You know Logan, and you know this isn’t the kind of thing he’ll just brush off.
As the night winds down and your friends start to call their rides, you find yourself staring at your phone, half-expecting it to ring. Logan might be persistent, but he’s also unpredictable - and you’ve just poked a very dangerous bear.
Once your friends have left, you begin getting ready for bed. While you’re in the shower, the faint creak of a door pulls your attention as you rinse the last of the shampoo from your hair. You pause, listening over the steady hiss of the water. Was that the door? You wonder, your heart giving a small, uneasy flutter. Shaking off the thought, you tell yourself it’s nothing - just your imagination fueled by your earlier prank.
After finishing your shower, you wrap yourself in a towel and step into your dimly lit bedroom, your skin still damp. And then, you feel the imposing presence with which you’ve become so familiar and you freeze mid-step when you spot him. Logan is sitting at your vanity, his broad frame half-hidden in the shadows.
“What the hell, Logan?” You exclaim, clutching your towel tighter.
He doesn’t answer immediately, his sharp eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your stomach twist. “You think that little stunt was funny?” He asks, his voice low and even, but the warning in it is unmistakable.
You take a step back, your wet hair dripping onto the floor. “You’re insane. You can’t just break into my house.” But even as you say it, you recall all the other times he’s done this and you mentally scold yourself for not knowing better, for thinking this wouldn’t be a consequence.
“Sit.” Logan commands, patting his thigh as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
You glare at him, your jaw tightening. “No. Get out of my room.”
Logan doesn’t move, his posture relaxed but his eyes narrowing slightly. “I wasn’t asking, princess.”
Your pulse quickens as you look from him to the door, debating your options. But the way he’s watching you - unflinching and unyielding - tells you that you’re not getting out of this without a confrontation you’re not prepared to have. Gritting your teeth, you step forward, hating the way your hands tremble as you lower yourself onto his lap.
The rough material of his jeans presses against your bare thighs as his large hands settle on your hips, holding you in place. “Good girl.” He murmurs, the praise laced with a dark edge.
“Logan, this isn’t funny,” You say, your voice shaky. “You’re scaring me.”
His grip tightens slightly, and he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe you need to be a little scared,” He says. “Might teach you not to mess with me.”
Your heart pounds as he guides your hips, forcing you to grind against him. The friction between the denim material covering his hard on and your sensitive clit sends an involuntary shiver up your spine, and you clench your fists around your towel, torn between defiance and the unwelcome heat pooling in your stomach. Your eyes fall on his chest, tears brimming in your eyes from embarrassment and pleasure. “Stop, please.” You whisper, your voice cracking.
Logan tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You don’t need to play games to get my attention, princess. You’ve had it all along. But now, you’re gonna learn what happens when you push me too far.” You swallow hard, your breath hitching as he continues to guide your movements, his eyes never leaving yours. Your mind screams at you to fight back, to tell him off, but your body betrays you, responding to his touch in ways you don’t understand or want to acknowledge. “You’re not in control here,” Logan growls, his voice low and commanding. “I know what you need, even if you don’t want to admit it.”
His cock grows harder against you, his chest is rising and falling, but his gaze is steady and harsh on yours. Every time you try to look away, Logan forces you to keep eye contact with him. “Please,” You try, placing a shaky hand on his chest. “I’m sorry, Lo.”
“I’m not.” Logan growls, squeezing your jaw with one hand, the other firmly placed in your hip as he forces you to continue getting yourself off on his jean-clad erection.
Your breathing grows ragged, your resolve crumbling under his relentless dominance. You want to hate him for it, but a small, treacherous part of you feels exactly what he’s claiming - that he knows you, that he sees through your defenses in a way no one else ever has. Your lower abdomen tenses up, one hand clutching tightly onto your towel while the other digs into his shoulder. “Logan, don’t do this.” You cry softly, your trembling thighs squeezing around his waist and he only chuckles, thrusting his hips up to meet the involuntary roll of your hips until you cum - your release mixing on his jeans with the water that had dripped off your body.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He coos into your ear as he kisses your jaw, his hands caressing your thighs slowly while you’re coming down from your unwanted high.
When it’s over, you pull away, clutching your towel as you stand. “You’re crazy.” You mutter, your voice thick with a mix of fear and confusion.
Logan leans back in the chair, his expression unreadable but his presence suffocating. “Crazy about you.” He says simply. Then he stands, brushing past you toward the door. “Don’t pull a stunt like that again, princess. Next time, I won’t be so gentle.”
The door closes behind him, leaving you alone in the suffocating quiet, your mind racing with emotions you can’t quite name.
