summary: logan can smell how much you need him as soon as you enter the room. what kind of man would he be to let you go unsatisfied?
warnings: all smut. literally nothing else. dom!logan, he's kind of mean, hint of a humiliation kink, hair pulling (m receiving, logan asks for it), the cat ears get a lot of love, oral (f receiving), fingering, pure filth. if i miss anything pls let me know.
note: andddd i was trying to write a full length fic. i ended up here instead. it's so rushed i apologize. pls logan let me give u a full litter.
He can smell it on you as soon as you walk into the room, and you can see the switch in his body language almost immediately. His shoulders tense, and his hands twitch into loose fists. His jaw ticks.
You’re meeting Logan at a party. He’s been there for a bit already, but you came late. You can’t even remember what the party is, what it’s for, or who’s there. You can only see him. The way he’s got his thighs spread, one foot propped up on the coffee table in front of him, leaving a wide — and perfect — spot for you on his lap. Just like always, Logan’s dripping in sex appeal.
You’ve already been having…a day. All you want and need is his touch, his tongue, his everything. But here you are, trying to keep it a quiet afterthought as you stare at his lap, wishing you could put your lips over his cock and let it grow in the warmth of your mouth.
“Hey,” you say breathily, the syllable hardly leaving your mouth before Logan’s on his feet.
You can’t even register who else is in the room; his broad chest already blocks your vision and he drags you down a hallway, into the laundry room not far from the earshot of the living room.
You’re pretty sure the other party guests share an awkward chuckle at what they think is about to occur, but you can’t tell. Logan’s cologne is all over you, and you think you might slip your own hand into your panties if he doesn’t give you what you want right now.
“Here,” he snarls, “gimme these.” He’s got you shoved up against the washer, the perfect height to sit atop the cool metal.
He grabs your wrists roughly and shoves them into his hair. His teeth are gritted menacingly, but you’re practically keening at the sight of it. You know what’s about to follow. He can be cruel when he’s like this, but you know you’re about to get what you want.
“Now,” he hisses, leaning close to your face. “You’re gonna keep quiet. You’ve already made it obvious enough how fuckin’ desperate you are.”
You whine softly, and his eyes darken. “I wasn’t even here for more than—”
“No, no, no,” he growls. “None of that.” He lets go of one of your wrists, reaching up to squeeze your cheeks together in one hand, hard enough to make the heat rise in your face.
He likes to see you like this — humiliated.
“You’re gonna keep quiet,” he repeats. “Anytime you wanna make a noise, you’re gonna pull.”
He uses the hand still locked onto your wrist as a demonstration. His eyes are hard, and his mouth is still pulled back in that scowl that makes your core weep.
“Pull hard, pup. You know I can take it.”
You try to squeeze your thighs together at the nickname, but he’s standing between your opened legs. It’s so animalistic, so filthy. You never last long when he’s like this.
But all you can see in front of you is Logan, his cruel face just a centimeter from yours.
You lean closer, wanting a kiss, but he denies you as he moves his hands to your hips, digging roughly under the hem of your shirt to unbutton your pants and yank them to your ankles. He lifts your legs so he can slip closer to your core, your legs resting atop his strong shoulders.
Any other day, he might have teased you, might have drawn out your orgasm until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. But this Logan isn’t playing around. He doesn’t have time for this, as he’s made clear enough.
Only in moments like this does he make your desire feel like an inconvenience, like he’s mad at you for being so desperate for his touch. Such a dumb little pup, huh?
But as soon as he sinks his nose into your pussy and inhales the scent of your desire straight from the source, you know he needs this just as badly. That his every thought is plagued with the reminder that your pussy ruins every pair of panties you own because of him.
His tongue goes to work quickly; he’s brutal in his ministrations, and you tighten your grip in his hair.
Bless these fucking cowlicks, you think. Or you might have, had you any mind to form coherent thoughts.
“Insatiable,” he takes a breath and rolls his eyes as he looks up at you, but the sight of your wetness on his beard and nose takes away the exasperation. You can see how his pupils are blown wide.
You open your mouth to let out a moan, but he grunts. “No,” he demands. “Pull.”
So you do. Hard. Your hands card through the rest of his head of thick hair as he dives back to your clit, swirling tight circles around the sensitive bud, practically drinking your arousal right out of you.
Your abdomen tightens, and you know he’s going for speed over anything at this point. He wants to get you off, and do it fast. You claw at his head, and relish in the deep groans that vibrate through your slick folds like an electric shock.
“Logan,” you whisper, “I’m—”
“Yeah, yeah. I fuckin’ know, you dumb slut.”
Your eyes widen and you see white at the edges of your vision, your mouth hanging open as you catch some of his shoulder under your nails, dragging your hands across his skin.
If anything, it spurs him on more. Two of his fingers play at your entrance, and — the mean fucker — he shoves them into your pussy without caring to stretch you out like he normally does.
But it doesn’t matter. He knows you can take it. The stretch is something you chase, something you cherish every time. You reward him with a particularly strong yank on his hair, afraid you might pull it out of his skull.
He starts to let out a groan so loud it might come off as a roar, but then he catches himself and pistons his fingers in and out of you, his dark eyes lifting to hold onto you as he shoves you over the edge and into a leg-shaking orgasm.
Your hands twist in his hair and you just barely hear the high-pitched whine that falls from his lips. It’s almost feline coming from him.
Logan sits still for a second, his eyes still on you as he laps at your pussy softly, an amused smirk on his face when you shiver at the overstimulation.
Finally he stands, feeding his fingers to you, nodding as he watches you lick your ecstasy off his digits.
You catch your breath, still feeling wobbly. Your eyes catch on the bulge in his jeans, and you reach a tired hand for his belt.
He chuckles, and it’s almost like he’s mocking you. “Oh, you wanna help me out, sweet pea?”
“Yes, please.” You hope you sound coherent, like you’re apologizing for not being able to make him feel good yet, but you can’t even keep your eyes on him. The treat in his jeans is too tempting. Your tongue absentmindedly darts out to wet your lips.
Logan lifts your chin roughly with one hand, forcing you to look at him. His hair is wild, and you bite your lip at the sight of how disheveled you’ve made him.
His beard still shines with your release as he shakes his head. “Should have thought of that before you showed up like you did. Can’t control yourself, even in public.” He pulls you to your feet and helps you pull your pants back on. His roughness starts to subside, and left behind is the gentle giant that you recognize.
“You’re gonna wait til we get home,” he says with a gentle kiss to your forehead. But you don’t ignore the tension in his promise that follows: “Then you’re repaying me, bub.”
-
ANYWAYS! i'm crying like a bitch in heat for this man feel free to send me any and all thoughts u have on logan pls
Everyone knows Erik needs rest/help/therapy, etc, etc, except for Erik himself.
I like the idea of him having his helmet not just to protect himself from Xavier’s powers/love, but also because Charles just wouldn’t stop nagging him.
“Erik, don’t do this”
“Erik, your exhausted”
“Erik, come back, there’s a small hole in your chest!”
