So I was watching Thomas’ new video for the millionth time, and I only JUST realised that when Thomas started having the anxiety attack, Logan was circling the word “high” on the chart because he knew exactly what was going on, but he couldn’t get the words out as he was panicking, too, and he wanted somebody (most likely Virgil) to notice it. He was trying to tell them in the very limited way he could that Thomas was beginning to have a panic attack, and I just find all the little extra details that Thomas adds in really clever (whether they’re intentional or not). @thatsthat24 honestly amazes me.

Also, Logan is a dork and I love him, and I love how much he loves that chart.

The morning after her father died, the first thing Laura saw upon waking was Bobby, curled up around his Wolverine doll–the one that he’d carried out of the lab, through a sewer, bundled into the fake bottom of a crate in the back of a truck, up the 5, across the deserts of Utah, the Rockies, and the long flat north that came after. He had carried it through these woods, through this fight and this flight, and there he was sleeping, pudgy hands curled close around it.

Laura had read the comics Gabriela and the other nurses had brought in for them. They had been assigned to learn how to read briefs, maps, instruments, but Gabriela had brought Laura comics about heroes.

In the lab, they had taught Delilah how to drag poison from green veins, how to find the sharpest edge at her beck and call, to strangle. The day before, Delilah had shredded the life out of men with a screaming rain of pine needles. She had wrapped long grasses around Rhodes’s ugly bolo tie and dragged him down and down. But that next day, that dawning day, Laura woke up to see Delilah calling small yellow apples down from a tree blooming out of season.

It had been a story in a comic book, Eden. It had been fiction, a fantasy, a dream, a random set of coordinates. Logan had suspected they would find nothing when they got there. He had been sure.

Sometimes promises are fiction. Sometimes they’re written on the backs of twice-folded photographs. Sometimes the nurse with the steadiest hands whispers to you in the middle of the night come with me child, wake up child, curl up in this duffel bag, stay quiet child, believe me child, we’re going, we’re going, I’ll get you somewhere safe.

Laura had curled up in that fabric-walled darkness, clutching her backpack to her chest. She had her ball, the paperwork that was her life writ out, two battered comic books. A photograph with a list of whispered names. They were not supposed to have names any more than they were supposed to have birthdays or comic books or childhoods.

Kind hands were waiting for them at the end of this journey. There was refuge. There were new names, visas and school where no one should bleed for anything except loose teeth and ignored blisters.

Logan had scoffed, and Laura hadn’t listened. She had said her friends’ names over and over. He had pointed to coordinates in a comic book, and she had said her family’s names over and over. She knew, the way Logan never did, the way Logan never would, that some days stories save you. Sometimes a nurse calls you child instead of by number, and gives you flimsy precious pages to read in the dark.

They knew the comic books were comic books. Laura knew, before she ever met Logan and his smelly, hopeless self, that the X-Men were no gods among men. Flimsy pages—she understood flimsy. She understood the way things tore–pages, clothing, skin and ligaments.

But sometimes you can make the story real. “Eden,” they said. They pressed the coordinates hand to hand, whisper to whisper, and they ran. They promised each other, and they found each other there, at coordinates that had been nothing until they made them a waystation, a place to rest. A watchtower.

Laura had carried so little out of that lab. She had the metal that lined her bones. She had her family’s names. She had a set of coordinates in a battered old comic, and she would carry that forever. It wasn’t real, but she was. It wasn’t real, that Eden, that haven, but she had been there.

She had run shrieking into Rictor’s arms. She had cried on Bobby and danced around the hard cracked dirt with him, each swinging the other in wide circles. Logan had slept safe there for the last time. She would carry it forever. Fading, flimsy pages. A tired man with a funny beard.

They would go next over shallow valleys and dry rocky peaks. Delilah would hunt down a deer in the woods, walking silent on fallen leaves and little sprouts, calling death down green and blooming. Rebecca would cook it up over the fire Bobby raised from sparks, and Laura would lie on her back with her hands on her full rounded belly and pretend she was a lion. When they came down from the mountains, the wide low fields would roll out below them for miles. There would be so much sky.

But for now, in this morning, this dawning day–there was a little boy in a wood, who was the safest he’d ever been. There was a little boy in a wood, with a yellow Wolverine doll held to his chest and Laura sat there in the waking light, watching him breathe.


summary: Thomas is heartsick after a rejection; Patton is taking it the hardest, but Logan is there to set everything right.

characters: logan, patton, virgil, roman

pairings: none (can be logicality if you want tho)

a/n: here’s the fic I wrote during the livestream! The prompt was given by @the-sander-snides <3 It was a lot of fun and I hope to stream again soon before college. (this is really not my best work though, I’m sorry)

It had been an entire day and a half.

The previous day, a Saturday, Logan had woken up to silence- this was the usual, as he woke up at a punctual 7:30 am each and every morning. He would make his bed, write down whatever he could remember of Thomas’s dreams, and proceed to sit at his desk and review the schedule he had made for the rest of the day.

Logan was a man of lists, facts, and habits. At 7:30 am, he would wake up, and dress accordingly. At 8:00 am, he would review what he needed for the day. At 8:15 am, he would take inventory of his room, assure that everything was where it should be (and that Roman hadn’t moved anything out of place).

At 8:30 am, he would meditate, clear his mind, knowing that everything was as it should be.

Finally, at 9:00 am, the muffled thud of socked feet would travel past his room, and the chaotic evolution of what would eventually become breakfast would clatter the other sides awake as Patton set to work in the kitchen.

Everything had gone smoothly until 9:00 am.

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justanotherpurplebutterfly  asked:

Hey! I have a prompt if you want because everything you write is like magic. No pressure if you don't want to, tho. Ily! Okay, so tiny Virgil and tiny Roman both want the same plushie and they pull at it until it rips. So they take it to Logan because he is smart like a doctor and has to make it healthy again. Logan cant sew but he pretends to do 'surgery' to make the plushie better as the two watch closely to make sure the plushie doesn't get hurt. Afterwards they go on 'sick visits' and stuff.

I live for the prompts you all send me, so no worries! Ily too. ^_^ I’ve been kicking around an idea like this in my head for awhile, but I’m going to stick to the parameters you’ve set for me. Hopefully I can do it justice!

“Leggo, Ro! Sir Snoogles is MINE!” Tiny Virgil desperately grabbed one arm of his favorite stuffed companion, glaring fiercely at the other child trying to take him away.

“No, YOU let go! I need him for an adventure!” Tiny Roman huffed, tugging on the stuffed cat’s other arm. 

“NO! You can’t have him!”

“Why not? You always borrow Mrs. Fluffybottom!” 

“That’s different.” Tiny Virgil muttered, his face coloring. 


“You don’t NEED HER! Now let GO!” 

“NO!!!” The two sides stubbornly pulled on the stuffed cat when a tearing sound rent the air. Both children fell back on their rears, and it took Roman a moment to register that he was, in fact, holding the stuffed cat’s arm…only his arm.

Virgil immediately burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. “YOU RIPPED HIS ARM OFF!!!! How COULD you?!” 

“I…Virgil…I’m sorry….I didn’t–”

“Didn’t mean to?! You NEVER mean to, but you always ruin EVERYTHING!” Roman reeled back like he’d been slapped. That had definitely hurt, but his pain was nothing compared to what Virgil was obviously feeling. He felt awful! He was supposed to be a prince, and royalty would never behave so poorly. He frowned, thinking hard, then suddenly brightened. He had an idea!

“Virge, wait! Let’s take Sir Snoogles to Momma! He’s smart like a doctor. He could fix his arm.” Roman hesitantly held out the arm to the darker side, who snatched it out of his hands.

“..R…really?” Virgil hiccuped a little, tears still streaming down his face. Roman nodded enthusiastically, getting up and holding out his hand to help Virgil up. He sniffled, eyeing his offered hand suspiciously before hesitantly taking it. Roman beamed, thrilled that his friend didn’t necessarily hate him.

Logan was reading in his room when the two children approached him, and he immediately put down his book upon seeing Virgil’s distraught face. “What’s going on? Virgil, are you alright?”

“…Sir Snoogles got hurt, Momma!” Virgil tearfully held out his favorite stuffie and it’s now detached arm. 

“You’re super smart, Momma. Can’t you fix him?” Roman pleaded. Logan took Sir Snoogles and the arm, carefully examining both. Sewing had never been his forte, but this repair seemed relatively simple. But first… 

“How did this happen, boys?” Logan’s calm question got an immediate reaction. Virgil glared daggers at Roman, who looked incredibly guilty.

“Roman wouldn’t let go, and he tore Sir Snoogles’ arm off!” 

“I…yeah…I shouldn’t have pulled so hard. I’m so sorry, Virgil. Momma can fix him though, right? You’re smart like a doctor!” Well…Logan couldn’t say he didn’t like hearing that. He smiled and pulled both children into a warm hug.

“I can definitely fix Sir Snoogles. He’s going to need a bit of surgery, but I believe he’ll pull through with flying colors. I need you both to promise me that you’ll be more careful in the future, though. We wouldn’t want anyone else to end up in my surgery ward, would we?” Both boys nodded, murmuring their agreement. Virgil bit his lip nervously.

“Sir Snoogles…he won’t hurt, will he?”

“Of course not! I’m going to take very good care of him. First, we need to prep him for his procedure. Virgil, can you kiss him goodnight so he goes to sleep?” Virgil quickly grabbed the cat and placed several kisses on it’s face. 

“Okay, he’s sleeping now.” 

“Excellent! Now, Roman, if you would be my assistant?” 

“Really?!” From the look on Roman’s face, you would have thought he’d offered the child a lifelong dream. 

“Of course! It is only appropriate that you help heal Sir Snoogles so he can go back to protecting Virgil. Run to that drawer over there and bring me the sewing kit.” Roman did as he was told, dutifully bringing the small black kit to the desk. Logan set Sir Snoogles on the desk top, turning on his lamp for extra light. 

He set to work, gently sewing the arm back in place with precise, even stitches. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold until he could pass the task to Patton, who was much better at sewing than he was. Logan got both of the boys into it, with Roman handing him tools as he asked for it, and Virgil nervously pacing. Once the repair was complete, he sat back, grinning at Virgil.

“Well, I am happy to report that the procedure was a complete success! Sir Snoogles may need a day or two to recover here before he can go home, though.” Virgil immediately crawled into his lap, throwing his arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Momma! Thank you, THANK YOU! You saved him!” Logan chuckled, gently rubbing circles on Virgil’s back. 

“Don’t forget Roman. He was quite an efficient helper today. I doubt I could have done it without him.” Virgil quickly scrambled over to Roman, who was flushing an interesting shade of red.

“I’m still mad at you for hurting Sir Snoogles, but I know you’re sorry and you did help fix him, so I’m going to forgive you anyway.” Virgil said it matter-of-factly, then pulled the prince into a fierce hug. 

“Thank you, Virgil!”

“But if you ever hurt him again, I will tear your arms off.” Logan almost choked at the threat, issued with complete sincerity.


Family Game Night

summary: The four sides decide to play a game of Twister. Roman plays to win, no matter what.

characters: roman, logan, patton, virgil

a/n: this was written during a writing stream; it was a lot of fun! Written because @thatsthat24 ‘s videos are just so cute.

“Left hand, green.”

“My left hand is on green!”

“Well then, move it to a different green, Princey.”

There was a bit of grumbling from Roman before there was a sound slap of his hand resting on a new green circle slightly farther away from the last. Logan and Patton followed his lead, all three perched in increasingly precarious positions on the Twister mat.

Virgil sat next to the mat, legs crossed, holding the spinner and dictating what went where.

“Right foot, yellow.”

“‘Scuse me, kiddo!” Patton said as he maneuvered his leg beneath Logan’s back. It had been Patton’s idea to have a family game night in the first place; he had argued that while yes, they did have a movie night, it was much more intimate to play with and against each other to find out each other’s strengths and weaknesses, likes and dislikes, to grow closer.

Intimate was very correct, Roman thought to himself, seeing how he, Patton, and Logan were currently contorted together like a human pretzel.

“Right hand, yellow.”

Well, whatever game it was, Roman’s only goal was to win. He glanced up at Patton, who was bent over backwards in a bridge pose, upside-down with his glasses dangling from his head. His shirt had ridden up as well, and hadn’t been pulled down since the game started, as per the rules.


Virgil flicked the spinner again, letting it whir before it stopped. “Right hand-”

He was cut off by a loud squeal from Patton; the parental facet snorted and let out a loud laugh before he crumbled to the floor, ears and cheeks slightly pink as he curled in on himself.

“Uh,” Virgil said, “I guess you’re out, Pat.”

Patton sat up. “Aw, Roman, tickling’s not fair!”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like cheating to me, Roman.”

“I did not cheat!” Roman gasped, keeping his hands and feet planted on their respectful circles. “And even if I did, there’s no rule against touching other players, is there?”

“The rules themselves never specifically state any restrictions against touching other players, or doing anything to hinder their ability to win,” Logan stated from his place on the mat. “So, technically, Roman cheating is not cheating according to the rules of the game.”

Roman grinned over at Virgil, who rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Alright. Sorry, Patton, looks like you’re out.”

Patton pouted as he crawled over to sit next to Virgil, but returned to his usual peppy grin when Virgil nudged him gently and handed him the spinner to flick.

“Left foot, blue!”

Roman stamped his foot down on one blue circle. Logan took a little more time, obviously planning out some sort of strategy in his head, before moving his own leg beneath Roman’s to place his foot on his own circle.

Roman smirked; he had a good opportunity to win, now, with one hand out of view of the judges and close to Logan’s ribs. He could easily have his last opponent on the floor if he could just-

Logan’s knee jerked up quickly, into the back of Roman’s own knee. The prince gasped as his leg was suddenly thrust forward, and, in his haste to steady himself, let his sock slip off the mat. The rest of him followed.

“Logan wins!” Patton cheered.

Roman groaned from his place on the floor, covering his eyes with his arm in a dramatic pose. “Wounded!” he insisted. “I’ve been wounded!”

“I believe the only thing that is hurt is your pride, Roman,” Logan said, having stood from his winning position.

“Yeah,” Patton added. “Didn’t you know it’s legal to cheat in Twister?”

Tiny Patton and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Okay, inspired by @ssimplypatton a great story by @softbludemon and finding a childhood favorite in my bookshelf tonight, have some adorable Tiny Patton having a very rough time.

The day had not started well for Tiny Patton when he’d woken up and found that Momma Lo Lo had been summoned away to help Tom Tom with a new video. Usually Momma Lo Lo was his main caretaker when he was Tiny. The logical side had memorized every single one of Patton’s preferences and somehow did a fantastic job of making everything run smoothly, and things had a way of going awry when he wasn’t around.

Virgil tried his best to get Tiny Patton through breakfast, and even in his childlike state, he understood that the anxious side was doing his best. Which is why he didn’t throw a fit when Virgil gave him yucky grape juice in the wrong sippy cup. Momma Lo Lo would have remembered apple juice in the blue sippy cup, Patton thought sulkily as he sipped the icky juice, trying not to make a face.

He’d gone to color, and couldn’t find his crayons! They weren’t on the coffee table where they usually were, and Roman had helped him look, but couldn’t find them either. Then Patton had decided to play with his toys, only to realize his favorite stuffie, Pupples, the one Virge had made him, was missing! A very distressed Patton had clumsily searched his whole room, feeling more frustrated and sad with each passing moment. Momma Lo Lo always knew where everything was!

Snack time came, and while Virgil did give him apples, which Patton loved, he didn’t slice them right. Momma Lo Lo always sliced them a certain way, and it just made the apples taste better. Still, he sullenly ate his apples, because Virgil looked nervous and sad.

The usually happy child was quiet and sadly coloring with some markers from Roman’s room, which were not the same as crayons AT ALL, when he accidentally spilled the remains of the yucky juice on his favorite blue blanket! Patton’s eyes had welled with frustrated tears, but Roman had delicately taken the blanket, assuring him he would get it clean. In the meantime, Patton was stuck with the Not As Good green blanket. He settled into the somewhat itchy blanket, crossing his tiny arms and pouting. That never would have happened if Lo Lo were here!

Lunch was mac and cheese that Roman made, and usually it was his favorite, but today he picked listlessly at it, hardly eating. Lo Lo made it better. He didn’t know why it tasted better, it just did!

Sensing that Patton was having a bad day, Roman settled him on the couch and put in his favorite DVD, Winnie the Pooh. Patton perked up, maybe his day wouldn’t be so bad after all? But the DVD wouldn’t play! Roman winced when he saw the huge scratch in the disc.

And that was the straw that broke Tiny Patton’s back! He released a huge wail, sobbing uncontrollably. He threw himself on the ground, kicking and screaming. He knew he was being irrational but he couldn’t help it!!! He was emotions, and right now he was sad and mad and he WANTED HIS LOLO!!!!!

Virgil and Roman both tried to calm him down, tried to comfort him. It didn’t really work, but they did manage to get him into the right jammies and tucked into bed. As soon as the left, Patton was up and toddling towards the commons. He. Wanted. His. Lo Lo.

When Logan returned to the commons, he knew immediately that Patton had definitely had a rough day. His eyes were red and swollen, and his head was bobbing down as he tried to keep himself awake. As soon as Logan put his hand on the child’s shoulder, he had an armful of crying Patton.

“Moooomma!!!! It was so awful!!! I had the WORST day!!! ‘Irgil gave me the wrong juice in the green cup, an’ he cut my apples wrong, an’ the icky juice spilled on the good blanket, an’ Ro made bad mac and cheese, an’ I lost Pupples, an’ Winnie the Pooh is broked.” It all came pouring out with hot, angry tears. Logan rubbed soothing circles on his back, gently rocking him.

“Shhhh, there there, it’s going to be alright. Now, let’s go through all of those things, one at a time, okay?” Patton sniffled and nodded, and Logan offered him a gentle smile.

“The wrong juice? We can fix that right now. Come on.” Logan carried him to the kitchen and set him on the counter. In moments, he was happily sipping apple juice from the blue cup. Logan gently ruffled his hair, then picked him up, tucking him against his hip.

“I will slice your apples before I leave from now on, should I be called away again. Bad mac and cheese? I’ll make it for lunch tomorrow.” Logan ticked problems off on his fingers as they walked, mind already leaping ahead, finding solutions.

“The good blue blanket was dirty? Hmm, let’s check the laundry. Ah, here we are! Good as new. Roman did a good job.” Patton giggled, his first of the day, as Logan wrapped him in the familiar fuzzy softness.

“Now, what else happened?”

“Lost Pupples and the crayons, and Winnie the Pooh got scratched!”

“Well, Pupples is in my room, as are your crayons. I will make sure you have both tomorrow. And as for Winnie the Pooh…” Logan flourished his hands, producing a new DVD. “That is very easily rectified.”

Patton threw his arms around Logan, feeling the awful frustration and sadness that had plagued him all day disappear. Lo Lo had only been home for 15 minutes, and he’d fixed everything!

Logan carefully took his (now empty) sippy cup and set it on the table, then took him back to his bed. He tucked the child into bed, and snuggled in beside him when he made grabby hands at him.

Snuggled in against Logan’s chest, feeling his hand card through his hair, Patton started to drift off. Before he drifted off, he slowly mumbled “I love you, Lo Lo. Will you marry me?”

Logan froze, his hand still tangled in Patton’s hair. Did….did he just hear….? No. Nope. Surely not.

The next day, a very adult Patton (who was rather disappointed to be grown up again if he was being honest) walked into the kitchen with a bounce in his step. He knew Logan hadn’t said anything, but he was still feeling optimistic. He chuckled to himself as he grabbed something from the top shelf and a marker. He scribbled a quick note, and managed to hide it behind his back just as Logan walked in.

He blinked twice, then offered a shy smile before sitting down. “It would appear I won’t be slicing apples or making mac and cheese after all.”

“I’d still eat it, if you did, Lo.” That earned him a soft laugh. God, did Patton love that laugh! He loved everything about Logan, to be honest. Which brings us to this, and if it didn’t work…well…. he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

He smiled and started to walk past the logical side, when he tossed his little project on the table in front of him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “I absolutely meant it. How about it, Lo?”

Logan stared at the ring pop with “Will you marry me?” scribbled on it in Patton’s messy scrawl. He turned his head, and found Patton close enough that he could smell the cologne that always muddled his senses.

When Virgil walked in a few minutes later, he immediately turned around and walked out upon seeing Dad thoroughly kissing the daylights out of Logan. He did NOT want to know!!!!

@pirate-patton @leesacrakon @emo-space-trash @romananalogicality @musicsavedmefromdeath @princey-must-slay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @cefmua56 @lackingroman @pattonscardigan


SHIP(S): Patton x Logan
PROMPTS(S): “Oh, are you ticklish?”
TAGS: @absolute-chivalry @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch
SUMMARY: Patton finds that Logan has a.. sensitive spot.
WARNING(S): None for this one! Just good o’l fluff.

The boys had been wrapped up together on the couch, a new show playing on the television as idle background noise. Both Logan and Patton were much more involved in each other, even if they weren’t speaking.

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Comatose-Chapter 14

Summary: You are the sister of Charles Xavier. You are part of the Avengers and dating Bucky Barnes. Unbeknownst to you Bucky is having an affair with Natasha. When you catch them in the act, things go downhill from there. You are a Mutant with similar powers to Jean, only with Immortality thrown in.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky X Natasha, Logan Howlett X Reader

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Cheating, Feelings of worthlessness, Depression.

  @tilltheendwilliwrite you are truly the most amazing beta. Thank you for listening to me rant and screaming with me. This fic wouldn’t be what it is without you Xox

“This is a terrible idea,” Storm remarks as she watches a smirking Logan circle Bucky on the training mat.

“I know, but it needs to be done. They need to learn to work together,” you reply, watching as Bucky lands a particularly nasty ariel kick to the top of Logan’s head.

“They are going to kill each other. Logan looks ready to murder,” she says giggling nervously.

You sigh. “Dammit I know, but it needs to happen.”

Bucky is not holding back, using every ounce of training he has to get the upper hand on Logan, and he is succeeding. You can’t tell if Logan is letting him win or is genuinely faltering under the onslaught of the winter soldier. But, the wolfman is healing as fast as Bucky is opening him up, which seems to be making the former winter soldier all the madder.

“Cap,” you call. “This needs to stop, put me in with Buck.”

Steve’s eyes widen momentarily before he nods and calls a halt to the fight. “Alright, change partners. Buck you’re with (Y/N), pal.”

Logan’s eyes snap to yours, a warning clear in them. He starts to protest, but a vicious glare shuts him up.

Stepping onto the mat, you nod at Bucky. He grunts in greeting, not bothering to meet your gaze. He lets loose with a combination of punches, landing a solid hit to your ribs.

You hiss in pain before retaliating with a knee to the stomach and an uppercut to the jaw. The fight is a dance, beautiful to watch. You know each other’s movements intimately, syncing naturally with each other. It’s a painful reminder of betrayal. Of what could have been if he had done things differently.

He has a hand on your throat, slight pressure there, his other hand holding you tightly around the waist, ready to slam you to the mat. You whimper at the familiar action. It pulls memories to the surface of hot nights and sensual, stroking hands, and you arch into him.

Bucky freezes, eyes wide. “Fuck,” he mutters out loud.

Your body betrays you in front of the entire team, causing you to flush in anticipation like you once would have. Sucking in a steadying breath, you elbow Bucky in the stomach. Twisting out of the hold, you head butt him on the nose, stagger back, and land a kick to his side, watching as he falls to the floor.

Ignoring the eyes of everyone in the room. You make your way to where a pissed off Logan is glaring at you, murder written clearly on his face. Guilt courses through you as you come to a standstill in front of him. “Logan,” you whisper.

He pulls you roughly from the room, coming to a halt outside one of the many supply closets littering the compound.

“What. the. Fuck. was. That!” he spits out, “You were dry humping your ex in front of the entire team!”

Not knowing what to say you settle on, “I’m sorry.. It was familiar.. I just responded.”

Logan’s face hardens with anger. Lips curled into a snarl, he shoves you through the supply closet door, locking it firmly behind him. He pushes you roughly into a wall, calloused hand wrapping around your throat.

It sends heat spiking through you. Lust roars to life, and you moan for him, wetness gathering between your thighs.

“You are mine,” he grits out. “Mine alone,” he reiterated as he claims your lips in a bruising passionate kiss.

Breaking away from your lips he drops to his knees. Yanking down the work out pants you are wearing, he forces you to step out of them. His hands are hard and ruthless, hooking a leg over his shoulders. He spreads you open, growling at the wetness he finds.

“Who do you belong to?” he growls as he licks a languid stripe along your opening, avoiding your clit.

You gasp out, hands flying to his hair yanking roughly. “Please, Logan,” you whimper, as he continues his ministrations avoiding where you need it most.

“Who do you belong to?” he says circling the outside of your clit.

“o..oh god,” you moan, canting your hips into his face. He places a hand on your lower stomach, forcing you to keep still. “Logan!” you whine, desperately needing relief.

He chuckles darkly. “Tell me who you belong to darlin’, and I’ll give you exactly what you want.” He moans, his nostrils flaring, breathing in your scent.

“You!” you all but scream. “I’m yours! Logan, please!” you beg.

Satisfied, he sucks your clit into his mouth. Pushing one thick finger inside you, he massages at your walls. It nearly drives you over the edge, the conflicting sensations driving you mad with desire. Logan moans against you as you tug harshly at his hair.

“Stop!” you moan out.

He disengages completely, looking at you in mild panic. You simply smile and help him to his feet, staring directly into his eyes.

“I want to taste you, baby,” you say, voice husky with arousal. “I want your thick cock in my mouth.”

His eyes darken, turn almost black. “Oh fuck,” he all but moans, fumbling with his sweatpants.

You sink to your knees, yanking his pants down roughly. Taking his thick length in your hand, you place small kitten licks to his tip. His loud grunts urge you onward. Engulfing him entirely, you trace the thick vein at the underside of his shaft with your tongue. Stroking the base of his cock with a firm grip, your free hand weighs his heavy balls. Giving a light squeeze every few seconds, you turn him into a moaning mess above you. His hands tangle in your long locks, guiding your head.

“Jus’ like that darlin’,” he says as he hits the back of your throat, holding you there briefly. “You gonna let me fuck that pretty little mouth?” he purrs giving an experimental thrust into your mouth.

You moan around him, sending vibrations through his pulsating length. He’s always been a dominant lover. Demanding. It arouses the hell out of you.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he moans as he starts thrusting in earnest.

Your jaw is aching, eyes burning with tears, legs slick with your own arousal, but you couldn’t care less. It feels so fucking good, and you couldn’t stop even if you tried.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Logan mutters, pulling you off him roughly. You whine in protest. He chuckles, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

Twirling you around, he shoves you face first into the wall, kicking your legs apart. He enters you in one swift motion, not bothering to give you time to adjust. He fucks into you roughly, unrelenting, growling with every thrust. The angle has you seeing stars. You’re a begging sobbing mess and Logan revels in it.

Pulling you back by the hair, he places a hand on your throat, whispering in your ear, “Mine… only mine.” A particularly sharp thrust has you coming undone around him, spasming and arching against him. “And I don’t share what’s mine.” He growls  loudly when he comes, long thick spurts coating your walls, panting harshly in your ear. “I love you,” he whispers, nipping affectionately at your earlobe.

“I know,” you reply as an unexpected wave of emotion flares in your chest. Logan pulls out of you, handing you your clothing. Understanding rips through you and leaves you reeling, breath caught in your throat.

Logan looks at you with concern. “You alrigh’? Did I hurt you?”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Oh..Oh my god.”

Logan strides toward you, checking you roughly for any sign of injury. “What? What is it? Where are ya hurt?” he mutters, panicked.

“Logan,” you breathe out. His concerned eyes train to yours. “I..I think I love you, too.”

Tags: Well? Whadaya think?

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