Kinktober Day8- Face Sitting

Kinktober Day8- Face Sitting

Summary: Logan eats you out like a man starved.

Logan's grip tightened around your thighs, his fingers digging in as he encouraged you to grind against his mouth. The heat of his breath sent shivers through you, and each time his tongue flicked against your sensitive flesh, it felt like pure ecstasy. You could barely contain the sounds escaping your lips, a mix of pleasure and urgency, as he pulled you deeper into his rhythm.

He relished in every reaction from you, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he watched you writhe above him. The way you leaned back, giving him better access, only fueled his hunger. He was a man on a mission, determined to bring you to that blissful edge, and the way your body responded to him only made him more fervent. Each movement was precise, teasing, and relentless, his tongue swirling and thrusting in a perfect dance that sent you spiraling toward the brink.

As the tension built within you, your body felt electric, teetering on the edge of release. Logan sensed it, pulling you closer still, urging you to let go. With one final, overwhelming thrust of his tongue, you shattered, your world exploding into bliss as you cried out his name. He drank in every moment, his hands steadying you, his own satisfaction evident in the way he savored you, lost in the depth of the moment.

Requests are Open!

Silent Exchange

Summary: Logan, working as a prostitute, meets a client who only wants to talk. In their conversation, Logan faces the emptiness he’s been running from.

The bar was thick with sweat, blood, and smoke, and Logan stood in the middle of the cage, his chest heaving from another brutal fight. The crowd roared around him, but he tuned them out, his senses dulled to the chaos. The opponent lay crumpled on the mat, and Logan wiped a streak of blood from his knuckles. It wasn’t his.

He grabbed his coat from the edge of the cage and slipped it over his broad shoulders, walking toward the back without looking back at the crowd or the unconscious man. He’d seen it all before—too many times to count. It was just another fight. Just another night.

As he ducked through the narrow corridor, Vic, his so-called “manager,” stood leaning against the wall. Vic was a rat of a man, always looking for the next quick buck, always knowing how to push Logan’s buttons.

“Logan, you killed it tonight, man,” Vic said, that slimy grin plastered on his face. “But you know, the fights? They’re small-time compared to what you could be making.”

Logan didn’t stop, barely acknowledging Vic as he passed him.

“C’mon, Logan,” Vic called after him. “I got real offers! Men and women, high rollers. They pay a premium for someone like you.”

Logan paused, jaw clenching. He could hear Vic’s grin even without looking. He’d been running from offers like this for a long time. But the money from the fights wasn’t enough anymore. And something about the grind of it all was wearing him down.

“How much?” Logan asked without turning around.

Vic’s grin spread wider. “Enough to make it worth your time. They like ’em strong. Like a beast. Someone who can take whatever they throw at ’em.”

Logan closed his eyes for a second. He knew exactly what Vic meant. He’d seen it before, been offered it before. But tonight, something inside him gave in.

“Fine,” Logan muttered, his voice low.

The first client was a woman, older, draped in diamonds and arrogance. Her perfume was thick, filling the room like a fog, suffocating. She didn’t speak much, just took him in with a gaze that said she’d already owned him before he’d even stepped through the door.

Logan let her. He’d learned to detach himself, to let his mind drift as his body did what was expected. She wanted someone rough, someone who could take whatever she dished out. He gave her that. And when it was over, he left without a word, pocketing the envelope she’d left on the bedside table.

The clients came and went after that. Sometimes men, sometimes women. Some wanted him to be gentle, others wanted to test his limits. None of it mattered to Logan. He was just a body, just muscle and bone, flesh that healed too fast for any of it to leave a mark. It was just another kind of fight. A different kind of cage.

The money was good, though. Better than the fights. He could live off it. But the emptiness followed him out of every hotel room, clinging to him like the stench of cheap perfume and sweat.

He could handle it. He’d handled worse. That’s what he kept telling himself. But every night, it chipped away a little more.

It wasn’t until the night he met him that things began to shift.

Logan walked into the room like he always did, expecting the same motions, the same script. The client was a man in his mid-thirties, clean-cut, his suit well-tailored and his hair slicked back. Logan had seen plenty of guys like him—wealthy, successful, but hollow behind the eyes, looking for something they couldn’t buy with all their money.

They sat across from each other in the hotel room, the man watching Logan quietly.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” the man asked after a moment, his voice calm but tinged with something like nervousness.

Logan grunted. “Yeah.”

The man nodded, still studying him. But unlike the others, he wasn’t eyeing Logan with lust or hunger. His expression was more… curious. Thoughtful, even.

“You ever get tired of it?” the man asked, leaning forward slightly. “Doing this?”

Logan frowned. “It’s a job,” he said flatly. “Same as any other.”

The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Is that all it is to you? Just a job?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Most clients didn’t care. Most of them just wanted to get what they paid for and move on. But this guy… he wanted more. He wanted to talk.

“What do you want?” Logan asked, his voice gruff.

The man leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. “I didn’t hire you to… do what you think. I just wanted to talk.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the tension in his body easing slightly. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Not at all.

“Talk,” Logan repeated, the word foreign in his mouth. “That’s all?”

The man nodded. “Yeah. That’s all.”

Logan was silent for a long moment, unsure of what to do with this. Talking wasn’t part of the deal. It never had been. But this man—he wasn’t asking for anything else. He wasn’t demanding or pushing Logan into that familiar role.

“Why?” Logan finally asked, his voice low.

The man sighed softly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Because… I’m tired. Tired of everything feeling so empty. I’ve been paying for company for years, but it’s always the same. No matter what I do, no matter how much I pay, it never fills the hole.”

Logan felt a strange twinge of recognition in the man’s words. He knew that feeling all too well.

The man looked up at him again, eyes soft but serious. “You ever feel that way? Like no matter what you do, nothing fills the void?”

Logan clenched his jaw, the weight of the question settling heavily on him. He could brush it off, pretend like he didn’t understand. But the truth was, the man was right. Logan had been running from that void for as long as he could remember.

“Yeah,” Logan muttered. “I get it.”

They sat in silence for a while, the usual tension of these encounters fading away. There was no expectation, no transaction. Just two men sitting in a hotel room, both carrying the weight of their own emptiness.

“You don’t have to stay,” the man said softly. “If this isn’t what you want.”

Logan shook his head. “No. It’s fine.”

He didn’t know why he stayed. Maybe because, for once, there was no need to turn it all off. No need to shut down. For once, he wasn’t just a body, wasn’t just a tool for someone else’s pleasure.

And for the first time in a long while, that felt like enough.

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN

Hello!

I just read your fluff and Spicy Logan headcannons and I really enjoyed them.

I have a Logan request if you don't mind.

I wanted to know your take on Logan hanging around the homestead one quiet day and reader comes home from running errands around town and she is wearing one of his flannels and Logan just realized it.

Thank you!

Logan didn’t expect today to feel any different than usual—just a quiet, routine day working around the house, a bit of repair here, a little fix there. The afternoon sun was dipping lower, casting a warm glow over the yard, when he heard the crunch of gravel under tires. He glanced up, noticing it was your car pulling into the driveway. He felt that subtle spark he always did when he saw you coming home, but this time, something caught him off guard.

You stepped out, hands full of grocery bags, and he noticed you were wearing one of his flannels. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut—in the best way. The shirt looked loose, almost swallowing you, but it hung on you in this endearing, perfect way that made his chest ache.

You didn’t even seem to realize he was staring as you headed toward the porch. “Hey,” you greeted, balancing the bags, giving him that soft smile he couldn’t get enough of. “Managed to grab everything on the list.”

Logan walked over, still too stunned to speak, his gaze fixed on you. When he finally spoke, his voice came out a little rougher than he intended. “You—uh…that’s mine.” His hand reached out, brushing the flannel’s collar lightly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was real.

You looked down, then back up at him with a grin. “Oh, this?” you teased. “Well, I thought you wouldn’t mind. I mean…you’ve got, what, ten of these?”

He chuckled, but it sounded more like a breath of disbelief than anything else. “Doesn’t matter. Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

You looked up, catching the unusual softness in his eyes. His hand stayed at your collar, his thumb grazing your neck just enough to make you shiver. He swallowed hard, looking like he was trying to find the right words.

“Logan?” you murmured, a little surprised by how intense his gaze was.

He took a breath, searching your face with a vulnerability he rarely showed. “Just…didn’t expect it to feel like this. You in my clothes. Feels…like home.” His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a gentleness that always surprised you.

“Logan…” you whispered, a little taken aback at how deep his words ran.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his voice low and soft. “You got no idea what that does to me, darlin’. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

The words hung between you, and in that moment, Logan felt a peace settle over him he hadn’t felt in years. You smiled, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him close.

“Well, in that case…” you whispered back, “…I might need to borrow a few more shirts.”

He chuckled, holding you tighter. “As long as you’re here, take anything you want.”

Requests are Open!

Kinktober Day6-Bondage

Summary: You tie Logan down.(idk if it counts as edging)

The training room was dimly lit, shadows dancing across the walls, but the atmosphere was thick with tension.

Logan stood in the center, a figure of raw strength, bound by heavy chains that glimmered in the soft light. The metal cuffs encircled his wrists, anchoring him to the steel post behind him. Despite his formidable presence, there was an undeniable vulnerability about him as he looked at you, his dark eyes flickering with a mix of annoyance and intrigue.

"Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to have some fun?" he challenged, his voice a low rumble, almost daring you to make a move. The defiance in his tone only fueled your excitement.

You stepped closer, your heart racing as you brushed your fingers against the cool metal of the chains, watching his muscles tense beneath his tank top. "I thought you liked being at my mercy," you replied, a teasing lilt in your voice.

"Only if you know what to do with it," he shot back, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were fighting back a smile.

You took a moment to enjoy the sight of him-powerful, rugged, and undeniably sexy, even when restrained. "Oh, I know exactly what to do," you purred, letting your fingers glide down his arm, tracing the contours of his bicep. He shivered at your touch, the tension between you crackling like electricity in the air.

As you moved closer, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear.

"You're going to let me take control tonight. Just relax and trust me." You pulled back slightly, searching his gaze for any sign of hesitation, but instead, you found a fierce hunger.

"Trust? That's a dangerous game," he murmured, but the way he leaned into your touch told you all you needed to know.

You grabbed the chain connected to his wrist, giving it a gentle tug. "I'm counting on it," you whispered. With a deft motion, you moved behind him, the chains rattling softly as you secured his other wrist to the post, locking him into place. His muscles flexed against the restraints, a growl escaping his lips as he felt the weight of the bondage sink in.

"Now, let's see how much you can handle," you said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. Logan was at your mercy, the once-unbreakable Wolverine now bound and awaiting your every command.

You moved in front of him, kneeling to level your gaze. "Are you ready for this?" you asked, your voice low and sultry.

"Just don't take too long," he shot back, his bravado clashing with the vulnerability of his situation.

With a mischievous grin, you took your time, trailing your hands over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers. You pressed soft kisses against his collarbone, eliciting a deep, throaty growl from him that made your pulse quicken.

"Don't think you can just tease me," he warned, though the heat in his eyes betrayed his excitement. "You know I'll get out of these chains if you push me too far."

You smiled, your breath hitching with anticipation. "That's the fun part, isn't it? Seeing how far I can push you?"

You began to explore further, your hands moving dangerously close to his waistband, but just as you were about to touch him, you pulled back, teasingly watching his face twist with frustration.

"Not yet," you whispered, enjoying the sight of him struggling against his bonds, muscles straining, eyes wild with desire.

"Damn it," he growled, trying to rein in the rising tide of need within him. "You can't just leave me hanging like this." His voice was strained, caught between the thrill of bondage and the overwhelming urge to let go.

With every teasing caress, you felt him inching closer to the edge, his breath quickening as you toyed with his restraint. "Let's see how long you can hold out," you taunted, moving back slightly to give him space but keeping your gaze locked on his.

"Please," he panted, the word slipping from his lips like a prayer. "I can't take much more of this."

"You can," you countered, reveling in his torment. "I want to see you fight it, Logan. I want to see you struggle to hold back."

His muscles twitched beneath the chains, each pulse a reminder of his arousal as he fought against the primal urge to let go. "You're playing a dangerous game," he growled, his voice thick with need.

"Maybe," you replied, your eyes glinting with mischief. "But I'm the one in control tonight."

As you watched him, you could see the conflict playing out in his eyes-the warrior instinct battling against his overwhelming desire. You leaned in closer, brushing your lips against his ear, whispering sweet nothings that only added to his struggle. "Just a little longer," you urged. "I promise it'll be worth it."

He clenched his jaw, the chains rattling softly as he fought against them. " won't last much longer," he warned, the edge of desperation coloring his voice.

"I need you to touch me."

"But that would ruin the fun, wouldn't it?" you teased, your voice dripping with seduction. "I want to see how far you can go before you break."

With every passing moment, the tension escalated, his breathing becoming more erratic as you continued to edge him closer to the brink without giving him any release.

The anticipation hung in the air like a taut string, ready to snap at any moment.

"Just... a little more," he gasped, fighting against the chains as if they were the only thing keeping him tethered to sanity. "I swear I'II-"

Before he could finish, you pressed your body against his, just enough to let him feel your warmth without granting him the satisfaction of touch. He gasped, his resolve wavering as the heat between you intensified.

Before he could finish, you pressed your body against his, just enough to let him feel your warmth without granting him the satisfaction of touch. He gasped, his resolve wavering as the heat between you intensified.

"Remember, Logan," you murmured, your lips barely grazing his. "This is all part of the game."

With that, you pulled back, leaving him gasping, the raw need evident in his eyes. You watched as he fought himself, each second dragging out the tension, pushing him closer to the edge. You reveled in the power you held, knowing you could bring him to the brink without ever laying a hand on him.

When It Hurt

Summary: Logan cares for Wade during a painful episode, showing him he’s not alone.

Wade was slipping.

The pain felt different this time—worse. It crawled under his skin, dug into his bones, and wouldn’t let go. He had stopped keeping track of the days, the hours. Time blurred into one endless stream of hurt, and the only constant was the hollow ache deep in his body as it rebelled against him. His healing factor, usually his greatest weapon, was failing him tonight. Every cell felt like it was tearing itself apart.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. He was cold. So cold that his teeth chattered, even as sweat dripped down his scarred face. His body lay sprawled on the floor of his dingy apartment, too weak to rise, too stubborn to call anyone for help. Not that anyone would care, right?

The door creaked open, but Wade didn’t lift his head. He couldn’t muster the strength to react, not even when the familiar heavy footsteps approached. A low sigh cut through the silence, and then that voice, rough as gravel.

“Wade.”

Logan.

Wade’s breath hitched, his body convulsing in a painful shiver. He wanted to say something, crack a joke, but all that came out was a broken whisper. “Logey…? Thought you… swore off visiting my… beautiful face.”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he knelt beside Wade, his gruff demeanor softening for a moment as he took in the sight of the man lying before him—pale, trembling, and looking more fragile than Logan had ever seen him. Wade was always larger than life, hiding behind endless wisecracks and masks, but now… now he looked small. Vulnerable.

“Christ, Wade. What’ve you done to yourself?” Logan muttered, his brows furrowing. His hands were steady as he gently touched Wade’s face, checking for fever. Cold as ice. “You’re freezing.”

Wade let out a weak laugh, the sound hollow and brittle. “Yeah… I’m a walking popsicle… catch me while you can.” His lips quivered, his voice breaking at the end. He hated this—hated being weak in front of anyone, especially Logan.

Logan didn’t bite at the joke this time. His focus was on getting Wade off the floor, his hands moving with surprising gentleness as he hooked them under Wade’s arms. “C’mon. We gotta get you warmed up,” Logan grumbled, lifting him with ease. Wade’s body was limp, too drained to protest.

The mercenary let out a faint groan as Logan guided him toward the couch, his muscles spasming with every step. It hurt. It all hurt. But he didn’t want Logan to see it—didn’t want to let anyone see how much it hurt.

“Logey, if you wanted to… cuddle, you could’ve… asked,” Wade slurred, trying desperately to keep up the act.

Logan just shook his head, his jaw tight. He laid Wade down on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much. Wade could feel the warmth of Logan’s hands lingering on him even after he pulled away. A shiver wracked his body, and his teeth chattered violently.

Logan grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, covering Wade with it. “You’re a goddamn idiot,” Logan muttered, but there was no anger in his voice—just something that sounded almost… sad.

Wade stared up at him through half-lidded eyes, his vision blurry. “Yeah, but you… you love me,” he whispered, his breath catching on the last word.

Logan froze for a second, his expression flickering with something unreadable. Then, without a word, he disappeared into the kitchen. Wade could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing, water running. His body ached, the pain throbbing in every limb, but for the first time in days, he wasn’t completely alone.

Logan returned a few minutes later, kneeling beside the couch with a steaming mug in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He pressed the glass to Wade’s lips, helping him drink. Wade gulped down the cool liquid, grateful for the relief it brought to his parched throat.

Logan watched him, his brow furrowed with concern. “When’s the last time you ate somethin’?”

Wade blinked, trying to remember. The days had bled together, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had anything besides a few sips of water. “Who needs food when you’ve got… cancer couture?” he rasped, but the joke fell flat, the usual spark missing from his voice.

Logan’s hand tightened around the mug, and for a moment, Wade thought he was going to snap. But instead, Logan held the mug up to Wade’s mouth, his touch so gentle it almost felt like a dream. Wade sipped slowly, the warmth of the broth spreading through his chest, taking the edge off the freezing cold that had settled deep in his bones.

“You’re not invincible,” Logan said quietly, his voice rough but soft. “I know you act like you are, but… this? This ain’t a joke, Wade.”

Wade’s breath hitched, a lump forming in his throat. Logan didn’t talk like this. Logan didn’t do feelings. But here he was, sitting beside Wade like a goddamn guardian angel, watching over him with that stubborn look of his.

“Hey… don’t… don’t get all mushy on me, Wolvie,” Wade whispered, but the usual sarcasm was gone. His voice cracked, betraying him. “I’m fine… always fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Logan snapped, but then his tone softened again. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

That hit Wade harder than any bullet or blade ever had. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the sudden wave of emotion that rose in his chest. The pain was still there, sharp and all-consuming, but so was something else—something warmer, something that cut through the icy numbness that had settled over him.

“Why do you care?” Wade asked, his voice barely a whisper now. His eyes fluttered open, meeting Logan’s steady gaze. “Why… do you always come back?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. His expression was stoic, but Wade could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hand gripped the edge of the couch like he was holding something back. Finally, Logan spoke, his voice low and raw.

“Because you’re not alone in this,” he said, his eyes never leaving Wade’s. “No matter how much you act like you wanna be.”

Wade’s breath caught in his throat, and for once, he didn’t have a joke. Didn’t have anything to say to that. Instead, he just let the words settle, let the warmth of Logan’s presence wrap around him like the blanket tucked over his shaking form.

Logan stayed by his side, not moving, not saying another word. He didn’t have to. Wade closed his eyes, feeling the heaviness in his chest start to loosen, just a little.

It still hurt—God, it hurt so much—but with Logan there, it was bearable. He wasn’t fine, not by a long shot. But he wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

Logan with a Dom! Woman

Description: Logan with a Dom!woman

Warning: Smut

Request: hellooo!!! may I request a fic with a submissive Logan howlett and a dom!fem!reader who consensually gropes him man titties whilst riding him to the point where Logan can’t even use words anymore because of the amount of ecstasy he feels during this experience :O????

Logan being submissive? Wade would laugh 

The big bad Wolvy under a beautiful woman moaning and losing his shit as she plays with his man tits? Yes 

Logan was never one for being submissive…That was until Y/N came along.

She loved being the one in control and constantly took action.

The first time they had sex, Logan was on top and took control

She let him. She let him have his fun and got him thinking that he was the one with the power 

But as little mix says, “You’re the man but I got the, I got the power.” 

She loved watching Logan’s face turn red as she whispered what she wanted to do to him in his ear. 

He wasn’t used to this type of dominance from anyone. 

Logan was in shock when they were fucking and Y/N got him on his back and took control. 

She looked so sexy on top of him as she rode him hard and fast. She was chasing her orgasm but wanted to deny him of his. 

To show him that she wasn’t playing. 

The second he was about to cum she slid off him and he glared at her. 

She chuckled and shrugged, “You aren’t cumming just yet.” She said. 

He was in shock by this but watched as she instructed him to sit up against the headboard. 

He was curious as to what was to come (hopefully him) so he did as he was told.

He hated not being in control but that would soon be forgotten about. 

As Y/N rode him she had the urge to play with him like he does her. 

He had the perfect set of man tits and they were begging to be played with.

She leaned forward and licked and sucked on one of his nipples and the other one she was using her hand to play with. 

Logan wasn’t one to moan and whine but that set him off.

Activate Sub!Logan 

This man was whiny like a bitch in heat as Y/N played with his tits and rode his dick. 

She told him he couldn’t cum but he was begging her to let him. 

“Please please sweetheart I need to cum.” She awed at his plea and giggled. 

His face was red and he was breathing hard. 

He really enjoyed the feeling of her hands and mouth on his tits. 

“You’ve been a good boy for me Wolvy. You can cum.” 

His orgasm was shattering. He has never felt anything like that before. 

Y/N watched as his eyes rolled back and he whimpered and whined as she rode out his orgasm. 

She had 3 orgasms prior so she was set just to pleasure him. 

“Fuck.” He breathed out after he caught his breath. 

“How was that?” She asked, still sitting on him. 

“Fucking amazing.” 

He was not opposed to that happening again. 

“Good.” She purred. “Because I’m not one to beg and plead so you better get used to it.”