Whatever My Little Weird Brain Wants

Katrina Wagner?

Hunt

warning: non consenting sniffing; creepy Victoria

Victoria prowls into the Alaskan reserve with a salacious smile, smelling the air deeply. She smells the tress and snow, flora and fauna, heard the trembling creeks and the creaking winds. And in the sounds and scents of the forest; she’s finds you as well.

A mutant on the run, hiding from both the Brotherhood and Xavier, a feral mutant. Like the runt. Like her.

Tawny blond hair moves in the wind as she stalks into the woods. Money does not motivate her, not this time. Neither anyone has paid for your head; instead she hunts you for one sole reason.

She’s obsessed with you.

Ever since your fateful encounter during a Brotherhood excursion, liberating enslaved mutants from a shady government three letter organisation, Sabertooth has yearned for you. As soon as your shock collar was removed, you started tearing into guards, claws and fangs bared as you slash and destroy all in your way. Blood in your mouth, not your own, frowning at her, your cautious and sharp eyes drinking her in- oh how Victoria wishes that gaze was upon her once more.

You ran as soon as you could, before Magneto could even attempt to recruit your viscous little self; so compact and spry, good for dodging and evading.

It drags her here, your little self, your heady scent of natural odor, the trail you leave behind. Surely, you must be baiting Victoria, surely you lead her here, surely that brief encounter left you wanting more as she was left wanting more.

You’re pinned before you know it; head pressed into the snowy ground and a large, warm, muscular arm wrapped around your waist.

You thrash and struggle, surprised and violent at a moments notice. But Sabertooth only smiles, this is apart of the game, what fun would be a hunt if the prey didn’t fight back?

“Wait- wait- I know you!” You cry aloud, the snow near choking you. “You saved me! From the compound!” Confusion colors your voice, desperation seeping deep into your words.

Victoria smiles and leans low, taking a deep whiff of you, right in your neck, where your throat meets your shoulder. How easy it would be to just bite-

“That’s right, lil’ pup.” She growls out. “And I’ve found you-“

Rated: M, for violence, detailed-ish description of an injury, mentions of vomitting, unconsensual licking, and the allegory.

—-

The woman before was wild-looking. Her hair was long and tawny blonde, sticking up everywhere before coming down her back. Her eyes were such a dark brown, they were almost black, and you could hardly see the slit pupil. You didn’t like how familiar the brown in those eyes were. Her clothes were also strange, considering she was with a villain mutant group; black tank top and a full fur coat? What was she, a pimp?

The woman breaths in deeply, almost euphorically she smiles before her gaze settles on you again. You see her top row of fangs in her mouth.

“She smells like she’s been aaaaaalllllllllll over you…” she husky voice growls out.

“Who’s she?” You ask, voice quivering. You were not meant to be fighting, you were meant to stay on the ship but the comms went dead and you couldn’t feel Jean in your head so you left the safety of the jet in pursuit of your comrades.

In the snowy woods, you found this woman.

She laughs. Low and gruff, rumbling and gravelly. You could hear the danger in her laugh. “The pup; you’d be calling her Logan now.”

You still at the mention of your friend’s name. Logan and you had become close recently; with her constantly watching you and helping you around the mansion as you teach the various students. You do like Logan quite a bit, but that was a secret only for you to know (and possibly Jean with how snoopy she is).

“Oh?” The woman chuckles. “Struck a cord, huh? Don’t worry little thing…” the woman drawls, smiling widely, hauntingly. “She’s on her way now!”

You hear someone, impossibly distant from you, scream your name in a desperate fashion. Logan, somewhere in the woods.

“She’ll know this reminder is from me.”

“SABERTOOTH!”

And then your side erupts with pain. You didn’t even see the woman move.

Sabertooth smiles viciously down to you, eyes almost gone with how wide the slit had became. In your side, her three nails penetrate you in a white hot agony. You can’t even scream, it hurts so bad.

“Betcha she don’t finger you like this, huh?” She quips, inside your ribs she wiggles her fingers and you nearly vomit.

Logan, much closer now, roars your name.

You black out before she could reach you-

—-

“No serious damage done.” Jean had said.

You begged to fucking differ.

Sure, the razor sharp nails of Victoria Creed, aka Sabertooth, has left no infection and slipped between your muscles and tendons like a hot knife through butter; but damage was dealt.

You felt her inside you. You hear her vice, feel the heat of her breath when you least expect it. The wound heals and scars over and everyone you see the four bumpy lines on your side you grow nauseous.

Logan’s in the same train of thought as you.

Even after you had been officially discharged from the medical bay, Logan follows you like a dog. She checks up on you frequently, makes sure you eat, sleep, shower, not let yourself fall into a gut wrenching depression no matter how desperately you want to just to feel the relief of your sadness.

Sabertooth had fucked you up viscerally; she wasn’t just in your side, she was in your head.

It’s driving you crazy.

Without Logan around some nights, you just can’t sleep (you try to not think about how badly you miss the safety of Logan’s arms; how warm and heavy and comforting her scent is; how she doesn’t smell like Sabertooth, how most nights when she watches you sleep you feel her hot, heavy hand rub at your scars, how one night you feel the wet broad of her tongue lick your healed wound while she thought you slept-).

One night you managed to sleep; only to see phantom visions of Creed behind your eyelids, your brain fabricating awful memories of her finger-fucking your rib cage and you woke up screaming. Logan barrelled through your door, the sound of splintering wood and a full body impaction waking you from your fretful slumber. Logan stood at the foot of your bed, eyes wide and full of wrath, claws at the ready.

You hardly see her claws outside of battle, you thought idly as your throat was too sore to calm her down.

Again, that night, you fell asleep with Logan carefully holding you, her thumb brushing up against the raised skin on your side.

You wish it was Logan that defiled you. Logan you could forgive. Logan could gut you in a blind rage and you’d absolve her of her guilt readily. Instead you got her rival, a vindictive and frightening woman. You wish Logan could carve out whatever Victoria had left behind.

—-

And why not? You think, as you stare Logan down.

You’ve laid your case out, voice strained and heart heavy, about your idea.

And Logan had never looked more soft or vulnerable than the moment she rejected your proposal.

“I can’t.” She states softly, eyes almost wet. “I can’t hurt you, let alone on purpose, sweetheart, please-“

“She-“ you interrupt, angry at Creed for doing this to you and at Logan for denying you peace, “she, is in me, Logan. Floating around in my head, in my organs, and I can feel her.” You stress.

You see Logan flinch slightly and a sickening thought crosses your mind.

“Can you smell her on me?” You ask, voice raw, “Still? Even now?”

“You’re still you.” Logan hastily relays. “You still smell mostly like you, it’s fades every day-“

And once again, you’re violated by the villain. No wonder Logan’s been forcing her clothes on you, having you shower daily; she’s been trying to get the scent of her enemy off of you for weeks-

You gasp a sob. “Logan, please!”you beg. “I can’t keep doing this! I need her out of me, I need someone I trust inside me, I can’t keep letting invade my every waking thought! All I hear is her laughing!”

Logan looks at you, desperate, a rebuttal in her mouth.

“I am this close to carving her out myself-!”

“Okay! Fine! Jesus do not do it yourself!” She pleads, throwing her hands up. She huffs a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. “We’re doing it my way, okay, safely-“

“Oh god thank you!” And you rush her into a hug, crying and clutching the taller woman for support.

Logan sighs and hugs you back, a touch tighter than her careful squeezing.

—-

There’s antiseptic and cotton balls lining your side table, along with rolls of white bandages. Logan has her claws out, letting the rubbing alcohol on them dry to disinfect them. She wasn’t kidding, despite how gruesome the request you made, she was doing it safely. Logan was prepping this like a surgery.

Eventually, she sits on the edge of your bed, and eagerly you scramble into her lap.

She looks grim, determined. “Ready? This hurt.” She warns.

You scowl. “At least you warn me.” You hiss, wiggling your hips against the woman to get closer.

Just barely, a blush flushes over Logan’s cheekbones and her eyes flash with rage before cooling back down.

Her eyes were the same color as Victoria’s, but a shade lighter in tone. It was similar, almost uncomfortably so.

Claws still out, Logan assists you in shimmying your shirt off. Once bare to her, the flat underside of her claws slide against your ribs.

Your stomach turns and your force yourself not to gasp at the intimate situation you were in.

“If you wanna squirm and scream, that’s fine.” She assures. Most of the team was gone to find Creed, you’ve been actively avoiding the task. So right now there’s hardly anyone in the teachers’ quarters beside you and your companion.

You nod in understanding, mouth dry.

Logan nods as well, face set into a neutral expression. You don’t know what would be worse for you, her enjoying this or hating it.

The tips of the claws pride you gently, before slowly pushing into you.

‘Betcha she don’t finger you like this, huh?’

Fucker, you think, your fingers digging into the shoulders of the woman doing this tremendous favour for you.

Logan stops, claws shallowly resting in you. You realize with a shaken heart she’s trying to stop.

“Deeper.” You demand.

“Sweetheart-“

You wiggle uncomfortably, the claws entering you a quarter-inch more, and Logan scowls.

“Please, she’s in deep.” You beg, almost sobbing from your high emotions.

Logan’s bottom lip trembles an iota and she moves her fist closer to you, her claws going in further.

You gasp when they reach where Victoria reached. “Stop.”

Immediately, the claws are out of your side, Logan is pressing a towel to your ribs and she places you on the bed.

“You’re okay.” She assures, voice and body tense. “You’re fine, you’ll be fine-“

You smile loonily.

You can’t hear Sabertooth anymore.

Logan frets over you, bandaging your side, mumbling encouragements and words of clumsy comfort. She pets your hair and gently slaps at your face when your eye lids slip close.

“Wake up, sweetheart, look at me.” She demands. “How do you feel?”

Feel? You feel relieved, you feel free. You feel adrenaline and exhaustion and arousal, your thighs rubbing together.

Logan twitches slightly and continues to dress your wound.

“Do I smell like you now?” You ponder aloud.

Logan stills slightly to look at you, face unreadable.

She responds, monosyllabic and husky.

Dating HC’s

- Logan isn’t exactly a wine and dine gal; her version of dates are nights in and going to dive bars where she can show off and show you off.

- Very very vERY touchy. Needs to be touching you constantly. Hand on your hip, arm around your shoulder, holding hands, whatever. Skin on skin contact.

- Pull her by the belt loops. Do it. Forget whenever plans you had that day and do it. It drives her crazy, the subtle claim you lay on her, the show that you desire her too.

- Once you two get close enough, she either moves in with you or she moves you in with her. Depends who has the nicer room (U-haul lesbian)

- Respectful towards you. She prides herself on keeping you comfortable. You don’t like motorcycles? She won’t even offer a ride on hers. Moves slowly? She settle with any boundary you have. Like privacy? She can accommodate you easily.

- Wear her clothes and you’ll be doin nuthin but fuckin all day.

- Side not she makes you wear her clothes sometimes while you’re spit so she can find you faster if you get separated (feral wifey)

- It is almost impossible for her to say “I love you,” without it being a near death experience. She expects you to pick up on her true feelings, but don’t expect her to verbalise it until the situation is dire. She takes the words seriously and doesn’t dish them out easily, even if you do.

- Is very aware she is heavy and tries to never put her full weight on you unless you want to. Is very away how sharp her claws are and avoids even having them out around you. Once away from people she’s still gruff just softer.

Nibble

Rated: T for some stuff

—

It started out as just a peck on the cheek; a congrats for playing nice with Scott in the Danger Room.

But Logan seldom left well enough alone, and she asked for a kiss on the lips, but she said please do you obliged.

Now you’re here. Sitting on her lap, grinding wildly against her, making out like two teenagers that finally got alone time.

An idea played in the back of your mind, as Logan broke away from your lips to duck down and swipe her tongue over your flesh covered artery. You’ve thought about doing something similar to Logan for weeks, ever since she remarked about how much she loved to see you with her hickies.

So when Logan brings her face back up to you, you shifted, scooting back further to her knees and sticking your face into the space beneath her chin.

“Babe, the fuck are you doing?”

Embarrassed slightly, and impatient, you huff hotly into the skin of your s

Girlfriend. She shutters ever so slightly, and tried to look down on you, you could feel her chin pressing into your crown.

You didn’t wanna talk, you wanted to get even with her.

To stop whatever plan Logan was formulating, one of your hands shot up, and the heel of your palm pushed into the point of Logan’s chin. You could feel her teeth clack together, hear her suck in a breath at the sudden pain.

But you kept pushing, unapologetically, until the expanse of her neck was exposed fully to you.

She says your name through forced clenched teeth, but you persist.

You kiss the side of her neck above her shirt collar gently once, before opening your mouth wide and biting down. She does it to you enough, it only seems fair to do it to her.

Logan gasps and jerks, letting out a groan when you begin to suckle on her skin.

Her fingers dig into you more harshly, dragging you back to where you were before, flushed against her.

“Shit- since when were you so bold?” she grinds out, grinding you down on her lap.

You only hum, and sit up.

The damn bruise was already beginning to fade slightly; fucking regenerative mutation; but you did in fact successfully mark your girlfriend.

Logan’s brown eyes bore into, hot and unreadable. There’s a tense moment of silence until one of Logan’s hands leave your side and she begins to further unbutton her shirt.

I will say this on the matter

Just because she can’t literally breed you

Does not mean she won’t try her hardest to.

Since it was Logan who went back in time in DoFP; I think it’d be reader who wouldn’t remember Logan.

And Logan would be devastated. The whole reason she went back was to ensure a safe life for you, and you don’t even know who she is. Logan is saddled with loving memories you two no longer share, memories that never existed for you in the first place.