#Marvel Smut

[myfictionaldreams]

Edge of Glory // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Defiance is something you are not accustomed to, but when the love of your life is in danger, there is no stopping you. Now, the repercussions of your actions have you contemplating the decisions that you've made.

Requested by: My bestie, thank you for giving me the spark and motivation to continue writing!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, fluff, threesome (F/M/M), BDSM, punishment, sensory deprivation, crying, overstimulation, begging, edging (!), subspace, restraints, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, praise kink, degradation, aftercare

Words: 6.5k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Masochist: someone who enjoys pain. That word echoed in the forefront of your mind as your muscles strained and ached from the exertion. Deep breath in and out, shoulder joints rolling to ease the stiffness in your neck as your arms are raised in defence once more.

It’s not that you were averse to pain; in the right circumstance, pain could be mixed with pleasure or have a reward such as a tattoo or piercing. However, the pain that came with working out, forcing your muscles to move to their limits, and lungs burning with the movements were things you were not used to or could say you were enjoying at the present moment. Hence why, the woman in front of you, with stunning red hair and a bright, taunting grin, was being labelled a masochist because there was no way you could fathom that she was enjoying any moment of this, but the sharp laugh she released had you shaking your head in concern.

“Again,” she ordered breathily, her arms remaining at her side as she carefully stepped around the thin mat positioned in the centre of the office. The chairs and table are pushed against the wall, giving you more space.

Taking an exaggerated deep breath, ignoring that fire that coated the inside of your lungs, you lunged towards Natasha, looking as if you were going to grab her by the shoulders, but in the last second, you dropped to your knees. With surety and remembering the instructions of your mentor, who watched from the sidelines, you tackled your friend to the floor.

With the rush of air that escaped her lungs, you knew you’d taken her by surprise and couldn’t help the shit-eating grin across your face as you stared triumphantly down at Natasha.

Within a single blink, an unnatural grunt was forced from your no longer smiling lips as Nat was quick to swap the positions, causing your body to roll and her now hovering over you with both of your arms pinned on either side of your head.

“What now, Sugar? Try and get out of this one”, she taunted as her flaming hair framed her beautiful face. With a surge of adrenaline, you were able to swing your hips up, pushing her body away enough to kick your knee up. Natasha, the ever-professional bodyguard and part-time assassin, knew your next move and could twist both of your legs together until you were thoroughly held down with no hopes of escape. “Come on, you know how to get out of this hold, just think”, Natasha continued to tease, holding onto your limbs tightly.

The panic of being held down with the pain pulsing through your muscles, you couldn’t think straight, couldn’t even think of another way out, let alone the right way. Turning your head to the side to look towards your mentor, you were suddenly turned as Natasha forced your body onto its side as she tuts, “No cheating, don’t look for Wilson for the answers, use your head!”

“I can’t; I give up,” you grumbled as your face smushed into the cool mat, finding some relief in the lower temperature. Relief instantly eased into your limbs as Natasha released her hold on you, and you flopped face-first on the floor. “Thank you.”

“You did well today. You finally got me onto my back, which most can’t say. Good job!” Natasha praised you as she moved to grab a drink. You’d intended to raise a thumbs-up in her general direction, but all you could manage was flop an open palm onto the mat and continue to lay there.

The next voice that praised was Sam, your mentor and personal bodyguard, as he reprimanded Nat, “You didn’t have to play dirty; the hold was for next month's teaching, Romanoff”.

“Whoever said I played fair”, she teased, her voice sultry and low as she gently pushed against Sam’s shoulder. 

Not that you were particularly listening as you breathed deeply in the middle of the floor, becoming so relaxed that you contemplated having a nap. Except someone had other ideas as large, firm hands scooped beneath your body, causing you to groan dramatically as you’re lifted until sitting sideways in his lap, your face resting carefully against his shoulder as warm arms wrapped around you.

Steve held you closely, gently kissing the top of your head as you breathed him in, finding comfort in his cologne and warmth. For a moment, you admired the parts you were touching, from the firmness of her muscular body to the coarse, dark blond facial hair that rested against your temple. Lifting your heavy head, your lips pressed against the thick column of his neck, you asked, “Did I do good today, or is she just saying that because she has to?”

The brief grunt of a laugh that Steve released had your insides warming, especially as the vast chest you were resting on vibrated, nothing to you was more attractive than being the reason for your partner laughing. Once again, Steve kissed the top of your head gently before answering, “You did do good today, baby. Even though I don’t see the point in you having to learn all of these moves. There’s a reason why I hire all of my friends and colleagues to be your bodyguards you know”. 

You sigh into his neck, reaching up to play with the curling blonde wisps of hair at the nape of his neck, “I know but it still can’t hurt to know some self-defence, especially when, oh I don’t know, two of the most wanted and dangerous men in all of Brooklyn are my boyfriends”.

Steve hums against your forehead but you can feel him smiling. It’s not that you wanted to become as highly trained as either of your boyfriends or your bodyguards but with the way the company and job roles that everyone was playing, it was probably for the best that you had some skillset for defending yourself.

“Anyway,” you continue, leaning back slightly in his hold so you can look up into his bright sky-blue eyes. Maybe I’ll be good enough to get you or Bucky onto your backs one day. “The brightness in Steve’s eyes seemed to darken as his eyelids lowered. His gaze sharpened down to your lips, and you knew the hunger in his eyes wasn’t for food.

“Baby girl, if you wanted me on my back, all you had to do was ask”, as he spoke, he dragged you down as he led, your body now covering over his chest, legs shifting until you’re straddling over his waist. Pushing up against his firm chest, you grinned down at him, already feeling the warmth radiating from between your legs as you clenched in arousal.

“Hey! No fornicating on the gym mat!” Natasha shouts, interrupting the heated exchange for a second.

Not that this at all differed, Steve as his hands skimmed over your legging-covered thighs, massaging the muscles as he then settled over your hips, pushing your lower body down so that you could feel all of him, hard and pulsing between your legs.

As a moan of need slipped past your lips, a multitude of events happened. Every phone in the room, except yours, pinged with a single notification and all warmth, happiness and lust ceased to exist as this was never a positive text. Steve reached beneath your thigh to retrieve his phone from his trouser pocket. Reading it briefly before beginning to sit up.

Staring around the room, you could feel the energy was anything but positive from the frown now marring Natasha’s face.

Bucky, the tightness in the centre of your chest became unbearable as your eyes darted back to Stee, who was now carefully trying to stand between you. No words were spoken, but they weren’t needed. Just from Steve’s exterior, you knew it was something regarding Bucky. He was supposed to confirm a deal—no action, just papers and signing.

“Please,” your voice was barely heard over a whisper as you took a shaky step toward Steve, who began clipping his guns back into the leather holster hidden behind his suit jacket. You weren’t entirely sure what you were begging for—some reassurance? To come with them? But Steve hardly even paused to look at you as he rushed past, his hand cupping your cheek before moving towards the door with Natasha in tow.

On instinct, you followed his steps as the thumping of your pulse in your chest tempted you drastically with the spike of adrenaline.

“Hold up, Boss Lady. We’re staying here,” Sam calmly reminded you as he carefully stepped into your line of sight. For a moment, you relaxed under his gentle gaze as you examined him, from his buzzed short hair to his black polo top and jeans.

“There’s no way I’m staying here, I know it’s Bucky. I’m going”, you spoke with all the authority you could muster whilst stepping around him. However now, it was Steve blocking your exit as he stood to his full height, staring down at you with pity in his eyes.

“You’re going to stay here where it’s safe with Sam. I’m not risking you”.

Shaking your head, you try to push past his towering body, but he doesn’t budge a single step. Grunting in frustration, your eyes ablaze, you stare up at him again. “Please, Steve, don’t leave me behind when Bucky’s hurt! I know it’s him; I can feel it.” You press your hand over your heart for emphasis. “Don’t leave me here. I’ll sit in the car. Please let me come with you!”

Steve opens his mouth but a shout from lower down the corridor interrupts him as Natasha informs him that the car is ready. Rough fingers cup your cheeks, tilting your face towards him further as he leans down to kiss the tip of your nose and then your forehead, “I will call as soon as I can, but you need to stay here”.

Steve leaves without any time for argument. It takes a total of ten seconds before you rush back into the office, collect a hoodie, phone, and car keys, and plan to ignore Steve completely and rush after them, following the GPS on his phone.

One small, or rather tall interruption came in the shape of one frowning bodyguard as he held onto the front of your shoulders. “No”. Simple, authoritative, and mostly effective. But not today.

Pushing past him, you made it another step before he grasped your inner elbow and pulled you back. “No, you aren’t following them. If Boss’s orders are to stay here, we are staying here. I’m sorry I know that’s not what you want-”.

“What did the message say?” Sam’s jaw muscles tighten as he closes his mouth, saying nothing and everything simultaneously. “Exactly. Bucky is in trouble, and I’m not staying here waiting for a phone call to say whether he's okay or not. At least if I follow and stay in the car, I can have immediate answers. So it’s up to you. You can stay here or do your job and protect me in the car.” 

You were never firm like this with Sam, who was not only your bodyguard but also your best friend. However, right now, with adrenaline pulsing through your veins, there was no way you were going to act rationally. Sam took a moment to battle himself internally before cursing lowly under his breath.

“Fuck. They are so going to fire me but fine but you listen to everything I say. You must stay near the car; if there’s any sign of danger and we need to leave, you go without question. Understand?”

“Yes, I promise. Now let’s go!”

On the way to wherever Sam was driving you, your nerves seemed uncontrollable. Your legs bounced, and your fingers wrung together in an attempt to calm down. “They won’t fire you, you know, " you said to try to distract yourself as the scenery became one of vast landscapes, greenery, and nothingness.

“Oh yeah? And how do you work that one out then?” 

“Because you’re still protecting me, no matter where we go. I have full trust in you, Sam, and I know they do, too. They’d be as lost without you as I would be.”

His face seemed to ease slightly as he reached across the centre console and gripped your fingers tightly, stopping your movements and reassuring you.

Entering into a derelict area, Sam reminds you again of your promise to stay close to the car as he parks, where you recognise Steve and a couple of other SUVs who have haphazardly parked outside of a warehouse. Stepping out of the vehicle, you remained close as promised, but Sam stood directly before you, his gun raised and prepared to be used.

It was silent. Entirely and utterly silent. There weren’t even birds singing in the trees nearby; only the wind rushing over your face as the hood flapping in the breeze kept you company. You wanted to talk, to replace the silence, but knew that would earn you a one-way ticket to being placed back into the car and removed from the area because what’s one way of announcing yourself to the enemies? Talking, that's for damn sure.

Your knuckles ached as you clenched your fist tightly, waiting and waiting. At one point, you had to lean onto Sam's back, rest your forehead against his back and take a few steady breaths to prevent hyperventilation as the worst thoughts came to mind.

A loud bang, you at first mistaken for a gunshot and therefore had Sam pushing you to the ground, but soon realised that it was the metal door slamming open. Voices then echoed into the open area. You searched over Sam’s shoulder, and men and women dressed in black began to exit the building. 

You recognise them as part of your team, and the muscles in your and Sam’s bodies relax as you shoot to stand up. However, once again, your bodyguard forces you back: “Easy, Boss Lady, give them a second.”

You knew what he was referring to, as neither of your boyfriends had yet to follow the team out of the building. Just as you were about to push past the protection in front of you and storm the warehouse, the loud door slammed again to allow Natasha, Bucky and Steve to exit.

The brunette man was being supported by the blonde and red-haired, limping on a foot that barely scraped along the floor. The relief that rushed through you was overwhelming as you slumped against the side of the car, sucking in easy breaths as all tension and tightness in your chest eased.

“Hang on, let me call her,” came Steve's distant voice. Before you could react, your phone began to ring loudly, filling the quiet within the area. The two of you had previously been concealed by the multiple vehicles, but there was no hiding that you’d gone directly against Steve’s orders now. The ringing instantly stopped, and you were suddenly face to face with your fuming boyfriend.

Before he could react or speak, you were darting around him and racing towards Bucky, who Natasha was holding up. A whoosh of air burst from his lips as he wrapped his metal arm around your shoulders, holding your body close to his as you breathed him in, gripping the back of his crisp, button-up shirt. He mostly looked the same as when he’d left you hours ago: a black suit, buzzed hair, and clean-shaven hair.

“You let her come?” Bucky asked with indifference and concern, directing the question to Steve, now a step away. You would have been sheepish and embarrassed, but the relief that Bucky was alive was overwhelming as you held him tighter.

“Do you really think I would let her come when you send a text like that?” Steve retorts back with frustration, lacing his words.

Bucky’s hold seemed to loosen slightly as he tried to defend himself: “I asked for SOME backup; I didn’t expect all of this to come! Especially not you.” At first, you assume he’s referring to Steve, but as Bucky gently pushes back against your shoulders, you realise he’s talking to you. Now, the full extent of your embarrassment flushes your cheeks with warmth as you refuse to meet his eye.

Staring down, Bucky is now resting some weight on his foot, which had previously appeared injured. “What happened to your foot? Are you okay? Where else are you injured? I need to see!”

As you spoke, your fingers ran over different body parts, ignoring the burning stare from Steve as you did so. Not happy with being ignored, he stepped forward, standing between Bucky and yourself as Steve cupped your cheeks as he did before leaving, forcing you to look and meet his stare.

Even though you could tell he was angry and frustrated, he was only ever soft and gentle with his touches as he demanded, “What are you doing here? I explicitly told you to stay behind and not to follow!”

Licking your dry lips, you emphasised, “I couldn’t stay at the office knowing Bucky was hurt! Sam was with me the entire time; I was completely safe!”

This was an entirely wrong thing to say to him. His glare turned to your bodyguard, who had remained by the car, leaning against it casually and holding his hands up in defence. “I couldn’t say no to her, alright? She was going to follow whether I liked it or not.”

“The command was to keep her at the office, where it’s safer than standing directly outside the conflict, Wilson.” You flinched at using his surname, something Steve tended not to do when it came to his longtime friend. “It should be fairly simple to read behind the lines and keep her there by any means necessary.”

Now it was your turn to have the fiery rage of anger in your glare as you snapped, “Excuse me? Stop talking about me like I’m not here. What would you have had him do? Tie me to a chair? I don’t think so-”

“That’s exactly what I would have expected him to do”, Steve cuts you off as he leans down so the tips of your noses rub together. “You know what? We aren’t discussing this out here, so get in the car. Please”, he added for good measure. Following his instructions, you climbed into the back of the SUV that you’d arrived with, Bucky following closely behind, sliding in beside you, Steve in the front with Sam driving.

The drive was tense and silent as you thoroughly checked Bucky. He had only slipped on blood and twisted his ankle, which was already nearly back to normal thanks to his healing abilities. You could see Steve’s jaw clenching from the front of the car as he shook his head in disappointment. “Why didn’t you listen to me?” he asked, turning in his seat to look at you directly.

Leaning into Bucky’s side, you didn’t back down from your reasoning, “I’ve already told you why.”

“I never give you orders, not in our personal lives or on the job, but this was important, and I needed you to listen to me.”

“What, so you expect me to just sit pretty at home and wait around all day for you both to come home? What’s the point in me training with Natasha if you don’t even give me the chance to help?”

Bucky's hand squeezed your thigh as he reprimanded, “That’s not what he meant, and you know it”.

 “I don’t think you understand how important your safety is to me. You never come to where the danger is, not out by the warehouse where something could have happened to you, too. You made a stupid decision by not listening to me.

 I can’t lose you, Bucky. I want a life where I know you are safe at home and can protect you or trust the people I pay to look after you. Anything I do now is to ensure I can provide for my family and keep them safe, which means keeping you safe. So, next time I ask you to please remain where there is no danger, I expect you to do so. Do I make myself clear?

“So I’m supposed to stay behind knowing you AND Bucky are in danger? Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that,” Steve answers like it's the simplest thing in the world. It wasn’t; it never was, and you struggled more and more with it every time either of them left to do anything related to the mafia.

There were a thousand things you wanted to say, to argue back to him, but through the fogginess of red, you couldn’t see and feel the urgency with which he spoke. He was scared. As scared as you were for Bucky and Steve, he liked to bottle this emotion up more than anyone you knew. As much as he craved the control of being the leader, you knew he was close to breaking.

Reaching forward, you cupped his face, not wanting to argue anymore. You knew he was saying these things and being firm because he was scared. “I will try, Steve. I’m sorry I scared you, and I’m sorry for not doing as you asked.” Thankfully, he nodded, the tension easing tenfold as he kissed the inside of your palm before turning around in his seat.

Returning to your home, you quickly had Bucky undressed and checked for any further injuries, knowing he liked to downplay them. His ankle, now only a slight yellow hue to the skin, could be moved without any flinching or pain voiced by him, but you sat with his ankle in your lap so that you could hold some ice to the area as he sat in his boxers. 

Steve had gone to shower but had yet to speak to you since being in the car. Guilt lay heavy in your stomach. It wasn’t an argument, but there was still a bitter taste in your mouth as you continued to think about him. Following Steve to the location was more an instinct than a logical thought. These two men meant the world to you.

A cool finger curling around the top of your ear had you pulling out of your thoughts, “What’s going through that pretty little head of yours, Doll?”

“I think I upset Steve”, you say, stating the obvious and leaning heavily into the back of the couch.

“You’ve upset us both”, Bucky reminds you, causing your head to snap in his direction, the unease making you feel queasy. “Woah, I didn’t mean it like that, Sweetheart. We aren’t angry with you; we just never want you to be in danger, you know that”. You nod your head in understanding. 

“I’m worried I’ve broken his trust in me. I should have just stayed back like he said”, you admit sadly. Bucky sits up hearing this, his muscles flexing, working as a quick distraction from your happiness as he moves closer, his metal arm working between your back and the couch so you’re being pulled into his side.

“I can understand why you wanted to come along and check on me, but we know what’s best in these situations. We’ve been doing this a long time, Doll. Everything will be fine. I’ll go and speak to him, and I know he still trusts you; he just needed to clear his head a little bit.” 

Bucky stands, testing his weight on the foot that looks practically healed, before leaning down, kissing your temple, and jogging up the stairs. A few minutes pass before he returns with a grin on his handsome face. 

“He’s fine, exactly like I’d told you. Come on, it’s getting late; let’s go to bed.” Taking his warm hand in your own, you followed willingly. Not realising how exhausted you were from the high emotions of the day and the previous workout at lunchtime, you now thoroughly looked forward to falling into your soft bed with both your partners wrapped around you. 

Bucky stepped into your bedroom first, followed closely by you as you automatically moved towards the en-suite to prepare for bed. In your haste, you did not notice the tall, muscular man waiting for you until his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your body back against his hard. Squeaking in shock, you soon melted into the hold, especially as Steve’s other hand cradled the front of your throat.

“I’m sorry-“ you’re forced to stop talking as his hand covers your mouth. It was only then that you realised that he was utterly naked, as evidenced by the hardness stabbing into your lower back as you leaned into his hold.

“No talking now, baby girl. Bucky told me what you said downstairs, and let me start this by saying there’s no one I trust more than you, so I never want you to think negatively about that ever again. Next, as much as I’m over the day, I think some repercussions need to happen, don’t you agree, Bucky?”

Stepping so he was standing in front, you watched as Bucky began to slowly remove his boxers until the thick length of his hardened cock sprang up and pointed in your direction. Thankfully, Steve continued to hold you up as your knees began to feel weak with the need to drop to them and please your boyfriend as he licked his lips, nodding his head. “Yeah, I’d say someone has earned a punishment after not listening to orders today”.

Punishment. That one word has you snapping out of the lustful gaze as you try to pull away from Steve. “Shh, easy, Sweetheart. It’s not going to be a painful punishment. I need you to trust me; you trust me, right?”

The fingers covering your lips move enough for you to agree, “Yes, I trust you both quickly”.

“Good,” Steve proudly responds before forcing your legs to move with him. You’re facing the bed now and see that the quilt and pillows have been removed and restraints attached to each corner. “Arms up,” your boyfriend asks, and you comply.

Carefully, the two men begin to strip your clothes until you’re as nude as they are. A shiver runs up your spine as you’re led down to the centre of the bed. Steve begins to remind you of the rules as Bucky tightens the straps around your wrists and ankles until you’re completely tied down.

“We won’t cover your mouth, so you can tell us to stop at any time or red and amber as usual. You can also shake your head, and we will stop, do you understand?”

“Yes”.

“Yes, what?” he says with his eyebrow raised expectantly.

Swallowing audibly, you wished at that moment that you could reach out to touch him as you all fall into the role perfectly. “Yes, sir”.

“Good. Do you have the blindfold, Bucky?”

A black satin eye mask is carefully placed over your eyes until all you can see is darkness. This is followed quickly by headphones that begin to play classical music.

Sensory punishment was their plan, and you couldn’t help but feel trepidation build in your core. You couldn’t touch either man, only the softness of the bed sheet beneath. You couldn’t hear them talk, moan, or specifically praise, which you always worshipped when with the two of them. Without sight, there was no way you’d know when or where they would touch you.

It was a vulnerability that you’d learned to have complete trust in Steve and Bucky.

There was one more twist as leather began to stroke down the centre of your chest in a gentle caress—gloves. Whoever was touching you had put on leather gloves, which meant there was no determining who was touching you. Usually, Bucky’s metal hand would then indicate who was who.

With a heavy breath, you tried to calm your nerves as you focused on the touch as whoever it was explored your chest. Delicate strokes of the gloved palm ran over your breasts, pressing into the softness of your chest and then pinching your already hardened nipple. 

The anticipation and thrill of the situation meant that your upper thighs were already sticky with your arousal. Moreover, there was no covering this with how your legs were spread, and you knew that Steve and Bucky were probably staring right at it.

The mattress dipped between your spread legs as someone crawled between them. The deep breath you were drawing in stilted as firm hands cupped each of your ankles, exploring the skin as they ever so steadily moved to your inner thighs. Trembling was an understatement with how much the anticipation was pulsing through you. The image of a naked Steve and Bucky flicked in your imagination, feeling utterly vulnerable under both of their eye.

Your clit pulsed with desire, awaiting a touch, flick, lick, anything; you were desperate for any sort of touch to ease the ache that was burning through your cunt.

It wasn’t any of these touches, though, that greeted you. It was a raw, penetrating cock stretching you to your limits as it inched in. Your back arched with the intrusion, arms and legs pulling on the restraints with the movement as you tried to adjust to the intrusion.

The words ‘Bucky’ and ‘Steve’ continuously begged from your lips as inch after inch pushed further inside. It hurt to be stretched, but it was a burn that you needed and craved, the blinding pleasure that came with it almost acting as a drug to cover the pain. Maybe you did like pain after all.

Heaving in a breath as the weight of the mysterious hips fitted perfectly in with yours, spreading your thighs further apart. The sensation of the cock being completely inside felt almost like it was too much, and you were sure you had spoken those words out loud, but the noise was muffled with the music continuing to play in your ears.

A sharp sting across your breast had you almost biting the tip of your tongue as you clenched tighter around the hardness inside your walls. Teeth. Sharp teeth nipping at the soft tissue surrounding your nipple came as a welcome distraction.

The first thrust was driven with power, deep and blinding with pleasure, as whoever it was did not hold back, and it was just what you needed. Fast and hard seemed to be the theme of the night as your body moved with the fucking, your hips attempting to roll with the movements, but heavy hands pushed down on your waist, keeping you thoroughly pinned in the centre of the bed.

You were at their mercy. The punishment aspect seemed to be more a reward than anything negative as you accepted every ounce of pleasure both men were willing to give you. The pulsing of your walls increased with the thrusts until that beautiful sensation built, tightened and ready to explode into a sympathy of bliss.

Except, just as your orgasm was about to peak, all hands and cock disappeared from your body, leaving your body cold and empty. Whining and pulling against the restraint, you could do nothing but feel the squeezing of your cunt in the attempts to chase the orgasm fades to nothing.

It truly dawned on you now. The sensory restraints weren’t the punishment. The lack of an orgasm was. Regret already was writhed with the begging coming from your mouth, but it was ignored as the hands resumed their wondering of your breasts and a cock fucked back into you.

With the overwhelming sensations, you were unsure if it was a different cock or the same. You were so thoroughly turned on that the wetness that was coating your cunt and upper thighs aided with them fucking inside of you.

On and on, the pleasure continued, fucking and pausing until finally, whoever it was that was inside of you had reached its limit and quickly pulled out, and a warm, wetness began to coat your stomach.

Steve or Bucky had just come over you instead of inside as you’d preferred. It felt dirty. Degrading and once more added to the punishment as you continued to try and wiggle your hips to continue chasing your pleasure that never peaked. However, there wasn’t even a moment to contemplate this as you’re being fucked once more, presumably by the other boyfriend.

It was an endless cycle. Edged to the point of orgasm before it all comes to a stop, just to have cum sprayed over your abdomen. Usually, Steve and Bucky’s heightened libido was a blessing, but tonight, as they fucked on and on, cumming again and again, you were quickly losing your mind.

The caressing over your nipples thankfully lessened as you could feel the blindfold over your eyes dampen with tears of overstimulation and frustration. Yes, you could scream yellow or red, you could stop this all, but somewhere at the forefront of your mind, you wanted to take this punishment, and there was no one you trusted more than Steve and Bucky; once you had hit your limit, they always stopped. 

The layers of cum coating your stomach began to dry, causing your skin to feel irritated and tight. All the sensations going over your body became disorientating, leaving you feeling spaced and like you were lying on a cloud, suspended in the air, floating with no chance of returning to earth. Your hands were numb from the restraints, your lungs aching from crying and pleading to please orgasm.

Each breath only heightened that sensation until you were close to hyperventilating. A firm gloved hand rested in the centre of your chest, and the pressure helped to remind your spinning mind to slow your breathing as you sucked in a wet, heavy breath.

The fucking continued. It felt like hours had passed. Your cunt was swollen, drenched and sore. From the edging, fucking and touching of the leather-covered fingers. You were sure if this went on for much longer, you’d pass out, so you attempted to hide your face in your shoulder, but the large headphones stopped the movement.

More cum coated your middle, and as your body tensed with the anticipation of being fucked again, you couldn’t help but sob further when it never came. Instead, the headphones are removed from your ears, and the momentary silence causes you to shake your head with disorientation. 

“Easy, Doll. Slow your breathing for us; you did so fucking good; you did so well for us”, Bucky gently praised as he removed the damp blindfold. However, your eyes remained clamped shut as you stayed in that subspace.

Warm hands massaged your arms and legs, working the muscles until they tingled as the sensation returned to them as you were released from the restraints. “Careful, Baby, move slowly. That’s it, good girl”. Steve’s voice was calming and yet distant as your sobs echoed in your ears.

“Can you open your eyes for us? Let’s see those pretty eyes come on,” Bucky coaxed as his cool metal fingers stroked against your wet cheek. The touch was soothing and grounding, like the praising words and comfort. However, you couldn’t muster the energy to open your eyes, so instead, you nuzzled into his palm and concentrated on slowing your breath enough that the tears finally stopped.

What followed was utter exhaustion, physically and mentally. Thankfully, this is where your boyfriends shine as you’re quickly scooped into Steve’s arms, your head feeling heavy against his muscular shoulder, leaning further into his natural body heat as he carried you into the bathroom.

You were half asleep as he waited for Bucky to fill the bath with warm water, but as he carefully eased the two of you into the tub, did you wake enough to hiss through your teeth as the heat of the water surrounded your aching body. Even as the warmth soothed your cunt, as you naturally clenched, the soreness throbbing caused a pathetic whine to come from you.

Steve’s arms held you more firmly as he settled back in the tub, Bucky joining behind with his chest pressing against your side. After a couple of breaths, the water's warmth helped you relax until you were blissed out, the punishment long forgotten as you nearly fell into a deep sleep in their arms.

Aftercare was always something they did very well. Both men were so attentive and caring that you would have shed a tear with love and affection if you weren't already mentally numb. Bucky carefully washed your hair and then your body with his body wash, pine and citrus scent that gave you further comfort in these moments. Also, you secretly thought that Bucky used it as a possessive touch, loving it when you smelled like him and no one else.

Steve continued to whisper words of affirmation, helping to bring you out of the submissive headspace and back to reality whilst also trying to check in on your well-being. “Shake or nod your head for answers. Are you in any pain?”

Shaking your head no, you could feel the tenseness in Steves's posture relax as he kisses your temple reassuringly. “You took your punishment so well tonight. I’m so proud of you”. This particular praise had you smiling and leaning further into their touches. “I think that’s the longest you’ve been edged for as well. Do you want to cum? You aren’t being punished anymore, and I think you’ve more than earned a reward”.

You could hear the smile in his tone as you contemplated his offer. You were sore and aching, that was for sure, and you’d been begging for so long to have an orgasm all night, so with some uncertainty, you nodded against his chest.

With gentle touches, Steve turns your body so you’re now facing Bucky, your back pressed against the blonde’s sturdy chest. Carefully, Steve eases your thighs apart, and just as you anticipate the pain that is sure to come with being fucked by fingers or a cock, you’re crying out in pleasure as Bucky lowers his face and dives right in. 

Your eyes open in shock as your body jolts with the sensation of his warm, soft tongue circling your clit as you look down at Bucky, the lower part of his face beneath the water. You were so sensitive and so desperate to orgasm that he didn’t even need to come up for air before you were tightening and throbbing with bliss.

You’re left feeling sated, and your body turns to mush as you collapse back against Steve. You’re only half aware when lifted out of the water and carefully dried. An oversized, soft t-shirt is pulled over your head before you return to the bed.

With your face pressed to Bucky’s chest as Steve spooned you from behind, legs completely tangled with your own, your last thoughts lingered on the day's events. It seemed so did both of your boyfriends as they held you tighter, and an echoing of “I love you” was shared before darkness finally consumed you all. 

[freakrenaissance]

Best pocket dial EVER 🤤 oooh, baby. This wrecked me 🥵

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Ring Ring

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: Of all pocket dials ever, this might be the very worst.

Warnings: 18+. Utter filth (smut).

Words: 3,3OO

A/N: Dedicated to the wonderful @chaoticuno

A soft breath leaves your lips and you sink into your mattress as the buzzing between your legs makes your eyes flutter. Hips tilting slightly and your free hand dragging over your cotton sheets, you roll your vibrator over your clit, letting the thick instrument massage you into bliss slowly.

Hiking up your legs under the blanket and letting your shoulders relax and eyes fall closed, you tease yourself, bucking your hips slowly into the toy and alternating the pressure you exercise.

It doesn’t take long for you to rile yourself up and since you’re home alone, you allow yourself to let soft whimpers spill from your lips with every drag of the vibrator over your swollen nub, making you writhe under your sheets slightly.

This is when your brain starts to fail you, your minimum of concentration making you unable to focus on getting to your high. This is also usually the moment where you realise how stressed you are, because all you can think about is someone walking in or all the chores you still have to do on top of the errands you have to run.

On top of that, there’s this incessant buzzing interrupting your thoughts and it’s not from the toy currently between your legs. Besides, your vibrator could never get on your nerves. Unless of course, the battery runs out right before you hit your long awaited high.

But it’s something else. Like you left the TV on somewhere, which you are sure you haven’t. Groaning, you turn off the vibrator and try to focus on the sound, which sounds like someone talking – but it’s faint. That’s when you realise it is coming from your phone, which you had thrown onto your bed before hopping in yourself.

With a frown, you try to recollect your slightly fuzzy brain and remember whether you might have put on porn or something. But no. It’s worse, so much fucking worse.

You are currently in a call that has been going on for two whole minutes, with none other than your roommate Bucky. Your kind, yet not very approachable roommate who you are in a strictly platonic relationship with.

Heart pounding in your throat and panic running ice through your veins, you pick up your phone with trembling hands.

“Bucky?” You try to sound as normal as possible when you put your phone to your ear. You squeeze your eyes shut as you await the seriousness of the situation.

It is so much more likely that this was your pocket-dial, since you are hardly ever aware of your phone when it is hidden somewhere in the sheets, that having resulted in you making your bed and your phone being catapulted across the room after you forgot about it. But this does not stop you from hoping – praying – that Bucky might have pocket-dialed you and you pocket-answered him.

“Hey. Am I calling at the wrong time?”

Yes.

“No. Go ahead.”

There’s a short pause before he starts speaking, but he sounds casual so you don’t question it.

“I’m at the store right now and was wondering if you need anything.” He explains and you breathe a sigh of relief. Even though he is the one that called you, maybe you had blocked the sound by laying on top of your phone.

“N-no. I’m fine. Thanks for asking though.” You mutter, your heart finally slowing down its demanding thump.

“You sure?” He asks and you nod even though he can’t see you.

“I’m sure, Buck. Thank you.” You assure him.

“Really? Because you sounded pretty needy a second ago.”

You freeze, a dull buzz rumbling through your ears as your heartrate skyrockets at the realisation. Covering your face with your free hand, your mind launches into overdrive to come up with an excuse, or a way out of some sorts.

Though you know damn well you’re in trouble and there is not an excuse in the world that could save your ass from this promising position. You remember the sounds you were making and there is no way it could have been mistaken for anything other than what it was.

Why Bucky decided to relentlessly call you out on it however, is something you hadn’t necessarily expected.

“Bucky… God, I’m so-”

“Horny?” He asks, his voice light and not at all bothered, and you faintly hear the ding of him leaving what you assume is the nearby supermarket, the low rumble of the city appearing in the background, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

You scrunch your eyes shut with a pained expression on your face. As thankful as you are for Bucky being so ‘understanding’, it doesn’t exactly make the embarrassment any less. You have no idea what to say or do and don’t feel nearly as confident and casual as Bucky sounds right now, making your body glow with heat.

“Are you in bed right now?” He asks and you’re sure you hear his voice more clearly than before.

As your frown deepens, you nod again before answering, “Yeah, I’ll-”

“Lie back for me.” It’s simple, the command soft.

“Bucky…” You warn, apprehension lacing your voice as you prop yourself up on the many pillows you collected on your bed.

“I think it’s best if you do as I say.” He answers, his voice leaving no more room for arguments “You better have your panties off.”

Your body is catching on quicker than your brain and you’re nodding with a soft hum, a thousand bells ringing in your head at his alarming tone and the situation you are currently stuck in.

“Talk to me. Are your panties off?” He asks and for some reason you can tell that wherever he is, he is alone.

“Yes.”

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Bucky.” The answer is so automatic, you almost feel betrayed by your body. It is almost like she’s done this before. But knowing Bucky and his skills, he might have subconsciously conditioned you. He did like getting under your skin and pretending nothing happened after.

“Good. Now why don’t you have a feel for me?” He asks coyly, his voice low and confident “Tell me how you feel down there.”

You swallow hard, unable to do anything other than follow the commands of his sultry voice, your eyes closing as you let your fingertips drift down to your folds and tensing slightly when the cold pads of your fingers finally make contact.

He must have heard a soft gasp from you, because he lays on another command “Run two fingers up and down, sweetheart. Just like you would want me to do.”

You nod again, not at all paying attention to what he can and cannot see before running your fingers through your folds, the slick sound faint and only audible to your own ears as the warmth from your throbbing pussy heats up your fingers.

That is when you finally relax, your body sinking back into your bed as you tease yourself and obediently wait for your next orders from a man you have officially instated as the person who may tell you what to do at any fucking time he pleases.

“I will not repeat myself, so I suggest you start talking me through what you’re feeling, darling.”

Sucking in sharp breath, his voice sending more slick to coat your fingers, you open your mouth to speak “Wet. Wet and warm, Bucky.”

The words are soft and shy, warmth almost burning the skin of your cheeks straight off as you push the words past your lips, the compromising position you are now in making you feel beyond timid.

“Hmm, I bet it is.” He rumbles, “It’s been a while since anyone has taken care of you, hasn’t it? Makes your pussy throb with desire, with need.”

You let out a whine in agreement at his words, realising that he wouldn’t appreciate it if you kept the shameful noise to yourself, and rub your fingers over your aching clit.

“Shh, I know…” He shushes and you keen at the way he treats you in your needy state, “Let me help you. I’ll make that worried little brain of yours relax, okay? All you have to do is listen to me. Can you do that?”

You nod again and quickly follow up with your words “Yes, Bucky. Please.”

The chuckle you hear from the other side of the line makes you almost curl up in a ball, the relentlessness of his power over you should be embarrassing. But you want to please him so badly, your entire body is aching for his approval.

“Slip a finger in, sweetheart. Notice how your needy pussy clamps down.”

You sigh deeply as you slip a finger into your tight heat and you instantly clench at the invasion, the way he is currently guiding you making impatience prickle at your skin and making you let go of all bodily control. It is almost like it’s his finger slipping in, since all you can focus on are his voice and the feeling inside of your body.

“Slowly move it in and out, circle your finger against your entrance.” You do as you’re told, your breathing becoming more and more shallow as you are sure you are now panting over the phone. “Deep breaths. I want you to open up for me with every breath out. I want you full.”

A soft keen leaves your lips and you can almost hear him smirk as you open up more, spreading your legs and feeling your finger slip in and out much more easily.

“Now add another finger and glide in deep, sweetheart. Your pussy will suck them in like the greedy girl she is.” He murmurs and you let out a soft moan as you slip another finger in, curling them both upward.

The filthy words that slip from his lips send a throbbing and painful ache between your legs that demands so much more attention than you are currently receiving.

“Move them in and out… In and out… Slowly. Controlled.I want you to build your high while you stuff that puffy cunt of yours.” You whimper at his words, hips bucking slightly as you steadily pump your fingers, your pussy aching from the stretch every time you are knuckle deep inside of yourself.

“Bucky, please… I need more!” You whimper and bite your lip, the frustration making you near delirious.

“Put me on speaker and put the phone down.” Listening to his commands, they settle into your fuzzy brain slowly before you follow them obediently, “Now I need you gently circle the middle finger of your free hand over your clit, can you do that?”

You let out a soft agreeing moan and do as you’re told. The soft stimulation to your clit has you twitching, the tiny nub screaming for attention as it throbs painfully.

“That feels good, huh? Now slowly circle it and add a little pressure. Don’t stop fingering yourself. I want to get you wet enough that I can hear it.” His words alone launch you closer and closer to your high.

The sensations are so delectable and as much as your body is protesting, you love the suspension Bucky is building for you. It’s like your clit is attached to his voice and with every word he speaks, a bolt of lightning electrifies your entire body and sweeps you higher into bliss.

“Go a little faster.”

Your breathing is heavy, your body tense as you wind it tighter with every movement. Soft moans are floating away from you and all shame is gone now, the pleasure too overwhelming and wonderful to not give in to.

Your fingers move faster, curling and dragging against your walls as two of your fingers rub firm circles over your swollen clit, the sensations making your eyes almost roll to the back of your head. Gasping for air as you crawl closer and closer to your impending high, you whimper out his name.

“B-Bucky. I’m… I’m -oh God...” Your voice is becoming raspier with the sounds forced through your throat and your breathing becoming harsher.

“Feels good, huh? You like following my commands?” His voice is cocky and warm and it make you throw your head back as you desperately work yourself to the edge “You want to come don’t you? Fuck, I can fucking hear how wet you are – Jesus Christ.”

You whimper again and your moans pitch higher and higher until you think you can’t take it any longer. But one word. One word from your roommate and your entire body listens to him in an instant – to your own surprise.

“Stop.”

“Bucky, no!”

He chuckles again, the sound echoing through your empty head like Satan himself is laughing at your demise. You want to cry out in agony as he orders you to take your fingers out, your chest heaving as you come down reluctantly.

“Bear with me, princess.” He almost whispers and you let out a soft whine, defeat lacing your tone as you let him know you have followed his order.

“Good girl.”

And suddenly, you know exactly why you follow his orders. Because hearing those two words from your judging, grumpy and hard-to-please roommate, who has the conviction of a certified Sergeant, turns you into putty within seconds, the warmth of the praise enough you make you melt into the warm sheets of your bed.

“Alright… Rub your clit. Slow circles. No pressure.” He explains, his voice almost pitiful as he guides you through it.

Complying to his order, you do as you’re told and gasp when you feel how close and sensitive you still are. The light touch feeling like a jab to your stomach from the sheer intensity and the state of alert that your body is in.

You whimper and whine softly as you follow his instructions, his voice faint in your ears as you focus on controlling your impending orgasm. Small mutters of ‘please’ and ‘let me come’ make heir way past your lips incoherently and you hear the comforting words coming from Bucky that calm your bloodshot nerves and irk them at the same time.

“Not yet, darling. Keep going. Add a little more pressure. Almost there.”

You have almost started holding your breath in anticipation, holding off your orgasm nearly impossible as you are one pressured stroke away from releasing.

“Stop.”

You cry out, and slam your fists into the bouncy mattress beside your hips, throwing your head back in frustration.

“Bucky. You can’t do this to me!” You exclaim, the thought of simply choosing not to obey him and get yourself off not even seeming to be an option anymore since your body simply won’t listen to you and you can’t bear the idea of Bucky being disappointed in you.

“Hmm… Go ahead then. Disobey me.” He taunts and you grit your teeth in annoyance, your clit still throbbing with frustration and need at the lack of stimulation.

Kicking the sheets off your body in an attempt to cool yourself down, the cold breeze hits your soaking heat and makes a shudder roll down your body. Bucky takes your silence as defeat once again and you can only imagine the pride beaming off him at the ease in which he controls your body and mind.

“Good girl.” There it is again. The one phrase that you would drop all your inhibitions for to receive, especially when it comes to the powerful, tall soldier living with you, “One finger. Trace it over your clit. Barely.”

Carefully you press the pad of your finger against your clit again and weep at the feeling as you hips twitch with the touch. Bucky gives you a low hum and allows you to add a tiny bit of extra pressure, only letting you add and release pressure upon your clit without actually rubbing it.

“How’s that feel?” He asks and his voice is almost sweet, giving you the sliver of hope that he might let you come this time.

“Good. But …painful. It’s a bit much.” You breathe and you hate how weak you sound. How utterly wrecked your voice makes you seem as it wavers and croaks slightly with every word.

“Your fingers are a bit much, huh?” He agrees like there is not a thing he has more knowledge about than your body and what it needs. Which, by the way he speaks and orders you around, you wouldn’t be surprised to be the case.

“Mhm…” You whine and he shushes you tenderly.

“Go on, rub yourself for me, sweetheart.” He coos and you massage two fingers over your clit attentively, sucking in a sharp breath of air as you do. “You listen so well to me, doing so good. I never knew my roommate could be so good to me. So sweet and sexy. All needy, just for me.”

You moan softly at the praises, pressing your head back into the pillow as you feel your high approach again, allowing your fingers to speed up slightly.

“You’re close, aren’t you? Yeah, you have been for a while now.” He mumbles, seemingly just to himself “I can hear how wet you are just by you rubbing your clit. I bet I could slip inside so easily…”

“Yes…” You hiss in a moan, arching your back at the mere thought of him inside of you when your pussy is throbbing and fluttering like it is now.

“You’d like that? Me, fucking your brains out?” He asks and your mind is swirling, focused on his voice and his voice alone as you let pleasure wash through you with your orgasm still pending “Might have a taste first, sweetheart. Bet you taste so good.”

Another soft cry from your lips has Bucky almost tremble with need and he grits his teeth.

“Go on then. Come for me.”

You have completely lost touch with how close you were until those words spill from his lips, the orgasm that hits you sweeping you off your feet and dragging you under.

As your fingers frantically rub your clit to push out the release, your entire body arches off the bed, an obnoxious and unstoppable moan stretching from your body when you come undone.

It is like the room is spinning, your vision washing white as your eyes roll back and heat unfurls inside of your body, warmth clamping onto you like a vice. Feeling pulses of pleasure convulse in your pussy and your abdomen clenching and trembling on their own accord, the experience is making you soar through another dimension.

That’s when you hear a door slam and a few seconds later, you get hauled down the bed with ease by a tight grip on your thighs. When your eyes fly open at the assault on your body, the aftermath of your orgasm still coursing through you, you prop yourself up on your elbows when you see Bucky kneeled on the floor at the end of your bed, your legs spreading you open right in front of his lust-blown eyes.

You don’t get to scream or yell at him about what happened, or what the hell he thinks he’s doing, because his greedy mouth is already on you, the heat of his tongue dragging through your slick folds soothing the ache of your orgasm. Trembling arms slip from under you and you collapse into the sheets, your back arching in time with Bucky sucking your clit into his mouth ardently.

As your hands glide into his hair – a feeble attempt to grab a hold of the man responsible for having you in the embarrassing state you’re in – he lets go of you briefly to look up at you. A white shirt sticking to your sweaty skin and face heated with pleasure, he can’t help but give you a proud, boyish grin.

“Lean back and get comfortable, sweetheart. That was one.”

[hyper-fixates]

Visions of a Life

Old Man!Logan x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 5.7k

Tags/warnings: age-gap due to logan’s mutation (reader’s age not specified), established relationship, mutant!reader, not canon-compliant, fluff, domesticity, explicit language, dry humping, brief unprotected sex, angst (and i’m not joking), soft!logan, groping, a few uses of “baby”, mentions & allusions to death (no one dies tho), descriptions of blood (kindly let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: What does an animal do when he’s sick? He goes away to die.

Notes: this was supposed to take a different route, but it just didn’t feel right as i went along…forgive me for being a bit of a LIAR 🙃

The dry Texas heat faded with each kilometre you travelled. The desert slowly turned into rangelands, and the rangelands eventually became the frozen, snow-covered ground of Alberta. 

The trip was only a couple days, and the stark change in weather almost made your bones nearly seize and shatter when you stepped out of the truck and were met with the sharp winter wind. 

The cold definitely made Logan’s bones ache more than they already do. 

Not even his red flannel and jean jacket can offset the negative temperature in the slightest. 

“Hm…wow. Cute,” you say in succession, taking a few slow steps toward the quaint cabin. 

It’s all dark, smooth wood that stands out amongst the bare, white birch trees and blue spruces that are covered in a light dusting of this morning’s snow.

The second thing you notice is the quiet. 

It’s so quiet. No neighbours, no highways—just silence, and the slight rustling of the wind through the tree branches. 

You’re deep in the bush, a spot near the south-west border that gives a partial view of the Rockies.

“Grab your bag,” Logan says as he shuts his door, the sound cutting violently through the still air. 

It’s almost eerily quiet. No chirping birds, no chittering squirrels, no howling wolves in the distance. Just you and Logan. Isolated. 

It’s everything he’s been yearning for since living in Mexico and spending more than enough time working in El Paso. 

It’s what he’s been missing desperately ever since living down south—Alberta—his real home. Yet it’s a place that holds no significance to you.

“Yes, sir,” you remark with a lazy, mocking salute of your hand, smirking at how Logan glares at you harmlessly as he walks by you to the cabin.

Logan decided it’s time. Time to come back. Time to be realistic about your future, or lack of, together.

He decided that he’s done fighting himself, and that there’s nothing left for either of you in Mexico even if it’s all you’ve come to know. 

He refused to let himself die in the desert and leave you with nothing but sand. There was no comfort there. No semblance of a promise.

The light snow crunches under your steps back to the truck, your breath swirling in small clouds around you. You yank your bag out from the backseat and slam the door as Logan did, hearing the sound echo into the wind before dissipating into nothing. 

If you focused heard enough, you could probably hear your heartbeat. That’s how silent it is.

“Creepy,” you mumble to yourself as you follow the imprints of Logan’s footsteps back to the cabin.

You go up the few rickety stairs, stomping your shoes clean on the equally rickety deck, and open the squeaky door. 

It’s definitely not a space that’s meant for more than two people.

It’s one level, open concept, and surely not heated by a furnace. The living room is directly to the left—you’re basically already standing in it—and a small kitchen is off to the right. The single bedroom straight ahead is the only room besides the bathroom that’s hidden behind walls and a door. 

And that’s it. Simple. Efficient. No walls, no doors, save for the bedroom and bathroom. It’s surprisingly intimate. 

“Please tell me there’s heat,” you lament, watching Logan dust off the few surfaces of fixtures and furniture as you toe off your wet shoes. 

Logan gives you a look. “There’s a fireplace.” He gestures to the barren, ash-filled pit that sits at the bottom of the chimney in the corner of the room. 

Above it, a mantle with a little T.V. “Cable?” You wonder aloud. This place is already more luxurious than what you had in Mexico, but at least in Mexico you didn’t have to worry about freezing to death in your sleep.

Logan limps along to the bedroom with his bag. “Satellite.” 

You suck your tongue against your teeth, following Logan to the bedroom. When you step through the doorway, you almost cackle. 

“Oh for fucks sake. We are never gonna fucking fit on that, Logan. Oh my God,” you moan in disbelief at the size of the bed. “You’re probably not even gonna fit on it.” Your voice pitches a little in exasperation. 

The mattress was maybe a twin. Maybe. It’s propped up on a thin metal frame that creaks and groans as you experimentally lean forward on your hands and bear some weight on it. 

“I do.” He tosses both your bags on the outdated armchair in the corner of the room. 

Your entire lives are in those bags. You only brought what you needed and what could fit. There wasn’t much to bring along from Mexico besides clothes and the necessary toiletries anyway. Anything else can be found and replaced back in town if needed.

He steps back to the bed next to you. “Relax. There’s always the couch,” he points out. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

You have never slept apart—he knows that—and that’s definitely not going to start now. This time is precious. 

You briefly recall the worn couch sitting in the middle of the living room in front of the fireplace: it’s a brown and red plaid pattern, probably from the 80s, and four cushions long. 

This cabin was stuck in time just as much as Logan likes to say he is.

“Help me grab some wood to get a fire going,” he says, giving the top of your head a chaste kiss. “It’s supposed to snow again tonight.” He slips past you out the doorway, the warm, lingering touch of his hand on your shoulder sends a shiver through your body. 

You saw a decent stack of pre-cut logs piled in the other corner of the living room when you came in, and you wonder who’s been taking care of things here while Logan’s been down south. 

The wood looked fresh, but the dust on the coffee table and window ledges suggests no one’s been here for months.

You figure that dust is the least of Logan’s worries right now.

━━━━

The fire crackles and pops softly, the bright light from the T.V. illuminating the dark room as you comfortably watch the Flames game horizontally—on Logan—from the outdated couch. 

The warmth from the flickering orange blaze in the chimney blankets you both, almost trying to melt you together like wax.

Logan lies on his back, legs spread to accommodate your body as you lay stomach-to-stomach, using his chest as a pillow while he uses the well-worn armrest as his. 

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 2-2. You can feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep even though the analog bird clock hung next to the T.V. shows it’s barely 11 p.m. 

You know Logan isn’t asleep because he’s tracing a finger slowly up and down your spine. That’s what’s putting you to sleep, but the obnoxious ads pull you back into consciousness when the game cuts to commercial each time. 

Despite the volume of the T.V., you can still hear the rattling in Logan’s lungs with each breath he takes. 

The ear that’s pressed against his chest picks it up easily; it’s otherwise undetectable if you aren’t right up against him. 

You don’t want to forget that this isn’t, in fact, a fun little vacation that you’ll both return to Mexico from. This is where Logan will spend the rest of his days with you. There is no going back to Mexico, no future anywhere but here within these walls. 

Logan will die here. Like he wants to—at home, with you, surrounded by snow.

“Are you tired?” You say quietly. Your eyes aren’t even open as you ask.

A small chuckle makes your head vibrate. “I’m always tired,” he rasps, his voice rumbling deeply in his chest against your ear.

“Want me to put you to sleep?” You offer, thumbing the material of his flannel, eyes still closed.

He shifts, adjusting his neck. “No. I’m fine,” he explains, and you’re curious to see if he will fall asleep as easy as you can make him.

All it takes is a touch of a finger and a whispered command for him to slip into near unbreakable unconsciousness that lasts throughout the night. 

You hum. “If you need it, just wake me if I’m asleep,” you reassure. 

Almost every night in Mexico you’d knock him out cold, only you didn’t have to use a punch to do so. The press of your finger against his temple was enough. If he was in better health maybe it would take a bit more concentration and demanding, but it’s quick, nearly effortless.

Somnous is all you need to say—sleep. And his body can’t resist the surge of the pseudo-sedative that comes from within you.

━━━━

A chill that you’ve never felt before wakes you. It’s one that can only come with negative temperatures seeping back into the cabin.

Your body tenses and you peel your eyes open. The faint glow of red coals pulsing in front of you quickly tells you that no one made it off the couch last night, that no one slept on that sad excuse of a bed in the next room.

You and Logan are right where you left each other.

Logan breathes steadily under you, that rattling in his lungs still present even in sleep. It never wavers. It will never go away.

You try to carefully peel yourself off of him, stifling a groan as your limbs stretch and twist for the first time in hours. The tightness in your shoulders makes you clench your teeth. 

A few pops and cracks release from your joints, and then you’re free from Logan’s warmth. From the looks of it, he seems comfortable, but you know he’s going to complain about his back and neck as soon as he wakes up.

Thankfully, you’ll help him with that, just like his sleep. Just like you do with everything else. 

Remedium, you’ll mutter as your fingers trace along his temple. Relief.  

You can fix the superficial—a sore neck, a headache—but you can’t fix something that’s as embedded and chronic as what’s killing him.

You’re the cure. The cure for everything except whatever is festering inside him. He says it’s the adamantium, that it’s poisoning him, but you can’t say for sure. 

The early morning sun, all pinks and oranges, shines brightly through the large windows around the cabin. Then you see the snow falling.

You tip-toe to the window across from the couch. It’s been snowing since 3 a.m., but you weren’t awake to see it start.

Thick, fluffy snowflakes wisp around in the light wind and you lean closer to the window to get a better look at the scene outside.

You arrived late in the afternoon yesterday, missing the morning snow that blanketed the ground and decorated the trees.

Logan’s seen many winters come and go, and you’ll see just as many after he’s gone. Well, maybe not as many.

A deep groan fills your ears. “Ah—fuck,” Logan growls, pulling himself to sit up from the couch.

You skip excitedly over to him, bending down to cradle his head in your hands and press your thumbs against each temple, your lips meeting the top of his head in a brief kiss.

“Remedium,” you whisper into his hair, and he makes a satisfied sound in response as his body adjusts and fixes itself.

You move down to kiss his forehead, ruffling a hand through his bushy grey hair before pulling away and going back to the window to watch the snow spiral and churn in random shapes and patterns.  

A grumbled “thanks” is heard over your footsteps. He’s probably not even fully awake yet. 

“Look at the snow. Look,” you say in awe when you hear him shuffling along the creaky floor behind you.

It doesn’t look like anything special to Logan. He’s seen every type of snow, every type of storm Alberta has to throw his way; however, this may be the most mundane snowfall he’s seen that he can remember.

“What about it?” He says. He doesn’t know what’s got you so excitable. 

You look at him over your shoulder. “I’ve never seen a snowfall before,” you explain. “The snowflakes are so fat,” you chuckle as he comes to rest a hand on your lower back, peeking through the window over your shoulder at the snow dancing in the wind.

“Mhm, it’s nice.” He still doesn’t get it. “Go get ready. There’s more wood coming in a bit,” he dismisses with a gentle kiss to your cheek, dense beard poking into the plush skin.

He goes to the bedroom. You should follow, but you keep watching the snow.

In the moment, you don’t realize that while this is your first snowfall, it’s probably Logan’s last.

━━━━

The man who brings the firewood is also the one who’s been “looking after” the cabin for Logan.

They’ve known each other for years, decades, and the man has been doing monthly check-in’s despite Logan not even being in the country.

Logan muttered something about cage fighting, explaining how he knows the man and the bar he owns in town.

You make a face, one filled with curiosity and confusion. “Cage fighting?”

“It was a long time ago,” he defends, tossing the last logs onto the now vast pile in the living room. You now understand why the room is as big as it is.

“Still keeping secrets, huh?” You joke, wiping your hands on your sweater.

A new fire burns strong in the chimney, preparing the cabin for the wind storm that’s meant to hit in a few hours.

“It’s not important.” Logan unbuttons his flannel—today it’s a dark red one; truly Canadian—and strips to his white tank-top underneath. 

It’s almost jarring to see him in anything other than a white dress shirt and blazer.

He throws the flannel on the back of the couch, overheated from the fire and throwing logs. A vicious cough catches in his throat for an exhale or two before it finds its way out.

“You okay?” You ask calmly, walking up to him and rubbing a hand up and down his bicep. His skin clammy and damp from sweat.

“I’m fine.” Another aggressive cough. “I’m fine,” he emphasizes, mostly to reassure himself.

You both know he’s not okay. That’s why you’re here, after all. But you can’t stop yourself from asking.

━━━━

The wind storm knocked out the power.

The raging fire will probably be your only source of light for the rest of the night and into the morning.  

So, without power, there’s not much to do. But, you and Logan sit on the floor with him resting against the front of the couch. You sit between his legs, feeling the heat of him on your back while you watch his arms reach over and around you to set various sized coins on the coffee table to entertain—and educate, as he would say—you.

“That one’s so big,” you point out, reaching for the gold coin. 

Logan wants to make a joke so badly, but he settles for a small smile at what little he can see of your perplexed expression from the side, resting his chin on your shoulder every couple minutes and occasionally pressing little kisses to your neck and jaw just to remind himself you’re actually here.

You pick up the gold coin and turn it over in between your fingers, watching it shine in the firelight. 

The bird on the face of the coin is unfamiliar, and it’s dated “2000” on the back below the Queen’s face. 

“It’s a loon,” Logan clarifies. “One dollar.”

“It’s pretty.” 

“We call it a ‘loonie’,” he explains, “and this is a toonie.” He picks up the other large coin, one that’s silver with a gold center. 

You take it from him. “A polar bear?” You observe the face of the coin. “There’s polar bears in Canada?” You turn your attention to him, nose almost grazing his.

“You…didn’t know that?”

“Why would I know that?” 

Logan chuckles, snaking an arm around your waist. “Well. It’s where most of the population lives,” he defends, his hazel eyes almost looking as confused as yours.

“Good to know,” you mutter, placing the coin back on the table.

He shakes his head. “Quarter, nickel, penny, dime.” Logan identifies the rest of the coins for you, pointing to each from biggest to smallest.

“The dimes are cute.” You push the thin, silver coin around on the table.

His tattered wallet sits on the corner by your arm, and something peeks out from the bill slot that you paid no mind to before. 

“You have Canadian bills?” You ask as you pinch the thing between your thumb and forefinger, snatching it before he could answer or stop you.

You unfold the worn thing with ease, holding it with both hands and expecting to see a historic figure or a bold number printed somewhere, but there’s neither.

The paper is a little thicker than a bank note yet it’s almost the same size, but it has Logan with a young girl plastered on it in black and white.

An old photo, folded up and kept in his wallet as a reminder of something, or someone.

“Who’s that?” You question, analyzing the picture with a seizing heart.

Logan doesn’t answer right away, but he doesn’t move to take the picture from your hands. 

It’s him, decades younger, giving the young girl a piggyback. An uncharacteristic smile on his face that you’ve never seen before while the girl peeks her head out beside his for the photo. 

“Marie. She was a kid I, uh, helped, I guess.” The deep timbre of his voice is enough to tell you that he’s suddenly forlorn. “One of Charles’ students.”

“You’re so…young,” you consider quietly, eyes filling with adoration and fondness at the boyish Wolverine in your hand. 

You never knew what Logan looked like in his younger years, and it never occurred to you to be curious about that. You’ve grown so used to your Logan that nothing before all this mattered much to you.

Still, there was someone else who got to experience the younger, more spirited version of Logan that only exists in pictures now, and you long to have been that lucky someone just to be able to have had more time with him. 

But this is your Logan; scarred, aching, dying. This Logan was meant to be yours. 

The Logan that stares at you from the wrinkled picture is barely recognizable against the one behind you, yet he’s still somehow the same. It’s like seeing a ghost after saying you don’t believe in them: you don’t really know how to explain it.

“And your hair is…” You squint at the photo, as if that will help you to find the right word to describe the quaffed points peaking from his head.

“Fucking ridiculous?” He finishes. 

You laugh. “Well, I was maybe gonna say majestic. Or even sublime,” you correct. 

The photo is creased along the edges and down the middle from being continuously opened and refolded, and you wonder how old it is—if it’s older than you.

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago,” he exhales, stealing the photo from your fingers and folding it back up, making sure to bury it completely back in the wallet this time.

“Where is she now?” You know you shouldn’t ask but the curiosity is clawing at you. What you know of Logan’s past is extremely limited, but there’s a reason for that. You’re hoping he can at least give you this.

Logan’s shoulders grow taut. He debates lying, but he doesn’t. “Dead.”

━━━━

“Logan?”

No answer.

“Logan,” you say more firmly.

No answer.

“James,” you throw at him, watching his head quirk to meet your voice. 

“What?” He barks, quickly averting his attention back to whatever holds his attention in his lap.

You hesitate in the bedroom doorway, afraid of what you might see if you take another step, but you already know what it’s going to be. It was only a matter of time before Logan fell back into himself.

Logan sits on the creaky, old bed with his back to you, a tremble in his shoulders that no one else besides you would notice. He hates that you notice.

You lightly tiptoe around the bed and drop into a squat between his legs, resting a hand on his knee.

Three adamantium claws occupy the space between you, blood slowly dripping from his knuckles and staining the wood floor. His eyes stay on the claws, but you keep your gaze on his face anyway.

His fist shakes, either from the pain of pulling his claws out or the atrophying muscles.

“There’s no reason to keep doing that…that’s not what we came here for,” you gently scold, watching him take a shaky breath while you try to control your own.

You came here to escape the pain, even if you’ll inevitably face something far worse down the road.

He does this when he feels helpless. You don’t know what it achieves, but he seems to believe it does something other than marring his skin even more and making his forearm burn with white-hot pain from metal sliding against his aged tendons and ligaments.

“Put them away. Please,” you encourage, squeezing his knee comfortingly.

Logan closes his eyes. He doesn’t nod or say anything as the claws retract back into his skin, albeit at a snails pace. You worry that one day they’ll just get stuck in or out forever.

You can’t influence his body to physically repair itself or heal faster—you can only provide a barrier to the pain while it subsides on its own.

You stand, hand reaching for his temple to whisper the magic word like always, but Logan’s bloodied fingers wrap around your wrist.

His eyes finally meet yours. “No. Leave it,” he dismisses, sliding his hand up into yours and smearing the warm blood between your joined palms and linked fingers.

It’s futile to argue against him, so you let him have this; the pain he hasn’t been able to shake for years, the pain you can’t entirely stifle and fade, the pain he would never wish upon anyone, the pain he will only escape in death.

━━━━

“I can let you go,” you cry softly. 

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger when he feels your hot tears fall against his bare chest one after the other. 

It’s one of those mornings—where everything just hits you out of nowhere. One of those times where reality has set in. 

Logan doesn’t say anything because he knows there’s nothing he can say to comfort you. He will die. And nothing can change that.

You lie on him, your cheek to the middle of his chest, unable to stop the silent, persistent tears.

The rickety bed, in fact, holds both of you, and a soft cotton blanket does little to save you from the frigid morning air that has snuck into the cabin yet again.

“I can’t do it,” you whimper quietly, shaking your head against him. “I can’t.”

He wraps both arms around you tightly, squeezing around your shoulders so snuggly that your lips form one of those sad, downturned smiles you make when you’re overwhelmed—happy or sad. 

“We don’t really have a choice, baby,” he mutters against your head. 

A gentle finger traces along the textured, angry scars over his bicep. There’s one that’s older, almost entirely white from the trauma to the skin. A small, round one sits directly above it—most likely from a bullet—and you know it’s more recent from how raised and pink it is.

It feels wrong to have Logan comforting you over his death when it’s him who will be the one dying, but he hasn’t shown any panic or sadness over it.

He’s ready to die. For some reason, that hurts you more.

Maybe he will make it long enough to see the first flowers of spring; those that are strong enough to brave the Canadian frost. 

Maybe, somehow, he will get better. Heal himself from the inside out. 

Maybe he won’t end up buried underneath the birch trees.

━━━━

You both barely left the bed today.

You let each other mourn, and Logan didn’t protest. He let you take the time to process what you were feeling. It felt good for him, too.

He reluctantly had to get out of bed to stoke the fire a few times, and now he’s gone to do so again before you call it a night. An early night. You’re worn out. From crying, from feeling, from everything.

The wind has picked up again, howling and whipping harshly against the cabin. It’s supposed to snow in a few hours, but you don’t feel excited for it like you did a few days ago.

“That should burn all night,” Logan says as he comes back in the room.

You shuffle over on the bed for him. You don’t really fit, but you make it work by half-lying on each other. Either your upper body lays on his chest or his upper body has you almost tucked underneath him while he spoons you.

“Thank you,” you murmur with your eyes already closed, ready to forget about today.

The bed frame groans as Logan shuffles in beside you, slipping an arm around your midsection to pull you to tight against him. 

Despite the cold, and the fact that you both should definitely be wearing fleece pyjamas or something, you’re both almost entirely bare. It’s just habit. You usually opt to wear one of his tank tops while he just keeps his briefs. It’s familiar. It’s comforting. The skin-to-skin reminds you both that you’re real.

Tonight, however, you chose his white t-shirt. As if that will do you any better. Logan runs fairly hot on his own, so you ultimately trust him to keep you warm either way.

He nestles into you, curling his body around yours. He slots a leg between your own and situates you so that your ass is pressed against his front. You know it doesn’t mean what you think it does, but you can’t help yourself from jokingly wiggling back and forth against him a few times just for fun—just to lighten the solemn mood.

Logan kisses your shoulder, the hand around your midsection squeezing the flesh of your stomach through the shirt affectionately while pushing you tighter against him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep,” he dismisses. He knows you’re just fucking with him.

You giggle quietly, interlacing your fingers with the ones he has against your stomach and turning to look over your shoulder at him. “Love you.”

His face softens. “Love you.” 

You pucker your lips dramatically. He gives you an eager kiss, placing small pecks gently down along your cheek and jaw when you break away to smile. 

Logan will never deny you of his attention when you ask for it. 

━━━━

Something pushes you out of a heavy sleep. You figure it was maybe the wind or a dream, but you feel it again. Something literally pushes you.

You blink a few times, trying to wake yourself up. Logan’s arm is still thrown around you, but it’s now fallen down over your hip. The weight of it keeps you in place.

Another push. 

Logan’s hips shove against your ass. You furrow your brows. 

You know he’s sleeping without needing to look or ask, so what the fuck is he doing—

A more delicate thrust rolls against you this time, then you realize. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” you sigh.

“Logan.” You poke his thigh. No response.

“Logan,” you growl, reaching back and pushing a hand against his firm stomach to shake him a bit.

A series of grunts and groans are his response. He pulls back from you a little, hand tightening against your hip.

“Mm. What?” He mumbles, eyes still closed.

“Stop trying to fuck me in your sleep,” you hiss through a breath, repositioning yourself against him.

“I’m not,” he says, nuzzling up to your back and ass again, half-asleep.

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see it. “Yes, you are,” you counter.

It’s probably just some sex dream that got him a little too excited. The thought makes you smile. 

It has, in fact, been longer than usual since you’ve fucked, the last time being in the truck when you pulled over at a rest stop in Montana, and you wonder if he’s starting to feel the effects of that. 

By the time you reached Montana, you were both antsy and restless. The days, and even nights, were naturally spent just sitting in the truck for hours on end with nothing to do—no way to stimulate or tire your bodies.

The final night in the state was the breaking point. You had unburned, pent-up energy and cramping muscles that needed to be worn out if you wanted to survive the last day on the road before you got to the border.

So you pulled over and fucked in the passenger seat. 

Logan let you bounce on his cock until the lactic acid in your thighs made you cry out in pain and you physically couldn’t ride him anymore.

He made you drag it out—for both of your sakes. He wanted your hearts to pump hard and your lungs to sting with each inhale. He wanted your bodies to be fucked into a state of relaxation afterwards.

So, he didn’t help you ride him like he usually does. He didn’t help guide you by your hips up and down his cock. He let you do it all by yourself while he licked and sucked over your collarbones and teased your clit with his fingers.

You both came hard, laughing at the fogged-up windows while cleaning yourselves up with those rough, brown napkins everyone has in their glove compartment for some reason.

Then you continued on, satisfied.

All of this has kind of thrown off your sense of normality. Sex went with that. It’s hard to be horny when you’re sad all the time.

You suppose you don’t need to wonder if he’s feeling the effects of no sex because you’re feeling them for him; his hard cock rests in his briefs against your ass, and you debate doing something you know you’re gonna do anyway.

Just like earlier, you circle your ass over him lightly, hopefully just enough for some payback for waking you up. You assume he’ll tell you to knock it off.

“Baby,” he mutters against the back of your neck tiredly, and you can tell he’s in need of a release.

You smirk. “Hm?” You rub harder over him.

He subtly joins in with your movements, rocking in time with you. His cock feels warm and heavy against your ass.

“Good dream?” You ask, a smile evident in your voice. 

Logan grabs at the meat of your thigh, measuring his thrusts. “It’s…been a while,” he deflects, but you know that just means he’s in need of an orgasm.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you apologize, swallowing a gasp as he ruts harder. 

“Not your fault,” he breathes, too preoccupied with kissing your neck softly. His beard tickles you, grazing against the slope of your neck with each kiss he drags over it.

His broad, warm chest keeps you from drifting off too far. Your cunt pulses and aches from the tease of his cock, undoubtedly soaking your underwear as he rubs along the space that’s just shy of your cunt. This is somehow more erotic than if he was actually fucking himself over your pussy between your thighs.

The bed creaks with his shifting weight, filling the silence in the room as the wind still beats against the cabin.

It’s never mindless, chaotic sex with Logan. Technically, this isn’t even sex. 

He always gave you an appropriate fucking. Not too much, not too little. It was always just exactly what you both needed at the time of doing it. This feels no different.

You can feel your underwear sticking to you—it no longer slides with his desperate movements. You’d be content with finishing whatever way Logan wants. These days, you take what you can get.

“Too tired.” For sex, he means. “Just wanna feel you.” He caresses his hand along your thigh appreciatively. 

You grab his wandering hand. “That’s okay,” you soothe.

His hips have slowed to a gentle rock, intent on taking a bit of the edge off without wanting to fully commit to chasing an orgasm and needing a clean-up. 

Logan isn’t really one to drop everything for sex. Maybe he was like that at some point, but that’s not who he is now. 

He’ll gladly blue-ball himself for some sleep. He knows you’re not going anywhere.

You let him feel you up for a bit, and his movements stop altogether after a few gropes to your chest and thighs—purposefully avoiding anything directly below your bellybutton. 

He rests behind you tightly, pelvis somehow closer than before. You still throb a little, but the warmth from Logan gradually pulls you back to a state of exhaustion.  

━━━━

It’s never been lost on you that you are the only one to have experienced a full, complete relationship with Logan. 

You didn’t die, or get killed. You didn’t leave him or grow old. You are the only one to have this moment. The seemingly immortal Wolverine has someone at the end of his life when he thought he never would. 

He never expected to be the one to go first. It was always the other way around. That’s how it was always supposed to be. 

Yet, there is a spot slowly thawing for him underneath the white birch trees.

here’s the photo reader pulled out of logan’s wallet <3

[rainydayathogwarts]

Driver's seat - Steve Rogers

summary: you and steve get a little carried away in one of tony's cars wc: 1.2k+ we'll just ignore the fact that i was supposed to post this yesterday but forgot

Steve Rogers was an old soul. One who’d only been introduced to the concept of making out in front seat of a car about twenty minutes ago, but he was already converted. The roll of your hips so perfectly grinding against his while you pushed him by the chest into the driver’s seat gave Steve a total loss of control, one he could only try to maintain by taking control of the kiss. You didn’t give that to him either, teasing the supersoldier by pulling away from the kiss ever so slightly, in a way that had him lifting off the seat to chase your lips.

Steve was desperate for you, intoxicated by your taste of your lips. Every second you spent turning on the radio and finding the station you wanted felt like punishment for Steve, who could feel his cock throbbing against your cunt. He knew for a fact you could feel him suffering, but that didn’t stop the way you jumped up when a song you liked came on, putting all the pressure on Steve’s dick when you landed back on his lap. The blond whimpered, a pink tint flushing his cheeks as he hopelessly gripped your hips, trying to pull you flush on his dick.

When you finally stopped teasing him, resuming the languid movements of your rolling hips and leaning in to properly kiss Steve, he couldn’t help the moan that ripped out of his chest. You smiled against the kiss, a hand coming up to cup Steve’s jaw, encouraging him to relax and make way for your tongue in his mouth. Steve bucked his hips up into yours, muttering an apology, which was immediately swallowed into the kiss. One of Steve’s hands transported from your hip to the nape of your neck, pulling you even closer to him, and forcing the kiss deeper.

The rhythmic blues of the music acted as a template for the way to move your body against your boyfriend’s, running both your hands down his chest as the lyrics serenaded you. You separated your lips from Steve’s, mouth falling open in a pant as you tried catching your breath. Steve was quick to bring your lips back to his, tongue immediately meeting yours in an open-mouthed kiss. Between you trying to catch your breath and the supersoldier drawing your lips back together, the kiss was heating up.

Moaning quietly, you couldn’t help the way your hands scrambled to find the button of Steve’s jeans, needily attempting to undo it. Steve aided you in doing so, unzipping his trousers and giving you full access to his boxer-clad cock. You broke the kiss, looking down at the thick bulge in Steve’s boxers. You couldn’t help your bodily reaction, whimpering quietly and thrusting your hips to hump Steve’s swollen cock. Steve cried out at your movement, a hand on the back of your head driving you back into the kiss as you manoeuvred yourself out of your denim shorts, letting them hang by your ankles. “Steve.” You whined, wrapping your arms over his shoulders tightly as you ground yourself on his cock, hips relentless in their movements.

“I know baby, I know.” The man reassured, though his voice cracked half-way through his sentence, a moan breaking through. Steve’s strong grip on your hips returned, pushing you down onto him as hard as possible while he dug his feet onto the floor of the car, using it as leverage to help thrust his hips up into you. With the high-pitched moan you let out, Steve almost thought you were already cumming. But instead, you slammed your lips back onto his in a poor attempt to silence your moans.

Steve caught the opportunity to finally take control of the situation as you started humping your hips more desperately, losing some control over your movements. Steve bucked his hips up sharply, ignoring your cry of pleasure as he used the momentum to flip your positions. Without breaking the kiss, Steve reached down the side of the seat, finding the lever to push the car seat down as flat as possible. You gasped when the back of the seat fell back behind you, and Steve gently nudged your shoulders so you lay flat on it. Steve groaned softly, biting down on your bottom lip to hear your whining once more. Steve balanced himself over you with one arm, the other one grabbing your leg to tug you closer to him so he could grind his pelvis into yours.

“Spread your legs for me, darling.” He muttered into the kiss, breathing heavily as your tongue licked against his. You obeyed his plea, thighs falling further apart to make space for Steve’s large torso. The first push of his hips into yours from his new position had you immediately breaking the kiss with a gasp, back arching against the seat of the car in pleasure. “There?” Steve asked, repeating the same movement as you wordlessly hummed in agreement. “Fuck!” You cried, arms immediately latching onto Steve’s torso, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Steve continued his movements, each push of his pelvis stronger than the last, his lips finally connecting to your neck when he started grunting in pleasure once more. He didn’t want to hear his own moans, only yours. That feat was accomplished when he started sucking on the skin of your neck, causing an uncontrollable buck of your hips as you cursed, eyes shutting in satisfaction. Deciding that you needed one last push to your orgasm, Steve’s fingers dipped down the front of your underwear, causing a shudder to go through you. His fingers delved between your folds, trailing upwards to make contact with your clit. The sharp gasp that left you let him know that he found it, rubbing pressured circles down on the sensitive nub.

When you arched your back, a shiver going down your legs, Steve already knew you were cumming before you moaned “Steve! I’m gonna - fuck!” Steve pressed loving kisses on your face, continuing his movements on your clit until one of your hands was grabbing his wrist for him to stop. You panted heavily, cupping Steve’s face with one hands to pull him into a soft kiss, the other trailing down to the band of his boxers. Steve broke away from the kiss, saying “Darling, it’s oka-” But his words were interrupted by his own moan when your fingers wrapped around the leaky tip of his dick.

Both of Steve’s hands landed next to your head in order to stabilise himself, roughly clutching the fabric of the headrest as you squeezed the base of his cock. Steve was already plenty stimulated, so when you brought your second hand down to play with his sensitive tip, his hips unwillingly thrust into your hand, a spurt of cum shooting out onto your shirt as he cried out in pleasure. Steve saw white, eyes shutting as he wallowed in your words of encouragement. You continued stroking him until he rode out his orgasm, slumping against you in the car seat. Steve breathed heavily, trying to form a coherent sentence, but he gave up when he felt your fingers strewn in his hand, eyes shutting in satisfaction.

You reached past Steve’s body to crank open a window, letting the cool night air flow into the stuffy car. “Hey Steve?” You muttered, pressing a kiss on his forehead as you waited for him hum of acknowledgement. “How do we delete security footage from Tony’s car?”

[angelltheninth]

have you played Marvel Rivals yet? If you have can you write some smut with their design of Venom? He looks incredible!

I haven't played it yet, but what I do know is that everyone loves Jeff, the adorable shark. As they should, Jeff is the best.

Pairing: Eddie Brock/Venom x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, monsterfucking, long tongue, size kink, huge cock, rough sex, wall sex, sloppy kissing, licking

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: Monsterfuckers wake up, I've got something for you!

There's a difference when Eddie is in control and when Venom is

When Eddie is on control he is still rough but he holds you tenderly against himself while he fucks you nice and deep

But when Venom is on control he pins you face down and takes you from behind, his black tendrils gripping and sticking to your thighs

Eddie likes kissing you, although he knows that when he's in Venom mode the kisses can get really sloppy really fast, you seem to enjoy that though

Venom kisses you a lot too but when he does it he also likes to lick you first, almost like he's marking you by doing so, a very primal, kind of animalistic quality to everything he does

Both of them love how big they are, how your pussy needs to get worked up, stretched out by toys or their fingers before they can put their cock in there

Since they have sticky tendrils they use them to stimulate your clit every time they fuck you

Have webbed you up against the wall a few times, your wrists above your head, your thighs spread open, your pussy dripping, desperately clenching around nothing, all theirs to claim and fuck

[loganbcrnes]

honestly shout out to the people that would write Logan fics pre dpw, there werent many that got posted often especially post Logan (2017) but yall carried the fandom through this wasteland ngl. if it werent for dpw as well, things would still be the same, like we all thought Hugh wouldnt come back as Logan so naturally the fandom became kinda inactive... but those who joined the fandom, thank u for ur contribution. im having a lot of fun reading some of the newer fics.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter Nineteen

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, smut

Chapter Words: 1,584

The phase didn't stop. A month later Jamie was still sleeping in mine and Bucky's room. She would cry and scream every time we even tried to put her to sleep in her own room. 

Bucky was getting increasingly frustrated with the situation. The lack of privacy and alone time was starting to wear thin on his patience. 

"Jamie, sweet girl, you have to sleep in your bed, this is mama and dada's bed" I sigh as I walk back and forth with Jamie, she clings to me, her small hands gripping my shirt firmly. 

"No" She whined "Stay with mama and dada"

"Why don't you wanna sleep in your own room? Like a big girl?" 

Jamie puffs out her cheeks, her little face a mixture of sadness and stubbornness. She clings tighter to me, her small body trembling ever so slightly. 

"Scary, dark...Want mama and dada"

"Oh darling" I whisper, stroking through her lovely brown locks. Bucky then walks into the rom, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. He walks over to us, sitting on the bed close to where I stood. 

"Any luck?" He asks. 

"We got you that nice night light, it's not dark anymore" I whisper. 

"Maybe it's not the dark that's scaring her" 

"What then?" I ask, sitting next to Bucky on the bed. He scratches the back of his head, thinking for a moment. He frowns, his brow furrowing as he tries to figure it out. 

"Maybe she's afraid of being alone...Or there are...monsters?" He started to say "Some small kids are scared of monsters right?"

"I hope not" I mumble, I then look down to Jamie, her blue eyes looking up at me. I smiled softly, her eyes were the same as Bucky's. "Jamie, what scares you in your room baby?"

"Scared" She mumbles. 

"Baby, there's no such thing as monsters, plus you're extra lucky...Wanna know why?" I ask her. Jamie looks up, her eyes wide and curious. A glimmer of hope appears in her teary eyes as she nods, her small hands loosening their grip on my shirt. 

"Because your mama and dada are superheroes" Bucky adds, a wide grin on his face. Jamie's expression goes from sad to wide-eye wonder. She looks at both me and Bucky with newfound awe, her fear momentarily replaced by fascination. 

"Mama...dada...superheroes?"

"That's right baby, we're superheroes!" I grin. 

"And you know what happens to monsters when they come near superheroes?" Bucky asks. 

"What dada?" Jamie asks, twisting her body to face Bucky. 

Bucky leans a little closer to Jamie, his voice dropping to a whisper, a hint of playful menace in his words. 

"They run away, Superheroes like mama and dada scare them away with our powers. No monsters would dare cross us" 

"Exactly baby girl" I add. 

Jamie looks between Bucky and me, her fear slowly fading, replaced with a sense of security. 

"No monsters, mama and dada scare them away"

"Precisely, so will you try  and sleep in your own room?" I ask her. She nods, her small hands clenching and unclenching my shirt as she thinks over the request. 

"Okay mama" 

"That's my girl", now give dada a kiss and I'll take you to bed" I smile. She pulls away from me, reaching out to Bucky. He takes her in his arm, holding her close, Jamie leaves a sloppy kiss on his cheek and he follows by peppering kisses all over her face, causing her to giggle. 

Once the giggle session was over I take Jamie again, walking her to her room. I laid her in her crib and read her story, staying with her until she falls asleep. I wait a few more moments, watching her sleep, stroking her hair from her face before leaving, confidant she was going to stay asleep. 

I turned away from her, only to see Bucky waiting by the door, leaning against the door frame, I jumped slightly, shaking my head I walk over to him, wrapping my arms around his middle, his arm went around my shoulder, holding me tight. 

"Looks like she's out like a light" He whispers. 

"Think she'll stay?" I ask back. 

"I hope so, we need some alone time" He answers, we turn and leave Jamie's room and walk back to our own room. Bucky walks over to the bed first, flopping down, he lets out a weary sigh. 

"Yeah we do" I smirk, crawling into the bed, pressing my body against his. Bucky slides his arm around my waist, pulling me closer against him. His touch was firm, yet gentle, a silent affirmation of his need for me. 

"Ever since Jamie started sleeping in our room, it's like we've forgotten what alone time is" He grumbles. 

"Tell me about it, I think I've forgotten your touch" I say with a slight giggle. Bucky chuckles, the sound low and deep in his throat. His hand trails up my side tracing the curve or my hip and waist. 

"Well, I guess I better remind you then" He says, and with a quick and fluid motion he rolls me onto my back, pinning me beneath him. A small unexpected moan left my lips as he did. 

"Please?" I begged. Bucky moved slightly, his lips finding their way to my neck, he trailed a line of kisses down to my collarbone. His touch was firm and possessive, as his lips nipped at my collarbone. 

"Fuck" I muttered "Skip foreplay, I need you now baby" I said, my voice sounding whiny and needy. Bucky looked back up at me, his eyes darkening at my words, a predatory look replacing the usual gentle gaze in his eyes. His hands gripped my hips tightly. 

"Patience, doll. I plan to savor this" His lips find their way back to my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin as his hands begin to roam over my body, his touch growing bolder and more urgent. 

"You evil teasing man" I say with a grin. 

I could feel Bucky smirk against my skin, his breath hot against my neck. He grins, his hand moved up to my chin, tilting my head slightly, so our eyes met. 

"You love it, don't deny it" He smirks. 

"I love you" I say, looking up into his eyes, feeling overwhelmed with my feelings for this man. His expression softens for a moment, a wave of tenderness passed through us. His grip on my chin loosens, his touch becoming more gentle as he caresses my jawline with his thumb. 

"I love you to, doll. More than anything"

He shoots me another smirk and moves down, his lips find my neck again, kissing lower travelling from my neck down to lift my shirt so I was left naked on my top half. He moves his fingers to toy with my nipples as his lips kiss along my lower abdomen. 

"Mmm baby" I moan softly. Bucky's hands move up, his fingers skimming over my skin, tracing a path from my hips to my stomach. His mouth follows, his lips marking a trail up my body, pressing kisses along my abdomen, up to my chest.

"You like that, doll?"

"Love it" I whimper back, his fingers finally dip into my pyjama trousers, his lips were on my neck again, as his fingers move down the folds of my pussy, I was wet, more than usual, due to how needy I felt. 

"You're so responsive" He whispers as he finally pushes two fingers into me "I love it"

"Bucky please, need you inside of me" I begged, moving my hips up against his fingers. His fingers felt great inside of me, but I needed more, something bigger. 

With a swift movement Bucky wiggles down pulling my pyjama trousers down, he makes quick hast to make to come a few times on his fingers and tongue a few times, before finally giving me exactly what I wanted. 

He pressed his thick cock into me, stretching me the way I liked. I held onto his shoulders tightly as he holds onto my hip as he thrusts into me. 

"It's been so long baby, not sure I'll last" He groans, his voice breaking into a whine. 

"Fuck, I don't care, just needed you, needed this, fuck I love you" I rambled. 

Bucky groans at me words, the sound guttural and filled with lust, his hips slammed into me hard, we both moaned loudly. He stopped for a moment, moving his fingers down to my clit, pressing circles into the bundle of nerves. 

My legs started to shake as I held them against Bucky's hips, he slowly moved in and out of me again, his cock hitting my g-spot perfectly, sending me into a surge of pleasure, it shaking through my body hard, as I close my eyes and slam a hand over my lips to muffle my moans. 

Bucky groaned loudly, pressing his head into the crook of my neck as his hips slammed into me, coming deep within me. We laid there gripping onto one another, our breath heavy and our chests rising and lowering in sync. 

"I'm sorry I didn't last longer" Bucky said, his voice muffled by my shoulder. 

"I don't mind baby" I say stroking his back gently "That was really good"

He finally moves, collapsing beside me, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me tight against him. 

"I missed this, missed being able to touch you like this, have you all to myself" He murmurs. 

"I missed you too darling"

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @jaybbygrl @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @learisa @hi172826 @ravennablue @purplecolordeer @a-small-blue-nebula @buckitostan @knyaotjjkbiatch

[sceletaflores]

slippin' and slidin' all over you!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, sweating, mutual masturbation, sweat licking (i don't know???), not-so-dry humping, p in v, JUST THE TIP RAHHH, creampie, fingering (fem!recieving), oral sex (fem!receiving), come swapping, come eating, literally over four thousand words of pure nasty smut, this is gross lowkey, idk i'm h*rny, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: very much not the winner or even an option of the poll i posted last week but...shhh don't hate me. it’s october and over 80 every single day, what the fuck is that? only good thing that came from this heat is thoughts of nasty sweaty sex with logan. once again shoutout to my wonderful husband @ebodebo for reading this over for me (i successfully changed her vendetta against sucking up some man sweat...which was the real point of this fic tbh) go give her fics some love if you're a slut for ghost! kisses!

logan forgot to fix the ac...

It's too hot out to be alive. 36°C and sunny.

One of the hottest days in recent memory for Alberta, and you're really feeling it.

"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"

"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.

You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"

Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."

Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"

You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck. 

Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room. 

All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.

Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.

It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.

Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.

Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.

A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.

You fail.

“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”

You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in. 

The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.

"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."

“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.

Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”

“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.

The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.

"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.

You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you. 

"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. “Maybe I like you right where you are.”

Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.

"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.

The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.

"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."

With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.

You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.

Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat. 

But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh. 

You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him. 

You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”

Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”

“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”

“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.

You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.

You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”

Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before. 

You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."

Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.

He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."

You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.

His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.

"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."

You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.

Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.

Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.

Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.

“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”

Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands. 

The last threads of his restraint snapping.

 He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.

“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.

Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.

Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.

You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.

It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer. 

The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.

“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”

“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.

He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”

Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.

The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”

You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response. 

“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”

Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”

You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.

Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.

You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.

You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.

Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning. 

“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”

Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”

He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.

The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.

The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come. 

“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.

Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.

"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."

A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."

Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.

"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."

A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.

His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.

“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.

Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."

The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.

The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.

Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.

The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.

Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.

You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.

"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"

Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.

“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.

"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.

Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.

When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.

His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.

Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth. 

Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.

"Swallow," he commands, unwavering. 

You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.

As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.

“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”

You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.

“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...

[dollfacefantasy]

MAKE HIM DO WHAT I SAY ♡

pairing: older bf!!logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan make a little bet. who can last longer without sex? as much as he wants to deny it, he's starting to think the answer might be you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief daddy kink (one mention)

a/n: a commission for my sweet @sleepyluxe who i love so very much <33 this fic takes place after the events of dofp when things are fixed.

Seven days. One week. A quarter of a month. That's how long it had been since Logan and you had fucked.

It was brutal. Some may say he's being dramatic, but that's because they've never had the luxury of you. They couldn't understand losing a paradise they've never experienced. The past several days he's felt like a man wandering through a barren desert, the oasis in sight but never close enough to drink from. Absolute torture.

Unfortunately, this situation came about because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

You'd been getting some work done late last Sunday evening. Just a few plans for the upcoming school week. Your fingers punched away at your computer while Logan lay on the bed twirling a stray cigar between his fingers.

"How many more pages you got?" he asked, boosting his head up to glance at you.

At the sound of his voice, you spun your chair around to face him. "Not that many. Just finalizing a few details for the field trip they're taking the kids on next weekend," you said.

"You're not even going. Why're they making you do that?"

The fat stick of tobacco continued to glide between his digits. One of your legs crossed over the other as you watched him.

"I'm not going because I offered to do all the planning," you reminded him. 

Your eyes stayed on the tantalizing movements of his fingers.

"You know you can't smoke in here, so don't even think about it," you said.

He rolled his eyes and puffed air through his pursed lips as if that was an outrageous warning. Sitting up, he put the cigar back in the drawer on his side of the bed. He rose to his feet and began to cross the room in your direction.

"Maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth then," he teased, his voice lowering to the octave that reverberated with want for you.

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned your chair back toward the desk and continued grazing your fingertips over the raised letters.

It didn't deter him though. He kept on in your direction, stopping only when he was directly behind the backing of your seat.

His hands landed on your shoulders, fingers massaging the tight muscles fanning out from your neck. He leaned forward so his head hovered beside yours. You could hear each breath he took. The smell of that cigar lingered around his form even if he hadn't lit up tonight.

"C'mon, babydoll. You've been working so hard. A little break won't hurt you," he murmured, lips pressing against your cheekbone.

"I have to have these done by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be done for the night and completely focused on you," you'd rebuffed him gently.

But that didn't satisfy Logan. When he wanted you, he got you. He proceeded with his tender touches and luring pecks. You remained focused on your work though. He figured he should vary his approach.

"Just let me make you feel good then, honey. Give you some extra motivation," he whispered. His dedicated hands drifted to your waist, squeezing in a way that teased the idea of lifting you up and putting you on his lap. As good as it would've felt to be full of him, you knew you had to get this done.

"You're so bad," you said with a smile, head falling back a little as his mouth moved to your neck, "You act like you haven't gotten any in decades."

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting tired of me?" he teased.

"No. I'm just saying you're insatiable. It's getting to the point where I don't think you could live without me," you responded with a tone matching his in arrogance.

His eyebrow raised, and he pulled back a little to laugh. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Your sweet eyes stared him down, begging him to disagree.

Looking back, he wishes he could travel through time again to slap any further words out of his mouth. He should've just agreed! Should've told you that you were absolutely right. That he can't live without you, can't survive this life if he doesn't get to slip inside of you at the end of each day. He should've waited the fifteen minutes it would've taken you to finish your paperwork and then gotten laid.

But he didn't do any of that. He had to keep going and dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Don't act so innocent, princess. You're just as bad as me," he'd said.

"No way," you'd huffed, smirking with amusement, "I want you a totally normal amount. You want me like every second of the day. If you could, I don't think you'd ever let me do anything. You'd probably keep me chained to the bed, yours for the taking at all times of the day.

"Like you wouldn't love that. I'm not the one pawing at you every morning, whining about how bad I need it," he taunted.

"Oh shut up, that's happened like a couple times. Every day you're right in my ear, feeling me up. You practically drag me away from what I'm doing when you wanna fuck," you fired back, "I am nowhere near as bad as you."

And then he'd spoken the three cursed words that launched him into this predicament.

"You wanna bet?"

You laughed more at that and nodded again. "Sure. Because I know I'll win."

And that unofficial vow of celibacy was why the two of you had been dancing around each other for the past week. He was starting to feel like that old love song counting the amount of time it'd been since he had you beneath him last. Fifteen hours and seven days or however it went.

You didn't make this trying time any easier for him either. That night he went to sleep with blue balls. The next morning, he woke up to you getting ready. You weren't dressed in your usual style of clothing though. Instead, you had on a dress, Logan's favorite dress of yours. You'd styled your hair real pretty too, letting it compliment your features in the best way.

As his heavy lids blinked open to consciousness, he watched you fasten a shimmering necklace over your collarbone. It sat just above the neckline of the chiffon fabric that adorned your bust.

You caught his waking eyes with your own in the reflective glass, turning to look at him with a bright smile. 

Despite his bleary vision, he could hear the light steps of you prancing over to him. The mattress dipped with your weight as you sat down and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers slid through his dark hair just the way he likes, with your nails scratching his scalp a little. Worst of all, that close, the scent of your perfume became all consuming. It hit him harder than normal. He wasn't sure if he should blame you or himself for predicting the trials of the coming days.

He hummed in acknowledgement of your presence and nuzzled into your palm.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you cooed, your voice extra soft and sweet. It was too caring to be seductive, but of course, that's where his mind went anyways.

"Hey, baby," he'd mumbled.

"I gotta go drop off that paperwork, but I'll see you later. I love you," you whispered in return before laying one more column of kisses from the tip of his nose back to his forehead.

Then you'd left, leaving him half-hard and yearning for you. A pattern that would plague him over the next week.

Each day it was some new form of torture. The day after that, you'd worked extra hard in the danger room, coming back to him at night covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your heady natural scent filled the bedroom in moments.

The following afternoon, you wanted to cuddle when you both had some free time. The fact that you draped your leg over his torso, slotting your clothed cunt right against his hip, inches away from his cock, was pure accident of course.

Over the last few days, your games have become less specific. You peppered your speech with innuendo. Looked at him with your fuck-me eyes and spoke in the tone you always used seconds before he ended up bending you over the nearest surface.

He tried to fight back, he really did. He stopped wearing a shirt in your shared room. Every time he talked to you, he made sure to rub your ass or stroke your cheek. He was so desperate he stooped to embarrassing levels of lovey-dovey when the two of you were alone. But no matter what he tried, it seemed like you'd been right. Of your pair, you had the superior restraint.

With each passing hour, his frustration grew.

Today, it reaches its zenith.

The mansion is empty because it's Sunday. All the students and other teachers are out on the trip to the observatory today. You and Logan are the only remaining residents in the school. He ended up not having to tag along with the rest of the group after volunteering to fix the sprinklers bordering the school's patio. Babysitting kids had never been his forte even with all the practice he gets at it now. Simple handiwork he could do no problem.

The two of you take the morning to sleep in. This was a rare occasion where no early meetings or classes occupied your schedules. You stay tangled up together well past sunrise.

Logan is the first to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He pulls himself from the nest of pillows and blankets, stretching his limbs out as he does. He rubs the tiredness from his features before rising and heading to the wardrobe to pull on some clothes.

In addition to his normal black t-shirt and jeans, he grabs the tool belt on his way out to the lawn. He slings it around his hips before walking through the back door. Heading past the basketball court and rows of hedges, he finds the line of leaking sprinklers besides them. It would probably take him a while given that he had to first identify the source of the problem and then recalibrate all of them with the adjustment.

He sighs but gets to work. At least he'd have a distraction from the desires haunting him.

Crouching in the dewy grass next to the little faucets, he begins examining the hard plastic shells. To his surprise, scanning for breaks does attach his mind to the task and give him a brief reprieve. It's quiet outside. Besides a small chirp from a distant bird or a grunt out of him, no other sounds echo over the open space. The sun shines in the sky, but it's not beating down on him. The air tickles his skin with warmth but not to the point of being miserably humid.

All the conditions meet in the perfect middle to keep him calm. It's the most peace he's had since he agreed to this bet between the two of you.

But all that tranquility is shattered about a half hour later when he hears the patter of footsteps against the stone pathway. From around the tall thicket of green foliage, comes you. Your face breaks out into a smile the second you burst into his vision. He would look the same if not for what you'd decided to wear.

You trot over to him across the grass in a pair of tiny black shorts with lacy frills on the hems. They sway with each of your movements, highlighting the shape of your legs. A gray camisole graces your upper half; a delicate white bow sits at the center of the collar, dead center between your breasts. The fit of the garment displays the contour of your chest just right. He feels like he's gonna start drooling before you make it near.

Despite his reaction, the outfit wasn't that provocative. It wasn't like you'd strutted out in lingerie. But he was so pent up that a flash of your ankle in the proper lighting could probably get him hard.

Bounding up to him, you wrap his body in a tight hug. Every curve of your form presses up against him.

"Look at you, working so hard," you praise playfully with a kiss to his cheek.

He laughs it off, returning the hug in an attempt to be normal, so you wouldn't see how vulnerable he was right now, how this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't let you know that in this moment, he could easily become the prey.

"Were you missing me already?" he asks, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

"Mhm. Woke up and you were gone," you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, planting a few electric kisses on his skin.

"I didn't wanna wake you. You're pretty cute when you're sleeping," he mutters.

"Well now I'm gonna be cute out here with you," you say and pull back. You peck his lips one more time before plopping down in the grass behind him.

He glances back at you to see what that means. All you're doing is sitting there. Your legs extend out in front of you, straightened for his eyes to rake over. You lean back with your palms against the moist greenery below you.

"You don't got anything better to do with your day off?" he asks.

That earns him a small pout. "If you want me to leave, I will. I just wanna spend time with you."

He can tell by your tone that your intentions aren't so innocent. You're leading him into allowing your presence. But denying his girlfriend has never been one of the wolverine's strengths so of course, he acquiesces.

"Relax. I'm not telling you to go anywhere," he says as he turns back to his work, "I just don't think this will be that interesting to you."

"Watching you do anything is interesting to me," you joke back.

He rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

At first, things are smooth as before. He continues messing with the small, bendy pipes. You're quiet behind him. Almost too quiet, but he lets it go for now since he thinks he's found the source of the malfunction.

It doesn't take long to patch up. The more difficult part is going to each individual head and fixing the tightness. His fingers twist the little knobs to the correct settings. He then turns to you when he's finally done.

The sight of you feels like a gust of fresh air filling his lungs. You're laid out where you were before, but you've reclined across the ground. One of your arms is sprawled outwards, soaking up the sunlight while the other lazily covers your eyes. Your shadow outlines your figure against the emerald blades below you.

You look luscious and ripe, like a precious fruit ready to be picked and devoured. In any other circumstance, that's exactly what he'd do. He'd spread you out further for him and take you apart piece by piece. He wanted your nectar running down his chin with each savoring lap of his tongue. He craved the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, your walls massaging his shaft during every punishing thrust.

Imagining it now only gets the blood pumping down South to his hardening length.

He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Why didn't he do that now? What was the point of this stupid fucking contest? It's not like there was anything on the line. The only stake was his pride, which to be honest, he'd already compromised for you multiple times over the course of your relationship.

Unbuckling the leather from his waist, he discards the tool belt. Next he peels his shirt from his body and tosses it to the side.

He makes his way to you on the grass. He drops to his knees and leans forward. His muscular frame cages you in against the ground. Starting at your navel, he drags his nose up your body. He coasts over the valley between your breasts and past your collar bone. His soft exhales breeze across your throat before he finally reaches your cheek. With a gentle pull, he clears your arm from your face.

Your eyes flutter to adjust to the sunlight beaming down on them again. They take in the vision of him so close to you and the way he gazes down with adoration.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, his voice much softer than it'd been before, "You falling asleep on me?"

His thumb rubs over your jawline while the other strokes the crown of your head. A smile blooms across your lips. You can't help it with how he's behaving.

"No... well, maybe a little. I think you were right. Sprinklers are pretty boring," you say.

He grins and leans in to kiss your lips. With the exchange he hopes to communicate everything he doesn't want to say. I give up. You win.

You reach up and cup his scruffy cheeks. Your tongue swipes against his lips, sensing his longing for intimacy. He allows you in, and you deepen the connection. A long breath oozes from your nostrils.

He presses you down against the ground further as your hands slide over the little white streaks in his hair. Your fingers embed themselves in his locks. You feel his hands sliding down your body. They stop at your hips and give the plush flesh a squeeze.

It's obvious what he wants, but in case there was any doubt, his digits then hook around the top of your shorts and give them a tug.

A giggle bubbles up out of you against his mouth. You pull back to look at him with smug eyes.

"Is that your way of admitting I was right?" you ask.

He grumbles and ducks his head down to start kissing your neck. "Don't get cocky or I'll change my mind."

That makes you laugh more. You yank on his hair and pull him back up to look at you. 

"No you won't," you tease and brush your noses together. Looking into his eyes again, you can see how bad he wants this. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're giving in. And that I win. And that you can't live without me."

He gives you a blank stare. Silently, he contemplates if there's any way around this. He wonders if there's a way he can avoid utter humiliation.

"C'mon, baby. Throw an old dog a bone," he grumbles.

Giggling, you shake your head. "Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it."

He sighs and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips with learned ease. Your smile glows from this angle. The sunlight above cascades over your frame and only further accentuates your body in your tight clothes. He rubs his hands up and down your sides. His dick is already at half-mast under the denim that covers his lower body. Your heat rests right on top of it, teasing him through the barriers of cloth. It dangles what he could have if he gives you what you want right before him.

The words that challenged you and created this trap for himself came out so easy. Why couldn't these be the same?

To coax him along, you grind down the slightest bit. The pressure's so light and gentle, a mere graze of your mound on the outline of his growing bulge. He hisses at the feeling.

"Just admit it," you say, planting your palms on his chest, "Just say I was right and you were wrong."

He watches you above him, knowing you're not going to drop this. If he wanted this self-invoked dry spell to end, he'd have to make it happen.

You roll your hips down with more force, impatient to hear him comply with your request. A small whimper leaks out of you. He can tell from that sound alone that you're getting worked up. That arousal is beginning to collect between your thighs.

The thought of it makes his need for you almost biological. His hands clamp around your waist and press you down harder. He rocks his up a little to meet your own movements.

"I need you so bad, princess," he sighs, his eyes shutting as he takes in the dull pleasure of you on top of him.

"Then you can say what I told you," you tease.

"What was it again?" he asks as he continues dragging your covered pussy back and forth along his now fully hard shaft.

"Say you're giving in. That I win. And that you can't live without me," you remind him, visibly proud of your victory.

With a sigh, he repeats, "I'm giving in. You win. I can't live without you."

You smile and laugh as if it was the best thing you'd ever heard. Your head falls back with glee before coming up so you can see his face again.

"Actually, can you say that again? I'm gonna grab my phone. That way I can film it this time. I just wanna have a record-" you continue to tease, but you're cut off by your own squeal when he grabs you and flips you back over onto your back. He keeps you quiet by smashing his lips against yours as your back thuds against the grass.

This kiss burns hotter than the last one. His mouth moves with bruising passion as he pulls your shorts down your legs for real. You help him by kicking them loose. His hands roam around over your smooth skin.

He glances down and finds what he thought he felt. No panties.

Eyes flitting back up to you, he shakes his head. "You were gonna give in anyways," he accuses.

"Yeah, but you gave in first," you giggle.

A small growl rumbles in his chest, but he still leans in to pull your tank top up. He brings it across your stomach, letting your breasts fall free as he bunches the material above them. He cups the plump flesh, taking a look at the beauty he holds in his palms. You watch him in the fleeting interval in which you're forced to separate.

"So... since I win, what do I get?" you continue to gloat.

"My dick inside you," he answers as his fingers yank his zipper open and shove down his pants in a similar fashion to your shorts.

"But I'm gonna get that anyways. I think I should get a real prize," you say, aiming to stoke the flames higher.

Your hips get hauled closer across the grass, so fast that you're in danger of having green smeared across your skin.

"I don't think you'll be complaining in a few minutes, ya little brat," he mumbles.

His fist pumps over his cock as he lines it up between your legs. The leaky tip smears some precum over your folds before he slides inside. He groans as he sinks in, cherishing the feeling after the week of its absence.

You're quick to adjust to the stretch. With a sharp breath, your back arches off the grass. He had already snapped back and slammed in again. You knew he wouldn't be patient after being deprived of this. Watching him above you, your eyes study how his chest puffs in and out with harsh breaths. His strong arms extend down on either side of your head, his fists holding clumps of grass between them. 

It's a gorgeous view, but you know it can't beat the feeling.

"Closer..." you whine and grab at his shoulders, pulling him down so he's right on you and smothering your body against the turf, "Missed you, old man."

"How many times have I told you to quit it with that?" he asks as his pelvis begins setting a rhythm.

"Enough to know that I'm never gonna," you say. It's the last thing you can get out before moans shatter your plans to speak.

His warm flesh pounds against yours over and over. Your body rocks with the bounce of him on top of you. It feels so good. The world feels bright again, like you'd transitioned from an existence of black and white to living in color. It was so open out here but also so empty. Like you and him were the only two people on earth.

Your voice tapers off. Words become second to whimpers of pleasure. His hands grope the swell of your ass before returning to your sides for steady leverage.

"We'll have to work on that then," he grunts, "If you're not gonna stop, I'll just have to make sure you can't speak at all."

You preen at the idea, clutching at his muscular shoulders and back. He pants right next to your ear. Each stroke drives deep into you, brushing a spot that had ached for him to touch it again.

"Never wanna go that long again," you babble around whines.

"Me neither, baby. Think you were right. Not being able to feel this pretty little pussy every day almost killed me," he says.

A rush of euphoria flows through you upon hearing that. Your moans become more breathy, more full of need for him. You grab one of his wrists and tug his hand off your hip, pushing it in between your legs.

He knows what you want. His fingers apply some pressure and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. Immediately, he's rewarded with a whine out of you and a buck from your hips.

"Impatient," he huffs between a set of deep thrusts.

"I won," you retort, "I get to do what I want."

Even in the heat of the moment, he chuckles at your petulant tone. His hips keep rutting against you on the grass. He's sure his next task of yard-work will be covering the mysterious indents in the soil out here.

"I needa cum, Logan," you whine several seconds later, "So close."

"Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need to let it out after keeping it from me for so long?"

Your head bobs up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Please, please, please."

"Well, it's like you said. You won. So I think you can finish when you're ready."

"Mmmm- o- ok..." you whimper out.

Your hips roll up and down to reciprocate the fast pace of his own. He's battering right up against that special spot inside you that makes your mind blank and your eyes gloss up.

With a handful of whimpers, you cum. Your face scrunches as your cunt tightens around him. His fingers keep up the same rhythm on your clit, swirling around the little bud through your pleasure high.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Let it all out for daddy."

Your body seizes up at that command. Every cell of your being somehow knows to obey. You stumble over words and let them leave your lips half formed.

He keeps driving into you as you're coming down, chasing his own release. You're well into the territory of overstimulation now, all parts of you fizzling like a lit sparkler.  Your thighs quiver against his sides violently. They lock around his waist when you finally feel him slam in and drain himself.

A loud groan erupts from him. He makes no effort to restrain it given that only the two of you are here to hear it. He fucks it into you, ricocheting himself against your center a couple more times and letting every last drop pour into your dripping hole.

When he feels sated, at least for the moment, he reluctantly pulls out. He takes a couple deep breaths as he watches a bit of his cum ooze out of you. It didn't matter though. That wouldn't be the last load you took today.

His body topples over next to yours on the natural ground. You both lie there for a few moments catching your breath before you roll onto your side to look at him.

You just stare for a few moments. Your eyes roam along the shape of his face to the slope of his jaw and the curve of his chest. Leaning in, you kiss the space below his ear.

He responds to the touch by curling his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

His head turns to meet your loving gaze.

"I think we have some more time to make up for," he says.

You respond with an eager nod and hop up to your feet. Both of you pull on the basics of the clothes you'd been wearing before and rush back into the mansion, giggling as you stumble through the halls like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

The door to your room stays shut for the rest of the day. You spend the remaining hours you have enmeshed in each other; intertwined with him enough to recover from the lack you'd put yourself through.

Logan doesn't venture beyond the barrier of your shared sanctuary until the sun has gone down and darkness coats the halls of the mansion.  He walks quietly, taking his steps carefully to ensure none of the wooden planks beneath him creak.

All he had to do was go downstairs and grab you some water. In and out. Five minutes. But as he rounds the turn into the room, Scott's already there, looking through the fridge. He freezes and stands there awkwardly in his black tank top and loose sweatpants.

Having heard the sounds of his footsteps, the other man glances over at him. 

"There you are. Didn't see you around when I got back," he says simply.

Logan shrugs, trying to play it casual. He walks across the room toward the cupboard that holds the glasses. The other man's eyes follow him. He can feel that even through the scarlet shades on his face.

"Haven't seen your other half either," Scott continues.

Logan can tell from the tone of his voice where this is going. 

"Don't call her that," he scoffs, forever downplaying his attachment to you, "She's tired. She's upstairs sleeping."

"On her day off? I wonder what would have her so drained," Scott replies. His tone is flat in contrast to the little smirk on his face.

"Don't start," Logan says. He goes to the fridge to fill your cup with water. The trickle of the fluid is the only sound in the room until Scott keeps going.

"I didn't say anything," he says, raising his hands in surrender, "Only that this is the best mood you've been in all week."

"A couple hours without you around does wonders for me," Logan grumbles, wishing the liquid would pour a little faster.

"I'm sure. A couple hours with no one else around. Just the two of you after you've both been stiff the whole week," he taunts, "It's ok to admit you're whipped."

Finally, the cup is full. Logan takes it and turns away, holding one finger up as he walks from the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow, Scott."

"Yeah. Tell her if she's feeling sore, she can skip the early meeting," he says with a little laugh.

[vintagebuckybarnes]

In Vino Veritas

Pairing → Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Lab Assistant! Female! Reader

Total Wordcount → 3.5K

Summary → It all started when you and the Avengers enjoyed drinks during the afterparty back at the Avengers Tower. There, Tony revealed one of your deepest secrets, and even though you wish it had never come to light at first, you’re glad it did when the man you love stands on your doorstep, ready to start the rest of your life together.

Tags & Warnings → Semi-canon compliant, Avenger! Bucky Barnes, Female! Reader, Tony’s Lab Assistant! Reader, Bucky’s past as TWS is mentioned, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, some cursing, and explicit sexual content.

Tags: Smut → Grinding, begging, some dirty talk, praise, teasing Bucky, protected sex, cowgirl position.

Story Rating → Explicit

Author’s Note → This story is beta'd by the wonderful @late-to-the-party-81, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I hope you'll all enjoy my story, which is filled with some angst, lots of fluff, and some smut to top it all off! 💜

Writing Prompts @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition → “There is no us.” | Riding | In vino veritas | “Touch me.” @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition → Crush at first sight @julybreakbingo Post-JBB → Being confronted about their feelings for another

Tags List → If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

The evening starts fine, good, even. But it all takes an unexpected turn when the man you work for - Tony Stark - reveals your secret. A secret that you’d only recently revealed to him.

Earlier that day, you’d spotted Bucky as he was working out and from that moment on your mind has been with him instead of your usual work and tasks.

“Hello, Y/N? Anyone home in there?” Tony asks as he lays a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You look up at him with a worried look while he smiles back at you with a kind expression. A soft sigh escapes your lips as the thoughts in your head wander off again, specifically how his back looked underneath the tank top he wore in the gym while doing squats. Not only that, but you also can’t stop thinking about the way his ass looked in the sweatpants he wore. In a word, magnificent.

“Is everything okay with you? You’ve been a bit off your game today.” As Tony sits next to you, you put down the screwdriver you were holding - the one he asked you three times to pass to him - before turning to face him, your gaze focusing somewhere on the wall behind him. For a moment, there’s a silence between you as you gather the courage to tell him what’s been on your mind.

“Well, uhm- There’s something, or someone, that I can’t stop thinking about, and it’s taking over my mind every second of every day. It- It’s Bucky,” you say almost in a whisper. For a few seconds, Tony is completely silent as he lets the thought of you having a crush on one of his fellow Avengers sit in his mind. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he reaches out for your hand and takes it between his warm ones.

“You know that I’ll always support you in everything, right? I supported you when you expressed your desire to halt your life as an Avenger and retrain as my lab technician, and I supported you when you moved out of Avengers Tower to have your own home with more peace. This is not going to be any different. All I’m hoping for is that he will make you the happiest and best version of you, as you deserve nothing less.”

Tears brim at your waterline as Tony tells you this, and even though you deeply appreciate him, his words, and everything he has done for you, you can’t help but still feel a bit… odd about the fact you told him you’re having a crush on Bucky. That you have a crush on the man who was once the most feared assassin in the world under the hands of HYDRA.

“Now, can you hand me that screwdriver before your thoughts wander off to him again?” your boss asks in a teasing tone, making you smile as you grab it and hand it to him. Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say, and it's exactly why you enjoy spending time by his side while learning everything there is to know about his lab and what's going on in there.

Just as you’re about to get comfortable with another drink in your hand, you meet the gaze of the man you’re crushing on, and you feel heat coursing through your veins. The lines around his deep blue eyes intensify as he smiles at you, his attention making every last thought in your brain disappear. You’re so captivated by how Bucky looks at you that you miss your seat as you sit down. However, before you fall, you’re caught by a pair of solid arms that prevent you from hitting the floor.

“Careful there, Little One,” Thor says in his deep voice, his accent always making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Even though you’d known Thor since you were young, you couldn’t help but get a little flustered by the nickname, and he smiled at you as you were finally sitting on the chair you intended to use.

“Thank you, Thor,” you whisper before sipping your cocktail. Around you, the conversations are starting to become a little blurry as you focus on Bucky and everything he has to say, his lips forming around the words effortlessly. When you suddenly feel a little shove against your arm, you yelp, making everyone go silent as they look at you.

“What did you do that for?!” you ask Thor in a low voice, but all he does is point to Tony, who obviously has something to say as he’s waving for everyone’s attention. There are moments when you enjoy the fact that alcohol can bring out people’s true feelings or thoughts, also known as in vino veritas, but not now. Oh no, now you wish you could disappear as you listen to the words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Guys, you really shouldn’t say this to Bucky or Y/N, but they’re having a massive crush on one another!” Tony says in a loud whispering tone, but what he fails to notice in his inebriated state is that you two are sitting right across from one another, enjoying the afterparty just like everyone else. Or at least, you were enjoying the afterparty until your secret got out.

The glass you were holding falls out of your hand before shattering into pieces on the floor, and your feet carry you as fast as they can away from the party and away from your worst nightmare come true. The music behind you fades away as you turn one corner after another, tears burning in your eyes as the event repeatedly replays in your mind. Your lungs start to burn as you keep running, the stinging feeling in your side increasing as you run out of the Avengers Tower into the night.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s world feels like it has taken a 180-degree turn. Mere minutes ago, he could only fantasize that you could have feelings for him, but now? A wave of disbelief washes over the super soldier, his expression showing pure surprise as he takes the moment in. For him, it was a crush at first sight from the momentyou walked into the training room on your first day. Over the years, his feelings have intensified, although he has only told Steve about his crush - or rather his now deep-rooted love - for you.

And yet, now that the pair of you have been confronted about your feelings for one another, he doesn’t know what to do. He has replayed the moment he’d confess his feelings to you more times than he can count in his mind, and in none of those versions, this is one of the scenarios that had appeared. It’s only when Steve grabs his arm and pulls him away that he seemingly comes back to reality again.

“Bucky, how does Tony know about your crush on Y/N? I mean, I’m, of course, fine with you sharing it, but-”

“I don’t know, Steve, I don’t know, and it kills me,” Bucky says as he runs his fingers through his cropped hair.“Fuck- I was planning on telling her this week but… but now it’s ruined, and I didn’t even get the chance to talk to her, and-” It’s all Bucky can say as he fights the urge to punch the wall with his metal fist, both hands clenched by his side as he tries to regulate his breathing. Without warning, Steve pulls him into a hug, and Bucky’s arms snake around his best friend's waist as his fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Steve whispers, though he’s not entirely sure that’s true because he knows as well as anyone that things don’t always go back to how they were before. Still, Bucky decides to believe him as they stand there for a little while longer, and he soaks in every bit of comfort he can get for now. Lord knows he’s going to need it.

The past few days have been strange, to say the least. You haven’t been to the Avengers Tower since Tony revealed your now not-so-secret crush on the super soldier. You’re afraid of what will happen if you do. This also means you haven’t seen Bucky in a few days, and you miss him. You miss hearing his laugh, and you miss seeing how his mouth turns slightly upward as you hand him one of your baked goods, but most of all, you miss how his arms feel when he pulls you in for a hug.

Just as you’re about to make yourself a cup of tea, you get pulled from your thoughts by a soft but familiar knock on the door; only one thing can make that sound: Bucky’s metal hand knocking against the wood. For a moment, you contemplate your actions, but decide to give him at least a chance to talk, especially as it wasn’t him who laid out your feelings in front of everyone.

“Bucky, hi,” you say softly as you take in his appearance, your heart sinking as you do. It’s evident he hasn’t slept at all the past few days. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he doesn’t look as healthy as usual—more disheveled. The struggles he’s facing are apparent in his entire demeanor, and all you want to do is wrap him up in a warm blanket and cuddle him until the end of time.

“Hi,” he says hoarsely, and you step aside, allowing him to enter your apartment. He’s been here a few times already, and usually there’s a warmth radiating from you and every inch of the little place you call home, but ever since the party, it hasn’t been the same. It isn’t just the apartment, either. You feel different.

“Would you like some tea before we talk?” you ask to break the tension. “I was about to make some.”

He nods at you before wandering further into your apartment, and you head to the kitchen, picking out another mug for Bucky to use. Once he’s caught sight of your couch, he immediately takes a seat, a soft groan audible as he does. There aren’t many places more comfortable than the large couch that’s standing right here in your living room.

When you emerge a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate filled with chocolate chip cookies you baked fresh this morning, Bucky can’t help but smile at you. He gladly takes the tea with one of the cookies, as they’re his favorite, and when you sit down next to him, it feels just like it always has, as if nothing has changed. But you both know it has, and that’s why the super soldier’s now in your living room.

“So…” you start, unsure what to say now that he’s sitting on your couch. Bucky’s eyes are trained on the steaming tea in his hands, his thoughts going a mile a minute as he’s thinking about what he wants to say - other than confessing his love for you.

“So… uhm, we missed seeing you around the Tower,” Bucky starts, though you both know it’s mostly him who has missed seeing you there. You have always been a staple there during his mornings as you make him a cup of coffee, and during movie nights, you were always the one he could sit next to and enjoy the movie, but now that you’re not there, it’s like a piece of soul has left the Tower with you.

“I mean, yeah. It’s been a bit awkward for me to go back after what happened a few days ago,” you tell him, and a shudder of horror runs down your spine at the thought of having to face Tony again. A smile tugs at the corners of Bucky’s lips as he thinks back to what happened that night, a happy memory of your first meeting resurfacing in the back of his mind as he does.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’ve made some chocolate chip cookies, if you want some. However, I should warn you, Tony’s been on the prowl since I took them out of the oven, so I’ll advise you to be quick,” you say with a glare towards Tony, who has been eyeing them up since he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. For the first time in a long time, Bucky showed something akin to a smile, and everyone looked at each other to ensure they saw it, too.

“Thank you,” he says lowly, grabbing one of the smaller ones on the plate, followed by a cup of coffee, before swiftly leaving the kitchen to spend more time in his room. Before Bucky even left the kitchen, Tony was on the cookies as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and this time you let him.

“Can I- Is it okay if I tell you something? Because if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I ever will,” Bucky says softly, and you nod before repositioning yourself so that you’re facing him. His gaze is still trained on his mug as he thinks carefully about his next words, afraid he might accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Tony was right. He is right, actually. When he said, we’re crushing on each other. I’ve been crushing on you since you offered me those chocolate chip cookies when Tony threatened to eat them all before anyone else had a chance to get them. It was like a switch flipped inside me back then, and I haven’t been the same since,” Bucky says, his mouth now in a line as he tells you about his feelings.

“Each time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing an angel, and every time I hear your voice, it’s like a little piece of my soul is healing, too. I find myself drawn to you in every room and wonder what life has in store for us. But deep down inside, I know there is no ‘us’ yet. But I want there to be us. I want you, Y/N. I want you to be mine, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. If you want to stay friends, that’s okay with me, but if you want more, I’ll happily accept every bit of love you’re willing to offer me.”

Once Bucky’s done, you’re unsure what to say. What to think. What to do. You want to say that the feelings between you are mutual, that you’re in love with him and that you want nothing more than to be his, but something inside you is stopping you. So, instead of saying anything, you place your hand over his flesh limb, and his eyes slip shut at the feeling of your soft fingers against his rough hand.

“Bucky.” His name is a whisper on your lips, but it’s enough to make him look at you, to meet your gaze.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, Bucky carefully put his tea on the coffee table before hauling you onto his lap, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as your lips interlock in a passionate dance. He can’t get enough of your soft mouth slotting together with his and the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours as your fingers dig into his neck. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt a strong connection with someone, and you’re happy to explore it with Bucky.

Your hips grind over his growing length of their own volition,your body looking for any bit of friction it can get. Without warning, one of Bucky’s hands slides lower until he’s cupping your ass, making you gasp into his mouth as a result. Bucky can’t help but smile into the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, your legs spreading just a bit further as you sink against his muscular body.

“Hmm, I’ve been wanting this - you - for so long,” he says between the kisses trailing your jaw towards your ear, his teeth nipping on your earlobe as your head lolls to the side. With every passing second, your thoughts are melting away more and more, and all that’s left inside your mind is Bucky. Soon, his other hand joins the first as he helps you grind onto him, a groan falling from his lips as he sets a perfect pace for you both.

“B-Bucky—" his name sounds more like a whine than anything else. “I—I want you.”

“But you already have me, pretty girl, ‘m right here,” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, his hands continuing to help you grind until you’re a complete mess for him. Your shorts are ruined, your arousal soaking through them and onto the bulge in his black jeans, much to Bucky’s joy. He was wondering what it would take to get you to this point, and it turns out it won’t take much.

He smiles against the skin of your neck, where he’s taking his time to mark you with hickeys and small bitemarks, all of which leave you a bit more of a moaning, begging mess on his lap, much to his pride. When one of your hands moves away from his neck and down his torso, he quickly catches on to what you’re doing. “Someone’s a little impatient today, huh?”

“Yes, oh god, yes! I need you to touch me, Bucky. I want to feel you inside me as you make me fall apart on your cock, and I need you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow!” Your voice sounds more breathy than usual, but every care you thought you had has gone out the window. All you want is Bucky and his cock to ride, until you’re orgasming so hard and long you can’t remember your name.

“Okay, I will. Don’t you worry about anything, okay? Let me take care of you, and I’ll give you everything you need and more,” he reassures you in a shushing voice. You nod before kissing him again, which immediately deepens before he gently helps you get up, allowing you to take off your panties and shorts, and he can take off his pants and boxershorts, too. As soon as you’re both freed from your last pieces of clothing, you hand him a condom you retrieved from the side table drawer while he took the time to undress himself.

“Hmmm, looks so thick,” you tell him as you look at it with wide eyes, wondering how he’s going to fit inside you as you’re positioning yourself on his lap once more, your legs bracketing his thicks thighs as you get comfortable.

“I know, but I’m gonna go slow. Wouldn’t want to hurt you and your perfect, sweet little pussy.” He smiles as he holds his cock in place, your pliant body sinking onto him slowly as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. Your hiss of pleasure is audible and your face contorts at the slight sting of him stretching you, but just like he promised, Bucky is taking it slow to ensure you’ll both have the most amazing first time.

As soon as you’re fully seated on his lap, your body goes limp against him, your face tucked in the crook of his neck as you adjust to his girth, and Bucky places soft kisses on your head while praising you through it all. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Such a good girl for me, letting me take the lead and giving you exactly what you need.”

A small smile appears on your face as you look up at him with big, doe-like eyes, and he can’t help but smile back as the back of his fingers gently caress your cheek. He may have thought you were beautiful before, but nothing compares to this moment. 

“I love you, Y/N, and I promise to take care of you with every fiber of my being,” he whispers, his lips sealing his promise against your cheek. Your eyes fall shut at his words, and his hand moves down your side until it’s on your hip again, ready for you to let him know when you’re good to go. Your bodies work in complete sync with one another with every rise and fall of your chest, and his hands guide you beautifully as you slowly sink and rise on his length.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to find your highs for the first time, and they’re serving as a promise of everything else that’s still to come in this lifetime. A few days ago, you and Bucky didn’t even know you felt the same about one another, but now you’re sharing the start of the rest of your lives, and it’s all thanks to Tony. Because without him, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the man of your dreams how much you love him.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes

GIF: Source → All the other graphics you see are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni. Buckys innocent neighbor who bakes him cookies and muffins just cause. The girl next door who has the coziest apartment he's ever been in. Shelves filled with books along with plenty of comfy blankets decorating the couches. Bucky has his own place right across but home is with her (even if she doesn't know it yet).

She's the type of girl he's going to take his time with, asking her out on a date, just coffee and a walk in the park. Nothing more than a kiss on her cheek at the end of the night. Another date. Dinner. Another kiss to her other cheek. He wouldn't dare rush anything, especially not someone as soft and sweet as her.

He feels like such a dirty little pervert when he thinks about her afterwards when he's alone in bed, all the blood in his body rushing south, and fuck he's so hard. He tries to ignore it, he didn't want to do something so debauched by thinking of her like that, he even tries to think about his grocery list, laundry, he'd probably wash his arm later, it would probably be fine in the dishwasher-

Nothing worked.

He groans, shuffling and kicking his sweats off, hissing when his hand goes down to tug at his aching cock, relief flooding his veins at the sensation. He lets his mind wander to how adorable she'd be, the way he'd take her apart in the most gentle way. Lay her against the pillows while he holds those soft thighs apart, giving her the most feather light suckles on that perfect clit, basking in all the sounds she'd make. He strokes himself faster thinking about the way he'd get her ready to take all of him. How he'd make it so good for her-shit he was going to blow-maybe if he was lucky, one day she'd let him put his cock in her mou-

"Fuck!!" Bucky threw his head back, spurts of cum shooting from his sensitive head, his post orgasm haze leaving him feeling like a filthy old man. She were here making him baked treats and he was jerking his dick off like a sick fuck.

Then the night finally comes. Bucky is ready to cuddle and nothing else but he's thrown off because never in his wildest fantasies did he expect this.

She is the girl who sends him reeling the first time he takes her clothes off one by one revealing dark ink on her back and hips. He has to suppress a growl, his eyes growing wide at the scantily clad lace that covers her body.

"Like what you see, Sergeant?" she practically purrs in his ear while he lets his han ghost over her bare skin, his chest heaving when his eyes fall to her perfect breasts, hints of silver peeking from under her lingerie, there was no way-

"Can I?" He asks breathlessly, his hand reaching behind to unclasp the bra, those pretty pierced nipples begging to be sucked.

Bucky who turns into a fucking menace, his entire world flipping upside down when she grinds down on his crotch not hiding exactly what she needs from him. He doesn't even have the ability to hide how feral he is, letting all his inhibitions slip.

-

"My little bunny's a slut, fuck, c'mere" He grabs you and tosses you over his shoulder, hauling you over to his bedroom like an untamed beast, tossing you onto his bed with no remorse. You're in nothing but your panties which he rips right off, your thighs squeezing together at the way he stalks over to you, his hungry eyes raking up and down your body without an ounce of shame. He tugs his sweats down to reveal his leaky cock, stroking it at the edge of his bed after tossing his shirt off.

"See this baby? Been fuckin' stroking and touching myself like a fuckin' teenager because of you-" He throws off his pants before climbing onto the bed and kneeling between your thighs, spreading them apart with his knees, "-and you've been here lookin' like God damn sin under those cute little sweaters"

He flicks his cockhead against your clit, humming at the clear beads of his arousal that drip onto your cunt.

"Fuck James, need more, pl-"

"Nuh uh, what was that you called me earlier, sweets?" He lets out a dark chuckle, the veins in his cock throbbing as he tightly holds the base, waiting to hear it again.

"Sergeant" you whine with mischief in your eyes and Bucky is a goner. He'll taste you later and most definitely feed you his cock another day but right now he wants to be nowhere else other than your pussy. He wants to watch you take every bit of him, rolling over to lay on his back while you straddle him, his length slotted against your cunt. He holds it up for you with a cocky look on his face, moaning when his tip breeches your tight pussy, your walls gripping his swollen, pink head.

"That's just the tip baby, c'mon, sit on it, wanna put all of my dick in you, that's it, good girl-shittt"

"Oh fuccckk,s'big" You moan feeling the stretch as you sink all the way down, panting and staying still while you adjust to his size.

"That's it bunny, that's it, ride me, ride your Sergeant" He grabs you by the hips, guiding you to grind down on him, making you feel his entire cock in your stomach. "You're a slut for big dick aren't you baby, acting all cute and shy when all you really wanted was the winter soldier's cock"

Bucky wasn't even sure where all the filth spewing from his mouth was even coming from but he couldn't stop.

"S'that it bunny? Say it baby, tell me how much you wanted my fat cock in you"

"Wanted it! F-cuk Sergeant, wanted your cock s-o-so bad!!"

"Fuck yes!!" His feet plant to meet your bounces, his hips thrusting up, slamming his entire length into you. "M'close, fuck bunny, gonna cum already, I can't hold it-

He doesn't have time to be embarrassed. You feel to good. He rubs your clit needing you to cum all over him so he can let go.

"Please, cum all over Sergeants cock baby, give it to me, be a good girl n'cum, c'mon, cum on my dick, yes, oh fuck yes I can feel it-milk it, shit touch my balls-"

You nearly collapse as your orgasm starts to wash over you, his sponge head hitting the most sensitive parts against your walls while he toys with your clit. His voice is muffled as you start to feel waves of pleasure consume you but you head just enough to reach behind, rubbing his heavy, so full of cum ba-

"FUUUCCCCKKK" He grabs you and wraps his arms around your body while he relentlessly thrusts up, biting down on your shoulder while he lets out the sluttiest, loudest moan with 0 remorse. It feels too good and he's sure the neighbors can hear but honestly, everyone should know how amazing it feels.

-

"I got you pretty baby" Bucky coos as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, a shiver running through you while you float in bliss. Bucky pulls the covers up, deciding to cuddle up with you for a bit before running a shower, his previous demeanor replaced with the far less debauched version of him.

Anyway, just an idea. Also, it's past my bedtime.

[merakidoll]

my monster fucker agenda is back! i missed my big beefy alien man 🎀

your body squrmied, hands bound to the large makeshift bed as you watched the monster watch you as if you were prey, and you were - his. “v-ven-“ you couldn’t fully say his name; his long tounge coming out to lick your wet cheek a deep hiss coming from him. “no talking.” no room in his words were left for you to argue, just the waiting and seeing that what the alien would do.

your legs pushed themselves together to stop the hard ache; you knew the smell of arousal was prominent in the air from how he hissed again, this time it paried with a head jerk and the monsters cock in between his legs bobbing, while thick big drops of his essence fell to the floor. before you blinked he was across the room, keeping a large distance; after, you felt a hard but gentle tug on your legs and a a soft, textured pointy tips fucking into your cunt with the dramatic sounds of your wetness in the air.

your eyes stayed closed as you couldn’t breath by the pleasure. it didn’t take you long to realize it was his tongue! vemom growing more greedy as he ate your using the flattness and length of his wet muscles to fuck into your hole but also tweak your clit, making it sore and sensitive. your breathing finally caught up to you when he pulled back. a deep cry and your body shaking, a orgasm that was right there fading away. “p-please! please! l-love you, please let me c-cum” you tried tugging at the things that bounded you but nothing worked. venom wouldn’t leave his baby all hot and bothered, no no no!

he slowly like a predator, got on the bed and hovered above you, large frame and broad shoulders taking heavy sighs, as he rose your leg to go above your head, so that you were folded just for him. “hmm” he said in a conforming way, one hand holding your legs while the other was used to position his cock to rest between your fat folds. a grunt of disapproval was heard that you didn’t wrap over him completely but it would do, your head and mouth that was right by the tip would help. he tested the position, one thrust of his hips, your clit throbbing and hole dripping, while your lips kissed his large head tasting him just a little!

“a-aging” he said more to himself, this time moving quicker, your tounge making an appearance to give a kitten lick as you moaned; the vibration sending shock waves through his body. after that he didn’t stop, his body feeling so good, you looking so pretty as you let the large drops fall into your mouth but of course all of it didn’t fit. you were too dumb, your pussy and tummy having a sort of feeling - so full, so close - and you came. squirting so much that venom gave you a slap with his cock as a reward. your body was shaking; so sensitive and venom only started to speed up a new found slickness helping him move better.

his slit eyes shut right when he was close, moving back and ignoring how you cried, he gripped himself using both hands pushing at the foreskin to urge it out better. you didn’t have to wait long to be decorated in him. venom making sure you were all painted in his cum so that anyone who thought you weren’t his, would know.

[freakrenaissance]

Love this!! Protective,sexy daddy-to-be... yeah, that suits bucky very well 😍 adorable

Hi!!! I was wondering if I could request a Bucky x pregnant!reader where he's all protective and soft w her. Maybe some smut idk whatever you feel angel

Warnings: 18+. Fluff and smut.

Words: 1OOO

Supressing a deep groan, you throw your head back in an attempt to relieve some painful tension in your body. Digging your fingers into the duvet as you sit at the edge of the bed with your legs planted wide and firmly onto the floor, you suck in air through your nose and puff it out through your mouth. You want to punch the baby bump and let a roller bulldozer roll over your spine in an aggressive attempt to take away the overwhelmingly uncomfortable feeling you are experiencing non-stop.

A straining ache in your muscles, especially your lower back, pelvis and thighs are killing you and you are at the end of your tether. You want to scream and pull your hair and cry and shoot someone, your elevated emotions not exactly helping the frustrations pulsing through your body.

And you feel so alone in your struggles, the powerlessness of it nearly dominating every other sensation.

That’s when a firm palm strokes from the bottom of your spine, all the way up and back down, heat radiating through your back at the warm touch. And tears well up in your eyes, the frustration and brief sense of relief that follows breaking the dams.

One sniffle from you and Bucky is up, scooting over until he is sitting behind you, one leg on each side of you and his chest pressing against your back. You drop your head back against his shoulder as a tear leaks down your face. A pair of soft lips press to your clammy hairline and you let out a soft whimper.

“Oh, baby I know…” He hushes, his hands gently massaging the big bump you carry in front of you “It’s been so long. You’ve created such a great home for him, I don’t blame him for taking a little longer to come out.”

“Bucky, I am this close to hating our baby…” You grumble - half joking, half serious.

He let’s out a gentle chuckle “It’s that uncomfortable, huh?”

You whimper and nod, twisting your head so you can bury your face into Bucky’s neck. His hands knead into your skin gently, your fingers gently sliding in between his as they follow his movements. It slightly alleviates the pain, but you can not put into words how uncomfortable and on edge you are by the last weeks of your pregnancy.

You’ll love little Bucky with your whole heart, whole being, but the discomfort you are currently feeling has you beyond rational thought right now and you don’t know what to do anymore.

“Just a few more days, sweetheart. I feel it.” He whispers and you hum with closed eyes, trying to relax into his arms.

“You are full of shit.” You breathe out, the spot Bucky is currently rubbing seemingly moving the baby away from a painful position.

Bucky lets out a laugh and nods, understanding that you have a free pass to dismiss his kind words. He knows you are only trying to lighten the mood just as much as you know he is only trying to comfort you.

You stay like that for a while, him rubbing your bump and later your back to soothe you back to sleep. When you finally fall into a slumber, he gently lies you down and continues rubbing to keep the baby active and you get to sleep. He knows the baby becomes active the minute your body stops swaying.

After a few minutes, he can tell your legs are cramping when your face scrunches up in pain and your legs become restless. It’s been one of the side effects of your pregnancy and Bucky promised to have a serious word with your son after he comes out for hurting you so much.

Bucky’s hands move down to your thighs and massage them gently until relief washes over your sleeping features and your restlessness dissipates.

That’s when he remembers something he read on the internet. Desperate to help you out during such a difficult time, especially because you are carrying his baby and he can never repay you the way you deserve, he went searching far and wide for tips and tricks to make it easier for you. After all, he never thought having a baby was even an option for him. But now here you are, his miracle girl, carrying his little baby son.

Bucky even orchestrated a day in which he got you anything and everything to eat just to figure out your cravings and nausea-triggers early on in the pregnancy. Got you every body pillow you desired, got you the softest and most comfortable maternity pants and the sweet man told you if your boobs ever got too swollen and heavy, he would hold them for you.

How thoughtful of him.

But one thing he read, hadn’t actually crossed his mind in the past few weeks because he was so busy preparing the house and making sure you were distracted enough from the delayed birth. However, seeing you lie here now, semi-peaceful and beautiful as ever with glowing skin and a white tank top that makes your sensitive nipples poke through, Bucky licks his lips at the sight.

He is so goddamn attracted to you - it’s insane.

So his palm strokes up your thigh, his calloused fingers tracing over the seam of your underwear. Thumb lightly brushing over the centre, he presses down on the little bud at the top of your slit. Slow circles drag over your clothed clit until Bucky feels it grow more prominent to his touch.

A heavy breath leaves your lips and that is when he truly sees you relax. He should have known all his dirty girl needed was this to really wind down.

Steady circles slowly pick up their pace and a soft hum rumbles through you at the sensation, a wet patch growing between your legs as Bucky watches it eagerly. When he adds more pressure, your eyes flutter open and you let out a long moan at the feeling of him rubbing you just right.

“Bucky…” You whimper and he presses his lips to your thighs softly.

“You know what? I’m going to let nature do her job.” He decides, grinning up at you as your hazy brain tries to catch on to his words and their meaning “I’m going to get that baby out of you the same way I put it in there.”

Another moan.

“Grab a pillow, baby. Don’t want the neighbours to call the cops.”

[hyper-fixates]

Time After Time

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 15.2k never let me near him again

Tags/warnings: age-gap due to logan’s mutation (reader’s age not specified), mutant!reader, unprotected sex, teasing, friends to lovers, explicit language, dry humping, storm cameos, fluff, domesticity, the claws come out when he’s close (👁️👁️), detailed descriptions & scenes of nightmares/trauma/PTSD/panic attacks, one (1) ass smack, alcohol consumption, vomiting, biting/marking, angst, soft!logan, creampie, groping/touching, use of “baby” once, aftercare, yearning (kindly let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: 4 times you end up in Logan’s bed, and the 1 time he does something about it.

Notes: this falls somewhere in between “which could mean nothing” and “we can fix each other” 🫡 (written with a mix of X1 & X2 logan!)

Your heart, despite always being alive and beating, sometimes wakes up before you.

You can feel it before your eyes even have a chance to open. It jolts your sleep-ridden body and collapses your lungs without giving your brain a chance to fight against it. Muscles and limbs feel lifeless and detached from your body, shaking from the sleep that your heart knows wasn’t completely dreamless.

You kick the blankets off of yourself and sit up in a panic, trying to regain some control of your sudden erratic breaths while bringing a lethargic hand to your heaving chest in hopes to ground yourself. It never works.

Maybe your ribs are shrinking and squeezing your lungs, making you delirious from the lack of oxygen, but you know that’s not the case. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed and broken into a million tiny pieces.

No part of your body feels real, yet you keep your hand on your chest as firmly as you can, trying to focus on controlling the pounding of your heart that’s working so hard with each beat that it hurts. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” you choke out, feeling the tears finally breach and roll down your cheeks as your nervous system catches up to what’s happening.

 Panic. It’s all panic.

You can’t do anything but sit there and let the tears hit the freshly-washed fitted sheet on your bed. So you let it happen. Nothing can stop it.

Trauma is such a fickle thing. One moment you’re fine, and then the next, your heart is screaming at you and forcing your body to process something at 4 a.m. on a random Friday when all you wanted was some goddamn sleep.

There is no choice. Your mind doesn’t give you one.

The tremors subside slowly after a few minutes, giving you the feeling back to your arms and legs, albeit minimal.

You slide to sit at the edge of your bed, resting an elbow on your thigh and setting your chin into your palm with a defeated, yet shaky, huff. 

You look to your window and see that the sun hasn’t even started to rise yet. You’ll be up for the rest of the foreseeable morning, but there’s not much to do so early besides wander aimlessly and think…then think some more. 

You’re confident the professor isn’t even awake at this hour, which says enough about your state. You would typically go visit Storm for some comfort, but she’s been gone fuck-knows-where with Hank and Scott until Sunday at the latest. Thanks, Charles.

A questionable, and probably manic, decision comes to mind. One that’s only two doors down, one over from Storm.

Your impulsive feet make up your mind for you. The cold hardwood floor shocking you further into consciousness as if your heart didn’t do a good enough job.

You tiptoe a couple steps down the hall, forcing yourself to turn and face the large wooden door when you reach it. You just stand there staring at it, unknocking, analyzing the wood grains, suddenly very interested in what type of wood it is and what stain was used to—

“Uh. Are you okay?”

You refocus your eyes onto the man now standing in front of you in the doorway, adorning a barely-zipped school hoodie and black sweats.

“Huh?” You blink a few times, disoriented.

Logan quirks a brow, looking you up and down cautiously. “Are you okay?” He asks again, offering a look of concern—or maybe confusion—that you haven’t seen often. A look that’s never needed to be directed towards you.

You come back to yourself. “But—I…didn’t knock,” you respond, looking equally as confused as him as you point to the door. 

He leans against the edge of the door, face softening. “I could smell you before you passed Storm’s room,” he clarifies, a hint of reluctance in his tone. Oh. 

You feel like a child who has just gained awareness, all too conscious of your situation.

“You’re…awake?” Is all you manage despite probably needing to say much more than that to explain just why exactly you’re standing outside Logan’s room at 4 a.m.

“So are you,” he counters with a curious look. “So let me ask again. Are you okay?” He locks his eyes on yours, probably in hopes to understand why the fuck you’re outside his room at 4 a.m.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” you say, and it’s the truth. 

You should probably be embarrassed. You show up at Logan’s door unannounced, dressed in a flimsy shirt and matching sweats—thanks, Charles—that can’t fully hide the remaining quivers throughout your body.

Logan pulls his lips together at your admission. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head trying to figure you out.

“Can’t sleep?” He questions, but he knows he’s right.

“Yeah.” You don’t know why you’re making it Logan’s problem, though. Sure, he happens to be awake, but maybe this is all too personal to push on the guy who’s seemingly all pride and no solicitude most of the time.

It’s not that he’s not a good, nice guy, but you don’t know how you would define your relationship, or lack of.

You know each other well enough from existing in the same space over the past couple months, being part of the same “team”, but it’s nothing to call a close friendship like you and Storm. He’s a bit of a rare species in the mansion, not really lingering around.

He cocks his head in a half shrug, the soft points in his hair broken by sleep shake gently with the movement.

“I don’t think I can help you,” he says wearily. “I’m no better. Clearly.” He gestures between you, drawing attention to the fact that you’re both awake. The helpless cannot help the helpless.

“Oh—no, I’m not looking for help. I think I’m beyond that at this point,” you laugh but stop yourself short when Logan doesn’t follow. Tough crowd.

“I, uh, don’t actually know what I’m looking for,” you offer.

You knit your brows together in thought, still wondering why the fuck you’re here. Comfort? Entertainment? Some other unknown third thing?

“I’m not really used to Storm being gone for so long,” you admit. “I just feel…all over the place, I guess.”

Logan considers your vulnerability for a beat, eyes flicking to yours. “I can hear you sometimes,” he says, a knowing—almost sympathetic—look on his face. “We have the same problem.”

You go cold, any expression you had on your face sliding away. You wish the floor could swallow you right now. You know things have been getting worse recently, but you didn’t think anyone could hear that fact. Maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise from someone who could smell you from down the hallway.

He steps back, pulling his door open further. An invitation.

You don’t move right away. Could this be a false awakening? You’re not sure what you expected when you came to his door, but you also didn’t expect him to open it without you knocking, so you have to suspend disbelief for now. You figured he’d offer a few words of advice and dismiss you, or maybe even tell you to fuck off, but he opened his door wider for you. But you didn’t exactly think any of it through in the first place anyway.

You force your feet to carry you into Logan’s room. It’s not much different from yours; scarce belongings, minimal decor, a small work desk, brown curtains that are drawn back, and a bed. 

“Were you, uh…sleeping before I came?” You sit on the unmade bed, nothing noticeably different from it compared to yours.

He shuts the door quietly, moving to the small desk across the room and filing some scattered papers together neatly.

“Trying to,” he says, keeping his gaze on the desk.

Fucking duh. “Sorry if I disturbed you,” you wince to yourself. 

You see him briefly shake his head at your unnecessary apology. “I had to get up anyway.” His voice is still gravelly from sleep.

It feels like you’re invading his space. But he invited you in. How many others have had the opportunity to be in here? Probably too many. There’s nothing to make this special.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” you sigh, flopping back on his bed defeated. Simply overwhelmed with the uncontrollable repercussions of your mutation.

“Try to sleep. If you want,” he offers, moving to the edge of the bed. “It’s easier said than done, but I have to meet with Charles in an hour.” It’s gruff, but he’s sincere.  

Maybe the professor is awake after all.

You roll your head to the side to look at him. Was he really offering for you to stay in his bed?

“Oh, wow…uh, sure.” It comes off as more of a question, but he quirks his brows in acknowledgment, turning back to the desk and collecting a handful of other miscellaneous papers.

“I have to head downstairs and take care of some things. Stay as long as you need,” he says, zipping his sweater the rest of the way up. Thank God in heaven.

A shy “thanks” is all you manage as you situate yourself on the bed.

Is this fucking weird? You could name a handful of others in the mansion right this second that would kill without hesitation to be where you are. They’d probably kill you specifically to get it. It’s not much of a secret that Logan is the subject of almost all students’ desires. He knows it, too. 

“See you later,” he adds, his lips forming the slightest hint of a caring smile as he sees himself out. You throw one back before the door clicks shut.

Should you be offended that he didn’t stay? That he left so quickly? No, no, he can’t. He couldn’t. Charles is expecting him. The timing is just horrid. But now you’re just…alone…in Logan’s room, expected to sleep because of a random act of kindness in his heart.

Lying in his bed instead of yours is an odd sensation. The sheets and mattress are exactly the same, the pillows are just as fluffy, yet it feels unalike. 

You flop your head on his pillow, tugging the blankets up to your chin. Your fingers graze something by your hip as you settle in, making you push the blanket back down. Leaning over, you see three puncture marks in the mattress, fraying the bedsheet material into feather-soft strands around the deep holes.

Your eyes widen, remembering his words before he invited you in: “We have the same problem.”

Part of your heart fractures for the second time today. Your eyes cross over to the other side of you, seeing a matching set of holes just below the pillow. It’s suddenly easy to understand why no one besides him has been seen coming and going from this room in a while. One day, things just seemed to change. 

Maybe his act of kindness was an act of mercy. Trauma will always find you, and it will make sure you feel it until you either destroy it or it destroys you.

Even the Wolverine isn’t an exception. 

━━━━ ● ━━━━

The gold liquid is gone from the glass as quickly as it was poured.

Your throat clenches and protests the swallow as you try to suppress the urge to gag. You gently set the shot glass back on the counter, watching Storm chase with a piece of lime that does nothing to help the puckered face she makes from the tequila. 

“No more, no more. I can’t.” Your arms anchor you to the counter to stop yourself from swaying too much.

Storm nods, still fighting off the sourness with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose. You giggle at her when she quickly screws the cap back on the bottle, sliding it out of reach.

“You’re a bad influence,” she scolds as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“No—I��m under the influence,” you counter, a playful smile on your lips. “There’s a difference. You still have your own free will.”

Storm rolls her eyes so hard you only see the whites of them. “We have training tomorrow,” she slurs. “Charles will not be happy if we show up half-conscious.” She rounds the counter to you, grabbing your shoulders for stability, and you do the same.

“He’ll be lucky if we show up at all,” you mumble. 

The dim kitchen lighting embraces the two of you, the rest of the mansion blanketed in darkness with everyone fast asleep—like you both should be.

You close your eyes with a roll of your neck, more giggles falling through your lips as you clumsily grab onto Storm and rock and sway together for a moment, the alcohol quickly catching up to your motor skills. It feels like you’re spinning through time and space, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel fucking euphoric. At this rate, neither of you will be able to make it back to your rooms.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You lose a bit of your balance as you try to find the resonant voice, eyes shooting open. Storm unintentionally startles and stumbles away from you, white hair also jumping from the excitement.

You grab onto the counter again, sucking in a deep breath. “Fuck, don’t do that,” you growl through your teeth, a hand on your chest as you try to calm yourself.

“Don’t do what? Come to the shared kitchen to grab a drink?” Logan huffs a laugh, an amused smile creeps to his lips as he takes in your drunk and shaken state from the entryway.

“Doesn’t anyone sleep in this place?” He mumbles to himself.

“And with that, I’m done for the night,” Storm chuckles, fixing her hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her eyes lock intensely on yours, index finger firmly poking the middle of your chest to make her point for you to show up to training very clear.

“See you, Logan,” she dismisses, stumbling as she passes him.

Logan shakes his head, still smiling. He steps to the fridge, opening the double doors and plucking a bottle of soda from the bottom shelf. No alcohol is readily available in the communal fridge because, after all, you’re all in a school full of kids, so Storm had to get creative; Scott will be missing a rather large bottle from the now not-so-secret stash in his room.

As the alcohol continues to settle in you, you feel more and more lightheaded as it brings you to a new level of euphoria again. You only know this because watching Logan pop the cap of his drink with mindless ease feels a little more exciting than it would be if you were sober. But you’re not sober, and that’s the problem.

“Not gonna follow Storm?” He asks, taking a generous sip from the bottle as he casually places his free hand on the counter to lean on across from you.

A tight smile forms, mostly to yourself. “I don’t think I can make it down the hall,” you laugh in embarrassment. Maybe that last shot was one too many, and it’s not even fully done working its magic yet.

Logan raises a brow. “Want some help?” There’s no judgement in his tone like you expect. Then again, you don’t know what the fuck to expect from him.

Your already half-closed eyes, blurry and unfocused, meet his hazel ones in interest. Another favour?

It’s been two weeks since he let you sleep off the nightmares in his bed. Two weeks since you learned he’s burdened with them, too. You traced the holes in the mattress over and over before you eventually fell asleep, wondering what—or who—could have hurt him so badly. He plays it off cool; you wouldn’t suspect anything from talking to him. The same could probably be said about you.

“I didn’t know wolverine’s were chivalrous,” you tease.

The yellow hue of the lights dance over the quaffed points in his hair, making them appear sharper than usual. You would never admit it, especially to him, but you adore them. They give him an absurd amount of character that you’d expect a guy like him to not care about. 

You’re not exactly complaining about the fitting grey tank-top he has on either.

“Not overly,” he plays along, taking another mouthful of the fizzy drink. “I like to think I’m special,” he says quieter.

“Maybe you are,” you say as you try and straighten yourself to see if you can stand unassisted.

The world tilts as you stand to your full height, eyes rolling into your head from the wave of dizziness. “Wow, okay,” you say to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the spinning. How many shots did you have again?

A warm hand presses between your shoulders. “Woah, nice and easy. Nice and easy.” Logan appears by your side to steady you, other hand grabbing your elbow to pull you straight. You wobble in his grip, letting him guide your useless, alcohol-ridden body.

His hand on your back rubs a few small, comforting circles as you work to regain your bearings. He watches your expressions intently, looking for the right moment to get you moving back to your room safe and sound.

Your arm crosses over your body out of instinct to grab the hand he has on your elbow for extra support.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He seems to ask you that a lot.

You lean into him, your shoulder to his chest, and you can feel the blackout creeping up on you like humidity from a thunderstorm—it’s usually too late to do anything once you notice it. 

“I drank a lot,” you laugh deeply, rolling your head onto his shoulder to look up at him.

He looks so much more delicate under the ambient lights—his usual defined features have shifted and melted him into someone that doesn’t look like they should be a feared animal out in the world.

Logan all but cradles you, that same look of concern crossing his features from the night you went to his door. The only difference is that you’ve had a generous amount of tequila—and are currently being kept alert by the hot touch of his hands. That’s new.

“Can you walk?” He holds your squinty eye contact, probably searching for any signs of a coherent thought behind the blissful expression on your face. “Or will I have to carry you?” He muses, a hint of a smile crosses his lips as his hand moves up to gently rub over your shoulders. 

Drunk you likes the sound of anything relating to Logan keeping his hands on you right now. You wonder what sober you would think.

“I’m not gonna tell you no, but it feels like I’m floating in a bubble that won’t stop spinning,” you hum as you let the sensation consume your senses. “I might fly away.” You dip your head back off of his shoulder in amusement as you laugh again. 

“Yeah, you’re fucked up,” he mumbles lovingly. Just like anyone else who’s concerned for your well-being would. 

“Hey, kitty cat—I’m perfectly buzzed,” you emphasize the teasing nickname, narrowing your eyes at him sternly as you bring your gaze back to his in defence.

“‘Kitty cat’? Really?” He snorts. “I think you’re past your bedtime by three drinks,” he remarks back with equal levity.

“Then take me to bed if you’re so concerned,” you sigh dramatically, going limp in his arms to make your point. 

Truthfully, you’re probably past your bedtime by five shots. But he doesn’t need to know that. You just know that you can’t control your limbs like you were able to ten minutes ago.

“Maybe I will.” You don’t see it, but he does his quick little eye roll that you’ve seen pointed towards Scott too many times. 

He slides the hand on your elbow down to the backs of your knees, pulling you up off the floor and into his chest as you fall into the arm that was rubbing your back. 

Oh, so it’s gonna be like that. 

An excited—or maybe shocked—noise escapes your mouth as he adjusts you in his arms. You extend your right arm up and over his shoulder to hug his neck and keep yourself stable.

The trip to your room isn’t one that should take long, but each sway from Logan’s steps goes straight to your stomach in waves of queasiness. It feels like forever before you feel him bend awkwardly to turn your doorknob.

You’re fighting to keep yourself conscious the entire time, not wanting to regret missing the feeling of being in his arms.

The room is only lit by the silver moonlight creeping through the window. It’s hard to distinguish anything through your bleary eyes besides Logan’s look of determination to get you in your bed.

He leans down, shuffling you out of his arms and onto the mattress as swiftly as possible. The care of it all pokes at your heart. 

He silently goes around each corner of the bed adjusting the blankets. It may be dark, but the moonlight highlights the peaks of his shoulders as he moves. Your eyes might be involuntarily half-shut, but that doesn’t stop you from staring.

You’re now probably no better than every other mutant in this school.

“Logan,” you start before you can fully process the foolish thing you’re about to say next.

He rounds the bed back to the side you’re huddled on, looking down on you. “Yeah?” The subtle jingle of his dog tag pierces the quiet that’s lingering in the room.

You part your lips to speak but the words die in your throat. They’re replaced by a flood of saliva that has you sitting up at a speed that shouldn’t be possible for someone as intoxicated as you. You cover your mouth with your hand, feeling your stomach churning and finally rejecting the tequila. 

You suddenly feel very awake.

“Hey, hey.” Logan squats down in front of you with his already permanently-furrowed brows pinched closer together than you’ve ever seen before, a hand coming to your shoulder in concern. “What—”

“Bathroom,” you mumble through your palm, eyes rolling shut at the nausea. 

He doesn’t say another word. He pulls you to your feet by your arms, walking behind you fiercely with his hands gripping your shoulders to guide you to the small bathroom across the room.  

You push the door open, falling to your knees in the darkness over the toilet as the mistakes from the night expel themselves from your body through rounds of coughing and gagging. He lingers in the doorway, keeping an eye on you but still giving you privacy.

“Fuck,” you cough, resting your warm forehead on your hand as you slump against the toilet. That definitely sobered you up fast.

Exhaustion hits you like a truck. “Logan…” you croak from your crumpled position on the tile floor. 

He steps in, bending down again to reach your height. You can barely make out the shadow of him in the fading moonlight.

“Just…help me back to bed,” you groan, reaching for his arm as you use the toilet seat to push yourself the rest of the way up. You stumble against him as you try to make it back through the doorway.

He guides you to the bed the same way he did to the bathroom—steering you from behind.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says as you settle back into bed, head hitting the pillow with a quiet thud. “Even though you did this to yourself.”

“Fuck off,” you groan.

You close your eyes, hearing his footsteps fade back toward the bathroom. You hear the tap run for a couple seconds before he’s next to you again, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Drink. All of it,” he says firmly, holding the cup out to you.

You sit back up slowly, no doubt lethargic, an unimpressed look on your face that earns you a raised brow that tells you there’s no room to object.

You finish the cup in four mouthfuls, handing it back to him. “Thanks.”

You fall back onto the pillow, no longer feeling like you’re travelling through space and time.

The clothes you’re in are close enough to pyjamas. There’s no sense in undressing in front of Logan, especially with what you were about to say to him before you were rudely interrupted by the consequences of your own actions.

He returns the cup to the bathroom and you pull the blanket over your waist as you hopefully settle in for the rest of the night. You owe him big time for this. The thought of just how exactly you’ll manage that fills you with anxiety.

You turn on your side, fingers sliding over the mattress with the movement. They graze familiar strands of feather-soft fabric by the pillow.

This is Logan’s room. Are you just that drunk that you couldn’t tell the difference when he brought you in? Or are your rooms just that similar to each other?

You dip a finger in one of the three holes, hearing the bathroom door click shut as Logan makes his way back. 

“Why am I in your bed?” You see him rustling through some drawers of clothing by the small desk, but he stops when you finish your question.

“You can’t take care of yourself tonight,” he says. “You’re too drunk.” He pulls the grey tank-top off, stuffing it in one of the drawers and shutting it.

You sit up at that, head still foggy and tipsy, watching him move to the foot of the bed across from you. You try to focus your eyes on anything but his bare chest and the dark hair that adorns it and trails down past the waistband of his sweats. His hair is somehow even more wild from mindlessly pulling the tank-top over his head.

“Ah. I was gonna ask you to stay anyway,” you reveal, almost whispering the bold confession.

You were planning to ask before the tequila decided to make another appearance, but maybe doing it this way isn’t so bad either. He did all the heavy-lifting.

A modest, tight-lipped smile graces his lips. “I think you still have some tequila to sleep off.”

Whether or not you still have some shots in your system, what you feel and want right now is real. It’s not influenced by anything besides some mild andronitis created by the fact that you share a common struggle.

“Is it…safe? To share a bed?” The most coherent thought you’ve had all night makes him stiffen from your sudden nervous tone. Your body could easily replace the mattress and become a new home for the deep punctures. 

Your eyelids have been fighting against being pulled shut by alcohol-induced drowsiness, yet your eyes are wider than they’ve been all night in this moment.

You’re sat right in the middle of the bed and Logan comes around to the right, sitting on the edge of the mattress to come down to your level.

“You’re just gonna have to trust me.” His eyes are imploring and apologetic all at once. He understands the prospect of even having you here in the first place.

You nod, sliding over to the left to give him more room. 

Logan wouldn’t put you in harms way, you reason with yourself. He wouldn’t risk potentially killing someone, especially a fellow mutant, if he wasn’t absolutely sure of his mental state. But you also don’t really know his demons.

You roll onto your right side, tugging the blanket up to your chin in comfort. “Why haven’t you been given a new mattress?” You ask as he turns to face you in the same position, his half of the blanket resting at his hip.

The bed dips significantly on his side, almost encouraging you to roll over against him.

“Forgot to ask,” he says quietly, running his right hand through his hair to push the shorter strands off his forehead.

From his tone you can decipher that he actually means “can’t be bothered.” It’s a devastating thing to imagine just how many he goes through, anyway. He probably doesn’t see the point in replacing something that will inevitably have the same fate as the others.

There has to be less than an arms length between you two. It’s a surreal situation to be in considering what you thought you knew about him. A recluse. Standoffish. Maybe it’s all a fluke and the alcohol is severely fucking with your perception of what’s actually happening.

“Thanks for everything,” you whisper as if someone else will overhear.

“Get some sleep,” he insists, rolling onto his back. You do the same.

You stare at the blank ceiling for a while, noticing the exact moment Logan falls asleep; his breathing grows slow and his body runs even hotter than before. 

You think about how he could wake at any moment, claws accidentally sliding right through your stomach from a nightmare or two. You imagine all the others that have been in your position—if they felt scared, if they even knew. 

He asked you to trust him, and that should be enough. 

There is a body full of secrets and hurt sleeping undisturbed next to you with the ability to withstand and regenerate from any physical injury, yet there’s something that hasn’t allowed the same to be done for his mind. 

━━━━

The bright amber sun hits your closed eyes through the window, making you roll your head away onto the other side of the cool pillow.

You want more sleep. Your head feels like a bag of bricks and your body feels like it got beat with them.

You stretch a leg out, gently grazing something solid with your foot. Your eyes shoot open, the night coming back to you as you drift into consciousness. Logan. 

You shoot up, bouncing a little from the momentum.

Logan startles next to you, clearly interrupted from a deep sleep. “What the fuck…” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face, not seeming interested in making a move to sit up with you.

“What time is it?” Your eyes bounce around the room looking for a clock.

He grunts, reaching for a watch on the nightstand. “Seven-forty.”

You needed to be in the Danger Room for 7 o’clock.

“Fuck!” You rip the blanket off, almost tripping as you run to the bathroom.

Logan also wants to roll back over and go back to sleep, but he knows he won’t be able to. He doesn’t work like that. So he just lays there, listening to you swear and make a mess of his bathroom as the clattering of fuck-knows-what fills the room. 

The surprise of how well he slept makes him feel uneasy. Although it definitely wasn’t eight hours, it was uninterrupted. He doesn’t want to credit that to you, though. He wants to believe that he’s getting better overall, and maybe he is, so he can’t offer you any flattery in his mind.

Another distant “fuck” escapes the bathroom, pulling him out of his thoughts. You exit a few minutes later, as refreshed and presentable as you could get yourself, and the sight of Logan still in bed makes something in you ache for another moment of feeling him care and tend to you. Maybe that’s your hangover talking.

“Thanks again. I’ll see you around,” you say hurriedly, offering an apologetic smile as you turn the doorknob to leave.

“Good luck with Charles.” It’s a genuine advisory. Fuck. You’ll be so incredibly lucky if he doesn’t give you more than a stern lecture in front of everyone.

You take a deep breath in and slip out of Logan’s room. There’s not a single cut, mark, or scratch on you, just like he promised.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“I was told it’ll take a day to fix,” Storm explains with a shrug. “You’ll have to find somewhere or someone to room with until tomorrow. Jean already offered to have me stay with her.” A contrite look passes over her face.

You stand outside your rooms, staring in at the remnants of the mess caused by two terrakinetic kids fucking around in the courtyard when they weren’t supposed to be. They somehow managed to throw, or launch, sizeable tree branches right through each of your windows. Of course it wasn’t on purpose, but the Danger Room exists for a reason—to avoid mishaps like this. 

Shards of glass and fragments of wood splatter your floors. The branches are hanging half-way out both of your windows, caught on the window sills and bobbing in the evening summer wind. The kids are extremely fortunate that neither of you were in your rooms when it happened.

“It’s fine. It’s just one night,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes in frustration. You don’t love how quickly your mind picks out who to go to. It’s already nearing 11 p.m., so you have to work fast. 

Storm squeezes your shoulder in comfort. “The living room is always free,” she suggests with a remorseful smile.

But you don’t want the living room. Stiff couches mixed with students clamouring and passing by at the crack of dawn isn’t exactly a recipe for a good nights rest. As if you usually get one, anyway.

“Not a fucking chance,” you laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you say again, dismissing her worries. You wish her goodnight when she steps by you to head towards Jean’s room at the very end of the hall.

You glare at the mess in your room, not daring to step in. The amount of shattered glass everywhere makes the floor look like a body of water from the reflections of the pale moonlight bouncing and refracting off of the jagged shards.

“Fuck,” you spit through your teeth, solely to yourself.

Not even a full week after Logan saw you at your worst, you’re going to go back and ask for the left side of his bed. Shameless.

You don’t have much of a choice; you’re not comfortable having it be anyone else. It’s only because Logan saw you at your worst that you feel he’s the most logical choice. Already having shared a bed with him this week may also have some weight in your decision.  

You take the few self-assured steps to his room, once again standing in front of his door. This time you feel more confident in approaching the Wolverine in his den.

You knock three times, the piercing sound echoing through the hall.

“You start to miss me or what?” A bare chest enters your view. You note the dog tag hanging from his neck again before you find his unyielding gaze full of ambiguity, wondering why you’re here. Again.

You blink at him slowly in hilarity. “Ha, funny. Can I stay with you tonight?” You ask flatly, not thrilled with the situation, but not completely displeased with being here now. “My window—”

“I know what happened,” he interrupts. “Figured you’d go for the couch in the living room.” He looks at you more pointedly with teasing suspicion. 

“I think you know no one would ever willingly choose to sleep out there,” you reason, running a hand over your face in both shame and defeat.

He makes a face that tells you “touché” and you smirk in satisfaction. “If you don’t mind giving up half of your bed again, I would really appreciate it. I promise I’m not trying to make this a habit,” you sigh. Spending the night in Logan’s bed three times in the past month has to be a record for anyone recently. 

“I don’t think it would be a bad habit,” he argues. Oh. “C’mon.” He gives a jerk of his head to allow you in, his tufts of his hair bristling with the quick movement.

“Thanks,” you squeak. He wants you here? 

He shuts the door behind you, following you to the bed that’s clearly already had him in it. The blanket rests in waves on the mattress that remind you of just how human Logan is despite his reputation and image.

“Do you have an early morning?” You ask, slipping under the blanket.

“No. Charles was feeling nice for once,” he raises his tone sarcastically to rag on Charles’ judgement, which has clearly been a much needed one before now.

“Not an early bird?” You roll onto your right side like last time, facing him as he settles on his back with a deep breath. The bed sinks in again where he lays, your body wanting to give in to the laws of gravity and fall into him.

“Fuck no,” he laughs lightly, eyes crinkling around the corners. It’s self-deprecating, but it’s still a genuine laugh. The condescension from it lingers in the air, all directed at himself in a way that tells you he’s thinking about how inconceivably fucked up he is.

The last time he had a decent sleep was when you were drunk in his bed a few days ago.

“People like us don’t usually get the pleasure of a full eight hours,” he notes, sliding his gaze to yours for a fraction of a second.

He props an arm behind his head, the other resting on his chest and idly twisting the dog tag between his fingers. You watch the thin piece of steel slide and flip easily, the chain tinkling with every movement.

People like us.

“You mean mutants,” you state. You see his jaw tense in what little light there is from the half-moon tonight.

You see his brows pull together. “Yeah.” He has a point.

You think about the mutants you know, how they all have some horrific story about their gifts or family, or both. How they either were shamed by society or experimented on like rats. 

The scenarios are endless. If you can think of it, some mutant has probably lived it.

Your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach. You and Logan are not isolated or special cases, but you’ve already shared a moment of vulnerability with him when you came to his door all those weeks ago seeking solace for the same thing he fights with: the inescapable ability of remembering.

You pull the blanket tighter against you. “I don’t think you’ll hurt me.” 

He turns his head to you, confusion written on his face. “What?” He stops toying with the dog tag.

“Your claws. I trust you.” You didn’t feel like you were in immediate danger that first night, but you want to reassure him anyway. Or maybe you’re reassuring yourself. 

He hasn’t had to say a single word for you to know his nightmares trigger something instinctive and combative that’s been hardwired into his DNA. In this case, it’s his claws needing to find a home in his mattresses, where another body could potentially lay one night. Like yours is right now.

You noticed the lack of holes in this mattress when you first got to the bed. Maybe you mentioning them last time was enough for him to finally request a new one.

Logan knows he shouldn’t make promises he doesn’t know he’ll be able to keep, but he wants to keep you here tonight, so he improvises. He abandons the dog tag between his fingers completely, turning onto his side and reaching to find your hand under the blanket. You meet him halfway, sliding your fingers between his as your palms lay flat on the bed.

A smile tugs at your lips for a moment. He watches your interlinked fingers, observing the size difference, wondering if he really just did that—and why. 

You assume it’s his way of saying “thank you” for your trust when you probably shouldn’t be putting that much into him.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, pulling your fingers out from his just enough to caress the divets between his knuckles that conceal the claws.

He knows what you’re asking. “Every time.” He softly pushes his fingers back into yours, squeezing a little. 

There’s a deadly stillness in the room despite his window being cracked. You both know you’re one in the same in a way, and that’s a connection that Logan hasn’t let himself experience. Not everyone likes looking in a mirror.

To be truly seen by someone, wholly, without judgement or fear, is what he deserves. 

“What are you?” He asks, rubbing his index finger back and forth along the top of your hand. “Telekinetic? Psychic?” His curious voice grows quiet, hazel eyes fascinated with you and your lack of a physical mutation, at least nothing that he can see.

It never occurred to you that he didn’t know your mutation, or that you’ve never told him. It was never needed, but it seems unfair that you know about his when he wasn’t the one who told you.

“Ha, close.” Your eyes twinkle as you notice how intently he’s listening. “Psychometric,” you correct, watching his forehead crease.

“Sounds like math,” he quips, readjusting his head on the pillow. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he’s putting off.

You laugh quietly. “No, it’s extrasensory perception. It lets me see the history of any object or person I touch, but only if I accept the energy,” you explain.

You watch his eyes narrow and you know what he’s thinking, so you quickly interject as he begins to pull his hand out from yours. “I need to touch a pulse point to be able to see anything,” you reassure, feeling his fingers slide back against yours. “The heart remembers everything,” you clarify.

The catch? The person’s memories and past stay with you after you see them. It’s become hard to distinguish what memories are yours or someone else’s. They all become intertwined. Good or bad, violent or gentle. You see it all, and then it’s part of you. Forever.

“I haven’t looked. I promise.” 

“Good. You don’t need to see that shit,” he huffs, eyes wandering over your face. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he’s a little startled for the first time in a while.

“I’m sure I’ve seen it all,” you state. It’s probably not far off from the truth. Your gift came when you were all too young, and plenty of time has passed since then for you to rack up this amount of damage from near-strangers and their lives.

“No, you haven’t.” A sure expression passes over him, shaking his head as best as he can against the pillow. 

“Then I’ll count myself lucky,” you say softly. You have no idea what Logan has experienced, but his demeanor makes you want to stay curious. Not everything needs to be known, and you’re definitely not entitled to it.

A faint smile appears on his lips, then it’s gone just as quick. “Get some sleep,” he rasps. He turns onto his back and his hand abandons yours. 

It’s a complete repeat of last time.

Something twinges in your heart, and you don’t like it. What exactly had you expected from Logan? He’s just doing you a courtesy by letting you stay here for the night. Nothing more. And that’s what you should expect: nothing.

The hum of crickets outside eventually lulls you into a dead sleep. It’s heavy and deep, not a single muscle twitching in your body. Logan breathes steadily next to you, a hand on his chest as the occasional snore fills the air.

From above you two might look like you’re transient, only here in this moment for a short time. And, realistically, you are. 

━━━━

Logan was no where to be seen by the time you woke up, and you made quick work to get out of his room. It always feel wrong to be in someone’s space when they aren’t there.

Just like Storm said, the windows in your rooms were fixed the next day. It looks as though nothing even happened.

“Thank fuck,” you mumble to yourself as you step back into your room.

If you ever have to spend another night in Logan’s bed, you might as well wear a shirt that says “yes, we’re fucking!”, even if it isn’t true. You could deny it all you want, but it won’t stop what students would say. Nothing gets past them, even if it’s behind a closed door.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“Are you fucking Logan?”

You almost swallow your tongue. “Sorry?” Your brows shoot up in surprise, eyes round in disbelief.

“Are you guys sleeping together?” Storm casually asks as she flicks through the T.V. channels, glancing over to you from her spot on the couch.

You’re sat comfortably in an arm chair, suddenly no longer caring what channel she decides on. “Why would you think that?” Technically you were sleeping together, but not like that. It may never happen again, no matter how badly you want it to.

“Things travel fast around here,” she deflects with a cheeky smile. “And, you know, Logan is…Logan.” She shrugs.

You don’t even know what to say to that. Is there a right or wrong answer?

“It wasn’t like that,” you grumble. “He was doing me a favour. As a friend.” It hasn’t even been a full day since he let you stay with him while pieces of your window laid on your floor, and people are already convinced you’re fucking. 

You haven’t even managed a chaste kiss, despite how much as you want to, never mind his dick being balls deep in you.

“Right.” She emphasizes the word, not convinced. Or just pushing your buttons because she can. 

You roll your eyes. “If anything was happening, you’d be the first to know,” you point out. 

She looks back over to you. “I know,” she says with another, more sincere, smile. “You two would be cute, though.” 

You give her some side-eye, not quite sure if you disagree entirely with that statement. Whatever happens, happens. Logan is not something you can control or influence. He does what—and who—he wants, when he wants. 

━━━━

A bolt of lightening strikes you. You gasp, then release a choked cry, eyes flying open as you claw at your chest in terror.

Your throat tightens and you break out in a cold sweat as you sit up. The soft blanket around you feels constricting. Sporadic and short breaths make you heave as your body registers the horrors in your subconscious. 

There was never any lighting. That’s just what the pain feels like.

The muscles in your shoulders and neck tense from your panicked state as your heart struggles to keep a normal rhythm. You yank the blanket off, feeling weak from fear and the onset of tremors. Your whole body gives up on itself as you sob through broken exhales. Your legs have gone cold, lungs shrinking inch by inch with every passing minute. 

You crawl to the edge of your bed, wanting to just get out and leave—the blanket. The bed. The room. Most of all, you want to escape your own mind.

You sink onto the floor when a foot touches the ground, and you realize walking isn’t in the cards right now. You’re shaking too badly to be able to physically move. All your strength is gone, robbed by your memories.

Balmy tears paint your face in determination, making sure no part of you is left untouched by this spell.

You screw your eyes shut, tears still slipping out with ease anyway. Leaning your back against the bed-frame, you curl into yourself and wrap your arms around your knees on the chilled hardwood.

You try to focus on your breathing to at least slow your heart down to a pace that doesn’t hurt.

Wounded cries rip their way out of you, interrupting the breaths you try to steady. A hand touches your arm and you yelp like an injured dog, flailing at the contact as your arms swing out from around your knees in shock.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s me.” Strong hands quickly wrap around each of your wrists to stop your arms from thrashing.

You try to focus your eyes, blurred and stinging from tears, on the person kneeling closely in front of you.

“L-Logan…” you whisper, balling your fists to try and expel the shakes.

He looks like someone who shouldn’t be able to be concerned about another person, yet the look on his face scares you. Brows pinched together in worry, eyes frantic, lips parted from heavy breaths. All because of you.

“It’s just me,” he hushes your cries. His thumbs stroke the undersides of your wrists tenderly, no doubt feeling your racing pulse. 

You feel disoriented. “Wh…how…” 

“I heard you,” he explains, watching you process everything. He drops your wrists when some recognition passes over your face.

“What do you need?” He follows your gaze as it wanders around the room, trying to keep you from spiralling further.

You look at him for a moment. He’s got his white tank-top on, the black sweats, and an intense need to help you written all over him. Fresh tears burn your cheeks as you come back into reality.

“I want it to fucking stop,” you weep, head falling into your hands in shame.

You don’t want him to see you like this, even though it’s a commonality between you two. It’s too intimate. You’d take him seeing you blackout drunk everyday of the year over this.

Then you do remember that it has stopped. Each time in Logan’s bed. There was silence. Peace. For the whole night. For both of you.

“Tell me what you need,” he says firmly, angling his head down to keep your eyes on him, desperately wanting an answer.

“You.” You suck in an agonizing breath to try and collect yourself.

He doesn’t flinch like you expect him to. If anything, his eyes become more pensive, clearly considering something. Then he shakes his head in wariness.

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of here,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper. The only sound echoing in the room is your wobbly breathes, your body jerking with each one as you enter the aftermath and begin to go slack.

An arm slides behind your back, his hand grabbing ahold of your side while he pulls your legs over his other arm, picking you up off the floor.

He cradles you against him just like he did when you were drunk, carrying you out of your room.

He left your door open when he came in, and you hope no students heard or saw anything. He tilts to grab the doorknob, shutting it without a sound.

You wipe and rub at your eyes as Logan takes a few steps down the hall, quickly getting to where he needs to go when you feel him lean for his doorknob.

You’re sure a few rogue, leftover tears fall onto his shirt before he manages to sit on his bed lightly, you still curled tightly in his arms. 

His hand pushes on your back for you to sit upright on his lap. “Face me,” he encourages, holding onto your sides as you twist around, bending your legs to slide over his thighs and straddle him loosely. 

You look down at him, he looks up at you, feeling the quivers in your body dissipate as you melt further into his lap. A fondness crosses over both of your tired faces. He rests his arms over your thighs, warm hands linking behind your back as you do the same around his neck. 

It’s nothing provocative or seductive. All you can feel is the care and concern rolling off of him in suffocating waves. He wants you to feel safe, and if that means overrunning your senses with his presence, then that’s what he’ll do.

“Got anything to say?” He murmurs, the fallen strands of hair around the edges of his forehead bristle with each move of his head. The rest of his hair fails to fully resemble the cat-like ears he had earlier in the day. 

What does he want to hear? 

You let your head hang a little, your nose almost brushing his. “I have nothing to say,” you assert, fidgeting with the chain of his dog tag at the nape of his neck. 

You don’t necessarily feel embarrassed about him seeing you in such a helpless state, but you don’t want to simply unload your shit on him. So, in turn, you have nothing to say.

“Bullshit.” He almost rolls his eyes. There’s no real threat of him forcing you to say anything behind it. He won’t pry, but he doesn’t believe you.

An offended look overcomes your face, and you almost pull away. You don’t want to feel the humiliation of elaborating on just why exactly you said you needed him in this moment out of everything else. 

“I just…” You roll your lips together in thought, measuring the words you could say but won’t. “Want to sleep. Here,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna go back.” You deflate in his arms, voice wobbly. 

It’s already who-knows what time, and you need to pacify your wired nervous system; Logan simply holding you has already helped with that more than you want to admit.

His mouth quirks up briefly at that. “What happened to not wanting to make that a habit?” His eyes soften as his arms retract from around your sides, letting you slip easily onto his bed from his lap in a moment of calm, or relief.

Habit, if not resisted, soon becomes necessity.

“Special circumstances,” you reason, already pulling the blanket over you while he keeps his place at the edge of the bed, observing you with amusement.

“Seems like you get into those a lot,” he notes, pushing himself off the mattress.

He steps around to the other side—his designated spot—and slips the tank-top off, letting it drop to the floor. You’re not trying to be a freak, but you watch the whole thing.

The flex of his arms and shoulders are out of your mind as fast as they entered as you watch him hook his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats and pull them downright in front of you, not even turning around or to the side to try and conceal himself.

Your eyes widen, then you reel in your thoughts before they get lost at sea. No one who is sane fucking sleeps in sweatpants. Duh.

But didn’t he the last two times? It’s hard for you to remember, but you’d certainly recall if you were face-to-face with the outline of his di—

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.” Logan pulls his lips together, interrupting your thoughts. You try to not eyeball the bulge too hard, but it basically looked at you first. 

The snug briefs do little to hide anything. They hide nothing, actually.

You almost scoff, but the playfulness in his tone tells you he couldn’t give a shit. He probably likes it anyway. From what you know, he definitely does.

“Oh, yeah, like you’ve ever cared about modesty,” you throw back, averting your gaze to the ceiling anyway.

It’s not that he runs around the mansion naked, but he definitely isn’t shy about what he looks like or against showing some skin. You’ve seen and heard enough over the past few months.

You hear a stifled chuckle as he joins you under the blanket without a retort. He knows you’re right. He’s just glad you’re a little lively and alert.

“Will you be okay for the rest of the night?” He brings both hands behind his head on the pillow, propping himself up a little.

“I should be fine,” you say confidently. “The challenge will be getting back to sleep.” You laugh in exasperation. 

It’s always hard to calm down and get back to a place of tranquility after everything has settled with your mind. You’re pumped full of adrenaline and there’s not much that can curb something that persistent flowing through your body.

You haven’t found anything to help with it. Yet. 

“There’s not many people that’ll understand what you go through,” he starts, voice rough with fatigue. “But I do.”

You look to him, sliding an arm under your pillow as you turn on your side. “How do you…help it.” You’re not sure if you phrased that right. It feels crude to reduce something so complex to the likes of a common cold that has an array of over-the-counter solutions. 

“You don’t. It just has to run its course.” He looks to you, wanting to see your reaction. 

It wasn’t meant to be hurtful or insensitive, but he’s not going to lie to you and say that things can only get better and that the worst is over. Especially for mutants, that’s not always true.

Although you don’t know what Logan lives with every day and sleeps with every night, you do know that his capacity for empathy is still intact. Here you are in his bed after all, seeing and indulging in a side of him that many never will. 

You sigh lightly. “We’re quite the pair.” 

A comfortable half-smirk slips over his lips. “I think we’re just fucked up insomniacs,” he suggests with a breathy exhale that’s close enough to a laugh.

You wish you could slide a thumb over the pulse in his wrist and see what’s haunting him, just to understand what happened to the Wolverine, but you’ve learned that doing so usually isn’t worth the price you’ll pay after. If what’s in his head is horrific enough to cause him to go through a couple mattresses a month, then it won’t do you any good either.

“I sleep pretty good with you,” you offer, seeing how he raises a brow in doubt almost instantly.

He sleeps well with you, too. It kind of rattled him when he noticed a pattern of uninterrupted nights and you being by his side. Not a single mattress ruined on those nights.

“Try not to knee me in the stomach tonight,” he deflects with ease. He takes his hands out from behind his head, sliding his left arm under the pillow as he turns over onto his side and closes his eyes. Facing you.

You mentally smack yourself. Multiple times. You didn’t think you drifted that much when you slept. 

“No promises,” you mutter. You catch a small shake of his head before you let yourself join him in unconsciousness as you mirror each others lonely bodies.

━━━━

Your eyes ache—to open, to move, to touch. Enough crying will do that to you.Your eyelids are heavy, but there’s something else weighing down on you. 

A tired groan crawls from your throat as you try to place yourself for a moment. The morning sun is just beginning to shine too brightly for your liking, and you squish your face deeper into the pillow.

You’re still tipsy with sleep, lying flat on your stomach, but there’s something dense and hot resting over your back. 

You prop yourself up on your forearms, giving yourself a minute to wake up. You twist your hips around to sit yourself up, feeling the thing on your back slide down to your waist. 

The blanket pools around your hips, and you feel a hand reflexively squeeze over the meat of your hip in disapproval of your moving. Something in you clenches at the sensation of something invading the area with ease. A spot reserved for intimacy.

Your head quirks to your right, seeing Logan on his stomach with his right arm thrown over your midsection. 

You blink in surprise, staring at his sleeping body. His hair is sticking up every which way, his head half-off the pillow, his side of the blanket not even covering the curve of his ass anymore. It’s endearing to see the Wolverine in such a normal, human state.

But if someone were to walk in, it would look like you two spent the whole night fucking. A lot. That wakes you up a little more.

You peek over at the nightstand behind him and see the time blinking on his watch. It’s already 8 a.m. 

You rest a hand over his shoulder to gently guide his arm off of you, but you stop yourself. Instead, you lightly trace your fingers down his shoulders and upper back a couple times, occasionally scratching softly over the ridges of muscle.

A shiver quickly rolls through his upper body, but your touch doesn’t fully wake him. He knows it’s just you.

It’s the least you can do for him as a thanks for recovering your broken body from the floor of your room and bringing you here when he didn’t necessarily have to.

It almost feels like instinct to offer comforting gestures to him. There’s something inside you that just pulls to him. You want to be the one that can give him comfort and help him put himself back together. 

You want to be the only one.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

There’s a shadow that’s been following you around the mansion. 

As soon as you stepped out of Logan’s room that morning a few days ago, it started. 

This shadow likes to be nosy about what you’re doing. This shadow likes to be in your space. This shadow wants to be in your space. And he is.

No one has seen Logan out around the mansion this much, including you, and that’s how you noticed he’s basically been attached to your hip ever since he decided your back was a comfortable armrest. 

He’s always just there, like a stray cat begging for food or affection. There to entertain you, banter with you, indulge you, in any way he can, including now as you trail back inside the mansion well behind Storm from an evening walkabout in the garden.

“No smoking in the courtyard,” you sing as you pass him carelessly, not even offering a glance to him in interest. 

You like playing this game. Whatever it is. Constantly poking and prodding at each other to see what you can do to get the other to break in some way, no matter how slight. 

Your heart flutters and flips every time; maybe from the thrill of it all, maybe from the arousal you get from the tension. You hope he feels everything, too.

He turns his head to watch you cross into the entryway. “Blow me,” he throws back playfully through a thick puff of smoke, leaning against the brick wall with a cigar pinched between two fingers.

You suppress a chuckle, keeping your unwavering pace. “Yeah, you wish!” You yell over your shoulder. You know he hears you. He wouldn’t let himself miss it.

Logan smirks and shakes his head in amusement, always impressed with your quick rebuttals that occasionally tent his jeans. He takes one last drag out of spite before following your footsteps inside. 

You have become, by definition, friends…in a way. Even if you sorely cross the line into other territory more often than not. Sexual innuendos and friendly flirting can only go on for so long before the underlying intentions and meaning reflects real desires. 

It’s evolved into more than just borrowing his bed a couple times or helping each other out. It’s surpassed the fear of whatever habit you were afraid of forming from doing so. It’s become a dependency to get that adrenaline high from simply riling each other up.

You have an assumption that if you were to end up in Logan’s bed again, somehow, there will be a point of no return that you’ll be faced with. There aren’t many more excuses that can be used for explaining to yourselves why you’re together in bed before you have to recognize the truth.

That platonic line is being stretched too thin, and you’re not sure how much farther it can go.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“How’ve you been sleeping?”

“Fine. You?”

“Could be better.” Logan hides his smirk, but you can hear it in his voice.

You narrow your eyes skeptically as he fishes around in the fruit bowl sitting in the middle of the kitchen island.

“How so?” You ask. Your legs swing leisurely as you sit upon the chilled countertop on his left, idly waiting for Storm to show up and go with you to training.

A smug, tight-lipped grin flashes across his face, a green apple rolling around in his palms before he puts it back. “You could be there,” he provokes, his eyes bright.

It’s your turn to raise a brow at him, but you can’t stop your smile. “Oh?”

He turns to you, tenderly grabbing the tops of your thighs and parting them slightly to stand between your legs.

This isn’t the first time he’s done this, and he knows it rouses you in all the right ways. But, neither of you will do anything about it. Not even a brief kiss.

“Come on,” he goads, planting his hands down next to your hips, bringing himself in closer as he bears his weight on his arms. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” He sways his head side to side to emphasize his point.

Fuck. That’s good. 

That may be exactly what you did for him, but it’s now a figure of speech for something else entirely. It’s almost impossible to argue against either way, as if you want to. This is what you’ve been patiently waiting for. 

You put your hands over his as you lean back a little to put some distance between you. “How sweet,” you hum.

His eyes flick from yours to your lips one too many times before you continue. “You start to miss me?” You tease as you lean forward again, echoing what he said to you the night your window got smashed in.

“Smart-ass,” he mutters as you laugh quietly. The tips of your noses barely graze each other as he steps in closer again. You’re almost at the same height like this. 

“Save me the left side,” you advise, bringing your hands to his shoulders as you fondle his white t-shirt between your fingers. You’re so close, and he’s already so warm against you just like this.

“Always do.”

━━━━

You want to rip your heart out of your chest from how hard it’s pounding against your ribs. It’s almost throwing you forward with each heavy beat.

Three resounding knocks fill the hallway as you shuffle on your feet, waiting for Logan to open the door.

It feels like you’re doing something bad. Something parents would warn their kids against. Something greatly envied.

Everything inside you feels on fire. Your thoughts, desires, anxiety, all jumbling together into one distorted state of mind and body.

“Ah, welcome back.” His sarcastic tone makes your face go hot. A satisfied smirk crosses his lips as he runs a hand through his shaggy, unstyled hair. 

You shake your head, pursing your lips. “Knock it off.” You gently shove at his bare chest. Misbehaviour already. But are you really surprised?

Logan grabs your wrist, delicately guiding you into his room. “You enjoy it,” he says lowly, quickly shutting the door as soon as you’re in. 

“Maybe,” you hum in response, pulling away from his grasp and seeking out your side of the bed. Logan follows closely behind, giving your ass a light smack in encouragement before he cuts away to his side while you jolt in shock, a stunned look on your face as you whip your head around to him across the bed.

“Oh, really?” You scoff. He’s biting back a smile, not moving until he knows what you’ll do next. He’s never gone that far before.

“I’m sorry, that was rude—how can I make it up to you?” He almost chokes on a laugh, pulling his dog tag back and forth along the chain while he considers you.

This Logan is very different from the one you were met with the first night he let you in his space. This one is attentive and exuberant, yet he hasn’t given you much up until this point right now. You’ve gotten way too comfortable with him without even doing anything to you. 

In this moment, he isn’t the brooding, animalistic Wolverine many see him as. He’s just Logan—for you. 

You watch him carefully, easing yourself onto the bed. “Get in the fucking bed,” you slap his side of the mattress with a thump of your palm. “And do what you promised earlier,” you stare pointedly at him.

He owes you that “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” favour he decided to pull out to get you here. 

“Mm, alright, alright,” he surrenders, a look of amusement still on his face as he kneels onto the bed. “I thought of a pretty good idea for it,” he says softly, crawling to sit next to you on top of the blanket as the bed-frame creaks with the added weight.

Your shoulders almost brush against each other. You shift, turning your body fully toward him. “Oh? Wh—woah!”

You squeal when his strong hands latch onto your sides, lifting you just enough to pull you over his legs to plant you on his lap. He leans back against the headboard, pulling on your thighs so you straddle him tightly. 

He looks devilish when you catch his gaze again, and you know what’s coming. What’s been coming. Your hands find their places on his shoulders, warm and taut, as his hands hold your hips. 

The bond between you will culminate tonight. It will be wrapped in a blanket and trapped between two alike souls that lie heart-to-heart in the dead of night. It will be perpetual.

The heat of him between your legs makes you restless. It’s just you, him, and the darkness in the quiet room you’ve become too familiar with.

“Logan…” you trail off bashfully when you feel something firm through his sweats poke against your cunt. It clearly doesn’t take much to excite him.

“Hm?” He takes you in for a split second, hands running from your hips up to your chest leisurely with a sharp inhale, not yet completely bothered by the fact that you have a shirt on. 

You suck in a shaky breath when your hips accidentally shift over his bulge from his hands pushing and pulling over you.

“What’s the idea?” Your voice wavers.

You know what it is. He knows that. You just want to hear him say it and fill the silence.

“Something I’ve wanted for a while,” he murmurs, eyes hyper-focused on you. 

Your fingers dance their way to the sides of his neck, brushing along the supple skin while you feel muscles and tendons flex with every slight movement. You subtly press the pad of your index finger against the pulse point right under his jaw, just to ground yourself and truly feel that Logan is there in front of you. 

His pulse is steady but hard, much like yours, and the prickle of energy festering against the finger almost makes it go numb from not accepting it into your body. 

“Show me, then.” You smile sweetly, leaning in closer while you tilt his head up with the hand under his jaw, your finger slipping from his pulse and caressing over the dense, coarse hair along his cheek.

Your noses bump while your lips part in anticipation. His eyes flutter as he falls into you and frantically claims your mouth in an unbreakable kiss.

The first kiss. Nothing could tear him from you in this moment.

Your hands cradle his cheeks, keeping him from pulling off too far. His hands scratch and paw at your back, trying to find a way to somehow get you closer against him.

It’s all a little messy, your lips mostly just mashing together without any rhyme or reason, but neither of you care. You only care about how electrifying it feels to finally have Logan and feel how perfectly connected you are together after all these nights. You go together like a key and its lock.

“Logan,” you pant when his mouth releases yours for a fraction of a breath. The seconds between kisses dwindle the more you take from each other.

Your thighs tense as he pulls half an inch away just to reconnect more crazed as his lips lock over your bottom one aimlessly. Something deep inside you trembles and aches.

He grunts, accidentally sucking the tip of your tongue briefly before slotting his lips back over yours in an apology. “Hold on,” he mumbles in a rush against your parted lips. He knows what you’re asking—or trying to ask. He snakes an arm up along your spine and wraps the other around your waist.

Then the world is tilting.

He drops you on your back on the bed from his lap, hovering over you as he distracts you with harsh but pleasing kisses and wet bites along your neck, settling his hips heavily between your thighs. You squirm and feel how bolts of arousal are making your cunt pulse involuntarily. 

Logan groans. “Fuck—I can smell it. I smell you.” He slowly grinds his hips into yours almost reflexively. He squeezes his eyes shut, and you tip your chin up to press a chaste kiss to his slick lips. 

“Taste…if you want to,” you propose, lightly scratching up and down his shoulders and arms, only enough to leave faint red lines for a couple seconds.

Logan’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head before he gives it a small shake, a conflicted look overtaking his face. “Of course I fucking want to, but—fuck—next time. I promise.” He swallows whatever you were going to say with a deep kiss that has you nearly shaking when he sucks on your bottom lip. 

“Let’s just take things easy,” he says roughly, bearing his weight on his left arm while he tries to get your sleep shorts and underwear off.

A promise of a next time makes your brain go fuzzy like static.

“I’ll hold you to it, then,” you resolve, lifting your hips as much as you can for him to lean back and pull away to wrestle your clothes the rest of the way down your legs, discarding them just as quickly.

“I hope you will,” he breathes through a small laugh as he shuffles on his knees. He doesn’t want to completely overwhelm you and scare you off, he just wants to enjoy you in a simple way that won’t entirely ruin you for tomorrow.

He doesn’t know what you can or cannot handle, but he’s going to find out.

The fresh air in the room brushes cooly against your wet cunt. It’s a nice contrast to how fiery your whole body feels, but Logan feels even warmer than you somehow. Maybe wolverine’s just run hot.

His sweats have ridden down his hips from his desperate grinding against you, and the dangerous cut of his v-line grows more and more narrow as the waistband teases the reveal of what’s underneath.

You watch him—palming his dick once as your knees sway side-to-side in waiting. His thumbs hook under the stretchy fabric, working what remains of his clothes down his sturdy thighs.

“It’s rude to stare.” He pops a brow, a smug, arrogant grin quirking his lips.

You push yourself to sit up, considerably shorter than him in this position as he stands on his knees, and walk two fingers up his toned stomach to his chest, avoiding the hard cock between you. 

He looks at you with curiosity until your hand grabs his dog tag in a fist, pulling it towards you. “Then stop showing me your dick,” you say as he leans in to your pulling a little to not have the chain break away.

You knew the night Logan dropped his pants in front of you and let you eye-up his bulge would come back to haunt you. But it’s alluring. Big. Curves a little to the left, barely noticeable. A respectable amount of hair decorates the space between his bellybutton and the base of his cock.

He gives in to the tension on the chain, falling back to the mattress with you and trapping you between his arms as his cock rests heavy on your clit.

“How about I find somewhere to put it?” His smile pushes a whole new wave of arousal from you.

“It would be a damn shame if you didn’t,” you say against his mouth, giving your hips a roll just to tease him before hugging his waist tightly with your knees.

“Good.” He gives you a strong kiss with a small grunt, running his hands over your sides under your shirt. The movement pushes it up, up, up, until you have no choice but to stretch your arms out above you and let him slide it off between more thoughtless kisses, leaving you entirely bare.

He lets you breathe for a moment, dipping his head to bite and suck marks along your collarbones messily. You squeeze around his hips harder, trying to get him to give you something other than his scratchy cheeks rubbing against your skin and the chilled steel of the dog tag dragging over your chest.

The tip of his cock falls and catches over your clit when he moves lower, licking and sucking over your chest like a starved animal finding food for the first time in a week. You gasp from the mixed sensations.

“C’mon, kitty cat, you can do all this while inside m-me,” you say breathily, fingers digging into his shoulders to stop yourself from trembling too much. 

Logan bites over a nipple before pulling himself back up to look at you. “Is that a promise?” He says lowly, that stupid smirk gracing his face again.

“Try it and find out,” you demand, enjoying the sting of the deeper bites blooming on your torso.

He purses his lips, shifting his weight back onto his knees to grab ahold of his cock to angle and guide it in.

“Hm, guess no lube is needed,” he muses when he gets a look at your cunt, sparing you a glance through his lashes.

You roll your eyes shut when your whole body lights up red-hot. “Jesus fucking Christ, Logan,” you slap a hand over your eyes as you grimace. You don’t want to be that aware of your naked self right now.

He suppresses whatever expression was about to cross his face when his cock notches itself between your soaked folds, teasing your hole with the blunt tip. His brows pinch together and you forget the embarrassment from his crude remark.

But he leaves his cock like that, on the precipice of sliding the rest of the way in with a snap of his hips. Instead, he carefully uncurls his upper body to crawl his way back up to you while holding his hips deathly still.

“Alright, stay with me,” he whispers against your neck when you moan, pressing a tender kiss to your rabid pulse in reassurance. 

“O-okay,” you sigh, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots while the other squeezes around his arm as best as it can. You’re not even really sure what he’s saying.  

He kisses up your cheek and over to your lips again. You try to keep up with his quick mouth, licking and sucking whatever part you can get ahold of, but you’ve become lost in the feeling of him all over you. 

He’s in your mouth, on your chest, against your stomach, nudging your cunt. Everywhere.

He slips his tongue over yours, securing your lips together at the same time he pushes his cock in halfway. Now you understand what he was saying. 

The lightheadedness from being filled, even just a bit, almost makes you lose yourself. The stretch makes your stomach drop, your legs shake, and your mouth fall open with a whine. 

“A-ah—fuck. Fuck, Logan,” you whimper, fisting his hair with both hands to stop yourself from falling apart.

He groans, either at the grip you have on his hair or how good your cunt feels already, and runs a hand up your left thigh in comfort as you squeeze around his hips tighter to draw him in. 

“Just a bit more,” he soothes, trying to resist the urge to slide into you in one fell swoop. It would be so easy to just let his hips fall into yours and fill your cunt.

Another heated kiss, another few inches. He works his cock into you the rest of the way with ease. You guess the lube thing wasn’t really a joke. His hungry, needy kisses may have also helped with that.

You choke on your gasps, not wanting to get too loud, and Logan does the same. He tries to muffle both of your moans with his mouth, attempting to form complete kisses, but it just turns into you panting against each other as he finally bottoms out, hitting his end. 

Your legs relax around his waist as he deftly rocks his hips in small thrusts to get you familiar with his size, his small grunts filling the air each time you swallow him whole.

You let out a deep breath, dropping your hands back to his tense shoulders. He lines your jaw with soft kisses, fisting the blanket in his hands beside your head.

“Fuck. Already feels too good,” he moans, pressing into you harder and unintentionally rubbing himself over your tender clit.

You smile, squirming while he works down your neck again. “Best of luck,” you huff, amused at the fact that he might not last as long as he wants to.

He brings his face back to yours, a completely blissful expression controlling his features, but there’s still some mischief in his hazel eyes. “Oh? Yeah?”

You hold each other’s gaze, both equally dazed and overwhelmed, and he draws his hips back and pushes into your wet cunt with a complete, strong thrust. The sound of his pelvis hitting against the backs of your thighs makes him laugh in pleasure and satisfaction when you instantly roll your eyes and head back.

Your cunt quivers, gripping him tight, and then it’s Logan’s turn to lose composure. He drops his head to your chest, managing a few deep breaths as he slowly pulls out halfway just to push right back into you, over and over. 

It’s a pace that isn’t quite pure, mindless fucking, but it’s also not somewhere near earnest love-making. It’s something that feels specifically curated for you. Something that feels measured and sincere. 

The strength of his thighs hitting against yours pushes you up the mattress a few inches, and you don’t know whether to gasp or moan. He reaches somewhere deep inside you, and you know he can feel that, too.

A helpless groan slips through Logan’s lips. “Where have you fucking been, huh?” He muses through shaky breaths, the determined plunge of his cock hitting something that makes your muscles tense throughout your body. 

Your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, keeping him close. “Two doors down,” you giggle, understanding that’s not quite what he was asking.

“Fucking smart-ass,” he grumbles, silencing any further rebuttals with a wet kiss. You don’t think you could manage much more of a conversation even if you wanted to.

The silence is quickly filled with obscene sounds that only seem to leave you wetter and Logan throbbing. You can hear your bodies connecting through your gasping for air and his choked moans, and you can feel the mess you’re making all over him. It’s smeared along the inside of your thighs from how deep he’s been hitting. The squelching only seems to make him fuck into you harder.

Something inside you starts to grow tight and wind up in your core, making you repeatedly clench around him while his cock strokes all the right spots inside you as he makes sure he’s fucking himself in to the base. He doesn’t deprive you of anything. 

He drops his head to your neck, wedging his face in to latch onto the spot right where your neck starts to slope into your shoulder. The dense muscle there gives him something to basically chew on, sinking his teeth in as deep as he can without drawing blood.

“H-hah, Logan,” you whine, tilting your head into the side of his and squirming from the pleasant sting.

You feel his arm move beside you, then you hear the sound of tearing fabric as he gives a particularly brutal snap of his hips, followed by a deep groan against your skin.

You can barely form any thoughts, but you can guess what just happened. If he pulled his hand back, three long, slim holes would probably be where his knuckles are right now.

“Fu-uck, Logan, you just got t-this mattress,” you laugh a little, your words choppy from how hard he’s driving into you now.

He draws back from your neck, seeing your half-lidded eyes trying to focus on him. “Can’t always control it,” he reasons, giving you two short, fleeting kisses as you hear his claws retract from the innocent mattress. 

You see the double-edged sword. You can guess that that’s the same explanation he would probably use for the nightmares. It can go either way, and now you’ve seen both sides.

“It’s okay,” you say in a hushed tone. You cradle his face, and he rests his forehead against yours. “Keep going…keep going,” you coax, face scrunching from your nearing orgasm.

You can feel it in your toes, your stomach, your shoulders—you’re tightening up everywhere, and he can undoubtedly feel it in your cunt as you pulse around him. It grips him just right for a couple seconds before relaxing completely and leaving him to chase for more.

“Keep squeezing me like that and you’ll get whatever you want,” he offers, fighting to maintain his steady pace for both your sakes.

You almost whine, knowing whatever your body does is beyond your control at this point.

“Just—inside.” You can’t even string together a full sentence anymore, but the urgency and stress on the last word makes Logan’s ears perk up.

He presses a soft kiss to your clammy forehead in acknowledgment, the muscles in his arms straining and flexing as he grabs ahold of his own orgasm after a particularly inviting flutter of your walls.

You’re both walking the line, teetering on the edge of utter euphoria, and you know nothing will be the same after. You don’t want it to be. You hope it isn’t.

He reaches an arm back, sliding his hand up your thigh again and slotting it behind the bend in your knee. He pushes forward—only slightly—bringing your leg closer to your stomach to stretch you open for him.

His cock brushes over something new. Something that makes you bite your tongue. The angle lets him fit perfectly against you, not hindered by the flesh of your thigh stopping his hips.

You want to cry from how good it all feels. You want to be suspended in this feeling forever. You want Logan to—

“Focus, baby. Focus on me,” he coos, bringing you back to reality. He holds the side of your head with his other hand affectionately. “Come on…come on, I know you’re almost there,” he encourages with a quick kiss that goes straight to your stomach.

The burn in your thigh from the stretch can’t overpower the sparks of your orgasm, and Logan just fanned the flames with a few little words.

You come with a broken sob, convulsing around his cock while he fucks you through it, submitting to his own orgasm only seconds after with deep, shaky breaths as he empties himself inside your cunt.

He doesn’t pull out or pull away. He relaxes on top of you, sweaty and sticky with cum, and he places the barest whisper of a kiss on your chin, your parted lips, your nose, and then your forehead. 

Your ears ring from your orgasm, eyes still slightly out of focus. Your body trembles from your muscles finally releasing the tension they’ve been caught up in. 

You desperately suck in air, trying to calm your pounding heart, and you just lie there and let Logan walk your body through a cool-down. Soft kisses. Soft touches. Soft looks. Between sweat, cum, and whatever else.

He rocks a little on his knees, weak from his release, and carefully pulls out of you with a huff as he caresses your stomach and thighs appreciatively to wind you down. You get a good look at him. Not a scratch. His hair tells a story, though—one where he’s completely possessed by bliss. 

You probably look like you survived an animal attack.

“Are we even?” Logan says through a kiss against your stomach.

A mindless laugh crawls from your throat, caught up in the feeling of his hands rubbing circles over your hips. “I think I still owe you,” you argue, resting your hands over his as they travel smoothly up your side.

You’ll find a way to make everything up to him. Including the sex. The scale is now tipping to his side too much. All the nights spent in his bed, what he’s done for you, what you’ve done for each other, may just be immeasurable, but that won’t stop you from finding a way to get him back for it all. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he mumbles, snaking back up your body and pressing himself against you. Face-to-face. Chest-to-chest. 

You mindfully run your hands over the sides of his head, trying to tame his hair and style it back to how it was earlier in the night. It doesn’t work. He enjoys it anyway.

“Do I have the pleasure of staying here tonight?” You ask rhetorically, enjoying the warmth of him on top of you against the brisk air creeping in from the cracked window.

Logan blinks. “You can stay every night.” 

A loving smile springs over your face. This may be the beginning of the end to your troubles and worries.  

You—maybe foolishly—trust him. You trust that he won’t accidentally bury his claws in your side during the night, but you’ve had impressive luck with that up until this point. The only thing you can do now is continue to push that luck.

Healing isn’t linear, and you can’t expect someone to fix you, but everyone finds their thing at some point. 

You slither your hand down to his neck, index finger grazing over his pulse again. You feel the energy biting against you.

Your lips graze over his, tempting him to give you a slow, deep kiss. “Can I have the left side?” Rhetorical, again.

Logan chuckles against your mouth. “Always.”

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

5 DAYS IN HEAVEN

Summary: Since Wade is going away on a mission, he asks you to take care of his roommate. At first you will refuse, but in the end you will be so freaking grateful.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, masturbation, breast play, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected sex (p i v), little blood, reader is smaller than Logan

A/n: This is so freaking long I'm so terribly sorry I got really into it, so I am sorry if there will be some grammar mistakes or some parts that won't make sense, I'm not a native English speaker, anyways enjoy <3

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"Fuck no Wade!" you shut your eyes as you frustrated shouted. "Please I need this!" he kept trying to convince you, reaching for your hands but you flinched. "I'm not going to make you a fucking housewife, have you lost your mind?" you asked, beginning to doubt about men's IQ at this point. “Not for me but for Logan” he corrected you as if that made a difference. “It's literally the same” you turned your back as you walked into the kitchen, Wade following you like a dog on a leash. "Please, I'll do anything!"

You stopped for a second. You've never heard Wade so desperate and you've known him for five years and as a neighbor, you know his behavior very well, this is not like him at all.

"Why do you care about him so much?" you asked, leaning against the fridge with your hands tied across your chest. "He's my bestfriend! I love him-" "Okay now it's getting weird" you turned around again as you poured some water into a clean glass.

"Please I can't lose him because he starved, I need my fuckbuddy-" you almost choked as you heard Wade's words while drinking. Never drink while Wade is talking, noted. "And why can't you just take him with you?" you turn around and furrow your eyebrows. "It's not that easy pumpkin" you rolled your eyes but didn't give up to find some other way.

"So he would order fast food, what's the matter?" "Do I look like I have enough money to feed a giant who eats like a beast?" you sigh in annoyance as you slowly realize that there probably isn't other way to solve this. "Wade, I can't cook for him-" "Why not? You're the best cook I know! Please, just for five days, no more!"

When you saw his beggar eyes, you had no choice. You sigh loudly and close your eyes as your head drops. "Fine." You growl and immediately regretted your decision as Wade grabbed you and spun you around at breakneck speed. "Jesus alright stop I'm gonna throw up!" Wade placed you back on the floor and you struggled to keep your balance. But when your vision was no longer blurry, Wade’s excited face warmed your heart. "Thank you so much! I owe you I swear!"

He gave you one last kiss on the cheek before he left your apartment. You could hear him excitedly screaming in the hallway, even on his way to his apartment. You chuckle and shake your head, he is really a child stuck in a 30 year old body.

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You don't really know Logan. You know that he moved in with Wade and they started living together, but you never found out why. Besides, you didn't even have much interaction with him, mainly because of his expression.

He still looks angry and sour, whenever you see him in the hall, you try to avoid him, because his stern expression sent you dread and goosebumps all over your body. Unlike Wade, he didn't look like a friendly neighbor who comes to visit you when he needs sugar or flour.

Rather, he looked exactly like the neighbor who just complains about you every chance he gets. You were a little afraid of the deal, going to cook for him and who knows what will happen if he doesn't like it. What if he spits on you? Or do anything worse?

You were only comforted by the thought that you would only go to him a few times a day and then you could lock yourself away and be safe. Your thoughts about Logan and the whole deal were interrupted by an aggressive pounding on your door. You immediately knew who it was.

You sighed when you saw Wade in the doorway, rudely barging into your apartment without asking. But you're used to it.

"So when are you moving in?" your eyes almost fell out of their sockets when Wade threw this question at you without hesitation. "What are you talking about?!" you tried not to think the worst, unfortunately it was the worst. "Well, you'll be living in my apartment during my absence-" you pointed index finger at him and shook him. "No no no, you didn't say that!" Wade stopped. "I thought it was obvious..."

Your heart was beating a hundred and six and your blood was at boiling point. "Wade! I'm not living with that psychopath!" you lost your shit and started screaming at him. Wade was still calm. “He's not that bad” you were shocked at his words and how easily he was letting them out of his mouth.

"Wade! What if he kills me?" Wade rolled his eyes and shook his head. "He won't kill you, don't worry, if something happens stab him...even though it probably wouldn't help" you started being red from how angry you were. "Why can't I stay here?" you finally asked him the main question.

"You know, I'm afraid something will happen to him, I want you to watch over him" you just started to mock Wade’s patheticness. Oh you are so done. "No….no! I am not gonna do it" "Ah come on sweetheart" Wade grabbed your hands so tightly that you couldn't even break free from his grip.

"I swear I'll give you anything for this, I'll be grateful to you for the rest of my life...just 5 days, please" even as you fought with every nerve and muscle in your body to refuse, his convincing eyes got you again and you let out an annoyed breath.

Wade immediately understood that you agreed and pulled you into a tight hug. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou" he kept thanking you and you started seeing stars for a moment from his tight grip. Again and again you regretted your decision and wanted to get a fake passport, change your identity and fly far away. Unfortunately, this option will not work.

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First day

The time had come for you to introduce yourself to Logan and move in. You only had a small bag over your shoulders, where were your clothes, hygiene items and necessary things. Even if you miss something, you can always go to the apartment next door, aka your home.

“Look, I'm just warning you, Logan can be a little…rude sometimes” Wade told you and you nodded. You already deduced that yourself from his face expressions. Even so, you wanted to be nice and make an impression on him, maybe he'll be a little softer if he sees you smiling.

“Alright, here we go” Wade looked even more nervous than you. When he grabbed the doorknob and went inside, Logan was nowhere to be found. You slowly followed Wade, looking for the grumpy big guy. But suddenly the door to the room opened and the famous, rude Logan came out.

He was wearing a brown shirt and jeans with a belt, now that you had a chance to get a good look at him, he didn't look so bad. "Logan!" Wade squealed excitedly while Logan still had a stern look on his face.

When his eyes landed on you, he didn't move a single muscle, unlike you. You were sweating, your smile was twitching but you tried to keep your cool. "Who is that?" he pointed at you and slowly walked closer. "So glad you're asking, Logan, this is your temporary housewife"

You were quiet but still smiling, while holding your hand for a shake. Logan rolled his eyes and moved his head from your sight in annoyance. That's a nice welcoming. "I don't fucking need her" you would be lying if those words didn't touch you a little, but Wade warned you, so you were at least half prepared for it.

You slowly dropped your hand back to your body and looked at Wade in confusion. "Well if he doesn't need me, I can go-" "No! Stay!" he grabbed your shoulder and looked angrily at Logan. "We already talk about this, be nice" he hissed through his clenched teeth and Logan just sighed. He looked back at you, that annoyed look still on his face. He was literally screaming through that face that he wants to kick you out and he really doesn't want you here. Your smile slowly dropped and you started overthinking, how the following 5 days would look like, with this grumpy rude man.

"Good kitty" Wade complimented Logan who growled back at him. "Well, the kitchen is over there, I'll show you your room and then I'll have to go, the mission awaits!" Wade got behind you and pushed you forward past Logan, who was staring at you but still with an annoyed and slightly confused expression.

"Well, put your things here and I have to go. Bye bye and thank you, I owe you” Wade quickly led you into the guest room, patting you on the shoulders before disappearing out of the apartment, leaving you and the curmudgeon alone.

You just let out a tired sigh before putting your bag on the floor and looking around the room. It was small but cozy. Even the view from the window wasn't bad, certainly better than in your own apartment.

“What's your name again?” you suddenly heard a deep growl and you quickly flinched as you quickly turned towards the voice. Logan was leaning against the doorframe, his hands wrapped around his chest, his biceps nearly tearing through the soft fabric he was wearing.You swallowed before looking into his face again and began to speak.

“Y/N…yours is Logan right? you tried to be nice again, thinking that the beginning was just a misunderstanding. God you are so pathetic. “Guess” he replied arrogantly and you pursed your lips into a thin line as embarrassment flooded your entire body.

"'kay...well it's kinda late, I'll go prepare some food" you informed him and Logan just nodded before walking off to who knows where. You were relieved when he left. As if his presence made you nervous, but not because of fear, but rather because of another feeling that you couldn't quite describe.

You came to the kitchen and started to assemble the ingredients on the counter. You decided to make spaghetti since that was the only thing they had all the ingredients for and looking around the fridge made you want to buy more stuff tomorrow. Apart from milk, some old rotting food and beer, they had nothing at all, men.

When you were almost done with the spaghetti, it was as if the smell summoned Logan without you having to say anything. He suddenly appeared in the kitchen watching you put spaghetti on two plates and pour tomato sauce over them. “I hope you like spaghetti” you said looking at Logan who surprisingly wasn't looking at the food like you thought, but at you. That caught you off guard a bit but not for too long.

"Mhm yeah" he said and immediately grabbed the plate when you finally added the basil leaves. Why are you even trying to decorate the food, you are not in a fancy restaurant here, but at Wade’s home. You just rolled your eyes and put noodles on your own plate. Logan's hungry chewing was making your ears pop and you couldn't wait to enjoy your dinner in quiet in your room.

No sooner had you added the spaghetti to your plate and decided to go into your room to eat, than Logan was already done with his food and obediently put the plate in the sink. Your eyes widened, Wade was right, this man eats like a beast.

"Do you want more?" he just shook his head as he wiped his red mouth with his hand and went straight into his own room. "m'kay" you whispered to yourself and since he left the living room, you decided to change your plan and eat while watching some TV.

This isn't so bad. If Logan answers with two words and doesn't have any long conversations with you where he just taunts you, 5 days will go by like nothing.

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Second day

You got up early because of the annoying alarm and went to get ready for work. You changed into comfortable but formal clothes, put on some make-up and took your bag. When you left the room, no one was there. You sighed with a smile and went straight to the front door.

Apparently Logan doesn't go to work, which you were a little envious of. He can sleep as long as he wants, then practically do whatever he wants for days, surely he must be a little bored if he's not saving the world.

"Where you're goin'?" you froze in a place when you heard Logan. You slowly turned around, and your eyes widened even more. He had nothing on than boxers, revealing his muscles, abs, and perfect body, which made your saliva fly from your lips.

You quickly wiped it off and looked back into his face. God he was hot. His hair was messy but fluffy, his face looked relaxed and tired but that stern look wasn't there anymore. "I- I am goin' to work" you answered with a shaky voice, for which you immediately cursed.

"What work?" his voice was also grainy and deep, he was literally hypnotizing you right now. "Why do you care?" you finally gain your confidence back and he rolled his eyes. "Geez just askin'" he went to the bathroom without saying bye or something like that. You didn't mind, the only thing that was bothering your brain was, why was he so interested?

Just yesterday he didn't want you here at all and now he's worried about you, that you'll leave him? You probably just overthinking. You took your keys and left the apartment as fast as you could.

When you arrived at the restaurant, your colleagues greeted you and you put on the fake mask with a smile. You changed into your suit and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes with the others.

"Hey everything okay? You look pretty frustrated" one of your colleagues asked and it took you a while to process his question. "What? Oh no it's nothing don't worry" you added a convincing smile at the end of the sentence and continued washing. Of course you're frustrated when you have nothing but Logan in your head, his body, his speech, his hair... this is going to be a fucking tough day.

When your shift ended, you were surprised you hadn't been fired. You were confused all day, mixing up orders, got in the way of your colleagues and even burned food a few times. Each of your colleagues asked you several times if everything was okay and you always gave the same answer. Yes, it is. You didn't understand it yourself, how could you be so stupid today and burn the food? This hasn't happened to you in at least 5 years...

All this happened because of your constant thoughts about Logan. You don't even know how it's possible. After all, he's Logan, the guy you were afraid of and would do anything to avoid him...but that was before you've seen him shirtless in boxers. God those thighs, just thinking about them makes your core vibrate.

Frustrated, devastated and tired, you arrived at your temporary apartment, threw your bag on the floor and leaned against the door with your eyes closed. "Tough day?" you hear that annoying but really sexy voice again, but this time it wasn't in your head.

You open your eyes and saw Logan, sitting on the couch with a can of beer, at least this time he was fully dressed. You didn't even have the strength to answer him with words, you just nodded your head. After that you crawled into your room where you had to clear your head for a while, you laid in bed and just stared at the ceiling.

After a while you heard footsteps, but luckily they crossed your room. Was it really fortunate, or rather unfortunately? Your head was a total mess. Now you could use a hot bath with rose petals and a candle around. This actually didn't sound bad at all, so you decided to indulge.

You got out of bed and went straight to the bathroom where you filled the bath and let out a tired sigh. You probably won't have rose petals and candles, but the bathtub is more than enough. You closed the door, not even bothering about locking it, and took off your clothes. When the water was almost full, you turned the water off and lay down in it, a pleasant growl left your mouth, when the hot water covers all your body. You feel more relaxed than ever.

You closed your eyes and in the blink of an eye, all of your fails today and thoughts of Logan were gone. You listened to the water and the silence around you which was more pleasant than ever before. You felt like you were going to fall asleep in no time, this was exactly what you needed. Until you heard the door slam open.

You flinched and immediately looked at them in fear. Logan eyes widened a bit, when he saw you in the bathtub, but after that one second look he looked down immediately, embarrassed. "Sorry" he said and left the bathroom before you could react in any way.

You were shocked, did Logan really think you wouldn't notice the quick check out before he looks down? Well, now you will definitely not stop thinking about him and it's all your fault. If you'd just locked the stupid door, this wouldn't have happened.

You came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel holding your clothes in your hand. You got another jumpscare when Logan was standing by the bathroom, leaning against the wall. How long was he there? Was he waiting for you or was he eavesdropping on you? You had so many questions but so little time.

"Hey um sorry for that" he didn't even look you in the eyes, apparently he's really sorry. "It's fine just, did you see anything?" Logan took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, giving you a clear sign that he saw something. "Oh my god-" you slammed your hand against your forehead and started flushing.

"Not everything! Just um..." "Stop. Just, act like it didn't happen okay?" you were even more frustrated than before and Logan could tell. He just nodded and walked around you to get into the bathroom. You cursed under your breath and walked into your room, where you finally locked the door and fell into bed.

Is it some kind of sign or bad karma that this is happening to you? First you see him almost naked, then he sees you, why do you deserve this? But the question that really played over and over in your head was, did he like what he saw?

He would have covered his eyes or closed the door immediately, but he just stood there watching you for a while longer. Maybe he was in shock, just like you, and you're overthinking again, or maybe not…

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Third day

You got up in the morning like you always did, did your morning routine and left for work, this time no Logan, no comments from him and it made you feel better. You knew that today was going to be a lot better than yesterday.

You didn't even have to put on a fake mask at work, you smiled for real because you had peace of mind from Logan both in your head and in the apartment in the morning. "Hey why so happy?" your colleague asked and you just shook your head. "I just slept well" which was not entirely true.

You couldn't stop thinking about that motherfucker all night. The way he looked when he saw you in that bathtub, how embarrassed he felt but also looked shy, which you would never say to such a tough guy. How he talks to you much more warmly now and how he even washes his dishes without you telling him to do it. You even had a dream about him that wasn't exactly innocent with rainbows and roses, rather the opposite. But that didn't stop you from having a bad day at work. Until you heard the familiar grumpy voice again.

"Is she here?!" "Sir, you can't talk to her right now-" "I just want to know if she works here!" oh no. You heard the angry punch into the table and knew you had to intervene. You stopped working and went from the kitchen to the restaurant behind the cash register, where was none other than the ass Logan. When he saw you, he immediately calmed down and straightened up.

"Hey, what's going on here?" you asked confused, trying to ignore Logan as best you could. "Um this gentleman is asking for you, is he your boyfriend?" "Fuck no!" you shouted, maybe a bit too much then was a necessary and looked at Logan. "The fuck you doin' here?!" this time you keep your voice low but still rough. Logan took a breath to speak but before he could, you grabbed him and went to the corner, so you won't bother the other customers.

"I um" you were surprised that he was out of words. "Goddammit just tell me!" "I was just curious where you workin' okay?! That's all..." although you haven't known Logan very long and well, you could tell he was lying. However, you didn't have time to investigate the truth so you just let out an annoyed breath.

"You can't be that aggressive here! If you don't order anything, get out!" and with those words you left him behind while walking back into the kitchen. Not gonna lie but you felt a little confident when you did this but you also felt a little guilty.

You are not the aggressive bad type like him, you find sympathy in people and you are a peaceful person who tries not to have a conflict with almost anyone. Logan is a really tough piece.

"Everything fine?" you coworker asked while frying some vegetables and you just nodded. How could you be so naive to think you'd slip through today without a single thought about Logan? You really are pathetic.

When you finished your last order, said goodbye to your colleagues and went to change clothes, fatigue hit you again. Today was better than yesterday, you were more focused and you didn't burn anything, but you still weren't yourself. You were still consumed by your thoughts and memories that your brain repeated over and over again, it was driving you crazy.

The only thing you hoped for now was that last night and the incident with Logan wouldn't happen again. You still can't tell if you liked it or not, but what you know for sure is that you can't stop thinking about that.

You left the kitchen ready to go home until you saw Logan sitting in one of the dining booths, alone, half asleep. He scared you again, like always, and you didn't know what to do, how to react, or what to say. When Logan saw you, he immediately stood up and was like a fresh fish.

"You're done?" he asked, like it wasn't weird at all that he is there sitting and waiting for you like your dad. "W-what are you doing here?" "I was waiting..." he didn't finish the sentence but he clearly meant that he was waiting for you. "Why?" you furrow your eyebrows in suspicion.

"It's pretty dark out there, something may happen" why is he so caring suddenly? Was he really waiting for you here all day, just to give you a walk home? Why? "I've been walking in the dark for years Logan and nothing happened to me" you informed him arrogantly and headed for the exit. Logan chased you like an obedient dog. "You never know" he added and quickly held the door for you like a true gentleman. You paused at his act for a moment before walking out and Logan following.

It was an awkward silent walk next to each other where you said so much but nothing at all. The street was quiet, hardly any cars passed by, and the glowing lamps around gave a pleasant atmosphere. You felt good, and maybe Logan's presence added something to that. After all, you were afraid to walk alone in the evening, even though nothing had happened to you yet, but with him you felt different, safe.

"What's for dinner?" Logan finally broke the quiet silence and struck up a conversation. "Oh um I don't know...maybe salad? If you don't mind there won't be any meat in it" Logan chuckled, hearing that laugh make your heart a little warmer. "Salad sound's good" he said as you arrive at the building.

When you got into the apartment you expected Logan to go take a shower or lock himself in his room like he always did, but this time was different. When you took off your coat and hung it on the hanger, Logan was standing in the kitchen waiting for you. You raise an eyebrow and throw a confused look at him. "You're that excited for the food or?" he shook his head and smiled. That's right, he smiled. You had no idea when did his tough-guy personality snap, but he is way nicer to you and you can't say you don't like it.

"Nope, I was thinking that I could help you..." you froze and just stared at him, still with that raised eyebrow. You were shocked, you didn't recognize him anymore. Logan notices your behavior, immediately having regrets. "but only if you want to-" "No! I mean yeah s-sure" you finally woke up and walked around Logan to get things ready. However, you couldn't escape the smirk that formed on your face.

As you pulled out the bowls and cutlery, you felt Logan's presence behind you. He was huge compared to you, covering you completely and you almost held your breath when you felt him almost touching your body. "What should I do?" he asked, his voice grainy, deep and low like a wolf, making you tremble from excitement.

You needed a second to answer him without any mistake or stuttering. “You can take the vegetables out of the fridge” you pointed your head at the fridge next to you and without a word Logan did as you told him. He put everything on the counter next to you and you couldn't help but watch his hands, how big and hairy they were and a lot of scenarios automatically appeared in your head of what you would like him to do to you with them.

"That's all we have" he breathed out and finally stood next to you, so that his dick wasn't touching your ass anymore. "That's fine, we can make something from that" you grabbed the cucumber and started removing the wrapper. Logan was watching you, really carefully and constantly watching your hand, the way you were holding that cucumber, the way you were taking off the wrapper, god he immediately started getting goosebumps and his dick started twitching in his pants.

"Give me a sec" he said quickly and left. You looked at him confused and flinched a bit when you heard the bathroom door slam. You just shrugged and continued to unwrap the cucumber. He probably just went to piss or something.

After you had almost half the vegetables cut to a small squares and thrown in a bowl, Logan finally returned. "Finally, I was thinking you ran away" Logan just chuckled awkwardly but said nothing. He watched you cut the pepper and finally decided to help you.

He took another pepper and a knife and started cutting it on the table. You didn't really care if he destroyed the table or not, it wasn't your kitchen after all. After you finished chopping all the vegetables, tossed the salad with the dressing, and Logan gave it a good toss, you were ready to feast.

You split the salad into two bowls, the same amount for each, and dipped a fork into it. Logan waited until you filled the second bowl as well, which was a little unusual as normally he would have already started eating and not even waiting for you.

Aftwr you take your bowl and Logan take his, you decided to go into the room to eat but Logan stopped you. "Hey I was thinking if you wanna watch a movie together?" again, his random nice behavior caught you by surprise. Where did the grumpy guy who literally didn't even want you in this apartment go? Apparently he's gone forever.

“Oh um…sure why not” you smiled and Logan went to sit on the couch where he was already holding the remote and selecting a movie. You obediently sat next to him, but at a sufficient distance so that you had enough space and it wasn't some kind of awkward, uncomfortable situation.

"Do you have any ideas?" he asked you as he kept switching between films. "Umm I don't know, I don't really care" you said as you finally took a bite of the salad, which was really fucking good. "Okay, you asked for it" he said and selected a horror movie called Evil Dead Rise. "Awh man this looks nasty" you said as you still chew the salad and scrunch your face in disgust. Logan just giggled and took his first bite too.

After a while watching the movie, you remembered that you are fucking scared of horrors. That film was chill at first, but after the first jump scare, you knew you are fucked. You tried to focus on the salad and not being some crybaby, but your fear got the better of you. When another jumpscare appeared, you almost throw you salad on the floor.

Logan, on the other hand, didn't move a single muscle the whole time watching. He was like a rock with a stern expression. The second he noticed your reaction, he had to look and intervene somehow. "Are you okay?" He asked and you just nodded, but your body said the opposite. You were shaking, wrapped in a ball and your eyes were bawling, the exact definition of a person being terrified to death.

Logan wasn't stupid and he knew you'd probably be peeing with fear in no time. That's why, regardless of the awkwardness of the situation, he scooted closer to you at first, seeing how you're gonna react. The closeness didn't bother you at all, so Logan put an arm around you, making you feel even safer.

"Is that 'kay?" he whispered in your ear, looking down at you while your eyes were securely locked with the TV. You nodded slightly and laid your head on his muscular chest, covered by gray shirt. It was comforting to hear his regular heartbeat. You felt amazing.

You don't even remember the last time you cuddle with someone like that. You don't care that it's Logan, all you focused on was the feeling. The way his body warmed yours, the way he made gentle circles with his finger on your shoulder and the way he breathed, these combinations made you forget about your fear.

After a while your eyelids started to feel heavy and you felt tiredness coming over you. But you were so comfortable that you didn't want to leave anywhere and that's why you succumbed to sleep really quickly on Logan's body.

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Fourth day

You grunted as rubbed your eyes. You lay in bed with your eyes closed for a while until you realized you had to go to work. Your eyes popped open and you sat on the bed as fast as you could. You looked around rashly, realizing you were in your room under the covers. But when you quickly checked the alarm clock, it was damn late. "Fuck!" you shouted and jumped from the bed like a lightning bolt.

You quickly started changing and getting ready for work, even though you were already 3 hours late. The whole time you were cursing under your breath and your heart was beating in the fastest way possible. If they don't fire you today, they never will.

After you were all ready you ran for your bag and went to the door. You've never gotten ready so quickly before. Suddenly you heard the door open and immidiately knew it was Logan. However, you didn't have time for his comments.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. When you quickly glanced at him, he looked pretty tired, like he woke up just now. In addition, he had only boxers again, messy hair and his voice was so fucking rough. When you looked at him you felt a weird feeling in your stomach. "I'm late" you said as you were putting your shoes on. Logan was processing your answer for a bit before he spoke again.

"Oh, work..." he groaned as he realized what you were late for. You just ignore him and give him a quick goodbye before you closed the door and ran to the elevator.

As soon as you opened the door to the restaurant, you ran to the dressing room to change. You tried to be so fast but you were just clumsy and rash. Your chef's suit was crooked and not even all the buttons were on when you appeared in the kitchen, trying immediately blend in. "Oh there you are! Where have you been?" one of your colleagues asked, cutting vegetables next to you. You just shake your head.

"Long night" you sighed tiredly and cooperated with preparing the food. "You're lucky boss wasn't here, you would be cooked" you look at him as he said that and you both giggled at that stupid joke. "Go fuck yourself" you nudged him with your shoulder and shook your head. But he was right, you have much more luck than sense.

You spent last night in Logan's arms and after you woke up and put yourself back together, you realized that he carried you into your room. It's not his fault you overslept, it's yours.

You shouldn't have fallen asleep, you should have just gotten up, said good night and gone to set that stupid alarm clock. But whenever you remember the feeling of him caressing you, how comforting his chest was as a pillow, how his chest smoothly rose up and down, every time your knees got week and you feel that weird feeling in your stomach. You knew what that feeling was and you hated to admit it, but you catched feelings for Logan.

You can't stop thinking about him ever since the first day, you have unchristian dreams about him and you always catch yourself watching him for too long. You never thought you'd like a bad boy, but here we are.

When you were already cleaning the kitchen and getting ready to leave, you noticed a familiar person sitting in the restaurant as one of the last ones.

Your curiosity got the better of you and you peeked more into the restaurant. Of course that the familiar figure was Logan. Again, he didn't have anything ordered, he just sat quietly and stared into nothing. You couldn't help but smile at him when.

You went to change and said goodbye to the others as you headed for the exit. You pretended not to see Logan and ignored him until he instantly came up to you. "Hey, how was work?" he asked as he gentlemanly opened the door for you and waited. You felt your cheeks heat up and you had to look down.

"It was fine, except for the morning..." you chuckle nervously. "Yeah, were you too late?" he asked as he walked closer to the road making you back up a bit. Another discreet gentlemanly move. "3 hours late..." "Damn" his eyes widened as his mouth surprisingly twitches. "Yeah, but luckily I didn't get fired so" Logan laughed and nodded his head in agreement.

"Anyway, any ideas for dinner tonight?" Logan's efforts to keep the conversation going tickled your heart. "Mhmm honestly I don't know…how about pizza?" you looked up at his face waiting for reaction. "Like homemade pizza?" Logan looked into your eyes and you tried to hold eye contact as long as you could. “Of course duh” Logan smiled at your addition and nodded his head. "Sure why not"

You were slicing salami while Logan poured a ketchup mix over the pizza dough. "What about some music?" he asked, still focusing on the smearing. You stopped cutting and looked at him. "Music?" you asked, giving him a confused look. He nodded, looking at you too and when he saw your expression, he stopped his actions and went somewhere.

You were watching him, as he walked to the radio and pressed something on it until a song started playing. Your smile widened and you started laughing, when you saw Logan dancing. He was moving his hips awkwardly and you can see that he really can't dance. His danced moves could be compared to dad style in the 80s.

You needed to cover your mouth and hold your stomach, because the laughter started to hurt, but you couldn't stop. Logan looked at you and held out his hand in front of him as he approached you. You shook your head and almost collapsed on the ground laughing. "Come on!" he shook his hand, convincing you to join him.

After a lot of refusing and giggling, Logan finally convinced you to dance. When you grabbed his hand, he immediately took advantage of it and pulled you a little closer to his body. You squeal a bit at the sudden move, but you immediately cooperated.

You held each other's hands and did little circles with them as your legs scuttle back and forth. You laughed and squirmed, Logan spun you around from time to time and you enjoyed it as much as you could. This is one of those moments that sticks deep in your head. A memory that will always popped up, whenever you hear Logan.

The music pulsed softly through the air, a fast, intoxicating rhythm that seemed to wrap around you and Logan like a delicate thread, pulling you closer. You couldn’t help but glance up at him, your eyes locking for a heartbeat too long, and the intensity there sent a rush of heat to your cheeks.

You tried to focus on the steps, on the sway of the dance, but something about the way Logan’s body moved with yours was deeply distracting. His scent, clean and warm, enveloped you, making your pulse quicken in ways you couldn’t ignore.

Then, without warning, your leg caught the edge of his, and you stumbled, your balance suddenly thrown off. Logan’s arms shot out, catching you before you could fall, pulling you tightly against him to steady you. For a moment, everything seemed to stop, your breath, the world, even the music seemed to fade into the background as you realized just how close you were.

Your faces were mere inches apart, your lips almost brushing his. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his gaze dropping to your mouth for just a fleeting second before meeting your eyes again. The air between you crackled with tension, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. Everything about this moment screamed for you to close that agonizingly small distance, to let yourself get lost in the magnetic pull between you.

Logan’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly, his chest rising and falling in sync with yours as he fought against the same urge. You could see it in his eyes, the desire, the restraint, the way he was holding himself back even though every inch of him seemed to be aching to close the gap. His gaze flickered down to your lips again, and this time, it lingered longer. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly, as if you were subconsciously inviting him to make the move.

For a moment, you both stood at the edge of temptation, teetering on that invisible line. Neither of you spoke, afraid that even a whisper might break the fragile tension and push you over the edge. Your bodies pressed together, heat pooling between you, your breaths shallow and in sync.

But then, something held both of you back. Maybe it was the weight of all that had led to this moment, the fear of crossing a line you couldn’t uncross, or maybe it was the unspoken agreement to savor this tension just a little longer. Neither of you moved, though the pull between you was undeniable. The space between your lips remained tantalizingly close, yet untouched.

“Close call,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of humor and the tension he was trying so hard to rein in.

You smiled, feeling your own pulse slowly return to normal, though the lingering heat of the moment still burned between you. “Too close,” you whispered back, your eyes holding his for a second longer before you reluctantly eased back, just enough to regain some space, some clarity.

“We should finish that” Logan gently let go of you and pointed his head to the half-done pizza in the kitchen. You nodded in agreement, still dazed from the situation that just happened and from the feelings you experienced. You were a little disoriented, just as Logan except, he could hid it better.

After you finished the pizza, the atmosphere wasn't so stiff anymore. Logan was telling funny stories about his past and you just laughed and tried not to get overwhelmed by his gorgeous face. Sometimes when you listened to Logan, the world slowed down and everything was black and white except for him. He shone like the brightest star in the darkness.

After enjoying dinner, cleaning the dishes together and saying good night, you couldn't even fall asleep. You couldn't shake the thought of Logan, that moment when your lips were so dangerously close and even though you didn't have any superpowers, you could feel that he wanted it just as much as you did.

Feeling his beard brushing against your soft skin, feeling his tongue inside your mouth, you could just dream about it. Also, tomorrow is the last day. You don't know if it's good or bad, you don't know if you're happy or just afraid, you don't know anything at all. After all, deep down in your head you had a soft spot and a longing for Logan.

Inwardly, you longed to spend a few more days with him, a few nights alone and see what would happen. This overthinking went too far, you kept your eyes open all night and stared at the ceiling, while outside the birds started whistling and sun rising.

It's here, the last morning in this bed, the last dinner with Logan, the last day.

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Fifth day

You stayed up all night, your stomach churning at the thought that today is final day. At the same time, you couldn't get that moment between you and Logan out of your mind, when just a milimeter was missing and your lips would be stuck together. The desire for Logan, the need to always have him with you and not let him go, was growing by every minute. His smell of cigarettes and scotch always tickled your olfactory cells. Every time you felt him, it was like your heart burst with excitement. But now you couldn't smell it, the only thing that tickled your nose was the steam from the food in restaurant.

"Hey, are you okay?" a colleague nudged your shoulder. "Huh? Yeah I am fine, I am fine..." you weren't fine. The thought of packing up your clothes today and moving back to your apartment, alone. That there will be no one here to hug and protect you while watching a horror movie, that no one will help you prepare dinner, these thoughts were pressing all the points to make you cry.

Despite all these emotions, you tried to keep yourself in check and continue working as if nothing happened, as if the world wasn't practically collapsing before your eyes. You tried to think positively and looked forward to Logan waiting for you again in one of the booths and escorting you to the apartment and making dinner together while talking.

When you finally finished your shift and said goodbye to the others, you walked out of the kitchen looking for Logan with hope in your eyes. Unfortunately, you couldn't find him anywhere. There was no one in the restaurant anymore and your positive thinking was gone. You went alone with gloomy face. This is last night and he just ignore you like that?

When you arrived at the apartment, upset, you were a little surprised to see Logan in the kitchen making dinner. He looked behind his shoulder and his corners lifted up a bit when he saw you. "Hey...sorry I didn't pick you up today, I was preparing dinner" he excused himself and your anger towards him was gone immediately.

Your face softened and your heart melted. He's also sad that it's the last night and he wanted to make it up to you somehow. He doesn't even have to say it with words.

"It's f-fine..." you said, still a bit shocked but more flattered. You walked up next to him, curious about what he is preparing. "Spaghetti?" you asked, even though you saw exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah, we had them on a first night, remember?" he looks at you and you chuckle at the memory. "Oh yeah, you were all grumpy and just took it" Logan scoffed and nodded. "Yeah..."

"Well, it'll be done in a bit, so do your stuff and then we'll go eat, hm?" you just nodded excitedly and fought the urge to kiss him on his cheek as a grateful gesture. You literally ran to your room, closed it and wanted to change into some comfortable clothes. The thing was that all your clothes were dirty and even when you tried really hard to find at least a one clean shirt, it was pointless.

You sat on the bed with a sigh and wondered what you were going to do. "Hey um I just go take a quick shower okay?" Logan burst into your room without knocking and you jumped a bit. He was gone before you could even answer him.

"Okay...." you whispered under your breath and immediately got an idea. You sneaked into Logan's room looking for his shirt. After all, he won't notice that you're wearing it, and if he does, you can explain it to him.

You didn't look long and saw a gray shirt thrown on the bed. You shrugged, grabbed it and walked out of his room into yours. You instantly stuck it to your nose and inhaled its scent. Cigarettes and scotch, oh the combination was sending waves of pleasure between your legs and you couldn't take it anymore. You quickly removed all your clothes and put on his shirt. It was huge on you, it touched your knees and you laugh.

You could still feel him as if he was with you, on top of you and that was exactly what you wanted. You laid down on the bed and closed your eyes, your brain immediately cooperating and starting to create million scenarios while you were still smelling him. The vibrating between your legs started being unbearable and you had to stop it somehow.

I slowly moved my hand to the fabric of Logan's shirt. I stopped between my legs and lifted the shirt up, a sigh left your lips as you felt the cold air touching your folds. Your hand moved down, your fingers slightly touching your folds, making gentle friction. Your moves were slow and sweet, just heating up before you started putting more pressure.

Your jaw fall open as you inserted one finger in, twirling inside and stretching your walls. You imagined that it was Logan's finger that worked a miracle, that filled you with emotions and the need to feel something inside you, to feel him inside you. You desperately tried to reach the sponge spot, that whenever you touch your head you go dizzy in a second.

You needed more, that's why you insert another finger inside you, moving in unison with your hips. You tried to catch up with your orgasm with gentle but eager sensations, Logan's images replayed in your head over and over and your sighs got louder and louder.

“Hey have you seen my gray T-shirt anywhere-“ Logan walked in, not bothering to knock. You gasped at the surprise and immediately covered yourself with a blanket. Logan weist was wrapped by a towel, making you even more wet at the sigh.

"Oh shit" he looked away embarrassed, but you were the one who should be. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why didn't you knock?" you asked, trying to wash off the embarrassment and replace it with anger.

Logan shook his head, still looking away from you. "Look I'm so sorry I was just looking for my T-shirt" "Well I don't have it so go check somewhere else" you said, your voice calm but your heart beat fast. Logan finally gains the confidence to look back at you, furrowing his eyebrows. "Wait, is that my T-shirt you're wearing?"

You tried to be as calm as possible. “What? No, why would I be wearing your shirt?” All your muscles were tense and you prayed that Logan wouldn't notice. “No that's definitely my shirt” he look at the piece that protruded from the blanket as his corner of his mouth lifted up a bit.

You quickly tried to hide more even tho you knew you were fucked. "No...it's not" Logan came closer to you. "Hey, stop tryna hide under the covers..." he grabbed the blanket and tried to pull it off of you, but as hard as you could try, he was much stronger than you.

"Let me just see it" after an unfair fight, Logan won and tore the blanket off you, revealing his shirt on your body. A devilish smile appeared on his face as he saw you. “So you are wearing my shirt” he narrowed his eyes and you started to panic.

“Yeah and what about it? It's the only clean thing I could find and it's comfortable” although you were telling the truth, it wasn't completely true, because deep down you know very well why you took his shirt. Logan chuckled at your answer and came even closer to you, standing right above you.

"So you're telling me it's just a coincidence that your hands are between your thighs wearing the same T-shirt I was just wearing?" oh you were so cooked. "It's not even like that..." you still tried to save it, but it was already too late. Logan giggled again, grabbing your chin, making you look up at him. "I'm not dumb, I know what you're doing"

Oh he was so freaking hot right now, and he knew it. "You're so fucking desperate" now there was nothing and no one to stop Logan in his way. He completely ripped the blanket off of you and got on the bed above you. In this moment you realize, all your desires are finally coming true.

He didn't hesitate for a second before pressing his lips to yours, aggressively and roughly. You immediately cooperated, your arms wrapping around his neck and your legs unintentionally removing Logan's towel as you wrapped your legs around his weist. You could immediately feel his length, making you whine a bit in the kisses.

Logan's hands were not docile and explored your body. He started from your thighs, continued under your t-shirt to your stomach and finally ended on your breasts, which he squeezed and massaged. You pulled out of the kiss, your eyes shut tightly as you sighed his name. Oh he loved the view he had right now. But he still needed more.

He attacked your neck with aggressive bites, leaving marks that will heal for a long time. "~Logan~" you moaned his name as you grabbed his fluffy hair and tugged them whenever he found that sensitive spot. You could feel his smile forming on his face, while sucking and licking your, now red neck.

Logan felt your wetness, your arousal. How he was grateful for those urgent instincts right now. He finally removed his teeth from your neck, but he definitely wasn't done with you. You opened your eyes as you watched him creeping down. His devilish smile not leaving his face for a second. The image of Logan's face between your legs drives you crazy and you couldn't wait to finally feel him. "You smell so fucking good kitty" he said before his lips leaned against your folds.

His hot breath on your bare core was sending shivers down your spine and you fight against every nerve in your body not to burst your hips into his face. He notices your desperate face and your shaking body, so he decides not to torture you anymore. He licked your fold, incredibly slowly but intensively, that you had to arch your back.

He repeated this move a few times, sucking all the wetness you could give him from the outside, before he burst his tongue inside you without any warning. You scream his name and pull his hair as his sudden move catches you off guard, making him chuckle.

His tongue was swirling inside you licking up all your juice, you were delicious. His nose was poking your sensitive clitoris, sending you even faster to your edge. Your hips were moving along his tongue, desperate for more friction and tried to reach your orgasm.

Logan stretched your walls even more, eating you like you were the best meat he had in years, his speed was unbelievable and the pleasure in you indescribable. You feel the tightening sensation in your lower abdomen and you knew you couldn't hold it in for long. You clenched around Logan's tongue, making it harder for him to continue, but he didn't stop. You tightly shut your eyes and throw your head back, as you almost pulled out some of Logan's hair.

He holds you firmly by your thighs, as your hips lose control and after few more twirl moves of his tongue inside you, the feeling of relief wash over your whole body, goosebombs appeared on your skin and your chest was rapidly rising and falling.

You smile, trying to catch your breath but your eyes were still shut. Logan climbed higher, he was now face to face. You felt his heavy breath against your cold nose, so you opened your eyes and smiled even more. Your juice glistened on Logan's beard and his hair messy, proof of your work.

He giggled as he saw your cheeks all red, your forehead sweaty and your hair destroyed, he loved what he was doing to you. "You're fucking beautiful princess" he said before he kissed you, giving you a taste of yourself. You loved the way he kissed. Hungry and furious kisses, but also sweet and gentle and si was his touch.

He explored you with his massive hands, his fingerprints all over your body. You looked really small in his hands, the sigh makes him even harder.

He couldn't get enough of you, he longed to hear you scream his name.

He quickly adjusted his hips and checked down, before he rammed into you, without any warning. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, as you felt his massive length inside you. The joke was, he wasn't even fully in yet.

You bite your lips, trying to be as quiet as you could but Logan didn't make it easier for you. He was inserting himself deeper, stretching your walls as far as they could go and he finally let out a big sigh, when he was balls deep in.

You felt so full, that every place inside you was now completely filled and there wasn't even room for air. You hold tightly Logan's neck and started making a blood mess on your lips as you dug into them with your teeth.

He chuckled and gave you a few hungry kisses, before backing up to get a good look at you. "Don't hold it in princess, let me hear you" his grainy voice tickles your eardrums and right before he finished this sentence, he started moving his hips. Just small smooth movements at first, he barely got out of you. Even though they were peaceful movements, it sent you sky high.

Your lips parted as you started leaving a quiet whispers and whimpers, barely heard but Logan heard them very well. Those pretty sounds of yours makes his mind go wild and he started gaining speed and strength in his hips.

Those smooth sweet movements? All gone in a second. They were fading into lustful, rough and uncontrollable thrusting, that makes those regular clapping sounds.

You rolled your eyes as he was hitting just the sponge wet spot inside you, you tried to desperately reach yourself before. "Hey, look at me" Logan growled through clenched teeth, and you with a bit of struggle manage to look at his focused face.

His hands find their way to your hips, keeping you in a place while he was pushing into you, desperately trying to catch up with his orgasm. He sat on his knees, looking at you from above, clearly showing who is dominant here.

You just seductively let him do anything with you he just wanted. You loved it, the feeling, the situation, the atmosphere, Logan. Everything together was sending you closer and closer to your edge. Sice you lost your hold spot when Logan sat down, your hands found the sheet around you and held them tight.

The wet sound started to permeate the whole room, after a while even the entire apartment. Your brain stopped controlling your body, which is why you started letting out loud moans and whimpers of Logan's name. It was pleassure to his ears.

He stopped counting how many times he imagined you like this, beneath him, fucking your soul out of you. How tears stream down your face and you beg for more as you scream his name. These thoughts and these dreams kept him awake and he himself is surprised that it took him so long to do this, to fuck you properly.

He feels that he is close and so were you. Another orgasm of the day was approaching very quickly, making your legs started vibrating. Logan growled, sigh softly, keeping his eyes on your face the entire time. Well, not the entire time, just a few times he checkedthe part where you were connected.

You started feeling that familiar urge to pee, while Logan's dick was twitching inside you, but not stopping hitting that juicy spot. You were over the edge now. You tried your best not to close your eyes and not release already, even though you knew it would come in any second. Logan also fought all the demons so he wouldn't cum into you and empty his balls, but he wouldn't last long either.

“Fuck” he huffed, dropping his head down while his hips lost control. His movements defied all laws of physics, the entire bed creaked with you and your entire body tensed.

"Logan I-" you couldn't even finish your though before you tightened around Logan, arch your back and close your eyes, finally letting the climax get you. Logan didn't stop, he couldn't, when he was so close to his orgasm too, his precum already mixing with your juice.

Logan felt it, he quickly leaned forward so his stomach was touching yours and he pressed his face into the pillow right next to your head as he thrust into you one last time with the most force. You moaned by his hit, still feeling dizzy from the recent orgasm. He growls like a wild animal as he cums into you, his fingers digging into your skin, definitely leaving bruises there.

You both breathe heavily, staying in this position for a bit. Your bodies were hot with sweat as you still processed the moment.

When your breathing finally calmed, Logan unhooked his face from the pillow and looked at you with a smile. "Don't look at me like that I look like a total mess..." you chuckle from embarrassment and close your eyes. "Said something bad about yourself again and you won't be able to walk for a month" your breath got caught up in your throat as you heard those words. He said that so casually.

"You're gorgeous" he added at the end and kissed you softly, calming your pulse and heartbeat down. After that he slowly pulled out of you, both groaning from the friction again and Logan collapsed next to you. You didn't wait and scooched yourself on Logans body, your leg laying on his while your head listening to those cute regular beats of his heart.

Logan immediately pulled you closer to his body and caressed your shoulder, making gentle circles on it. Your eyes were closed, trying to rest while being still full of the hormone of happiness. Your smile couldn't leave your face and neither could Logan's.

"What about the spaghetti?" you whisper softly, making Logan giggle. "They're probably cold now" he sigh, keep caressing your shoulder. You just grunted, too tired to answer that or even think of an answer. "Are you hungry?" Logan asked immediately with concern and you shook your head with a bit of burden. He relaxed after that and closed his eyes too. Both of you were tired and too lazy to get dressed.

"Would you look at that!" Suddenly you heard another male voice, this one was annoying and quite provocative. You both knew who it was right away. You quickly jerked away from each other when you looked at the door. Wade was leaning against the doorframe, his hands crossed on his chest and his smile was so fucking annoying.

You and Logan were frozen in shock, not knowing what to say or how to even react. "You take the 'take care of him' a bit seriously, don't you think?" you tried to defend yourself, explain it somehow, but you can't get out of this situation.

"Get out" Logan growled sternly but it didn't scare Wade at all. "Wow I mean damn I...I don't really know what to say-" "GET THE FUCK OUT!" Logan screamed this time, even you got goosebumps when you heard him. That already took its toll on Wade. "Okay okay chill...I'm just happy for you guys" he slowly closed the door but right before the end, he quickly opened them again.

"How many rounds did you have?" "GET OUT!" you both scream in union and Wade finally closes the door fully, leaving you two in a very uncomfortable situation.

You slowly looked at Logan and he did the same, but your staring contest broke as you both burst out laughing. You didn't know if it was the adrenaline you still had in your blood, or just a copy mechanism when something really embarrassing happened, either that you were crying from laughing, still laying next to each other, still naked and still in love with each other.

No one warned you that these five days would be the best of your life.

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[celestiamour]

hugh jackman hands appreciation post

i need them inside me-