ANIMAL INSTINCT
PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader
RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT: 2.3k
SUMMARY:
after helping you out by letting you feed from him, logan asks you to return the favor.
part two of bloodthirsty
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
thank you for all the love on bloodthirsty! here’s a nice and smutty second part. big thank you to @guiltyasdave for reading this over for me 💕
TAGS/WARNINGS:
explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), x-men (2000) logan howlett, able bodied reader, vampire mutant!reader, no use of y/n, single POV - reader, primal play (chase/capture), gratuitous use of growling/roaring, light fighting, mentions of blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex (in the woods), oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, blade play (the claws come out).
Logan finds you in an empty hallway one afternoon, about two weeks after your encounter in the kitchen. You made the mistake of making eye contact, leaving you unable to turn and pretend you didn't see him like you've been doing since that night.
"You avoiding me or something?" he says, hint of a smile on his lips.
"No," you reply quickly. "What makes you think that?"
"Haven't seen you around much lately."
"Just busy."
"Right." He looks away for a moment, hands on his hips. "Look, I got a proposition for you."
"I don't--"
"I got this issue--," he continues, ignoring your response "--where it gets to be too much, you know? And I helped you out so--"
"What are you talking about?" you interrupt.
His voice drops a bit lower. "We're predators, right? And I don't know about you but sometimes my prey drive can be...too much, if you catch my drift."
"Okay..."
"And I got two words for you - quid pro quo."
You blink at him. "Logan, that's three words."
"I thought pro quo was one word."
"Why would you think that?"
"We're getting off topic," he says, waving his hands. “Think you can help a guy out?"
"Help you...how, exactly?"
You agree to meet Logan at the edge of the dense forest that surrounds the X Mansion at nightfall and as you walk through the grounds blanketed in darkness, your senses begin to feel more alive. Anticipation courses through you and the further you venture from the mansion, the darker the night becomes.
Logan is already there when you arrive, tension rolling off of him in waves. He gives you a tight smile.
"Took you long enough," he says. You roll your eyes.
"I'm still here, aren't I?" You gesture to the forest. "So, what now?"
"You run," Logan replies. "I hunt."
The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. What he's asking for goes against your nature but some deep part of you is eager to please.
You take off through the trees, running as fast as your legs will carry you across the soft forest floor. With your enhanced speed, it's not long before you're miles from the manicured mansion grounds, surrounded by gnarled roots and a thick canopy of leaves that blocks nearly all light from the moon.
You slow to a stop, catching your breath. The snap of a branch is the only warning you get before Logan's heavy weight barrels into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground with him coming out on top, smiling down at you, a wild glint to his eyes.
"Gotta do better than that, bub," he says. He stands up, holding a hand out to help you to your feet. "I'll give you a head start this time."
"I don't need a head start," you grumble. "I'm faster than you."
He laughs. "We'll see about that."
You start running, his laughter ringing in your ears. Your path is less direct this time, weaving through the trees and doubling back to leave your scent in more places and crossing a small creek with the hopes that the running water helps to cover your tracks. You grow comfortable enough in your lead that you begin to slow down, keeping yourself attuned to the sounds of the forest and any changes that might indicate Logan has found you.
The trees break into a vast clearing, tall grass swaying in the breeze. Moonlight trickles past the branches, stripes of faint light illuminating the floor. You take a moment to appreciate the tranquility of it, but the calm is short lived when you catch movement at the corner of your eye.
Logan steps through the trees. He's removed his shirt, thick muscle glimmering with sweat, his chest heaving with labored breath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight and for a moment you really do understand what it's like to be prey, faced with something so deadly it's almost hypnotizing, impossible to look away even when you’re in danger. He stalks closer and you feel frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.
"Found you," he growls.
Your survival instinct kicks into gear and you attempt to run away, sprinting across the glade with renewed vigor. If you can make it back into the forest you know you could shake him loose again, but staying in the clearing makes you a clear target.
Logan roars, the sound loud enough to shake the branches of nearby trees. You risk a glance over your shoulder and are met with the sight of the man on all fours, running towards you with single minded determination. He rapidly closes the distance with impressive speed, wrapping his arms around you and taking you down to the ground for the second time that night.
You grapple with him, landing a kick to his chest that gives you the chance to crawl out from beneath him. He reaches a hand out for your ankle and drags you back toward him, using his weight to hold you in place. You wiggle an arm free and strike at his face, though he dodges and your fingernails scrape against his neck, leaving red gashes in their wake that heal in the blink of an eye. He pins your arm to the ground above your head.
"No more runnin’,” he says, a command that shoots straight to your core. You know he’s not talking about just tonight, but rather how you’ve been avoiding him.
But how were you supposed to face him when the only thoughts you had of him since then were about how sweet he tasted, how good he felt, how much you wanted more, more, more that you couldn’t possibly ask him to give?
Your inner turmoil is lost when his lips slam against yours in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, stealing your breath with its ferociousness. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp at the sharp sting of pain that lights up your nerves. There’s nothing gentle about it, but you’re not gentle creatures and the beasts that pace and snarl beneath your ribcage have finally broken free.
Logan breaks the kiss to stare down at you with wild eyes. Blood, your blood, stains his lips and his tongue darts out to lick it away with a satisfied hum. He leans in close, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, mouth open against your skin with the threat of sharp teeth over your racing pulse.
“Can’t hide it,” he says. “Not when I can smell it on you, sweetheart.”
“Smell what?”
“How much you want it.” He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss. “How much you want me.”
Heavy hands find the hem of your shirt, shoving it up your chest until it’s bunched beneath your armpits. He pulls down your bra to expose your breasts and your nipples tighten at the sudden burst of cold air against your skin but his mouth is on you in an instant, warm tongue tracing the taut buds. Your back arches at the sensation and you dig your fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands. He hums with pleasure as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same maddening attention.
His palm slides down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and finding your needy center, swirling through the mess you’ve already made in your underwear. You can feel the smug grin on Logan’s face before he even lifts his head to look at you.
“That’s what I thought.” He withdraws his hand, holding it up to his face. In the moonlight you catch a glimpse of the strands of slick stretching between his index and middle finger before he sticks them in his mouth with a groan, licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”
The metallic sound of his claws unsheathing reaches your ears and your pulse jumps as he drags the blunt side of a single blade up the inside of your thigh. The tip catches on the fabric covering your pussy and with one quick move of his wrist he slices through your pants. His claw disappears and he reaches down with both hands to tear the fabric further.
Logan settles on his belly with his head between your thighs, your legs propped up on his broad shoulders. He kisses your pussy over the soaked fabric of your underwear but
spares you any further teasing, grabbing your panties in a tight fist and pulling roughly until the elastic snaps against your skin and he holds the torn fabric in his fist. He tosses them aside and buries his face in your cunt, devouring you like a man on a mission. His tongue alternates circling your sensitive clit and dipping into your dripping entrance, expertly tracing every inch of you. You’re so lost to the pleasure that you don’t notice him getting to his knees until he’s lifting your hips, hands gripping your ass tightly to keep your lower body suspended in the air and his mouth sealed to your cunt.
“Fuck!” you cry out, muscles growing tense as your orgasm builds. It hits you like a tidal wave, coursing through your veins as you shout his name like a prayer. His hold remains tight as he works you through it until you grow boneless in the aftermath.
He lowers you slowly back to the ground and you fight to catch your breath while he quickly removes his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. You watch him take himself in hand, a brief slide of his fist over his impressive length before he runs the glistening head through your sensitive folds, bumping your clit and making you shiver.
Logan’s gaze remains fixed to yours as he presses forward, breaching your tight entrance. Your body accepts him greedily, the slight sting and stretch barely a thought when all you can focus on is how full he makes you feel.
His lips find yours for a messy kiss while he begins to thrust, a slow drag of his cock from your body followed by a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. You cling to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. The scent of his blood invades your senses and your teeth begin to ache at the memory of his taste.
Your teeth catch on his lip and he hisses but doesn’t pull away. Copper blooms across your taste buds and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes into the kiss.
“Come on, baby,” Logan says. “Take a bite.”
You rest a palm on the back of his head, urging him closer, lifting your head and kissing his neck, licking the salty taste of him from over his fluttering pulse. You open your mouth, sinking your teeth into skin and muscle and vein until warm blood spills into your mouth. The combination of his blood on your tongue and his cock spreading you open sends you over the edge.
Above you, Logan growls, a deep rumble you can feel down to your marrow, some ancient part of you preening with excitement. He holds himself still as you clench around him. Your orgasm slowly subsides and you find the strength to unclench your tense jaw from his neck, gently licking at the blood that spills from the deep impressions of your teeth.
Logan sits up, cock slipping from your body and leaving you achingly empty. His hands grip your hips, forcefully turning your lax body over and hiking your ass into the air. He spreads your cheeks and the vulnerable position has your whole body growing hot.
“Hope you didn’t think we were done,” he tells you as he positions himself behind you, thrusting his length back into your body and setting a brutal pace that has you crying out into the night.
One hand holds your hip with bruising force while the other settles on your shoulder, pulling you into every delicious snap of his hips. Your mind goes blissfully blank with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of you for the third time.
He folds forward, his chest pressed to your back and his pace growing sloppy as he nears his own release. A hand curls around yours, a moment of intimacy that leaves you reeling.
Logan roars, hips slamming into a final time, dragging your last orgasm from you as his cock pulses with his release inside of you. A sharp pain on your hip makes you gasp and you notice his claws have extended from the hand wrapped around yours, sinking into the dirt.
“Shit,” he pants, sitting up after a moment. The loss of his heat makes you shiver. “I nicked you.”
You slowly move yourself into a seated position, muscles feeling like jelly, and inspect the area that the pain came from. Your leggings have a new slice in the fabric and the material is sticky with blood but to your surprise, there’s no wound to be found.
“You heal that quick?” Logan asks. You shake your head.
“Not usually.” You run your fingers over smooth skin. “Must have been your blood.”
“You think so?”
You shrug. “Just a guess. Never fed from someone with advanced healing factor.”
“You sayin’ I’m your first?” he asks with a smirk. You can’t help the laugh that escapes and his smirk stretches into a grin. Logan stands, fixing his pants and holding a hand out to help you up.
“How am I supposed to get back into the mansion like this?” you ask, gesturing to your destroyed leggings.
“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he admits. “Give me a few minutes and I can be back with some new clothes.”
“How are you going to get into my room?”
He turns to look at you, continuing to walk backwards.
“I’m a man of many talents.”
With a wink, he disappears through the trees. You sigh.
What have you gotten yourself into?
Thank you for reading!
LINKS
all masterlists | logan howlett masterlist | support for palestine
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Teaser: My Name Is Brutus (And My Name Means Heavy)
Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader
oooo what's this??
me dropping a juicy little teaser of probably one of my favorite things I've written??
so. this is basically an ABO au with a race engineer & lauda mc, with the wonderful trope of enemies to lovers thrown in, as you will soon see from the scene I'm releasing a bit early.
other things about the fic: slow, and i mean fucking slow, burn. exploration of what disabilities would look like in the ABO world (especially centered around the sense of smell and how that could be considered a disability if someone doesn't have one in a world where most things are communicated by smell), societal pressures about what the ideal alpha/omega/beta should look like to the rest of the world which leads to Lando making assumptions about MC's secondary gender/sex, mentions of past emotional & mental abuse, PTSD, scarring, and worries about self-worth. Oh. and obvious hurt/comfort. But again, and I cannot emphasize this enough. Slow. Fucking. Burn.
uhhh i guess i'll do a tag list too for this so. tell me if you wanna be on that.
“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like, when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”
“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, icy eyes that challenge even the Lauda death stare. “What do you mean?”
You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say whatever you were about to say.
“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”
“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The heavily medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?
“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks.
“I beg you pardon?”
“You don’t take criticism well.”
“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.
“Then you won’t throw a hissy fit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?”
Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated.
“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”
Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else.
“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icy-calm.
Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or the way you speak to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you talk. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.
“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”
That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With the classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth....
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Coin Flip: A Ship Name Study
Otherwise known as: yes, hi, I am coping with the end of Searcher by focusing on this hot mess of a couple. I did one for Radiant Words, might as well again!
So, first off, I can't take credit for the name! That goes to my friend @amethystunarmed, a genius as always. I just wanna dive a little deeper into it, to convince others to start using it!
So, why Coin Flip? Well, obviously it pulls on their titular song Two Sides of a Coin (god, I still think it's beautiful that the entire chat started shipping them at that.) The fascinating thing about Dakkar and Kal is that they truly seem to be just that! Two sides of the same coin! Neither of them can ever fully keep a victory, always struggling against each other.
A flip of a coin - who wins? Who loses? Will there ever be an end to this fight, this relationship, that clearly has them both in a grip? They always fight to a draw, it's cosmic law.
What would you do without me, I'm not certain...
It's pretty clear that Kal respects Dakkar in a way he hasn't done so for any other character so far - Samuel, and AJ, for example. He spends time actually talking to Dakkar, negotiating with him. He doesn't see it as a joke, like Dakkar is beneath him. He didn't do that for anyone else!
Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Dak!
Everyone else has been boring.
Dakkar is the main event.
Meanwhile, Dakkar has kept on moving. He never even says Kal's name throughout the whole show. Mobilis in mobili, right? But he also knows where to dig when he needs to, insulting Kal with ease. Dakkar is furious here, practically brimming with rage. Kal brings out a side of him we haven't seen yet, and it's delightful to listen to.
I will stand, and you will falter! I'll be the rock of Gibraltar!
I will float and watch you sink, and it eats you up inside!
What is so interesting about this ship is the amount of history we can tell is there from a song that is only a couple of minutes! There's bitterness, there's knowing - these two go right for the THROAT when it comes to each other. Kal's jabs at Dakkar are a lot more personal than his to Sia ever were. (He went STRAIGHT for the daddy issues with Dakkar, damn.) Their strikes aim true, while they get in each other's heads.
They know each other like their other half--because maybe they were, once. Like the palm of their hand. Like the other side of a coin.
How well did they know each other?
Two sides of a coin.
The coin flips. Which side will it turn up on this time?
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I'm sorry if I'm annoying you. But I can't get over you City Lights AU Dale. The man looks like he has all the issues and is hanging on by the thinnest thread. One more problem and he will just fully collapse.
😂 I'm eating your asks like sandwich.
^ He is overworking himself in a desperate attempt to make peace with the fact that he never got to hear his late father say "You did everything I ever asked without complaint; you are such a good son and you've made me so proud."
Push him near a goalpost and he'll panic and kick it across the room. We don't know how to process feelings of achievement and pride in this family. Those are Bad Emotions that will get the company steamrolled by competitors... You could lose everything... Is that how you want to be remembered?
I've been waffling on whether to share this WIP or withhold it for in-the-moment drama, but just for you... a treat.
His back ached from hunching; his feet stung from dirt. Vicky didn’t leave me down there; she always came back. “Do you know what that means?” Without waiting for an answer, Dale grabbed Timmy’s shoulder with one hand and pumped his fist with the other. “I’m still her bestie! She didn’t replace me!”
“She locked you in a cellar for 7 years,” Timmy started, but Dale cut him off by slamming the bathroom door. And he laughed at nothing, clutching fingers in his hair, because… He really had to talk to her. They could clear this whole mess up!
Now, let’s get one thing laid out crystal-flat. Dale knew Vicky had locked him up down in Dimmsdale’s tunnels, sure. He wasn’t stupid. But she wouldn’t have done that at all if he hadn’t threatened to tell untrustworthy adults about The Accident that kicked the lemonade business off in the first place, and it wasn’t her fault he’d been a disloyal friend. He really put her in a bad position there- That can’t be denied. Dale dragged his hands down his face (and dragged his butt down the door) until he thumped on freeze-dried tile. His toes gripped the bathmat. He wrapped his arms around his knees.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry… I'll be better. I'm ready to listen now.
Prompt #96 - "You Deserve It"
My terrible headcanon is that if it took 7 years for Dale to work up the courage to open a trapdoor and crawl out, and he didn't file charges severe enough to stop Vicky from babysitting Timmy, he is not the kind of person who would stop hanging out with her SDLFKJ.
Also, here's a sketch I made for this post. I opted not to post it there, but I think it captures My Vision really well:
Toxic ex-BFFs with a very weird dynamic post-lemon pit torture, gossip buddies, and a secret 3rd thing... silly little guys.
He hates the fighting, but he craves the structure... Being nice to Vicky is the safe option... It's such big "Get real, Dale- No one will ever want to deal with you and your problems; I'm the only one who can put up with your baggage" vibes...
He can tolerate the bruises; he can make little exceptions; friends forgive each other and not forgiving her would mean throwing away the 3.5 years they had before the Real Trouble Began... Do u understand...
I've been brainstorming another WIP of Dale fantasizing about terrible things he wants to do to Vicky, but I'm not sure I'll actually write that one because it's pretty dark SLKDFJ
Listen, I just want Dale to slam Vicky against a wall and it turns out Mark was shapeshifted as her handbag and OH, HE PROTEC-
It's extremely important to me that Dale is nice and sympathetic enough that Dev believes if he can just pry his dad away from business, they can play and have fun. Dale being "sweet and engaging and loving" around his wife and during the holidays has done a NUMBER on Dev's psyche.
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