#cavillrine fanfiction

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Nothing More Than An Animal

Title: Nothing More Than An Animal

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, unwanted attention, bar fight, Wolvie being Wolvie, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, claw kink

Beta: @peyton-warren

A/N: The title is taken from this quote from Savage Wolverine #13: “Most people think I'm nothing more than an animal!” Thank you to my amazing beta, Peyton, for giving me this idea in the first place.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You couldn’t help yourself. You stand across the street from the biker bar, a flickering streetlamp above you casting an off-white haze. The only thing keeping you from entering the establishment is your sense of self-preservation. This place, Torque Tavern, screams danger. But that only draws you in further.

You’re dressed in your usual style: your favorite Joan Jett shirt with the sleeves cut off, a denim jacket, a pair of figure-hugging black jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens boots. While normally you walk around with a sense of power, tonight was different.

A chill in the air makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You step off the curb into a dirty puddle, crossing the street after looking both ways. With your hand on the bar door, you pull it open and step inside.

The smell of stale beer and tobacco smoke hits your nostrils as the door closes behind you. A dozen heads turn to you, and your heart pounds. You look across the dimly lit room and notice one person who hasn’t paid you any attention, sitting on a stool at the L-shaped bar. You walk up and sit on a stool, a couple of seats away from the large man.

While you wait for the bartender to attend to you, you peek at the behemoth that sits near you. Wild, dark hair that comes to a point on each side, bushy sideburns, and a non-connecting beard outline his face. A white tank top stretches across his wide, thick frame. Bulbous, sweaty biceps glisten in the glow of the lights behind the bar. Hairy, veiny forearms lead down to strong hands: one grips around a lowball of amber liquid so tight that his knuckles are white, and the other balances a fat cigar between two fingers.

“Take a picture, bub, it’ll last longer,” the stranger says, letting out a plume of smoke from his chapped lips before turning his tidepool blue eyes on you.

After a few seconds that feel like minutes, you’re finally able to turn around and look away, mumbling an apology. You can still feel his eyes on you for a bit before he turns back to his drink and his solitude.

Your eyes shoot up once the bartender knocks on the bartop in front of you. “What’ll you have?”

“Uh, yeah. Moosehead and a shot of J.P. Wiser’s,” you reply, unsurprised when the bartender raises a brow at you. He then shrugs, cracks open a bottle of lager, and sets it in front of you. Grabbing a shot glass, he pours you a bit of the blended whiskey.

As soon as the light golden liquor is pushed toward you, you lift it and inhale the vanilla aroma. Tossing it back, the taste of licorice and cinnamon cascades over your tongue and down your throat. You exhale the burn and turn your attention to your lager.

You notice the murmurs behind you. A chair is pushed away from a table, and heavy boots are walking up behind you. A strong hand lands on your shoulder, and you freeze. “Hey, doll. Can I buy you a drink?”

You hold up your beer and decline, “I’m fine, honey.”

“Aw, come on. Just one drink. Promise I don’t bite, ‘less you want me to,” the source of the voice laughs, coming around to lean on the bar between you and the cigar-smoking stranger, his bald head glistening in the low light as he strokes his long, scraggly beard. His beer belly is barely contained in a Limp Bizkit shirt. This man is a walking red flag, and you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Look, pal. Let me enjoy the drink I have, ok? This is my one fucking night off this week, and I’m not in the mood to let you ruin it with any of your shitty pick-up lines or the promise of hanging out with you and the rest of the rejects from Sons of Anarchy, got it?” You surprised yourself by bellowing these words to a stranger, one who could probably benchpress you with ease.

You flinch as his expression turns dark and he raises a hand. “You stuck-up little bitch, I ought to—”

The cigar-smoking stranger interrupts, seizing him by the throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground as if he were a mere feather. While holding him aloft with one hand, the other hand balls into a fist while sharp blades appear from his knuckles.

He’s a mutant! You’d never seen anyone use their abilities up close, but now a man with incredible strength and metal claws is gallantly defending your honor.

“I think the lady has everything she needs, so why don’t you and your little friends scurry along before I get really angry and carve you up in front of everyone, eh?”

The sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked has every head whipping to the bartender. “Get out of my bar, freak!”

The mutant simply turns and deposits the asshole on the ground in a crumpled mess. Blowing another puff of smoke into the ceiling, he throws back the rest of his drink before grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and walking out. Halfway to the door, he turns to you and asks, “You coming or what, bub?”

You couldn’t scramble off your stool quick enough after he challenged you to follow him. Stepping over the man left on the floor, you scurry after your mutant savior. Once back in the night air, you look over as he stuffs the bottle into the storage of his Harley-Davidson. As he swings his leg over the bike and settles into the seat, you can't help but notice the bike sagging under his weight, as if he weighs a ton.

He turns back to his storage, taking out a helmet and holding it out to you. You’ve seen enough movies to know that riding with a stranger is a dumb idea. However, if that mysterious stranger happens to be attractive and cruising on a Harley, who could resist the allure of a thrilling adventure?

Taking the helmet, you pull it down over your head and lift a leg to get onto the bike behind him. As he turns the key, you clench your thighs at the vibration and wrap your arms around his waist.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” he informs.

“Oh, this isn’t tight," you remark, suddenly realizing that you don't know what to call this man. You offer your name, and he repeats it before giving his own.

“The name’s Logan.” He drops his cigar butt on the asphalt and stubs it out with his boot before putting up the kickstand and backing out of the parking spot. He revs the engine, and you are off on your way to wherever Logan wants to take you.

The drive is smooth, the city whizzing past you as Logan speeds down the highway. You end up at a garage that houses a few more Harleys in various states of repair. Logan puts the kickstand down and lets you get off the bike first. He watches as you take off the helmet and look around at where he’s taken you.

Exiting the bike, he takes the helmet when you hold it out to him. You don’t miss the way his fingers lingered on yours for a beat. He takes the bottle out of his bike pack and takes a hefty swig, then hands it to you.

You read the label, ‘Forty Creek Confederation Oak’, and put the bottle to your lips. Tipping it, you are delighted to taste the honey flavor. Handing him the bottle, you hold the liquor in your mouth until it starts to burn, and then you swallow and exhale the nutty finish.

He appears to be quite taken aback that you managed to drink without gagging, and his intrigue deepens as you begin to move closer into his personal space. The warmth in your chest from the alcohol has you feeling full and content. The heat coming off of his body as you stand close enough to breathe in his air has you feeling something completely overwhelming: pheromone-induced arousal.

Your libido is making itself known as you watch him watch you. Unable to stop your hands, they find themselves smoothing up his tank-covered torso until you tug at the collar. He gets the hint and sets the bottle down before removing his shirt.

You encounter a soft, furry chest that invites you to sink your fingers into its warmth. Tightening your digits in the hair on his pretty pecs, you revel in the growl he makes. He then levels the playing field, grabbing you by the nape of the neck with one large paw and bringing your face to his.

As you part your lips, a soft whimper slips out, unable to be contained, while he teasingly brushes his tongue against your lower lip. Growling again, he dips further to slot your mouth with his. He devours the moans that come out of you as he grabs a handful of your ass, chuckling into the kiss as you let him take the lead. His tongue licks into your mouth, and you feel drunk on his whiskey-laden kiss.

Breaking the kiss, he pushes down on your shoulders until you are kneeling at his feet. You start to unfasten his tight-fitting jeans, but he swats your hands away.

“Not yet, bub,” he warns. “I wanna try something.”

With that, he has you pass him the bottle. He takes a drink and then holds your cheek against his denim-covered cock. You can sense that he’s packing quite a surprise down there, and you’re eagerly anticipating the moment it’s unleashed.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

You watch as he takes the bottle and pours about a shot’s worth of liquor over his chest. Watching as the liquid washes over him, you are more than eager to taste it directly from his skin. After you’ve cleaned his chest of all traces, he takes another drink. This time, he holds your face by the jaw and leans down, spitting the whiskey directly into your mouth.

You gulp it down eagerly, on the verge of pleading for another sip, when he scoops you up from the ground and twirls you around, positioning you over the bike you arrived on. He yanks down your jeans, your panties going with them. He lands a slap on each cheek before you hear him unzip his pants and feel his heavy dick teasing your clit.

He kicks your legs open further, pulls your denim jacket off, and lines himself up with your soaked entrance. Sliding in, he hisses at the heat of your tightness. You whine at his girth, stretching you more than any other cock you’ve ever taken. Once he bottoms out, the tip kisses your cervix, and his hairy ball sac rests against your puffy pussy. He pauses to let you get used to his size, but as he continues to take his time, it seems he is just tormenting you.

“Logan, please. Need you to move,” you plead, wiggling your hips to get any kind of friction.

You don’t see the toothy grin that covers his face, but you know by the way he tightens his grip on your hips that he is about to fuck you ten ways from Sunday.

Gradually withdrawing his hips, he eases out until only the tip of his shaft stays nestled within you, and then he thrusts back in with force. Doing it again, and then again, he pauses after each thrust to tease you. But on the third plunge, he doesn’t stop; he just keeps driving into you.

The rhythmic sounds of your sweat-soaked skin colliding form a captivating tune, harmonizing with the slick, squelching rhythm of his thrusts deep inside you. Coupled with Logan's deep, primal growls and your breathy moans, it creates an intoxicating symphony of desire.

You sense one of his hands sliding away from your hip, pushing your top up your back, and then a sharp SNIKT! pierces the air. You almost turn to inquire where the sound came from, but you soon feel something razor-sharp and hot to the touch sliding down your back. Once you realize that he’s touching you with his claws, you’re overcome with arousal, and your walls flutter around him. He fucks you through your orgasm and retracts his claws.

He slows his hips, pulling out and moving you both over to a nearby armchair. Sitting down first, he crooks a finger at you, and you remove your jeans and boots before straddling his hips. As you lower yourself onto him, you feel him fill you once more, the sensation overwhelming as you settle in.

You close your eyes and begin to ride him slower than before. Before you know it, you feel hot steel, or what you assume to be steel, at your neck and open your eyes to see his fist a few inches from your face. The claws, held within a millimeter of your jugular, glide across your skin.

“Hey, bub? You gonna keep pussyfooting around, or are you gonna ride this cock like the good little slut I know you are?” He asks, his pupils dilated until there is barely any blue left.

Your mouth opens and closes, but there is no sound coming out besides whimpers of fear that he might push those claws through your neck. Honestly, it added an extra little something to the experience, feeling that he might cut you at any moment.

The claws disappear back into the skin between his knuckles, and instead, he wraps a hand around your neck, guiding you to ride his length exactly as he wants. Your hands hold his thick wrist as you impale yourself over and over again.

“That’s it. Ride my cock just like that,” he praises, sticking two fingers in your mouth that you gluttonously suck. He locks his gaze on yours while you reach another peak of pleasure, your inner walls tightening around him as you release a wave of warmth that cascades down his length and between his legs.

When you threaten to slow down, he fucks into you, chasing his release. At this point, you are drooling over his fingers and looking like the fucked-out little doll that you are. You can tell that he is close as his hips stutter and his brows furrow as he removes his fingers from your mouth.

“Come inside me, Logan. Want it, need it so bad,” you beg, moving your hips as he drives into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He lets out a throaty growl and buries himself to the hilt inside of you. Feeling him twitch inside you, rope after rope of his cum painting your cervix, you reach back and play with his balls.

It’s minutes before his cock softens enough to slip out of you, and you rest your head on his chest as his jizz drips from your thoroughly used hole. To your astonishment, his hand rises to gently stroke your back while you find yourself gripping his chest hair.

Little did you know, this was only round one with the big lug. He’ll let you get some shut-eye for now, but later? He’d like to fuck you on every available surface in his garage. And what he wants, he always gets.

A/N: I intentionally used a line from the X-Men (2000), but then failed at “Chekov’s Gun” sort of. But this story only has two acts. So, fuck Chekov. I hope you all enjoyed my little fuckfest here, and please do let me know what you thought!! Writers are fed by comments!

**Tag List**

@littlefreya @mrs-solo-walker @viking-raider

Let me know if you want to be added (or removed). 😁

[peyton-warren]

Cavillrine with reader on her period.

Fucking her, not caring if blood gets on the sheets, he’s seen blood, fuck it he’s spilt blood before.

Thank you for the ask hon!! Yours was the first of the Writer's Block Party Prompts that I tackled, so thank you for sending me such an enticing idea! I hope this drabble fits the bill.

Characters: Cavillrine, Reader Fandom: Deadpool and Wolverine Pairings: Cavillrine x Reader Word count: 308 Gender/Ethnicity: Any. Reader menstrates Type: One-shot Warning: discussion of blood, hinting that Reader menstrates, Logan being Logan Author's Note: Thank you to @rosecentury for the prompt, and @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta! And thank you for those of you sticking with me through my horrendous writer's block. Tried to keep reader as Neutral as possible to be inclusive. Summary: You and Cavillrine hit an impasse, or did you? Ask Box: Open Masterlist

Your cheeks flamed as Logan looked at you like you had 27 heads.  “And?” he asked.  

You shook your head and sighed—damn near tears at this point.  “There is no ‘And,’ Wolvie.  It's just that.”

He still looked befuddled, his forehead wrinkled in confusion and his eyes darting between yours as if one would tell him something your lips did not.  Shaking his head with almost a snap, he started to smirk.  “You think a little blood is going to scare me?”

“It squicks some guys,” you tried.    His smile widened into an out and out toothy grin.   “”First of all I’m not ‘some guys’,” he assured you.  “Secondly, what the fuck does ‘squick’ mean?”  His lack of pop culture knowledge always amused you and this was no different.  Now you tried to hide your smile behind your hand but your giggle was unmistakable.  “Oh and now you are laughing at me?!?” he joked before opening his arms to you.  “C’mere, bub,” he stated softly.  

You step into him and wrap your arms around his solid waist, pressing your giggles into his chest.  “You are adorable when you giggle,” he informed you, his rough chin brushing your neck as he hugged you closer.  

“You’re pretty adorable all the time,” you affirmed.    

“I don't know that I’ve ever been called adorable,” he admitted with an amused tone.  “Can I get back to fucking you now?” he asked in the next breath.  

Lifting your head, you found his heated stare moving from your eyes to where you were biting your bottom lip, suddenly wondering why you stopped kissing him in the first place.  Without another word your lips found him in a hard kiss, reigniting the flames that you had briefly tried to douse just a few short minutes ago as his hand slipped under the waistband of your panties.  

General Tag List: @ellethespaceunicorn @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire, @jvanilly, @identity2212, @avengersfan25 @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 @cynic-spirit @rosecentury HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn @summersong69,

@sillyrabbit81 @mistressmkay

If you want to be added or removed from my Tag Lists, please let me know.

[witchywithwhiskey]

🥺👉👈 tell me more about the one bed prof!Steve and Logan's cigar pretty pretty please 🥺👉👈

i talked about my only one bed professor steve rogers wip here—but i'm DELIGHTED to talk about logan & his cigar, though i feel like i should say up front, i'm writing it for Henry Cavill's Wolverine 🫣 (idk if you were hoping for hugh jackman so just wanted to warn anyone first!)

i'm so excited for this fic, though, because it's going to be filthy. it's inspired by this post, but in my fic, Logan's going to be mean. i haven't actually written very much, but i've been thinking about it a lot over the last couple of weeks and i've decided on some kinks i want to include (rope restraints, for one, and i'm going to be including degrading body writing for the first time, which should be fun! 😅).

i just haven't had the time to work on it more! but i will! but here's what i have so far—like i said, it's not much:

Logan puffed on the end of his cigar, a self-satisfied snarl on his face, blue eyes glittering in the yellow light of his garage. Then, without warning, he exhaled a deep breath, blowing a gigantic cloud of foul-smelling smoke directly into your face.

“You’re disgusting,” you hissed, spitting in Logan’s face, nearly missing his eye. The glob of your spit landing in the thick mutton chops that framed his devastatingly furious face. 

But instead of snarling at you, the big man just chuckled. With a soft snick, his claws extended, their points digging into your neck just beneath your chin. 

thanks for playing my WIPs ask game!!

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

Henry Cavill Masterlist

Here you will find all of my Henry Cavill works, arranged by character and type of work.

One-Shots

Forever And A Day - Explicit - Geralt x Black!OFC - Geralt and Lavinia share a passionate reunion.

Events

You're Mine | Geralt of Rivia + Female Reader + Daddy Kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

Series

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing)

Touch and Go (possibly ongoing)

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

Requests

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth - Explicit - Walter Marshall x Reader - You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Challenges

Fifteen Minutes - Explicit - Walter Marshall x Unnamed Black!OFC - What Walter does with 15 minutes of his time.

Headcanons

Hobbies

Events

A Little Fresh Air | Walter Marshall + Female Reader + Public Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut (Sweet Treats Event 2024)

One-Shots

Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe - Explicit - Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader - Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

Some Things You Just Can’t Refuse - Explicit - Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader - A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Don’t Kill My Vibe - Explicit - Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader - You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Requests

Happy Birthday, Cupcake - General - Clark Kent x PlusSize!Reader - Clark surprises you for your birthday.

Praise You - General - Clark Kent x Insecure PlusSize!Reader - Clark Kent loves everything about you, especially what you think are your flaws.

One-Shots

What Are You Doing, StepBro? - Explicit - Humphrey x Stepsister!Reader - You and Humphrey don’t have the best start, but before long you will reach an arrangement.

Requests

Doing Something Unholy - Explicit - Charles Brandon x Reader - This is a prompt fill for some teasing of Charles Brandon and then him taking over.

Series

Scrapbook (finished) - Side characters include Walter Marshall, Evan Marshall, Syverson, and Gus March-Phillipps

One-Shots

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director’s Cut] {DARKER FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Series

Love, Napoleon (ongoing)

One-Shots

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl - Explicit - Napoleon Solo x Reader - Napoleon wines and dines.

Series

Daddy Knows Best (possibly on hiatus)

One-Shots

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director’s Cut] {DARKER FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Treat Me Like A Slut - Explicit - August Walker x Reader - August has had enough of your antics, and you’re going to pay for it.

Requests

Executive Temptation - Explicit - CEO!August Walker x Employee!Reader - You’ve caught the eye of CEO August Walker. What happens when he asks you to go to his private office?

One-Shots

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind - Explicit - Sherlock Holmes x Reader - As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Requests

The Paganini Problem - Mature - Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader - Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him.

Series

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

Challenges

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out - Mature - Syverson x Reader - When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU.

Requests

Shape-Up - Explicit - Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) - Syverson and his girl, Peaches, try and trim his beard without causing a ruckus. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Drabbles

My Little Strawberry - Mature - Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) - A follow-up to Shape Up. Sy has a conversation with his baby girl while she’s still in your stomach. 

Events

Say It Again | Captain Syverson + Female Reader + Phone Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut (Sweet Treats Event 2024)

One-Shots

Nothing More Than An Animal - Explicit - Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader - After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

Clark Kent (Man of Steel, BvS, Justice League)

Humphrey (Stardust)

Charles Brandon (The Tudors)

Mike (Hellraiser: Hellworld)

Napoleon Solo (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.)

August Walker (Mission: Impossible - Fallout)

Gus March-Phillips (The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare)

Will Shaw (The Cold Light of Day)

Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes films)

Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)

Evan Marshall (Blood Creek)

Melot (Tristan and Isolde)

Thomas Apreas (Hotel Laguna)

Chas Quilter (The Inspector Lyndley Mysteries)

Stephen Colley (I Capture the Castle)

Henry!Wolvie AKA The Cavillrine (Deadpool & Wolverine)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR HENRY

FULL MASTERLIST IS HERE.

[cardierreh15]

Variants

Please read part one to understand part two! ⚡️🐺 if you choose to be lost that’s your business but I warned ya!

***I do not consent to anyone translating, copy and/or repost my work!!!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! MDNI

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Angst , Mentions of Death , Blood , Smut - Logan being an absolute MONSTER (this is very graphic) & Ororo being folded like a pretzel, lil bit of Voyuerism , Oral(Female Receiving) Face Sitting 😁, Scratching , Fingering/Masturbation , Minor Begging , Basically, Pray for her pussy. 😭

Pairings: Logan Howlett (Cavillrine) x Ororo Munroe also known as Storm

Description: Logan & Storm have a heart to heart. ⚡️

Word Count: 6.8K

Song: Earned it by The Weeknd

Side Note: Ororo's thoughts are in Italics Bold and OG Logan's voice is in orange italics.

Side Side Note: There are some elements taken from the X-Men movies but this is my own twist on it. I do not own the rights to those films or the characters. (Halle Berry is also not the Storm here)

Part two

Since Ororo’s arrival on Earth 199999, the weather has been less than satisfactory. The humans either blamed the wrath of Mother Earth or “Those Damned Mutants.” There was no in between but they were right about one thing.

The Storm goddess did have parts to play in why the weather was the way it was. Ever since she’d been here, her powers have been obstreperous; unpredictable and uncontrollable. It took her almost 20 years to get it right back home. And now here she was again starting from scratch. 

But the weather wasn’t the only thing that she had a hard time with. Nightmares haunted her at night; leaving her companion as exhausted as she was. She screamed, wept, and even had full conversations. 

On occasion, he’d get up from the large sectional that he slept on and drag himself to the bedroom. He wouldn’t dare wake her though, he’d just watch as she would cry and struggle to breathe. A part of him was afraid to wake her up while she was in such a state. He’d prefer to have his insides raw instead of scrambled like an egg.

As much as it pained him so, he’d watch her suffer until she quieted down. And by then, twilight had come and sleep was no longer an option.

Today was a regular day for both of them. Logan was tucked away in the garage working on something that’d aid his boredom. While Ororo was focusing on peeling the clouds out of her view. Her eyes white as snow and focus dead set within.

With her straining came the grunts and the gritting of her teeth. Blood began to drip from her nose and her headache returned. ‘Almost—‘ She huffed as her held up palms began to shake as if they were holding something heavy. And finally, the clouds disappeared from view.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, her eyes returned to normal and her arms dropped to her sides. They felt so heavy. And the headache remained. But on the bright side, she’d finally made progress and plucked a big rain cloud out of view of the blue sky.

‘Y’know, we could’ve used someone like you back in the day.’

Ororo whipped her head around but stumbled slightly when the dizziness came just as quick. ‘Mmm.’

‘Whoa, easy.’ Logan said as he reached out and grabbed her waist, helping her catch her balance once again. He took a good look at her, ‘You’re bleeding…’

She wiped her nose with her wrist and looked down at the bright crimson blood, ‘Oh… yeah. Looks like I am.’ She uttered softly.

‘You don’t seem surprised. Lemme go get you something to clean that up with.’

Letting out a gentle sigh, she leaned against the wooden railing for support when he let her go. Her mind felt like mush and she felt like she had a cinder block placed atop her head. And those moments of him leaving her side had felt like an eternity.

His heavy footsteps brought her out of her thoughts and she was able to pull herself upright to face him. In one hand he had two cream colored, large pills and in the other was a glass of water with a white wet cloth thrown over his wrist.

‘Jeez! What the hell are those?!’ Her eyes grew at the sight of the drugs.

Logan smirked, finding humor at her reaction, ‘its acetylsalicylic acid.’

Ororo’s brows tugged into one as she took the glass of water into her palm, ‘Aspirin.’

Giving her a nod, he outstretched his hand for her to take them.

‘Fuck, they feed these to horses?’ She pinched them up into her fingers before dropping them into her mouth and taking a big gulp of her water. She swallowed in hopes of swallowing both of them, but only swallowed one. ‘Ugh! They’re so hard to swallow!’

Logan laughed, ‘Only cause you’re thinking too hard! Drink some more water.’ 

She knocked back another gulp of water and swallowed hard. With her hand on her chest, Ororo whimpered and glanced up at him, ‘That went down hard. That’s super gross too.’ She took the cloth and wiped her nose free of the smeared blood.

‘Well it’s medicine, Ororo it’s not supposed to be tasty.’ He chuckled deeply once more as he rested his weight on his arms, leaning against the wooden rail.

‘It—‘ she paused for a second and did the same. She glared at him in a knowing glare. He’d been calling her Storm for weeks on end. But he said it right as if it came naturally.

‘You said my name right.’

Logan looked over at her, ‘I’ve been practicing. Besides, you call me James and I think it’s only fair that I address you by your name.’

Aw, she couldn’t help but feel a twist in her chest when he said it. It sounded just how James would say it. Effortless and again, natural. Easy. A smile curled on her lips, ‘Well, that’s thoughtful. Thank you.’ 

‘Mmm.’ He hummed softly before peeling his eyes away from hers to look up at the sky. ‘Seems like you’ve made some progress huh? It feels good to see some sunshine.’

She brought the glass up to her lips once again to take a sip then placed it down next to her. ‘I guess the world has me to blame for that.’ She grumbled with a gentle pout.

‘I don’t. I think the gift that you have is extraordinary.’ He smiled at her softly, ‘If you don’t feel like carrying the burden of how the world thinks of you, we can always switch?’

Ororo laughed and shook her head, ‘I don’t think I’d manage well with being one of the heaviest mutants on Earth. I’m already clumsy as is. Me falling will send me to hell I’m sure.’ The both of them laughed once more before they grew quiet again. ‘Thanks.’ 

Since she’s been conscious, Logan has been making it his responsibility to make her feel as comfortable as possible. It was the right thing to do. She came from an entirely different world and landed dead center in another one. He couldn’t imagine going through something like that alone, so he’d figured that she didn’t have to.

‘I want you to meet some friends of mine.’

Raising a brow, Ororo laced her fingers together. ‘Friends? You mean—‘

‘Yes, them. I don’t know what happened to the Xavier on your world but, there’s one here… and he can help you with controlling your abilities.’

A soft smile curled on her lips. It was a thoughtful gesture. She couldn’t really say that she was surprised. Beneath that hard exterior, her James was just as kind. ‘My X—…’ she sighed softly as the memories played back in her head. 

It was a death she could never really heal from. He was like a father to all of them. And she would’ve never thought she would’ve been the one to do it.

‘Professor Xavier died long before…’ she bit into her bottom lip and glanced away.

‘Before?’ Logan pressed as he placed his large hand at the center of her back.

His touch had seemed to bring her back to reality. She blinked away the tears and cleared her throat when she felt herself choking. She knew that she was gonna have to talk about it eventually. She couldn’t be reticent about her past forever. 

Soft thunder grumbled in the distance causing Logan to look up at the sky. Once again, the sun vanished and light gray clouds took its place. 

‘Here, let’s go inside. I heard ladies like tea. I think I have chamomile.’ He held his hand out for her to grab.

A feeble smile curled up on Ororo’s features. This look had come quite familiar to him. He witnessed it everyday. But perhaps today, he would try playing a part where he can bring joy behind her smile, instead of sadness and dismay.

Instead of taking his hand, she gave him a nod and walked towards the patio doors and pulled it open. 

Logan watched her walk into the house before scooping up the glass that she left behind and followed suit. He closed the slide door behind him before placing the cup into the sink. Then, he filled up the tea kettle and placed it on the burner. 

Ororo plopped down on his recliner and pulled her feet beneath her as her grief became her ailment once again. Her brown eyes were sad and she sported this foreboding frown. 

She sat there, her mind thinking about the day that Charles died. Things weren’t supposed to go down that way. Jean was supposed to willingly come home with them. She was supposed to get help. But Magneto was there. And he brought back up with him.

‘Here.’ Logan deep voice uttered as he held the mug out towards her. 

Ororo looked up at him before taking the warm mug into her hands. She gave him a hesitant smile before turning her attention away once again. 

He walked to the sectional that sat across from her. ‘I see you’re comfortable?’ 

She was dumping her tea bag into the water so the herbs could soak better. ‘Hmm?’ 

‘The recliner. You like it?’

Ororo gave him another fake smile, ‘Yes, it sits well.’ Her bleakness was quite telling. He knew that when she became cold and short, that she was more than likely fighting her inner demons. Those demons being the torturous memories of her past life. The good and the bad.

Logan sat there quietly, his elbows resting on his knees, slouching over with his silver dog tags hanging as he tried to figure out what to say to her. One would think after losing so many people, he would know what to say to her. But it was different when one of the people that she’d lost was actually him in another timeline.

‘You don’t have to say anything…’ she said softly as she toyed with her tea bag, swirling it around in the now flavorful hot water. 

‘Huh?’

Ororo’s eyes flickered up from the substance in the mug to his face, ‘You don’t have to say… anything.’ She paused, ‘I’ve been here for almost two months and you deserve to know more of the truth.’

He sat up straight, looking up at the ceiling when the storm caused the lights to flicker on and off. He then glanced down at her, ‘Uh— you sure you wanna talk about this? The um—‘

‘It’s fine.’ Rain began to beat down on the roof of the cabin and its windows. It would’ve made the perfect lullaby, but they wouldn’t be doing much sleeping tonight.

‘Jean Grey… killed Charles Xavier where I’m from. And she’s also dead… because James killed her.’

Logan’s face hardened at the news. He was taken aback from it. The people that were alive and well on this Earth, were dead and gone on hers. ‘Wh-How did she do it? Was he not-‘

‘No. Previously before Jean’s death, she died before that… or so we thought. Drowned at the bottom of a lake to save us. She killed Scott—‘

‘Cyclops?!’ He sounded a little less surprised this time.

‘Yes… her lover.’

‘Pfft, well. That would make sense he’s a dick.’ He uttered before taking a sip of his tea and placing it on a coaster. 

Just as she thought he’d say. That alone caused a tiny smile to quirk up on her lips for a short moment before she nodded, ‘Anyway, she was brought back to the school so she could be nursed back to health. But when she came back she… she didn’t come back whole. Someone— something else resided within her. She was cold, evil, impulsive— just out of control.’ 

Logan was listening intently.

‘Magneto—‘

‘Tuh—‘ Logan clicked his tongue as he sat back against the sofa, ‘He a problem in every damn universe?! Jesus Christ!’ 

As much as she wanted to laugh, Ororo kept herself under control. This was a serious conversation and it was a very important moment for her. ‘Unfortunately so. Magneto got ahold of Jean. Thinking that he could manipulate her into standing side by side with aiding the civil war against the humans for the cure.’ 

‘The cure? You mean like…?’

‘Yes, exactly what you’re thinking.’ 

Logan never understood the thought process behind “curing” mutants. But he felt that mutants had the right to protect themselves from those who wished to do them harm. 

But the code of honor of the X-Men went against that principle because then, they appear to be what the humans paint them out to be. The fine line between them had often crossed when he was involved. 

‘But even she was too powerful for him. We went to Jean’s childhood home in hopes of bringing her back to New York. But we were already too late. Magneto was there and things got out of hand.’ Her heart ached as she remembered just seeing his suit laying there before her and James. ‘Magneto’s men kept us busy and by the time James  got to them… Charles was… dead.’ Tears filled her eyes but she quickly wiped them away with her thumb.

‘Wh-‘ he began, ‘Ororo, I’m sorry to hear that. That must’ve been… that must’ve been very hard for the team. I couldn’t imagine losing him like that. And Jean… man. That was deep.’ He let out a shuddered breath.

‘Yeah…’ she trailed off before looking down at her tea again. ‘Then uh— a few years later, the sentinels took over and well— that’s how I got here.’

‘Sentinels? I’ve heard you mumble their name in your sleep.’ Logan paused and narrowed his eyes, ‘What were they?’

Looking back up at Logan, she instantly was reminded of their appearance when she heard their name. They were what fueled her nightmares. They held nothing behind their eyes. No compassion, no feelings not once or ever. They were created out of hate and were programmed to do a job that the humans had been trying to do for centuries.

Swallowing her spit she started, ‘In 1973, Mystique murdered Senator Robert Kelly.’

‘Good!’ Logan said cheerily, ‘He’s also a Grade A dick.’

‘No, not good. He was proposing a bill… a bill that the government would create an army of robots to eliminate the race of mutants. The United States was kind of hesitant at first and considered it such an inhumane situation. But all he had to do was die. So, after his death they hunted her down but not because she was a fugitive but because she possessed something that could aid the cause.’ She sighed softly before continuing, ‘Her ability to take the appearance of anyone and even possessing their abilities.’

‘When they caught her… they killed her. They took her DNA and remodeled it around the idea of “Mutants are dangerous and shall be put down, no ifs ands or butts about it.”. And so, the Sentinels reigned. They began with the lookers… anyone that didn’t fit the human appearance. But that didn’t matter anyway, because they even put humans on their hunting list.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ He murmured as he ran his hands over his face. 

‘He wasn’t there… all hope for that was gone. We had an idea to go back in time to right the wrongs. But they found us out and killed everyone except me and James. We got away but then they found us again by detecting our abilities. Strange created this portal but no one knew where it led to. But they were already waiting for us there. Those damn things… always one step ahead.’ She scoffed and shook her head. 

Go!!! I’ll hold them off!

No, no, no, no! I’m not leaving you, James!

You have to, Storm. If you don’t then who will continue our legacy?! You have to go!

His words stung just as they did then. She didn’t want to leave him behind. The intention was for both of them to go. But James made for a hell of a distraction. Tears fell down her face and she sniffed.

Logan automatically put two and two together. Because if James wasn’t here but she was… the unthinkable happened.

‘He sacrificed himself to save you.’ 

She wiped her tears and nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘Fuck. Jesus — Storm, Ororo. I’m sorry. That’s… that’s rough.’ He sighed as he tore his eyes away from her. After absorbing all of that information, anyone would think she was losing her mind or perhaps it may have been a figment of her imagination. But her behavior. The nightmares, her grief. 

Even he felt the pain from all of her loss. No one could fake something like that.

‘I don’t — I don’t even know what to say other than… you are probably the strongest person I’ve ever met.’ 

Ororo scoffed and wiped her nose, ‘Thank you, Logan. I just thought I’d never be without him… y’know?’ 

Logan cleared his throat and nodded, ‘Well uh…You’re not exactly without him. He’s with you in spirit.’ 

A smile curled up on her face softly and as she nodded in agreement, ‘Yes, yes I suppose he is.’

***

Their conversations about their contributions to society had been drawn into the night. They laughed and talked about what the craziest things they’ve done to save people and the craziest things they’ve seen in general. 

‘Well, I’m gonna shower. I’ll be out for dinner in a little while.’ Ororo gave him a smile; now cheered up after the much needed talk. She placed her empty mug down on the coaster and pulled herself up from the comfortable chair and started down the hall. Then she stopped in her tracks and turned back around to face him. ‘Oh, Logan—‘ 

He’d picked up their mugs by their handles and stood up before turning around to face her. ‘Yeah?’

‘Thank you… for everything.’ The rain had come to a light drizzle and the thunder ceased to exist. A big pretty grin curled up on her lips before she spun around and walked towards the bathroom. 

As he watched her walk away, he let out a gentle sigh as he felt his heart palpitate in his chest. The uneasy feeling caused him to clear his throat. 

She stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. She felt like there was a time for a change. Time for her to start the process of moving on and healing the way she wanted. 

Memories of James running his fingers through her locks and how he’d learned how to braid her hair so it would stay out of her way when they’d fight. How he used to tug it when…

Opening the medical cabinet, she rummaged in there until she found a pair of surgical scissors. Bringing the legs into her fist, she contemplated what she was about to do. Doing this, would be the start of cutting the old James out of her life… and letting the new one in. 

Taking the scissors to the spots where the dreads began, Ororo began to snip them off until she was left with nothing but a small pixie Afro. She felt lighter physically and metaphorically. She'd miss all of her hair. It was down her back and it became a part of her identity. But it was time that she made a new one for herself.

Scooping up all of the hair, she placed them in the bathroom’s waste bucket. 

Ororo couldn’t believe what she’d done. Taking scissors to her hair like that; hair that was way past her rump and took her 15 years to grow.

But she wanted to start anew. There was no escaping her new life and it was time she stopped running from it and heal the right away. And to do that, she had to let him in.

Her brushed out hair. It was cute and brought out the roundness in her face. It also made her appear youthful. 

She turned on the hot and cold knob before stepping into the spacious walk in shower. She reached over and grabbed her body wash, lathered it up in an African bathing net and began to scrub herself as if she were cleansing herself of her past instead.

Mmm, you smell so good.

Tell me how you want it baby.

That’s it, my little storm cloud.

Ororo shut her eyes, ‘Mmph!’ She hummed as she felt a familiar tingling sensation in her lower belly. She let out a gentle whimper as titillating memories clouded her mind.

Her heartbeat began to pick up when his voice flooded her ears. This was James' favorite place. It’s where he would wash off the labors and hardships of the day or in some cases, weeks. And it was also James’ favorite place to fuck. She could practically feel the ghost of his hands all over her body. Gentle sighs and suppressed moans rumbled in her chest as her hands followed while the water rinsed away her suds.

Meanwhile down the hall in the living room…

Logan was sitting on his leather recliner where she’d left him after their emotional conversation. His reading glasses rested at the tip of his nose as he read some of his mail. ‘Yadda, yadda—‘ Then he paused. A particular scent filled the air. Taking over his senses that instantly caused goosebumps to trickle over his skin.

Then, the whimpering and whining followed. 

With his own heart ramming out of control, he took off his glasses and let out a deep, shaky breath. He could feel his animalistic urges creeping up on him. And the more he tried to conceal them, the more carnal they became. His body began to heat up and his cheeks became flush. 

‘OK—‘ Logan grumbled as he ran his fingers through his curly locks. ‘Just be… cool. You’ve been around plenty of women.’ Well, she happened to be the first woman he’s been attracted to in a while. 

‘I want you so bad right now!’ She whispered.

He snapped his head towards the door down the hall. An unwarranted growl vibrated in his chest as he slowly began to give into his lascivious urges.

‘God, please don’t make me do this.’ He uttered to himself as he brought his hair into both of his fists and tugged at it; walking into the opposite direction to walk out the front door. 

But as soon as she called his name…

‘Mmm, James!’

That was the green light for him. ‘Goddammit.’ He hissed as he quickly tore off the wife beater, then his belt and jeans. Socks and his briefs were gone by the time he’d even made it to the bathroom door. 

Not even bothering to knock, he gently pushed the door open to see her brown silhouette through the patterned shower glass door. Glancing to the right was her long white dreadlocks sitting in the trash can. He’d be sure to ask why she got rid of them later. But right now, he had more pressing matters that he must attend to.

Ororo was in a deep trance as her own hands made love to her body as if they were James’ instead. A mewl left her lips as she unknowingly turned to face him in the shower; putting on a show for him.

Inhaling deeply at the sight of her gorgeous body he could feel the familiar numbness creeping up his spine. He watched as the water trickled down the peaks and valleys of her body. Oh how he’d wished he were in its place instead. To be able to touch her like that. 

He also took note of the battle scars she possessed and the others that came naturally; her stretch marks on her hips and waist, thighs, her belly and breasts. God she was perfect. Logan swallowed before he slammed the shower door hard enough to grasp her attention.

Her eyes slowly opened as a harsh gasp escaped her chest. She quickly covered her pretty brown tits with her arm and hid her crotch with her free hand and thigh. ‘Logan! What are you doing?!’

‘You called, I came.’ He said as he took a step forward.

She took a step back, ‘I—I did not! I—I said…’ Ororo looked up into his dilated, hooded eyes. The same eyes James used to give her when it was time for him to breed her.

‘Hmm?’ He hummed as he took another step forward.

‘I said… I said James! I wasn’t—‘

‘You weren’t talking about me? Yet, I’m the only James here… and we—‘ he walked forward through the water as her back was finally pressed firmly against the cool tile. ‘We are practically the same… right?’

Practically would be an understatement. From the way they wore their hair and clothes to how he spoke. The only thing that set them apart were their eyes. And she could admit, his eyes were quite unique. Blue like the sky with just a touch of brown as if God spilled a little bit of honey into them.

‘I—I—‘ Ororo was stuck in his gaze. She felt as if she were to take her eyes off of him, she’d die. His eyes were her lifeline in this moment.

Logan brought his hand up and rested it against the wall to trap her there. ‘You’re gonna allow me to do what he can’t?’

Ororo let out a gentle shudder as she slowly dropped her hands to reveal her body to him once again, inviting him in. 

He scooped her up in his arms, earning a surprised gasp from her lips and a gentle giggle followed. ‘Fuck, you smell so good.’

She wrapped her legs around his waist, ‘So that’s how you found me out… you smelled me.’ Ororo teased.

‘I did.’ Logan smirked, ‘That’s what animals do right?’

The woman had no idea what had come over her in those next few moments, but the longer he held her in his arms like this, the more aroused she became. Leaning in, she parted her lips before slipping her tongue into his mouth. He welcomed her lips into his as their tongues instantly massaged at one another.

Had it not been for Logan holding her up in her arms, Ororo was sure that she would’ve crumbled to her knees. But it was delicate and languid as if they were exploring and learning about one another. The kiss felt familiar but so different at the same time. She ran her fingers through his wet curls as a moan rumbled in her chest. 

Logan broke the kiss and looked up at her with lust induced eyes as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. ‘I love your hair like this.’

‘Yeah?’ Ororo purred.

‘Oh yeah.’ He chuckled before meeting one another’s lips in a much more greedier, confident manner. As they devoured one another, Logan reached beneath her and began to rub at her cunt.

She gasped sharply as she ripped her lips away from his. 

‘Tell me how you want it baby.’ He uttered as he gently worked his fingers against her pussy.

Just like James.

Licking her smile, she demanded, ‘Why don't you do a taste test hmm? See if I taste as good as I smell?’

Logan grinned and placed her down on her feet, ‘I like the sound of that.’ He snatched her lips up into hers one more time before he took her hand and spun her around gently. Lightning bolts for stretch marks danced around the curvature of her juicy ass. And just like that, the growling returned.

Huffing like a hound, Logan got on his knees and assumed the position for her to mount his face. 

Being that he was still tall even on his knees, he had to help her onto his face. His mouth opened, tongue out and flat for the proper seat while his nose nestled right against her asshole.

Ororo’s head fell back as her eyes fluttered closed as a naughty little moan slipped from the home of her lips. Steadying herself, she placed her hand on his stronger shoulder as one arm held her upright. 

With her free hand, she reached behind him and ran her fingers through his semi-wet dark hair. Her toes curled as Logan began to lap and drag his thick tongue from her clit all the way to her ass.

‘Ooh fuck.’ She shuddered out as she reached up to cup her breast in her hand. 

He had a tight lock on her thighs as he let her take the reins with her hips so she could control how much pleasure she wanted to feel. But that all changed when he decided to take the control back and lick, suck and kiss on her pussy as if it were her pretty mouth instead. ‘Mmm!’ He groaned, damn she did taste even better than she smelled. 

It was like a big grizzly bear finally finding the jackpot of rich honey. And he couldn’t get enough!

‘Logan, oh—‘ she hissed as she felt the tingling sensation in her clit as he began to suck and flick his tongue over the sensitive numb. ‘Aaaw!’ Ororo tried to move but he had her locked in so tight, she couldn’t even move if she wanted. So he kept devouring her until she finally erupted in his mouth. 

They haven’t even gotten to the penetration part of the session and she was already aspirated; out of breath and shaking from the very first orgasm that she had in what felt like forever. 

Placing kisses on her inner thigh as they shook, Logan unleashed her from his deathly hold and helped her unmount from his face as if it were a saddle. 

Ororo held onto his shoulder as he rose to his feet. Her knees were wobbly and she was smacking her lips together. ‘I’ve — I’ve got cottonmouth.’ She pouted up at him.

Logan towered over her as he wiped her juices off of his lips with his thumb and sucked it off. ‘You won’t have it for long.’

The shower was turned off and he had her legs wrapped around his waist again. Their tongues and mouths molted together as they indulged each other sloppily. Not being able to make it to the room, Logan carried her off to the sofa. Cool shower water dripped from their bodies and he laid her down on the couch.

When he ripped his lips away, Ororo was finally able to take in some air. She brought her trembling swollen lips between her teeth as she finally took in his body. Her desperate hands slid from his shoulders to his wet hairy chest where his dog tags rested against him. She drug her fingernails down his pecs to his abdomen. Spreading her thighs nice and wide, Logan placed one of her legs atop the cushions of the sofa. 

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Watching as her huge tits rose and fell with each anxious breath. If she hadn’t been touching him, she’d think this was all a figment of her imagination. She just couldn’t get enough of his godliness. How the droplets of water only defined his body. 

Suddenly, Logan sank his middle finger and ring finger inside of her; palm side up.

Her eyes fluttered close, whining as her head fell back against the arm of the sofa. ‘Mmm fu—oh!’ Massaging and kneading her walls from the inside out, Logan pressed his thumb against her clit and rubbed it in circles to add to the pressure. Low animalistic growls echoed in his chest and his black pupils were the size of marbles.

This was no longer the Logan that she felt comfortable with but an animal with one purpose. To mate and breed.

‘S-shit—‘ Ororo stuttered as she looked between her thighs to watch him finger fuck her g-spot. ‘Ooooh Logan! I’m gonna cum!’ She wailed; her legs twitched and spasmed as he stroked her sweet spot. Her eyes fluttered up to look at him as her body began to tense against her will. ‘Oh—GOD!’ Heaving fast as her eyes dropped down to the massive member that stood high in attention; leaking with his own pre-cum. The way it throbbed and jumped as Logan edged her on further. 

A filthy, guttural cry escaped from her lips; her hips rose as he continued to rub it out of her. ‘Fuuuuck!’ She crooned. Dropping her hips back down onto the sofa; breathless as all get out. Ororo watched as he gently tugged his thick fingers out of her. Covered in her sweet stickiness, he wielded no hesitation as he sucked his fingers clean. 

Was she in disbelief? Yes. But surprised? Not really. 

Were they this disgusting in every universe? 

Snarling at her tart taste, he snatched her waist and pulled her closer. Taking a hold of his long, girthy cock, he slapped the erected muscle against her clit. A gentle groan left his lips as he rubbed himself against her clit. God, he was losing it. 

‘Logan.’ Ororo whined out.

His head snapped up as his ears perked up at the sound of his name. Like an excited puppy. So exhilarated, that if he had a tail it would wag violently. But he didn’t let his excitement get in the way of the true task at hand.

‘Beg.’ He demanded.

Ororo let out a shuddered sigh as she watched him grab one of her ankles in his large hand. ‘Pl-please?’ Her lips pouted just a little and she never took her gaze off of his.

Logan growled lowly in approval, ‘Good.’ Adjusting his hips, he placed his hand behind her thigh, right above the back of her knee. He kept her legs spread as he pressed his fat mushroom tip against her slit. Her needy pussy pulled him in a warm embrace, earning a loud grunt from him. 

She hiccuped as she inhaled too much air as she felt the pressure and pleasure merge into one. ‘Mmmmph!’ Her thighs began to tremble the deeper and deeper he descended. ‘Ugh!’ 

He gritted his teeth together as his eyes fluttered shut. He wiggled his hips a little as he made room for himself inside of her. ‘Grrr—od—‘ he let groaned eagerly as he finally bottomed out within her. ‘—Dammit!’ 

Goosebumps covered their bodies as if they were connected to one another. He leaned down and pressed another sloppy kiss on her lips. As their lips collided, he stalled his hips as her comfortable walls held him tightly. 

Breaking the kiss, Logan looked down into her eyes as he pulled his hips back and rolled them into her. A strangled moan left her lips as she looked up into his animalistic crazed eyes. His dog tags dangled and rocked above her as he began to slowly pick up the pace of his hips. 

‘Ooh, Logan. Shit yes!’ The heaviness of his hips ramming into her was so familiar. It left her in a reminiscence of how James used to train her to take him the way she was supposed to. 

You have to get used to me lightning bolt. Fuck.

And so she did! Who knew that he was prepping her for this moment? 

Logan pumped his hips in and out of her like an animal in heat. Husky grunts and groans fell from his lips as his large hands held the back of her thighs. He was so deep inside of her this way. 

‘Mmm, so fucking wet for me. Shit!’ He sputtered as he dropped his dick into her deeper again while his hairy balls smacked against her puckered asshole.

A high pitched shriek left her lips in surprise when he began to beat at her cervix. Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she rested her hands atop his for leverage and squeezed tightly. Sweet aspirated grunts and mewls graced her lips as she bit into her bottom lip. She was holding back screams and sobs.

And when Logan noticed that, he brought his hips to a sudden stop. He leaned in close to her, his nose touching hers; eyeing her carnally. ‘You can scream… it’s not like anyone will hear you.’ Now he was determined to snatch her voice by the end of the night. 

Ororo didn’t know if she was turned on or scared. Perhaps she was both but he placed a sweet kiss on her lips, she was reassured that he would take good care of her. 

Logan began to pick up the pace again, earning a string of filthy curse words from his Goddess lover. His body pounded into hers as he panted harshly; mirroring the sound of the thunder claps outside. Lightning struck very close to the cabin as he fucked her so stupid, she couldn’t even form words. 

‘Fu—huck, ye— eah! Mmm, uh!’ She looked down between them, watching as his dick delved balls deep into her over and over again. Her chest heaved as her hooded eyes peered back up at him. ‘My Gods, Yes! James!’ Ororo tightened her hold on his hands as he began to fuck harder, faster. 

A loud and rough groan left Logan’s lips before he nestled his furry face into her neck where he placed gentle kisses. ‘Fuuuuck—‘ he grumbled as he retreated his hips and pulled his cock all the way out. 

Huffing heavily, he found himself dripping with precum again. ‘Jesus fucking— look at what you’re doing to me.’ He laughed mirthlessly. He sounded so esurient though; hungry and desperate for her. Logan was losing his mind. 

A tiny giggle left her lips before he slipped his sticky dick right back inside of her. Her back arched as he made home within her again. Her whining came shortly afterwards. ‘Fuck. Me. Logan! Yes! James! Yes!’ Part of her felt like she was fucking the old James. But something about how inhuman this one fucked her was brand new. He was relentless! Diligent and persistent in how he pleased her. 

James used to give her a moment to catch her breath but this one wasn’t so kind. 

He was desperate to please her and that's all he gave a damn about. 

Mine, mine, mine. 

‘Mine, mine, mine!’ He growled hungrily.

Just like him. 

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as their bodies began to heat up with their salacious work out. She brought her face into her hands, digging her nails into his cheeks as he began to steal her breath away. Her mouth fell as her womb began to twist. Her walls began to tremble and her spine grew numb. A silent moan escaped her lips as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Logan hissed as she began to draw blood when she clawed at his cheeks; healing just as fast as the wounds opened. But he never turned his attention from her. It only fueled that beastly desire more! ‘Yeah, that’s it baby! Cum on that dick!’ He gritted through his teeth; his warm flesh covered in a thin sheet of sweat and the veins in his neck popped into view. ‘C’mon!’ 

A tear fell down the side of her face as he stole another orgasm from her. ‘OH FUCK!’ She’d finally released a loud sob from her chest as he rutted into her as if it were his last time. 

The pair fucked as if they were trying to build a family. Nasty, naughty sex filled their evening which landed them on the floor, and the bedroom. Ororo left Logan empty with nothing else to give. Logan beat down Ororo’s walls til her orgasms had become painful. They’ve done everything from Doggy style (Logan’s favorite) to Cowgirl. They were spent.

Laying in the king size bed, tucked beneath the warmth of the comforters, Logan had his heavy arm draped around her holding her close. Ororo smiled softly as her head rested against his hairy chest. She gently picked up his silver dog tags and ran her thumb over the numbers. All of the numbers but the last two were completely different from James. 

‘You’re still thinking about him?’

‘Who?’

Turning his head to look at her, he raised a brow with a small smirk curled on his lips.

Letting out a gentle sigh, ‘I’m only thinking about you.’ Part of that was true. She was thinking about him and how mind blowing their sex was. But she was also thinking about him. Not in the way one would think. 

Ororo was coming to terms that this was going to be her new life now. Everyone she’s ever known in her previous life or… timeline was gone. There was nothing left for her on that Earth anymore but here, she could make something of herself. She could get her power back under control. She could heal and live a happy life. By his side. 

Looking up at him, her small smile had turned into a grin. And when he’d return that grin, she giggled happily. Logan ran his thick fingers through her short white coils. ‘I really do like your hair like this, thundercloud.’ 

Her dimples deepened in her cheeks at the nickname. ‘Good, then I shall keep it that way.’ 

Stay there.

Honorable Tags: @milknhonies @capswife @augustsprincess @peternoonewantsthat @raccoon-eyed-rebel @multi-culti-girl @multiversxwhore

[katsuko1978]

Yep, title is from Huey Lewis and the News. You know which song.

[peyton-warren]

Cavillrine Masterlist

Key

😥: Angst / Hurt; 😍: Fluff; 🔥: Smut/Suggestive; 👊: Violence; 🥹: Requested; 💚 :Personal Favorite; 🤓: Challenges; 🤔: Ask

💯: Completed , ✍🏼 : Work in Progress , ❌ :Hiatus

Blood In the Water: 😥🔥🤔🥹💯 Reader and Cavillrine come to an impasse, or do you?

[peyton-warren]

Help a girl break her writer's block

I have been fighting bad writer's block for a while (years). And dealing with some mental health issues. So I am running away this weekend to a place with no cell service, just mountains and a river and a tent and my dog, with a brand new notebook and a pretty pen that writes beautifully.

Now here's where you come in....

I need prompts. I need new prompts. I wanna ignore my WIPs and dive into new stuff, drabbles, one shots, what have you to get my writer's block out of the way. I'm hoping by doing this it'll help me get back into the stories I know some of you are patiently waiting for me to finish (Blinded by the Fog, The Art of Resilience, Stick Handling ).

So send me your thoughts, thots and prompts for our favorite muses. You have til Thursday Night (Mountain Time Zone in North America) to make it into my new notebook.

Here's a list of characters I will write for/ want to write for.

Anders Lassen

Aril Levinson

Billy Butcher

Cavillrine 

Curtis Everett

Daryl Dixon

David “Deacon” Kay 

Dean Winchester

Eddie Munson

Evan Marshall

Franklin Clay

Geralt of Rivia

Gus March-Phillipps

Hannibal King 

Jake Jensen

James 'Logan" Howlett/ Wolverine

Lloyd Hansen

Ransom Drysdale

Raymond Smith

Sherlock Holmes (Cavill Version)

Syverson

Wade Wilson/ Deadpool

Walter Marshall

Tagging my tag lists for more traction. Please reblog and share.

General Tag List: @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire, @jvanilly, @identity2212, @avengersfan25,

@ellethespaceunicorn @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 , @cynic-spirit , @rosecentury Anders Lassen Tag List: @wunder-blunder Blinded by the Fog Tag List: @mis-lil-red, @sconnie-doesnt-know, @ronearoundblindly @toooldforobsessions , @hooomansstuff HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn @summersong69, @sillyrabbit81 @mistressmkay Syverson tag list: @mrsevans90 Between a Wolf & Hard Place Tag List: @zealoushound Hidden Sun Tag List: @enchantedbytomandhenry @red42985 @liecastillo @lokislittlewarrior @littleone65

@inlovewithhisblueeyes

[peyton-warren]

Wolverine/James 'Logan" Howlett Masterlist

Key

😥: Angst / Hurt 😍: Fluff🔥: Smut/Suggestive 👊: Violence 🥹: Requested 💚 :Personal Favorite🤓: Challenges 🤔: Ask

💯: Completed , ✍ : Work in Progress , ❌ :Hiatus

State of Glass: 🔥😥💯 Reader seeks solace in her husband's embrace, only to have her insecurities find their way to the surface.

Hands on: 🔥😥💯🤓 Marie watches Logan pleasure himself. or attempts to.

Like what you see? Visit my Main Master List for more, Send me a request, Ask to be added to my Tag Lists, and check out my AO3 where older fics are hiding.

[peyton-warren]

Masterlist- Updated September 6, 2024

Write mostly Henry Cavill Characters at the moment, a few characters from Chris Evans fandom (but no RPF), and am dipping my toes into other fandoms including Stranger Things, and it'll be a cold day in hell when I let go of Supernatural. If you have any prompts/ request that you would like me to attempt, feel free to send them to me.

Ari Levinson's Masterlist

Colin Shea's Masterlist

Curtis Everett's Masterlist

Jake Jensen's Masterlist

Ransom Drysdale's Masterlist

Captain Syverson Masterlist

Geralt Masterlist

Walter Marshall Masterlist

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Anders Lassen Masterlist

Cavillrine Masterlist

Deadpool/ Wade Wilson Masterlist- Coming soon Hannibal King Masterlist- Coming Soon

Wolverine/ James "Logan" Howlett Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

David "Deacon" Kay Masterlist

Tight Spaces 💚😍🔥You are out at a party in NYC with the love of your life. And he mercilessly tortures you through the evening. Written for a women's erotica magazine that never happened.

Like what you see? Send me a request, Ask to be added to my Tag Lists, and check out my AO3 where older fics are hiding.

[changenameno]

THAT WAS BADASS!!! God the reader character is so darn cool! The way you clothed them 🤩🤩could picture it all so well…

Don’t know how to describe it, but the whole vibe of this story made me giddy, absolutely loved it! 😍

Of course this was fiercely and deliciously hot as well!!!🥵🥵🤭

All in all, soooo well written!!!👏👏👏😍😍

On my way to meet Logan:

Nothing More Than An Animal

Title: Nothing More Than An Animal

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, unwanted attention, bar fight, Wolvie being Wolvie, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, claw kink

Beta: @peyton-warren

A/N: The title is taken from this quote from Savage Wolverine #13: “Most people think I'm nothing more than an animal!” Thank you to my amazing beta, Peyton, for giving me this idea in the first place.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You couldn’t help yourself. You stand across the street from the biker bar, a flickering streetlamp above you casting an off-white haze. The only thing keeping you from entering the establishment is your sense of self-preservation. This place, Torque Tavern, screams danger. But that only draws you in further.

You’re dressed in your usual style: your favorite Joan Jett shirt with the sleeves cut off, a denim jacket, a pair of figure-hugging black jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens boots. While normally you walk around with a sense of power, tonight was different.

A chill in the air makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You step off the curb into a dirty puddle, crossing the street after looking both ways. With your hand on the bar door, you pull it open and step inside.

The smell of stale beer and tobacco smoke hits your nostrils as the door closes behind you. A dozen heads turn to you, and your heart pounds. You look across the dimly lit room and notice one person who hasn’t paid you any attention, sitting on a stool at the L-shaped bar. You walk up and sit on a stool, a couple of seats away from the large man.

While you wait for the bartender to attend to you, you peek at the behemoth that sits near you. Wild, dark hair that comes to a point on each side, bushy sideburns, and a non-connecting beard outline his face. A white tank top stretches across his wide, thick frame. Bulbous, sweaty biceps glisten in the glow of the lights behind the bar. Hairy, veiny forearms lead down to strong hands: one grips around a lowball of amber liquid so tight that his knuckles are white, and the other balances a fat cigar between two fingers.

“Take a picture, bub, it’ll last longer,” the stranger says, letting out a plume of smoke from his chapped lips before turning his tidepool blue eyes on you.

After a few seconds that feel like minutes, you’re finally able to turn around and look away, mumbling an apology. You can still feel his eyes on you for a bit before he turns back to his drink and his solitude.

Your eyes shoot up once the bartender knocks on the bartop in front of you. “What’ll you have?”

“Uh, yeah. Moosehead and a shot of J.P. Wiser’s,” you reply, unsurprised when the bartender raises a brow at you. He then shrugs, cracks open a bottle of lager, and sets it in front of you. Grabbing a shot glass, he pours you a bit of the blended whiskey.

As soon as the light golden liquor is pushed toward you, you lift it and inhale the vanilla aroma. Tossing it back, the taste of licorice and cinnamon cascades over your tongue and down your throat. You exhale the burn and turn your attention to your lager.

You notice the murmurs behind you. A chair is pushed away from a table, and heavy boots are walking up behind you. A strong hand lands on your shoulder, and you freeze. “Hey, doll. Can I buy you a drink?”

You hold up your beer and decline, “I’m fine, honey.”

“Aw, come on. Just one drink. Promise I don’t bite, ‘less you want me to,” the source of the voice laughs, coming around to lean on the bar between you and the cigar-smoking stranger, his bald head glistening in the low light as he strokes his long, scraggly beard. His beer belly is barely contained in a Limp Bizkit shirt. This man is a walking red flag, and you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Look, pal. Let me enjoy the drink I have, ok? This is my one fucking night off this week, and I’m not in the mood to let you ruin it with any of your shitty pick-up lines or the promise of hanging out with you and the rest of the rejects from Sons of Anarchy, got it?” You surprised yourself by bellowing these words to a stranger, one who could probably benchpress you with ease.

You flinch as his expression turns dark and he raises a hand. “You stuck-up little bitch, I ought to—”

The cigar-smoking stranger interrupts, seizing him by the throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground as if he were a mere feather. While holding him aloft with one hand, the other hand balls into a fist while sharp blades appear from his knuckles.

He’s a mutant! You’d never seen anyone use their abilities up close, but now a man with incredible strength and metal claws is gallantly defending your honor.

“I think the lady has everything she needs, so why don’t you and your little friends scurry along before I get really angry and carve you up in front of everyone, eh?”

The sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked has every head whipping to the bartender. “Get out of my bar, freak!”

The mutant simply turns and deposits the asshole on the ground in a crumpled mess. Blowing another puff of smoke into the ceiling, he throws back the rest of his drink before grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and walking out. Halfway to the door, he turns to you and asks, “You coming or what, bub?”

You couldn’t scramble off your stool quick enough after he challenged you to follow him. Stepping over the man left on the floor, you scurry after your mutant savior. Once back in the night air, you look over as he stuffs the bottle into the storage of his Harley-Davidson. As he swings his leg over the bike and settles into the seat, you can't help but notice the bike sagging under his weight, as if he weighs a ton.

He turns back to his storage, taking out a helmet and holding it out to you. You’ve seen enough movies to know that riding with a stranger is a dumb idea. However, if that mysterious stranger happens to be attractive and cruising on a Harley, who could resist the allure of a thrilling adventure?

Taking the helmet, you pull it down over your head and lift a leg to get onto the bike behind him. As he turns the key, you clench your thighs at the vibration and wrap your arms around his waist.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” he informs.

“Oh, this isn’t tight," you remark, suddenly realizing that you don't know what to call this man. You offer your name, and he repeats it before giving his own.

“The name’s Logan.” He drops his cigar butt on the asphalt and stubs it out with his boot before putting up the kickstand and backing out of the parking spot. He revs the engine, and you are off on your way to wherever Logan wants to take you.

The drive is smooth, the city whizzing past you as Logan speeds down the highway. You end up at a garage that houses a few more Harleys in various states of repair. Logan puts the kickstand down and lets you get off the bike first. He watches as you take off the helmet and look around at where he’s taken you.

Exiting the bike, he takes the helmet when you hold it out to him. You don’t miss the way his fingers lingered on yours for a beat. He takes the bottle out of his bike pack and takes a hefty swig, then hands it to you.

You read the label, ‘Forty Creek Confederation Oak’, and put the bottle to your lips. Tipping it, you are delighted to taste the honey flavor. Handing him the bottle, you hold the liquor in your mouth until it starts to burn, and then you swallow and exhale the nutty finish.

He appears to be quite taken aback that you managed to drink without gagging, and his intrigue deepens as you begin to move closer into his personal space. The warmth in your chest from the alcohol has you feeling full and content. The heat coming off of his body as you stand close enough to breathe in his air has you feeling something completely overwhelming: pheromone-induced arousal.

Your libido is making itself known as you watch him watch you. Unable to stop your hands, they find themselves smoothing up his tank-covered torso until you tug at the collar. He gets the hint and sets the bottle down before removing his shirt.

You encounter a soft, furry chest that invites you to sink your fingers into its warmth. Tightening your digits in the hair on his pretty pecs, you revel in the growl he makes. He then levels the playing field, grabbing you by the nape of the neck with one large paw and bringing your face to his.

As you part your lips, a soft whimper slips out, unable to be contained, while he teasingly brushes his tongue against your lower lip. Growling again, he dips further to slot your mouth with his. He devours the moans that come out of you as he grabs a handful of your ass, chuckling into the kiss as you let him take the lead. His tongue licks into your mouth, and you feel drunk on his whiskey-laden kiss.

Breaking the kiss, he pushes down on your shoulders until you are kneeling at his feet. You start to unfasten his tight-fitting jeans, but he swats your hands away.

“Not yet, bub,” he warns. “I wanna try something.”

With that, he has you pass him the bottle. He takes a drink and then holds your cheek against his denim-covered cock. You can sense that he’s packing quite a surprise down there, and you’re eagerly anticipating the moment it’s unleashed.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

You watch as he takes the bottle and pours about a shot’s worth of liquor over his chest. Watching as the liquid washes over him, you are more than eager to taste it directly from his skin. After you’ve cleaned his chest of all traces, he takes another drink. This time, he holds your face by the jaw and leans down, spitting the whiskey directly into your mouth.

You gulp it down eagerly, on the verge of pleading for another sip, when he scoops you up from the ground and twirls you around, positioning you over the bike you arrived on. He yanks down your jeans, your panties going with them. He lands a slap on each cheek before you hear him unzip his pants and feel his heavy dick teasing your clit.

He kicks your legs open further, pulls your denim jacket off, and lines himself up with your soaked entrance. Sliding in, he hisses at the heat of your tightness. You whine at his girth, stretching you more than any other cock you’ve ever taken. Once he bottoms out, the tip kisses your cervix, and his hairy ball sac rests against your puffy pussy. He pauses to let you get used to his size, but as he continues to take his time, it seems he is just tormenting you.

“Logan, please. Need you to move,” you plead, wiggling your hips to get any kind of friction.

You don’t see the toothy grin that covers his face, but you know by the way he tightens his grip on your hips that he is about to fuck you ten ways from Sunday.

Gradually withdrawing his hips, he eases out until only the tip of his shaft stays nestled within you, and then he thrusts back in with force. Doing it again, and then again, he pauses after each thrust to tease you. But on the third plunge, he doesn’t stop; he just keeps driving into you.

The rhythmic sounds of your sweat-soaked skin colliding form a captivating tune, harmonizing with the slick, squelching rhythm of his thrusts deep inside you. Coupled with Logan's deep, primal growls and your breathy moans, it creates an intoxicating symphony of desire.

You sense one of his hands sliding away from your hip, pushing your top up your back, and then a sharp SNIKT! pierces the air. You almost turn to inquire where the sound came from, but you soon feel something razor-sharp and hot to the touch sliding down your back. Once you realize that he’s touching you with his claws, you’re overcome with arousal, and your walls flutter around him. He fucks you through your orgasm and retracts his claws.

He slows his hips, pulling out and moving you both over to a nearby armchair. Sitting down first, he crooks a finger at you, and you remove your jeans and boots before straddling his hips. As you lower yourself onto him, you feel him fill you once more, the sensation overwhelming as you settle in.

You close your eyes and begin to ride him slower than before. Before you know it, you feel hot steel, or what you assume to be steel, at your neck and open your eyes to see his fist a few inches from your face. The claws, held within a millimeter of your jugular, glide across your skin.

“Hey, bub? You gonna keep pussyfooting around, or are you gonna ride this cock like the good little slut I know you are?” He asks, his pupils dilated until there is barely any blue left.

Your mouth opens and closes, but there is no sound coming out besides whimpers of fear that he might push those claws through your neck. Honestly, it added an extra little something to the experience, feeling that he might cut you at any moment.

The claws disappear back into the skin between his knuckles, and instead, he wraps a hand around your neck, guiding you to ride his length exactly as he wants. Your hands hold his thick wrist as you impale yourself over and over again.

“That’s it. Ride my cock just like that,” he praises, sticking two fingers in your mouth that you gluttonously suck. He locks his gaze on yours while you reach another peak of pleasure, your inner walls tightening around him as you release a wave of warmth that cascades down his length and between his legs.

When you threaten to slow down, he fucks into you, chasing his release. At this point, you are drooling over his fingers and looking like the fucked-out little doll that you are. You can tell that he is close as his hips stutter and his brows furrow as he removes his fingers from your mouth.

“Come inside me, Logan. Want it, need it so bad,” you beg, moving your hips as he drives into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He lets out a throaty growl and buries himself to the hilt inside of you. Feeling him twitch inside you, rope after rope of his cum painting your cervix, you reach back and play with his balls.

It’s minutes before his cock softens enough to slip out of you, and you rest your head on his chest as his jizz drips from your thoroughly used hole. To your astonishment, his hand rises to gently stroke your back while you find yourself gripping his chest hair.

Little did you know, this was only round one with the big lug. He’ll let you get some shut-eye for now, but later? He’d like to fuck you on every available surface in his garage. And what he wants, he always gets.

A/N: I intentionally used a line from the X-Men (2000), but then failed at “Chekov’s Gun” sort of. But this story only has two acts. So, fuck Chekov. I hope you all enjoyed my little fuckfest here, and please do let me know what you thought!! Writers are fed by comments!

**Tag List**

@littlefreya @mrs-solo-walker @viking-raider

Let me know if you want to be added (or removed). 😁

[changenameno]

But of course!!! You’re such a great writer, you deserve every single word of praise and more!!👏🥰

Heheh yeah right, it’s so cute🤣😅

Any time!!!❤️✨

(I hope I don’t bother you with this, but could I maybe be added to your Henry Cavill Character Taglist, please?)🙈

Nothing More Than An Animal

Title: Nothing More Than An Animal

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, unwanted attention, bar fight, Wolvie being Wolvie, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, claw kink

Beta: @peyton-warren

A/N: The title is taken from this quote from Savage Wolverine #13: “Most people think I'm nothing more than an animal!” Thank you to my amazing beta, Peyton, for giving me this idea in the first place.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You couldn’t help yourself. You stand across the street from the biker bar, a flickering streetlamp above you casting an off-white haze. The only thing keeping you from entering the establishment is your sense of self-preservation. This place, Torque Tavern, screams danger. But that only draws you in further.

You’re dressed in your usual style: your favorite Joan Jett shirt with the sleeves cut off, a denim jacket, a pair of figure-hugging black jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens boots. While normally you walk around with a sense of power, tonight was different.

A chill in the air makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You step off the curb into a dirty puddle, crossing the street after looking both ways. With your hand on the bar door, you pull it open and step inside.

The smell of stale beer and tobacco smoke hits your nostrils as the door closes behind you. A dozen heads turn to you, and your heart pounds. You look across the dimly lit room and notice one person who hasn’t paid you any attention, sitting on a stool at the L-shaped bar. You walk up and sit on a stool, a couple of seats away from the large man.

While you wait for the bartender to attend to you, you peek at the behemoth that sits near you. Wild, dark hair that comes to a point on each side, bushy sideburns, and a non-connecting beard outline his face. A white tank top stretches across his wide, thick frame. Bulbous, sweaty biceps glisten in the glow of the lights behind the bar. Hairy, veiny forearms lead down to strong hands: one grips around a lowball of amber liquid so tight that his knuckles are white, and the other balances a fat cigar between two fingers.

“Take a picture, bub, it’ll last longer,” the stranger says, letting out a plume of smoke from his chapped lips before turning his tidepool blue eyes on you.

After a few seconds that feel like minutes, you’re finally able to turn around and look away, mumbling an apology. You can still feel his eyes on you for a bit before he turns back to his drink and his solitude.

Your eyes shoot up once the bartender knocks on the bartop in front of you. “What’ll you have?”

“Uh, yeah. Moosehead and a shot of J.P. Wiser’s,” you reply, unsurprised when the bartender raises a brow at you. He then shrugs, cracks open a bottle of lager, and sets it in front of you. Grabbing a shot glass, he pours you a bit of the blended whiskey.

As soon as the light golden liquor is pushed toward you, you lift it and inhale the vanilla aroma. Tossing it back, the taste of licorice and cinnamon cascades over your tongue and down your throat. You exhale the burn and turn your attention to your lager.

You notice the murmurs behind you. A chair is pushed away from a table, and heavy boots are walking up behind you. A strong hand lands on your shoulder, and you freeze. “Hey, doll. Can I buy you a drink?”

You hold up your beer and decline, “I’m fine, honey.”

“Aw, come on. Just one drink. Promise I don’t bite, ‘less you want me to,” the source of the voice laughs, coming around to lean on the bar between you and the cigar-smoking stranger, his bald head glistening in the low light as he strokes his long, scraggly beard. His beer belly is barely contained in a Limp Bizkit shirt. This man is a walking red flag, and you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Look, pal. Let me enjoy the drink I have, ok? This is my one fucking night off this week, and I’m not in the mood to let you ruin it with any of your shitty pick-up lines or the promise of hanging out with you and the rest of the rejects from Sons of Anarchy, got it?” You surprised yourself by bellowing these words to a stranger, one who could probably benchpress you with ease.

You flinch as his expression turns dark and he raises a hand. “You stuck-up little bitch, I ought to—”

The cigar-smoking stranger interrupts, seizing him by the throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground as if he were a mere feather. While holding him aloft with one hand, the other hand balls into a fist while sharp blades appear from his knuckles.

He’s a mutant! You’d never seen anyone use their abilities up close, but now a man with incredible strength and metal claws is gallantly defending your honor.

“I think the lady has everything she needs, so why don’t you and your little friends scurry along before I get really angry and carve you up in front of everyone, eh?”

The sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked has every head whipping to the bartender. “Get out of my bar, freak!”

The mutant simply turns and deposits the asshole on the ground in a crumpled mess. Blowing another puff of smoke into the ceiling, he throws back the rest of his drink before grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and walking out. Halfway to the door, he turns to you and asks, “You coming or what, bub?”

You couldn’t scramble off your stool quick enough after he challenged you to follow him. Stepping over the man left on the floor, you scurry after your mutant savior. Once back in the night air, you look over as he stuffs the bottle into the storage of his Harley-Davidson. As he swings his leg over the bike and settles into the seat, you can't help but notice the bike sagging under his weight, as if he weighs a ton.

He turns back to his storage, taking out a helmet and holding it out to you. You’ve seen enough movies to know that riding with a stranger is a dumb idea. However, if that mysterious stranger happens to be attractive and cruising on a Harley, who could resist the allure of a thrilling adventure?

Taking the helmet, you pull it down over your head and lift a leg to get onto the bike behind him. As he turns the key, you clench your thighs at the vibration and wrap your arms around his waist.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” he informs.

“Oh, this isn’t tight," you remark, suddenly realizing that you don't know what to call this man. You offer your name, and he repeats it before giving his own.

“The name’s Logan.” He drops his cigar butt on the asphalt and stubs it out with his boot before putting up the kickstand and backing out of the parking spot. He revs the engine, and you are off on your way to wherever Logan wants to take you.

The drive is smooth, the city whizzing past you as Logan speeds down the highway. You end up at a garage that houses a few more Harleys in various states of repair. Logan puts the kickstand down and lets you get off the bike first. He watches as you take off the helmet and look around at where he’s taken you.

Exiting the bike, he takes the helmet when you hold it out to him. You don’t miss the way his fingers lingered on yours for a beat. He takes the bottle out of his bike pack and takes a hefty swig, then hands it to you.

You read the label, ‘Forty Creek Confederation Oak’, and put the bottle to your lips. Tipping it, you are delighted to taste the honey flavor. Handing him the bottle, you hold the liquor in your mouth until it starts to burn, and then you swallow and exhale the nutty finish.

He appears to be quite taken aback that you managed to drink without gagging, and his intrigue deepens as you begin to move closer into his personal space. The warmth in your chest from the alcohol has you feeling full and content. The heat coming off of his body as you stand close enough to breathe in his air has you feeling something completely overwhelming: pheromone-induced arousal.

Your libido is making itself known as you watch him watch you. Unable to stop your hands, they find themselves smoothing up his tank-covered torso until you tug at the collar. He gets the hint and sets the bottle down before removing his shirt.

You encounter a soft, furry chest that invites you to sink your fingers into its warmth. Tightening your digits in the hair on his pretty pecs, you revel in the growl he makes. He then levels the playing field, grabbing you by the nape of the neck with one large paw and bringing your face to his.

As you part your lips, a soft whimper slips out, unable to be contained, while he teasingly brushes his tongue against your lower lip. Growling again, he dips further to slot your mouth with his. He devours the moans that come out of you as he grabs a handful of your ass, chuckling into the kiss as you let him take the lead. His tongue licks into your mouth, and you feel drunk on his whiskey-laden kiss.

Breaking the kiss, he pushes down on your shoulders until you are kneeling at his feet. You start to unfasten his tight-fitting jeans, but he swats your hands away.

“Not yet, bub,” he warns. “I wanna try something.”

With that, he has you pass him the bottle. He takes a drink and then holds your cheek against his denim-covered cock. You can sense that he’s packing quite a surprise down there, and you’re eagerly anticipating the moment it’s unleashed.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

You watch as he takes the bottle and pours about a shot’s worth of liquor over his chest. Watching as the liquid washes over him, you are more than eager to taste it directly from his skin. After you’ve cleaned his chest of all traces, he takes another drink. This time, he holds your face by the jaw and leans down, spitting the whiskey directly into your mouth.

You gulp it down eagerly, on the verge of pleading for another sip, when he scoops you up from the ground and twirls you around, positioning you over the bike you arrived on. He yanks down your jeans, your panties going with them. He lands a slap on each cheek before you hear him unzip his pants and feel his heavy dick teasing your clit.

He kicks your legs open further, pulls your denim jacket off, and lines himself up with your soaked entrance. Sliding in, he hisses at the heat of your tightness. You whine at his girth, stretching you more than any other cock you’ve ever taken. Once he bottoms out, the tip kisses your cervix, and his hairy ball sac rests against your puffy pussy. He pauses to let you get used to his size, but as he continues to take his time, it seems he is just tormenting you.

“Logan, please. Need you to move,” you plead, wiggling your hips to get any kind of friction.

You don’t see the toothy grin that covers his face, but you know by the way he tightens his grip on your hips that he is about to fuck you ten ways from Sunday.

Gradually withdrawing his hips, he eases out until only the tip of his shaft stays nestled within you, and then he thrusts back in with force. Doing it again, and then again, he pauses after each thrust to tease you. But on the third plunge, he doesn’t stop; he just keeps driving into you.

The rhythmic sounds of your sweat-soaked skin colliding form a captivating tune, harmonizing with the slick, squelching rhythm of his thrusts deep inside you. Coupled with Logan's deep, primal growls and your breathy moans, it creates an intoxicating symphony of desire.

You sense one of his hands sliding away from your hip, pushing your top up your back, and then a sharp SNIKT! pierces the air. You almost turn to inquire where the sound came from, but you soon feel something razor-sharp and hot to the touch sliding down your back. Once you realize that he’s touching you with his claws, you’re overcome with arousal, and your walls flutter around him. He fucks you through your orgasm and retracts his claws.

He slows his hips, pulling out and moving you both over to a nearby armchair. Sitting down first, he crooks a finger at you, and you remove your jeans and boots before straddling his hips. As you lower yourself onto him, you feel him fill you once more, the sensation overwhelming as you settle in.

You close your eyes and begin to ride him slower than before. Before you know it, you feel hot steel, or what you assume to be steel, at your neck and open your eyes to see his fist a few inches from your face. The claws, held within a millimeter of your jugular, glide across your skin.

“Hey, bub? You gonna keep pussyfooting around, or are you gonna ride this cock like the good little slut I know you are?” He asks, his pupils dilated until there is barely any blue left.

Your mouth opens and closes, but there is no sound coming out besides whimpers of fear that he might push those claws through your neck. Honestly, it added an extra little something to the experience, feeling that he might cut you at any moment.

The claws disappear back into the skin between his knuckles, and instead, he wraps a hand around your neck, guiding you to ride his length exactly as he wants. Your hands hold his thick wrist as you impale yourself over and over again.

“That’s it. Ride my cock just like that,” he praises, sticking two fingers in your mouth that you gluttonously suck. He locks his gaze on yours while you reach another peak of pleasure, your inner walls tightening around him as you release a wave of warmth that cascades down his length and between his legs.

When you threaten to slow down, he fucks into you, chasing his release. At this point, you are drooling over his fingers and looking like the fucked-out little doll that you are. You can tell that he is close as his hips stutter and his brows furrow as he removes his fingers from your mouth.

“Come inside me, Logan. Want it, need it so bad,” you beg, moving your hips as he drives into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He lets out a throaty growl and buries himself to the hilt inside of you. Feeling him twitch inside you, rope after rope of his cum painting your cervix, you reach back and play with his balls.

It’s minutes before his cock softens enough to slip out of you, and you rest your head on his chest as his jizz drips from your thoroughly used hole. To your astonishment, his hand rises to gently stroke your back while you find yourself gripping his chest hair.

Little did you know, this was only round one with the big lug. He’ll let you get some shut-eye for now, but later? He’d like to fuck you on every available surface in his garage. And what he wants, he always gets.

A/N: I intentionally used a line from the X-Men (2000), but then failed at “Chekov’s Gun” sort of. But this story only has two acts. So, fuck Chekov. I hope you all enjoyed my little fuckfest here, and please do let me know what you thought!! Writers are fed by comments!

**Tag List**

@littlefreya @mrs-solo-walker @viking-raider

Let me know if you want to be added (or removed). 😁

[peyton-warren]

Ok first off, my love, thank you for writing this beauty! It is well written and LOVELY. and fucking HOOOOOOT!! (Everyone just go read it now!)

When i gave you the idea for this, I didn't know it was going to turn into this. I've been drooling on myself and dampening my desk chair at work all day as you worked on it and teased me with it. First off, or are we on 2nd off now. Wolvie being Wolvie as a warning is just... perfect. your description of him in the bar is beautiful and his gruff demeaner, i mean I'm puddling on my home chair now...

Also small side note - you talking about the flavors of the whiskeys, OMG i LOVE that. Am a bourbon drinker and just... I love your descriptions so much even though I haven't tried either whiskey you mentioned. THE MOTHERFUCKING BODY SHOT???!?!?!???!!!!???! I believe that brain child came to you TODAY, and I think i squeed in my cubical at work, unapologetically when you messaged me that thought. I was ready for it and you did not disappoint i about came in my shorts when he touched her with the claws... well the one time he touched her and the 2nd time he just threatened her. I jsut... omg... yeah... thats.... aummmmm.... ahhhh yeah. am an absolute slut for any type of blades.... and his claws are just that much hotter (as your research proved today.....)

I don't know what else to say or not say about this tale of yours except I love it and thank you

Nothing More Than An Animal

Title: Nothing More Than An Animal

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, unwanted attention, bar fight, Wolvie being Wolvie, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, claw kink

Beta: @peyton-warren

A/N: The title is taken from this quote from Savage Wolverine #13: “Most people think I'm nothing more than an animal!” Thank you to my amazing beta, Peyton, for giving me this idea in the first place.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You couldn’t help yourself. You stand across the street from the biker bar, a flickering streetlamp above you casting an off-white haze. The only thing keeping you from entering the establishment is your sense of self-preservation. This place, Torque Tavern, screams danger. But that only draws you in further.

You’re dressed in your usual style: your favorite Joan Jett shirt with the sleeves cut off, a denim jacket, a pair of figure-hugging black jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens boots. While normally you walk around with a sense of power, tonight was different.

A chill in the air makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You step off the curb into a dirty puddle, crossing the street after looking both ways. With your hand on the bar door, you pull it open and step inside.

The smell of stale beer and tobacco smoke hits your nostrils as the door closes behind you. A dozen heads turn to you, and your heart pounds. You look across the dimly lit room and notice one person who hasn’t paid you any attention, sitting on a stool at the L-shaped bar. You walk up and sit on a stool, a couple of seats away from the large man.

While you wait for the bartender to attend to you, you peek at the behemoth that sits near you. Wild, dark hair that comes to a point on each side, bushy sideburns, and a non-connecting beard outline his face. A white tank top stretches across his wide, thick frame. Bulbous, sweaty biceps glisten in the glow of the lights behind the bar. Hairy, veiny forearms lead down to strong hands: one grips around a lowball of amber liquid so tight that his knuckles are white, and the other balances a fat cigar between two fingers.

“Take a picture, bub, it’ll last longer,” the stranger says, letting out a plume of smoke from his chapped lips before turning his tidepool blue eyes on you.

After a few seconds that feel like minutes, you’re finally able to turn around and look away, mumbling an apology. You can still feel his eyes on you for a bit before he turns back to his drink and his solitude.

Your eyes shoot up once the bartender knocks on the bartop in front of you. “What’ll you have?”

“Uh, yeah. Moosehead and a shot of J.P. Wiser’s,” you reply, unsurprised when the bartender raises a brow at you. He then shrugs, cracks open a bottle of lager, and sets it in front of you. Grabbing a shot glass, he pours you a bit of the blended whiskey.

As soon as the light golden liquor is pushed toward you, you lift it and inhale the vanilla aroma. Tossing it back, the taste of licorice and cinnamon cascades over your tongue and down your throat. You exhale the burn and turn your attention to your lager.

You notice the murmurs behind you. A chair is pushed away from a table, and heavy boots are walking up behind you. A strong hand lands on your shoulder, and you freeze. “Hey, doll. Can I buy you a drink?”

You hold up your beer and decline, “I’m fine, honey.”

“Aw, come on. Just one drink. Promise I don’t bite, ‘less you want me to,” the source of the voice laughs, coming around to lean on the bar between you and the cigar-smoking stranger, his bald head glistening in the low light as he strokes his long, scraggly beard. His beer belly is barely contained in a Limp Bizkit shirt. This man is a walking red flag, and you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Look, pal. Let me enjoy the drink I have, ok? This is my one fucking night off this week, and I’m not in the mood to let you ruin it with any of your shitty pick-up lines or the promise of hanging out with you and the rest of the rejects from Sons of Anarchy, got it?” You surprised yourself by bellowing these words to a stranger, one who could probably benchpress you with ease.

You flinch as his expression turns dark and he raises a hand. “You stuck-up little bitch, I ought to—”

The cigar-smoking stranger interrupts, seizing him by the throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground as if he were a mere feather. While holding him aloft with one hand, the other hand balls into a fist while sharp blades appear from his knuckles.

He’s a mutant! You’d never seen anyone use their abilities up close, but now a man with incredible strength and metal claws is gallantly defending your honor.

“I think the lady has everything she needs, so why don’t you and your little friends scurry along before I get really angry and carve you up in front of everyone, eh?”

The sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked has every head whipping to the bartender. “Get out of my bar, freak!”

The mutant simply turns and deposits the asshole on the ground in a crumpled mess. Blowing another puff of smoke into the ceiling, he throws back the rest of his drink before grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and walking out. Halfway to the door, he turns to you and asks, “You coming or what, bub?”

You couldn’t scramble off your stool quick enough after he challenged you to follow him. Stepping over the man left on the floor, you scurry after your mutant savior. Once back in the night air, you look over as he stuffs the bottle into the storage of his Harley-Davidson. As he swings his leg over the bike and settles into the seat, you can't help but notice the bike sagging under his weight, as if he weighs a ton.

He turns back to his storage, taking out a helmet and holding it out to you. You’ve seen enough movies to know that riding with a stranger is a dumb idea. However, if that mysterious stranger happens to be attractive and cruising on a Harley, who could resist the allure of a thrilling adventure?

Taking the helmet, you pull it down over your head and lift a leg to get onto the bike behind him. As he turns the key, you clench your thighs at the vibration and wrap your arms around his waist.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” he informs.

“Oh, this isn’t tight," you remark, suddenly realizing that you don't know what to call this man. You offer your name, and he repeats it before giving his own.

“The name’s Logan.” He drops his cigar butt on the asphalt and stubs it out with his boot before putting up the kickstand and backing out of the parking spot. He revs the engine, and you are off on your way to wherever Logan wants to take you.

The drive is smooth, the city whizzing past you as Logan speeds down the highway. You end up at a garage that houses a few more Harleys in various states of repair. Logan puts the kickstand down and lets you get off the bike first. He watches as you take off the helmet and look around at where he’s taken you.

Exiting the bike, he takes the helmet when you hold it out to him. You don’t miss the way his fingers lingered on yours for a beat. He takes the bottle out of his bike pack and takes a hefty swig, then hands it to you.

You read the label, ‘Forty Creek Confederation Oak’, and put the bottle to your lips. Tipping it, you are delighted to taste the honey flavor. Handing him the bottle, you hold the liquor in your mouth until it starts to burn, and then you swallow and exhale the nutty finish.

He appears to be quite taken aback that you managed to drink without gagging, and his intrigue deepens as you begin to move closer into his personal space. The warmth in your chest from the alcohol has you feeling full and content. The heat coming off of his body as you stand close enough to breathe in his air has you feeling something completely overwhelming: pheromone-induced arousal.

Your libido is making itself known as you watch him watch you. Unable to stop your hands, they find themselves smoothing up his tank-covered torso until you tug at the collar. He gets the hint and sets the bottle down before removing his shirt.

You encounter a soft, furry chest that invites you to sink your fingers into its warmth. Tightening your digits in the hair on his pretty pecs, you revel in the growl he makes. He then levels the playing field, grabbing you by the nape of the neck with one large paw and bringing your face to his.

As you part your lips, a soft whimper slips out, unable to be contained, while he teasingly brushes his tongue against your lower lip. Growling again, he dips further to slot your mouth with his. He devours the moans that come out of you as he grabs a handful of your ass, chuckling into the kiss as you let him take the lead. His tongue licks into your mouth, and you feel drunk on his whiskey-laden kiss.

Breaking the kiss, he pushes down on your shoulders until you are kneeling at his feet. You start to unfasten his tight-fitting jeans, but he swats your hands away.

“Not yet, bub,” he warns. “I wanna try something.”

With that, he has you pass him the bottle. He takes a drink and then holds your cheek against his denim-covered cock. You can sense that he’s packing quite a surprise down there, and you’re eagerly anticipating the moment it’s unleashed.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

You watch as he takes the bottle and pours about a shot’s worth of liquor over his chest. Watching as the liquid washes over him, you are more than eager to taste it directly from his skin. After you’ve cleaned his chest of all traces, he takes another drink. This time, he holds your face by the jaw and leans down, spitting the whiskey directly into your mouth.

You gulp it down eagerly, on the verge of pleading for another sip, when he scoops you up from the ground and twirls you around, positioning you over the bike you arrived on. He yanks down your jeans, your panties going with them. He lands a slap on each cheek before you hear him unzip his pants and feel his heavy dick teasing your clit.

He kicks your legs open further, pulls your denim jacket off, and lines himself up with your soaked entrance. Sliding in, he hisses at the heat of your tightness. You whine at his girth, stretching you more than any other cock you’ve ever taken. Once he bottoms out, the tip kisses your cervix, and his hairy ball sac rests against your puffy pussy. He pauses to let you get used to his size, but as he continues to take his time, it seems he is just tormenting you.

“Logan, please. Need you to move,” you plead, wiggling your hips to get any kind of friction.

You don’t see the toothy grin that covers his face, but you know by the way he tightens his grip on your hips that he is about to fuck you ten ways from Sunday.

Gradually withdrawing his hips, he eases out until only the tip of his shaft stays nestled within you, and then he thrusts back in with force. Doing it again, and then again, he pauses after each thrust to tease you. But on the third plunge, he doesn’t stop; he just keeps driving into you.

The rhythmic sounds of your sweat-soaked skin colliding form a captivating tune, harmonizing with the slick, squelching rhythm of his thrusts deep inside you. Coupled with Logan's deep, primal growls and your breathy moans, it creates an intoxicating symphony of desire.

You sense one of his hands sliding away from your hip, pushing your top up your back, and then a sharp SNIKT! pierces the air. You almost turn to inquire where the sound came from, but you soon feel something razor-sharp and hot to the touch sliding down your back. Once you realize that he’s touching you with his claws, you’re overcome with arousal, and your walls flutter around him. He fucks you through your orgasm and retracts his claws.

He slows his hips, pulling out and moving you both over to a nearby armchair. Sitting down first, he crooks a finger at you, and you remove your jeans and boots before straddling his hips. As you lower yourself onto him, you feel him fill you once more, the sensation overwhelming as you settle in.

You close your eyes and begin to ride him slower than before. Before you know it, you feel hot steel, or what you assume to be steel, at your neck and open your eyes to see his fist a few inches from your face. The claws, held within a millimeter of your jugular, glide across your skin.

“Hey, bub? You gonna keep pussyfooting around, or are you gonna ride this cock like the good little slut I know you are?” He asks, his pupils dilated until there is barely any blue left.

Your mouth opens and closes, but there is no sound coming out besides whimpers of fear that he might push those claws through your neck. Honestly, it added an extra little something to the experience, feeling that he might cut you at any moment.

The claws disappear back into the skin between his knuckles, and instead, he wraps a hand around your neck, guiding you to ride his length exactly as he wants. Your hands hold his thick wrist as you impale yourself over and over again.

“That’s it. Ride my cock just like that,” he praises, sticking two fingers in your mouth that you gluttonously suck. He locks his gaze on yours while you reach another peak of pleasure, your inner walls tightening around him as you release a wave of warmth that cascades down his length and between his legs.

When you threaten to slow down, he fucks into you, chasing his release. At this point, you are drooling over his fingers and looking like the fucked-out little doll that you are. You can tell that he is close as his hips stutter and his brows furrow as he removes his fingers from your mouth.

“Come inside me, Logan. Want it, need it so bad,” you beg, moving your hips as he drives into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He lets out a throaty growl and buries himself to the hilt inside of you. Feeling him twitch inside you, rope after rope of his cum painting your cervix, you reach back and play with his balls.

It’s minutes before his cock softens enough to slip out of you, and you rest your head on his chest as his jizz drips from your thoroughly used hole. To your astonishment, his hand rises to gently stroke your back while you find yourself gripping his chest hair.

Little did you know, this was only round one with the big lug. He’ll let you get some shut-eye for now, but later? He’d like to fuck you on every available surface in his garage. And what he wants, he always gets.

A/N: I intentionally used a line from the X-Men (2000), but then failed at “Chekov’s Gun” sort of. But this story only has two acts. So, fuck Chekov. I hope you all enjoyed my little fuckfest here, and please do let me know what you thought!! Writers are fed by comments!

**Tag List**

@littlefreya @mrs-solo-walker @viking-raider

Let me know if you want to be added (or removed). 😁

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Oooooh wow girl, this is the kind of filth that I love!! Just the hinting of it gets me beyond aroused...

I'm rendered speechless and I love it.

Cavillrine with reader on her period.

Fucking her, not caring if blood gets on the sheets, he’s seen blood, fuck it he’s spilt blood before.

Thank you for the ask hon!! Yours was the first of the Writer's Block Party Prompts that I tackled, so thank you for sending me such an enticing idea! I hope this drabble fits the bill.

Characters: Cavillrine, Reader Fandom: Deadpool and Wolverine Pairings: Cavillrine x Reader Word count: 308 Gender/Ethnicity: Any. Reader menstrates Type: One-shot Warning: discussion of blood, hinting that Reader menstrates, Logan being Logan Author's Note: Thank you to @rosecentury for the prompt, and @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta! And thank you for those of you sticking with me through my horrendous writer's block. Tried to keep reader as Neutral as possible to be inclusive. Summary: You and Cavillrine hit an impasse, or did you? Ask Box: Open Masterlist

Your cheeks flamed as Logan looked at you like you had 27 heads.  “And?” he asked.  

You shook your head and sighed—damn near tears at this point.  “There is no ‘And,’ Wolvie.  It's just that.”

He still looked befuddled, his forehead wrinkled in confusion and his eyes darting between yours as if one would tell him something your lips did not.  Shaking his head with almost a snap, he started to smirk.  “You think a little blood is going to scare me?”

“It squicks some guys,” you tried.    His smile widened into an out and out toothy grin.   “”First of all I’m not ‘some guys’,” he assured you.  “Secondly, what the fuck does ‘squick’ mean?”  His lack of pop culture knowledge always amused you and this was no different.  Now you tried to hide your smile behind your hand but your giggle was unmistakable.  “Oh and now you are laughing at me?!?” he joked before opening his arms to you.  “C’mere, bub,” he stated softly.  

You step into him and wrap your arms around his solid waist, pressing your giggles into his chest.  “You are adorable when you giggle,” he informed you, his rough chin brushing your neck as he hugged you closer.  

“You’re pretty adorable all the time,” you affirmed.    

“I don't know that I’ve ever been called adorable,” he admitted with an amused tone.  “Can I get back to fucking you now?” he asked in the next breath.  

Lifting your head, you found his heated stare moving from your eyes to where you were biting your bottom lip, suddenly wondering why you stopped kissing him in the first place.  Without another word your lips found him in a hard kiss, reigniting the flames that you had briefly tried to douse just a few short minutes ago as his hand slipped under the waistband of your panties.  

General Tag List: @ellethespaceunicorn @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire, @jvanilly, @identity2212, @avengersfan25 @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 @cynic-spirit @rosecentury HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn @summersong69,

@sillyrabbit81 @mistressmkay

If you want to be added or removed from my Tag Lists, please let me know.

[peyton-warren]

Reblogging in hopes that tumblr will actually let me tag these folks. @avengersfan25 @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 @cynic-spirit @rosecentury

Cavillrine with reader on her period.

Fucking her, not caring if blood gets on the sheets, he’s seen blood, fuck it he’s spilt blood before.

Thank you for the ask hon!! Yours was the first of the Writer's Block Party Prompts that I tackled, so thank you for sending me such an enticing idea! I hope this drabble fits the bill.

Characters: Cavillrine, Reader Fandom: Deadpool and Wolverine Pairings: Cavillrine x Reader Word count: 308 Gender/Ethnicity: Any. Reader menstrates Type: One-shot Warning: discussion of blood, hinting that Reader menstrates, Logan being Logan Author's Note: Thank you to @rosecentury for the prompt, and @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta! And thank you for those of you sticking with me through my horrendous writer's block. Tried to keep reader as Neutral as possible to be inclusive. Summary: You and Cavillrine hit an impasse, or did you? Ask Box: Open Masterlist

Your cheeks flamed as Logan looked at you like you had 27 heads.  “And?” he asked.  

You shook your head and sighed—damn near tears at this point.  “There is no ‘And,’ Wolvie.  It's just that.”

He still looked befuddled, his forehead wrinkled in confusion and his eyes darting between yours as if one would tell him something your lips did not.  Shaking his head with almost a snap, he started to smirk.  “You think a little blood is going to scare me?”

“It squicks some guys,” you tried.    His smile widened into an out and out toothy grin.   “”First of all I’m not ‘some guys’,” he assured you.  “Secondly, what the fuck does ‘squick’ mean?”  His lack of pop culture knowledge always amused you and this was no different.  Now you tried to hide your smile behind your hand but your giggle was unmistakable.  “Oh and now you are laughing at me?!?” he joked before opening his arms to you.  “C’mere, bub,” he stated softly.  

You step into him and wrap your arms around his solid waist, pressing your giggles into his chest.  “You are adorable when you giggle,” he informed you, his rough chin brushing your neck as he hugged you closer.  

“You’re pretty adorable all the time,” you affirmed.    

“I don't know that I’ve ever been called adorable,” he admitted with an amused tone.  “Can I get back to fucking you now?” he asked in the next breath.  

Lifting your head, you found his heated stare moving from your eyes to where you were biting your bottom lip, suddenly wondering why you stopped kissing him in the first place.  Without another word your lips found him in a hard kiss, reigniting the flames that you had briefly tried to douse just a few short minutes ago as his hand slipped under the waistband of your panties.  

General Tag List: @ellethespaceunicorn @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire, @jvanilly, @identity2212, @avengersfan25 @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 @cynic-spirit @rosecentury HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn @summersong69,

@sillyrabbit81 @mistressmkay

If you want to be added or removed from my Tag Lists, please let me know.

[sunriserose1023]

Just … yes. Please.

Nothing More Than An Animal

Title: Nothing More Than An Animal

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, unwanted attention, bar fight, Wolvie being Wolvie, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, claw kink

Beta: @peyton-warren

A/N: The title is taken from this quote from Savage Wolverine #13: “Most people think I'm nothing more than an animal!” Thank you to my amazing beta, Peyton, for giving me this idea in the first place.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You couldn’t help yourself. You stand across the street from the biker bar, a flickering streetlamp above you casting an off-white haze. The only thing keeping you from entering the establishment is your sense of self-preservation. This place, Torque Tavern, screams danger. But that only draws you in further.

You’re dressed in your usual style: your favorite Joan Jett shirt with the sleeves cut off, a denim jacket, a pair of figure-hugging black jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens boots. While normally you walk around with a sense of power, tonight was different.

A chill in the air makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You step off the curb into a dirty puddle, crossing the street after looking both ways. With your hand on the bar door, you pull it open and step inside.

The smell of stale beer and tobacco smoke hits your nostrils as the door closes behind you. A dozen heads turn to you, and your heart pounds. You look across the dimly lit room and notice one person who hasn’t paid you any attention, sitting on a stool at the L-shaped bar. You walk up and sit on a stool, a couple of seats away from the large man.

While you wait for the bartender to attend to you, you peek at the behemoth that sits near you. Wild, dark hair that comes to a point on each side, bushy sideburns, and a non-connecting beard outline his face. A white tank top stretches across his wide, thick frame. Bulbous, sweaty biceps glisten in the glow of the lights behind the bar. Hairy, veiny forearms lead down to strong hands: one grips around a lowball of amber liquid so tight that his knuckles are white, and the other balances a fat cigar between two fingers.

“Take a picture, bub, it’ll last longer,” the stranger says, letting out a plume of smoke from his chapped lips before turning his tidepool blue eyes on you.

After a few seconds that feel like minutes, you’re finally able to turn around and look away, mumbling an apology. You can still feel his eyes on you for a bit before he turns back to his drink and his solitude.

Your eyes shoot up once the bartender knocks on the bartop in front of you. “What’ll you have?”

“Uh, yeah. Moosehead and a shot of J.P. Wiser’s,” you reply, unsurprised when the bartender raises a brow at you. He then shrugs, cracks open a bottle of lager, and sets it in front of you. Grabbing a shot glass, he pours you a bit of the blended whiskey.

As soon as the light golden liquor is pushed toward you, you lift it and inhale the vanilla aroma. Tossing it back, the taste of licorice and cinnamon cascades over your tongue and down your throat. You exhale the burn and turn your attention to your lager.

You notice the murmurs behind you. A chair is pushed away from a table, and heavy boots are walking up behind you. A strong hand lands on your shoulder, and you freeze. “Hey, doll. Can I buy you a drink?”

You hold up your beer and decline, “I’m fine, honey.”

“Aw, come on. Just one drink. Promise I don’t bite, ‘less you want me to,” the source of the voice laughs, coming around to lean on the bar between you and the cigar-smoking stranger, his bald head glistening in the low light as he strokes his long, scraggly beard. His beer belly is barely contained in a Limp Bizkit shirt. This man is a walking red flag, and you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Look, pal. Let me enjoy the drink I have, ok? This is my one fucking night off this week, and I’m not in the mood to let you ruin it with any of your shitty pick-up lines or the promise of hanging out with you and the rest of the rejects from Sons of Anarchy, got it?” You surprised yourself by bellowing these words to a stranger, one who could probably benchpress you with ease.

You flinch as his expression turns dark and he raises a hand. “You stuck-up little bitch, I ought to—”

The cigar-smoking stranger interrupts, seizing him by the throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground as if he were a mere feather. While holding him aloft with one hand, the other hand balls into a fist while sharp blades appear from his knuckles.

He’s a mutant! You’d never seen anyone use their abilities up close, but now a man with incredible strength and metal claws is gallantly defending your honor.

“I think the lady has everything she needs, so why don’t you and your little friends scurry along before I get really angry and carve you up in front of everyone, eh?”

The sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked has every head whipping to the bartender. “Get out of my bar, freak!”

The mutant simply turns and deposits the asshole on the ground in a crumpled mess. Blowing another puff of smoke into the ceiling, he throws back the rest of his drink before grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and walking out. Halfway to the door, he turns to you and asks, “You coming or what, bub?”

You couldn’t scramble off your stool quick enough after he challenged you to follow him. Stepping over the man left on the floor, you scurry after your mutant savior. Once back in the night air, you look over as he stuffs the bottle into the storage of his Harley-Davidson. As he swings his leg over the bike and settles into the seat, you can't help but notice the bike sagging under his weight, as if he weighs a ton.

He turns back to his storage, taking out a helmet and holding it out to you. You’ve seen enough movies to know that riding with a stranger is a dumb idea. However, if that mysterious stranger happens to be attractive and cruising on a Harley, who could resist the allure of a thrilling adventure?

Taking the helmet, you pull it down over your head and lift a leg to get onto the bike behind him. As he turns the key, you clench your thighs at the vibration and wrap your arms around his waist.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” he informs.

“Oh, this isn’t tight," you remark, suddenly realizing that you don't know what to call this man. You offer your name, and he repeats it before giving his own.

“The name’s Logan.” He drops his cigar butt on the asphalt and stubs it out with his boot before putting up the kickstand and backing out of the parking spot. He revs the engine, and you are off on your way to wherever Logan wants to take you.

The drive is smooth, the city whizzing past you as Logan speeds down the highway. You end up at a garage that houses a few more Harleys in various states of repair. Logan puts the kickstand down and lets you get off the bike first. He watches as you take off the helmet and look around at where he’s taken you.

Exiting the bike, he takes the helmet when you hold it out to him. You don’t miss the way his fingers lingered on yours for a beat. He takes the bottle out of his bike pack and takes a hefty swig, then hands it to you.

You read the label, ‘Forty Creek Confederation Oak’, and put the bottle to your lips. Tipping it, you are delighted to taste the honey flavor. Handing him the bottle, you hold the liquor in your mouth until it starts to burn, and then you swallow and exhale the nutty finish.

He appears to be quite taken aback that you managed to drink without gagging, and his intrigue deepens as you begin to move closer into his personal space. The warmth in your chest from the alcohol has you feeling full and content. The heat coming off of his body as you stand close enough to breathe in his air has you feeling something completely overwhelming: pheromone-induced arousal.

Your libido is making itself known as you watch him watch you. Unable to stop your hands, they find themselves smoothing up his tank-covered torso until you tug at the collar. He gets the hint and sets the bottle down before removing his shirt.

You encounter a soft, furry chest that invites you to sink your fingers into its warmth. Tightening your digits in the hair on his pretty pecs, you revel in the growl he makes. He then levels the playing field, grabbing you by the nape of the neck with one large paw and bringing your face to his.

As you part your lips, a soft whimper slips out, unable to be contained, while he teasingly brushes his tongue against your lower lip. Growling again, he dips further to slot your mouth with his. He devours the moans that come out of you as he grabs a handful of your ass, chuckling into the kiss as you let him take the lead. His tongue licks into your mouth, and you feel drunk on his whiskey-laden kiss.

Breaking the kiss, he pushes down on your shoulders until you are kneeling at his feet. You start to unfasten his tight-fitting jeans, but he swats your hands away.

“Not yet, bub,” he warns. “I wanna try something.”

With that, he has you pass him the bottle. He takes a drink and then holds your cheek against his denim-covered cock. You can sense that he’s packing quite a surprise down there, and you’re eagerly anticipating the moment it’s unleashed.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

You watch as he takes the bottle and pours about a shot’s worth of liquor over his chest. Watching as the liquid washes over him, you are more than eager to taste it directly from his skin. After you’ve cleaned his chest of all traces, he takes another drink. This time, he holds your face by the jaw and leans down, spitting the whiskey directly into your mouth.

You gulp it down eagerly, on the verge of pleading for another sip, when he scoops you up from the ground and twirls you around, positioning you over the bike you arrived on. He yanks down your jeans, your panties going with them. He lands a slap on each cheek before you hear him unzip his pants and feel his heavy dick teasing your clit.

He kicks your legs open further, pulls your denim jacket off, and lines himself up with your soaked entrance. Sliding in, he hisses at the heat of your tightness. You whine at his girth, stretching you more than any other cock you’ve ever taken. Once he bottoms out, the tip kisses your cervix, and his hairy ball sac rests against your puffy pussy. He pauses to let you get used to his size, but as he continues to take his time, it seems he is just tormenting you.

“Logan, please. Need you to move,” you plead, wiggling your hips to get any kind of friction.

You don’t see the toothy grin that covers his face, but you know by the way he tightens his grip on your hips that he is about to fuck you ten ways from Sunday.

Gradually withdrawing his hips, he eases out until only the tip of his shaft stays nestled within you, and then he thrusts back in with force. Doing it again, and then again, he pauses after each thrust to tease you. But on the third plunge, he doesn’t stop; he just keeps driving into you.

The rhythmic sounds of your sweat-soaked skin colliding form a captivating tune, harmonizing with the slick, squelching rhythm of his thrusts deep inside you. Coupled with Logan's deep, primal growls and your breathy moans, it creates an intoxicating symphony of desire.

You sense one of his hands sliding away from your hip, pushing your top up your back, and then a sharp SNIKT! pierces the air. You almost turn to inquire where the sound came from, but you soon feel something razor-sharp and hot to the touch sliding down your back. Once you realize that he’s touching you with his claws, you’re overcome with arousal, and your walls flutter around him. He fucks you through your orgasm and retracts his claws.

He slows his hips, pulling out and moving you both over to a nearby armchair. Sitting down first, he crooks a finger at you, and you remove your jeans and boots before straddling his hips. As you lower yourself onto him, you feel him fill you once more, the sensation overwhelming as you settle in.

You close your eyes and begin to ride him slower than before. Before you know it, you feel hot steel, or what you assume to be steel, at your neck and open your eyes to see his fist a few inches from your face. The claws, held within a millimeter of your jugular, glide across your skin.

“Hey, bub? You gonna keep pussyfooting around, or are you gonna ride this cock like the good little slut I know you are?” He asks, his pupils dilated until there is barely any blue left.

Your mouth opens and closes, but there is no sound coming out besides whimpers of fear that he might push those claws through your neck. Honestly, it added an extra little something to the experience, feeling that he might cut you at any moment.

The claws disappear back into the skin between his knuckles, and instead, he wraps a hand around your neck, guiding you to ride his length exactly as he wants. Your hands hold his thick wrist as you impale yourself over and over again.

“That’s it. Ride my cock just like that,” he praises, sticking two fingers in your mouth that you gluttonously suck. He locks his gaze on yours while you reach another peak of pleasure, your inner walls tightening around him as you release a wave of warmth that cascades down his length and between his legs.

When you threaten to slow down, he fucks into you, chasing his release. At this point, you are drooling over his fingers and looking like the fucked-out little doll that you are. You can tell that he is close as his hips stutter and his brows furrow as he removes his fingers from your mouth.

“Come inside me, Logan. Want it, need it so bad,” you beg, moving your hips as he drives into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He lets out a throaty growl and buries himself to the hilt inside of you. Feeling him twitch inside you, rope after rope of his cum painting your cervix, you reach back and play with his balls.

It’s minutes before his cock softens enough to slip out of you, and you rest your head on his chest as his jizz drips from your thoroughly used hole. To your astonishment, his hand rises to gently stroke your back while you find yourself gripping his chest hair.

Little did you know, this was only round one with the big lug. He’ll let you get some shut-eye for now, but later? He’d like to fuck you on every available surface in his garage. And what he wants, he always gets.

A/N: I intentionally used a line from the X-Men (2000), but then failed at “Chekov’s Gun” sort of. But this story only has two acts. So, fuck Chekov. I hope you all enjoyed my little fuckfest here, and please do let me know what you thought!! Writers are fed by comments!

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