#logansworld! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

murdrdocs · 3 months ago

Text

i want your video

description. you're broke, but you want to go on a vacation with your friends. luckily, your roommate logan says he has a well paying opportunity for you—one he thinks you would be perfect for

includes. 90s pornstar! logan, roomate! logan, protected pnv, fingering, oral (f receiving), logan's lowk a pro, r is nervy but not a virgin, rom-com vibes honestly

wc. 6.5k+

a/n: this took like 2-3 months um. here’s what he looks like btw (safe tumblr link). title from i want your video by djo

You don’t mean to sigh whenever you click the phone back onto the receiver, but it comes out of you naturally. You rest your head on the wall, taking deep breaths, trying to hold off a tantrum. If you were alone, you would’ve screamed into your hands by now, followed by a stomped lap around the apartment and insistent rambling until you found yourself calmer than before.

But you withhold all of this on account of Logan sitting not far from you.

He’s staring at the TV, watching the movie he picked for movie night. You were interested in watching it before, sitting right beside him with your feet tucked under your legs as you watched everything unfold. But after the call you’ve just had, the only thing you can focus on is how your life feels like it’s slowly crumbling apart beneath you, and you can do nothing about it.

“What happened?”

You pinch your eyes shut, already regretting the—albeit small—scene you made. Now you’re forced to lay your problems out for Logan.

You take your time walking back to the couch, taking a quick detour to the kitchen where you grab a soda for yourself, and a beer for Logan without him having to ask. But by the time you make it back to the living room, Logan’s looking at you, his thick eyebrows raised and his lips parted as if he’s actually curious about what happened.

“My friend called.”

He happily takes the beer from your hands, slightly grinning to himself as he cracks the bottle open with his bare hands and takes a sip.

Logan stares at you from over the rim, waiting for you to continue.

You do so begrudgingly. “They’re planning a vacation.”

“Really? To where?”

“They don’t know yet but places like Aspen, Big Sky, Montego Bay, or whatever other city she mentioned.”

Logan hums, nodding along.

“And…? Why do you sound so bummed? Wouldn’t it be fun to go skiing with your girl friends?”

It would be fun, vacations with them are always fun. But that’s what got you in this predicament in the first place—working two jobs and picking up whatever odd opportunities found you along the way. Too many vacations did eventually have a toll on your savings. It finally came back to bite you in the butt.

“I’m bummed because I don’t have any money.”

Logan shrugs like there’s the easiest solution in the world sitting right on the cluttered coffee table in front of you both. He turns back to the TV, taking another swig from his beer before he answers. “Then just don’t go.”

You groan, tipping your head back until you knock into the wooden structure of the back of the couch.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Seems like it is to me. You don’t have to be part of everything. Surely nothing too good can happen on this trip.”

“But this guy I kinda sorta like, Scott—” Logan groans at the mention of him. You scoff, slapping his arm. You try your hardest to ignore just how hard his bicep feels against your hand.

“Don’t make that sound. You only met Scott once and you caught him on a bad day.”

“Just because he had a bad day doesn’t mean he had to take it out on everyone else. Fucking prick.”

You ignore his grumbling. “Well he’s going and it would be the perfect time for us to get together, right?”

Logan doesn’t look impressed. He looks the exact opposite, actually. The definition of nonchalance sits right there on his pretty features. “Seems very childish to me. Childlike behavior.”

“You’re only 3 years older than me.”

He looks over at you, a lazy and self-assured smile on his pink lips. “And what a world of a difference those three years make.”

You don’t even say anything else. There’s nothing for you to say. Logan doesn’t get it. He has a fairly stable, well-paying job. He doesn’t seem strapped for money. You’ve never even heard him complain about money.

You focus on the movie with a lack of interest, taking occasional sips from your soda, running ideas through your head about how you’ll possibly make enough money to afford this trip. Maybe you’ll have to call your parents and ask them to lend you something. It’ll be better than asking your friends, especially since you don’t want to seem like a burden. You’d rather deal with your parent's lecture. Listen to your mom tell you that you shouldn’t have moved to a new city, one renowned for being expensive at that. You shouldn’t have moved in with that boy. You shouldn’t have dropped school. So many things you shouldn’t have done.

… Maybe you shouldn’t go on the trip at all. Maybe Logan has a point. How much could you miss out on?

Just as you’re starting to conjure up images of things that could happen without you there, Logan shifts closer to you. He stares straight ahead while he speaks.

“You know, if you need extra money, I know a job you’d be perfect for.”

Your eyebrows furrow but since Logan isn’t looking at you, you don’t look at him.

“You do?”

He hums. You wait for him to add on, and when he doesn’t elaborate immediately, you throw a quick glance his way. He’s still staring straight ahead, though, so you continue to mirror him.

“I got a call from the guys at the studio this morning.”

You were there for it. Well, some of it. You were rushing to get ready for work after having overslept. A waffle in your mouth while you messily brushed mascara onto your eyes using your compact mirror. You were sitting in the kitchen, finishing this one thing before leaving, and Logan was standing where you were not long ago.

With one hand on his hip, facing the wall, he seemed serious. His tone was a little remorseful as he sighed, agreeing with whoever had been on the other side of the line. After the call ended, he went to his room and you didn’t see him again until you got home from work.

You nod, tapping your fingers against the metal can as you await more information to add to the puzzle.

“The actress I was supposed to do my next shoot with had to drop out. We’ve been planning this one for a while and we’re too far into production to scrap it…”

“So…?” You’re really struggling to figure out exactly where you fit into this all.

“So, I think you would be perfect for the gig.”

His admission hangs in the air. It sits beside you both, squeezed into the small space in the center of the couch.

It’s awkward. From your end at least.

Logan thinks you’d be perfect for a part in a porno?

You don’t know why that’s so hard for you to believe, but it is. Does this mean he thinks you’re attractive? Maybe you just fit the casting description.

“What’s it about?”

Logan shrugs dismissively. He shifts his position, pushing his hips out a little more. You allow yourself a single glance before looking away.

“A young girl is tired of her overprotective parents and feeling sheltered so she goes out right before going to college, has some fun, and runs into this guy—“

“You, I’m assuming?”

Logan nods. “Yeah, me. I show you a good time the first time, we later find out I’m your professor, and then I show you a good time again.” He sends you a small smile. “Nothing you can’t handle.”

Definitely more than you can handle. “A professor? Don’t you look too young to play a professor?”

“It’s why I grew my beard out a little.” He takes his hand and drags his fingers along his jaw.

You’ll admit, the prominent scruff is a good look on him. It rounds his features out. The highlighted hair, single earring, tan skin, and now very short beard. He looks good, no wonder why people pay to see him fuck … and sometimes get fucked from what you understand.

It doesn’t seem too complex. As long as you remove the having sex for an audience part.

“And would it just be me and you? No one else?”

“No one else. Just us two. Well, aside from the crew and production guys.”

You chew on your bottom lip, looking up to the ceiling to think it through. There’s so much for you to consider, so many worries flying around your brain too fast for you to keep up. Logan senses this, taking another, punctual sip from his beer.

“There’s time to think it over. Just let me know by the end of the week, ‘kay? And no pressure. If you don’t wanna do it, don’t do it.”

You really need the money. You’re pacing outside of Logan’s closed bedroom door, trying your best to be light on your feet while you build the courage to knock on the door and give him your decision.

It would be mortifying, and possibly the hardest thing you’ve ever done (no pun intended, but God, now you can’t stop thinking about it), but you really need the money.

Just as you raise your fist to knock on the door, it’s pulled away from you, and you almost hit Logan right in the center of his chest.

“Woah.” He wraps his hand around your fist, gently pulling it down as he smirks down at you. “What was your plan here?”

You take your hand away, folding it into the other behind your back. “I was gonna tell you that I made a decision.”

“Alright,” Logan crosses his arms over his chest and leans into the door frame. If you hadn’t already come to a conclusion, just the way he looks right now would have driven you to one. His hair tousled on his head, his roots grown out even more than usual so the frosted tips are just barely hanging on. He’s dressed as he usually is—straight fitting black jeans and a undershirt, but the fit of both together just looks so good on him.

You’re staring. You know you’re staring, Logan knows you’re staring. Neither of you say or do anything about it for a minute, until Logan raises his eyebrows.

“You gonna share your decision with me or should I be reading your mind right now?” He furrows his eyebrows and pouts as if he’s really going to make an attempt at reading your mind.

You brush him off through a giggle. Then, suddenly, everything is serious and nothing has ever been funny ever before.

“I have decided that …” It’s so unnecessarily hard to say, but this is Logan, the guy who had to literally hold your head up from crashing into a vomit-full toilet when you got food poisoning. He’s seen you at your worst, and now he’s going to see you at your best. You won’t admit it to anyone, at least not for a while, but the idea excites you.

“I’ll do it.”

Logan’s grinning at you and you don’t know if it’s because he’s happy that he has found a new scene partner, or for some other reason. You don’t wanna think about it for too long.

There’s more and you take a tiny step towards him as if to indicate. “But I think I’ll feel better if I had some sort of crash course or something. I need to get my feet wet.”

“What about a practice round?”

Huh?

You blink up at Logan. You’re pretty sure you’re balking, not like you care.

“Practice round? What d’you mean?”

Logan kicks off of the doorframe and takes the extra step closer to you until you’re practically standing chest to chest. “I mean, we could rehearse. I could get the script for you a little earlier, we can run lines and do the other stuff, too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“So we’ll fuck?”

Logan nods, a smile twisting the corners of his lips up. “Yeah, we’ll fuck. But only if you want to and if you think it’ll be beneficial. Strictly professional.”

For some reason, the way he says it feels weighted, as if he knows something you don’t. Or maybe, as if he’s referencing something you should know, but don’t.

“Yeah okay. But strictly professional.” And when you say it, it sounds the same.

It sounds like complete bullshit.

Bullshit or not, you’re going through with this. You keep telling yourself that there is no way you can back out now, but you know that if you shot up off of the couch, retreated into your room, and absolutely refused to do it with Logan, he would figure out some way to make it work. He would grumble about it, and maybe hold it against you for a bit, but he wouldn’t force you into something you didn’t want to do.

But you want to do this, and you will.

The script crinkles as you turn the page, blinking at the highlighted lines on the paper. You’ve been here before, it’s your fifth time running the lines with Logan and at this point you’re already starting to commit them to memory. Logically, it’s time to move on. But an itch in your throat tells you to ask to run them one more time, only so you don’t have to get to what comes next.

Logan gulps down the rest of his glass of water and sets the empty cup onto the coffee table, placing his script beside it. He turns to face you, resting his elbows on the faded knees of his jeans.

“You good?”

You blink. “Yeah. ‘m okay.”

Logan nods once. “Alright. Ready to move on then?”

“Sure. Yeah. Yes. Mhm.”

You can see Logan fighting off a smile but when he eventually lets it crack, it makes you feel better. This situation is awkward. There’s no point in pretending that it’s not.

“Where should we … what should we do?”

Logan shuffles closer and your breath hitches. He’s sat this close to you before, there’s nothing special about the way his knee knocks into yours. It’s just the implications behind it.

Jesus, if you’re getting flustered at just the proximity, what’re you going to do when he’s hovering over you?

“Don’t stress,” Logan coos. “We can start slow. When we get on set, everything happens so fast that you won’t have time to worry about anything. That means there’s no time to acclimate either, so let’s just start with getting acclimated with each other. That sounds okay?”

You nod, trying to prevent going cross eyed as Logan leans closer and closer. He cups your cheek with one hand, his fingertips digging into your hair as he pulls your face closer to his.

The first press of your lips together is gentle. It’s light, barely touching, but it lingers. The two of you hover there for a second, and then Logan presses himself closer until your lips slot together. This kiss is chaste, a simple peck. He pulls back, the two of you breathe, and then Logan goes in for more.

He tilts his head, taking the lead in moving your lips together. But this is something you’re comfortable with, even if it’s odd doing it with your roommate. But you know how to kiss, so you show him.

You press yourself closer to him, putting more intention and purpose behind the way your lips glide over his. You slip your tongue forward, poking his bottom lip once before drawing the muscle back in. It’s only when Logan glides his tongue out in search of yours that you introduce the change.

The kiss doesn’t ever get messy, it’s still a little too restrained for that, but it feels less awkward. You shuffle closer to Logan, throwing your leg over his on the couch and placing your hands on his shoulders. It’s shortly after that the need for a substantial amount of oxygen burns in your chest, and you pull away to suck in as much air as you can get as quickly as possible.

Whatever air you have is practically knocked out of you when Logan grins at you. “Very good,” he praises.

You try to hide how affected you are by rolling your eyes.

“You say that like you thought I didn’t know how to kiss.”

Logan throws his hands up in a mocking surrender. “I didn’t want to assume anything, alright?”

You’re about to reply, but then Logan leans in and he’s still smiling and his green eyes are glinting so nicely in the warm lighting of the living room and then he’s kissing you again so there’s no room for a response.

This kiss is deeper. While the last kiss was an introduction—both to what you’re capable of and of each other, this kiss introduces what the two of you are doing this for. You aren’t kissing just to kiss, even though that’s something you’re not opposed to at all. You’re kissing to fuck.

So Logan kisses you like he wants to fuck.

His hands gravitate to your waist and he tugs you closer. You allow him to move you until you’re flush against his legs, but that’s not what he wants. Logan shakes his head, pulling away from the kiss to tell you, “Don’t be shy, c’mere”.

You try not to think too much about it when you end up straddling his lap, your tiny shorts hiked up from the movement. You aren’t thinking too much about it until Logan looks up at you, eyes a little lidded in the way they usually are when he wakes up still high from the night before. His smile is similar to then, too, a laziness to it that’s different from the broad smile before. It’s as if he’s becoming dopey from just this.

You can’t stand to look at him anymore, so you go back to kissing him instead.

Logan sits back for the most part, letting you take control and do what you want. He lets you fist his hair and suck on his tongue. He lets you lick in his mouth and run your hands down his chest. The one thing he takes control of is when he pulls you down to sit flush against his lap, and it’s then that you feel it.

It’s obvious, of course Logan would be getting hard, but feeling his erection pressing against your thigh is different from mentally acknowledging it.

At first, you try to ignore it. You pull your lips away to kiss down Logan’s jaw and neck for a second before coming back to him, but just as you reach for Logan’s lips, he thumbs the side of your mouth. His thumb slips between your lips and it’s only there for a second, not much longer, but your head turns in search of it again. Logan doesn’t give it back, but you see the acknowledgement flash in his eyes.

Instead, he takes your hand in his and drags it down the cotton fabric of his white undershirt, going further and further until you’re touching the heavy denim of his jeans and resting right over the prominent print of his dick.

“Feel that? You feel what you’re doing to me?” You have nothing to say so you settle for dumbly nodding. “Yeah? See, you’re doing good.” Logan pecks your cheek, dragging his lips across your jaw and briefly sucking at a spot right beside your ear.

“Can I feel you?”

Still speechless, you settle for nodding.

Logan’s hand trails down your abdomen, fingers bunching up your big tee shirt as he goes further and further down. “Are you wet? Hm? Are you getting wet for me?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Lo.”

He laughs, placing his head in the crook of your neck. “Too much?” he asks sincerely.

“Yeah.” His hands stop for a second. He looks up at you, eyebrows pinched together just enough in the center.

You clarify. “But in a good way.” And then Logan keeps going.

You expect him to dig his fingertips beneath the waistband of your shorts, but he doesn’t. He takes a different route, one that has his fingers teasing your inner thigh for a second before they slip up the gap in your shorts. This is how he feels you.

He watches you the entire time, his eyes big throughout. He watches your eyes flutter shut when he presses into your clit for the first time. He watches you gasp when he pushes your panties to the side and glides a fingertip through your folds, allowing himself to feel just how wet you really are. He watches your eyes briefly widen as he slowly slides a finger into your entrance.

“Just like that…” His voice is deeper somehow, a distinct gravel tone to it.

He pumps the first digit for a little while before introducing another. And even when he does, he asks you first. “You want another?”

You manage to vocalize your response this time, even though it’s nothing but a simple, “Yes”.

When Logan adds the second finger, you somehow already feel full. Yeah, it’s been a while since you got laid, and maybe that has something to do with your general reaction to all of this, but Logan’s two fingers are filling you up so nicely.

Much larger and longer than your own fingers, the way he pumps you feels so reminiscent of a cock that you’re already salivating. You’re a little embarrassed to already be getting this worked up and Logan can tell.

“Don’t hold back,” he tells you. “They’re gonna tell you to let go. So let go.”

You do, subtly at first. You let your hips rock with the movement of his fingers, pushing forward and back on his hand, practically grinding on his hands alone. And then you let the sound out. Nothing but breaths at first, until Logan digs deeper and finds what you’re sure he was looking for. Then you can’t help the moan that comes out of you.

Before you have time to feel anything uncomfortable towards your reactions, Logan’s praising you.

“There we go. ‘Atta girl.”

Your head hangs as Logan keeps going, pushing you further and further until your nails dig into Logan’s shoulder and you’re breathing heavily.

“C’mon, look at me,” Logan urges. “You gotta let the camera see how pretty you are, alright?”

You nod, lifting your head and immediately regretting it. There’s a glaze over your eyes, you can see it, and Logan sees it too.

He tilts his head, his eyes squinted and his eyebrows pinched together. It’s his way of asking what’s wrong, the same look he gives you when you come back from work with a similar look in your eyes.

The emotion is completely different this time, though. “I’m so close, Lo,” you explain.

Logan nods. “Alright. I got you, sweetheart.”

And he does have you. When your body seizes with your orgasm, Logan hooks his hand onto the back of your neck and pulls you into him, imaginary camera be damned. He helps you ride through it, keeping you sane throughout. And even when the twitching of your muscles has stopped, Logan keeps his fingers in you. Unmoving, just occupying the space.

“Wanna keep going?”

You nod. There’s no way you’re stopping now.

“Alright. Hold on then.” Logan stands without much warning, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. His fingers slip out of you as he effortlessly carries you down the hall and to his bedroom, and the instant emptiness you feel is nearly dizzying.

The only thing keeping you from absolutely losing it is the knowledge that you’ll soon be fuller than you’ve ever been before. Hopefully.

You’ve been respectful of you and Logan’s relationship. He doesn’t bother to get involved in your work so you didn’t bother to get involved in his, even if there is a clear difference in entertainment levels.

So even when your friends would beg and plead to go to the video store and buy one of Logan’s tapes, you would stay firm in your position that it was none of your business. The only things you knew about Logan were things that you learned from living with him. You knew his body was lean from the times when he would slip out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist to give you the space. You knew Logan was a good lay because of the sounds you’d walked in on a few times when you were supposed to be out of the apartment but needed to grab something you’d forgotten. You knew Logan was hung because of the print he’d made you feel just a mere fifteen minutes ago.

As if you needed further confirmation, Logan slipping his clothes off and revealing the tent in his briefs was more than enough.

You stand across from him as he undresses and for far too long, you’re distracted by his physique. The body hair he reveals when he takes his shirt off. The way his biceps and abdomen tenses in picturesque ways as he simply moves. Each patch of skin that is revealed as clothes slide off of his tanned skin.

You don’t even realize you’re still completely clothed until Logan has his hands on your waist, pushing you back towards his bed as he sloppily kisses at the side of your neck.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, lemme—” You try to hook your hands under your shirt but Logan tuts.

“No, no, I got it. Let me.” He sits you down on the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees but not before he pulls your shirt off. He reaches up, fingering the straps of your bra before slipping them down one by one. There’s an almost tenderness in this moment where he reaches back and undoes your bra, helping you slip your arms out of each of the straps.

You don’t feel awkward or embarrassed at all as you reveal your breasts to Logan. It doesn’t feel natural, not at all, but you feel safe. The same goes for when he lays you back and pulls your shorts off. He leaves your panties on for now.

Without having to be told you climb back into the center of the bed, watching Logan follow you the entire time. You lay back on your elbows and he sits up on his knees, hands resting on your knee caps to keep him balanced. With a gentle shove he pushes your knees apart and you take the hint, spreading your legs to give him room.

He climbs between them, leaning on his forearms as your crotches press together, barred away from the other through two thin layers of undergarments.

He kisses you again, that same hunger from before present right here. His crotch grinds into yours as well, a slow push and an even slower pull that somehow manages to continue working you up. You don’t know how much more you’ll be able to take before you snap.

But for now you can handle it.

You revel in the feeling of Logan’s lips against yours and the outline of his dick pressing into your cunt. You bask in the warmth from his body as it spreads down to yours.

You’ve always noticed how big Logan is, how his tall and strong stature is multiplied by the confidence that he carries himself with, and it’s not the first time that you feel dwarfed beneath him. He feels incredibly in control above you, but in a manner that is not overwhelming. There is room for you to take this all back if you want to—and you certainly don’t, at least not before this really gets somewhere—but Logan is in complete control.

At least for now.

“Do you …” your fingers take through Logan’s hair and he seems to melt from the touch, the tension in his neck relaxing as his head hangs directly down over your chest. Meanwhile, he continues rocking his hips into yours. It’s incredibly distracting, and for a moment you forgot you were even saying something until Logan nips the side of your neck.

“Do I…?”

You inhale and take a moment. “Do you have a condom?”

You can feel Logan smile against your skin. He nods, a gentle movement that you know exists from the way the tip of his nose runs up and down the side of your neck.

When you reach to the side in pursuit of opening his bedside drawer, Logan holds you still with a firm grasp on your waist. “Just stay here for a little while longer,” he asks. And the way he says it, breathy, almost like a plea. It feels oddly romantic..

What you and Logan are doing, and are about to do, isn’t necessarily transactional, but it is supposed to be casual in terms of professionalism. It’s supposed to be mundane, even if the circumstances are anything but.

But Logan is blurring the lines with moments like this. He’s savoring it, and it’s confusing.

If you weren’t on a mission, and too fearful to pop the delicate bubble created, you would say something. Instead, you stay there for a little while longer and let Logan grind his boner into the crotch of your panties.

Eventually you have matching wet patches, except yours is much larger than his, spreading down the entire center of your panties and reaching towards your ass. Logan even makes note of it beneath his breath, pulling away and holding your legs by your knees, taking one hand away to run his fingertip down the seam of your folds.

Whatever he says, you don’t hear because you’re too busy trying to find the proper words to ask him to finally fuck you. Eventually, you just say it outright.

Logan grins down at you, nodding as he reaches over to the nightstand.

“Alright, alright,” he chides, “forgive me for wanting to have a little fun beforehand.”

You’re hooking your thumbs beneath your panties and lifting your hips when you raise your eyebrows. “Isn’t this the fun part?”

Logan shrugs as he stands and pulls his boxers off. “To most, yeah. But it’s all the fun part for me. Foreplay isn’t just a means to an end, it’s all part of it. Foreplay can be sex itself.”

You should be listening to his words, and you are just a bit, but most of your attention falls to watching him hold his cock in the base of his hand and then sliding the condom down the length of him. You watch the latex go further and further down, traveling a length that was as long as you had expected, but expanding wider than you thought.

He’s big, and you knew he would be, but it’s different to have it confirmed right in front of your eyes.

Logan chuckles as he shuffles forward. “Are you listening to me?”

You don’t even pretend. “No, not at all.”

Logan doesn't chide you, he only presses his lips to yours once.

“You’re not intimidated are you? Did you wanna stop?” His words are soothing, but the way he says it is not. He’s too cocky about it.

You roll your eyes. “‘m not intimidated. Keep going.”

Your legs are spread, Logan’s settled between them, he’s holding the base of his cock with one hand and has the other placed on your thigh, and you think he's going to slide in, but he doesn't. Instead, he lays his cock over your mound and stares, as if he's measuring it. He whistles lowly, and before you can do anything in response, he slides in. Slow at first, spreading you open inch by inch until his hips are flush against yours. He groans, the sound broken and shuddered, a sharp intake of breath following it as he pulls out and slides back in.

You’re so full it’s almost suffocating. It feels so intrusive to have your roommate feeling you in this way. Even through the layer of the condom, you know he can feel you. The two of you are bound in a way that you’ll never be able to forget, and you don’t want to.

Logan is so good to you. It’s obvious he knows what he’s doing when he rocks into you like this. Your head lolls to the side, eyes fluttering shut as Logan leans forward and wraps one of your legs around his waist. He asks you if you’re okay once more, and your answer is still the same, except with an added moan as Logan adjusts his position just a bit and reaches that spot he found before.

You aren’t sure exactly what you were expecting, but Logan doesn’t fuck you like he’s putting on a show. He makes his living by performing acts like this, but nothing about this is performative. This is pure, no intent to impress anyone because it’s just the two of you. What he does is for you, and he’s not overcompensating. He has nothing to prove.

The roll of his hips is simple and that’s what makes it good. The way he holds eye contact with you is expected and that’s what has you reeling for more. He’s so good because he’s not overdoing it, because he knows what he's doing. He’s so good because he’s so secure, unlike many people that you’ve slept with.

You’re comfortable with him, and that’s why you scrape your nails up Logan’s back and hitch onto his hair to keep his eyes on you when they stray for a moment.

“Logan,” you practically sing. He continues marching towards your mutually shared goal.

You try again. “Lo, lemme on top. Please, I wanna ride you.”

This gets him to stop. “Shit—fuck, yeah. Go on.”

He easily rolls onto his back and helps get you settled on top. It rightfully feels different to sink onto Logan than to have him sink into you.

You somehow feel fuller, again like you’re suffocating. You don’t even realize you’re not breathing until Logan points it out.

“Breathe,” he says, the deep timber of his voice teetering towards meditative.

It’s easy for you to do as he says. You let out the breath you were holding as you sank completely down onto Logan, sheathing him into your walls.

“You feeling okay?”

You nod, licking your lips as you test out moving for the first time. Unsurprisingly, it’s heavenly. “‘m alright.”

Logan nods and then he sits back. He doesn’t take control of the situation anymore. He’s handed it all off to you.

And while you think he didn’t feel the need to prove himself, you certainly do. It crawls up your spine and settles into your head, leaking back down to put pressure onto your chest until you feel like you’re being crushed by the desire to prove what you can do to Logan. To impress him at least a little bit.

Briefly, you hope he’ll be able to read your mind and see what you’re going through. Logan usually has the words needed to calm you down, and you think he’ll have them right now, too. Which, you’re sure he does, but how can he give them to you if he doesn’t know what you’re going through?

You could tell him, but instead you adjust your position, plant your hands on Logan’s chest, and do what you know how to do.

It’s intimidating to stare right into Logan’s clear green eyes so you let yours fall shut instead.

Looking at nothing but near-complete darkness, you find it much easier to focus. You easily latch onto a rhythm and the effects on Logan are audible. He makes sure they’re audible, letting groans and moans slip out.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” His fingers press into your hips. It happens quick, the way his feet plant into the mattress. You’re forced to lurch forward, eyes falling open as both hands reach for Logan’s chest.

The shocked sound that automatically slips out is blended with a moan when your clit brushes Logan’s pubes. It takes a second to gather your bearings once more, and Logan watches you the entire time, but you find that same rhythm from before and when it’s applied like this, you can feel so much more of him.

It’s more strain on you, the stretch in your hips and lower back burns insistently and you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to keep this up, but the combination of being in control and feeling practically everything encourages you to finish the job just like this.

One arm stretches up and grips the pillow behind Logan between your hand, the other hand slips between Logan’s head and the mattress. You pinch the grown out strands between your fingers until only the bleached ends stick out from between each digit.

Logan leans into your palm, tilting his head back and screwing his eyes shut as he surrenders completely to you.

There we go, you think to yourself, tiredly grinning and attempting to put more into the way you ride him.

It works as Logan’s blunt nails pinch the skin of your hips. The veins in his neck protrude as his mouth falls open. He doesn’t have to say anything, you know what’s coming. It shouldn’t be a surprise when you feel Logan twitch inside of you, quickly followed by warmth cutting off right before it can spurt up into you. He groans, the sound slightly pained, and his eyes screw shut. You think you can feel something nipping your skin where Logan holds you, but it goes away quickly and you’re more focused on other things.

You’re close from this only, with just a few more seconds you could come, too. And then Logan lifts you off of his lap like you weigh nothing, just to set you down onto the bed and kneel between forcibly spread legs.

You barely have time to think before Logan has his head between your thighs, his tongue flicking over your clit until your back crescents and your moans crescendo.

Logan doesn’t stop for a moment. For a torturous moment that seems to drag out, Logan continues and you think you’ll be there all night, driven to orgasm after orgasm until you're begging for him to stop, all while knowing that’s the last thing you wanted to happen.

But then he lifts his head and he’s grinning with your cum smeared on and around his mouth like varnish to a canvas.

“I’m impressed,” he compliments, climbing up your body until he’s lazily draped over you. “My expectations were already high but you’ve exceeded them.”

He kisses you once, and then stands to throw the condom away.

You thank him without much concentration. Laying next to him beneath the thin sheet he had thrown over you both and staring up at the ceiling, there’s only one thing weighing on your mind currently.

You let some time pass before you speak.

“Should we … should we go again?”

Logan smirks over at you. “You wanna go again?”

You nod, flicking your tongue over your lips. “Yeah. Just to make sure I got the character down. I don’t wanna, like, break character because I feel too good or something.”

You’re bullshitting and you know he knows, yet Logan is nodding throughout, resting his hands behind his head. “Yeah, alright.”

He throws the thin sheet off of his waist. “Then get over here. Show me what you got.”

#logan howlett x reader #logansworld!#logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #icarus writes mcu

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nemesyaaa · 7 months ago

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OHHH PLEASE THE WAY I LOVE SHORT AND LONG FICS. WKZKDKEKE BUT OMGG I REALLY DONT SEE THE TIME PASS. I'M JUST SO INTO THE STORY, AND IT'S LIKE SLOW BURN. A BIT ANGSTY AT FIRST, BUT THAT'S SOOOO GOOD TO READ ?? A REAL PLEASURE

The loneliness is uncomfortable amidst your inability to sleep. It hovers over your bed, staring down at your shuffling frame as you try multiple positions, each one leaving you as restless as the last. You know that’s why you venture off to the kitchen, the search for companionship outweighing the desire for a treat. You just need to talk to someone, remind yourself that you aren’t all alone. There are other people like you, and you live with them. You’re safe. LIKE OMGWKZKSZ WHY THIS IS SO DEEP, BUT THAT'S IT. I RELATE THIS PARAGRAPH ?????

And now that it has happened, you don’t know what to do. There’s not much for you to discuss with Logan, the two of you don’t have all that much in common. He’s far older than you, for starters, at least a decade and a half on you from what you’ve gathered. He’s been gone for a while, but you think the others have caught him up on everything that he’s missed already. THE AGE GAP WITH LOGAN 🤤🤤🤤🤭 THIS IS JUST TOO HOT. THE SIZE DIFFERENCE TOO. I NEED HIM

Kid. You know you’re younger than him, it’s obvious, but you’re not a kid. You don’t see why he thinks of you that way. Rogue and Bobby are kids and you’re older than them. More mature, no longer a student but now practically a teacher. SHHHSSS WE'RE KIDDO HERE. WE'RE LOGAN LITTLE'S GIRL. WE'RE DEEP INTO DADDY ISSUES. WE'RE LOOKING FOR THIS DADDY

Logan gets rougher. He’s grinding up into you like his life depends on it, blunt nails delving into your skin as if he wants to break it. You wish he would. You aren’t regenerative like he is, but you still desire the broken skin, the beads of blood, the marks left behind. IM SCREAMING WZODZE WTFFF 😵😵😵😵FINALLY !!

Just as you didn’t warn him before, he doesn’t warn you when he cums. You feel it though, the way his thrusts get sloppier and faster just before he gives you one punctual one, and then you feel the confined warmth of his cum shooting into the condom. IM ABOUT TO EXPLODE. THAT WAS INSANE, PERFECLY INSANE

go about things the wrong way

description. LOGAN HOWLETT proves himself to be a bit of a hypocrite

includes. SMUT 18+, age gap (reader is implied to be mid20s, logan assumed to be mid30s), protected piv, denial is a river in egypt logan fucks them younger, logan calls reader "kid", insomnia trope, slightly brat reader, remnants of angst, set during early x-men

wc. 5k

a/n: photo creds unknown. title from how soon is now? by the smiths

You should be in your own bedroom.

It’s a nice room, decorated better than your childhood room in your parent’s house, likely because you’ve grown since your mint green and chevron phase. It’s silent in your room, no other inhabitants except you and your pet fish that was somehow still hanging on. There’s no reason for you to leave your room, it has everything you need. But it’s not right.

You ended up finding what you desired—a non-freezer burnt ice cream bar buried beneath frozen waffles, and a warm body to stand opposite of as you steadily made your way through it.

You wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, maybe not even yourself, but you had hoped to run into Logan the entire time. Ever since his return you had been itching to get a glimpse of him, but between shadowing Storm, Scott, and Jean, and tending to whatever menial chore Professor Xavier tasked you with, you didn’t have any time for run-ins. Nothing but quick passing in the hallway where you were too shy to do much other than meet his eye for a second, wave, and then scurry along towards the end of the hallway.

But you had gotten what you wanted when you heard the soft thud of feet followed by the sound of Logan speaking.

“Is there another one of those?”

You face him with your mouth stuffed with ice cream. It takes you a second to chew enough to speak around the food without making a complete fool of yourself in front of Logan.

“This is the last one …” you swallow, ignoring the sting of the cold at the back of your throat. “Sorry.”

Logan shrugs like it’s no big deal and he steps to the fridge. You move out of the way, even though you weren’t really in the way at all, and try to be casual as you chew the remains of your bar, ignoring the sudden warmth in your body now that he’s here.

Logan doesn’t say anything. You watch the top half of his body disappear as he reaches into the fridge for something, coming out after a minute and some soft shuffling later with a beer bottle in his hand. You don’t know when it got there, and you’re amazed that it was still there and not stolen by some eager teenager. You try not to stare as he takes his first sip, but you sneak a few glances.

You finish your sandwich, throwing the wrapper out in the drawer trash can and trying your best to ignore Logan’s eyes on you the entire time. He gets halfway through his beer before he says something.

Leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle and one arm tucked across his chest, he asks, “Can’t sleep, right?”

You nod, not shocked at all that he has you pegged. It’s not unsurprising for a mutant in this place to be unable to sleep.

Logan nods as if he understands and you know he does, you remember the incident with Rogue just a year or so ago, that and the stories you hear about him wandering the halls at night. It’s why you’d always been so eager to slip down here during restless nights, constantly hoping that this would happen to you.

So you just build onto what you have.

“I just can’t fall asleep. Every time I start, I shake myself awake.”

Logan takes a swig from his beer and pulls his lips tight, a face of sympathy sliding over his features—eyebrows pinched, lips downturned, eyes a little narrowed.

“Yeah?” You nod your head. “Sounds horrible, kid.”

You don’t want Logan to see you as a kid. You know what you want him to see you as, but it seems to become more and more impossible by the day.

You don’t say anything, lifting your foot enough to press the toe of your slippers into the cleaned grout between the tiles at your feet.

“Tell you what,” he begins, promoting your head to lift, “next time that happens to you, you come find me, alright? I know how much it sucks to be alone like that so if you need me, come find me.”

That’s what you did.

After you left the kitchen, finally letting your grin break free since no one was around to see it during the trek back to your room, you told yourself you would only go to Logan if you needed him.

You tried to sleep, snuggling yourself in a cocoon of blankets and pillows around your head. You lit a candle, counted sheep, made up scenarios to doze off (ones that definitely didn’t involve Logan tenderly holding your hand and stroking your cheek and—), but nothing seemed to work.

So you found yourself standing in the doorway of Logan’s bedroom, one hand still on the doorknob and the other toying with a loose thread at the bottom of your tee shirt. The bedroom is dark, save for the moonlight peeking through his opened curtains, but from the hallway light behind your back you can see Logan’s frame under the sheets.

His back faces you until you harshly whisper his name, which at the call of he lifts his head, looking at you, and then rolls over completely to click the lamp on his nightstand on.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

You feel so meek when you explain, like you are a kid, crawling to your parents after a nightmare.

“You told me to come find you.”

His squint relaxes. His entire frame relaxes actually. He sits up, jerking his head in a beckon. You click the door shut behind you as softly as you can, approaching the bed timidly until you stand on the other side.

And then you just hover. You stand there hesitantly, staring down at the slightly unmade side of the bed. Logan doesn’t say anything for a minute, but once the silence and hesitance stretches to an uncomfortable end, he speaks up, his voice groggier and raspier than it was before.

“You gonna sleep from there? Is that some mutant power that I didn’t know about?” He says it like he’s teasing you, and when you look at him you can see the small smile on his lips. It’s similar to the one he sports when he’s messing with Scott but with more softness in his eyes.

You scoff, trying to play it cool when Logan lifts the sheets for you and you climb under them. This side of the bed is cold and unused and you wonder if you’re the first person to use it.

You get as comfortable as you possibly can. You fluff the pillow and create the perfect indent for your head, you pull the sheets up to your shoulders, you lay on your side and face the window, and then when Logan clicks the light off, you close your eyes and try to sleep.

You don’t know how you thought this would be any better than struggling to sleep in your own bed, because it’s so much worse.

In your own bed, you were left with the out-of-reach fantasies of Logan. You laid in bed, giggling to yourself as you imagined what it would be like to lay next to Logan. You filled your head with blurry images of Logan’s frame, what he would look like with his eyes closed and his face completely relaxed. You tried to imagine the heat of his body in the cold of your room, trying to change your body temperature just with a thought.

But now it’s all right beside you, left there for you to catalogue so you could never forget this moment.

The feeling of his body so close yet so far from yours. The sound of his breathing. The smell of his body wash and the way it lingered on his sheets. You’re finally in Logan’s bedroom, but you’re not getting what you want. You truly don’t think you ever will.

It’s impossible for you to sleep now. You try to keep your tossing and turning to a minimum, only moving when absolutely necessary and doing so with tentativeness. You’re trying to be meticulous with your movements, all with a goal to disturb Logan as little as possible. You’re a guest here, after all.

But even if he wasn’t an attentive mutant you knew he would’ve eventually gotten fed up.

He calls your name, soft yet sounding like a warning, and you’re quick to apologize.

He doesn’t say anything else for a second, then, “Whatever’s on your mind, squash it. Jus’ let it go.”

You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do when you say, “Easier said than done.”

Logan shifts and turns around until he’s facing you. You stay facing the window.

“What usually turns your mind off?” he asks. “A glass of warm milk?”

When you laugh it’s halfhearted and maybe this is the final indicator that something about you is off.

“Look at me.” You obey embarrassingly quickly.

You can’t really see him in the dark, but the white light from outside illuminates the slope of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. You can sort of see his eyes too, the usually light green darker because of the environment, but the shadowy fan of his eyelashes is as distinct as usual.

“Seriously, tell me what’s going on. Anything I can help you with?” He lets the question linger in the air for a second before adding on. “You need me to rough a few kids up? You being bullied?” He says it like a joke.

“No,” you say.

Logan makes an ‘ah’ sound. “Yeah I’m sure you could handle yourself.” The sheets lift again. “Come ‘ere.”

Shit, shit, shit.

You listen to him, scooting closer until you’re wrapped in Logan’s arms, enveloped in his warmth. It’s nice and comfortable, the sound of Logan’s heart right next to your ear, the security of his arms wrapped around your frame.

“Does this help you?”

You hum affirmatively, already starting to feel more comfortable than you had before. Your heart beats painfully hard in your chest and you start to get self-conscious, knowing that Logan can definitely hear it.

Right on cue, he laughs a bit against your head.

“Nervous?”

“No.” God, you’re so obvious.

Logan’s laugh grows until he’s snickering, doing a terrible job of stifling his laughter. “‘s alright,” he eventually says. “Nothing wrong with that.”

You make yourself as comfortable as possible, pressing your back to Logan’s chest, trying to ignore the hard feeling of his body behind you. You can basically feel everything, the plane of his chest pushing through his tee, the ridge of his sweatpants against your lower back, his legs against yours—tempting you to intertwine them together, his feet hanging right under yours. You’re not exactly dressed for this and your shirt has ridden up, bunched at the top of your ass and exposing your panties. You wonder if he knows. You wonder if he cares.

This is helping you a lot, but there’s still something on your mind. Something you need to solve before you can go off to sleep.

You don’t know what it is that makes you confident, that makes you want to ruin a good moment. Maybe it’s the dark providing you comfort, but you lay it all out.

“You treat me like a kid.”

Logan takes a second. You can just barely make out the hitch in his voice. “...Yeah?”

You’re glad he can’t see you when you pout. It wouldn’t have done much to help your case. “I’m not a kid, Logan. You don’t treat Rogue like a kid.”

“Rogue is different.”

“How? I’m older than her.”

“Just … can we not argue?”

“We’re not arguing.”

“Yeah? Then whaddya call this?”

“A conversation between two adults.”

He hums as if he’s unconvinced.

You won’t let it go. “How is Rogue different?”

“Go to sleep,” he admonishes.

“Can’t. Not until you answer my question.”

Logan sighs. “‘cause I’m not attracted to her, alright?”

Oh.

Wait … what?

You’re sure your silence is enough to express your confusion because Logan adds on.

“I’m trying to set boundaries between us, kid—”

“Don’t call me that.”

He corrects himself with the use of your name instead, but it comes out the same way. “We need boundaries between the two of us. You think I don’t see how you look at me? ‘s not good.”

“If you’re setting boundaries why did you invite me in here.”

“Because I wanted to help you.”

Why is he making you feel crazy? He just told you he’s attracted to you, but he wants to set boundaries? There are barely any boundaries here. You’re alone with him, in his bedroom, tucked away at the end of the hall surrounded by mostly empty bedrooms instead of bedrooms of asleep mutants, curled up against his chest. This is the most opportune time, yet he didn’t want to make a move.

Maybe you were reading too much into it.

You go to pull away from Logan’s embrace but he keeps you pulled tight to his chest.

“Don’t do that,” he says it like a command and just to piss him off you consider pulling away. But you’re really comfortable and this is a comfort you aren’t sure you’re ever going to find again.

“Just go to sleep, alright,” he says your name again, much softer this time. He says it like he’s coaxing you like your name is the final tune in a lullaby.

Maybe Logan has other powers you aren’t aware of because just that one sentence is enough for you to let it go and submit to the sudden exhaustion that settles over your body like a weighted blanket.

You don’t know if Logan’s been avoiding you. Mostly because you’ve been avoiding him.

It’s not often that the two of you would have to run into each other, but there were a few times when Professor Xavier extended the invitation to observe an upcoming class, and you declined upon learning that Logan would be subbing.

You kept your distance as much as you could, even keeping yourself locked up in your bedroom throughout the night, no matter how restless you got. You were miserable, not only because you wanted to be near Logan, but because you were fucking exhausted.

You could barely stay awake throughout the day, always sneaking off for power naps, taking whatever you could get even if it was only five minutes.

But you finally have the rest of the afternoon to yourself and you intend to use it to sleep. Uncaring of how much it threw off your sleep schedule, you just needed a solid half hour curled up at the foot of your made bed like a dog, sleeping to your heart's content.

Of course, it’s on your way up to your room that you run into Logan. You try to ignore him, continuing your path up the stairs, praying that Logan will continue on his path downstairs.

You don’t know what it is about you that says come talk to me! but Logan stops in his journey, turning to face you. He calls your name, continuing even when you don’t respond. He follows your trek up the stairs and down the hallway, always right on your heels and within arm's reach.

By the time your hand reaches for your bedroom door, Logan is practically breathing down your neck.

You know there’s no avoiding him now, but you also don’t want to.

You stand still, hand wrapped around the doorknob, waiting for Logan to say his piece.

“Why’d you lead me to your bedroom?” The way he says it, with such arrogance and assurance woven into that same joking manner as if he wasn’t the one who turned you down just a few nights ago.

“Fuck off, Logan. I just wanna get some sleep.”

You twist the knob and this is what wakes Logan up. “Okay, wait.” His hand reaches out and rests on your elbow. Just this one touch strikes you still. “Will you look at me?”

You turn around, trying to keep your gaze hard even as you take in his appearance for the first time in days.

The bags under his eyes, the relaxed smile that’s constantly on his face when he’s around you, the thickness of his eyebrows, the points in his hair. You’re staring at his hair, wondering if it’s naturally like that or if he does it himself, and when you look at his eyes again there isn’t a connection. He’s staring at your lips instead.

You lift your eyebrows impatiently, already imagining the sleep you’ll get after you ruminate until you can’t form a coherent thought.

Logan opens his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry if you got a little hurt from the other night. Is just this age gap and your little crush is not gonna wor—”

You’re already turning around, deciding whatever else he’s going to say isn’t important at all, but Logan stops you. His movements are fluid, they flow naturally from his body and straight into yours, causing you to move with a coordination you didn’t expect. He spins you back around and pulls you straight to his chest, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, while his hands rest on your hips and your cheek.

The movement is quick, it happens within a couple of seconds, and it makes the moment after feel so much longer. Nothing but shared blinks as Logan looks at your lips and you look at his. You’re so close to him, even closer than you were the other night, but neither of you makes a move.

You’re considering making the first move, opening your mouth as if to ask him a question that was still unknown to you, but then Logan’s grip on your cheek tightens as if he’s holding you still and he moves in closer, and closer, and closer until his lips ghost over yours.

In the end, it’s you who crosses the bridge.

Your lips touch, sandwiched together, but neither of you do anything. Not until you take a tiny step closer, really nothing but an adjustment of your feet, is Logan pulling you into him. He digs his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, that one hand possessing all of the aggression that doesn’t exist in the hand holding your cheek.

It’s like the touch of two different men—one who wants to devour you whole and the other who wants to treasure you. You hope that they’re able to coexist as you desperately want both.

You let Logan kiss you feverishly, an intensity unlike anything you’ve ever seen him display settling in his lips. The Logan you knew was always relaxed, walking around the mansion with a carefree, practically laissez-faire, attitude. He didn’t meddle, he kept his hands to himself, always wrapped around a cigar or a beer.

But now those hands were wrapped around you for the second time this week.

You press your hands into the shoulder of his white tee shirt, starting to slide them up towards his hair before you resist. You want to get comfortable kissing him, but you’re still out in the hallway.

Having the same thought, Logan pulls away from your lips with enough time to open the door, latch his hands onto your hips, and blindly steer you backward until you’re in the room. He stares down at you the entire time, that same smirk on his lips as he kicks the door closed behind him with a single boot.

And then he has you pressed against the wood, sandwiched between a rock and a hard place.

He looks at you for a second, his gaze lingering, and then he gets back to it.

If even possible, Logan has more passion this time around. He sinks his hands to your thighs, pulling one up by his hip. He slots his legs into the opening until your center is hovering over his thigh. You don’t know what to expect, but when he flexes the muscle and presses his limb right up against you, you’re already trying to get more.

Logan smiles as he kisses you, clearly entertained by your anguished need to get off. He doesn’t verbally reassure you, he doesn’t help you grind yourself down, he doesn’t do anything but continue kissing you.

When you need to come up for air, knocking your head back into mahogany as you intake large gulps, Logan dips his head down and explores as much skin as he can. He creates a path of kisses from your jaw, down your neck, to the exposed parts of your chest.

You tilt your head down, locking your hand into his hair and trying to redirect his lips back to yours, but he stops you with a hand pinching your cheeks.

His eyes flick back and forth between yours, nothing but mischief and arrogance in the green. You wrap a hand around his wrist with the initial want to tug him away, but you like the hold he has you in. You like the look in his eyes.

“Good?” His voice is softer than his grip.

You nod, trying to grin as best as you can when your lips are forcibly puckered.

Logan smiles right back at you. “You got a rubber?”

You nod again, scurrying to your nightstand once Logan lets you go. He tells you to get on the bed and you take the liberty of throwing your shirt off and bra as you go. You have enough sense to step out of your shoes, unclasp your jeans, and tug the zipper down in the path.

By the time you’re sitting on your bed, you can feel the anxiety thrumming through your body. It’s a good kind, the kind you’ve been seeing less and less of lately. You’re still a little tired and still desiring a solid nap, but it can definitely wait. This is your main priority.

Logan speaks to you as he undresses.

“You still doing okay?” he asks as he’s pulling his tee over his head. When you nod, he moves to his belt, thick but deft fingers undoing it and leaving it hanging open and hooked into his belt loops.

“You tell me if you wanna stop,” he says as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them right after he steps out of his boots. You give him a look and he clocks it immediately.

“You think you can take it, bub?” He laughs. “Yeah? Don’t you think you’re talkin’ a big game?”

Petulantly, you roll your eyes. “Logan, I’m not a fucking kid, I’ll be fine.”

Wrong. So, so, so stupidly wrong.

You are fine, but the sight of Logan’s dick sends nerves down your spine. You’ve talked yourself up, you can’t go back, so you do what you can. You let him peel your jeans and panties off, hoping you look as seductive as he does. You keep your eyes on his abdomen, tracing the vein that runs from the right of his navel down to his cock, breathing as well as you can while Logan lines himself up. The first push burns, just like you expect it to, but you adjust quicker than you thought. Eventually, all you can feel is pleasure. You’re so full when he’s only halfway in you. You feel stuffed as soon as he bottoms out, his heavy ball sack resting flush against you, a thick forest of pubes pressed against your cunt.

Logan is so much, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. Hovering and staring down at you as his hips rock into yours, slowly and experimentally at first. It’s not until you draw a leg up over his hips that he increases the strength of his rocks.

He has one hand keeping himself steady and the other holding your waist. It’s so intimate, and not only because he’s fucking you, but because he’s staring down at you the entire time, his teeth bared as he watches you for every single reaction. His eyes rake down your body, watching the way your tits jiggle before dipping lower to watch the way he’s entering you. You can’t see his gaze, but you can feel it, the weight of it comparable to the weight of his cock in you.

There’s an inhuman nature to it, hidden deep below the surface as if he’s trying to hold back, but it’s there. You’re made aware of it when you clench around him and he growls. It comes from the back of his throat but it’s a sound you’ve never heard before. It’s so Logan, you don’t think anyone other than him could make a sound like that as erotic as it is. You want to hear him more, you want your moans to blend together amongst the four walls of your bedroom, but he keeps his sounds to himself. It’s like there’s a disconnect between the both of you, like Logan’s still holding back even though he’s balls deep in you.

“Logan,” you whine, getting his attention. He looks at you with concern in his eyes, his hips slowing down. You shake your head, pushing more towards him. “Please,” you beg, praying he knows exactly what you want.

“What? What d’you want?”

“More.”

You’re thinking about it, eyes lidded and falling closed when Logan knocks his forehead into yours once. He moans, closed-mouthed as his head lolls to the side, a shiver shaking him from the bottom of the spine up.

“Jesus, baby,” he says. It’s all he says, but it’s more than enough. He keeps going, digging his tip into you deeper and deeper until it feels like he’s swimming in your guts.

He drags his head down until he can wrap his lips around one of your nipples, licking and sucking before moving on to give the other one the same treatment. You desperately want him to mark you up, you want a reminder that this—the thing you’ve been wanting since Storm and Scott came back with two new mutants in tow—actually happened. Bravely, you reach out and tangle your hand in his hair, surprisingly softer than you thought it would be. You don’t hold him down much, just enough to communicate what you want nonverbally. And then after a few tortuous seconds of hesitation, his lips wrap around the skin atop your left breast and he sucks. The strength in it stings, it reminds you just how strong Logan is, but it feels so good.

Unexpectedly, you feel your muscles seize. It starts in your tummy, deep down near where Logan’s been massaging, and then it just doesn’t stop, likely because he doesn’t stop.

It’s like he’s spurred on by the feeling of you cumming, motivated by the way your back arches and you reach for the heavens as you clench around his cock.

He gets a burst of energy, fucking you like he has something to prove when really it’s you with something to prove.

You’re overstimulated, struggling to keep up with Logan, but you don’t want to tap out. You talked a big game, you can’t back down now. So you remain silent while Logan pulls another orgasm out of you, hoping he won’t notice the way your eyes brew tears without your consent and the way your lips quirk with the impending request to slow down.

Of course, he notices.

He’s grinning with sympathy—you don’t know if it’s sincere or faux—when he takes a hand and strokes your cheekbone.

“I see ya, kid. Feels good, yeah?”

For some reason, when he calls you kid like this, you don’t completely hate it.

There’s no point in lying, so you nod.

“So tight,” he winces, eyebrows pinched together as he flashes his teeth, a dimple in his right cheek appearing with it.

You wish you weren’t as exhausted as you were, because the next time you’re conscious, it’s dark out and the bedsheet is covering your body. You’re hot, hotter than you usually want to be when you’re sleeping, but you’re bare naked. That and you only have a thin sheet covering your body.

It doesn’t take much investigation to figure out what’s making you so hot, not when it’s attached to your back with one meaty bicep slung around your neck and keeping you pulled against him. It takes you a bit to fall asleep, but once you do, you’re out for the rest of the night.

#logan come here #logansworld!#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #mcu #mcu fic #tw age gap

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